#cesar torres x oc

[aglitchysylveon]

I drew the HAC (Hispanic Alternate Couple) again, I did this at art class and decided to color them for fun, and damn this kinda slaps.

These two are definitely gonna invade my house and force me to watch Teletubbies for 24 hours without water./j

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Perpetual Confrontation with Perpetrator

ART DOES NOT BELONG TO ME! CREDITS: skrt.skrt28 on instagram

Thunderous thumps caused the floor to rumble slightly. The three stiffened up in fear, with Cesar expressing most fear since that particular thing—whoever or whatever—was behind them made him self-unalive. 

The creature before them stood tall, its form skeletal and shadowy. Despite this, its eyes were large and cartoonish, almost uncanny. Its unnaturally long, white grin, coupled with Cesar's hairstyle, only added to the surreal nature of the creature. It now stood on all fours, its body a gradient of grey and white. The creature's hands remained as claws, and its legs ended in pointy, needle-like spikes. Skeletal spikes protruded from behind its limbs, adding to its eerie appearance. It also had a long, thin tail of many small bones that gave the illusion of fluffiness, but it was not. 

“Wait, YOU again!?” Mark’s eyes widened in shock and anger. “Y-You’re the one that murdered my friend!” He gritted his teeth, readying his gun again. 

“Reminder that he survived thanks to you mortals." The Perpetrator scoffed. "Besides, you’re out of bullets after shooting me in the face and stomach.”

The Perpetrator's words sent a chill down Mark's spine, his grip on the gun tightening reflexively. He glanced down at the empty magazine, realizing the truth in the creature's words. Fear and frustration boiled within him, the memory of his friend's death fueling his anger.

“Hey! You’re the one who almost got me killed! And you attacked my mom! What did you do to her!? Where is she!?” Cesar coughed hoarsely from recovering after nearly dying.

The Perpetrator tilted its head slightly, a grotesque mimicry of curiosity as it regarded Cesar with its eerie, too-wide eyes. "Ah, your mother?" it said, its voice dripping with a mockery of concern. “She was merely a means to an end—a way to draw you out. As for where she is now—let's just say she's somewhere you cannot reach her."

Cesar's face contorted with a mix of fear and anger. "Tú pequeño pinchazo! You son of a–" he started, his voice hoarse but filled with fury. Bubbles quickly placed a restraining hand on his arm, a silent plea to stay calm. She was a bit surprised to see Cesar swear in his native language to an Alternate.

“What do you want?” She asked, reaching in her back and taking out her bladed frisbees. 

The creature's laughter filled the room, a chilling sound that echoed off the walls. "Want? I am here to fulfill the will of our Lord and Savior. To ensure the Artisan will suffer from its losses," it said, its gaze locking onto the three. 

"But you guys seemed to have the luck of the Celestial Artisan on your side. And you three have been quite the thorn in our side. But it seems that based on the other Alternates’ observations, you’re quite… oblivious to what transpires. I’ve been getting reports that Alternates have been killed discreetly the majority of the time. So if one of us confronts you in our presence, she will take time to come, right?"

Bubbles felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. The Perpetrator was close to discovering her role as the Celestial Artisan, which meant the stakes were higher than she had feared. She needed to protect her friends and end this threat–or at least slow down and weaken it, but how?

Mark noticed the tension in Bubbles and stepped slightly in front of her, his protective instincts kicking in despite the fear that gnawed at him.

.

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*CLICK!*

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.

"You'll have to go through me first," he declared, though his empty gun offered little reassurance.

“¡Idiota! You have an empty gun!” Cesar facepalmed at his friend. “What do you think that’s going to do!?”

The brown-haired teen winced at his Hispanic friend’s words, realizing the futility of his declaration. He glanced down at the empty gun in his hand, a bitter taste of defeat filling his mouth. 

"W- What are you going to do after you kill us?" Bubbles raised an eyebrow.

"After?” The Perpetrator's grin widened a grotesque expression that sent shivers down their spines. “Oh, there is no after for you," it hissed, its voice echoing slightly in the stark, empty hospital corridor. 

"But for the world?” He snarled. “The chaos has just begun. Our Lord has plans, grand plans, and you three are but a minor nuisance to be dealt with.” He pointed three elongated fingers at them.

.

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“Once it's over, then we’ll be making more killings in this county, and once we’re powerful enough, there is nothing the Celestial Artisan can do to stop us!"

.

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The girl deadpanned.

“...Why the hell would you reveal the plan to people out loud? Are you trying to sound menacing? Because if you tell us before you kill us, there’s technically no point psychologically manipulating us since we would have believed that’s how the fate of the world would be—in fact, we’re already dead and we can’t do anything about it in the afterlife.”

She shrugged. 

The Perpetrator's smile faltered momentarily, its composure slipping at Bubbles' retort. It seemed momentarily taken aback, not expecting such a candid challenge. The creature quickly regained its menacing demeanor, though a flicker of irritation crossed its distorted features.

"You think you understand the complexities of our plans?" it sneered, the menace in its voice now tinged with condescension. "You are nothing but pawns in a much larger game, one you are far from comprehending."

Bubbles rolled her eyes, her resolve hardening despite the fear still gripping her. "Well, if you're going to kill us anyway, then why not tell us your plans? It's not like it makes a difference now." She then turned back to her friends with a small note reading: “Find a distraction.”

Cesar nodded before he looked at his friend. “Come on, let’s find one of those large canisters,” his friend muttered back to Mark as the brown-haired teen holstered his gun before looking around.

"If our demise is inevitable, why the theatrics?" she challenged, trying to keep the creature engaged. "Why not just do it and get it over with?"

"Because," it began, stepping closer, its voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "the fear, the anticipation of your end, amplifies the satisfaction.Knowing there is no escape, watching you squirm is part of the joy."

“Uh-huh… right, but wouldn’t that be a waste of time if you’re trying to accomplish something?” She added.

“Also, if you’re going to be a true villain, I think it’s best if you keep your things a secret. Technically, it is common for people to be scared of the unknown, so keeping plans in secret will make the person panic, knowing that they will not know what will happen in the future, you know?”

She gestured with a confused shrug as Cesar quietly helped Mark grab a fire extinguisher. 

The Perpetrator's eyes narrowed, its irritation evident as it processed Bubbles' words. "You think you can lecture me on fear?" it spat disdainfully. "You know nothing of true dread."

"But you're still here talking to us," Bubbles countered, her tone even but edged with a slight challenge. "Why not finish this and move on to your grand plans?"

The creature paused, its malevolent gaze flickering between the three humans as if reassessing the situation. It seemed to be contemplating its next move, perhaps not used to its prey questioning its methods.

Meanwhile, taking advantage of Bubbles's distraction, Mark and Cesar positioned themselves quietly with the fire extinguisher. Mark held it tightly, ready to use it as a makeshift weapon or diversion when the moment was right.

The Perpetrator finally hissed, "Because... I am instructed to toy with you, to break you down mentally before your inevitable demise. Fear is a tool, and I wield it masterfully."

“Well, clearly, you have it, but you’re using it improperly.” She rolled her eyes.

"You... you dare to lecture me on villainy?" it hissed, its voice tinged with anger. "You, a mere mortal, presume to understand the intricacies of our plans?"

Bubbles shrugged nonchalantly, maintaining her calm facade in the face of the creature's growing agitation. "I'm just offering some friendly advice," she said with a small smirk. “After all, if you're going to be a villain, you might as well be a good one, right?"

Bubbles noticed Mark and Cesar's silent communication and slight movements. She gave a subtle, barely perceptible nod, signaling that she understood and was ready for whatever they planned.

“Tell me, what is this one flaw that makes me a not-so-good villain?!”

"Well, you're doing a fantastic job of being a cliché," Bubbles said dryly, her voice a mix of mockery and bravado. “Also, a general rule for people–personally–never let your enemies know your next move.”

The Perpetrator's eyes seemed to burn with fury at Bubbles' taunt, its form swelling as if fueled by its growing anger. ""Cliché?? I show you power, I show you fear, and you call it cliché?" it roared, its voice echoing ominously through the empty corridors of the hospital.

“Yes, exactly!” Bubbles fired back with undiminished bravado, keeping the creature engaged and distracted. "You're following the villain's playbook to a tee. Monologuing, underestimating your opponents, and now losing your cool? Textbook."

The Perpetrator paused, taken aback by her audacity. It seemed momentarily unsure, its confidence shaken by her pointed critique. This hesitation was precisely what Bubbles aimed for—a moment of doubt that could give them an edge. “Oh… WHY YOU LITTLE—!”

Enraged, the Alternate lunged forward, its earlier caution abandoned in its fury. Cesar, who had quietly retrieved a heavy object—a small portable oxygen tank—swung it with all his strength at the creature’s head.

.

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*CLANK!*

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The tank connected with a loud clang, and the creature staggered back, more from surprise than injury. 

Mark nodded to Cesar, seizing the opportunity provided by Bubbles' distraction. With a swift, coordinated motion, Mark aimed the fire extinguisher at the Perpetrator while his Hispanic friend prepared to act as backup.

“Eat foam, sucker!” He exclaimed.

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*FWISH!*

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Mark discharged the extinguisher with a determined press, sending a cloud of white foam enveloping the creature.

The Perpetrator recoiled, its form momentarily obscured by the dense cloud. The foam barrier muffled and distorted the howl, causing the Perpetrator to let out a furious cry.

“Take this!” Bubbles shouted, grabbing a nearby chair. She swung it with all her might, aiming for where she guessed the creature might be. The chair connected with something solid, a satisfying thud resonating through the room as it made contact.

The creature stumbled out of the foam, disoriented and visibly shaken. It wiped the foam from its eyes, glaring at them with renewed malice. "You think these tricks will save you?" it hissed, regaining its composure.

"We don't need to save ourselves from someone too busy being a cliché," Mark retorted, his confidence bolstered by their successful attack.

Bubbles didn’t miss a beat, stepping forward to keep the pressure on. "If you’re going to threaten us, at least bring something new. Like I said–”

“Never let your enemies know your next move!” Cesar pulled out a small red glass vial. "¡Ahora, come un maldito tabasco, bastardo peludo y sin costillas, caricatura falsa y espeluznante!" He exclaimed before throwing it to its face, smashing the Tabasco jar.

.

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*CRACK!*

*SPLASH!*

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The glass shattered on impact, splashing the creature's face with the fiery hot sauce. The Perpetrator screeched in rage and pain, its distorted features contorting as it clawed at its burning eyes. The acidic contents of the tabasco sauce worked better than they could have hoped, momentarily incapacitating the formidable foe.

"Nice shot!" Bubbles exclaimed, throwing a supportive glance at Cesar. His improvisation had given them a critical advantage.

"Thanks! I learned that one from my mom!" Cesar quipped, managing a grin despite the adrenaline surging through his veins.

With the Perpetrator temporarily disabled, Mark, Bubbles, and Cesar didn't waste a moment. "Come on! Let’s go!" Mark said as they headed to find an exit.

As they ran, the Perpetrator's enraged howls echoed behind them, a stark reminder that their reprieve would be short-lived. They needed a plan and fast. “Mark, do you know where we can get out!?” Bubbles asked while carrying Cesar by one of his shoulders over her.

“I’ve been here before, when I was born and when I had to get my flu shots!” He remarked with a slight chuckle, trying to ease up the mood. “Once we get out of here, nothing is stopping us—”

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*CRASH!*

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An angry roar was followed as the Perpetrator appeared behind them across the hallway, smashing a few hospital cots and stretchers along the way. It had recovered from the pain, but it was mad.

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“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE!”

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It spoke in a demonic-like voice before running after them at an uncanny speed and manner.

The trio sped through the twisting hallways, Mark leading the way as they dodged debris and overturned equipment. The hospital, once a sanctuary of healing, had become a nightmarish maze with the enraged Perpetrator close behind.

"Left here!" Mark shouted as they approached a junction.

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*SQUEAK!!*

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He skidded around the corner, his familiarity with the hospital layout coming in handy under the dire circumstances. The signage above flickered sporadically, the arrow pointing towards the emergency exit offering a glimmer of hope.

Bubbles, supporting Cesar, glanced back to see the Perpetrator gaining on them. Its eyes burned with a vicious intent, and its white mouth was agape in a grotesque snarl. Their perilous situation was stark; they were outmatched in speed and might.

"Keep moving!" she urged, feeling Cesar's weight sag against her. Despite his awakening, he was far from fully recovered, his body still frail from his recent brush with death.

They reached an emergency stairwell. The door was barred with a crash bar. Mark slammed into it with his shoulder, bursting through with a grunt. The stairwell was dimly lit, the emergency lights casting long shadows that danced with their frantic movements.

"Down!" he yelled, taking the stairs two at a time. The echo of their footsteps mingled with the distant roars of the Perpetrator, its sounds growing ominously louder.

As they descended, Bubbles felt her heart pounding against her chest, not just from the physical exertion but from the fear of what might happen if they were caught. She knew they couldn't outrun the Perpetrator indefinitely. They needed a way to stop it or delay it long enough to escape.

Reaching the bottom, they burst through the door to the ground floor. The exit sign was just ahead, glowing red in the gloom. "Almost there!" Mark pointed, his voice strained with exertion and hope.

But they weren't budging open as they stepped to the automatic doors. “Oh, come on! Please work!” Cesar hoarsely coughed and grunted as Mark pounded and tried to break through the hospital doors. 

“Damn it! Why isn’t it working?” The brown-haired male kept trying to break the door. He quickly looked around and tried to find an object to break it. 

There was a patient monitor, but the screen flickered violently before a text appeared, reading, “THERE’S NO ESCAPE.”

The chilling message on the patient monitor sent a wave of dread washing over them. "Ignore it! We need to find another way out!" Bubbles insisted, her voice firm despite the fear clutching her heart.

“Any good ideas?” Cesar raised an eyebrow. “Mark,” he turned to his friends. “Do you know any doors or exits that are NOT electronically charged?”

“Not sure, but we don’t have much time.” Bubbles hummed, hearing the footsteps of the Alternate getting closer.

The brown-haired man seemed to contemplate, remembering what transpired when he was trapped in his room for three days. “Cut the power,” he flatly spoke.

His Hispanic friend looked at him incredulously. “Wait, we’re just going to turn it off? But don’t these Alternates have control over technology?”

“He means we’re going to cut the power off LITERALLY!” Bubbles emphasized. 

Mark nodded sharply, catching on to Bubbles' plan. "Exactly! If we cut the main power, it might shut down the automatic doors' locking mechanism. They should default to an unlocked state for safety during a power outage!"

Cesar, still weak but fueled by adrenaline, pushed himself to think. "The main electrical room should be in the basement. It's a standard for hospitals to have their main switches there for emergencies."

With no time to lose, they quickly made their way toward the basement, the sounds of the Perpetrator's pursuit echoing menacingly behind them. As they ran, Bubbles maintained a grip on Cesar, supporting him as they navigated the dimly lit corridors filled with the sterile scent of antiseptics and the sharp, metallic tang of fear.

The brown-haired male led the way, using his memory of the hospital layout from his previous visits. "Here, this way!" he pointed towards a door marked with a sign for 'Electrical Room.' He tried the handle, but it was locked.

“Oh, come on!” Cesar and Mark groaned in annoyance. 

“We don’t even have time to search for the key! ¡Nosotros vamos a estar muertos!” The Hispanic teen sighed. 

“I can try lock-picking it,” Bubbles said, pulling out her hairclip. “However, considering it is not a hole lock, it'll take some time.” She eyed the shape of the keylock.

Bubbles inserted her hairclip into the lock, her fingers working with practiced precision despite the tremor of adrenaline coursing through her. Each click and scrape was a silent symphony of hope as she manipulated the tumblers within. Mark and Cesar kept watch, their eyes darting nervously down the corridor, listening for the ominous sounds of their pursuer.

"Anytime now would be great," Mark muttered under his breath, the tension palpable in his voice as he clutched a nearby fire extinguisher, ready to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Just a bit more," Bubbles whispered, her concentration intense. With a final twist, a soft click echoed through the tense air—the sound of success. 

"Quick, inside!" she ushered her friends in, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the Perpetrator was not in immediate pursuit. They entered, and she shut the door, scanning the room for the main power switch.

The basement electrical room was a maze of conduit and buzzing transformers, the hum of electricity starkly contrasting their desperate silence. Mark used the flashlight to illuminate the labels on the various panels.

“Okay! We’re here, now… uh…” He trailed off, realizing they didn’t know which panels, lever, or wires to turn off. 

"¿Qué diablos es esto?" Cesar muttered in his native language. “¿¡Qué tipo de hospital no tiene etiquetas!? ¡Esto es estúpido!”

Bubbles scanned the room, her mind racing as she searched for any sign of which switch or lever controlled the main power. "We need to find the master switch," she said urgently, her voice low but determined. "Keep looking. It has to be here somewhere."

Mark nodded, his gaze sweeping over the rows of panels and switches. "There!" he exclaimed, pointing to a larger panel at the room's far end. "That looks like it could be the main power switch."

Cesar rushed over to it, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out to flip the lever. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, his heart pounding.

.

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*CLICK!*

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

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A sudden alarm blared in the electrical room, taking the trio by surprise. “AAGH!” Mark and Bubbles yelled as they held their ears. 

“Turn it off!” The brown-haired male screamed. “That’s the wrong switch! It’s going to grab attention!”

“Sorry!” The black-haired male apologized before he flipped the switch, turning the alarm off.

Cesar, still frazzled by the loud alarm, moved quickly to another switch, his eyes wide with the urgency of their situation. "Let's try this one," he said, his voice tense as he reached for a different lever, marked somewhat ambiguously with a warning sticker.

With a determined pull, the room was plunged into darkness as the main power was successfully cut. The only light now came from Mark's small flashlight, its beam flickering slightly in his shaking hand.

"Did it work?" Bubbles whispered, her voice low in the sudden silence that followed the system's powering down.

"We won't know until we get back upstairs," Mark replied, his voice steady despite the circumstances. "Let’s move quickly. The emergency lights will kick in soon, and that thing might still be on our tail."

The trio navigated their way back through the basement corridors, moving as swiftly as possible in the dim light of Mark's flashlight. The eerie quiet was unsettling, but they pressed on, driven by the need to escape.

Footsteps began to pick up as they looked everywhere for the source, and there it was—The Perpetrator—chasing after them.

"OH FUDGE! GO, GO!"

Clean Bubbles scrambled in panic as she grabbed Mark and Cesar, carrying the boys over her shoulders with an arm before running at an uncanny speed, slightly faster than the Alternate. 

“Damn! Are you a muscle woman!?” The Hispanic male exclaimed.

“What the hell!?” The brown-haired male was equally bewildered by the unexpected uncanny speed.

Reaching the ground floor, they hurried towards the main exit. This time, as they approached the automatic doors, there was a faint hum of the emergency backup power kicking in, and the doors slid open with a hesitant stutter.

"Go, go, go!" Mark shouted.

But before they burst through the doors into the cool night air, the Perpetrator pounced up from behind, slapping Bubbles with a clawed hand while she carried Mark and Cesar. 

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*WHAM!*

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The impact force sent Bubbles tumbling forward, sprawling onto the ground, away from the hospital exit. The sudden shock of hitting the floored tile jarred her senses, but her concern was immediately for the boys she had been carrying.

Mark and Cesar, propelled by the momentum, rolled away on the ground, groaning as they stopped. 

The boys scrambled to their feet, glancing back with alarm at Bubbles, who was struggling to rise. The Perpetrator towered over her, its grotesque grin widening as it prepared to strike again.

“Bubbles!” Mark shouted, rushing toward her, but Cesar grabbed his arm and held him back.

“We need another plan! Rushing in won’t help!” He hissed, scanning the area for anything they could use.

Bubbles coughed, shaking her head to clear it as she tried to stand, feeling the sting of the attack. Her eyes narrowed as she faced the looming creature. “You think you’ve won, huh?” she snarled.

