cassidyafton

[cassidyafton]

REIMAGINATION: CHAPTER 9

Summary: A dark reinterpretation of the events of the Mr. Hopp's Playhouse series.

Chapter summary: Esther encounters someone- and something- bizarre, while searching for Molly.

"Dessie?"

"Hm?" Desdemona looked up from where she sat on a small stool in the hallway, smiling at Esther as she continued to pick lint out of her doll's yarn hair. "Have you found Molly yet? Really, I think she ought to apologize to you for putting you through all this trouble."

"No, no, it's not that." Esther hadn't found Molly yet, but she wasn't yet ready to admit that. "I had a different question."

"Alright." She set down her doll. "What's up?"

"What you said at breakfast," Esther started nervously. "Did you really mean it?"

"Of course I did." She smiled and reached out to pinch Mr. Hopp's cheeks. "I believe you. Mr. Hopp and I always will. That's what friends are for, isn't it?"

"Not..." Esther trailed off and smiled softly. "Thanks, but... not about that."

"Then what?"

"The... evil in this house. You really believe there's something here with us?"

Dessie sighed, removing her hand from Mr. Hopp's plastic face, and picked her doll up again.

"Of course I do, Esthie. Something whispers his name at night. You hear it, don't you? He wants us to say his name. To summon him."

"What's its name?"

Desdemona tugged at another piece of lint- the unfortunate consequence of leaving her doll on the floor of the bedroom. "Bael."

A chill ran down Esther's spine.

"You were out last night," Desdemona said. "Did you hear him then?"

"I..." Esther shook her head, a bit embarrassed to admit it. "I didn't. But I saw something in a book. It had left a book open to its name. And I- I said it."

Desdemona nodded grimly. "That's what he wants. I don't know why."

"You think it wants to hurt us?" Esther asked.

"I think he wants to make us hurt each other." Desdemona pulled at another stray piece of lint, and with it, out came a strand of brown yarn from the doll's head. Her expression was sympathetic. "You weren't yourself this morning, were you? When you yelled at Molly?"

"No." Esther shook her head.  "I wasn't. It was like... I was saying things I'd never really thought. I didn't mean any of that, I... I feel so terrible about it."

A moment of silence passed, and Esther paled.

"Y-you don't think..."

Dessie giggled, despite herself. "No, I don't think he's possessing you, Esthie." Her serious expression returned. "But his presence... it's enough to influence us."

She reached out and gave Mr. Hopp another pinch on the cheek, then squeezed Esther's hand. Her grip was just as icy as it had been the night before.

"Remember you aren't alone, though, Esther. If you don't have anyone else, you have me and Mr. Hopp." She shifted her hand and pet Mr. Hopp on the top of his head. "Isn't that right, funny bunny?"

Esther nodded. "Thanks, Dessie. Stay safe."

"You too."

She found Billy Thomas in the library, where he was sitting upside-down on a chair, kicking his legs up and down the way he usually did with his ball before he got it thrown away. He smiled and waved at her as she approached, though she could hardly muster up the will to smile back.

"Hey, Billy... have you seen Molly?"

It took a second for Billy to process her question, then he smiled again. "Yeah." He swung his legs around the chair and sat up. "Second floor bedroom in the East wing. But watch out." He narrowed his eyes and his smile turned mocking. "Miss Bo took her there."

It was unlike him. Billy was mischievous and often annoying, but never malicious. Esther shuddered. "Billy?"

"Hm?" Billy tilted his head, looking at her innocently again. He scratched at one hand, which Esther could now see had a familiar lump on it- the kind that had plagued Jackie Goodwin's skin.

"Y'know what? Never mind." Esther giggled nervously. "Thanks. I'm gonna go look for Molly now."

"Alright." Billy smiled warmly again and waved. "Any time, Esthie."

Was she going crazy? Why did everyone seem to be taunting her? First Molly, then Billy- it seemed like everyone was out to get her. She held Mr. Hopp closely as she walked, as quick as she could without getting in trouble for running indoors, reminding herself of Dessie's words, of the fact that she wasn't alone here. If you don't have anyone else, you have me and Mr. Hopp.

She remembered Molly liked that bedroom. Since they were children, it'd been Molly's favorite place to nap, or sulk, or play, or do anything that she wasn't supposed to and didn't want the matrons to see. Maybe it was the pink walls that drew her to it, or maybe it was the bunk bed, or the distance from the children's room. But when Esther made it to the room, it was empty.

Her first impression, at least, was that it was empty.

Then her eyes met the painted white of Miss Bo's sclera, and she turned to see the stuffed panda on the dresser.

Miss Bo was creepy all the same as Mr. Hopp, resembling a plastic doll dressed in a bear costume a bit, made worse by her animalistic features molded into her plastic face. Her blue eyes appeared lifeless and uncanny, her smile the same sort of wrong as Mr. Hopp's had been when she'd first seen him. Black with a white head and white paws, a pink heart was sewn into the white spot on her torso, and a pink bow was wrapped around her head the same shade as her pink trousers and suspenders.

As if afraid Miss Bo would bite or attack her, Esther slowly reached out and took her off the dresser.

"What are you doing here all alone?" She asked softly.

Miss Bo tilted her head, or maybe Esther imagined she did. It was getting hard to tell. It was even harder to tell if she was imagining Miss Bo's eyes pointing toward the dresser drawer.

Unable to control her curiosity, Esther opened it.

Inside were what first appeared to be three small, golden medallions- Esther couldn't see, until she looked closer, the gold chain that connected them. One of them bore a strange X-shaped symbol on it, and the letters B-A-E-L.

Bael.

The other two were harder to understand. Both sporting a symbol that could only be described as knots looping into one another, the two surrounded the X symbol. And underneath the necklace was a box with a cross on it, and a phrase Esther didn't recognize: Reis-Nichols.

She reached out for the necklace, or maybe the box underneath it, and suddenly, she felt a grabbing force on her arm, a massive claw yanking on her wrist. Shrieking, Esther pulled away and dropped Miss Bo to the ground. No, nothing had happened. She'd imagined it. She'd made it up. She wasn't sleeping well. She...

She needed to tell Isaac. No more games. No more pretending things were okay. Isaac needed to know, because if someone didn't know, Esther was going to lose her mind. Grabbing Miss Bo and Mr. Hopp again, she hurried back the way she'd come, only stopping to grab the suddenly unattended Mr. Stripes to give back to him when she stumbled over him in the hallway. Isaac needed to know. He needed to hear her out.

But where was Isaac?

[cassidyafton]

Yes I did forget about about this blog briefly. Shut up /lh

[cassidyafton]

M.I.A.: Chapter 5

Summary: Tired as she is of the whole "being the only person to realize someone is in danger" schtick, when Trinity Bales's parents disappear the night after her rescue mission, she once again takes on the role of the rescuer in hopes that she and her appointed "rescue squad" can get to the bottom of the mystery of her parents' absence before whatever's taken them from her can have its way.

Chapter summary: When Trinity wakes up for real this time, she wants to continue her search right away. Her friends aren't so keen on the idea.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Maritza blinked, looking at Trinity from across the backseat of the minivan as if she was an idiot. “Yeah? Dude, I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes. Did you catch anything I said?”

Trinity looked away, not wanting to admit the answer was no. It had been a blur since she’d woken up in the hospital. She knew Abanante was there, and the Espositos had been enlisted to take her home. It had been a long process, through which Trinity had learned that Enzo and Maritza’s parents had gotten into a disaster of their own, but she’d caught very little other than that.

“Be patient, Marci.” From the driver’s seat, Maritza’s mother smiled warmly. “I’d be discombobulated if I were her, too.”

“...Right.” Trinity nodded slowly. “Thanks, Mrs. Esposito.”

“There’s no need to call me that.” She chuckled. “Just Bianca is fine. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Mom, I was talking to her,” Maritza complained.

“I’m fine. I just… must’ve missed an insulin shot this morning.” Trinity looked down at her hands. They were still shaking a bit, most likely residual from her attack. “I left home early- I probably forgot to take it before I left…”

Without Mom and Dad home to remind me.

That part went unsaid.

"Just forget it." Maritza waved a hand. "You've been out of it since we picked you up."

"What's on your mind anyway?" Enzo asked with that innocent smile that Trinity had come to associate with his goofy questions.

Trinity shrugged and looked out the window. She could see Enzo frown in the reflection.

"I've done more for your family than you know, Trinity. I don't appreciate you insinuating I've done something to hurt your parents."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it, Ms. Abanante." The nurse had given Trinity a sympathetic look, seemingly missing the malice in Abanante's expression- assuming Trinity hadn't been making it up. "She was going into shock, after all. There's a good chance she didn't even know what she was saying." He'd laughed at that, but Trinity didn't find it especially funny.

Trinity had nodded, just to keep Abanante's death glare away from her. "Yeah, I guess so."

Abanante's face had softened as she smiled at her and the nurse, but there was something suspicious that had remained in her expression as she eyed Trinity. "Yes, of course. Well, I understand your struggle right now, dear. Just remember it's what you do with it that matters. I know you mean nothing but the best- I'd hate to see you taking out your struggles on others."

Before Trinity could say anything else, Abanante had turned back to the nurse.

"Have you spoken to the Espositos about discharge? They'll be the ones taking her home."

Trinity sighed, unsure of how to explain it. "Something is just weird. I think we need to meet with the others tonight."

Their father, Miguel, shook his head- she saw it through the rearview mirror. "I dunno, Trinity. I know how you kids are with your adventures, but I think everyone could use a break tonight, most of all you. I'm sorry your parents are busy, but you've gotta take care of yourself and your friends while they're gone, okay?" He smiled. "Why don't you come over for dinner, so you don't have to be home alone?"

She opened her mouth to object, my parents aren't busy, something bad happened to them, but what were Miguel and Bianca going to do about that? Change their I'm sorry from I'm sorry your parents are busy to I'm sorry your parents might be kidnapped? Or murdered, or being tortured, having God knows what awful things happen to them while everyone sits around doing nothing? The police weren't going to help. That was the only help the Espositos could offer.

She briefly thought back to the spiders from her dream.

Again, she started to object, to at least say I'm sorry, I can't and call Delroy or Ivan or Nicky or maybe even get Enzo or Maritza to back her up so she could investigate again, but she glanced back at Enzo and Maritza, and Enzo was giving her that goofy smile again, and Maritza... she looked stressed, eyes darting back and forth between her parents. Trinity was sure Maritza knew she was looking at her, but she wouldn't return the gaze.

"Fine." She sighed. "One night. Then we're back on as soon as possible tomorrow."

-

“So, what are your parents doing right now, Trinity?”

The question came after some quiet discussion between Trinity, Enzo and Maritza, in which they agreed that there was no use telling the truth to their family- an agreement they came to because the Esposito kids knew their mother, and they knew this question was coming.

“Oh, uh…” Trinity brushed a braid behind her ear. “My mom usually works from home, but she got, uh, called into the office. Which is to say, out of town. My dad is… just with her? For moral support?”

The one thing she could stand by was that she never told Maritza and Enzo she was a good liar.

“And why didn’t you go with them?”

“Uh…”

“School,” Enzo chimed in. “She was telling me she would’ve gotten way behind if she’d left with her parents.���

“Oh, of course.” Bianca laughed. “Not a lot of those teachers are very tolerant of that- even the nice ones. They’re a lot of the same people as when I went to school, y’know. I’d lose my mind if I had to teach for that long.”

Enzo leaned in next to Trinity. “Mom’s a bit of a rambler.”

"I can tell," Trinity returned.

"Oh, is Mr. Murtaugh still working?" Bianca's eyes lit up. "We thought he was terrifying."

"Oh yeah, yeah." Trinity nodded. "He's still working. And still... eccentric."

Bianca laughed. "You know, one time we found a giant crow costume in his storage closet."

"You did not," Miguel interjected with a grin.

"Did too! Three people saw it."

"It wasn't there when I looked, I don't know what to tell you."

"Well- he must've hidden it!"

The kids glanced back and forth between each other.

"I'm going to call Miranda. You finish the spaghetti." Bianca stepped away from the pot she'd been attending and out of the kitchen. "I guarantee you she'll remember the crow costume that absolutely was there."

"A crow costume?" Trinity tried not to let her shock or interest show. "Like..."

"Yep." Bianca nodded proudly. "A full crow costume."

"You weren't here for it," Maritza said quietly, so as to not alert her mother, "but Ivan was saying earlier today that he thought Murtaugh might've been Crowface. Right before you conked out and scared the hell out of the rest of us."

Trinity frowned. Would it kill Maritza to be a little more delicate?

"But he wouldn't have had access to the coins," Enzo added.

"And Abanante would?" Maritza raised an eyebrow.

"I don't like all this whispering you three are doing." Miguel was smiling, but not much- more so to say I'm not mad at you (yet) than this is particularly funny- as he set down plates in front of the kids.

"Oh, Trinity, after dinner, Enzo got this new game we've been dying to show someone." Maritza was the first to take the cue to change the subject. "You wanna play?"

"Well, I..."

Again, she started to say no, I can't, I need to go. As soon as she was home, she would call Ivan. Ask him what he knew about Mr. Murtaugh. She would get back on the search. If there was even time left, she was surely running low on it.

But going home didn't sound appealing, and Enzo was giving her that goofy smile again. That smile that reminded her of adoration, of the things she needed to take care of while her parents were gone, just like Miguel had said.

She nodded instead.

She could spare one night off.

[cassidyafton]

14:14: CHAPTER 1

Summary: After a mysterious call from a boy thought dead, Trinity Bales leads her friends into the Peterson house to rescue their friend.

Content warning: Kidnapping, violence against children, allusions to child death

Trinity Bales went to church a few times, when she was little. It stopped when one day, the pastor leaned over and whispered something into her mother's ear; without another word, she took Trinity by the hand and pulled her out of the church.

For years, she'd wondered if it was her fault, if she'd forsaken God so cruelly that even the pastor she'd never spoken to before knew.

There were old wounds on her upper arms from the holes she'd picked in her skin since the incident, as if she could pull out something evil festering inside her like an infection. But her childhood therapist had taught her how to avoid what he'd described as anxious tics, and so the wounds stayed old, even when the memory of whatever sin she'd committed resurfaced.

That was, until she saw Luanne and Jay Roth stapling missing posters with their son Nicky's school picture on the telephone poles down the street. Then, suddenly, she couldn't stop.

Nicky Roth was an underclassman of Trinity's, a socially awkward seventh-grader who'd only moved to Raven Brooks and into the house next to hers a few months prior. She'd quickly grown used to his chicken-scratch handwriting and his talk of aliens and cracking codes, and the inventor's club had been happy to welcome a new member. He hung around mostly Trinity's classmates and peers- her boyfriend Enzo Esposito and friends Delroy Clark, Ivan Torre, Finch Yi, and, of course, herself- despite his younger age, and while she'd no doubt noticed and taken to heart what had happened to the Peterson children, maybe that was why Nicky's sudden vanishing hit her so hard.

It had been a month now, a month of skin-picking and hair-pulling and checking every channel on her walkie-talkie over and over and over, but there was simply no trace of him.

A picture of Jesus stared back at her as she gazed blankly at her wall. She'd bought it from the thrift store not too long after the incident at church, and hadn't been able to take it down since. Too much uncertainty existed around it.

What was very clear to her, though, was that it certainly wasn't making her feel any better. Jesus and Judas- had she made a mistake by getting a picture with Judas? She certainly hadn't known at the time - seemed to watch her. One day she'd take the damn thing down, put it in the attic and let her room actually be a place of solace. As she switched back and forth through channels, however, she knew today wouldn't be that day.

"Trinity-"

She gasped, tuning back a few channels. "Nicky? Where are you, we've been-"

"Trinity," the voice repeated. No, it wasn't Nicky. It didn't sound a thing like him. "We need your help."

She recognized that voice.

"We're in my dad's basement," he continued. "Nicky's down here. He needs help. You-" he stopped, and Trinity could pick up on staticky footsteps before he picked up again, quieter this time. "You have to help him."

"Hang on..."

"Please."

"...Aaron, is that you?"

No answer. Aaron clearly had said what he wanted and that was that. Well, Trinity could help him- she’d find a way. She wouldn’t let Aaron- or, more importantly, Nicky- down.

There was blood on the white blouse underneath her sweater vest. She was making a mess of herself again, but she couldn’t be bothered with that right now. She lifted her hand from her left arm, where she just now realized she’d been picking wounds into her skin again.

She’d skipped the inventor’s club meeting today, citing a mystery illness that had kept her out of it all day at school. Finch had, as she tended to, been obviously suspicious of the story, but decided, as she tended to, that it wasn’t her problem and returned to painting her nails and half-listening along to Enzo’s little sister Maritza. It was a story she was going to have to go back on, though. She knew she couldn’t do this alone, and the rest of the club was her best bet.

She pulled her window open and started to climb out. It was a long walk to school, but it was one she could make. Nicky needed her.

By the time she made it to the science classroom, which served secondarily as the inventor’s club room, the shock of what she heard which fueled her determination was starting to fade, and the insanity of what had actually happened was setting in. She’d been contacted by a dead boy- presumed dead, at the very least- and given the location of her missing friend to save him. Sounding crazy was a very real risk.

So, instead of explaining herself right away, she just carefully opened the door.

“Trinity?” Enzo frowned. “I thought you were sick.” He stepped toward her, as if to check on her. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I was just… worried about Nicky.”

“Still?” Finch raised an eyebrow, looking up through her thick black bangs. “I thought they were treating it as a runaway. You’re really panicky about him when he probably knew what he was doing.”

Finch had never been fond of Nicky, and she’d never done much to pretend she was, but though Trinity brushed it off usually because Finch never seemed fond of any boys, she crossed her arms and gave Finch a glare this time, not in the mood for that kind of nonsense.

“I mean, yeah,” Maritza piped up from the corner, where she’d clearly been disengaged from what the rest of the club was doing. “Nicky runs off all the time. I’m sure he’s fine, right?”

“Look.” Trinity pinched the bridge of her nose, then pulled the walkie-talkie out of her bag and held it up. “I got a message today. Nicky’s in Mr. Peterson’s basement, and he needs help.”

“Who was the message from?” Ivan asked. There was a bit of hesitation in his voice, like he knew the answer already.

“…Aaron.”

The room went quiet. Trinity stood in the silence for a moment.

"Aaron asked me to help Nicky," she said after a moment of silence passed. "I can't do it alone."

"Do what?" Maritza asked.

"Rescue him."

"Rescue him?" Enzo echoed. "You can't- I mean..." He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "What if Mr. Peterson catches you?"

"I won't let him," Trinity insisted. "This has to be done. I mean, who knows what's happening in that house, and he'll certainly never let Nicky out. It's been weeks already. So I need to go in for him. We need to go in for him."

She stared at the others' horrified expressions, slowly turning to uncertain glances they exchanged between each other.

Enzo was the first to speak up.

"I'll help you." He was strong at first, but immediately started to relent, "i-if you're really not going to reconsider! I mean... the last thing I need is for you... y'know..." He chuckled awkwardly.

"Me too." Maritza stood up, and again, Enzo bristled. He opened his mouth to object, and Maritza glared, pointing her baseball bat at her brother.

"If you're gonna help save Nicky, so am I. I can handle myself just as well as you can. Besides- if the old creep tries anything, I’ll slug him."

"Maritza, it's not safe."

"Which is why you need backup!" Maritza insisted. "What do you expect me to do, just let you run off into danger while I sit pretty at home pretending everything's fine?"

Enzo hesitated for a second, then sighed.

“Everyone who’s going to help, meet me after club at the Roth house,” Trinity said. “I’ll give everyone a proper explanation then.”

“This is a bad idea,” Finch chimed in before Trinity could turn to leave.

“Then don’t come.” Trinity crossed her arms. A challenge she knew Finch would take, and of course, Finch did bite.

“Well, maybe I won’t.” Finch crossed her arms right back. “All we’re gonna do is get ourselves kidnapped.”

“Or we’ll save Nicky without you. That should be fine, right? You never liked him anyway.”

“Oh, what, like I need the glory of being a hero?”

“You’re our best chance, Finch. We need your skills on the ground.”

A few seconds passed. Finch looked at her suspiciously. She opened her mouth to justify her decision again and found nothing.

“Trust me,” she said instead.

-

The good thing about Nicky’s treehouse was that, no matter how many X-Files stickers and posters of garage rock bands cluttered the walls, or boxes of locks and puzzles and tools he’d tried and failed to explain to her before littered the floor, nothing stared them down the way the painting in Trinity’s bedroom did. Safe from any prying eyes, Trinity waited at the entrance as her friends climbed in one by one. It may have been a bit of an invasion of privacy, but she was sure most of them had already been up here before with Nicky around. Besides, with her parents always on her back and Jay and Luanne so often busy, it left Nicky’s house best for meeting up.

Finch, of course, either lost or stubborn, was the last to arrive, but Trinity didn’t complain- she’d come armed with a slingshot, at least, which was more than anyone else had brought, save for Maritza and her baseball bat.

