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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 2 months ago

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IT'S FINALLY DONE. OH GOD THIS IS MY VERY FIRST CRACK-CROSSOVER I'M SCARED—

(Lol, don't worry, I'm kidding. . .well, actually half-kidding, let's say)

It's usually pretty damn hard for me to keep stuff short, but I suppose I gave it the ol' college try. . .I hope you enjoy this!

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Terminal Case of the Ol' Switcheroo [Part 1]

(Disclaimer: only one of the EgoPats in this snippet belongs to me. For more information about Caliban, go here. And if you'd like to learn about the mob he works for, go here.)

(One more thing: I’ve actually written a full character analysis on the dynamic between Mad and Caliban. If you’re interested, please feel free to check it out here.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, knives/blades, implied kidnapping, implied violence, talk of murder/death, cannibalism, mentions of illegal business, eating/drinking, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Epilogue

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“W-wait, hold on—” All the screaming inside Ness’ head seemed to fold in on itself, ever-so-slightly muffled as he squinted up at his captor. “Have. . .have we met before?”

“Possibly in Michigan,” Mr. Sharp Teeth mused, chuckling at the new confusion on Ness’ face; clearly this guy was the type who enjoyed really obscure stuff. He then gave pause, his sly grin fading away as he tilted his head and squinted right back. A couple seconds passed by before his eyes widened, before something flickered on his face.

“Ah—no! No, we haven’t,” Mr. Sharp Teeth reiterated, clearing his throat and shaking his head in spite of the fact that it was obviously already too late for denial. “Definitely don’t remember you from anywhere. Nope, you’re not ringing any bells at all. Sorry about that.”

More alarm bells started ringing, but somehow they didn’t stop Ness from blurting, “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve been wrong before, but—you look familiar to me.”

The surprise on Mr. Sharp Teeth’s expression morphed into panic. But then, that panic didn’t last long before something much darker and more desperate chased it away.

“Alright, let me rephrase: I’d better not look familiar to you,” he explained, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes. “Being recognizable isn’t always a good thing in my line of work. And if you can somehow recognize me more than I can afford to let you, then things just won’t go well for either of us.”

He leaned closer, knuckles turning white as he gripped Ness’ shoulder. “Get the picture?”

Ness’ instincts shrieked for him to back away. Actually, scratch that, his spine was trying its damnedest to break out of his skin and go somewhere less tense. But thanks to the bindings, all he could do was lower his head to show cautious, frightened respect.

“Yes, I-I’ve got it,” Ness stammered. “I understand, I swear!”

“Good.” Mr. Sharp Teeth’s eyes drilled into him for a few more long, harsh seconds before he let out a little sigh and nodded, pulling away to resume pacing the concrete floor.

A shiver raced up Ness’ spine with disrespectful speed. The cacophony in his mind hadn’t exactly tapered down at all, but it still seemed to partially give way to a sardonic little voice that chided him for playing all those horror games that revolved around retail workers having their night-shifts go from bad to worse. The fact that he’d perfectly fit the bill for one of those helpless protagonists even before this happened really didn’t do his mood any favors.

After a long, uncomfortable few minutes, he decided to pipe up again.

“. . .I’ve lived in a lot of rough places,” Ness coughed, his voice quiet and careful.

Mr. Sharp Teeth glanced at him. “So?”

“So, I–I know the score,” Ness reiterated. “I don’t know everything about your. . .your type of business, but I still know the basics. I know when and how to keep my mouth shut.”

“Sure you do,” Mr. Sharp Teeth hummed, though a teensy bit of stress seemed to vanish from his features. You’d have to squint, but Ness was pretty sure he’d caught it. He had to take that as a somewhat-decent sign.

Mr. Sharp Teeth sighed again, folding his arms across his chest and drumming his fingers on his bicep. Obviously still deep in thought, he started chewing his lip, allowing the allowing the very thing that caused Ness to come up with that nickname in his mind to catch the light.

That was the first thing Ness had seen when he’d come to a few minutes ago.

Or, more accurately, when the burlap sack that now lay empty on the floor had been taken off his head a few minutes ago, he’d come face-to-face with that same set of of pearly-white teeth.

. . .Well, except for one. The upper-left canine, to be exact. It had only taken a few seconds for Ness to see how that one technically wasn’t a tooth at all. It was just a silvery cap meant to look like a tooth. Apparently the real one was gone.

The silver tooth-cap shone in the light much more than its neighbors. It really wasn’t much of a stretch to compare it to a knife. In fact, the longer Ness looked at it, the more he thought it looked similar to a fang.

Something meant to rip and tear into a meal that was still conscious and struggling rather than simply grind up a piece of food that was either already dead and processed or had never been alive in the first place because you just needed to add some water and pop it in the microwave.

The fact that it, along with the rest, had been bared in a grin that looked too wide and too…well, sharp didn’t bode well. At all.

And it was because of that train of thought that Ness decided he really, really didn’t want to know how the original tooth had been lost. Natural curiosity be damned.

Even so, there was no doubting just how familiar it was to Ness, along with the jagged little scar set in the skin right above Mr. Sharp Teeth’s upper lip.

No, Ness knew he’d seen them before, seen their owner before. The more he thought, the more he could just barely remember making smalltalk with a man who had come in for dinner with a couple friends late one evening.

The only difference between then and now was that Mr. Sharp Teeth was wearing a black apron over a dark blue button-down rather than a red-leather-jacket-black-hoodie-combo.

. . .Plus, the fact that Ness was bound to a chair in the corner of a place he’d never seen before, rather than the kitchen at Sparky’s. That was a huge departure, too.

“I guess you really have been through some crap,” Mr. Sharp Teeth finally announced.

Ness offered a combination of nod and shrug, swallowing the lump in his throat. He really wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment. “How do you mean?”

Mr. Sharp Teeth shrugged back. “Well, you calmed down a lot faster than I expected.”

“Trust me, I haven’t. It’s just all on the inside right now,” Ness let out a mirthless, sopping-wet laugh.

“Ah.” Mr. Sharp Teeth nodded sagely. “That definitely makes more sense.”

Ness felt a paw brush against his cheek, courtesy of the long-eared ball of pale fur that was currently sniffing at his shirt. “I mean, having a bunny this close makes things seem an iota less terrifying. No offense.”

Mr. Sharp Teeth snorted. “Snare’s not a bunny. He’s a hare. I thought that’d be obvious.”

Ness squinted, examining the creature a little more closely. “. . .No, wait, I can see it now. I’ve just never really seen a white hare before.”

“Most people haven’t,” Mr. Sharp Teeth replied.

The ha–er, Snare seemed to puff up his little chest at the statement, his adorable Y-shaped nose twitching as if to say, Yeah, that’s right. I’m special.

Quiet smugness aside, Ness was kinda-sorta in the odd little creature’s debt.

After all, Snare had been the one to stop his owner from just going ahead with all the torture he’d apparently had planned for tonight.

Snare had been the proof Ness so desperately needed that this really was some insane misunderstanding.

When Ness had still been panicking, still trying to defend himself against Mr. Sharp Teeth’s claims that Ness already knew who he was and why he he’d been knocked out and subsequently dragged to wherever this was. . .Snare had taken the chance to hop up onto Ness’ lap, bracing his paws against the waiter’s chest to curiously inspect him.

That had been the thing to make Mr. Sharp Teeth give pause.

Because apparently, Snare couldn’t stand whoever Ness had been mistaken for.

It hadn’t helped a lot, since Ness was still bound to a chair and forced to watch Mr. Sharp Teeth fidget with the very same meat cleaver he’d taunted him with earlier, but something was better than nothing.

Thinking of which. . .

“Who was meant to be here?” Ness blurted. He didn’t know why, but if he had to be anywhere against his will, then damn it, he’d better get to ask at least a few questions. “Who are you after?”

“Like that’s any of your business,” Mr. Sharp Teeth snickered. He came a little closer. “The real question is. . .what to do with you.”

Ness felt his heart sink. His mouth opened and closed with no words coming out.

“On one hand, there wouldn’t be any point in killing you, since you’re not even a target,” Mr. Sharp Teeth mused. “On the other hand, you’ve definitely seen a bit too much for my liking, and I’m not sure I can really trust you to commit to keeping quiet, no matter how much you promise to.”

He aimed a quizzical glare in his captive's direction. Ness couldn’t help but shrink a little.

“On the right index finger,” Mr. Sharp Teeth continued, “if I keep you alive down here, there’s a chance we could find a way for you to be useful in the future. But on the left index finger, there’s also a chance that you might find a way to escape, even with all the precautions I’ve set up. And on the right middle finger, you’re guaranteed not to escape if I just kill you.”

“All valid points, all valid points,” Ness admitted, his vocal cords finally remembering how to work. “But on the left middle finger, I have friends who I know would try to track me down if I ever went missing; they’d just cause you more problems if they came looking for me.”

He paused for a brief second, thinking frantically.

“A-and on the right ring finger,” he added in a rush, “there’s still a chance I might know something about the guy you mistook me for. But if I’m dead, then you won’t be able to ask me any questions about him, right?”

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised his eyebrows at this. “. . .You know you just kind of copied one of the points I made.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ness gulped. “But. . .I think it still stands, don’t you?”

Mr. Sharp Teeth’s only reply was a vague hum. Even so, a small, strange smile graced his lips. Amusement seemed to flicker in his dark eyes, along with…something else. Ness couldn’t tell what it was—part of him got dangerously close to wondering if it was something similar to respect—but it didn’t seem bad. Not yet, at least.

That smile died a quick-yet-brutal death as low, organic growl broke the relative silence. Ness recognized it by instinct; he himself heard it whenever he hadn’t gotten enough to eat during his breaks.

Mr. Sharp Teeth shook his head a little, fishing a phone out of his pocket to glance at the clock on its screen. “Oh—oh, right, today’s the day—”

With that, he turned away, quickly walking over to the other side of the room.

While this place certainly didn’t look like Sparky’s kitchen (or even the kitchen in the apartment Ness had been sharing with Jack for the last few years), there was no denying how it'd been set up like one.

From where he sat, Ness could see a block-island in the center of everything. All manner of cooking equipment was positioned against the walls: a refrigerator, an oven, a utility sink, a chamber vacuum sealer not at all unlike the one he’d seen in the butchery department of his local grocery store. . .and a huge chest freezer that Mr. Sharp Teeth was now rummaging through. The appliance’s lid thudded shut as he fished out a rather large bundle of something wrapped up in layers of white paper.

Ness watched as his captor set the bundle down on the block island before going through its drawers. He produced a leather roll and a stainless steel case; Ness felt even more cold sweat materialize on his forehead as the former was revealed to be holding a collection of chef’s knives, while the latter turned out to be full to bursting with surgical tools.

After setting what looked like a cast iron skillet on the stove, Mr. Sharp Teeth began peeling back all the paper that shrouded whatever he’d taken from the freezer.

The entree that was unveiled. . .well, Ness couldn’t tell what it was at first. He couldn’t get a good vantage point, and really, that wasn’t his fault. For the first few seconds, all he could see was a dull, pale-pink lump among the discarded wrapping. Then again, he’d cooked enough to recognize cuts of raw meat when he saw them.

That particular thought took on a whole new, sinister meaning when Mr. Sharp Teeth turned it to the side in order to line up a knife against it: the way he moved it caused a set of five fingers to drape over the edge of the block-island.

Time seemed to slow down.

Ness felt a cluster of thorns manifest in his throat. He was forced to grit his teeth: if he let his jaw drop at the terrifying sight, then he risked something much more solid than panicked breath flowing out of his mouth.

The next few minutes felt like at least three hours apiece.

With swift, fluid movements and experienced hands, Mr. Sharp Teeth sliced a generous portion of flesh out of the arm, guiding his knife from the wrist all the way to the elbow.

Once he was satisfied, he gathered up the leaking morsel in his hands and carried it over to the stove, where it landed against the pan’s metal embrace with a sizzling splat.

“. . .You’re a cannibal!” Ness cried. That was all there was to it. There really wasn’t much else he could say at that moment.

Mr. Sharp Teeth glanced back at him. That same sharp, unhinged, hungry grin from earlier etched its way across his face.

“Sure I am! What’s your point?” He replied, lightly jabbing at the air with the bloody blade for emphasis. He then threw his head back, cackling in a way that made the sound seem to slither into Ness’ ears.

Under normal circumstances, Ness wouldn’t have been shy about calling people out for laughing at their own jokes. However, this was FAR PAST a normal circumstance, and cannibals were not people he could really afford to call out for the sake of his health.

Snare suddenly perked up, long ears twitching as he leaned away from Ness. Then, fast as a bullet, he hopped down from the captive’s lap and scurried over to stand on his hind legs and paw at his owner’s apron.

Mr. Sharp Teeth glanced down at his pet, raising an eyebrow. “Ohhhh, so now that I’ve brought out a treat, SUDDENLY you want to spend time with me again? Real convenient how that works, huh?”

Snare, of course, didn’t exactly reply, but he still made a sound argument via leaning against the cannibal’s leg, looking up at him with bright, warm, excited amber eyes.

“No, don’t give me that look—don’t give me that look, Snare!” Mr. Sharp Teeth argued, pointedly looking away. “You know what you did.”

Snare tilted his head, his fuzzy little face suddenly looking quite sad. His oval-shaped ears drooped almost like wilting flowers. With a now slightly-shaking paw, he reached up to scrub at his little muzzle.

Mr. Sharp Teeth gazed at the hare yet again, and his expression immediately softened. “. . .D’aww, fine! I can’t stay mad at you!”

He then reached down to scoop the pale hare up, cuddling him against his face. “Who’s my bad boy? Who’s my bad boy? Oh, you are! Yes, that’s you!”

Like a switch being flipped, Snare abandoned his dejected look and happily nuzzled his owner’s cheek, purring in a gravelly, odd-yet-cute way.

Afterwards, Mr. Sharp Teeth set the hare back down before returning his focus to the arm. He took a thick pair of scissors from the leather roll. . .as well as a pair of tweezers from the steel case. He cut the fingers away from the hand in less than a minute. He plucked the grayish-blue nails out of the skin in even less time than that.

He then took one of the digits and lightly tossed it over to Snare, who jumped at just the right moment to catch it. He sat back on his haunches, holding the finger between his paws, crimson stains quickly spreading on his pale fur as his buck-teeth sheared away at the flesh.

. . .Somehow, this display wasn’t the most horrific thing Ness had ever seen (remember, he worked at a roadside diner), but it was still pretty high-ranking.

“Th-the guy you mixed me up with,” Ness choked out, his filter having taken a well-deserved vacation. “You—you were going to eat him?!”

“Oh, c’mon, What do people always say about making assumptions?” Mr. Sharp Teeth chided with a sly, insane smirk. “If you really need to know, I was just gonna rough him up a little. We’ve had a whole catch-and-release thing for a while now; I like my meat medium-rare, not char-grilled. Besides, he’s the type of guy you can’t not mess with, y’know?”

“NO!” Ness argued, frantically shaking his head. “No, I really don’t!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m not sure I believe that.”

He then waved a dismissive hand. “Look, I know what you’re thinking right now. But believe me: the guy who should’ve been in your place? He deserves all the stuff I specialize in.”

“‘Believe you?!’” Ness echoed. “I can’t! I’ve never met anyone who deserves to be tortured by some hungry sadistic bastard and his pet!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth offered a long, thoughtful hum in response. “Sure you have. You’re still working that waiter job, right?”

Ness’ intended retort died on his tongue. Hell, he even briefly stopped trembling for the first time since he’d regained consciousness.

Memories from both the past and the present came flooding back. He’d been working in the food industry ever since he’d grown tall enough to take cups or plates from a counter without standing on his tip-toes. And ever since then, it’d been impossible for a week to go by without at least two customers acting. . .less than ideal.

Ness usually wasn’t the type to hold grudges, but. . .every cruel word, every patronizing gesture, every occasional display of actual violence that he’d experienced. . .it’d all just stuck to his mind like a tumor.

And he knew deep down that it would never, never leave him alone.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mr. Sharp Teeth’s voice was shockingly soft as he clearly read the emotions on his captive’s face like a book.

“My sister runs one of the best restaurants in this city; sometimes I’ll pop in to help her out. I’ve seen customers pull all sorts of petty BS with her staff for no goddamn reason. It’s infuriating, isn’t it?”

Against his instincts, Ness slowly nodded.

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

Ness nodded again. Then, somehow, he found his voice.

“Still,” he replied in a shaky whisper, “even if people deserve bad karma, bad karma doesn’t just automatically mean death!”

“You’d be surprised by how quickly that snowball can roll.” Mr. Sharp Teeth clicked his tongue. As he tended to his meal, he continued: “In any case, what I do has rules. I can only afford to eat the targets my friends and I are hired to get rid of.”

“. . .Really?” Ness asked, trying not to let hope flood through his chest too quickly.

“Yeah, really,” Mr. Sharp Teeth huffed. He glanced at him over his shoulder, his eyes now completely unreadable. “There’s this new thing: it’s called Basic Self-Control. It’s not very popular among most people, but I’ve been able to manage with it so far.”

“I feel like a lot of self-control involves not chopping people up to snack on later,” Ness muttered.

“Maybe for you,” Mr. Sharp Teeth shot back.

A tense silence fell over the room.

The smell of blistering flesh was quick to seep into the air; it was all Ness could do to keep from gagging.

Sooner or later, dinner was apparently ready.

Mr. Sharp Teeth transferred the slice of human-person from the pan to a plate. And for all his talk about self-control, he certainly didn’t wait long to tuck into his meal. Little droplets of blood splattered around his mouth as he ate with a gusto Ness hadn’t seen before and hoped to never see ever again.

Ness’ stomach churned with horror. He lowered his head, trying to keep his gaze firmly planted on his shoes. Why the hell couldn’t he close his eyes. . ?!

Somehow, someway, thoughts were still able to reach him through the fog of fear.

Mr. Sharp Teeth had mentioned being paid to kill. That had to mean he was some kind of hitman, right? What kind of weird, unconventional laws existed in the underground business? (Ness actually had an idea, but he’d been wrong before.)

What’s more, it was unclear whether or not he’d been paid to go after the guy he’d mistaken Ness for. But either way, that obviously meant that he hadn’t been paid to go after Ness. . .

So, did that mean Ness still had a chance? Even just a small one?

A sharp, sibilant chime cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.

Ness’s heart stopped: he knew that sound. He knew that sound very damn well.

He looked up, eyes frantically scanning the room. He saw Mr. Sharp Teeth hovering over a plate that was now empty, unless you counted a few streaks of red against the white finish, drinking a can of Diet Coke he’d apparently brought out from somewhere in Hammer Space.

The ringtone went off again; this time, Ness could pinpoint it.

A cellphone–his cellphone–was lying vacant on top of the refrigerator, along with all the other things that had apparently been taking up space in Ness’ pockets before he was kidnapped.

Mr. Sharp Teeth put the soda can down, glancing at his captive before moving to grab the device.

“Who is it?” Ness asked, his voice weak.

Mr. Sharp Teeth stayed quiet for a few more seconds before finally replying, “Someone called ‘Mikey-Bear Jinglehiemer Schidmt.’”

Ness felt his face burn. How the hell had he forgotten to change that contact name?!

He blinked, and Mr. Sharp Teeth’s thumbs were suddenly gliding about the screen, eliciting a chorus of little blip-blip-blips as he typed.

“Hey!” Ness blurted. “What are you doing?!”

