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virmillion · 6 years ago

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Some Kind of Magical - Chapter 7

Chapter 6 / Chapter 8 / Masterpost / ao3

Warnings: Some tears, let me know if you have any more

Words: 4756

“You look like you’ve just seen some unspeakable eldritch horror,” Logan comments, watching the color slowly return to Patton’s face. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, we should get going before my parents notice I’m gone.”

“I—uh, yeah, we should—gone? Where are we going? What are you even doing here?” Patton fumbles for words, much to Logan’s chagrin. What should be a simple task to satiate curiosity, now delayed by extraneous emotions. Things would be so much easier if people would just learn to listen to him.

“I said I would assist you in further investigating the cave, did I not?” Pinching his nose, Logan sighs. “We could save a considerable amount of time if you allow me to elaborate as we walk.”

This is how the moon shines down on them: two boys, one a good head taller than the other, sticking to side streets and ducking under the lower hanging trees. By the time they reach the beginnings of a forest, the tall one’s purple hair is shot through with countless branches and brambles.

“I’d rather get this over with sooner than later,” Logan is saying, “and it’s better to have recovery time if we need it. Should anything happen to the creatures or the clearing, us investigating earlier allows a better chance for us to still gain something, regardless of how useful it might be to our projects.” Maybe it’s Logan’s determination to be done with all this cave business that prevents him from noticing the pine needles sticking out of Patton’s shirt. Patton brushes them off with a feigned air of nonchalance, a story lingering in his eyes at which Logan has no desire to pry. He instead focuses on the carpet of leaves dotting the forest floor, on the shredded wood chips kicked up behind him. He almost pauses to figure out the time, but there’s no need, really. If they assume they’re late and quicken their paces accordingly, they’ll be early.

“That still doesn’t tell me why you were sneaking around all creepy outside my house, or how you got up to the second floor.” Patton’s eyes dart in every direction, watching a gnat flit about his face. It burrows a home in his brown hair, nestling in place until a scorched hand brushes it away. Logan pretends not to notice Patton’s wince as he peels pieces of hair from his pink skin.

“It seemed a humorous venture at the time, and I simply scaled the wall. It’s not a frictionless surface, you know.”

“Normal people don’t ‘simply scale the wall,’ Logan. That’s not a thing they do.”

“Fascinating. I wonder whether the activity will see an increase in popularity? You must try it sometime, I’m certain you’d love it.” Logan points to a hairline break in the line of trees, apparently finished peddling his newfangled exercise. “Does this one look about right?”

Patton runs a hand over his goosebumps, clearly wishing he could tell his past self to bring a sweater—something for which Logan had long since been prepared. Logan produces a black and baby blue scarf from one of his pockets, allowing himself a small grin when Patton wraps it around his neck and buries his nose in it. “I hope so.”

Something in Patton’s voice makes Logan curious, wondering at the sudden loss of enthusiasm to return to the cave. Not enough to pursue the question, of course. Instead, he walks up to the fissure in nature and pokes his hand through. Nothing. No disappearing, no open space, nothing like they’d seen earlier. Sticking his head in, Logan peers around. Granted, he’s throwing caution to the wind at this point, but it’s in the name of scientific discovery. This time is different than before, with no clearing on the other side, no total darkness, and certainly no cave to greet him. Only regular old nature with its regular old greens and browns. Patton wedges himself beside Logan, a nervous laugh bubbling in his chest.

“Okay well there’s nothing here oh no that’s too bad let’s just get going!” Patton’s laugh rises, filling the air as he paces behind Logan. “Nothing to see here, come on!”

“You’re acting strangely,” Logan remarks, still studying what could hardly be called an opening. He tuts to himself, well aware of Patton’s impatience as he takes copious mental notes. Barring the leaves he’d moved, the trees could be identical to just about any other oversized cylinder of wood, which perfectly embodies why Logan has a such a vendetta against magic. Unpredictable and nigh impossible to study, magic is less of an artifact and more of a living entity that humanity could never hope to understand, let alone control. Naturally, this annoys Logan to no end. “Maybe if we’d been a little faster in getting here, or quieter as we got closer, or we’re in the wrong place entirely and I’m losing it.”

“Definitely not that last one, but can we just leave anyway?” Patton eyes the brightening horizon, which is marred only by thin clouds that promise a growing storm. “It’s been a long night.”

“Has it, now?” A new voice joins in the fray, making Logan’s shoulders stiffen. More out of habit than anything, he grabs Patton’s wrist to prevent whatever unintentional fight might arise. “Just how long of a night, exactly, have you had? I can’t imagine it’s been too difficult, but it’s not like I was there or anything.”

“Hey, Than,” Patton sighs.

Than nods, his eyes lingering on Patton’s seared face. “Look at us, fire twins born of the same burning ashes. Couple of cards.”

“What do you want, Than?” Logan bites back the knee jerk reaction to tell off Patton, to implore him not to encourage Than. Instead, he squeezes his wrist tighter, stopping just before it hurts enough for Patton to cry out. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Oh, you’re busy?” Than presses his lips together and looks at Logan, who curls his shoulders in. Seeming to understand his discomfort, Than shifts his focus back to Patton. “Maybe I could fetch Virgil, have him help you finish up faster?”

“How did you even know about that?” Patton’s hands tighten into fists, clench and relax, clench and relax. “Our problems are none of your business.”

“I didn’t know about it until you told me just now, but thanks for clearing it up. I wasn’t quite sure.” Than studies his fingernails and lets out a puff of air to blow the stray blond strands from his face. “Anyway, I should get going, don’t want to be late for school. Have fun playing in the dirt.” Than waves his fingers in a ‘toodle-loo’ motion, nearly out of sight before he turns back. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Virgil.” His last word of farewell dies on the wind. “Probably.”

Logan does his best to appear wholly unaffected by the confrontation, content to continue scrutinizing the greens. If he can’t find the magic, he won’t be able to study it, so he won’t be able to use it in his TryMyts, so them coming out here would have been a waste, so that’s time he didn’t spend being productive, so—

“Or you can ignore me, that’s also a valid option. Take your time, but I don’t think I can personally handle the idea.” Snapping back into himself, Logan registers Patton moving to follow Than.

“Wait, wait, where are you going?”

“To class. I said that several times, but you seemed pretty absorbed in your observations and everything.” Patton shrugs. “I need to stop home for my bag, anyway, and I don’t want to cut it too close on time.”

“That, um, yes, that would make sense. My apologies. To your house, then?” Logan brushes the dirt from his knees as he stands, grimacing at the smear of mud that only smudges further. “I don’t suppose you have any thrilling stories with which to regale me on the way, do you?” A silence falls over the pair, which Logan takes as answer enough.

The short journey home is interspersed with the early risers of their school, who head toward the building in the distance as one cohesive unit. By the bags tugging on their eyes and those weighing down their backs, one might almost assume they were a hive mind. Probably not too far from the truth, in Logan’s professional opinion. Sure, he loves research more than pretty much anything else in life, but even he knows that everyone has a limit to how much they’re willing to learn. Frankly, everyone has a limit to how much they’re willing to put up with being forced to learn, which is often reached far sooner than the limit they desire of their own free will.

Just because he hasn’t found either limit yet, that doesn’t make him better than everyone else. Logan is keenly aware of this fact, and takes care to remind himself of it often. Oversized egos do not a good Research candidate make. That’s not to say that Research doesn’t have its fair share of egomaniacs—quite the contrary, in fact. Plenty of people set their sights on Research solely to appear smarter, only to end up in a completely unrelated field of study than that upon which they based their TryMyts. An optimist might see that as the ideal for a Research candidate, putting their chips in every jar they can find, in order to learn about as many things as possible, some of which they didn’t even sign up for in the first place. Logan thinks the people who choose one jar that isn’t theirs and mock people who try to join in on that jar are all snobbish airheads, but no one asked him.

Well, no, that’s not strictly true. Patton definitely just asked him something, and Logan definitely wasn’t listening.

“Sorry, lost in thought. Come again?”

“I could tell.” Patton gestures to Logan’s arm, which is covered in ink doodles. Even with the long sleeve pushed up, more scribbles manage to lurk under the fabric. Logan glances at his other hand, which somehow got hold of a pen and went to town on his skin. With a small laugh, he recaps the pen and rolls the sleeve back down. “You’ve been doing that for years, pretty much invariably when your mind is idle and wandering. I know your tics by now, no worries. I just asked if you wanted me to wait for you to get your bag, or if we should split up.”

“You needn’t wait here, I’ll only be but a moment.” Logan blinks, uncertain as to when, exactly, he’d found himself in front of his house. He’s usually much more on the ball than this—at least, that’s what he’d like to have disinterested onlookers believe. “I’ll see if I can’t rope Roman into leaving early, as well.”

“Meet you at my house, then.” Patton waves, continuing on as Logan ducks inside. By some miracle, his mother is still asleep. Ren, on the other hand—

“Where have you been?” they hiss. As evidenced by their fingernails, bitten well into the nail bed by now, they are none too happy with Logan. “I was worried sick that you’d gone gallivanting off to Ceth knows where, you could’ve gotten seriously hurt, and I would’ve had no way of knowing!”

“Sorry, I—”

“No apologizing. If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place. Just get your bag and go, before your mother wakes up. She doesn’t need to be bothered with your nonsense, after staying up so late in worry. She only went to bed because I convinced her to, and I can promise you a world of lecturing when you get home later.” If slamming the bedroom door would feel like a slap to the face, then Ren closing it silently feels like being torn to shreds by a vengeful raccoon. With rabies. And a deadly manicure pedicure combination. And a vendetta against guys in glasses.

Logan grabs his bag from the kitchen counter—already put together in preparation for a hasty exit, of course—and darts down the street to hassle Roman.

“Oh, Thylktor, always a pleasure. Am I correct in assuming you’re an early riser as well? Never mind, silly question, of course you are. Such a common characteristic in successful Researchers such as ourselves.” Logan, long since used to the whirlwind style of conversation from Roman’s mother, manages to squeeze in a wave before she backs away from the door. “Feel free to wake Roman yourself, Ceth knows he won’t be up and about of his own volition at this hour. I’ve no doubt his grades would improve if he just applied himself to a better schedule, but if he’s to be stubborn, I suppose you’re doing your best to reverse his poor decisions.” Shortly enough, the sound of furiously scribbling pencils rises from the next room over, background noise for Logan’s expedition up to Roman’s room. He shrugs his bag higher up on his shoulder.

“Roman, Patton is ready early. We’re leaving now, so get out here in the next five minutes of I’m leaving without you.” Logan takes the muffled groan from behind the door as begrudging acknowledgement.

“Is there a reason you picked our house to scream in, or am i just that lucky?” Pib materializes in the doorframe down the hall, their arms folded and their lip curled. “Hi, Logan.”

“Pib.” Logan nods, his eyes drifting past them to see their spotless room. “Any exciting projects coming up? Something I could help with, maybe?”

“Since you were last here, you mean? Thylktor, if you genuinely believe I get two fascinating projects worth pursuing in as many weeks, you’re playing yourself for a fool. Shame, I always thought you were the smarter one between you and my brother.” Pib shifts their weight in the near silence, save for the sound of Roman scrambling to get ready and moaning about how unnecessarily early it was. “You’re welcome to come take a look at the current one, though. Maybe I missed something that your genius input can provide. Take care to note my sarcasm before entering my room.”

Sparing a glance at Roman’s still-closed door, Logan accepts the invitation. Just like Pib, the room is immaculate, populated only be a simple bed, a desk, and an obscene amount of paper. Oh, and the countless bookcases that might as well be the wallpaper with how much they obscure the actual wall. Can’t forget the one true passion in the Thyrrak household. At the desk stands a simple black chair, over which a lengthy white string is draped.

“Measurements and scaling,” Pib says, pointing at the occasional streak of black ink marring the string. “I was supposed to be looking into the evolutionary divergence of the tarasque from a non-trystopian giant turtle, found a misidentified shell shard in a scholarly article, and now I’m looking at the regenerative properties of zburator scales, and the effect of those scales based on their Canis lupus origins.” Pib shrugs. “Life’s weird like that.”

If Logan were someone else, he might wonder about the strings of fate seeming to direct his repeated encounters with things related to zburators. Being the person of science that he is, however, he leans closer to look at the papers and pushes aside thoughts of fate. “Any reliable references from artistic interpretations?” The mere idea of a zburator is the closest most people had gotten, as it was a truly rare thing to find a calm zburator to depict, and still less common for it to sit still long enough for the artist to survive the session.

