Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Six swipes a sleeve at her mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste of blood still on her tongue. 

“Pah!” 

Monsters don’t ever taste good, but the Tall Man tastes the worst of all. 

Really bitter, really sour. Two tastes that shouldn’t go together and are leaving her fighting the urge to puke. Ugh. 

Trying not to puke while running isn’t great. But she can’t stop. Not with the Tall Man on her tail. Waiting for her to slip up, to recapture her. 

She pants. She runs. Through halls of endless gray, lit up by strange purple and red lighting. There are doors, but not many, easy for her to push through. There are stairs, all leading up, but she tries to avoid those because what if there’s no way down. 

Nowhere to hide. Six isn’t sure that hiding would work on the monster chasing her either. 

Because...

The scary thing about the Tall Man is that he’s clever. Smart in a way other monsters aren’t. 

Normal monsters go after whoever ran last, if they see kids running to hide. They’re also really loud about when they find a hidden kid. Not that it really saves many kids, that loudness. But it gives everyone else time to get away, if that caught kid isn’t alone. 

Monsters aren’t the best at looking into things either. Or under. Comes with being big instead of small like real people are. 

If it followed normal monster rules, then Mono would have been dead. 

Instead the Tall Man had looked around. Looked at her. Looked and reached, and pulled her out. Leaving the other kid alone completely, even though they all saw him see Mono run and hide. Barely skidding to safety under his spot under the bed.  

Instead she was yanked away. Dragged into the TV screen screaming, taken apart piece by piece and refitted back together with a roar of static. 

He seemed to pick her out specifically and she has no idea why. And not knowing is terrifying. 

(Not knowing is death.)

Six hates to admit it, but there’s a lot of luck to her escape. 

Like how extreme the Tall Man’s reaction was to her biting him, pretty much tossing her across the room instead of tightening his grip. Like how she managed to land on her legs and elbows, taking the hard impact somewhere that wouldn’t break anything serious. Skinning her knees is a small price to pay. 

Hurt a lot? Yes. But she wouldn’t have survived as long as she has if she let hurt stop her from getting back onto her feet to run. 

Run where, Six has no idea. Only that she has to get away. Away from the thumping and hissing that announces the Tall Man’s presence. A steady throb that follows her, no matter how many turns and twists she takes. 

Another problem: she can’t run forever. Not like how the Tall Man can apparently walk forever after her. 

What does she do?

First, find a way out. A door that leads outside, any kind of window, a vent maybe... anything. Not that her surroundings have been helpful in that, with how similar everything looks. 

If Six didn’t know better, she would say this place is laughing at her. Going along with the weird purple light that makes her eyes go all funny when there’s too much of it. 

There have been TVs, in her path, as she runs. Most of them are out of reach, crackling down at her. 

Here, now, she slows. Next to a TV that’s been tucked away in the corner, a little bit off the main path. She eyes it carefully. Blinks back the gray fuzziness that always tries to take over her head when staring at a TV for too long. 

Slowly, Six reaches out. Presses her hand against it. Both hands. Warm to touch. 

Mono could do something with the TVs, and would fall into them if she weren’t there to pull him out. 

(She almost didn’t get to him in time, the last time. When the Tall Man appeared.)

What if...she could reach back somehow?

“Mono,” she whispers to the screen, the first and only time she’s used his name out loud. “ Mono. ”

Impossibly the TV almost seems to croon the name back. Whispering almost familiar words as she presses herself closer against the fizzing gray. Some faint part of her mind wonders if this is what Viewers feel, watching their screens. 

Most of her is too intent on finding him to think about that. C’mon, Mono, she’s here. Right here!

Focus. 

“Mono, I’m here.”

...Will he even care to look for her? It’s safer for him to run, get away from the endless TVs and Viewers of the city where the Tall Man hunts. She would probably run, in his place. She would have to run, because she can’t do the thing with TVs Mono can. 

But Mono...

(She doesn’t want to leave him behind. Or have him leave her behind.)

She bites her lip. Squishes her face closer and closer, hands pressed flat. The TV is going to burn her, if she doesn’t back away. 

She stays. 

Stays, almost curled up against the burning of the screen, until something forms in the shadows in between the white fuzzies. 

She almost flinches back, but it’s not her enemy. It’s...

A familiar paper masked form. 

Six breathes out a shuddering breath, her entire body shaking. 

Mono. 

He’s here. 

Here and his hands are reaching for hers, in that impossible way of his, through the screen. Cool to the touch, comforting after nearly frying herself on the TV for so long. 

For a moment, Six dares to let herself hope: they’ll get out of this. 

Forgetting, in that same moment, exactly why she hasn’t stopped running for so long. The footsteps that have been steadily getting closer, finally caught up. 

A large hand wraps around her waist. Like before. And pulls. Like before. 

She doesn’t look back, she can’t, she’s holding onto Mono. 

Six squirms and kicks, but the grip only tightens. Biting her way free might be the only way out, like she did before, but with her body mostly pointed towards Mono and the TV screen, she can’t twist around to actually do said biting. 

Leaving the Tall Man freedom to drag her away, buzzing away at her raincoat and skin with his fuzzy touch. A touch that is a lot like the burning of the screen. Completely opposite to the chill Mono tries to pass onto her. 

Her hands are tight around Mono’s. Mono, who sees the threat and cries out. Pulling harder to get her free, but of course not as strong as the force keeping her from getting through in the first place. 

No child is strong as an adult. No one. 

If Six continues to hold on, then Mono will be pulled in too. Trapped by the thin monstrous man yanking at her. 

She should let go. 

Six screams. Her fingers, her nails, dig into the boy’s wrists. Enough to draw blood, underneath his coat sleeves. 

“No!”

Is the word coming from her or Mono? Six has no idea, not with the blood pumping in her ears. Drowning even the static out in her terror. 

But. 

She doesn’t let go. 

~

He doesn’t let go. 

The adult known as the Thin Man cannot afford to let go. 

An awareness just as violent as the energies in his veins assures of this, though he knows not the reason.

Only that the girl in this yellow coat must not escape. 

He pulls her back, away from an escape route limited to only those of the transmission. A route he had been unaware that he needed to guard from this girl in turn, even with her lacking that transmission. Foolish, but who would have supposed that the boy would have been able to reach her from so far?  

The man will simply have to make sure no other TVs are in reach, in the future. Simple enough. 

As he pulls the girl out, she screams and struggles. Useless, of course. There is more resistance than expected as his hand moves back. Slightly more. Not enough to stop the man.  

Enough to pull something else through the screen. 

His form flickers, at the sudden brightness of transmission. The boy. She’s pulled in the boy in after her, tumbling onto the floor. 

Within his reach. 

The girl has only pulled the boy in due to her own selfishness, he knows. Yet her same selfishness has made the entire situation much easier to handle. 

Having the boy in the Tower is a very different situation from hunting him through the streets, the end-goal of getting the boy to the Tower in the first place already carried out. 

Of course, that still leaves him with a screaming girl in hand. One that’s attempting to bite into his hand like before. The wound from that still itches mentally, though long healed in actuality. 

Almost absent minded in the action, he readjusts his grip. Pinches around the shoulders and neck of the jacket, directed away from anywhere that gnashing teeth may try to tear into. 

Allowing him to look downwards, in his squat. 

The man is far more interested in the very still form of the boy on the ground, than whatever attack this feral child may try to pull. 

The buzzing of the boy’s transmission abilities have almost died down to nothing, despite the fear of the situation that should be bringing them singing to a new height of power. Very light breathing. No response to him nudging the boy with a shoe. 

Hm. 

It seems that the sudden shock of transferring straight away to the Tower may have knocked out his newest guest. Another unasked for boon, in giving him much needed time for preparation in order to host that same guest.  

It’s not every day that they receive an individual that has such a strong presence of transmission, after all. 

Most are far weaker and in response to their weakness the man has to had to do some...unfortunate things. 

There’s a bitter gratitude, though he hesitates to name the emotion such, that today he might not have to do the same to this boy. And maybe the girl, even though it’s clear she lacks any transmission abilities. 

The weight hanging from his pinched fingers suddenly lessens. 

His eyes flick over to catch the girl slipping out of her coat sleeves. Leaving the slick yellow fabric behind in her escape from his grasp. Racing to grab at the boy’s arms, his shoulders. Tugging him after her, the best she can. 

He’s not sure why that is so utterly shocking to him, the girl abandoning her coat to flee. Why wouldn’t she do whatever she can to escape? She did drag in the boy, in her attempt. 

But to run straight to the boy, to attempt taking that deadweight with her...something is wrong with that. A disconnect. 

He rises to his full height. Lets static buzz throughout his form, his words. 

“Stop that.”

To the girl’s credit, she doesn’t let go of the boy’s shoulders. Though it’s clear that she wants to, in order to cover her ears from the sound of his voice. 

Just continues to drag him away, as quickly as she can manage. 

...Surprisingly quickly, considering the lack of size difference and the girl’s limited upper body strength. 

They’re halfway down the hall before the man considers doing anything about it. 

Not like they can truly escape this place. 

Not with the Tower’s Eyes on the two, intent on finding out more. Always more, never any privacy from those eyes. 

“Girl. There is no running here.”

Another headshake, and the girl keeps moving away with her burden. 

The man contemplates catching up to her, grabbing both children here and now. But he doesn’t need to. He will not tire and there is nowhere for the pair to hide. 

Simply waiting for the girl to exhaust herself will minimize her continued attempts to bite him. And waiting for the boy to wake up in turn will give him time to prepare the proper rooms. 

Still. 

How truly irritating. 

He heaves out a breath he doesn’t need, a buzz in the air. 

Why won’t this stupid girl stop running?!

~

Why won’t this stupid monster leave them alone?!

Other monsters always tire out eventually, but this tall one doesn’t. More following like before. And she even had to leave her coat behind to get away, too. But this time is even more difficult. 

Because this time, Mono’s with her. Hurt and unable to run. Leaving her to do all the work of getting away, a burden.  

She needs to leave him behind. 

(He reached through the screen for her.)

Six grits her teeth. Pulls. Not letting Mono go. 

Thankfully she’s not stuck with his dead weight for much longer. His body moves under her touch, the paper bag head twitching. 

She lets go and he slumps onto his back. But slowly, slowly, begins to sit from that position. Alive. 

“Mono!”

He stares at her, the best she can tell with the paper bag on his face. 

“You said my name!”

Right, she hasn’t done that before in person. Doesn’t matter because-

“We need to run!” she hisses. “Up up!”

Mono gets up onto his feet. Gets up and...staggers. Nearly runs into the wall before he puts a hand out to catch himself on that same wall. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers loudly in her direction. His bag rustles. “Where’s your coat?”

Her coat. She hides her eyes behind her bangs, rather than answer. 

He doesn’t push, but she can see him swallow back his words. His apologies. Because they both know apologies are useless, in this world where anything and everything could be gone forever without warning. 

Besides, there are other things that are more important. Like how Mono can’t seem to stand on his own, that’s bad. 

She might have to leave him behind. 

But Mono does move away from the wall. Wobbly, but stable enough. 

She doesn’t breathe in relief, because it’s only expected, right? Of course Mono is strong enough to make it, they’ve made it through so much before. 

They can get through this too. 

“We need to find another TV, to get out,” Six decides out loud.

“Yeah, good idea,” Mono agrees. “Have you seen any others?”

She nibbles on her cheek in thought, careful not to draw blood. Looking Mono over just in case he falls over from being so wobbly. 

Her eyes catch on the holes on his wrists, from when she refused to let go. Still bleeding lightly. Making her viciously aware of the blood under her fingernails. 

She scowls, reaching up to rub her nails on her tattered sleeves. Wipe the blood out the best she can. 

It’s not her fault, it’s not. Sometimes stuff like this happens. Sometimes another kid gets hurt by accident. That’s all this is, an accident. 

It has to be.

Movement. In the corner of her eye. Not from Mono, the other way. 

She checks. You always have to check, when a monster could come and eat you at any moment. 

(That’s how the Hunter got her, not being careful enough.)

Nothing. 

There’s nothing. Same old gray walls, not an escape route in sight. 

Her body shivers anyway. 

~

There is the usual shiver in his flesh, the itch of the Tower watching him. Watching him and the newcomers to its territory. 

The children are steady in their fleeing. 

Their pace will not last for long, of course. Fear can push young bodies beyond their normal limits, but even that cannot keep them running forever. 

All the man has to do is wait. Follow behind until their legs can run no more. 

But how long it is taking for that running to end...is longer than the man expected. They are clever, finding shadows and corners to hide behind in corridors that otherwise offer no clear hiding places. Giving them moments to catch their breath, to draw out their ability to run. 

If not for the boy’s steadily rising transmission to track by and the keen eyes of the Tower, the smallest of possibilities remains that the man would have lost them entirely. 

Small, but still a chance. 

Again, the man can wait. Follow and wait. 

Yet...he adjusts his hat, considering. He has spent a very large portion of his existence waiting. Waiting for something just beyond his reach, a hole inside that hummed once he laid eyes on the girl in the yellow coat. 

Something about those children calls to him, more than any other he’s retrieved for himself and the Tower. 

Familiar, even with the girl lacking transmission entirely. Unlike the boy, who has more than the man has ever seen in a child before. 

He wants answers and answers are usually easy for him to find, with his connection to the Broadcast. This lack of information is new to him. Digging away at the patience he would otherwise have in this situation. 

So the man considers what other options he has, pausing in his walk. Turns over what information he knows over in his mind. 

The children that wander the streets of the Pale City are starving little beasts. Properly paranoid in a world that would not, and does not, hesitate to devour them when given the slightest chance. Food is hard to find and shelter even more so. 

Providing a proper hiding place would be taken advantage of right away, especially after running for so long without that possibility. Proper precautions, thrown to the side, in the light of an unexpected windfall. 

Why wouldn’t they believe in that? Especially after the disaster that nearly lead to the girl escaping through the TV, a windfall in entirely different fashion. 

Also...he tugs out the yellow coat of the girl from his pocket. Turns it over between his fingers, feeling the rain resistant material. 

The girl will want this back, will she not?

It will serve as decent bait. And the boy will not let her go for it alone. They will be caught together, in the trap. 

Perfect.

All he’ll need is more doors down these halls...

Chapter Text

Another door. Another door to add to the line of doors that have been showing up through the most recent line of hallways. 

Six eyes it just as cautiously as she did the rest. 

Mono pads up to it, to carefully lean against the frame. Pushing at it. Like he did with the others. Like the others, the door doesn’t open. Doesn’t even budge. 

The handle...she lifts her eyes up to it. 

Still high up, all of the doors have had very high handles, to go with how tall the doors are. With how tall the monster that lives here is. 

...They’ve haven’t heard the Tall Man’s footsteps for a while, Six realizes suddenly, with the reminder of his presence in her mind due to the tall doors. 

Should be a good thing but...

“Mono,” she whispers. “Do you hear anything?”

The paper bag tilts to the side as its owner carefully listens the best he can. His hearing, though she hates to admit it, is far more sharper than hers. Able to pick out all kinds of details that her own ears can’t, from much farther away. 

It’s alright, she makes up for it by having the best sense of smell. 

Eventually, he shakes his head. “Nothing. Where did the Thin Man go?”

Good to see he’s thinking the same as her. 

“Maybe he got bored?” she suggests, but she knows that isn’t right as soon as the idea leaves her mouth. 

If the monster was the type to get bored, he would have stopped walking after them long ago. 

No, something has changed here. But what?

“...I don’t know about that,” Mono says, scratching his head through his bag. 

She hums in response. Eying the door handle once again. 

Something may have changed, but they don’t have a choice but to continue their search for a way out. Before the Tall Man decides to start up the chase again. 

She crouches, cupping her hands together to give Mono a boost. Hopefully they’ll be able to reach this handle. 

They do, after Mono has a running start and bounces off her hands to barely get his fingers on said handle. 

The door opens smoothly. Quietly. Not a single rusty squeak. And the room beyond the door...actually has stuff in it. Instead of being empty like the hallways, there’s metal shelving in rows all along the edges. Shelves that don’t have anything like cans or paper stacks taking up the space on them. Just empty. Completely empty. 

A buzzing sound, too, that’s familiar. She glances upwards and sure enough, there’s a TV that serves as the source of the sound, buzzing and churning its gray light down at them. 

A flash of yellow catches her attention. 

Her raincoat is in the center of the room. 

Bright yellow, waiting to be picked up. 

She wants nothing more than to rush to it, pick it up and slide the coat back onto her body. But...Six hesitates. 

Why is it here? The Tall Man took it, so her coat can’t be here. Waiting for her. 

Mono nudges her. “Look, it’s your coat!”

Yes, she sees that. She pushes her lips together. Thinking. 

“But that monster had it, why is it here? ”

Mono tugs at the bottom of his paper mask. “ Is it your coat? Not one that just looks the same?”

“Why would any coat be here?” Especially with how empty this tower is. Empty and haunting and threatening, everywhere. 

Everything about this room is weird, in that light. The empty bookshelves, the TV on top of those metal shelves that buzzes down at them...the fact there is stuff in the room doesn’t fit the rest of the tower. 

But that TV and this room is the closest thing they have for an escape route now, no matter how suspicious it is. 

Might as well grab her coat, in that light. 

Slowly, she creeps over. Mono stays by the door, keeping a lookout. 

The coat slips on as easily as it did when she first found it. The tears in the bottom, some familiar stains, it’s definitely her coat. 

Feels good to have it back. 

Turning, she waves at Mono. He waves back. Beckoning her over, so they can get out of here. To the door. 

The door slams shut. 

No. 

She whirls towards the door, heart racing in her chest. There is no handle on this side, and with the hinges making sure the door can only be pushed in from the other side...there is no way to open the door. 

A trap. As final as the net the Hunter had caught her with. 

Mono’s already at the door, throwing his entire weight against it. But the wood doesn’t even budge, confirming her thoughts. Useless. Useless. Useless. 

“Six! Come help me!”

She hurries over, to add her weight and pounding fists. 

The wood is simply too sturdy, not rotted enough to break. Even with both of them putting their full effort trying to get through. 

“The TV,” she makes out, through her pants. 

“Climb for that,” Mono agrees. 

From the door, to the shelves. The shelves are spaced really far apart, but with them helping each other, boosting each other up in different spots, they’re making it. 

Cold to the touch, too easy to almost slip on the metal that makes them up. But can’t stop, not when this is the only way to run. 

They’re climbing up. 

Almost there-

The TV screams. Wincing, Six wants to cover her ears but can’t, occupied with climbing as they are. A familiar white and black flashing, large hands pressed against the screen...

That man is crawling through their target TV. And they have no way out. Not this time. 

Uh oh.

The two of them drop down from the shelves. Together. 

Six stiffens her back, hands in fists by side. No escape, but she won’t go down without a fight. 

Neither of them will.  

~

The man leans back the best he can manage in his chair, folding his fingers together at the sight he sees on the screens before him. 

His trap has succeeded and now the children are in one location, ready for him to seek them out whenever he desires. 

A slight frown tugs at his stiff face as he watches the pair...panic. Full of fearful energy that somehow their hours of running haven't drained from them. 

Understandable, under the circumstances. Irritating, at the same time. 

And they’re...he squints. Trying to climb up to the TV? Hm, he’ll need to stop that. 

The edges of his screen shiver. Wobble as they do when a certain Tower is in the process of using them. Of building up its power. 

He heaves out air he doesn’t need from his lungs. Hand reaches up to knead at his forehead. 

Further interference will be needed on his end, it seems. 

Before the Tower decides to do something on its own. And no one, the children or the man, needs that. The children will panic further, no doubt. But better that than whatever the Tower is currently preparing itself to do. 

He stands. Reaches to the closest TV, ready to pull himself through. 

The process of doing so is more complicated with the TV positioned on top of tall shelves, but he makes do. 

At least the children have taken his appearance as a warning and decided to climb down rather than risking him squashing them as he comes through. 

They wouldn’t have survived this long if they would risk that. 

Make sure the TV turns off behind him, don’t need the boy using it in any way...that done, the man turns his full attention to the children. 

The boy in his paper bag mask and the girl wearing the yellow coat he left for her. 

Despite himself, a smile itches at his face in response to the sight. How right it seems for her to be in yellow once more. 

The hole in his chest throbs. 

He picks up the girl first. Easy enough, despite how she scrambles and how the boy growls at him. 

The girl sinks her teeth into his wrist. Reintroducing him to a familiar pain. Of course she does. Somewhat more prepared for the attack this time, he doesn’t let go. No matter how she growls and digs and claws at him, truly determined to make him release her. 

Now for the boy-

Wait. Where did the boy go-?

CREAK. 

In his distraction, fingers loosening, the girl jumps free. Rolls away as a bookshelf behind him falls onto the man. Judging by the boy standing off to the side of that shelf, using some kind of stick as a lever, he must have pushed it over. 

CRUNCH. 

The weak frames break apart on the floor. Without hitting its intended target. Merely scattering steel hazardously everywhere.  