“It’d be rude to just leave him on Read, wouldn’t it?” Mr. Sharp Teeth grinned as he hit what was so obviously the Send button.

“No, wait!” Ness cried. “You can’t drag him into this! Just—just let me talk to him for a minute! I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out about you, please—!”

Just like that, he was writhing like an animal in a trap all over again. Mike may have not have been his favorite person at the moment, but he didn’t deserve whatever scheme Mr. Sharp Teeth could come up with!

Mr. Sharp Teeth could tell Mike anything if he played his cards right! He could convince him that Ness had fled the country, that Ness hated his guts, that Ness was running off with a new boyfriend!

He could use Ness as a prop to extort Mike, or lure him down here to be tortured, or. . !

“He asked what you were doing,” Mr. Sharp Teeth announced. “So I just had to tell him that you’re tied up at the moment.” He winked, slightly manic giggles leaking through his red-tinged teeth.

. . .Or he could just make puns. That was an option too, apparently.

Ness’ phone chimed yet again, and Mr. Sharp Teeth squinted as he read the reply aloud.

“‘Very funny, you’re literally in the next room over. Is everything okay?’”

Ness could practically feel the color drain from his face. “But. . .no. No, no, no! That isn’t possible! I was almost a mile away from him when you knocked me out!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Then who is he with right now?”

Ness wracked his brain, only to freeze in place. Tears gathered in his eyes. “My stalker. It has to be; h-he mentioned Mike in the last letter he left at Sparky’s!”

“‘Stalker?’” Mr. Sharp Teeth echoed. He set Ness’ phone down and started pacing. A few long seconds passed before he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, eyes widening in time with a snarl.

“How close did this guy ever manage to get to you? Did you ever see him? If so. . .did he happen to be wearing a bear costume, by chance?”

Ness could hardly believe his ears. “Yes! I mean, he never approached me directly, but I still got a few glimpses of him! How did you—”

“That’s why I mixed you up!” Mr. Sharp Teeth shouted, seemingly to himself. “Of course you two were in the same place at the same time! Oh my God, that slippery sON OF A BITCH!” He pounded his fist against the block-island, prompting a dull thud! to ring through the room.

Ness gaped like a fish. He’d witnessed plenty of disturbing coincidences before, but having a stalker who apparently had some kind of petty rivalry with a cannibalistic hitman was in a weight-class of its own.

“I need to get back to Mike!” The tears were flowing freely now. Ness’ nerves felt like they’d been dipped in acid. “God knows what he’ll do to him—what if Abby is there when it happens?!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth went quiet again, turning his head to face Ness so violently that it looked like he was on the brink of a seizure. He furiously gestured for Ness to elaborate.

“Abby! Mike’s little sister!” Ness cried without thinking. “She—she’s already been through so much! She can’t be anywhere near that lunatic!”

Something new slithered onto Mr. Sharp Teeth’s features. It took some time for Ness to realize that it was. . .fear. Pure, genuine fear.

“You’re damn right she can’t,” Mr. Sharp Teeth agreed, his voice now hollow.

“What do you mean? How can you tell—” Ness tried to ask.

Mr. Sharp Teeth cut him off. “That idiot’s got a price on his head for a lot of things. One of them being that. . .well. . .” His tone was grim as he took his apron off, crossing the room to don that same jacket-hoodie-combo Ness had seen so long ago. “He isn’t exactly known for picking on people his own size.”

A terrified, strangled cry ripped its way through Ness’ throat.

“Well, looks like it's your lucky day,” Mr. Sharp Teeth announced. “I can get you back to them in one piece. You just have to hold still—”

He rummaged through a bag that hung from the same rack that his jacket had been placed on, pulling out the long, slender, unmistakable shape of a syringe. “I used a higher dose than I should’ve earlier, but there should still be enough to keep you asleep until everything’s clear.”

As his captor-turned-sort-of-ally(?) approached, Ness, furiously shook his head. “NO! You can’t just knock me out again!”

“I’m pretty sure I can,” Mr. Sharp Teeth snarked, spinning the syringe in his hand.

“I need to be awake for this!" Ness protested, "I need to be able to help!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised an eyebrow. “Look, just be glad I’m not trying to use chloroform, okay? It’ll be better for everyone if I can just take care of this myself.”

“And how exactly is that going to work?!” Ness snapped back. “Think about it: I wasn’t anywhere near mine or Mike’s place when you took me! You have no idea where Mike lives! It doesn’t matter what kind of resources you may or may not have; if you don’t let me help, you’ll still be taking shots in the dark!”

For the first time all night, Mr. Sharp Teeth seemed more uncertain than Ness. His brow furrowed as he weighed the options.

“I told you before: I know the score,” Ness tried. “I know how to keep my nose out of certain things. . .and that means I know how to keep other people away from those things, too! If this guy is as horrible as you’re implying, then I won’t have any problem with you hunting him down if it means keeping him away from the people I care about! But that can only happen as quick and efficient as you probably need it to if you have my help!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth stared at Ness for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Ness tried desperately to read his expression, to see what else he had to do to convince him. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t.

From its place on the block-island, Ness’ phone chimed once more.

Mr. Sharp Teeth shut his eyes tight for a few seconds, heaving a harsh sigh as he re-opened them.

“If you’re really insisting on this,” he finally proclaimed, “then you’re gonna follow my lead. You’re gonna do exactly as I say, and you’re gonna keep your damn mouth shut until I give you the all-clear. Understood?!”

Ness only hesitated for about a millisecond. Then he nodded, hoping his eyes were just as fierce as his former captor’s.

Mr. Sharp Teeth gave him another tense, searching look. He then stuffed the syringe into one of his jacket's pockets before moving to untie the bindings around his wrists.

“You’d better not make me regret this,” he growled.

Snare, who seemed very excited by all the new vibes in the room, didn’t waste any time in hopping onto his owner’s shoulders.

___

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @the-matpat-ever @lexusinsannus @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0 @lampsforsocks

A comic I made that happened pre-handless Madpat.

A little spinoff where Mike Schmidt being the sleepy Himbo that he is, confused a certain killer with his beloved Ness, and now Madpat is confused whether or not he should kill this guy, or play along as he never had any affection from anyone before, so he’s intrigued. @crazy-obsessed-enby @wouldntyou-liketoknow @iswmperson @lexusinsannus

Meanwhile with Ness:

Ness: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!

Caliban: How rude, I might not eat you if you tell me where that dreadful Madpat it

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 1 year ago

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My Goretober Ventures So Far. . .

These are the projects I try to churn out every October. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to write for all thirty-one days, but who knows?

For now, though, I plan to just write for a week each year. (Exceptions might be made if the edgelord stars happen to align. For example: the latest Friday The 13th in October.)

……….

A Week of Goretober 2024

Day 1: Infection (MadPat/AftonPat)

Day 2: Operation (Murdock, K.O.)

Day 3: Lyric Inspired (Phantom, Bones)

Day 4: Burst Vessels (Garret, The Newcomer)

Day 5: Submerged (Parker, Murdock)

Day 6: Malformed (Sol, LeviathanPat, ColosSeptic)

Day 7: Ritual [HALLOWEEN SPECIAL] (Cruz, EldritchPlier, Sol, LeviathanPat, Moses, ColosSeptic)

……….

The Thirteen Days of Goretober 2023

Day 1: Impalement (Lucas/Captain!Lix)

Day 2: Self-Mutilation (Phantom)

Day 3: Broken Bones (K.O., Murdock, Caliban, Azalea)

Day 4: Amputation (Caliban, Murdock, R.D.)

Day 5: Drain (Fenwyn, Celine)

Day 6: Decapitation (Janus Sanders, Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders)

Day 7: Needles (Azalea, Murdock, Caliban, K.O.)

Day 8: Sensory Deprivation (Bones, Phantom)

Day 9: Plants (CryptidXian)

Day 10: Dissection (Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders)

Day 11: Split (Wilford Warfstache)

Day 12: Putrefaction (Unus, Annus)

Day 13: Bloodbath (Convict!Mark)

HALLOWEEN 2023 SPECIAL: Bloody Tricks and Even Bloodier Treats (Sam Ryder, Azalea, Murdock, Caliban, K.O.)

……….

A Week of Goretober 2022

Day 1: Voodoo Doll (Phantom, Bones)

Day 2: Cannibalism (Caliban, Murdock, The Newcomer)

Day 3: Broken Glass (Damien, Celine, The District Attorney, Darkiplier)

Day 4: Suffocation (The Captain, Head Engineer Mark)

Day 5: Revenge (Natemare, FNAF’s Missing Children, Purple Guy/Afton/Springtrap)

Day 6: Specimen Preservation (Phantom, Anti-Matter)

Day 7: Lyric Inspired (The Reader, Scaredy/SCARED-E)

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 23 days ago

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Oh, Mad for SURE. Since I've been writing about him lately, along with watching the latest FNAF Musical installments, he's just been on my mind.

...Plus, I've put him through an absolute THRASHING in mine and @insane4fandoms little collab, so to hear that he's still feeling some type of way in a different story-universe is hilarious

Which part are you most interested to read?

#polls #madpat #aftonpat #matpat #egopats #matthew patrick #fnaf the musical

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intered · 4 months ago

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theorussy...

i finally got around to watching the fun facts video for web of lies and these two facts are absolutely everything you need to know about matpat i think

#fnaf the musical #fnaf #random encounters #fnaftm #matpat #aftonpat

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lexusinsannus · 4 months ago

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cant wait to meet you- (aftonpat walks in)

i should do this in cosplay

day 1 of drawing fnaftm until shadows of agony is out

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 1 month ago

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(OH GOD I’M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT BUT HEY AT LEAST IT’S HERE NOW—)

Here we are, folks: it all comes down to this!

Mad finally, FINALLY hears some boss music, and Caliban gets to have a dramatic flipping-out-contest with him. Ness, meanwhile, actually gets a break from all the action...kind of...

___

Terminal Case of the Ol’ Switcheroo [Part 4]

(Disclaimer: only one of the EgoPats in this snippet belongs to me. For more information about Caliban, go here. And if you’d like to learn about the mob he works for, go here. Ness belongs to the FNAF movie. MadPat belongs to Random Encounters.)

(One more thing: I’ve actually written a full character analysis on the dynamic between Mad and Caliban. If you’re interested, please feel free to check it out here.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, knives/blades, violence, implied violence, talk of murder/death, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of illegal business, eating/drinking, implied stalking, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

___

“That’s Jack’s cab.” Ness’ mouth moved faster than his brain, as the words came tumbling out before he even heard himself.

Despite this, it seemed the statement was much quieter than he thought, as Caliban tossed a questioning glance his way. “What?”

“Jack works in a taxi business,” Ness murmured, his eyes still glued to the windshield. “That’s his cab—that’s him in there!”

Caliban had kept his car’s headlights out for so long that Ness’ eyes were slow to adjust to the taxi’s bright, artificial glow. It didn’t help that he was now unable to blink and would probably stay that way for the next hour (at least).

But the scene up ahead was all the same.

Mad was back, looming before him once again: the distance between the two of them was only somewhat larger than it had been back at Mike’s house. Even with the car acting as a protective barrier, he still felt paralyzed.

And now that psycho was scraping his knife along metal, staring at the same guy who had been living with Ness and putting up with Ness’ theoretical antics and being basically the only person in Ness’ corner before Mike and Abby came along.

Somehow, Ness’ eyes managed to wander away from Mad and focus on the taxi’s passenger windows.

It was then that he realized several things at once.

The first was that tonight wasn’t on Jack’s driving schedule—he treated his cab like a casual car for convenience, so he should’ve been alone in there.

The second was that Jack was most certainly not alone right now, because as Ness stared, he saw a silhouetted shape riding shotgun.

The third was that the silhouette in question was small; small enough that their head and shoulders were just barely past the window.

The fourth was that he recognized a bright blue backpack with candy-red straps that the passenger was clutching to their chest. He remembered joking about how that backpack nearly matched the cyan-tinted leather jacket he was wearing right now.

The fifth was that he also recognized short, dark brown curls that tickled the passenger’s shoulders…as well as a pair of big chestnut eyes that were so thoughtful and wise (both of which were now being clouded with fear) despite their obvious youth.

Ness’ mind all but caved in at that point, so there was no sixth item on his list.

“Abby,” Ness cried. Part of him felt like his voice could only be heard by dogs at that second. Another part, meanwhile, was shocked that the car’s windows hadn’t shattered all at once. He reached over to shake Caliban’s shoulder, pointing toward the windshield. “Abby’s there! HE can see her!”

Caliban had been in the middle of opening his mouth to ask more questions, but now his jaw went slack as the color drained from his face.

To his credit, he didn’t freeze. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and shifted in his seat to roll his window down. And for a split-second, Ness could’ve sworn that he saw the cannibal’s hand ever-so-slightly shaking.

Cool nighttime air came seeping into the car—for whatever reason, it felt akin to droplets of ice-water splashing against his skin.

Then, in a low, soft voice, Caliban pronounced, “Snare.”

Like a soldier called to attention, the pale hare leapt over the center console and onto his owner’s lap, dark amber eyes wide.

“Now’s your time to shine, buddy.” Caliban gathered Snare up in his arms, then maneuvered him to look at the taxi that was just ten-or-so feet away. “We can’t stop ‘em from following, but we can still keep some distance. You need to be fast, okay? Give that thing a handicap, and then you come right back to me. Understand?”

As he gazed through the windshield, Snare’s eyes suddenly narrowed. His long ears flattened, his little nostrils flared. He bared his buck-teeth and let out a small, gravelly hiss.

Then, he glanced back at Caliban, craning his neck to nudge at his cheek before squirming in his grasp.

Caliban nodded before releasing his hold. “Alright, go! Hurry, hurry!”

The hare didn’t need to be told twice; he became a blur of movement, hopping through the open window and scampering off into the shadows. It didn’t take very long for Ness to lose track of him. Very surprising for a creature with white fur.

Ness tore his eyes from everything up ahead in order to gape at Caliban.

“…What’s that supposed to do?!” He demanded, feeling his nails dig into leather, getting dangerously close to raising his voice.

“Slow ‘em down,” Caliban replied, not looking in the waiter’s direction as he drummed his fingers against the wheel. “Can’t afford to have the kid get any closer to this than she already is. We’re going to Plan C.”

“Plan C?” Ness echoed, shocked at just how incredulous he felt in spite of his panic. “But—but there’s no time for a Plan C—”

There was barely enough time for Ness to let go of the crimson sleeve before Caliban’s fist was in the air, meeting the center console with a heavy thump!

The cannibal almost lunged at his passenger. Almost, because he managed to stop himself halfway in favor of just looming closer.

Just like a few hours ago, back in the den where this entire disaster had started in the first place, all Ness could see were teeth.

Lips peeled back like a snarling dog, those pearly-whites glinted in the darkness with a viscous energy. The silver canine-cap looked even sharper than before; if Ness concentrated, he could see his terrified expression reflected against it.

And they all seemed to gnash at the air as Caliban snapped, “Do you wanna keep your friends safe or not?!”

Ness edged away, partially curling in on himself. Dull pain flared through his arm as his elbow and shoulder knocked against the passenger-side door. He held up his other hand to shield his face, bracing himself.

He expected Caliban to snatch a handful of his jacket and tug him closer so he could punch him, slap him, bite him.

But as the seconds dragged their way by, as the new quiet festered…none of those things happened.

And now that Ness’ eyes were finally wandering up to meet Caliban’s…

Well, he saw quite a variety of things that could be described as psychotic, but that wasn’t it. Something new was flickering within them. At first he thought it was fear, but he was wrong.

This was despair: more raw, more painful, more tinged with what Ness miraculously knew without knowing were…memories.

The kind of memories that weren’t meant to be shared with anyone.

Not unless they had just as many old wounds that would never, never heal.

Not unless the shadows around you were dark and deep enough that you could burrow into them to try and make aforementioned wounds JUST ROT ALREADY, because decay always found a way to move faster than recovery.

This wasn’t just about anger or bloodthrist or whatever petty, horrific history Caliban apparently had with Mad.

There was mutual interest here. (Or, something close to it, at least.)

The current elements worked to keep this from getting awkward, but they would only last so long.

Moving carefully, Ness lowered his hand, corrected his posture.

Caliban, in turn, backed off. While his expression didn’t relax whatsoever, his teeth still wound up hidden by his lips once more.

“Yes,” Ness answered, nodding, his tone hushed and taut…and, somehow, understanding. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he knew that it needed to be. “Yes, I do.”

A long couple seconds dragged by before Caliban nodded back. “Good.”

He made to rest his arm on the bottom windowpane, only to flinch back.

The sound of claws scratching against metal would’ve sent Ness into another panic…however, now that Snare’s fuzzy face was a somewhat familiar sight, he managed to keep himself together.

A smile etched its way across Caliban’s features so fast that it seemed to give him a bit of whiplash, but he still scooped his pet up all the same. “Yeah! Good job, buddy! You did great!”

The hare bounced in place, the tips of his ears twitching with excitement. He was suddenly in Ness’ lap again, pawing at his shirt, swaying to and fro not unlike a hyper kitten.

As Ness stared, he realized that Snare was holding something between his teeth—something tiny and dark. The object fell away soon enough due to all the hare’s movement. Ness palmed it, lifting it up for a better look.

His eyes managed to grow even wider than they already had been. If his environment had been a bit more lighthearted, he might have thought back to all the overexaggerated effects that were drawn whenever cartoon characters gasped or screamed.

It was a valve cap.

He glanced back up through the windshield. It took a few seconds of staring at the taxi’s back tires, but he still managed to catch movement on one of them.

There was no low popping or hissing, and the process was moving at a slow pace…but the rubber was, indeed, growing loose.

Bit-by-bit.

“Get ready to take the wheel,” Caliban instructed.

A cold spark manifested in the hollows of Ness’ eyelids. It moved to rattle through his skull, shot along his ribs, and dripped down his spine before it finally plummeted into his stomach and started churning there.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Ness stammered, hating how small his voice was as he stared at the cannibal, who was now rolling his shoulders, eyes drifting shut.

“I said—” Caliban turned his head from side-to-side, eliciting a low, sickening crack from the joints in his neck. “—Get. Ready. To take. THE WHEEL.”

The smile seemed to warp on his skin. It was much wider, more sick than any expression he’d made earlier; combined with the dim light, he truly appeared to have a mouthful of razors.

His eyes popped back open, and this time, there was no trace of any pain or aches or dread.

Now, there was only energy.

A chaotic type of energy that made him think of potent acid kept inside an unnecessarily large vial: eager to flood out, to spread, to devour everything in its path.

And, as Caliban ever-so-slightly lowered his head to peer out the windshield through his brows, Ness had to take a millisecond to feel grateful that Mad was the main thing in his path.

Snare pawed at Ness’ chest, clicking his buck teeth together. As excited as he seemed it be, he’d clearly had some kind of premonition earlier, as he was quick to squirm under Ness’ seatbelt, shoulders tense.

The nape of his neck collided with the headrest before he even registered that Caliban had stomped on the gas pedal, that the tires were now screeching against asphalt, that the car was rocketing forward.

The world outside was suddenly a blur; he barely had enough air in his lungs to scream. He couldn’t even close his eyes as he braced for the crash, for the cacophony of grinding metal and shattering glass.

The universe truly worked in mysterious ways, because it was actually a good thing that he couldn’t blind himself to the impending chaos.

