#at this point im like when are my fourth and fifth roommates also going to get sick 😭it seems like all of us are

[trans-axolotl]

roommate who went to the ER is doing better, but now third roommate is super sick and might Also have to go to the ER bc they cannot keep anything down either. it just keeps happening this week

[kissjun]

restrained — part 1

masterlist | part 2

a/n | this is my first time posting so im really nervous but i hope u like it🥺🥺

—

The chaos was slow. It was too quiet. No one would have suspected the world was reaching it’s end at first glance, but the chaos didn’t have to be ragingly physical to be there. Everyone was dying and they didnt even know. Everything was a slow burn—and that’s what made it horrifying.

No one knew where the disease had come from. All they knew is that there was no cure; and it started with a simple nose bleed. Victims would feel dizzy and nauseous for a few days. But after that, things would seem to get better. That was the worst part. It seemed as if all of the sudden, they were in their own utopia—they were always clean, had full bellies, and were fully rested. The world was a safe haven. Everyone was a friend. But the thing was, it was the exact opposite. Their brains only made them think they were never hungry—so they starved. It made them think they were never tired—so they became insomniacs. It made them think the world was perfect—so they were careless. The disease was a virus that blinded victims with a false euphoria that took over their minds and drove them insane until the sickness demolished them from the inside out; and they were dead.

Except for the Generation Z—or just the Z, she heard people call them. Suspicion rose like wildfire when the world realized: the disease didn't affect the young. They were immune. She was immune. The youth were thriving, and the millennial were dying; and they were going to do all they could to save themselves.

•

It had been a month since her parents died. She would never be able to forget that day, simply because of the looks on their faces: it wasn't horror, or pain. There was no sadness, tears, or goodbyes. They were laughing. First it was her mother, who she'd found curled in a ball on the living room floor. Her cheek was smeared with blood from the constant nose bleeds, giggling to herself like a child in their sleep—but this time she didn't wake up. When she had rushed to tell her father about it, he didn't budge a muscle, not much to her surprise. He simply continued his eerie drawing of messy scribbles as if it were his life work, telling her not to worry about it. Her father was an artist before the disease—so part of seeing him do something he did before the chaos made her feel normal. But when her father collapsed not long after, spitting out the familiar deep red tint of the blood she would never get used to—it was over. She was alone. Broken.

When the disease first broke out, many people evacuated the city—and even the country if they could, trying to avoid getting sick. But her parents were urged to stay, thinking it ridiculous to run from a sickness. It just wasn't possible—it could be anywhere. Even if they were right, being at home was just as dangerous as being anywhere else—and their deaths were to show for that.

She hadn't dared to leave the house since then. It was too dangerous to go out alone with all the Crazies (the infected that you should definitely stay away from), especially by herself. There was enough food to suffice, although she knew it wouldn't last forever. Fortunate enough, soldiers from a nearby facility managed to scout her out, along with some other kids from the area. They promised to take them somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

Seeing no better option, here she was. Leaning against the worn leather seat of the half empty school bus. Most of the kids looked around her age; no older than 18, she guessed. She caught glimpse of a young girl who couldn't have been older than ten, and almost felt her heart break. Where were her parents? Did the little girl have to see the things that she saw? The little girl's parents weren't with her anymore, and now she was alone. Nothing was familiar to her anymore. Or anyone.

The engine sloppily roared to life, vibrating the vehicle and everything inside of it. She leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes as she tried keep her mind clear. She didn't want to think about anything. She didn't want to be scared, or sad, or even excited. She just wanted to get there. She couldn't bring herself to admit it, but she didn't want to be alone anymore.

After nodding off for the fifth time, the school bus came to an abrupt stop, jolting her from her sleep. The engines hissed and the doors opened as a tall, redheaded woman walked onto the bus, clutching her metal clipboard to her chest.

“Hello,” she plastered on a tight smile. “My name is Lillian. I'll be your guide for today, so if you could just follow me, I would be more than happy to show you around the facility.”

She stepped off of the bus without another word. One by one, the kids on the bus followed behind Lillian's trail, murmuring among each other as they emptied the bus.

As her feet hit the gravel, her eyes met the modernized facility before her. The center of the building was a massive four stories high, holding nothing between her and the inside but tinted glass windows. On the left and right sides, the building branched off of the first and second floors into more secured buildings with cement walls and much fewer windows. The building structure reminded her of a bird spreading it's wings. It was less broken down than any of the other buildings she'd seen lately, too.

“Welcome to the Youth Repository Facility,” Lillian spoke over her shoulder. She walked through the first set of automatic sliding doors, leading everyone inside the facility. “This is your home now.”

It wasn't empty inside, but it wasn't exactly buzzing with life either. An old lady with overly-rosy cheeks took place at the front desk, flashing a half-hearted smile before returning to her book. A few sofas accompanied the spacious lobby, occupied by chattering teens, some elementary kids scattered across the floors, a few girls playing with dolls and a young boy reading a picture book.

Seems homey enough.

“This is the lobby. You can come to our receptionist, Mrs. Lynn, any time you have a question. The entire second floor contains the kitchen and cafeteria, where you will be served three meals a day,” Lillian pointed to the black spiral staircase in the center of the room that lead to the second floor. She turned back to the small crowd. “And the east wing is where you will be sleeping. I apologize if it's an inconvenience, but eventually everyone will be put two per room, for obvious spacial reasons.”