“While we were waiting for everyone else, Enzo and I did some reading-” Trinity started, pointing to one of the makeshift maps on the table- “and we found out about the sewer system under the town. There’s a path through them that we can take to get around to the back of Peterson’s house without him ever seeing us. That’s very important. If he has any chance to see us coming, it’s over.”

“You guys know the way through it?” Delroy asked. “The exact way? I’m not messing with that if you don’t.”

“That’s what the map is for.” Trinity tapped it. “We follow the map, and we’ll be fine.”

“What if Delroy’s right?” Ivan asked. “Those can be dangerous…”

“Guys,” Trinity said, and everyone stopped and looked at her again, because they always did, “I’ll lead us. If anyone starts feeling sick or lightheaded, speak up, and we’ll come back here and regroup. I won’t let you get hurt.”

She turned to Enzo and took his hand. “You ready, Enzo?”

He did his best to smile, but it didn’t really work. She could tell he wasn’t ready as he shook out his free hand.

“We’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.” She squeezed his hand. “All of you.”

Trinity stuffed the map in her backpack and nodded to the others, leading Enzo by the hand back toward the entrance to the treehouse. “Let’s go. Everyone, follow me.”

Nicky’s backyard was big- big enough that, if she was careful enough, she could check Peterson’s location without him ever noticing. Carefully unlacing her fingers from Enzo’s, she reached for the binoculars around his neck and looked through them. No sign of Peterson at all.

“The coast’s clear.” She waved the others out the gate and down the street. 

She’d noticed it plenty of times on the walk home from school- at the T-intersection at the end of the road, the sewer drains let out, and right behind Peterson’s house was a large manhole which was left uncovered-

Trinity stifled a shudder.

The same one Mya Peterson’s body was found in.

It’d made Peterson himself a suspect, of course, but no one could bring themselves to leverage any real accusations against a grieving man like him- at least, not at the time. Now, with Aaron and Nicky gone, Trinity was more sure than ever that Peterson had in some way been responsible for what happened to Mya, be it her death or the reason she had been down there at all.

When the thought that Mya got trapped in the storm drain and suffocated came to her mind, she knew she would be thinking about it the entire time until they made it to the house. Fifth manhole we pass , she repeated to herself. We just have to make it to the fifth manhole .

With Ivan whining anxiously behind her like a scared dog, she took a breath and led the others inside.

It was about a minute and a half of crawling before they made it to the first manhole, and suddenly plagued with thoughts of getting trapped and suffocating, Trinity nearly shrieked when Finch coughed from behind her. Luckily, she wasn’t quite as far gone as Ivan, who did scream- and, from the sound it made, evidently knocked his head against the top of the sewer trying to jump back.

“Jesus.” Trinity could practically hear Finch roll her eyes. “I just got some dust in my throat.”

“It’s fine,” Trinity said. “We’re getting close.”

Her parents were going to kill her for getting her nice sweater vest and skirt covered in sewer water.

One…

There was graffiti on the walls, drawn in with sharpie. That might’ve put Trinity at ease, in another circumstance. If she could think clearly enough to remind herself that meant others had made it in and out.

Two…

“It gets a little tighter up here,” she warned, hoping to God that it wasn’t too tight, tight enough that they could get trapped, and even if they called for help there might be no hope. Tight enough that no one could get them out.

Three…

It would be no easy death, that would be sure.

Four…

Maybe that was how Mya had died.

The fifth manhole was open, and that was their sign. Hands sore and damp from crawling, Trinity pulled herself up the steel ladder anyway, wiping her palms on her skirt to help pull the others up. She’d have a lot to explain to her parents if they saw her clothes before she got to wash them, but maybe they would understand. She was here to save her friend, after all.

“I’m never doing that again,” Ivan whispered, hugging himself as soon as he was out of the manhole. “I am never doing that again.”

Trinity gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. “You did a good job.”

“I wouldn’t call it good ,” Maritza chimed in. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Trinity sighed. “More importantly, the back door’s bolted shut. We’re gonna have to find another way in.”

Hadn’t she heard Nicky say that exact thing once before?

After a moment of scanning, her eyes landed on a balcony with a ladder attached on the second floor and waved the others over as she shuffled through her bag for one of Nicky’s lock-picking sets- she’d apologize for taking it later. 

Everyone else followed her lead, climbing up the ladder while she crouched on the ground, fumbling with the small tools, faster and more carelessly each time so as not to seem like a fool taking too long to do something she obviously didn’t know how to.

“Here.” Enzo took her hands in his, guiding her movements. “Apply a little more turning pressure with the tension rod. You’re just holding it there, so the pins aren’t getting caught in the right position.”

Trinity blushed. “Right. Sorry.”

“It takes practice.”

“Since when do you know how to pick locks?” Maritza asked incredulously.

“Aaron taught me a while ago.” Enzo removed one hand from Trinity’s and scratched at his neck. “Y’know, before…”

Enzo trailed off. Trinity turned the tension rod and the lock clicked. Brushing her hands off on her skirt again, she returned the lockpick to her bag and pulled open the door.

-

Admittedly, Ivan wasn’t sure about taking the lead. He knew Enzo and the others were counting on him, but that didn’t make it all that much easier. And of course, that meant that he wasn’t really taking the lead. Delroy, carrying Ivan’s belongings, small trinkets that would help them navigate the house’s traps, was really leading, and Ivan was still unsure.

The Peterson house was a disgusting place, deteriorating rapidly from when Ivan had last been in the house months ago. The stale air smelled of rust and mold, the floor was littered with booby traps, and some of the doors in the house were barred off and locked with strong electrical currents- which Ivan learned the hard way after having put his hand on one to open it. As they walked, he idly chewed at his thumb, trying to quell the soreness from the shock. With every creak in the floorboards, his fear seemed to spike, wondering every time if Peterson knew they were there.

He could hardly think of anywhere he’d rather be less than this.

But there was nothing to be done about it, not while Nicky was still missing, so behind Delroy, Ivan worked his way through the house, setting out a safe path for the others. No traps, no metal doors, no locks. Just a smooth path for the others to follow.

Of course, it happened as a result of this that their group ended up separated. About five minutes into the search, Trinity phoned in on the walkie-talkie.

“Where did you guys end up?” She asked.

“We’re somewhere on the first floor,” Ivan responded. “It’s hard to tell.”

“Okay.” He vaguely heard Trinity repeating they’re on the first floor to the others, then her voice became clear again. “Just keep an eye out for the key to the basement.”

Right. Key to the basement. Ivan could do that, and he repeated that to himself, no matter how jumpy the shifting and creaking of the houses made him or how many times Delroy got on his case for trying to hide behind him from noises.

Ivan could do that, because his friends were counting on him.

Near the kitchen, they found the key to the basement in a safe.

The kitchen itself was run-down, poorly kept and messy, just like everything else in the house, but the stove’s hot surface warning light was still on. The kitchen had recently been used, and that told Ivan two things: one, there was no doubt he was really keeping Nicky alive like Trinity said, and two, he either was home or had been recently.

Scanning through the kitchen for any sign of what the code to the safe might be turned up nothing but sticky notes, old drawings that looked to be Mya’s, and empty cans of preserved foods for a good two minutes, before they finally found a note on the side of the fridge which simply read 1984.

(Aaron’s birth year. How had Ivan not thought of that?)

Inputting 1984 into the safe on the kitchen shelf opened it, and inside was a large red key. Matching the lock on the basement door. That was the key they were looking for.

In their hurry to get it and get to the basement, they almost didn’t notice Peterson there until they ran right into him.

-

There was a bear trap right in front of the basement door.

That was a disturbing sight. Though, of course, it wasn’t quite like the ones out of cartoons with dozens of massive, sharp teeth, it still must’ve had enough force to break bone, or skin and muscle at the very least, and here he was willing to put it right where Nicky and his own son might have ended up were they to try to escape. Trinity didn’t dare step any closer. She would risk stepping into it when Ivan and Delroy had the key, but now, she knew the operation needed her capable and uninjured.

Before she could even think to wonder what was taking Ivan and Delroy so long, she got her answer. Her walkie-talkie made a staticky noise, and she could hear Ivan’s voice from the other side.

“Get out!” He cried. “Get out of there! Before he finds you!”

Trinity bristled. “Ivan, calm down!” She whispered into the walkie-talkie, in case the he she knew Ivan was talking about was near. “What’s going on?”

“Peterson found us,” Delroy chimed in. “He’s looking for you guys. Don’t go running off, just- find somewhere to hide. Quick!”

“Trinity…”

Trinity turned to the others, about to tell them to hide, and then she saw why Enzo was trying to get her attention.

Peterson was right behind them, eyes burning with anger, but he just stood and stared. His gaze darted from Trinity, to Finch, to Enzo and Maritza, back to Trinity again, before the silence was finally broken as Finch shuffled through her pockets and pulled out a utility knife.

“Stay away,” she warned. “I’m not going to let you try anything.”

Without even flinching, Peterson simply reached out and grabbed the utility knife away from her, then crouched down and put his other hand on the top of her head, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“And just what are you doing here?” He hissed, and Trinity herself recoiled, unable to stop herself from imagining herself in Finch’s position. “Hasn’t your family given me enough grief?”

“Leave her alone!” Trinity yelled. A bad idea, but she couldn’t let her friend get handled like this without stepping in. It was just enough to catch Peterson’s attention, enough for him to shove Finch aside, and was it her imagination or was Finch shaking?

He stepped closer to her, and before she could tell the others to run, Delroy and Ivan hurried into the room, and Trinity realized she had to stall for time until Delroy could unlock the basement door.

“This isn’t about you,” Trinity said, eyes darting between him and Delroy. “We’re not here to cause you problems!”

“Then what are you here for?” He stepped closer again, and Trinity backed up.

The slight click of the lock opening was all it took for her to lose his attention as he looked over at Delroy and Ivan.

“Ivan.” His eyes narrowed, and Ivan shrunk behind Delroy, who didn’t even object this time.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Delroy challenged, holding the key and opened lock up. “You don’t want us to have this?”

“You-”

His expression shifted from anger to wild rage, almost animalistic. He charged at Delroy, who simply charged right back.

It was an impressive sight. Delroy wasn’t someone who Trinity had ever taken for being especially strong, but strong or not, he was certainly willing to fight off Peterson for them. He swung wildly as Peterson practically roared, trying to pry Delroy away from him and grab at the key, and Trinity scanned their surroundings for a way past the fight. But as it became apparent there was no way past them into the basement, Ivan stood next to Delroy, waiting, watching, as if he knew something bad was about to happen, and Trinity did too. Even as he struggled like a toddler, kicking and biting, they knew he could only hold on for so long.

“Delroy! Let him go!” Trinity called. “Just get to the basement!”

Delroy nodded, squirming free from Peterson’s grip, but before Trinity could open her mouth to warn him to be careful, he stepped back, and then it happened.

It wasn’t the noise that shook her, or the blood- though maybe it should’ve been. But she’d seen blood before, she’d heard Nicky set off the bear traps. She’d never seen one close on someone like this, but that wasn’t the most shocking part. 

No, the most shocking part about the whole ordeal was the way that Finch, not Delroy, but Finch screamed.

Trinity had never heard Finch Yi scream before, no matter what went wrong- it was always brushed off with a roll of her eyes and some snarky comment. But there was no mistaking the way that she did scream, and she screamed until it fizzled out into a weak whine and a gasp and she couldn’t make any more noise.

That was when Trinity Bales realized what they were up against.

When Delroy finally opened his mouth to cry out in pain, for a brief second, Trinity expected something horrible, something worse than the bear trap, to come from Peterson, and the shock only worsened when his rage quelled. With his back turned to the others, he crouched down, opened the bear trap, and silently lifted the injured Delroy, who was now writhing in pain and hardly able to move, in one arm. There was no carelessness in the way he handled him.

Of course, he’d been a father once.

“The rest of you,” he said, his voice tired and raspy, “go home, and don’t come back.”

He was giving them an out. The only mercy he’d ever given them, and perhaps the only mercy he ever would. She felt Enzo grab her hand, but she pulled away; she wasn’t ready to leave. Because Ivan wasn’t moving. His eyes were fixed on Delroy.

“Ivan!” She cried. “Come on!”

“But Delroy-”

“Come on! ” She repeated, and because he always did, he looked back at her, but this time, he didn’t move, even as Delroy swatted at him to leave.

He turned back to Peterson.

“Will he be okay?” He whimpered.

Peterson’s stony expression softened, for just a moment. He reached out his other hand to Ivan.

“Why don’t you help me tend to him?”

“Ivan, don’t-”

Enzo grabbed Trinity’s hand again. Practically shaking in his untied shoes, Ivan hesitantly took Peterson’s hand and his offer, resigning himself to the basement, and with no other choice, the others ran.

[cassidyafton]

M.I.A.: Chapter 4

Summary: Tired as she is of the whole "being the only person to realize someone is in danger" schtick, when Trinity Bales's parents disappear the night after her rescue mission, she once again takes on the role of the rescuer in hopes that she and her appointed "rescue squad" can get to the bottom of the mystery of her parents' absence before whatever's taken them from her can have its way.

Chapter summary: Trinity wakes up- or at least, she thinks she wakes up- in a version of Raven Brooks she doesn't recognize.

Trinity woke up on the cold tile floor of a dingy bathroom, drenched in her own sweat and shivering.

She groaned, clutching her head as she sat up. Where was she? How did she get here?

"Enzo?" She called, with no response but her own echo. "Nicky? Maritza?"

An empty, dark abyss of a building met her calls.

She wanted to call for her parents, but of course, this was about the last place she'd expect them to be. 

"...Is anyone there?"

No response. She stood up slowly, careful not to place her hands in the broken glass on the dirty floor. There was nothing else to do. Wrapping her cardigan around her chest again, she began to press forward. Black spiders with red spots on their backs skittered away from her path as she moved ahead, and by the time she came out the other side of the doorway...

Was she in her own house?

Hand grazing across the mildewy wall- Mom would never let the house get anywhere near this state- Trinity searched for a light switch. There was one for the hallway right outside of the bathroom, right between it and her bedroom.

When her fingers met the switch, she flipped it. It sparked, and...

Nothing. The house remained entrenched in darkness.

Sighing, Trinity wiped her hands on her skirt and headed for her bedroom.

What stood out immediately to her was the rag doll on the bed, one she hadn't seen since she was a little kid. Clearly modeled after Trinity herself, it smiled placidly up at her with empty glass eyes and an embroidered mouth. But stuffing was pouring out its back, and in the discolored cloud, she could make out the figure of something moving.

She stepped back. Another spider. What the hell happened to the house? There was no respite to be found in her bedroom. No comfort or reassuring familiarity. And certainly no sign of her parents.

That was fine. If there wasn't anything to do in the house, then she'd keep going. Carefully down the stairs and out the front door, she'd keep going. She'd keep going until she made it outside, where, from behind her, the shadows of gnarled trees seemed to cast the image of prison bars over the asphalt ground. It reminded her of Mr. Peterson. She turned around, away from his house, and went to look- since when had there been a forest there?

Carefully, she headed around the back of her house and past the tree line, continuing on even as the brush got thicker and thicker, until-

"Imbir? What are you doing here?"

At the soft meow and brush of the cat's head against her legs, she looked down, and there he was, big green eyes staring back up at her. He meowed again.

"I can't help you, Imbir," she said. "Go run back to the bakery. It's dangerous for you to be out here alone."

Imbir tilted his head, as if he could somehow understand the words she was saying, then arched his back, fur standing up almost straight, and she swore she could hear him say "no" as he did.

The first time Trinity had met Imbir, he'd been wandering around town rather carelessly, as if he expected the world to stop and go at his whim- which she was sure he did, after all, he was a cat- and she'd assumed him to be a stray. Knowing what she knew now, that he belonged to the bakery owner who she'd once heard laughing to Officer Neilsen about Mr. Peterson's arrest, it was a little discombobulating to see him walking about the town. But he was well-fed, if maybe a bit overfed, and everyone seemed to know to mind the cat, so Trinity assumed it was none of her business.

Imbir scurried a few feet ahead, then looked at Trinity expectantly. With nothing better to do, she followed.

As they descended, Trinity kept her eyes on Imbir. He was an ugly little thing, a fat cat with thin, stubby legs that reminded her of a wiener dog. His eyes weren’t quite the right shape, his ears were too small, and that hat he wore all the time only served to accentuate his unusually short neck. He was smart, though- what he lacked in looks he made up for in impressive observation and problem solving skills- so Trinity placed her trust in the hope that he was taking her somewhere she needed to go.

Which was silly, of course, he was a cat.

She followed him anyway.

It was when Imbir stopped that Trinity started to get concerned. He was yowling now, ears pinned back against his head, but he wasn’t looking at Trinity any longer.

She followed his gaze into the clearing he’d led her to and shuddered.

Before them, to Imbir's obvious dismay, was a giant...

Well, Trinity wasn't even sure what she'd call it.

It was a giant wooden spider, the same kind she'd seen in the house. With some kind of writhing sac attached to it and an hourglass figure carved into its abdomen, she was vaguely aware of what kind of spider it was- what kind of spider all of them had been.

What nearly slipped her mind was the way that it was swelling, splintering at the edges with a pressure she couldn't see.

Maa, Imbir yowled with a horrible desperation as he backed away from it, maa, maa, and as Trinity covered her ears, she fought off the urge to yell at him to shut up. They both backed up as if the thing was a ticking time bomb, like it was about to burst.

And then it did. The sac and the wooden body burst open, and from them erupted dozens- no, hundreds of smaller black widows, climbing over and covering their wooden mother, and then...

Devouring it.

Trinity screamed, she wasn't sure why, but something about the scene unfolding in front of her filled her with an agonizing terror. She stumbled backward, falling onto the muddy ground, and struggled to get as far back as she could from the sight of the near-cannibalistic destruction. Imbir was long gone. Trinity was alone in the forest, watching this thing get ravaged into nothing by spiders, and when the dust settled and the black widows dispersed, all that remained was a splintered mirror laying on the ground that she figured had once been inside the spider.

Carefully, and against all inhibitions, Trinity crawled on her hands and knees toward it.

Her reflection was disheveled, hair a mess, bloodshot eyes accented with dark bags. With its hand on the mirror, it looked up to face something she couldn't see.

Trinity did the same

And was met with the sight of Crowface,

Sporting two bloody, clawed black gloves.

She had no energy left to beg to know what they'd done with her parents.

Maa, maa, Imbir continued to cry from somewhere in the distance.

[cassidyafton]

M.I.A: Chapter 3

Summary: Tired as she is of the whole "being the only person to realize someone is in danger" schtick, when Trinity Bales's parents disappear the night after her rescue mission, she once again takes on the role of the rescuer in hopes that she and her appointed "rescue squad" can get to the bottom of the mystery of her parents' absence before whatever's taken them from her can have its way.

Chapter summary: The fallout begins the next day at school.

Content warnings: Illness, harm to children, potential medical inaccuracies

"Are we just gonna pretend Delroy's been here the whole time?"

Trinity shrugged, leaning back on one of the clubroom's counters as Enzo reached behind them to grab a cookie from the tin on the counter. "He sits with you guys at lunch sometimes. It's not that different."

"Yeah," Maritza took a sip from her bottle of lemonade- a funny choice for how late in the fall it was, but that had been what the Esposito siblings had brought for their little hangout, along with sugar free alternatives for Trinity herself, so she couldn't complain- and rolled her eyes. "Because none of us have anywhere else to sit."

"You could sit with me," Nicky mumbled. "Wouldn't kill you."

"With you?" Maritza gasped dramatically and faked choking at the thought, but Nicky didn't laugh- that was becoming the usual. Maritza chuckled instead, but she didn't seem too confident as much as she did like she was trying to convince Nicky to at least smile.

He didn't.

"And anyway, Delroy was my backup when you and Enzo were out at the house," Trinity continued. "He agreed to help, so I don't see the big deal."

"The big deal is that he's an asshole," Nicky grumbled. "Why'd you even ask him?"

"Nicky, I know like six people and you guys are five of them. It was him or Finch, and I was not going to ask Finch."

She reached behind her and grabbed a couple more cookies, nearly bumping straight into Enzo's arm as she did- Oreo-like sandwich cookies had been the only sugar free option that the store had, according to Enzo, so to not make her feel left out, he and Maritza had bought Oreos for everyone else. She was familiar with the brand they'd bought, though she noticed now that the cookies were a little less sweet than usual, lacking the licoricey aftertaste she had come to associate with them. That was fine with her, though- the more unpleasant aspects of those foods had been a fair trade in her eyes for the ability to keep eating sweet foods after she had gotten sick.

"So, we've got a suspect now, thanks to Maritza and Enzo, and two potential locations- the Peterson house and the amusement park." She took a bite of her cookie- she hadn't noticed until now how hungry she was. "But the thing is, I don't want any more investigations happening that I'm not part of. So we need to devise a plan. Some way to outsmart them."

