#is this me trying to take a glitch/exploit that was never intentional a little too seriously. yes.

[elissastillstands]

HOMECOMING: on Minthara's return to the Underdark

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 5,408 Relationships: Minthara Baenre & Tav Additional Tags: Religious Discussion, the Underdark, Pre-Relationship

Excerpt: A casting of Silence would require trust, and trust is just as much a fantasy as an end to her exile. But Minthara imagines it nonetheless: stepping silently over the threshold, back to the realm she called her own for centuries. Breathing in its air, seeing its lambent blooms again, without feeling the pangs of a sinner's transformation. She imagines sitting beneath sussur branches and feeling whole again, even if only for a moment. Once she starts imagining, she cannot stop.

A homecoming without pain. A boon without a cost. A glittering, impossible thing.

Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61167520

[archived-gtronpa-account]

Hey @impytricky I saw a post of yours (I'll try to link it here when I find it again) about how annoyed you were to see Gonta 'fans' talking about how Kokichi should've died in chap 4 ! I agree with that and I just wanted to say, first, I'm glad I never stumbled across something like this, second,,, aah

Now, I love Kokichi and Gonta as much as the next person, and not the 'pure cinnamon roll Gonta' but the boy who's intellect is severely underestimated, who constantly gets babied for absolutely no reason and feels extremely inferior to his peers as a result. I like Kokichi and Gonta's relationship, how you can often find them spending their free time together (which I don't remember seeing in a previous game? I'm not sure) and how Kokichi (despite popular belief for some reason?) Was the one to treat him best in how he understood how smart Gonta really was and trusted him- like how he took his word about seeing tiny bugs and didn't brush it off as 'Gonta idiot' like the rest of the class. Grumble grumble.

Aaa but I'm not gonna go on a tangent for this since I know ur blog and I think we're on the same line regarding those two!

I just wanted to share an idea I had like, right as I was watching Gonta's execution for the first time, an execution for Kokichi in chapter 4!

Like, Kaito voted for Kokichi in the trial. But imagine if maybe Maki had joined him- like how she always sides with Kaito in scrum debate after he learns her real talent (I think? I'm not sure about this info) or if Tsumugi had voted for him to spice things up. And if for some reason, Kokichi had kept no rational sense at the end of that trial and was just completely crushed under the weight of his emotions and decided to vote for himself since he couldn't bring himself to vote for Gonta, even if too many people voted for him and he became the blackened right at that moment he really wouldn't care anymore and at least their plan would have worked and he wouldn't've had to live with his sin.

Anyway, that makes 3 votes for Kokichi, and the player's vote! So yeah I think it's abundantly clear now that I'm going for an alternate route where you -the player- vote for Kokichi and both he and Gonta are blackened. I've seen takes on this scenario and so far haven't found the gem among the stones- especially now that I'm imagining those Gonta 'fans' posts wanting to kill Ko out of spite, yikes. I just wanted to share my thoughts with a fan who's got taste wink wonk ;]

So: Monokuma stays unclear about the two blackeneds tho and just drags Gonta gets taken to his execution, except that unlike the normal version this time there's a those lock things on the metal chains and Kokichi jumps in to try to lockpick those and free Gonta.

Haha I've already got the scenario somewhere written I'm feeling a lil lazy lemme just copy paste it.

So imagine: Gonta is taken to be punished. He's attached to the pole and Monokuma walks in and the execution song starts. But then Kokichi runs in in front of Gonta and alter ego and fumbles with the chains to try and free him, Gonta panics and urges him to go back and not die and he's not the murderer and Gonta can't die knowing he couldn't even protect his classmate one last time only because of those chains. Such despair! Kokichi doesn't listen and desperately tries to get rid of the chains and pick the many locks one by one. Monokuma starts shooting the bugs at them and Gonta is still struggling to try to get Kokichi to move out of the way and Kokichi is growing nauseous from the bug stings and his face gets blue then purple in Danganronpa fashion and Monophanie's stomach grows bigger and bigger and just then Kokichi finds a last lock hidden between the chains he lockpicks it with shaky hands- but Monophanie's stomach bursts open and the lock clicks and right as it falls in Kokichi's hands the giant bug bursts out of Monophanie. Gonta pushes the chains off his arms and legs, falls to the ground, limbs finally free, and jumps in front of Kokichi with his back to the bug to protect him, but right as he's about to push him out of the way of danger the giant bug strikes them both, its his claw digs in their abdomens and they both fall to the ground. After a beat the wooden pole creaks and falls on their on top of their bodies with a heavy thump. Monokuma looks with disgust at the bodies still twitching a little and the nasty bug on top and he throws a match on the pole and everything catches on fire. The fire crackles and the music fades out and the image cuts to alter ego Gonta at their feet looking sad before his screen glitches and goes black and a dark grey puff of smoke comes out of it.

(Dramatic much, I know, but I'm a sucker for despair and tragedy.)

After that you get a shocked text from Shuichi who doesn't understand why Kokichi did that and something like how till the very end he confused them all with his lies (nothing much too grand and emotional, your typical killing game shuichi after chap 4 talking here). After that you get a weird disturbing ending like that of dr1, with a last CG of all the students aged up smiling at a camera, Maki and Shuichi holding up Kaito's portrait since he died of his disease, and with that awful music to disturb you further at the weird image and to really rub it in that you fucked up by being spiteful and voting Kokichi, bad choice you silly player.

I just kinda think it's a cool response to those who could hate Kokichi and get petty and vote for him- only to have a bad ending as a result and a surprise regarding Kokichi's character. I also thought of it as more of a Kokichi's execution, kinda like how it would have Kokichi elements: lockpicking, his leadership quality and how he puts his people before himself and is pretty selfless, also willingly putting himself in front of Gonta so he doesn't get bug stings- which is cool with Kokichi disliking bugs. And just how by being a petty hater you give Kokichi a somewhat peaceful death where he doesn't live with his sins, but you the player get a bad end instead as a result. On Gonta's side, I just like the despair of him ultimately dying unable to protect his friend.

All in all, I just thought it'd be a cool take on chap 4, especially with how… tasteless Gonta's execution feels to me. I also kinda just like this as a Kokichi execution that exploits some of his aspects well enough without being overly dramatic- like the many popular fan excutions I've seen that have him on lie detector forced to tell the truth about his intentions and how he cares about his friends and yadda yadda simp stuff- like, you should be able to see a Dr character's execution and not be able to tell if this character is important or not based on that alone; executions don't discriminate between the popular and the lame, so I think this is a fitting enough execution for Kokichi that works for his character, isn't too lame but isn't too grandiose. This has it's flaws for sure, like how that ending doesn't fit the fictional world reveal of chap 6 and some minor details, but ah, eh, uhm, you know.

I'm a sucker for discussions I'd love to hear your thoughts on this! Since you too have a respectable good view of Gonta and I think I saw a post about you thinking of a Kokichi execution? Aaa you know whatever I'm getting awkward now—–-

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 12

“...With Some Unexpected Additions”

[Previous|Next]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The Nerf gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“ No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ. ”Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click .

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

Shing .

“I told you scalpels vere good for more zen just surgery!”

“Oh, shut up! Take care of Jack while I deal with the Glitch Bitch.”

“h᷊O̓w̶ d̍A͇r᷈E̖ y̶OͅU͎?!?”

“Don’t even think about moving, man. Try me.”

Whatever hold Anti’s puppet strings had had over him was beginning to dissipate, the cords themselves no longer as tight and restraining as they once were. He could feel them falling away from his body, as though they were no longer attached to the person that had wielded them before. Jack staggered, groaning, and he felt a pair of hands lightly grip his arms to stop him from falling over.

“Easy Jack, easy,” a voice cropped up from right in front of him, a foreign accent adding an odd flavor to the words. “Slow down. Zose strings can really affect ze mind, even if used for mere moments. Take it from me. I vent through it once und it vasn’t a fun time…”

Jack dragged his eyes open, fighting back toward some semblance of control - and his eyes widened almost comically, a startled noise escaping him.

He was staring at himself. Or, more accurately, a version of himself. The glasses, the smirk, the concerned eyes, the familiar white coat.

“Sch-Schneep?!” Jack stammered. He felt as though he might just topple over from the shock of everything after all.

Jack’s eyes flicked upward, past the Good Doctor’s shoulder, to seek out Anti - and what he saw drew a sharp gasp past his lips.

Chase Brody, the trickshot master himself, was going head-to-head against the glitch demon, Nerf gun drawn and determination in his gaze. Anti was glaring at him with all the rage of hell burning in his eyes, and as Jack watched, he drew back his knife with the intent of landing a quick, painful attack on his taunter. Chase just shrugged and sighed.

