You keep eternity, give us the tape recorder

by everyfailingsun

Summary:

The one thing the Kobra Kid said when he got to the car was, “Who the fuck is Jon?”
Ghoul had to agree with that sentiment.

I hope y'all are as excited for this as I am!!
(this fic will update weekly on Mondays, it has been a few weeks now BUT I HAVEN'T ABANDONED THIS DON'T WORRY)

Notes:

lets go!!! genuinely haven't been this excited to start a fic in a good while

cws in this chapter: mentions of blood and dead bodies, slight mentions of body horror, worms and trypophobia

Chapter 1: In which the adventure begins

 

“-And our prayers to all in Zone 2 during this time,” Cherri said, the radio cutting in and out, distorting his voice. “We know this was a tough one for all you crash queens, and we hope your living keep fighting and your dead get to rest at last.” 

Just looking out the window, Ghoul could see the damage the latest sandstorm had done to the landscape. The makeshift town they were currently driving though was wrecked; roofs were blown right off, plants were dead, big pieces of fabric were lying across the road, likely old shade cloths.

“God,” Jet said softly. “This is awful.” Everyone in the car knew that much worse had and would continue to happen, and had even happened to them, but they all nodded solemnly. 

They didn’t see a single soul as they drove through the town. It struck Ghoul as a little odd. Surely there must still be people living here, even if most of the houses were damaged? Had the entire population been killed in the storm? Surely they didn’t all have other places to live…

He wanted to bring it up to the others, but didn’t speak until they had passed all the buildings. It was an unspoken rule of the zones, no one talked when they were in a place other zoners had recently died, as a sign of respect and acknowledgement. So Ghoul just watched as the empty community passed outside his window, noting the odd mist that seemed to be only half there, snaking around the tents and decrepit wooden houses. What was with that? It wondered. He almost thought he saw cobwebs in some of the closer houses. What the fuck? This was a fully living town, from what Ghoul knew, only days ago, there was no way buildings already had cobwebs looking like that.

The air was eerily still today, no wind at all, barely even the slightest breeze as he stuck its hand out the window, when there should have been a massive roaring current at the speed Poison was driving. 

 

Furthermore, there was no noise whatsoever. No animals scurrying around, no other cars on the road around them, nothing whatsoever. It was completely deserted. 

 

As the last building passed, Ghoul felt a breath leave him. The air felt different now that they were back on the open road. And it wasn’t sudden, but slowly, the wind picked up again and Ghoul saw two vultures on the side of the road, picking apart a rotting carcass. Music cut on randomly from the radio too, far too loud and fast, like it was trying to make up for lost time. Ghoul recognised it, but didn’t remember the name. Though everything felt normal again, it couldn’t shake the feeling of the old town. 

“Did you guys just feel that too?” 

Jet looked at him quizzically from the seat in front of him. Her hair moved up and down slightly as the AM drove over rocks, never losing its pace. “Feel what?”

Now it was its turn to look at her strangely. “In the town?”

Jet looked at Ghoul like it was trying to tell her about ice cream again (When he brought it up longingly once she almost fell out of her chair laughing. Nice try, she had said. You can’t fool me that easily ). “I did,” Kobra said quietly. 

“See!” Ghoul spluttered, gesturing at Jet. “He gets it!” She still didn’t look convinced, but sighed and turned back around in her seat. “Ghoul,” Kobra started, not looking him in the eye, “What do you think was causing it?” 

“Causing it?” It hadn’t really thought about it that way. He didn’t think that was a way to think about it. “It was just a wrecked town after a sandstorm, sure it was a little creepy, but do you really think something caused it?” 

“Well…” Kobra sounded like he didn’t quite know what he wanted to say. “You’re probably right, it’s just an empty place.” 

“Well, we’re out of it now, right?” Party chimed in unexpectedly. “Whatever it was, we can leave it behind now.”

“So you’re telling me all of you are feeling some kind of weird phenomena and I can’t?” Jet burst out. “That’s not fair…”

 

“Wait, what's this?” They were coming up to a larger building, clearly too far away to be a part of the town. It was quite decrepit too, the roof having half caved in and the windows smashed. It was clear that it would have been quite a large place, even before the back wall was gone, and it even looked like it had two stories. “It’s been hit pretty badly…”

“Wait,” Party said very suddenly, cutting the engine so violently Ghoul jumped. “Can you guys hear that sound coming from inside?” Ghoul strained its ears, and sure enough, he could hear the sound of shouting coming from inside the ruined building. Instantly,worry leapt into every nerve of his body, making him feel like throwing up. Is everyone OK in there? Well, obviously they weren’t, from the calibre of the screams-

Ghoul made eye contact with Poison, and concern was etched all over their face. There was a question in their eyes, one that Ghoul didn’t make any effort to answer, because it didn’t need to be. The two killjoys simultaneously slid their doors open, slamming them again in sync. The shouts were only louder out in the open air, barely meters from the house. 

He ran, feet pounding on the sand packed ground, through the open wall and into the building. 

 

There were bricks littered everywhere on the floor, shards of glass mixed with sand crunched under Ghoul’s feet. There were old shelves lining each wall of the room, books and files alike stacked inside them. The staircase that must have led upstairs was lying in the corner, a crumbling mess of concrete. 

Party walked up behind him, shadow casting out onto the open floor. “Shit…” they breathed. 

“What was this place?”

They must have driven past it dozens of times, never giving it a second glance… until now. 

“It looks like some kind of… research facility?” It was really a stab in the dark for Ghoul, but it sounded impressive, and the place certainly looked like it had once been quite grand. He walked over to one of the desks arranged in the center of the room, leafing through the papers on it. They were very fragile and some looked like the had burns in them, but a few words were visible here and there. Words like examinations , Institute , teachings . Words like flesh , infestation and even panopticon . Ghoul didn’t know what half of them meant, but they unnerved him nonetheless. A research center this far out in the middle of nowhere, likely even by pre- BLI standards. seemed pretty strange. Especially one with computers as old looking as these ones were. 

“Ghoulie… come look at this.” Poison sounded concerned, and Fun Ghoul felt its heart skip a beat. He walked over quickly, wincing at the creaking sound the floorboards made under his feet, somehow not jammed up with sand. It stopped dead as it reached Party’s side. He grabbed their hand for reassurance, feeling his heartbeat in every nerve. 

“Are they… real?” Ghoul croaked out.

“I don’t know.”

It looked up at the wall again. There were old pictures printed out and stuck there, all in black and white. That didn’t surprise him, given the look of the computers they had, but what was in the photos certainly did. Most of them were grainy photos of people, at least from what he could tell, usually sitting at desks or doing something else unassuming. But some of them were… disturbing, to say the least. There was one of a woman with holes all through her skin, worms crawling over her. There were some that didn’t look like they had anything in them, but the feeling Ghoul felt looking at them-

There was one of a man with long hair and glasses, many eyes covering most of his face.

 

Ghoul started to feel very uneasy, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. “Maybe we should leave-” But just as he said it, the shouts started back up again. It hadn’t even noticed they had stopped until the unrelenting harshness of them fell back onto his ears. The room was still empty. Party was looking around wildly for the source of the screams, equally bewildered. ”NO! TIM!” could be heard the most audibly, pounding right into Ghoul’s skull. Who was Tim? What was happening to him? 

A huge wooden slat in the corner of the room caught Ghoul’s attention. It must have been part of the roof originally, but now it slanted down into the floor, broken floorboards around it, already weak from rot. The screams just got louder as he walked towards it, his heartbeat quickening with each step. Was Tim in there?  

“Tim, look out, she’s behind you!” came the cry again, the desperation in the caller’s voice becoming more pronounced. “Tim!”

Fun Ghoul could now see into the hole made by the floorboard. Where it would have expected to see just more wood, maybe some kind of concrete flooring, was a hole. A gaping hole, dark and possibly even as tall as he was. One thing Ghoul knew for sure, however: he was not going down there . No matter the screams that seemed to be coming from somewhere in that hole, he would not be the guy to go down there first, in the pitch black, possibly to be kidnapped or Destroya knew what else. 

“It does seem to be coming from down there,” Party said, sounding hesitant. “Do you think we should…?”

“No,” Ghoul said firmly. “No, I don’t think we should go down this ominous fucking hole in this ominous fucking building!” 

“But what if they need help?” Party tried. The sound of another voice, a deeper one came from the hole, accenting Party’s point. “He can’t hear us, Sasha!”

Ghoul softened, though not a single muscle inside of him relaxed. “Let’s at least get the other’s first, before we make a stupid decision that could cost us our lives. ” Poison nodded once at this. 

“There might be a flashlight in the car, too.”

Ghoul ran off, not giving Poison the choice to get the others, partly because it could run faster, and partly because he wanted to get out of that creepy house, even if it was just for a few moments. The sun was still high in the sky, but it felt like it was much later, like time had passed a little differently in the center. Kobra and Jet were sitting on the bonnet of the car, legs swinging, but Jet stood up very suddenly when she saw Ghoul run towards them.

“Is Party ok?” she pressed urgently. 

“Yeah, no, they’re fine, it’s just- You’ll see once you get in there. Is that flashlight still in the boot?” 

“I think so-” 

“Great.” He took the keys from Kobra in a quick movement, racing around to the back of the car and rummaging through the shitload of stuff that was stashed in there. We really need to clear some of this out at some point. It’d tried bringing it up with Party, but they’d reasoned that ”What if we need to leave quickly, huh?” Ghoul still thought that the three pairs of high heels were a bit unnecessary, however. 

 

Soon, the three of them were back inside the research facility, a little bit out of breath, standing by the hole with Poison. Ghoul reluctantly clicked on the flashlight, shining it down into the depths. 

The first thing he saw was a metal ladder snaking down, thank god , and a hard concrete floor some meters below. It might have been twice his height, likely more. It seemed to be a tunnel, branching out both ways from the hole. 

“I’ll do it,” Party spoke up, sounding a little surprised. “Pass the flashlight, Ghoul.” It obliged, and watched as its partner disappeared down the ladder, light swinging around wildly. “I can’t see anything yet!” Poison shouted when they reached the bottom, their voice echoing around the space. 

There was just a loud crawling, writhing sound coming from down there now, accompanied by Poison’s voice. Somehow, it was even more disturbing than the screaming from before.

“I'm going to go into the tunnel,” Poison continued, walking slowly. “I'll try to keep talking. Can you hear me?”

Ghoul nodded for a second, before realising that clearly wasn't very useful to them. “Loud and clear,” it said, willing his throat to work with every syllable. 

“Ew there's… Is that blood?” 

“Party? Are you joking?” Kobra cut in quickly. “If you're not-”

“Oh, I'm not.” Their voice was getting fainter and fainter as they presumably kept walking along the tunnel, with no signs of life to be found. Eventually, Ghoul heard Party's footsteps coming back, and he breathed out an audible sigh of relief. “All right, you didn't find anything, let's leave,” it said, maybe a bit too quickly. 

“No, I'll just quickly go the other way, just in case…”

“No Sasha, you can't just-” came the lower of the two mystery voices again, and Ghoul felt himself sink into the resignation. “Fine. But don't get yourself killed, ok Pois?” 

Jet and Kobra nodded solemnly at his statement, though Kobra looked more annoyed than anything. Ghoul could tell he still cared about Poison, however, he was their brother, Kobra just had a different way of showing it. 

“I won't, I promise,” Poison said, sounding remarkably serious. “I still haven't made you wear that skirt, I can't die yet .” Ah, there was the Poison Ghoul knew and loved. They were barely walking for half a minute, before Party shouted, not in fear, but in triumph. “A ha! ”

There came some loud, clicking kinds of noises, followed by the loudest screams yet ( “NOOOO! ARGH!! Tim! Sasha!”) before a simple question in such a quiet voice Ghoul wasn't quite sure it was even real. “ Jon? Are we going to die here?” 

Oh god, that really got to Ghoul. “Party! Party? Get back here now! Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I'm- Aargh!” With one final cry, the entire building went silent. It was stifling. There was no crawling noise, no shouting, no faint whirring Ghoul just then realised had been playing the entire time.. It was like someone had just pulled the batteries from a radio. “Party?” Kobra ventured cautiously. 

“I'm- I might need some help down here. I'm ok though,” they hastened to add. 

Ghoul was down the ladder in seconds, and following the pinprick of light that was the flashlight into one side of the tunnel. He expected to see more people, or at least a few dead bodies along with Party, even some sort of hive or nest. What he didn't expect to see, however, was a wooden crate, filled to the brim with old fashioned tape recorders. There must have been hundreds in there, at least. “One of them was making the noises,” Party explained, seeing Ghoul by their side. “The shouting, all of it.”

“Well, I guess that means no one’s hurt. We can go now, right?”

“But… There could be some important tapes in this box, don’t you think we should-”

Ghoul bit his lip. “If they were so important, why would they have been left down here in this tunnel that wasn’t even exposed before the floor caved in?”

“Because someone wanted to hide them?” Kobra’s voice from behind them suggested. 

“God, Kobes, you scared me!” Poison yelped. 

“I vote we take them,” Kobra pushed. “Doctor D might know more, and it can’t hurt, right?” 

Ghoul wasn’t so sure about that. This could be some sort of trap, how do we know they aren’t somehow rigged up to something? It knew enough about bombs not to take strange devices he didn’t understand into their home. “This doesn’t feel like a g-” it tried to say, but before he could finish, Party spoke up.

“Fine. Someone’s gotta help me carry it, though.” 

“I got it.” Ghoul picked up the box, and he was surprised to feel that it really wasn’t that heavy. “Pois, have some faith in yourself, you coulda lifted this easy!” it started to joke.

“Yeah, must just be my back acting up again.” 

Ghoul frowned at this, but let it drift away from his focus. “Let’s get outta here, god knows we’ve left Jet waiting long enough.” 

 

-

 

The Fabulous Four arrived back home just as the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. Ghoul felt filled with restless energy, and had been on the entire drive back since the research center. He didn’t believe in any sort of magic, and certainly not curses, but he could have sworn it was the box of tape recorders in the back that made him feel this way. It felt distinctly wrong, having it sitting in the middle of their living room like some kind of second, short table. I want them out of here. Then we can go back to normal, and forget this frankly quite disturbing experience ever happened. 

“I think we should bring these to Doctor D now, if they’re really as important as you all seem to think they are,” Ghoul announced to the room in general. There were a few halfhearted nods and hums, but no one seemed like they were about to stand up and actually deal with them . “Come on guys, there’s no way in hell I’m driving with them by myself.”

That raised an eye roll from Kobra, and a second later he gave in. “Fine. I’ll come with you to drop off the spooky tape recorders to the radio station. I get to drive, though.”

“As long as you don’t get us killed then I’m fine with anything. ” 

 

Not an hour later, Ghoul found itself standing inside Doctor D’s cluttered radio studio, awkwardly looking around from behind the large box he was carrying. “Yeah, we found them in a building in the outskirts of Zone 2. Well, in the basement of a building, I guess you’d say, but…” 

Doctor Death Defying started at it intently. “And could you describe this building for me?”

“It was quite tall, old, there were lots of bookshelves?” 

“I see.” The Doctor was clearly waiting for more information, and Ghoul grasped at his memories of the place.

“There was a sign, lying somewhere near the entrance,” Kobra jumped in helpfully. “I think it read B.I Instituent? Maybe Institute?”

Ghoul studied Doctor D’s face as Kobra said that, and while it wasn’t easily noticeable, he could have sworn he saw the slightest look of shock and worry cross his face. 

“Very well,” Doctor D went on, like nothing had happened. “I think it’s best if you leave the box here with me, boys.” Thank God, Ghoul thought. 

“All right, we should probably go then, Kobra.” He turned and walked towards the door, shaking out the tenseness in his muscles from carrying the box. Kobra followed him, closing the door as well, before stopping. “Wail. Let’s just see if we can hear anything…”

What would there be to hear? Ghoul wanted to say, but Kobra had already pressed his ear to the door, and to Ghoul’s surprise, it could hear faint talking coming from the other side. It sounded like Doctor D was muttering to himself about something, and while Ghoul wanted nothing more than to go the fuck home , he found himself pressing his own ear to the door too. “... that’s where BT Institute was hiding all that time ago,” he heard. “God, the best thing I can do now is to not rope the Four into this, they’re still practically kids…” Just as Ghoul went to straighten up again, he heard one last, unfinished sentence, softer than the others. “Oh, Jon, I hope you’re doing all right…”

That was enough mystery bullshit for Ghoul. He straightened up and walked right out back to the Trans AM (the driver’s side this time, Kobra was a terrible driver, even moreso during the night). The drive back was mostly silent, the two killjoys mulling over their thoughts. The one thing the Kobra Kid said when he got to the car was, “Who the fuck is Jon?”

Ghoul had to agree with that sentiment.

Notes:

Oh aren't they gonna find out...

Please leave kudos and write a comment if you enjoyed, they make me so happy <33

Chapter 2: In which we first hear from Jon

Notes:

I hope y'all are having a good day and enjoy the chapter!
cws: wasps
edit: looking over this after posting it looks like the end notes from the last chapter have carried over somehow? not sure if it's just a my laptop issue but I'm sorry if you can see it too

The Trans AM was hurtling down the road and the sun was shining lazily as the Fabulous Four sped through Zone 6.. In the week or so since finding the box, he’d been busy, always busy, but there had always been one nagging thought in the back of his brain about it. How had that one turned itself on? Why did Doctor D have that reaction? 

Kobra had no answer, so the question turned around and over and through itself in his mind. The other killjoys hadn’t seemed as curious as he did about them, apathetic and minorly interested like Poison at best, outright refusing to acknowledge them like Ghoul at worst. Jet had said that they creeped her out a couple times, but aside from that she hadn’t really talked about the tapes at all. 

Or much really, always preferring to just stare out a window in silence or go on drives by herself. This was unusual; Jet was usually quite talkative and cheerful.

Now that Kobra came to think about it, she hadn’t been acting quite normal in weeks, maybe even a month. 

Oh well, he thought. I’ll bring it up the next time we’re alone somewhere together. 

The highway roared past, the wheels of the AM leaving tracks on the dusty road. They were out on the very outskirts of Zone 6, and had been for days now, sleeping in the car when they couldn’t drive any further, rationing the drum of water that was slowly running out.

The Kobra Kid didn’t really know what exactly they were looking for, only that the thought of finding anything out here was beginning to feel nothing short of a miracle. 

All Doctor D had said after he called them to his station was ”I need to reconnect with an old ally,” a grave look on his face. 

Kobra tried as hard as he could to not connect the emergence of the tapes with Doctor Death Defying’s worries.

After an uncounted number of days, Kobra saw something familiar out on the horizon, small but growing steadily. He tried to feel relief as they drove closer and closer, but the nagging worry wouldn’t go away. It was the desolate tower that marked the very end of Route Guano, the road that had taken them all the way out here, and would take them back when they got to it.

The Fabulous Four had driven all the way around Zone 6 with no sign of Doctor D’s ally they’d come to find. Kobra didn’t know what that meant. It could mean nothing, people moved and died every day in the zones, just as steadily as the early rise of the sun and the lightening of the sky. 

Of course, it could mean that-

Well, something bad at least.

“What should we do now?” Kobra asked anxiously. “He said that they’d be out here, and they’re clearly not,” he continued, referring to the Doctor and his ally.

Poison shrugged. “There’s not much we can do, short of searching the whole of the zones. Which we can all agree wouldn’t be a good use of time. We don’t even know what they look like.”

“But still,” he pushed, “They must be important, and if this is related to the tapes…”

“Even important people die,” his sibling said quietly. “There’s nothing we can do.” Their tone sounded more final now, the silence after stretching on. 

“And Kobes? I don’t think worrying about those tapes is gonna be healthy for you, it wouldn’t be for anyone. Doctor Death Defying has it covered.”

 

Kobra said nothing to this, letting Poison turn onto Route Guano without protest. Jet stretched out across the back seat, her legs resting in Kobra’s lap. The weight of them was comforting, and he tried to banish the worries from his mind, instead focusing on the crazy would you rather questions Ghoul had been throwing around intermittently the whole trip. 

“I just think,” Kobra said, through his laughter, “That it would hurt to fall off a cliff. It doesn’t matter whether a house fire would be worse, falling off a cliff would hurt without a doubt!”

“But you see,” Ghoul replied, a devilish smile on its face, “It might hurt a little bit , but the falling part would be fun.”

“No it wouldn’t! ” 

Kobra saw Party roll their eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Come on, Pois! You gotta agree with me…”

They smiled fondly and for a minute Kobra felt the safest he had in weeks.

 

-

 

“And there was no sign of him at all?” the Doctor checked. 

“Nope.” 

He sighed, but didn’t seem entirely surprised. Kobra wondered if this ‘ally’ was connected to the mysterious Jon he had overheard him talk about before.

He wanted to ask, but knew that saying, “Hey, so I kinda eavesdropped on you that time, sorry about that, but can you tell me everything about this person Jon who you were talking about? I can tell you don’t want to tell us, and you’re probably gonna be angry, but pretty please?” wouldn’t be a great idea.

“All right. Probably for the best honestly,” Doctor D added under his breath. 

“You four can stay for the night, if you’d like. I know it’s pretty late, and I’ve asked a lot of you already. You all must be tired.” Kobra felt wide awake, honestly, but he turned to Party, who looked like they were reluctantly about to reply. 

“Yeah,” they said weakly. “We’ll stay.”

Doctor D nodded. “Sure thing.” He stood up and started walking towards the door, and the others were about to follow, before Kobra saw a chance and took it. 

“D’you mind if I take a look at the tapes before going to sleep?” He gestured to the box sitting unceremoniously in the corner of the room. “I’m not very tired yet.” 

The Doctor looked at him, suddenly, blue eyes piercing into Kobra. Kobra stood his ground and didn’t back down, just watching the other man’s eyes dart around the room, clearly weighing the choice up. Eventually, and very reluctantly, he looked back at Kobra. The others were watching on from the doorway. 

“Fine. But you’ve got to promise me to be very careful around them, they aren’t a mystery for you to solve, they’re genuinely dangerous. ” 

Warnings aside, Kobra felt intrigued and excited that he’d be allowed to look at the contents of the box. “Thank you, I promise I will,” he said quickly. “The rest of you guys can go to bed, if you’d like.” Instead of leaving the room like Kobra thought they would, the rest of the Fabulous Four instinctively shifted forwards slightly. 

“I think I’d like to listen, maybe just to one,” Poison said. Jet and Ghoul nodded at the statement. 

“Don’t stay up too late,” Doctor D said, taking a couple steps outside of the room. “Can’t have y’all using all of the electricity.” They all murmured quietly in agreement, and gathered around the table, watching Kobra pick a tape from the box. 

He had no idea what he was looking for, in fact, they all looked mostly identical. A couple had bits of paper stuck to them with long numbers attached, but it meant little to nothing to Kobra. 

In the end, he picked out one from near the bottom of the box that just felt right to him. It sounded stupid, but Kobra almost thought it was calling to him. He sat down at the table too, and clicked play on the record.

 

-/- Statement of Tristan Fischer regarding the happenings he experienced at his local church. Original statement given August 7th, 2009. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

 

Well, really, I first discovered the Saint Audrey’s church after I was kicked out of my old flat. I’d been behind on a couple payments for months, and a few other things, just little ones, but I guess they really do stack up. 

The hole in my wall was really the last straw, so to speak, and before I knew it I didn’t have anywhere to sleep. In fact, at this point in my life I didn’t really have much of anything , to be quite truthful, no hobbies, no family to really speak of, certainly not enough money to find another place to rent for at least another month. 

I was pretty much alone.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a couple mates, but not the kind who I could turn up and stay with. I just didn’t have the kind of lifestyle that made it easy to connect with people, I guess. My job at the time was night shifts at the hospital, which certainly didn’t leave much time to make new friends or acquaintances, as I was asleep or recuperating most of the time other people were around. 

So there I was, homeless, mostly friendless, with about as much stuff as I could carry around with me. I’ve never been particularly sentimental about belongings, but getting rid of the furniture and stuff you’ve had all your adult life really does something to a person’s morale, doesn’t it? It was a rough time for sure, sleeping anywhere I could before groggily going to my shifts like nothing was wrong.

I’m sure some of the other guys caught on, but they didn’t say much to me, never had. I spent a lot of time at the local library, and they were pretty good about it, letting me use the computers and sleep on the couches most of the time, though I don’t remember the last time I had a proper library card. I’d settled down, more or less, into this routine that I could see it wouldn’t be viable for very long at all, but I was slowly saving the money to maybe rent out a new apartment, if I was lucky, though I didn’t have many hopes for the maintenance of the place.

But that was when I got fired. I did nothing sketchy, I swear, I kept my head down and worked reliably, if not in an incredibly friendly manner. And that’s neither here nor there, I wasn’t working with patients directly anyways. Word was, the hospital was going through their own financial situation, and I guess I didn’t make the cut. 

Which was, pretty rough, obviously. At this point, I wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to go out all optimistic, looking for a new job, as you can imagine. I still had a little money, probably enough to last me about two weeks, if I was careful enough. 

I had started to search the directories and all that stuff for any of my more distant family members, to see if they remembered me and could let me stay for a while, while I got back on my feet. I wasn’t having much luck, but then one day I opened my email on one of the computers in the corner of the library to find an email from one of my distant cousins, I think, Sylvia. 

I had few memories of her, probably all from before the age of about 10, but she seemed willing to help me out, and I wasn’t in any place to refuse. She lived a couple hours from my city, in a small town I wasn’t in any way familiar with.

I spent the last of my money on a train ticket over, and that was that.

 

She was really nice, Sylvia, gave me my own room to kip and leave my stuff in, helped me get a new job selling tickets at the train station. I made it clear that this was just gonna be temporary, until I had enough to move again, but the way she talked, it didn’t seem like she would have minded if I’d stayed with her for years. Maybe she was just happy to not be living alone, I don’t know, but either way, I owe a lot to her.

At the start, I took a lot of walks around, it was a completely unfamiliar town to me, you see, and I was slowly but surely becoming acquainted with it. It was also just nice to let my thoughts sit for an hour or so, alone. 

One day, and I guess this is where it properly started, I’ve just been rambling on, haven’t I? Anyways, one day when I was coming back home from my walk as usual, I got lost. Must’ve made a wrong turn or something like that, it was getting pretty dark at this point. 

And I found myself on a street I’d never seen before. I’d probably been living with Sylvia for a couple months at this point, but I just chalked it up to the darkness, as I’ve already said. Either way, I didn’t feel worried, or anything like that, just kept walking along that street, thinking that I’d find my way eventually. 

Most of the lights in the houses alongside it were off at this point, it was probably a bit later than I remember thinking it was. But at the end of the street I could see one pretty tall, usually shaped house bathed in light. 

As I got closer, I could see that it was a church.

Now, I’ve never been religious, but I still found myself walking up to it, looking through the windows. It really surprised me to see people in there, as you’d probably expect, it was dark, and furthermore a weekday evening, certainly not the time you’d expect a church service to be running. 

I suddenly became very aware of how cold it was, and the goosebumps on my arms, having forgotten a jacket. I didn’t remember it being this cold when I’d left the house, nor anything like this on the weather forecast. 

I could’ve tried to return home, at this point, of course, but I still wasn’t sure of the way, and it looked so warm inside the church, so I pushed open the door.

Terrible idea, as I’m sure you’re thinking right now, but of course I had no idea the ramifications of this choice. No one turned away from the sermon as I walked in and sat down on the end of a pew next to an elderly couple, much to my relief. I was right, it was warm inside, and the minister’s voice was rich and inviting as he talked. 