"And we aren't telling the police about this one, why?" Ivan asked as she finished her cookie, voice and expression as meek as Trinity had come to expect of him. Always a shy kid. She grabbed another cookie from behind her.

"I did. The police haven't done anything. They haven't even talked to me about it. And y'know what's weird about that?" She cleared her throat. God, when did her throat get so dry?  She needed some water. Had she even had anything to eat or drink before she came to school? "Guess which cop they put on the case."

"No way." Enzo's eyes widened. "Kornwell?!"

"Kornwell!" Trinity repeated. "They put Officer Kornwell on the case, and I guess he's just been sitting around with his thumb up his-" she cleared her throat again. "Sorry. Point is, he's clearly not worried about what happened to my mom and dad, so someone has to be."

"That creepy crow thing seems to be plenty worried about it," Nicky added.

"Which is all the more reason we need to worry!" Trinity coughed. "Sorry. Sorry. My throat's really dry right now." It came out almost defensively, and she wasn't totally sure why. "But we need to worry about my parents because that thing is also worried about them." She took a sip of her lemonade. "This is serious. It's not just another mystery. People are in danger. So we handle this like we handled Peterson."

"It's gonna be a lot harder when we don't even know who we're following..." Ivan chimed in again, voice shaky.

"We'll be fine. We've got each other's backs, after all. Besides, there's no reason to be scared! You're plenty brave."

"I... I am?"

"Psh- no." Maritza rolled her eyes. "She's just hyping you up to get her to do what she wants."

"Oh."

"You guys." Trinity sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Another sip of lemonade would probably stave off the headache that was starting to form. "We needed every one of us last time. Whatever's going on now, it's all hands on deck." She held her hand out.

Maritza's expression briefly turned to sympathetic concern as she eyed Trinity's hand. "Dude, you're shaking."

"I'm fine." Trinity shook her head. "It's not important. What's important is if you're in or out."

Enzo put his hand in on top of Trinity's, gently cupping the back of her palm like he was going to guard her and not the other way around. "I'm in. Ivan? Nicky?"

"This feels like a wrong turn." Nicky frowned. "Someone's going to get hurt."

Trinity shook her head. "I'm not going to steer you guys wrong. But if we don't do this, someone will get hurt."

Nicky leaned back, but Ivan reached forward and put his hand in. Delroy shrugged and did the same.

"Maritza, it's on you. Are you really gonna quit a game before it's over?"

"I'm with Nicky, this is a dumb idea." She scoffed, but before Trinity could open her mouth to defend it, she put her hand in. "But I'm not a quitter. Let's go for it."

"Yes!" Trinity pumped her free hand. "Inventor's club on three. One, two, three-"

"Inventor's club!" The cheer echoed through the room as they raised their hands. But when she looked back at Nicky, he somehow looked even more exhausted than before. She briefly wondered if this was something he would've done with the rest of the club before what happened with Mr. Peterson- before she even came to Raven Brooks. She took a step back, reaching again for her lemonade, and stumbled over herself, barely catching her balance on the counter.

Everyone was looking at her weird when she looked back up.

"Jeez, girl!" Maritza cried. "Are you okay or are you not?"

"I'm fine," Trinity repeated, though it was a bit of a struggle to catch her breath. "I'll be fine. There's more important things going on right now. Besides, I'll be fine by the time of the meeting this afternoon- then we can start discussing plans. Delroy, you joining us for the meeting?"

Delroy shrugged. "Might as well, if I'm gonna be helping out."

"Then we'll plan on it. I'll see you all at lunch?"

"That sounds like a good cue to leave."

The kids jumped- through what felt like a sudden jolt of shock to Trinity's brain, she could make that out- and she directed her focus to the clubroom door, where Mr. Murtaugh, creepy guy that he was, was poking his head in. Were it not for the fact that she had him for science, and he seemed at least decently well-adjusted, if a bit eccentric, she might be suspecting him to be behind something like this.

"Class is starting soon," he continued, sporting his same gummy smile as usual. "I wouldn't want you kids to be late."

"Right." Trinity nodded slowly. "Thanks, Mr. Murtaugh."

Taking that cue, she headed for the door slowly, as to keep her balance- she didn't need the others looking at her like that again, like she was incapable or weak in some way. She hardly paid attention to the counter they'd left a mess, or the tin of cookies that'd gotten knocked over. She chuckled to herself, though, wondering if any of the others had noticed that they must've been getting into her sugar free cookies.

Maybe this sickness would go away by the time of the actual club meeting.

-

"Trinity!"

Trinity jumped a bit- another jolt of shock to the brain that seemed to make her vision go blurry- as Enzo approached her. "Enzo, hey."

"Where were you at lunch?" Enzo asked, his expression that same one of sympathy and worry that it'd been when she'd fallen in the clubroom that morning.

"I'm fine," Trinity responded. Only after she said it did she process that it wasn't an answer to his question. The truth was, she'd spent most of that lunch period pacing between the halls and the first floor girls' bathroom, fighting off a persistent dizziness and the urge to vomit. She didn't want to admit that, though- so maybe the situation was getting to her, but her friends didn't need to know that.

"We were worried about you," Enzo pressed.

"I said I'm fine, Enzo," she repeated as she sped up a little bit, nearly stumbling over herself again as the dizziness hit her again with a vengeance. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm alright, really. We've got more important things to worry about, anyway."

She reached for the clubroom door, hoping Enzo would ignore the way she struggled to get a grip on the handle. 

"Anyway, I was thinking during class, and we've got a few ways we can go about this. Once everyone else is here, I'll go over it."

"Ah, Trinity, Enzo, there you are."

Trinity recoiled again, her vision more than beginning to blur from the shock, as her focus struggled to fix on the source of the voice. She reached out and leaned against the chalkboard on the wall for balance.

"Principal Abanante?" Her brow furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Abanante clasped her hands together and smiled. "I overheard some of the conversation this morning, and I just thought I'd step in and make sure everything we're doing is, well, legal. Things we would want to be encouraging at the middle school."

Trinity clutched her forehead with her free hand and squeezed her eyes shut, briefly removing her other hand from the chalkboard to pull the purple cardigan she'd worn today over her chest. "Look, I- I understand, but now isn't a good time. Can we talk about this later? Please?"

"Well, my dear, I'm worried this is a more pressing matter than you might want me to think it is. I know you kids are wound up after what happened with Mr. Peterson, but it's important that we don't cloud our judgements with fantasies. I'd hate to have you sneaking around harassing some poor sap who hasn't really done anything wrong in hopes of solving another mystery."

"It's not-"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Enzo asked.

"No! I mean- yes, I'm..."

"-Fine?" Maritza finished. Trinity could hear her voice drawing nearer. "You don't look fine."

"No, I... I am, I just-"

She stopped abruptly, swallowing back the acid rising in her throat, and opened her eyes. She was shaking again, so nauseous she could barely stand up. And there it was- everyone was looking at her like that again. 

"I think it's just stress." Abanante smiled sympathetically and tilted her head just like that goddamn crow had done. Her stomach turned. This was wrong, this was all really wrong. "How did you sleep last night? I'm sure things have been hard these past few days with your family."

"What did you do?" Trinity choked out, unable to help herself. Her voice was weak from pain, and that only made everyone else's pity worse. "What did you do to my parents?"

"I think you need some rest, Trinity. I'll take you to the nurse's office."

"No, no- no-"

She couldn't form any more words than that. As Abanante reached for her, her attempt to pull back became a jolt in her arms and a buckling in her knees. She felt her head hit the chalkboard before she recognized she'd been falling. She heard the others' confused cries before she realized anything was wrong.

The sugar-free cookie tin was the one that was knocked over.

All she knew was that she couldn't see anymore.

[cassidyafton]

M.I.A.: Chapter 2

Summary: Tired as she is of the whole "being the only person to realize someone is in danger" schtick, when Trinity Bales's parents disappear the night after her rescue mission, she once again takes on the role of the rescuer in hopes that she and her appointed "rescue squad" can get to the bottom of the mystery of her parents' absence before whatever's taken them from her can have its way.

Chapter summary: Trinity meets her enemy.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?"

Maritza's tone was a combination of annoyed and sympathetic as she watched her brother almost frantically pace around the living room from the couch.

"I can't," Enzo answered, continuing his relentless but aimless walking as if it was going to reveal to him some answer, some way to ease his obvious panic.

She sighed, glanced around to ensure their parents weren't listening, then stood up, leaning so heavily on her crutch that Enzo thought he was going to have to catch her to keep her from falling.

She waved for him to follow her. "Let's go."

"What? Where?"

"You said she was carrying one of those Golden Apple coins. Peterson had a freakin' million of those things. There's probably a clue back at his house. That way you help Trinity, she doesn't get hurt, and we can put this crap to rest." She grinned sardonically. "I bet Trinity will just love that, won't she?"

"Okay, okay, point taken." Enzo waved his hand, covering part of his face that was already turning red. "I'm right behind you. But be careful with your leg, okay?"

-

"...I don't think I can do this."

Nicky looked exhausted, and Trinity frowned. It was worse than she'd expected, almost- there were dark bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept at all, his hair was messy and his posture was slumped like it was a struggle to stay up. All around, he just seemed... uncomfortable, and beyond tired.

She was sure, though, that their choice of meetup location probably didn't help much. The amusement park's entrance was dark and cold, oddly foreboding despite just being an abandoned park. A light breeze that carried a few leaves and the calls of ravens rustled the bushes and trees around them in a way that set off red flags in Trinity's mind, the kind that screamed at her that you're not alone- even when you think you are.

"Nicky..." Trinity sighed.

"I just can't," Nicky repeated.

"I know you're on edge right now," Trinity offered. "Trust me, I get it. I just... need someone to help me out. But if you can't do it..."

Footsteps. Nicky cried out in shock and the two of them turned around to face it.

"What-?" Nicky glanced at her suspiciously.

"Maybe Delroy can."

"No. No, no no." Nicky shook his head. "Absolutely not!"

Delroy shrugged. "Thought you just said you couldn't do it."

"What do you know about any of this?" Nicky challenged.

"Just about as much as you, from the sounds of it. Trinity's parents got kidnapped, and you're too scared of getting caught again to help her out."

"Delroy!" Trinity started, but before she could say anything, Nicky grabbed at him. Holding him by the collar of his yellow jacket, Nicky practically growled. He was shaking, and Trinity couldn't tell if it was anger or maybe some kind of fear- or maybe even just the cold.

"You stay out of this. You don't have any idea what we've been through. What I've been through!"

Delroy shook himself out of Nicky's grasp and shoved him away.

"Will you two stop it?!" Trinity cried. "Now isn't the time for fighting!"

"If you'd told me he was coming-" Nicky pointed in Delroy's direction- "I wouldn't have come at all."

"I know." Trinity nodded. "I couldn't tell you. But I figured you might still be shaken up, Maritza and Enzo didn't pick up the phone, and Ivan was too scared, so-" she sighed. "I invited Delroy as backup."

Nicky's glare didn't falter. Before Trinity could figure out anything else to say, she heard another rustling sound- not just the breeze, but footsteps.

She turned around.

You're not alone.

Her eyes landed on a figure in the brush.

It was tall- tall enough to be an adult, to be certain, with large shoulders and arms that Trinity could barely make out. Dressed in a black cloak, it almost looked just like a shadow- the only thing that gave it away was the yellow of its giant beak.

She had seen that before.

"That's it!" She cried, pointing toward the figure. "That's the guy that was in my house!"

The figure bristled, turning its face right toward Trinity.

"Hey!" She called. "What did you do with my parents?"

It turned away and began to run. It was fast, and as Trinity began to pursue it, she almost wasn't sure that she could catch up. Delroy was quick to follow, but when she turned around, Nicky was still standing there.

"Nicky." She reached for his hand, her voice stern. "I need your help. Are you in or out?"

Nicky looked uncertainly at her, then at Delroy. Then he nodded. It wasn't quite determination that she saw in his expression as much as it was spite, but he was agreeing nonetheless.

"Then let's go!" She took his hand and began to run again, with him stumbling to keep up with her.

The wind and cold air was enough to make Trinity's extremities nearly go numb, and she struggled to keep Nicky going at her pace without losing her grip on his hand. She could hardly feel most of her face or her ears. Her braids were blowing into her face, and she could hear Delroy and Nicky's uneven footsteps behind her. But she couldn't focus on anything but the crow-faced figure they pursued. She had seen it looming over her bed, as if it were a caregiver about to tuck her in. It had run when she saw it, and by the time she'd made it out of her room, it was gone without a trace, and by the morning, so were her parents. There was something in the way it looked at her, even without visible eyes, that felt almost taunting.

Keep your nose out if this one- I'll know if you don't.

Well, whatever it was, standing silently in a clearing in the forest with its back to them, it knew now.

The kids came to a stop, Nicky barely keeping his balance on the muddy ground as they did.

"What did you do with my parents?" She asked again. "I know you took them."

It turned its head to the side, as if to look at Trinity from the corner of eyes it didn't seem to have.

"Don't make this difficult," she continued, as if she had any power over the situation. "I'll keep digging until I find out what you've done."

Thunder began to rumble in the distance. Trinity bristled.

"I'm not scared of you!"

Its head turned further, as close as the thing could get to getting it all the way to face them, then it slowly turned the rest of its body in tandem.

As the figure stared, tilting its head at them, a flash of lightning blinded them. And as a flock of ravens- an unkindness, a treachery or a conspiracy, she'd read they were called- began to swoop down, it disappeared.

And then they heard the croaking from behind them.

It was like a woodpecker knocking against a tree. Were it not for the fact that all of them were on edge already, they may have just brushed it off as that. Instead, when they turned around, there was the same figure.

Not quite as tall at it had seemed at a distance, the figure held out an arm, pulling what appeared to be a clawed black glove further up its wrist. On its arm landed a raven.

"GET OUT," it croaked.

"What did you do to my parents?!"

"GET OUT," it repeated, ignoring her question. It swung its arm in a motion not quite like it was going to hit her, but Nicky yelped and pulled her back anyway as the raven on the figure's arm- and with it, its treachery of mates- began to fly right toward them.

She barely had time to process anything but the ravens. Not the way she slipped and covered her fancy mary janes in mud, not the flash of lightning, not the disappearance of a familiar black-cloaked, crow-faced figure in her peripheral. Not Nicky's stifled screams or Delroy's curses. Not her own cries of pain. It happened too fast- pecking and swiping their claws at the group, they blocked Trinity's vision entirely as she struggled to fight back against them, but by the time she got them out of her face, it was too late. The three of them were covered in scratches and dirt, and there was no sign of the figure.

Trinity struggled to catch her breath, examining her hands and feeling at her face. It stung, at least, if that said anything about her situation.

"Did you see where it went?" She turned back to the others, to no response- nothing but glares from both of them. "We have to follow it. If the amusement park was a false lead, then that's our way forward."

"I think we should go," Nicky said quietly with a shake of his head and a wipe at his bleeding cheek.

"And I think I have to agree." Delroy crossed his arms. "You know where these crows have been? We'll probably get all kinds of diseases from this."

"We can't-" She paused, then sighed. "We'll be back. I'll be back, at least."

Nicky's gaze fell to the ground, and it was at that point that Trinity realized he was shaking. No wonder, too- he clearly hadn't been expecting a rainstorm, having come in just a t-shirt and shorts like he usually wore. But the weather was getting colder, and so she fought back the urge to tell him he really should've brought a jacket.

Her expression softened. "I'll take you home, Nicky."

-

The house wasn't empty when she returned. Her parents were still gone, obviously, but Enzo and Maritza were waiting in the dining room when Trinity passed it.

"Did you two... let yourselves in?" She asked with a furrowed brow.

"We had to talk to you," Enzo replied. "We went to Peterson's-"

"What?"

"We went to Peterson's," Maritza repeated, clearly annoyed with them having been interrupted, "and we found a crap ton of those weird coins Enzo saw you playing around with."

"And!" Enzo interrupted, to Martiza's visible chagrin, "There were more pictures on his weird conspiracy board than when you went that first time! There were pictures of your parents and your house- Peterson knew something weird was going to happen!"

"Why did you go to Peterson's?" Trinity asked. "You know that could've been dangerous. The cops could've arrested you for trespassing, you could've gotten caught by Crowface-"

"We did, actually," Enzo chimed in. "But we got away."

"You shouldn't have gone without at least telling me! I could've kept you safe. I mean- Maritza is injured, and you- what if something had happened to you guys? If you'd told me, I could've taken care of it. Or at least I could've come with."

Maritza groaned, but Trinity ignored her, eyes fixed on Enzo. It had been one thing when Enzo had gone in for Nicky, but this was different. The house was full of exposed traps and police now, and with Crowface on their tail, it was dangerous to be going anywhere alone- and what could Maritza do to protect Enzo if he got hurt?

Her stare was a silent challenge. Tell me your safety is a lower priority. Tell me it's okay if I lose someone else I care about.

"Well- what if you'd taken care of it?" Enzo returned. "Then you'd be risking getting hurt alone. If Maritza got hurt again, I could help her. If you did- I mean..." He shrugged nervously, his timid demeanor returning. "It's even more dangerous."

Trinity sighed. "I just- I would much rather be leading these kinds of things."

"We were trying to help," Maritza added as she pulled out her phone to show Trinity a picture. "Anyway, it looks like Peterson had his sights on your parents and Abanante. So there's our first suspect, right?"

"Right." Trinity nodded, scanning the picture intently. A picture of her parents and Abanante.

She'd never noticed Abanante tilted her head like that.

[cassidyafton]

M.I.A.: Chapter 1

Summary: Tired as she is of the whole "being the only person to realize someone is in danger" schtick, when Trinity Bales's parents disappear the night after her rescue mission, she once again takes on the role of the rescuer in hopes that she and her appointed "rescue squad" can get to the bottom of the mystery of her parents' absence before whatever's taken them from her can have its way.

Chapter summary: Trinity wakes up one morning to find her parents gone and a mysterious note in their place.

The fog of last night had cleared up when Trinity Bales woke up that morning, the screeching of a raven in her open window her only pull to the real world out of a quiet unconsciousness. No calling from her mom, no conversation from downstairs. She tucked one beaded braid behind her ear and glanced over at her alarm clock.

It was almost 8am. Trinity jumped, throwing herself out of bed as she stumbled for her dresser. Ten minutes to get ready, leave and be at school before she would get in trouble for tardiness. Why hadn't her mom called her? Had her parents slept in? Had they needed to leave? (For what? Mom worked from home, and Dad had no job.)

"Mom?" She called as she struggled to tear off her pajama top and replace it with one of the white button-down shirts her mother insisted on ironing every weekend. "Mom, I'm late! Can you drive me to school?"

Nothing. She pulled on a plaid-print skirt and some black tights and tried again, but if Mom was going to drive her, and especially if she still had to walk, she had to be ready.

"Mom, I'm late!"

No response. Brushing out the creases in her skirt, she hurried down the stairs.

"MOM?"

The kitchen was empty. No Mom complaining about that one coworker of hers, no Dad humming to himself as he worked his way through breakfast.

Trinity frowned.

"...Mom?"

The whole house was empty, actually. As she glanced around, she couldn't find even a single sign of life on the first floor of the house, and there was certainly no noise from upstairs.

Okay. That was fine. She just needed to get her phone, and she could call her mom. Maybe there was some kind of explanation- some reason that the house had been left abandoned and Trinity sleeping in upstairs. Once she got ahold of her parents, she could ask.

She nearly tripped over herself going back up the stairs for her phone, she couldn't help it- she was completely thrown off her rhythm. At least one thing was still in place, that being her phone on her nightstand right below her open window, and...

Had she left her window open last night?

She wasn't sure, even as she shut it now. So much had happened last night, between Nicky's rescue and the crow-faced creep she'd found in her bedroom later that night, that maybe closing her window had been the last of her worries. But nothing had been stolen, and there was no way that creep who'd gotten in did so through the window, so there was no harm in it, as long as Mom didn't find out.

Which it didn't seem like she was going to.

As she hurried back down the stairs, she dialed her mom's number, once again nearly tripping over herself down the stairs- which would've been much more catastrophic- and waited.

She heard the phone ringing through her speaker, and then from down the hall.

Carefully, she stepped into the office.

"Mom, are you there?"

The room was empty, save only for the vibrating phone on Mom's standing desk, and a piece of paper beneath it with Trinity's name written on the top. Some sort of a note to her, maybe? When she was young and Mom and Dad still worked outside of home, sometimes she would come home to notes like this stuck to the fridge with magnets. Maybe Mom just forgot to remove the note from her desk and left in a hurry. Maybe...

She disconnected the call, ignoring the missed call notification on Mom's phone, and pulled the paper out.

You won't find them where you're looking, it read. Keep your nose out of this one- I'll know if you don't. You're not alone, even when you think you are.

Lose the coin, lose your life.

GAAP

Trinity's stomach sank.

Taped to the paper was a small golden coin.