Easy enough to transmit his way through the falling furniture. 

Still. 

That’s irritating. 

The man readjusts his hat. Brushes the dust off his suit the best he can, as reality fuzzes in and out around him. 

“The door is still closed,” he says. “What did you think that was going to accomplish?”

Killing him was no doubt the hope. But that wouldn’t open the door or get them out. Children, so short sighted in their fear. 

Gaping at him in their fear. 

He’s done with these games. 

Reaching out, using both hands, he tugs. 

The boy resists with his native transmission. The girl more easily falls into place. Screeching like the little beast she is, clawing at him. Again. There would be something wrong, he reflects, if she wasn’t clawing and biting him. 

The boy soon follows after, into the man’s grasp, those young powers not enough. 

The boy doesn’t bite, only sticking to digging his stubby nails in. But something tells the man that it is only due to the bag on said boy’s head and how he doesn’t want to risk losing this, that he does not bite the man like the girl eagerly does. 

Does the man know how he knows this? No. 

Does the man remember how he knows whatever he does know? No. 

...It doesn’t matter in the first place. He has the children now. He needs to take them somewhere else. 

His shoes click against the floor as he steadily moves through the hallway full of doors. None of them truly going anywhere, of course, simply a necessary background to set up the trap. 

He has one particular room in mind, for these children. Set up while waiting for them to tire. 

...Which he will have to do again, with the two both fervently attempting to break free of his grip. Biting and nipping and clawing, drawing out his dark blood. More physical pain than he’s experienced...

His eyes roll back in contemplation. A while. No exact timeframe in mind. 

Not a lot of pain. Merely...surprising, the experience of physical sensation. 

The gnawing in his right thumb grows more intense. Like the girl is attempting to eat his flesh. The boy yanks and pulls at his skin on the other hand. Distracting and opposing sensations. 

His destination is near the room of screens and he can feel the children pick up their assault at the blue glow of those screens. 

Trying for one last escape attempt, now there’s a target to flee to. 

An attempt he’s already accounting for, tightening his grasp. Enough to make them both gasp for air. Not his aim, but needs must...

Buys him time enough to move past the screens. To where he plans to keep them. 

Unless. 

He glances down at the boy and the girl. Starting their wiggles anew, now that his grip has lessened. 

Perhaps he should separate them. 

Easier to break them down, tire them out, if they are apart. 

But something of him, that same hole, rebels at the thought. No, he’ll leave them together. 

See if that will calm them down. 

Opening the door to the children’s future room is difficult, with two full hands. 

He manages with an elbow to the handle, pushing it down, and a foot wedging its way into the just barely opened door. 

Enough to slowly pull the door open, with that same foot. 

The children, of course, are complete beasts the entire time. 

“Calm DOWN,” a hiss escapes him, the almost soothing tune that is guaranteed to catch the attention of every Viewer within blocks whenever he uses it. “Sleep.”

Enough to draw the girl into an almost slumber, what would be an actual sleep if her heart wasn’t beating so frantically. Not quite enough for the boy, who turns sluggish but still wiggles against his fingers. 

Rival channels going against each other, no doubt. 

But the tune is enough to get the man time to do what he’s there for in the first place. 

Placing the children down on the floor and swiftly closing the door behind him before they gather their wits enough to run for it. 

He has no desire to start this chase all over again, after all. 

Not with the Tower currently banging in his skull, demanding him to pay attention to it now. 

(Be the Broadcaster. Nothing more, nothing less.)

He sits down in his chair. The chair that is always waiting for him, from the start to the end. It creaks under his weight. 

The Tower turns the pressure of its attention on him, in response. A weight that he once suffocated under, before he traded who-he-was to gain breathing space, existing beyond the Broadcaster. A price, in all things. 

Like the pains the children have given him, in exchange for him taking them up. 

The man turns his wrist over. The wrist of the hand he held the girl in. Bleeding once more, dark liquid dripping slowly from the bitemarks. 

Those injuries are already healing up and should he focus on the transmission vibrating in his veins, they’ll close up even faster. The Tower urges him to do so, to wipe away the evidence that he can be harmed in even so small a fashion. 

The man refuses. 

Instead he watches. Allows the blood to drip down into his sleeve, like he did so long ago, a reminder that he is alive. Somehow. 

Impossibly alive.

(But alone.)

A bitter expression touches at the edge of his mouth. As bitter as the scent of his blood. 

~

The sour ick of the Tall Man’s blood fills her mouth. Waking her from that awful fuzziness that tried to eat her brain, earlier. 

She runs her nails down her tongue, trying to scratch the gross taste out, but that doesn’t help when her nails also have his blood under them. 

Gross, she needs to clean herself off. 

Six shakes her head violently, dropping her hand from her mouth. Focus! Can’t distract herself from the real problem. 

That they’re in another room they can’t get out of. 

It’s the Hunter all over again. Trapping them in a room, a door that can’t be opened...

This time, Six doesn’t think she’ll be lucky enough to have an unexpected ax crunch through the door. Not in the tower, where no one goes to. 

She pulls her legs up to her chest. Hugging them. 

Across from her, Mono does the same. Reminding her that he’s here. 

She’s not alone this time, at least. Trapped together. 

“...do you see a way out?” Mono whispers. 

Does she?

Six frowns, eyes flicking about under her hood. 

Much like the trap room, this place isn’t empty. But it’s even less empty than the trap room, with a small table and a bed to crawl under against the wall. 

There’s even a soft rug that her feet rest on, underneath them. A few toys, scattered across that rug too. 

She runs her tongue against the back of teeth. Looks again. 

There’s no clear exit, other than the door behind, but there’s an itch from seeing this room. What about it makes her twinge and shiver, like she should be scared but there’s no monsters at all?

“It looks like the room he took you from.” Mono pins the feeling down in words. Names the familiarity that boils inside of her. 

He’s right, it does. 

Six feels bile rise up in her throat. She swallows it back down forcefully, clutching at her stomach. 

Mono’s hand raises towards her, as if to take her hand like he’s done so many times. She glares at him, until said hand lowers, message passed on. 

Maybe later.

But now? Now Six just wants to be alone. 

She turns away from him. Squishing her legs up even closer, letting her hooded head rest on her knees. 

Stuck in where she got taken from...why would the monster do that? Why would any monster do that? That’s...no, no, she hates this. 

Hates this monster so much. She’s going to, going to... bite him more. Set him on fire, like that crazy Doctor, or shoot him like the Hunter. 

Make the Tall Man go away. Forever. 

Her body shakes. Shivers and trembles. 

There’s no crying. 

She can’t cry, so don’t try to make her. Only kids that are about to be eaten cry and she’s not going to let anything eat her ever. She didn’t even cry when the Hunter caught her, no way this monster will be able to do that. So there!

Her face is wet. 

But that’s the blood, from her biting. That’s all. That’s all it can be. 

(Six doesn’t know what to do.) 

~

Mono...has no idea what to do. Not yet. 

He’s good at puzzles, at piecing together, he knows. He wouldn’t have survived so many monsters if he wasn’t, because kids need to be clever to survive as many monsters he’s faced. 

Clever and lucky and...to not be alone. Because Six helps, Six makes a difference. 

Six is why he wants to keep surviving, no matter how many- it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because he has Six now. 

(She used his name! She wants him back!)

She wants him back but not right now. Right now, she’s curled up on the rug and won’t let him take her hand. 

Alone time right now, okay. Mono can do that. Even he hates alone time. But alone time is something he can do, for Six. 

(Like ignoring the little whimpers she makes right now. He can do that too.)

Leaving him time to think about the monster who’s trapped them here. The Thin Man. 

Every time he sees that man, the Thin Man, his entire body fizzes and fuzzes. Like a TV screen, like a TV screen as it screams for him to come over. To touch and tune. 

(Whatever tune means for a TV.)

Mono’s never felt like that around any other monster. But...

He breathes, paper bag rattling over his mouth and nose. 

But other monsters couldn’t walk through the TVs. Walk through like Mono can. 

His fingernails dig into his palms. Tight tight fists. 

There can’t be what are almost words, in the monster’s rasping and wailing. Because if there were, Six would have said something about how weird it was that a monster could talk. 

They’ve talked about stuff kinda like that before, how the Teacher did strange things to frogs in jars and the strange clay kids mimicked her with their own frogs. 

Mono shoves a hand under his mask. Rubbing at an eye. 

Can’t let any tears out, they’ll ruin the paper. More than it has already, he guesses...

His stomach groans. Aches and hurts. Even when they just ate.

...Did they?

How long were they running? Mono...has no idea. But his stomach hurts like that one time he ate a jar of white fuzzy fruit. Ate it and puked it all up, feeling like he was going to die. 

(Is he dying now? )

He swallows. 

Wait, the rumbling in his stomach...that’s not from eating bad food. Not only in his stomach, it runs through the rest of his body too. Like when he touches a TV screen, presses himself against it. 

The hissing in his blood and bones...it’s from the Thin Man. On the other side of the door. 

He’s here. 

Chapter Text

The Tower is sated. For now. 

Leaving the man to his own devices, a state that not always been desirable. In the past, he has thrown himself back into the many eyes of the Tower, to avoid being left alone in his head. 

Now...

He is needed. There are tasks for him to do, outside of being the Broadcaster. The children, which the man cannot leave to the Tower’s care. 

No, he needs to take care of this. 

What do children need again? 

The man taps his fingers against his leg in thought. Consideration. 

Food. Yes, they need to eat. In a way he has not in a long time. 

There is no food stored in the Tower, the man will need to go farther afield for that. Not difficult, many Viewers situate themselves in locations full of supplies that they will not (and cannot) ever use. 

Supplies that, again, he has no use for either. Until the children, that is. 

A small collection of cans will do for a supply. Too many and the Tower will rot them where they sit, too few and the man will gain the Tower’s attention by leaving too many times to resupply. 

Once he’s collected the food stuffs that look the most appealing, he’s ready for the next step: to give said food to the children. 

One can, of course. One can at a time. 

The children, of course, are hiding when he enters the room with their food. 

He sets the can on the ground. Moves away from the bed they hide under. Waits. 

Watches as the pair carefully examine the container before mutually agreeing to drag it closer to their shelter. To tear into the offered food. 

In an act of foresight, the man opened the can before presenting its contents to the children. He lacks the desire to see exactly what they would do to break open the can, lacking the usual tools or sharp objects to manipulate such containers with. Best to cut that off before those attempts can ever be thought up. 

As a result, he isn’t quite expecting the almost mess of the children instantly trying to knock over the can to open it up themselves. Because of course, they’re expecting to have to break it open. 

The children catch the can themselves before he has to intervene. Before there are baked beans everywhere. 

Not that the beans don’t end everywhere anyway, the pair eagerly tearing into their meal and scattering the juices all over the place in the process. 

...Maybe he should have picked a less messy meal.

His vision adjusts to better pick up smaller particles. Smaller fragments than the children themselves, for details beyond his usual preferred eyes. 

What he can see of the girl’s face is covered in blood. The man’s own blood. Looking her over, his eyes catch similar clots under her nails. Mixed with the mud and dust of the always raining city and whatever building she had picked to shelter in before now, it’s...

“Disgusting,” he says. 

The boy is in a similar state, though of course the man cannot see what condition his face is in due to the disguising mask. Yet with how limp that mask is, there’s no doubt there’s dirt both in the bag material itself and the boy’s facial skin. 

Yet the two still dig into the offered food with dirty little hands, uncaring of what kind of filth they’re shoving into their own mouths in the process. 

Again, disgusting to watch. He needs to do something about it. 

He’s not fool enough to get in between the children and the food, despite the terribleness of the sight. 

Instead, the man waits. 

Waits for them to finish. 

~

The Thin Man wants something from them, Mono can tell. It’s a level itch in his head, prompted by the nonstop staring from glassy eyes. 

In response, he chews his food slower. Taking in every bite. 

Pale beans, but they taste sweeter than what he’s used to, covered in a squishy redness. A squishy redness that he just has to lick off his hands, just as good off the beans as it was on the beans. 

Six scarfs down her share, the way she always does. When she reaches for his food, he shoves at her. Shakes his food. 

“Mine,” he warns. 

“Slow,” she complains back.

Yep, that’s what he’s aiming for here. He jerks his head in the Thin Man’s direction. Six hums back, sounding confused, but she doesn’t reach for his food again. 

Good. 

Mono continues his slow pace, trying to buy more time to figure out what to do next. All too soon, he finishes his meal. 

Exposed. 

Movement, off to the side. He jerks over. Trying to figure out what the Thin Man is doing, because it’s the Thin Man moving. Of course it is. 

A hand, reaching towards him. 

Split second to react. Mono does. Throw his hands up, focuses on something in his chest, a popping that shows up every time he sees a TV. Or sees the Thin Man. 

For a moment the world sparks and stops, a shuddering stagger. Like when the Thin Man first appeared, flashing off and on towards Mono and Six. But the sparks aren’t from the Thin Man. 

They’re from...him. Mono. 

The hand pauses midair. Screeching, from its owner. 

“That transmission of yours grows irritating, boy. Learn control or don’t.”

The sound, he can again almost hear words. Something about being annoying, control?

The hand reaches for him again. 

Six grabs his arm. Drags him back under the bed. Away from the Thin Man. 

The Thin Man buzzes, outline breaking up and reforming. 

“You need to be cleaned off, the both of you. Filthy-”

(Something in Mono wants to respond to the sound.) 

He swallows, the motion going through his ears. Aching and wet. Pounding in his head. 

They wiggle back and back, farther and farther from the crackling monster outside their shelter. 

Hold his breath. Expect for the Thin Man to reach out, to use his strange powers to make them hover into his hands. Not taking no for an answer. 

But...

Quiet. Too quiet, the buzz and crackle gone. 

It is all Mono can do, to breathe. Huddling with his legs tight against his chest. 

Six fills up the silence with words. She doesn’t do that, that’s what Mono does. But she’s talking to him. For him. 

“He’s gone.”

Yes, he knows. He can feel it. He hates how he can feel it. 

Mono...his hands won’t stop shaking. His entire body refuses to not shiver. Fire in his veins, the stupid heat of the TVs that just won’t leave him. 

(Especially with the Thin Man around.)

He wants out. 

~

They need to get out of here. 

Yes, there’s food and Six is always hungry. But there’s probably a trap in the food too, one that hasn’t popped up yet. 

Mono might be in more danger than she is, if Six has to be honest. The Tall Man keeps buzzing at him, making him go all still. Like he used to do with the TVs.

Maybe the thing with the TVs was the Tall Man all along, interested in Mono for whatever weird reason. Maybe it’s like with monsters and territory, he’s after Mono because they both can use the same TVs to move around. 

Six shakes her head firmly. 

But the reason doesn’t matter, not really. Because they need to get out of here, no matter if the Tall Man is particularly weird about Mono or not. Before the tall monster turns on both of them. 

“Any ideas?” She’s careful to keep her voice even lower than usual, unsure of how much the Tall Man can pick up in this strange place of his. 

“For what?” Mono breathes back. His voice is much harder to catch, due to the paper bag. But he’s always been very good at making himself understood despite that covering. 

She drums the air above the floor. “ Escape, dummy. Ideas on that.”

“Right.” The other kid shakes himself, wiggling his masked head back and forth. “Ideas...where do we start?”

A good question. 

The room looks the same as it has the other fifty billion times Six’s looked it over, but she repeats the action just in case. 

Hasn’t stopped making her all weird and mumbly on the inside, a stupid reminder of how this entire mess yanked ‘em all up in the first place. That stupid room and TV. 

Mostly the TV. But still!

Her fingers trace the wooden bed leg next to her head. Maybe...

She wedges in her nails along the grain of that wood, the best she can. Scratches along to feel for any kind of crack. 

There. There’s a thin crack along the every edge of the bed leg, if she pulls hard enough, she can get some wood off of the leg for her to use. For something, anything. She starts pulling. 

Pulling up her nails in the process.

Oh, this is going to hurt. 

She grits her teeth. Careful to keep her tongue flat, out of the way of those same teeth, don’t want to accidentally bite it. Did that once, hurt forever while eating. 

Slowly, slowly. 

Dig her nails into the crack. Pull. 

“Six? You’re breaking the bed.” 

Yep, she is. Finally, she gets to break something here in this stupid tower. 

Mono crawls over. Intently watching her actions, unblinkingly. Or he could be blinking, always hard to tell with his mask. He watches a lot, when there’s not a puzzle of his own to be distracted on. 

Six tries her best to ignore him, like she always does. No matter how icky the feels of those staring eyes are. 

The wood presses back, as she tugs and struggles. Ripping out her fingernails as its price. Every single one of them, down to the nail bed. 

HURTS. 

She sticks her other fist into her mouth to muffle the sound. Bites down. 

Don’t let go. Can’t stop now. 

She needs this. 

Breaks off a splinter, with one last tug. A splinter about her height. Tall and splintered and very stabby. 

It’s not just any old splinter, it’s going to be the Splinter. 

“A weapon,” Mono breathes with the right appreciation. “What’d you gonna do with it?”

Six runs her hand up and down it. Uncaring of how it pricks her skin, who cares when she’s already lost her nails for the Splinter?

“We could set up a trap in front of the door, when it opens. Get the monster when he comes through.”

“Using it to attack the Thin Man won’t work,” Mono points out reasonably. Painfully reasonably, she thinks in a sulk. 

She really likes the idea of poking a hole in that monster, make him stay hurt for once. 

“What’s your idea, then?” Six folds her arms over her chest. Waiting. Whatever he’s sure to come up with can’t be as great as stabbing monsters. 

“Break the door! We can do that.” The kid tugs at the edges of his mask, a grin practically screaming out from underneath the brown paper. 

Six eyes the door. Then the Splinter. Just as thick and tough looking as the last one, the Splinter being a mere shard of wood in comparison. Nowhere as tough.  

“Don’t worry, we’ll do the hinges, ” Mono explains. 

Oh. That makes more sense, the weak parts of the door. Better plan. 

She nods her agreement. 

The smile she can’t see grows even bigger and brighter.

Until it suddenly falls away, a sudden nightmare while sleeping. 

Mono stiffens. 

“Here.”

Oh, Six knows what that means. The sound of a doorknob turning only confirms it.

“Hide the Splinter,” she hisses, shoving the shredded wood at him. 

He squeaks on catching it, pulling the wood over to hide between the back bed leg and the wall. Where the Splinter should blend in.  

The tapping of shoes on wooden floor. Hold your breath, no matter how useless. 

Familiar long legs curl up and out to either side as the Tall Man squats down. Like a dead spider.

His pale fingers flatten themselves against the floor, spider-like in a different way. 

Strange eyes glitter and gleam, light on dust floating in an abandoned house. Focusing in on them. 

“Blood...what have you done to yourselves now?”

Mono flinches. Six tugs him back a little further, up against the wall. 

The distance, this time, isn’t enough. 

Because instead of drawing back, leaving like the last time they dug deeper under the bed, the Tall Man reaches out. 

With a long enough limb to grab Six. 

(Again.)

“Let her go!” Mono, stupid as ever, rushes towards the Tall Man in her defense. 

The Tall Man, of course, ignores him and stands up with her in his fist. 

...Probably a good thing she and Mono decided to hide the Splinter under the bed and not on them. No matter how tempting the comfort of a ready-made weapon would be. 

Because if they hadn’t? The Tall Man would have found it and the plan over before it could really start. Bad. 

But still. 

Why would he do that? Pick her up now?

She kicks. Doesn’t scream, like she has before. Not this time. This time is all for fighting. 

Fighting even more. 

“You never change, girl,” the Tall Man rumbles. The sound screams into her ears, and she has to clap her hands over them, in case there’s more. 

“But there would be something wrong, if you didn’t fight me, hm?”

And there is. More bad sound. The Viewers sound but not, at the same time. 

She presses her ears even harder into her skull, like that’ll fix anything. Not like she has anything else to try chasing the sound away. 

His hand around her twists enough to let those same bad eyes look at her more closely. Focusing on the hand that she used to pry out the Splinter, still bloody and achy. 

“How did you manage to injure yourself so severely in the first place?”

Okay. 

She’s done with this. She can’t-

(Fight back against the noise.)

Six fills her lungs.

Screams. 

~

The man closes his eyes at the girl’s screaming. Briefly. The noise would be more irritating if he lacked the ability to tune the sound to a lower, less damaging pitch. 

Still irritating, despite him having done the previously mentioned action. 

It won’t fix anything, won’t get her loose, why does she do it?

However, the screaming is slightly preferable to the biting. Slightly. 

...But not biting will not hold for long, he predicts. Not when that’s her preferred fashion of attack. Leading to other issues. 

Getting bitten while cleaning her up, tending her wounds, would only backtrack on his attempts on those two tasks. 

He needs a method to stop her from getting her teeth into him. Give him time to better see what the girl has done to her own hand. 

After getting the boy off his leg, of course. 

Little beast is attempting to tear through his pant leg. Or possibly climb up him. 