As surprised as you might be to hear it, that first day was ordinarily, well, ordinary. I’d never really been to church before this, but it was exactly like what I had imagined it would be like to attend one. At some point during the service, it must have started to rain. 

 

Not yet willing to leave the comfort of the indoors, I decided to join some of the other churchgoers in the conversation and coffee they were taking part in before I left. It was so nice to feel accepted and connected with people again, after my abrupt move, and to be honest, I never really knew many people before it either. 

The conversation came easily to me, and I’m quite proud to say I got to know a reasonable amount of the congregation.

The first thing I would consider a warning sign happened about then. I was just about to leave, stopping at the bin to throw away my cup, when a man approached me. He looked to be reasonably old, maybe in his 50s, wearing glasses and holding a hat under his arm. 

He made no attempts to greet me, instead just saying, “What brings you to the Chrysalis?” 

I was rather taken aback at the question, as well as confused. I tried to avoid conversation, but he mirrored my actions as I took a few steps, and I had the feeling that he wasn’t about to let this go. 

“The Chrysalis?” I tried to ask him, but he just laughed. 

“Someone wasn’t paying attention during service.” He smiled so wide I could see all of his teeth before continuing. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough.”

And he swept away in an overly dramatic swish of his coat, leaving me standing by the bin wondering what had just happened. It was true that I had zoned out a little during some parts of the service, but that was expected, right? Surely I wouldn’t have missed something as important as this Chrysalis seemed to be? 

I left quickly after that, arriving home maybe an hour later, completely drenched, to a worried Sylvia. 

I tried to tell myself that I wouldn’t go back, that the man was probably mad, that the church was really only somewhere warm for me to briefly stay, but it didn’t work. On my daily walks, I tried fruitlessly to find the road of the church again, but I never could. Deep inside, I knew I only could find it when they wanted me to. 

I took to walking later and later, hoping the darkness would somehow help me stumble upon it, and when I did find it next again, it was indeed during the night.

Once again, I went in and sat on the same pew, almost mechanically. This time, people greeted me with nods and smiles as I sat down, like they remembered me and were pleased I was back. 

I think that was the point where it would have been pointless to try and do anything, I was too deep in, like a fly caught in a web. 

I attended this strange church whenever I could, now, and even started paying more attention to the words spoken. 

The man had been right; when I listened closer, I could hear the Chrysalis, whatever that was, being spoken of almost constantly in passing, even by my fellow churchgoers. Whenever they mentioned it, their eyes lit up like they were experiencing great joy just at the thought of it. 

Whenever I tried to ask what it even was , I was met with knowing smiles, or phrases like, “ You’ll know when it’s right.” 

Looking back, I can’t really remember what I thought of it, any of it, really. I just know I felt loved, and that was enough for me. Months passed, and I’m a little ashamed to say I mostly spent it waiting for “the time to be right”, to finally understand and find that belonging and devotion the other people felt. 

I know Sylvia became really concerned for me, and I’m not proud of brushing her off when she asked me about it, especially after everything she’d already done for me. 

All she knew was that I was meeting with a ‘book club’ that had a lot of members who had busy schedules and therefore met pretty spontaneously. 

 

It must’ve been late March when everything came to a head. I had started to understand the ‘random’ pattern of meetings to the point where I started arriving on time, rather than having to sneak in late. I’d recently gotten a promotion at my job, too, so I’d missed the last couple of services due to sheer exhaustion. 

But today, everyone seemed more excited than usual, whispering and talking together like they were all excited for an event that was coming up. Of course, it could have just been something mundane like Easter, but I think now I have a pretty good idea of what it was. 

The Chrysalis.

As the pastor came in, everyone sat down, myself included. He too had a smile on his face, something I’d rarely seen before. Despite everything, I felt just as happy and thrilled as everyone else, though I didn’t have a clue as to why. As we all settled down, the pastor stood up at the microphone like he was about to announce a very important event. And in a way, I guess he was. 

“May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, though everyone already had their eyes on him. “The day we’ve all been waiting for has come at last. If you would follow my lead, we may be reborn in our divine glory together.” 

There was a deafening applause and cheering following this little speech, and the people in the front row of pews began to stand up. The pastor pulled a small key out from his pocket, and opened a little door I’d never paid much attention to behind his lectern. He stood, holding it open as the people passed through it, thanking the pastor profoundly. 

I was rather near the back of the church today, and as such I watched as most of the room went into the room behind the door. It was fully dark inside, and I couldn’t see a thing.

At first, I wasn’t sure anything had happened. But slowly, I could hear a buzzing coming from inside, getting louder and louder, and it took all my willpower to stay sitting. This didn’t seem to deter anyone else, however, in fact it made them all the more eager. Eventually I was the last person sitting on a pew, and it was just me and the pastor in the room.

The buzzing was unbearable to listen to at this point. The pastor was looking at me, and it was like I could feel his thoughts in my head, telling me that this is all I wanted, wasn’t it , that I couldn’t resist, but I didn’t even know what I was resisting. 

I stayed still, one of the few things that I can look back and say was a good thing to do. I don’t know where I’d be right now if I went through the door with all the other churchgoers. Eventually the pastor looked at me again with an expression of the deepest disdain and disappointment, before going through the door, leaving me alone in the now empty hall. 

I tried to walk away, I really did. Obviously. But I didn’t have the strength to walk away, I felt so tired, I could hardly move. 

I don’t know how long I sat there in the end, but the gist of it is, eventually I somehow got the willpower to stand up and shuffle towards the door. To this day I don’t know how I did it. I just know that when I touched the door, a mass of buzzing, swarming wasps came flying out of the door in a horde, headed right towards me. I was surrounded, as pathetic as it sounds, with nowhere to go. 

I think I could hear them telling me something, trying to communicate. It might have been stay, stay stay , over and over. And oh god how I wanted to. It was nonsensical, but these people had been my closest thing to a home for months now, and while I never really thought about it, I probably would have done anything for them. 

I froze there, thinking about the craziest choice I would hopefully ever have to make in my life, and while I stalled, I felt the buzzing get louder, the wasps pack in closer, the before inviting warmth of the room now overbearing. 

They were trying to convince me to stay, but everything just got more and more , and I longed for the fresh air outside and-

 

Some time later, I woke up in the hospital. I was covered in wasp stings, all over my body, but luckily, I’d make a full recovery. For a good long time, I didn’t have any memories of what happened that night, which is why I’ve taken nearly a full year to come and give my story to you guys. 

But there it was, I guess. I’ve got to go, staying inside for too long makes me anxious these days.

 

Statement ends. Saint Audrey’s church definitely used to exist, though I haven’t heard the name in quite some time. I asked Sasha to do some digging for me, and she found out that they closed down after a bad infestation in 2003. 

Martin should be looking into Mr Fischer’s job history, but I doubt he’ll find anything, unless he has a sudden breakthrough in his ability to do his job . There’s not much more we can do to follow up on this case, and quite frankly, humans turning into wasps isn’t high on my list of priorities. 

While I would positively love to go on a wild goose chase for every case I read, Gertrude has left my work cut out for me. 

“Jon, you done yet?”

Coming, Elias.

You must excuse me, there must be some other thrilling urgent drama that demands my attention. Recording ends.

 

Supplemental:   Elias Bouchard here, he seems to be taking well to the statements, and rather scathing of them too. Perfect. I hope your research progresses well, and we shall talk again at the next meeting. Supplemental ends.-/-

 

“Well, that was fairly creepy,” Poison said, eventually.

“Yeah,” Kobra agreed numbly. Was this the Jon Doctor D was talking about? How did they know each other? This was clearly recorded in the old world so did that mean…?

Kobra shot a look at Ghoul. Had been thinking the same thing?

Ghoul shuddered. “Let’s go to bed, that was quite enough.” Maybe not. Kobra was surprised that the others were reacting this way; didn’t they want to know more? But he too stood up, and put the tape next to the box, as a way to mark the ones he’d listened to. Even if the others didn’t want to.

 

A little later, he lay awake on the mattress he was sharing with Jet. He could tell she wasn’t asleep yet either, instead staring up at the roof with a blank expression on her face. 

“Jet?” Kobra asked softly, letting the question fade up in the corners of the ceiling. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” The answer was direct and short. He knew something was wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” 

“Ok.” He decided to let it go, and rolled over until he was facing away from her. He was nearly asleep when Jet spoke again. “Hey, try not to let the recordings get to you, ok? Party’s right, it’s not good.”

“I know… I just feel like I need to know, you know? This Elias guy, for one thing… Who’s he gonna talk to again later? Why was the box in the tunnel?”

“I don’t know, Kobra,” Jet said, sounding a little irritated but distant. “Let’s just fall asleep.”

Kobra sighed. I know there’s more to this. “Sure. Goodnight, Jet.”

“‘Night, Kobra.”

 

Notes:

hehe

Chapter 3: In which Kobra cooks eggs

Notes:

Very underwhelming title, I agree-

cws: corpses, blood, corpses coming to life (somewhat?), mentions of pregnancy

Kobra didn’t fall asleep that night. He tossed and turned, often considering getting back up and going back to Doctor D’s office, back to the tapes. But he never quite did. 

He was beyond fascinated with them, entranced by the story of the church and the Chrysalis, keen to know more about Jon and Elias. 

There was something about him, Elias, that made Kobra feel on edge. He almost wanted to warn this Jon, for whatever reason, but this must have been recorded a good twenty five years ago. 

Kobra knew almost nothing about whatever was going on with these, but he suspected, given the nature of the ‘statement’, that something was pretty wrong. But it wasn’t interfering with him or his family, so Kobra felt justified in his curiosity. 

After all, whatever weird theory or phenomena the Magnus Institute had been studying must be long gone, if it ever truly existed in the first place.  

 

By morning, Kobra had reluctantly given up on sleep, and had attempted to make breakfast for the crew. Ok, his cooking skills weren’t great , but how hard could cooking some eggs be anyways?

Quite, was the answer the Kobra Kid found, an hour later, his hair plastered to his face with sweat, hands trembling. I’m never doing this again, he thought to himself, leaning against the kitchen cabinets, hands fidgeting in front of his chest. Fuck . He was tired out, and the day had literally just begun, but there were five plates of scrambled eggs on the counter next to him, a little too browned but perfectly edible. 

Kobra knew he should find some breakfast for himself too, he was already feeling faint from the heat of the kitchen and his hunger, but the thought made him feel sick. 

He didn’t move for a while, watching the sun climb a little higher, lighting up the far wall of the kitchen. Kobra was only disturbed when Party walked in loudly, running their hands through their hair, trying to tame the wild angles and unruly locks. 

“Morning Kobra!” they said through a yawn.

“Hey! I made-” Kobra started.

“Aw, eggs! Sick!” 

He protested feebly about the slight burntness of them, you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to, but Party ignored his rambling apologies and shovelled a plate of scrambled eggs into their mouth. 

“Y’all! Kobra cooked breakfast!” Party yelled when they were done.They settled down in a chair, legs up on the kitchen table. 

“Thanks, man.” Kobra nodded, swallowing. 

Ghoul came in next, and the others weren’t far behind. Kobra prayed that no one would comment on the lack of food for himself, preparing to say no, I already ate, at the slightest glance in his direction, but no one did. They all ate appreciatively, and Show Pony gathered all the plates when they were done. 

Party cleared their throat. “Well, we should be heading off now,” they said, nodding towards the Doctor and Show. “Thanks, as always.”

“I should be thanking you lot,” Doctor Death Defying replied. “I can’t really drive anymore, and y’all going to Zone 6 was a huge help for me, even if you didn’t find him.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Wait,” Kobra said suddenly. “Do we have to go just yet?” He didn’t elaborate, knowing that saying just one more look at the recorders, please? would only make the rest of the Fabulous Four want to leave even quicker. Kobra caught Jet’s eye, pleadingly, but when he did she just stared at him like she knew exactly what he was planning. 

“Do you have a reason to want to stay?” she asked coolly, knowing that Kobra wouldn’t be able to say anything to that. 

“No,” he said sheepishly. “Let me just, go get something, I, uh, left my jacket in our room.” He walked out of the room confidently, but instead of going up the stairs to the room he and Jet had shared, he turned left towards Doctor D’s study. He wasn’t going to steal anything, of course not, just maybe borrow one or two tapes. 

No one would even know they were gone, amidst the hundreds in the box. Kobra took the first two he could reach, before half running half walking up the stairs to get his jacket as promised. 

He slid the tapes into the inside pocket of it, and they were barely visible from the outside as he wore it, but they hit his ribs every step he walked down. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” 

 

Kobra sat in the corner of the garage, letting the warm sunlight hit his knees comfortably. His shoulders were pressed between the wall and a stack of crates, keeping him mostly hidden from view. He felt like this was probably overly cautious, but Poison’s reaction when they had found him listening to the other tape he had taken had been an experience Kobra really didn’t want to repeat. 

He’d been weirdly drawn into the story, one of some night time construction worker, and had almost forgotten everything else when Party had barged into the kitchen, distracted at first, then disappointed and stern when they realised what Kobra had done. Doctor D wouldn’t be getting that tape back, after what Party had done to it. 

No, Kobra knew he needed to be more careful with this one. He drew his knees further into his corner, where they couldn’t be seen, and pressed play. 

 

-/- Jonathan Sims here, new Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. I have officially given up on trying to make these recordings on my laptop, as the first week of my position here has wielded no such luck. 

Using these tapes is the only method that seems to work, and though this system is almost as redundant as searching through files, I don’t have any other options. 

Also, if you hear any crunching or footsteps during this recording, it was probably Martin making another mess. You’re meant to be tidying it, Martin, not spilling them all over the floor- Anyways, let’s start, shall we.

Statement of Jade Bell, regarding her recurring dreams and their manifestations. Original statement given January 21st, 2014. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

 

Let me make one thing absolutely clear. I don’t believe in whatever “therapeutic benefits” people always claim to get when they come and tell their story to your Institute. Give their “statement”. I also don’t particularly care about helping others with my experience, cause really what is there that you could do to avoid something like this? Just don’t be an unlucky bastard like me? 

I just came in here because- Well, we’ll get to that bit later, won’t we?

For now, I’ll give you a little background information on myself. I’ve suffered from very vivid nightmares my whole life, so did my mother. Nothing’s managed to stop them so far, and as I’m now in my thirties I doubt anything will. I used to be able to deal with them, I slept with my light on, I kept upbeat music playing, I did about everything I could think of. 

My mother, who was a herbalist, gave me a bundle of valerian and oregano to put under my pillow, herbs which supposedly grant protection and inner calm, whatever that means. I’m not sure that it ever worked, but I kept it so that her worries would be at ease, and later, after she died, as a reminder of her love. 

The second thing you should know about me is that I work at an indoor play center for children. I know, it seems like a bit of a step away from the natural, harmonic lifestyle my mother was living, but it pays the bills just fine, and it's tolerable for the most part. One day I hope to quit this job, maybe run a bookshop or work in a library somewhere, but for now this’ll do, and it’s not like I actually have much prospect of working with books anyways. 

I dropped out of high school, actually, mostly due to the amount of days I’d miss, from painful headaches or severe sleep deprivation, trying to hold off the nightmares. I always loved reading, despite all this, but I’m sure I’m not the mostly promising candidate if I applied for anything. 

Oh, also my name isn’t actually Jade Bell, so good luck finding anything else about me. Not that you’d need it. 

The night I first had the dream was probably about a month ago now. It was after these two kids’ joint birthday party, which is not as uncommon as you might think. It is, however, a right pain, having to deal with double the children and double the rubbish and double the concerned parents and their sympathetic comments at the extra work I only have to do because of their bratty children. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have said it was a tolerable job earlier. 

Anyways, the whole place was filled with these kids, running around and crying and screaming and generally being kids. The only thing that was a little unusual about this party was that it was particularly big, probably the biggest we’d had all year. I thought nothing of it, what reason would I have to, and went home.

 

I live alone, which is probably unsurprising. There’s probably not too many people around London that would want to be with someone who has frequent breakdowns in the middle of the night, all the lights in the house on. I even get complaints from my downstairs neighbours sometimes, the nosy idiots. 

Either way, I live alone, and I’m mostly fine with it. I went to bed as usual, just to find myself back at work.

It was certainly the same cartoon elephant stuck on the door, the same uneven paint job, all the things I knew all too well at the play center I worked at. It just felt a little different. It’s hard to explain, but the lighting felt off, like the shadows were more pronounced, pressing in on all sides, though it was probably mid day. 

I didn’t want to go in, but some dreamlike power gripped me until I pushed the door open, my grip shaking. Same harsh lights and sticky tablecloths, that damn ball pit, the only problem was… There’s no other way to say this. They were corpses. Tons of them, scattered around the room, hanging limply at tables, slumped over the slides, some even clutched lollies or toys in their hands. The worst part was that they were all children. And if I remembered correctly, they were all the kids who had been at the party earlier in the day, frozen in a horrible caricature of happiness. 

And before you ask, yes, they were dead. Stone cold dead, blood all sticky down the back of their heads and necks. 

It wasn’t some weird act, or ghosts or whatever else you get people rambling on about here, it was just a downright disturbing dream about dead children. 

When I woke up, it was already light. It took a little while for the dream to come back to me, though I knew I had had a nightmare as soon as I woke up. When I remembered it, I was very reluctant to get up and think about going back to work. 

There was something about it that felt realer than the other ones, and it stuck with me more too. I’d had dreams about dead people before, obviously, but I’d seen these children not a day beforehand, for Christ’s sake. 

And there was one other thing.

In the dream, I’d been forced to go about my usual jobs, something beyond me controlling my actions, like I was just a puppet on a string. I wiped tables and swept the floor and organized gift bags. I even brought out the cake to a room full of dead bodies. I think I remember myself singing Happy Birthday. 

But I steeled myself and went on with the day as usual, trying not to think too hard about it. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to having nightmares, you know. You learn to be pretty skeptical about them, even just as a coping mechanism. 

This continued for probably the rest of the week. I went to the play center and did my job for a full eight hours, then went home, exhausted. I didn’t usually go anywhere else during the working week, I was busy, most of my friends were even busier than me, and I’m just really not in the mood to do things after work anyway. 

Usually I’ll make a day of Sunday, though, after a good day of recuperation. I try to see something new every week, which, granted, does get hard after living in the same city all your life, but there’s always new ways to look at things. 

That week, I was going to see a  Christmas market that was only about once a year. I’d missed it last year, had a cold, if I recall correctly, so I wasn’t about to not go this time. I remember it was that week the market was on because it was bitterly cold, the type you only get in the lead up to Christmas. 

It was nice, though nothing spectacular. Though that’s not really the part I need to tell you, is it? It was what I experienced that night that was really the part you’ll be interested in sticking your nose into. 

I went to bed, prepared for the dream with the play center and the kids again, but this time it was completely different. I was at the market. I went up to every stall, unable to stop myself, looking at all the wares, one by one. I even asked questions about some of them, though there was never a reply from the stallholders. Of course there wasn’t. Corpses don't- 

 

“Jon, what should I-”

You are interrupting my statement, Martin. I advise you ask someone else and leave me to the work you all seem incapable of doing.

“Sorry, boss.”

Great. Ahem.

Statement continues. Corpses don’t talk, do they? 

But the worst part was the other visitors. They lined the street, piled on top of each other, limbs hanging out at all angles. They were bloody, a light layer of snow covering them. Some were missing fingers or even hands or feet. I was the only one around for miles, standing in a street of corpses. 

After that encounter, I tried as hard as I could to go nowhere with other people. I called off sick from work for a few days, though I knew that wouldn’t work forever, I started getting my groceries delivered, I stopped joining my friends at the pub as we so often used to do. I got a few worried texts, but after a while they just stopped coming. 

I took walks in the forest, with just the crows and the dense trees for company. Animals were safe, I realised. They didn’t come back to haunt me in my dreams. I did get lonely, as I started to settle into this new lifestyle. 

Maybe it was better than being constantly surrounded by dead bodies in my sleep, but it still took a toll on me. A bigger one than I was willing to admit. 

I started to take, let’s just say, not the most legal substances. I’d say it helped, for the most part, though it was clearly a bad move, I needed something to keep me from going insane. My days seemed to pass a lot faster then, and I often found myself passed out on my couch, only waking in the early hours of the morning. 

It was really a wonder I never lost my job, though I couldn’t say I cared much at that stage. I know that you’re probably not going to believe me about the rest of my story, because it’s far easier to just count me as another psycho drug addict, isn’t it? 

I swear on my life it is real, though. It’s not like I’d fake the scar going across my back. But we’ll get to that in a bit. 

This cycle continued, for how long I couldn’t say, but looking back it was probably no more than two weeks. Despite everything, they kept working their way into my dreams more and more, though I was as careful as ever to avoid crowded places. 

Then came the big one. The one that’s really why I’m here, because as strange as it sounds to say, I was doing fine, well, ok enough, before this incident. I’d been through rough patches before in my life, and I wasn’t new to some pretty bad coping mechanisms, but this was- This was far beyond my paycheck, so to speak. 

This time I was in a park. No, it wasn’t a park, it was a graveyard. I don’t remember ever being there before, and you can imagine I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot. I thought it was just a normal dream at first, maybe a bit of a morbid one, but not one that was in any way nightmare fuel. 

After all, there were no corpses at this point in the dream. 

I wandered around the graveyard for a while, admiring the white roses and the thick grass. It must have been around late spring in my dream, and the river lining one side of the graveyard looked very inviting. The water twisted and flowed around itself beautifully, caught in its own intricate, free dance. I walked towards it, right down to the bank, where daisies covered the grass. I got lost in the pattern of it, staring into its depths. 

In the dream, I had a feeling that this place was deeply connected to me, or that I had been here as a young girl once. Of course, this was clearly that utter crap dreams often spin around you, but I wasn’t to know that then. Most of all, it reminded me of my mother. Had she lain in one of the graves here? 

I could not see the graveyard at this point, I was facing completely away from it. That was why I didn’t worry when the first whispering sound came from behind me, like a let out breath. The moment felt so peaceful, so perfectly tranquil, that I must have just assumed the shifting of bones that I’m now convinced I heard was just a rustle from a yew tree. 

I heard it coming from all around me, but I couldn't stop looking out at the water. Well, I think I could have, technically, but in the moment…

As it was, I only turned around when I felt a hand on my shoulder. There's no way I can really describe that hand, it was thick and heavy and meaty, sure, but it was also bony and strong and frail all at once. I could feel millions of tiny things pulsating underneath the skin, reaching out for me.

I screamed. As any sane person would. It echoed through the graveyard, but there was no one to hear it. Only the hundreds of other bodies, standing around us, covered in dirt and grime from digging up their own graves. 

They were certainly corpses, their bullet wounds and poisoned veins proving it, but they were moving , impossibly alive , unmistakably dead. Had I done something to bring them up like this? What did it mean? 

The bodies moved slowly, but I was frozen in place, I couldn't move, only watch as they crawled slowly towards me. The one with its hand on my shoulder just looked at me, not moving. For a second I thought it was smiling.

It was impossible to say how much time had gone by when the circle was formed around us. I couldn't see any of our surroundings, the others were packed tight around us, and I could smell their putrid breath, all going in and out as one. 

That's when the instincts kicked in.

And the anger. I may be asleep, but I wasn't about to let these creatures get the better of me. I'd done a couple years of martial arts training a while back, and that gave me the courage to start moving, even if I didn't remember much from that time. 

Really, I just did it before I could think too hard, kicking and punching and banging heads together. I'm proud to say I got quite a few of ‘em. Not quite all of them, though. 

I thought I did. But one of those sneaky bastards must've snuck behind me, deadly silent, just waiting for its chance. I respect that, in a way, though obviously I had my mind on other things. It was brought to my attention pretty quickly, however, when it stabbed me in the back. It hurt like a- Well, it hurt a lot, which was confusing, especially at first, when I didn't know what had happened. 

I keeled over, blood flowing freely from a deep cut in my back. I think it missed my spine, though, so I guess that's one bright side. The last thing I remember from that dream was the creature’s pale yellow face, gaunt eyes and sunken teeth, staring down at me.

 

That's really all there is to my story, isn't it? Well, all the juicy parts at least. After that, I tried to go back to my regular life, at least, as regular as it had recently become. 

But I still can't shake the feeling that these people I see on the street, at my work, even my friends, sometimes, aren't quite right. It's hand to describe, but it's so etching about their teeth, the bones in their hands, the fleshy proportions of their faces- 

That's why I figured I'd come in here, there's too many people outside, too many people, and the scar on my back still tingles when I feel someone else touch me. 

 

Statement ends. Ah, yet another account of events told by a drug addict, nothing more reliable than that. Miss Bell, as she calls herself, was right. I cannot find any more information about her, and I agree that it is very likely to not be her name. 

There's not much follow up that can be done with this case, and even less I'd want to do. Maybe I could delegate it to Martin if I see him again, get him out of the way for an afternoon. 

This task already feels pointless enough, no need to add meaningless hassle to it. Recording ends.

 

Supplemental: Hello B.T. I will await your input, but he seems perfect for the job. Supplemental ends -/-

 

Kobra sat, feeling the pins and needles in his back. He wanted to know more , about Jon and Martin and Elias, and more about Jade Bell’s dreams and why and what and just more. If he had to guess, he would say this must have been recorded before the first one he'd heard, with the others. 

What did Elias have planned for Jon? Kobra wished he knew, and most of all, he wished he had access to more tapes. A part of him wished he had been the one to find them in the first place, and hadn't told the others. In a way, Kobra felt like they were his, his mystery, his own secret world to explore. 

 

In the next few weeks, Kobra found himself driving to the radio station as often as he could, swapping out his old tapes for new ones. 

They were all so different, but there seemed to be a running theme, one thread that wove them all together, that Kobra just couldn't pinpoint. It drove him crazy. Elias seemed to be as ominous as ever at the end of the recording, frequently talking with “B.T.” 

Jon and Martin bickered, sometimes people named Sasha and Tim were in the recordings too. As time went on, there was a lot of talk between them all about someone called Jane Prentiss too. Kobra didn't know what any of it meant. 

He hoped he could find out some day.

 

-

 

Party stood in front of the mirror in the half darkness of the bedroom they shared with Ghoul. They prayed he wouldn't come in, wouldn't see them like this just yet. They weren't ready to tell people, to face the reality of their situation. 

It had been Poison's secret for nearly four months now, one that had been eating at them the whole time, the shame and the panic and the fear all twisting together in their stomach, with no one to share it with. But there was also a love there, a parental instinct.

Poison took off their shirt, slinging it carelessly on the floor. They hadn't cheated on Ghoul. In fact, they weren’t really sure who the other parent was. They had been in a bad way, those months ago, going to clubs or parties nearly every night, hooking up with people whenever they could. It was the thing they were most scared about talking to it about when the subject inevitably came out. It didn't sound believable, but it was true. I would never do that, Party thought, and it was the truth.  

They held their stomach gently, supporting the partly formed baby inside. I'm going to love you no matter what, they thought to it. I promise.

 

Notes:

hey again! What do you guys think about the statements btw? they aren't gonna be in every chapter, only speckled around on occasion, but do y'all like them? dislike them?

please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed <3

Chapter 4: In which we experience an encounter

Notes:

hello again! finally some action ooh...
cws: mentions of pregnancy and drug use, typical stranger esque horror

Party nearly jumped out of their skin as the doorknob started rattling. “Wait, don’t come in just yet!” they yelled frantically, leaning down to pick their shirt back off of the floor. Fuck, where did it go?

“I just need to grab something, It’ll be really quick,” they heard Ghoul reply from the other side of the door, above the rattling of the handle and the creaking of the hinges. 

  Ok, there it is. “Just one second-” 

The rattling stopped, and Party let out an internal sigh of relief. They put the shirt back on hastily, and it fell over their body loosely. “You can come in now.”