“Just descriptions. Twelve foot wingspan, so scale that down to a foot on this piece of string, and translate the same scale to the other measurements.” Pib winds the string up and down their arm like cast, running the frayed end under their thumbnail. “That is, of course, assuming these measurements are even accurate in the first place, which I have no way to prove. First creature to follow the Cethyphyirr flicker, first hypothesized Ejnathryk occurrence, and all we have is guesswork based on shadows cast by the moon.”

Running a hand over the ink on the page, Logan grins and holds up his finger. “Not to bounce between topics, but this smudge proof ink might have been your proudest moment, you know. Could’ve made a pretty penny and never had to worry about funds for your studies again.”

“My proudest moment will be becoming the first person to give a concise, concrete, and accurate report on zburators, but thanks for the input. Didn’t ask for it, but thanks.” Pib elbows Logan out of the way to sit down. “I don’t suppose you or Roman know how to draw a zburator?”

“No, I unfortunately was not the one to—” Logan cuts himself off, uncertain how much information Roman has shared with his family. Thankfully, Pib obviously isn’t really tuned into the conversation—at least, not enough to notice Logan’s uncertainty. “No, neither I nor Roman can help you there.”

Pib sighs through their nose, prodding at their cheek with the string. “Didn’t think so. Speak a’ Kryntyk.” The door down the hall creaks open, revealing Roman at his best in a T-shirt and sweatpants. He nods blearily at Logan, flips off Pib, and yawns.

“Let’s go if we’re going,” Roman mumbles, wiping bits of sleep from his eyes. “Later, nerd.”

“See you, loser,” Pib replies, still preoccupied with the papers. Still winding and unwinding that string. “Bye, Logan. Have fun being a normal student that actually gets to go to school without it being against your will.”

“With pleasure. Bye, Pib.” Logan follows Roman down the stairs and to the door, foot tapping impatiently when a hesitation in the name of food is mentioned.

“I’m hungry, and you cut short my beauty rest. Not that I need it, but I do have an appearance to maintain, and that maintenance includes a proper diet.” Ignoring this point, Logan pulls Roman out the front door.

“Didn’t ask, don’t care, and hurry up. A pompous attitude isn’t going to make you have a better impression on others, although I’m shocked you haven’t figured that out for yourself in the last eighteen years.” At Roman’s indignant huff, Logan takes off at a sprint. “Where’s the overconfidence now, huh?”

Nearly tripping over himself to catch up, Roman recovers by flinging his arms to the sides for balance. His pilfered breakfast apple goes flying. “Patton can wait, just hold on a second!”

“Gladly.” Logan halts, hiding a laugh behind his fist as Roman careens past him. Another block down, Patton freezes as Roman appears out of nowhere, Logan approaching at a relaxed stroll from behind. He takes his time without a care in the world, letting his eyes rake over the darkening storm clouds overhead. Beyond the school, some look heavy enough to burst, and others tremble with thunder.

“We’ve still got a bunch of time to spare. Why are you running?” Patton asks.

“Yes, Roman? Why did you feel the need to run? Enlighten us, please.” Logan tsks. “So foolish.”

“I didn’t—you were—he wasn’t—forget it.” Shaking his head, Roman waves his arm toward the school. “C’mon, you two were the ones that wanted to get there early.”

“Wait, did anyone get Virgil?” Patton asks. He worries a loose thread from his shirt, unraveling the seam between his fingers and regretting how they’d last parted. “I don’t want to exclude him.”

“It’s fine. He’s fine. We can go,” Roman says.

“What, are you afraid he’ll have me reveal a secret of yours? Watch out, the Logan Beast lurks in the night and hungers for handing out humiliation.”

“Shut up, you don’t have anything on me! I mean, besides grades, but everyone knows that.” Having reached the front doors of the school, Roman rushes ahead to hold them open. “After you. Chivalry may be dead, but I’m a necrophiliac.”

“That definitely does not mean what you think it means,” Logan says. Bolstered by the abnormally empty halls, he announces, “I’m going to try to speak with Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn, see if she has any input about my TryMyts prospects. Until lunch, stay out of trouble, no unsanctioned adventures, and absolutely no intimate relationships with the dead.” Logan leaves Roman gaping like a goldfish and Patton pleading for an explanation to the joke.

Being a relatively decent member of society, Logan stops to pick up at least five crumpled pieces of trash on his way to the TryMyts advisor wing. While Virgil swore Myjhyrr Senthyirr’s office was nestled in a corner and absorbed light as if it were oblivion, it really doesn’t look too bad in the soft glow of the morning—ignoring the storm brewing outside, of course. With a thin window and no doors directly beside it, the facade is nothing to write home about, but still. Logan turns his attention to the door directly on its right, which has a name card at eye level labeled ‘M. Kenthykyrrn.’ Satisfied with this being the right room, he knocks lightly.

“Enter.”

The coolness of the voice perfectly matches the interior of the room. Painted in alternating shades of forest green and navy blue, the walls are neither bare nor overflowing. The far wall framing the dark oak desk boasts years of teaching awards, for everything from success to student pride to official recommendations from scholarly higher ups. The remaining walls display minimal decorations, a field-changing article here, a significant Researcher biography there, but never anything too personal or revealing.

Before the imposing desk sits a child, their face buried in their hands and their shoulders shaking. The willowy woman across from them taps her nail on the desk meaningfully and clears her throat, glancing at Logan.

“Trilyo, please, if you wouldn’t mind?” The child—Trilyo, evidently—wipes a sleeve over their eyes and sniffles. WIthout a word, they shuffle past Logan and out the door, their face downcast and their jaw set. Logan glances back at the woman. “Please, have a seat.”

“Is Trilyo—”

“They’re fine. Have a seat.” The plastic of the cushion squeaks beneath him, a piercing noise in the quiet room. “How might I assist you? Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn, by the way, but you knew that.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. My name is Logan Thylktor.” My, my, my, me, me, me, can’t you talk about anyone besides yourself for once? “I was hoping to discuss my TryMyts with you.”

“You were hoping to?”

“Going to. I am going to discuss my TryMyts with you. Please.”

Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn wags a finger at him. “Much better. I think we’re going to get on swell. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I’ve seen you climbing in the class ranks, Thylktor. It’s really quite remarkable.” She slides a slim manila folder out of a desk drawer, smoothing it open on the table. “Very few write ups, as well. What seems to be the issue with your TryMyts that brings you here today?”

“I just have no idea where to begin, although I’m sure that’s too general for you to help me with.”

“Well, I’m sure you know I can’t exactly do it for you.” Logan nods, forcing himself to maintain eye contact as her dark eyes stare him down. “A nearly guaranteed TryMyts success would be to discover a new creature and gather all evidence involving its behavior, origins, that sort of thing. I don’t suppose you could pull off anything like that?”

Clicking his tongue, Logan hesitates. There was the disconcerting lack of information in Pib’s zburator research, or the scorch marks in that cave, or the weird enchantment hiding it, or—

“My apologies, Thylktor, but I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer, unless you can bring me specific project interferences. Why don’t you run along to class, and we’ll reconvene when you have a more concrete idea?”

“Right. Yes. Right, of course, thank you so much, Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn.” She nods, her straight brown hair spilling down her shoulder in a braid. He leaves with such haste that he almost doesn’t hear the teacher calling after him to ‘choose wisely.’

In the hall, Trilyo sits between the door to Myjhyrr Ryhanthyrri’s room and the one for Myjhyrr Kessyn-Syrru. Their shaking has ceased, but their head is securely hidden between their knees. Oddly enough, even with the school starting to fill up, no one seems to notice them. Sure, it’s a far removed corner from the regular classrooms, but it’s not invisible. However much the idea might revolt him, Logan supposes he should be the one to ensure their wellbeing. He’ll look like a good samaritan, if nothing else.

“Are you okay? I saw you run out of Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn’s room, and. Well. Um.”

Trilyo flinches, their grip on their elbows going white. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Your current location and disposition would indicate otherwise.” Judging by the lack of response, a cold approach won’t work with this kid. Alternative and impulsive tactics are required. Logan leans against the wall, sliding down beside Trilyo. “I’ve always admired the ambiguity of our world’s creation.” Trilyo doesn’t exactly answer, but they also don’t do anything to indicate an aversion to an impromptu storytime.

“I guess praising a star is a little odd, since it’s just like any other burning ball of gas, but celestial entities can have more power than anyone might suspect. I like to imagine that Alpha Ursae Minoris popped off the Cethyphyirr flicker out of spite, like the other stars thought it wasn’t good enough. Something about Ceth being born of spite seems really fitting, sort of gives it a reason for each subsequent Ejnathryk. Maybe the sheer force of spite in Ceth, even as a shambling mass of light and shapes, acted like a magnet for other Alpha Ursae Minoris shards to come down.” Logan lets out the barest hint of a chuckle. “Not exactly a scientific theory, but sometimes it’s fun to just let your mind run wild with hypotheses. Pretend reality is wrong so you can make up a better one.”

Trilyo sniffles. Mumbles something into their sleeve. Sniffles again. “Why’d you even tell me that? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I could have just left you alone on the floor here, but I don’t really think that’s what either of us want.”

“No, I guess it’s not. I’m Trilyo, usually.” They hold out a hand to shake, barely managing to meet Logan’s eye and instead settling somewhere around his nose. He offers a smile.

“Logan, full time. Pleasure to meet you. Where’s your first class, could I take you there?” He grabs Trilyo’s hand, foregoing the shake to tug them to their feet.

“It’s, um, it’s math. With Myjhyrr Pentheon.”

“Perfect, my room is just a few doors down from there. Let’s go.” Before Logan can set off down the hall, Trilyo squeezes his hand, their feet rooted in place.

“Um. I, uh, I wanted to tell you. About Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn. Um.” Logan puts on his best attempt at a patient and encouraging face, all too aware of how quickly time is ticking down to the beginning of class. As if on cue, the first warning bell rings. Trilyo clears their throat. “Since you, you know, you stayed with me. And everything. Um. I’m supposed to be a grade below where I am now, but. Um. Myjhyrr Kenthykyrrn put in a recommendation for me to do my TryMyts early, and, um, yeah. I got a little emotional, I guess.” Trilyo scratches at the sleeve covering their shoulder, still not completely looking at Logan. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and I, um, I couldn’t, I didn’t, I mean—”

“You’re fine, Trilyo. You don’t have to say any more than that. What you’ve already been willing to share is more than enough. Let’s get you on to class, and I’ll fill in your teacher about the situation.” With a gentle hand on the fingers that aren’t incessantly running up and down an arm, Logan pulls Trilyo into the fray of students running to get to class. “Thank you for telling me. Truly, I do appreciate it, and if you can tell a complete stranger something that personal? I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting a remarkable TryMyts done, either.”

“You really think so?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Chapter 6 / Chapter 8 / Masterpost / ao3

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #crying mention tw #some kind of magical #labhwrites #mine

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blooblooded · 3 years ago

Text

Tony and the Thing from the Void

Tony

Tony regained consciousness and immediately understood how dire the situation was.

He was sitting in a chair, his arms tied behind his back and his ankles tied to the legs with what felt like phone charger cords. His head throbbed and he was aware that a smear of blood had dribbled from his temple, where Kassidy Nguyen had struck him with a lamp. The blood was still wet, so he knew that he had not been unconscious for long. He saw that the door was now closed.

He did not yet understand what was happening, but knew that he was double fucked. Tony turned in the chair and began to move his wrists back and forth to try and loosen the cord they were tied with. “Oh god,” he said to himself. “Oh fuck.”

Tabby and the rest of the girls had gone with the awkward Northern boy Marty to talk to someone called the Prime Minister. Tony had stayed behind to take care of Kassidy because she had been too sick to leave. In pain. Shivering. Spitting up blood. She had been in bad shape since they had left Eden. He was the only one that knew that she was not entirely herself and had stuck around to make sure…make sure of something. Make sure she was OK.

Up until now, he had not fully realized how Not Herself Kassidy really was. Or what that meant. He had not wanted to See.

“Anthony,” said Kassidy. No. Not Kassidy. Kassidy had never called him that. Kassidy had never tried to hurt him. Kassidy had never looked at him in the way she was looking at him now. It was the….thing inside of Kassidy that now spoke. It was the Book, the entity from the Void. “You’re awake. I was worried I hit you too hard.”

There it was. The thing in Kassidy’s body. He saw how it had destroyed her. Her arms and face had grown too thin but her belly was swollen grotesquely, the way that bodies become during malnutrition. Her skin had a grey cast to it and the acne on her cheeks had turned into bloody, crusted scabs. Black veins were visible at her temples, running up her arms. Dying. Kassidy was dying. And this thing had taken complete control.