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*BAM!*

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“AGH!” She coughed as a clawed hand grabbed her and slammed her body to the floor, its nails digging through her clothes and into her flesh. 

The Perpetrator chuckled darkly, its grin stretching impossibly wide. "And who's going to stop me? You?" it sneered, its voice dripping with contempt. “You mortals can’t defeat us!”

“Are you sure? You still have that Celestial Artisan kicking your butt.” She remarked despite the pain.

The Perpetrator's eyes flashed with malice at the mention of the Celestial Artisan. "Ah, but you see," it hissed, leaning close, its breath cold, "the Celestial Artisan isn't here now, is she? Just you, weak and alone."

Bubbles grunted under the creature's grip, struggling to free herself. Her eyes flickered to Mark and Cesar, who were frantically looking for anything to help.

"Who said I was fighting alone?” She gasped. “Also, you’re still terrible at being a good villain.”

“Shut up!” It snarled.

“Dude, you’re letting me talk to you so casually and not getting me to scream in agony.” Bubbles rolled her eyes at him.

The Perpetrator's grip tightened on Bubbles. Its frustration is evident in how its shadowy form quivered with rage. "Perhaps I should rectify that oversight," it growled, its voice low and menacing.

"No need to, because by the way, you fell for that one universal saying and trick people say." She cut it off.

"And what is that?"

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"Never let your enemies know your next move!"

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Mark dashed forward, holding the defibrillator paddles charged and ready. His movements were swift, the result of adrenaline-fueled desperation. Cesar was beside him, carrying a metal pole he had grabbed from a broken bed frame, acting as backup.

The Perpetrator's attention snapped back to Mark, its eyes widening as it realized too late that it had been distracted by Bubbles. Mark pressed the paddles against the creature's skeletal, shadowy form as he neared. The electrical discharge crackled loudly in the quiet hospital corridor.

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*ZZAP!*

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The Perpetrator convulsed violently under the shock, its grip on Bubbles loosening. She scrambled away, gasping for air, her clothes torn and her skin marked from the claws. The creature stumbled back, its form flickering and distorting like a static-filled TV screen, momentarily disoriented by the sudden electrical assault.

“Now, Cesar!” Mark shouted, already retreating to ready another charge from the defibrillator.

Cesar swung the metal pole with all his might, aiming for the creature’s head. 

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*CLANK!*

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The impact echoed through the corridor with a resounding clang, further disorienting the Perpetrator. It roared in frustration and pain, the sound chilling and otherworldly.

Bubbles, now on her feet, didn’t waste the moment. She swiftly joined the fray, pulling out another of her bladed frisbees. With a skilled flick of her wrist, she spun it towards the creature, aiming for its large, cartoonish eyes. The frisbee sliced through the air with deadly precision.

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*SLICE!*

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The frisbee cut a shallow gash across the creature's face, causing it to shriek and recoil further. Bubbles found a discarded IV stand. She swiftly ripped the metal pole from its base and wielded it like a spear.

The Perpetrator, reeling from the repeated electrical shocks, was slow to defend itself against Bubbles' improvised weapon. She thrust the sharp end of the IV pole forward with all her might, aiming for a weak spot in the creature's armor-like skin.

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*THUNK!*

*SPLACK!*

*SQUISH!*

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The pole tip pierced through, causing a dark, ichorous liquid to ooze. The Perpetrator shrieked, its voice echoing a terrifying mix of human agony and otherworldly rage. It flailed wildly, attempting to dislodge the pole, but Bubbles pushed forward, driving it deeper.

"Let's move! Now!" Bubbles commanded as the Perpetrator began to falter. The creature's movements grew sluggish, its attacks less coordinated. Sensing their advantage, Mark and Cesar supported each other and limped towards the exit, their bodies bruised but not broken.

Bubbles gave the IV pole one final push before turning to join her friends. As they neared the automatic doors, she glanced back to see the Perpetrator collapsing to the ground and struggling to remove the pole from its chest.

They burst through the doors into the cool night air. The sudden change from the hospital's claustrophobic atmosphere to the open, breezy outside world felt like a liberation. The hospital's exterior lights flickered ominously behind them, casting long shadows across the parking lot.

"We need to get out of here fast!" Mark said, panting heavily as they left the building.

However, Clean Bubbles paused in her tracks, looking at the hospital halls. She knew how fast Alternates could run, and if they could catch up with them, then they’d be running nonstop until they were dead.

“Bubbles! What are you doing!?” Cesar hissed. “The lights will turn back on, and the door will shut!”

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*CLICK! Click! Click!*

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“Keeping it at bay.” She remarked, not moving from her place as she looked at the abandoned hospital.

“What!?” Mark stopped and looked back. “What are you thinking!? Are you going to die for us!?”

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*CLICK! Click! Click!*

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“I know I won’t die.” She clenched her fist with determination as the emergency power started to kick in. “But listen,” the blue-and-black-haired girl turned to them.

“If this Alternate can follow us anywhere, we’ll be constantly on the run. However, if I can get this guy trapped somewhere in the hospital, then it won’t chase us.”

“What about you!? Don’t push us away like you did last time!” Cesar exclaimed. 

“I’m not, but fine then. Come get me if I don’t return from the hospital after 30 minutes.” She nodded.

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*CLICK!*

*SLAM!*

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The lights flickered on, and the automatic doors were sealed shut, locking her and the boys apart.

[beeep97]

arts!! and me real life with X Chara and a selfshipp

[deadolloading]

Solicitudes

Presentación de mi perfil, lo que escribo, reglas.

¡Hola pequeña personita! Me presento, soy deadolloading aún que pueden decirme Joven D, Doll, Dolly o como gustes. Mis pronombres son She/Her/Him, ¡Pero puedes decirme como sea!

Mi blog es totalmente en contenido en español, esto es debido a que no se mucho de inglés y hasta que no lo aprenda en su totalidad, no haré contenido en inglés.

El contenido de mi perfil apunta específicamente a todo lo relacionado con fanfics, pequeños escritos míos, etc. Igualmente los fanfics van del famoso Character x Reader o como el famoso Character x T/N.

Personas de cualquier edad, genero, creencia o nacionalidad ¡Es completamente bienvenido! Ya que mi contenido va para todo público ya que me incomoda escribir cualquier cosa NSFW, por lo que todo mi contenido es SFW, en caso de ser lo contrario se pide que no interactúen con esa publicación.

Requests are open!

Lea esto antes de solicitar cualquier fanfic, headcanon y esas cosas (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

Nota: A veces no puedo publicar mucho debido a lo ocupado que suelo estar.

Soy muy imaginativo con headcanons, escenarios/drabbles y es posible que veas mucho de eso en mi perfil, pero nada de fanfics o one-shots y tendrás que esperar mucho tiempo para que haga uno.

Por favor, no envíe hagas spam de solicitudes porque en esos caso no lo haré.

Si no publico un post muy largo, puede ser porque no tengo mucha imaginación en ese momento, disculpas de antemano.

¡El inglés no es mi primer idioma! Así que lo siento mucho por lo que solo escribiré en español.

Cuando pida algo en mi bandeja, por favor dame detalles de lo que quieres, como una parte específica que desea que agregue, qué personaje, género del lector, etc.

Solo puede escribir de 2 a 3 personajes a la vez.

Quiero que este lugar sea seguro tanto para mí como para los lectores.

Tengo todo el derecho a rechazar una solicitud, especialmente si rompe con las reglas que ya tengo.

Acepto escribir

Relaciones poliamorosas.

Dolor/comodidad.

Pelusa.

Amor, oc x character

No acepto escribir

Incesto

Sexo/NSFW

Violencia

Pedofilia, zoofilia

Relaciones altamente tóxicas

Fandoms y personajes para los que escribo !

Videojuegos

Phantom of the Opera - MazM

Christine Daae Sorelli Dupont Melek Levni Detective Hatim Eric

Genshin Impact

Sucrose Rosaria Beidou Amber Kaeya Diluc Jean Aloy Lisa

Mario Bros

Princess Peach Princess Daisy Rosalina Pauline Mario Luigi

Cuphead

Baroness Von Bon Bon Chef Saltbaker Cala Maria Hilda Berg

Five Night's at Freddy's

Michael Afton William Afton Henry Emily Clara Afton Animatronics

Sims 4

Elvira Lapida

Series/Anime/ARG

The Mandela Catalogo

Cesar Torres Mark Heathcliff Adam Murray Jonah Marshall Arcangel Gabriel Alt!Archangel Gabriel Sarah Heathcliff

Popee the Performer

Papi Poppe Eepop Kedamono

Kimetsu no Yaiba

Tanjiro Kamado Nezuko Kamado Inosuke Hashibira Zenitsu Agatsuma Muzan Kibutsuji Kagaya Ubuyashiki Kyōjurō Rengoku Obanai Iguro Gyomei Himejima Tengen Uzui Shinjuro Rengoku Mitsuri Kanroji Shinobu Kochō

Welcome Home

Wally Darling Julie Joyful Barnaby B. Beagle Frank Frankly Eddie Dear Howdy Pillar Sally Starlet Poppy Partridge

My Hero Academia

Kyoka Jiro Eijiro Kirishima Denki Kaminari Mei Hatsume Mt. Lady Tsuyu Asui Tenya Iida Endeavor Ochako Uraraka Momo Yaoyorozu

Sakura CardCaptor

Tomoyo Daidōji Tōya Kinomoto Yukito Tsukishiro Maki Matsumoto Nadeshiko Kinomoto Syaoran Li Fujitaka Kinomoto Kaho Mizuki Sakura Kinomoto Clow Reed Caras Clow

Sailor Moon

Usagi Tsukino Rei Hino Makoto Kino Ami Mizuno Minako Aino Haruka Teno Michiru Kaio Setsuna Meio Nephrite Mamoru Chiba/Tuxedo Mask Kou Seiya Kou Yaten Kou Taiki

Dragon Ball

Gohan Veggetta Piccolo Trunks Broly Androide 18 Androide 17 Whis Krilin

Scooby-Doo

Vilma Dinkley Daphne Blake Shaggy Rogers Fred Jones

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Montgomery Montgomery Violet Baudelaire Klaus Baudelaire Georgina Orwell Justice Strauss Fernald Fiona Kit Snicket Lemony Snicket  Gustav Sebald

Marvel/DC Comics

Solo agregare unos personajes

Doctor Octopus - Spiderman Miguel O'Hara - Spiderman Ghost Spider - Spiderman Spider-Man Noir - Spiderman Doctor Stranger - Marvel Peggy Carter - Marvel Raven - DC Comics Starfire - DC Comics Beast Boy - DC Comics Green Arrow - DC Comics

Moral Orel

Bloberta Puppington Clay Puppington Rod Putty Stephanie Putty Nurse Bendy

The Amazing Digital Circus

Ragatha x Reader Pomni x Reader Caine x Moon Caine x Reader Jax x Reader Gingle x Reader

Otros personajes (serie o película)

Miss Peregrine - Miss Peregrine y el hogar para chicos peculiares Carrie - Carrie 1976 Michael Myers - Halloween Jason Voorhees - Viernes 13 Thomas Hewitt - Masacre en Texas 2006 Ghostface - Danny Johnson Phantom of the Opera - Movie 2004 Blue Diamont - Steven Universe Yellow Diamond - Steven Universe Personajes de Disney - Solo si lo conozco

⠀⠀ ⠀ Reglas ⛧ ?!

ㅤㅤ⛧ Especificar por favor lo que quieren, no soy adivina. Si quieren cierta situación especifica, ese tipo de cosas ya saben.

ㅤㅤ⛧ Al momento de escribir para lectores, lo diré de una vez, no se mucho de pronombres. Por lo que si quieres de un personaje no binario o algo así, por favor dime como es su uso de pronombres para escribirlo y te sientas cómodo.

ㅤㅤ⛧ Esto totalmente abierta a la idea de escribir OC x Character, para eso pido que en privado me den algo de información de su oc. Alguna ficha, descripción de personalidad y física, ese tipo de cosas.

ㅤㅤ⛧ Pido que me tengan paciencia, suele escribir de forma muy tardada debido a mi gran bloqueo de escritor. Ténganme paciencia, soy nuevo en esto :').

ㅤㅤ⛧ ¡Pueden pedirme cualquier cosa! Romance, platónico, relación padre/madre e hijx, de hermandad, etc.

ㅤㅤ⛧ Por favor, pido respeto ya que esto es como un tipo de pasatiempo para mi. No vengo a molestar a nadie y tampoco vengo a que me molesten. Si no les gusta mi perfil o tienes problemas conmigo, te pido amablemente que dejes mi perfil y con gusto puedes bloquearme.

Eso sería todo por mi parte, bienvenidos a mi perfil y espero que les guste mi contenido.

¡Nos vemos!

[violetspots1]

OK, so I've been holding it off for a while (mostly because I wanted to make art for this, but due to circumstances I can't put the original pieces and I'm still working on the new one's), but I feel like you deserve some context on that Mandela Catalogue x Demon Slayer au I've had laying around so he we go.

This au follow's a lot of beats in KNY, but with Mandela character's + some oc's plastered on with a few small changes. I wrote a whole explanation on the Lore, but it's long as hell so I'll try to simplify it as much as I can:

(Quick context: Mark started living with Cesar and Mrs Torres after his mother left and his father died. She like's to help out whenever she can, feeling like she owes them. Also, don't think about the location/time period too much, I didn't really think through it.)

During a harsh winter, Mrs Torres get's sick and Cesar stay's home to take care of her, asking Mark to get some medicine after selling the coal. Not being one to refuse his friend, Mark agrees and head's down the mountain to the village of Mandela. After finishing her round's, Mark get's the medicine Cesar needed and make's her way back up the mountain.

It was getting dark and a storm was picking up. Halfway up the mountain, Mark is stopped by Noah (an oc/young father whose family live's close to the Torres')who warn's her about the storm and demon's coming out during the night. Noah insists that Mark stay the night with his family, who are just about to have dinner, and despite his initial refusal, the younger boy join's them for the night.

After that, Noah give's Mark the basic explanation that Tanjiro got about demon's and demon slayer's, you know the drill. Poor thing goes to sleep scared that night.

The next morning, Mark continues his way up the mountain with more speed than he did yesterday. He finally approaches the Torres house when the smell of blood suddenly fill's his senses. Scared, she quickly grab's a hatchet from outside and carefully make's her way to the front door. When she open's it, she see's Cesar's bloodied body pressed against his mother's, a pool of blood right under her. This, naturally, scare's the hell out of Mark and he immediately check's on the two. Mrs Torres, unfortunately, wasn't breathing, but somehow Cesar still had a pulse. Mark was relieved to know that her best friend survived and quickly slung him over her shoulder's in order to get him help.

While running down the mountain, Cesar slowly start's to come into consciousness. Mark tries to reassure his friend that they'll get help for his wounds, but the half dead boy just growl's instead of saying anything. Suddenly, Cesar freak's out causing Mark to lose his balance and the two fall off the cliff they were near. Thankfully, with a mix of snow and anime bullshit, the two survive the fall almost completely unscathed.

Mark, still a bit panicked from the fall, tries to find Cesar only to see him standing perfe tly fine. She ask's him if he's hurt when he suddenly lunges straight at her. Confused, Mark tries to reason with Cesar, but all he get's is a slew of incoherent growling.

Wouldn't ya know, Cesar had been turned into a demon!

Some emotional scene's later, the two are suddenly ambushed by a demon slayer, who is none other than Thatcher Davis, him freaking self!

Thatcher, being a demon slayer, is responsible for putting Cesar out of his misery, but Mark isn't going to let his friend die that easily, regardless of him being a demon or not. She decide's that she will become a demon slayer herself, kill whoever did this to Cesar, and cure him.

While Thatcher is impressed by her determination, he isn't just gonna let a demon go because of a probably empty promise. The two human's get in a fight that end's with the older of the two knocking the other out. Thatcher tries to get back to killing the demon, but Cesar manage's to escape in the struggle and sneak attack's the man. Then, seeing Mark unconscious, he run's right to him and just before Thatcher can pull out his blade….Cesar stand's protectively in front of his friend. This is what finally convinces Thatcher to give the kid a chance.

Mark wake's up to find Cesar unconscious and gagged right next to him. Thatcher explain's that he (Cesar) will need to stay out of the sun and must wear the mouthpiece in order to prevent him from eating any human's. He then leaves the two, but not before giving them a note to meet with the water hashira in the mountain's, who will help Mark in her training.

And that's the plot! There are other character's here, of course, but wanted to start with the first episode's plot and work my way up (I don't watch much demon slayer), so this is all you're getting. Still, I hope you like my au! I will eventually post some designs (maybe even some scene edits or whatever they're called), but that will have to wait!

[yetanotherrpfinder]

HELLO! trying this again, with the need for new rps!

- i am 19nb looking for rp partners who are no older than 30!

- i live in the pdt time zone!

- i do have a job!!! so i tend to get busy! i’ll notify you whenever i’m working or not, usually.

- i range from lit to novella in 1 on 1’s

- i’m okay with (and may even encourage) nsfw! as long as the characters are of age of course

- im sorta rusty on plots, all of them are pretty basic topics… unless you’re okay with basic topics LMAO

- i don’t have many socials, so we’d probably have to roleplay on here, or we could probably move to,,, google classrooms???? I DUNNO MAN… (I DO NOT HAVE DISCORD due to personal reasons <3)

- if i don’t respond PLEASE REMIND ME like a day or two later not like an hour later 😭

and here’s my fandoms and characters! (🪷 means i have strong motivation for it)

(ps: i don’t mind cc x oc, as long as i’m playing the cc and your oc isn’t op LMAO)

DANGANRONPA

- amami rantaro

amami x saihara 🪷

amami x ouma 🪷

- naegi makoto

naegi x kuwata

- kuwata leon

kuwata x soda

kuwata x maizono

kuwata x owada

kuwata x naegi

TOTAL DRAMA

- noah sterecra

noah x cody 🪷

noah x owen

noah x alejandro

- cody anderson

cody x noah 🪷

cody x trent

THE MANDELA CATALOGUE

- cesar torres

cesar & mark (queerplatonic) 🪷

- jonah marshall

jonah & adam (queerplatonic) (… unless.. /hj) 🪷

JOURNEY TO THE WEST / LEGO MONKIE KID

- mk

mei & mk (queerplatonic)

red son x mk 🪷

- sun wu kong

sun wu kong x six-earred macaque

sun wu kong x erlang shen 🪷

- li ne zha

li ne zha x long nu

li ne zha & ao bing (platonic/brotherly) 🪷

like this post and i’ll send you a dm asap!

Like if interested!

[findroleplay]

HELLO! trying this again, with the need for new rps!

- i am 19nb looking for rp partners who are no older than 30 and no younger than 17!

- i live in the pdt time zone!

- i do have a job!!! so i tend to get busy! i’ll notify you whenever i’m working or not, usually.

- i range from lit to novella in 1 on 1’s

- i’m okay with nsfw! as long as YOU are of age, and the characters are of age :)

- im sorta rusty on plots, all of them are pretty basic topics… unless you’re okay with basic topics LMAO

- i don’t have many socials, so we’d probably have to roleplay on here, or we could probably move to,,, google classrooms???? I DUNNO MAN… (I DO NOT HAVE DISCORD due to personal reasons <3)

- if i don’t respond PLEASE REMIND ME like a day or two later not like an hour later 😭

and now for my fandoms and muses! (🪷 means i have high motivation)

(ps: i don’t mind cc x oc, as long as i’m playing the cc and your oc isn’t op LMAO)

DANGANRONPA

- amami rantaro

amami x saihara 🪷

amami x ouma 🪷

- naegi makoto

naegi x kuwata

- kuwata leon

kuwata x soda

kuwata x maizono

kuwata x owada

kuwata x naegi

TOTAL DRAMA

- noah sterecra

noah x cody 🪷

noah x owen

noah x alejandro

- cody anderson

cody x noah 🪷

cody x trent

THE MANDELA CATALOGUE

- cesar torres

cesar & mark (queerplatonic) 🪷

- jonah marshall

jonah & adam (queerplatonic) (… unless.. /hj) 🪷

JOURNEY TO THE WEST / LEGO MONKIE KID

- mk

mei & mk (queerplatonic)

red son x mk 🪷

- sun wu kong

sun wu kong x six-earred macaque

sun wu kong x erlang shen 🪷

- li ne zha

li ne zha x long nu

li ne zha & ao bing (platonic/brotherly) 🪷

like this post and i’ll send you a dm asap!