Ghoul came in, humming something under its breath. He rummaged around in the closet he shared with Poison for a moment, emerging with a rusted can opener and a long sleeved shirt that had definitely not belonged to him, last time they checked. 

They thought about protesting this, but thought that if they opened their mouth one more time, everything could come out, all the tears and confessions and screams and worries. 

Party Poison was exhausted , from everything, and like they were about to break down from stress and fear and hunger. It felt like some sort of cosmic punishment, how things had worked out. They had been dating Ghoul for probably a month when it clicked. And it was terrifying. A part of them wanted to tell it right now, try to clear up any misunderstandings as soon as they could, knowing it would be harder the longer the lie went on. 

Now, it was harder than ever to think about admitting that they’d hidden it for so long, almost impossible to actually imagine saying the words. And all the stuff Kobra was obsessed with digging up- Everything was too much, and the thought of their younger brother messing with something that could be so potentially dangerous was the last straw. 

Party found it so much easier to dismiss it, like it was just some weird, spooky waste of time than anything else, and in fact, it probably was , but there were no risks that they felt were worth taking right now.

The likelihood of even surviving a pregnancy in the zones was- 

No, Poison wasn’t going to think about that. They would make it, and everything would be fine . Eventually. They bit their lip, waiting for Ghoul to leave the room so that they could start to unpack all their emotions. 

Instead, he sat down on the bed next to them. Everything is fine, Poison reminded themself. You don’t have to say it now, and it’s just a conversation with one of the people you trust most in the world.

“You alright?” Ghoul asked softly. HIs fingers tapped lightly on the mattress, keeping a steady rhythm. Party tried to match their breathing with it, grounding themself. 

“Yeah.” Keep it together, Poison. “I’ve just been tired, and worried about Kobra’s dumb shenanigans again.” It wasn’t a lie, not at all. Kobra and his well-being was at the forefront of Poison’s mind when making any decision, and that wasn’t going to change if they had their child. When they had their child.

“Well, haven’t we all?” It laughed shortly, smiling. “That shit is real spooky, though.” Ghoul shuddered. 

“Look, it’s normal to be worried about him, I know I am, but he’s responsible enough himself, he’ll know when it’s too much to handle,” he continued, softer this time.

“You have to take care of yourself too, Pois.”

“I know,” they replied, slightly numbly, after a couple moments. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

Fun Ghoul didn’t really look like he believed them, but nodded all the same. “You sure?” he confirmed. Party nodded. “ Sure sure?”

They laughed, the first real laugh they’d let out in days. They smiled gratefully at Ghoul, nodding again. 

“All right. I’ll see if we have anything for a dinner,” it said, standing up.

Party watched as it walked out of the room, shutting the door. As soon as it closed, their shoulders slumped and they pulled their knees up to their chest. 

Please don’t cry please don’t cry, they begged themself, but it didn’t work. You’ll tell him eventually, and then it’ll all be ok. They knew they would, one day. But the waiting and the thinking about it was making their stomach churn. Tears fell onto the bed sheet, one by one. I’ll have to do something about that. They trusted Kobra, Jet and Ghoul with the world , but they couldn’t even tell them about this. 

What was wrong with them? Poison felt so alone, slumped down on their bed, slowly watching the sky grow darker and darker through the windows that surrounded them on both sides. It would be a while before they would stand up again.

 

-

The open road stretched out in front of the Trans AM as far as Jet could see as she kept her eyes firmly on the horizon line. The sky was so vast and blue, spanning half of her vision, and certainly more than half of the world as she knew it. It was so easy to get lost in its bright colours and twisting clouds, a familiar friend that had always stayed with her her whole life. Jet could never get bored of living in the zones. 

There was something about the emptiness of it that made her feel at home, alone with her thoughts, but perfectly safe. 

Driving alone was one of Jet’s favourite things to do, especially recently, but that wasn’t the only reason she was out here, this time. She was nearing the edge of Zone 3, and her heart was starting to beat a little faster. 

Jet could see the little house, the owner waiting for her, no doubt with a grin on his face. You came back again, just like I knew you would. Carbons on the table there, and I’ll go grab them for you. She hated herself for doing this, knowing it was a bad idea, knowing it was an endless cycle, but the drugs made her feel better, even only for a little while. 

They slowed down her thoughts and worries, made everything seem a little duller and more manageable. 

They made Jet feel like everything was going to be ok. 

 

Back at the diner, Party walked into the living room tentatively. They could see Ghoul sitting on the sofa, fidgeting with something in its hands. You’ve got this, Poison thought. Their hands were clammy, and their heart was beating heavily in their throat. I know it’s a big deal, but we’ll work it out. We always do. 

It was true. Poison and Ghoul had been best friends long before they had been together, but they also got into fights more often than the other killjoys could keep up with. Their friendship had been strong enough to get through them, and surely their relationship would be too. 

Poison took a deep breath. “I've got something I need to tell you.” 

Just a little further, Jet thought, pulling away from the hut. I’ll just drive a little further away, then I’ll turn back. She could feel the little bag she had collected from the guy resting in the back seat, calling to her. Not yet, not yet, not yet, she tried to say to herself. Maybe later when you really need it . Jet put her foot on the acceleration, letting the car go faster and faster, trying to lose herself in the wind and the speed and the blur of the surrounding landscape.

After a while, it started to work, though Jet didn’t dare to try and slow down. There was no one in sight, and hopefully wouldn’t be in a good while. It was just her and the car alone in the vastness of the desert. She felt trapped between the smallness of her being, her senses, the expanse of her mind, and the wild, infinite universe she was so connected to. 

Jet thought that this was how all humans lived, and that it was just something that was part of the experience, something to be dealt with. But when she brought this up to any of the others, they didn’t seem to understand, not like she did. She loved the others, like family, but she also longed to be understood, to connect more with the world on a smaller level. 

The drugs helped with that, sometimes. But sometimes the secret just created another gap between her and the others.

 

“What?” Ghoul said, as if he couldn't quite grasp what Party had just said. “You're what?” 

“I'm pregnant.” They swallowed, feeling the weight of the words in their mouth. “You're the first person I've told.” 

“But…”

They held their breath as Ghoul stared at them like something was just about to click in his brain. 

“But we've been together for-”

“-three months,” Party finished for it. “I promise I didn't know-” 

Ghoul went dead silent, thinking hard about what to say next. Poison was now sitting on the sofa next to him, though they weren't touching. The gap between their bodies felt like miles, galaxies. “You cheated on me, Pois.” He didn't look up, his gaze fixed on the bare floorboards of the floor. 

“No, Ghoul, I swear I didn't!” Poison replied, their voice rising slightly. “It was before, and I didn't even know, not until-” 

Ghoul’s voice wobbled slightly as he started talking again. “I don't know if I can believe you.” 

“Why not? When have I ever, ever done anything that would make you distrust me?” 

“Well then, why didn't you tell me before? We didn't use to have secrets, and now here we are.” 

“Geez! Do you even realize how hard it even was to tell you now? It's overwhelming enough for me, without having to think about your reactions! And now that I know this is how you'll react, I'm not sure how easily I'll be able to tell you things again.” 

Party bit back the tears, focusing on the pattern of the threads of their sleeve. This had been such an important thing for them for as long as they'd known, and they thought Ghoul would be able to understand that. Poison felt like they were losing parts of themselves, the parts that could be vulnerable without fear, to a thick wall of armour. 

Maybe it's safer to just keep things secret, they thought, for the hundredth time in their life. I can't trust anyone. 

It had been years since Party had truly believed that, an angry teenager just wanting to be seen. They felt so hopeless, realizing that all the way they'd come had gotten them nowhere. 

“That's always the thing with you,  Poison, isn't it?” Ghoul said. “Your trust is so fragile that I never truly know if you're telling me the truth.” 

“That isn't fair.” 

“Maybe this isn't fair on me either!” it almost shouted. Party winced at the sound. 

“Being kept at arm's length by the person I'm meant to be dating isn't fair! I know you've been fucked up by some pretty bad people, we all have, but at some point you need to start moving forward!” 

Party clenched their fists, their breathing speeding faster than they could keep up with. They were angry, so angry at him, so why couldn't they just- 

“Fine.” They wanted to storm out of the room, but they just couldn't, not without relieving some of their rage first. The two of them had always fought just as hard as they cared for each other. “Thanks a fucking lot.” 

 

The sun was lowering in the sky again when Jet forced herself to turn around. She was easily five hours away from the diner now, probably more, and someone would probably start to get worried about her soon. It wasn’t uncommon for her to go out with the Trans AM in the morning and only return in the afternoon, these days, but Kobra never quite got used to her being gone alone for so long. 

”You could get injured,” he always said, “With no way of calling for help. You could die, Jet.” She usually shrugged him off. 

The drive had calmed her down, at least temporarily, made her feel more sure of herself. The closer she got back to Zone 4, the slower she started driving again, not wanting this time to end. Jet was all but meandering along the highway when she saw a figure by the side of the road, walking slowly. 

Their eyes were locked onto the AM, staring intently. Jet heard a faint melody on the wind, though not one she recognized, and it was just subtle enough to make her wonder if she was imagining it. “Can you help me?” she heard the stranger ask. Their tone was soft and neutral, and easily, easily forgettable. Jet instinctively slowed the car down even further, coming to a halt next to them. It felt difficult to keep her gaze on the stranger long enough to register their features, 

Jet’s eyes always slipping away to the sky behind them or the sand around their feet. It was like their presence was meant to be unassuming, forgotten. 

“Can you help me?” the figure repeated again, and Jet forced herself to look directly at them. They shrunk back as she did so, as if being seen was physically hurting them. 

 

Party rocked back and forth on Jet’s bed, crying silently. She had been out for hours now, and Poison really, really needed a spot alone. No one would come in here, they hoped, though they secretly also needed to talk to someone about it, someone who wasn't Ghoul. 

But just the thought of it made Party shiver, wondering what would happen if Kobra and Jet reacted in a similar way to Ghoul. It's better not to tell anyone else for now, they thought. Look where it got you the first time. 

Poison was a little kid when they first learned not to trust anyone. Kobra must have been a toddler back then, but Poison was already talking and eating properly, just about to go to school for the first time. They were so excited and nervous, they could hardly talk about anything else. 

At this time, they also had a toy they brought everywhere, a little model of a train. Little Poison never left it alone, always driving it across the furniture, telling stories to their parents and their brother about it. Until one day, when it was finally their first day of school.

Of course they wanted to bring the train with them, they didn't go anywhere without it, but just before Party had walked out of the door, their father said something to them. “Leave the toy with me, kiddo. We don't want it getting lost, do we?” 

The thought of losing it terrified Poison, and though they didn't want to go to their new school without it, they reluctantly handed it over. Their father took it, holding it up to the light for a moment, before placing it on the floor and crushing it to splinters underneath his foot. “Off you go, kid,” he said, almost jovially, leaving Poison to walk off, tears streaming down their face.

 

Poison couldn't say how long they lay there, on Jet's bed, recent arguments and feelings mixing all too well with that long ago, painfully clear memory. 

Trust was a dangerous, dangerous game to play, and right there, Poison vowed to never get caught in its web again.

 

The stranger’s appearance was, blank , far more so than it should have been. Their skin was white, a perfect porcelain white that stood out unnaturally. They were rather short, as if they were a child, though Jet knew on instinct that whatever this was was not a child. 

Their eyes looked far too wise, too calculating for that, behind the blank white mask they were wearing. The shape of it looked like the imitation of a killjoy mask, though everything about it was so far off. They were standing right at the window of the car now, facing Jet. “Who are you?” she asked, trying not to get too freaked out. 

There’s a perfectly logical explanation for this.  

The stranger looked at her peculiarly, a smile coming across their face. “I don’t remember.” This was enough for Jet; she decided she was going to drive away, and started to change gears again, when the stranger put their hand on the rolled down window. They didn’t look strong, but something about them gave Jet the sickening certainty that driving away wasn’t going to get rid of them.

“Can you help me find myself?” Their smile widened, and Jet realised that they didn’t open their mouth when they spoke. She knew for certain this was no killjoy, no zone rat, perhaps they weren’t even human . 

She had been taught from a young age not to trust anyone who wasn’t like her, wasn’t a rebel or a killjoy. Not all killjoys were friendly with each other, of course, but they had a common enemy, and a common goal, that went above everything else. 

All killjoys had their own distinct masks that represented them, colourful and bold and free, but this strange figure, standing oh so close to Jet, seemed to be an empty void. 

Never breaking eye contact with her, they seemed to fold themself into the car, in a fluid motion Jet couldn’t quite track. She did know, however, that the car door was most definitely solid, though the stranger clearly didn’t act like it was. 

Jet reached out a hand and touched the door before they could stop themself, and it hit the smooth surface like any other day. The stranger was now sitting in the passenger seat, only inches from her. They stared at her mask, which was resting comfortably around her neck. Jet leant away from them, fumbling with the door handle, trying to get out get out get out . The figure stretched one arm out and reached for the mask, brushing against Jet’s neck as they did. Their fingertips were icy cold and incredibly round and smooth, like a piece of carefully sanded wood. 

Jet cried out at the touch, though she knew no one would hear her. She snatched the mask away but the stranger kept reaching, and the door wouldn’t open, wouldn’t unlock, and the other person kept shifting impossibly closer to her-

Just as their rounded hands gripped onto Jet’s mask, the sound of screeching tires came from right behind the Trans AM. A man got out of his car and ran towards Jet, forcing the door open. Right as she turned around to look at him, he closed his eyes, concentrating, and the next second, the stranger sitting who had just then been sitting dangerously close to her was gone. 

Jet didn’t know what to say. 

“You’re lucky I found you,” the man said, almost conversationally. “Horrible creatures, they are. Woulda gone pretty badly for you if it had gotten your mask.” He was quite tall, his face clearly wethered from years in the heat and radiation, and his auburn hair was growing unkempt, nearly down to his neck, and he had his own mask slung on his forehead. The jacket the man wore had many old looking patches barely clinging on to it.

“How did you-” Jet croaked. “They’re- They’re gone…”

“Yup.” 

“Thank you.” 

He smiled. “Of course. You won’t have to worry about it again anytime soon. I’ll be off now, unless you have any other creatures you need me to take care of?” 

Jet just stared as he walked back to his own car, and drove off again. I really need to get home. She started up her own car again, and started driving, a lot faster this time. The whole encounter had left her shaky, and all she needed right now was to get back home. 

The sun was starting to set around the AM, but she wasn’t far away anymore. And more importantly, she was safe. It wasn’t until hours later, lying awake in bed, that Jet realised she had never even thought to ask the man’s name.

 

Poison heard the back door shut loudly, and the sounds of someone taking off their boots echoed through the kitchen. Jet’s home , they thought. 

And with that, they slowly leaned forward and stood up, trying to ignore the headache that was throbbing fully near their temple. You'll be fine, Poison, they thought to themself. Things always work out in the end.

 

Notes:

!!!

Chapter 5: In which our stories continue

Notes:

for clarity: the -/- indicates the start and end of a recording, this has been used in other chapters but I thought I'd make it super clear anyways

I'm sorry if the formatting is terrible! I had to do this update entirely on my phone and the Google docs > AO3 transition of text is absolutely horrible on mobile :(

cws: mentions of pregnancy

-/-Elias Bouchard here, reporting from the Magnus Institute, London. The subject, Jonothan Sims, has officially passed his first year as Head Archivist. I have been quite pleased with his dedication and compliance, even if it doesn't continue for much longer. The first year's always the hardest, isn't it?

There's always a lot of… questions. I will include here Jonothan’s progress review interview attached, but I think the plan we've put together so thoughtfully will not be in vain. 

I think the Beholding will be eager to work with him more, once he learns to accept it, and Jonothan's brush with the Corruption went more successfully than I expected, though I assure you I had it under control the entire time. I hope your efforts are going well, though I understand you have the far more monstrous task of the two of us, both in size and more physically. 

 

One year progress report- Jonothan Sims, Head Archivist

 

E: You don't mind if I record this, do you, Jonothan?

 

J: No, that's ok. Not like I have much choice to be picky about being recorded these days, do I?

 

E: I suppose not. Now, let's get onto the real business. How have you been finding the re organizing of the archives, for a start?

 

J: I have been making decent headway but there's clearly a lot more work cut out for me, and probably will be no matter how many years I keep working this job. Is this all you wanted to talk to me about? 

 

E: No, of course not. Some pleasantries are expected, though, are they not? It wouldn't be courteous of me to begin the conversation with your little morning smoking habit, now, would it?

 

J, eventually: No, I don't think that it would. But you've also never brought it up before, so I though that-

 

E: Relax, Jonothan. If I truly cared, I would have fired you months ago. Who am I to deny a man his simple pleasures?

 

J: Thank you, Mr Bouchard.

 

E: Allow me to ask something a little strange, will you, Jonothan?

 

J, after a pause: Of course.

 

E: Do you ever reach for specific statements for seemingly no reason, rather than just picking up the first one you see? Do you ever feel like you need to pick this specific one, though you don't know why?

 

J: No, I can't say I do. 

 

J, after another pause: Why are you looking at me like that, Mr Bouchard?

 

E: Oh please, call me Elias. 

 

J: Sure. Do you now mind explaining what you mean, or should I leave your office, Elias.

 

E: I can assure you it's nothing, Jonothan. But just to check, none of the statements seem to just intrigue you in ways you can't understand?

 

J: …Do you believe in some kind of magic, Mr Bouchard? Because that’s what you're sounding like. 

 

E: Please just answer the question, Mr. Sims.

 

J: Please stop staring at me like that, Elias. It's-

 

J: …Yes, on occasion. 

 

E: Excellent. Do you find the tapes interesting, Jonothan? Do you think there is some kind of truth connecting them?

 

J: Only that the people sending them in are likely lying or under some sort of influence.

 

E: I see. On a different matter, how have you been doing after the incident with Ms Prentiss? I’m very sorry you had the unfortunate position of coming that close into contact with her and her… infestation. My condolences, either way…

 

J: Well, it's over now, the hospital has cleared me to take care of the wounds myself now. And I'd prefer not to dwell on it.

 

E: Of course. That is all, you may leave now. Unless you have any other questions to ask me?

 

J: No, I'll be leaving now.-/-

 

 

-/-Statement of- No, I can't do this right now. What was that interview with Elias about? The progress report, as he called it. Is that how these kinds of meetings with your boss are meant to go? 

Some of those questions were beyond weird, honestly. I thought he was going to ask more about the archives, or my lateness every morning, or literally anything other than whatever that was. But the way he kept looking at me…

Maybe his eyes are just naturally unnerving, the brightness of the green is very piercing. But it felt like they were reaching deeper, into my skin, into my mind… 

But that's ridiculous. Then why did I tell him that? Why would I tell him I feel compelled to take certain statements, when I've never given a passing thought to it? Or at least, I hadn't until then… 

When I went to take a statement to read not five minutes ago, I tried to pay attention to why I chose one over the hundreds of others. But I couldn't find a reason, of course. But I also couldn't pick up a different one, no, I needed to read out this one. 

 

Did Elias pull something out of my subconscious that I didn't even know myself? How would that even work? One thing’s for sure, I can't and won't trust him. I don't even know if I can trust the others, or if they're in on whatever fucked up thing happened at the end of last month. I still see the worms everywhere, lurking in the shadows and brushing against my arms, but when I go to check, they're obviously not there.

It's time that I continue my investigation, but this time on my own. I can't raise any suspicion with any of the others, any of them could be doing something to try to sabotage me, or the Institute, and I won't be let them. 

There's no point starting the statement now, is there… Not when anyone trying to play it would hear everything I don't want them to beforehand. I'll go start it on a different tape, it does sound rather fascinating… 

Oh also, I think I'll be keeping these sorts of update tapes in the back of my desk drawer, so that hopefully no one will find them. That could only go badly, only lead to more cracks in my new investigation…-/-

 

-/-Hey Tim, do you want me to go get you some lunch while I get mine?

 

Sure, where are you going?

 

Probably just that sandwich shop across the street, it's pretty decent actually. As long as you don't order the ham, or the chicken. Or the salami… Well, at least it's close by and pretty cheap, so it'll do for me. You want your usual?

 

Yeah, thanks Sash. 

 

No problem. Hey Martin! d’you want anything? 

 

What? I can't hear you!

 

Oh nevermind then, I'll just get ours, shall I, Tim? Hey wait, what's that sitting on your desk. Is that one of Jon's tape recorders?

 

Oh, is it? Yeah, it must be… Wait, is it playing?-/-

 

Kobra's mind was reeling too fast to retain all the information it was getting. It has only been about a month since he had started listening to these tapes, but he felt like he'd found out so much, but not without more and more questions forming in his mind. 

What was with Elias? was only the most recent in the list, along with How were they turning on by themselves?, Are the statements real? and Why don't they all just quit their jobs? There had been a lot of tapes in the box, for whatever reason, about Jane Prentiss. 

For a tape or two, Kobra had been convinced he was hearing the dying words of these people, as Jane and her ‘infestation’ destroyed the office of the Archives. Even knowing she was now, dead, and would long be by now, Kobra sometimes had a difficult time falling asleep at night. But more often, he lay awake wondering about the answers to his questions. 

What was the Beholding? The Corruption? Were they code names for people Elias was working with? Were they some kind of groups or cults? Were the two names/entities/whatever else in any way even linked to one another? Jon didn't seem to know either, which gave Kobra some relief. In a weird way, he trusted that Jon would find out eventually, and Kobra would get to listen along, far from any danger.

 

A tiny part of him even might have cared about Jon, even though he had absolutely no influence over whether Jon was safe or not. It was just… I don't think things are going to go well for him, or any of them, in the end. They're probably all long dead, so why does it still feel like they're in danger? I guess that's just the way recordings work… 

 

Kobra felt worried about all aspects of his life, for the moment. The tapes, if they were real, were certainly scary enough, if quite removed from his actual life. But the rest of the Fabulous Four… Kobra had barely spoken to Jet for ages, not properly. She was always out of the house, or tired, or just staring off into space, jumping whenever Kobra tried to say something to her. 

Party and Ghoul were hardly any better, each talking freely with him, but ignoring each other completely. Kobra desperately wanted to know why, but neither of them said anything when he brought it up, so it had taken a backseat in his mind, just like most things had since the tapes. They took up most of Kobra's brain space, and whenever he didn't listen to a new one for a while, he started to think about them more and more, craving the possible new information he could receive. 

After he finished a good one, Kobra somehow felt fuller, calmer even. He loved that feeling, and he needed the distraction of Jon's world from his own crew's problems, so he just kept listening, tape after tape, hour after hour. What's the risk? Kobra always asked himself. And he could never come up with one good enough to keep himself away. 

 

-/-Martin, can you come organize this for me?

 

Sure Jon, just a second! Ok, he's gone. Sure Jon, I'll clean this for you, I'll make you endless cups of tea you don't seem to care about, I'll just do everything for you, and even that's not enough to be worthy of your attention. Honestly, what's with him? I just- 

 

Maybe this is just what I signed up for with this job. Insane hours, worms everywhere, a boss who seems to hate me for some reason. 

I know he's probably just stressed out, we all are, especially after all the Prentiss stuff. But why does he always take it out on me? And why do I care? Goddamn it, Martin, just keep your head down and work. If the pay keeps coming in, then it doesn't matter. 

Pull yourself together, Martin, just go help him. It's what you do best, isn't it? God, why am I so helpless? 

It hardly matters, not when the world has real monsters in it, ones who seem to be out to get us, for whatever reason. I still keep my corkscrew in my pocket, just in case. This job is a death sentence, and I'm the poor sucker who's too stubborn to quit. 

I've written dozens of resignation letters, but… I can't just leave, this is the best job I'm gonna get isn't it? No matter how I got it- 

I can't believe I even told Jon that, of all people! What's his deal, anyways? And why did I start spilling my guts to him in that room? I guess the threat of death really does that to a guy… God, I really hope the office stays nice and danger free from now on, thanks. 

Ok, I should just steel myself and go now. Wait… Is this thing recording? I didn't switch it on, did I? No, someone else must've left it running and I just didn't notice. Everything’s safe again here now, remember? Her ashes are on Jon’s desk, Martin.-/-

 

Kobra pushed the diner’s sliding door open, and stepped outside into the heat of the desert. The netting of the door did nothing to stop the overwhelming heat from going into the diner, but it worked wonders providing a barrier from the insects outside. 

Kobra looked around, walking slowly around the perimeter of the building until he found the figure sitting in the shade of the diner, leaning against its walls, head tilted down, legs kept close. It was Poison. Their red hair fell down over their bare knees, over their arms, which were clamped tightly around them. 

“What are you doing out here?” they asked Kobra tiredly, without looking up. 

“I was looking for you.” He stood next to them awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his body. Eventually, he sat down next to Party, trying to make his body language feel casual but safe. “What's wrong, Pois?” 

Kobra watched as they shrugged slightly. Their hands curled up slightly, muscles tensed, though it felt like it was subconscious to Party. 

“It's nothing.” That's when Kobra started to worry a little more, though he did his best not to show it. They just need you to be there and not pressure them, and they'll tell you in their own time. If you act like it's a big deal, they'll be more scared about it. Kobra had learned many things about how to make conversations flow they right way over the years, but this was one he always struggled on. He wanted to comfort Party, he wanted to hug them, and he really wanted to know, so that he could make them feel better, but that wasn't going to help right now. So Instead, Kobra tried to fill the silence.

“You know, the tapes are still really mysterious,” he said thoughtfully. Ever since Poison had fought with Ghoul, they hadn't cared as much about Kobra's interest in them, or anything much. It physically hurt Kobra, to see his sibling so down in spirits, but he wouldn't deny that not having to sneak around with the recorders was a relief. 

“I really don't like this guy, Elias, he seems really dodgy, I don't trust him.” 

Party hadn't moved or made any sign that they were listening, but Kobra didn't stop. “And a lot of weird things are going on, I don't know if they were ever real or not, but it's still interesting, isn't it? I can't seem to stop listening to them, sometimes.” 

Kobra let his stream of words linger in the air as it ended, and he watched Poison closely. They were looking up at him now, not meeting his eyes.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” he asked them softly. 

Party reached out a shaky hand and gripped Kobra's in their own, squeezing tightly. Kobra squeezed back as reassuringly as he could. 

“You have to promise me something first,” Poison said quietly. “You have to promise to believe me, and promise that you won't hate me.” Kobra met their eyes, and they looked back so fiercly that he wanted to remove everything that had hurt them this much, enough to make them assume the worst.

“I promise, and I would never hate you, Pois,” Kobra said, trying to sound as genuine as he could. He meant every word he said, but somehow, it never properly sounded like he did. “I promise.” 

“Okay.” They took a deep breath, and Kobra knew that Poison was preparing for every situation in their head. 

“I'm pregnant, Kobes.” 

Whatever he had thought it would be, it wasn't that. The first thought that ran through Kobra's head was what, followed by when and Oh Destroya, please let them make it through this. He was under no false impressions about how difficult it was, to survive pregnancy in the zones, let alone with the baby still alive. “Okay,” he replied, eventually, trying to organize his thoughts. “Okay. Why would I hate you for that, Pois?” 

“Because-” Poison's voice broke off as a sob passed through their whole body. “Because I think Ghoul does, because it thinks I cheated on him, but I'd never do that, I wouldn't, but he doesn't believe me-” 

Kobra felt a rush of something like anger wash through him. How could Ghoul not see that what they needed was support, not distrust? “I just never managed to tell anyone, because this is exactly what I thought would happen, and-” 

Party Poison was properly crying now, and Kobra just held their hand, stroking their palm slowly. “I believe you,” he said automatically. Did Poison really think I would react badly? he thought. I wish they could have trusted me enough to tell me earlier. Did I do something wrong? Kobra knew it was selfish to think these things, that Poison had done what they could, and done a damn good job, all by themself, but he couldn't help it. 

