Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All he’d wanted to do was protect her. Yet, there he was, impaled and dead.

Even though they’d been fighting and they’d technically broken up, he had still taken to biting the bullet, quite literally, to ensure her safety. To ensure that she was able to put a stop to the riots, the brutal animalistic fights, the bloodshed that was becoming of The Lakeside Mall. He did not doubt that somehow, she would be able to accomplish the impossible. Her mind was smarter than she believed, able to delve into the most intricate of spaces to find a clue, to solve an issue like nobody else would be able to. He knew that because he could see how her mind worked.

That was pretty fucking bold considering his mind was equally as broken as hers.

Her father had pulled a gun out on her, and he had heard her scream. Her father had pulled out a gun, and his mind screamed at him that this was a life or death situation. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, his legs bolted forward, a bullet pierced his skin, splitting his skull and turning his brain into jellified mush. His mind had always been good at that, doing before he could think. That was how he got in the try outs for quarterback, after all. Because he was stupidly dumb when it came to books, but astoundingly smart when it came to the field. Over the railings he had landed as he toppled downwards, downwards, downwards, all the while staring up at the grey coloured ceiling of the failing Lakeside Mall. A singular red stream of ink trickled down from the bullet wound on his forehead, dribbling down between his hazel eyes, catching on his lip. The last thing he remembered seeing was the face of her, and the face of the killer.

Then a blunt, high-pitched pain right through his stomach as he landed on something metallic, something sharp enough to impale him.

But then he kept falling.

Falling downwards, downwards, downwards. His dead body slid down a silver pole consisting of swans and spikes. Trickling down into the water was the ink that would write the beginning words of his story, from his point of view, to allow he had a permanent voice in a world that had never been very forgiving. He kept sliding, his eyes wide open as he kept staring up at the grey coloured ceiling until he came to a halt.

Nobody cared to notice the body of the dead teenager in the centrepiece of The Lakeside Mall. All they wanted was that fucking doll. That fucking serpent-formed doll definitely aimed for kids. That doll, the reason a bullet had brought him to his demise. That doll would pay for the sin of destroying his life. Carelessly, his soul had been discarded in a black trash bag, thrown off the island and into the sea where it fell down, down, down until it hit the ocean floor.

On the ocean floor, he blinked, and when he blinked, he woke up.

Keeling over, Maxwell Andrew Jagerman spluttered, gripping his neck as he coughed up blood. Wherever he landed seemed to enjoy that, seemed to appreciate it, for the tide pushed away from him creating a dry spot. Hell? Was this Hell? That was all he could do to ask himself. Was this Hell? There was no fire and it was very dark. That was all he could really gather, that it was dark. It was dark, and there was the familiar metallic taste of blood on his tongue, the familiar coppery scent in his nostrils and a slight red tinge to his vision. As quickly as he gathered information about his surroundings, he jumped up, in predator mode. His eyes, they darted around, desperately trying to find signs of life. Life. Life, but he was dead, and he knew that. Touching the spot the bullet entered, he found no hole. Touching the spot his body had been impaled on, he found no blood. He found no marks.

So if he had died, and this wasn’t Hell, then where the fuck was he?

“The Black and White,” a voice said in a gritty tone, speaking from somewhere just behind Max. He turned around in a clockwise motion as the boxed off room he stood in turned in the opposite direction. He spun twice, as did the room, until all of a sudden, he was confronted with something rather bizarre. In a room made of nothing aside from blackness, a neon-pink clad figure sat at a table underneath a stagnant yellow lightbulb. “Why? Never heard of it? Ah, I don’t know why you would. You’re normal.” The thing laughed as the Venus Flytrap that was placed on the table opened it’s pod, slamming shut on something invisible. “Well, Maxwell! I have been expecting you for several days now, not that you’d know that. You just died. Congratulations! Welcome to your home! We’ve been awaiting the arrival of a real dead nighthawk.”

“I am not a dead nighthawk, bitch!”

The thing stood, and Max took the moment to take a look at it. It was wearing white tights with neon pink leg warmers while also wearing light pink platform sneakers. “Oh, I chose well!” In it’s hand, it gripped a white cane that waded through whatever liquid substance made up the floor he stood on. “Oh yes, my brothers will most certainly be pleased with me!”

Max jumped back, his fists clenching, closing as he got himself into his fighting stance. “Who are you?!”

“Well if you’re The Holy Spirit, then I suppose you can call me the father-“

“Who are you, bitch!?”

It smirked, the corners of it’s purple coloured lips curling upwards. “Ah. Yes. I should’ve seen this coming, but prophetic vision never was my forte.” It held out a hand to him. “Around these parts, I am known by many things. Noxx, The One Who Feasts In The Dark…Nibblenephim…but you, dearest Maxwell, you may call me Nibbly.”

“Dumb fucking name, and I’m not taking your hand.”

Nibbly pursed it’s lips together, pouting. “Oh well.” It let his hand drop. “I know how I look. Feminine. So, Maxwell, before we get things straight, let’s just lay down the basics. I, Nibblenephim, she/he/it. You, Maxwell Jagerman, are?”

Max’s shoulders untensed. “…he/him. And it’s Max, not Maxwell.”

“Fantastic!” Nibbly turned, walking back to the seat he had been at originally.

Max took a note that Nibbly had long pink hair tied up in pigtails, wore a pink pinafore dress and seemed to be able to walk without stumbling. If he was blind, he would never attempt to walk in heels, so whoever Nibbly was had more confidence than he ever would.

Nibbly sat down, letting the white cane fall to the floor as he opened a drawer in the table. “So, Max. Welcome to The Black and White. We have been awaiting your stay for a long time. Though it must seem like such a short period since your heart stopped beating, I may reassure you that time works differently here and we’ve been waiting eternities for you to arrive. So long so that this little guy opened his pod and bloomed.” He tickled the pod of the flytrap as if it were a kitten. “I think I’m gonna call this one Stephie Two, what do you think?”

“…I don’t think I get a say-“

“Everyone gets a say in The Black! We’re democratic! So what do you think?” Nibbly did not wait for Max to attempt to answer. “Here’s what I think. I think there is something both you and I can benefit from each other.” Pulling on pink rubber gloves, he presented a dead checkered-tailed nighthawk, it’s head bashed in and broken.

Max recoiled, hugging himself. “What the fuck!?”

“Say hi to Ezekiel! He’s the leader of the nighthawks, and he died! It’s a shame, really. Flew into a window and his brain was too little to handle such a jolt…but he’s not the only dead nighthawk I have with me in my capacity.” Nibbly let the nighthawk, Ezekiel, hang over the opening pod of the Venus Flytrap. “The checkered-tail nighthawks are an endangered species that can only be found on the island of Hatchetfield, Michigan, and killing one of them is a criminal offence! And you, Max Jagerman, are set to become Hatchetfield’s finest Nighthawk player in a long while!”

That caught his attention. “…are you sure you’re talkin’ about the right person?”

Nibbly nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, most definitely! Ever since Matt Wickham, though I don’t think you’d know who he is. Oh well. A shame. He truly had…a specific taste for that of the human nature.” He hummed, letting the nighthawk drop into the plant, which quickly began devouring the bird. “But I can still benefit from a dead nighthawk like you. Tell me, Max. What’s the one thing you desire most? The one thing that you crave, the only thing that can quench your thirst or fix that deep rumble of hunger in the pit of your gut?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Because I already know what you want! I just wanna hear you say it!”

“Do I get a choice?”

“Not in The Black you don’t!”

“That seems unfair.”

“And you’re talking to someone who looks like this.” Nibblenephim brushed neon pink hair out of his eyes…well, out of his face, to reveal gouged out eyes, blood still trickling from the dead, empty sockets. “Yet I can see you perfectly well because your scent, your passionate vanilla cologne allows me to recognise you. I may be blind, but I still see all. So tell me Max Jagerman, standing in at 6’3 with dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, pale skin and fucked up knuckles from all the fights you’ve been in, tell me what it is you’re craving, and let’s see if we can make this work.”

Max still felt as if he were dreaming. Like he hadn’t died, or that this was his way for him to cope with the fact his body was rotting on a spike for all the sick exhibitionists that Hatchetfield convinced to live there. He did not believe he was staring into the face of a bleeding, eyeless human-appearing being who was suddenly able to tell him his exact appearance without actually being able to see who he was at all. Max figured that him admitting his deepest desires was harmless. None of this was real. What harm would a miniscule confession do?

“…I want control.”

“Interesting. Proceed?”

“I…I come from a fucked up background. Dad’s an alcoholic. Mom, despite saying I was the pride and joy of her life, got up and ran off with her boy toy. Dad, he tells me I’m never going to be good enough, that I’ll never amount to anything. He’s right, I just don’t want to admit it…I peaked in high school. I’ll never get into a college, not with my grades. I-I take out my anger on those below me to make myself feel better…because if I control them, then I control me. Because I want to be the God of Hatchetfield High. I-I require their worship. To them, I am a bully, and bullies carry that awful reputation with them everywhere but I am so much more than that…and I need it. I need them to bow down to me. I need them to get me where I want to go in life because I know I’ll never be able to do it myself…”

“Except of course you can, Max.”

A breeze tickled the hairs on the back of his neck when all of a sudden, Max found Nibblenephim’s arms wrapped around him. A contract was thrust into his left hand, a fountain pen in his right. “I’ll mentor you. I’ll teach you what it’s like to be a god, for one thing in return?”

“…and what would that one thing be?”

“I’m starvin’, Maxie. I’m so, so hungry…and I need you to bring me a new supply of food.”

“Right. What do you eat then?”

He giggled. “All you need to know is that, sign the contract, and whoever disobeys you, you bring to me, okay?”

“And how will I know what to do?”

Nibblenephim’s fingers pressed into Max’s temples, gripping his head tightly, almost crushing him. “Because I’ll be right in here.”

How tall was Nibbly, Max found himself asking because moments before, he could’ve sworn the thing wasn’t 6’3 at all. But, Max looked down. He read the contract and it intrigued him more and more. Of course, it did seem too good to be true, but he was dead, so he’d take whatever he could get. Clumsily, that fountain pen dipped into red ink and on tainted parchment paper, Max Jagerman signed his name.

The bullet may have brought him to his demise but it brought him to his knees at the sight of God, and fuck yeah, he was ready to embrace this change.

In a whipping motion, Max Jagerman landed back on solid ground. On grass, under leafy trees, the sun beating down on him. He smiled, checking himself out. The Lords’ tree was right behind him, so he’d know where to go whenever he needed to be summoned for it’d be his permanent resting place. That was home to him now. He was dressed in a blue shirt which had been turned into a crop top and black shorts with his usual beat down sneakers. He appreciated the cropped shirt; it showed off his abs. Now 17, Max Jagerman flicked his wrist, the handle of his new favourite weapon materialising instantly and again, his eyes lit up for he had one thought and one thought only.

Summer 2020. This camp season, truly, would be one to die for.

Chapter Text

Time was precious, so they had been able to learn, and therefore, there was not a second left for them to be able to waste. There really wasn’t. Everything they could possibly have solidified itself in a split second, as soon as they crashed through the barrier of a new reality, falling downwards until, together, they both hit the solid ground. Until the plush feel of freshly grown grass was beneath their hands. Until whatever scars that they could’ve potentially healed were fixed. Until they were together. Until they were fine.

Fine they were indeed. When they had toppled to the ground, they had landed beside each other in the year 2018. It had been 2019 when they had fallen, but once more, they were in 2018. She had looked over at Peter, struck by the effects of Wiggog Y’Wrath, and he had looked to her. Scared. They were scared, both as much as each other. Scared because once again, all progress they had made in the second timeline was eradicated, leaving them as blank slates of themselves. Who were they in this universe? Who lived? Who died? Who merely suffered to exist? Everything they had once had was now gone. Their memories, however, remained.

Before long, they were back to who they had always been. Back to brushing past each other in the hallways without the intentions of bullying. Back to chasing after each other to either walk home, catch the bus together or, when Steph finally got her license (again), to ask him if he’d like a ride. It was back to Stephanie Lauter ignoring the social hierarchy that Max Jagerman was so desperately trying to bestow upon Hatchetfield High for the sake of him trying to feel like he had control over an island he’d never own. It was her sitting down at a table at lunchtime with a few additional people. No longer was it just her and Pete. Now, it was a strange band of four, with the occasional fifth member.

With this new dimension, it seemed that a couple Hatchetfield citizens now interacted more with Pete than they had in the other two. They were not unfamiliar to Steph for they had been there, but until that point, they’d been in the background. Not anymore. Now, they were the lead characters, and, with the cursed knowledge about what happened in her life, and what had been happening in her life, all she could do was worry.

So three new friends, three new people to try to save the lives. The most tame of the three was Richard Lipschitz, the anime obsessed nephew of Paul Matthews. That had already given him a bad reputation when he had originally joined the school for, more than recently, some rumours had come out stating that Paul believed he was a cat. Where that rumour came from remained a mystery. Nobody was able to figure it out, so they turned their frustrations to attack Richie. He seemed used to it, though. Seemed to suck it up and take it. Underneath his anime hyperfixation, his bright blue socks and his array of Hawaiian shirts was a genuinely kind boy who took the time to listen. Even if he couldn’t provide advice, he very much was able to accept others’ issues without a given reason to.

Then there was Ruth Fleming, potentially the second horniest person on the island. She was bisexual and proud and said all kinds of terms neither Pete or Steph understood the meanings of. As they pushed through the hell that was high school, some of these terms became familiarised as both Miss Lauter and Mister Spankoffski began to explore who they were. As it turned out, most of Ruth’s phrases she had very publicly spoken about were, in fact, either porn categories or kink terminology. At least with Ruth, they could determine she was an outsider due to her hormonal nature. But, underneath her puberty fuelled thoughts, Ruth Fleming was also a very kind person. She was generous, emotional, and was always putting others before herself. The exception to that was when the telemarketers called. Then it was between her, “her boyfriend” and the world.

The third new person who Steph and Pete had the joys of interacting with in this lifetime was none other than the reincarnation of Jesus Christ herself. Grace Mary Chasity. She wasn’t necessarily an outcast, at least not to herself. Everyone else knew she was due to her extreme hyperfixation on The Bible. Everyone knew that The Chasitys were religious, tales about Mark and Karen’s high school endeavours continued to be spread around school to the present day. However, the difference between Mark, Karen and Grace was Grace was the only Chasity member diagnosed with autism. There had been many a time where Grace would tag along with the group and physically hyperventilate over finding a new Jesus portrait in a thrift store. That was the only reason she managed to fit in with the outcasted friend group Steph Lauter accidentally found herself tangled with, because Grace was autistic, and that gave her an automatic acceptance letter to becoming a nerd.

Of course, the nerdiest of the group had to go to the most pathetic person Hatchetfield had ever seen (though Steph would argue otherwise.) Peter Murphy Spankoffski was the least interesting, most pathetic thing to ever happen to the universe. Being transgender and being autistic were two nails in the coffin, the third was having the surname Spankoffski. He was convinced that the bus driver deliberately drove off, leaving him behind more frequently than in other universes which made him all the more thankful for Steph. He was convinced that whatever negativity could sway his mood would, in fact, occur beyond comprehension. In fact, in this dimension he had landed in, he had renamed himself Peter Murphy Spankoffski because of Murphy’s law. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong. That, and the fact Murphy fit him better than the middle name he’d been going by in the other two dimensions. That one had been pathetic, which was equally as fitting considering the fact that he was a pathetic excuse of a human being. Pathetic, lame, etc. They were all words frequently used to describe Peter Spankoffski.

Only one person was firmly against viewing him that way, and that person would be, by far, the complete opposite of the other four people in her friendship group. The difference between her compared to Ruth, Richie, Grace and Pete was she was so effortlessly cool…or maybe it was the nepotistic influence she had had over the entire school.

Stephanie Allison Lauter was one hell of a human being. She had an issue with authority, and she made that clear wherever she went. Just because she was the mayor’s daughter didn’t mean she liked it. Outside of Hatchetfield, being mayor meant nothing, so therefore, why should it mean something there? Being Solomon’s only child had given her so many benefits in life it was genuinely ridiculous. Respect from teachers, respect from peers which had meant she was consistently perceived a certain way pissed her off. Hatchetfield thought she was a rebellious yet quiet teenager, still deeply traumatised from her mother’s ‘disappearance’ back in 2015. Her peers thought that she was the typical trendy teenager with an outlandish hidden personality. Only one person got to see her for who she really was.

Broken. She was broken. She was a girl who had made a foolish decision with the hopes of saving everyone else. With it came waves of tidal migraines that more often than not left her bedridden. Not even darkness could save her. Darkness fed into her fears, bought her back to the very moment she had been confronted by them. By Pokotho, by Bliklotep, by Nibblenephim. Brought her back to the exact moment she had grasped an axe given to her by her mentor and through vivid memories, she was able to recall the exact moment the blade had struck her father. His body had become nothing but bloody bits. His blazer had been nothing but sodden with his blood. Proudly, she had worn that blazer, and proudly, she had reemerged on to the streets of Hatchetfield as their leader. That was, until, she had been tackled. Downwards she had fallen. Downwards, through The Black and White as she had tried to fight Peter. Back then, she had believed she was right, that there was no reason to be saved. She was broken then, she still was. To be so contained in the box that was nothing but her terrible, terrible thoughts was something so easy nowadays. She was so much better in this new dimension, so much healthier, but even she knew she was still falling. Still going down, down, down…

…except now she was going down in different ways.

The bed creaked furiously in an otherwise empty home. A frantic hand clung on to a black, gothic headboard so tightly that knuckles turned white. The other held the essence of dominance close to the body it belonged to. This had once been so shameful, feeling like this was forbidden, but those feelings did not stick, and now, feelings were unable to be hidden. As said, only one person got to see Steph Lauter for who she truly was, got to see every time she continued heading downwards into her own mind. Going down in her mind…or going down on him.

Everything had been timed down to the very second. The way Stephanie Lauter had made sure that, on that particular day, both her father and Miss Tessburger had a scheduled appointment with some business league or something. The way, the night before, she’d taken him to Pasquale’s. The way she had woken up in an empty house on an empty street with the ambience of cars passing, birds chirping and the occasional drift of music filling the room. How that changed when he had woken up, how his voice had been nothing but a melody to her, gently nudging her in the right directions. How she had shot him that look that challenged every ounce of confidence within him. She watched as he had shuddered, watched as he accepted their newfound roles.

She was the conductor, after all. He was merely the musician.

Their pyjamas had long been discarded, neither of them caring to find them. Sheets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed. Anything daring to separate them from one another would die for the fact after everything they had been through, they would not allow anything to part them again. Ever. Not even their clothes. It wasn’t their first time. Their first time had been gentle and awkward while they figured everything out. It had been awkward and they had laughed but it had still been everything they needed it to be. It took a long time to figure out what was needed, as a matter of fact, but proudly, they could say they’d gotten the hang of it now. After all, they got lots of practise in. Peter was still a Spankoffski, keep in mind.

That didn’t mean he was the one to dominate.

There had always been something so satisfying about watching him come undone, and that applied here too. She’d been attracted to him before, but ever since he’d got on testosterone, and ever since he’d undergone top surgery, he had become her ideal man. He’d had a growth spurt since starting HRT. He’d been her height when he was on it and somehow, somehow he had ended up at 6’1. He was still the lanky, high-metabolism owning boyfriend of hers that he’d been before, but the exception was he was much taller. His hair was longer too, now resting a little above his shoulders. Dark, thick and wavy, easy to mess with. Another major change that they’d both noticed was how Pete Spankoffski was finally able to grow facial hair. He had a 5 o’clock shadow as of right then, and fucking hell, Steph was so into it. So into it, so into the person her boyfriend had become, as proven by several hickeys strategically placed on his neck and along his scars. She loved him. She hoped he knew that without her having to tell him.

From his position on the bed, Peter looked up at his girlfriend, gulping down a breath. “You’re a masterpiece, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” With the hand that wasn’t gripping on his knee, she readjusted his glasses. “There ya go. Now you can see.”

“I could see anyway…fucking Christ.” Pete moved slightly, catching a glimpse of himself in Steph’s mirror at the foot of the bed. His eyes widened as he slapped a hand to his neck, looking back to her with those wide brown eyes of his. “Steph, we leave for fucking Abstinence Camp in about an hour. What the fuck have you done to me?”

“Woke you up.” She propped herself up on her elbow, leaning on top of him so he’d lie back down. “Why, buttercup? Scared we’ll go to Hell? If I remember correctly, we’ve already been.”

He exhaled shakily, looking up at her. “We sure have…”

She gave him her signature smirk. The one with the fire, the one with the kindness and more importantly, the one that was injected with passion and fucking hell, he may as well have drowned in her. Stephanie Lauter was attractive, that was not something up for debate. She was incredibly attractive but most importantly, she was his. How that had happened was something he was not able to accept. He was, as Richie often said, what would come up when someone would google “white boy.” Steph? Steph may as well have been born a fucking goddess.

There she was, leaning on top of him, propped on her right elbow to keep him down with her thighs firmly attached to his hips. Her black, curly hair had been pulled back with a scrunchie, but loose strands had managed to shape her face. Her eyes were slightly sly, naturally sharp, and lust remained in her eyes. Nowadays, though, it never really faded. She remained smirking at him as he moved his hand, gently grasping her waist. Sweat dripped down her brown skin, specifically down her shoulders. Pete gently wiped it from her as her free hand rested on his chest. She was definitely Solomon Lauter’s daughter, that was not something to be questioned either. She had that power in her, to get what she wanted, and what she wanted was his knees weak.

“I love seeing you shirtless. I mean, sex is so much flattering now that I get to see you as, y’know, you. Not that I minded it before. Glad I got you confident enough to get you outta your goddamn clothes.”

He blushed then. “Steph. We both know that’s not the reason I’m naked. You had me fucking soaked.”

“Yeah? You’re not the only one.” She gently kissed him. “Morning, handsome.”

“It’s a good morning if I wake up like this.” His other arm wrapped her shoulders, holding her close. “Morning, Willow.”

“Wanna shower?”

“Probably. Ted’s gonna pick us up and he’s just gonna know.”

“I mean, one, it’s Ted, two, the hickeys?” She sat back, straddling him once more. “I did a pretty good job.”

“Yeah, you’d say that.” He playfully pushed her off of him. “I’ll go shower. Thanks for getting me outta my clothes. Saved me a job.”

“No problem, babe. Just means I get to see you shirtless more.”

“You’ve got a real thing for seeing me without my shirt.” He said, grabbing his clothes from the bag he had packed.

“I mean, look at you!”

“I’m nothing special!”

“Oh, Pete, you are so special.”

“You’re special.”

“I am plus sized, Peter. I am curvy. That does not make me special.”

“As your boyfriend, I’m debating it.”

“As your girlfriend, I’m overruling everything you’re saying. Now go shower. Grace Chasity’s gonna be on you like the sex police.”

“Oh, God.” He looked at her, shot her another smile before closing the door to her en-suite.

Once showered, he returned to see her now dressed and her bedsheets changed. He noticed she was dressed in a blue tank top and a black skirt paired with walking boots. He was dressed in shorts and socks, the shirt missing, which was a deliberate choice. He jumped back on to her bed, and not to his surprise, she joined him.

“Oh yeah. I did a real good job of those bruises.” She ran her hand along the line of hickeys she’d placed along his top surgery scars. “You’re so handsome.”

“I mean, you thought I was handsome when I had tits.”

“Because you were. And you’re handsome now.”

“…’cept this time I can back that up, because I feel handsome without them.”

“And the benefit to top surgery is I get to see you shirtless more, so.” She quickly sprayed herself with perfume. “Ted’s outside.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“We’re due to leave!”

“Steph. I can’t walk straight.”

“Wow. You problem, honestly.”

“You rocked my fucking shit!”

“You almost broke my bed!”

“Steph, your bed is made of metal!”

“And?” She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Want to fucking test me? On the morning of Abstinence Camp?”

“You’ve already fucked me to hell and back once, I need at least three hours.”

“We’ll be at camp by then.” She kissed him quickly. “Now come on. Get your shirt on, we really should go.”

He whined. “I don’t wanna go to this stupid camp. I hate my fucking parents.”

“Yeah, I hate my dad as well. But, hey! We’ll be together! And hey…we can make this summer fun, because we’ll have each other, right?”

“We’ll have each other…”

“Right.” She tossed him his shirt. “I’ll meet you downstairs! I’ll grab you a chocolate milkshake!”

“Thank you, babe!” He called to her as she headed to prepare for the day. He pulled on the shirt While he had the chance, he grabbed his phone, loading on to the group chat.

Pete: Guess who’s about to depart for Abstinence Camp <3333

Ruth: WHAT THE HOLY FUCK

Richie: that was.

Richie: ruth that was a stupid message.

Ruth: ur actually doing that?

Pete: Yeah, Steph’s coming w/ me. I told you.

Pete: stupid parents.

Richie: fuck ur parents.

Pete: Fuck ‘em straight to hell!

Pete: anyway I rlly gotta go but guess what happened.

Pete: guys. Guess.

Ruth: I’m depressed what do u want

Pete: okay. I’ll leave you with this one message and then I’ll reply in like, twenty minutes.

Richie: farewell, soldier.

Peter smiled, snapped a photo of the state of his neck, sent it to the group chat and finished getting ready. Once finished, he headed downstairs where Steph was quick to reattach herself to him. “Come on. Might as well get the painful part over and done with.”

“Alright…” She sighed, kissing him properly. “Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna be just fine.”

“I know.”

“And I’m sneaking chocolate in my bra.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

As their conversation faded, they both headed to the baby blue Studebaker that sat in Steph Lauter’s driveway, and by the look on the older Spankoffski’s face, they both knew what they were in for for the duration of the drive.

The sex talk.

Chapter Text

That was how they found themselves in the back of Theodore Spankoffski’s baby blue Studebaker, both incredibly awkward. No matter how hard the both of them tried to get themselves clean in the shower, the smell of sex never got past Ted. As proven, with the widest smirk on his face, Ted glanced back at his little brother, the look of the devil in his eye.

“So, Petey. Had a fun night?”

“I fucking hate you.” Pete said at once.

“Aww come on! Don’t be like that! Can’t I just be proud of you for finally getting la-“

“No.”

“Look, okay, I didn’t even think you’d get any action and I’d have thought I woulda had to set you up with someone which woulda ended disastrously because it’s hard enough to find someone to stay near you for long enough to even consider you attractive. Can’t a guy just be proud his little brother’s all grown up?”

“No, because it’s awkward, and I hate you for it.”

“And not only that!” Ted said, completely ignoring Pete’s wishes. “You got laid by Stephanie Lauter?!” He laughed. “Goddamn! How the hell did that happen?”

“It’s complicated.” Steph said at once, neither of the two of them wanting to delve into their past adventures.

“I mean, it can’t be that complicated now, can it?”

“Ted,” Pete asked, a strain to his voice. “How long until we’re at camp?”

“Five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“You should probably get all that out your system before you get your ass in camp. They don’t like it when you say the lord’s name in vain. Trust me, I know.”

Steph tilted her head, trying to avoid the obvious topic of her and Pete’s sex life. “…have you been to Abstinence Camp?”

“When I was a teenager like you two, yes.” He stared at the road blankly ahead of them. “It was Hell on earth, so you two have a good time this summer!”

“Great,” she mumbled. “Gonna be stuck with Jesus freaks for the entire holidays…”

“And we’re gonna miss the goddamn honey festival.” Pete looked at Ted. “Do I have to go? It’s not too late to turn back.”

“I think you’ll find that it is, in fact, too late to turn back.”

Pete kicked the back of his chair. “Just because your life is fucking miserable doesn’t mean mine has to be.”

“Oh no, Petey. You gotta do the time too. Besides, would you rather be stuck at home with me all summer or at camp where you’ll be doing something useful, like walking.”

“I’d rather be stuck with you.”

“…that’s lowkey sweet.”

“Shut up. It’s the better of the two already horrible options.” Pete pushed his glasses back up. “We’re gonna have to wear the dorky fucking T-Shirts, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, we had to when we were in camp and boy howdy were they a sight.”

“Yeah, well I’m gonna pray to God for the first time in my life that we don’t have to wear cringey matching t-shirts.” Peter said, trying his hardest to relax back into his seat.

Being a Spankoffski, nothing could go his way, for there he was, walking into camp with Stephanie Lauter, the two of them donning the most horrific t-shirts. In obnoxious shades of pink or blue, they had Virginity Rocks! scrawled across their chest in an equally awful font. The shirts were eyesores, and both Pete and Steph remained in agreement about that at least. So, it was a camp in the middle of the woods in the open sun surrounded by trees filled with young adults like them in the same terrible shirts. Great.

They came to a stop by where the firepit was, Steph taking the courtesy to sit down on one of the logs as she looked around. “So. This is Abstinence Camp then, right?”

“I guess so…it’s terrible.” Pete said, rubbing the back of his neck. “At least they’re not transphobic, though. I had to explain my testosterone and the councillor gave me a five-minute lecture on inclusivity within Abstinence Camp so…that won’t be hell.”

Almost immediately, from behind them, the spawn from the seventh layer appeared behind the two of them. “Do not speak that word within the sacred grounds of camp!” Both jumping, Steph and Pete turned around to look up at the beaming face of Grace Chasity. Unfazed by their surprised reactions, she put her hands on her knees, bending down to speak to Steph as if she were a child. “You know, I’m super glad you’re getting help. Considering the whole pregnancy thing,” Grace told her, whispering the word ‘pregnancy.’

“Ah. The pregnancy thing.” Steph rolled her eyes. “Grace, I can reassure you that I’m not pregnant.”

Pete choked on a laugh. “Yeah. I can also confirm she isn’t pregnant either.”

“But you kept on getting sick? If you are sexually active and getting sick so often, if you are not pregnant, then what are you?” Grace asked, folding her arms.

“Prone to migraines, now are we done here?” Steph asked. “Because I’m feeling miserable.”

“Yes.” She grinned again. “I have someone to talk to anyway! See you around, I’m super glad you’re here!” With that, she skipped off in the direction of the treeline as Pete sighed, sitting on the log next to Steph.

“We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here alive by the end of the summer, Steph…”

“We sure as shit will…” Pete looked at her. “How’s your head?”

She scrunched her nose up like she always did. “It’s…it’s fine. They let me keep my headache tablets because I had a note from my dad, so I hope they’ll be enough to get me through…I hope Wiggly doesn’t try any shit with me.”

He nodded. “I hope so too…” He looked down at her. “I really hope nothing drastic happens to either of us here. I really hope.”

“Mhmm…” Steph looked over to where Grace had skipped off to, tilting her head once more. “Who the hell is she talking to?”

“Hmm?” Pete asked, looking in the same direction as Steph. There, in a silhouette, was Grace Chasity and a much taller figure with curly hair who, if Pete was not mistaken, seemed to be wielding an axe. His heart dropped. “…I do not like that.”

“What the fuck is she doing anyway?” Steph asked. “I didn’t know she had friends.”

“Well, she has us. And Richie. And Ruth…lucky bastards, not getting to come here. At least their parents love them.”

“And Grace’s parents love her…what kind of life must she live?” The two of them shuddered as Steph raised a very valid point. “And are we even her friends?”

Pete had no time to answer, for one of the camp counsellors appeared on the amphitheatre stage with an unnatural grin on her face. “Oh God,” Pete said. “We’re going to Hell.”

Steph unfortunately nodded as the counsellor spoke. “Alright campers! Gather round, gather round! Chit chatting can wait!” She waited until everyone, mainly Grace, had a seat, before she spoke again. “Alright! I want you all to give a big, healthy, Idontwannabang welcome to your camp directors and youth ministers Jerry and Jeri!” As she exited the stage, two cheery try-hards entered it.

One of them was over six foot tall with short brunette hair and piercing blue eyes which matched the colour of his shirt. The second was around Steph’s height, had ginger hair and wore a bright grin on her face. That seemed to be a running theme with the people attending this camp. They were all way too happy to be here…maybe it was the fact that Pete hadn’t been to church in a while but fuck, what was wrong with these people? He had no idea, but things were only slightly confirmed as the directors began to speak.

“Alright! Amen, everybody! A-to-the men!” The taller one said, quickly followed by his pink-dressed companion.

“And women! And the non-binary people, and everyone else in between!” She said enthusiastically as the taller one clapped his hand on her shoulder.

“You said it best, because here at Camp Idontwannabang, gender does not define the person you are, and we respect each and every identity as if it were our own!” He beamed out to his audience. “My name is Jerry with a double r-y, and this is Jeri, with a single r-I, but don’t worry if it’s too complicated for ya. You can just call me Boy Jerry!”

“And I’m Girl Jeri! And if we get any of your names wrong, please let us know! Here at Abstinence Camp, your preferred names are our priority! Because how are we gonna pack your summer with play, purpose and prayer if we can’t even identify you correctly?!”

“You said it best, Girl Jeri! Because who needs sex this summer to have fun?! Not us! We’re both voluntarily celibate!”

“We’d take canoes over condoms any day of the week!”

Jerry nodded, gesturing to the audience. “Now, you’ll notice that some of our counsellors are coming round with pamphlets regarding the dangers of contraception and-“

At that point, Steph had had enough. She elbowed Pete gently, leaning into him. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she smirked. “So. How many times can we have sex here without getting caught?”

He looked down to her, his eyes widening. “Steph. This is Abstinence Camp!”

“And?” She shrugged. “I already know that. Now how many times do you think we can fuck without getting caught?” With a blush reforming on Pete’s face, she folded her arms, sitting back upright. “I’ll meet you in the showers.”

Pete’s mind still lingered on the potentially axe-wielding shadow he’d seen Grace speaking to, figuring that if the Axe Man was real, he was already waiting for them. Then again, this was Hatchetfield, and he had heard that The Witchwoods were notorious for hallucinations. Biting the inside of his cheek as he took a pamphlet, the thought secured itself in his mind. The showers. He’d meet Steph in the showers, and they definitely were not gonna die because the Axe Man was not real.

With Steph Lauter, this summer could actually turn out okay…maybe…hopefully…he’d just have to wait and see.

Chapter Text

So the evening was fine, it had to be fine because, if it wasn’t, what else could it be? But it was fine. It was mainly choosing bunks, getting to know the layout of the camp and figuring out who was bunking with each other. Stephanie Lauter, shock of all shock, had ended up in the same bunk as Grace Chasity and Mary Michaels, two of the nerdiest prudes she’d ever had to meet. There was supposed to be a fourth girl, but she didn’t show apparently. In times like these, Steph would’ve joked, would’ve said that it would’ve made her life easier, being one Jesus Freak down. By the fact she was bunking with Grace Chasity, however, she didn’t think she physically could have her life be made easier until she was back at home. Back at home, or back with Pete.

She was on the top bunk, both Mary and Grace choosing the ones on the bottom. Steph didn’t mind, honestly. It meant that if the bunks collapsed, she’d land directly on to Grace, almost instantly crushing her to death. That gave her a sense of reassurance. Grace’s death would be an accident and she’d get to sue Abstinence Camp. It’d be great. Not that she needed the money, obviously. No. She’d put the money in an account and, after figuring out what it’d take to get that money transferred, she’d give it all to Pete. It was only a hypothetical, but that was where her mind was at. After all with no way to contact her boyfriend because their phones were confiscated, she’d have to entertain herself other ways.

…other ways.

Just because he wasn’t there didn’t mean she couldn’t think about him. She’d think about how he looked that morning. Think about how he had no choice but to flaunt the hickeys she’d given to him around. She’d think about all the soft noises he made as she tore into him, went down on him like her life depended on it. Like she’d been starving and he was the first meal she was able to consume after weeks. She lay there, thinking about what she’d done to him when she finally called it quits. She hopped down from her bunk, walking over to the door.

“Where are you going?” Grace Chasity asked, lying there in her white and purple floral pyjamas.

Steph turned to her, poker face activated. “To the bathroom.” With that, with no other words needed to be said, she left, shutting the door behind her, a smirk already growing on her face.

The next morning was fine. They were woken up unnaturally early which, for the regular attendees of Abstinence Camp seemed to be the norm. Steph got herself dressed into her stupid black shorts and her stupid Virginity Rocks! shirt, slipped on her sneakers, and headed to the Arts and Crafts Pavilion after breakfast where she had been told to go. Exhausted and with no room in her left for a fight, she sat down at one of the benches, running a hand through her hair. She did not have to wait long for someone else to join her because, opposite her, was her fucking incredible boyfriend.

“Morning, Steph,” he said softly. “Sleep okay?”

“I feel like I’ve been thrown off a cliff, drowned in the lake, revived, thrown out a tree and trampled on by Timberwolves.”

“Ah…yeah…not good then?”

“Nope.” She looked at him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes again. “I thought boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit together?”

“Eh, Mary and Noah are sat together with Gabe so…I think they don’t wanna lose sign ups by keeping boys and girls away from each other. I mean, how else are people ever gonna be able to make friends if they’re stuck with people of the same gender all the time, right?”

She shrugged. “Our case is a little different though.”

“Not if we hide it.”

“I’m sick of hiding it.”

“I know. But, for both of our safeties, I think it’d be better. I mean, I’ve already been torn into enough about these.” He gestured to the hickeys on his neck. She found herself smirking. “Steph, it’s not funny.”

“If it’s not funny, why am I laughing?”

“Because you would find it funny.” He leaned forward, gently poking her. “You nailed me an hour before we had to leave yesterday, and I still haven’t recovered.”

“Yeah, well good news, Lumberaxe isn’t real.” She said, obnoxiously changing the subject.

“…okay? I mean, I gathered that. This town is filled with shitty rumours and fictional cryptids to keep us at bay but like, that was a really random thing for you to say. What do you mean exactly by Lumberaxe isn’t real?”

She tilted her head. “…had a fun evening.”

Pete soon caught on to what she was trying to say. He swatted her hand, blushing. “Steph!”

She cackled. “Look! It’s not my fault you’re actually so goddamn attractive! It really, really isn’t!”

“Steph, you really can’t say that kinda shit here!”

“And who’s gonna be the one to stop me?” With him saying nothing else, she took his hand. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, as well as I could. But I did sleep.”

“And that’s all that’s important.” She let her hand untangle from his. Despite only just having taken it, she knew how strict the counsellors were about physical touch, and she did not want to land herself into any hot water this early on. She knew herself better than anyone, though, and she knew that even though she didn’t want to be in trouble, that was likely how it was going to end up anyway. Mayor’s daughter and all. All eyes were on her.

Once everyone was settled, Steph noticed how Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri walked into the Pavilion, both way too ecstatic for 10 AM. Boy Jerry held up a kit encased in plastic and, with that uncanny valley grin on his face, began to talk.

“Alright! Listen up, campers! We hope you slept well, and we hope you’ve been having a good morning so far. Welcome to your very first official day at Abstinence Camp, and today, your first task is that you’re gonna be making wallets. So!” He opened up the pack in his hand, placing the materials on the bench. “You’ll all see you have a premade pack in front of you. What you’re gonna wanna do is open that up, and you will find all your materials inside. What you need to do is choose a strip of leather, then a design. You’re gonna grab a mallet, head on over to the beating table and you’re gonna whack it for a while until the design is settled. You’ll stitch it up and you will end up with one of these beauties!” He proudly showed off one that had been made earlier on. “I will tell you, kids. Nothing gets out any pent up frustration like…” He inhaled sharply, sucking on his teeth. “Making a wallet.”

“Yes! Boy Jerry is right! After all, this is the very same technique that ye old settlers made when they touched down here! They made this exact same technique to make their wallets!” Girl Jeri added on. “So if you’d like to-“

“Really?” Steph found herself asking. “Our ancestors made their wallets with these cheap kits from Hobby Lobby? And like, why would they even need wallets back in? I am detecting some historical inaccuracy in your arguments.” She looked up to see everyone in the cabin looking at her, including Pete who, unlike the rest of their campmates, was doing his best to stifle laughter. “What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!”

Boy Jerry laughed then, but his teeth were grit together and his face was burning red with rage. “Ha…you seem to have a very bizarre sense of humour.”

“I’d say more of an attitude, Boy Jerry.” Girl Jeri folded her arms, tutting. “How dare you disrespect your ancestors! Everyone needs a wallet! And not just for holding money.”

Boy Jerry flipped through his clipboard to find her name, but by being honest, he didn’t need it. Everyone knew who she was. All eyes were on her, after all. “Stephanie Lauter.”

“That would be me.”

“You do have a bit of an attitude, don’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Well how about you step outside into our office, huh? I think you’re overdue a talk from your respective peers.”

She rolled her eyes but stood up, shooting Pete a look. She followed Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri outside the cabin, watching as the door closed behind her. As soon as it shut, she could hear Pete finally unleash that laughter inside, and she tried her very hardest to hide her smile. She faded.

Her superior councillors didn’t seem to notice her amusement, though, so she stayed put while Boy Jerry addressed her. “Fresh air and a warm breeze…all the air con I need to keep my mind clear and pure…” He looked down at her, arms folded. “So. The Mayor’s daughter. I’ve heard about you.”

“Who hasn’t heard about her?” Girl Jeri asked.

“We have heard about you and your…experimentational phase with Peter Spankoffski. Little Miss Bun-In-The-Oven.”

Steph’s jaw dropped open. “Has Grace seriously been telling people I’m pregnant?! I had a migraine once, puked, and all of a sudden I’m like, what, six weeks positive on a stick I peed on?! It was a dumb rumour! There’s literally no way I can be pregnant anyway! Pete’s not cis-“

“Teen pregnancy is no joke, Stephanie!” Girl Jeri added. “And you know, if you don’t start taking this work seriously, the work we are setting out to give you a better life, you’re going to end up with a child before you even graduate! Before you’re ready! You’ll have to drop outta school, your family’ll disown you!”

Steph noticed the tears in Girl Jeri’s eyes causing her to roll her own. “Already been disowned by my dad and I’m not pregnant!”

“Where are you gonna raise that baby, Stephanie?! In the woods?!”

“Not pregnant.” She hissed in a venomous whisper.

“We just want to help you! We know what it’s like, we want to help you!”

“Hey,” Boy Jerry suddenly said, placing his hand on Girl Jeri’s shoulder, causing her to very dramatically fall into his arms. “It’s okay, Girl Jeri. I’ve got you now. Nothing can hurt you.”

“Hold me, Boy Jerry!”

“I will, don’t worry.” His hand running through one of Girl Jeri’s ginger pigtails, he looked at her. “Look at what you have done to Girl Jeri! You have upset her! I oughta cover you in cover you in syrup!” He scoffed. “Go and make a wallet!”

Steph sharply turned her back, walking back into the cabin where she sat down at her place opposite Pete. “That was interesting.”

“I can’t breathe-“ He said through a wheezing laugh.

“Pete, oh my- I know Richie’s asthmatic but you?”

“I’ll be fine. I just- this place is so weird.”

She shook her head, that smile of her’s returning. “Anyway. Girl Jeri and Boy Jerry think I’m pregnant. Thanks Grace Chastity.”

“What?!”

“Yep. And I tried to tell ‘em that there was no way that I could be pregnant because, y’know…you’re not cis…and then Girl Jeri literally had a meltdown over teen pregnancy. It was fucking weird.” She tipped the contents of her wallet making kit out on to the table. “And I’m fed up and I may as well make a wallet. Who knows, it might actually bring me some relief!”

“Well, yeah. Either that, or you can get it all out on the hike this afternoon.”

“We’re doing a hike?” She asked him.

“…uh, yeah, that’s this afternoon’s activity. Hiking.”

She groaned, placing her head on the table. “Actually kill me now.”

The afternoon came around and Stephanie Lauter found herself walking beside her boyfriend who had started off strong, but in terms of it being mainly uphill through The Witchwoods combined with the blazing heat of the summer? He wasn’t doing well at all. He wouldn’t admit it, and Steph knew that, but she was worried about him and she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. So, she stayed behind with him, matching his pace. By the time they reached the top of the hill, his legs were so weak that, quite literally, he collapsed on to her and she had to do everything in her power to keep them both upright.

“Fuck-okay.” She said, holding on to him as he trembled. “We need to get you back down to the medical tent-“

“And what are they gonna do?” He asked, a new kind of wheeze to his voice. One breathless, one medicinally concerning. “Steph, they won’t do shit. They never do shit. They don’t even believe diabetes is real!”

“So this is a blood sugar thing, right?”

“I’m pretty sure!”

“Alright.” She looked around and, very carefully, sat him down on the side of the trail, propping him up against a tree. “You’d better be thankful over the fact that I managed to sneak these into camp then, hadn’t you?” From her pocket, she produced a bag filled with chocolates that she placed in Pete’s lap.

He looked down, blinking to get himself to process it. “…how?”

“Hid them in my bra, I told you, after all. And I have a bunch more in my suitcase, because didn’t you know that if a guy touches a woman’s bra, it’ll cause his hand to erupt in boils?”

“No shit?” He asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, it’s what it said in the abstinence pamphlet they hadn’t out yesterday during induction. I read it last night cuz I got bored.”

“I won’t lie. I wiped my ass with mine. It looked better than what they stock in the bathrooms here anyway. B’sides, it’s already filled with shit, what harm would it have done to add some more?”

“Peter.” She laughed. “You can be so vulgar sometimes.”

“Look, okay, I’m Spankoffski by name, Spankoffski by nature. I sorta have to be, just not on the same level as Ted. The shit he says is straight up vile sometimes.”

“I know.” She wrapped her arm around him, letting him lean into her as he ate one of the chocolates. “I think we deserve a sit down. This place can fuck off.”

“I literally still don’t understand why Ted sent me here. He’ll fight against every single thing my parents try to make him do regarding me but when it comes down to this, he’ll happily ship me away? Like, what?”

“I don’t know, Pete. I really don’t, but I wish we were back home.” She leaned in close. “I mean…I wonder what we’d be doing right now.” She said, kissing his temple. “Maybe I’d have you on your back-“

“Steph.” He went bright red, and Steph had a feeling that wasn’t all to do with his blood sugar levels dipping. “We’re in the outdoors. I don’t wanna get turned on sat out in the middle of the fuckin’ Witchwood!”

“And I’ve already told you. I did a little experiment and came down to my own conclusion that Lumberaxe isn’t real! I lived to tell the tale!”

“I hate the fact you can causally admit that and I become a blushing mess.”

“You haven’t all been tarnished by your brother’s reputation. It’s kinda cute. And don’t you start. You jacked off during that test that one time!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, when they phrase the question like that, it was bound to happen and unfortunately, it was me and Callahan seemed to really enjoy that revelation.”

She smiled. “What was it again? Something about…Cindy’s melons?”

He sighed. “It was Stacy’s melons…and I commit it to memory by accident.”

“Oh, sure. By accident, babe. Sure.” She fell silent before nudging him. “You realise I’m now gonna ask you to repeat it?”

He leaned further into her and mumbled the exact exam question he’d been tortured with. “Stacy has two plump melons. Each one is perfectly spherical with a diameter of twenty centimetres.”

“All I’m saying is Stacy’s stacked.”

“Steph.”

“What!”

“You can’t just say that!”

“I can and I just did.”

He sighed. “Jessica walks in with a big pair of jugs. If she squeezes Stacy’s melons with a force of ten grams per square centimetre, how long will it take before Jessica’s jugs are full and ready to put to your lips?”

Steph burst out laughing. “Oh, they had to have known. They just had to have known what they were doing.”

“Sick bastards…now that’s all I’m gonna think about.”

“I don’t think it will be.”

“No, it will-“

She gave him no chance to finish his sentence. She grabbed his jaw, pulling him into a deep kiss which he all but eased into. “Hope I’ve given you something else to think of now.”

“My blood sugar might be low but I have a feeling my head spinning is because of other reasons.”

“Oh, I’m sure, sweetheart…so how about those showers tonight then?”

“Steph!” His face went an even deeper shade of red.

“Come on. You’re the one who says rules were always made to be broken.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”

“I’m just joking, Pete. I’d never ask you to do anything like that unless you were comfortable. But instead of thinking about the fictional Stacy with the stacked melons, you can think of me.”

He shook his head. “Look, we should go.”

“We probably should. But uh, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. I should be.”

“We can stay here for a moment until you’re certain that you’re gonna be fine. You know that, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah…I know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

She stood up. “I’m gonna stretch my legs, though.”

“Yeah, that’s oaky. You do what you need to.”

“I will.”

She leant against the side of the tree, the same one Pete was propped up against, doing her best to stretch. However, they were not the only ones off in the middle of the woods, taking a quick detour from the rest of society.

The third observer, unimpressed by what he was viewing, turned around, heading directly back to the outskirts of camp to go to the archery fields, the activity he knew Grace was participating in that afternoon. Once there, and once safely out of sight, he sharply whistled. In an instant, he could hear her voice, listen to her la la las as she made her way over to him. He was leaning against a brick wall, smirking. “Should put a collar on you. You came like a dog.”

Grace Chasity looked up at him, removing one of her butterfly clips to fix her hair. “I am no dog.”

“But you’re one filthy bitch.”

She shot a sharp glare at him. “What do you want, Max?”

“I thought I’d like to let you know that Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski have detoured away from their hiking group and are currently flirting very openly in the middle of the woods. Talking about sex, and the repulsive natures of society.”

“What is repulsive is the fact you’re wearing whore shorts and a crop top.”

“What? Dontcha like it?” Max said, doing a spin. It was true. The blue shirt that he was wearing had been cut just above his navel, and the shorts he wore, black with white stripes down the sides, left little to the imagination. “I wore it for you, Gracie.”

“Perv.”

“Look. I just thought I’d let you know. You have more power in these parts than I do, and trust me, if I had the power, they’d already be pulp. But no, they’ve been taking the lord’s name in vain and everything.”

“What are you even doing here anyway, Max Jagerman?”

“Got a job here with the Hatchet Men. Been helping to keep some of these trees nice and tidy. They protect the ones that need protecting and we get rid of the useless ones! It’s simple!”

“It definitely is not simple.” She scrunched her nose up. “I do not believe you for a second.”

“Eh well, the days are long and hard…like my dick-“

“Pervert!” She cried out, shoving him away.

“Aww, come on, Gracie. I’ve got a perfectly good backseat in my BMW! Just gimme a chance!”

“Absolutely not! You are pure filth!”

“You’re no better, Gracie.”

“Look.” She glared at him. “All I can really do is report them to Jerry and Jeri, but with no evidence, it will be hard to get them kicked out of camp which shouldn’t even be an option! If they are being filthy and downright disgusting then they should be educated! They should learn from their mistakes by welcoming Jesus into their hearts!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Max shoved his hands in his pockets. “Now, I’m gonna go back to work, but I thought you’d like to know.”

“Yes, thank you, Max Jagerman. I will be sure to report them.”

“That’s my good girl.”

“I am not your girlfriend!” She shouted.

“No, but you will be one day!” He shouted back, walking back into the depths of The Witchwood.

She shuddered, trying not to think too hard about the implications. Her and Max Jagerman in that kind of a relationship? Filthy. Disgusting. Horrendous. She would never, ever date someone like Max. Not someone as tall, or strongly built…or with that six pack of his-

No. Those thoughts needed to stop, and she needed to shake those butterflies from her mommy spot. This was not the time or the place. This was Abstinence Camp, the best place on earth! She needed no man to make her summer heaven. She needed nobody to make her life holy. Except maybe Jesus.

Screw that. Jesus could absolutely stick around.

Knowing that there was no evidence to back up Max Jagerman’s point, however, Grace persisted with the day, tackling every activity like it was gold medal worthy. Then, after dinner, she settled down by the campfire. By that point, Max Jagerman had been pushed to the back of her mind but there, she had been faced with a new issue.

Gabriel Kilten.

Gabe was one of Grace’s fellow churchgoers and Abstinence Camp long-term attendees. He had a younger twin brother, Simon, who these days went by “Skud.” The two could not be more different from each other, though. While Skud respected the likes of music from death metal to My Chemical Romance, Gabe would listen to things like Christian Rock and I Love You Jesus by Trisha Paytas. When Grace wasn’t listening to the audiobook version of The Bible, she had I Love You Jesus on repeat. It was great. That was how Grace knew Gabe was a good Christian boy. Because he listened to the same music she did. He was nice, and he respected The Lord which was a win in Grace’s books. But what she did not appreciate was him trying to scare the new kids with a fictional cryptid. Grace believed most things, and even she knew Lumberaxe wasn’t real.

But there she was, sitting around the campfire with Stephanie Lauter, Peter Spankoffski, Noah Adams and Mary Michaels as she listened in to Gabe overexaggerating a tale put in place to scare new kids regarding losing their virginity. Not that Grace would ever lose her virginity. Not until she was married at least, and she certainly wasn’t marrying Max Jagerman. Not by any chance.

Gabe looked over at Grace, his blue eyes piercing through the darkness. “Look, I know that virginity rocks, and you know that virginity rocks, but the new kids don’t! And sometimes, He offers a little extra motivation, and this time around, it has formed in the shape of Lumberaxe: The Mad Woodsman! Because, when He looked down on Hatchetfield, he saw a city full of adulterers, and fornicators.”

“Go Nighthawks.” Pete mumbled as Steph cackled.

Immediately, he whipped his head around to look at Steph. “You won’t be laughing when he comes for you! See, God sent him to punish the wicked, with his feet like thunder and his axe oh-so sharp! These woods are his.”

“I’m pretty sure the woods belong to The Hatchet Men, aside from that one plot of land which I genuinely believe is owned by Emma Perkins.” Steph shot back in retaliation.

“But The Hatchet Men only abide by the rules that Lumberaxe set in place! The Axe Man is their boss and they will obey him, because there’s one thing he will not abide in his domain. Perversion. Kissing. Touching your private parts. Or heaven forbid…pre-marital sex. It’s something I’m sure you’re familiar with, Stephanie. With a baby on a way and everything.”

Steph stared at him, a shocked smile in her eyes. “Really? You all think I’m pregnant?!”

“She literally can’t be pregnant. I don’t have a dick.” Pete said. “I can’t knock her up even if I wanted!”

Gabe blinked, looking at the two of them. “Wait…you two are like…boyfriend and girlfriend?!”

“Yes! And I’m not pregnant!” Steph stood. “And Lumberaxe isn’t fucking real!”

“Oh really?!” Gabe asked. “How do you explain the five kids who have gone missing at this very camp then?!”

Pete, standing with Steph, looked back to Pete. “This is Hatchetfield, Gabe. People go missing every day.” With that, the two walked away.

Shaking her head, Grace stood. “Look, it’s getting late. We should all be getting back to our cabins now anyway.”

“Yes…she’s right.” Mary said. “Come on Noah.” And, together, they walked away leaving Grace and Gabe around the firepit.

Except Grace didn’t care like that for Gabe. She grabbed the bucket she lay out at the start of the evening, tipping it over the fire. Grabbing a stick, she swirled the mush around. “Drown, stir, and stir again.”

From one of the logs, Gabe watched on, tilting his head. “You’re really good at that, Grace.”

“No thanks to Smokey the Bear. That lustful shirtless animal!” Grace shook her head. “Mom says he was created by liberals to tempt kids into beastiality!”

“Yeah, mine too.”

“Gabe, your mom’s dead.”

He blinked. “Oh yeah. Kinda forgot about it. But when she was alive, that was what she used to say. But it’s easy to forget that she’s dead, y’know? Cuz, I always thought I’d never get to meet a girl as cool as my mom, and then I met you, Grace and…I don’t know how I’m s’posed to say this so, I’m just gonna.” He took a breath. “I like you, Grace.”

“I like you too, Gabe, but not when you try to convince people that Lumberaxe is real, because he isn’t.”

“Yeah, but like, what if we were more than friends?” He asked her.

She shook her head, sighing as if she were about to say the most obvious thing on earth. “We are more than friends, Gabe! We are pew pals, and that’s more valuable than a friend’ll ever be to me! Now, I’m gonna go to bed and hope Mary isn’t having a meltdown! Byeeee!”

Grace skipped off, and all Gabe could do was watch, more than aware of the situation happening within his shorts. With a deep sigh, he stood. “Guess I am going to go and make a wallet,” he said at once, walking as quick as possible over to the Arts and Crafts Pavilion, hoping that nobody else was able to see the unfortunate situation he’d put himself in on it.

But after three failed attempts at trying to make three different wallets, Gabe realised that there was no use in trying. He was screwed, and he wasn’t getting out of this unless he acted upon it himself. So, reluctantly, his hand reached to his belt, and as he went to undo it, there was a very loud thud, causing Gabe to jump. He turned, and there, at the other end of the beating table was none other than Max Jagerman.

Max turned his head, looking at Gabe with an eyebrow raised. “Evening, Gabriel.”

“What the heck are you doing here?! Your name wasn’t on the rota for camp this year, and I know because I saw the list!”

“This place really isn’t hard to break in to. ‘Sides. I know how to make a wallet. I’m a master at it, I’d say.”

A chill began to fill the room, the summer night turning icy cool. It was cold enough, actually, that when Gabe exhaled, he could see his breath lingering in the air. A shiver ran down his spine and all he could do was hug himself. “…you can’t be real.”

“Can I not?” Max asked, setting down his equipment.

“How long have you even been in here for?!”

“Long enough to know what you were trying to do.” Max stood, facing Gabe. “Mind if I take my shirt off, by the way? It’s quite warm this evening. Humid.”

Gabe looked up, noticing how Max was donning a cropped Virginity Rocks! shirt. Mucus got stuck in the back of Gabe’s throat and he coughed, forcing himself to swallow it down so he could at least speak. “…it’s freezing-“

“Great! Thanks!” With that, Max tore off his shirt, letting it drop down to the floor.

In an instant, Gabe looked away, wanting to be respectful. He did not believe he should be viewing his body, or anyone else’s, until he was married. However, there seemed to be an issue because, after the sound of something dragging against wet wood, Gabe was quick to find out that Max Jagerman was now standing directly behind him. Directly behind him, shirtless, with nothing but short shorts on.

“Tell me, Gabriel. What do you think of this wallet I made? You think I did the instructions right?”

“…which wallet?” He asked, looking down at the dimly lit table. “You’re not holding one.”

“This wallet, of course.”

All Gabe felt was a sting, and all he could hear was a sharp cackle as he blinked. A warm, sticky liquid dribbled down his neck and, bringing his hand up, he realised he was bleeding. Bleeding, from a slash in his neck, one that was deep and already invading his throat. He coughed, but Max pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, Gabe. It’s okay. Except…no. No it isn’t okay. And do you want me to tell you why it’s not okay? No need to answer, I’m gonna say anyway.” He walked round to the other side of the table, ensuring he would be the last thing that Gabe saw while he died. Face splattered with blood, Max grinned across to Gabe, swinging his favourite weapon back over his shoulder. “You see, I don’t like the fact that you’re hitting on Grace Chasity. She rejected your advances and you proceeded with her? I mean, that’s sick, bro! That’s super fucking sick! Do you not understand that ‘no’ is the most important word a girl can utter? No? With your physique, I didn’t think so.” Max twirled the axe around in his head, being very careful not to hit himself with the blood-coated blade attached to the end of it. “But let me tell you something, Gabe. Grace was never yours, and she never will be. You wanna know why? Again, don’t bother asking, I’m gonna say anyway.” He leaned across the table, watching as Gabe spluttered on his own blood, it slowly drowning him as it spilled from his mouth like tar. “Grace Chasity? She’s mine. And I, The Axe Man, always get what I want. Now, say your final words, bitch.”

Garbled mess waterfalled from Gabe’s mouth as his eyes rolled back and he fell forward.

With another sharp cackle, Max walked around to the other end of the bench, grabbing Gabe’s head with a fistful of hair. Sitting him up, Max waved the axe in front of the now-deceased Gabe’s face. “I think we should finish what we started, Gabriel. How about we…make a wallet?” Wasting no time, Max slashed a singular line down the centre of Gabe’s face. Using tweezers he grabbed from the pocket of his short shorts, he peeled the skin away, revealing the pink, pulsing muscle. Once he had successfully removed the skin off of Gabe’s face, he moved to further places. His neck. His chest. His arms, legs and abdomen were all skinless in the next hour.

A pile of flesh sat on the beating table, the wrinkled, disfigured body of Gabe Kilten lying forwards face down. He was dressed back in his camp uniform, which Max thought was a fitting representation of a clear metaphor of what Abstinence Camp stood for. Leaving the dead body there, letting the blood seep on to the wooden floor, bench and table, Max looked at his brand new materials, picked up a mallet and got to work. By the end of the night, a mysterious stack of wallets sat in the corner of the room surrounding the dead body of Gabriel Kilten. It was a good thing that Abstinence Camp had no cameras. If they did, they’d surely see The Axe Man, and at this point in time, he didn’t really want to be exposed.

Not in that way, at least.

Chapter Text

The sun rose over Abstinence Camp the morning after the scene occurred. The pinks and oranges of the morning swirled together to create golden, which, in a way, was what most people were expecting. Abstinence Camp, for the kids, was a safe heaven and, fortunately for them, that was reflected in the skies. God had sent down a safe-coloured barrier for these kids, because absolutely nothing was wrong. Despite the awful feeling in the pits of many of the counsellor’s stomachs, everything was fine. It was Abstinence Camp, it was safe and nothing had happened…

…until Girl Jeri confirmed their fears.

When she went to set up the new crafting activity for one of the other groups that morning, she opened the door and her jaw dropped open. Hands shaking, she gripped on to the craft baskets she had been tasked with setting out on the benches for the kids. She knew there was no way they were going to be able to be using that bench for quite some time, though.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of metal which quickly turned pungent. Sour. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit cabin, she saw it. One of their campers, Gabriel Kilten, dead. Skinned like a rabbit. In that similar sense, her eyes drifted over to the corner of the room where she saw what his skin had been used for. Wallets. His skin had been crafted into wallets. Someone knew how to make wallets, and Girl Jeri instantly began to panic. What if it was one of the kids in the cabin from yesterday’s crafting activity? What if they held on to that information then murdered Gabe in plain sight? Leaving him out for her to find him like a cat would proudly present a mouse. Even worse, what if this wasn’t going to be the victim?

Trying not to vomit, Girl Jeri stepped in the cabin. She the thin curtains closed which would ensure nobody was able to peer in. Then, she stepped out. She locked the door and, instantaneously, ran back to her cabin. Her home, in the woods, separated from the rest of the staff cabins. There was good reason why she lived so far away from everyone else, and it was because their accommodation wasn’t temporary. That cabin in the woods was home, and not just for the summer. With it being so close to camp anyway, though, they chose not to hire out an additional cabin for themselves when they could just use their home.

So, Girl Jeri burst through the door, tears in her eyes as she looked through to the ground-floor kitchen.

Sitting there, at the kitchen table, in his typical blue shirt and green cargo shorts was Boy Jerry, sitting with a plate of toast before him. Also there, at the table, was their five year old son, Jerie, who had made a complete mess of his breakfast. Usually, it was something that Jeri would become infuriated over, but he was only five and there were bigger things at hand. Her son may look like he was murdered because of the strawberry jam all over him, but someone had actually lost their life, and she needed to figure out what to do.

“Boy Jerry!” She announced. “We need to talk! Away from the boy!”

“Alright, Girl Jeri!” He lifted Little Jerie up from his chair, getting him out of his pyjama shirt. “Okay, Little Jerie. You go play while I talk to your mother!” Jerry watched as the smaller boy ran off to the living room to go and play with his toys. He laughed, folding his arms. “Oh, the little tyke! What a character he is!” He turned back to Jeri. “What’s the matter, Girl Jeri? You seem…distressed?”

“Yes! I think I have reason to be distressed!” She slammed her hands down on the table. “Gabriel Kilten was m-murdered!”

Jerry blinked, processing that information. “Are you sure it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you?”

“I am almost certain that a skinned body with the skin being crafted into wallets was not a figment of my imagination, Boy Jerry!” She shook her head. “I closed the curtain and I locked the door so nobody else can get in but the floors are blood-sodden and the bench is completely screwed! We’re going to need to get it replaced, but how do we explain that to the repairmen when they ask how our floors were that blood-coated!”

He stood up, patting her shoulder. “If you stay here and watch the boy, I shall go and cleanse everything.”

“You can’t! It’s wood! It’s absorbent!”

“And I can mend it. We will just need to…jiggle things around today! Cancel all my activities for this afternoon and give the kids an extra free period! You take the day off, Girl Jeri! That must have been traumatic.”

“I feel like you’re not taking me seriously, Jerry.” She hissed out. “I don’t know who killed him, but they were all perfect wallets! At least, they looked to be from a distance! What if there’s a murderer on the camp’s grounds?!”

“I’m sure there isn’t.”

“But what if there is!” She finally looked up to him, tears coating her beautiful blue eyes. “What if Gabe is the start of all of this!? I mean, what do we even tell Gabe’s parents?! He has a twin brother, Jerry! He has already lost his mother and now he’s lost his older brother too?!”

“Look! Girl Jeri, I don’t exactly know what we’re supposed to do in this situation, I really do not! What I know we need to do is continue camp for the rest of these kids. Raising alarms by saying that there’s a murderer here?! We can’t say that! It’ll cause mass hysteria! So, we will tell Gabe’s guardian that he went missing, like the other kids-“

“The other kids weren’t dead though, Jerry.”

“But these kids need us.” Jerry grabbed a shovel from the door. “Mrs Jenkins is on her way to pick Little Jerie up later on. I will go and bury the body. You will stay here and remain sane, okay? Try not to worry, nobody will find out.”

“Okay, Boy Jerry.”

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled at her, then headed out the door, and that was that. For the time being, at least.

During breakfast that morning Boy Jerry stood before them all, that uncanny smile on his face, the one that never left. It had some of the more regular attendees (by name, Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski,) wondering if he ever frowned. It seemed not. Maybe he had botched Botox? No. Why would he? He, like Grace, was a hardcore Christian and therefore wouldn’t dream of changing his appearance, because it was what The Lord had given them and therefore it was beautiful and he needed to learn to accept that side of him before he learnt to accept anyone else. He was put on the earth to send a message, clearly.

But not the one he’d been hired to send.

“Alright, campers, listen up!” He shouted, drawing attention to the people with empty plates and empty bowls. “I have some news I would like to share with you. As you may notice, we are missing two of our regulars. We are missing our beloved Girl Jeri and her sweet strawberry smelling perfume, and one of our campers, Gabriel Kilten. Coming with the job of camp councillor at Abstinence Camp comes with its highs and its lows. Unfortunately, for you, I have to delve into the lows of this job.” He took a deep breath. “Last night, Gabriel Kilten did not return back to his bunk after the campfire went out. He is officially missing as of today.”

“What?!” Cried Mary Michaels, pulling on her stubby pigtails. “Why?!”

“We don’t know, Mary. If we knew, he would’ve been found by now. Now-!”

“But camp’s gonna continue?!” Steph suddenly shouted out. If Mary was gonna be speaking out on this then Steph, as the mayor’s daughter, felt obligated to do so too. “I mean, have the cops even been called?! I know they’d probably do nothing but it’s worth a try!”

Jerry looked in her direction. “Well, there is no phone signal out here in the woods so contacting the HFPD would be impossible, a reason why we confiscated your phones. So you would be able to focus without trying to connect to Wi-Fi all of the time. And secondly, camp will not be continuing today. All activities have been cancelled. Girl Jeri has gone into a state of distress and therefore, it is not fair for her to lead any camp activities. We do not have the right amount of staff in right now for anyone to cover, so, camp is cancelled for today but will resume as normal today. Once you are finished with breakfast, you have free reign of the camp, but don’t wander too deep into the woods. We wouldn’t want you to encounter The Axe Man now, would we?”

“The Axe Man isn’t real.” Grace mumbled, setting her plate in the sink. “If camp is cancelled for the day, which is highly unfortunate and not a part of God’s plan, then I will be going to the shower! Goodbye Peter! Goodbye, Stephanie!” She said, la-la-la’aing away.

Steph, feeling like it was right to do so, then turned to Pete. “So. Wanna go sit down in the forest? We’ve already proven that The Axe Man isn’t real…might as well test it further. It’s a bitchin’ make-out spot, I hear.”

“I mean…if we’re gonna be unsupervised…may as well, mightn’t we?”

“As long as we don’t wander too far.” Steph set her bowl down in the sink next to Grace’s plate, looking to Pete. “Gonna follow then, Spankoffski?”

“Y-Yeah…” He blushed, standing, following her out to the cabin.

Instead of following the trail like they had done the day before, they chose a less hilly path which still took them quite the distance through to The Witchwood but not so far away that they’d get lost. Honestly, getting lost in The Witchwoods seemed like a nightmare. A nightmare that had already be fulfilled.

After all, Steph hadn’t quite forgotten what happened last time with Max-

Her hand raised, her face wincing as she gripped her head. She collapsed to the floor, dead tree bark digging into her knees as the onset migraine took over every nerve in her body. With a hum in her ears, she could only very faintly hear Peter asking her if she was okay, asking her what was wrong. Instead, when her hearing cleared, it was not Pete’s voice she heard, but that of someone she thought was still in the mainland.

“Yo, that was dramatic.”

Immediately, Steph whipped her head around to see none other than Maxwell Jagerman standing there, looking down at her, in all his cropped-top glory. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Nice shirts. Virgins.”

Neither Steph nor Pete commented, instead turning so they were sitting down on the floor. Steph plucked the bark from her knees as Pete looked straight ahead. “Why are you wearing a Virginity Rocks! shirt inside out anyway, Max? You don’t go to this camp.”

“And you two didn’t until this year. There’s always a plan to start somewhere, and my plan starts here. Or, did you not know it? My one true secret love is Jesus Christ!”

“Stop fucking lying, Max. You’re being stupid.” Steph ran her hand through her hair, the migraine gone. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Got an internship with Bob Metzger. Guarding the trees and all that, y’know? Keeping the safety of The Witchwood. Paid internship. I’m gonna save up all my money and make it my gas money for when my car runs outta fuel.”

“Typical, Max.”

He leant against the tree, checking his fingernails. He grimaced. The dried blood underneath them wasn’t ideal. He’d need to give his hands an extra good scrubbing. “So. You heard the truth about Gabe Kilten?”

“What? That he’s missing? Yes, Max, we know.” Pete said, visibly tense from being in close proximity with the quarterback of the Hatchetfield Nighthawks.

“Nah. He ain’t missing, though.”

“Yeah? And how would you know that, Max?” Steph asked, leaning her head on Pete’s shoulder, closing her eyes.

The quarterback chuckled. “Cuz, last night, when I was headed home after my shift? My route just so happened to pass by your campsite. And there I saw him, Gabe Kilten, shooting his shot with Grace Chasity.”

“Yeah right, Max.”

“I’m being serious, Steph! He was trying, and failing, at flirting with Grace Chasity! Then, when he didn’t get his way! He was tenting in his stupid little hiking shorts. So, of he goes to what I assumed was the Arts and Crafts Pavilion. I just happened to be there by the window, and there I saw him. Gabe Kilten, jerking off to the thought of Grace Chasity.”

Pete recoiled, disgusted. “Okay, we don’t need to know no more-“

“And he was all like,” Max heightened his voice to a whinier, more Gabe-sounding tone. “Oh, Gracie! What a modest brassiere you have on! Oh, what a lovely swimming costume! How I would love to get you in one of these showers and slip ‘n slide you! No, I don’t know what that means either. But he was going at it. Legs spread, dick out like acts of public nudity aren’t literally illegal and he was going oh fuck, Gracie! You feel so good! You’re so goddamn hot! Wish it were your mouth wrapped around me! I mean, he wasn’t even that big anyway. Like…2 inches?”

“Why were you staring at his dick?!” Steph cried out, covering her ears with one of her hands, readjusting herself so her other ear was pressing directly against Pete’s shoulder.

“Anyway, and he was all like, oh God, Gracie! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!” Max paused, tilting his head. “And then I got this photo.” Max pulled out his phone, flipping it around to show Steph.

She looked at it, heart dropping, blood running cold. “…that’s an axe. In the middle of Gabe’s skull.”

“You’re right. It is.” Max put his phone away. “I was planning on going home…but I watched as The Axe Man peeled the skin off of Gabe Kilten, and then sat there turning that skin into wallets while Gabe bled out.”

“S-So the Axe Man’s real?” Pete squeaked out.

“Obviously, Spankoffski! Keep up!”

Comedically slow, Steph and Pete shot a glance towards each other. Well, there went their plans for trying to defy the laws of The Axe Man.

“You’re not even supposed to be here, Max.”

“I know. And I’m going back to work now. Thought you’d like to know though! See ya!” With that, he walked the other way.

Pete gulped. “So uh…no shower time shenanigans?”

“…I didn’t get murdered when I…so why was it different for me than it was to Gabe?” She shook her head. “Wait. He coulda photoshopped that.”

“But Steph, this is Hatchetfield. It’s not like shit like that isn’t notorious!”

“True…” She shut her eyes. “…so. The Axe Man is, in fact, real, and has now ruined our summer plans.” She looked at him. “…how are you, a Spankoffski of Spankoffski descent, gonna survive?”

“I don’t know.” He groaned, holding Steph in close. “We’re not surviving the summer.”

“Quite literally this time round, though. Cuz if we get caught he’ll…” She mimed chopping her head off with an axe. “Oh, Pete, we are fucked.”

“We’re so fucked.”

“…so no shower shenanigans?”

“None at all.”

“And it’s a safe bet, right! Because then if we do nothing, we won’t be murdered!”

“We won’t! you’re right!”

“And there’s no way we’re risking anything!”

“Nope! Not at all!”

“Nothing strange is gonna go down in the showers!”

“Nothing at all!”

She retracted everything she’d said earlier. Even if her boyfriend wasn’t present, weird shit still went down in the showers.

There, she was being confronted by Grace Chasity, who was wrapped up in a towel with her parents’ face on it, dripping wet, wearing a teal and white bathing costume. Steph, however, was standing there, black towel in hands alongside a change of clothes for her to change in to while she was behind the curtain. She had also changed her sneakers for sandals, something she wouldn’t mind ruining in the water. There was no way she was chancing anything with the floors of the Abstinence Camp bathrooms. Surely, she and Pete couldn’t have been the only ones to consider sex in the shower…but maybe they weren’t. As proven now, The Axe Man was, in fact, real and was, in fact, on the hunt for teenagers who dared to indulge in their lustful habits. But, there she was, confronted by one of her worst nightmares. The nerdiest prude to ever live, Grace Chasity.

“Good afternoon, Steph! I see you have taken some time for yourself this summer to get your head straight! I see you are using your day off wisely! To get yourself clean!”

“…did you just shower in that swimsuit?” Steph asked her, clutching her towel closer to her chest to hide what was already hidden.

Grace nodded, laughing like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was the norm, to shower in a swimming costume. “Of course I did. I mean, it’s camp policy anyway cuz like, you don’t wanna see your own body and start getting crazy ideas.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

She flinched. “One, don’t swear, that’s against camp policy but because I’m in such a good mood I won’t report you. Two, I mean, imagine looking at your boobies or your mommy spot and then getting so turned on that you wanna get handsy with yourself!” She shook her head. “I would never.”

“Look. If you’re sexually attracted to your own body, I think that’s some sort of mental health issue, anyway. And we’re outside everyday getting sweaty and dirty…if you don’t clean yourself…all of yourself, then you will get a UTI, and that is not something I wanna deal with while at camp. A period’s gonna be bad enough.”

Grace stared before her jaw dropped open, her eyes widening. “Stephanie Lauter are you trying to tell me that you are going to swim without a swimsuit?!”

“Yes! I only bought one swimsuit for when we’re forced to do swimming, and it will not be used for showering in!”

She pointed a finger at her. “You are going straight to Hell.”

“If only you knew, Grace. If only you knew. Now, are you gonna let me shower in peace, or am I gonna have to make a sudden rash decision which’ll surely send me to your definition of Hell?”

“I’m sorry, Steph, but I can’t let you revert back to that kind of behaviour! It’s that what got you here in the first place!”

“My dickhead dad got me here in the first place. And considering you’re pissing me off, I’ve decided that I’m going to abide by further rules.”

Steph turned, heading out the door, followed by Grace, who awkwardly waddled. “Where are you going?!” She asked.

She merely shot Grace a smirk as she headed to the lodge next door. The boy’s shower cabins. Watching as the fear and horror filled Grace’s eyes, she pushed down on the handle and, without second thought, stepped inside, waiting for those horrors to take her over.

Chapter Text

“Cover up, I’m coming in!” Steph shouted as she stepped on inside, closing the door to the boys’ cabin behind her. With her luck, it’d be a packed room filled with gross 17-18 year olds who acted like they were still about 11. Yeah, she couldn’t deal with the prospect of that, but she needed a shower and she couldn’t really wait any longer. She was already preparing herself to face the likes of people like Noah Adams, so when she looked up, the last person she expected to see was her boyfriend stood there in nothing but a towel.

Pete was awkwardly hugging himself, doing his best to cover the rest of himself up. “Steph!”

“Peter Spankoffski.” She said, nose crinkling as she smirked. “This sure is a sight. Dressed like this for me? Just a towel round your waist? Babe, I thought we agreed no sex until we got home!”  

“What are you doin’ in here?! You could get us in some serious trouble.”

“Eh, well, Grace Chasity’s insisting that I need to shower in my bathing suit which I am not fuckin’ doing. So I escaped her and here I am.” She held a hand up, watching as he went to speak. “And before you ask, that’s genuinely what happened. I’m not interested in sex or anything right now.”

“Okay…okay, good.”

“So uh. The showers, Pete?”

“Y-Yeah…”

Her smile widened. “Babe, you don’t gotta be so self-conscious. I’ve seen you naked before.”

“In different circumstances!”

“You’re all blushy.” She walked forward, pinching his cheek. “If I get us both in trouble for this, I am so sorry. Genuinely”

“Eh, what’s the worst that could happen honestly? They let me go home? Back to Ted? Back in time for The Honey Festival? Thank fuck.”

“Maybe we’ll both get to go home. This place is literally Hell. And with Gabe missing?” She shook her head, walking over to one of the stalls. “By the way, this room’s empty aside from us, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Pete nodded. “I mean, I was gonna shower but I don’t wanna intrude and-“

“Pete,” she said, looking up to him. “There are separate stalls.”

“Oh. Forgot about that.”

She laughed. “You’re such a dork, Spankoffski…well, see ya on the other side.”

“On the other side of the stall door or…?”

“When I’m out the shower.” She reassured.

“Oh. Yeah. Makes more sense.”

Steph stepped inside one of the stalls, locking the door. She hung her bag up on the peg attached to the back of the door, flipping the shower on. From her bag, she pulled out her shampoo, conditioner and her shower gel, which she set on the small shelf so it’d be easy for her to reach. Ten, she stripped down, hanging her clothes up on the peg as well, and stepped under the water. Then, seemingly from nowhere, she heard Pete’s voice in the stall next to her’s.

“So like…do you think what Gabe was saying about those kids going missing here was true or not?”

Steph thought about it, massaging her shampoo into her hair. “Dad’s the mayor. If you’d ask him, he’d say the secrets in this town would shock you. But, we’ve been through some shit together. Transcending dimensions and all that other shit. And uh, I think that those kids aren’t missing. I think that every person who goes missing in Hatchetfield will always wind up dead.”

“…why’d you think that for?”

“I mean. My mom’s like, the perfect example for this.”

“Steph, your mom’s missing.”

She tipped her head back, letting the shampoo wash away. “Mom ran for Honey Queen back in 2015. It was right around the time she discovered the affair between my dad and Miss Tessburger. She was determined to make something of herself other than Solomon Lauter’s wife.” She paused for a second to add a second round of shampoo. “Of course, she won. The title, I mean… she never came home that night. Everyone always says that the Honey Queens run to get off the island, but mom never wanted to leave me. If she was getting off the island, she was taking me with her. That’s what she always said, at least. It was one of the last things she said to me, actually…she didn’t return home that night, no, and I asked dad where she was. In true Lauter fashion, dad said she was missing, which is a lie cuz I know the truth.”

“…the truth?”

“Let me let you into a little secret, Pete.” She cleared her throat. “The truth is that mom died that night, not that dad’ll ever admit it to himself…but I heard that phone call between him and Roman Murry. He’ll never confess I caught him discussing the details either.”

As she let the water run clear again, she noticed Pete was taking a little while to reply. When she went to speak up, went to ask him if he was okay, his spoke up. “Shit, Steph. I…I literally had no idea-“

“And no one does. Dad’s insistent mom’s still missing, but I know the truth. We both know the truth…but it’s whatever. He has Miss Tessburger now. He can do whatever. He can live in denial all he wants, I know the truth and it’s the truth I’m sticking with. Besides, it’s not like I care enough about him to argue against his stupid views.” She uncapped her conditioner, massaging it into the ends of her hair. “And it’s been years anyway. I miss her. I miss her so badly…doesn’t mean I’m gonna stay hung up on it. Time moves on, and so do the people around here. They don’t stay hung up on things just because they can’t tolerate the truth. And, I mean, what do people want me to do? Mom died five years ago. I gotta move on at some point, though.”

“But like, are you okay about it?”

She shrugged, beginning to clean her body with her shower gel. “I miss her every day. She was…she was my everything, my mom. She was my best friend and she was always there to listen to me. She made me feel like I was worth this life. That I was worth everything I’d been given. She never let me become spoilt- well, she spoilt me because I was her daughter, but she never let me delve into the spoilt lifestyle. She humbled me. Kinda grateful she did, I’d hate to be a spoilt bitch.”

“I’m glad you’re the way you are, Steph…and I’d have loved to meet your mom.”

“She was badass. You literally couldn’t tell her no. If she wanted something, she’d work til she got it…maybe that’s why I’m so stubborn. Because so was my mom. So was mom and dad, actually. I’m half of both of ‘em, and I’m even more stubborn than dad is, not that he'll admit that to himself either.”

“Well, I mean…I’m glad you’re you. I like the Steph Lauter I know…I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

“But like, to answer your question, yes, Pete, I am okay.” Steph did nothing to stop her smile. It kind of felt good, for him to know the truth about her fucked up family. Even if he didn’t believe her, he now what she’d been through, and that was enough for her to solidify their seriousness. “You okay over there?” She asked him after a short while.

“Uh…yeah. Just, not really too interested in using this half-used bar of soap.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Cuz you were talking about your mom, Steph! I didn’t wanna interrupt over something as stupid as soap!”

“It’s not stupid.” She said, capping her shower gel, holding it above the partition. “Just use mine.”

She could detect his hesitancy, feel his eyes on her. “…marshmallow scented?”

“Babe. Marshmallow scented does not equal feminine. It smells really good. Just try it!” After he didn’t say anything, she sighed, leaning against the wall. “It’s either this or that soap about a thousand other guys have rubbed on their bodies-“

“Okay! I’m taking the marshmallow scented shower gel!” Steph waited for a few seconds before she heard Pete speak, even if his tone was strained with reluctance. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“Told ya.”

“It does smell good.”

“Once again proving you that I’m right literally all the time. Pink doesn’t always equal feminine, and I’m right!”

“Yeah, just don’t say that round Ruth. She’ll growl at you or something weird like that.”

She laughed, flipping the shower off, grabbing her towel out of her bag. “I’ll wait in here til you’re done, and then pass my shower gel back to me out here, okay?”

“Alright.”

Steph got herself dry and back into her clothes then exited the shower, shampoo and conditioner placed back in a plastic bag, which sat inside her rucksack. As promised, she waited for Pete and, after seeing him, took her shower gel back. “I think a thank you is in order, Mister Spankoffski. I just saved your ass with the power of pink.”

“Look. I am not afraid to say I was wrong. I’m not exactly like my brother.”

She zipped up her bag, putting it on her bag. “You okay?”

“As well as I can be…a little nervous over the fact that Max claimed to have seen the literal Axe Man but…”

“But…it’s still Max Jagerman. He…he literally said that he was working for the Metzgers…he coulda staged that photo!”

Pete looked down to his girlfriend, running a hand through his hair. “Steph….there was an axe in the middle of Gabe’s head…I don’t think that was a set-up.”

“Well, I mean, there’s still gotta be some explanation for it? Right? There’s always an explanation for everything, you’re the scientific one out of both us! You’re the one trying to prove a reasonable explanation!” She asked, looking up to Pete.

He went to reply, went to tell her that there was no point arguing against it, that The Axe Man was real and that they shouldn’t be risking anything. However, his words were stolen from him for. There was the cracking of wood causing for both he and Steph to flinch. Through the door of the cubicle Steph had been in, it was very clear that if she’d have taken any longer that the blade of the axe currently sticking through the back wall would’ve splintered her spine.

With both of their eyes on the blade, they watched as it was retracted leaving nothing but a very thin hole. Then, the axe swung again, and again, and again, until a reasonably sized hole stood in the place where Steph could’ve been. That was all Pete could think as he pulled Steph into his arms. He noticed she didn’t resist. That was unlike her. Usually, it’d be holding him in her arms, her protecting him, but she made no move in arguing against him holding her. He understood why, though. Fear was more than easy to overtake the human mind, and right now, if Pete was correct, they were both thinking the same thing. Except, there was no way for him to confirm or deny it. He was frozen, as was she, and there was a cold breeze floating through the boys’ bathroom.

After an agonisingly long wait, the axe finally got pulled away from where it was stuck in the cabin, and there was a deep, distorted laugh that followed. All of a sudden, The Axe Man leant down, and Steph physically jumped. There, filling the gap he’d left, was the legend himself. Lumberaxe. Lumberaxe, in all his pale glory. Though they could only see his eye, his sharp, neon-blue eye through the hole, Pete was able to see other features as well. How his curled, silvery-blue hair was falling into his eyes. Additionally, Peter was able to see how his veins were blue, bulging out of his face, enlarged by the fact his grin was, quite literally, stretching his face open.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Just stayed there, his face pressed like putty into the hole he’d left. Then, his eye moved, creasing. He was smirking. Pete just knew he was smirking. Then, they got to hear the legend speak truth. “Sinners. Dirty, dirty sinners.”

Lumberaxe pulled away and another crack sounded. It was then Steph grabbed Pete’s hand, dragging him to the other end of the washroom. She fumbled with the door, doing her best to get it open. “Oh, we’re fucked!”

“We’re so fucked!” Pete said, gripping on to her hand, head looking over his shoulder to watch out for The Axe Man.

“We are so, completely and utterly-“

Pete turned back around as soon as she got the door open, and there, in front of them, was none other than both Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri but their annoying henchwoman, Grace Chasity.

“Fuck!” Steph shouted. “Look, we’ve got a situation going on in here and we would appreciate it if-“

“If a boy and a girl showering in the same washroom would be punished accordingly.” Grace said, folding her arms, a proud grin on her face. “I told ya, Boy Jerry! I told ya!”

Jerry folded his arms, tutting. “A boy and a girl! Showering at the same time…and only one stall apart?!” He grabbed Pete’s arm, dragging him from the washroom. “That is sick, Peter! Now what are we supposed to do with you?! And you as well, Miss Lauter! This is your second strike! What are we meant to do with you when you will not abide by the laws of He who formed us?!”