A part of him hated her for letting it inside of her. Stupid little girl. Just a stupid little girl, full of grief and rage. But how was she supposed to know what was going to happen to her? The moment that she touched Cihad’s Book, it was all over. He knew what it was like, what it was like to willingly choose something destructive only for it to take complete control.

It had been sitting on another one of the chairs in the room but now it got up to approach him. It wobbled a little, like it was about to fall over. Too weak.

Tony struggled harder against the cords that bound his hands.

“It’s good to be able to talk to you,” said the thing. It stood before him. An unthinkable monster, curling itself inside of a sick young woman. “I never thought I’d be able to actually talk to you.”

“Oh god.” His heart pounded in his chest and he tried not to look at it. He didn’t want to see it. “Oh fuck. Tabitha! Goddamn it, Casey!”

“They aren’t here,” said the thing. It chewed absently on one of its fingernails. “You don’t need to scream. You’re not in any danger.”

It couldn’t know that. Tony gritted his teeth, worked harder against the cords. Sweat poured down his forehead and soaked his shirt at the chest and armpits. The smell of fear radiated from his pores. No. He would not die like this. This wasn’t supposed to be the way he died, so far away from home. There were people he needed to get back to. Cynthia, she was only 12 years old and did not even know he was still alive. He couldn’t die here, this thing couldn’t kill him here. Not until he got back to his daughter and made up for how he had failed her.

“Can you stop?” asked the thing in Kassidy’s body. In front of him now and crouched down, resting it’s arms on its knees. Still wearing Kassidy’s clothes, the torn jeans, the loose long sleeved shirt. But not Christopher Nguyen’s jacket. When the jacket went out of the picture, Tony had known something was wrong without even needing to See. “I can’t talk to you when you’re jerking around like a rat in a trap. I want to talk. I’ve been so alone.”

“Nope,” said Tony, panting. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“Aw.” It put its hand on his knee. A chill shivered up Tony’s spine and he did what he could to jerk away from it, but could not move much. The chair was carved from wood, ornamental, heavy. “I don’t know why you’re so scared. You don’t need to be scared. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to kill you. I care about you, I’ve cared about you for 3 years. Even when I was trapped, formless inside of that Book, I was hoping you were OK.”

“You killed my wife,” said Tony. It was useless to struggle so he stopped. His mind rolled back and forth between his options. Talk to it. Waste its time. Maybe Tabby would come back. Maybe someone would save him. He could not save himself. Even as a young man, it had not been something he was capable of. “You— you’re killing my friend.”

It smiled in the unsure way that something that does not know how to smile does. Kassidy’s lips were chapped and peeling. Her teeth had turned brittle, the gums receding. “Kassidy? She wanted this.”

“No.” Tony turned his mind to Tabby, reaching out for her. He was not a psychic, not really. He had no telepathy, only the cursed, useless Sight. “No.”

“Yeah.” It squeezed his knee. “She was nothing. So stupid and weak and sad. She wanted to be something. She let me inside, it was her choice. And now she’s gone. It’s peaceful. No more pain or fear, only me. I take care of her.”

He was not a violent man but Tony wanted to lash out at this thing, smash it to jelly. Kill it. Kill it for what it was doing, for what it had done. He remembered the way that Cathy had looked at him before she had plunged the knife into her own chest, he remembered the way she had screamed. Back then he had not been able to understand it, he had not understood the totality of how this parasite obliterated every part of the self. But Cathy had known. She had felt herself slipping away and made the choice to take control one last time.

It was a choice that Kassidy had been unwilling or unable to make.

“Go away,” he said. “Please. Just go away. Why are you doing this? Go back, just go back to the Book. I don’t know why you’re doing this?”

“Why does anything do anything?” It asked. It leaned over his lap, still crouching, and untied the knotted cord that was binding his wrists. Even though his hands were free, Tony found himself unable to strike out, unable to even move. It was an unfortunate leftover of his childhood: when faced with danger, his first instinct was to flee, and when he was unable to do that, he froze. Why hadn’t he just run away from home when he was a kid, why had he just taken everything? Easier to freeze. People were less likely to hurt you when you were limp and quiet. But this wasn’t a person. “I just want to live. You know, I just want to live. I deserve to live just like anything else.”

“Please,” said Tony, ice water running through his veins.

It took his hands in its own. Kassidy’s hands were very small and several of her fingernails had fallen off to reveal crusting infected nail beds. It turned Tony’s hands over gently so that it could look at the raised white scar running thickly up his left forearm.

That had been from when he was 17, stupid and cowardly, trapped in foster care. It had been bad enough for stitches, but not bad enough to be taken seriously. When his foster parents had found him passed out in a bathtub and covered in blood, they had just yelled at him for being stupid. Tony had never regretted doing it. Sometimes he regretted not trying harder, regretted that he had been a scared child unable to bring the blade down on himself again.

“You don’t even want to live,” said the thing living in Kassidy’s body, with a contemplative tone like it was unable to understand. “Did you know that humans are the only creatures I’ve seen that do that? I’ve lived for thousands of years, I’ve lived in countless worlds. Every other living being fights to survive. Not you things. You put yourselves in danger, you consume things that aren’t good for you, you even actively try to die. Why is that? What were you thinking about when you did this to yourself?” It lightly touched the scar on Tony’s arm and he drew back with force like he had been burned.

He had not even talked to Cihad about this, there was no way he was about to explain 41 years of suicidality to something that was not human.

It was all too much. Tony willed himself to move, to react, but could not. What good would it do? He had seen Kassidy use blood magic, he had seen the way that she had made the pyrokinetic secret police agent writhe and squirm on the ground when they were fleeing Eden. If he hit this thing or tried to get up, what if it did something even worse to him? It could pull his intestines out of his asshole or make his one good eye burst like a grape. It seemed to…like him, but for how long?

Tabby. Tabby needed to come back. Tabby and her gun. Or the witch, Jules, with her white magic. Or Anatole Surkhov with his magic starmetal sword. Or Esther, Rosaline, Casey, anyone! Anyone.

And then—

A WATER PLANET WITH FOUR MOONS. THE SEAS ARE GREEN AND WARM, POPULATED BY THE RACE OF SHAPESHIFTING SLIME CREATURES THAT NOW LIVE ON EARTH. THEY ARE BEING HUNTED INTO EXTINCTION BY THE ENTITY. THE WATER IS TURNING BLACK WITH THEIR ICHOR. IT IS HUNGRY, IT IS SO HUNGRY, AND IT WILL NEVER STOP. THE CREATURES FROM THAT PLANET HAVE THEIR OWN MAGIC, THEIR OWN PRIESTS, AND THEY RIP A HOLE THROUGH DIMENSIONS TO SEND THEIR OFFSPRING TO EARTH, TO SOMEWHERE THEY CAN BE SAFE. THE ENTITY FOLLOWS THEM THROUGH THE RIFT BUT ITS BODY IS TORN FROM IT BY THE VIBRATION OF EARTH’S MAGNETIC FIELD. IT IS SCREAMING AND SCREAMING AND FEELS FEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME AND—

Tony squeezed his eye shut to block out the Sight. No, no, he did not want to know. He did not want to know about this thing, did not want to know where it came from, did not want to know what it wanted. His head pounded.

“What’s wrong?” it asked. Tony could still feel one of its hands on his knee.

“Go away,” he said. The air was cold, even inside of Florence Gauthier’s estate, and his sweat was lowering his body temperature. “Please go away.”

“You don’t like me? I gave you your Sight.” It rose up. Tony clutched his hands to his face. “You need to get used to me. We’re going to be very close for a while.”

Tony’s eye shot open. Did it mean to leave Kassidy’s body and enter his? No, it would have already done that. Would it? Did it need…did it need permission? He would never accept that. He could accept a lot of things, but never that. It was not the slow death and rot that scared him, it was the violation. He felt his legs start to tremble.

If it left Kassidy’s body, she would die. He understood that much. He understood that it was keeping her alive, making her watch as it sucked everything from her body and made her decay. Even if it left her and allowed her to survive, how would she ever come back from something like that? Cathy had chosen death instead, Cathy had…Cathy…

“What does that mean?” He asked. His mouth was as dry as sandpaper and his own voice sounded raspy. “What does that mean?”

It stood before him and pushed its hair out of its face. It looked down at itself, pulled at its shirt. “I like this world,” it said. It ran its hands down Kassidy’s body. “I like humans. You feel so much. I like the way you eat and drink so that you feel good. No other creature does that either. You just do things for pleasure.” It lifted up the edge of its shirt a little to show its swollen abdomen in an awkward parody of sensuality. “Do you want to have sex? I want to know what that’s like.”

Tony’s breath hitched in his throat. He could not speak.

Wherever Kassidy’s consciousness was, he could only hope that she was not aware of what was being propositioned. But Tony could not spare much thought for her when he was much more worried about himself.

The thing laughed, horribly, it was something that did not know how to laugh. It was more of a wheeze. “Relax” it said. “I wouldn’t make you. What, you don’t like her? You only like Cihad Tariq, don’t you? The two of you always used to go at it like rabbits. You used to make him hurt you. You’d ask him to put his hands around your throat so you couldn’t breathe. Did you really like that or did it just excite you to be so close to dying? I was always there, you know, watching you. You were funny.”

“Stop,” said Tony, stupid and frozen and very afraid. The knowledge that this thing had about his sex life with Cihad was obscene.

“Are you excited now?” It asked, then leaned over him, put both of its hands on his shoulders. Kassidy smelled like rotten meat and her eyes had filmed over. “Are you aroused to be so close to dying?”

For the first time in his life, Tony Delmont was positive that he did not want to die.

What he wanted did not matter. The thing inside of Kassidy’s body leaned forward and pressed its open mouth against his. This was something that did not understand what kissing was and it did so sloppily, with teeth. Panic finally burst through Tony and he tried to shove it away from him or pull his head back, but the creature had monstrous strength despite its 90 pound frame. At first he thought that it was only kissing him, acting on some sick impulse of wanting to experience human desire. It was not.

Hot, slimy fluid gushed from its mouth and into Tony’s. He began to choke and gag, his throat closed up against it, but there was too much of it and he found himself being forced to swallow. The liquid was thick, the consistency of pudding, and had a metallic, organy taste. When he tried harder to pull himself away, the creature just pushed itself against his face with greater force and their teeth clicked together. He could hear its stomach constricting and pumping as it regurgitated.

There had never been an experience in his life so abject and humiliating, forced to kiss something that was vomiting into his mouth. He had seen documentaries where mother birds regurgitated food to feed their young and this seemed to be a repulsive twisting of that act. He could only think of his need to get away, to try and get whatever was inside of him out.

The demon pulled its face away from him. Its mouth hung open, dripping black slime down its chin and shirt. It dragged the back of one hand across its mouth, then spat on him, and more of the black slime hit him directly in his good eye.

“Was that good for you?” it asked in Kassidy’s voice.

Tony’s mind had just about decided that this was all a fucked up nightmare, that this wasn’t really happening to him when--

IT NEEDED TO GET ITS GENETIC MATERIAL INTO HIS BODY TO CHANGE IT, IN THE SAME WAY THAT ROSIE’S BODY HAD BEEN CHANGED. IT NEEDED HIM TO CHANGE BEFORE IT TOOK HIM TO THE LOST COLONY BECAUSE IT WAS GOING TO STRAP HIM INTO A DEVICE THAT WOULD ALLOW A NEW CREATURE TO BURST FROM HIS BODY. A REAL BODY, A SUSTAINABLE BODY THAT WOULD NOT DIE. AND WHEN IT OCCUPIED THAT NEW FORM, IT WOULD BE FREE TO ROAM THE EARTH, CONSUMING EVERYTHING THAT MOVED.

Tony sucked in lungfuls of air so that he could scream.

The door to the room opened and in walked Casey Agapama, holding two mugs of tea. She looked at Tony, tied to a chair, panting and shivering. She looked at the thing that had once been Kassidy, leaning over him with its black mouth. For a fraction of a second, she was perfectly still, but that was only as long as she needed. The polar opposite of Tony, she instantly took action. She dropped the mugs, bounded across the room with four long strides, and seized the creature with both arms to wrench it away from him.

Immediately, Tony bent to untie the cords binding his ankles, then collapsed to his hands and knees. He jammed two fingers down the back of his throat as hard as he could to trigger his gag reflex. A little trick from his years of drinking. It took a few tries, then Tony heaved and vomited at least a cup of black slime onto the wooden floor. The smell was unbelievable. He repeated this process until he saw only bile and the remnants of his lunch. His stomach lurched, he dry heaved. Was it enough? It had to be enough.