“It'll all be ok, I promise,” he said to them, numbly. “We can get through this together.” 

Party nodded, wiping the tears from their eyes. “You know, despite everything, I really love them,” they said, gesturing towards their stomach, where the fetus of the baby was. “I don't even know them yet, but I hope beyond anything that I get to one day.” 

 

-

 

“Is this all we have?” Ghoul was peering into the cupboard that contained all the food the Fabulous Four had to their name; it was never enough, and today it was almost nothing. 

“Here, I'll see what I can do with it.” Kobra was far from a cook, but he had to do what he could sometimes- and the others were even worse than he was. He walked over to the cupboard, wincing when he looked inside. There was an old, dry box of some kind of noodles, the cardboard of it faded from the sun, one bottle of filtered water and a battered tin of kidney beans. 

The salt shaker had long since run out, something that wasn't helped by Jet's habit of eating a bit straight out of the shaker when she felt anxious, and the pepper grinder had broken, leaving them with unground pepper scattered all around in the corners of the cupboard. 

“Well, pasta and bean soup it is, I guess,” Kobra said, unenthusiastically. He got out their one saucepan and the little gas canister, breathing in sharply when he felt how light it was getting. It had been one of the most expensive items in Tommy's shop when Ghoul had bought it, and there was no guarantee they wouod be in stock again any time soon. 

As the water started to boil, Kobra slid in a quarter of the noodles, and about half the beans. You could never be too careful when it came to rationing food in the zones. Kobra's stomach grumbled unhelpfully as he cooked, though he knew there wouldn't be nearly enough for a half decent meal for any of them. 

“Can you grab the bowls, please, Jet?” he asked, walking carefully over to the table with the saucepan. There were countless burn stains on it from leaving the saucepan on it without a proper surface, but the faded circles just made it feel more familiar. 

 

Jet brushed against him as she made her way to get the bowls, quickly scooping up the gas canister as she did. The diner was remarkably dysfunctional for a place that used to serve food to many people; it barely had four usable plates at this point, and no cutlery, aside from one mismatched pair of chopsticks. There was a ladle, and a rusty pair of tongs, but basically everything else they had had come from Tommy's or occasionally a side of the road sale, run by zoners hungry and desperate enough to sell everything they had for carbons for their next meal. 

Eventually, everyone was gathered at the table, sipping bowls of watery soup. Kobra had made sure to give Poison as much extra as he could get away with, both because he knew they needed a bit of cheering up (not that the soup was very nice; it was mostly tasteless, but it was food nonetheless) and because they were carrying another life form inside them, and they had to eat something too. 

Party must have noticed this, because they smiled at Kobra gratefully, and he nodded back at them. They were still eating when they others had finished, holding the bowl in their hands, the warmth if it comforting.

“Hey, did Poison get more than me?” Jet asked, with a whine in her voice. Knowing her, Kobra knew she wasn't being entirely serious, but decided to go along with it.

“You can get more too, if you're carrying a child, and if the cook is as nice as I am,” he said, smiling. “But until then, I'm afraid you'll have to eat as much as the rest of us, Your Majesty."

There was a silence that echoed around the room as soon as Kobra finished talking, and he only realised it far too late. Wait, what did I do? he wondered, looking around the room. Only as he locked eyes with Poison, who had a terrified expression in their face, did he realize. His stomach dropped, as the full weight of his words settled on him, and he opened his mouth, no words coming out.

“What?” Jet asked quietly. “Pois?” 

Poison glared at Kobra, and he felt even worse than he already did. “Uh. Yeah. He's telling the truth. Which was also none of your business to tell, Kobra!” 

“So…”

“Yeah. Yeah.” They didn't back down, their face looking stubborn and unbreakable.

Kobra stuttered a few times, trying to find the words to express himself. “Shit, Pois, I-” 

“I know.” Party Poison stared at him coldly for a few seconds before turning back to Jet. 

“I… Think I'm gonna go for a drive,” she said, eyes darting around the room. “It's a bit stuffy in here, don't you think?”

I didn't know she didn't know, Poison! Kobra thought, but he wasn't brave enough to say it out loud. What he said instead was, “Jet, no, you can't go alone, it's already getting dark!” But he got no response, and Jet had already taken off into the desert by the time Kobra managed to get outside. 

Jet was gone, Party was clearly mad at him, which was understandable, but he hated it, and he hadn't even known that Jet didn't know, so how was it even fair, and he really, really didn't want to talk to Ghoul about it either, knowing what it had said to Poison. So he just went back inside, back to his room, and lay on his bed silently. He didn't cry; Kobra didn't really do tears, they had been taken away first by expectation, then Better Living’s pills, and he'd never quite managed to get them back. 

He felt so hollow, and without a way to properly release his emotions, he reached for a tape. There was a bunch of them, scattered in the floor around his matress, and he picked up the first one he felt. Not wanting to stand up and turn the light on, he fumbled for the button and pressed play. 

 

-/-Jon, where are you?

 

I'm here, Martin. I'm still here. Come sit down?

 

Sure, I'll just- Make some tea, ok?

 

-

 

Here, careful though, the mug is pretty full, I don't want you to spill it on your hands…

 

Thank you. 

 

-

 

Do you ever think we’ll ever get out of this cabin? Ever be free of Elias, of all of this?

 

I don't know, Jon. But I know that we aren't who we used to be, back at the start. I don't know if it's even possible to separate ‘all this’ from us, anymore.

 

Yeah. Well maybe we'll at least have some refuge here for a while, before whatever inevitable thing inevitably happens. 

 

I hope so. God, what a rocky start to our relationship, isn't it?

 

About the best one we could have hoped for, in this situation I'd say. 

 

Maybe. It sounds so cliche, but I wish we had more time. 

 

Yeah. Me too.

 

I always thought I wanted to experience a tragically beautiful romance when I was younger. Now, I'm not so sure.

 

Oh, Martin… Y'know, if we had longer, I would've wanted kids, I think. Seen their first steps, their first days of school… Had a normal, family life.

 

I think I would’ve liked that t oo. You'd be a great father, Jon.-/-

 

Notes:

In this world Elias refers to Jon as Jonothan constantly for no particular reason, it is canon

also god I love the whole cabin vibe at the start of season 5, I nearly fucking cried writing the conversation between Martin and Jon

Chapter 6: In which Kobra discovers something important

Notes:

hey everyone! I hope you're all doing well!

just as a note, I'm really sorry if there are any plot discrepancies on the magnus side of things, I don't have time to go back and listen to whole seasons of the Magnus Archives, unsuprisingly, so I'm just going off what the fan wiki and reddit has to say

cws: alcohol abuse, fire + mentions of burning to death (not too graphic but it's still there)

The small click of a tape recorder was starting to take over the diner; Kobra listened to them almost constantly, wherever he went. Sometimes, he listened to them to fall asleep. Kobra felt a bit weird about that. How could some of the worst moments of people's lives become so easy for him to listen to that it all felt like background noise? 

 

The Fabulous Four were going through a rough patch, to say the least. Kobra could barely have a conversation with any of them, not Poison, who still felt angry that he had let their secret slip, not Jet, who was out more than she was around, or Ghoul, who Kobra still refused to talk to most of the time. 

So he buried it, deep in a little fold of his mind, and instead threw himself headfirst into the world of the tape recordings. 

Kobra tried and tried, but God, he was weak sometimes. He didn't want to face the pain of Party's distrust, or his with them. He didn't want to face any of it, not when everyone was set to explode anytime a conversation was initiated. So he hid, and he pretended it wasn't happening. 

 

It was better than turning back to the alcohol, though, like last summer. Kobra had been a wreck, throwing himself into parties, and drinking, drugs, endless hookups and relationships, waiting for all the confusing pain to go away. 

But it just made it worse, worse enough to want more, which just started the cycle all over again. This is different, Kobra thought to himself now. This isn't hurting me, and it won't hurt the others, either. Kobra knew that his drinking habits had hurt the rest of his crew, though they would never admit it. 

That was the reason he stopped, in the end. Their worried glances, their shaking tones when they had to help Kobra home in the middle of the night. 

Most of all, Kobra would never forget the moment he woke up on a booth in the diner, to the three of them huddled over him, crying together, thinking he was dead after that last, worst overdose. His heart had stopped completely for about half a minute, and he'd been unconscious for so long that when he woke up he was deathly malnourished. That was the moment Kobra swore never to drink again.

There were times where he just wanted to go back to that sweet, sweet oblivion, but on those days, the rest of the Fabulous Four had his back, trying to distract him or comfort him. But now that they felt so distant, Kobra fought hard not to return to the way he'd been last summer, this time doing it for them. 

So he listened, and he kept on listening, until he'd learned an immense amount but was still almost just as confused as he had been at the start, if not more so. Kobra had gotten to know Jon as if he was an old friend, his dry humour, his bad sleeping habits, his constant disorganized state and defensive sarcasm. He'd learned about Martin and Sasha and Tim and Elias too, even Gertrude Robinson, the previous Archivist. 

Kobra found it a little odd that he had such a clear understanding of everything, that he seemed to be hearing the tapes in a mostly chronological order, but he didn't think about it all too much. Maybe they had all been stacked into the box purposefully for that reason, or maybe it was just luck. The one recording that was out of the ordinary was the one he'd started calling the Tea Cabin tape. It seemed to only be Jon and Martin there, talking and wondering, seemingly clear on a certain topic that was the end of ‘their time’ or whatever, which made no sense to Kobra. 

They were both clearly alive and well, so what had happened? What would happen? He knew there was something large that he was clearly missing, but without it, there was just a gaping hole in the story.

Maybe it had something to do with The Unknowing that seemed to be being talked about a lot. Kobra didn't know what it was, and to his frustration, clearly Jon didn't either. It sounded like some kind of sinister ritual, and it certainly didn't sound good, but Kobra couldn't pin down exactly what it meant. 

Was it an entity, like that Lietner guy was talking about earlier? What was with that anyways? The only way to find out was to keep ploughing through the recordings, or get lucky, the Kobra Kid supposed, so that's exactly what he kept doing. We have to get an answer eventually, right? He wouldn't let himself think about any other answer, not just because he'd grown oddly fond of some of these people, or characters, but also because he just wanted to know.  

That was strange, wasn't it? It wasn't like he'd been taught that curiosity was good, ever, in fact, it was quite the opposite, and Kobra hadn't really thought of himself as someone who had become curious over the years. 

Usually, he didn't care what things were, as long as they stayed the fuck away from him and his family. It was always about how to fix something, or what to do next, not why it was happening. But this was different, and that kind of scared Kobra Kid a bit. He didn't know why, but he felt like he was becoming too close to the recordings, like they were bleeding through to his real life. He didn't like to think about the two mixing together. 

 

In a weird way, they were each a coping mechanism for each other, the tapes turning off the part of his brain that was constantly worried for Poison and Jet and Ghoul, and his life as a killjoy reminding him that it wasn't real and couldn't hurt him, that he didn't need to be scared or paranoid. 

I'm getting close, I can feel it, Kobra thought every night, after listening to yet another tape. It'll be tomorrow, just tomorrow. And there were little breakthroughs, learning about the Unknowing, whatever it was, and other little mentions of things he couldn't quite explain. He learned that Jon and the others couldn't leave the Archives, which settled in the doom Kobra had almost already known was coming. Just tomorrow, just another day , he always thought, until one day everything finally clicked. 

 

-/- Case 0011207. Charlie Samuelson. Incident occurred September 2001, statement given 7th of December 2001. Committed to tape 13th of August 2004. Gertrude Robinson recording.

 

I don't really know where to start, you know? So, I've known him my whole life really, though most people will probably only know his name from the current newspapers. Horrible, horrible death, but I believe it's something more than that. That's why I'm here, innit?

Anyways. Flint Bercroft. My best friend since primary school, my once boyfriend before we realized that didn't really work, my lifetime adventuring partner. We were both really into the outdoors, you see, and we planned hikes and climbing trips every other weekend together, from the times we were both broke uni students until his death, really. 

We made it work, some way or another, even if that sometimes meant borrowing my old dad’s sleeping bags that were filled with holes. 

Then, a couple years back, one of Flint's relatives died. I think it might have been one of his uncles, but I can't be too sure anymore. Either way, Flint wasn't all too close with him, but he'd been, like, rolling in it, at least, enough so to own a cabin in the nearby mountains, surrounded by bush on all sides. 

Though I always preferred camping, seeing the open skies, I couldn't admit it wasn't incredibly convenient, not to mention completely decked out with nice furniture and state of the art appliances. 

It was almost our second home, that first year. I just left half my wardrobe up there and just drove out of town whenever I wanted, whenever I was having a stressful time at my job, whenever I just really wanted to do some painting with no distractions. Flint had always been generous, even back when we'd had almost nothing to our names, but this went above and beyond, and while the cabin was in his name, we basically shared it equally. We still went out hiking and the like together, of course, but in the first while the cabin really strengthened our friendship. 

 

Of course, my father sometimes expressed his disappointment that I wasn't around more often, and Flint's family was… Well, let's just say they never got along with him too well, but felt unreasonably entitled to his new inheritance. But that time was the best time of my life, and I'm not sure that's going to change anytime soon. 

But that's not why I'm here. 

Probably about a year and a half later, me and Flint were both staying at his cabin together. It was completely normal in every way imaginable, we went kayaking on the lake nearby, heated up microwave pizzas and stayed up talking and watching movies till late. It must've been past midnight when it happened. Our movie, I think it was something about vampires, but I don't recall the specifics, had long since finished playing, but neither of us had stood up to turn anything new on. 

We were both sat together on the sofa, half asleep, not really talking, when we heard the first cracking sound. By the time we looked around to check, the entire glass sheet of the fireplace had completely smashed, littering glass all over the floor. 

Flint quickly went and pulled the power out, and the flames died down instantly. I never quite trusted those electrical fireplaces, having never had one myself, but this just sealed it for me. The room we were now standing in had become unbearably hot in the time it had taken before Flint had disconnected the power, but I didn't take my jacket off. Together, we swept up the glass on the floor, both of us visibly shaken, and decided to call it a night.

We got the repair people in as soon as we could, and they assured us it was all fixed up, but after that we seemed to mutually agree not to go back for a while. We did, eventually, of course we did, it was an unfortunate turn of events, but nothing that should keep us away from such a nice place indefinitely. 

But after that, it just didn't have that same comfortable feeling as before. It didn't feel as welcoming, or as familiar, with that new fireplace looming over things. Logic told me it was almost exactly the same as the old one, but after that experience my mind must have altered it slightly, made it feel more ominous and threatening. 

That must've been some time mid ‘99, so the place would have been mostly unused for a good 2 or so years, before Flint finally decided to sell it. It was heartbreaking for both of us, but we'd each moved on with our lives, him moving to another county, and me starting my new job. 

 

Truck driving certainly has its limitations, doesn't it? Not that I hate it, but it was more of a make ends meet kind of job than one I want to be doing my whole life. Either way, before selling, Flint wanted to go back, just once, to properly say goodbye to the old place, and hopefully remove the mental block of it from both our minds. 

Besides, there had been so many good memories there too, and neither of us could give them up without a quiet acknowledgement first.

 

We decided we'd go the next Friday evening, the only time for a long time we'd both have that would work. We'd each drive there and then meet, reminisce, maybe order some Dominos if they were willing to deliver up there, and watch the stars. By evening on Saturday, we'd be gone, likely forever. 

I'd been looking forward to the trip for days, even if I could've technically just gone up there any of those evenings; I still had the spare key. On Friday, I finished my shift early, packed and drove off into the forest. Flint was already there when I arrived, with a smile on his face. 

 

Charlie. You came , I remember him saying, and I grinned back too. We'd kept in touch via text and Skype, but it wasn't like seeing him in the flesh, something we hadn't managed to do in months. We left our cars and trekked a little further up for maybe twenty minutes; both our cars were mostly built for the city, not the gravel roads we'd have to drive up if we wanted to park right by the cabin. 

And there it was, just as I'd remembered it. It felt so serene, so peaceful, just standing there in that clearing, trees a respectful, if cautious distance away. 

We had a great time, settling back into our old rooms and routines easily, though it felt refreshing and different. The longer I stayed, the more I started to wonder if selling was really the right thing to do, though the matters weren't in my hands. 

After dinner, as it turned out Dominos did manage to get up here, some way or another, we decided to take a walk outside. I was far from an expert on stars and constellations, but I still knew a couple, and luckily they were in the sky that night. It was nice when that happened, when some stars just become so familiar, like they're always there for you. 

Many shifts in my truck, just driving for hours and hours, we're done during the night. I almost liked them more than during the daytime, once I'd had enough black coffee. I could see the stars out in the open sky, stretching out across the windshield as far as I could see, and it felt like they were keeping me on track.

 

Flint and I wandered off into the forest together, deeper and deeper. If I'm honest, I kind of lost track of time for a while there, lost in my thoughts. I think Flint did too. 

Eventually, we both realised it was completely dark and we were further away from the cabin than we'd ever been at night. I wasn't even properly sure of the way back, though it wasn't like we'd walked in any odd directions. 

Flint seemed confident at first, but soon he was as confused as I was. We did get back to the cabin, eventually. It had taken us quite a while, we'd been gone for maybe an hour, and we'd just intended it to be a fifteen minute walk. But the thing that really started to spook me out was the clearing when we returned. It was subtle at first, things I almost couldn't see in the dark. 

There was a nail, about head height, nailed into each tree around the clearing. I walked over to one, and there was a simple glass bottle hanging on it, completely clear and almost impossible to see in the dark. This seemed to be the case for every other nail in every other tree. 

I was freaked out, of course I was. I tried to tell Flint about them, and I'm pretty sure he even saw a couple, but somehow, he didn't seem too worried. Possibilities of people following us, playing whatever sick prank this was on us started running through my head, each worse than the next. 

I really, really didn't want to spend the night here, all of a sudden. Flint found it weird when I said I wanted to leave, drive down the mountain and back to the town. I said he could stay without me, of course, but I think he was still puzzled by the fact that the nails and jars freaked me out so much. 

I recall him saying that it was probably just his brother in law, who'd been up here recently, trying to do some kind of experiment into rainwater. I didn't think he was lying , of course, but I didn't think that was the case.

So I drove away, without Flint, finally glad I had brought my own car with me. I was home again in about an hour, in bed in two. 

It was sometime in the middle of the night when he called me, and I realised just how lucky I was to have left when I did. I picked up the phone, eyes still half closed. The clock said it was about 2 am. 

It was hard to hear what Flint was saying, at first. He seemed to be repeating the same thing, over and over, and crying out for help. I think he was in tears.

He kept saying, the fireplace, the fireplace, it's too hot, too hot. I tried to calm him down, to see if he needed some kind of help, but he just kept repeating it. He sounded panicked, and that got me to wake up properly. Everything is hot, he kept saying. The walls are burning, I can't get out. 

I didn't know what to say; it was too much to comprehend. I tried to tell him to get out, but he couldn't, because the door was going to burn his hand off . That's when the flames started. I heard Flint scream, and a split second later I started to hear the crackle of the flames. It sounded like the cabin was on fire, though that was nearly impossible.

I heard him yelling and yelling, I urged him to call the fire department, anyone but me, an unqualified truck driver, but he couldn't find his phone. So I had to hang up. The last words I heard him say were God, anyone, help me! 

Yeah, I try not to think about it too much. So I hung up and called the fire department, and though I think I was a babbling mess, I managed to get my point across. They arrived about an hour later, from what I know, and by that time it was too late. 

By dawn, I was back up there, the police wanted me to make a statement of some kind, wondering why I had known to call the department. I just told them the truth, though I left out everything before the fire actually started. 

And with that, our cabin was burned to the ground, almost completely. Once all the ash and twisted metal had been cleared up, I think it was bad for the environment around, it was almost like the cabin had never been there in the first place. It felt so wrong, that that place that had been so formative for these years of my life was just gone, and obviously way worse that Flint was dead. 

He'd been my best friend for years , and I could barely picture my life without him now. They said it was just a regular fire, maybe the fireplace had been going at too strong of a heat, and malfunctioned a little, like those electrical ones sometimes do, but I didn't believe it. I also hated, with a churning feeling in my stomach, the idea that the fireplace might have malfunctioned again, worse. I hated that fireplace, and I still do now. 

 

But I don't believe it was as mundane as that. That's why I'm here, obviously. I don't know what it was, if it was even anything , or if my brain was just making things up to get out of facing that horrific reality, but I think there must be something worth investigating here. I don't know what it is, what those jars were or who put them up, and I don't even care if you check it out or not, just give me a pat on the shoulder and make me believe you will. That'll be good enough for me. 

 

Statement ends. 

While I don't like to see people suffer needlessly, this has been incredibly important for my research. It seems that the Desolation, and likely the Lightless Flame, is planning a ritual. Whether in the location of that cabin or elsewhere, who could say. I would definitely bet on this just being the practice, though. Hopefully I can find out in time what it is, and how to stop it, if it even matters anymore. I'm starting to think- 

Anyhow. It seems that Flint Bercroft’s death certificates match up with the events that Charlie here describes: died in a fire, house burned down and rescue services couldn't get there in time. 

The fire department reports didn't say anything about the circle of trees around the cabin, but that's really to be expected. Charlie has since been uncontactable, though there is evidence to suggest that she has moved abroad since this incident. I do not suspect her to be in any kind of cahoots with the Lightless Flame, which doesn't ease my discomfort, however, rather the opposite. I'll have to keep an eye on them in future, focus a little more on their efforts. 

 

Even if, as I'm starting to suspect, it's impossible for- I must try anyways. That's really my job isn't it? As painful as it can be sometimes, the entities and their avatars need to be kept in check by someone…

I know I can't do this forever, but I'm going to do everything I can to help the next Archivist, though hopefully I will have a good while left. 

Whoever the next Head Archivist is, if you're listening to this sometime in the future, I hope it satisfies you. And I want you to know that there's always a way forward, someone will always have an answer. Don't give up, and stay sharp. Everything else you'll need to know about the powers, the rituals, and keeping them controlled will be in another tape, I reckon you'll be able to find it, so I won't say too much more here. 

Whenever your time comes, good luck. Recording ends.

 

Supplemental. God… Gertrude knew a lot more than she let on, didn't she? I'm starting to wish more and more that she was still alive… I've tried looking for the tape she mentioned just then, but it doesn't seem to be anywhere. 

I think I more or less know what's going on though, now. This one seemed to click it for me, somehow. I need to speak with the others about this. They all deserve to know, I think. I can't keep keeping secrets from them, not like I did all of last year. Whatever we're up against here, we need to act together.-/-

 

-/-So what are we doing here?

 

I'll get to that in a minute, Basira, once Martin and Tim get here.

 

Typical of you to turn up at the archives again out of nowhere, still spouting all this cryptic crap. I'm sick of it, Jon.

 

I will explain it all in a second, if you can just wait that long.

 

Fine.

 

-

 

So. We're here to discuss something that I think most of us vaguely know about now, and decide what we do going forward. 

 

Where have you been? Can you at least tell us that?

 

Yeah, Jon. We deserve a proper explanation. 

 

Melanie, Basira… It honestly doesn't really matter, I was in America, found Julia Montauk, talked to Gerry- Anyways, it's irrelevant. The thing that's actually important is what he had to say.

 

What who had to say?

 

Gerry- Gerard Keay. 

 

I thought he was dead?

 

He is but- 

 

Speaking to ghosts now, are you Jon?

 

You were in America?

 

Would you all just shut up! I have important things to discuss and while you're probably not going to like them, you're gonna shut up and listen anyways.

 

Ok. Good. So. The Unknowing, I believe it's a ritual, of sorts, that's being done to… Bring a power, if you want to call it that, into this world. The Stranger. 

 

These powers, or gods, or whatever, there's fourteen of them, and they're all different fears, the fear of the dark, of blood and gore, of crawling insects, etcetera. This one, the Stranger, is the fear of being unknown, not knowing who you are, and people in this world are trying to bring it to have more power in our world.

 

Wait so… Where is this supposed power now?

 

I don't really know, it's been described as pushing in on the boundaries of our world, whatever that means, but the important thing is that we cannot let the Unknowing happen. 

 

How do we stop it, then?

 

…I don't know, Basira. 

 

Well, that's helpful.

 

Wait, I feel like we moved past the part that there are literal gods out there who are trying to bring people’s worst fears to life a bit too quickly! What the hell do you mean, Jon?

 

Almost exactly what I said. There's one in particular, aside from the stranger, that we probably need to talk about. The Eye.

 

It's the fear of..

 

Being watched. Having yourself and your life examined constantly, and not being able to escape it. Almost exactly like we do here.

 

Yeah. Yeah, that's right. That's why these tape recorders are always running, always recording, surveying. That's why I- I think we're all connected to the Eye, just by working here, me more so than the rest of you. 

 

But we can't quit.

 

No, we can't. The Eye won't let us. 

 

But there must be some way to-

 

Maybe, but until we find it, we're stuck here. And we have to do something about the Unknowing, and-

 

-

 

This sucks.

 

Yeah. It really does.-/-

 

God, Kobra thought. The hopelessness he felt was washing over him in cold waves. He almost wished he didn't know, didn't have to feel the utter trapped feeling that Jon and the others were feeling. A part of him felt trapped too, thinking back to all the nights he had mindlessly switched on a tape, almost like he had no say in it. 

That was the detail that was making this feel more real. Kobra didn't fully believe that this all, the powers and stuff, were real, but there would have to be some damn good evidence that it wasn't before he started to feel better. 

If this was real, some kind of warning, even, from the past, he knew he had to tell the others about it, even if they would think he was crazy, at first. But there wasn't really anyone he was properly on speaking terms with, anymore. 

Kobra knew none of them would listen if he even tried to say something normal to them, let alone this. Hey, Pois, yeah I'm sorry I kinda told your secret way before you were ready, but I think the tapes you told me not to listen to are real and some pretty bad stuff could happen, or maybe has happened, and could also be happening to me? I don't really know, but you have to believe me. 

Yeah, that wasn't going to work.

 

-

 

Doctor Death Defying sat at his desk, head in his hands. The box was still sitting in the corner of his office, though at this point, it was half empty, and still being raided by Kobra every other day. 

Every time he saw the kid come back, he wanted to warn him, tell him to back off, but at some point the Doctor realised with a sinking stomach that it was probably too late. Kobra was just a curious kid, as he had once been, before the Eye got to him, and it was too late. And then everything has happened, and he'd lost contact with Jon, and everything had gone to shit. 

And he couldn't even protect the four kids who were one of his first priorities. 

Doctor D had tried talking to Cherri about it, once or twice. Though Cherri was younger than he was, he'd been pretty deep into that deathtrap too, back in the day. It was really a coincidence that they'd met, but it was invaluable, even just to convince Doctor Death Defying that he wasn't just going insane. 

I wonder where Jon is now , he thought, like every single other time he'd had a free moment to worry in the last decade or so. And as always, he was no closer to knowing. 

But there were other priorities now too, not just finding him. It wouldn't even help too much, not like what he did for all the zoners out here. And the Fabulous Four- 

If he knew them at all, he knew they'd be able to do something, once Kobra managed to convince the rest of them. I'll talk to him next time, the Doctor promised himself. 

 

Notes:

please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed this chapter!

also my tumblr is @playgroundeyes if you wanna follow me on there! /nf

Chapter 7: In which things go badly

Notes:

ah projecting trauma onto the venom siblings-
also I wrote this in like 2 days cause I was camping the rest of the week so I hope it's not too incoherent

cws: overdose, drug mentions, guilt (is that a trigger?)