Her robotic tone gave the impression that she had practiced this speech one too many times, yet still not enough. She continued, “As said before, this is your home now. And as all homes have them, we do have a few rules.”

She returned her backside to the group, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she trotted towards towards the east wing. “For one, the west wing as well as the third and fourth floors are completely off limits. You can't operate the elevators or open the doors without access to a key, regardless. Two, we do have a basic schedule. Breakfast is at 9 AM, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at 6 PM. Curfew is at 9 PM and you're to go back to your rooms until morning.”

The automatic doors leading to the wing slid open, allowing the newcomers to pour in. Lillian led down the wide hall before taking another right. The new hall was lined with more tinted glass, and if it weren't for the lights on on the other side, she wasn't sure if she would be able to tell what was behind it.

What was on the other side of the glass surprised her—a bunk bed pushed against the wall of the, astoundingly, but barely spacious area. The room contained a tall dresser, a small table, and even a tiny sink pushed in the far corner. It was far from dazzling, but it wasn't bad. Duplicates of the room were lined down the hall on both sides. Only a thin, back wall separated the rooms side by side; but it was better than more glass.

Her group waited for further instruction as Lillian came to a halt. She pointed to the small lights above the glass doors. “Two green lights means the room is completely vacant. One green light means someone is still in need of a roommate. You may also look for rooms in the opposite hall, so pick and choose as you please. You'll have time to get yourselves situated before dinner. There will be a bell to signal when it's time to come up. Any questions?”

She wasn't surprised when no one spoke up; she'd spit so much at them in the span of five minutes . . . it was hard to process everything at once. With a simple nod, Lillian gestured for the group to get to business before exiting the hall with her busy pace.

Being near the back of the group, she trudged behind slowly, waiting for others to pick their rooms. Her eyes scanned the green lights. She already told herself she was going to look for one with only one green light; she didn't want to take a vacant room from someone who might want to share with someone they came with. She, however, wouldn't know her roommate regardless.

A few turned to curiously search down the other hall, and others had already called dibs. Her eyes found a door on the left—it only had one light. 515 was labeled beside the green glow. Letting out a breath, she politely pushed past a few people and grabbed a hold of the metal handle. Slowly pushing the door open, she glanced around as she slipped inside.

A young boy sat up from the bottom bunk, his dark and messy hair falling into his eyes. He looked a little caught off guard. “Oh, uh, hi.”

“Hi,” she pursed her lips. “Is it okay if I room with you? If not, I can find another—”

“No, no,” he shook his head almost too quickly. “It's fine. Really. You, uh, want the bottom bunk or anything? I can switch if you want.”

“I'm fine with the top,” she assured him. He nodded awkwardly, and she let her eyes wander around the room. It was identical to all the other ones she'd passed, with the exception of some junk on the dresser and a pair of plain white shoes in the middle of the floor.

“What's your name?” the boy asked, and she told him.

“I'm Mark,” he said as he held his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she took his hand with a smile. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days. Not long, really.”

“Do you like it?”

“I guess so. I mean, it can be kinda weird sometimes, but overall it’s better than being out there,” he scratched the back of his neck.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted. Anything had to be better than watching the world she once knew decay before her; all while she hid for her life from the Crazies that wanted nothing but blood. “What kind of weird?”

“Well,” he hesitated. “I guess . . . some buddies of mine think people are being taken from their rooms at night. We thought maybe they're being moved to another facility since we're filling up pretty quick here. But . . .”

“But?” she raised an eyebrow, curiouser.

“I dunno, it's kinda dumb,” Mark brushed it off, clearly antsy. An electronic ding sounded from the intercom, and Mark jabbed his thumb at the ceiling. “You hungry?”

A simple nod was all Mark needed before he was pulling her out of their room. She followed him the way she came, backtracking through the halls and the sliding doors that lead back to the lobby. The two of them fell into rhythm with the small crowd kids that were making their way to the second floor as well.

The second floor felt huge—it was a large area in general, but especially because it was surrounded by nothing but glass. The round lunch tables were spread evenly across the entire floor, and there surely had to be enough seats to fit half a thousand. It was bright and busy; a feeling she still hadn't gotten used to. But she liked it.

She followed Mark into the lunch line, letting the employees behind the counter fill their plates with the best food she'd smelled in months. Since her parents had gotten sick, she'd mainly relied on canned vegetables and packets of cold meat. She could only handle so many meals of cold hot-dogs and carrots before she decided she would only eat when she thought she was going to starve.

“This looks amazing,” she voiced barely above a whisper.

“Right?” Mark laughed. “When was the last time you ate?”

“It's been a few days,” she admitted. “But only because all I had was canned veggies and refrigerated meat for the last few months. Hot-dogs, bologna, all that. Just the smell makes you wanna puke after a while.”

“Dude, no joke,” he shivered. “Entire months? I would've died the third day. Hot-dogs are fine, like, once a week, if even that. But for months straight? I don't even wanna imagine.”

A small laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. It almost surprised her, given how long it had been since she'd heard herself laugh.  “Don't. You'll be scarred for life.”

When the two finished filling their plates, she followed Mark to a small table near the window. He slid into one of the metal chairs, next to two other boys she hadn't seen before. Taking one of the vacant seats, she placed her tray down next to Mark.