“I warned you not to move, dude.”

Chase pulled the trigger, his gun still aimed at Anti’s head.

But it wasn’t a normal foam disc that left the gun’s chamber. It looked the same, at a glance, but there was something more to it - because instead of bouncing harmlessly off of Anti’s chest like Jack’s had, the disc collided with Anti’s skull and sent his image scattering into thousands of glitching pixels in a burst of bright, Nerf-green light. Anti staggered back, his image reforming, and when he did a deep, fury-laced scowl had set in across his features.

Oh, Chase had pissed off the wrong demon.

Anti snarled and dashed forward with his knife at the ready, but Chase had been expecting it. He dove right, rolling with practiced ease over the coffee table and landing in a crouch on the other side. He aimed again - had he even reloaded? When had he reloaded? Did he even need to? - and shot twice, hitting Anti’s shoulder and leg in turn. Both collision points exploded into static-filled distortions like Anti’s head had before, reforming just as quickly and with just as little effect as the first shot.

But it was still slowing him down. It was holding him back. It was hurting him, in a way, and Jack’s jaw dropped.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Jack!” Henrik snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face, drawing his attention. “Vhere is Sam?”

“Sam–?” Jack mouthed the name, his thoughts still horribly fuzzy from whatever the hell Anti’s strings had done to him. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of cobwebs. Sam...Sam?

Sam!

“A box!” Jack’s eyes snapped open and he pointed across the room, both his and Henrik’s gazes following his finger. “Jewelry box. Anti locked him inside.”

“Scheisse!” Henrik swore under his breath and ran across the room toward the box, his coat fanning out behind him while he left Jack to clutch at the nearby bookshelf for support. His legs felt shaky, his head still buzzing. Fucking hell…

The room around him was nothing but chaos, too much noise and movement for him to fully comprehend all of it. He caught bits and pieces, his eyes darting between Chase and Anti’s rapidly-moving forms, and Henrik who was crouched before the chair in the corner.

Chase did some sort of parkour move off the couch, one foot planting firmly on the cushions and the other pushing off of the wall behind it. He spun in the air, diving over Anti’s swiping knife and barely avoiding getting slashed in the side.

Almost.

Chase hissed and tumbled across the living room floor in a sloppy version of what looked like a practiced roll, teeth gritted in pain and his free hand clutching at his thigh.

“Shit! Fuck!” Chase hissed, pounding once against the floor with the fist still clutching his Nerf gun. He shot a glare at Anti from beneath the brim of his hat, snarling in response to Anti’s shit-eating grin and his glitching giggle. It seemed to spur him into action again, scrambling to his knees and bringing his red-stained hand up to grip his weapon more steadily, aiming again. “Fuckin’ bastard!”

Chase fired, the green shot piercing through Anti’s shoulder and drawing a distorted cry of pain from the demon. Chase smirked.

”Hah!” he taunted, standing up onto slightly unsteady feet and taking a staggered step backwards. “That’ll teach ya not to mess with Chase Brody!”

Anti snarled, clutching at his shoulder as its broken pixels reformed, this time a little slower than before.

"I w̉ou̚ḷḍn̄'̣t̮ b̎e̞ so̠ co᷈cky̓, i̴f̌ I we͛r̵e ỵo͗u͖, de̬a᷊dbeåt̘.”

Even from across the room, Jack could see Chase stiffen at the word. His confidence seemed to wane, the hold on his gun going a little slack, and there was a tightness behind his eyes that Jack recognized. Deadbeat dad. The exact thing Chase never wanted to be, and the one thing - whether it was true or not - that he regretted most.

Was that all it would take for Anti to get to him? One, two words?

Jack watched the man with bated breath. He could see the way Chase’s jaw tensed, the way his nostrils flared and his grip tightened, the way his eyes narrowed...and the way he planted his feet, training his gun back on Anti even as the demon glitched closer and closer, darting forward across the room. No, he wouldn’t be shaken so easily. Chase took two shots straight through the Demon’s chest...but this time Anti was expecting it. Anti was ready. He flickered out of existence just long enough to miss Chase’s discs, grinning wickedly, teeth sharp - but a third unexpected shot hit its mark.

When Chase had pulled the trigger this time, he hadn’t stopped at one or two discs. No. Again and again, unending, his aim shifting with each pull, he rained neon green ammunition down on the ever-approaching monster that seemed hell bent on taking him out for good. Shoulder, leg, chest, head, arm, shoulder–

Anti was hard to see clearly at this point, his image a flurry of exploding and reforming distortions of pixels in the air. He was speaking, shouting, something that Jack couldn’t quite make out through the fuzziness in his head and the level of distortion Anti’s voice had reached.

“Who’s cocky now, huh?!” Chase snapped. This wasn’t the same teasing banter he’d been using before, his tone more serious. “Eat Nerf, glitch bitch!” Anti was only steps away now, so at the very last second Chase dove to the right and landed in a crouch near Jack’s feet. He shot a grin up at Jack - holy shit, it was like looking in a fucking mirror - before glancing past him toward Henrik.

“How’s that box comin’, Doc?”

“Nearly zhere,” Henrik shot back over his shoulder. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and smirked. “Anti’s no idiot. Vhatever zis lock is, it vas made to be impossible to pick.”

“Plan B?” Chase asked, refocusing on Anti, who was finally regaining some semblance of solidity. “Or should we just skip all the way to Plan F-This and get the hell out of here?”

Jack had to admit that Anti looked a little worse for wear. He didn’t look any less angry than before, but a light sheen of sweat could be seen at his hairline, and the scar at his neck had begun to bleed. The battle was beginning to take its toll. Even so, Jack couldn’t help but gulp and press himself flush against the bookshelf he’d been using for support, as though he might be able to phase through it and hide between the books and photos and video game memorabilia that was kept there. Chase seemed to notice his distress and stood, planting himself firmly between Jack and Anti with his Nerf gun as their shield.

“Vhat do you take me for, a moron?” Henrik joked, chuckling. “Of course I have a Plan B! Zhere is alvays a loophole to exploit, I know zat better zen anyvone.”

“Well are you gonna tell me the loophole, or would you rather leave me hanging while I’m facing down a murderous computer virus?”

“Oh, quit your vhining,” Henrik muttered. He turned back to the jewelry box, from which Jack could hear quiet squeaks and movement from Sam. Sam was okay. He was just...trapped. “I’m removing ze hinges instead. Just keep him distracted until I can–”

“G̈҉e̦͍᷁Ť o̭Ȗt̙ o̵̹̦F͔ m̵͕Y ͘͜wA̷̵y᷀!”

Anti had finally managed to reform fully, appearing rather suddenly right in front of Chase. Wide-eyed, gasping sharply, Chase brought his gun up to fire again – but Anti was faster. He grabbed Chase’s wrist and yanked harshly to the side, twisting Chase’s arm roughly and drawing a pained shout from the man.

“E̶no̻u͙gh̫ wi̅t̆h͗ y͜òu̸r pLa̰S̶t̙I̼c͐ t͠Oy̦S͑. Fi᷀r᷊s͖t M̤a̅r̠k̻ip̮l͊ie᷁r̝, th͛ên͖ J̼a̓c̲k͂...a᷊n᷇d́ nͅö́w̔ ẙo͉u . I’m᷇ s͍I̯c̅K oF̈́ i͛T!”

A flurry of confusion crossed Jack’s mind. Mark…? Mark had never used a Nerf gun around Anti. Hell, he hadn’t even met Anti. Had he? But...his musings could wait. Anti wasn’t playing games, not anymore. The Nerf gun clattered the ground, and as Chase grit his teeth, Anti’s mouth twisted into a sick smile.

He had the upper hand now, and he wasn’t about to let it go.

Anti’s grip tightened and he wrenched Chase away from his protective position in front of Jack, sending Chase tumbling across the ground and out of his way. The space between Jack and Anti seemed to vanish in an instant and Jack’s vision was filled with the sharp, angry grin of a dark-eyed demon. A hand - a tight, painful, semi-solid hand - closed around Jack’s throat, and he could have sworn he felt his heart stop as fear flooded his system.

Not again. Not again. Please, not again…

White spots danced in the corner of his vision, blurring the edges of Anti’s face, due in part to fear alone. He knew what Anti was doing, now. Anti didn’t want him dead. He wanted him under his control. He wanted to take over. And if he lost consciousness, if he wasn’t awake to fight against that control, it would be so easy, too easy, for Anti to...to...what? What was the end goal here?