“What the fuck?” Casey yelled, struggling with the creature. She had pinned its arms to its side in a bear hug but it was fighting hard to get away from her. “Kassidy! Calm down, what the hell is going on?!”

“Anthony, you stupid insect!” It kicked its legs, no match for Casey’s strength. Despite everything, it was still inside of a dying body. “I’ll just do it again!”

PRODUCING THE FLUID TOOK A LOT OUT OF IT.

Tony scrabbled up, dizzy and his head spinning from vomiting, terrified and half insane. The instinct to freeze was over, replaced by the older instinct to drop everything and run. He could just go, just go far away. The woods, the wilderness, anything was preferable to being stuck here in the same place as the demon of the Void. He would die in the woods, yes, he would starve and freeze, but that was better, that was so much better. Killing himself would be so much better.

But no. He had to go home somehow. He couldn’t die. Cynthia was still out there.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Casey gave the demon a little shake, as if that would bring Kassidy back. Of course she thought that. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that Kassidy was gone and that this was just a hollowed out shell, a body for a parasite. “Calm down, OK, just calm down!”

Tony scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. The black slime that had been spat on him felt tacky on his skin, it gummed up the fabric of his shirt. He tried to calm his breathing as he drummed up the courage to look at the thing again.

“You would have liked it better if I had choked you,” said the creature from the Void. It stopped fighting against Casey now, realizing the futility. Much easier, much better to try to use its words to try to hurt him. It blinked rapidly, its eyes rolling back under its eyelids, smiled so that it showed Kassidy’s decaying teeth. “I’ll remember that. I’ll remember that next time. You don’t want to die anymore, Anthony? I’ll remember. Someday you’ll beg me to let you die but I’m not going to let you.”

He did not want to die. Not really. Not anymore.

“There’s not going to be a next time,” said Tony. He pressed himself back, further away from it, pressed against the wall. His stomach spasmed and churned and he knew that it didn’t matter that he had thrown up. Somehow it had infected him. Something really bad was about to happen to him, something that he did not understand. He knew that, but he also knew that he would not allow this creature to have a second chance. “You-- you’re gonna go back to the Void.”

And it just laughed at him. Laughed and laughed.

There was no getting away from it and Tony knew it. All he could do was again, wipe his hand across his mouth.

CYNTHIA

Cynthia Tariq-Delmont found herself in a dream that was not her own.

She saw a planet covered in a warm green ocean, lit by the gentle shine of four moons. Beneath the water lived a species of shapeshifting chitinous invertebrates. Somehow she knew about them, she knew that they had lived on this world for millions of years, that their civilization was unlike her own, but was a civilization nonetheless. The shapeshifting creatures swam through their oceans, communicated with one another as a psychic hivemind, and raised their gelatinous larvae until they grew exoskeletons and could protect themselves from predators.

And she knew that they were scared. She could feel the chittering fear of the hive. Because something, some predator, had ripped a hole into their world to devour them. The warm green ocean was turning black with the slime that made up their bodies, the water boiling with ammonia.

Cynthia blinked and found that she was under the water, inside a cave-like structure built from porous pink rock with holes in the roof that let light from the four moons inside. But the light was darkening now, going out, because the moons were being eaten up. Everything was being eaten up. The water, the invertebrate creatures, even the light itself. Inside of the cave were a pair of mate-bonded creatures, along with a translucent egg sac containing a couple hundred of their larval offspring. She looked at them and sensed their desperation, a desperation that was shared across thousands of others belonging to the hive-mind.

The mate-bonded pair of creatures were the same size as she was, with segmented black carapaces and fan shaped tails. The heads were unusual; five eyes and a clawed proboscis extending over toothy mouths. Somehow she knew that this was the usual adult form of these creatures, but that they could shapeshift into any form they wished. The larvae in the jelly-like egg sac were only tiny black balls of slime, each no bigger than her thumbnail. Over the next several hundred years the larvae would grow larger and larger until they reached maturity.

Cynthia looked at the egg sac and felt a pang. She knew that her sibling was in there.

These creatures did not have a spoken language. They did not need one, they communicated through the psychic hive. Individuals could communicate their personal thoughts and feelings by changing their color like a squid does. She watched the mate-bonded pair dapple their carapaces red, she watched them nuzzle each other with their proboscises, then touch their egg sac.

A plan. The invertebrate species had their own magic, their own priests. If the predator destroying their planet could rip a hole between worlds, so could they.

They wanted to protect their offspring.

Inside the egg-sac, the little black larvae squirmed and looked up at their parents. They were too small to be a part of the hive-mind, too small to understand what was going on.

The water around Cynthia turned black and she could sense the presence of something huge, something with only one purpose: to consume. A high pitched buzz filled her head and she watched the carapace of the mate-bonded pair of invertebrates dapple a terrified yellow.

And she woke up in her own bed.

The dream had been so nonsensical and surreal that for a moment she considered disregarding it as the result of eating pizza a little too close to sleep. But those thoughts, those images, could not have possibly come from her mind, they had to be from someone else. She looked at the digital clock on her bedside table. 5:00am. Cynthia rubbed her face and got out of bed, stumbled around in the dark.

Careful to be quiet so that she did not wake up her Dad or Tony, she walked out of her room, into the hall, and into her sibling’s room. Until she was 9, Billy had always slept with her. They had liked to curl up inside the top drawer of her dresser. But then her Mom had died and they all had to move; the new house had three bedrooms. Dad had said that it was OK for Billy to have their own. Good thing too, since now Billy had grown larger and more...solid, less apt to spend long periods of time in a form that resembled a blob of pudding.

Billy’s room was cleaner than hers was. They liked the blue walls. They had a dresser full of clothes for when they wanted to go out in public on days that their body was solid, visible to people who didn’t have Abilities. Pictures of the family on the dresser. A picture of Mom too, even though she had never actually been able to see Billy. It was the kind of room that a normal 14 year old kid would have. Their bed was underneath their window and it had blue blankets.

Her sibling was tangled face-up in their sheets. Their body was mostly humanoid, but could only manage monochromatic colors. When they slept, they liked to wear pajamas, and had a loose tank top and shorts on. Billy’s face was screwed up, 4 eyes closed tight. They made squeaky, whimpering sounds.

“Hey.” Cynthia put her hand on her sibling’s arm. Their skin-- if it could be called skin-- was always clammy and had the texture of soft silly putty when they were in this form. “Hey.”

Billy opened all of their eyes. Two eyes were where they were supposed to be on a normal human face and two smaller eyes were higher up on their forehead. “Huh?” they said. Billy’s voice sounded almost exactly like her’s did, since they had learned to speak from mimicry. “Are we late for school?”

“No. You were dreaming.”

“Oh.” Billy sat up and untangled themselves from their sheets. “Weird. I think I dreamed that I was drowning, but I don’t need to breathe.”

Cynthia thought about the planet covered in a warm green ocean and its four moons. Maybe they didn’t need to know about that. Maybe knowing about that would make them upset. It was hard enough for them here, trying to be a normal kid when they weren’t one. She reached up to take off the silk scarf she used to keep her braids neat.

School didn’t start for another 3 hours so it was useless to try and get back to sleep. “Sorry. I thought you were having a nightmare, it woke me up.”

They shrugged. Billy’s face rippled and changed, rearranging and sucking the two extraneous eyes back inside their head. It was getting easier and easier for them to appear like a highschool aged kid. They had more control over their body, no longer worrying that they might grow an extra pair of arms or split in two when they got upset. While their true form-- their larval form, Cynthia thought-- was still a 35 pound mass of black slime, they preferred to look human. Now that others could see them in certain forms, they wanted to make friends and experience life.

Billy rolled out of bed. They were taller and thinner than she was, and in this form their skin was stark white and their hair and the inside of their mouth was black. “What time is it?”

“It’s five.”

“D’you think Dad is awake yet?” Billy smoothed down their pajama top.

“Dunno. Let’s see.”

Downstairs, the lights were already on. Dad woke up early to go for a run before work most days. It looked like he had already been in the kitchen and left; the tea kettle was still warm. Cynthia opened the fridge to look for something to eat.

Usually their fridge was only stocked with healthy food. Dad was particular about that kind of thing, and willing to shell out extra money if it meant getting himself and his kids real meat and eggs instead of the insect-protein alternatives. He bought fresh produce and whole grains at great expense to himself. Things like sugar cereal and snacks had always been rare. Now, however, Cynthia’s birth father Tony Delmont had moved back in, after almost 5 years of absence. And Tony’s tastes were….more proletarian. It meant that there were heavily processed toaster strudels and bags of chips on the house now.

Tony. Cynthia was still not sure what she thought. She was not yet comfortable with calling him by anything but his name. The years he had spent in her life could be counted on the fingers of one hand. She’d give him a chance. If he left again, for the 3rd time, that chance was all he would get.

She shoved a couple of toaster strudels in the microwave, two for herself and one for her sibling. Billy didn’t need to eat, just like they didn’t need to breathe-- they just liked to.

“Did you finish your geometry homework?” she asked her sibling, waiting for the microwave to beep.

Billy sat down at the kitchen table. Their posture was normal, if not a little slouchy. A few years ago, they would have just melted into a black blob of goo instead of trying to maintain their physical form. “Uhhhh. No. I’ll copy yours.”

“No the heck you won’t.”

“I’ll copy Rach--”

“What are you doing up so early?” Suddenly, Tony was in the kitchen with them, having walked in silently from the living room. His long hair hung around his shoulders and he wore the same clothes from the night before. His eyepatch was not on, and Cynthia found it hard not to stare at the unnatural whiteness of his prosthetic. “Morning, Cyn.”

“Morning.” She hesitated for a moment, then walked over and hugged him. Hugging Tony was always awkward, it felt like he did not have much experience doing it. Still, he wrapped his thin arms around her and patted her on the back. “Sorry if we woke you up.”

Billy said nothing, but their hair started to stick up from their head and their face started to split, revealing the black goo inside of them. As if noticing this, they used their hands to press their face back together, and hunched over, watching Tony.

The relationship between her sibling and her birth father was the source of a lot of underlying tension in the household. When Tony came back again 2 months ago, Billy acted the way they always did-- friendly and curious. But Tony’s disgust and fear was not something that he could hide. He’d cringe away to keep them from touching him, and would look at them the way that someone looks at something that wants to cause harm. Tony never said anything, never did anything, but his feelings were obvious.

And it was hurting Billy’s feelings.

Tony stretched and pulled a band from his wrist so that he could tie his hair back. “I was awake. I was talking with your Dad this morning.”

Sometimes he just said things like that, not realizing how uncomfortable it made other people. Tony was an open book. He didn’t lie, he didn’t even...half-lie, like he didn’t hide what he was thinking or feeling. Maybe that was part of having the Sight. Or, maybe that was Tony’s way of having the Sight.

As for Cynthia, she kept herself closed off. She didn’t want to See.

The microwave beeped, and she left Tony’s side to grab breakfast, putting the toaster strudels onto plates. She handed a plate to Billy and sat down at the table next to them. Tony sat down on her other side and wordlessly scrolled on his communicator.

“I heard Lulu Boggs wants to be prom queen,” Cynthia told her sibling, since she was unable to think of anything to talk about with her father. It wasn’t just because he was an adult-- Cynthia got along with adults just fine-- it was because she didn’t really know him. “You think anyone’s gonna vote for her?”

“Maybe,” said Billy. They bit off a corner of toaster strudel and their teeth grew longer and sharper as they ate. “Have you figured out who you’re going to ask to the dance? I’m gonna ask Andronicus Lemay, I think he really likes me. We’d make a cute couple.”

“Ewww,” Cynthia said jokingly. Andy was an Artificial in their class, weird but nice. She didn’t know who she was going to ask to Prom, but would probably end up asking Leah. It wasn’t that important to her.

Tony’s gaze had snapped up from the flat screen of his device and onto Billy. Some of the color had drained from his face. His good eye was very wide. “What do you mean, couple?” he asked them, his voice a little shaky.

There had never been a moment where Tony had spoken directly to them. Usually when Tony was in the same room as Billy, he didn’t even look at them. This had been the source of more than a few arguments between him and Dad over the last few months. The shock registered on Billy’s face. For a second, their skin rippled, like they were going to collapse back into their slime form. “Huh? Like date? Like me and Andy?”

The air in the kitchen grew heavy. Tony’s good eye was very blue, blue-er than blue.

“You-- why would you do that?”

“Tony,” said Cynthia haltingly, sensing what was about to happen without knowing why.

Billy was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with Tony. Their face split down the middle, all the way down to their neck and their hair began to float, stand on end. They shrugged, almost helpless, not understanding. “I dunno? He’s cute and I like him? What are you asking me?”