“…nothing? Because we’re consenting adults? And we weren’t even gonna do that anyway! I didn’t wanna get a UTI! It’s not my fault that Grace is a nerdy little-“

“Oh, goodness.” Girl Jeri said, looking Steph up and down. “She’s worse than we thought, Boy Jerry. She truly is a lost cause! Don’t let modern medicine fool you, Stephanie. UTIs don’t exist.”

“That’s not even…what?” She asked, looking at Girl Jeri. “UTIs most definitely do exist.”

“It doesn’t matter if they do or they do not. Our main issue right now is the fact that a girl and a boy were found showering a stall apart from each other! That’s basically leaving no room to even breathe!” Boy Jerry shook his head. “Girl Jeri?”

“Yes, Boy Jerry?”

“Would you do me the honours of taking Steph to her bunk and…locking her in?”

“What?!” Both Steph and Pete said in unison.

Grace looked up to Boy Jerry, heartbreak in her eyes. “But…but Boy Jerry! If they’re locked up, how will they even learn from their mistakes!”

“I’m afraid, Grace, that not even Jesus can help these two…” He turned back to Girl Jeri. “Take Miss Lauter away.”

“Yes, Boy Jerry.” She said, holding Steph’s wrists behind her back, forcing her to walk forwards, away from Peter.

With Steph now gone, Jerry turned his full attention to Pete, Grace a long lost thought. “And as for you, Peter…you’re trash. Just like your brother, and you will serve the same punishment that he did when he was here. You will serve your time exactly how he did. Solitary confinent for the rest of the summer! And, just like your brother, you’ll never escape.” With a laugh, Jerry escorted Pete back to his cabin leaving Grace Chasity, there, alone.

She blinked, allowing her to process what had just happened. A good deed she had done in the name of the lord had resulted in solitary confinement for what seemed to be the indefinite future. No. That was not what she stood for. Dang it, Chasity! Why could she not have kept her mouth shut just that once? Maybe Steph was honest when she said she was only going to shower. Maybe, just maybe. If only The Axe Man were real, she thought to herself. Then any evidence of destruction would allow her to see the truth.

Something inside the bathroom caught her eye. A blur of something grey, something perhaps quite blue. Her eyes locked on to chipped wood, and her heart began to race. She did not dare to step in to the cabin. That was sin. Instead, she very slowly walked her way around the cabin where she gasped. Hands now covering her mouth from shock, she could see what, quite clearly, was a hole in the back of the cabin that could’ve only been formed with an axe. The splintering, the lines…it all added up.

Oh heck. Pete and Steph were sinners.

She always knew it. Always knew it was wrong for someone like Peter Spankoffski to hang around with someone like Stephanie Lauter. He was a nerd. She was Stephanie Lauter. The one thing they both had in common, though, was that of their sexual nature. He was a Spankoffski. She had dated Max Jagerman. Of course they were dirty…not that Grace was jealous of Steph for dating Max or anything. No. Because why would she be? He was Max Jagerman. He was a dirty dude. She was Grace Chasity. Innocent, pure and clean. Steph having dated Max in the past did not bother Grace. Her dating Max had not led Grace to think about what they could’ve done in Max’s bedroom which had troubled her so badly that she went and tipped Steph off to her father so she’d be able to attend Abstinence Camp. So she’d be able to receive the assistance she needed. All of this because Grace had wanted to help Steph, definitely not because Grace liked Max Jagerman.

Absolutely not.

Leaning on the other side of the gap stood one crop-top wearing Metzger apprentice, or so he claimed. Running a hand through that blond hair of his, Max Jagerman shot Grace a smirk. “What are ya doin’?!”

She jumped. “For goshness sake’s, Max!”

He giggled. “What!”

“You can’t just do that! You can’t sneak up on an innocent, naïve girl!”

“No…but I just did.” He looked at the damage to the boys’ cabin. “Damn. I wonder who did that.”

“Someone with an axe…the Axe Man…”

Max whistled through his teeth. “Well, I’ll sure be damned, Gracie…ya think The Axe Man did this?”

“Peter Spankoffski and Stephanie Lauter were showering together…one stall over from each other and all of a sudden the boys’ cabin has a gaping hole through it! Someone pounded into this and ripped a brand new hole right through the cabin! And the wood’s all wet and I’m surprised nobody got hurt!”

“I know. If someone tore a hole through me, I’d be the one hurting…” Max clicked his tongue. “You should report this to the higher ups, Grace. To your councillors and whatever.”

“You’re right! I shall…but the last time I did that, they put Steph and Pete in solitary confinement. How will they ever listen if they are trapped away! How will they ever let The Lord into their hearts?!”

“Oh, I don’t know…I’m sure they’d find a way.” He looked down at her. “Why are you even here anyway?”

“Uh, because it’s fun! Abstinence Camp is the best place on Earth.”

“…really? You think that this shithole is the best place on Earth?”

She gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth again. “You can’t say swear words here! The Axe Man, he’ll hear you! He doesn’t like sinners, Max! No one likes sinners!”

“Oh, come on, Grace! You’re literally breaking my balls!” He folded his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not all bad, defying the rules. It’s quite fun, actually, so I’d say…or so I’d know. I mean, you’re not subtle, Grace. I know what you’re thinking, more specifically how you think.”

Grace looked away from him. “I am clueless as to what you mean.”

“Oh really?” He moved closer, barely leaving room for Jesus between them. “So…you don’t think about me? No?”

“Why would I ever think about you? There’s no reason for me to think about a disgusting dude like you.”

“That wasn’t what you were thinking about in the shower this morning, Gracie. You’re not too good at being quiet.”

Grace’s face went red. Damn these wandering hands. “I do not know what you are referring to.”

“So you weren’t thinking about me in the shower this morning, no?”

“Of course I wasn’t. There’s only one man to capture my heart, and aside from my dad, it’s Jesus Christ.”

Max nodded. “Mhmm, sure…but I think you’re lying to me.”

“I do not lie. It’s sinful.”

“Come on. Tell me the truth then, dirty girl.”

Grace tensed. “Do not call me that, Max.”

“But that’s what you are, isn’t it? My little…dirty girl.” He smirked. Reaching out, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Don’t think you’re innocent either, Gracie. The Axe Man knows what you’ve done.”

“Lumberaxe had better be prepared then. He won’t be the one coming for me, I’ll be the one coming for him-“

Max did not bother to hide his laughter. “You really are a dirty girl, aren’t you, Grace? It’s best if you don’t hide it, you know? If you learn to accept it, it’ll be easier for you in the long term. I mean…we could be one killer couple.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of something like that. Not even in a million years.”

“Hmm. That’s not what you were saying this morning.” He tapped the wood next to him. “Get this reported. I’ll see ya round, Chasity. And watch out for Lumberaxe!”

“I won’t be calling you for help if I ever encounter him!”

“Oh don’t worry! I know!” Turning his back to her, Max Jagerman stepped round the corner of the cabin, swinging his axe back over his shoulder. “You’ll be screaming outta pain or pleasure, though.” He told himself, walking directly back into The Witchwood forest, the calling of another man’s crimes summoning him elsewhere.

Girl Jeri shut the door to the cabin of Stephanie Lauter’s bunk, bolting it shut. Once she made sure there was no way that Steph would be able to escape, she looked up to Boy Jerry, arms folded. “She said that she’ll escape the cabin when Grace and Mary return to this bunk tonight.”

“Hmm. She will have to be closely monitored then, to ensure that that does not happen.” Jerry folded his arms. “Peter, on the other hand, was trying to tell me that the Axe Man was real!”

Girl Jeri laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. I think they might’ve seen someone with an axe along the borders. I mean, it’s the land of the Hatchet Men, they’re bound to be around. But Lumberaxe is not real. I mean, I know we pressure the kids into celibacy, and as we should! Sex is not fun!”

Jerry shook his head. “Not fun at all. You are so right, Girl Jeri.”

“Yes. We should pressure kids into celibacy because sex is disgusting and leaves you with children you cannot even take care of and when they get old enough to start going to school, they will be exposed to all different kinds of hatred and then what will happen when Little Jerie comes home!? Maybe he will have a girlfriend!? Maybe he will have a boyfriend!”

“Shh, shh, Girl Jeri.” Boy Jerry said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “If Little Jerie comes home with a boyfriend, we will love and support him unconditionally unless he chooses to have sexual relations with this person!”

“And then he will go to Hell!” Jeri fell to her knees. “My little boy who was born in the woods! Whatever will we do when he gets old enough to be interested in other people?! I mean, am I not good enough for him?! I am his mother! I am the only woman he should ever need to love, and Jesus Christ should be the only man!”

Jerry joined her on the floor, gently brushing her hair from her face. “You’re right, Girl Jeri, and we will teach Little Jerie the lesson that all generations before us learnt. He will not suffice to the social norm.”

“He had better not.” Weeping, she looked up to her counsellor partner. “Hold me, Boy Jerry!”

“As you wish, Girl Jeri.” He let her fall back into his arms, his thoughts slowly drifting away from the thought of their son dating to the main point. “…Miss Lauter truly believes that The Axe Man is real?”

“Yes! She said that he tried to break down the boys’ washroom cabin!”

“I suppose there is only one way that we’re going to be able to find this out, isn’t there? We will have to go and investigate.”

Girl Jeri made a gargled noise. “Just because you’re a journalist outside of being a summer camp counsellor doesn’t mean you have to drag your politician self into our safe space. Leave Journalist Jerry to the outskirts of the woods. Let Boy Jerry stay.”

“…but on the body of Gabe Kilten, there were slash marks which would match up with that of an axe’s blade-“

“I said leave Journalist Jerry out of our safe space, Jerry!”

Jerry nodded. Upsetting Girl Jeri more would do none of them favours, and the last thing he wanted was to upset his beloved. He kept his thoughts quiet instead of thinking out loud. He had buried the body of Gabriel Kilten in the Witchwood about an hour ago. He had seen the slash marks. Whoever had peeled off his skin had done it with precision, Jerry would give them that credit, but they did not hide the cuts into the muscle. There were lines, lines that could only be made from a specific kind of blade. An axe’s blade. An axe, that would belong to a sex-despising cryptid. Oh goodness. Lumberaxe was real…and now, it had to be Jerry’s job to protect these kids from the wrath of a rebellion-hating monster.

“I still think it is worth being extra safe. Keeping alert. Is that alright with you, Girl Jeri?”

“I suppose so, Boy Jerry…” She wiped running mascara off her face. “At least safety is something we are good at.”

“Safety is something we are very good at…and I will continue to keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

“Yes. Be our big strong man, Boy Jerry.”

“Don’t you worry, Girl Jeri. I will protect you. I will protect everyone here. No one else will lose their lives to the likes of The Axe Man.”

“He isn’t real, Boy Jerry!”

On the inside of the cabin, Steph Lauter heard Boy Jerry sigh, hearing the senior counsellor’s conversations spiral, looping back to the beginning once more. So, Boy Jerry was a journalist. Huh. Maybe she’d ask her dad about that, see if he worked for The Gazette or something. If so, maybe she’d be able to expose Abstinence Camp. It was stupid. The entire prospect of Abstinence Camp was stupid. Hey, maybe, just to get her own way, she’d pull the dead mom card. That usually worked.

Descending into madness at the sound of Girl Jeri becoming increasingly annoyed by the fact that Boy Jerry worked as a journalist, Steph became aware of the most obvious escape route. The window, which was open to prevent the humidity from killing them. That would be the most obvious answer. Jerry and Jeri clearly hadn’t bothered to lock it up because that would literally be torture. With a smirk, she slipped back into her sneakers and, after grabbing another handful of chocolates for Pete, slipped out the window.

She landed on the grass with a gentle thud, but nothing loud enough for Jerry or Jeri to notice. So, she did what any rebellious teenager would do, and that was walk off. It was what she did when she got grounded at home anyway. She’d sneak out. She’d be back by that evening anyway. They wouldn’t even notice she’d left.

With a gentle hum, Steph made her way over to the boys’ bunks and did her best to locate Pete’s. While she was doing so, she unintentionally listened in to someone else’s conversation, and her skin prickled.

From a short while away, hidden behind a tree, Noah Adams spoke. “Okay…we’re alone now, Mary. How…how far did you wanna take this?”

A shy confidence to Mary’s voice made Steph abort all other plans. She didn’t want to listen to this conversation…but when else would she get to listen to the poorest attempt at flirting between two hardcore Christians? “I don’t know, Noah. Maybe we could try some…some over the clothes stuff?”

“Are you sure that we’re ready for that?” Noah asked her. “I mean, we are only 18, and the abstinence pamphlet does still say that touching a woman’s breasts above clothes results in boils and-“

“I am ready. As long as it’s with you Noah…I want my first time to be special.” There was a gentle pause. “I don’t think there’s anything more special than Witchwood forest. I always get that feeling when I come here. Peace. Serenity…quiet. Besides, it’s the Witchwoods. Who’s gonna find us here anyway?”

“You’re right, Mary…” Steph heard Noah huff out a breath. “Alright, Mary. I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“And in turn, I shall open my mouth.”

Steph watched as Mary fell back on to a pile of leaves, Noah on top of her and covered her eyes with her hand. Through the gap between two fingers, though, she watched as they pathetically attempted kissing. It looked similar to that of a fish on dry land, flopping around as it painfully died.

“Oh, you’re a great kisser, Noah.”

“Y-You think so?”

“Oh, I know so.” Mary nudged him so she could sit back up, and there, she grasped at her shirt. “Alright…I’m gonna take my shirt off now, okay? Don’t let it blow your mind.”

There, in Steph Lauter’s direct vision, she watched as another figure formed, and she could feel the chilling breeze around, just like she had done in the cabin.

“Oh, I don’t think his mind blowing up’ll be an issue, Mary Michaels…you shoulda asked him not to lose it, though. It woulda…been more appropriate.”

A sharp zing sounded, then a thud, and Steph watched as the freshly decapitated head of Noah Adams rolled away from the tree, stopping in the middle of the grass. Steph did not heave, did not make a sound, but found herself biting on the fabric of her shirt anyway, possibly to silence her breathing. She looked down. Noah’s dead body now lay slumped down on the leaves. She could see the bone of his spine sticking out, white and a shattered stump. Blood spurted on to the trees and surrounding areas like some sort of fucked up fountain. On the grass was a trail of red leading to Noah’s head. He wasn’t facing her, thank God, but by the way he was facing, Steph looked back over. As she’d thought, his decapitated head was directly in the eyesight of Mary Michaels, who’s face was now splattered with the blood of her potential lover.

She screamed, did Mary. Screamed a single, sharp sound that was soon cut off by a singular, transparent finger.

Steph watched as Mary’s eyes looked up to Noah’s murderer, watched as the life drained from her eyes before she was even killed. She knew her eyes were not deceiving her. She knew exactly what she was seeing. She’d seen some weird shit in her 17 years of life, but she had not in a million years expected something like that to be what her father referred to when he said the town had secrets. That was no Axe Man. That was an Axe Monster. An Axe Monster who, to the best of her ability to describe, Steph would say was a cross between a ghost and a zombie. A ghostly zombie who also happened to take on the form of Maxwell Jagerman.

Max’s head was hunched forward, his posture worse than it was in his living form. Could she even say that? Max was alive, she had seen him alive when he had told her about Gabe, but he was there, standing before Mary Michaels, and he did not look living. His skin was a blanket of white which, when the sun hit it, was as translucent as a stained glass window. His eyes were sunken into his head but they were undeniably blue, the same blue she had seen staring at her through the hole in the washroom. There were blue veins, almost neon in colour, on his neck and temple that looked more like vines than anything. His hair no longer blond but a silvery-blue, a colour that’d align with the rest of his palette. The rest of his palette being what Steph had seen him in since she’d attended camp. That blue Virginity Rocks! shirt and black shorts with the white stripe down the side that left little to the imagination. He was coated with cobwebs, and not even Steph could deny seeing that bloodied stain on his chest, now a deep red (almost black) in colour. There, it all came to fruition.

Maxwell Jagerman had become impaled on the swan fountain in the centre of The Lakeside Mall, and that stain was in the exact same place he’d have been pierced.

Regardless of if this was the same Max Jagerman who had informed her and Pete about Gabe Kilten’s death, there was no denying that that was Max. This Max, however, was armed with an axe and some sort of additional power that she was struggling to place her finger on. A power, which had granted him the ability of The Axe Man.

Oh shit. He wasn’t granted the ability of The Axe Man. He was The Axe Man.

With a sick cackle, Max drew his fist back, punching it straight into Mary Michaels’ chest. All Steph heard was a pained groan, and then nothing. She knew she needed to get away. She did not want to stay around to be his next victim.

Pete. She needed to get to Pete.

She pushed her legs to keep going. Holding on to the cabin, she ran around to the door, where she knocked furiously. “Peter?!” She hissed in a whisper. “You lucky bastard! They didn’t lock your cabin!”

“Steph?!” Pete asked from inside, voice startled.

“Yeah! I snuck out the window cuz they looked the door to my cabin! Why don’t you get to be locked up?!”

“Boy Jerry said he’d be back with the stuff but he just…never came back…are you okay? I’ve just heard some noises and-“

“Shh! Just open the door, we gotta talk!”

She heard his footsteps run to the door and, like she’d said, he opened it. “Are you okay?”

Steph opened her mouth, went to tell him exactly what she’d seen…and then all she could see was green.

On to her knees she fell, digging her fingernails into her scalp as her palms covered her ears. She could tell she was crying out in pain, but she couldn’t exactly register it. All she heard was a high pitched ringing and all she could see was a sickly shade of green. Pete’s hand was on her back, she could feel that, but she couldn’t see him. Gritting her teeth, she did her best to hold on. This was not the time for this. The last thing she needed was Wiggog Y’Wrath taking over to toy with her…but no matter how strong she believed she was, there was no holding back against a literal eldritch deity.

Down she could feel herself falling. Down, down, down and slowly, that green faded to black even if it was terrifyingly slow. Then, she could feel herself hit ground and a thin layer of wet lapped at her shoes. She turned to her left. One image. The Hatchetfield Honey Festival. She recognised it from Main Street, from the black, yellow and blue booths accompanied by the lanterns hung up on the lampposts. She turned to face directly in front of her. She was viewing a black and white foyer of a very lavish mansion from what she could tell. In fact, it almost looked similar to her home, but it wasn’t quite. There was something off about it that she couldn’t quite depict. She turned to her right. There was no image, like there was, but a sound. Four gunshots, and four accompanying screams.

Wiggog Y’Wrath seemed to be pleased with her doing, for she opened her eyes with a harsh splutter following suit. They were sat on the floor of the cabin, of Peter’s cabin, the door now closed. Good. Safer for both of them, she thought. She’d hate for that monster to get to him too.

“Steph? You back?” Pete asked.

Cautiously, Steph nodded. “I-…yeah, I’m back…you got water?”

“Uh, yes, I do.” He stood up, a rustle of something sounding as he set an object down.

Steph’s eyes did not follow him as he went to fetch water, but focused on the object in question. “…Pete, why the hell do you have a porn magazine?”

“Uh! Well, I was in the bathroom, and there was like, a loose panel in the wall, and I pulled it back and I found it and it’s got Ted’s name in the cover and…” Usually, she’d tease him about the fact he was clearly blushing, but she had no time for that. Neither did Pete, and he caught on. With a water bottle acquired, he sat down next to her, letting her sip from it. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

“Because of the migraine or…?”

“Something else. Uh, just to get it over and done with, it was like…a vision? Of The Honey Festival, of a mansion and then gunshots. But that’s not…that’s not the issue here.” She looked back up to him, fear in her eyes. “Peter…Max Jagerman’s The Axe Man, and he’s just claimed his next two victims.”

Chapter Text

Easily, Peter could’ve laughed at what his girlfriend was telling him. Max Jagerman being the legendary Lumberaxe seemed to be as far from the truth as it could possibly get. Then again, who was he to comment? He had endured an alien apocalypse after becoming an accidental favourite of whatever sick bastard controlled the narrative in that timeline and fallen through a pocket between space, time and all dimensions. Literally, who was he to speak? He was nothing when it came down to the topic of conversation at hand, but Max Jagerman? Being The Axe Man? He certainly wasn’t calling Steph a liar, under no circumstance was that option even on the table, but he was a little confused as to why that would even happen. Why was the quarterback for the Hatchetfield Nighthawks hanging out in the woods? And why did Max suddenly want to murder a bunch of kids who willingly went to Abstinence Camp for the summer?

Like a lightning bolt, he was struck with the memory of important information Max had told them incredibly recently. How he was, supposedly, under an apprenticeship with Bob Metzger. To defend The Witchwood by training as a member of the Hatchet Men. It not only would give him a flawless alias, but it’d give Max free reign to carry an axe with him no matter where he went and-oh shit. Max Jagerman was The Axe Man.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Steph said, taking Pete’s hand. “It sounds crazy. And you’re right, it is crazy. But-but I saw him. I saw him, out there, interrupting a very strange make-out session between Mary Michaels and Noah Adams and then…he literally just materialised in front of my very eyes. Like, he just appeared. Except, he wasn’t Max. Not really. He was the guy we saw in the washroom earlier but Pete…he was very much dead.”

“What?!” He looked down at her. Since starting testosterone, he’d adapted to most of the changes, but the one he didn’t think he’d ever get used to was being taller than her. He always used to look up at her. She’d always been the tallest one out of the two of them, and now all of a sudden he was the taller out of the two of them? And he thought testosterone didn’t affect bone growth. Either science was wrong (which it never was) or he was suddenly an entirely different person. Ergh. He hated being tall. “Like, dead dead?”

She nodded. “He was translucent, he was shimmery, like Edward out of Twilight- shit, that was such a stupid comparison and-“ An exasperated sigh cut Steph off. “I literally don’t care. But what matters, Peter, is that he was as dead as Mary and Noah.”

Pete let himself process that information, and when it did, he looked to the window, where he was sitting on the floor. “…wait, Mary and Noah are dead?”

“Noah, he-Mary and Noah, they were gonna lose their virginity and it was gross. I didn’t mean to watch but- you know when you don’t really wanna watch but something is so disgusting that you literally can’t look away?”

“Boy, do I know it.”

“Yeah, so it was that. I wasn’t being a perv.”

“I know you weren’t. You’d never.”

“Okay. And now that’s out the way…Noah’s now headless and Mary…I don’t even know what happened to Mary. But they’re gone. They’re gone, and seemingly, so is Max.”

“But we’ve seen Max this summer. He’s alive, he’s been apprenticing for Bob Metzger, or so he said. I can now see that was a very clear coverup for him being The Axe Man, enabling for him to commit significant crimes without getting caught but…he was translucent?”

“Like a ghost…and not only that, Pete, he was…there was a blood stain. On his shirt. In the exact same location he got impaled on.”

“…what?”

“Either…either we’re, once again, dealing with The Lords In Black, not like I ever stopped…or Max can crossover too. He’s just really fucking good at hiding his real form.”

“Real form as in…you think he’s…trans-dimensional? You think him dying last time has somehow carried over to this timeline?”

“No, Pete. It’d be ridiculous if that was the case. If it were, he’d have fallen like we did, and it was only us who fell. Pete, he didn’t fall through the surface of the earth like we did but…but I really wanna say he was a hallucination, something Wiggly was using to fuck with me, but that’s not what my gut is telling me. My gut is telling me that there is something seriously wrong with this whole situation.” She sighed. “He seemed so real though, and I know full well I didn’t hallucinate Mary or Noah dying. They were bleeding. They were lifeless. They were-“

“Oh, shit, footsteps.” Pete said, helping Steph to her feet. “Quick, Steph, hide yourself under my bed.”

“What?!”

“Just do it!”

“Am I even gonna fit under there?”

“At least try and if it don’t work, get in the closet!”

So, without another question, Steph found herself shuffling under Pete Spankoffski’s temporary bed as those footsteps he’d mentioned came closer and closer. Steph knew that whoever was on the other side of the door wouldn’t be able to hear her breathing, and yet, she still held her breath. Now, all she could hope was that Pete put his poor ability to lie to better use and at least made it seem convincing that she wasn’t in there.

Taking deep breaths himself, Pete opened the door right as the person on the other side went to knock. He sighed, partially out of relief but also out of annoyance. “What do ya want, Grace?”

There Grace Chasity stood, in all her glory, hand still held up in a closed fist. Awkwardly, she lowered it. “I would like to…formally apologise. For what I did. Which has landed both you and Steph in solitary confinement. You know, I have already tried to apologise to Steph but she was being miserable on her bunk and refused to speak to me. But it’s okay. I deserve it. But you do not deserve solitary confinement and…” Grace looked down to the floor. “Peter. Why is there a pornography magazine in your bunk?”

“Oh. I found it in the wall. It’s got my brother’s name in the cover.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“You’ve got no choice, cuz that’s the truth.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not surprised that Steph won’t talk to you. She was literally just showering. We haven’t done anything sexual. The closest we’ve come to touching each other is her lending me her shower gel because I didn’t want to use the bar of soap.”

She crinkled her nose up. “Hmm. Well. I suppose I can once again try bargaining with Girl Jeri and Boy Jerry but they would not hear me out the first time…I wonder what they would do if I gave them the evidence. That you’re actually…trying to let the lord into your heart!”

“Oh no, trust me, we are not doing that.”

“Of course you are, though! You’ve made my life a living heck ever since Steph got pregnant because-“

“How many times, Grace?! Steph can’t get pregnant, at least not from me! I don’t have a dick!”

“Don’t be stupid, Peter. You’re a boy.”

“Okay, as much as I appreciate the fact you think I pass well and the fact you’re respecting my gender identity, I am a transgender male! I was born female, I’m in the process of transitioning to male! And even if I wanted to get Steph pregnant, if I ever get bottom surgery, it wouldn’t work anyway because I literally won’t be able to produce semen! So no! Me and Steph are not going to have a kid together, and I know Steph hasn’t cheated on me because she isn’t pregnant!”

Grace looked down. “Peter. You have a penis. I can see it through your pants.”

“Yeah. It’s called a packer. It’s-it’s a fake dick trans guys use to pass better.”

“Ain’t you ever heard of the famous transgender squirrel on the island? Penis The Hatchetfield Packer Squirrel, cousin to Peanuts?!” A muffled voice suddenly shouted out from underneath Pete’s bed.

“Steph?!” Pete said, looking back over his shoulder as Grace tilted her head, peering into the cabin.

“…I’m not pregnant, Grace!” Steph decided to shout next, seeing that as the only logical way to salvage that situation.

Immediately, Grace gasped and Pete shut his eyes, pursing his lips to stop himself from saying anything stupid. “Look, Grace, I know how that sounded!”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “Oh. No. I know what that was. No wonder Steph wouldn’t speak to me. Because she was in here, committing sin. With you.” With a crack of her knuckles, she turned around, speed walking away.

“Where are you even going?!” Pete shouted to her.

“To Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri! You’re both sinners!”

“What are they gonna do though?! We’re both already in solitary confinement for the rest of the summer!”

“They’ll do somethin’, I’m sure!” Grace shouted and with that, broke out into a full sprint.

Pete shut the door, turning around to face Steph. “Well, so much for that plan, Steph.”

“Yeah, what the fuck.” Steph tried to wriggle her way out from Pete’s bed, helplessly holding her arm out. “Babe. I’m stuck.”

“…need help?”

“Pleeeeease-“

He crouched own, grabbing her hands, gently pulling her out from underneath his bed. “Better?”

“Yeah, I think so. And literally, what the fuck is Grace even gonna do? What’s worse than solitary confinement anyway?” She asked as she sat herself down on Pete’s bed.

He joined her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder. Holding her close, he diverted conversation, asking her, “how’s your head?”

She shrugged. “I still feel a little distant, a little disconnected and frankly, I’m terrified for what that vision meant. A lavish mansion, four gunshots, a red splatter and The Honey Festival…like does it mean that there’s a murderer at The Honey Festival? Or does it mean that someone in attendance gets murdered? Or does it mean the murderer is just really fucking rich? It wasn’t my home, but it kinda looked like it so unless Solomon’s renovated the entire thing in the couple days we’ve been here, I highly doubt I’m actually involved in this.”

“Hoping for your sake that you are not involved with anything including lavish mansions, The Honey Festival or gunshots.”

“I am also very much hoping for my sake that I’m not tangled up in another one of the island’s shitty messes…I know I’m my father’s daughter and all but what if I just…don’t wanna be involved in anything abnormal anymore.”

“Steph…we fell through the fabric of reality.”

“…shit, we did do that, didn’t we?”

“I don’t think we get a choice in if we want to deal with this or not. I think terror is attracted to us and, genuinely, I think we’re just a horror magnet.”

“Oh, yay for us.” She sighed, nuzzling into him. “Why us, Pete? Why is it always us?”

He could already feel himself going red. As a Spankoffski, it seemed to be in his DNA that whenever shown affection that it was impossible for him not to blush. Wrapping his other arm around her, he let her lean into his chest. “I don’t know for sure, Steph, but I think it’s because we’re normal abnormalities.”

“Nerd.”

He couldn’t help smiling. It was only acceptable when she called him that. She did it endearingly, unlike Max Jagerman, who did it with punches to punctuate. “Seriously. For both of our sake’s, I hope Hatchetfield sorts itself out soon. I think we deserve a fucking break more than anyone, and I won’t stop until we get that.”

“How noble.”

“I’m being serious! I’m not gonna stop trying to fix this mess until we get a fucking break! And you know what? That should really start with stopping Grace from snitching, but I’m kinda really enjoying this right now.”

“Yeah? Me too. So don’t fuckin’ think of moving a muscle.”

In the centre of the camp, though, stood both Girl and Boy Jerry, who also were not moving. They’d returned from completing their salvaging task of locking Pete and Steph away from the summer, now re-evaluating the situation with each other. Boy Jerry gave a brisk nod to his fellow counsellor, hands in his pockets. “Did Miss Lauter accept her punishment well, Girl Jeri?” He asked her, watching as she twirled one of her pigtails around her finger.

“Miss Lauter did accept her fate, but not without a fight.”

“Good…well, Mayor Lauter has requested that if anything were to occur with his daughter that I send him a…report.” He pointed to the cabin just to the side of the Arts and Crafts Pavilion. “To the office, Girl Jeri!”

“Of course, Boy Jerry.” She said, following him to their office, trailing behind him like a lost duckling.

Once close enough, he opened the door and went to step inside, but his senses detected something new that had not been there in his office that morning. There was a sharp dripping noise that had Jerry’s ears pricking up, and the scent of copper was strong in his nostrils. Slowly, Jerry picked his eyes up from the floor, looking at what had been kindly left for them. Like with Gabe, red now stained the floor, the wood now wet and weak under touch. On a bench, the very same one that Gabe had been found murdered on, were the disfigured, hacked off limbs of Mary Michaels and Noah Adams. Jerry was able to tell this because on top of the strategically placed body parts were their heads. There, Jerry stared into the eyes of the dead, witnessing their last emotions, which they’d be stuck as for eternity.

“Shoot.”

“What’s the matter, Boy Jerry?”

“We seem to be suffering with…a minor issue.”

“Like what?” She asked, peering her head around him for the stack of dead bodies to fill her eyesight. She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth as she shook her head. “…no. This ends now, Boy Jerry…I need to call the police!” She pushed past him, going to head to the phone hung up on the wall, but he grabbed her arm.

“Call the cops and tell them what?!” He said, closing the door behind them so nobody else would be able to hear. “How are you going to explain three dead bodies suddenly turning up missing, huh?! Blame it on Lumberaxe?!”

“I mean-“

“Lumberaxe was a figure my grandfather made up to scare the shoot out of me, Girl Jeri! He isn’t real! He never has been real and he never will be real! Okay!? And even if you did tell the cops, they’re gonna come in here and poke around. They’ll find out everything. Everything about us. About our past. About our home in the woods? About the boy!? And are you ready for that truth to be exposed to so many people, Girl Jeri?!”

“N-No, Boy Jerry.”

“Are you ready for the whole town to know exactly what you did…” He turned to look at her, a sudden darkness in his eyes. “…you dirty girl.”

“Don’t call me that, Boy Jerry!”

“But I have the receipts! I have to keep receipts on important information like this and you know it.” He hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. “Are you ready for the people of Hatchetfield to know what kind of a dirty girl you are? You’re disgustingly filthy, aren’t you, Girl Jeri?”

She gulped but nodded, wrapping her arms around his back. As her pink-coloured nails dug into his back, she stared into his deep, blue eyes. “Oh, yes, Boy Jerry…I-I’m a dirty girl…”

“Exactly, and you know what happens to dirty girls…they get punished. By the Lord.”

“Y-you’re right.”

“But right now…the Lord has two more dead bodies he needs to deal with, so if you will give me a second.” He let her go, turning around as Girl Jeri cleared her throat.

“I shall go and prepare the materials, Boy Jerry.”

“That’s a good girl.” He said, grabbing a trash bag from one of the drawers.

Jeri turned, opening the door, jumping at the sight of Grace Chasity. “Goodness, Grace! We didn’t know you were here!”

“Grace?” Boy Jerry asked, looking to the door. “Ah! There’s our favourite camper! What can we do you for, Grace?”

Grace looked up into Girl Jeri’s green eyes. “I have come to inform you about the fact that Stephanie Lauter has currently broken out of her cabin and is, instead, lying underneath Peter Spankoffski’s bed. Or, she was, when I left the cabin…why does it smell weird in here?”

“It’s Girl Jeri’s new perfume,” Boy Jerry told Grace without missing a beat.

“Air freshener!” Jeri hissed through her teeth.

“Yes! That is what I said! Girl Jeri’s new air freshening perfume!”

“Really? Girl Jeri smells like blood?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Girl Jeri gave a nervous laugh, but Grace knew better than to trust them.

She tilted her head, looking around Girl Jeri’s abdomen, her eyes widening. “…oh, heck.”

“Grace, it isn’t what it looks like!” Boy Jerry said at once. “We’re working on some new special effects! For our Halloween seasonal special!”

“B-But that’s-that’s Mary’s head! And Noah’s! And they’re…that’s Mary! And Noah! In pieces!”

“Grace, calm down okay, let’s just, uh, we’ll talk! Calm down and we can talk about this!” Girl Jeri tried, but Grace was already shaking her head.

“NOT ON MY WATCH!”

In an instant, Grace had turned, and she was sprinting away from the cabin. A growl forming in the back of Jerry’s throat, he turned to face Girl Jeri. “Oh, gosh darn! Just frickin’- go after her! We can’t let her tell anyone else about this or else camp will get closed and we will never be able to save these kids!”

“But-but the bodies, Boy Jerry!”

He opened up a black trash bag, snapping on some rubber gloves. “Don’t you worry about that, Girl Jeri. I’ve got this covered. Now it’s up to you to cover Miss Chasity.”

“Understood.”

Off Girl Jeri went, running under the sunsetting sky. Under clouds of pink and purple, she found herself chasing Grace Chasity directly into the Witchwoods. Her first thought was she hoped that Grace wasn’t going to get far enough to see the random cabin that her and Boy Jerry called home. That meant that she’d have to explain why there was a five year old child in there who looked suspiciously like both her and Boy Jerry. She may be a dirty girl indeed, but she was not prepared to let someone like Grace Chasity find that secret out. Her and Boy Jerry were the face of Abstinence Camp. If it was discovered they’d had a child out of wedlock then they would surely be shunned, barred from the church for disobeying The Lord. Oh, gosh, she could not handle that.

She picked herself up. Ran so fast that her thighs and ankles were burning. Ran so fast that she was holding her breath and every one she inhaled felt like a sharp intake. Even in the summer, there was a coldness to The Witchwood. Always had been and likely always would be. When she exhaled, she could see her breath lingering in the air. She would try to come up with an explanation for it, but what was the point? Nothing explainable ever occurred in The Witchwood. Except the birth of Little Jerie. That had been explainable, not that she wanted to expand on her original point. Nobody would ever find out about Little Jerie. Little Jerie was her and Boy Jerry’s dirty little secret.

“Grace!” Jeri shouted when close enough to Grace.

“Stay away from me!” Grace shouted back, a force to her voice that Jeri did not recognise.

She’d never taken Grace as the powerful type, but there was a lot about the Chasitys that Jeri did not know. Rumours about Karen in particular. Rumours about Mark and his past with a certain eclectic scientist. Rumours that were shut down due to the little evidence to back up any major claims. She hoped that, after tonight, if anyone were to expose what her and Boy Jerry once were, that those rumours would be shut down too. They had been foolish, and it had been a stupid mistake. One stupid mistake had led to another, and another, and now, she was done with making idiotic decisions.

This ended now.

Grace’s foot caught on a root, one of the thicker ones that was sticking out from under the leaves that never seemed to rot away. She cried out, trying to catch herself on the main body of the tree, but ended up toppling forward. It was a soft landing, for she fell directly on to the heap of half-decayed leaves. Grace’s reaction time was quicker than Girl Jeri expected, for Grace flipped on to her back and began scuttling away on all fours backwards.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Grace!” She said, holding her hands up in surrender just to prove it. “I want to help you! I am your camp counsellor! All I want to do is help you kids!”

“Mary and Noah are dead! I bet that’s what happened with Gabe as well, isn’t it?! He’s dead! And I bet you’re to blame! The Lord would not approve of this, Girl Jeri! Rot in Hell!”

“Trust me, Grace! Me and Boy Jerry are aware of this, but it is neither me or Boy Jerry murdering these children!”

“Then who is!”

“…that’s what we’ve been trying to figure out. But you see…The Witchwood, you know things grow differently in The Witchwood! You know that! The trees grow differently! Whatever dies in the Witchwood never truly dies, and you know that! Everyone on the island knows that! Everyone knows that whoever is born here, whoever dies here is born different! No human is stronger than the average!” She took another step, Grace continuing to shuffle backwards while she spoke. “We are not responsible for the people committing the murders here! I mean, we gave…we gave the most valuable possession that me and Boy Jerry both care for the axe to chop firewood when we were at work, but he’s five! He wouldn’t know what murder is!”

“What the frick are you trying to tell me?!” Grace asked, backing up until her head hit the bark of a tree. She hissed, rubbing the back of her hair.

“I’m trying to tell you, Grace, that there is a pestilent nature within these woods!” Girl Jeri said, taking another step closer to Grace. “A pestilent nature so demoralising that the people within it have re-emerged from the outskirts and have started killing the innocent! Started claiming the lives of those who come to us for sanctuary! But no! Now, if you escape here and tell the mainland, do you know what’ll happen?! Mass hysteria!”

“This is not what The Lord would want! The Lord would want you to help the people! The Lord would not want people to suffer because of your own selfishness!”

Girl Jeri’s eyes widened, and there was something swirling in her irises. “And do you know what’ll happen if you also take this to the mainland? The esurient journalists of Action News and The Gazette will be on us! Like lions! They starve for a good story, and when a quick buck comes around, they suddenly become greedy, indulging in avarice and-“

Grace suddenly felt herself tense, whispers filling her ears, a cold wind blowing through her hair. Her first instinct was to cover her ears, to ignore the voices, but then she heard what they were saying, and she knew Girl Jeri had done something catastrophic. On a loop, repeating to her, were five words.

Pestilent. Demoralise. Hysteria. Esurient. Avarice.

Slowly, Grace turned, and her eyes widened at what she was seeing. If only Grace hadn’t have been so naïve or so caught up in trying to escape the wrath of Girl Jeri. Then maybe she would notice that wasn’t an ordinary root she’d tripped on. After all, even in the depths of The Witchwood, the Metzgers made sure their trees were neat and tidy. They took care of the souls attached to the trees, not that they really had a choice. It was their job as Hatchet Men, to protect the souls of the deceased, of the souls claimed by them. It was their punishment, to deal with the darkness. Even with their experience, though, there was one tree that Bob Metzger refused to let the group touch or tend to. The tree Nighthawks furiously avoided no matter the cost. The tree that Timberwolves howled at on full moons. The very same tree Grace had accidentally stumbled upon.

The tree that towered over Grace appeared to be oldest one in the Witchwood. Its bark was so black that it was almost red and it was humongous. It was so large, in fact, that Grace did not doubt that it could be seen from the mainland, standing tall and proud above all other trees. On the end of bony, finger-like branches were half-rotted leaves, she originally thought, but allowed herself time for a closer inspection. Only then did she realise that the tree’s leaves, much like the ones that Grace currently sat on, were pitch black. Grace might know nothing about biology, but she knew that for a tree to grow black leaves was near enough impossible. As was what she saw when her eyes landed at the base of the tree. Bark peeled away from the trunk, scratching off the years that growth had succeeded but one area in particular remained untouched.

Five symbols were engraved permanently into that base, five symbols that looked to have been either carved by a child or drawn in white spray paint. Considering the rest of the tree was black, there was no reason for this one area to be white. Except, something caught her eye. How, not so nearby on one of the tree’s branches, she saw a tiny white spider, dancing around on a thin string of silk. It crawled around one of the branches before burying into the leaves, disappearing.

For good reason. Something was going down and Grace knew it. She felt the shift in the air.

The markings were something like Grace had never seen before. There were five blobs on the tree, but, as she stared at them, noticed as they began to shimmer. Positioned like a pentagram, the top point was that of a wave, beginning to glimmer green. The right point was a circle, beginning to shine purple. The bottom right point was a square beginning to glow gold. The bottom left point was a glittering blue star, and the left point was a gleaming pink leaf. Most curiously, though, there was a white crown in the middle, but it did not matter. Not now that Grace had dawned upon the wrath of The Lords.

Pestilent. Demoralise. Hysteria. Esurient. Avarice.

The star lit up first, a beam of blue light blasting itself from the bark. Then the purple circle. Then the yellow square, then the pink leaf, then the green wave and finally, the white crown.

There was a laugh all too familiar sticking in her mind, one that had her whipping around. The Witchwood was pitch black now, save for the light of the moon. It had her wondering how long she’d been out there for, but she’d think about that later. There were bigger issues at hand, and this one seemed to be the major one of them all. How, with the moon directly on him, there was a silhouette of a man standing directly behind Girl Jeri.

A man standing at 6’3 with glimmering silvery-blue hair and a grin that couldn’t be hidden even in darkness. Grace watched in horror as the figure lifted an axe above his shoulder, holding it high above his head.

“HEY!” He shouted, his voice partially echoing. Girl Jeri finally took her eyes off of Grace, turning around to face him, and his own eyes widened with mania as he noticed her reaction. “THE LORD DOESN’T LIKE LIARS, YOU FILTHY LITTLE BITCH!”

A crack sounded, and Grace blinked. When her eyes reopened, the darkness had gone and she was back to sitting under the purply-pink sky of Hatchetfield’s most recent sunset. There, in front of her, was Girl Jeri and The Axe Man, who currently had an axe in the centre of Girl Jeri’s skull. Grace just stared, watching as The Axe Man grabbed a hold of Jeri’s shoulder and, not removing his axe, pushed it down. Down, down, down. Blood spurted out as more cracks sounded. Veins protruded like split-ends. Muscle, brain matter and shards of bone flew everywhere as with every jagged thrust, more of Girl Jeri diminished. He reached the bottom half of her, and very slowly, Girl Jeri split in half. All Grace could do was sit there and watch. She had been watching as The Axe Man, quite literally, split Girl Jeri in half. Now, she was looking down at the dead body of her camp counsellor. Looking at each identical half. At the internal anatomy. It had been a clean cut, she’d give The Axe Man that, but blood fed the rotting leaves. Blood fed the rotting nature of The Witchwood. With another life claimed, the leaves of the tree above her rustled pleasingly, and Grace could only, hesitantly, draw her eyes away from the dead body of Girl Jeri to face her murderer. There, Grace stared up at the killer, who stared back at her with a sick grin on his face.

He was ghostly pale, no colour on his face. Had it not been for Girl Jeri’s blood sprayed all over him, she’d have thought he were dead. Proudly, he swung his axe back over his shoulder, watching as he tuck him in. A bloodied hand ran through silvery-blue hair curls, tainting them purple. “Hiya, Gracie. Do I get a thanks for saving your life.”

“What the heck did you just do?!”

“Saved your life and all. Y’know, she’d have killed you if I hadn’t have stepped in.”

“I didn’t need your help! I didn’t need your help, or anyone’s! I was fine out here alone and-!” Very suddenly, she cut herself off, looking at what he was wearing. “…Max Jagerman?”

“Yes, Gracie?”

“…what are you doing out here in The Witchwood of all places?! And wearing a Virginity Rocks!”

Temporarily, his smile dropped. "Oh shit. I'm not wearing it inside out." 

"You are not." 

"L-O-L." Max shrugged, crouching down, allowing that grin of his to return. “Well. Ya see…” He started, letting his axe rest against the bark of the same tree she was leaning against. “I’ve been keepin’ a couple secrets for you. And I think it’s finally time you know what the truth about The Axe Man really is.”

Chapter Text

The Axe Man. A character Grace had insisted Gabe Kilten had come up with to scare the newcomers of Abstinence Camp into remaining chaste. She’d never believed he was real. A man designed for the sake of making sure the youth stayed chaste? Yeah, she didn’t believe that for a second. Like herself, she didn’t need help staying chaste. It was basically her name, after all. She didn’t need that help because she believed in The Bible. If one believed in The Bible then there would be no issues. They wouldn’t need a story like The Axe Man to rely on  to persuade them to keep their virginity until marriage. That was why she never believed a word Gabe said. Everyone at Abstinence Camp believed in The Bible, and The Bible said they needed to keep their virginity until marriage. It was even on their shirt! Virginity Rocks! Yet, there he stood before her, in all his ghostly glory.

Maxwell Andrew Jagerman. The Axe Man of the Hatchetfield Witchwoods.

His bright blue gaze was intimidating, especially considering the fact the Max that Grace knew had hazel eyes. Why were his eyes blue now? Why did he look so…so…spirit like? Was he dead? Had Max Jagerman died? Of course he hadn’t. The only ghost that was real was The Holy Spirit, and Grace knew full well Max was not holy under any means. He was devilish. He was a sinner. But there he was, in front of her, wearing a blood-soaked Virginity Rocks! shirt, occupying a weapon. Occupying an axe.

Whatever would her father say when she returned home? It wasn’t even a week into Abstinence Camp and all of a sudden, three people were dead and she was, most definitely, losing her mind. Max Jagerman wasn’t dead. He wasn’t a ghost. Max would be back on the mainland getting drunk at some sort of party. He was the quarterback of the Hatchetfield Nighthawks. As far as she was concerned, that was what quarterbacks did. Get drunk at parties and have a lot of sex. Not that Grace cared about what Max did in his bedroom or who he had sex with. She definitely did not want to have sex with Max Jagerman. That was off the cards entirely. She didn’t want to know what else quarterbacks could possibly do. Quarterbacks were brutes filled with sin, lust and instilled fear in the people who unfortunately crossed their paths. Max was not exempt from that stereotype.

Grace knew Max. She knew how Max would flaunt his cocky energy to then push it back into the party scene. She knew that he would do whatever it took to catch the eye of the girl he liked that week. She knew that he was notorious for flick-it tickets, for shoving her classmates in lockers, for being an overall a-hole. She knew that. She knew that there had been multiple times her mind had crossed what he’d be doing at parties. Whether he’d be upstairs in Brenda Campbell’s bedroom with the cheer captain spread eagle on her bed. Whether the burning sensation in her gut was jealousy or anger towards the fact Max could be so pitifully awful. She could change him. She knew she could. On an average day, that was. This, however, did not seem like a party or an average day. Either he’d prepared for Halloween early…or he actually had something to say regarding the truths towards The Axe Man.

Goodness, her father would be disappointed in her. She could hear his voice now. “There’s only one ghost, Gracie! The Holy Spirit who resides in all of our hearts! But ghosts, phantoms and spirits aren’t real!” How badly she wanted to turn around to her father and cuss him out, tell him the truth…but just to prove she wasn’t actually going insane, she pushed her hand against his chest and, much to her surprise, felt it go right through him.

He was equally surprise she was able to do that, it seemed, for he fell backwards, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “Jesus, Grace! What the fuck was that for?!”

“…are you a ghost?”

“I’m somethin’, I’ll tell ya that!”

“Why did my hand just pass through you?”

“It didn’t. It passed through the hole in my chest, not through my physical abdomen.”

“The what?”

He pulled up the fabric, and Grace’s stomach turned. Not only because her eyes had caught a glimpse of his translucent abs, but how she could quite literally see right through him. Oh heck. She had just pushed her hand through a hole in his chest. “It was an unfortunate accident, I won’t lie. Heroic, though, and now I get to live the best sorta life.” He told her, letting his crop top fall.

“You have a hole in your chest! If you’re not dead, what are you?!”

He shrugged, kneeling back on the ground in front of her. “I’m hole-y.”

“That wasn’t funny.” She said.

“It’s okay to live in denial, Gracie. But one day you’re gonna come to terms with the fact I’m the funniest bitch on this island.”

Not wanting to linger on the disgusting topic of Max’s sickening illusion, she looked to the gore-covered axe. “…you just killed Girl Jeri.”

“To save you. You’re welcome, again.”

“I didn’t thank you for it.”

“No, but you should!”

“Look!” Grace said, pulling her knees to her chest. “What is this all about?! You show up at camp wearing a Virginity Rocks! shirt but your name is not on the rota. You’re wielding an axe, you killed Girl Jeri and you kneel here before me to tell me that you know the truth about Lumberaxe The Mad Woodsman?!” She paused, allowing herself to look back up at him, doing her best to make eye contact. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Gracie, Gracie. If you’d give me a moment of your time, I will very gladly tell you the truth, but ya gotta take a breath first.”

“There’s a dead body inches away from us.”

“And try to ignore that. She’s not relevant.”

“Max, you’re going to jail if anyone finds out!”

“It’s Hatchetfield, Grace. Don’t lie to yourself. No one’ll suspect a thing. People go missing every day. Girl Jeri just adds to that statistic!”

Looking down to her sneakers, she spoke again. “Then whatever is the truth, Max? What is going on with The Axe Man?”

His blue-tinted grin reformed on his face. “Well, my dirty girl, I’m glad ya finally fuckin’ asked! Now we’re back on track!” He cracked his knuckles and Grace noted the fact she could very clearly see his veins through his skin. As he rolled his shoulders back, he spoke again. “How do I put it bluntly? And where do I start?”

“…The beginning would be a good place to start.”

Max laughed. “Oh, but who’s beginning? Mine? Or Maxie’s?”

“You are making no sense-“

“How often do you think of the butterfly effect, Gracie?” He asked, those blue eyes locking with her brown ones. “About how the slightest change can create a defect in the timeline. How if something happens in our dimension, it could happen differently in another one. How, you might choose to eat a different kind of cereal for breakfast one day, and that change could be the difference between life or death. How the tiniest things can be the detonator for life altering consequences, sometimes life claiming…how often do ya think about it?”

“Hardly ever.” She told him confidently. “I believe that I was put on this world for a reason, and that the life I live will be the only one I live.”

“That is where we are one of the same. I thought that too. That the one life I would live, no matter what I would do, would be the one I was stuck with. The thought crossed my mind, about if I did certain things differently, that maybe I’d be fine. I’d live a different life…then maybe, if I hadn’t been such an asshole…I wouldn’t have lost Stephanie Lauter to Peter Spankoffski.”

“Oh, yeah, because you and Steph used to date and then she dumped you.”

With a rising cold anger to him, he let himself fall forward, the palm of his hand falling flat against the bark of the tree. He had Grace cornered now, and they both knew it. She was going nowhere. “But if I hadn’t have lost Steph, then I wouldn’t have had my eyes opened. If I hadn’t suffered, I wouldn’t know what I know now…I know the truth, Gracie.”

“The truth about what?” She asked, doing her best to pretend like she wasn’t cowering over Max Jagerman’s new form.

“About this town, for starters. And about you.”

“About me?!”

“I mean, Hatchetfield, it sure is a special place but you, Grace Mary Chasity…you’re the most special element within it.”

“…I am?”

“Oh, yes. Of course you are.” He held his other hand out to her. There were moments of stillness where nobody breathed and nobody moved. But, to his surprise, she took his hand and together, they stood. His hand placed on the tree wrapped around her back and slowly, he was speaking again. “I wanna give you everything you’ve ever desired. Ever deserved. I want to free you from the idea that heaven and hell are the only answers. That if you disobey the Lord, you’re destined to burn forever…it’s not the case, Grace. I mean, after all, I’ve met God, and he’d laugh in the face of people like you.”

“…you’ve met God?”

“All five of ‘em.”

“Huh?!”

“I know it seems confusing, I know, but I’ve met ‘em…and they seem to really like you.” He cupped Grace’s face. “Everything happens for a reason, right? It’s God’s Will?”

“Yes. Exactly! God’s Will!”

“So it was God who drew you to this tree right here.” He turned her around so she could look at it. “It’s no ordinary tree, Gracie. No ordinary sycamore, no ordinary willow…it’s attached to the souls harvested from the victims of The Hatchet Men. Of those born with different kinds of abilities slaughtered against their will. Of those who are abnormal, of those who stick out like a sore thumb…people like me.”

“You’re as normal as a guy can get, Max. You’re the quarterback and-“

“You have no idea what I went through to achieve my current status.” He ran his hand through her hair. “Friday the 29^th of November 2019, I drove Stephanie Lauter over to The Lakeside Mall to take her to go and see the dorky new Santa movie. While in The Cineplex, mass riots broke out over 2019’s hottest toy – the Tickle Me Wiggly. A doll, fit to become your bestest friendy-wend with a promise of mending the broken hearts of the adults. A promise to one, a promise to all...the only adult able to resist Wiggly’s calling, as far as I’m concerned… was Theodore Spankoffski.” A snarl edged on Max’s voice as he held Grace in closer. She did not resist. Yet. “That meant that Mayor Lauter was under the effect of the doll. Under the effect Wiggly had unleashed on Hatchetfield…he’d do anything for a doll. He’d even kill.”

“Max, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, none of that happened.”

“No. Not in this dimension, but in the one I originate from, people suffered because the adults are fucking useless sons of bitches who refuse to open their hearts up to heal! And because of that, I’ve got a gaping hole through my fucking chest!” He took Grace’s hand in his, holding her closer. “Because Solomon Lauter went to grab Steph, went to grab the Tickle-Me Wiggly doll she held, it was me who flew off the balcony. It was me to land on the swan fountain in the mall. It was me who suffered…but not anymore. And now, Grace, you won’t either.”

Grace watched as Max guided her hand to press on the bark of the tree. She shuddered. He was right. There was a different energy about that tree than there was with the others. It didn’t feel normal. It’s bark was softer, and if she really pressed, she could’ve sworn she felt a pulse. She’d always known that the trees were living. She’d always known, but this wasn’t just a living thing like every other plant. This tree was alive.

She could feel his smirk on the back of her neck as it clicked in her mind. “…what are you trying to tell me, Max? I want to get back to Boy Jerry so I can-“

“I think ya know.” He said, cutting her off with a gravelly whisper. “That this tree isn’t like the others, because it’s alive.”

“…yes.”

“And it was Girl Jeri who woke it up.”

With Jeri’s name now spoken, Grace’s ears filled with that repetitive whisper once more.

Pestilent. Demoralise. Hysteria. Esurient. Avarice.

“This is the tree the Hatchet Men do not touch because they know what’s best for the island. To leave this dormant. To leave it untouched. There is not just one soul attached to the end of it, but six. Six of the most powerful beings to ever encounter this world, they latched on to this tree and because of who they are, this tree will never die. I will never die.”

“Immortality is unachievable-“

“Then why am I standing here with you, Gracie?” His voice cut through the whispers, and all of a sudden, they were muffled. He was her main focus. He had always been her main focus. “I died on the Black Friday of 2019 and here I am, neither in Heaven or Hell because they don’t exist. Something much better awaits you, Grace Chasity, something above Heaven. If only you opened your heart out to the world you’re unfamiliar with-“

“Wait, heaven and hell…don’t exist?”

“No. Never have, never will.”

“…my life is a lie.”

Max looked at her and he could see how her heart broke. He could see her paling. If he wasn’t one himself, he’d say she was paler than a ghost. Deciding on trying not to lose her to her own emotions, he switched the topic to get straight to the point. It’d be easier for both of them that way. “You know what’s so special about this tree? You know why The Hatchet Men won’t touch it?”

“No.”

“Because they do not dare fuck with The Lords In Black.”

Distantly, Grace could hear cackling. If she were to describe it, she’d say that the cackle sounded like something pulled directly out of a horror movie. Auto generated but at the same time, all too real to be false. Even worse, she couldn’t quite locate the origin of the noise. It seemed to surround her but, at the same time, the laughing was nowhere. Either Max was really good at the technical side of things like Ruth Fleming and her stupid lighting booth, or something seriously strange was going on.

“This is their tree, Gracie. The Summoning Tree. It is their tree because, placed at the very base of it, is their book. The Black Book.”

Thunder clapped ahead even though there was no sign of rain and Grace could detect that something horrible was about to go down. It was never a good sign when thunder clapped with clear skies.

“Gracie, you backed yourself against this tree and it’s latched on to you.”

“Can it maybe not.”

He laughed. “You’re funny! But no, that’s not an option. Because, Girl Jeri, coincidentally, said the five words needed to summon the spirits of The Lords in the exact order that they needed to be summoned in. Pestilent. Demoralise. Hysteria. Esurient. Avarice…for Pokotho, Bliklotep, T’Noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim and The Lord In Black himself, Wiggog Y’Wrath.”

The laughter increased and Grace flinched. Though no damsel in distress, she still found herself leaning into Max for comfort, for support.

“I’ve got you, Gracie, don’t you worry. You’re okay.”

“But am I, though?!”

“Oh, you will be!” He tilted her head downwards so she could stare at the symbols of The Lords. “When I died, I was placed in a pocket between all dimensions, all realities. A space that existed where time doesn’t, where light doesn’t, where everything happens at once and yet, doesn’t happen at all. I was placed in The Black where Nibblenephim, He Who Feasts In The Dark, acquired my help. He saw the potential in me…and I’ve seen the potential in you. So, Gracie, I need you to do what you do best…but ya gotta give a little up yourself.”

He let go of her, and she finally turned away. She watched as he grabbed his axe, still trying to avoid the body of Girl Jeri on the floor. “I won’t help you.”

“And if I told you not only would you get to meet God but you’d be able to snitch on people all day every day without being called a liar?” He asked, holding the axe over both his shoulders, one hand gripping by the blade, one holding the other end.

She gulped. “…what will it take?”

“He’s the all-seeing, he’s got eyes on everyone at all time and he needs someone to be his additional support. To let him in to your heart, you need to understand that this is for the best.”

“It most certainly is not.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Gracie. I’m a half-dead interdimensional being who’s besties with a cannibalistic god. Nibblenephim’s brothers already latched on to their chosen three, but Bliklotep needs someone. It can’t be me, I’m blood-thirsty, but you…your reputation on this island’s never been worse, has it, you dirty girl?”

“I think I’m doing just well for myself, thank you-“

He let one hand go, letting the axe slide so his hand was in the centre of the handle. Holding her back against his chest, arm wrapped around her middle, he bent down, whispering to her. “You gonna let him into your heart? Gonna let him see the potential in you? Gonna let him make sure no one ever says a bad word about you ever again?”

“I…” She shut her eyes tightly. “Max. Will this stop everyone from being murdered?”

“It should do! I mean, I hate nerds, and I hate this nerdy little camp! To acquire the biggest fan of Abstinence Camp on the team? Yeah, it’ll put a stop to it.”

“And what do I gain?”

“Eternal power. No one will ever question you or your logic ever again, because who can call you a liar when you’ve met God?!”

“And I mean…that’s been one of my biggest dreams…!”

“So? You in for the kill, Gracie?”

She took a breath, reopening her eyes. “Take me right here, Max. Right under The Summoning Tree.”

Max cackled then. He swung the axe from around his shoulders, resting it on hers. With it now on her, he pulled her in close, and, with that smirk of his, tipped them both forward. They fell into leaves, and then further down, down, down, until there was nothing. Until there was only black.

Until there was only black, and only the truth swirling within her line of vision.  

Not moving a muscle proved difficult for both Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski. Pete had a tendency to fidget, and Steph was not fond of staying sat down for the amount of time that they had been. So, after a half hour or so, Steph pulled herself away from Pete’s chest, looking into his eyes. “Alright. We should probably go try to find Grace and see if we’re actually getting our asses kicked or not.”

“Yeah, I mean…that seems like a reasonable thing to do.”

“Sure does.” Steph stood, lacing her hand with Pete’s. Once up, she tugged him back to his feet so he was standing. “I still don’t get what she plans on doing, though, like I really don’t. I’m the mayor’s daughter. What’s she gonna do against me?”

“I mean, that’s a good point.” Pete followed her to the door, but his eyes caught sight of the magazine he’d abandoned. “Wait, Steph?”

“Yeah?”

“…mind if you wait a minute? I’m gonna, uh, hide this magazine in my clothes because I-I think Ted might appreciate having it back.”

“Ah. Yeah.” She nodded. “Go ahead, Pete.”

He shot her an awkward smile and, like it was contained with an infectious pathogen, picked it up, holding it far away from him. He grabbed his suitcase, neatly wrapping the magazine up as if it were a present. Then, he rejoined Steph at the door, giving her a reassuring smile. “Okay. Off to go find either Grace or Boy Jerry or Girl Jeri.”

“Their names are so annoying. Who’s idea was it to hire two people with the exact same name with different genders?”

“I have no clue.”

“Anyway. I guess we can go look though. Try and get Grace to back out of it?”

“Steph, it’s been like, half an hour. If Grace was gonna tell, she’s already done it by now! I’m sure of that! I’m surprised she didn’t come back.”

“To see us?”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t come back to shove it in our faces that we’re literally fucked.”

“Yeah, well, it’s Grace Chasity. She’s as unpredictable as Hatchetfield weather.”

“I mean, that’s…that’s certainly true.”

“Sure is.” She opened the door, leaving the cabin. “…my head still feels a little fuzzy, though. It’s usually cleared up by now.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I mean, I should be but it’s a little bit concerning that it’s taking this long for it to clear…maybe something has actually happened and I should be investigating that instead. Try to get the fuzz out my head…feels like there are just a load of bees in there.”

“Bees?”

“Yeah. It’s the only way I can describe the kinda sensation I have. Either bees or cotton…anyway,” she looked up to Pete. “That mansion looked like one that’d be in Pinebrook. I know that because that’s where I live. It’s not like I go into any other house on my street very often, though. I’m just trying to think of who could be rich enough to have a mansion like that.”

“…Linda Monroe?”

“Oh, no. Her house is all modern. This felt very…Victorian dystopia.”

“Roman Murry then, maybe?”

“What? Linda’s dad?”

“Look! I’m tryna help you here but I also have literally no fuckin’ clue about who owns mansions on this island.”’

“And I appreciate you trying to help me. Honestly, Pete. I promise.” She told him as she walked. “So uh, where do we start? The counsellor’s office or…?”

“Uh, yeah, seems reasonable enough, honestly.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Pete repeated awkwardly.

Steph walked them over to just beside the Arts and Crafts Pavilion where she knocked on the door. “…Boy Jerry? Girl Jeri?” A pause followed, waiting for an answer that never came. “Grace? Are you in here?” Steph gave it a few seconds to wait for an answer, but like it had been the first time, no one responded. “Fuck this, I’m just gonna go in.”

“What if the door’s locked though? Then what?”

She shrugged, pushing down on the handle, letting the door creak open. “Pete. The door opened. It was not unlocked, so I’m assuming that either they’re busy or-.” Steph looked up and a gasp was forced from her lungs. She backed away from the door slightly, bumping into Pete.

“Steph?” He asked her, catching her from falling back. “What? What’s in there?”

“Max wasn’t lying.” She said quickly. “There’s so much blood…”

Pete looked then. Considering he was squeamish, that was one of the more stupid decisions he’d done on his part, but she was right. That was a lot of blood. A lot of blood on one table that sat in the middle of the room and, somehow, the blood was still dripping down on to the floorboards beneath it. Horrifying. Disgusting…but why? Max. Steph had mentioned Max, and Max had mentioned The Axe Man, but Max was The Axe Man and-

“Max murdered Gabe on that table. Didn’t he?”

“Mhmm.” Steph forced out, trying to keep her voice as strong as she possibly could.

“I hate to say it but…but I don’t think one human can produce that much blood.”

“…I’d argue against it, but you’re the scientist. You’d know more about it than I would...but he murdered Mary and Noah out in the woods. I know that, I was there, so how can there be so much blood?!”

“Yeah…uh…oh, God, we need to tell someone…I don’t feel good, Steph.”

“Mhmm, okay, let’s get outta here.” Steph hummed again, shutting the door behind her. “You okay?”

“…I’ve got a phobia of blood. Periods were not good for me when I had them. And that was a lot of blood…we need to tell the counsellors or the cops or someone.”

“Right, but there’s no internet access, so we won’t be able to access the cops and I’m pretty sure the only working phone is in the office, which is filled with blood.”  

“So where do we even go to find Boy Jerry or Girl Jeri, then?! If they’re not in their cabin, then where would they be?”

“I don’t know, Pete. I don’t fuckin’ know.”

While she was speaking, Pete turned around, looking off to the outskirts of The Witchwood, to the blackened tree line where, just underneath the leaves, he could see a peculiar silhouette of a tall man with a shovel. Even in the shadows, though, it was undeniable how blue his shirt was. The very same blue that Pete had been forced to look at for the past 48 hours. The same shade of blue on his Virginity Rocks! shirt. A counsellor. It had to be a counsellor. They had to start there. “In the trees,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Look. Just in The Witchwood behind those trees. That’s a counsellor, right?”

Steph looked, blinking to let her eyes adjust. “You’re right, Pete. We’re going there.”

“Okay…okay.”

Soon enough, she was dragging him forward, not daring to let go of his hand. The counsellor wasn’t too far into the woods, near enough to the outskirts of camp that he’d be visible, but Steph had severely underestimated how dark the woods could get, even in the summer. Even though it wasn’t long at all before Steph reached him, it was still hard to identify exactly who he was. He seemed to be digging something, so, she made her voice known. “Hey! We’ve kinda got an issue and we need to find either Girl Jeri or Boy Jerry?!”

“I’m right here!” Jerry shouted back, forcing the shovel back into the dirt once more. “But give me a moment.”

“Alright.” Steph rolled her eyes, letting Pete’s hand drop from her’s. She looked around at the scene, suddenly noticing the various filled black trash bags dotted around Boy Jerry. “…what are you doing?”

“Playing a special kind of game of hide and seek with the campers! All hide…holding the seek.” He kicked one of the bags into the hole he’d been digging. When he did, though, his foot tore a hole through the black plastic and out tumbled several severed body limbs. “Oops,” Jerry said.

Pete looked away as soon as those limbs went falling, squeezing his eyes shut tight to try to blank the image of deceased teenagers falling into a pit in the woods. “Oh God…”

“It’s not what it looks like! I am not responsible for this!” Jerry tried to insist. “They were already dead when me and Girl Jeri found them! We did not murder them!”

“Yeah! But we know who did!” Steph said, trying to keep Pete as calm as possibly by leading the conversation.

“And who would that be?!” Jerry asked, spinning around to face the two of them. His flashlight now on the two campers, Jerry’s expression changed. “Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski. Out of your bunks. I suppose looking to partake in some hanky panky?!”

“No. We actually came to bargain with you against what Grace had said but-“

“Grace is with Girl Jeri somewhere in the woods where hopefully she won’t return. Grace Chasity saw too much.” Jerry gripped the handle of the shovel tighter in his hands. “And now, so have you two.”

He took a step towards the two of them and Steph stepped back. “Pete? You with me?”

“As with you as I can be right now…”

“Cool. Run.”

The two of them broke out into a sprint, but it was kind of hard to stay ahead when the leader of Abstinence Camp was a current shovel-wielding maniac who was hot on their tail. So, there they were, fleeing into the depths of The Witchwood, hoping that their legs would carry them to safety, wherever safety may be.

Everyone knew to stay out of The Witchwoods. It was a hotspot for the supernatural, or so people said. Obviously, Pete and Steph knew it was true, not to trust the seemingly ghostly whispers in the air. Ghosts were real; they’d seen them with their own two eyes. If they could survive a musical apocalypse started by a meteor crashing into The Starlight Theatre (which technically they didn’t) and survive a doll trying to take over the world to spread the message about how capitalism and consumerism were simultaneously awful (which, again, Steph sort of didn’t), then they could survive this. Right? Surely they had to. Being chased through the woods was nowhere as intense as to what they’d lived out in the other two dimensions, but it sure as hell felt worse in the current moment.

All of a sudden, Steph stopped in front of a tree. For whatever reason, her legs could not carry her further. It was as if she had been glued to the floor, stopped directly in her tracks. Leaves covered her shoes and she could feel the thick layer of mud beneath them. Maybe that was why she was stuck. The mud seemed fresh out here, which was strange considering it hadn’t rained for a while. Then, things started to become more apparent as to why she was there. Her stupid legs, carrying her through to an area she’d been before. Muscle memory sucked.

She saw those markings. They couldn’t hide away in the dark even if they wanted to, but from what Steph knew about The Black and White, she suspected they never wanted to stay hidden in the first place. She saw the white spray paint, but saw how they were ever so faintly coloured this time, tinged with vague pigment. In order, she saw the green wave, the purple circle, the yellow square, the blue star and the pink leaf. All of them arranged in the star formation Steph had only recently started seeing in her dreams. Like it had been in The Black and White, the sixth symbol, the white crown, was in the middle of the arrangement. The good within the bad, but who would that be? She didn’t know. She’d only met pure evil, and maybe the white was to represent their true form. How evil they could really be. She grabbed a hold of Pete’s hand again, suddenly unable to breathe. For what felt like eternity, she found herself stuck in one position, unable to exhale the toxic breath stuck to the back of her throat. Pitifully, she could hear him trying to break her free from her misery, but she physically couldn’t immerse herself back in reality. She was stuck. She could hear him trying to speak to her but she couldn’t focus.

Steph was back at the tree and where she was standing was directly above where The Black Book was buried. Why did she have to wind up there?

Her breath continuing to catch in her chest, Steph swallowed thickly. All she could taste was blood. She was convinced she was falling again, breaking through the shards of atmosphere that acted as a barrier between the skies and The Black. No ordinary person was supposed to encounter that dimension. No ordinary person was supposed to suddenly encounter deities like she had. Human appearing, sure, but the power they held was more than she could physically comprehend. Wiggly’s doing. This had to be Wiggly’s doing. Why else would she have ended up at the tree? Unless…unless-

“Steph!” Pete said, shaking her frantically. “Steph! Steph? Steph, sweetheart, listen to me, Steph!”

That was all it took to break her out of whatever trance she became trapped in. She looked up at Pete, noticing the tears in his eyes. “…huh?”

“Steph,” he said to her, his voice uncontrollably shaky. “Girl Jeri’s dead.”

Leaving no time to let the information process, Steph looked down. There, she saw Boy Jerry crouched down on the floor, and with the light he was shining on the ground, she was able to see what Pete meant. Girl Jeri, split directly down the middle, her two halves separate from each other, lying on the ground. A fresh kill. Max Jagerman’s newest victim. “…where’s Grace?” She asked, surprised to find that her voice was shockingly quiet.

“She’s nowhere around.” Pete said in return. “God, what if he got Grace? He got Girl Jeri and-“

“MY BABYGIRL!” Boy Jerry shouted, sobs racking his voice. “BABYGIRL JERI, WHOEVER COULD’VE DONE THIS TO YOU?!”

“And he’s inconsolable?”

“…seems like it.” Pete replied.

“So there’s no point trying to tell him about…Max?” She asked, her voice fading to a genuine whisper.

“I don’t think so. I think it’s best we just leave him. He’s in a state…we can’t help him with that.”

With another sob ripping through him, Boy Jerry did not turn back to Steph, but he made a bitter announcement. “Camp. Camp is cancelled. Go home. Get lost!”

“B-But what’ll you do about the body-“ Pete decided on asking him, hoping it’d be the last thing he’d ever have to say to Jerry.

“I have a shovel, Spankoffski! This isn’t the first dead body I’ve buried!” He snapped, dissolving into tears just as fast. “Oh, babygirl Jeri, whatever am I going to tell the boy?”

Steph squeezed Pete’s hand. “…this is fuckin’ weird. Let’s get outta here.”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m with you on that,” Pete said.

Abandoning Jerry to the woods, Steph and Pete turned, slowly leaving. In the dark, it was much harder to navigate, and they both assumed Jerry would need that torch to see where he was digging. Girl Jeri split in the middle, two halves of a whole bleeding out into the muddy layer of the forest floor. A fresh kill. Max Jagerman’s newest victim, but why? Why would Max Jagerman go so far as to kill a camp counsellor? Would Max Jagerman go so far to kill Grace? Not that either Steph or Pete cared enough about Grace to wish she wasn’t dead. In fact, knowing Grace died would probably be a sense of relief. Senior year would be somewhat more bearable, but the thought of them feeling happiness over Grace Chasity’s death had them both feeling sick. She was still a person, human like the rest of them. Dying at the hands of The Axe Man seemed to be brutal no matter what way they were killed, a deliberately painful death that would leave the mark on those unlucky enough to witness it.

As Abstinence Camp came back into their line of sight, Pete turned back to Steph. “…you okay? You froze up real bad back there and-“

“Pete?” She asked, voice returning to it’s normal volume once more, a slight edge to it this time, though, that hadn’t been there before. I don’t wanna talk about it, so don’t ask.”

“I-I was just asking-“

“And that is something I can’t tell you about.”

“Why?” He asked her, picking at the skin on his thumb with his free hand.

“Because you wouldn’t believe what the hell I was saying. Now can we please drop this? We gotta tell the other counsellors that camp’s been cancelled.”

She didn’t wait for his answer. She was striding directly over to the counsellors’ bunks leaving Pete in the dust wondering what the hell had happened with his girlfriend between her freezing up and them finding camp again. Except it was the Witchwoods. Weird shit happened in the Witchwoods all the time. He really shouldn’t care so much about it, everyone knew the Witchwoods were off limits…but something felt different.

For now, he’d push it to the back of his mind. Maybe, when they were at home, he’d ask her again.

All he wanted was for her to be okay.

He really hoped she was.

Chapter Text

Stephanie Lauter knew better than the average person than to let her thoughts get the best of her. She knew that. She knew it was better not to create a public scene, or a scene at all. Perks of being Solomon Lauter’s daughter and all. He taught her how to have a permanent resting bitch face for the sake of her getting what she wanted. What he didn’t realise was how badly that was going to backfire, how badly that was going to be used against him during her teen years. Still, Steph knew better than to create a scene, and making out like something was wrong after her and Pete walked back from witnessing Girl Jeri’s dead body was not something that should’ve happened. Now, Pete would worry. All he did was worry. She didn’t want herself to be a topic he worried about because she couldn’t keep herself or her emotions under control. She needed to make sure he was okay. She needed to make sure that he kept as calm as she knew she could be.

What was the first task? Letting a camp councillor know that camp was cancelled because Boy Jerry, who was having a breakdown in the middle of the woods over the dead body of Girl Jeri because she, by what Steph was able to piece together using context clues, had been his lover of sorts? She had no idea. She really didn’t. She had no idea about what was wrong with this camp or what was wrong with Hatchetfield. All she knew was that wherever she went, the weird and supernatural followed her. Maybe it was even worse this time because she had an eldritch god attached to her brain, or maybe it was because she was Solomon Lauter’s kid. She had no idea. She really had no idea, not like she really wanted to push the limits of reality to the point she was finding out. She wanted all of this over.

That started with camp being cancelled. That started with her informing someone, passing on Boy Jerry’s words.

“Steph!” Pete called after her. “Hang on a second! There’s no rush to tell anyone else that camp’s cancelled, right?”

“No, but it’s better to get it over and done with so we don’t have to wait until tomorrow.”

“But people are gonna get contacted tonight to say hey, come pick up your kid, camp got cancelled literally two days into a summer long programme and people are gonna flip. I mean, it is The Honey Festival tonight, don’t forget.”

“Oh yeah…and we’re missing it.”

“Yeah…but people are gonna be getting drunk, and watching the fireworks, and if the drunk are on the streets then the fatality rate’s gonna be higher than if we leave it. If we tell people tomorrow, they’ll be able to pull their shit together and get contacted, come collect their kids in a more fashionable manner rather than the middle of the night…I think we just need to wait this one out.”

“When are we not waiting things out though, Pete?” She asked him. “All it seems to be at the minute is us waiting for something to change. Right now, I’m waiting to tell the councillors that camp’s been cancelled by passing on Boy Jerry’s word and you wanna wait until morning?”

He caught up with her, scratching the back of the neck awkwardly. “…I really don’t wanna assume but you seem really stressed, and I…I really don’t think you seeing your dad would be the best case scenario right now. Y’know? And…and we could finally get a chance to breathe. Camp’s cancelled. We’re gonna wake up tomorrow and we’re gonna be going home.”

“You’ll be going home, I’ll be picked up by my dad and then, by the time everything’s said and done and me and him have gotten in an argument, I’ll be at your place anyway. It’s not like I’ll be going home for long. I mean, that’s usually what happens, anyway. Not like I’m complaining, I just-“

“Steph.” He gently took her hand. “Can we please try to relax for tonight? A lot of weird shit has been happening and it’s getting late and who knows? Maybe Boy Jerry will break free from whatever insane grieving process he’s in and tell our family himself? I don’t know, I’m trying to think of the positives here.”

“Right…so what do we do?”

“…I’m tired and I would like to go to bed. I am not cut out for running round circles in the woods or stressing out about Max Jagerman potentially murdering some of our classmates for the sake of it. That isn’t what I wanna stress about. Preferably, I wanna go back to my cabin, try and forget about it and pack my shit in preparation for tomorrow where we will be getting sent home hopefully to never return to this stupid camp. That’s all I want. And, with my cabin completely empty because both Noah and Gabe are dead, I would really like to spend tonight with you. With me and you alone and us together with nothing stopping us. Just for tonight, Steph. And…and you seemed real stressed out too and I don’t wanna make assumptions or anything but I just wanna make sure you’re okay and-“

“Peter.” She said, squeezing his hand. “I’m listening to you. I’m hearing what you’re saying and…” After a moment of deliberation, she sighed, looking into his eyes, decision made for her. “Yeah, fuck it. Tomorrow can wait. Me and you? Let’s go.”

“Back to my cabin?”

“Well it’s either yours or the one I’m sharing with Grace Chasity, and I have a feeling she’s not gonna be too impressed if I bring a boy back, let alone my literal boyfriend. I’ll just need to swing by my cabin, grab my bag and then I’ll be at your doorstep, okay?”

“Okay.” He squeezed her hand. “And you promise me you’ll tell me if there’s something wrong, right?”

“Wrong like what?”

“Like…we’ve fallen through the barrier of reality together. We literally smashed Earth’s core and fell from one dimension to the next. We’ve both dealt with eldritch deities to some extent and, I don’t know, nothing seems too far fetched anymore. Everything seems reasonable, at least.” He paused, then looked back down at her, finally speaking the words he’d been terrified to ask just in case it backfired. “…if something’s going on, you’d tell me, right?”

She nodded. “Of course I would…but I really can’t tell you about what happened in the woods back there.”

Even in the light of the moon, she could see how he went red after being caught out on something he’d merely been hinting at. “Huh?”

“I know that’s why you’re stressed out. It’s not like you hid it very well, babe. You’re stressed out about me because I had a reaction to The Witchwoods.” She looked into his eyes. “Trust me. When the time is right, if the time is right, I will tell you about it but right now, I literally can’t, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Okay. And trust me, I do wanna tell you, but it’s not something I feel I can discuss at this moment in time.” She cupped his cheek with her free hand. “I wouldn’t deliberately lie to you for the sake of hiding things. You know that, right?”

“…yeah.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

She kissed his cheek, dropping her hand. “I’m gonna go grab my bag. Meet you at your cabin in ten?”

“I’ll leave the door open.”

“Cool. See you then, Spankoffski.”

The next morning, on the third (and final) day of Abstinence Camp, campers awoke to the sound of the cries of checkered-tail nighthawks, and the wails of one very distraught camp councillor. The half-angered half-grieving sobs  of Boy Jerry were enough to wake everyone up. Not necessarily get them out of bed, but get their eyes open, at least. When Steph had woken up, her original plan had been to stay cuddled up with Peter for as long as possible, but by the way Boy Jerry all but broke down the door to tell them all campers needed to be up in 20 minutes, she realised there was no way for them to efficiently cuddle without breaking the time limit.

Following the rules for the first time in three days, Peter and Steph got themselves ready for the day ahead. With teeth and hair brushed, Pete and Steph sat around the campfire. Everyone else were in their pink or blue Virginity Rocks! shirts. They were the only two in normal clothes. With the knowledge that camp was cancelled before it was officially announced, they must’ve looked like they were deliberately trying to break rules. With Steph Lauter’s reputation, that wasn’t something she’d be shocked about. She had been known to be a bit of a bitch, a bit difficult, and someone to do everything to avoid the rules if possible. In that instance, it was not the case. It was her genuinely being ready for the day ahead without anyone else knowing the truth. Besides, Pete Spankoffski was the nerdiest nerd on the island. She’d influenced him in many ways, but rule-breaking was not something he’d do either. Steph noticed how the  Camp councillors looked at them to then shoot disgusted looks to each other, as did the campers. Little did they know that the joke would soon be on them. Together, wordlessly, she and Pete sat down on one of the logs around the unlit campfire, eyes on Boy Jerry who stood on the very same stage that he and Girl Jeri had stood on just days before. There, they watched as Boy Jerry cleared his throat, preparing to drop the bombshell of the century on these Christian freaks.

“…so. Good morning and welcome to the third day of Abstinence Camp,” Boy Jerry said. “This is usually where I would remind you of what activities you would be doing for the day and which councillor you would be led by. However, after an unfortunate incident yesterday regarding our beloved Girl Jeri…it is with my deepest regret I must inform you that Abstinence Camp has to be cancelled for the remainder of the summer.”

“What?!” Grace Chasity shrieked, standing up, hands on her hips. “What do you mean camp is cancelled?!”

Boy Jerry looked at her. “Without a senior councillor like Girl Jeri available, legally, we can’t continue. We don’t have the right staff, and we can’t throw out a job interview on the spot.”

“I’ll do it!” She said desperately.

“Grace…you’re only 18. It’s illegal.”

“I’ll find a way!” She insisted, unclipping a purple butterfly clip from her hair, putting it back to pin her fringe away from her eyes.

Boy Jerry ignored her. “With the disappearances of Gabriel Kilten, Mary Michaels and Noah Adams alongside the recent incident regarding our cherished Girl Jeri, I have no choice but to close camp for the safety of myself and the rest of you.”

“We can’t just close camp! I mean, how are the people going to open the hearts up to the Lord if they are not willing to listen?!” She asked, defiantly going with her point. “The people need to learn, Boy Jerry! How will the people learn if camp is cancelled!? The people need to know the words of The Lords In-“

“Your parents and guardians have already been contacted and each of you will be collected by 5 PM at the latest tonight. I strongly suggest you go and pack your things in preparation for camp closing.”

“But the word of The Lord-“

“Once packed, you will wait by the entrance sign to be collected and from there, you will be allowed anything that has been confiscated from you. Now, you’re all dismissed.”

Around camp, there was the chatter of people asking themselves when Noah and Mary went “missing” while Grace mumbled to herself. Something about needing the people to stay around so that they could listen to The Lord. The counsellors, however, were all muttering about how annoyed they were at the fact their pay salary was getting cut so short because camp was closing early. Steph was unbothered by most of that but unintentionally caught on to something not many other people seemed to have noticed. Grace Chasity had said “The Lords In” before she had been cut off. Not any ordinary person knew about The Lords in Black, as her and Pete had unfortunately found out. If Grace was in with The Lords, what did that mean for the rest of town? Did it mean anything? Or had Steph simply misheard her?

She didn’t know. She didn’t care. All she cared about was getting home and getting away from this shitty camp.

Her and Peter were already packed. Having been told camp was cancelled hours in advance, it meant they were several steps ahead of everyone else. So, she looked at Pete. “Wanna go grab our shit and go wait by the stupid fucking wooden fence?”

“I mean, what else are we gonna do? Camp’s over.”

“Thank fuck.”

“I think it seems reasonable, at least…to go wait by the fence, I mean.”

So, ten minutes later, both her and Pete were sat down on one of the chairs originally used in the breakfast cabin, waiting to be collected. Steph had regained her phone, Pete had regained his chocolates which he noted were cold, meaning they had been refrigerated. He had been under the assumption they didn’t get electricity out so deep in the woods, but was relieved to have his chocolates back anyway. She was scrolling on her phone, occasionally scoffing at the atrocious signal, and he was sat there, watching the floor of The Witchwood. After several moments of that, he knew there was no point trying to prolong silence. He may as well bite the bullet.

“Steph?”

She looked up from her phone, switching it off. “Yeah, Pete?”

“…I just wanted to ask if your head is okay? Because I know you got an onset migraine yesterday and I know you don’t get those unless he wants something to do with you…usually, there’s worse things that follow and I just wanted to see if you were doing okay. Just in case you’re not doing okay and something else has happened and-“

“Hey.” She grabbed his hand. “Peter, right now, I feel okay. Right now, I’m still perplexed as to why Wiggly would show me that mansion if it was just going to be accompanied by gunshots. Gunshots and blood splatters…I don’t know what the hell he was trying to tell me. Like, it was The Honey Festival. He knows what I’m doing at all times, if he wanted me to murder someone, he’d have possessed me and dragged me out to the Honey Festival last night, but I was still here. Pete, I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either, which is why I’m concerned because you really didn’t seem well yesterday…”

“Yeah, I know, and I was trying to be okay but like…” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s linked to the deaths of…you know who. I don’t think it’s something I’m supposed to specifically speak about.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either…it seems plausible, though.”

“Or, even better, it coulda just been a red herring! Something to taunt me! Something to frighten me to make me remember who’s servant I actually am.”

“I don’t really think you’re his servant though. He hasn’t made you do anything. He just gives you really shitty migraines.”

“Yeah, migraines whenever he wants me to pay attention to him or remind me that he’s there…not like I could fucking forget.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Hey, Peter, question.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear Grace earlier?”

“I think the question should be who didn’t hear Grace earlier?”

“I mean, that’s fair but like…did you hear what she said?”

“…she was getting pissed off over the fact that Boy Jerry had cancelled camp?”

“That but uh, she’d also said uh, what I think was, and I definitely could’ve heard this wrong- I’m prefacing it with it could’ve been my mind playing tricks on me but I could’ve sworn that she said The Lords In before Boy Jerry cut her off.”

Pete thought back on it, recounting the conversation slash argument Boy Jerry and Grace had had about cancelling camp. The realisation dawned on him, as shown when his pupils widened slightly. “…y’know what, Steph? I don’t wanna feed into anything that could be a might, but…but I think she did say that.”

“Pete. You do realise that Wiggly is a Lord in Black, right?”