_

[aglitchysylveon]

Behold, I colored that one post of the evil Hispanic Alternate Couple, enjoy them in their full glory.

I also decided to stripe Cecelia of her smile because she isn't allowed to smile/j, I dunno I thought she looked better frowning now I kinda regret it tbh.

[aglitchysylveon]

I finally did that one shitpost for the HAC, of their "relationship dynamic" meme.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

A Pray that Preys

“AAAAAAAHHH!” 

Mark screeched as he woke up, panting heavily. “Oh… Oh my god!” he panted. Checking his clock, he saw that it was still 10:30 PM. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. The remnants of the nightmare still clung to his mind like a sinister fog. He glanced around the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for any sign of the creature that had haunted his dreams.

But the room was empty, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. No twisted figures lurked in the shadows, no echoing whispers haunting the silence.

It had just been a dream. A horrifying, vivid nightmare that felt all too real.

Mark ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart. "Just a dream," he muttered, though the images still lingered vividly. "Just a stupid, messed-up dream."

But even as he tried to convince himself, unease remained. The nightmare had felt too real, too visceral to brush aside simply. He couldn't shake the dread that clung to him like a shadow, whispering dark secrets in the depths of his subconscious.

Shaking his head, Mark forced himself to focus on the present. He needed to clear his mind and push aside the lingering fear. Glancing at the clock again, he realized it was still early. Perhaps a cup of tea would help calm his nerves.

With a determined nod, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, his muscles still tense from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He needed to clear his head and shake off the lingering dread that clung to him like a second skin.

Making his way to the kitchen, Mark flicked on the lights, bathing the room in a warm, comforting glow. He poured himself a glass of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat as he leaned against the counter, lost in thought.

The nightmare had been unlike anything he had ever experienced, a twisted journey into the darkest corners of his mind. But as terrifying as it had been, there was a part of him that couldn't shake the feeling that it held some semblance of truth.

Bubbles… Was she hiding something from him? Could she be harboring secrets that threatened their friendship? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he knew he couldn't let fear dictate his actions.

He needed answers and wouldn't rest until he uncovered the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

Mark drained the last of his water with a determined set to his jaw and set the glass aside. He felt that the nightmare was just the beginning and that something would go way wrong.

*Thump… thump…*

*Creak…*

That same strange noise again… footsteps and board creaking… just like his dream. And that noise… it was coming from his living room.

The hairs on the back of Mark's neck stood on end as he froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest. The echoes of his nightmare still lingered, intensifying the sense of dread that gripped him.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to investigate and the fear that gripped him like a vice. But he couldn't ignore the possibility that something was amiss, especially after the vivid nightmare he had just endured.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Mark tiptoed out of the kitchen, his steps cautious and deliberate. Every creak of the floorboards sounded deafening in the otherwise silent house, sending shivers down his spine.

As he approached the living room, the strange noises grew louder, filling the air with an eerie sense of foreboding. He held his breath, his hand trembling as he reached to push the door open.

The room was dark, the only light filtering in from the moon outside. Mark strained his ears, listening intently for any sign of movement.

And then, he heard it.

A soft whisper, barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. It sent a chill down his spine, raising goosebumps on his skin.

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Was someone else in the house? Or was it just his imagination playing tricks on him once again?

He took a cautious step forward, his senses on high alert. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn and run, to flee from whatever unseen danger lurked in the darkness.

But he couldn't bring himself to retreat, not when the possibility of danger loomed so close. Steeling himself, Mark took another step forward, his pulse racing in his ears.

And then, he saw it.

A shadowy figure is lurking in the corner of the room. It was tall and menacing, its features shrouded in darkness.

Mark's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure, his mind reeling with fear and confusion. Who—or what—was it? And what did it want with him?

Before he could make sense of the situation, the figure moved, its movements fluid and graceful. It stepped out of the shadows, revealing itself to be…

Cesar.

He looked… like his typical friend. He was just a little bit shorter than Mark. He had his normal-styled black hair. He was wearing his suit like always.

“Oh… hey, Mark.” Cesar waved. “Y-You kind of left your door open. So I stepped in and wanted to check to see if you’re alright.” He chuckled with a nervous grin. But his voice sounded unnaturally flat…

Mark's heart raced as he stared at the figure, his mind spinning with confusion. This wasn't possible. Cesar was his friend, his confidant. There was no way he could be standing here in his living room, looking so… off.

"C-Cesar?" Mark stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that really you?"

The figure nodded, its movements stiff and unnatural. "Yeah, it's me," it replied, its voice devoid of emotion. "I just wanted to check on you. You seemed… troubled."

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Something wasn't right. Cesar's demeanor, his voice… it was all wrong.

"What's going on, Cesar?" Mark asked, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "Why do you sound like that? And why did you come here in the middle of the night?"

The figure's lips curled into a twisted smile, chilling Mark's spine. "Oh, you know," it replied, its voice dripping with malice. "Just wanted to have a little chat, that's all."

The brown-haired male’s heart pounded as he took a cautious step back. This wasn't his friend. This was something else, wearing Cesar's face like a mask.

"W-What chat?" Mark warned, his voice trembling. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, you're not welcome here."

The figure's smile widened, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "Oh, but I think you'll find that I'm quite welcome," it taunted, taking a step closer. "After all, we have so much to discuss."

Mark's mind raced as he searched for a way out of the nightmare unfolding before him. He needed to think and come up with a plan. But fear gripped him like a vice, paralyzing his thoughts and leaving him helpless against the looming threat. “W-Who—“

“Hm~ Let me give you a hint…” It purred darkly. “Does a little girl with the strange name ring a bell? That’s who I want to tell you: her darkest secrets~”

Mark's blood ran cold as the Alternate mentioned the name—Bubbles. Clean Bubbles was his friend, the one who had been in constant presence with him, and Cesar, the one who acted weird when she got a peculiar dog bite at the arcade.

"What do you know about Bubbles?" Mark demanded, his voice trembling with fear and anger. "What secrets are you talking about?"

The Alternate chuckled darkly, its eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, Mark," it taunted, taking another step closer. "You really have no idea, do you? Your precious friend has been keeping secrets from you, dark and dangerous secrets."

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the creature's words. Bubbles had always been there for him and Cesar, supporting him through thick and thin, and that’s what they did in return. She would never betray them, would she?

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness like a persistent itch. What if there was some truth to what the figure was saying? What if Bubbles wasn't who she claimed to be?

He shook his head, trying to push aside the doubts that threatened to overwhelm him. "You're lying," he spat, his voice laced with anger and defiance. "Bubbles would never betray me. She's my friend, my confidant."

The Alternate’s smile widened, its eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Mark, Mark, Mark" it chuckled, taking another step closer. "You really have no idea, do you? Your friend is not who you think she is. And I'm here to show you the truth."

With a sudden, fluid motion, the figure lunged forward, its hands outstretched. Mark stumbled back, his heart pounding as he swiftly headed back upstairs, locking his bedroom door. He gulped and shivered as he heard scratching noises of wood against his door. 

"L-L-Let me in, M-M-Mark~" Cesar's voice from the Alternate spoke outside of his room. "I-I-I-I have a gift for you-you-you-you~ I have a prese-en-en-en-ent. I have a surprise~! I will not hurt you~"

Mark's hands trembled as he pressed his back against the locked door, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty. The scratching sound outside his room sent chills down his spine, amplifying the sense of dread that gripped him like a vice.

He knew he couldn't trust whatever lurked on the other side of the door, no matter how much it sounded like his friend. The way it spoke, the way it moved… it was all wrong.

Taking a shaky breath, Mark forced himself to focus. He needed to find a way out of this nightmare, to escape the clutches of whatever malevolent force was lurking in his home.

But as he glanced around the room, his eyes fell on the window, the only possible means of escape. His heart sank as he realized it was too high to reach, leaving him trapped like a rat in a cage.

Panic surged through him, threatening to overwhelm his already frayed nerves. He needed to think and devise a plan, but fear clouded his thoughts, leaving him paralyzed with indecision.

The scratching outside his door grew louder, more insistent, sending waves of terror coursing through Mark's veins. He knew he couldn't stay here, trapped and helpless, waiting for whatever horror awaited him on the other side.

He fumbled with his phone, trying to call for the Mandela Police Department. He put the phone to his ear, trying to see if they responded, but it was all static.

"Damn it!" Mark cursed as he tried calling Bubbles, but a voice message was left for him when he left his house to set up the cameras at his friend's house. "Voice message?" He muttered as he clicked it.

"::Hey, Mark,::" Bubbles's voice from the recording spoke. "::I... I know I haven't talked to you yet, but I felt that Cesar already told you I've been dragging you two down with me and bringing you into my problems. Your friend is right, I'm... I've been the thorn in your side in a world full of Alternates.::" 

Her voice cracked slightly, followed by a sniffle. "::I've been feeling like a burden for you two. I've been trying to figure out my own problems and how to solve them, but I swear- I'm trying to figure something out. I don't want to keep putting you guys down with me. I'm sorry... but I'll be staying distant with you for some time...::"

His grip on the phone tightened as Bubbles's message played. The familiar warmth of her voice, now laced with sadness and regret, sent a pang through his heart. The doubts planted by the Alternate grew stronger, gnawing at his mind.

"No," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "This can't be true."

He replayed Bubbles's message, trying to decipher any hidden meaning or clue that could explain the situation. Why was she distancing herself now? What was she hiding?

The scratching outside his door stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence. Mark's breath hitched as he strained to hear any sign of movement. The silence was deafening, amplifying the dread that gripped him.

"Oh, Mar-ar-ar-ark~," The Alternate said, mocking and replicating Cesar's voice. "Are you finally ready to hear the tru-u-u-u-uth?" The Alternate's smile widened, its cartoonish eyes gleaming with malice as its voice glitched and lagged while talking. 

"D-Do I have to make you OPEN YOUR EYES, MARK?" It snarled with a hint of distortion. "Just OPEN THE DAMN DOOR." It began scratching against the wooden, locked door to Mark's room. "No one is coming for you, so minus, well, open it... besides, you can learn the truth about your friend~."

Mark's heart raced as he listened to the mocking voice outside his door, his mind reeling with fear and uncertainty. The scratching sound sent shivers down his spine, echoing in the silence of his room like a sinister refrain.

He knew he couldn't trust whatever lurked on the other side, no matter how convincing it sounded. But the doubts planted by the Alternate's words lingered, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness like a persistent itch.

Bubbles's message played in his mind, her voice laden with sadness and regret. What was she hiding? And why was she distancing herself from him now when he needed her the most?

With a shaky breath, Mark forced himself to focus. He needed to think and devise a plan to escape the nightmare that had consumed his home.

But as he glanced around the room, his eyes again fell on the window. It was still too high to reach, leaving him trapped with no means of escape.

Panic surged through him, threatening to overwhelm his already frayed nerves. He needed to find a way out, to escape the clutches of whatever malevolent force was lurking in his home.

His mind raced as he considered his options. He could try to wait it out, hope that whoever—or whatever—was outside his door would eventually give up and leave. But the scratching continued, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

Time was running out, and Mark knew he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He needed to act, to find a way to break free from the nightmare that had trapped him in his own home. "Open the door, Mark," the Perpetrator’s voice insisted, its tone dripping with malice. "You know you want to know the truth."

“Shut up! I won’t let you lay a hand on her!” The human shouted from the other side of the door. “If you’re after me, then you can do nothing to her!”

The special Alternate's form wavered outside the door, its face contorting into a grotesque mockery of Cesar's features. "You fool... Do you think you can fight me? You think you can protect her?" it hissed, its voice dripping with venom.

"Stay away from Bubbles!" Mark snarled, grabbing his gun from beneath the bed and loading up his Desert Eagle. He had several bullets loaded in his ammunition, so it was enough for him to defend himself.

"She doesn't need your protection," it taunted, its voice echoing with a sinister undertone. "She's already lost. And so are you. You're trapped, and I know you'll eventually open the door."

"You don't know anything about Bubbles, my friend," Mark said, his voice steadying as he aimed a gun at where the Alternate was supposedly standing behind the door. "You're just a twisted, monstrous imitation."

It mocked, its voice oozing with false honey and sweetness. "Oh really? How about I help remind you that she pushed YOU away." The Perpetrator darkly chuckled, its voice switching to Bubbles, except a little more distorted than her voice. 

"Because you keep stepping into her uncharted territory. You're stepping into her precious little world that she must keep fixing because of YOU. You keep breaking into her little personal boundaries that push her buttons. That's why she HATES you."

Mark's blood ran cold at the Alternate's words, the doubt and fear gnawing at the edges of his mind. Could it be true? Had he been pushing Bubbles away without realizing it? Was that why she had distanced herself from him?

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible over his heart pounding. "That's not true. Bubbles wouldn't hate me. She's my friend. She would never—"

"Ah, but you see," the Alternate interrupted, its voice dripping with malice. "You never really knew her at all, did you? You never saw the darkness that lurks beneath the surface, the secrets she keeps hidden from the world."

Mark tightened his grip on the gun, his hands trembling with anger and uncertainty. No matter how convincing the Perpetrator's lies sounded, he couldn't let himself be swayed by them.

"Bubbles is not your friend," the Alternate continued, its voice growing louder and more insistent. "She's a liar, a deceiver. And she'll do whatever it takes to protect herself, even if it means sacrificing you."

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Bubbles had always been there for him and Cesar, supporting them through thick and thin. Even though they met her and got to know her for a few weeks and a couple of months, she was still a good person to them. She would never betray him, would she?

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!” He clenched and gritted his teeth in frustration, denying what the Alternate spoke of. 

There must be another reason she distances herself from him and Cesar, right? 

She did mention that she was hiding something dangerous and the way she was crying… regret, fear, and sadness all in one before she forced them out of her house. 

Perhaps she was the magnet of the danger? Is that why…?

“She is neither of those! She isn’t!” The brown-haired male found his eyes filled with tears, in denial, and the painful pulsating ache of betrayal stirred in his heart. “She is… She is my friend! She is my and Cesar’s friend!”

“Say what you want, but you know it’s true~.” The Alternate smirked outside, relishing Mark's disbelief and confusion. “Can’t you hear your doubt in your voice? The uncertainty? Betrayal? This contradicts what you’re speaking of. Did you think you knew her at all? Didn’t you keep stepping into her little world of her own of selfishness, lies, and deceptions?” It asked as the Alternate’s voice switched between Cesar's and Bubbles’s. 

“Shut up… I know her… I do…” Mark trailed off, realizing the uncertainty and doubt of believing in Bubbles. “Just… Stop using my friends’ voice!”

“You didn’t.” Its voice went cold, mixed with a distorted Cesar and Bubbles’s in one instead of switching. “You’re never her friend if you don’t know her well. She didn’t trust you because of your interference. You keep stepping in her boundaries where she doesn’t want you to belong. Like I said… You were only scratching the surface of her shell.”

Mark's hands shook violently as he pressed his back against the wall opposite the door, the weight of the Alternate’s words heavy on his chest. Doubts swirled in his mind, a storm of fear, anger, and confusion. Every word the creature spoke clawed at his resolve, attempting to fracture his belief in his friend.

"You're lying!" Mark screamed, his voice cracking. "You don't know anything about Bubbles!"

The scratching outside the door ceased abruptly, replaced by an eerie, mocking silence. The human’s breath hitched as he listened, every second stretching into an eternity.

"Open the door, Mark," the Alternate whispered, its voice a chilling amalgamation of Cesar’s and Bubbles’s as one. "Face the truth. Open your eyes."

Mark's heart pounded a relentless drumbeat of fear. He couldn't let this monster win, couldn't let it poison his mind against his friends. He had to fight back, had to cling to what he knew was real. 

However, it’ll get him killed, and then Bubbles… will she even care if he’s gone?

No…

No…!

NO!

The brown-haired male shook his head. Whether she cared or not, survival was all that mattered to him. But he knows he can’t wait too long. He had to do something. Fighting was one option, but that’s instant death. Escaping through the window… too high for a height. Call for help… he already tried the police, but there was nothing except for static. He can try to call again, except…

The Celestial Artisan…

She’s got to be out there, somewhere, right!? Like what the news says, she hunts down these Alternates. She’s supposedly known as ‘God’s gift to humanity’ or ‘humanity’s hope’ to the entire Mandela County. But the thing is that no one knows if she’s some divine being. There were times that she was seen several times, but it was only if there was a significant presence of Alternates.

Pray.

That’s what the people say. 

Pray for God’s gift to come and save them. Mark was in religion, Christianity. So if something supernatural like Alternates exists, so does the Celestial Artisan’s divine presence, right?

Mark's hands trembled as he clung to the slim hope of salvation. His mind raced, trying to piece together fragments of belief and desperation. He remembered the whispered prayers of those who had survived encounters with the Alternates, the tales of the Celestial Artisan—God's gift to humanity. This divine protector intervened in their darkest moments.

The creature outside the door continued to scratch and taunt, its voice dripping with malice. But Mark forced himself to focus, to drown out the sinister whispers and cling to his faith. He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together in fervent prayer.

"God," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and hope. "Please, send your gift to save me. If the Celestial Artisan is real, if she's truly your messenger, please send her to protect me and my friends. I don't know what else to do. Please, help me."

The scratching outside the door grew louder, more frantic as if the Alternate sensed the shift in Mark's resolve. But he ignored it, his eyes squeezed shut, pouring every ounce of his faith into his plea.

"Please, God, help me," he repeated, his voice growing stronger. "Protect Bubbles and Cesar. Protect us all from this evil."

Seconds extended to minutes, which felt like hours passing to an eons. His heart sank as he felt a chill run down his spine, the doubt and uncertainty creeping back into his mind. 

Was his faith in the Celestial Artisan misplaced? Was there truly no hope for salvation? 

“M-M-Mark~” The Perpetrator’s glitchy voice switched back to Cesar's only. “Open the door and face the truth. I still got the gift~. Nobody is coming for you.” Its voice shifted between malice and fake sweetness. “NOT EVEN THE CELESTIAL ARTISAN WILL COME AND SAVE YOU.”

The brown-haired teen shook his head, trying to push aside the doubt and fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to hold onto his faith, to believe that help would come when he needed it most.

The scratching outside his door grew louder and more insistent, and his resolve wavered. He couldn't ignore the reality of the situation, couldn't deny the terrifying truth that he was alone and trapped with a malevolent force lurking just beyond his reach.

With a trembling hand, Mark reached for his phone once more, his fingers shaking as he dialed 911. He pressed the phone to his ear, praying for a response, for someone—anyone—to come to his aid.

But all he heard was the same eerie static, mocking him with its silence. Panic surged through him, threatening to consume him whole as he realized the futility of his efforts.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. "I can't give up. I won't."

Summoning every ounce of courage he had left, Mark rose to his feet, his hands still trembling as he gripped the gun tightly. He knew he had to face whatever awaited him on the other side of the door, no matter how terrifying it might be.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the door, his heart pounding. With a shaking hand, he reached for the doorknob, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

But a sudden realization struck him like a lightning bolt before he could turn it. If he opened that door, he might never get the chance to uncover the truth about Bubbles, Cesar’s whereabouts, and the Alternate that now stood on the other side.

And as he waited, he whispered another prayer, a plea for salvation in the face of overwhelming despair.

"Please, God, send your messenger. Send the Celestial Artisan to save us from this evil. We need her now more than ever."

Oh, Mark… poor, little, clueless sheep. 

His friend is the ‘divine’ being.