Jack couldn’t even think straight anymore, his thoughts a fuzzy mess of static. He brought a hand up to grip feebly at Anti’s wrist, the other reaching out to push at the glitch’s chest, his actions weak and sluggish. Distant words floated through his mind, so near yet so far away. He couldn’t focus enough to figure out who was saying them, or how real they were.

“Doc, c’mon! Hurry up! He’s not letting me get close enough to–”

“I know, I know! I’m almost zhere, just one more–”

“No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch... ͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu͕, Jaͅc̻k…”

Not enough air, can’t breath, it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts–

‘Anti you gotta stop! Please!’

Sam’s voice rang through the room, and a blur of green crossed in front of Jack’s vision. The grip around his throat went slack, not leaving completely but giving him enough room to fucking breathe. He gulped down air like it was the sweetest thing he had tasted, and when he refocussed on the scene before him, he saw Sam sitting on Anti’s shoulder. His little eye was full of emotion, pleading quietly with all the adorable sadness of a kicked puppy. And Anti–

..Jack almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If he didn’t know any better, he might just go so far as to say there was a softness in the way Anti was looking down at the little eyeball, an odd sort of affection and guilt that couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way.

‘Please don’t do this,’ Sam was saying quietly, a shaking unsteadiness to his word. ‘Don’t hurt Jack. I love him very much and I need him, and he...I don’t like seeing him get hurt. It makes me sad, and I...I don’t wanna lose my D...family. He’s my family. So...so please? Let him go?’

Click .

“Just listen to the kid, man.” Chase had recovered his Nerf gun and was standing in the middle of the room, his aim trained on the back of Anti’s head. “Don’t make him cry.”

“You’re outnumbered.” Henrik this time, standing just off Chase’s shoulder with his scalpel in hand, tightening the blade where it sat in the handle, stern eyes peering over his glasses at the pair. “Zhere are four of us, und only one of you. Zat could change, ze longer you’re here. You’re already vorn out, I can see it...and who knows who else might show up next…?”

Jack could see a vein in Anti’s neck pulsing, his jaw tight and eyes narrowed. For a moment, Jack thought the demon might turn them down, might defy them all and go on with his plan anyway. But then Anti’s eyes fell on Sam again...and something in his expression changed. He snarled and shoved away from the bookshelf, leaving Jack to slouch against it in utter-fucking-relief before glitching away in a flurry of static, electric sparks, and distorted pixels. Sam was left tumbling down from where Anti’s shoulder had been, barely catching himself in the air before hitting the carpet.

“T᷊hi̘s̴ i᷁sn't̠ t̔h͏e l͟a͚s̏t͗ y͚oͅủ'l̙l᷁ s͎e̐e̹ őf̆ m͚e̦.”

With those final words the tension in the room dissipated rather suddenly, and Jack slid down to the floor to sit back against the bookcase and catch his breath. His throat was on fire and he coughed, wincing, trying to swallow in an attempt to sooth the renewed soreness. It didn’t really help.

‘Jack!’

Before Jack knew what was happening, he was bombarded by a tiny green projectile, Sam nuzzling up against his cheek and ‘cuddling’ every part of Jack’s face that he could reach.

“I’m–” Oh, god his throat hurt. Jack winced again and brought up a hand to catch the overactive eyeball, tugging him gently by the tail until he was floating where Jack could see him. He smiled weakly, and this time he let his thoughts speak for him.

‘I’m okay, Sam.’ He smiled softly. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks to you. You saved me, buddy. You’re so, so brave…’

Sam giggled quietly at the compliment, his frantic movements slowing for the moment. Jack could still feel the worry that Sam was feeling, a tiny beacon of distress in the back of his mind...but it wasn’t quite so strong as it had been before. He let Sam go and the little eyeball immediately snuggled up against Jack’s chest where he could feel his guardian’s heartbeat, strong as ever if not a little rapid.

“Not to interrupt zis wunderbar little moment,” Henrik spoke up. “But I believe zhere is somebody else ve should be helping?”

‘Oh, yeah! Where’s Mark and Tim?’

It was as if an electric shock had jolted him as the realization struck.

“Dark!” Jack’s words came out pained, hoarse, wheezy, his voice not all there. He winced and gritted his teeth, struggling to his feet and fighting past the flames in his throat. “Dark... ngh ...h-he’s outside. Mark went...car. The car.”

Chase and Henrik exchanged a look, and Chase nodded.

“I’m on it.”

He was out the door before Jack had even found his footing. Jack made to follow him, more than just a little worried about his best friend, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him where he stood.

“Nein, you’re not going anyvhere,” Henrik scolded, shaking his head. He guided Jack over to the couch, ignoring his protesting gestures and looks, and forced him down onto it. “You’re injured, und I’m not about to let you go running off into anozher fight so quickly. God, you’re just like Jackie…”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, remembered his throat, and thought better of it in favor of flipping off Henrik with all the impudence of a bratty teenager. The good doctor huffed and sat on the coffee table across from Jack, shaking his head.

“Chase can handle himself, Jack. I trust him vith zis. Ja?” He pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned forward toward his patient. “Now...vhere vere you injured…?”

Mark’s head was pounding, his eyes screwed shut and his nails clutching at his scalp so tightly he couldn’t tell if he had broken the skin or not. Images rushed past in his mind’s eye, rapid and flashing and horrifying all at once.

It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

“Have you given up yet?”

Dark’s voice echoed against the inside of his skull, drawing a pained whimper from Mark, who had yet to change positions from when he had curled up in a ball on his knees at the start of it all. It’s not real , he kept reminding himself, even as he saw Amy’s pained, pleading eyes staring back at him from his own imagination. It’s not real, and it will never happen.

It was the only thing holding him together at this point, that and the thought that somewhere inside the apartment, Jack was counting on him, counting on his help. He needed to fight this, fight back.

Think of something happy.

The little idea that popped into his head sounded remarkably like Tim, which wasn’t too much of a surprise really. Tim was a voice of wonderful positivity in his life, a small beacon of cheerfulness that he could always depend on to brighten his day. So to say that his internal positivity was voiced by the little box? It made complete sense.

Think of something happy .

Himself and Amy, going out for ice cream. Ethan and Tyler, the three of them, laughing through their lines in a short film. A take for the blooper reel, clearly. Kathryn’s teasing remarks. Chica, giving him happy puppy kisses. Himself and Jack, laughing over Spaceballs and Sea of Thieves, acting like idiots and loving every second of it.

Kissing Amy goodnight.

It was helping. It wasn’t lightening the pressure by a lot, but holy shit was it helping. Mark felt some semblance of clarity begin to return to his mind, regaining a sense of awareness that had been lost to him in the sudden onslaught of Dark’s mental attack.

Mark lifted his head slightly, trying to locate Tim somewhere against the concrete backdrop the driveway provided. Instead, dark polished shoes came into his view, the ground crunching ever-so-slightly beneath their soles, and Mark stiffened. He saw the man - no, he wasn’t a man, he was a demon - crouch before him, watching him. Watching. Observing.

“Trying to fight back, are you?” That voice again, smooth and deep and haunting and charming all at once. Echoing. Looping. Belittling. “I’m surprised...and here I thought a spineless, self-serving, self-worshiping monster like you, wouldn’t have enough humanity left in him to find any light in such a dark–”

“Sir?”

Another pair of shoes had appeared near Dark, just beyond him, these ones dark grey sneakers. They were neat, crisp, unworn in any way...and Mark had a sinking feeling he knew who this new arrival might be.

“What is it, Google? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Mark hated being right sometimes.

“Antisepticeye has vacated the premises.”

Mark froze.

“He would like to inform you that issues arose and things did not go according to plan. There were...as he said, “more players on the board” that he had not anticipated. Anti would like to discuss this matter in more detail, but for tonight, he is no longer in need of our assistance.”

A long pause followed the android’s words, and Mark felt both relief and heart-stopping anticipation in that moment. Anti was gone. Jack was okay, probably. But...what did that mean for him? Would Dark leave, just like that? Or–?

“Pity.” The word stopped Mark’s careening train of thought in an instant. “And here I was hoping I’d be able to break our friend Mark here before the night was out. Ah, well...perhaps another time .”

The pressure in his mind vanished in an instant, leaving Mark to gasp sharply and run his hands through his hair with closed eyes. The relief was absolutely monumental. The vice that had been keeping him in constant pain was gone, and all that remained was a throbbing headache that Mark was sure he could alleviate with some Advil. He sat up, slowly, his gaze dragging upward until both Darkiplier and Google were fully in his sights.

It was like going to a wax museum, where all the wax figures were supposed to be you. They all looked pretty damn close, but there was something... off about them, because the weren’t exact copies.