“Ooh,” a boy with fading pink hair flashed the brightest smile in her direction. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends,” the blonde next to him raised an eyebrow. “What do you think it is?”

“A pretty girl, a new friend,” the first boy held his grin. “Mine, obviously. Not yours. No one wants to be friends with a three foot gremlin—”

“A three foot—“ the second boy didn't hesitate to pull the other into a headlock, playfully ruffling his hair. The first boy let out a noise that sounded like a mix of struggle and laughter—and she couldn't help but smile. She glanced at Mark, who was smiling to himself as well.

“This is Jaemin,” Mark pointed to the one in a headlock, then to the one initiating the torture. “That's Renjun.”

The boys retreated from their manhandling, and turned their attention back to their friend and the newcomer. Jaemin attempted to fix his mess of a head, but there was definitely no use trying. Renjun seemed satisfied at that.

“Ah, nice to meet you!” Renjun beamed after she introduced herself. “Are you new?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I'm Mark's roommate.”

“Dude, how did you get stuck with a girl?” Jaemin wondered.

Renjun elbowed his arm. “She's literally sitting right there. Everyone picks their cells, dimwit.”

“Cells?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Oh . . . yeah, according to Renjun, that's what they call our rooms or whatever,” Mark rolled his eyes. “He said he overheard doctors talking one time. They kept calling them 'sleep cells' and 'cell five-oh-whatever'. Like, what is this, a jail?“

“Or a science research lab—which it is,” Renjun held a finger in the air.

Jaemin groaned. “He never stops with the conspiracy theories. Renjun, your life isn't a science fiction novel! Dude, give it up.”

“Listen,” he turned to her, bluntly ignoring Jaemin. “Don't you think it's weird that we can't go into the west wing? Or the top two floors? Or that we can't go out past 9 o'clock? That they lock us in our rooms until morning? And people are going for 'checkups'—” he quoted with his fingers. “—in the west wing; and some of them aren't even coming back! Not to mention this place is literally called a Youth Repository Facility. Like they think we don't know big words. They're acting like we're objects! Don't you think it's a little weird?”

She pondered. He was convincing, but she'd only been there for no longer than an hour. What would she know? Not to mention she didn't know any of them well enough to tell if he was just a kid that played way too many video games before the break out.

“Dude,” Mark deadpanned. “It's called authority. Yeah, maybe they're being extra, but did your parents not give you a curfew? And a dinner time, and a bedtime, and a playtime? Weren't there things you were and weren't allowed to get into at home? See? You're just paranoid.”

“At least people didn't go missing when I was with my parents,” Renjun muttered.

“Missing?” She looked between the boys as they visibly tensed.

“They've been taking people from their cells at night,”' Renjun didn't hesitate to inform. “None of them have came back. Not even—”

“Renjun,” Mark sighed.

“What? Why can't we talk about it? I watched them take Chenle, and he still hasn't come back. He was our friend, so why do you keep pretending like it didn't happen?”

“You wouldn't even be on about this if you would have just taken your pills like you were supposed to . . .” Mark added.

“What pills?” she asked.

“Sleeping pills,” Renjun said, lowering his voice. “They make us take fucking sleeping pills. Every night! They say it's for our health, but health my ass. If I didn't skip them, no one would know anything about Chenle.”

“Look, we don't know what happened to Chenle. There's as much of a chance that something good is happening to him as there is something bad,” Jaemin tried.

“Automatically assuming it was something good doesn't make it something good,” Renjun huffed.

“Neither does assuming it's something bad. There's nothing we can do here, Jun. We just have to wait,” Jaemin said softer, easing the tension in the air. He pinched his ear. “For now why don't you lay off those evil scientist novels you hide under your bed, huh?”

Renjun flicked Jaemin's hand off, pouting. “I hope they take you next and dissect your brain.”

As the two boys bickered on, conversation eventually drifted off into lighter subjects. She found out that Renjun and Jaemin had been classmates before the breakout, and that they came here together. Mark had met the two the day they all arrived. To her surprise, Renjun and Jaemin shared a cell only four doors down from hers and Mark's. It made her feel better knowing she had people she could trust around her. After going months without speaking to a single sane person—this was a breath of fresh air.

She stood to place her tray in the window of piling dirty trays, where a man with graying hair washed the dishes. After flashing a friendly smile, she returned to Mark and the others. Jaemin continued babbling something about something 'being so cute' and Mark would constantly scrunch his nose and reply with, “Dude . . .”

Making their way back to the lobby, the four friends decided to take lounge on two nearby couches that sat face to face, divided by a small mahogany coffee table.

“So,” Jaemin plopped onto the seat across from her. “Do you like the facility so far?”

“It's okay,” she shrugged. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say; only being there for about an hour didn't give her a lot of time for everything to sink in. As for first impressions went, it was a nice place. It was clean, organized, and there were a lot of kids her age. She felt comfortable. But . . . she couldn't shake the eerie feeling off from what Renjun had said earlier. “I'm just glad I'm not alone anymore.”

She hated the feeling of being alone in her dark, cold house. The electric didn't work, and neither did the heat—so it being late September, she clung to layers of blankets and the few candles she had left like her life depended on it. She locked herself in the bathroom, too horrified by the sight and smell of her parents rotting bodies. She wanted to move them—she did. She wanted to bury them and say proper goodbyes. But she couldn't make herself do it. She couldn't handle it. Everything was too quiet. Too empty. She was too alone.

