Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

3AM

He never knew how hard a human body could shake from exhaustion and fear. Solitude was once a source of comfort, but now? If a grave in the woods couldn’t hide him from the world for a few painful hours, what could?

His heart raced behind hitching lungs as adrenaline surged anew through a frame that still all but sprinted down the foreign street. It muffled the creeping fatigue, but he knew he couldn’t keep that pace forever. His shaking hand rubbed over the bump of his wallet in a back pocket, comforted to find it was still there. A phone, a car-

      a photo

and a bottle may as well have been on the other side of the world. He knew where they were, but where, where was he!?

     STOP. BREATHE.

An exhale pushed through his chapped lips, and his heather blue eyes lifted for what felt like the first time. For hours, his vision felt so narrow, so constricted, but he forced it to focus. Find something, and focus. His gaze settled on a digital sign outside a bank.

     MAGNIFICENT SAVINGS AND LOANS – 3:02 AM

Relief washed through his veins, and a shoulder sagged against cold brick as he let himself stop that broken sprint to nowhere. It never even occurred to him to check his watch, one of the few things left to his name after hours of fleeing. Magnificent didn’t have a branch in his town, but on the edge of the next one over. It would still be an hour’s walk, but at least he knew where he was. That comforting thought was enough to drain some of the adrenaline that kept him standing.

      Pull yourself together.

He needed to keep going, god he needed to keep going, but his hand fumbled for his wallet anyway, desperate for something grounding and real. The leather fell open to reveal himself on a plastic ID, stoic and saner than he felt. A slim, pale face with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a short beard. Beside it was a name, solid as the day it was stamped.

      CHASE BRODY

At least that hadn’t changed. Everything was in its place, just where he’d left it. The state ID, the maxed credit cards, the crumpled fast food receipts. The card for the health insurance company that dropped him, holding its spot for no other reason than he hadn’t taken the time to scratch off his information and throw the damn thing away. Therapy sounded great until they told you how much it cost, and that was after your insurance threw in a couple bucks. He couldn’t even make rent, how was he supposed to afford a therapist?

Chase pushed that thought aside as Stacy’s arguments drifted through, as they always did. It wouldn’t help him now. He just had to get home, try to get some sleep, and email her in the morning. Hopefully his car and his phone were still parked outside the forest. Their differences aside, this goddamn nightmare aside, she’d help him. Whether she believed his story or not.

      Did he believe it?

Blue eyes slid shut, and he pushed himself away from the warming brick. The moment played in his mind over and over and over, but it still defied explanation. One moment he had been drinking beside a grave in the woods, desperate for the company of the one person on earth who’d loved him just for existing. The next – he was on the roof of a car garage. Chase had felt his stomach drop like he’d plunged over a hill on a roller coaster, but that was his only warning. Ripped from safety and planted beside a ledge in the blink of an eye. He’d braced both hands to gaze over that edge, and the sheer drop had filled his veins with ice.

    J̷u̷̴m̡p̵͢͢

It was half a whisper in his mind, but he swore he heard it. There and gone in an instant, just as he had been. Something brought him there, and a warning that resonators to his bones screamed that it was still watching.

The first hour was a blur. He’d taken the garage stairs down two at a time, picked a direction, and ran.

-----

Each step ached more than the last, but exhaustion had defeated fear over ownership of his body. His heart wasn’t fluttering like a trapped bird behind his ribs anymore, and it wasn’t terror that narrowed his vision. Chase’s ball cap raised just a bit, and he winced at the sudden flash of red and blue lights in front of his shitty rental house. A silent police cruiser illuminated the whole street, and it cast an almost glitching shadow that stretched behind him. Chase took a long moment to realize his car was there, safe and sound , and an even longer moment to hear his own name.

Arms locked around his tired frame before frantic hands found his cheeks. Stacy’s wide-eyed face swam into focus, and Chase finally, finally relaxed.

     “Stace-”

    “Are you okay!? Chase, it’s been hours! A hiker saw you go into the woods with nothing but a bottle! He was worried you hurt yourself!”

The afternoon itself was a little more than a nebulous smear of emotion, 

       screaming, god so much screaming, it felt like I'd never stop screaming

and color, but Chase didn’t remember seeing anyone when he’d parked his car a lifetime ago. That whole piece of the world had seemed just… empty. 

      Are you okay!? 

He was a great many things, okay was not one of them. But that didn’t mean Chase had strength left to lie.

     “I’m… I’m not hurt.”

God, he hated watching her face twist and harden. That tightness remained all throughout the police questioning, and his panicked refusal for medical treatment. Tired and broken as he was, he’d still sprint if it meant avoiding a several thousand-dollar ride in an ambulance and another couple hundred dollars just for an emergency room doctor to tell him to get some rest. Even if he still had insurance, that trip would destroy him financially.

The cop took his report, and left them in deafening silence. It choked the living room and left air thick in their throats, muffling even their unspoken words. Even in their worst of fights, it was this cloying silence he dreaded most. When neither knew what to do, what to say, and the only taste in their mouths was defeat.

     “… Chase…” Stacy’s voice trembled, “did you try to-”

     “ NO.”

There was weight, conviction in his voice, and his eyes cleared for what felt like the first time since he found himself on that roof.

    “I didn’t. I promise I didn’t.”

She didn’t move, but her face softened. Just a bit. She was still hurt, but she at least believed him. Perhaps not the lame story that he’d walked home from the forest to clear his head, but at least about this. Wordlessly, she guided him to a chair, filled a glass of water and waited until he drank it.

     “…I can’t stay, my sister has the kids and she has work in the morning. But I’m not going to be able to sleep until you do, come on.”

     “Can I still see them tomorrow?”

Stacy sighed as she tugged her estranged husband to his feet, and Chase swayed without support. An arm slipped around his waist and kept a firm hold for their slow trek to the bedroom.

     “Yeah, you can. I’m going to take a personal day since I’d have to get ready in an hour anyway. Get some sleep, then come get them so I can sleep. Deal?”

     “Deal.”

Chase’s eyes were barely open by the time she steered him to the bed, and Stacy left him long enough to send a text to both her sister and his sister that he’d been found. His phone was recovered from the car, and she brought it with her to charge in his bedroom. That had been the most maddening piece of evidence, the fact he had abandoned his phone. Who does that except people who don’t want to be found? Leaving him had been painful enough, the idea of burying him-

       STOP IT. He’s HERE, he’s ALIVE.

The thought was stamped down before she reached the doorway.

Chase was already dead asleep, crumpled on his side as if he’d been thrown from a building. He’d managed to kick off his shoes and jeans and nothing more. The baseball cap was pressed against the pillow – she could see the brim starting to dig an indent in his temple. Light as she could, gentle hands worked it free and set it on the nightstand. His phone was plugged in, and an alarm was set. The screen glitched, and a brief flash of emerald and then crimson illuminated the dark room before it settled into the familiar lock screen. Christ, that was all they needed, his iPhone to start dying . Stacy sighed and flipped it upside down on the nightstand, took one last look at Chase’s sleeping form, and left. It would be hours before he moved, and she had a long day ahead.

1PM

Electronic beeps filled the bedroom, calling louder and louder the longer they went unheeded. His hand twitched and lurched the phone, skidding it further from reach. The hand fell still in defeat for a long moment while the alarm continued to blare its indignation, but a groaning stretch snared it.

Chase’s body was slow to reel the phone in, and fogged eyes opened by the barest sliver to silence it. 1:05pm. Stacy must have set his alarm, she was a firm believer in the power of five more minutes. A headache made itself known, but he wasn’t sure if it was dehydration or lack of caffeine. Or both. What he did know was Stacy was still awake from yesterday’s nightmare, and he had to get his kids.

-----

Getting ready at one in the afternoon was just as difficult a task as it was at the crack of dawn. Stumbles and groans and willing the coffeemaker to hurry. Washing down some water and eating a snack he didn't taste. Showering fast and tugging on clothes without looking beyond the fact they were clean. Filling a thermos with coffee and dragging himself to the car so he could caffeinate on the way. What he felt, she felt worse. Insomnia and sleep deprivation were a curse he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Traffic streamed past him, but Chase had driven on autopilot more times than he could count. No matter how far the mind wandered, blue eyes always remained locked on the road and steady hands kept absolute control of the wheel. So when his thoughts drifted to the night before, Chase didn’t resist them.

      Twisting around the unfamiliar roof, heart hammering in his chest as his brain filled with static. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening, he was just at his mother’s grave, where was he, where was she , MA-

Hands whitened against the steering wheel as he shook the thought away. Chase needed to get past this, one step at a time, and forget it ever happened. He’d made it home and through the night, maybe whatever dragged him there had its fun and moved on. It was a tantalizing hope, and it followed him up the familiar steps of what had once been his home.

      “DADDY!”

That tiny voice left his face melting into a smile, and he knelt as long arms spread wide.

      “There’s my little MVP, c’mere!” A laugh bubbled from his throat when his daughter all but dove into him, but he didn’t lift and swing her as he always did. Chase found himself frozen, curled around Ellie as the five year old giggled and squirmed in his hold. His son, just two years older, peeked around the corner and a hand waved with damn near desperation for him to join.

      “You too, Connor, bring it in.”

Connor, as reckless as his dad, sprinted full force down the hall with a charging roar and Chase had to move Ellie out of the way to catch him. To them it was fun and games with dad, but Stacy, exhausted as she was, saw the quiet fear wash over her husband’s face when theirs were hidden.

He was folded around his children as if he’d never hold them again.

      “Dad, why are you shaking so much?” Connor asked, still trapped against his trembling father, who forced a laugh in return.

      “Bad dream, kiddo, I’ll be okay. Humor your old man for a sec.”

      “Did the shaky monster get you?”

The sudden seriousness in Ellie’s tone left her husband still. Chase peeled back just enough to look down at her with new eyes.

      “What shaky monster, sweetie? Have you had bad dreams, too?”

Stacy cleared her throat then, and Chase’s neck snapped up so fast she almost flinched. He wasn’t just afraid, he was alarmed. For that split second, he’d reacted as if she were a threat. The unnerving gesture settled like ice in her stomach, but she pressed on.

      “… The shaky monster is something her new imaginary friend told her about. Apparently, her friend has a very vivid imagination.” Chase relaxed, and Stacy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding when he let the kids go, murmuring for them to collect their favorite toys. Connor and Ellie both ran to their rooms, and that familiar deafening silence slammed in their wake.

They’d shared a life together. Children. A home. Why could they never find something to say? Before she could even try to find her voice, Stacy busied herself with packing the kids some snacks, but her sleep-deprived fumbling in the fridge earned a gentle hand on her arm.

      “…Please get some sleep. I’ll pack them up. We’ll be okay.”

When they’d first separated, they both would have blamed exhaustion when she turned and buried herself against him. They’d blame stress, shot nerves, anything. Any excuse was easier to swallow than the fact they still loved each other. Love alone wasn’t enough to make a relationship work, but it had at least kept that bridge from burning. It was creaky, missing planks, and singed in more than one place, but it still stood.

      “... Don’t scare me like that again. Please.”

Blue eyes slid shut, and Chase tightened his hold.

      “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

3PM

The kids rushed to his room, the only bedroom in his run-down speck of a rental house. It was pretty much just a standalone apartment. The bed was plenty big for both of them, Chase wouldn’t let them take the couch when they stayed with him. Hopefully, one day, he could afford a bigger place.

      “Watch that rug, or you’ll faceplant!” He warned over the swell of giggles down the hall. They were already unpacking their things, namely toys, from overnight bags and piling them onto the bed. Ellie was in the process of setting up a tea party with her plushies, and Connor helped as if he knew who sat where. It warmed Chase’s heart to know they hadn’t drifted apart, as everyone warned they would. Sure, they bickered like any siblings, but Connor was fiercely protective of his baby sister, and Ellie looked up to him like a superhero.

Chase wondered if she still thought of her absent dad as a superhero.

      “Dad-Dad, can we play Minecraft!?” Conner all but materialized in front of him with hopeful brown eyes, and he couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair.

      “Sure, bud. But, you need the gamer hat of POWER!” the Adidas hat was swiped from his own head and planted over Connor’s, and the boy laughed as he pushed it up from his eyes. “GAMER POWERS ACTIVATE! AWAAAAAAAY!”

Connor sprinted down the hall with that triumphant bellow, and Chase leaned back in to check on Ellie’s tea party.

      “Do you wanna play Minecraft with us, babygirl, or are you gonna tea party?” Ellie was putting the finishing touches on everything, plushies assembled as she straightened them just so. “We missed tea time already, this is IMPORTANT to Kevin. He gets CRANKY.”

Kevin, the plush Pikachu, would not have been heard one way or another over the sudden gasp as she lifted the plastic teapot lid.

      “Daddy! We’re out of magic tea!”

Chase bit back a laugh at her convincing distress and raised a placating hand. “We’ll get you magic tea, just tell Kevin to hold on. Let me get your brother situated first.” The all-important plastic teapot was handled with care and set on the kitchen counter before blue eyes spied tiny hands guessing at his computer password.

      “AY-” Chase barked and Connor giggled, trying one more ridiculous idea while his dad stormed over and pushed the hat over his eyes, “stop using your gamer powers for evil, I raised you better than that.”

A few parental controls later, and Conner was free to fire up Minecraft, and only Minecraft. There were things online no seven year old needed to see. Then there was the matter of magic tea. A special brew only Mommy and Daddy could make, summoned with arcane magic through any kitchen faucet. She was too young for caffeine and only liked drinking decaf tea with heaping amounts of milk and sugar, which left her entire tea set sticky and in need of a wash. Stacy was the first to propose magic tea, which was just water with a backstory. The set didn’t need washed as often, and tea time was saved.

Chase set the lukewarm kettle in the middle of the blanket Ellie had spread, a compromise over dragging the entire plastic table and chairs to his house. There was a cup in front of each plushie, although Floppy the platypus had been demoted from her usual spot beside his daughter, but there was still a cup resting before the empty seat.

      “Who’s sitting there? Was Floppy bad again?”

Ellie shook her head, and Chase winced as she poured the magic tea with all the grace you’d expect at age five. “No, Daddy, that’s for my new friend! I HOPE they make it. I don’t want a RUDE friend because that would be RUDE.”

Chase felt a faint smile across his lips and shook his head. “Yell if you need me, sweetie, I’m gonna go fight monsters with your brother.”

-----

Connor wailed as a skeleton’s arrow shot him straight into lava, and kept shooting as he propelled frantically to shore. But such was the cruelty of Minecraft – just when you find diamond, disaster strikes. Chase wrapped an arm around his shoulders as the death screen popped up and all his loot burned, trying not to laugh out loud at his comic misery.

      “We’ll find more, buddy, don’t worry!”

The boy dragged the hat over his face with a dramatic groan, his voice muffled by the fabric.

      “Gamer hat of power, you have BETRAYED ME!”

That pulled a laugh from Chase’s throat, loud and warm and shaking against his son. It was infectious, always had been, and Connor found himself giggling through the hat in return.

      “It’s not- FUNNY!” Yet he was laughing almost as hard as he squirmed free of the man who was indifferent to his suffering.

      “It’s not,” Chase wheezed, “but the betrayal was. Spawn back in your bed, I’m gonna go check on your sister.”

Ellie’s voice filtered down the hall, chattering away until the sound of his footsteps reached her ears. Chase frowned at her sudden yelp and the clatter of plastic.

      “Ellie!?”

Chase threw himself down the hall, and heard her call out “Wait! Come back!” before he crashed through the doorway. She looked dismayed but fine, and turned her wide-eyed gaze to her father.

      “You scared my friend away.”

Blood thundered in his ears, fear surging through every fiber of his being without knowing why. Chase collapsed on the floor beside her and tugged his daughter close.

      “Sorry, princess. Glad your friend wasn’t rude.”

The child snuggled against her dad, she loved any and all hugs always . His blue eyes trailed to the plastic tea cup lying on its side across the room, as if it had been thrown rather than simply dropped on the vinyl slats beyond the blanket.  

      “They still don’t talk very much, but magic tea doesn’t need talking, only drinking.”

Chase let her go and retrieved the cup himself. Both their kids watched him perform on his under-viewed YouTube channel, they liked pretending for others as well. Maybe one of them would be a successful actor, that would be incredible.

      “Did you find out anything about your friend? Do they have a name?”

The girl poured Kevin more magic tea while Chase settled into the vacant spot, and she brightened at the question.

      “Yes, I did! I told them I was from Mommy’s house, and they said they were from the void.”

An easy smile slipped like melting wax from Chase’s face as Ellie lifted the toy teacup to Kevin’s lips. She’d always had a vivid imagination, but that single syllable made his blood run cold. The TV, maybe, she soaked up everything like a sponge, maybe she’d heard it from a show they left on too loud after bedtime. He couldn’t fathom why it would be ingrained in any five-year-old girl’s vocabulary.

      “… I’ve never heard of that place. Did you hear it from the TV?”

She shook her head with her whole body, like she always did, as she drank Kevin’s magic tea for him.

      “No, Daddy, my friend told me.”

      “ DAD!?”

Chase launched to his feet at Connor’s terrified voice, alarmed by the green light that drenched the hallway. His son was transfixed to the chair as the computer screen glitched with a sickly green and red static. Chase had never seen such a violent computer error in his life, but walking toward the machine was like wading through mud. The air was thick and resistant as the speakers began to shriek with unexpected feedback. The desk light that had been off since the night before flickered, flared to life, and surged with more power than he'd ever seen from that cheap, dusty bulb. Connor covered his ears as the shrieking swelled in volume and morphed into what sounded like twisted, electronic laughter.

      “Make it STOOOOOOP! ”

The boy’s scream was punctuated by the crack of the desk lamp's bulb shattering with a shower of sparks beneath the plastic shade. A shape began to form in the static just as Chase wheeled his son back, dove for the power strip, and tore the plug clean out of the wall.

Like cutting the strings off a puppet, it was gone.

Chapter Text

2AM

Sleep was nowhere near.

Both children protested his taking the couch when bedtime came, and it was hard to argue when that disturbing power surge left the living room smelling like burnt light bulb even hours later. It was the only explanation he could think of – that or a virus capable of overloading everything in the power strip a computer was connected to. Chase had never heard of such a thing, but that didn’t make it impossible.

It had taken a long while to talk Connor down in the safety of the bedroom, murmuring comforts the boy couldn’t hear through the tears. It was just a virus. Some jerk trying to be funny by making things to scare people. You’re okay, bud, I’ve got you. It took time before the tears slowed and Chase’s words filtered through. It had been a genuine relief when those brown eyes surfaced, bloodshot but no longer wild with fear.

Through it all, Ellie remained silent. There had been worry in her face, which had flickered between the hallway, her brother, and the abandoned tea party. It was the same face she wore when she’d done something wrong and might get caught. When Chase beckoned her in, she’d burrowed against his side and said nothing.

By his side was where she remained, and Connor was curled against the other. Chase never slept on his back, but it was the only way he could hold both kids at once. Connor and Ellie were sound asleep, safe in their dad’s arms.

      Enjoy it now, they’re never coming back.

The intrusive thought impaled him like a knife in the throat, and his arms tightened around them. No, kids were resilient. A few days of normalcy in their own house, and they’d forget this ever happened. If not, he’d move if he had to. It wasn’t like he was making rent, even at this tiny house. It was a huge reason Stacy had thrown in the towel; she’d been working two jobs to support him, the kids, the house, and his dream for online fame.

He’d had such hopes for his channel. It seemed like it followed all the right formulas, copied all the right elements, but it never really took off. He didn’t make enough money off it to even provide for himself, let alone his family. Every ounce of logic in the world backed Stacy’s pleas to give it up, or at least downscale the efforts so he’d have time to take a higher-income job and still make videos. Slowing down felt like giving up, he knew it could work out. He knew he could pull off enough stunts and trick shots to make the channel all they ever needed.

On the days when it became far more evident his dream had already sunk… he drank. When that sense of worthlessness crept in, he drank. When the bills piled up because he’d failed to make it all work, he drank. Yet somehow, even worse were the days when he didn’t even have the strength to lift the bottle. When the idea of leaving the house felt like being asked to pick up a mountain. When he was drowning in the screaming realization that his world was burning around him, but paralyzed to do anything about it. Like being trapped in a dead plane, watching the ground loom closer and closer, one hand on the emergency eject button he never pulled until it was too late to matter.

Like when she’d called him, sobbing – in the middle of a shoot he was supposed to cancel to watch the kids so she could sleep after three back-to-back shifts – and said she couldn’t do it anymore. At the time it had felt so important. A conference room had a late cancellation, and that time slot was offered to them at a cheap rate they'd never get again. Ice had numbed every cell in his body when he realized that shitty conference room had cost his marriage. He’d finally hit that eject button, but the plane was already a smoldering wreck on the ground. Chase died on impact, but it happened so fast that his ghost continued on as if he hadn’t.

He’d wondered if that could happen, if a death could be so quick and so clean that his brain and body wouldn’t process it right away. In one of Stephen King’s novels, “It” if he had to guess, a man had his head sliced off so fine that his body walked another fifteen steps before it collapsed. Chase was reminded of that the day he avoided an accident by inches during rush hour. Just a split second between safety and death, but he’d made it without a scratch and kept driving. Green lights. Red lights. Turns. Start. Stop. In the back of his mind, the headless man walked on.

     What if you’re still in that intersection, mangled inside this car, and this is just what your brain expected to happen next. It’s just your dying neurons filling in the gaps. Say goodbye.

Stacy’s phone call felt no different. Chase Brody was already dead. He was a ghost, trying to tell his wife and kids he still loved them.

That week had been the hardest stretch of time in his entire life. The only kind thing depression ever did for him was dim the memory almost beyond recognition. He’d read that once, how it impaired memory, and it was true. There were so many lights turned off in his brain, he didn’t remember much. Bits and pieces, blurred scenes and dread. Chase couldn’t recall any particular moment with conviction, and his sister wasn’t one to talk about it.

Chase owed her so much. Charlie brought him back to her apartment and took care of him throughout. He had been vaguely aware she was livid that things had gotten so bad, but she loved her baby brother. Loved him and was terrified of him. Chase hadn’t watched it happen, but the windows were all locked and her place had been emptied of pills and knives, anything that could cause harm with low effort. He hadn’t had the strength for elaborate effort when he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, so the easiest means of hurting himself were removed. He couldn’t remember wanting or looking for one at Charlie’s apartment, but that wasn’t saying much.

There had been meals and water ordered down his throat. No system in his body wanted to exist, let alone work, but she had been determined to keep him functional. Chase didn’t know what would have happened without Charlie. Yet Stacy had been the one to call her. To warn her…

In the stillness of the bedroom, wedged between the two tiny souls he loved most in the world, sleep was creeping up on him. Turning the same fucking circles in his mind would tire him out eventually, and it had. Chase wouldn’t remember in the morning, but just before he sank into sleep, he thought he heard the scrape of a plastic teacup against the vinyl floor.

------

Pancakes. Happiness in breakfast form. Chase filled the batter with sprinkles and gave the kids whatever horrifying topping they wanted. Ellie chose butter, peanut butter and frosting, and Connor wanted syrup, peanut butter and more sprinkles. Stacy would be less than thrilled about the sheer amount of sugar he’d fed their children, but it was worth it to see the kids giggling and laughing again. The computer stayed off, and the kitchen felt like an optimistic little bubble.

      “WAIT- I need chocolate sauce,” Connor announced, and Chase pressed a hand against his face with dismayed laughter. “Child, why, you have enough shit on your pancakes already!”

Ellie exploded with laughter, as she always did when he swore. He and Stacy kept it mild, neither of them had been able to give up cursing completely, and they did so with the express rule that bad words were not to be repeated. Connor’s face was bright with determination as he used the knock-off chocolate sauce in awkward strokes to write across his pancakes. A right challenge, given the dips and valleys of the toppings already on them.

      “THERE,” he declared, spinning the plate around for his dad and sister to see, and sloppy abbreviated letters spelled his latest catch phrase, “positive mental attitude!”

Chase laughed and Ellie clapped, it was hard not to be lifted by his pride. It carried them through dishes, getting dressed, and packing up. The tea set was returned to the bag; a pink kettle, a green sugar bowl and cream cup, six blue plates, but only five yellow campfire mugs. Chase counted again, but a little plastic cup was missing.

      “Sorry baby, I’ll keep looking. Your new imaginary friend might have to sit one out.”

Ellie heaved a theatrical sigh and lifted her realistic Tyrannosaurus Rex to peer in its open jaws and squint down its throat. “Gerald, we TALKED about this. Cups are for DRINKING.”

      Why are my kids funnier than me, Chase thought to himself as he pushed the rest of the toys off the bed and into the overnight bag. At least they weren’t silent and desperate to leave his place, as he’d feared they would be. Between staying with them all night, and the lighthearted breakfast, one would think nothing had happened at all.

-----

Connor’s positive mental attitude rubbed off even when they returned home. It was Saturday, no one had to work, and Stacy couldn’t help but brighten at how cheerful her family seemed. Chase had helped the kids unpack, and they’d shared a cup of coffee and a casual conversation. It shook him how something could feel so natural, and yet so odd.

      “I almost forgot-”

Her purse was tugged from its peg by the door, and she pulled out a folded flyer for him to inspect. Blue eyes narrowed when the creases were smoothed to reveal a job listing.

      “I found that by the campus today, they need someone who can video edit and record. The pay is decent, and you’re great with cameras, this could be easy money for you. Please look it over and think about it. Hell, you might learn something you can use on the channel.”

Chase’s throat was dry as he scanned the summary, but he forced himself to nod. It made sense, a lot of sense, and fuck if he didn’t need the money.

      “Yeah- yeah. Thanks, Stace. I’ve got to get going, thanks for the coffee.”

The flyer folded and disappeared in his back pocket, and he stood to find his kids to say goodbye. Connor was in own room, building a city out of legos, and he didn’t hesitate to give his dad a hug and a smile. Ellie was in the room across the hall, setting up the proper tea party with its own miniature table and chairs. Her hug was tight as ever, but that worried expression surfaced again when he let her go.

      “… Are you gonna be safe from the shaky monster?”

Again with the inexplicable ice in his stomach. She was a kid, they were all scared of things that weren’t real. Chase knelt to her level, and his voice was nothing but calm.

      “There’s no such thing as a shaky monster.”

      “There IS! Daddy, you SAW IT, you saw it on the COMPUTER!”

Uncertainty flit across his face, but it must not have been subtle enough to hide from her. Ellie buried herself against him, and he all but swallowed her in his arms.

      “… Ellie, why was your cup across the room when I came in last night? Who did you tell to come back?”

      “My friend dropped it. They ran away.”

      “Why?”

      “They said ‘it’s here.’”

Chase’s heart was hammering in his chest. She was good at pretend, sometimes scary good at pretend, but this still felt genuine. Even for a great performance, she hated seeing anyone sad, least of all her family. Pieces were stacking together, one by one, and he was terrified of the bigger picture.

      “… Is your friend the shaky monster?”

      “NO!”

She looked up then, and shook her head with her entire body. “They’re NOT! They drank magic tea with me!”

The room threatened to spin around him, and Chase's hands fumbled for the endless sheets of paper and crayons that were always in the corner of the room. He brought a stack and all 32 colors with him.

      “Do me a favor, draw your friend and draw the monster. It will help me be on the lookout, I don’t want to yell at your friend on accident, okay?”

Ellie accepted that with as sage of a nod as a five year old could give, and began to scribble. Chase helped himself to magic tea just for something to do with his hands while he waited for a verdict, far too tense for something as simple as a crayon drawing. It wasn't until Ellie was handing him the paper that he realized the black crayon was blunt from how much she'd used it.

      “That’s my friend,” she pointed to the figure on the left, “and that’s what my friend said the shaky monster is. My friend was cold. I gave them your coat.”

      “My good leather one?”

Sure enough, the figure on the left sported a five-year-old’s crayon interpretation of his black leather jacket on a stick figure that looked like Leon Kennedy with white hair. The other side of the head was colored gray but short, maybe like an undercut, though he didn’t think she’d ever seen someone with one. All around the friend were squiggles of red, like waves. The figure on the right… was just dark. The face was colored in with the black crayon, save for two round dots of green that might have been eyes under the streaks of green she’d colored over the entire body and beyond it.

Well, if there was a shadow monster stalking him, he supposed Leon Kennedy was someone he’d want on his side.

      “Can you tell me more about your friend? I like his hair.”

      “They kinda sound like Mommy. And they don’t stay still good.”

So the friend may be a she? Chase thought, glancing over the stick figure again. Ellie used ‘they’ for anyone and anything, it came easiest for her and it didn’t matter to her parents one way or another. Even Mommy and Daddy were sometimes ‘they’ in that context.

      “Your friend was nice to you?”

Ellie nodded and tugged Kevin close for a hug.

      “They had magic tea. Until the monster came. They said they were from the void so I will name them void. If they had a different name, they should have told me.”

2PM

Two folds of paper were stuck in his back pocket, the drawing and the job listing. Chase tried not to think of either as he rushed through the convenience store for a spare lightbulb and some ramen. Those cheap ass noodles were about the only things he could buy in bulk to feed himself these days. That and Taco Bell.

Yet the past two days haunted him, even through the electrical aisle. The parking garage, the computer glitch, the imaginary friend. It felt like they were all linked to both himself and something larger.

      Or you drank until you blacked out and found yourself on that garage, the computer glitch was just a fucked up new virus, and your kid with the wild imagination made up a new friend because she’s fucking lonely. Get your shit together.

He tried. Paid for his stuff with a wince, and drove home. Changed the bulb, and found the light worked fine. Fired up the computer with no problem, and the Minecraft game had saved before Connor was shot into lava. Chase wasn’t sure when he’d be ready to play it again, but he got Steve home safe with the diamonds anyway. No glitches, no freezes, no weird audio. Just a computer, doing what computers do.

When it couldn't be put off any longer, he forced himself to compose an email to the address on the job listing, indicating interest and availability to meet. Stacy was right, he needed the money, and there was no way he could pass up something that both paid decent and was in the realm of what he wanted to do with his life.

      I don’t want to crush your dreams, Chase, but it’s breaking me trying to hold us up alone. You’ve got to meet me halfway!

Chase heaved a sigh and hit send. Something had to be done, and fast, or he was going to get evicted before he could come up with rent money. The listing was returned to his pocket, but his thumb brushed over the corner of Ellie’s drawing, and he found himself unfolding it again. Between the two figures, the shaky monster looked more like a void than the Leon Kennedy wannabe. His head shook as he hauled himself out of the chair and stuck the drawing to the fridge with a magnet. There wasn’t much real estate left on his fridge, but he made room.

      My Friend was cold. I gave them your coat.

Brows furrowed at the crude drawing of a jacket before his gaze drifted down the empty hall. Chase’s throat felt dry as he forced himself to walk, one step at a time, until he stood before the closet. He’d packed damn near every item the kids had brought himself before they left, he would have seen it or felt it, even if she’d stashed it toward the bottom of the bag. The closet door creaked open, and between his hoodies and flannels was a single empty hanger.

His leather coat was gone.

      CRASH

Chase jumped out of his skin and his gaze was wrenched in the direction of the kitchen. He was alone, the kids were at home, he didn’t even have a pet to blame it on.

      Maybe a dish fell in the sink we had a shit ton of pancakes this morning and I didn’t do any of those fucking dishes why would I that would be the sane adult thing to do-

A handgun was pulled from a box on the highest shelf in the closet and loaded. The hallway had never felt longer.

      I’m about to put a bullet in a fucking frying pan it’ll probably ricochet and fucking kill me I’m going to die over the fucking dishes they’re going to put that on my grave Chase Brody died to kitchenware may he rest in fucking pieces-

The air almost seemed to hum with an energy he’d never felt in his life. A red haze had settled over the kitchen and living room, though the sink was still around the corner. There was a sound he could only describe as tearing. He’d heard things being ripped apart before, but the sound resonated in his bones. It was like reality had been torn.

He watched as the red haze magnetized from every corner of the room and condensed in a billow of crimson smoke. The gun shook in his hands as the fumes parted to reveal the outline of a person.

      “GET OUT,” Chase screamed, finding his voice at last, “GET OUT OR I’LL SHOOT!”

The figure lurched at the sound, trying with disjointed effort to turn. It shimmered and glitched, as if staying still took energy it didn't have. A calf flickered out of existence and brought it down to its still-forming hands and knees. Its head lifted, devoid of a face but somehow locked on his, and he fired.

The gun was jammed.

      “FUCK,” it was almost a sob, and he tried to take the weapon apart with shaking hands while the figure continued to condense and solidify. It still glitched and lurched like it had never used muscles in its life, and its head dipped as more details began to emerge. His leather jacket gathered into being around foreign shoulders. Skin gray as a corpse’s spread across the neck and downturned face. White hair materialized on one side of its head, the other shaved down. Still on all fours, one of its twisted hands was clutched around a yellow plastic mug.

The gun was almost forgotten, along with how to breathe. Chase didn’t move a muscle as the energized humming around the hunched and flickering figure eased. Not a figure anymore, but a person. Or something pretending to be.

      “… Void.”

It didn’t answer, save for a tightened grip around the toy teacup. It seemed unsure what to do next.

      “What are you!?” he finally burst, “Why are you here!?”

      “You let- me in.”

The voice was rough, broken up, and almost layered. Chase wasn't sure how else to describe it. Like it was used to neither speaking or limiting itself to a single wavelength. Actual tears threatened in the corners of his eyes while the adrenaline in his veins ramped up to eleven. No, it wasn’t Stacy’s voice, but it was similar. Low, but still feminine. Was that meant to fuck with him? Was this thing trying to mimic her? It was different, but it was almost like he wanted to hear her through this stranger.

      “I don’t even know who you are, how could you say I let you in!?”

That face snapped up to meet his so fast, he lurched backward and fell on his ass. There was no white in its eyes, they were completely black inside its skull. Black spiderweb veins snaked beneath the skin of its face, which was otherwise… unremarkable. Androgynous and almost bland, like a face you would forget the moment it left your sight. Take away the eldritch horror, and this thing would look like anyone and no one at all. Chase could only watch as it lurched to its feet, still unsteady and in danger of coming undone. The red mist that had taken over his kitchen seemed to manifest from its own body.

      “You- opened. The doorway. You LET. Me IN.”

That tearing noise enveloped his entire world – reality shredding itself to make way for this creature’s agenda. Chase yelped as it vanished in a billow of crimson smoke just to reappear an inch from his face. There was no emotion, no anger, no fear, no empathy in their expression. Yet something like recognition flickered through, and the nightmare tore itself from existence, yellow teacup and all.

Chase’s chest heaved, his heart pounded, but a strange sense of calm washed over him. Alarm bells sounded in his mind, but even they were soothed. The room grew darker and darker, like the fading of a dream, and he welcomed it, even as what felt like an icy hand folded over his eyes.

      To̷o mu͝c̵h͝ ́ex͟ci͜te̛mȩn̡t͡ ̧fǫr̶ ͢onȩ ́d͞a̷y.͏ ͏

      See̸ you s͏o̷o͏n͠.

Chapter Text

9AM

Beep…… Beep…… Beep…… Beep…… Beep…… Beep……

It was like dredging a wreck from the bottom of the ocean, buried by sand, sediment and time. Inch by painful inch, it rose from the depths, but not without a fight.

Beep... Beep... Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…

It almost sounded like a heart monitor, and he waited for it to flatline.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

      You’re already dead. Your neurons are just filling in the gaps, Brody. Say goodbye.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-

Blue eyes cracked open and fell on his shrieking iPhone, desperate to pull him from sleep. His eyes pressed shut again while his hand swiped at the cell and managed to shut it off without looking. Chase fully intended to go back to sleep, but his wrist was pulled from the comforter so he could check his watch.

      9:23am…?

His alarm didn’t have an automatic snooze, it kept beeping until he did something about it. Which meant this thing had been screaming for a full twenty-three minutes before it woke him up. Chase never slept that hard unless it had been a night of drinking. Even after the night he’d been thrown on that parking garage, he’d woken up the minute his alarm went off.

But fuck was he tired.

It took an astronomical will to tug the covers off and reach for his phone, and he hoped the sudden chill would be enough to get him moving. Turned out it wasn’t the cold, but the notification of an email that managed to pull him from the bed. Chase swung his legs over the edge and squinted at the screen with both hope and paranoia, waiting for the rug to be pulled from under him.

The guy from the job listing liked his qualifications and wanted to meet. If he pulled this off, he’d at least have part-time work, which was better than nothing. Hopefully he could sweet-talk his way into a full-time position. Chase typed a response with numb fingers, still more than a little groggy, but autocorrect saved his ass. Fucking hell, all he wanted to do was sleep…

A broad hand scrubbed over his face and lingered against his eyes. He didn’t remember turning in last night, but he remembered bits and pieces of a nightmare. Black eyes and so much red… he’d tried to shoot at a monster and couldn’t.

      You- opened. The doorway. You LET. Me IN.

Chase let his hand drop and hauled his aching frame to the closet door. Sure, the leather jacket was still missing, but Ellie probably managed to stuff it at the bottom of the bag, under both their pajamas. The gun box was exactly where he’d left it, and the unloaded gun was still safe inside. The pancake dishes were still in the sink, the wrapper from the brick of ramen he must have eaten for dinner was on top in the garbage can. Ellie’s crayon drawing was on the fridge. He’d just passed out at some point and dreamed about her imaginary monsters. Weirder shit had happened.

      Like getting teleported to the top of a building?

Chase’s eyes cinched shut and his pale hands gripped the counter. He wanted to believe he’d gotten drunk and ended up there, god he wanted to believe that. He couldn’t. But this, Chase thought as he scanned the unblemished apartment again, this he could believe. Just a nightmare. Because not even his dying neurons could dream he’d wake up safe and sound with a potential job offer.

------

Chase could hardly see straight, and the computer screen wavered and warped the longer he stared. Sleep had eluded him the past few days, but he’d thrown himself into the job regardless. Editing video after video, collecting that paycheck, and feeling an enormous weight lift off his shoulders when he dropped his rent check in the landlord’s mailbox. Even the nightmares were pushed aside, although Ellie reminded him every time he visited.

                  Daddy, I don’t HAVE your coat, I gave it to my FRIEND.

            I’m scared the shaky monster will come back.

      Void said you invited them, are you friends now too?

      “What?”

 Chase blinked hard at the tiny hand that tugged his arm, and it managed to tear his gaze from the laptop to his daughter. It wasn’t much of a visit with him working, but Stacy hadn’t argued and the kids just gravitated around his spot on the couch. Ellie wore his own frustrated expression, the one Stace insisted was scarily similar to his. He swore the same of Connor and the face his mother wore when she was angry.

      “Are you friends?”

      “I’m-” he gave a distracted little shrug, “sure. Let me finish this video, sweetie, and then I’ll come tea party with you.”

That was enough for her. Ellie’s face brightened and she thundered back to her room to get everything ready. Chase felt a bit guilty that he would have to move Connor, who had curled against his side and passed out some time ago. Kid was a chronic snuggler. Chase hoped he wouldn’t lose that part of him as he got older and society crushed the idea that boys were allowed to hug.

He always thought back to the group of friends he ran with in college, Jonny was fearless when it came to affection. He was happily married and he hugged all of the guys, used them as pillows, was never afraid to say “I love you” or that they looked good. He remembered Brad telling Nathan how weird it was for him to do that, but Bernadette had summed it up in her usual blunt manner. I think it’s healthy, look at him. Jonny’s the happiest motherfucker alive. If guys hadn’t decided it was weird to do shit like hug each other or say ‘I love you,’ maybe y’all wouldn’t be so fuckin’ miserable. Chase remembered walking away laughing, but still managed to hear Nathan and then Brad mumble, “I love you, though.” “I love you, too.”

Connor could be the next Jonny, confusing his friends, beating the system, and making everyone happier for it. As long as he forgave his dear old dad for sliding an arm under his legs and back and lifting him away from the warmest nap spot in the house. Connor’s peaceful face melted into a scowl as the movement jostled him awake, and it remained when he slumped against Chase’s chest in defeat.

      “My pillow woke me up.”

      “Sorry, bud, but your sister is gonna kick my ass if I miss tea party.”

      “But m’tired…”

The door to his room was shouldered open, and Connor was set on his bed long enough for Chase to tug off his hoodie and hand it to him.

      “Have a peace offering, it’s still warm.” Conner was eager to accept his tribute, and he tugged the fabric years beyond his size over his tiny frame and threw himself horizontal. “Wake me in 3,000 years,” he half giggled as Chase pulled a blanket up to his shoulders. Chase couldn’t help but snort and ruffle his son’s already mussed hair. “Sure. I’ll go carve that on my Mayan calendar.”

Ellie’s humming reached him before he reached her, but the red light that spilled from her room and into the hallway gripped his stomach and squeezed. It was fine, it was fine, he hadn’t forgotten about her color-changing light. It had been a Christmas present, and she loved to cycle through the colors for her little toy plays. Tea party was always, always bubblegum pink. Today, she’d picked red. It wasn’t a big deal.

      Green wouldn’t have been much better.

Chase forced the thought away and plastered a smile for his youngest. He wasn’t going to comment on the color of the light, or how loudly it hummed.

      Had it always been that loud?

Ellie didn’t give him a chance to dwell on it before tugging out a tiny plastic chair for him to sit.

      “Here, Daddy, this one!” She directed, and Chase dutifully crammed himself onto it, knees in his ears until he could push the chair back from the table a bit. He hadn’t managed to dethrone Kevin the Pikachu, who still held his spot next to Ellie while Chase was nestled between Kevin and Gerald, the realistic T-Rex. Next to Gerald was Queen Sting Ray, a crudely-stitched felt Christmas ornament. Its body was red and its wings were yellow, and the green spots and dopey eyes had sold her on the spot. Ellie found it in one of the post-holiday reject bins at Target. Fifty cents later, she was a prized staple of tea party. On the other side of Ellie should have been Floppy the platypus, but the seat was empty.

      “What did Floppy do this time? She’s not even here.” Ellie poured them all some magic tea with a squint of concentration, and he was proud that she hadn’t spilled a drop. “Floppy is on a trop’cal vacation in Canada before the plat-puss meeting. It’s VERY stressful.”

He inwardly giggled at ‘tropical Canada,’ but was always curious about her world-building. The platypus hierarchy was displeased with current affairs, and Floppy was an authority figure expected to do something about it. Whether or not Floppy had resolved the issues prevalent in the platypus community before she took her tropical Canadian vacation was unknown at this time. The kid was just trying to mimic adults, why was it so damn funny.

There was an audible crack through his spine when Chase stretched in the cramped seat with a groan. The red light made the magic tea look almost like fruit punch, and his eyes lifted from the yellow plastic campfire mug to the empty spot across from him. Floppy may have been on vacation, but there was still a filled tea cup in front of the vacant chair.

      “Floppy’s not here, why did she still get a cup? She’s drinking margaritas on the beach without us.” Ellie giggled, and – always the doting host – made sure the solitary cup was still filled with magic tea. “That’s my friend’s cup. Say hi, Void!”

A tiny hand waved at the empty space, though she seemed not at all perturbed when nothing happened. Chase let out a quiet sigh of relief, though he felt stupid doing it. No, there was no logical explanation for the parking garage, but at least the imaginary friend was imaginary. Ellie was sold on this performance, and it was harmless to just let her go.

      “If I leave and come back, will your friend give back my jacket?”

The question was idle, but blue eyes were already scanning the room for where it could have been stashed. Under the bed, maybe, that was about as creative as her hiding places got. If the coat just ‘appeared,’ then she could keep the magic alive. Flawless as the plan seemed, Ellie full-body shook her head in response.

      “No, Daddy, they get COLD. They NEED it. They don’t like the AIR.”

      “What do you mean, they don’t like the air,” Chase couldn’t help but laugh, “how do they breathe if they don’t like air? Do they like the water?” He threw the magic tea from his half-empty cup toward the empty chair, fully expecting it to splatter against the plastic and fake wood floor.

It did not.

For the briefest moment, water splashed against something solid between the table and the chair. Every particle of red in the room violently condensed, pulled from the walls, the floor, their skin, their hair as Ellie began to scream. Stripped of its veil, the overhead light blazed not red but the traditional bubblegum pink of tea party, and it only contrasted the alarm that exploded in his gut.

The plastic table was thrown aside as the writhing red mass rocketed around the room faster than either of them could see. Paintings were thrown off the walls, toys were launched in the air, sheets were ripped off the bed. Chase instinctively threw a still-screaming Ellie to the ground and shielded her with his own body. That horrible tearing sound roared over the destruction, vibrating the both of them down to their cores, and he couldn’t hold it back when his own jaw unhinged and screamed.

The shattering of the window left them huddled in quiet until car alarm after car alarm began to shriek down the street, further and further away. Whatever the entity was had gone right, and it sounded like every car from their house to Henrik Drive was wailing. Chase didn’t move, and Ellie hardly breathed even after the last vehicle had been silenced. He felt Connor’s arms trying to hug his shoulder, still swallowed by his dad’s hoodie, but Chase couldn’t bring himself to unravel from their spot on the floor. Somehow, the light had survived, and the silent three were bathed in bubblegum as Stacy’s feet shuffled in the doorway.

      “Look at you all… just sitting there.”

That familiar voice was hoarse and twisted, higher pitched than Chase had ever heard it in his life. Connor’s arms tightened, and Chase’s gaze managed to meet those brown irises he’d die for, but Stacy’s eyes were a bright and sickly green.

A wide, unnatural smile split his wife’s face in two. Her head tossed and jerked on her shoulders like it was tied to a marionettist with Parkinson’s as she neared, one disjointed step at a time.

      “Scare̷d͜ it͟ ąw̴a̶y̵- a͘g̛ain͠..͡. ̴ I̷ ̧a̧m- ͟i͢n co̶nt͟rol̸..̵.̛ u̢nl̵i̴k̴e̵ ̷YO̶U͘.͞

            “ You- ̢let the ͠m̵o͜nstèrs ̀in̡,͠ ̀Ch̵as͏ey ̛bo͡y. T̷his̴ is̵ ͜all̀- yo͜ur ͟F̵A͢U͞LT͞.

      “T͘h̕is̵ ̵is̛ JU̸ST́- t͏he ͞B̷EGI͝N̡N̶IŅG͠.͏”

Chase slowly rose to his feet, hands raised, heart pounding in his chest. The glitch from the computer. It seized him like a vice, and would not let go. The idea that some teenager’s prank was somehow wearing his wife like a suit. Ellie's hushed voice from a lifetime ago floated to the front of his mind.

       Did the shaky monster get you?

Stacy’s grin only widened with another deliberate step forward. Those foreign green eyes cut to each of them in turn through the sharp, twitching movements, and Chase’s breath caught when they landed on him. He stood paralyzed as Stacy’s head tilted almost to her shoulder with a smile.

      “A͢nd ̡t̛h̶en..͏. ͝t̵here̷ w͠ȩre̛..̢. ţhr̷e̢e.”

A knife slid into Stacy’s hand from the sleeve of her sweater. The children screamed as it flashed toward her own throat.

Chapter Text

11PM

The stillness of the hospital was almost unnerving after the endless stream of doctors, nurses and cops. Chase was lucky he had been lucid enough to refuse treatment for his bleeding hand – he wasn’t on any health insurance and it would cost him a fortune. He’d superglue the cut when he got home. In the meantime, it was wrapped with stolen bandages from a supply room.

Chase was also immensely lucky no one had taken his kids.

They sat beside him on the bench, curled into his ribs and finally, finally silent. Nothing could have prepared them for what happened in that room. Not for the destruction, and not for their mother trying to slit her own throat. Chase moved faster than he ever had or ever would again, and he’d grabbed her wrist and braced her sternum before the blade went too deep. It felt like pushing and pulling a mountain, every ounce of strength in his body was poured into that singular moment. The demon that wore her seemed almost surprised. The knife was wrestled out of Stacy’s hand just as a fist collided with his eye socket. Chase didn’t wake up until the police were at their door. His black eye was going to remind him of that moment for weeks.

What could he have told the strangers who had consumed his world? That Ellie’s room was torn apart by a smoke demon he’d made the mistake of thrown a drink on? That Stacy had been possessed by a different demon that came from his computer? That two unexplainable things had invaded his home in the same night?

Thank god the cops and doctors agreed the angle of the laceration on her neck looked self-inflicted. She’d been unconscious when the ambulance came, and that hadn’t changed hours later. The nurses and labs were running every toxicology test they had, trying to figure out what she might have taken to induce that kind of behavior.

They wouldn’t find anything. The shaky monster was gone and all they could do was hope like hell it hadn’t taken Stacy with it. She was stable, her heart was beating, her lungs were breathing, but she wouldn’t wake up. Chase hoped beyond hope this was all his own nightmare, and he’d hear his alarm any minute. The red mass sucking away from the light played over and over again in his mind just as vivid as the fight with the glitch. It had coated Ellie’s room like a blanket, and they’d had tea party inside. He’d thought it was just the color of the light, not the essence of a monster. Yet…

Blue eyes descended slowly to Ellie’s sleeping form, and she had never looked so small curled against him. Void could have torn her apart as easily as the room, but she hadn’t been touched. The

      creature? Ghost? Entity?

had been there long enough that Ellie was already used to the presence. It was there before he walked in, and remained until he’d thrown water on it. Whatever it was, whatever it wanted, it had never hurt Ellie. For fuck’s sake, she’d conversed with it. Given it his damn jacket and a higher place of honor at the tea party table than her old man. He wished he could be comforted by these truths, but he wasn’t. For all they knew, Void could have been biding time before killing them all. Maybe it was just more patient than the twitching monster that stole his wife.

Against all odds, sleep was inviting him in. Promising a few hours away from it all. There was nothing to keep him awake but the steady drone of Stacy’s monitors and the quiet breathing of his kids. Chase didn’t fight it. His heavy eyes drifted shut, and his breaths grew as even as his children’s.

-----

It had been a quiet shift, all things considered. A gruff man was illuminated by the glow of security cameras on several large monitors, but he was far more interested in the box of Chinese takeout on the desk in front of it. Activity in the hospital died at this hour unless there was an emergency, he didn’t have to be as vigilant. Especially after one of the monitors had worked through whatever bug that made it glitch and waver with green static. Without the need to squint at those particular feeds, he could eat in peace.

The furthest monitor to his left showed the various cameras in the morgue, which was empty. Patricia only worked that late if she was called in or backed up on bodies, and it wasn’t much of a target for breaking in. There was nothing in it but chemicals, cadavers, and some gruesome tools. It didn't need even half the security of the pharmacy, and for that it escaped his attention. Even when the feed flickered red and a figure stumbled into view, clutching its eyes against the glare of florescent lights. It was the sudden dimness that caught the guard’s gaze when the lights flicked off and the camera automatically switched to the green glow of night vision.

      “What the hell,” he groused, and the plastic fork was dropped into his chicken teriyaki before the chair rolled over to the offending screen. Someone was in there, either a teenager or a short adult if he had to guess. They had a leather jacket with the hood up, and he managed to catch a glimpse of white hair, but the eyes were so dim in the night vision, it almost looked like a face with empty sockets.