If he had, then he wouldn’t have seen how there was about a perfect half-inch of space between Caliban’s car and Jack’s cab.

He wouldn’t have seen how Caliban let out a war-cry and lunged from his seat, partially looming through the open window.

He wouldn’t have seen how Caliban snatched up Mad, executing what was undoubtedly the ballsiest clothesline maneuver possible.

Somehow, the childish side of Ness’ brain decided to perk up right then, murmuring that if he had the ability to pause time, he would’ve just to see the looks on Jack and Abby’s faces because they were in full-on Stuff That Should Only Happen In Movies territory.

Thankfully, his vision started racing back and forth between the windshield and the currently unattended steering wheel. That last set of instructions rattled through his eardrums.

The air was almost knocked right back out of him as his chest slammed against the center console, but he still wrapped his hands around the leather grips, running on pure desperation to keep it steady.

Soon, he couldn’t hear the keening sound of air rushing past the car, thanks to the shrieks of an unfamiliar-yet-unmistakable voice.

“H-HEY, HEY! STOP, LET ME GO—!”

In his peripheral vision, Ness saw Mad just past Caliban, right outside the window. He watched him throw out his arms, kick his legs, thrashing like a rapid opossum. But no matter what he tried, he just couldn’t seem to get out of Caliban's grip around his neck and shoulders.

At this point, Ness had seen plenty of things that made him question his life and every decision he'd made in it.

But honestly…if someone had predicted that all of this would happen, and then told Ness about their prophecy a few months ago?

The part that would’ve surprised him the most would be the idea that Mad could show fear.

The way Mad had stared at him on the fateful night…his rictus of a grin…how he slowly shook his head and murmured under his breath when he thought no-one could see…

Mad really just seemed like the type of person to not have certain emotions. All those damn packages he’d left for Ness to find certainly hadn’t helped his case.

But right here, right now, Mad’s face was twisted into a mess of shock and panic. Eyes the size of dinner plates, verbal vomit flooding out of his mouth as he struggled…

Then again, that seemed to partially fall away when Mad finally craned his neck to look at his captor. Strands of disgust and fury wove their way into his expression at the way the cannibal cackled.

“REALLY LETTING IT ALL HANG OUT THERE, HUH, MAD?!” Caliban shouted, his grin so wide that it legitimately seemed to split his face in half.

“YOU..!” Mad roared, now throwing punches at the car rather than the air around him. “YOU RUINED IT! YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!”

Keeping the other psycho his clutch meant that Caliban had to respond to all that erratic movement in kind. That, in turn, meant thrashing back-and-forth, both through the window as well as in his seat.

Considering a past night-walk of his had somehow ended in him having to contain a stray cat that acted like it’d gotten a whiff of the odd pinch of cocaine-crumbs (or two) in the alleyways around town, Ness was inclined to feel a bit of empathy for Caliban right now.

Only a little bit, though, since having someone’s elbow crash against your jaw a few times in a row was far from the best thing when you were trying to drive.

Ness was more than a little surprised when he managed to swerve the car away from a public mailbox in the nick of time.

In all this new chaos, Ness almost forgot about the close-call Jack and Abby had found themselves in.

…Almost. But that lapse was rectified rather quick.

Jack was an all-around decent guy (so long as you didn’t interrupt his power-naps), but there were only so many friends in his circle. Seeing as Ness was included in that group, he didn’t judge.

Jack kept one particular friend very close a lot of the time; in a special compartment just under his driver’s seat, to be specific. This friend went by the name Remington—Remi for short, though Jack sometimes just defaulted to Buckshot when he was feeling some type of way.

Ness had never really gotten to know Remi himself, but he still knew that Remi was nothing if not a loud, fast, and expressive speaker. Almost immediately after that act of curbside-service-except-without-a-curbside, Ness heard Remi’s signature voice pipe up and make two far-reaching statements.

Against literally all his better judgement—scratch that, all survival instinct—Ness glanced over his shoulder. Jack’s cab was already a tiny blur in the distance, and the darkness didn’t hesitate to start swallowing it up, but he just really wanted to be sure that his roommate was only just weighing the options of just how philosophical the discussion really needed to be.

Hell, those comments were eloquent enough to make Caliban and Mad stop screaming at each other and simply glance back for about ten whole seconds.

Of course, it didn’t stop them from just picking back up where they left off, but the impact was undeniable.

“THIS WON’T CHANGE ANYTHING! YOU CAN’T STOP ME!” Mad declared, swinging at Caliban’s face. A metallic blur gleamed in his grasp, helping Ness to realize a bit too late that his knife wasn’t still stuck in the hood of Jack’s cab. “YOU CAN SLICE AND DICE YOUR DAMN HEART OUT, BUT I’LL STILL GET BACK TO WHERE I STARTED!”

Caliban yelped, jerking back and unintentionally giving Ness a look at the thin, fresh cut that was suddenly opening up on his cheek. To his credit, he was snapping right back in no time.

Literally—as one of Mad’s sleeves slid away from his black glove, Caliban craned his neck, opened wide, and lunged. His teeth sank into the exposed skin of Mad’s forearm, eyes nearly feral as they rolled around in his head.

All the while, Ness suffered the very worst cringe he ever had when he couldn’t keep the car’s right tires from plowing through one of the decorative bushes that had been planted around the perimeter of the local library.

Mad’s shrieking cranked up to eleven (to the point that Ness was sure that if any dogs happened to be nearby, they might’ve heard a fraction of it). He made several rapid-fire attempts to tug his arm back, but Caliban was having none of it. His chompers remained latched-on as he shook his head like a wolf thrashing its prey.

Time seemed to slow down; Ness even managed to glimpse the way that section of Mad’s skin stretched and split and tore as Caliban pulled back. Little red droplets flew between them to meet their end on either the asphalt or the car’s paint-job.

When Caliban finally released Mad’s arm, his face contorted into a grimace so dark and rotten that it could’ve been infested with maggots.

“YOU REALLY THINK I’D PUT YOUR CUTS ON MY TABLE?! DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF!” He spat out a wad of blood that so obviously wasn’t his own. The horrific smile came flooding back onto his face, just in time for another sick, frenzied cackle to rush up from his lungs.

One of Caliban’s hands was a blur as it abandoned Mad’s shoulder to snatch a handful of his messy brown hair. After that, he leaned even further out, pushing his torso against the windowpane.

Once he had a little more leeway, he yanked Mad’s head back…only to slam the other killer’s face against the car door with a resounding WHUMP.

Then, somehow convincing mania and incredulousness to mix very well together, Caliban decided to have a little fun with punctuation as he continued. “I’M JUST GONNA CHEW YOU UP—”

WHUMP

“AND SPIT!”

WHUMP

“YOU!”

WHUMP

“OUT!”

WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP

With that, weight manifested on Ness’ shoulder. He felt his hands go slack, felt the wheel slip out of his grasp, and found himself trebucheting off to the side until there was no room for Jesus between his face and the passenger window.

Everything came screeching to an extremely abrupt halt.

Ness was frozen in place, listening to the shuffling sounds of Caliban readjusting himself behind the wheel.

If Ness moved, his heart would explode in his chest with such ferocity that little bits of it would shoot out of his ears. Simple as that.

It was quite miraculous that he didn’t pass out right then and there.

The car started moving again, back to an even rhythm.

It was steered along a round angle, circling around a crumpled heap that now lay in the middle of the road.

That heap was wracked with violent shudders, sides heaving in an agonizing manner as Mad braced his palms against the ground, slowly lifting his head and chest up.

Mad’s skin was patchy with several fresh scrapes (asphalt plus speed equaled human eraser, after all), but his face had gone so pale now.

And yet, as the car crept crawling on by, he turned his head at just the right moment to stare through Ness’ window.

To stare at the same guy he’d been stalking and threatening for the past few months.

One of Mad’s eyes twitched. His hands curled themselves into fists.

Ness edged away from the window, but that didn’t really help.

More weight was suddenly on his chest, pushing his back against the seat. Caliban leaned over the center console, glaring daggers through the window, a unique cocktail of anger and entertainment swirling in his eyes.

“Stay the course, idiot!” Caliban called, his voice still full of energy despite being broken up by gasps for air. “Stop beating around the damn bush! You want him?! Come and get him!”

Ness blinked, and the world was suddenly speeding past again. His eyes warily wandered over to the rearview mirror.

Even with all the fast-growing distance, he could still see the rage in Mad’s eyes.

He could see Mad dragging himself to his feet.

He could see Mad forcing himself into a limping jog; there was no way he’d catch up anytime soon, but the promise of his focus was much, much less than welcome.

He startled badly when raucous, jagged laughter erupted from beside him.

“God, what a rush!” Caliban crowed. “That’s what I call living! 'Doc and Aza would’ve loved that!”

Snare was a bit quicker on the uptake than Ness (but then, Snare had cleary experienced all sorts of stuff that Ness was better off not experiencing, so, the comparison was a little unfair). He sprung off of the waiter’s lap, opting to perch near the driver-seat’s headrest and excitedly nudge at his owner’s neck. Caliban chortled, carefully reaching backward to give the hare’s ears a scratch.

“I…I thought your plan was all about stealth,” Ness coughed. Part of his brain instantly started screaming at him for sassing a cannibalistic hitman, especially after what in the fresh hell he’d just seen him do.

However, the other part of his brain—the one with the filter—was just out of commission at the moment. He wasn’t sure when it’d be up and running again. He could only help that the answer was soon, because he really needed it to be.

“Stealth, and then moving as fast as you possibly can,” Caliban replied with a triumphant smile that might’ve looked uplifting without the dark red tinge smeared over his teeth and around his lips. “In my line of work, things just tend to go like that most of the time.”

By now, Mad was very much out of sight.

In spite of that, even as Caliban turned a corner to continue on a route that was so damn familiar, Ness could still feel that monster’s eyes burrowing into his skin, leaving invisible, half-melted gashes that bubbled near the back of his head.

___

It was so odd: Ness had been working at Sparky’s for years, and only now did he really see just how different the diner looked without the light of the pendant lamps that hung over each table. Yeah, he could still see through the windows, but any nearby businesses were just as shadowy. No artificial glow anywhere.

He’d lost count of all the times he’d been responsible for closing up shop after late-shifts. He’d long-since adjusted to the eerie feeling of being pretty much all alone, having to turn everything off and then drive all the way home in the dark.

…At least, he thought he’d adjusted.

Will I be afraid of the dark after all this? Ness wondered, wringing his hands as he paced behind the coffee-bar. How much will tonight set me back? I can only afford to take so much time off—

“You’ve got good taste in roommates,” Caliban mentioned as he slithered into the main area, leaving the kitchen door to swing to and fro in his wake.

A cluster of icy thorns started spinning like a top in the pit of Ness’ stomach. “Ah…sorry, how do you mean?”

Under normal circumstances, he would’ve taken the compliment with a smile; he and Jack didn’t exactly go way back, so it’d been an amazing stroke of luck for them to have clicked the way they did.

Right now, however, all he could think about was the way he’d seen Caliban speak. The way Caliban intentionally twisted his own words to feed his macabre sense of humor.

Ness never thought he’d have to try and dissect such a mild statement and dread that it was code for something along the lines of Your roommate would taste good.

(Then again, he’d also never thought he’d wind up on the receiving end of an amateur parody of “The Stalker’s Tango,” but here he was.)

“I just mean that you picked a fine one,” Caliban explained. Though he shrugged, the glint in his eyes—as well as how one side of his mouth was curling into a smirk—made it clear that he’d pretty much read the waiter’s mind. “I respect a guy who doesn’t fool around. It takes guts and brains to react so quickly, y’know?”

He paused, drumming his fingers on his bicep in thought. “...Even if they have to rely on guns.”

While a wave of relief spilled through Ness’ lungs (since, logically speaking, it wouldn’t make sense to eat someone you respected, even if you didn’t even really know that person), he still couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

Caliban raised an eyebrow right back. “Hey, c’mon, I get to be biased. All weapons have their merits, but when it comes to knives, you always, always get a chance to swing them around and give yourself some dramatic flair.”

As if to prove his point, he ever-so-slightly pulled back one side of his jacket and reached for an interior pocket a little ways below the collar.

Seconds later, he lashed his hand back out; a glossy wooden handle was now spinning about his fingers, topped by something that gave off a cold, metallic, hungry glint.

Once he decided to hold it steady, the source of said glint turned out to be a meat cleaver, crafted from damascus steel and almost seeming a little too big to fit so perfectly in that pocket.

“Guns, on the other hand, just go ‘bang-bang’ and commit death.” Caliban traced a finger along his deadly toy’s blade before placing a hand on his hip. “That’s it. Makes things end a little too fast for my taste.”

Ness swallowed a lump in his throat, remembering a nature documentary he’d seen just last year that focused on comparing the hunting styles of wild dogs to those of big cats.

Typically, animals like lions or tigers took down prey via a crushing bite to the neck, which meant an instant (although not very painless) death.

Creatures like hyenas or wolves, on the other hand…if you were unfortunate enough to be on their hunting radar, and if they brought you to the ground…well, your life wouldn’t have to end for their meal to begin. The pack pretty much never failed to go for their target’s belly first, biting and clawing until everything inside spilled out.

Paranoid nausea aside, Ness titled his head at this. “Sure, sure. It’s just—I mean, y’know that saying about bringing knives to gun fights…”

(Welp. Even if his filter had woken up earlier, apparently it was only half-functional right now.)

Thankfully, Caliban just rolled his eyes at this. “No—you just need to avoid bringing morons to gun fights.”

Ness’ gaze wandered over to that cut on Caliban’s face. It’d stopped bleeding a while ago, and it definitely wasn’t deep enough to leave a scar like the one above his lip. That didn’t change the fact that it was so bright red and angry-looking. He could only guess how much it stung.

Caliban’s eyes narrowed; either he had legit telepathic power, or Ness really just sucked at being subtle sometimes. “Yeah, yeah. HE doesn’t count, because A. he’s in the Moron Camp, B. he doesn’t even take good care of his tools, and C. he’s in the Moron Camp.”

Ness took a step back, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture.

Caliban clicked his tongue, then crept around the bar’s corner, eyes scanning the little restaurant as he fidgeted with his cleaver.

While Ness was certain Caliban didn’t mind the dark (if anything, he probably thrived in it), he still had to wonder if the cannibal saw it differently as well, since it’d been full of light that evening he’d come in with his friends.

Outside, the air itself decided to pick up the slack in their conversion with a deep, loud chorus that rumbled from above.

A long moment passed before he glanced back at Ness. “…He’ll be here any minute now.”

Ness chewed his lip, nodding slowly. “I know.”

Caliban paused, setting his cleaver down in order to crack his knuckles before snatching it right back up. “The lure’s only gonna work if he thinks he can see you.”

“I—I know,” Ness repeated, shakily rubbing at his arms. He’d taken his cyan jacket off at least five minutes ago, and Sparky’s maintained a pretty warm temperature, even without sunbeams filtering in through the windows.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten such a bad case of goosebumps from something besides a draft.

As if on cue, the rumbling upped the ante in less than a second, transitioning into a booming CRA-A-ACK that got close to shaking the diner’s walls.

Oddly-comedic timing was the only set thing in the universe. Seriously, the way Caliban and Ness both jumped at least a foot in the air almost looked like it’d happened on a choreographer’s orders.

Caliban’s brow furrowed, but concern was quick to wash over his features. With a little more speed in his step than before, he moved over to the right side of the diner, peering through the nearly floor-to-ceiling window that had been installed on the wall. After a moment or two of searching, he let out a little sigh, leaning away from the glass.

“He’ll be fine—he has plenty of shelter, and he’s a tough little guy either way. He’ll be fine…” Caliban eventually muttered under his breath as resumed his pacing.

Though he could tell that the cannibal’s words were directed to himself, Ness still had to empathize a bit.

Apparently, Snare was now keeping watch, hiding somewhere by the outer side of the building. At first, he’d been worried about the hare’s pale pelt giving him away…but then again, Dine and Dash had their fair share of silvery fur, and he’d been a victim of many real-life jumpscares on their parts whenever he took out the trash.

Ness still had no idea what all Snare had been trained to do, but his trivia-obsessed brain helpfully reminded him that hares were much craftier than domestic rabbits.

It gave him a little reassurance, since he’d overheard Caliban instructing his pet about, “If anyone aside from Mr. This-Onsie-Is-My-Second-Skin gets too close, just distract them and lead them away as best you can—and no biting this time, okay? Too risky.”

Sooner or later, Caliban took his position: just across from the booths, hidden in plain sight. There was just enough dim light to see his outline.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Ness asked, keeping his voice down as his wary focus returned to the front windows.

“Eh, for the most part, just sit there and look pretty.” Mischief and mayhem flickered in Caliban’s eyes, though some seriousness was still behind them. “I’d put money on him calling out to you. When he does, don’t respond. The more we egg him on, the less aware he’ll be of his surroundings.”

Ness winced, thinking back to all those awful letters. “And…what about when you—”

“Shhh!” Caliban jolted, then stiffened a second later. Even in the dark, Ness could see the cannibal’s knuckles turn white around the cleaver’s handle.

Several long, painful heartbeats dragged by as the two of them sat in silence.

For a moment, everything seemed far too quiet, even with the sharp, incessant little tap-tap-taps on the roof as the still-rumbling clouds made good on their promise.

But then…

Scrrrpp-scccrrrp

From somewhere outside, a low, shuffling rhythm interjected.

Scccrrrp-sccrrrrp, scrrrrp-sccrrp

The sound of gravel grinding against itself under the weight of a person’s shoes.

Scrrrrrrp-sccrrrpp-sccccrrrrp

Slowly but surely, a familiar silhouette appeared in the parking lot, growing more and more visible with each second.

Ness practically felt the color drain from his face.

Perhaps that could count as him doing Caliban a favor; the cannibal didn’t even need to turn and look for himself. His eyes darted over to meet Ness’ before he simply tilted his head in a small nod.

“Get. Down.” Caliban squared his shoulders, his voice now an octave below a whisper and seeping out through gritted teeth. “Watch the door.”

Ness didn’t need to be told twice. He retreated to the far side of the coffer-bar before dropping onto his knees just before the edge. This gave a decent amount of space between him and the front entrance.

Not even a moment too soon: he peered one eye around the corner and felt his stomach twist.

Mad was now looming just an inch away from the door, visibly panting like a dog and twitching all over.

Though he wasn’t soaked just yet, the rain had dampened him from head-to-toe. He leaned forward, prompting translucent smears to appear on the glass as he pressed his forehead against it.

Thanks to the raindrops, the red stains on his bear-suit almost seemed to be melting; the longer Ness stared, the more his fear-addled imagination took the fabric’s tan coloring and made him think of flesh with chunks dripping and sloughing off with the water.

Bloodshot eyes rolled around in Mad’s head, glancing every which way. By some miracle, they never landed on Ness’ hiding spot.

Ness watched as Mad stepped back and gripped the door’s handle, giving it a harsh tug…only to stop short, his mouth dropping to the ground as the threshold opened right up.

For a few long seconds, Mad stared, looking just as shocked as Ness felt for having unlocked that very door earlier.

(He hadn’t wanted to, of course, but Caliban had insisted. “This’ll throw him off a bit. Delusional as he is, he still knows you don’t want anything to do with him. He knows you’re scared of him, so a gesture like this can make him to lower his guard.”)

Mad shook his head and ground his jaw before trudging inside like he owned the place, leaving the door to hang open behind him. The storm took his invitation to not just do its bawling outside: cold, wet wind swept into the diner in less than a heartbeat.

