Work Text:
"If we die in a corporate zoning dispute, tell my mother I hated her beige curtains." Phoebe’s voice is a thin wire, vibrating with a frequency of pure anxiety
She's hunched over a tablet, the blue light washing out her features into something ghostly. Her thumb swipes frantically, scrolling through city planning archives and digital deeds. The air in Helga’s bedroom is thick, smelling of old crayons and the salt-sharp tang of sweat.
"The zip code for FutureTech Industries is 66613," Phoebe whispers, her throat clicking as she swallows a knot of dread. "He radiates evil, Helga. It’s mathematically probable. The man is a void where a soul should be."
Helga is sprawled across her bed, one leg dangling off the mattress, her boot kicking the bedframe with a rhythmic, metallic thump. She doesn't look up from the comic book in her lap, but her eyes are narrowed, tracking the way Phoebe’s fingers tremble. The tension between them is a physical thing, a taut cord of electricity that makes the fine hairs on Helga's arms stand up.
"We just need to out-evil him," Helga grunts. She shifts, the fabric of her dress rubbing against the sheets with a dry hiss. "Ugh. Scheck." She tastes the name like something spoiled. "Sounds like you're vomiting just to say his name."
Phoebe lets out a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. She can feel the frantic rhythm of her own cardiac cycle—the systole and diastole hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The thought of the man’s reach makes her stomach churn, a cold coil of nausea twisting in her gut.
"My parents want to move back to Kentucky if he demolishes our house," Phoebe admits, her voice breaking. The idea is a physical weight, pressing the air out of her lungs.
Helga is off the bed in one fluid motion. She closes the gap between them, her presence a sudden heat that floods Phoebe’s periphery. She grabs Phoebe’s wrist, her grip firm and grounding, the warmth of her palm searing through Phoebe's cold skin. "That's not gonna happen, Pheebs," Helga snarls, her eyes flashing with a protective, raw intensity. "Nobody bulldozes your life on my watch."