The guard squinted as a hand reached for the radio to call it in, but curiosity kept his finger off the button. He was more confident now that this was an adult, and he watched the person wrap a hand around the combination lock on Patricia’s locker. The screen glitched with a flicker of red, and the lock was thrown over a shoulder like it had been ripped clean off.

      “What the hell?”

Hands every bit as pale as the nearby corpses in storage rummaged through Patricia’s belongings, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to trigger the radio. He watched the intruder tug Patricia’s goggles and glasses out for inspection in the darkness. The goggles were aviator style with mirrored red lenses that Pat absolutely loved when work in the morgue called for a pair, and the other were mirrored red aviator sunglasses someone had bought her to match the goggles. The intruder stuffed the glasses in a coat pocket and tugged the goggles over their eyes.

The radio sat idle in his hand until the person moved to a table of instruments and tested the weight and balance of a pair of long, pointed trocars. The kind that looked like syringes from hell. He stared open-mouthed and jumped out of his skin when the radio barked to life in his ear.

      “Jeff, I was going to say this is closer to you, but I think we need to coordinate on this one. Over.”

Jeff swallowed hard as Patricia’s goggles seemed to stare right into the camera before the person turned to leave with their newfound weapons.

      “Taser and your gun ready, Dave, this ain’t a fucking patient-”

The hallway camera outside the morgue jarred and rippled, the picture damn near unwatchable as the figure strode in the direction of Jeff’s office. The now-armed intruder seemed to glitch on the screen, and every shift was accompanied by an overhead light going out. Something that could have been passed off as a computer error if he couldn’t hear the distant crackle of electricity echoing down the hall.

-----

It was screams that ripped Chase from sleep. He woke to a desperate mix of hollering and the occasional “CODE WHITE” that shrieked from everywhere and nowhere.

      “Dad, what’s happening!?” Connor held him like a vice, his eyes wide as silent tears ran down Ellie’s ashen face. Chase could get them out, but not Stacy, she was fucking helpless on that bed think, bastard, THINK-

      “Get in the bathroom and lock the door, don’t open it for anyone but me!” He all but threw his children in the direction of the only obvious safe place before slamming the door to Stacy’s unit shut. He had the same revelation his daughter did a millisecond later.

      “Daddy, the door doesn’t lock!” her tiny face appeared in the crack, but Chase was already trying to barricade the unit entrance with anything that wasn’t bolted down or keeping Stacy alive. “Just stay in there, baby, I’m come-”

The words died in his throat. Through the small window in the door, he saw black wrapped in red. Eyes were hidden behind massive googles and an enormous syringe was gripped in each palm. Solid at last, Void was shorter than he remembered, and striding with determination straight for Stacy’s room. Its outline still glitched and spasmed, and every pulse seemed to send out a haze of red to shatter a passing light. It was coming for them, and it was leaving darkness and chaos in its wake.

A guard with a gun attempted to block the demon’s path with a shouted order to lower the weapons. That familiar tearing noise filled the world, and Void vanished in a plume of red. That red was the last he saw of the guard before and arc of blood splattered against the window.

Chase’s eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth wrenched open as Void's face manifested in the stained window, and he heard the turn of the door handle. He gripped the metal in both of his own and held it for all he had, but the rattle in his very bones was enough to know that red smoke filled the room behind. It sounded like Void ripped the world in two every time they teleported, and the not-screaming part of his brain wondered if that wasn’t what they were doing. Tearing out of one reality to fill a space nearby. He wasn’t given time to reflect on that before the goggles turned toward Stacy’s inert form.

      “Get up.”

Their voice was quiet, but somehow resonated. There was a beat of suffocating silence, and Stacy remained unconscious on the gurney. That frenetic shimmer of red stole over the wraith's body at the lack of response, and a syringe raised over their head.

      “FINE.”

There was no thought process as Chase threw himself at the demon. He grabbed at their shoulders to drag them back and away, and the effort earned a blow to the sternum so hard that he saw stars. Vision and hearing tunneled as the ceiling filled his gaze, yet even that pain couldn’t keep him down. Chase clenched his jaw and struggled upright like a man drunk as Void returned to Stacy, but there was still hesitation in their body language as a syringe was drawn back again. Before the needle could descend, Ellie threw herself over her mother.

Silence choked the room again. Even the ring of the alarms felt distant. Void was more still than Chase had ever seen, but the syringe didn’t lower.

      “MOVE.”

      “NO! The shaky monster is GONE, that’s just MOMMY!”

Ellie was quaking and sheet pale, but defiant. Void’s mouth tightened along with their grip on the weapon.

      “Move or I will move you.”

      “HE’S GONE! HE LEFT AFTER HE HIT DADDY, HE’S ALL GONE!”

Her scream was punctuated by the sharp WHACK of a metal tray against the back of the demon’s head, and Chase felt some sense of satisfaction at the grunt of pain that followed. It wasn’t invulnerable, just damn hard to catch. Stars still danced in his vision as the tray was raised like a shield, and he held his ground.

      “Stay the hell away from my family. I didn’t let you in.”

      “You did,” Void spat as they straightened, but the syringes were pointed to the ground. “Sitting in your car full of trash and regret. You pounded the steering wheel and you screamed. You were alone, but you wanted to be heard. And it we both know it wasn’t the first time.”

Color began to drain from the man’s face. It felt like he was being pulled into the depths of frigid water, one icy inch at a time.

      “I don’t understand-”

      “That much emotion, that much desire to be heard, it can leave a mark. I guess even someone like you can weaken the veil. The first time, it let the glitch in. The second time, in the car, it was me.”

      “What does that MEAN!?” Chase's knuckles white against the medical tray, “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HUNTED!”

Void’s head tilted, and the syringes were shifted to one hand so the other could push back the goggles. Whatever they intended to do didn't last long, because those soulless black eyes slammed shut at the glare of the overhead light, and the lenses were tugged back on. Chase couldn’t help but recoil as a plume of red smoke brought those red goggles within inches of his face, though he had to angle his head down to meet them.

      “You screamed into the void because you want to be heard. You don't understand that it listens."

Chase and the kids jumped when security rammed the barricaded door with muffled demands to open up. Void spared the efforts a glance and turned their back to the family.

      “… It really is just your luck that you opened the doorway to the worst thing in it.”

      “You?”

Chase’s blurted question brought and unnerving chuckle of disbelief, and half a smile crept across the demon’s face as security pushed the door further.

      “N-hh-NO-o-o-” it was almost a laugh, a mirthless, pitying laugh that cut somehow deeper than everything that had come before it. “NO. He's so much worse than me.”

The brutal honesty wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed, but the guards were about through, and he blurted the one question that surfaced.

      "What- what's his name?"

      "... Anti."

The door managed to burst open, but with a billow of red smoke, the demon was gone. In the deafening silence that followed, unseen by any survivor in that room, the corner of Stacy’s mouth crept into the faintest smile.

Chapter Text

The days that followed were an absolute blur. Somehow his body was going through all the right motions – his kids made it to and from school, the fridge wasn’t empty, the bills were paid on time. Then his eyes would blink and take in the hospital room, or Stacy’s kitchen, or the couch in front of the TV, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he got there. It was like there were two Chases – one living his life and one just along for the ride.

His job had been understanding, and he was free to work from home as long as Stacy and the kids needed help. It had been easier to move back to their old house for the time being, and it was better for the kids to maintain some sense of normalcy. Connor followed him everywhere he went like a sad, frightened shadow. He tried so hard to perk them up with his “positive mental attitude!” but his face wavered with fear every time Chase had to leave the room. Ellie was just silent. She’d speak if spoken to, she’d hug back if she was held. Otherwise, it was like his daughter died, and he was caring for her ghost.

Chase wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he couldn’t live with it anymore. He’d picked her up, hugged her close, and he’d begged.

      Come back to us, sweetie. Daddy needs you, please.

It started slow, and then she wailed. Wrenching sobs too big for her tiny body. He’d murmured to get it all out, that Mommy was going to be okay, but her anguish ripped him apart until his own fell. All three of them ended up on the floor, clinging to each other, trying to promise everything would be okay.

The kids cried themselves to sleep, and the moment he’d left them safe on Stacy’s bed, he got to work in Ellie’s room. She’d moved in with Chase in Stacy’s room for the time being, as Connor’s bed was too small for both of them and that was bickering no one needed. The drywall had been spared, but the window was still broken and there was shit everywhere. He patched the sill with duct tape and a tarp – the best he could do until they called someone to put a new window in – and got to putting away toys, reassembling the broken tea party table, hanging the pictures back up. The sheets were stretched and intact, but the same could not be said for her pillow. That had been split open, case and all. She’d have to use one of the spares from the linen closet.

The bulb on the color-changing light was unscrewed and shoved in that same closet. That whole endeavor to restore Ellie’s room had been the longest he’d stayed in the present since the nightmare began.

      I’d like the nightmare to end.

11AM

The doctor stayed long enough to assure Chase the laceration on Stacy’s neck was healing nicely, but they still didn’t know why she wouldn’t wake up. There was nothing unusual in her system, brain scans had come back normal, they didn’t have a clue. Chase wasn’t sure when he started screaming, but there was no stopping once it began.

      “YOU CAN’T CHARGE US A HOSPITAL BILL THAT COST MORE THAN OUR FUCKING HOUSE FOR AN ‘I! DON’T! KNOW!’”

It went on for god knew how long, and the doctor just grimaced and took it. Someone sympathetic and reassuring walked him down to the finance office, sat him down, and he spent a good hour talking with an employee about Stacy’s income, his income, what they could realistically pay, and what they could strong-arm her insurance company into covering. The outcome still hurt, but it was no longer over a hundred thousand dollars.

If she didn’t wake up soon, it wouldn’t matter. That thought had haunted him on the long, roundabout trek back to his wife.

The room where Stacy was kept had been changed. The blood on the door had made it part of the crime scene for the security guard. The news reported some normal person off the street had come in and stabbed the guy, but they didn’t know any better. All of the CCTVs on the affected floors were fried, and the footage was left indecipherable. The eyewitnesses were all in shock, denial, or refusing to come forward. A local and somewhat eccentric investigative reporter named Jim had been prowling the hospital with a cameraman since just after the incident happened, but he’d managed to avoid them so far.

Chase was drained in every sense of the word. Sleep was hit or miss with one or both kids waking up crying every night, or Connor climbing into bed with them and startled him awake. He’d spent every day since the attack propped up on coffee and autopilot, and it was wearing him down. Inch by painful inch. So, when a hospital monitor ticked faster in the background while Chase worked on his laptop, he didn’t notice. Not until a weak hand brushed his arm.

The touch may as well have been lighting for how hard Chase jolted in his seat. His eyes were wide as he captured Stacy’s palm and held it in one hand, the other pushing hair back from her forehead.

      “Stacy!? Stacy, can you hear me!?”

It was slow, painfully slow, but her eyes cracked open, and Chase’s face split into the widest grin of relief when those familiar brown irises stared back at him.

      He’s gone. He’s really gone.

Stacy’s face pinched with pain, and it looked like she was going to speak before he quickly shook his head.

      “You’re still healing, don’t talk yet. You’re in the hospital, the kids are in school, they’re okay.”

Her eyes squeezed shut with a grimace, and she managed a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. The free hand rubbed at the bandages on her throat, and his breath caught when she flinched with pain. Stacy pulled free of his grip and mimed texting with both hands in a silent request for a phone. Chase scrambled at the ledge where her cell had been left charging, and she took the phone with a squint before unsteady fingers began to type. It was a slow process, he knew even autocorrect was struggling to decipher her words in this state, but he waited until she handed it back.

      [I couldn’t stop him]

Chase’s expression broke with hers, and he swiped off his hat so he could bury his face in her shoulder. He’d secretly hoped Stacy wouldn’t remember a damn thing, but she was shaking with tears of her own.

      “I know you tried, baby, I know. I’m so sorry.”

It took a long moment to realize she was trying to type one-handed while holding him with the other, and he withdrew in time for her to press the phone against him again.

      [He didn’t think you could stop him either. Doesn’t know how you did it]

      “Physics? Muscle mass, I don’t know, it’s not like I made a plan! I just-” his breath hitched, and blue eyes vanished, “I couldn’t stand back and let that happen. I had to try.”

Stacy was crying, and it only made the pain in her neck worse. Her hand brushed at the black eye it had left on her husband’s face, but he didn’t let it linger, and wrapped his own fingers around hers.

      “Stace, I… when I disappeared in the woods that day… I didn’t walk home from there. I found an eviction notice on my door, and I lost my fucking mind. I thought… I thought visiting Mom might help. Of course I fucking drank when I got there, but I just… wanted to clear my head. One moment I was there in the woods, and the next I was dumped on the roof of a parking garage. I still don’t know where that even was, I just knew whatever put me there wanted me to jump, and I didn’t. I ran. I just fucking ran and somehow made it back home. I think that was him. I couldn’t tell you the truth because it’s fucking insane, but it makes sense now. I just wish it didn’t.”

She squeezed his hand like a vice, but he still couldn’t meet her gaze. The truth should have been liberating. Instead, it weighed down his shoulders like lead. Chase didn’t fight it when her hand tugged free of his, but he stirred when that phone was pushed against him again. The sheer urgency in her eyes was enough to shake him, and his own drifted to the screen with mounting dread.

      [He looks like YOU]

Time ground to a halt beside the hospital bed. The IV drip seemed to slow, the TV dimmed, and the outside world vanished. Every tether to reality was severed in an instant, and he felt tied to nothing more than the grip on his arm and the words on the screen.

      “…Did-” Chase’s voice was strained, and it stuck in his throat, “did you think he was me…?”

Her tiny, tearful nod took the air from his lungs like a punch to the gut. Whatever this Anti was, it wore his face to get close enough to Stacy to possess her. It had to be a gimmick, an illusion, why the fuck would the worst thing in the void look like the biggest nobody on the other side? What did it want?

      “… He’s gone, now.”

There wasn’t much conviction to be found in that voice, but for Stacy, he tried.

      “He’s gone. And if he’s not, I’ll call a fucking exorcist if I have to. He’s never going to hurt me, you, or the kids-”

Chase faltered, and he barely felt Stacy’s grip and shake his arm. He wouldn’t have heard her if she shouted.

      That bastard can wear your face.

      It’s your job to pick them up from school.

Chapter Text

2PM

Chase didn’t care if he looked like a lunatic, he didn’t care if an administrator or even the fucking cops asked what the hell he was doing. School didn’t let out for another hour, but he was ready. Hell, if it didn’t consume gas, the car would still be on. That shape-shifting son of a bitch was not going to take his kids, not while he still breathed.

      You’re sure he shape-shifts?

A broad hand scrubbed down Chase’s face and his eyes cinched shut. Why the fuck else would it look like him? The demon was the monster the monsters were scared of – Chase was just a depressed, worthless nobody. It could crawl out of computers, it could possess people, it was a sadistic, twisted, horrifying-

      Antithesis of me.

Air caught in his throat as if trapped by an unseen wall, but he forced his eyes to open and focus again on the school’s front entrance. No, Anti couldn’t be some bizarre nightmare reflection of himself, Chase hadn’t done a damn thing in this world to warrant any kind of infamy in another. And yet… and yet…

      The opposite of nobody is somebody.

There was a controlled inhale and exhale in the otherwise silent car. Screaming had somehow started this mess, he couldn’t afford to lose it again. Yet another concept that tore at his own fucking sanity, how could he have let them in? He wasn’t the most miserable son of a bitch in this damn city, let alone the damn planet – why weren’t there monsters everywhere? Why was he the one who opened the doorway to the void, if it could have been anyone? Why couldn’t he shake the fucking guilt that rose when he looked at Stacy’s bandages. When he bypassed the caution-taped hallway where the security guard died. Did he slit her throat? Did he stab that guy?

If he’d just kept his shit together, would Stacy be at work and that guard still alive?

The clock in the car changed to 2:13 as Chase shook his head. By that logic, the landlord who had given him the eviction notice started this. The owner of the conference room who’d given his team a good rate had blood on his hands. Void said Anti was already here before the day Chase had landed on that parking garage, and the only other time he could remember feeling that unhinged was the day Stacy told him she couldn’t do it anymore. The day he’d given up his marriage for a good place to film trick shots. The rest of it had been a fog of dread and a helpless, paralyzing horror that he was the headless man, already dead and still walking to his destination.

Then he’d realized where that destination was.

Chase had never told Stacy. Never told Charlie. Never told his brother, Chandler. Never told Grayson, his cameraman and friend who’d driven him home that day. Never told any of them he’d drifted from their front door to the bedroom the moment he was certain his family was already gone. Gone for a stupid room and stupid trick shots for a channel that would never sustain their family.

      This one’s called: I’m staying at my sister’s this weekend. This one’s called: Fuck you, Chase, I’m leaving you and I’m taking the kids with me. This one’s called: Fuck you, I want a divorce.

His boots had echoed across the fake wood floor, one deliberate step at a time. There was no sweeping the house for memories, no final looks – there had been no time. Chase was already dead, and he needed his body to catch up. Looking back, he wished there had been some kind of hesitation when he’d raised the handgun to his temple, but there wasn’t.

      This one’s called: Stacy, I love you, please don’t go.

Chase knew he’d be dead before the sound of the gunshot reached his ears, but the heavy click against his skull was louder than any bullet could have been. The gun was empty, and that was when he shattered. His life was in ruins, and he couldn’t even kill himself without fucking it up. He threw the gun back in the closet, and he screamed.

If it was high emotion that weakened the veil, Chase could think of no other point in his life that could have done it. Never had he wanted so badly to both be heard and never heard from again.

The problem with that theory… was a glaring one. it had been two years ago. If that had done it, where had Anti been for the past two years? Why would he wait until now to start tormenting him? Especially if this fucker was so bad, Void tried to kill him first?

      This is a puzzle from fucking hell, and I don’t even have all the pieces.

Thoughts churned in his head like a storm for a long while, and continued even as the front doors of the school were propped open and kids began to stream through. Chase had planted himself on the steps with ten minutes to spare and waited. The looks from the staff were ignored, and he held his breath tight in his chest.

It didn’t release until both of his children emerged, the subdued pair a sharp contrast to the excited kids bolting around them. A strange ache twisted his heart as both of them brightened somewhat at the sight of their dad, and he leaned down to pick up Ellie and grab Connor’s hand.

      “Anything exciting happen today? Did Weylon eat bugs again? Does Susie still command the gel pen economy?”

      “Mr. Brody, can I have a word with you in private? Connor and, ah, Ellie- they won’t mind, right?”

Chase’s grip on his kids tightened on instinct, especially when Connor edged closer to his leg at the approach of his teacher. The man was tall, far taller than Chase, and his smile did nothing to reach his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was separate from his kids, least of all for this fuckwaffle.

      “Sorry, sir, but we have to get going. Have a good one.”

      “I have to insist, I have some concerns I want to discuss with-”

      “I said no!”

The man’s eyes widened at the sudden outburst, and the calculations behind them were infuriating. Chase could tell he was doing the math and deciding whatever he thought was wrong with Connor had come from him.

      “Look, the school has my number, call me. We’re leaving, let’s go, bud.”

A reassuring grip tightened around his son’s shoulders as they were steered toward the car. Chase waited until the doors were shut and they were buckled in before shifting in his seat to meet Connor’s gaze.

      “I know he’s just going to tell me you’re not your usual self, and that’s okay. You don’t have to smile and pretend, not for anyone, and definitely not for your stinky teacher, okay?” That earned half a smile, and he was encouraged to continue, “it’s alright if you’re not talking in class, or raising your hand, or playing with the other kids right now. He can call me if he wants, but no matter what he says, you’re not going to be in trouble.”

Connor’s breath hitched and he nodded, the relief splashed across his face. When Chase raised his fist for a bump, it was returned with a shaky smile.

      “That’s my boy. Now look alive, because your mom’s awake, and we’re going to see her right now.”

The collective gasp was everything. It felt like a bubble of hope had enveloped the car, shielding it from the outside world. From the reason it’d been sitting in that spot for an hour. Even the warnings that mommy couldn’t talk yet hadn’t dampened their elation, and the weight lifted from tiny shoulders was contagious.

      You’ve got them, they’re safe. It’s going to be okay.

4PM

The emergency room wasn’t far from where Stacy was now kept, – a necessary detour around the crime scene – but they’d been fortunate enough to miss anything traumatic during their many trips. Chase supposed it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out, especially with the kids in tow. He caught the blood on the person being wheeled in by paramedics before the children did, and he turned them both away as the gurneys prepared to wheel past. Ellie was buried against his chest, and Chase’s hand shielded Connor’s eyes.

      “Don’t look, you guys, you don’t need to see this.”

Eyes could be hidden, ears not so much, and Chase’s prickled as nurses swarmed the scene.

      “What do we got?”

      “Multiple punctures to the chest and exit wounds in the back, victim was impaled by something at least fourteen inches long. Weapon diameter is small-”

Their voices were lost as the gurney was wheeled past and a pair of cops followed in its wake.

      “–found him in an abandoned warehouse. His got a history of debt and drug abuse, but if this was just a matter of him not paying up and someone sending a message, we’ve got a real sadistic asshole on our hands…”

Chase’s eyes slid shut and he fought to keep his breathing even. The cop said it, just a drug deal gone wrong. Or maybe a loan shark, that shit happened…

      “Daddy, your heart is really fast.”

Ellie’s voice against his chest pulled him back to the present, and he hitched her higher in his arms.

      “I’m okay, sweetie. Let’s go see your mom.”

Chapter Text

Both kids ended up in bed with Stacy, which the nurse allowed with a grudging smile and a warning not to strain her throat. Chase’s laptop sat between them so she could communicate a little easier, but Connor and Ellie were happy enough just seeing her awake and lucid. Stacy was still weak, and she winced as if it wasn’t bandages but sandpaper wrapped against her stitches. But she was alert, responding as best she could, holding hands and stroking hair, just trying to convince them both that Mommy was still there.

Crumpled sound asleep in the seat beside the bed was Chase, neck bent at an awkward angle he would later regret. His whole family was safe and within arm’s reach, it was the first time he’d relaxed since Stacy had been possessed. Chase slept through medications, through checkups, and through dinner. Through the hospital becoming quieter. Darker.

      Emptier.

Blue eyes snapped open.

The hospital bed was empty. Worse, the hospital bed was pristine. Stacy hadn’t just gotten up and walked away, she’d been gone. The bed was made and waiting for the next victim. The kids were nowhere to be found, and there was nothing to break the deafening silence beyond those four walls. Nothing to protect them but a blood-splattered door that creaked open on its own, beckoning him outside.

Limbs were slow to respond, but he forced himself upright as the screens on the medical equipment began to glitch and flicker that sickly green. Even the sound of it was becoming horribly familiar, but Chase was not as frightened as he could have been.

      This is a dream. This is definitely a fucking dream.

That didn’t mean indulging this fucker was a good idea. No one needed a front row seat to his subconscious, least of all the shaky monster himself. Chase’s hands raised on autopilot, and his fingers dug harshly into his closed eyes until those familiar and blinding kaleidoscope patterns of green began to swirl across his vision. He wasn’t sure when in his youth he’d discovered the trick, but pressing against his eyes like that would eventually wake him up if he decided a dream was too much. He wasn’t sure whether science supported that, or if he’d just trained his brain to wake him up once the patterns of green behind his eyelids dispersed. Sometimes, if he couldn’t wake from the nightmare he wanted out of, the dream would just change. There had been more than a few times when he’d “woken up” from a bed or couch into a new, gentler scenario, but was still sound asleep in the real world.

      Don’t know what that fucking says about me.

A faint and unhinged giggle answered his thoughts. It echoed somewhere beyond the closed door, and Chase dug his fingers harder against his eyelids. He didn’t want to wake in a softer dream, he wanted to wake up.

      W͢e̛ c͞o̵ưl͢d͢ talk, ̶y͝ou̴ ͏an̴d́ I.̶ ̀J̢us͏t ͞fór a̡ ͜l̷it͜tl͜e͟ w̢h͟ile͟. It̕'͝s̨ just̨ ̵a̛ ́dream ̢after͞ ͠all.̛..͏

      “Shut the fuck up.”

The man was shaking where he stood, trying to focus on the patterns behind his eyes and block out the glitch’s voice as it grew closer.

      L̨òơk̡ at̸ ͡you.̶ Tra̵p̡ped͢ ͝i̡n̛ y̢our̷ s͝ubc͢o͢n̛sc̢i̕ou͢s͘. ͏Wat̵ching̢ t̵h̨e pre͠t̀ty͟ li̵ght͡s͟. ̨N̵oth̴i̕n̶g̕ t͞o ̵ho̕ld o̕ņ ͝to b̡ųt̡ ̷t̕h̛e ͏s̴o̢únd o̢f̡ ̶ḿý ̛voicé. It's l̨ike͝ yo̵u̶ WAN͞T ̡t͜o ͜b̶e c̛on͝t̀roll̴e̢d.̛ ͞

Fear exploded in Chase’s gut and it rippled to his knees, making them buckle while footsteps echoed in his ears. The longer he pressed against his eyes, the higher his chances were to wake up, but now there was a fear that his innermost self was being served on a plate for Anti. He couldn’t see anything but the near-blinding swirls of green that almost seemed to sear into his brain, and he couldn’t hear anything but that broken voice. A voice that sounded like a higher-pitched and twisted version of his own.

The footsteps echoed to a halt an inch from his own shoes. Chase tried to free his eyes to wake up, but an icy hand slammed against the back of his head while the other locked his fingers against his eyes. The man’s heart hammered against his ribcage as he tried to knee and kick the monster away, but it was like trying to hit static. Whatever might have been there dispersed before contact could be made.

      You̢ t͡h͢oug̨ht I ̀w̶as g͏one͢. B͜ut̸ I̶'̴v͢e beeǹ he̵r͞e ͢t̡his ͘e̛n͏t̨i̧ŗe ti̢m͝e̛!

Chase tried to drop his entire weight in an effort to sink out of Anti’s hold, but the demon managed to hang on with a snarl. They were a tangled and glitching mass of limbs, and the hands against his head almost seemed to thrum with frenetic energy.

      No̡t ́yet, pupp͝et.͜ You can̡'t͢ ͞fi̧ght̡ ̵m͡e. T͞he͡ ̡t͠e̕lèpo͏r̨tȩr͝ ca̢n'̧t ̶fįg̸ht ̷me.̡ ́Yo̕u'ŕe bot̷h͘ ̸wea͜k̕. J́us̡t͢ l͞ike ̧th͏e re͜st̕ o͏f ̷t͟hem. But́ ̀may͏be͘ I'm ͡not t͜h͢e͡ o͏ne͠ y̛o͜u͏ ̢s̴h́ou̸ld ̢wor̛ry ̕ab͟out͘.

His wrists were bloodless in the effort to pry his own hands away from his eyes, but Anti’s grip was relentless, and there was nothing he could do but tense as that warped voice leaned right into his ear.

      B̢e̵twee͡n͞ me̕ ánd͜ the̛ ̵te͜l̕e̵p̀òr̢te͠r.͝.̀. ̛wh͜ich ̷of̷ u̢s̨ h͡as̨ ̧ac̛tu̷àlly͢ ki̛llȩd ̸s̕o͞m̕eòn͏e͏?͢ ̷

      W̷ake̛ ̢ųp̵.͞

-----

Blue eyes snapped open.

Ashen skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, but the drone of medical equipment reached his ears. Stacy and the kids were settled on the gurney, watching a movie on his laptop. The door was pristine, not a drop of blood on it. The overhead lights shone as fierce and soul-sucking as they always did.

Chase’s shaking hand scrubbed down his face and he muffled a groan as his neck finally straightened. It took a lot of wincing and contorting to get himself out of that chair, but Stacy’s hand caught his arm as he tried to walk past.

      “I’m just gonna get some coffee, baby, you want some?”

They both unconsciously stilled; he hadn’t called her baby since the breakup. Brown eyes were difficult to read, but she nodded. A finger pointed toward the door and swung with emphasis back toward the bed.

      Get it and come back.

He offered a weary thumbs up before the door was nudged open and shut behind him. The nightmare was slipping through his fingers like water cupped from a lake, and the words sank beneath the surface. All he knew for sure was his neck hurt and his eyes were sore, and he was in the process of rubbing them when a chaotic force lurched into him.

      “Oh, Jim! Jim, this is him! Sir, can we have just a- just a moment of your time-”

Chase reeled back from the microphone shoved in his face by the man he’d collided with, and was not amused to find it was that eccentric reporter.

      “I really don’t have anything to say,” he ventured with caution and tugged his cap back into place. The reporter straightened from the collision only to swerve closer. It was like his spine was made of rubber, and could only hold one shape for so long. More striking still was the fact he was identical to the man behind the camera. Same black hair, same long fringe, same brown eyes, same stubbled jaw, same blue shirt and khakis. The reporter wasn’t at all put off by his apprehension.

      “Any information is worthwhile! I’m Jim, this is Jim, and we’re trying to uncover this INSIDIOUS plot to murder- whoever the hell- DIED- In this god damn hospital. Look!”

Jim tugged Chase by the arm as the other Jim trailed after, and he didn’t stop until they reached the hallway that led to the intensive care unit. The boneless man gestured to the closed doors as if they held all the answers.

      “A man- stabbed- the wounds IDENTICAL to the guard’s. Brought in- just hours ago, from an abandoned warehouse, and WE- have the address! BUT- any- and I mean ANY- information you have- on this insane killer- will be MOST beneficial- for we plan to investigate- the scene of this crime- head on.”

Just the way Jim talked was making Chase’s groggy head spin, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned.

      “… Turn the camera off, and I’ll talk.”

The reporter’s frantic hand waved and cameraman Jim nodded. He hit the power button on the camera and waited in silence with as much anticipation as his brother.

      “… This person is extremely dangerous. They’re fast, and they’re armed, do yourselves a favor and stay away. I think anyone who gets too close is going to end up right back here.”

The Jims only seemed encouraged by this insight, and Chase all but smacked the wandering microphone out of his face.

      “Listen to me, you might be killed. Find a different story.”

      “One- final question, if you don’t mind very much,” reporter Jim wasn’t sure what to do with the microphone now that it wasn’t allowed near Chase, so it swung haphazardly with the rest of his gestures, “would you say this was the work of… demons?”

Chase’s mouth fell open, but reporter Jim didn’t give him another chance to speak.

      “Stop-stop- that’s ALL we needed to know. Come on, Jim. We’ve got work to do…”

He couldn’t help but stare as the Jims left him by the ICU, with his pounding headache and desire for coffee all but forgotten.

Chapter Text

9PM

For once, there was no protest when bedtime came. Stacy was still in the hospital, but the kids knew she was going to be okay, and that was a huge weight off their backs. The only resistance he met was the fact they both still wanted to share Stacy’s bed with him. Chase felt a pang of regret knowing he’d end up back in his rental house once she came home, either the next day or the day after.

      “I think we should all try sleeping in our own beds tonight, okay? I’ll still be upstairs if you guys need me.”

Both of their faces fell a little, and both had gotten big hugs and sent off to change into their pajamas. Maybe it’d be easier when he left again if they had a normal night first. Or maybe he was just making it easier on him.

Chase tucked them both into their separate beds and told them both goodnight, but Connor’s soft voice stopped him as he reached the door.

      “Dad? I think… I have an idea to stop the monster.”

Connor’s face was so urgent, and Chase had all he could do to stop the color from draining from his own. For fuck’s sake, why was he afraid of talking about Anti, it wasn’t like the son of a bitch was in the fucking walls. Logic didn’t stop him from moving back to Connor’s bed, and dropping his voice to a near whisper.

      “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

      “Well…” Connor’s nervous hands fisted in the comforter as he spoke, “the monster came out of the computer. And the lights. What if he needs electricity? What if we shut off the power? What if we had an EMP!”

Chase couldn’t help a slight smile at that.

      “There aren’t enough videos in the world for me to edit to get my hands on an EMP. But… maybe you’re right. He does really like electricity.”

      “Do you think he’s coming back?”

A comforting hand pushed the fringe back from Connor’s forehead, and Chase forced a smile.

      “It’s a big world out there, bud. We’re just four little people. He probably got bored of us, and went to pick on someone his own size.”

      “Like Ellie’s friend?”

      “He’d have more fun fighting Ellie’s friend than fighting me. Your old man’s built for trick shots and Minecraft.”

That earned a giggle, and Connor sat up straighter in bed as eagerness stole over his features.

      “Can you do the handstand backflip!? Please!?”

Chase pulled his hat over his face to muffle his groan as Connor tugged excitedly on his sleeve.

      “Child, WHY, you know how long it’s been? Are you trying to kill me?”

      “Dad, PLEASE, it’s so COOL!”

He heaved a theatrical sigh and threw the adidas hat down on the bed to the tune of Connor’s cheers. There was one spot in the whole room he couldn’t destroy if something went wrong, and his cramped muscles protested before he even began.

      “You’re killing me, Smalls,” he grumbled before bending his knees to test them. In one fluid move, Chase sprung his body backward and landed on his hands.

      “YES! You DID IT! Now STAY that way!”

      “Stay-WHAT-”

The laugh of indignation made him wobble, but he managed to stand on his feet again before falling. His son wasn’t the least bit sorry as Chase swiped his hat off the bed and tugged the comforter back where it should be.

      “Lay down, kid, I’ve had enough of your sabotage.”

Connor giggled and flopped on his side, accepting his fate. A rough hand made a mess of his hair as revenge and left him there.

      “G’night, Dad,” Connor called after Chase’s retreating form.

      “Night, bud.”

Ellie’s nightstand lamp was still on across the hall, and she sat up in bed when Chase walked in. “What happened, Daddy?”

      “Your brother’s mean, that’s what.”

A fit of giggles was his only answer as he pulled the comforter over her, and it made it difficult to tuck her in.

      “Hold still, dammit,” he barked, but not without a smile across his face, “quit laughing at me.”

      “I can’t HELP it, it’s funny.”

It turned into a competition then, and it ended with her wrapped like a present in a ball of blankets. Her shrieking laughs were muffled by the fabric as Chase buried her alive. He waited until Ellie was good and trapped before he skittered out of the room with a “Goodnight, sweetie! Daddy loves you!”

Chase wasn’t sure how long it took her to disentangle herself, but he knew it would at least wear her out. No more sound came from either room, and Chase returned to the couch to watch some mindless TV.

      Things will go back to normal for them. They’re going to be okay.

1AM

Chase never made it to Stacy’s bed.

Of all things, a let’s play of a horror game had knocked him out against the couch cushions. Something about a teenager lost in the woods with camera angles that reminded him of Silent Hill. It hadn’t been enough to keep him awake. The living room light was still blazing, the tv screen was dimmed but still set on the video suggestions it had offered to him hours ago. The hat sat vigil beside him on the couch, aimed at the TV as if it was still watching. The only sound in the room was Chase’s steady breathing.

Until the light flickered.

It was faint at first, just a hum of interrupted electricity that caused the glow to waver. As it fought to stay lit, a line of static slid from the bottom of the TV screen to the top. Then another. And another. And another. The colors began to separate, bleeding red, green and blue as the picture began to glitch. Those same colors cascaded over Chase’s sleeping form, unaware of the warning. It wasn’t until the light flared bright and the static swelled in volume that those his eyes finally opened.

Sluggish limbs lurched as if they’d been shocked, and he damn near crashed to the floor under the crushing instinct to run. Grab the kids and RUN. There was no taunting voice, no laughter in his ears, but there didn’t need to be. The screeching television was more than enough to fill him with fear.

      What if he needs electricity? What if we shut off the power?

Somehow, Connor’s voice cut through the terror like a knife. Chase threw himself instead toward the laundry room, where the circuit box lived. A pile of dirty clothes caught his foot and pitched him forward, and he practically crawled in his urgency to reach the breakers. Frantic hands damn near tore the panel clean off before tripping every last one, one heavy click at a time, until the living room light faded, the TV snapped off, and Chase was left panting in the darkness. The only sound in his ears was the pounding of his own heart.

Chase’s movements were measured when he straightened. His hand fumbled against the shelf of candles Stacy kept in there, in search of the lighter she kept near them. It took several tries with a shaking hand to illuminate the room, and that hand trembled so bad he had to light it twice. For a moment, there was silence.

Connor and Ellie screamed.

Chase felt his own blood congeal in his veins as their terror filled his ears, but it was like wading through water. He wanted to sprint, to holler that he was here, he was coming, but no sound left his throat. His numb legs would only move one tentative step at a time. His free hand brushed the walls for guidance. The air was thick and resistant – every movement felt like pushing against something twice his size. Shadows flickered and crawled from the wavering flame of his lighter. All while his children shrieked and sobbed in terror.

His body trembled as it finally reached Connor’s room, but the sheets were empty. Tugged back and hanging limp over the side of the mattress. A lifetime later, Ellie’s was shown to be just the same. Yet, their cries still echoed in his ears, from above him now, and he made the impossible trek up the carpeted stairs. Unintelligible whispers pressed in from every direction, both disorienting and invasive, and they threatened to muffle Connor and Ellie’s panicked voices. Climbing Everest would have felt easier than willing his leaden legs to drag him up each creaking step. Years passed before Chase turned the corner at the top, and the world fell silent as a familiar red light spilled down the hallway.

There was a man silhouetted in the doorway. If Chase hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed there was a mirror himself, but the direction was wrong. His own back faced him in the darkness, and his own head began to turn.

      “Who’s there?”

Chase blurted the question he already knew. Anti’s face, his face, turned to meet him in the bloody glow of Ellie’s color-changing light. He hadn’t wanted to believe Anti was his double, his nightmare mirror, but the proof was standing at the end of his own hallway. Chase didn’t breathe until the demon’s right eye blazed a blinding green, and it smiled.

      “WHERE ARE THEY!?” Chase screamed, finding his voice at last, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?”

The demon glitched and lurched down the hall, and his head tossed just as Stacy’s had. Jerking, twisting, tethered to something violent. Eyes black as pitch bored into Chase’s, and it was the last conscious thought in his mind before it all faded into dark silence.

-----

The world was bright again when Chase managed to stir from the hallway floor. The carpet beneath his temple was warm and sticky, and the scent of copper filled his nose. Peeling himself away from it was a chore, and unsteady hands lifted to inspect the small circle cut into his skin.

      Like a bullet hole.

Air caught like a vice in his lungs, and his gaze wrenched toward the empty doorway. The red light was gone, Anti was gone, but it brought him no comfort. Chase lurched to his feet and threw himself down the stairs two at a time.

      “CONNOR!? ELLIE!?”

Blood smeared against the white door frame of Ellie’s room, and then Connor’s. Both were empty, like they’d never contained his children. Chase turned circles in the hallway as if stuck in a loop, and bloodied hands twisted into his hair tight enough to pull some out. Trails of blood slid down his cheek from the gunshot carved into his face.

      Anti has my kids.

Chapter Text

Chase thought he understood pain. Nothing could have prepared him for what felt like breathing through a funnel while his chest was crushed, one unforgiving centimeter at a time. Grief could physically hurt, something about the brain assuming there’s an internal injury where pain receptors aren’t sophisticated. Or maybe that was just bullshit he read online.

There was no answer in his empty house. There was no answer in Stacy’s horrified face. There was no answer in the fake bullet wound carved into his temple that never seemed to stop bleeding. There was no answer in the interrogation room at the police station. The cops couldn’t help him, no one could. Yet it felt like the only thing he could do, even if he was their only suspect. The one thought that kept him sane was the fact his kids were alive. They had to be alive. Anti liked to play with his food, he would want Chase to know when he was done with them.

It was a race against the clock, but he couldn’t know how much time was left. Not when time itself was a blur of color and sound. It hurtled like a rocket. It crawled like a glacier. Hours felt like seconds, minutes felt like lifetimes. There was no sense in it.

      10:15. 10:16. 2:59. 7:17. 11:11.

      “Make a wish.”

His mumbled voice was lost in the bar as Chase turned his watch away. Aching shoulders were hunched over the counter, his hand loose around his drink. He would have given anything to just buy a case of something cheap and get drunk at home, but he couldn’t stand to be in that empty house a moment longer. Somehow the idea of going back to his own rental home felt even worse. So, there he sat, alone, while the bartender kept an eye on him but said nothing. He wasn’t causing problems, or even that visibly drunk, and there were other customers to focus on.

The skin on the back of Chase’s neck tingled, and it worsened when his sunken eyes lifted toward the window. Across the street was a man standing on the sidewalk at the bus stop, silhouetted against the street lights. Chase made out a long coat and crossed arms, but it looked like there was some kind of fabric wrapped around his head. Like bandages.

Sound in the bar dimmed the longer Chase looked, trying to shake the feeling that despite the busy bar and people in the way, the bandaged man was staring right at him. Right though him. Even the alcohol was losing its edge as he squinted.

Like the switch of a light, sound returned to his ears at full volume, and Chase jumped in his seat at the thud of a glass against the counter beside him. A tall man settled into the stool next to his, smile easy and warm, though his brows were pinched with concern.

      “Don’t take this the wrong way, pal, but you don’t look so good.”

Chase turned back toward the window, but the bus stop was empty. The figure was gone.

      “… Isn’t this the place to go when you feel like shit?” Chase asked, and it was a genuine effort to pull his gaze to the stranger instead, “here I thought I had the right fucking idea.”

The man chuckled with a raise of his glass and then finished it. His eyes were a striking bottle green beneath short golden-brown hair. Between his looks and the flannel shirt, he could have walked out of a casual lumberjack photoshoot and into the bar.

      “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to call you a cab?”

The offer gave him pause, because fuck if he didn’t want another human being to talk to. Stacy just couldn’t, and until last night, he had to be strong for his kids. Chase’s own emotions were trapped in a vacuum with a story no one would believe. Before he could think better of it, his lips were moving.

      “… My kids are missing. Someone’s been… stalking us. Last night he broke in, attacked me and took them right out of their fucking beds.”

The stranger was still as death, and Chase could feel his eyes tracing over the bandages against his temple.

      “I… don’t know what to say to that, but holy shit. I’m really sorry.”

Chase gave his own glass a bitter flourish and drained it, but the words caught in his throat before he could ask for another, stifled by the warm hand against his arm.

      “Switch to water, and I’ll keep listening. Otherwise, I’m going to have to call you that cab. We can start easy, my name’s Hunter. What’s yours?”

      “… Chase.”

12AM

It had taken some genuine effort, but Chase had relented as much as he could without sounding insane. Or at least enough that Hunter might have blamed any outliers on the alcohol. He had been sympathetic, he hadn’t judged, and Chase felt better than he had since before the attack.

The car was at the hospital, Chase had left it there and walked to the bar. He had sobered enough to drive, he told himself as Hunter walked him to his car. His new friend waved him off when he said he didn’t have the money to call another cab in the morning to get back to it, and now he was deftly slipping the keys out of Chase’s hand.

      “I NEED those, dammit-”

      “Give me your address, I’ll call a cab from your place. At this rate you’re gonna end up in the hospital with your ex and a DUI.”

Alarm bells should have rung, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, and he rattled off his rental home’s address without question. Hunter pushed the driver seat back, called ahead for a cab, and barely spoke a word until they reached his street. The cab was already waiting, but Hunter took the time to get him to the door before handing him his keys and a slip of paper.

      “Take care of yourself, man. I mean it.”

      “Thanks… thanks.”

Hunter was gone by the time Chase managed to get the door locked behind him. The piece of paper in his hands turned out to be a phone number, and a scrawled note.

      Call me if you want someone to talk to. Or if you wanna forget your own name in a way that won’t destroy your fucking liver.

      Hunter

A faint smile tugged at Chase’s lips, and he tucked the note in his wallet. Maybe if he killed his sadistic demon twin who was holding his children hostage, and Stacy recovered from slitting her own throat, he could do normal shit like call a good-looking guy from the bar.

If he actually lived through this fucking nightmare. Chase honestly doubted he would, at this point. Not alone.

      We’re just four little people. He probably got bored of us, and went to pick on someone his own size.

      Like Ellie’s friend?

Chase’s back hit the wall under the weight of realization.

      He’d have more fun fighting Ellie’s friend than fighting me.

It was the longest of shots to believe there was a chance Void could be recruited to fight, but fuck. FUCK, even if they just had an idea where the bastard might be. Chase was desperate enough to walk into anything if it meant a chance to see his kids again. Even if Void killed him for his efforts, at least he could say he tried.

Those thoughts circled one another as he collapsed into bed with a ghost of a plan in mind.

8AM

Despite the alcohol, Chase had slept fitfully and given up long before his alarm went off. He was back in Stacy’s house, running on nothing but nerves and coffee, and hunched over Ellie’s tea party table. Was it the correct way to summon his choice of demon, probably not. But it was the only way he’d seen it done so far. The table was set, the chairs were arranged, the arcane magic tea was poured, and Kevin the Pikachu, Chase the human, Gerald the T-Rex, and Queen Sting Ray were all seated in their proper places. A poured cup and an empty seat waited for Ellie’s once-imaginary friend.

      “Do I have to say a few words, I don’t know how this works.”

Chase’s voice was nothing short of haggard from stress and lack of sleep, but it found no answer in the crushing silence around him. He sucked in a breath and tried again.

      “Look, I am fucking desperate. Even if you just have an idea where the fuck they are, I’ll take it! I let you in here, whether I wanted to or not, the least you can do is send me a fucking text or something!”

The air felt thick in his lungs, but it kept him from screaming. The hands that gripped the table were paper-white and the plastic groaned from the effort. The room was as silent as it had been when he arrived. It was all just a waste of time.

Chase turned his back without another word and left for the hospital.

      I’m sorry. Daddy’s trying. I promise he’s trying to find you…

Even his inner voice sounded weak. The words were brittle and they crumpled between the car and the emergency room entrance. An unnecessary habit now, the hallway where the guard had died was no longer roped off by caution tape. Chase hadn’t been present enough to think about using the closer entrance. The nurses recognized him and offered vague smiles and waves, which he halfheartedly returned while they went back to their gossip.

      “I can’t believe what happened to those reporters. Stabbed clean through the chest like a damn sword. I can’t imagine who the hell they pissed off so bad.”

      “The younger one is still in ICU, but they just managed to move the older one to a different ward. He may end up back there, honestly…”

Chase managed to keep walking, but his vision and hearing tunneled with a surge of dread. Before his brain could catch up, he was walking back to the nurses’ desk with a plastered face of calm.

      “Hi, sorry to interrupt, what’s Jim’s room number? I think I’ll get him a card or something.”

      “801, and you might want to go now. He’s got the biggest family I’ve ever seen, and I think they’re between visits. Good luck.”

Chase almost sprinted to the elevator and past the crowd of visitors and staff that milled through the halls. It wasn’t until he reached room 801 that he skidded to a halt and gently opened the door.

Jim’s room was dark from the drawn curtains, but it did not hide how beaten he was. Brown eyes were heavily shut and there was a tube down his throat that flickered in time with the heart monitor beside him. Blood was dripping slow into his vein from an IV and his chest was damn near buried in bandages. The sheet pale, inert body was a harsh contrast to the energetic man who had run into him not so long ago. Guilt stirred in Chase’s chest as he shut the door behind him, but he’d warned the man not to go. He’d warned him not to investigate. He and his brother were damn lucky to be alive.

      “Jim…?” Chase tentatively rubbed his arm to wake him, “Jim, I need to talk to y-”

Brown eyes snapped open and Jim lurched, but Chase’s hands reached out on instinct and caught his shoulders to hold him down. There was no real strength in the reporter’s body.

      “You’re okay, you’re okay! You’re in the hospital. My name is Chase, you interviewed me.”

He couldn’t speak with the tube, and Chase could tell he was trying not to cough as a spastic hand reached out and latched onto a small dry erase board and marker on the table beside him. Chase winced at the noise of genuine distress when the marker clattered to the floor, but it was rescued and pressed into waiting fingers. Despite how long Jim spent writing, there was a single word on the board when he turned it around.

      BROTHER

      “Still in ICU. He’s alive as of five minutes ago, that’s all I know.”

Jim sank back into the pillow with relief, but Chase shifted closer and his voice lowered.

      “Do you remember what attacked you?”

There was a long pause while Jim blinked the glaze out of his eyes and scribbled again.

      DEMON
      RED
      SHIFTY
      STABBY

As bad as he felt for the man’s situation, he couldn’t help the hope that bubbled in his chest.

      “Do you remember the address?”

Jim’s eyes went wide, and Chase had to help him erase what was already there so he had room to write.

      KILL YOU

Chase shook his head and erased the broken phrase with urgency.

      “I don’t care, I need it. There’s more than one demon, the other has my kids. This one has to know something, they’re the only lead I have. I’m begging you.”

Silence fell heavy, and the marker shook in Jim’s hand. For a long moment, it wavered on the edge of being put down, but the squeak of felt was heard once more.

      1607 BERLIN HEIGHTS

      PLEASE LIVE

A shudder of relief rolled through Chase’s entire body, and he nodded.

      “… I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

10AM

      1607 Berlin Heights. 1607 Berlin Heights. 1607 Berlin Heights.

It was a mantra that ricocheted against his skull over and over. It was etched behind his eyelids when he blinked. It was written on every sign and scrap of paper until his vision cleared.

     1607 Berlin Heights.  

Chase’s hands had been paper white against the steering wheel when he left the hospital, desperate to turn left and go to the warehouse now. It had been a genuine fight to turn right and drive himself back to the sad rental house he called home.

What a strange time to rediscover his ramshackle sense of self-preservation. When he was about to stare down an Eldritch horror and ask it to fight another.

A strange arsenal was compiled on the kitchen table as Chase tore through the house, and one haphazard toss after another added to the stash. His gun. A pair of metal cookie sheets. A taser. A pathetic stack of money. Ramen noodles. Water bottles. The heirloom pocket watch that was worth a decent amount, even if it was broken. Kitchen knives. His longest hoodie. A belt. Steel-toed shoes. Work gloves. A screwdriver. A flashlight. Zip ties. A container of salt.

Anything that might give his human body a chance against fucking interdimensional demons.

It was awkward, but the cookie sheets were shoved inside the hoodie, fixed over his chest and back before the fabric was tucked into his pants and belted tight. Chase hadn’t gotten a good look at the hospital guard who died, but it seemed Void had just aimed for center mass with Jim. There was no guarantee it would even slow the needles down, let alone save his life, but it would do more than his cotton t-shirt.

      Worst case, Void attacks me. Best case, maybe a bribe to help.

Problem was, Chase had no idea what Void might want from him. Just as he didn’t know what Anti wanted from him. The demon was new to this world – alone at its mercy. Maybe food and water were an issue. Maybe money would do the trick… or maybe Void didn’t give a shit about him or his kids, one way or another. Maybe he’d die in 1607 Berlin Heights no matter what.

      Maybe Void and Anti came to an agreement. Maybe I’ll wind up delivered to the glitch like a god damn present.

No, this was his only lead, his only shot. The police weren’t going to find Connor and Ellie until Anti was done with them, and Chase would not, could not bury his children. It wasn’t their fault this happened, it was his. All of it, his.

The dufflebag was torn from his closet and thrown over the table with everything else. Weapons were concealed as best they could be in jeans, a hoodie and a jacket. How ironic it was that the leather one would have been perfect. His offerings were shoved inside, and Chase almost made it to the front door before he felt something warm slide down his cheek.

The bandage over the fake bullet wound still carved into his temple was soaked in blood.