And, just as Caliban predicted, Mad didn’t keep his silence.

“I knew you’d come back here, Ness.”

Ness winced; the psycho had spat out his name like it was a piece of rancid meat.

Even so, as Mad loomed by the welcome stand, he still didn't look in Ness’ direction.

In fact, the opposite end of the coffee-bar seemed to take up all his focus.

“You think you’re better than me?” Mad demanded, his voice shooting through several octaves. “Have you been enjoying all the crap that’s happened tonight? Do you think it’s funny to make me run and jump like a trained monkey?!”

A violent shiver wracked Ness’ body. He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep any sobs trapped in his chest.

Mad went silent, and the next couple minutes each felt like a Lord of The Rings: Extended Edition.

“You think Crawford is actually trying to help you?” Mad finally continued. He let out a bitter, mirthless laugh. “That’s hilarious. Cute, even!”

There was a brief spark of confusion in the back of Ness’ head at the surname, but clarification came soon enough.

“Don’t you know anything about cannibalism; how that stuff really works?” Mad wondered aloud. “When you squint at it, human flesh is barely any different from drugs. If you manage to eat some and get away with it, it’ll give you a type of high. You know you’re not meant to do it. But since you did…you’ll get hooked. You’ll crave it. You’ll always want MORE.”

Ness rushed to swallow the bile that was rising in his throat. He did know all those Not-So-Fun-Facts, actually. Of course he did—all the horror movies he’d watched ever since his teenage years…to this day, that sort of stuff just made him curious. So, he tended to do his own research, to see how accurate some scenes really were, even if the effects were already believable.

(There was no way he hadn’t ended up on a watchlist by now. Then again, he was just a few feet away from two people who ABSOLUTELY belonged on watchlists, and those people clearly hadn’t been caught just yet…)

“So, in that case, Crawford’s the poster-child for addiction.” Mad paused, chewing at his lip in thought.

“And it’s not just that: he’s about business, too. Him and that mob he runs around with. You have any idea how many people he’s killed—how many people he’s eaten? You really think he’s just gonna let you go after all this? After everything you’ve seen from him? No. No, he’ll just drag you back to that den of his and butcher you. As if you’re nothing but a lamb!”

Mad began pacing in small, tight circles. “He’ll harvest your guts, and you can bet that he’ll make sure you’re still awake while he does it. And whatever he doesn’t eat, he’ll just sell on the Black Market! There’ll be nothing left of you, Ness! NOTHING. LEFT.”

His breathing turned ragged, his jaw clenched. He raised a hand to his face, first to furiously claw at his temple, and then to snarl his gloved fingers in his hair.

“I’m not much better, but at least I’d make it somewhat quick!” Mad tried. “Sure, I’d still cut you open one way or another, but at least I’d just watch how your blood makes a nice, pretty pool on the floor! At least I’d try to give you a semi-proper burial! Doesn’t that sound better than getting crammed into an oven or put on a stove?!”

Mad’s other hand lashed out to his side, letting the tip of his knife sink into the leather cushion of one booth-seat. He dragged the blade along, leaving a jagged trail in the material, letting some of its stuffing leak out and onto the floor.

“…Fine, fine, I’d probably keep a little piece of you as a trophy—but that’s the thing! I’d keep that piece! I’d hide it away in a safe stash! I’d try to keep it clean! I’d actually appreciate all the memories attached to it!”

Something sharp and rotten started searing its way through Ness’ intestines. It was all he could do to not start rocking back and forth. If he did that, then he’d be more likely to get up. To run into the kitchen for cover. To scream.

Mad froze in place again, his mouth opening and closing with no more words coming out. The semi-blissful silence was short-lived, but sometimes you just had to take what you could get.

“…Talk to me,” Mad piped back up, his voice suddenly a whisper. “C’mon—talk…”

He finally took a step forward.

Not toward Ness’ spot, but him moving at all was less than ideal.

“Alright, then,” Mad called, returning to his original volume. “I’ll just have to make you talk!”

He took another step. And another, and another, and another. All drawing him closer and closer to the figure near the end of the coffee-bar.

Once he was in touching range, he lashed out a hand to grab at aforementioned figure’s arm. “I SAID TALK TO ME, DAMN IT, OR ELSE I’M GONNA—!”

Mad cut himself off, words devolving into a guttural yelp as he was shoved back. He staggered against one of the booths, just barely managing to keep his balance as he clutched at the small, bright red nick that was now blooming across his temple.

He sputtered as that figure got up from the coffee-bar, obviously remembering a little too late that Ness never had a scar on the left side of his upper lip.

Cyan was most definitely not Caliban’s color. But right here, right now, it truly seemed to have worked like a charm.

“You’re gonna what, Mad?” Caliban jeered, shifting his cleaver’s handle about his fingers, glancing down at the fresh blood smeared on its blade. “C’mon, now—since you still can’t seem to smell a trap, even with all that so-called experience, the least you can do is finish your sentences!”

Mad’s expression was like a stormcloud.

Finally, finally, Ness moved.

Granted, a swarm of voices in his head were shrieking against the very idea of moving, but he had to, or else the skin of his palms would melt and permanently anchor him to the floor. He shifted in place, slow and careful as he got to his feet.

He didn’t stand to his full height, of course, but he managed to peek over the coffee-bar, getting a prime view as Caliban stalked closer to the stammering, floundering Mad.

Caliban seemed to catch this out of the corner of his eye, because he paused to shoot a sly grin Ness’ way.

“Alright, Ness!” He called, his voice laced with a new burst of horrific excitement. “Go ahead and wait in the kitchen. Mad and I need to have a little chat.”

Still shuddering, Ness made to follow those instructions. You’d better fucking believe he was about to sprint into the kitchen and huddle in one of the corners and wonder where everything went wrong until the sun finally climbed its way into the sky again.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He was suddenly too busy staring at yet another silhouette charging through the rain. Charging toward the diner.

Who in their right mind would come here at a time like this, in a storm like this?!

How had none of them heard the new set of rapid footsteps?!

Why was this maniac wearing the forest-green fleece coat that Mike pretty much…always…

…Mike?

Ness recognized the man who all but burst through the open door, unintentionally slamming it shut. How couldn’t he, considering all the harmless jokes he’d made about basically towering over him?

MIKE.

Right then, a bolt of lightning streaked across the clouds. The flash of light was gone as fast as it’d arrived, but it still lit up a very familiar face adorned by stubble and dark rings just under the eyes, now contorted with panic and self-loathing.

M I K E !

“Ness?!” He shouted, fear sounding so, so wrong compared to the low, bedraggled tone he typically spoke with. He rushed to the coffee-bar, reaching out. “Where have you been?! What’s—?!”

“OH, NO YOU DON’T!” Mad howled as he rocketed off the booth. He tackled Mike to the floor, one hand outstretched to grab at his neck. “I AM DONE WITH YOU, YOU HEAR ME?! DONE!”

And just like that, the world was speeding under Ness’ shoes.

An odd ringing sound manifested in Ness’ ears, growing louder and louder and louder until it managed to drown out his thundering pulse.

He felt a cold mass materialize in his hands—he didn’t even register how he’d ripped the diner’s fire extinguisher out of its mounting bracket on the wall until he slammed it into Mad’s side, eliciting a cry of pain.

By now, Ness finally realized that the ringing in his ears was only being caused by his own voice as he screamed his lungs raw.

Ness hauled back and hit Mad again, in the exact same spot. This time, Mad was knocked off his balance.

Away from Mike.

“COME ON!” With that, Ness tossed the extinguisher away, taking Mike’s wrist in a vice-like grip. “RUN, RUN!”

To his credit, Mike didn’t make Ness drag him along. He was on his boyfriend’s heels in an instant, keeping more than enough pace as the two of them erupted into the kitchen.

Ness didn’t stop, zeroing in on the old supply closet that waited patiently in the corner. Adrenaline-induced aches already flaring in his jaw, he sprinted over, practically tossing Mike inside before ducking past the threshold himself.

It was pure dumb luck that Mad didn’t rip the kitchen door right off its hinges; he entered just in time to see the closet slamming shut.

With another unintelligible, infuriated shout, Mad began to lunge across the kitchen…only to nearly lose his footing as a hand wrapped around the collar of his bear-suit. He was yanked to the side, left to ricochet against a stainless steel countertop that ran the length of the walls.

Caliban raced ahead of him, skidding to a halt before the closet.

A loud, hollow click rang throughout the kitchen as he turned the lock on its doorknob.

“Y’know, even if I’m not all that hungry right now…” Caliban mentioned, his grin growing wider and wider, showcasing the way his silver tooth glinted like a scythe. “…I still need a pound of flesh.”

He outstretched an arm, aiming the blade of his cleaver at Mad.

Mad sneered, tightening his grip around his own weapon. “Come and get it, then.”

___

The supply closet was even darker than the dining area. Much more cramped and stuffy, too.

Even so, it was far, FAR better than staying out there for another second.

(Especially considering the muffled shouts and crashing that sounded from somewhere on the other side…)

Ness’ grip finally went slack, and the air seemed to cave in on itself as he felt Mike tear his wrist away.

“Ness—” Despite how ragged and breathless Mike’s voice had become, despite the whirlwind in his bulging eyes, the declaration was still piercing.

Ness couldn’t help but flinch, instinctively shuffling into one corner of the closet and subsequently knocking his elbow against one of the metal shelves, which triggered a small avalanche of cleaning products to scatter all over the floor.

(Then again, as thankful as part of him was to see Mike again, being locked in a small space with a panicked and confused boyfriend wasn’t exactly a peach, either.)

Mike ignored all the containers rolling around his shoes in favor of planting himself right in front of the waiter. “Ness, you have to tell me what the hell is going on right now, or I swear to God—!”

“I hardly know myself!” Ness snapped, his voice getting dangerously close to just breaking on the spot.

“I’m just as lost as you are—actually, no! I’m WAY MORE lost than you are! My LIFE has depended on just making things up as I go for the past few hours! You might have gotten turned around at the average IKEA, but I’M spinning around in the center of The Bermuda Triangle!”

The next ten-or-so seconds took their sweet damn time to pass the couple by.

Mike stared at Ness. Had the lighting been better, he would’ve been a near-perfect mimic of the Surprised Piakchu Meme.

Still, that stubborn, determined, bordering-on-idiocy nature that Ness had fallen for once upon a time came back for Round 2. “…I’m gonna need a little mORE TO WORK WITH THAN THAT!”

“OH, OF COURSE YOU WOULD!” Ness fired back.

___

Strong as the metallic aroma of blood was, Caliban didn’t have time to appreciate it right now.

Pain seared through his tendons as Mad's knife bit into his arm, but it wasn’t like he was a stranger to getting stabbed.

Before Mad could pull back to try and slash again, Caliban grabbed his wrist, twisting it viciously as he forced his opponent’s arm to stretch at a bad angle.

Mad roared and backed away, trying to tug his arm out of the cannibal’s grasp. His wish ended up being granted: Caliban indeed released him…right as he delivered a swift, brutal kick to one of his kneecaps, that is.

Mad collided with the edge of the coffee-bar. Though he faltered, he sure as hell didn’t slow down.

Just as Caliban pounced, Mad met him halfway.

Or, more accurately, his free hand curled into a fist and met one of Caliban’s eyes halfway.

Having half of his vision go blurry for a few seconds was no picnic, but it still gave Caliban even more motivation to return the favor.

Though you could technically say that his aim was a bit off, there was no doubt just how satisfying it was to hear a wet, pulpy CRUNCH when his knuckles connected to Mad’s nose…

___

“We weren’t alone in the woods earlier,” Ness finally choked out, his eyes feeling like they were slowly filling up with acid. “Someone else was there with us. And a little while after the argument—after I stormed off, they…they just found me. And…took me.”

Although fear had a stronghold on Mike’s features, anger soon made a decent contender.

“…Who?!” He demanded, his voice going low. “Did you see their face? Do you know where they are now?” He spun around and wrapped his hands around the doorknob, tugging it to and fro. When it refused to budge any more than a few centimeters, he tried slamming his shoulder against the door itself.

“Mike—Mike, STOP!” Ness grabbed hold of Mike’s hood and pulled him back, squeezing around to plant himself between his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s new, inanimate nemesis. “I—I can’t tell you, alright?! And if I can’t do that, then I can’t let you see what’s going on, either!”

“What the hell do you mean?!” Mike contended, spreading his arms in a furious lame-gesture. “We can’t just stay here! We need to run! We need to go to the cops—”

“NO.” Ness’ eyes truly felt like they might pop right out of his head. “Cops are the last people we need getting involved!”

Mike gaped at him again for a long, agonizing moment.

“Let me get this straight…” He growled (and if not for the situation at hand, Ness would’ve reminded him that anything straight was an impossibility for both of them). “Some maniac came along and kidnapped you a few hours ago, and you think you just don’t have to tell me about it?!”

Mike took a few steps closer, and, due to the closet’s size, closed the gap between them almost immediately. “You’re always talking about being in this together! So how can you possibly think that keeping something so goddamn horrible from me is just gonna work out?!”

One hand reached out to grab Ness’ shoulder.

“How the hell do you think that makes me feel right now, Ness?! I trust you! I care about you! Doesn’t that mea—”

“Right, right,” Ness interjected, shrugging Mike’s hand away with a little more force than strictly necessary. “You care about me so damn much. Enough that you confused some random child-murderer for me!”

He gasped for air, his throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. “How do you think that makes me feel?!”

Silence.

A veritable tidal wave of emotion swept across Mike’s face: more fear, shock, dread, pain…and much, much more…

“Y-Yeah, that’s—that’s what I thought.” Ness bit back his tears and folded his arms across his chest, turning his head to fix the darkened corner with a sopping-wet glare.

“I…I know you have lots of sleep-issues, and me looking so similar to that monster doesn’t help…” Ness heaved a guttural sigh, raising a hand to knead at his temple. “But…God’s sake, Mike! I run off wearing what I’ve got on now, and when you think you find me, I’m just SUDDENLY IN A BEAR-SUIT? HUH?!”

Mike ever-so-slightly shrunk at that.

More quiet dragged its feet along before he eventually muttered, “…I mean, there was that one time you and Abby just had to have those onesies we saw at Walmart—”

“I thought I told you to NEVER bring up The January Onesie Incident EVER AGAIN,” Ness seethed.

___

“You really think that little silver-piece is so impressive?!” Mad snarled, pressing a hand to his bicep, over the patch of torn fabric and his now-exposed skin. Little beads of blood leaked out between his fingers.

“If things go my way, I’m gonna rip out all the rest of your teeth! EVERY! SINGLE! GODDAMN ONE! I’m gonna make Orin Scrivello look like a fish out of water!”

Caliban paused, thinking back through all the movies he’d seen in the past.

“. . .Oh, yeah. Orin Scrivello,” he hissed. His tongue darted out to lick at the red stain on the corner of his lips before skating over the teeth in question. “Remind me EXACTLY what happened to him, again?!”

Instead of doing that, Mad lunged at Caliban again, stomping on his foot to try and hold him in place as he shoved him onto one of the tables

Caliban screamed with rage, leveling his knee into the other killer’s chest, as well as hauling back and decking him in the throat. Just for good measure.

In fact, Caliban decided that he could go for even better measure via raising a leg and sending the sole of his shoe right into Mad’s stomach.

Mad crumpled onto the floor, coughing and retching. Too bad the sudden wave of nausea wasn’t enough to stop him from grabbing Caliban’ ankle as he tried to rush past.

Thrown off-balance, the cannibal went sprawling down. Dull pain thrummed through his skull as his chin met the hard tiles; it really almost felt like he’d been stabbed there.

Get up! A voice in his head commanded. Get up, get up, GET UP! Keep moving!

He braced his palms against the floor, lifting his chest up and—

He jolted in place.

His palms…

They were both empty when they rEALLY FUCKING SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN…

HIS CLEAVER! WAS GONE!

Clenching his jaw, Caliban swiveled his head at breakneck speed—THERE!

That blood-spattered, wonderful, damascus steel trophy he’d earned so long ago had landed just a few feet away!

Still on his knees, Caliban scrambled closer, one hand reaching out to take it back. Almost there, almo—!

A filthy boot came down on his hand, brutally pinning it to the floor, Mad’s weight piled on top of it.

Pop went something in Caliban’s wrist; somehow, it seemed louder than the agonized howl that rushed out of his lungs.

Everything lifted away soon enough, but the pain remained, determined to set fire to each and every nerve that was wrapped around his phalanges, one by one.

Mad’s laughter seeped into the air like clouds of smoke, somehow even more grating than before. “You really thought you could keep hurting me with this butter knife?”

A while before all this happened, Caliban was sure that Mad’s face couldn’t get any more punchable. But now, as he lifted his head to watch a coy smirk spread across the other killer’s features, to watch that other killer’s DISGUSTING MITTS fiddle around with HIS CLEAVER…

Well, Caliban was a big enough man to admit when he’d been wrong (not always out loud, though). Something in his ribcage came to a rolling boil. He felt everything begin to shake.

Glancing to the side, he noticed that a wooden broom had been left propped up against one of the booths.

He reached out, ignoring the last dregs of pain as he wrapped his hand around the base to steady himself.

Mad was watching him, but he didn’t seem to care. He was still too wrapped up in gloating over his small victory. He clinked his own knife against the cleaver in a very cheap imitation of sharpening it.

“Oh, look at me! I’m Caliban Crawford! I think I’m so goddamn clever and tough, even though I let myself care about STUPID, WORTHLESS THINGS—”

The attempt at IRL Vicious Mockery was cut short as Caliban raised the broom up and snapped it over his knee. He threw the broom’s head over his shoulder, pointing the jagged, splintery end at Mad before charging like a rabid bull.

“O-oh shit, oh sHIT, OH FUAAAAAAAUUUGH!” Mad shrieked like the average victim of a cassowary-attack as the broken broom plunged into that tender spot just below his shoulder.

Caliban, not to be outdone, let out a horrific scream of his own. Using the broom’s handle for leverage, he forcibly swung his opponent around, subconsciously releasing his hold to throw him across the room.

Still wailing, Mad hit one of the side-windows with a deafening THUMP.

Though the glass somehow didn’t shatter, the psycho’s back still caused a rather large spiderweb-crack to etch its way out from the corner.

This time, Mad finally stayed down. He certainly didn’t look happy about that, but the fact that the broken broom was still lodged in his shoulder was kinda-sorta hard to ignore.

His breathing heavy and jagged, Caliban moved quickly, scanning the floor, desperation reignited. Soon enough, he found where his cleaver had landed—fittingly enough, it was also on top of Mad’s knife, which Caliban swiftly kicked out of sight as he plucked his weapon back up.

He examined it carefully, worried about just how much damage it’d taken. Luckily for him, there only seemed to be a couple new nicks in the blade; nothing the tools he had back at home couldn’t fix.

Hell, even with all the fresh blood that was dripping from it, he could still see his reflection in all those pretty, wavy streaks set in the metal.

Caliban smiled to himself, using one section of his black hoodie to wipe his weapon clean before returning it to its place in his pocket. He already knew he wouldn’t have to use it again (not right this second, at least). Mad was still sputtering, still shaking, still unable to pick himself up.

Speaking of which…

“I’m gonna recap,” Caliban announced, turning on his heel.