It’ll be easy enough to tug him off, by the back of his coat. But he can’t have the boy run out on him when he leaves to tend to the girl. 

Irritating. 

He huffs out a screech of static.

A stiff weight falls off his leg onto the floor with a ‘plop.’ Twitching slightly. 

...didn’t mean to do that. 

The screaming gets louder as the girl presumably sees what’s happened to her companion. More struggles, more kicking, and...as predicted, more biting. 

Wonderful. 

He twists his head to better see the boy.  

Already he’s recovering, innate transmission boosting his body back into action. Soon he’ll be climbing onto the man once more, no doubt. 

But if even an accidental transmission release had such an effect...

The man’s lips move into a smirk. 

He knows what he can do. 

“Sleep, calm,” he croons, that familiar haunting tune. The Soothing tune, that worked enough to buy him time before. “No need to worry, all is well.”

The boy’s body is still. No more twitching. 

The girl wiggles, but the movement is weaker. Less insistent. 

Carefully, he scoops the boy off the rug. Tucking him under the bed covers is simple enough, even with only one available hand. 

The girl’s struggling increases. Waking up. Faster than the last time he did this. 

A downside of an individual lacking transmission: it takes more and more of the man’s own to have any effect, until eventually, his powers simply shatter the individual in question entirely and completely. Body and mind, the result of looking into the Tower’s countless eyes with no protection. 

(Where do you think monsters come from?)

If he wants the girl to remain human, the man cannot keep ‘tuning’ her. Another method must be found, again, to tend to her without the incessant biting. 

Before his time runs out, the man turns on his heel to leave the room. Girl still in hand. 

Underfoot, the Tower stirs. Groaning in its half sleeping state. 

The man cannot let the Tower lay eyes on her. Anymore than he can with the boy. He does not have a reason why, only that the hole in his chest will not. 

There are rooms, spaces and gaps beyond the Tower’s sight. Close to the Tower but also not. The man makes use of them rarely, knowing that once he does, such hiding spaces are exposed by his very presence. 

...the situation with the children’s room is very different from those rooms, but those same rooms will be useful for assisting the girl. 

This particular room especially, bandages and other medical supplies for humans stored away. Not useful to the man, not outside the children’s own apparent need for them, of course. A counter top provides a clean surface to use. Good. 

Now, to prevent her from running off of said surface...

Carefully, he lays the girl on her front and pushes her afflicted hand away from the rest of her body. Pins her down under a palm, with only that same arm peeking out. The yellow coat of hers is a familiar slickness, slippery in a way he has to account for to prevent her from sliding free. 

The pressure chases off the last of the soothing tune, small body pushing up the best it can against the man. 

No screeching. But that may be due to the pressure pushing the air out of her lungs. Hm. The man lessens the pressure slightly, even as he bends over to examine the injuries the best he can. Keeping one finger under the wrist, not allowing the girl to pull it back. Blink into focus...

There. The wounds...

“Again. How did you manage this?” 

The man thought he had removed all possible damaging tools. Nothing that should allow the girl to flay open her hand. The back of it, where the nails should be. 

Should be is the key part here, oozing sores in their place. 

The man’s face can’t help but crunch up at the sight, making a physical fizz of sound with the facial motion. 

Her fingers are simply too small for him to individually wrap them. Especially with her fighting him the entire way. Breaking them off would be far too easy. 

He has to move back his free hand to grab the bandages. As expected, the girl quickly draws her arm back into herself, into her body under his other palm. 

Her shaking body. 

Fear.

“The more you fight me, the longer this will take, girl,” he says, even knowing she will not understand. None of the children he takes ever do. 

(In the end, they all-)

Slowly, he uses the same finger as before to expose the arm once more. Allows the bandages to roll out, plenty of material to loosely wrap the injured hand in. Wrapping the fingers individually is beyond him in this situation, as he previously thought.

The man settles for simply wrapping the entire hand. The entire arm. 

Turning the girl’s hand into more of a club, layered and layered until she can’t bend or move her fingers. Leaving her with only one hand that she can use to climb and fight.

Such a handicap often serves as a death sentence, in this world that seeks to devour the little pests known as children. 

But she’s not out in that world anymore, now is she? The girl is in his possession, far from any adults who dare take advantage of the perceived weakness. 

Task complete, he lifts his entrapping palm. Ready for if the girl chooses to do something foolish like throw herself off the counter. 

She instead only lies there on her front. Still shivering. 

There is no response beyond an increase in that shivering as he turns her over onto her back with a finger. 

“You’ve exhausted yourself at last.”

Finally. 

...He meant to do something else, didn’t he? His eyes examine her bloody face, so very still. Still alive, her chest rising up and down as required. 

Her bloody face. Yes, he meant to clean that off. There’s some water, in strange clear bottles, that he uses to wet bandage strips. 

Gently, he uses those makeshift rags to dab at the girl’s face. Peeling off the stains of blood slowly but surely. Until something of a pale face is revealed underneath. 

Anywhere else he catches stains or blood, he continues his work to rub it off. Not successful everywhere, of course, especially on the yellow coat. 

But when the man is done, the girl is certainly less... dead looking. Still shaking, and still alive. Carefully he picks her up. Nestles her against his chest, feeling every vibration. 

He puts some of wetted cloth in a pocket, for the boy later. But with the girl at his chest, breathing and alive and moving as she is...

For the first time in his existence, that hole in the man’s chest feels...filled. 

Chapter Text

Six can’t stop shaking. 

She hates how she can’t stop shaking. Almost as much as she hates how she just...couldn’t fight back anymore. Can’t fight now. 

She’s just so tired and the Tall Man won’t leave her alone! Fiddling with arms and shoving her down, carrying her everywhere- has any monster touched her so much ever in her life? 

(Has Mono even touched her that much?)

Won’t let her go either, no matter how much she bites him. And she knows it hurts, with the amount of strange colored blood she draws, how deep her teeth sink in. Any other monster would let her go or smash her to mush, not keep putting themselves into situations to be bitten more. 

He doesn’t make any sense, that’s the worst. At least with the Hunter she knew he was waiting for her to die, so he could make her a doll like the rest of his messed up stuffed corpses. Didn’t want a messy corpse, until she escaped with Mono and the monster cared more about killing than having a new doll then. 

The Tall Man planning that too makes no sense as an idea, with what he’s done so far. 

And other monsters do save kids sometimes, for later, for other things, feed them to fatten them up and lock them up for who knows what. 

But that never lasts, if a kid tries to run or fight back. And Six has done both, not just fighting the entire time. 

Why does this monster not throw her away?

The only time he did that was the first time she bit him. He hasn’t let go since, when it should be the opposite with more bites. 

Six doesn’t understand. Too tired and achy to understand. 

His hand cups her up against his chest. 

Six can feel the vibration there, a lot like the TV she pressed up against and pulled Mono through. A lot like it but not exactly. 

More stable, less zappy. A hum. 

It takes a little longer to realize, as she readjusts to the rocking motion of the Tall Man’s footsteps, that the Tall Man himself is actually humming too. Out loud. 

She stiffens automatically, body readying to fight off a sudden sleepiness. But this hum...is different. No tingling in her fingers and toes, no vibration rising through her gut, none of the telltale signs of the weird sound the Tall Man’s used against her and Mono before. 

It’s not just a hum, of course. Because it’s a monster that’s making the sound in the first place. The kind of casual noise Six’s heard from monsters before, little murmurs and mutters that a clever child can use to steadily creep around the monster making them. Sounds that monsters can make any time they want to, but never kids. Because that’s how they die. 

But also. 

A sign that the Tall Man is distracted. 

Her eyes itch, tempting her to rub at them. Her coat’s a little soggy still, but not too much. Her face’s all dried up from that wet touching, at least. 

One of her hands...can’t use it, tangled up like it is. But it’s just jumping off. She can do that with one hand, can roll and catch herself with one hand. 

(She’s run when hurt worse before.)

This is as good of a chance she’s gonna get. 

Her body tenses. Ready to roll off. 

The Tall Man’s entire hand moves. Shifting so there’s no space for her to roll, her entire body trapped against the jacket he wears. 

“Enough of that.”

She winces at the crackling, crackling that quickly dies back down to the hum from before. 

...The hum isn’t a distracted sound? What is it, if not that? Why make it on purpose?

Six doesn’t understand anything about this monster.

Reluctantly, she settles back down. Allows her body rest against his chest. 

It is...soft. Under the hum. 

(She hates it. Him. All of this.)

~

Mono wakes to softness. 

He blinks, realizing he’s on the bed instead of under it. Surrounded by the blankets, but he wouldn’t make a nest on top. Six wouldn’t let him either, even if he wanted to. 

And where Six? Mono’s... 

Alone. Alone. 

Where’s Six? The last thing he remembers...Mono throws himself out of the bed. His palms smack the rug, he gets up to run. Heading towards the door right away. 

The door that the Thin Man left with Six through. Took her away. 

The Thin Man keeps taking her away!

And Mono...he lowers his fists. Mono can’t do anything to fight back. 

The most he can do is hope she comes back.

And maybe. He eyes the Splinter, from where it lies under the bed. Crawls over to grab it. Maybe start figuring out if the escape plan will work. 

Mono wanders over to the door (and its hinges), Splinter in hands. Ready to test it out. 

He pokes at the exposed hinge with the Splinter. A slice of thin wood breaks off. Mono stops before doing anymore damage. 

“Hnn.”

Seems that his original plan won’t work. The Splinter’s not sturdy enough to break a hinge without breaking first. Only something made of metal like a hammer might work. And Mono doesn’t think that a hammer’s going to show up here any time soon. Definitely not with the Thin Man around. 

But...there are other parts of the door he can try, can’t he?

He raises the Splinter. Scratches its pointy end against the doorframe. Leaving a scratch through the wood. 

Mono looks at the Splinter. Nods. 

This will work. This is definitely working for this part of the door. Now what to do? How to use the Splinter...

He scratches at the same spot he did before. A little more wood is shaved off, making the scratch a little deeper. Mono puts his hand on the scratch. Flexes his fingers against the slowly growing hole. 

Making it deeper... his eyes go between the hole and his fingers. 

“More of them will let me climb up.”

His head cranes back to look at the doorknob, out of reach. Both on his own and with Six’s help. Once he makes more cracks...it won’t be.

Mono lifts the Splinter to start breaking through more of the frame. 

Only to lower it, a familiar thrum lighting up in his bones. 

Uh oh. Mono scurries over to the bed, quick to dump the Splinter in the shadow underneath. Hiding the makeshift weapon best he can. 

Then...the door is creaking open. 

Mono goes for that opening right away. 

Fails, by a certain long leg getting in the way. A leg that Mono bounces off of, sending him sprawling. 

The Thin Man looks down at him. Fizzes and buzzes, as Mono climbs back up onto his feet.

“A pity you didn’t sleep longer.”  

Sleep? Can’t sleep with Six gone. Don’t want to miss her. Where is she? 

Up on the monster’s chest, Mono catches the glimpse of a bright color. 

Yellow, yellow coat! It’s Six, it has to be!

Mono bounces on his heels. Trying to get a better look, at that yellow cradled against the Thin Man’s chest. 

The owner of the yellow coat...isn’t moving. 

Mono bites at his lip. No. That’s not right. Six is always moving. Even in her sleep. 

Six is so very still as the Thin Man places her on the bed. Like he must have with Mono, Mono suddenly realizes. Huh. That’s a weird thing to do. 

Flashing eyes from under that hat’s brim look Mono over. 

“Not as much of a mess as a girl...I suppose this will do.”

A mess? Mono squints under his mask, not sure what that word he’s figured out means...not that he gets time to figure out the rest. 

Not with the Thin Man grabbing at him. 

“No!”

The brief discomfort of a rough cloth visits Mono’s hands and what’s exposed of his neck, as the Thin Man roughly dabs at him with said cloth. Peeling off the dried stains, until Mono can see the color of his actual skin again. 

Once that’s done, the Thin Man puts him down on the ground. Leaves. 

Closing the door behind him with a slam. 

Mono blinks in that direction. 

...What?

“?”

...Why did the monster do that? But...

Enough about the monster, he needs to check on Six!

The bed isn’t too hard to climb back on. 

She’s so still on top of it, laying on her side. Breathing so she’s not dead but...

“Six?” Mono tries. He waits, at a safe distance, offering a hand. 

Eventually, the girl sits up. Shaking her head like she’s waking up from a nap. She takes his hand, rising to her feet.

“Mono,” she answers and Mono can’t help the happy trickle inside at her saying his name. 

She clearly doesn’t want to talk about what just happened, looking away from him. Mono doesn’t want to either. Good thing there’s something more important instead. 

“I’ve got a plan for getting out.”

Six’s eyes are intent in the shadow of her hood. “Show me.”

Easy enough to do. 

They crawl off the bed together. 

Grabbing the Splinter, he directs her attention to the cut he’s made using it. Explains his thoughts on using it to climb like they have with other walls before. 

After looking at the scratch for a little bit, comparing her own hands to its size...

Six points to the other side of the door. “Do it there, so the Tall Man won’t catch us.”

“I can pay attention and hear him!” Mono protests. “You can too.”

Not the same way he can, but close enough. Listening is something they can both do, in different ways. 

Six shakes her head. “Not all the time. Also, jumping from the other side will get the door open faster, don’t you remember that from before?”

Hm. She’s right. Thinking back to other doors they’ve gone through, jumping on the doorknob to pull it down instead of jumping on it does force a door open faster. He’s not sure why, but that is how it works. 

“I guess so.”

Six hums, a satisfied hint to the sound. 

Speaking of sound...

“What did the Thin Man do to you?”

Wordlessly, Six lifts the wrapped up arm. Staring at him.

An angry blush creeps on Mono’s hidden cheeks. “Yeah, but what else? ”

She taps at her own cheeks. Cheeks that are no longer covered in dried blood and bean juices. Same with her hands. 

“He cleaned me off like he did you. I bit him over it, but he didn’t even drop me!”

That’s... “Weird.”

“I can’t figure him out.” Six stomps her foot against the ground. “What does he want?”

Mono tugs at his mask. He can think of one reason why the Thin Man might be interested in them. 

Because no other kid Mono’s ever met could move through TVs, could they? Not like the Thin Man and Mono can. 

Six knows that too, but she doesn’t seem to be thinking about it. Mono finds himself grateful that she isn’t. Because sharing a skill with a monster?

That’s bad. Always bad. 

(Bad enough to leave someone behind over it.)

Six takes the Splinter from him, to start scratching at the opposite door frame herself. He lets her grab it with no struggle. 

Mono says nothing. 

~

The man says nothing. Staring off into space, sitting in his chair. 

Words are difficult, after the long sessions with the Tower. Only images and sounds flood through his brain, an unceasing flood that slowly dies down enough for the man to return to reason. 

Or something akin to reason. 

The process of piecing himself together complete, the man turns his attentions to the one duty he has outside of following the Tower’s whims: tending to the two children within the Tower. 

He feeds them and does his best to clean them up when he can but...

The children have permanently migrated to under the bed frame. Occasionally they’ll crawl out just enough to snatch up what food he’s left for them, but no further. Any other times occur only when the man is not around. 

An irritating situation that leaves it difficult to monitor their condition in a way that he does not have to physically grab them for. And grabbing for them has grown more difficult with the children electing to team up on the hand that goes under. 

The man has not bled this much before in his entire existence. 

His hand lifts and twists before his face, a mess of static and bloodstains from the latest incident of a half hour ago. A minor disaster that had ended up with the man retreating, no child in hand, and a trail of bloodstains in his wake. 

Bloodstains that the Tower will swallow up happily, leaving not a trace of his existence. His own healing kicked in long ago. Only the stains on his own remain, independent as his flesh is from the Tower itself. 

He does not mind the pain. He only minded it when it was a surprise to him. Now, when it is a usual part of his schedule, the man...

His hand flexes. 

A reminder. A reminder that he’s more than the Broadcaster, more than something the Tower can plug into whenever it feels like. 

A frown lingers on the edge of his stiff mouth. 

Also, a sign of how the children are not adapting. Well, adapting beyond using the floor space under the bed for their own uses. And the girl’s fully healed, at least. 

They do not believe that he will not harm them, never mind the amount of times he has not in response to their attacks. Even the slightest of trust, it seems, is an impossibility for children. 

The fingers of his other hand tap against his knee. 

Should he remove the bed entirely-?

Further alterations could be made to the room, now that he’s thinking about the situation. Certain alterations might be better for the room and its inhabitants. 

Such as ways to clean the children more effectively. Or somewhere else the children could go, other than under the bed.

There is something soothing in piecing what to prepare next, like solving a puzzle. This is not a situation that can be solved by the brute power of his overwhelming transmission and that’s...the hole in his chest throbs. 

He ignores the watching eyes peeking out of the corners of the ceiling, because what else can he do?

~

The Tower watches. 

As its Viewers watch it, it watches back. Unceasingly and all consuming, eyes never blinking until melted away entirely. 

It is meat and screaming channels, eyes and flashing screens, all together. Something beyond the shortness of mortal minds. 

The Tower knows want and it meets that want. 

Its watchers want to forget about the world around them and the Tower provides for their desire. 

Children wish to flee their fears, and that too the Tower provides. If the aftermath is less pleasant than hoped for, that’s not the Tower’s fault, it gives what one wants in the end. Not what other lifeforms might need. 

Its Broadcaster has never had a want of his own. A vessel and a tool for the Tower in every shape and form, every cycle that passes, each one the same after another. 

Every Broadcaster is the same, bereft of desire, perfectly hollowed out for the Tower to use in its exploratory proddings of this world. To broadcast from as well, though that is more busywork than necessity, the Tower having spent quite some time broadcasting and tuning on its own long before the Broadcaster tripped into its presence.  

Oh, how the Tower loves its Broadcasters. It would, and has, given them the world many times over. Consumes them whole over and over, washing over every memory and thought that might stand as wreckage and sweeping it away. 

Broadcasters do not need their past, when the Tower will always be there in its stead. 

If there is a future, it is only the Tower. 

And the present? Is it necessary to repeat the thought of the Tower’s forever presence?

The Tower tends to its Broadcasters, one and all. When those Broadcasters tire, it kindly meets their desire of having their term end by lining up a replacement. 

A stable cycle. 

This time...

Something new has occurred. 

He wants. 

But interestingly enough, no matter how the Tower prods and pries, he does not know what he wants. Only that it is related to the children currently within the Tower’s physical frame. 

An ache, the Broadcaster frames it within his meatspace, though there is no physical harm to him whatsoever. 

A flaw. 

A flaw that could be corrected if the Broadcaster knew what he himself wanted, for the Tower to fulfill. But he does not. 

The Tower considers, eyes rolling back into itself. 

It humors its Broadcaster, in allowing him to have these children without its watching present. Perhaps it has humored him for too long, for the flaw has not gone away. Instead, that flaw only increases. Pulling the Broadcaster away from the Tower.  

A delicate situation, for if the Tower devours the children to remove them, the Broadcaster will know and act in retribution. 

But if the children leave on their own...

The Tower is blameless. The flaw, corrected. 

All it has to do is wait. 

Wait and watch. 

~

Sometimes, Mono feels like they’re being watched. 

But what would be watching them? Mono can tell when the Thin Man’s near, and the watching feeling is not coming from him. Mostly. 

Whenever Mono looks around, there’s nothing. Just him and Six and the room furniture. Nothing creeping out of the shadows, or from the corners. 

He puts the feeling aside. For now. 

Because now, he’s got to focus on their escape. 

Between him and Six, the door frame’s gotten pretty marked up. Chunks of wood missing, that they’ve been carefully scattering in the bed sheets to better hide what they’re working on. 

They’re close. Really close. 

The Thin Man hasn’t taken them out of the room since that time when they first made the Splinter, but that only helps. Less chance of him noticing the ruined door frame even if he doesn't move much past the door he always closes behind him. 

Food keeps coming. That’s good. 

The Thin Man trying to pick them up every once in a while, less good. 

Clawing and biting him won’t get the message to leave them alone to sink, so what will? 

...Mono wishes he had a hammer. That would help. 

“We’re done.” 

Mono pauses, looking the doorframe over. 

“We are?”

Six nods. “Yep. Tallest point we can reach.”

That’s right, the tallest point with Six on Mono’s shoulders. Both doing their best not to fall over, scratching with the Splinter. 

“Now?”

“Now.”

Six kneels, hands cupped before her. Ready to boost him up. 

Mono eagerly races towards her. Jumps. She pushes under his foot, up in the air. He reaches out. Digs in his nails the best he can for the nearest scratched in spot. 

Reaching and reaching, he climbs, toes and fingers taking advantage of their work. Until Mono reaches the top of the climbing spots. From there...

He leaps for the handle, across the door. Pulls it down using the full weight of his body, wiggling back and forth to get the door to open too. 

The door slides open without a sound. 

Mono drops down easily from the handle. Staring, for a moment, at the exit before them. 