      I moved too much getting this shit, that’s all.

The voice of logic in the back of his mind was strong, but it didn’t shake the unease in his gut as he peeled back the sodden fabric and watched blots of red drip over the porcelain sink. It didn’t feel like overexertion, it felt like a warning. A threat that the nightmare was real, and it would get so much worse.

Instinctively, his fingers raised to his eyes to press against them. To wake him up.

      T͞h̶a̴t's ́rįght̴, ̢puṕpe͏t. W̧a͢tch̸ th͟e ͟p̵r͢e̶t͜t̕y lįght̷s̵.͡ ̡I͜t̶'̀ş ̶all̨ ju͢st͡ ̧a̷ d̀ream͟.

Chase’s hands hesitated and dropped. He couldn’t imagine why his mind would distort his own voice so badly, but it was jarring enough to give him pause.

      You’re awake, but you’re losing it.

The thought was pushed aside while he cleaned the bleeding wound with antiseptic and bandaged it once more. It was difficult for Chase to recognize the hollowed-out bastard in the mirror, sheet pale aside from the bags under his eyes. Tufts of hair stuck out from the bandages he’d wrapped around his head, and his frame was bulkier from the cookie sheets stuffed beneath his clothes. Despite all the precautions, he looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a decade and could be killed with one punch. It  could have been the last time he’d ever look at his own reflection.

Should he do a last tour around the house? Was there anything in it worth a final glance? He could only think of one, and it was in the wallet already being dug from his back pocket. One small photo, right in front. Ellie was still a baby, passed out in Stacy’s arms. She was sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket while Connor, still a toddler then, played with his basket of toys beside them. Stacy was laughing, and the sun lit them all up like gold.

Chase wasn’t in the picture. He’d been the one to take it. Even if this went south for him, but it saved the kids? They would be fine. The three of them would be fine without him.

      They would be okay.

12PM

Time never seemed as relentless as it did in the minutes and hours that his children spent missing. Chase never felt as naked as he did driving onto an unfamiliar blighted street downtown with no phone. While hacking a phone still had privacy issues, there was nothing to protect data like GPS. A friend of his had gone on a rant once about metadata, and how it was far less of a red flag to leave your phone in a familiar place than to turn it off while you did something stupid. Nobody turns off their phones anymore.

So his iPhone was powered on and in his room, on the nightstand beside his bed, as if he’d gone home and crashed. As tired as he was, sleep sounded like heaven.

      1607 Berlin Heights.

The address he’d found on his computer, not his phone, and the directions were written out and resting over the dufflebag in the passenger seat. Every traffic law and speed limit was obeyed down to the letter, because if he was pulled over like this? He’d be charged faster than his head could spin. The whole charade felt like something he should have done in the middle of the night, but the district was damn near empty, and if he had to wait until nightfall he’d scream.

      Screaming got you into this mess, Brody.

By fuck, he’d let more things into this world if they might help him. Whether or not the one he’d tracked would be willing to help him remained to be seen.

Chase felt dread coil tight in his gut as the car rolled to a stop in an alley beside the rusted warehouse. The bag was slung over a shoulder, but he waited until the screeching corrugated metal door was shut behind him before drawing his handgun. It stayed lowered but ready as he slowly inched into the broken shafts of light that shone from the shattered windows. Further down the hall was nothing but darkness, and his steel toes crunched over shards of glass and dirt.

      “I’m armed, but I didn’t come here to fight,” Chase’s voice echoed in the empty expanse, and his eyes darted to every corner. “This is about my kids. You like my daughter, Ellie. She invited you to tea party. She likes you, too. She… he took her. And my son.”

There was a whisper of movement in the darkness, and the gun snapped up on instinct, but his finger stayed off the trigger.

      “If you don’t want to fight him, I understand. I don’t want to fight him, either. I’ve got stuff I can trade if you have any idea where he might be hiding my kids. I just want to find them, that’s all.”

Slowly, his left hand pushed open a door to the left, and he blinked at the sight inside. There were tracks in the dirt, as if it were frequently used, but it was the shelves that caught his eye. Small objects were lined, one by one, but they all seemed to be broken. Chase’s gaze trailed across a red Christmas ornament with a shard missing, hanging from the shelf above it. A glazed coffee mug that the handle had broken off of, leaving sharp nubs behind. A cheap phone that was still powered on, but the cracked screen glitched and flashed at random. A spatula with half a handle. A flash drive missing its casing that otherwise looked fine.

      “What the hell…?”

Every object he saw was broken, but still functional. Nothing on the shelf was whole, but none of it was useless. Not a damn thing had gathered dust either, not enough to blend in with the decay around them.

His grip on the gun tightened and he retreated. There was another large room further down the hall, which had begun to lighten from the broken windows that lined it. Step by careful step he drifted forward, and the cookie sheets beneath his clothes shifted uncomfortably. Even with the t-shirt between the metal and his skin, he was being roasted alive, and it was the bandages around his forehead that kept sweat from trickling down his face.

     “Please, I just wanna talk. I really don’t wanna fight, and I really don’t wanna die.”

The walls fell away beside him, and Chase’s eyes widened at the dried blood caked to the middle of the cement floor. It was old, brown and flaking, but he would have bet money it belonged to one of the Jims. The tension was unbearable, and his voice burst with sudden volume.

      “I don’t want to do this, Void, just get out here-!”

The words were lost to a vibrating tear in reality, and it opened in a billow of crimson smoke above Chase’s head. He barely had time for a defensive raise of his hands before the demon’s boots connected to his shoulder and chest, and the cookie sheet over his back hit the ground with a resounding clang that echoed in through the warehouse.

Red mirrored aviator goggles reflected his own stricken face, white with the pain of the impact. Void’s head tilted with assessment, and his own eyes trailed down to the morgue syringes that had been warped into something else entirely. The pair of needles were no longer held in each hand, but fastened to leather around their forearms, leaving their hands free. The metal looked darker, stronger, and the vials were filled with a glowing red substance he didn’t even want to guess at.

It was like Void had taken the instruments from his world, and swapped them with their nightmare versions across the veil.

His breath hitched and his head turned away as a massive needle traced the bandage over his temple. Chase winced as a boot crushed down with interest on the cookie sheet that protected his chest. The boot moved to his wrist, and a pale hand reached down to take the handgun from his grasp.

      “Please-” Chase wheezed, his free hand grasping the handle of a concealed knife instead. “you don’t want to kill me. You didn’t even kill the reporters.”

Void stilled in the midst of inspecting the handgun, and he was left to imagine those black eyes narrowing behind the goggles.

      “They lived.”

The bewildered statement hung in the air, and Chase shifted from where he was pinned.

      “The ambulance got them to the hospital in time. The doctors saved them.”

      “The what.”

Mirrored confusion stilled his efforts, and his own eyes narrowed in return.

      “Doctors. Healers. People who fix broken people.”

The air thrummed with energy, and Chase knew what he’d said was wrong. A yelp of pain was torn from his throat when Void hunkered down and sprang backwards in a flip that vanished in mid-air. The gun had clattered to the concrete and he scrambled for it, waiting for that tearing noise to manifest over him again.

      “THEY DON’T NEED TO BE FIXED.”

The demon’s voice was layered and seemed to emanate from the very walls. Chase dragged himself to his feet only to be slammed against a row of rusted lockers on the far side of the room. The cookie sheet stopped him from being impaled on twisted metal, but the impact still stole the air from his lungs.

      “I’m not- I’m not a doctor,” Chase gasped, curled into himself on all fours as those boots thudded closer, “I just want information on my kids. I just want to see my kids again. Please, anything in that bag is yours if you tell me what you know.”

Void’s outline still shimmered an agitated red, as if they were on the verge of teleporting. They must have favored their reflexes over Chase’s aim, because the gun was ignored while pale hands unzipped the duffle, careful not to impale the fabric with the fastened trocars. The ramen was only met with confusion and a curious smell, but it was set aside. The water was taken. The few bills of money he could scrounge up earned a searching glance he couldn’t read behind those goggles before it was dropped back into the bag. The salt was picked up and dropped again. True interest wasn’t shown until gray hands lifted the chain of the pocket watch and reeled it in.

Their head tilted as they turned the metal over in their hands and watched it tick. The clock itself still worked, but there was a harsh crack in the glass that left it almost impossible to read the time. Void swiped a thumb over its marred surface before stuffing it into the pocket of his leather coat. The entity straightened and grabbed the bundled package of ramen.

      “Get up,” they ordered, and pointed toward the bottles of water, “bring those.”

Chase scrambled to shove the bottles back into the bag and sling it over a shoulder before limping after Void into the darkness.

      “Does this mean you know where they-” Chase flinched as the entity turned on the spot and blocked him from moving further.

      “When he’s here, you respect the man with no eyes. I promise you, he will hear and see if you don’t. I will hear and see if you don’t.”

All that was managed was a tight nod.

      “I’m not here to disrespect anyone but the bastard who took my kids.”

There was a mirthless smile as a hand reached out and teleported the lock from the nearest door with a flash of red. Perhaps it had no key at all because Void didn’t need it to.

      “Or, you could try a little gratitude.”

Chase’s mouth dropped in protest, but the words died in his throat as the door opened. It was another expansive room, lit by high windows, and the light fell over two small, sleeping bodies, curled against each other in a ragged pile of blankets.

Chapter Text

1PM

Steel toed boots thundered against concrete and Chase crashed to his knees beside his unmoving children. A sob was torn from his throat and frantic, desperate arms pulled Connor and Ellie against him. They were pale as death, their faces warped through the tears in his eyes, and he folded almost double over his son and daughter. As if to shield them from the world with his own body.

      “Oh my god, I’m here, kids, Daddy’s here, wake up!” Both of his children were limp in his hold, and it felt like there were shards of glass in his lungs with every moment they didn’t stir. He dug shaking fingers into their necks to feel for a pulse, terrified what might happen to his own if he couldn’t find one.

      “PLEASE wake up, don’t do this, don’t do this to me…”

It was slow, and it was weak… but a pulse was found in both their necks. They hardly seemed to breathe, even without Chase crushing them close. Movement wrenched his gaze, and he watched Void lift the bag and walk past the broken family.

      “What’s WRONG with them!?” Chase’s voice echoed off the walls, but the entity didn’t flinch.

      “They’re not hurt.”

      “They’re not FINE, either! LOOK AT THEM!”

A water bottle was withdrawn from the bag before Void finally turned that goggled gaze back to Chase. The red mirrored lenses reflected his own ashen face and bloodshot eyes.

      “I didn’t know what to do with them. It was better this way.”

      “HOW IS THIS BETTER!? THEY’RE IN A FUCKING COMA!”

Void’s gaze didn’t leave his face as they uncapped the water and drank to the tune of Chase’s heaving. He was fighting not only frustration but fatigue. The impending vacuum that would be left in the wake of the adrenaline that had propped him up against the night’s sleep he didn’t get. Chase’s grip was still tight around Connor and Ellie, but the demon wavered in his vision.

      “I said they’re not hurt. They’re also not crying. Or starving. I don’t know what they need, and now they don’t need anything.”

His eyes slid shut against the sting of fear and anger. Even his children’s skin felt cold to the touch, but he didn’t dare let them go. Void’s gaze was burning a hole through the top of his head, and it wouldn’t have to drill far to find just how hollow he was inside.

      “Please tell me what this is. What was done to them?” Chase’s voice was low and grating in the stagnant air, and silence closed in around it.

      “… They’re… paused. Like the page between chapters.”

      “Can you un-pause them?”

      “No. I’m not the one who did this.”

Chase paled, and his grip tightened even further if that was possible. In that combined terror and relief, it was easy to forget who the real suspect had been.

      “… Was it Anti?”

      “No.”

Void’s voice was a shade softer, and Chase let out a shaking exhale. The only sound was the faint crackle of plastic and slosh of water.

      “Can it be reversed?”

      “Yes. Just not by me. That’s not my area.”

A trembling hand pushed Ellie’s hair back from her pallid forehead, and he gingerly straightened until he was at least sitting with both kids in his arms. They were slumped against him like sacks of meat, lifeless and heavy, and it was a fight to keep tears from streaming down his face. Focus, he thought, bringing his gaze back up to his kid’s mysterious savior, this might be the only chance to get some answers.

      “… Why did you take them? You- you ran from the glitch twice, why did you get in his way?”

The silence was deafening, but short-lived.

      “Ellie was… nice. They weren’t scared.”

      “She,” Chase interjected, “Ellie is a she. Connor is a he. Ellie uses “they” for everyone, but it’s not always the case.

       “… ‘They’ seems fine enough.”

He only sighed. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t worth arguing about. There were important questions, shit that mattered, but only the mundane could be pulled from his reeling mind.

      “She said she gave you my jacket because you don’t like the air. What the fuck does that mean?”

      “The air in the void doesn’t move. It’s like this,” their gaze lifted to the room around them, “still. Empty.”

      Yeah, I can imagine wind would be scary for the monsters who live in caves.

It was a thought he didn’t dare voice aloud. He wondered if Anti had the same aversion, of if he’d gotten used to it during his time in the human world. It wasn’t a hunch anymore that the glitch demon had been there for years, not when he’d taken the time to carve the would-be bullet hole in Chase’s temple.

      “I’m… pretty fucking sure I opened the doorway to Anti two years ago. Why would he come out of hiding now, and why is he after you?”

      “Do you think he’s the type that likes competition.”

Chase’s breath caught at the acid that dripped from the demon’s words. It didn’t answer the question as to why he didn’t show himself sooner, but the rest made a disturbing amount of sense.

      “Is that why he wants me dead? So I can’t let anything else in? Because I would really fucking love it if I didn’t have this power.” Void’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “We don’t exactly talk. But I’d say it’s a motive.”

      “Why doesn’t he just kill me, then!?” Chase sputtered, his voice cracking against the walls. “I’m fucking useless! I can’t stop him, I don’t even know where to look, why is he going after my wife and kids!? Why is he dragging this out!?”

      “I don’t know how his mind works. He plays with his food, I stay out of his way. How many times have you faced him?”

That question gave him pause, and his mouth opened and shut as he struggled for an answer.

      “I… I don’t know. I think I’ve dreamed about him. The night you were in my living room, and the night I thought he took my kids, I blacked out. And I lost bits and pieces. Every time he’s in arm’s reach, the next thing I know, I’m waking up. Is that him messing with my brain?”

      “He controls technology. Electricity. The human body is just a network of pulses and signals. He knows which ones to turn off.”

Chase’s eyes narrowed, but his veins filled with ice. If that was true, and Anti could have his own brain tell itself to fall unconscious… what sort of chance did he have? Did any of them have?

      “How is that possible to do without making someone brain dead? Wouldn’t that take a really fucking delicate touch?”

      “You think he’s been delicate with you?”

That earned an acknowledging tilt of the man’s head. Chase was missing chunks of time, and now he had to worry about the bastard in his sleep as well. Chase’s eyes drifted down to Connor and Ellie, and he hoped they weren’t suffering nightmares of their own.

      “Void isn’t your real name, is it?”

      “You don’t need my name.”

      “Can we leave?”

      “If you don’t want them to wake up.”

Chase winced and carefully climbed to his feet with both of his children. The demon watched as he moved to the far wall and slid down, so his back would have some support while he held them.

      Guess I live here, now.

9PM

Voices drifted unheard through Chase’s ears, and tugged him from the comforting abyss. His head shifted as the words grew louder and more distinct, and his arms tightened around Connor and Ellie. Even hours later, they hadn’t moved.

      “… to steal these from somewhere closer than the hospital. Those people are not my biggest fans.”

      “It is difficult to imagine a scenario in which Void impales a guard and earns the support of the hospital employees.”

      “Don’t get moral on me. Or you can narrate your own damn bandages. You should be narrating your own damn bandages, why am I out here breaking into shit?”

      “The Host faintly smiles as he fails to miss the note of gruff affection in Void’s words.”

      “Can you not.”

The whisper of fabric drifted through Chase’s ears, and the room swam into focus. In the darkness, he could just make out a man sitting with his back to the family. Void was wrapping a trail of bandages around his head, covering his eyes in the process. A process that ended when the man’s bandaged gaze snapped around to stare right at him.

      “Chase Brody wakes with slight alarm at the presence of a stranger, only to be startled by the fact that the stranger is clearly blind, yet can see him. He pulls his children tighter to his chest and looks to Void for guidance.”

It was impossible to keep his gaze from wrenching to a face still barely familiar, but even that was startling. The red goggles were gone, and they left only the pitch black that consumed the whole of Void’s eyes. Instead of offering that guidance, a hand lightly touched the cheek that was turned away.

      “I’m not done yet, look at me.”

Their voice was softer than Chase had ever heard it, and the man complied. He could discern a trench coat and caught a glimpse of a gold streak in his black hair as it was brushed back from his forehead. Tangled on the floor was a mess of blood-soaked bandages. Many blood-soaked bandages. The rest were dried and cracked, but the latest were sodden.

      “As Void finishes dressing the fresh bandages, Chase grows concerned over the pile of discarded bandages beside them. The Host informs him his injury was not caused by anyone in this room, or the entity he fears.”

Chase couldn’t help but wince as the man stood. He found himself afraid to so much as think too loud in that general direction. He didn’t feel… threatened by the narrator, but he felt… exposed. Almost naked. Chase wasn’t convinced there were actual eyes beneath those bandages, but it was becoming apparent the man saw more than he ever could.

      “The Host senses Chase has questions. He will do his best to answer.”

      “… Are you from the void, too?”

That bandaged head tilted, but it slowly shook.

      “The Host is from a place much further than the void. His being here is not a result of Chase Brody’s actions.”

      “Did you put my kids in stasis?”

Chase’s voice was little more than a whisper, and blue eyes watched as the Host sank into a kneel beside the Brodys.

      “He did as a matter of safety. The Host and Void are not equipped to care for children as they assess how best to address the situation with Anti. Unless Chase knows of a safer place to hide them where they can receive required care, the Host suggests they remain in this state.”

His face broke, and his chin dipped like that would hide it. Chase wanted his kids to wake up – the terrified screams from their bedrooms still echoed in his ears. More than anything, he wanted them to look up and realize their dad was here, and that he would protect them. But, that would mean bringing them back to the house, inexplicably found, when he was the only suspect in their kidnapping. Or it would mean leaving them here, in this abandoned warehouse, while he left to get food and bring it back indefinitely.

      “… The Host leaves Chase Brody to make his decision,” the Host straightened back to his full height, but Chase’s voice found traction at last.

      “Can he get them like this? If you did it?”

      “Anti is unable access or manipulate the minds and bodies of Connor and Ellie in this state, and any dreams they may have will not be unkind. The choice is with Chase, but he should know the Host and Void’s protection over his family will end if he chooses to return to that vulnerable house.”

The cold hands of dread stole over his entire body and wrapped around his heart. He’d come here in the first place in hopes of finding his kids and an ally in the fight. It was a fight to make his lips move again.

      “Why?”

      “Because I don’t have time for stupidity,” Void cut in from across the room as they brushed blood off the dirty, crusted table, “and neither does he. If you want to serve your family on a platter for Anti, be my guest. But I won’t be there to stop him.”

Chapter Text

Sleep fled long before dawn, but Chase found he was not the only one it had forsaken. Connor and Ellie were still as ever against his sides, and the Host was asleep on a cot, his back against the wall and hands curled near his face. Void was seated at the dirty table, trying in vain to turn the page of a paperback book. Their hands shimmered with that agitated haze of red and the rest of their outline glitched every time they attempted to lift that piece of paper. Their fingers phased through, then their entire hand, and the book folded itself closed with a faint rustle of pages and a thump. The single light in the room came from distant street lamps, but he could almost see the resigned irritation in their face.

It felt wrong, so very wrong to leave his children on that pile of old blankets where he’d found them, but Connor and Ellie wouldn’t know any better. For the first time since he’d laid eyes on them again, Chase finally let go, and Void said nothing as he lifted a vacant chair and took a quiet seat at the table.

      “… This is how you see best, right? In the dark?” Chase’s voice was soft, but Void’s black eyes didn’t lift from the novel. “I can see everything in here. It’s out there, under the lights and the sun, I can’t see a damn thing.”

Silence fell, and Chase curled tighter into his hoodie against the chill of the empty warehouse. He almost wished the cookie sheets were still shoved inside it, but there was no dealing with those while holding his kids. It was miracle he even could hold his kids.

      “Thank you. For saving them. It… fucking terrifies me to see them this way, but… part of me thought I was only going to find them when he was done. How did you get them first?”

Void pushed white fringe away from their face, and Chase was struck again at the sheer anonymity of their features. Almost equal parts masculine and feminine, and without the striking skin, hair and eyes, unremarkable. If Void changed their features just enough to pass as a normal fucking human being, and someone asked if it was them or not? Even with a gun to his head, Chase wasn't confident he'd be able to say yes. It was a face of anyone and no one.

      “... I was already there,” Void relented, letting the strands of white fall back into place. “I wanted to tell Ellie I was sorry. It wasn’t the broken woman I was trying to kill, it was the glitch.”

      “So you-” Chase leaned closer, “you were what, in ghost form again? Why did you go ballistic and trash her room when I threw water on you?” Void turned that gaze on him for the first time, and the red haze around their frame darkened a shade. “Imagine having to account for every cell in your body, trying to coax them back together one at a time, and then some asshole scatters them all with water.”

His head ducked with half an awkward cough at that, and the brim of his cap briefly shielded his face.

      “… Do you have to concentrate on being solid all the time? Does Anti?”

      “How many times are you going to make me tell you I don’t. Know him. Personally.” The demon’s voice was soft, but still carried an impatient edge in the dark. “All I’ve got is his reputation. I don’t know how his body works, I couldn’t tell you how mine works.”

He accepted that, truth or lie. There wasn't a great deal of choice in the matter. Chase’s eyes trailed over that androgynous face again, and narrowed.

      “If he’s my double there… does that mean you have a human double here? Do you hate them as much as he hates me?” Void let out a mirthless huff in the dark, and for a moment, Chase thought that was the only answer he’d get. “... They aren’t substantial enough to hate. They just exist. Buying groceries and driving cars like anyone else. They have nothing I want or need.”

      “That’s exactly what I thought a nightmare double would think about me. And here we are, stuck in an old warehouse because he gets a kick out of seeing me miserable.”

      “If you think you’re protecting them, don’t bother. They’re not worth my time. They failed even harder at internet fame than you.” He stirred at that, mouth dropping open. “… Did you seriously watch my channel? Dude, why?”

Black eyes rolled in the dark.

      “The Host found it. He was looking for hints of Anti in the coding. There’s nothing there.”

A faint murmur from the cot turned both heads, but the man in the trench coat didn’t move or speak again.

      “… If you stay, don’t ever wake him up. He doesn't sleep well. Or often.”

      “Who is he, really? Why does he talk in third person?”

Void hesitated, and Chase could tell they were weighing their words.

      “Not much of that is mine to say. He’s not from the void like I am, but he has his own double there, too. We might all have infinite doubles. He’s the only one who’s seen how deep the mirror goes, and he paid for it.”

Chase turned toward the Host’s sleeping form as he murmured again, some broken narration too quiet to hear.

      “Was he always like this?” he asked, and Void shook their head. “He… used to be an author. What he wrote about people came true. But two of his ‘characters’ rebelled, they left him for dead, and they ran.”

      “… If someone was puppeting my life, I’d run, too.”

      “Yeah, it’s rather fucked up.”

      “So,” Chase glanced back at the man, “how did he go from an author to the Host?”

      “… He doesn’t talk about it, but… I think he wrote himself the power to find his characters, and it worked too well. He found every character there ever was, had been, or will be. He can see all the stories in this universe, and he’s not their author, he’s their host… I can’t imagine human eyes could handle seeing what he did, and it would explain why the sockets never stop bleeding. Cut him anywhere else and it heals, but his eye sockets always bleed.”

      “Are you telling me he’s from an alternate universe? Jesus Christ, if he’s the human version, what’s his nightmare double like?” The entity shrugged, and it was a glitching, erratic gesture. “Only the Host knows his version from the void. He claims they’re friends.”

      “And you believe him?”

      “He can’t lie. Whether it’s true or not, he believes it.”

      “How do you know he’s not narrating you?”

That drew a slow inhale through bloodless lips, but Void let it go.

      “I can’t say I have proof, but I don’t think he is. He’s not publishing his own story to sell – he just narrates the world as it happens. If he was writing this, he wouldn’t have mistaken me for the glitch the day we met.”

Another shift and murmur from the cot left Void’s brows knit and eyes narrowed, as if on the fence about intervening. Chase didn’t give them a chance to dwell on it.

      “Why are you helping me? Or my family? You said you don’t even know Anti, why are you trying to stop his plans?”

The silence could have been cut with a knife, and dread stole over his body as the teleporter’s shimmering frame stilled for just a moment. He saw Void’s solid outline, but the definition was gone in a heartbeat.

      “… The Host has visions of the past, present and future. The future ones aren’t always true, shit can always change. But he saw one where Anti got access to every universe. Not just here and the void, but every last one. Some of those worlds would devour the rest, whether he wanted them to or not.”

Fear should have been the emotion he felt, but what clouded his face was confusion.

      “What the fuck would he even do with access to other universes? Buy a disposable camera and go on a fucking tour?” That almost, almost earned a ghost of a smile before it evaporated. “It didn’t scare me, either. I liked the idea of him being someone else’s problem. But the Host thinks he’d only use the opportunity for destruction. The void isn’t a planet, it’s a living dimension. When you push on its boundaries, it gives. When you kill someone, they might come back. It’s not like here. This place has consequences. And if he pushes it too far, there would always be another universe to test and test again.”

Chase sat back in his seat, and a hand scrubbed roughly down his stubbled face.

      “Do you really think he’d succeed?”

      “Personally, no. He’s one entity. And from what I’ve heard and seen in the void, his plans and exploits change by the hour… and evidence suggests he’s barely explored this world. The Host is more worried about this access to the multiverse being discovered by someone else.”

      “… You said Anti was the worst thing in the void.”

      “He’s the worst thing I know of. The void’s an abyss, there’s reaches no one’s ever seen. Just because he likes fame doesn’t guarantee he’s the apex predator.” Chase shook his head and reached for a bottle of water from the dufflebag, if only for something to do with his hands. “So, you’re telling me you went all in with the Host on a vision that might not even be true?”

Another shrug in the dark.

      “After that first confrontation, we just. Stayed. He’s honestly the only thing in this world that makes sense to me.” The bottom of the plastic bottle thudded to the table before it reached his lips. “So, what? You’re doing this for kicks? Do you actually care what might happen?”

      “Why should I?” Void’s black eyes narrowed in the dim light. “This isn’t my world. Cover it in nuclear winter, I'd finally be able to see. I don’t care who wins the latest power struggle, here, there, or anywhere. I just care that I’m still standing when it’s over.”

The Host murmured again with a restless shift, and Chase could all but feel the dangerous thrum of energy as his slow gaze drifted from the man’s outline back to Void.

      “... But you care what happens to him. That's the kicker, isn't it?”

Void wasn’t given a chance to answer as the Host’s narrations grew louder and more urgent. The hands near his face were curled into white-knuckled fists, and Void didn’t bother to go around the table to reach him. A billow of red smoke swallowed their chair and they manifested beside the cot to shake the Host’s exposed arm and shoulder.

      “Wake up. Host, you’re safe.” There was no acknowledgement, and he seemed to curl tighter at the contact. “Rivers, oceans, boiling, BOILING, THE HOST CAN’T STOP IT-!”

      “He doesn’t have to!” One deft hand caught the defensive swing of the Host’s arm as he lashed out, and the words brought a fraction of stillness to his frame. “He doesn’t have to, because he realizes it’s a dream. The Host is safe.”

Chase didn't think it could be that easy, but the effect of hearing someone else narrate the world was immediate. The Host sagged back against the cot, his chest heaving as a shaking hand pushed back his disheveled hair.

      “The H-Host apologizes-”

      “Don’t. No one was sleeping but you.”

The only answer was his labored breath until Void’s hands flickered out of his existence, and his arm fell through their grasp with a soft thud.

      “He feels his arm phase through their grip and questions why Void did not wake him to take watch as discussed.”

The entity drew back and away, but the narrator’s hand that caught their forearm was both gentle and firm.

      “I’m fine. You needed it more.”

Even as they spoke, the arm glitched again out of the Host’s grip. Chase watched as the man pushed himself up on the cot and pulled Void down beside him before wrapping his arms around their incorporeal frame. A wave of quiet narrations flowed from his lips, too low for Chase to hear, and Void’s erratic outline began to fall still. Chase wasn't sure if the red haze dissipated or withdrew back into their body, but they were left in far more control than they had been.

      “Void stays. The Host will take watch now.”

      “I still say you need this more than me. I’m good for a few hours now.”

      “He doesn’t care. His friend will stay and get the rest they need. The Host will likely not find rest again until he writes… the… visions… down……”

Chase blinked as his head swam, and the narrator’s voice stretched and muffled in his ears. A trickling warmth ran down his temple, but his arm was too heavy to inspect it. Somewhere in the darkness, he felt uncertain hands on his shoulders.

      “-ase… bro…is… blee……?”

The soaked bandage over his temple slid from his face onto the cracked concrete floor with a bloody splatter. He didn’t feel his body follow.

10AM

The Brody household stood silent until the heavy click of a key in the lock freed the front door. Stacy pushed it open, her neck still wrapped and brown eyes pained as they scanned for missing children. She knew it would be hard, but she couldn’t stay in that hospital bed another minute, it was costing them a fortune.

It didn’t make the empty house any easier.

There was still blood on the door frames of Connor and Ellie’s rooms, blackened handprints collected as evidence. The upstairs hallway carpet was stained with Chase’s blood, and the voices of the police drifted through her ears again.

      Ma’am, there was no impact splatter in the hallway, no blood other than the stain on the carpet. He suffered a wound, but not by blunt force. It looks like it could have been self-inflicted.

She’d pushed those ideas away. They wanted to paint him as the grieving estranged husband who might try a desperate ploy to get his kids back, but she didn’t hoard them from him. She ran with them once, at the very beginning, and promised she’d never do it again. He was still part of their lives, part of her life, he had no reason to steal them.

      “Stacy?”

Footsteps creaked up the stairs behind her, and a rough hand squeezed her shoulder.

      “Sorry, I meant to clean this up. Let’s get you unpacked, I’ll deal with it.”

Stacy let herself be led to the bedroom, and the two bags of belongings from the hospital were left on the comforter. She reached out, and stilled her husband’s hands before he could open one. Brown eyes lifted to meet Chase’s gaze, and his own were knit in return. She traced the bandages over his temple and then melted into his arms. They were warm and strong around her, same as ever, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

      “We have to get them back,” Stacy’s voice was a hoarse whisper, but still heard. “We have to.”

      “We will.” Chase’s arms tightened, and his gaze lifted to the mirror across the room. His lips tugged into half a smile as the heather blue irises in his reflection were seared into a blazing green.

      “I promise.”

Chapter Text

The only sound in Chase’s ears was his own shaking breath. He was lost, adrift in the cold silence. It almost felt like he was submerged in stagnant water, but couldn’t will his limbs to move. Time had no meaning, it could have been seconds or days before heather blue eyes finally opened.

Nothing greeted him.

Air hitched in Chase’s lungs as he turned on the spot, pupils blown wide against the blackness. It was not crushingly close, he could sense depth far beyond arm’s reach, but the sheer emptiness of it all made his heart stutter.

One of his trembling hands lifted to scrub at his face, but anchored in mid-air at the realization he could see it. Chase looked down and found himself illuminated, but that light could not penetrate the dark beyond his skin. He existed, but nothing existed around him.

      The page between chapters.

It wasn’t the lack of sight, but the silence that was starting to become unnerving. The only sound in the darkness came from him. Stuttered breaths, pounding veins, shifting fabric. The only noise in his ears was the symphony of a human body.

      He said it wasn’t like this, he said they would sleep or dream something nice-

A shoe inched forward in the dark to test the black nothing beneath it. There could have been a chasm ready to swallow him whole and he’d never know it. What would happen if he died in here, and then the Host narrated him awake? Would his body just stay in a coma?

      Would something else wake up?

Half a sob sounded like a gunshot in his straining ears, and his shoes moved no further. If this was the Host’s stasis, Chase shouldn’t have been awake. He didn’t want to be, the nothingness would drive him insane.

      “CAN YOU HEAR ME!?” The scream almost startled him, and Chase wrenched his gaze upwards. “HOST, I’M HERE! KNOCK ME OUT OR WAKE ME UP, PLEASE! I CAN’T TAKE THIS!”

      “Dad?”

Chase’s head snapped toward the tentative voice, and his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of a man his age. A man with Stacy’s brown eyes and cheekbones, and Chase’s hair. “Dad,” he tried again, pushing forward, “Dad, is that really you? How long have I been here?”

Chase’s eyes blurred and scalding rivulets tracked down stubbled cheeks as he stumbled forward and seized Connor with every ounce of strength in his body. He was taller than his old man now, and Chase could only cling as the mourning seized him by the throat and dragged him under. His entire childhood, gone, because he trusted a stranger to keep him safe.

      “Dad, breathe. I’m okay. The blind man and the teleporter locked us in here, but we’re gonna find the way out. Ellie’s scouting up ahead.” Careful hands peeled Chase’s arms back, and his breath hitched when Connor stepped out of reach. “They’re bad people, you can’t trust them. Follow me!”

      the teleporter

Where had Chase heard that name for Void? He faltered a step, but Connor’s familiar brown eyes shifted back to meet his own, and he trusted them completely. His son smiled, but it froze at the unmistakable sound of tearing.

      “DAD, RUN!”

Chase turned on his heels and found him face-to-face with the demon. Soulless black eyes met his, and with four staccato cracks through the air, he and Connor were surrounded. The same set of eyes stared them down on all sides, and Chase reached back to wrap a protective arm around his son.

      “Void, please,” he stared down the first iteration that had appeared, gaze wide and bloodshot, “he’s been here too long, let us out. Ellie, too.”

His plea hung in the air for a long moment before those sharp cracks sounded again, and every clone of Void vanished in a plume of red. Connor’s hands barely found Chase’s sides before an unseen force hurtled them apart. A startled yelp of pain escaped on impact with the frigid ground, and his frantic gaze darted through the dark for his son. Connor was just as illuminated as Chase, and his lanky body climbed shakily to its feet.

      “I’m okay,” he wheezed, and his long frame doubled over to catch his breath. I’m o-” The rest was lost to a gurgle in his throat as a twin pair of sixteen-inch needles burst through his ribs from behind.

Chase screamed, his sneakers scrabbled against the cold ground for purchase before they propelled him forward. The demon disappeared in billow of scarlet smoke, and the needles evaporated from Connor’s chest. Their absence would only kill him faster.

      “No no no no no, stay with me, please, I’m right here,” Chase ripped off his hoodie and wrapped it around the entry and exit wounds, bracing Connor’s back over his leg and pushing down on his stuttering chest with his hands. “I’m here, Connor, please, you have to hang on, I’ll get you out of here, I promise, just keep your eyes open, look at me!”

His words were little more than babbling, and the face of his grown son swirled out of focus behind his drenched eyes. Blood was soaking his pant leg and crawling up to his wrists. He could taste it in the air, and he could hear it dripping to the ground.

      “Dad…” Connor wheezed as his hand lurched to grasp at Chase. “… find… Ellie… please……”

A moment of silence. The hand slipped from his arm, the shivering fell still, and Connor’s eyes glazed. Chase was rigid in the darkness, an artist’s sculpted monument to misery. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, widened eyes locked on a pallid face that saw nothing. It was like pulling himself from stone when he leaned down, pressed his head against his son’s ruined chest, and opened his mouth to scream.

      “Chase Brody’s vocal cords no longer work! Try as he might to scream, no sound leaves his throat!”

His lungs emptied, and nothing but silence was there to greet him. Chase swore to no avail when his murderous gaze found the Host, but he bet the narrator knew what he was thinking.

      You said my kids were SAFE! You fucking LIED TO ME!

      “It was necessary to keep Chase here. Now we no longer need them.”

Chase’s brows drew in, but a feminine scream in the darkness whipped his head back.

      ELLIE!

He still couldn’t speak, couldn’t even hazard a guess what direction it came from, but the Host was still a solid presence in front of him.

      “Like I said, we no longer need-”

The Host’s words were lost as Chase’s hands crushed his windpipe and slapped against his mouth, stifling his narrations. He barely noticed as the details of the warehouse stole up the walls around them, he only had eyes for the man who had tortured his children. The Host’s hands tugged at the wrist that held his throat, but surprise was on his side, and adrenaline filled him with a power and rage he’d never felt in his life.

Black and white caught his eye across the room. In one fluid movement, Chase released the Host’s mouth, snatched the gun tucked into his waistband, and fired. The handgun deafened them at the same moment Void disappeared in a haze of red, and but he wasn’t given a chance to track their teleport before a hand seized Chase’s neck and a knee slammed into his sternum. He managed to keep his hold on the Host’s throat, but not the gun, and he looked up in time to watch a leather-clad arm wrap around the narrator’s stomach from behind. The Host and Void both vanished into smoke, but his coughing and gasping soon echoed somewhere deeper in the warehouse. Chase knew there was only so much time before he could speak again.

The vlogger snatched the gun from the floor, but his eyes fell on the still outlines of Connor and Ellie. A shaking hand checked Connor’s neck for a pulse, and it was there. His heart was beating, but was he really in there? Would he stay that way, even out of stasis, because everything that made up his son had bled out on the other side?

      “WAKE THEM UP!” Chase was almost startled when his voice echoed off the walls, like it had never been stolen. The gun raised toward the doorway as he knelt over his children. “WAKE THEM UP, OR I WILL SHOOT YOU BOTH!”

The Host was still coughing, but in the pauses between fits, Chase felt the tension leach from his shoulders. Bit by bit, the arm that held the gun was becoming too weak and heavy to lift.

      “STOP IT!” Chase shoved himself to his feet and barreled through the door, “STOP-” he was all but thrown against rusting steel, and the gun was pried from his hands before the arm that held it was twisted behind his back almost far enough to break it. A heavy kick behind Chase’s knee folded it and brought him down hard, panting and seething in the dim light.

      “Whatever you saw wasn’t real,” Void hissed above him, and their grip threatened to snap his arm. “It’s the only reason you’re still breathing.”

      “Th-the Host… rubs his bruised… aching throat,” another coughing fit wracked the narrator’s body before he shuffled into view and sagged heavily against the wall. “And asks… asks Chase to explain his motives…”

Chase struggled against the demon’s hold and earned the cold metal of a syringe against his neck for the effort. The chill and the unspoken promise were enough to send a shiver ripping down his spine.

      “I saw Connor in stasis. He was fucking my age because time in there isn’t real. I watched you-” he threw his weight back against Void in defiance, despite the pain that exploded in his arm, “fucking stab him and leave!”

The demon’s grip didn’t relent, but the Host’s head tilted in contemplation.

      “He weighs Chase’s words and asks if there was anything he witnessed or heard that seemed in any way off. He presses that no detail is too small.”

      “I…” Chase stilled a bit, eyes shut against the trickle of sweat that threatened to sting them. There had been a few moments that caught his attention. “you… spoke in first person. I didn’t think you could.”

      “… The Host cannot speak in first person, not without great concentration. He knows the words, he could form the sentences, but it is unnatural for him, and it would never happen in casual conversation. He is relieved to learn Anti knows less about the Host than he first suspected.”

The Host nodded to Void, who didn’t relent their grip on Chase in the slightest. The defiance earned a light and reproachful tilt of his head, and Chase was left to imagine whatever look Void gave him in return. Relief flooded his system as his arm was freed, and he held the abused joint against his chest like a broken wing.

      “… Please wake them up,” Chase stammered, “I’ll figure something out, but I need to know they’re okay. I just watched my son bleed out in my arms, please.”

There was a heavy silence, and for once, the Host’s lips were pressed in a thin, unmoving line. It was a long moment before the narrator spoke.

      “… Chase must understand this is ill-advised. Before Chase woke, the wound on his head began to bleed profusely. He collapsed for several hours and despite the Host’s attempts to seal his mind from Anti, he was obviously unsuccessful. If Anti was able to compromise Chase from so far a distance, and he chose visions of his children in peril to torment him, perhaps what he truly desires is access to Connor and Ellie. They cannot be influenced or found in this state. They are not-”

The Host shuddered and sagged against the wall, and Void’s presence behind him vanished with that tearing of reality. Their arms materialized beneath the Host’s propping him up as a rush of narrations flowed from his lips like a river.

      “Darkness, darkness made to mimic the page between chapters. The Host speculates the architect has never read a book, it would never be a place so hollow and cold. He sees Chase Brody, and… Connor Brody. Their words are… obscured by static… the walls shift to… to s̢t́at̶íc̛…”

The Host’s entire body was shaking. Void’s eyes were wide, and they had to swing an arm wide to avoid impaling him with a trocar before a hand slapped over his mouth to stifle the narrations.

      “Find something that can snap him out of this, GO.”

Those black eyes watched as Chase threw himself back into the safe room and grabbed the dufflebag. He’d packed anything and everything in his house that might have given him a chance against demons, and one of those things was a jug of ammonia. The harsh-smelling liquid sloshed over his hands in his haste to twist remove the safety cap, and he sprinted back to raise the entire bottle beneath the Host’s nose.

His whole body stuttered, and Void pulled their hand away just in time for him to gasp and cough again, hard enough that fresh blood was darkening the bandages around his empty eye sockets. Chase moved a hand to help brace him, but it wavered and dropped at the sight of the bruising around his neck. That wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, not unless he narrated it away.

      “The Host…” he gasped, his head dipping until his forehead came to rest against Void’s shoulder, “The Host is not there… he is not there…”

With a flicker of red, both arms glitched out of the leather the syringes were bound to, and the gauntlets clattered to the floor. Void’s movements were unsure as their arms settled around the Host, but neither of them moved.

      “… We can’t stay here,” Void murmured against his ear. “He was in Chase’s mind too long, and he almost had yours. We need to move.”

      “I don’t know if it matters.”

Chase’s voice was hoarse, but still heard in the dimness of dawn.

      “Anti found me in the middle of the woods. I don’t know if there’s anywhere we can actually hide.”

      “The Host straightens with a wince… and suggests in that case, the group finds more comfortable accommodations. He would rather not die in this decrepit warehouse if their location has no bearing on Anti’s power.”

Void shook their head, and kept a supportive hold on the narrator.

      “There is some bearing. When the power was cut in the house, he stumbled. He had to summon his own energy to power the light upstairs, because he had nothing to manipulate. The less electricity, the better our chances. He’s playing with us because he has nothing to bring to a fight but himself.”

      “He possessed my wife and made her slit her own throat. Motherfucker doesn’t need anything but himself.”

Chase’s interjection plunged them all in silence, but the thought of Stacy made him ache for his phone. He’d left it a home in case things went south, and she was still in the hospital. Maybe they could find a place up north, something off the grid. Less electricity was at least something, and then maybe his kids could wake up.

      “… Both of you should get some sleep. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to again.”

Chapter Text

8AM

A hammer pounded in Chase’s head with every beat of his heart. It was a painful combination of fatigue, dehydration, and caffeine withdrawal. Hunger as well, he was sure, not that he felt anything in the pit of his stomach but nausea. It all took a disorienting toll on his state of mind, and the change that had been narrated into his pocket barely earned a mumble of thanks let alone awe. The rest of his body was grimy and numb from hours of sitting on concrete in that abandoned warehouse, and his mind had numbed with it.

The payphone across the street looked like it had always been there, but Chase wondered now if the Host hadn’t manifested it himself.

      Wish he’d manifest Anti back into the fucking void.

There was an unusual chill in the morning air, and Chase hunkered into his hoodie with a shiver. The earpiece of the payphone was even colder against his skin, and it grated against the old bandages as the hospital’s number was dialed.

      “Thank you for calling Huron General Hospital. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial-” Chase didn’t wait for the prompt to press the numbers he needed to connect to Stacy’s room, but the phone rang… and rang… and rang.

      “Come on…” he muttered tiredly, and a hand scrubbed down the good half of his face. She could sleep like the dead, but she had to hear the phone ringing. He knew that was charged, but her cell may have still been on silent at this hour. A few agonizing moments later, there was an unfamiliar voice in his ear.

      “Huron General, can I help you?”

Chase went still, and his grip on the phone tightened.

      “Hi, I was trying to reach the patient in this room, Stacy Brody.” There was a pause as the phone was wedged into a shoulder on the other end, and the sound of rapid keystrokes clacked in the background. “… Sir, Stacy was released yesterday evening.”

      “She checked out alone?” Chase leaned closer to the terminal, like it would help him understand. She could have left alone, but she didn’t have her car… and he didn’t know how safe she’d feel getting a cab when they were being hunted by a shapeshifter.

      “… Mmmm, no?” the woman replied after a pause, “No, our records indicate she checked out with her husband.”

It felt like he’d been seized by the throat and plunged into icewater. Numbed lips opened and closed, but not even air passed through. The phone was hung up with no conscious thought to do so, and his legs turned to water as he stumbled back toward the warehouse. Chase’s vision and hearing tunneled, and when steady hands caught his shoulders, he screamed.

12 HOURS EARLIER

Stacy hardly tasted the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Chase had set in front of her. She hadn’t given it a thought beyond how the bread with the peanut butter was all but mangled and the jelly was more in globs than spread smooth. It was like he’d forgotten how to make one. Maybe they were both just too tired to care.

Chase was skittish, even around her. His head snapped around at the smallest sounds, and sometimes he gripped the counters and furniture so tight they groaned. It was like he was afraid he’d disappear without an anchor. It wasn’t fair to ask him to be strong while a psychopath had their kids, but he was ramping her own anxiety to eleven.

His caged pacing echoed down the hall, and her gaze drifted to the dying light that scattered across their front lawn. No… her front lawn. It hadn’t been theirs for two years now. Brown eyes narrowed as she straightened, but craning her neck toward the window earned a grimace of pain.

      “Chase,” her voice was still raspy, “where’s your car?” Stacy flinched as he all but materialized at her elbow.

      “I got a cab here. I can’t even fucking see straight, figured I’d let someone else drive.”

She made a noncommittal noise at that and went back to chewing her crude sandwich while her husband melted back into the darkness. The PB&J was almost gone before she froze.

      He drove my car to the hospital.

Stacy swallowed hard against the first stirrings of panic. This was Chase, he was a good liar. He probably rear-ended someone and his car was in the shop, it was just the kind of thing he’d hide if he didn’t want her to worry. Hi hon, Connor and Ellie have been kidnapped by my evil twin, and by the way, I racked up $900 worth of damage on my car. No, he’d sweep that kind of thing under the rug until she ripped it up herself. It was the same brand of shit that destroyed their marriage.

      That’s not Chase.

Her brown eyes drifted toward the hall, and his shadow disappeared up the stairs to her bedroom. It had to be her husband, it had to.

      That’s not Chase.

The small voice was becoming a mantra in her head. Enough so that it guided her hands to her car keys, and closed her fingers around the tiny cannister of pepper spray that dangled from the clip.

      That’s not Chase.

His footsteps pounded in circles above and hers were silent, inching up the carpeted stairs. The spray was hidden in a pocket, and her hand was white around the warming metal. Again and again he paced, like a caged animal with nothing better to do with its energy. When Stacy reached the doorway an eternity later, his head snapped up, but the guilty shock reflected in heather blue eyes was all Chase.

Her expression crumpled with relief, and both her hands found his stubbled cheeks, just as they had the day he’d been missing. Confusion colored his features, and broad hands were tentative as they covered her own. Warm, but uncertain. It was him, it had to be him, it had to be him.

      THAT’S NOT CHASE.

In one deft move, her thumb slipped beneath the bandage on his temple and pulled the entire dressing over their heads. All she found beneath was smooth, unbroken skin.

The air in the room seemed to condense as the hand over Stacy’s shifted instead to her wrist and squeezed while that achingly familiar face stretched into a wicked smile. Blue eyes burned a sickly green that seemed to carry a light of their own.

      “Clever girl. And here I thought you really were starting to like me!”

      “What do you want?”

Her voice was little more than a whisper above the crackling bones in her wrist, but the pressure stopped without warning. Anti tilted his head unnaturally far, but those blazing green eyes never left her face.

      “You know, I haven’t thought about it that hard. I wondered what would happen if I took over the life of your favorite boy. Deadbeat shoes can’t be hard to fill, right? But see, now I’ll never know! Because that býp̴r̛o̧d̢uc̸t͞-“

Anti’s voice crackled with static and his outline glitched, but his grip on her wrist was solid as ever.

      “-th͠at̸ ̕f͢a͜il͠ed ͞ęx̵periment, ̵t̕ook ͟th͟e ͏c̶hi̧ldr͟eǹ.͏ ͘W̨h̀o k͝n̸ows,́ Stac͟y͠?̵ I ͞còu̢l͏d h͞a̸v̨e been a ̵gr͟eàt ̵dąd.̛"̷

      “YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!” The bandages fell from her hand and she shoved against his chest with surprising strength. “YOU TRIED TO KILL CHASE! AND YOU, WHAT, YOU THOUGHT YOU’D TAKE HIS PLACE!? WHY!?”

Her wrist was still trapped in Anti’s grip, and her fingers were turning red and purple from the lack of circulation. His smile numbed the rest of her body.

      “I wanted to see what he had. I wanted to see what he lost. I would have killed myself too, if my life was so fucking pa̕t̀h̸eti͝c. Oh, you didn’t know?” Stacy’s face drained of color as Anti formed a gun with his fingers and pressed it to his temple, where the wound should have been. “Remember the day when you told him it was over? He came home, he pulled that gun from the top shelf of the closet, and he put it to his head. Right-” she lurched as he dragged her within an inch of his face. “h͝ére͜.̸ Right against his head, and he pulled the trigger. But the gun was empty. Chase is so useless, he couldn’t even kill himself without fucking it all up. So he sćr̶eame͝d̶,̡ and he S̕C͘R̢E̷A̷M̀ĘD́,͜ and he let. Me. I̷n͞.͠"

Stacy’s free hand dug into her pocket and ripped the pepper spray free. Anti bellowed as the burning spray glued to his eyes, and the walls seemed to buckle when his body glitched apart with a staticky roar. His voice was woven into the very molecules of the air, she felt it vibrating in her own lungs as she threw herself down the hall toward the stairs. Stacy’s freed hand was stinging with a thousand needles, and it joined the other above her head as picture frames launched off the walls and shattered. The stiff muscles of her neck seared with pain, but she cleared the stairs and hurtled for the entrance in time for the kitchen table to careen into her side like a drunk driver. Stacy hit the ground hard but adrenaline threw her upright in an instant, and the front door was barreled open so hard that the handle punched a hole in the siding.

Every window in the house blazed with green static. Shafts of light cut through the darkness like knives and swallowed everything inside. Stacy tore open the driver’s side door of her car and dove inside as the light seared her retinas, and tires screamed against the pavement when the engine turned. The car was blindly thrown in reverse and the pedal was flattened against the floor once it felt like it had reached the road.

Somehow, she’d managed to straighten it out. It was four blocks down before she could see the road again.

Chapter Text

10AM

      “It’s Stacy, leave a message!”