She knew immediately who had sent the note- the same creepy crow-faced figure she'd seen sneaking around her house last night. She wasn't alone then, even when she thought she was. Who was even to say she was alone now?

She whipped around, as if about to confront a figure, that, of course, wasn't there.

Get it together, Trinity, she scolded herself.

Hands beginning to shake, Trinity stuck the coin in her skirt pocket, and started to dial another number into the phone.

"You've reached Raven Brooks Middle School," A familiar voice over the other end started. "This is Valeria Abanante, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Principal Abanante. This is Trinity, uh, Trinity Bales... I'll be a bit late to school today."

"You already are," Principal Abanante remarked.

"What I mean is that I've got... a bit of a family emergency right now. I don't know if I'll be able to come in."

She could practically hear Abanante frown. "A family emergency? Can I talk to your parents?"

Trinity grimaced.

"That's the thing."

-

A few people were staring when she stepped into the outdoor cafeteria at about noon that day, hair barely brushed, shoes barely tied, blue jacket hanging off one shoulder. Most were unbothered, some seemed suspicious- and then there was Enzo.

"Trinity!"

He gave her a red-faced smile and waved her over, but his expression turned from enthusiastic excitement to sympathetic concern when he took in her expression. She blinked and shook her head, making her way toward the table; she hadn't realized she looked that bad.

"Hey." She smiled to Enzo as she sat down.

"So, as I was saying," Ivan started, with very little acknowledgement to Trinity's presence, "If they're really considering a science fair, it should at least be extra credit if it's optional. Otherwise, what do they gain from it? It's not spreading an interest in science to anyone- no one who's not already interested will join!"

Enzo frowned. "How do you know about all this?"

"My dad's on the school board." Ivan said it rather proudly, as if it was his accomplishment and not more so his dad's. 

Trinity looked around.

"Where's Nicky?" She asked.

"He stayed home today. Where were you for the past four hours?" Maritza returned.

"Home," Trinity sighed. "Something weird happened."

Weird was maybe a good way to describe the looks the others gave her.

"Man, are you really getting dragged into some new mystery?" Maritza scoffed. "We just put Nicky's whole Peterson thing to bed."

"It's not just some new mystery, okay? It-"

Trinity sighed again.

"It's nothing," she conceded in a somewhat condescending tone. "I'm just worried about my parents who have been missing for thirteen hours, that's all."

Maritza's brow furrowed. "Your parents?"

Trinity nodded. "They- or whoever took them- they left a note for me addressed from the old amusement park. They said I won't find my parents where I'm looking. I don't assume they'll be there, though, either."

Enzo nodded slowly, seemingly deep in thought. "Too obvious. If they wanted to keep you from knowing where they were, they wouldn't address a note to you from their location."

"Enzo," Maritza warned. "You're not getting involved."

"I can handle helping out a friend."

"And get yourself killed?"

"I can take care of myself, Enzo," Trinity said, accompanied with a gentle smile so it didn't sound too harsh. "Thanks."

"See?"

"Just- let me know if you change your mind!" Enzo grinned awkwardly. "I can help with anything you need help with!"

(Trinity made a mental note to maybe take Enzo up on that offer once Maritza wasn't at their throats about it.)

-

When Trinity's parents still hadn't returned that night, she made another call. It took a few tries before Nicky picked up, but Trinity was persistent.

"Hey." Nicky sounded almost just as tired as he had last night, and that made Trinity wince with guilt over her plan to ask him to immediately go running off with her again.

"How are you?" She asked.

Nicky mumbled something she couldn't make out. "Tired," he replied. "What's up?"

"Look... something weird is happening, and I thought you might know something about it. Well-" She stopped- that sounded too much like an accusation. "I mean, I haven't... seen my parents in a while. I think something happened to them, and I was just wondering if you remembered... those golden apple coins? In the house?"

"Yeah?" Nicky's voice rose a bit, which certainly didn't make Trinity feel any more secure about her situation.

"Someone left me one." She rotated the coin between her fingers. "From the old amusement park. Can you meet me there? I'm gonna need your help."

[cassidyafton]

just within reach

Summary: (old, written during mania) Something has taken over Vanessa's head. She can't get it out. What it wants is just within her reach.

Content warnings: Violent/cannibalistic intrusive thoughts, suicidality(?), harm against children, not canon compliant (sibling AU)

The sound of the ticking clock is Vanessa's only friend, counting down the minutes until her little brother returns from school, her only respite from the thing in her head.

That voice in her head that isn't hers.

And the horrible things it wants her to do.

VANESSA.

"No. I'm not listening."

Weeks of this thing... Vanessa is sick of it. Always demanding her around. You will hurt them. Forcing her to do his bidding, make him "real", give him a new body. Make him eternal. She doesn't even know what it all means, or why she needs to...

"I'm not listening," She repeats. "I'm not."

YOUR BROTHER. GREGORY.

"I told you I'm not listening."

WHEN GREGORY RETURNS HOME FROM SCHOOL TODAY, YOU WILL KILL HIM.

It's not a question, or any kind of simply request. Hardly even a demand. He says it like he's stating a fact. She will kill him.

"No!" She exclaims. "I'm not going to hurt Gregory!"

IT'S NOT A QUESTION.

YOU HAVE TO DO IT. YOU WILL KILL HIM.

YOU WILL FOLLOW MY PATH, VANESSA.

Its voice is low. Vanessa covers her ears tight, trying to block it out. No, no! Get out. Get out! I won't hurt him! I won't hurt anyone!

YOU LET ME IN, VANESSA, the thing insists. She squeezes her eyes shut.

"Liar!" She shouts back. "I didn't-! I didn't let you in! Get out of my head!"

Her head is throbbing. It feels like her eyes are going to rupture, or maybe her skull was broken from the force of whatever the hell just happened, and it's impaling her brain, stabbing through it. That would explain the burning pain.

YOU LET ME IN, the voice repeats. AND NOW WE WILL BE ONE.

YOU WILL KILL HIM. YOU HAVE TO.

"No. N-no!" She stumbles to her feet. "You can't make me do anything. I won't be your g-goddamn pupp-!"

Her voice is gone. It's not gone, but her throat seems to have closed up. She can't speak.

OH, DEAR VANESSA, it says, almost mockingly. She can hear the smile in its voice.

Her knees buckle suddenly, folding in toward one another, and she stumbles, trying to keep her balance.

Without any control over it, she feels her arms shoot up. Her wrists are limp and her hands hang down, but she stops falling, as if she's being held up by the wrists.

Like a puppet on a string.

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND.

With a great deal of strength, Vanessa forces her head up.

And then she sees it.

The rabbit is almost thirteen feet tall, and it looks like a huge version of the ingame Springtrap animatronic. Its body parts are crudely stitched together at the joints, and look unstable as if they could rip into pieces at any second.

It stares her down with piercing silver eyes, then grins widely, revealing a series of razor-sharp teeth, and raises a clawed hand out, and despite her terror Vanessa has to wonder why a rabbit would need such predatory features.

Without any say in it, Vanessa's right arm mimics its movement. It tilts its head sideways, shifting its floppy ears, and Vanessa's head moves the same way, until her neck is aching, sore, and feels like it's about to snap.

YOU HAVE NO SAY IN IT ANYMORE.

It disapparates suddenly, and Vanessa crumples to the floor.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" She demands, struggling to pull herself up.

WHERE AM I?

OH, VANESSA, DEAR, I NEVER LEFT YOU. I NEVER WILL.

YOU WILL MAKE ME REAL AGAIN.

YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM.

This is torture. It's sheer torture, and she has to stop it. This thing wants her to kill. It wants her to mutilate, take innocent lives, take children's lives. It wants her to gut them, rip out their organs, slit deep into their veins and pull them apart like strings. She can see the gore in her mind's eye, feel the itch of drying blood on her flesh and viscera right in her hands. This is what it wants for her.

(It's so real she suddenly wonders if this is where she really is, and she was imagining everything leading up to it.

She can hear police sirens. Her heart stops for just a second.

The little boy before her is dead. She killed him. And now the police are after her.

She's a monster. A beast. Holding an innocent child's innards in her hands like a trophy.

Like a predator to her prey- and she's as hungry as one.

There's no consequence. She's beyond them. Too far gone. Nothing more to lose. She's hungry. She needs to eat. The predator needs its prey. The hunter needs its game. She needs to eat.

She forces the boy's liver between her teeth and bites down.)

A scream escapes her throat, robbing her of all the air in her lungs. How could she think such horrific things?! 

"Get out," She pants. "GET OUT!!"

In a burst of desperate energy, she scrambles to the kitchen, resisting the rabbit's pull to keep her in place, shuffling through the cupboard for a sharp knife. Stumbling for control of her body, she backs herself into a corner.

"Get out," She repeats, positioning the small blade right above her jugular. "Get out of my head. I'll kill myself. I'll kill us both. Don't make me put this knife though my fucking neck. Get out."

Dead silence.

"Get out!"

She can feel its presence, challenging her. Daring her to do it.

"GET! OUT!!!"

With an agonized scream, Vanessa shoves the knife to her neck.

Then, just as the blade pierces her skin, the grandfather clock at the end of the hall begins to chime and Vanessa goes limp, crashing down onto the floor again. The knife clatters against the ground. She strains to try and reach out for it, but the rabbit must have her under its control, forcibly subduing her. She can hardly even move her fingers, no matter how hard she focuses.

It's tantalizingly close to her, but she can't even outstretch her arm enough to grab it.

She doesn't feel trapped, necessarily, but like her body is just too limp to move.

The clock finishes its short tone, and Vanessa finds herself relieved. It's 3:45pm. Gregory got off school fifteen minutes ago. The school bus will come by to drop him off any minute now.

A pang of guilt hits her- before she became a beta tester for that game, she took out a bit of her boringly extensive free time and drove Gregory to and from school on days their parents couldn't. Whether or not he would be coming with her to her house. Even if it was out of her way to take him to their mom or dad's.

Now, she doesn't trust herself in a car. Too afraid the rabbit would take over and make her crash it to kill him.

The image of Gregory's bloody, mutilated corpse, face burned and disfigured, glass from the windows skewering his torso, bones all broken and skin ripped and bruised...

It haunts her.

If there's any way, any way at all, she wants to save him from herself, so now Gregory rides the bus most of the time.

With what little strength she has, she looks up at the window to watch for the ugly yellow school bus that will come to drop off her brother. Her safety. Her protection.

When the bus finally approaches, Vanessa finds the strength to get up. Abandoning her attempt at offing herself before the rabbit can do anything or hurt anyone through her, she grabs the knife any stuffs it into her pocket to hide it.

There's a small knock at the door, and then a voice from the other side.

"Ness?"

"Come in," She calls, surprised by the strength in her voice. given everything, she'd expected it to be weak and raspy, if not completely gone.

Gregory peeks in carefully, looking back and forth, before evidently deciding he can, in fact, come in.

Vanessa rolls her eyes as she approaches, but she can't help but smile at her brother's mere presence. "I wouldn't tell you to come in if I wasn't ready, hon. Just knocking is enough."

"Yeah, I know, but I don't wanna...!"

He's visibly flustered. Vanessa can't help but laugh.

"Hon, I haven't had another girlfriend, let alone even had a girl over since the one time you walked in on me and April together. And anyways, that wasn't even a big deal- you've seen people kiss before."

"Yeah, alright... I just felt weird about it! Even though April was nice about the whole thing..."

Vanessa smiles. "Anyway, ex girlfriends aside-" She takes both of his hands- "How was school today?"

Gregory's eyes seem to lose their light. He awkwardly scuffs his shoe against the ground. "Same as always," He grumbles.

"Boring?" She finishes.

"Very boring," He corrects. "It's even harder to enjoy school when you don't have any friends..."

His frown hurts her. She struggles to look for a way to make it better. "Here... tell you what, hon, how about we do something together to get your mind off all that crap?"

Gregory can't fight the smile that the words bring. "Yeah, that sounds awesome!"

His hug catches her off guard, but she gladly returns it. He makes her safe.

KILL HIM. KILL HIM NOW. HE'LL NEVER SEE IT COMING. STAB HIM IN THE BACK.

The voice startles her and she tenses. No! No, I'm not going to hurt him, I'm not, I... I...

I... I wonder... what his flesh tastes like.

DO IT. KILL HIM. DRAW HIS BLOOD.

DRAW HIS BLOOD.

Draw his blood. Draw his blood. Draw his blood.

Slowly and carefully, she shifts to pull the small knife out of her pocket, then raises her arm back around to position it right below the back of his neck.

Don't think about it.

Don't think. Just obey.

You will obey.

She makes a quick, deep slice into Gregory's neck and feels hot blood spill onto her fingers.

"Ow!" Gregory cries. "Ow, ow, ow, ow..."

The pain etched on his soft features cuts Vanessa deep as she realizes what she's done.

She cut Gregory's neck.

She drew his blood.

She cut their ties.

He is no longer hers, no longer her baby brother, her respite. Her safety. Her protection.

She has chosen the rabbit over him.

He lifts his hand to his neck and finds blood, but Vanessa is numb, numb to the fear on his face, to the way the kid looks to her for guidance.

"Oh, geez, are you okay?" She asks, feigning concern to her best ability. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Gregory admits.

"Alright, it's okay. It's just a cut. Why don't we get you patched up, and then we can go out somewhere together?"

Gregory looks hesitant, still worried about the cut- and the glimmer of something shiny he swears he saw in the sleeve of Vanessa's baggy, pink striped sweater.

"I'll even drive. How about that?"

His eyes light up. "Wait, really?"

She gives a fake smile back, and for a second, just a second, a remnant of guilt twists in her chest.

"Of course! It's been a while since I've been able to take you out, hasn't it?"

[cassidyafton]

as if i make space saved for placelessness

Summary: Metal Sonic is found by an old friend after being abandoned by Eggman.

The tree cracks upon impact as Dr. Eggman is thrown into it, then Sonic himself. They fall from the hit against the tree to the ground below, crashing to the earth in a heap. Eggman furiously struggles to get Sonic off of him, angrily grumbling and insulting him as he does so. Sonic tumbles onto the ground, his face in the dirt. It happens so fast that a small, blue flicky bird gets caught in the depression in his chest. He wonders if the processors or jet mechanism in his chest will cook it to death if he doesn't stand up.

He thinks about that. He loved these little animals so much. He'd never have dreamed of hurting one before. Not any animal, especially not a flicky. They always loved him so much. If he'd have killed one back then, he would have never forgiven himself.

He doesn't move.

Sonic doesn't know where they are now. The "real" Sonic's attack must have sent them pretty far. He threw Dr. Eggman from his small ship, and sent them off into the jungle. It's a surprise they ever stopped moving, now sitting at the bottom of a massive hill.

His flesh-and-blood wannabe had torn Eggman's capsule of small animals to waste and thrown out the two of them like it was nothing. Sonic's body aches from the attack. Just one attack. It's painful. It's so painful. It's horrid that the only real sense that remains to him is pain.

"DAMN THAT STUPID HEDGEHOG!!"

Eggman screams in anger, thrashing against the ground. He hits and kicks like a toddler having a tantrum, and Sonic feels his metallic body burn with fear. He still doesn't move. It's not like he has anything to do, anywhere to go if he runs. The doctor's base is his home, the doctor himself the only connection Sonic has.

There's a twisted irony there Sonic hates.

Eggman stands up, and Sonic can hear a growl in his breath. "Come on, boy," He commands.

Sonic hates the sound of Eggman's voice. He can't find the strength to move. Not under Eggman's pressure. Not when all he wants to do is resist, but resisting will only cause him pain.

Is he resisting now? He doesn't know.

Eggman kicks his head to get his attention.

"Come on," He repeats, more angrily this time. His voice is growing into a yell. Sonic hates this. He hates everything about this.

He still doesn't move.

"What's the matter with you?" Eggman barks, kicking Sonic harder. "You got cotton in your ears? Come ON! You want me to leave you here? Take you back by force and dismantle you? We're GOING! NOW!"

Sonic is facing the doctor now. He wonders if Eggman can see the barely masked distress in his eyes. He wonders if he would care if he did. Probably not.

He knows Eggman's second threat is in vain. He knows he has a power Eggman can't replicate in his genuine bots. He knows the doctor needs him in that regard. He's the only part of his army that can really stand against Sonic's organic fake, without the power to resist- he can't even speak.

He doesn't have the strength to do anything. He lets his neck go slack and falls into the earth once again.

"Oh, I CAN'T STAND YOU! Just stay here then, why don't you? Know damn well I'm not coming back for you! Stupid bag of bolts!"

Growling under his breath, Eggman storms off, leaving the exhausted, stressed, and worn Sonic behind as his power begins to drain, coming down from the adrenaline of the fear Eggman's anger fills him with.

His system informs him it's currently 12:44PM JST, Monday, June 29. It buzzes in his head. He closes his eyes to save charge, and without his consent, his mind begins to wander from the basic information he runs through to distract himself.

Sonic doesn't know how old he is now. He doesn't remember how old he was when he'd been taken away from them and put into that awful machine.

Time didn't really feel like it stopped for him, but it's never felt like he's been growing up.

He should be.

It's so unfair. That's the only thing Sonic really feels nowadays. He feels wronged. Everything that's happened to him has been unjust. He should be growing up. He should be running around at the highest speed he can, but he doesn't have that kind of drive nor freedom. He should be hanging out with Miles. Nowadays he spends most of his time around the kit trying to destroy him. He should be talking and laughing with his friends, making quippy jokes at Eggman during battles. He doesn't even have a mouth anymore, let alone any allowance for free will. It's cruel. He has more consciousness, more awareness than any of the roboticized before or after him, but he has no more privilege of expression or freedom. He's the only one who has no mouth, no means of speaking or expressing himself. It's only him, and it's torture.

One small failure was all it took for him to lose his childhood, and his status as a hero, and his entire life. Now he serves at Eggman's side like a slave.

He can still remember the way it felt when his mouth was closed up for the last time. As his flesh, muscle, tissue, blood and bone become nothing but worthless metal. His nerves remained untouched, and he felt every second of it. The pain, the horror, the last tears he would ever shed are burned into his mind.

He was only a kid.

It's not fair.

-

When Sonic wakes up for the first time, he doesn't know why. There's a rumbling in his chest. The glass around his eyes feels more tense, tighter than before. He's still beaten up from the battle with the rat that's taken his place.

He closes his eyes, waiting for his systems to recalibrate and reconnect to Eggman's network.

It's cold. The tension and frozen feeling in his metal shell tells him he's been out in the cold for a prolonged period of time.

As his system reconnects to the database, his one source of understanding anything anymore, horrible as it is, he's greeted with the information that it's currently 5:45PM JST, Thursday, September 24.

He's been asleep for three months, and he's just as tired as before.

But looking at it through the organic lens of "sleep," he supposes, is incorrect. He's not sleeping. His system shut down to preserve him, and he hasn't gotten any charge or repairs those three months. Of course he'd still be tired.

He mentally kicks himself for trying to imagine himself as a living, organic being. Still. He knows he's not. He hasn't been for just as long as he ever was.

He's been powered down for three months. Eggman really did never come back for him.

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself surprised at how little he can see. His vision is obscured by red, orange, yellow, brown leaves around him. The grass underneath him is just as beige as it is green, the whole area around him having taken on the orangey hue of autumn.

The orange makes him think of Miles.

He can't remember his face.

The flicky under his chest shifts and attacks wildly, desperately searching to get out. Sonic scans his memory to determine if it's trying to get out to fly away before it freezes in the winter.

This species of bird doesn't migrate, no- perhaps it's just angry that it's stuck. Or maybe it's suffocating, or the processors really are burning it up, or it's expended what food it may have been able to find in the small patch of earth available for it.

Sonic lazily sends a focused command to his chest region, shocking the bird a little bit to shut it up, and lazily lays his head back down, too numb to care about getting up before he freezes. Maybe if this body dies, Sonic will too.

He doesn't really want to die, but his daily living is torture. Maybe it's just in his lazy state of low charge, but he really can't find the urge, the drive to get up and stop himself from freezing to death in the dropping temperatures.

-

Sonic has a dream for the first time in a long time. Mammals dream to help process their memories. Robots have no need for such things. Sonic's memories are so vague, so distant that he has no need to dream either way.

In his dream, the first thing he feels is his jaw locking.

No.

Sonic wants to scream. He can't utter a word. There's a burning electric shock in his throat keeping him silent.

Not again.

Smooth skin begins to grow and shift over his mouth, forcing it shut. He claws at it with his hands, trying to pry it back open. The electric shock is riding up into his mouth, triggering and stimulating growth inside it, like a mold placed between his jaws. He can't move it.

He can't scream. He can't fight or cry out for help. He can't even cry. His eyes are burning, the electricity ripping at him from the inside. It's spreading. Closing up his insides. Reforming his body into something unnatural. Cold, hollow, empty, but it burns. He never stops feeling it.

It's spreading.