 

“Uh guys?” came a voice from outside the diner, sounding very distant. Jet. Kobra’s heart started beating a little faster; it was late, probably past midnight, and Jet wasn't home until now? Was she ok?  

“Jet?” he called out.

There was nothing but a faint sound of footsteps and the sound of something collapsing onto the ground. Or in this case, someone. Kobra hurried out the back, taking a torch with him, feet bare. “I'm coming, Jet! Hang on!” 

The AM stood about 5 meters from the diner, but the key was still in and the headlights glaring. Kobra could hear the dull thrum of the engine still going. Oh, Destroya, he thought. 

He flashed the torch around wildly, looking for his crew member and best friend, not seeing her at first. But then, far away, he saw the silhouette of a figure collapsed on the sand, back towards him. 

Kobra ran towards her, but found the air seemed surprisingly thick, hard to walk through. In fact, the ground seemed less solid the further he walked, like it was just an extension of the sky, and he so happened to be able to pass through it. The sky got lighter and lighter too, though it was pitch black before he had seen Jet, until it was as bright as a full summer’s day. 

Kobra felt oddly dizzy, now, as he started to approach Jet properly now. It was weird, it had only felt like the shortest of walks, but it looked like a long way away that the diner and the Trans AM stood. 

“Jet?” he said, more cautiously this time. He dropped down beside her, though everything inside him felt like he would drop through the floor if he put any more weight onto it. He had a hard time distinguishing where the sky ended and the sandy desert ground started, this close to her. 

Kobra knew that this wasn't good, at all, and that this probably had some serious implications he didn't want to think about, but his first priority was worrying about Jet Star. “Hey, look up at me, Jet.” 

She raised her head slowly, and that was the moment Kobra saw how truly bad the situation was. The look in her eyes was vague, unfocused, and yet seeming to see the huge expanse of space as it stretched out around the two of them. Her cheeks were red, eyes bloodshot, breathing laboured. “What… What happened?” Kobra tried, trying not to scare Jet.

“‘M sorry, Kobra,” she mumbled quietly, syllables dissolving into each other. 

“For what? What is it, Jet?” 

 

Kobra received no answer, instead Jet just shook her head. She felt very light, leaning against him, almost like she wasn’t entirely there. If Kobra didn’t concentrate hard enough, he almost couldn’t feel her against his own skin. 

“Jet, I think you’ve gotta try to stop whatever this is,” he said, not quite pleading, gesturing at the bright sky around them. “This isn’t good, and I know it’s not your fault, but you’ve gotta stop it, and then we can talk.”

“I… I don’t think I can do that,” she replied weakly. “I don’t know…”

“Me neither.” Kobra held her, stroking her hair absentmindedly, partly trying to comfort her and partly trying to keep himself feeling sane. The ground offered no kind of support in feeling real, and Jet was the only other thing around. 

“Kobra…” Jet slurred, not looking up at him. “I don’t know what’s happening, I’m scared-”

Kobra thought over the possibility of telling her about everything he’d just learned, not an hour ago, though it had certainly felt like a lot longer, but worried that that would just freak Jet out more. I’m not sure she’d be able to take it well, Kobra thought. I’m not sure anyone would.

“I just want to know why this is happening, it’s never happened before when-”

When what? Kobra wanted to push, but he knew this wasn’t the time. He needed to explain some things to Jet, and then hopefully she would let him help her afterwards. 

“Ok, can you hear me properly?” he started, speaking in a quiet and measured tone. “It’s gonna be a bit confusing, but you’ve just gotta stick with the explanation, ok?”

Jet nodded once, showing she understood. 

“Right,” Kobra continued, a bit lost on where to start now that he had the opportunity to. “So the tape recorders I’ve been listening to… I think the people in them are real, or at least, were real? Sometime in the past, though I don’t know if they’re alive or not anymore. Anyways, they work at some kind of institute, not the one we found the box at, but a different one.” 

Kobra could feel himself rambling, and willed himself to stop. 

“Sorry. I’m not being very helpful, am I? So these people, they organise witnesses of weird activities, things out of the ordinary, and I think I know what’s causing them now.” 

“What is it?” Jet asked. “Is one of them causing this to happen to me?”

Kobra swallowed before replying. “I think so, yes.”

What does that mean for me?” Jet’s eyes were barely open, and her voice was dropping in volume with every sentence she spoke. 

“I think it means you’re becoming an avatar of the Vast,” came the words tumbling out of Kobra’s mouth before he could stop and explain. 

“There are these powers, some call them gods, and they each exist around a fear,” he said, backing up. “There’s fourteen of them, but the one that you’re connected to seems to be the Vast, the fear of open areas.” Even as he said it, Kobra found it hard to properly believe. It was all too much, far too much for his world. 

“Have you been doing anything that might have caused this?” he asked, but he knew instantly what had happened as soon as the question had come to his lips. All the driving, constantly connecting with the open desert and sky, it was a wonder that Jet had only shown clear signs now. 

But how distant she had seemed before… that was something else.

“Oh,” Jet said, breaking Kobra’s train of thought, and slumping down onto his legs. “I still don’t-”

“That’s ok. I don’t think I can properly understand it either now, or ever.” It was the truth; Kobra couldn’t even begin to process the concepts, let alone how he felt about them, and he didn’t know if he ever could. But while it didn’t feel real, he knew with a sickening certainty, now more than ever, that it was. 

What else could explain the state that he found himself in, caught in an endless blue sky in the dead of night, the floor pale and almost intangible beneath him? “It’s gonna be alright, Jet,” he said softly. “We’ll figure something out, there has to be an answer buried somewhere in one of the tapes.” 

“I feel so…” Jet mumbled, seemingly ignoring Kobra’s previous point. “I think…”

Her weight started to feel more solid to Kobra, and she buried her head into his shoulder. Oh no, Kobra thought. How do I deal with this?  

“Jet, stay awake for me,” he said, trying to calm the rush of thoughts in his mind. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong, so that we can fix it.” He was praying desperately that there was something, anything, more concrete that Jet could tell him. He was in no way equipped to deal with any kind of supernatural induced coma. 

“I’ve- I’m so sorry, Kobra, I know that it’s not good but everything was just too…” 

“Too what, Jet?” he begged, desperately. Kobra could see Jet’s body giving up all the energy it had left. Slowly but surely, the bright blue of the sky started to fade again, the world feeling a bit sharper and more real to Kobra. That was the moment he felt Jet go completely limp, unconscious, and everything hit him again, all at once. 

Kobra didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t just leave Jet there, unconscious and alone, but he needed to go find help. So, with a twisting in his stomach, he left his best friend and ran towards the diner. 

It was probably only twenty or so meters, but his breathing was already strained from panic, and he barely made the distance in one go, before forcing himself onwards into the house, towards the bedrooms. 

“Poison!” he cried out, trembling in front of their door. They must have heard the panic consuming Kobra’s voice because they came out instantly, not questioning the call in the slightest. “What is it?” Poison asked hastily, pulling their coat on. 

“Just come with me!” Kobra took off running again, and Poison followed almost at his feet. They were always faster than he was, which used to annoy Kobra to no end. Now, everything was irrelevant to whatever problem his best friend was facing. “She’s just out there,” Kobra said, panting. 

“Who?” Party replied, almost absentmindedly, before they saw the figure. “Jet!” They took off running again, leaving Kobra doubled over, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. 

“You’re gonna have to help me carry her!” Poison shouted, wincing visibly as Kobra accidentally shone the torch directly into their eyes. 

“Sorry!” Kobra yelped, before running over to help. The siblings carried Jet into the diner, laying her down carefully on the kitchen table. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Poison asked.

Kobra just shook his head numbly. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about the Fears, and besides, he knew there was something else going on too. “She couldn’t say before she blacked out.” 

Poison hummed before starting to inspect Jet for any signs of bleeding or anything else that could be the cause. 

Kobra watched, scared, for almost ten minutes before Party let out a quiet “Oh.” 

“What is it?” Kobra asked instantly, but his sibling didn’t reply straight away. They had a blank expression on their face, staring down at something in their hand. Kobra leaned over to take a look, and as he saw it his insides turned ice cold. 

 

It was a tiny plastic bag, almost empty, but there was enough left inside it for Kobra to clearly understand exactly what was going on. The powder was white, and scarily familiar, a jarring reminder of Poison, in the time right after they had escaped from Battery City. 

They’d been properly hooked, and Kobra had only been a kid, and- He didn’t remember too much of it now, but those drugs that Poison was always hiding when he walked into the room were as clear as day in his memory. 

Kobra looked at them now, and they were still staring down blankly at the bag. Kobra knew he had to be the one to take charge of this situation, as sick as it made him feel. “Poison,” he said, louder than he meant to, but not harshly. “We have to go.” 

Poison looked at him, and their expression was bleaker than anything Kobra could remember seeing. “How did we not-” they tried to get out, but their throat was too dry. 

“There’s no time for that now, Pois. We need to get her to the hospital.” 

“You’re right.” 

The “hospital” was really just a building out in Zone 5 that might once have been a hospital, and now all it was was some slowly breaking equipment and zoners doing the best they could. It had saved more people’s lives than anyone could count, all of the Fabulous Killjoys among those numbers, sometimes more than once. 

 

They just had to hope it could save Jet’s, and that the Venom Siblings could get there quickly enough.

 

-

 

Party hated the drive, hated how they had to stay calm or they'd all crash, hated how, beyond a certain point, there was no way they could make the journey any faster. 

They hated leaving Ghoul at the diner, fast asleep, when he would have come in a heartbeat if he knew what was happening. Jet was sprawled over the seats in the back, head tucked into the cushions Kobra had thought of bringing last minute. 

Her eyes were closed, and Party was trying as hard as they could not to look at her in the mirror, because she looked just a little too close to dead. Was this what it was like for Kobra when I…? Poison's thoughts trailed off. God, I hope not.  

But they couldn't convince themself, not even in the slightest. 

They always knew Kobra must've been terrified, somehow having to get Poison to the hospital, despite not being able to drive, and worried for their life, but they hadn't really talked about it together afterward. Poison always knew they should have tried bringing it up, but after that night, Kobra had been shut off whenever the conversation sounded like it was going vaguely in the direction of the overdose. 

That was one of the things Party truly felt bad about, that they truly regretted in their life so far, letting their feelings and selfish attempts at making them go away interfere negatively with Kobra. 

God, if anything happens to Jet, I'm never going to be able to get over it. I'm in charge of keeping her safe, keeping all of us safe, and how many times have I failed now? 

“Y’know,” Kobra said softly, almost as if he was reading Poison’s mind, “It's not your fault.” 

They looked over at him, startled. “Did I say all of that out loud?” they asked quickly, not wanting the answer.

Kobra chuckled, and it felt so, so out of place in the sombre car. “No, but it was easy enough to tell what you were thinking.” 

“Oh.” Poison’s cheeks flushed slightly in the darkness, though thankfully Kobra couldn't see. “I know it's not, not fully , but it's my job to protect you guys, and I've failed it- again.” 

They saw Kobra frown slightly, before looking away and out at the darkened landscape outside. 

“It was never your fault, Pois,” he said earnestly. “I know you want to protect me, and the others, but sometimes you can't. And you don't ever let us help you, we never even talked about the time you overdosed on those drugs and didn't even try asking me for help, though you could have at any point before that! We both know you were struggling, but you never even admitted it.” 

That hit hard. Party had to work hard to avoid flinching and losing control of the car briefly as they processed the words. 

“I'm not trying to get annoyed at you, Poison, I promise,” Kobra continued. “But I think sometimes, you need to take care of yourself too. We're a team, not a group of kids you need to take care of.” 

Poison forced themselves to keep their eyes on the road. They said nothing. Kobra let out a sigh, and pulled his legs up further onto the seat. He made no further effort to speak to Poison, so they let it go and tried not to focus too hard on the nerves curling over and over in their stomach. 

 

The dingy, bright white lights were on inside the hospital as the Trans AM pulled up to it, illuminating the building in all its bleak, rundown glory. Kobra rushed out of the car immediately, but Poison just sat, trying to muster the courage to get Jet and go inside. 

There were windows running all the way up most of the front of the hospital, showing a clear view of the inside. 

It looked exactly the same as it had last time Poison had been here, that first year after leaving Battery City. They tried to quench the sickness they felt, looking in at all of the off white bedsheets and slowly rusting metal machines. All the memories were coming back and it was all too much, and Poison couldn't stand up, even if they wanted to, their legs felt weak, eyes stinging, and- 

 

“Good morning!” said the nurse who Poison couldn't quite remember the name of. “Are you ready for your tests today? The Doctor says you're doing a lot better, and you'll make a full recovery soon, but we'd prefer to take no risks.” Poison just nodded, though they wanted to do anything else in the world. “Perfect. Right this way.” 

The feeling of needles made Party's skin crawl, made their insides itch, but they clenched their teeth and took it, because surely this is what they deserved, right? And most of all, they needed to get completely better as quickly as they could, and stay clean, to get back to Kobra. What could they possibly say to him that would make this better, even in the slightest? 

“Ok Poison, I think that's everything we need from you for now. If all goes well, you'll be allowed to leave tomorrow, does that sound good?” 

“Ok. Thank you.” They walked back to their bed, ignoring the familiar creaking of it when they got back in. 

There was almost never a time their arm wasn't stinging anymore. 

 

“Party, you have to come help me, now!” Kobra shouted, interrupting the awful flashbacks that were playing through Poison's mind. They opened the car door mechanically, not putting the slightest thought into it, and got out before they could even consider thinking about it. Outside, 

Kobra was already holding Jet’s body, though he was clearly struggling. Poison walked over and supported her legs, and together the two of them walked slowly to the hospital building. Everything inside Party was screaming at them not to, that they couldn't go back in there, bad things would happen, but they quashed the thoughts. 

I can't even think about making this about me, they thought. It's Jet that needs help.  

 

-

 

Kobra walked backwards, approaching the hospital doors, one hand behind him so that he wouldn't run into them. Once, those doors must have been designed to open automatically, but now, there were many handles and holes drilled into it, all of which Kobra struggled with without being able to see them. 

Eventually he got them open, and looking at Poison once, he walked inside. 

 

“What can I do for you?” the receptionist said, not looking up at Kobra, or the lifeless Poison he was holding in his arms. “Uh-” He was never good at talking in situations like this. What was there to say? The receptionist finally looked up, and his mouth turned down into a worried frown as he took in the siblings. 

“What happened to them?” he said, standing up. 

“They-” Kobra fought hard to choke out the words. “I think they overdosed, I found them unconscious, and-” It was too painful to talk about. “You have to help, please.” 

The receptionist nodded once, before walking down a narrow corridor behind him. He came back a minute later with someone who looked like a nurse. She was young, definitely older than both of the siblings, but not by much. She looked stressed and worn out, and Kobra would have felt worse for her if he wasn't completely overtaken by his own stress. 

“Hello,” the nurse introduced herself. “I'm Viper, and I'm gonna have to take them from you. Don't worry, they'll be safe.” 

Kobra was very reluctant to give responsibility of Poison to her, but knew he had to. Once he did, Viper walked away quickly down a different corridor, leaving Kobra standing, feeling empty, with the receptionist. 

“You can go now,” the receptionist said to him. “I would let you stay, but there's not really anywhere to, we're very full up at the moment, but you could-” 

“No, that's ok,” Kobra said quickly. He walked out of the doors again, and back to the car. What do I do now? he thought.

 

“Excuse me,” Kobra said, as loudly as he could muster to the zoner who sat behind the desk. It wasn't anyone he knew, though that wasn't at all surprising. Many many killjoys volunteered here at different times, there was almost no kind of permanent staff. 

“Oh, that doesn't look too great, sweetheart,” the zoner said sympathetically. “An overdose?” 

Poison nodded. “Don't worry, I'll take care of her. You two can sit here, if you want, and I'll come back with an update as soon as I can.” Both siblings knew that was probably going to be hours, but they sat down on the chairs the zoner had been gesturing to. 

They exchanged a glance, but Kobra couldn't bring himself to open his mouth to say anything. He just sat there and waited, for who knows how long, looking around the room, and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. 

It was only when the first light of morning was starting to come through the windows that he finally noticed the tape recorder on the receptionist desk, not two meters away from him. Kobra went to pick it up, curious, and as he did so, he realised it was running. 

Kobra's stomach lurched unpleasantly. 

Fuck , he thought sharply, panic rising in him. This cannot be good.

Notes:

aw man we're really getting into it now

Chapter 8: In which we all get time to rest

Notes:

hello! nice easier chapter today

cws: overdose treatment (please don't hit me up if this information is wrong I'm sorry if it is), minor Eye typical horror, mentions of disordered eating? (I say this for the sake of caution, mostly what I mean is zones typical going hungry sometimes)

enjoy!

Kobra spent all his time in the hospital the next few days. He sat there, with Poison, for hours and hours, until someone came back to them with an update; Jet would be completely ok, in time, they just had to pump the drugs out of her body and monitor her blood for a while. 

From then on, Kobra just stayed by Jet’s bed, day in and day out. He could barely sleep at all, for those few days, but he refused to leave her side.
Jet, for her part, was still her usual self, when she was awake, if very tired and out of it at first. Poison had been like that too. Kobra didn’t yet know how much of that night she remembered, and wasn’t yet too keen to try and ask. 

He knew things were seriously bad, both with Jet and with himself, and he didn’t quite want to dive into that yet either. He’d found two other tape recorders near him so far, and each one creeped him out and made his skin crawl. 

It made him feel weird and different and inhuman , somehow, which he desperately hoped wasn’t true yet. 

When the Venom Siblings found out that Jet would be ok, Poison had rushed straight home to find Ghoul, and they’d been back at the hospital within a couple hours, both looking alert and scared, especially Ghoul. Kobra could see that he wanted to lecture one of the siblings on why no one had decided to wake him up when they went to the hospital the first time, but kept its voice hushed and thoughts on Jet. 

She didn’t really like them all fussing over her, most of the time, though Kobra could see the look in her eyes when she woke up one morning and the three of them were all standing around her, smiles on their faces. 

 

With Kobra refusing to leave her bedside, Poison and Ghoul had to do most other things together, like bring over Jet and Kobra’s things that they needed, keeping watch on the diner and keeping themselves fed. 

Kobra could tell they both hated it, but kept it to some expressionless conversation and stony glares inside the hospital. If the situations were any different, Kobra would have found their argument very amusing to watch, but as it were, he just felt scared and stressed and tired, waiting for the next hurdle in his life to happen. 

Poison had offered to bring Kobra some tapes to keep him occupied in the hospital, but he had denied the offer so fast and so vehemently that Poison looked a little surprised. 

Kobra didn’t want to explain it to them now, so he just said that he wanted to focus on Jet for now, which wasn’t a lie, but very far from the whole truth. 

In truth, Kobra hoped that if he ignored the tapes, didn’t listen to them, didn’t think about them at all, that everything they’d brought to his eyes and reality would just go away . He didn’t want to have to think about becoming some kind of avatar, or for Jet to, or that these things were real , and dangerous, and required him to do something about them. 

All he wanted to be thinking about was Jet’s recovery and maybe Poison’s baby, because despite everything, Kobra secretly thought he’d love to have some kind of child in his life. 

But that was later, not now. Now, he had enough to cope with. 

 

“You guys are back,” Jet said. Kobra looked up at this, and sighed in relief that it was just Poison and Ghoul, not the ever changing range of nurses who came through countless times a day.

“Yeah, we are,” Poison replied, smiling ruefully. “Yeah, sorry we weren’t earlier, Jet, we were caught up trying to figure out the new radio equipment the Doctor got in, there was a lot of wires, even for Ghoul-”

“I get the idea,” she said back, rolling her eyes playfully in Kobra’s direction. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too.” 

“When do you reckon you’ll get out of here?” Poison asked, leaning against the wall casually, though Kobra knew it must have taken them quite a lot to walk into the hospital every day, and act like nothing was wrong. 

“I don’t know, maybe sometime next week? Everything’s fine with my blood and stuff, but whenever I try to stand up, I feel really dizzy, for some reason? Like I’m somewhere really high up. But aside from that, everything should be all good to go!”

Kobra bit his lip, like he had all the other times Jet had mentioned it, or tried to stand up, only to need Kobra to lean on. “But it’s getting a little better, isn’t it?” he asked, though he knew the answer all too well.

Jet shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, I can’t really tell. It doesn’t feel all too different.” She shot a look at him, which Kobra pointedly ignored. 

“Well, I hope it goes away soon,” Ghoul said easily. “It’ll be great having the two of you guys home again. For now I’m just stuck with Poison over here-” 

Poison rolled their eyes at Ghoul, not in a hostile way, but clearly not in a joking one either. 

“Anyways,” Kobra said, trying to keep things moving. “What’ve you two been up to?” 

“Not much, honestly. Done the usual errands, some transporting shit for other people. Oh! We got this cereal from Tommy’s, absolute steal , by the way, but it tastes so good… You’d better be back home before Poison scoffs it all-”

“Hey!” protested Poison. “I had one bowl-”

“Anything else happen?” Kobra asked, knowing there must be something else, or they wouldn’t be arguing over cereal. 

“Not really…” Poison said, though they seemed like they were hesitating about saying something. 

Kobra raised an eyebrow at them.

“Fine. We… got into a firefight on the way here.”

“What? Are either of you injured?” Jet lept in immediately, looking concerned. “Do you need any kind of medical attention?”

 

“No, it's- We’re both fine.”

“You mean I’m fine,” Ghoul cut in. “That burn on your arm looks nasty, Pois, and the scratch on your cheek was bleeding five minutes ago. Bleeding. That’s not fine.”

“But it’s not bleeding now, is it?” Poison protested. “I’m fine . 

Kobra watched Jet look once to Poison’s arm, and then to their face. She didn’t look convinced, not at all, but stayed quiet. 

“Look, Party,” Kobra started. “It might look like it’s fine now, and then turn out not to be. There could be some kind of infection or shit down a few layers of skin or whatever. And you’re at the best place to be for that right now, anyways.”

“Would you all just leave me alone!” said Poison, sounding like they were about a second away from letting out the foulest string of curses Kobra could imagine. 

“It was nothing really, only one or two dracs, one nearly got me in the leg, but I’m fine now. We both are.” This statement was not supported by the quick hiss they made as their leg brushed against the side of Jet’s bed. 

“We can all see through it,” Jet put in. “Just accept the help, even if you don’t want to.”

“No!” Party Poison all but shouted. “I’m not about to be hospitalised or whatever again, I’m not gonna let them stick needles in me!” 

Kobra bit his lip. So that’s what this is about. He was just about to say something to comfort them when a nurse came over, having heard Poison’s outburst. 

“What’s the problem over here?” the nurse asked, only seeming somewhat engaged. 

“Nothing,” Poison cut in quickly. “We were just leaving.”

The nurse nodded. “I see. Have a nice night, folks.”

Ghoul nodded, smiling, before shooting a glare at Poison. “You too.” 

“I guess we’re heading off,” it said apologetically to Jet. “Sorry it was such a short visit, but we’ll see you again tomorrow, I hope. See ya too, Kobes,” Ghoul added.

“That’s alright,” Jet said. “You can always make up for it by having the diner spotless when I get back.” The two of them shared a laugh that Kobra couldn’t help but join in on; the diner had never been clean in its life. 

“Bye Ghoul, bye Pois,” he said, and Poison waved back at them. They positively dragged Ghoul away, and it reluctantly followed. 

Soon, the two of them had rounded a corner and were out of sight, though they came back into view shortly, outside, getting back in the Trans AM, through the large hospital windows. 

“So,” Kobra said, but it was the kind of so that didn’t really have any other conversation attached to it. 

“Uh,” Jet started hesitantly. “There’s some stuff I’ve been meaning to ask you?”

“What is it, Jet?” Kobra asked instantly, looking at her.

“So, you remember that night when I overdosed,” she went on slowly. “And you were talking about stuff you found out from your weird tape recorders.”

“Yeah?” I guess we’re talking about it now , Kobra thought. Better now than never. 

“Did that actually happen?” 

Kobra was taken aback. He didn’t expect that to be the question. “Yes?” 

Jet breathed out, looking relieved, before another thought hit her. “So the stuff was- Is- actually real ?”

Ah. That was the part he didn’t want to even think about. “I think it is,” Kobra said quietly. “Do you remember… Do you remember anything about our surroundings during that conversation?” 

Jet thought for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. “It’s kind of distant, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kobra said automatically. “But… you remember the whole conversation?”

“I remember things about some kind of powers?” she said, not sounding quite sure. “Didn't you say something about me being an avatar? Whatever that means?”

“Yeah, I did…” Kobra said slowly, trying to think of the best way to talk about this, again. The bustle of other patients and staff members all around them wasn't helping, though he doubted any of them would care if they overheard his whole monologue. 

They'd probably just think he was another wavehead who'd spent too much time in the sun, or some kind of weird cult guy, both of which Kobra didn't exactly like, but could deal with for a few more days.

“I did say you were an avatar, when we talked,” Kobra stalled. “An avatar of the Vast. The Vast is one of the powers, which you remember about, right? Cool. What does that mean for us? Well…” Kobra thought it over for a long while.

“I'm not really sure.” Jet was looking at him concernedly, now lying down again. “Is it the reason I'm still here? Why I feel so dizzy?” she asked bluntly. “Can you get rid of it?” 

“I wish I could,” Kobra said softly. 

Just then, Jet turned her head, looking at something behind Kobra. It was a small table, in the corner of the room, with a simple vase on it. 

There were no flowers in it, of course, and it looked like it might have been cracked in a few places, but it was still beautiful. That wasn't the thing that caught Kobra's eye, however. It was the tape recorder lying in front of it, whistling very quietly, like a distant kettle. 

The green light was blinking, indicating that it was on and recording.

 

“Is that one of yours?” Jet asked hesitantly. “It looks exactly like–” 

Kobra swallowed, swiftly turning the damned thing off. “No, it's not. But they've kind of been… following me, around? For a while?” 

“What?” Jet looked deeply confused, and Kobra wished with all his heart that he could not understand either, not feel this sickening clarity twisting his insides sharply. 

“It's because I'm an avatar too,” he said heavily. “Of the Eye. Fear of being watched. Listened to. Recorded.”

“Oh,” Jet said. “Ok.” 

“Yeah.” 

She smiled up at him, teeth almost discoloured in the bright glaring white lights. “I guess us avatars should stick together.” 

Now it was Kobra's turn to smile. “Of course, Jet. Hey, I'd never abandon you anyway, you know that, right?” 

“Of course, “ she replied warmly. “You better start explaining what an avatar actually is , though.” 

Kobra laughed. “Of course. So basically…”

 

-

 

Ghoul and Party drove home in a slightly awkward silence, only broken by the sounds of the AM’s tires going over rocks and potholes. 

This had become their routine now, sitting in silence, not talking to each other unless it was necessary, and even then, the words were clipped and short. It hurt Ghoul, slightly, but when he remembered why they weren't talking, it was slightly easier not to feel bad.

At least, on a surface level. 

The more time passed, the more it knew that he had definitely been more in the wrong in that argument, more than Poison, and far more than it liked to admit. Ghoul was never really good at apologies, though, and he hated himself for it. He just didn't know how to go about it.

He'd wanted to, of course, he even wanted to now, and with Poison's eyes consistently fixed on the road in a steely gaze, it would be much easier to get its point across. 

But it wasn't the right time now, and the one thing Ghoul knew was that the time needed to be right. It just hoped that time would come soon.