Five words had never cut so deep. They sounded tinny and hollow in the payphone receiver, and the worn plastic was slammed against the hook switch to the tune of jingling change once again. Chase fumbled for the coins he had shoved into that machine so many times, they were warm to the touch.

      “It’s Stacy, leave a message!”

      “Fuck.”

It was little more than a broken, shuddery wheeze that vanished even in the weak rays of sunlight that reached the forgotten district. His fist had whitened against the fresh bandages that concealed the wound that never stopped bleeding.

      “Stacy, it’s Chase. I don’t have my phone, if you see this number, please answer it. I’m begging you. He’s with you, Stace, that’s not me, you have to get out of the house. You have to run. Take your phone and get out as soon as you fucking can, this is not a drill. Please baby, I’m going to keep trying to reach you-”

The payphone’s cheerful automated voice told him he’d reached his limit, and the call was disconnected. Chase slammed the receiver down again, and both hands slid beneath his cap to ball into fists in his hair.

      This fucked arrangement is over.

It was the first concrete thought in his head since hospital call, and it was embraced without question. Chase turned on his heels and marched back into the abandoned warehouse, his face a mask of calm he did not feel. The local cryptids were in their usual perches, and Void’s warning shift was ignored as his barreling feet landed squarely in front of the Host.

      “Wake them up.”

The narrator’s head tilted, but that bandaged gaze was unreadable as ever.

      “… The Host cautions that would be unwise-”

      “I don’t care. My wife might be dead, I’m probably next, and neither of you are down to raise children, so wake them up. They’re not spending eternity orphaned and in a fucking coma. Their last memory of their mom is her in a hospital bed with a slit throat, and their last memory of me is the time I couldn’t save them. I want to tell them I love them, and take them to my brother’s cabin upstate, so that at least they’ll have some fucking ghost of a normal childhood when I’m cold in the ground.”

      “You’re giving up.”

It was a statement, not a question from the shadowed figure in the corner. A glint of red played against the dim light as their goggles melted into view. Chase’s fists were so tight his nails could have drawn blood against his palms, and it was a fight to unhinge his jaw to speak.

      “He wants me. It’ll end with me. He only gives a shit about Connor and Ellie because he knows how much hurting them will hurt me. If I die, but they’re safe, I did my fucking job.” Heather blue eyes turned instead to the Host, and they softened a pleading shade. “Their story can’t end like this. Not between pages. It’s not an ending at all.”

The silence in the warehouse was thick before the Host pushed a sigh through his nose and rose to his feet.

      “The Host reluctantly acquiesces. He will take no joy in hearing of Chase Brody’s death at the hands of the glitch, and reminds him it will in no way guarantee the sparing of his children.”

      “You’re right. I might fuck this up like I’ve fucked up every other thing I’ve ever touched in my god damn life. But at least I’ll die knowing I tried… wait-” Chase’s eyes lifted suddenly, and the narrator’s gaze shifted over his shoulder to greet them. “You have- you can see shit, right? Can you see Stacy? Can you see what happened?”

Void appeared by the Host’s elbow with a tearing billow of red, but the blind man didn’t even flinch.

      “You remember the last vision, you almost invited him in. We can’t bring him here.”

      “His power is weakened here because the Host made it so. Anti cannot breach these walls, they are guarded by more than rusting steel. It would not be as vulnerable a situation as last time.”

      “He wants to leave. We don’t owe him shit.”

      “That is what Void suggests, but not what they want. They may be lukewarm to Chase, but they do not want to see Ellie harmed… any more than they want to see the Host harmed.”

      “Guys, I’m still here,” Chase hissed through his teeth as the pale bodies of Connor and Ellie were tugged close to his chest, “quit talking like I can’t hear you. Either look back or just wake them up, and I promise you’ll never have to look at me again.”

The teleporter’s face was a stoic mask, and the Host only managed a nod before his lungs expanded and released. Silence settled like ash over the misfit group, and the first murmured narrations were too low to reach their ears.

      “…watches as Stacy Brody, unharmed aside from the healing injury, realizes Chase’s car is missing. Anti’s explanation is flimsy enough to shake her faith that he is indeed her husband… she wants to believe, desperate to believe the lie, cautious as she climbs the stairs… her silence catches the glitch off-guard, and he-” The Host tilted his head in surprise, “for a moment, he looks identical to Chase. The body language is human, the startled features are enough to drive them together. Stacy believes the lie for a second longer before she rips off the false bandages and reveals the missing wound.”

Chase’s gut was filled with churning icewater, and his face was almost gray. The Host shook his head and swayed a bit before Void’s hands gripped his biceps.

      “… Anti… commends her intuition. She questions his motives. He desired to see what life was like in Chase’s shoes, but claims he will never know because the… the byproduct… the failed experiment took Connor and Ellie before he could.”

The Host must have been too deep into the vision to feel it, and Chase was almost too engrossed to notice how Void’s fingers dug into his muscles beneath the trench coat.

      “He tells Stacy that Chase tried to kill himself the day their marriage shattered. He claims he would have done the same if he shared such a pathetic life, and he… mocks the fact Chase failed to finish the job. He claims the man’s breakdown over that fact is what invited Anti to this world in the first place. ‘He screamed, and he screamed, and he let. Me. In.’”

A rough hand scrubbed at Chase’s eyes and stayed there and his tired body trembled in the stagnant warehouse air. She was never meant to know what he did, and that might have been the last thing she ever heard. Dread and shame filled his chest like toxic sludge, he could feel it grinding his heart and lungs to a halt. It was a long moment before his tunneled ears heard the narrator continue.

      “… pepper sprays Anti’s eyes and he screams in pain and rage. The house turns on her as she flees, familiar possessions hurtle toward her of their own accord with spiteful intent. She manages to pass the front doorway before Anti consumes the home entirely. Her car drives east and the Host’s vision fades.”

The Host’s shoulders slumped as if the marionette strings had been lowered, and Void was quick to shift their grip to support him. His hands smoothed over what Chase was sure were bruises on his arms, but for once, he narrated nothing.

      “She’s alive,” Chase breathed, hardly daring to believe it. She was fuck knows where, but she was alive. It was enough to hold onto. “Void, you… you said you didn’t know him. But he sure as fuck seems to know you.”

      “… The Host also confesses his curiosity as to what Anti meant by byproduct and failed experiment.”

Pale hands released the man and Void took as step back. Their outline shimmered that agitated red, like they might discorporate any second, but their mouth was pressed in the thinnest of lines.

      “I don’t know him personally. He only knows what information he hacked in the void. It has its own technology, and he knows how to manipulate it, just like he does here.”

      “It is not the nonexistent connection that concerns him, but the hatred for that term-”

      “No.” A single, cutting syllable ended the narrator’s words for him. “I don’t ask about your past because you can’t lie. Leave mine alone.”

The creases in the Host’s face softened, just a bit, and he turned instead to kneel beside Connor and Ellie’s motionless forms, still cradled against their father. That bandaged gaze lifted to Chase’s, and he managed a small, frightened nod. The Host drew a deep breath and held both the children’s shoulders before his lips moved almost soundlessly. Even in the stillness of the empty warehouse, it was too low to hear.

      Don’t turn around.

It was like half a whispered dream, but Chase swore he heard it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as color returned to his children’s cheeks.

      Even if it asks you to.

Goosebumps skittered down his arms beneath the hoodie, and his neck almost seemed to drift on its own accord.

      I'm h̛e͞r̸e.

Connor’s arm twitched against his, and Chase’s gaze was wrenched back to his son and daughter. Their movements were sluggish and tired, and Connor’s brown eyes were first to open. The glaze was blinked away and a sharp gasp stole his breath.

      “DAD!”

Chase’s eyes wrenched shut against the threatening tears, and his face crumpled as Connor threw his arms around his neck. Ellie joined him, and Chase’s arms were so tight around their backs he thought their spines might pop. Nothing could have forced him to let go. They babbled about the night they were taken, how they thought the monster got them all, but Chase couldn’t bring himself to say a word. He just held them close and cried, one wrenching inhale at a time.

Chapter Text

“Dad, why can’t we go HOME-”

      “Are we getting mommy? Is mommy still at the hospital!?”

Every question cut Chase deeper than the last. Connor and Ellie were terrified, both clung to him like a lifeline as he carried them through the rusting warehouse. He was a man on a mission, and that mission was to get his kids out of there and safe with his brother. Chandler would be pissed, he’d have every right to be pissed, but his niece and nephew were in danger. He didn’t wait for the cryptids, he didn’t need their permission. Every panicked question was a balm against his frayed nerves, their voices in his ears enough to ground him to the here and now.

He wasn’t the headless man, walking on because his body hadn’t realized it was already dead. Not this time.

      “Dad, please, where is mommy?”

Chase bit back a sob at Ellie’s tight voice, and he faltered to a stop outside the warehouse. The sun was getting high, burning down on the dirty, frightened family huddled on the pavement.

      “Baby, I don’t know. The monster looks like me, and he tricked mommy into going home. She got away, but I don’t know where she is, I just know she’s far away from ­him.”

Ellie’s eyes were wide as saucers, and Connor was fighting back tears, his face buried against Chase’s shoulders. He couldn’t lie to them, he was no fucking good at it.

      “Dad, how do we know you’re real?”

That was a fair question, and one he didn’t have an answer to. Connor reemerged, his face tight and brows pinched as he studied his father’s face like he’d never seen it before. Chase had to open his mouth several times before his vocal cords found traction.

      “Ask me something. Something only I would know.”

      “Who’s your favorite clone from Star Wars?”

      “Captain Rex. He’s a badass, and keeps getting yeeted off tall shit.”

Connor turned to Ellie and gave her such a sage nod that Chase almost laughed out loud.

      “That’s definitely dad.”

      “Should Cap’n Rex be our code word?”

Chase’s head tilted at that. It wasn’t a bad idea. Something he could yell if the kids were ever faced with both him and Anti. It was becoming inevitable, like magnets drawing together. Each passing moment, they were pushed just a little bit closer. Every encounter, every tease, they were relentlessly marching toward the point where they’d slam against each other for good.

      Bro, you are not getting out of this alive.

A heavy sigh pushed through his nose, and Chase’s eyes slid shut. He wasn’t an otherworldly entity, he was just a dumbass. A ball cap and these hands, that’s all he’d have in this fight when it finally landed on his doorstep. The best he could do was try to take the bastard with him, and make sure his family was far, far away.

      “Dad?”

      “Yeah,” Chase wrenched himself back to the present and nodded. “Yeah, Rex can be our code word. Good thinking.” The sunlight burned their eyes as the rusting warehouse door slid open, and the broken family emerged into a world so mundane, it hardly seemed real. Buildings, a blue sky, a paved road that was patched and uneven. Living in the dark of the warehouse, Chase almost forgot there was such a thing as normal. He didn’t look back as the car was unlocked and his kids were strapped safe inside. The cops were still looking for Connor and Ellie, but Chase doubted they were looking that hard at anyone but him. Taking what little money he had out of the bank was a red flag and a half, he had to hope Chandler would be okay for at least a little bit with two extra mouths to feed.

       “Where are we going?” Ellie asked after Chase dumped his demon-hunting duffle bag into the trunk and climbed behind the wheel. He glanced up at the review mirror and found the frightened faces of both his children. Fear was etched into them like a second skin, and it made them look both younger and old beyond their years.

      “We’re going to your Uncle Chandler’s cabin. It’s about two hours away.”

      “Is Uncle Chandler safe from the shaky monster?”

The only answer she got was the key in the ignition. Ellie looked back at the warehouse as it started to slide away, and caught sight of white hair in the dark. A tiny hand raised to wave, and just before the doorway disappeared, she saw a flash of white in return.

Time was meaningless, measured only by the scenery that changed around his car. The industrial district brightened and gave way to downtown. Downtown greened and turned to the suburbs. The suburbs stretched into nothing. Somehow, there was still traffic, even when it felt like they were in the middle of nowhere. More headless people who hadn’t yet realized the thing holding them together was gone.

 Or maybe he’d just found the only road that led anywhere.

Pale hands were tight on the wheel, and the kids were silent for a very long time. He’d glanced back at one point and realized they were holding hands. Clinging to each other. Ellie was crying silently, and Connor’s face was set in stone as the empty landscape slid by. Nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional passing car was heard for so long, Chase about jumped out of his skin when Connor’s voice drifted from the back seat.

      “Will Mom know to find us at Uncle Chandler’s?”

Chase jumped again as a car honked at his drifting wheel, and he lurched it back into his lane. His heart was beating into his throat before he could answer.

      “No, I don’t think she will.”

Connor’s face went even paler, if that was possible, and Ellie made a face as she tried to tug her squeezed hand away from his.

      “Can you call her? Please?”

      “I don’t have my phone, I tried to call her from the payphone-“

      “Why don’t you have your phone!?”

They were asking fair questions. He was doing exactly what Connor suspected, but it didn’t make it any easier.

      “When… when he took you guys, I had to tell the police you were missing. I had to lie, a lot. They wouldn’t believe in the monster if I told them about it, they’d just think I was crazy. They think I stole you guys away from Mom since we broke up. Phones can track where you are, so I left mine at home when I went to find Void in the warehouse. I didn’t want the police to follow me and get hurt. God, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Silence fell for a moment, and not even another car came to break it. Chase was nearing the point where civilization stopped, his brother liked to live off the grid.

      “Dad,” Connor choked, his eyes red in the review mirror, “did we leave Mom?”

      “No. Bud, no. Your mom got away, Host saw it. He couldn’t see where she went. I’m going to get you guys to Uncle Chandler’s, and then I’m going to find your mother. She’s the smartest, strongest woman I ever met, and she is going to be okay. Hell, she’ll probably find us and say she killed the monster herself.”

That tugged the smallest of smiles from both their faces, and Chase’s turned into a grimace as the gas light came on. None too soon, either, there was a gas station down the road. Only one he’d seen in miles. He had a couple bucks to his name for gas and snacks for the kids, they had to be starving.

      “Do either of you need to pee?” The car pulled up to one of the empty pumps and both kids shook their heads. “Alright, I’m gonna grab us some paydays. I’ll be right back.” As far as candy bars went, they were hardly healthy, but at least they were cheap and had protein. They needed calories and protein, fucking something after being in limbo. The station was small, and a bell jingled as he pushed the bar on the front door. It seemed dark in there after driving in the sun, but the door swung shut behind him and the lights slammed off.

Chase jumped and looked back, but the door was fogged with dust like it had been abandoned for years. The station seemed to emanate its own light, but it was so very dark. Dead leaves crunched beneath his feet as he took a tentative step, and then another. The snacks were there, but they were coated in thick ash that drifted through the air like nuclear fallout. It caught in his lungs and stuck to his skin, and he couldn’t seem to wipe it away.

      The kids.

The light jingling bell from before was little more than a rusty rattle as he wrenched the door open, but the world that waited was not his own. Chase could hear his own blood in his ears as that fallout continued to drift from a sky that may have never seen the sun. The few lights that adorned the gas station parking lot were on, glowing mutely in the wasteland, and he could see nothing beyond them. The pumps were coated in ash, faded and decayed like the building behind him. The grassy fields within the glow were buried, and what grass he could see was gray and dead. The tallest blades stood like graves above the rest.

The sound of his footfalls were almost swallowed by the fallout as he ran toward his car – his car that had been running two seconds prior – that now looked like it had been rotting at least a decade. The glass was fogged, the body was collecting ash, and when he ripped open the back door, his children were gone.

      “No no no no NO- CONNOR! ELLIE!” Chase howled into the darkness, but the thick layer of ash that coated the world took his voice before it could echo. There were no footsteps around the car but his own, no indents in the seats where they had been. The darkness was oppressive, like the mouth of a giant beast, ready to swallow him whole. The overhead lights hummed louder, and the brightness swelled before they shattered with a muted burst of plastic and died.

      “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

An unfamiliar voice emanated from everywhere and nowhere. Chase held onto his car to stay anchored in the dark, and he managed to make out a flicker of red and blue in the distance.

      “What the HELL IS THIS!? WHO ARE YOU!?”

Even his hoarse voice barely seemed to leave his body before it died in the darkness. The red and blue formed a shifting, glitching outline that drew just a shade closer. Chase could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise with every passing moment, as if that disembodied voice was more of a threat than his missing kids or the dark that seeped into his very bones.

      “You opened the doorway, but I seemed to have missed my opportunity. Now. LET-“

The voice was layered, just as the twin colors were layered, and Chase instinctively shifted to the other side of the car as it drew closer.

      “ME.”

      “IN.”

      “HEY!”

Chase reeled back and heard that jingling again as his hip checked the gas station door. The clerk stared at him, wary and concerned, one hand resting on a phone as he spoke again.

      “Are you good!?”

His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst in his chest. The station was brightly lit, as clean as one would expect, and lined with snacks and food that were safe to eat.

      “Y-yeah, sorry,” Chase forced himself to take a step toward the counter and dug his wallet out of his pocket. “Sorry, can I get um. These-“ he snatched two paydays and two water bottles and dropped them within the clerk’s reach, “and um. Ten dollars on number six. Thanks.”

The clerk, a kid in his early twenties, still watched him through narrowed eyes, but took the twenty-dollar bill and gave him the change. Chase couldn’t even force a smile as he took the crumpled bills and coins and walked straight back to his car. The sun was still shining, and he could see Connor and Ellie through the windows, pale and drawn as ever.

      “Sorry that took a minute, here you guys go.” Chase passed them the water and candy bars before his numbed fingers grabbed the gas nozzle and hit the cheapest grade. He needed sleep if he was seeing shit that vivid when he was still fucking awake. He should have grabbed a coffee, but fuck if he was ever stepping foot inside that gas station again.

      “Dad, how much farther?”

      “About thirty minutes, Connor. Just hang in there.”

The words sounded hollow, even to Chase. The best he could hope for was to get them to Chandler’s as soon as possible. Maybe catch a nap and go back for Stacy. Wherever she was.

      Please be okay.

      Please.

Chapter Text

Yellow light spilled beneath a weathered lamp shade, and it bathed the room with an unnatural glow. It spread across a cheap, scratchy comforter and picked up the dull sheen of the crimson fabric. It stretched across the particle board dresser that wanted so desperately to look like solid wood. It creeped along the coarse brown carpet, a budget indoor-outdoor thread meant to hide dirt. It reflected softl against the metal of an aging air conditioner. The light reached a different glow beneath a closed door and stopped where the sound of muffled sobbing began.

The shower was running, the grayed tub and tile both questionable in their cleanliness. It splashed against the porcelain and sluiced down aching skin. White bandages had long become sodden against a scarred neck as Stacy sat under the hot shower, held her knees to her chest and cried.

       Stacy, it’s Chase. I don’t have my phone, if you see this number, please answer it. I’m begging you. He’s with you, Stace, that’s not me, you have to get out of the house. You have to run. Take your phone and get out as soon as you fucking can, this is not a drill. Please baby, I’m going to keep trying to reach you-

Chase’s voicemail echoed in her skull like the water against the tile. It had taken so long for her to listen to it, she had been convinced it was Anti. Taunting her. The only comfort she had was the kids had to be with Chase. The demon would have held them over her head, or cut them open like he did her.

Brown eyes slid shut, and a hand fisted into her sopping hair as the tears refused to slow. The bastard had been inside her brain, he’d cut her throat with her own hand, and she’d been powerless to stop it. It was terrifying, beyond terrifying, and it could easily happen again. The only comfort she had was the anonymity of a cheap motel room, and she needed to fall apart before she could move on.

      Thirty minutes to get it out, and then it’s time to work.

She would need something closer to a clear head if she wanted to get out of this alive. So, the fear was allowed, as intense as it had to be, for half an hour. That was all she could afford to give it. Stacy startled as her phone alarm beeped, and a soaked hand patted at a towel before turning it off. She forced the tears back, took several deep, calming breaths and let them go. Stacy unwound her tightened limbs, climbed to her feet, and finished her shower.

      Then it’s time to work.

Chase has the kids. Chase doesn’t have his phone. Anti doesn’t have the kids. Anti would have said where they were if he knew. Anti doesn’t know what he wants.

Stacy paced the cheap hotel room, and turned fact after fact over in her mind. Chase had the kids, he’d take them somewhere safe. Her first thought was Charlie, but Charlie was so close, and had probably been questioned or watched by the police. She would take in the kids in a heartbeat, but Chase would be arrested for kidnapping them. Second thought was her own sister, Kara, but she’d hear the whole monster story, think Chase had become dangerously unhinged, and call the cops.

That left… that left Chase’s brother, Chandler. She knew he lived in a cabin far upstate, out in the wilderness almost. It was remote enough, there wasn’t a ton of electricity… A Chase fueled by fear would have taken them there. Stacy was afraid to turn her phone back on, in case either Anti or the cops found her somehow. It was by some miracle she’d had her wallet on her when she fled. She’d grabbed as much cash as she could part with from Magnificent Savings and Loans, and bought gas and the cheap motel room.

Chandler’s. She’d go to Chandler’s. Even if Chase wasn’t there, he might have some idea where her frightened husband could be.

11PM

Chase couldn’t remember the last time he was so tired. Exhaustion had seeped into his very bones, but he ignored it. The safety of Connor and Ellie mattered more than his own stupid body. They mattered more than his own stupid life. Blue eyes lifted to the rearview mirror and found Connor asleep, but just the faintest reflection of the dash lights in Ellie’s brown eyes. Tiny pinpricks of light in the dark. She was still awake, watching.

The darkness out here was absolute, and it send a chill of familiarity down his spine. That weird… inverted world he’d so briefly glimpsed. Some nightmare reflection coated in dust and ash. Chase’s hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, and he shook his head. It hadn’t been real, he was just stressed. Stressed as fuck. There was a god damn monster after his kids, if that didn’t fuck with a guy’s brain, what would? No. He was stressed, he was scared, and for a few moments, he’d hallucinated another nightmare. Complete with its own new monster. The voice still echoed in his mind, but it hadn’t been Anti’s. It hadn’t been his own.

Shoulders deflated just a hair as a familiar dirt road branched off from the main stretch, and he flipped his signal for no one as he turned down it. The tires crunched against the dry earth and rolled to a halt outside the log cabin. It really was more house-sized than cabin-sized, thankfully, otherwise they’d all be a tight fit. Chase had just gotten Connor and Ellie out of the car when the glow of a porchlight seared over the family, and Chandler stood in the doorway.

His brother was taller and a bit more filled out. His eyes were smaller and closer together, and his jawline was a bit more defined than Chase's. He had a similar nose, the same shit-eating smirk when it suited him, and the same heather blue eyes. They narrowed, but a fraction of the tension in those shoulders eased.

      “Heard your car doors. It’s 11:13, what the hell are you doing here?”

      “I’m sorry,” Chase hitched Ellie in his arms, who could only cling to her father’s neck. Connor slotted himself next to Chase’s leg, and he rested a hand against his head. “It’s a long story, we had nowhere else to go.”

Chandler sighed and gave an impatient wave for them to come inside. The living room light clicked on to reveal simple décor. A weathered couch, a somewhat dated TV. A solid wood kitchen table. Nothing extravagant, just cozy. Chandler watched as Chase went back to the car trunk, and Ellie tugged at her uncle’s pant leg. His face softened, and he knelt down to her level.

      “What’s wrong, darlin?”

      “Can you fight monsters?”

The trunk slammed shut, and Chase dropped a duffle bag on his coffee table filled with what looked like an anti-home invasion kit. Knives and tools and chemicals. It looked like his little brother had tried to Home Alone someone.

      “Chase, what the f-“

      “I know, and this is going to sound insane, but someone is after me. He put Stacy in the hospital, and he tried to kidnap my kids. I’ll explain everything, I promise, but we all need sleep. We drove from the city.”

The furrowed pinch in Chandler’s face was back, but he heaved a sigh. “Promise me this isn’t you taking the kids from your wife and running.” Chase held out his hand to shake, his eyes hard until it was grasped and shook.

      “I promise.”

      “… Good. You get the couch, these two can have the guest bed if they share. Do they have bags?”

Chase shook his head again, and Chandler sighed. “You owe me the longest explanation tomorrow. Two pots of coffee worth of explanation. C’mon, guys, let’s get you into bed.”

The three sets of footsteps echoed down the hall, and Chase all but collapsed onto the leather couch. He was asleep in moments.

Chapter Text

MA3

      It’s not fair, is it?

Blue eyes snapped open and fell on nothing but darkness. A shaking exhale stirred the night air, and sounded like a gunshot in the crushing silence. The skin of Chase’s palm scrubbed down his face, and it froze at the unexpected texture. Like ash. Dust-coated goosebumps raced down his arms at the unfamiliar sensation. Chase lurched upright and tasted the kicked-up cloud that billowed around him.

The same eerie green glow. Light seemed to emanate from the crumbling walls of Chandler’s cabin, aged like it had been abandoned for a century. Arms and legs slowly separated from the ruined couch and Chase climbed to his feet. The floorboards creaked beneath him like they would give at any moment, and he instinctively stilled. His own breathing felt too loud in his ears, and eyes wide as saucers fell on an open book that beckoned from the kitchen table. The pages looked centuries old, he was worried they’d crumble to ash if he so much as brushed the paper. The words didn’t make any sense – symbols and letters in a language he didn’t recognize. A flash of green made him flinch, and several black lines rippled and melted to form two blazing words.

      “Argentum Inanis?”

A gasp was ripped from Chase’s throat as images seared into his mind’s eye. Knives. Blood. Fire. A doctor. The glitch. Chase in his car, a double of him smiling in the back seat. A man in a white mask holding a black sphere. Just as sudden as the images appeared, they vanished, and Chase was left reeling in the dark.

Piercing red and blue light stabbed into his retinas like needles, and they were slammed shut on instinct as he wrenched away. That same ringing he’d heard last time began to resonate from the windows, the walls, down to the bones in his body. It shook the dust from the rafters, it shattered the panes, it forced his hands over his ears while he fought the urge to scream.

      Get out of my head.

Even his own thoughts were drowned out against that piercing ring. The light shifted from red and blue to green. To black. Shadows broke the shafts of light outside and Chase ducked into a closet without thinking. Something, something was hunting him in this… this upside-down shit. It was his brother’s cabin, just like the gas station had still been the gas station, but it was wrong. It was dark, and broken, and hungry.

      Just let me in.

Chase clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound of his own panicked breathing. Sharp, deliberate footsteps landed across the old wooden floor, one stride at a time and blue eyes watched the single shaft of green light beneath the closet door break into three. The ringing was louder than ever, the entire frame seemed to vibrate under its resonance. The door ripped open, blinding light seared into him, and Chase screamed.

      “HEY!” callused hands seized Chase’s thrashing arms and held him still, “stop, it’s ME, CHASE, it’s ME!”

His eyes opened to find Chandler’s gaze of alarm as his little brother’s fighting finally tapered off. Chase had skittered into the back of that closet, but the world beyond it was intact. Counters, floors and cabinets were not only cared for, but the golden light of dawn was creeping over them. Chase’s heart hammered in his chest as Chandler pulled him out of the closet and to his unsteady feet.

      “… What the fuck are you running from.”

Chase scrubbed both hands over his face and sucked in a deep breath. Every muscle screamed like he’d spent too much time bent in an awkward shape, how the fuck long had he been in that damn closet?

      “Give me a second to check on the kids, and I’ll tell you everything. Get the coffee going, we’re both going to need it.”

He didn’t wait for a confirmation before Chandler was sidestepped and Chase made his way up the stairs. The door to the guest room was cracked open, and the air stilled in his lungs as he slowly pushed it open. Connor and Ellie were both there, sleeping hard, even as light crept over the plaid comforter. They were pale, they needed a decent meal, and Chase had a few crumpled bills left that would hardly buy him the gas he’d need to get back to the suburbs, let alone groceries.

It was a fucking mess. All the way around.

Steam drifted from two massive coffee mugs on the kitchen table. Chandler was already seated, and he gestured pointedly to the empty chair where the second mug stood sentry. A heavy sigh pushed through Chase’s nose and he forced himself to sit. If nothing else, his brother always had good coffee.

      “… Basically,” Chase’s eyes scrunched beneath his hand while he fought for the most palatable way to explain to a rational human being the fantasy nightmare his life had become. “… There’s another version of me that’s a fucking monster from the shadow realm, and it wants to kill me, it tried to kill Stacy, and it tried to take the kids.”

Chandler snorted into his coffee mug and fixed his brother with a look as he swallowed. “Still a fucking comedian. Tell me this isn’t about money, tell me you didn’t borrow from the wrong people-”

      “Chandler, I wish this was about money. I wish I borrowed money from the wrong people. I’m not lying. Ask the kids separately, they’ll tell you the same thing. This… this doppelganger is after me, and I don’t know what it wants. I don’t think it knows what it wants. Charlie told you Stacy was in the hospital, she was in the hospital because it clawed its way inside her, and made her slit her own throat.”

The older man’s expression shifted from annoyed to dubious the more Chase spoke. His gaze looked toward the stairs that led to the kids’ room before it turned back on him.

      “… If you want me to buy this story, and not what I’m very convinced this really is, you better start from day one.”

It took, as requested, two pots of coffee to get through the entire tale. From finding himself on that rooftop to taking his kids from the cryptids and driving straight to the cabin. The strange… upside-down dimension he experienced twice; once awake and once in dream. Chandler poured whiskey into his last cup of coffee and sagged against the kitchen counter in the silence that had slammed in around them.

      “So, I’m your backup plan in case of monsters? A cabin with nowhere to run to if shit goes wrong?”

      “Where else could I go?” Chase threw up his hands in exasperation. “Charlie would have called me crazy and called the cops, and I can’t fucking blame her. I’m just hoping like hell that Stacy will come here.”

Chandler finished his whiskey coffee and set the mug aside with a heavy thud. The kids were in the living room, watching what little TV they had access to out here. Both were still subdued and terrified, but they weren’t scared of Chase. Both kept throwing glances over their shoulders as if to make sure he was still there.

      “This… other you, with the stupid name, we really think he has no idea what he wants?”

      “I don’t know, man, it just. The whole thing feels like a dog chasing cars. First he tries to kill Stacy, then he tries to take my kids, then he decides to try to take over my life? None of that makes sense. None of that feels like a plan.”

Chandler gave a faint shrug and watched Spongebob run across the TV screen in the other room. He hadn’t looked after Connor and Ellie often, but this was the first time he’d ever seen them watch cartoons in silence. Neither had made a noise all morning.

      “Well,” Chandler flipped open the top of his coffeemaker to prep a third pot, “he said you opened the doorway and let him in. So, he’s… a kid loose in a candy store. He’s not supposed to be here. Maybe you’re a target because you can, I don’t know. Feel shit and send him back.”

      “Feel shit,” Chase snorted and rubbed his aching eyes, “been feelin’ a lot of shit, and he’s still here.”

      “Well feel shit harder, then, I don’t know.”

Silence fell heavy again, broken only by the muted antics of Patrick and Squidward in the next room. Chandler took the seat closer to Chase instead, and the younger Brody grimaced as his face was tilted to the side so the elder could inspect his bandages. There’d been no way around telling Chandler about his attempted suicide, it was what started all this.

      “… Charlie told me you didn’t try anything when you were there. We’d both hoped it wasn’t because you’d tried something already. Guess we were wrong.”

      “I’m sorry.” Chase couldn’t meet his gaze. “It felt like I already died. My body just needed to catch up.”

Chandler pushed himself away from the table fast enough to send the chair skidding. Chase knew his brother struggled to translate what he felt into words, but he’d learned to read him over the years. He was hurt, he was angry, and he had every right to be.

      “If I still wanted that, I would have dropped the kids off and left. I need to get through this for their sake, I’m not gonna run.”

Chandler was slow to face him, but his features had softened.

      “Maybe your double is running. He laid low for two years, and didn’t show up until you let the other one in. Right now, the game doesn’t make any sense, but what if there’s other players on the board?”

      “There has to be,” Chase sighed and finished the last of his cold coffee, “you’ve met me, I’m not scary. I’m not threatening. I don’t know how the fuck my lungs turned into a ticket to the underworld. It’s not even every time I scream, either. Unless I’ve been accidentally yeeting people over there instead.”

      “Can we rule that out? We don’t fucking know.” Chandler climbed to his feet and grabbed his car keys, despite the alarm in Chase’s eyes. “I’ll be back. I don’t have enough food for all of you, and they’ve seen enough blood without watching Uncle Chandler skin something for dinner. I’ll be back, as soon as I can.”

There was no arguing. It made sense, and Chandler had made up his mind. Connor and Ellie watched the front door swallow their uncle before both tiny faces turned to Chase in unison. Their father sighed.

      “He’s getting groceries for us. It’s okay, he’ll come back.”

      “What if the monster gets him?”

The couch creaked as the two separated and Chase lowered himself to a seat between them both.

      “Uncle Chandler is going to be fine. The monster doesn’t know him. Besides, I think he could break the monster in half.” It earned him a few muted giggles, and Chase wrapped his arms around them both. What if pulled at him as well. It could very well be that coming here had put a nail in Chandler’s coffin.

      “Dad?” Connor’s voice was small, and his hand tightened on Chase’s arm, “Dad I wanna go in the woods. I think it’s safer there.”

Chase’s eyes lifted to the back windows, where the forest stretched on for what seemed like forever. It was very similar to the woods he’d been ripped from in the first place.

      “I’m not sure it is, bud-”

      “There’s no electricity there! He needs it to be stronger, it’d be more fair!” The quiver in Connor’s voice broke his heart, and Chase didn’t have it in him to shatter it twice. What was worse; telling the kid nowhere was safe, or staying on his own guard while they relaxed for a little while? After a long pause, he nodded.

      “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Both of you use the bathroom now, unless you want to do it outside. We’re not going to go too far, I want to hear when Uncle Chandler comes home.”

Relief washed across the kids’ faces, and they got up to do what they needed to do. Chase checked several closets before he found an old blanket that Chandler probably wouldn’t miss. A shout of grab your tea set and whatever toys you want nearly left his throat before he realized… they didn’t have shit. Connor and Ellie were still in their pajamas from the night they’d been taken. All Chase had was the clothes on his back and what was left in the anti-demon dufflebag.

The weight came crashing down on his shoulders like a tidal wave on a broken dock. What the fuck were they supposed to do? He hadn’t worked since his kids were taken, and although the company had been sympathetic, they wouldn’t keep him on the payroll forever. Ellie and Connor were supposed to be in school, just when the hell would they be able to go back? Stacy had her whole life to put back together, but how? How were any of them supposed to move on from this?

      Does one of us have to die?

Blue eyes slid shut. Chase had never killed anyone, he couldn’t even successfully kill himself. But he didn’t see any version of this where both he and Anti lived, and his family’s lives weren’t collateral. Even if he died and Anti lived, would the demon leave them alone? Would Stacy let it go? Would she hunt the bastard down? His wife was the fiercest woman he’d ever met. Just because she’d be fine without him didn’t mean she wouldn’t want revenge.

God, he just wanted the nightmare to be over.

The trek into the forest was a quiet one. Connor forged ahead with renewed bravery and his love of playing explorer. Chase almost had to leash the kid whenever they went to parks or the beach, he was so prone to running off wherever his imagination led him. Fuck, he’d give anything for this to be just another family adventure. Just a chunk of time infinite for them, carefully scheduled for him, where Ellie could talk to faeries and Connor could hunt for dragons. They were just kids. He’d cut off his arm if it meant they could go back to being kids.

Ellie squeezed his hand, and Chase squeezed right back. The blanket was rolled and tucked under his arm as they followed Connor to a suitable spot in the woods.

      “That’s far enough, bud.” Chase didn’t want to go much farther and risk not hearing Chandler’s truck rattle up the driveway. It wasn’t like he could text him where they were, or just leave a note. Connor reluctantly came back as the blanket was spread over the widest patch of ground, and Ellie wasted no time settling down on it. Chase laid down beside her and nodded toward the surrounding trees. “You can look around, Connor, just stay close. Don’t go where you can’t see us, okay? Even if it’s just back to the house.”

      “Okay, dad.” Apparently ‘stay safe’ didn’t apply to trees, because the boy decided to start climbing the nearest one. “AY. You can stay on that branch, but no higher. The nearest hospital is all the way back the way we came, be careful.”

Connor nodded and got comfy on his perch. Chase wondered with guilt if he was playing, or standing watch. Ellie hummed something soft under her breath as she gathered dandelions one by one to start making into a crown. The trees whispered in the wind above them, the blanket had somehow softened the ground beneath him, and Ellie’s humming grew distant. The forest dimmed around Chase’s exhausted body, and blue eyes faded behind closed lids. When Ellie turned to give away her crude dandelion creation, she found Chase had fallen asleep.

It came to rest in her lap with a tiny sigh, and she glanced up at Connor in his perch. “Connor, I made this for daddy, but he’s sleeping.”

      “Give it to him later, then.” Connor’s answer was curt, and the boy’s gaze never rested in one place for long, but he felt safer than he had in a long time. Ellie grunted below him, and he looked down to see his sister attempting to climb up to his branch.

      “You can’t, you’re too little.”

      “I don’t care. I wanna be up.”

      “The branch will break! You’re too big!”

      “I can’t be TOO LITTLE and TOO BIG that’s STUPID.”

      “Stop, okay!?” Connor huffed, even as the younger of the two was forced to give up, “stay down there, protect dad. We’re playing king and knight.” That seemed acceptable. Ellie put her dandelions over Chase’s hat and grabbed two decent-sized sticks to swing. One for both of them. She stretched as far as she could to hand Connor his.

      “Is the monster the dragon?”

      “Yeah. But we’re the best knights ever, we protect the king.”

Ellie nodded. If the monster showed up, he’d get her mighty sword and more. Their dad had protected them, it was their turn to protect him.

Closest thing to a grocery store in reasonable driving distance from the cabin was the nearest gas station. Chandler knew Carol was going to be surprised to see him back so soon, but oh well. It wasn’t like he’d never made a mistake taking inventory before.

Two baskets of food, extra toilet paper and soap felt like a good start. Three toothbrushes and two tubes of paste. Their clothes section was pitiful, but he found two t-shirts and sweatpants that looked like they’d fit his niece and nephew. He was paying cash, and Carol hated cops. She wouldn’t say a word if anyone asked why his hermit ass was buying kids clothes for family he hadn’t seen in forever.

      “Hey Chandler! Feels like I just saw you,” Carol’s laugh lines crinkled with her warm smile as she rang up all his extra food. “Look at all this. Your brother’s in town, isn’t he? Least he could have done was bought some of this himself.”

The hand that reached for a weathered wallet to pay froze before it reached his back pocket.

      “… What makes you say that?”

Carol looked up from bagging his groceries with surprise. “Pretty sure he was here not too long ago. Different jaw line, slimmer build, but he had your eyes and hair color. Kinda weird, if you ask me. Only gas station in miles, but all he bought was paint, batteries and lighters.”

      “Y-yeah he’s a weird son of a bitch. Keep bagging, Carol, I just gotta make a quick call.”

The poor cashier wasn’t given a chance to answer before Chandler turned and all but ran to the payphone outside. It felt so weird to dial his own fucking landline number, but he had to warn them. The call connected, and his cabin phone began to ring.

A flash of green shot from the receiver, raced along the cord, and disappeared into the machine that was in that moment, a bridge between that gas station and the Brodys.

Chapter Text

1PM

Ring… Ring… Ring…

The phone shrieked into the uncaring silence of the empty cabin. Again and again it rang, desperate to carry out its only purpose in this world. The lights flickered in time with each ring. Pulsing, surging, until the phone all but launched right off the receiver. The cord stretched taut and the phone swung like a hanged man as silence stole over the empty space once more.

In the stillness of the kitchen, a knife slid from the block.

The hands that gripped the steering wheel were numb. It felt like a lifetime had been spent in the confines of that vehicle. It was the walls of a prison, and there was no telling what would be found when the cage finally opened.

The dirt road.

Stacy bolted upright at the stretch of earth that curved away from the asphalt. She’d been to Chandler’s all of what, twice? Maybe? On a normal day she would have just used google maps, but that seemed like a terrible idea. Instead, she had to rely on what felt like a half-remembered dream, but it had gotten her this far.

It still felt like hours before the cabin loomed into view, and with it, a sight that nearly made her sob. Chase’s intact car, parked in the driveway. Her own screeched to a halt beside it, and Stacy barely got both feet on the ground before movement along the tree line caught her attention. It looked like the outline of a man stalking into the forest.

Tears streamed down Ellie’s face, and her grip tightened around the stick. Her small body was planted between her dad and the shifting monster who looked just like him. Colors leached and separated from the world with every step he took. Tree trunks bled gray, grass and leaves seemed to expand, their shadows almost violent shades of green, red and blue. The face was stretched in a wicked grin, his skin took on a staticky cast of green, and his body glitched and writhed. Almost like it had to fight to stay on the path it was walking. Hands flashed and sometimes grabbed at his own throat and hair, his mouth ripped open in a silent scream. It didn’t stop his advance. Those blazing green eyes were locked on Ellie, even as Connor dropped to the ground behind his little sister.

The stick creaked as the little girl shifted her weight. With a howling scream, Ellie swung at the monster with all her might. It met the palm of Anti’s hand with a solid whack and could not be pulled free, no matter how hard she tugged and sobbed. Connor charged with his own stick and a bellow of rage, just to have his world explode with white light and pain as he was backhanded and sent sprawling by the fist that held the knife.

      “NO!!!”

Chase was on his feet at last, and Anti grinned. The static and glitches seemed to intensify with twisted enjoyment at the terror around him. The stick snapped in half and Ellie fell backward from the force of her own pulling.

      “N͟o m͏or͡e g̷ames̴, Brody͡.͜ N͏o͘ ̧mǫŕe ͝f͟u̢c͝ki͘ng ci͝rcle̸s͏, ̴I͝'m ̛SIC͠K O͏F I̛T.”

The distortion seemed to emanate from every inch of the forest. Chase’s eyes burned as his shoulders squared and his hands balled into fists. Ready to fight, despite how insurmountable the odds were against him. To see the double up close… it was horrific. A monster in every sense of the word, but it was him. Despite the untethered glitches, the sheer frenetic energy, it was his own face that stared him down. With a maniacal grin and something else.

      “What do you want from me!?”

      “I ̴havȩ ͞a̶ m͞ésşa͘g͞e͏ ̨to ̵sen̛d̢.”

The world almost seemed to shudder as Anti ripped apart in a blaze of static, and an impossible force punched through Chase’s bicep. He stood, momentarily stunned, until the echo of a gunshot reached his ears.

Ellie’s screaming sounded so distant. A hand reached for the wound and slick warmth met his fingers. Connor was crumpled like a toy across the blanket, Ellie was wrapped around a leg and there, sprinting toward the tree line with a gun in hand. Stacy. Her wild, wide-eyed look was the last thing he saw before a heavy blow to the sternum threw him to the dirt.

With the impact, the world sharpened with alarming clarity. Chase’s body had realized an actual hole had been ripped through him, and the pain was staggering. A dulled flash of silver caught his attention off to his right, just in time for two hands to wrap around his neck and squeeze.

      “I̧'M N͡OT DONE͡ W͠I͞TH ỲO͟U, YE͘T́-”

      “LEAVE DADDY ALONE!”

Anti grunted as Ellie seized one of his arms to pull it away from Chase’s neck, and he threw her off in one sweep. The half a chuckle at her wasted effort was severed as the knife flashed over his own throat.

A cascade of crimson poured into Chase’s mouth and nose, and the blade trembled in his whitened grip. Anti gurgled and choked, his green eyes wide with shock and, for the first time, fear. Both hands clamped over the wound but blood trickled defiantly between his fingers. Teeth bared, Chase worked a foot against Anti’s chest and kicked him off. For a frightening moment, his shoe had glitched inside the demon before the body solidified and the blow pushed it into the dirt.

The family gathered to watch the nightmare slowly die. Connor had stirred and managed to sit up. Ellie had her tiny hands clamped over the blood seeping down Chase’s arm. Stacy trained the gun on Anti’s writhing form and Chase seethed beneath the blood and waves of pain. True color bled back into the world as the glitch’s influence waned, receding into his dying body like the tide pulling back to sea. His eyes never left Chase’s, even as they dimmed, and the entire body turned to static. It lingered a moment before, like ash in the wind, Anti was gone.

All four of them stared at the empty, bloodstained earth where the demon had been before a fresh spasm of pain wrenched a howl from Chase’s throat. Stacy threw the gun aside and pulled both him and the kids into her arms.

      “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It became a tearful mantra. Connor’s eyebrow was bleeding where the edge of Anti’s knife had gotten him on the back swing. Ellie was scraped and bruised from being thrown. Chase was pale and shaking from the gunshot, and he buried his face in Stacy’s shoulder with a broken exhale that could have been a laugh.

      “You fucking shot me, and I’m just glad you’re here. Whose gun is that!?”

      “Found it in your brother’s room.” Stacy held them all a selfish moment longer before she withdrew to pull Chase’s uninjured arm over her shoulder. “Come on, we have to get you to a hospital right now. Where’s Chandler?”

Chase grit his teeth as he was pulled to his feet. “Buying food for us. Should be back a-any minute. Check o-on the kids, Stace, I can walk.”

He turned his back to wipe the blood from his face with his ruined shirt. It felt like he was wearing more crimson than cotton. The beat-up truck rattled up the driveway, and he heard Chandler’s shouts in the distance. Tense, frightened. Stacy yelled something back that he couldn’t quite make out until it morphed into his name. Questioning, then screaming. Chase, his back still turned to them all, lifted his eyes from the shirt to meet blazing green.

Like a second mouth, blood welled from the slit in Anti’s neck. The demon grinned all the wider, and two icy hands clamped on either side of Chase’s face.

      “I̕ ͟K̀̕NO̷͘W y͠oų̡'̨r̡̕͠e̵̴͟ ̡ẃ̸a͠t͞c͟hi̡͟͝n̸̡g.̡” ͞

The vlogger’s mouth fell open in a silent howl as both their eyes turned black as the void itself.

      “T̡͘̕h͟͡is͏ ́į̶s̷̕ ͢M̕͟Y WO͢R̵̨̨Ĺ̨͘Ḑ, ̛n̛͘o͜͢w͡.̕ ̷̢I ͝w̸̕ò͠n͠'̷t ̶͠b̸e̴̢̛ ͜y̢ơ͜͠u̡͟r PU̧P̧͘ṔE̛Ţ͝.͢ ̨T̕H͜͝E̶̛͟R͞͠É ͜AR̵È͟ NO͏ ͏ST͢͢RI̧NǴS͝

             O̶̢N

                    M̀͢È̡͢͜!̨̕"̛̛͏̡́

Chandler and Stacy ran for all they were worth. Anti spared them the briefest grin of victory before his body glitched apart and Chase fell to his knees. They nearly reached him before the hairs on the back of Stacy’s neck stood on end, and she used all of her weight to stop herself and Chandler short.

They watched as Chase climbed to his feet, one disjointed lurch at a time. The bullet wound in his arm shrank until it healed completely, and his spine straightened to his full height. The eyes that met them were blazing green, and he smiled.

      “You son of a BITCH!” It was Chandler’s turn to hold Stacy back, but she couldn’t help it. She’d lived it. Helpless to watch as the demon wore her, and now her husband, like a fucking suit. Chase was in there, kicking and screaming, just like she had been the night Anti had cut her throat.

      “You could have stopped me… but you just watched.” Anti turned over Chase’s hands for inspection, and the green of his eyes faded to familiar heather blue. “Oh, It’s different when you’re wearing yourself. Almost cozy.”

      “Let him go,” Chandler snarled through his hold on Stacy, “he can’t do any of the shit you can, what good is he to you!?”

Chase’s face snapped up with unnatural speed. Blood was just starting to dry across his skin, and Anti turned his gaze to both of them in turn.

      “Ì͘͝ ͜g̨̧u͡eś̴͘s̛ ͞y̢ou̸̶͝'̢̕͜l̸̛l n̕e̛̛v́͜e̕̕r̴ ͟k͟͝n͢ow̧.”

Between one blink and the next, Chase was gone. Stacy threw herself where he had stood as if she could stop it with her own two hands. Chandler stood transfixed, eyes wide and muscles locked on the empty space his brother had been a moment ago. Behind them both, the children began to scream.

Narrations were soft as the bandages were changed, describing the minute details of the task. The Host was relaxed, as relaxed as his warped body could be, as the other strange entity worked. The words were ignored until they were cut mid-sentence, and the man went unnaturally still. Void watched as his head tilted back, and for a brief moment, light was allowed to shine in the dark recess where his left eye used to be.

      “… The Host was wrong.”

Chapter Text

2PM

Time slowed to a crawl in the confines of that cabin. Stacy had no memory of leaving the bloodstained ground where her husband had been, but she must have. The couch beneath her was soft, and the mug in her hands was cold.

All those years spent in fear it would be depression that tore her husband from this world. Instead, it was a demon, wearing Chase like a second skin.

Brown eyes slid shut, and silent tears coursed down her face. No, no this was worse. Chase wasn’t gone, he was buried in his own mind. Bound and gagged and forced to watch his own hands hurt and kill and destroy. If they couldn’t separate the two soon, Chase would shatter. He was lucid now, but for how long? How had they fucked up so bad that the universe was playing Schrödinger’s cat with her own husband?

If Chandler tried to talk to her at all, Stacy hadn’t heard it. She was empty and numb, held underwater with no instinct to breathe. Waiting for what, she couldn’t know. It wasn’t until Ellie burrowed her way against her side that Stacy’s arm twitched like a statue come to life, and wrapped around her daughter.

      “M’sorry,” Ellie’s voice was rough with tears, and she clung all the tighter, “m’sorry I couldn’t save Daddy…”

That burned away the fog in an instant. The world sharpened back into focus, and Stacy put the mug down to wrap Ellie tight.

      “Baby girl, it’s not your fault. Mommy and Uncle Chandler couldn’t stop him, either. You were so, so brave for trying. Both of you.” Brown eyes raised to meet Connor’s, and her son scooted away from Chandler to join the hug. “It’s no one’s fault but the monster’s. It’s not yours.”

Both her children were crying, weeping, and Stacy wept with them. They had no idea where the bastard had taken Chase, and no clue how to separate them if they were found. It felt so fucking helpless. He was good, to his absolute core, Chase was a good person. Nevermind the mistakes, the flaws, the fights… god, she’d give anything just to have another pointless argument. To not sit through this funeral for a man who was still alive.

Ellie’s voice crackled through between the tears, and Stacy willed her own to slow.

      “What, honey?”

      “We can ask my friend and the scary man. They have to help.”

      “… What?”

Ellie may as well have been speaking French for all she was comprehending. Connor’s eyes were wide with hope, and that was enough to try to pull the pieces together.

      “You… you mean your imaginary friend?”

      “They’re not imaginary, Mom, they’re not! They’re real, and so is the scary man! They saved us from the monster!”

Stacy took in a deep breath and held both their hands.

      “Tell me what happened.”

It took tears and stumbled words, but both kids recounted being taken away from the house during Anti’s attack, by Ellie’s apparently not imaginary friend, and a man with no eyes. Chandler was in the background pouring yet another drink, and Stacy waved emphatically for one of her own.

      “… You two were missing for days, but you just woke up and Daddy was there?”