“We did it!” He shout-whispers, throwing his hands up in celebration. “We did it, Six!”

“We can get out,” she agrees, just as excited. Her eyes are bright and hands in shaking fists by her sides. 

“Now,” they agree as one, darting through the newly opened door. 

Getting out this time, for some reason, seems easier than before. Less turning hallways, after the starting part, straightforward and seemingly leading out instead of in. 

Just what they need. 

As they run, side by side, Mono thinks about the monster they leave behind. He can’t help it, not when they spent so many days around said monster. 

How will he react? Be mad. Monsters always are mad when their prey gets away. 

But after that? 

The Thin Man will get new children. There’s been plenty of pictures painted on walls around the city to show that being the case in the past. Not to mention the strange static-y shadows of kids that the Thin Man left behind for Six and must have with all those others. 

Other children, but it won’t be Mono or Six. That’s the important part. 

Once they’re out of here, the Thin Man will forget about them like every monster does when a kid leaves their territory. 

Mono’s sure of it. 

Chapter Text

A little more time and resources, and the children will accept the room as theirs. The man is sure of it. 

He’ll even assist in that process right now, by getting them used to being out in the room. He rises from his chair and makes for the room, down the nearest hallway. 

The Tower chitters at him. Catching his attention. But not as much as the sight of the room itself before him. 

The man pauses. His eyes catch upon the door to the children’s room swinging back and forth slightly. Instead of closed tight like he had left it. 

He’s not a fool, he knows what the open door means. Must mean.  

The man still strides up to said door, pushing it aside with a shoe for a better look. To confirm what he knows. 

That the children are gone. 

A terrible screech erupts from the man, looking around the room uselessly for any sign of them. Enough transmission layered in the cry to make the entire Tower tremble around him.

Clues. Must put together how the children got out in the first place. 

What can he find, what does he see?

No fresh blood, at the very least they didn’t injure themselves to squirm free. 

His fingers trail along the doorframe. Scratchmarks. Marks deep enough to dig little fingers into, even. Marks that certainly did not come with the frame, made later. 

A hand traces across the air. A jump from the topmost would reach the handle, yes, that is how the door is opened. But how did they make the marks? Look around for more. 

A shard of wood on the floor...he peers over at the bed against the wall. Yes, the same type of wood as the frame. They must have broken it off to use as a tool. Making the climbing marks. 

He really should have removed that bed earlier. Prevented them from hiding their plotting from him. There are many adjustments he has to make, for when he has retrieved them. 

“Foolish children. This world seeks to kill them.”

Now they are at risk. In danger, when they were not in danger within his possession. 

What goes on in their minds, he has no idea. Other than an apparently deep found ability to make everything much more difficult for the man. 

Yet for them to get out so quickly without running into the man just a room over...

Under the brim of his hat, his eyes narrow. 

“You let them out, didn’t you?”

The Tower hums and buzzes. Misdirection is key to its nature. But it cannot lie. Not to the Broadcaster that has known it so long, that it’s dug every inch of its existence into. 

In the end, the truth is revealed. That the Tower did direct one or two hallways around its Broadcaster, did not stop the children from crawling their way out. 

Just to see if they could do it, mind! Not to hurt the Broadcaster at all, of course not. 

The man expresses his displeasure at that revelation. Loudly. 

~

Six stumbles as around them, every visible TV screen flashes and screeches. Several screens shatter into so much glass from the force of the siren. 

Gathering Viewers scream with them, a wailing sound that feels like it’s gonna make her ears bleed. 

Her hands are over her ears. The sound won’t stop. Won’t go away. 

She breathes, Plugging up her ears until all she can hear is her own breathing. Stupid, when a monster could come by anytime to eat her. 

But she needs to make the sound go away. 

Tugging at her arm. Grabbing her hand away from her ear. 

“-ix. Six!” 

Suddenly the noise is gone. It’s just her and Mono. Mono holding her hands, looking at her through the paper mask eye holes. 

Breathing together. 

“That’s him, isn’t it?” she breathes. 

He nods. “It has to be.”

“But...how?”

They left the tower, why would this be the response?

“His territory...it’s not just the tower.”

Mono looks at her solemnly. “It’s the entire city. ”

“No way,” Six blurts out. Even that fake Pretender monster didn’t have so much territory, though it did control the entire Nest. But the Nest is more like the tower the man wanders around, than an entire city. 

It’s too big. 

(How powerful is the Tall Man among monsters...?)

“We need to get out of here.”

“Shut up, we were already leaving.” Six scowls, tugging at her hood. 

“Yeah, but we need to leave faster,” Mono argues. 

That...she can’t fight him on. She doesn’t want to either, because they do need to leave as fast as possible. Especially if Mono’s right about the city being the Tall Man’s territory, not just the tower. 

“We’re already moving as fast as we can,” she says, taking in their surroundings. So many buildings that they have to go through and can’t go around. Buildings that might be full of Viewers, making things take longer. 

Traveling through streets alone won’t be much better either, with the amount of trash to climb over and the large cracks going deep into the ground. 

And...

Her tummy grumbles. 

They still need to eat. 

The crinkling of a paper bag mask as its owner moves his head back and forth. Like he does when he’s thinking. Planning. 

“Monsters don’t go through other monster territory, right?”

Six narrows her eyes. “Mono...”

What is he thinking? She can guess, but that idea...it’s crazy. 

“We can find another powerful monster and just...hide out in its territory. Until the Thin Man forgets about us.”

That’s...

“That might work,” Six allows. “But it’ll be super dangerous.”

“Then we’ll be super careful.”

Sometimes, careful isn’t enough, is what Six doesn’t say. But she’s pretty sure Mono already knows that. He got caught by the Tall Man too, after all. 

Mono’s already rushing ahead. 

Clutching at her growling stomach, Six follows. 

They’ll figure something out. 

They have to. 

~

Mono finds some dried up crackers under a nearby dumpster that they split between the two of them. Enough to get the noises to stop, the most important part, but not enough to fill them. 

Not like the amount of food the Thin Man gave them. Lots of food, all in cans, but food that wasn’t rotten or tasted too funny. 

Plenty of food, but trapped. Trapped for whatever terrible thing the Thin Man was planning to do to them. 

Better free with little food than that. 

The TVs have stopped screaming. But Mono can still feel them vibrating through his bones. A reminder of exactly what they have to avoid. 

If they get too close to a screen, who’s to say the Thin Man won’t just yank them through? No, better to avoid all TVs, surrounded by Viewers or not. 

Mono balls up his hands. 

No matter how much he wants to tune those TVs...because that only got them the Thin Man in the first place. Never again. 

He hates to say anything but...he swallows. Tugs lightly on Six’s sleeve.

“Hm?”

“Six...you can’t let me near any TVs.”

“Like you were doing before.” He can see her nibble at her lip, tongue flicking back and forth. “But I still couldn’t pull you away fast enough, when I tried to stop you. Remember?”

Right. Mono looks away. He sucks at his teeth. 

What do they do, then? Just...try to avoid TVs, he guesses. Not much more they can do, at this point. 

“...If I hear any, I’ll tell you. We can avoid them that way.”

That’s more than she’s offered in the past. 

Swallowing the lump, Mono nods in agreement. 

Six turns her back on him, eyes keen on their surroundings. 

Moving through the city is the same as ever, with the screaming TVs off. Viewers here and there, easy to avoid when their fix is satisfied. 

The further they get from the center of the city, the more likely they are to run into other kinds of monsters. Monsters that aren’t Viewers, he means. The kinds of monsters that travel and trap kids instead of mostly ignoring them, but not the kind of monster that he and Six need to hide from the Thin Man. 

Something like the Teacher or the Doctor, a big monster with other monsters that live and work under it. Risky, but it’s the best chance they’ve got. 

Because big monsters don’t challenge other big monsters. The Thin Man will stay out. 

Once they’ve been around whatever monster it is long enough, they’ll leave. Leave the city entirely. 

Then it’ll just be Mono and Six. 

He can’t wait. 

~

The man has waited so very long, waiting longer is an almost agony to him. 

But wait he must, as he pieces together how to retrieve the missing children. 

His fingers tap on his knee. Considering. 

It will be more difficult to lure them into a trap, this time. Due to their past experience on other traps and the fact that it takes far more energy to alter the Pale City as a whole compared to the Tower itself. 

Mostly because the Tower is the Tower, alive in of itself and wanting to shift around. Not stable concrete like the rest of the City. 

Cornering them is the only way he can catch them, in the long run. Yet the Pale City is full of hiding places. Cornering the children will not be easy. 

But before he can corner them, he needs to find them. 

First, the boy. He will be easier with the transmission he leaks. 

If he recalls the boy’s own tune correctly...

The man raises a hand. Focuses on the invisible strings that make up sound in the air. Channels of different wavelengths. 

He can feel the tracks that boy leaves in his wake, too young and ignorant to be aware of what lingers after him. What transmission lives in him, interfering with the neverending broadcast. 

The man will be able to sense the boy, should he draw close to a TV or be in the man’s vicinity from those imprints. 

Leaving the girl. He needs another way to track the girl, should the two separate. 

(The hole in his chest clenches at that concept, of the two parting.)

Unfortunate that he'll have to go more...manual, for lack of a better term, on her part. 

The man steeples his fingers together, surveying the wall of screens that portray the Tower’s domain before him. Searching for any kind of sign, a place to begin his more physical part of looking. 

A flash of a familiar yellow, in a corner screen. Already gone, when he fully looks, but it is no issue whatsoever to rewind it to check. Yes, that is a certain yellow coat for certain. Next to a child whose head is covered with a bag. Together. 

Something akin to a smile, though too thin and sharp to be truly called on, creeps onto the man’s face. 

“I have my place to start.”

~

A building with pictures of scissors on it seems to be a promising place for a monster to hide, Six decides, and for them to hide too. 

Somewhere they can start their plan to make sure the Tall Man doesn’t go after them.  

Crawling through the broken side window is easy enough, though Mono does end up scratching himself while clawing over the sill. 

Not too much blood, they’re fine. 

Inside...

Dark but for two flickering bald light bulbs, hanging from the ceiling alongside bundles of cloth. Cloth in many different colors, but what colors exactly are hard to tell in the limited lighting.  

Rows and rows of clothes racks, scattered about as though by some angry giant. A few lean, but most stand upright. Still covered in the faded clothing that clings determinedly to their hangers. 

Six creeps to the nearest rack, where the clothing on it all brushes against the wooden floorboards. Easy enough to hide the body and legs of a child in. Mono follows after, crawling a little to the far end so they aren’t too close together. 

Just in case. 

Clattering. Clicking. Something tapping on the floorboards. 

Six peeps through the clothing surrounding her to see the source of the sounds. 

A silvery gleam from sharp points moving their owner across the floor. Dark eyes flicker in a stretched pale face, whose upper body further extends from a bloated abdomen dragging against the ground alongside the ten sharp-pointed legs.

Needle-like claws hang from thin fingers, like the needles hanging from the monster itself. Herself? The hair’s pretty long, all in her face. 

Yep, that’s a monster all right. 

Mono pulls Six back slightly, squishing next to her to get a look himself. 

As they watch, the monster stabs its claws into a person-shaped doll. Pulling out cloth and thread to wrap around said doll, cutting here and there. 

Snip. Snip. 

Six shivers. 

Snip. Snip. 

As the monster, this Seamstress, focuses on her doll, Mono grabs Six’s hand. They run across the floor behind the monster, darting between piles of various fabrics, to get to the closest clothes rack. 

Just in time, for that head with its knotted long hair twists. Glancing about as if looking for a possible visitor. More clacking, as those pointed limbs turn the body off to the side. Down another row that is just wide enough for the Seamstress to squeeze through. 

Sssss, the belly drags. And as it drags, it goes over just far enough to knock a certain rack. A certain rack with children hidden underneath. 

Exposing Six and Mono.

Uh oh.

No waiting, Six turns to run. Knowing Mono is doing the same. 

A rattling screech. The clacking of the limbs grows louder, wild. 

CRUNCH. 

Piercing through the floor near both of their feet, that they barely avoid. Where to go, where to run, before the monster pierces them through-?

There! A strip of bright red cloth hanging from a vent!

Six runs faster, target in mind. Climbing up various boxes that threaten to fall over, full to the brim with various sewing materials, she launches herself off the furthest edge towards that red cloth. 

Grabs on, hands and nails clawing and grasping to keep herself from falling and to pull herself up towards the vent. 

Heaving herself into the vent is an exhaustion and a relief. Across the room, she spies Mono doing the same towards another vent, clambering up from a bright yellow cloth instead of red. 

She waves to him, showing that she’s alright. He does the same. 

Below, the Seamstress yowls, extending jaws in that already too wide face to make it even wider. Before Six can see more, she turns to crawl deeper into the vents. Away from the monster. 

Small tunnels twist and turn. Six avoids the obvious drop-offs when she can, electing to go higher. Not sure if she can climb up if she falls down, after all. Or how deep those drop-offs will go. 

Sometimes kids will fall and not be breathing at the bottom. Six will not be one of those. 

Higher she goes. Until she reaches a point where the vents do not go up anymore. 

Just...down. 

Six peers down the dark gap, measuring it out the best she can. Sloping, so she can slide down? Carefully, slowly, she puts her butt onto the metal. Scoots down using her hands and toes, doing her best to get a grip so not to slide down too fast. 

But then, her hands lose their grip. Too fast, too soon. 

She slips and with a oof, lands wrong on her leg in a new room from the slide. 

A single light above. Boxes and crates all around her. Some are cracked at the bottoms, spilling out their loads of fabric and materials of all kinds of patterns. 

Shimmering, in front of her. But what is it?

Another blink and she understands where the shimmering is coming from. 

Hands! Moving hands, like from the Hospital, but made from needles instead of flesh. Pointy and stabby. 

Also, moving towards her. 

Another uh oh. 

Six climbs up the boxes, away from the clattering metal hands. Her leg hurts, can’t run or climb for long. Have to stop the hands, somehow. 

She glares down at the silvery creatures, climbing around on top of each other and occasionally stabbing at the material that falls down from the holes in the torn up boxes. Reducing that material to shreds, like they will to Six if she falls down. 

Two steps. She breathes, in and out. Focuses. 

Destroy the hands. 

Then find Mono. 

~

Find Six. 

Mono readjusts his mask. Tugs at it back and forth. 

Find Six, somewhere far from this Seamstress who clatters below the ceiling vent he peers through. 

The monster screeches and screams, but the sound is nowhere as bad as the Thin Man’s. Not bad enough to make Mono freeze or flinch. 

Only watching. Waiting. 

Eventually the monster calms down with no children in sight to vent her rage on. As they all end up doing, calming or killing. Nothing in between. Returns to moving about her lair, oversized and lumpy as she may be. 

Mono tugs at his bag once more. Thinking. 

Too risky to run across the floor, from how she’s knocking more hiding places over. Also, bad needle legs, don’t want to get stabbed through by those. Like stepping on a bug. 

Where to go then?

Mono looks up. Searching. 

Threads hanging from the ceiling, needles on the end of each one. Like ropes to climb on, swing from. 

Mono can do that!

Get to the other side of the room, where he spies another vent he can climb into. A vent that is on the same side as Six’s, if a little higher. 

Standing on his tippy toes, he reaches for the closest thread. Holds, when he tugs on it, and holds when he trusts his weight to it. Swinging back and forth. 

Mono barely holds back a cry as he lets go and grabs onto another thread. Causing it to swing too, alongside him. 

On and on he goes, until he’s little more than halfway across the room. Then, in hand, a thread is simply too weak. Too thin to hold the weight of even a very small child. 

SNAP.

The thread breaks. Mono falls. At the sound, the Seamstress twists her head up. Under beetle dark eyes, a ravenous smile full of needles grins. 

No, no, no!

He falls this far, he’ll get really hurt. And the monster reaches out to grab him. To slice him up with her sharp, sharp knife-like fingers. 

No, Mono won’t die. Not here!

Inside, something in his chest pushes. 

The world buzzes. Dims to a strange blue and gray. A blue and gray fizzing that is like falling through water instead of air. 

Slower. 

And the monster...Mono twists in the air. Barely moving. Slower too. 

How-?

/////

“There you are.”

/////

The blue and gray fades away. The slowness goes back to fast fast fast. 

But Mono is already twisted midair. Already landing on the monster’s outstretched arm, instead of that arm catching him. 

He still holds onto the thread with the needle on it. 

Mono reacts. 

He thrusts his arm forward, needle in hand. 

Stabs towards one of those dark, glittering beetle eyes. 

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

The monster doubles over with a howl. Her needle hands go up to her face, but don’t clutch at it, seeing how they’re needles too. 

Hard for hurts, Mono thinks, having needle hands. 

Chance given, leaping off the bent down shoulder, he sprints across the floor towards the red-clothed vent Six used, closer to the first room. Climbs up into it. 

Gotta find Six. 

No matter where she is right now.

Chapter Text

Six pushes over another crate. Watching it topple over on the metal hands below. 

CRUNCH. CRUNCH. 

Another two taken out. The remaining ones clatter and claw, trying to reach her as they figure out ways to climb up towards her. 

Dragging her aching leg behind her, Six moves. Stopping too long has already gotten a hand dropping on her from the wall, one that she barely managed to kick off. If she doesn’t move, others will catch up. 

Next crate...she squints. Off to the left, across the wide open space where the hands lurk below. Can use the smaller black boxes as stepping stones to get to it. 

Balance is harder, with the pain in her leg. She still manages the jumps. What other choice does she have?

Six heaves over the new crate. Still heavy with whatever’s in it. Good for monster killing. 

CRUNCH. 

More hands, gone. Just like she planned. 

She hums in contentment to herself, pleased with her wins. How many more-?

Looks like she’s got most of them, not a ton of movement or reflecting metal down there anymore. 

She’ll just...sit down. For a little bit. 

Thump. THUMP. 

Six looks over at the sounds, just in time to catch Mono falling from the high up vent. 

Um. She tries to stand up, but her leg...can’t. Too weak. 

She snarls at herself, whacks at the ground she sits on. C’mon, she can’t be this weak. Can’t. 

Sounds. Mono, making his way over, having no trouble avoiding the few hands that remain due to not being hurt like she was after falling. 

“Six!” he whisper-shouts, waving his hands in greeting. 

Her leg aches. A reminder of how she’s not standing, can’t get up on it. 

Mono tilts his head. Looking at her, and her injured leg. Not missing what’s happened. 

Is he going to leave her? Other kids have left others behind for less serious injuries. 

Six holds her breath. Waiting. 

He’s looking around. Searching for something?

“Hey, is there a stick or something else like that? You could lean on it until it hurts less, that’s what I did for my leg...”

Oh. 

That’s...surprise. A surprise. 

“Pull me up,” she says. If he’s not planning on leaving her behind, she can have him do that much for her. 

“Sure?” Mono offers a familiar hand. She takes it. Warm. Always so warm. 

Together, they manage to get her onto her feet. Hurts, but...manageable. She can still move on her hurt foot, not as bad as she thought. 

Six heaves a silent sigh of relief. 

“Okay with no stick.”

Mono nods. “Okay, that’s good. Because can’t go back.”

What, because they both fell from the vent? Hard to go back that way. But there are other ways. There are always other ways. 

He continues. “Going back is bad.”

Huh? Six tilts her head. “You make the bug woman angry?”

Mono tugs at his paper bag, moving so the eyeholes weren’t focused on her face anymore. “Uh.”

Of course he did. 

(She would too, if she had the chance.)

“How angry?” she presses. “She hurt enough we can get away?”

“I took out an eye,” he admits, “But there’s something else.”

His hands go to clutch at his stomach. 

“I...I can feel a TV. Down there.”

Bad. 

Six stiffens. Her leg gives off a sharp pain. 

She doesn’t doubt him, not after his other reactions to TVs. Can’t afford to doubt him either. 

“We’ll go there instead.” She points over at the far end of the big room. Far away from the vent they both fell from and the crunched up monster hands. 

A shutter stands between them and whatever’s on the other side. 

Between the two of them, they manage to pry the back shutter open. Just enough for them to crawl underneath.

On the other side...stinky. Gross. 

Six wrinkles her nose. 

The air stinks of rot. A solid wetness to it that lingers at the back of her throat, threatens to choke her. 

Rot and...wax. Burning wax. 

Candles. A hall full of lit candles. So very different from the bare lightbulbs of the monster’s lair and where the hands were crawling around. 

Hm. She glances around, taking in the huge wraps of cloth in various thickness all along the walls. A lot like the needle hand room but also not. Less boxes. 

From how there’s water dripping from some hole in the ceiling on a nearby wheel of cloth... that’s where the rot must be coming from. Gross. 

Mono wanders ahead, poking at some candle cluster. Six does her best to pick herself up. Limping after him. 

On the floor, her foot kicks against a little metal box. 

Six picks it up. There’s a lid to the metal box, one that she flicks back. A little groove that her fingernails scratch at and...she flinches back at the sudden spark of fire that erupts from the tip of the box. 