Plus the fact that one of those wax figures was actually an android, and the other made it look like you were staring through red-n-blue 3D glasses, and neither of the wax figures was actually made of wax…

...yeah, okay, maybe Dark had screwed up his head more than he’d first assumed.

“Is it wise to simply leave him behind as he is?”

“What damage could he possibly do?” Dark quirked an eyebrow at the android. “He knew I existed beforehand; it wouldn’t take a genius to assume others have surfaced as well. This changes nothing . Besides...it isn’t as if we can’t find him again after this evening.”

Dark eyes that held a sinister promise locked on Mark’s, and a shiver went down the man’s spine.

“We have eyes everywhere. He can’t hide, not from us.”

Pounding, running footsteps interrupted what Mark was sure would have been a rather chilling closure. (As if Dark’s last statement hadn’t been chilling enough already.) All three heads whipped around to see Jack bolting for the driveway, the Nerf gun Mark had been playing with all week held tight in his grip. With a cocky grin and more determination than Mark thought was fitting for such an action, Jack aimed his weapon at Dark and cocked his head to the side.

“Game over, Edgelord,” he taunted. Something about the way he was acting, the way he was talking , made Mark do a double-take. “Your homeboy Anti just ran off with his tail between his legs. I think it’s high time you did the same.”

Mark squinted at his friend. When the hell had Jack had time to change his clothes…?

“Should I neutralize him, sir?” Google’s eyes had taken on a red hue, the logo on his shirt glowing brighter than before, but Dark held up a hand to stop his colleague.

“That won’t be necessary, Google.” Dark folded his hands behind his back, smirking at Jack and casting a humorous glance toward the toy he was wielding. “As it is, my friend and I were already on our way out. No need for any further casualties. Not this time.”

Jack nodded to Google, not yet lowering his gun.

“Your Brobot seems to think otherwise.”

“Don’t mind him. It’s just in his programming.” Dark cast a sideways look of contempt toward Mark, still kneeling on the ground, and his lip curled in disgust. “Until next time, old friend. ”

Then both Dark and Google vanished into wisps of black and grey smoke, leaving no trace behind, no hint that they had ever been there at all.

“Oh thank fuck ...”

Mark groaned and dragged both hands over his face, rubbing the worry lines away and trying to massage his headache into non-existence. He heard footsteps approaching him, but they didn’t quite reach him. Instead he heard Jack veer a little to the left and stop there, an odd sound of plastic-on-plastic reaching his ears. When he let his hands fall into his lap and opened his eyes he realized what it was.

Jack had clipped the Nerf gun into a holster attached along the back of his belt - as though that was were it had always belonged, but where the hell had it even come from? - and he was crouched on the driveway reaching for something that was just out of sight around the front end of the car.

“Oh, buddy...what did he do to you?”

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. Who…?

Tim .

Mark stumbled to his feet to get closer, peering over Jack’s shoulder, and sure enough the tiny box was unconscious in his friend’s hands. He didn’t look hurt, just...asleep. Knocked out. Mark reached over Jack to take Tim from him, his hands as gentle as ever as he cradled his little biscuit against his chest protectively.

“Dark...he said he wasn’t here to hurt Tim,” Mark muttered, glancing up at Jack. “I don’t think - I think he’s just asleep.”

“I hope so,” Jack nodded, tugging at the brim of his hat and giving Tim another thoughtful glance before standing and turning his gaze back to Mark. “You good though, bro? Mister My Chemical Romance didn’t hurt ya too badly?”

“Not really, no,” Mark shrugged. He started to shake his head too, but the action made his head pound and he immediately decided never to do that again. Instead he stared at Jack, bewilderment flooding his features. “Wait, me? What about you?! Last time Anti was here he nearly killed you, Jack! How did you even–”

The thought was cut off by a rather unexpected laugh from Jack. The Irishman’s expression was bright, humorous, and the laughter that left him was loud and genuine, but the fact that he was laughing at all left Mark staring at him in baffled silence.

“Bro - dude. Oh my god, no.” Jack shook his head, eyes sparkling, and he chuckled as he went on: “Mark, I’m not Jack.”

Um. What?

“You’re not–”

“I’m Chase,” Not-Jack grinned. “Chase Brody.”

Mark blinked, and several things lined up in his head in that moment.

Change of clothes. Nerf gun. Nerf holster . ‘Brobot’ and ‘Edgelord’ and ‘Your homeboy Anti’ and–

“Oh my god, you’re the trick shot guy.”

“Yeah!” Chase’s grin widened and he shot Mark a pair of finger guns. “Exactly! Bro Average, trick shot master! Nice to meet ya, man!”

Mark’s expression was hovering somewhere between amusement and stupefaction.

“Of...course you are. And, uh...how...how many…?”

“How many Egos are there right now?” Chase snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just three, for Jack. I dunno how many Evil Twins you’ve got lurkin’ around, but it’s just me and Henrik and the ol’ Glitch Bitch on Jack’s end. Hen’s taking care of Jack inside right now.”

“Henrik…?”

“Doctor Schneep.”

“Right, okay. The...the German guy.”

“Heh, sure, yeah.” Chase snorted and glanced back toward the apartment, then around at the windows of the other residence in the area. “...actually, we might wanna head in before anyone starts askin’ more questions than they already will be, yeah?”

“Uh…” Mark blinked and shook himself mentally, still struggling to wrap his head around just how similar Chase and Jack looked . He supposed seeing Google, Dark, and himself in the same place probably looked equally surreal. “Yeah. Good point.”

“Jack, sit still! Leichtsinnig… ” Henrik muttered the word beneath his breath, then glared half-heartedly at Jack over his glasses. “Reckless boy.”

“Hey–!” Jack’s protest came out wheezy and he winced, scowling in annoyed silence instead.

Jack’s sweatshirt had been carefully wrestled off of him not too long ago, and the German doctor was already examining the rather impressive bruises marking Jack’s shoulder. The collision with the television cabinet hadn’t broken the skin, but the area was already turning a deep red color and it hurt to the touch. Jack bit back a whimper as Henrik carefully felt around the area with prodding fingers. He shot the medic a wary look.

“Are you sure y-you actually...know what you’re doing?” he asked, whispering instead. “You don’t have a real medical license…”

“Hush!” Henrik scowled at the YouTuber, his eyes narrowing. “I may not have one, but I vent to medical school same as anyvone else in my field! Ze only reason I don’t have a license is because I–”

The door opened then, drawing the attention of both men and Sam, who had been snuggled up in Jack’s lap. Sam let out a quiet squeak and went airborne, darting across the apartment to snuggle against Mark’s cheek happily.

“Seán?”

“Mark!”

The name hurt to say, the word coming out hoarse and quiet and pained, but Jack’s joy and relief was there nonetheless. He swatted away Henrik’s protests and shoved off the couch, drawing his best friend into a tight hug.

“Fuck, man…” he whispered the words against Mark’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.

Jack ignored the pain in his shoulder, just letting himself revel in the fact that they were both alive, they were both safe, and they had both made it through whatever the hell had happened tonight. Mark was hugging his friend back just as tightly….but with only one arm.

“Do I even wanna know what the hell Anti did up here while I was gone?”

“...probably not,” Jack admitted quietly. “An’ you’d probably say the same ‘bout whatever Dark did to you outside.”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through Mark’s chest and Jack finally stepped back, a weak smile playing across his lips.

“Well...you’re not wrong, I would say that,” Mark shrugged, and Jack saw him bring his hands against his chest, holding something there. “But...uh. We kind of need to keep each other in the loop, don’t we? So we can–”

Mark’s gaze trailed downward and he broke off, his eyes widening and his jaw tensing.

“...is that...new?” he asked.

Jack knew what Mark was referring to without even having to ask.

The bruises on his throat, he was sure, looked worse than ever, the old ones from before still a sickly green-yellow while the fresh ones from this evening were a brilliant red. Plus he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so the massive pattern of bruises on his shoulder was fully visible too.

Unable to give him a proper verbal response, Jack just nodded with a grimace. A vein pulsed in Mark’s neck and he seemed to have to force himself to look away.

“VHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU VERE BLEEDING?!”

“Oh my god, Hen, fucking chill, dude. It’s not that bad–”

“JACK VHERE IS ZE FIRST AID KIT??!?!”

“Henrik, for fuck’s sake!”

Jack shot a look to Chase, who was now actively trying to avoid Henrik’s healing warpath while a red stain of blood slowly soaked the thigh of his jeans. Oh...Jack’s mouth fell into a small circle and his eyebrows rose...that was where Anti had caught Chase with his knife earlier, wasn’t it? In the heat of the moment, the chaos of everything, Jack had almost forgotten that it had happened at all.