      “He was,” Connor nodded, “he took us to Uncle Chandler’s after the scary people saved us.”

      “Why… why did the scary people save you?” Stacy accepted the poured drink from Chandler, and drained it in four gulps. The burn it carved on the way down was the first thing that felt real since Chase had been taken.

      “Because Void is my friend. I want them and their friend to come save Daddy.” Ellie looked around the room in a silent dare, but nothing happened. Connor straightened up with determination.

      “Mr. Host, we need help to find Daddy. We’re at Uncle Chandler’s house, so find us.”

      “The shaky monster has him! He didn’t take us, he took Daddy!”

It was too much, watching angry, heartbroken children plead with air. His little brother was gone, or as good as. In a twisted way, they’d prepared for it. Stacy, himself, and his sister, Charlie. Ever since that week Chase had spent in Charlie’s care, barely existing, all three of them had braced in silence for a day like this. When they’d each get to wonder what they could have done different to save a man who was already gone. Chandler threw back the rest of his drink and lowered the empty glass to find two people standing in his living room.

       “The Brodys are alarmed at the sudden appearance of the Host and Void, and he apologizes for the intrusion. He stresses that they are not here to cause the family any harm. Chandler Brody is advised to leave the gun where it is.”

The hand that had clenched around the grip of the gun in his waistband tightened, but it did not move. Stacy’s arms were locked protectively around her children, but Ellie worked herself free to wrap her arms around a leg of the smaller intruder.

A man of medium height and build, cloaked in a trench coat, with bloodstained bandages wrapped around his eyes. The other was shorter and smaller, skin so pale it almost looked translucent, with half a head of white hair and a thick pair of red goggles. But the leather that wrapped around their shoulders was familiar.

      “… Is that… is that Chase’s jacket? How did you get that!?”

The demon didn’t answer. The goggles were locked on the blind man, and their mouth was pressed in a thin line.

      “I gave it to them,” Ellie tugged at a leather-wrapped arm and earned an instinctive jerk at the contact, “you have to help Daddy. The monster took him, please help Daddy!”

      “The Host reminds Void that the goal is to stop the very entity that has overtaken Chase Brody.”

      ­”How,” the other countered, their voice like iron, “we’re no closer than we were before he got possessed. You wanted to play this careful.”

      “He wanted to play this careful before Anti obtained a connection to the void through the man he now controls. Priorities have shifted, the timeline has changed, the time to act is now.”

Stacy took a step back as a red haze stole over the white-haired demon, and their outline seemed to blur at the edges. It was like looking at someone through layers and layers of glass, each one reflecting a different angle. Chandler was alarmed enough to have his gun at the ready, but he did not fire.

      “I don’t want to have this fight. Not here.”

      “The Host doesn’t want it to be a fight. Void knew his quarry from day one.”

That haze shimmered darker with the tightening of their jaw and the faintest turn of their head. Ellie’s hands tugged at the demon’s arm again, and the goggles were met with reddened eyes and coursing tears. Ellie was too overwhelmed to form the words, and her young face crumpled with the hitch of her lungs. Stacy held her hands up in a show of good faith before she gently lifted her daughter and held her close.

      “We don’t have much, but we’ll find a way to pay. We’ll think of something, please.”

      “Shelter would be enough for now. The Host and Void will require time to plan and prepare. With permission, we would like to see the scene of the attack.” That drew confused eyes from Stacy and Chandler, but neither were brave enough to ask. His friend said nothing, and the Host let himself be led out the back door and into the grass beyond.

      “… I-”

      “The Host knows Void does not want to rush into this fight with Anti, though he questions why his friend is so resistant to the very idea.”

      “Because I think we’ll lose more than we win if we’re not ready.”

The ground was soft beneath their shoes. It had become habit, letting the Host thread his arm under theirs and be led along when the surroundings were unfamiliar. The simple act sat like lead in Void’s stomach.

      “Anti will not wait until the Host is ready.”

      “Half the time, you can’t even see me.” Void pulled the Host to a halt and blocked his path forward. “Your visions of him are only clear when he’s solid, he won’t be solid in a fight. So, it’d have to be me, and only me. I can’t send a blind man to fight a ghost, and I’m not going to die for Chase Brody.”

The Host’s head tilted, and they knew he was taking in the scene through his own unnatural form of sight. Blood had begun to trickle beneath the bandages, and his lips quirked into a joyless smile.

      “As darkness gathers like never before behind the lenses of their goggles, Void realizes they can see.”

Confusion hung in the air in the moment that followed. Then a hand lurched up in alarm to meet leather as the world was plunged into dim light. Darkness had only ever guaranteed their vision, not robbed it, and the implications caused their pulse to quicken. “What did you do.” The words were seethed as Void stepped away from Host’s obscured outline. Slowly, pale hands pushed the leather up and away from eyes that were no longer swallowed by black. The mirrored lenses trembled as they were turned to find brown irises staring back, ringed by white sclera.

      “What did you DO.”

The grass and leaves were a vibrant shade they couldn’t name if they tried. Host had never looked so… vivid. There were colors to him that Void had never seen before, not to that severity. The coat wasn’t a washed-out gray, it had… warmth to it. His skin had warmth. His cheeks were almost illuminated beneath black stubble, but they paled in comparison to the bright line that seeped from beneath the bandages. Void wasn’t foreign to blood, but never had it commanded their gaze the way it did now. They were even more shocked to find the same shade reflected in the goggles that lived almost permanently on their own face.

Void’s slow, careful hand reached out to swipe the blood away. It clung with contrast to their fingers, and for a long moment, they could only stare.

      “What… color is this?”

      “… Red.” They started as a bandage from the Host’s pocket pressed over the blood, and a faint smear of it was left behind. “It is the color of Void’s smoke when they teleport, and the lenses they use to shield from the brightness of this world. It is the color the Host has come to associate with his friend. He has given them the ability to see it, to show he is far from helpless. He can both narrate reality and bend it to his will.”

The Host’s hands raised to pull the goggles back over their eyes, but both his wrists were caught.

      “Wait, just… wait.”

Foreign brown eyes turned to the forest around them. There were so many… colors. The world wasn’t layers of gray, it was vibrant. It was alive.

      “Is it always like this?”

      “The natural world changes with the seasons, but every season has its own colors. This is not the hollow dimension Void is named after. It is a living, breathing thing, filled with billions of stories still to tell. The Host is empowered by them. He will not fall to the demon, as his friend fears. He understands that fear, and shares it for his companion.”

Void was grateful their gaze was turned away, not that it was ever truly hidden from the Host. With a heavy sigh, the goggles were affixed back over their eyes, he was given a small nod. A few murmured words later, and the world looked as it always had to the wraith.

      “… If you can do that, why can’t you bring your double across the veil yourself? Narrate him into existence?”

The Host’s gaze dropped, and he pushed back a few strands of loose hair. “Host’s double in the void of this reality is not the version he left behind. The Host very nearly lost himself tearing into this universe, he is uncertain his friend would survive the same. The double in this universe would be nothing more than a dangerous stranger. As greatly as he misses his old companion, he will not risk his life for it. Not without the right circumstance.”

      “Right,” Void’s gaze fell instead on the pool of dried blood that would never again be red. “… Walk me through the vision. We need to know where he went.”

The world was damp and cold. The air was stagnant, and a hurt groan was pulled through cracked lips. The side of his face was plastered to cold concrete, and the scent of water damage filled his nose. A sliver of blue appeared beneath one heavy lid, but it was slow to open.

Chase was lying on the floor of an empty industrial building. Hulking frames of machinery loomed around him, but he couldn’t hazard a guess what they were for. Nothing in the room commanded his attention more than the pounding in his own skull.

Slowly, an arm drew in and braced against the damp floor. It took more effort than Chase cared to admit to push himself upright and take stock of the world around him. Dirty windows, sprawling catwalks. His first instinct was a factory, but the sound of surging water was an outlier. It sounded like rapids nearby, and he was too groggy to make sense of it.

A florescent light flickered in the darkness, and memory flooded back with alarming clarity. A frantic hand wiped at his face and came away with flecked blood. Chase was still caked in it. Both hands scrubbed his face and neck raw, desperate to rid himself of Anti’s blood. He remembered screaming for Stacy and Chandler to run, so he wouldn’t have to watch his own hands rip the life from their bodies. The world had gone dark after that.

      So why can I move now?

Chase was in full control of his own body. His own mind. He couldn’t feel a trace of the glitch, but that brought him no comfort. He’d been left here for a reason.

Any footsteps that might have echoed through the room were swallowed by the sound of water. The building looked abandoned, but not quite decaying yet. Sporadic lights still flickered, in and out, in and out. Like the power was unstable. Chase’s gaze fell on the glitching red glow of an exit sign, and he picked up speed with caution. Tension knotted his back at every tiny sound, every disturbed patch of dust, anything that might alert Anti. It felt like an eternity before he reached the door, but no amount of pushing would budge it. Frustrated, Chase craned his neck to peer through the small window in the door. A concrete stairwell that lead up greeted him, along with the glassy eyes of a corpse.

The shock streaked like lightning through Chase’s body, and he threw himself back from the door. His heart hammered in his chest, a hand clamped over his mouth, and it was a fight to push himself back to that window. Crumpled at the bottom of the stairs was a security guard. Middle aged, if he had to guess. A ghost of fear was still frozen on his face, and with a closer look, Chase felt ice spread from his heart through his veins.

Like a second mouth, blood painted the severed muscles of his throat.

Chapter Text

The only way forward stretched even deeper into the building. Chase clenched his fists to still the shake of his hands and made his cautious way through the dark. The overhead lights still occasionally flickered, but his one true companion was the echoing rush of water. It sounded like a river, or a waterfall pounding over concrete. Every step carried him closer to the source. It stirred an odd flutter of hope in his chest. Maybe the water was his salvation. Chase was a decent swimmer, if he could keep from drowning, it would carry him far away from this place. Away from him.

Doors were tried, any he found. Most were locked, only one yielded when he tried the handle. It was a storage room, stuffed with filing cabinets. It looked neat enough, just dusty, and again Chase wondered just how long this place had been empty.

      Where the fuck am I?

A searching glance was cast down both sides of the hallway before he ducked inside. Even with the door closed, the muffled sound of rushing water still came through as he pulled open the nearest cabinet drawer. It was all but empty, like someone packed its contents and left. One old memo was left behind, and Chase held it up to the flickering light.

JACKSON HYDRO DAM

June 30, 2017

ATTN: All employees

We are aware of the ongoing issues in our electrical systems and equipment, and are attempting to resolve them. Please refer to the new subcategory for these specific disruptions when sending tickets and reports to IT and Maintenance. The two departments are working to their fullest capacity, but standard tickets are being lost under the influx. It is our highest priority to keep Jackson Hydro Dam operating at peak efficiency, and we appreciate the employees who bring any flickering lights or malfunctioning equipment to our attention. We just ask that you please adhere to the new system of logging these issues.

Sincerely,
Management

Chase’s brow furrowed, and he left the paper behind. A clipboard with a scrawled-on, informal log book sat forgotten on a bare shelf, and he held it up to the light. At first glance, it didn’t look like a standard procedure log – more like people keeping tabs themselves.

7/17/17: Sam investigated a report of a violent computer error. Then he handed me his keys and badge and left. Computer rebooted fine, more efficiently than most. Starting to think this place is haunted. -JJ

7/19/17: Rooms B9-13 lost power, attempting to restore it. -EM

7/23/17: Computer monitor cracked while in use. WW said it was an accident. I might take it apart in my spare time just to see what the hell happened. It looks like it was cracked from the inside. -EM

7/24/17: Tried to fix the lights in corridor 12. A door was open, and I swear I saw a face in one of the computers right when the light I was working on blew up in my face. JJ’s right, this place is haunted. -GS

7/27/17: I can’t do this anymore. Checked a surge and outage in sector 2, and I heard someone LAUGHING at me in the dark. I know I’m not crazy. You guys know I’m not crazy. Every second I spend in this place feels like I’m being watched or followed. I didn’t sign up for this shit. -GS

8/3/17: I don’t know what to do. I hate admitting that, but I don’t. Shit is finally working. Green lights across the board. But there’s still nooses around our necks because we don’t have an explanation for why we’re producing a third of the power output that ALL THE MATH says should BE THERE. Where the fuck is it going? Where the FUCK is it GOING? I’ve run the calculations, checked every inch of this facility, I’m going out of my god damn MIND. -EM

8/4/17: Overheard that the utility board is sending in its own team to investigate. Right now, the cost to run this place is more than the output. One more blackout, and we’re getting shut down. Can’t say I’ll miss Jackson, but I’ll miss you guys. -JJ

The hairs on the back of Chase’s neck were raised as the clipboard was returned to the dusty shelf. Nothing he could find in that room was dated more recently than two years prior. Of course, none of it could be something helpful like a map with a big arrow that pointed the way out of this place. He couldn’t fight the skin-crawling sensation that his every move was being watched.

      Focus. Find a way out.

Chase drew a deep breath and pressed on. His one friend was still the sound of rushing water, but at least it made sense now. Peering his way through the dark with just the occasional light flicker was doing wonders for his headache. Even if he had a flashlight, Chase didn’t think he’d be brave enough to give his presence away.

Bright painted block letters on the wall indicated he was on his way to the generator. It felt useless to hope there might be a way out on the other side, but where else could he go? It was either try, or eventually starve. Hopeless as it was, Chase knew Stacy and Chandler were trying to come up with something to get him back. The least he could do was meet them halfway.

Blood pounded in his ears while he pushed open one of the double doors that led into the generator room. It swung without too much noise or protest, and he was greeted with an expansive space. A large, elevated cylinder sat in the middle of it, and he could hear sluggish, churning components within. The sound of water was loudest in that room, and Chase moved no further.

      Exit, where the fuck’s an EXIT.

A door across the way was crowned by the faint glow of a red sign. It was hard not to feel a surge of hope. He wanted out of that dam. Hell, he’d take being swept downstream over spending another minute in that doomed facility. The lights almost glowed brighter as he approached the exit door, and they welcomed his departure from their concrete prison. His fingertips had barely grazed the push bar when an icy hand clamped around the back of his neck like iron. Chase’s entire body seized. It felt like a current had locked every muscle in place as he was reeled in and brought face to face with Anti.

      “Yo͏u d͠i̸dn't̨ th̛i̵ņk͝ ͝it̴ ̴wo̷u̸ld ͡bȩ ͏t͜hat ea̡s͏y, ̧did͞ y͠o̸u?̷”

The current dropped, and Chase dropped with it.

Rushing water was even louder in Chase’s ears, but it was the feel of his hands moving on their own that dredged him to consciousness.

His body was bent over the concrete floor. Chase’s hand dipped into a large bottle of what he recognized as paint. Something cheap, black and viscous

The concrete was rough against his fingers as Chase was helpless to watch his hand paint a crude symbol – one of many that ringed a scrawled circle. Larger symbols crisscrossed the center of it, but they looked long dried from what little he’d glimpsed. Chase tried to focus on any of them, but with no control over his eyes, he looked where Anti looked. All he managed to take in from the bizarre project was the symbol still forming beneath his hand. Just sharp lines and shapes that would connect every so often. Nothing he could recognize.

      “You’ll hurt your brain if you keep trying.”

Chase would have jumped if he had any agency over his own body. Anti’s voice was nowhere to be found – the words that came from his mouth sounded like Chase himself had said them. Anti smeared the excess paint on Chase’s jeans and capped the container.

       What the fuck is that?

      “Oh, you have bigger things to wor͏r͡y͏ a̶b̶òut."

In a staticky blink, Chase found his hands braced against the line of consoles in the control room, where a wall of glass showed the massive cylinder and painted circle below. Anti said nothing as buttons were pressed, commands were typed, and the sound of water swelled to a roar around them. Every flickering light in the room flared with steady power, and alarms began to sound within the confines of the control room.

       What are you doing!?

 Chase was offered no answer. His body was steered out of the control room and over the catwalk almost directly in front of the painted circle below. The entire facility seemed to groan as red lights began to flash in time with the warning shriek of a siren. His gaze was wrenched from the circle toward the concrete wall behind them, and without warning, Chase’s arm glitched straight through it. Even in his mind, he gasped as his hand pressed against thick bands of corded metal on the other side, and a familiar shock lanced through his body. Yet, this time… this time, it wasn’t painful.

      “… Yo͘u͞'r͏e ̡súp͠po͜sed ͠t̨o̢ ̨b̕e ̷screamin͝g,̵ C̕h̷a͢s͝ey̕ ̢b͞oy̧.́ ̕I̸ n̷e̶ed tḩo̶s̷e lưn̵g̕s ͢òf ̀y̵o̧urs̵.”

 A broken laugh echoed through their shared mind. It was almost poetic. Whatever the fuck Anti was trying to do, he’d fucked it up. Right at the finish line.

       As long as you’re wearing me, electricity doesn’t hurt, dumbass. And I’ll die if you hook me up instead.

A heavy sigh was felt, more than heard, over the siren and the steady roar. The sound of strained metal grew louder, and Anti looked back to find trails of water streaming from the rivulets of the giant cylinder.

      “F̷in̕e. ̶P̵la͟ņ B͟.̶”

The stolen kitchen knife flashed from Chase’s belt loop and plunged into his own gut. Blinding pain stole the air from his lungs as they doubled over, but with a vicious turn of the knife inside his body, agony was carved into sound, and it burst from Chase’s throat. The pain, the terrifying loss of control, the blaring siren, the surge of water, all of it drowned the strange chant in the back of his mind. Electricity lanced into every cell, every atom of him, and Chase’s eyes were forced to watch the painted circle glow a sickly green.

Static and electrical arcs shot between the different symbols of the circle as the room was swallowed by a new sound. A strange hum that emanated from every crack and corner, and it swelled as the circle brightened. It took on a searing green before it all culminated in a thundercrack that exploded the lights above. Sparks showered from the ruined bulbs onto the back of a cloaked and hooded man crumpled in the middle of the circle.

A feral grin stretched uninvited across his face, and Chase felt the knife rip out of his abdomen. A foreign desire to plunge it into the neck of the summoned man tingled every nerve, but Anti didn’t move. Whether it was kindness or distraction, the stab wound closed of its own accord, and the man on all fours looked up.

Beneath a black hood, Chase saw what looked like half of a feline mask crafted with green energy. There were long strands of disheveled hair that had escaped the hood, and the eyes beneath the mask were entirely black. For a moment, the stranger’s bared teeth vanished with visible confusion.

      “… It’s you?”

     “Gu͡es̕s ͞a͘g͡a̶í̶̧ń͞.͢͢”

As if kicked in the back, Chase lurched over the catwalk railing and onto the concrete below. It wasn’t a fatal drop, but the impact still sent stars racing past his eyes. His vision swam with his labored attempt to sit back up, and Chase was brought face to face with… himself.

The spectral cat mask had faded, and the blackness of the man’s eyes receded to a familiar heather blue. The man climbed to his feet when pain drew another hurt noise from Chase, but it looked like he’d walked into glass. The circle flared with green light at his feet, and the doppelganger moved no further.

      “You-” his gaze lifted to Anti, “you used him to summon me!?”

      “You ͘bro̵u͝gh͟t t͡his o͏n y͠ou͜r͟se͘lf, ̕m̡ag͡ìci͜aņ.̸”

The last word was spit like a curse, and it was consumed by the blaring siren. Water had begun to seep from the cylinder and spread across the floor. The metal above creaked as Anti stepped forward to brace against the railing, and Chase’s own blood dripped from the knife to splatter across his shoes. Despite the unbroken skin beneath the tattered and bloody t-shirt, the slit in Anti’s throat looked fresh as ever.

      "Look w̷h̡ere ͟you͟r͡ lit͟tle ̀t͟r̴ic͞k̸s ́h̕av̀e g̕o͡tten ̷y̷oų. R̡iǵht ͡where̸ ̷I w̸a͘n̢tȩd̢ y̨ou̴."̢     

      “I shouldn’t be here,” the magician snarled, and his anger revealed a different accent from both of them. “YOU shouldn’t BE HERE. Do you have ANY IDEA what this could unravel!?”

The knife hit the railing with a clang of metal that echoed over the cacophony around them.

      "͟͠T͟h̷̀i̛͏s̛ í̧͝s̛ ̧a̢l̨̛͠l̷̵̵ ̴̨Y̷O̶UR̡͢ ̵F̛̛A͝U͏̴Ĺ͏͝T̀̕.̀ ̀Y̢O͢U s͟͏̢e͡t̡ ͢th̕͢é̵͜ ͡b͏̨al̷ļ ͞ŗ̡ǫl̡͏͞l̡i̵̡͞ņ̛͢g̴,̶͝ ̵͏Y̴O͏U̡͠ ͝l͞e͜͜t͢ ḿ͢e̶ ̡̛o͠u̵͟ţ̸.͏ ͜I̛͞ ̧͟wo̵̕n͝'̷t͝ ͜͏l̕è̛ţ̛ ̢̀͜y̵͟͟o̢u̧ ṕ͞uṕpe̷͢͜t̕ ͟͠mȩ̢͝ b̧ac̀k ͠i̷͝n͘͝.̷"

Water suddenly shot from a busted rivulet, and began to pool on the floor in earnest. Chase skittered to his feet against the tide and Anti flashed the blade toward him.

     "Tell t͢hȩ ̡we̶ake̡s͠t o̷̝̒f ̶̟̈́ų̴̃s̷ w̕hy h̷e̸ ̕has͜ ͠to̸ ́d̛ie. A̢lļ y̶o̴u h͝ad ͠tó d͜ó was lįv̶e̛ ̸wi͘th ͏yoùr ͝own̸ mis̛tak͞e͠s͢.͠"̸

      “This is going to harm more than the two of us, can’t you see that!? Let me out of here so I can FIX IT!”

The magician’s hands radiated with green energy, but it flickered and died with a flare of the circle that had long since sunk beneath the water. There was fear in his eyes when they lifted to the demon’s.

      "̛Hol͘d̴ y̕ơu̕r ͟b̧r͜e͟ath̸ ͏a͘s͢ lo͏ng ̨a̷s ͡y͜o̡u ́c̵a̡n. I w͞an̕t to ̀kno̡w͡ y͏ou̸ d͞i̛ed sl̕ow͠.̨"͘

With a blaze of static and the roar of caving metal, Anti was gone. Water surged from the yawning gap in the cylinder, and it showed no sign of slowing. Again, the magician tried to break the circle, this time with his hands, but there was an incensed howl of pain when his skin made contact. The water was already up to their thighs, and pleading, frantic eyes locked on Chase.

      “We can unpack this when we get out of here, help me!”

So, so many questions burned in Chase’s throat. Was Anti right, and he was looking at the person who was really responsible for the worst days of his life? If he let him die, he’d never know.

      “Fuck.” Chase sloshed forward against the tide and pulled the clip of keys from his pocket. One of the useless ones he should have gotten rid of months ago was flipped teeth side down, and began to saw at the ring of the painted circle. Water lapped into his mouth and nose before he gave up and ducked his head beneath the surface. Only the red flashes from the alarm system showed where it lay on the concrete floor. His lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, but with a few more swipes, the circle flashed a vivid green and the magician’s hands tugged him back to the surface.

A deep inhale forced air back into his strained lungs. The other man didn’t wait to pull him toward the catwalk stairs, and it was all Chase could do to stuff the keys back in his jeans. Water made his clothes heavy and the aches even more apparent as the mirrored pair clawed their way to higher ground. The surge was deafening in that enclosed space, and the cloaked man was all but dragging Chase along.

      “I don’t know how much longer we have before that gives-”

The magician’s words died in his throat as a scream of metal freed the base of the cylinder from the floor. Like a tidal wave, water exploded from the opening with staggering force. Both men threw a horrified look back and ran for all they were worth toward the exit. The end of the catwalk looked miles away as the entire thing shuddered and groaned beneath them. Wet shoes smacked against perforated metal and threatened to slide out from under them. Water surged like something alive, and it sounded like every drop in the fucking dam was lapping at their heels.

Chase was faster than the other man. The exit door loomed ahead as water reached their shoes, and he threw his entire body weight against the push bar. Chase burst through the doorway running until he heard the sound of it slamming shut behind him. A glance was stolen over his shoulder and he watched the magician press both hands against the heavy door. Green symbols flickered and then blazed to life across the metal, and they flared even brighter with the impact on the other side. The door still groaned against the weight behind it, and Chase slowed his sprint the barest amount needed for his doppelganger to catch up.

      “How long’s that gonna hold?”

      “Not long enough.”

With a flourish, the man swept his arm forward and a spectral green cat leapt from his hand in a graceful arc ahead of them. It glanced back just long enough for Chase to see what looked like card symbols on its forehead, and then it was gone like a comet in the flashing red of the dying facility.

      “Follow him!”

The door blasted off its hinges behind them, and Chase ran at a dead sprint along the glowing green path. His world had shrunk to the oncoming water and the twists and turns of green. Up these stairs. Through this hallway. In this room. His muscles ached. His lungs screamed. He climbed metal rungs drilled into concrete. The ghostly cat batted at his face as Chase heaved himself onto some kind of roof, and fresh air was in his throat for the first time since Anti had taken him. The dam itself was to their left, seemingly undamaged, but water was roaring out of every crack and crevice of the building below. Their would-be tomb, if Anti had gotten his way.

Chase collapsed onto his back from the vacuum the adrenaline had left behind, and the magician sank to his knees. Both their chests heaved from the sheer exertion of their escape before they were finally forced to look at each other. The same shade of blue eyes, both guarded, both wary as they came back down to earth.

      “… Do you have a name? Besides Magician?”

Sopping wet and exhausted, the man pulled long plastered strands of hair off his face.

      “Marvin.”

      “Chase.”

Silence reigned between them as Chase glanced over at the dam wall. It was still holding, and he fought nausea as he rolled to look over the edge of the roof at the building below. Heights had always fucked him up.

      “We have to do something. The dam looks okay, I think he just cranked everything open and left. It’s going fuck shit up downstream if we don’t get it back to normal.”

      “Do you have a degree in civil engineering?”

      “No, asshat, just a compassion for human life.”

Before Marvin could open his mouth, their attention was robbed by a shudder in the facility beneath them. Both men watched, stunned, as the water pouring from the shattered windows slowed. It was like seeing a video with reduced speed, it crawled forward until it stopped, frozen, in mid-arc from the busted openings. A moment of deathly silence stretched across the valley as the entire river grew still. It looked like glass, like resin. Chase and Marvin could have been miniatures in a diorama. He looked to the magician, who could only shake his head no.

Like turning back time, the water began to flow backward into the facility. It defied gravity and reason as it pulled from the river and arched through the same windows it had just escaped from. Slow, and then violent, the water receded from the river with the same intensity it had used to break free. Chase looked back toward the dam and squinted.

At the very top of the wall, silhouetted against the fading light, stood a single man in a trench coat.

Chapter Text

      “Who the fuck is that?”

Chase turned away from the Host’s silhouette and climbed to his aching feet. Every inch of him hurt, and the only distraction from that pain was the thousand and one burning questions for the man beside him.

      “He’s like you, from some other universe. If he’s here, then there’s a teleporting shadow demon not far behind, come on.”

Marvin wasn't quick to yield to the tugging hand on his arm. He watched the man in the trench coat a moment longer before reluctantly following Chase down a steel ladder along the side of the building. The magician made to walk back inside, but Chase yanked him instead toward the woods beyond the facility.

      “No. Keep walking.”

      “There’s a water elemental and a shadow demon, and we’re supposed to just walk away?”

      “Dude, I was just possessed, stabbed and channeled to summon a fucking wizard from another plane of existence. You’re not going anywhere until I know why.”

The magician fell silent as Chase began to trudge through the forest, away from the hydro dam. The vlogger startled as the spectral green cat trotted ahead with dainty steps, pausing on occasion to sniff at a plant or tree. Despite the fact Chase could see through it, the cat behaved like it was very much alive. He was so angry, it hadn’t yet occurred to him that Marvin probably had the power to snap him in half with magic, but still chose to follow along. A fact made evident when two sections of the barbed wire fence around the perimeter yawned open without warning before Chase could tug off his bloody shirt to throw over the barbs.

His companion said nothing until Chase came to a halt in a small clearing. His back hit the widest tree trunk and slid down, and Chase couldn’t hide the fact he was little more than an exhausted pile of adrenaline and spite. Marvin only watched him a wary moment before his aching body lowered to sit on the forest floor as well.

      “… How long were you possessed?”

Chase was again jarred by the sound of his own voice with a different accent. A still-shaking hand scrubbed over his tired face and dropped to the phantom ache in his abdomen.

      “I don’t know. I only saw what he saw, when he let me see. Where are you from?”

Marvin was in the process of tying his hair back when he made a face at the question. Chase could see now that the sides and back of his head were shaved, and it was only the top that was long.

      “The individual universes aren’t exactly catalogued and labeled. They’re meant to remain separate.”

      “I meant what country.”

The magician’s face dipped in realization, and the glare softened into a self-deprecating smile.

      “Sorry. The only interactions I’ve had with… well, myself, were with the bastard who tried to kill us... Ireland. I’m from Ireland.”

What started as an incredulous huff bubbled into a broken laugh. The enormity, the absurdity of it all had caught up to him at last. Chase covered his face with both hands and slowly dragged them down.

      “So, you’re telling me. In the fucking universal lottery. I could have been an Irish wizard. Or a glitch demon. But I spun the wheel, and all my label said was ‘depression.’ I’m fucking nobody. Why am I even part of this shit, I can’t do ANYTHING!”

Chase’s voice swelled in the clearing, and nearby birds took flight.

      “I don’t have magic, I don’t have powers, I don’t have anything but these fucking hands. And lungs that opened portals into the abyss, which I can’t even fucking control! Marvin-”

The vlogger’s voice finally broke, and a hand wrapped over his mouth as Chase’s eyes squeezed shut. He’d been shot, stabbed, possessed, almost drowned – and for what. Silence hung heavy in the air until he heard the shift of the cloak, and Chase let the hand fall away.

      “I need to know. Just what the fuck happened. Two years ago. I never even saw a hint of Anti until a few weeks ago. He didn’t give a fuck about me until I let someone else through. And- FUCK, I hate that sentence. I didn’t LET anyone do ANYTHING. It wasn’t my fucking CHOICE, it was just a THING that HAPPENED. How the fuck did that happen, and how the FUCK did I end up on that ROOF!”

Chase’s gaze finally lifted, but the sheer fatigue in Marvin’s left him almost shocked. Now that he could take a proper look, he could see the stress lines. The dark circles. The weariness etched into every move. For a moment he thought Marvin might be older, but no. Chase hadn’t looked much different two years ago, after he’d tried to kill himself.

      “Chase… I’m sorry.”

That single word hung in the air like a fog, and Marvin couldn’t meet his double’s gaze.

      “… Two years ago, Anti and I weren’t so very different. But I didn’t know of his existence, and he didn’t know of mine. We were two sides of the same coin, both hungry for different reasons. He wanted power, I wanted knowledge. I wasn’t satisfied with my limitations when I knew I could be so much more, I just needed the knowledge.”

      “You wanted power, too.”

      “… I did.”

The ghostly cat sauntered up to rub against Marvin’s knee, but it vanished with a wave of his hand and a shimmer of green. He didn’t seem to want the comfort.

      “I’m part of a larger group of mages. I wanted to be higher in the ranks, but they feared my ambitions, and they weren’t wrong to. I knew in the archives, there was a book and an artifact rumored to give the wielder the ability to manipulate... reality. Maybe even space and time. I thought I could understand all there is in the realm of the arcane if I could just understand this artifact.”  

      “Did you?”

      “No. I never got the chance.”

The sound of the river beyond the woods had tapered off. Maybe it had receded back to normal under the Host’s efforts. Chase was too invested in the magician’s words to care.

      “With the artifact, the iris, I would be able to access Argentum Inanis. The silver void. The sigils would have to be immaculate, and I would be thrown out if they caught me… the ritual was arcane in nature, but the inner chamber of the iris is comprised of antimatter.”

The air stilled in Chase’s lungs, and Marvin drew a shuddering breath.

      “I should have heeded the warnings. I should have taken more time with the ritual, but it felt like I would be caught at any moment. Something went wrong. I didn’t just see into the void, I saw… all of us. Him, you, myself… a surgeon. I caught a glimpse of someone in blue and red, and another in black and white, but I ended the ritual too early to see them clearly. The enormity of it felt like it would rip my mind in half, I wasn’t ready… And then, there he was. Clawing his way from the void, out of the iris itself. The last thing I saw was you, walking through an empty house like a ghost, before I used every ounce of magic in my body to send him back to hell.”

Nausea threatened Chase’s empty stomach. His eyes stung and his throat locked, he couldn’t have interrupted if he wanted to.

      “I didn’t realize until afterward that some trace, or radiation of my magic had attached itself to you. We are the same person, and you were the last of us I saw. We were all connected that day, and what came after was enough to let him out of the void and into your world. Then, he and I spent two long years of cat and mouse, while I tried my hardest to close pandora’s box.”

      “So, I-” a joyless laugh hurt every corner of his face, “I could have stopped this if I’d just died when I was supposed to. Jesus. Fucking Christ.”

A hand cinched around his arm with force, and Chase looked up to meet eyes that flashed with green. Marvin’s jaw was set, and his words were slow and deliberate.

      “Listen to me, Chase Brody. You matter. This universe wouldn’t be better without you in it. You aren’t the weakest of us, you were dealt a bad hand and made the best of it. What he did, and everything that followed, was my fault. Mine.”

Chase said nothing, and the hand withdrew.

      “I wish it ended with him. My actions and his presence have forged a connection between the void of this world, and every universe.”

      “That’s what the Host- the guy at the dam said. He and the other demon from the void were worried about Anti getting access to every universe.”

The cloud of guilt across Marvin’s face lifted, and blue eyes narrowed.

      “What do you mean other demon? Is there a second Anti?”

      “No,” Chase shook his head, “no, it’s someone else from the void. The magic you tied to me let them in a few weeks ago, and Anti’s been haunting me ever since. It wasn’t an hour after it happened that I got pulled out of the woods and dropped onto a roof.”

The magician was visibly rocked, and he looked back in the direction of the dam. Color had drained from his already pale face before his voice found traction again.

      “So, if… if part of the containment process is sending both Anti and that secondary demon back to where they belong, the man who just,” Marvin’s hands spread in exasperation, “reversed a fucking river might object to that?”

It was Chase’s turn to think. His mouth opened, snapped shut, and opened again.

      “… Maybe we don’t tell him that part til it’s over.”

      “Oh-ho my god,” Marvin climbed to his feet with a broken laugh, and both hands slid up into his long hair as he turned away. “Ohhhh, this day just keeps getting better.”

      “Look, not that I’m on team Anti, but can you please explain to a fucking idiot why you two have been working against each other for the last two years? He wasn’t even in your universe, you could have just moved the fuck on. Lived your magic Irish wizard life, and left him to be our problem.”

      “It’s not that simple.” Marvin’s eyes flared green again as he rounded on Chase. “I told you, I forged a connection between the void and every. Universe. If you think the only danger from that place comes from its denizens, you are mistaken. That dimension is a living thing. A hungry, ancient thing. A few more cracks in the rift, and it will devour this world. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Bleeding through the veil.”

Chase’s widened, and he was again thrust into the gas station coated in fallout. In the hospital a lifetime ago. Chandler’s cabin. That strange darkness where all sound was smothered beneath ash and dust. His eyes lifted to Marvin’s, and he didn’t need to say the words aloud.

      “… I don’t know shit about magic, and dimensions, but… what would do more damage? Opening the door again to send him back, and hope we can fucking shut it behind him. Or just… ending him.”

      “I’ve thought that, too. I tried, more than once, to take over his mind, but I can only hold him for so long. Never long enough to send him back through the rift, or capture him in the iris. Or put a knife in his throat. Every attempt has left me weaker, and him angrier. I don’t know if sending those two back to the void will sever the connection, or not. But if we do nothing, we will all be consumed.”

A heavy sigh was pushed through Chase’s nose, and he kicked off a still sopping wet shoe to let it drain in the dirt.

      “If the problem is opening and closing that door, maybe we stop opening and closing that door. No matter what we pick, it’s going to be a fight, Marvin. I don’t know a lot about the cryptids, but I think we could get the Host on our side. He’s friends with, okay, my youngest named them Void and I’ve never gotten anything else, but, he’s hellbent on protecting the universes and shit. Even if his buddy’s gotta go, I think we can get him on board.”

Marvin watched as Chase climbed to his feet with stiff, labored movements. Every inch of him hurt, and there was no pretending otherwise. It was only then that he noticed the magician was dry, and he was still soaked.

      “If I spend another minute here, talking about this, I’m going to lose it. How are you with teleporting? I saved your fucking life, I want an easy ride home.”

A tired smirk tugged at the magician’s features for just a moment before that familiar green began to emanate from his eyes. Chase watched as the four card suits materialized on Marvin’s forehead, and his hands came to rest over Chase’s biceps.

      “Picture your destination very clearly.”

Chase’s eyes closed, and he pulled Chandler’s cabin to the forefront of his mind. The wooden exterior, the creaky porch stairs. He counted the windows, he gauged the distance of the forest beyond it. His own car parked in the long driveway, his brother’s truck beside it.

Blue eyes opened, and he was there.

Chapter Text

9PM

A full breath of air was pulled through Chase’s lungs, and he let his eyes slide shut. Just a quick, selfish moment of relief. Everyone’s car was still in the driveway of Chandler’s cabin, standing strong in the fading light of dusk. The lights were on inside, and Chase’s still-soaked shoes climbed up the wooden stairs, one step at a time. He knew he was a mess, bloody, beaten, drenched and exhausted, but it didn’t matter. With a faint creak of protest, the door was pushed open.

Four heads snapped in his direction. Chandler’s hand went for the gun. Stacy’s eyes went wide. Ellie tried to run forward, but Connor grabbed her tight. His young face was twisted, eyes red with tears, but he held strong onto his struggling sister.

      “What’s our code word?”

A faint, wheezing laugh broke free at the cleverness of his boy. Connor was smarter than his old man by a mile.

      “Captain Rex.”

Both of his children were in his arms in an instant. Sobbing, clinging, terrified. Chase held them the best he could, but it was Stacy’s face that almost took him to the ground. Never had he seen her so anguished. Tears coursed down his own face by the time it was captured in both her hands, and Chase pressed a kiss to one of her trembling palms.

      “I’m here, Stace. It’s just me-”

He wasn’t given a chance to finish before Stacy pulled him into her arms with a hitching sob. Both children were crushed between them, and neither seemed to care. Even Chandler had stepped forward to put a hand on Chase’s shoulder and squeeze. The Brodys were whole again, and only one of them noticed a shadow fall over the family from the open door.

Relief died with the crack of a gunshot, and Chase looked up in time to see his own face frozen in shock before Marvin stumbled. His ears rang, his heart pounded, and Chase lunged for the smoking gun in Chandler’s hand. That’s not him, he tried to scream, but he could barely hear himself think over the explosive ringing. Marvin lurched a single step away from the door, and his spine met the porch with a heavy crack. Chase threw himself beside the fallen magician and pressed both hands over the bullet wound in his chest.

      “Marv, stay with me!”

Chase’s hearing was only just coming back, but he didn’t need his ears to know what the blood soaking into his knees meant -- the bullet had punched straight through him. Chase couldn’t even fault his brother for shooting, how the fuck could he have known Marvin wasn’t Anti? The wizard’s hands were scrabbling against his, and blood leaked from the corners of Marvin’s mouth. The coughing fit was wrenching and wet, and Chase barely noticed him manage to slip a bottle from his cloak before it was tipped into his mouth.

Green light began to pulse through every vein in Marvin’s body. Chase held up a palm toward Chandler without looking, a silent plea to wait, despite how damning it looked. The wizard lit up with spiderwebs of veins like a radioactive beacon. His back arched against the wooden planks, and he all but thrummed with arcane energy. The eyes that snapped open were swallowed by black, and the spectral feline mask was again fitted over his pallid face.

The green light lingered a moment longer before it vanished, mask and all, and Marvin collapsed onto the porch with a shuddering heave. Chase chanced a peek beneath his bloody hands, but the wound was gone. Nothing remained but slick, unbroken skin, and the gulps of air were evidence enough Marvin’s throat and lungs were clear.

      “… I hope you have more of that shit stashed somewhere.”

Marvin almost smiled before his face went slack, and Chase shook his body with fresh alarm.

      “Marv-Marvin!”

The fear receded as Marvin’s blood-soaked chest rose and fell. A hand was pressed to the wizard’s neck, and he found the pulse steady beneath it. Chase took a cleansing breath of his own and leaned into the familiar arms that wrapped around his shoulders.

      “It’s okay,” Chase assured, his gaze shifting from Chandler and Stacy to the kids in turn, “he’s not Anti. He’s another version of me. Anti wants him dead, we’re on the same side. Whatever that shit was must have done a number on him.”

      “Is this his?” Stacy’s hand brushed Chase’s side, where the blood hadn’t quite been washed from the stab wound. She found the hole in his shirt before he could lie.

      “It’s… I’m okay now. As okay as I can be.” Both kids wormed their way against him once again, and Chase held them tight. “… I’m so tired, Stace. I just want to burn these clothes and sleep.”

Chase’s voice was desperately thin, and Stacy squeezed him tighter for just a moment. “Come on. You have to tell us everything tomorrow, but we’re all tired.”

      “You can borrow some of my clothes,” Chandler offered, and his gaze fell on his brother’s twin. “And I guess he can, too. Are you sure you trust this guy?”

      “He hates Anti. It’s all I’ve got right now. Please just,” Chase gestured tiredly, “put him on the couch or something.” Stacy was already pulling him up the stairs, and he finally realized just how exhausted he truly was. Memories of the night he’d found himself on the roof came flooding back as his wife did her best to change his ruined clothes with something soft and clean. They were in one of the bathrooms, and the light seemed too damn bright, but it lit every line of stress and worry in Stacy’s face.

They’d been there since long before the glitch. They’d started with every missed payment. Every broken promise. Every lie. Anti was only building on the foundations Chase himself had laid, one shitty act at a time. He reached out and gently cupped a hand to her cheek. Stacy flinched, her own nerves long since frayed, before her eyes met his own.

      “I’m sorry. For everything. For all of it.”

Stacy’s shoulders caved, and her head tilted against his hand. Her own came to rest against it as she fought the tremble in her lips.

      “I don’t want to hear that like it’s goodbye, Chase. We thought you were dead, or-or trapped in your own fucking body,” Stacy’s eyes squeezed shut, and the tremble only worsened. “You’ve been trying so hard since the day you disappeared in the woods, and I know that. I’ve seen that. Tell me you’re sorry by trying when our lives aren’t in danger. Try on a normal fucking Tuesday. Try when we’re just… Stacy and Chase. With two kids, and jobs and a mortgage. Try then, Chase. Because I’d rather have you, and all of your mess, than some apology you wanted to make before it was too late.”

Chase couldn’t meet her gaze, and he forced his voice to steady.

      “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. You, or the kids. I know I did, I made some stupid fucking choices… and you were always there to pick up the pieces, but that wasn’t your job. I shouldn’t have made it your job-” Chase went still as both her hands found his face, and she gave him a tired smile.

      “Then show me. We’ll get through this, and you can show me. I miss you, Chase. I never stopped loving you. I want us to be a family again, but you have to show me when nobody’s life is on the line.”

If Stacy had more to say, she wasn’t given a chance. She was wrapped in Chase’s arms and pulled into a desperate kiss. Their first in almost two years. Never in his dreams would he have imagined it would be in Chandler’s guest bathroom, over a pile of clothes soaked in river water and blood, on the run from a monster who looked just like him.

Their foreheads rested together, and Chase let himself just breathe. Fuck tomorrow, they had that moment, just that one moment, and the world would have to pry it from his cold, dead hands. Stacy steadied Chase when he swayed, and gently led him to the guest bedroom. The kids were already there, and the bed was big enough for all of them. Chase settled in the middle of his family and sank into the most satisfying sleep he’d had in years.

10AM

Blue eyes creaked open the barest amount. Ellie’s tuneless humming filtered through Chase’s ears, and he felt her nestled against his back. He rolled over with a tired groan and tugged his daughter close.

      “Keeping me safe, huh.”

      “I have to,” Ellie snuggled against her dad, “I didn’t do it the last time the monster was here. He broke my sword.”

Chase’s heart fell, and he squeezed Ellie just a bit tighter. “It’s okay, baby girl. You did your best, even though you were scared. I’m proud to be your dad. But promise me, if he ever comes back, just run.”

Ellie shook her head with her whole body and clung tighter. Chase sighed and tucked her into his arms to carry with him downstairs. Connor was on the porch, playing with a toy that must have been lost in Chase’s car before the nightmare even began. Stacy and Chandler were at the kitchen table, and their conversations ceased with Chase’s approach.

Marvin was a sight so jarring it stopped him mid step. He was still alarmingly pale, but stripped of his cloak and dressed in Chandler’s baggy clothes, the only part of him that didn’t mirror the man on the stairs was his longer hair. Chase cautiously descended, but Marvin didn’t move a muscle as his twin walked past.

      “Did he wake up at all?”

      “Nope.” Chandler poured a cup of coffee for Chase and set it on the counter. “But the gunshot is gone. I cleaned him up, but it’s like it never happened. Are we gonna talk about who the hell he is?”

Chase sighed and set Ellie down, but she was reluctant to leave his side. He knelt to her level and kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna be ok. I’ve got your mom and Uncle Chandler. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ellie wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed before thundering her way to Connor. Chase slowly straightened and took a grateful sip of coffee. Where the fuck to even start?

      “… He’s a version of me from a different universe. There’s six of us, four he’s seen for sure, and Anti is one of them. They’re not all just, I don’t know. Chase Brody but tall, they’re different. He said his name is Marvin, and he’s a wizard.”

      “If this had been any point in our lives but now, I’d say you were insane.” Stacy rubbed her eyes tiredly. “How did he get here?”

Chase turned his gaze toward the unconscious magician, and fought the urge to laugh. It was insane, in every sense of the word.

      “I think… two years ago, he was messing with magic shit, and he linked all of us together. Anti used the connection to get to him, Marvin threw him out, but the last thing he saw before setting off the nuke was me. Marvin thinks his magic attached to me, and that’s how I accidentally opened the door for that bastard. Him and Marvin spent the past two years trying to kill each other, or cram Anti back into the void, and got nowhere. I think Anti terrorized a hydro dam until it shut down, and then stole me so he could use my power, and crank the dam to a thousand, and summon Marvin here.”

His only answer was the sound of the kids playing outside. Chase could all but feel the two sets of eyes on the man he’d, quite literally, dragged in.

      “What was his plan when he got here?” Stacy asked, and Chase shrugged. “Just, drown him in the plant. He couldn’t leave the magic circle he warped into, I had to dive under and break it for him.”

Chandler was deathly still, and his gaze wouldn’t leave the magician’s face. He didn’t stir until Chase questioned him softly, but even then, it was a fight.

      “If that bastard planned his death, for two fucking years, do you really think he’s not going to make sure he’s dead?”

      “I thought that, too. The cryptids showed up right at the end. I’m kinda hoping he became their problem instead. The Host kept the dam from flooding the entire river, and Marvin’s dead body isn’t there.”

      “If he rolls up here, I will gladly give him the wizard over you,” Chandler growled. “We’re not losing you again. I don’t know that guy, and I don’t want to. If it gets you off the hook, Anti can have him.”

Chapter Text

Chase found himself glued to the bedroom window that overlooked the forest behind the cabin. Marvin had long since woken, grabbed an odd assortment of ingredients from Chandler’s kitchen, and made his silent way into the woods. Squinted eyes just made out the magician’s back in the distance, seated and all but covered by brush. The sound of soft footsteps behind him whipped Chase’s head around, but he was met with Stacy’s tired, apologetic smile.

      “Sorry. Are you still spying on him?”

      “I don’t know what else to do with my life,” Chase admitted, and turned his gaze back to Marvin. “Why isn’t he freaking out about being in an entirely different universe. He hasn’t said shit about trying to get home, but I don’t know what the fuck we’re supposed to do with him if he stays.”

Stacy frowned, and tried to pick out the wizard among the trees herself.

      “Is it our job to do something with him if he stays?”

      “Stacy, he’s me. That dude could take my license, fucking divine my social, and take over my life if he wanted to. He could kill somebody and frame me for it. I don’t think ‘evil undocumented twin’ holds up in court.”

The one thing that kept him from losing it was the fact this all started because Marvin wanted more power, and Chase had none. He had debt, child support, and a failed YouTube channel. The guy might carry his own DNA, but he wouldn’t find the money or credit to buy a house in his name.

Stacy’s hand against his back earned a flinch, and he could only mumble, “Sorry.” Chase longed for the day when he didn’t have to spend every moment on edge. It was like living in a minefield, he wouldn’t know which step would be his last until it was too late.

       The headless man, still walking.

       “Instead of doom speculating, why don’t you just go talk to him. He wants to stop Anti, and keep the void from expanding, I don’t think he’s thinking about committing tax fraud right now.” That earned a huff of amusement, and Chase nodded.

        “You’re right. I’m worrying twelve steps ahead, you love that.”

Stacy groaned, and pushed her husband toward the door.

The soft ground swallowed Chase’s footsteps toward the forest. There was irony in the fact Marvin had set up shop where the attack had happened, and the vlogger felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. There was a charge in the air that clung to his skin, not quite the same as Anti’s, but... close enough. Marvin was seated crisscross with his back to a tree, eyes closed, unmoving. The transparent cat was sprawled in his lap, purring like a jet engine, and its eyes snapped open at Chase’s approach. It climbed off Marvin’s lap, stretched, and trotted to rub against Chase’s legs. He’d expected to feel next to nothing, but the cat was solid. It meowed and leapt right onto his shoulder, like it had done so a thousand times.

      “Is he bothering you?”

Chase was startled mid-pet, but reached back up to smooth a hand over the spectral fur. “No, he’s cute. He feels real, how does he feel so real when he’s see-through?”

      “I could give you the long-winded explanation. Or I could tell you familiars are just like that.”

      “He’s your familiar!?”

      “He’s yours, too.” Marvin’s eyes opened to find the cat rubbing his cheek against Chase’s. “We’re the same person. If he didn’t like what he sensed, he’d be an asshole.”

A small smile crept across Chase’s face, and he couldn’t deny the motorboat’s worth of purring in his ear. They looked the same, but they weren’t. They couldn’t be.

      “I can’t do magic. Aside from whatever’s still stuck in me from yours… any idea how to take that shit back?”

      “Not at this moment. Carving magic out of someone is something only the worst of us can do.”

      “Worse than fucking the universe?”

A heavy sigh was pushed through the wizard’s nose, and his perfect posture slumped against the tree. The magical charge in the air faded, and the glow of Marvin’s skin seemed to fade with it. He looked somewhat better than the day they met, but still haggard. Still lost. Leaves crackled beneath Chase’s shoes as he kneeled in front of his double.

      “… Level with me, Marvin, what’s the ­plan? I don’t want to trust you just because my back’s against the fuckin’ wall, give me something. What are we doing about Anti, and the void? And the fact you’re not even from this fucking universe. How are you getting home?”