Oh, fire. Light. 

She puts it into her pocket. Useful, for later. Useful, with all of the candles around. 

Limping after Mono the best she can, Six keeps a sharp eye out. Watching the moving shadows in case they decide to pounce on them. 

An open door lies at the end of the hallway. Leading to a room full of...Six squints carefully, in the flickering shadows and light from the candles in there too. 

Clothing. Clothing hung up from the ceiling and walls, casting shadows of their own. Hard to tell if there is a monster (or more than one) inside, with the shapes of those shadows. 

Clothing full of stitches and...Six wrinkles her nose. 

Rot. 

More rot. More mildew and wetness and bad smells that come from both. 

Yeah, not gonna touch any of that. New clothes would be nice, but clothes full of rot? No way, she’ll stick to her raincoat and her old Nest-given clothes. 

Mono, moving ahead again. His coat is the same darkness as the clothes, letting him almost disappear in the hanging materials. 

Six scurries after him, pulling her leg after the rest of her. 

Why does he have to be so hard to track?!

~

The lingering traces of the boy’s transmission are difficult to track, in the rain. 

Many things are under the conditions of the Pale City. 

The man tilts his head upwards, allowing the water to spill down onto his face. Rain fizzles away, eaten away by his native static, so he feels nothing. 

So much of his ability to touch is gone, due to the nature of his form. 

His fingers twitch. Only the children are able to press beyond it, bring feelings from his flesh to the forefront through their bites and their warm bodies in his hands. 

He saw the flash of yellow around in this district...where to check next?

Which of these dilapidated buildings would they pick to shelter in?

Choices, choices. Far many to choose from. The man clicks his tongue against his teeth. 

He can at least conclude that they would not pick any building with Viewers in it. And avoiding television screens is likely as well. 

If the boy can use TVs to travel, he would be able to sense them. And keep himself and the girl away from those TVs, in a useless effort to avoid the man. 

Filtering out those signals...

Tune in. 

One last try to see if he can sense the boy’s screaming transmission from this spot. If the boy will use it at all, even though it will not be properly. 

TUNE IN. 

//////

The boy reaches out. Desperation drives him to the length, however accidental. 

The boy falls, and sure death awaits him. 

Unless he no longer falls. 

The man’s transmission reaches back to the boy’s. Twists it into the necessary amplitude, curves the wave of the sound tighter.  

/STOP/STOP/STOP/

Transmission, in action, pops and screeches. A signal for any that have the senses to find it. 

//////

The man cannot help himself. He bares his teeth in what could have been a grin, if not for their sharpness. His form almost leaps out of existence if not for him forcing his control on it. 

“There you are,” he rumbles briefly into the boy’s channel, before withdrawing. 

A beacon, directing him where to go. A beacon like the Tower but also the complete opposite. 

His long stride easily takes him to the source. 

A building with wide windows and a sign outside of it. 

Adults inside. 

That has never meant anything to him, as the Broadcaster. 

Hand pressed to his hat, he bends down to go through the door. 

Straightening up on the other side, the man almost gets a faceful of needles for his trouble. Buzzing in irritation, he backs up out of the way of the swinging strung-up objects. Pointy objects. 

Why would anyone decorate like this? Really? 

He shakes his head. Directing his attention to the owner of this particular stabby territory. 

This ‘Seamstress,’ as he is informed her title is, notices him instantly. Even while covering her face, she turns towards him. 

The man has never sought to hide himself, after all. And all adults know who he is, by the reputation if not by action alone. 

The Broadcaster, he who rules the Pale City as his entire territory. 

Gritting his teeth, the man changes channels to comprehend what the Seamstress chatters endlessly about. 

Tuning in to other adults’ mutterings has never been a favored course of action of the man’s. The vast majority of them have nothing useful to say, and what is said is born of instinct and not organized reason. The Viewers, of course, have nothing to say at all. 

They don’t require shared understanding to know that they should fear the Broadcaster. 

He only does this much to ‘convince’ this particular woman to hand over the children wandering through her territory. 

“Broadcaster...apologies, eye gone. Eye gone. Pain.”

Frankly, the man does. Not. Care. If this woman somehow lost her eye or injured it. But she won’t stop moaning about it. 

Makes it difficult in turn to better comprehend her speech from how she keeps covering her face up. Visual is key alongside audio in proper adult communication. 

“Remove your hands,” he orders, putting an unseen pressure to the command.  

Those needle hands instantly fall from her face. Exposing the injury for the man to see. 

The eyeball hangs from the socket by a single string, a needle pierced through it. 

Easy to conclude what occurred.

Even easier to pluck the needle from that eye, close his long fingers around the organ. Shove said organ back into the Seamstress’ head, harsh enough to make her head snap back. Enough to get the eye to stay in that skull. 

The Seamstress blinks both eyes at him, wrapping her hands together and bowing once she’s fully realized what he’s done. 

“Gratitude to the Broadcaster.”

“Yes. Now, tell me, how did this happen?” The man already knows, of course, but getting her onto the topic is vital for his tracking of the children. 

“Vermin- pests- wander in. Ruin work!” The Seamstress throws her hands up, needle fingers gleaming in the light available. Indicating the torn clothing about them, the knocked over hangers and racks.

Yes, yes, that has been made more than clear. The man may have not even needed that flash of the boy’s...exploits to know what’s been happening here.

Children are ever so messy, in the end.  

“They are MINE,” the man emphasizes. “If you find them, they will be returned to me.”

The Seamstress bows her head, hands twitching before her. 

“Your prey-? Broadcaster. Yes, will herd if possible.”

If possible. The man ‘s fingers twitch. His transmission increases its buzzing and noise, becoming more than clear that he’s not going to take ‘if possible’ as an option. 

“You will give them to me, no matter what. Not only if possible ,” the words rattle and hiss out of him like the constantly falling rain in the Pale City. 

The Seamstress’ many legs jitter and shake. 

“Of course I obey-!” she protests, daring to raise her head to better look at him. Her hair covers most of her face, but he can see (barely) her eyes. 

A hand twitches at his side. Resisting the urge to take back what he fixed. 

“Only...”

Her head lowers once more. 

“Not only resident. Here. ”

A single finger twitches upwards. At the ceiling. At the floors above. 

~

These upper rooms are much darker than the ones belonging to the monster downstairs, Mono observes. 

No lightbulbs, just clusters of candles glowing in the corners. 

His eyes look for any kind of movement, outside of the firelight flickering. 

Six moves steadily in his shadow, even with a limp. Guarding his back as he guards her. 

Past the door, he peeks in carefully. Very carefully. 

He senses no fuzz of a TV like he does from downstairs, the sense that keeps getting stronger for some reason. 

Reminds him of when the Thin Man used to lurk outside the cage of a room he kept them in...

Mono flicks his hands, trying to chase away the shiver running down his spine. 

Six shakes her head at him. 

Right. But he’s not making any sound. They’re okay. 

More candles. More water dripping from above, making sounds. And the clothes everywhere, of course. Can’t forget those. 

None of them are as awesome as his own coat. Look soggy too, won’t be touching any of those. 

Gray light. The kind of light from the outside. Mono brightens at the idea of a clear exit, and spies said exit. A window. 

He nudges Six. Points to it. Her face brightens under her hood and she nods back. 

Now, to carefully make their way across the entire messy room towards their way out.  

Through the hanging stuff and under the many chairs, they crawl. Mono knocks against something, and looks over to check what it is. 

Oh, a stick! A mostly flat stick, strange markings running up and down it. 

He crouches to pick it up. Offering the stick to Six, maybe that’ll help with her hurt leg?

She shakes her head. Gestures for him to carry it. Use for a weapon. 

Yes, he’ll do that. 

Shadows moving around them. 

Shadows that are moving more than the candle flames were doing before. 

He readies his stick. Six stiffens, reaching into her pocket for something. Mono doesn’t see what, focusing on the shadows peeling themselves from the clothing and walls surrounding them. 

Monsters!

Monsters that are wrapped up like the tall patients from the Hospital, but no skin or plastic or clothing showing. Just bandages and wrappings outlining a human-like shape. Walking towards them. 

The new monsters are small. Child sized, like the breakable ones from the Prison place. 

One reaches for him, with a hand that isn’t a hand but a bunch of entangling bandages. Trying to wrap around his arm. 

He whacks it. With his stick. 

But-

Before his eyes, the bandages just wrap around that space of nothingness, and the bandage monster continues to try to grab his arms. Like nothing had happened. 

How...?

How to take down the monsters, if there’s nothing inside to hit?

A flicker of light, off to the side. Mono doesn’t take his eyes off the monsters, that’s stupid, but he flicks his eyes to track that light. As quick as he can, just in case. 

It’s coming from Six. Or more accurately, a small box she’s flicked open in her hand. A box that produces fire, spreading onto another monster’s stretched papery limb. It crackles, drawing back too late to stop its eruption into flames. 

That’s right. Fire! Fire burns cloth!

Drop the stick, there’s another weapon he can use here!

Mono grabs for a nearby candle immediately, almost hissing at the sting of hot wax dripping onto his hand. He thrusts at the empty clothing monster, and the monster draws back right away. Avoiding getting set on fire. 

But now he knows it works. 

He smiles. All teeth. 

Soon after, the cloth monsters beat a hasty retreat, sounding of crackling paper. 

Yes! Mono pumps a fist in celebration. Six waves a hand at him, warning him not to make any noise. 

He won’t, he’s not stupid. 

Not when he spies that much taller shadow by the window. Turning towards them, a pointed hooded shadow in white cloth surrounded by lots of black. Like a dress almost, dangling off the edge of a typical monster-sized chair.  

Six scoots closer to him, fingers pale and tight about her fire-box. 

Only teeth in that hood. Glowing teeth, snapping and hungry. 

One of its sleeves whips out. 

Before Mono can back away, the dark cloth wraps tightly around his arm. Pulls him forward, until he can hear his shoulder pop.

“Ah!” He bites on his tongue, trying to dig his heels into the ground as the monster yanks him closer and closer. 

Six hisses. Rushing after him, holding her fire-box up and out. 

She touches the live flame to the cloth arm and the creature’s arm goes up. Fire races up to the hood, as Six grabs him to get out of the way. 

Closer to the window. 

Farther from where the monster screams and thrashes, completely on fire. 

The sight is hard to look away from. 

He doesn’t, anyway, until the fire and screeching dies down. 

Just to check it can’t do anything else. 

Click goes the sound of Six closing her fire-box. Sliding it back into her pocket. 

“Children.”

Mono’s stomach almost revolts, the static of the TV below suddenly stronger and burning through his blood like before. 

But it’s not a TV, suddenly turned on. Something worse has appeared instead. 

The Thin Man. 

He’s here. Staring at them. Moving closer, glitching in and out with each step. 

Mono stares. Frozen in place. 

Lucky for him that his friend is not. 

Six yanks him through the window behind them. 

They fall. 

~

Falling. Again, with the falling. 

The man pinches at the bridge of his nose, useless as the gesture may be. 

No need to bother folding himself to look out after them. Not when in that time they’ll be up and running away once more. 

Fast. 

The children are clever as well as fast, yes. Enough to fight back against the vast majority of adults they will encounter. Flee from others they cannot. 

But ill luck also has its place in such encounters. Injuries will also build up, he’s already caught a glimpse of the girl limping and the boy rubbing at his shoulder. Injuries that make them slower and closer to suffering something serious that cannot be healed. 

If not death itself. 

The man rumbles, discontent. That static rolls through his flesh, a small thunderstorm in the making. 

If only they would return to him. But these children are wild beasts, unable to understand so much, even with him taking actions to prove his trustworthiness.  

There is a reason adults tend to call them pests, in the end. 

He rolls his knuckles up around his thumb. Letting the static build until it snaps. A pop in the air. 

Even with new preparations in mind, the man is not so much a fool to think that the children will not find yet another way to escape after further rejection of his offers, after returning them to where they belong. 

Not with the Tower more than eager to facilitate their running, its central motive on the matter still unknown to him. 

The man will have to...he pinches his lips together. 

Take more extreme measures. Make it absolutely certain to any who encounter the children exactly who they belong to. 

Difficult and painful? No doubt. But it will have to be done. Once he catches them, of course. 

Turning from the window, his foot pushes at the bundle of rags that made up the Tailor’s body off to the side. 

“Ergh.”

Hm?

There was a grunt, in response to him kicking at the body. 

He peers down towards the facial section, catching a glimpse of a mouth opening and closing in those shadows. More than death throes, an actual physical response of the living.

Truly sturdy, this Tailor. Despite appearing to be made of mostly (now burnt) cloth and lacking lower limbs.  

“You’re still alive...how fortunate for you.”

The man considers leaving her to die. Another adult who merely went in over her head, encountering those who did not hesitate to strike her down first.

Everyone gets left behind, sooner or later.

(Darkness surrounding him. All gone, all gone. Except for the eyes. )

His eyes flicker. 

Hm, yes. The Tailor at his feet. Dying, most certainly. Will die if he leaves as planned. 

But.

The children are not leaving each other behind, are they? They’re staying together, where it might be easier to part. 

These two, Tailor and Seamstress, linger around each other, where most adults would have chased out rivals long ago. Partners in a different form. 

He supposes he can do this much. Return the Tailor to the Seamstress and let the two handle the situation from there. 

Holding back a sigh between his teeth, the man squats down to place his hands under the wreckage of the Tailor’s form. Slowly lifts. 

“Hold still. I would hate to further damage you.”

Chapter Text

Six’s hands are bloody. As are her feet. The kind of hurts that can be prevented by being careful when falling out of a window. 

But with the Tall Man right there, there was no time to be careful. To check where the best place to land is. Only to fall and hope. 

The hope...sort of worked out? As Six stands up, Mono does the same but clutching at his arm. The same arm that the cloth monster yanked at. Hurt. 

Right away, he walks up to the brick wall. Leans against it on the hurt arm side, starts pushing it and his body into the wall. 

“Need to put it back,” he explains. 

She nods. Makes sense. If the arm is out of the socket, needs to go back in or won’t be able to climb or throw. Very important. 

Six picks the pebbles out of her palms while Mono works on his arm. Running into the wall, rolling the shoulder back and forth...he does what any kid can with an injury like that: his best. 

Until he finally steps away from the wall, satisfied. 

“Good?”

“Good.”

Time to get moving. Before the Tall Man gets out of the monsters’ lair after them, somehow. The monsters’ lair that didn’t work to keep him away, like it should. 

Six frowns. Then what...then what would keep him away? So different. Bad different. 

“He went in the lair.”

Mono hums. “Maybe because we already hurt the monster there?”

He makes a clicking noise, like her fire-box. “You burned a lot of it.”

Makes sense, if the threat of another monster was no longer there and the Tall Man could tell...

“But we can’t hide near monsters, if we have to fight back,” she points out. 

“Right.” Mono scratches at his coat sleeve. “We’ll have to be careful. Hide in the buildings, until we can leave the city.”

Right. The same plan as before. But the only plan they can have, that might keep working.  

Down a few streets, around various cracks and breaks, they come across an entire alley plugged full of Viewers. 

Viewers that are...looking up? Yes, looking up towards the end of the alley. Six cranes her neck to check. There’s a low fuzzy grey screen at the end, a TV just managing to keep their attention. Whew. Close one. 

A sting to the air, a sting to her tongue. A stutter in which the whole world stops, in blue, for just a moment. 

She knows what that’s from. Look. Where?

There. 

The Tall Man. Coming behind them. 

Mono’s already freezing up again, something about the Tall Man makes him go all crazy inside. If not for her, the Tall Man would have killed him already, she’s certain. 

Six lightly touches his arm. That’s all Mono needs, to shake himself back into his body. If he needed anything more, she would have to leave him behind. 

(Doesn’t want to. But she doesn’t want to die either.)

They run. Run and run, with that steady beat of footsteps and static behind them. 

Six hates how familiar that sound is now. 

Not towards the Viewers, but where-?

Mono tugs at her arm. Towards a ladder, a metal ladder going up the side of a nearby building to a walkway. Perfect!

She jumps onto it, Mono clambering up behind. Faster, faster. Until they both reach the top, which is not as high up as she’d like. So much harder when your enemy is taller than most monsters. 

Mono starts to tug at the ladder, getting it up a little bit so certain tall monsters can’t grab on its end. Leaving Six to look around for anything they can use to drive the impossible monster back. 

On the metal walkway, there’s a brick. A weapon. She picks it up, gleefully enjoying how easily it rests in her messed up hands. 

Can she-?

She looks around. Farther. Off the metal walkway, towards the Viewers in their alley.

The TV is on the edge of the wall. Strange that it hasn’t fallen over already, onto the Viewers crowding towards its light below. All it needs is one last push to finally fall. 

Her hands tighten around her brick. 

A push that Six can give that TV. Enough to smash it on the ground below. Freaking the Viewers out, but they won’t be able to get her or Mono from where they are above. 

If the Tall Man buzzes and is full of static like the TVs...maybe the Viewers will go after him. Even if they don’t, the stupid monsters will be annoyed enough by their lost TV to attack anyone nearby. 

Which the Tall Man is. Right now. 

She heaves the brick up. Eying the back of the TV for better aim. Need to hit just right, before the Tall Man gets to them. 

Six looks down the street. Seeing how close the monster is. Closer than before, but not close enough to grab and yank. With or without the strange powers he has. 

The Tall Man’s eyes are on her. She can feel them. Ugh, bad feeling. 

She stares back in challenge. Readying her brick. 

The Tall Man’s head twitches slightly in...a shake of his head. 

Is he saying no ?

Six blinks, under her hood. 

Monsters don’t talk, but the Tall Man is a different kind of monster. Could he-?

Doesn’t matter. 

She throws the brick.

~

Mono watches the brick arc through the air. Hitting the back of the TV perfectly. 

It falls but he doesn’t see much of what happens after that, with Six yanking on his coat sleeve. 

He follows her along the wall. Pausing only to climb into a window, when she kneels to support him through one. On its sill, Mono lowers his arms to pull her up after him. Into a room full of cardboard boxes, boxes to climb over into an even bigger room. A room split in half, floor all broken up. 

A few minutes pass as they sit there to catch their breath. 

“...have you ever heard of a talking monster?” Six eventually asks. 

Mono’s heart quickens. Is she-?

“Are you talking about the Thin Man?”

Her eyes narrow at him. “Wait, you’ve heard him talk?”

And didn’t say anything, goes unspoken between them. 

Mono tugs at his bag. “I think it’s words. It’s hard to tell, under all the buzzing...”

“I guess your ears are better than mine,” she allows. She tugs at her hood. “But I saw him shake his head at me. Like he was saying no.”

“About what?” he asks curiously. 

Six smirks. “Me knocking the TV over, so the Viewers would attack him. ”

“Ha! I guess that is something a monster would tell you no on.”

“Yeah, it does almost make sense.”

Six rubs at her knee. At her bloody foot. 

“But...it’s weird.”

He won’t disagree with that. A talking monster is weird. It’s why he wasn’t really sure if he was hearing words from the Thin Man in the first place. But if Six’s noticed something too...

Then Mono’s not crazy. 

A single long plank stretches out across the chasm that lies between the two sides of the broken up room. Looking over the edge...Mono frowns. 

He points, directing Six’s attention to what he sees. 

A monster, bulky with dirty clothing and rags, pacing back and forth. A monster that must be a hunter of some kind, judging by the piles of snapping traps and box cages that surround it. 

Can’t let it hear them or see them. Careful. 

Mono starts across the plank. Watching his footing. Aiming for the other side of the room, towards the door he spies there. 

The plank creaks. 

Mono freezes. Don’t make noise, don’t make noise...right behind him, Six does the same. Waiting for the noises to stop. 

SNAP.

The plank breaks underneath them. Sending them into a freefall. Unable to grab anything to stop themselves. 

Can he slow things like he did before with Seamstress? Before she grabbed him?

Mono desperately reaches. 

//////

Nothing. Nothing, but static in his ears. Falling down next to Six, onto the hard ground below. To where the monster lurks. 

Clawed hands scoop them up while they’re still dazed, trying to focus. Drops them onto metal ground, and Mono sees, all around them, metal bars. 

The top of the cage closes. 

He reaches up to push. Locked. Stuck. 

Just like that. 

After all their running, all their plans, they’re trapped. 

~

The man watches as the girl’s chosen weapon flies through the air. 

It hits its target perfectly. 

The TV falls, screen first, onto some unlucky Viewer’s head. Killing it instantly, the creature slumping over with the smoking box still surrounding its faceless head. 

A moment of almost silence, as the Viewers all comprehend their loss. 

Then, as one, they turn their attention to the nearest source of the Signal: himself. 

Clever. Irritatingly clever.

His last glimpse of the girl is of her boosting up the boy through a nearby window and scurrying in after him. 

Then the mob of Viewers is upon him.
They cannot harm him. 