But she’s drowning in her own sadness.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Since it's been a while since you've updated your TMC fanfic, can I get headcanons of the relationship between your OC (Clean Bubbles) and the canon characters (I've got a feeling that most of the characters are going to be alive- so I'm a bit hyped up!).

Well... since I'm working on the story and deep into it... I suppose I could tell you!

Characters Featured: Mark Heathcliff, Sarah Heathcliff, Cesar Torres, Adam Murray, Jonah Marshall, Evelin Miller, Thatcher Davis, Ruth Weaver, David Lee

(ANY FANART BELOW IS NOT MINE!)

MARK HEATHCLIFF

To Clean Bubbles, she sees him as a friend... but she feels like he's the older brother (which he is)

Although Mark already has a younger sister, Sarah, he thinks of Bubbles as the little baby of the family, much to his amusement

Despite Bubbles's efforts to act tough and strong and protect him, he feels like and knows that someone needs to watch over her after what she had been through for the past 15 years of her life

(It’s usually Cesar or Mark that initiates the quarrel for fighting over the big brother position)

He's mostly chill around her, not really much of a teaser as much of his childhood friend and Jonah

He'll just be around her presence and genuinely enjoys her being around as another younger sibling of the family

He really likes her positive aura that she carries even though she struggles to quit her selfless bad habits. It does at least help him ease with his paranoia

CESAR TORRES

Bubbles would've also seen Cesar as an older brother, but since Mark already took the position, she sees him as the middle brother

He's a teaser to her, but not as much as Jonah, so he does teasing a little bit, usually when she falls asleep or acts funny

Sometimes gets in a mini-quarrel with his childhood friend, competing to see who's the better brotherly figure for Clean Bubbles

He helps Bubbles get optimistic back up since she's been living isolation for 15 years before meeting him and his childhood friend

Just like Mark, he wants to protect her, but she is insisting on protecting him with her stubbornness.

He'll be the one to make small gifts and surprises for her to make her smile

SARAH HEATHCLIFF

100% OLDER SISTER FIGURE!

Sarah definitely treats Bubbles with a lot of unconditional love (gentle headpats and hugs)

She’s always the one to stop her brother Mark and Cesar (her childhood friend in my headcanon)

She’ll be the one to give Bubbles any item that she’s interested in despite the insistence she doesn’t need it

Because of Bubbles sometimes seeing Sarah as her biological older sister, Jade, she’s always sticking close to her

Sarah is comfortable with Bubbles and vice versa.

ADAM MURRAY

This guy isn't the friendliest, which reminds Bubbles when she confronts her cousin (Blue Wing) when he's mad at something petty

They don't get along with each other well since neither talks to each other a lot. It's mostly a friend relationship

Adam isn't much of a comfort person, so he only sits and listens (which he sometimes can drone out)

Despite their differences, the only reason Adam stays with Bubbles is because of her knowledge of the Celestial Artisan and her magic makes it easier for him to fight and capture Alternates. Bubbles only likes Adam because she still cares for him (platonically) and needs to protect him from the truth of his existence despite his cold attitude which depicts a similarity with her cousin when he's mad and grumpy

Adam doesn't get angry a lot at Bubbles when the others are present around her or not, knowing that she's important for the team when fighting against Alternates.

The only reason that he gets mad (pun intended) at her is when she has to do something reckless that involves her self-sacrifice and her having no regard for selfless and her life

JONAH MARSHALL

Bubbles sees him as an extreme goofball, very much like one of her older cousins, Tyler Wing

Bubbles appreciates Jonah's company, seeing him as her "old self" before she got isekai'd into Mandela Catalogue world because of his goofy, light-hearted, and chaotic energy he carries

Jonah's not much of a comforting person, but he does try his best to support her. (He gives her a lot of hugs)

It's more of a friend-like relationship rather than a distant relative since Bubbles doesn't see him and Adam often

She really likes sharing her wild imagination with Jonah

They both get fascinated over the small things and hyped

EVELIN MILLER

They're both socially awkward and quiet, but that encourages Bubbles to speak up and help Evelin deal with her problems

It's mostly a friend relationship, similar to Jonah and Adam

Bubbles usually checks in with her if she ever gets the chance to meet up with her again and hopes that she's getting better

However, what Bubbles doesn't know is the fact Evelin is also concerned for her well-being

Evelin struggles to ask her if she's really doing okay, unlike everyone else.

Ever since Bubbles introduced her to the Celestial Artisan's magic, she had been becoming a bit more open as Bubbles slowly closed herself out from others.

When Bubbles checks in with Evelin, it reminds her of her past life at school of how she makes friends with a quiet kid and is usually the loud and excited one to talk

THATCHER DAVIS

Bubbles sees him as both emo uncle officer and tired dad. Thatcher sees her as a surrogate daughter.

He questions more encouragingly without sounding too cold or too kind when he knows something is off.

Unlike the canon timeline, he doesn't drink or smoke a lot to make him forget the pain due to Ruth being saved from the Celestial Artisan

However, he's still depressed that the Celestial Artisan "disappeared" and left humanity to succumb to the suffering of the Alternates

He still blames himself for not being able to do anything since the Celestial Artisan could only defeat the Alternates. But it changed when he met Bubbles...

Understanding that she had the knowledge and power of the Celestial Artisan's magic but kept it hidden out of fear and reason, he felt she was shouldering a heavier burden.

He knew he needed as much support despite not being with her often. But there he feels like there's something bigger she has kept hidden from him and the others...

RUTH WEAVER

This female police officer is DEFINITELY 100% a mother or auntie figure for Bubbles

Ruth really wanted to ask herself how the hell she is alive after nearly getting killed by Vol. 333 Alternate and saved by the Celestial Artisan.

Upon meeting Bubbles, she could tell something was extremely off with her when she was interrogated by her and Thatcher

Although she would've been disappointed in the Celestial Artisan having to leave humanity to suffer, she assumed it was supposed to be a message to tell humanity that they can't rely on the Celestial Artisan forever

She'll be the one to initiate the small conversations with Clean Bubbles and see how she is doing

Like Thatcher, she also sees her as a surrogate daughter that needs help after being isolated for 15 years of withholding powerful knowledge

When Bubbles is depicting everyone as a family member, she has trouble deciding with Thatcher and Ruth's role of being a family member since they act like both

DAVID LEE

(I love this wholesome guy) HE'S THE PERFECT ROLE FOR A GREAT UNCLE! Bubbles depicts him as a funny uncle she likes but is scared of angering the usual happy-go man

David is quite surprised when she is introduced to him after learning how she saved her nephew and nephew's best friend

He does notice Bubbles's sign of distancing, closeness, and aloofness with others, including him

David will try his best to get her open and comfortable with his presence and others' presence without probing her too much she feels uncomfortable.

Despite his genuine and wholesome kindness to Bubbles, she is still scared of disclosing some dark and personal information with him, but that doesn't mean he stops trying

He usually checks in after a few minutes or so, relying on his niece, nephew, and nephew's best friend to keep her in touch

David doesn't pry too far with asking Bubbles of her information. If she doesn't like it, he'll leave her alone, unlike Thatcher, making him a fool...

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Incinerate Manipulation

In the meantime, Cesar let out a calm sigh as he put down the red telephone back into his spot. He hummed softly as he took off his black tuxedo, revealing a white, buttoned t-shirt, before he started washing the sleeves of the black tuxedo.

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, seeing that blood was being cleaned off as it cascaded down into the drain with water. He stared at it with cold, stoic eyes before his calm face turned into a sharp smirk.

"Hehehe." He laughed darkly, black substance cascading down his face as he wiped them away, his dark brown-colored eyes flickering to cold black.

"Hehehe... she's really a fool." He chuckled to himself darkly, washing off the blood from his palms that transitioned into black, discolored claws.

*HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!*

Suddenly, a TV in his room hissed loudly, its screen flickering to static before it showed a white void with a hooded silhouette standing there.

"Yo, Perpetrator." He waved from the television. "I take it that your little manipulation went well with that new girl in Mandela County?" He addressed the special Alternate who was washing his black tuxedo.

Cesar's smirk widened at the sight of the hooded figure on the TV screen, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, it went swimmingly," he replied, his voice oozing with false charm."Little Ms. Clean Bubbles fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. She's a gullible little thing, isn't she? Humans are so sensitive and fragile~."

The hooded figure chuckled darkly, the sound echoing eerily through the room.

"Good. We need her out of the picture if we're going to proceed with our boss’s plans." His voice was a low rasp, tinged with a hint of excitement. "‘Gabriel’ has been… furious over the past 15 years since his minions kept getting killed off by… you-know-who."

“Lucifer?” The Perpetrator almost forgot that his boss was under the guise of Archangel Gabriel. “Ah, yes, that Celestial Artisan has been killing off Alternates for humanity. We have little success about 98.9% of the time when it comes to killing humans. So we’re usually the ones that have to do the job—not that I don’t mind it though.” He spat with disdain at the mention of what Intruder was talking about. “It’s been a big thorn on our side; no matter how many times we pick it, it only seems to dig deeper into the wound.”

“Indeed.”Intruder nodded in agreement. “And what of Mark and Cesar?” he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think they suspect anything?”

The Perpetrator shrugged, his blackened claws flexing as he considered the question. “Mark is resilient, but he’s not immune to the same tactics that broke Clean Bubbles. He’ll be easier to deal with now that she is out of the picture. Isolated and vulnerable, he’ll fall into my trap soon enough.”

He grinned darkly. “As for Cesar, thanks to me, he’s already a goner with his mother. I’m surprised the Celestial Artisan didn’t intervene this time. But no matter, Cesar won’t be a bother anymore~”

The Intruder’s hooded silhouette nodded in approval. “Good. Good… We can’t afford any mistakes. The plan must proceed without a hitch to finally rid ourselves of the Celestial Artisan’s interference.” He hummed before silence befallen them. “…Speaking about that girl, Clean Bubbles—aside from her weird name and appearance—do you feel that there’s something different about her?”

“Hm? Why is that?” The special Alternate, under the guise of Cesar, asked.

“I… Well—we—Alternates and other humans, had never seen her before.” He shrugged. “She’s not well-known around the county, but it’s like she appeared out of thin air, just like the Celestial Artisan did. No Alternate has been able to track or find Clean Bubbles’s existence just at the same time the Celestial Artisan came by.”

The Perpetrator furrowed his brow, his claws tapping thoughtfully against the sink as he processed the Intruder's words. "Interesting observation," he mused, his voice low and contemplative. "It's true, Clean Bubbles seems to have appeared out of nowhere, without any trace of her existence prior to her arrival in Mandela County. It's almost as if she's... an anomaly."

The Intruder nodded slowly, his hooded silhouette swaying slightly as if lost in thought. "An anomaly indeed," he echoed, his voice heavy with intrigue. "But where did she come from? And why now, of all times? Something about her doesn't quite add up, something... off."

The Perpetrator's eyes gleamed with a dark light, his smirk widening into a malicious grin. "Perhaps she's a pawn in a larger game," he suggested, his voice dripping with sinister amusement. "Or perhaps... she's the key to defeating the Celestial Artisan."

"You really think that a mere human like her can be someone so... holy divine?" The Intruder's hooded silhouette seemed to lean closer to the screen, his voice barely above a whisper with a tinge of confusion. "She's just a mere mortal--not to mention human. No one can have power like the Celestial Artisan. Only that being can defeat Alternates, although I'm not entirely sure if it can defeat our boss."

"I highly doubt that, considering that Lucifer IS the god of hell." The Alternate, under the guise of Cesar, rolled his eyes. "The Celestial Artisan is just only a mere so-called 'God's Gift' and 'humanity's hope,' not a divine being."

"You think so?" Intruder raised an eyebrow. "We haven't confronted the Celestial Artisan before, but it seriously influences everyone and the Alternates. It's powerful enough to be on equal par on our level."

"But not Lucifer." He cut the hooded Alternate off. “He would’ve mentioned it to us sooner unless the Celestial Artisan is actually a scared entity that could do very little and make progress to stop us from killing humanity~.”

"You really think that a mere human like her can be someone so... holy divine?" Intruder raised an eyebrow at the implication.

“But that wouldn’t make sense. Mortal humans—they can’t obtain power—in a literal sense!”

“Well, perhaps not in the traditional sense,” the Perpetrator mused, his voice laced with intrigue. “But what if Clean Bubbles possesses something beyond mortal understanding? What if she holds the key to unlocking powers even the Celestial Artisan cannot comprehend?”

Intruder leaned back, his hooded silhouette swaying with the motion. “You’re suggesting that she’s some sort of... vessel? A conduit for powers beyond mortal ken?”

The Perpetrator nodded, his grin widening into a sinister smirk.

“Precisely. And if that’s the case, she could finally be the linchpin in our plans to rid ourselves of the Celestial Artisan’s interference.”

Intruder fell silent, his hooded figure seemingly lost in thought. “It’s an intriguing theory,” he conceded, his voice low and contemplative. “But how do we confirm it? How do we know if Clean Bubbles truly possesses these... extraordinary abilities?”

A wicked glint sparked in the Perpetrator’s eyes as he leaned closer to the screen.

“We test her,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “We push her to her limits, see what she’s capable of. And if she proves to be the key, we’ve been searching for...” He trailed off, a dark chuckle bubbling up from deep within his chest.

“Then we’ll finally have the means to overthrow the Celestial Artisan once and for all,” the Intruder finished, his voice tinged with excitement. “But we must proceed with caution. Clean Bubbles may be more than she appears, and underestimating her could be a fatal mistake.”

The Perpetrator nodded in agreement, his smirk morphing into a cold, calculating grin.

“Oh, I have no intention of underestimating her,” he replied, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “In fact, I look forward to seeing just how far she’ll go to protect her precious little world.”

With a final, wicked chuckle, the hooded figure on the screen disappeared into static, leaving the Perpetrator alone in his dimly lit room. But the anticipation in the air was palpable. A sense of excitement mingled with malice as he contemplated the role Clean Bubbles would play in their grand scheme.

A twisted smile curved his lips as he turned to the red telephone on the table. He murmured, his voice a sinister whisper lost in the shadows.

“Let the games begin,”

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Nothing is Worth the Risk?

TW: Swearing and Violence!

"Mark... Cesar... I'm so... sorry..."

Clean Bubbles stood before her bedroom mirror, her reflection staring back at her with determination and paralyzing fear. Today was the day they were heading to the arcade, which usually brought her joy and excitement. 

But today was different. 

Today, her nerves were on edge, her mind consumed by the ever-present, looming threat of the Alternates.

She ran a hand through her blue and black hair, the strands slipping through her fingers like silk. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her racing heart, to push down the rising tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that hung over her like a dark cloud.

With a determined sigh, Clean Bubbles tore her gaze away from her reflection and turned to her wardrobe. She meticulously chose her outfit for the day, ensuring it would blend in with the crowds at the arcade and allow her to move freely and react quickly if needed.

After deliberation, she settled on a comfortable yet stylish ensemble: a black hoodie adorned with a subtle bubble pattern paired with dark jeans and sneakers. It was a simple outfit, but it offered the mobility and flexibility she needed to navigate the crowded arcade easily.

As she slipped into her chosen attire, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at her stomach. She knew every moment she spent with Mark and Cesar was precious, a fleeting respite from the chaos and danger lurking in the shadows.

But she also knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment. The Alternates were cunning and relentless, their thirst for destruction and chaos insatiable. They would stop at nothing to eliminate her if they discovered her true identity and realized she was standing in their way.

With a heavy heart, Clean Bubbles reached for her utility belt, her fingers tracing the familiar contours of her weapons. She had spent countless hours honing her skills, training her body and mind to prepare for anything. But no amount of preparation could ease the burden of her responsibilities, the weight of the lives she carried on her shoulders. The fear of failure and the weight of her duty threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed it down, determined to do what was right.

Taking a deep breath, Clean Bubbles fastened her utility belt around her waist, the weight of her weapons comforting against her skin. She knew that she couldn't face the Alternates alone and needed Mark and Cesar by her side. Their unwavering support was her lifeline, her beacon of hope in the face of darkness.

But as she glanced at her reflection one last time, her resolve hardened. She may have been afraid, but she refused to let that fear control her. She would face the dangers ahead with courage and determination for the sake of her friends and their world.

With a determined nod, Clean Bubbles turned away from the mirror and headed out the door, her heart heavy but her spirit unbroken. Today may be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she would face it head-on, with her friends by her side and her unwavering convictions guiding her every step. She was scared, but she was also brave, and that was what mattered most.

“Bubbles! Mi amiga, I'm glad you are loosening up more than the movie last night!” Cesar was waiting outside her house. Mark was in his car, waiting to pick her up and drive to the arcade. Since the news of Alternates’ appearance lately has been decreasing, they haven’t been appearing since this ‘Celestial Artisan’ has been destroying them instantly on sight. “¿Cómo estás?” He spoke in his native language.

“¡Estoy bien!” She grinned softly, her Spanish speaking skills from high school kicking in because of Cesar’s surprised look. 

His surprise quickly turned into a warm smile at Clean Bubbles' response, his brown eyes twinkling affectionately. "¡Qué bueno verte tan animada, amiga!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight. "I'm glad you're feeling better today."

Clean Bubbles returned his smile, her heart swelling with gratitude at Cesar's kindness and understanding. Despite her fears and doubts, he never failed to offer her support and encouragement; she was eternally grateful for that.

"Gracias, Cesar," she replied softly, her voice tinged with sincerity. "I-I'm feeling... better, thanks to you and Mark."

Cesar's smile widened at her words, and his hand gently squeezed her shoulder. "De nada, Bubbles," he said gently. “You're not alone in this. We're in this together, remember?"

Clean Bubbles nodded, her heart lighter than it had been in days. 

Just then, Mark's car pulled up to the curb, and he leaned out of the window. He greeted them with a cheerful smile as they reached the car, his eyes sparkling excitedly. "Hey, guys!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Are you ready to hit the arcade?"

Clean Bubbles forced a smile, her heart pounding as she climbed into the car. "Y-Yeah, let's do this," she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I-I'm ready."

Mark nodded eagerly, his grin widening. "Great!" he exclaimed, starting the car. "Let's go make some memories!"

With that, Clean Bubbles climbed into the car beside Mark, her heart pounding excitedly. Today may be filled with danger and uncertainty, but as long as she had her friends by her side, she knew they would face it together with courage and determination.

As they drove off towards the arcade, Clean Bubbles couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stirring within her. It felt great to let loose despite the dangers of the creatures from Lucifer being unleashed within the world. But even so, she can’t let her guard down and must remain vigilant in keeping out for the creatures while ensuring her identity is compromised. Her hidden weapons were on her utility belt underneath her sweater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving at the arcade, Clean Bubbles' nerves were on edge, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger. The neon lights and lively atmosphere usually filled her with excitement, but today, they only served to heighten her anxiety.

She followed Mark and Cesar inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the arcade washing over her as they made their way through the crowds. Her eyes darted around, scanning every corner for any hint of movement or disturbance.

The Alternates had a knack for infiltrating technology, and the thought of facing them within the confines of the arcade sent shivers down her spine. 

Wait, you might wonder how the arcade was open if Alternates can infiltrate it, right?

Well, it’s simple! Bubbles has created a technokinesis seal to prevent any entity from entering or manipulating the game. They’re hidden, of course, so no one would be able to find and take it off.

Clean Bubbles kept a wary eye for any signs of trouble as they wandered through the rows of arcade machines. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not even for a moment, not when her friends' lives were at stake.

But as they immersed themselves in the games, the tension in the air dissipated, replaced by the joy and excitement of friendly competition. Clean Bubbles found herself getting lost in the thrill of the games, her worries momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

However, just as she started to relax, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a figure lurking in the shadows, its eyes filled with malice and hunger.

It was an Alternate, its presence unmistakable even in the dim light of the arcade.

Panic surged through Clean Bubbles' veins as she realized their danger. She had to act fast to protect her friends and the surrounding people without raising suspicion. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, she subtly reached for her hidden weapons, her fingers closing around the hilt of her blade.