“…I do now.” He pushed his glasses back on to the bridge of his nose. “So, what? Grace might be in deals with the fuckin’ devil?!”

“He isn’t the devil, Pete, sweetheart, he’s much worse. He’s more powerful than Satan. Satan.”

“How the hell did that happen, though?! Isn’t she the one constantly calling people sinners and shit?”

“Yeah. Exactly, which is what I’m worried about because if she’s in talks with The Lords somehow…then we could be on to something really dangerous. I mean, they’re gods. Who else would they target rather than “I’d fuck Jesus Christ” herself?”

He laughed. “Steph, don’t phrase it like that. It’s awful.”

“Okay but come on, don’t even lie to yourself. She would if she could, and you know it.”

“I mean…I do know it, but I really don’t wanna think about it like that…but this is bad, right?”

“It’s absolutely fucking awful.”

“If Grace is in talks with Wiggly?”

“Wiggly or his brothers…there are five of them, each of them as fucked up in individual ways. I don’t know how they work. I literally can’t remember for the life of me how much I’ve told you about The Lords In Black but uh…” Her voice quietened when she mentioned their title, but she was not immune to noticing how the trees suddenly rustled more despite their being no wind. “Maybe they’ll latch on to one person and that becomes like, their favourite soul or whatever, or maybe they can have multiple favourites…if Grace is working with Wiggly then yeah, we probably are fucked.”

“We’re so fuckin’ dead.”

“We are. We are so, so fuckin’ dead…” She sighed. “I mean, all we can do is hope that she isn’t in talks with the devil, well, more so the devils, and hope that we misheard her.”

“Yeah…” Pete cleared his throat. “Who do you think’s coming to pick you up anyway?”

“I’ll be shocked if my father shows up. Genuinely. If my dad shows up to pick me up instead of sending his mistress, I might as well give Jesus a blowjob.”

“Steph.”

“That’s how unlikely it’s gonna be! Start calling me Grace Chasity if my dad shows up to come and collect me, I will be on my knees for alternative prayer reasons!”

“I will not be calling you Grace Chasity, because by doing that, she wins and that means that I’d be dating Grace Chasity. Steph, I don’t wanna date Grace Chasity. I wanna date Stephanie Lauter.”

“Well, it’s just your luck, handsome, that Stephanie Lauter wants to date you.” She looked over to him. “But seriously. I’ll do something extraordinarily drastic if my father comes to collect me instead of Miss Tessburger. She drives him around everywhere and he still insists that she come and collect me from school despite me literally having a car and a license?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “I still don’t get it, but sure, Solomon. You do you.” She sighed. “Ted’s picking you up?”

“Either Ted or my transphobic parents.” A silence fell on them and he cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I said my parents. Ted literally has custody of me so it’s definitely Ted. Ted is most definitely picking me up from camp, and he’s probably gonna tease me about the fact that I couldn’t even last a few days in camp. But hey, I can most likely distract him with the fact I found his literal porno magazine in the wall. If I give it back to him, hopefully he’ll get off my back.”

“I’m hoping for your sake that he gets off your back and uh, if he says anything about us doing anything at Abstinence Camp, I will go full Grace Chasity on him.”

“Babe, you don’t gotta do that.”

“Oh, but I will.” She smiled. “And then I’ll make sure he never teases you again.”

“Look, he’s my big brother. If he isn’t teasing me about sex then what the fuck is he doing? It’s what big brothers are for, after all. Or, as Ted would, say, it’s all they’re good for.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child, but from what I’ve seen, I am going to agree with your brother and-“

“I think that’s the first, anyone willingly agreeing with Ted.”

She laughed. “I’m going to agree with your brother and say that yes, older brothers are only good for sex jokes and teasing their younger brothers about the art of intercourse and reproduction.”

“And we can settle on that?”

“We can, in fact, settle on that.” Steph looked up, eyes widening with her eyebrows still furrowed. “…well, call me Grace Chasity, Pete.”

“Huh?” He looked up at the black car which had just pulled up, a stretch Cadillac Fleetwood. “Holy shit, that’s your dad.”

“Yeah. And not Miss Tessburger…my dad.” She stood up, throwing her rucksack on her back. “I don’t know if I should be terrified or not. If he’s here then something serious must’ve kicked off and…yeah, I’m uneasy.”

“I’m also uneasy for you.” He stood up. “…kiss goodbye? I assume he’s not gonna let you wait with me until Ted gets here?”

“Most definitely not.” She shuffled forward, falling into his arms. “See you tonight, okay?”

“Alright.” He kissed her softly. “And you text me when you get home. I wanna make sure you got back okay.”

“I will. I always do.” She kissed him again as the door to the car shut.

Solomon Lauter stood there in all his pin-striped suit glory, clicking his fingers at Steph. “Stephanie. Mr Spankoffski. Get in the back of the car. I need to go and speak with your leading councillor, who would be that be?”

“…Boy Jerry but-what?”

“Must I repeat myself, Stephanie?! You and Mr Spankoffski are to get in the back of the car. We have places to be so hurry up. I do not have all day.”

Steph looked at Pete, who looked equally as stunned as she did. “…I don’t wanna piss him off any more so uh…me and you. Backseat?”

“Yeah. I’m not messing around when it comes down to your dad. He’s terrifying.”

“You’re telling me.” Letting her hand slide into his, they walked over to the limo. She opened the back so they could toss their suitcases in and then, once their belongings were as secure as they could be, they climbed in the back. She got in the left backseat while he got in the right, but even the empty middle seat couldn’t keep them apart. Her hand was back in his before he could even ask. “…I wonder why he’s so pissed, though. Like, it was his idea to send me here. It’s not my fault shit went sideways.”

“No, and he can’t blame you for that…I wonder if it’s because camp got cancelled early? Or because news Gabe, Mary and Noah are, quote on quote, missing, even though we’re always going to know the truth?”

“I don’t know…maybe…” She sighed, looking in the mirror to see her father thundering his way back from the councillor’s office. “He’s coming back. Play sane.”

“Gotcha.”

“And don’t speak unless he speaks to you. That’s the easiest way you’ll survive this, as my boyfriend, that is. I mean, hopefully he won’t say anything, it’s not like I’ve told him me and you are together. He knows I have a boyfriend but-“

“Steph.” Pete said in a hushed whisper.

She shut up just as her father reached the driver’s seat door. Opening it, he suavely climbed inside, buckling back up. Without a word, he pulled away from the wooden gates of Abstinence Camp, heading back down the track in The Witchwood. Steph wouldn’t deny the fact that getting away from her father for a little while was a nice treat. The lack of tension that had been between her and any other adult at Abstinence Camp was heavenly compared to what she experienced on a day-to-day basis. However, now that she was back, sitting in the backseat of her dad’s stupid car, she was suddenly remined about what real life was like and what that expectation was. Mayor’s daughter. Sit still, look pretty and stay silent.

That was why it took her to clamp her teeth down on her tongue when her father finally addressed Pete for her to not say anything that’d start a fight.

They drove out of The Witchwoods, heading west on the island instead of south like they were supposed to, not like Pete seemed to notice. Pete latched on to one person in particular, laughing softly to himself. “Hey, Steph.”

“Hmm?” She asked, looking out his window.

“It’s my mom.” He said, looking at her with a bright smile on his face. “She’s wearing two shoes. My dad seemed to have sold the other one now. Now he sells women’s shoes, not just women’s shoe.”

Not even she could hide her laughter then. “You’re such a dork, Spankoffski.”

Even thought their joy had just begun, the crusher of serotonin stepped in before they could really have their moment. “Mr Spankoffski,” Mayor Lauter said, keeping his eyes firmly focused on the road. “I believe you were expecting your older brother to come and collect you from Abstinence Camp, am I correct?”

Shocked he was being addressed by the literal mayor and father to his girlfriend, Pete staggered over his words. “Um, yes, sir.”

He cleared his throat. “There was an incident regarding your brother last night. When I was contacted by Abstinence Camp, he, somehow, managed to get in contact with my assistant. I was then asked to take you directly to him, considering he is your legal guardian. I am afraid, however, that the news isn’t good and times look uncertain. For the sake of yourself, you will be staying with myself and my daughter until your brother recovers.”

“Recovers?” Pete asked. “…what happened?”

“…I will allow Theodore Spankoffski to tell you that himself.”

Nobody spoke for the rest of the journey, drowning in the implications of what Solomon had said. Fucking implications. They ruined everything.

Like everything did, the journey came to an end, but not at the place Peter had expected. There he was, parked outside the front of St Damien’s, and Solomon unlocked the doors. “My assistant, Miss Tessburger, is waiting for you by the entrance. She will personally escort you to your brother.”

“Why am I here?” He asked uneasily. “Why am I…what happened to Ted?”

“I have already told you. She will escort you to your brother and he will explain in full.”

Steph squeezed Pete’s hand. “Pete. Just go. Text me, okay?”

“This is all so sudden-“

“And it’s just how it is with my family, I’m afraid…you should go. See if Ted’s okay and all, right?”

“Right…” He unbuckled. “Uh, thank you, Mayor Lauter. For the ride and uh, Steph? I’ll see you tonight.” Focusing on her smile, he shut the door behind him and headed to the front of St Damien’s where, as promised, a woman in a maroon blazer, matching pencil skirt and black heels waited for him.

She eyed him up and down. “You’re Peter Spankoffski?”

“Uh, y-yes, ma’am.”

“With me,” she said, walking through the doors.

He had no choice but to follow.

Through the clean, pristine halls of St Damien’s he went in what seemed to be an endless labyrinth. The fact he was in hospital was the most concerning thing he could think of, and his campmates had died. But no. When Ted was involved and so were hospitals, it couldn’t be good. It really couldn’t.

They walked for miles before they eventually stopped at a door. She cleared her throat, looking at him. “He’s in there. Visiting hours end at five. I will be here to collect you at 5:15 exactly.”

“Alright, uh, thanks?”

She gave him a thin lipped smile he was sure held no real emotion behind it before turning her back, walking away. That left Pete staring at the door of one of the rooms. Even though his anxiety did nothing but prickle at his skin, he still found himself pushing down on the handle.

Into the bright white room he went, the sound of a heart monitor filling his ears. He closed the door, looking at the floor, unsure of if he was actually supposed to be there. Hospitals still freaked him out after everything. After the meteor, after the explosion…after everything had happened, hospitals freaked him out. The fact he’d been brought there with links to Ted? That did not ease him by any means.

However, his brother’s voice did.

“Hey, dipshit.” Ted’s voice said, cutting through the mellow silence. “Gonna come say hi to your big bro or what?”

Finally, Pete looked up. He could feel the colour drain from his face as his jaw dropped into a soft ‘o’ shape. Now everything was making sense. There, in front of him, as the centrepiece of the room, was his older brother, in a hospital bed, throwing up peace signs while attached to several different machines. Freezing up in the doorway, all he could do was stare. Things were finally starting to click into place now.

Ted was in a hospital bed because something had happened last night, and all Peter could do was assume the worst.

Chapter Text

The world had stilled. Nothing made sense anymore. He had assumed that everything would’ve been fine, but he should’ve trusted that rocky feeling in his gut as soon as Solomon Lauter had pulled up to St Damien’s. His luck. Always his luck that something like that would happen to someone like him. Three days. He had been gone three days, and his older brother was in a hospital bed. Not only that, he was hooked up to a heart monitor. Almost dead. At some point, his brother had done something so stupid for him to get himself hooked up to life support, and all Pete could feel was rage.

He knew his brother was going to try and play this off as something non-serious like he always did, but it wasn’t okay. Not anymore. He’d dealt with Ted trying to brush off every possible issue for as long as he could remember and it wasn’t fair anymore. Humour couldn’t solve everything, and it certainly couldn’t solve this. Being sensible was what could solve the root of the issue. After everything that had happened with him, had happened with the meteor, had happened in the second dimension with Steph, Peter Spankoffski had made the formal decision to stick with statistics. Stick to living. Stick to the truth and everything that came with it even if that meant being brutally honest. With brutal honesty, there were no gaps for lies to slip past. There was nothing. There would never be anything, nothing but black, at least. Black and white print in where the truth would be written for it to be published for the world to see. In black and white, there would be nothing but the truth, and all Peter could hope was that, right now, his older brother was gonna sit there and tell him everything that had happened straight up. No beating around the bush, saying it as it was. Pete needed the truth. He needed to know what had happened.

He sat down in the chair beside his older brother’s hospital bed, staring at him as Ted, weakly, ran a hand through his hair. He clamped his jaw shut, realising it was stupidly hanging open while Ted’s trembling hand slicked his hair back. He always wore it like that and it always looked stupid. It looked stupid then, too, while he was sat in that hospital bed looking like he was days off death’s doorstep. The fact Ted’s hair was greasy enough for it to stay slicked back was concerning and left Pete to nothing but unease. The fact his older brother looked like he was dead after everything that Pete had witnessed throughout those three days almost made him sick.

Much like that face he’d seen back in the boys’ washroom at camp, Ted’s face was ghostly white. For once, he was able to actually see the humanity in his brother that hid underneath the sleazy persona. Had Ted’s lips always been so cracked before? Had they always been borderline blistered? He didn’t know. He really didn’t. He’d always looked at least somewhat healthy, but then again, it was never Ted’s initial priority to live in the apartment. In the apartment, make breakfast, make sure Pete had enough money to survive the day, set out dinner for that evening, and then hook up with some girl. Pete had no idea what had happened or why his brother was so sickly, but he really didn’t want a girl to be the cause of this. It'd be such a stupid thing for Pete to come to terms with. Ted’s eyes, they were sunken in, no emotion Pete knew of recognisable. His cheeks, already so hollow, were practical holes in his face. That was not his brother lying there on that bed. That was the face of a stupid fucking idiot who’d let himself hurt so badly in the past three days, hurting Pete in the process and-

He was overthinking. He was definitely overthinking. It wasn’t him who was stupid. He wasn’t the stupid one. He had been sensible, and the ability to be sensible had let him live. Let him survive those three days. So, if he had been the sensible one, then what did that mean for Ted? Pete was good at detecting the truth, and right now, his gut was telling him that Ted hadn’t been hospitalised due to illness. If not illness, then what? Something physical? Fuck. Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

Back to being blinded by pure white rage that fronted in the mix of complicated emotions he could hardly recognise, Peter Spankoffski came to a final decision. Ted was stupid. He was so, so fucking stupid.

There was no reasonable answer as to why his brother needed to be hospitalised, and all Pete could do was call him stupid. That was what he was. Stupid. He was a stupid, pathetic man. It wasn’t the first time someone had come to that realisation, though. Everyone else on the island knew it and now, so did Pete. Now, it was officially common knowledge. Deep down, Pete had always known it, how much of an idiot his older brother was, but this proved it further.

With his thoughts collected, shoved harshly into a box in the back of his brain, Pete finally spoke. “Ted. What the fuck did you do?”

Ted’s peace signs turned to hands raised in surrender, though he could hardly get them above his head. “Okay, I can detect you’re pissed, so I’m gonna preface this by saying I’m not sleeping around anymore-“

“Ted.” Pete looked down at him. “I’ve been gone for three days. What did you do? Why the fuck are you in hospital?!”

“How was camp, Petey?”

“Don’t you fucking dare try to dodge this.” He moved from staring straight ahead to looking to the left, looking down at Ted. “I have been gone for three days. Three very traumatic days, mind you. Camp gets cancelled, much to my joy, and I’m expecting to be picked up by you. Solomon Lauter, the dad to my literal girlfriend tells me I gotta get in the car cuz I’m staying with him or something, it all happened so fast, and then I end up here because you’re in hospital. No one has told me anything, and you’re in hospital, and I am so stressed and for God’s sake, Ted, I just wanna know what the hell happened!”

Ted’s hands lowered, moving to rest in his lap. “…yep. You’d be right. I am, in fact, in hospital, and-”

“Why?! I’ve been gone for three days. What the fuck have you done?”

Ted looked over to the door instead of at his younger brother, closing his eyes to make things easier for himself. If he didn’t see Pete’s reaction to any of this, then it’d make things easier. Hell, the kid was already pissed off, he didn’t need to see one of the few times Pete used his anger. Hearing was good enough for him. “I went to The Honey Festival.”

“I assumed you would. I assumed you would because you said you’d let me go this year, and I ended up at Abstinence Camp…you’re a dick for making me go. You realise that?”

“…yeah. But uh, kinda glad you didn’t go to the festival anyway. Kinda glad I made that decision to ship you off to camp.”

“Why?”

Ted gave another gentle sigh, shifting his jaw. “I’m trying to think of a way to tell you what happened without being overly harsh about it.”

“I’d rather you just told me upfront. I mean, I’m sure after camp, nothing can be as bad as what I’ve been through.”

Semi-reassured by his younger brother’s words, Ted softly exhaled, ignoring the pain in his chest. “…Pete, I got shot.”

Peter Spankoffski wasn’t often wrong in life, but he was in that moment. Things, as it turned out, could get so much worse. The colour drained from his face all over again and the world stilled. His brother. Shot. So many scenarios raced through Peter’s mind and yet, he could speak none of them. There he sat, staring down at his brother who, in all his cowardice, was refusing to look at him. “What…what do you mean you got shot?”

“…I went to The Honey Festival.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“…tried to flirt with some chick. She weren’t into it.”

“Probably because you call women chicks.”

“Ah! I still got picked up though, so who’s the joke on?!”

“I’m the one with the girlfriend.”

“Touche…” Ted sighed softly. “Some other woman saw me, took interest in me…and she took me to her house. In Pinebrook.”

Pete could’ve sworn his blood ran cold then. “…Pinebrook?”

“Yep. Pinebrook. And she tried to introduce me to her bastard son. He said something-I really don’t remember what happened next but her son said something and she seemed done with me before we’d even started…she pulled out a gun and she opened fire. And I got hit. Four times.”

Pete’s white-hot anger faded to something with an icy blue tint. “…where?”

“Once on my shoulder. Twice in my chest and once on my hip.” Ted finally reopened his eyes, looking at his brother. “Jesus Christ, you look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

“Yeah, I kinda did.” That was what he said. “How…how did you end up here, though?”

“…had enough strength in me to call myself an ambulance. She left me for dead…when I woke up next, I was here…they stitched me up. I’m okay, Pete, they’re monitoring me closely but they think I’ll make a full recovery.”

Pete put his head in his hands, exhaling a shaky breath as slowly, that anger dissipated. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“…your anger is justified-“

“No, Ted! You don’t get it! I literally go away for two days and you’re getting shot because you can’t keep your dick in your fucking pants!”

“Okay, when you phrase it like that-“

“You don’t understand!” Pete stood up. “I’ve already lost you once because you’re the horniest bastard I’ve ever met! It killed me then and I don’t know what I’d do if it’d happen again!”

Ted’s eyes followed Pete, looking down slightly. “Pete, you never lost me.”

Similarly, Pete dropped his eyes, noticing how his hand was tightly gripping his scarred arm. He bit the inside of his cheek. “…yes, I did, and I can’t talk about it because you’ll think I’m insane.”

“I’d never…”

“No, Ted, you would. Because my life is fucking messy and insane and-“ He turned back to look at him. “You got shot.”

“Yes…four times.”

“You went to The Honey Festival, got picked up by some person and got shot?”

“Yes, Peter. I got shot.”

“In Pinebrook.”

“In Pinebrook.”

“Four times?”

“Yeah.” Ted held his hand out. “I can see you’re stressed out. Can you come sit down?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Peter, I’m injured, not dying, so can you please come sit down?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Please, Pete?” He looked at him. “Because where else are you gonna go, huh? And if you think about trying to hide anything from me, you’ll know I’ll get through to you no matter what. I’m your brother.”

“I don’t wanna sit down.”

“Then-just come here?” He said, pushing one side of the bed down. “Here. You can’t hurt me, at least not more than I already am.”

Pete looked back at him. “…are you sure?”

“What else am I meant to do? You’re upset and I’m still your guardian. I’m doing a pretty shit job of guardian-ing you if I can’t take care of you now.”

He wanted to argue, wanted to go against all he knew but he couldn’t. He had no energy. He physically couldn’t argue against it. Within a second, he was sitting on the edge of Ted’s bed, gently being coaxed down to lie next to him. Then, as soon as he was eye level with Ted, the tears began. He could feel Ted wrap his arms around him, hold him so gently that it was like Ted was afraid that he’d break. Ted was the one who’d almost died, yet Pete was the frail one.

Quietly, he heard his brother speak. “Talk to me, Pete. I’m listening.”

How could he even begin?

“People died at camp.”

That sure was one way to start talking.

Ted looked down at his brother. Despite how tired he was, despite how badly the pain had sucked every single healthy bone in his body away, his eyes filled with a different kind of emotion. Sympathy. That’d be one way to describe it. It wasn’t tiredness, that was for sure. “People died? Like-“

“Murder. They were murdered, and nobody would believe me if I said what had happened. I-I mean, I didn’t see it happen, but Steph did and she told me and we almost died, and I don’t think I’ve really processed that yet but…” He shut his eyes, doing his very best to hold the tears back. “You’ll think I’m insane.”

“What’s more insane than this?”

“…Ted, the Axe Man’s real.” He waited for Ted to say something on the matter. He didn’t. “I was in one cubicle…Steph was in the other because Grace Chasity wouldn’t let her shower properly…we weren’t even doing anything, we were just…I got out the shower, and I gave her shower gel back cuz I forgot to pack my own, and we were just talking to, and an axe came flying through the shed and… and Gabe Kilten is dead. Mary Michaels is dead. Noah Adams is dead. They were murdered, and I don’t know what is going on, and Girl Jeri died-“

“Wait, someone killed Girl Jeri?”

Pete nodded. “The Axe Man killed Girl Jeri. Her body was split directly down the middle and-“

“Damn.” Ted sighed softly. “She was hot. But she and that other councillor seemed to have something going on-did you know he’s a journalist for Action News?”

“…what?”

“Jerry Hachett.”

“…Hachett as in…hatchet…field?”

“He always said- when I was at camp, he always said his surname was French and pronounced ha-shet. Didn’t matter. We all called him Hatchet anyway. And the girl, Jeri Woods-“

“…that’s so ironic. She died in the woods.”

“Oh, Hatchetfield. How you bless us with your irony day after day.”

“…you let me go to camp, and people died.”

“I know. Petey, I’m sorry.”

“And you know what? I’m not even mad about the fact people died, or the fact that I almost died. I’m upset because I think Steph’s mad at me and I don’t even know what I did. I don’t know.”

“…why would Steph be mad at you?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t try anything. We didn’t do anything because Gabe died the first day but we ended up in the woods and Girl Jeri died and we came back and something happened, and she was suddenly really nervous and…and I don’t know. And now I’m living with her while you heal, I suppose, and I just wanted you to come pick me up after I’d had the worst three days and…and nobody was telling me what happened, and you got shot and-“

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah but…Steph had a really intense migraine yesterday and…” He stopped himself. “And oh my god.”

There, it clicked. The similarities between Steph’s onset migraine and what had happened to Ted became more apparent. Became so similar that they could no longer be consider similarities or coincidences. Her migraine had started with The Honey Festival, where Ted had been trying to flirt with one girl but left with another. The second thing she had seen had been was a mansion, which she described as being something pulled directly out of Pinebrook. Ted had been taken to a mansion, in Pinebrook, where-

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Four red flashes. Four gunshots. Those gunshots had almost killed his brother. Pinebrook had almost killed his brother. The Honey Festival had almost killed his brother. Hatchetfield almost killed Ted because of his own righteous stupidity, and now, he was paying the price. They were all paying the price. For some reason he wouldn’t say, Pete had been sent to Abstinence Camp where three of his campmates had died. Had he not, and he’d gone to The Honey Festival, he had no what would’ve happened. What were his options? Die at Abstinence Camp at the hands of Maxwell “The Axe Man” Jagerman (if what he and Steph theorised turned out to be true), or stay at home, go to The Honey Festival and end up in the same fate as Ted?

It didn’t matter. They were both alive, but other people weren’t and Ted might not have been.

What the fuck was going on?

“Peter?” Ted asked. “Hey, you with me?”

Trying to keep himself together, he cleared his throat. “…so why did Mayor Lauter pick me up, then?”

“…I got a call from camp, asking me to come pick you up. I couldn’t and…asked them to contact Solomon because he’s Steph’s dad…figured it’d be better for you to stay with Steph while I’m stuck here.”

“But it wasn’t the same. I’ve never met Mayor Lauter as my girlfriend’s dad before and-“

“Does he not know you and Steph are together?”

“He knows she has a boyfriend…he doesn’t know who.” He could feel Ted tense slightly. “…what did you do?”

“I might have told the camp counsellors to let Mayor Lauter know that Steph’s boyfriend was at camp, and that I couldn’t pick you up because-“

“Why can you not just think with your mind for once? You’re always thinking with your fucking dick!”

“Pete-“

“No! I’m fucking pissed off!” He said, pulling away from his brother even though he instantly regret it. He got off the bed, standing back up. “All you do is think with your fucking dick! All the time!”

“But I’m not anymore-“

“It doesn’t matter!” Pete looked at him. “For nearly 18 years I’ve watched as you put your dick before anything. It doesn’t matter about what I want, it’s all you and your stupid hormones!” He took a shaking breath. “I watched you die because you couldn’t keep it in your goddamn pants!”

“Peter, I’m not dead-“

“No, but you were, and you killed everyone, because you couldn’t keep it in your fucking pants!”

“Peter, nobody died-“

“This is what I mean when I said you wouldn’t believe me! The only way I can prove it is with this!” He held up his wrist, which he had been frantically grabbing at since he’d stood. “And you’ll tell me I got it from an accident when I was born. No I didn’t!”

“Petey, you’re panicking-“

“I know that, but you almost died and Steph could be really unwell and I don’t know what to do! People died, I almost died, you almost died, and now Mayor Lauter might know I’m her boyfriend and he isn’t a forgiving man!” He looked down, jaw shaking as he tried to stop himself from crying. “All you do is think with your fucking dick and why? Because you lost Jenny?”

A chill fell over the room. “…what did you say?”

“You. And. Jenny. Kilgore.” He looked back up from the floor, where his eyes had managed to drop, to Ted. “At least you were bearable when Jenny was around.”

“Peter, I literally don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. Jenny hasn’t been around since-“

“College, because you fucked it up then, and when you couldn’t get with the girl you liked, you became this.” He gestured frantically to him. “And now look what’s happened…why can you never just settle?”

“I’ve told you, I’m trying.”

“And it’s not good enough! Ted, I’ve been bullied because I’m your brother. I’ve been harassed, I’ve been hurt…fuck this. I don’t wanna fight, I don’t have it in me.” He headed for the door.

Ted sat himself up, wincing as he did so. “Where are you going!? Tessburger’s not coming back until five-“

“I’m ringing Steph so she can pick me up so she can drive me back to the apartment where we were supposed to spend the night anyway…y’know, I really hope you do get better but for fuck’s sake, I can’t deal with your stupidness any longer.”

He left, and Ted slumped down in his bed. On any other day, he’d say something about Pete choosing to hang with Steph rather than him. He’d make a comment about the relationship his little brother had managed to get himself into while being the dorkiest kid on the island, but he couldn’t. Pete was upset. Pete was upset and he wasn’t there…and neither was Jenny.

All Ted Spankoffski was good for, it seemed, was saying things at the wrong time and pushing away the people he loved the most. God fucking dammit…maybe Pete was right. Maybe it was time to change. After all, he was starting high school soon. He wasn’t the little kid he had in his mind anymore.

He was Peter Murphy Spankoffski, a Hatchetfield High senior. The least he could do was at least support him through his last year of high school. Things needed to change, and they had to change now.

After all, this was not the same kid he’d raised.

There were three notable incidents that had proven to Ted Spankoffski exactly who his little brother was, exactly who he was interested in and exactly who he’d become. An incident at nine, an incident at thirteen and an incident at seventeen.

At 9 years old, his little brother (who, at the time, Ted had known as his sister) had come out of school with a cupcake in hand. He’d picked Peter up from school as it was his night with him. He’d give him dinner, they’d watch a movie and his dickhead dad would pick him up later on that evening after work. Whatever. Ted got to see his little sister. It was always the best part of his week. That day, though, he noticed how his little sister had walked out with a cupcake in hand. Even when getting her settled in the car, he noticed how she refused to let go of the cupcake. How she refused to take her eyes off of it.

Even back then he figured something was up. He knew his sister, and knew she was no stranger to wanting to tear her teeth into something sweet, like a cupcake. While being cautious, when parked at a stoplight, he had turned to his little sister and he’d asked, “you okay, E?” Even back then it was rare Ted used his little sister’s full name. E was the nickname he’d given his little sister…maybe there was a part of him that always knew she’d hated her name. He didn’t know. That wasn’t the point. The point was the cupcake.

It was a chocolate cupcake in a blue cupcake case. There was a tiny flag poking out of chocolate buttercream, and there were tiny silver balls on top, the sweet kind. His little sister had sat there in the backseat, staring down at it. “…got a cupcake,” she’d eventually said.

“You sure did…you gonna eat it?”

“The cool girl gave it to me,” she’d continued. “She wrote my name on it and everythin’, Teddy. On a flag.”

“She did?” Ted was not unfamiliar to this “cool girl.” His sister mentioned her a lot, but Ted hadn’t managed to figure out her name. “Why’s that?”

“It’s her birthday…she saved me a cupcake. Put my name on it so no one would eat it.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah…she’s nice. And cool. And got pins on her jacket…she likes Princess and The Frog. She had a frog pin.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah…she’s cool. And pretty.”

Ted looked back to the road after that, getting ready to drive off when the lights changed. “Is she your friend?”

“No. Only Ruth is my friend. But I would like to be her friend…she’s pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She looked down to the cupcake. “Even her name is pretty. Stephanie.”

That had been the first time that Ted Spankoffski had figured out the girl who had captured the heart of his brother had been Stephanie Lauter.

The second time had been the November of 2015. His little brother had been thirteen by that point, and had started staying over with Ted more often than he’d stay with their parents. One time, he remembered shouting for him to come and get his dinner, but when he didn’t, took his plate directly to him. When he opened the door, he saw his little brother at a laptop with papers sprawled around him.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Makin’ a PowerPoint for school. On some stupid book.”

“Need help?”

“No…I got it, Teddy…I’m almost done anyway. It’s a bad book but I like PowerPoints so it makes it more bearable.”

“Well, I’ve been shouting you for a couple so I’ve brought you your food.” He walked forward, setting the plate on the desk. “I thought it was a collaborative PowerPoint?”

His brother went quiet then, gulping. “…Stephanie Lauter’s my partner…her mom’s gone missing…I don’t wanna put any extra stress on her and uh again, I like PowerPoints.”

Two things Ted Spankoffski learnt about his brother that day. One? He was a people pleaser. Two? He was a raging fucking nerd.

The third time he knew Stephanie Lauter had captured the heart of his brother had been that day. August, just under a month until Peter started senior year. He had thought he was doing the right thing, offering for Solomon Lauter to pick Pete up from camp. He was sure Stephanie would’ve appreciated more time with her boyfriend anyway. Pete never spoke about his relationship with Stephanie around him…reflecting back on everything, he could now see why. Pete didn’t want to talk because of his reputation. Honestly, Ted couldn’t blame him. His reputation was awful.

But there, at 17, due to turn 18 that October, he’d seen his little (not so little brother) stand at the doorway as Ted became flooded with guilt. He’d heard him whisper one sentence. “What the fuck, Teddy?” Pete might not have realised he’d said it, or spoken at all. By the way he remained still, by the way he remained staring, Ted assumed not, but Ted heard it as clear as day.

Because he was constantly putting his sexual needs before the needs of anyone else, he had ended up hospitalised, traumatising his little brother more after what sounded to be a hellish three days. He shouldn’t have done it. He should’ve been more careful.

As much as he didn’t really want to admit it, Peter was right. Ted Spankoffski needed to change. Living like that wasn’t any fun. Jenny was gone. She married some rich asshole and she was probably living the best life he’d never be able to give her. What was the point in trying to be a sleaze when the girl he still loved wasn’t around anymore? What was the point in any of this?

There, in hospital, he came to a single conclusion. Maybe he was done being a lion. Maybe it was time to play teddy once more. After all, Pete needed him. If not for himself, then for Pete…

…yeah. No more maybes. He was gonna change. He was gonna change for Pete. If he didn’t, who knew what’d happen to him? If he lost Pete, it might actually just kill him…

He had to change. He couldn’t lose his brother like he’d lost Jenny. He needed to change, and that started with now.

Chapter Text

August came and went. There wasn’t much to say about it. Nothing memorable happened. Well, nothing that’d be considered major or nothing that’d be worth commentating on. August came with peace and the confrontation of hard truths. August allowed Peter Spankoffski an insight to what domestic life with Stephanie Lauter was prepared to be like. The calm. The storm. The domesticity of it all. It was frightening. It was new. It was rough and filled with fear but it was also a state of the unknown. It wasn’t like they’d ever done anything like that before, been so casually familial. It wasn’t like it had been his intention for it to happen either, but it had certainly been her’s.

August 7^th had been the day of The Honey Festival. It always landed on August 7^th. It was the one set date that every single person could agree on. No one, for 75 years, had plans on August 7^th. Everyone would be at The Honey Festival. Whoever didn’t attend were certified freaks. Everyone knew that. Unless there was a plausible reason to skip the festival, like sickness of Abstinence Camp as examples, the citizens of Hatchetfield were freaks for not attending one of the seven days. If they couldn’t attend the main event, August 6^th was The Honey Queen Pageant, and that was always destined to gain a crowd. Pete would’ve at least appreciated seeing The Honey Queen Pageant this year; he still had no idea who’d won. August 7^th, the day directly after, was the festival, kicking off a full seven days of music, stalls and events. There was no time to relax in Hatchetfield. The celebration was the one thing everyone looked forward to. It was the only event that mattered. August 7^th, a local holiday, the best day in Hatchetfield. Even with that knowledge, on what was supposed to be a joyful day, it had been August 7^th when Ted Spankoffski had gotten shot. It had been August 7^th when Noah Adams (according to Steph) had been decapitated and Mary Michaels had been claimed as The Axe Man’s third victim that summer. August 8^th, Pete Spankoffski was driven to St Damien’s where he had seen his brother lying in a hospital bed because all he did was think with his dick.

On the 8^th of August 2020, Peter had stormed out of that hospital room on the verge of a meltdown. He was still seething, but he couldn’t process it. It was an avoidable incident, one that any sensible person would’ve been able to dodge. Not only had it been so avoidable, how were they ever going to come back from it financially? Gunshot wounds had to be expensive, and the longer Ted stayed there, the more bills they’d rack up. Pete physically couldn’t cope. The one thing he was grateful for was that when he was leaving St Damien’s, he didn’t receive any weird looks. It was a hospital, he was sure that the nurses, doctors and whoever else was working there half expected to see someone emotionally distraught wondering the corridors and therefore, it did not get questioned.

He exited St Damien’s, pulling his phone out of his pocket where muscle memory, on his behalf, had him ringing Steph. He knew she’d pick up. He knew she knew it was serious if he skipped texting and went straight to phone calls. They hardly ever rang. She just had to know it was bad.

Like he’d predicted, she did, in fact, pick up and her voice came through the speaker, breaking him free from toxic thoughts.

“Pete? Is everything okay?”

“No.” He said at once, the quake to his voice unable to be hidden. “Steph, it’s really bad.”

“What do you need? Or can I do anything?”

“I know you’ve probably just got home but…can you come pick me up? I need…I just need to get back to the apartment.”

“You okay if you wait a little while I pack myself a bag?”

“Steph, you don’t gotta do that-“

“I thought you were the smart one out of the two of us? So, don’t be stupid.”

On the other end of the line, he heard the sound of a suitcase opening.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can…at least not now.”

“Okay. Stay on the line with me, baby. I’ll grab your suitcase as well and I’ll be right there.”

How he clung to her words. How he waited the painful fifteen minutes sat on one of the benches before he saw her jeep pull up outside of St Damien’s entrance. How, another ten minutes later, after an all too quiet drive, they were in his apartment. Correction. They were in Ted’s apartment, where Pete happened to live…Ted should’ve been there. Alas, he was not. That was how, two and a half minutes after initially getting through the front door, he’d collapsed in tears. She’d gone to put his suitcase in his room, hers currently abandoned in the car. There his girlfriend went, selflessly putting other people before herself because she cared.

Why couldn’t Ted have been like that?

By the time she returned, he was sat against the wall by the front door, knees pulled to his chest, silently sobbing. The only perks of living in a fucked up family, Pete had found out, had been he had very quickly picked up the ability to cry silently.

Fuck his family. Fuck his brother.

Steph had joined him there by the front door. Saying nothing, she’d closed the front door, knelt in front of him, and wordlessly opened her arms. He didn’t hesitate. He took off his glasses, setting them to the side in the fake plant pot Ted kept by the door. He leaned into her, his head against her shoulder, and all he could feel was her. How she was holding him so close, how one of her hands was holding the back of his head. How she wasn’t letting him go, how she wasn’t going to leave him alone. At least someone wasn’t abandoning him. At least he could trust her not to go.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said when his voice had been strong enough to talk, once he’d got his sobbing under control.

“For what?”

“For being an unexplained mess.”

She calmly ran her hand through his hair, twirling it round her finger. “Whatever happened, it’s upset you. It shouldn’t be something you feel you should hide, especially not from me. Okay? I’m here to listen if you need to talk, but that’s not the main priority right now.” She kissed his temple, holding him closer. “You’re okay, Peter.”

“No, I’m not.” He wiped his eyes. “This is pathetic…”

“You’re not pathetic.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. When had she become so delicate? “Listen to me, you’re not pathetic.”

“I might not be, but me crying on the floor of my apartment is.”

By her silence, Pete figured Steph was going back through her routine. That meant that she was  thinking about what she could say, if there was anything that might make that situation remotely better. After a few seconds, she pulled away slightly, cupping his face in her hands, letting her thumb brush fresh tears away. She settled on asking him a simple question, one that wouldn’t harm him. “If you think crying on the floor of your apartment’s pathetic, then how about we get you off the floor? Get you somewhere else? Like, how about you go sit on the couch or in your room or something? You can do that, calm yourself down while I go grab my shit? I mean, I do still gotta go grab my suitcase, so I can give you a little bit of time then, yeah?”

He nodded, leaning into her touch. “Yeah…”

“Yeah. Let’s get you up.” She slid her hand into his, helping him off the floor. There, before him, he stood there trembling. “Where do you wanna go? Your room?”

He nodded.

“Think you can get yourself there?”

Again, he nodded.

She let him go. “Alright. I won’t be long, I promise. I’m gonna go grab my suitcase and I’ll be right back up. I’ll come find you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and with that, she had left.

When she returned, he was curled up in his bed. The door shut, curtains were drawn and Stephanie Lauter, with Pete Spankoffski’s permission, climbed into that same bed beside him. They fell back into a position they knew too well. Her arms around him, his back pressed to her stomach, butterfly kisses placed along the left side of his face. Her cautiousness. Her care…even in his semi-drained state, he knew she was home.

Stephanie Lauter fuelled him like no other person could. Home. She was home. She was the person he came back to when things got too hard. She was the key able to unlock aspects of him he hadn’t even realised were there. She was the conductor and he was the melody she produced. Her's. He was her’s, and in that moment, he had never been so secure in their relationship. Pete turned, catching her in a kiss.

With tears finally drying up, his focus turning to something other than his bastard brother. Her arms round his waist, he moved from lying to his side to lying on his back. She brushed her hair out of her face, sweeping it over her shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way of them. His hand caught the small of her back, pulling her closer. Quickly on top of him, he cupped her face and he let himself drown in her. He’d rather drown in her than die any other way. His girlfriend. His beautiful girlfriend. Though his eyes were shut, he could still feel the tears he was trying to banish. He needed it to stop. He needed to stop...but he didn’t want to.

“Tell me what you want, Pete.” She said, straddling him.

Peter reopened his eyes, watching as she, in all her dominant glory, pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. How her shirt lifted up just slightly so he could see her stomach. How he could see that determination in her eyes. Her strength, her comfort…just her. “I-“ He blushed. “I…can’t really see you, I left my glasses out there-“

With a playful taint to her sigh, she got off the bed, got off him and walked out. She returned, crookedly placing his glasses on his face, resuming to straddling him. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what you want, Peter. I don’t want to overwhelm you more than you already are but-“

“No. No, I want this,” he told her. “…I need something to clear my thoughts and you kinda rocked my shit a few days ago and…we could-“

“You want a redo?”

He could feel himself go red as he nodded. He still wasn’t used to being so open with her, or with anyone. His first real relationship with Stephanie Lauter and she did all of this to him. Dammit. “Just something to clear my mind-“

“…you sure you’ll be okay?”

“About this? Yeah. Just…need a distraction.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward until she was on top of him, her right hand on his hip. “And you’d better not hold back.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, sweetheart, try to relax. Let me take your mind off things.”

Take his mind off things she did because, by the end of it, he lay there in his boxers, her arms wrapped around him. His mind was certainly clearer, and he had a better way to process the information he was given but he didn’t feel particularly good he’d had to go through with sex for a final result. He hated his brother. In that moment, he hated his brother, hated the fact he was often compared to him because he wasn’t his brother. He was not Ted…but he was a Spankoffski, and turns out, Spankoffskis were destined to fall back to sex when things got hard.

The difference between him and his brother, though, was he was unafraid to talk about the difficulties of life. Sure, he was terrified to ask Steph if she was mad at him, but it wouldn’t be a forever thing. He would ask her about it one day. Maybe. Eventually. For the main part, he wasn’t afraid to talk to her. Talking resolved their issues. Talking cured his stress. So, staring at his bedroom wall, he spoke, breaking the silence.

“…I think I’m ready to talk.”

“I’m listening,” she said immediately. “I’m right here.”

How could someone be so viciously forward to then become so soft moments later? He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve her at all. He didn’t deserve her and her comfort. He didn’t deserve to be hers, but there she was. She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d need to remember that. Steph didn’t lie. If she said she wasn’t going anywhere then she wasn’t. He needed to trust himself.

Knowing it was easier to speak the truth rather than dodge it, he plucked up all the courage he could to break the news to Steph.

“Ted was shot at The Honey Festival last night.”

“What?” She asked, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. “I’m sorry, what?!”

He rolled over, looking at her. “He…he was shot. Not necessarily at The Honey Festival but-but it was weird, what he told me, and I’m kinda really distressed about it.”

“Talk to me. I’m here.”

“Ted…your dad’s assistant or whatever took me into St Damien’s. She wouldn’t tell me where we were going but she took me to a room. I stepped inside, no. I got told I was being picked up at 5, then I stepped inside and Ted was there, in the hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of machines…an ECG was the one I recognised and-“

“ECG?”

“Uh, it stands for electrocardiography. It’s a…a heart monitor, Steph.”

“…Oh, shit.”

“And I sit down and basically, I can’t really remember what happened but uh, he told me that he went to The Honey Festival, got picked up by some woman, went back to a house in Pinebrook and…he got shot four times.” He looked at her. “And then I had a panic attack because it was…it was too similar to your migraine and-“

The realisation hit her. “Oh my god…” Subconsciously, she ran her hand over her forehead as if she were nursing it. “So…so it wasn’t an onset migraine it was Wiggly showing me…”

Pete didn’t need her to finish her sentence. He knew that they were both thinking the same thing. Wiggly had shown her snapshots of Ted getting shot. Neither of them needed to verbalise that. They were both thinking the same thing. Still, he nodded, speaking up again. “…and I’m pissed off, with Ted…I don’t even know if he’ll be home for the start of senior year and-“

“I’m sure he will be.”

“But what if he isn’t? Steph, he really didn’t look well and if he gets worse-“

She pulled him back into her arms. This time, his arms wrapped around her abdomen, clutching the back of her shirt. “…we’re gonna hold out hope. That’s what we’re gonna do. I know it’s hard, but it’s what we gotta do. Okay?”

He nodded, a muffled “mhmm” coming from him.

“Okay.” She kissed his hair, letting her fingers run through it again. “I won’t go anywhere. I’m staying right here. You’ve got me and whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

Burying his face in her shirt, he took a breath. “…can I ask you a completely unrelated question?”

“You know you can ask me anything.”

“Cool uh…are you mad at me?”

“Why would you think that?”

His breathing jolted. “Because…when we were in the woods and…when we came out the woods, you shut in on yourself and I don’t know if it’s something I did. I mean, I was the one who ran in the woods to begin with and-“

“Peter,” she ran her hand through his hair again. “It wasn’t you.”

“Then what happened?”

She tensed, ever so slightly. He felt her tense and he knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately. To his surprise, she didn’t avoid the question. She confronted it. “…something happened in the woods. Before we fell through to this world or dimension or whatever…it’s something I need to process which is why I haven’t told you but when I’ve processed it, we’ll talk.”

“But you’re not mad at me?”

“Not in the slightest.” She kissed his forehead. “We’re okay, Peter. We’re okay.”

Pete didn’t believe her. Maybe he should’ve done so.

As it turned out, when Steph had said she wasn’t going anywhere, she’d really meant it. Not once did she leave the apartment, not unless he did. She didn’t go back to her home in Pinebrook. She stayed with him, hardly ever leaving his side. For the next few weeks, she stayed by his side. They slept in the same bed, she did the laundry, she cooked, cleaned…he owed his life to her. He’d been so low and she’d stayed right there with him. Seventeen. They were seventeen, but if a life with her was as amazing as those few weeks had been then fuck it, he might as well marry her there and then.

It was only while his mental health was bad. When he started getting better, he helped her with chores but it was the little things she did that had him swooning harder than he’d ever done before. She made sure his blood sugar was level. She made sure that he got his testosterone. She took care of him because he couldn’t…to think once upon a time he figured no one would ever love him and there he was, being taken care of by Stephanie Fucking Lauter.

How the hell had that happened?

Before he could figure out an answer, senior year came around. Ted had came home from St Damien’s but he still wasn’t well. While expected to make a full recovery physically, Peter could see his brother wasn’t doing the greatest mentally but with little to no friends, he knew Ted wouldn’t talk about it. That was what he got for being a horny bastard, Pete supposed. Even so, when Ted came home, he hadn’t questioned why Stephanie Lauter was suddenly living in their house. He hadn’t questioned anything. What he had done was wish them both a good first day at school for senior year before disappearing to his bedroom where he now spent most of his time. Typical. Ted came home two weeks ago and Pete had hardly seen him since. Seen or heard him. He’d been quiet, too quiet. Sometimes, Pete still thought he was dead or dying. Had it not been for him entering Ted’s room to give his brother the food Steph cooked (which was amazing, by the way,) then he’d be sure Ted was still in St Damien’s. A mere figment of his imagination…

Steph insisted she drive Pete to school. He’d told her no at first, told her that it’d only draw attention to him, that he wanted to be invisible and yet, he still found himself in the passenger seat of her jeep. Fuck, he loved her. He loved her so much. If only he wasn’t so cowardly, then he’d tell her. He’d tell her he loved her one day. One day he hoped was sooner rather than later…but that had been only been the beginning of standards set for senior year.

Two weeks into the new school year, the third week before the big game, he found himself sitting in home room, Steph by his side. He’d told Steph he was reworking some of his notes. It was a lie. Even a quick glance would let Steph know he was venting in his poetry journal again, but too ashamed to confess he still used it, he told her a lie. A minute lie, but one that had left him feeling guilty nonetheless. For the main part, it was relatively quiet. Average, Pete could go as far to say…but he knew, as soon as he said it, that things would change.

On the table in front of him sat Ruth Fleming directly next to their other friend, Richie. She shoved her bag under the table, slapping her tech folder on the desk. With a mucus-filled snarl, she looked at Pete. “Home room is supposed to be used for essentials, Pete! You’re being too quiet!”

“I’m tired,” he said, not looking up from his journal. “Where’d you even go anyway?”

“Uh, new guidance counsellor wanted to speak to me.” She gasped, looking at Richie. “She’s so sexy.”

Steph lifted her head slightly. “We’ve got a new guidance councillor? What happened to Miss Woods?”

“Apparently she was murdered.” Richie said, looking up from whatever manga he was reading. “People are saying she was murdered in the woods which was uh, ironic, I suppose.”

“Yeah, but thank god she’s gone. All she did was preach Christianity on me. Like, take one look at me and try to get me not to think of sex, I fuckin’ dare you.” She shook her head. “Anyway, this new guidance councillor. I don’t know what it is about Hatchetfield High but they sure as fuck like hiring gingers except the newbie is genuinely sexy. I think I got hard at the sight of her.”

“Charming, Ruth.” Steph said, pursing her lips.

“I’m being serious! She’s the only person I’ve ever seen who can pull double denim off! She’s so hot! The next time I get fucked up by Max Jagerman, I’m going straight to her…she’s so hot.”

“Wait,” Pete interrupted. “Miss Woods got murdered?”

“Yeah. In the woods. That’s what The Gazette said anyway. The Gazette and Action News so.”

“…what was her first name again?”

“I’m pretty sure it was Jeri. But single R-I?” Richie asked, looking to Ruth for confirmation who nodded.

“And anyway, wasn’t she a counsellor at Abstinence Camp?” She very slowly turned around. “You two went to Abstinence Camp!”

Steph leaned her head back on Pete’s shoulder. “Yeah, and it was Hell, and quite honestly, we’d prefer not to talk about it.”

She pouted, snarling again. “All I want is someone to tell me what went down at Abstinence Camp and the only two people who went won’t tell me!”

“I thought you wanted someone to touch you, Ruth?” Richie asked, folding his arms.

“Well obviously! But that’s not the point!” She leaned on Steph and Pete’s desk. “Do you know what went down at camp? Why did it get cancelled in three days? Why-“

“We don’t know anything.” Steph said coolly. “We were in camp, Mary, Gabe and Noah went missing and three days in, we got told that camp was cancelled. We don’t know what went on.”

“I read in The Gazette-“ Richie started just for Ruth to cut him off.

“It’s 2020. Why the fuck are you reading The Gazette?”

“Look. It’s my uncle’s and he left it open on the table. I got curious, and when you see murder in the headline, you wanna read!”

“Your uncle is a dork, Richie.”

“Why are you telling me this now? I thought it was common knowledge?”

“Because he just is!”

“Anyway.” He shifted, leaning his back against the wall. “I read in The Gazette that apparently Gabe, Mary and Noah were murdered as well…coroner said something about there being axe wounds?”

“Axe wounds?” Ruth turned back to Richie. “What? Like Lumberaxe? He’s not real, don’t be stupid.”

“I’m reiterating what I saw in the paper!” He gently punched her.

In true theatre kid fashion, she recoiled, gasping. “I’m being bullied!”

“You’re not being bullied, Ruth.” Steph told her, wrapping her arm around Pete’s waist.

“I literally am though! I am literally being so bullied right now! He punched me!” She grabbed her binder, going to stand up. “I’m gonna go and tell the sexy new guidance councillor you’re a bully-“

“Stay sat.” Richie grabbed her wrist, keeping her in place.

Pete, like Richie, was also now leaning against the wall. “Richie, why would you touch her? She’s gonna be a freak about it.”

Again, Ruth gasped. “Excuse me! I am not a freak! See! Now I’m being bullied by Pete! All I’ve got is Steph!”

“Steph’s my girlfriend, I’d prefer if you didn’t steal her. I’m already losing enough people round me.”

“Oh yeah! Weren’t you two also almost murdered?” She asked, shaking herself free of Richie’s grasp. He curled his lip up, turning around to face the desk behind them. “I heard that when the HFPD were sent out to Idontwannabang, they found a destroyed cabin?”

“Yeah. Destroyed boys’ washroom and-why do you even care?” Steph asked her.

“Because! It’s drama! And I’m a theatre kid! I’m all about it!”

“That’s…that’s really sad, Ruth.”

“I’m depressed.”

“You should talk to the guidance counsellor over it.” Richie set his manga in his lap. “What’s the newbie’s name anyway?”

“Miss Holliday.”

“Miss Holliday.” Richie repeated. “…why do I feel like I know her from somewhere?”

“I dunno but trust me, when you see her, you will get hard.”

“Ruth, don’t be so gross.” Pete said, closing his eyes. “I’m trying to survive homeroom without needing to be reminded of your sexual desires, especially when it comes down to a member of staff.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but a naughty school girl needs to be put in her place! Pete, you’re a Spankoffski, have you even watched porn!” She looked up at him, noticing how he was going red. “You’re silence speaks volumes.”

“Can we not do this?!”

“You’re so boring! The only interesting thing to ever happen to you happens over the summer and you won’t talk about it! What am I meant to do, Peter?! I’m desperate for something!” She snapped her head back around. “Richie. Touch me again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you all want me to die?!”

“You won’t die if you’re not touched, Ruth.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look,” Steph finally spoke up, looking at Ruth. “What happened to me and Pete over the summer is something we don’t wanna talk about because it was openly traumatic. We’ve already had Action News pestering us about what happened at camp and it’s not just us. We’re favoured by the media because of my dad. We don’t want to talk about it and we wish for you to respect our decision not to talk about it, okay?!”

Ruth scrunched her face up. “You’re no fun.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s that we’re both traumatised by what we went through and it isn’t something we want to talk about right now.”

“Okay, but when you do wanna talk about it, you will, right?”

“Sure, Ruth.”

Ruth fist-pumped before looking back to Richie. “…so how about we pick up from where we started.”

She tried to grab his hand but he pulled his knees up on to his chair, hiding himself from her. “Anyway. Have you guys heard about Grace?”

Pete reopened his eyes. “…Chasity?”

“Yeah. Have you guys heard about who she’s with?”

“With as in…romantically?” Steph chimed in.

Richie nodded. “I just wanna confirm that you were there at Abstinence Camp with Grace?”

“We weren’t in the same group, but I shared a dorm with her…it went as well as you can expect.”

“Okay so…I don’t know what happened between Abstinence Camp and now but Grace Chasity is literally dating Max Jagerman.”

All heads turned to face Richie, everyone perking up.

“You’re joking,” Pete said. “Grace Chasity? As in Grace “I Don’t Wanna Bang Anyone But Jesus” Chastity is dating Max Jagerman, the quarterback of the Nighthawks?”

Richie nodded. “He drove her to school this morning and everything. I saw because my uncle dropped me off. Me and my cousin, actually…he’s more annoying that I remember.”

“Your cousin is just a little guy! Don’t bully him!” Ruth said, punching Richie’s arm.

“I get being autistic and everything, because same, but he is hyperfixated on the colour blue. Firstly, how?! Secondly, he also claims he can stop time.”

“Wait, I think I know who you’re on about.” Steph said, looking at him. “I’ve seen him in the halls. The tiny little guy? Daniel? That’s his name, right?”

“Daniel Wazy in all his glory. His dad’s a freak and my uncle hates him but…I’m kinda all he’s got…he’s a freshman and I’m kinda worried about him but also, I don’t care, but I do care about Grace and Max.”

“Now this is hot shit.” Ruth clasped her hands together. “Do you think they’ve fucked?”

“Of course they haven’t, it’s Grace.” Richie scoffed.

“Yeah, but Max coulda changed her! Fuck, even I could change Grace!”

“You say that about everyone though, Ruth.”

“And it applies with Grace Chasity as well!”

Richie nudged her away from him. “That’s at least what I saw. I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

“Don’t we have homeroom with them?” Pete asked. “…Actually, isn’t it coincidental that we’re all in the same homeroom this year?”

“It’s fucking great. I can actually be annoying and talk to people now.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird…”

“What, as weird as Grace and Max?” Richie shook his head. “I’ll enjoy this while I can. At least the attention’s been taken off of us for a while.”

Richie was right. The attention had been taken off of them. Even for a while, it was nice to know that they weren’t a central target anymore. Right as the four of them settled with the rumour fresh in their minds, the door to the classroom opened and in walked none other than the hottest couple of Hatchetfield High.

Grace Chasity walked in first. Strutted, one could say. There was a newfound confidence to her. She was clutching a black binder in her arms decorated in stickers. She was a white long-sleeved shirt with a peter pan collar with a pale purple and green argyle sweater vest over the top. Partnered with it, Grace was also wearing pale blue jeans with slight flares, cherries embroidered on the bottom. Surprisingly, she was a few inches taller than they could remember her being, and that would be down to the shoes she was wearing. Platform shoes. Purple platform shoes with holographic butterfly wings on one side, left for the left shoe and right for the right one. She had a purple ribbon tied in a bow underneath her collar, her signature pink WWJD bracelet on her left hand and a black hair tie on her right. Her hair, like it had been at Abstinence Camp, was pulled back and secured with purple butterfly clips. She was the first one in.

Behind her, though, and following closely, was none other than Hatchetfield’s favourite gossip machine. The root of every rumour, the king of the social hierarchy, Maxwell Jagerman. As suave and confident as ever, he brushed a hand through his blond curls, eyes fixed on Grace. He was wearing a grey and blue raglan shirt, part of his standard uniform, it seemed, untucked. Alongside his usual blue jeans and white trainers, there wasn’t much else to comment about him. He seemed painfully normal. Painfully normal in the way he was staring Grace down. Painfully normal in the way he had his varsity jacket swung over his shoulder to remind everyone who was boss. A threat at Brad Callahan, they supposed. He seemed normal, though…

…until he looked at Steph.

In those hazel eyes of Max Jagerman’s, Steph saw nothing but emptiness. At least, that’s what he’d clearly been trying to get at. He was not emotionless, despite what many might think. In fact, he was furious. She could see it in the way his eyes flickered. Could see it in the way his eyes locked with hers. Could see it in the way that the veins of his eyes were a brighter red than usual. Could see it in his skin, pale and almost sickly if one knew what they were looking for. Steph knew. Steph knew what she was looking for. There, her worst thoughts were confirmed.

The bulging blue veins hidden underneath his curls. The emptiness in his eyes. The snarl in his grin he shot her as he walked past to sit at the back with Grace…he wasn’t just angered. He was enraged…and he could remember.

She recognised that smirk. She recognised that look in his eyes. It had been the very same one that had stared back at her in the boys’ washroom of Abstinence Camp. It was enough to make her blood run cold, enough for her to grab Pete’s hand.

Whatever she thought she’d imagined at camp had now been confirmed, and she needed to talk to Pete about it. After all, by the slight pain blossoming in her head, she had a sickening feeling that her gut instincts were true.

Chapter Text

Moments of deliberation followed. Moments where Steph’s main focus was trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Max Jagerman had not been alive when he’d looked at her while walking to his seat. He’d been rather ghostly. Hollow, one could go as far to say. He’d been staring at her with a blank round of anger locked and loaded in his eyes. There was a bloodied taint to his smile. There was so much wrong with that. He was alive. He was alive and apparently dating Grace Chasity now. None of this was good. Absolutely none of this was good. In those hazel eyes of Max Jagerman’s, all she had seen was emptiness, but not in the way of emotionless. In the way of death. It didn’t take long for Steph to put two and two together. It really didn’t. The enraged physically body of Max Jagerman sat on the other side of the room, his arm wrapped around Grace Chasity, and Steph had the haunting feeling that he was still looking at her.

Another sharp twang pulsed through her head, one that forced her to show a wince that she would usually hide. Pete must have felt her tense. He must have because soon, his arm was back around her, holding her in that protective grasp he’d taken to use as a default. She could feel him looking down at her. She could feel him trying to decipher what was wrong, why she’d tensed. He didn’t need to speak, she knew him well enough to the point she knew when she could feel whenever his gaze was on her.

“I’m fine,” she told him in a pitiful attempt to reassure him. “My head’s just hurting a little, that’s all. Probably because the lights here are shit.”

“Oo! If your head’s hurting, skip the nurse’s office and go straight to Miss Holliday! She’s so sexy!” Ruth interrupted and Pete stared at her.

“Really, Ruth? Can you not be gross for just a second? This could actually be really serious and you’re being all sex-obsessed again!”

“I’m not being gross! You’ll agree with me when you see her! She is sexy!”

“I’ll be the judge of that but I’m pretty sure my taste in women vary to yours.” He slid his hand in Steph’s, trying to provide an additional level of comfort. “Is it a migraine or…just a normal headache, do you think?”

She gave herself time to construct a truthful answer. It wasn’t quite a migraine, but it also definitely wasn’t a normal headache either. Maybe it was the beginning of a migraine? Fuck, she couldn’t deal with another migraine so soon, especially not one of the prophetic ones. When she had signed her life away, she hadn’t signed up for prophetic styled visions with a side of dizzying migraines. Without a clear answer in mind, how was she supposed to communicate it to him that no, it might not be a migraine, but this headache had struck itself up because she’d locked eyes with Max Jagerman. How was she supposed to tell him that without sounding like a member of the clinically insane? Pre Abstinence Camp, she’d have taken more time to worry about it but after the things they’d endured together, she realised seeming insane to him was the least of her worries. She might as well get her point across now while she still could. She tapped his hand, gesturing for him to turn his chair around while she did the same.

With their backs now turned to Ruth and Richie, Pete leaned over, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You okay?”

“I’m gonna say something, and it’ll probably still sound insane, but I don’t think anything is more insane than what we experienced this summer so. Do with this information as you will.” She looked up to him, keeping her voice to a quiet tone. “Have you seen Max?”

“I think everyone’s seen Max today, Steph.”

“No, like, really looked at him.”

“I rather wouldn’t look at Max.”

“I’m trying to make a point here, Pete. I need to know if it’s just me seeing this shit or not.”

Pete let his eyes flick over. “I’m looking now…am I supposed to see something wrong with him? He just…looks like Max. Like how he’s always looked.”

Steph looked over again. All she noticed was how Max was too busy talking to Grace to notice them looking over. She was half relieved. She didn’t need any more attention drawn on to the two of them than what there already was. She was sure the rumours of her and Pete being in the washroom together at camp had started to leak to the mainland. She expected people now knew about them. Oh well. She’d deal with that later. Right now, she didn’t need more attention to be pressed on to her with the attention-giver being Max. She needed to stay on the downlow for as long as possible. “Right, okay, so, when we made eye contact when he walked in the room he…” Her voice dropped to a complete whisper as she leaned further towards Pete. “He didn’t seem human. He seemed dead.”

“What?!”

“Shh!” She said, gripping his hand. “You can’t do that!”

“What do you mean he seemed dead?!”

“As in his skin was too white, his veins were too visible and his eyes were so empty-“

Pete looked directly back up at Max then, as did Steph.

They didn’t get so lucky the second time around. Despite the fact he was sitting on the other side of the room, the king of Hatchetfield High did not hesitate to look over at the two of them. Except…he didn’t do it normally. He still had his arm wrapped around Grace, but while he spoke something neither of them could hear, he moved mechanically. Slowly. Unnaturally, like he was being pupeteered. Though his body stayed facing forwards, his neck turned 90 degrees to the right. His head tilted slightly at a jarring angle so he could see Pete better and, once again, his face contorted into that smile of his the two of them had only been able to witness through a hole in the wall at camp. His smile didn’t just appear like it would with a normal person. It was as if someone had pushed his cheeks up so he was forcibly smiling. Max’s hazel eyes were unnaturally wide, filled with fury, and they also locked with Pete’s. Then, after noticing how Pete recoiled ever so slightly, Max Jagerman lifted up his free hand which had been resting on the desk. As slowly as he’d moved to look at them, and way too softly for the quarterback of the Hatchetfield Nighthawks, Max waggled his fingers in a wave.

Pete understood his girlfriend then. She didn’t need to say anything for her to convince him something else was going on under that guise of his. He saw it too. The paleness to Max Jagerman that, under normal circumstance, would be an immediate trip to the nurse’s office and then home. His bloodshot eyes and his protruding veins. How there seemed to be blood attached to that smile of his. How he was so…empty.

A shudder traipsing up his spine, Pete dropped his eyes back down so he could look at his girlfriend. “…I have a horrible feeling about that.”

“Me and you both.” Steph turned back around, looking at Pete. “Here me out, sweetheart.”

“I mean, you said it, anything’s fucking possible, especially after what we went through.”

“I really don’t think he’s the same Max Jagerman we’ve known for a while. I think that…I think that not only is The Axe Man but I think that he’s-“

“He’s like us now. Isn’t he?” Pete asked, voice dropping to a lower level if that was even possible.

“In which way do you mean?”

“As in…he’s like us in the trans-dimensional way. Isn’t he?”

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “…yeah. At least, that’s what I’ve been thinking because that Max Jagerman, whoever he is, he isn’t human. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead or something but-“

“You’re right. He isn’t alive. That’s…no one seems to be questioning his physical state though which is concerning as fuck, but…I guess they wouldn’t really know what to look for. I mean, he’s always been pale and he’s always looked sort of dead. He always looks tired anyway so-“

“Exactly. So he’d be able to get away with this kind of shit because everyone’s grown accustomed to that being the norm with him. Except. He can’t do that with us because we know what were looking for. And, unfortunately to us, we know what we’re looking for because he literally fucking died.”

Pete tipped his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes. “I can’t deal with this. Steph, I’m not cut out for this kind of life.”

“Neither am I-“

“You make it seem easy. Your dad’s the mayor! You’re used to this kinda catastrophic shit!”

“I’m not used to a literal fucking ghost person following me around!”

“It’s not a ghost person, it’s just a ghost. Ghosts are people too, or the souls of people who were once living-“

“Still! When dad told me that weird shit goes down in Hatchetfield, I didn’t expect it to happen to me!”

“Yeah, but you’re an easy target regardless! Your dad is the mayor! Of course this kinda shit would happen to you! And, in turn, me being your boyfriend, I’m being swept along…” Pete exhaled, puffing his cheeks as he did so, trying to control his frantic breathing. “Fuck…this isn’t good, Steph.”

“Trust me, I know, and I’m trying to think of what the hell we could possibly do…I didn’t realise he crossed over either…how could he have crossed over?”

“I don’t know. How did we cross over?! Like, it wasn’t even supposed to happen to us. We fell through the barrier of reality!”

“Correction, Pete. You pushed me, we ended up falling through the floor, back through The Black and then through the barrier of reality. That wasn’t my fault.”

“I wasn’t gonna stand there and watch as you became a shadow of the person you once were! Steph, we had a date planned that afternoon! I wasn’t going to stand there and watch as you succumbed to that bastard.”

“Right- can we not do this here? It’s the first day of senior year-“

“It is not the first day of senior year, Steph. That was a couple weeks ago-“

“Whatever, Pete! It doesn’t matter if it’s the first day, first week or the first semester! I don’t need us fighting right now.”

“We’re not fighting,” Pete was quick to confirm.

“Aren’t we? Sure seemed like we were.”

“I’m not fighting with you.” He moved closer to her. “We’re not fighting.”

She watched as he held his arm back out to her. Even if it was unclear whether they were fighting or not, she leaned back into him. Once again, her eyes looked back up to Max and Grace. Max wasn’t looking over at them anymore, more concerned on his supposed girlfriend. Much to their joy, Grace hadn’t shot a look their way since she’d sat down. That was good. Neither Pete or Steph had it in them to deal with Grace Chasity today. Huffing, Steph spoke again. “I’ve got class with that asshole next.”

“How do you know that?”

“What do you mean ‘how do I know that?’ You said it yourself, it’s not the first goddamn day of senior. We’ve been in classes a couple weeks now, babe. I know he’s in my English class at least and that’s the one I’ve got right now.” She shut her eyes, rubbing her temple. “I’m hoping this headache dies, though. I wanna at least get through the day. If I’m gonna migraine, please, eldritch deity in my mind, let me migraine later. I need my wits about me so I can concentrate.”

“But, hey. We’ve got Mulberry together later on so, if today does go to shit and you do migraine, it’s not gonna be all that bad. We’ll be able to see each other, won’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.” She looked up at him. “I’ll save you a seat at the back.”

“Eh, more of an at-the-front kinda guy myself.”

“If we get the back, then the footballers and the cheerleaders won’t get a chance at a spot. I mean, who’s gonna ask me to move?”

“…good point.” He looked down to his beat down sneakers. “I’ve never sat at the back before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, babe.” She said, resting her head on his shoulder. “So. What are we gonna do? Because as far as I am concerned, the ghost of Maxwell Jagerman from the last universe we were in has crossed over as well.”

“I mean, maybe he’ll ask you about it in your next lesson?”

“Why would he do that? It’s risky enough us talking about it in this kind of way. It’s real risky, and I’m almost certain Ruth and Richie can still hear us despite the chatter in the room but…I don’t know. I don’t think he will be asking me about anything The Black and White related or anything about crossing dimensions.” 

“Look, I’m just saying that it might still be a possibility-“

“A possibility, but a weird one and-“

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Richie suddenly asked, making both Steph and Pete whip around.

“Nothing,” the two said in unison.

Ruth folded her arms. “You are both liars. You’re whispering. You’re keeping secrets. Ya know, if you’re talking about how sexy I am, I already know that-“

“N-no, not- it’s not anything like that, Ruth.” Pete said, turning his chair back around. “We were uh…we were talking about Max.”

“What? Jagerman?” She looked over. “I mean, fair game. He’s hot as shit too…God I wish I wasn’t such a loser. I want him to fuck me-“

“Does anything about him seem...off…to you two today?” Steph asked them, trying to introduce the conversation topic as casually as possible. She didn’t need to be telling the two of them about her and Pete’s past. They didn’t need to know.

Both Ruth and Richie glanced over at Max. They stared for a while but shook their heads.

Richie was the first to look back to Steph. “Are you okay? He looks fine.”

“He doesn’t seem…pale? Or sickly to you?”

He shook his head once more. “Nope. He seems just like Max Jagerman. You know? The cocky bastard who makes our lives living hell just because we exist.”

“He’s as sexy as ever.” Ruth stated. “I would let that man do some serious things to me-“

Luckily for them, the bell for the next class cut Ruth off. Though she groaned, Steph grabbed her bag from underneath the table, standing up. “We’re all meeting back up for break later, right?”

“Obviously,” she said, grabbing her binder. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks.” She turned to Pete, gently cupping his cheek. “And I’ll come meet you after class, okay?”

He looked at her, nodding, a faint blush forming on his face. “Okay…”

“Okay.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll text you.”  

“I will not text you back because, even though I’m a senior, I respect the rules too much.”

She laughed, that smile of her’s forming once more. “Cool. See you, Pete. Good luck.”

“Thanks, I got a feeling we’re gonna need it.”

So, Steph exited the classroom, beginning to head down the hallway. She could have sworn she heard footsteps running down the hallway to greet her, but she decided on ignoring that. She put it down to a trick of her mind. She was already paranoid, she wouldn’t be surprised if she started hearing things. But, much to her misfortune, it turned out someone had bolted down the hallway to walk with her. She looked beside her, expecting to see either Ruth or Richie. Steph knew they were headed in that direction as well so she wouldn’t have been surprised about it. But, when she looked, she noticed she was standing by someone much taller than her. Someone much taller, and someone a lot more tense.

Up close, there Steph Lauter was disappointed to note that Ruth and Richie had been right. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Maxwell Jagerman. He was still the asshole quarterback who ruled high school, the one everyone loved to hate. He was still pale, but not in the sickly sort. He still looked dead, but dead tired, not lifeless. She caught a quick glimpse of the look in his eyes. He was focused. Determined. Enraged in a different sort of way. Not infuriated but enraged…ah. Testosterone. How she’d never understand it. Thank God Pete hadn’t become brutish when he went on T.

He had become an entirely different person, though.

She had dated both Peter Spankoffski and Maxwell Jagerman, and now she was beginning to see the similarities and differences between them. When it came to similarities, they were both tall, and that was as far as it got. She’d dated Max as a form of status. He’d provided her a blanket of security that she could fall back on when rumours became too harsh or when life was roundhouse kicking her in the jaw. She hadn’t dated Max for his looks or for his personality. She cared for him. She cared for him deeply and she hoped he still knew that. She wouldn’t hesitate if he asked to come and stay with her for a few because his home life was awful. She already knew his homelife was awful. She knew the extent of it, she didn’t need to hear him repeat it back to her. He had a shitty dad. He had a shitty life. He could fall back on to her and, to the best of her ability, she’d protect him. Sure, she wouldn’t deny he was attractive. He had everything most girls would look for in a guy. Nice eyes, abs and a rumoured great time in the bedroom. However, she never had been into jocks. She’d always been into the geekier sort of kind.

That was why she was now dating Peter Spankoffski. It only made sense as to why she should. She’d fallen for him in many more ways than one. Romantically and physically when he had physically tackled her from one dimension to the next. He always said he wasn’t athletic but there he’d been, tackling her like he was the quarterback…goddamn. Her boyfriend really was fucking hot. Even so, her feelings for Pete hadn’t started then.

They had started back when they were sixteen. She’d technically been fifteen, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t been turning sixteen a few weeks after anyway. She’d remembered being so scared back on that fateful October 13^th 2018. She’d gone into school to work on this science project. She’d already hated the idea of having to attend Hatchetfield High for Saturday school but her partner was known to have a 100% show rate and she needed that extra help. To her demise, when she’d arrived at Hatchetfield High, she was quick to find that her science partner had ditched on her and horrifically, people were singing and dancing uncontrollably. She’d hidden herself in the cabinet with the Bunsen burners so she could at least have some sort of weapon if the singing bastards found her. When the door had opened, she’d been prepared. She’d hit Peter Spankoffski with a Bunsen burner. The next thing she knew was he was getting her out the school, they were in hospital together and then…and she’d been murdered by Jenny, who, in turn, had been infected by Ted. That was how their very first time together had gone.

The second time had been the one where she’d gotten the courage to finally ask him on a date. They’d been expected to go on a date and she had to go and ruin it. It hadn’t been her fault, though. Not when her father, possessed by the wrathful insanity of the material-obsessed god, had driven her out to The Witchwoods, told her to dig and left her with the consequences. How was she supposed to know that, in exchange for the world becoming at peace with itself once more, that she’d never feel peace again? Not really. She was a product of Wiggog Y’Wrath. She was his direct link to the world and she hated it…

…but had it not been for Wiggog Y’Wrath, she wouldn’t have had Pete. On the third round, the one she’d consider their luckiest, she picked up right back from where they started. October 2018 where they landed on Earth. The plush comfort of green grass under their hands, the chill of the autumn wind in their hair. She made no effort in trying to get to know him. He quickly became her friend and, even quicker, became something more to her. Max was an afterthought most days. Pete Spankoffski was her front and centre, the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing she thought about when she let herself fall asleep. Officially, it was no surprise that it was their upcoming one year anniversary that December. December 24^th to be exact. She wasn’t changing anything for the world.

So, sure, she would go as far as to say she loved her boyfriend. She loved his face, loved his hair, loved how he was so much more confident on testosterone. She loved the way he’d get all enthusiastic about his dorky little subjects she could only half understand. She loved his patience. She loved the way his hands felt on her body. She loved the annoyed little sigh he’d do whenever he was beginning to get frustrated. She loved his obsession with hot chocolate. She loved the way his body moved under her lead. She loved his generosity, his empathy, his heart…she loved him. Though she didn’t quite feel like it was right to tell him that, she could at least confirm it with herself. She loved him. She loved Peter Murphy Spankoffski…all she could hope was he loved her back.

But, Peter wasn’t with her. She was there beside Max Jagerman, her ex-boyfriend. She had no idea if they were supposed to be exes or not in that dimension, so she’d play along with whatever he clearly wanted to tell her. Hopefully, she’d be able to put her stone-cold bitch abilities to good use.

Max shoved his hands in the pockets of his Nighthawks jacket, a slick grin on his face. “What do you think about my new girlfriend then?”

“What? Grace Chasity?” She shrugged. “You can have her. I don’t care. I’ve got a boyfriend of my own. If you’re trying to make me jealous, it isn’t working.”

“Grace is your friend, isn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call her my friend. She’s friends with Pete, Ruth and Richie but she isn’t friends with me.”

“You guys didn’t really notice that she didn’t come sit by you in homeroom this morning. You didn’t even notice how she wouldn’t turn an eye to the four of you.”

“Because we didn’t care and had bigger issues to deal with.”

“But you agree, we make a good couple, don’t we?”

“I think you dating Grace Chasity has to be the weirdest thing to happen this year. And no, I don’t mean the school year. I mean, in 2020 generically. It actually beats you randomly doing an internship with The Metzgers.”

“Glad to see you didn’t forget.”

“You were strutting round the outskirts of Abstinence Camp in a cropped Virginity Rocks! shirt and slutty shorts you’d only see guys wearing in the 80s!”

“And? I looked good doing it. Or, what, do you got an issue with guys dressing the way they want?”

“Obviously I don’t. Max, don’t be stupid.”

“I don’t think I’m the stupid one.” He held his head high. “We’re in class together next, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. With Berry.”

“Ah. Miss Berry…you like the class?”

“It’s fine.”

“I mean, I like it. She’s a nice teacher…” Max looked down to Steph, noticing how she tenderly touched her forehead. “What’s the matter Stephie? Got a little bit of a headache?”

“Yeah…I mean, it’s fine. I’ll take some meds when we’re sat down.”

“On a scale of 1-10, how bad do you think it is?”

“It’s a 3. It’s not a big deal.”

He noticed she wasn’t looking at him, so he smirked, facing forwards again. “I’d say you’re no stranger to headaches but…you’re a headache in yourself.”

“Thank you, Max.”

“You wanna know my worst headache?”

“No. I don’t.”

“It was, funnily enough…when your father shot me.”

The light in the hallway flickered, a faint static-y noise filling her mind. It flickered for a split second before she was plunged deep into darkness, the only light visible being the one that surrounded her. The one that surrounded her…and the one that surrounded Max.

Still stood next to her, Max Jagerman was now bathed in light making it hard for Steph not to notice every detail about him she hadn’t seen before. He was pale. Sickly pale. Deathly pale. His hazel eyes, now more of a grey-blue colour, were sunken deep into his skull. His cheekbones were hollower than ever and all she could see were his veins. Thick blue veins. He was still dressed in that stupid outfit of his. Jeans, varsity jacket and white high tops…but there were differences. Differences, like the cobwebs hung over his arms. Differences, like the gaping wound in the middle of his chest and the dark red stains surrounding it. Differences…like the bullet wound in the centre of his forehead and the blood effortlessly dripping down his face.

“Hiya, Steph.” He said, his voice ever so slightly echoey. “You thought I wouldn’t find you?”

She began backing away, trembling at the sight of him. “M-Max! I-“

“You what? Pity me? Wasn’t it your father to shoot me? Hmm?”

“Max, you know that wasn’t me! You know I’d never have let you get hurt-“

“You, Stephanie Lauter, you promised me that there would be safety in your household. You promised me an eternity of safety. You promised me that if I ever had issues, I would be safe with you and your father…and it was your father to pull the trigger on me. Over that fucking doll.”

She put her hands up in surrender. It was stupid why she was doing it. He was gone. He was dead. There was no saving him now. “I promise you, I had no idea he was even armed, let alone prepared to shoot-“

“I saved your life. What’s the thanks I get, hmm? You? Dating a Spankoffski? After all I have done for you.”

“You’ve done nothing for me-“

“I’d beg to differ, bitch!” He stepped in front of her. “I saved your life from your dickhead dad! I got shot for you. I bled out in the middle of The Lakeside Mall so you got to survive and what did you go and do? You went and did something chronically stupid. But, I mean, I still coulda been saved, couldn’t I? Ya coulda stepped in my place! Ya coulda used that Wiggly doll as a shield! Maybe, then, my heart wouldn’t have stopped and we’d have been bestest buddy-wuds…it’s ironic you’re wearing green. I see you’re not bothering to hide your attachment to The Lord.”

Steph looked down at herself. Shit. She was wearing green flannel. Green flannel, ripped jeans and her Fleetwood Mac tee, but that was what she always wore. “Nobody else knows-“

“You know this isn’t the first time I’ve been dragged here, right?” Max asked her, keeping himself empoweringly tall. “Except this time, the axe used to end my life…was the axe I acquired to end the lives of others.”

“Think about this.” She said, backing up even further. Unfortunately for her, she hit the lockers on the other side of the hall and her heart dropped into her stomach. “Fuck-“

“Nowhere to run, Stephie. You got lucky in the woods. Had I have still been there after I saved Grace then maybe it’d be a different story…glad to see you can run though. Running from me in the boys’ washroom? If you could run then, why couldn’t you run when I died? If you ran, maybe we’d have both lived. Maybe we wouldn’t be needing to talk about this.”

“Stop-“

“Because in falling through the barrier of reality, you dragged me down with you. I’m already in Hell. Why do I have to do this alongside you?!”

“I promise, we don’t know why this has happened either, we’re trying to figure it out-“

“Oh, figure it out, I’m sure…be lucky I don’t have my axe. I handed it off to someone else. Someone very special to me, someone who’s gonna do a lot more damage than I ever could. Consider this little meet of ours a warning. I remember what it was like when that bullet pierced my skin. I remember what it was like when my brain matter turned to mush as that bullet flew through me. I remember what it was like to fall off the railings of The Lakeside Mall to then land on the spike of the swan fountain. I remember what it was like to feel such a burning sensation, to be sliding down a literal fucking spear to then feel…nothing but coldness. Nothing but a wet coldness. A moist, damp, freezing wet coldness that has grasped me for who I am. In this residual dew, I’ve met my other half. My lifeline…so consider this a warning, Stephanie Allison Lauter.” He leaned against her, arm on the lockers, him towering over him. “It’s the consequence of what you’ve done.”

The lights flickered again and all of a sudden, Hatchetfield High was bustling once more. He was still leaning over her, still staring her down but he no longer looked dead or ghostly. His grin was still slightly manic and the look in his eyes wasn’t quite human, but he was the Max Jagerman everyone was scared of.

She had more reasons to fear him than anyone did, though.

Max looked over his shoulder, noticing a group of his friends. He stood back upright, allowing for her to move away from the lockers. They began walking quietly, not speaking of the incident that had just occurred. He looked down at her when they were down the second hallway, noticing how she was questioning reality as she knew it. After approaching another set of lockers, he smirked to himself. “Oh, by the way, Steph? I didn’t consent to your and Spankoffski’s rendezvous.”

Before she could argue, his hand was against her chest and he was shoving her against the lockers. Hard. He laughed, walking off to catch up with Kyle and Jason, leaving her alone. So. She was Max Jagerman’s newest target and, if her calculations were correct, so was Peter. She could only hope that class was going better for him than it was going for her. She hadn’t even stepped foot in the classroom and the lesson was hell. All she hoped was that he didn’t have to endure that either. She never, ever wanted him to experience The Black.

For as long as she could, she’d shield him from that blood-filled realm. After all, Max had been right. She could’ve been a shield. Now, she was learning from her mistakes. If she could help it, which she could, no one else she loved was dying. Not her friends, not her family, not him or her. No one else would die. They’d watch and they’d see. No one else was dying at the hands of The Axe Man, and she’d be the one to thank when it was all over.

Chapter Text

While Steph was busy contemplating how she’d be able to protect the world from the wrath of the ghost of Max Jagerman, Peter Spankoffski, in a separate class, had just settled down to start learning. He was sitting in his usual seat, not quite at the front but also not at the back. So, he supposed he was sitting in the middle-nope, screw that. The middle. He was sitting in the middle. Like he did every time he was in this class, Peter Spankoffski found that he was sitting in the middle of the classroom, and even then it was only a sort-of placement. Peter Spankoffski was sitting in the middle of the classroom, kind of. That’d be a feasible conclusion he’d let himself come to. He was kind of sitting in the middle, and he’d leave it at that.

He was sitting on the left side of the classroom, leaning against the wall. He liked sitting against the walls because he was able to lean on them. It helped when his blood sugar started getting low and his head spun. It meant that, if he fainted, he wouldn’t dramatically faint and fall off his chair. He might embarrassingly faint on to the person sat next to him, but that was better than slumping on the floor like a crash test dummy. Sitting against the wall in the middle of the classroom meant that, on a good day, no one typically bothered him. It gave him a chance to be invisible. It was what he liked. Invisibility. If Pete Spankoffski was invisible, then it was bound to be a good day. So, there he was, invisible, in his usual spot on a fairly typical day.

That was, until, Grace Chasity slipped into the seat next to him, and not even he could face being unable to recoil at her.

Pete didn’t know why he bothered thinking it could be a typical day. He’d already seen the ghostly form of Maxwell Jagerman waving back at him during homeroom which really should’ve set the standards. Today was going to be an awful day. With no clear answer, there would be no chance of trying to get through the day without something going wrong. He should’ve realised something like this was going to happen way back when Steph first flagged her suspicions with him. He knew he shared that class with Grace. He knew Grace would want his invisible barrier to become glass.

Though Pete was her “friend,” he wouldn’t go to such lengths to defend her with that title. The only reason she was a part of his friend group was because she, like himself, Ruth and Richie, was a loser. She was Hatchetfield’s most notorious Jesus freak. She would do anything within her power to ensure that anyone’s conversation topic somehow linked back to The Bible. That was just how it went with Grace. She would not respect other people’s decisions, sexualities or preferences when it came down to their identity. She’d have to shun them if they weren’t living a perfect, Christian life. She firmly believed that she was another one of Jesus’ disciples or something. She had to spread the message of The Bible no matter where she went because that was just Grace.

Because it was “just Grace,” that meant that this lesson was about to be Hell.

There she sat, in all her chaste glory, and he was doing his best to avoid her. He had to avoid her. The longer he avoided her, the better it’d make for holding off conversation with her. It was just how things had to go. But, because of him and his stupid anxiety, he found that he couldn’t help his eyes from flicking over at her, curious as to what she was doing. She was doing something…painfully normal, it seemed, even though Pete’s gut instincts were telling him that this was anything but. She was setting out all of her stationary. Her Hello Kitty journal, her pen with a crucifix charm at the end of it and her pastel coloured highlighters. How could someone live so innocently while being so uprightly vile?

Pete wasn’t too sure, but what he was certain about was he did not care enough to find out. He really didn’t care enough about her to want to pursue being her friend. It had been Ruth who had felt bad for her, not him. As a resident people pleaser, though, he hadn’t had it in him to tell Ruth “no,” and that was the short ended version about how Grace Chasity had wound up sitting with the losers of Hatchetfield High. The losers of Hatchetfield High and Steph, who was also a part of their friend group. She got an instant pass, being his girlfriend and all. She, by no means, was  a loser. Steph, he meant. Steph was beautiful, smarter than she’d ever believe and a powerhouse of a person. Grace absolutely was. Grace Chasity was a complete and utter loser. A loser, who happened to be sitting directly next to him, the loser of Hatchetfield High. He was the nerdy and she was the prude. He sighed. He couldn’t be done with this today.

Looking back to the wall, he failed to notice that she had finished organising her stationary. Her interest was diverted to another area. His right arm.

“That’s an interesting looking scar on your arm, Pete.”

‘Jesus Christ, here we go,’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Pete ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “Yes. Thank you for your broadened observation skills, Grace.”

“I have never seen a scar like that before! Is there any rhyme or reason to it?”

Already frustrated, he reiterated what he’d been saying since 2019 when it seemed to have mysteriously appeared. People would ask and he would recite the same scripted answer. “I got it when I was born. My mom had a traumatic birth, and my fucked up arm was a result of medical negligence.”