“Not only do you just fuck around for free…” He stalked back over to the other killer, soon looming above him. “…but you decide to try and encroach on my family's turf. And then, sometime after we throw you back to wherever you came from—”

Caliban gripped the end of the broom handle. “You have the GALL to crawl back and try to whine about needing us to clean up the messes you keep making. And THEN, after we hand your sorry ass to you for the second time…”

The sadism in his heart glowed as he pushed the broom, forcing it to sink even deeper into Mad’s flesh. Slowly. Agonizingly.

Mad cried out in despair. He had no more energy left to fight, so all he could do was shudder.

“…You decide to just start taking your little bitch-fits out on KIDS,” Caliban concluded, almost able to feel the fluids in his eyes churning as he glared at the other killer.

However, as much as Caliban wanted to see even more blood come rushing out, to form a small lake around Mad as he got all pale and stiff, he couldn’t kill him. That would’ve just been too good for him.

Instead, he shook his head dismissively. “You’ll never have a true career, Mad. You’ll never deserve any kind of reputation. You’re just too sloppy.”

Caliban readjusted his grip…

“Too entitled.”

…and…

“Too pathetic.”

…PULLED.

More screams.

More refreshing, delicious (even oddly musical) screams.

___

“Why can’t you tell me?” Mike tried for what legitimately had to be the thousandth time in the span of minutes.

“I just can’t,” Ness answered helplessly. His energy seemed to be draining bit by bit as time went on.

Was he crying? He couldn't feel any tears, but his eyes were so damn sore that he had to force himself not to keep scrubbing at them. After everything he’d gone through to get to this point, an infection or a stye might've really been the straw to break the camel’s back, and Ness did not want to test that theory.

Mike seemed to have grown a little wearier, too. His voice had tapered down some, and his attempts at Door Violence had transitioned into simply kneading at his temples. Ness would’ve liked to think that he’d contributed to the relative calm, but one part of his brain just chattered on about the first stages of Stockholm Syndrome.

Still, he knew Mike was too stubborn to stop prodding. If Mike kept prodding, then he risked finding out the secrets Ness had sworn to help keep. And if that happened…

“Fine. You really want an explanation?”

Icy claws dripping down his spine, Ness clenched his jaw and gazed directly into Mike’s eyes. “I’ll tell you everything that’s been going on tonight…but only if you tell me why you get so cagey whenever I bring up Freddy Fazbear’s.”

Mike’s face fell even more than it already had as he froze in place. It truly looked as though he might never move again.

“What—what the hell has that got to do with anything?” He stammered.

“You tell me,” Ness demanded, folding his arms across his chest. “Abby seems to love talking about those old animatronics, but it always seems like something inside you dies whenever she does.”

He paused, glancing away. “And…and whenever I bring up my theories on the place, you instantly shut me down and lecture me about how it’s ‘just not worth it’ without ever really clarifying what you mean by that.”

Mike went quiet again; hell, he even seemed to be holding his breath. Sooner or later, his eyes simply dropped to the floor as his shook his head, slow and solemn.

“Exactly.” Ness tilted his head to the side. “You obviously know way more about that than you ever let on. But you never even consider telling me about it. Because you think that’ll keep me out of danger.”

Mike’s eyes remained fixated on the ground.

Though Ness felt some of his muscles relax, the tightness in his chest was far more determined. It felt awful, having to use something that was so clearly NOT ‘just fine, don’t worry about it’ against his boyfriend like this.

But he just had to. For both their sakes.

Without thinking, Ness he reached out and pulled Mike against his chest.

“If you get to keep secrets to try and keep me safe…” He let out a small sigh as he rested his chin on Mike’s shoulder. “…then it’s only fair that I get to do the same. We really need to just leave it at that. Trust me.”

Mike still didn’t answer. But, sooner or later, Ness felt his arms snake around his waist in return.

That was good, since Ness’ arms wouldn’t free him, and right now, Ness’ heart just wasn’t in the mood to even try.

…At least, not until the lock announced itself with another loud click before the door swung open. Mike jolted in place, but just before he could even turn his head, a pair of hands was suddenly grasping at his neck and shoulders.

Then, Mike’s eyes began to flutter as he swayed to and fro for an awkward few seconds before plummeting onto the floor like a slow avalanche.

Caliban stood behind him, watching and casually spinning that same syringe (from what felt like months ago ) between his fingers.

For the record, Ness only stood frozen and gaping for about half a minute. “…WHY?!”

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again: no-one you know can see me. Not while I’m working, at least,” Caliban replied with a shrug. He then rolled his eyes and flicked the base of the syringe.

“Relax. There’s just a few different painkillers mixed together in here. Y’know, stuff to help you sleep. Aza showed me how it works during a past job. I only gave him a tiny dose, so he should wake up in about half an hour.”

Ha. Sleeping stuff, murmured a sardonic little voice in the back of Ness’ head. How appropriate, right?

Still, it seemed Caliban was telling the truth: Mike wasn’t writhing, wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t disloving into a puddle of gore.

He was just asleep, pretty much the same way he’d been a little while ago.

Before Ness knew it, Caliban’s hand was around his wrist again, pulling him ago. This time, however, the grip wasn’t so tight. Fingernails weren’t digging into his skin. The cannibal wasn’t sprinting or furiously murmuring to himself.

In fact, Caliban even seemed to have a new spring in his step.

Quite the unconventional spring, too: as Ness kept staring, he saw how Caliban was now sporting a dark bruise around one eye, as well as several fresh, angry lacerations littered about his arms. His formerly well-kempt hair was now so disheveled, almost like that of a doll that clumsy children couldn’t stop fighting over.

How could he be so happy like this?

“Come look what I’ve caught,” Caliban said, chuckling as he led Ness through the kitchen door.

The two of them passed the edge of the coffee-bar to find a heap of Mad lying near the cracked window.

Still breathing…still squirming…but now in obvious, incredible pain.

For all the thrashing Caliban had received for his troubles, Mad seemed to have gotten twice as much, with a little interest sprinkled on top. His formerly fair complexion was a mess, both of his eyes slowly swelling, blood trickling from his nose as well as one corner of his mouth.

The very worst by far was his shoulder: a gaping wound marred the flesh where it met the beginning of his underarm. Dark red was still oozing out like a wine stain—not fast enough to kill him, but slow enough to maybe make him wish that it already had.

As the duo came to a halt before him, Ness realized that he couldn’t see Mad’s bear-suit anymore. Instead, the psycho had been wrapped almost up to his neck in some kind of black, stretching material.

A body-bag, his mind whispered. Somehow, another part of his brain still compared the sight to that of a swaddled baby.

“G-Get away from me,” Mad spat through clenched teeth, watery eyes glowering up at Ness. “This doesn’t prove anything! You’re not better! You won’t STAY better! You STILL don’t DESERVE what you’ve—!”

Just like that, Ness was suddenly on his knees. His hand flew back, only to come crashing against Mad’s bruised, bloody face with an almost whip-esque cRAck!

He then grabbed at Mad’s neck, throttling and punching for all he was worth. Caliban, meanwhile, propped an elbow against the coffee-bar, snickering as he watched.

Eventually, when Ness finally decided he’d had enough and got back to his feet, he realized that he wasn’t shaking anymore.

That he’d finally stopped shaking for the first time all damn night.

“There!” Ness seethed. “Now at least one of us has gotten what he fucking deserves!”

Mad hacked and choked, more bloody, frothy phlegm dribbling past his lips. Tears leaked from his eyes, clearly not out of emotion, but it was still nice to see him cry for a change.

“...Blood loss?” Mad sputtered, curling in on himself. Despite all his agony, his face still twisted into a sick, demented smile. “No, I know exactly where it is.”

Caliban suddenly threw his head back and barked a laugh, which lengthened into a fit of unhinged giggles as he waltzed around to loom over Mad’s other side. “Ah, what the hell—fine, I’ll let you go. That was a good one!”

Ness’ face fell with the same speed and vibes as the way Mad’s eyes brightened: complete and utter bamboozlement.

“Wait, really?!�� Mad cried.

“Nope!” Caliban answered, still chuckling as he unceremoniously jabbed the syringe’s needle into a specific spot on Mad’s neck, pushing the plunger down so hard that it could’ve caved in on itself with just a few more seconds.

Once the syringe was empty, he stuffed it into one of his interior pockets before fishing yet another thing out.

A bundle of burlap fabric decorated with strips of duct-tape.

That very same mask Ness had been forced to wear hours ago.

Mad still tried to glare at Ness, still tried to send hate and venom burrowing into him even as his eyelids drooped and his body went still.

But as Caliban pulled that sack-mask over the psycho’s head, Ness didn’t feel any fear.

(Not that he felt particularly happy, but it was still a welcome change, since he’d had quite enough fear for tonight. If anything, he was just tired as all hell by now.)

Caliban aimed a toothy grin Ness' way, reaching out to give him a solid pat on the shoulder. Then, he grabbed the outline of Mad’s ankles and dragged the Bag o’ Psycho through the diner, into the kitchen, and finally, out the back door.

Ness numbly followed along, watching as the cannibal popped his car’s trunk. Even with all the force he used to toss Mad inside, the other killer didn’t so much as stir. He really was out like a damn light.

Ness wondered just how long Mad would be unconscious, although part of him obviously hoped it would be for the rest of the next day and then some.

He was no expert on sleeping drugs, but that dose had been much, much higher than the one Mike had been given…

Mike, his heart whimpered.

Caliban slammed the trunk shut and locked it, then turned around and whistled. After a second or two, Snare came bounding up, leaping at just the right time and distance for his owner to catch him and cuddle him to his face.

“So…” Ness coughed. “Are—are we done here? Is that it?”

“Yep,” Caliban replied, popping his lips on the p, nodding with a smile. “That’s it.”

He then reached out and gave Ness a friendly dig in the arm. “Hey, c’mon. Get some of the catharsis. It’s good for you!”

Caliban strolled back into the Sparky’s, soon finding himself back at the main dining area. He’d already been enough of a gem to clean up the mess he and Mad had made the best he could—the bloody, broken broomstick now had real estate in his trunk, along with Mad.

After doing one last sweep of the place, making sure there was no biological evidence left behind, he let out a triumphant sigh and headed back into the kitchen…only to stop short upon seeing Ness wander back into that supply closet.

Curious, Caliban took a step closer, watching how his former-target-turned-unlikely-ally was now sitting down beside the man who’d tried to jump into the action earlier. Moving slowly, Ness wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, being gentle as he pulled him closer until he lay against his chest.

From there, Ness leaned against the closet’s inner wall and closed his eyes. Not to sleep, clearly. Just as an attempt to start processing the night now that he could finally afford to hold still.

Good luck with that to ya, said something in Caliban’s head. Even with his sarcasm, he still found himself tilting his head, a different kind of smile growing on his face. It was smaller than his typical grins, and somehow even more unreadable. But that was just fine.

Glancing back, Caliban saw Ness’ cyan leather jacket, still in a crumpled heap where he’d left it just before the fight. Chewing his lip, he walked over, picked it up, then carried it to the closet, where he laid it over both Ness and the unconscious stranger beside him. Ness didn’t open his eyes.

Snare suddenly squirmed in his hold, hopping down and scurrying into the closet. There, he rose up onto his hind legs, braced his paws against Ness’ shoulder, and pushed his little Y-shaped nose against Ness’ cheek.

Ness’ eyes remained closed, but a little more stress seemed to up and vanish from his features.

Once Snare returned to his arms, Caliban rolled his shoulders and turned away, tugging the back door shut behind him. He made his way over to the car, letting Snare climb over to curl up on the passenger seat before he got in and put his key in the ignition.

Back inside the diner, Ness barely even heard the sound of an engine rumbling to life, of tires peeling out into the shadows much too fast.

He didn’t even notice how the rain was finally letting up after all this time, all the incessant tapping on the roof fading away.

For God knows how long, the only thing he heard was his own pulse, as well as Mike’s deep, steady breathing.

…At least, until the little bell suspended above the front door broke the silence.

But then, that wasn’t the thing to really catch his attention, even if part of his schedule-adjusted brain insisted on that.

No, that honor went to two sets of familiar voices calling out.

The first seemed to be the same age as he was, masculine, dripping with adrenaline and concern: “Hello?! Is anyone here?”

And the second…very young, feminine, and sweet (even if the last bit was hidden by clear anxiety): “Ness? Mike? Where are you?!”

___

(The ball's in your court, @insane4fandoms ! Help me make the upcoming epilogue a happy one! ❤️)

___

@sammys-magical-au @lexusinsannus @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0 @yourannoyinglittlesistersteph @lampsforsocks @yourlocalsonia2

HEY HEY HEY IM HERE IM HERR WITH THE NEXT PART @wouldntyou-liketoknow I GOT IT

Jack is a good roommate and babysitter, I say as he takes Abby to shoot a killer in the head (like I said, good babysitter lmao). Abby feels regret for being threatened and not being able to help her brother, but like Jack said, she’s only ten. Finally, Mike connected the dots and out he goes to save his family. @crazy-obsessed-enby @iswmperson @lexusinsannus

(Don’t worry, I’m not going to expose Caliban, that’s why his headlights are off) Meanwhile, Madpat got exposed (by a taxi)

Madpat proceeded to lose it even more and ran away again, there’s a hole in Jack’s car, Mike is filled with adrenaline and big brother instincts, and Ness and Caliban are silently driving in the darkness.

Shit will go down and I will await for your snippet, hope this doesn’t change what you had in mind 😭

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 2 months ago

Text

How the plot thickens, and so the shenaniganry ensues. . .

Both Caliban and Ness have some ‘splaining to do: the former has a quick chat with a very special guest character about his new plans, and the latter reveals what it’s like to be stalked by a certain wacko in a bear-suit.

(It’s honestly kinda funny how this snippet took about the same amount of time to write as the first one. Lol, I just keep on surprising myself.)

As always, I hope you enjoy!

___

Terminal Case of the Ol’ Switcheroo [Part 2]

(Disclaimer: only two of the characters in this snippet belong to me. For more information about my EgoPat Caliban, go here. And if you’d like to learn about my StephEgo R.D., go here.)

(One more thing: I’ve actually written a full character analysis on the dynamic between Mad and Caliban. If you’re interested, please feel free to check it out here.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, knives/blades, implied kidnapping, implied violence, talk of murder/death, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of illegal business, implied stalking/threatening, mentions of snakes, mentions of spiders, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Epilogue

___

The bindings slipped away, barely making a sound as they hit the concrete floor.

Despite his newfound energy, the captive’s legs—scratch that, the captive’s everything was very shaky as he stood up from the chair.

That shakiness only worsened when Caliban stooped down and grabbed that same burlap sack he’d used hours ago. Parts of it shone in the light, courtesy of the strips of duct-tape that formed a frowny-face with Xs for eyes.

“Hey, HEY!” Mr. Waiter—uh, Ness, if memory from that one after-hit-job-rest-stop from months ago served—yelped as the bag was tugged over his head, once again shrouding his environment in darkness. “This isn’t—!”

Caliban interjected, wrapping a firm hand around the other man’s wrist.

“What the hell did I just say?!” Caliban hissed, his voice dark and searing. “If you want this to work, then you’re following. My. LEAD.”

Ness dipped his head, probably to both nod and ever-so-slightly curl in on himself. “O-okay, okay! I’m sorry, I get it!”

Caliban clicked his tongue. “I’m gonna have to pull all kinds of strings now. So yeah, you’d damn-well BETTER get it.”

“I do!” Ness insisted.

“That thing stays on until I decide we’re far enough away from here,” Caliban continued.

He kept his grip on Ness’ arm, pulling him along as he crossed his den. He couldn’t go through the abandoned tunnels.

He couldn’t use any of his peer’s subway-office-turned-underground-hidey-holes right now.

He had to get on the road, and fast. And if that was going to happen, then it meant he’d have to bring his former (technically?) captive into his house.

Caliban grit his teeth as he ascended the old concrete staircase, Snare right on his heels and Ness somehow only tripping twice.

It won’t take very long, a voice in Caliban’s head assured. You just need to get some supplies together, get in the car, and then you’re off to the next phase! Easy-peasy lemon-fucking-squeezy!

Regretting the word choice of that last thought, Caliban all but ripped open the wallpaper-camouflaged door in the corner of his closet, elbowing it shut and locking it with the special key that lived permanently rent-free in his breast pocket.

“Oh my God!” A very familiar voice suddenly gasped from the center of his bedroom, only to offer a breathless laugh a few seconds later. “Cal, you startled me!”

Caliban froze in the closet’s hollow doorframe, staring at a beautiful woman who had way, waaaaaay more than enough brains and strength to make a name for herself in the world of underground experimentation.

The same amazing genius who, by some miracle, had decided to be with him, of all people.

“R.D.!” Caliban replied, shifting in place as he pushed Ness into the corner of the closet and out of sight, keeping a hold on his wrist. “You. . .you’re home early!”

Under normal circumstances, this would’ve made Caliban very happy. (Mind you, he was still happy right now—it was just impossible for him to not be happy when R.D. was around.)

Unfortunately, the fact that he was currently trying to drag a stranger out of his den and through their home…

Damn it.

Damn the UNIVERSE and its STUPID TIMING!

She was dressed in a lovely dark green blouse adorned by flowing streaks of black that almost resembled a pour-painting canvas. Still, Caliban knew her well enough to know that she’d just barely changed out of all the protective gear she typically wore at the hidden-in-plain-sight-laboratory of a warehouse on the other side of the city.

R.D. shrugged. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to come back until much later. But it turns out some of the chemical samples we planned to use are contaminated. So, the team and I need to get a new batch, and you know how long that can take.”

“Don’t I ever,” Caliban replied with a small laugh that definitely sounded shakier than he would’ve liked.

Ness did keep relatively quiet, but he was still trying to squirm in the corner, obviously confused and scared; survival instinct was so convenient like that.

The smile faded from R.D.’s features as she tilted her head at her husband. “. . .Hey, is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine!” Caliban insisted. “Why, don’t I look fine?”

R.D. raised an eyebrow. “You look like someone just shot you with a paintball gun and forced a ghost pepper down your throat at the same time.”

Caliban pursed his lips. “Well, that seems a bit harsh.”

“What are you hiding, Cal?” R.D. asked.

“Nothing!” Caliban answered. “I’m not hiding anything!”

“Oh, really?” R.D. folded her arms across her chest and took a single step closer. “Come on out here, then.”

“Ah–no thanks,” Caliban coughed. “I’m good where I am.”

“Why?” R.D. pressed.

Caliban, for the life of him, couldn’t come up with anything for that.

And before he knew it, R.D. was walking up to him and squeezing through the gap of space between him and the closet doorway and looking at the trembling stranger in the corner and...and...and...

Yeah, he really should’ve known better.

R.D. slowly turned her head to lock eyes with him. Then she was a blur of movement, making sure the window’s blinds were all closed and the bedroom door was shut. After that, she marched right up to him again.

The words rushed out of his mouth like a river: “...OkaylookIcanexplain!”

“I sure damn hope you can!” R.D. announced in a low, hurried voice. “Caliban. What the hell are you doing?!”

Caliban’s mouth opened and closed a few times with no words coming out. His eyes darted around the room. After a few seconds, he held up a hand, turning to the shaking man beside him.

He released Ness’ wrist, then put a firm hand on his head and pushed him down. “Just—just sit, alright?”

Ness (bless his heart) moved quickly, his back sliding against the wall until he was hugging his knees on the floor. Snare took this as the green light to scamper over and flop against him.