But before she could pull it out and strike, Mark's voice cut through the chaos, his cheerful laughter ringing out above the noise of the arcade. "Hey, Bubbles, check out this game! It's awesome!"

Clean Bubbles forced a smile, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to mask her rising panic. "Y-Yeah, I'll be right there," she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness. "J- Just give me a second. I have to do some… business.”

“Okay! Let us know when you’re done!” Cesar exclaimed before he and Mark explored the game.

When Clean Bubbles looked back to where she saw the creature, it was gone. “Huh? What the—”

*Fwip!*

*Smack!*

“OOF!” Clean Bubbles breathlessly coughed as the Alternate tackled her down from behind as they tumbled to a dark and isolated corner where no one could find her. She winced as she felt a claw digging on her side.

She gasped as the weight of the Alternate bore down on her, the force of the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. She struggled against the creature, her heart pounding in her chest as she grappled with the creature's strength.

With a surge of adrenaline, she twisted and turned, using every ounce of her strength and agility to break free from the creature's grasp. She reached for her hidden blade, her fingers closing around the hilt as she prepared to strike.

Before she could unleash her attack, the Alternate snarled and lunged at her again, its claws flashing in the dim light of the arcade. The blue, black, and white-haired girl dodged and weaved, narrowly avoiding the creature's deadly strikes as she fought for her life.

With a fierce determination, the female teen fought back with everything she had, her movements fluid and precise as she countered the creature's every move. She knew she couldn't afford to lose, not when her friends' lives were at stake. 

But she can’t afford to let the creature leave alive, or it will report back to its creator, Lucifer himself, and spill every secret she has been hiding. She was tired of constantly being on the defensive, continually fighting to protect her friends and her world from the threat of the Alternates.

“Damn you!” She cursed, grabbing the Alternate before throwing it off her petite frame. 

*THUMP!*

It landed on the carpet with a resounding ‘thump’ sound effect before it was tackled again. The two rolled and tumbled around quickly, with the entity trying to kill her while she was trying to make sure attention wasn’t drawn toward the gamers. Bubbles winced as she felt a claw grazing her cheek, creating a cut. “Oh, you little–” She growled before imbuing her fist with magical aura sparks and delivering a right hook and an uppercut.

*SMACK!*

The creature let out an angry howl before grabbing Bubbles and throwing her to the ground, making her cough with pain. She gasped as the entity tackled her again.

While she was wrestling with the Alternate, Cesar, and Mark were having fun playing the arcade game Centipede. It was exciting and chaotic for them “Mark! Mark! Aim for the head!” He exclaimed, jabbing a finger toward the heads of the three centipedes. 

“I am trying! Do you think it's easy?” he remarked, his fingers and hands moving swiftly as he aimed to eliminate the insects' heads. 

“Of course it is! You need to aim for the head ONLY!” Mark’s friend facepalmed. “It splits in half if you miss it and hit the body! Oh wait–SPIDER ON SCREEN!” He pointed to the pixelated spider coming in on the screen.

“GOT IT!” He quickly eliminated the being. “Haha! Take that! Now, for the centipede–”

*BLIP!*

The enemy itself destroyed the shooter on the screen. Mark was too distracted with trying to grab the spider, but he ignored the centipede that was closer to the bottom of the screen. “Dang it!” He groaned.

“It’s alright, mi amigo,” Cesar patted him on his back. “You’ve got an impressive high score.”

*THUD!*

A loud thump was heard from behind, and the two turned around quickly. They looked bewildered, seeing Bubbles carrying a large, bony, limply body of… something. 

“Clean Bubbles? W- What is that?” Mark stuttered, pointing to the tall black figure over her shoulder.

“...It’s a model I found lying in the arcade.” She lied, her eyebrow twitching in pain. Earlier, she smashed the Alternate’s head onto the ground, knocking it out. But it bit her ankle simultaneously, so there was a distinctive mark. Thankfully, the dimness of the arcade shadowed the injury. “I thought it was cool to show you… but it’s heavy.”

The boys exchanged puzzled glances, clearly skeptical of Clean Bubbles' explanation. The figure she held seemed anything but a harmless arcade prop.

"Uh, okay..." Mark replied, still eyeing the figure warily. "But are you sure you're okay? You look like you've been through a wrestling match."

She forced a strained smile, trying to downplay the severity of the situation. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice slightly breathless from the exertion of the struggle. “I just stumbled and bumped into this thing. No big deal."

Cesar narrowed his eyes, his expression filled with concern. "Are you sure you don't need medical attention, Bubbles?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. "That looks like a nasty bite on your ankle."

Clean Bubbles quickly glanced down at her ankle, cursing inwardly as she saw the telltale mark left by the Alternate's bite. She needed to come up with a convincing explanation and fast. “A dog. I accidentally stepped on a service dog’s tail. It bit me.” She sighed, chuckling lightheartedly at the ‘incident’ she had. “It’s not a biggie. The dog didn’t have rabies. I’ll be fine.”

Mark and Cesar exchanged a concerned glance, unconvinced by Clean Bubbles' explanation. However, they trusted her enough not to push the issue further. After all, she had always been secretive about certain aspects of her life, and they had learned to respect her boundaries.

"Alright, if you say so," Mark replied, still eyeing the figure suspiciously. "But let us know if you need anything, okay? We're here for you."

Clean Bubbles nodded gratefully, her heart warmed by her friends' concern. Despite the dangers lurking in the shadows, she knew she could always count on them to have her back.

"Thanks, guys," she said softly, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "I really appreciate it. I’ll go find and put this thing back where I found it."

“See ya, then! We’ll be waiting at Galaga!” Cesar nodded. With that, the boys returned to their game, the events of the encounter slowly fading into the background as they immersed themselves in the fun and excitement of the arcade.

Clean Bubbles dragged the Alternate to a secluded area where no one was watching her. She grabbed her blade and made quick work with the entity. It quickly began melting, turning into a black, gooey puddle. A soft sigh left her lips as she used her magic and quickly cleaned up the black mess on the carpet. “There, no one would suspect!” She chuckled nervously.

She then felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning slowly, her eyes widened with surprise as she saw a staff member of the place who looked… flawed. Its pupils were large as it stared uncannily into her soul. It also had an unhinged jaw that looked like it melted and drooped down like clay.

“Dammit.” Bubbles grumbled, grabbing its head. She quickly twisted it and snapped its neck.

*SNAP!*

Clean Bubbles swiftly disposed of the corrupted staff member, her heart racing with adrenaline as she realized their danger. She couldn't afford to let anyone discover her true identity or the existence of the Alternates. With a glance around to ensure no one was watching, she carefully disposed of the body, using her magic to erase any traces of their encounter.

As she straightened up, her mind raced with possibilities.

How many more corrupted individuals had infiltrated the arcade?

Were they working alone, or had their “Lord and Savior” given them a specific command and order?

Pushing aside her fears and doubts, Clean Bubbles focused on the task. She needed to protect her friends and the surrounding people and ensure their safety. With a determined resolve, she set off to find Mark and Cesar, her senses on high alert for any signs of danger.

After a few minutes of searching, she finally spotted them engrossed in a game of Galaga. Their laughter filled the air as they battled against the alien invaders on the screen. Relief flooded through Clean Bubbles as she approached them, her heart swelling with gratitude for their unwavering support and friendship.

 However, she noticed another person hidden in the shadows had that same Alternate uncanny look. Its limbs were thin, bony, and long as it quietly reached over to the two. 

Bubbles walked swiftly, grabbing the Alternate’s head before snapping its neck.

*SNAP!*

It broke on instance, and she disposed of the body back into the shadows before turning to the boys. "Hey, guys," she greeted them with a smile, her voice tinged with relief. "Are you Having fun?"

Mark and Cesar turned to her with smiles, their eyes excitedly bright. "Hey, Bubbles!" Mark exclaimed, his grin widening. "You missed out on all the action! We're kicking alien butt left and right!"

Cesar chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Sí, it's been quite the adventure," he added, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But it would be even better with you here. Care to join us?"

Clean Bubbles couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm, her heart warmed by their genuine camaraderie. Despite the dangers lurking in the shadows, she knew she could always count on her friends to lift her spirits and make her feel like she belonged.

"Thanks, guys," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "I'd love to join you. Let's show these aliens who's boss!"

With that, Clean Bubbles took her place beside Mark and Cesar, her fears momentarily forgotten as they plunged into the thrilling world of Galaga. Together, they battled against the alien invaders with skill and determination, their laughter echoing through the arcade as they fought.

As they played, a sense of camaraderie stirred. She had never felt so belonged after being so lonely with no one for fifteen years. It was painful and sad to carry a burden that she felt no one else could shoulder, but with her friends, she felt lighthearted from the mission she had to focus on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The game drew to an exciting close, with their team achieving a high score that lit up the leaderboard. The feeling of victory was palpable among them. Clean Bubbles, Mark, and Cesar exchanged high fives, their earlier laughter mingling with a shared sense of accomplishment. Moments like these made the girl momentarily forget the weight of her double life and embrace the joy of simple, youthful fun.

"Man, that was intense!" Mark exclaimed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with a wide grin. "But we did it! High score, guys!"

Cesar beamed, his eyes gleaming with pride. "We should come here more often," he suggested, still riding the high of their victory. "It’s a great break from the usual routine, and it's good for team building, no?"

She nodded, the warmth of their friendship enveloping her. "Definitely," she agreed, her voice light and filled with a rare carefreeness. "It's nice to just... let go and have fun like this."

Her eyes wandered around the arcade, taking in the bustling activity around them. Families and groups of friends were immersed in their games, their laughter and cheers adding to the vibrant atmosphere of the place. It was a welcome reprieve from the dangers lurking outside, a bubble of normalcy in her tumultuous life.

As they headed to exit the arcade, Bubbles noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye. She saw several tall and skinny Alternates hidden in the arcade's dim lights, quietly hunting their prey, which was the trio and the oblivious people who were gaming.

“Oh! Mark, Cesar,” she cleared her throat. “I-I have to use the bathroom real quick. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, it’s normal.” Cesar lightheartedly chuckles it off. 

“We’ll wait for you outside,” Mark added as he and his childhood friend stepped out of the arcade.

The playful atmosphere of the arcade, buzzing with the sounds of games and laughter, suddenly felt heavy with impending danger to Bubbles. How could she not have noticed this!? She inwardly cursed for being so… carefree from her job. But now, she knew she had to act fast to protect her friends and the unsuspecting people around her.

Glancing around to ensure that Mark and Cesar were out of sight, she quietly approached the area where she had noticed the unsettling movement. Her heart raced, and her hands gripped her concealed weapons tightly, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

The dim lights of the arcade cast long shadows, perfect for the Alternates to hide and strike unnoticed. Clean Bubbles' eyes narrowed as she scanned the area, her senses heightened to every sound and movement. In the darker part of the arcade near an old, out-of-order pinball machine, the elongated shadows coalesced into the distinct, skeletal forms of the Alternates.

She moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the cacophony of digital noise. As she neared the group of lurking figures, she could see their forms more clearly—distorted, their limbs unnaturally long, faces devoid of any human expression. These were no ordinary arcade goers; they were threats, each one potentially deadly.

Without hesitation, Clean Bubbles prepared to spring into action. The element of surprise was on her side. But before she could do so, she felt a clawed hand grabbing the back of her neck, making her cough and gasp as the sharpness dug into her neck. 

Clean Bubbles' reflexes kicked in instantly as she felt the sharp claws dig into her skin. Twisting violently, she managed to slip out of the creature's grasp, adrenaline surging through her veins. With no time to spare, she drew her concealed weapon—a sleek, silver blade that gleamed under the arcade's neon lights.

Facing her attacker, Clean Bubbles saw the twisted features of the Alternate, its eyes glowing with a sinister light. She knew these creatures were not just mindless beasts; they were cunning and dangerous, often sent by their creator, Lucifer, to hunt down those like her who stood in their way.

Determined not to let this creature harm her or anyone else, Clean Bubbles lunged forward, her blade aimed at the creature’s chest. But the Alternate was quick, dodging her attack with a grotesque agility that seemed almost unnatural. It countered with its own swipe, forcing Clean Bubbles to roll to the side to avoid a lethal strike.

The sounds of the arcade around them—the blips and beeps of games, the laughter and shouts of patrons—seemed to fade into the background as Clean Bubbles focused entirely on her foe. 

Everything wasn’t fair for her. 

But this was her reality, a constant battle lurking beneath the surface of her everyday life.

Regaining her footing, Clean Bubbles didn't hesitate. She attacked again, this time with more force, driving the creature back against an arcade machine. The screen flickered wildly as the machine absorbed the impact of the creature's body.

“Enough of this…!” She grabbed her blade, ready to end the creature.

“Whoa! This machine shook!” One of the gamers behind the arcade machine they were playing exclaimed. 

“That’s so cool!” Another one perked up. “Since when they added real-life effects in the machine!?”

“CRAP!” Bubbles inwardly cursed again, belittling herself for not paying attention to where she was taking the fight.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Clean Bubbles adjusted her stance, bringing her blade close and readying for another strike, mindful now of her surroundings. Her heart raced as she attempted to conceal her battle from the oblivious gamers just a thin panel away.

Sensing her hesitation, the Alternate smirked—a grotesque twisting of its distorted features—and lunged. Clean Bubbles parried with her blade, sparks flying as metal clashed against the creature's talon-like fingernails. She couldn't afford to draw this out any longer; the risk of exposure was too significant.

Thinking fast, she made a split-second decision. She released her grip on her blade and instead focused on creating a diversion to mask their altercation. Channeling her abilities, she activated the arcade machine, causing its lights to flash and its buttons to malfunction erratically.

The sudden chaos drew the attention of the nearby gamers, who were now more engrossed in the spectacle of the malfunctioning machine than the scuffle happening in the shadows.

Glancing around swiftly to ensure no onlookers were watching, she maneuvered the creature into a narrower, less visible gap between two arcade machines. "Time to end this," she muttered under her breath, her voice a blend of resolve and exhaustion.

With a deft move, she thrust her blade upwards, aiming for a vital spot beneath the creature's ribcage. The Alternate hissed in pain as the blade found its mark, dark, viscous liquid oozing from the wound. It clawed desperately at her, but she sidestepped gracefully, withdrawing her blade with a slick pull.

Clean Bubbles watched as the creature staggered, its form dissolving into the same black, viscous, gooey substance she had encountered. It let out a guttural sound that was part growl, part curse before it vanished completely, leaving no trace behind except for the sticky residue on her blade and her racing heart.

“Damn it…” She cursed, shaking her head as she wiped off the black substance from her weapon. She also winced from the bite mark on her ankle. However, before she can focus on healing before fighting back, she is grabbed by the neck by another sharp claw and tossed against a wall.

*SMACK!*

*THUD!*

Clean Bubbles hit the ground hard, the force of the impact driving the air from her lungs. She barely had a moment to recover before she felt the sharp pressure of another Alternate's claw pressing against her throat. Struggling for breath, she clawed at the ground, trying to push herself up and fight back.

This new creature was larger and seemed even more menacing than the last. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and it leaned closer, its cold breath against her face. "You think you can interfere with our plans so easily?" it hissed, its voice a chilling whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Gritting her teeth, Clean Bubbles summoned her strength and quickly slid her hand to grab the hilt of her blade, which had skidded a few feet away during the scuffle. With a swift, practiced motion, she swung the blade up, slicing through the claw that held her, freeing herself from its grasp.

The creature howled in pain and anger, retracting its injured limb. Clean Bubbles didn't waste a moment; she rolled to her feet, blade at the ready, her eyes locked on her adversary. She knew she couldn't afford to let this creature escape—its knowledge of her could jeopardize not only her safety but also that of Mark and Cesar.

The arcade's flashing lights and electronic sounds created a chaotic backdrop for their deadly dance. Clean Bubbles dodged another swipe from the creature, her movements fluid despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She needed to end this quickly and quietly—no easy task in the bustling arcade. “GR!” With a swipe of her blade, she decapitated the monster’s head with a quick ‘chop’ noise.

The head flew by and hit the spasming arcade machine, which immediately reverted back to normal. “Hey! The game works now!”

“Yay!” 

The blue-and-black-haired girl grumbled and panted, fixing her disheveled look. “These Alternates are getting annoying…” she grunted, instinctively gauging a blade into an Alternate who attempted to sneak attack her.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

In the meantime, Mark and Cesar were waiting for her. It had only been ten minutes while they were waiting for their friend. “Hey, Mark,” the male wearing the gray sweater turned to the male wearing a suit. “Do you think Clean Bubbles is alright?” Cesar questioned him. 

He knew they had been hanging out within the past couple of weeks, and they quickly got attached. However, suspicions stirred within him for his new friend. She had been acting funny, hiding the bite mark from her ankle. To find this creepy skeletal model of a creature from the backrooms of the arcade was… uncanny.

Mark paused, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and uncertainty. "I'm not sure," he admitted, scratching his head. "She seems like she's handling everything okay, but sometimes... I don't know. It feels like she's holding something back. Like there's more going on than she lets on."

Cesar nodded slowly, his gaze drifting towards the arcade's entrance, half-expecting Clean Bubbles to appear at any moment. "Yeah, I get that feeling too. She's tough, no doubt, but that thing she dragged out... it didn't look like any ordinary arcade prop to me."

Mark sighed, his eyes filled with worry. "And that 'dog bite' on her ankle looked pretty bad. She played it off like it was nothing, but I'm worried. I mean, who gets bitten by a dog inside an arcade?"

“Anyone can.” The Hispanic teen shrugged. “She did say she accidentally stepped on its tail.” 

Awkward silence played between the two boys before Mark spoke. “But besides the point, she seems tense when we’re not paying attention. It's as if she’s shouldering something we’re unaware of.”

His friend nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah, I've noticed that too. It's like she's constantly on edge, always watching her surroundings, always doing some sort of heavy lifting. It makes me wonder what she's hiding."

Mark frowned, his mind racing with possibilities. "Do you think... she's in some kind of trouble? Like, maybe someone's after her or something? Maybe it’s family matters?"

Cesar shrugged, uncertainty clouding his features. "I don't know, man. But whatever it is, I think we should be there for her. She's been a great friend to us, and if she's in trouble, we must help her however we can."

Mark nodded, determination shining in his eyes. "You're right. We'll keep an eye on her and make sure she's okay... even if it's personal affairs that harm her."

The two friends waited patiently for Clean Bubbles to return, their minds filled with concern and determination to uncover the truth behind their friend's mysterious behavior. 

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

Back at the arcade, Clean Bubbles just finished snapping the last Alternate’s head off from its place. “Agh…” She panted heavily. Her clothes were soaked in the black substance from the Alternates, which was supposedly their blood. She clicked her tongue as she got a taste of the substance. “Blegh!” She spat slightly. “This tastes rotten… as if someone or some people performed a ritual on a person, and now taste like a corpse.” She wiped her tongue with the sleeve of her sweater. 

She quickly surveyed the area to ensure no bystanders had witnessed her grim battle. The arcade's flashing lights and the cacophony of game noises continued unabated, starkly contrasting the silent violence she had just enacted in its shadows.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she began erasing any evidence of the fight. Using her abilities, she focused intently, her hands moving with practiced precision as she conjured a cleansing spell. The dark stains began to dissolve, vanishing without a trace from the arcade's carpet and her clothing.

“There… now I can use the bathroom,” she chuckled, walking off to do her business.

But she paused, remembering the bite mark. 

Even if she tried to heal it quickly, the boys would suspect that she wasn’t human and was an Alternate unless there was a chance that someone else would believe she was something else, but that’s not likely the case. 

She stepped back from the bathroom entrance. She quickly glanced around, trying to find a safer spot where she could clean off the blood from her pants and fix the wound. Spotting a janitor's closet, she hurried over and slipped inside, thankful for the momentary privacy. Inside, she found supplies that would hopefully do the trick. She grabbed some heavy-duty paper towels and began trying to clean the blood on her clothes. Bubbles also used healing magic to heal the wound and make it look more natural than inhuman.