Tony smiled like he was in great pain. Like he was hurting. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head. “D-Does this boy know you’re...you know…”

“What, that I’m trans?” asked Billy. A few small eyes popped up on their foreheads and blinked. “Yeah, he knows. He’s nice, I went to get ice cream with him last week.”

“No. Does he know you’re not a person?”

There it was. The terrible thing. The terrible thing that she had always known Tony believed, but had never imagined he would say out loud. Billy stood up from the table abruptly and walked out of the kitchen. They were able to maintain emotional control enough to remain bipedal, but Cynthia could see that their body was slipping and changing. She heard them walk upstairs and shut the door to their bedroom. The fact that they did not slam the door in anger was indicative of their personality.

Furious on the behalf of her sibling, Cynthia stood up too. She grabbed her plate up off the table and clattered it into the sink. “What’s your problem?” she asked Tony, her voice raising just below a yell. “Why would you say that? That was so hurtful!”

Being almost yelled at made Tony flinch a little bit. “I know you care about them, but they’re not a real person. They’re not.You don’t know about those Things like I do, you don’t know what they can do to people. Billy just said that they want to go out with some boy? How is that fair to that boy? Some...some Thing just deciding that it likes you?”

7 YEARS AGO TONY TOUCHED HER FATHER’S BOOK AND AN ENTITY FROM BETWEEN DIMENSIONS NOTICED HIM. IT HAS FOLLOWED HIM EVER SINCE. IT HOLLOWED OUT HER MOTHER’S BODY. IT WANTS TONY’S BODY. IT LOVES HIM AND HATES HIM AND NEEDS HIM AND IT IS HUNGRY AND WILL NEVER STOP TRYING--

Cynthia closed her eyes to block herself from whatever knowledge she had just accessed. She did not need to know it. She did not need to understand Tony’s reasons for being so afraid of her sibling. Even if those reasons were valid, it still wasn’t right for him to make them feel...othered.

“Whatever,” she said. Tony looked miserable, staring down at his hands. “Billy is a person. They’re just a kid. You’ve been through a lot, but so have they. Something ate their whole family, their whole planet. I’ve Seen it.”

“I’ve Seen things too,” Tony said, very quietly. “Please, you have to understand. Something a lot like that thing did something bad to me, it’s still doing something to me. I—I just don’t want that happening to anyone else. These things, they can…change people’s bodies.”

“But you know that’s different.” Cynthia thought about the way her body had changed. Thought about how she was stronger than any other kid in her class, thought about how when her baby teeth fell out they were replaced by sharp canines and incisors. “What’s so wrong about Billy liking someone if he likes them back? They should get to be happy too.”

“They shouldn’t even be capable of liking a human that way.”

She knew that he wasn’t really thinking about Billy’s innocent crush on Andy Lemay. Tony was thinking about himself. Thinking about himself and some other...thing….that had set its sights on him, some other thing that had changed his body. Cynthia could understand this and could understand why he was hurt and afraid, but could not accept the way that he had just treated her sibling.

Billy was not the same as the thing that had set its sights on Tony.

But she didn’t have anything more she could say to him, to her father. Cynthia only shook her head and left the kitchen to be with her sibling. She left Tony alone with his dark thoughts.

#writing

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beelieveinfandom · 7 years ago

Text

Haunted and Hunted Chapter Four

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 AO3 Link

AO3 is highly advised due to Tumblr having formatting issues.

“And you’re sure this won't kill me somehow?” Charlie asked.

“Yes. Absolutely. If anything goes wrong we’ll stop at once, and even if we don’t, anything going unusually will activate this spell, instantly ending the ritual.” Renee was pointing at a ring of runes inside the arcane circle.

The circle was, outside of the killswitch addition, a very simple one. A pentacle drawn in chalk on the hard cement floor with the five symbols of banishment at each of the star’s corners. It was the simplest reliable banishment spell possible, pretty much only able to work on consenting entities or those who lacked any sort of intent of their own.

I worked pretty hard on that cancel button and I’m like, 80% sure it’ll be fine.

You’re telling me this has a 20% chance of killing me‽

I mean, maybe?

I’m pretty much pulling numbers out of my ass here, to be quite honest.

everything you say is so reassuring.

Hey, I’m the one that advocated against this from the start.

You wanted us to do nothing!

I wanted us to wait for more data. My friend will get us the original summoning circle, and reverse engineering it will be way easier and safer than just guessing at what might work.

But how long will that take? And how will your ‘friend’ even contact us, assuming they get the plans? We’re gonna be in the middle of the woods away from all electronics for a while.

That’s hardly a concern. He’ll find a way; he’s quite crafty.

Anyway.

You’re the one at risk so it’s your decision. You don’t trust my friend? Fine. Try banishing me. Just know that there is danger involved.

“Charlie?” Renee said, “are you ready for us to begin?”

“Um,” Charlie said. “Sure. Let’s… Let’s get this over with.”

“Make sure to let us know if anything feels off.”

“How am I supposed to know if something feels of if I don’t know what getting exorcised is suppose to feel like?”

“Um…” Renee said, “we’ll go slowly. Try and imagine what a normal exorcism might feel like and let us know if this feels different.”

“I’m having second thoughts. Actually, I think I’m probably on fifth or sixth thoughts by now.”

“It’s okay to back out. We don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll be the first to admit I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Vin said. “On the other hand, how much worse can shit actually get?”

“That’s actually a good point,” Charlie said. “I already could easily die via possession, or get captured by creepy scientists, or like, trip on a rock and die. Why not add ‘death from good intentions’ to the list? Yeah, let’s do this!”

Charlie walked into the center of the circle and sat down. Renee started chanting a simple chant in modern English. Older dialects and languages tended to be more powerful, but they were easier to fuck up and there was little need for making the ritual as powerful as possible.

“Um,” Charlie said after a minute, “is it supposed to hurt? Like a lot? Like my skin’s on fire?”

Renee stopped chanting at once. “No, it’s not supposed to hurt at all! Are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’,” Charlie said. “If your definition includes ‘feels like I just got a really bad sunburn but it’s kinda fading’ then yeah, I’m okay. Or at least as okay as I was before, which was already pushing the definition of ‘okay’.”

“I’m sorry. It would seem that they did tie your skin into the ritual they used.” Renee sighed. “I have no idea where to go from here.”

“Well, maybe mysterious computer friend will come through,” Charlie said. “If not, well, guess I’ll die.”

“Charlie.” Renee met Charlie’s gaze. “You’re not going to die. There are still other things we can try.”

“Really?” Charlie broke away from Renee’s eye contact, shifting zir gaze to the floor. “Like what?”

“Ah...” Renee’s face passed through several expressions before settling on ‘student woken up when called upon to demonstrate a problem for the class’. “Well, we still have time to think of things we can try.”

“Or maybe the situation is just boned and there is nothing we can do,” Vin said. “Like I hate to be that guy but sometimes shit’s just irrevocably fucked.”

“Vin!”

“What? We were all thinkin’ it. Someone had to unpack that shit from the back of their mind and put it on the table to be beheld in all its awful smelly glory.” Vin shrugged. “I still got a bad feeling; I don’t think we’re going to find something that will work.”

“You still have a bad feeling even after we stopped the ritual?” Renee asked. “Are you sure it’s about Charlie at all?”

He shrugged. “What part of ‘I don’t know a thing, my guy’ do you have trouble understanding?”

“That’s not good.” Renee slithered around the chalk circle on the ground. “Maybe we should start moving.”

“Yeah,” Vin said. “Maybe.”

Cleaning the circle off the rough cement floor was easy, which was good because they were in a hurry and it was generally considered rude to leave ritual materials strewn about someone else’s place.

Getting their things together was also pretty quick as they hadn’t had any reason to unpack much the night before. It took only a few minutes to add the few items that Marcus had given them to their things.

Their footsteps echoed faintly through the otherwise silent early morning hallways as they went back through the same path that Marcus had led them through the day before. Walking through the dim corridors they saw no sign of their host, but they figured that she wouldn’t mind them disappearing without saying goodbye.

The crisp outdoor air chilled their lungs as they left the building. They headed East - Marcus had said that it was the shortest way out of the forest and Renee wanted to scout out the area outside. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the woods yet - they didn’t have anywhere to go and the woods were large and secluded enough to be a decent place to hide - but she at least wanted a solid idea of what was beyond.

Cliffs rose to either side of them as they walked. It made Renee nervous, but suggesting alternate paths didn’t alleviate the dark feeling that hung over Vin like a bad toupée, and this path seemed to be the easiest way East. The relative flatness and rocky nature of the ground suggested that they were in a dried out riverbed, and none of them were going to complain about having slightly less underbrush to navigate through.

Renee was being careful. Vin’s intuition was telling them something was wrong and she was not going to let whatever fate had in store catch them unawares. She was almost entirely focused on her farsight, trusting in her companions to keep an eye on the immediate surroundings.

Her first thought had been that something was happening at the facility, but when she checked she found the place utterly immersed in chaos. People were rushing out of the place, alarm lights were flashing, a small fire (normal and red/orange in appearance for once) was raging in one of the computer rooms. It seemed unlikely that they were going to be able try anything. She supposed it could be an elaborate ruse but it seemed unlikely that they would actually set their building on fire just in case she happened to check on them.

So whatever was going to happen was already in the works. And was quite possibly unavoidable, judging from Vin’s current state.

She supposed it was possible that whatever was going to happen had nothing to do with the facility at all, and that they were about to die to a supervolcano explosion or a meteor strike or something. There wasn’t really anything that they would be able to do about a natural disaster, and it would explain why no suggestions altered Vin’s intuition.

She decided to stop thinking about that. There was no point wasting her time worrying about things she couldn’t do anything about.

It was possible the small fire at the facility could rage out of control and burn the whole forest down. It was kinda dry. How dry did it even need to be to burn green wood anyway? She really should have studied more wilderness survival. Now they were all going to burn to death and she wouldn’t even know how impressed to be that the fire managed to spread.

She decided to Stop Thinking About That. She wasn’t wasting her time worrying about things she couldn’t do anything about.

She managed to go about a minute before checking back on the fire at the facility. It seemed to be smaller than it had been when she first noticed it. There were sprinklers on. They were probably going to wreck all the computer hardware in that room.

She took a few breaths and shifted her focus away from the facility. The fire wasn’t going be a problem. There was no point watching the facility anymore. Whatever threat menaced them now was already on its way.

The other day the doctor - Dana, their name had been Dana - had been adamant on getting someone involved who was qualified to deal with Tyrone. That was probably what was happening. Not a massive fire, not a supervolcano, just someone who had some way of tracking them and good enough mobility that they couldn’t be evaded with good intuition alone. Someone who would have a computer on them and wouldn’t be fooled by simple illusions.

Renee still had no idea how, exactly, she was supposed to deal with this, but combed through the woods with her farsight anyway, figuring that if she could at least see the threat she might be able to better assess the situation.

The group continued in silence for a ways. No one really felt like talking.

The silence that hung over them wasn’t a comfortable one. The sense of dread that weighed down Vin had spread to everyone, and they were all just waiting to hear the grenade’s pin drop.

And drop it most certainly did.

There was nothing unusual about the patch of thin forest they were traversing through until the trees wavered and disappeared, revealing a clearing with a single short person grinning ahead of them.

The group stopped suddenly, with Renee putting herself in front of the other two.

Looking around, she noticed people with guns pointed towards them on the cliffs to either side.

“You didn’t think you were the only one that could make illusions, did you?” the person said. Their skin was dark and their white hair reached just past the small of their back. They were dressed very formally, in well-fitting clothing that was far too clean for someone trekking through the forest to be wearing.

“Oh, you really shouldn’t look so shocked, dear.” Their voice was high pitched and sounded sort of like someone attempting to talk with a German accent after having one described secondhand to them, which happened to be exactly what a modern Australian accent sounded like.

“You didn’t actually think that a few simple illusions and a bit of luck could keep you from me, did you? Now, that’s just darling? ” they said, clapping their hands together. “Anyways, let’s get on with things, shall we?”

A magicore floated to their hands from behind them. It was a smooth orb, covered with yellow lines of light that danced around at the magi’s touch. The magi made a few sweeping gestures, strumming the magicore as their hands moved around it, and then flicked both their wrists, causing a bright yellow light to shoot away from them at Charlie.

Charlie barely had time to register the light before it hit zir, lifting zir off the ground and illuminating zir body in a blinding flash. This only lasted a moment before ze fell out of the air and consciousness.