Caliban nodded, then turned back to address his wife. “Listen—”

“You can’t just bring your targets up here!” R.D. proclaimed. “You’ve never done that before, so what made you decide to start today?!”

“He isn’t a target!” Caliban argued. “I was after someone else, but I ended up getting him by accident!”

R.D. froze for a few seconds before shaking her head. “. . .That doesn’t make things any better! If he’s not a target, then he’ll just have even more reason to report you now! He’s already seen what you have down there! What if he gets out the door and down the street before you can re-catch him?!”

“That’s not gonna happen!” Caliban insisted.

“How do you know that?!” R.D. demanded.

“We made a deal! He and I had a discussion, okay?! We have an understanding now!”

Caliban paused, then glanced at Ness, who hadn’t budged an inch from his spot on the floor.

“Don’t we?” He called, intentionally making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Ness nodded, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Y-yes! Yes, we do! I swear!”

Though she'd visibly calmed down, R.D. still only looked semi-convinced. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing right now!”

“It’s. . .it’s just a change of plans,” Caliban insisted, gesturing in Ness’ direction. “He has some kind of connection to the idiot I mistook him for! So now he’s gonna lead me to him before things go even more downhill than they already have!”

R.D. blinked at this, her eyes slowly but surely transitioning from stressed to contemplative.

She pursed her lips and began pacing in a small circle. To and fro, to and fro, either massaging her temples or fidgeting with the dutch side-braid she often tied her long, silky brown hair into. After a moment, she halted in place and looked at Caliban again.

“. . .Where exactly are you going?” She asked.

“At least a few towns over,” Caliban responded after a few seconds of hesitation.

A voice in his head reminded him that she knew what his work was like. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d had to leave home to get a job done, whether heading to a different state or even a different country. Hell, she had to travel just as often as he did—if not more so—whether to snatch a test subject or gather supplies for her experiments.

R.D. nodded. “And how long do you think this’ll take?”

“I’m. . .not sure,” Caliban admitted. Most jobs could just be handled in a day or two, tops. But some could end up taking weeks, or even months, depending on how the cards were dealt. “But I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

R.D. shifted were she stood, glancing back and forth between her husband and the closet, where she knew some stranger was probably questioning his life choices right about now.

“Rhea. . .” Caliban walked closer to her. He chewed his lip for a long few seconds.

His voice tapered down to a whisper as he continued, “. . .there’s a kid involved with this.”

A tidal wave of emotion rippled across R.D.’s features. Much like him, her career involved plenty of things that wouldn’t guarantee anyone a spot in heaven.

And yet, she could still be compassionate when she needed to. It was one of many things that he loved her for.

Horror crept into her warm chestnut eyes as she echoed, “A kid. . ?”

Caliban felt his heart drop as he nodded. “I’m sorry I had to just spring all this on you; that wasn’t fair.”

He then gently took one of her hands in his. “I’ll try to explain it more thoroughly later, but I need to get moving right now.”

R.D. stared at him for another long, tense second before sighing leaning against him, wrapping an arm around his torso. He did the same. The two of them stayed like that for a bit; just in case it was the last hug they’d have for the next few days.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” R.D. said as she pulled away, nodding first to the closet, and then to the bedroom door. “You go get your stuff together.”

Caliban’s eyes brightened in time with the smile that spread over his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

R.D. huffed a laugh. “No, you don’t.”

And with that, the cannibal raced through the door, heading down the hall to gather up whatever he might need for an impromptu roadtrip. Food, water, a first aid kit, a few spare body bags, way more knives than strictly necessary. . .

The next few minutes were extremely awkward; even with the explanation she’d been given, R.D. still didn’t know who the masked stranger huddled in the corner of her and Caliban’s closet was.

Even so, it didn’t take long for her to see that he wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

Snare seemed to like him, which was a good sign. . .usually.

“Thank you.” Ness broke the silence in a small, wavering voice. “For understanding.”

R.D. shrugged (though she wasn't really sure why, since it wasn’t like he could see her through the burlap-sack-mask). “It’s nothing.”

“N-no, it’s really not,” Ness argued. “If I wasn’t on the verge of an anxiety-attack right now, I’d probably try to hug you.”

A small smile graced R.D.’s lips. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Caliban’s voice echoed from elsewhere in the house. “Hey, R.D.?”

“What?” R.D. called back, stepping closer to the bedroom door.

“Where’s my electric bone-saw?”

R.D. blinked, pursing her lips. “. . .What?”

“Where. Is my. ELECTRIC BONE-SAW?” Caliban repeated, raising his voice a bit.

“I, uh. . .put it away.”

“Where?!”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I need it!”

“No, you don’t!” R.D. insisted, rolling her eyes. “You already have more than enough weapons; I know how many you have in that duffel bag!”

“I need to be as prepared as possible!” Caliban protested.

“You’re always prepared! Your favorite cleaver is always in your pocket—you take it everywhere you go!”

“You tell me where my electric bone-saw is! We’re talking about a SPECIAL job!”

“‘SPECIAL?’” R.D. echoed, unable to help but put her hands on her hips. “I am your WIFE! I am the most special thing you’re EVER gonna get!”

There was no response to that last comment. R.D. smirked at the thought of Caliban’s expression. Shuffling from the closet caught her attention once again. She chewed her lip, then quietly walked over, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s not a stretch for me to guess that he already scared the hell out of you,” she said.

Ness nodded, shuddering.

“Yeah. Well, I can tell what you’re thinking,” R.D. hummed. “It might be hard to believe, especially right now, but if he’s really serious about this. . .then you can trust him. His work can get chaotic depending on whatever happens in the moment, but he’s still professional.”

Ness shifted in place, subconsciously petting Snare. “A-alright, then. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” R.D. replied. She turned away, only to glance at him over her shoulder. “I just hope you can think on your feet.”

Ness flinched at that. “I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Footsteps rumbled through the walls, and Caliban burst into the room yet again. “Alright! The car’s packed—let’s get going!”

He raced over to the closet, causing Ness to yelp as he was yanked from the floor and onto his feet. Snare hopped away at just the right second, scurrying out of the room to excitedly wait by the garage door.

Caliban, ever the dutiful partner, made sure to give R.D. a kiss on the cheek before tugging Ness out of the room. “Love you!”

“Love you too,” R.D. called after him. “Be careful!”

A dark laugh resounded on Caliban’s part. “Let him be careful.”

R.D. grinned to herself, knowing that Ness wasn’t who Caliban meant by that.

___

Ness wasn’t sure how long Mr. Sharp Te—er, Caliban, according to the woman he’d talked to a while ago—had been driving.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d heard the unmistakable sound of a key being turned in the ignition, of an engine roaring to life. It wasn’t like he could look outside the windows, after all; not until Caliban decided to let him.

No, he’d just had to listen to the rumbling of tires for what felt like hours now.

A chill seeped around his neck when the car eventually came to a halt.

The burlap sack was, once again, pulled off of his head.

He blinked—mostly out of instinct, since the world outside was still just as dark as when he’d been on that walk with Mike.

The stars were still glinting like diamonds painstakingly sewn onto a black velvet tapestry. By that same logic, the moon would’ve been a pearl, casting long, winding shadows with its cold, pale glow.

Snare was in his lap again, titling his head, nose twitching with an eerie thoughtfulness.

“. . .Where are we?” Ness asked, voice dripping with hesitation.

“Nowhere important,” Caliban answered with a shrug. And it seemed he was right: there was nothing but distant trees and vacant fields for miles upon miles.

“Let’s make something clear,” Caliban started, tossing the burlap-sack-mask into the back while he shifted in his seat.

“Most of the people who end up in my den and see my face? Yeah, they don’t get to leave. There’s only so many exceptions to that, and I guess you’re one of them now. I’ve already cut things close by letting you see me. So, when we get to wherever we need to be, I can’t be seen by anyone you know. Not your boytoy, not his sister, no-one else. Get it?”

Ness nodded quickly. “Got it.”

Caliban squinted at him, then heaved a sigh. “Okay. Here’s the first part of this: I can remember the route I drove to get to the place where I took you. I won’t have any problem finding my way there again, but once we do get there, I’ll need you to navigate.”

“Oh,” Ness blurted. It was a pretty solid plan. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but high-adrenaline scenarios like this didn’t tend to lead to smart choices. (Then again, this was all happening in the first place because he’d agreed to a late-night stroll in the woods. . .) “Um, yes, sure! I can do that when the time comes. That sounds perfect, actually.”

“I know it does,” Caliban grinned, rolling his shoulders.

With that, he restarted the engine and they were off. The headlights didn’t come on (that was probably intentional), but it didn’t really matter. Right now, the moon was bright enough to let both driver and passenger see in the darkness.

Caliban suddenly reached over to Ness’ side. Ness flinched back, expecting a knife in his grasp. But just before he could start pleading again, something light and dull dropped beside him. He palmed it, realizing by touch alone that it was his cellphone.

“Text him,” Caliban instructed. “If this is gonna work, then it’ll be best if the kid is as far away as possible. So, tell him that the two of you need some alone time to figure things out. Convince him to drop his sister off to stay with someone else for a little while.”

Ness blinked. “Wait–shouldn’t I just tell him to go with her? That both of them need to get away?”

“No,” Caliban replied tersely. “If you do that, then the bear-onesie-idiot will get suspicious. We have no idea what he’ll do, so the longer we keep him in the dark, the better.”

“But Mike will still be near him!” Ness protested. “He’ll still be in danger!”

“Mike is about the same age as us, right?”

“. . .Yeah. Yeah, he is—”

“Then Mike can probably defend himself just fine,” Caliban concluded. In a low, heavy voice, he added, “If anyone’s at risk here, it’s his sister. Don’t you think?”

Ness shut his mouth with a little porcelain snap, nodding frantically.

“Alright. Now, send him that message and then pass the phone back to me.”

Ness did as he was told, thanking God for the fact that a Creative Writing course had been on the side of his Drama class in high school. It might've been a while since he wrote anything, but he still remembered how to make things sound nice and realistic and convincing.

Still, it felt so horrible to lie to Mike. Especially at times like this.

After a few moments, once he was satisfied, he sent the text and carefully pushed the phone back over the center console. Caliban’s hand was a blur as he snatched it up and stuffed it into one of the interior pockets of his jacket.

It was, for the most part, pretty damn quiet. Ness usually didn’t like heavy silences—the jukebox back at Sparky’s had always been a decent source of comfort when he was working—but right now he was just fine.

After all, it wasn’t every day you got kidnapped by a cannibalistic hitman only to wind up riding shotgun with him so he could track down a person who was equally horrifying in different ways.

One did not simply come up with casual conversation in this scenario.

“Don’t call Mike a boytoy,” Ness murmured, the words leaving his mouth before his brain could register them.

“. . .What?” Caliban asked, not looking at his passenger.

Though part of his mind screamed at him not to, Ness still reiterated: “Don’t call Mike that. He’s not a perfect angel–he might not know what he’s doing sometimes, but he’s not just a boytoy.”

Caliban stayed quiet for a few long seconds, then let out a sarcastic chuckle. “He sure texts like one.”

Ness sputtered. “Yeah, well, it’s really difficult to translate some things without body language, but—” He cut himself off, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “. . .Wait, you read my text messages with him?!”

“Yeah,” Caliban said, rather nonchalantly. “I had your phone, didn’t I?”

“You—you—!” Ness’ vocal cords seemed to be malfunctioning yet again. . .only, for the first time all night, it wasn’t out of fear. “It doesn’t matter if you had my phone! You can’t just do that!”

Caliban snickered. “Sure I can. If you’d been in a position to keep it from me, then you might have an argument there. But you weren’t, so...”

Ness spread his hands in a highly-aggravated lame gesture. He made to keep on ranting, but Caliban interjected.

“Y’know, I guess I could’ve focused on something other than that phone. Like, oh, I don’t know…taking a few bites out of you, maybe?”

He only glanced away from the windshield for a millisecond, but that was still enough time for his eyes to drill into the waiter seated beside him. “But I chose not to. So just think about that, huh?”

Ness’ face went pale again; fear swiftly handed frustration’s ass to it. He merely nodded again, edging against the passenger-window.

“F-fair enough.”

Caliban hummed in agreement.

More silence.

The minutes seemed to go by at a speed similar to a tortoise getting drunk off molasses.

Snare, for all the energy he’d shown earlier, suddenly seemed tired. He let out a silent little yawn, his buck-teeth making the gesture way funnier than it probably should’ve been. After that, he curled up, resting his head against Ness’ stomach.

Caliban piped up again: “How did it happen?”

Ness glanced at him, unable to avoid raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t start forgetting things now,” Caliban chided. “By the grace of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, the guy I mixed you up with is apparently the same guy who’s been stalking you.”

He paused, then shot another glance at Ness, this one much more curious than sinister. “So, how did it happen? When did it start?”

“Um. . .” Ness didn’t particularly want to talk about this specific part of his recent life—hell, he’d never even talked to Mike about it.

Lot of good that did you, a voice in his head nagged.

Then again, he knew he had to if he wanted things to run at least somewhat smoothly.

Ness sighed. “I can’t remember the exact date, but it’s been going on for. . .I think about three months. Up until you took me, at least.”

“Do you know him at all?” Caliban asked. “Like, did you ever meet him before he decided to watch you from the bushes with a pair of binoculars?”

“No,” Ness shook his head forcefully. “I’ve never really even talked to him. The closest we ever got was late one night when he came into the diner for some coffee.” He paused, memories rushing back. “Way, way too much coffee, really. Enough to give someone legit heart palpitations.”

Caliban snorted. “Did he wear his bear costume that night?”

Ness thought back. “. . .No, actually. But think I did see part of it sticking out of a backpack he’d brought along.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have expected that much tact from him.” Caliban shrugged, then waved a hand at his passenger to continue.

“I. . .I don’t really know what I did to trigger him,” Ness explained. “I could tell something was off the first time I saw him, but even then, I still just tried to be polite, and he’d hardly said a word to me.”

He took a deep breath. “About a week after that first night, he came back. . .but he never actually came into the diner. He just stood at the edge of the parking lot, staring in through the windows.”

Ness paused, glancing out at the fields they were passing. He could’ve sworn he’d caught the silhouette of a deer just out of the corner or his eye.

“And after that. . ?” Caliban prompted.

“After that. . .” Ness echoed, thinking. “After that, he started leaving things at the diner. Boxes that came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, all marked with my name. They all smelled like smoke; sometimes the edges seemed burned. None of my coworkers or I ever really saw him drop the packages off, but I still knew it had to be him.”

Caliban hummed again, nodding. “What was in those packages?”

Ness threw a hand up in empty air. “That’s the thing: the packages never even made sense. One of them was full of broken glass shards, another had what looked like a ripped-up rubber mask. . .But sooner or later, they got worse. So, so much worse.”

He shuddered, heartbeat suddenly pounding in his ears. “One had a live rattlesnake in it!”

“Wait, really?” Caliban wondered aloud. “What a coincidence; a friend of mine did that exact thing to scare a sleazy prick out of our territory.”

Ness gawked at this.

“Hey, don’t give me that look.” Caliban rolled his eyes. “The guy was a loan-shark. Have you ever met a loan-shark? They’re like landlords, but a thousand times worse.”

. . .Okay, that actually did calm Ness’ nerves just a teensy bit. The average landlord was typically just a few million leeches in a trench coat, so if loan-sharks were even more unbearable than that…

Ness awkwardly coughed. “Another box had tarantulas in it! A couple real damn tarantulas! I’m pretty sure he got them from the pet store or something!”

Caliban’s face contorted at the statement, a visible shudder running through his arms.

“I was so afraid he’d start sending me dead things,” Ness went on. “I really thought it’d get to the point where he’d just scrape up roadkill and put it in a box, or. . .” He trailed off, thinking about the squirrels or rabbits or birds he’d see around the parking lot.

He thought about a duo of raccoons that frequented the dumpster out back; the ones he’d affectionately named Dine and Dash. Sometimes he’d try to leave out fresher scraps for them. Since his and Jack’s apartment didn’t allow pets just yet, he almost saw them as makeshift ones.

He wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if one of them had been left for him to find…

“Thankfully, he never did. But what he did do was just as bad,” Ness sighed. “Eventually, he started leaving letters. Sometimes they’d be full of vague threats, sometimes they’d just be rambling nonsense. No two were the same; it got so hard to keep track, to figure out what exactly I had to look out for. And. . .and the last letter he left for me, before all this happened—”

Ness’ voice started to quaver. Something cold, clammy, and awful began to fester in the pit of his stomach.

He coughed. “It mentioned Mike. I don’t know how he ever found out I was connected to him, but…but…”

Caliban’s features became unreadable.

That was it.

Ness just couldn’t get any more words out.

Instead, he choked. Fat, hot tears streamed down his face as the horrible memory played over and over and over again in his mind.

Snare stirred on his lap, lifting his head and blinking groggily. At first, he seemed quite annoyed at his nap being interrupted. But then, he did something Ness would’ve never expected: he sat up, bracing his paws against the waiter’s chest, pushed his fuzzy little face right up to his…and started licking the tears away.

Ness froze in place. It didn’t feel bad—if anything, it felt like eskimo kisses.

It just seemed so. . .wholesome. Especially for the same creature he’d witnessed chow down on a severed human finger not too long ago.

After a moment’s contemplation, Ness decided to just give in and hugged the pale hare.

Sometimes you just needed to take whatever emotional support you could get.

No matter how strange and slightly terrifying it was.

___

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @im-a-weird0 @lexusinsannus @b-is-in-the-closet @forestcouncil @yourlocalsonia2 @sunny011387 @lampsforsocks

I decided to add in a little extra comic based of the after events of my friendo @wouldntyou-liketoknow’s snippet of my previous post. @iswmperson @crazy-obsessed-enby @lexusinsannus

Abby is concern that “Ness” is not doing so well after he and Mike got lost in the woods, but Mike being the sleepy man he is, reassures that he and “Ness” will work things out.

All the while his kinda-boyfriend is trying to plead for his life to save Mike’s.

32 notes · View notes

wouldntyou-liketoknow · 19 days ago

Text

I usually try to make some quick of sarcastic joke out of the synopsis for my stories. But honestly, I just want to stick to the basics right now:

It's been such a weird, random, and above all, fun journey to have worked on this collab with you, @insane4fandoms . Thank you for all the hard work, detail, and thought/emotion you've put into the comics, and for letting me attach my stories to those comics, and for being so incredibly patient with all the time writing takes on my end.

Thank you for the kind words/reviews you've been giving me with each completed snippet; I really don't get enough feedback for my work in general, so each time a reader is nice enough to leave their thoughts/comments, it feels genuinely amazing.

Although we've both clearly got a lot of WIPs on our respective plates, I do hope that we'll be able to have fun with something like this again in the future.

And to think, this whole thing started out with a simple meme-comic that you just so happened to mention Ness and my special fanmade scrungly in.

As always, I hope you enjoy the story!

___

Terminal Case of the Ol’ Switcheroo [Epilogue]

(Disclaimer: only two of the characters in this snippet belong to me. For more information about Caliban, go here. For more information on The Newcomer, my very own technical Reader!Character, go here. Murdock belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe…but if you’d like to see my personal headcanons about him, go here. And if you’d like to learn about the mob these guys all work for, go here.)