“How?”

“It’s not something I talk about. It’s personal.”

“But I’m your friend, and friends don’t keep secrets from each other, Pete.”

“I wouldn’t consider us friends. And, you would be lying. I don’t share everything with Ruth and Richie. Me and Steph share mainly everything with each other, and if we don’t tell each other something, there’s usually a good reason behind it. I trust Steph, and she trusts me. If there’s something wrong, we’re usually able to talk it out. We’re good at communicating and-“

“I didn’t mention Steph’s name and yet, you began ranting about her. It seems like you’re insecure in your relationship, Spankoffski.”

“I am not-“

“Why else would you start to doubt her? I mean, you said it yourself. You brought up Steph’s name, not me…you and Stephanie Lauter aren’t going through anything major, are you?” She grabbed his hand. “If you and Stephanie are going through relationship issues, you mustn’t be afraid to ask for help! I can help you! If you let him into your heart, Peter, he will help-“

It was a trap. Pete knew that. It was a trap for Grace to make herself seem superior to him. He knew that, and that was why he was trying not to let her get under his skin. Key word: trying. “What do you want, Grace? You never sit here.”

“I just wanted to talk to an old friend!”

“Over what? A scar I’ve had all my life?”

“It looks painful. Does it not bother you at all?”

“No. But do you know what does bother me?”

“What?”

“You.”

She gasped, removing her hand from his. “There is no need to be so rude to me, Peter! I am only offering my blessings and my help! My help and his!”

“Neither of which I require, need or asked for. Besides, how many times do I gotta make it blatantly fuckin’ obvious that I’m an atheist! I don’t believe in God!” He looked away from her once more, muttering under his breath, “at least not the god you believe in…”

Grace folded her arms across her chest, staring across at the board. “I was just going to point out how sore your arm looked, was all. Looks just a little bit red. All rashy. Does it not itch?”

“It’s a scar, why would it itch?”

“I’ve never seen a scar like yours before! I wouldn’t know! That is why I asked.”

“You’ve never cared before, so why start now?”

She turned to him, placing her hand on his scarred arm. “Because, Peter, death is traumatic. Even near death experiences can be traumatic. Especially at the hands of a man like Lumberaxe.”

“Lumberaxe isn’t real, Grace.”

Grace scoffed. “Oh, don’t pretend like you didn’t see him at Abstinence Camp either. If we keep it between each other, then I believe that we’re going to be able to discuss this secretly. That Maxwell Jagerman tried to murder you and Steph…though I wouldn’t be surprised. You must’ve been really dirty for him to swing into action like that. Literally.”

She pulled away and, nervously, Pete turned to face her. “…how do you know about that-“

“Oh, he told me. Tried to ask me out to be his girlfriend. I said no, obviously. Why would I, Grace Chasity, end up dating Max Jagerman?”

“That’s what people are saying-“

“And people are saying that you almost died at Abstinence Camp. It’s not true. He hardly did it to kill you anyway. Just…frighten you a little. To remind you that, even from afar, he was still king. He’s still the ruler. And it was more for Steph than you, anyway. You just happened to be there and he killed two birds with one stone.”

Pete’s gaze turned to something a lot harsher. “What did he do to Steph?”

“Oh, I doubt he’s done anything now. He just wants a little talk with her.”

“What did he do to my girlfriend, Grace?!”

“I don’t know. I don’t own Max. I can’t control him. Or, what, do you think I have him on a tight leash?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised! Not by the way he talks about you! He’d be at your beck and call no matter what!”

“And I’ve told you that I have no idea what he’s doing. They’re in class together and that’s all I know. Again, I don’t own him. I’m nothing of importance to him, not when it comes down to his plans.”

“…what plans?”

She merely smirked, uncapping her pen. “If you don’t mind, Peter, I believe that class is starting-“

“Grace, what plans!?”

Blatantly, she ignored him, flipping open her notebook to begin taking notes.

On a good day, Grace Chasity pissed him off to no extent but this? This was ridiculous. Whether she was dating Max Jagerman or not, she knew something he didn’t. Pete didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one little bit.

He retracted. He needed to start at the beginning. The origins of Grace Chasity’s implied partnership with Max Jagerman. From what Grace had revealed, what could he decipher? He could definitely confirm that Max had targeted him and Steph at Abstinence Camp to scare her, but he happened to be in Max’s way. God, what had happened if he hadn’t have been there to protect Steph? She could’ve died at the hands of her ex…he didn’t want to think about it. He needed to keep pushing through points. Considering the fact Max definitely had not been alive during homeroom, Pete wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of tactic to continuously make her feel guilty over what happened on Black Friday. It hadn’t been Steph’s fault he’d fallen, though, and it never would be. It had been Max who had chosen to defend her. In doing so, it meant he gave up his life, but that wasn’t Pete’s problem. He’d have done the same. He’d give up his life if it meant Steph got to live on. As long as Steph was safe, that was all that had mattered, and Steph hadn’t been safe at camp.

Max Jagerman was a bitch. He was a cold, crafty, calculated man who chose to corner his next victim at the worst possible times. The worst possible times for his victims, not for Max himself. He may not be good at math, but he was good at knowing how easy it was to bring someone down with a cymbal crash to accompany his actions. As it turned out, Max striking a hatchet’s blade through one of Abstinence Camp’s cabins had been intentional even if Pete didn’t want to fully accept that. He had done it to scare his girlfriend. His girlfriend, who was already going through enough. Between prophetic migraines and the pressure from her dad to succeed both in school and in life generically, she didn’t need anything else to be added to her plate. She didn’t need to be bothered by her ex-boyfriend. She didn’t need to be tormented based on actions that had occurred that she hadn’t stopped thinking about. Steph still felt guilty. She hadn’t stopped. Even in that dimension, she felt awful for what had happened. Now, it was coming back to bite her with a venomous tongue twisting her words to paint her like the villain.

Stephanie Lauter was not the villain.

Pete could hardly focus, not with the newfound information sticking in the front of his mind. Grace was in partnership with Max in on way or another, and Max was targeting Steph. There, right then, Pete made a promise to himself. No matter what happened, he’d protect Steph. He didn’t care what the following cost would be. He was protecting Steph, no matter the consequence.

After class, out strolled Grace Chasity, clutching her innocently styled stationary close to her chest. She thought back over the information that she had managed to gain. Peter Spankoffski had a scar ‘supposedly from birth’ which would line up with what Max had been saying. She knew he was lying. It had only appeared around 2019, if she remembered correctly. At the time, she remembered him telling people distinctly that he’d burnt he poured boiling water over himself. That’d account for a truer story than the one he was currently telling people. A liar. Peter Spankoffski was a filthy, filthy liar, and she needed to put an end to it. Him switching up on his story after so many years did mean that Max was right. She didn’t want to admit that to herself either, but now, she had no choice. It’d only make sense, after all, for Max to be right about it. He’d lived through that dimension. She had not. If what he’d been saying had been true and not a slice of his expansive imagination. It’d only make sense, that Peter would lie about the truth. After all, who would be insane to believe he’d fallen through dimensions, happening to land in theirs? It truly was an insane theory, but it was one so wild that it may just be plausible. She’d keep her eye on it. After all, she was Grace Chasity. She was able to sniff out the truth in milliseconds.

So, she strolled down the corridors of Hatchetfield High until she saw her knight in shining armour waiting for her at the other end. Maxwell Andrew Jagerman, her boyfriend. She did not let her smile form on her face. Not yet, at least. Her smiling at Max Jagerman would cause suspicion, and she was not one to want to draw attention like that to herself. She knew she couldn’t let her guard down just yet. Until she passed him, she’d remain stone faced. That was one reason. The second reason she wouldn’t allow herself to smile until she was actually alone with him was because she couldn’t let him see how easily he’d won her over, especially when she was notorious for being such a prude. She’d let the rumours simmer, let them bubble over as people tried to figure out whether she was actually dating Max or not. The truth could remain between her and him. For now, at least. Hatchetfield would want answers and she and her boyfriend would be the ones to provide them when the time was right. After they’d gathered enough evidence against Miss Lauter and Mister Spankoffski. Then they’d let the truth unravel.

How would Mayor Solomon Lauter react to his daughter being involved in something supernatural? How would he react to learning that he was responsible for the wild path his daughter had gone down? How would he react knowing that she was irresponsibly selling her soul away? Not well, Grace could only assume. That was why she knew that the longer she withheld that information, the bigger (and the better) the payoff. People would hate Steph. Her reputation would become spoilt. She would be the most unliked person on the island. Good. Let her have a taste of her own medicine.

There was that to think about, but then there was also what would happen when they revealed the truth about Peter and the stupid lie behind his scar. How would Theodore Spankoffski react to his one and only brother being a product of the fabric of the universe? How would he react knowing that one of The Lords In Black could snatch up his soul in seconds? How he would react knowing that Pokotho had drawn his favouritism to the younger Spankoffski while The Bastard of Space and Time remained latched on to Ted…not that Ted knew that. Yet.

Approaching Max, she tucked her hair behind her ear, pleased with her results. Grace knew the truth about Pete’s scar. He didn’t need to say anything else about it. She already knew. She already knew that, and she knew she hated liars.

So, Grace walked down the hallway, letting Max swing his arm round her shoulders. Together, they walked, a smirk on his face.

“Find anything out, Gracie?”

“He refused to speak to me and wouldn’t enable me the chance to hear me out. However, his scar is exactly as you described. Untamed flesh melded to the bone…burn wounds.”

“Exactly.”

“And what about you? Did you manage to win Steph over?”

He shrugged. “I may or may not have used my full potential. Cornered her. Allowed her to see the consequences of what she’d done. I mean, how can she escape me? I’m the quarterback, I’m her ex-boyfriend, and I’m hungry for revenge…”

She noted how his lip curled up into a snarl when he spoke about Steph. There was something definitely wrong with how attractive she found that. She shouldn’t be attracted to any part of him at all. He was a brute. He was a dirty dude, and yet, she was into it. She was into him. Even she knew when there was a bargain before her eyes. Now in with The Jagerman, nobody would ever bother her again. No more being a religious freak. No more being tormented for her beliefs. No more being shoved because of who she was. Nobody could touch her now. Nobody but Max, and she’d let him touch her in every which way.

Very nearly, she almost regret thinking such a disgustingly dirty phrase like that. However, she had to remind herself that she had promised herself that if she was going to go in all the way with Max’s deal, she’d let herself betray her own Lord. After all, she’d met God, and he looked nothing like what she’d expected. No beard, no toga, no nothing. He was an elegant figure, she’d give him that. Never in a million years would she have expected an elegance like his to lock on to his form. It wasn’t a bad thing, however. After all, how many people could say they’d met God? Approximately five, with her being the fifth.

“Wouldn’t it taste nice, Gracie? Revenge, for what they’ve said to you your entire life?” Max asked, stopping by the water fountain, which was settled directly next to a semi-opened door. “They’d look at you and you, Gracie, you’d know the truth. You’d be able to tell them that. Be able to look at them and you’d be able to say, and why exactly did you gain those scars? Why exactly are you here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know…did you find anything out about Steph?”

“Apart from the fact she is, in fact, not from this dimension? Not really. But I did figure that I can scare the shit outta here real good.” He leant against the wall. “Wanna fill up your water?”

“My bottle’s in my locker-“

“Not anymore.” He made a swift motion, reaching his hand behind his back. When he held his hand out to her, her water bottle was occupying that space. “Fill it up, Gracie. We’ve got time.”

She glared up at him but took her bottle, placing it under the fountain. “Peter would not discuss his scar with me. He refused to speak to me for the majority of the lesson.”

“Not for much longerrrr, not when I get my hands on him.”

“You won’t hurt him, will you?” She asked him. “…I do consider him a friend of mine, even though he…seems not to be able to return those feelings.”

“And a friend of my Gracie’s is a friend of mine.”

“You hate him.”

“Well, course I do. Had it not been for him, I wouldn’t be having to do all of this to prove a point. Had it not been for him stealing Stephie away from me, we wouldn’t be tangled up in this mess. Though, I wish to retract my words. Since that deal, my life’s been nothing but bliss, wouldn’t you agree, babe?”

“Don’t call me that, brute.”

“How else is Hatchetfield High supposed to know you’re my queen?”

“Let the rumours simmer.” She reminded him. “Our business is our business. They can wait in anticipation. We’ve got bigger things to worry about then letting our relationship status go public. Like how we need to protect your identity?” She asked him, looking up into his hazel eyes. “You told me you had a plan for me, correct?”

“Indeed I did, thank you for that reminder.” He bit on his thumb nail, reconfiguring what it had been that he’d wanted to say. “You’re in class with Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski this afternoon, aren’t you?”

“With Miss Mulberry, correct.”

“Right. And you have that test this afternoon, right?”

“It’s only a pop quiz-“

“That Stephanie wouldn’t have revised for.” He moved closer to her. “It’s gonna be your job to intercept Steph’s attempt at cheating off her boyfriend. He’s a sucker for her. He, despite his anxiety towards perfect grades, will let her. To ruin their lives, to drive them to the central focus point, we need them both to get caught. Think you can do that?”

“Steph’s gonna cheat off of Peter?” She snorted, laughing. “Absolutely not. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Just you wait, Grace. Or must I remind you about who latched to your brain?”

“I do not believe for a second that Stephanie would risk something as severe as that for the sake of everything, though.”

He tutted, kicking himself off the wall. “Oh, my darling…how naïve you are.” Very gently, he pulled her against him, and, as subtly as he could, held his hands to her temples. He closed his eyes so onlookers wouldn’t question why, all of a sudden, his eyes were a swirling mix of his ghostly blue and bloodthirsty pink. His soul was a fragment of The Black and White now. He was attached to Nibblenephim. It was a secret between himself and His Lord. As for Gracie…she wasn’t attached to Nibblenephim, per se, but she was attached to someone who gave her the gift of foresight. With that gift, he was able to prove the truth to her. Steph was gonna ask Pete to cheat on that test, and she needed to intervene.

She pulled away shortly after, gasping.

He smirked. “Gonna call me a liar now?”

“…fine, I’ll intercept. But this had better clear itself up by the time we discover what it is, exactly, you’re bound to so we can free you from eternity’s Heck.”

“Don’t worry, darling. It won’t be for much longer I suspect…now, where’s your next class?”

She rolled his eyes, walking in the opposite direction, taking a sip from her water bottle as he followed behind her. Like she was his leader and he was a lost duckling. Even though he was the almighty, he would still give up everything had it meant she get her spotlight. After all, she deserved it, and Max knew that The Lords would show her the way.

Though that may eventually be the case, it wasn’t the right path.

Had Max Jagerman and Grace Chasity looked a little bit closer at who’s door they were stood next to, maybe they’d have rethought discussing their dealings so openly. After all, she was sure that they might not recognise her name but they would recognise her face, especially if they were dealing with The Lords In Black…who was she kidding. She knew that they’d dealt their souls away.

She’d detected a change in the force when it had happened. She had detected something had come crashing through to their dimension, and though she hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was exactly, she knew that it had something to do with The Black and White. God forbid she ever experienced peace, she always had to be doing something regarding her mistakes. Now, her thoughts had been confirmed, and as she zoned in on those feelings she’d been unable to decipher, she was able to confirm what was going on.

The Lords had locked on to their new targets, it had seemed, and, like it had been the first few times around, it was dangerous.

It had started with Pokotho switching up on his protagonist way back when. She’d detected it back then as well. It had been hard to miss, when a timeline was altered so drastically. That one anomaly had slipped up an entire set of timelines. A trilogy, she dared to call it. A trilogy where things went differently than how they were supposed to go. Paul Matthews had not been the protagonist in his story because Peter Spankoffski had skipped out on Beanie’s and gone to Starbucks that morning instead. Linda Monroe had not been the one to become Wiggly’s chosen prophet. Linda Monroe had been in the mall, but she had not been the person Wiggog Y’Wrath had his eyes on. Because Maxwell Jagerman had jumped in front of a bullet, falling over the side of a balcony, he had changed the course of the timeline for definite. Now, because of everything that had happened in the past, these teenagers were facing their current consequences with no end in sight.

She wasn’t supposed to know about any of that and she knew it, but it was hard not to notice a supernatural imbalance when she, too, had dealt with The Black and White. She was able to traverse dimensions, see the anomalies in each one. Peter Spankoffski had skipped out on Beanie’s meaning Pokotho had chosen a new favourite being. Stephanie Lauter had been dragged to The Witchwood for a chance to stop the riots only for her to unwillingly sell her soul away to Wiggog Y’Wrath. That same timeline, she had helplessly watched as Ted Spankoffski, once again, fell back through his usual fate. T’Noy Karaxis didn’t, and would never, have another favourite person. It’d only be Ted for him, and he made sure Ted’s life remained a tragedy. That was three of the five. Pokotho for Peter, Wiggog Y’Wrath for Stephanie and T’Noy Karaxis for Theodore.

The other two was trickier to figure out for she had no subsequential evidence to allow her mind to conclude her discoveries. Her triple-year long investigation was finally at the finish line. She had that evidence. They’d outed themselves outside of her office without them even realising she was there. Maxwell Jagerman, the betrayer of the bullet, had a bloodied rage empowered by the likes of Nibblenephim. Max had always been temperamental, though that couldn’t entirely be helped. She knew that. She was more than aware of that. If more evidence came out towards his family then she would book him in a meeting with her. Her job was to help the youth, especially those more…troubled than the norm, she would say. He didn’t need eyes to be able to see his latest victims. He really didn’t. He already had his targets. He could smell them out like a starving predator. A literal monster. Max Jagerman, now having sold himself away to Nibblenephim, was a literal monster. Now Nibbly was walking the earth in a different manner. Maxwell Jagerman stood as Nibblenephim’s eyes. No wonder he was blinded by his love for Miss Chasity. Everything else within his line of sight would be blurred until he accepted The Black, and she knew that better than anyone.

Speaking of Miss Grace Mary Chasity, her case was that of an interesting one. Her boyfriend, Maxwell, he had promised her a life of eternal power. He had given her a life where not even lies could hurt her. After all, that was what occurred when signing a deal with Lord Bliklotep. She would dare say Blinky was the most tame out of his brothers. He was The Watcher With One Thousand Eyes. For someone like Grace Chasity, she would thrive, being able to see what anyone was doing in Hatchetfield at any point in time…it was a shame she was unaware about the dangers. It was a shame she gave up so easily.

Because each of the five of them had given up so easily, it made things a lot trickier for her. Peter Spankoffski, though the weakest of the five of them, had the most fight to him. More fight than the quarterback, which surprised her. As it turned out, he really was willing to do whatever it took for Stephanie. When it came down to saving the world, he had not been the first one to succumb to The Apotheosis. He could’ve saved the world, had his brother not been so foolish. Speaking of, Theodore Spankoffski. He wasn’t particularly weak, but there wasn’t much that could be done in terms of strength when it came down to T’Noy Karaxis. He had a hold of Ted’s mind. He was unable to be helped now. She knew Grace had no fight left in her. She wasn’t one to fight. She was a peacemaker, hence why she was such a good lead for Bliklotep. She naturally enraged people which then allowed her to claim their innocence. No wonder he’d liked her so much…and Nibblenephim and the quarterback.

He was a literal dead nighthawk. That was why he’d been chosen.

She’d have to eliminate them one by one, try to free them in different ways but, if she started with the easier of the five, she’d be able to save them a lot of trouble. She’d be able to obtain her book back. She’d be able to get Stephanie free from what would, inevitably, be a world filled with trouble, turmoil and terror. If only she could figure out where Solomon had buried her book. How dare it be stolen from her. It was no toy. It was not to be messed with. All for the sake of becoming mayor…he hoped that him losing his wife was enough of a lesson for him to never touch it again. Hopefully, And, hopefully, Stephanie knew where it was. If she didn’t…that’d complicate things, but he could feel the book’s energy in her fingertips. She was close. She was so, so close.

That was why she brushed red hair from her eyes, sweeping her fringe from her eyes. She punched in a number she’d memorised over the years she’d known him, lifting the corded phone to her ear. Tapping her nails on the desk, she shrugged her denim jacket back on her shoulders.

The phone rang twice. She answered first.

“Hiya, Duke.”

“Heya, darlin’. Whatcha doin’, ringing me while you’re at work, ay? Y’know, you could get fired for that.”

She smiled when she heard his voice on the other line. “I need to ask you a favour…what do you know about Stephanie Lauter’s history?”

Chapter Text

They talked, her and her partner. She would tell him that he was her partner in crime, but to call them a criminal was to call herself a liar. She made notes about key points. About Steph’s mother, about Steph’s father and about how Maxwell Jagerman was, in fact, Steph’s ex boyfriend.

“And I’m tellin’ ya, darlin’, from what I hear? Max and Steph’s relationship was a nasty piece of work. I mean, I’ve been assigned to Max’s case for some time now. I was called in by the HFPD to speak to the kid after he got done for a DUI? I stuck around after that. I’m a social worker. I stick with these kids through thick and thin, but even I can’t deny how vicious he could get. He’s bitter.”

“Hmm.” She noted it down. “So their relationship, do you think that’s been having a longer lasting effect on Stephanie than it has with Maxwell?”

“It’s hard to know. Stephanie Lauter has always been a rebellious teenager. At least, as far as I’ve known her, she’s rebelled. Max has always been British-“

“Did ya mean brutish?”

“I said brutish, didn’t I?”

“You said British, Duke.”

“In his heritage, he’s that too.”

She chuckled softly, pulling up her emails. “Well, Duke, considerin’ I’m new to town and all, I wanna know if there are any key points I need to know. Especially regarding Miss Lauter. It seems her father has sent an email in requesting she stays away from Maxwell, and I want to know if there’s anything I should know in particular before I email Steph’s teacher asking to talk to her.”

On the other end of the line, there was a brief silence accompanied by the ambience of Duke Keane’s keyboard clicking. After about twenty seconds, he spoke again.

“So, on our record we have the following that I am allowed to reveal. Stephanie Lauter’s mother went missing in 2015 which would explain the start of her rebellious streak. It’s unconfirmed when her relationship started but my document says her and Max became close around their freshman year together and…she has a public vendetta against her father, and was almost murdered when she attended camp this year.”

“Murdered?”

“Correct. There’s been an investigation launched but…nothing’s been confirmed so far yet.”

With a nod, she began typing her own email to Anna Mulberry, the teacher that Steph had next. She’d been meaning to speak with Stephanie Lauter ever since she started. She had heard the rumour something had happened at camp, and she’d heard something had happened between her and Peter Spankoffski (who she made a quick mental note to try to get a meeting with too) but with no evidence, she couldn’t do much. Now, with what Max and Grace had been saying, she at least had something to go off of. She could make this work.

“And what about Maxwell? Is there anything you’re able to pass on?”

“Unfortunately not. Nothing has been confirmed, though there might be something on the records.”

“I’ll check…he said something concerning which made me ask, is all. Nothing too concerning to be getting anyone else involved but…no healthy teenager should be saying what he said.”

“Is it worth getting anyone involved? You promise me you’ll ring me if you need anyone, right? If you think the kids are in danger-“

“Duke,” she reassured, her voice melodiously soft. “Darlin’. It’s my job to inform social services if I fear for the safety of the students. If something’s going wrong, you’re the person I’m givin’ a call.”

“Alright…I s’pose I should let you go then, right?”

“Probably. I’d hate to lose my job so early into my contract.”

“Alrighty. It’d be a shame to lose you so early. I’m really starting to like you, ya know?”

Again, she chuckled. “Alright. I’ll see you later-“

“We’re going down to the bar tonight, right?”

“Only if you pay.”

“Oh, you do drive a hard bargain, but sure. Drinks on me. See you at 7?”

“See you at 7.” She hung up the phone, finished typing that email and waited.

Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door and soon enough, Stephanie Lauter stood at the doorway. “…you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, come in, take a seat, Stephanie. I just wanted to talk about some things.”

“…my dad didn’t ring in again, did he?”

She shook her head. “I just figured we’d talk for a little.”

“…okay.” Steph said, closing the door gently. There, she walked forward, sitting on the other side of the desk. There, the realisation that Ruth had been right about that woman clicked. She was only slightly furious that Ruth had been so correct about the new councillor. She truly was attractive.

She looked like she was pulled directly out of the 80s, or season 3 of Stranger Things. She was sitting down, but Steph was close enough to see the woman in all her retro glory. She was wearing a grey shirt with a denim jacket over the top and, as Steph looked to the floor, noticed she was wearing sneakers. To match the theme of her outfit were her hair, makeup and accessories. Her hair was gingery red but teased for the gods. It almost made Steph jealous, that the new councillor was able to pull it off so effortlessly. She was a pale woman but seemed to know how to apply her makeup to compliment every aspect of her face. Her bright blue eyeshadow, typical of the 80s, enhanced her soft green eyes. Steph also noticed that she was wearing huge earrings consisting of a moon and stars.

Despite the fact she didn’t seem at all comfortable in the modern day they lived in, Steph found herself feeling safe around this woman. That was probably why she got hired as councillor. Because people felt safe around her. Obviously. She wouldn’t have been hired had she felt unapproachable. As she thought it, Steph backtracked. This was an American public school. The school would hire whoever they could get their hands on. After all, their last councillor was Jeri Woods, and it wasn’t uncommon for students to debate whether she was a qualified counsellor or not.

Whatever. It was whatever.

What wasn’t “whatever” was her being called to the counsellor’s office when she knew she’d done absolutely nothing wrong right before a pop quiz.

“So…why exactly am I here, Miss…”

The counsellor smiled her way. “You can call me Miss Holliday.”

“…Miss Holliday,” she said, folding her arms against her chest. “Why am I here?”

“You are here, Miss Lauter, because of the fact I managed to overhear a conversation between Maxwell Jagerman and Grace Chasity earlier.”

“…and?”

“Your name cropped up. It didn’t sound ideal, the situation they were discussing. It seemed rather…not complicit, as a matter of fact. I wanted to personally ask you whether there was anything going on between you two.”

Steph went to say something sarcastic, went to fight against what Miss Holliday was saying but Steph, once again, was reminded that this wasn’t Jeri Woods. Jeri would’ve known about her and Max’s past. She would’ve known she wasn’t just the mayor’s daughter but also the ex girlfriend of the Nighthawks’ quarterback. Miss Holliday wouldn’t know anything about that. So, instead, she rephrased her words.

“How much about me do you know?”

“Well, I have become aware of the fact that you’re the daughter of Mayor Lauter, am I correct?”

“Yeah. I’m impressed you managed to figure that out considering you’re new to town and new to the school.”

Holliday laughed gently. “Yes. Though I have heard rumours like to travel fast. This does not seem to be an exception.”

“…I believe you might’ve heard about a rumour between me and my boyfriend, then?” Steph looked up, noticing a state of confusion on Holliday’s face. She decided that, instead of letting the topic linger, she may as well answer. “…me and my boyfriend, Peter Spankoffski, we’ve been together for a little while now. His older brother, Ted, he’s kinda notorious for being like, a massive whore-shit, am I allowed to say words like that here?”

“Everything in my office remains confidential. I won’t tell.”

“Cool, so, he will sleep with anyone and everyone, basically. Because of Ted’s reputation, it carried over to Pete and because we…basically, someone started a rumour stating I was pregnant which is impossible because Pete’s transgender and I haven’t cheated. So I got sent to Abstinence Camp for the summer by my dad because of said rumour and I almost got murdered,” she said carefully. “By a guy with an axe.”

“…Lumberaxe?”

“Oh, you’ve read up on your Hatchetfield lore. Yes, Lumberaxe, or so me and Pete believe.”

“I’ve not been in Hatchetfield long but I have heard about that rumour in particular, yes…so your father sent you away to…Abstinence Camp, is it?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s a Christian camp in the middle of the woods that got cancelled three days in because one of the camp leaders got murdered and she was also the past counsellor here.”

“Oh, goodness…you’ve been through a lot.”

Steph shrugged. “It’s whatever, honestly. I mean, it was really annoying going to camp because I’m not Christian and neither is my dad, we don’t believe in religion but.” She looked at Holliday. “I had my boyfriend with me so the three days were semi bearable.”

“Well, again, I did just want to check in with you and see if you were okay because from what I overheard Max saying, I figured that there may be the off chance you’d want to get something off your chest?”

“Not about Max but about camp, yeah…I really don’t care about Max all that much. I really don’t-“

“Stephanie,” Holliday continued. “As your school counsellor, I’d like to make it known I am more than aware over Mister Jagerman’s reputation and, because of that, I would like you to know that if he says anything or tries to start anything with you, you can come to me and I will sort it out.”

Instead of acting accordingly, Steph rolled her eyes. “Sure, Barbie. If I have an issue, I won’t be taking it up with the school counsellor. You guys either phone my dad to prove I’m the biggest troublemaker on this island, which I am not, or, you do nothing. So, if anything happens, it won’t be you I’m turning to.”

“That is your choice, and I will respect that. However, it may still be useful to keep this in mind.”

“Sure.” Steph looked back to Miss Holliday. “Are we done here? I’ve got a pop quiz with Mulberry and if I don’t get over a 50% on it, my dad is gonna kick my ass.”

“I have one more question for you and then you’re free to go.”

“And what would that be?”

“Outside of school, or potentially inside of school, are you safe?”

Steph looked down to her lap. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply with that question. I’m as safe as anyone else on this island.”

“What would that entail?”

“Living here is an essential death sentence. Weird shit happens all the time. I don’t think I could be safe no matter how hard I’d try.” She grabbed her bag. “That’s the last question, right?”

“That was the last question I had.”

“Cool. I’m gonna…” She gestured behind her.

“Alright. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Lauter. And keep yourself safe, or else I’ll be on your tail.”

“Ha. Sure.” With that, Steph exited the counsellor’s office, heading down to Miss Mulberry’s classroom.

Peter Spankoffski loved exams. Okay, yeah, he knew he wasn’t beating any nerd allegations by saying that but sitting down and filling out definitive answers was heaven to him. He’d process information from a textbook, reiterate it on another sheet of paper and get points for it. It made him feel validated. Henceforth, that was why he loved exams. He loved exams and he loved studying.

His friends, however? They did not.

So, to Pete’s left, was Ruth Fleming who looked over at Miss Mulberry, then back to Pete. She shuffled her chair closer. “We’re definitely not starting this quiz until Steph gets back from the sexy new camp counsellor’s office, right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. I’m gonna make sure we just don’t do the test.”

“Ruth, please, today’s already been bad. Please let me have this one thing.”

“You’re the only person to thoroughly enjoy tests. I, however, enjoy porn.”

“What the-“

“Miss Mulberry?!” Ruth asked their teacher.

From her desk organising the exam sheets, Anna Mulberry looked over. With a gentle head tilt, she nodded. “Yes, Ruth?”

“I’m doing lights for The Barbecue Monologues this year again, right?”

“That would be correct.”

“Sweet.” She grinned. “Sorry, was just checkin’.”

“Well, why wouldn’t you be doing the lights for the show? You did it all of last year and you did a great job of it! There’s no point replacing you!”

“Nah, just wanted to know in case your wife was gonna come watch your super cool directing, Miss…is your wife coming to watch the show?”

Suddenly, all eyes turned to face Miss Mulberry and she shook her head. “I know what you’re trying to do, Ruth, and it will not work! I am focusing on getting your quizzes together!”

“Wait, Miss Mulberry?!” Kyle Clauger shouted from the back of the class. “You got a wife?!”

“Of course she has a wife, dipshit! Why do you think she’s got that photo of her and that cop from Chicago on her desk for, like?!” Jason Jepsen followed in suit.

Brenda Campbell tapped her nails on the desk, tilting her head. “I think that’s like, super cute and all.”

“Well, Miss Mulberry?!” Ruth asked. “Is your wife coming to see the show?!”

It was obvious on Miss Mulberry’s face. She was doing her hardest to fight against an inevitable smile, but eventually, she broke. “Yes, my wife and her squad will be coming to watch the show on opening night.”

“YES! GAY PEOPLE WIN!”

“You’re gay?” Grace asked from behind Pete.

Richie slammed his hand down on Grace’s desk. “Don’t be weird about it. Homophobe.”

“I only reiterate what is written in the holy text.”

“And to love thy neighbour is also in that text, Miss Mulberry having a wife is cool!” Ruth said, looking back at her. “How is she?”

“Who, my wife?” Miss Mulberry asked, more than used to Grace Chasity’s homophobic tendencies by that point.

“Yeah! How is she?”

“She’s been good. She’s been at work, figuring out homicides.”

“Triple homicide,” Pete muttered under his breath.

Miss Mulberry looked to her class, noticing the girl at the back eagerly waving her hand. “Yes, Reese?”

“Was your wife the one who’s investigating Abstinence Camp?!”

“That I cannot confirm or deny.”

“You know I’m a lesbian too, right?!” Reese said enthusiastically.

Ruth turned around to face Reese. “Fuck yeah! I love lesbians! You’re always the sweetest people alive!” She pointed to herself. “Bisexual! Hey, we got free seats over here, why don’t you come sit, we can talk!”

“Can PJ come too?”

“Yeah, sure!”

As soon as the two joined them, Ruth turned her attention away from Miss Mulberry and Pete. Ruth gasped softly, looking at PJ’s jumper. “Oh my god! Purple is so your colour, PJ!”

PJ, also known as Patricia Johnson, looked down. “Y-You think so?”

Reese nudged her. “I told you! It looks good on you.” She smiled softly, then looked back to Ruth. “Oh, by the way, I see you around a lot but we never really get a chance to talk. Uh, I’m Reese. Lesbian, she/her.”

Ruth grinned. “Ruth Fleming. Bisexual, she/her. And you’re PJ, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. PJ is my preferred name. Uh, also a lesbian. Trialling they/she pronouns.”

“Nice!” Ruth looked to the other side of the class. “Uh, that’s Richie. He’s like, my best friend of all time, he uses he/him and, honestly, I’m not too sure of his sexuality…and then this is Pete. Pete! Introduce yourself to the new nerds!”

Pete looked at them, waving shyly. “Uh, Peter Spankoffski but you can call me Pete. I’m trans. He/him.”

“Slay.” Reese said. “And uh-PJ, do you want me to tell them? About…about us?”

PJ rolled their eyes softly. “Me and Reese are girlfriends.”

“Fuck yeah. Lesbians.”

Pete looked away for a second, drawing his eyes back to the door right in time as Steph walked back in. His entire body relaxed as he gestured for her to sit at the desk next to his. When she was close enough, he asked her, “how’d it go?”

“…I’ll give Ruth credit. The counsellor is really sexy, so.”

“See, I told you!” Ruth said, swinging around. “Oh, Steph! This is Reese, and this is PJ-“

“They/she.” PJ quickly added.

“Noted. Hi, Stephanie Lauter, she/her mainly but I don’t care if you use they/them or not…I’m pansexual.”

“Nice.” PJ grinned.

At the desk at the front of the classroom, though, Miss Mulberry tapped the papers, standing. “Ah, Stephanie! You’re back. That means, it’s time for a pop quiz!”

“Oh, fucking great.” Steph rolled her eyes. She stared at her test when Mulberry put it down and, when Mulberry approached the back of the class, she scooted closer to Pete. “Baabeeeeee-“

He looked at her. “…yeah?”

“…I kinda need you to help me do somethinggggg-“

“I’d do anything for you but if it’s something to do with the test, I may have to pass over on the offer. You know how I feel about tests.”

“I do and…and because of that, babe…I need you to hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I need you to help me cheat.”

“What?! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“Babe, I’ve seen you forging my handwriting before. I know you can do it, don’t pretend that you can’t.”

“If you don’t, I’m literally gonna fail and when I tell you that my dad might literally snipe me this time, I’m not joking. Babe, he has been threatening to take my phone away. It’s hell.”

“…can’t you text on your laptop, though?”

“How am I supposed to study for upcoming tests if I don’t have my phone on me to listen to Spotify on?! How?!”

“I-“

“Please? Just this once. And then I promise we’ll study together and I’ll try harder.”

Pete looked around, trying to figure out who exactly was around him to make sure he didn’t get his ass busted. Ruth was to his left, Steph to his right, Richie and PJ on diagonals behind him, and he was sure the person on the next row wouldn’t care. God damn him and his eternal love for his girlfriend. Peter Spankoffski really did love exams, and he loved Steph, and for her, he wouldn’t mind doing the same exam twice.

Mulberry returned to the front, saying her usual speech about how they had the duration of the lesson to complete the exam. Once she had sat down and the class fell to silence, Peter began filling out his exam sheet in Steph’s handwriting. Hey. At least she’d get to pass this if all came down to it. He considered it a warmup anyway. If he was unsure of the answer, he’d write one option down on her sheet and one down on his. Then, it wouldn’t look like he’d done everything deliberately to ensure she passed.

Once he had completed the exam, heart racing, blood pumping with the force of adrenaline, he gently nudged her. Subtly, she held her hand out to take the exam sheet. He gave a double glance. Miss Mulberry wasn’t looking, busy marking something, Peter could only assume. Ruth was busy with her own test so she didn’t notice, and the scribbling ambience around him allowed him to know nobody else was looking. So, he slipped the sheet off his table and into her hand. A seamless plan. It was perfect…

Except for the fact he forgot who was sat behind him.

Grace Chasity jumped up, slamming her hands down on the front of her desk. “CHEATERS!”

Everyone turned to look at the front of the room in Pete and Steph’s direction. Very slowly, dramatically slow, Miss Mulberry looked up, catching the teenagers in a freeze frame. “Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski. Cheating? On a test?” She stood, tutting. “I thought better of you, Peter, but I can’t say I’m surprised with you, Miss Lauter. I must abide by the rules, and that is what I shall do. Peter, Stephanie? Principal’s office. Immediately.”

Steph put the filled in sheet on the desk, standing, and without looking behind, left the classroom. After making sure Pete was by her side, Steph spoke again. “I can’t believe that…Grace fuckin’ Chasity.”

“Yeah. I guess not even dating Max Jagerman can make her less of a fuckin’ prude.”

She looked up at him, lovingly smiled. “Look at you. Not defending her and shit.”

“Look. I’m not being funny, but she really pisses me off and after everything at camp, she’s pissed me off even more. Ruth can be friends with her but I will not. I’d even go as far as to say I hate her. She really pisses me off.”

“Join the club, Tulip.” They walked down the hallway when the realisation hit her. “…isn’t this your first academic misconduct?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. My influence on you.”

“You’re a bad influence, Steph.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, you love your rebellious streak.”

“I like it just a little bit. A tiny bit. Besides, it’s only one detention. As long as nothing worse comes from this, I’m sure I’m gonna be fine.”

“Oh, I know you’ll be fine. It’s two hours’ detention, tops, and it’ll only be taking the test again, probably. The teacher who runs the detention, if my calculations are correct, is probably the really young English teacher? I managed to get on his good side and he’s essentially excused me from every detention I’ve ever had with minimal consequences.”

Pete thought about it, biting on his tongue as he tried to figure out who it was Steph could possibly be referring to. “…which young English teacher?”

“Mister Rose?”

It dawned on him, then, exactly who Steph was on about. Paris Rose was the coolest teacher in the school, right after Tom Houston. He was young, barely older than them. He had bubble-gum pink hair that he was somehow allowed to wear in school and had the best fashion sense of a teacher Pete had ever seen. He was cool and understood the youth because he was the youth. Paris Rose was paving the way for teachers everywhere, and now, Pete was sort of looking forward to detention. It felt wrong to say and left a bitter taste in his mouth, but if it was with Mister Rose, then he was sure his anxiety wouldn’t leave him dead.

“It’s clicked now, hasn’t it?” Steph asked him.

He nodded. “Sure has…Mister Rose is cool.”

“The entire family is cool. His older sister’s a doctor and his older brother, though wheelchair bound, is at the top of a really important communications department for the military, apparently. He really likes me.”

“You’re Steph Lauter. I think it’s impossible to not like you.”

“Impossible unless you’re Max Jagerman, my dad, or Grace Chasity.”

There it was, that familiar feeling of an undeclared heaviness that fell over them as soon as she let the words slipped. Of course, she’d almost immediately realised that what she had said had been wrong and had not been correct to say in that circumstance. It made her backtrack her words immediately and, taking his hand, shook her head.

“Come on, let’s just go,” she said softly.

“Steph-“

“Pete, I said come on.”

For the rest of the way to the principal’s office, they said nothing. What could be said to combat Steph’s words? The answer was that there was nothing, and it was best for them to remain quiet until they had to speak to the principal.

Luckily for the king of Hatchetfield High, currently skipping one of his lessons, he managed to overhear everything and he knew it’d be valuable to his partner in crime. Tapping his hand on his phone case, black in colour with a slight red gleam to it, he started strolling the other way. He was Max Jagerman. People wouldn’t care if he was out and about just because he could be. He was Max fucking Jagerman. He could do whatever he wanted. So, he strolled, and he strolled, and he strolled until he heard the bell for passing period. Then, he got in position.

A literal monster, some would name him. It was a title he wore with pride. It well and truly was. The ability to instil fear in the weaklings of the socialites in Hatchetfield High brought him immense joy. He couldn’t lie to himself about it. He did enjoy making others feel scared. He deserved it, to scare people. They’d scared him. Steph had scared him. Her dad had wielded a gun and he had been forced to give up his life to let her live in an effort to prove how much he cared about it. He struggled to tell her, struggled to let it show but goddamit, he did care. He wasn’t entirely evil. Like every other human, he did have a heart. A heart that pumped blood to every aspect of his body that needed it. He had a heart, he had a brain and he had experienced death. He was the walking, talking lifeless miracle, and he was about to prove to Hatchetfield High exactly what happened when you fucked with the fuckin’ blood, guts and gore that let The Black and White pulse.

He was the dead nighthawk. He was the apprenticeship.

There, in the hallway, walking away from his best friend in the entire world was Richard Lipschitz. With no Ruth Fleming to get in his way, Max figured, while he waited for Grace, he may as well make the best out of his morning. With the same heavy footsteps he’d occupied ever since his heart had stopped, he approached the freak, that grin on his face as wide as ever. “Yo! Shit lips!” He shouted. Max watched as Richie tensed up, freezing in place.

The one thing Max Jagerman no longer did was lie. Not unless it was necessary for the safety of himself or other people, or if it was to disguise his identity as the prophet of Nibblenephim. However, so much pleasure racked through him when Richie Shit Lips couldn’t hide his fear that he literally could’ve orgasmed. Shuddering, shaking most of it off, he walked over to the other end of the hallway. “It’s third period!”

“I know,” Richie said meekly.

“That means I gotta walk through this hallway to get to remedial algebra! And I don’t need you here stinking up the tiled red carpet of Hatchetfield High they installed just for me!”

“It’s just white tile-“

“Look through rose-coloured lenses once in a while, won’t ya, fuck nugget?! And I think that because you are here in my hallway knowing that I would be here…I’m gonna have to issue a hallway infraction!”

Finally facing Max, the colour from Richie’s face dropped. Gulping, he stuttered. “O-oh, Max, can-can’t you just…can’t you just give me a swirlie, or something?”

Max laughed, pretending to be pitiful, but by the way he grabbed Richie’s collar afterwards, it was clear he was anything but. He pinned Richie to the wall, looking down at his classmate, running his teeth over his tongue. “Oh, I’m gonna give you something much, much worse Richard. Because you see, had it not been for Stephanie already being in deals with The King himself then I’d offer you a position…unfortunately, they’re uninterested. So, guess I’m just gonna have to show you the best of this and-“

The sound of wood hitting the ground echoed through the hallway as the voice of Max’s favourite person broke him free of his bullying. “What are you doing to Richie, Max?”

No longer interested in Shit Lips, Max dropped him to the floor, spinning around to face his girlfriend. “Heya Grace! What are you doing?”

“I am trying to change the dance rules to make it more…parental guided.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I’m offering for the parents to come along to supervise their children to make sure they don’t dry hump in the gym, meaning I won’t have to slip on any wayward spunk and die.”

Max laughed. While doing so, he looked down to Richie. After noticing he was still there, Max’s smile dropped. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Shit Lips! Get fucking lost!”

Richie scuttled away and Grace folded her arms, looking back up to him. “You didn’t have to be so mean to him.”

“You got here rather fast.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s the perks of working with Lord Bliklotep now…I get to see you where you are whenever you are, meaning I’m able to locate you easier than most, meaning I also saw you skipping class and bullying Richie.”

“Darlin’, I gotta do what I gotta do to uphold a reputation. I’m literally Taylor Swift.”

Grace clicked her tongue, disgusted by him. “Listen to me. You’re going to leave Richie alone.”

“Why?”

“Because…what’s the point in starting off small when we can go straight in for the kill?” She asked him, getting closer, placing her hands on his chest. “I got Steph and Peter detention. That’ll throw Pete off routine enough that it doesn’t feel like anything’s gone down, but it’ll catch up with him and throw his anxiety all over the place. As for Steph, she’ll break under pressure in trying to care for him while he panics.”

He looked at her, smirking. “You were so the right girl to hire as my prophet in command.”

“I believe you may be my prophet in command.”

“Of course, Miss Chasity. My mistake.”

“Now. I do not want to be late for class, and you have remedial algebra, so how about we head in that direction?”

“Of course, my angel.” He gently nudged her so she’d get off of him, and soon, they began walking. “Do ya want me to carry your books for you, babe?”

She gasped then. Max had said a lot worse to her since hiring her as Blinky’s prophet and yet, the insinuation that he wanted to carry her books was the thing that had her gasping out in shock. “Carry my books?! Maxwell, that is third base and we are only 18!”

“Well, I’m 17.”

“…you’re what?”

“…my birthday is February 21^st 2003. I’m 17 next year. You’re 18.”

“…well, shoot…but still! Third base, Maxwell!” She swatted his chest with the comedically oversized sign she was holding.

“Why are you carrying around a sign with a meter long ruler attached to the end?”

“Because…I’m protesting the typical laws of Hatchetfield High! Obviously!”

“Why?”

“Because someone has to do it, and it may as well be me because I’m the only person to be taken seriously around here!”

Max laughed at her naivety, sighing gently. “Oh, Gracie…you wish. If we get into statistics though, and get right into the depths of the narrative, I believe it may be me who’s respected the most. I mean…I was hired first.”

“It’s always about being hired with you, isn’t it, Maxie?”

“Because, Grace, status is the most important thing in Hatchetfield High and not only am I the quarterback but I am the dead nighthawk the prophecy foretold. I’m the most important thing to happen here, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows.”

“Sure, Max.” They stopped outside a classroom. “This is my stop, Max.”

“Alright, have a good lesson and I’ll see you after, okay?”

“I will. But don’t be tardy and don’t be late to remedial algebra. It’s important.”

“Yeah, sure. Now go.”

Max watched as she did and let himself smile. He’d struck gold with Grace Chasity. His Grace. Nobody else’s. His. God, he really was the luckiest guy on the island. Now on a high, Max spun on his heel, turning around to head down the hallway to take the long route round Hatchetfield High but when he stopped spinning, he came face to face with someone much shorter than him. Roughly 5’7 in double denim with bright red hair and a face that Nibblenephim had warned him about.

Oh shit.

“Maxwell Jagerman.” She said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“I don’t know who you are.”

The counsellor licked her lips, folding her arms. Her voice dropped down to that of a spitted whisper. “It’ll be easier if you just give in. Both me and you know that you’re lying, so how about we go have a talk in my office?”

“That’s not going to happen. I don’t talk to therapists. I don’t need the loony bin.”

“No…but you do need help in figuring out what’s implanted in your mind.” The bustle of the hallway became muffled and, without even realising it, all he was able to hear was her. “You’re going to come with me, Maxwell, and we are going to talk.”

Max blinked. He tried to figure out what he had been doing before he’d ran into her, but he couldn’t decipher it. He must’ve been on his way to meet her all this time. “…yeah. We are.”

“In my office?”

“In your office.”

“Then I’ll meet you there. It’s by the water fountain near your homeroom, though I’m sure you’re familiar. Give me ten minutes. I need to pick up some supplies.”

The counsellor clicked her fingers and suddenly, the aroma of Hatchetfield High was back to normal. Back to normal…except Max had slipped, let his guard down. He knew he was fucked. This dead nighthawk might actually be dead this time round, and this time, there’d be no recovering. Not that she was in the picture.

Knowing there was no point fighting it, he let his feet carry him to the counsellor’s office where he sat down in the chair and waited for her. He’d have to lie, he knew he would…but he had a deadly feeling that his lies weren’t going to be heard or seen.

Goddammit.

Chapter Text

It was important to note that there was something off about the councillor’s office. It was too…peaceful. Max knew that was half of what was to be expected, but it never used to be that way. Whenever he had been called in there for bullying a stupid nerd or a painfully freakish dork, Miss Woods would sit him down and the atmosphere would be tense. Miss Jeri Woods, now dead (at the hands of him, mind that) would sit across from him and almost torture him for his person. It wasn’t his fault he was drop dead evil. It wasn’t his fault that evil was all he knew. None of this was his fault.

Nothing about the room had changed. Max supposed that there had been little time to allow this new counsellor time to redecorate and everything, considering the circumstance. He didn’t know how long she’d been there for but if he had to guess, he’d say it wasn’t that long. Yet, though nothing had changed, the room was more peaceful. Safer. It gave him a moment to exhale, allow the tension to vanish in his bones. In that second, time wasn’t moving. He could let himself stop. He could let himself breathe.

He stayed looking down at his lap, but he couldn’t help his eyes flickering up when the counsellor walked to sit down opposite him. He may allow himself to let his guard drop but Max needed to keep in mind that it was he who was king. Not her. Him. He was the Jagerman, after all. His surname was German meaning ‘hunter man,’ or something like that. He could practically hear his dad’s voice in his ear, telling him about how important their identity was. About how important it was to keep up a reputation when it came down to what surname he carried. He was Max Jagerman and he needed to continue his dad’s fallen legacy for a lame shot at life.

Max didn’t speak first, nor was he going to. She was the counsellor. She could speak first. It was her job, after all. She was getting paid to speak to him about…about something. Something he wasn’t quite sure of yet. For the first time in what felt like years, Max felt the uncomfortable prickle of fear on the back of his neck. Max Jagerman didn’t get scared. Ever. He wasn’t gonna start being scared now either. Not of that woman. That woman who was someone directly out of the uncanny valley. That woman who…who was she?

Her face. He recognised her face, but from where. He recognised those eyes. Recognised that soft look she was occupying. Where? He knew he didn’t know her name and he knew it wasn’t the kind of recognition he got because he knew her. If he didn’t know her, then why did he recognise her so badly? It truly was bizarre, how familiar she felt to him and he wasn’t yet able to decipher why. Maybe she was like that one person everyone supposedly saw in their dreams. Maybe she was a character his mind had pulled up. Maybe she wasn’t even real, except of course she was real. He was real and so was she and so was the office that they sat in. All of this felt too…safe. He felt too safe. He was so safe that he decided that had to mean he was in danger.

What the fuck was going on?

“I’d ask you to take a seat, Maxwell, but I can see you’re already doing so.”

“Max.” He said lowly. “My name is Max. Not Maxwell.”

“Alright. I apologise, Max.”

“Who the fuck are you anyway? You weren’t here before the summer. Miss Woods was.”

She nodded. “Correct. Your previous counsellor, Miss Woods, ran into a spot of bother, so I’ve heard. I’m new to town, you see, but even I have learnt that rumours spread fast. When I heard that there had been a murder in town and that the counsellor position here had opened up, I thought nothing of it…nothing until I spoke with Stephanie Lauter earlier.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“That Miss Woods was the one murdered during the first week of August this year.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to me, nor do I fully understand why I’m here.”

“My name is Miss Holliday, Max. And I believe you may know who I am, because I sure as hell know who you are.”

The name struck him hard. Holliday. Like Holloway, who had recently gone off the map right around the time he’d been reigning havoc on the outskirts of Abstinence Camp. He knew this because Nibblenephim had told him Holloway was gone. He knew this, because Nibblenephim feared Miss Holloway. He knew this, because not only had Nibblenephim descended into a state of mild panic at the prospect of her being gone, but also because it meant bad things for him too. Miss Holliday. Her name was Miss Holliday, and, as Max finally lifted his eyes to look at her in his entirety, he felt a coldness snake through his body.

Nibblenephim had worried when Miss Holloway went off the map because that meant he and his brother would need to backtrack further plans to ensure they found her. To ensure she was located, they needed to disregard every other thing. Everything was irrelevant until they found Miss Holloway. Well, Nibblenephim needed to no longer search for her. There she was, in front of Max, and Max could ping that message back to him. To communicate with The One Who Feasts In The Dark meant to focus. It had been jarring when Max had initially been hired but he got the hang of it pretty fast. He stared ahead and focused. Usually, it’d take a few seconds before he was able to connect with his god of a mentor. Sometimes, if it was safe to talk face to face, Max would be dragged back home to The Black. If it wasn’t and he was with other people, he’d communicate telepathically. The tricky part, in that instance, was actually connecting with Nibblenephim. With more practise, it got easier. He got better at it, and by better he meant faster. However, there was an unease to him in that room.

He couldn’t fucking feel his mentor’s presence anywhere around him.

“Are you alright, Max?” Miss Holliday asked, or Holloway, Max should really revert to saying. “You appear to have zoned out.”

Max blinked, forcing himself back to the present. “I’m just fine…why am I here, Miss Holliday?”

She clasped her hands together, setting them on her desk. “You are here, Max, for I overheard you speaking with one Grace Chasity earlier today and, as your counsellor, I am here to discuss you and your safety.”

Shit, Max thought, but kept his facial expression clean. “Me and Grace were just talking and…and if you think I’m in danger or something, I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that you aren’t.” She leaned in closer to him, just slightly. “Oh, and by the way, you won’t be able to talk to Nibblenephim while you’re in here. Much like how Wiggog Y’Wrath couldn’t access Stephanie Lauter when we were talking earlier.”

Max’s eyes became sharper within an instant. He looked at her, heart beginning to pound. Fuck. Busted. “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. Who’s Nibblenephim?”

“You can’t lie to me. I’ve worked with them long enough to know when they’ve captured the souls of another innocent teenager like yourself. I already know about you and Nibblenephim. He had been after a dead nighthawk to feast on for quite some time. His words, not mine.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” Max said again. “Who’s Nibblenephim?!”

“And maybe you shouldn’t be discussing the fact that Grace Chasity is currently synced up to Bliklotep either. At least not in public, or loud. Who knows, people like myself could hear about it and she could end up in this very same situation…you are aware of the fact that The Lords are not the people you believe them to be? They’re very powerful and-“

“I didn’t have a choice,” Max said, looking at her. He was beginning to piece things together. She might not know about his deal he’d made with Nibblenephim or the full story, so she wouldn’t know about the fact he’d been at camp. She wouldn’t know he’d tried to murder Stephanie Lauter in tactical revenge. Miss Holloway wouldn’t know any of that. “I don’t think anyone has a choice when they deal with The Lords.”

“Ah. So you know there are multiple.”

“I fail to see how exactly this is relevant, Miss Holliday.”

Miss Holloway clicked on her computer, scanning her eyes over the screen. “I wanted to talk to you anyway, if I’m being entirely honest, Max. I’ve scanned through your personal report made with the school and I can see that you’ve been in a spot of trouble.”

“More like a pool of fucking ink…of trouble. A pool of trouble.”

“And I notice that you’ve got history with my colleague, apparently, according to these files.”

“Who’s your colleague?”

“Douglas Keane? You may know him as Duke. You know? 5’9? Black hair? Social worker?”

Max shifted uncomfortably then. “…what about Duke?”

“As your school counsellor, I’m doing my best to get to know the kids here. I’ve been through most of the reports on the system but it is yours that caught my interest the most. Especially when it became clearer to me who exactly it was you were dealing with.” She lay her hands out flat, and Max noticed a silver ring on her finger. Maybe she was married. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. “Max. You can tell me this in confidentiality, nothing is going to escape this room if you don’t provide consent for me to tell other people. My concern is that you’ve been involved with Duke in the past and you’re now involved with Nibblenephim…would it be alright for me to ask how things are at home?”

“You’re pretty bold for a counsellor, aintcha, Miss Holloway?”

“What did you call me?”

Max stared at her, his tension building. “…Holliday. You’re pretty bold.”

“What can I say? I love the 80s. Everything is bold there.”

“What right do you have asking me about my family? You don’t know shit about me and that was unprompted as hell!"

"I am only asking for your sake. Mr Jagerman, I don’t think it’s news to you that I’ve had my fair share of run ins with The Lords In Black. All I am doing is checking in on you.”

“Well stop it, I got places I need to fuckin’ be.” Max grabbed a hold of his collar, tugging on it. It was a nervous stim he’d picked up from when he was a child. His father used to scold him for it. He’d say that Jagerman didn’t fidget and it was a pathetic habit he needed to drop. If he was getting anywhere in life, he needed to drop his persistent fidgeting. For the most part, Max had managed to abolish the trait but when he was stressed, using that exact moment as an example, the habit would return. While tugging on his collar, though, he noticed that Holloway’s eyes were back on him. His shoulders squared and his gaze sharpened. “What are you lookin’ at, bitch!?”

She gestured with a weak wrist. “That’s one peculiar scar you’ve got there. On your chest?”

He looked down. That was the second thing he’d let slip about his past today. Fuck. The scar he got when he was impaled by the swan fountain in The Lakeside Mall. God fucking dammit. He let his collar go, shrugging. “Yeah? So what? Just cuz it doesn’t look ordinary don’t mean it’s something worth battling over.”

“…am I able to ask how you got that scar?”

“No. I don’t tend to talk about my traumatic experiences. Not with counsellors, at least.” No longer able to fidget with the collar of his shirt at risk of revealing more of his scar, he swept his hair out of his eyes, running his fingers through it. As he did so, he could feel his phone beginning to vibrate in his pocket. He could’ve said he’d potentially been saved by the ringing because, when he looked, he felt instant relief fall over him. “Now am I allowed to go? My dad is ringing me, and he never rings me unless it’s important.” He showed Holloway his phone, noticing a concerned look on her face. “…why are you looking at me like that for?”

She didn’t answer his question, deliberately doing that to unnerve him, he suspected. “You may go.”

“Cool. Thanks.” With that, Max slipped out of the councillor’s office, shuddering as a gust of wind hit him. He snapped the clasps of his letterman jacket together to keep himself warm as he answered the call. Shutting Holloway’s door, he headed in the other direction. To the man on the phone, he said, “I thought you hated phones, bitch!”

A deep chuckle followed suit.

“You do underestimate me, Max. I’m not afraid to go to extreme lengths, unlike the other beings here. They hate phones, and the company I worked for also hated phones…so I suppose, in principal, I also hate phones. It was important I made drastic measures to meet you, though. You went off the grid. Nibblenephim’s not happy. Where were you?”

Max curled his lip in a snarl. “Look. I did my part. I’ve been assisting Grace with her newfound prophethood and-“

“Don’t dodge the question. Nibbly won’t be happy and you know it.”

Dragging his fingernails along the blue paint of Hatchetfield High’s lockers, Max spoke outrightly. “I found her.”

“Found who?”

“Who do you think!?” He let his voice duck to a quieter volume. “Holloway. I found Holloway. By accident, but I found her! She’s the new counsellor at my school-“

“Oh, you are fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“I’m not! I couldn’t make this shit up even if I tried! It’s not like I intentionally wanted to find her! I was leaving it up to you but she’s the new counsellor because I did the thing regarding Miss Woods and uh…”

“Are you in a corridor right now?”

“It’s empty.”

“Rule one of being a favourite of The Lords. Ya don’t speak this shit out loud. Ever. Do ya understand me?!”

Max flinched, though he knew the person he was on the phone to wouldn’t be able to see it. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Why are you ringing me if you hate phones, though? Like, I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong-“

“We need you on our map at all times. For god’s sake, we can’t have another person go missing in the span of three months. We can’t deal with another Holloway situation.”

“It’s not my fucking fault she put something over her office! I couldn’t feel Nibbly when I was sitting in that office so I know he sure as shit couldn’t feel me! I didn’t do that deliberately! She did!”

“So you know what you gotta do, Max. You can’t ever go there again.”

“I know, sir. It wasn’t my choice to meet her today. She cornered me and-“

“She cornered you because you couldn’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut around Grace fuckin’ Chasity. No wonder Nibblenephim chose you as his mentee. The one thing you both have in common’s that ya can’t keep ya fuckin’ mouth shut.”

Max tensed again. “Look, why are you ringing me? I do actually need to get to class.”

“Ya don’t need school when you’re investing in godhood.”

“Whatever. Answer my question.”

“I rang you so I could get you back on our map. Holloway’s stupid little spells don’t block out phone wavelengths, even from a realm like The Black. I should know. She might be a witch but I’m the sorcerer. I think I know what I’m doing better than she ever will.”

“Okay, so you rang me to get me back on the map. Anything else?”

“Yeah. I need t’see ya tonight. I’ll be coming on the mainland. You’re gonna meet me behind the back alley of Pasqualli’s. I need to set you up for your next task, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. What time?”

“7 should be good enough.”

“Right. Okay. Can I hang up the phone now?”

“If you promise to stop being a fucking idiot and if you promise to remain in league with Nibblenephim then yes, you may hang up the phone.”

“See you at seven then.”

Max followed through with his actions. He hung up, slipping his phone back in his pocket as he thought about it. When would he ever be good enough for people? He was still new to this whole prophet malarky. He didn’t entirely know what he was doing, and he wasn’t too sure what he was supposed to do when it came to assisting Grace. Hell, he’d been at it longer than Grace and she had a better idea of what she was doing than he did. He couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut and now Holloway knew he was dealing with Nibblenephim. She also knew about Steph and Wiggly, though. The one good thing that Max could take away from the ordeal was that Holloway didn’t seem to know his exact plans. If it was up to him, he’d keep it that way. With his current life, he needed this escape Nibbly had promised him. He’d grasp it, taking it carefully to ensure not to lose it.

Home was rough. Everyone in Hatchetfield knew how atrocious Max Jagerman’s homelife was. His mother was dead and she had been for nearly ten years now. She’d worked as a nurse at St Damien’s prior to her death but it hadn’t been the stress of the job to kill her off. Oh no. It had been Max’s fault, apparently. His mom had never wanted a son, yet there he’d been in all his nine year old glory in the back of his dad’s truck. She’d died, and Max had to live with that guilt for the rest of his life. After all, maybe if he had been the daughter his mom had always wanted, she’d still be alive and he was happy.

Miss Holloway had been on to him about his dad, though. Just because his mom wasn’t alive anymore didn’t mean his dad had killed himself too. Gregory Jagerman, infamous round the island for scamming people of deals and being the epitome of neglect, was Max’s awful father. Greg had already built a reputation, having been friends with Henry Hidgens some time before Max was born. A lightning strike changed their bond, though. Changed his bond with everyone, apparently. Max wouldn’t know. His dad had been happy before Max had been born. Had the perfect life with his perfect wife, and then he’d come along and ruined it.

Even from the start of his life Max knew he wasn’t wanted. His parents had been on the older side when he was born which made him realise, now he was nearly 18, that he hadn’t been a planned baby. He’d grown up dirt poor despite what most people may think. He lived in the dirtiest side of Hatchetfield where the nights were at the darkest and the crime rates were at their highest. He’d lived in the same house all his life and, like the neighbourhood, it was damp, damaged and ignored. Max’s childhood hadn’t been the greatest, but it got even worse after his mom died. Max was ignored by his father for most of his life but with his mom gone, the spotlight shone on him for the first time and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

Fight, apparently. Learning to fight was what his father wanted. Toughen up. Become the king of Hatchetfield High. Make a name for himself.

“After all, Maxie,” his father had said to him one day. “You got no chance of getting into no colleges cuz you’re dumb as shit. Ya best get a reputation while you still can.”

Max Jagerman’s reputation was that of a brute. He was vicious, he was violent and aimed for the most visceral reactions he could possibly gain. He didn’t care, though. He didn’t care for it. As long as he had his reputation, then he wouldn’t be forgotten. Then he wouldn’t be ignored. Even that only did so much, though, and he knew it. After high school, people would forget about him and he’d crumble to nothing. He’d be stuck in Hatchetfield. He was never getting off the island and as much as it sucked, he had to come to terms with it.

Dying the way he did had hurt him badly. He’d died protecting someone he cared for, maybe even loved. It was one sided. She loved Pete, she didn’t love him and he knew that, but he had died for her. He had taken that bullet. He had been pierced through the skull and skewered on a swan. Then, there had been darkness and no path to walk. He had been nothing. He was nothing. He was useless, pathetic, and dumb.

Nibblenephim had seen something in him that day. He had. Why else had he hired Max? He had seen something in him, and now, Max was dealing with the devil. If it meant increasing his evilness to the maximum then fucking sure, that was just how it was gonna have to go.

He was done with being ignored. He was done with being left behind. He was no cuck. He wasn’t a little bitch. He was the king of Hatchetfield High and he’d never let them forget it. So he’d meet up with his mentor behind Pasqualli’s tonight, see what his next task was, and get things in motion. Like physics. Like Newton.

In Hatchetfield’s public library, sitting on opposite sides of a desk, were Ruth Fleming and Richie Lipschitz. They were nerds. They respected the rules of the library. What they did not respect was the absent notes from Peter, not confirming whether he would be able to attend their study session after school. They both understood he got detention from trying to help Steph cheat, but he didn’t have to go straight to detention after school. There had been time to spare a text message. There had been.

So, there they sat, buzzing with anxiety. Routinely, their eyes would flick to the double doors to see if Pete would walk in but at 5 PM, there was currently no luck. Richie sighed at that. He set his pen down, bookmarking his textbook, grabbing his phone. “I don’t think he’s coming, Ruth.”

“Neither am I.” She whined. “I bet he’s getting sucked off in the backseat of Steph’s jeep. Why can’t that be meeeee-“

He ignored her, more than used to her dirty mind by that point. “The library closes at seven. I doubt he’d wanna come to the library for one hour of study. He may as well do that at home. Knowing him, he’d be with Steph anyway.”

Ruth crinkled her face up. “It’s always Steph and Pete, Pete and Steph…when’s it gonna be my turn?”

“I worry about him though, Ruth,” Richie confessed. “I’m happy he’s with Steph and all but like, after everything that happened at camp, doesn’t it feel like he’s been…pushing us away?”

“What?! Pfft, don’t be fucking ridiculous, Richie. He wouldn’t do that.” She said, capping the lid to her pen. A few beats of silence passed before Ruth nodded. “…He’s definitely pushing us away.”

“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?!”

“Because…if I don’t speak about it then it isn’t going to happen…ergh.” Ruth slumped in her chair. “…I woulda hoped he’d seem more enthusiastic about Reese and PJ coming over but all he seems to be caring about is Steph Lauter. And I get why! She’s Stephanie Lauter! She’s Pete’s one shot at freedom but like…we’ve been his friends since we were kids…and all of a sudden we’re nothing?”

“It seems like that…dammit, Pete, you promised this wouldn’t happen.” Richie said, a heaviness to his voice that rarely ever became present.

Ruth heard it, though. Like how Pete had Steph, Richie had her. She knew Richie better than most people, she’d like to say. Hearing his tone shift, she knew she had to at least check in on him. “…you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just a little fed up that everything keeps seeming to go wrong. Like, Pete almost got murdered and he won’t talk about it. Ted almost got murdered and he won’t talk about it…if Steph’s the only person he’s talking to, how long’s it gonna be before they collapse in on each other?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t.”

“But listen to what I’m saying. She’s Steph Lauter, she’s got her own issues going on. It’s not healthy for them to keep going backwards and forwards with each other…I’m worried that he’s gonna get hurt because he’s overly confident he’s okay. So I am worried, but I’m okay, at least.”

Ruth looked at him, nodding. “I see where you’re coming from. I promise, I do, but like…do you maybe wanna get outta here? Mom’s making burgers tonight if you wanna come over?”

“It’ll be fuckin’ better than whatever Uncle Paul makes, no doubt…sure. I’ll come.”

“That’s what she said-“

“Ruth.”

“Look! Richie! I’m fucking horny, okay!? All I want is for someone to fucking touch me! It is torture! Like, what do other people see in other people that they don’t see in me?! I’m a sexy bitch too!”

Richie looked over at Ruth. As it turned out, Peter wasn’t the only one keeping secrets from Ruth because so was he. There was something weird going on with him lately. He’d began to view Ruth in a different light to the point he was beginning to think the connection he had with her was no longer strictly platonic. He didn’t know what was the right thing to do. Act on a potential crush or let it simmer out. If worst came to worst, though, he could easily lose his virginity from this. That’d be a win in both of their books, and he’d rather it be her than with someone who he didn’t know.

“Yeah, Ruth…I-I know, but you should keep your voice down-“

“I’m a naughty schoolgirl being naughty in a library, Richard! I deserve a punishment!”

Richie grabbed his bag, shoving his books inside. “Come on. Let’s just go. He’s not gonna show up, so what’s the point in waiting?”

“Yeah, okay, leaving.” With a grin, Ruth stood, getting her things together.

Richie kept his eyes on the doors, still half expecting Pete to show up. He knew it was unlikely that he would after all of this, but it was routine. Pete was supposed to be there, not in trouble. Pete had never been in trouble like that before. There Richie stood, waiting, when, much to his surprise, he saw the door open. “Wait, Ruth, he just got here.”

“Huh?” She asked, her voice back level with that standard of what was deemed appropriate when in a library.

“He just got here.”

“Who, Pete?” She looked up, her eyes glinting with forgiveness again. “Peter! Hey!”

There, from the other side of the room, was Pete, who all but ran to meet them at their desk. “Hey! Sorry I’m late. Me and Steph got outta detention, she had to go home cuz her dad wanted to talk to her or some shit and the bus driver left me behind again because he’s a fucking asshole so…sorry for being so late.” He looked down at them. “Oh…were you guys done here?”

“I texted you just now.” Richie said. “Which you’d know if you had your data on.”

“I ran outta mobile data, I told you that. Besides, there’s no signal on the bus. It’s fucking shit…you were actually leaving? Really?”

“…we figured you weren’t showing up, so I was gonna go back to Ruth’s house for dinner. Her mom’s making burgers.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna keep studying there, though, I’m pretty sure.” Ruth put her backpack back on, clipping the straps on her stomach. “Pete, did you wanna tag along as well?”

“Uh, I may as well…I’m so sorry, guys, I really didn’t wanna let you down-“

“If the bus driver abandons you, the bus driver abandons you, right? It’s not your fault.”

“It’s cuz I’m a fucking Spankoffski.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ruth walked out the front of the library, shortly followed by Pete, then Richie, who always let his friends go first.

Pete looked at the both of them. “Sorry, how was today? We didn’t really get to talk since I was put in detention and-“

“Actually, it was really weird, thanks for asking,” Richie said. “Max came and cornered me and whatever after one of my classes during passing period but he didn’t…he didn’t really seem like Max. He seemed a lot more vicious for some reason? A lot angrier? Like, he had me pinned against the wall by his collar. He’s a tall guy, and so am I so like, it caught me off guard when one moment I was on the floor and the next minute I was-“

Mid sentence, Richie would find he was cut off by Pete’s phone ringing. Pete looked down to his phone, and by the way his eyes softened when he saw the contact, it didn’t take a genius for Ruth or Richie to figure out who was calling. “Sorry, Richie, let me get this and then…”

“It’s fine,” Richie lied. “Ring Steph.”

So, Pete picked up the phone. “Steph, you okay?”

“Hey, Pete? Up for a study session at Pasqualli’s with me?”

“What the fuck are you doing at Pasqualli’s?”

Ruth gasped, gripping Pete’s arm. “Pasqualli’s, did she say?!” She squeaked. “Oh my god! That’s where you go for blow jobs! Peter! You gotta go!”

“…is Ruth with you?”

“Yeah, I told you, I’m at-well, I was going to study with Ruth and Richie at the library but we’re heading back to Ruth’s house and-“

“Okay. Act normal, but there’s something going on down here you’d appreciate seeing. So, how do you feel about coming down to Pasqualli’s to view Max Jagerman doing some really sketchy shit?”

Pete gulped. “Hang on, let me check with Ruth and Richie. I just got here, I don’t wanna just leave them-“

“Go!” Ruth said, shrugging herself off of him. “It’s Pasqualli’s! Go!”

He looked down to her, then to Richie. “…are you okay if I go?”

Richie shrugged. “She’s your girlfriend. Who am I to stop you?”

“…okay.” He spoke directly down the speaker so he knew she’d be able to hear him. “Steph? Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll be there.” He hung up, turning to his friends. “Sorry about this-“

“It’s okay. We’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. At school.” He smiled. “And we’ll study tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay…okay.” Richie smiled at him. “Have a good time, and don’t get murdered!”

“I hopefully won’t this time!”

Off Pete went, turning the corner to walk away from the library. Watching him go, Ruth sighed whimsically. “Pasqualli’s, Richie…can you even imagine going there? They got good food…good breadsticks…and most of the time people end up sucking a guy’s breadstick-“

“Do you even need Pasqualli’s for a blowjob?”

“Not nerds like us. It’s where the popular kids go before homecoming. You go to Pasqualli’s with a popular kid? You’re guaranteed a blowjob and-“ She gasped, grabbing Richie’s arm. “Steph’s popular! Pete’s getting a blowjob!”

Richie nodded. “Yeah but it’s no secret he and Steph fuck anyway.”

“Yeah. God, how I wish I was Pete.”

“Do you?”

“I mean, he’s got an older brother who loves him a lot and a girlfriend who also loves him a lot! Plus! He’s Pete! He’s hot as shit!”

“Ruth, you say that about anyone.”

“Because everyone is sexy in their own way, but there are only a select few I’d actually bone.”

Richie nodded as the two walked back to his car. It was a small blue Toyota that his Uncle had gotten him when he got his license. He had no idea if it was a good car or not, but it was what his uncle drove and that was good enough for him. Despite what Ruth had been saying, he couldn’t help his mind wandering to other places. “So who would you bone?”

“Like I’d tell you who I had a crush on. It’s embarrassing if they say no. Like, who would actually want to date Ruth Fleming, you know? I have to wear headgear- actually, it’s about the time I can take it off. My dentist says that’s okay to do now. Take it off. I’ll do that when I’m in your car if that’s okay?”

“Not a problem considering we’re right here.” He unlocked his car and got in the driver’s seat while Ruth slid in the passenger’s.

She got to work taking off her headgear, clicking her jaw as she readjusted to the sensations on her face. “I wish it was my clothes I was taking off.”

Once Ruth had buckled herself in, Richie set off, turning back to their original topic of conversation. “So who would you date? Hypothetically?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not? I’m your friend.”

“Which might make it really awkward! We’ve known each other for fucking years, Richie! I don’t want you to know my taste in guys!”

“I don’t think you’d believe in my taste in girls.”

“Rei and Asuka, I already know that. From Neon Genesis Evangelion. You have body pillows of them-God what are you gonna do when you lose your virginity?”

“It’s bold that you say when I lose my virginity. Have you seen me?”

“Yeah, and you’re fucking sexy.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Richie sighed softly, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “…we can be honest with each other, right?”

“Of course.”

“And this won’t change anything between us. Right?”

“…I should hope not? Richie, are you…are you okay-“

“Can I propose something? To you?”

“Always.”

“And this isn’t me saying this just because you keep saying it but this is me saying this because I want this too.”

“What…what are you trying to get at?”

Back on Main Street, Richie parked at the red lights. “Can I be blunt in saying this? I don’t know how to say it without being awkward otherwise.”

“If it’s easier…are you okay?”

He nodded. “Well, I might be about to ruin every year of friendship we’ve managed to gather so far but…” He looked over at her. “Uncle Paul’s working late-“

“I thought you said he was making dinner?”

“He left me leftovers, and his cooking is good, but never good reheated for some reason.”

“Ah. Anyway, sorry I interrupted. Continue.”

“Okay, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Do you wanna make a quick stop at my house before we go to yours for dinner and maybe…this is so awkward.”

“Just say it!”

The lights changed to amber, and Richie found himself looking back ahead, getting his foot on the gas. “…I want to have sex with you.”

She looked over at him, staring with wide eyes. “You fucking what?”

“I…maybe something other than just sex but…I don’t think what I feel towards you is strictly platonic anymore but…I don’t know. Then at least we can say we’re not virgins and-“

“I like you too,” Ruth uttered, a sense of shock to her. “Sorry, is this actually happening? Did-“

“You like me back?”

“Yes! I thought I was making it so obvious!”

“I couldn’t tell! I don’t even know what my feelings are but I’m almost certain they’re what I think they are!”

“You really like me back?”

“Yes!”

“And…wait, just for sex or…?”

“Hopefully something other than that and-“

Ruth fist pumped the air. “Get your foot on the gas and fucking drive! Richard Lipschitz, we are not gonna be virgins by the end of this night! And then you can ask me out property because that’s what I deserve but only after you rock my shit. Understand?”

“Loud and clear.”

Chapter Text

Very little could’ve prepared Peter Spankoffski for what was waiting for him at Pasqualli’s. Sure, He and Steph had been to Pasqualli’s before, and not just for the sex. Steph liked the breadsticks and honestly, so did he. It was a calm, chilled out place that was the almost perfect environment for studying in. The staff were friendly enough and, if Pete didn’t think too hard about it, the prices weren’t that bad when it came down to purchasing for the long term! God, the, influence of his girlfriend. Had it been any other situation and he would’ve most likely been freaking out about how much he was willing to spend on a bowl of pasta. Every single time he’d freak, though, she’d bring him back, tell him that money was a human concept, that it wouldn’t really matter. Every time without fail, he would mutter to himself, ‘matter to you.’ Never one to openly speak up about something like that, he chose to move on.

However, today was different. Steph had all but summoned him to Pasqualli’s and, by the tone of her voice, she’d been disturbed by something. It didn’t sound like she was deliberately calling him there so she could suck him off in the back of her car (but fuck, now he was thinking about it, he wouldn’t mind that option either.) Actually, god fucking damn him and his stupid Spankoffski brain. Fuck being a sexual person. This could actually be serious and he was thinking about his girlfriend between his legs while he sat there a trembling fucking mess-

So Steph could be in danger. He’d think about that instead. She seemed worried, she seemed concerned and yet he wasn’t too sure about what he could expect. It took a lot to scare Steph, it really did. She was tougher than nails. If she was scared then what the fuck was he supposed to be? He was no hero. He was quiet, pathetic and lame. He was the nerdiest of nerds, he was not destined to be the hero of his story. He had not been put on Earth to save Steph Lauter because Stephanie Lauter was no damsel in distress. Peter Spankoffski was ignoring the biting feeling at the nape of his neck that Steph could be in danger because he knew he couldn’t save her.

At least, not this time.

He had saved her once and he knew it. Back when this all started. Albeit, they still ended up dead but what mattered was he had successfully destroyed the meteor. Destroyed the meteor and destroyed the thread that wove the narrative together. Curse his birthday being that day. October 13^th. Why did he have to be born on the 13^th of October, and why had Ted left him that extra money to go to Starbucks instead of letting him drink the cheap shit from Beanie’s? Pete had to learn he’d get what he was given, growing up in a poorer household. His logic was that if his blood sugar was failing him then he’d rather drink something that tasted like dirt rather than wait for something of good quality. He’d even risk drinking the barista’s spit. Which barista? He didn’t know. He was almost certain the one he always saw whenever he went into Beanie’s was the one dating Richie’s uncle. He didn’t know and honestly, he didn’t care enough about it to ask.

Since he blew up that meteor back in 2018, back when he had been put in the shoes of a hero, Pete had learnt not to care so much. His life could be pulled out from under his feet at any given moment. He couldn’t afford to risk taking things so seriously anymore. Any moment, he could die. Any moment, he could be dust. That was why he was learning to live a little. That was why he was trying to make himself as cool as possible. Not actually cool as in Hatchetfield High’s terms of standards. Cool as in making peace with the world. Hey, he was only mortal. He could die as soon as next week. Though he was living as carefully as possible to make sure that didn’t happen, his life was already written for him. Life was precedented, set in stone. Nothing could be changed, and he’d have to make peace with the unwary inevitable.

But hey. Whoever was writing his life? Let it ease up a little bit. He was no rebel and he didn’t want to be one of the assholes who started dating a popular girl to end up a complete and utter dick.

Pete wasn’t too sure why Ted’s name popped into his mind as he walked down to Pasqualli’s. How dating a popular girl related to Ted didn’t correlate for Pete, not for a while at least. Not until he remembered Jenny.

Maybe that was why that dimension felt so different. Jenny wasn’t there. Pete knew about what happened to her in the other two timelines. In the first one, The Apotheosis, Jenny had shamelessly had sex with his brother who’d been infected without realising it, infecting her in the process. While going to get medication for Ted’s stubborn injury, she had taken Steph out to main Clivesdale with her, infecting Steph. Steph had returned back to the house where Pete waited with an already turned Ted and he had been brutally murdered. Infected. Even heroes had to die, Pete supposed as he gripped the bumpy scar on his right wrist. Fucking grenades. Fucking Ted. That had been what Jenny had done, Pete knew. Fucked Ted. How ironic. People fucking hated Ted, but sometimes, people loved hate-fucking him.

In the second dimension he and Pete had lived out together, the one where she was the star of the show instead of him, Jenny ended up in The Lakeside Mall, grabbing a Wiggly for a reason Pete couldn’t remember. She’d found Ted and one thing had led to another but she became a character known round town as The Homeless Woman, the wife to The Homeless Guy. Not that it had mattered to Steph in that timeline, though. She’d murdered them both with no real motive.

Now, there was an eldritch deity in Steph’s head sending her prophetic visions through painful migraines and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to support her. She could be in danger, and maybe that’s why she was calling on him. She knew he had the potential to save the world. He’d done it once…actually, he’d done it twice. He had pushed Stephanie Lauter through the boundaries of the world. He had pushed her through The Black, through to the dimension they currently lived in. He had saved her, but not entirely. Wiggly still had a grasp on his girlfriend and if Pete could find a way to fix her, he sure as hell would.

As Pete walked, he pondered on empty hypotheticals. If Jenny wasn’t in this timeline, did this mean things would finally work out for the best? Was Jenny the activator for a worldwide disaster? Did Jenny even exist? He didn’t know. In the few years he’d lived in that timeline, she’d hardly crossed his mind. Good. Let it stay that way. Let this timeline stay sane. Oh, the irony. Let the timeline stay sane but Steph had a mania creating God giving her orders and Max was a fucking zombie or something. Jesus Christ, he was actually losing it.

After what felt like another eternity had passed by him, Pete walked around the back of Pasqualli’s. He assumed that Steph, if in danger, would also want him to hide. Seeing the familiar sight of her back profile, he assumed right, for she was only just peering out behind the wall. Deciding not to scare her, he sent her a text, informing of his arrival.

He watched as Steph checked her phone, turning her head over his shoulder. “You came!”

Pete blinked, awkwardly crossing his legs. “Okay, don’t phrase it like that-“

She turned to face him, her voice at a minimal whisper. “…did you think I dragged you here as like, a sexual scenario or…?”

“No. I didn’t. On the way over here, my mind kept telling me you were in danger, and then my brain was going, ‘it’s Pasqualli’s, you’re getting a blowjob.’ Damn my heritage.”

“I mean, that can be arranged but like-“

“Steph!”

“Shh!” She grabbed his hand, pulling him in close. “I was meant to meet Brenda and Stacey here-“

“I thought you were grounded?”

“You think dad can ground me?” She laughed. “Dad’s pissed but whatever. I was meant to meet Brenda and Stacey and I got here and look over there in the alley. They’ve been there for twenty minutes now and…I don’t think they have any signs of leaving.”

Pete looked around the wall as well, looking straight into the dimly lit alleyway. He only recognised one of the two people there, the taller out of the both of them. Max Jagerman, Pete’s worst nightmare, stood talking to someone who gave Peter a vicious sense of déjà vu. He was shorter than Max, which wasn’t a surprise. Most people were shorter than Max. He was 6’3 and fucking terrifying at that height alone. Any taller and Pete was sure everyone would be dead. He’d have too much power. Eternal power, maybe. Pete didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. Another notable thing about the figure was he was leaning against the wall and seemed way too casual. He was wearing a striped shirt tucked into blue jeans and a denim jacket over the top. Pete counted seven different coloured pins shining on one of the pockets. He had slicked back black hair, a flat cap and combat boots.

“Who the fuck is Max talking to?” Pete asked her. “I’ve never seen that guy in my life…”

“…you haven’t?”

“No.”

“I…I thought you would’ve?”

“Have you seen him?”

She nodded. “…he’s…he’s another of Wiggly’s assistants.”

“What?!”

“His name…he’s like, Wiggly’s quote on quote uncle or something? He goes by Uncle Wiley? Like-“

“Like Uncle Wiley toys, oh my god.”

“Yeah! So he’s the bitch responsible for the mass mania last time and-“

“So he must know about you then. Mustn’t he?”

“In which way?”

“About Wiggly being in your mind?”

Steph nodded. “Oh yeah. No, he knows…He saw it happen.”

“He what?”

“Peter, it’s a long story, like, a really long story-“

“Some denim clad bastard watched you be taken over by Wiggly and he did nothing to stop it?”

“I’m literally begging you, that isn’t the point.”

“Then what is the point?! If he could’ve stopped it-“

“The point is that if what we saw with Max earlier is true then this guy, who also has links with The Black and White, is on Max’s tail or in communications with him or something!”

“…what are you trying to say?”

“That guy, Uncle Wiley, he’s in talks with the devil. If Max is in talks with a guy who’s also in talks with the devil then-“

“Then Max is also in talks with the devil?!”

“Exactly!”

Pete looked back to Max, then back to Steph. “…Max Jagerman is in talks with the literal devil.”

“I think so, at least.”

“Oh, we are fucked, we are so fucked…” Pete pressed his back against the wall, looking over to the bushes. “If Max is speaking with Wiggly then…he’s already the most powerful man in Hatchetfield High. He could be the most powerful man on the island if he wanted to cross that line. Who knows what the hell he’s gonna do with Wiggly on his side!”

“Probably try to kill me, I’d expect…” Steph turned, shutting her eyes. Sliding down against the wall, she said, “I’m dead, I’m so dead.”

“Not on my watch.”

Now sat on the floor, running a hand through her hair, she sighed softly. “Pete, don’t try and play hero about this. He hates every part of me for what I let happen to him back on Black Friday. If he has the opportunity to kill me, he will not stop until I am dead. So yeah, Pete. I’m dead. I’m so fucking dead-“

“Uh, Steph, sorry to cut off your lamenting and shit but…but I really don’t know what to say or how to help you but I think that might be Boy Jerry in the bus.”

“In the what?” Steph looked across from her to the bushes Pete had previously been staring at to see a shadow-covered figure lying within the leaves. With a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other, there lay Jerry Hachett. “…what the fuck?”

“This is not the weirdest thing that has happened tonight. I’m so confused.” He looked down at Steph. “We can’t just leave this. We’ve gotta tell someone about this at least.”