Alcor managed to land in a manner that didn’t even vaguely resemble elegant, but at least didn’t hurt the body at all.

“So you cannot be sedated, such a shame,” they said. “I take it that now I’m dealing you and not some little child?”

“I’m amazed you still have the resources left to bother with us.”

“Oh, they paid me in advance darling; I couldn’t care less about what happens to them.”

“You might want to double check that that transfer actually went through.”

“Who cares . What matters is that this is you! Oh, how exciting this all is. I’ve been waiting for years for this moment, you know. Admittedly, this is not quite how I saw this encounter going, but you can’t let a few details get you down, am I right?”

Alcor stared at the magi.

“Let’s do introductions, shall we? Not that you need any introductions, your reputation precedes you, but I’m afraid mine does not. At least, not in your current state. Normally I imagine you have no need for introductions at all. Must make social encounters very convenient. Anyway, I’m Magi Briana Hurtzog, she/her, at your service. Well, not at your service per say, but you know what I mean.”

“Am I supposed to be pleased to meet you or something?” Alcor all but snarled. “Because I really cannot fully encapsulate how much that is not the case.”

“How could you say such a thing? This scar goes deep into my heart.” She dramatically covered her heart with a hand. “Anyways you should come with me and we can go get you out of that ridiculous body.”

“And then what?” Alcor crossed Charlie’s arms.

“I’m not going to lie,” she said. “What happens next is not exactly in your favor. But it will be a great learning opportunity for everybody involved and I think we can all agree that that is what really matters.”

“And what about the kids?” Alcor asked. “What happens to them?”

“What? Them? I don’t care about them . They can go back to prancing through the woods or whatever it is that they were doing. I’m not their babysitter.” She waved her hand absently. “That said, if you don’t come along nicely, well, I don’t care about them. Or specifically what will happen to them. What all of these armed guards will do to them. I’m going to have them killed is what I’m saying here.”

“No, I got that.”

“Oh good. One can never be sure.”

“I’m many things, but a moron isn’t one of them,” he said dryly.

“Some people have trouble with the subtext, darling.” She spread her fingers wide. “There is no shame in that.”

“Do you people have any tricks up your sleeve besides threatening children?”

“Oh!” Her face lit up. “I could also threaten you directly if you’d prefer.”

Briana’s hands spun around her magicore, tiny bolts of electricity reaching between it and her fingers.

She snapped, pointing at Alcor.

It was like being slammed into a wall. Pain - and not the interesting kind - blossomed through his very being. The world spun. He stumbled backwards, or maybe just thought he did because the body didn’t seem to actually change position.

“Not very pleasant, I hope? Just a little something I’ve been working on in my spare time. That was roughly one percent of what it’s capable of. If my calculations are correct I imagine that at full power it would be capable of rendering you incapacitated for a number of hours.”

“Why the hell didn’t you start with that?” he growled.

“Language, darling. There are children about. As for your question, I was hoping we could keep this civil and not have to resort to threats of torture.”

“So instead you open with threats of child murder.”

“Exactly, darling. Now I think we’ve wasted enough time with all of this chitter chatter. Shall we be going, or are you going to make things unnecessarily difficult?”

Renee looked around. She was not going to panic this time. There was a way out, she knew that. She just had to find it. She was smart. Clever. She could do this. Would do this.

Breathe in

Breathe out

Alcor was still talking, having taken a few steps towards the magi. It was hard to say if he had a plan or was just testing the waters. She had to assume that he didn’t have a plan. Worst case scenario, there would be redundancy. Who was she kidding, worst case scenario they were all going to BE FINE. This was Fine. She just needed a plan.

Breathe in

She was fine.

Vin was casually looking at the gunpeople periodically spaced around the cliff’s edge.

Breathe out.

Good. Now go talk to Vin.

“How are you so calm about all this?” Renee whispered, more harshly than she intended. It wasn’t what she intended to say, but upon reflection she couldn’t figure out what she meant to say outside of ‘something else’.

“What?” he replied. “It’s not like we were going to remain valuable assets forever. This was pretty inevitable.”

“Not it isn’t! We’ve gotten so far. Their building is on fire, for Pete’s sake. We just need to find a way out, it’s going to be okay. We are going to be okay.”

Breathe.

“Hey Renee?” Vin said.

“What?”

“I just wanted to say, thanks for everything. These last few days,” he laughed, “okay, these last few days have been a fucking shitshow, but it’s a shitshow that I’m really glad I got the opportunity to experience. I never would have gotten out of there on my own. If it wasn’t for you... I didn’t really have any memories from before, you know, so just having this time out here, having gotten to see and do all this shit before I die… It means a lot to me.”

“Vin, stop talking like that, we’re going to be fine -”

“This is fine,” he shrugged. “Well, it’s kinda bullshit that they are going to kill you too. I’m sorry I can’t help you there; someone as great as you really does deserve better.”

“Vin please, no one is going to die. We just need a plan.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the realistic one? We’ve seen way too much. The only reason we aren’t dead yet is they want to make sure that Tyrone’s pacified first so he doesn’t get mad enough to explode Charlie and burninate everyone.”

“But hey!” He beamed. “Look on the bright side. This is by far the coolest thing to ever happen to us, and I don’t know about you but I’ve been dying to participate in something this dramatic.”

“How can you -” She shook her head. “No. We are going to get out of this alive. We just… can’t you feel anything about the future? There has to be something.”

“Nah. I ain’t got shit right now.”

“Please! You have to have something. Anything! It just... even some little random impulse.”

“Hey, you know that I can’t control this shit.” He laughed completely mirthlessly. “And I really don’t think you want me to follow my impulses right now. Not really any need to rush it at this point, anyway.”

“Vin come on, there’s something. There has to be something. What about what they were having you do back at the lab? You had some amount of control over that, didn’t you?”

“Renee! I can’t just…”

“You haven’t even tried! You’ve said yourself that you don’t know how this works, the extents of your capabilities!”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes and then closed them. “Look, I’m making my best constipated face while wishing really hard on -”

His eyes went wide, pupils constricted to nothing.

“Oh fuck.”

The scar along his forehead shot open, his third eye dilated to blackness.

Vin crumpled.

Collapsed.

Renee froze. Balled her hands, nails drawing blood. Reached out, grabbing, pulling him to her chest.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. Please say something. Please be okay. You have to be okay.”

She was shaking. Holding him. Tighter, probably, than was wise. Lower torso curling in on itself, pushing and flipping. Slamming against the ground. Her eyes raced around, looking for answers, a way out, something, anything . For.

The gunpeople were alarmed by something, shuffling around, taking aim. Had she made too large of a scene? She wrapped herself around Vin as much as she could. She had a lot of body mass; she could probably take a shot or two, right?

She again looked for any sort of out. For a sign. For a plan.

She could… she could probably project pain with her illusions. Pain was a sensory thing.

That would have to make aiming harder, right?

The gunpeople weren’t aiming at her and Vin. They were focused farther away.

At Charlie.

No.

At Tyrone.

He was next to the magi.

When did that happen?

He didn’t seem to notice the guns. He didn’t seem to notice the danger he was in.

That he was putting Charlie in.

The magi was weaving her arm through the air, casting some spell.

Tyrone was so close. He took the arm.

The gun people were going to-

Renee closed her eyes, keeping the location of the gunpeople in her mind.

She thought about needles. Of scalpels. Of being huddled on a bed too small for her as something ripped through her brain, through her insides.

Screams broke her concentration. The people with guns were screaming.

She was doing that. Oh god that was her she -

No.

She was doing this. This was the plan now. They were screaming and she had to do this.

The magi pulled her arm back.

“Really?” she said. “I think I can manage to handle all the might and physical prowess of an overweight child, darling.”

He was smiling. Baring teeth. Lips stretched farther than they should.

He pushed his claws into her arm. Through the thick fingers and useless nails of the body that contained him. He pushed , sinking into her arm, sinking past her skin, past her flesh, past her bones, into Her.

She realized what he was doing. All her cockiness evaporated in an instant, confidence replaced by desperate anger.

She yanked her arm back, shouting with no words but purely emotion.

Her skin, her flesh, her bones: they easily pulled out of the weak and bloody grip of the child.

His claws were still gripping her Arm, though.

And without her Arm, her skin, flesh, and bones fell limp at her shoulder.

Alcor.

Pulled.

She was screaming. She was panic. She was terror. The emotions filled Alcor, rushing through him like fire. It had been far too long since he had done anything like this. It had been far too long since he let himself do anything fun .

She was writhing in agony, her scream becoming the air he breathed. She genuinely seemed to think that somehow, with the right combination of movements and actions, she could possibly get out of this.

Watching her final sliver of hope die was hilarious.

Her soul was everything. Even the small amount he consumed through his grip was freedom from the tight compressed confinement that he hadn’t realized he’d been feeling. Energy rushed through him as a wave, giddy lightning that tingled and vibrated and pushed out all the stress and frustration and utter bullshit of the past. It was taking a beautiful, intricate mechanism and slamming it on the ground, watching it shatter into something new and even more beautiful. It was jumping on a table in a crowd and screaming . It was overturning a picnic table into a river. It was standing up and decking someone after years of silent discomfort. It was freedom, true freedom. It was the promise that this moment could be truly wonderful if you would just let it.

Who cared what these stupid mortals had been trying to do? He was Alcor! He was the single strongest entity in the whole dimension! They only existed because he permitted it, because they were entertaining. Why should he give a fuck about what ridiculous things they did to each other? About what they did on their comically absurd destiny to ensure their own destruction. Why the fuck had he let any of their petty bullshit tie him down?

He was laughing. He was hysterical. Why wouldn’t he be? What did he care if his body ran out of air? It wasn’t like he needed it.

WRONG.

He stopped, smile fading from his face. The magi reduced to a twitching pile of limbs, her soul frozen in his firm grasp.

Oh. that was right. He cared. Him with his stupid boring killjoy self.

He was Alcor. He was the twin star, the brother, the gruncle, and he was strong enough to ignore the temptation of one measly soul.

One really, really tasty soul. That was right there. Bright. Beautiful. Perfect in every way, really. Tingly and light and -

There would be other souls. Better ones.

But there was also this soul right here, and really the future wasn’t real anyway, so…

That would hurt Charlie. The body was absolutely not going to survive having that much energy going through it.

Ze was already dying, though. Would it really be worth it to waste such a wonderful opportunity if ze was just going to die anyway ? Really, who cared about this one person?

Him. He cared. He absolutely cared. He pushed the soul away from his - from Charlie’s body, a tiny spark flickering from where he rejected the energy he already absorbed from it.

He stared at the cyan flame.

Well now.

It wasn’t much of a consolation prize, but if it worked it would be absolutely hilarious.

Charlie’s face resumed its unnatural grin.

He pushed, ever so gently, on the soul. Its energy was already connected to him so it really should take no effort at all to…

The soul exploded in brilliant fire, racing through the valley with the slightest command. Up the cliffs it raced, searing through the rocks, silicon rich sediments melting into hard and rough glass. It was at the top in an instant. At the gunpeople, who were for some reason a disorganized mess, in an instant. It burned -

That would be crossing a line, wouldn’t it.

It melted their guns. And burned their clothes off. People didn’t need clothes to survive. Or hair.

The remaining energy of the soul roared around him like a maelstorm. It was screaming. The tiny bond that connected it to him was a dagger lancing through him - the real him - not the body he wore. It was wonderfully satisfying and delightfully real in a way most magic just wasn’t and -

TYRONE!

Alcor froze, confused, at the sound that echoed around his mind. Tyrone. That meant something to him, right? He looked away from the beautiful storm of fire that danced around him for a source of the interruption.

There was a person close by. The cloud of fear around them was so thick it was almost impossible to see them through it.

“That’s enough,” they (Renee Iris Etheridge, ~16.853 years old, dead in - ) said.

This mortal was trying to tell him what to do.

Something was wrong. Obviously. He was going to have to teach her a lesson.

No.

Something else was wrong.

He knew the exact time and place of Renee’s death.

His omniscience was trickling in.

His omniscience was trickling through.

Charlie's dreamscape wasn’t strong enough anymore.

He had forgotten about Charlie.

A quick internal check revealed that Charlie was still around, but ze felt faint. Which was entirely his fault. He had forgotten about Charlie. He -

“That’s enough, ” Renee said, surprisingly firmly for how much fear swirled around her. “They aren’t a threat anymore. You can let that go.”

For a moment Alcor had no idea what she was talking about. Then he followed her gaze upward, at the soul that he had entrapped.

He stared at the spinning vortex of soul above him. It was screaming just like Henry had screamed. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - do that. Even if the person did deserve it. Wasn’t going to make it beg for the mercy of centuries of digestion.