Their energy sucking is merely an extension of the Tower’s own, unable to damage its Broadcaster. Their limbs are weak from inactivity, lacking the claws or extended strength of other adults.  

No, they are merely...annoying. In the way. 

Taking up valuable time as the children get further and further away. Valuable time that he’s already been losing from how the Seamstress tripped over herself earlier in attempts to ‘give him a favor’ for saving the Tailor from her destroyed lair. 

So many small irritations building up together. 

“CALM DOWN. ” The man unleashes his transmission. Returns to the soothing he did for the children, forces it upon the Viewers that have nothing left of their minds to lose under the pressure. 

Having such a pure source of the Signal turn its attentions on them is too much for the Viewers. They drop, like puppets with their strings cut. Not getting up any time soon. 

The man huffs, letting his lip curl up with disgust. Really, that little? Even the children need more than that to stop fighting him. 

He steps around and over the bodies. 

Ready to begin his hunt. Again. 

///////

The man tilts his head. Readjusts his hat. 

The boy, sending out another signal of distress. 

He does not bother replying this time, only tracking to its source. Quicker than he did last time. 

Yes, within the building he witnessed them climb into together. Somewhere in the middle of it. The signal is no longer moving. But it is still present. 

The boy yet lives, though he may be in danger. 

Moving into the building is no hassle, once the man discovers a connection through a TV resting outside its front doors and another screen a few floors within. 

The tunnel is louder than usual, due to his longer absence from the Tower, but the cut travel time is well worth the price. 

Further static follows him as he in turn follows the boy’s weak signal. Stronger than before, due to his usage of transmission on the Seamstress. Useful in finding him this time. 

In a wider room, musty and falling apart, he finds them. 

A cage off to the side of a pile of them. Upright. A cage that shakes occasionally and that...

The man tilts his head. 

The boy’s transmission is coming from that cage. A flicker of yellow lets the man know that the girl is there alongside him. 

Right there, ripe for him to simply take-

Something roughly grabs at his upper arm. The man roughly pulls himself free, turning to see exactly what dares to lay a hand on him. 

An adult dressed in layers of coats and rags, clawed fingers the clearest part of its body exposed. Snuffling and snarling, saying something about...interfering with its hunt?

Of course. 

It’s clear what this adult must be. One of the many hunters that prowl at the edges of the City, occasionally coming into it to track down their prey. Most are fairly weak, barely more than the Viewers who inhabit the Pale City. 

Scavengers, and certainly not beholden to the Tower and its Signal. 

Whether it hurt the children or not, he needs to get rid of it. 

Vermin.

Simple enough of an issue to take care of. 

There’s even a convenient television set to use, off it may be. 

His fingers flex. 

Off to the side, the TV fizzes to life. 

The adult pauses. The man acts, grabbing at its collar. 

He forces the opposing adult’s head into the screen. The Tower will be more than happy to take care of the rest. 

That done (and ignoring the thrashing legs), the man turns his attention to where the children are. Trapped in a metal cage, crawling back as far as they can get away from him.

Uncomfortable (and afraid) the children must be in this cage, the man won’t let them out of it for the time being. 

Not when the cage serves as a convenient way to transport both children while allowing him to keep one hand free in the process. And knowing where they will be is also useful, after chasing them for so long. 

Is there anything else he needs to take care of, before bringing the children back?

The man examines the area, seeing the traps laid out and furniture scattered about. Broken furniture, most of it, matching the mostly missing ceiling above. Whatever supplies that may have existed in here have been long since scavenged up. 

Two doors. One that leads to the hallway and the stairs to get up to this floor. Another to a smaller room. 

A room off to the side that has...

The man hums at the sight. 

A tub. And a sink. Either could provide working water. Water that will work well enough in cleaning off dirt and other filth. 

Hm. 

Yes. 

He’ll do that. 

The children are filthy yet again, after all. 

~

Movement, as the cage is picked up. But, from what Mon can see, squinting past the bars, it’s not the new monster. 

It’s the Thin Man. 

Huh? What happened to the trapper that got them? What? 

“Six.” Mono pushes at her shoulder. “Do you see what happened to the other monster?”

Six peers around carefully, crawling up to the bars much like Mono himself. 

“Hard to see...nothing.”

What’s going on? That shock of... something to the air, the sound of a TV turning on, the Thin Man had to do something. But what?

The cage is suddenly picked up. Knocking the two off their feet. And the cage is moved along, in a rolling motion that makes it even more difficult for either of the kids to make it back onto their feet. 

When Mono squints out, he can see it’s the Thin Man that’s grabbed the cage. Moving them who knows where in it. 

Moving them somewhere and then stopping. Stopping to tilt the cage, one side of it opened up. With a squeak, they roll down the new slope. Down onto a slick white surface. A surface that curves around them. 

He’s let them out into a tub. 

Mono almost cries out in realization, only choking back the sound just in time. 

Tubs are bad. Their slick white sides are impossible to climb, and oftentimes they’re filled with water. Water that tempts too many kids, kids that accidentally slide into it while trying to get a drink and then drown when they can’t swim anymore. 

Tubs are even dangerous for adults. Like that one huge body Mono found in a tub in the Hospital. 

They’re going to die here. 

Mono feels a pinch at the collar of his coat. Dragging at him. Sliding out of his coat is the only way free of that grab, as horrible it is to lose his coat to the monster. But that seems to be the Thin Man’s plan, seeing how he does the same to Six and takes her coat too. Moving the coats to...who knows where. 

The click of a wheel turning. Water falls from the faucet over the tub. Into the tub. 

Mono swallows. Waiting for the water to rise, to eventually go above their heads. Is that what the Thin Man wants? To drown them? 

Is that the end plan?

But the water doesn’t go any higher than around the middle of their lower legs. The faucet is shut off almost as quickly as it was turned on. Leaving them to shiver in the chilly water. 

Six eventually sits down in that water. Letting it wash over the cuts she has on her soles and ankles. Making the water a little red from it. 

She cups her hands into the water. Drinking it. “Safe water.”

Yes, that’s right. Water from pipes is usually good and the tub is connected to pipes. Mono takes his chance too, for some clean water, carefully navigating his hands so as not to get his paper mask too wet. 

A burst of static from above reannounces the Thin Man’s presence. 

“For the sake of- of course you heathens would start drinking the bathwater. Of course.”

The Thin Man’s coat is gone too. More of his grey staticy skin is exposed on the arm he reaches into the tub, sleeves rolled up. Does a tub just mean no coats, is that why he took them?

There’s a rag in hand that he dips into the water. Once wet, he dabs at them like he did the last time he had a wet rag. Scraping off the dried blood and dirt and whatever other yucky stuff on their skin. Cleaning them and their clothes off. 

Too rough, it hurts. Mono pushes at the hand. They don’t need help either, they can clean themselves!

“Stop fighting me,” the Thin Man grumbles. Words in the grumbling. Wanting them to stop fighting back, to stop trying to get away. 

Mono does his best to meet those wrong wrong eyes. 

“No.”

The Thin Man pauses. Those eyes focus intently on Mono’s face. Mono fights the urge to flinch back, because his face is safe. Hidden, behind his mask. 

“Oh? You understand me, now?”

Understand- what? Mono shakes his head, saying another, “No.”

Because he’s not gonna agree with the Thin Man trapping them. 

A huff. A hint of something twitching at that mouth. 

“I see.”

“What is he saying?” Six hisses, eying the two of them. “I don’t hear the words.”

Mono shuffles his feet. Enjoying the little splashes the movement makes. 

“He doesn’t want us to fight him, I think.”

Six scrunches up his face. “Of course he doesn’t, monsters hate kids fighting them. I could’ve guessed that!”

“You didn’t,” Mono reminds her. She asked him instead. 

Six shoves him. He slips, plopping over onto his butt. 

“Hey!” He reaches out to grab at her leg-

A long hand pushes in between them. Preventing any further fighting. 

“Enough. We’re almost done here.”

The Thin Man takes Six out first, even as she fights him. As they always do. Takes her out, so Mono prepares for his turn, curling his hands into fists. 

But the monster doesn’t reach for him. At least, with more than two fingers and a thumb going for...?

His mask! Mono shrieks, clamping his mask against his head with his hands. No, no! No one gets to take his paper bag!

“Whether you like it or not, I am cleaning your face. Give up.”

Pinching. Pressure. The mask is ripped off his head, exposing his bad bad face to the Thin Man. Who then starts to rub at his cheeks with the rag. 

The Thin Man is the worst. 

Chapter Text

Every new encounter with the Tall Man leaves Six certain of one fact: he’s really annoying. Annoyingly stubborn in everything he does, whether that’s hunting them down or rubbing at them to get them ‘clean.’

Or grabbing her when she’s not a toy! All the time!

She glares at what she can see of his back, from the cage. The cage that now has some kind of fabric laid on its rough bottom for her to sit on. 

Again, another strange Tall Man thing. 

He’s poking at Mono now, and she would be more worried if not for the Tall Man’s past actions proving that he really prefers dealing with the two of them one at a time. Makes sense. One kid can’t team up on an adult with no other kids around. 

And they were getting pretty good at stopping him from carrying either of them off before the escape happened...

Six frowns at the stubborn lock. Gives it a kick for being so stuck. Bad for kids getting free, bad cage that she’ll need to smash once she gets out. 

Smash to prevent from getting stuck in it again. 

At least she has her coat back to huddle into. But she hates that the Tall Man first took it in the first place and then gave it back. 

Like she’s supposed to be grateful to the monster or something crazy like that. 

No, stop thinking about that. 

Stupid to distract herself from the threat right before her, but said threat isn’t being a threat at the moment. Weird as that is to admit. 

What can she see from here...? Six stands on her tippy-toes, looking around the best she can around the scary backside of the Tall Man. The cages and traps from before, the bloodstains she can smell, must be fresh...

Ah. She can see it now. The body on the floor, dangling from the TV set...she knows that clothing. The claws Six can spy on the hands limp against the floor. 

That’s what happened to the other monster. 

The Tall Man killed it. Makes sense, she didn’t really think it would have happened any other way. 

She scoots closer to the bars, squinting through. How did he kill this other adult, though? No blood she can smell or see, other than the really old stains on the floorboards near the other cages. 

Maybe the neck? Some monsters have a lot of strength, and Six has seen too many kids simply stop moving after a sudden snap of their necks in a giant grip. Hard to tell, seeing how the head is in the TV, is the neck a weird angle or not?

It is looking a little...bloated? Huh, was that adult always that fat?

“What are you looking for?”

She opens her mouth to explain, but in a way, the Tall Man explains for her. Using actions, not words. 

His foot nudges at the leg of the body. 

The body that isn’t...Six rubs at her eyes. 

That isn’t there anymore. Only empty clothes, sliding out of the unmarked television. 

“...that body went poof, right?” Mono whispers, huddling closer to her. 

She swallows. Yeah. Yeah, it did. 

“Bad,” Six whispers, lacking any other words for the sight. Because bodies don’t just disappear like that. They always stay, until eaten or rotten away. 

“Like the empty clothes,” Mono says, making connections that never would come up for her. Mostly because they don’t matter. Until now, she guesses. 

“The empty clothes everywhere in the city. Do you think-?”

Could a monster kill that many? Six has no idea of knowing for sure. But the Tall Man is a strange monster, unlike any other. 

Maybe he could. 

Maybe he would, with the entire city being his territory. 

How do you get away from a monster that reaches so far?

~

The man watches the empty clothing of the adult slide out of the television.

Holds back a sigh. Oh, he knows exactly what happened here. 

Exposed to the Signal so directly and completely allowed the Tower to see the adult. Creeping inside, curious as always, the physical Flesh that reached out grows its many eyes to see more of its new...host. Always forgetting that life generally cannot survive having physical eyeballs grow inside their lungs. Or other important organs. 

The man rubs the heel of his hand at his chest. 

Having transmission constantly running through his veins and nerves serves to keep such clusters from fully infiltrating his flesh, when the Tower looks at him for too long. 

Explodes such clusters, actually. Fairly common.  

Does not mean it is not a painful process. 

For those who lack such transmission, of any kind...

The host dies. The Flesh spreads, trying to understand why it died.  

Until there is only Flesh. Consuming every bit of the human underneath. 

Since the Flesh cannot survive long outside its framework, it vanishes. Taking the form of its victim with it, leaving only clothing behind. The vanished Flesh is easily taken in as the exposed transmission it now is. 

It’s an uncommon method for the Tower to use in consumption these days, when it has a Broadcaster to send its Signal through and to entertain it. To be eating in this fashion now...

A clear sign of the Tower’s impatience. That this excursion has taken too long for its personal tastes. It wants the Broadcaster to return. 

But not yet. He cannot return yet. Cannot do this inside the Tower. Not without the Tower possibly hijacking and ruining the process. 

There is little the man retains of his early years, before he grew into his role. The Tower has washed most of it away. 

But one particular event could never be erased. 

There’s simply too pain in it for that. And human bodies (or what remains of them, after being twisted and reshaped like the man’s has) are far too skilled for their own good at retaining pain. 

A pain that started...in his hands, he believes. In the palms?

He traces at a palm, before slowly curling his fingers inwards. 

“No...back of the hand, was it?” he muses, turning said hand over. Fascinating to see the tendons flex under the papery skin, even moreso knowing that it’s not exactly flesh and blood anymore despite its appearance. 

An unnatural energy runs through him. 

The Tower’s energy and brand. Marking him as its own, its Broadcaster. 

Now and forever. 

Now...

He plans to do the same, isn’t he? 

“I’m only delaying the inevitable,” he says to no one, everyone. “I already knew I would do this after I went after the children.”

Not a choice at all, or a choice already made. No changing it. 

The Tower may be less disagreeable when he returns. But the children certainly won’t. The boy and the girl both will attempt to run again. They may even succeed. And if they do...

None will touch the children. Not with his mark on them.

First, he needs to find a room where the children will not be able to run out of. Or climb out of, or break out of, or any other method of escape. 

Somewhere other than this floor, preferably. This floor that creaks underneath him, sounding hollow and rotten, threatening to break apart like the ceiling above. 

He picks up the cage, and the inhabitants inside protest. Loudly. 

Why wouldn’t they?

They’re afraid and his heart itches and threatens to burst. Hopefully the sensation is not from a cluster of Tower-given eyes, that would be an annoyance. 

He rubs at his chest, to chase the phantoms away. 

Going only a floor down surprisingly makes a world of difference. Less splintered wreckage and certainly no signs of the trapper’s presence here. The doors are nicely whole as well, instead of full of holes or weak wood that a child could knock through. 

The door knobs are still within reach, unfortunately, of a child. If the man is watching, that won’t be much of an issue. 

But then, with what he’s intending to do, it won’t matter if they open the door or not, will it? He’ll find them nonetheless. 

Ah. He breathes out upon seeing a room that fits his needs. 

No windows, no broken walls, no tools to facilitate the breaking of said walls. There’s a greyed-out couch, pushed up against the far wall. There’s also a table off to the side. 

A table that will work perfectly for his work.  

He sets the cage down. Opens it to snarling children. Feral. So very feral. 

The girl first. It will be more complicated to mark her, due to her lack of inherent transmission for him to twist and reform. 

She bites, of course. Fights with all the strength available to her. Which of course means nothing to him. Like it always has. 

Keeping her still with the pressure of his transmission is simple enough, on the tabletop. Her struggles are nothing against it. 

The man curls his hand into a mimicry of a claw, though lacking real claws himself. 

He has no need for such alterations and never will. 

(Make the children his. )

The man tunes. 

~

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”

Six is screaming. 

She’s never made any sounds louder than a whisper, and sometimes snaps at Mono when she thinks he’s too loud, so it’s even more terrible. The screaming. 

Even worse as it dies into hoarse howls and then into rasping for air. 

Like she can’t stop. 

What does he do? What can he do? Mono taps against the bars, checking the corners, the floor. Anything. Anything to get out. Get away. 

A crackling in his ears. 

He winces, as the sound pops and hisses. Sounds sudden and just loud enough to interrupt Six’s cries. Static but also more than that. 

Mono bends over, shoving his hands over his ears. Stop, stop, stop!

“Stoooop,” he moans. Biting at one of his own hands, they’re not helping to make things quiet. Choosing to hurt is better than to be made to hurt, Mono knows. 

Bite. He bites. Hard enough to leave marks on the skin, though not to break through. 

No blood. Not that hurt. 

The screaming stops. Bad. Is Six...?

He shakes his head. So hard his mask almost flies off. No, can’t help.

The Thin Man comes for him next. And no fighting can get the monster to put Mono down. 

The Thin Man puts him on his back. Against hard hard wood. The wood of the table. 

Laid on a table, unable to move? This is what happens to kids who become foods. 

No, no! He won’t get eaten! He won’t. He squirms. He fights, and growls, and hisses. 

The eyes above him pay no attention. None at all. 

Mono can’t get up from off his back, the hand of the Thin Man keeping him flat. The weight of the static of the air pins him too. 

The hand lifts. But the static traps Mono more. 

In the hand above him, Mono can see. A static-y shadow, like the ones of other kids he saw on his way here, humming and sad and abandoned. 

But the shadow is his. Mono’s. Stolen from him, cracking in and out of his sight. 

There’s something missing about it, when he squints through the sparking. A hole, in the chest. 

Then the Thin Man pushes the shadow back into him. 

//////

Hurtshurtshurtshurtshurts. 

MINE.

Screaming. 

//////

Mono passes out.

~

The energy currently going through the Pale City is at unheard levels. 

Energy that, even more strangely, is not coming from the Signal Tower and its Flesh cradled within. 

Every so often, in time frames that are impossible to track when time does not truly pass, the Tower will light up in its own power. Signifying its transfer between Broadcasters, getting its claws into a new individual. 

But it cannot be that. Not with the power emulating from elsewhere in the Pale City. 

The unknown factor to the situation is enough to drive the inhabitants of the City nearly mad, Viewers and the more intelligently inclined adults alike. 

Wild and afraid. 

But for one lone watcher, standing on a boat. 

A watcher that is certainly no child, with its height and deformed body, but is no ordinary monstrous adult either. 

The Ferryman waits, at the threshold. For that is where its/his/their power lies, on the boundaries between. 

Whether it’s between the Nowhere and elsewhere, between the various territories within the Nowhere itself...all lines are power in their divisions. In defining one’s self by those divisions. 

With that in mind, the Ferryman will divide into a ‘ he’ today.

He has brought many children into the Nowhere. 

It is far too easy to find those who fit the criteria, those who will follow him into the dark.

The lines he operates under within the Nowhere are far more strict. More specific. 

Must have survived for a certain amount of time, must be a certain size, must be of a certain disposition... the Maw is picky in its bounties. 

This girl he’s seen from a distance fits the criteria perfectly. 

Enough that she should have been in process of fleeing the Pale City at this time, into the Ferryman’s waiting arms. Yet she is not. Here, that is. 

The most likely culprit is the madness fallen upon the grown city residents, making it difficult for any to move through the territory, let alone a child that would be hunted on sight. 

Finding the girl once more...

The Ferryman shifts in his coat. Allowing the rain to wash down as another river. Flowing back to the sea underneath the boat. 

All come to the Ferryman, in the end. She will be no different, of those plucked from these storms. There is no other way to leave this island of a city. Only through him. 

He will wait. 

(The Maw will gladly open up for him when he returns with his prize.)

~

Waking up. Soft underneath. Much softer than that blanket on the bottom of the cage. 

His back aches. His everything aches, but mostly his back. 

Mono rolls over and pushes himself into a sitting position. He blinks blearily at the world, focusing through the eyeholes. 

He’s on a couch. Couch that was red, once, but has faded to pink now. Six is next to him, still sleeping from what he can tell. 

What was he-?

A flicker of light and static. Buzzing in his head

A far too familiar hand comes towards him. From a certain figure sitting on the floor. 

Mono flinches away.

The Thin Man, for once, pulls back his hand. 

But he doesn’t leave. Only lingers at the edges, strange eyes staring and watching them. 

Shattered eyes, for lack of a better name to call the strange sliding of darkness that breaks up the white light glowing from under the hat brim. Flickering like the TVs, but also not. More solid, less grey. 

As much as he hates to get closer to the monster, he needs to. Put himself between the still unconscious Six and the Thin Man. Just a little, scooting in front of her. 

Rumbling. Mumbling. 

“Unfortunate as it was, the pain was necessary.”

Mono gives into the urge to bare his teeth. Hisses a little, in the Thin Man’s direction. 

The words pound in his still aching ears and head, but what little Mono can put together from noises...he hates. 

Not needed, not necess-aaarry!

Only pain needed is the pain of when Mono’s escaping by scratching himself up or through something meant to hurt like a trap. What the Thin Man did, they didn’t need at all!

Just like a monster, to pretend to be all helpful when they’re just there to hurt kids all the same in the end. 

The Thin Man buzzes out a breath. 

“Of course, that is of no comfort to you. Ha.”

He lifts up a hand, and putting his fingers together, snaps. The sound isn’t the crisp click that Mono knows is supposed to cut through the air. 

