Chapter Text
this is not for you
Prison life had not been kind to the Misfit.
Granted, he had been granted the kindness of an asylum rather than simply being locked up, but it was a small difference. His hair had grown out and gotten tangled, his mismatched eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep, and his green suit and fedora had been replaced by a simple white shirt and pants with the logo of the mental facility still on the back. If he had been wandering the streets, he would have looked like an ordinary escapee.
He was an escapee for sure, but he was far from ordinary. His friends saw to that. Unconsciously he checked for their presence in the back of his mind, and was again relieved when he found them there. The brief time they had been missing still haunted him, just over a month of silence. The Misfit still felt an echo of the fear and loss that had plagued him the second he had opened his eyes dangling from a helicopter and realizing his friends had left him.
The fact that they were back now didn’t stop him from almost obsessively checking to make sure they were still there.
Too much had gone wrong. Even his friends didn’t quite understand why their construction of Mono had gone completely berserk and murdered Meg…and another unfortunate casualty of the Misfit’s actions, as he’d later learned, had been Kleo.
No loss too great, no cost too high, he immediately thought, then scowled. They had still been important, and now he not only had caused irreparable damage to any chance of ever getting Mono on his side again, but he had lost his only clue to the storm that was coming once Meg had died.
The one small comfort was that his home remained, miraculously, untouched. The police hadn’t found it at all. No one had entered, and every small trinket he had collected over the years was all in the right place. The Misfit’s home was small, but it served him well. A large open space to make deals and treat with customers, a bedroom, bathroom and the door on the left wall.
the flytrap.
His next plan, while still a good backup, needed time and effort, the former of which he was running out of with every passing day. Neither his friends or Meg had given him a clear timetable, which meant the apocalypse could come today or in ten years. Either way he didn’t have time to waste.
And yet…here he was. Lying on his bed, still in his prison clothes, fresh off an escape and exhausted. The Misfit’s brain was anything but restful however, swirling with unprovoked thoughts and memories. He gritted his teeth slightly, I don’t have time to take a jaunt down Memory Lane.
Of course that didn’t stop his mind from going places he tried hard to forget, and if he was reading them right, his friends were encouraging this little detour. The Misfit scowled and lightly tapped the side of his head, speaking in a dry and cracked voice. “Get a hold of yourselves, we need to get moving.”
The response was not audible words, it rarely was, but more of an impression of a feeling, prodding certain things to the surface of his own mind. A flash of Mono turning his own powers against him, seeing into his mind, speaking that name.
Liam.
Unbidden, the Misfit reached for his bedside table, gripping the small wooden music box that lay there, and opening it almost like he was in a dream as the music played.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy, when skies are gray
You’ll never know dear, how much I-
The Misfit slammed the music box shut and tossed it back onto the table, scowling at himself for bringing up all these old wounds again, and yet…and yet. What had Mono seen, what else did he know? The Misfit, for once, didn’t shy away from the memories like he usually would. He had to know what Mono knew, and if he had seen too much…
Well, he might not be a match for Mono in raw power, but he knew of someone who just might be. But first, he had to know. Relaxing his mind, the Misfit dove back deep into the recesses of memory, searching for the very first thing Mono would have seen…
***
Liam Blake Cauthon awoke to find his clothes drenched in sweat. His heart was still pounding, a sign of yet another already fading nightmare. The details always escaped him before he could think too long about them, but it always involved…falling.
fall
i
n
g.
Rolling over onto his side and peeling off the blankets, Liam glanced around the room to remind himself where he was.
It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was home. Food storage in boxes that had blankets draped over them in case any other street rat snuck by, a loose brick in the wall to hide stolen money in, and enough spare sheets and curtains to provide a makeshift bed for him at night. Liam wasn’t sure it was quite enough to survive the winter this year, but he loathed the idea of trying to sneak into someone’s home for a heating system more.
The last time he had been in someone else’s house, they had been calling child services to take him away. Obviously they had meant well but Liam had left before the phone had been hung up. Sitting around waiting for an adult to come and rescue him didn’t appeal to him, and he had escaped that adoption center once before for a reason.