He.

He let go of the soul. Watched it practically explode in order to dissipate away. Felt its screams fade.

He was going to fucking slaughter some cults when this was all over.

He let Charlie’s body relax.

Renee was curled up around Vin staring wide eyed at Alcor. She was trembling slightly, clutching Vin like a lifesaver.

Vin didn’t look well.

“What was that?” Renee asked, leaning away from Alcor, putting the bulk of herself between them. “I could feel that with senses I can’t even… What was that?”

He paused. There was definitely a wrong answer here.

“As you know, living organisms, especially those with higher levels of cognizance, produce significant amounts of magical energy from their emotions and intent. I just realized that this was an external source of power I could use without channeling it through Charlie’s body.”

“Was that her soul ?” Renee pushed herself a titch farther away from the demon.

“Yes.”

“What’s going to happen to it now?”

“It’s going to need a little time to regenerate the energy I burned,” Alcor said. “But it should reincarnate just like any other soul removed from its body.”

“You’re not a ghost, are you,” she said quietly.

“I never claimed to be one.”

“What are you?

He smiled. “I think that you are a very smart girl with a lot of evidence at her disposal and probably shouldn’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer.”

She kept looking at him.

“Now, do you have the first aid kit that Marcus gave us? I fucked up Charlie’s hand pretty bad back there.” Which was really putting it mildly. Charlie's right palm, where Alcor had pushed through, resembled a failed attempt to cook hamburger more than it did a hand. The skin was badly and unevenly torn, there was uneven charring all over, and it was so bloody that assessing the extent of the damage was impossible.

“Right,” she said, uncurling to get access to her bag. “Right.”

Renee shifted through the contents of her pack. She had thought that she had put things away neatly, but the inside was a mess.

“Why are you helping us?” she asked, looking up.

“Because I want to. Which is pretty much the reason I do anything, really.”

She pulled the first aid pack out of the mess. “That is not... reassuring.”

Alcor sat down and put the first aid kit in Charlie’s lap, picking though it. “It isn’t exactly new information. I’ve been pretty open about the fact that I could leave at any time so long as I didn’t mind killing Charlie.”

“I know that, but I guess I hadn’t really internalized it.” She watched as Alcor cleaned the wound. “Despite what you said, it has felt like you were stuck in the same boat as the rest of us. But you’re only here as long as you want to be. I’ll admit, it makes me nervous. That you might stop wanting to help us. That you could just get tired of all this and leave, taking Charlie’s life with you.”

“I’m not willing to kill Charlie. That isn’t likely to change.” He covered Charlie’s hand with a skin growth spray. “And I’m confident that the friend I contacted will be able to help. Not just with Charlie and my thing, but with getting all of us past this. I may not be stuck here, but I am still in the same boat as you - and we’re going to hit shore soon. Speaking of which -”

Alcor walked over to Magi Briana’s body. Body being the key word - it was not a corpse. One might assume that a body, upon having its soul violently ripped out, might die. One would be wrong. A body doesn’t need a soul to survive. A body needs a soul to be a person. From the body formerly belonging to Magi Briana’s perspective, all that had happened over the past few minutes was that a child gripped its arm with all the strength that a child doesn’t have and it suddenly found itself in the market for a new a tenant. The biohazardous blood from Charlie’s wound was closer to being a threat to the body than anything Alcor had intentionally done.

The body didn’t react to Alcor’s approach. Giving a shit about a literal demon coming towards you while looking like it wants something was the business of a person, which was no longer the body’s problem as of a minute ago.

Alcor took the headset from the body. It, unsurprisingly, did not resist. It didn’t do anything. Soulless bodies were boring .

“Are you seriously leaving Charlie’s hand like that?” Renee asked before Alcor could say anything into the microphone. “You can’t just spray skin growth formula on tissue that’s that badly damaged. You need to treat the injury first.”

“Do you know how to treat something this bad?” Alcor asked.

“When it’s this bad is when you seek medical attention.” She shook her head. “Actually, you should go to a doctor even if it’s a lot better than this. But I can at least make a dressing for it, make sure it stays moist. Let me see it.”

She carefully set Vin down next to her.

Alcor offered her the hand, which she took and started cleaning more thoroughly.

“Hey kid,” Alcor said into the microphone.

The headset was an old fashioned two way radio. It was specifically designed to only use one frequency. The computer on it was so simple that calling it a computer was like calling chihuahua an apex predator. From a logical standpoint, there should be no way it could be infected by a computer virus, as there was really nothing to infect. The Alcor Virus realized this, decided that he didn’t much care for that line of logic, and infected it anyway.

“Hey Dad,” the virus said. “Guess who has no thumbs and fucked up?”

“What happened?”

“They figured out it was me almost as soon as I started doing anything,” the virus said. “Which isn’t surprising; I think they were expecting me. Anyway the long and short of it is they destroyed the servers that had the information you need before I could get it.”

Alcor pinched the bridge of Charlie's nose with zir good hand. “I’m starting to think that they want me to kill them in the most gruesome way possible.”

“It’s not entirely lost, though: I have located a backup. Unfortunately, my ability to access it depends on the cooperation of a human person. I think I should be able to make it work, though.”

“We should plan for what happens if you can’t.”

“For sure. What chance of success do you think you’d have of fixing this on your own?”

“Fairly low.” Alcor sighed. “We’ve determined they’ve incorporated zir skin into the binding ritual but we don't know any details about what they did besides that. If we actually had the skin things might be easier, but we don’t.”

“Why don’t you go get it?”

Alcor raised Charlie’s eyebrows. “You’re suggesting we go back?”

“Why not? Thanks to me and the literal fire the place is pretty well cleared out.”

“Right. Renee mentioned that earlier. Why exactly was the place on fire?”

“They started it,” the Alcor Virus said. “Some moron wanted to be very sure I couldn’t get at those files, I guess. And they weren’t very careful about the surroundings. It’s died down by now, but the combination of that and what I was doing mean that the place is pretty empty now.”

“And you can make sure it stays that way?”

“I pretty much tripped every alarm they had. And since they have no way of knowing if I just tripped an alarm or actually broke something, releasing dangerous quantities of ionizing radiation or carbon monoxide or one of the other half dozen things they were monitoring, it’s going to take more than a day or two for them to determine if it’s safe to actually enter the place. Assuming that they can even get there, which I plan on making hard for them. Did you know that it takes about forty miles for the single road leading to the facility to connect with anything?”

Alcor smiled. “What are you planning on doing with it?”

“I’m not sure yet. I was thinking of taking control of a forklift and stacking some cars on top of each other to make a pileup. There’s also a logging company nearby so it might be easier to just pile some trees on the road, but that’s less fun.”

“Those both sound like they’d work just fine.”

“There’s also a satellite launch happening two states over in a few hours. I’m pretty sure I could hijack the rocket and crash it into the street. They specifically design them to not turn around mid air and crash into the ground, so getting it to do that with any precision would be a challenge, but where’s the fun in life without a little challenge?”

Alcor shook Charlie’s head slightly. “That sounds like it would likely generate more attention then we would want.”

“You’re probably right - but consider - I would get to hack and crash a rocket for the greater good.”

“Do whatever you think is best, and have your fun, just make sure it works. I don’t want another molasses incident here.”

“In my defense,” the Alcor Virus said, “the molasses incident was hilarious.”

“No one is questioning the hilarity of the incident,” Alcor clarified. “I’m just pointing out that it didn’t accomplish what we wanted in the slightest.”

“Which did sort of make the whole thing even more funny.”

“That may be true,” Alcor said with a smile. “But we really can’t afford that sort of mishap right now. Charlie’s life is very much on the line, and if people get through on that road, Vin and Renee are in danger as well.”

“I suppose I could find a different reason to crash a rocket…”

“Do you really need a reason?”

“It’s more funny that way.”

“Well let me know when you’ve blocked that road off, alright?” Alcor said. “I should bring Renee back into the loop.”

“Will do,” the virus said. “It will probably be a little, there’s nothing very close that I can infect.”

“I take it your friend didn’t get the ritual diagram,” Renee said, gently wrapping a bandage around Charlie’s hand.

“No,” Alcor sighed. “They destroyed the digital data before he could. He’s located a backup but will need to get someone to cooperate with him in order to get it.”

“And I’m sure he’s just great at getting people to cooperate with him.”

“It really will depend on what sort of person has backup. If it’s the same person that decided that the correct solution for a data breach was to set a server on fire, he’s going to have to be careful. If it’s a more reasonable person… well, he has a lot he can offer a reasonable person.”

“And in the meantime you’re suggesting we go back,” Renee stated.

“We need Charlie’s skin,” Alcor said. “The facility is going to be a better place to do a ritual than anywhere else in this woods. There also might be physical documentation on the ritual they used that my friend couldn’t access. The place is empty right now, and my friend is going to block the road ensuring it stays that way, so it should be safe.”

“I’m not going to say you’re wrong, but I don’t like it.” Renee hugged her arms tightly to her chest. “I never want to go back to that awful place.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Alcor pointed out. “I can probably manage on my own at this point.”

“I don’t want to abandon Charlie,” Renee said resolutely. “And if there are people still there, you’ll need my illusions.”

“I still have my fire.”

“How much more fire can you produce without further aggravating Charlie's condition?” Renee asked. “Especially after that stunt you just pulled?”

Alcor didn’t respond, thinking about how loose the bond between him and Charlie felt. Any fire at all was probably a bad idea.

“If there is anyone left, you’ll need my illusions,” she said firmly.

“I’m certainly not going to argue against help,” Alcor said. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to do.”

She picked up Vin again. “My anxiety will eat me alive if I stay back while you two go ahead. I’ll feel better doing something, even if it’s largely unnecessary, than I will if I do nothing. Even if that means going back.”

“Alright then,” Alcor said. “Let’s get on with it. We should see if there’s a way up the cliffs. They probably have some kind of vehicle that we could use, or at least tracks we could follow.”

They walked along the cliff face, looking for a path.

“In case I missed saying it before, thank you for earlier,” Alcor said.

“For what?”

“For stopping me.” Alcor paused before continuing. “If I had been left to my own devices… I’m not sure Charlie would have survived.”

“It was nothing,” Renee said, avoiding Alcor’s gaze.

“It was extraordinary. You were terrified, I was putting on what was likely the single greatest demonstration of destructive power you had ever seen, you had no idea how I would react, and you drew attention to yourself to call me out anyway.”

“Someone had to do something, and I didn’t think the either the dead woman or the two unconscious people were like going to seize the initiative.”

“Speaking of which, what happened to Vin anyway?”

Renee’s gaze dropped. “He’ll be fine in an hour or two. He tried to find a way out and ended up looking too far forward. It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have pushed him after he said that he didn’t have any intuition on what to do next. I knew that this is what happens when he tries to control his abilities and I told him to do it anyway. I guess I thought that if the situation was dire enough adrenaline might get him through it? Or more likely I wasn’t thinking about what the consequences would be for him at all, only about what I wanted.”

“What you wanted was for all of us to get out alive,” Alcor said gently. “You didn’t know I was capable of doing what I did. There was a chance that Vin could have been the straw to tip the scales in our favor, and you acted on that chance. If the only options you know about are to risk putting Vin through this or to die, risking this is the right choice.”

“But was it really my choice to make?” Renee asked. “I’m not the one who got hurt.”

“He was presumably also aware of what happens when he pushes himself and tried it anyway. He made just as much of a choice as you did.”

“I don’t think he was actually trying to look into the future, though.” Renee was slithering slowly. “He was being really flippant about it, and he seemed genuinely surprised when his third eye opened.”

“It is possible that he only did it because of you. That doesn’t mean you made a bad choice.”

“He seemed so content,” Renee said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed and peaceful as he was when he was sure that he was going to die.”

“Renee,” Alcor said. “Vin’s severely depressed. His relationship with death is badly skewed.”

“Is it really our place to say that it’s a bad end for him, though?” Renee said quietly. “It’s what he wants. It feel selfish to say that he has to live because I want him to.”

Alcor took a deep breath before speaking. “Look, I know you feel like a shitty person who selfishly hurt her friend, but a) you’re not and b) even if you were that doesn’t mean that you’re wrong about everything. Yes, Vin wants to die. Vin also wants to be eating chocolate at all times. If you feel comfortable denying his desire to constantly consume confectionaries you should feel fine denying his desire to die. He’s sick, and unless things worked very differently at the facility than I’m assuming they did, he’s completely untreated and spent most of his life in a triggering situation. I’m not going to say that death is never a solution - there is a reason assisted suicide is a thing - but death is a very final solution. It’s what you do when nothing else works, when you’ve expended all your options, the pain is unbearable and can’t be stopped. It’s not what you do when you haven’t even tried a single method of treatment.”