Renjun frowned, noticing the change in her expression. “Even if this place weirds me out sometimes, I do think they did something good by saving us all and putting us together. Now we all have each other.”

She smiled. Now she has them.

“Yeah!” Jaemin chirped. “Let's make it a promise.”

“Make what a promise?” Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Go like this,” Jaemin crossed his wrists over each other, holding out his pinky fingers. Everyone followed. “Let's promise to always be there for each other, yeah? I, Na Jaemin, swear that if any of you need anything, I'll be there for you.”

She shared a glance with Mark and Renjun, who didn't seem opposed to Jaemin's antics. Personally, she liked the idea. She felt safe knowing she had people she could count on. All she wanted was to feel safe again.

“So do I,” she said, linking her pinky with his. Renjun and Mark followed suit almost immediately after, much to Jaemin's satisfaction.

“Good,” Jaemin smiled as they released the small pinky promise circle. “With that being said, someone find me some ice cream—“

Renjun shot across the coffee table almost immediately, pulling the giggling boy into another headlock. “Rule number one, every time Jaemin says something dumb, Renjun is obligated to beat him up.”

Mark raised a hand. “I'm all for that.”

Rolling her eyes, she let out a laugh. She wasn't sure how she got stuck with three idiotic boys—but she wasn't going to complain. After the four had been goofing around for what seemed like forever, mentions of a shower came up. When Mark saw her eyes light up, he informed her where the showers were, and an extra change of clothes in their room. Thanking him, she head off to grab them.

It didn't surprise her when she opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and found nothing but black sweatpants and the same URF logo t-shirt she'd seen everyone else, including Mark, Jaemin, and Renjun wearing. At least the facility had a sense of comfort; they could've put everyone in boxy uniforms or prison jumpsuits.

Slipping back into the hallway, she recited Mark's directions to the showers. It was only two turns from their hall, but the facility was huge—she couldn't help but feel like she was getting lost; and when she'd taken her fourth turn and still hadn't came across the showers, she let out a defeated sigh. I'm such an idiot.

Before she could turn to backtrack her steps, she heard a deep voice call from down the other hallways. “Hey, can I help you?”

The slightest amount of panic surged through her body. Was she somewhere she wasn't supposed to be? Was she going to be in trouble? “I—No, sorry . . . I was just looking for the showers.”

As the soldier approached, she noticed that he was definitely not as old as she thought he was going to be. Or should be. He was the youngest soldier she'd seen since the disease broke out; most soldiers were around their fifties—they were always older. That's how it worked. The younger ones were controlled, and the oldest ones controlled. So seeing a soldier so strangely close to her age felt odd. It was like an army of wolves controlling a crowd of bunnies—but, for some reason, one of the bunnies happens to be in the army of wolves, helping them control the other bunnies. It didn't make sense.

“This way,” the soldier said, leading her back down the way she came at a strictly fast pace. She eyed the gun attached to his him, an uncomfortable feeling washing through her. He wasn't the only one armed like that—they all were. There were soldiers in the lunch room, the lobby, and at one point Jaemin had mentioned that they sweep the halls every night. And they were always armed.

Glancing at the boy's face, he didn't seem like the type to shoot someone, let alone an innocent kid. His eyes were big and dark, nose soft and curved. Underneath the hard mask he wore to be a soldier, he more or less looked like a decent person.

“You look a little young to be a soldier,” she blurted out. He blinked, not bothering to glance at her as he continued down another hall she hadn't taken before. “How old are you?”

They came to a stop as they approached what seemed to be the showers. She could hear the heavenly sound of water splashing behind the metal doors, and just the thought of finally being able to scrub herself until she felt brand new put her in cloud nine.

“The facility has rules,” he finally replied, voice monotone. “Soldiers, staff and guests aren’t to have personal interactions. Enjoy your shower.”

With that, the boy walked away, leaving her baffled. What was that? “It was just a question,” she mumbled before pushing into the showers.

Nothing could describe the pure bliss she felt when the warm water hit her skin. She immediately tended to scrubbing a months worth of grime off of her skin, watching everything that happened before she arrived wash down the drain. After doing the same to her hair, she got to brushing her teeth with the extra toiletries they so kindly offered.

When she was done brushing her hair, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin had gotten a shade lighter after scrubbing everything off, and her hair felt two times softer. She felt brand new—and she took this as a chance to start over. This was her new beginning.

Mark was lazed across the bottom bunk when she returned to their room, fiddling with something too small for her to see. He looked up when she entered, greeting her with a smile. “Feel better?”

“A lot,” she nodded.

“You look better,” he almost laughed, making her wonder if he was trying to tease her.

She stretched her back. “You have a crush on me now or something?”

“What? No!” He said defensively, reminding you of a little kid. He leaned back on his pillow. “Next time I'll just call you ugly.”

She almost laughs. “You know, I'm glad you're my roommate and not some weirdo—oh wait.”

“And I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that,” he replied.

“You do that,” she grinned as someone knocked on the glass door behind her. The two turned their heads as a nurse took it upon herself to open the door, letting herself in.

“Time for your meds,” the nurse smiled, holding up a tray with two white pills laying on top. “Don't worry, everyone takes it. It's a vitamin to sustain your health and make sure you're getting the right amount of sleep.”

She thought back to Renjun. Vitamin my ass.