Blinking his mismatched eyes, one jade green and one sky blue, he yawned before finally daring to poke his head out through the broken window pane. Smells and sounds assaulted his senses, barraging him with information and making his fingers twitch as his desires battled to overtake him.
Liam was thirsty, he was hungry, and he wanted to kill.
He didn’t remember starting this way. Liam would call himself normal had he looked in the mirror almost ten years prior, not a hint of the bloodlust that now nipped at him constantly. But of course, he had been at home then, and most of his worries that he could remember then were muddled and unfocused.
He had been six years old when he had been given up by his mother. Her face was still bright and clear in his mind despite the memories breaking apart around her. He would not forget her, no matter how many times his memory broke into a fractal. Liam was fifteen now, and had learned what a knife did to a human body by the age of nine. At the same age, he had also learned that other people didn’t enjoy the sight of blood like he did. It had confused him at the time.
Why didn’t they appreciate how it looked?
By now he understood enough of people’s morality to understand why they had been so eager to ship him off to what they called a “mental institution.” Or as he had thought of it, the Place. Kids weren’t supposed to stab each other, especially when the other kid hadn’t even done anything wrong.
Liam still didn’t remember what exactly it had been that caused the first instinct to drive a knife into someone’s neck, but now his encounters were much more planned out. Premeditating and taking his time raised his heart rate enough to make it feel like fun.
His mom…she wouldn’t be proud of him, would she? She had called him her sunshine, would she really be calling him that after seeing people’s life leave them because of his actions? Of course she wouldn’t send him to the Place where the wrong kids went.
No, his mom loved him. Liam was absolutely sure of it, and shaking his head, he exited his home trying to clear his mind of the trail it was currently walking. His mom had loved him no matter what. She had sung about him being her sunshine, and he would always be that for her.
She just wasn’t around anymore, that was all. He had to do what was best for himself, she would have understood.
Liam stretched, finally putting all thoughts of the Place out of his head. Alertness replaced exhaustion upon seeing the bakery doors wide open and smells just barely reaching him. Salivating at the idea of a pastry already in his mouth, Liam slipped into the shadow of a building and watched carefully. It was early in the morning, but cars still dotted the street, with the occasional grown-up announcing their presence by the crunch of a fallen leaf under their footstep.
Not like they would notice him any more than the brightly colored leaves they casually trampled on, but he couldn’t take any chances. So instead, Liam waited for the cars to pass, then tentatively ventured out into the street, narrowly stepping behind the back of a man with his face buried in a newspaper. Liam let out a sigh, then pulled his ragged hoodie tight around him to negate most of the effects of the brisk fall wind chipping away at his precious warmth, continuing past the street and into the alley just barely being lit by the faint orange glow of the sunrise through clouds.
This was a practice for him, almost like a game. Sneak in, grab what he could, get out, then spend the rest of his day scouting out potential people to take out.
Sometimes it took him weeks to pick a target, mostly due to how careful he had to be. They had to be unmissed, one report of a disappearing person by their family and the cops would be all over this area. He’d either have to move, or he’d be caught and sent to the PLACE.
Ignoring the thought of that, Liam reached the back door of the bakery and waited patiently. There was a rhythm to this. The delivery always came in about a minute, and the baker always spent enough time talking for him to sneak inside and grab what he could.
Sure enough, the truck with the logo on the side trundled into view with a stuttering engine as it did every day, and Liam waited until he saw shoes exit the bakery door and stand directly at the back before making his move. The door was wide open and he practically sprinted inside, his body begging him for sustenance.
What he didn’t expect was to collide with another human on the way in, their arms full of pastries themselves. Liam’s head bonked directly into theirs and he saw the stars for a moment before his next instinct took over, which was anger.
Vision clearing, Liam took in the shape of a girl, with nicer clothes than him and purple hair that seemed to fade into transparency at the ends. She wore a small top hat on top of her head and was currently staring at him with light brown eyes that held fear and just the tiniest bit of curiosity before time seemed to start again.