 

Ghoul snuck a look over at Poison. The half of their face that was closest to it was slightly illuminated by the dim car light he had fixed months ago, just enough to show the small white scars lining their cheeks and forehead. 

They weren't major, or significant, just something that happened in the zones, once you'd been living there long enough; Ghoul had gotten its first at five years old, a small, straight one right over its left eyebrow. Eventually, the one Poison had gotten in the earlier firefight would join them, slightly longer and thicker than the others, but uniform nonetheless. 

You should've really had that looked at, Ghoul couldn't stop thinking, even now. It had been a lesson that he wasn't sure Poison had ever learned: that just because something was tolerable didn't mean that fixing it wasn't pointless. 

Of course, Ghoul knew that something had happened to them, before the two knew each other, that had a heavy effect on how Poison saw medical attention and hospitals, though he didn't know what it was. 

Maybe they would tell it when they were ready, or maybe he didn't need to know. But all the snaps and cold remarks that Poison made at him for not understanding, even though there was no way it could , was driving Ghoul further and further from trying to make everything up to them. It was stupid, and selfish, but it couldn't help feeling the hurt Poison had radiating from them today, and it made him feel angry himself. 

 

Soon, the Trans AM pulled up to the diner, stopping with a gentle jerk backwards. Poison sat, still staring at the road, for a long while, key still in the ignition, engine still thrumming quietly.

Ghoul got out of the car, slamming the door just a little louder than was technically necessary, and walking into the diner. The door was unlocked, like it always was; it wasn't like they owned a key for it, and robbers were rare anyway. Just as it crossed the threshold, its stomach growled. 

Come to think of it, Ghoul wasn't sure they'd eaten anything yet today. He didn't really feel hunger all too often, and was used to ignoring it when he did, so sometimes days went past before he remembered to eat something substantial. At least, as substantial as they could get out here. 

Standing on its tip toes, Ghoul grabbed a can out of the cupboard without knowing what it was. He read the label: bean soup. It turned, about to go sit down, before sighing and getting down a second one (Power Pup) for Poison. 

If he hadn't eaten yet today, it was very unlikely they had either. He pulled the lids off of both of them, rummaging in the cutlery draw with his other hand. When he walked out into the living room, it discovered Poison already sitting right in the middle of the couch. 

“I- I brought you some food?” Ghoul stuttered, passing the can to them. They didn't say anything in response, but started eating. Fair, Ghoul thought with a sigh. It stood awkwardly, not sure whether to sit down or give up and move back to the kitchen instead. 

“Sit,” Poison said shortly, solving Ghoul's dilemma, so it did. Unsurprisingly, Poison said nothing after this, leaving the two of them to their own food and thoughts. Ghoul thought about moving somewhere else, wanting desperately to get any more space between it and Poison, taking the terrifying meter or so and turning into half the house, just to escape this awkward feeling the air was thick with, but he never did. 

Eventually, Ghoul finished his bean soup and set the empty can down by his feet, only for Poison to do so a split second later. 

They went to take out the empty cans and cutlery to the kitchen, but Ghoul went to interrupt first.

“Wait,” it said spontaneously. “We should do something. Something fun. We don't have to be sad and worried at all time, do we?” Poison glared at him. 

“I'm going to go to bed.” 

Ghoul looked at them desperately. “Please, Poison? It'll help, I know it will.” 

“I'm not going to do anything with you right now!” they snapped back. “You can't just go back and start pretending everything is fine!” 

A lump formed at the back of Ghoul's throat, but he quickly pushed it down. He didn't know what had suddenly come over him, trying to act friendly with Poison again. “You're right,” it said quietly. “Let's just go to bed.” 

Poison bit their lip, now looking like they were weighing up options, but Ghoul didn't care. It was already walking away and you the stairs; the empty cans could wait until tomorrow. “Ghoul-” 

It turned around, suddenly annoyed. Of course now that it had agreed with them they just wanted to start arguing again. “Don't go to bed just yet,” Poison said, and then immediately looked like they regretted it. 

“Why not?” Now it was Ghoul's turn to snap at them. “What else is there to do?” 

Poison sighed angrily, if that was even possible. “I don't like it when we're arguing like this.” 

“Then why do you keep starting it?” 

They spluttered, evidently trying to convey all their emotions. 

“We wouldn't be here if you hadn't said those bullshit things!” 

“Well I can't do anything to change that!” Ghoul shouted. “Can I?” 

“You could at least try to apologize!” 

Ghoul sighed. Yeah, I could. It glared at Poison, just for a second, not knowing what to do.

They looked back at him expectantly, waiting.

“Fine.” Ghoul tried to sum up all its emotions, in a way to make Poison understand, to make himself understand better, even. “I'm sorry, Poison,” was all that came out of its mouth at first, but it was nowhere near enough. 

“I don't know why I didn't believe you, or why I said any of those things, and I don't have any way to prove to you that I don't mean them, I never would, but you just have to believe me, I guess. I believe you, I know I do now, but I was too surprised to think properly before, and I know I was a total jerk, but I really am sorry.” It bit its lip. “You don't have to forgive me or anything, though, I know it's a lot.” 

He waited, desperately, for Poison to say something, anything, to make any indication that they had heard what it had said. 

“I… I don't know if I'm fully ready to forgive you,” they said slowly, shattering Ghoul's heart the slightest bit. “That really, hurt, you know? But I do think we need to try and move past this, even just for the sake of Jet and Kobra when they get home.” 

Ghoul smiled, just slightly. Trust Poison to make their relationship about Kobra in one way or another.  

“Okay,” he said, trying to organize the thoughts in his head. “Where does that leave us, now, then?” 

“Well,” Poison replied, smiling. “Off to do something fun?” 

 

The two killjoys went out to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards, talking all the while. Ghoul knew it would still be a while before everything was properly alright again, but this was a start, and a lot better than things had been in ages. 

“Hey, check this out!” Ghoul said loudly. He stood up quickly, his knees cracking, with a bottle in hand. It was mostly empty, however, there were at least a few gulps each left in it, enough to get them feeling good, not enough to be properly drunk.

“Uh, I can't,” Poison said, their voice slightly muffled by the fact that their head was buried deep inside a cupboard. 

“What?” Ghoul asked, confused, before he remembered. “Oh yep, the baby.” 

“Yeah. I found this, though!” Poison reappeared, narrowly missing the sharp edge of the cupboard with their head. They were holding another bottle, this one filled likely with some sort of juice, though the label had long since faded into unintelligibility. 

“Oh, ok,” Ghoul replied, quickly getting out two glasses. Poison rolled their eyes at it, smiling. “Boring, you are,” they said, before taking a swig straight from the bottle. 

They choked some way through the sip, grimacing and coughing, trying not to spill any out of their mouth. By the time Poison had swallowed it all, the two killjoys were both laughing as hard as they ever had, for no real reason. 

“Pass it to me,” Ghoul said weakly, between fits of laughter. Poison did, silently, and Ghoul bravely took a long swallow. 

“Oh, this is foul !” it exploded, as soon as it could. “When did this shit expire?” 

Poison said nothing, just laughed even harder. 

They were standing very close to each other, both leaving on the kitchen bench, bottle of juice in between them. Quickly, Party leaned over and kissed Ghoul fleetingly, and he almost melted at the relief of it, the feeling he'd been missing for so long now. 

As soon as they had initiated the kiss, Poison pulled away again, but the feeling in the room was different now, slightly warmer, maybe. 

“Wait, was that ok?” they asked worriedly. “I didn't-” 

“No, no, it was perfect,” Ghoul replied warmly, meaning it. “Now, I bet you can't drink the rest of this in one go!” It laughed mischievously, looking up at Poison, who's eyes were full of fake outrage.

“Oh, challenge accepted!” they said quickly, and Ghoul couldn't help but feel a renewed sort of love towards Poison. He had to admit, though, he was also majorly impressed when they did, in fact, manage to drink the rest of the juice in one go, both of them laughing all the while.

Notes:

don't forget to comment and give kudos if you want to!

Chapter 9: In which strange circumstances occur

Notes:

"In which strange circumstances occur" AKA THE ENTIRE PREMISE OF THE FIC BUT YK
welcome to another chapter of me making up whatever shit about the killjoys and the zones I feel like!

cws: claustrophobia and general the buried horror, shooting (no one gets shot sorry spoiler)

“You sure you’re up for this, darling?” the nurse asked Jet, glancing quickly at her face, then at the wide windows. 

“Yeah,” Jet said as firmly as she could, though she could tell it probably sounded very weak to everyone around her. “I’m sure I can do this.” 

The nurse clucked her tongue. “Well, if you’re sure… I’ll go fetch you a wheelchair, if there’s one available.”

“Thank you.” Jet wished she didn’t feel so weak and so dizzy every time she tried to stand up, she felt inconvenient and drained and that made everyone fuss over her. 

I’m perfectly fine! She wanted to scream, though it would be about as effective (and truthful) as Party’s insistence that they had been fine the other day.

It’s not my fault, so why are you punishing me for it? She always went on inside her head, anger bubbling up. None of the nurses or doctors had any idea how to make the dizziness or weakness stop; she had been eating more and better than she really ever had before, it was all coming out of nowhere. 

No one made Jet feel like she was putting it on or imagining it (how would that even be possible?), but it was still getting hard to tell everyone that no, it still feels the same.  

Kobra hadn’t pushed her on it, not at all, but Jet knew that he wanted to go home too.

“Here you are!” the nurse said cheerfully, wheeling in a wheelchair from one of the back rooms. “This is the only one we had back there.”

“Thank you,” Jet repeated, absentmindedly. She swung her legs out of bed ungracefully, and got into the wheelchair without too much difficulty, though her vision swam for a while after. When everything started looking and feeling normal again, Jet started wheeling herself towards the exit, leaving Kobra trailing slightly behind. 

 

God, the air feels so good, was the first thought Jet had as she wheeled herself outside, struggling a little with the sand. It was a clear, still day, the sun absolutely scorching, and Jet loved every second of it. 

Kobra grumbled, something about being burnt to a crisp, but Jet couldn’t bring herself to reply. There was so much space out here! Stretching out above her and straight ahead was plain, empty sky and sand, those of which she had clearly been missing so much. 

There were massive boulders on each side of her vision, and one a little further away, near the road, which the hospital had been built around because of the natural protection. Sure it might be hard to see possible ‘crows, but that meant they couldn’t see the hospital as well either, which meant that they couldn’t shoot it properly. 

It didn’t matter to Jet. She would take any sky any day over none, even if there were boulders in most directions. 

“Do you feel any better?” Kobra asked her, bringing her back down to earth for a second. 

Jet thought about it. 

“I think… I think I do, actually.” Somehow, the sunshine and the light and the colours of being out in the world made her feel much more real , and less weak. 

“This is some existential shit.” 

“You think it’s because…?” 

“Maybe. Probably.” Jet didn’t really care if it was because of any kind of supernatural entity, not right now. It benefited her, at least for the time being, so the whole impending not being quite herself could wait for another while. 

Jet stood up, suddenly, spontaneously. It wasn’t that she felt less dizzy, really, but now it felt- Jet didn’t know. More satisfying, maybe? It made Jet feel like she could take off and start walking and dancing on the open air any second now, and still be completely in control. 

She felt almost breathless, walking and running out on the open plain, the sand burning the soles of her feet. She was out nearly by one of the boulders now, maybe a hundred meters away from the hospital, waiting for Kobra to catch up. 

Jet lay down on the warm sand, waving her arms meaninglessly, and staring up at the big blue expanse of the sky. It sure felt very vast. 

Kobra suddenly came into her sight, panting for breath, doubling over before sitting down next to her. 

“I’m glad you feel better, Jet,” he said earnestly. 

“Me too,” she replied, meaning it more than Kobra could ever know. “We can leave the hospital now!”

“Yeah.” 

Kobra’s tone was slight and kind of muted, something Jet didn’t fail to pick up on. You didn’t come to be best friends/family/crew for years without being able to. 

“...What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Kobra stared at her, before realising what she meant. “Oh. I’m just…”

“Just what?” Jet prompted, leaning upwards to sit right by Kobra in a fluid motion. 

“I was just thinking, don’t you think it’s… Scary, to have to rely on these powers to stay healthy?” 

I mean,” Jet said, before she meant to. “I don’t know that I’ve really thought about it. I didn’t really realise that it was so connected before right now , you know?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve never really felt like this, before I really figured it out. But now-” Kobra shuddered. 

 

“I know it’s- Not the best idea, but what would happen if you just listened to another statement?” Jet wanted Kobra to feel just as good as she did right now, all good and strong and like she could do anything, cosmic consequences be damned. 

“Well, probably nothing too much just this time, but it all stacks up, doesn’t it? Hunger and this weird fogginess in my eyes is a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.”

“Maybe, but-” Jet didn’t know how to react. How long had Kobra been “dealing with this”? “It’s been getting worse, hasn’t it?” she continued, her voice dropping away as she went on.

“Yeah,” Kobra said in a small voice. “This part of my left eye- I can still see with most of it, but-”

“God, Kobra, that’s…”

“Not great, I know,” he cut in for Jet. “it’s really not, but who is there who can lecture me about how I deal with magically caused ailments?”

“Uh, me, for one thing?” Jet said. “And I say listen to the goddamn statements, Kobra, you know we do want you to still be alive in the next week?” 

Kobra didn’t say anything for a very long time. Jet had almost given it up when he said, in a small voice, 

“I just can’t help but think that that would be giving it exactly what it wants.” 

“ It doesn’t want anything, Kobes!” Jet all but shouted back. “You’re still you and I’m still me, and most of all, we’re still here together and not dying of starvation or cracking our heads open of vertigo!” 

Kobra smiled at this, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Jet wished she could make him see everything as she did; she knew Kobra struggled with caring about himself enough, sometimes, especially when there were more important things to be thought about, but this wasn’t a case where he was allowed to do that, dammit, Kobra!
“If anything, you can’t try and do anything to save me if you’re dead,” Jet tried, purposely making her voice warm and joking. “And we all know you can’t resist a saviour opportunity-”

Kobra rolled his eyes, though Jet could see that she had gotten through to him. 

“I guess you got me with that one,” he said, smiling properly now. 

“Hey, we’ll get through this together, yeah?” Jet replied, a little more serious now. She barely knew what this even meant, to them, but knew that the only chance they had was together. “And let’s do everything we can to protect the others too, I swear to Destroya, if we get home and Party’s suddenly become an avatar of something-”

“Oh god no,” Kobra replied, laughing now. “Can you imagine them trying to fight with whatever power was messing with them and absolutely losing -” 

Jet could totally imagine it, and it made her start laughing even harder. God, she could not wait to be back home.

 

-

 

Ghoul strolled down the street leisurely, enjoying the feeling of its hand in Poison’s. He was so glad that things between them were better again, if not perfect. It would take a long time to get back there, and that had to be ok with Ghoul.

“Wow, I haven’t been here in ages,” he remarked, his head turning in all different directions, taking in the scene. 

There were killjoys walking down the street just like the two of them were, ray guns at their belts and gesturing wildly with their hands while talking. The houses lining the road were small and old, but they were all painted the most out-there colours that the zoners could get their hands on. Many of them were red, some green, some yellow. One was even pink. 

This was one of the only areas in the zones Ghoul would call a town, if he was asked. Thistle, as it was known by zoners, was a haven for trading and getting information, if you needed it, as well as just a place to rest, as long as you weren’t perceived as a threat. 

“The shade’s nice,” Poison said distantly, looking up at the huge piece of cloth that had been stitched together and strung up far above, giving the whole town some relief from the sun. “Maybe we should try and get one.” 

“Maybe, when we’re rich,” Ghoul replied, rolling his eyes. 

“True.”

 

Markets lined the street, masses of canvas and rusting poles and boxes, each selling fabric or fruits or whatever other scraps some zoners found to make a living out of. 

Ghoul’s family had been one of them, once. His mother always used to be out here, trying to get the carbons for them all to survive the next storm, the next heat wave, the next big sickness. 

She never let Ghoul come alone, though it often begged to be included. 

And then- Well, Ghoul didn’t have any way to contact them anymore, and he didn’t feel like it wanted to either. Maybe that would change, but for now it was more than happy to have Poison and the others. 

“Look at that person’s hair!” Poison said, a little too loudly not to be overheard. The zoner turned their head towards them, slightly aggressive at first, but smiling when they saw Poison’s face turn bright red. Ghoul had to work hard not to start laughing instantly, instead saving that for when they got a bit further away. 

“Pois, I know you meant well but that was hilarious !” it burst out. “God, no one but you out here would be able to get away with that-”

“Hey!” Poison protested. “We’re still not on insulting terms, you better get your act together, young man,” they said, faking the sternness in their voice. 

“Oh look out, it’s the meanness patrol, I’m so scared,” Ghoul shot back lazily, smiling.

 

The two killjoys wandered in silence for a while, taking in the scene and the items for sale at the makeshift market. Ghoul suddenly remembered why they were here: finding something for Jet to welcome her home again. 

Apparently, she’d suddenly gotten a lot better in the last day or so, and was nearly ready to be going again. The hospital people just had to be sure it wasn’t some kind of fluke. Ghoul really hoped it wasn’t. 

“Ooh, what about this?” 

Ghoul flinched, hard, as he saw Poison had picked up and was inspecting a small bowl, not very deep on the inside, but clearly lovingly looked after and very beautiful, with thin lines of gold and red running through the cracks in almost fossil-like patterns. 

They held it up to the light, turning away from the stall holder, clearly intrigued by it. This made Ghoul feel even more tense, eyeing the stall holder to see their reaction. As Ghoul would have expected, it wasn’t good.

“Poison, put that bowl back,” Ghoul said quietly but urgently. 

“Huh? Why? I’m not gonna steal it or anything, I’m just admiring it,” Poison replied, confused. 

“Yes, but-” Ghoul sometimes forgot that Poison was from the City, but at other times it shone right through. 

Any desert born killjoy would understand that acting like you were going to take something from someone else, rather than paying what was owed, was gonna get you into a solid firefight, and besides, was a shitty thing to do. 

But for all the years Poison had been living in the zones, they never seemed to quite feel the protectiveness other zoners had over things that were rightfully theirs. Ghoul didn’t know how it could best explain it to them.

“You can’t just take someone else’s stuff out of their control until you’ve bought it, you know?” Ghoul knew he wasn’t quite hitting on the body of it all, but found that this was the easiest way to explain it. “We’re gonna get-”

“Hey!” came the gruff voice of the stallholder, who had now seemed to have enough of the two killjoys. 

“Give that back to me and get the hell out of my area.” 

Ghoul looked up for a second to see the stallholder drawing their ray gun, and a dog stood by their feet, looking fiercely at Poison. 

Around them, more people from different stalls and people who were clearly in the same crew as the stallholder started drawing their guns too. Oh god, Ghoul thought. 

People all around it and Poison were starting to move in, closer, faces ominous and threatening looking, eyes trained on the two. 

Ghoul didn’t know what to do; he’d never been on this side of this kind of interaction before, not truly. God, Poison, you didn’t have to mess with all this! it thought, though he knew that it wasn’t really their fault for not understanding widely agreed upon zones rules that no one ever talked about or mentioned. 

The people were coming in closer and closer, starting to aim their guns now, as Poison didn’t make any attempt to move or return the little bowl. They were likely frozen in shock, just as Ghoul was. But he knew they had to do something quickly, or they were about to get ghosted. 

So he took off running, his shoulders hitting against skin and cloth as he dodged blasts and tried to find a clear path out, hoping all the while that Poison was right behind him. 

 

Ghoul ran as fast as he could down the main street, sticking to the sides and the shadows, hoping that this whole miscommunication would be solved quickly. It didn’t even look backwards, though blasts of light were clearly coming past his head every few seconds. Soon, Ghoul reached the end of the street. 

Fuck, were do I go now? It wondered, looking furiously from left to right. FUCK, why didn’t I run the other way, back towards the car? Ghoul cursed himself. Before it could move any more, someone appeared by his side, panting and swearing. It was Poison, Ghoul realised, relieved. 

“Where do we go now?” they asked, voicing Ghoul’s thoughts. 

“I don’t know, but we need to keep moving-” Ghoul kept scanning the area, there must be something out there, there must be, when he finally saw it. It could be nothing, but it also could just be their getaway plan.

“Poison, do you see that, over there?” it asked, pointing at the ground a little while into the distance.

“You mean that hole in the ground?” They looked confused, but Ghoul was already running towards it. “What do you mean…?” Poison continued, but it could barely hear them with the wind rushing through their ears.

“You have to trust me!” Ghoul yelled back at them, though it didn’t even really know what it was planning to do, or whether the hole in the ground would even be what he thought it was.

“Aha!” it yelled with satisfaction a moment later, coming to a stop in front of it. Luckily, it was exactly what he thought it would be. 

“Is that a….?” Poison trailed off, having now caught up with Ghoul again, but he shushed them. 

“There’s no time, look, they’re basically here again.” They were; the people of the town were still right on their heels, some in cars now, but most on their feet. 

The stallholder who Poison had pissed off to start this whole mess was barely three meters away from them. 

Without any kind of warning, Poison quickly jumped down into the hole, landing a couple meters down with a solid thump . Ghoul followed quickly, muttering, “ There’s a ladder, you idiot, ” under its breath. 

 

Inside the tunnel, the silence was absolutely stifling, a huge contrast to the shouting and wind from above the ground. The walls were smooth and sandy coloured, though the tunnel felt a lot smaller than Ghoul had expected it to from the outside. 

There was still just about enough light from the entrance for now, but it was quickly dropping off more and more as the two kept walking. No one seemed to be following them yet, though Ghoul couldn’t guarantee that that wouldn’t change. 

As he kept walking, Ghoul swore that the walls and ceiling seemed to start pressing in a lot more, more than he would’ve expected from this sort of tunnel. 

There were many avenues and corridors going off the main one it and Poison were following, and none of them had any light down them. They were nearly in pitch black tunnel now.

“God, I really don’t like this,” Ghoul heard Poison say from in front of it somewhere. Their voice sounded like it was coming from behind a thick wall, though there was nothing but air between them. He suddenly became aware of all the particles of sand above and below him, only stopped from pushing in and suffocating the two of them with walls of sandstone. 

How deep down are we now? Ghoul wondered, though he really didn’t want to know the answer. The tunnel had been sloping slightly downwards ever since they had gotten in. 

 

Was this how it always felt, being underground? Was its next question, but he had no idea how to answer that. Had he ever been in a tunnel before? Ghoul didn’t think so. 

“Yeah, I hate it too,” it answered, far too late. The longer they walked the more cramped it was getting, the more thin, narrow tunnels were branching off in all different directions, even down into the ground. But none of them seemed to be going upwards.

“Ghoul,” Poison said, and at that moment he realised they were stopped right in front of him, not moving.

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t feel-”

Ghoul had to agree with the unspoken feelings Poison was feeling. This tunnel felt weird and scary and way too closed in, even if it had clearly brought them the safety of not being chased by angry killjoys. 

“I agree. Let’s head back, do you reckon? Those killjoys be damned.”

Ghoul saw Poison nod in the darkness, so it turned its back on them and started walking back where they came from. 

The only problem was, the passageway didn’t seem to be getting any wider or taller as they did, like it should have. Instead, the walls seemed to close in on Ghoul even further if he didn’t keep his eyes on them at all times. 

He took Poison’s hand, who was clearly getting scared at this point. “We’ll get out of here, it’ll be alright,” it comforted. 

That was when they had to start walking sideways to keep going. Ghoul just kept on pushing, hoping that whatever this sick trick or illusion from the darkness would go away if they just kept moving faster , maybe they’d somehow taken a wrong turn and just needed to get back to the main tunnel. 

But deep down, he knew they hadn’t taken any turns at all.

They were stooping now. Ghoul was doing his best to avoid grazing his head against the ceiling (again), and he knew how bad it must be for Poison if he needed to stoop down. God, what had they gotten themselves into? What was this deathtrap?

Thinking about it made Ghoul want to give up even more. There was clearly no logic or answer, not that it knew of, and the idea that this might be something that there was no answer too was very scary indeed. 

The walls kept pushing in, on all sides, until the tunnel was never going to be big enough for Ghoul to get through, let alone Poison. So it stopped, half leaning and half crouching in the tiny tunnel, ready to give up. When had it gotten so hot down here?

“What do we do now?” came Poison’s voice, weak and laced with despair. 

“I don’t know.”
“Why-”

“Let’s not even try to think about it,” Ghoul replied, sighing. There was no explanation at all that could explain why. Living through it was enough, wasn’t it?  

He was this close to just banging on the walls with his fists, knocking dust and sand off them, not stopping until something caved. Poison seemed to be thinking something along the same lines. 

“Maybe if we just tried to break the walls down, we’d be in a better way to get out?” 

Ghoul doubted it would work, but he didn’t have any other super convenient methods of getting out of this mess. 

“I mean, we could try.” He leaned back, as hard as it could against one wall, feet pressed against the other, and pushed, trying to straighten out his back and push the walls apart. It struggled and grunted and pushed harder than he ever had in his life, and it could see that Poison was too, but it didn’t make any difference. 

“Well, we tried,” Ghoul conceded, after a little while.

“But we can't just give up!” Poison said, their voice rising as they spoke. “What else are we gonna do, stay trapped down here forever?”

“We don’t have anything else to help us, though, and-”

“We have this?” Poison pulled out the small fossil bowl with their other hand, holding it up to Ghoul.

“Sure, but that’s just gonna break instantly- Look, if we can’t break these walls, which we clearly can't, how can the bowl help?”

Poison thought for a minute, considering what to say. Ghoul watched them, trying not to think of how utterly hopeless and sinister their situation was. Eventually, Poison shrugged.

“I don’t really know what it’ll do, but maybe if it breaks the shards can still help?”

How? Ghoul wanted to ask, but it knew Poison was trying as hard as they could, like it was, to stay positive and not think about the immediate problems they were facing. How long would there still be air in this tunnel?

Without warning, Poison struck the bowl into the wall of the cave, and it shattered in an instant. They cried out, the sharp pieces of ceramic hitting their hands and face, before landing on the very limited floor and on the killjoy’s clothes. 

All of the pieces of the bowl seemed to be tiny, much to Ghoul’s dismay. It hadn’t thought Poison’s plan would work, but it was still another thing when it actually didn’t-

They were still stuck. There was no way to keep going through the increasingly tiny tunnel, and shattered ceramic littered the floor and the two killjoys, forming little cuts on their skin. 

“Great,” Ghoul muttered under his breath, struggling not to feel overwhelmed. 

The space was so small , and there was no way out, everything was hopeless, and-

“Wait,” Poison said cautiously. “Are you seeing-”

Ghoul looked around wildly, searching for whatever Poison had found. There was nothing, just empty, darkened walls and floor and ceiling- 

Wait, Ghoul thought, its pulse quickening. Am I imagining this? In the dark, it looked like the tunnel was growing wider and taller again, more uniform. Ghoul reached out a hand to the wall opposite it; it was definitely further away than it had been before. 

He shot a look at Poison, who looked similarly confused. Why? was all Ghoul could think, but it didn’t matter. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said grimly.

 

-

 

-/-Basira, come on-

 

No, Jon! I can’t anymore, this can’t be good for you, and you aren’t even trying to st–/-

 

Kobra awoke with a flinch, hearing that the tape recorder had started playing something. Wait. Why was it here? It wasn’t the same type that always recorded him , no, this was one of the ones that was from Doctor D’s office. So how had it gotten here?

It had stopped now, thankfully. Had he been imagining it? Kobra couldn’t see a tape recorder anywhere… 

He must’ve been. Go back to sleep, Kobra, he thought to himself. There’s no need to get a bad night’s sleep just because you thought you heard a tape recorder.  