Instead, the snap is something more...Mono scrunches up his face, trying to find the words. The thoughts. 

Muffled. That’s it. Muffled, like when Mono tries to talk through a mouth of food. 

There’s also a fizzle of the outline surrounding the Thin Man. Like the snap did something to the greyness and blueness making him up. 

“Once the girl wakes up, we will return to the Tower,” the Thin Man continues, uncaring about whether Mono understands him or not. Like he’s been from the very start, saying what must be words without caring if he’s heard or not. 

But these words might be important, so Mono tries his best. And they are, something about going back to the tower place he and Six ran from! When...?

He scratches at his paper bag, piecing the rest of the sounds together. When Six wakes up. 

A time limit. When Six wakes up, the Thin Man will take them away. And he...Mono chews on his hidden lips. Eyes his hand, still marked from his biting earlier. 

He’s sure to make it harder to escape, because he’s a thinking and changing monster. Not stuck doing the same thing like all the other monsters do. 

Mono can’t let that happen. 

Not after what the Thin Man just did to him and Six. Hurting them so badly. 

Mono glances over at the very still form of Six, how curled up she is. Almost a ball of yellow, hiding away from everything. 

His back twinges. He rubs at it over his shoulder. 

Running would be better with Six awake. But not impossible. But is impossible with the Thin Man watching them so intently. Not looking away, not blinking, not even once!

How does he convince the Thin Man to look away? Long enough for Mono to find a way to get him and Six outside? Or...

His eyes slide down to the floorboards. That one, closer to the door, is loose. Loose enough to pry up and hide under, maybe. Wouldn’t get him out, or Six out, but pretending to be gone...

Yeah. Mono smiles, careful to lower his head and mask covering it. Might work. 

He rubs at his stomach. 

“I’m hungry. I want food. ”

“What was that?”

“Hungry!” Mono raises his voice. Not a lot, just enough to be heard. 

Because if he can understand the Thin Man, why wouldn’t the Thin Man not be able to understand him?

An eyebrow raises to the hat’s brim. “Now? You want to eat after all of that?”

Mono nods. “Yes, food.”

The Thin Man goes silent. Even his always present humming form quiets. 

“I was not wrong earlier, saying that you understand me. You do. ”

He’s not sure why it’s apparently so important to the Thin Man if Mono can understand him or not. Because Six picked up on that nodding with no problem, didn’t she?

Mono can’t be the only kid able to know what the Thin Man’s saying. ...like how he can’t be the only kid able to go through TVs?

(Don’t think about that.)

“That hunter did store some food away, I believe.” The Thin Man stands up, so very tall. Towering over Mono. “If that food is ‘safe’ or not...you’ll have to wait and see.”

If the Thin Man tries to feed Mono kid meat, he’s going to bite him. Even worse than Six does, for real. 

The Thin Man is very very careful to close the door completely behind him, leaving. 

Of course he is. 

Now he’s gone...

Mono has his chance!

Finally!

He rolls Six off the couch first. Can’t help flinching at the groan she emits after thumping onto the floor. 

But no more movement. Leaving Mono free to jump off and start rolling her towards where he spied the loose floorboard. Her coat is very good at protecting against the splinters, the same splinters that prick at his feet. 

He wedges out the floorboard and it hurts, scratching into his palms. Drawing blood, pinpricks of it. But not as bad as the pain from the Thin Man. As bad as the future pain that monster’s probably planning. 

Mono pushes Six into the space underneath, once the board’s out enough. He crawls in after her, nudging her carefully into a position away from the many nails surrounding them. 

Pulling the floorboard in on top of them is easier than pulling it out was. 

There’s even a nice knotted hole for Mono to peek through. Just his eyes, not his head, which is safer than if it was big enough for his head. Good. 

Waiting. 

All he can do is waiting, for the plan to work. 

Tapping of shoes, the humming of static, the Thin Man moves back into the room. 

He’s here. 

Mono squishes himself further in the space. 

Hold his breath, hands cup over his mouth to catch any slips. Keep an eye on Six, make sure she’s quiet too, in her sleep. Quiet whenever she wakes up. 

He wants to look away. Can’t look away, see if it worked.

“Taking your chance? Hm, this will be a good test.”  

Then, the sound dies down. Getting farther and farther away. Until its source is gone. 

From what he can tell, the angle from the floor...

The door is...open?

Mono feels an itch at the back of his head at that, frowning under his bag. 

Why would the Thin Man leave the door open this time? Maybe he’s in a hurry to find them? But the buzzing...seemed different. 

Not sure how, just different. Not as loud as he expected, at seeing them gone. 

Well. Mono doesn’t have to figure this out alone, right? There’s his friend sleeping right next to him, ready to get woken up to start running. 

He nudges Six. Pushes at her, until she moves to hit him while waking up. 

“Six! How hurt are you?”

“Not hurt!” she hisses back, swatting at his face. 

He whacks back and for a little bit, they’re distracted at both trying to punch and gnaw and tear each other’s hair out. 

Until Six eventually wins by bashing his face into the ground. He sits up, to rub at his head. 

“Okay, you win. We go now?”

“Yes,” she agrees. “We’ll go.”

Dark hallways, through the open door. Much darker since they don’t have the holes and cracks to the outside like the other floors did. 

Mono creeps silently, Six right behind him. Finding their way to the stairway. Or a window. Or anything that will get them off the floor. 

So dark, hard to avoid the lumps of furniture and other weird things in it. And they don’t even have a flashlight!

A click behind him. He glances over. Sees Six opening up her spark-box, making a little fire to light their way. Oh right, she still has that!

Things are easier to move through. But not by much. 

“Door.” Six points. 

Okay, maybe that’s the wa-

Shattered eyes glow in the dark. A tall silhouette. A hand reaches for them. 

“Caught you.”

Chapter Text

To the man’s utter lack of surprise, the children respond poorly to being found. 

The same response as every other time, they attempt to attack and fight their way free. This time, the man allows them to run off. Since his marking has been confirmed to work, he will be able to find them no matter where they run. Or attempt to hide, for that matter. 

Let them tire themselves out. He will win, in the end. 

Before he takes them back to the Tower, there are a few...duties the man should take care of in the meantime. 

It will delay returning to the Tower in a timely fashion and thus soothing said Tower, but better that than having to do this later. Irritating as it is. 

The man lets out a breath he doesn’t even need. 

The gesture somehow manages to lighten the pressuring weight in his chest despite its non-necessity. Strange. 

A pressure at the edge of his mind. The Tower insisting on him going...ah. He understands. 

He sends himself there in between blinks. 

Where a certain individual waits at the border. 

Ferryman, Candleman, Watcher, there are many names for who rests at the boundary of the Pale City. Of his territory. 

Folds of pale skin forming a large nose and an unseenable face shift in the man’s direction, from a dark overcoat. Looking somehow in his direction despite the lack of eyes. 

The wanderer doesn’t even have the decency to have good taste in hats. 

A bony hand goes up to check on the man’s own hat. Still resting on his head. Good. 

He stops. Watching the watcher across the street between them. 

Cut through the static first. 

“There’s nothing for you here.”

“Untrue,” the other disagrees, disfigured hands wrapped in wide sleeves. “Plenty of children wander through your territory. Children that serve better purposes elsewhere.”

The man sneers. “Filling that one’s gullet is not what I would call a better purpose.”

“You do nothing with them, Broadcaster,” the Ferryman sneers back. “Only let them wander and die. Is it truly any better than the Maw, where they will be fed?”

“Fed and then fed to another,” the man huffs, resisting the urge to shake his head. Static sticks and grinds about him, adding a sharpener outline to his blueish faded form. 

“Your judgment is humorous considering your own duties to your...” the Ferryman’s extended nose wrinkles and crumples. “...Tower.”

His own static increases in intensity. Crackling louder. 

“There are different degrees of consumption, Ferryman. Fools who seek to escape this world make for better fuel than small pests that never get a chance to grow.”

The Viewers are a much more stable energy source by far, compared to the Maw’s preferences on what it feeds to its visitors. 

The man taps at his knee. 

“Tell me, why are you here? At the edge of the City.”

“I seek out a girl in a yellow coat, for the Lady.” The Ferryman’s fingers tap at an oar, an oar that wasn’t in his hands before. Where that oar came from is not particularly of interest to the man either, more concerned with the description given. 

Of course she would be seeking out the girl. The girl falls perfectly into what he vaguely recalls of her tastes. Lady of the Maw, always searching for [] to lay on her own dinner table. 

And the girl certainly fits that description. 

Rather unfortunate for her that the man found the girl and claimed her first. His mouth twitches. Best to say nothing to that end, however, certain individuals have a tendency of not accepting no. 

“Good luck on finding prey so specific.” The man turns on his heel, ready to stalk back to the City. More specifically, to the children of his still there. He can sense them, far enough that the Ferryman shouldn’t be able to but still within his range. With his mark. 

Getting into trouble, no doubt. He needs to return. 

“...We’ll see.”

Yes. Yes, they will, won’t they?

~

The Ferryman lingers, after the Broadcaster leaves. Because he knows now. 

“Heh.”

The Ferryman chuckles to himself. Shakes his head.

“For a Broadcaster, you’ve never been a very good liar. ”

~

Six’s body aches. Especially where the Tall Man touched and pulled with his strange bad powers. 

Hurts hurts hurts. She focuses the best she can, in the dark and from underneath the pain. Rubs at her chest with a hand, to chase the pain away. Doesn’t help a lot but it works a little. 

Pain that stays is bad. Cuts and bruises, Six is used to ignoring those. But this pain is new and huge in a way those hurts aren’t. Something that’ll make it hard to escape, and a kid that can’t escape is a dead kid. 

(What if the Tall Man catches them again to hurt-)

They can’t run and get away. What can they do, then?

The only way out is...

Six nibbles at her tongue. Resists the urge to tug at her hood. Mono tugs at his own paper bag more than enough for both of them, thanks. 

Some way to get out of the city entirely. Quickly. Running won’t work but...she eyes Mono carefully. Mono, who’s poking at the cabinets, scavenging while she watches for danger. For the Tall Man.  

Mono, who can also go through TV screens and end up somewhere completely new. New and far away from where they start.

But the Tall Man can do the same. They’ll have to be really fast, moving through. They’ll need to know exactly where to go. 

That...Six digs her teeth in her tongue deeper. Enough to draw blood. Just a little. Enough for her to taste, better her own blood than a monster’s. She doesn’t know the Pale City well enough for that. Where to go, where to run to get out out out. 

And with how the Tall Man keeps picking them up, it’s going to be really hard to explore more of the City to get that information they’ll need. 

...Can Mono even go through a TV he can’t see? She’ll have to ask him. 

A familiar buzz in her ears. Mono freezes, obviously hearing the same. He drops the bag he’s been digging into, rushing over to Six. Grabbing at her hand. 

“Hide!” he hisses. 

Useless, but she nods back anyway. Agreeing anyway. 

Because even when they can’t get from the Tall Man when he’s this close, this near, they can still make life hard for the monster. 

Make him give up, one day, she doesn’t dare hope but the thought still comes to mind. 

They crawl into the cupboard together. Squished up against each other. 

Mono nudges at her. Points at some shadowy lumps also sharing the hiding spot. 

...there are old crackers in this cupboard. Yellow, but not moldy yellow. 

She picks up a chunk. Nibbles on it. 

Yum. 

(Her mouth is too full of food to bite, when the Tall Man comes for them.)

~

The Tower observes. It watches. 

It feasts. Filling desires, wants, dreams, the Tower does it all. 

Except.

A conundrum. 

The Tower thinks. As much as it can, the type of existence it is allows for not many linear patterns that mortals call thoughts. 

It let the children go, but its Broadcaster...did not move on. 

Instead he sought them out. Left the Tower behind to look for the children instead of forgetting them in the oblivion the Tower happily provides. 

The flaw is not corrected. 

Only aggravated. Torn open, like meat left to rot under a sun that exists no more. 

If allowing the children to leave does not repair the flaw.

Consideration. 

A different course of action must be taken. 

Its Broadcaster still does not know what he desires. 

Will the children staying lead to that discovery?

The Tower has no choice but to attempt that leading path. For the Broadcaster has brought those children, the pests, back to it. 

Its floors and walls shift and twist. Tangle about a center point that does not truly exist in any sense of the word. 

But it does not destroy the room that the Broadcaster had put the children in previously. That, it carefully preserves in its reshaping. 

Waiting for the Broadcaster’s return. 

And return he does. With the children. With the want he does not yet interrupt. 

But don’t worry. 

The Tower purrs, curling about him. 

It’ll help him discover his desires. That’s what it does, after all. 

~

Mono...doesn’t know what to do. 

He curls up his hands, knocking them into his legs. In the room that the Thin Man trapped them in the first time they were in the Tower. But there’s no bed to hide under now. Just exposure on the rug that remains . 

Six’s curled up on her side. Facing away from him. 

Okay, she doesn’t want to be bothered. He’ll leave her alone. Unless something really bad happens, of course, if the Thin Man turns against them. 

(Hurts them again.)

The door’s closed, doorknob too high up to reach. The walls are fixed up, no way to tear splinters out or carve holes in to climb up. Trapped. Nowhere to go. But. 

Maybe...

The Thin Man tugged at something. Pulled a static ghost that looked like Mono. Could Mono...do that to himself?

He tugs at his paper bag. Thinking. 

Like touching the TV. Tuning. But tuning himself? He puts his hands on his chest, like he would on a TV screen. Focus, focus. 

-ON-TUNE-CHANNEL-

Pulls out...something. Out of his chest, into his hands. Mono’s eyes go wide, bringing it closer to his face to better look at it. Not black static like the ghosts, but gray and white and blue. Changing colors constantly between the three.  

The whatever it is fizzes and buzzes in his cupped hands. 

He flinches at each new sound it makes, but doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t let the energy fade from his hands. No matter what. 

Maybe if he had figured this out before, instead of hiding, the Thin Man wouldn’t have them now. He can’t give up. 

Moving his hands back and forth makes the bubble bigger and smaller. In, smaller. Out, bigger. Oooh, that’s-

“Foolish boy, what are you doing.”

The fuzzy bubble between his hands pops. Mono jumps, hands shooting up to cover his ears the best he can. 

The Thin Man sighs, making a sound just like the fuzzy bubble in the process. 

“Was I ever so careless with my abilities? Surely not.” The Thin Man squats down, bringing his face to just above Mono’s level. 

“Boy, you cannot use your powers like this. Do you understand?”

Not use his powers? His bag crinkles as he moves his head. Shakes it. Yeah, he never uses his powers normally. Other kids don’t like them. 

(Chase him away.)

But the Thin Man doesn’t get to TELL him if he can or not. No way.

“Boy. I know you can understand me.”

Mono refuses to look at those cracked, changing eyes. No!

“If you insist on playing the fool...I suppose I will have to keep a closer eye on you. Hm?”

What does that mean? Closer eye? The Thin Man’s already too close. 

“Go away!” 

“If you say so. But I will be watching.”

The monster raises to his full height, so very tall over Mono and Six. 

In cracking static, the Thin Man is gone.

Leaving Mono to... realize what just happened. His body shivers. Mono looks down at his shaking hands. 

The Thin Man can feel when he uses his powers. 

What does he do about that?!

~

The man tugs at his hat. Forward, closer to covering his face. Resisting the urge to pull his hand down his face. 

The boy is going to get himself killed at this rate. 

Handling the energies of transmission, tuning, can be hazardous at the best of times. The boy is truly fortunate the man meant him no harm, when he chose to open that door for the man through his tuning. 

Still foolish. Hazardous. 

The girl, though tired for now, will be up soon. No doubt about that. And she will be tearing items apart when she is. Just as much as the boy will, now that the man’s stopped his playing about with the transmission. 

The children, quite obviously, need to be kept busy. Entertained, as it were. 

He folds one long leg over the other, fingers tapping on his thigh. Thinking. 

The Signal is an option, but one that the man prefers to avoid using as long as possible, entirely if he can. 

“What do children like in the first place?” he wonders, words sparking in the air. 

From what he's noticed about these two so far, they enjoy destruction and running. Two actions that do not contribute to his extended care of them in any positive way. 

The opposite, really. 

Perhaps...

He can provide places for the children to wander about. Safely. In the Tower. 

He asks. 

The Tower is eager to comply. It enjoys moving around when it can, after all, in the limited framework afforded to it. He can feel the trembling both below and above him, as floors are readjusted and extended. 

The man, of course, will have to keep a careful eye out. The risk of the Tower giving into its inherent urge to devour is far too great to leave it unsupervised. Also, the children run the risk of injuring them in the process. 

He remembers run- -n- fr-m.

⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛

The man shakes his head, chasing away the flurries of electricity gathered about his skull. 

What was he thinking about? 

Right, watching over the children and Tower alike during this...run. 

No time like now to get started. 

~

The world is shaking. 

The world is moving. 

Six peeps (though she’ll never admit that’s a sound she can make. To anyone). Clutches at Mono so he won’t get thrown around, so she won’t get thrown around. Doesn’t take long until the shifting of the world stops entirely. 

Still. Very still. Quiet. Quiet in the way of dead monsters, dead kids. 

The door creaks open. 

Six eyes it suspiciously. 

Mono moves his paper bag face to whisper into her ear. “Do we go through it?”

“It’s a trap,” she hisses back. Obviously. Why would the door just open like that, when the Tall Man’s so insistent in trapping them in here.

“Yes, but we can’t leave from here,” Mono reminds her. 

Well. He has a point. 

With a sigh, Six lets his arm go. Stands up and carefully, carefully tiptoes to the door. Peeks around the old wood into the...

The hallway’s not the same. The hallway is different. 

Explaining the shaking of the world, Six guesses. Be hard to find a way out when everything looks different, though. 

Plus how it’s a clear trap!

At least the aching’s not as bad as before, she can run better now. 

“What’d you see?” Mono wanders over for a look of his own. “...oh.”

Yeah. Oh. 

Mono crawls out into the new hall first, like he always does. Leading the way. Exploring the possible dangers with a curiosity that usually gets kids killed. Not Mono, though. He’s not dead yet. 

Six isn’t either and she’s going to keep it that way. 

Heaving in a careful breath, she follows after him. Cautiously avoiding the planks that are higher than their surrounding floor boards, more likely to creak and make noise and draw attention. All bad. 

A lot of doors. All of them cracked slightly, waiting for someone to push through. More traps, but which one is the trap?

Six shifts her head to the side, thinking. 

“Which one?” Mono wonders out loud. He tugs at his bag, eyes flicking about from door to door through his eyeholes. 

“I guess we’ll have to try them all.”

Maybe they’ll even find some food in the process? That would be nice. 

Sound. No, not only sound. Music. Coming from a door directly behind them. 

That music...Six strains her ears. Sounds like...her music box? Almost? Her feet take her over to the door before she fully realizes what she’s doing. 

Stc- Bang. The door shuts before she can look around it, to see where the noise is coming from. 

Hm. That’s...interesting. 

Six shrugs and follows after Mono. Yeah, she’ll just...ignore that. Yeah. Better that way. 

She’ll keep telling herself that. 

(Maybe one day she’ll believe it.)

Chapter Text

The man can trust the Tower in only limited quantities, when it comes to the children. 

He knows this the way he knows many other things, in a fashion where he is not completely aware from which such information came from in the first place. 

Already, in the short time he was away to tend to the borders, to drive off the Ferryman, the Tower seeks out with gripping tendrils of the Signal. Towards the children that lie so close to its Heart. 

Threatening to break minds and shatter thoughts completely, like it has done to all others before. All other excepting the man. 

But then...

The man’s lips dip downwards. Could it be said that he truly escaped having his mind broken? When he cannot recall his life before becoming the Broadcaster?

Enough of that. His hand steadies the hat on his head. 

Focus on the children, wandering they may be. 

When he finds them...he cannot put them to sleep as he has been doing. Too risky, too dangerous, after he recently exposed them to so much of his own transmission to keep them forever in his sights. 

Speaking of which. The man closes his eyes to better focus on the exact location of where said children are within the Tower’s confines. 

Right. That floor. A mere floor one or two above his current location. Perfect. 

He steps. He moves. He’s present, at the end of a long hallway. Where his targets lie, on the other end of said hallway. 

Easy enough to convince the Tower to move a certain doorway to where the children lie at the other end. Provide them with access to the cluster of rooms he’s carefully vetted for their use. Much more carefully than the first room they used in the Tower. Very much so. 

There’s a few modifications he had to do this time through. 

Such as...

The bed that the children before took apart and plotted under to escape. 

No, he won’t do that this time through. Allow a bed to be present, that is. Too risky, too hazardous to the children’s health and heightening their ability to escape apparently. 

Creative bunch, these children. 

Plenty of cameras for him to shuffle through, his overseeing eye present. High out of reach, of course, so as not to be damaged by grudge-holding children. 