‘Mister M-Mark? What happened to Tim…?’

Then Sam’s voice chimed in, quiet and worried. Jack saw Mark wince and look down into his hands, where Jack now realized an unconscious Tim was curled safe again Mark’s chest.

“He’s...he’ll be alright, Sam. He’s just...asleep…”

“Vhere is ze sewing kit–?!”

‘You sure he’s gonna be okay?’

“Stop! I’m fucking fine! Dammit, Henrik, you’re not my fucking wife– !”

Everything sounded too loud, the entire room an endless cacophony of noise, and Jack just wanted it to stop. He wanted quiet. His head was still pounding, still spinning, from everything that had happened since Robin had called, and all he wanted was to sit down, talk it over, drink some tea, and go the fuck to sleep. But he could only do that if everyone would just–

“SHUT UP!”

Jack fell into a coughing fit, his throat screaming at him for raising his voice to such a level after the beating his neck had taken...but it did the trick. The room had quieted, all eyes snapping to him, the expressions he received on the other end rather mixed. Mark looked concerned, Chase was still vaguely pissed, and Henrik had a frantic look in his eyes as though he might explode at any second. Sam let out a little startled squeak and tumbled out of the air, Mark catching him with one hand before the little eyeball even had time to right himself.

“God...okay…” Jack took a deep breath to regain some air and nodded, his voice back down to a whisper. “Okay. So. Mark, you’re good. Sit down an’ take care of the kids.” Mark stifled a chuckled at the comment, and the smallest of smirks twitched at the corner of Chase’s mouth. “Chase, sit the hell down. Let Schneep look at ya. I’ll get the first aid kit - yes, and the sewing kit , I know, Doctor - then I’m makin’ myself some tea, we’re sitting the hell down, and we’re gonna talk about what the fuck just happened.” He threw a weary glance around the room, making sure everyone had heard him. “Got it?”

“Sure thing, man.”

“Ja. Understood.”

Jack looked to Mark last, who still had the same little worried frown creasing his forehead from before, but a bit of that strain had lessened to a degree.

“...yeah. Got it.” Mark managed a tired smile and glanced down to Tim and Sam, still held carefully in his hands, before returning his focus to Jack with a nod. “Thanks, Seán. Go do your thing. I’ve got it handled out here.”

Jack finally smiled then, and some of the tension melted out of his shoulders. He wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t the only one who had to take charge of this absolute circus of a mess. He and Mark were in this together, best friends taking on the world together, and there were others waiting to help out in the wings if things really went sideways. Amy, Kathryn, Robin...maybe Matt. Perhaps Ethan or Tyler too, if they really needed the help. But the fact still remained that he wasn’t in this alone.

So with one last, appreciative smile and a pat on Mark’s shoulder, Jack set about doing what he had tasked himself with. God, he couldn’t wait for tonight to be over.

[A/N] - Well well well...here we are! The other half of the absolute chaos from the previous chapter, finalized here for you all. I'm sure this chapter will bring as many questions as the last, and they won't go unanswered! My apologies for taking longer to get this one out to you. Life's been a little hectic on my end...heh...but I still have inspiration for this story! Don't you worry!

Next chapter, another much-anticipated character will show his face, and while not as much action will be included it'll be just as intriguing.

I hope.

As always, comments and critiques are always accepted! Let me know what you think, and if you notice any spelling or grammar errors please point them out...I don't always catch them all. ^^;;;

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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#SamLives - Pt.12

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

[This story has been edited and reposted on the official #SamLives Tumblr. The new post of Chapter 12 can be found here.]

(There is no difference between this version and the new version of Chapter 12.)

...Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The Nerf gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ.”

Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click.

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

Shing.

“I told you scalpels vere good for more zen just surgery!”

“Oh, shut up! Take care of Jack while I deal with the Glitch Bitch.”

“h᷊O̓w̶ d̍A͇r᷈E̖ y̶OͅU͎?!?”

“Don’t even think about moving, man. Try me.”

Whatever hold Anti’s puppet strings had had over him was beginning to dissipate, the cords themselves no longer as tight and restraining as they once were. He could feel them falling away from his body, as though they were no longer attached to the person that had wielded them before. Jack staggered, groaning, and he felt a pair of hands lightly grip his arms to stop him from falling over.

“Easy Jack, easy,” a voice cropped up from right in front of him, a foreign accent adding an odd flavor to the words. “Slow down. Zose strings can really affect ze mind, even if used for mere moments. Take it from me. I vent through it once und it vasn’t a fun time…”

Jack dragged his eyes open, fighting back toward some semblance of control - and his eyes widened almost comically, a startled noise escaping him.

He was staring at himself. Or, more accurately, a version of himself. The glasses, the smirk, the concerned eyes, the familiar white coat.

“Sch-Schneep?!” Jack stammered. He felt as though he might just topple over from the shock of everything after all.

Jack’s eyes flicked upward, past the Good Doctor’s shoulder, to seek out Anti - and what he saw drew a sharp gasp past his lips.

Chase Brody, the trickshot master himself, was going head-to-head against the glitch demon, Nerf gun drawn and determination in his gaze. Anti was glaring at him with all the rage of hell burning in his eyes, and as Jack watched, he drew back his knife with the intent of landing a quick, painful attack on his taunter. Chase just shrugged and sighed.

“I warned you not to move, dude.”

Chase pulled the trigger, his gun still aimed at Anti’s head.

But it wasn’t a normal foam disc that left the gun’s chamber. It looked the same, at a glance, but there was something more to it - because instead of bouncing harmlessly off of Anti’s chest like Jack’s had, the disc collided with Anti’s skull and sent his image scattering into thousands of glitching pixels in a burst of bright, Nerf-green light. Anti staggered back, his image reforming, and when he did a deep, fury-laced scowl had set in across his features.

Oh, Chase had pissed off the wrong demon.

Anti snarled and dashed forward with his knife at the ready, but Chase had been expecting it. He dove right, rolling with practiced ease over the coffee table and landing in a crouch on the other side. He aimed again - had he even reloaded? When had he reloaded? Did he even need to? - and shot twice, hitting Anti’s shoulder and leg in turn. Both collision points exploded into static-filled distortions like Anti’s head had before, reforming just as quickly and with just as little effect as the first shot.

But it was still slowing him down. It was holding him back. It was hurting him, in a way, and Jack’s jaw dropped.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Jack!” Henrik snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face, drawing his attention. “Vhere is Sam?”

“Sam–?” Jack mouthed the name, his thoughts still horribly fuzzy from whatever the hell Anti’s strings had done to him. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of cobwebs. Sam...Sam?

Sam!

“A box!” Jack’s eyes snapped open and he pointed across the room, both his and Henrik’s gazes following his finger. “Jewelry box. Anti locked him inside.”

“Scheisse!” Henrik swore under his breath and ran across the room toward the box, his coat fanning out behind him while he left Jack to clutch at the nearby bookshelf for support. His legs felt shaky, his head still buzzing. Fucking hell…

The room around him was nothing but chaos, too much noise and movement for him to fully comprehend all of it. He caught bits and pieces, his eyes darting between Chase and Anti’s rapidly-moving forms, and Henrik who was crouched before the chair in the corner.

Chase did some sort of parkour move off the couch, one foot planting firmly on the cushions and the other pushing off of the wall behind it. He spun in the air, diving over Anti’s swiping knife and barely avoiding getting slashed in the side.

Almost.

Chase hissed and tumbled across the living room floor in a sloppy version of what looked like a practiced roll, teeth gritted in pain and his free hand clutching at his thigh.

“Shit! Fuck!” Chase hissed, pounding once against the floor with the fist still clutching his Nerf gun. He shot a glare at Anti from beneath the brim of his hat, snarling in response to Anti’s shit-eating grin and his glitching giggle. It seemed to spur him into action again, scrambling to his knees and bringing his red-stained hand up to grip his weapon more steadily, aiming again. “Fuckin’ bastard!”

Chase fired, the green shot piercing through Anti’s shoulder and drawing a distorted cry of pain from the demon. Chase smirked.

”Hah!” he taunted, standing up onto slightly unsteady feet and taking a staggered step backwards. “That’ll teach ya not to mess with Chase Brody!”

Anti snarled, clutching at his shoulder as its broken pixels reformed, this time a little slower than before.

"I w̉ou̚ḷḍn̄'̣t̮ b̎e̞ so̠ co᷈cky̓, i̴f̌ I we͛r̵e ỵo͗u͖, de̬a᷊dbeåt̘.”