So he did.

 

-/-This isn’t my fault, Basira! I can’t just choose to stop listening to the tapes, I need to do it.

 

Oh, you know that isn’t true. Just look at Daisy, she’s managing alright!

 

Well, maybe I’m not as strong as her. Or maybe it’s pulled me in further.

 

Either way, I don’t really care, Jon! You’re literally feeding on people’s biggest fears, how are you content with that?

 

-

 

I’m not. But there’s really nothing else I can-

 

Not on with that again! Maybe you really are becoming a monster.

 

I’m still-

 

No, Jon. You’re not still the same. You know you’ve been changed in the last year or so, and you can’t even work to stop it.

 

I’m telling you, it doesn’t work like that!

 

Sure.-/-

 

Notes:

why do my plots always end up having characters in tunnels-

Chapter 10: In which Elias attends a meeting

Notes:

10th chapter woohoo! Yes there will be more completely making shit up in this chapter, but then again that's the whole job, so... (It's *entertaining* stuff being made up so that's all that matters, right?)

cws: light mentions of eye typical horror (eyes growing in the wrong kinds of places ya know), Elias Bouchard :/

-/- [in a muffled voice] Hello! Elias here, can you please let me in?

 

[in a far more distinct voice] Oh shit, he’s here already-

 

Do we just let him in? Didn’t Olivia have some kind of procedure for us to follow?

 

Yes, now let me take care of this.

 

[in a muffled voice] Hello? Is anyone in there? I’m here about some private business, if you could just let me in I would rather appreciate that-

 

[in a more distinct voice] Yes, hello Elias Bouchard. I believe you have come to the right place.

 

[in a muffled voice] Great! Now if you could just open that door and I could come inside…

 

[in a more distinct voice] I’m afraid I can’t quite do that yet, I’m under very specific orders, you see. If you would be willing to come around to the side, I would be more than able to share what must be done with you.

[in a muffled voice] Oh- Okay.

 

-

 

[in a very quiet voice, almost unhearable] Ah yes, Mr Bouchard, how… delightful it is to finally see you in person.

 

I could say the same to you. Can you escort me inside now, as the matters I know we both must discuss aren’t the sort that should be heard by passers by-

 

All in good time, all in good time. Would you like to hear something from the higher ups, Elias?

 

[after a moment] Sure. What do they have to say?

 

Let me whisper it into your ear, as you so well put it, it isn’t the sort of thing we want passers by to be overhearing. 

 

I suppose not. Go ahead.

 

They don’t trust you.

 

Sorry, what? Why not?

 

I don’t know, Elias. You don’t question higher ups when they tell you things, do they? I just have my instructions… 

 

Fine. Tell me nothing.

 

I’m sure you understand, it’s all policy, you see-

 

I understand perfectly.

 

Excellent. 

 

Anyways, now that we have your little B.T. power play over with, can we get onto the serious matters? I’m sure that your higher ups at least trust me into your building, where we can properly discuss-

 

Ah, I’m afraid that’s where we run into a problem, Mr Bouchard. You haven’t been permitted into the building until we make a, how shall we call it? A bargain, perhaps. A contract of sorts. 

 

A contract involving my sudden death and you inheriting my fortune and life’s work? I hope you would know better than to try something like that. For your own safety.

 

Ahahaha, nothing of the sort, Mr Bouchard. I’m afraid it is far more mundane than your usual negotiations. Just some paperwork, and you’ll be good to enter our building.

 

What’s the catch?

 

Oh, there’s nothing like that, isn’t that good! Here, let me get out the papers- [a rustling cuts off the conversation momentarily]

 

Here they are! Read them at your leisure, and sign on the last page when you’re done. You have a pen, I presume?

 

I do.

 

-

 

Is everything in order, Mr Bouchard?

 

Is this all? You want me to sign your contract to become the next deputy Director?

 

Yes, indeed! You don’t have any problems or worries, do you?

 

No, I just… Feel I am far more suited to the higher role, but I’m sure there will be some wiggle room.

 

Ahaha, you have always been quite a humorous man, haven’t you? You should be quite glad to be offered this position, you know, once everything goes down, I’m sure most people would kill for your place.

 

[after a pause] Yes, yes I’m sure they would. Very well, I’ll sign your contract.

 

Perfect.

 

-

 

[in a clear, distinct voice] Ah, hello, Mr Bouchard! It is great to meet you!

 

It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mr…?

 

Just call me Sprawl. And you have clearly met Sonya, good, good…

 

Yes, we have been in contact for months, with smaller updates on our situation here, but since we are coming closer and closer to our end game, Sonya thought it best for us to meet here, in person.

 

I couldn’t agree more with that plan. And here we all are, now!

 

Quite. Would you like something to drink, Mr Bouchard?

 

Yes, a cup of tea would be very nice, thank you.

 

-

 

Now, shall we get down to business?

 

Ah, Elias is very keen to begin right away, isn’t he? There’s no rush, Mr Bouchard, none at all.

 

-

 

Thank you, Sonya.

 

Yes, thank you.

 

No problem. If you are sufficiently settled, Mr Bouchard, let’s begin. So, how much longer are anticipating needing until Jonothan is sufficiently marked? Have you progressed since we last talked, after the pointless Unknowing ritual?

 

Yes, yes of course. You must have some faith in me, I have orchestrated this whole thing so far. As for how long, it’s hard to say… Possibly around a month? Jonathan has just set off on his trip to Ny-Ålesun, so it can’t be too long before he stumbles across the Dark Sun, even for him…

 

Excellent. Would you mind giving us a rundown of the last couple of months too then, just so the head office knows exactly how things are tracking?

 

If I must. So, as you know, Jonathan woke up after his coma quite a time after the Unknowing, unfortunately enough for us. 

But since then, he’s been rather on track, surprisingly so, even. I will admit, his encounter with the Slaughter was really quite timely, though not all coordinated by me. I rather doubt Melanie King would have any idea what kind of effect she had, and I don’t think she would care, now. 

But removing the bullet, that was… Maybe it is a shame Jonothan has to be used for this, after all. He has such a great mind for this…

 

Please get back on track, Mr Bouchard.

 

Are you not the man who just told me there is no rush? Let me tell the story as I want to, Sprawl.

 

Very well.

 

Well, after that stroke of luck, I must say my spirits were rather high when Jonothan had that little encounter with Jared Hopworth. I know we had all planned to have him arrive a little bit later, but he just never listens, does he? 

You must not be too harsh on me about the records, as I don’t have a strong clue as to what happened in the Distortion’s tunnels with Jared and Jonothan, though I know it must definitely have been strong enough for a mark. I believe it was something to do with a rib, possibly? 

Either way, the point is that it worked, and the plan was looking better and better as time went on.

And one thing led onto the next didn’t it? I’m sure I must have sent a record of all these events ages ago, but maybe you two weren’t high enough on the ladder to receive it, not anymore. 

I’m sure the higher ups will already understand these events, though, so I’ll make my explanation brief. Jonothan then, unwisely but perfectly in character, went into that ever useful coffin, after Tonner. I had spent hours trying to think of something to get him down there, and I was rather glad that all my effort worked. 

I must say, that was rather clever of Jonothan, that rib thing, wasn’t it? Not to mention knocking two birds down with one stone…

 

Is that all that has happened since we last spoke?

 

Roughly so, I guess. As I mentioned earlier, it’s only a short matter of time before Jonothan comes across the Dark sun, and then all we have to work with is the Lonely. 

I think Peter might come quite in handy with that one, as well as Martin, who I’ve kept running around the office since day one, poor fellow. But I guess he’s got a purpose now, doesn’t he?

 

Well, it seems that you are doing quite well on your side of the planning, as long as the Lonely marking happens in a timely manner.

 

Thank you. 

 

Shall we touch on what has to happen once Jonothan has been marked by all of the entities? I’m sure you have your own plans in mind, but I think B.T. would like to have a good deal of say in the planning too, before you go off all rogue like on your own? Hahaha…

 

Well, he’ll still be right in the Institute, won’t he? He’ll already be trapped, just like a fly in a web, pardon the pun.

 

Indeed. But, if anything goes wrong for a second-

 

Calm down, Sonya, I don’t think it will. How had can it be for Elias here to get Jonothan to-

 

I assure you, I have it covered. If need be, one of your people can come over and supervise, if they don’t see me as capable enough for the job.

 

Don’t be like that, Mr Bouchard. I’m sure you’re more than capable, after everything, but it might still be a good idea for you to have some… 

 

Babysitting?

 

I was going to say backup.

 

Of course. That would be… welcome, thank you.

 

Now, in the meantime, I know you have your own preparations to see to, but we have quite the mountain of tasks too. These might, on occasion, need your help if they are more in your location, so the head office has cleared us to discuss it with you, if it isn't too big of an ask?

 

Go ahead.

 

Well, we'll of course start with rounding up as many avatars as we can find, we will of course need everyone one of them under our control once the switch happens, and having allies will never be a bad thing. 

Head office doesn't really tell us many details before our assignments, but we're definitely thinking Derek Landseer, the Countess, all the usual people who we can count on.

 

And by count on, you mean people who are easy to threaten?

 

Indeed, Mr Bouchard, though don't think of yourself as above it! Oh, the things we could, potentially, do to you… If you weren't vital to the operation, of course…

 

Is everyone at B.T. as charming as you are, Sprawl?

 

Pretty much, wouldn't you say, Sonya?

 

I'd say even more charming, most of us. No need to compare our cunning minds to that of Sprawl’s, is there?

 

Hey, that's hardly-

 

Shut up and get back on with the plan.

 

Yes, please do, I'm getting sick of all this bickering, I do have places to be, you know-

 

Ooh, how fucking fancy, Mr Bouchard has places to be! I guess we shall continue on with the preparations then?

 

Yes.

 

Another vital part of the planning is for you to keep in touch with us. I cannot spread this enough, Mr Bouchard, we have many intricate pieces which will need moving, both physically and metaphorically, and therefore will need to be kept up to date. 

 

Naturally. Your correspondence will be kept in highest regard.

 

Thank you. We do, however, have protocol for what to do if things go off track and we have to leave the current residence at short notice, how to efficiently move the data we have been collecting for years and our other priceless things, though I don't see that as any of your concern.

 

What is important, however, as Sprawl is clearly not capable of mentioning, is that it is vital that you don't attempt to come here again after the switch. That will just create suspicion and possibly jeopardize our earlier stages of the operation, before we are fully stable in our new regime. Is this understood? 

 

Yes.

 

In the case of such events, you must not worry about the tapes, and therefore all our evidence of our plans, they will be taken care of as best they can be. 

If worst comes to worst, they will all be taken down into the tunnels below our building and left there, as no one is likely to find them there, and if they do, it'll be far too late for them to do much good with them. 

 

That is… good to hear. Is there anything else the two of you would like to discuss with me? 

 

You sound rather unenthusiastic, Mr Bouchard, is there something you would like to bring up, any worries in your mind?

 

No, not at all, just that I have another rather important meeting quite soon that I cannot be late to.

 

More important than the end of the world?

 

Ah, you must excuse her jokes, though I do pose the same question. Who is more important than this meeting right here?

 

No one you need to be concerned about. Just an old enemy who needs to be dealt with, some time or another, and now seems like a perfect chance.

 

Revenge, a noble pursuit. May I ask who it is?

 

No one you'd know, just a rather pesky friend of Jonothan's. 

Rather a nobody, but an avatar who barely knows himself, but unfortunately I have to hear his voice on half the underground radio channels in this country, so that seems as good a reason as any to eliminate him sooner rather than later. 

Also, I'm sure Jonothan will be devastated , how perfectly satisfying.

 

Oh, very much so, I'm sure. In which case, I don't think I have anything more to discuss with our distinguished guest, do you, Sprawl?

 

No, I don't think I do. Good day, Mr Bouchard, you may leave via the back door.

 

Thank you very much for your time.

 

Not at all, not at all… And remember, you have been legally sworn to secrecy with people outside our little circle, so act like it. 

 

What makes you think I wouldn't?

 

Nothing, just a precaution, is all. Still, a nice little reminder is never a bad thing, is it?

 

Good day, Sprawl, Sonya. I will be keeping in contact.

 

Good.

 

-

 

I think he must be well out of earshot now, right?

 

I would hope so, unless he's lurking outside the door like some kind of troublesome cockroach. Still, you can never be too careful, can you?

 

No, you can't, Sonya. 

 

-

 

I would say that meeting went quite well, all things considered. Did you-

 

Yes, but we'll get to that. Elias seemed very quick to sign off for the job, surprisingly so, even.

 

Shame he'll never be able to take it, in a way. 

 

Perhaps. Does make our jobs much less difficult, though, doesn't it? If all goes to plan, we'll never have to see slippery old Elias ever again, isn't that lucky? 

 

Yes, quite. 

 

He has been useful to B.T., of course, but all useful things lose their purpose eventually… If anything he wasn't quick enough to keep up with the world we do, though I'm sure he was brilliant enough in different ways. It's all for the higher good, isn't it?

 

Yes, yes it is. Goodbye, Elias, God knows you weren't ever going to get the future you fought for.

 

Right as always, Sonya.

 

Thank you.-/-

 

“Jet, can you hear that?” Kobra asked urgently.

“Hear what?”

“That- It's gone now, but just before, it sounded like people were talking? Very quietly, and it almost sounded like it was being re-”

Jet looked at him, confused. “I didn't hear anything.”

Kobra gestured in the air with his hands, trying to find the right words. 

“There were three people, I think they were talking about… They were talking about Jon!” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember more about what had been talked about. 

“And there was some other stuff, I think it was- Wait, Elias was there! Were they at B.T?” 

Jet looked over at Kobra, clearly not comprehending anything he said. “What's B.T.?” 

Kobra shifted. 

“I don't fully know, but I think it's the place where we found the box in the first place? Yeah, because just then those people were talking about hiding the tapes! I'm so confused, why would-

“Slow down, Kobes, I'm sure there's time to mull it all over later,” Jet said cautiously.

Kobra sighed. “Yeah, you’re right, there probably is.” 

He had so, so many questions, but he supposed they could be put further to the back of his mind, especially because that was exactly what the Eye didn’t want him doing.

“How are you feeling today, Jet?” Kobra asked her, trying to lighten the mood again. “Think you’re ready to leave tomorrow?” 

God, it was so soon that they would be leaving again. The stay in the hospital had felt like eternity, and Kobra was grateful to be going home again, but the sudden switch was always going to be a lot to deal with. 

“Yeah, I think I am,” Jet replied, smiling slightly. “If I’m honest, I feel a little trapped in here. But anyways, how’re you coping?”

Kobra thought about it. “I’m… actually doing really well, surprisingly.”

“That’s good,” Jet said without looking at him. “I’m really glad.”

“Wait,” Kobra said quickly, without any kind of end planned to the sentence. Why was he feeling better? Surely this wasn’t just some type of coincidence, and besides, he only ever really felt like this when-

“Jet,” he said slowly. “Did you have anything to do with the recording I know was playing earlier?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jet said, still not looking at him.

“Please, Jet,” Kobra said, his voice strained. “Did you play it? Did you get Poison or Ghoul to bring in some for you?”

“I…” Jet wavered. Eventually, she sighed. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wha-” Kobra didn’t know what to say.

“But please don’t be mad, I did it for you, genuinely,” she rushed on quickly. “You were so tired and down and I knew I could make you feel better, I didn’t mean to cause any harm, plus they were kind of interesting, so I just thought that- I’m sorry, Kobes.”

A thick silence hung in the air after this statement, not broken by either killjoy for a long moment. Kobra didn’t know how he was feeling. 

Taking deep breaths, he tried not to act too rashly, instead focusing on each individual conflicting thought he was having. He knew he felt frustrated, somewhere, though he wasn’t sure what about. Somehow, Kobra didn’t think he was frustrated at Jet, though he wished she hadn’t done it. 

Besides, she was right, he did feel better, more whole, somehow, now that he had heard another tape. That wasn’t Jet’s fault, of course it wasn’t, but Kobra found that blaming some kind of supernatural god/entity/fear/whatever it was didn’t really help make him feel better.

“I think-” Kobra choked out, trying to rationalize his thoughts, “I think I need to be outside for a bit.” 

“Yeah, ok,” Jet said quietly. “I really am sorry, but I don’t know what I can do to fix this, so…”

“No, I don’t think there’s anything any of us can do,” Kobra replied heavily. “This shit sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really does.”

 

Kobra paused, half way out of the room. 

“Can you pass me another recorder?” he asked with a resigned sigh. Silently, Jet handed him one, and Kobra walked out into the morning sun.

 

Outside,, he carefully sat down against one the boulders, pushing his feet out into the sand. He tried to feel as grounded as he could, trying to remind himself that he had control over the world, and that everything would be ok. 

It didn’t work very well.

What now? Kobra thought to himself. Do I just accept the fate I’ve clearly been given? Kobra didn’t believe in fate, not really. There was clearly no grand plan for his life, or if there had been, he’d clearly messed it up beyond recognition. Besides, fate was just a lie made for people who didn’t feel like they could deal with life themself. 

And while Kobra didn’t feel very confident in anything much, right now, he was stubborn. Not to mention completely unwilling to let two intangible entities have control over his life. 

Kobra paused, his hand hovering over the button on the tape recorder. On one hand, oh how badly he just wanted to give in, get the boost he felt from it, and then go and confront his real life again, pointlessly promising himself that tomorrow would be different. 

But on the other… 

Kobra hated being forced into doing stuff like this, he was stubborn and didn’t want anyone else to have more control over him than he did. Hm, Kobra though, realising this. I guess some things really do stick with you from your childhood.  

Kobra found he didn’t really have anything against that trait of his, though. It had kept him being himself , hadn’t it?

Sighing, he clicked on the button, giving in to the first option. Plus, maybe, if he was lucky, Kobra could find out more about whatever meeting was happening before. He’d tentatively come to the realisation that Elias was discussing some kind of Super Important plan with the people he’d been talking to in all those supplementals, except this time it was more important. 

They were getting close to something involving Jon, something that meant he had to be “marked” by each power, whatever that meant. As much as Kobra hated this Elias, he was incredibly glad he wasn’t in his position. 

The other two had seemed openly hating towards him, Kobra thought, and he clearly had a big role in whatever “plan” was being hatched. 

And the man who was always on the radio? Could that be- It might be far fetched, and most importantly, Doctor D was still alive, but was it possible that Elias had been referring to him? 

 

-/-Statement of Jeremiah Loch, regarding his new fear of x-ray machines. Original statement given May 31st, 2017. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

 

It’s quite a normal thing, isn’t it, to not like X rays? I mean, no one likes going to the hospital in general, and the fear of something being seriously wrong with your bones, like that’s enough to scare most people, or at least it should be. 

But what no one talks about is the vulnerability, being so truly exposed from your insides, having doctors inspecting your insides, as if they were the contents of a sandwich…-/- 

 

Kobra let the recording keep on playing, only half paying attention. He felt disappointed that it was just another normal statement, not some kind of secret insight into Elias’ meeting, or whatever Jon must have been up to. 

But it still satisfied Kobra, so he sat, half listening to Jeremiah's account of being surveyed and operated on, feeling the medical staff watching him constantly, evaluating him and keeping eyes on him. 

Kobra kept listening as Jeremiah recounted the first eye growing inside his ribcage, describing the sensation of it, and then the next and the next, until he was finally allowed to go home, fully monitored from inside. 

Maybe once upon a time, Kobra would have shuddered at that, turning it off as soon as it got to be too much. But now, he felt almost nothing, just the satisfying clearing of his mind and relaxing of his soul. 

He tried to ignore the fact that the statement was about the Eye, his own captor, and a poor man’s life being ruined because of it, of course he did. But when Kobra stood up again to walk back into the hospital, his legs were shaking and his heart was beating slightly faster. Am I going to become something like one of these doctors? He wondered, shuddering. The thought terrified him. 

Maybe it’s just my fate, Kobra thought bitterly.

Notes:

!!!! next chapter will have a lot more action I promise

Chapter 11: In which some very important things happen

Notes:

ok I promised action and here it is... I really really like this chapter and I hope you do to!

cws: brief brief brief mentions of drug abuse and recovery, it's like one vague sentence but I'll put it here just to be safe, dead bodies, blood, other body horror / the flesh kinds of stuff
stay safe!

Slowly, Kobra walked back through the doors of the hospital, calmed down and ready to go back inside. He didn’t exactly like the resignation he felt, but Kobra couldn’t deny that it made everything feel easier; there were less choices to be made, just the reality and what had to be done about it. 

Arriving back at Jet’s bed, Kobra smiled as he saw her looking up, waiting for him, a clear feeling of relief present on her face as she saw Kobra come back inside. 

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Jet asked nervously, tapping her fingertips on the bed sheets. 

“Yeah, no, I’m alright now, as far as these things go.” Kobra didn’t know quite how much of that was a lie, but he hadn’t intended it to be so. Still, Jet looked convinced. 

“That’s great! So, are you going to go back to reading statements all the time again now or am I going to have to force you to again?” 

Kobra sighed. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Besides, it could be useful, on the occasion.”

Jet hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess it might be.”

“Wanna go for a walk together?” Kobra offered. He knew Jet couldn’t get up and go somewhere without any supervision, and she hadn’t been outside all day, so he thought he’d offer before something else came up. 

Jet smiled gratefully. 

“Yeah, I’d like that, can’t stand having to go around to places with the nurses, they’re never as fun as you are.”

 

Together, they wandered the corridors out to the main lobby, which was unusually empty. The receptionist was the only other person in the room, and ae looked very small and somehow nervous. 

Kobra raised an eyebrow and made a mental note, though he knew he couldn’t just ask the receptionist why ae looked like ae were about to abandon aer job and flee to the outermost zones. 

Instead, he tried to lead Jet outside, but she was distracted by something else in turn. 

“What is…” Kobra trailed off, looking in the direction of Jet’s gaze. Oh.  

“What is that?” he then tried to ask, not quite comprehending the situation. Well, he knew it was a truck, and quite a large one at that, the kind you didn’t see in the zones often. They were too easy to see and target, not to mention too difficult to drive in sharp turns. 

This particular truck was dark red in colour, the paint clearly peeling in some places to reveal a slightly deeper shade of red, giving Kobra the illogical illusion of flesh. 

It was parked right out the front of the hospital, with no one moving around it, just its presence, standing there.

 

There was a logo on it too, Kobra realised, after staring at it for quite a while. It was a bone, maybe part of a ribcage, he thought, with blood dripping down it. There were still a few pieces of flesh on it that Kobra could see, unless that was just peeling paint too. 

Underneath this logo was the simple word Control , painted in all capitals, looking more and more sinister the more Kobra considered it. 

He looked briefly at Jet: clearly she was just as confused and creeped out as he was. 

“I think maybe we should postpone our walk,” Jet murmured, and Kobra agreed with a vehement nod of his head. 

Just as the two killjoys were about to walk back to their room, they saw someone emerge from the truck. They slid out and immediately went around the back, clearly opening up the storage area of the truck. 

Satisfied, they called to the other two people in the truck, who promptly got out. Kobra couldn’t see them very well through the frosted glass, and he didn’t dare go outside, not with their ominous looking truck. 

Quickly, he and Jet started back towards their part of their room, hoping the people from the truck wouldn’t attempt to come inside the hospital.

 

Back in his plastic chair by Jet’s bed, Kobra’s heart was still racing, thinking about the truck. Surely this wasn’t some kind of joke, but surely it wasn’t something Strange with a capital S either, it couldn’t be. 

Well… 

Clearly, things in the zones were weirder than Kobra had once thought, but that didn’t mean everything had to be weird and supernatural. Maybe it was just some injured zoners travelling in the only vehicle they had or could access, and Kobra was being unfairly harsh on them. He was no stranger to the concept of driving anything that would let him, just needing to get somewhere and being able to deal with whatever method it took. But then again…

No, it wouldn't make sense for the truck to be strange, there were still normal things in this world, just like there used to be, back before he knew about all this shit. Everything would be fine.

 

“ Fuck, ” Jet said under her breath, bringing Kobra back into the present. It didn’t take long for him to find what she was referring to. By the doorway to the room, all the way on the other side of the space from the two killjoys, came two people Kobra knew were from the truck. 

He didn't know how, but there was just something about them, something that felt slightly different, even… Kobra didn’t know how to explain it, but it felt like their skin didn’t sit quite right over their flesh, and it was paler and more translucent, somehow, than normal skin. Kobra could see so many veins visible underneath it, and sometimes, if he squinted, something that he thought might be bone. 

He didn’t dare speak, no one in the room did, as the two came through the doorway, revealing the third person who must have been standing in the corridor that whole time. 

They had this air about them, one of intimidation and violence, like shaky volcanoes poised to erupt. They walked through the room as a group, all looking directly ahead of themselves, at the off white wall at the other end of the room. 

They didn’t acknowledge anyone else, not even the one elderly zoner who screamed when the truck people had come into the room. They were wearing all grey uniforms, with a distinctive logo on the back, one that Kobra and all the other zoners knew too well. One that-

BLI, Kobra thought, recognizing it. What the fuck are they doing here? And more importantly, why aren’t they shooting already? For the first time since Jet had been admitted to the hospital, Kobra reflexively reached down to his belt for his ray gun, before realising it wasn’t there. 

It was at home at the diner, along with Jet’s; the hospital obviously hadn’t let their guns in. 

 

Even with this motion, however, the people, if you could call them that, didn’t look Kobra’s way. They kept walking through the room, to the corridor after it, the one that led deeper and deeper into the building. Kobra wondered what was through there, for the first time. 

He’d always just assumed that it was more rooms like theirs, or maybe offices or private rooms, but now the corridor had a much more sinister light. 

The three BLI workers had now disappeared into the corridor, but no one in the ward dared move an inch, just glancing at each other briefly, as if they were scared that even the smallest movement would make them targets. 

Kobra stared at Jet, considering all the possibilities that were now rushing through his head. Were these workers also avatars? Surely they weren’t, it was too much of a coincidence, just now that Kobra had come to terms with being an avatar himself. It would all be too much of a coincidence, unless… 

Well, it wasn’t exactly clear that there was something out of this world wrong with them, it wasn’t too easy to spot the slight differences in the way their flesh was sculpted, the blood between and on their teeth when they opened their mouths, not obvious enough that Kobra couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly made him suspect. 

But if it was that vague, maybe these things had been happening always, and he had just never been aware of it? 

But if that was the case, there were clearly bigger problems. The uniforms, for one thing… Kobra knew that no matter what was happening, it couldn’t be good. 

Jet, sitting up to the side of him, was looking just as alarmed as Kobra felt, which told him that she had likely connected these things too, or at least was thinking about them. 

Kobra still didn’t know whether it was something that could be connected, or if it made any sense to. And either way, even if he was right, why the fuck were avatars working for BLI? That, at least, didn’t make any sense. 

 

It felt like a collective breath was let in by everyone in the ward as the workers came back in, their shadows trailing ominously behind them. But that wasn’t the thing that bothered Kobra, that scared him to the core, that made all of this feel realer than it ever had. 

It was the bodies they were carrying, the ones with arms missing, some with blood stuck to their torsos, like it had come out and dried up, the occupants of the body never being able to clean it before they had passed away. It was the teeth, knocked loose in some of the bodies’ mouths, clattering quietly with each step the BLI workers took. 

It was the way that when Kobra looked over towards the nurses and doctors still in the room, they looked perfectly calm, shooting apologetic looks towards the patients closest to them as the BLI uniformed workers silently marched out of the room, leaving the smell of blood and decay lingering in the room.