The grime was stubborn, but she reduced its appearance enough to pass a casual glance. However, the physical evidence of her skirmish was the least of her worries. The emotional and mental toll was harder to disguise. She leaned against the cool wall of the closet, allowing herself a brief moment to collect her thoughts and steady her breathing.

Her mind replayed the close calls of the day. She was getting too close to being exposed, and the increasing frequency of Alternate attacks was a clear sign that they were becoming more coordinated and perhaps even aware of her true capabilities. It was only a matter of time before she would have to confront larger forces or make tough decisions about her double life.

Exhausted from the strain of constant vigilance and combat, Clean Bubbles knew she couldn't keep going like this indefinitely. The burden of her secret identity was becoming too heavy to bear alone. She was torn between the desire to protect her friends by keeping them ignorant of the dangers they faced and the need to have allies who understood the full extent of the threat. The thought of involving Mark and Cesar in this darker aspect of her life filled her with dread; she couldn’t bear the thought of their already abnormal lives being ripped apart like hers.

Shaking her head to clear these troubling thoughts, Clean Bubbles checked her appearance one last time in the dim light of the closet. She needed to maintain her facade, at least for now, until she could develop a better plan. Stepping out of the closet, she ensured her expression was calm and untroubled as she returned to her friends.

As she approached Mark and Cesar, who were waiting outside the arcade, their faces lit up with smiles, but their eyes held a trace of concern.

Mark spotted her first, his expression lighting up with relief as she approached. "There you are!" he exclaimed. "We were starting to worry. Everything okay?"

Standing beside him, Cesar eyed her appearance, noting the slight disarray in her attire. "You look a bit off, Bubbles. Sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, all good," she replied, forcing a smile. "Just needed a moment to myself. Thanks for waiting."

She noticed their concerned glances and knew she had to divert their attention. "So, who won the game?" she asked, injecting a playful note into her tone.

Mark chuckled, the tension in his expression easing. "Cesar did, but only because he cheated," he accused, nudging his friend playfully.

Cesar defended himself with a laugh. "I did not cheat! It's called strategy. Learn the difference, mi amigo."

Their banter was a welcome return to normalcy, allowing Clean Bubbles to relax slightly as the focus shifted away from her. She laughed along, enjoying the momentary peace.

However, her respite was short-lived. She noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye, a subtle reminder that the threat was never far away. She tensed, her senses sharpening, but upon closer inspection, it was just a couple of kids running past, their laughter echoing through the arcade.

"Guess I'm still on edge," she thought, scolding herself internally for being overly cautious. Yet, she couldn't afford to let her guard down completely, not when danger had a way of hiding in plain sight. 

Mark suggested grabbing dinner together, an idea that was enthusiastically agreed upon. The trio found themselves at a nearby diner, a cozy place known for its hearty meals and friendly service.

As they settled into a booth, the waitress came over with a smile and took their orders. The casual chatter about movies, music, and mundane daily occurrences continued, allowing Clean Bubbles to revel in the normalcy of the conversation—something she cherished more than she could express.

However, her mind was never entirely at ease beneath her calm exterior. The encounter with the Alternates at the arcade was a stark reminder of the ever-present danger she and everyone around her face. She knew she couldn’t let her guard down, not entirely.

But for now, surrounded by her friends in the warm, inviting atmosphere of the diner, she allowed herself to relax slightly. The laughter and conversation washed over her, easing the tension built up over the past weeks.

The dinner was filled with shared stories and laughter, especially when Cesar attempted to mimic an accent he had heard in one of the games. This caused Mark to almost spit out his drink in laughter. Clean Bubbles found herself laughing along, her earlier fears temporarily forgotten under the weight of genuine joy.

As they walked back to Mark's car, the streets bathed in the soft hues of the night, Clean Bubbles felt a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, you guys," she said, looking at both of her friends with a sincere smile. "Today was needed. I had a great time."

Mark, who was unlocking the car, smiled warmly at her. "We're just glad you could come out and chill with us, Bubbles," he replied, opening the door for her. "You know, you should let your hair down more often."

Cesar agreed, getting into the car. "Yeah, and remember, whatever it is that's weighing on you, you can share it with us. We're here for you, no matter what."

Their words heavyened her heart, knowing just how much she was keeping from them. Yet, she appreciated their support more than they could possibly know. "...Thanks," she murmured as she climbed into the car. That means a lot."

She felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within her as they drove off. The day's joy was tinged with the silent acknowledgment of the battles yet to come. With friends like Mark and Cesar, she felt stronger, braver, and much less alone.

But the burden she carried couldn’t be told to them, knowing she’d be putting them in more danger than they already knew.

“We’re here, at Bubbles’s house.” Mark stopped the vehicle. They reached the street where they would part ways. Clean Bubbles hugged each of them, and the warmth of their friendship provided a small comfort against the cold fear that lingered in her heart. "Goodnight, Mark, Cesar. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Bubbles," they replied in unison, watching her as she walked away, her figure slowly disappearing into the house.

Alone now, Clean Bubbles allowed herself to feel the total weight of her solitude and the burdens she carried. She knew she couldn't keep her secrets forever, and the thought of what would happen when the truth came out haunted her every step.

But she knew she must be prepared to face whatever challenges awaited her, armed with the knowledge that, for now, she had the support of her friends—even if they didn't know the whole truth.

❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁

Outside, while Cesar and Mark were heading back to their house (with Mark dropping off Cesar first), they seemed to be lost in their thoughts on the way. “Hey, Mark, do you think we should stop, turn around, and go see Bubbles? Do you think she’s doing something in her house that makes her…you know? Feel so… tense?”

Mark glanced at Cesar, his expression thoughtful as he navigated the quiet streets. "I've been thinking about that too," he admitted. "Something's definitely up with her. She's always a bit on edge, and today in the arcade... did you notice how quickly she changed after coming back from that 'bathroom break'?"

Cesar nodded, his brows furrowed in concern. "Yeah, and she looked like she had been in a scrap or something. I mean, who gets all messed up from just going to the bathroom? And that whole thing with the 'model' she found? It all seems really off."

Mark sighed, tapping the steering wheel nervously. "Maybe we should just ask her straight up? I mean, if she’s in some kind of trouble, we should let her know we’re here to help, right?"

"I agree, but we have to be careful not to push her too hard. She's really private about her stuff, and I don't want her to think we're prying too much and end up pushing her away," Cesar responded, his tone laced with caution.

Mark gripped the steering wheel tighter, his eyes focused on the road ahead but his mind racing with Cesar's question. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, Clean Bubbles was dealing with something much more significant than she let on. Her often distant gaze, how she sometimes flinched at sudden movements, and her unexplained absences all added to a narrative that worried him more each day.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too," Mark finally said, his voice tinged with concern. "But, you know, Bubbles has always been upfront about needing her space. We should respect that, even if we're worried."

Cesar nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights flickering outside the window. "I get that," he agreed. “But it's not just the tension, Mark. It's everything. She's been acting really off lately—more than just needing space. I mean, what was that back at the arcade? That wasn't normal."

Mark sighed, slowing the car as they approached a red light. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, recalling the moments at the arcade. "Yeah, the arcade thing was strange. I've never seen her like that. It's like she was on high alert or something. She also kept stealing glances behind us as if she expected some monster to stalk us."

"And that 'model' she found? That wasn't a model, man," Cesar added, his voice low. "I've seen enough weird stuff to know that wasn't normal. I just... I don't want her to think we're not here for her, you know?"

The light turned green, and Mark drove on, his mind racing with the same concerns. "I know exactly what you mean. Maybe we're not doing enough. Maybe she needs more from us, more support."

Cesar looked over at Mark, his expression serious. "We should talk to her, really talk. Not just let it slide next time something weird happens. We should let her know she can rely on us, for anything."

"Yeah, I've been thinking the same," Mark admitted, his voice low. "Something's off. She's our friend, Cesar. If she's in trouble or if there's something big she's hiding, it will not just affect her. It could involve us too, whether or not we're ready for it."

Cesar nodded slowly, his worry for their friend evident on his face. "I know," he replied, the concern evident in his voice. "But if we go back now, uninvited, wouldn't that cross a line? She might not appreciate us prying into her life like that."

"That's true," Mark conceded, his brow furrowing. "But maybe it's not about prying. Maybe it's about being there, making sure she knows she's not alone, whatever she's facing." He paused, considering his following words carefully. "I think we should at least offer our help again, make it clear we're here for her, no matter what."

Cesar remained silent for a moment, mulling over Mark's words. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. "Okay, let's do it. Let's turn around and go back. Even if she doesn't open up to us, she'll know we're there for her, right?"

Mark turned the car around with a decisive nod, heading back to Clean Bubbles' house. The drive was quiet, each of them lost in their thoughts about the myriad of possibilities that might be affecting their friend.

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Back at her house, she leaned against the door and exhaled deeply. The weight of her double life felt crushing in the solitude of her home. She wandered through the quiet rooms, replaying the day’s events and the close calls that had come far too close for comfort.

The quiet was deafening. Every sound seemed amplified—the clock ticking, the distant bark of a dog, the whisper of the wind against the windows. She moved mechanically through her nightly routine, but her thoughts were chaotic and tangled.

Her encounters with the Alternates were escalating, and their boldness worried her. They were getting closer, becoming more daring. And her friends—Mark and Cesar—were getting more perceptive. How long before they stumbled upon the truth?

She sighed, her reflection in the mirror, a pale shadow of her usual self. Her secrets felt heavier tonight, each one a chain locked around her heart.

She knew she couldn't keep going like this. Something had to give, and she needed to make some decisions soon. But for tonight, the only thing she could do was prepare for the next day, hoping she could protect her friends and herself from whatever was coming their way.

She needed to be more robust and more cautious. Her involvement with the Alternates was becoming more dangerous, and the stakes were higher than ever. The safety of her friends was her priority, and the thought of them getting hurt because of her battles terrified her.

She sat at her desk in her room, flipping open a hidden compartment to reveal her secret stash of notes and artifacts related to her fight against the Alternates. She stared at the items, each a reminder of the battles she had fought and the ones still to come.

As she touched each item, her heart ached with regret and betrayal. But it was for their own good. She knew that she couldn’t keep her secrets forever. The time would come when she would need to trust Mark and Cesar with the truth to ultimately bring them into her world.

It was a daunting thought, but as she looked around her room, surrounded by the evidence of her battles and sacrifices, she felt a quiet strength building within her. She wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore; she was fighting for her friends, the semblance of normalcy they brought into her life, and the moments of laughter and companionship that had become her solace.

As she climbed into bed, the moonlight streaming through the window cast a silvery glow across her room. She closed her eyes, and for just a moment, she allowed herself to wish for simpler times—before she had to carry the world's weight on her shoulders.

But wishes were for fairy tales, and her life was far from a storybook.

*CRASH!*

She jolted out of her sleep when she heard a broken window downstairs. “What the…? An Alternate in my house!?” she grumbled, grabbing her weapon and hiding her arsenal and items in the secret compartment. 

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Outside, oblivious to the crash, Mark and Cesar arrived at the front of her house. They both stepped out and looked at each other nervously. They hoped and prayed that they weren’t met with an angry Clean Bubbles stirred from her sleep or, worse, an Alternate that had already killed her.

“...Do you want to do it, mi amigo?” Cesar glanced at the teen wearing the gray sweater.

The teen shook his head towards his Hispanic friend. “No, you can do it.”

“What!? Why me!?” the teen in a tuxedo looked at him incredulously. “You’re going to chicken out on me!”

“You’re the one talking!” the teen in the gray sweater remarked. “Remember when we went to that FAKE haunted house once, and you got scared by a ghost who was my sister? You jumped in my arms, literally.”

Cesar flushed, his cheeks coloring as he remembered the embarrassing moment all too well. "Hold on a second–" he grumbled. "You screamed like a little girl when we went camping that time when a frog jumped on your face.”

The brown-haired teen scowled. “That was one time!” he protested. “And it was a surprise frog attack! Anyone would have screamed!”

“It wasn’t even THAT big!” The darker brown-haired Hispanic teen huffed. “Besides, it was YOUR fault who poked it!”

“Yeah,” Mark rolled his eyes at Cesar. “It’s like how you disturbed a tiny nest of owls and got pecked and screeched by a Barn Owl.”

The two bantered nervously outside Clean Bubbles' house. Their voices were hushed, mindful of the late hour and the possibility of waking her or attracting unwanted attention. They stood on the dimly lit street, the night heavy with anticipation and the weight of their unspoken concerns.

Cesar chuckled sheepishly at Mark's accusation, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, that was one time, okay? That bird sounded like a demon!"

Mark rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, man. But this is different. We're not dealing with bird demons; we're dealing with Bubbles, and she's a lot scarier than any apparition."

Cesar nodded reluctantly in agreement, his gaze drifting back to Clean Bubbles' house. "Alright, fine. I'll do it. But if she gets mad and blasts me with some kind of magic, you owe me big time."

Mark grinned, clapping Cesar on the shoulder. "Deal. But I'll be right behind you, ready to run if things go south."

With a deep breath to steady his nerves, they approached Clean Bubbles' front door, each step heavy with uncertainty. They exchanged glances, gathering their courage before Cesar finally rang the doorbell. Silence followed the soft chime echoing slightly in the cool night air. They waited, ears straining for any sound from inside the house.

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With Clean Bubbles, she cautiously walked downstairs, staying vigilant for anything that came up. Nothing seemed to be destroyed since she didn’t have a lot of stuff at her house. After all, she’s a minimalist. 

But what caught her eye was that one of the windows near the living room was shattered. Even a mini-statue of an owl was knocked over. “Oh, come on! Not the owl statue!” She rushed over, picked it up, and placed it back on its stand. “At least the Intruder plushie is safe…” She muttered, glancing at the hooded toy on the kitchen counter’s shelf. “Now, where in the world–”

She was cut off as she heard a low growl and cold breath hitting the back of her neck. Elongated claws aimed to strike her in the marble kitchen counter's reflection.

Clean Bubbles’ instincts kicked in before she could fully register the danger reflected in the kitchen counter's gleaming surface. She ducked and rolled away swiftly, honed by countless encounters of similar peril, narrowly escaping the lethal swipe aimed at her.

As she regained her footing, she faced her assailant—a grotesque creature with elongated limbs and a distorted face that barely resembled anything human. 

It was an Alternate, undoubtedly, and a particularly vicious one at that. Its eyes glowed with an evil red light, fixating on her with an intensity that chilled her to the bone.

"You're far from where you belong," the creature hissed, its voice a disturbing mix of glee and menace. "This ends tonight, Celestial Artisan."

The mention of her hidden identity made her blood run cold. The Alternates weren’t just attacking randomly; they knew who she was, or at least they suspected. Clean Bubbles clenched her jaw, tightening her grip on her weapon—a compact yet deadly blade that gleamed under the dim kitchen lights.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted, trying to keep her voice steady. "And you’ve picked the wrong house to break into."

With a ferocious roar, the Alternate lunged at her again, faster and more aggressive than before. Clean Bubbles parried with her blade, sparks flying as she deflected its claws with precise, controlled movements. She was on her home turf now, and she would defend it with everything she had.

The creature snapped and swiped, each movement more desperate as it sought to overpower her. But Clean Bubbles was relentless, her attacks calculated and ruthless. She managed a sharp kick that sent the creature stumbling backward, giving her a moment to breathe. 

With a leap, she prepared to drive the blade into its chest, but she was slapped away.

*SMACK!*

She hit a shelf that was filled with books and tiny ceramic statues. The books tumbled and bonked on her head, but she had to catch the fragile props so they wouldn’t break when they fell. The fight tonight needed to be quiet. Any noise drawn would draw attention to bystanders or more Alternates, and it's already too much for her to handle. She needed to dispose of this Alternate in case it left alive to tell its “Lord and Savior” of her true identity. 

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Seconds passed, and just as Cesar began to wonder if they should leave and try another time or try again. The night was too quiet, and every tiny sound seemed amplified under the veil of their concern.

“Mark, should we try again or wait?” He looked at his friend. They waited, the seconds stretching into what seemed like hours. No response came from inside the house.

“Let me try.” The male wearing the gray sweater pressed the doorbell, more insistently this time, while Cesar peered through the side window, trying to catch a glimpse of movement inside.

"Can you see anything?" Mark whispered, his voice tense. He looked at where his friend was looking.

Cesar shook his head and furrowed his brows. "No, nothing. It's a bit dark. Dang tinted windows.”

Mark's heart raced as they waited for a response. The tension in the air was palpable, each passing moment feeling like an eternity. He glanced around the dimly lit street, his senses on high alert, searching for any sign of movement or sound from inside the house.

"Just keep an eye out," Mark whispered back, his voice barely audible over the quiet night. He leaned closer to the door, straining to hear any faint sound from within.

Suddenly, a noise broke the silence—a low growl followed by what sounded like a struggle inside the house. Mark's heart skipped a beat, and he exchanged a worried glance with Cesar.

"Did you hear anything?" Cesar's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with concern.

“I did. Listen,” Mark motioned his friend to press his ear against the door.

The Hispanic male concentrated on picking up any frequency, but it seemed so… quiet. “What? I-I don’t hear anything at all, Mark.”

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Inside, Clean Bubbles was engaged in a fierce battle with the Alternate, each move and countermove a testament to her training and resolve. The creature was relentless, but she was determined not to let it gain the upper hand. With a swift maneuver, she managed to pin it against the ground, her blade pressed against its throat.

"Who sent you?" she demanded, her voice hard as steel. "What do you want from me?"

The creature smirked, its eyes gleaming maliciously. "You know who sent me," it rasped. "And you know what we want. But you're too late, Celestial Artisan. The end is coming, and you can do nothing to stop it."

Before she could press further, a loud knock resounded through the house, startling her. The creature took advantage of her momentary distraction and kicked her back, freeing itself. Bubbles hissed as she hit her head against the ground, her blade leaving a gash across her wrist simultaneously.  “You can’t keep hiding forever, and your friends won’t be spared from the likes of us and our Lord and Savior.” It snarled as it approached her menacingly. 

“And you have been a thorn in my sanity.” Bubbles stood up, brushing off the wound before charging again. She did a quick baseball slide between the legs of the creature before standing up and hopping onto its back. She summoned tape before wrapping it around the creature's mouth. “Sorry ‘bout this, Alternate.” She readied her blade to stab it. It was a bit difficult since she couldn’t use magic, hence flashing lights and magical sound effects. But before she could bring down the blade, the inhuman creature grabbed her shirt before throwing her at the staircase of her house.

*THUD!*

Bubbles coughed and winced, feeling her back sore from hitting the steps. “Damn, staircase. I should’ve chosen carpet.” It was painful, considering that they were jabbing out. “AH!” She had to conjure up an axe before throwing it at the anomaly, which it simply side-stepped to avoid the prop.

“Ha! You missed–!” It was cut off as Bubbles leaped from the stairs, tackling it.

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Mark's heart sank at Cesar's words. If his friend couldn't hear anything, then maybe they were overreacting. Maybe Clean Bubbles was just dealing with something mundane, and they were intruding on her privacy for no reason. But the memory of their conversation in the car, the worry etched on Cesar's face, kept nagging at him.

"Maybe we should just leave," Cesar’s friend suggested, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, she might just be asleep or something. We don't want to wake her up for no reason."

The black-haired male hesitated, torn between their concern for Clean Bubbles and the possibility of invading her privacy. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he conceded reluctantly. "Let's give her some space."

 Mark nodded, though a part of him felt uneasy about leaving without knowing for sure if Clean Bubbles was okay. But they had done their part by coming back and offering support. They couldn't force her to accept it if she didn't want to.

But before they could get the chance to step away from the door–

*CRUNCH!*

An axe blade pierced through Bubbles’s house's wooden door with a loud, sickening crunch of wood breaking. “AAH!!” Cesar screeched like a girl and hopped into Mark’s arms, huffing at the sudden weight he was carrying.