Mark looked between her and the nurse, being the first to take the pill. “Thanks.”

She took the remaining pill, rolling it between her fingers. When the nurse didn't leave, she looked to Mark in confusion. He popped his pill in his mouth, swallowing, then opened his mouth for the nurse to check with her mini flashlight. He looked to her, and she did the same. She slid the pill in her mouth, swallowing it without seeing much choice. She opened her mouth for the nurse, lifting her tongue.

The nurse hummed contently. “Now, it may take a tiny bit longer for the medicine to kick in for you, since you've never taken it before, but I assure you a good night's sleep will be with you soon enough.” One nod was all the nurse needed before she took her cue to exit the room.

She and Mark shared a look before he returned to his spot on his bed. “So, Renjun wasn't lying about all that stuff? Was that a sleeping pill?”

“Lying, no,” he admitted. “Exaggerating, maybe. And yeah, the pill pretty much knocks you out.”

“Exaggerating, only maybe?” she asked, crawling onto the top bunk. Exhaustion washed over her.

“I don't know,” he said. The lights in the room dimmed, along with the ones in the hall. She could barely see anything. “He can be extra.”

Was he being extra, though? Or were the others being too oblivious? Everything Renjun said added up—it all made sense. But it wasn't something anyone would be worried about until it was pointed out. The facility was good; they saved lost, innocent kids that somehow ended up alone. They put everyone together, where they can connect and be stronger. They gave everyone a chance to feel normal again—like a part of a family. But the question was; were their motives as good as their actions? Did they have different intentions like Renjun thought? Or was all of this just too much overthinking?

She rubbed her eyes. It was only her first day—she shouldn't be worrying about so much that she didn't know. She should be thankful, and happy that she can go to sleep not having to worry about people invading her house, trying to steal things or putting a gun to her head. It felt nice to know she wasn't alone anymore; everyone in the facility had gone through, and was going through, almost the exact same as her. All of them had lost someone. All of them were alone. All of them were found. All of them were immune. She felt like a part of something again, and she didn't want to lose that feeling.

A sudden click made her jump out of her thoughts. Her eyes fell to the digital clock on the top of the dresser. 9:00 PM. Renjun was right again.

It’d only been roughly 20 minutes and Mark was somehow already snoring—and although she was feeling drowsy herself, her curiosity kept her awake. She shuffled out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cold ground as she tiptoed her way to the thin, glass door. She gripped the icy, metal handle and tugged. It was locked. What was the point of locking them inside if they were asleep? It's not like they didn't just give everyone a sleeping pill to make sure of that.

She lazily glanced at Mark, who was peacefully snoozing. It made her even more tired—but she didn't like it. She felt like she was being forced down; forced to close her eyes to sleep. It didn't feel right. When she spun back to the door, her eyes met with another—the young soldier that she met earlier. She jumped back in surprise, proud of herself for only letting the slightest squeak escape her throat.

The soldier only looked at her, motionless. She slowly lifted her hand, mustering a small wave.

“What are you doing?” he asked, surprisingly audible through the glass. She could tell he was trying to be intimidating, but his round eyes and soft lips betrayed him. Kind of.

“Nothing,” she replied, hazy from the pill. In all honesty, if it weren't for how much she'd been over-thinking, she probably would've been fast asleep already.

“You were trying to open the door,” he glanced at her hand, gripping the metal door handle. She immediately released it.

“I was just curious,” she admitted.

“Didn't you take your pill?” he asked, sounding a little more casual.

“Yes,” she felt herself wobbling, her knees almost failing to keep herself upright. She didn't feel as tired as her body made her out to be, which annoyed her to the core. Why couldn't she keep her eyes open a little longer?

“Hey,” the soldier said, putting his finger to the glass. “Go lay in your bed. You're gonna—“

“Why are you being so secretive about your age?” she tilted her head in confusion. She could only squint at this point; trying to keep her eyes open was a lost cause. She caught glimpse of the name tag attached to his uniform. His name was Lucas. “It's just a question.”

“A personal, unimportant question,” he stated, annoyance tinting his voice. “Now seriously, go lay in your bed before you fall over or something.”

“Fine,” she pouted, turning to return to her bed. If he wanted to be difficult, he could be difficult; but she was on the verge of passing out and she found that she could care less at the moment.

Much to her misfortune, as she took her fourth step, everything in front of her faded into black, and she couldn't hold herself up anymore. She let herself sink to the cold floor, curling into a ball as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Damn sleeping pill.

—

masterlist | part 2

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Bad Guy

 Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

We got a hero, we got a villain, but which is which? Or are they so tangled up that nobody can tell? Who knows? Actually I do, because I’m the author and I’m writing this blurb thing to conceal the mystery for newcomers lol. This is the story about Anti and Jackie I mentioned last week. It’s the first time Anti had any direct contact with the other boys, and then that became a regular thing and also one of the main driving conflicts of this AU. So yeah, rather important story to cover

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Taglist: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske @odysseus-is-best-boi  @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Jackie knew this city was hell. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who knew, who saw the signs even when taking a simple walk. Why else would he be the only one with the courage to do this? The only one who actively sought out information on what the gangs were up to next? The only one currently perched on the slanted roof of this warehouse, staring through the skylights, waiting for those criminals to show up? Either the citizens just didn’t realize how bad the situation was, or they were too scared to do anything about it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Thank god he remembered to silence it. Nothing much was happening on the floor down below, so he pulled it out and checked the text from Chase that had appeared on screen: You coming home soon?