Piles of blankets will do, much better than the scraps of cloth children usually have to resort to hiding in to sleep. Much less likely to produce any kind of tool to escape from, as long as he keeps a careful eye out for attempted blanket ropes. 

Some cupboards and tables for ‘hiding places’ that shouldn’t prevent him from seeing any future plots but providing the illusion of privacy. 

Like with the Viewers, an apparent promise is always better than the reality of a situation. That’s what many long years as the Broadcaster has taught him, twisted deep down into his unnatural bones, into blood that no longer moves the way it should. 

The door opens as the children crawl their way inside to what he’s prepared. 

Ah. Perfect. Just in time. 

The man waits inside for when they make their careful way through. Is there for them to stop in fear when they see his shadow darken the floor. 

The Transmission squeaks and crackles with the stress the boy gives off, monotone hum becoming a shrieking high pitch. Stress that no doubt burns in the girl as well. Making it more dangerous for the man to stay, when they’re still recovering from his mark. 

He needs to leave. Allow them to adapt to their new living space. 

Before that...another distraction first. 

The man steps closer, despite the flinch from both he receives in response. To inquire of the one that understands him what they currently desire. 

(He wants to talk to another person that isn’t the Tower.)

“Tell me, what do you want?” He spreads his hands. Carefully, slowly, as not to set them off. Not too far apart from each other either, both in clear sight. “I can find it for you.”

There isn’t even a moment left to think. Their desire is made right away, once the boy puzzles through his words. 

“Let us go,” the boy demands.

Ah. Yes. Of course that’s what he would ask for. 

The man finds his lips twisting wryly. 

“Anything but that.”

~

“Anything but that.” 

That’s been the clearest the Thin Man’s words have been so far. Even the question before that was fuzzy and buzzy. 

Mono looks away. 

Of course that’s the answer. He knew that would be the answer, the Thin Man won’t let them go after chasing them for so long. 

But it’s still a pain in his chest anyway. 

Next to him, Six scoffs. “Why’d you ask that? You know that the Tall Man won’t do it. Ever.”

“Yes, but...” Mono pulls his knees up to his chest. Pokes at his bare toes. “I had to check.”

Always always check. A door that’s closed might be locked, but a kid doesn’t know unless they try it. Checking is how Mono gets away. Even though this kind of checking might be dumber than most. 

Still have to. 

“What else?” the Thin Man prompts. “What else would you want?”

Something about wanting, the question from before repeated. Mono chews at his lower lip. Thinking. 

“What’s it saying?” Six hisses in a loud whisper, into his ear. 

“Asking about what we want again,” he mutters back. “What do you want?”

“Other than getting out of here...” A yellow hooded head tilts to the side. “Food?”

Yes, food is good. Always good. 

He turns to the Thin Man. “Food.”

The Thin Man lets out a static-y hiss from his nose. “Of course. I expect nothing else from you two.”

One set of long long fingers tap along the wrist of the opposing hand. 

“Any particular food in mind?”

Mono thinks. He wants to tug at his bag while he does, but it’s so thin he’s gonna rip it if he does. 

He settles for tugging at his coat sleeves instead. Not the same, not the same, too much like what the Thin Man is doing...but it’s what he can do right now. To think. 

“What food do you like, Six? If you could pick any?” He eventually settles on asking. She should make the choice here, for the first time. Maybe if the Thin Man asks the same question later, Mono will then but right now, Mono can’t think of anything he wants to eat the most. 

She doesn’t hesitate. “Something with meat. Not gone icky, good stuff.”

Mono turns to the Thin Man again. “Not bad meat.”

Another hiss. The Thin Man rises to his full height. “...always meeting expectations. Very well. Wait until I return.”

Just like that, the Thin Man leaves. The door, of course, is closed behind him. Leaving the two to...wherever this is in the Tower. 

There are more doors than the one the Thin Man left through. Not as many as the halls they wandered, but more than just one like the last room the Thin Man trapped them in. 

Mono takes in every detail and difference he can. 

The walls aren’t as...plain. Yes, plain is the right word. Mono wanders up to said wall, resting his fingers gently against it. Different colors, but what green and blue mean, he has no idea. Only that it’s different. Sloped like the hills and forest he and Six ran to the City from. 

He opens his mouth, about to ask Six what thinks-

A crackle. The world snapping in and out. 

Mono turns just in time to catch a familiar silhouette reshattering into existence. Behind him. Or used to be behind him. 

The Thin Man’s back. 

With food. Meat in some kind of box, placed on the ground. In perfect reach for a kid. 

Six’ll like this!

~

The meat that the Tall Man provides after coming back doesn’t taste too bad, to Six’s tongue. Definitely not people meat. Very chewy, lets her linger on the taste in a way she normally doesn’t get to. 

The fact that he watches them eat makes it less good. 

Six hates being confused and everything about the Tall Man is confusing. Very confusing. Confusion is dangerous and how kids get killed by monsters. 

She shoves in another strip of the dried meat and glares at the man. Refusing to take her eyes off of him. Refusing to look away in the face of a threat. 

Even a threat that hasn’t...Six scrunches up her face. She can’t say the Tall Man hasn’t been a threat the entire time, because that’s not true. But she hasn’t figured out what he wants yet and that’s the dangerous part. 

Because what if he wants her and Mono dead in the worst way possible? Some way she hasn’t even run into yet, among many many kids that have died in front of her or left their bodies for her to find. 

Six would chew off her own leg if it didn’t mean she wouldn’t be able to run afterwards. 

This is something she’s always known about herself. 

For their current surroundings...

More rooms means more places to hide. 

Six chews on her lip. If there are things to hide under. That might be a problem. Because in this room so far...nothing. Nothing decent for hiding from the Tall Man. And he can come in whenever, it seems! Definitely not safe. 

But was it ever really safe? Not when the Tall Man can somehow find them wherever now. Due to...

Six shakes her hooded head. Forces back her shivers, but can’t stop her hand from rubbing at her chest. 

Where he-  

“Six, what are you doing?”

Mono. Seeing her weakness. She stops the rubbing right away. Moving her hand away from her chest to resist doing it some more. 

She’s not actually hurt. No need to show off what’s wrong with Six. 

“Chewing.” She chomps down harder on her lip, enough to draw blood. 

Six can’t see Mono’s face but she’s pretty sure his face is screwing up under his paper bag. 

“Ew.”

She sticks out her now bloody tongue at him. 

“Ew,” he repeats, shaking his head. But there’s a laugh too, at the end. 

Six giggles back.

His words steal that giggle away. 

“Want help with anything?”

No, she doesn’t need help. She’s fine! She’s okay!

(Needing help gets you locked up in a shed for the monsters to get you.)

Mono apparently picks up the change in mood, stepping back. Away from her. Wandering off through the open door, to explore the rest of this ‘safe’ place’ Giving her some room. 

Room that she needs, as much as she hates to admit it.  

Breath in and out. Smooth her yellow raincoat into place. A raincoat that like everything else Six has ever had has been found and stolen from the dark places. 

Six has to take control. 

She needs to know how far this monster will go. 

(If it will be the Pretender all over again.)

Make the first move and she is in control. 

Her hands go to her hips. Eyes safely hidden under her hood, she sets to glaring at every darkened corner. Checking for the monster she knows has to be hiding there. 

Since Mono’s out of the room, she does what she never does: she yells. Calls out to the monster, making sound it will react to. 

“Tall Man, where are you? Come out!”

~

The man does not want to leave them be. 

Certainly as much as those children do not want him to be around. 

He watches and waits. 

Watches them wander about their new living quarters, feasting on the food he provided. 

Waits for what, he is not completely certain. Only for a moment he will know when it comes. Whenever it should come. 

His fingers tap along the edges of the halls, the doors. Reaching out for something that cannot truly be his. Yet watching nonetheless. Broadcasting. 

(Receiving.)

“Tall Man, where are you? Come out!”

When the girl calls out for him, using her name for him, his fingers stop tapping. 

It is...

Completely unexpected. 

Static pops and cracks. 

The world, for a few bare seconds, fizzes out of existence. Before he crackles back, forcing his will upon it. Also checking reality once more. 

The girl still yells. Still calls. Not imagining it.

(Not this time.)

Within the Tower, movement is easier and harder than it is outside of the Tower. He doesn’t quite need televisions to move back and forth, but it does make it easier to focus. Less likely to get lost in the channels and come out years later, like what has happened in the past. 

But he can focus enough in this time, to come to be right in front of the girl. The girl in the yellow raincoat. 

For a moment, his reappearance is enough to take the girl by surprise once more, enough to quiet her. 

But she doesn’t hide away. She stays. 

The man stays too. 

“What is it?” A question that must be asked, no matter that the girl will not understand a single word. He tilts his head in forward inquiry that will be more clear to her. 

The girl glares at him. He can feel the pressure of her unseen eyes. A pressure that is more than he has received from anyone outside the Tower for a long time. A very long time indeed. 

Even more impressive, there is an intensity to that pressure she puts off. One that almost mimics the Transmission that the boy can use. How is that the case?

He takes a step closer, eyes moving down from his hat to look the girl over. Applying a pressure back. Not too much of one, there is no desire within to punish the girl for calling him. But enough to let her know he’s listening. 

“You’re weird. Monsters eat kids or save kids to eat later.” She peers suspiciously at him, hood moving almost enough for him to see her eyes. 

“Are you going to eat us later?”

Of course not. 

But she won’t believe that. Only a foolish child, a dead child would believe him. 

He shakes his head nonetheless. 

“I do not want to eat you or the boy. That is useless to me.”

As useless as any other food is to him. He lies beyond that now. 

What the man can see of her face scrunches. “You even make weird noises like other monsters. But-”

She tugs at her hood.

“...I don’t know what to do.”

Her words are quieter than a whisper. It is only his tuning that allows him to catch them. To understand what precipice she lies at. One he must not tip. 

The next move...that’s the girl’s. It has to be, the girl has made that clear from past interactions like his attempt to care for her wounds and clean her off. 

The man waits. 

Waits like he has for a very very long time indeed. 

~

The Tower buzzes and hums and exists. 

As it has done so for a time unknown and will continue for another period of time unknown. 

What does time mean in a world where the sun barely manages to rise and fall? In a place where that same sun is always covered by a persistent rain? 

Devouring darkness ruling forever. 

As something reaches out, to the Tower’s outgoing and ongoing Signal. 

The deepest parts of the abyss calls up to a tower that stands after all else has fallen. 

Communication is difficult, nearly impossible, for beings who are meant to devour and little more. Yet somehow it occurs between Tower and Maw. 

Need Avatar, the other manages to get across. 

Hm.

The Tower signals withdrawn and the Maw accepts, but lingers. Energy pulsing.  

Avatars are important. Vital, for the new fashion in which the Tower and others like it interact with those of this falling apart world. To feast, the most important action of all. 

The Tower and the Broadcaster, the Maw and its Lady, connections and weavings and signals and so much more. 

The Maw needs one of the humans the Broadcaster has taken. For a new Avatar. But the Broadcaster has laid a claim not easily erased on that same human. Enough to prevent the creation of a new Avatar in that flesh and form. 

The Tower considers. 

What should it do now?

Chapter Text

Six still doesn’t know what to do. About the Tall Man. 

The weird noises he makes clearly mean something, in a way the noises of other monsters do not. Real words, except that she can’t understand any of them. 

“It’s fascinating to see you struggle with this,” the Tall Man crackles as she squints at him, squints at his mouth where the nosies appear to be coming from. Like talking should. But also most nosies, not all. 

“Why bother? Why try?”

Noise also comes from the edges of his form, almost visible along the fuzzy outline of the Tall Man’s form. Like the TVs both the Tall Man and Mono can go through, a thin layer of static.  

Does it feel like that static? 

Six reaches out to check. 

She’s already bit the Tall Man and he hasn’t hurt her for it, so barely touching him shouldn’t be any different. 

If it is...she won’t hesitate. She’ll bite him again. Never mind his nasty blood. 

Six eyes him carefully. Determining her target. Takes a step closer. 

“Hmm? What’s this?” More buzzing at her, but the Tall Man doesn’t move away. Only watching her, waiting for her. 

One small hand reaches, further and further. She’s standing on her tippie-toes, almost. 

Her fingers rest on a pant leg. 

The Tall Man stills, utterly and completely. Even his static hiccups, causing her fingers to tingle. 

Hm. That’s not bad, but what if he gets surprised by something? Six needs to be sure he won’t squish her then. No matter how bad the surprise is. 

Opening her mouth, moving her head towards him, she bites. 

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR, BRAT!?”

Her chosen target, the leg she touched, jerks violently. The screech of the Tall Man causes her ears to pop, almost ache. 

Loud loud loud.

The blood is bitter in her mouth. Her jaws ache at the pressure. She does not let go. 

“Are you hungry? Is that it? You do not need to bite me to ask for food.”

Six releases the man before his long (too long) fingers wrap around her body to tug her off. She eyes them suspiciously. They better not pick her up right now!

But the fingers only touch along the bottom of the pant leg, where the blood is already drying up and vanishing. Not a trace left behind, like the blood of kids or other monsters. 

Another way the Tall Man is different from the rest. 

“Food, then.” Fingers twitch at her. The Tall Man looks at her with deep sunken eyes. “Come along.”

He takes one step away from her, but no further. 

Takes a moment for Six to understand: he’s waiting for her. 

Guess the bite worked out alright. She walks after him, careful to make sure she’s far enough that he can see her, far enough that he won’t step on her. But close enough to know that she is following. 

Through the halls, twisting and twining about themselves. 

Six tries to memorize where they’re going, in case she can use this path later to lead out, but gives up by the more-than-fingers number door. Many more than fingers, at that point. 

The room the Man leads her to...

Uh oh. 

She stops walking. Stays outside the open door. Not this one. Not this one. 

The room where the Man messed around with her injuries. Her cuts. Poked at her!

The Tall Man, of course, notices that she won’t follow him inside. 

“Girl. I am not attempting to bathe you at this time.” 

More noises. Six shakes her head at the Tall Man. “No!”

“Of course that’s the one word you use. How surprising. Shocking, I say.”

Six hisses at him. She has a feeling he’s making fun of her, from how his mouth twitches around the edges. 

But soon the Tall Man turns. Facing the table he put her on before. Away from Six. 

Since he’s not making to grab her...she’ll stay. If only to figure out what he’s up to. 

She squints. Can’t quite see what he’s doing, his hands are so high up. On the table where he ‘cleaned’ her before. But he’s definitely grabbing things. Moving them around by the scratching and grinding she hears. 

When the Tall Man turns around, he holds objects. One in each hand. A can, like the food from before. A bowl. 

Six narrows her eyes. Is the food a bribe for cleaning? Is the bowl what the Tall Man wants to use to clean her this time?

She readies herself to fight, useless it may be against the Tall Man. 

He bends down, within reach. Almost reach, so close. The can clicks against the bowl’s rim. Brown stuff slides out of it. Her nose twitches. 

“Since you only seem to understand one thing, I will try it. Here, food for you. Like I promised.”

Any thought of trying to figure out the must-be words flies from Six when she sees what the Tall Man has put on the ground for her. 

Fruit! The syrupy stuff, poured all in a bowl by the Tall Man. 

No meat. But that’s okay, with the amount of food sitting out for her in the open. 

Six eats and eats. For once, there is enough to make her tummy stop growling. 

(For her to stop looking at the shadows for something to eat there.)

She pats at her belly. Enjoying the new bounce to it. Licks off her sticky fingers, one by one. Yummy. 

Her stomach gurgles, uncomfortably full for the first time in...ever. Six can’t picture it. Except she has that feeling now, and she’ll never forget it. 

Maybe she’ll take a nap after. That would be good. 

~

It has been so long since Mono last had a nap. 

A good nap, that is. Naps are normal, naps are the only way to survive in a world where a monster could dig a kid up any moment if they’re not awake to run away. 

Even the best hiding places get discovered eventually. 

But they’re not good naps. Just little hiccups of sleep, breaks that barely serve as breathers before a kid has to run again . 

Full of nightmares. 

Always, always, filled to the brim with nightmares. 

For Mono, those nightmares are always of the same thing: 

A long dark corridor that goes on and on and on. The humming of a television screen, in the background, always going, neverending. 

To a shadowed room, where a single chair sits in the middle. A chair where a tall tall monster sits. The Thin Man. 

The monster in the chair looks at him. Under that hat-

It has his face. 

Mono gasps awake. 

Alone. 

But also not. 

The Thin Man stands near the center of the room. Watching him. Always, always watching him. But something’s missing. Someone’s missing from the cuddle pile. 

More than that-

“Where’s Six?”

The Thin Man doesn’t answer. 

He repeats, “Where’s Six?”

He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. If the Thin Man has done something to her-

“Calm down, she’s right here, see, boy?” The Thin Man’s spindly fingers gesture to the small body resting in his other palm. “Safe and sound.”

Mono peers over at the familiar yellow jacket. Her chest is moving. Breathing. 

She’s...

“Sleeping,” he realizes. “She’s sleeping on you.”

“Not quite. I picked her up when she fell asleep. I did not want to leave her behind,” the Thin Man disagrees. 

A denial and also something else. Mono pieces the fuzzy words together the best he can. 

“Oh. You didn’t leave her. Good.”

Six hates being left behind, though Mono’s had to do it more than once due to how small spaces can be to crawl through. Or how thin a rope can be to climb. 

They always meet up in the end, though, and that’s the important part. 

Like now, meeting up now. Even though she’s asleep. Still good. Still important. 

“Of course not, what kind of person do you think I am?” The Thin Man sounds offended somehow, but Mono just agreed with him!

Why are monsters so complicated? Or maybe just people, because Six gets growly out of nowhere too sometimes!

“Put her down!” He stomps his foot, flares his coat out the best he can. 

“Fine, fine, if you say so...” A mumbled word, after the rest. “Brat.”

Gently, the Thin Man tilts his hand so Six’s limp body rolls out of it. Into Mono’s out-stretched arms. 

She’s heavier than Mono expected, even after carrying her in the past. He almost staggers, but manages not to just in time. No dropping! No dropping Six!

Guess weight is different every time. Hard to judge. 

He half carries, half drags her body over to the nest of blankets he’s made in the corner of the room. Not as safe as hiding under the bed was but the best Mono can do with no bed or anything else to hide under. 

Just for a moment, he rests his hand on hers. Assuring himself of the warmth in her sleeping body, not the cold of a corpse. 

Mono’s hand makes a weird noise when he pulls it away from Six’s. 

“She’s kind of...sticky.”

A heave of a buzzing sigh. “I cleaned her off the best I could without waking her, but that certainly is not enough.”

Seems the Thin Man tried but didn’t want to wake Six. That’s good. Even if she’s sticky now. Sleeping is better than whatever ‘cleaning’ means to the Thin Man. 

Cleaning is...Mono shakes his head. Ew. 

“Of course you would think the same as her on the topic. Ridiculous children,” the Thin Man huffs, shaking his head in a twitching motion. 

But he’s not mean about it, no sharp stabs of static into Mono’s brain. No, these sounds are softer. Almost comforting and dizzying at the same time, like how the TVs would always draw him towards them in the first place. 

There’s a warm feeling in Mono’s chest. Unlike any he’s ever felt before. 

But he can guess what it is. That it’s good. 

~

The man does not know what the ‘warmth’ in his chest is. 

Only that it chases away the frigid chill that has run through his veins even since he became the Broadcaster. Alive in a different way than what is normally accepted for him. 

So much has changed since he found these children. Or more accurately, stole the girl through the television after the boy unlocked his prison. Small details in the long run, especially after all the time he has spent hunting the children down. 

How it began does not matter so much in the face of that, now does it?

Because here those children are, before him. 

His. 

There’s a rumbling in his chest, reaching out into his limbs. Traced through his veins. 

It is only when he is certain that the children are deep asleep that the man leaves them be. To their slumber. 

No matter how he wishes to linger. To watch over them a little longer. 

The Tower has its dues and as the Broadcaster, it is his duty to carry them out. To pay what cannot be paid off. An unforgivable debt of existence as it were. 

It is in the middle of his duties when the Tower makes a command. Passes on the word, the message.

There is a demand from another. A demand that the Tower is now passing down. 

Choose to give up the girl, the Tower whispers. 

A choice? No, a sacrifice. 

“Haven’t I given up enough for you?” He says to the Tower, in more than words. Fragments of every moment he’s served as Broadcaster. Giving up everything for the Tower. 

For once, he will not give in. 

“No, no. I won’t. ”

He refuses, the energy of the Transmission sparking about him. Through him. 

The Tower hums back, crackling and rumbling through its entire framework. Its ever so weak attempt at comfort. Comfort that failed its task before the boy reached out for him through a far off screen. 

When that option does not work, the Tower turns to its other tool: overwhelming force. 

The man grits his teeth, hand going up to hold onto his hat. The pressure bears down on him, all around him. But-!

It cannot break him. 

That is his answer. 

~

“That is your answer? So be it.”

The Lady will have her due. 

Won’t that be fun?