“But he’s not going to be able to get treated!” Renee cried. “We can’t even go to a farm in the middle of the night without disguising our faces; we’re not going to be able to walk into a psychiatrist’s office, assuming we could even find someone who does in-person visitations.”

“Sure you will. Remember we aren’t alone anymore; I brought someone else into it. This could go very public if we want it to. Or we could shut it down quietly and blackmail them into leaving you alone. Either way, you’re not going to spend the rest of your life hiding in the woods. Unless you want to, of course, in which case I’m not going to stop you. Live the dream.”

“You’re saying we can put this whole ordeal behind us, just like that?” Renee said.

“You don’t sound especially excited about the prospect.”

She shifted her grip on Vin. “On top of the fact that I don’t think I can say with any degree of sincerity that I believe you, it feels wrong. It’s too easy; there’s too many places for it to go astray.”

“There are probably considerably fewer moving parts than you’re assuming.” He smiled. “I can pretty much guarantee that if we get through this alive I’ll be able to clean your records.”

“At what cost?” Renee asked. “What organization would be pulling these strings and what guarantee do we have that they aren’t going to want to hold this favor over us?”

Alcor laughed. “There isn’t a nefarious organization. There’s really just the two of us, and you’re already up to your ears in my crap already.”

Renee cocked an eyebrow. “There’s just two of you and you’re confident that you can both make this go public and give us our lives back?”

“Well,” Alcor said, “it’s mostly just him, if I’m being entirely honest. But he’s pulled much bigger stunts than this before.”

Renee frowned. “Unless your friend is like the Alcor Virus or -”

“Wow,” Alcor interrupted. “That was a really good guess.”

“What?”

Alcor was grinning widely. “I didn’t think you’d figure that out until you two were talking.”

“What‽” Renee was looking around, as if she could find a more sensical universe hiding behind a tree.

“But you got it nigh instantaneously.”

She focused on him with a disbelieving stare. “Are you trying to tell me you are friends with the Alcor Virus?”

“You were the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I was being facetious!” she cried. “Wait a minute, yesterday you said - did you program the Alcor Virus ???”

Alcor just grinned.

“Just to be clear,” she said, “we are referring to the program that took over the entire world's nuclear arsenal and threatened to use them if a series of increasingly asinine demands weren’t met?”

“Yeah,” Alcor said dreamily. “That was a good time. We managed to get global nuclear disarmament in under a day.”

“You’re telling me the goal of the Tretalelin Incident was disarmament?”

Alcor waggled Charlie’s good hand. “About eighty percent of it was about disarmament, twenty percent was just about fucking with the global powers.”

“Well, that worked out great in the long run.”

“We had a good two centuries of zero active nuclear arsenals. I would say that’s pretty decent for a day’s work.”

Renee shook her head. “So our lives are now in the metaphorical hands of one of the most infamously unpredictable and trollish entities ever. How far we’ve come.”

“Oh he won’t do anything to seriously fuck with you if I ask him not to.”

She glared. “Are you actually planning on asking him not to, though?”

Alcor put up a finger. “That’s a very good question.”

“That is not an answer.”

Alcor put Charlie’s palms up. “Where’s the fun in life if you don’t have a surprise every once in awhile?”

“I’m starting to get the feeling that we have very different ideas about what fun is.”

“I bet Vin would agree with me,” Alcor said. “He has a sense of humor.”

“Vin doesn’t take the future seriously because he doesn’t believe he’ll live to see it. Having him on your side here isn’t doing you any favors.”

“You’re just jealous that it’s two to one.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet Charlie would be on my side.”

“Well, that’s just because Charlie’s a square.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“That’s because you’re also a square.” Alcor stopped and pointed at a bit of the cliff. “Oh, hey, this looks pretty trampled. Wanna try ascending here?”

The trampled path was at a gentler incline than the cliff around it. It was still pretty steep, certainly steeper than Renee would like to scale while carrying Vin, but it looked manageable enough.

Renee nodded.

As they climbed Renee turned to Alcor. “I can’t think of anything that can rip out the soul of a living, non-consenting person.”

“I normally wouldn’t be able to. But I’ve done practically nothing these past few days but gather my energy up. I could do a lot right now, or at least I could before I went and did the thing.”

“Just how much energy are you absorbing?” Renee asked, looking at Alcor like he was some kind of large wild carnivore. “The amount of energy it would take to do that is absurd.”

“Do you know how much energy it takes to burn through the dreamscape of something with the cognitive strength of a selkie? It’s not a small number.”

“I suppose not.”

“It’s actually sort of lucky that I ended up wrecking zir hand,” Alcor said. “It takes a lot more energy to achieve a physical effect than it does to do things in the mindscape. If I hadn’t had so much of the energy I was channeling through zir push through zir physical body... Things could have been very bad.”

“Well, that sure is something.”

They picked their way up the cliff side.

“So,” Renee said. “If I’m to believe the words of our former captors, you’ve killed enough to gain a reputation for it.”

“I’m not sure why you would trust anything those people have said, but yes, I have,” Alcor said. “What about it?”

“Do you,” she paused. “Do you feel guilty about that?”

“Sometimes.”

Alcor reached the cliff’s top and extended Charlie’s uninjured hand down to Renee.

“Sometimes?” she said, taking it.

“Sometimes,” he repeated, helping her up. “Sometimes I’m not really in a place where I can feel guilt. Sometimes I feel fully justified in my actions. Sometimes the weight of everything I’ve done is completely immobilizing.”

“Do you feel guilty about it currently?”

“Some of it,” he said. “Most of it. Some of it feels pretty justified, though.”

“Like the magi just now?”

“Yes. That was definitely an unusual occurrence, but I’m not going to lose any metaphorical sleep over killing someone who was prepared to murder kids to use me as a science project,” Alcor said. “And although the circumstance surrounding the encounter was obviously unique, and the ending was rather extraordinary, there wasn’t anything too special about her, really.

“The way my existence works…” Alcor continued. “I see the worst side of people. I see a lot of the worst side of people. And even though I also deal with perfectly decent people, when you constantly see the extent of what horrors people are capable of… It’s a fight to keep believing that people are worth grieving over. That I should feel guilty at all. And sometimes, it’s a losing battle. And sometimes, it’s too hard and I just isolate myself.”

“So why do you care, then? Why bother fighting just so you can feel bad about what you’ve done?”

“Because,” Alcor said slowly, “I like people. Admittedly, not always in a healthy way, or a way that’s good for the people involved, but I pretty much always like people. The world would be awfully boring without them. And I want to be liked back, to deserve to be liked.”

“At least, sometimes you do?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I really don’t care what anyone else thinks of me. But I kind of hate that part of me.” He laughed without any humor whatsoever. “Of course, I also hate that I hate that, hate that I feel the need to get validation from others, hate how weak and pathetic that is. And then I hate that I feel that way and... I’m a bit of a mess, honestly.”

“Have you ever considered therapy?” Renee asked. “You sound like you could really use it.”

“Hah! Yeah that would go great. ‘Yes, hello, you can call me Tyrone, I’m a hundred times your age, good with kids, and I’ve almost certainly killed more people than you’ve ever met’.” He sighed. “Actually I have tried therapy before. It didn’t go great. There’s too much that I just can’t tell someone I don’t know that well, and at the end of the day, therapy is about changing what you can and accepting what’s left and I can’t do that. I can’t change what I am. I want to - god do I want to - but it’s too much a part of me. And I don’t want to accept it - I don’t want to be okay with doing terrible things because that’s when I do even worse things.”

“Just how many people have you killed here?”

“I haven’t exactly been running a tally. It’s not a small number though, I can tell you that much.” He paused. “Most of it was an accident though, for what little that’s worth.”

“How do you accidentally kill more people than you can count? Are you secretly a politician or something?”

“No, I didn’t poison a water supply or whatever. I was a dumb angry kid and I threw a hissy fit with more collateral damage than I realized was possible. I didn’t know my own strength at that point, and a whole lot of innocent people paid the price.”

“That sounds terrible. I’m sorry,” she said, unsure how else to respond.

“It was,” Alcor said, pointedly ignoring the part of him that found it hilarious.

The silence that settled over the two was like an especially itchy blanket on a hot summer night.

Renee focused on picking her way through the underbrush. The path was well trampled, making it much easier to traverse than the path leading to the encounter had been. She kind of wished it was harder, that it would demand more of her attention. As it was, it left her with little to do mentally other than contemplate everything she just learned, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to do that just yet. She just wished she had some sort of distraction.

As if on a cue, Alcor stopped in front of her.

“Well, this isn’t what I had in mind, but it will probably do,” he said.

Renee lifted herself up a little to see over Charlie’s frame. Ahead of them, scattered around the area’s sparse trees, was a pack of parked motorcycles. They looked relatively new, despite the layer of dirt that coated them. That was about all Renee could assess from them, as she knew about as much about motorcycles as she did how to feel about Tyrone, which was an almost impressive amount of ignorance to have about a relatively common object.

Renee slithered about the area, getting a more solid idea about what was there. The motorcycles were the only things she could see that were left behind. There was nothing she could see that could practically transport something her size.

“They really weren’t planning on taking Vin and me back, were they?” she asked.

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

“He was right,” she said. “They were planning on killing us.”

“Probably. I could have told you some very dangerous things by now.”

Alcor walked up to one of the motorcycles. It was still on: apparently they didn’t expect the encounter to last very long. Which, Alcor supposed, wasn’t technically an inaccurate assumption.

Experimentally, he got on one. It was a little large for Charlie’s body, but not unworkably so.

"Think you can get on one of these?"

"You want me to ride a motorcycle," Renee said. "What with my zero legs and four meters of torso."

"I was more wondering if you would be physically capable of mounting one. I might be able to tow you," Alcor said. "I want to get back to the facility quickly; getting me out of Charlie as soon as possible is more important than ever."

"Can you even tow a motorcycle with another motorcycle?"

"I don't see why not," Alcor said.

"You can, so long as you have a towline," the Alcor Virus said in Alcor’s ear. "There should be one in the repair kit in the storage area under the seat."

Alcor shuffled through the storage area’s contents. It seemed to be mostly standardized stuff, but there was a small jar that contained a dead dragonfly and a centipede. The repair kit was easy to find; it was a neatly labeled box that took up a majority of the space.

"Is this it?" Alcor asked, pulling a strap out of the kit.

"You realize that you left the only camera for miles with the Magi, right? You could have just pulled out an irate alpaca and I wouldn't know so long as it was very quiet."

"Right. It's a thick strap with a Y shaped fork at about one third of its length, around 5 meters long."

"That's it. You're going to want to tie each end of the Y to your footpegs, and lead it around the handlebars and have Renee hold it with her left hand. She's going to be your breaks, which is fun because she’s only going to be able to use the handbrake."

"I think I understand how this works." Alcor started to tie the towline to the footpegs."You willing to try getting on one?"

"Sure. Why not. Have the naga ride a motorcycle," Renee said. "It’s hardly the most absurd thing to happen today."

She slithered up to the nearest bike, pushed her upper torso over the seat, and wrapped her lower torso around it. Her torso drooped along the sides of the bike, with her weight resting on the fenders, pushing them close to the tires. Vin rested somewhat awkwardly between her and the handlebar. She had never been more grateful her friend was so small.

“So how are we going to take this out of park without instantly tipping over?”

“There are stabilizers for low speed maneuvering,” the Alcor Virus said. “I can easily activate them.”

Alcor relayed the virus’ message as he hooked the strap around the front of the bike and looped it around the left handlebar a couple times.

“The handle on the right is your brake,” Alcor said, handing her a helmet. “If we’re going faster than you would like, feel free to use it. You want to keep the towline taunt if possible.”

“Shouldn’t there be two breaks?”

“The other one’s a foot brake.” Alcor mounted his bike. “We’ll go slowly, though; I’m sure we’ll only need the one.”

“This is absolutely going to end with us crashing into a tree, isn’t it?”

“Eh, there’s like, ten bikes here.” Alcor put a helmet on Charlie’s head and prepared to go. “We’ll get it eventually.”

Happy TAUniversery everyone!

The next (and final!) chapter only has ~3000 words written so far, and I’m thinking it’s going to be a longer chapter, so it’ll be awhile. Hopefully not too long though.

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#Transcendence AU #Haunted Fic #My shit #My Fic #Guys I really love Magi Briana.#Like #everytime I read her section I have to stop and take a moment to just appreciate her #Also I cried twice while writing this.

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