His legs buckle. He screams. The sound echoes in his head, and never makes it out. His vocal cords are gone, burned away by the shock. Like he's being burnt up by lightning. Static is overcoming his vision as his eyeballs threaten to burst from the tension, and in the back of his head, he hears his own tortured screams.

And it just keeps spreading.

The thought festers in him. Despite being out cold, he's fully aware.

He lays and tries to shake it off and sleep. He just wants to sleep.

Instead, he spends seconds bleeding into hours bleeding into days festering in the memory.

Not that the passage of time means much of anything to him anymore.

-

When Sonic wakes up again, he knows why this time. Impact to his head. A kick.

Something rises in his chest- he doesn't know if it's hope or horror. Did Eggman come back?

He waits to hear his voice.

Instead, he hears the snow crunch from behind him. Someone tripped over him.

Eggman didn't come back.

From his rerouted connection to Eggman's network, his system informs him it's currently 7:11PM JST, Friday, December 25. Christmas day. It's been six months since he was left behind.

He's been out for six months now. The frigid weather has set in his metal shell. The cold aches him to the core- his core being the only thing still warm. Beside that, he's completely surrounded by snow. The tension in his eyes has finally let up, but now it's a stinging pain, and he realizes that the cold has cracked the glass. His vision through that eye is blurred. The bird has nestled in his chest.

How ironic that he'd worried he'd cook the thing to death, but it ended up protecting it from freezing.

Half-heartedly, he lifts his face to see who'd bumped him.

A quick scan of the child reveals them as 8 year old Amy Rose. A young tag-along to Sonic's team, pink in coloration, with green eyes and a physique somewhere between that of a hedgehog and an echidna.

Dressed in her most comfortable green sweater and favorite orange skirt. Her rosy-pink quills are pulled back with a red headband, leaving only the short ones hanging on her forehead.

The girl who'd loved and looked up to Sonic before he became this.

Amy shrieks, jumping back and shielding her torso with one arm as though expecting him to attack.

Part of him begs to take in her appearance, her face, as long as he can, because he doesn't know when he'll forget her again. The faces of his friends are so loose and faded in his mind.

Instead, he turns his face back into the snow, hoping to power down again.

He's brought back into reality by a loud crack. Then another, and another, like whatever is cracking is spreading.

Six months ago, when Sonic and Eggman had been thrown into the tree that stopped their fall after his organic fake's attack, it had cracked and begun to tip. He doesn't move or try to look up or toward it, but that must be the tree that's cracking now.

He doesn't move. He lacks both the energy and the will. Even at the final split of the trunk, or as it begins to fall. He lays still.

His sensors are screaming at him about an imminent impact. the broken tree descends on his body. It triggers no survival response. He does nothing, and yet-

"METAL!"

At the last second, he's grabbed and yanked away, and then one hand is on his shoulder, and Amy is panting from the sudden rescue, on her hands and knees in the snow with him.

He turns to face her. He can barely see her from his damaged eye.

As soon as he does so, Amy leaps to her feet and screams, pulling out her hammer. With another terrified scream, she hits him in the head with it. It aches, but he barely reacts. Gasping and panting in fear, she hits him again and again, but each hit slows. Eventually her breathing has calmed, and she lifts her hammer from his head one last time, quieted by his inaction.

"O-oh..." She mutters. "You're just..."

Her hands, covered in thick, white mittens, come around his shoulders, and she lifts him up.

"There. Now just what are you doing out here in..."

She trails off as his chest begins to rattle. How he hates that feeling. The flicky bird forces itself out, finally ridding Sonic of the awful sensation of it crawling out of his chest. Dazed at first, it begins to fly off- not before taking an angry hit to Sonic's head. Sonic tries to run through his memory for when he did whatever it was he did to anger the flicky.

His neck is still slack, and his head topples aimlessly at the hit.

Still reeling from the rattling of the bird in his core, his weak body begins to give out. His knees buckle. He falls back onto the snowy ground.

"...Right, you can't talk, can you?"

He shakes his head.

He'd love to talk. To ask her why in the hell she's helping him at all when all he's done since she's seen him like this is kidnap her, and try to destroy her, and make attempts on the organic Sonic's life, and serve at their worst enemy's side. But he knows her, or at least he knew her, and he knows the answer he'd get.

"You're hurt."

She looks down at him sympathetically.

Then a few scattered snowflakes, the beginning of another snowfall, catch her attention.

He sees her green eyes green eyes remember that she has green eyes light up with an idea. Another sympathetic glance to the damaged Sonic on the ground, then her expression hardens, like she's made a choice.

"I'll get you back to the doctor," She declares. "You shouldn't have to spend the winter out here!"

If Sonic could speak, he'd beg her not to. Or at least, he thinks he would. The truth is, he's not sure of that. He doesn't want to be with Eggman, but it's far better than the prospect of staying here. And it's not like there's anywhere else for him to go- after all, Eggman's base is his home. The world isn't big enough for two Sonics, and that fake has taken everything from him, even his place in his own world.

Even though he has the perfect opportunity, he's too numb- he provides no resistance. Amy grasps his foot and begins to tug, dragging him in the direction of the base.

Despite the walk being almost entirely uphill, Amy never complains once. He hears her groan under her breath a few times, but she says nothing to him. She seems so certain this is what she wants to do. Because it's the "right thing."

Amy was always like that.

Now she stands at the door of the massive, industrial base of Dr. Eggman, and she still doesn't falter. She gives Sonic a smile, and helps him up. He hangs dejectedly, but only his feet remain on the ground. Amy is trying so hard.

Sonic's legs remain stable in sympathy for her kindness, but he still rolls his eyes when Amy places a red ribbon- the exact same color as her own headband- on his forehead.

She shoots him a thumbs-up and runs to ring the doorbell. Before it even begins to sound, he sees her come back to his field of view to run away- but then she stops.

"Wait, here," She says, digging through the pocket of her most comfortable green sweater. Finally, she pulls out a yellow-and-red flower, and takes Sonic by the wrist.

She places the flower in his palm, and ever so gently, uses her own paw to close his fingers around the flower.

"Offer it to him. For Christmas."

She takes him by the shoulders and turns him around to face the door.

"Good luck."

With that, she scurries off, and he recognizes the sound of the snow crunching as her hiding behind a rock to watch.

He clasps his hands together, trying to mimic the way Amy had done it.

Then the door opens.

Dr. Eggman doesn't look angry to see him, and that's a good sign. There would be no benefit to still holding a grudge against Sonic's defiance this long later. Leaving him battered and too low on power to do anything himself for half a year was punishment enough, surely.

Eggman takes the flower from Sonic's offering hands, and examines it. His brow furrows, and he looks away disapprovingly.

Despair pits deep in Sonic's core. He's going to leave him out again. He's going to leave him to freeze. It won't kill him, but damn it, he wishes it would.

But Eggman's next action surprises him. He lifts Metal Sonic under one arm. "There you are," He mutters dismissively.

With that, he turns to bring them both back inside, but for a moment before the door closes, Sonic sees Amy's excited smile. She really seems to feel like she's done something right.

Sonic envies her joy.

He's trapped in a world where the only connection he has is the one who turned him into this monster. It's something, at least, but... that doesn't make it something good.

He flexes his metal fingers, the hand Amy had so tenderly placed the flower in. He tries to preserve the memory of what that moment of connection to an old friend had felt like before she'd left him at the mercy of Dr. Eggman.

[cassidyafton]

TAGGING SYSTEM

Every fic is tagged with its title so that they can be searched and actually turn up in the results.

Fics are tagged with their fandoms, relevant ships, and occasionally, relevant characters.

Relevant content warnings are not tagged but rather provided above the cut.

Other tags:

#favs- my favorite fics.

List to be updated

[cassidyafton]

EARLY WARNING SIGNS OF GHOSTLY POSSESSION: CHAPTER 1

Summary: Freddy's crash in December wasn't an isolated incident.

Chapter summary: Freddy's technicians find a disturbing file in his system after a sudden system overload causes him to crash.

Chapter content warnings: Allusions to gore and child death

The trouble began in March- if you asked Anna Kwento, at least.

Truth be told, Anna didn’t care for her job too much. Not little enough to neglect making sure it was done right, but little enough to be deathly bored whenever she didn’t have a (generally uninteresting, as a rule of thumb) operation to supervise.

The glorified Roombas they called S.T.A.F.F bots weren’t working as optimally as the company had hoped, though, which meant that Anna was scheduled and called in regularly to supervise… everything. In general.

It was not the most entertaining use of her time.

So, as she did during most of her shifts, she sat and absently scrolled through her Twitter feed, absently taking in the garbage on her page and her surroundings both at once. She half paid attention as a little girl, about six to nine, approached her, but paid her no mind, assuming she’d get along on her way soon enough.

She didn’t.

Anna put her phone away.

“Hey, kiddo! Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex.” Anna smiled as much as she could as she crouched down to the level of the little girl- who, now that Anna had a better look, appeared just about 7 or 8 years old. “What’s your name?”

A simple script- a confused or lost child approaches her. She smiles, welcomes them, and asks their name. Not overbearing, but not intimidatingly cold.

When they say their name, she parrots it back to them, says something nice, and asks if they need help to make them feel welcome and able to trust her to help them.

“M-Molly,” The girl managed, twisting and intertwining her fingers anxiously.

“It’s great to meet you, Molly!” Anna replied, taking in the kid’s appearance. She was dressed in a blue dress with a red tulle outer skirt and black shoes, and her blonde hair was pulled into pigtails, sporting orange streaks at each side of her bangs. “You look lovely today. Do you need something?”

“Not me.”

Anna’s smile fell. “Pardon?”

“I don’t need anything. It’s Freddy. There’s a problem with him.”

“A… a problem?” Anna echoed, frowning.

Molly nodded. “A problem,” She repeated. “He’s being scary.”

Anna felt the blood drain from her face.

“…Scary how?”

Molly swallowed, balling her fists around her fancy skirt, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “He’s not moving right. He’s just standing and making weird noises and breathing kinda scary.”

Her breath hitched.

“Freddy doesn’t breathe, Molly,” Anna said in an attempt to be reassuring. “He’s just a robot. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“But he’s being scary,” Molly whimpered, looking ready to burst into tears. “He’s not supposed to be moving and talking like that!”

“H-hey, it’s okay!” Anna said quickly. “These things happen sometimes. Here, I can go take a look- I’m supposed to check up on everything in a minute anyway. Why don’t you come with me?”

Molly sniffled, then nodded, trailing behind Anna as they walked.

“Have you been here before, Molly?” Anna asked, trying to keep Molly happy so she didn’t make a scene.

Molly shook her head. “I’m on spring break at school now. Mama took Jack, Laney and I as a special day.”

“That’s great. Have you guys been having fun?”

“Jack and Laney think this place is silly. But I like it.”

“Well, I’m glad you do. I’m sure your friends will warm up to it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course! I mean, you think this place is cool, don’t you? What’s your favorite part?”

“Freddy.”

Anna grimaced. “…What about a second favorite? Any other characters, parts of the restaurant? The arcade? Maybe the play area or the raceway?”

“I don’t like any of the other characters as much as Freddy,” Molly complained.

“Not even a second favorite?”

Molly hummed, seeming to consider the idea. “Roxy! She’s all super cool with her raceway and everything! Is her keyboard real?”

“Of course,” Anna lied, knowing her boss would have her head for breaking the illusion to a child. “How else would she play it?”

“Mhm! Jack says it’s a fake, but I think he’s just lying to make it seem dumb.”

Molly smiled proudly, and Anna let herself relax a bit, feeling that she’d managed to handle the situation well enough.

At least, until they approached Rockstar Row, and Anna became aware of the chatter of a crowd of children who seemed to be crowding around Freddy.

So much for not making a scene.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Go ahead and play with your friends now, okay?”

Molly nodded and hurried away, clearly still disconcerted by what she’d seen.

The crowd of children all crammed together, faces pressed against the glass opening to Freddy’s green room, barely parted for Anna to pass through, leaving her to struggle and worm her way to the front.

Just like Molly had said, Freddy was still, just twitching, his shoulders sort of rising and falling like something trying to breathe, and Anna could hear strange noises, muffled by the glass wall.

She felt sick.

“Okay, everyone!” She called once she’d finally forced her way up. “Freddy’s having a bit of a bad day. Everything’s fine, but we’re going to need some space to handle it. If anyone knows what happened, let me know, and then hurry along so I can call one of our technicians to take a look, okay?”

She heard a sudden clank from inside, and glanced out of the corner of her eye-

Was Freddy… looking at her?

“Come on now, kids, we’ve gotta check up on Freddy, okay?”

Finally, the children began to disperse, leaving behind only three- two younger, and one who appeared about fourteen, dressed in all black with black and blonde hair.

“Do you three know if anything happened?” Anna prompted. “Did anyone do something? Was anything weird happening?”

“I saw it from the outside, if that helps at all,” The girl chimed in.

“Honey?”

She looked down at the little boy who’d called for her attention.

“If you’re gonna be talking to her, can we go?”

“No,” Honey said simply. “This place is too big. You can stay in this hall, but if I catch you leaving your mom’ll have my head.”

“But no other kids our age have to be followed around like this!”

“No other kids your age have a track record of getting lost half as long as yours,” Honey scolded. “You’re staying here until I finish.”

The boys grumbled and trudged off disappointedly.

“Don’t go trying to leave because you think I won’t see,” She called after them, then redirected to Anna. “I’m so sorry about that. You know how kids can be.”

Anna nodded in understanding.

“My name’s Honey Fitzgerald. I saw when he malfunctioned, so I’ll do my best to help. Let’s see…

I guess I didn’t really see what happened before it, but I heard this really nasty sound, like microphone feedback. When I looked over to check, the lights inside were flickering, and the ones in his eyes were, too. On top of that, he was moving weirdly, and making weird sounds beyond the feedback noise- like he was trying to breathe.”

“But you don’t know why?”

“Um… no. I mean… the light flickered over the Bonnie sign and went out after it started. Maybe the lights are going wrong and it triggered an audio glitch? I’m not too big on computers, sorry.”

Anna hesitated, mulling over the thought.

Finally, she nodded. “I’ll pass that along. Thanks.”

Honey nodded and headed off to find the boys she seemed to be accompanying.

Now that the area was empty, Anna turned around and looked at Freddy once again.

He was staring at her, no doubt about it.

And…

Even though the animatronics were bolted down in their green rooms to prevent any accidents, one of his legs was off the bolts, and he was standing differently.

With shaky hands, Anna reached for her walkie-talkie.

“Can I get Raha Salib to Rockstar Row? I’ve got a problem.”

-

“Okay, okay. Run the story by me one last time?”

“Freddy was bolted down in his green room, and there were kids in there. But then he just stated glitching. The girl I talked to didn’t know why. She said he just started moving weirdly, making sounds like microphone feedback and breathing, and the lights started flickering. It freaked a bunch of kids out, and I had to tell them it was totally normal.”

“Which is why we shut the curtain and locked the door for his room instead of putting up the out of order sign,” Raha finished, relatching Freddy’s face. She wiped her forehead of the small sweat droplets forming and readjusted her purple hijab.

“I guess I was hoping it is just something small.”

“It is,” She said finally. “Something is taking up too much RAM. That explains the movement and audio malfunction- it was trying to clear up space by shutting down programs, and it looked like it freaked out.”

“Should I call in someone else?”

Raha nodded. “I’m more of a physical technology person than a computer programs one.”

Anna nodded, slipping her walkie-talkie from her belt loop again.

“Can we get Nora down in Parts and Service?”

Static crackled on the other end for a moment, then Nora’s voice came through the staticky speaker.

“What do you need?”

“We’ve got a RAM issue with Freddy, causing audio, movement and eyelight glitches. We need you to work through it if you’re free.”

“Don’t you have Raha down there?”

“She isn’t authorized.”

An audible sigh coughed its way through the speaker.

“On my way right now.”

Almost as soon as Nora turned off the receiver, Anna heard the elevator rumbling, then it dinged as the doors open and Nora stepped out.

Anna smiled. Nora may have been constantly annoyed with the entire job, but she did her best to get things done, even if it was just to stay on top of the stress, making her among the more reliable of Anna’s coworkers.

She sighed again, clearly annoyed, as she grabbed an extension cable to connect Freddy to the computer outside the protective area for maintenance.

“An, do me a favor and open up his stomach hatch.”

Anna nodded, slipping her fingers into the crack and prying it open.

“You can head out, Raha. I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks.”

The door opened as Nora entered, and Raha and Anna stepped out.

Nora emerged a moment later and scanned the computer.

“Okay. We’ve got a glitch that caused him to copy an mp3 file and turn it into an mp4, which started running and took up too much space, I think…”

She frowned. “But the ‘happy birthday’ mp3 is only 20 seconds.”

“And how long is the video?”

Nora hesitated, running the mouse over the video file.

“Oh, damn. No wonder he’s having storage issues. It’s almost twenty minutes! Something is definitely screwed up with the computer.”

Nora clicked to delete the file, then entered the protective area.

“If my suspicions are correct,” Nora explained, “It’ll convert another mp3 into a video when I turn it on. It’ll probably cause another crash, but at least I’ll know the source of the…”

“Nora?”

“What?” Nora sighed.

“The video file just reuploaded.”

“…What??”

Anna pointed to the computer, and Nora hurried out.

“It’s the same ‘happy birthday’ mp4 again,” Anna continued. “We might just have to delete both files and reset the system.”

Nora groaned. “I swear to God, these stupid ‘personality’ chips are the worst fucking thing. Couldn’t they just perform the way they do onstage and have that be enough? An, do me a favor and delete the mp4. I don’t want to screw with the mp3 yet.”

“I’m not authorized either.”

“Do it anyway,” Nora retorted, clearly growing increasingly frustrated. “I’ll have your back if you get in trouble for it.”

“Fine.”

As Anna clicked to delete the video, Nora pressed and held Freddy’s power button, forcing him to shut down.

The computer went black, and in the silence, Anna suddenly became aware of the buzzing of the dim lights, and just how much of the large, dark and musty room she had her back turned to.

A chill ran down her spine, and she tried to will herself not to listen to the quiet rustling and skittering behind her.

She gritted her teeth.

Stop it, Anna.

Nora sighed, brushed her fingers through her side-shaved black hair, and pressed the power button.

And Anna couldn’t help the scream that escaped her as both Freddy and the computer sprang to life, letting out an awful noise. Freddy lurched forward, hitting the floor with an ear-splitting crash, and Nora jumped back, barely avoiding getting crushed.

“Holy shit!” Nora cried. “Holy shit!”

Nora was trembling when she exited the area, and for a moment, Anna saw what had happened.

Freddy was on his hands and knees on the ground, his shoulders heaving intensely like he was trying to breathe, complete with those weird wheezing sounds that had been reported. The echoing sound of Freddy hitting the ground with all his might escaped as the door opened.

Freddy was trembling. He looked horrified, his face twisted into the most unexplainable expression, one that should have not been even possible- eyes too wide, eyebrows too twisted, mouth pulled into a grimace too real. He stared blankly in what seemed to be horror, and it was only as Anna tried to take in his expression more that she realized his eyes were completely white.

But a dark fluid was building up in them, dripping down onto the floor below.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” She admitted. “I don’t know what could possibly be causing this!!”

“Can we at least try to get him back to a functional state?”

“I don’t fucking know!!” Nora barked. “Look at that! What do you expect me to do?!”

“Shit, I- I don’t know…!”

“I need to have him out for now. If he reacts to an emergency restart like this-”

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

“Look, I’ll work overtime tonight and everything-”

“Nono, I’m just worried you’ll have the manager down your throat-”

“Y’know what, Kwento?! FUCK that asshole!!” Nora shouted suddenly. “FUCK him, I can’t stand this! Impossible tasks on even worse time limits to keep the ‘children’ happy, I can’t deal with it! If that dumb son of a bitch wants to haul his own sorry ass down here and fix it himself in the next ten minutes before the kids start getting impatient instead of putting it all on me, I’ll fucking welcome it.”

Anna hesitated, and the two stood in tense silence.

“I can have him presentable before the day’s end, and that’s it. He won’t be even close to functional until I can have some more time to look at it.”

-

“Is Freddy okay?”

Anna heard the question before she processed what she was seeing- almost fifteen kids were crowded around the door to Freddy’s room, and Anna had to push a few away from the door so they couldn’t try to sneak in.

“Freddy is…”

She hesitated.

“Freddy is fine. He’s just not feeling too well. We’ll have him back before the end of the day, but it might be a while before you guys can play with him again.”

“Aw, what?”

The kids groaned and complained, as though expecting her to relent.

One of the kids, however, said nothing, until everyone had stopped whining.

Once they did, he spoke up.

He spoke so quickly, as though he was trying to avoid attention, that it took Anna a moment to process his question.

“Yeah, what IS wrong with him?” Another kid chimed in.

“We…”

Well, she couldn’t say they didn’t know, not if she didn’t want to make this a bigger problem than it needed to be to the kids.