Even from across the room, Jack could see Chase stiffen at the word. His confidence seemed to wane, the hold on his gun going a little slack, and there was a tightness behind his eyes that Jack recognized. Deadbeat dad. The exact thing Chase never wanted to be, and the one thing - whether it was true or not - that he regretted most.

Was that all it would take for Anti to get to him? One, two words?

Jack watched the man with bated breath. He could see the way Chase’s jaw tensed, the way his nostrils flared and his grip tightened, the way his eyes narrowed...and the way he planted his feet, training his gun back on Anti even as the demon glitched closer and closer, darting forward across the room. No, he wouldn’t be shaken so easily. Chase took two shots straight through the Demon’s chest...but this time Anti was expecting it. Anti was ready. He flickered out of existence just long enough to miss Chase’s discs, grinning wickedly, teeth sharp - but a third unexpected shot hit its mark.

When Chase had pulled the trigger this time, he hadn’t stopped at one or two discs. No. Again and again, unending, his aim shifting with each pull, he rained neon green ammunition down on the ever-approaching monster that seemed hell bent on taking him out for good. Shoulder, leg, chest, head, arm, shoulder–

Anti was hard to see clearly at this point, his image a flurry of exploding and reforming distortions of pixels in the air. He was speaking, shouting, something that Jack couldn’t quite make out through the fuzziness in his head and the level of distortion Anti’s voice had reached.

“Who’s cocky now, huh?!” Chase snapped. This wasn’t the same teasing banter he’d been using before, his tone more serious. “Eat Nerf, glitch bitch!” Anti was only steps away now, so at the very last second Chase dove to the right and landed in a crouch near Jack’s feet. He shot a grin up at Jack - holy shit, it was like looking in a fucking mirror - before glancing past him toward Henrik.

“How’s that box comin’, Doc?”

“Nearly zhere,” Henrik shot back over his shoulder. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and smirked. “Anti’s no idiot. Vhatever zis lock is, it vas made to be impossible to pick.”

“Plan B?” Chase asked, refocusing on Anti, who was finally regaining some semblance of solidity. “Or should we just skip all the way to Plan F-This and get the hell out of here?”

Jack had to admit that Anti looked a little worse for wear. He didn’t look any less angry than before, but a light sheen of sweat could be seen at his hairline, and the scar at his neck had begun to bleed. The battle was beginning to take its toll. Even so, Jack couldn’t help but gulp and press himself flush against the bookshelf he’d been using for support, as though he might be able to phase through it and hide between the books and cacti and video game memorabilia that was kept there. Chase seemed to notice his distress and stood, planting himself firmly between Jack and Anti with his Nerf gun as their shield.

“Vhat do you take me for, a moron?” Henrik joked, chuckling. “Of course I have a Plan B! Zhere is alvays a loophole to exploit, I know zat better zen anyvone.”

“Well are you gonna tell me the loophole, or would you rather leave me hanging while I’m facing down a murderous computer virus?”

“Oh, quit your vhining,” Henrik muttered. He turned back to the jewelry box, from which Jack could hear quiet squeaks and movement from Sam. Sam was okay. He was just...trapped. “I’m removing ze hinges instead. Just keep him distracted until I can–”

“G̈҉e̦͍᷁Ť o̭Ȗt̙ o̵̹̦F͔ m̵͕Y ͘wA̷̵y᷀!”

Anti had finally managed to reform fully, appearing rather suddenly right in front of Chase. Wide-eyed, gasping sharply, Chase brought his gun up to fire again – but Anti was faster. He grabbed Chase’s wrist and yanked harshly to the side, twisting Chase’s arm roughly and drawing a pained shout from the man.

“E̶no̻u͙gh̫ wi̅t̆h͗ y͜òu̸r pLa̰S̶t̙I̼c͐ t͠Oy̦S͑. Fi᷀r᷊s͖t M̤a̅r̠k̻ip̮l͊ie᷁r̝, th͛ên͖ J̼a̓c̲k͂...a᷊n᷇d́ nͅö́w̔ ẙo͉u. I’m᷇ s͍I̯c̅K oF̈́ i͛T!”

A flurry of confusion crossed Jack’s mind. Mark…? Mark had never used a Nerf gun around Anti. Hell, he hadn’t even met Anti. Had he? But...his musings could wait. Anti wasn’t playing games, not anymore. The Nerf gun clattered the ground, and as Chase grit his teeth, Anti’s mouth twisted into a sick smile.

He had the upper hand now, and he wasn’t about to let it go.

Anti’s grip tightened and he wrenched Chase away from his protective position in front of Jack, sending Chase tumbling across the ground and out of his way. The space between Jack and Anti seemed to vanish in an instant and Jack’s vision was filled with the sharp, angry grin of a dark-eyed demon. A hand - a tight, painful, semi-solid hand - closed around Jack’s throat, and he could have sworn he felt his heart stop as fear flooded his system.

Not again. Not again. Please, not again…

White spots danced in the corner of his vision, blurring the edges of Anti’s face, due in part to fear alone. He knew what Anti was doing, now. Anti didn’t want him dead. He wanted him under his control. He wanted to take over. And if he lost consciousness, if he wasn’t awake to fight against that control, it would be so easy, too easy, for Anti to...to...what? What was the end goal here?

Jack couldn’t even think straight anymore, his thoughts a fuzzy mess of static. He brought a hand up to grip feebly at Anti’s wrist, the other reaching out to push at the glitch’s chest, his actions weak and sluggish. Distant words floated through his mind, so near yet so far away. He couldn’t focus enough to figure out who was saying them, or how real they were.

“Doc, c’mon! Hurry up! He’s not letting me get close enough to–”

“I know, I know! I’m almost zhere, just one more–”

“No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch...͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu͕, Jaͅc̻k…”

Not enough air, can’t breath, it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts–

‘Anti you gotta stop! Please!’

Sam’s voice rang through the room, and a blur of green crossed in front of Jack’s vision. The grip around his throat went slack, not leaving completely but giving him enough room to fucking breathe. He gulped down air like it was the sweetest thing he had tasted, and when he refocussed on the scene before him, he saw Sam sitting on Anti’s shoulder. His little eye was full of emotion, pleading quietly with all the adorable sadness of a kicked puppy. And Anti–

..Jack almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If he didn’t know any better, he might just go so far as to say there was a softness in the way Anti was looking down at the little eyeball, an odd sort of affection and guilt that couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way.

‘Please don’t do this,’ Sam was saying quietly, a shaking unsteadiness to his word. ‘Don’t hurt Jack. I love him very much and I need him, and he...I don’t like seeing him get hurt. It makes me sad, and I...I don’t wanna lose my D...family. He’s my family. So...so please? Let him go?’

Click.

“Just listen to the kid, man.” Chase had recovered his Nerf gun and was standing in the middle of the room, his aim trained on the back of Anti’s head. “Don’t make him cry.”

“You’re outnumbered.” Henrik this time, standing just off Chase’s shoulder with his scalpel in hand, tightening the blade where it sat in the handle, stern eyes peering over his glasses at the pair. “Zhere are four of us, und only one of you. Zat could change, ze longer you’re here. You’re already vorn out, I can see it...and who knows who else might show up next…?”

Jack could see a vein in Anti’s neck pulsing, his jaw tight and eyes narrowed. For a moment, Jack thought the demon might turn them down, might defy them all and go on with his plan anyway. But then Anti’s eyes fell on Sam again...and something in his expression changed. He snarled and shoved away from the bookshelf, leaving Jack to slouch against it in utter-fucking-relief before glitching away in a flurry of static, electric sparks, and distorted pixels. Sam was left tumbling down from where Anti’s shoulder had been, barely catching himself in the air before hitting the carpet.

“T᷊hi̘s̴ i᷁sn't̠ t̔h͏e l͟a͚s̏t͗ y͚oͅủ'l̙l᷁ s͎e̐e̹ őf̆ m͚e̦.”

With those final words the tension in the room dissipated rather suddenly, and Jack slid down to the floor to sit back against the bookcase and catch his breath. His throat was on fire and he coughed, wincing, trying to swallow in an attempt to sooth the renewed soreness. It didn’t really help.

‘Jack!’

Before Jack knew what was happening, he was bombarded by a tiny green projectile, Sam nuzzling up against his cheek and ‘cuddling’ every part of Jack’s face that he could reach.

“I’m–” Oh, god his throat hurt. Jack winced again and brought up a hand to catch the overactive eyeball, tugging him gently by the tail until he was floating where Jack could see him. He smiled weakly, and this time he let his thoughts speak for him.