The axe blade, still quivering from the impact, protruded ominously through the door, a stark reminder of the genuine danger lurking just beyond it. Mark and Cesar stood frozen for a moment, their eyes wide with shock and fear. The banter and hesitation of moments ago evaporated into the cold night air, replaced by the chilling reality of their friend's peril.

“The hell!?” Cesar shook his head, trying to process what had transpired. Was Bubbles mad? Was she fighting someone or something? Was she combating one of those Alternates?

“Ahem!” Mark sarcastically cleared his throat, trying to breathe and see because his Hispanic friend held him in his arms. “Seriously, Cesar?”

His sarcasm temporarily broke the tension, and his friend in a tuxedo blushed, realizing his reaction had been a bit over the top. He quickly regained his composure Mark’s legs trembled under his friend’s weight. "Jesus, Cesar, get off!" Mark grunted, struggling under the sudden weight of his friend. He gently set Cesar down, his mind racing with panic. 

The two approached the door cautiously, Mark reaching out to slowly pull the axe free from the door. The metal screeched against the wood, a harsh, grating sound in the quiet night. With a final tug, he freed it, holding it warily as if unsure what to do next.

"Should we... go in?" Cesar whispered, his voice barely audible.

Mark nodded, setting the axe aside. "Of course. I’m going in," Mark declared, his voice firm. He tried the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Damn it. I should’ve known.” Without a second thought, he took a few steps back and then charged at the door, shoulder first.

*BAM!*

The door burst open under the force, and both boys stumbled into the dimly lit hallway. They were immediately met with the chaotic aftermath of a struggle: overturned furniture, broken items, and, more disturbingly, a dark, viscous substance splattered on the floor.

"Clean Bubbles?" Cesar called out tentatively, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet house.

There was no answer, just the oppressive silence of the house. Mark and Cesar exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding as they moved deeper into the home, cautious and alert to any signs of danger.

As they reached the kitchen, they stopped dead in their tracks. The scene before them was one of evident violence. The kitchen table was overturned, and more dark substance was smeared across the floor and walls. 

Inside, they found Clean Bubbles breathing heavily, a weapon in hand. The room was in disarray, furniture overturned, and more of that strange, dark substance staining the carpet. She had been in a fight that had taken a toll on her physically and mentally.

“B-Bubbles?” Mark shuddered with shock and surprise. His gaze fixated on his friend covered in some liquid while holding a strange weapon.

“M-Mark… Cesar?” She stuttered, turning to face her friends, fear and nervousness evident in her eyes. “I-I can explain… maybe…”

“Clean Bubbles…” The Hispanic teen’s eyes widened in horror as he pointed to the substance on her clothes. “I-Is that… blood?” He couldn’t tell due to the dim light of the house. He frowned, suspecting that she was more than just an ordinary girl. “Have you been…?”

“H-Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Mark tried to calm his friend.

“Have you been murdering people!? Are you an Alternate!?” Cesar accused, pointing a finger at her as she flinched.

“N-No!” She remarked, squeaking as he grabbed her by the collar.

“Tell us what’s going on! Don’t lie to us anymore! You’re hiding something!” He demanded angrily, shaking her back and forth. She was getting dizzy from the vigor shaking.

Clean Bubbles winced as Cesar shook her, her eyes darting between him and Mark, pleading for understanding. "I'm not lying, Cesar!" she protested, her voice shaky with fear and frustration. "I'm not an Alternate, and I haven't been... murdering anyone!"

“Then what have you been doing in secret!?” Cesar's voice was filled with mistrust and betrayal, his grip on Clean Bubbles' collar tightening just a fraction. Mark, however, maintained his calm, understanding that escalating the situation wouldn't help them uncover the truth.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Cesar's shoulder to stop him from shaking her further. "Calm down, Cesar," he said firmly, his voice low but steady. "Let's hear her out."

However, it seemed that his friend wasn’t going to give up. “Mi amigo, what do you mean ‘let her hear out?!’” He turned to his friend, gesturing to her while holding her with one hand. “Mark, she has been lying to us the entire time, and now, she’s been killing–whatever it is–in secret!”

Before Mark or Bubbles could speak, he continued. “Look, everyone, and we are already dealing with these ‘Alternates’ in Mandela County, creatures that can mimic and shapeshift. People can’t figure out how to kill them, but the only one who can is this ‘Celestial Artisan!’ I don’t want to believe that Bubbles is an Alternate, nor the fact that she has been putting herself in danger and is almost getting herself killed! Or even worse, working for the Alternates as a human for them!”

Clean Bubbles' heart sank at Cesar's accusation, feeling the weight of his words like a physical blow. She knew she couldn't blame him for thinking the worst; after all, she had kept so many secrets from them, and her recent struggles had only added to their suspicions.

But she couldn't let them believe she was some kind of monster. Not when they were the closest thing she had in this chaotic world.

“Look, put her down. She’s already stressed enough.” Mark tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder.

A tense moment rang out before Cesar sighed. “Fine… but you need to explain. NOW.” 

She took a deep breath, careful at how much she needed to conceal and conceal. She knew that it wasn’t the time right now. “Look… I-I was simply defending myself from an Alternate. I-I wasn’t killing anyone.” She partially lied, hiding the fact that she killed an Alternate. Because in their current situation, she feared that some Alternates might be watching secretly. If Mark and Cesar knew she was fighting, the Alternates would realize she had allies and could use them against her. “I-It broke through my window… and I used a kitchen knife to fend it off, but I didn’t kill it since it was… abnormally strong like it is.”

Another moment of tense silence passed before Mark spoke. “There’s more to that story… isn’t it?” His voice was filled with solemn confusion. “You’re origins that you told me… you’re not actually from here, are you? You never came from here, nor do you even have parents or a sister. Am I… wrong?”

She felt her heart tighten at Mark's words, realizing that the depth of her secrets was beginning to surface, and her facade was crumbling. The room seemed to close around her, each second stretching out as she searched for the right words, knowing full well that whatever she said next could forever alter their relationship.

She sighed, a long and weary exhalation filled with the weight of her burdens. “You’re not wrong, Mark,” she finally admitted, her voice low and fraught with emotion. Her gaze shifted between Mark and Cesar, seeing the confusion and concern etched on their faces. “I... I didn’t want to involve you or drag you into this chaos. But yes, I’m not from here—not in the way you think.”

Cesar's expression hardened slightly, a mix of hurt and betrayal passing fleetingly across his features. “So, what? You’ve been lying to us this whole time?” His voice cracked slightly, displaying a rare vulnerability.

“I-In a way, yes, b-but–” Her resolve wavered, and for a moment, she considered telling them everything—the truth about her identity as the Celestial Artisan, her battles against the Alternates, and her endless struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy while protecting the dimensions from the chaos that threatened to engulf them all.

BUT THIS WASN’T RIGHT.

The gravity of what she was about to reveal was pressing down on her. She realized that exposing the full depth of her secret could endanger her, Mark, and Cesar. If the Alternates ever discovered that her friends knew the truth, it could put them directly in harm's way.

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her mind raced for a way to protect her friends while maintaining the necessary secrecy. "Look, I... I've been dealing with a lot," she started again, her voice steadier this time. “And yes, there's a lot I haven't told you. Not because I don't trust you, but because I was trying to protect you both."

Mark and Cesar exchanged a look, the tension between them palpable. They were struggling with the revelations and the evident breach of trust. Yet, it was also clear that they cared deeply for their friend, their concern etched in the lines of their faces.

Cesar's expression softened slightly, his earlier anger giving way to concern. "Bubbles, we're your friends," he said, his voice gentle. "Whatever you're dealing with, you don't have to do it alone. We want to help you, not just be kept in the dark."

Mark nodded in agreement, his resolve firm. "He's right. We've seen enough to know you're not just our friend but also someone fighting a bigger battle. Let us help, Bubbles. Whatever it is, we can handle it. So please… tell us."

Clean Bubbles looked into the earnest eyes of her friends, torn between the desperate need to share her burdens and the overwhelming fear of putting them in danger. The silence hung heavy in the air, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the faint sounds of the night creeping around the damaged doorway. Her eyes began to water up as she bit her lower quivering lip. She gripped her shoulders tightly as she looked away, her guilt evident in her body gestures.

As much as she appreciated the help, the risk was too significant and dangerous. She knew it’d get her in trouble and the boys killed.

“I… I can’t.” She shook her head, wiping away the tears of frustration. “Not… now. I can’t.”

Cesar blinked, bewildered. “What do you mean?” He asked. “We’re friends–”

“We’re not,” she cut him off.

“I… We can’t be.” She looked away from them, her back facing the two. “I don’t deserve to be your friend… never in the first place.” She narrowed her blue eyes to the ground, self-loathing herself for being so carefree in a world of horrors and dangers that kept coming in 24/7.

Mark and Cesar stood stunned, the harshness of her words slicing through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of her sudden withdrawal and the pain it brought with it.

Cesar was the first to recover, his voice soft but insistent, tinged with hurt. "Bubbles, why would you say that? After all we've been through? You're more than just a friend to us. You're part of our lives now."

The girl kept her back turned, her body tense, and every fiber of her being screaming in protest against her words. But she believed it was necessary to keep them safe—this distance. The risk of them getting hurt because of her battles was too high.

Mark stepped forward, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to bridge the gap her words had created. "We don't care about the dangers, Bubbles. Whatever this is, whatever you're hiding, it's not just your burden to carry. Let us help you."

But she shook her head slowly, resolute yet heartbroken. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice cracking. "This isn't just about what I'm hiding. It's about keeping you out of harm's way. The more you know, the more danger you're in. I can't... I won't let that happen."

Cesar, his frustration growing, stepped closer. "So what? Will you just push us away? After everything, we just... stop being friends?" His voice rose, a note of anger mingling with his disbelief.

Bubbles turned around, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her resolve faltering as she faced them. "I don't want to," she admitted, her voice whispering. "But it's better this way for everyone. You have to leave. You need to go."

“So you’re just going to leave–abandoned us!?” The Hispanic teen exclaimed incredulously. 

“JUST GO!”

She snapped, holding back the tears of guilt. “Please…” Her voice softened, filled with fragile emotion, and she never wanted to show them she was vulnerable.

The air hung heavy with tension as Mark and Cesar exchanged uncertain glances. They could see the pain etched on Clean Bubbles' face, the turmoil within her. But they also knew that pushing her further might only drive her away.

Cesar sighed, his frustration giving way to resignation. He reached out a hand as if to offer comfort but hesitated, unsure if she would even accept it. "Okay, Bubbles," he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. "We'll... we'll go."

Mark nodded in agreement, his heart heavy with the weight of their fractured friendship. "Yeah," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... take care of yourself, Bubbles. And if you ever need us... you know where to find us. Let us know."

With one last lingering look filled with unspoken words and stifled worries, Mark and Cesar turned and left the house, the broken door swinging slightly on its hinges behind them. Their footsteps faded into the night, leaving Clean Bubbles alone with her secrets and the remnants of the battle that had unfolded.

As the sound of their car engine started and faded away, Clean Bubbles sank to the floor, her back against the wall. “Damn it… I’m so stupid…” She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly. The fight had drained her, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. The loneliness of her double life was never more palpable than at that moment, echoing hollowly in the quiet of her home.

She closed her eyes, the events of the evening replaying in her mind like a nightmarish loop. Her friends' faces, filled with concern and confusion, haunted her. She had pushed them away for their safety and to keep them out of the dangerous world she navigated. But the cost of that decision weighed heavily on her, a burden she wasn't sure she was strong enough to bear alone anymore.

The house was silent, eerily so. The only sounds were the occasional creaks and whispers of the wind against the shattered window. It was a stark reminder of the destruction and the potential for more if she couldn't contain the threats that sought to breach her world.

As the night stretched, she grappled with the harsh reality of her existence—a reality that demanded sacrifice and solitude, even at the cost of the friendships she held most dear.

With a deep, steadying breath, Clean Bubbles stood up. She walked over to the broken window and looked into the night. The quiet streets of Mandela County offered no answers, but the stars above shimmered with a faint promise of hope.

She turned away from the window and began to clear the debris and chaos. Each movement was mechanical, a way to keep her mind focused and away from the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to break through her carefully constructed barriers. 

Yet, it didn’t feel the same as the other days when she came home. Usually, it would be simpler for her to wave off these incidents, but now, she can’t make them forget about the conversation. She also doesn’t want to forget about them, too, but it was for their own sake… maybe.

She sighed as she fixed everything before heading back upstairs, ready for bed. She sobbed one last thing before sleeping.

"Mark... Cesar... I'm so... sorry."

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Book Cover(?)

This is the best I could come up with. Not the greatest, but here it is!:

REMINDER: ANY FANART OF ANY FANDOM DOES NOT BELONG TO ME! ALL CREDT GOES TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNER. I ONLY EDIT PICTURES.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Cabin Inn

As the car rumbled along the road, the only sound was the crunch of gravel under the tires and the occasional soft groan from Bubbles in the backseat. Mark drove with a palpable tension, his eyes scanning the dark woods for any sign of trouble. Cesar sat beside him, his worried expression deepening with each passing moment.

The isolation of the drive gave Bubbles time to reflect. The physical pain was one thing—a constant, throbbing reminder of the night’s events—but it was the emotional and mental strain that weighed heaviest on her. The secret she guarded so fiercely, the identity of the Celestial Artisan, felt like a growing burden, one that threatened to expose itself with every encounter with the Alternates.

When they finally arrived at the cabin, the first hints of dawn were creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of soft pink and blue. Mark’s Hispanic friend quickly unlocked the door, and the three stepped in.

The decor embodies the quintessence of rustic charm blended with touches of '90s flair. The trio were greeted by a warm and inviting atmosphere, illuminated by the soft glow of a wood-burning stove in the corner, crackling gently.

The living area features a comfortable, slightly worn sofa adorned with plaid throws and mismatched cushions that add a homely touch. Nearby, a large, hand-knotted wool rug in earth tones anchors the space, inviting anyone to relax by the hearth. The walls, paneled in knotty pine, are adorned with framed landscape paintings and vintage skiing posters reminiscent of the era.

A heavy, wooden coffee table sits in the middle of the room, its surface bearing the patina of years of use, perhaps scattered with a few magazines from the '90s, like issues of "National Geographic" or "Outdoor Life." Nearby, a bookshelf overflows with a mix of classic literature and popular novels from the decade, along with board games and a cassette tape collection featuring grunge and pop hits.

The kitchen is simple yet functional, with aged copper pots hanging from a handcrafted pot rack. The countertops, perhaps a bit dated, are covered in laminate that mimics the look of natural stone. They show signs of wear but are clean and well-maintained. The pine cabinets match the wall paneling, and an old, chunky microwave sits next to a spice rack filled with dried herbs and spices.

A small dining area features a round wooden table and chairs, each chair cushion covered in a floral fabric that was trendy at the time. Overhead, a wrought iron chandelier provides soft lighting, enhancing the cabin's rustic ambiance.

The bedrooms continue the theme down a narrow hallway with cozy plaid-patterned flannel bedding, handmade quilts, and thick woolen blankets. The furniture is sturdy and wood-made, with vintage brass lamps on the nightstands casting a warm glow.

The cabin's windows are covered in handmade curtains, perhaps a bit faded but clean. These curtains offer views of the surrounding woods and let in natural light that plays across the cabin's nostalgic interior.

"Wow... DAMN! I didn't know your guys' cabin you two own was nice!" Bubbles’s eyes sparkled in awe. “So much for living in 2024. It looks really nice to live in here.” She thought. “Ack–!” She winced again, feeling sharp pain shooting on her side.

Mark immediately went to the bathroom to gather medical supplies while Cesar filled a basin with warm water and grabbed some towels. They returned to Bubbles’ side and cleaned her wounds with gentle, efficient movements.

"You're good at this," Bubbles commented, trying to mask her pain with a weak smile as she observed her Hispanic friend handle the cloth.

"I've had some practice," the Hispanic male replied in a low voice. “I used to help my mom with her garden injuries while tending to our roses. I never thought I'd be doing this under such different circumstances."

The brown-haired teen rummaged through a first aid kit they found in a cabinet, pulling out some antiseptic and bandages. "This might sting a bit," Mark warned before carefully applying the antiseptic.

Bubbles tensed, her breath hitching as the solution touched her wound, but she bit her lip and bore it. "Thanks," she breathed out once Cesar began to bandage her up more professionally than she would have expected.

As they tended to her, the silence was heavy with unspoken questions and concerns. Finally, Mark broke it, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Bubbles, you know you can trust us, right?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. "Whatever is going on, whatever you're hiding... we're here for you, no matter what."

Bubbles looked up at them, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and fear. She took a deep breath, considering her following words carefully.

"I know," she replied softly. "And I appreciate it more than you can know. It's just... complicated."

Cesar nodded, dabbing at a particularly nasty cut. "We get it. But seeing you out there tonight and the way you handled everything... You’ve almost got yourself killed!"

Bubbles chuckled weakly. "Understatement of the year." 

“Don’t wave it off!” The Hispanic friend scolded her. “You’re always putting yourself in a situation that scares us when you almost die every time! It’s not funny! ¿¡Lo entiendes!?”

"Sí, lo sé." She rolled her eyes slightly.

Mark placed a reassuring hand on Bubbles' shoulder, his expression serious. "We care about you, Bubbles. We don't want to lose you. So please, promise us you'll be more careful next time."

Bubbles nodded, her gaze meeting Mark's with sincerity. "I promise. I'll do everything in my power to keep us safe. But you have to promise me something, too."

Cesar and Mark exchanged a glance, their expressions curious. "What's that?" Mark asked.

Bubbles took a deep breath, steeling herself in case she had to do a reveal. "Promise me that you'll trust me no matter what happens. Even if things seem impossible or I make decisions you don't understand. Promise me you'll trust that I'm doing what's best for all of us."

There was a moment of silence as her words hung in the air, the weight of their implications sinking in. Mark and Cesar shared a look before turning back to Bubbles, determination shining in their eyes.

.

.

"We promise,"

.

.

they said in unison, their voices filled with conviction.

With that assurance, Bubbles felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She knew she couldn't do this alone, and having her friends' trust and support meant everything to her.

“Let’s rest for the night,” Cesar said, rising from his sofa seat. “We can worry about the sigil cards later. Bubbles can explain it to us in the morning since she knows how it works.” He nodded. 

Mark nodded in agreement, his gaze softening as he looked at Bubbles. "Yeah, rest is what you need right now. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow." He helped her to her feet, supporting her as they walked towards one of the bedrooms.

The cabin, with its warm wooden walls and the comforting crackle of the fire, felt like a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. Bubbles felt the tension start to ease from her shoulders as they entered the cozy bedroom, its rustic charm underscored by the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

Cesar pulled back the covers on the bed, fluffing the pillows before turning to Bubbles. "Get some sleep. We'll be right here if you need anything," he assured her, his tone protective.

Bubbles managed a small smile, grateful for their care and concern. "Thank you, both of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

As she settled into the bed, the soft mattress comforting against her bruised body, she felt a sense of peace envelop her. The weight of her secrets and the burden of her responsibilities were still there, but for now, she allowed herself the luxury of rest, surrounded by the quiet strength of her friends.

Mark lingered for a moment, watching her with a thoughtful expression. "Goodnight, Bubbles," he said softly before leaving the room with Cesar.

Once they were back in the living area, Cesar looked at Mark, a concerned frown creasing his brow. "Do you think she's telling us everything?" he asked quietly.

Mark sighed, sinking into an armchair by the fire. "I don't know, man. But I do know she's under a lot of pressure. Whatever she's holding back, I'm sure she has her reasons. We just need to be there for her, no matter what."

Cesar nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. "Yeah. We stick together. That's how we'll get through this."

They sat silently for a moment, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them. Both were lost in their thoughts, pondering the complexities of their situation and the mysterious entity known as the Celestial Artisan. The night deepened around them, and the dark woods outside the cabin whispered their own secrets.