As soon as the three workers had left the room, everyone inside it started bursting into shouts or hushed chatter. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Were those… That was real, right? I didn’t just imagine that all, somehow?”

Only the nurses were left sitting silently, one or two of them biting their lips, before addressing the whole room.

“I’m very sorry you all had to witness that,” one of them started, though no one was particularly listening. “It won’t be happening again for quite a while, luckily, but you guys had to draw the short straw, I guess.”

“If there was anything that coulda been done, I assure you it would’ve,” a doctor added too. “Unfortunately we’re under a contract, kinda, here and things would get a lot worse if we tried to intervene.”

A contract of what? Kobra thought. A contract which lets BLI take all the dead fucking bodies in the hospital? What the fuck?  

“Please settle down again, everyone!” the first nurse called out to the ward, settling the pandemonium of talking that every patient had been engaged in. 

Kobra looked at Jet; she shook her head, understanding what Kobra was thinking. They needed to get out of here. 

“Just follow my lead,” Jet whispered to Kobra, and he nodded mutely. 

“Oh, excuse me!” Jet said, now at full volume to the nurse who was closest to them. 

“I think my crew are probably visiting about now, and it’s been a while since they were here, I think it would be best if I went and found them.”

The nurse did not look at all convinced by this, something that Kobra knew wasn’t helped by the fact that xe had probably seen Poison and Ghoul here not two days ago. 

“I can go see if they’re here,” the nurse said firmly, countering Jet’s statement. “What are their names?” 

“Oh, yeah, they don’t give out their names, really,” Jet said quickly. This wasn’t too unusual in the zones, especially for zoners who had had bad betrayals ending in run-ins with crows in the past. 

“Yeah, it’ll be a lot easier if we just go and get them,” Kobra jumped in. “I’ll go with her to make sure that everything’s safe and that she doesn’t feel too dizzy again.” Jet shot him a withering glare at this, which Kobra figured was fair enough. 

He knew she didn’t like to be treated like she was sick, especially because she wasn’t even, not anymore, but Kobra thought that the chances of the nurse letting Jet go alone were slim. It looked like he had been right.

“Well,” said the nurse reluctantly, turning xyr head to look around at the rest of the ward, “I really should stay here and make sure everyone is feeling ok, especially after all that- ” Kobra knew xe was talking about the whole dead body pick up; he could still see it when he closed his eyes. 

“But it’s quite a long way, isn’t it? I can get Electro to go with you, though-”

Jet rolled her eyes subtly. “It’s just a couple corridors, I’m sure I can manage, especially with Kobra here to help me out.” She looked sharply back at Kobra, who smiled at her teasingly.

“I mean, if you’re sure…” the nurse said, xyr voice wavering, but Kobra cut xem off. 

“We are.” And with that they were off, though the nurse insisted Jet bring the wheelchair, “just in case” she got too dizzy to walk or even stand again. 

The corridors were deserted the whole way back to the lobby, but when Kobra concentrated, he was sure he could smell the faint smell of blood, as if the workers had trailed the bodies along the carpet behind them, something that made Kobra feel vaguely sick to think about. 

No, everything was going very smoothly, up until they got right to the entrance of the lobby, when doubts started to hit Kobra. 

“How do we know we’re gonna be able to get out of here?” he asked Jet.

She smirked. “We don’t, but what other choice do we get? Stay here with the insane people who let avatars take their dead?” 

“Fair point.”

“Yeah, I say we just go calmly, and if anyone questions us, we can just say we’ve been discharged. It’s not like they’re gonna check in that crazy clunky catalogue, and if they do it’s pretty easy to say it’s just been done wrong.”

“Ok fine, you’ve convinced me,” Kobra replied. After all, what did they have to lose? 

Quickly, Jet wheeled herself into the lobby, discreetly parking the wheelchair by the door before getting up out of it and starting to cross the room. 

Gathering his courage, Kobra followed soon after, not making eye contact with anyone. Their plan was working well for a time, so well that Kobra thought they’d get out completely unquestioned, right up until a doctor walked right in front of them hurriedly, completely walking into them. 

“Very sorry about that,” she murmured at first, not even looking up from the file notes she was reading. 

“That’s ok,” Jet said distractedly, still focused on the exit almost solely, but at the sound of Jet’s voice, the doctor looked up, and stopped in her tracks. Jet froze, leaving Kobra to pause as well. 

“Is that you, Jet?” the doctor said curiously. “Aren’t you only leaving tomorrow?” 

“Oh, uh,” Jet stalled, sounding slightly guilty, “No, I’ve been cleared to leave now.” By the exit to the hospital, a man with long, gingerish hair walked in and approached the receptionist. 

“Oh is that so? I trust you’ve spoken to Galleon then, already?”

Jet glanced quickly at Kobra, who shrugged back, wishing he had an answer. 

“Galleon?” Jet asked. 

“The receptionist, dear,” the doctor answered, frowning. “For the paperwork that just says that you’re alright and aren’t under our care anymore.”

Oh. Behind them, the man who had just walked in was still talking to the receptionist, whose name was apparently Galleon. The man’s voice sounded slightly familiar to Kobra, but he just couldn’t place it-

“Yes, yes we’ve done that,” Kobra said quickly. “Ae didn’t tell us aer name, is all-” 

“Ok, well, let me just go check that the papers have gone through, and you can be right on your way,” the doctor said, smiling. She led them over to Galleon’s desk, leaving them to stand a short way away as she saw that Galleon was already talking to someone else. 

“Are you sure that everyone is alright?” the man with the ginger hair said to Galleon. 

“I can’t imagine I would be, if it was my first time around something like that…”

Kobra looked over at Jet, who was clearly piecing something together in her own mind. Had this man with the familiar voice come in here and started talking about the avatars? 

Kobra drew the lines immediately, though he knew a number of things could be happening in this conversation. Before he could wonder much longer, the doctor cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the ginger man and Galleon. 

“Is everything alright?” the ginger man asked them, and Jet let out an audible gasp. God, where had he heard that voice? It felt like someone Kobra had known from his childhood, someone he knew very well, and yet hadn’t seen in quite some time. 

“Yes, everything is alright, I’d just like to check up on the departure files on Jet here,” the doctor cut in. Galleon nodded once and then started typing on the clattery old keyboard that was attached to an even older looking computer. 

“I can come back maybe later today?” the ginger man said to aer, and suddenly everything clicked for Kobra. 

 

What the actual fuck? he thought, so clearly he almost thought he said it out loud for a second. He felt so stunned, like everything was suddenly colliding and he was caught in the middle of it. 

Vaguely, Kobra could hear Galleon saying something like no, it’ll just take a second, don’t worry, but it felt like his ears had been covered over. 

“ Martin? ” Kobra blurted out, before he could stop himself. 

The ginger man flinched very suddenly, and Kobra knew that thoughts must be flooding through his head as quickly as they were through Kobra’s. Jet shot Kobra a look, confused and yet understanding, but Kobra couldn’t do anything but just stare at the ginger man. 

Eventually, he stretched slightly, an expression of concern growing over his face. 

“I think you two had better come with me,” possibly-Martin said in a low voice. The doctor who had gotten Kobra and Jet into this whole situation frowned, but didn’t say anything. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the paperwork gets done later,” possibly-Martin said to her, already leading Kobra and Jet towards the door.

“Get in, get in,” he said quickly, gesturing to the beaten up red ute that was parked in the hospital car park. “I think we need to have a long conversation.” 

Silently, Kobra slid into the passenger seat, leaving Jet to get in the back. Within another second, possibly-Martin had started the engine and turned sharply back onto the road. 

“Ok, how the fuck did you know my name?” Martin said to Kobra. “Just tell me it wasn’t something to do with tape recorders…”

“Um,” Kobra said awkwardly. “It was, actually?” 

Martin sighed. “Well, I suppose that was really the only way you could’ve, I haven’t told anyone my name was Martin in about twenty years now. I’m just Nine Volt Silence now, but I guess for simplicity’s sake, you guys can call me Martin.”

“Ok, cool,” Kobra said, now not being able to ask any questions after needing to for so long. “Wait, Jet, did you know Martin as well? How?” She had almost been just as shocked to see him as Kobra had been, so what was the reason?

“Nothing, he just saved me from death, once, I think?” Jet said weakly. “If I’m honest, I don’t really know what happened, though it must’ve been an avatar, now that I think about it.”

“Yeah,” Martin confirmed. “Seen a couple of those stranger avatars floating around the zones, praying on people who don’t know better.” 

Kobra looked back towards Jet curiously. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?” he asked. 

Jet laughed without any humour. “It’s not like I knew I had just somehow bumped into one of the weird mysterious people in your spooky obsession, did I? Besides, I had other things on my mind, at the time.” Jet went quiet, and Kobra knew what she meant. The recovery alone hadn’t been easy on her, let alone before that. 

“Anyways, I guess we’re all here now,” Jet continued tiredly. 

“Welcome to the party, guys,” Martin said sarcastically. “I’ve been here for over twenty years.” He sighed. “Anyways, any questions you guys have, I can take a shot at answering, because I’m sure you have tons.” 

“Yeah, I definitely do,” Kobra and Jet both said, nearly at the exact same time.

“Yep, figured,” Martin replied. “Can’t just get to be an avatar in today’s world without a few. But first, where are we going? I’ve just been driving mostly in circles for the past ten minutes, so some direction would be great.”

“Zone 4, please.”

Martin nodded. “And do you guys have any more people you live with? Because I think if you do it might be time for a lot of explaining.” 

Notes:

OK WE'RE FINALLY HERE GUYS BEEN SORT OF BUILDING TO THIS FOR A WHILE NOW, I LOVE HOW THINGS JUST KIND OF CULMINATE IN THIS CHAPTER
If I had to guess I'd say that the next chapter is gonna start to sort of build up to the beginning of the end, we're not near the end at all yet though, of course

also I love using neopronouns for random characters, they're genuinely so fun to write <3

Chapter 12: In which we can all chill out (after a while)

Notes:

This fic is back!!! I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to be switching to fortnightly updates however, cause I burned myself out pretty hard after a while with weekly ones, but we'll see what happens and I really hope you enjoy this chapter (even if it's been like 2 months T-T)

cws: mentions of blood, the hunt related themes

The rest of the drive home was silent, after names and basic details were exchanged, aside from the occasional start or confused half sentence from Kobra, before he stopped abruptly as if the answer was obvious and had been the whole time. Jet found that as far as things went, she didn't really care what he was muttering about. 

Not right now, at least. She was out of the hospital, finally, and she was in a car, and she was also going home to the rest of her family, who, Jet realised, she hadn't even comprehended how much she had missed before now. Ghoul and Party are at home and I'm gonna see them again soon! she couldn't stop thinking, though she'd seen them only days ago. 

It was weird, Jet thought, had she always been so attached to them all? In the beginning, did she worry about being away from them all for too long just in case they got hurt, or had it only come in the past few years? Adding in all the avatar stuff, all Jet knew was that her head hurt dimly trying to think about it all too much. Besides, she didn't need to have a conclusion, not yet, at least. She wanted to see Ghoul and Poison and soon she would get to, and that was that. 

Destroya, I'm exhausted, Jet thought, yawning. As if on cue, Kobra yawned right after her, though he tried to hide it. They had been driving for a long time now, and while Jet and Kobra were clearly starting to drift off, Martin had made no motion to suggest he was starting to tire, he just kept driving, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were going white.

Jet idly watched his face in the car mirror; his eyes looked focused and yet bored, like he was thinking about something else other than driving entirely. 

As Jet watched, Martin bit his lip slightly, clearly thinking something over. Suddenly, Jet realised that it must have been just as odd for Martin to see them and for them to call him by that name as it was for Kobra and Jet to see him. It's been a weird day all round, Jet thought wryly. 

 

“Guys, I don't want you to be alarmed, but I think we're being followed.” Jet jolted awake at these words, and an immediate feeling of panic settled deep down into her stomach. She turned her head towards the front seats to see that Kobra had clearly just been woken up too, and was rubbing his eyes and shaking out his hair.

“By who?” Jet asked blearily.

“By BLI,” Martin clarified helpfully, though it really didn't make the situation any better. “Just a couple draws though, the little fuckers.”

Jet looked out of the back window of Martin's car, and a quick look told her that he had been right. There was just one car, maybe fifty or so meters away, following at a pace some might mistake for idle, though Jet knew better. 

“Can we speed up, maybe?” Jet's voice rose as she said the words, and the full realization of the situation weighed down on her like a heavy blanket.

“We don't have our guns, either, the hospital wouldn't let us keep them, obviously, but they're at home-”

She and Martin exchanged a stricken glance through the car mirror. For a second, Martin frowned deeply, before replying.

“I think mine's in the boot, I didn't think we'd need it, of course I didn't expect to be traveling this far either, but I should have prepared better. Also,” he added, “I have been speeding up, this whole time, they've just been keeping the pace. Old Sasha doesn't go much faster than this anymore, either way.”

Kobra let out a choked splutter from the front seat. “You named your car Sasha? Why the fuck would you-” Kobra rolled his eyes, though he was clearly half laughing.

“I guess you could say I've grown sentimental, in my old age, ” Martin quipped back. “Besides, we could all do with a friendly name at the start, couldn't we?

“True.” 

Even without being able to see his face, she knew Kobra was thinking about something, wondering something, though he didn't ask about it. Instead, he took a quick glance back at the dracs tailing them and then nodded. “How much faster can the car go?” 

Martin sucked the air through his teeth. “Not much, but-”

“Yep, sounds like a good idea.” 

The engine revved suddenly, and now they were going at full speed for the old red car, Sasha, hoping desperately that it would be enough to get themselves put of this night time death trap firefight before it properly started. 

After a nervous minute, Jet looked back again, and saw with a sinking in her chest that the car was still right there, tailing them lazily. If anything, it was gaining on them. 

“Shit,” Martin cursed.

In fact, it definitely was speeding up too, because now Jet could see the dracs inside the car, their hair matted and their skin peeling, but the worst part was their eyes. Their eyes shone in the darkness, reflecting back the lights of Martin's car, and there was a dull red quality to them. It made Jet sickeningly think of an apex predator, a wolf, a wild hyena, stalking its prey in the night, out for blood.

 

“Shit,” she echoed quietly.

“It's ok, I reckon I can try to-” Martin's sentence was cut off as he hit a hard curve with a screech of the wheels. 

The road behind and around them was lit up with a sickly, ominous red, like dried blood, the white lights of Martin's car not doing enough to dispel the redness, just washing it out to a faint, fleshy pink. Jet could see clearly in the rear view mirror that the car was gaining on them, and would continue to do so, given that Sasha was pushing its fastest speed, sputtering and coughing as it did so. 

“What're we going to do?” Jet asked Martin, trying to keep the panic from her voice; it was clear that Martin was wrapped up in the situation too much already. 

“I'm not sure,” he replied in a hushed voice, and Jet could see that his knuckles were turning white from the tightness of his grip on the steering wheel. Martin desperately tried to push the acceleration pedal down further and further, but nothing happened. This was the end of the road for them.

The patrol car was many a few meters away from the killjoys now, the dracs inside had their eyes locked directly on their target. Oddly, Jet noticed, they hadn't even made any effort to start shooting at their car, or done anything to suggest that they were going to hurt the three killjoys in any way.

It was almost like the dracs had just been invested in the chase, not caring what happened at the other end. 

Martin kept driving more and more recklessly, taking the sharpest turns he could, drifting and kicking up sand for meters around, but nothing could lose the dracs. We need to get our blasters, Jet thought over and over again, but there was no way to do that from inside the car. 

As Martin wove Sasha around and through a scattering of tall, upright boulders nearly two hundred meters off the road, the red lights around them grew brighter, shining off the rocks and wing mirrors. 

Jet could see the dracs inside the patrol car grinning now, with a grin that made Jet feel slightly sick inside. Their teeth were showing, sharp and industrial metal grey in the dim light. Jet thought she could make out their tongues, if she tried, but the slithering crawling piece of red flesh disturbed her more than she wanted to let on. 

No, the worst thing about that identical smile each of the dracs had on was the happiness to them. Jet had never seen dracs show emotion before, really ever, just a grim seriousness and blankness to their faces. But this was different, so completely, utterly different, like they knew exactly what they were doing and savouring the idea of catching them, like spiders and flies. The only difference was, Jet knew for sure that they weren't anticipating some grand important moment; they were just chasing the car for the pure thrill of it.

Everyone inside Sasha was panicking now, a loud babble of chatter breaking out nervously inside, the three voices clashing and speaking over each other. 

“The only chance we have is to go and get our blasters,” Jey found herself saying over and over. “See, they haven't been trying to shoot at us, I think we have a chance!” Kobra looked at her curiously.

“You sure? They've just been chasing, not even trying to shoot?” 

“No, I swear they haven't, it's the weirdest thing.”

“There's not a chance I'm stopping this car to let you two out to get yourself killed!” Martin intercepted. “It's a suicide mission, just let me take care of this.” 

“How?” Jet demanded, trying not to sound accusatory when she was really just stressed.

“I don't know, I'll figure something out, throw ‘em for a loop.”

 

With that, he started driving the car around in a sharp, tight circle, starting to spiral onwards, but if anything, the dracs just got closer and closer to the back of Sasha. The drac in the passenger seat had a pair of binoculars that were trained right on the back of Martin's head, and the other also had an intense focus on the car, almost as if…

“The hunt,” Kobra breathed, and it was barely loud enough to hear through the chase, but Jet's thoughts echoed the two words jarringly. 

Could they really be in another encounter with these monsters already, the last one at the hospital still so fresh in Jet's mind? Was this really how things always had been? 

“Sorry, what?” Martin asked Kobra, in a tone that suggested that he didn't quite hear what Kobra had said. It certainly was true that the patrol car didn't seem very interested in actually capturing the killjoys, just chasing them. 

“The hunt,” Kobra said again, over enunciating his words. Martin's mouth opened in recognition.

“Fuck, I didn't think to look at them properly, the rush of it all-” He shook his head. “Yeah, they tend to follow you more if you're an avatar, I've learned.” 

Huh, that's interesting, Jey thought numbly. And actually makes a lot of sense.

“Well, what do we do then?” She knew that the revelation that the dracs were serving the hunt was useful, but she still didn't have any ideas of what to do.

“Wait. Stop the car, right here. If we stop running, they'll have to stop hunting, right?” Kobra looked over at Martin, who made eye contact with him for a brief second before stopping with a loud screech of the tires. 

In the next minute or so, nothing and no one moved. The red light bathed everything, even giving the moon a dull red sheen, reflecting through the layer of radiation pollution in the atmosphere. Jet could still hear the engine of the patrol car behind them, purring regularly like a sleeping large cat, but she didn't dare look back at it. 

Apparently, Kobra and Martin didn't either, not daring to look back towards Jet or glancing at each other either. 

After the longest moments of Jet’s life, the patrol car with the dracs in it slowly reversed, did a quick turn and drove off back into the night. Only then did Jet dare to turn around, and as the cat got further and further away, she swore she could see the deep red of its headlights turn into a more washed out pink before finally turning their normal, glaring white again. 

It took a few minutes before Jet was breathing normally again, and neither of the killjoys in the front seats sounded like they were perfectly okay right after the patrol car drove away either. Kobra painted slightly, trying to pass it off as coughing, and adjusted his binder with a wince. Martin just flexed his calloused fingers out one by one, trying to release the tension from them. It didn't look like it was working.

“Does it ever- get easier?” Kobra questioned him with a shaky voice. 

Martin sighed. “No, but after a while you start to feel a little more numb, so I guess that counts for something.”

“Maybe.”

As Sasha started rolling back onto the final stretch of road to the diner, the three killjoys stayed quiet, and Jet could have sworn she saw faint tire tracks of blood trailing alone the road, leading ahead.

 

-

 

The first thing Kobra saw as he walked into the diner was Poison’s face standing right through the doorway looking at him.

“What the fuck are you guys doing back here?” the asked, frowning. “You didn’t even have a car, how-” Poison looked over Kobra’s shoulder briefly, and Kobra realised that they must be seeing Martin and Sasha. 

“Who’s this guy?” 

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Kobra said, sighing. “And I’ll explain it as soon as I can sit down and get a cup of tea.” 

“Okay, I guess that’s fair enough,” Poison replied, though they still sounded wary. “And Jet’s there too, right?”

“Hey Poison!” Jet greeted them as a way of answering the question, sounding weary. “Yep, I’m here too, couldn’t exactly stay in the hospital, could I?”

Poison looked confused at this, and suddenly the weight of everything that Kobra knew he’d have to explain was really settling in.

“Yeah, it’s quite the story,” Kobra added, facing Poison.

“What, should I invite the whole gang over?” they joked, smiling, but their smile was quickly erased by the serious look on Kobra’s face. 

Poison sighed. “I’ll go send a broadcast to them. How about you go make tea for yourself, Jet and whoever this other guy is? I assume he’s staying too?”

Kobra nodded.

 

Once the Fabulous Four, Doctor D, Cherri, Show Pony and Martin were all gathered around the table, Kobra’s chipped mug was half empty and gently cold. He didn’t even know where to start. 

“So, what’s all this about?” Party Poison prompted, stretching out in their corner of the booth. “You can’t just keep us hanging, man.” They smiled. 

Kobra looked at Martin, who nodded. Just start from the start, the nod seemed to say.

“So, you know the tape recorders I’ve been listening to, well, a lot …” Kobra started, trailing off.

“Yeah, I think we’re all vaguely aware,” Show interjected snidely, though with no malice in aer tone.

“Well, they have statements of people telling their stories to this place called the Magnus Institute, which was a place in the world before all this, of course. But a lot of the time, the people who work at the Magnus institute are in them too, and this is one of them.” Kobra gestured towards Martin.

“His name’s Nine Volt Silence, by the way.” 

Poison nodded at Martin. 

“And then there’s the bigger thing I have to explain, and it’s the reason that me and Jet left the hospital, and definitely part of the reason Jet had to be there in the first place. You see…” Kobra talked for nearly an hour, he would have guessed, filling in everyone about all the fear stuff, the avatar thing, what happened at the hospital and on their way home. At this, Poison looked at him curiously, then turned to Ghoul.

“Do you know anything about cursed bowls?” they asked Kobra, who blinked back, not understanding.

“Wait, what happened?”

“Basically, the other day we were at the market, trying to get a welcome home present for you, Jet, but Poison did some dumb shit and we ended up in the tunnels under Thistle, and as it turned out the bowl was making the tunnels narrower and deeper and shit,” Ghoul explained.

“The- The buried?” Kobra guessed, though he was still wrapping his head around all fourteen of the fears and how they manifested. “If so, I can’t believe you ran into an item like that, neither of you are even avatars. To the best of my knowledge-” He suddenly looked stricken. “You aren’t, right?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Phew.”

The killjoys sat around the table in silence for a little while, letting everything sink in. Show Pony kept looking across the table at Kobra as if ae thought that he had been joking the whole time, making a face that suggested okay, haha, joke’s over and wasn’t that funny in the first place, but Kobra just stared back blankly until ae was forced to talk.

“So like… you’re being 100% genuine?” Show Pony asked, only slightly sarcastically. “And we’re all supposed to believe it?”

Kobra looked at aer, confused. “What, do you need proof, or something?”

Slowly, ae nodded, though Kobra could tell it wasn’t because ae needed convincing, but rather because they wanted to see what Kobra would offer them. 

“You can have this tape, if you want, I’m done with it. I guess that’s about as much proof as there concretely is.”

“How do I know that you didn't just record this one to trick us?” Show shot back.

“Well, do you know anyone with this voice that I could have gotten to record it?” There was a pause. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Kobra cleared his throat. “So, we’re all clear on this, somewhat, right now?” As he looked around the table, he could see Poison and Ghoul nodding solemnly, probably just glad to have some kind of understanding of what happened in the cave; Show didn’t look convinced, but Doctor D and Cherry exchanged a grim glance that suggested they understood, possibly more than Kobra  could explain. What was up with that? But nobody seemed keen to interrupt or ask another question, so he didn’t think about it too hard.

“So I guess that’s it,” Kobra said absentmindedly, wondering if he’d left anything out. Suddenly, a question struck him. 

“Wait, Nine Volt,” he started, turning towards Martin. “You knew someone called Elias, right? And of course you knew Jon,” - Kobra tried not to notice the wince Martin made as he said that - “So does that mean that you know more about what happened in that recording with Elias and BT?”

Martin looked confused. “Huh? How’d that get in there with Jon’s tapes? But no, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sounded genuine. 

“Well, you have to at least have some kind of idea,” Kobra replied, the gears in his brain turning. “I mean, Jon’s not here with you now, is he?”

Again, another wince from Martin; Kobra almost felt bad, though the question had left him before he could even think about it.

“No, he’s not. He’s in Battery City.”

“What?” Kobra was confused. “Why? The BT research center we found the tapes in was out in zone 2, not in Battery City.” Then something clicked in his brain.

“Wait… Did BT…?”

Martin shook his head sadly. “Yeah, surprisingly few people know the name BLI was before it became BLI.”

“Fuck.” That was Poison.

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t know what kind of recording you heard, but Elias had been working with BLI, marking Jon with each of the fears, timing to start an apocalypse, in which BLI could take control.”

“When did this happen?” Kobra had to ask.

“Over 20 years ago, now.”

Kobra paused. “But how could BLI take control in an apocalypse? What kind of apocalypse? But we aren’t in an apocalypse now, are we? I don’t understand…” He hoped he didn’t sound quite as confused as he felt.

Martin sighed. “Well, first of all, we are still in the apocalypse now, it’s just…. Better contained, than it was at the start. Yeah, I still remember the days when I wouldn’t see people manipulated by the Dreads every other day, but trust me, the start was pretty fucked up. And well, what kind of a better time is there to take complete control over a chunk of the world than when the entire world is scared and needs your help? Of course, BLI was also controlling almost all the domains, fears and avatars when it started, so of course the help wasn’t really that good in the end, but of course no one knows that.”

“I… don’t think I can process all of that,” Kobra said, his head reeling in all the thoughts he was having. “So.. there was a time with no avatars and no fears?”

Martin shook his head. “There were just less, and less monsters roaming around. They were more scared back in the day. Less in control.”

“I just have one more question for now, I think,” Kobra continued slowly, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his exposed knee through a rip in his jeans. “How was Jon involved with this, aside from being the Archivist?”

“He…” Martin paused, and Kobra could practically feel the waves of complicated emotion rolling off him. “They just took him there, I’m not really sure for what purpose, all I know is that he was important to them, but it can’t be good.”

“Yeah.” 

Martin stood up quickly, shaking out his jacket and shirt. 

“I think I’d best be going,” he said to Kobra. “I’ll see you all around, hey?”

There were murmurs of agreement and assent from the killjoys still sitting at the table, and Kobra joined in with these, but he stood up. He followed Martin out of the diner and onto the road outside where Sasha was parked. 

“When do you reckon you’ll be back?” Kobra asked, unable to contain himself. “It’s been incredible meeting you, but there’s so much more to be done, isn’t there?”

Martin didn’t reply for a while. “You can never do everything,” he said sadly, after a long pause. “You can never help anyone.”

“But we have to try, don’t we?”

Martin didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll see you around, Kobra Kid.” And with that, Martin slid a hand into his jacket pocket and took out an incredibly familiar looking cassette player, one that was identical to all the ones in the box. “I’ve had this on me for a long time, looking for answers, but I reckon you should have it. Without Jon, you’re the real Archivist around here.” Martin tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Thank you,” Kobra said numbly, not knowing what else to say.

“See ya.” Martin got into his car, turning on the engine in one fluid motion. The next second, he had hit the acceleration pedal and was gone.

Notes:

Oh aren't they gonna find out...

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