“Come on, Peter. Who’s gonna believe us about anything we’ve said? Max died in a different timeline, the very same we crashed through the borders of to land here, and now he wants me dead?!”

“What about your dad?!” Pete asked, lowering his voice, cautious of new footsteps that had suddenly risen. “Isn’t he always saying there are things about this island that you wouldn’t believe?! Maybe he knows-“

“Please. You think dad would listen to me?!” She almost laughed. “You know, babe, you are funny.”

Usually Pete would interpret that as a compliment. By how dry her tone was, instead, Pete found himself tensing. “…I’m not…it wasn’t my intention to be…Steph, I’m not joking around. I’m serious-“

“You know I can’t talk to my dad about this.”

“But it’s worth a shot! We could be in some serious danger here!”

“Like we weren’t last time?! Or in The Apotheosis?!”

“I-Steph, I’m trying to help-“

“Help how!? Because I don’t think this can be helped!”

“It’s still worth a shot at least!”

“Even if I were to talk to him, what would I say?! Hi, Solomon! I did a really stupid thing in a past dimension, ended up getting thrown through time and space by my boyfriend and now there’s a literal fucking god in my brain?! Pete, that sounds insane!”

“I know but Steph, I’m worried!”

“Then stay worried!” She stood herself back up. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do aside from deal with this. We got ourselves into this mess. We need to get ourselves out of it! We can’t ask for help because it’s the most elaborately told lie in history!”

“It isn’t a lie-“

“But we’re the only one’s to know that!” She looked at him. “I get what you’re trying to say, I do, but we can’t take this to anyone. We just have to let this simmer out…”

“…and what if you get seriously hurt because I didn’t speak up?”

“…I’d rather it be me to die than you. You get a second chance. I get freedom-“

Before Pete could ask her what she meant by that, he was interrupted by a third voice.

“The fuck are you two bozos doing here? Date night?”

Pete failed to cover his cool. Steph, however, as one of the popular kids and the mayor’s daughter, knew exactly what she should be doing in terms of keeping a secret. “Why does it concern you, Max?”

“Everything anyone does concerns me and you know it. They don’t call me the King of Hatchetfield High for nothing.”

“They call you the king because you’re a dick.”

“Aww.” Max placed a hand to his heart. “Touching, Steph.”

“Me and Pete were just going anyway so we’ll be outta your hair.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not staying.”

Pete looked up to Max, his eyes immediately flicking back down out of fear. “…where are you going, then?”

Without missing a beat, Max answered, “wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” He spun on his heel to face Steph, back completely turned to Pete. “Anyway. I’m here because I was speaking to my dealer.” He produced a baggie of weed from the pocket of his jeans. “And now I am off to go and see my delightful girlfriend.”

“What? Grace? She’s hardly delightful.”

“You just don’t get her like I do.” He smirked. “Now bye, Stephie. Let’s hope nothing completely and utterly awful happens to you on your way home! Caw caw, go Nighthawks.” He laughed, strutting off towards his pathetic red BMW.

As he drove off, Peter turned back to Stephanie, blinking out of shock. “…I don’t like those implications. He is implying things, and I am thinking about that.”

“…I mean, what harm can he really do to me when I’ve got The Lord In Black on my side, right?” Steph looked at him. “…I’m sure I’ll be fine and I’m sure nothing is actually going to happen. An empty taunt. He has a lot of those.”

“Are you sure-“

“So.” Steph cut him off. “Want a blowjob or what? Why waste a Pasqualli’s trip when we’re still here?”

Pete thought about it for a second. “…okay, sure, yeah.”

“Great-!”

“But.” He caught her hand. “Promise me you’ll talk to me if something happens. I don’t know if I could…if I knew you were in danger and you got hurt, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

She cupped his cheek, kissing him. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know. Now, I’ve got a perfectly good backseat. It’d be a shame to put it to waste, right?”

“Right.”

“Then let’s ignore tonight, and the fact Boy Jerry’s suspiciously in the bushes, and let’s go have some real fuckin’ fun.”

If a teenager’s idea of fun was sex then Max Jagerman also had “fun” on his mind.

Max Jagerman had spoken in person with Wilbur Cross regarding his slip ups in the hallway. Nibblenephim wasn’t happy, as it turned out. Wasn’t happy by the fact that he’d been so open about what was going on behind the shuttered windows of Hatchetfield High. How could Max have known that in killing Jeri Woods, it’d mean Miss Holloway would be the new guidance counsellor? He couldn’t have known. This was not his fault. He had made an earnest mistake, he’d admit that, and now, unfortunately, Miss Holloway was on his tail.

She had a spell cast over her office. That was what felt off about the room. While unable to depict what had changed whole sat in the room, it clicked when he was with Wilbur. He’d dealt Max the weed as a cover up plan, weed that Nibbly had grown apparently, and had told Max the truth. That Holloway cast a spell over the office which prevented any link regarding The Black and White to access that room. Anything spoken there would be told in confidentiality without anyone being able to see or hear. She was trying to get Max on her side. She was trying to get Max away from the best life he'd ever lived.

He needed to stay away from her.

The talk had been fine. It had felt like he’d been being scolded, like he’d broken a vase and his dad was telling him off for it. That was how it had felt like. Unfortunately, he never did care for punishment, so he was off to live the only life he knew. One filled with rebellion. One filled with sin and dirt and vileness.

In other words, he was off to the Chasity household to go and warn Grace about Miss Holloway.

He had a plan, but for that plan to work, he needed to get her parents on his side. All he knew about the Chasitys were that they were raging Christians, and he was almost certain that a boy like him in their house wouldn’t fly well. He cleaned himself up in his car. Gelled his hair back down, reapplied cologne, etcetera. Anything he thought would win over her parents he did. That also included making an impromptu stop at the new florists store that had opened on Main Street.

It was a run down little store with yellowed wallpaper and dark oak flooring. Max could see through the back window to see the room where the bouquets were actually made. It was almost stacked to the brim with flowers. It seemed business wasn’t doing too well. What a shame. Maybe they should invest in more roses. People were always after roses. The owner should know that. He was a biologist and a hopeless romantic.

Oh yeah. Max Jagerman was no stranger to the likes of Henry Hidgens. Originally a biology professor at the Hatchetfield community college, he had since retired to focus on personal projects. Personal projects which Max, when purchasing a bouquet of red roses, discovered were two musicals. One called Workin Boys!, which was about Henry Hidgens and his time in college with, two quote the professor, “my six boyfriends-I mean! The six best friends I’d ever known!” The second was a little more interesting and had a little bit more of a chance of getting produced. It went by the name Real Grass: The Musical About A Workin’ Boy In A Plant Store (A New Musical) which Hidgens claimed was a working title. Max didn’t believe him, because when he was being told the premise of the show discovered it was actually Workin Boys disguised to fit the plot of Little Shop Of Horrors.

After escaping Henry Hidgens’ insane grasp, Max drove his ass away from the store, now realising why business wasn’t booming. But, he could think about that later. Now was time for the main plan to begin.

He knocked thrice and there, at the door, stood Mark Chasity, Grace’s father. “Good evenin’, Mr Chasity. I know it’s so late at night, but it would be such a bother if I caught Grace? I have something rather important to tell her. It’s regarding school. You see, Mr Chasity, I recently signed up to get homecoming cancelled and I wanted to ask Grace’s opinion on something. It simply couldn’t wait!”

Max watched as admiration successfully flooded Mark Chasity’s eyes. “Well, of course, my boy! If you must talk to my daughter regarding getting homecoming cancelled then you must talk to her at once!”

“Why, thank you, sir.”

“Please, my boy, step in!” Mark stepped aside and in entered Max. “I’m glad you have your head screwed on. I do not know what has gotten into our Gracie-“

My dick, Max thought.

“-but she is determined not to get the dance cancelled! She is insistent the dance is opened up to the parents which, in mine and our mother’s opinion, is simply uncalled for!”

“If you allow me to go and find Grace, I’ll knock some sense into her.”

“I have no doubts about that. You’ve got…some arm on you.” Mark looked Max up and down and, if Max’s eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he could’ve sworn Mark bit his lip.

Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling, Max produced the bouquet of red roses from behind his back. “Oh! Consider these a gift. From me. They were for Grace. She said they were her favourite flowers, so I went off and bought some before I got here.”

Mark chuckled, taking them. “How considerate of you, boy! Follow me through, why don’t you?”

So, he did. “You’re looking rather smart tonight, Mr Chasity.”

“Ah. It’s the church conference down at the church.”

I could never have figured that out. Not a church conference at a church, Max thought again.

“Me and our mother, Karen, are to attend at once! We have to wear our best clothes! Our best clothes that are not our Sunday clothes. They are strictly for church!”

“Oh, of course, of course!” Max nodded along, heading through to the Chasity’s living room. “Good evening, Mrs Chasity.”

Karen Chasity looked up from her copy of The Bible that she was reading. At once, she stood. “Oh goshness! Maxwell Jagerman?! In our living room! Oh, Mark! Whatever do we owe the pleasure?”

“He’s here for our Gracie! He’s come to persuade her to get the dance cancelled entirely!”

Max let his thoughts take over again in the form of: I’ll be coming here, and I’ll be making her cum too-

Karen delicately placed a hand to her chest, gasping delighted. “Well, thank gosh! But we must be leaving for the church conference at the church soon! Whatever will we do!? A boy and a girl?! In our home! Alone! Unattended! Strictly uncalled for!”

“Don’t you worry, Miss Chasity. I ensure you, I will not be staying for too long. My father wants me home soon anyway. I just figured I’d better knock some sense into Grace while I still could. Before she takes it to the school board, I mean.”

“Oh, of course, of course…I suppose on this one occasion it wouldn’t matter too much. And the church will understand when they realise the motive!”

“Of course they will!” Mark said. “Now, mother. I’m going to go and call Gracie. I shall be back in a second.”

As promised, a second later, Mark returned and, following him, was Grace. “…Max?” She asked. “What are you doing in my house of all places?!”

“He wishes to talk to you, sweetie.” Karen said, brushing down her cardigan.

Mark cleared his throat. “House rules, you two. Doors open at all times. No doors will close while a boy is over! And behave.”

“Yes, sir.” Max said. “Have an enjoyable night.” He watched as Mark and Karen left, waited until their car was gone from the driveway before he turned to Grace. “Your dad calls your mom “mother” a lot.”

“…does he?” Grace tilted her head. “I didn’t notice.”

“Look. Me and you? We need to talk.”

“Shoot. About what?”

“Can we talk in your bedroom, maybe?”

“You know my father would kill me. Correct? If he found out I broke the number one house rule! I would be toast! Burnt toast! That’s the only kind of toast my dad knows how to make! That’s why he can’t be let near the toaster! He burns it, Max! He burns the toast!”

Max pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhh and listen. Alright?”

She nodded.

Not yet drawing his hand away, he told her what he’d been wanting to say all along. “Gracie. Steph and Pete are on to us. About Bliklotep and Nibblenephim.”

“…shoot.” She said, voice slightly distorted by the fact Max was still shushing her. “How do you know?”

“I was summoned by Wilbur Cross, to speak outside of Pasqualli’s. We did. He said that Nibbly’s not happy with me because I spoke about our prophetism in public right outside Miss Holloway’s office-“

“Who’s Miss Holloway?”

“A long story, babe, but to keep it short, she’s an enemy of The Lords and an enemy of Wilbur Cross, and our new guidance counsellor, though she goes by Miss Holliday. She’s a witch, and we need to stay as far away from her as possible. Got it?”

“Yes. Got it. I think.”

“Okay. Good. So, when I went to go back to my car, I saw Peter Spankoffski and Stephanie Lauter, and I heard them fighting.” He smirked, finally pulling his hand away. “As it turns out, the sensation of having Wiggog Y’Wrath in her mind is finally getting to her. She can’t stay innocent forever. She’s getting mad…mad at Peter. And while getting mad at Peter, she happened to let slip that she knows Wilbur Cross too.”

“How?”

“When she was signing the deal to sell her soul to Wiggly back when I died, he was there in Wiggly’s place or something. I genuinely don’t know the full story. That’s the best I can explain it. But she’s-Steph’s on to us, basically.”

“…on to me, too?”

“She doesn’t suspect you yet, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she begins to.”

Grace folded her arms against her chest. “So what are we meant to do, Max?! I don’t want to give this up! I don’t want to lose!”

“And you won’t lose because you’re not a loser. They are. As King of Hatchetfield High, I say they’re losers and do you know what I do to losers?”

“I do not. Enlighten me.”

“I pound ‘em into a bloody pulp and feed them to the cannibal who’s deserving of a new taste.” He put his hands on Grace’s shoulders. “Nibblenephim wants in, Gracie. He don’t want me holding back no longer.”

“Then what do we need to do?”

“We need to begin phase 2.”

“Which is?”

He looked her up and down. “…can we speak somewhere more private? I wanna see your bible-“

“Oh, for goshness’ sake.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the living room. “You’re insufferable.”

“I got you roses.”

“Cute.”

“I did! From that kooky flower store that just opened and everything! You said they were your favourites! I’m so considerate, especially towards you!”

“I appreciate it. I really do, but I don’t appreciate you trying to get in my bedroom so easily…but I do love roses.”

“I know.” At the top of the stairs, she dropped his hand, but he kept following. “So, in that plant store, I had a striking sense of déjà vu again and something felt out of place. Then I remembered, Nibbly’s pink flytrap he’s acquired.”

“His what?”

“…he had a Venus Flytrap on the desk when he was hiring me to do his dirty work. Except it was pink, like him.”

“Oh. That’s anticlimactic.”

“Except…that flytrap isn’t from our universe, so it’s disrupted someone else’s dimension. Because Pete didn’t go to Beanie’s, someone else’s life is ruined now, and it’s not ours’.”

“How is this relevant?”

“Because the flytrap being in The Black and White meant it isn’t in the store! And because there was that tiny timeline disruption, it meant that in some universe, a nerd hasn’t died!” He stepped into Grace’s bedroom, looking at her. “Nibbly wants those nerds dead, Gracie. It’s up to us to kill ‘em.”

“Killing is a sin.”

“Trust me, babe, I’m aware. But, Nibblenephim wants Phase 2 activated, and it’s up to me to get this smoke show rolling. So. These nerds need to die.”

Grace sat down on her bed, looking up at him. “…which nerds?”

“Richie Lipschitz, Ruth Fleming, Peter Spankoffski and, most importantly, the girl responsible for my death, Stephanie Lauter. The question, really, is how are we going to do that? What is a common trait that they share?” He asked her, sitting down next to her.

Max pretended to think on it while Grace genuinely did. After a while, she turned to him. “…the five of them are into their theatrics.”

“And?”

“And they hate you.”

“So to combine them…?”

Max watched the gears in Grace’s brain start to grind together, a plan forming. “Ruth still thinks I’m her friend. She still thinks I’m normal. Not in links with the almighty. She doesn’t think I’m not one with The Watcher With One Thousand Eyes, as does Richie. So, I could convince them that I hate you.”

“And?” Max asked, smirking.

“And…I could convince them we put on a show to scare you into…leaving them alone? But-but we could stage it! Me and you! So something happens to you-you’re already dead, you can’t die again.”

“Exactly.”

“So you could die, or fake die, and then, when it’s safe, you can come back and kapow! You strike and the slaughtering of S. Lauter begins?”

“The fucking what?”

Grace blushed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “…The Slaughtering of S. Lauter? Because Steph’s initials and…anyway, I thought it was a catchy plan name-“

“Oh, it was. That was very good, Gracie, you good girl.” He cupped her cheek. “Excellent plan, babe.”

“Thank you, Max.” She kicked her legs enthusiastically as her eyes lit up with another idea. “We could do it at The Waylon Place!”

“…do it?”

“Don’t be dirty.” She shoved him off her. “Host the plan. It’s structurally unsound and my dad’s the realtor! Easy game! Instant win!”

“Good. So, The Waylon Place is where we’ll go.”

She nodded, looking back to him. “I feel like there’s a catch.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But may I raise you a question?”

“Sure.”

“You’ve already met God.” He moved, climbing on top of her in a split second. “And your parents aren’t home. How about we take things to the next level?”

Grace looked up at him, those butterflies in both her stomach and her mommy spot returning. She’d only just got out the bath, but this was so much better than imagining Max in her dirty girl soup. “…huh?”

“Don’t pretend you’re so innocent, sweetheart. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Admit it to yourself.” He dropped his jacket to the ground. “You want me, don’t you?”

“I-“

“Oh, don’t answer that. Of course you do. You dirty girl. I can smell it on you.”

“M-Max-“

“This could be a one time offer. Are you really gonna pass this down while I’m right here?”

“Is this really necessary?”

“In a way, to push your buttons will activate the big red one to put Phase 2 in motion. Besides…I know you want me. And I want you too.” Sultrily, he let his shirt drop, a crucifix hanging from around his neck. “How about we stop pretending and just do?”

“…oh, frick it. Give me two seconds.”

“Take as long as you need. It’ll give me more time to imagine you-“

Grace shut her eyes. “To the Lord I worship, Mister Bliklotep. I get you’re The Watcher With One Thousand Eyes but I am begging for you not to watch me lose my virginity. Thank you. Sincerely, Grace. Amen.” She opened her eyes, the static in her brain lifting. “Oh, he listened.”

“Who, Blinky?”

“I asked him not to watch. I get he’s a pervert but for goshness sakes, he doesn’t need to be here for this.”

“You’re right, babe, you’re so right.” He parted her legs, slipping between them. “So, what do you say, my dirty girl? Wanna go all the way?”

All it took was a nod, then a kiss, and though the night came to a close, something new was coming to afront. Phase two. The final battle. The unbeatable, unbreakable plot. Nobody would know what was about to hit them, not until it was too late anyway. Too late…or until that meteor, once again, came hurtling down to destroy the indestructible. This time, The Lords wouldn’t rest. This time, they had a guaranteed win, and with Max on their side, they were winning.

Who were they kidding? With Max on their side, they’d already won.

Chapter Text

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Grace Chasity pulled on her nightgown, one of seven she owned. They were in all different colours. Duck egg blue, rose pink, mint green, beige, cream, white, to name a few. The seventh one, her favourite, was the one she was wearing that night. Lilac. She slipped it over her body, letting the cotton cling to the beads of sweat that soaked her. Max Jagerman hadn’t been the only one putting in the physical work that night. Maybe that had been his intention, but he’d clearly never met her. Maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew when it came down to dating her, but she didn’t care. This was her newfound lifestyle, and honestly? She’d rather be this version of herself than any other.

“I needed that,” she said gently, lifting up her hairbrush from the vanity table, beginning to tame the brunette strands.

Max lay there, propping himself up on his elbows, chest still heaving. “You needed that?” He stared at her while she said nothing. “I thought it was supposed to be me to dominate this plan!”

“Yes. And you will dominate the plan…just not me.” She smiled innocently, looking back at him. “Besides. I do have a thing for men and crucifixes, haven’t you heard?”

“Glad the crucifix turned you on, babe.”

“It wasn’t just the crucifix. You’re already a good looking man.” She turned back around. “A good looking man who deserved to be so subtle.” She set her hairbrush down, crawling back over to him. “That starts now. Stay lying.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She lay down next to him, lying on her side, wrapping his arms around him. “You’re shaking.”

He immediately looked at her. “Hey. I don’t little spoon.”

“Maybe not with people like Brenda or Stacey or Steph…but you will with me. Tell me, Max. When was the last time someone took care of you like you wanted?”

Max moved, staring at the other side of her room, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I fail to see how that’s relevant, Gracie.”

“The entire island knows about the situationship between you and your father. Everyone knows it’s where your brutish attitude comes from, but I don’t think that’s you deep down.”

“You hardly even know me.”

“You’re right. But, we had premarital S-E-X and I think that is good enough of a reason for me to finally start getting to know my boyfriend.”

“…you…you called me your boyfriend?”

“It is what you are after all. Right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you never seemed too happy with me saying that outright in public-“

“Only because I would dread what my father would say if he heard I was dating. I mean, you haven’t even carried my books yet!”

“…Grace. You just pegged me after I nailed you hard. I don’t think I need to carry your books-“

“Shh, my father won’t know that.”

“Why do you even have shit to peg me with anyway?! You’re like, the most intense Christian I’ve ever met.”

“Every girl has her secrets, and I have mine. You deserved to feel pleasure too.”

“I didn’t realise you paid attention in sex-ed classes.”

“I paid attention out of disgust…do you feel better?”

“Gracie, sweetheart, I can reassure you, I’ve never felt better than I have now.” He watched as she moved one of her hands, currently holding him tightly, letting him go. She offered her his hand and he, confused as to why she would, took it anyway.

There was a brief silence between the two as he lay there in his arms, her thumb running over his knuckles. “You’re tense.”

“…it’s not too often I find that a girl I like likes me back. Especially not like this.”

“When was the last time you were loved?”

“…it’s hard to tell. Probably when me and Steph-“

“She didn’t love you.” Grace told him. “If she loved you, why would she have let you go so easily for someone like Spankoffski?”

“…you’re right.”

“But you loved her.”

“Of course I did…I may be a monster but I still care…and when she lost her mom, I was the only one who understood her. Nope. Looking back, it was stupid, to think there was anything there between us. To think I wasn’t just something to elevate her status.”

Grace crinkled her nose up. “She tells everyone you dated her to elevate your status?”

“Why would I need to when I’m the Jagerman, ya know?” He sighed. “It’s…it’s just a lot.”

“I can tell, but Stephanie hurt you, didn’t she?”

“…Admittedly, everyone has hurt me one way or another. Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does matter. You deserve to be loved too.”

“…you know, I don’t even know why I went to the plant store today. Like, I coulda just gone to the supermarket and bought some of the cheap ones but nope. I went to a fuckin’ florist that just so happened to be run by my dickhead dad’s ex best friend who is technically my uncle…he’s the only person I’ve ever known to see me and be happy about it.”

“I’d be happy to see you.” She squeezed his hand. “And if people to fail to know that now, they’ll see how wrong they were to ignore you. Max, you deserve this. You deserve all of this.”

“Do I?”

“Everyone deserves to be loved, no matter how awful they are.”

“Gee. Thanks, Grace.”

“I’m serious.” She held him closer. “But with me by your side, they’ll never fully understand what’s hit them. Now, Maxie, do you mind passing me my phone? I believe we have an event at The Waylon Place to organise.”

Max smiled gently, taking her phone from her bedside table, passing it behind him. “You realise I won’t be able to stay. Your father may just kill me if he finds out about what we did.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll cover it. Besides, can he kill the already dead?”

“…that is a fuckin’ good question, babe.”

He felt her untangle her hand from his, cupping his chin, tilting his head so he’d look at her. There, with that soft look in her eyes, she told him, “they’ll see how much they wronged you. Leave it up to me.”

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy when you dominate. You know that?”

“By those noises you made, I got the gist.”

“I don’t think I’m walking for a week.”

“You’d better fix that.” She said, letting go of his hand so she could type out a message. “Because, if all goes according to plan, we’re Waylon Place’ing tomorrow, so be ready, babe.”

“Oh Gracie. I’m ready to do anything as long as it’s with you.”

“Flirt.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe I do, how will you know?”

“You make some pretty cute noises yourself.” He moved upwards, resting his head on her shoulder. “Now. Does daddy get a kiss goodbye?”

Grace went red. “Don’t. I’m embarrassed about that.”

“Your dad calls your own mom “mother.” You call me daddy. What’s the difference?”

“Again, I’m pretty sure my dad doesn’t call my mom “mother.” I’m pretty sure I’d know if he did.”

“Whatever. It don’t matter. I’ve had girls say weirder things to me. I’ve had people call me their own dad’s names before so.” He shrugged. “Now answer my question. Does daddy get a kiss goodbye?”

“Just so it’ll shut you up, yes.” Pulling him in, she kissed him gently as the read receipt and a text bubble came through on Grace Chasity’s phone.

Today was for them. Tomorrow was for The Waylon Place. Tomorrow, things were gonna be free, and they were going to win.

It was at lunch the next day when Steph finally found a good excuse to bring up the hot topic. There was a very gentle cottony feeling in her mind, blurring a lot of her thoughts and, on top of that, if she turned her head too fast, she was almost certain she was able to see a crown-wearing cardigan lover in the further point of her peripheral vision. Something was going down, and she needed to warn Peter as discreetly as possible. Though she knew something was happening, she could tell that neither Ruth, Richie or Pete knew it. She was almost hesitant to say anything. Ruth and Richie looked really happy, for some reason. She didn’t want to ruin their high spirits.

Luckily for her, Peter was the one to bring it up. “Am I imagining things? Or is there something going on between you two?” He asked, waggling a finger between the pair.

At once, Ruth burst out into giggles but, as per usual, Richie remained monotone-faced. “Why?” He asked him.

“You seem different.”

“Maybe.” Richie bit into his wrap.

“…are you going to expand on that or…?”

Ruth leaned her head against Richie’s shoulder. “Ya know, Richie’s like…really good in bed. I came like eight times.”

“Four, I counted.” Richie said, all too casually.

Pete looked between them. “What the fuck?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Pete?” Richie asked him. “Me and Ruth had sex. She’s my girlfriend now.”

Steph looked between the two of them. “What like…for real?”

Ruth nodded, her grin wide. “Someone’s girlfriend.”

Richie looked down at her, his monotonous expression fading as his smile broke through. “Yeah. My girlfriend.”

“And you’re my boyfriend-“ She wrapped her arms around him, shaking him with all the force her five foot body would allow.

“Jesus, Ruth, I’m eating!” He laughed.

“Eating this PUSSY-“

“Ruth!” Richie laughed again, all but choking on his words. “Jesus Christ!”

“Jesus can’t save us now. Thank God Grace isn’t here.”

“Uh, weird segue between topics but did you guys get a message from Grace last night? Around 9?”

Richie clicked his fingers, looking at her as Ruth finally stopped shaking him. “Yes! I did! She said something about holding a studying session in The Old Waylon Place?”

“Oh wait, I thought that was a joke.” Ruth looked up at him. “I thought she was bullying me.”

“No, I got that message too…” Pete said, shifting. “I also thought she was like, lowkey fucking with us but…a study session? At the Waylon Place?”

“My mom says that shit was owned by cultists.” Ruth told them. “Like, actual genuine cultists. Apparently they got murdered by the Metzgers. I don’t know, I don’t pay attention to the history of this fuckin’ island and I probably should. It’d explain most of the weird shit that happens here, to be perfectly honest.”

“Guaranteed.” Steph nodded. “Yeah. Dad doesn’t like talking about the supernatural shit. He really doesn’t, but I’m just like, Solomon. It’s Hatchetfield. It’s literally unavoidable.”

“Inevitable, one could say.” Pete added on.

“Exactly. Like, we live here, we may as well come to terms with the fact shit goes wrong every fucking day. Like, it’s logical. It’s really quite logical. And he claims to be the smartest guy on the island like?” She shook her head. “I hate my fucking dad.”

“Problematic dad club rise,” Pete said.

Steph, Richie and Pete all gave a half-enthusiastic cheer.

Ruth stared at them. “Could never be me.”

“Yeah, sorry you got to grow up with decent parents. We don’t get that privilege.” Richie said.

“It’s okay, Richie. Mom and dad love you anyway and they were very happy for us, which means you’re already the favourite boyfriend.”

Richie shrugged. “What can I say? I wowed your dad with all my facts on Attack On Titan.”

“The fact you came round to my house for fucking burger night and then that somehow led to you info dumping to my dad, and now you’ve got my dad to watch Attack On Titan is beyond me.”

It probably wasn’t the reaction Ruth was expecting, but still, Richie’s eyes lit up. “Your dad’s actually gonna watch it?!”

“Yes, he said he would, and I’m pretty sure he wants you to watch it with him. He’s all like, ‘oh, Ruth! My mind is getting old now! You wouldn’t mind asking young Mr Lipschitz to watch it with me? He’s educated on the topic of anime-‘”

“Your dad is a fucking icon. I love him.”

“My dad loves you.”

“God bless Russell Fleming, let’s pray nothing happens to him.”

“Uh, speaking of praying…” Pete interrupted, gesturing behind Ruth and Richie.

Both of them turned their heads to see none other than Grace Chasity walking over to their table. She had a textbook in her hand and, from what it looked like by how far away he was, she’d been walking with Max. There was another peculiar thing. Max Jagerman was limping. Ever so slightly, but to the keen eye, also known as Ruth Fleming, she’d know these things. She’d be able to spot them.

“Max is limping.” She said outrightly.

“Probably had a rough night.” Steph shrugged.

“Doing what?” Pete asked her, turning to look at her. “You saw him last night. He got dealt weed so what else could he have possibly be doing?”

“Fucking Grace?” Ruth offered, causing everyone else on the table to laugh. “I bet Grace is into some really freaky shit.”

“Grace Chasity wants to suck Jesus off.” Richie said.

“I want to suck you off-“

“What the utter freak did I just hear come from your mouth, Ruth Fleming?” Grace asked, suddenly standing directly behind her.

“I don’t think I cum from my mouth but I’ll let you know after mine and Richie’s night together tonight-“

“Ew! Gross!” Grace physically cringed “Why are you like this?”

“Ask Sara Zimmerman, I’m sure she’d love to educate you.”

“Moving on!” She cleared her throat. “Did you guys see my text last night? I notice that you all left me on read. Apart form you, Stephanie. Congratulations.”

“Yes, we all saw your text about The Waylon Place.”

“Will you be there? We’re having a huge study session. Ya know, even Brenda and Kyle are going.”

“Okay but like, why?” Steph asked her. “If I wanted to study, I’d drag Pete’s ass back to Pasqualli’s. That’s our designated studying spot. We don’t need The Waylon Place to study-“

Grace slid herself between Richie and Steph. “I want to let you in on a teeny little secret. It’s not actually a studying session, and Brenda and Kyle aren’t coming.” She cracked her knuckles. “Do you know what we’re really going to do?”

“No, but enlighten us.” Pete said, taking a bite of the Milky Way Steph slid him earlier that hour.

“We’re going to put Max Jagerman in his place.”

Ruth laughed. “Really? Max?”

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?” Richie asked her, finishing off his wrap.

“Oh, please. If you think I would date Max Jagerman then you need to screw your head back on. No. In fact, here is what I think about Maxwell Jagerman. I think he has made all of our lives a living heck. You know, he’s more than a boy. He is nothing but an idea. An absent thought. And, he has struck fears in the heart of the meek and lust in the souls of the innocent. So, people like us, those deemed ‘nerdy prudes-‘”

“No, Grace. We’re deemed nerds. You’re deemed a prude. None of us on this table are prudes.” Richie corrected. “Especially not Ruth.”

“Yeah. Sex is fuckin’ great. As the British would say, have a wank once in a while-“

“Ruth, I’ve known you for so many years and I was unaware you could do a flawless British accent.”

“I watched Dan and Phil growing up.”

“I can’t believe my girlfriend’s a Phan.”

“You watch anime, shut up.” Ruth nudged him.

“This is literally abuse! I have three witnesses! Abuse!”

“Okay so, ignoring them,” Pete looked at Grace. “You think we can destroy Max Jagerman?”

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, he needs those below him to put him back in his place every once in a while and he is long overdue to be humbled. So, me, you guys and The Waylon Place tonight?”

 Steph set her lunchbox away in her bag just to look right back up to Grace. “Okay, but how? You think we can tackle Max Jagerman? I mean, I dated him. I know that he won’t listen to anyone but himself and honestly? I don’t think we can work.”

“That’s why he won’t be listening to us. He’ll be listening to the Father, Son and some “holy ghosts”…so, you guys in?”

“If this means seeing how sexy Max Jagerman is up close then sure, let’s fucking go for it. As long as we’re done by six. I have a dick appointment.”

“And I’m in if Ruth’s in by principal.”

“Good,” Grace looked to Richie. “I need you to film it and you’re the only person I know interested in film making.”

“Grace, I’m right here,” Steph told her.

“Ah! If Richie chickens out then you’ll be my backup! But what about you and Peter? Will you be there?”

Pete looked at Steph. Though biting his lip, he was leaning more into going. There was an anxious swirl in his stomach from the fear of the unknown but even he had to admit, knowing that Max Jagerman may be no more bought him a sense of comfort. To know that the bullying would stop, to know that the torture would cease. Just knowing that with Max humbled, he might finally leave Steph alone…it sold it for him. “…what do you think?” He asked her.

Steph looked up at her boyfriend. “I think it sounds absolutely insane. I dated the motherfucker, I know what he’s like and if this backfires, we’re all fucked.”

“And? What if it doesn’t backfire?” Pete took Steph’s hand. “What if this could be our one true shot of finally getting rid of the Max Jagerman everyone currently knows? What if we can, y’know…lay him to rest? Then, maybe, he might even leave us alone?”

Hoping he was saying what she thought he was, her eyes lit up. Him permanently leaving them alone may mean that the God in her head would fuck off once and for all. She’d get peace. She’d no longer have to deal with the deal she made out of haste. And, if Max went, it gave her hope for everything else. That Ruth, Richie and Pete would be safe too. That finally, the bullying within Hatchetfield High would end. That Max would be humbled and he’d retreat to a safer distance. He’d leave them alone. That was all she’d ever wanted, after all, for him to leave her alone. “…you think that might work?”

“We’ll never know if we don’t try, Steph.”

“Then fuck it. I’ll be seeing you guys at The Waylon Place tonight. Grace, send me the address.” She stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Ruth, wanna come with?”

“Absolutely, I love a good girl’s bathroom session.”

“What is it with you and the girl’s bathroom trips?” Richie asked Steph.

“It’s a whole thing in girl code. Girls go together because we can never be safe anywhere!”

“And that is why us girls will be at The Waylon Place tonight!” Ruth saluted to Grace. “We’ll be seeing you then!”

“Fantastic.” She grinned. “I literally cannot wait.”

It was that evening, right after school, when Richie Lipschitz, Ruth Fleming, Peter Spankoffski, Stephanie Lauter and Grace Chasity found themselves outside of The Waylon Place. It was, by far, the most notorious house in Hatchetfield directly after Henry Hidgens’ gothic mansion.

Standing tall and proud on Hickory, similarly to Hidgens’ home, it was made of dark wood cut from the trees the house rested on. Standing tall atop of The Witchwood Forest, that should really be the giving sign that something was off about the house. Everyone avoided Witchwood Forest for one reason and one reason only. All of the supernatural events happened seemed to stem from there, and no normal family went to Watcher World for the sake of fun. The Waylon Place (or Waylon Hall) was built on the outskirts of the woods but built from the trees The Hatchetmen so furiously guarded. That was why the house was shunned so badly. However, it was not fair to say it wasn’t a good looking house. It was beautiful. Beautifully gothic and nowhere near of the time period they lived in, but so beautifully regal it bought a time-stopping awe to the scene.

Steps made of stone led up to the majestic, now abandoned house. For something so abandoned, though, there had never been surer signs of life within it. Shadows that flittered just out of reach of the eye’s knowledge to confirm whether it was real or a figment of imagination and the cries of nighthawks that rested on the roof were the giveaways. Speaking of, the black-bricked roof was speckled with the stars of time, faint flecks of white scattered on top. The specks were made of cobwebs, ash and dust, most likely, but the illusion was beautiful to witness. There was also a spire atop of the house around the back, sticking out of the house’s small tower. The weather veil was that of a bird, probably a nighthawk like with everything else in Hatchetfield, and because of it’s anciency, it seemed to be stuck in the Waylon Place for eternity. Cobwebs disguised as string draped down from the front of the house like a curtain of vines hiding a magical garden, but these cobwebs also covered up the windows. Most of them had been boarded up, but there were few still able to be seen into. They could see into the first floor, then the second, which seemed to be a floor specifically for bedrooms, and then the third floor – the attic. There was an eery sensation among them, but the vibe in the air was filled with intrigue. There was no backing out now.

Grace fished the keys from her pocket, jingling them. “Told you I had them!”

“Why do you have the keys to this place anyway?” Steph asked her.

“My daddy’s the realtor! Now, are you coming or not?”

“Is what she said,” Ruth said under her breath, causing Richie to snicker.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re here.” Steph followed Grace up the stone stairs, following her into the house. The very first thing Steph noticed was a very large splintered floorboard directly underneath the staircase. “Oh shit, guys, careful. This house is not stable.”

“Neither is my mental health.” Ruth, once again, decided to add. “So. What’s the plan then? Why do we need to be here?”

“Because we’re bullying Max!”

“But why Waylon Hall specifically?”

“Ah! Good question! Thanks for asking, Ruth! Now come with me!” Grace started ascending the stairs. After looking behind her to see that the other four were following, she provided context. “So. This house was built in the 1910s by Mathias and Agatha Waylon, who were wealthy eccentric cultists. As much as I dislike hearing their names, I do have to credit them for what they built. They built this house and Hatchetfield’s most important landmarks. Without them, we wouldn’t have The Starlight Theatre, The Gazette, now CCRP Tech, the school house which would become Hatchetfield High and Lakeside Mall!”

“Lakeside Mall is in crippling debt.” Pete told her.

“But! It’s still important!” Grace tapped her fingers on the banister. “They took out some money from the bank or something and turned Hatchetfield into their own paradise to indulge in their eclectic interests. Just a little satanism, you know? Human sacrifices, demonic rituals and s-e-x magic!”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Think what you want, but I’m the one with the evidence.” She hopped up a step, continuing with her elaborate story. “Eventually, the people got tired of the cult and an angry mob burst through the front doors. They found the Waylons and their followers and hacked them to bloody bits with none other than a hatchet.”

“Symbolic,” Steph decided on adding as she reached the third floor.

“Exactly! But, it’s said that nothing really dies in Waylon Hall. The angry spirits of the Waylons roam the house to this very day and, when our plan is all set up, Max Jagerman is going to come into contact with these ghosts, and we’re gonna film the while thing! Then, we’re gonna upload it to the internet to show him peeing himself out of fear!”

Richie looked at Grace, the last one to reach the top floor. “Grace, that’s blackmail.”

“And I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Steph told her.

“Eh, whatever. But, he’s going to forever be known as hashtag potty pants, with capital p’s!”

“That’s lame.”

“And I don’t care! So, here’s the plan!” Grace did a spin, shaking her hands as a safe way to rid herself of her excitement. “So, we’re gonna bully the bully for starters. We’re gonna film all of it to prove we’re the top dogs. We are going to invoke his fury and watch him crumble before our very eyes. We will watch the fall of Max Jagerman happen in real time. He won’t be able to stop himself. He’ll be nothing but a pathetic little man! Then, we will have him judged by the public eye on Instagram and allow the rest of the island to decide his fate for him! Are we in or what?”

“Do we have a choice?” Pete asked.

“You do not! So! Peter, you’re going to be playing Mathias Waylon-“

“Okay, I did not agree to that under any circumstance.”

“And again! I don’t care!” She beamed. “Ruth, you’re gonna be in charge of tech and Richie, you’re gonna film all of this! I got you a camera, don’t worry, and Pete, I got you a costume. Steph, you need to message Max about a party here because he wouldn’t show up for a bible study.”

“…is that what you meant by study session? Bible study?”

“Yes! And it worked! I knew you were all of good faith deep down!”

“Right, whatever.” Steph pulled her phone out, sending Max a quick text.

“Then once Max is here, Pete’s gonna improv the freak out of being Mathias Waylon. He’s gonna jump out, he’s gonna scare the sheet out of Max and voila! We’re on top!”

“…and then the joke’s on him!” Ruth grinned. “Oh this is so good! I’m so here for this! Fuck Max Jagerman! Figuratively, not literally, but I wouldn’t mind literally either.”

Pete turned to Richie. “Are you okay with her saying this kind of shit?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind Max fucking me to hell either so-“

“Jesus Christ-“ Steph started but Grace glared in their direction.

“Don’t say the Lord’s name in vain! At least not around me!”

Rolling her eyes, Steph leaned into Pete. “If only she knew about who The Lord really was. She’d lose her shit.”

Pete laughed softly then. “Don’t break her heart.”

“She’s fuckin’ weird, I don’t even think she has one.” She looked down to her phone. “Ah! Max said he’s on his way! He’ll be like, an hour. He has to get off of…work? Max has a job?”

Grace nodded. “He works at the 7-11. He told me.”

“Okay Jason Dean.” Ruth said. “Does he actually?”

“He told me while trying to flirt that it was the only way he could escape home without seeming suspicious.”

“Oh yeah. The guy’s dad’s a dick.” Richie blinked, looking to his friends. “Maybe we should adopt him into our friend group. You know? Deluxe Dickhead Dad club and all?”

“But not my dad,” Ruth told him.

“But not Russell. Live laugh love Russell Fleming.”

“My dad’s not a dock either,” Grace said. “I love my daddy.”

“Great.” Steph shrugged.

“Anyway. Someone literally get Max Jagerman a trench coat.”

“Fun story, I brought him one once and he hated it but he’s still got it, and I know he does, because it was in his closet the last time I was at his house.” Steph told Ruth.

“Is it black?”

“Of course it’s black. It was on sale and he said he needed a coat and it was the only one that’d fit him because he’s impossibly tall, so.”

“Get the 7-11 employee a trench coat and call him Max Jay-Dee-German.” Ruth said, walking over to the tech desk.

Pete stared at Ruth for a second before he nodded. “Good pun Ruth. That was smart.”

“Thank you, I do my hardest.”

Grace took the opportunity to look back to Steph. “…did you say that Max is on his way?”

“Yes I did, but we’ve got like, an hour so…”

“Well, keep your freakin’ beans cool then! Everyone in position!”

“We’ve got an hour-“

“Get in position!”

Abiding by Grace’s rules, they did, in fact, get in position. For the next hour, Peter practised being who he deemed ‘the Lin Manuel Miranda-fication of Mathias Waylon’ based on his costume and Ruth got to grips with the lighting. Richie set up the camera and Steph…Steph stood and watched. Watched as her friends fiercely came together to take down the one man she’d been waiting to see the fall of since 2018. It was ironic, really.

She’d already watched him fall once. She hoped she didn’t have to see that again.

Out of boredom, she walked over to her boyfriend, sitting down on the steps beside him. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m nervous, but only because of the fact that this place is structurally unsound. That, and the fact I don’t think I’m a good actor, so.”

“I think you’re phenomenal.”

“You’ve never even seen me act.”

“No, but I know you well enough to know that you’re gonna be so amazing at playing a ghost. I mean…we’ve experienced death, so-“

“Steph.”

“I’m being honest!” She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around her. “…but I am excited. To watch his downfall. No more torture. No more torment.”

“And hopefully, no more Wiggly…”

“Here’s hoping to no more migraines.”

“And no more murder.”

“And no more dead nighthawks.”

Pete laughed again. “…and if this backfires…we’re still gonna have each other, right?”

She looked up at him. “Of course we are.” She kissed him softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“…promise?” He asked in a whisper, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“It’s a promise I’d never break.” She kissed him a third and final time before she pulled away. “Now, Tulip, I don’t think Mathias Waylon would wear glasses.”

“…oh shit, you’re right-“ He took them off, blinking to adjust to the blurry world around him. “Uh, mind taking them? I know you could keep them safe.”

“Of course I can.” She kissed his cheek, taking his glasses, very carefully placing them in her pocket. As she did so, she grabbed her phone, looking at her screen. “Oh, shit! Guys! Max is coming up the walkway, he just texted!”

“Shit!” Pete jumped up. “Oh, this is happening.”

“And you’re gonna be great!” Ruth called from the other side of the attic. “I promise! You’re gonna do good! The issue is that if I have to come out dressed as a fucking skeleton, I’m gonna bomb it so hard!” She wriggled into the suit, Richie zipping her up. “I don’t want my first acting credit to be Skeleton – Hashtag Potty Pants! That’s so lame!”

“What noises do skeletons even make?”

“Bone rattle, Richie, we play Minecraft together.” She told her boyfriend.

“You can’t make those noises, though.”

“If it really comes down to it, I’ll figure something out.” She turned around to Richie, smiling softly. “Kiss good luck?”

“How could I ever deny that?” He leaned in, gently kissing her.

She kissed him back, giggling as she did so. “I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend, but here we are.”

Ruth turned back to Grace. “This is gonna be done by six, right? I still have my dick appointment-“

“Yes! It’ll be done by six!” Grace hissed, checking her phone, sending a text. “Now get into position! Operation Potty Pants is about to commence!”

Falling silent, everyone got into position as promised. Ruth waiting out behind a tattered curtain with her tech board, Richie just next to her with the camera going, Steph with Grace and Pete in the shadows. Five drastically different people with one common motive – to bully the bully. Goosebumps rose on their skin as they heard the front door open, and the adrenaline began pumping as soon as they heard Max’s voice shout, “Steph! I brought the brews!”

Tonight was about to be historic. Tonight, they were going to witness the fall of Max Jagerman. Everything ended tonight, and it was about time Max was sent back to Hell. After all. Burning in the seventh layer was what he deserved, he just needed a gentle push to send him back. If that gentle push had to happen in the form of this film, then let it be.

Max Jagerman would be gone tonight. Max Jagerman would be nothing. About damn time. It was time for those rightful of ruling to get their turn. This was the fall of Max Jagerman and the rise of the nerds. These were only the hands of fate, after all. It wasn’t their fault it had to happen this way. It was fate’s, and all they could do now was leave Max’s end in fate’s hands and wait it out.

Chapter Text

To prepare for reliving the worst day of his life did not leave him enough time to ready his emotional state. This would reopen traumas he’d been desperately avoiding and deep down, he didn’t know if he could do it. The one thing he did know for certain was the outlines of the plan. He and Grace had gone over it about a thousand times by that point. They both had it down to a T. He knew, that with this plan, there was absolutely no room for anything to go wrong. He knew, for Phase 2 to go ahead, he had to be the one to die. He couldn’t chicken out. This plan was resting on his shoulders and, as much as he hated admitting it, he knew that he had to die for the world to thrive. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already dead anyway and it wasn’t like he wasn’t coming back immediately afterwards. He’d done it once, he could easily do it again. There, he asked himself one very simple question before he began his journey to the attic of The Waylon Place. What harm would falling from the top layer of another building do to him?

Actually, now that he thought about it, ending up in the same situation twice was fucking weird. Falling from the top of The Lakeside Mall had not been intentional. Nobody could have ever predicted that’d be his fate. Not him, not Steph and probably not Solomon either. Nobody could’ve predicted that some stupid green wiggly fucking doll would’ve started riots across America, and nobody could’ve predicted the ending of that day anyway. It sounded too fictional to be real. Still, he had died to save Steph which, in hindsight, he regret deeply. He had thought something good would have come from it. That something good would have come from her. He was wrong. He was so wrong. She had sold her soul over to Wiggog Y’Wrath and instead of making the world a better place, she had turned her back against her morals and let insanity take her over. He had died for her to become a person she wasn’t. He had not died a hero. He had died with hatred in his heart and wrath on his mind. He had died hoping that things would work out his way, and he had been gifted the exact opposite.

When death had conquered him, he had been so angry. All he had wanted to do was protect her yet there he had been, impaled and dead. He had been in a realm filled with darkness that left a metallic taste in his mouth. That probably came from the fact when he’d landed in The Black all he had done was cough up the blood caught in his throat. He gave himself freedom by letting himself get caught elsewhere. But, there, kneeling in that dry spot The Black had kindly parted for him, he had met his mentor for the very first time. Nibblenephim. He Who Feasts In The Dark. He, who had feasted on what was left of the blood that ran through Max Jagerman’s veins. There, he had come face to face with God, and he had been promised the best of the best.

Control. He had told Nibblenephim that he wanted control. He was already the quarterback for the Nighthawks. Brad Callahan was also quarterback for the Hatchetfield Nighthawks, but Brad Callahan didn’t fucking matter. Fucking Brad Callahan. Fucking Brad Callahan wanting Stephanie Lauter. Did Brad not know Steph was off limits? She had been his friend at one point in time. Before Pete came into the picture, Max genuinely thought she might have cared about him in the way he cared for her but nope. He was wrong. Even so, why did he have to die? If Nibblenephim wanted a dead nighthawk so bad then Brad Callahan should’ve been the one to die but that was not how that story went. There they were, with Max in The Black while Brad happily got to live on…Or maybe Brad died in the riots. Max sure as fucking hell hoped Brad died too-

He had wanted control. He wanted his name to stick in the minds of the innocent. He wanted to be remembered even after high school, even after death. He wanted to invoke fear. Comfortably, the day he had died, he did not hesitate to kneel before Nibblenephim, explaining his reasoning about why he wanted power. He reiterated the passionate lie he came up with when he’d been in denial about his mom’s death. Reiterated how he had felt regarding his life up until that point. He had been so innocent, so out of control while discussing why that was the only thing he wanted. Control. All he wanted was control. Control over Hatchetfield, control over himself and control over his story. While so innocent, while so pure, a contract had been thrust into his hand. Nibblenephim asked for blood. Nibblenephim asked for a new food source, and Max, in return for control, had to provide the dead souls of the citizens of Hatchetfield. He had to turn the dead over to The Pig and that’d be it. He’d be mentored by a literal god to become a literal god.

Now no longer just a literal monster, Max Jagerman stood at the foot of the staircase, dizzy with something he couldn’t quite make out. Terror at the prospect of having to relive his own death? Absolutely not. He was Max Jagerman, he was no coward. He could fall and relive the terror of 2019 with ease. It’d definitely not provoke further consequences. Absolutely not. He’d just have to put on the best acting gig of his life.

Alright, nerds. Bring it on.

Grace had already informed him that Steph would message him asking for him to attend a fake party at The Waylon Place, so he had to play up his party-goer persona. Max Jagerman, a slut for being a borderline alcoholic who, when it came down to life or death, could be a pretty damn good actor. In this instance, though, Max was able to see that this was prepared to be a life and death situation. For him to live, he needed to die first, and he was already prepared.

So, with that unaware smirk on his face, Max called out to the empty house. “Steph! I brought the brews! Where are ya?!” He asked, carrying a pack of beers up the stairs with him. As he walked upwards, he heard the click of a button and then some royalty free Halloween music he knew that Grace had downloaded from some sketchy website. Just because he knew that, though, didn’t mean the nerds needed to know that. At least, not right now. He waited until he was in the attic before he said anything about it though. “Oh shit! Where is that creepy music coming from?! What kinda party is this anyway?!” He let the anticipation linger for just a moment. “…Steph? Brenda? Kyle?! Look, if you’re gonna surprise me, do it all fuckin’ ready! I literally just got outta work, I’d rather be at home but here the fuck I am!”

Then, from the shadows, Max watched as a spotlight shone directly on to one of the nerds. Max couldn’t quite tell which one it was, but based on their appearance, he figured it was either Shit Lips or Spankoffski. They were dressed in what seemed to be a costume pulled from the back of the Hamilton costume department, considering it was covered in cobwebs. The fake wig wasn’t really adding too much to it, but hey. At least they were trying.

“Max…” The “ghost” called out.

He let himself look up to the nerd, feigning fear. “Wh-“

“Maxwell Jagerman, you have disturbed the spirits of Waylon Hall! Now your soul shall be ours.”

Immediately, Max jumped, putting on the best acting performance he possibly could. “OH SHIT! IT’S A FOCKIN’ GHOST!”

From behind him, he could’ve sworn he heard Richie ask whether his accent had slipped into British or not. That was another thing. Whenever Max felt emotions to the highest level, his accent would slip into that of his mother’s native one. He didn’t know why it happened either, but it was happening now and there was nothing he could do to control it. Instead of fighting against it, he worked with it.

“I ALWAYS KNEW YOU FUCKERS WERE REAL! I’VE BEEN SCARED OF YOU MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE! EVER SINCE I WAS A LITTLE KID…” He looked down at the beers in hand, setting the crate on the floor. “And because of that…maybe it’s time to stop running.”

Keeping his eyes on the ghost’s face, he noticed how he very clearly became frightened at the prospect of Max doing anything other than cowering away. “Uh, what?”

Max balled his fists up, staring right at him. “Come on over here ghost, I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass! Come on, bitch! Let’s fockin’ go! Me and you, right here, right now! You want me?! Then come get me!”

Again, he heard Richie Lipschitz’s voice from behind him. By process of elimination, Max figured that was Peter Spankoffski standing atop of that bench. Oh, how badly he wanted to throw hands with Pete Spankoffski. It was all Pete’s fault that he had died, after all. Pete had stolen his Steph away from him, but not even Max could be mad at her for that anymore. He didn’t own her, and Pete was probably taking better care of her than he ever could anyway. Though it hurt to admit that to himself, though it hurt to let himself give in to that weakness, he knew he needed to move on. He had Grace now, after all, who, funnily enough, was who Richie was talking to.

“Grace, we’ve got a problem over here!”

“What’s going on?” The innocent voice of his girlfriend asked. She was somewhere in front of him, but he had no idea where. He couldn’t see her and he wasn’t going to reveal their plan for the sake of outing their relationship. “Is Max not buying it? Oh, gosh darn it!”

“No, he thinks that the ghost is real but he is just really fucking brave. He’s threatening to fight Pete!”

“Oh, gosh!” Max saw a shadow on the floor as Grace crawled behind the bench. He didn’t hear what she said next but it prompted Pete to speak up.

Clearing his throat, awkwardly waving his arms to create the illusion of transparency, Peter turned to face him. “I am Mathias Waylon! I am an ethereal being, you can’t fight me so…”

Max laughed to himself. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way! We’re gonna see about that! I’ll make you say, ‘boo-hoo,’ bitch!” He charged full speed at Pete.

“Oh, shit!” Pete cried out, shielding his face with his hands as he jumped down from the bench right as Max jumped up.

There, Max looked around. Grace had already warned him about the structurally unsafe floorboards on the top floor. He needed to locate the one that would take his life, and he could only hope Nibblenephim could pull a magic trick to ensure that he didn’t actually die. Allowing his voice to fall into a whisper as he covered his mouth, he began looking. “Grace? You’re behind me, right?”

“Right here.” She whispered back.

“Where’s the floorboard.”

He listened out, hearing her crawl behind the bench. Then, he heard her tap, so he looked in her direction. It wasn’t hard to miss in all honestly. Right on the edge of the steps was the thing that would kill Maxwell Jagerman. It appeared wet. Someone of Max’s physique could easily break that board, so that was what he was going to have to do. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Just play along, I’ll lead.”

With a laugh, he pumped a hand in the air, returning back to being Max instead of Grace’s boyfriend, Max. “OH YES! FUCK YEAH! I make the dead run in fear! I am the Jagerman! I am God! GO NIGHTHAWKS!”

“Why the fuck did he shout that for?!” The voice of Ruth Fleming asked from the other end of the room.

“I don’t fucking know, Ruth, but the ghost ran, so you’re up!” Richie replied.

“Oh, do I have to? I really don’t want my acting debut to be-“

“Go!”

After a gentle push, Max watched as Ruth Fleming, dressed as a skeleton, screamed her way into the room. Even though Max knew it was fake, he couldn’t prevent his heart rate from increasing. “Oh, fuck you, Grace,” he whispered softly. “You know that I am so fockin’ scared of skeli’ins.”

“Play it up, you-“ She tipped the bench, forcing him to climb off of it.

“Oh shit-“ He said as he stumbled on to the floor. Him falling off the bench which, in retrospect, wasn’t even that high up, had his heart pounding. That was pathetic. His heart rate was already beginning to pound, and that was only from the bench unexpectedly tipping on him. Luckily for him, he was experienced in hiding his fear and he almost instantly recovered, backtracking to follow his lines again. While he spoke, he wiped his sweat-coated palms on his jeans, trying to remember what part of the plan he was supposed to be engaging with. “Oh fuck! I didn’t think there’d be a skeli’in here! Oh my fucking god, I am so fockin’ scared of skeli’ins! Ergh! Maybe I should run!” He raced over to the staircase, looking down before he, once again, fell back on his words. “But run back where, Max? Back to dad? Back to Gregory Jagerman so he can call you a worthless, pathetic little cuck?! All because I can’t fight off one lousy skeli’in!” He laughed, very slowly turning on his heel to face Ruth. “Oh no. I can’t let that happen. It leaves me with no choice.” He pointed directly at her. “Hey, skeli’in!”

Ruth pointed to herself. Though her face was covered by a plastic skeleton mask, Max was imagining the most afraid look. It made him grin. Gave him a reason to keep pushing onwards with this stupid task.

“Oh yeah. I’m lookin’ at you, skeli’in. I’ve got a bone to pick with you. Come here, bitch!” He charged at her, but instead of fighting or flighting, she chose the secret third option – freeze. That gave him time to grab her by her collar, lifting her in the air with one hand, his right hand retracting.

From the other side of the attic, he heard Steph call out. “Grace, we’ve gotta abort the plan! It’s not working!”

“But it’s working for me! He’s so violent-“ Grace admitted as Ruth whimpered.

“If you won’t stop him then I fucking will!” Steph ran up behind Max, wrapping her arms behind him. “Let her go! Max, let her go!”

“Huh?” He dropped Ruth, turning, facing Steph. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you fucking bitch!”

Pete re-emerged then, the white wig now off, but still dressed in full costume. “Hey, don’t talk to her like that!”

“You lure me out here saying that this is a dumb fucking party just to, what, scare the shit out of me?! Steph, we can’t have a fucking party here! This place is hella haunted!”

“It’s not fucking real, stupid!” She shouted, shoving him hard. “That is my goddamn boyfriend, Peter Spankoffski! And that’s Ruth Fleming, who you just dropped to the floor. And Richie Lipschitz is here, and-this was all Grace’s idea!”

“Don’t spin this entirely back on me, Stephanie, you signed up for it! I didn’t know he’d react like he did!” Grace stood up, leaning her arms against the bench.

Turning to face her, Max ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, Grace! What are ya doin’ here-“

“It won’t work with me, Max. I’ve already rejected your advances enough. Take a hint.”

“Eh, worth a shot.” Max looked back to the nerds. Pete was standing by Steph’s side, and Richie was crouched on the floor beside Ruth, a hand on her back as he checked her over. “But you’re telling me that you fuckin’ nerds put this whole thing together? Just for me?”

“…yeah?” Steph answered hesitantly.

“Wow. This is…I thought you guys hated me but uh, thanks a lot. This was like, really great.”

The look on Peter Spankoffski’s face was priceless. “You’re not pissed?”

“…why would I be pissed?”

“You called me a bitch.” Steph reminded.

Ruth nodded. “Yeah, you called Steph a bitch!”

Max shook his head, looking between the four of them again. “Oh, no, I’m not pissed! Are you kidding?! No, no, no, this is like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, ya know!” He ran back over to the bench, climbing up on to the top layer. “When you came out as the ghost, Pete, and my heart was going doom, doom, doom, doom, doom! Oh! And the skeli’in! That was really special, Ruth.” He bowed to her before he stood directly upright again. “And, you know…maybe I had you guys wrong!” He walked to the other end of the bench, shrugging. “Ya know, I did think that you were all just a bunch of losers who did the nerdiest fucking things on the planet. And it’s not like you guys have anything better to do so for you to do this for me? It means a lot. It really does.”

He took another step, and for some reason, Pete felt the need to intervene. “Oh, Max, be careful, that isn’t structurally sound-“

“And I know this probably won’t mean anything to you guys because like, you’re nerds and there’ll never be an excuse for you to do this again, but you really do throw one hell of a party-OH FUCK-“

A crack, and then Max was slipping. He heard Steph scream out, and he heard her footsteps but it was no use. He was falling, and he was destined to die.

Somehow, he managed to grab a hold of the bench he was falling from, but even with him clinging on for dear life, he knew that there was very little chance for him to pull himself back up. He shouldn’t be backtracking on that plan. He shouldn’t be giving into cowardice yet there he was, second guessing everything. Even though he knew him falling was what it was going to take for him to get Phase 2 in action, ending back up in that position again despite knowing he could’ve prevented it was the most terrifying thing to happen to him. The feeling of his physical heart dropping while all he could do was cling there knowing he had to die…

Steph pushed past who Max supposed were her friends, running straight to him. She knelt on the bench, her own chest heavy as her breath continuously caught in her throat. “Max! Max, take my hand. We can get you back up.”

“Can we though, Steph?” He asked, looking up at her helplessly.

“If-If we band together, we can get you back up! Come on, guys, help me with this! Help me get him back up-!”

He cut her off, tired of trying to hear her heroinism. “You’re really gonna try pulling a 6’3 quarterback up from a broken hole in a staircase?!”

“I-I don’t know!” It was then he saw the tears in her eyes. “I just-I can’t-I don’t-“ She took a breath. “I don’t know what you were trying to do to me yesterday at school. I don’t know if I was imagining things but Max, Max I promise I didn’t mean for you to die.”

“Oh, so you do remember.” He tightened his grip, but the burning in his arms was beginning to become too much. He winced. “Fuck-“

By that point, the other nerds had joined them to watch Steph play hero. “I-I watched you fall once, I can’t watch you fall again. I can’t let myself be responsible for this and-and there’s a-Max, if you fall, you’re not surviving.”

“I already know that which is why I am trying to hold myself up!”

“Look, it’s best we try at least and-“

“Try what?!” He laughed, though he was almost certain the anxiety in his voice was prominent now. “Fuck, Steph! This ain’t the first time I’ve done this and it sucked the first time and it sucks now! Both times it was your fault!”

“I know that which is why I am trying to help you!” She shook her hand. “Max, please! Please, just try. For me. Please.”

Max looked into her eyes, and his heart all but broke. The tears. The tears in her eyes had started to fall and, knowing Steph, she hadn’t even realised yet. Even though he had been so utterly horrible to her since he had landed within that dimension, she remained so forgiving. She was trying to save him. She could be letting him die, but she wasn’t going to. She was holding her hand out to him, desperate to save him, and it pained him.

As his arms began to shake and he considered letting her try to pull him up, a snarling voice filled his mind.

You know what you need to do, Max. Don’t give in to her. Remember what she did to you the first time. She can’t correct her mistakes when things are already too late.

Max tried to keep his composure cool, but it was becoming harder. As he shook from fear, he felt a wetness in his eyes, prompting him to shut them. Max Jagerman didn’t cry. Not even on the verge of death.

I’ll catch you. Don’t forget that. You’ll be gone before they can reach the ground floor. Leave it in my hands. Let go.

Through grit teeth, Max tried pulling himself up again, his grasp becoming weak. “I don’t want to fucking fall!”

“Then give me your hand!” Steph told him. “Max, come on, it’s okay!”

Ignore her. She hates you. Let go.

“This is all your goddamn fault!” He shouted, though it was unclear as to whether it was directed at the god in his head or the girl in front of him.

“I know, and I’m trying to make things right. Max, please. Please!”

Finally, he opened his eyes again. They were distorted by those unwilling tears of his, but he couldn’t care less. “Sorry in advance, but I’m not dying today,” he said, his voice falling to a whisper. As the wood cracked beneath his grasp, he let one hand go, reaching out for Steph’s hand.

As it turned out, holding on to moulding wood with only one hand was not a good way to go about things.

The wood broke beneath him, and his fingertips barely even brushed Steph’s. He screamed out, and all of a sudden, he was falling in slow motion. He was barely registering anything. All he could register was the feeling of plummeting through water even though he was dropping through mid air. He didn’t have time to look down. He didn’t have time to see what he’d land on.

He didn’t have time to prepare himself for that high pitched pain in the centre of his chest, ripping open seams that had only just healed.

Call it luck or call it an essence of glory, but Max all but felt time stop. He was about to hit the ground, about to feel himself become skewered, but instead, time stopped. Around him, the landscape of The Waylon Place vanished, crumbling apart. In its place stood nothing. Blackness. Blackness, and the heavy metallic scent that could only be found within The Black and White.

In his ears, Max heard the sound of someone’s fingers clicking, cushioned by leather gloves, and Max, who had been suspended in mid air, fell the rest of the way. It was only about half of a metre  but even when he landed on the ground, he winced from the shock. With no time to process falling, he was covering his ears at the disgraced sound of a chair scraping as it was pulled out from the only table in The Black.

“Get up, you’re fine.”

Max took a breath, gripping at his shirt, tugging his collar away from his neck. “What the fuck?”

Across from him, already sitting at the table, was none other than Nibblenephim. “You’re not dead. You haven’t even hit the ground yet. So, get up, you’re fine.”

Following the order, Max lifted himself up from the floor, walking over to the table where he sat down on the chair. He continued tugging at his shirt, chest heavier than it had been before. “I’m sorry-“

“For what? I told you that I’d catch you before you hit the floor. I may be a Lord In Black, and I may be evil, but I never go back on a promise, especially not one like that.”

He exhaled, breath catching. “Wilbur told me you weren’t happy with me-“

“Oh. I’m not.”

“Then I’m sorry for being a shit set of eyes-“

“But it was not your fault. You couldn’t have known she’d be your new counsellor. Max, that wasn’t your fault and therefore, I cannot be angry at you for that.” Nibbly tilted her head, brushing her bright pink hair from it’s eyes. “You’re fine.”

“I don’t really think that I am.”

“…yes, you’d be correct in saying that, actually, for it appears you may be having a panic attack. As long as we keep talking, you’ll be fine. Now, here’s some water.” He reached downwards, pulling a glass of water from thin air. “Sip. Little sips. It’s cold, it’ll distract you.”

He didn’t argue. He took the glass, taking a sip as instructed.

“Good. Now, we need to discuss the second part of this plan. Considering, in this moment in time, you’re currently suspended in mid-air, speaking from watching it happen to you once, I’d rather not further traumatise my prophet. I’m here to speak an offer.”

“Yeah? What?”

“If it is alright with you, then I would, for this part and this part only, I’d like to take over your body.”

Max spat out the water in his mouth, choking. “Fucking what?!”

“Just while you get impaled and inevitably end up dead again! You will stay here, I will make a clone of your body and take over that one! I’ll do a final speech for you, I’ll make Steph feel guilty as shit and then we can work on the next part of the plan.”

“Right…yeah, that’d make sense…” He nodded, drinking more water. “Shit, this is good water.”

“It’s fresh.”

“And also cold. I needed that.”

“Hm.” Nibbly nodded. “So, what do you say?”

Max set the glass down. “And to confirm, I’m not actually dying, right? Like, it’s all an illusion?”

“You won’t actually die. And even if you did, nothing ever truly dies in The Waylon Place.” Nibbly cracked her knuckles. “Oh. And while I’m gone, Max, I left you a new outfit. I’d rather you didn’t wear blue when we do business.”

“…blue is Hatchetfield High’s colours, though. Blue and yellow.”

“Yeah, I know, which is annoying when your brothers are also blue and yellow and also happen to take the souls of two brothers in-anyway. Now let me remind you, Maxie, that this is what you wanted. If you wanted revenge then you’ve got to go in all the way. School spirit doesn’t matter, but team spirit does. So, while I’m gone, you go change, alright, son?” Nibbly stood up, using it’s white cane to walk round to the other side of the table.

“If that is what you want, then it’s what’ll happen.”

Once Nibbly had successfully located Max, they let their cane drop down into the blood. It’d return to her when he needed it next. Next, he ran his hands through Max’s hair, his tongue running over his teeth. “Don’t worry, Maxie. This’ll only hurt a little bit.” Nibblenephim jolted Max forward. He should’ve hit the table, should’ve had one hell of a headache that’d follow, but instead, Max found himself falling again.

Max, with Nibblenephim in his mind.

Like he had done on Black Friday, Max Jagerman became impaled directly through the chest. Though Nibblenephim had the inability to feel pain, he knew that wouldn’t be an appropriate response from someone with the appearance of Maxwell. So, pulling all their energy from Pokotho, they began to act.

While groaning, he kept his eyes on Stephanie Lauter, who was the first one down the stairs. “Max?!” She shouted at him. “Max oh my-oh my god-“ She clasped a hand over her mouth.

Summoning fake blood, Nibbly spat it out, letting it dribble down his chin. “Look what you made me do!”

“Max, I-I tried to grab you! I didn’t know-“

“SHUT UP STEPH!” He roared.

“Stay still! We’ll call an ambulance, it’s gonna be okay! Max, you’re gonna be okay!” She tried, despite what Nibbly had just said.

Pete joined her at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Steph, Grace said she’s already rung an ambulance. It’s okay, we’re gonna sort this-“

“Stephanie Lauter, you are just like these fucking losers!” He told her, spitting more blood. “This is all your fault! Don’t you fucking forget that! If you’d have grabbed my hand, I wouldn’t be splintered again!”

“I know, and I’m sorry, I tried-“

“You can never try hard enough! You’re a goddamn failure and I hate your fucking guts!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Apologies will never be enough! You’ve killed me twice, Stephanie, and now, it’s my turn to kill you.” Gripping on to the floor, Nibbly looked around to the rest of the nerds. “Mark my words! I will kill all of you! Nerdy prudes must pay, and nerdy prudes must DIE!”

Thunder clapped ahead as Max Jagerman’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. There, the connection between Nibblenephim and Max’s physical form ceased to exist, for Nibbly ended up sitting in his chair in The Black. There, he looked over to see Max. “It’s done.”

“…it’s done?”

“Yes.” Nibbly eyed Max up and down. “We’ll need to change those sneakers. They’re too flat bottomed. No prophet of mine will be a flat-bottomed bitch, but you look good.” He clapped. “Ugh, this is why I’m the best dressed out of me and my brothers because look at you!” He summoned a mirror, allowing Max to look at himself.

Max peered into the reflection of himself. “…holy shit. I get to kill people like this?”

“Obviously.”

“…can I make one request though?”

“If it is to satisfy your comfort, then fire away, young Jagerman.”

“…have we got any hair dye? I don’t think the blond necessarily matches.”

While Max lived on, only a select few were able to know that. Unfortunately for her, Stephanie Lauter was not one of those safely chosen to be in on the joke. In on the joke or the plan. She had watched as the life had drained from Max’s eyes as, once again, he had died via being impaled. Before she had burst out crying, she had thought to herself, ‘at least he didn’t get shot this time round either.’ Then, she’d been inconsolable.

Pete had gotten her out of there. Had gotten her out of there and at home, if home was his apartment. The rest of the evening consisted of her drifting in and out of tears. She couldn’t process that again. The first time was hard enough and she never even saw his dead body. Knowing she could’ve prevented it…it almost killed her. The rest of the evening, she lay in Pete’s arms, her phone off. Her dad wasn’t smart enough to know that, with the absurd amount of money she had, she’d bought herself an actual phone and the one he thought she used was actually her burner. Her phone was off and away. All that mattered was her and her boyfriend in that instant.

The weekend came and the weekend went. She didn’t once leave his room, save to use the bathroom. She and Pete hardly spoke. Steph felt awful. She knew seeing Max die was fucking with him too but she couldn’t talk about it. Neither of them could. What Steph did know, though, was that, according to what Richie had put on their group chat, directly after she and Pete had left, Grace pulled out an axe and single-handedly chopped up Max’s corpse to store under the floorboards. Apparently they left after the hatchet got pulled.

God, what the fuck was their life?

Even though she wished she could take more time away from living, she knew her dad would be on her back if she didn’t show up to school. The first Monday after Max Jagerman’s death, the first time the four of them had a chance to sit together, and they were deadly silent. Max hadn’t shown up to school. Obviously he hadn’t, because he was dead, and all they could do was sit there during their lunch period and stare at nothing. Anything than to talk about the inevitable.

They could’ve easily remained in that peaceful state, but unfortunately for them, one girl could not let them live.

For the first time that lunch period, their silence was interrupted by none other than their worst enemy. “…I have some news.”

“Can you fuck off, Grace?” Richie asked. “Whatever news it is, keep it to yourself. Because of you, we’re all mentally fucked.”

“And most of us were already mentally fucked before!” Ruth looked at Grace.

Pete let Steph lean on him. His arm wrapped around her, running his hand through her hair. “I’m siding with Ruth and Richie. Fuck off.”

“No. This is like…bad news.”

“And none of us can mentally handle it!”

“Okay.” Grace nodded, anxiously tapping her arm. “Uh, unrelated. Ruth, Richie…you were there when…you saw me put my WWJD bracelet back on, right?”

“No, because we were gone. We left you to do whatever business you needed to do, we weren’t there to watch you do that.” Ruth spat at her. “And because of you, you turned me off so bad I missed my six pm dick appointment! How dare you! I was looking forward to getting nailed, and all I could think about was you nailing the floorboards back down!”

Grace shamefully nodded as Richie glared at her. “That is a very specific question to ask, Grace Chasity. Why do you want to know whether we saw you with that bracelet?”

“Because I took it off before I grabbed the axe, and I wanted to know if it had sold or not!”

“…if what?” Pete asked, looking at her.

“If my bracelet was back on my wrist or not!”

“That wasn’t what you said. You said if it had sold or not.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!” Richie nodded, backing Pete up. “We’ve all just heard!”

“Oh my god, please stop fighting, my head hurts,” Steph muttered, leaning further into Pete.

There’ll be a reason for that, Stephanie-Wephanie.

Steph tensed, but Pete didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he had no time to ask if she was okay before Grace spoke up again.

“…so, my dad may or may not have sold The Waylon Place this weekend-“

“What?!” Pete, Ruth and Richie shouted in unison.

Richie pointed at her, already tense himself. “You were boasting to me and Ruth when we set everything up that it’d never sell and it went and did what?!”

“Oh, we are so dead. We’re so fuckin’ dead.” Pete quietly spoke, holding Steph closer, more protectively.

Grace cleared her throat. “…and the home inspectors found blood on the splintered floorboard and there’s been an entire investigation launched by the HFPD-“

There’s that reason.

Steph blinked, a ringing beginning to form in her ears. “Oh, shit, they know he’s dead.”

“…they’re took a blood sample and they’re gonna try and I’m like, 80% sure that they found clothing scraps too-“

She all but heaved as a menacing laughter filled her ears. “I don’t feel good-“

It’s too late to fight me, Stephanie. I’ve waited long enough. I need to speak to you face to face.

Pete looked down at her. “Shit, Steph!?”

“Oh, thanks a lot, Grace! You fucking triggered Steph!” Ruth looked at her.

“No, this isn’t Steph being triggered, Ruth, this is-“ Pete looked at her.

You belong to The Black, Stephanie. Let me speak to you.

“Pete, I don’t want to-“

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He said, holding her more protectively.

“In ordinary circumstances, I’d get that choice, but I don’t here and-“

LET ME SPEAK TO YOU.

Crying out in pain, Steph felt everything go fuzzy as her head lolled forward. She could still, very distantly, feel Pete’s arms wrapped around her. For the main part, though, all she could feel was the cold winds that swept through The Black.

There, standing in the shadows, was an impossibly tall man facing her way. He had his right hand placed on top of his left, had his pinkie and ring finger and his middle and index fingers pressed together creating the illusion of only having three fingers on each hand. His fingers did not remain still, for they wiggled. Notably, he was also wearing a golden ring on his left hand, which was fitting considering it matched the golden crown that sat atop of his dark green hair. He wore a green button up, a green tie and a green cardigan in the style of a letterman jacket, with golden glitter around a W, various other black splodges sewn on. There were white stripes on his left arm, and white stripes on his green shoes. To complete the look, he was wearing trousers made of some shiny green material.

What was it with these gods and wanting to sparkle?

“I did say I wanted to speak to you. I fail to see why you’re so surprised, Stephie.”

“…ergh,” she said, holding her head. “Oh, I feel sick.”

“You’ll adapt. Every friendy-wend of mine does. By the way, have you officially met Wilbur?”

She gently nodded. “He…he was there when I signed the deal and-“

“Ah! The deal! So you do wemember!” He tilted his head, looking at her with bright blue eyes. “For a second there, I was beginning to believe you selfishly were only thinking of yourself again! Miss Lautew, may I remind you that you are the property of I, Wiggog Y’Wrath?”

Somewhere in The Black, thunder clapped, and a bright green light flooded her vision. “Yes! Yes, I already know I’m yours!”

“And you’re going against the number one rule about being my pwophet. You’re pwetending that you’re not affiliated with me in any which way. That can’t happen, Stephie.”

“I wish I wasn’t affiliated with you!”

“But you signed the deal.” He bent down, smirking. “You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t-“

“But, as my prophet, and as the mayor’s daughter, I figured, while I still had the chance, before things go belly up, that I may as well provide you with…a warning of sorts.”

Steph looked up at him. “…why would you warn me? I hate you, I thought you equally hated me.”

“Ah. Being The Lord In Black means having other priorities elsewhere. I do not just focus on my set of eyes on earth. If I did that, I’d be fixating on Wilbur again, but he’s currently useless and bitter over your new counsellor.”

“…what about her?”

“That’s a story for another time, though I’m almost certain that Maxwell would be more than delighted to tell you all about her when you next see him.”

Steph’s breath hitched. “Don’t fuck with me like that. Max died.”

“Are you sure?”

“He got splintered through the chest! He was impaled! Again! Like he was on Black Friday! He-he died! And apparently Grace chopped up his body and-!”

“If I am correct in thinking, didn’t Maxwell appear to you all pale-faced and ghost like at school last week?”

“…I thought I was imagining things.”

“Didn’t Peter Spankoffski also see that?”

“He did, but-“

“And it may also be worth asking Wichard Lipschitz about what he thinks on the manner. He had a close run in too.”

“And Richie?!”

“You need to listen to me, Stephie.” Wiggly reached forward, letting his fingers comb through her hair. “Either follow my lead and watch yourself, or things are going to get a lot worse than what they already are. I can feel your wrath. I can feel your rage. Don’t fight against it. Give into it. Hurt the people who need to hurt. You are the most important woman in Hatchetfield. You were chosen by my brothers for a reason. You were chosen to save this island because you have the potential.”

“I am no hero.”

“That was also what your boyfriend said before he threw a grenade at the abstract form of my wittlest bwother.” Wiggly pulled himself away. “He’s the one to get you into this mess.”

“I know he is.”

“And had he not been so defiantly heroic then your father wouldn’t have put a bullet through Maxwell’s head. Maxwell wouldn’t have fallen. You wouldn’t have signed the deal, leading to him pushing you through the boundaries of The Black. He wouldn’t have been the reason that you felt it was necessary to go to The Waylon Place where Maxwell was, once again, impaled.”

Steph’s eyes filled with shock. “How do you know that-“

“Oh, please, you’re my eyes on earth and even if you weren’t my brother is known to be The Watcher With One Thousand Eyes…technically nine hundred and ninety nine now, it’s complicated. I see all. I know all. I am all.” He held his arms out to the side. “I’m The King In Black! I rule this place! I rule Hatchetfield, and no one has a fucking choice! And now, you don’t have a choice either.” He grinned. “You paid the price. Now it’s time to deal with it or fuck off.”

Steph gulped nervously. “…then what do I have to do? If-if you’re gonna make me sign another deal, I’m not doing it!”

“Oh, please, it wasn’t even me who made you sign that deal. That was my brothers. I was unaware I even had a new toy to pway with until you showed up. You are useful, as are my brothers at times. They know me quite well and they knew I’d have a lot of fun with you. Unfortunately, there’s no deal on the line this time. I need you to do something better.”

“Like what?”

Wiggly appeared directly behind Steph, looming over her tauntingly. “You need to give in to your rage.”

“I’m not an angry person.”

“No. You weren’t, but you will be now. Tell me, Stephie…are you happy with the decisions your boyfriend has made?”

“…not all of them.”

“Are you happy with the fact that he continues to push you to tell him about what occurred in the forest? Why you dealt with me to begin with?”

“…no.”

“And are you happy with the fact that he continues to victimise himself even though you did the only thing you knew how?”

“…not really.”

“Because he is no hero. He thought he defeated the world, he thought he defeated The Apotheosis, but he failed. You still died at the hands of Pokotho, as did he, as did the world. But you…you made a deal, and that saved everyone. It saved yourself, it saved Peter and it saved the world from mass mania. I believe, by definition, out of the two of you, that makes you the hero, does it not?”

“It…it does, I suppose.”

“Then I think you should let him know it.” He stood back up. “You should know this better than anyone, that there’s a first time for everything. I know you feel reluctance towards getting annoyed with him but where’s the fun in that!? Where’s the balance! I mean, he may be a Spankoffski but even Spankoffskis know you can’t solve everything with sex! Please refer back to Jenny Wilkinson and Theodore Spankoffski during The Apotheosis in 2018.”

“I-“

“It’s time for you to shine your light on the island, Stephie.” He smiled at her. “Make yourself bold, or else Maxwell will come for you. It’s time to thicken your skin or else you’ll be at the hands of the hatchet handle next. You know what you need to do, now do it.”

As Steph blinked, she nodded. He was right. She was done with playing niceties. Her life was so shitty, and shitty things kept happening. If Max was coming back like Wiggly was implying, then she needed to make sure he didn’t defeat her. She wouldn’t let herself become a ghost of the person she once was. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, and she shouldn’t.

There, kneeling in the inky black of the pocket between time, space and all dimensions, she laughed. It was time Hatchetfield learnt what a real hero looked like. It was time for a change.

Chapter Text

Peter could only watch in helplessness as Steph cried out in pain. He could only watch as his girlfriend cried out in pain then collapsed, her head hitting the table. Curse him and his slow reaction time. If he hadn’t already been on the verge of a panic attack, then he’d be on the edge of one by now for sure. Unsure of what he was meant to do, he kept his hands on her shoulders, not wanting to move her head in case she severely hurt it when it hit the table. This meant that he was able to feel her trembling underneath his grasp. He’d never felt her shake so much. Ever.

Trying to keep himself calm, he looked around the table. “She’s-she’s seizing, I think, I-“

“Like a seizure?!” Ruth asked, standing up. “Fuck! Does she need the nurse?!”

“I-I don’t know! She doesn’t have seizures and this is-this is all-fuck!” He looked at Grace. “Look what you did to her! You fucking hurt her!”

“I am not responsible for Stephanie Lauter’s medical issues!”

“What do I do?!” Pete asked weakly.

Ruth, picking at the skin on her thumb, nodded to herself, having made a silent decision with herself about what was going to happen. While Richie and Pete freaked out about Steph, one of them had to be the one making the final call. If it had to be her, then that was just how it was going to be. “I-I’m gonna go get the nurse. The nurse’ll know what to do, surely!”

“I don’t think the nurse is equipped to deal with situations like this, Ruth! Especially not a student having a random seizure in the middle of the cafeteria!” Richie told her, tugging at his collar. “Oh, fuck. Shit, what do we do?!”

“I don’t know, and I’m trying to figure it out!” Ruth ran a hand over her face, being mindful not to catch herself on her headgear. “Oh fuck, I-I don’t know-I really don’t know! If the nurse is gonna be fucking useless like she is every fucking time, then who the hell do we turn to? We can’t just leave Steph like that!” Ruth looked to the other side of the cafeteria. Then and there, Reese and PJ walked in, an angel in the form of Miss Holliday following close behind. She hit her head with the heel of her hand. “Oh my god, the counsellor! Why didn’t I fucking think of that?! Shit, of course she’d know what to do! She seems to know the answer to most things, let me just-“

Ruth began heading away from the table as Pete called out to her. “What are you doing?!”

“Getting help!” Ignoring the blatant stares from her peers, Ruth sprinted across the room, slowing down at Reese and PJ’s side. “Heyyy, uh, we’ve kinda got a situation and-“

“We know,” Reese said. “I saw the commotion. I saw Steph go down, so I grabbed Miss Holliday for you…I hope that’s okay? I was heading that way anyway and I know the nurse is really bad at her job so Miss Holliday was the first person I thought of. The first person I thought of after the nurse-”

“-thank God you did, because me, Pete and Richie were freaking out-are freaking out and we had no idea what we were supposed to do. We were gonna grab the nurse!”

PJ laughed anxiously. “If we know anything from the nurse, it’s that she’s a piece of shit who won’t do her job properly.”

“Is Steph okay?” Reese asked Ruth.

She shrugged. “We don’t know. She was fine one moment, then Grace was talking about how Max was missing and I think she said she had a headache or something and now she’s in like, a seizure? We don’t know, it’s never happened to her before so we’re all freaking out. Just a little bit.”

Miss Holliday made her voice known, then, as she strode closely behind the teenagers. “The two of you did the right thing. You’re right. The nurse would’ve been useless in this situation. This is for me to deal with and me only.” She reached the table, looking at Steph. “Alright, I’m gonna need some space which means you’re gonna need to let her go.”

Pete looked up to Miss Holliday, mesmerised. He nodded, letting go of his girlfriend, even if it was reluctantly. “Is-is she gonna be okay?”

“She will be, don’t you worry too hard.” Holliday said, looking over Steph. “You mind if I take your seat for just a second?” She asked him.

He said nothing, just stood so Holliday could take his seat.

Once at Steph’s level, she let that burning magical sensation in the bottom of her heart flood her chest. She could feel that magic descending through her arms all the way through to her fingertips. Once the numbing sensation had consumed her entire abdomen, she placed her hands on Steph’s shoulders, looking at her carefully. “Stephanie? Can you hear me?”

Steph blinked, eyes flickering like a faulty light. After a few seconds of uncertainty, she looked up, an essence of confusion to her. “…huh?”

“It’s alright, you’re alright now.”

“What…the fuck?”

“I know, and you’re probably confused, but for now, this isn’t exactly the safest place to talk. You’ve got a lotta eyes on you.”

“…nine hundred and ninety nine eyes-“

“A thousand,” Grace corrected.

“No. Nine hunded and ninety nine, it’s what he said-“

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Richie asked, looking at his friend carefully.

Pete shrugged. “I…I don’t know…”

Steph raised her head off the table, looking at Pete. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are-“

“I promise. I’m fine-“

Detecting a mild sense of bitterness, Holliday intervened. “You may think you’re fine, but Steph, I would like to take you through to my office. To monitor you for the rest of this lunch period. Would that be alright? And it’ll help to get some of those eyes off you.”

She sighed tiredly. “Fucking sure. As long as my dad don’t find out about this. He might kill me.”

“I’m almost certain that Mayor Lauter wouldn’t dare to when he finds out about what’s gone on today. You think you’re gonna be able to walk on your own, or would you like me to-“

Pete found it in himself to pipe up. To at least ask, even though it was terrifying him to even cosndier speaking up in such a vulnerable moment. “Would-would I be able to come with her? At-at least to your office?”

Holliday looked to Steph. “What do you say? Would you prefer it if…” She looked back up. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter.”

“Would you prefer it if Peter tagged along?”

Steph shut her eyes, tenderly touching her head. “…yeah, I guess.”

“Alright. Then come on, let’s get you out of here.”

With Peter’s help, Holliday was able to safely get Stephanie Lauter out of the cafeteria. Just because she was gone, though, did not mean that the scene rested. In fact, it did not come to a holt. It stirred. Steph’s sudden seizure was the second weird thing to happen within Hatchetfield that week. Max Jagerman hadn’t shown up to school, had stopped replying to all messages and had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. Considering the fact that the big game between the Nighthawks and the Clivesdale Chemists was only a couple of weeks away, they did not need to be messed around like that. Not even the Nighthawks wanted Brad Callahan to play for them. Max was their only chance of winning. Every time they played with Brad, they got creamed. Fuckin’ Chemists. Fucking Clivesdale.