‘I’m okay, Sam.’ He smiled softly. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks to you. You saved me, buddy. You’re so, so brave…’

Sam giggled quietly at the compliment, his frantic movements slowing for the moment. Jack could still feel the worry that Sam was feeling, a tiny beacon of distress in the back of his mind...but it wasn’t quite so strong as it had been before. He let Sam go and the little eyeball immediately snuggled up against Jack’s chest where he could feel his guardian’s heartbeat, strong as ever if not a little rapid.

“Not to interrupt zis wunderbar little moment,” Henrik spoke up. “But I believe zhere is somebody else ve should be helping?”

‘Oh, yeah! Where’s Mark and Tim?’

It was as if an electric shock had jolted him as the realization struck.

“Dark!” Jack’s words came out pained, hoarse, wheezy, his voice not all there. He winced and gritted his teeth, struggling to his feet and fighting past the flames in his throat. “Dark...ngh...h-he’s outside. Mark went...car. The car.”

Chase and Henrik exchanged a look, and Chase nodded.

“I’m on it.”

He was out the door before Jack had even found his footing. Jack made to follow him, more than just a little worried about his best friend, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him where he stood.

“Nein, you’re not going anyvhere,” Henrik scolded, shaking his head. He guided Jack over to the couch, ignoring his protesting gestures and looks, and forced him down onto it. “You’re injured, und I’m not about to let you go running off into anozher fight so quickly. God, you’re just like Jackie…”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, remembered his throat, and thought better of it in favor of flipping off Henrik with all the impudence of a bratty teenager. The good doctor huffed and sat on the coffee table across from Jack, shaking his head.

“Chase can handle himself, Jack. I trust him vith zis. Ja?” He pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned forward toward his patient. “Now...vhere vere you injured…?”

Mark’s head was pounding, his eyes screwed shut and his nails clutching at his scalp so tightly he couldn’t tell if he had broken the skin or not. Images rushed past in his mind’s eye, rapid and flashing and horrifying all at once.

It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

“Have you given up yet?”

Dark’s voice echoed against the inside of his skull, drawing a pained whimper from Mark, who had yet to change positions from when he had curled up in a ball on his knees at the start of it all. It’s not real, he kept reminding himself, even as he saw Amy’s pained, pleading eyes staring back at him from his own imagination. It’s not real, and it will never happen.

It was the only thing holding him together at this point, that and the thought that somewhere inside the apartment, Jack was counting on him, counting on his help. He needed to fight this, fight back.

Think of something happy.

The little idea that popped into his head sounded remarkably like Tim, which wasn’t too much of a surprise really. Tim was a voice of wonderful positivity in his life, a small beacon of cheerfulness that he could always depend on to brighten his day. So to say that his internal positivity was voiced by the little box? It made complete sense.

Think of something happy.

Himself and Amy, going out for ice cream. Ethan and Tyler, the three of them, laughing through their lines in a short film. A take for the blooper reel, clearly. Kathryn’s teasing remarks. Chica, giving him happy puppy kisses. Himself and Jack, laughing over Spaceballs and Sea of Thieves, acting like idiots and loving every second of it.

Kissing Amy goodnight.

It was helping. It wasn’t lightening the pressure by a lot, but holy shit was it helping. Mark felt some semblance of clarity begin to return to his mind, regaining a sense of awareness that had been lost to him in the sudden onslaught of Dark’s mental attack.

Mark lifted his head slightly, trying to locate Tim somewhere against the concrete backdrop the driveway provided. Instead, dark polished shoes came into his view, the ground crunching ever-so-slightly beneath their soles, and Mark stiffened. He saw the man - no, he wasn’t a man, he was a demon - crouch before him, watching him. Watching. Observing.

“Trying to fight back, are you?” That voice again, smooth and deep and haunting and charming all at once. Echoing. Looping. Belittling. “I’m surprised...and here I thought a spineless, self-serving, self-worshiping monster like you, wouldn’t have enough humanity left in him to find any light in such a dark–”

"Sir?”

Another pair of shoes had appeared near Dark, just beyond him, these ones dark grey sneakers. They were neat, crisp, unworn in any way...and Mark had a sinking feeling he knew who this new arrival might be.

“What is it, Google? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Mark hated being right sometimes.

"Antisepticeye has vacated the premises.”

Mark froze.

“He would like to inform you that ussies ares and things did not go according to plan. There were...as he said, “more players on the board” that he had not anticipated. Anti would like to discuss this matter in more detail, but for tonight, he is no longer in need of our assistance.”

A long pause followed the android’s words, and Mark felt both relief and heart-stopping anticipation in that moment. Anti was gone. Jack was okay, probably. But...what did that mean for him? Would Dark leave, just like that? Or–?

“Pity.” The word stopped Mark’s careening train of thought in an instant. “And here I was hoping I’d be able to break our friend Mark here before the night was out. Ah, well...perhaps another time.”

The pressure in his mind vanished in an instant, leaving Mark to gasp sharply and run his hands through his hair with closed eyes. The relief was absolutely monumental. The vice that had been keeping him in constant pain was gone, and all that remained was a throbbing headache that Mark was sure he could alleviate with some Advil. He sat up, slowly, his gaze dragging upward until both Darkiplier and Google were fully in his sights.

It was like going to a wax museum, where all the wax figures were supposed to be you. They all looked pretty damn close, but there was something...off about them, because the weren’t exact copies.

Plus the fact that one of those wax figures was actually an android, and the other made it look like you were staring through red-n-blue 3D glasses, and neither of the wax figures was actually made of wax…

...yeah, okay, maybe Dark had screwed up his head more than he’d first assumed.

“Is it wise to simply leave him behind as he is?”

“What damage could he possibly do?” Dark quirked an eyebrow at the android. “He knew I existed beforehand; it wouldn’t take a genius to assume others have surfaced as well. This changes nothing. Besides...it isn’t as if we can’t find him again after this evening.”

Dark eyes that held a sinister promise locked on Mark’s, and a shiver went down the man’s spine.

“We have eyes everywhere. He can’t hide, not from us.”

Pounding, running footsteps interrupted what Mark was sure would have been a rather chilling closure. (As if Dark’s last statement hadn’t been chilling enough already.) All three heads whipped around to see Jack bolting for the driveway, the Nerf gun Mark had been playing with all week held tight in his grip. With a cocky grin and more determination than Mark thought was fitting for such an action, Jack aimed his weapon at Dark and cocked his head to the side.

“Game over, Edgelord,” he taunted. Something about the way he was acting, the way he was talking, made Mark do a double-take. “Your homeboy Anti just ran off with his tail between his legs. I think it’s high time you did the same.”

Mark squinted at his friend. When the hell had Jack had time to change his clothes…?

“Should I neutralize him, sir?” Google’s eyes had taken on a red hue, the logo on his shirt glowing brighter than before, but Dark held up a hand to stop his colleague.

“That won’t be necessary, Google.” Dark folded his hands behind his back, smirking at Jack and casting a humorous glance toward the toy he was wielding. “As it is, my friend and I were already on our way out. No need for any further casualties. Not this time.”

Jack nodded to Google, not yet lowering his gun.

“Your Brobot seems to think otherwise.”

“Don’t mind him. It’s just in his programming.” Dark cast a sideways look of contempt toward Mark, still kneeling on the ground, and his lip curled in disgust. “Until next time, old friend.”

Then both Dark and Google vanished into wisps of black and grey smoke, leaving no trace behind, no hint that they had ever been there at all.

“Oh thank fuck...”

Mark groaned and dragged both hands over his face, rubbing the worry lines away and trying to massage his headache into non-existence. He heard footsteps approaching him, but they didn’t quite reach him. Instead he heard Jack veer a little to the left and stop there, an odd sound of plastic-on-plastic reaching his ears. When he let his hands fall into his lap and opened his eyes he realized what it was.

Jack had clipped the Nerf gun into a holster attached along the back of his belt - as though that was were it had always belonged, but where the hell had it even come from? - and he was crouched on the driveway reaching for something that was just out of sight around the front end of the car.

“Oh, buddy...what did he do to you?”

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. Who…?

Tim.

Mark stumbled to his feet to get closer, peering over Jack’s shoulder, and sure enough the tiny box was unconscious in his friend’s hands. He didn’t look hurt, just...asleep. Knocked out. Mark reached over Jack to take Tim from him, his hands as gentle as ever as he cradled his little biscuit against his chest protectively.

“Dark...he said he wasn’t here to hurt Tim,” Mark muttered, glancing up at Jack. “I don’t think - I think he’s just asleep.”

“I hope so,” Jack nodded, tugging at the brim of his hat and giving Tim another thoughtful glance before standing and turning his gaze back to Mark. “You good though, bro? Mister My Chemical Romance didn’t hurt ya too badly?”