Liam shoved her away with a scowl and made for the shelves again, grabbing everything he could carry and ignoring the girl. If he wasn’t in the back room of a bakery he might have just killed her then and there, but it was too risky. He could already hear the truck’s engine starting up, he’d lingered too long as it was. When he turned back around the girl had already gone, a single bagel on the ground was the only sign she had been there at all.
Putting her out of his mind, Liam made his exit with as much speed as he could muster, just barely managing to slip past the truck before it started its forward movement again, diving back for cover and making sure the pockets of his hoodie were filled with food.
Biting into a warm bagel was all he needed to make the trip and almost-failure worth it, his eyes nearly rolling back up into his head at the heat radiating through his entire body.
Best not to linger, however. Being caught would be worse now that he’d been stealing. People were less friendly when he stole.
Liam turned to leave, and there was the girl. Staring blankly at him and speaking in stilted English, “You ok? Sorrie for bonking.”
Scowling, Liam just waved her off and started his trek back into the shadows of the alley. “Don’t mention it.” She had distracted him long enough, it was time to get back to his routine, his…
No one would miss her.
He spun round, if she had still been there she might have been scared. But she wasn’t, seemingly taking his dismissal to heart as he just managed to spot her distinct hair vanishing deeper into the twists and turns of the alley. A maze.
Liam ran after her, all rational thought leaving his brain for just a moment in the face of fulfilling his goal early instead of more days of waiting. One moment was all it took for his logic to leave him, and when it came back he suddenly realized what he’d done and how monumentally he had screwed up. He had tried to follow that girl into the labyrinth of buildings and alleys that stretched deeper into the city, the way he had not dared to go for fear of being lost, now not knowing which way he had gone.
Could he find his way back? How long would it take? How many turns had he just taken?
Forgetting about the girl entirely, Liam attempted to retrace his steps. Back to the start would just be a left, or had it been a right? The fire escapes were all pulled up too high for him to scale the buildings and the sky was no help to him as the sun was hidden behind clouds that draped the city in a gray monotone.
A way out. Find a way out of the maze. Something, anything to get him out of here…
Liam paused in his sprint, the corner of his eye catching something just out of reach. Something imperceptible that he felt he would never have seen even if he had been running at it dead-on. And yet as he stood staring down a long alleyway that seemed to branch to infinity, almost out of sight on the left wall, was a door.
It was a plain door, no markings or signs decorated its frame. It was made of wood, and appeared to have a dull bronze handle. Liam’s eyes stayed fixed ahead but he kept the door in his field of view, somehow knowing that if he turned to look at it the door would not exist any longer.
His hand grasped for the handle, and turned it tentatively, not really knowing what to expect, just wanting something other than the nearly claustrophobic maze. Once the door was wide open he finally turned to look, and almost took an involuntary step back. Beyond the door was darkness, so thick he felt like he would be unable to see his own hand in front of his face if he took a step in there.
Well, Liam had never been scared of the dark anyway. And being in the dark, at least knowing that there might be a way up, appealed to him much more than the thought of wandering a maze in the hopes of finding the right turn.
Liam tensed his shoulders, then walked directly into the darkness, leaving the door open to try and illuminate his surroundings as best he could. He half expected the door to slam closed with how paranoid those alleys had made him, but blessedly it stayed open. Liam prowled around in the dark, still barely being able to only see vague shapes, before his outstretched hand touched a railing. Definitely seemed to be stairs.
Taking a careful step, Liam missed where he thought the step would be and was only saved from tumbling into an abyss by his hand still firmly grasping the railing. These stairs didn’t go up, they went down.
Okay, maybe the alleys might actually be better than random pits in the floor. Liam leaned backwards to get his bearings again, and his hand met the wall. For the second time he was thrown off balance, but this time because the wall was not solid, not in the slightest. It had moved inwards at his touch, and felt almost like an extremely thick liquid. And his hand was not moving from the spot it had touched.
Liam panicked and attempted to pull back, not sure what kind of magic defense system this was but just knowing he wanted to get the hell out of here before he felt the viscous substance crawl up his arm.