In the now empty seat that Steph had been occupying, Reese sat down. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

Ruth took a seat again. “I don’t know, but if she isn’t, just blame Grace.”

Grace squealed out in shock. “What!? Why me?!”

“You know exactly why, Chastity.” Richie told her, pushing his chair closer to Ruth’s.

Ruth immediately turned to her boyfriend, gently punching his arm. “Don’t call her that! That puts us on the same level as Max Jagerman! That makes us bullies!”

“I don’t care! She just triggered Steph into a potential seizure! She deserves it! And anyway,” Richie looked back up to Grace, fury in his eyes. “Had you not come over and dropped the most stressful news on Steph like that out of nowhere, she wouldn’t be sick. She wouldn’t have needed to be pulled!”

“I didn’t know she’d react like that! Don’t blame me!”

“No, Grace, I think it’s fair that they blame you and I don’t even know what you did.” PJ said, sitting next to their girlfriend.

Grace turned to face them, raising an eyebrow. “…where’d you get that sweater?”

“I don’t know. I got it for my birthday. Why?”

“Because I really like that shade of purple.”

“God, you’re so fucking weird, Grace!” Richie told her.

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Richard!”

“Don’t call me by my full name for the sake of being pissed off!”

“You literally suck, Grace.” Ruth added. “And you’re already wearing a purple sweater vest! You don’t need another purple sweater-like item of clothing right now so do everyone a favour and shut the fuck up or fuck off!”

Grace huffed. “I thought you would appreciate the news but apparently you don’t! So don’t blame me when the universe gives you a big atomic wedgie!” Grace turned and left, heading in the direction of the exit, allowing the nerds to finally relax.

Ruth grabbed her lunchbox, angrily stabbing a piece of cucumber with her fork as Reese looked her way. “…that was cool, standing up to Grace like that.”

“Someone had to.” Ruth shook her head, taking a bite of the salad she’d brought for lunch. “Is that the only insult that Grace is able to use? Atomic wedgie?”

“Let the girl say fuck, Hell doesn’t exist.” PJ muttered before looking down at themself. “Oh, shoot, we probably shoulda asked if we can sit here and-“

“It’s okay. I don’t think Pete or Steph are coming back.” Richie tried to give them a reassuring smile, but he was almost certain it came out as a real life squiggle on his face. “But yeah, we want you here.”

“Thanks,” Reese smiled, setting her rucksack on the floor. “And uh, again. Thanks, Ruth. For including us and shit. It means a lot to us.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly! I get the fear of being a loser and I get the fear of having no friends! Anyway, it’s always nice to have a few more friends, right? A few new friends at that! At least, I like to think so.”

PJ nodded. “I agree. As much as I love hanging out with my girlfriend, there’s kinda a difference between being friends with someone and being friends with my girlfriend.”

Richie looked down at Ruth, confused. “…isn’t dating your friend like, a good thing?”

“I mean, it is for us. We already knew each other pretty well because we kinda only had each other and it helps, knowing each other so well. It means when Reese is upset, I tend to know how to help her pretty quick and it saves us arguments.” PJ pulled out their lunchbox from their floral-patterened rucksack. “Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know if there was a chance me and Ruth-“

“Richie’s my boyfriend. I can’t remember if I already said or not, but he’s my boyfriend.” Ruth said, swinging Richie’s arm around her. “And he’s also my best friend.”

Reese and PJ looked from Ruth to Richie, then back to Ruth, then to each other. They gave each other a sharp nod as PJ cracked their knuckles.

“Yeah. You two won’t have an issue. You’re gonna stay together forever.”

Richie blinked, surprised by that information. “…you’re serious?”

“PJ never gets it wrong. They’re like, absolutely insane when it comes down to figuring out who’s gonna get with who.” Reese gestured to her girlfriend. “They even got Max and Grace right, and I was like what the fuck?! And they were like, trust me, Reesey! They’ll get together! So if they say you’re gonna stay together forever then you will!”

Ruth shrugged, looking up at Richie. “Til death do us part?”

Richie rolled his eyes, finally allowing himself to smile. “Shut up.”

“You love me.”

“We’ve been together for two days. I’m not confirming anything. However, as my friend, yes, I love you.”

Ruth stared out to PJ and Reese. “I just got friendzoned by my own boyfriend. Can you believe it.”

“It’s the number one rule of being a het-appearing couple. You’ve gotta get friendzoned at least once during a relationship,” PJ told them. “And don’t worry. We both know you’re not heteros. We wouldn’t hang around with you if you were.”

“Cishet people scare me.” Reese admitted. “Like the footballers and the cheerleaders?”

“Didn’t Sara Zimmerman get caught fucking a girl at Callahan’s last party despite her being Callahan’s girlfriend at the time?” Richie asked them.

“Wait, Sara Zimmerman’s into girls too?” Reese asked as Ruth tensed.

“Can we stop talking about Sara Zimmerman, please?” She asked, her voice tense.

Richie looked down at her, eyes widening out of horror. “Oh my god, Ruth, I-I’m so sorry-“

“No, Richie, it’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“No, I did know and I still brought her name up!”

“Richie, it was for the sake of the conversation, you didn’t do it deliberately.” She took his hand. “It’s okay,” she allowed her voice to soften as she looked into his eyes.

He looked down at her, his default expression of half-horrified, half-sad returning. “…are you sure?”

“Positive.” She leaned up, kissing his cheek, allowing PJ to take over the conversation again.

“I swear not even Max Jagerman’s straight. He and Brad Callahan definitely have something going on between them.” They admitted.

Richie, flushing from the sudden kiss, tilted his head in their direction. “Brad Callahan and Max Jagerman?”

“Yep.”

“As in, the two quarterbacks of the Hatchetfield Nighthawks.”

“The very same two.”

“Are you sure?”

“Barebacking quarterbacks,” they sighed. “Every time the two of them fight, there is so much sexual tension. Like come on! Henry Hidgens is notorious for getting fucked on a football field! Why can’t they just drop their pants and get it out of their systems!?”

“Because Max is missing,” Ruth told Richie in a gentle whisper, knowing he’d be the only one to understand the full truth.

While Richie nodded in agreement, Reese spoke up, adding to the main body of the conversation. “They put the hate in hate sex.”

That got Richie gasping, his eyes lighting up. “That means we might have a chance, Ruth.” Richie said, looking down at his girlfriend.

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

Reese glanced over at them. “Wait, I’m confused, what?”

“Oh, me and Richie have an agreement that if we ever got the chance to have sex with Max Jagerman, we’d do it no question without considering it cheating.” Ruth explained. “Because I think he’s hot, and so does Richie.”

Silence fell on the table for a few seconds before PJ spoke up. “…to be honest, I’m a raging lesbian, and even I’d let him do things to me.”

“See! You get it!”

“But I’d never give up anything for Reese. She’s all I need.” PJ leant their head against Reese’s shoulder.

“It might just be the Hatchetfield High experience that you sexually think about Max Jagerman once in your life.”

“Maybe.” Reese shrugged. “…wasn’t Steph dating Max at one point?”

“Yeah, now she’s dating Pete which neither of us get.” Richie told her. “Like, she gave up Max for Pete. Like, I love the guy, but he’s Peter. Spankoffski. Max is Max Jagerman. Hot abs, hot ass, and he’s popular. She’s popular and she demoted herself to be one of us. Willingly!”

“…maybe he’s shit in bed?” Reese offered.

“If Max doesn’t show back up at school, I guess we’ll never find out.” PJ told her while Ruth and Richie let the conversation simmer out. It wasn’t like they could continue it anyway. Admitting to being a part of the accidental murder of Maxwell Jagerman wasn’t exactly ideal and at that point in time, they couldn’t risk anything else going wrong.

That conversation turned to Steph in the simple form of Reese and PJ, once again, asking if she was okay. Nobody could seem to give a real answer, though, which led to the delightful group of footballers at the popular kids’ table to also get involved.

There, on the other end of the room, as far away from the nerds as possible, were the most talked about group of people in the school. They were usually being led by Max Jagerman, but with him currently gone, it was Brad Callahan sitting in the middle, facing the entrance of the cafeteria to stare anyone who dared to look at him down. With two fingers, he gestured to the door. “Who’s the new chick? Was that the counsellor?” He asked the table, referencing the ginger who’d walked out with Steph and Pete moments before.

To his right, Stacey Zimmerman twirled her blonde hair around her finger. “Her name’s Miss Holliday. She spoke to Max last week. I saw her grab him in the hallway and they went in Miss Woods’ old office so…yeah, I think she’s the new counsellor.”

“Well no fucking shit, Stace. If she went in Miss Woods’ office then of course she’s the new counsellor,” Jason murmured.

“Do ya think that’s why Max was in such a shit mood for the second half of last week?” Brad asked her. “Cuz he saw someone as sexy as that guidance counsellor and realised that, cuz he’s dating Grace-“

“He’s dating Grace?” Jason Jepsen asked once more.

Brenda Campbell rolled her eyes, flattening out the navy skirt of her cheerleading uniform. “Oh my god, Jace. How behind are you? Yes, he’s dating Grace and none of us have been able to figure out why! Now the motherfucker’s gone and fucked off to somewhere we don’t know! He won’t answer his texts, his fucking BMW isn’t even at his house-”

“But like, look on the bright side, babe.” Kyle Clauger said, looking down at her. “With Max gone, he can’t stop us from getting together. I mean, you have to have noticed that there’s a different kind of vibe in the air right now. Something’s changed. With Max gone, it’s almost like the tensions gone too! Come on, I can’t be the only one to feel that, right?” He asked the table.

Jason nodded. “No, I’ve noticed it too. With Max gone it almost seems…friendlier. Like, take Reese and PJ for examples. Max always said you had the quiet nerds and the loud nerds, and the quiet nerds were the one he preferred and they were Reese and PJ. Now, with him gone, they’ve all of a sudden started hanging out with Ruth Flemwad!”

Brenda looked over to the table. “Wait, you’re telling me Flemwad managed to make friends on her own?”

“Wait, shit, actually! She fuckin’ called Reese and PJ over during the quiz with Mulberry last week! They’re deliberately drawing attention to themselves!” Kyle said, hitting his hand on the table.

“Are they, though?” Stacey asked, tightening the navy bow in her hair. “Like, can’t they just be friends?”

“If Max wouldn’t allow it, then I won’t allow it.” Callahan said simply as Kyle looked at him.

“At least Max was scary. You look like a knock off Troy Bolton.”

The table erupted with laughter as Callahan’s face dropped into something of horror. “How dare you, Kyle Clauger! I’m gonna fuckin-

“Fucking do what?” Kyle asked, looking at him. “Max being the leader of Hatchetfield High worked because he one, had the physical stance, two, was 6 foot fucking 3 and three, had muscles for miles! Like what the fuck do you think you’ve got compared to Max Jagerman! You’re not gonna be able to lead Hatchetfield High just because you’re the quarterback!” He looked at him, a smile growing on his face. “Oh my god. You think you can rule Hatchetfield High because Max is missing. Don’t you?”

Stuttering over his words, Callahan had no choice but to answer. “Well I’m the quarterback! And there needs to be order in Hatchetfield High for it to function, right?! Like, it’s just the rules of high school!”

Stacey tapped Callahan’s shoulder. “Do you think you can take up the role of the King of Hatchetfield High because you and Max had sex-“

The table laughed again as Callahan went red. “We didn’t fuck!”

“That’s not what Patricia Johnson says!”

“Oh, Stace, it’s PJ now. They use they/she pronouns.” Kyle corrected.

“Oh, shoot! I’m trying to adjust to that! Oh, god, I hope they didn’t hear me!”

“We’re on the other side of the cafeteria, Stacey. They wouldn’t have anyway, you dumb blonde-“

“Hey.” Brenda looked at Brad. “Firstly, Stacey’s not the dumb blonde. That’s Sara-“

“-Sara, the dumber blonde and the dumber twin sister,” Stacey added, checking her nails to make sure her nail polish wasn’t chipped.

“And you know why Max worked as the leader of the school?”

“Kyle’s already said-“

Brenda gave Callahan a tight-lipped smile. “It worked because Brenda didn’t also turn to tormenting his fellow upperclassmen.”

Kyle leaned in to Brenda’s side then. “Correction, babe, he punched me in the face whenever I dissed Grace Chasity.”

“Okay but Kyle, you deserved that though. Grace Chasity is no two-bagger…she’s actually kind of pretty.” Jason admitted.

Expecting laughs, he flinched, but none came. Instead, Kyle nodded. “Yeah. I mean…if she wasn’t such a raging Christian, I’d totally hit it, but you go to church too so I can see why you’d want her.”

“Only at Easter and at Christmas!”

“It’s still church, Jason!”

Brenda looked over again. “I mean, she does have a pretty face…a bit of makeup could fix those blemishes and who knows. She could even be popular.”

“Don’t fucking kid yourself, Bren.” Callahan told her. “Why the fuck would Chastity be popular?!”

“Why the fuck do you have such an issue with Grace Chasity? Max liked her, so we like her on principal.”

“Why are you speaking about Max like he’s dead?! He’s missing.”

“And it’s Hatchetfield, Callahan, don’t lie to yourself. If you’re expecting an invitation for a blowjob behind Pasqualli’s then think again.” Brenda pulled her hairbrush out of her bag, beginning to comb through her wig. “God, I hope my lace is glued down enough. If this shit starts lifting during practise tonight, I might never show my face in public again, good lord.”

“If it does start lifting, I think I’ve still got your backup glue in my locker.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah! You gave it to me a couple months back and-“

“So that’s where it went!” She smiled. “Thank god I didn’t lose it. Shit’s not cheap.”

“Either way, you’re gonna kill it at practise tonight,” Kyle told her. “Ya know, cheering does take as much skill as football does. And sometimes, when I’m out there on the field, I think that you girls are the main event and we’re your backing dancers.”

Both Stacey and Brenda giggled.

“God, Clauger, you’re so fucking gay.”

“Shut up, Callahan, we all know you and Max drunkenly made out at your party a few months back.” Kyle interrupted.

“We did not-“

“But seriously. Whether Max shows up or not…thank God he’s gone right now. He fucking forbade me from dating. Not just Brenda, dating anyone. And he fucked up my dad’s car! Seriously! Fuck that guy!”

“It’s what Callahan wants to do to him, so-“ Stacey said as Callahan shot her a glare.

“Stacey, I swear to God!”

“Swear to God, see if I care!” She pulled out a bottle of perfume from her bag, spritzing herself a couple of times. “And regardless about whether Max is fine or not, is Steph?”

“Oh shit yeah.” Brenda nodded. “She ain’t come back in, has she? Her or Spankoffski?”

“No…she was shaking pretty bad from what it sounded like the nerds were saying.” Jason said, turning his head over his shoulder so he could see the nerds’ table. “…Spankoffski also seems to like, really love her. Doesn’t he?”

“Uh huh. Seems so…” Stacey set the cap to her perfume back on. “Do you think that’s why Max is so pissed off? Because she went for someone who treated her like a girlfriend rather than a little sister.”

“Ew! Stace! Don’t phrase it like that! That’s basically romance incest!” Kyle told her.

Brenda looked up, stifling a laugh. “Romance incest? Babe, incest is a subgenre of romance.”

“Subgenre is what you say when you refer to porn, not incest.” Callahan interrupted.

“And incest is a subgenre of porn which you probably look up, Callahan, you mentally fucked freak-“

“I’m being honest!” Kyle said, intervening Brenda and Brad’s upcoming fight. “He protected her, sure, but not in a romantic way! Peter treats her like she’s his girlfriend, not his sister!”

“To be honest, though, if my surname was Spankoffski, I wouldn’t want anyone to be my sister.” Jason shrugged. “I think I’d avoid dating entirely. Imagine being burdened with a surname like that.”

“Even worse.” Kyle leaned across the table. “Imagine being asexual and having the surname Spankoffski.”

“It’s certainly not Ted, though, is it?” Brenda set her hairbrush down.

“What do ya mean?”

“Ted’s not asexual. He’s fucked so many girls I’m almost shocked he’s not a dad.”

“Callahan wouldn’t mind calling him daddy-“

“Would you stop that?!” He shouted, slamming his hand down on the table.

They ignored Callahan’s dramatic outburst. Brenda hummed softly, looking in the direction of her fellow cheerleader. “Stace, can I borrow your perfume?”

“Oh shit, yeah, if you’d like.” She slid it across the table to Brenda, who jumped back into conversation once again.

“So like, why were we being so horrible to the nerds anyway?”

Callahan scoffed. “PJ’s a fucking dork. Reese has a unibrow. Ruth Flemwad’s a theatre kid who pukes whenever she gets anxious who is also allergic to deodorant. Shitlips is, well, Shitlips, and also fucking reeks and do I even need to go into everything wrong about Pete Spankoffski?”

“Would Steph date someone who was gonna treat her shitty, though?” Brenda challenged.

“She dated Max!”

“And did you see how much he smiled when he was with her?! Like sure, he was still a dick but did you see how much he smiled whenever she was around? He only became worse when they broke up and when she started dating Pete! Like, Steph’s smart. She wouldn’t just go for anyone. Her dating Max honestly doesn’t mean anything!”

Stacey shook her head, her ponytail swishing. “I can’t imagine how she’s feeling. It’s really clear she cared about him and now that he’s missing…just like her mom…Next will be her dad and then who’s she gonna have?”

Kyle looked her way. “Stacey, don’t say that. Her dad’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m just saying it’s a pretty big coincidence that two of the people she cared most for are suddenly gone, right?”

“Doesn’t Steph think her mom died anyway?” Jason asked the table.

“Yeah, that’s the theory she goes with but no evidence came out from the investigation…why would Solomon Lauter brush that under the rug?” Kyle asked.

“Because he’s the mayor and he can do whatever he wants?”

“I think that’s bullshit.” Brenda said, sliding Stacey’s perfume back over to her. “And I think it’s bullshit that we’ve given these nerds so much shit too. They’ve done nothing to us so like…why should we keep bullying them?”

“Because we live under Max’s rules, Brenda!” Callahan reminded.

She shot him a glare. “And? Max isn’t here. What’s he gonna do? Kill me if he finds out that we’re against him now?” She stood up. “Anyway. Come on. We’ve got class and then-“ Brenda was cut off by an alert coming through on Stacey’s phone. She looked at it, gasping, a hand clasping over her mouth. “What? Don’t tell me you got cheated on again. Stace, I told you not to go for him and-“

“He’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?”

“Max.”

“What?” Colour drained ever so slightly from Brenda’s face. “How…how do you know?”

“Sara just sent me the fucking article.” A chill fell over the air as Stacey opened the link from the Hatchetfield Action News website. She let everyone read it before she turned her phone around. “The bitch gets a day off school because she doesn’t want to face Callahan and this happens…who labels an article like that ‘Another Dead Nighthawk To Add To The Count’ though like…that isn’t right…”

“He’s dead.” Callahan said out loud, just to taste the words. “Oh my good God…”

Hesitantly, Brenda asked Stacey another question. “Did it…did it say how he died?”

“…uh, apparently the HFPD have said in a statement that he fell through the top fucking floor of The Waylon Place-what the fuck?!”

“What the fuck was Max doing at The Waylon Place!? Was he fucking insane?!” Kyle asked them, stressfully running a hand through his hair. “He fell?!”

“From the top floor…”

“The top floor’s the attic-does he not know how unsafe the Witchwood is?! And did he not hear the legends about that building?!”

“Oh, confess it, Clauger. His dad’s a dick. Why would Max know anything about The Waylon Place. He wouldn’t care enough to warn Max about something as insignificant about The Waylon Place.” Callahan told him.

“He still attended public school! He’d definitely know about the rumours! I mean, fucking hell, we’ve talked about the rumours, Callahan! Openly, in front of him! He was bound to know!” Kyle looked down, trying to let the information process. “Doesn’t the rumour say that nothing ever really dies in The Waylon Place.”

“Oh, come on. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“No, but Max dying very much is!” He looked back to Stacey. “…he fell?”

Stacey nodded. “…fell on top of a splintered floorboard…bled to death.”

“Yikes.” Jason cringed. “So he falls and-didn’t he already have a weird phobia of heights and shit?”

Kyle nodded. “…fuck…the poor guy…do you think practise is still gonna be on?”

“I don’t think so.” Brenda stood up. “But I think it’s worth checking with Mr Houston anyway. Do you think he knows?”

“Do you think the school knows?” He asked, following her. “I don’t know but…check the group chat, we’ll keep you posted as to whether practise is on for tonight or not.”

“Alright. See ya later.”

Together, hand in hand, Brenda and Kyle walked through the hallways of Hatchetfield High to Tom Houston’s shop class. There was something else in the air. Something, most likely regarding the fact that they’d discovered the previous King of Hatchetfield High had died. Had been impaled at that. Neither of them read the full article. They skimmed over the article looking for two key points – when he died, and how he died.

Max Jagerman had died last Friday in The Old Waylon Place after falling three stories, causing for him to be impaled through the chest by a splintered floorboard.

It was no secret that Max Jagerman wasn’t a good person. Nobody in Hatchetfield High thought of him as good, but neither did Max. Max knew he was awful but also made no effort to change himself. Drunkenly, once, he had told Kyle this. “I’m not gonna get off this island, Clauger. I’m gonna stay here until I die, so what’s the point of me trying to change myself when this is already what my reputation is? I’m just awful, and it’s too late for me to change, so I won’t.”

Max might not have remembered that conversation, but Kyle sure did.

When Max wasn’t being a total dickhead, he was actually pretty funny. He knew when to say the right things and he knew what’d make each member of the Nighthawks laugh. He listened and he paid attention to others who might not get a chance to be heard. He never put himself first when it was just him and the Nighthawks. There were always other people before Max Jagerman. Sure, he was awful and irredeemable in every which way but…but there could’ve been some good there. Unfortunately, Max’s soul was resting in The Waylon Place so they’d never get a chance to see whether those theories would come true or not, but what would it hurt to at least think about them?

Brenda and Kyle reached Mr Houston’s classroom door, but they didn’t enter, all because of the fact that they were blocked by a note. Brenda ripped it off the door, looking at it.

“Bren, I don’t think ya shoulda ripped that off.”

She turned it round to face him. “One, it says ‘on lunch – at the gym” which is weird because why would Mr Houston already be at the gym on his lunch break and-“

“I dunno, maybe he’s already setting up for practise later?”

“And this isn’t Mr Houston’s handwriting! Mr Houston’s handwriting is legible. This…” she tapped the paper. “This looks an awful lot like…like…I don’t know, but not Mr Houston’s! It’s too messy.”

Kyle looked at it, immediately coming to a conclusion. “I think it might just be the grief taking hold of ya, babe.”

“But-“

“I think it’s worth us going down to the gym anyway. He could be there, ya never know.”

She sighed, putting the note back up on the door. “Yeah, sure. He probably is. It’d make sense, seeing as he’s the football coach and all.”

They turned, walking away as the fluttering of paper hitting the ground filled the empty hallway. “Bren, I think the note fell off-“

“Who fucking cares, there are bigger issues at hand here, Kyle.”

“Yeah, you’re right…to the gymnasium.” He said, trying to keep the mood uplifting but how could he salvage that? The fair answer was that he couldn’t. Max had died. There wasn’t anything funny about that situation, especially with it being so recent and all…sure, he didn’t have to feel bad that Max was gone because it meant he could watch the social hierarchy collapse before his very eyes, but he could still let himself feel bad. Murder was still shitty, and to go out like how Max did…he couldn’t even begin to imagine the scene.

Quietly, he and Brenda made their way to the gym, or, more specifically, the boy’s changing room. It was the only place Mr Houston would be and therefore the only place the two of them were gonna check. “Hang on a second, lemme go in. Let me see if he’s there.”

“Alright, babe. Shout if you need me!”

“I will!” He pushed open the door, heading inside to the main area. “Mr Houston? Me and Brenda saw the note on your door and uh, we kinda need to ask you a question regarding practise tonight...?” He headed up the steps, leading to the back of the changing room and where the office was. He noticed that the door was open a fraction. The rule was that if the office door was open, either a little or a lot, anyone could enter. If the door was closed, a knock was needed. Considering Kyle could see it was open, he strode over to it. “Uh, we don’t know if you saw the news but uh…we just wanna double check that practise is still going on tonight because, I mean, Stacey showed us an article and I don’t know, but…” He grabbed the door handle, opening the office door. “But we all just found out Max died last week and we wanna know if practise is still going ahead and-woah.”

There, grinning back at him, legs kicked up on the desk, was not Mr Houston, but the very member of the deceased he had been talking about. “What were you saying, Clauger?”

“Max?” He asked. “Oh my god, Max! We-we thought you were dead! We-hang on, BRENDA?!”

The door downstairs opened. “Kyle? You okay?”

“Max is in here!”

“What?!” Brenda ran into the room, up the stairs and joined Kyle at his side, peering into the office as well. “Holy shit, what the hell happened to you!?” She asked, waving a finger at him. “That outfit is definitely not apart of the dress code.”

Max stuck his bottom lip out. “I don’t know what ya mean, Campbell.”

“What do you mean what do I mean?! You had to get dressed this morning, you’d know what you’re wearing and-is that a hole in your chest?”

“Yeah, Max! Like, what the fuck have you done to your hair?”

Max stared at them blankly for a second before he clicked his fingers. “Oh! You’re referring to my new look! What do you think?”

“What about the hole in your chest?!”

“I think if you get caught like that you’ll get fucking murdered-“

He laughed softly, a slight distortion to it. “Wait, wait, repeat that. Lemme hear ya say it again, loud and clear.”

Kyle blinked. “…that the school will fucking murder you?”

Max’s laugh turned into a full blown cackle then. He sat himself up, slapping his hand down on dark pink jeans. “You think it’s the school that’ll murder me?! That’s bold!” He stood up, three inches taller than he’d originally been, now standing in at 6’6.

Brenda looked up at him, mouth agape. “Holy shit, what the fuck happened to you?”

Again, he held his hands out before he shoved them into the pockets of a blush coloured letterman jacket. “I died.”

“No you didn’t. Stop lying, Max.” Kyle said, gesturing to the back of his jacket. “…why’s the nighthawk on it’s back on your jacket, though?”

“It’s also dead. We’re both dead nighthawks. See how it’s eyes are crossed out? It’s because it died.” Max walked around to the back of the chair, leaning against the storage closet door. “What do ya think of the new look anyway?”

“…that doesn’t say Jagerman on your jacket. Why?”

“Kyle Clauger, all you do is ask questions.” He opened the door, reaching inside.

“Why does your jacket say Nibbly? Your name isn’t Nibbly-hey! You’re not supposed to be in there-!”

“I’m not supposed to be alive, and here I am! Please see this gaping hole in my chest and the huge bloodstain I’m occupying!”

“No, Max. He might not be being serious but I am. What happened to you.” Brenda asked. “You’re dressed entirely in-“

“-pink?” He finished. “I’m testing out a new look.”

It was true. He was dressed entirely in pink. Aside from the obvious, being the dark pink jeans and the blush coloured varsity jacket, the rest of him was, also, entirely in pink. The shirt he was wearing was of a simple baby pink colour with a bright red stain around his chest. Blood. Oh, God, it was blood. Actual human blood, not the cheap fake shit from the Halloween store. And his sleeves…The sleeves of his jacket were also pink, but looked more like white to the eye. It was only when they caught the light did they shine pink. Shine pink, and reveal the cobwebs that stuck to it. Considering Max’s skin was of a very pale grey now, it wasn’t surprised the pink seemed even brighter when he looked so…dead. Max was 6’6 now as opposed to his usual height of 6’3, helped by the 3 inch platform sneakers he was wearing. They were white with a pink platform, the same colour as his jacket, and had pink shaped heart buttons which acted as his laces. Of course, the main thing that they both noticed was how he was no longer blond.

“What do you think of the pink hair? Are we vibing with it or…?”

“It’s…bright pink.” Kyle stated bluntly.

“Yes, and?”

“It’s…it suits you?” Brenda shrugged. “I don’t know what answer you’re looking for from us, Max-“

“It wouldn’t matter to me anyway. The only answer I respect comes from my Lord.”

“Oh, come on. We know you’re with Grace, but you becoming a Christian freak is too far.”

“Who said anything about Christianity, Clauger?” Max asked, pulling himself back upwards, now leaning on something they couldn’t quite see. “Oh no…no, you see, I worship…a newfound kind of person. Someone who you’d never be able to fully comprehend but for me to continue living, I had to make him a promise. And considering I’m Nibblenephim’s favourite I-…what are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

“You’re holding hands.”

Brenda instantly dropped Kyle’s hand, turning her back to Max. “No we aren’t.”

“Oh, so I see you’ve taken up lying as a hobby! Oh, fantastic!” He gave them both a thin lipped smile. “Are you two dating?”

“Say nothing,” Brenda whispered to Kyle.

“I’m sorry, what was that, Brenda Campbell?”

“It was a no.”

“Was it? Because my Gracie says otherwise. Ya know, she sees everything right? And she reports it all back to me. And rumour has it that I went missing and the first thing you two did was fuck?”

“Max, you’re overthinking things-“

A very clean slashing sound followed, cutting Kyle off. Literally. Half a scream and a thud later, the lights in the room began to flicker. It instantly gave Brenda goosebumps. Rubbing her arm, trying to keep her cool, she tried to find the source of the thudding. When Brenda Campbell finally decided it was safe to turn back around to face Max, her eyes caught drift of Kyle. A very-much headless Kyle, who lay bleeding out on the floor of the boys’ changing room. She screamed, scurrying backwards away from the body as Max laughed, letting the door to the office slam behind him. The sound of metal against a gravelled texture followed suit, mixing with his demonic laugh.

“Aww, I’m sorry, Brenda. Are you missing someone already?”

Brenda ran directly into the bench, the same one where people would put their things while they changed into their gym gear. She didn’t have a choice. She hit the wood and her legs collapse, forcing her to sit down. Even while sat, she scrambled into the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest. Now shaking, her eyes followed Max all the way upwards, noticing how there was an insane pink swirl to his hazel irises. Pink and yellow. His grin was wide, and if Brenda wasn’t mistaken, there seemed to be blood dripping from his tongue. Blood dripping from his tongue, and blood dripping from the blade of the axe he was wielding-

“Why the fuck do you have an axe?!”

“Come on, Bren. Don’t play dumb.” He said, his eyes wide.

Pink eyes. Wide grin. Blood. It was all she could see.

“Hatchetfield Action News have just put out an article saying you’re dead, Max.” She told him, her voice trembling.

“Are they? That’s cute. I don’t think you can kill someone who’s already dead.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Nothing…! I’m one of a few people to let my eyes be opened by The Lords!” He stuck out his bottom lip again, letting sadness take him on. “Oh, Bren, I was so helpless! Ya shoulda seen it, ya shoulda been there! I’d fallen from such a great height and I thought it was the end of me…and then Nibblenephim chose me as his favourite. After I was pierced by that fountain, he took a chance on me and here I am!”

Thunder clapped, and Brenda, in a haste, grabbed her phone.

Max’s look became sharp. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“I fucking hate phones, Brenda.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, she began tapping out a message to Jason. She didn’t need to look at the screen to do so. That was one of the only perks of being a quick typer, she supposed.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“It was merely an illusion.”

“You’re bleeding, Max!”

“Come on. I actually like you. You’re the favourite of my ex girlfriends, I’d hate to do this to you.”

“Max, you are supposed to be dead!”

“And I am dead! Because I did die! Just not how you think!”

She sobbed as she looked to the floor. Kyle’s head had rolled off somewhere, and all Brenda could see was the pool of blood surrounding her boyfriend’s body. She shook her head. “Max, please-“

"Brenda, I'm serious. Please don't make me put the slash in slasher." 

"I'm begging you! Fucking stop this! It's not funny anymore!"

“Plead all you want, but I know your plans! You were trying to alter the life of Hatchetfield High as we know it! I put in those rules, and they’re the rules you follow, bitch!”

“The cops are saying you’re dead!”

With a bitter laugh, he finally dragged the thing he’d been leaning on in plain sight. An axe. A humongous, blood-coated axe. “Oh, Brenda. I’m not dead, at least not in the way you want…but you’re about to be. I did warn ya, but you pissed me off, and now you have to face the wrath of Lumber-Max, The Max Man in his course of expertise.” Axe swung over his shoulder, he got close to her face. “Hey, how strong do you think that lace glue is?”

Before she could answer, he’d raised the axe. Swiftly, he carved a single line against her hairline, roaring with laughter as he cut a slit in her skin. She cried out in pain, dropping her phone. He tugged on her ponytail, ripping open the top of her head to reveal her exposed brain. Her eyes focused on him. He laughed again. The axe rose above his head once more, then came slicing straight down. The blade caught the bone between the two halves of Brenda’s smartest organ, but it caught it at a diagonal. The axe came down, slicing her brain in two, directly down the middle, marking the end of Brenda Campbell. Blood spurted everywhere. On the walls, on her, on Max, and all he did was laugh.

In a fit of insanity, he pulled back the axe, licking most of the evidence off of the blade as, re-emerging from the office, was Grace Chasity, clipping a purple hairclip back into place. “Did you have to make such a mess? We have Jason to conquer yet, and this is going to be a pain to clean!”

“Dontcha worry, I ain’t forgotten about Jason. And don’t worry about the blood. Nibbly’ll take care of it.” He lifted up Brenda’s phone from the phone, smiling at the screen. “Seems she’s already made things easier for me. She sent him a message!”

“Ergh. He’s such a brute.”

“But you’re into that, Gracie.”

She eyed him up and down. “Only when it’s you…it’s a shame Ruth and Richie didn’t notice where I was going when I left. I fear they were too caught up with Reese and PJ. They were probably too excited over the prospect of having other friends. I would love for them to see this, to see what became of the victim they caused.” She laughed, walking over to him. “…but that axe, Maxwell…”

“I told ya. You’re into it.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“And you’re a dirty girl.”

She draped her arms over his shoulders, hoisting herself up until her legs were wrapped around his waist. There, pushed against a wall, inches away from Brenda’s dead body, did Max pull her into a kiss. Blood smeared over both his lips and her’s, but neither seemed to care. One of her hands tangled into his neon pink hair while his stayed busy holding her up. He let the axe rest against the wall for a second as he tugged on her shirt, untucking it from her jeans.

Pulling away from the kiss, he whispered in her ear, “I need you so fucking bad.”

Grace whined softly, deepening the kiss, but pulled away just a second after. “You can wait until you’ve murdered those dirty pervs on the football team.”

“I’ve got one hell of a plan for Callahan.”

“You’re so romantic, daddy…”

“I’d kill anyone for ya, Gracie. I hope you know that.”

“I hope you know that I am aware of that, more than anyone else, and if you don’t touch me-“

Max didn’t need another reminder. He all but tore Grace’s purple sweater vest from off her body, tossing it to a non-blood coated area of the gym. “It’s too pretty to ruin,” he said. “You’re too pretty to ruin.”

Grace pulled back, wiping some of the blood off his face, smearing it. “I’d better not be. Wreck me, Max. Right here, right now, while we’ve still got time.”

“I’d never wreck ya. Not in a billion years.”

“But if it’s what I wanted?”

“Then I’d have to abide.”

“Then do it, whore.”

Max moaned, fully moaned as he unbuttoned Grace’s shirt. Pulling her in close, he grinded upwards as she pushed into him. Her hand went straight to her chest, her thumb running over the light pink thread that sat on his chest.

“Nibbly.”

“With a little heart on the tail and a big swoop on the N. Ya think it’s pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty.” She said, pulling him back in for a kiss. “Oh, Maxie, I need you. I need you hard.”

“And I will ruin you. I’ll split you in two.”

Grace let go of Max for a second, only clinging on by her legs, pulling his jacket off of him. “Get those goddamn clothes off. We’ve got another fifteen minutes, ten if Jason gets here now.”

Max tore his shirt off, letting it drop down in Kyle Clauger’s blood. “Hey babe? How do ya feel about playing football?”

“I’d rather die.”

“And what if it was to segue into killing Jason Jepsen? How’d you think about that?”

“…what are ya thinking?”

That was how, just a few moments later, with the lights still flickering, did Jason Jepsen walk into the boys’ changing room. “Hey, Brenda?!” He shouted. “I got your message and literally ran here! What’s up?”

There, Grace Chasity leaned against the top of the staircase, hands behind her back, all but covered in blood. “Oh, sorry Jason. I was trying something out in regards for Ruth. She wants to do this whole group thing for Halloween.”

Immediately, Jason’s tone slipped. “O-Oh! Hi, Grace! I didn’t realise you’d be here!”

“Of course you wouldn’t! If Brad Callahan found out I was speaking with Brenda Campbell then I’d be dead!” She giggled. “Oh, Jason! You know, I’m glad it’s you who’s here, though. You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you?”

“…really?”

She nodded. “Oh, come on in a little further, Jace! Don’t be scared!”

“…okay.” He stepped in, and the door shut, even if there was a little more of a slam to it than usual. “What…what do ya wanna do, Grace?”

“If you’ll take me, I’ll have you right here, Jason.”

“O-Oh! Really?”

“Absolutely! But uh, I need to ask you…how’s your catch game?”

Jason’s reflexes took over when he saw something round flying his way. When he caught it, however, all he felt was soft, not hard feeling like a football. He looked down, silently gasping out when he saw none other than Kyle Clauger’s face looking back at him. His face was permanently open in a gasp and, there seemed to be a very realistic bone sticking out of his neck. It seemed awfully realistic…and then he remembered the very key point Grace had said when he walked in. He laughed, pointing at her. “Oh! This is a prop! Good joke, Grace! Good joke-“

Then, all he felt was a very sharp pain directly in the middle of his upper spine. He felt a gust of wind blow over the right side of his face and a whisper in the voice of a former friend crawl down his ear.

“Who said she was joking?”

Jason gulped. “M-Max?”

“Don’t fight it, Jason.” Max jammed the blade of his axe further into Jason’s spine. “I’m just doing my job, and that job is fighting jocks…goodnight, Jason. Rest in peace, bitch.” He pulled the axe back, spun Jason around to face him, and with that grin on his face, swung the axe again. In a single motion, his right arm fell off. Then his left. Then his legs, and then his head.

While Max set his axe back up against the wall, Grace walked down. “Good job, my Max man.” She ran her hand up his chest, smiling innocently. “Now. How about we get these piece to the side and, with the twelve minutes spare, you wreck me?”

With a laugh, kicking Jason Jepsen’s head off to the side, letting it roll under a bench, he turned back to Grace. “Oh, darling. That sounds like heaven.”   

Chapter Text

From right around the corner from where the dead bodies of Kyle Clauger, Brenda Campbell and Jason Jepsen lay, the sound of running water followed. The sound of running water behind a closed navy curtain in the showers of the boys’ changing room. On the bench at the back of the stall, away from the water’s grasp, lay the following – a very tall axe with the blade facing the wall, two towels and the blood-stained clothes of Grace Chasity and Max Jagerman. He had promised her that he’d make the best out of ten minutes, so that was what he was doing. He was making a point, and that point would be to sensually rail her against the wall of the shower cubicle they were standing in. Maybe it was utterly disgusting, to initiate in public intercourse in a public bathroom which just so happened to lie within their school. As proven ten minutes ago, though, they’d done dirtier things.

Like all good things had to, their hook up came to an end. Literally. Max was hasty to flip the shower off, wrapping his girlfriend up in a towel. He’d taken it from the office, where he’d sat, waiting for Brenda and Kyle to inevitably find him. His plan had been written without room for flaws. Of course, it went his way. Everything went his way. He was The Jagerman. He was God. Things had to go his way or else pray Hell would reign upon the students of Hatchetfield High. Originally, he’d considered using the towels to mop up some of the blood that’d spill from the students he’d once called friends, but he figured it’d be a funnier sight to let the unfortunate person to see the crime scene to really take in the full effect. To let the blood drain from their face while the blood of the deceased drenched them.

Death, as Max had recently discovered, was rather poetic, actually. Sure, having to fall from such a great height again had been the scariest thing he’d ever had to do. It hadn’t been something he’d been wanting to relive ever but there he’d been, doing it all over again. He’d hated it. However, he wasn’t dumb. He might not be the smartest but by no means did that mean he was dumb. He knew that for the next phase of the plan to move, he’d needed to die. He’d needed to fall. Had he chosen to go against Nibblenephim’s word, then he wouldn’t have gained the sick new look he took on anyway! His entire pink attire, which he was currently dressing himself back into, with his neon pink hair. Like with anything The Black and White regarding, Max would not disclose where he got the hair dye from. Nobody would like the real answer, anyway. They’d find it gruesome. They’d find it gross. What the fuck did it matter, though? They’d all be dead by sundown in about two week’s time anyway.

Slipping back into his platforms which he had carefully placed outside of the shower curtain, Max looked up to Grace. “How long we got, babe?”

Grace, now fully changed in a spare change of clothes that Bliklotep had very kindly given to her about an hour ago, checked her watch. “Another four minutes.”

“Very nice, very nice.” He cracked his knuckles, running his eyes up and down her. “That’s a new look.”

Immediately, Grace turned around, looking at him. “What? Don’t you like it?”

“Oh, angel, I’d like whatever you put on but that…my darling, that’s amazing…where’d ya get those clothes from anyway?”

“While you were waiting for Kyle and Brenda, Blinky said I might want these. It was gonna get messy, and he was providing me with a better option.”

“That he was. Gimme a twirl.”

Reluctantly, Grace put her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, spinning around in a circle. Max whistled, drinking in the sight of her. She was wearing a pastel purple crewneck with what a button-up shirt underneath. She’d half tucked in the crewneck, leaving it hanging out at the back and honestly, it suited her rather well. She was wearing black converse to complete the look, only shadows of her innocence shining through.

Max stood up, tucking her hair behind her ears. “God, you’re gorgeous. Ya know that.”

“I’ve been told.” She drew back the curtain, stepping out. “Now, Maxie. You’ve got a job to do.”

He whined, tugging at the collar of his blood-soaked shirt. “But…but babe…why can’t I just go round killing these pervs!”

“Because!” She turned to look up at him. “It’s my job too. We work as a team, we do not work alone. You can’t take all the fun, after all.”

“And what if I did it anyway? I’m hosting a cannibalistic god in my mind.”

“And I can see all thanks to the powers Lord Bliklotep has gifted me!” She took his hand. “You know what to do. You know to issue the warning so do it, brute.”

He laughed, restraining himself from cackling. He walked over to Kyle, the very first body he’d claimed the life of and crouched down by him. Dipping his hand in the pool of blood, he smeared it on the nearby wall, trying to make a word distinguishable. “I do warn ya, my handwriting’s fucking awful, so you probably wanna do it.”

“They’ll recognise my handwriting.”

“And ya think they won’t recognise mine?”

“You’re dead. They’ll believe they’re going insane if they dare question Max Jagerman being behind all of this.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Letting the blood dribble downwards, he moved on to Brenda. Using her blood, he smeared another word on the wall behind her. “Who do you think’s gonna find ‘em anyway?”

Grace was silent for a few seconds, her eyes flickering between their usual brown colour to a bright yellow. Max recognised this. She’d mastered speaking with Bliklotep faster than he had. Honestly? It was admirable. She was admirable. Once he noticed her eyes resume back to normal, no longer clouded over by a golden haze, she turned back to face him. “Bradley Callahan.”

Max wheezed out a laugh then, painting another letter. “Ah well, I’d say I’d pity the unfortunate bastard to find these beautiful corpses but if it’s Callahan then fuck him. As we all know, the worst things start with C. Callahan, Chlamydia, Clivesdale.”

She shuddered, stepping away from him. “Not Clivesdale.”

“Fuck Clivesdale.” He ran down the stairs to where Jason was, following the same routine he’d taken up with Kyle and Brenda. “Oh, Gracie, babe?”

“Yes, Max?”

“Are you Clivesdale?”

She recoiled, covering herself up. “How could you even ask such a thing?!”

He held a bloody finger up to her, smirking. “Are you Clivesdale, cuz I wanna fuck you.”

Scoffing, she shook her head. “Brute.”

“You love it.”

“The only man I love is Jesus.”

“Sure, angel. Sure. Anyway. Go make yourself useful and plant the numbers by their bodies. When Callahan walks in, he’ll think Jepsen got murdered first which is…fuckin’ unfortunate, we really shoulda waited, shouldn’t we?”

“I did tell you.”

“Ah well. What’s done is done.” Max stood up, clapping his hands together as if he was dusting them off. In doing so, he only spread the blood of his victims around more. “How does this look? What do you think about it?”

Grace stood, heading back over to the stairs, admiring his work. “…your handwriting truly is atrocious.”

He walked past her, being careful not to get any more blood on her. “Oh, I know, and I did warn ya.” He licked his fingers clean. Vibrations ran up his spin, courtesy of Nibblenephim’s new high. With the shake new and present, he walked back through to the showers where he wiped down the blade of his axe with one of the towels. Swinging it over his shoulder, he walked out with the axe, dropping the towel in the laundry basket in the office. “Now, Gracie. How about we get the fuck outta here before we get our asses busted?”

She scoured the scene a final time. “There aren’t any cameras in here, are there?”

“That’s illegal.”

“And so is murder. That didn’t stop you doing it.”

Max pointed at her, laughing. “You’re funny!”

“And I wasn’t joking.”

His smile became a tad more bitter. “Even if there were cameras, Bliklotep would sort that issue out for us. He hates it, remember? And he’s The Watcher with One Thousand Eyes.”

“Nine hundred and ninety nine. I’m the thousandth.”

“Of course you are. You’re the most special, babe.” He kissed her forehead. “Now. How about we get you to class?”

“That’s a good idea. But don’t even think about trekking blood through the hallways.”

“Oh, please. They’ll try and match the shoeprints up to ones that don’t exist. Besides, who’s gonna suspect I did all of this?” He asked, shutting the door to the office, opening the one on the right that led out to the back corridor. “Who’s gonna suspect that I, Max Jagerman, who’s dead, is a platform wearing princess? Now, whether the school actually knows I’m dead or not is a different matter but-“

“They know. Action News released an article earlier in the hour.”

“They did?” He looked down at her, sweeping a hand through his hair, letting the blood tangle in his once-blond curls. “What did they say?”

Grace went to touch grab her phone from her back pocket but flinched. “Shoot, electric spark.”

“That’ll be Blinky. He hates phones.”

“He makes it known enough, I think I know Blinky hates phones by now.” She folded her arms, fidgeting with the yellow bracelet on her left wrist. “They basically said that where you died, and how you died and who died. So you.”

“…nothing else?”

“Nope.”

“Not even the charming quarterback of the Nighthawks died a fateful but gruesome death?”

“Nope…also, my dad sold The Waylon Place, so that could be an issue-“

“Oh, Grace, for fuck’s sake!” Max looked down at her, his accent slipping out. “I thought you said, when we formatted the plan, that the fucking place would be abandoned forever?!”

“It was supposed to be! How did I know that my dad was dealing it off to some random freak!”

“Gracie…who’d he sell it off to?”

“I don’t fucking know, I’m already stressed and-“

In the middle of an empty hallway, Max stopped, looking down at Grace, who had her hands clasped over her mouth. “Darling, dare you repeat those unholy words of yours?”

She shook her head. “N-No-“

“Because if I am not mistaken, you said fuck.”

She nodded then. “I did-“

Max tipped his head back in a cackle. “Oh, you’re a real sinner now!”

“I’m going to Hell!”

“But babe! Hell doesn’t exist but The Black does! I told you this.” He went to take her hand, then realising that wasn’t the wisest idea. Unlike him, she wasn’t dead and couldn’t vanish at will. “It’s not like it entirely matters. Nibblenephim cloned my body and, if I’m correct in thinking, it’ll be gone beneath the floorboards by now anyway. They won’t be able to find me.”

“Of course. Yes. This is going to be fine.”

“Because it will be.” He looked at her. “…how long have you wanted to say fuck for?”

“Never.”

“But it felt good, didn’t it?”

She hesitated, blushing. “…maybe just a little.”

“Then, maybe, the next time we get down and dirty, you shouldn’t hold yourself back.” He got closer to her. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you holding back those pretty little words of yours. I don’t want you to do that ever again, do you understand?”

Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him. “You don’t control me, and I don’t abide by your rules.”

He grinned. “That’s my girl. Now how about we get you to class. Who have you got now?”

“…Adams-“

“Ah, Adams.” He smiled. “Well, we don’t want you to be late, do you? You know how Adams can get. He hates…prudes.”

Grace looked up at him. “I am no prude, Max.”

“And don’t you just prove it every day.” He grinned. “Let’s get you away from the scene of the crime before you get your ass busted. After all, I don’t think Bliklotep could save you from that.”

“Yes, sure and-“ She cut herself off, grabbing his wrist, the one part of him not covered in blood. “Callahan just walked in the locker room. Go.”

“Go?”

“They’ll know you’ve done something bad. Go, Max.”

“Will you be okay?”

She shrugged. “I think the question is to ask whether Grace Chasity would dare be spotted in the boys’ locker room? How would I be responsible for the three dead bodies?”

He laughed softly. “That’s my girl.” He gently pressed a kiss to her hair. “Have a fun day at school, I’ll see ya later.”

As he walked away, slowly fading into nothing, she followed him by his side, gently shaking her head. “I don’t doubt that for a second, Max.”

The day had been going perfectly normally, save for the news that Max Jagerman had died. Had been murdered, so the HFPD suspected. It was a shame, a genuine shame, that a young boy like Max had lost his life so early when there was still so much that could’ve been done to save him. She knew that the school would be in a state of shock as the news quickly spread.  What to save him from was a deeper question that should’ve really been asked. She’d had her intentions of trying to save him from his father, maybe had the intention of trying to save him before it was too late altogether. Before his reputation was firmly implemented in the fabric of the world he walked on. That was how she hoped to save him. Now, he was dead, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing at all.

Except…she wasn’t any ordinary school counsellor.

She managed to get a look at the crime scene before the HFPD sectioned it off. Three words were written on the wall that had her gut turning. She didn’t get sick, and she couldn’t die, but in that moment, she felt like she was already dead, merely floating in her ghostly form. Never before had she ran so fast to race back to her office. She closed the door, logging back on to the article Hatchetfield Action News had put out. She needed to confirm her thoughts. She needed to confirm the facts.

Maxwell Jagerman, aged 17, had died in The Old Waylon Place.

Those words on the wall. The very same Mathias and Agatha placed upon the-

Max died in The Waylon Place.

Those words.

He was dead.

He was in talks with Nibblenephim.

He was dead, he was in talks with Nibblenephim, and Nibblenephim knew that spell. After all, why wouldn’t he? Nibblenephim, of all deities, would know what the words entailed. He would know the consequences. He would know that nerdy prudes must pay and therefore, nerdy prudes must die.

By the order in which the words were written on the walls, she could only assume the order as to how they were murdered. Nerdy had been written behind Kyle which, by no means, described the young footballer. Prudes had been written beside Brenda. As the counsellor and a Hatchetfield citizen, whether she wanted to or not, she heard rumours. The rumours said that Brenda Campbell was anything but a prude. Must was written by Jason Jepsen, on the wall behind where the bucket all his severed limbs sat. Jepsen had always been an uncertain kid. He never knew what was needed and what wasn’t. There was only one word that had yet to be painted, one word from another unsuspecting victim.

Die.

God knows what’d happen when the killer found the final victim. A blood-inspired rampage, she suspected. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it happen. It had been a massacre and with no doubt stunning her, it’d be a massacre again.

Max Jagerman had died in The Waylon Place. The Waylon Place had the ritual placed over it for the Waylons to return. What died in Waylon Hall never really disappeared. The Waylons were ghosts, as every sensible person knew. If the Waylons uttered the ritual and returned, and if Max had known about it by some way or another then they were in a lot of trouble. She knew better than anyone that troubled teenagers were more prone to lashing out than those in stable homes. Not only did she know it, but so did her favourite colleague, Douglas Keane.

His name flashed in her mind and, in an instant, she was ringing his number. She pressed the corded phone to her ear while she pulled up Max’s record. She needed to find any evidence she could to back up her claims. Soon enough, the ringing stopped and the voice she loved to hear so much answered.

“Heya, darlin’.”

“Hiya, Duke.” Despite the situation and despite how she was feeling, she couldn’t help a smile forming.

“Everything okay?”

“Not particularly…I kinda need your help, in a way?”

“Is this like, a social worker case or a Holliday case?”

“A Holliday case.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

On the other end, she could faintly hear the rustling of a coat and the jangle of his car keys. “I only ask you because you’re the only one to believe me.”

“Trust me, darlin’. I’ve heard a lot weirder…we’ll go with that. Weird and wonderful. Uh, can you give me fifteen minutes? But I’ll be there.”

“I’ll time ya.”

“Damn it, she’s serious.”

He laughed, and she could feel herself drowning. “Just ask for Holliday. They’ll let ya in.”

“I know. I’ve been there enough times when Woods was counsellor. I know what I’m doing.”

“Ah, yeah, ya would…so see ya soon then?”

“See ya very soon.”

The phone hung up, and Holloway got to work.

While she was waiting for Duke to get too the school, she looked at a photo of one of Max’s reports. Why it was on the database she had no idea but thank god it was. She could use it as a comparison. As someone with a photographic memory, she remembered everything much to her dismay. It was both a blessing and a curse. Right now, she could use it as a blessing. She’d memorised that writing on the walls. She needed no image to prove to her the truth when the truth was right in front of her. Getting the handwriting firm in her mind, she looked to one of his exam papers that, for whatever reason, had been digitally marked. Or, marked and then uploaded digitally. Whatever, it didn’t matter, that wasn’t the point. The point was that, after Holloway scanned her eyes over the text, it became very clear what was going on.

The writing on the wall came from Max Jagerman’s hand.

She ran a hand through her hair, cursing. She hoped it wouldn’t come down to that. Before long, she was more than certain PEIP would be on their tail and that was the last thing they wanted. Before long, if she wasn’t quick, then everything would spiral out of control and the living would cease. If she didn’t work fast, then everything was going to go wrong. She couldn’t risk losing now. Not again. Holloway thought back to her training, back to her motives. If Max Jagerman had uttered those words in Waylon Hall, then he would be a ghost. The one thing she knew how to do for definite was capture ghosts. All she needed was a glass jar and she’d be on her way. That part was easy. What wasn’t easy was figuring out the basics.

Holloway knew for a fact Max Jagerman’s soul, to some extent, was attached to Nibblenephim. Nibblenephim, The One Who Feasts In The Dark, a cannibal who thrived on the blood of the innocent who would leech off of his hosts to ensure he survived the nights he couldn’t walk the earth. Evil. He was evil, and he had claimed the life of Max Jagerman. The poor boy…

He probably hadn’t known what he was getting into. She hadn’t when she’d signed her life away. For a chance of immortality, she had let herself lose everything else. It was the opposite for him, in a way, if her theory was correct. It wasn’t even a matter of theorising. She knew what had happened. She’d been able to detect it. A soul half-empty had walked into her office and, when she shut the door, blocking off any connections to the outside world, that tingling feeling vanished entirely. No other soul had been present in the room with her. There’d been nothing. Max had been nothing. He was seventeen, he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to deal with the purest form of evil that could potentially exist. Nobody did. Nobody did, but especially not Max.

He'd only been a kid.

She slumped in her seat, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. This would be so much easier to do if she still went by Holloway. It’d be so much easier to explain to Duke. It’d be so much easier to finally let herself go. To jump in the deep end. It’d be so much easier to fix things if she wasn’t Holliday. Miss Holliday had only been around since August. It was October. There wasn’t enough time for her to explain everything all over again to Duke without him getting suspicious. If only he’d have read that note sooner. If only she hadn’t had to clone her being. If only they hadn’t shared that goddamn kiss on the goddamn lake under the goddamn fireworks.

Her mind went back to Rose. Rose, an ambitious musician with huge dreams who had only wanted to find her place. Holloway had saved her. It had been trickier, without The Black Book in her possession, but she had saved Rose. Now, she had to save Max. She had to save Max and everyone else before they ended up dead. If she thought dealing with Rose’s situation over the summer was tricky, then this was even worse.

Things had been so much simpler when she was just a little girl. Now look at her. Immortal, but physically ageing with each soulmate that passed by her.

Holloway could’ve spiralled, could’ve let herself hurt herself more with hypotheticals, but a gentle knocking at the door had her lifting up her head. At once, her face softened. “Hiya, Duke.”

“Heya, darlin’.” In walked Douglas Keane, one of the better social workers in Hatchetfield, who softly closed the door. That was Duke, gentle in his posture, gentle in his personality and gentle overall. Gentle Duke. That day, he’d opted for his signature monochrome look. Black jeans, his black denim jacket with a white tee and his black boots. He stepped forward, sliding into the chair across from her’s. “Ya seem stressed?”

“…ya heard about the Jagerman boy yet?”

Duke looked to the pencil pot on her desk, biting the inside of his cheek as he nodded. “Yes. Yes, I heard about Max…the poor kid.”

“D’ya know him?”

“I wouldn’t say I knew him, more like I knew of him…there was an incident when he was fourteen. I got called to his house. He ran away from home. Came back home four days later, all skin and bones. He and his dad got in a fight and a neighbour called the cops. I had to speak to ‘im…he was always closed off. And I do feel for him. Well, I did…his father is a nasty piece of work. He was ya stereotypical beer enjoyer, if ya get what I’m saying? He was incredibly rough and tumble-“

“Was?” Holloway let her eyebrows furrow. “Did he pass on too, or-“

“Oh, no, goodness no but I won’t even lie to you if me and the rest of the people who worked on his case wished, for Max’s sake, that his father being dead would be the case…and I never forgot it either.” Duke swept a hand through his jet-black hair, looking at her. “He was fourteen. He had a couple bruises. Said he’d just started high school and we talked. He said he had aspirations of being a footballer, and for once, I was able to see him smilin’. Away from his friends, he’s a completely different person. Well, he was…at least when he spoke with me…and then because we couldn’t gather enough evidence, either because it wasn’t there or because Max refused to admit it, we couldn’t get him the help he deserved. It…it almost killed me, having to walk away, to know what was going on behind those doors. And of course I strove to get him security but I work alongside the HFPD.”

“Alongside the HFPD and your friend, right?”

He laughed, tilting his head as he did so. “Before she passed, yes. Yes, I did.”

Knowing she was stepping on cautious territory, she let her shoulders slump. Let herself become as approachable as possible. “Would you be able to tell me about her?”

“That depends on what it is exactly you want to know about her…there was a lot to Miss Holloway.”

Nodding, she clasped her hands together. “I mean,  what happened in the summer? Before she died?”

Duke sucked in a breath, picking at the skin on his thumb. “I…I got called, to this family. Their daughter, Rose, she’s in the local band. Needy Beast? Heard of them?”

She shook her head. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Ah. It’s only her, her friend Skud and the guitarist, Thrash, who’s in his thirties…he’s like her guardian. Rose and Thrash. Anyway, Rose went to a gig one night, went out to listen to some music in the back of this one guy’s van and then…smashed up guitar zone. So I had to go deal with it and I called Holloway in…she said something about a literal killer song being attached to Rose’s soul. Originally, she said it’d be an easy fix, for she’d use her book. I don’t know what book she was looking for but she seemed distressed by the fact she couldn’t find it. She said she needed to…harness the power of T’Noy Karaxis?”

“That’s a complicated name.”

Duke hummed. “She managed to do it, but to do it, she had to take the song on to herself and…” He scratched the back of his neck. “And she died.”

“She seemed rather honourable.”

“Oh, she was. But I…it doesn’t feel like she just died.”

“As in…?”

“As in, she gave me a note. Before she died. She gave me a note and she told me to read it and…and I kept the note. It got ruined in the rain so I can’t read it anymore. I mean, I can’t read most of it…I can, however, still read the part where she told me to have some pie. She’d always do that. There had to be literal magic in her pies which…wouldn’t surprise me…she was magical. In her element, she practically spat glitter. I don’t know what she did that made her so likeable, I don’t know how she was able to do the things she did but she did them and…and now she’s gone.”

“…it sounds like you cared about her a lot?”

He laughed then. “Please forgive me, this may be overstepping considering we don’t know each other too well, Miss Holliday but to care about her was impossible. I was far beyond caring for her by the time she died. No. I loved her…and my one regret was never getting to tell her. She…she was strictly against falling in love but when you were around her…and it wasn’t just me. It seemed like everyone in town loved her but I was the lucky one. I got to be her colleague, and that’s the best thing I could possibly ask for.”

“So I’m taking, with this Holloway, it wasn’t an average day at work?”

“When you were with Holloway, she’d show you the impossible.”

That was her cue to segue into the main topic. “So, would you go as far as to say that you think ghost are real?”

“Oh, without a doubt. I know for a fact ghosts are real. She told me that, and I believed her. And it may sound really quite stupid but when I feel lonely or sometimes even…” He let his voice trail off. Her mind filled in the blanks.

‘Even unable to carry on going,’ she told herself.

“…it feels like she’s right there next to me. I like to think she’d choose to haunt me for the rest of my life, I really do.”

She looked over, a sad smile written in her eyes. If only he knew the truth. If only she could tell him. “Then what if I were to tell you something exclusively insane?”

“It can’t be as insane as some of the trips she made me go on, but let me hear ya out.”

“Alright.” She cracked her knuckles. “Max Jagerman isn’t dead. I’m almost certain he’s haunting Hatchetfield High.”

“…what?”

“This is exclusive news. The HFPD haven’t released it yet but today, the dead bodies of Kyle Clauger, Brenda Campbell and Jason Jepsen were found in the boy’s locker room. On the walls were three words. Those words are three quarters of an ancient ritual tied to The Old Waylon Place, know of it?”

“Boy, do I ever.”

“The fourth word has yet to be written, but I fear that if Max finds another victim, that if he writes the fourth word into existence then-“

“Wait. You haven’t explained how you know that this is Max doing this. Or if Max is haunting Hatchetfield High-“

“Because I recognised the handwriting. I have a photographic memory, and I pulled up one of his reports. Max Jagerman wrote those three words which means he most definitely knows the fourth word to unleash the ritual and-“

“How do you know this?”

“…I had…contacts, I’ll say.”

“Contacts?”

“It isn’t something I can speak about, and I’m sorry. I know for your time with Miss Holloway, all she did was keep secrets and I know I don’t make things easier but…for your sake, it’s easier if I don’t tell you.”

He nodded, but Holloway couldn’t dismiss the undeniable look of disappointment in his eyes. “No, I do understand. You gotta keep some things confidential, right?”

“Exactly, and I’m glad you understand…but it isn’t just Max who I’m concerned for. I’m…I need to speak with Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski, and I need you here while I do it. I feel as if you’d appreciate that, if you were here while I explained everything to them. Things may escalate.” She turned back to her computer, loading up Peter and Stephanie’s schedules.

“Mr Spankoffski and Miss Lauter? What have they done?”

“It’s not what they’ve done, it’s what they haven’t done, Doug.”

He looked her up and down. “Ya…Ya called me Doug.”

“…it’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes but…for the first few-ya usually call me Duke.”

“Oh, do I?” She pulled up her emails, beginning to draft one to their teachers. “It’s a force of habit then. You told me your name was Doug, didn’t ya?”

“I-“ He cleared his throat. “I don’t mind it. Being called Duke, I mean. It was just…yeah, no, it don’t matter. I don’t mind being called Duke. I should’ve clarified that sooner.”

“At least I know now for future reference.” She leaned back in her chair. “So, now, we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For Miss Lauter and Mister Spankoffski.”

Five minutes passed before there was a knock at the door, and in walked the two people Miss Holloway had wanted to see. By that point in time, she’d managed to brief a story with Duke, so he knew to play along. He was stood up beside her, and Steph and Pete took their seats in front of the desk. She knew she had to be careful. She knew she had to be as gentle as possible but that didn’t seem to be an option. This was tricky and likely wasn’t going to get better. She had to at least try.

After quickly introducing Duke, she attempted to jump into the main body of conversation. “I’m sure you’re both confused-“

“We haven’t done anything wrong. What do you want?” Steph asked her upfront.

At least it made her job easier, to get right into the topic. “I just wanna ask you some questions about Maxwell Jagerman-“

Peter flinched, looking away as Stephanie tensed, keeping her eyesight directly on her. “He’s dead. What else do you want me to tell you? He was murdered in The Waylon Place, where we definitely were not, and…and that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“May I ask what Max Jagerman was to the two of you?”

“He bullied Pete and he was…my relationship with him is complicated-was…complicated…”

“And there is nothing else that went on between you and him?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright, I apologise for making assumptions.” She clapped her hands together as Duke looked down at her. She could see the look in his eyes, how he was convinced she was calling in kids for the wrong reasons, but she knew what she was doing. “And I apologise if this is another assumption I shouldn’t be making but I would like you two to explain something else to me?”

“Do we fucking have to-“

“Steph,” Pete said gently, reaching for her hand. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we can go.”

“…fine,” she mumbled, though didn’t reach her hand out to take his.

Watching as Pete awkwardly pulled his hand away after a few seconds, watching as Stephanie crossed her arms together. There, Holloway bit the bullet, delving straight into what she needed to ask them. “I just wanted to ask you about if you could explain the outcome of The Apotheosis to me.” She watched as they both froze, refusing to look at each other or her and Duke. “I mean, I know it’s where you got that scar, Peter…the scar on your wrist? And I’m more than aware of the helicopter crash giving you your scar, Stephanie.”

Pete gulped, a sweat forming on his forehead. “Uh, how do you know that?”

“I just want to check we’re aligned in what we think, regarding The Apotheosis, though I can detect it’s making the both of you uncomfortable…I guess talking about Black Friday 2019 may suit you better?” She watched as Steph tensed more. She wished it didn’t have to be so blunt, in the way she explained it, but it had to be. “After all, Max was impaled on The Lakeside Mall’s swan fountain, so I would figure you two would know some things-“

“Stop.” Steph looked up. “Fucking stop it! You’re not supposed to know that shit!”

“Sh-she’s right,” Pete said, though his voice was narrow and quiet. “You aren’t-you definitely are not supposed to know about any of that. Especially not The Apotheosis…” She took note as to how Pete gripped his scarred arm when he spoke about it. She was going places, though, she was getting to the root of it. “How…how do you know all of that?”

“Fuck that! Who the fuck are you?!” Steph asked, shooting Holloway a cold glance.

“Stephanie, may I ask you a question directly before we proceed?”

“Like what?”

“What’s Wiggly saying to you right now?”

Steph went silent, blinking for a few seconds. “…I don’t know how you knew about Wiggly too but…but I can’t feel him. I can’t hear him, I can’t-“

“And Peter.” Holloway looked in his direction. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“Suddenly very nervous!”

“How’s your head?”

Like his girlfriend, Pete went quiet too. “…clearer? But-but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Does it?”

She cleared her throat. “I believe I owe you all an explanation, but it won’t be easy to listen to.”

“I think we deserve an explanation because as far as I’m concerned, we’re the only two who know about-about what we went through and-“

“And I know, Peter, but I haven’t been able to access you in your timeline. Not until now. Not until I got the chance.” She gestured to the room. “You have both encountered The Black and White, haven’t you?”

“We fuckin’ fell through it,” Steph said. “Thanks again, Pete.”

“I did what I had to do! I had to save you!”

“And look where we are now!” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and again, Pete curled in on himself.

“Where you are now is the best dimension, for the both of you. You happened to fall through a barrier that brought you both straight to me and that was for the best, if I’m being honest. Everything you’ve ever done has brought you here to me today. Here, in my office…which I cast a spell over to ensure that The Black couldn’t reach you.” She could feel Duke’s eyes on her again. She could feel him questioning everything. How badly she wanted to silence herself, turn to him and apologise, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “The Black can’t reach you. The Lords can’t reach you. What is said here is said in confidentiality. Nothing can reach you, and nothing can get out…there may be some loopholes, and I haven’t entirely figured it out but-“

“So Wiggly can’t reach me?” Steph asked her, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “You’re serious?”

She nodded. “He can’t reach you, and he can’t reach me either. Now, Stephanie, I need to ask you something important because I know you’d know where it is.”

“…and what would that be?”

“Where’s the book?”

“…the book?”

“The Black Book.” She specified. “I know your father has it and kindly, I would like it returned.”

“It…belongs to my father, I swear, I just-who even are you? What business do you have trying to interfere with my life right now! Especially with the book!”

“I fear some of you may not like the answer I’m going to give you, but I also fear that there may be a loophole which’ll allow you to benefit from-“

“Shut up and just say who you are!”

She bit the inside of her cheek, resisting a smirk. “Alright. I fear you deserve answers. All…of you…” Exhaling, she straightened her posture, looking directly over to Peter. “My name is Miss Holloway. You’ll all know me as the woman who ran Miss Retro’s who died in the summer. It’s all a lie, and I’ve been trying to reach you two for the past two dimensions, including this one. You’re in critical danger. I hope you realise that.”

“…what?” Both Pete and Steph asked in unison.

“To put it bluntly, you’re both now products of The Black and White, as is Max Jagerman, though I’m sure you’ve noticed he isn’t entirely…human. Being a product of The Black and White myself, I’m able to detect a new connection. When I had Max sat in my office, I felt a disconnect from one of Wiggly’s brothers, one of the more…the more bloodthirsty ones, shall I say.”

“So Max is dealing with a fuckin’ Lord In Black as well?!” Steph asked her.

“Unfortunately so, and unfortunately for him, he dealt with The Cannibal.”

“The fucking what?!” Pete burst out.

Holloway looked at the two of them, letting her words mentally process before she spoke them. “The Lords In Black consist of five gender non-conforming brothers. There is Wiggog Y’Wrath, who you would know as Wiggly or Tickle-Me Wiggly, who is The Lord In Black. He’s the King of The Black. You’d know him as the green one. He rules over the pocket between space and time to give himself a sense of superiority. Then, there is Nibblenephim. Nibblenephim, or Nibbly, is bright pink and is known as The One Who Feasts In The Dark. He can only access Hatchetfield in it’s physical form one day a year, the night of The Honey Queen Pageant, and he is a bloodthirsty cannibal. Technically. He’s…it’s complicated, so I’ll keep it short, but his hosts would be cannibals. Max Jagerman, unfortunately, is that cannibal.”

“Jesus…” Pete whispered. “Max is a cannibal? And also living?”

“Because he’s been carried over from one dimension to the next with the power of The Black.” She took a breath. “Then, there’s T’Noy Karaxis, who I know you’ve both seen. Peter, at the end of The Apotheosis, when you were in Jenny Wilkinson’s house in Clivesdale. You looked out the window and who did you see?”

Pete blinked, thinking back. “…a cosplayer?”

“And Stephanie,” she said, not answering Pete’s question. “When you first met Wiggog Y’Wrath, there was someone else with him, wasn’t there?”

“…there was…a blond-haired fuck.”

“That would be Tinky.”

“Tinky?” She asked.

“T’Noy Karaxis, The Bastard of Space and Time, otherwise known as Tinky. Now there’s only so much I can tell you for the sake of your mental health, Peter, but unfortunately, Tinky has a prophet too, not that he knows it.” She looked at him. “Tinky took a liking to your older brother a while ago-“

“No.”

“-and turned him into what Hatchetfield knows as The Homeless Guy. I’m sorry for being blunt, but there’s-“

“No, I knew about The Homeless Guy.” He told her. “…but Ted’s T-Tinky’s prophet?”

“Ted is to Tinky what you are to Pokotho.”

“To who?”

“Pokotho. He’s the youngest out of his five brothers, and the second most dangerous. Pokey, back in 2018, formed a meteor that’d strike The Starlight Theatre and, to your misfortune, took a favouring to you instead of who he was supposed to. Pokey choosing you as his prophet, Pete, is the reason you spiralled down this hell path in the first place.”

Steph looked down to her lap, flushing with anger. “And the fifth?”

“The fifth is Lord Bliklotep, The Watcher With One Thousand Eyes. Blinky dresses entirely in purple, and much like Nibbly, takes a much more feminine look nowadays. Now, he does have a prophet, but who they are is a mere speculation of mine at the moment. It’s not something I can officially disclose-“

“So we’re fucked?”

“No. You’re not. Not with me, you’re not. I can make this right, but I need my book back. To fix all of this, I need that book back, so where is it?”

Looking into Miss Holloway’s eyes, Steph stared her down. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because there’s an anomaly. With the halting of Max’s death in this timeline should’ve come the halting of your migraines. I know they haven’t stopped. Isn’t that right, Stephanie?” Her silence spoke volumes, so Holloway proceeded. “Max has made deals with The Black too which has enabled him to do something dangerous. If I don’t intervene now, things are going to get worse. So, do you know where it is?”

“No.” She said sharply. “But I will attempt to ask my fucking dad and see what happens. Now, are we allowed to go Miss…?”

“Holloway.”

“Holloway?”

“You may.” She watched as Steph scrambled to stand. “But…I mean it. If things decline and start getting worse, you come straight to me. I mean it. I’ll be able to help you.”

“Sure. Pete, come on.”

Steph left the room as Pete looked at her. “I’m sorry…thank you. I’ll do my best to get the book to you and-“

“You’re aware of me now. That’s all that matters. And if you need anything or feel threatened at home, make sure to call the HFPD and ask directly for Douglas Keane.”

“I will.” He offered her a weak smile before following Steph out the door.

It closed, and a heaviness fell on the room. Though it was safe, and though there was that loophole in motion, she had no idea if it’d actually work. Now she needed to confront the thing that scared her the most. Telling Duke Keane the truth. She didn’t make an effort to move. She didn’t make an effort to speak.

He, however, did. “…you’re…you’re not dead?”

She shook her head, finally looking up at him. “You read my note. Wouldn’t you know that?”

Duke’s eyes filled with realisation then as everything flooded back to him. Everything she had written on the note. Everything that had happened the night Miss Holloway had supposedly died. “…I wasn’t supposed to send you to the morgue.”

“I’m still not too happy about you waiting til you were home to do so, Duke. I coulda still had Retro’s, and you know I loved that place.”

“It’s how you knew I liked being called Duke. It’s-it’s how Miss Holliday called me Duke when she headed inside the building and-“

“Hey.” She grabbed his hand, standing, meeting his eyes. “There’s no use spiralling. I know it’s a lot, and I know you have a billion answer that I will answer with time but-“

For once, it was her getting cut off. Her getting cut off because all of a sudden, she was being pushed into something new. A kiss. She was being kissed by Douglas Keane, and she kissed back. A hand tangled in her hair, holding the back of her head as his other hand held her waist. She draped her arm over his shoulder, letting her other hand rest on the small of his back as she kissed him back with enough ferocity to start a fire. He was kissing her, and she was kissing back.

He was kissing her, and she was kissing back.

When they pulled away, she went to say something. Before she could even manage to, he’d wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. She blinked, her head resting on his chest as she could feel his shaking breathing on the top of her hair, but she didn’t hesitate to return the hug.

“I thought you were dead,” he told her, in shock.

“I know you did, and Duke, I’m so sorry-“

“I mourned you. I cried over you.”

“I know.”

“I thought you were gone forever.” His voice cracked, and her heart all but broke.

“And all I can say is I’m sorry, but it was for the better of the greater good. I had to…”

“We kissed under the fireworks.”

“I was trying to say goodbye…hopefully I never have to tell you goodbye again.”

Squeezing her, tightening his hug, he spoke again. “…and what if that loophole doesn’t work?”

“What do ya mean, Duke?”

“What happens if I walk right out that door and I forget everything about you?” He shut his eyes. “What happens if I go back out there and think of you as just Miss Holliday, the school counsellor who called me in to help deal with some kids again? What if I forget you’re alive? What if I forget I told you everything?! All my feelings, all of my-“

“Duke.”

“I can’t.” Despite what he was saying, he still gripped her tighter. “I can’t risk walking out there and losing you again. The thought it just-I can’t do it.”

“I know you can’t.” She pulled away slightly, cupping his cheek. “But you won’t.”

“And if I do?”

“Then we’ll have to do this all over again, won’t we?”

He reopened his eyes, licking his lips, nodding. “I guess so…” He looked down into her beautiful teal eyes, faintly aware of her stroking his cheek with her thumb. “…I guess I can tell you that…that I love you. And it might make things easier if you know that, only in case this won’t work and-“

“I love you too.”

“…you do?”

“When…when I made my deal, they told me the only way I’d be able to age was if I encountered my soulmate. Surprise surprise, I’m not in my thirties anymore.”

Breathlessly, Duke laughed. “Holls…”

“But I do think the one thing that will shock you is the fact I know you named your cat after me. How is Holly anyway?”

“She’s…she’s good, yeah. Rose likes her a lot.”

“Heya, Duke?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“…my name’s Holly-Aloisa Holloway…Holly Holloway, if ya wanna keep it short.”

He laughed again. “It fits you so damn well.” He cupped her cheek, then, unable to prevent his smile. “Holly Holloway.”

“Duke Keane.”

“…do you…do you wanna come over for drinks tonight?”

“If you’re able to get out that door with remembering everything then yes, I will.”

“…I should test that, shouldn’t I?”

“Certainly.”

She felt his reluctance as he let her go, and she could all but see his hand tremble as he reached for the door. Still, bravely, he left her office. Seconds passed, seconds that felt like minutes, but from the other side of the door, he turned around, beaming. “I still remember.”

“You do?”

He raced back in, picking her up in a hug, holding her close as he spun her round. “I fucking remember, Holls!”

She laughed, gripping on to him. “You’ll drop me-“

“I lost you once, I’d never let another thing hurt you again!”

Once he’d stopped spinning, he set her on the ground. “So drinks?”

Holloway nodded. “Do you know what? Drinks sound delightful.” She took his hand. “Now I gotta get back to work, and so do you, but I’ll see you tonight, Douglas Keane.”

“I’ll see ya tonight, Holly Holloway.” He squeezed her hand as a goodbye, exiting the room backwards.

The last thing Holly Holloway saw before he left was the giddy smile on his face. It was the one thing that’d give her hope for the rest of the day. If she wasn’t doing this for the kids, then she was doing it to stay with him. Duke Keane was the only fire she needed. Duke was all she needed.

With a new fiery determination to her, she took a seat back in her chair, looking down. Though things were fine for her, they most certainly were not for Stephanie Lauter or Peter Spankoffski. With the ritual in the front of her mind, she cracked her knuckles and came to a decision. Once that book was back in her hands, she’d become unstoppable. After all, it wasn’t a matter of if anymore, but a matter of when. The Lords had hurt the youth of Hatchetfield enough, and it was time she put a stop to that once and for all.

She had to put a stop to it, and she was so fucking ready to do that. After all, she was Holly Holloway, the unstoppable witch, and nothing was defeating her. Never again would she be defeated. This was the witch’s last battle, and she was more than ready.

“Bring it on, Hatchetfield,” she whispered to herself. “For the sake of these kids, bring it on.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the day passed without any further complications, and so did the day after. Even the day after that passed by with nothing going wrong. Save for the fact that, by the Wednesday, the school was a lot quieter. A lot more tense. By that point, everyone had heard about what happened earlier on in the week. Kyle Clauger, Brenda Campbell and Jason Jepsen had been murdered. There was a knock on effect, of course. With the deaths of the three teens came the decline of the mental state of their friends. Stacey Zimmerman wasn’t coping well at all. She’d become a half of her former self, quiet and tearful. The tiniest things set her off, it seemed, and they were usually rooted at the hand of her twin sister. Brad Callahan, on the other hand, had seemed to notice that no matter how badly he wanted the level of status that Max had, he wasn’t getting it. He backpedalled, deciding to stay safe in the backseat. He stayed safe in the backseat and did the best he could to take care of Stacey. If he couldn’t rule over Hatchetfield High, he could at least look out for her. She needed it, after all. She essentially had no one now. Nobody had anyone now. With no one leading the social hierarchy of Hatchetfield High, things truly did begin to collapse leaving everyone with exactly one question – what exactly did that mean for the school?

The first huge post-collapse move started with Tom Houston cancelling The Big Game. That was the thing to send Brad Callahan spiralling. His former teammates had died but the prospect of not being able to play against Clivesdale truly had him losing his mind. The Nighthawks were gonna get creamed anyway. The Chemists always fucking won, but they might’ve had a shot if he was quarterback. Still, not even someone like Brad Callahan could deny that the decision to cancel The Big Game was a fair one. Three of their star players were dead, as was one of the cheerleaders. They couldn’t get new players in enough time, and so, they had to cancel. It was merely unfortunate and a true test of fate, but that wasn’t the issue. The issue was what was to happen now moving forward.

Since the deaths on Monday, physical activity regarding The Black and White had dwindled significantly. There’d been no new presences within the school since the beginning of the week. The school had become…lighter, almost. Like they’d been trapped in a dark room and someone had finally opened a curtain. Glimmers of hope were beginning to spark through the school, and they were beginning to find their footing in their new roles.

Obviously, with it being Hatchetfield, rumours as to who killed the three teens spread quickly. There were many theories about who did it, each as wild as the next. The key points everyone knew for definite were that the murderer had to be someone in the school, or someone who had access to the school, because they’d been killed during school hours in the changing room. It most likely would be a guy, because it was the boys’ room, but nobody had been proven innocent yet. Of course, it’d be easier if there was a definitive answer or any clues as to who could possibly want the three of them dead, but the murderer was traceless. It’d be easier if nobody had died at all but what would matter? They’d died, and Hatchetfield High was evolving. All Hatchetfield High was doing was evolving, to welcome a new age, and Hatchetfield was more than ready to embrace it.

And so, on Thursday afternoon, three days after Kyle, Brenda and Jason had, unfortunately, died, Hatchetfield High would find that things were finally at peace. Though it was a schoolwide thing, to embrace the new era, nowhere felt is as strongly as the theatre department did.

Having just walked in from her math class, Ruth Fleming was more than delighted to walk into the theatre to see the back profiles of three of the people she would deem herself closest to. Usually after she got in for rehearsal, she’d drop her rucksack off in her lighting booth and then head down for a briefing with Mulberry but the excitement of the sight of her friends was too much to handle. She all but ran down the stairs, dropping her bag to the floor between the seats as she sat down next to the three of them. “I didn’t know you guys were here for The Barbecue Monologues rehearsals too!”

Richie Lipschitz turned to face her. “Oh, I’m not. PJ and Reese are. I…I figured I’d get some extra revision in and-“

Reese leaned over Richie, looking at Ruth. “He’s here for you.”

He blushed, but Ruth beamed. She took his hand. “You’re here for me?”

“I-I mean, yeah…?”

She hugged him tightly. “You’re the best boyfriend ever!”

Richie coughed into his elbow. “Fucking hell, Ruth! How much perfume do you have on?!”

“Look. I’m allergic to deodorant. I will get what I’m given and I’ll use it accordingly!”

“I’m asthmatic!”

“Oh shit yeah-“ She looked at him. “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t think breathing is very safe for me right now. I think if I inhale anymore fruit-scented chemicals I may die-”

“Shh, don’t jinx it!” Reese told him sharply. “Three of us have already gone down, don’t make us the next!”

Ruth ignored her, however, playing along with Richie’s joke. “I’ll play the sans track at your funeral, but only if I’m the one to kill you.” She grinned, looking at PJ and Reese. “So are you guys here for rehearsal too?”

They both nodded. PJ shyly smiled, Reese’s hand in theirs, as they turned to look in Ruth’s direction. “Uh, I’m on costume help and Reese is-“

“I’m an understudy! For Caitlin!” She answered, a lot more enthusiastic about that topic.  

“Hell yeah! Go you!” Ruth high fived Reese.

“Thanks! It’s my first real acting gig so I’m really excited for it. Plus, I saw The Barbecue Monologues in New York when me and my dad went and it was really good so I’m just really excited to understudy!”

“As you should be! Understudies carry the show! With no understudy then there is no show, am I right?”

“Of course!” Reese gestured to Richie. “And he’s here for youuuu-“

Richie turned to face her. “You said you signed up for The Barbecue Monologues because PJ was doing costumes for it! Don’t you start on me for being down bad for my girlfriend when you are exactly the same!”

PJ turned to their girlfriend. “…you did that for me?”

Reese, blushing, nodded. “I-I mean, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to do it otherwise and-“

“Oh my god, we’re all so gay.” Ruth interrupted. “Fun fact about me! I fucking hate gay people!”

PJ ended up nodding, playing along. “Oh my god, me too. Sorry, Reesey, I’m like, super homophobic.”

Reese gasped. “We’ve been dating for nearly a year now and I all of a sudden find this out?! Well, guess what, PJ! I’m fucking transphobic!”

“I’m literally going to have to break up with you. This is so tragic.”

“It’s like Romeo and Juliet modernised in colour 2020.” Ruth added, fidgeting with her headgear.

“Wow.” Reese said, deadpan. “I can’t believe us girls are either transgender of gay. Good for us.”

“Yeah, I guess if I’m homophobic and you’re homophobic, Reese, then it cancels out.”

“It’s math, it only makes sense.”

“I literally just got out of math so yeah! I would know!”

Glancing back up to Richie, PJ pointed at him. “And what about you?”

Richie sat up a little. “What about me?”

“Where do you stand? I get a cishet vibe from you.”

He burst out laughing, a wholehearted wheeze. “Me? Cishet?!”

Ruth couldn’t help laughing herself. “PJ, I admire you in every which way, but his name is Richard. Willingly, his name is Richard, and this motherfucker wears about eighteen layers no matter the time of day.”

“They think I’m cishet-“ Richie said, grabbing Ruth’s hand to stop him from falling off his seat. “Oh my God, Pete would die!”

“You’re LGBT too?” They asked sincerely.

Richie collected himself, clearing his throat, nodding. “Sorry. I didn’t realise people immediately didn’t realise but uh. Yeah. I musta slipped under the radar but uh, hi, Richie Lipschitz, I’m pansexual.”

Ruth leaned over to PJ, smirking. “He’s also got the nicest set of tits I’ve ever seen on a guy.”

PJ stood up then, pointing directly at him. “You’re trans too?!”

“Okay, but in my defence, I don’t speak about it much because it honestly isn’t too safe for me to but-“

“You pass so well, holy shit!”

“…I do?”

“Yes!” They looked down to their girlfriend. “Reese! Did you know he was one of us?”

“I…I did not, actually.” Reese looked to Richie again. “When…why? Sorry, my brain broke a little at that. I don’t know why I’m so shocked but…”

“No, it’s okay. Uh, I came out when I was fifteen and…yeah. Just, always had my hair short and shit but when I moved in with my Uncle I could…I could really start to be me.”

Ruth leaned into him. “And I mean, no cisgender person has as big of an anime addiction as he does.”

“Okay. That was aimed at me for the sake of bullying, Ruth Fleming.”

“You’re a weeb, Richard.” She scrunched her nose up. “Ew. I’m dating a weeb and a guy who actually named himself Richard. What the fuck is my life?”

“Keep that up and I won’t give you my tits when I get top surgery.”

Reese’s eyes widened as her head snapped to look at Ruth. “Wait, what?!”

“Oh my god, do you not know either?”

“Am I missing out on something now?!”

Ruth shrugged. “I’m trans too.”

“You’re fucking what?!”