“Not really, no,” Mark shrugged. He started to shake his head too, but the action made his head pound and he immediately decided never to do that again. Instead he stared at Jack, bewilderment flooding his features. “Wait, me? What about you?! Last time Anti was here he nearly killed you, Jack! How did you even–”

The thought was cut off by a rather unexpected laugh from Jack. The Irishman’s expression was bright, humorous, and the laughter that left him was loud and genuine, but the fact that he was laughing at all left Mark staring at him in baffled silence.

“Bro - dude. Oh my god, no.” Jack shook his head, eyes sparkling, and he chuckled as he went on: “Mark, I’m not Jack.”

Um. What?

“You’re not–”

“I’m Chase,” Not-Jack grinned. “Chase Brody.”

Mark blinked, and several things lined up in his head in that moment.

Change of clothes. Nerf gun. Nerf holster. ‘Brobot’ and ‘Edgelord’ and ‘Your homeboy Anti’ and–

“Oh my god, you’re the trick shot guy.”

“Yeah!” Chase’s grin widened and he shot Mark a pair of finger guns. “Exactly! Bro Average, trick shot master! Nice to meet ya, man!”

Mark’s expression was hovering somewhere between amusement and stupefaction.

“Of...course you are. And, uh...how...how many…?”

“How many Egos are there right now?” Chase snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just three, for Jack. I dunno how many Evil Twins you’ve got lurkin’ around, but it’s just me and Henrik and the ol’ Glitch Bitch on Jack’s end. Hen’s taking care of Jack inside right now.”

“Henrik…?”

“Doctor Schneep.”

“Right, okay. The...the German guy.”

“Heh, sure, yeah.” Chase snorted and glanced back toward the apartment, then around at the windows of the other residence in the area. “...actually, we might wanna head in before anyone starts askin’ more questions than they already will be, yeah?”

“Uh…” Mark blinked and shook himself mentally, still struggling to wrap his head around just how similar Chase and Jack looked. He supposed seeing Google, Dark, and himself in the same place probably looked equally surreal. “Yeah. Good point.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“Jack, sit still! Leichtsinnig…” Henrik muttered the word beneath his breath, then glared half-heartedly at Jack over his glasses. “Reckless boy.”

“Hey–!” Jack’s protest came out wheezy and he winced, scowling in annoyed silence instead.

Jack’s sweatshirt had been carefully wrestled off of him not too long ago, and the German doctor was already examining the rather impressive bruises marking Jack’s shoulder. The collision with the television cabinet hadn’t broken the skin, but the area was already turning a deep red color and it hurt to the touch. Jack bit back a whimper as Henrik carefully felt around the area with prodding fingers. He shot the medic a wary look.

“Are you sure y-you actually...know what you’re doing?” he asked, whispering instead. “You don’t have a real medical license…”

“Hush!” Henrik scowled at the YouTuber, his eyes narrowing. “I may not have one, but I vent to medical school same as anyvone else in my field! Ze only reason I don’t have a license is because I–”

The door opened then, drawing the attention of both men and Sam, who had been snuggled up in Jack’s lap. Sam let out a quiet squeak and went airborne, darting across the apartment to snuggle against Mark’s cheek happily.

“Seán?”

“Mark!”

The name hurt to say, the word coming out hoarse and quiet and pained, but Jack’s joy and relief was there nonetheless. He swatted away Henrik’s protests and shoved off the couch, drawing his best friend into a tight hug.

“Fuck, man…” he whispered the words against Mark’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut.

Jack ignored the pain in his shoulder, just letting himself revel in the fact that they were both alive, they were both safe, and they had both made it through whatever the hell had happened tonight. Mark was hugging his friend back just as tightly….but with only one arm.

“Do I even wanna know what the hell Anti did up here while I was gone?”

“...probably not,” Jack admitted quietly. “An’ you’d probably say the same ‘bout whatever Dark did to you outside.”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through Mark’s chest and Jack finally stepped back, a weak smile playing across his lips.

“Well...you’re not wrong, I would say that,” Mark shrugged, and Jack saw him bring his hands against his chest, holding something there. “But...uh. We kind of need to keep each other in the loop, don’t we? So we can–”

Mark’s gaze trailed downward and he broke off, his eyes widening and his jaw tensing.

“...is that...new?” he asked.

Jack knew what Mark was referring to without even having to ask.

The bruises on his throat, he was sure, looked worse than ever, the old ones from before still a sickly green-yellow while the fresh ones from this evening were a brilliant red. Plus he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so the massive pattern of bruises on his shoulder was fully visible too.

Unable to give him a proper verbal response, Jack just nodded with a grimace. A vein pulsed in Mark’s neck and he seemed to have to force himself to look away.

“VHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU VERE BLEEDING?!”

“Oh my god, Hen, fucking chill, dude. It’s not that bad–”

“JACK VHERE IS ZE FIRST AID KIT??!?!”

“Henrik, for fuck’s sake!”

Jack shot a look to Chase, who was now actively trying to avoid Henrik’s healing warpath while a red stain of blood slowly soaked the thigh of his jeans. Oh...Jack’s mouth fell into a small circle and his eyebrows rose...that was where Anti had caught Chase with his knife earlier, wasn’t it? In the heat of the moment, the chaos of everything, Jack had almost forgotten that it had happened at all.

‘Mister M-Mark? What happened to Tim…?’

Then Sam’s voice chimed in, quiet and worried. Jack saw Mark wince and look down into his hands, where Jack now realized an unconscious Tim was curled safe again Mark’s chest.

“He’s...he’ll be alright, Sam. He’s just...asleep…”

“Vhere is ze sewing kit–?!”

‘You sure he’s gonna be okay?’

“Stop! I’m fucking fine! Dammit, Henrik, you’re not my fucking wife–!”

Everything sounded too loud, the entire room an endless cacophony of noise, and Jack just wanted it to stop. He wanted quiet. His head was still pounding, still spinning, from everything that had happened since Singe had called, and all he wanted was to sit down, talk it over, drink some tea, and go the fuck to sleep. But he could only do that if everyone would just–

“SHUT UP!”

Jack fell into a coughing fit, his throat screaming at him for raising his voice to such a level after the beating his neck had taken...but it did the trick. The room had quieted, all eyes snapping to him, the expressions he received on the other end rather mixed. Mark looked concerned, Chase was still vaguely pissed, and Henrik had a frantic look in his eyes as though he might explode at any second. Sam let out a little startled squeak and tumbled out of the air, Mark catching him with one hand before the little eyeball even had time to right himself.

“God...okay…” Jack took a deep breath to regain some air and nodded, his voice back down to a whisper. “Okay. So. Mark, you’re good. Sit down an’ take care of the kids.” Mark stifled a chuckled at the comment, and the smallest of smirks twitched at the corner of Chase’s mouth. “Chase, sit the hell down. Let Schneep look at ya. I’ll get the first aid kit - yes, and the sewing kit, I know, Doctor - then I’m makin’ myself some tea, we’re sitting the hell down, and we’re gonna talk about what the fuck just happened.” He threw a weary glance around the room, making sure everyone had heard him. “Got it?”

“Sure thing, man.”

“Ja. Understood.”

Jack looked to Mark last, who still had the same little worried frown creasing his forehead from before, but a bit of that strain had lessened to a degree.

“...yeah. Got it.” Mark managed a tired smile and glanced down to Tim and Sam, still held carefully in his hands, before returning his focus to Jack with a nod. “Thanks, Seán. Go do your thing. I’ve got it handled out here.”

Jack finally smiled then, and some of the tension melted out of his shoulders. He wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t the only one who had to take charge of this absolute circus of a mess. He and Mark were in this together, best friends taking on the world together, and there were others waiting to help out in the wings if things really went sideways. Amy, Signe, Robin...maybe Matt. Perhaps Ethan or Tyler too, if they really needed the help. But the fact still remained that he wasn’t in this alone.

So with one last, appreciative smile and a pat on Mark’s shoulder, Jack set about doing what he had tasked himself with. God, he couldn’t wait for tonight to be over.

[A/N] - Well well well...here we are! The other half of the absolute chaos from the previous chapter, finalized here for you all. I'm sure this chapter will bring as many questions as the last, and they won't go unanswered! My apologies for taking longer to get this one out to you. Life's been a little hectic on my end...heh...but I still have inspiration for this story! Don't you worry!

Next chapter, another much-anticipated character will show his face, and while not as much action will be included it'll be just as intriguing.

I hope.

As always, comments and critiques are always accepted! Let me know what you think, and if you notice any spelling or grammar errors please point them out...I don't always catch them all. ^^;;;

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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