Jackie rolled his eyes, then pulled off the glove on his right hand so he could type out a reply, chicken-peck style. No. Nothings happened yet

Im bored! Chase replied. Everyone is off doing work shit!

Go talk to Jack or something

Im not at home

Jackie paused. Where the hell are u then??? He thought he knew.

The little typing bubbles stayed for a while before he got Chase’s reply. I dunno the name of the place. Its on Forest Ave. Prices are low so i checked it out. But im still bored drinking alone! Cmon and join me here. Besides didnt you say theyd meet at 11? Its 1230 now and if their not there their probably not coming.

*They’re, dude Jackie glanced back through the skylight. It was true. Members of the Spotted Snakes gang were supposed to meet here at eleven to discuss weapon arrangements. Jackie had even heard there was going to be one of the leaders there. It would’ve been a perfect opportunity to eliminate them, but they hadn’t appeared, and by this point it was just insane for every member to be an hour and a half late. Something must’ve been up. Jackie sent another text to Chase: OK, Im gonna go down and check it out. If I find nothing Ill meet u there.

Whoo! Jackies going out on the town! :D

Night on the town! But dont count on it yet, still might be something up. Text u later Jackie shut off his phone. The skylight was unlocked, as he’d checked two hours ago, so he eased it open. There was a quite a drop to the floor of the warehouse, but luckily he’d prepared for these situations. His belt had a cable with a hook, for climbing easily. Jackie unwound the cable, hooked it around the edge of the skylight, and gently lowered himself down. The moment his feet touched solid ground he yanked on the cable until it unhooked, then retracted it back into his belt.

It looked like a normal warehouse. Huge storage boxes and crates were stacked along the walls and in rows, with a big empty space in the middle where Jackie had landed . There were long metal rafters holding up the slanted ceiling. A few of the large industrial lights were on, casting an eerie glow over the stacks. That alone must’ve been a sign someone was here, but they’d been on since before Jackie had arrived. Maybe they were on a timer?

Well, even if the gang wasn’t here, he might as well look for evidence. Maybe they had some of those alleged weapons stored in those boxes that he could get rid of. The warehouse could go too, they’ll lose a place to meet.

Jackie walked over to the nearest crate. It would be hard to open, even for him, but luckily someone had conveniently left a crowbar on top of it, maybe planning to open it later. Jackie picked it up and, with no small effort, pried the crate open. Nothing was in this one, just a bunch of loose packing peanuts.

One of the lights overhead flickered and died. That was...weird. There must’ve been a whole shitload of lightbulbs inside it, they couldn’t have all gone out at once. Jackie glanced toward it, but couldn’t see anything from this far away. He shrugged it off and moved on to the next crate, also empty. As were the third, fourth, and fifth one.

He had the strangest feeling someone was watching him. At first he put it down to paranoia, but as time went on the feeling only intensified. He stopped his attack on the crates and looked around. He couldn’t see anybody, but that didn’t mean nobody was there. Jackie shouldered the crowbar and stalked away, determined to find out if somebody was actually watching him, or if he was just going crazy.

Another light flickered off. The stacks of boxes were casting long shadows, where anyone could be hiding. Jackie didn’t like it, but he took advantage of it when he could, keeping to the edges of the stacks where the shadows were deepest. No one would see him coming, if anyone was indeed there.

A third light died, this time the one directly above him. And now Jackie was suspicious. Things like that don’t just happen. He glared up at the light, and caught a bit of movement high above. Something...slithery, like a flag in the wind. It definitely wasn’t a loose wire or anything with a normal explanation. Jackie tightened his grip on the crowbar. It wouldn’t do any good from down here, but just in case. “Hey!” he shouted. “If anyone’s up there, I can see you! Why are you hiding?”

There was no doubt about it this time: something big, person-sized, moved on top of the lighting fixture. Whoever it was, they didn’t answer.

“Your cover’s blown!” Jackie said. “And you’ll have to get down at some point. I can wait. Or you can just answer me.”

Nothing for a moment. Then out of nowhere, a person-shaped shadow leaped from the light and landed smoothly on one of the rafters. Something fluttered behind them, probably a piece of clothing. Jackie gaped. How...?

“You’ve got me,” a voice said. Jackie jumped. It sounded like it was right beside him and far away at the same time. And it also seemed familiar for some reason. “What are you going to do now, Jackieboy? Arrest me? Or am I too  dange͡ro͟ùs͏ for that?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Jackie said cautiously. His eyes followed as the shape of the person jumped to another rafter. They—he?—shouldn’t have made that distance. It was much too far. And that voice...if Jackie hadn’t been living with Marvin, unfortunately, for the past year or so, he would’ve been so confused right now. But now he just suspected magic.

“You’ve heard of me,” the voice said. “But we’ve never met. You’d recognize my name if I told you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Jackie asked. “I’m sure we can come to a...an agreement.”

The voice chuckled. “Like the agreement you have with your roommates? You look the other way, and they’ll help you get rid of troublesome tricksters? For someone who brags about his strong morals you sure like to let them bend.”

“How do you know about that?!” Jackie demanded. Then he reconsidered. “I—I mean, not the thing about morals. You’re wrong about that. I mean that I have roommates, and an arrangement.”