This was definitely worse than the alleys, a million times worse. The stuff was spreading over him much too fast to think rationally, his only frantic thought was practically a whimper of I want my mom before the goo swallowed him whole, detaching him from the wall in a sudden movement that left him reeling, stumbling backwards completely unable to see the railing fast approaching his forehead before it knocked him out.
Soon the walls and doorways recede and
v a n i s h
is completely out of sight
until it too
lifts
then the ceiling
drops
until it too
is completely out of sight
Liam stayed unconscious for exactly five and a half minutes. He awoke to an incessant slapping of his face, and his mismatched eyes blinked open once more to see the face of the girl from earlier staring at him. “Oi, you hurt? I'll fix, d’worry.”
He was vaguely aware of the sensation of being dragged, tumbling in and out of consciousness was a blessing to him, until he finally fully regained his faculties in a dark room with two makeshift beds, much like his, one of them occupied with a sleeping figure that looked to be a bit bigger than he was, and the other empty.
Craning his neck around, he also felt the sensation of a bandage around his head and touched it, wincing. Had that girl really dragged him all this way to fix him up? Liam so badly wanted to kill her for all the trouble she had caused him, but…he had no idea where he was, and she did. He’d let her lead him back to his home, then he’d murder her without a care.
Liam’s head pounded again, and he pressed into it slightly with a hand. Had he really seen all that? Or had he just panicked, hit his head, and had a vivid nightmare? Either way it didn’t matter, as soon as he was free from this place he knew to never pursue anyone in there again without a good map. Maybe he’d steal one.
A sharp pain in his head came a third time, and Liam found himself tearing the bandage off his head. That girl had probably done a bum job and wrapped it wrong, probably given him an infection too-
And he stopped, because touching the bloody spot under the bandage he felt no wound at all. He had hit his head here, and there had been something to make him lose quite a bit of blood, but now there was nothing, not even a scar.
Yet another sharp pain drove into his skull like a loud screech, and Liam’s face screwed up at the intensity of it, it was like someone was speaking with a hammer and the nails were their words, almost like someone was talking to him.
No.
Someone was talking to him.
LIAM.
He nearly jolted out of his spot, the pain was almost unbearable but he managed to form a single thought of What is happening?
Just as quickly as it had come, the Voice subsided, leaving only an echo of the pain he had just felt. Now it was like a whisper, like a needle instead of a nail.
Liam. We have chosen you.
“Chosen me for what?” was the whine that escaped him, and he hated how pathetic he sounded.
The driving needle-voice spoke again. To be our vessel. To help us. We have been watching you. You have been chosen.
Before he could question this painful voice further, the sensation of the needle vanished, leaving blissful peace and silence in its wake. This sudden tranquility was further rudely interrupted by the girl from earlier crashing into his personal space and smiling like a fool. “You’re okie now!” She stuck out a hand. “Sorrie bout getting you lost. My name Hats.”
Liam stared at her blankly, finally finding his voice. “Your name…is Hats.”
“Yup!” She proudly pointed at the top hat perched on her hair. “Cuz of the hat, see?”
Good, she’s stupid. Easier to kill her. Liam paused for a moment, collecting himself, then allowed himself to look grateful. “Thanks for taking care of me, Hats. My name’s Liam.” He shook her hand smiling slightly. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was grateful. Just for different reasons than she might think.
The other sleeping figure finally sat up, and Liam scooted back on instinct. It was a magic-user, one of those that contracted side effects from their magic, and this boy appeared almost draconian in nature. Horns just poked out from under his hair and it looked like scales were dotting his face. Hats noticed his gaze, then smiled again. “Oh, thas just Fo.”
Right. Liam sighed, then carefully made his expression understanding. “My name’s Liam, Fo.”
Fo simply yawned, then waved. “Hie.”
Two idiots, Liam mentally corrected himself. Wonderful. Maybe he’d get two kills for the price of one. Forcing the smile back onto his face, he turned back to Hats. “I dunno how to get back home…do you guys at least know the way back to the bakery?”
Hats’ face lit up. “SURE!” She grabbed his arm and hauled him up, speaking excitedly, but Liam wasn’t listening to her any longer. He’d seen this place they called home, there was no one that would miss them.
He had his new targets.