“We think he’s caught a bug that’s overloading his system a little bit,” She said finally.

A few more voices piped up from the crowd.

“A bug? Is he sick?”

“No, it’s a computer term, idiot.”

“Hey,” Anna scolded. “Don’t talk to each other that way. You could think of it as getting sick. There’s something in him that’s making his body do things it shouldn’t. That’s like getting sick, right?”

“See? I was right!”

“No you weren’t, dumbass! She said that to make you feel better!”

“Hey!” Anna repeated. “That is enough. You do not speak to others that way!”

The kid blushed, clearly embarrassed at being called out.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not the one to be apologizing to,” She responded. “Does anyone have any more questions?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Is Freddy turning evil?”

“What? No!”

“My brother said that the animatronics used to be evil!” The little Molly girl added in. “He said they were haunted and they killed people!”

“Well, he was lying. They’re not evil, and they’re not…”

Freddy had been breathing. Really breathing. He wasn’t just moving erratically, it was with a purpose. And those sounds were coming straight from him, not a speaker or a computer, but him.

And those eyes…

“And they’re not haunted,” She finished firmly. “I promise you, everything is okay.”

-

Damn it.

The one thing Nora Pacheco hated more than her job itself was the stress it put on her. She was overworked with ridiculous expectations, and always had so much on her shoulders. Her manager was useless, her bosses were painfully demanding, and the job itself was so intense, she rarely had a second to breathe.

…Really, she didn’t hate anything more than her job.

And yet, here she was, working overtime at almost midnight to fix this stupid bot.

What kind of glitch even was this? It converted an mp3 to a video file, multiplied the size by nearly sixty, and then started running the file unprompted, leading to an overload and partially shutting down the system.

…Leading to him managing to step off his bolts, and breathe, and overflow and spill that weird black fluid…

Was he being hacked?

Scanning through the files for any other signs of any issues with the mp3 and audio play commands.

But the longer she looked and the less she found, the more it began to look like the ‘happy birthday’ mp4 was completely unrelated to the audio file.

And the preview image in the computer wasn’t the simple black or white background Nora would have expected.

It appeared to be… a person. A child, at that.

An image of a child hue-shifted to red.

Stomach twisting, Nora clicked on the video.

It was blood. Not a color shift, it was blood. Blood and brain matter.

The child was dead.

Unable to tear her eyes away from the kid, she barely processed the shaking hands of an older boy at the corners of the screen. The rest of the older boy was off-camera, but she saw his hands. They trembled and rattled like Nora had never seen, and she could hear a voice that must have been his breathing heavily and sniffling, trying not to sob aloud.

A small cry slipped from him, and Nora’s face fell in horror as he took his hands around the child’s face, first gently holding his freckled cheeks, then digging through his curly hair like he was going to try to fix the breakage.

And then he did.

As the boy let out a sob, Nora heard a split second of the nauseating noise that sounded when his hands were pushed into the child’s injured head, and then-

An error tone rang.

Access to this file was not authorized by your administrator.

Clasping her hands around her mouth, Nora leaned forward, trying desperately not to puke.

She didn’t know what she’d just seen; she didn’t even know how to comprehend it.

Was it a threat? A stupid hoax? Maybe just a scene from some horror movie?

She needed to make sense of this. She needed to understand it. She needed to fix it. She needed help.

She needed to go home.

Freddy blinked, turning to her with an almost saddened expression.

“Alright, Freddy,” She managed, trying to hold back her fear. “What is that? What’s going on?”

She didn’t expect him to answer, of course. She was just trying to keep herself from giving in to her terror. Maybe talking would help her through it, for some reason.

Freddy wasn’t even supposed to be able to answer. She was just running test commands on him. He wasn’t able to hear, process or respond to anything.

But he did.

He cocked his head, and twisted his plastic facial plate. His eyebrows turned upward, his mouth shut tight, and his eyelids turned in, making him look almost hurt.

And he spoke with a voice deeper and raspier than normal.

“I… am not… me.”

-

“Alright, we got a creepy idle mode malfunction from a RAM overload, responding like he’s in idle mode in test mode, fluid leakage, audio glitches, and a video hacked into his system?”

“Not hacked,” Nora corrected. “It was from our network.”

Mark Cho, the tall man who had now taken Nora’s place at the computer, shrugged. “It could’ve been a hack anyway. If they got onto the network first, the video would have been sourced from the same place as all his other files.”

“Fine. Then yes, you’ve got all of it. He said ‘I am not me’ when I asked aloud what was going on. I guess he was trying to cycle through his responses and ended up with that. I think the problem is that video, but…” Nora shuddered.

Mark glanced over at her.

“But every time we try to delete it… it just… uploads again,” She finished. “My… my hypothesis was that it was some sort of glitch converting the mp3 file to a video, but… that video was not his birthday protocol. I don’t know what it was, but…”

“From what you told me, it sounds like it came from a horror movie,” Mark suggested.

“Mark, it was twenty minutes! What movie would have a quarter of its runtime dedicated to that?!”

“Final Destination?”

“You’re not funny, Mark.”

“What about Saw?”

“Cut it out.”

Mark snickered. “Sorry.”

“Right,” Nora sighed. “For the record, I’m not saying I think it was a real kid dying. I just… it’s seriously horrific. And I didn’t see nearly the whole thing. I’m telling you, if it was a hacker, that’s the smallest problem. I can’t for the life of me figure out where they found that footage.”

“Do you think it’s a ghost?”

Nora hesitated. That was about the last thing she’d been expecting to hear, but-

No.

“Cut the crap, Mark.”

“I’m being serious.”

“No, you’re not, you dick.”

“I’m dead serious. It could’ve been a message. It reminds me of that old story of the bite of 1983? They could be trying to stir up crap from the past.”

“Mark, you asshole, that’s not a ghost.”

“Sure it is.”

Nora groaned. As kind as Mark could be, he was also a smartass, and he refused to just speak straight most of the time. He always insisted on joking instead of telling it like it was, and Nora could barely stand it.

“Okay, say it is this ‘ghost’ of yours. How do we get it to stop? Whoever wants to remind everyone of this weird ‘null’ past, how do we get them to cut it out?”

Finally seeming to take it seriously, Mark frowned. “Not sure.”

“I guess we could isolate the file and clear the commands making it take up so much space,” Nora suggested. “Will that keep the ‘ghost’ at bay?”

“I mean…” Mark shrugged. “It’s worth a try. If we can clear that extra data, we can probably get him back in working order.”

“Didn’t answer my question.”

Mark grinned, and Nora rolled her eyes.

But his smile faded.

“Nora, the video deleted just fine once it was in a different folder. Did you not try that?”

“Look, I tried to delete it and it just fucking reuploaded,” Nora shot back. “I don’t know what was going on, but it wasn’t deleting, okay?”

Mark frowned. “It’s fine now.”

“Okay, well it wasn’t last night! None of it makes sense… I’m not making this up, Mark. I’m not crazy.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“I’m serious, I’m not!!”

“I know!” Mark raised his hands in surrender. “Look, I can handle the rest of this. I don’t think you’re crazy, you just need a break.”

Nora sighed.

She knew Mark was right, but admitting that would feel like, ironically, admitting she was losing her mind.

But she knew she wasn’t.

She knew what she’d seen.

“I am not me.”

She knew this was real.

“Fine, I’ll take a damn break,” She said finally. “But if you come out of this thinking I’m insane, I’m quitting.”

Mark rolled his eyes.

Nora glanced at Freddy again.

Even though she hadn’t moved, he turned and stared back.

…His face didn’t look quite right.

[cassidyafton]

please don't go, i'll eat you whole

Summary: That mask hadn't lasted long, nor had the next one, or the next one. Although she both looked and felt right when she had her mask, that wasn't enough for her to be able to take care of it. It wasn't enough for Jax in particular, always the bully of the group, to show any kind of restraint and let her keep it. It was probably the reason, in fact, that Jax had always gone to take it away from her, stealing and breaking and trashing it in every way he could think of. And yet, every time, it hurt.

Pomni had settled into the circus fast, despite her rocky start- it was surprising, really, how as soon as Kaufmo was gone, then came Pomni. Like clockwork, in a sense. The circus replaced what it had lost.

And every day, Gangle had a new comedy mask.

When Gangle entered the Circus with no recollection of her name or face, she had been handed a mask. Caine had smiled widely- or, at least, it had seemed that he had, it was hard to tell what constituted a smile when his whole face was just a mouth- and said in that ever-cheerful announcer voice that we're here to have fun and there was no need for tears. It made Gangle think she wasn't supposed to be this way, but hey, that wasn't a new feeling.

That mask hadn't lasted long, nor had the next one, or the next one. Although she both looked and felt right when she had her mask, that wasn't enough for her to be able to take care of it. It wasn't enough for Jax in particular, always the bully of the group, to show any kind of restraint and let her keep it. It was probably the reason, in fact, that Jax had always gone to take it away from her, stealing and breaking and trashing it in every way he could think of. And yet, every time, it hurt.

Pomni had settled into the circus fast, despite her rocky start- it was surprising, really, how as soon as Kaufmo was gone, then came Pomni. Like clockwork, in a sense. The circus replaced what it had lost.

And every day, Gangle had a new comedy mask.

Kaufmo’s funeral had been hard on everyone. No one had seen it coming, save only for Kinger, which was a thought that sent chills down Gangle’s spine- maybe because it raised the question of how many abstractions one had to see before they could identify the signs, or maybe because it meant they were there to be seen, but no one did. But Gangle didn’t dare think it was anywhere near the hardest on her. Everyone had struggled. Everyone had mourned. It was a stretch to say anyone liked holding them, despite how Ragatha had explained it.

But only Gangle stared down that framed drawing of herself and Kaufmo hung up on her wall every night and every morning.

She was used to crying at night, really- it was a sort of self-soothing thing for her. But it happened every night now that it wasn’t just crying, but stumbling and losing to that awful, pressing grief all over again, pushing her down until she couldn’t get back up. It had happened for a while. Sometimes when she slept with Pomni, it was better, but she knew the jester didn't like to be touched, so Gangle would never, ever press her luck. She couldn't risk pushing away anyone else.

After a while, she would've liked to say that she was used to it, but there she was, eyes locked on that same picture with a whole new wave of sorrow about to crash over her. Kaufmo had been so happy. Always filling his role as a clown, doing his best to make everyone laugh and smile no matter how many times he was told that he didn't need to do that. Of all the people to give up like that, Kaufmo had just never seemed so far gone. But there she was, without her friend.

It was too early in the day for the new comedy mask to spawn in. Gangle wasn't sure what Caine did at night, but the smiling sun hadn't risen, and that meant the circus was more or less defunct and no comedy mask was ready for her to put on.

That was okay. Maybe she could... start on breakfast instead. Get some energy, even if it was only emotional. She'd need plenty of that anyway, right?

She turned her gaze away from the picture, ignoring the urge to even mentally apologize to Kaufmo for ignoring him yet again, and crept out of her bedroom toward the circus's strange approximation of a kitchen as quietly as she could to avoid disturbing anyone else. Some of the circus members, she'd learned, were light sleepers (though Zooble was always chill with Gangle about being woken up, Gangle was pretty sure it didn't bother them any less when she did it than anyone else) and others were easy to concern once they were awake.

One benefit to not having a comedy mask yet was that Gangle could be as graceless as her spindly body wanted and not risk breaking it.

The kitchen, like the rest of the circus, was mostly composed of and walled-in by a series of large, foam blocks like you might see in a play place for toddlers. The furniture was colorful, but all of the kitchenware itself was realistic- the sink was silver, the fridge white, and the silverware was cold in her hands like it would be in reality. It was grounding, in a way. Even if the way that the textures of the milk she poured into her cereal bowl interacted was obviously not real, some of it felt that way. She'd long since learned that was about as much as she could ask for here.

About the time that she settled down into a seat at the table, she heard footsteps. Shoulders tensing, she didn't dare turn, bracing herself to silently bear Jax's harassment.

Instead, a hand rested carefully on her back, and the chair next to her was pulled out.

"Couldn't sleep?" Pomni asked carefully, with a soft smile on her face.

Gangle shook her head, glancing back down at her bowl of cereal. She technically had more or less indefinite time to eat it, it was incapable of getting soggy, but there was still a funny sort of humanity in the way she felt a rush to eat it before it spoiled. Still, she just fidgeted with her hands instead.

"You..." Pomni held her mouth open for a moment, like she was struggling to figure out what to say, torn between two things- both of which Gangle was sure she didn't really want to hear. Eventually, she took a breath and started again. "You could've come woken me up, if you wanted. I know... sometimes my room is easier to be in... than yours, that is."

"I didn't want to bother you," Gangle mumbled.

"It wouldn't bother me at all."

Pomni placed one hand on the table, like an offering. Gangle, better than anyone, knew Pomni's boundaries around touch, but there was one thing that she knew Pomni trusted those she cared about with, and that was her hands. When Gangle needed comfort, that was the first thing Pomni offered: she held her hands, or rubbed her back, anything that kept the touch on Pomni's end all centered around her hands. It was rare for them to hug, or cuddle, or do anything "typical" of couples, but it was how they were. It was how Pomni expressed her love, and Gangle was glad to accept that. She took Pomni's hand and squeezed it gently.

"Bad dream?" Pomni asked.

Gangle shook her head.

"Was it the picture again?"

She didn't nod, but she knew Pomni could tell by the way she bristled. She didn't want to hear that she could take the picture down. She didn't want to take the picture down, it wasn't right. Kaufmo was her friend. She wasn't supposed to lose him like this. He wasn't supposed to just be a picture on the wall, a group of eyes in the cellar.

"Do you... wanna talk about it?"

Gangle shook her head again.

"Okay." Pomni nodded. "Okay." She squeezed Gangle's hand back. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," Gangle admitted. "I wish I did."

Pomni stood up, and for a second, Gangle tensed again, wondering if she'd done it this time, if she'd driven Pomni away for real, and then, she felt Pomni wrap her arms around her and lean against her from behind.

"You don't have to," she said softly. "I don't have any answers yet either."

Gangle relaxed just a bit, gently gripping Pomni's arms as they wrapped around her small body.

"I hope you're not still looking for answers about getting out," Gangle pressed, and this time, she felt Pomni tense.

"I..."

Pomni sighed, leaning a bit further into Gangle, pressing her head against Gangle's tragedy mask.

"I don't know what I'm looking for, Gangle." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to get us out of here. All of us. I want to be your girlfriend in the real world. This... this isn't the real me. I want you to know the real me."

Gangle frowned. Pomni was stubborn sometimes, she had learned that. She wouldn't dare say she was looking for an exit to Gangle's face, but she was sure Pomni was, despite how she danced around it and replaced tangible desires with dreams of an outside world Gangle, admittedly, still indulged in to keep herself anchored.

The truth was, it did sound nice. Sometimes, when Gangle was drawing, she caught herself creating human figures- girls with short black bangs and big, round eyes who smiled like Pomni did, with their eyebrows creased like they were always nervous, who tied their short hair back in ponytails like she'd seen Pomni try to do out of force of habit before. It was rare, but it happened. In the midst of all the drawings Gangle would never show anyone, it happened that Gangle drew Pomni the way Pomni wanted to be seen.

"I like this you," Gangle said finally. "I don't want you to change."

Pomni hesitated.

"I know you do." With a small kiss pressed to the top of Gangle's head, Pomni seemed to concede, at least a little. "I just want more for you. You know what we could do if we get out of here?"

The answer I try not to think about it was on Gangle's tongue, but it wasn't really true. She did think about it, and she rarely tried to stop herself.

"Kinger used to say... something about losing the people you love because you didn't care enough." Gangle turned to look at Pomni finally. "Is that what you're scared of?"

Pomni's jaw visibly clenched. She looked away, then nodded. Her hands lifted from Gangle and wrapped around her own chest, clutching herself in a sort of hug.

"Almost everyone who was here is gone," she said. "I don't want anyone else to go, but- I especially don't want you to, and especially so if there's something I can do, I mean-" she looked at Gangle, as if for some kind of validation. "I know you feel helpless, Gangle. I don't want it to get so bad that it drives you crazy, when there's something I could do for you that I'm not. I mean, I hear you crying at night and I..."

She stopped. Shut her mouth tight and looked away.

"Sorry. I... I don't mean to be eavesdropping, or- anything like that. But it makes me worry. A lot. I need you to be okay, Gangle. I really do."

Gangle looked down. The truth was, she really wasn't okay. She hadn't been since she'd first entered the circus, since that very first comedy mask had crumbled to pieces when Jax had grabbed it from her face. It'd only been made worse by Kaufmo's abstraction. She was sure that Pomni knew it, it was written all over her face every second of every day, but she still hoped, and still...

"I... I'm not," She managed after a minute or so of silence.

Pomni softened, reaching out for Gangle again.

"Gangle... I know it's not much, and it doesn't really fix anything, but... do you want to come sleep in my room with me?"

Gangle nodded.

"I know it's a lot," Pomni said as she helped Gangle up from the chair, hardly even reacting as Gangle fell into her, aside from a slow, eventual return of her arms around Gangle's body. "But you can always come to me if you're overwhelmed. You don't need to be alone anymore. I- I know you know I understand how you feel, and- I'm here for you. I promise."

Gangle wiped away her tears again.

When Gangle entered the Circus with no recollection of her name or face, she had been handed a mask. Caine had smiled widely- or, at least, it had seemed that he had, it was hard to tell what constituted a smile when his whole face was just a mouth- and said in that ever-cheerful announcer voice that we're here to have fun and there was no need for tears. It made Gangle think she wasn't supposed to be this way, but hey, that wasn't a new feeling.

That mask hadn't lasted long, nor had the next one, or the next one. Although she both looked and felt right when she had her mask, that wasn't enough for her to be able to take care of it. It wasn't enough for Jax in particular, always the bully of the group, to show any kind of restraint and let her keep it. It was probably the reason, in fact, that Jax had always gone to take it away from her, stealing and breaking and trashing it in every way he could think of. And yet, every time, it hurt.

She held Pomni tightly as they walked. One day, Pomni wouldn't be there for her. One day, Pomni's promise that I'll get you out of here- a promise Gangle had noticed Pomni had refrained from saying tonight- was going to drive her mad, and there would be nothing left of her but sharp, black edges and pulsating eyes upon eyes. One day, Pomni would be gone, and Gangle would have to watch as the one person who had mattered to her more than anyone else who had come and gone before would disappear, and like clockwork, the circus would replace what it had lost with a new head on the chopping block.

And every day, Gangle had a new comedy mask.

[cassidyafton]

For the Snakes and the People They Bite

Summary: Trinity goes to someone else for help before she goes to Mr. Peterson, and Finch comes back for a friend when no one else will.

It's about 9pm when Finch hears a knock at the door.

The house is quiet, which is unusual for her family- usually, at least her father is bustling around, talking to himself or on the phone about his next meeting and asking her where on earth is your mother- but it's the case tonight that only Finch is home, and the TV is the only noise at the moment. She turns it down, just to make sure she heard what she thought she did.

It's supposed to be another hour before her dad is back from his meeting.

The knock repeats, more frantic, and then again, and again and again.

"Hello?" A familiar voice cries from the other side. "Finch? I need help! Are you there?"

Finch glances back at the door.

"Uh, yeah?" She answers suspiciously. "Give me a minute."

"Please hurry," The voice begs. "This is serious."

"Alright, alright."

Rolling her eyes, Finch opens the door, and suddenly any and all expectations fly out the window as she takes in the sight before her.

She can't help but stare, from the other side of the door.

There stands Trinity Bales, shaking in her fancy blue mary janes.

It's a sight that makes her want to laugh- Trinity, usually the most composed and rational of her friend group, shaking like a leaf, looking to be on the verge of tears, pounding at Finch's door like an impatient child and begging for help all the while. But she doesn't. She likes Trinity, a fact that sets her apart from the rest of the Inventors Club. That spurs her, for some stupid reason, to not laugh, but instead to frown.

"What the heck happened to you?" She asks.

"I- m-my friends- they- they're-" Trinity stumbles over her words more than Finch has ever heard. Usually, Trinity seems confident, lacking so much as a nervous stutter, but here she is, barely able to get a word out, let alone a sentence. "Everyone, they- I-I don't even know how to explain it-"

"I can tell," Finch deadpans, her eyes darting back to the door. It would be easy to shut the door on her and put an end to this nonsense before she started sounding like Nicky. She snaps her fingers instead. "Chop chop, Bales."

"I..." She takes a breath. "I lost contact with my friends. W-we were ambushed, and I..." She blinks, scrunching up her entire face in a way that Finch might describe as cute, if Trinity were a little kid. "I think they might've died."

"Died?" Finch echoes. "What the hell were you guys even doing that could've killed anyone?"

Trinity tugs at her skirt, balling the pink fabric up in her hands.

"I don't need you to believe me," she says, as if that answers anything. "I just need you to help."

"You're not doing a good job selling it."

"Someone set my house on fire on purpose."

Finch blinks.