PJ sat back down. “Okay. That I knew.”

“I thought everyone knew after freshman year! I didn’t realise there were people who didn’t know!”

“Well I didn’t know!” Reese looked at her. “Like, why am I the only cisgender here now!?”

Richie placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a lesbian, it cancels out.”

“So like, you, Pete and Richie? You’re all trans?”

Ruth nodded. “I met ‘em when we were in grade school, so we really did transition together. Kinda. Pete’s the lucky bitch on hormones. And he got top surgery first.”

“The lucky son of a bitch.” Richie shook his head. “But not for long…my uncle's taking me to get my first T shot at the weekend so-“

"Your uncle is so fucking sexy." 

"Ruth...no he isn't."

"Your aunt would think so."

"One, she's not my aunt. Two, you think everyone's sexy."

"I think you're sexy. And your uncle. And your aunt-"

"Again, she's not my aunt-"

"Who's your uncle?" Reese asked. 

Richie cleared his throat. "Uh...Paul Matthews and uh...I live with him and-"

PJ gasped. "The fucking dork at the Beanie's counter?!" 

He clicked his fingers. "That'd be the one." 

They tilted their head, admiring him. "Ya know, now you point it out, I can kinda see the relation-"

“-but me and Richie have a plan. I’m swapping my dick for his tits! That’s how it’s gonna work!”

“I mean, that’s iconic of the both of you, honestly. Fuck yeah. Go transgenders.” PJ said, punching the air. “Uh, how has Pete been anyway? You two are closer to him than me and Reese are but we’ve noticed he’s been kinda down and…”

Richie bit his lip. “Yeah, uh…he and Steph are…well, me and Ruth think he and Steph are going through a rough patch, but he won’t openly talk about it so we’re respecting him not wanting to talk about it-“

“-even though it’s literally torture,” Ruth added.

“But we’ve let him know we’re here for him and shit.”

Reese spoke up again then, a theory crossing her mind. “Do you think that uh, that the murders on Monday had something to do with it? With Pete’s mood? I know that it’s fucked Callahan up big time.”

“Nah, Callahan’s only fucked up mentally because he doesn’t get to be the QB. But uh…maybe.”

PJ grabbed Reese’s script from her bag, flicking through. “…is it wrong of me to ask who you think did it?”

“What? Murdered everyone?” Reese asked. “I don’t know but I’ve sure got theories!”

Ruth perked up, looking at her. “Oh my god, who?!”

“Okay. And here me out on this, because I know I saw him wandering round school on Monday but, what business does Dan Reynolds from Action News have casually walking into here, saying he’s a volunteer councillor, to then fucking head off to the locker rooms instead of Miss Holliday’s office?”

PJ clicked her fingers, nodding. “You’re so right, actually! I don’t think I saw Dan Reynolds go anywhere near Holliday’s office all of Monday!”

Richie laughed. “You’re ridiculous if you think Dan Reynolds would kill anyone. My uncle says he’s just a really skinny white guy with no backbone to hold himself up in a fight. If Dan Reynolds can’t fight then how would he commit murder? I mean, if it’s anyone from Action News, it’s Donna Daggit who’ll be killing them.”

“Yeah, but what motive would she have?”

“Didn’t she used to work on film sets?” Ruth asked the group. “Like, horror movies and shit? I’m sure she’d know how to get away with murder. Plus, she works as a news reporter like, if anyone’s able to bribe her way out of murder, I think it’d be her.”

“And I still think it’s Dan Reynolds.”

“Good for you, Reese.” PJ pat her arm. “See my first thought was that it was Max Jagerman, but then I remembered he’s dead.”

Ruth and Richie’s laugh turned more nervous. They never had been decent liars. Reese, however, nodded, not noticing. “I mean, it’s a good theory but he is dead.”

“There’s so much murder going on in Hatchetfield lately, fucking Christ.”

“Grace Chasity’s the only one fucking Christ,” Ruth told them.

Richie burst out laughing again, though it was more sincere and less filled with guilt. “Ruth!”

“Grace is the one fucking Christ, I’m the one fucking you.” She grinned. “Okay but what if it was Callahan who killed them? Like, he was the one to find them, wasn’t he?”

Reese clicked her fingers. “That’s a very good point, Ruth Fleming.”

“I try my hardest.”

“Didn’t the coroner say that there was evidence they’d been murdered with an axe though?” PJ got straight to the point. “A hatchet, I’m pretty sure they said.”

“It’d be fucking poetic if the kids died in Hatchetfield at the hands of a hatchet. Who’s swinging the hatchet, now, in hatchet town, ya know? Ya think they’re into Shakespeare?” Ruth asked.

Reese turned to her. “…you said Romeo and Juliet not that long ago.”

“…no I didn’t.”

“Ruth didn’t kill them, she was with me.” Richie told her. “We were at lunch together. We were eating in my car.”

“Getting eaten out in your car,” Ruth said, adding a fake cough on the end.

PJ gestured to the both of them. “These two.”

“You really are fuckin’ nerds.”

“It’s in our name, and we’re hope for nerds everywhere. But I didn’t kill them. I was giving Richie a blowjob.”

“It was hot shit.”

“Okay, drastically moving on.” Reese clicked her knuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was someone like…wait hang on, didn’t those kids die at Abstinence Camp too?”

“They fucking did!” Ruth sat herself back up. “Gabe Kilten, Mary Michaels and Noah Adams! They died too!”

“At the hands of an axe!” The four of them said in unison.

“Literally, and I’m so serious, I wouldn’t be surprised if that one counsellor did it. What’s his name? Jerry Hachett?”

“His surname’s fucking hatchet!” PJ set Reese’s script back in her bag. “He’s also like, batshit insane.”

“More or less than Henry Hidgens, though?”

“Less obviously, but still insane.”

“Didn’t it come out that he lost his like, girlfriend or something in those three days too?” Richie asked. “And wasn’t her name also Jeri?”

“Yes, Richie, she was our old school counsellor, and she got split in two, literally.” Ruth took his hand, shifting. “But I see where you’re coming from. I wouldn’t put it past him either and-“

“Hey, guys.” A new voice spoke, standing in the aisle.

They looked at him, offering a wave. “Hey, Trevor,” they all said.

“Uh, just wanted to let you know that Miss Mulberry wants to start running the show from the top soon so uh-“

“How long, Trevor?” Ruth asked.

If she wasn’t mistaken, he blushed when she spoke to him. “Uh…fifteen minutes?”

“Cool.” She grabbed her dinosaur rucksack, passing it off to him. “Go put this in the lighting booth and flip the big red switch on the right. I’m staying down here for another ten.”

“Okay. C-cool, I can do that.” He took Ruth’s rucksack. “Uh, PJ? Miss Mulberry wants you backstage.”

“Ugh, woe.” PJ stood. “That’s my cue to go. Reese, kiss good luck?”

“I’d never say no anyway.” Reese gently cupped their girlfriend’s face, kissing her softly. “Now go be the best costumer in the world!” PJ laughed softly and headed off as Trevor headed up the stairs. Then, Reese turned back to Ruth. “Was Trevor fucking blushing?”

“He sure was.” Richie swung his arm around Ruth’s shoulders, holding her in close. “Does he not know I’m your boyfriend?”

“I don’t know…but it’ll be real fucking funny when he finds out.”

The group laughed, tipping their heads back in ferocious, heartfelt laughter. Trevor Coulson, however, would not be able to understand why they were laughing, more focused on getting Ruth Fleming’s bag to the lighting booth. But just because Trevour Coulson wouldn’t be able to figure out what was going on, it didn’t mean the saviour of Hatchetfield High wasn’t already watching.

The tech booth truly was a tiny place, but the lighting part was especially tiny. He figured that Ruth wouldn’t have a problem, considering she was only 5’ tall and extremely skinny. She may as well be a skeleton.

He shuddered. Ergh. Skeletons. He fucking hated skeletons.

There were a couple of chairs there, one for the lighting and one for sound and one in the middle for what he could only assume was for a spectator. He didn’t know. He knew fuck all about theatre, or so he’d say to protect his ego. Who needed an ego to be protecting when he was as powerful as that? The answer was that he didn’t, nor should he. His ego was inflated, and he was on top of the world.

On top of the world, or on top of the rafters in the room.

He sat there, legs dangling off the side, gripping on to a rope to steady himself. He had been waiting for Ruth Flemwad, in all honesty. There’d be nothing more poetic than completing the ritual with the one person he wanted to target. Much to his dismay, she walked straight past the booth and straight down to her stupid boyfriend. It’d only make sense, for the two most disgusting people to date each other. Who else would take them? They may not realise he was still living, but it didn’t mean he didn’t get to decipher their relationship. They were fine. Ruth and Richie could date and it was fine. They were nerds, they could date, and it was fine.

It seemed, however, Richie Lipschitz wasn’t the only one chasing after Ruth Fleming.

He watched as Trevor Coulson walked up the stairs to the booth, his face red with a bright blush and a giddy smile on his face. Ah, yes. He recognised that look. Youthful love, something he’d never get to experience again, both in the sense that he was with Grace and also dead. Sure. He’d let Trevor Coulson relish in that pathetic little crush he had on Ruth Fleming. Why anyone would have a crush on her, he didn’t know. Seems Trevor was stupid enough to take that leap.

As was Max Jagerman, but in the physical sense. When Trevor shut the door to the booth, setting Ruth’s bag down, he jumped down. For someone wearing three inch platforms, he’d have expected that there’d be a loud thud, giving away his identity, removing initial surprise. It must be the perks of working with someone as starved as Nibblenephim. He’d allow Max the chance of shock no matter the situation. That apparently included near-silent platforms. That’d come in handy, when he was pounding the guts out of the fuckin’ nerds Hatchetfield had to offer. First Hatchetfield High, then Sycamore, then Clivesdale, then the entire damn world. His mouth curled into a wide smile. He knew he needed to stay on a small level for now but he could not wait to get moving. He couldn’t wait to ruin the lives of…well, everyone! That started here. That started now.

“How’s your brother?”

Trevor shrieked, jumping, immediately beginning to tremble. “Wh-“

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I asked you how your brother is! I’m being nice!”

“You were murdered!”

“It’s bold of you to assume that I wouldn’t know that myself. And you sound a lot like Brenda Campbell right now. She said the exact same thing before I-“ he gestured slitting his throat. “Except it didn’t exactly go like that for her. The poor girl…she was so scared-“

“You are dead!”

“Mhmm. Keep saying it loud enough, maybe they’ll hear ya outside of this soundproof booth, Trevor! Now tell me how the fuck your brother is!”

Trevor backed up, but not for too long. Max was blocking the door, and there was hardly any room to move, especially for two tall people like him and the ghost before him. His back hit the tech panel and, knowing he was cornered, decided on obeying. “…T-Travis is fine. He’s-look, I don’t know what you want from me and I’m sorry! If you want me to transfer to Sycamore too then I will!”

“God, you’re pathetic!” Flicking the lock on the door, Max found himself questioning why it was there in the first place. Then he decided he didn’t care, that there were bigger things to focus on than a lock. “I don’t want you to move to Sycamore! I asked you how your fucking brother is!” With a quick flick of his wrist, he was, very suddenly, holding a hatchet with an extended handle. The blade tilted Trevor’s chin upwards as he cowered. “Now tell me how your fucking brother is before I change my mind on letting you go!”

Trevor immediately began to ramble. “He-he’s fine! I-he lives with my dad and I live with my mom and we don’t really talk a lot but he’s friends with Ruth and I hear he got a boyfriend while he’s at Sycamore now and he’s really happy and-“

“And you’ve got a crush on Ruth Fleming.” Max’s eyes glowed pink as his smirk became more vivid. “The very same Ruth Fleming who is your older brother’s best friend. What would he say about that?”

“I-I don’t know, we don’t talk often, I said that-“

“And you’re aware of the fact that Ruth Fleming is, in fact, dating Richie Shit Lips, right?”

A look of hurt crossed Trevor’s face. “I-“

“I mean, you would right? If you had a crush on her, you’d know who she’s dating and shit, right? It’s how I got with my Gracie, my beautiful Gracie!”

“Where…you just summoned an axe. From thin air.”

“Mhmm. This is what happens when you die. Ya get a fuck ton of perks!”

“S-so you’re dead?”

“I’m dead, the blood is all but draining from my head, etcetera etcetera.”

“This isn’t happening!” Trevor said, tightly gripping the desk. “This-you’re dead and ghosts aren’t real!”

Max remained smiling as he let the blade press against Trevor’s skin. He let himself cackle as he swiped his neck, creating a single tiny slash. “Oh, sorry, Trevor. I slipped.”

Trevor coughed, gripping at the wound, shaking even more viciously. He knew he couldn’t talk. He knew that he was going to die, but never would he have expected it to be like that. There, in the lighting booth, in full costume for The Barbecue Monologues. The fucking Barbecue Monologues.

The ghost retracted the axe, setting it against a wall as he grabbed a hold of dangling rope. “Now, I know you’ve probably got a billion questions which I’ll be really happy to tell you while you bleed out, so allow me to tell you the truth!” He grabbed Trevor’s collar, getting him to stand. “My name is Max Jagerman and I’m the bloodthirsty servant of a cannibalistic god who saved my life. I’m not from this dimension. Neither is Stephanie Lauter, and neither is Peter Spankoffski. I traversed time and space for the sake of immortality. After all, I am a ghost now. I can’t die.”

“Wh-“

“Shhhh.” Max told him, very carefully wrapping the rope around Trevor’s neck. “Don’t fight it, Trevor. You’ll die anyway.” With another soft laugh, he continued. “I died on Black Friday 2019 after being shot through the head by the mayor. I fell over the balcony of The Lakeside Mall and became impaled on the swan fountain. That’s the truth. The Max who died in The Waylon Place wasn’t fucking real! He was a clone! Meanwhile I was safe in a pocket between space, all dimensions and time itself getting changed into my uniform.” He tightened the rope, letting Trevor see the name on his jacket. “Ya read that? It says Nibbly, with a little heart on the tail? Because that’s what he wants. He wants me to eat the hearts of every motherfucker here.”

Letting go of Trevor, he paced the little distance between the other side of the room and where Trevor was slumped. “I can come and go as I will. My footsteps are silent meaning you would never have heard me coming. I sparkle because sparkling  is fucking cool and you’re lame if you say otherwise, I teleport occasionally, to come and go from The Black and White-oh! Yes! The Black and White! It’s my new home. Very cold, filled with blood…it’s worse than Hell, but I think you’d personally love it and…there’s one more thing. I’m forgetting something.” Max turned around, tapping his chin, looking back to Trevor, who’d managed to sit himself down in Ruth’s chair, trying to wrestle himself free of the rope. “Oh yeah. Grace Chasity’s involved.”

Trevor’s eyes widened, tears stinging them. “Huh?” He choked out.

“We forged a note, luring Kyle Clauger and Brenda Campbell to the boys’ locker room and once I killed them, she lured Jason Jepsen. He died too. I killed all three of ‘em! And they’ll never suspect a fuckin’ thing because I am dead…and so are you. Well, you’re about to be. Any last words, Trevor Coulson?”

“I-“

“You’re right. I don’t care. Say hi to Gracie for me when you’re up there.” Max looked up to where Grace was also sitting, holding a sandbag attached to rope in her hand. With a grin and a nod, Grace dropped the sandbag and Trevor shot straight up.

Garbled choking followed as Trevor continued to fight a fight he’d never win, but not for very long. He flew upwards, and when his head the rafters, there was a sharp crack and then nothing.

Max laughed deeply, grabbing his axe again, looking up at Gracie. “That was anticlimactic.”

“Yes, it sure was. He’s dead now, and we can get a move on…that cut on his neck isn’t going to be enough blood for you to write in.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. Daddy’s got a plan.” Max scaled the wall, sitting back up on the rafter, looking back down at Trevor. “Gracie, you got a smaller blade on ya?”

“Uh, I’ve got a pocket knife I carry around for self defence?”

“Perfect.” He turned to her, giving her the best interpretation of puppy-dog eyes he could provide. “Pwease can I use it?”

She rolled her eyes but found herself unable to resist smiling. “Yes, Maxie. You may.”

“Cool. Now watch this sick ass trick.” Like a bat, he hung upside down, flipping the pocket knife open. He tore open Trevor’s shirt and, with a fresh blank canvas, gave a grin. There, he perfectly (in his incomprehensible handwriting) write three letters. D-I-E. He swung himself back up, passing her the knife. “Now, angel. We need to go before we get our asses busted.”

“You’re right…” She sighed softly. “But it was fun, helping out with the murder this time.”

“Damn right it was.” He hopped down first, holding his arms out to her. “C’mere, I’ll catch ya.”

“I know you will.” She let herself drop into his arms, noticing he caught her bridal style. “We do need to go, though.”

“Of course, of course.” Max grabbed the hatchet, swinging it over his shoulder. “Ready to get our asses out of here?”

“Obviously.”

Hand in hand, the two left, with Max only mildly covered in blood that time, awaiting for their latest masterpiece to be found.

Downstairs, in the seats, Ruth eventually sighed, pulling herself away from Richie. “Right. Five minutes til showtime. Let me go see where Trevor is.”

“Alright, good luck, superstar.” He said, smiling up at her as she stood.

“Why thank you, dweeb.” She gently kicked his leg in the affectionate sort of way, shuffling past him. From there, she walked up to her booth, half expecting it to be empty, to find that Trevor had snuck past her without her realising. That he’d already be backstage with PJ, altering his costume. When that door opened, though…

She slammed it shut, colour draining from her face as the vivid image of Trevor Coulson’s snapped neck hanging from a rope swayed in her mind. Heart beating hard, she very slowly walked down the steps, thoughts of her favourite dinosaur bag abandoned.

Richie looked over, and after noticing how pale she was, jumped up. “Ruth? Ruth, are you okay?”

She shook her head. “…can someone go get Miss Mulberry? I don’t-I don’t feel good-“

Her knees buckled. He caught her. A billion question ran through his mind, but he could only verbalise one of them. “…Reese?”

“Yeah?”

“…go get Mulberry.”

“On it.”

Richie helped Ruth sit down as Reese ran to get their teacher. He reached into his bag, pulling out a Hatsune Miku water bottle, offering it to her. “You look pale. Drink. It’s just water.”

She looked down. The shock of seeing Miku looking back at her was almost enough to break her from her clammy state. “Richie, what the fuck is your water bottle?”

“It’s Miku!”

“Oh my god, my boyfriend’s a dork.” Still, she popped the lid and took a sip.

“…can I ask if you’re okay?”

She rested her head against his chest. “Not at all. Not even in the-the slightest. It-it was like Doki Doki Literature Club in real life and-“

“Huh?” He asked her. “What do you mean-“

“Ruth?!” Miss Mulberry’s shrill voice cut Richie off. Flattening out her olive-green skirt, she rushed over to her favourite techie. “Ruth, Reese came and got me. She said you needed me? Is everything alright, dear?”

She shook her head, still sipping on Richie’s stupid Hatsune Miku water bottle. “I…I saw something and-“

Miss Mulberry took the seat next to Ruth, looking at her. “It’s alright. Take your time. What happened?”

“I went up to the tech booth and…” Tears flooded her eeys. “Miss Mulberry, Trevor…Trevor’s dead-“

“…stay there.” She said, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her waistcoat. She ran up the stairs, pushing open the door to the tech booth where Trevor Coulson was, hanging from the ceiling. She’d heard about the murders between Kyle, Brenda and Jason earlier on in the week, and now, she could only assume the murderer was striking again. Slamming the door shut, guarding it with her life, she loaded up her contacts, ringing the only person she knew who’d be able to help.

The phone rang thrice, and a tired voice answered on the other end of the line.

“Anna, baby, I’m at work.”

“I know, I know. B-but you always told me to call your personal phone in case of an emergency and-“

“Holy shit, your voice…are you shaking?”

“I…Leslie, there’s…”

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

Anna Mulberry nodded, though she knew her wife wouldn’t be able to see that. “Leslie, there’s been another murder. One of my students is-is hanging from the rafters and- he’s got his neck slit and-“

“Okay. Baby, stay right where you are. You’re sure the kid’s dead?”

“His neck is snapped!”

“Okay. And where’s the body?”

“In the tech booth-“

“Lock it. Me and Bailey are on our way, alright? Just stay put, I’ll be right there.”

“Alright…I love you, Leslie.”

“I love you too, babe.”

The phone hung up, and all Anna Mulberry could do before letting herself spiral was lock the door. She could remember walking back down the stairs and having to explain what had happened, but she couldn’t remember specifics. Not until there was a warm pair of arms wrapped around her and her head against her wife’s chest. Only then did she completely zone back in.

“Annie?” Leslie Shapiro asked. “Anna, you with me, babe?” Mulberry blinked, pulling back slightly, just for Shapiro to pull her back in. “Hey, hey! It’s okay! It’s just me!”

“Lez.”

“It’s just me,” she reassured. “We’re getting it sorted. Uh, Bailey, right now, is speaking with Ruth Fleming, Richie Lipschitz, Reese Shireman and Patricia Johnson-“

“They go by PJ now.”

“Shoot, sorry, my mistake, I didn’t know. So, Bailey’s interviewing the kids to try and get as much information out of them as possible and Webster and Reeves are dealing with the body. I did ask Bailey if he wanted me to help out with the interviewing and he said, Shapiro, go find your hot-as-shit wife and make sure she’s okay…also I’m pretty sure Bailey’s in with someone from Action News.”

“Oh, what the hell?” Anna asked, defeat to her voice. “Which one?”

“Uh…the fucking…the tall one? With the brunette hair?”

“Darlin’, that don’t help.”

“Ugh, fuck, he was wearing a brown leather jacket-?”

“Jerry?!” Anna pulled away then, folding her arms. “Is he incapable of leaving my kids alone?! He said he was here for The Barbecue Monologues press rehearsal which doesn’t even make sense because The Gazette doesn’t even document that kinda thing and also, what’s he doing in a confidential police interview anyway? Or something! I don’t know if my words came out right, I’m overwhelmed and mildly traumatised!”

“It’s okay, I understand what you were trying to say.” Leslie took her hand, getting Anna to untangle her arms. “And I’m pretty sure a Miss Holliday was asking after Ruth?”

“Yes, Ruth found the body…she’ll need counselling, the poor dear…and now we’re likely going to have to cancel the production of The Barbecue Monologues too! For goodness sake’s! First, we cancel The Big Game between Clivesdale and here-“

“Fuck Clivesdale.” Shapiro nodded firmly.

“-and now we’re gonna have to cancel The Barbecue Monologues! For goodness sake’s!”

Just next to Mulberry, though, the tiniest cough sounded. “Uh, excuse me, Miss Mulberry, but you might not have to cancel yet…”

Mulberry looked down to see none other than Reese standing there, script in her hands. “…Reese?”

Reese looked down, then looked back up. “Um, I know I understudy Caitlin’s roles but uh…I would really like a chance at doing whatever Trevor’s character was doing. If it’s okay with you? I feel like I really resonate with the character and…”

Sucking in a breath, Mulberry placed her hand on Reese’s shoulder. “Reese Shireman. You just saved the entire goddamn show. Do you think you’ll be able to learn those lines by the end of the week?”

“Miss Mulberry, it’s not a question of if I think more than if I know, which I absolutely do!”

“Then that’s it!”

Reese squealed. “My dad is gonna be so thrilled!”

Happily, she skipped off as Mulberry pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “Why did I do that so soon?! The kid has only just died and he’s already been replaced! But…but on the flip side…Sorry Trevor, may you rest in peace, but the show must go on…we gotta give these kids some sort of hope, right?”

Shapiro nodded. “And I think this is a rather good way to go about that.” Gently wrapping her arm back around her wife, she looked down. “Now, how about we go get you some fuckin’ coffee?”

“That sounds delightful…and then tonight, I’ll treat myself to some wine.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll just page Bailey to let him know where I’ll be so he, Webster and Reeves can come find me after. After all, we all know the Chicago-born bitch is the best member of the team.”

“I’m biased, I’m married to you.”

“And I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. Now, Anna Mulberry. To the staff room?”

“To the staff room. Let’s go get some fucking coffee.”

Chapter Text

Ruth was dismissed from the rest of rehearsal then, instead being sent directly to Miss Holliday’s office, not that she was complaining. The reason she was sent there she’d complain about. Finding dead bodies of her former classmates was not as fun as finding them in Danganronpa. Yes, she’d played Danganronpa. Yes, she’d played it with Richie because he asked her to. She wasn’t totally immune to her boyfriend’s anime antics (not that she wanted to be anyway)

Richie went with her, to Miss Holliday’s. She knocked gently, and soon enough, they were talking about their discoveries. They were actually significantly lucky enough that nobody else wanted to talk to her, or that she didn’t have any meetings scheduled because Ruth, quite literally, took up the rest of her day. It did start out with her talking about finding Trevor’s dead body and her giving information away, but then it closed into things more personal. Her and Richie, her and Pete, Pete and Steph…it all flowed.

There was an undeniable concern to the counsellor, though, and she seemed even more concerned when Ruth brought up the fact that Jerry Hachett had randomly been there while Officer Bailey had been trying to interview her. Ruth recognised the fact she was piecing missing parts of a puzzle together as time progressed. Little things either she or Richie would say would spark something in Miss Holliday’s eyes. It’d prompt Holliday to say something to the two teenagers, which would reveal more information.

Eventually, it got to the point where they’d been talking for the best part of two hours. Ruth couldn’t deny the fact that she felt a lot better after speaking her mind. She really did. This was a huge thing for her, to be able to speak so openly about her feelings, but she guessed that was Miss Holliday’s safe aura. Miss Holliday’s safety, and the reassurance that came from her boyfriend.

At the end of the day, Miss Holliday looked to the both of them, offering them smiles. “I suppose you two should be getting home.”

“Uh, probably not.” Richie said, pulling his phone out. “Me and Ruth usually go to a study session with Pete Spankoffski round this time. It’s been me and Ruth recently because he’s with Steph.”

“I think Pete said that Steph was gonna come join us for our next session in the library, though?”

That gained the attention of Miss Holliday all but immediately. “If you’re able to find Miss Lauter, would you mind sending her my way?”

“Uh, sure.” Richie nodded, sending a text. “Sorry, just texting Pete to see where he is or if study’s going on at all.”

“Do you think we’d be allowed to talk about this? About Trevor being dead?” Ruth picked at the skin around her thumb again. “I mean, it’ll get out eventually but I don’t wanna be disrespectful and…”

“I can only assume that Action News have already been informed via the HFPD, so I wouldn’t think it’d be wrong to talk about it, though I’d be mindful. It’s still an ongoing investigation. Have the HFPD said anything to you telling to explicitly say nothing about it?” Holliday asked her.

“No. But then again, that weird Abstinence Camp counsellor kept trying to intrude so the officer kept getting distracted-“

“But it isn’t a no though, right?”

“I guess not.”

Richie grabbed a hold of Ruth’s arm after receiving a message back from Pete. “They’re at Beanie’s, apparently.”

She looked up at him. “The shitty coffee shop? Are they studying there?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what he said.”

“Then that is where we’ll be studying.” Ruth stood up.  “Thanks Miss Holliday. I feel less nauseous over seeing a dead body now!”

“It’s my pleasure, Ruth. And remember. If you need anything, you can come straight to me. I will do my best to get any situation sorted out for you.”

“Okay, thanks.” Ruth looked at Richie, who had also stood up, and offered him her hand.

Together, they exited Hatchetfield High, their hands laced with one another. They approached Richie’s blue Toyota, and he drove them over to Beanie’s because apparently, Miss Mulberry and Detective Shapiro were not the only ones with coffee on their mind.

For whatever reason, like he had said in his and Richie’s private messages, Ruth and Richie did, in fact, find Peter Spankoffski sitting tucked away in the corner of Beanie’s with Stephanie Lauter at his side. For a study session, he was dressed rather smartly. Having known the guy since they were kids, they shouldn’t be surprised. He was the only person they knew who unironically wore suspenders and a bow tie to school so of course, even when he was dressing casually, he was dressing smart. He was wearing a white button up shirt like he usually did, but he was also wearing a blue and black argyle sweater vest over the top. His shirt was tucked into his jeans and he was wearing his typical brown converse to go with it. There was a thick, black coat draped over the back of the chair, and he seemed to be nursing a hot chocolate like he usually was. The main thing about Peter Spankoffski was his smile. Even though he shot them a smile when they walked in, it was tired and unhealthily emotionless. He wasn’t the same Peter Ruth and Richie knew at the start of the year. That Peter was overly delighted to be Stephanie Lauter’s boyfriend. He was overly delighted to find himself in a safe space with her. When the two of them looked at him in that moment, though, all they saw was shame in his eyes. Pete Spankoffski being ashamed of himself was unheard of.

This was unheard of.

Because, sitting directly next to him, was his girlfriend, Steph, also known as his favourite person in the entire world. Ruth and Richie heavily suspected that they were going through a rough patch but they hadn’t been able to gather any real evidence. They’d had a brief blip in homeroom not all that long ago but it hadn’t been severe. At least, they hadn’t thought it had been severe. By the way Steph was turned away from Pete instead of facing towards him worried them. They knew she cared about him, so why wasn’t she exhibiting that now?

She was sitting in all her fashionable glory. She was wearing leather leggings tucked into her platform docs, and she was wearing a jade green cardigan that covered up her Fleetwood mac t-shirt. She wore a golden ring on her hand, a sun, and she fiddled with her black choker. She also had a drink, but what it was she was drinking was something neither Ruth or Richie could decipher.

The only thing they could confirm with each other? The air was tense, and neither of them looked particularly happy to be there.

“Hey,” Ruth said, sliding into a seat next to Pete. “What drinks have you got?”

Pete tapped his fingers against the plastic of his cup. “Uh, hot chocolate…Steph got a mocha frappe.”

“Nice. Pete, what do they sell here?”

“Basically just cheaper versions of the Starbucks drinks.”

“Ah, cool.” Ruth looked to Richie. “Can you go get me a smoothie?”

“Obviously.” He gently kissed her cheek.

While he still could, Pete grabbed Richie’s wrist. “Oh, Richie, your Uncle Paul’s at the counter talking to that crabby barista.”

“Ah, cool…why did ya grab my sleeve, though?”

“I…” Pete looked down. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Be back in like, ten.” Richie said, making a swift exit away.

Ruth leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “…he’s so fucking sexy.”

“Yeah. We know, Ruth. You say it enough.”

“Anyway, why are we studying here and not at the library? We always study at the library so like, why the change? Not that I’m opposed to it! Me and Richie were just wondering!”

“My blood sugar levels were dropping. Steph said it’d be a good point to come and study here so I could at least get my sugar levels up and shit.”

“Oh! That was thoughtful, Steph.”

She finally moved, setting her phone down. “Yeah well, one of us has to be the smart one when it comes down to our physical health, don’t we?”

A twang of guilt was sent straight through Pete’s heart. “I…Steph, please don’t do that. It makes me feel guilty and-“

“And what?” She shrugged, letting her eyes flicker over to him. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s not like you ever care about yourself enough to not make smart decisions.”

“I…I can’t afford this at the moment.”

“Oh, but you could literally every other day?”

“Look, money’s tight right now and I don’t have a job so I can’t get an earning and-“

“I am rich, Peter! Why is it so hard for you to ask me for help?!”

He flinched. “I don’t find it hard to ask you for help, though! I-I just, when it comes down to money-Steph, you know it’s always been a topic I struggle to talk about! Not even with you, with other people as well! It isn’t my fault I struggle with that! I’ve been raised poor my entire life! It’s not easy for me to just ask for things!”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

The right side of her head began to go cloudy as another voice rang in her ears.

He’s lying to you, Stephanie.

“What are we studying?” Ruth asked, trying to divert the topic to something everyone could speak about openly.

“That’s a good question. We’re…we’re studying biology, I’m pretty sure, Ruth.”

“Ah! My expertise, Peter! Thank God! I needed something easy after today.”

“What happened today?”

She laughed nervously. “…I don’t know if I’m allowed to say. The HFPD weren’t really that stern about it but Miss Holliday said that it was probably okay and-“

“What the fuck were you doing talking to the HFPD?!”

Ruth looked over to Richie, who was busy ordering their drinks with the barista at the counter, who was definitely in a much better mood than usual. Knowing there was no way of getting a second opinion, she defeatedly exhaled. “…Trevor Coulson was murdered.”

“What?!”

“In-in the tech booth at school earlier on. He was…he was hanging from the ceiling, his neck was snapped and someone slit it…so he died. And I had to be the unlucky one to find his dead body, didn’t I?”

“Uh, weird question, Ruth…what exactly…am I allowed to know about…about the body or?”

“Freak.” She said, teasing. “Uh, sorry, if I don’t talk about it I’ll straight up fucking pass out so uh, glad you asked and all but uh…it wasn’t really anything special apart from the fact that he had the word ‘die’ carved into his chest with what appeared to be a box cutter, so I heard the HFPD say and-“

“A blade.” Steph said. “Like with Kyle, Brenda and Jason.”

Ruth nodded. “Uh, y-yeah. But there weren’t any cameras in the booth and there wasn’t any evidence so we can’t know for sure until the coroner report comes back in and-“

“He had ‘die’ written in his chest, carved with a blade.” She said it simply, like she already knew the answer.

Ruth, on the other hand, did not know what Steph was referring to, nor did she completely understand what kind of answer she was looking for “…yeah?” She asked, completely lost. “I’m sorry, how is that relevant? Like, I don’t get what you are trying to say-”

“Because that word would be the missing piece to the sentence that was half finished in the locker rooms.” She paused, gripping her hair. “Nerdy Prudes Must Die. Max Jagerman’s last words.”

A sharp pain ran through her head, but she hid it, with only an ounce of a wince on her face.

Oh, Stephie! You are a smart one, aren’t you?!

“Oh, god fucking damn it. You are joking.” She said, breathless from the pain. To Pete and Ruth, it’d look like she was following off from her previous point, but she and the deity inside her head both knew she was talking to him instead.

Joking? Why would I joke about something like this. I have never been more serious. You’re on to him like we’re on to you.

“It’s impossible! All of this is impossible!”

Hesitantly, Peter reached out to her. “Steph, take a breath. It’s gonna be okay. Max can’t hurt us, he’s d-dead-“

“Oh, shut up, Pete!” She slapped his hand away, running a hand through her thick, brown hair. “Me and you both know that he isn’t! Stop fucking lying to yourself! Max isn’t dead!”

Panic overtaking any logical reasoning, he laughed nervously. “What-what do you mean Max isn’t dead, Steph? Of course he is!”

“Stop pretending like you don’t know. We both know he isn’t dead. We both saw him in homeroom. Max Jagerman didn’t die.”

Knowing there’d be no winning, he leaned closer to her. Voice still low and level, he told her firmly, “we can’t do this here, Steph. Not in front of Ruth and not in the middle of a coffee store so please, keep your voice down!”

Please don’t. I would love to see this.

Shutting her eyes from the sharp pain in her head, she burst. “No, Peter! I’m fucking sick of this! I’m fucking sick of being stuck here, of being tormented by a mistake I made and now other people are dying because of it! Because I am so fucking stupid!”

“But you’re not, Steph.” He tried to take her hand. “Steph, you’re not-“

“No, okay, maybe I’m not but I’m still the one who casually sold my soul over to the devil to get an apocalypse under control!”

And it is working within my favour.

Ruth, as someone merely on the sidelines, could only blink as she processed what Steph was saying. “…what?”

“Steph, please not here-“

“Or where, Peter?! When is there going to be a good time to do this? To have this conversation?!”

“Not in public! And not in front of Ruth, either!”

“Oh, fuck off. Everything we’ve ever done has been in public. All our key milestones have been in public. You don’t get privacy when you are with me.”

“But we can at least try-“

She cut him off, moving the conversation forward. “Max Jagerman, on his deathbed, said the phrase, ‘nerdy prudes must die.’ You were there, Peter. You heard him say it. The only person who would know those words is him.”

And me, but don’t mind me, Stephanie.

“You heard what Holliday said! He’s back, and he’s making everyone’s life hell! He killed the football team and now he’s starting on people closely linked to us. Trevor had direct access to Ruth! Peter, he died in the lighting booth and Ruth, don’t you run lights for The Barbecue Monologues?”

“Uh, yeah, but I’m still very confused and I don’t see how that’s important-“

“What if he was waiting in there for Ruth? So he could kill her?!” She could’ve sworn a cold chill breezed its way through the store. It had her pulling her cardigan tighter around her body. “Think about it. It’d only make sense, wouldn’t it? Why would Max Jagerman want to kill Trevor Coulson?”

“He…he wouldn’t,” Pete admitted, though there was the faintest shake to his voice.

“What?! Kill Ruth, because I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t!”

“He wouldn’t hate Ruth that much to kill her!”

“Who says?!” She gripped her arm tightly. “He was there to try and kill Ruth, then he’d go for Richie, and then he’d go for us.” She looked him in the eye. “Nerdy prudes must die? Peter, he’s on about us. About me and you. If…if we don’t stop this, then we’re gonna die...If I don’t stop this, then we will die…”

She was right, and he knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Overly stressed out, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Jesus, Steph! Please, keep it together!”

“Keep it together!?” The hint of a green swirl sparked in the middle of her deep brown eyes. “There is a murderer on the loose, most likely Max from beyond the grave if what Holliday implied is true, and we can’t go to anyone for help because this isn’t a human matter. This is the essence of the supernatural and if Max is behind it, then I am the root of the issue!”

We’ve known that for several dimensions now, Stephanie. Get a grip on yourself.

“No you’re not! Steph, you’re not the problem.” He tried to move closer to her. She moved away. “We’re in this together! This isn’t your fault!”

At that moment, Richie walked back over, setting a smoothie down in front of Ruth. “Uh what’s going on?”

“Richie, you shoulda saved yourself and stayed with your uncle.” Ruth said, immediately beginning to sip on her drink.

He awkwardly sat down on the chair beside Ruth, looking between Pete and Steph. He quickly got what she was getting at. Steph practically had stream coming out of her ears, and there was a watery glaze coating Pete’s eyes. “Oh no.”

Completely ignoring Richie’s presence, Steph went back in for the kill. “If this isn’t my fault, can you please explain to me why Max Jagerman’s final words, the same Max Jagerman who suddenly died at the hands of my father because of a mistake I made, are painted on the walls of the boys’ locker room and carved into the chest of Trevor Coulson?!”

“I can’t explain it, no!”

“Exactly!”

“But-but us doing this in public won’t help! None of this is going to help!”

“Because I am the only one who can help this! It has to be me to make things right!”

“No it doesn’t-“

“Oh, this is easy for you to say. You didn’t sell your fucking soul to the devil, did you?!”

Richie blinked. “I’m sorry, what is going on?”

“I told you, weeb, you shoulda stayed with your uncle.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that though, Steph! You made that choice, nobody forced you to do it-”

“Oh, so you’re saying that it is my fault?”

“N-No!”

“And anyway! How are we sure it’s my fault that we wound up in this situation? I’m pretty sure the thing that set all of this off was that very first timeline. Wasn’t it?!”

“Steph-“

“Maybe if you had gone to Beanie’s as the timeline originally stated, maybe if you had gotten a stupid fucking hot chocolate from Beanie’s on your sixteenth birthday instead of going to Starbucks then maybe we wouldn’t be doing this! Because maybe, if you followed the rules of time instead of doing your own fucking thing, none of us would be trapped in this hellscape! Would we?!”

“Don’t spin this back on me! How was I suppose to know this was gonna happen!? I didn’t even know what a Lord In Black was! I didn’t know-“

“And because you didn’t know, I had to sell my soul to the goddamn devil!”

Technically, you didn’t. You still have your soul. I just puppeteer your mind, on the odd occasion.

“Peter, this whole thing started because you went to Starbucks back in 2018. This is not my fault. I did what I had to in order to save the world from Wiggly’s wrath.”

“Who?!” Richie asked.

“Richie, shut up!” Steph said, standing up. “And I ended up being your dumb fucking science partner meaning I had to go to Hatchetfield High on a Saturday, meaning I had to hide in the fucking cupboard where you still saved me. If we hadn’t gotten partnered up, I wouldn’t have had to go into school for an additional day. If we hadn’t got partnered up, maybe I’d have got off the island with my dad! Maybe we’d have escaped, and none of this would be happening!”

“And I didn’t choose this life-“

“And now I’m standing here reflecting on the past three years, the past three dimensions and do you know what I wish?!” She looked back down to him. “I wish that Bunsen burner I hit you over the head with would’ve fucking killed you. It would have saved us all a whole ordeal.”

He gripped his cup tighter, beginning to shake more prominently. “I didn’t ask to be a hero! I didn’t ask to be the main character of that stupid fucking story! All I wanted was to make sure you were safe! All I want now is to make sure you are safe-!”

“And I’m not because Max is back from the fucking dead and if he finds you, if he targets you next, I don’t know what’ll become of me! I don’t know what will become of anyone!” She slipped into her own coat. “So I need to make a quick trip to The Witchwoods, I need a shovel, and I need to fix this shit myself.”

Peter quickly scrambled to stand up, reaching for his coat. “No. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you, Steph. Sorry, Ruth. Sorry, Richie, but studying can wait, this can’t-“

“Stop trying to play hero, Peter. I’m not letting you come with me. You can stay and study. I have to save the world.”

“Who says you have to?!”

Me. I do.

She flinched, digging her fingernails into her scalp. “It doesn’t matter who’s telling me.”

“It’s him. Isn’t it? It’s Wiggly.”

“Again, who’s Wiggly-“

“Shut up, Richie!” Both Pete and Steph shouted, drawing more eyes to them.

Richie shrank back down, letting Ruth take his hand. “…sorry.”

Steph looked at him. “So what? So what if it is Wiggly telling me I have to do that?”

“What’s he telling you to do?” He asked, determined not to let this fail him. “Steph, you don’t have to do the shit he tells you and you know it-“

“Stop playing hero!” She snapped. “He is in my head! I don’t know what you want me to say! You may be attached to Pokotho, but Wiggog Y’Wrath is in my fucking head! I don’t get a choice in what I do or what I don’t. To get him to stop, to get everything to stop, though, means I need to take a quick trip to the woods-“

“Let me come with you, then! Let me at least make sure you’re safe!”

“Oh, so what?! You get to take the reigns again?! May I please remind you that the first and only time you did that, the world succumbed to a musical pandemic caused by your brother! You are no hero!”

“I know that!”

“No, you don’t know that because you keep trying to enforce yourself into situations that don’t need you! You do not know anything about what I am about to do and I’d prefer it stay like that, so don’t fucking follow me-“

“Follow you?!” He looked at her, jaw dropping. “Fine, okay, fuck it, we’re doing this then!”

“I suppose we are!”

“You’re the one who kept coming back to me! It was you who ended up with at my workplace on Black Friday!”

“And it was you who let the world go to shit! And I did not follow you! You followed me, because who am I kidding?! Why wouldn’t Peter Spankoffski kill to go out with me?! And yet I still had to fight to get to this stage because the guy at the Beanie’s counter has more balls than you!”

Richie stood then. “Hey! Don’t bring my uncle into this!”

Ruth grabbed his hand, tugging him back down. “Don’t intervene. There’s no point-“

“And who said I wanted to date you back then anyway?!” Pete said, voice only just below a shout. “Or did you imagine that?!”

“So when we were sitting out on Jenny Kilgore’s front yard in the first dimension and we shared what we got at the store. That meant nothing to you, did it?!”

“Of course it did!”

“It certainly doesn’t fucking feel that way!”

“Steph, why wouldn’t it mean something to me!? That was one of the first times I got to speak to you openly about shit! It was the beginning of everything! It meant so much to me, why are you saying that it didn’t!”

Because you’re right. He’s too coward to date you. You don’t need him.

“And it was your fucking fault I ended up in that fucking Bunsen burner cupboard anyway!”

“And I never wanted that to happen to you!” He said, looking at her, truly beginning to panic now. “Sure, I forgot that we had the study session but it was my birthday and I-I did feel bad about it when I realised! But I was more concerned about bigger things, like the world going insane?! And I still came to rescue you! Once I remembered, I made quick on my decision to go and get you with my brother and he didn’t have to do that for me! I didn’t have to do that for you and I still did because I always fucking cared about you and-“

“No, Peter! No you didn’t!”

“Don’t tell me about how I feel! I would know if I cared about you and I always have!” He exhaled shakily. “I have liked you romantically for so long that it physically hurts me to think about it. The fact that you’re my girlfriend now still fucks with my head sometimes because I’m just a nerd. I don’t deserve to be dating someone like you, this shit never happens to me and it did. It happened. And-and I’ve cared for you for so long and I-“

“So do you love me?”

The entire store fell silent. No one dared move. Peter blinked, looking at her. “Steph, please. I don’t wanna do it here-“

“What? You’re scared I’m gonna walk out on you or something?”

“Yes! I-I’m terrified to lose you and-“

She looked him up and down. “How long have we been doing this song and dance, Pete? For like…five years?”

“…it feels that way.”

“And we’ve been together nearly a year. Right?”

“Y-Yeah-“

“And we still have experience from the other dimensions, don’t we, Peter!?”

“Yes, we do!”

“Then don’t you think that if I loved you, I’d have told you by now?”

If Pete’s heart breaking could format itself in audio, it’d be heard as the twinkling of shattering glass as his body was thrown against a window pane. “…what?”

“How long have we been doing this for? Traversing dimensions and shit?”

“I just said-“

“Don’t answer that, it’s rhetorical.” She folded her arms. “Do you think that if I loved you that I would’ve told you by now?”

He couldn’t help the tears that flooded to his eyes. “Steph, please not in front of Ruth and Richie-“

Again, she snapped. “Do you think I fucking care, Peter?! Do you?!”

“I-I hoped-“

“I care about saving the world while I still can! It’s why I made that stupid fucking deal in the first place but no, you’re the problem again because you had to go and collapse the boundaries of space and time to get me here! To right now! And right now, we’re fighting in the middle of a fucking coffee shop and-“

“I was trying to save you!”

“From what?! An eldritch god who’s still in my head because if that’s your plan, then you failed!”

“Wiggly would’ve killed you!”

Do you see what I mean? I would never harm one of my own. The assumptions he makes are insufferable. Sort him out, Stephanie. I know you can.

“Would he, though?!”

“Yes!”

“Where’s your evidence!?”

“He killed everyone else! He’d have killed you too-“

“But would he?!”

“I-I don’t know-“

“Because how would you know I’d have died!? I coulda lived in that other dimension and I coulda been fine!”

“You killed my brother!”

No you didn’t. I killed Theodore Spankoffski and Jennifer Wilkinson, not you. He’s foolish enough to be unable to decipher the differences between myself and you, his girlfriend. What does that say about him, Stephie?

“Do you know me at all!?” She burst.

“Of course I do!”

“So why do you think I would kill your brother?!”

“Because you did, I watched you do it! I watched you kill them both!”

“No. No, that was him who did it. Not me.”

“But-“

“And that is what I mean by the fact that I need to fix things! He controls me! I do not have a choice what I do anymore! It’s up to him!” She stepped forward, grabbing her bag. “And that is why I need to go to The Witchwoods and make a quick little stop at The Summoning Tree.”

“At the what?!”

Uh oh, Stephie-Wephie! It appears you forgot to tell your boyfriend some very important information!

“Can we not do this now?!” She shouted, both at Wiggly and Pete.

“No, Steph! What’s The Summoning Tree?! What are you planning on doing?! Huh?!”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s something only I can fix!”

“Why!? Why are you pushing me away when all I want is to help you?! Why are you hiding things from me-“

“Because I’d rather kill myself than let you near The Black Book!”

Nibbly would love a feast like that. Let’s see you try.

Pete went pale. “…what…what’s The Black Book?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, Steph, because I think it does. That’s the second time I’ve heard some sort of book mentioned. First with the counsellor and now you, and everything in regards to The Witchwood?!”

“Peter, don’t.”

Then, all of a sudden, he was taken back to Abstinence Camp. When he and Steph had been in front of that tree, the tree that gave off a looming aura. There’d been some sort of chalk drawings on it. He could’ve sworn there were strange markings, but he’d been too focused on Jeri Woods’ dead body to really figure things out. When they’d walked away, she’d been in a worse mood than she had been before they’d been chased through the woods. The Summoning Tree. It all made sense. “So you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, you’re the smartest guy I know which is know you’ll let me do this alone-“

“Girl Jeri. She died in front of The Summoning Tree, didn’t she?”

He’d caught her out. All she could hear was Wiggly’s laugh, and all she saw for a brief second was green. “…yes, she did.”

“And let me guess. The Black Book is buried beneath The Summoning Tree.”

He’s on to you, Stephanie. Better think fast!

“I don’t know if it is or if it isn’t in this dimension because you won’t let me go and check!”

“WE WERE RIGHT THERE, STEPH!”

“I KNOW THAT! DON’T YOU THINK I DIDN’T KNOW THAT?!”

“CLEARLY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO FUCKING THINK ABOUT YOU ANYMORE!” He felt a tear fall down his face. “BECAUSE MAYBE I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO THINK THAT A COOL AND POPULAR GIRL LIKE YOU WOULD LOVE SOMEONE LIKE ME.”

“OH REALLY?!”

“YES, REALLY!”

“DON’T FUCKING START ON ME LIKE THIS!”

“YOU STARTED ALL OF THIS! THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT!” His breath caught in the back of his throat. “YOU’RE PUSHING ME AWAY AGAIN! DON’T THINK I HAVEN’T NOTICED!”

“I’M DOING IT FOR YOUR SAKE! I CAN’T LET YOU GET HURT!”

“YOU’RE HURTING ME NOW!” He shouted at her, letting the rest of the world disappear. She didn’t say anything, but stared at him in shock. “I HAVE DONE MY BEST TO LOVE YOU, TO PROTECT YOU FROM THIS ALL-POWERFUL THING IN YOUR HEAD, I’VE DONE MY BEST AND I’M NEVER ENOUGH FOR YOU AND I AM SO…so tired…” He slumped back down in his chair. “I am so tired of being the only one putting the effort in. You don’t love me. That’s fine. I half suspected it anyway. Because I’m just a Spankoffski, and you are everything to me but if you wanna go play hero, then go, but know first hand that it’s not all it’s chalked out to be. It hurts more than you’ll ever know, but you wanna go do this alone? Then go. But don’t come back to me saying that I haven’t offered.”

“Don’t do this-“

“Don’t backtrack. You’ve made up your mind.” He looked at her, tears now falling down his face. “If I loved you like I’m capable of, loved you like you should be loved, then I…I’d have to let you go. So go. Play hero or whatever you wanna do to make you feel better but I have been here since the beginning and I’m not the one walking out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pete, come on-“

“I think you’d better go.” Ruth Fleming cut in sharply. “So go. I don’t understand any of what just happened but if you’re walking out then go.”

What do you choose, Stephie? The Summoning Tree, or your boyfriend?

Steph looked at him. “Pete, this is for the best-“

“Is it?” He put his head in his hands. “This is not for the best, but you’re too scared to let me in. So I-I’m done. Go.”

“I’m doing this for us! I’m doing this to fix things-!”

“And that includes hurting Pete?” Richie piped up too. “Just fucking get out. The fact you’re standing there trying to fix things after you said all of that to him?”

“You two wouldn’t understand so don’t you try getting involved either-!”

“Steph, I’m done with fighting!” Pete cut in again. “Go. Go to the fucking tree or whatever, I don’t care. I’m done!”

She looked at him, resisting a snarl. “Fine, but this is for the best. Just you wait, Peter. Just you wait.”

The door slammed behind her as she left causing Pete to all but slump over, head on the table. He only moved to take his glasses off.

Richie moved his eyes from the door to the other cup on the table. “Is that Steph’s drink?”

“Yeah, she left it.” Ruth said, her voice as soft as she could get it to be.

“Pass it here, I love a mocha frappe.”

Ruth slid it across the table. “…why am I only just now learning this about you?”

He shrugged. “Don’t matter. What does matter is…” He looked down at him. “…Pete?”

“What the hell did I just do?”

“…I won’t even ask if you’re okay because you’re not.”

Ruth turned her chair to face him. “But is there…is there anything we can do? Like, at all?”

“I just had a fight in the middle of a coffee shop because Steph…she’s been…keeping things from me…” He lifted his head up, hair sticking to his face, face red and blotchy. “Oh, god, what have I done?”

“There’s like, three other people here apart from me and Ruth. There’s my uncle Paul and Emma and that guy who’s always in a hurry. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“That’s not your fault.” Ruth reassured. “You were making so many good points.”

“But I hurt her-“

“No.” Ruth took his hand. “Peter, it’s her own fault if she got hurt by her own reasoning. I’m sorry, but it’s true! And…and I still don’t know what half of it was about and-“

Pete looked at them. “I just wanna go back to my apartment. I’m embarrassed, and I feel awful, and now I’m crying in the middle of a coffee store and-“

“And if you don’t mind choking on Ruth’s perfume and my overly active sweat glands, we could give you a hug?”

He wiped his eyes, looking at Richie. “…okay…”

They all but tackled him, going up against one another to see who could hug Pete tighter. “And if you want a lift home, I got my car.”

“…that’d be nice, actually.”

“Okay. I’m gonna take me and my two drinks and…let’s just get you outta here.”

“Yeah.” Ruth pulled away first. “Richie, you need more deodorant.”

“Yeah, I know! And I’ve got it in the fucking car but there are bigger things at hand right now!”

“Don’t you two start fighting either…” Pete stood, grabbing his things.

“No, we won’t. Promise.” Richie grabbed both of his drinks, looking at his Uncle. “Bye, Uncle Paul! See you at home!” With that, he escorted Pete out of Beanie’s, Ruth chasing after them.

“Pete! You forgot your glasses!”

“Shit!” He slid into the backseat of Richie’s car, buckling in. She passed them back to him and he put them on. “Thanks, Ruth. Where would I be without you?”

“Hell, probably.” She hopped in the front, buckling in. “Richie, deodorant.”

“Oh. My. God. Give me two seconds.” He sighed, taking it from his bag. “Anyway, Pete. What the fuck was half of that about?”

“Yeah. What’s a Wiggly?”

As Richie reapplied his lynx, Pete sniffled. “I guess I owe you both an explanation, don’t I?”

“It might help us understand this shit a bit better.” He put his deodorant back in his bag, heading into the driver’s seat. After he buckled in, he set off.

Pete wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Right, um…it’s gonna sound insane. But it’s all real.”

“Right. Okay. Just talk. We’re your friends. Legally, we have to believe you.”

He nodded. “Are you gonna interrupt me or is this where I just talk at you and…?”

Ruth answered first. “This is an instance where it sounds like you should just talk, we listen, then talk.”

“Uh…okay…thank you.”

“No problem.”

He took a breath. Where the hell did he start when he only had about twenty minutes to cover everything? At the beginning, he supposed. “So it’s…it’s my birthday. In 2018. My 16^th birthday and Ted gives me a bit more cash and he says, get yourself something nice from Starbucks. So I do. And I’m walking to go back home because it’s a Saturday, and I get pulled in an alley. A-as it turned out, Beanie’s had been overrun with something…not human. And then we end up in Henry Hidgens’ weird fortress mansion thing and I realise, shit, Steph. So me and Ted, we leave and then we rescue her and-basically, the Starlight Theatre got hit by a meteor from outer space and turned everyone into musical singing zombies. Uh, long story short, we get rescued and we get in a helicopter crash-it’s how Steph got the scar on her hip, she got impaled by a pole or something, it’s fuzzy now. And uh, I got told I had to blow up the hivemind, which’d be found in the meteor…so I did. Hence the scar on my wrist. And we’re in Clivesdale-“

“Fuck Clivesdale,” the car chanted.

“-and Ted made it out. Me, Ted and Steph made it out and we get picked up by Ted’s college girlfriend? I don’t know…and uh…turns out, Ted was already infected when we got to Clivesdale. He and the other woman hooked up. She was infected. She took Steph to the mainland and infected Steph, infecting the mainland in the process. Then they came back and uh…they snapped my neck.”

“Yikes,” Ruth said in a sharp whisper.

“The next thing I knew I was waking up on the Black Friday of 2019, like it had all felt like a really bad dream. It turned out I had a shift at The Cineplex so I was like, shit, gotta get ready for that. Me and Steph were talking, and she was flirting with me and I made a really bad typo and she wouldn’t stop…she and Max went on a date to The Cineplex while basically the entire island queued for the hottest toy of that year. The Tickle Me Wiggly. Uh, it actually turned out to be an eldritch god who caused riots?”

“What the fuck?!”

“Richie!” She hit his wrist. “He said to speak then talk!”

“Right. Sorry, Pete.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t believe it either…but then Steph made a deal. Wiggly’s in her head and…and I pushed her through the boundaries of our second timeline to here. So we’re not originally from this timeline…and neither is Max.” He waited for them to say something. They didn’t. “During the riots in the last dimension, Solomon Lauter murdered Max. He was shot through the head, fell over the balcony and according to Steph, he got impaled on the swan fountain. One thing led to another and…and one of Wiggly’s brothers - yes there are more than one, we don’t know either - took a hold of him, making him his servant…and Max is the one killing everyone.”

“…like a ghost?” She asked.

“Worse…and then me and Steph go to camp and we almost get murdered and we’re almost certain it was Max who tried to kill us and…and now we might have just…”

Richie clicked his neck. “I kick her ass.”

“No, Richie, don’t. She’s got enough going on as it is-“

“Stop making excuses for her.” He said, looking at Pete in the mirror. “When me and Ruth were studying at the library the other day, when you went to Pasqualli’s, I thought you deliberately stood us up but you didn’t. You’ve been going through a lot, and I’m sorry I thought you’d ever abandon us.”

“I-I would never!”

“And Steph’s an idiot to think you don’t love her. We know you do. You’ve done so much for her. When is she gonna start doing shit for you?”

No one knew what to say to that, so for the rest of the journey, nobody said anything. The car journey came to an end when Richie parked his car outside Pete’s apartment complex. “Thanks for the ride, Richie.”

“What good is my driver’s license for if not to be a taxi?” He looked back at Pete. “…just message us, okay?”

“We want to know you haven’t killed yourself!”

“I’m not gonna kill myself, don’t worry…I’ll message you. Now I just gotta hope my brother’s not in. I don’t wanna hear him say anything.”

“Naruto run to your bedroom. Super speed.”

“Richie, babe. Not helping.”

“No, I might try it.” Pete exhaled. “Thanks again. Seriously.” He swung his bag on his back and headed up the three flights of stairs to the apartment he called home. He unlocked it, stepped inside and began to settle down. When he placed his coat on the peg, though, he became aware of a burning pair of eyes searing into the back of his neck.

There stood Ted Spankoffski, leaning against the wall, eyebrow raised. “Where the hell have you been?”

“It don’t matter-“

“No, no. I think it does matter.” He folded his arms. “Why did I receive a text off of Paul half an hour ago telling me to go easy on you? I mean, that dickhead doesn’t message me ever, not even to reply to my texts, so where the fuck have you been?”

Pete stared at the wall in front of him, suddenly feeling very exposed. With his coat hung up, his drink on the small table by the door and his bag down by his feet, he had nothing to cling on to but himself. Childish. He could only imagine how childish he looked. He wanted to argue back, he wanted to be as strong as he had been twenty minutes ago but he knew he didn’t have it in him. He had no energy left to fight. He’d already lost Steph, he didn’t want to lose Ted too. So, there, hugging himself, he found tears flooding his eyes again. He thought he was done with crying. As it turns out, he’d never be done with anything.

“…Ted?”

“Yeah, what?”

“…I think me and Steph broke up.”

There, at the front door, he collapsed back into tears. Quietly, but uncontrollably, he cried. Had it not been for him focusing on his breathing, to make sure that Ted didn’t hear his stuttered sobs, he might’ve heard the pair of leather shoes walking across the wooden floor, joining him. Before he knew it, there were a pair of strong, comforting arms around him, and he was being pulled into the scent of lynx Africa. The scent of pine, coconut and lynx Africa. Sure, it was overpowering, made his already tearful eyes water more and didn’t smell the best, but it didn’t matter. It was home. In his brother’s arms, he was home.

Then he sobbed. A gut wrenching sob buried into the olive-coloured material of Ted’s work shirt. A gut wrenching sob followed by his older brother’s hand tangling in his hair. He waited for some snarky remark to come. Something along the lines of eh, it’d happen eventually.

It never came.

What did come, though, was sitting on the couch, hot chocolate in hand, Ted sitting directly next to him, listening to what he’d told Ruth and Richie in the car. He didn’t even want to see the level of hesitancy in Ted’s eyes. He didn’t want Ted to believe he was lying because he wasn’t, he wasn’t a liar.

Once he was done, Ted spoke. “I’d say you dreamt it all, but that’s all a little too crazy to just dream up.” He clasped his hands in his lap. “And you know what I say to all of that?”

Pete shook his head.

“That you coulda fell through the boundaries of any dimension, any in the world and you ended up here. I’m pretty fucking glad you did. I’m glad, that in this dimension, the version of Peter Spankoffski I know is my little brother. But do you know what I’m not glad about?”

Pete shook his head again.

“Stephanie Lauter saying that shit to your face. Putting you on the spot to say “I love you” for the sake of her winning an argument. It’s not on.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, or what I’m doing wrong-“

“You’re doing nothing wrong. You’ve done nothing wrong. The fact that she can’t recognise that, the fact she dare even question if you love her or not is fucking ridiculous. She’s ridiculous. And what? She just stormed off?”

“Ruth and Richie basically told her to fuck off because she wanted to go play hero and I…yeah, I said it too.”

“Alright, well, listen, Petey. If she goes and does something astronomically stupid, her actions are not your fault. She chose to walk out. She chose to start that fight. She chose to push you away. Her consequences are hers to deal with only. I know you love her and I know the first instinct is gonna be to try and help her but there are some things that can’t be helped.” He shifted, turning to face Pete completely. “And neither of you two explicitly said you were over?”

“No but I said if she was walking out on me then she should…yeah…then she walked out.”

“So, when you’re ready, message her. Then, she’s either gonna give you one hell of an apology and you’ll be okay, or maybe you won’t be! Maybe you won’t forgive her, and that’s okay too! Either you’re gonna be okay, or you’re gonna get it written down you’re done. It’ll hurt, and I can see it’s hurting you now because heartbreak sucks. Listen, though. You’re not alone. Losing her isn’t the end. It may feel like it, but it isn’t the end.”

“…I just wish she’d let me help her. It’s always been me and her and she’s suddenly deciding she can do this on her own. No she can’t. She’s got a deity in her head that controls her and the last time he took over, she murdered you! Teddy, I can’t lose you again, I can’t do it!”

“Hey, hey. Listen, kid, listen. I’m going nowhere. Ever. I’m staying right here. I’m not ever fucking leaving you.”

“I can’t lose you again!”

As Pete dissolved back into tears, Ted pulled him back against his chest. “Look. I’ve been an absolutely awful influence for your first 18 years of life. It ends now. You’re right, I shoulda moved on from…her…years ago. I’m putting in the effort because you need me. You’re the only one to need me, but that’s one person more than I’d have ever thought. The one thing I cannot do is let my little brother suffer alone. I can’t. So I’m staying. I’m right here.”

Wiping his eyes again, Pete helplessly looked up at Ted. “Are things gonna get better?”

He looked down, nodding gently. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not for an entire year, but things are gonna ease up. You’re gonna feel peace, and it’s gonna get easier. It feels hard right now, but that’s in the moment. Peter, I promise you, it’s difficult right now but you’re gonna jump that hurdle when you feel you can. You’re so strong. It’s hard right now, but it’ll get better eventually. You’ll smile again, you’ll feel peace…you’re gonna be okay.”

“And you promise you’re not going?”

“I mean, the only place I’d ever consider leaving to is my therapist’s office so-“

“What?” He choked out.

He shrugged. “You were…I needed to change. You weren’t happy, when I was in hospital and you were right. I needed to change. It means you’re gonna get like two things for your birthday and maybe even less for Christmas but-“

Pete tackled him in a hug then, burying his face in Ted’s neck. “T-thank you.”

Ted readjusted his grip, running his hand through Pete’s hair. “I’m stepping up too late, which is pissing me off because you needed me more than I needed her and…whatever happens with you and Steph, whether it turns out okay or not, you’ve got me to fall back on. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“And I know you wanna stop talking about her-“

“I really do.”

“-but I think they’re showing Revenge Of The Sith tonight. How about we get a Chinese and settle?”

Pete nodded looking up at him. “…I’d like that.”

“It can still be a good night if we make it one, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Exactly.” Ted gently flicked the back of Pete’s head, a sign of affection. “But for now, we can stay like this. I don’t mind.”

Cuddling into Ted, the only sense of security he currently had, he gave a final nod. Before long, Pete had settled back into the real world, back into that current scene. Ted was watching some British baking show on Netflix, he was pretty sure, and Ted whistled whenever one of the judges came on screen. Hollywood, his surname was, or something like that. Pete didn’t know, but he knew Ted liked shows like that, so it was fine. Pete, however, had a final question on his mind.

For the final time that night, Pete unlocked his phone. As promised, he texted Ruth and Richie, telling them he was fine, with Ted, and turning his phone off for the rest of the night. Stephanie Lauter, however, received a very different text. He did his best to ignore their previous chats. They’d been so happy two weeks ago. Why did so much have to change?

Pushing forward, he sent her one very strongly worded message.

You probably won’t see this. Not until it’s too late.

You’re probably off saving the world like you said you would

and I’m still upset you wouldn’t include me. I wanted to

let you know I’m turning my phone off for the rest of the night. I

need the space and I need the time with my brother. Whatever you’re

doing, I hope it goes well. All I ask is that either we talk

in person or on the phone or something because I don’t know

what we are. I don’t know if you’re still my girlfriend or not. I don’t

know what I’m supposed to do or what I’m supposed to feel.

Just know I don’t appreciate you putting me on the

spot like that. If you loved me, you’d already know my answer.

I hope you’re doing good wherever you are. Keep yourself safe.

Along the outskirts of Hatchetfield’s notoriously cursed Witchwoods sat a still black jeep. The trunk to said car was wide open with no owner in sight. No owner, unless one dared to venture just beyond the treeline. There, not too far away from safety, was Stephanie Lauter, kneeling mercifully before The Summoning Tree. A shovel lay propped up against the bark. She’d put it there when she first arrived. She knew time was running out, that this was a dangerous mission to embark on, but right now, she needed the peace. She needed the communication. Yes, she knew she needed to get a move on, for the fucking sake of Hatchetfield she needed to get a move on, but right now, she’d pray. Still, not even her prayers could keep the pestering voice in her mind at bay.

You really did put the Wrath in Wiggog Y’Wrath today, Stephie.

“Shut up.”

I’d say I’m almost proud to call you my prophet, but I am not, unfortunately. We still have a while to go.

“Shut up!”

Watch out, Stephie! Keep thinking like that and I’ll migraine you!

She grunted, grabbing the shovel. Weak. At the despair of The Summoning Tree, she felt weak. She’d have to dig kneeling down. She’d make it work, somehow.

As much as I despise phones, you have a message. Don’t you think you should check it?

“You hate phones. I’m not doing shit.”

Wiggly giggled in her mind.

Okay then, bitch.

“Don’t say that.”

It’s a precaution for who you’re about to meet! Now dig!

She did, her arms burning at the speed she was going. She flung soil behind her with every attempt to dig deeper into dirt. Once, twice, thrice, then four times, five times, six and then on the seventh attempt, she felt the shovel hit the familiar feel of fabric. She had a rotten sense of déjà vu to her. It didn’t shock her, though. This was just like how it had been for her in the second dimension.

Her story started in The Witchwood, and now, it was going to end there. If she could get this book back to Holloway, things could work themselves out and she wouldn’t need to do anything. If she could figure out which ritual was needed to detach herself from Wiggog Y’Wrath then things would work out. She’d be safe, Pete would be safe and Max would finally get to rest in peace. Good. He may have been a dick, but the motherfucker deserved to rest after everything he’d been through while alive.

Eagerly, with an end finally in sight, Steph retrieved The Black Book from the fabric it was bound in. She tugged it out from the dirt, all but relieved it was still there in the exact same place as it had been the first time round when she’d been brought there on Black Friday.. She removed the cloth, putting it in the pocket of her coat as she looked at it. Undamaged. Unbroken. Still riddled with evil.

I forget how pwetty The Black Book looks to the human eye! It's all green when I look at it. Curse these eyes. Now how about you open it up, turn to Holding Court With The Void and-

“Stephanie!”

Wiggly snarled as Steph spun around.

Who dare disrupts The Lord In Black-

“What the fuck are you doing here, dad!?”

There was Wiggly’s answer in the six-foot, suit-wearing form of Hatchetfield’s mayor, Solomon Lauter. Basked in backlight sent from the moon, he told her, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Steph stood, wet mud sticking to her leather leggings. “For once, I am making things right now move out of my way! I need to get to my car-“

“Where did you get that book?”

“Where the fuck did you think I got that book?! From the ground, dumbass!”

“Stephanie.” Solomon looked at her. “I want you to put that book back down, and I want you to step away.

“As if you’d understand the book.”

“You are unaware about half of the things I know.”

“Like you’d know about The Black Book-“

“Holding Court With The Void won’t fix the fact you have Wiggog Y’Wrath implanted in your brain.”

Whoopsie daisies, Stephanie-Wephanie! Looks like you’ve been caught wed handed!

Steph’s eyes lifted from the book, looking directly at her father. If she wasn’t mistaken, she heard a loud bang from the east where she could see his car. A nighthawk, probably. Fucking nighthawks. Dumb as shit nighthawks being the reason they’d been tangled up in the first place. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know, Stephanie.” He said, folding his arms. “I know about what you did on the Black Friday of 2019. I know about The Apotheosis, and I know you murdered Max Jagerman. For god’s sake, Steph. If you’re going to kill someone, do it like a Lauter, and don’t get caught.”

I take everything back. I might not want him as a prophet, but Tinky might.

“And I’m unimpressed that you would fall to such a low level easily. That you let yourself succumb to a Lord In Black.”

She shook her head, doing her best to ignore Wiggly’s attempts at manipulation. “It was your decision. Why do you think I don’t trust you? Because you got me into this mess-“

“You can place the blame on whoever you want to, but at the end of the day, it’s you who’s the issue. There’s nothing you can do now. It’s too late. Put the book back.”

“No.” 

“Stephanie, this isn’t a debate. Put the book back.”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I told you. I’ve been distant, but I know the timeline rules. I know this is where you’d inevitably turn back to-“

He’s had your phone bugged ever since you were twelve years old.

“Oh, so you know about all the shit I got into and you’ve decided to take the backseat, have you?!”

Then, a third voice joined them. “I know! Some dad he is! Hey, Mr Mayor! You always did say I had some arm on me! How’s your ability to catch?”

Before Steph could process who stood in the woods with them, she watched as the decapitated head of Miss Tessburger, her father’s assistant and lover, flew through the air, landing in his hands. Steph covered her mouth, gripping The Black Book to her chest as the cackle of Maxwell Jagerman filled the skies.

“Pretty good for a fuckin’ nerd! And she was pretty good at her job too! She gave me head in her car! What’s up with that?!”

Solomon, in disgust, dropped the head, turning to face Max, who stood in his neon pink glory, all but glowing under the dusky sky. “Maxwell! Young Mister Jagerman! What a delight it is to see you-“

“Oh, cut the crap you fucking wanker!”

Even in death, it seemed Max Jagerman was not immune to his British accent coming out whenever his emotions got the better of him. With her dad’s attention turned away from her to Max, she ran off back to her jeep. She slammed the trunk shut, shovel abandoned as she reached for her phone. Jumping in the drivers’ seat, she texted Pete back.

“I am the mayor, I am the most powerful man in Hatchetfield! Do not talk to me like that!” Her father shouted, Max’s cackle following.

“I beg to differ, bitch!”

Hands shaking, she kept typing.

Pete. I’ve got the book.

“Listen to me, Max. Whatever happened in the past timeline, I am sorry for it. You know it wasn’t me! You have to know it wasn’t me! I would never harm one of Hatchetfield’s finest nighthawks!”

I’m sorry about what I did, but I’ve got the book.

I’m gonna fix things.

“Yeah, you might not have intentionally harmed Hatchetfield’s finest Nighthawk, but that doesn’t mean Hatchetfield’s finest nighthawk isn’t about to hurt you.”

I need you to meet me at the school.

Hang on, I’ll message the group chat. I need everyone

there at once.

“Maxwell, think about it! I can-I can buy you beers, son!”

“Funnily enough, Solomon, ya can’t drink when you’re a fuckin’ ghost, can ya?! Not that you’d know that, considering you’re still alive and all.”

She turned her car back on, making a group chat with Pete, Grace, Ruth and Richie included on Instagram. She didn’t have Grace’s number, and she was more than shocked to see Grace actually had Instagram.

I need you all to meet me at Hatchetfield High within the hour.

It’s an emergency.

“But hey, Mister Mayor! I think I’ve waited far too long to get my revenge, so how’s this for an October surprise for ya?!”

A gunshot and a scream sounded. As Steph’s headlights turned on, she had to resist shrieking out in fear. There, before her, was her father impaled on a very large hand-crafted spear, a gunshot through his head. Wielding the spier proudly was Max Jagerman, brandishing a small pistol. In the hazy headlights that broke through The Witchwood’s darkness, he turned his head to face her.

“Ya better run, Stephanie-Wephanie. Better hope The Black Book fixes everything. You’ve got two hours before I’m after you. Run, nerd, run.”

She didn’t know why he spared her. She really didn’t, but for once, she was grateful. With everything a neon-coloured blur, she pulled away from The Witchwood, heading back into town. Pete would understand in an hour, if he showed up. He’d understand why she was doing what she was to save the town. It had to be her. It her and him against the whole world, but she was the one to control The Black Book.

With Hatchetfield High slowly fading into sight, she could only hope that, for once, things were gonna go her way.

This stopped tonight. She was gonna save the school whether Pete liked it or not.

Chapter Text

It had been an hour after Peter Spankoffski had initially broken down in the arms of his brother. The Great British Baking Show had finished by then. Ted was in the kitchen area making himself a chai tea and Pete a hot chocolate. He was sat there thinking. Max was half British. Did he call it The Great British Baking Show, or did he call it it’s original name, The Great British Bake Off? What did it matter. Max was dead. Max was dead, he was a ghost, and he was behind the murders in town. There was no stopping a being like Max Jagerman, not anymore. He may as well sit back and cruise along until Max decided it was his time to die. He might as well get in some memorable moments with Ted while he still could.

Still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to school that day, too exhausted to change into pyjamas, he let himself curl up on the couch. An old blanket was draped over him. Ted said he got it as a gift from their parents when he moved into the apartment. Pete called him a liar with no evidence to back it up. Peter was just over six foot tall, something he’d never adapt to. He’d never admit the fact that he missed being short. People always sought to being tall. He, however, wanted to go back to how things had once been. He’d started testosterone, turned into someone completely different, and he was now six foot tall. No, him starting T wasn’t responsible for his unpredicted growth spurt. Him falling through a different dimension, was, though. When he’d been short, Steph had loved him. Before he had started testosterone, he’d been…well, not happy, exactly, but he hadn’t been this low. Had he sacrificed his happiness for the sake of testosterone? Was this his fault? He didn’t know, not that he wanted to anyway.

He cuddled up on the couch. He and Ted were gonna watch Revenge Of The Sith soon. He liked that movie. He could remember being little and watching it with Ted for the first time. He could remember latching on to Anakin Skywalker’s look specifically in that movie. He’d been so little and he’d been fixated on him. Then, as he grew up, he remembered asking himself, ‘do I want to kiss him, or do I want to be him?’ As it turned out, both could be the answer. He ran his hand through his hair, letting himself tiredly smile. He looked to the blank TV screen and thought to himself, ‘I hope Anakin would be proud of me.’ Unless he slaughtered the youngling and became Hatchetfield’s most notorious villain, then he doubted the fictional character would be, but hey. At least their hair was the same length now!

Finally settling down, finally trying to move on from the fight he’d had earlier, he let his eyes close. He’d probably fall asleep watching Revenge Of The Sith. That crying burst took a lot of energy out of him. He hadn’t said much since he stopped crying. Ted understood. At least Ted understood, because half the time, people didn’t. They’d watch Revenge Of The Sith, he’d end up falling asleep on Ted’s shoulder and tomorrow, he’d wake up on the couch in the same clothes he was wearing now, underneath that same blanket. He’d be rested and he’d be able to think clearer. He’d turn his phone on tomorrow, see that Steph probably responded to his text and he’d move on from there. Bad news could only lie behind a locked screen, and he’d only be able to access it by turning his phone back on. Bad news waited with the switch off. He’d wait until tomorrow.

Except he was Peter Spankoffski. Things never went his way.

Soon enough, there was a frantic pounding on the door, Pete’s name being shouted from the other side. He sighed, shrugging the blanket off of him. “I got it, Ted,” he said quietly.

Ted looked over to him. “Are ya sure? Ya don’t gotta-“

He cut Ted off by opening the door to see Richie and Ruth standing there. Before he could ask what they were doing there, they barged in, shutting the door.

Ruth took his hands. “Pete. We need to get back to school. Now.”

“Huh?” He looked at them both confused.

“You’ve got your phone off, and we respect that, so we came here!” Richie told him, gripping at his shoulders. “We’ve gotta get back to school!”

“Why?!”

“Because!” Ruth gently shook him. “Steph’s figured out how to fix this.”

He rolled his eyes, shrugging them off. “Can we not do this tonight?”

“She’s literally pulled Satan’s bible out from the ground! She sent a photo to a group chat she made on insta with me, you and Grace in! Look!” Ruth flipped her phone round so Pete could see it.

He’d be damned. Steph had only gone and done it. By the fact the cover was black, he could only assume that was The Black Book she’d been shouting about. “I feel like a dick.” He ran a hand over his face, collapsing back on to the couch.

“Yes, but Peter!” Richie stood there, hitting his fists together. “This means you can fix everything! No more falling through dimensions! No more-“ Richie looked up. “Hi, Ted.”

Ruth looked up then, cringing. “Oh, fuck, I forgot he’d be here-“

“I told him, he knows. You can talk about it.”

Richie picked up right where he left off. “Right, but this is good news though! Because it means no more falling through dimensions, no more losing each other, getting rid of the fucking-Ruth, what are their names?”

“The Lords In Black!”

“Them! Steph said she’s got the leader in her head who wants her to be a prophet to bring around a new age?”

“Yeah, she did that and she killed Ted in the process so…”

“She did what?” Richie asked Pete.

“…she went insane with power and kinda went on a murderous rampage I stopped because she killed Ted…long story.”

“Right, so if she did do that, then basically if we don’t stop her and that Wiggly guy, who’s to say he won’t take over her mind again? Who says that murderous rampage won’t start back up?!”

“I…I don’t know…”  

“So if she did the thing she wants to with that book, it means you’ll be able to stay here! With us! And it means you and her are gonna be fine!”

“But we’ve gotta take this chance!” Ruth said, tugging on Pete’s arm again. “For you! To save Steph, sure, but for you! So what do you say? Are you up for kicking god’s ass?!”

“I was…I was kinda gonna settle here with Ted and we were gonna watch a movie and-“

“No, no, don’t mind me.” Ted said, setting his chai tea on the coffee table. “Seems like you’re busy saving the world.”

“Yeah but…we were gonna-“

“What you’re doing is important. Movie night can wait. It seems this can’t.” He waved a finger between Ruth and Richie. “You two? Keep him safe. Bring him back to me in one piece.”

“We will. We’ll take the best care of him. We’ll make sure nothing happens to him!”

“So does this mean you’ll do it? Does this mean you’re coming with us?” Richie asked Pete.

Pete looked back up to Ted. “…are you sure it’s okay with you? It really is important and I’m not just saying it because I want to. I really don’t, but I need to and-“

“Hey, Petey?” Ted walked over, placing a travel mug in Pete’s hands. “Go be a hero. Go save the world. It’s pretty fucking cool you get that chance again. Just stay safe.”

“I’ll try.” He took the travel mug, smiling gratefully. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Take as long as you need because hey, what do I know about saving the world? You’ve got more experience in that field than I do. I seemed to end the world more than I did try and save it.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Pete’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you, Teddy. I love you. A-and I’ll ring you if I need anything.”

“I know you will.” He looked at the group of teenagers. “Alright, get the fuck outta my apartment. Go save the world.”

Ruth squealed, beginning to tug Pete out the apartment as he pulled away. “Wait! My-“

“-phone?” Ted finished, walking over to the couch. He turned it on, connecting it to the power bank he had. He passed the devices over to his little brother. “I love you too, now fuck off, Spider-Man.”

Allowing his hopes to rise, Pete exited the apartment, his friends following behind him. “We’re taking Richie’s car, right?”

“Yeah, and Steph’s picking Grace up.” Richie explained, all but running down the stairs. “This is like a real life anime!”

“Fuck anime, this is fanfic!” Ruth told him. “We’re going to school after hours to do this weird fucking thing to defeat Max Jagerman, who’s apparently a ghost now, and we’re like, enemies to lover-ing right now!”

“I don’t think we are, but okay, Ruth.” Pete said, pushing open the door to exit the apartment.

Richie ran over to his car, unlocking it, jumping inside. “So have you and Steph talked at all since…ya know?”

“I sent her a message and turned my phone off. So no. If she messaged me back, I haven’t seen it yet. I’m sticking to my phone ban. I’ll only message Ted if I’m in danger…which, with The Lords and what I know, is almost an a hundred percent chance. Uh, what’s the plan, then?”

Ruth jumped in the passenger’s seat, buckling in. “Okay, so, we’re meeting Steph and Grace in the gym. She said she’s found a way to defeat these bastards once and for all. Her words, not mine. Apparently, we just gotta follow her lead on it and shit.”

“Right…I assume she’s found some sort of ritual or something because from what I know, The Black Book-“

“Satan’s bible.” Ruth interrupted. “It’s basically Satan’s bible.”

“Right, but it’s called The Black Book, so that’s what I’m calling it. The Black Book is basically filled with…spells, and stuff. I don’t know.”

“This is gonna be so badass!” Ruth slid down in her chair slightly. “I’m lowkey excited.”

“Ruth, you’re hardly lowkey. You’re high-key.”

“It’s not every day you get to summon the devil!” She gasped, sitting back up as Richie drove. “Do you think the devil’s gonna be sexy?! Do you think I could bone him!?”

Pete took a sip of his hot chocolate. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d heard tonight. The weirdest definitely went to Ted admitting he had a therapist now. He still didn’t know if it was true or not. “His name is Wiggly. He’s an underwater creature from out of this world. You won’t wanna fuck him.”

“But what if he’s sexy!” She turned to Richie. “If he’s sexy, can I fuck him?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Pete, in shock, looked over to him. “You’d let her?! Isn’t that cheating?!”

“Look, we have a rule that if either of us got the chance to have sex with Max Jagerman, we’d do it! So I don’t see why that rule can’t expand out to other people, like the devil! Just because Ruth’s my girlfriend, it doesn’t mean, to me, that her body should just be mine! I want her to experience with a lot of different sex! I don’t even know if I’m that good because we’re each other’s first times!”

“Yeah. And he was sexy as fuck, Pete.” Ruth told him. “I don’t need anyone else. I’m staying with him for life. But it’s the same for him too. Like, he can fuck someone else. As long as it’s consensual and as long as he’s having fun doing it, you know?”

“…right.” Pete didn’t understand, but didn’t want to dwell on it. His friends’ relationship wasn’t his, so he wasn’t going to question it at all.

They drove the rest of the way to Hatchetfield High, heading through the back of the gym doors after walking across the football field. There, inside, Grace and Steph waited. He noticed Grace had at least changed herself out of the clothes she’d worn at school because now, she was in a plum-purple sweater vest and black jeans. She was wearing black sneakers, and even from afar, Pete could recognise the neon purple and yellow butterfly clips in her hair.

Only slightly nervous to see his potentially ex-girlfriend, he shuffled inside. The Black Book was something of a legend to him as of then. Seeing it in real life, seeing the thing responsible for hurting his girlfriend…it sparked an anger within him. She hadn’t deserved any of that. She really didn’t. She hadn’t deserved anything that had happened to her. She’d been so nice, she didn’t need an active god in her head trying to take over so he could reign havoc. She needed people who cared about her to guide her on the right path. She needed love, friendship and security.

By the way she looked over at him, he figured she knew that too.

Ruth and Richie walked over to Grace as Steph rose from off the floor. Pete remained lingering at the other end of the hall, watching as Steph hesitantly took steps towards him. All he could do was look at her with the remnants of their fight lingering in his eyes. Eventually, her face cracked and she bolted forward, wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t shrug her off of him, but instead held her back.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I believe you,” he replied.

“I didn’t mean to-Pete, I’m so sorry-“

“I believe you.” She pulled back and he looked down at her. “But I need to know what we are. Are we, or are we not, still together? It was…it was a real bad fight, Steph. It’s taken everything out of me, and I’m tired and I just need to know.”

She looked up at him. “I…you haven’t seen my text, I assume?”

He shook his head.

“I know I fucked up. I forced you to try and say those three words like it was nothing, but saying I love you is huge and…and I know the fight was bad but…but I never said I was breaking up with you. You asked me if I was walking out, and I did, I walked out, but not because I was breaking up.” She took his hand. “As of right now, I’m still your girlfriend. At least, that’s how I interpreted everything…”

“…you’re still my girlfriend?”

“If that’s what you still want?”

He wrapped her back up in a hug. “It’s all I want, Steph. You’re all I want…” With her head resting against his chest, he kissed her forehead. “Just know I won’t forgive you for that, for a long while.”

“I don’t expect you to. What I did was shitty, and-and you did nothing wrong but I did…thank you for letting me back in.”

“…Ted’s pissed at you as well, by the way. I’d keep away from my apartment for a while, if I were you.”

“Yeah, that’s…yeah.”

“…but he understands this is important. So, how about we stop stalling and take down God as we know him?”

Steph pulled away again. “And you realise it isn’t the same ritual as what I did last time, right? All it said was that the ritual needed to be performed at a black alter, which is one of the five locations The Waylons built excluding Waylon Hall, and Hatchetfield High was one of them.”

“I understand, and I’m ready. Well, as ready as I can be.”

Taking his hand, she walked him over to the middle of the gym where she knelt down, setting The Black Book on the floor. “You guys ready for this as well?”

“More than ready!” Ruth said, kneeling down next to Grace, who knelt down next to Steph.

Richie knelt down next to Pete, who was kneeling down on the left side of Steph. “I mean…Ruth’s more excited than me but…if it means to save you guys then…then I’m ready.”

“And what about you, Grace?” Steph asked.

Grace shrugged. “If it means we put an end to that brute then I am prepared to go through hell and back to make things right again.”

Steph looked to Pete, who gave her a gentle nod. Placing his hand on her back, she looked down to the book. “And you guys can see the ritual, right?”

Everyone squished in together. One by one, they confirmed they could read the words.