Marvin’s eyebrows rose, but he couldn’t meet Chase’s gaze. The wind stirred the trees above, and tiny patches of sunlight danced across the mirrored pair. With a quiet snap of his fingers, the cat vanished into thin air with a shimmer of green.

      “… I don’t think I am getting home, Chase. It took the combined effort of you and Anti, and the power of an overloaded hydro dam to summon me here. He’s not going to volunteer to send me back.”

      “Maybe the Host could help-”

      “There’s also,” Marvin interrupted, “the fact that building bridges and punching holes into other realities is what started this mess in the first place. The veil between the void of this world and every other universe is thin as a razor. Any breach may be the last, and if it breaks free? The multiverse will be littered with the corpses of my failures.”

Chase ran a hand through his hair and subconsciously mirrored the same look Marvin had given him before.

      “That’s a good line. Did you practice it in the mirror, or steal it?”

      “You’ll never know.” Marvin almost smiled. “We need to seal away Anti, or kill him. We may also need to seal away or kill the other demon you encountered. You said your daughter named it Void, can you tell me more about it? Is it a man or woman?”

      “Neither,” Chase rubbed a tired hand over his face, “both, I don’t know. They’ve got black eyes, fucking needles as long as my forearm. Void teleports, but it’s different from how Anti does it. They’re solid if you manage to hit them, but good luck trying. Not to mention I think they’re a package deal with the Host.”

      “The Host…” Marvin’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You said he was from a different universe as well. Can you elaborate?”

      “I got the quick and dirty version, but he had the power to write things, and they would happen. He tried to make real people into characters in his own fucked up novel, but they managed to escape. Void said he tried to write himself the power to find them again, but it went wrong, and the bastard had like,” Chase threw up his hands, “every fucking story in the universe shoved down his eyeballs or some shit. He has no fucking eyes, but they sockets are always bleeding. And he talks in third person, like he’s narrating the world, but the shit he narrates comes true.”

Stunned silence fell over them both, but Chase could see the gears turning behind Marvin’s eyes.

      “Do you think he could narrate the veil to be stronger? Or narrate Anti back to the void?”

      “I think if he could,” Chase sighed, “he would have done it already.”

 16 HOURS EARLIER

They arrived in a billow of red smoke on the roof of the generator room of Jackson Hydro Dam. The river was pouring out of every crack and crevice of the building below them, and the Host’s narrations were lost under the roar of surging water. He opened the roof access door and descended the stairs as if nothing were amiss at all, and Void followed with concern.

      “Host, he wouldn’t stay down here to drown,” Void called over the cacophony, but the blind man didn’t slow down. He stopped just before his shoes met the waterline in the stairwell.

      “The Host senses an opportunity here,” he raised his voice over the surge, “he feels that Anti’s work has left the veil between worlds thin enough that he may be able to summon his companion from the universe from whence he came!”

An iron hand wrenched the Host’s shoulder back, and he was forced to meet Void’s face.

      “After everything you said you wanted to stop, are you really willing to break the world for him!?”

The Host faltered a moment, and then his jaw set and his spine straightened.

      “The world will BEND. It will not BREAK.”

      “You’re about to do exactly what you’ve been fighting against! You know that, right?”

Teeth bared, and the bandages almost seemed to darken with his mood.

      “Void has never been devoted to holding back the dimension they came from. Why do they argue in favor of a world they don’t believe in? Why argue, when they believe in nothing!”

      “I believe in one thing.” Void took a step backward up the stairs, and then another. “I believe in you. Make the call you can live with, Host. I’m going after the glitch.”

The Host watched his companion vanish in a plume of red, and he was left alone in the partially-submerged building. “The Host will dwell on those words for some time,” he narrated to himself, “and he turns to face the flooded facility. The water does not consume him. It passes over, like a stone in the river, no matter where he stands.”

The boot that stepped into the surging water did not get wet. As the Host walked, it swerved around him, as if there were an invisible barrier in a perfect sphere. The stairs soon carried him beneath the surface, and his bubble was filled with dark, churning water. Through his gift of sight, he could see the flashing lights of the alarm system staining the depths red. He could see the generator container in the corner of the massive room, broken and bent. The Host moved steady and calm to the control room, but found his lips almost reluctant to move.

      “The Host… wonders if… through the thinning of the veil, his friend can hear him.”

       Host!?

If the blind man had eyes, they would have widened as his head snapped up. It was the Host’s own voice that echoed in his mind, but it was deeper, and layered. The discordant nature of the voice was not alarming, but familiar.

      “The… the fight to save the multiverse has become complicated.”

        So bring me through, and let me help. I’ve missed you.  

      “The Host… cannot.”

His chin dipped, and he could sense the flare of anger from an unimaginable distance.

       You come close enough to hear my voice, only to refuse? The only reason I am not with you now, is because you did not have the power to transport me with you! You have it NOW, HOST. JUST LET ME IN.

The Host drew a shaking breath, and his head shook for a being that could not see it.

      “...The integrity of the veil is compromised. His friend craves power, and the Host accepts that, but there is no power to gain if the multiverse is consumed by the void. He misses him, he wishes it were not so, but the situation is too delicate. The Host is sorry.”

       I DON’T WANT SORRY! JUST LET

             ME

                   IN!!!

The Host grimaced through a violent snap of his head, and a rapid narration severed that angered voice from his mind. The words flowed, like the water that surrounded him, until the alarms were no longer blaring. The Host found himself on the top of the dam, heedless of the blood that coursed down his cheeks with every word it took to undo the damage. To keep that place from feeding that puncture wound between worlds.

The generator seal was back in place, as if it had never busted. Void’s boots squeaked against the still-sopping floor, and the humidity of the room was growing uncomfortable. There was no trace of the glitch, he must have had his fun and left, but what fun was that? They didn’t find an answer until a crude painted circle of runes and sigils stood stark against the concrete.

      “Host?” the teleporter called, and knelt to the floor to sweep a hand over the paint. “I need you to come look at this.”

The narrator was at Void’s side in moments, and his head tilted at the summoning circle.

      “… The Host has not seen these symbols. He must rest before his hindsight can be used.”

      “Well, I can take a guess,” pale fingers traced the line carved through the circle, “Anti pulled something here. But with no body and a broken circle, whatever it was got out. What did he go through all this to kill? And how long before he comes back to make sure it’s dead?”

In the far corner of the drained room, the lights began to flicker.

Chapter Text

      “What do you mean- Chase, I live in the middle of God damn nowhere, where are we supposed to go!?”

      “I don’t know!” Chase snapped. Just how many laps his worn-out shoes had paced through Chandler’s kitchen, he couldn’t say. “He found us here once already, and now we’re- we’re with a guy he punched a fucking wormhole through the universe to kill. He’d be a moron not to doubletap.”

      “Not in front of the kids,” Stacy glanced over at the couch where Connor and Ellie were watching TV. Between Anti’s showing up at the cabin, and his previous attempts to take them, no one was comfortable having the children out of sight anymore.

      “Is he our responsibility?” Chandler glanced out the kitchen window toward the woods, where Marvin had yet to leave, and Chase only threw up his hands.

      “I’m tired of answering this question, I don’t know! He’s me, and I helped bring him here, so what am I supposed to do?”

      “It’s not like you signed up for that, we send him on his way! He’s got magic shit, he undid a fucking gunshot wound, and the family’s got enough of a target on its back already! We’ll be lucky if Charlie doesn’t show up at my door, I’ve been lying through my teeth about not seeing you two or the kids, and I know she’s not buying it. Are we gonna rope her into this, too?”

       “No,” Chase retorted, “no, she wouldn’t buy the truth either. She'd think Anti wasn't real until he walked up and stabbed her.”

      “Does the, um,” Stacy cleared her throat, “wizard have any suggestions? Is he ever coming back inside?” It was Chase’s turn to brace both hands on the kitchen counter and squint through the backyard window. “I don’t know. He said he needed to do ‘arcane recovery,’ whatever that means.” Chase shook his head and turned back to his family, only to find himself alone.

The world had changed. Between one blink and the next.

An icy hand wrapped around his heart in the silence of his brother’s home, and squeezed. Blue eyes widened at the fallout-dusted chairs, the crumbling couch where the Brodys had been half a second ago. The derelict cabin had been plunged into darkness, lit by an eerie green glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere.

      “No no no no no, no, not again.”

Chase’s head whipped around, but the window showed a world of darkness. Ash falling in the ghostly light. The bridge scene from the pirated copy of the Chernobyl pilot he’d watched hadn’t looked much different. He remembered being somewhat grateful the picture was just holding on at 480p, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see radiation poisoning in HD. Though, now, he might get to live it.

      It’s not radiation, Chase's inner voice was desperate, shoes pressing into the ashen floor as he backed away from the window. It can’t be. I got covered in this shit at the gas station, my fucking organs would have melted.

Something was different this time. There was a thrum, a feeling in the air Chase couldn’t describe. Something between greed and hunger. Like a monster sitting on a hoard of treasure and still wanting more.

A booming crack resonated through Chase’s entire body as the front door slammed open. He jumped, eyes wide and a hand clapped over his own mouth as wind poured through the entrance. Ash swirled and coated his skin with every tentative step forward, until he was standing in the doorway. Grass and trees were dead for miles. It was nothing but cracked ground, stripped branches, pillows of ash, and unending darkness. The one true llight source came from far in the distance, where the city would be. The sky was splashed with yellow and orange above it, like the entire thing was burning.

Stacy watched Chase plant his hands on the counter to look out the back window, and her eyes narrowed as his shoulders began to cave.

      “Chase?”

Her husband didn’t answer. Compounded anxiety from recent weeks had Stacy on her feet in half a heartbeat, and a slender hand squeezed his shoulder. “Babe, you okay?” Her effort earned nothing. Chase didn’t move a muscle. Her heart climbed into her throat as she shook the man hard to no avail. His hands remained fixed to the counter, and his sluggish body straightened. Brown eyes were wide when they met Chandler’s.

      “Get M-arvin…?”

The magician was there before her snarled demand could finish, and he gestured for her to stand aside. Stacy was reluctant to leave Chase, but with a raise of both hands in a show of good faith, she stepped back to let the stranger work. Marvin leaned against the counter beside his double, and his touch was gentle as it turned Chase’s face toward his own. He found it devoid of emotion. Blank. The muscles were slack and there was a slight heaviness to his eyes, like he’d been placed in a trance.

      “Marv, what’s wrong with him?” Chandler's voice was controlled, all too aware that both kids were no longer distracted by the TV. Marvin gingerly turned Chase’s head a bit to the left and right, but there was no response in that tired, empty stare.

      “… He’s not here.”

Ice stole through Stacy’s veins at the quiet declaration. Chase had been pacing and yelling just a moment ago – it was like something had just reached into his soul and taken it.

      “Where is he?”

Her breath caught as green light emanated from Marvin’s palm, and it passed over Chase’s unseeing eyes. Behind the white sclera and the heather blue irises, his eyes were swallowed by black. The green light showed dark and twisting veins radiating beneath the skin that ringed Chase’s eyes. The magic faded, and the darkness faded with it.

      “He’s in the void.”

Green light passed over Chase’s eyes in the darkness, and he wrenched his gaze away. Something in that hellscape was toying with him, he could feel it.  

      Baby, please come back.

His head snapped around at the distant echo. Stacy’s voice, he was dead certain, but the only sign of life in that cabin was his own frantic heart. Something rumbled in the distance, like thunder, and on instinct, Chase shut the front door with shaking hands. Like that might keep the upside down out.

      This isn’t the upside down, you’re not in stranger fucking things, this shit is REAL.

Last time… last time, he’d found the book. Marvin’s book. He’d found the book, and something came after him. Numbed legs carried Chase to the kitchen table, but the spellbook was gone. The dust was uniform and undisturbed, aside from the wind in the door, and there was no book-shaped imprint left behind. Not that he would have been able to read that shit and find his way home.

      The veil between the void of this world and every other universe is thin as a razor. Any breach may be the last.

Marvin’s words in his own accented voice drifted back to the forefront of his mind, and Chase went rigid. If… if the wall was that thin, what if he couldn’t get back without bringing it all crashing down? Twice now it had pulled him in and spit him back out. What if it wasn’t Anti who had to go back, but Chase who had to stay?

      “NO.”

Marvin seared that single word into Chase’s mind. The wizard’s eyes were closed, and the fingertips pressed to his alternate’s temples glowed a faint green. “Stay calm. Come back to us.”

       I don’t know how!

Stacy and Chandler gasped, both heads turned toward the kitchen table. It had been fainter than an echo, but both had heard Chase’s voice, detached from his catatonic body.

      “It has your consciousness, Chase, not your body. You can come back from this.”

      “Marv…”

It was little more than a broken whisper. Chase felt paralyzed, gripped with the same terror he’d felt at finding himself on that parking garage roof. Something awful had once again come for his soul, but this time, it wasn’t going to wait for him to kill himself. He couldn’t fight the horrible, hair-raising sense that his every move was being watched, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t the wizard’s gaze he felt, it was something else.

       Your consciousness, not your body…

Chase turned back toward the cracked window above the kitchen counter. The area seemed to faintly glow a different shade of green, right where he’d been standing.

       Ch     A    s   e . . .

Breath strangled in his throat as a new voice creeped into his mind, but it was more a feeling than it was sound. The front door creaked open again, and black veins seeped and spread from the threshold. Across the ashen floor, the walls, the broken windows. Searching, seeking. One twisting vein reached a footprint in the ash and quickened its pace. Hunting.

       C h          A         S   e . . .  . . .

The veins surged toward his frozen form, and Chase threw himself at the glowing outline of green.

For a moment, no one breathed. Like he’d been struck by lightning, Chase snapped out of the trance and lurched back from the hands on his face so hard it took him to the floor. Stacy’s arms found him after he’d skidded himself back until his spine met the cabinet doors, chest heaving and eyes wide. Her voice was in his ear, but Chase couldn’t hear it. His gaze was locked on the closed front door, and it was by instinct alone that he managed to hold onto Stacy’s forearm.

      “I’m here,” he whispered, an icy sheen of sweat over his pallid face as he tried not to picture the heavy wood slamming open once more. “I’m still here…”

The kids were on him in half a second, but it felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. Marvin telegraphed his motions before he knelt beside the family and placed a glowing hand on Chase’s shoulder. The effect was immediate. Tension bled from his terrified frame, and his lungs were able to get a full breath of air. Chase’s head fell back against the cabinet, and he heaved a sigh of genuine relief.

      “It was different this time,” he murmured, exhausted by the vacuum the adrenaline had left behind. “The city was on fire, I could see it in the skyline… and something was looking for me. It almost got me.”

      “It’s what’s going to consume this world if we fail.” Marvin pushed a few stray locks back from his own sweating forehead. “We’re running out of time. Chase, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s going to happen again. And keep happening, until we can put an end to it.”

      “What if it catches me?”

A hushed silence stole over the cabin, and Marvin’s eyes drifted down to Connor and Ellie’s terrified faces. His mouth had been open to deliver the brutal truth, but closed as he thought better of it. The kids weren’t his, but it was still jarring to see his own features reflected in faces so young and so frightened.

      “… You can’t let that happen. Run, or hide, but don’t be caught.”

      “Can’t you do anything?” Chandler found his voice at last, and he loomed protectively over the family as he stared down the stranger. “Can’t you protect him or some shit?”

Marvin’s gaze shifted in thought, and he managed a nod.

      “I need components and time, but… maybe. Maybe, I can at least give you an advantage. Right now, you’re going to need to recover.”

‘Recover’ sounded amazing. Chase was still sore from being Anti’s meatsuit and running from several trillion gallons of water. He leaned  into Stacy until she pulled all of them to their feet, and he hitched both kids into his arms. The two of them together were almost too big for him now, and the thought made Chase sad.

      “I’m okay, guys,” he murmured and followed Stacy upstairs. “Can you two say something for me? Please?”

      “Hi, daddy,” Ellie managed.

      “Something,” Connor murmured.

Chase sighed again, and squeezed them both closer. It was bad enough what has happening to him, but he’d take it tenfold if he had the option to spare his kids. It felt like a lifetime ago that Connor had tricked him into a handstand, and he’d buried Ellie in her own blankets. When had he last heard either of them laugh?

Stacy pushed open the spare bedroom door they’d all been sharing. Truth be told, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep after that nightmare, but it would feel good to lie down and hold his family. Every time he blinked, he saw those twisting veins of darkness searching for him. It was all too easy to imagine them rising from the floor and the walls to tear him apart. Crack him open like the door he was to a fresh new world to burn.

Chapter Text

2AM

      Tel̛l͏ the̴ wea͟k͝es͜t of ̧us ̡wh͠y he͟ ́hąs͜ t̛o͢ ̡diȩ.̀

The impact from behind stole the breath from Chase’s lungs, and he lurched over the railing into churning water. He fought his way to the surface, desperate hands sloshing through the roiling darkness, before they found a familiar cloak and held on.

       T̨ḩi͘̕s̷͜ ̴̢͟is͞ ̶͘YO̸͏̧U̡̕R͜ ̛͡F̡A͟͝U̷̡L͢͝T.̴̧

The surface broke and his throat was blessed with air just long enough for icy hands to cinch it shut. Chase’s eyes wrenched upward as he tugged on those wrists, but it wasn’t Anti who held him. It was Marvin.

The wizard’s face twisted into a sadistic smile, and it blurred into a smear of color as Chase’s head was shoved back under the water.

Chase bolted upright as the echo of Anti’s laughter faded from his ears. His chest was tight and his breaths were quick and shallow in the darkness. Stacy shifted against Chase’s side, but his movement wasn’t enough to wake her. The kids hadn’t stirred at all, and he was grateful. They’d been through enough without their own dad scaring them in the night.

Chandler’s cabin was dark. The city was way too close to be able to see the night sky in all its glory, and the few faint pinpricks of light didn’t do much out here. Chase waited until his eyes adjusted before making careful effort to climb out of bed. Dumb as it felt, it didn't stop him from sneaking his way down the hall to peer over the stair railing at the living room couch.

Marvin was gone.

Blood quickened in Chase’s veins as he gazed around the room. Marvin’s face was still seared into his retinas, he couldn’t shake it. Despite the fact the man hadn’t done anything to hurt him.

       Except ruin your life.

There was that. There was certainly that. Even careful as he was, the stairs still creaked with every descending step. No light from Chandler’s room, no light from the bathroom. The only sign Marvin had ever been there was the spare pillow on the couch and the blanket that had been thrown aside. It seemed neither one of them were sleeping.

Green light flared behind the front windows, and Chase’s head snapped around in fear. There was no ash, no veins, the cabin looked the same as ever as that flare illuminated Chase’s body again. Like fireworks, shots of green cascaded from a cloaked figure in the distance, and they glided in a graceful arc over the cabin roof. The green glow of magic illuminated the wizard for just a moment before he was swallowed by the darkness of night once more.

There was a tremble in his hands as Chase pushed open the front door, and the wooden porch creaked under his bare feet. Marvin continued his work, and Chase was surprised to find the magic was almost soundless. Just a faint spark and whoosh as it flew. The wizard said nothing, even as his mirror came to a halt just out of reach.

      “What are you doing out here, Marv?”

      “What I’ve been doing for the past two years. Fixing what I broke.”

Another arc of green shot over the cabin, and a shimmering dome began to materialize. Emerald light danced like sunlight through water, and cast a spectral glow over Chandler’s home. It looked like a force field of pure magic, but the dome faded before Chase’s tentative hand could reach out and touch it. He let it drop as Marvin cast yet another arc over the cabin roof. The deep lines in the wizard’s face were thrown in to harsh relief, and Chase wondered if the man had gotten a full night’s sleep in months.

      “It’s 2 o’clock in the morning. Come back inside.” The next flare of green showed Marvin’s jaw set and his eyes hard, and the magic was thrown with far more force. “You’re not going to fight him on just coffee and spite.”

      “Been doing it for years.”

Another bolt of magic was thrown with all his might, and Chase heard the impact far beyond the back yard. There it was, the look of anger from his dream, but it wasn’t for him. Marvin wound up for another, but Chase caught him by the arm and the shoulder, and forced him backward a step.

      “Marvin, stop! Just STOP! You don’t have to do this right now!”

      “YES, I DO!”

Chase was thrown onto his back by a searing flash of green, and he looked up to see the same color consume Marvin’s eyes. The wizard’s disheveled hair twisted and flowed as if he were held underwater. The unnatural energy in the air made the hairs on Chase’s arms stand on end, and he resisted the urge to push himself back as Marvin stalked closer.

      “Do you have any idea what it’s like to ruin EVERYTHING!? To see shattered lives and have nothing to blame but your own SELFISH EGO!? I DID THIS, CHASE! I DID THIS! I WANTED TO BE THE BEST OF THEM ALL, AND IT COST ME EVERYTHING!”

The magical charge in the air ramped up even higher, and Chase raised a single hand to the livid mage.

      “I do.”

      “What?”

Green light receded from Marvin’s eyes, and he was once again left with white sclera and heather blue. Chase heaved a deep breath and continued.

      “I do know what it’s like. I wanted to be famous. I wanted it more than anything. I had a YouTube channel, I thought I did everything right. I thought the show was funny enough, and the energy was good, and it was gonna take off any day. We started out alright, but the views never got better. The algorithm never took our shit to the top.”

A shuddering breath was sucked in, and his eyes dropped from Marvin’s face.

      “I thought I just had to work harder. We just had to work harder. Find cooler trick shots, upload more often, just grind until it worked. I quit my job because it didn’t matter, the channel was what mattered. If my energy wasn’t going into that, a hundred percent, it was wasted… Stacy, at first, she supported me. She took a second job so I could live my dream, I… god, I barely saw my kids, and I lived in the same house with them. I just… I thought if the channel took off, and I got famous, I could fix everything. Get deals, bring in money, do live shows, I could fix all of our problems if I was just famous. I wouldn’t drink anymore, I could afford shit like therapists and antidepressants, they could live a life I wanted to give them, and I could be me again.”

The energy faded from his skin, as if blown away by the breeze, and the twins were left in almost pitch darkness. All they could hear was the faint stirring of trees in the distance.

      “I know exactly what day you saw me in that magic 8 ball. Stacy had two jobs and a third on the side. She’d begged me to take a day off from filming and watch the kids so she could get some sleep. Connor was Ellie’s age, and she was still a toddler. Instead, I got a call from one of the guys, who said someone backed out of a conference room booking, and we could get it for the day super cheap. Did I say no, so sorry, my wife’s spine is breaking from carrying my dreams, the family, and my marriage? No, I took the money out of our emergency cash and went filming.”

      “She called me in fucking tears, to say she couldn’t do it anymore. I ruined our marriage over a pipe dream and a conference room. I tried so hard to fix everything the wrong way, and all I’d really done was throw away every good thing in my life. All I had left was depression, booze and a gun. The last thing you saw that day was me walking through our empty house to get the gun out of the closet. It felt like I already died, my body just needed to catch up.”

There was a whisper of fabric across the ground as Marvin knelt down in the dirt beside Chase. He couldn’t see the man’s face anymore, but the voice near his ear was thin.

      “… Did my magic stop you?”

      “No. It wasn’t even loaded. That’s what finally cracked me, I just remember throwing the gun and screaming. That’s why Anti’s here. I wanted to take bad shit out of the universe, and all I did was add more.”

Gentle orbs of green light rose from Marvin’s upturned palm, and they hovered in the air around the two men as he sat down beside Chase. It was hard not to flinch when the wizard’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

      “I’m sorry, Chase.

He heaved a heavy sigh beneath Marvin’s palm and shook his head.

      “I didn’t know what I did for another two years. You heard Anti, he called me the weakest. I wasn’t even on his radar until I let someone else in from the void, he was too busy fighting you.”

      “It started with me,” Marvin pushed the stray locks of hair back from his otherwise-identical face, “I just hope it ends with me. I want to try to undo some of the damage I’ve done, and that starts with keeping you and your family safe.”

The clouds parted to allow a bit of moonlight to wash over the grass, and Chase pulled himself to his feet. A hand outstretched, and Marvin squinted at it for a long moment before his own clapped into its grip. Chase tugged the wizard up with a grunt and nodded toward the house.

      “You can start by getting some fucking sleep. Whatever you did is fine enough for now.”

      “Fine enough,” Marvin repeated, and followed Chase’s barefoot trek back into the hushed silence of the cabin.

Chapter Text

Marvin squinted at the shot glass of viscous emerald liquid that Chase held out, and reached for it from his seat on Chandler’s couch.

      “What is this?”

      “Special shit. Only found in my universe.”

      “Looks like NyQuil.”

      “It’s NyQuil.”

The wizard gave Chase a look, but the hesitation was evident. It didn’t stop Chase from taking a swig right from the bottle.

      “Don’t judge me, I don’t want to exist til morning. You should try sleep some time, Marv, it’s amazing. It’s like hitting pause on your life.”

A sigh came from the couch, and Chase heard more than saw the shot go down. Neither of them were going to be any use in a rematch with the glitch if they were running on empty. The bottle was shoved back into the cabinet with the rest of Chandler’s assorted and mostly-expired meds. Chase just about made it to the stairs before the echoed laughter of the dream filtered through his ears once more.

      “… Do you ever get nightmares about him?”

      “All the fucking time, why do you think I don’t sleep.”

      “No but-” Chase frowned, and dug at an itch in his eye, “do you ever get nightmares from him? Like, ones that he makes.” There was a long silence, and the couch creaked as Marvin sat up. “… It was about me, wasn’t it?”

      “It’s not just you. He gave me one about Host and Void killing my kids, too. It felt so fucking real, I woke up and tried to murder a guy who can warp reality with just myself and these hands.”

      “… How did that go for you?”

      “You know,” Chase gave a self-deprecating shrug and half a laugh, “I did some damage. I’d give it a solid 20 HP. Had the element of surprise on my side, cause nobody expected that… thinking back now, that actually makes me feel better about yours. He’s only given me nightmares about the people trying to help.”

There was a faint huff of what could have been amusement, and Chase squinted at the wizard’s soft outline in the dark.

      “What?”

      “Nothin’, it’s just… earlier, I had one about you.”

Chase’s eyebrows rose at the silence that followed, and he leaned closer. “You wanna elaborate?”

      “I-” Marvin mirrored that same impatience, and his tired face was illuminated when a wave of his hand sent the green globules of light back into the air. “It could have been nothing. I had nightmares about him when there was still a multiverse between us. I know the energy it takes to reach across that gap, he wouldn’t waste it on that.”

     “But you’re here, now,” Chase pressed, “there is no gap. What was the nightmare?”

      “You,” Marvin’s expression darkened, trained resolutely on a spot in the dark, “you had a knife. And you slit my throat.”

      “… Oh my god,” Chase covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the incredulous laughter, much to Marvin’s unamusement. “It wasn’t funny at the time, Chase.”

      “No, Marv, think about it. He’s never been in the same room with the cryptids, and he tried to set me against him. The only time he was in the same room with you, was when you were stuck in the magic circle. He didn’t even stay to watch you die, and now he’s trying to pit us against each other.”

Chase couldn’t help the victorious smile that crept across his face.

      “He just wants me out of the way, but Anti’s afraid of the cryptids. He’s afraid of you.”

      “I don’t know if that’s fear, or just calculation,” Marvin sighed, his eyes starting to look heavy from the NyQuil. “He doesn’t have to kill everyone himself if he can get the four of us to turn on each other. He just has to mop up what’s left… who’s to say we’re not murdering the Host and Void in their dreams right now?”

It was a sobering thought. The teleporter was fast, and could appear out of thin air to impale them from above. The Host just needed words to end Chase and Marvin for good.

      “… If it comes to that, the Host can only use his powers if he can talk. If you’ve got shit that can shut him up or knock him out, he’s just a guy. If you can catch Void solid, they’re just a person, too. As far as I know, we all want the same thing. Anti gone, and the void to stay where it is.”

      “If it comes to that, we’d be walking into a trap from the start. We have to hope those two are smart enough to see through it… fuck, I’m tired.” Chase smirked while Marvin finally surrendered and laid down. Truth be told, he was feeling the shot, too.

      “Get some sleep, Marv. Remember, the dreams are fake. I don’t wanna slit your throat, too.”

      “What do you mean ‘too?’” Marvin lifted his head and squinted. “Are you why his neck is like that?”

      “Yeah. It’s the only thing I’ve managed to do to that bastard. I dunno why he’s still wearing it, if it didn’t kill him.”

The wizard made a noise at that, and let his head fall back against the pillow. Chase trudged up the stairs and back into the spare bedroom, where his family was still sprawled and safe. Ellie had commandeered his spot, and Chase had to lift her up with care so he could get back in. She settled the moment he laid her back down, and Chase found himself drifting off to sleep.

4AM

The Host was found as still as marble in the living room of the house they were squatting in. Somewhere between the Brody cabin and Jackson Hydro Dam. He’d been adamant the couple that owned it was on vacation, but Void wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d willed it into existence, paperwork and all. The dark night was a mercy, and they no longer needed the dampening effects of the goggles for their blackened eyes to see.

      “… The Host wants to know why Void stopped him.”

The dark veins in the teleporter’s face were more evident than ever with fatigue, and his answer was a pointed tilt of their head.

      “I didn’t stop you. I said make the call you can live with. I’ll admit I don’t like the fact you were willing to kill me on sight day one to stop the universes from colliding, but you were fine with punching another hole in that mess for someone you admitted might turn this into an opportunity. That’s a hell of an exception.”

      “He is… was… the Host’s only friend. He found it difficult to leave him behind.”

      “Well,” Void sighed. “We’ll get you back to him when it’s over. We’ll get your story back on track.”

      “The Host will find that difficult as well.”

He turned his bandaged gaze to the teleporter, and they couldn’t help but remember what he’d looked like in color. Warm and black and red. Now, he was just a washed-out gray. Like he’d always been.

      “… He still has color. Even if Void can’t perceive it.”

      “Don’t read my-” They bit back the instinctive snarl. He couldn’t help it, it was just who he was. “… There’s nothing to see there. I don’t have a story.”

      “That’s not true.” His voice lowered, and he took a deliberate step forward. “Void has a story. A long, long. Story. They have a name.”

The air in the room seemed to condense. There was no telltale haze of red around the teleporter’s outline, but somehow the Host found that even more concerning.

      “...You let me sit here and think I had that shit to myself, and you just-” Their mouth twisted, “you knew?”

The Host tilted his head down, so his bandaged sockets could better meet Void’s shorter gaze.

      “He sees every story. Whether its character believes in it or not. He did not want to burden his friend with the knowledge that he’s seen what they want so desperately to forget.”

He could see his friend wanted to be angry, but the anger wasn’t there. Just bitter resignation.

      “Void’s story is not over. The Host doesn’t know how it ends. He is hopeful when the fight is over, his friend might return with him to his own universe.”

      “I don’t know, how dark is it?”

Black eyes narrowed just a bit at the look of genuine amusement that stretched across the Host’s bandaged face, and he shook his head.

      “The Host finds a great deal of irony in Void’s question. He will say there is a bit more darkness in the place he calls home.”

38 HOURS EARLIER

Jackson Hydro Dam was swarmed. Old employees, law enforcement, civil engineers, all of them had trickled in after their systems had pinged catastrophic failure in the closed dam. Yet, when they all arrived, all that was found was a murdered security guard, a wet floor, a functional facility, and a hand-painted ritualistic circle in front of the generator.

      “What the fuck does any of this mean,” a kneeling detective hissed before a camera flash captured the circle. “Where is the old head engineer?”

      “That would be Mark. He works for NASA now.” The detective’s partner closed the employee file on his tablet and took a picture of the circle himself. “I gotta be honest with you, detective. None of this makes any god damn sense. Forensics thinks the security guard was dead long before the alarms went off, and he was nowhere near this… whatever this is.”

      “The room outside the stairwell where he was found, it had fresh footprints, right?”

      “Yeah, but they start in the middle of the room. Like someone was dropped from the ceiling. I’ve got two former employees who swear this place is haunted, and a third who won’t even walk in the door.”

The detective sighed, and straightened to his full height. “Get the photos of this thing to the department, see if they can’t find any hint of just what the hell it might be. Sweep the area, someone might still be hiding in here. If any of these old cameras were rolling in the past 72 hours, I want to know about it. Get met the civil engineer report the minute it’s finished.”

      “You got it, Abe.”

The junior detective watched his superior walk away. No doubt back to the murder scene on the other side of the hydro dam. The call was made for people to start searching room to room and report back anything they found, and the junior joined the search himself. Everything in the dam seemed to be functioning, except for one light above the last door on the catwalk. It flickered and sputtered, almost like… like a heartbeat.

Cautious boots climbed the stairs one at a time. The perforated metal groaned beneath his feet, but it held. The light continued to flicker its strange rhythm as he approached.

       On-off…… on-off…… on-off……

The hairs rose on the back of his neck, and a hand instinctively pulled the gun from its holster. The detective reached the door and let out a controlled exhale before it was thrown open, and the gun barrel fell on a corpse sprawled across the concrete floor.

      “Detective, we’ve got another body!” he called into his radio. The gun was holstered, and the junior knelt beside the fallen man. The skin was gray, corpse gray, but he still pressed against the neck for a pulse he knew wasn’t there.

       On-off…… on-off…… on-off……

      “Where, rookie?”

      “Ah,” he stammered, “the-ah, the catwalk. Last room on the stage left catwalk. This guy might not be dead.” The man didn’t have an ounce of color in his skin. The hair was so pitch black, it almost looked like a hole in the universe. The detective's fingers pushed harder against the artery and felt bones in the neck shift.

A bloodless hand clamped over his wrist. The movement was so fast it hadn’t even registered until the pain began. The junior’s eyes went wide as he pulled against the grip and twisted for the holstered gun with his opposite hand with awkward, desperate wrenches. A piercing, droning ring stole over the room, and he watched as the man’s entire outline seemed to shift into separate shades of color.

      “What’s going on up there, partner, talk to me!”

      “Sir…” The junior’s voice was faint as he watched the man’s black eyes snap open. “… this place is haunted.”

The words were choked as the ghost’s other hand clamped around his throat. The ringing in the air ramped up to a shill scream as Abe’s boots thundered up the catwalk’s stairs, too far away to matter. The specter opened his mouth, and the junior heard the same voice echoed over itself. Layered into a terrible cacophony that seemed to resonate down to the marrow.

      “Yes… you’ll do.”

Abe ran flat out down the catwalk, gun drawn. There was a ringing in the air that made his ears ache the closer he got, but that didn’t keep him from sprinting toward the darkness of the last room.

      “Hold on, partner!” Boots almost reached the doorway before heavy metal slammed shut in the detective’s face like a battering ram had struck it. Swift, and with impossible force. The strangeness of the movement jarred the detective for the split moment before his partner began to scream. A muffled, terrible sound that seemed both inches and miles away. Abe tried the locked handled, backed up the barest amount, and a heavy boot kicked the door wide open. It swung without protest, and the florescent light above spilled on the wide, glazed eyes of his partner. Empty from the unnatural angle of his neck, and the grayness of his skin. Stricken, Abe aimed the gun into the darkness, and reached in to snap on the light.

There was nothing inside but the lifeless body of his partner.

Chapter Text

Stacy turned the corner from the stairs and flinched at the sight of Marvin sprawled across the couch.

       Not sure I’ll ever get used to that.

Only the long undercut gave the impression it was not her husband, or the monster. It was still too fresh in her mind – the hours she had spent with that demon. He was indistinguishable from Chase when he wanted to be, but he stalked the house like a caged predator. He couldn’t make a peanut butter and jelly without mangling it. For fuck’s sake, Anti had made her a sandwich, and the startled look he’d given her when she appeared in the bedroom was one she’d seen a thousand times before. Fear of discovery. Chase wore it every time she’d caught on to something else he tried to hide. A new debt, an empty bottle, the grocery money spent on shit for his channel. The almost caught look. It conjured an ache so familiar, she’d believed Anti’s lie.

It was difficult not to feel that same revulsion, that same fight or flight instinct with Marvin. Her subconscious was waiting for the moment his smile went too wide, his hands gripped too tight, and his voice brimmed with corruption.

Marvin slept on, heedless of her worry. He looked less like he’d fallen from a building this time, on his side with a blanket pulled over him. Chase’s face, every atom of it. Even the deep circles under his eyes had lightened a few shades.

      “Stace.”

Stacy jumped again at the quiet voice, and looked up to see Chandler raise the filled pot of coffee from the kitchen counter. She let out a silent exhale and padded past the couch to accept the offered mug.

      “Someday, I’d really like to not hang by a thread over a cup of coffee in your kitchen.”

Chandler gave an amused huff as he poured a mug for himself.

      “Someday, I’d really like you all to get the hell out of my house. But nobody’s leaving until this is over.”

The mug was lowered to the table with a frown.

      “I thought the plan was to leave, since he knows where we are?”

      “So did I. But I woke up in the middle of the night because there was green light shining in my window. Out here, green light at 2am could only be two things. Demons, or aliens.” Chandler took a long sip of coffee and looked back toward Marvin. “It was him. Throwing magic shit over the cabin. Made this weird green bubble around the property. Damn near made it out the door to wake you all up before I saw Chase walk out there with him.”

Stacy felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, and she gripped the mug a little tighter.

      “What happened?”

      “They argued,” Chandler shrugged. “Chase grabbed him, Marvin threw him down. Then they both…  just sat out there for a while. Chase helped him up and brought him back inside. I think the magic shit was to protect us, not hurt us.”

Brown eyes fell on the sleeping wizard again, but the fight or flight was still there. The need to get away from anyone with that face who wasn’t the man she married.

      “… I want to believe he’s on our side, I really do. But something still feels wrong.”

      “I’m not sure I trust him either, but Stacy,” Chandler turned back to meet her gaze, both disheartened and pleading, “we tried to fight Anti once, just us, and look what happened. If he’d turned the blade even a little, we’d be putting Connor in the ground right now. He dodged a bullet without even looking. Chase slit his throat, and the bastard got up and stole him. Trench coat and ghost are gone, who knows what the fuck happened to them or if they’re still invested, the only thing we have to even the playing field is Marvin.”

Stacy couldn’t look at either of them. The only thing she could truly cling to was the fact Anti had gone to such impossible lengths to summon the wizard from his own universe and into a deathtrap. But that only assured her that Anti was not his ally. It didn’t mean Chase hadn’t fallen under a spell to trust him. It didn’t mean Marvin wasn’t here with his own agenda. There was also the fact another fucking dimension wanted to eat them all. The fact Marvin had opened the doorway in the first place.

She let her gaze settle on that familiar yet foreign face again, but her anxiety had only lightened a shade.

      “… Ever since the night Chase went for a drive and didn’t come home, things have gone from bad to worse. We’re just… we’re just people. Chase can’t fuck with electricity, or do magic, he’s not a superhero. This should never have been our fight, and I’m terrified we’re going to lose.”

      “I know.” Chandler’s voice was quiet. “That’s why I want Marv on our side. Trench coat and ghost, too, if we can find them again. I’m not going to lose my brother. Not to Anti, and not to diet hell. I’m not having another funeral in this living room, Stace, I can’t.”

A slender hand reached out to squeeze Chandler’s arm through weathered flannel.

      “We trust him. But we keep an eye on him. Deal?”

      “Deal.”

The ring in the air was so shrill he thought his ears would bleed. Boots pounded the metal catwalk. Screams vibrated every atom in his body, punctuated by the red and blue light that seared around the door that slammed OPEN-

      “ABE!”

The detective thrashed awake at the hand on his shoulder. The police station walls stood sentry around his haphazard desk, covered in papers, coffee cups and notes that flanked his outdated computer. He looked around to find detective Jada’s dark eyes wide with concern, and her hands raised from where she leaned back from him.

      “You good? You were almost yelling in your sleep.”

Abe pulled in a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face before he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m just… trying to figure out what the hell happened.”

      “Besides this little catnap, have you slept at all since the funeral?” Jada’s hands lowered, and she shifted to lean against his desk. Abe let out a joyless chuckle.

      “I haven’t slept since he died. Something fucking… murdered him, and it just disappeared. Jada, how the fuck does something just disappear!?”

Jada’s face was hard to read, and she pushed back a few wayward braids. The ticking clock on the wall showed it was late, but the station sounded just as busy as ever. Something must have happened if the senior detective was still here, when she wasn’t even on that case.

      “I don’t know, Abe. The coroner had a hard time making heads or tails of his autopsy, but his neck didn’t break itself. My advice is to work fast, before the feds decide they want this one. I’d help, but I’m up to my neck in other cases already.”

      “That’s why I’m still here,” he admitted, and woke his idle computer. “I’m trying to get through what’s left of the CCTV. Thanks for checking in on me, Jada. And not calling me crazy.”

      “Hmm,” she smirked and straightened, “Now if it had been anyone else telling me that story? I’d call them crazy. Do what you have to do, but remember that food and sleep are a thing.”

      “Coffee’s a food!” Abe called to Jada’s retreating back, and her retort echoed down the hallway.

      “No the hell it’s not!”

The detective smiled and shook his head, but he felt a rush of anger at himself for falling asleep in the first place. The footage had kept rolling, and he wasn’t certain where he’d left off. Jackson Hydro Dam had experienced odd fluctuating power levels, and the cameras that had been running off and on hadn’t done so at the best quality. There’d been none in the storage room where his partner had been killed, and he’d watched the inconsistent footage of him approach it on the catwalk so many times. He’d pulled the door open, gun drawn, and then immediately radioed to report a body. Just to then stutter that he thought the man might not be dead. It was his final words that kept echoing in back of Abe's mind.

       Sir… this place is haunted.

It was a fight to skip past that file and go back to scouring the day the dam had set off every alarm it had. Only five cameras in that place had picked up anything, but the timestamp for when the alarms happened was corrupted. Red, green and blue static and glitches ate up the feed, and it cut out to what looked like churning water. Abe sighed and cycled through the other three cameras, and was ready to move on to the last before something caught his eye.

Frowning, Abe stopped the video and zoomed in a bit. He wished it was like the movies, where he could just hit an ‘enhance’ button and four pixels would multiply into a crisp four thousand, but that wasn’t how it worked. Two people were at the end of a hall, running toward the camera. The feed cut out and back in to reveal they were running from a torrent of water. The place had been wet but intact, how the hell could there be that much water? He cursed as the feed cut again, but it came back to just when the two figures rounded the corner and up the stairwell beside the camera. Abe all but slammed the spacebar to pause the video on both their faces.

      “Gotcha.”

There was victory in his voice as he saved the still of the video and studied the individuals. The one in front was wearing a t-shirt and jeans that were absolutely covered in blood. Abe couldn’t even guess what the original color had been, he looked like fucking Carrie. There was blood in his hair despite the fact it was sopping wet, it must have dried before he got in the water. He must have scrubbed at his face a bit before he’d gotten in, because that was the clearest part of him. The man behind him… looked identical. Mirror image. The single difference was longer hair.

      “What are you, twins?”

He blew up both of their faces to see them better, and his eyes widened as his mouth fell open.

      “Son of a bitch.”

A few frantic keystrokes later brought up the missing children case that had been filed earlier in the month. Connor and Ellie Brody, reported missing by their father, Chase Brody, not long after their mother, Stacy Brody, had been hospitalized with a self-inflicted knife wound. The case file said Stacy had been released, and a disturbance had been reported at the house that night. Neighbors said the whole place lit up like searchlights, and a car had screamed away from the property right after. The people in charge of the case were looking at both Chase and Stacy as possible suspects in the kidnapping.

      “So what are you doing here, running from water that disappeared, in the same place my partner died. And which fucking one of you is Chase?”

He pulled up what information he could on Chase Brody – recent addresses, one charge of disorderly conduct without jail time, and there, family. One sister, and one brother. Abe pulled up Chandler’s state ID, and his eyes narrowed as his head drew back.

      “What?”

Chandler Brody somewhat resembled his brother, but not to the point where they looked identical. He was taller with a stronger jaw and smaller eyes, the two men on the CCTV could have been twins. Unless Chandler had lost weight, muscle and height in the two months since his license had been renewed, that was a person who didn’t exist on record.

       Or maybe not a person at all.

Abe’s gaze hardened. Maybe the blood-covered bastard had found his way into that storage room. All he’d have to do is lay down to look like a corpse. There couldn’t be two Chase Brodys, and his partner couldn’t have been murdered in an empty room. Two anomalies, one location. It was a lead.

The case file on the Brody kids had statements from both Charlie and Chandler. Both claimed they didn’t now where the parents or children were. One of them had to know something. With renewed determination, Abe slid the pen cap between his bared teeth and wrote their information.

      “I’m going to get to the bottom of this, partner. If it’s the last thing I do.”

Chapter Text

3AM

The lights of Jackson Hydro Dam began to flicker. Florescents threw harsh shadows against the walls of the empty plant. They danced on the white outline of the murdered guard. They danced over the same outline of the junior detective. The generator churned at a slow but steady pace, like the destruction had never happened.

In the stillness of the generator room, a strange charge filled the air. The lights ceased their flickering and instead flared bright, too bright, and the catwalk creaked as a pair of canvas shoes stepped into existence. They took slow, deliberate strides down the length of the catwalk toward the stairs, and that charge swelled with every footfall. Sickly green irises never left the painted summoning circle below. There was no body outline within it. No strips of tape to circle where the drowned man lay. A yellow card with the number 13 stood vigil beside his hard work, but that was all.

The hand that reached down glitched and stuttered, barely solid as the mounting charge caused tiny electrical arcs between the rivets of the generator casing. Fingertips managed to graze the broken line in the summoning circle, carved through during the maelstrom that followed. The glitching grew so fierce it was almost impossible to see the man through the corruption. It had been a suspicion, and now it was confirmed.

Marvin lived.

The door to the surveillance room was all but kicked off its hinges. Tapes of the generator and control room had been left behind, too corrupted for the police to bother. The largest monitor flared to life, but showed only red, green and blue static. A glitching hand pressed against the casing, and with a spark and flash, the static bled from the screen to reveal a clear picture. Chase disappeared beneath the surface of the water, and the circle was broken. Green eyes flared even brighter while the two of them fled, and soon every monitor and light in the room was flickering with the set of his incorporeal jaw. By the time the mirrored pair left the view, the man who watched was little more than a shadowed outline of static.

Footage skipped ahead in time, until the whole of the control room was flooded. Something strange moved with purpose through the water… a bubble. Containing a man. Trench coat, bandaged eyes. Not long after he vanished from the camera feed, the water in the room began to subside.

      "́Ma͏y͏b͠e ̡I c͠hos͟e͡ t̛h͠e̸ ͏w͜r͡ong m̶an f̸o͟r͝ th̵e ͞job̧."

Slow but sure, the generator room repaired itself. Water receded, metal shifted and molded of its own accord, and the casing settled back in its original place. Like nothing had ever happened. The sheer power it would take to do such a thing was staggering, and there was something akin to hunger in the demon’s eyes. The tape rewound until it found the clearest image of the bandaged man through the churning water. Through the writhing static, Anti’s face split into smile.

The full moon shone bright through the windows of the stolen house. It spilled across the guest room bed and over the sleeping outline of the Host. He was lying on his side, hands protectively close to his face, even in sleep. White bandages were fresh and, for once, his lips did not move in the stillness of the night. The only sign of life in the narrator was the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath the comforter.

A green light began to spark and flicker from the slots of an outlet, like a tiny torch shining out from the wall. The Host did not wake as a glitching shadow broke the rays of moonlight and condensed into the form of a man. For the longest moment, the intruder didn't advance. He stood like a statue in the borrowed bedroom, head tilted far to one side, watching his vulnerable prey sleep on. Maybe, like so many times before, he wasn't sure what he wanted next. Maybe, there was something about the narrator that stopped him. Maybe, he just savored the moments before disaster. Knowing it was the last bit of peace before he took it away. It was almost a full two minutes before the glitch reanimated with a lurch, and moved forward. His footsteps were silent and calculated, and a pale hand reached for the narrator’s mouth.

Like a rip through reality, the sound of tearing filled the glitch’s ears, and his vision was consumed by red smoke. Boots landed on his chest and shoulder, but he tore apart in a haze of static before 16-inch needles embedded into the vinyl floor. The Host bolted upright at the sound, and Void manifested in a defensive stance in front of him. Anti reappeared with his own blade in hand, a wide and manic grin stretched across his pallid face as he took in his assailant. He shook a finger at the wraith as he stalked closer.

      “Í ͝k̸now ̀y̨où. ͢I ̧kno̢w ̢wh̛at̶ y̕où ar̢e.́ A̵ ̡b͢yp͠ro͏du͝çt.̡ ̸A ̵f͏ai͞l͞ed͏ ex́peri̛m̵en̡t̡. A̢ ̵róug̡h ̸d͝raf̢t ̸th̀a̧t͢ ̴w̕ent in̡ th̢e͜ t͟raśh.̴”

Void didn’t move a muscle, but the Host could sense the quickening of their pulse as Anti’s grin stretched wider.

      “Ýo͟u ͢su̷r͢v͡iv̧e̸d, ͏but ̶y͞ou̡ ͠we̢re͝n͞'t ǵo̷o̷d ͢eno̡ưgh. So t͝h̴ey ţh́ŕew̸ ỳou̴ ͡a͡side. ̴J͏u͢s̕t li̴k̕e̕ ͠th̵e ͞res͠t̵ of the͢ ̛b͘roken̕ on͟e͘s͡.”

Anti was nearly in reach of those gleaming trocars strapped to Void’s arms, but he didn’t seem to care. His voice dropped even lower as he leaned in.

      “H̴ów does it f̵e͜el̀.͘.. to͞ ͝k͏no͜w t͞h̨ey̸ m͢áde ̢YO̸U͝. W͏h̕e͘n ţhey we̶re̶ ̛t͢ryin͟g.

            “T͡͡o ̶m͠a̵ķe.͠”

                  “M̨E̸͞.͟”

Reality split open and swallowed Void whole, but Anti spun and parried both needles with a swipe of his knife. Both entities shifted in and out of existence almost faster than the eye could see, slicing and stabbing through the smoke and static. The Host hardly breathed in his effort to narrate the whirlwind of a fight, but it was a struggle when the two could slip out of his plane of existence like it was an open door. An edge of desperation began to color his words as they crescendoed through bared teeth.

      “Anti finds it more and more difficult to discorporate his form- he slows, he falters, he can’t KEEP UP, HE WILL FALL TO VOID’S WEAPONS AND HE WILL BE NO MORE-!”

There was a wet squelch and a gurgle as both needles punctured straight through Anti’s ribs and impaled him to the wall. The only part of Void that was solid was their arms as they seethed with unbridled rage. The knife attempted to sink into the teleporter’s side, but they weren’t corporeal enough for the blow to land. Blood sputtered from the slit in Anti’s neck and trickled from his mouth as he tried to breathe around the trocars in his lungs.

A plume of smoke tore Void away from the glitch, and with nothing to hold him up, his back left two smeared trails of blood on the wall.

      “The Host doesn’t trust it, he suspects this is theatrics on Anti’s part, and he-” wasn’t given time to finish before a hand clamped over his mouth with a flash of static.