(One more thing: I’ve actually written a full character analysis on the dynamic between Mad and Caliban. If you’re interested, please feel free to check it out here.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, knives/blades, implied kidnapping, implied violence, talk of murder/death, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of illegal business, eating/drinking, implied stalking, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

___

Four days later…

Considering they’d been roommates for so long, Ness and Jack had grown accustomed to snide comments about the former keeping his own vehicle. He lived with a cabbie, didn’t he? Why not just enjoy the service?

Well, first of all: No. That whole idea was just rude on so many levels.

Second of all: The whole concept of roommates revolved around two or more people actually being able to stand living with one another. And yes, circumstances varied, but constantly begging for rides was a good way to tip that Jenga tower with a quickness.

Third of all: Yes, Jack was willing to help out those he was close to. Even so, he was a friend, not just some personal chauffeur.

Fourth of all: As stated before, Ness was an adult who had his own damn car…which had been at the local garage getting some much-needed repairs since the beginning of the week. Hopefully it would be ready to drive again soon.

It’d been a hot minute since Ness had needed assistance from Jack—well, technically he’d already gotten some help before today. Back when his roommate and Abby had found him and Mike hiding in the storage closet at Sparky’s.

Maybe that was why this particular evening felt ever-so-slightly surreal as the air was filled with their quiet chatter.

“…So, how’s Mike been?” Jack asked, the wheel slowly spinning under his hands.

“Better,” Ness replied, resting his chin on his palm and gazing through the passenger window. “The loopiness lasted longer than I thought it would, but it’s definitely gone by now.”

Part of him said this to reassure his friend.

Another part of him, meanwhile, said it to reassure himself as the image of a needle sinking into Mike’s neck flickered behind his eyes.

Jack snorted. “Since when is that guy not at least a little loopy?”

Ness raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I mean, from what I’ve heard, he’s still mad at you for letting Abby hold Buckshot.”

The intended retort seemed to die on Jack’s tongue. He glanced at Ness out of the corner of his eye before he started sputtering. “That—that was an accident, I swear! I didn’t even realize I’d set it down; she only picked it up because I was busy helping you carry Mike! She was just trying to help!”

“Hey, I’m not denying all that,” Ness mentioned, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. He paused before folding his arms across his chest. “...But you’re still gonna have to make it up to him.”

Jack heaved a long-suffering sigh, shifting in his seat (which the aforementioned Buckshot was now resting underneath, tucked into that hidden compartment and waiting for another emergency on another day).

“You can’t say I didn’t show her how to properly handle that stuff earlier,” he murmured. “Better to teach ‘em basic safety when they’re young.”

Ness nodded, humming in vague agreement.

Afterward, a different type of silence settled into the air. A layer of ice that anyone could walk on, but no-one ever really wanted to be the one to break.

The two of them spent the next few minutes glancing at one another out of the corners of their eyes, both trying so furiously to look like they were just existing together that they only succeeded in making the obviousness unbearable.

Jack carefully took one hand away from the wheel, guiding it toward himself. He began fidgeting with the puka shell necklace that Ness had never actually seen him take off. He took the time to gently spin each of the shiny, pale-as-bone-china little shapes between his fingers. The same way he always did when he was thinking.

Or, to be more precise: when he was nervous.

He’d already taken these recent rides as opportunities to ask Ness things. To remind Ness about things.

Was Ness feeling okay? Was he drinking enough water? Why hadn’t Ness told Mike about the stalker-issue when it’d first started out?

If Ness really didn’t want to say anything about what had happened a few nights ago, then that was his business…

But still, if there was anything Ness ever needed to get off his chest, about how things were going in his life, he could trust his roommate to listen. He knew that, right?

Of course, this was all just more evidence supporting how good of a roommate Jack was. He looked out for his buddies. He was willing to make himself content with an explanation as simple (sometimes infuriatingly so) as Hey, it just be like that sometimes.

Ness chewed his lip.

He had a legitimate reason for keeping secrets right now. He was only doing it to keep his circle safe.

That didn’t change the fact that it still made him so damn nervous—

THUNK

Just as the cab turned a very familiar street corner, just as it rolled underneath a very familiar tree growing by the sidewalk on said corner, a blurry figure came plummeting down just before the windshield.

Jack yelped, his car screeching to a halt as he stomped on the brake pedal.

Ness all but trebuchetted against the back of his seat, letting out a short scream that was much higher-pitched than he’d care to admit.

The figure shook itself, a bushy tail waving about as it began to cautiously sniff at the metallic embrace of its one-in-a-hundred-chance-random-landing-pad.

It took exactly five whole seconds of breath-holding and staring before the two of them realized that the culprit was just a clumsy squirrel who’d fallen off a branch somewhere above.

Naturally, Jack was the first to snap out of it.

He rolled his window down halfway, then called out, “What’re you doing?”

The squirrel’s only response was to freeze again, tiny nose twitching and beady eyes contemplating.

“…Don’t walk on my hood!” Jack ordered. He waved a hand at the windshield. “C’mon, shoo! Shoo!”

Once the squirrel had taken the hint to hop off and scurry across the street to climb the trunk of a completely different tree, Jack resumed driving, only to stop yet again a couple minutes later.

Ness rolled his shoulders as he unbuckled his seatbelt, pushing the passenger door open. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Jack smiled, nodding as the waiter stepped out into the night. That was another green-flag for the guy: he didn’t often mind when his roommate decided to spend the night somewhere else. “See you tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow!” Ness echoed, hefting the door shut. He took a few seconds to wave as the taxi headed off, ready to start searching for any potential riders.

With that, Ness turned and started walking up the Schmidt driveway.

He’d been prepared to use the extra key that was hidden somewhere on the porch, but the front door swung open right as he climbed the short concrete steps.

Abby stood in the threshold, smiling as she reached out to hug him. “Hi, Ness!”

“Bitty!” Ness replied, immediately returning the embrace, his surprise only lasting so long. It was just so good to see her happy, the way kids deserved to be. He’d only ever seen her frightened once, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to again for a long time.

“Ah—hold on, why are you here?” He asked as the girl tugged him inside by the arm. “What about—?”

He stopped short, watching as Mike poked his head out of the kitchen and came traipsing over, hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

“...Hey,” Ness greeted, his chest suddenly feeling a bit lighter. “What happened to your shift?”

Mike shrugged. “The boss brought in some extra help before I got there; turns out her niece wants to learn the trade, so I guess she’s being taught through volunteering. I was told that the schedules would be updated by tomorrow.”

Ness hummed, “Huh. That’s…oddly wholesome.”

“‘Oddly?’” Mike repeated.

Ness merely raised his eyebrows, and the way Mike offered a half-nod-half-shug indicated that he got the point.

Sarcasm aside, it was good to know that things were going smoothly with the job Mike had been working ever since he’d lost the gig at Freddy’s. Acting as security for an animal shelter had to be one of the best things for bouncing back. Even if it’d caused near-incessant levels of pestering from Abby (and sometimes Ness) for a puppy or kitten or a kitten and a puppy.

“Well, what about your shift?” Mike asked. “Everything go okay for you?”

Ness smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Just the same stuff as usual. No bad customers this time, thankfully.”

Abby’s face fell at that, her eyes growing sympathetic. “I wish there were never any bad ones.”

Ness shrugged. “Yeah, me too. But that’s just life. What’re you gonna do?”

Abby thought for a moment before mischief etched its way along her features. “Smack ‘em with a plate! Or, or! If they complain about a drink, just pick it up and dump it on their heads!”

Ness threw his head back, cackling. “Sometimes I really wish I could. But even if my coworkers have my back, I’d still get in trouble.”

Abby pouted again. “Why don’t the bratty snobs ever seem to get in trouble for pushing you guys around?”

Ness paused, his laughter coming to an abrupt halt. Putting on a somewhat serious face, he knelt down and loudly whispered, “Look, as much as I love the concept of fast-learning and teaching stuff early…I’m not sure you wanna dive into philosophy just yet.”

Abby giggled, playfully rolling her eyes as she headed over to her blanket fort and began making slight adjustments.

“Oh, by the way,” Mike declared as he settled down onto the living room couch. “I’m onto your little scheme.”

Ness froze, the dark blue waist-apron he’d just untied slipping through his fingers and fluttering to the floor.

No…no, he had to be mistaken. Mike had to be bluffing.

Three whole days had passed since the incident, and nothing had happened at all.

Sure, there was still a cold, clammy knot of dread taking up space in his stomach.

Sure, he hadn’t been able to get much sleep last night, so he’d decided to make use of that time by researching the rumors about a macabre museum states and states away that had just re-opened its doors to the public after months of closure, and he’d been trying to listen to music all the while, but he’d had to keep taking his earbuds out because he thought he’d heard something moving outside.

Sure, he’d been unable to help but brace himself to feel movement somewhere directly behind him, brace himself for that movement slowly-but-surely creep closer until he could feel hot breath tinged with something metallic on the back of his neck.

…And sure, Ness—and the trick candles he called nerves—had been wrong. Apart from himself, Mike, and Abby, the house had been vacant last night. No intruders. No silhouettes looming in outside, trying to stay away from the beam of the streetlamps on the sidewalks.

But in the grand scheme of things, life had gone back to normal. (As normal as it could be at Sparky’s and in the Schidmt household, at least.)

“What do you mean by that?” Ness asked, trying desperately to keep his tone of voice playful. He tilted his head to the side, smiling wider to take any focus away from how pale he’d suddenly gotten.

Mike snorted. Though he didn’t look at Ness, too preoccupied with fishing his water bottle from his work-bag, an eye-roll was evident in his voice. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Ness, unsure what else to do, found himself carefully glancing at his boyfriend’s sister.

Abby looked just as lost as he was, her little brow furrowed in confusion. Her big, warm doe-eyes, however…if he looked close enough, he could see a tinge of something else. It wasn’t concrete understanding, thank God.

But still, even if she’d apparently made peace with letting him keep a secret or two, she still had her questions. And even if those questions wouldn’t see the light of day because she cared about Ness’ feelings, they still wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

Ness had kept his word, for everyone’s sake. He’d stayed quiet. It’d been fortunate that everyone had been so focused on Mike in the aftermath, but even though that had only lasted so long…he’d done his part.

Whenever Jack or Abby tried to ask him about where he’d been or what exactly he knew or where his demented doppelganger had disappeared to, he’d managed to mislead them, to steer the conversation away from all the gory details.

And, as far as he could tell, his tactfulness had pulled through.

It just wasn’t possible for Mike to know…

“Trying to get me to open up a disguised glitter bomb, or a paint cannon, or one of those stupid spring-loaded plastic snakes,” Mike continued, a wry, exhausted grin spreading across his face. “All to get back at me for a mistake I made months ago. Don’t deny it; maybe you have other people fooled, but I know how petty you really are.”

He chuckled, running a hand through the mess of short, frizzy, dark brown curls atop his head. “As if Abbs wasn’t already the reincarnation of Kevin McCallister. Now I’ve gotta deal with your tricks, too.”

…And just like that, an invisible tidal wave crashed over him. A suspsiciously loud sigh of relief was almost knocked out of his chest, but Ness was quick, keeping it trapped where it belonged.

“Whaaaaaaat? No, no-no-no, that’s got nothing to do with you. I mean—well, it’s just—the craft store has been having a ton of great deals lately, so…” Ness stammered, putting on a mask of overexaggerated, poorly-hidden anxiety.

Ironic how that was helping to keep his true nervousness, as well a suspsiciously loud sigh of relief, trapped in his chest where it belonged.

He then threw his fresh stutter out the window, raising his hands to his face like a cheap imitation of Edvard Munch’s The Scream, he turned his attention to Abby. “…He’s figURED IT OUT! WE’RE COMPROMISED!” He rushed forward, snatching a decorative pillow from the armchair and raising it over his head like a grenade. “GET HIM, GET HIM!”

Abby’s eyes widened, a lovely, excited, mischievous smile manifesting out of nowhere. She stood up, grabbing two more pillows from her blanket-fort and letting out a sound that was equal parts war-cry and laughter as she executed an impressive running-leap to tackle her older brother.

Mike moved far too slowly, unable to shield his face from the onslaught in time. He fell back onto the couch cushions, laughing and yelping in mock-protest. It was unclear whether he was encouraging Abby’s play-fighting to make her feel strong, or just playing it off like he was holding back to cover up the fact that he was so quickly neutralized by a ten-year-old who wasn’t even half his size.

Though the pillow-fight only lasted for a couple blissful moments, Ness was still out of breath by the time everyone was holding still again. (Really, though, you couldn’t blame him. The sudden ambush had been absolutely devastating, because Abby was the crown-queen of plushie-weilding assassins, thank you very much.)

Mike heaved a sigh, giving Abby one last noogie before correcting his posture and plucking the remote up from the floor.

“Seriously, though,” he announced as the TV’s screen sparked to life, “one of your orders was sent here again. I left it on the table.” He nodded over to the dining room’s hollow doorway.

Ness blinked, leaning against one of the sofa’s armrests. “I haven’t ordered anything lately.”

“You’re really still going with the joke, huh?” Mike smirked. “Go see for yourself. Not like it’s the first time this has happened. I’ve told you before that I don’t mind.” He paused, pursing his lips. “...But still, a heads-up would be nice.”

Confused as he was, Ness couldn’t really deny that last part. Sometimes the mailroom back at the apartment complex was blocked off or closed for whatever reason. And jumping through all those hoops that were supposedly vital for reclaiming lost stuff at the depot…yeah, he wasn’t sure why archaic forms of torture like that were still legal.

Besides, Ness had been staying over at this place more and more often, so…

Shrugging to himself, Ness turned on his head and wandered over. He went to the kitchen first, approaching the washing machine and dryer that had been set up in the corner. The freshly-repaired window seemed to give the whole area a little extreme gleam.

(Then again, that gleam would apply to any place that didn’t have shards of broken glass strewn about the floor.)

After chucking his waist-apron into the former and turning its dial to the right setting, he paused to enjoy a handful of trail mix from the pantry. With that, he took a seat at the dining table.

There was, indeed, a yellow mailer package waiting patiently for him.

Squinting, Ness reached over and pulled it closer. He lifted it up, shaking it carefully. Nothing inside seemed to rattle or sway, but there was an obvious weight to it.

“I found it on the porch this morning,” Mike called from the living room. “Come to think of it, it must’ve been delivered way earlier than the mail usually is.”

Ness tore the folded flaps at the top open, causing a bundle of red tissue paper to slide out. With a quiet, curious hum, Ness took that bundle into his hands and ripped it away by one edge to reveal…the same bundle, only slightly smaller and shrouded by black tissue paper.

He tore the black covering away to discover another sheet of red.

Once the second red sheet was gone, another black sheet appeared udnerneath.

Red paper, black paper, red paper, black paper, red-black-red-black-red-black-red-black…

Just as Ness began to worry that this would turn into a multi-hour endeavor, he ripped away the thirteenth red sheet and found a tight wad of bubblewrap. He had to fish out his pocket-knife to cut the tape away, but soon enough, he was peeling away the final layers to reveal the small prize at the center.

Ness held it between his forefinger and thumb, raising it closer to his face.

“A frog?” Abby wondered as she trotted into the room, zeroing in on the bubblewrap that was silently demanding to be popped.

Ness nodded, turning the shiny enamel pin to and fro, gazing at the bright yellow material, complimented by splotches of black. Its back was to the world, legs stretching out at angle that hinted it was trying to climb along something.

“A poison dart frog,” he corrected.

“Ooh! Okay, so, a really, really dangerous one!” Abby mused. She leaned closer to get a better look. “Well, I think it’ll look nice with your other one. Did you get one for Mike? So you guys can keep matching?”

Ness shrugged and smiled, knowing that she meant the pride pin he often wore on his leather jacket (a frying pan adorned by wide stripes of pink, yellow, and sky-blue), as well as the one he’d gifted Mike shortly after they’d started dating (a cassette tape with horizontal lines of pink, violet, and cobalt).

As nice as the memories were, and as pretty as this dart frog pin was…that did nothing to change the fact that Ness did not remember ordering this. At all.

Yeah, online shops like Etsy were addictive, and yeah, Ness had a habit of ordering several items at once. But he only did that kind of stuff around holidays or birthdays; he was a waiter, after all.

A small eruption of plinks and dings and chimes came rattling through the air.

In a different time or a different situation, hearing the abrupt, unmistakable call of a pinball machine in a place that had no such machines installed anywhere might be cause for slight panic.

However, considering Ness had set such a classic sound as his ringtone in favor of the generic options, this managed to be as casual as it was disruptive.

Still holding the dart frog pin in one hand, Ness got back to his feet and picked his phone up from the kitchen counter.

The screen read Unknown, with only a blank profile to offer.

Ness raised an eyebrow. Like many people, he’d gotten used to scam and spam alike; in fact, with a little help from Jack (and, later on, Abby), he’d learned some efficient ways deal with them. Mainly via using the unbridled power of second-hand embarrassment to make whatever desperate thief hang up within ten seconds.

…But, of course, there was always the chance that the call was legitimate, that a friend’s number had changed for whatever reason, that kind of stuff.

So, Ness tapped the Accept icon and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey there, Ness,” a voice greeted.

Ness’ eyes widened. His lips parted with a short, low gasp for air. Something with jagged edges crawled through his guts.

“...S-sorry, do I know you?” The question came out more on instinct than intention. While doubt did have a reputation for acting up at the wrong times, Ness knew that it had nothing to do with this.

“I’m sure I’m in your memory somewhere,” the voice replied, his tone an invisible pen that drew a sly grin along his face. “I know trauma does some funny stuff, but you don’t strike me as the type to edit your own memories as part of coping. Don’t try that in the future, by the way. Never ends well for anyone.”

Though Ness wasn’t sure how to respond to a comment like that, his understanding was immediate.

Because the voice wasn’t exactly familiar…but he still recognized the speaker.

Hell, he could picture rows of teeth that glinted in dim light, that seemed a tad too sharp the longer you looked at them. He could imagine that voice drifting through those teeth.

He could remember seeing his very reflection against the silver material of one that clearly hadn’t grown from the speaker’s gums like all the rest.

Ness blinked, and he was suddenly moving again. Away from the dining table. Past the living room. Down the short, narrow hallway. Into the very bedroom he and Mike had started sharing during his visits.

He closed the door as softly as he could, though the click of the lock being engaged felt deafening.

“Are there any Sydneys with you right now? Or just in town at the moment? I think I might know I guy who’s been trying to get ahold of one.” A wave of snickering crackled through the microphone.

Considering his life had temporarily departed onto the path of some weird, amatuer-ish thriller movie days prior, Ness wasn’t sure if he was supposed to start laughing or crying…or just hang up and chuck his phone into the wall and curl up in the fetal position to question everything again.

That last option definitely wouldn’t prove anything, so he opted to start pacing the floor, approached the window by the side of the bed to shakily close its blinds. “No, I don’t know anyone named Sydney. Is that a joke, or are you trying to sabotage one of your competitors?”

“Not sure, though I wouldn’t turn down a chance to combine the two.” Caliban giggled again before sighing. “But the question isn’t anything like that. The question is: did you expect to hear from me again?”

Ness hesitated. He certainly hadn’t expected anything like this, but…well, you couldn’t have a stalker for months without having an extra tablespoon of paranoia mixed into your mind.

“No, I guess. Not exactly,” he finally responded.

Caliban hummed. “Ah, that’s good. In my line of work, sometimes you can get extra points for unpredictability.”

“What do you want?” Ness blurted. “Why are you calling me?”