“I know a lot about you, Ja̶c͝ki̛ébo͟y.” The voice spat his name out like it tasted bitter. “And I don’t like any of it.”

Jackie growled. “Easy to say from up there. But if you were down on my level, I’d set you straight.”

“Ok̵ày̴,” the voice said, amused. Jackie wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. The shadowy hint of a person was suddenly not in the rafters anymore, and with an electric crack like a computer screen fracturing in two, there was someone right in front of Jackie. He gasped and backed up. The other person stayed stone-still.

The dark lighting fixture overhead burst back into life, while every other light in the warehouse dimmed and died. Jackie stared at the man in front of him. It seemed they’d found a seventh doppelganger: same hair, same build, same eyes. Well, not exactly on that last part, as his right eye was covered by a patch. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans with holes in the knees, and black tennis shoes. The green scarf around his neck must’ve been what caught Jackie’s attention up on the lighting. Jackie kept an eye on the man’s hands, in case the man attacked him, but his arms were crossed and Jackie couldn’t see a weapon.

“Well?” the man asked, grinning a bit. “I’ve stooped to your level now. Literally, of course, because I would ņev̷e̵r͢ mean that in the way it’s supposed to be meant.”

“You do realize I didn’t mean that, right?” Jackie said. He tried to sound casual, but he was very aware of the crowbar in his hand. “I get angry sometimes. I just want to know what you’re doing here. The Spotted Snakes were supposed to be meeting here, but nobody showed up. If you know something, I have to be in on that.”

“Why?” the man asked innocently.

“I—look, I—if someone is doing illegal shit in a warehouse like some sort of crime show, someone should stop that! That’s what I do!”

“And w̶h͡ò ̛gave y̨ou tha̴t ̀aut̢hor̶i̸t̵y̧?” the man growled. “The police? Maybe not the best, but they wouldn’t sanction this. The government? Absolutely not. Yourself?” He laughed. “Perhaps if you’d had the right idea, I’d let you. But instead, you have knives on your person and gasoline waiting for you outside. Do you understand why I had to tell them you were coming?”

Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You noticed this place was empty. Did it not occur to you that they were warned the crazy vigilante would be stalking them tonight? How easy is it to send an anonymous text these days?”

“You little—” Jackie didn’t even finish his sentence before lunging forward, swinging the crowbar at the man’s head. But just before it connected, the man dissolved. That was the only word for it, he came apart like loose atoms flying everywhere. Jackie barely caught himself before he fell. The other man reformed to the side, his body still caught partly in that glitchy swarm state.

Jackie turned toward him, seething. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yoų'̷l͢l try͟.”

Jackie swung again, only for the man to dodge. And again, from the other side, to the same result. He tried a feint with the crowbar while going for a hit with his fist. The man disappeared and came back in the exact same spot. Jesus christ, couldn’t this guy just stop cheating for five fucking seconds?! Jackie gritted his teeth and flew forward, giving up on tactic and just trying in vain to land a hit. But he couldn’t, no matter what. The guy just dodged, or glitched out of the way, or let the hits pass right through him.

“T̕h̢i̛s ͢is get̡ţi͠n̢g̨ ͟bor͝i̶n͏g̀,” the man said. And that just made Jackie angrier. Was this a game to him?! Jackie went for one more two-handed swing with the crowbar. But the world broke. That was the only way to explain the momentary freezing of time, the way the surroundings became sharp red and green shapes, the loud hum of screaming static. Jackie dropped the crowbar in shock, then next thing he knew the strange man was behind him, wrenching his arms behind his back. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to immobilize them.

“Are you fucking—” Jackie did his best to stomp on the man’s feet or kick him or something, but he got no reaction no matter how hard he hit.

“I hope you realize yoų a͞re͟n'̸t̴ doin̡g ͠a̸ny͠thìng,” the man remarked. “Now. I have questions. You have answers. We can play a matching game.”

“Fuck off!” Jackie spat. “I’m not gonna tell you anything, and you can’t make me!”

“You don’t ḱn̨ow̢ that,” the man hissed. “Now shut up and let me start. Where’s Jack?”

Jackie stopped struggling out of pure shock. “Wait, what?”

“Where. Is Jack.” The man repeated. “I kn̢ow͠ yo̧u ̛k͠n͝o͏w. You’re one of his rotten  f̷̴͟r̵í͡é́͞nd̶͟͞s̛͢͞ that took him. Where is he?”

“Why do you—” Jackie cut himself off. This guy looked a lot like Jack. Could it be? “Wait...you’re his demon friend aren’t you? Anti. The one with the eye-patch that he talked about all the time.”

“Yes, that’s me,” the man—Anti—confirmed. “And I’m not a d̡e͡mo̡n͏. You’ve talked to him, huh?”

“Of course I have! He’s my friend, as you pointed out.” A smile curved his lips. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Anti’s grip on his arms tightened. “Ẁh̷at̢ ar̸e͡ ̴y̛ou͞ ͏sa̡ying̡?̀”

Jackie laughed. “Just that he’s finally realized the truth about you. You’re a monster. A demon, as much as you deny it. He’s not gonna want to see you again.”