"...What?"

"They've been- breaking into my house, chasing me and my friends around, and I think... they tried to kill me." Trinity shuffles around in her pockets, then pulls out a coin. "Finch, have you ever seen one of these?"

Finch scans the shape of the small coin between Trinity's two fingers. It's oxidized and looks almost moldy, but it's an obvious gold color, and an apple is printed on one side.

"Oh, sure. Back when the Golden Apple Amusement Park was-" She narrows her eyes. "What the heck does this have to do with anything?"

"They told me if I lost the coin, I lost my life, and I lost it when they set fire to my house. And now- now they're after me and my friends, and I have to do something- if there's any semblance of hope that any of my friends are still alive, I have to do something for them, but I- I can't do it alone. Nicky was unresponsive, and the only other person who would believe me- I-I just can't do it alone, Finch. I don't want to be left to my last resort. I need you to help me."

A few moments pass, and Trinity takes a shaky breath.

"Please."

Finch scans Trinity up and down. 

"You make it really hard to take you seriously, Bales," she says finally, and almost winces at the way that the tiny glimmer of hope in Trinity's eyes seems to die right then and there.

"I don't need you to take me seriously, Finch, I just-" She pauses, then lets out a sharp breath. "So you're not interested in helping me."

"It's not that I don't wanna help you," Finch says. "The problem here is that you think that this little Golden Apple token is going to- what? Kill you?" She snickers.

"Finch, stop it! It's not funny!"

"You sound like Sick Nick is what I'm getting at. If anything you were saying made sense, I'd totally help out. But you sound psychotic. Your friends are fine, okay? I'll bet money on it." She eyes the coin again. "Or I'll bet that. You need to stop getting wrapped up in all of Nicky's craziness, and then maybe you wouldn't be scared of every little-"

"Forget I said anything," Trinity interrupts. "I'll go talk to Peterson."

Finch blinks. More of the crazy talk, huh? Maybe whatever Sick Nick has is spreading to Trinity. It's a shame, too- she's usually the smartest one of the group. "Girl- in jail?"

"If you see any of the others alive, don't tell them about it," Trinity continues, ignoring Finch. "They wouldn't understand either." She narrows her eyes. "But y'know what? At least they'd try."

Finch steps closer to Trinity, suddenly feeling challenged, or maybe looked down on. "Really? You think you can get me in on your delusions if you call me chicken?"

"I don't care if you help me or not, Finch." Trinity scowls. "Sorry I still wanted to think there was any shred of decency in you after all the crap you pulled."

"That's rich coming from you," Finch shoots back. "Didn't you just tell me you got your friends killed?"

"I didn't-!"

Trinity does that same odd, long blink again, and this time, it clicks in Finch's mind that she's fighting back tears. The anger in her expression dies.

"Think whatever you want," she says finally. "I don't care. My friends matter more than you do right now. I know that's a foreign concept to you."

With that, Trinity Bales reaches for the door.

"Wh-whatever," Finch scoffs. "Go cry to that sicko your dumb friends put behind bars. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to-"

The door slams shut before Finch can even finish her sentence, and then she starts to really frown again.

She likes Trinity, at least more than the rest of her dumb little group, and she really doesn't feel good about what just happened for that reason. Not just because she couldn't get the last word in, but because maybe... maybe Trinity really needed help. Underneath all of the obvious crazy talk, of course, maybe Trinity was reaching out to Finch as a friend, and maybe Finch just did the only thing she's good at and pushed her away without reason. Maybe Finch shouldn't have...

Well, whatever. She sits back down in front of the TV, opting not to think about it. It doesn't matter. Trinity won't tell anyone she did that, and that means no screaming matches with her dad will come from it. If she did something wrong, whatever. If Trinity hates her now, nothing bad will come of that.

...Except for, well. Trinity hating her.

That's fine.

-

Trinity hasn't stopped trembling. Not since a sudden flare of lightning knocked out the power to the building. It was dark when she first came to talk to Mr. Peterson, but it's even darker now. No light comes in from outside, just the occasional flash.

She's not sure how long it's been. Days, at least. The cloaked men who came to remove the body of the crow- or maybe raven-faced person Mr. Peterson had killed with his bare hands had just looked at her, then moved right along like she wasn't even there, and no one else has come by since. She wonders, briefly, if anyone is even looking for her out there. If there are missing posters up, if her parents have tied themselves in knots calling her name, if the students at school talk about her. Or maybe it's like it was with Nicky, or even worse.

She shakes her head, trying to avoid the thought that people think things are better off with her. Never mind that her friends do. That's...

Never mind. She shakes her head again. Never mind. Never mind. Never mind. No more elaboration, no more justifying what happened. Never mind.

She can hear the mumbling of other prisoners in the cells to her left and right. Despite her best efforts to tune them out, she swears she can hear them whispering her name. It's fine. That's fine. She's not...

She's not scared.

The shaking isn't because she's scared. The heavy breathing doesn't mean she's scared. The tears don't mean she's scared. She did the right thing giving up to someone else who could stop the cult. There's nothing more to do. She can't help anyone anymore. Maybe that's why she's crying.

Or maybe it's both.

Her eyes hurt so badly. Every day is a new grief, a new regret. Some part of her still longing to get out. She doesn't know that Mr. Peterson will actually stop the cult. She doesn't know that he won't hurt her friends. She doesn't know what's going on out there at all. If she could just get out of here, then maybe...

Maybe what, Trinity? The voice in her head mocks. You could let down your friends again? You been missing dragging them along on your little death marches?

She wipes at her eyes. This is for the best, isn't it? Didn't she prove to herself that she had nowhere to go, nothing to do anymore?

Another flash of lightning hits, and Trinity sniffs and narrows her eyes. It wasn't lightning that knocked out the power. The light was smaller than that, longer lasting.

A chill runs down her spine as she scans the bloodied walls for anything that could bring her safety. What took out the power? Is something coming to hurt her?

Despite herself, she tenses, ready to defend herself. Scared to die, like it matters.

Something small rattles its way down the hallway and her focus shifts to what appears to be a small nut on the ground, rolling toward her. That's good, a part of her still guided by her childhood therapist encourages. Focus on that. Focus on that, and let it break the thought spiral.

So she does. For just a second of comfort, she focuses on the mystery nut and doesn't even notice the figure approaching in the darkness, the jingling of something metal in their hands as they approach or the rattling of maybe more nuts on their person.

Another flash of lightning, and their figure goes slack.

Maybe unable to help herself, Finch stares, jaw hanging slightly open, from the other side of the door.

Trinity knows how she looks. Shaking in the center of a cell covered in dry blood, her black hair is a mess, her eyes are bloodshot, and the area around them is red and puffy. She hasn't changed her clothes in days, and her outfit is dirty and wet with sweat. She's bitten her nails to bits out of stress, and the bags under her eyes have never been darker. How long has it been since she last slept? Really, meaningfully slept?

Still, it sort of hurts seeing Finch stare at her like she's a freak show.

She grits her teeth. After how things went when she looked for help from Finch before, she shouldn't be surprised. Even despite the sympathy stirring in Finch's green eyes...

"What do you want?" She wipes at her eyes again, embarrassed to let Finch see she was crying. "You were right. I know. You don't need to come all this way to tell me."

Finch blinks dumbly as Trinity's eyes adjust to her figure in the darkness, putting the slingshot that Trinity has to assume she used to shoot the nut down the hallway in a pocket. "N-no, I, uh-"

A smug smile returns to her face as she lifts up the keyring in one hand- the same one Trinity had taken to let Mr. Peterson out.

"I got you something, Bales."

Trinity glances at the keyring, and for a second, she feels hopeful.

But this is for the best.

She looks back down at the floor.

"How are m- the others?" She asks gently.

"Oh, y-y'know," Finch's nonchalance falters for just a moment along with her voice. "Sick Nick's in the hospital. Last I heard, they were looking at putting him in a nuthouse, but as usual, no one can find his parents. Everyone else is getting by-" She looks down at Trinity- "Except for you."

"And my parents?"

"Uh..." Finch bristles, and Trinity's stomach drops. Are they okay? Does she want to hear they're okay? Would she rather they be stressing themselves into going gray over her? What if it's not just that? What if they're...

"They're... fine," she finishes. "They're worried about you, obviously."

"Oh."

"But that's why I'm here." She spins the keys around her finger, still looking as flippant as ever. "I caught wind of your whole disappearance, and I knew I had to do something to help you out. Know which one of these is for you?"

Trinity steps back. Sinks down against the wall. "Don't worry about it," she mumbles. "I'm fine in here."

Again, Finch's casual persona falters. Sympathy stirs in her eyes again, then she furrows her brow in judgment and disgust. "What are you talking about?"

"Finch, what am I supposed to do when I get out of here?" Trinity practically demands. "Just get sent away to a stupid boarding school? For what?" She sighs. "There's no point in leaving. Just let Peterson handle what I was trying to, and-" Despite her voice briefly breaking, her resolve strengthens. "And they can hate me forever, but my- but the others will be safe. And as long as that's the case, I did the right thing. So- so leave me alone."

Finch's eyes narrow. "If you keep talking like that, I'm really gonna leave you in here, y'know. If you really don't want out, I'll just leave the way I came."

"Fine!" Trinity cries. "Go! I know you want to be the good guy, but I don't have anything to go back to. I can't hurt anyone in here, and even if I wouldn't hurt anyone out there, my friends..."

God. She can feel her eyes filling with tears just from saying it. My friends. That's what they were. Nicky, Enzo, Ivan, Delroy, even Maritza, despite everything- they mattered to her. Not that Finch or anyone else or even any of them cared.

"...I ruined everything."

It's hard not to crumble at the admission. I'm sorry, she wants to beg, that part of her replaying the scene of Nicky's hospitalization over and over cries, Nicky, I'm sorry. I'll do better this time. I'll be the friend you need, I promise. Please let me try again.

It's hard to tell the difference at first, but as the tears begin to fall and her shoulders begin to heave with silent sobs, Trinity realizes she's not hearing the rattling of keys anymore, but of those little nuts in Finch's bag.

Then one of them clocks her right between the eyes.

"OW!" Trinity lifts her hands to the freshly sore spot on the bridge of her nose and looks up at Finch, suddenly snapped out of her spiral.

Finch's casual demeanor is gone. Her expression is one of compassion. She lets go of the slingshot in her hands and puts it back in her pocket.

"What the hell was that for?" Trinity hisses.

"I came all this way for you for a reason," Finch answers flatly, pulling out a folded missing poster from another pocket. Trinity glances at it. It's her own picture- her school picture from this year. "None of those stupid cowards you call friends are coming for you, so someone had to."

"Don't talk about my friends that way."

"They didn't come for you," Finch repeats. "Everyone was fine with whatever was happening to you just happening. And y'know what that is?"

"...What?"

"That's bull." Finch's stance grows firmer, her eyes narrowing again. "I don't know what happened, but between all this friend group drama of yours and your story about getting sent off to boarding school and this, I think you've been punished plenty."

"No, I..."

"Shut it." Finch holds out the keyring. "Which key is yours?"

Finally, Trinity forces herself to her feet and grabs one key from the ring. "It's this one."

"Took you long enough." Finch chuckles, and that nonchalance Trinity is used to returns as she unlocks and opens the cell door. "C'mon. Let's get out of this creepy ass place."

Trinity nods, wiping at her eyes again.

"Chin up, Bales," Finch says, flicking at Trinity's chin as if to redirect her behavior. "You're not a hopeless person."

Well, Trinity was damn near it, but she doesn't feel like correcting Finch right now.

What can she do without her friends? She doesn't know.

"I don't think I'll believe you about whatever nonsense you try to throw at me," Finch warns, "But I don't want you in the nuthouse too. I'll help you if you really need it."

[cassidyafton]

I Was Never Here

Summary: The immediate aftermath of Nicky's kidnapping.

"Hey! Is anyone there?"

Trinity's voice comes out far too loudly between rapid breaths. Please, she practically prays. Anyone. Anyone tell me what to do now.

Nicky is gone. She knows her parents wouldn't believe her. No one would. No one else would believe her if she said that Nicky was gone, but oh God, he really is gone. She would hold her breath, but she thinks that runs the risk of knocking her out. She can barely get enough air to begin with. She can feel her head spinning from it as she tugs at her hair, trying her absolute best to stay occupied as silence comes from the other line.

After a few excruciating moments, someone finally answers.

"Trinity? What's wrong?"

"Enzo!" Trinity cries. "He's gone!"

Some shuffling comes from the other line, indistinct chatter between Enzo and who Trinity assumes must be Maritza.

"Hello?" She demands. "Enzo? This is serious! Please!"

"Sorry, but- you're not making sense," Enzo replies. "What's going on?"

"He's gone. Nicky- M-Mr. Peterson took him!"

"...You're sure?"

"I'm sure! I saw it! I-I don't know what to do! My parents wouldn't believe me if I told them, and- you're the only person I knew would listen, Enzo!"

"I-I'll try to-" A bit more shuffling, and Trinity hears Enzo say something that sounds like what does that even mean? before he puts the phone to his ear again. "I'll try to get Ivan. You call 911, and I'll be over in two minutes."

"You'd better not get him killed, Trinity!" Maritza yells, just loud enough for the words to come through to Trinity. Before she can answer, she hears a beep, and the call ends.

Okay. Okay. Call 911. She can do that. She can call 911. They'll listen- they have to. It's their job to. Maybe Mr. Peterson was lying, just trying to scare them away from talking. Right? That has to be the case, doesn't it?

Her fingers shake as she punches in the number. "Come on, come on, please... please! Please pick up!"

"911, what's your emergency?" A woman's voice on the other line drones.

"He took him!"

"Took who?"

"My friend." Trinity tries her best to slow her breathing, still tugging at her hair with her free hand. "He's trapped in the basement!"

"Try to remain calm," The woman says gently. "Whose basement is he in?"

"Mr. Peterson's house, on Friendly Court- hurry! Please!"

"Peterson?" The compassion in the woman's voice drops. "Is this another crank call?"

"No!" Trinity begs. "I'm being serious! Please, help!"

She can practically hear the dispatcher rolling her eyes. "I'll send someone to come take a look."

Trinity whines as the call ends again, dropping her phone on her bed as she begins to pace. Nicky is gone. Her parents won't believe her- would they even care? The dispatcher didn't believe her. She can only hope the cops will see something- anything that will prove she was telling the truth. They need to bring back Nicky. They need to.

Her door opens.

"H-hey, Trinity. I couldn't get anyone else to come, sorry."

Trinity sighs. It's better now that she's not alone. Someone believes her. Someone cares. Despite herself, she smiles. "That's okay, Enzo. Thanks for coming."

Enzo chuckles nervously, face suddenly red. "Ivan and my sister think I'm nuts for coming back here, but... guess we can't all be brave, huh?"

He jumps as sirens begin to approach, and Trinity turns her attention from him back to the window.

"Gotcha," She whispers, staring down Mr. Peterson's figure through the window as he runs into the house, the cop not too far behind him.

"We did it!"

Enzo raises one hand for a high-five, which Trinity is vaguely aware of as she throws her arms around him instead.

"There's no way he's getting out of this!"

But as the cop leaves the house, a bag over his shoulder, the hope in Trinity's chest begins to die.

"Is Nicky in that bag?" Enzo asks hesitantly, like he's afraid to speak it into reality.

"No, I recognize that bag from the graveyard. It's... filled with coins." Trinity frowns. "Maybe the cop's collecting evidence?"

"Or maybe Mr. Peterson paid him off, like a bribe!"

"In quarters?"

"...Maybe he loves arcades?"

It's a funny thought, but Trinity doesn't laugh. There's no room to find humor in anything right now. Nicky is gone and the police did nothing. They've come and gone, and Nicky is still in the basement. 

"I don't get it," she says finally, turning away from the window and sinking down against the wall. "Why didn't he arrest Mr. Peterson?"

"We're in serious trouble if we can't trust the police," Enzo muses as he watches the car speed away.

"You kids have no idea what you're messing with."

They both jump at the sound of the walkie-talkie on Trinity's bedside table. Suddenly, she feels sick. Her room feels intruded upon, like he's right there with them.

"Keep pushing... you'll end up like your friend."

Trinity glances at Enzo.

"I think we need to tell Nicky's parents."

-

"Hello?"

The woman on the other line barely gets a word out before Trinity hurries to speak. "Is this Luanne Roth?"

"Yes... who is this?" Luanne answers cautiously.

"Trinity Bales. Your- your new neighbor? Nicky's... classmate?"

"Oh, Trinity!" She can practically hear Luanne light up. "How's your family? Sorry we haven't formally met yet- hopefully Nicky's not giving you too much trouble. If you need anything, you should talk to him."

"I... no, I need-"

"Now's not a great time is the thing. We're out right now visiting-"

"Nicky was kidnapped!"

Silence.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nicky was kidnapped," Trinity repeats. "He was at my house earlier, and when he left..."

"Oh, don't you worry about him, honey," Luanne sighs. "I know you're new, and maybe you don't know this about him, but Nicky... it's hard to keep him at home. I'm disappointed to hear he does this even when we're not home."

"No, he didn't just leave, he-"

She glances at Enzo, briefly.

"I- I know he didn't just leave, Mrs. Roth. I think you need to come home. He needs help."

"Trinity... I appreciate that you worry so much about Nicky, but I'm sure this isn't what it seems to you. He's got some-"

"I saw it happen!" Trinity practically begs. "Please, I called 911, but one is listening, and I'm-"

She swallows, wrapping a lock of black hair around her finger.

"I'm really scared for him," She finishes, her voice as small and meek as she can make it. She feels a bit bad, trying so hard to make Luanne worried, but it's all she can do. If no one worries, no one does anything to help.

Luanne sighs again.

“Call the police non-emergency line for me this time, okay?” She says gently. “Tell them Nicky is missing. Jay and I will be home tomorrow if no one finds him before then. I promise he’s gonna be okay.”

Trinity glances out the window. Part of her wishes she could believe that as much as his parents seem to.

“Thanks, Mrs. Roth,” she says anyway with a nod.

“Any time, Trinity. Don’t worry too much about him. Oh, and tell your parents I said hi, will you?”

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

She looks up with a sigh as the line goes dead, and Enzo winces.

“Yeah, I… probably should’ve warned you…” He absently scratches the back of his neck. “Nicky’s not the most, uh, stationary person?”

Trinity bites her tongue. Stationary? She wants to yell. What kind of a stupid way to say it is that?

“What I mean by that is, uh… his parents… they’re kind of used to it.” He’s fidgeting with his hands now. “N-not that they’re-! Y’know, anything to run away from, he just- well, not that he’s-”

“You’re not making any sense!” She blurts.

“I just mean that Nicky does… tend to run away? They probably just assumed you didn’t know that about him and figured he was kidnapped because he disappeared.”

“I didn’t just assume. I saw Peterson take him!” She points a finger at Enzo. “You heard him.”

“No, no, I believe you, Trinity!” Enzo laughs nervously. “Of course I believe you.”

Trinity sighs. “I even told them I saw it happen. I don’t understand why no one is taking this seriously.”

Enzo sits down on Trinity’s bed and looks at her sympathetically, patting the spot to his side as an offering for her to sit down too.

“I seriously think I’m gonna be sick,” she mumbles as she curls up on her bed next to Enzo, knees to her chest.

Enzo winces, moving just the slightest bit back. “Do, uh, you need me to get your parents?”

Trinity shakes her head. “This is just making me feel like I’m going crazy. You… you heard him, right? Mr. Peterson?”

“Yeah.” Enzo pushes his glasses up. “Yeah, I did.”

“If not for that, I’d think I’d just imagined the whole thing. I mean- how messed up is it that he was right? That- that he said I could tell whoever I wanted and no one would believe me, and he was right?”

Enzo nods.

“You should, uh… at least call the non-emergency line, right?”

Trinity nods. Part of her wants to lean against Enzo and close her eyes, hide from everything that just happened. She reaches for her phone instead.

-

Unsurprisingly, no one has found Nicky by the next day, so around 3:00 that afternoon, there's a knock at the door that they hear from the living room just as Trinity's mom goes to tell her to stop biting your nails, honey.

"I'll be right back." Trinity's mom stands up from the couch. "You'd better not be chewing your fingers off when I get back."

Trinity rolls her eyes, leaning over the arm of the couch to watch as her mom opens the door. There's a woman standing on the other side, dressed all posh with her black hair looking freshly combed, and wow, does that woman have Nicky's eyes.

"Oh!" Trinity's mom smiles. It's stilted, confused. "Hi. Can I help you?"

"Is your daughter home?" Luanne asks with an equally stiff smile.

Trinity's mom glances at the living room, then back to the door. "Why do you ask?"

"Uh, my name is Luanne Roth. I live right next door. My son..."

"Nicky?"

"He's just up and vanished." Luanne chuckles uncomfortably. "Trinity was actually the one to call us and let us know."

"Was she now?" Trinity's mom glances at her, and Trinity can't help but roll her eyes at the look she gives her- why didn't you tell me?