Back in the bedroom, Bubbles drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams a whirlwind of shadowy figures and echoing voices. She was haunted by the Perpetrator's words, the implications of her own power, and the unknown challenges that lay ahead. Yet, amidst the tumult of her subconscious, a steadfast resolve formed. She would protect her friends, come what may. She was the Celestial Artisan, whether acknowledged or hidden, and she bore the weight of that mantle with a fierce determination.

Morning would come, bringing with it the need for decisions and actions. But for now, in the heart of the night, Bubbles and her friends found a semblance of peace in the solidarity of their bond, the quiet strength of their unity offering a shield against the darkness outside.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

Bamboozling a Bamboozler

Mark and Cesar stared through the glass doors, realizing that Bubbles had just sacrificed her chance to escape with them to potentially trap the Perpetrator inside. Mark pounded his fist against the transparent glass of the automatic door, frustration and worry etching his face.

"Bubbles, you don't have to do this alone!" he shouted, though the glass muffled his voice.

Cesar grabbed Mark's shoulder, gently pulling him back. "She made her choice, mi amigo. We have to trust her. She knows what she's doing."

Inside the hospital, Bubbles took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She knew the layout well enough by now, having navigated the dark hallways under duress. Her plan was straightforward but risky: lead the Perpetrator into a glue trap on the place's roof. 

Since she was alone, she could use her magic freely as she wanted to… as long as it was not a powerful spell that would destroy the place since she would’ve lost control of her abilities without her headphones with its missing antenna. 

She quickly summoned a pail of transparent industrial glue and used a fire spell from her hand to heat it so it wouldn’t harden.

Once she had the glue ready, Bubbles began making her way to the roof, her footsteps echoing through the now eerily quiet hospital corridors. The silence was punctuated only by the distant, muffled thuds of the Perpetrator as it struggled to free itself from the impalement. Knowing time was of the essence, Bubbles moved swiftly but cautiously, aware that any noise might draw the creature to her prematurely. She used the blood from her wound and dragged it across the hospital floor. 

Knowing the Perpetrator was clever, she needed to stay on guard. But as she reached the roof stairwell, she paused, listening intently. The sounds from the Perpetrator had stopped. Either it had freed itself or was lying in wait. 

“Bubbles!” Cesar’s voice echoed in the halls.

“Clean Bubbles… what are you doing?” Mark’s faint voice echoed in the hall.

She flinched. Did Mark and Cesar find a way to break in, or was it a trick?

It has only been at least 10 minutes.

Bubbles paused at the base of the stairwell, straining her ears. The voice calling her name sounded authentic, with genuine concern and urgency that only her friends could muster. Yet, in the depths of the hospital, with a creature known for its deceitful abilities, trusting even the most familiar sounds was risky.

She took a deep breath, making a decision. "Stay out! It's a trap!" she called back firmly, hoping her friends would hear and understand her warning. Whether it was Mark and Cesar or a deception by the Perpetrator, she couldn't risk leading the danger back to them.

With her mind set, Bubbles continued up the stairwell, gripping the pail of heated glue tightly. Her footsteps were soft but deliberate as she ascended towards the roof. The cool night air greeted her as she pushed open the door to the rooftop, her eyes scanning for any signs of the creature.

The rooftop was bathed in the moon's light, creating long shadows among the ventilation units and satellite dishes. It was the perfect place for an ambush—open yet filled with enough obstructions to provide cover. Bubbles set the pail down carefully and started spreading the glue across a strategic roof section near the access door. She planned to lure the Perpetrator into the sticky trap, giving her enough time to either incapacitate it further or retreat.

Pouring the heated glue, she made it look like a transparent puddle in a large circular pattern. The muffled sounds of movement below hinted that the creature might have extricated itself and was now pursuing her. She worked faster, spreading a generous layer of glue. Satisfied with her handiwork, Bubbles stepped back, hiding behind one of the conditioning units.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited, the silence now starkly contrasting with the chaos of just minutes before. She could feel the Perpetrator's presence; it was close, its malevolent intent almost palpable in the cold air.

Then, as expected, the heavy door to the rooftop creaked open. Bubbles peered around the unit, watching as the dark form of the Perpetrator stepped out onto the roof, its movements cautious yet filled with a brutal purpose.

It paused, sniffing the air, its grotesque face twisting as it sensed her nearby. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Its voice was glitchy like a film buffering, and its heavy footsteps searched the roof. 

The Alternate crept forward, its distorted voice echoing in the cool night air. Bubbles held her breath behind the air conditioning unit, watching the creature through a narrow gap. She could see it scanning the rooftop, its hideous, uncanny cartoonish eyes searching intently for any sign of movement. She needed her trap to work because she couldn’t use her magic. Otherwise, it would reveal her identity as the Celestial Artisan.

As it moved closer to the center of the roof, towards the glue trap she had prepared, Bubbles tightened her grip on a makeshift weapon she'd crafted from debris found on the rooftop—a sharp, jagged piece of metal that had broken off from one of the satellite dishes. Her plan was simple: once the glue immobilized the Perpetrator, she would leave it there and return to her friends, leaving it stuck.

The creature stepped closer, its feet just inches from the edge of the glue trap. Bubbles waited, every muscle tensed for action. The Perpetrator paused, a sudden wariness overtaking its posture as if it sensed something amiss.

.

.

*FWISH!*

*THUD!*

.

.

With a swift, unexpected movement, the Perpetrator leaped back, avoiding the glue. It landed right behind Bubbles, its tall form towering over her. "Clever girl," it hissed, its voice dripping with malice. "But not clever enough."

Bubbles gasped, the cold edge of fear slicing through her as she realized her trap had failed. The Perpetrator stood menacingly close, its eyes gleaming with a sinister light. She had underestimated its ability to perceive danger, a miscalculation that could cost her dearly.

The girl swung her makeshift weapon without hesitating, aiming for the Perpetrator's head. The metal shard whistled through the air, but the creature was quick, its reflexes sharp. It caught her wrist mid-swing, its grip iron-tight, causing her to wince in pain.

“You think this is enough to stop me?” the Perpetrator sneered, twisting her arm painfully. “You’re alone, and you’ve just used up your last advantage.”

The teen gritted her teeth, pain shooting through her arm. She knew she had to keep it distracted if she had any chance of escaping. “I’m never alone,” she spat defiantly. "But I choose to fight this battle alone—""

.

.

*FWIP!*

*SQUEEZE!*

.

.

URRK!! She coughed as she felt its tail curling around her throat, cutting her off.

Panic rose within Bubbles as the tail tightened, its vice-like grip constricting her breath. Desperation flickered in her eyes as she struggled against the powerful constriction, her hands clawing at the alien appendage. Her mind raced, seeking any possible escape from the dangerous hold.

"You see," the Perpetrator taunted, its face looming close, a grotesque smile curling its lips, "your friends can't help you now. You chose to face me alone."

Gasping for air, Bubbles felt the darkness creeping at the edges of her vision. Yet, within her, a spark of defiance still burned. Summoning what strength remained, she managed a weak smile. "Then... you're not… paying attention," she rasped, her voice barely audible.

Confusion flickered across the Perpetrator's features, its grip loosening momentarily in curiosity. That slight hesitation was all Bubbles needed. 

With her free hand, she reached into her pocket, fingers grasping at the last of her crafted tools—a small, homemade flashbang she had prepared earlier from hospital supplies. She knew the risk of using such a device in close quarters, especially given her precarious position, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

.

.

*Clink!*

.

.

With a swift movement, she pulled the pin and shoved the flashbang directly beneath the creature's jaw, pushing against its grip to create just enough space. "Bright lights might not hurt you, but let's see how you handle a surprise," she gasped, the words raspy through constricted breaths.

.

.

*BANG!!*

.

.

The flashbang detonated with a loud bang and a brilliant flash of light. The sudden noise and light stunned the Perpetrator, its senses overwhelmed. Its grip loosened momentarily, giving Bubbles the split second she needed. She wrenched free, gasping for air as she scrambled away, distancing herself from the dazed creature.

The Perpetrator shook its head, trying to clear the disorientation. It snarled, eyes narrowing as it refocused on Bubbles, who was now several feet away, breathing heavily but ready for another round.

"Still think I'm alone?" Bubbles taunted, drawing the creature's attention. She knew she had to keep it engaged and angry, her mind racing to figure out another way to exploit its weaknesses.

The creature lunged faster than before, forming a motion blur. Bubbles rolled aside, barely avoiding a deadly swipe. She knew she couldn't keep dodging forever. She needed to end this now.

Spying the glue trap she had prepared earlier, Bubbles had an idea. She led the Perpetrator on a precarious dance around the rooftop, edging closer to the trap with each pass. Fueled by rage, the creature followed blindly, focusing on capturing her.

As they neared the trap, Bubbles feinted a stumble, baiting the Perpetrator into a pounce. At the last moment, she dove away, and the creature, too committed to its trajectory, landed squarely in the middle of the sticky glue.

.

.

*SPLAT!*

.

.

The glue did its job. The Perpetrator struggled, its movements sluggish as the adhesive began to set. Panting from exertion and relief, Bubbles watched as the creature tried to free itself, its efforts growing feeble.

"I may be on my right now," Bubbles said, stepping back to catch her breath, "but I'm never truly alone. And you," she pointed at the creature, "underestimated what one determined human can do."

The creature glared at her, its eyes filled with malice, but its body was trapped. Bubbles didn't wait to see if it could free itself. She used this opportunity to retreat, heading back to the hospital stairwell. She knew Mark and Cesar were waiting, and every second she delayed increased their risk. 

The girl had five minutes to return to them or collapse from blood loss. She could heal her wound if she wanted to, but that would stir suspicions because fighting and trapping an Alternate unscathed is logically impossible.

“You… mortal,” the Perpetrator spat, a tinge of respect in its voice. “You’re not like the other humans, are you?You’re a fighter, always putting yourself on the line and knowing what to do. You cleverly planned a trap for me and always have weapons of surprise up your sleeve. Typically, most mortals would scream and run away in fear. But you… girly, your presence seems to influence.”

She stopped in her tracks, stopping at the doorframe between the hospital and the rooftop. “Why…” she coughed. "Why does that matter to you?”

The Perpetrator’s form shimmered as it struggled against the glue, its voice modulating between anger and curiosity. "Because," it rasped, "you defy the usual patterns. You don't succumb to fear like the others. It's... intriguing."

Bubbles, her breath shallow from the exertion and pain, leaned against the doorframe for support. The night wind chilled her sweat-damp skin, but her mind was focused, sharp. "Maybe," she replied, her voice steady despite the weariness tugging at her limbs, "that's because I've seen things you can't imagine. And faced fears you wouldn't understand."

The creature paused, its movements ceasing as it considered her words. A low, grudging chuckle escaped its form. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you are more than you seem, human."

Glancing back at the trapped Perpetrator, Bubbles knew she couldn’t linger. Every second spent was a risk not just to her safety but to Mark and Cesar’s as well. 

Yet, she couldn't help but respond, her tone a mix of defiance and weariness. "I'm exactly what I need to be to survive. And to protect what matters."

“You’re just like the Celestial Artisan, aren’t you?" It replied as she quietly stiffened at the mention. “Always putting their life on the line 24/7 to save a single soul from everyone. They have always been able to outwit Alternates–getting a scratch, a two, or none–and eliminate them. Otherwise, the Celestial Artisan would have to improvise with its… attack. And you here, human, are possessing some similar… skills.”

"I'm not the Celestial Artisan." She shook her head. "What... makes you think I am her?"

The Perpetrator chuckled darkly, its form pulsating within the confines of the glue trap. "You have the same determination, the same cunning, the same... disregard for your well-being," it rasped. "And besides, who else but the Celestial Artisan could pose such a threat to us?"

Bubbles tensed, her mind racing as she considered the implications of the creature's words. The Celestial Artisan was a legendary figure, revered for their ability to thwart the Alternates' plans repeatedly. But they were also shrouded in mystery, their true identity unknown to all but her.

I'm not her,"" Bubbles repeated, her voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at her. "I'm just... someone trying to make a difference. Someone who refuses to let creatures like you terrorize innocent people."

The Perpetrator's eyes narrowed, its gaze piercing as it studied her. "Perhaps," it mused, "but you have the same spark and fire in your eyes. And that, my dear, is what makes you dangerous. You’re like her, and you act like her.”

The teen froze momentarily at the creature's insinuation. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, her mind racing with the implications of its words. She knew any slip could confirm the creature's suspicions, potentially exposing her true identity and jeopardizing everything she had worked to protect. Her gaze hardened, and she steadied her breathing, maintaining a façade of calm.

"I'm not whoever you think I am," she replied curtly, her voice firm. "But I learn from the best."

"Indeed, you do. But remember, girly, no one can hide their true nature forever. It always comes to light." The Perpetrator chuckled, mixing mockery with a hint of admiration. “But tell me, do you sometimes feel you’re not human in some moments? After all, everyone seems to get intrusive thoughts at some point. Am I right?”

She seemed to pause once more, contemplating her thought. Sure, she was human. But she was a human with superpowers–making her the Celestial Artisan. But… can humans with superpowers be classified as humans at all? Or are they just people who were mutated with insane abilities?

Has she been working so hard that she’s beginning to lose her humanity?

As she pondered the complexities of her identity and the broader implications of being human with supernatural abilities, she realized the Perpetrator was not only challenging her physically but was also provoking a psychological duel. It sought to undermine her confidence, to make her question her essence and purpose.

"I'm human enough to care, and that's what counts," she finally replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. She had always found solace in the gray areas of her identity—between being a savior and just another soul striving to make sense of her chaotic reality. "And my thoughts, intrusive or not, are my own. They don't define me, nor do they control me."

The Perpetrator snorted, its form still struggling against the sticky confines of the glue trap. "So righteous, yet so secretive. You're an interesting puzzle, human. A puzzle I'm sure we'll solve soon enough."

Bubbles felt a chill that wasn't from the night air. The creature's words were a reminder of the constant danger lurking, always ready to strike. But now was not the time for fear. She needed to act to ensure her friends' safety and her escape.

"Keep guessing," she shot back sharply. "You'll find that I'm full of surprises." She couldn't afford to engage further, not when every moment spent here was a moment in which the Perpetrator could gather more about her. However, it kept talking, and if she left, it would only confirm the Alternate’s suspicion.

The creature that seemed to pose as a more monstrous parody of Cesar let out an amused, gravelly laughter echoing off the roof. "So philosophical, yet so naïve. You think you control them, but in the heat of battle, in the depths of fear, who holds the reins?"

She clenched her fists, feeling the sting of the creature's words. They were meant to disorient and provoke doubt, but she knew her strength lay in her resolve and her ability to adapt and persevere.

"Enough games," she said sharply. "You're trapped here, and I must ensure you stay that way. My friends are waiting for me."

The Perpetrator's form shifted within the glue, its movements sluggish as it tried to free itself. "Your friends... yes, the bonds you think protect you can also bind you, make you vulnerable.Remember, Bubbles, every strength has its shadow."

Turning away from the creature, Bubbles began her retreat towards the stairwell. She knew it was right about one thing—her connections made her vulnerable. But they also gave her something to fight for, a reason to push forward despite the odds.

Reaching the ground floor, she navigated through the dimly lit corridors, using her intimate knowledge of the hospital's layout to avoid potential hazards. Her side throbbed with pain from the earlier encounter, a stark reminder of the night’s brutal realities.

She reached a ‘Staff Only’ door. She opened it and walked outside before walking around the exterior of the building. As she rounded the corner, she saw Mark and Cesar waiting anxiously. Their faces, lit by the flickering light of an overhead bulb, registered relief and concern as they took in her battered appearance.

Without a word, they moved towards her, their expressions asking all the questions their lips didn't.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked, stepping forward to support her as she leaned heavily against him. “You’re bleeding.”

"I'm fine," she assured them, managing a weak smile. "The Perpetrator is stuck on the roof, trapped in glue. It won't bother us for a while."

Cesar looked past her, his expression still tense. "We heard everything. That thing... It knew a lot about the Celestial Artisan. How can it be so informed?"

Bubbles paused, considering how much to reveal. She knew her friends deserved the truth, but how much should she share? The risks were high, and the implications of her full disclosure could alter everything.

But she simply shrugged, her gaze drifting away momentarily as she considered how much to reveal. "Alternates talk, just like people do. They observe and learn; this one has been around long enough to pick up a few things."

Mark nodded, though his brow furrowed with unresolved questions. "But how did you manage to set all that up? The trap, the escape... It's like you've done this before."

There was a moment of heavy silence as Bubbles carefully considered her following words. "Let's just say I've had a lot of practice with sticky situations," she quipped, hoping to lighten the mood. Her friends chuckled, though the underlying tension remained palpable.

"We should get out of here," Cesar suggested, glancing around the dim hallway. "Before it frees itself or others show up."

Bubbles agreed with a grunt. "I heard you and Mark own a cabin in the woods." She chuckled.

“Yeah, we do.” Cesar smiled with pride. 

“We can go there and rest for the night until we can figure out how to stop these Alternates.” The brown-haired male nodded.

“But I thought physical attacks don’t work?” The Hispanic male raised an eyebrow.

“The Celestial Artisan can harm them with her magic,” his friend remarked. “And Clean Bubbles happens to study her personally.” He looked at her with a confident grin. The female teen felt slight amusement that they didn’t know that she was the Celestial Artisan, but she knew she had to keep it a secret. 

“What!? How?” His friend looked bewildered as he looked at the girl.

She gulped, ready to tell another lie to mask her secret. “I’ve been observing the Celestial Artisan for quite some time… When she first appeared in the newspaper, I got intrigued.” A soft sigh left her lips, her heart quietly becoming heavy and light at the same time.

“I started to observe and record through the camera to see how she combated. Pretty sure enough, she dropped a piece of paper." She reached into her pocket.

"It turns out she's got these magical sigil cards that appear to have a different effect or spell when cast.” She held up one of her small square-shaped cards with a circle and symbol in the center.

As she explained her fabricated story, the boys listened intently, nodding along with her words. Her explanation seemed plausible enough to them, given the mysterious nature of the Celestial Artisan's abilities. They exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation they found themselves in.

"Wow, that's... pretty incredible," Mark said, his tone filled with awe. "So, you've been studying her methods to figure out how to combat these Alternates?"

Bubbles nodded, tucking the sigil card back into her pocket. "Yeah, exactly. I've been trying to piece together whatever information I can find to help us fight back. And so far, it seems like these sigil cards might hold the key to defeating them."

Cesar's expression turned thoughtful. "But how do we use them? Do you need special training or something?"

Bubbles hesitated, knowing she couldn't reveal the truth about her own abilities. 

But the worst part is that she–the Celestial Artisan–could only use the spells if they were in her presence. However, she wasn’t confident that the spell activation would work for people with no magical abilities. Sure, she could create cards that could work for humans, but if it didn’t work for the boys or any other people, then they’re entirely screwed.

She was threading a dangerous line, providing hope while knowing she might not be able to deliver on its full promise. “Um… how about I get patched up before I die from blood loss, and we can talk about this in the cabin?” She suggested, fear fluttering in her stomach. 

Mark and Cesar nodded in agreement, realizing the urgency of getting Bubbles medical attention. They knew they had a lot to discuss, but her health was the priority for now.

"Right, let's get you patched up," Mark said, offering Bubbles his arm for support.

Together, the trio made their way out of the hospital, cautiously scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. The night air was cool against their skin, a welcome relief from the oppressive atmosphere of the hospital.

As they reached the parking lot, Bubbles winced as she felt another wave of pain shoot through her side. She leaned heavily on Mark, grateful for his support. Cesar hurried ahead to retrieve their car, a sense of urgency driving him forward.

Once inside the vehicle, they wasted no time in stopping the bleeding on her side. They were going to clean the wound once they got to the cabin. The journey was silent, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns. Bubbles sat in the backseat, her mind swirling with a mixture of pain, exhaustion, and uncertainty. She was drowning under the pressure and burdens she had been carrying. 

But after all, this was the consequence of having extreme power.