“I mean, I held onto your phone for so long, I figured I might as well memorize the number. Just for the novelty, y’know?” Caliban explained, chuckling. “Plus…it’s really not often that I get a chance to check in on certain people.”

In spite of his anxiety, Ness raised an eyebrow. “You mean your victims?”

“Uh, excuse you, I’ve checked in on victims before; it all just depends on the nature of the job,” Caliban scoffed.

Ness shuddered, wondering about threatening and taunting mind-games this guy might have played with particular targets.

“Besides, take a good look where you are,” Caliban continued. “You helped me set things right, and I returned the favor. You’re hardly what I’d call a victim.” He paused, then quickly added, “Well, not a victim of mine, anyway.”

Ness’ heart skipped a beat, thrumming in a harsh manner against his sternum. Memories of the packages, of the letters, of Mad’s face, all twisted with hatred in his snarling mouth and a sick type of light in his eyes.

There was no way Caliban didn’t already know who he was thinking about, so Ness simply murmured, “Is he…is he—”

“Dead?” Caliban interjected, his voice turning thoughtful. “Oh, yeah, no. He’s still kicking; I made sure of that.”

Ness’ jaw hit the floor. “W-What?! But why? I—I though you hated him!”

“I do. And the way I see it, dying would be way, waaaaaaay too good for him. What with all the crap he’s pulled wherever he goes.” Another sharp, unhinged, hungry cackle slithered into Ness’ ears. “But on the other hand: getting caught and mauled over and over and over again? If that’s not karma, then I don’t know what the hell is.”

Ness sputtered. Caliban’s place, wherever it was, was a few hours away from here…but what if Mad was somewhere out there again? What if he’d hitch-hiked with some poor soul who didn’t know any better?

“Is he still with you?” Ness asked in a hoarse voice.

“Getting right down to business, I see.” Caliban hummed approvingly. “Yes and no. Plans are just moving along.”

“Wha—okay, what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Ness demanded, struggling to keep his voice down. It wouldn’t do to have Mike or Abby hear any of this.

“Take a wild guess,” Caliban replied. “Look, you’re probably about to pull a sign out of Hammer Space that says ‘HERE WE GO AGAIN’ and start waving it like a flag. But before it gets there, listen: you won’t be seeing him anymore. And neither will your friends.”

Ness felt something race up his spine. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it wasn’t a chill. More like a warm spark, actually.

Caliban took that bewildered silence as the green light to continue. “It took a lot of work, but hey, I enjoy a challenge. Even if the idiot’s still living in Delulu Land, he knows better than to try coming after you.”

Ness lowered his head, starting at the floor. Mad had made it obvious time and time again that he wasn’t one to take things lying down, to learn his lesson, to just. STOP.

But then, everyone had to at least take a few breaks here and there.

“What did you do?” Ness asked, both out of fear and genuine curiosity.

“I did some of the best I can,” Caliban chuckled. “Let’s just say that the face he has now certainly ain’t the one he was born with.”

“...Really? You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious!” Caliban seemed to be beaming at this point. “Watching one of your own kidneys get removed will do that. Not to mention the sections of skin I took. Gotta be thorough, don’t we?”

“O-oh…” Ness mumbled, a sudden bout of nausea swirling around his head.

Mad’s voice pounded on his eardrums—all the threats he’d spat out back at Sparky’s. How he’d insisted that Caliban would just take a Two For One deal rather than sparing the same waiter he himself had been after.

But he’d been wrong. That hadn’t happened at all.

Somehow, it was obvious that Caliban was nodding. “What can I say? Butcher money where your mouth is.”

And then he was cackling again, giving Ness ample opportunity to imagine the cannibal’s grin widening, his teeth gnashing the air, his eyes nearly feral as they bulged from their sockets.

Sooner or later, the laughter slowed to a halt as Caliban took a breath. “So, did you get my little souvenir? What do you think of it?”

Ness’ brow furrowed in confusion…only for him to nearly slap a hand over his mouth as it gaped open in shock again. Due to the shiny little pin still in his grasp, however, he couldn’t.

“The dart frog pin?” He wondered, raising the object in question closer to eye-level. “This is from you?”

Caliban hummed affirmative. “And I’ll take that as a yes. The package looked so official, didn’t it? One of my friends is amazing when it comes to forgery.”

“…Why? Why did you leave it for me? What does it mean?” Despite his relative relief about the state Mad was apparently in, Ness still felt wary.

“Oh, c’mon, Ness. Think: why do posion dart frogs look the way they do? Why would any animal evolve neon colors instead of camouflage?”

“To—to show off their toxicity. To wear a warning sign,” Ness replied, part of the animal nerd he’d been in grade-school piping up from the back of his brain. “To warn any predators that they’d better not try eating them, or—” He cut himself off, puzzle-pieces slowly connecting through his mind. “Or else…they’ll…regret it.”

“Right!” Caliban pronounced. “There wasn’t any time for you to actually see them, but…well, I don’t work alone. Never have, really. Not even when I take on solo-jobs.”

Ness swallowed a lump in his throat. Mad had mentioned Caliban running around with a mob…and Caliban himself had mentioned something about family before, hadn’t he? Was he remembering things right?

“That pin I sent you isn’t the only one. There’s plenty more out there,” Caliban continued. “We use them as identifiers. To keep track of who our potential allies are. Same goes for enemies: just something to make them think twice before they try screwing around with us by proxy.”

“So…so, this means we’re good?” Ness coughed.

“Yep,” Caliban responded. This time, his voice was a bit softer than before. “Look, if you’re really worried about it, then just get a tattoo. Ink like that either absolutely RUINS the taste of the skin, or risks denting the price of a section on the market. Trust me: even the smallest tattoos can have that effect.”

“A-alright?” Ness cringed, equal parts grateful and horrified by the information. “And…you don’t want anything from me?”

“Nope. Just try to be smart whenever you feel the need to wear that thing.”

Ness nodded; he didn’t know why, since it wasn’t like Caliban could see the gesture, but there wasn’t much else he could do. After all, it wasn’t every day you were gifted a symbol of protection from a cannibal mobster who’d kidnapped you by accident because you just happen to look a lot like some other serial killer.

“Sure,” he breathed. He felt…lighter. As if a bunch of invisible strangler-vines had wilted away from his shoulders after growing there for what seemed like months.

There was a pause. Caliban stayed on the line, though he’d gone just as quiet. Ness couldn’t imagine a scenario where the cannibal felt the same level of awkwardness as him, but anything was possible, right?

Finally, as the background cracked around his voice, Caliban stated, “Take care of yourself, Ness. A lot of people clearly do, so you shouldn’t just put that all on them.”

In spite of everything that had happened—all the fear, panic, dread—Ness smiled.

Admittedly, it didn’t last long, as Caliban decided to add, through another small fit of snickers, “Your boytoy, too.”

“...Mike is nOT A BOYTOY,” Ness snapped.

“Hey, it’s not my fault the guy looks like he still has a Myspace,” Caliban argued.

Ness sputtered, trying desperately to hide how he knew that Mike did, indeed, still have a Myspace. “That—that—that doesn’t mean anything!”

“Sometimes it really does. Not saying Facebook is worth anything either, but still.” Caliban barked another laugh.

But before Ness could try to retort, a short, high-pitched beep! rang through the phone, silencing the other end.

He pulled the devices away from his ear, staring down at it for a few long seconds before lightly tossing it onto the bed.

Then, he trudged over to Mike’s closet. The duffelbag he’d gotten in the habit of leaving here waited in the corner.

Ness knelt down and opened it up, rummaging through all the spare clothes and toiletries until he fished out his cyan leather jacket. Careful not to prick his fingers, Ness attached the dart frog pin a little ways below the garment’s collar. As quick as the process was, he felt the need to hold his breath.

The enamel glinted in the light as Ness held the jacket up; the little dart frog actually complimented the leather’s shade pretty well.

Chewing his lip, he returned the jacket to its place and fetched a set of soft pajamas (the bottom half of which was covered in a tiny print-pattern of Mothman). Once he'd exchanged his work uniform for that, he unlocked the bedroom door and strolled down the hallway.

He wondered if Mike and Abby would be up for watching a movie tonight.

Movies always seemed to be the best thing when the world finally began slowing back down.

___

Caliban glanced up at the dark sky, breathing in the fresh, cool air.

Another night, another impending job.

Another vacant field that was miles away from any nearby cities (including both the Cove Port Inlets and that town surrounding Sparky’s).

He’d lost count of all the times he’d thanked his lucky stars that his cellphone been set up to not have any calls or texts recorded.

He slipped the device into one of his jacket’s pockets—right across from the one his meat cleaver rested in. Then he circled around the twitching, heaving lump that he’d dropped on the ground only moments ago, cackling to himself all the while.

Mad’s swollen, bloodshot eyes followed his movements, glazed-over yet still somewhat aware. Still full of pain and anger and bitter defeat.

He had to keep squeezing them closed every few seconds, probably to try and combat the stinging, burning pain that lingered under the bandaged that Caliban had begrudgingly layered about the incision site in his side.

After a few seconds of panting and gagging, his busted lips pressed together in a nasty scowl. It was so very obvious how he wanted to spew all sorts of colorful words the cannibal’s way but he’d already screamed his throat raw from the recent harvesting. He wouldn’t be able to say much for at least the rest of the evening.

In fact, he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the evening.

Caliban knew that, in spite of the nylon binds wrapped tightly around his wrists, Mad would eventually free himself. But all the exhaustion left in the wake of his frenzied adrenaline would keep him from struggling until sometime the next morning.

“Remember, Mad.” Caliban knelt down to his enemy’s level, one hand lashing out to cup his chin, forcing him to retain eye-contact, fingernails digging into skin. “If I catch word of you so much as looking that waiter again, I’ll take one of your eyes next time. And if you try to set foot in the town he’s from, I’ll saw off one of your legs.”

Though he neither nodded nor shook his head, Mad’s reaction was still easy to read. He squirmed in place, trying to edge away, his eyes bulging from their sockets—not out of mania or glee…but fear.

There was still hatred, of course (Mad could never truly resist his self-absoprtion), but there was no mistaking the strand of pure, unfiltered fear that mixed with his agony is such a delicious way.

“Not that I’d sell any of those pieces for a higher price than that kidney,” Caliban continued, a vicious smirk on his face as he harshly jabbed at those red-tinged bandages. “After all the crap you insist on getting yourself into…honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t started taking swigs out of your jerry cans just yet.”

He released his hold, shoving Mad onto his back before standing up again. Never one to turn down giving off the same vibes as a shark or hyena or any other infamous hunter, Caliban resumed his pacing.

“Y’know, even with this always-coming-back thing that you never seem to shut up about,” he pronounced, “I think you’ve already been dead for a long time. The person you used to be died the day you started your so-called ‘career.’”

Out of habit, Caliban fished his cleaver out of his pocket, simply fidgeting with it. The tool was already pretty enough, what with all those wavey streaks naturally set in the damascus steel. But moonlight shining off of the blade made it look even better. Of course, that didn’t always compare to when it was spattered in red, but it was still a nice sight.

“That’s why you were so obsessed with tormenting him, isn’t it?” Caliban wondered aloud, intentionally making it sound much more like a statement than a question. “Because you just couldn’t stand the fact that he’s not the same rotten shell that you are…”

Caliban gazed at the other killer’s expression.

Sure enough, his words had struck a nerve. Mad craned his neck to sneer at him, trembling with rage. Though Caliban had only been occasionally dealing with him for a couple years now, he could easily tell that Mad had been the type of student who probably had an identity-crisis every time he couldn’t be the smartest person in the room.

“...But instead of even bothering to actually earn anything like what he has,” Caliban went on, “you just decided to try dragging him down to your level, huh?”

The cannibal clicked his tongue, shaking his head dismissively.

“It’s never gonna work, buddy. No matter where you go, what you do, who you kill…you’re never gonna be the better ma—”

BWAAAAAAANNNN!

The classic blare of a car-horn came roaring out of nowhere, causing Mad to flinch and Caliban to nearly jump out of his skin.

The horn went off a few more times, very intentionally in a pattern:

BWAAA-BWAAA-BWAAA-BWAAA, BWAA-BWAAAN!

As Caliban whipped around to stare at the car that was parked on the side of the road, waiting for him just a couple yards away, there was a second or two of silence.

BWAAN!

…Okay, now there was silence. Caliban rolled his eyes, knowing that the car’s driver could see him nodding despite the relative distance. Slipping the cleaver back into his pocket, he began strolling over to the vehicle.

“See you around,” he called over his shoulder. He only got a few raspy, unintelligible murmurs in response, but that was better than Mad’s typical, grating voice.

Caliban soon found himself stepping back onto the road, moving around his ride and pulling the passenger-side door open. After buckling his seatbelt, he looked over into the eyes that were currently hidden behind a pair of black-tinted sunglasses.

“Look, I’ll admit that I’ve got no room to talk about monologuing,” Murdock announced, his deep voice rolling into the air as he twisted the key in the ignition. “But we’re still kinda on a time-crunch right now.”

“Fair point.” Caliban offered a combination of nod and shrug. “But still, you could’ve just sent a text if you really wanted me to cut things short.”

“…I could always just make you walk to the job-site,” Murdock warned, groaning in time with how Caliban laughed at the little pun.

“Except for the part where you can’t,” Caliban contended, “since we were assigned to take care of this target together.” It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. When they weren’t squabbling over jokes, the two of them made a pretty great team.

“He’s got you there,” a voice that had slowly grown more and more familiar over time piped up from the backseat.

…Okay, scratch that, the three of them made a good team. At least, that was the case whenever Murdock decided to bring his tagalong—the newest member of The Pentas Family—into the action. They were still being trained in the art of a contract-killer, after all.

Caliban peered up at the rearview mirror to see Snare bouncing in The Newcomer’s lap, purring in that gravelly ways only hares could pull off as they stroked his back and scratched his ears. Even if they hadn’t removed their gloves, the hare didn’t seem to mind how the scarlet-dyed leather felt against his fur.

“Traitor,” Caliban jokingly called out to his pet.

The Newcomer smiled and shrugged, only to let out a small yelp as Snare pushed his nose against their ear.

In truth, Caliban was quite glad that Snare had warmed up to The Newcomer so fast. Especially considering how shy they’d been around him when Murdock had first brought them along to learn basic body-disposal (the kind with dismemberment and disembowelment, at least).

“Yeah, you are needed on the job tonight,” Murdock agreed, glancing Caliban’s way as he maneuvered the car down the road, further and further away from where Mad had been dropped off. “You’re gonna be needed on the next upcoming jobs that we’ve had scheduled for months now. Those same jobs that were almost thrown up in the air when you decided to just suddenly run off without telling any of us.”

Caliban pursed his lips, shifting in his seat. “Hey, c’mon, I didn’t forget about any of that. I moved as quickly as I could because of that; I was only gone for one night.”

Murdock furrowed his brow, taking one hand from the wheel to aggravatingly adjust the raven hair that tickled his shoulders. “Still doesn’t change the fact that someone vanishing off the face of the Earth is only a good thing when we’re responsible for it.”

“Aza was worried about you,” The Newcomer added, a bit of sadness creeping into their dark gray eyes. “It’s a good thing your wife reached out to explain when she did; The Boss nearly sent out a search-party.”

Caliban cringed. Okay, yeah, he’d definitely have to find a way to make up for that. Just the idea of his sister being scared made him feel sick, and The Boss had already done so much for him and her…

“Look, I know I probably should’ve handled that whole mess differently,” he admitted, fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper. “But right there in the moment, when I figured out just what kind of mistake I’d made…I panicked.”

He threw his thumb over his shoulder, toward the back window. Though they were now well on their way with no figures still lingering in view outside, it was obvious who he meant by the gesture.

“You know who that was.”

He paused, then added, his tone tapering down a few octaves: “You know that…that he goes after kids.”

Both Murdock and The Newcomer’s faces fell, almost in perfect unison. It was usually difficult to read the former’s expression, thanks to his shades. But right here, right now, it was clear as crystal that he understood. That he felt the same disgust, the same fear as Caliban had.

The Newcomer swallowed a lump in their throat, lowering their head and holding Snare close to their chest.

The Pentas Family wasn’t made up of saints. Never had been, never would be. But when it came to the rules The Boss had set when the mob was first established, NEVER stooping low enough to harm children was at the very top of the list.

Murdock let out a quiet sigh, nodding solemnly.

“...Still,” he mentioned. “This is—what, the seventh time you’ve gone after him? How stubborn can he possibly be?”

“I’m not sure what he’s made of,” Caliban shrugged, staring though the window. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wound up chopping his own damn hands off in the future. But he’s gotta call it quits someday.”

He folded his arms across his chest, thinking. “And until then, someone might as well make his life hell every so often. Just to remind him about that.”

Murdock hummed thoughtfully, spinning the brass chain of his necklace between his fingers. “...Well said.”

“Thanks.”

The moments dragged by as a new quiet settled inside the car.

The moon was hidden behind a swathe of clouds tonight, but its blurry outline still glowed right through them.

The wind howled outside, shaking any trees that dotted the fields around the road. It was a sound that never, never failed to be eerie. As if the breeze was promising anyone who dared have shelter right now that, if the elements couldn’t get them, something (or someone) else certainly would.

Case in point: tonight’s target, whose hideout was apparently only fifteen minutes away from the forest that grew near the edge of the Cove Port Inlet’s city limits.

The same forest the Murdock would be driving through, sooner or later.

“...Did you really stab that guy with a broken broomstick?” Murdock blurted, tilting his head to the side, a curious smirk gracing his features.

Caliban rolled his shoulders, baring his teeth in a sharp, shiny grin. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wait, what?” The Newcomer gasped, excited energy flooding back into their eyes. They leaned closer, bracing red-gloved hands against the back of the front seats, glancing back and forth between their mentor and his accomplice.

“A broomstick can do that kind of damage? Seriously?” They demanded, much more out of astonishment than doubt.

“Sure!” Caliban insisted. He then nodded to Murdock, asking, “Hasn’t he taught you about improvising by now?”

“Well, yeah, but I guess I just thought about the more obvious things,” The Newcomer explained. "Like…golf-clubs! Since they have so much metal weight on one end, y’know? No doubt getting beaten with one of those would hurt like hell. But…wow. A broomstick as a makeshift spear?”

A rich, oily laugh seeped into the air as Murdock playfully elbowed the cannibal beside him. “Okay, now you’ve gotta tell them everything. Give us the full play-by-play.”

“All the gory details?” Caliban hummed, chortling right along.

Murdock tried to scoff, but he was still distracted by the way his mentee’s eyes widened in time with an inquisitive smile.

Caliban couldn’t blame him—it was nice to see a killer-in-training give off the same vibes as an eager student.

With that, the three of them drove off into the night, the atmosphere around them full of chatting, laughter, and of course, the promise of eventual murder.

___

@sammys-magical-au @lexusinsannus @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0 @yourannoyinglittlesistersteph

It’s here, ITS FINALLY HERE

WHOOHOO @wouldntyou-liketoknow

This silent comic epilogue on my side seems to be a little bittersweet, no real conclusions for the crew for what the hell happened, but everyone is safe (the important ones are at least lmao) Caliban’s hair is different cuz of his tussle with Mad, he looks good tho- @crazy-obsessed-enby @iswmperson @lexusinsannus

Mike will be extremely loopy and sleepy, but when wasn’t he like that? lol Abby is just happy that her brother and Ness are safe, and Jack may or may not be a little upset he didn’t get to use his shotgun on somebody.

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