Exhaling, she made the call to start the beginning of the end. “Then we invoke the names.”

Steph counted down from three, and they uttered the first name. “Pokotho,” they uttered in sync, a lightbulb above them flickering out. “Bliklotep.” More lights flickered off, and around them, a cold wind breezed as whispers began to circle around them.

Pokotho. Bliklotep. T’Noy Karaxis. Nibblenephim. Pokotho. Bliklotep. T’Noy Karaxis. Nibblenephim.

“T’Noy Karaxis.” More lights flickered off, the group huddling in closer together. “Nibblenephim.”

Another layer of whispers, in a feminine voice, joined the rest.

Wiggog, Wiggog Y’Wrath. Wiggog, Wiggog Y’Wrath.

“Wiggog Y’Wrath.”

The room was plunged into darkness, and the unmistakeable sound of waves crashing joined the room. Either the floor was really cold, or their trousers were getting wet. Pete moved his hand off of Steph’s back, moving to take her hand on the floor. “…did it work?” He asked, a faint squeak to his voice.

As soon as he said it, though they couldn’t see anyone else, new presences joined them. They could feel them. They could feel they were no longer alone. They’d be right.

From behind them, a voice all too familiar to Steph spoke, his smirk imminent in his voice. “HELLO, FRIENDY WENDS.”

There was a flash of green, pink, yellow, purple and blue and the lights came back on. Richie was the first one to spin around, looking directly at the five eldritch deities who were…surprisingly human. All he managed to shout, by looking directly at the figure who stood behind them, was, “WHY THE FUCK DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME?!”

He’d receive no answer. Their identities were fluid. Gender and race did not matter in The Black and White. They could be whoever they wanted to be, so their appearances would  not be discussed. Still, after Richie acknowledged him, Steph immediately turned around upon hearing the most distinct cackle out of them all, immediately spun around to face him. There, looking down at her, was none other than the thing in her head.

“Oh, this feels better!” He said, right hand placed on top of his left. His ring and pinkie finger were glued together, as were his middle and index. He had pale skin with a yellow undertone and bright green eyes. Neon. His hair stuck up at the top, but with a faint wave, was long enough to rest just under his ears. It was a dark green, forest green, one would say, and it all but matched the rest of his look. He was wearing a white button up shirt with a green white-spotted tie. Over the top, he wore a lime green cardigan, four identical white stripes on the left sleeve, with several black splodges sewn on. The centrepiece was a dark green W outlined in gold glitter. Partnered with green and grey tartan trousers, neon green converse, a ring on his right hand and a crown, there stood Wiggog Y’Wrath, the very man Steph had feared so much. “It’s not so cramped out here, is it, boys?!”

Turning around, the five of them noticed that Wiggog Y’Wrath was not the only one there.

Starting from the very left, there was a tall, slender, pale faced mask holding teenage boy. Underneath a mop of wavy black hair was a bright blue beret placed on top. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt with glittery, silver writing across the chest. Pokotho, it read. That made it easy to distinguish who he was. He was in dark denim jeans and black shoes but stared at them with neon blue eyes. He seemed to have changed, since the last time Steph had seen him. This all seemed to fit. The mask he held in his hand had to be made of porcelain. It’s eyes were sunken in, and there were painted-on cracks around it. Blue goop was painted on around it’s eyes and mouth. He made it clear who he was. He was staring straight at Pete.

Next to him was the candy man. She, well, they supposed he considering he was a brother of Wiggog Y’Wrath, was wearing a white button-up shirt with a pink pinafore dress over the top. Fastened by hot pink ribbons, the way he shimmied made them flutter in the wind. He wore white lacey tights and baby pink platform shoes, hearts in the centre where the laces were, though there were zips along the side with a little heart charm on them. A lilac ribbon was tied in a bow underneath his collar, and fingerless neon pink fishnet gloves rested on his hands. His hair was long and the pinkest of the ensemble. A light pink visor and bangs covered whatever eyes he may have had, but that didn’t stop two pigtails from poking out the top. All they were able to see on his face was a painted pink smile. Nibblenephim. He had to be. He had to be the one who feasted in the dark.

On the other side of Wiggly, on the far right, was a bastard dressed in bright yellow. He was wearing an orange t-shirt tucked into yellow cargo pants, which were tucked into equally yellow boots. He wore a denim jacket over the top and carefully caressed a golden box in his left hand. His hair was equally as yellow as the rest of his clothes, but he seemed to be wearing golden steampunk goggles to keep his bangs out of his bright blue eyes. As well as that, what seemed to be tiny brown horns appeared to be poking out of the top of his head. T’Noy Karaxis. He just had to be. From what Holloway and Peter had said, that had to be Tinky.

Then there was the final one. Bliklotep, who looked absolutely nothing like Steph had expected. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been in a houndstooth blazer and a matching skirt. But, there he stood, staring right at her. Underneath a magenta coloured hoodie, Lord Bliklotep stood in a purple tailcoat, fastened at the middle with golden buttons. In black leather leggings and six inch black platform heels, he menacingly tucked his neon yellow hair behind his ear. Pulling the hood of his hoodie up, he readjusted his eyepatch, running his tongue over his teeth. The difference between him and his brothers, though, was he was not white in terms of ethnically presenting. He hadn’t been when she’d first met him either. Then again, it seemed they could appear at will. It seemed race didn’t matter to them. Nothing mattered to them, save for the form of evil.

“Hello, Gracie!” Blinky said, bending over, looking directly at the girl. It was here Steph was able to note that his hair was tied in a ponytail, and that ponytail was resting on Bliklotep’s right shoulder. “Have you got something to tell your friendy-wends!? It’d be delightful to see this go down here while we’re here in our physical forms!”

“Our physical teenage forms!” Tinky cackled. “JUST LIKE MY PETER-“

Pete flinched and Steph squeezed his hand. Sharply, she turned to Grace. “What secret, Grace?! What have you done!?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about what she’s done, Stephie. I think it’s what you did that’s the issue. Remember the ritual?!” Wiggly called to her from behind.

She flinched then. “…how could I forget? You’ve made my life hell.”

“And now we’ve brought hell to your life!”   

Shaking, Pete looked around. “W-Who are you?!”

“Oh, I thought he’d know by now! I believe our friendy-wend may have warned you about us, no?!” Wiggly stuck his bottom lip out, but rolled his eyes nonetheless. “Alright, brothers, roll call, then we’ll do Pokey’s stupid fucking song.”

“YES!” Pokey fist pumped. Pushing his mask on to his face, he bowed forward. “Lord Pokotho.”

Jumping back to the other side of the pentagram, Blinky giggled, tucking his curtsying with the ends of his tailcoat. “Lord Bliklotep. Feel free to call me Blinky, it won’t matter to me either way.”

The horned beast next to him jumped up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “T’Noy Karaxis. The T stands for THEODORE HOW’S YOUR BROTHER, PETER, LET ME SEE HIM-“

“Ergh. Boys.” The pink one said, leaning forward. “Nibblenephim.” He said elegantly, licking his lips. If Steph wasn’t mistaken, a bloody residue was left behind.

“And you already know me.” Wiggly shouted, holding his hands out, still wiggling his fingers. He looked down at the confused yet scared faces of Ruth Fleming and Richie Lipschitz, sighing. “Except you two. And Grace. And Peter- Wiggog Y’Wrath, though Peter, you may know me better as THIS BITCH!” He swung his backpack off, holding the doll form of himself in his hands. “The Tickle-Me Wiggly!”

“…oh shit.” Pete wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, shit, what have we done?!”

“YOU HELD COURT WITH THE VOID, NOW SUFFER!” Wiggly cackled before resuming positions.

Pokotho mimed playing on a piano, and notes were soon heard within the gym. Notes, and a spontaneous musical number that went as followed.

“OUT OF THE DEPTHS OF HELL AND BACK, US SPAWN OF THE BLACK AND WHITE. COVER OUR SOULS WITH ROBES OF BLACK AND TAKE UP THE ARMS OF NIGHT. NIBBLY WANTS A SACRIFICE AND WIGGLY WANTS HIS WRATH. WE DANCE AROUND THE PENTAGRAM AND TAKE ALL OUR KINGDOMS BACK. BABBLE THE SPELL THAT GETS IT DONE, BABBLE IT ON COMMAND. WON’T STOP UNTIL ALL THE BLOOD IS DRAWN, THE LORDS IN BLACK DEMAND! YOU SUMMON US ONCE, YOU SUMMON US TWICE, YOU GAMBLE IT ON THE ROLL OF A DICE! THE DEVIL HAS WON, IT CAN’T BE UNDONE, THE BOOK HAS ALL BUT CLOSED ON YOUR LIFE!”

Clearing his throat, Blinky resumed position, bowing back down to Grace. “As I said. We’ve been watching you, Gracie! Someone’s been a little naughty!”

“AND HOW’S YOUR FUCKING BROTHER, PETER?! HOW’S MY TEDDY-BEAR-“

“Calm the fuck down, Tinky! Jesus fucking Christ!” Nibbly shouted at him.

“JESUS WON’T SAVE YOU WHERE YOU’RE GOING, GRACIE-“

“Middle child syndrome, am I right?” Still, Nibbly bowed to them, looking directly down at Steph. “Oh, but you really do look delicious. Lemme just move my hair outta my eyes and…” The cap lifted. His hair was swept away. Steph was soon staring into the eyes, or what had been the eyes of Nibblenephim. Two bloody gouged-out sockets stared back at her, and all Nibbly could do was giggle. “Whoops! I musta got a little hungry earlier! There’s only so much meat on a dead nighthawk!” With the flick of his wrist, Nibblenephim was soon holding a white cane, leaning against it.

Grace looked around regardless. “So you’re the lords in black?”

“Yes, you stupid girl!” Wiggly shouted at her.

“So you can help us abolish Max Jagerman!”

Blinky giggled. “Oh, I don’t think you’d want that, Gracie!”

“Why help you with the Jagerman when we can help the world!” Nibbly added on.

“Besides, don’t be so formal, Chasity. We’re all pally-wals here! I mean, look at us! We even hold court in your own tongue and form! GO NIGHTHAWKS!”

Ruth raised her hand. “If-if you’re eldritch gods, why do you look so much like teenagers?!”

“Because, Flemwad! Our true forms would melt your mind!”

“Oh, for goodness sake’s, don’t frighten her, Pokey, you nasty boy! I know puking in mouths is your whole thing but I’d rather not deal with a spillage on aisle you!”

“Kill yourself, Wiggly. I’ll fucking bomb you,” Pokey said in retaliation.

“I would like to see you try.”

“Look!” Steph looked back up at The Lord In Black, watching as he pulled the crown further down on his head. “We need to stop Max Jagerman. Can…can you help us?”

“I think you would know better than anyone, Stephanie, that yes, we could. We could drag Maxie back down to Drowsy Town, but what’s the fun in that?!”

Tinky snarled, canines bared. “The fun is PLAYING WITH MY TEDDY BEAR-“

“OH MY GOD.” Nibbly looked back over to him. “This isn’t about Theodore! Will you give us five minutes! This’ll be done before you know it!”

“Bitch!”

“Yeah, yeah. At least my prophet’s not a porn addict!”

Tinky flipped him off. Nibbly just grinned.

“Ignoring my stupid brothers, why would we do that for you? Because Maxie’s about to tear you all to bloody bits!?”

“And if that isn’t something I’d pay to see, then I don’t know what is.” Blinky added.

Richie spoke up then. “T-Then how about we bargain with you?! We give up something we want for you to get rid of Max!”

“WHATEVER WE WANT?!” Wiggly roared, the Lords bursting into another segment of song.

Steph looked over to Richie. “Have you ever seen a horror movie?! Shit like that never ends well!”

“I’m trying to help!”

“You and Ruth need to shut up. Me and Pete have got this. And Grace, apparently.” Steph looked back up to them as the musical segment came to a close.

With two fingers, Wiggly drew out an invisible list. “Hmm well, what can you give to me? I’ll check my Christmas list and…oh. Hang on. There is something!”

“What?!” Steph asked. “What is it?!”

“SOMETHING REAL FUCKIN’ FUN!”

“Something delicious which’d go well with a side of burnt Ezekiel!” Nibbly added.

“And it’s something you’ll hardly miss! Now, there’s one of two options.” Wiggly gestured to his younger brother. “Considering this bitch won’t shut up about how miserable he is he’s got nothing to eat, you could give up some blood. It’d let him live long enough to prevent another sacrifice, but it has to be enough blood to feed The Black and Nibbly.”

“I’d think twice about that decision if you were me. He’s fuckin’ vampiric.” Pokey added.

“Or!” Wiggly held up a finger. “You could give up the thing you cherish most.”

“Now that sounds more like fun!” Pokey stepped closer, kneeling down in front of them. “What do you want, Steph!?”

The Lords cackled once more as Wiggly continued. “We want what you really want. Blood, or the thing you cherish the most. Remember, Stephanie. You can’t lie to me. I’m in your fuckin’ head! So think about it!” Flicking his wrist, Wiggly summoned a gun out of thin air, bending over. His body unnaturally toppled over Steph, though he did not fall. Instead, he set the gun in her lap and stood back up. “Remember this? You should.”

Steph looked at it. “…it’s just a gun.”

“The gun that took Maxie’s life at the hands of your father!” Nibbly reminded.

“And now, with Mayor Lauter dead, it belongs to you!” Wiggly told her.

Pete turned to face Steph. “…your dad’s dead?”

“He died at The Summoning Tree! We all saw it!” said Blinky, refusing to let up on tormenting the kids.

“And you know what must be done. Don’t you, Stephanie?” Wiggly smirked. “Put a bullet through his skull, drain another human of most of their blood or suffer.”

She looked down at the gun in her hands, gulping. “I am not my father. I won’t hurt another man-“

“Each Lauter’s the same, obsessed with the matter of slaughtering. Either you give up the thing you cherish most, or you give us blood. If you’re unlucky enough, the thing you cherish most will be the thing bleeding out! So pay the price, or FUCK OFF!”

A thunder clap sounded with an orchestra or sharp laughter. Then, they were gone.

As Steph stayed staring at the gun in her hands, Ruth muttered, “and I didn’t even ask the green one if he wanted a quick fuck…”

“They’ll be back,” Grace said, standing up. “They always are.”

Peter turned to Steph, gulping. “…you okay?”

It was enough to get her to take her eyes off of the gun. “…me and you. We need to talk.”

“Okay…uh, where?”

“…football field. It’ll be…yeah, come on.”

Pete and Steph stood, Richie standing too. “Want us to come?”

“No. You three, stay here. This is between me and Peter.”

“Okay. Well, you’ll know where we are when you’re done so come find us!” Ruth called as the two exited through the back doors.

Steph guided him to the bleachers, where he took a seat three rows up. She checked the chamber of the gun. One bullet. Of course there was only one bullet. Wiggly would know what she’d want regardless. He already knew the truth, he knew what was to become of her. Wiggly wanted her to kill, to give into her mania, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t her father. But even if she did choose that route…was this one bullet going to be enough to save the world?

There was no use fighting anymore. There’d never be any fighting it. They were pitiful, mortal humans attached to the earth’s soul. They didn’t matter. Nothing ever mattered, not anymore. Nothing…except yes, they did. They mattered. To each other, they mattered, and she hated how she had to drag him back into this.

Only slightly regretting pulling him out in the crisp, cold air that autumn provided Hatchetfield with, Stephanie Lauter was doing her best to ready herself for this. As a Lauter, she’d been raised unethically. Her father had always told her that if she were to disobey the law then she needed to do it like a Lauter and not get caught. He’d always told her that this day would come. She knew she’d never be fully ready for it, but now, she had no choice but to be. This was in the hands of god now. Max needed to die, and she’d do anything to make sure he was banished from earth forever.

She’d grown up with Max, so it was awfully bittersweet to put herself in this position. Max wasn’t a good person and he knew it. He made sure Steph was reminded of that every moment of every living day he experienced. He’d been a  6’3 blonde haired toxin of a human being, or to the public eye, at literal monster. When he had been with her, it had been an entirely different story. There was no monstrosity behind the hazel eyes that Max Jagerman looked at her with. To Steph, Max had been calm. He had been gentle. He had been emotional and had allowed himself to give into primal urges, not necessarily the violent ones either. One time, he had cried in her arms over the fear of what his father would do to him if he was alone for too long. He’d been drunk and they’d been sixteen but it didn’t disrupt his feelings. He’d been lonely and in that moment, he was terrified. He was terrified, but they both knew he had the power to be terrifying. At the end of the day, all Max wanted was power. Max wanted to fight. It’s why he joined the football team. Max wished to reign terror and havoc over Hatchetfield and Steph didn’t know which genie he spoke to, but that wish had been granted.

Now Steph held a gun in her hands, thinking about what the best possible option could be. She thought and she thought and she thought, but that tormenting cackle of Wiggog Y’Wrath circulated throughout her brain. There was only one answer. Either to bleed or to give up the thing she wanted, she was one of the unlucky few where her favourite thing fell under both categories.

Spitefully, she was reminded about the fight she’d had with him earlier on in the coffee store. She’d tried to push it away but now, there was no avoiding it. With the gun in her hand knowing Peter’s fate, it was all she could think about. She’d never be able to take back what she said in the store and she knew that. She wasn’t pretending like she deserved to be forgiven because she didn’t. It was all her fault anyway. How she wished he’d take that gun off her and end this disaster once and for all.  

She’d be lying, though, if she turned around to Peter Spankoffski just to tell him she didn’t want to fight him when, in reality, she did. There was tension between them. Undeniable tension. It had been proven when they’d been in Beanie’s and she had told him “if I loved you, you would know it.” What had she even meant by that? She’d never been in love before. Sure, she’d loved people. She’d loved her mom, she’d loved her friends, she had loved Max in a past time, but this kind of love was different to her. This kind of love was thrilling, enticing and left her with the want for more. This kind of love left her wanting to tear his stupid fucking nerdy attire off with her teeth leaving him nothing but exposed so she could jump his damn bones.

She wanted him. Stephanie Lauter wanted Peter Spankoffski in all his geeky glory in every which way.

In every which way, Stephanie Lauter wanted that stupid geek. She wanted him to find her again while she was tucked away in the Bunsen burner cupboard in the science rooms. She wanted him to find her crying. She wanted him to find her at her worst, with blood on her hands and a manic grin on her face. She wanted him to push her back through the boundaries of earth. She wanted him to save her. She wanted him to be the hero she always wanted growing up. She wanted him to love her. She wanted to feel him wreck her. She wanted to wind back up in his bed, laying with her back pressed against his stomach as his hand laced with hers. She wanted to listen to him rambling about whatever topic took his fancy. She wanted to…She wanted to kiss his stupid face and wreck his stupid body. Outstandingly, though, the one thing she wanted most of all was to kill him. Metaphorically, because he’d been the reason they’d ended up tangled in that mess, but also physically. She wanted him gone, to wish she’d never wanted him in the first place, but hey. Now she had to do the dirty work.

She wasn’t a murderer…or at least, she hadn’t been a murderer. Tonight, that was gonna change and she knew it. Steph looked down at the gun. She had been told that, to end the reign of the ghost of Max Jagerman that she needed to either give up the thing she cherished most or give blood. By the way Lord Bliklotep had stared at her, she caught on to the implications right away. How the two of them were able to be casually cruel, she’d never fully understand but they’d ended up there, now. Right there, in that precise moment.

She needed to kill Peter Spankoffski.

At least it gave her an essence of reassurance, that this wasn’t a trap. Cruelty always won no matter what scenario it had to rule over first. Whether it be the movies or real life, violence always won. War, protests, the essence of character development in one’s personal story, violence always won. Villains were always defeated via violence because they never stood a chance. They’d never get a chance. Ever. This was him and her against each other with the end of this hellscape within their line of sight. It was only unfortunate about how this was what it came down to. Killing him, or him killing her.

She’d feel guilty doing it, obviously, because she was Stephanie Lauter. She wasn’t Stephanie Lauter under the influence of Wiggly. She was just Steph, and Steph wasn’t a murderer. She knew that, after this, she’d never be able to live with herself again but she knew she didn’t have a choice. This was her life now, filled with violence and filled with fear. One bullet. They knew she’d never be able to go through with doing this with no strings attached. They’d already figured out her plan. Shoot him, then herself, because a life where he wasn’t a smiling was a life she didn’t want to live in.

Fuck that. Fuck her and her love for him. She’d thought there’d been something there, she really had. Now, whatever could’ve possibly developed between them was about to die at the hands of one singular bullet.

They were stalling. Without speaking to each other, they were stalling and she knew that, so she made the brave decision to speak up. She looked up at him, noticing he was texting someone. “…who are you texting?”

“…Ted,” he answered hesitantly. “Just so he knows I’m safe.”

“It’s a lie and you know it. You know we’re not safe.”

Peter gripped his phone tighter, solemnly nodding. “Yeah…but he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know the truth. About…about how badly Tinky wants him or…why the fuck is his name Tinky? It’s stupid.”

“Hey, the leader of the Lords is called Wiggly and he’s done some pretty fucked up shit too so…” Steph could tell her joke hadn’t landed. She didn’t care. She knew she needed to move on. “Give blood or give up the thing we cherish…There has to be another way.”

He gulped, shaking his head. “You know there isn’t. You heard what they said.”

“They can’t make me do anything! They can fucking try but they can’t! Right now, they’re just human! That’s not the Wiggly in my head! Right now, they are teenagers! What power do they have over us when they’re just human!”

“Quite clearly they are not just human.” He swept a hand through his brunette hair, looking at her. “It doesn’t matter what we do, it doesn’t matter where we go. Either Max finds us or they do.” He gestured to the gun in her hands. “There’s only one way to end this, Steph-“

“No. No, there has to be another way. There’s always another way!”

“-stop stalling, Willow,” he said, using the endearing nickname he’d come up for her at the start of their relationship. “We can beat around the bush all we want but it won’t deny the truth. I know what those things want you to do…and I know they want you to do those things to me…why else would they give you the gun?” She watched as he moved his eyes from her to stare out ahead at the football field. “They want you to become the daughter your dad always wanted. They want you to relive your dad killing Max and…your dad’s really dead?”

She licked her lips, nodding. “…Max got him but…but it’s fine, there are bigger things at hand. We’ll talk about it when this is done-“

“But will there be time?” He sent the text he was typing to Ted, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Steph, they want me dead. We can’t talk if I’m dead.”

She flinched. Yeah. She knew that too. She wasn’t entirely ready to admit it to herself, though.

Silence fell on the two of them for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Y’know, all I wanted in life was for a girl to like me? Like…like me. To want to tolerate me for just a few seconds and…and I guess it’s not all roses when you get what you want, right?”

She looked at him, gritting her teeth together. Moving the gun to her right hand, her left gripped at her hair. “Fuck! This is all your fucking fault, Spankoffski!”

“I know. If I could take this back, then I would, you know that. If I could go back to The Apotheosis and make sure our fates would different, I would change this, I would change all of this!”

“All I wanted was to cheat off of a fucking geek so I could get a decent score so dad got off my fucking back! All I wanted was a good score on a chemistry project and-I didn’t want to end up liking you! You were supposed to be a tutor, not anything more! I specifically asked to be your partner on the next assignment because I knew feelings wouldn’t get in the way of my studies and- I didn’t wanna like you, you made me!”

“…you specifically…asked…for me?”

She looked back to the gun, shrugging. “Does any of that matter right now?”

“What…what did Stephanie Lauter have asking someone like me to be her science partner?”

“You had the best grades in the fuckin’ class and I panicked, okay?! But-but now I’m not panicking! I’m refusing! Because, Peter how about you give up the thing you want, huh?!” She could hear him laughing, and it fuelled a dampened rage in her heart. “You think this is funny?! I’m being so fucking serious right now! How about you give up your Pokémon cards, your nerdy fucking Star Wars figurines and-“

 “It’s you, Steph.”

Her eyes, they flicked back up to meet his. Now, she could see the glistening hint of tears behind his glasses. “I’m into you, and I know you know it, but no matter what, one of us has to die, right?”

Yeah. She knew it. She knew it’d come down to this. She cherished him above all else and now, it was confirmed he cherished her too. Whatever. She pushed it all back. That’d mean nothing by tonight. After tonight, there’d be no more dates, there’d be no more being the teenagers they’d want to be. All that there would be was the ability to life in a hellscape, where one of them would be dead and the other would be forced to live with that burden. One of them would be the murderer, the other one would be the murdered.

“They said one of us would be unlucky enough because to give blood and to give up the thing we cherished most would fall under the same category. Steph, they want me to kill you or you to kill me. That’s just how it has to be…”

“I know,” she confessed. “I-I know.”

“And not just to save the other but to save everyone.”

“I know.” Her voice was strained. She hadn’t wanted to come to terms with it. He was braver than her in that respect. At least he could verbalise the most terrifying thoughts that God dare throw at them.

“So let me do it.”

It came so easy to him, how he could give up his life on the frontline like that. She stared at him in shock, October wind freezing tears to her cheeks. “Huh?”

“You heard me. Let me do it, please.” He descended from the bleachers, walking back over to her. “Come on, Steph. Please. Let me do this.”

She shook her head, looking down to the floor. “No, Peter. You’re not gonna die tonight. No one-no one is gonna die tonight!”

“But someone has to!”

“Then why can’t Grace, Ruth or Richie give up the thing she cherishes most?! Grace’s thing would be a Bible, no doubt, Ruth’s would be some fuckin’ theatre script and Richie’s would be his goddamn Rei or Asuka body pillows! Don’t think I don’t know them that well! Don’t think they shouldn’t be the people to give up the things they cherish most-”

“I’m pretty sure the fact that Wiggly put the gun in your hands makes me think he wants you to be the one to do it….I think he knows that you’re trying to free yourself from him so he’s making this as painful as possible so please, Steph. Please, let me go.”

“God fucking dammit, Pete!” She looked away from him. “Are you fucking insane?!”

“Maybe, but this is for the best, right?”

“No!” She turned her back to him. How could he just stand there willing to give up his life over her, someone who’d done worse things than he had, someone who deserved to die. He was standing there, willing to give everything up for her, but things were finally making sense. How the fuck had she doubted he loved her earlier? This was love. This was how love was going to present itself. Right here, right now, on Hatchetfield High’s football field with him dead.

God fucking damn it. Why did it take killing him to reach the new age? Why was this the only answer?

She had one bullet. She had one chance to save the world by murdering someone she cherished most, and he was willing to go through with it. Fuck, maybe she did love him after all. She hadn’t really understood what love was supposed to feel like. She searched for it in Max Jagerman’s varsity jacket during their brief fling. She searched for it in the taste of cheap beer he’d smuggle her at parties. She’d searched for it in desperate, hungry kisses and she’d try to feel it as his hands got her out of her clothes, but she’d felt…nothing. She thought she’d felt love, but love was nothing compared to this. She should’ve known it from the start, really.

Her fantasies weren’t focused around Max Jagerman. They were focused around Pete.

With the newfound realisation presenting itself as tears and a shaky voice, she couldn’t help crying out, “Peter, I can’t shoot you!”

He took her hand and her heart gave a jolt. The way her stomach dropped had her feeling sick. Fuck. Maybe she was already dead. This kind of thing only happened in dreams. She’d wake up, they’d both be alive and everything would be fine. It had to be fine. Everything had to be fine. Suddenly, she was turning back around to face him, looking up into his deep, brown eyes. There he was, shooting her a watery, comforting smile. Her boyfriend. The pure love of her life. Her everything.  

Don’t let me go, her mind screamed. I don’t know who I am without you, please don’t let me go.

“Listen to me, Steph. Let me be cool this time, okay? Let me take the bullet.”

She shook her head, focusing on the way he ran his thumb over her knuckles. This felt so domestic. This felt like the life she should’ve been living, and she was about to put an end to everything she’d ever known. “I can’t do that. I can’t-I can’t do that. What do you think you’re doing!? This isn’t for the best so what are you doing?!”

“What’s right. If…if you kill me then…then it means you’ll get to live your life to the fullest. You’re gonna do amazing things, Steph.”

“My reputation’s never been fucking worse! What if the town find out about this!? What if-I’ll be ruined!”

“And Max has proven to us that ghosts are real. I’ll protect you.” He cupped her cheek, smiling down at her. “I promise.”

He shouldn’t love her. He shouldn’t be there right now. He should be with Ted and he should be in the safety of his own home but he was proving, by being there, that he was doing it for her. For her and her only.

God. He must like her for her, mustn’t he? Not for status, not for attention, money or fame. He liked her for her. It had more tears flooding her eyes. “And what if I don’t kill you?! What if you’re wrong? What if there are other options?!”

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know unless we test fate, right?”             

“What if I should go?”

“You’d get to live on.”

“Pete, you sacrificing yourself doesn’t make you as cool as you think you’d be. You know that, right?”

“And who’s to say I’m doing this to be cool?” He looked down to their hands. “I’m holding hands with my girlfriend, Stephanie Lauter, who’s the coolest person alive. I mean, that’s cool enough for me. I don’t need anything else. I mean, I know not many guys get to do this.”

“No, they don’t.”

“So I’m one of the lucky ones.” He looked down to their hands, doing his best to prevent himself from crying. “And Steph? You know, if someone asked me if I was gonna be murdered and I gotta choose who it was, who’d kill me? I’d…I’d always say your name, so I’m glad it turned out like this.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t make me seem like I’m a murderer. I-I’m not a murderer. I’m not-“

“I’ll get to die at the hands of someone I love, and that’s fine with me.” A tear fell down his face then. She looked up at him in shock. He’d told her outrightly. He should’ve told her scenarios ago, but he couldn’t go back now. It wasn’t under force, it wasn’t under pressure but more in the instance if he hadn’t told her, he’d never get to. She was gonna kill him. He’d just have to be okay with it. “Steph, you’ve got the gun. Whether the mainland finds out or not, you’ll still be the hunter. And I’m the pray. You’re the huntsman and I’m the fox. Or, even worse, The Lords In Black? Wiggly or whatever? They are the hunters, and we are the foxes. Steph, it’s either I die or we both do. I’d rather it just be me.” She’d started crying by then and it seemed like she hadn’t noticed. For that reason, he brushed a tear away on her behalf. “I’m glad it’s at the hands of you and not at the hands of fate.”

She pulled away from him then, turning her back to his. “Peter, you might be okay with it but I-I don’t wanna kill the guy I love.”

He choked on a sob. “Steph…”

“I don’t…everyone I’ve ever loved has left me. I want you to be the one to stay. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to be on my own again. Peter, I can’t so kill me-“

“I love you too.”

Steph shut her eyes, another tear trickling down her cheeks. “I know you do. So I don’t know why I’d even say you didn’t because you’re Micro Peter Spankoffski. Why wouldn’t you kill to go out with me?”

“Because I’m not the one pulling the trigger.”

Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he be a dick like everyone else in her life? Why couldn’t he have an inexcusable dark side that’d allow her to make this entire thing easier. She’d try and search for a dark side within him but she knew she’d never find it. She’d search for days, and she didn’t have that time. As a matter of fact, she only had seconds, and they were seconds she didn’t want to waste. He wasn’t a dickhead, though. She was. She was the asshole who was going to be known as Peter Murphy Spankoffski’s murderer.

There was a fog rolling through the football field, dew sweeping the grass and she could hardly care. Awake in the night, she knew she was running out of time. Max would be there soon, pacing towards them in all his ghostly glory. He’d murder them both mercilessly and she knew it, he’d given them enough warnings. To drag Max down to Drowsy Town once and for all meant to kill Pete. To kill Pete meant to burn the rope that tied them both together. She had to do it. She just had to.

And that was why she stayed facing away from him, desperately trying to find a loophole. She had to be the one to find a loophole. At least she was good at those. Finding the information people wanted her to miss, she could do that. It was the only thing she was smart at, though Pete would argue otherwise. She could make things right. She could find something that The Lords In Black hadn’t realised and she’d turn it into a loophole. There had to be a way. There was always a way…

Then, like the brightest strike of lightning the world could provide, it hit her. Blood. The Lords, they said blood. They never said to murder. They implied it, sure, but they never said he had to die. She thought about the implications. Oh god, she thought about the implications and got the result she wanted.

“You don’t have to die.”

“Yes, Steph, I do-“

“No! You don’t!” She wiped her tears away, bravely turning back around to face him. “What did The Lords In Black say? What did they say, repeat it back to me.”

“T-they said that one of us had to give blood or give up the thing we cherished most-“

“But did they say you had to die? Did they say any of us had to die?”

“N-No!”

“Exactly!” She tapped the gun. “It’s a red herring. They wanted me to think you had to die for Max to rest but you don’t! There’s a loophole and I…I think I know what I’ve got to do.” She put her hand back in his, looking into his eyes. “I still have to shoot you, but I won’t kill you. Wherever I shoot you, it’ll be risky, but I think they’re looking for another blood to thrive on to get the energy to take Max to Hell…I think I need to shoot you in the chest. I’ll-I’ll call an ambulance right after, I’m the mayor’s daughter, they won’t question shit and-“

“Ambulances are expensive-“

“And I’m the mayor’s daughter! I’m rich, Pete!”

“Uh, oh…yeah…” He looked down to them. “…I always knew you were as smart as I knew you were.”

“It’s risky. You could still die but I’m hoping that-“

“This means you’re gonna have to let me bleed out.”

“I know that…I know, b-but I’ll save you. I promise.” She noticed his eyes darting over her face, looking for a hint of a lie. He could see right through her by now and she knew that. She knew that he was able to figure out if she was lying. Even in the two weeks, they’d gotten really close with each other. He knew. Of course he knew. He knew that he could see right through her, to see if she was lying.

She wasn’t.

He took the gun from her, putting it directly to his heart, motioning for her to hold it as he knelt on the ground, the dew wetting his jeans. He couldn’t shoot himself and he knew it, it’d defy the rules, but he could lead Steph in the right direction. “I wanna kneel. I’d rather not fall over…I’d rather not hurt you.”

Steph knelt too, putting her hand on the gun, her finger resting on the trigger. She pulled him in close to her, letting his hands grip her in a hug. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried.”

“I know…” Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he figured he may as well, ironically, bite the bullet. “H-Hey, uh, Steph? Before you do this…in case I make it out…d…do you…if things were different, would you wanna go to homecoming with me?”

“I thought they cancelled it?”

“They cancelled the game but they didn’t cancel The Barbecue Monologues or homecoming…they figured the students would need something to look forward to so…”

She wiped her eyes, running her free hand through his hair, holding him close. “I would…I’d really like that, Pete. I’d like that a lot.”

He nodded too, then. “Cool…then uh, I’m ready. Pull the trigger, Steph. Do it. I’m ready-”

A gunshot sounded throughout Hatchetfield, and so did a sharp scream. He instantly felt limp in her arms, like a ragdoll, as a bloodstain bloomed on his chest.  She flung the gun somewhere far off into the field, holding him tightly. Her focus was on him now. Him, and how he trembled from the pain she caused. Tears continued to sting her eyes as he full-blown sobbed. “It’s okay, Petey. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

“It fucking hurts-“

“I know and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Her hand brushed through his hair as she felt him falling apart. He’d be okay. He needed to bleed out long enough for The Lords to satisfy desires, then she’d call an ambulance. She’d be able to fix this. She’d be able to fix him.

Maybe he’d hate her after that, but she was ready for it.

She’d been ready for combat. She’d been ready to fight, and she’d been all but prepared to fight anyone to get her way. She hadn’t expected it to end like that, though. She’d hold him until the end of eternity, comforting him through his pain as she waited for the right moment to end it. They needed blood, and they needed to save the world.

All she could hope was this was the right decision.

All she could hope was he’d live.

Chapter Text

It didn’t look promising.

He was already so weak in her arms when he’d fallen against her. He’d been kneeling against her, his body pressed into hers, but he’d still fallen. His head was nestled in the safety of her neck, her hair covering his face and his hands gripped at her body. He was sobbing, wheezing for air. Her voice had fallen to half of a whisper, trying to reassure him that he was gonna be okay. She didn’t know how much blood The Lords wanted. She didn’t know when she was supposed to pull the plug. She didn’t know when enough would reveal itself to them. That was how she feared that, even under their circumstances, she still might lose her boyfriend.

There was nothing except the sky and damp grass around them, leaving her and her dying boyfriend alone. She’d shot him through the heart. His sweater was ruined. She could see both an entrance and an exit wound, meaning he was bleeding out of both sides. He was shivering, he was getting colder and she didn’t know when she was supposed to dial an ambulance. How was she going to be able to explain that? He’d been shot, there was a gun thrown metres away and her fingerprints were all over it. They may know the truth, but the cops didn’t and she had the biting feeling they wouldn’t accept ‘I had to shoot my boyfriend to save our lives from Max Jagerman, who’s now a ghost’ as an answer. So, tears dripping down her face, she listened as he cried out in pain, his sobs getting progressively weaker.

It got to the point where she couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t handle hearing him in pain. The Lords must’ve got enough blood by now. She couldn’t let him die, she just couldn’t. As she went to reach for her phone, she heard a car door ferociously slam. It distracted her from what she was doing, causing her eyes to lift.

In the distance, lit by only the moon, was an all too familiar baby blue Studebaker. Closing the distance between them was the furious owner of said car.

“Get your fucking hands off of him!”

Her breath hitched as Pete turned his head. She felt him cuddle into her. Reliant. He was reliant on her, it’d make sense why he was cuddling into her but at the same time, she felt his breath hitch when he saw his older brother. “…Teddy,” he said quietly, his voice thick and nasally from his tears.

“Did you hear me, Stephanie?! Get your FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HIM!”

“Steph-“ Pete looked at her, choking on a sob, dusting her face with blood. “Fuck, sorry-“

“You need me to let you go. Don’t you?”

He only managed a nod before he fell weak again. Five minutes ago, he’d been standing. Now, he was curled up in pain, his life slipping away from him. Betrayal. He’d been betrayed by the world and everyone who lived within it including her. She was his fucking girlfriend and she was supposed to keep him safe, not do this bullshit. Her hand ran through his hair again, and then she let him go.

The older Spankoffski all but ran over then, grabbing Pete from Steph, holding him against him. “I’m not too late. Oh, thank fucking hell, I’m not too late-“

“Teddy,” Pete closed his eyes. “Don’t hate her for this. She had to-“

“When you said you were going off to be a hero, I didn’t think you were going to kill yourself!”

Pete spluttered again. “Steph, ambulance.”

She nodded, dialling the three sacred numbers. She stood up, walking away from them.

“I shoulda never fucking let you do this! Oh, fuck!” Ted looked down at him, his chest heaving. “What the hell have you done!?”

“I saved the world. I’m a hero, Teddy…are you proud of me?”

“Hey. Come on, don’t talk like that. You’re not dying today. You’re not gonna die.”

“…and if I do?”

“…then I’m the proudest guy on the planet right now. Proud of you for stepping up. Proud of you for taking a risk. Proud of you for being your beautifully nerdy self.”

Pete looked up at him. “I’m so tired.”

“Don’t even fucking think of closing your eyes.”

“I can’t help it-“

“Then you’d better start helping, hadn’t you!?”

“And…and you know that…I coulda…I coulda fell through any dimension? I’m…I’m real glad I ended up here, where my brother’s not a complete dick. I…I am the happiest I’ve ever been.” The tears never stopped falling, but they became more prominent now. “I love you, Teddy.”

“Don’t close your goddamn eyes or I will fucking kill you myself-“

“I’ve said all I needed to say. I’ve done all I needed to do. If…If I die tonight, just know I died happy, okay?” Ted said nothing, so Pete continued to fight, at least to get some memorable last words out. “I’ve got a girlfriend who is the coolest person on earth, I’ve got two of the kindest people in the world as my friends and my brother is one of the best people I’ve ever met, even if those changes were only recent.” He pushed his face into his brother’s shoulder. “Fuck, this hurts-“

“You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be just fine, I promise you. You’re not gonna die, Pete-“

“But if I do…please know I mean when it when I say I’m truly happy…but speaking’s taking up too much of my energy. Please don’t make me talk anymore. I don’t wanna fight for much longer, not like this…”

Ted nodded, completely understanding him. “Just know that you’re so loved, Pete. You’ve got so many people who want you to pull through but…but I’m not in control of the world. If you can’t…” He sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to admit to himself that his brother was slipping away from him, he really didn’t. His little brother who, just a few years ago, had actually been little. Now he was tall, grown up, and doing more for himself than he’d ever be able to accomplish. Pride hardly covered how Ted felt. Pride, pity and pain. His Peter, the only good thing to come from the Spankoffski name.

It had to have been seconds later when the ambulance pulled up. He had no idea how much time had passed between him getting there and the ambulance, but it had to have been seconds after Pete requested not to talk anymore. Ted hated admitting that he couldn’t go in the ambulance with him. As much as he wanted to be there, he needed to make sure his Studebaker didn’t get robbed. Regardless as to whether it was Steph responsible for his little brother getting shot or not, he shot her a vicious look anyway. Stepping up included protecting his little brother from anyone who dare hurt him and that started with his girlfriend.

An ambulance and a Studebaker pulled away from the football field of Hatchetfield High, unread texts from Ted Spankoffski’s phone laying in the archives of his and Pete’s chat history. Steph wouldn’t know why Ted had suddenly shown up but really, it was obvious. They’d always been close, and Pete had always been smart. That was why a message to the bastard revealing the details of their plan had been sent over.

Ted, she’s going to shoot me. Please don’t worry, or try not to.

You told me to go off and play hero, so that’s what I’m doing.

Ruth and Richie are safe. Steph’s safe. I’m,,, it’s complicated.

I wish I had more time to go into detail but basically, they’re asking

for blood. They gave the gun to Steph. They want me dead. We’re

in Hatchetfield High’s football field. I’m at the bleachers. If you get

here quick enough, you may even get a final goodbye.

I love you, Teddy. More than anything.

See you in the next timeline.

But nobody would get to see those messages. They were private messages for a reason. Unless he chose to tell the kids that he knew about the plan all along, then they’d think Ted just thought Steph shot Pete for the sake of it. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.

Even if there was the slimmest chance that Ted gave up that information, even if he didn’t entirely hate her by that point, Steph would forgive him. She deserved to be hated and she knew it. She’d had a fight with Pete in the middle of a coffee shop because she couldn’t deny herself the chance to be a bitch and she’d rounded off the night by shooting him in the heart. Hurt him. She’d physically hurt him, the one thing she promised to never do and it was the one reason she hoped Ted hated her. He’d been bleeding out and now, he was gone, on his way to the hospital. There she was, stained with his DNA in a vivid watercolour painting. A masterpiece, one might say. Artwork. She was the perfect depiction of the expenses of humanity, and that moment in time just had to be framed. Where he’d coughed blood on her face, the spots were only delicate freckles. The stain on her clothing? It was his signature, to give her something to cling on to while proving she was still his. The red on her hands that came from the exit wound? It was the imagery of her being the saviour she’d always been destined to be.

He may be the hero, but she was the saviour. She’d destroy this new age before it even had a chance to begin.

Peter Spankoffski got carted off in the back of an ambulance, a baby blue Studebaker trailing off after it, and Steph couldn’t stand to stay out in the cold much longer.

She burst back through the doors leading to Hatchetfield High’s gymnasium, two pairs of eyes immediately on her.

“Holy shit, Steph! Are you bleeding?!” Richie asked, running over to her.

“Not my blood.” She forced out. “It’s…it’s-“

“Fuck, Ruth? Grab a chair and get over here!” He said, wrapping an arm around her to hopefully keep her upright. “…did you do the deal?”

She nodded. “At least, I-I think so…” She looked up into Richie’s blue eyes. “…I shot him.”

“…oh, shit.”

“I shot Peter.” She shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing. “And now he’s going to St Damien’s where…he might already be dead, I don’t know, I didn’t mean to kill him-“

Ruth ran over with a chair right as Steph’s knees buckled. Richie helped sit her down, sitting on the cold floor of the gym. Ruth went to go and grab them actual chairs to sit on, but for the meantime, this would do. “We know you didn’t. We heard what those…what those things were saying.”

“He was-he was insistent it had to be me to shoot him. He said because Wiggly dropped the gun in my lap and-“ She gently placed a hand over her mouth. “I’m just like my dad!”

“No!” Richie grabbed her hand. “No! You are nothing like that monster!”

From across the room, Ruth shouted at him. “Richie!”

“What?! Someone had to say it!”

“He’s only just died or something, if what those neon fuckers were saying was true! And it’s Steph’s dad, that’s so insensitive!”

Richie blinked. “Sorry, Steph…yeah, too soon…”

“No, it’s okay, I promise.” She wiped her eyes, smearing more of her boyfriend’s blood across her face. “But I am. My dad he…there was one bullet in the chamber. In the gun Wiggly gave me, there was only one bullet. My dad fired one shot before M-…before he died, my dad fired once so I’ve basically just recreated the thing that got him killed in the first place winding us up in this mess and-“

“Hey,” Richie looked at her. “Steph, it’s not your fault. It isn’t.”

She looked down at him as Ruth set two other chairs down on either sides of her. Richie then moved to sit next to her, Ruth sitting opposite her boyfriend. “It is my fault. If I hadn’t loved so hard, if I hadn’t wanted to save the world…all I wanted was to save the world from mass hysteria and I did that. I saved the world and I’m the villain now?” She looked around. “Where…where did Grace go?”

“Find someone, apparently, or something. I didn’t care enough to pay attention.” Ruth looked at her. “Look. Even if you will be villainised from here on out, everyone knows the villains are the sexiest people on earth! It’s just how it goes! You’re not evil, but like, if anyone dares villainise you, they’ll have me to answer to.”

“Ruth, I’d like to see you try.” Richie told her. “I really would. I’d like to see you fight on behalf of Steph Lauter.”

“Just you wait! I could do it, betcha I could!”

Steph looked down to her lap. “…I shot Pete directly in the heart. He could be dead in the back of an ambulance and I’d never know because I’m sat here wallowing over a mistake I made…and it all started with the death of Max Jagerman-“

The lights flickered for a few seconds, completely shutting off afterwards. Ruth squealed, grabbing Richie’s hand as Richie shielded Steph.

“If it’s that green bitch who happens to look weirdly like me and his brothers again then they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

A cold chill swept through the gym. “Oh. I don’t think you need to worry about summoning them again.”

The lights came back on and there, was Max Jagerman dangling upside down from the basketball hoop. “Why? Ya think I forgot about you?!”

“Shit!” Steph pushed her chair back, Richie grabbing her hand.

“Steph, he’s a ghost, what harm can he do?! Really! I’m being serious! It’s-it’s gonna be okay!”

Ruth looked at him. “Really? Richie? That sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself!”

“I’m trying here!”

“Try as ya might, what have you got against the mighty Jagerman?!” He flipped down, holding his arms out. “Hiya, Steph.”

Steph looked up at him, trying to keep his breathing controlled. She wouldn’t let him give in. She wouldn’t let him give in-

Oh shit. Fucking Nibblenephim’s little bitch boy. I completely forgot about this part.

“Oh, FUCK OFF!” She shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls.

All Max could do was laugh. “You think they’ll listen to you, Stephanie?! You think the almighties that conquered Hatchetfield will listen to you just because you want them to?!” He waggled a finger between Richie and Ruth. “Are you two hearin’ this?! Oh, it’s so innocently…disgusting.” He turned his attention back to Steph then, offering a bright smile. “Oh, Stephie. Ya really shoulda considered that prophet thing harder. It’s not as bad as you made it out to be!”

The implications. Oh god, she was thinking about the implications about what he meant by that. “…what do you mean I shoulda considered that prophet thing harder?”

Max leant against the wall, merely smirking. “I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what you mean.”

“You just said I should’ve considered the prophet thing harder, it’s not as bad as I made it out to be! What the fuck do you mean?!”

“Woah there, you delusional bitch! I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes you did! Don’t gaslight me into thinking that I’m crazy! You said I shoulda thought about the prophet thing harder! I didn’t want to do this for the sake of doing it! I did it to save the world!”

“And ya shoulda done it to bond with The Black, not to save the fucking world! This shit is fun!”

She stood up, all but running over to him. “What the fuck do you mean by that!?”

“I said nothing!”

“Stop fucking lying, yes you did! You said that being involved with The Black is fun! This is not fun!”

“Have you considered it’s because The Lords might like me?!”

Steph felt nothing but coldness run through her veins. “How fucking dare you. They’re dangerous!”

“Oh, stop trying to get me back on your good side, Stephanie!” He stepped away from her. “I’m a literal monster so let me be one! Don’t fucking try and make me a good person because that’s what you want me to be! Maybe I’m liked by the evil because I am evil and-“ The main doors leading to the gym from the rest of the school opened and in walked Grace Chasity. “-ah! There’s my Gracie! Hi, my Gracie!”

Grace looked up at him, then down. If Steph wasn’t mistaken, there was a look of guilt on Grace’s face. She’d never known Grace to be guilty. Grace Chasity always thought that she was in the right no matter the circumstance. For her to be guilty? Unheard of…and that was how Steph knew something weird was going on.

That was proven as, directly afterwards, in walked Miss Holloway, Douglas Keane walking in behind her with a glass jar in his hands.

“I told ya they’d be here, Duke.” Holloway said, shaking her head, taking the jar from her boyfriend. “This ain’t my first rodeo. I told ya, this was where they’d be.”

Max looked over, jaw awkwardly cringing. “Fuck, Gracie! Why’d ya have to go fuckin’ get ‘em!”

“You think I wanted them to find me?!” She shouted at him. “Why would I want to be found by them specifically?! I went to go cleanse myself in the bathroom after summoning Satan and they found me! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

He snarled, baring his teeth. “How can ya be so fuckin sexy and so fucking annoying?!” Just as quickly as he’d revealed the predator within, he batted his eyelashes at her. “It’s endearing. Baby, how about you and I go back to your room and we fuck this out? Kay? We can make do with what we’ve got, and I know ya don’t wanna make daddy angry.”

Richie leaned into Ruth then. “What the fuck is happening?”

“…I don’t know, but this might turn into the plot of a porno, so buckle up, babe-“

“Freaks!” Max shouted at them.

“Yeah, and?! At least I don’t call myself daddy in roleplay scenarios!” Ruth shouted back.

Max turned right back to Miss Holloway and her boytoy. “Oh, fuck! She’s got a glass fuckin’ jar! I’m gonna be rainbow dash 2.0!”

“Damn right we do, Max! It’s all over!” Holloway shouted at him.

A growl forming in his throat, his head snapped directly back to his girlfriend. “Grace! It’s all your fuckin’ fault!”

“But is it?” Miss Holloway asked. “Is it Grace’s fault? Or is it yours, Jagerman?”

“I did what I had to do, Holloway! I did what I had to do to thrive!”

“And what did that include, because I’m sure Grace didn’t need to get roped into your plans either, did she?”

Noticing every other head turned to face Grace, Max whined. “Oh, fuck, why do ya gotta ruin all my fun!”

“I would hardly call cannibalism ‘fun.’” Miss Holloway grit her teeth. “You’ve summoned them once and you’ve summoned them twice. I think it’s time that we put an end to this. Don’t you, Max?”

“But I don’t fuckin wanna!”

“Either you tell them the truth or I do.”

How about we put this back in the hands of our widdle Maxie and let him say his side of the story? I guawantee that Howwoway would fuck it up and I need to hear the violence! I need to hear the pain, the wrath and the anger! Speaking of Howwoway, why the fuck has Uncle Wiwey not done his fucking job yet?! I wish he would spin that fucking blade and slit her fucking throat-

Steph gripped at her hair, Wiggly’s voice becoming too loud to handle. “Shut up!”

Besides, I don’t want our fun to be ruined! This is so much fun! IT’S SO MUCH FUN-

“Look!” She interrupted the eldritch deity’s speech. “Peter’s on his way to St Damien’s, my head hurts and y-you’re a ghost!”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know that already though, Stephanie.”

“…what do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. You’d remember camp, wouldn’t you?” He let the thought settle in her mind before he smirked. “You look real fuckin’ hot when you’re scared, I won’t deny it. I can see why Spankoffski’s into ya. He’s not into ya for the pussy, he’s just in to pussies!”

Max cackled and Steph looked down, the realisation hitting her. Her worst thoughts had been confirmed. That had been Max’s face looking at her through the hole in the wall, and yet, she still couldn’t quite believe it. “…no.”

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart!” Max held his right hand above his head, and as he pulled it down, all of the pink drained from his body. His hair faded from that nightmarish highlighter colour back to that silvery-blonde. His eyes returned back to their sunken-in shade of hazel. His jacket flipped from the blush pink back to the signature Nighthawks blue, and his jeans returned to their bleach-washed design, even if blood splattered every single part of him. When he looked down, though, he frowned. “Aww. The platforms fucked off as well…was kinda enjoying being 6’6 too. At least I know Nibbly makes good fashion choices-“

“What did you do?!” She shouted at him. “I don’t have time to listen to you joking around! What the hell have you done!?”

“What was right! I did the only thing I knew how to! Had it not been for your fucking father putting that fucking bullet in my fucking head, we wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be stuck in this cycle, would we?! It wasn’t my fault your dad, though as rich as he was, was so money hungry!”

“I tried to save you!”

“I was there when I died and Stephie, I can tell you, no the fuck you did not. Stop trying to make yourself the heroine of a story that isn’t yours. You are no saviour. You’re a lot of words beginning with S, I’ll admit, but saviour isn’t one of them.” He took a wide step, closing the distance between them. “Wanna know who is a saviour, though?”

“No.”

“Me. I am. Because with my newfound power that I was gifted by Lord Nibblenephim, I was able to open Gracie’s eyes to the truth! Sure, it took murdering Gabe Kilten, Noah Adams and Mary Michaels to do it but! I still got my way! After all, a pretty boy like me isn’t just a cannibalistic henchman!”

Whatever sadness that remained in Steph’s soul evaporated by that point. “You’re what?!”

He looked down at her. “Oh, I thought you figured it out by now.” He stepped away. “By the way, Holloway, that glass jar won’t work! It only works on ghosts, and I’m basically the opposite. My heart don’t beat but I’m nothing like The Waylons, though they’re sick dudes! Sick as in dead, but also sick as in-“

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!” Steph screamed at him.

Max leaned against the wall back by that basketball hoop, his wild grin returning. “I believe the term you’d prefer to use to describe someone like me might be…The Axe Man?”

With a flick of his wrist, a very large axe sat firm in his grasp. It was almost…like a scythe. In fact, as Steph looked closer, she noticed that the blade resembled something of a crossbreed between a hatchet and…oh fuck that was a scythe.

“You clever girl, Stephie!” Max told her. “The grim reaper transports the souls of the dead from the living world to the underworld. The Max Man transports the souls of the dead to…” He shrugged. “Yeah, I s’pose you could say a cannibal. Because he can only walk the earth once a year, it’s up to me to provide him with a fresh food source! So, you see, I had to kill them so The Black could thrive.” Menacingly, his tongue ran over his teeth. “Want me to name names for you? I’m sure you’d like to hear ‘em!”

“Max, she gets the idea, stop showing off.” Grace said in a voice not quite her own.

He did it anyway. “Gabriel Kilten for being a dirty dude. Noah Adams because I’ve never seen a make out session go so horrendously backwards. Mary Michaels for the exact same reason. Jeri Woods because she was a shit counsellor and I have done more than pray upon her death. Uh, then who was-oh yeah! Kyle Clauger for dating Brenda behind my back. Brenda Campbell for trying to dissolve the rules I put into place here at Hatchetfield High. Jason Jepsen for trying to get with my Gracie even though she’s my girlfriend and then Trevor Coulson. But not technically. Gracie let the sandbag drop. I just tied the rope. Oh! And your dad’s hot assistant and your dad-I killed your dad too. I mean, the bitch stood no chance…nobody does after being having their skull shattered by a bullet, a stake through their heart.” He noticed how silence fell on the room and he shrugged. “Look, it happened to me. It’s my trauma, I can fuckin’ joke about it.”

“Jokes are meant to be funny, Max. That was not.” Grace hissed.

He ignored her. “And, fortunately for you all, you’ll all forget this conversation because you’re next-“

“Wait.” Richie hesitantly spoke up. “Uh…Holding Court With The Void…we did that to drag Max down to hell, right?”

Steph looked at him, nodding. “…we did.”

“And that green guy said if you gave blood or gave up the thing you cherished most, he’d take Max. Right?”

Ruth chimed in then. “Wait, yeah! And-and Steph, you just…”

Max leant against the wall once more, the blade of his hatchet-scythe casually leaning against his shoulder. “You forget that I’m a henchman for Nibblenephim, right? Why would Wiggly drag me down to Hell? I’m doing God’s work, literally.”

“…that wasn’t the deal.” Steph stared ahead. “THAT WASN’T THE DEAL!”

For once, Wiggly spoke up right on time.

Uh oh, Stephie! It appears there’s been…a fault.

“What the fuck do you mean there’s been a fault?! I gave up the thing I cherished the most! I gave you blood! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S BEEN A FAULT?!”

How about you ask Bliklotep’s prophet instead? I’m sure she’d know.

Steph could all but feel her heart stop as, mechanically, her head turned to face Grace. “You.” She spat. “What the fuck did you do?”

She stared at Steph with those guilty eyes of hers. As seconds ticked on, her expression melted away to reveal a smirk almost identical to Max’s. “I gave up the thing I cherished most. My chastity. Max hardcore fucked me into my mattress, leaving me begging for more-

“And how can I already be dragged down to Hell when I already live there?! Like, where do you think I am when I’m not murdering people?! I’m in The Black scheming with Nibbly, obviously! Talking about how much we hate you, how much we hate Holloway and how much we hate nerdy prudes. And like, only one person Holding Court With The Void needed to give up the thing they cherished most, and Gracie just so happened to have already done that. So, unfortunately for you, you guys are ne-“

He didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, for all Steph saw was red. Like a rodeo bull, she charged forward to the melody of Miss Holloway’s chants, trying to hold her back. Nothing could hold her back though.

She paid the price, now he was gonna fuck off.

Steph said nothing but shoved him, and suddenly, gripping his jacket, staring directly into his eyes, they were falling back through the floor. Down, down, down. Spiralling forever onwards. Fine. If Wiggly wasn’t going to drag Max down to Drowsy Town, then she supposed she’d just have to do it herself.

With nothing but darkness surrounding them and no floor to land on, one thought crossed her mind.

For him.

No longer would she feel guilty for fighting. No longer would she feel guilty for him falling. No longer would she guilty for pushing her way to become the saviour. This ended tonight. This ended now, and he was going to end with it.

After all. It was for the best.

Chapter Text

Falling, falling, falling, and then they weren’t.

Max Jagerman hit the ground, the red waves of The Black lapping at him happily, like a dog when its owner returned home. His hatchet-scythe dissolved into nothing as he scuttled back away from Steph, who was already standing back up, striding over to him. “Hey! Now, Steph, we can talk about this-“

“TALK!?” She shouted. “I just shot my boyfriend in hopes of dragging you down to Hell just to figure out that you’re not only already here, but the ritual had already been complete! And I don’t even know what’s gonna happen to him! He could be dead. HE COULD BE DEAD-!”

“He won’t die!” Max said, managing to stand up. “I’ll make sure of that! Nibbly’ll listen to me! He gets fed and he’ll leave you all alone-“

“So you’re suddenly playing the good guy because you got caught out, is this what you’re like now?! You can’t even stick to a side you chose to play for! Talk about being a pathetic excuse of a quarterback! You are no team player! You’re a piece of shit!”

“Steph, come on! I had to do this! You’d do the same if you were me!”

She struck him across the jaw. Hard. “I’d stay dead. No life is worth living knowing I’d succumb to evil.”

“I didn’t succumb to evil, I’m just following orders and my orders now are to get rid of every nerdy fucking prude on the planet!”

“Yet you want me dead!” She grabbed a hold of the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to her height. “And I’m neither a nerd or a prude. You want to murder for fun, you son of a bitch!”

He looked into her eyes. Noticing how watery they were, he was already doing his job quite well. This would be over in no time. “And so what!? It puts me on a higher level of status than I’ve ever been on! I’m the all powerful! I’m-“

She punched him again. “You are not god before you even dare to say it. You, like me, are human, and when you will die you will rot. Your skeleton-“

“Aww, fock, Steph. Don’t fockin mention skeli’ins round me, you know I’m so fockin’ scared of skeli’ins-“

“I don’t fucking care!” She kneed him in the crotch, dropping him to the floor. “You have tortured my life ever since you died! I never wished for you to die! I never wished for you to jump in front of me, you did that on your own accord! But why did you do it, huh?! Why did you jump in front of me!? Why did you let him shoot you?!”

“Because!” Max lay there, curled up on the floor, only slightly weak from the pain. “You’d get to live on!”

“I get to live on just so you can take my life!? How does that make sense?!” She shouted at him. She noticed something in his eyes, then. Recognition. The fact he knew she was right. The fact he already knew she was winning, because that was all she could do. Win. She had to win. For herself, for Ruth, for Richie and Pete, she had to win. “If you wanted to protect me, if you wanted me to live in then why are you trying to kill me yourself!?”

Very slowly, he sat himself up. “I…I don’t know.”

“No, I know you don’t because you’re fucking stupid! It’s always gotta be about Max! This has always gotta be about Max and Max’s antics! You lie there and you tell me that you’re not evil but before you died, I knew you’d never want to fucking hurt me! At least…I liked to think you wouldn’t.” She joined him, kneeling down in the blood of The Black’s past victims. She placed her hands on her knees, looking at him. “I’m not doing this to try to convince you to change. I’m doing this to hope there’s a chance that we can break away because I don’t wanna live like this anymore, Max. I’m sure you don’t either.”

He let his lips curl back in a tight snarl. “You have no idea what I want-“

“No, I do. You wanted safety, you wanted security, you wanted to be loved. You wanted for your dad to see that you weren’t an awful kid. You wanted to be smart and financially stable. You wanted to be the quarterback of the Nighthawks and you wanted to be feared. You wanted to be feared, because then you had the power to dominate the school. But did you? Did you want to be feared? Or did you just want to be heard?”

Max looked at her. “I know what you’re trying to do. S-Steph, I’m happy like this! I’m happy being something to someone! I’m important! I’m cared about here! I’ve always been cared about in Nibblenephim’s grasp!”

“And I thought that me dealing my life away to Wiggog Y’Wrath would mean he ceased to rule over the dimension we came from! Max, it was true, but only because the dolls got destroyed! He didn’t stop ruling, though, because he lived on through me! He took over my body and made me murder! I am not a murderer and you know it! And neither are you!”

“The blood’s on my hands, Steph. Yes I am.”

“You wouldn’t go that far if it wasn’t for the fact you’d dealt with Nibblenephim!”

Leave the conversation, Maxie.

Max heard Nibblenephim’s orders loud and clear. He got up, beginning to walk away.

Did you know that if I had a dollar for every time you ended up falling resulting in you landing in The Black, I would have three dollars which honestly is not a lot but it’s strange that it has happened thrice-

“Shut up,” he whispered to him. “I’ve got this.”

As long as you play by my rules, I have no doubt that you won’t fail me.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, Max!” Steph got up off the floor, chasing after him. “Stop and just fucking listen to me for a moment! Please! Because I know you’re not a murderer and I’d know you’d never want to murder me!”

“Times change, Stephanie.” He told her, keeping his back to her. “You know that better than anyone. It wasn’t like you’d have willingly gone for Peter Spankoffski if he hadn’t fucked up his own life playing hero. Would you? You’ve always been into the bold and beautiful. It’s why you were into me-“

“I was never into you!” She shouted at him. That was the one thing that got him to stop walking. Him, and his damaged pride.

He chuckled lowly, turning back to face her. “Don’t lie to yourself. I’m Max Jagerman. Everyone’s into me.”

“Yeah? Consider me an exception, then because, I am not into you, and I don’t think I ever was.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I was struggling with differentiating my feelings between platonic, familial and romantic. Sure, I love you, and I love Peter. I love you both more than life itself and I would do anything I could to ensure that you two got to live on but I love him like he’s my boyfriend, I love you like you’re my brother…why do you think I was so willing to open up my home to you when you needed a place to sleep?!”

Don’t listen to her. She’s using you. Do you want to be another member of the used, Maxie?

“Max, you needed protection and you always came to me to protect you! Even when we were both in danger, you still turned to me! When I was in danger, you jumped in front of me and lost your life as a result! Sure, be mad at me for that, because I didn’t react quick enough to stop you from doing something as stupid as that but don’t be mad at me because I can’t reciprocate those feelings! I still love you. I’ve always loved you.”

I can feel you slipping, Max. Don’t betray me. You won’t like what’s to come from it if you do.

“And I know you’ve always loved me. Don’t think I forgot about the time you beat up Brad Callahan because he spread that first rumour about me. About me and my mom back in 2015…don’t think I forgot what you’ve done for me.”

WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU-

“I beat Brad Callahan up because he’s a dickhead who needs to be put back in his fucking place! I didn’t do it for you!”

“Maybe that’s the case, or maybe you’re telling yourself that because you can’t admit to yourself you care about someone so much you’d hurt other people so they could feel the pain I was in instead of me!” She exhaled, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I can’t say I agree with every single one of your decisions, because I don’t, but do you know what I agree with?” She waited for him to answer. He never did, staring off at the blood-covered floor. “I agree with the fact that everybody deserves a second chance.”

“Oh, you think I could ever come back from this?”

“Did you commit murder because of your own free will? Or did someone send you to do their dirty work on their behalf?”

Don’t answer that. You wanted this.

“I wanted this,” he repeated back to her. He turned around, holding his arms out. “I wanted this, Steph! I wanted to live this life!”

“You wanted to become the definition of evil? Of a psychopath?! Because the last time I checked, Max, the last time we had a conversation regarding evil, your dad’s name cropped up. A lot.”

He flinched then. “I am not my father! I WILL NEVER BE HIM!”

She remained calm. “Yet you are killing people, torturing them just because you can! Sure, I know that you were a bully and you’d torture people when you were alive anyway but I know you and I know you would never murder anyone. It’d make you just like your dad-“

“STOP IT, STEPH!”

“-and I know you’re nothing like him. Unlike Gregory Jagerman, you have a heart.” She held her hand out to him. “I’m not trying to change you because I can. I’m trying to free you. I’m not trying to equip you to my team, I’m trying to free you from the god in your mind who’s telling you what’s best for you.”

Ignore her, Maxie! She’s a liar and you know it!

“They can feed you whatever they want to, they can gaslight you into thinking this is the right decision but while you still have your mind, you still know what’s best for you!”

“This is best for me!”

“Considering I’m experiencing it myself, I can tell you that this is not for the best. There are other ways. There are other procedures we can complete to ensure that we become free, that we become human again.”

He grit his teeth. “Steph, I’m dead. Even if I could magically come back to life, if I could go back to earth then who said I’d exist?! My body died! I don’t exist in that dimension without Nibblenephim’s assistance! I could cease to exist!”

“Yet you’re alive here.” She closed the gap between them then, looking at him.

“Don’t even fucking think of punching me again.”

“I can be as mad as I want, but it’s what Wiggly wants me to be. I’m fighting so hard to keep calm when all I want is to kick your fucking head in, do you understand?”

“…yeah, I hear ya.”

“Normal people don’t just enter The Black and White without significant consequences. Me and Peter have been here before. We fell through it temporarily and crashed the boundary that closed off one dimension from the next. We broke the rules of time and space and-and now he could be dead. He could be dead, and if he dies, then Pokotho’s down a prophet, or something. Normal people can’t exist in The Black and White.”

“So what?! We suddenly become normal?! I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

She looked up at him. “No. But we need to embrace your normal for this to work. You need to fight against what they’ve been telling you, about what you’ve been telling yourself…now, I never thought I’d say this but…punch me.”

“Are you fucking insane?!”

“As a matter of fact, yes I am! I am being driven insane by the fact there’s a bastard in my head who keeps telling me shit I don’t want to hear to anger me! If I start this fight then I won’t be the one to blame!”

I’m ashamed you’d think of me as a bastard, Stephanie. You have no idea what you are doing. This plan will fail you.

“So punch me, Max! If you want to fight back, if you want to give yourself a second chance then fucking punch me!”

He looked down to his fists, which eh could already feel were closing. “…and you know this is gonna hurt like a bitch right?”

“What? The fact I’m about to go up against the quarterback of the Hatchetfield Nighthawks?” She nodded. “I know. I’m an idiot. I’m a complete and utter fool but if there is one thing I will do, then it is fight to get the result I want and I don’t care who I’ve gotta fight to achieve that. Right now, I wanna free myself from Wiggly, you from Nibblenephim, Pete from Pokotho and Ted from T’Noy Karaxis! I’m sure if you care enough about Grace, you’d wanna free her from Bliklotep too, wouldn’t you?!”

Max tensed. “I was the one to hire her into the team. It’s my fault she’s in this mess.”

“And it’s probably hurting her, seeing so much at once! She has fucking autism! I’m not saying she’s a good person, because no she’s not, but overstimulating someone deliberately isn’t what you would ever do!”

“No, I did it to Peter once…”

Steph felt her heart ache. “And now Pete’s bleeding out in the back of an ambulance because of what you did.”

Please tell Miss Lauter that her boyfriend’s blood is delicious, as I suspected it’d be.

He shook his head, ignoring Nibbly’s call. “I had to and you know it.”

“No. You didn’t have to. You didn’t have to do anything back then, but you do have to do shit now. To prove to me that you are not evil, you need to punch me. To prove to yourself that you’re not evil then punch me! Fucking do it, Max! FUCKING HIT ME!”

No longer hesitating, he punched her across the face, hitting her right cheek. There was a tingling sensation in the back of his mouth. That was new.

What are you doing!?

“I’m doing what’s right!” He shouted at Nibbly. As Steph recollected herself, he noticed she spat out what appeared to be shards of glass.

She hacked them up into the palm of her hand, and seemed to excitedly look back up at him. “Do it again! Beat me up, Max!”

“I don’t want to hurt you though, Steph!”

“See! It’s already working! I know for a fact Nibbly wouldn’t have let you say that if it was up to him so go! Do it! You’re breaking free from him! Do it, Max!”

“…and you know this’ll be the only time I ever apologise for beating someone up?”

“Yes, but we’re losing time by stalling, fucking do it!”

He wound his fist back. “Just know I love you too. Even if I’ve been shit at showing it, I love you too. Thank you for at least trusting me to save myself. I know other people won’t.” He threw another punch, and then another and another. Every time he did, more fragments of Stephanie Lauter broke off, turning into glass. Every time, even though pain ruled in her vision, she smiled at him reassuringly (and also somewhat maniacally.)

This was the right road to ruin. This was the end.

The Black wasn’t happy about the script closing in on itself, though.

Considering the realm was a pocket of nothing that stretched on for eternity with no ceiling or floor, it was uncharacteristic to call it a living thing. That was what it was, though. It remained alive in rumours and its reputation. People often talked about a space between every timeline, every millisecond and every galaxy that was pure darkness. In that darkness was only one light -  a singular lightbulb that swung with no rhythm above a singular oak table that hosted six chairs. It was the only furniture that’d be found within the realm. It’d be the only light anyone would be lucky to find. Finding that light, however, was not a sign of hope. To find The Lords’ table meant to find the end of their soul. Nothing would come from them. Nothing would proceed.

Originally known as the Nothing, The Black and White had been accidental. It hadn’t been intended to be created for with the power of nothing came the power to kill. Within millennia, The Black found itself inhabiting more than it could handle. Having started as a blank space, it had been excited to see whatever creatures that may discover it would use it for. As a blank canvas, it was merely inanimate. It had no control over itself. It only had the power to provide. It had no idea what its purpose was. Not until the wars began.

Six figures took over the Nothing right around 1824. They had been classy. They had been elegant. They had been regal. They were royalty, and the Nothing were to treat them as such. When the oldest male out of the six had approached it for a space, the Nothing gave it to him. When he had banished one of his siblings from his quarters for failing to comply, the Nothing gave her something to. Henceforth, the Nothing split in two. From that day froward, the Nothing became The Black and White.

The Black and White stretched on and would never end, but there was no even split. The Lords in Black occupied most of that realm, refusing to let up any more space for their older sister. They were blatantly evil. Nobody could get past them. Their rules went, and their rules stood as the leading guidelines on how to paint The Black. The Black and White had once been a blank canvas, eager to see who would be the person to make their mark. To be the first person to paint dainty brushstrokes on the source material would be the one to own it and the Nothing had looked forward to it. Now, it was covered in blood and five neon coloured murder-obsessed beings who would refuse to let up.

Blood tarnished The Black, turning it to a realm filled with mess, murder and mythology. Humanity evolved below their feet, claiming that there was a higher power who would grant them peace after death but only if they behaved. If they did not, then they would be dragged down to hell, but where was hell? As far as The Black was concerned, it already lived and breathed the seventh layer of Satan’s home. Satan’s home, if Satan was split between five souls, each more neon than the next.

Not all was bad within the Nothing, though. There was, of course, the opposite to The Black where the exiled lived. To spite her sisters, she had named it The White. There lived the only good thing to come from the split. Her brothers may be big, but she was bigger and therefore, the better person (even if she wasn’t quite human.) She overlooked the good behind her moss-covered walls that she had built over time so the blood couldn’t plague the waters of her realm. She helped to free those who needed freedom. Try as she might, though, the person who needed to be helped the most was in The Black, somewhere she would never re-enter again. Though it left her in a difficult position, she knew she had eyes on the outside.

She had eyes in the form of Miss Holly-Aloisa Holloway.

On the floor of Hatchetfield High’s gymnasium, Miss Holloway let that glass jar shatter against the floor as she dropped it. An inky black puddle bubbled on the floor where Max and Steph had fallen. They’d fallen directly into The Black. They were in immense trouble and if she did not intervene, then that would be the end of them as they knew it.

Quickly, she scooped up The Black Book from the floor, trembling as she felt the object exert its power back on to her. Knelt down, she looked up to Duke. “Make sure the kids keep away from-“ she gestured to the puddle behind on.

He nodded. “On it, darlin, uh…what do you want me to do? How can I help?”

She pointed to the fire exit in the gym. “Take ‘em out on the field. Find the gun that Stephanie shot Peter with. Make sure they do not come back in or approach this room. I need to…I need to do something myself, and I don’t want ‘em to see the result.”

“Okay…you’re gonna be okay, right?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been through worse, ain’t I?”

“I guess you’re right.” Duke rushed over to Grace, ushering her to the other side of the gym, where, once close enough to the other two teenagers, got Ruth and Richie to safety too.

The metal doors swung close leaving nothing but Miss Holloway and the jet-black puddle that served as a portal to The Black. Away. She needed to get away from it herself. Never again would she encounter The Black. At least, not after tonight.

She got herself in the middle of the gym, front and centre under the lights. She cracked open The Black Book, skimming through the pages, chanting to herself until she landed on a page she’d written herself.

Originally, like The Black, it had been blank. When she had been gifted it, she hadn’t been told not to write in it, so she wrote down some essential notes she could never forget them. It mimicked the realm itself. Though The Black stretched on for eternity, it was cornered off by a slither known only to very few people as The White. Those who ran into The Lords tended to only run into The Lords. They never tended to run into The Lady, and therefore, they’d never get to meet The Queen.

Holloway’s eyes skimmed her own handwriting and she wasn’t surprised when, about half way down the page, she saw a tiny white spider crawling towards her. She held out her left hand, waiting for the spider to crawl on to her and then, she bought the spider up to her face. The gym lit itself up in a bright white. Suddenly, Holloway could hear the sound of the sea against the shore and she could feel her jeans getting wetter by the minute. As her vision readjusted to the new realm, she sighed in relief. She wasn’t kneeling in blood. She was leaning in water.

She turned around to see grey brick built up to the ceiling, vines and moss growing through the cracks. On their side of the wall were tiny flowers that grew, the signs of hope. Lifting herself up, clutching The Black Book to her chest, she noticed the castle before her. While The Black only had one table, one set of chairs and one light, The White differed. The White’s main structure was a stone castle built by the spider herself that looked like something pulled out of a fairytale. Surely if a castle remained standing tall, then it had to be fit for a queen.

Holloway saw her in the floor of The White before she saw her in her physical form. She watched as an ethereal being descended a spiralling staircase on the exterior of her castle in the reflective-material that could be named as the ground of the good. The waves that splashed against Miss Holloway’s sneakers were welcoming, unlike the waves outside the wall. The realm stretched on for eternity, and though the liquid was shallow, there was still another blood to form waves in The Black. At least The Queen In White had more sense.

Her long, white dress dragged through the light-blue reflecting pool that the floor was made up of. She was pale, but not pale in the way Pokotho was. She was pale in the human way. In fact, had it not been for her three sets of arms and the six eyes on her face, she could easily pass as one of their own. Her long white hair glistened, dew drops clinging on to her bangs. The dress she wore, she had made it herself, spun out of old silk from fallen webs. It was an off-the-shoulder dress with a slight cape that gave way for her six arms. On each hand were rings and bracelets made of veins, some with different coloured flowers on. On her feet, Holloway noticed she was wearing an anklet made of vine. It made sense. Nature had always attracted itself to The Spider,

Letting the skirt of her dress drop, she knelt down on the floor, the water rippling. She was much larger than Holloway was, but what could one expect from a literal god? Webby smiled, tucking two strands of her snow-white hair behind her ears. “Miss Holloway. I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”

“It’s been years, Webby. I’d hardly call it soon.”

“Time moves differently here, don’t forget.”

“Not like I could.” Holloway looked down to the book in her hands, then back to her friend. “…I need a favour. From you.”

Webby’s eyes blinked, starting with the top row, then the middle, then the bottom. “It depends on what that favour is. I can do my best to make it happen, but I can’t make any promises…”

“…I’m in a little bit of a…situation. Regarding your brothers.”

“If you are asking me to go back to them, I was exiled. You know I cannot do that, Holly.”

“I’m not asking you to do that. What I am asking is that you help to free six citizens on the island of their connections to The Lords.”

“Now that I can do.” Webby cracked her knuckles. “Who needs to be freed?”

“From what I know, Peter Spankoffski from Pokotho, Stephanie Lauter from Wiggog Y’Wrath, Ted Spankoffski from T’Noy Karaxis, Maxwell Jagerman from Nibblenephim, Grace Chasity from Bliklotep and…myself from all of them.”

Webby looked down at her, cautiously tilting her head. “…are you sure?”

“I…I’ll be honest with ya. I’ve met a guy, and he’s absolutely amazing. I want to be with him. I no longer wish to live out this life. I was naïve when I made the deal…I was only a child. I no longer wish for immortality. I wish to forget about them. I wish to live a mortal life…and I want my diner back. I don’t like being a school guidance counsellor. How can I, Miss Retro, be a retro person without my diner?!” She ran a hand through her hair.

“I am detecting there is another reason though, isn’t there, Miss Holloway?”

She hesitated for only a second before she nodded. “Young Mister Jagerman…he’s troubled. I read through his files. I heard from Duke what people think about him. He is being…he won’t admit it to himself but yes, I suppose that he is being abused by his father, who is his only living parent. He has no other family aside from Henry Hidgens, who isn’t even his biological father. When I spoke to young mister Jagerman I found that…there was more to him than I initially thought. I wish to be the one to save him, and I can’t do that if I’m burdened with this curse.”

Webby tilted her neck, looking around. “…here’s something my brothers don’t know. If I can cleanse The Black of its blood, then I can cleanse whoever’s touched The Black…for a price.”

“What would that price be? How extravagant are we discussing?”

“I know you, Miss Holloway, and I know you have only ever used The Black Book for the sake of the greater good which is why I will offer you this. To rid yourself and the five others of their connections to The Black, to save your lives from their anger, their sadistic tactics…I’m asking you to become my prophets instead. Then I would be able to protect you from my brothers even if I am…not as powerful when I go up against them.”

Holloway thought about it. “…what does it entail for me? The other five are human, but that’s not quite me. How does this deal regard me?”

Webby gestured to the book in her arms then. “You get to keep the book, you get to keep your powers and everyone around you gets to keep their memories of you. You get your diner, you get to keep your magic, and you get to keep your mortality. I will swap everything out for your ideal life, but I know you enjoy being the protector of Hatchetfield. Am I right?”

“I will say, it is…interesting, and not an opportunity you get on any given day.”

“Exactly.” Webby outstretched a hand. “Will you become my prophet to swap out your immortality to save the lives of yourself and everyone else who my brothers dare fuck with?”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation. Holloway outstretched her hand, clasping it with Webby’s.

Then, she was falling, falling, falling. Then, like everything that had occurred in the time before The Black, there was nothing.

Nothing, except Douglas Keane finding an unconscious body in the middle of Hatchetfield High’s gymnasium. Nothing but the firearm that had been used to shoot Peter Spankoffski evaporating into thin air. Nothing but Max Jagerman and Stephanie Lauter falling through the ceiling of Hatchetfield High, landing in the gym beside Holloway.

There may be nothing to them, but everything had only just begun. Everything had only just begun a week later.

When Stephanie Lauter’s eyes initially opened, she thought she was dead. She thought she was in certain heaven. That was, until, her vision cleared, adjusting to the bright white lights of St Damien’s. There was almost a ringing in her ears. She said almost because it had begun to tidy itself up into words she was struggling to comprehend.

“Hey. She’s waking up.”

“She’s waking up?!” She felt a hand slide into hers. “Steph?! Steph, can you hear me?! Steph?”

She turned her head in the voice’s direction, the white clearing up as her eyes focused on his face. Her eyes, which soon blurred due to the tears.

“Hey,” he said, his voice clearer then. “Hey, it’s okay. Can…are you hurting? Can you-“

“Give her time,” another voice said. “I know you’re worried but she just woke up, so give her time.”

Steph, however, squeezed his hand like there was no tomorrow. “I am so sorry,” she whispered to him.

“You did what you had to do. And do you know what you did?” He watched as she ran her eyes over him, waiting for that response. “Steph, you saved the world. I-I mean, that makes the both of us but-“

Nothing mattered in that moment. Not her own health or how tired she felt. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could, her tears soaking the collar of his shirt. “You’re okay?” She managed to tell him.

He nodded, hugging her back, burying his face back into her shoulder. “I uh…the doctors said I healed surprisingly fast and I’ve been discharged for a couple days…I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“…me?”

“Actually,” a third voice said. “That would be me.”

Steph looked over to see Miss Holloway at the door, a satchel over her shoulder. More tears fell from her eyes as she sat back up. “You…you saved him?”

“Him, you and everyone else. No more Lords for you guys.” She nodded in the direction of the two men. “Theodore. Peter.”

“Miss Holloween.”

She offered them a gentle smile, turning her attention to Steph. “I’m only here for a quick visit because I’m needed next door but I detected you woke up and I figured that you’d want answers. Assuming you have questions, that is.” She paused for a second, gesturing to the empty seat beside Ted. “Mind if I sit with you, Stephanie?

Steph shook her head, leaning entirely into Pete. “I thought you were dead,” she told him in her shaking tone.

“So did I,” he admitted, holding her close. “But here I am, with you, alive…you want me to sit on that bed with you? You look uncomfortable?”

“Mhmm. That’d be great.”

Pete moved from his uncomfortable chair to Steph’s bed then, holding her in his arms. “Oh yeah. This is better.”

She nodded in agreement, looking over to Miss Holloway or…Holloween? “…I’m alive.”

“And so is Peter, and so is Max. He’s alive too. He’s currently with Duke. He’s alright.”

“Oh, thank fuck. And I-I know I just woke up but I’ve never felt more awake and…what happened?”

“I’ll gladly tell you.” She smiled at Steph. “We’re still prophets-“

“What?!”

“-of The Lords’ sister, Webby. She’s The Queen In White. She’s a good guy and she won’t let those bastards touch you or anyone else again. To the generic public, though, they believe Miss Holliday was found dead in Hatchetfield High’s gym so we’ve had a slight name change. Do you think you’d be able to stick with calling me Miss Holloween?”

“…it’s badass.” Steph admitted.

“And do you wanna know what else is badass? Had I not intervened, you and Max would have already broken your bonds with The Lords anyway. You were on the right track. Duke said you two were covered in glass when I found you.”

“Glass like…like when we shattered through this world…”

Holloween nodded. “Exactly. Some other questions I’m sure you’re wondering right now probably are in regards to your classmates and your friends. The dead, unfortunately, couldn’t be revived.”

“Max didn’t make it?!” Steph asked.

Pete hugged her tighter. “No, he’s alive. She means Brenda, Kyle, Girl Jeri…ya know?”

“Oh…but Max is alive?”

She nodded. “Max is alive, so is Grace. Oh! And Ruth Fleming and Richie Lipschitz are okay as well. They’re confused, but they’re more than okay in themselves. They’ve been swinging round to check on you.”

“They have, I can confirm.” Pete told her. “They’d go visit you then come back and Ruth would say that if only I wasn’t in hospital, then you could’ve had a sleeping beauty moment. I told her that was weird, because Aurora was under the influence and couldn’t consent. Ruth then told me I was ruining her fun.”

“Sounds like her…”

Holloween started speaking again. “Grace is-“

“I don’t give a shit about Grace. I hate her fuckin’ guts. How’s Max?”

Gladly, she smiled. “Max is doing really well. Still battered, still bruised and in a little bit of a tricky situation. Duke finally gained enough evidence to turn in to the HFPD regarding his father. I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.”

Steph nodded again before her eyes widened. She wiped more tears away, looking directly at the witch. “But he’s only 17! Where’s he gonna go?! He ain’t got no one else!”

“Correction. He didn’t have anyone before this…I may have had to pull some imaginary strings but Max Jagerman is no more. Max Holloween, however, is. He’s a powerful kid and I could sense something in him when we spoke for the very first time. No doubt about it, I believe that The Lords would try time and time again to torture him. I find it necessary to keep him close to me, especially after what he’s been through. The side effects of cannibalism are…not fantastic.”

“…you adopted him?”

“Not officially, but yes, that’ll be the plan. Duke’s getting things arranged and if I have to pull some more strings to speed things along, then I will.”

“…you’re gonna keep him safe?”

“Honey, I’m a witch. He’s in the safest hands with me and I’ll make sure he knows that. He’s in safe hands with both me and Duke. Now, as for you, Stephanie…I can only apologise about your guardianship.”

Steph blinked, looking down. “Look. Dad’s left me on my own so many times before it…I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” said Ted. “I know you’ll be fuckin’ fine. You’ll be staying with me.”

She looked up at him. “…no, you can’t do that. I don’t deserve that-“

“Pete got on his hands and knees and literally begged me after he heard you didn’t have anyone else to go to.” Ted sighed. “I’m not happy about what you did to my little bro but…you had to do it to save the world. The least I can offer you is some sort of advice and some sort of protection. I mean, you make him happy enough. I may as well take this leap and let you stay with us, right?”

The younger Spankoffski cleared his throat. “You forgot something.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry for being a bitch, Steph, but your dad left your fuckin’ Pinebrook mansion in his will. Do you-“

“Can we move into your home with you?” Pete asked her, cutting Ted off. “…it’s your home. Our apartment isn’t a real home and you like it there and-“