“Y̸̡͞o̡ú're̸̛ ̶̢͢ly̶̢̕i̷͟n̨̕g!̵͡” Anti shoved Jackie away from him, like he couldn’t stand to be near him anymore. Jackie landed hard on the floor, flipping over to face the glitch. The distortion had increased to the point where it was starting to affect the world around him. His visible eye had turned green, with a black sclera. There was a knife in his hand now, gleaming and sharp.

Jackie tensed, getting ready for an attack but not standing up in case that provoked him. “I don’t lie. I’m just telling you what he thinks. And if anything, it’s your fault for being that way. I’ve been told it’s easy to use bad memories from Halloween as a starting point.”

“ W̡͢h̵̢a̢̢̡t̡̕͠ ̨͟͝d͡͞id ̨͡yo͝͏͏u̷ ̷͠d͡o ͟͟to̴̷͢ ͏̛h̶̡i̢m?̷̧” Anti growled.

“I didn’t do anything. I just don’t stop people from doing things.”

“A̸nd how ͢n̴ob̕le͢ ́of̷ you!͠ H̴ow ͠h̕e̕r̵oi͏c̷!” Anti flipped the knife into a stabbing position. “Th̛a̸t's̸ exac̕tl̕y wh͡at ̕a͢ ̛s͡up̡e̵rh̨e͝ro wo̕u̧l̨d d̴o, s̢i͡t͠ a̡ro͠und and ͡watc̕h b̛y̸st́an̷de̢rş ̡b̷e͡ hurt͡.̛” His lip curled in disgust. “T͝oo̸ s͞c͏are̴d t͢o ̸e͝n̢dan̢ger̴ ỳou͏r̵ ̸l̸it͏tl͡e ́fr̸i͟ends̡hips͝ ̨w͢ith ́t̀he̷ ͏ba̷d ̧gu̢ys̴ to ̷do ͞so̶m̵et͢hi̶nǵ g͡ood͢ fơr on͠ce,̶ ̵t͟h̕en?!”

“I do good things all the time!” Jackie protested. “The streets are safer with me out on them.”

“N̴ó,̧ ͝th̶ey͡'͠re̕ ̕f͡uck͡in͟g̢ worse be͟ca͏use anyo̕ne̶ ̀cou͞l̨d̀ b͢e ͟dragged̷ ͠i͝ntơ an̵ ̵a͞lley ̶a̵nd ͟iǹt͟err̡ǫga͡ted ͢be̷cau͝se ̶th̸éy ̛ḿaý ̸be͟ a̧ cr̀i͠min͡a͟l̡!̢”

“You know what?!” Jackie stood up, keeping an eye on the knife. “Why don’t you stop accusing me and start looking for answers! I can take it! I’ll give you as much as I get, I can promise you that!”

Anti stared at him. Then, with a glitch, the knife in his hands disappeared. The distortion lessened. “I'̢m͏ ͝n͢ot l͞i̢k͏e̴ y̵o̴u,” he said bitterly. “Sometimes I think I could be. Bu̶t ̨I̢'̢m̶ n̢ó̵͡t̨̛.͟ And I’m trying to keep it that way, something your little group  is̢n͞'ţ h̨e͠l̛p̷i͏ng̛ wi̶th́.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackie was stunned. This wasn’t how he was expecting it to go. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t get it. If Anti wanted information, why wasn’t he seeking it out? In an effort to cover up his confusion, he laughed. “Oh, good luck. Marvin’s got the house warded, and we got some upgraded manpower now that this new guy’s joined up.”

Anti smiled. “Thanks for that.”

Wait, no. “Wh-what?” Jackie stuttered.

“Now I know he’s just at your house. And I know where that is. So, th̢a͡nk͏s͞.͠” Anti turned on his heel and vanished in an explosion of pixels. All the overhead lights turned off.

Jackie just stood there for a moment. Had he really just? And given away information? But he was fine? This guy...this Anti guy...god, he was the worst. He was the fucking worst. Something needed to be done.

He leaned over and picked up the crowbar. Hey, no sense in leaving a perfectly good tool in the middle of an empty warehouse. Then he reached into his belt and took out the flashlight, making sure he could see in this new dark. He started towards the exit, taking out his phone on the way.

Chase, r u still there? he texted.

Almost immediate reply. Yeah dude! Not on Forest anymore, tho, so I guess youll need the address of the new place

No! Forget that! Jackie hurried to text. Look some big shit just went down and EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW. Get back home and tell the others im on my way

Damn dude whats the rush?

Yknow Jacks demon friend he used to talk about? The one James messed up his head of?

Yeah

Thats the rush. Now i remember Jack said this guy was all electronic so im not gonna give details but get everyone there right now. Call it a family meeting if you have to this is obligatory. Got it?

Wow. Okay that actually sounds important. On it, see you later

See u

Jackie exited the warehouse and entered the cool December night. This Anti was a threat. Not only had he interfered with Jackie’s plan, but now he wanted to get Jack back? Honestly, Jackie didn’t mind that second part so much, but he knew the others would, especially Chase. He couldn’t risk getting on the guys’ bad side.

And the way Anti had talked back there had really pissed him off. Like he was the one saving people. Nobody even knew he existed. Jackie knew he’d done more for this city than anyone else. And Anti had talked to him like that? Like he was the one messing everything up.

He was wrong. Jackie would prove it if he had to. He would show that this way was the only way.

Jackie started running back towards the house. First step was to let the others know. Next step? He hadn’t thought that far yet.

But whatever they decided, he would do it. The ends greatly justify the means.