      “S̡m͞arte̶r ̨t̡ha̢n ͞the͏ o͡t̨hers, aren'͡t̶ yo͞u?̵

Before those needles could find him again, both Anti and the Host glitched out of existence. Void heard an impact in the living room and tore into that space in time to watch fingers arcing with green energy press against the Host’s temple.

      “Lig͡h̛t́s ͝out͢, p͜up̨pe̡t.”

His whole body seized, locked in place before it sagged limp beneath Anti’s hands. He let the narrator crumple to the floor with a heavy thud and his own body stretched into tendrils of static until it vanished in the dark.

      “Host…” Blood dripped from Void’s needles in the deafening silence as they circled the fallen narrator. “Host, you can throw him out. You still have your voice, even if it’s in your head.”

      “That’s why he’s sleeping.”

The Host lurched upright. His movements were unnatural, and the wraith's breath caught when the edges of that trench coat glitched as the blind man climbed to his feet. The Host had always moved with calm, calculated purpose, but it was like watching a scarecrow discover its own limbs. Bending, snapping, twisting like he'd never used his own muscles before, and didn't care if they ripped in the process. Void’s black eyes were wet, the tips of the needles shook, and their body was almost consumed by crimson smoke.

      “... I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll find a way.”

      “Stab this body, byproduct, and he’ll die. Not me. Don’t worry, you’ll get him back when I’m done.” The Host’s face stretched into a wide, uncharacteristic smile as he leaned close to the wraith’s ear. “What’s left of him.”

      “No.”

With a heavy crack of impact, the Host’s body slammed against the far wall and slid several feet in the air. Void’s head snapped around to find the source of that voice, and their breath caught in their throat. The hand outstretched toward the Host was desaturated. Even in the teleporter’s eyes, it looked like it belonged to the dead. A black suit robed a familiar medium build. Disheveled black hair fell on either side of the Host’s face, but he had eyes. The jaw was ground with rage and dark eyes were narrowed as the Host’s double approached his pinned counterpart. Like the glitch and the teleporter, his frame also seemed less than solid, like it took effort to remain, or very little to disappear. Different shades they couldn't have named stretched and contracted off his limbs, and a piercing ring filled the air, along with the Host’s sadistic laugh. It sounded so wrong in his mouth, that high-pitched, delighted cackle.

The mirror strode forward like an oncoming storm, hand still stretched in front of him, and the Host slid even higher. The world around them darkened like the oppressive mask of the void itself, but it only threw the room into sharper detail for the teleporter.

      “Go ahead,” The Host giggled, even as the wall creaked under the pressure that held him aloft. The bandages darkened with blood that began to trickle in streams down both his cheeks. “Kill me. I’ll take him with me. Say g̡oo̶dbỳ̸͢e̸.”

      “You think,” the mirror’s snarled voice was the Host’s, but lower and layered. Like a near-infinite echo of himself. “I don’t know. Where he ends, and you begin?”

The hand twisted and wrenched. The Host was torn off the wall as if yanked by invisible strings, and Anti was left pinned to the groaning drywall. Despite the searing gaze they felt from his alternate, Void dropped beside the Host and dragged him away from the glitch, choosing not to teleport as they did. Anti didn't seem to be resisting his fate, and those frenetic eyes never left the mirror's face until the moment his own head tilted back against the wall. His mouth fell open, and he laughed. Garbled, corrupted, hideous laughter filled their ears like a thing alive, and it felt like it would never end. Both the mouth and the slit in his neck were stretched wide as that grating cackle swelled as loud as the mirror's piercing ring, both competing for sovereignty over that stolen living room. Before the alternate could twist his hand again, Anti glitched out of existence with a crackle of static.

The reaching hand lowered, his jaw still set and eyes hard as the double reached down and straightened his suit jacket. Void had already elevated the Host’s head in their lap and dug the spare bandages out of his pocket. They didn’t bother to look up as the entity surged near.

      “There’s an ice wrap in the freezer. Get it.”

The ringing ramped higher, and it was clear this version of the Host did not like to be ordered. Nonetheless, dress shoes disappeared from view and the wrap materialized with their return. The Host’s breathing was ragged as the double supported him and the icy material was draped around the back of his neck. Anything to help staunch the flow of blood. The bandages fell to the floor with a wet slap, and the fresh ones were wrapped tight over the empty sockets.

      “… You’ve done this before.”

      “Since I got here,” Void answered, and tied the bandages off. “I thought he was dying the first day.”

      “As did I… I did not realize he was. Working with someone, on his mission in this universe.”

      “I didn’t realize he summoned you. He told me he didn’t.”

      “Well,” the man twisted his head until a sickening crack was heard from his neck. “Let’s just say I summoned myself. A taxing ordeal, but not an impossible one. It just took a bit of… charity.”

The man’s face stretched into a predatory smile. A promise to extend that charity again, if it suited him. The teleporter turned their attention back to the Host, and was relieved to find his breathing was just a bit easier.

      “He didn’t tell me you name.”

      “… Dark, is what he calls me. And you?”

      “Void.”

Marvin’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. He’d felt it, a breach against the dome, and was on his feet in half a second. It’d come from behind the house, and the back door burst open on its own, and the wizard’s hands burned with green magic as he stalked toward the man just inside the perimeter.

      “You dare come here?” Marvin snarled, and the figure jumped back from the dome wall with both hands raised. “Marv, it’s me!” Chase called back, and hustled a few steps backward from the wizard’s thunderous approach.

      “Prove it!”

      “I mean- well- first of all, I’m on the inside!” Chase sputtered, still backing up from Marvin’s advance, “I couldn’t sleep, I just wanted some air, I forgot about the invisible shit, Marvin- STOP!”

Chase planted himself to the ground and let his double storm within reach, which was enough to shake Marvin's conviction. “It’s me. It’s Chase. I’m the one who played the universal lottery and got depression. My wife and kids are inside, Chandler’s probably watching from the window, hi Chandler!” Chase waved sarcastically toward the second-floor bedroom, “someday we’ll stop arguing outside at four in the fucking morning, I promise-!”

      “Okay, that’s enough.” The magic faded from Marvin’s hands, and he scrubbed one over his tired face. The adrenaline was receding, and exhaustion was taking its place. “I sensed something against the barrier, I didn’t think it’d be you.”

      “I didn’t think it’d be wired to you, I’m sorry.” Chase looked back toward the woods and sighed. “I’m not going to lie, I really don’t like this thing if we can’t get out. It’s not gonna help us if he gets in.”

Marvin heaved a sigh and nodded. “Tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do. I’d crafted it with the intent that we could move freely, but maybe I was more tired than I thought. At least I know it will warn me if there is a breach.”

      “We know it works, I’ll fucking take it. I’m going to try to go back to sleep, if Chandler doesn’t beat my ass for this. I don’t know how the fuck I’m ever going to make this shit up to him.”

      “Well,” Marvin pulled the back door open, and beckoned Chase inside, “I think surviving may be a good start. We’ll work our way up from there.”

Chapter Text

10AM

Ellie knew they had to hide from the monster at Uncle Chandler’s, because he wanted to hurt daddy and Mr. Marvin, but she was so bored. There was nothing to do at Uncle Chandler’s house except watch TV. After some near frustrated tears, Ellie went on the prowl. A chair was pushed against the kitchen counter, and tiny hands retrieved every coffee mug from the drying rack before snagging the kettle as well. A picture of Aunt Charlie was pried off the wall. Books with covers of a scary cat, a clown, a dinosaur skeleton and a shark were pulled off the shelves. Pillows were stolen from the closet and off the couch, and Ellie dumped all of her hard work onto the guest room floor. One by one, a pillow was placed under a ‘guest’ in a circle, a mug put in front of each, and tea party was happening.

Until she went to pour the empty kettle.

The five year old heaved a theatrical sigh and set the tea kettle back on the floor with a disappointed thunk. It sat there for a moment, thinking about what it did, before blue eyes lit up. Ellie gathered the tea kettle to her chest and all but ran down the stairs, out the back door, and along the porch to the cloaked man seated in one of the rickety wooden chairs.

      “Mr. Marvin!!!”

The wizard looked up in alarm as Ellie ran toward him like a bat out of hell, and was on his feet in half a heartbeat.

      “What!? What’s wrong!?”

Ellie all but crashed into him, and drew in a monumental inhale before holding up the kettle like an offering.

      “Can you make me magic tea?”

Marvin’s face went through a range of emotions, his mouth opened and shut, and his brows furrowed as the tea kettle was lifted out of Ellie’s hands with hesitation.

      “Um… sure.”

Ellie stayed right by his pant leg as Marvin walked in a daze back into the house and filled the kettle at the kitchen sink. Her eyes widened as it was put on the stove to get warm. Magic tea was never warm – this this was going to be special. She hiked herself up onto a kitchen chair, planted both elbows on the table and both hands under her chin to watch. Marvin’s hand traced the air like he was going through an invisible cupboard, pausing now and then with a faint shake of his head before he pulled a tin out of thin air with a flash of green. He glanced around the kitchen for a skeptical moment before a silver mesh ball on a chain was pulled out of the air as well.

      “Mr. Marvin-”

      “You don’t have to call me Mr. Marvin.”

      “Mister, are you sad cause you miss home?”

The wizard dropped the diffuser into the kettle and lowered the lid like it had grown too heavy in his hand. It was a long moment before her father’s face turned to meet her own.

      “You look like daddy when he’s super sad. I don’t like it when daddy’s super sad, cause mommy gets scared.”

Marvin's eyes dropped, and Ellie almost felt bad for telling him that. She watched as he sucked in a deep breath and let it go as he knelt down to meet her at eye level.

      “… I’m okay. I’ve got a job to do, and that’s protecting you and your family. I promise I’ll be happy when you guys are safe… can I ask you something?” he paused as Ellie used almost her whole body to nod. “Is Connor alright? Every time I walk into a room, he leaves.”

      “He thinks you’re the monster.”

Marvin’s eyes slid shut, and the super sad face returned, super tired this time. Ellie couldn’t help it, he looked too much like her dad. Tiny arms reached out and wrapped around his neck. Marvin went rigid in her hold, like he’d never been hugged before.

      “I know you’re not the monster. He doesn’t stop smiling.”

The wizard made a strange noise at that, and a hand rubbed her back exactly once before he pulled away. Ellie let him go, and watched as the tea kettle lid was lifted. Marvin gave a little here goes shrug and sent a shimmer of green into the brewed tea. The diffuser was fished out, but it had a noticeable sheen to it, like glitter. Both of Ellie's palms smacked her cheeks as Marvin offered her the kettle.

      “Go head, it won’t burn you. Magic tea.”

      “How magic is it!?” Ellie asked, eyes saucer wide as Marvin offered a ghost of a smile.

      “As magic as I’m willing to leave in the hands of a five year old.”

      “How magic is that?”

The smile managed to take hold, and he gave the little girl and amused shake of his head.

      “Not fuckin’ very.”

Ellie cackled at his curse, like she always did when the grown-ups slipped up and said the bad words. She hopped down from the kitchen chair and was careful tugging the kettle down with her while Marvin straightened back to his full height. Ellie didn’t want to spill a drop of her REAL magic tea. She held it to her chest and looked at the wizard in a new light.

      “Do you want to come tea party?”

Marvin opened his mouth to answer, but his eyes shifted to the entryway. Ellie looked over to find Chase leaning against the frame, and she almost ran to him before remembering her precious cargo.

      “Daddy! Mr. Marvin made me magic tea!”

      “He did, huh?” Chase’s hand reached down to ruffle her hair. “Let me talk to Marv for a bit, okay? Go have fun with your magic tea.”

For once, Ellie didn’t run. She had precious cargo that had to be taken care of. If Mr. Marvin didn’t stay, this might be her last real magic tea ever. She was sad Kevin, Floppy, Gerald and Queen Sting Ray would miss it, but she’d tell them all about it when they got home.

Ellie left out an empty pillow just in case, put a cup in front of the picture frame and all the books, and poured the kettle with the deepest concentration. A little gasp escaped at the swirling black liquid that glittered no matter where the light hit it. The magic tea looked like the night sky in a cup – Ellie swore she could see stars and constellations. The tea was sweet to the point of perfection against her tongue, exactly the way she liked it. She almost didn’t want to share. Well… that was the secret about tea party. Her guests couldn't drink it.

A galaxy was poured into every mug, including the one placed as an offering to an empty pillow.

      “I’m still mad at you for breaking my room,” Ellie scolded, and sat on her knees to drink her own cup of magic tea. “But you can still have some. All my friends are at home. But you’re still my-”

The world ripped open behind the youngest Brody, and Ellie whipped around in time to watch red smoke dissipate around the haggard outline of her imaginary friend, slumped on the floor with their back to the wall. Ellie’s face crunched in frantic concentration as she poured a more acceptable amount of magic tea into Void’s mug and scooted on her knees to the teleporter’s side.  

      “Here! This will make it better for sure.”

The mug was accepted and almost raised to colorless lips before the entity looked inside. Void’s head tilted at the shimmering, glittering liquid, and it took a genuine moment to speak.

      “… What is this.”

      “Magic tea! For real this time,” Ellie exclaimed, but Void looked less than reassured. “What does it do?” The girl thought for a moment before both hands upturned in an apologetic shrug.

      “Magic?”

There was a faint huff of amusement, and Void gave the brew an experimental sip. The mug was drawn back and scrutinized with wary surprise.

      “Isn’t it so nice and sweet!?”

      “Sweet, no,” the mirrored sunglasses glanced over at Ellie with bewilderment, “it’s strong, and complex… tastes caffeinated at least.” A few more generous gulps were taken before white hair fell back against the wall. Ellie dragged a pillow over and plopped it right in front of the teleporter before settling down on it herself.

      “You were s’posed to find Daddy. You and the scary man. That was your job.”

      “I was supposed to do a lot of things, Ellie.” Void sounded exhausted, and fingertips rubbed at an eye under the sunglasses. “He’s not scary. He’s just different. I’m different. You’re not scared of me.”

Ellie turned that over in her head with a frown. Void did look scary the first time, but she stopped being afraid when they put on daddy’s coat. There wasn’t anything scary about somebody who was just cold.

      “… I guess just the blood is scary. Are you okay? Cause you don’t look so good.”

      “I’ve been better.”

      “Was it the monster?”

Ellie’s voice was hushed, and the red reflection of Void’s sunglasses showed a pale face lean into view from the hallway.

The world tore open, and Ellie was pulled into a crushing whirlwind of red.

Alarms had tripped everywhere, everywhere, the danger was everywhere and Marvin was shaking as he took stock of all the Brodys but Ellie. He couldn’t find the little girl, or the glitch, and that terrified him. He’d done enough damage already – he couldn’t stand the thought of such a young life being snuffed out by his own hubris.

Arcane senses nudged him toward the guest bedroom, and Marvin stalked down the hall like a silent predator. He heard Ellie’s voice, and another he wasn’t certain of, and his sweaty palms began to glow with emerald flame. Marvin craned his neck around the door frame and caught a glimpse of a white-haired person wrapped in black. Just a glimpse, before foreign hands seized Ellie, and both of them vanished from reality in a plume of crimson smoke.

      “ELLIE!”

Marvin’s fear ramped up to eleven as the everywhere EVERYWHERE alarm bells sounded through every fiber of his being. Whatever this thing was, it tripped every atom of that protection spell, almost to the point of overwhelming the wizard it was bound to. The tearing sound came again, and the smoke dropped Ellie onto the bed with an “Oof.” He wasn’t given time to react before a heavy impact to the sternum sent Marvin hurtling off his feet. A sharp grunt of pain was torn from his throat as his spine hit the stair railing hard enough for wood to splinter. Marvin’s arm swung back and launched a bolt of magic down the hall before his vision even settled, and the streak of green passed through thin air to punch into one of the many logs that held the cabin together. Footsteps were pounding up the stairs as the air in front of him began to shear open, but the gathering fireball in his palm was stifled by a solid hand that cinched around his wrist.

      “IT’S NOT HIM!”

Chase had all but manifested in front of Marvin, one hand in an iron grip over the wizard’s forearm, and the other outstretched between two massive hollow needles that had stopped a scant inch from his throat.

      “IT’S NOT HIM! It’s NOT him! Listen, listen to me, Void, please. It’s not HIM.” Chase stared down the surging cloud of red, determined to hold his gaze where he thought the demon's eyes should be, ignoring how hard the raised hand trembled. “He- he’s like the Host. He’s from another universe. It’s not him.”

After a tense moment, a body solidified in the crimson haze, but it was shaking. The androgynous face that manifested was twisted, cracking, but hanging on. If only just. Marvin couldn’t help the bitter emotions that rose like bile in his throat at Chase risking his life for him. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Marvin made the mess, he should be the one to pay whatever price it demanded. And yet here was Chase, using his own body like a shield to protect the magician.

The needles lowered, and that concealed gaze never left Marvin’s face as the entity slumped back against the wall with a ragged inhale. Marvin knew that stance like the back of his hand, he’d shared it too many times. Spent beyond reason, caught in the vacuum adrenaline left behind. The teleporter was running on empty. Chase climbed to his feet with caution and chanced a few steps closer.

      “How did you get in? We thought this place was protected.”

      “The same way I get anywhere.”

Void’s back slid down the wall, and Chase turned a concerned look back toward Marvin. The wizard’s teeth were bared against the pain in his back, and the implications of those words. If his magic hadn’t stopped someone Anti-adjacent, it wouldn’t stop the bastard himself.

      “Why are you here,” Chase wheezed through his own receding adrenaline, “Where’s Host?”

The two men flinched as the needles vanished with a far more muted tear than they were used to, and Void’s head came to rest against the wall.

      “He found us. Things have changed.”

      “Changed how?” Marvin moved forward, but was pinned in place by a warning glare.

      “He’s looking for more power. He tried to take the Host. He almost did.”

No one said a word. The silence that spilled in around them was deafening. Chase crashed to a seat himself, and swiped a nervous hand through his hair. The ability to narrate reality was not a power Marvin felt anyone should have, let alone the glitch. His own racing thoughts almost drowned Void’s murmured words.

      “Who did he pull into this universe. Who and why. We need to know.”

      “… Me.”

Marvin pushed himself up with a grimace, and managed not to react to the thrumming haze of red that began to manifest. “He wants us both dead, but his priority is me. I’m glad the Host was able to resist him.”

      “It was only because he had help,” Void hissed, and their very outline began to shimmer. “I don’t think we can count on that help again. If the glitch wants you, and you can’t keep me out, then this mess is worse than I thought.”

      “It’s worse than that, even.” Chase found his voice at last, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. “The void, the place, it wants me. It wants out. I fuckin’ wish our problems stopped with Anti, but it’s bigger than that.”

      “One thing at a time,” Marvin said. “We kill the glitch. Then we… we figure out how to sever the connection. We go from there.”

Tires were heard crunching up the dirt road, and every head in the house turned. Chandler risked a glance out one of the front windows and his face went sheet pale.

      “CHASE,” he stage whispered up the stairs. “CHASE, it’s the COPS."

Chapter Text

       What do we do, what the FUCK do we DO

Chase’s mind was churning static. The whole family was in the house, there was no explaining Marvin, and absolutely no explaining Void. Or the fact he and Stacy were there with the kids. Chandler was already rushing the kids and Stacy out of sight of the front door when a solid crash echoed throughout the cabin.

      “The barrier,” Marvin whispered, and Chase couldn’t decide if that was good luck or not. Numbed legs twitched to push himself standing again, but Chandler threw up a palm from downstairs to wait. It was his house, it should be him. The eldest Brody took a deep breath, steeled himself, and opened the front door.

Between the push bar on the front end and the fact it hadn’t been exactly speeding, the police car was fine. A bald man in a leather jacket stood outside, and Chandler couldn’t help but wince as he pressed a hand against the invisible wall that separated them. The man’s gaze was thrown left, right, above, below, searching for a power source for the force field as Chandler slowly approached.

      “This is, ah. Pretty fancy tech for a place in the middle of god damn nowhere. You Chandler Brody?”

      “Do you have a warrant?”

A rather unhinged smile snapped across the officer’s face, and it made Chandler’s blood run cold. The man straightened to his full height and stepped as close as he possibly could to the barrier.

      “No, I don’t. But considering there’s a missing person case on your niece and nephew combined with the fact we have statements from you clearly stating you don’t know where your brother Chase is, and his wife, Stacy, was reported missing by her sister, and both their cars are in your driveway… buddy, I would have no issue getting a warrant. But if you make me get back in that car and drive, two HOURS, to go GET ONE. I’ll bring the whole fucking cavalry with me, so why don’t you and I just talk.”

There was really no refuting anything the man said, the evidence was fifteen feet behind him. If he played his cards wrong, his brother and sister-in-law would end up in fucking jail.

      “Alright. Let’s talk. Start with who you are.”

      “Abe Lincoln, I’m a detective. Don’t-” Abe snapped at Chandler’s snort, “give me that look, I’m not lying, my parents are real comedians. Now, there’s a lot to unpack here, and we’ll get to it all, but first? First, I need to know what your brother was doing at Jackson Hydro Dam three days ago.”

Chandler’s brows furrowed, and his mouth hung open for a second.

      “I thought that place was abandoned?”

      “Well, it’s supposed to be.” Abe again pressed the side of his fist against the boundary of Marvin’s magic, and heaved a sharp inhale when it refused to give. “But like invisible walls, something weird happened there. You see, Jackson tripped every alarm in the book. High stress, critical failure, you name it. When we got there, everything was fine. Only problem was there was a guard with his throat slit outside, some kind of cult séance circle, and some very interesting CCTV footage of not one, but two Chase Brodys running away from a wall of water that physically could not have been there.”

It was a fight to keep his face neutral, but Chandler was extremely grateful that Abe could not get in. He wasn’t sure how long he could play stupid before the man snapped completely.

      “Where did the water come from if the place was fine? And how could there be two Chases?”

      “I don’t know. What I do know, is that one of them was absolutely covered in blood. Like somebody had dumped a bucket on him. He looked like a walking corpse. And a corpse was exactly what my partner called in at that very same facility, later that night.” There was an almost manic light behind the detective’s eyes, and Chandler felt a shiver run down his spine.

      “I got a call on the radio saying he’d discovered another body. Then a broken reply that it might not be dead. And the last thing. My partner ever said. Was ‘this place is haunted.’ Do you know how I found him?”

Numbly, Chandler shook his head, and he resisted the urge to take a step back as Abe continued.

      “I found him locked in an empty room, gray as dishwater, with a broken fucking neck. In the same place as a flood that didn’t happen, one normal and one blood-covered Chase Brody, when the only other person capable of looking like his twin is you, and now? Now I’ve been led here, to his car and a magic wall I can’t get through, which makes me think I chose the right sibling to follow.”

Abe could only move left or right, and seemed to be testing Marvin’s magic for weaknesses.

      “Something, or someone, killed my partner that night. He was still screaming by the time I reached the door, and he was the only person inside. So if he can’t have been murdered in an empty room, and there can’t be two Chase Brodys… then I’m thinking the one I saw, covered in blood, is the thing killed my partner.”

Blue eyes watched the detective seethe, having followed a thread that any sane person would have found deranged. Chandler heaved a deep inhale, and mentally crossed his fingers.

      “Are you sure you believe all that? Because it sounds insane.”

      “No-NO,” Abe tried to point at Chandler, but his arm only smacked the barrier with a frustrated grunt, “What’s insane is the way my partner DIED! That corpse is REAL! The coroner couldn’t even pretend it was a suicide, SOMETHING. MURDERED HIM. Every shred of logic points to that, but there’s no logic in the how. In the WHY. I’m not gonna stop until I know, what the FUCK, HAPPENED IN THERE.”

      “What if I told you it only gets worse?”

That took the wind out of the detective’s sails in an instant. His brows momentarily knit before his eyes went wide.

      “You know something, what do you know!?”

      “First,” Chandler subtly squared his shoulders, “first, I’m going to need some guarantees from you.”

Abe let out a bark of laughter at the gall, and it tapered with a shake of his head. “Buddy, that’s not how this works.”

      “Buddy, I think it is.” Chandler lowered his voice, and a heavy boot stepped a foot closer. “Because we are the only people in a hundred thousand miles who believe you.”

Abe’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line as Chandler closed the distance between them.

      “You can go ahead and call the fucking cavalry. Hell, call the FBI, none of them are getting in here. Even if they could, we’d have a four-hour head start to hole up somewhere else. If they catch us, they’ll lock us all up, sure. But not a single one of them is going to ask us what happened to him. That won’t be why we’re there. And if by chance they let you in? We still won’t tell you a god damn thing. So if you want to know what happened to your partner, you’re going to have to help us out in return.”

Abe’s face had flushed several shades of red. Chandler could only imagine how much worse it would be if Marvin’s magic hadn’t been there to protect them. He watched the man’s face twist and finally manage to spit out words.

      “I am a detective. You can’t just hold this over my head!”

      “I gotta look out for my own family, they’re in a lot of danger right now, and we’ve got nowhere to turn. You want closure? This is the only place you’re gonna get it. Because I promise right now, you could tell the whole fucking world, and no one would ever believe you.”

The detective’s face could have been set in stone. Only his eyes seemed alive, and that gaze felt like it tore straight through him. For the longest moment, the only sound was the wind stirring through the forest behind the cabin. Like flipping a breaker, Abe reanimated with the spit of a curse, and wrenched away from Chandler to wrap both hands behind his head.

      “We need help, man. We’re in the same boat you are, no one is gonna believe us. They’ll take the kids and arrest my brother for just trying to keep his family safe!”

The snap of Abe’s neck was so abrupt that Chandler visibly recoiled.

      “Safe from who?” he asked slowly, but it was evident he already knew.

      “From the thing that killed your partner.”

There was a heavy silence. Abe sucked in a deep breath and let his head hang before his gaze managed to lift.

      “That’s why the bubble, isn’t it? It makes sense now… what do you need from me?”

      “I need you to get rid of any case they’re building against my brother and Stacy. Don’t fuckin’ laugh at me,” It was Chandler’s turn to be indignant at Abe’s scoff, “They’re in there right now terrified that you’re going to take the kids where they can’t protect them. They’re being stalked, make something about that, get it fucking dismissed!”

      “That’s not how it works-”

      “Oh, give me a fucking break! Cops always manage to make shit go their way! You drove two hours to the middle of fucking nowhere, half out of your mind because this time you can’t.”

      “You,” Abe actually managed to point at him this time, his face so very red, “you are on thin fucking ice, buddy.”

      “Of course I’m on thin ice, Abe!” Chandler spread both his hands in a wide arc above his head, “why else would I be in a god damn bubble?! Can you help us – or not.”

The detective’s eyes slid shut, and Chandler couldn’t help the stirring of hope in his gut. If they couldn’t get the narrator to rewrite the script, Abe would be the next best thing. Without either of them, the road was going to end in blood, grief, and the void eating whatever was left.

      “I…” Abe struggled to find his voice, “I might be able to make it less awful. It’ll take some work, but I’ve got sway. Stalker could work, and I guess that’s not technically wrong, is it?”

      “Stalker is exactly what this is. I told you it gets worse, because there aren’t two Chases.”

     “Wha- no-” the detective squared defensively, “I saw the tape, there were two! One covered in blood, and one wearing like a cloak or something-”

      “There’s three.”

Those two words hung in the air, and Chandler could tell Abe was fighting the urge to scoff.

      “Okay? Evil triplet is a new one for me, but I’m listening?”

      “It’s new for us, there used to be just two.”

A mirthless laugh escaped the detective, and he let his forehead smack against the barrier with frustration. “Was the bloody one the bastard who killed my partner?”

      “No, that was just Chase. He slit his throat, blood poured all over him. They thought he was finally dead, but no. He got up, neck hanging wide open, stole my brother and took him to that dam.”

      “Stole him how?” the humor had fled from Abe’s voice, and Chandler was slow to find his.

      “He can just… possess people. Wear them like a fucking suit. I know you read Stacy’s files, and she didn’t try to slit her own throat. He took over her body, and tried to kill her. Then he tried to take the kids. What’s really fucked up, is he can look like a fucking monster, or he can just look like Chase. Because he is Chase. Some fucked up nightmare version from the void.”

It took a moment to digest all of that, and Abe scrubbed a hand over his mouth as he chose his words.

      “That all sounds… absolutely fucking insane. But… could this nightmare version kill somebody and get out a locked room without opening the door?”

      “Yes,” Chandler answered quickly, “yes, he could. He can disappear, reappear, teleport, you name it. The more electricity a place has, the stronger he is. The hydro dam? The cult circle? He needed power, and he used it to pull in and try to kill another version of Chase from a different universe. That version is the one you saw on the tape that looked normal, and he happens to be the sad fucker currently crashing on my couch. It wouldn’t surprise me if the bastard couldn’t function right after using that much energy, and he waited to use the first thing that looked his way as a fucking battery.”

      “… So my,” Abe looked like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, “my partner died. Over some. Interdimensional demon feud. Am I understanding that correctly?”

      “I’m sorry,” Chandler’s voice rang with sincerity as Abe sank into a crouch. “I’m really sorry, man. But that’s what we’re up against. That’s who’s trying to kill Chase, and Stacy, and their kids. That’s why we’re holed up here, because who would ever believe us?”

Abe sucked in a deep breath and straightened.

      “I’m going to need more details. Every detail. Let me in.”

      “I…” Chandler glanced back to the cabin, “that’s not up to me. I’m going to have to have a long talk with everyone inside.”

      “Then talk.” The detective took a seat on the hood of the car. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

 “You told him everything!?”

Stacy voiced the indication Chase couldn’t, his mouth locked and numb. Chandler had made a calculated play, but there was no telling if it was the ­right play.

      “I could take care of it.”

Void’s deadpan offer was met with a unified NO in four separate voices. They raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Just saying.”

      “I’m glad you wanna help,” Chase scrubbed both hands over his face and forced a calm he didn’t feel, “but a dead cop on my watch would fuck my life so bad, I might as well let Anti kill me.”

      “The void could look at our prison system and take notes, honestly,” Stacy muttered, still an alarming shade of white. Chase wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and knew she’d feel the tremble in his own body. They were balanced on the edge of a knife, waiting to fall on side ‘fucked’ or ‘more fucked.’

      “Look,” Chandler huffed, “he’s not here for the kids, he’s here because Anti killed his partner at the dam and vanished. He’s been going out of his mind trying to figure out how the guy got murdered in an empty room.”

      “Mmmm,” all their gazes turned at Void’s contemplative noise, “… did he say when his partner was killed?”

Chase’s shoulders sank and his entire body listed under the weight of that singular question.

      “Tell me you didn’t kill somebody else.”

      “Not me,” Void dismissed. “If this was after the Host repaired the dam… there’s a chance it wasn’t Anti.”

      “Who, then?” Marvin spoke up at last, and glanced back from his post at the front window. So far, the detective had only pushed at the magical barrier a bit further before returning to sit on the car. “If not Anti and not you, who killed this man? The Host?”

      “A friend of his. Someone from the void of his universe.”

Chase’s eyes slid shut, and he turned away from the whole group with the urge to scream. One thing after another after another. There was so much weight on his shoulders, it felt like a twig could snap his spine.

      “Is that where we’re at? I’m pulling in fuckers from universes that aren’t even mine?” His heels pivoted, and he nearly walked into the billow of smoke that manifested the wraith an inch from his nose.

      “He’s here under his own power. The glitch left a pretty big gap in the veil, and it seems he shared a universe with the man Anti was after.”

      “Oh good, so that’s another death on my hands,” Marvin deadpanned, “I’m starting to lose count. Does that mean the Host is from my universe? The man who can narrate reality? We never even saw a hint of that...”

      “I hate to break this all up, but can we get back to the entire police officer that is sitting in my front yard?” Chandler’s voice rose above them all, and the room fell silent. “Void, is the guy who killed this cop’s partner as bad as Anti?”

      “That’s a matter of perspective. Dark, the Host and I are all ‘as bad’ as Anti. But the glitch is the one trying to ruin your lives. He would kill someone for being there, especially,” the glasses turned toward Marvin, “if he just realized you weren’t dead.”

The magician looked like he’d lost every last ounce of rest gained since Anti pulled him to their universe. Tired beyond words. Marvin sucked in a breath and nodded.

      “If this ‘Dark’ would kill him for investigating, we may as well blame Anti. Void is right, it’s not like he would have shown mercy.”

      “We need him united with us if we don’t want to be taken in for kidnapping,” Stacy murmured, and both Connor and Ellie looked up at her with wide eyes. “Marvin’s right. We say it was Anti, we tell him what he’s done to our family, and why we couldn’t go home. It’s our only chance.”

      “I think,” Marvin took one last look out the window and finally stepped away. “Void and I shouldn’t be here. If you don’t mind, I’d like help testing new defenses. You two move similarly.”

 For a moment, the teleporter was frighteningly still, and Chase let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when their stance caved with a small nod.

      “Fine. Are you letting the bastard in?”

Marvin winced, almost like someone had poked him, and threw a look back toward the window. Chase leaned forward to watch the detective pushing against the barrier with all his might. His look of exertion turned to shock as his whole body pitched forward unsupported, and the Abe all but crashed into the dirt on the other side.

      “For now. Come on.”

The wizard and the wraith filed out the back door, leaving the Brodys behind.

It was a long, painful conversation, dredging up every horror Anti had committed against their family. Chase himself had to supply nearly all of it, down to Marvin’s actions two years prior and the day he’d tried to take his own life. The children had been taken to the kitchen for snacks during that particular story. Abe asked his questions here and there, but for the most part, he listened. His face softened when Ellie, eyes brimmed with tears, stammered a plea not to take Chase and Stacy away.

      “I’m not going to, sweetheart. They’re not the bad guys here.”

An enormous weight had lifted from Chase’s shoulders, and he was slumped with exhaustion on the couch by the time it was over. Chandler was leaning against the wall, arms folded, and Stacy had both kids in her lap. Connor and Ellie watched Abe pace back and forth, contemplating, before heavy boots carried him to the kitchen window.

      “So that’s him, huh? The wizard? And the- what, demon? How many times has Marvin almost been killed for identity theft?”

      “Two,” Chase dragged both hands down his face, “guessing it would have been three if the dome wasn’t up.”

      “Actually, I was gunning for you.” Abe looked back at Chase with a wry smile. “You were absolutely covered in blood on the CCTV, he had longer hair and wasn’t. I thought you were the one who played dead and killed my partner.”

Chase snorted, and slumped back against the couch. “Bet he’s insulted as fuck right now, the weakest leak getting credit for his shit.”

      “Okay-” Abe leaned closer to the back window, dark eyes narrowed at the efforts of Marvin and Void, “are we fucking sure it wasn’t that… that person out there? Void? What with the no skin color and disappearing smoke shit? Cause I’d have an easier time believing what I’m seeing with my own eyes than ‘there’s a third alternate reality Chase.’”

      “That’s my friend.” Ellie’s tiny voice spoke up, and he turned to face the bristling five year old. “My friend is different. Just like Mr. Marvin.”

Abe really didn’t have a response to that, and Chase dragged himself off the couch to join the detective’s watch over the pair outside.

      “She’s right. Anti came for my kids, they got them out in time. Coulda been handled a lot better, but Void is part of the reason he didn’t get his hands on them.”

A sigh was pushed through the detective’s nose, and he finally pulled away from the window. The jacket had long since come off, and Chase realized Abe had only gotten more disheveled the longer his story had gone on. ­­­It was a lot to take in, even more to actually believe, but Abe seemed to. It was more than they could have hoped for – someone in authority who believed them.

      “So what is the- the plan, here? Widogast, Nightcrawler and Stranger than Fiction are gonna close the void?”

      “Something like that.” Stacy muttered behind her mug of coffee. “At least we haven’t seen any signs of it for a bit.”

      “This is insane,” Abe shook his head and pulled his damp collar open wider, “this is all fucking insane. I have no idea what I’m going to say back at the station. Just… everyone sit tight, stay in the barrier, try to figure out what your next move is. We’ve already got a fucking- electricity demon on our hands, I don’t want to fight the upside down, too… Jesus, alright, is there a bathroom I can use?”

      “Upstairs, on the left,” Chandler pointed, and watched Abe stride past him with a nod of thanks.

The room let out a collective sigh of relief. No one was getting arrested. No one was taking the kids. Chase shook his head and climbed the stairs himself, desperate to peel off the t-shirt he’d sweated through. Aside from Anti’s hell, that was the most he’d been stressed in some time. Every bit of him ached in the vacuum it left behind, and muscles protested even the simple act of lifting the fabric above his head. The offending shirt was tossed in the corner hamper, and one of Chandler’s was dug out of the dresser. One size too big, but at least it was clean. Pale hands pulled it straight, and Chase turned to find the guest bedroom plunged into darkness.

Cold water splashed over Abe’s face, and he let it hang over the porcelain sink. A hand slipped under the gentle trickle of the faucet and shook before swiping over the back of his burning neck. It was… fuck, it was a lot. There was no one on earth he could talk to about any of it, he was alone. Completely, utterly, alone. This family was running scared from an evil he could barely comprehend, despite seeing the aftermath with his own eyes. The junior detective’s stared back every time he closed them. Glazed, empty, gone. Abe wasn’t sure if knowing was better, when there was no possible way to bring a glitch demon from the void to justice.

      “At least you know,” he murmured to himself. “At least you know. And maybe you can help stop this thing from killing someone else.”

The cold water knob squeaked shut, and he patted his face and neck dry with a hand towel. It was hung back on the hook and the door opened to reveal Chase Brody in the room directly across the hall, staring right through him.

      “Jesus Christ,” Abe recoiled before his face hardened, “don’t do that to me.”

Only silence hung thick in the air. Chase stood deathly still in the middle of the bedroom, eyes that could have been made of glass fixed on his. Abe’s squinted as he chanced a step forward.

      “Mr. Brody? Are you alright?” Abe shifted subtly to the left in his approach and found Chase’s gaze did not follow. “Chase. Hey.” He snapped his fingers to no response, and felt a chill run up his spine. Chase’s tired face and the unnatural stillness of his body gave him all the appearance of a wax figurine. Lifelike enough you’d swear it could move, but you hoped to god it didn’t.

      “Chase. Chase.” Abe hesitantly gave his shoulder a light shake, but Brody didn’t move. The detective’s head snapped around as the alarm clock radio began to churn static through dated speakers. The overhead light flickered on and off and soon the single lightbulb in the closet joined in. The static ebbed and swelled with the flickering of the lights, and every instinct in Abe’s body screamed run. The same flickering lights had preceded the death of his partner.

Breath caught in Chase’s lungs at the crushing silence of the fallout-dusted bedroom. That haunting green glow emanated from nowhere and everywhere, and the creak of the floorboard as he inched a step may as well have been a gunshot. The air was dusty and stagnant, it coated his throat like ash and consumed all of his willpower not to cough.

       Am I here in spirit or here for real? Is there even a difference?

Chase’s heart jumped into his throat at the slow creak of the front door opening downstairs. Without even thinking, he threw himself as quietly as possible into the closet and shut the door. Ears strained in the darkness, but not for long. Footsteps, loud and echoing, strode across the first floor. He could feel blood pounding in his veins, flooded with fear as those steps drew closer. And closer. A hand instinctively clapped over his own mouth as they hit the first stair. For a moment, Chase didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear anything but the roar of blood in his ears.

With terrifyingly broken, unnatural speed, the footsteps began to run.

      “Alright, Chase, wake up!” Brody was seized by both shoulders and shook hard before a hand slapped the side of his blank face. “Right now, Chase, wake up!” The lights flickered so fast they may as well have been strobes, and Abe swore he heard the sound of someone running down a hall through the radio static.

      “CHASE, WAKE U-UP!” His own voice rose with his mounting fear as he violently shook Brody’s shoulders. “I DON’T LIKE THIS, CHASE, WAKE UP!”

Abe watched Brody’s heather blue eyes slowly cloud over with black, until nothing else remained. He let go as if burned and reeled back a few steps as the black slowly crept out from his eyes in a spiderweb of veins across his pale face.

       “Don’t be the monster, man, I don’t want to shoot you, CHASE, PLEASE!”

The closet door had flung open, and with a howl, Chase was pressed to the floor by a staggering wave of darkness. He watched veins black as pitch creep over his hands, up his arms, and it felt like they’d been dipped in novocaine. Heavy and thick and no longer his. Chase struggled against the entity’s influence, but it felt like his whole body was shutting down. Muscles slowed and deadened, and it felt like trying to breathe through someone else’s lungs.  

No words filtered through his ears, but his numbing mind could almost sense foreign, amorphous thoughts.

      Let me in.

            Let me into your world.

                  Let me devour its LIGHT.

                        I T ’ S  B E E N

                  S  O

      L   O   N   G

The spike of fear wasn’t enough to reanimate his paralyzed body. It wasn’t the darkness of the void that was closing in, it was the dimming of his own consciousness. Part of him knew if he slept, it wouldn’t be Chase Brody who woke up again. The rest of him knew, with some shred of relief, that this wasn’t the void itself trying to kill him. It wasn’t the veins he saw snaking, hunting across the cabin floor. It wasn’t the enormity of presence that threatened to overwhelm him just by existing. This was just another monster that lived here, and had gotten lucky.

      You’re not getting in, he thought sluggishly, eyes nearly shut against the dusty wooden floor of the closet. You’re not strong enough. You’re nobody.

Like flicking on a switch, life flooded back into Chase’s body. Warming, surging, flushing out the novocaine. The humanoid shadow recoiled as if shocked, and Chase found the strength to sit up on his own. Familiar green flames burned from his ashen palms, but it did not hurt. It felt like a set of perfect broken-in gloves – warm and intimately his.

       “You want light?” His own voice echoed in the void, an Irish accent layered beneath his own, and he knew. It was Marvin, right there with him, giving Chase the power to fight back. The entity seemed to swell in shape, encompassing the room with its crushing darkness in an attempt to regain control.

      “I’ll give you light.”

Chase’s arm drew back, and emerald fire burned the shadow with a screech that reverberated in his very bones. It dissipated before the echo faded from his pounding ears, and Chase saw a familiar shimmering green outline near the crumbling dresser.

Sweat dripped down Marvin’s face, and he gasped at the sudden shift beneath his glowing hands. Chase reanimated and lurched back a step, but the wizard caught his shoulders and held him steady.

      “Easy, easy, look at me, Chase, look at me.”

The panicked man swallowed hard and turned to meet the same shade of heather blue eyes, and Marvin let out a sigh of relief. “You’re alright, you’re not there anymore.”

Chase sagged back against the dresser and tried to just breathe. The whole cabin was in there with him, and he felt Stacy’s arms circle around his shoulders.

      “I thought I was dead,” he wheezed, “I don’t know what that thing was… does everything in the void want to kill me?”

      “Not personally, but it has its share of predators. You were just unlucky enough to slip the veil in time to meet one.”

His forehead came to rest against Stacy’s cheek, and never was he more grateful for her grounding. “Marv, how did I do magic?”

The wizard smiled, both at Chase and himself.

       “We’re the same person. I just needed you to remember.”

Chase managed a small nod and tried to stand, only to feel his knees fold under him. Both Stacy and Marvin grabbed the vlogger before jellied legs could bring Chase straight to the ground, and they helped walk him over to the bed.

      “We gotta close the veil,” he pleaded, somewhat strengthened by the strain of standing taken off his battered body. Chase caught sight of a very pale detective before his gaze rose instead to meet Marvin’s. “We’re running out of time… I don’t know how much more of this I’ve got. I only made it cause of you.”

      “We’re working on it,” Marvin tried to give Chase a reassuring smile and couldn’t. “… We all just need to hang on a little longer.”

Chapter Text

Black eyes had watched in silence from the shadows, and they disappeared before the magician’s gaze could land in their direction. As jarring as the teleportation process was for those who witnessed, the wraith could move silent as death when they wished.

So could Marvin.

He followed Void, and leaned out of view at the top of the stairwell when boots turned right to cut through the living room and toward the back door. They nearly reached the knob before stopping dead still, and Marvin’s breath caught in his throat. Void had helped, so far, but their origin, their undeniable similarities to the glitch still left him on edge. The dimension Void hailed from was trying to consume his alternate and the world beyond. He was far too paranoid not to at least keep tabs.

Instead of turning that soulless gaze on his own, pale hands dug uncertainly into the folds of Chase’s oversized leather jacket and withdrew a vibrating cellphone. Shoulders dropped with a heavy exhale, and the phone was pressed to their ear. It took quite a bit of concentration and a few whispered words, but Marvin was able to amplify his hearing enough to decipher the electronic voice from afar.

      “Considering I’ve never seen this phone before, you must be feeling better.”

      “The Host is recovering. He is not pleased that he was left to fear the worst had happened when he woke to Void’s absence.”

Those narrow shoulders caved even further, and the wraith’s head tilted before a hand snatched the doorknob and they strode outside for privacy. The open window and Marvin’s enhanced abilities were enough to follow the conversation.

      “I didn’t think you’d worry.”

      “WHY would he not worry when the glitch-!” There was a pause, and what might have been a controlled breath. “Please come back. Dark has not been forthcoming with details, and the Host’s hindsight is out of reach.”

Another pause, this one longer. Marvin heard the boots begin to pace across the wooden porch.

      “… I’m alright. I’m – Host, I’m sorry. I should have left him pinned. I thought he was dying, I got cocky, and then he possessed you. I could have stopped it, I should have stopped it.”

      “This was not his friend’s failure. The Host, too, was cocky in his belief his brief efforts had left the house protected. He does not blame Void for what happened… he asks again, please come back.”

There was a slight huff, and Marvin could almost imagine the ghost of a broken smile that came with it.

      “I’ve never heard you say please before, and now you’ve said it twice.”

      “The Host was… shaken, by this attack. He wants his ally close, he wants to regroup where it’s safe. He doesn’t want Void out there, exposed, as penance for a crime they did not commit.”

Unease was settling heavy, like lead, in Marvin’s stomach with every spoken word. There was still a chance that the wraith, along with the glitch, would have to either be killed or returned to the void. Chase said the narrator could likely be rallied to help if it was the only way, but this hushed conversation was not that of two truly detached individuals.

      “Look, I…” Void sighed, and settled against the cabin exterior, “we reached a point with you were all we could do was wait. I needed to move, to do something, so I left to warn the Brodys. They’ve multiplied, by the way. The person Anti summoned at the hydro dam is here.”

      “Who?”

      “The Chase Brody of your universe. He’s a magic user, and he’s been fighting Anti since the breach.”

      “If he resides in the Host’s universe, that would explain the lengths Anti was forced to in order to bring him here… is he an ally?”

      “To Chase, at least. He’s no friend of the glitch. I helped him test the defenses where the Brodys are hiding, they did nothing to keep me out the first time. He’s had more success, and when he’s done listening at the top of the stairs, he’ll have to let me out.”

Marvin’s face drained, and he instinctively shrank out of sight. Not that it mattered, the damage was done. Clearly, he’d misjudged the spatial awareness of a being who could teleport.

      “Is everything alright there?”

      “No. The breach is getting worse, Chase almost died to a stalker in the void. We’re nowhere closer to closing the veil, it’s looking more and more like an inevitability.”

      “The Host is concerned about his friend’s lukewarm concern for this development.”

      “Host-”

      “If the void consumes this world, it will be free to consume every world. Almost all the people of this universe would not survive its darkness, the people of EVERY. UNIVERSE. Would not SURVIVE its DARKNESS. It could create a paradox and collapse unto itself. Not even the Host and Void could survive. If their own safety is not incentive enough, he implores this. The Host is sustained on the stories of the universe. Imagine what would become of him, if there were no stories left to tell.”

Silence slammed in the wake of Host’s ultimatum – Marvin wasn’t sure Void was still breathing. He could hear the breeze through the trees beyond the cabin, he could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, he could hear the hushed murmurs of the Brodys in the guest bedroom nearby. But he couldn’t hear even a hint of the person standing outside.

      “Please. Don’t make him ask again. There is so very much at stake.”

      “You don’t… I’m on my way. Just take it easy for me, your eyes have been bleeding worse than ever.”

      “The Host is afraid that is not slowing down, and Dark can only aid so much. He thanks his friend, and implores them to be careful.”

The call ended, and Marvin dropped the concentration of his spell. At least the narrator knew what they were all up against. What was at stake. Anti wanted them all dead, but he didn’t care what came after. He was made in the void, it would only feel like home. The wizard swiped at his sweating forehead, and the four spectral card suits vanished from his skin. He turned to find red sunglasses a scant inch from his face.

A curse was torn from him as Marvin recoiled, but Void’s expression was neutral as ever. Only the slightest tilt of their head gave any indication of annoyance.

      “You aren’t as quiet as you think you are.”

      “Better than average, though, yeah?”

He imagined the roll of black eyes behind those lenses, and Void turned to walk back down the stairs. “I need to leave. Do whatever you have to do to let me out.”

Marvin sighed, irritated at the erratic beat of his heart, and closed his eyes for a moment. It wasn’t terribly taxing to classify the teleporter as an ally in relation to the spell, and it didn’t trigger those all-encompassing alarms when a tear in space carried them through the barrier and out of sight.

 Abe left quietly. Chandler was given his contact information, and the promise he’d do what he could to minimize the damage. Stacy had guided Chase to the living room couch, unwilling for a minute to leave the man out of sight. Between the monster’s attack and Marvin’s influence, Chase was trembling with exhaustion. He was sheet pale by the time he laid down on the cushions, and Stacy watched his eyes flutter shut with a sudden fear that they’d never open. It took a genuine moment of wrestling to force that horrific thought back into the abyss it came from.

      “Marvin.”

Stacy cursed the thinness of her voice. Raspy like dead leaves drifting across a grave, but the casket was empty. It had to remain empty. Brown eyes met the magician’s face, and the concern in those features was so achingly familiar that she honestly felt she could scream. ­It’s a wonder I’m still sane, she mused bitterly, watching two men who both were and were not her husband – locked in a war that could end with that casket filled. With Chase’s name on the headstone. Marvin took a cautious step closer, and she snapped herself out of it.

      “Can you – can your magic do anything? He’s white as a ghost, and his heart is way too fast.”

Marvin drew in a breath and nodded. “I don’t want to give him one of the potions I used, if that’s what you’re asking, but I have other tricks up my sleeve.”

      “That potion was real fuckin’ effective, though.” Chandler crossed his arms and leveled Marvin with a look, but the wizard just raised an eyebrow.

      “Because that’s the sort of situation it was designed for. Chase isn’t bleeding out on your porch from a gunshot. I don’t have many of those potions, they’re more of a ‘break glass in case of emergency.’ I wouldn’t hoard them if he really needed one.”

The pair watched as Marvin knelt beside Chase. Stacy held her breath when a strange charge seemed to emanate from the wizard, and the symbols of the four card suits manifested on his forehead like a ghostly tattoo. Blue irises and sclera were swallowed entirely by green, and the same color shimmered like mist from the outstretched palm that pressed against Chase’s sternum.

Snaking black crept through the veins of Chase’s neck, peeking above the collar of Chandler’s shirt. She nearly shoved Marvin away out of instinct before the black was overwhelmed by a muted, glowing green. The same green they’d seen in Marvin’s veins the night Chandler shot him. Despite the battle happening in his own body, Chase’s lungs drew what looked like his first full breath of air in hours. Marvin’s hand remained until all traces of darkness were gone, and the emerald glow faded from his doppelganger’s veins.