Luanne nods. "I was wondering if we could talk to her, and get an idea of what happened? The rest of his friends are with my husband Jay and an officer at our house, but if you're not comfortable sending her over, we could just talk here."

"Can I go, mom?" Trinity asks.

"Trinity-"

Her mom sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I'd rather you two talk here after what Principal Abanante said, but I have a feeling you'll be going no matter what I say."

"Yep!" Trinity stands up and hurries toward the door. "I'll see you in a bit, Mom."

"Call us if you need anything!" Her mom calls as she shuts the door.

"Sorry about my mom, Mrs. Roth," Trinity says as soon as they're out of earshot. "She's, uh, worried about me getting into trouble is all. Really worried."

Luanne rubs at the bags under her turquoise eyes. "No, I understand," she sighs. "Nicky... he's not the best about this kind of thing. I know how it looks, but... we try." Another uncomfortable laugh. Dry. "We really do."

Trinity nods. "My parents tried too, and we still ended up here."

"It just goes like that sometimes, doesn't it?"

Trinity nods again as Luanne opens the door to the Roth house. "Trinity decided to come over, Jay," she calls. "Trinity, why don't you go upstairs with the other kids until the officer is ready for you guys?"

With a thumbs-up, Trinity scurries up the stairs to meet her friends. She tries not to frown at the sight of them- what if they hadn't left? Nicky might not have been alone in the house, and maybe he would've made it out.

Maritza, oblivious, throws her a peace sign. "Hey," she says, sounding almost bored as she rests her weight on an upright baseball bat that Trinity has to assume she brought from home.

"Hey." Trinity tugs at her skirt.

"I told you we should've pushed on the conduct disorder thing," She can hear Jay say from downstairs. "Or ODD, or whatever they would've-"

"And then what?" Luanne responds. "You know how much harder that would make life for him?"

"We could've gotten him in therapy, Lu. That's what. We could've gotten him medicated before Aaron."

"I don't want the people who think he's a felon in the making to have justification! You know his principal already warned the Bales family to stay away from him? Imagine how people would act if-"

"I don't give a damn about that! This is not normal, and everyone knows it whether you want to admit that much or not. If we could at least get it under control..."

"I know it's not normal, Jay! Of course it's not normal! I want to help him as much as you do, but I really think that we made the right choice not pushing for it- if we do get it under control one day, and he has that hanging over his head for the rest of his life anyway, that's not going to be good for him. No one looks at middle school detentions decades down the line, but medical history? Conduct disorders? They will look at that."

"He's a goddamn juvenile delinquent, Luanne. It's gonna hang over his head anyway."

Trinity can't help but feel like she's not supposed to hear this.

"The first time Nicky ran away, it was a big spectacle," Maritza says, probably to drown out the conversation downstairs. "It was a couple of weeks after Peterson's kids, and it was everywhere. People were convinced there was some nutjob snatching up kids, left and right..." She sighs. "Not that anyone took it that seriously when it was just Peterson's. Third time's the charm, huh?"

"How many times has it happened? Has he... run away, I mean."

Maritza frowns. "Enzo, Ivan, you got a number?"

"Maybe five times?" Enzo offers with a shrug.

"Why does he do it?"

"It's anyone's guess," Maritza chuckles humorlessly. "I say it's his parents."

"You're gonna make them sound like bad people," Enzo warns.

Maritza looks directly at her brother. "It doesn't matter how it sounds. He totally does it for their attention."

"It's because of Aaron!" Ivan chimes in.

"Is not," Maritza shoots back. "You don't see me or Enzo running away."

"It totally is," Ivan insists. "Just because you don't do it doesn't mean it's not the cause behind Nicky's behavior. Think about it! It's all about Aaron. 'Peterson killed Aaron and Mya.' Aaron's goggles. He's totally hung up on Aaron."

"Who's Aaron?"

The others go silent for a moment.

"He was, uh, one of Peterson's kids." Maritza rocks back and forth on the baseball bat. "He was Enzo and Nicky's friend. I always liked his sister better. Anyway, Nicky's convinced that Peterson killed 'em both. Just totally snapped after his wife died."

"You think he's nuts, right?"

"Eh, a little bit." Maritza shrugs. "He would say I just don't want to believe it, though."

"But he's not here."

"Kids, Officer Nielsen is ready to talk to you," Luanne calls before anyone can say anything else.

Trinity nods to the others. "C'mon."

The officer waves to them as they head down the stairs and into the living room. "I'm officer Keith Neilsen. I just have a few questions about your friend that'll help us find him. Mr. and Mrs. Roth said you guys were the last ones who saw him?"

"That's right," Enzo says with a nod.

"Do you remember where you last saw him?" He asks, kneeling down to Trinity's level.

"Friendly Court," Trinity says quickly, resisting the urge to glare at the others. As if any of them were there. "He was outside the Peterson house, and someone took him."

Officer Neilsen frowns. "His parents said he ran away."

"I told them I saw someone take him, but they said... I mean, I think they thought I was being dramatic about it. I don't just think someone took him, I saw it."

Officer Neilsen nods slowly, and Trinity can tell by that nod alone, just like the 911 dispatcher and Luanne, that he doesn't believe her. "What did they look like?"

Trinity furrows her brow. If she says it was Mr. Peterson, he definitely won't believe her. But if she can give a vague enough description, maybe he'll take her seriously.

"Um, male, white... middle aged?" She glances back at the others, who give her shrugs and vague nods. "Middle aged, brown hair..."

"Do you remember what he was wearing?"

"A button-down shirt."

"I'll write that down." He nods.

"You have the notebook in your hand," Trinity points out. "Why not write it down now?"

He sighs. "I've gotta talk to the rest of your friends first. The parents are certain it's a runaway, and I've gotta get the story straight before we can do anything."

"I saw someone kidnap him!"

Officer Neilsen narrows his eyes. "Did any of the rest of you see it?"

"I did." Enzo raises his hand awkwardly.

"Just say 'I did', dingus." Maritza smacks at his raised arm.

"Do you have any more details on the man her friend saw?"

"It was Mr. Peterson!"

"Enzo!"

"What? It was!"

Trinity facepalms. "I didn't say that for a reason!"

"Oh."

Officer Neilsen sets his notebook down. "I'm going to tell you all this one last time. We have no proof of any criminal activity or foul play on Peterson's part. If this is a ploy to make us investigate him, tell your friend it's not going to work."

"It's not a ploy," she tries, in one last plea for anyone to listen to her. "I wouldn't lie about this. I-I don't have any reason to have anything against him! I've only lived here for a week!"

"Then I think you're getting tricked."

He stands up. "Friendly Court outside the Peterson house was the last place they saw him," he says. "Nothing much other than that."

Luanne covers her face with one hand. "Four kids and all you got was that?"

"And a whole lot of nonsense. On the bright side..."

He glances, briefly, back at Trinity.

"I think we can safely rule out kidnapping."

-

One word, and I'll make sure no one ever sees you again.

Nicky keeps his hands over his mouth, not daring to disobey. Not at the risk of his life. Not when he's completely at the mercy of Mr. Peterson.

It would be easy to scream for help. To make sure the officer who entered the house heard him. But it would be dangerous. It would guarantee danger. So Nicky just breathes quietly and listens.

"Hey, Theodore," The officer says. Nicky immediately recognizes his voice. Leslie Kornwell.

"Kornwell." Peterson glowers. "What are you doing here?"

"Got a call from a little girl about something happening here. Just gotta look around the place. You know how it is."

"You know damn well what's happening in this house," Peterson hisses. "Get out."

"Can't." Nicky sees Officer Kornwell's shadow shake its head through the crack at the bottom of the door. "It's just protocol."

He glances at the basement door. Nicky holds his breath.

"Can I take a look at the basement?"

"It's unfinished," Peterson says with a shake of his head. "Dangerous to be going down there."

"I get the feeling you're doing something you're not supposed to be, Ted. Some kind of a tunnel down there? Trying to get back there?"

"Do not talk to me like we're friends, Kornwell. You think I've forgotten what you are?"

"I, uh-" Officer Kornwell takes a step back. "I heard the girl calling, y'know... sounded a lot like your Mya, she did."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK MY DAUGHTER'S NAME?"

Something clatters. Officer Kornwell groans in pain.

"I'll tell you what, Kornwell. I know what you're really here for. You take your shit and you leave my property. And if you ever come back here again..."

Another clattering sound rings out, louder this time. Something shatters as Officer Kornwell is thrown to the floor. Please look this way, Nicky begs silently. Let me out.

"...I will bury you."

Officer Kornwell stumbles to his feet.

"It's been more than thirty years since it happened," He pants. "You don't forget, do you?"

With that, Officer Kornwell hurries away, stopping only to grab a bag.

Peterson huffs, then approaches the door.

"What would you have done if I'd talked?" Nicky demands. "Were you gonna kill me? Bury me, like you said to the cop?"

"You've never been the smartest, Nicky," Peterson replies. "But I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself."

[cassidyafton]

why are you here

Summary: (Old) Tumblr prompt: "Sonadow angst? Maybe one of them gets hurt indirectly through the others actions?"

Note: Shadow gets they/themmed this whole fic. This mostly is so that I could distinguish them and Sonic while writing.

"Chaos Control!"

Shadow kept their eyes on the hologram, the fake that had attempted to attack Sonic. They stared the thing down as it began to fizzle, and didn't tear their eyes away.

Not even when they heard the confusion in Sonic's voice- "Another Shadow?"

Shadow narrowed their eyes. The hologram fizzled, flickered, and finally, disappeared.

"O-kay, just one Shadow... it just disappeared?"

"That was a fake," Shadow said simply, continuing to avert their eyes.

"Another fake?" Sonic said in a half-disbelieving tone, but he dropped it quickly. "How?"

Shadow gritted their teeth. Was everything a joke to Sonic? They couldn't stand it. Only a few days ago, he'd been at the culmination of six months of torture from the doctor and his forces. He was still weak and struggling, and yet here he was, cracking jokes.

Sonic's optimism was one thing Shadow already couldn't understand. But this attitude was beyond that, it was arrogance, recklessness, and utter disregard for danger. It was going to get him killed.

Sonic was expecting an answer. Shadow still couldn't look at him. They'd seen the way he helplessly flinched when the fake had attempted to attack him.

"Infinite can create virtual reality projections," They explained. "They have mass and form, but no heart and soul."

"Virtual reality?" Sonic echoed. His voice was strained. Dry. Shadow could hear the struggle to talk. "So all those... familiar faces, that were a part of his army..."

"Replicas," Shadow finished. "The problem is, they may not be real, but they have just as formidable powers as the originals. According to Rouge, he can make infinite copies."

An ability he'd gotten because of Shadow. Because of their attack. If they'd just killed him, or left them all alone, or...

"So... fight after fight, he can just keep cranking out counterfeits?"

Shadow bristled at the unconcerned way Sonic said it. So chill, so casual after half a year of torture, the thought alone of which made Shadow feel physically ill. Then they nodded.

"Exactly," Shadow responded coldly. "As it stands, there's no way we can win this."

"Of course we can win this!" Sonic argued. Shadow could practically hear in his voice the determined smile they knew he was giving them. "We always do! We just haven't figured that part out yet."

Shadow shook their head frustratedly. Of course Sonic would say that.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand the pain Shadow had caused with their actions. The pain Shadow had put him through.

That day, I gave up my unsightly face. And I let go of the old me- the one that was so weak.

He didn't understand that this was all Shadow's fault.

"Get out of here," Shadow hissed.

Sonic scoffed. "Nice to see you too, faker."

"I'm not making a damn joke, hedgehog. You need to get out of here."

"What the heck? Why? What are you on about now?"

Shadow curled their paws into fists and swung at the nearest wall to avoid whipping around to face Sonic. The worn bricks cracked on impact. They winced, but didn't move. "You just need to go. I don't know what idiot let you come running out on another one of these death marches you seem to so adore-"

"Cut to the chase, Shadow," Sonic snapped.

"-But one of these days, you are actually going to die. You came close enough already. Aren't you satisfied with that? With what you've already gone through?"

I've only become what I am because of you, yet you don't remember.

"No, I'm not!" Sonic insisted. "It's not about how much I have to go through, Shadow. It's about how hard I get to fight for my goal." He crossed his arms, Shadow saw it out of the corner of their eye. "I thought you'd know that."

"...Just get out," Shadow repeated. "I'm not here to argue with your hero complex. I need you to get out and stay out of this damned war zone until you're safe to be out here."

"Can you go two sentences without insulting me, faker?" Sonic retorted. "Hero complex, borderline masochism, c'mon. You know why I'm doing what I'm doing. What I don't get is why you're being such a jerk about it."

You've become nothing but an insect, waiting to be crushed under my foot.

"Because you're just not LISTENING!!!" Shadow yelled. They spun around furiously, to face Sonic, and immediately felt their stomach turn as they finally took in Sonic's look they'd been trying to avoid this whole time.

What they'd heard was that Sonic had been asleep for almost three straight days. He'd been low on sleep, food and water on top of his wounds, and they'd heard he was in really rough shape when he returned to the resistance.

What they saw fit that bill so much better than they'd wanted it to. Sonic was roughed up and heavily damaged, with dark circles under his green eyes. He'd lost weight, visibly. And the wounds that covered his body were gruesome. There were various gashes and similar marks all over his torso, and a few tracking his thighs and calves as well. Along with that were other damaged spots and bruises that looked to be from robot attacks, and one marking- bruised and swollen, with a small cut in the center- on his face. A few of the marks looked almost intentionally branded, rough, messy metal burns in jagged lines and chunks beginning to bleed and swell too. But worst of all was a mark right on the side of Sonic's thin torso, a gash so deep that it had been stitched up, and covered in clear gauze bandaging- a gash that made Shadow's stomach turn again, and their chest clench with guilt, because they knew from Sonic's naturally high heart rate alone that whoever patched him up would not have been able to give anesthetics when that wound was stitched.

...No, that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was the way Sonic had recoiled when they'd yelled at him.

Afraid they were going to hurt him.

Shadow felt something tight building and balling up in their throat.

They'd never been quick to cry. But they stared Sonic down, their glare quivering, and they were reminded of Maria. Of the one gunshot that was all it took to end a human life. A gunshot fired, soldiers present because of them. They traced his wounds with their eyes, and they thought of the blood spilled from his body, and the pain he'd been through. And how close he came to that one gunshot every second he was out here. Six months of torture. Six months of torture, a war won before it began, an enemy too strong to ever defeat, because of them.

This is reality, Shadow. YOUR reality.

"You're not... listening, hedgehog," Shadow repeated, their voice threatening to break. "You can't die. You can't leave us. You're recklessly endangering yourself and I don't know what I... what... any of us would do if you died on us. Not after everything you went through. We can't face that kind of loss, faker. You can't leave us too."

"Shadow," Sonic started, much softer this time. "I can't just stay on the sidelines. I have to help everyone. I was gone for months-"

"You were being held captive and tortured for months," Shadow interjected. "And I'm not letting you just run back in and endanger yourself again. I am not leaving until you accept that you aren't going anywhere."

"You're being ridiculous."

"You could end up dead."

Sonic recoiled again when Shadow made a sharp movement toward him, but he wasn't able to stop them- a quick chop to the side of the neck, straight to the vagus nerve as Shadow had learned rendered people unconscious, and Sonic collapsed. His knees buckled, and he fell right into the waiting grasp of Shadow.

But as soon as Sonic was out cold, Shadow found it near impossible to hold back tears. Absolutely abused and torn up, Sonic looked lifeless. Hopeless. Shadow lifted him up into their arms, and he looked just like Shadow had feared. He looked so tortured, so damaged, so dead.

"I thought you were dead, damn it," They choked out. "I couldn't live with that on my shoulders."

The resistance base wasn't too far away. By the time they approached, Shadow decided to drop giving whoever had allowed Sonic to go out in combat a piece of their mind, and just insist it not happen again.

I couldn't manage knowing his death was on me, too.

The blood of one loved one on their hands was already too hard to live with.

[cassidyafton]

REIMAGINATION: CHAPTER 8

Summary: A dark reinterpretation of the events of the Mr. Hopp's Playhouse series.

Chapter summary: In the midst of all the chaos beginning to take hold at Blacklands Manor, Esther confronts a so-called "friend" for trying to sabotage her.

Esther woke up late from another nightmare again that day. There was no use in being up for breakfast. She wouldn’t be allowed to eat anything after all, not until lunch.

There was a commotion downstairs- those holes and sores on Jackie’s hand had apparently spread all over his body, from the sounds of it- but it only lasted as far as the infirmary. Clearly, they thought everyone was in the dining room, and no one would hear them.

Esther didn’t care. Jackie would surely be fine, it was just some kind of allergic reaction. But she had more to worry about, herself.

Her stomach growled and her face twisted.

Molly.

Molly was so jealous she was able to be nice to people that she was getting Esther in trouble. That she was going to get Esther thrown in the cellar or Mr. Hopp in the trash.

She had awoken cuddling Mr. Hopp tightly so that nothing could take him away again, despite her dreams of a shadowy figure taking his face to haunt her leaving her sweating and shaking. He was her best friend. Her only friend. And Molly was trying to punish her.

She threw on a purple blouse and long denim skirt and stormed down the stairs to the dining room.

“MOLLY ELEANOR CASWELL!”

She spoke it like one of the matrons might, yelling her full name with a power.

“Huh? Esther?” Molly looked up, with the best innocent face she could give Esther, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Molly, I know you put Mr. Hopp in the kitchen last night and got me in trouble for it! What’s your problem with me now?”

“What?!” Molly’s expression twisted into defensive rage. She’d been caught. Esther wasn’t buying it. “That wasn’t me! Why would I go anywhere near your dumb bunny when I have Miss Bo?!” She scoffed.

“Are you sure you weren’t just sleepwalking, Esther? You’ve been having nightmares, maybe it was just that?” Isaac suggested. She briefly looked his way.

He was looking at her like she was crazy.

And Esther couldn’t hold back that malicious voice in the back of her head any longer.

“You know what, Molly? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you’re not a princess! You’re dirt poor, stuck in this rotten orphanage with no parents, just like the rest of us! So stop acting like a princess and maybe, if you tried to be nice, you might have friends, and the rest of us might actually like you!”

Isaac’s jaw dropped. Matron Sue shot her a glare. But Esther didn’t take her eyes off Molly.

As the other kids began to snicker and whisper among themselves, Molly’s face burned red with embarrassment, and fat tears welled in her brown eyes.

“Ugh!”

With nothing else to say for herself, Molly grabbed her precious Miss Bo and stormed off.

Then Esther felt a tugging force on her ear.

As Matron Sue grabbed Esther by the ear, the kids went quiet again.

“ESTHER!” She roared. “What has gotten into you?! You used to be so well-behaved and kind and now you’re breaking every rule we set and fighting with the other kids- just what is WRONG with you?!”

“I…”

Suddenly, Molly wasn’t the only one in tears. As she lifted an arm to cover her eyes, Esther began to sob uncontrollably. What was wrong with her? Molly was her friend. They’d been friends since they were four years old, since Molly was the new girl and needed someone to play with and Esther let her sit and play without asking her to share her little wooden doll. They butted heads, yes, but there were lines she would never cross, and one of those, above all else, was ever abandoning Molly, whose family had broken that rule already when she woke up one day and the whole house had been caved in leaving no one but her alive. So why, why was Esther being so mean? Why didn’t she care about anything anymore?

“I don’t know!” She cried. “I’m sorry, I don’t know!”

She heard the scraping of a chair being pushed out, and there was a split second of relief- someone else must've had everyone's eyes on them now- but of course, that didn't fix anything.

"Isaac, c'mon."

She couldn't quite make out the origin of the voice. She only knew that they were coming her way, and based on the second chair moving, that Issac was coming with them.

She felt Desdemona's long braids against her as she wrapped her arms around Esther and began to shush as though she was calming a crying baby, and that told her what was happening.

"It's okay, Esthie," Dessie whispered between breaths. "You tried to warn us."

"I did," Esther whined pathetically. "There's- there's something in this place. I don't know what it's doing to me."

"It's not your fault," Dessie continued. Esther was vaguely aware of the fact that she was shifting her weight from leg to leg, rocking Esther back and forth ever so gently. "The evil lurking in these halls... it's controlling us. You can't help it."

"You should apologize to Molly," Isaac said softly.

"Don't force her," Dessie replied. "She's having a hard enough time as it is."

"No." Esther sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "Isaac's right. I owe her an apology. I was too mean."

"Too mean..." Dessie repeated, with an expression and inflection that made Esther feel like she didn't believe she was capable of being mean. "Alright." She lifted Esther's chin to look at her. Something about the way she moved and handled her reminded Esther of an overly stubborn little sister. Not the worst thing to be, she supposed. "Come find me if you need me, alright?"

"Okay." Esther nodded, and with Mr. Hopp in hand and a smile from Dessie, she headed off to find her friend.