Chase had always been pale, but the corpselike cast was gone, and his skin had regained some color. The dark circles under his eyes had lightened, and he slept easy. Marvin’s movements were left a bit graceless as he tried to climb back to his feet, and Stacy wondered if he wasn’t reaching his limits with magic. At least for the day. Rebuilding the dome, transferring power to Chase, healing him now – Marvin couldn’t go on like this forever, and it showed.

      “Is dad okay now?”

Connor had pushed past them all to pull the blanket off the arm of the couch and tug it over Chase. Marvin dredged up a smile for the boy. “He’s okay. He’s going to sleep for a while, I had to borrow some of his energy twice today, and his body’s not used to that.”

Without so much as looking, Stacy knew Ellie wanted to be picked up, and she hoisted the little girl into her arms. Ellie turned wide eyes to Marvin.

      “Did you have to do the magic to fix daddy?”

He gave her a tired, patient smile.

      “No, sweetheart. He would have been fine, it just would have taken a little longer.”

She nodded and turned to wrap both arms around Stacy’s neck. It was heartbreaking to see her children so scared, and exhausting to pretend she wasn’t equally terrified.

       If… WHEN… we’re all still standing after this is over, we’re going away. I’ll take out a loan if I have to, we’re going somewhere far away from this nightmare. Just for a little while.

It felt like an hourglass filling with sand. It wasn’t lost time gathering at the bottom of the glass, but trauma piling onto her kids. Every incident was more sand to weigh them down, and it wasn’t like any of this could be discussed with a therapist. They could talk to Stacy and Chase, but their parents could only help so much. The rest would be in their little pockets forever. Her only consolation was that they were young. Time would eventually blur the memories. She just hoped against hope these painful weeks wouldn’t change her babies.

      “Mom, can I go outside?”

Connor was at her elbow, eyes pleading. Stacy threw a sideways glance at Marvin, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Enough to say yes, it’s safe, I’m sure of it.

      “If you stay close to the porch, okay? Don’t go past the cars or the clothesline.”

      “Wanna come with me chop firewood?”

The little boy looked up at his uncle’s question, and then toward his mom. Stacy managed a smile. “Sure, go on with Uncle Chandler. I’ll see what’s in the kitchen, maybe I can make us some marshmallows to toast later. Does that sound good?”

      “Yeah!” Connor brightened at the idea, and followed Chandler out the back door. He knew he wasn’t going to get to chop, but it was better than nothing. At least outside, there was no electricity.

The sky was overcast, darkened like the mood of the cabin, but the air was fresh and clean. Connor trailed behind Chandler as he strode to the side of the house, where a stack of logs sat waiting. There weren’t very many cut already, and Chandler hefted a bigger circle onto a wide tree stump.

      “Someday, we’ll let you try this. But the trick is to let the axe and gravity do the work.”

The handle was swung back and over Chandler’s head, and it fell in a graceful arc down onto the center of the log. It split in two with a resounding crack, and the pieces clattered off the stump. Instead of picking them up, Chandler grabbed another log and set it in the same spot.

      “See? I’m not forcing it down, I’m just guiding it, and the logs still don’t stand a chance.”

Connor giggled and watched the dull metal flash in front of his face again. It came down to reveal the shape of a man, just beyond the cars.

The boy’s smile congealed, and his face steadily drained of color. In any other point of time but this one, Connor would have seen his dad. Brown hair, medium build, pale skin. But the smile was too wide. The eyes were too bright. It felt like they were pulling Connor in, even at that distance, but the child was absolutely frozen.

      CRACK.

Connor flinched at the sharp impact of splitting wood, but didn’t move. His young gaze was cemented on the man just calmly smiling directly at him. Chandler lifted the axe across Connor’s line of sight again, and the smiling man was gone.

Chapter Text

7 PM

Chase was slow to wake.

The ache he remembered in his very soul had fled, but his movements were still measured and ginger, and he shrugged the blanket off before squinting at the watch on his wrist. 11:13 PM didn’t make much sense given the early evening sunlight stretched across the couch, and he almost sank his teeth into the fear that time was somehow fucked up before he remembered the watch had been on his wrist when he saved Marvin from drowning. The world wasn’t pants-shittingly broken, a cheap electronic had gotten wet. It was so normal, Chase could have laughed.

Purring reached his ears, and a turn of his head revealed the spectral sleeping face of Marvin’s cat familiar. He was wrapped around Chase’s skull on the couch cushion, eyes closed in content. How the cat managed to feel and act so alive when you could see straight through it, Chase would never know. A hand reached up to scratch its head before his eyes landed on Connor.

The boy was sitting on the floor, his back ramrod straight against the front of the couch. His gaze was locked dead ahead, and he didn’t move even as his old man grimaced his way to sitting up.

      “Bud? You alright?”

Connor didn’t look. Chase’s heart picked up speed at the boy's sheer stillness, but the hand against his shoulder at least earned a violent flinch.

      “Hey, hey, c’mere, it’s okay.” Chase’s voice was gentle as he wrapped his hands around Connor’s thin chest, “uuuuuuuUP we go. I’ve got you.” Connor’s arms wrapped around his neck, and Chase could feel his pulse racing through the cotton between them. A hand smoothed over Connor’s back, and he carried the boy with him to the kitchen to get some coffee.

There was still some in the pot, but the brewer had long since shut off and the coffee was cold. Chase poured some into his mug of the day, and got it into the microwave one-handed. He could see Stacy, Chandler and Ellie in the backyard, set up around the old family set of Connect 4. The one Chase, Chandler and Charlie used to play when they were kids. The weathered cardboard box sat in the grass with the blue tower on top, and Ellie’s face was scrunched in concentration. Chase watched her consider all options before dropping her yellow disc in the most obvious place. Chandler put on an equal show of intense contemplation before dropping his red disc in the dumbest spot possible.

Chase snickered and shook his head. Eventually, they were going to have to stop letting his youngest just win at everything, or it was going to turn into meltdowns later on. They’d gotten in trouble once with the school when she’d thrown an absolute shitfit over the other kids playing either Sorry or Uno ‘wrong.’ Turns out, her grandmother had taught her the ‘rules,’ which vastly shortened whichever game it was, so she’d been convinced the kids didn't know the right way to play. He could still hear her jaw-dropping “Grandma LIED to me?” like it was yesterday.

Both he and Connor jumped at the shriek of the microwave telling the world it had carried out its single purpose in life, and Chase pulled the door open mid-beep. Leftover morning coffee could be a bad idea for this late in the day, but there wasn’t a whole lot else to do with a caffeine headache. He took a long sip and carried both the mug and Connor to the back door.

      “Can you open that, bud? I’ve got no hands.”

      “No.”

Chase rose an eyebrow at the muffled voice against his shoulder.

      “No, you don’t wanna go out?”

      “No.”

      “You wanna stay inside and be sad?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Okay,” Chase assured, and hitched Connor higher against his hip, “we can stay inside and be sad. But I think your sister’s whooping your uncle’s ass at Connect 4.”

He didn’t earn so much as a giggle. Chase hid an inward sigh behind a sip of coffee. It was a lot to expect the kid to be happy while they were manhunted, but it was still disheartening. A cry of despair whipped his head toward the yard in time to watch Ellie lean back, both eyes covered, as Chandler pulled his hand away from a pristine line of four connected red dots. Stacy was laughing, and Chandler was trying to play it off like he had no idea where that victory had come from.

      “Nevermind, Uncle Chandler won.”

In the stillness of the log cabin, the piercing ring of the land line phone echoed like a banshee’s wail. Chase just managed to get the coffee mug on a flat surface before it wailed again. Connor’s breath hitched beside his ear, and he held his own as the caller ID flashed. It was a city area code, the last four were 7613. He glanced over at the card Abe had scrawled on before he left, and the number matched. A breath was released, and the phone pulled off the receiver mid-shriek.

      “Hello?”

      “Is this the native, or the tourist?”

That took the brain a moment of fumbling to figure out Abe wanted to know if it was Chase or Marvin. He tightened his grip on both Connor and the phone while his vocal cords caught up.

      “I, I, uh- it’s- I live here.”

      “Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me. The fucking lights were going on and off. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

      “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry you had to see that shit, but at least you know we’re not lying.”

There was an exasperated huff, and the sound of a drink being poured in the background. It was a vice he wished they could share — there wasn't a drop left in Chandler's stash.

      “I believed you, I didn’t need a fucking demonstration. I’m just… I’m wondering if what got you is what got my partner. I know you said it’s… it’s fucking Voldemort or whatever, but my partner died the same way. Only difference is he found a body first, and he was awake through it.”

For a moment, the only sound was his family outside, and the faint drone of dead air through the plastic.

      “So, you… you think the dam has the same problem I do?”

      “I don’t see why it wouldn’t,” Abe pressed, the conviction clear in his electronic voice. “It’s ground zero for shit that shouldn’t be here. We’re so concerned with the players on the board that nobody’s looking at the fucking hole in it.”

Chase felt the idea sink like lead in his gut. Jackson Hydro Dam had been ripped open, and the glitch had reached across universes to pull Marvin out, and something else from that universe had let itself in after. The Host might have put the facility back together, but Jackson was wounded. Bleeding on a level none of them could understand.

      “… I’ll... I'll bring that up. Thanks for checking in on me.”

      “Hey, it’s the least I could do. Especially after you saved the wizard.”

The vlogger’s head tilted, and he shifted his grip on the phone.

      “What was I supposed to do, let him die?”

      “Actually, yeah. It would have been better for everyone. We’re only in this mess because of him, you know that, right?”

Words caught in Chase’s throat. It… it was true. Marvin was ready to destroy himself to make amends, but it had all started with him. The void, the iris, the need for power. He knew that happened, but it was still hard to equate the broken, desperate man with the actions he seemed incapable of now. Despite the horrors, he had changed.

      “... I know we are. But he’s trying like hell to fix this, and I’m willing to give him a chance. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for him.”

      “You’d be alive, because he is the reason you almost died in the first place. You should have left him in that circle.”

A crackle in the phone line sent a flinch through Chase's body. Connor’s arms had only tightened around his neck, and Chase tried in vain to lean away from them.

      “Why are you telling me this?”

      “Because it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to let it happen. Marvin should have died. Lungs full of water, choking, gasping, failing at his own little game. His last thoughts should have been filled with nothing but fear and me. The fact that I won.”

Ice spread through his veins at the sound of his own voice through the speaker. Chase's gaze descended to the phone’s display, and it was flashing 'OFF THE HOOK.’

      “If you think you’re safe in that little cage of his, Chasey boy. Think A̶G̴A̶I̸N̶.”

Chase slammed the phone back onto the receiver, and ripped the cord right out of the wall. It was a genuine fight to pull back against Connor, but he was starting to feel lightheaded from the living noose around his neck.

      “Connor, I can’t breathe.” He had to fight that primal instinct to panic at both his carotids cut off, but Connor relented the barest amount to let blood flush back up into his brain. Chase sagged heavy against the phone stand, and fireflies danced in front of his eyes as he willed his body to steady.

      “Dad?”

      “I’m right here,” Chase whispered, and rubbed his son’s back. “Still right here. He can’t get in, it’s okay.”

      “He said he’d go away.” Connor’s voice was wrecked with tears, and Chase could feel them soaking into his shoulder. “Dad, he PROMISED!”

The boy’s pulse was once again rabbit-fast against his chest, and his own was eager to join. A gentle hand pulled Connor’s trembling face back enough to see it.

      “When did he promise?”

      “A-after I cut fi-irewood with U-uncle Chandler,” he scrubbed at his tears with one arm, “he sa-aid if I gave the-the thing to Mi-mister Marvin, he’d go AWAY!”

Cold, paralyzing realization seeped into Chase’s bones. The boy read his dad’s shift in body language and cried even harder before a pale hand clamped over his shoulder.

      “Listen to me, Connor, WHERE is Marvin.”

Connor was too far gone to form words. His face crumpled, but one shaking finger pointed up the stairs. Chase plastered his son to his body and reached over the back of the couch to hoist the hissing cat familiar over his free shoulder. He bolted up the stairs two at a time and didn’t bother to ask what room. The guest room, empty. The bathroom, empty. Chase all but kicked down the door to Chandler’s bedroom and found Marvin sprawled lifeless on the hardwood floor.

      “MARV!” Chase got Connor on his feet as the cat launched off his shoulders like a missile. It batted at Marvin’s blue lips once, twice, and let out a guttural, agonized yowl. Chase threw himself beside his double as blood and adrenaline pounded in his veins. How long had Marvin been like this? Was he already gone? Frantically, a hand pressed against his neck, and it felt only the faintest ghost of a pulse. Marvin’s skin was already cold, and his face was bloodless.

      The headless man, waiting for his body to catch up.

No. Marvin was still hanging on by a thread, and a thread would have to do. Chase’s gaze found Connor, who had shrunk into a corner with deep, heaving sobs.

      “What did you give him!? Connor, look at me, what did you give to him!?”

Connor couldn’t speak through the tears, and he forced himself to pitch forward and crash to his knees at his father’s side. Chase watched the boy flip over and pull open Marvin’s hand to reveal a gleaming black orb. It was about the size of a quarter, and it shined in the evening sunbeams like a polished marble. The cat yowled again, spine arched as it backed sideways from the object. Looking closer, the glow seemed to intensify with every moment that Marvin grew weaker. Without thinking, Chase snatched the marble, pulled his arm back, and threw his entire body weight into shattering the black mass against the log cabin wall.

Like a thousand diamonds, it fractured against the wood in a shimmering cascade. It hadn’t dispersed before a sucking inhale tore from the floor beside him, and Chase looked down to find a corpse come back to life.

Marvin gasped like he’d been held underwater, chest heaving and clinging to Chase’s steadying arm like he’d otherwise sink back beneath the waves. Chase was only vaguely aware that he was speaking the same comforting nonsense he’d have given his kids, and Connor had wrapped his arms around his dad’s torso.

      “I’m sorry,” the boy croaked to the magician, his young eyes absolutely bloodshot with tears, “I’m sorry, Mr. Marvin, I’m sorry!”

Chase shushed him softly, and Marvin let his eyes slide shut as he breathed. Color had at least returned to his lips, but he still looked rough. He broke into a wicked coughing fit, and Chase helped prop Marvin up so he'd have an easier time filling his lungs.

      “He picked a… good day for that,” Marvin wheezed, and tried to sit up on his own. “I was already drained from the void…”

      “What was that?” Chase murmured, only to have to brace the man through another wracking cough.

      “An arcane weapon… it steals and stores the life force of a magic wielder. The weaker, the more magically-spent you are, the harder it is to fight. On a normal day, I would have had the strength and time to destroy it... Today, well. Not so much.”

Chase wondered where in the hell Anti managed to get his hands on something like that. There could be a wizard tower just ripped apart right now, and they’d never know it. Connor was shaking like a leaf beside him, and Marvin reached out to touch his cheek with a weak, reassuring smile.

      “I know you did it to protect your family. He probably said he’d never hurt any of you again. I’m not mad, Connor, he used you. Honestly, this was a good thing.”

      “How?” Chase couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice, despite the raise of Marvin's eyebrow.

      “Because if he’s bribing the kids to kill me, we know he can’t get in.”

Chapter Text

9PM

      “So we are trapped in a fucking cage, and he’s outside of it?”

Stacy’s question went unanswered. She and Chandler were pacing the kitchen, Chase was hunched over the table with his hands locked behind his head, and in the chair to his right was a haggard Marvin. The wizard was slumped against the wooden back, face drained with labored breath and a thousand-yard stare. He’d made a show of being fine for Connor’s sake, but both kids were in bed, and it was no longer a secret he wasn’t doing well.

Breaking the orb returned some of the life it had stolen from Marvin, but not all of it.

      “… For the moment, yeah.” Chase’s face lifted, and his hands dropped from his hair. “He’s stuck out there. We know he’s stuck out there. For fuck’s sake, he got Connor to try to kill Marvin.”

      “How do we know that wasn’t just a sick game?” Chandler huffed as he paced a groove in the kitchen. “He wants Marvin dead enough to pull him here from a different universe, wouldn’t he want to finish the job himself?”

      “He’s afraid to.”

Three heads turned as the wizard spoke at last, but his distant gaze didn’t shift in the slightest. He sucked in a tired breath and continued.

      “He was frightened when I was still in my own universe, and now we’re on even ground. He’s taking potshots for a reason.”

      “Then we should take potshots at him.” Stacy came to a halt and planted her hands on the kitchen table. “We’ve been cowering in this cabin for over a week, why should we play fair? There’s four adults and two kids, we’re going to run out of everything and soon.”

       “We’re not.”

They watched Chandler open the upper cabinet that flanked the fridge, and he made a show of pulling out the big jar of peanut butter inside. He closed and opened the cabinet door again to reveal another jar sitting inside, right where the one in his hand had been.

      “… That wasn’t me,” Marvin attempted to sit up straighter, brows furrowed in thought. “My guess is the narrator.”

Chase had climbed to his feet to pull the manifested jar out of the cabinet and shut the door. Sure enough, it opened to a third jar of peanut butter.

      “… Does this shit work on toilet paper?”

      “Oh yeah,” Chandler nodded, “that was the second thing I tried, we have like a billion rolls now.”

Marvin dragged a heavy arm up so he could scrub his tired face. “Stacy’s right. We can’t hide in here forever. I’ve been thinking about what Abe told Chase – that the dam may be the place to start. The problem with that is…”

      “That’s where he’s king shit on turd mountain,” Chase leaned against the counter with a scowl, “that’s his fucking domain. He let me wander around in there for a whole fucking hour and I still got caught.”

      “Regardless…” Marvin sighed, “we’re running out of time. And I hate to say this, but I think we need to go back to not just the dam, but every place the doorway was opened.”

A hush fell over the room, and Chase found himself leaning forward.

      “You mean… the house? And my car?”

      “Not your car, the ground beneath it. Look-” Marvin hauled himself upright enough to reach for his own coffee mug, Chase’s and Stacy’s. “This,” he set his own in the middle of the table, “is the dam. This,” he moved the second mug to his left, “is the family home. And this,” he moved the third parallel to the second, “is the street outside the rental. Three points. The smallest number that can form a pattern. There is power in that. And I believe everything within this triangle,” he set his hand in the middle of the three stretched points, “is not having a good time.”

      “Is the void killing them?” Stacy’s voice was small. She said what they were all thinking, and Chase felt his heart climb into his throat. No matter who started what, it still felt like every ounce of pain from this mess was his own fault.

      “I don’t think it can. Not yet.” Marvin pulled his hand back from the table and it joined his free hand in a fist against his mouth. “… If I had to guess, it’s small things. Nightmares, visions. Things they can’t explain. The veil is thin, but the real key is here.”

Chase let out a heavy sigh, and felt his shoulders sag. Chandler’s cabin was far outside that triangle, if that was the situation.

      “It needs me in the middle, is that it?”

      “It would certainly help. Another event, in the center of those three points, may be exactly what it needs to break free.”

Without a map, Chase couldn’t be sure what was square in between his house, Stacy’s house, and Jackson Hydro Dam. For a brief moment, he considered the warehouse that Host and Void had taken the kids, but it seemed too close to home. He may have been in the radius, but not the center.

      “What if we fix one of these points? The strongest one is the dam, but the oldest one is the house.” Stacy reached out and took one of the mugs away, leaving just the two. “If we fix the house, it’s down to just that line from Jackson to Chase’s place. If we fix Chase’s place, all it has left is the dam.”

      “Logically, that would weaken its influence. The problem is we’d be out there with the glitch. I can’t take the dome with me.” Marvin scrubbed his face, but even that looked like it took an extraordinary effort. “If we… if we try to repair the veil at these three points, it may be enough to seal off the void. But if we seal it with Anti on this side, we will have to kill or be killed.”

      “If the void gets in, we’ll have to play kill or be killed anyway,” Chandler growled, arms folded against his chest. “I like this idea. Take at least one thing off the board. If we can get the bastard in there first, that’s win-win.”

Chase pulled his chair back out, and took a slow seat beside the wizard. It was alarming, the pallid color of his skin, and the fine sheen of sweat. Marvin looked like he’d gone ten rounds in hell, and he’d have to go fifty more.

      “Marv. What do you think he wants more. To not go back, or to kill you?”

The wizard’s thousand-yard stare had returned, fixed on the kitchen table. Sluggish as they were, Chase could see the gears turning behind Marvin’s eyes before he spoke.

      “Above all else, he wants control. I’m a threat, because I can take that from him with time and effort. You’re a threat, because you can tear down the veil between void and his new playground, and you can open it to entities that would challenge him. The alternates we haven’t met are a threat, because he doesn’t know what they’re capable of. The family is a threat, because they know who he really is.” Marvin’s blue eyes were bloodshot when they finally met Chase’s.

“He wants to hold all the cards in the deck. I don’t think he cares if his prize is a throne of ash in the void’s wake, so long as he gets to be king.”

12AM

Chase woke in a cold sweat. The dream itself had been nebulous, just the sensation of running from a threat he couldn’t see. It just felt like a summary of his life.

The blankets were tugged back with care, and Chase climbed out of the guest bed. He’d give anything to not have to cram all four of them onto one mattress anymore, and if it wasn’t for the fact his kids wanted him close, he’d have long since told Chandler to shove over. Chase looked down the dim hall and found it as empty as it should be at that hour, and that filled him with a quiet relief. It took effort to keep the chairs from creaking like the groans of the damned under his weight, but he managed to descend without waking Marvin.

The magician was sprawled in the same position he’d collapsed in. He was still pale enough that Chase felt the urge to squint at the blanket draped over his body to make sure he was still breathing. Sure enough, the fabric rose and fell with Marvin’s tired lungs. He was still with them.

Chase padded to the kitchen and turned the cold tap with a soft squeak to fill a glass with a quiet trickle of water. It was the only time anyone would ever need to turn the faucet just barely on – in the middle of the fucking night. Witching hour hydration called for vigilance and care.

The world outside the window above the sink was brighter than he expected. The moon was either full, or about to be, and it washed the grass and woods with an icy light. Chase was sure if he stared long enough, he’d see shadows in the dark. Shadows that looked like him, dripping blood with a knife in hand. He had a feeling if the glitch had his way, that’s how Chase would go. A slit through his own throat, mirroring them to the bitter end.

As much as it stole the air from his lungs, and as much as it wrapped around his heart and squeezed… Chase wanted to pull out Chandler’s laptop, triangulate the three points, and take his car right to the place they all intersected. He wanted to plant himself in the center, lure the bastard in, and let Marvin drag him back to hell. There was no place on earth the veil would be thinner than right fucking there, and if the Host helped? Anti wouldn’t stand a chance.

It was a pipe dream. The glitch would be banished for the whole thirty seconds it’d take for the void to break free. Christ, he wished Marvin could just pull his arcane echo out of Chase’s soul.

      Carving magic out of someone is something only the worst of us can do.

As angry as Chase wanted to be with Marvin, for this entire mess, he couldn’t summon the rage. If they got through this with their world intact and the glitch gone, it’d still take some atonement for lives lost, but Chase felt the price Marvin was paying. He wore the guilt and weariness of his ongoing two-year fight with Anti like a second skin. The way he’d so swiftly dismissed the idea of returning to his own universe had Chase suspicious there was nothing for him to go back to. Logistics of it aside, he hadn’t seen mourning in Marvin’s eyes when he put that notion down. Chase wondered how many pieces of his life Marvin had lost to try to fix this mistake.

He also knew, if the void broke free and razed the whole fucking world, his suffering would never be enough.

A heavy sigh vanished into the darkness of Chandler’s kitchen. It seemed like they all had some sort of toxic drive. Chase had ruined his marriage looking for fame. Marvin broke the multiverse looking for power. Anti was trying to kill them both to assume absolute control. He wondered what the surgeon’s drive was. Or the masked man in red. He dwelled on that tiny thread most of all, who was he? Marvin had been pulled to their world in a mask, was the man in red someone just as powerful?

Was he someone worse?

There was no telling if they would gain an ally or an enemy if they found that alternate. Someone in blue and red, and another in black and white. Marvin’s accented voice rattled in his brain again, but it brought no clarity. At least two more alternates, and they had no rightful idea who the fuck they might be.

       They’ve got to be stronger than me.

Without a shadow of a doubt. Even if the surgeon was just a surgeon, he’d be smarter than Chase by miles. They’d probably all have more to bring to the table than him.

Chase shook these thoughts away, and filled the glass one more time. Trying to rip alternates away from their lives, trying to throw the glitch back into the abyss, all of it would just open the door for the real threat. He couldn’t help but remember the veins that had snaked across the ashen floor, the city burning on the horizon. The decay, the destruction, the perpetual night, it would all be made real. Not just for their world, but every world. He’d doom those alternates in more ways than one if he fucked this up now.

Better to chip away at the doorway, than try to use it for themselves. They needed to find a way to contact the Host, and see if he couldn’t meet them at Stacy’s house. Between him and Marvin, they might be able to close that wound. Then on to the street outside his rental, and the dam itself. He wanted Anti dead or gone with every inch of his body, but Chase wasn’t the only person at stake.

       We just have to survive til then.

Survive and stay sane. Easier said than done. They were already going a little stir crazy in the cabin with nothing to do, and Chase wondered if there might be anything in Stacy’s car they hadn’t thought to scavenge yet. She had old CDs, maybe some shit in the glovebox, and who knows what had been forgotten in the trunk. Quiet as he could, Chase retrieved her car keys, a flashlight from the junk drawer, and let himself outside.

The cool night air was a balm against his nerves, but that wasn’t enough to keep him from raising the flashlight to the barrier perimeter. The dirt road and gently moving grass were all that greeted the beam of light. He gave the landscape one more hard, searching look before the flashlight was slipped between his teeth, and he climbed into Stacy’s car.

80s mixes, some Muse albums and one of Ellie’s old pacifiers were all there was to find in the car’s interior. Chase cracked open the trunk and sighed at the mess inside. The house may have been neat, but Stacy left shit in her trunk to die. Crumpled Aldi bags were shoved aside to reveal Christmas wrapping paper from last year and a box of books she’d meant to donate. Chase hauled the box closer and set it down beside the car. Quite a few happy meal toys the kids had both insisted they needed and forgotten about in the same hour. The five minutes of entertainment was definitely worth the plastic that would outlive them all. The cynicism wasn’t enough to keep Chase from dumping all the stupid little toys into the box of books as well.

With absolute rage, he found one of his favorite old hoodies that Stacy had “borrowed” and then lost. It was dusty from the trunk, and he brushed it off with a scowl before tying the arms around his waist. He dug deeper in the back and his fingers grazed a stiff fabric. He squinted, and pulled out a forgotten ball cap. Plain black with green under the brim, he hadn’t seen it in ages. He hadn’t worn a hat in ages, Chase wasn’t even sure where the Adidas had ended up. He dusted it off and the familiar weight of a ball cap over his hair felt like an old friend.

Chase pulled the trunk shut as quiet as he could, but the sound was still vivid when there was nothing to compete but a faint breeze and crickets. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he lifted the box from the dirt, and he couldn’t fight the feeling of being watched. The porch light that had been off for days flickered to life. It flashed and glitched, and Chase felt his own jaw set with anger. He wasn’t going to look back, he wasn’t going to give the barricaded fucker the satisfaction. Chase stormed up the porch steps, grabbed the burning hot bulb, and twisted until it popped free from the socket. The light died without a source, and it was thrown into the box with the rest of his treasures before the front door slammed shut behind him.

The box was left on the kitchen table, and Chase went upstairs to wipe off his feet and go back to bed. For the rest of the night, every once in a while, a flicker of light shone between the flaps of cardboard.

Chapter Text

9AM

The morning had been one of quiet preparation. Despite the instinct to return to the Brody house under the veil of night – the sight of lights on would only give them away. A weekday morning, when kids were in school and parents had either commuted or began their workday from home, gave them a higher chance to go unnoticed.

      “I’m staying here.” Chandler’s quiet declaration drew a concerned look from his brother, and he shook his head. “This is the safest place we’ve got, we’d be stupid not to leave someone on watch. Are we sure the dome is gonna stay up if Marvin leaves?”

      “We’re sure,” the magician had crammed them all in Chandler’s room and pulled the curtains shut, and with a wave of his hands and a shimmer of emerald light, the spectral cat manifested on the hardwood floor. It rubbed against Chase’s legs with a purr and sat at attention as Marvin knelt down beside it.

      “We’re being stealthy today. See if anyone watches the house, but do not be seen.” The translucent cat meowed in response and vanished in a scattering cloud of green particles. The wizard straightened and put a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I can see and hear the world as he does, but I can’t see or hear my own surroundings while I look through his eyes. If anything happens, just shake me.”

With that, Marvin’s eyes clouded over with the same greenish white of the cat familiar’s, and he was plunged into a foreign home.

Two paws reached out over vinyl tile for a big stretch in what looked like an entryway. To the immediate right of the front door was a kitchen with an island, to the left was a small dining area, and further in was a living room and hallway. The world at shin level showed dust and forgotten toys under furniture as the cat trotted through the empty house and up the stairs.

A hunch and a graceful leap carried them both to the windowsill that overlooked the street, and the cat instinctually sank lower as it observed.

      “I can’t hear you, but I can feel you,” Marvin announced, and even his own words did not reach his ears through the familiar’s awareness. “I’m going to call out what I see. Tap once if it sounds normal, tap twice if it doesn’t. There is a black… tiny Ford sedan parked on the street to the left of the driveway, facing toward the house.”

      “That’s the neighbor’s oldest kid visiting,” Stacy nodded, “I’ve seen that car before.”

Chase reached out and tapped Marvin’s back once, and the magician nodded.

      “There’s a beat-up green pickup truck across the street.” He jolted slightly with the immediate tap to his back. Chase didn’t need to consult Stacy, that truck was always there. The cars they couldn’t quite recognize with Marvin’s descriptions were empty, and the wizard blinked the haze out of his eyes as the hand on Chase’s shoulder retracted. “The house isn’t being watched.”

      “I’m not surprised.” Stacy folded her arms, and her eyes were distant. “The cops probably just told the neighbors to call if we show up.”

      “All the more reason not to take cars,” Marvin nodded, and a piece of chalk seemed to manifest from the folds of his cloak. He didn’t seem to hear Chandler’s heavy sigh as he began to draw a circle and runes across the floor. “Ideally, I’d want the Host to join us, but I don’t know how the fuck to get a hold of him. Chase, Stacy, grab anything you two need from the house, and try to stay out of sight. This isn’t going to be something you can help with.”

The dufflebag in Chase’s hand was already overturned and emptied, and he knew Stacy planned to make a run for the big suitcase upstairs. Neither knew how much time they were going to get, or how soon the glitch might realize they were gone. As nerve-wracking as it was to leave the safety of the dome, Chase itched to be anywhere but the cabin.

      “How long is it going to take?”

      “As long as it needs to.” Marvin didn’t look up from the drawn arcane circle as the last stroke was drawn. Green light shot through every line of chalk until the entire thing glowed and thrummed with energy. The wizard didn’t wait for the other two, he took one step into the shining circle and vanished. Stacy grabbed Chase’s stunned hand, and he felt himself pulled out of existence itself.

His stomach dropped like he’d been plunged over the hill of a roller coaster, and Chase’s whole body jolted with shock at the much softer landing than he’d expected. Worn shoes touched down in the hallway of Stacy’s home like he’d just walked off the bottom stair. She let go of his hand and bolted up to their bedroom while Chase threw himself into Connor’s room first. Clothes, underwear, socks, pajamas, toys, he crammed half the bag with his son’s things and the other half with his daughter’s. Any space left over, he crammed even more underwear and socks into. Kevin the pikachu was shoved unceremoniously on top, and the seams were screaming by the time Chase tried to zip the dufflebag shut. As an afterthought, he ducked into the bathroom to pull extra toiletries out of the vanity cabinet to wedge into the side pockets, and the mirrored door was shut to reveal a man standing behind his shoulder.

      “FUCK-!” the dufflebag slipped from his grip with a heavy thud, and both hands braced the sink as his head dipped low with a slow exhale. The Host hadn’t moved an inch when he managed to straighten again.

      “Don’t do that to me.”

      “The Host apologizes. He saw the plan Marvin proposed, and came to offer his aid.”

Chase’s hand shook as it scrubbed over his face, and he pointed down the hall. “Probably upstairs. If it matters where exactly I screamed.”

The narrator gave a nod of thanks and retreated up the stairs after Marvin.

The wizard was sitting crisscross on the bedroom floor, and his eyes didn’t open when the Host appeared in the doorway. The cat arched his back at the unfamiliar presence, and hissed before Marvin’s hand blindly smoothed down its back.

      “You must be the Host.”

      “The Host confirms Marvin’s belief and asks how he may be of service.”

Blue eyes opened, and he looked up into the blind gaze of the narrator. The man did not look well, there was a gingerness to his movements and his face betrayed lines of stress before it formed into a thin smile.

      “Marvin, too, bears the evidence of a recent and harrowing encounter with the glitch. He is determined to see the wizard’s efforts fall short. The Hosts asks again, how he might be of service.”

Long limbs untangled, and Marvin climbed to his feet. For an imposing presence, he and the Host were similar in height, although he himself was slimmer in the chest and shoulders. Marvin glanced down the hall, where he could hear Chase and Stacy’s murmured voices at the bottom of the stairs.

      “… I know what’s at stake here, but even if we succeed, they… these are good people. As it stands, if we pull this off, their lives are going to be ripped apart when its over. Chase and Stacy have probably lost their jobs by now, and despite what Abe said, I think Connor and Ellie’s missing person cases are too big for him to gloss over. We’ll restore the veil, but they’ll lose their own children and be thrown in prison. Or the psyche ward, if they tell the truth.”

The Host’s head had tilted the longer Marvin spoke, and it straightened as he weighed an answer.

      “Marvin wishes for the Host to narrate the Brody family a seamless transition back into their previous lives. He confesses a curiosity as to why he – with no home and no ties to this universe – asks the Host to ensure their wellbeing, but not his own.”

A faint, broken chuckle itched the back of Marvin’s throat, but he held it down. “This is my mess. And it’s been my mess for so long, I don’t know who I am without it. Other than my books, I’ve got nothing left to go back to, and tearing new holes into the multiverse after fixing it seems like it just might be a bad idea.”

Even without eyes, Marvin could almost feel the searching look behind those bandages, sizing up both the wizard and the wizard’s request. Chase had once said the Host made him feel naked, and Marvin understood that now, as his arcane senses were alerted to an outside influence they could not explain.

      “… The Host can see how many stories end. But not Marvin’s story. Not anyone’s story the glitch has his sights on. Because their futures are still… malleable, it would not be as difficult a task. It will still command a great effort, because that is many, many stories the Host must potentially change. Police, coworkers, teachers, students, all who know of the Brodys must be redirected. Documents, he can change with ease, perceptions and memories are something else entirely. If Marvin wishes for this, the Host will not be able to help him further with this piece of the triangle. He will need time to recover, and could aid with the next.”

      “What would you want in return?” Marvin asked, his voice quiet as the Host mulled it over. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was insulting to offer something to a man who could just narrate it into reality. The Host didn’t seem offended, and offered a nod.

      “He asks Marvin for one of the potions used his first night in this universe, when Chandler Brody shot him.”

The wizard’s eyes slid shut. Out of the items stored in his tiny pocket dimension, those were by far the most valuable. He heaved a single, hesitant sigh and let the arcane workshop fill his mind’s eye. It passed over bookshelves, alchemy sets, strange spell components in jars and boxes, and fell on a line of shelves adorned with glass bottles. There were many of every hue imaginable, but only two swirled with the same vivid shade of green that sparked from his hands when needed. Marvin grimaced as he reached out, and plucked one of the two from the wooden potion stand.

He opened his eyes to the master bedroom of Stacy’s house, and pressed the potion bottle into the Host’s waiting hand.

      “Only if you absolutely need it. This is powerful magic, and it would take me a full year to brew another batch.”

      “The Host understands, and he is grateful.” The potion disappeared into the folds of the trench coat, and the narrator swept back a few stray locks of black hair. “He wishes Marvin luck in his efforts, and he will begin work on the Brody family return immediately. Though he cautions, should the veil not be repaired, those revisions will be for nothing.”

      “I know that-” Marvin’s frustrated look back fell on nothing but empty air where the Host had been. He huffed and sat back down on the floor, right where the pull of energy was strongest. His awareness was spread through the arcane layers of the universe, and there it was. A gaping tear between the material plane and the void, and a weakening veil between the tiny speck that was this universe, and the infinite cosmos of the multiverse.

It would not get that far. Not while Marvin still breathed.

Chase craned his neck around the doorframe of Stacy’s room, and found Marvin floating about a foot off the ground. He watched the wizard’s hands glow with emerald light that trailed off his fingers like magical thread. One by one, threads were woven and draped across the empty space between the bed and the closet. Right where… right where he’d stood, when he’d realized the gun wasn’t loaded and screamed, two years ago. The glowing strings anchored to thin air, crisscrossed in a jagged line like stitches. Chase was so enraptured by the display, it took a long moment to notice how ragged Marvin’s breaths had gotten. Sweat was pouring off the wizard with every magic thread, and his knees almost folded under him.

With the reflexes of both a stunt guy and a dad with two kids, Chase caught Marvin under the arms in one lightning move. He only grunted in surprise and dug his heels enough to at least lean rather than be carried. Chase watched a circle of runes manifest before Marvin’s outstretched hands, and they combined into one searing glyph that shot into the stitched wound and shattered.

He was left supporting most of Marvin’s weight, but the magic threads were gone.

      “… Did that do it?”

A long moment of heaving breath was his only answer before Marvin nodded against his shoulder.

      “That did it… this tear is mended… two more to go.”

Stacy rubbed a hand over Chase’s back, and he could read the relief in her face. It was no longer a triangle, just a line between the dam and his rental house. They were one step closer.

      “Where did the Host go?” Chase looked around with a frown, “I heard him, why the fuck didn’t he help?”

      “He did,” Marvin wheezed, and managed to get his feet under him enough to stand on his own, “he helped, and he’s going to help again. Give me a… a few minutes, and I’ll take us back to the cabin.”

      “Are you up for that, man?” Chase’s question was met with a frustrated little shrug. “Do I have a choice? We can’t stay here.”

They all went silent at that, and Stacy and Chase took the time to haul both their bags into the bedroom to wait for Marvin to recover. At least with one doorway shut, and fresh clothes and belongings, they’d be able to feel just a bit more human, and less like the terrified wrecks they’d been since the kids had been taken.

There was a light, or the illusion of one, and Chase would take it.

Chapter Text

      “I don’t think this is the most… appropriate use of your time.”

      “The Host leans back with tired frustration and asks Dark to say what he means.”

The light of the world seemed to dim with the other man’s mood, but the Host had years to become used to his strange companion. Like the glitch, when he chose to spend the effort, Dark could look like any other person who walked the earth. He could enter a store, a theatre, a formal dinner, and none who saw him could be the wiser. Just another charming, handsome man in a fine tailored suit.

It was rare, that he chose to make that effort.

Like an oncoming storm, darkness leached light and warmth from the world with every step he took. A high-pitched and grating ring invaded the senses as the storm gathered, and it shifted with his volatile nature. Wrapped in his own strange aura, Dark’s skin was gray as a corpse, his cunning eyes were ringed with black, and the only color that reached him were layers of red and blue that bled from his every feature. The more he came unhinged, the more his anger rose, the more distinct those layers became. They would move and act independent from Dark himself, but could not leave his body. The red would scream, the blue would howl, and when he spoke, they spoke as one. Layered, tethered, but only just.

Dark did not know the Host knew what he truly was. He’d let his friend think it a secret kept, just as he’d let Void think their own story was a secret kept. It amused him, in a way. Both knew the Host was the keeper of the universe’s stories, yet both thought their own hidden from him. The Host’s question notched the pitch of the ringing even higher, but the red and blue halves of himself were still tight to his body. Irritated, but not enraged. Not yet.

      “What I mean is,” Dark growled, “you did not come here to fix these particular people’s lives, you came here to mend the tattered veil. I fear you are losing sight of your goal, simply because your new… friend is invested in the wellbeing of a child.”

A deep breath was drawn into the Host’s lungs and let go before he fixed Dark with a flat look.

      “The Host’s patience is wearing thin at Dark’s unwarranted displeasure. He has gained an ally in this world, he trusts their judgement, and he is annoyed that Dark does not trust the Host’s judgement in turn.”

The demon’s mouth twisted, and the ring of his aura did not amplify, but dim. Close as they were, Dark would be a fool not to respect the narrator’s power, just as the Host would be a fool not to respect his.

      “I… apologize,” the word was bit out, but he managed, “but I do not know this entity as you do. I do not know their goals, their ulterior motives, and I fear that you are being used for their own agenda. I care about you, Host. Deeply. I won’t have you twisted to the whims of another.”

A broken, tired laugh bubbled free before the Host could stifle it. He could see the doubt flicker across Dark’s face, and it only made him angrier.

      “… Care and control are the same word in Dark’s mind. What he fears is loss of that control, and the Host is tired of pretending he does not see it.”

Silence hung in the air, and the chill of the room grew biting with each deliberate footstep that carried Dark closer. The Host’s chin lifted with defiance, even as he felt the icy presence stop mere inches from him. What he’d said were the words he’d never have dared to speak aloud even just two months ago, but the damage was done, and he would face what came next without fear.

      “You are my friend. My only. Friend. I want what’s best for you. For us. Do you remember how first we met?”

He did. The Host remembered the unchecked power of his own narrations, new and absolute. He couldn’t turn them off, couldn’t speak freely, and he tore open his own doorway to the void by sheer accident.

      “You let me in. Not by desire or design, but you did. And I was able to teach you control. I was strong enough to muster some resistance to your narrations, and I helped you become what you are today. The world isn’t shearing in two at your words anymore, you have control over yourself and your powers. Where would you be now, had I not been the creature that crossed the veil when you needed someone most.”

The blood that trickled from the Host’s bandages were diluted with silent tears that tracked past his bared teeth. By some miracle, he did not shake, despite the sensation that the very ground was trembling beneath him.

      “That does not give Dark ownership over the Host. He is grateful for Dark’s actions, and he desperately wants to believe that Dark does love him-”

      “I do!” Frigid hands seized the Host’s biceps, and the words faltered in the narrator’s throat as Dark’s discordant voice swelled to encompass the world. “I always have! We are two halves of the same whole, which is why it frightens me that this-this stranger has come between us! After all we’ve been through! You question whether I still care for you, yet I am not longer certain you still care for ME!”

The Host let his friend seethe in silence, anger still burning in his own veins, but it was robbed in an instant by two shaking, vulnerable syllables.

      “Do you?”

The icy hands on his arms fell away as Dark stepped back, but the Host was almost too stunned to answer him. Despite the visible layers to the demon he’d come to care for, there were infinitely more beneath the surface. Layers even the Host had not yet breached, and his voice was lost to the tiny glimpse he’d seen through the crack that had transcended every last one.

      “… He does. The Host admits times were simpler, easier when it was only himself and Dark, but those chapters have been written. There are no more revisions. They have entered a new story, and the Host wants Dark to be part of it. Just as he wants Void to be part of it.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The crack slammed shut with Dark’s surging rage, the ring of his aura seared against the Host’s eardrums, and the red and blue halves of himself almost tore free entirely. It was every inch the anger he’d shown Anti when the glitch had possessed the Host.

      “We could go BACK to those chapters if I tore that defect APART-!”

In one lightning move, the Host’s arm crossed Dark’s body, seized the opposite shoulder, and turned them both around to slam the demon’s back against the wall. The flicker of genuine shock across Dark’s face did nothing to dampen the Host’s anger as he held the man pinned with one arm.

      “Damien.”

For the second time, every last layer of Dark splintered at the sound of his true name. A name he’d never revealed to the Host, who watched the implications of that knowledge leave the demon even paler. His eyes were wide and his chest stuttered beneath the Host’s arm as the narrator leaned closer.

      “Damien… led the Host to believe he was the only being in the universe who would have him.” Dark watched Host’s lips tremble with the controlled effort to spit out what followed.

      “You’re not.”

The arm fell from Dark’s chest, but he didn’t move an inch. The Host knew, in all the years Dark had known him, he’d never heard the narrator speak in first person. It spoke more to his true feelings than a thousand screams ever could. Like the unmooring of a ship, Dark drifted from the wall, and his uncertain hands straightened his suit jacket.

      “… Are you telling me to go?”

      “The Host is telling Dark to accept. He cares for him. He holds dear the chapters that have been written. Just because he cares for another does not mean he doesn’t wish to write more. But he sees now that Dark has used him. Dark has controlled him. No more. Never again. The Host will stand by his side as his equal, not his project. He will not turn Void away for the sake of Dark’s ego, at the expense of his own wishes and theirs. More is at stake in the multiverse than feelings, and the Host will spend his efforts as he chooses, not by Dark’s permission. Does he accept?”

Dark’s eyes slid shut. For once, the ringing lessened, and the harsh red that followed his every move seemed to recede until all that remained was blue. The Host reached out and planted his hand over Dark’s shoulder.

      “… How long have you known my name?” Even the demon’s words were less discordant and layered, closer to his mirror’s voice than his own. The Host gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze.

      “Since the day they met. Following the rabbit hole that is Dark’s identity helped ground the Host in the beginning.”

      “Fuck.” It was little more than a whisper, and Dark turned his broken neck away from the Host, but he did not pull free. “I didn’t… want you to…”

      “He knows. It was not a story Dark wanted to tell him, and the Host has kept it safe. He asks for that level of faith and trust in return. He is not asking Dark to share the Host with Void, but to see that the Host is not an object to be shared. He has grown, he has learned control over himself and his powers, and he deserves agency. Caring for another does not mean he cares less for Damien. Does he accept?”

A flicker of anger returned, evident by the red that bled back into the layers of his body. He couldn’t meet the blind man’s gaze, so the blind man gripped his shoulder harder.

      “The Host will need the help of both his allies to repair the wound to the multiverse, and keep the void from tearing free. If it consumes this universe, and every universe beyond, the Host will die. Even if Dark survives, the stories that sustain the Host will not. Dark’s iron will is not enough keep the Host alive in a world that needs no narrator.”

Dark sucked in a deep breath and turned his neck with an impressive crack. The Host’s hold on him lessened as he felt the muscles beneath his hand lose a fraction of tension.

      “… So my choices are to accept this other, or watch you die in my arms, is that what I’m to understand?”

      “Yes.”

He could read Dark’s frustration as easily as his favorite book. The man wasn’t used to ultimatums that were not of his own design, and never had he been given one by the Host himself.

      “It’s hardly a choice at all.”

      “Prove the Host wrong in his belief that Dark would be an asset in this fight, if he were anyone but himself. Does. He. Accept?”

The telltale tear in reality sounded above their heads from somewhere on the second floor, and the Host knew he only had a few moments before the mask of aloofness was fitted back over Dark’s face. His double’s eyes raised to the ceiling with a frightening scowl.

      “He does.”

With that, Dark vanished beneath the Host’s hand just as a pair of boots began to descend the stairs.

It had started small. Flickering lights, lines of static sliding up and down the TV, the dial tone of a phone both on the receiver and no longer wired to the wall. Small reminders that something was always there. Always watching. Marvin had doubled down on the dome’s security, but it had only dampened the incidents for a short while. It felt like being trapped in the control room of Jurassic Park, watching the raptors test its defenses one by one.

Despite Chase’s eagerness to put an end to another doorway, Marvin wasn’t ready. Between the life-sucking orb, closing the first door, and Anti’s continued attempts to breach the cabin, the wizard was running on fumes and spite. He wanted in while Marvin was weak, and keeping him out was only making Marvin weaker.

Or maybe it was just a show.

Chase frowned from his chair at the kitchen table. The kids were tense but happier now that they had fresh clothes and toys. He and Stacy had been doing everything they could to keep their minds off the actual monster trying its best to get in. Yet… Chase couldn’t shake the idea that it was an act. He performed for a living (or tried to), it wasn’t a stretch to think the glitch might be doing parlor tricks to keep Mavin from recovering.

The wizard was pacing upstairs, he could hear the rhythmic creak of the floorboards. Chase straightened his ball cap and hauled himself to his feet, past Chandler cooking dinner, past his family playing Trouble on the living room floor. Chase padded up the stairs in time to see Marvin turn around at the end of the hall and stop. The vlogger had fully intended to walk right up to him, but something in the wizard’s eyes raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Marvin was guarded, his stance defensive, and Chase could all but feel the tired man sizing him up.

      “Marv, it’s me. Chase Brody, lame as ever.”

The glare lasted a moment longer before it flickered and died, and Marvin sagged against the table at the end of the hall. His hand reached up automatically to push back a stray lock of hair that had escaped the tie.

      “Sorry. For a second, I thought he got in.”

      “Yeah, that’s kinda what I wanted to talk about. Marv, I think he’s just playing you. If he could get in, he woulda done it by now.”

A heavy sigh pushed through Marvin’s nose, and he pulled the tie from his hair. It tumbled free over one half of his face, and he pulled it all back for a fresh bun.

      “That thought crossed my mind as well.”

      “At this point, you’re just a dancing puppet for him. You said it yourself, he can’t get in the dome. I think we’re good, man. You should get some fucking sleep.”

Mavin threw a glare toward the window on the far wall of Chandler’s bedroom. Chase followed his gaze, but there was nothing there. Just empty sky and the dirt road that stretched away from the cabin. Chase took a step closer and lowered his voice.

      “We’ll stay inside. We’ll shut off the breakers if that makes you feel better. But Marv, you’ve gotta slow down. Eat dinner with us, and take a fucking nap, bro. He’s keeping you on edge so you don’t get better.”

The slight chuckle surprised him, and Marvin’s gaze lifted to meet his squint.

      “Do you have any idea how weird it is to hear ‘self-care’ out of my own mouth?”

      “Can’t be that weird,” Chase put on a terrible, exaggerated accent, “cause I’m not fookin’ Irish.”

Marvin grimaced and recoiled with a noise of disgust, and he shoved the vlogger away as he straightened. “No, you’re not, don’t you ever insult my country like that again.”

Chase only grinned and waved a hand down the hall. “Come on, be angry with me over food. Remember food, Marv? It’s like a hug for your stomach.”

      “It’s going to be my foot in your stomach if you don’t shut up.”

      “That’s the spirit.”

Sure enough, less than thirty minutes after the dinner dishes were washed, Marvin was sprawled across the couch, sound asleep. Chase was grateful his body at least had some calories to work with now, and he watched Stacy tug the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over Marvin. She caught Chase’s gaze, and he smiled.

      “I think he’s growing on us,” Chase mused, and Stacy rolled her eyes. “I swear, it’d be different if he didn’t look like you. I’ve seen you look that bad, and it makes my chest ache.” He couldn’t help but reach an arm around her waist and pull her in, and she rested a hand over his shoulder. It was comfortable, familiar, but they hadn’t been affectionate in years.

      “We’re gonna get out of this, Stace. We’re gonna put our lives back together, and it’ll be different this time.”

      “I’d like that.” Stacy’s admission was quiet, and she leaned further against him. “It’s going to take a lot of work. You’ll have to do more than want it, Chase.”

      “I know.” He let his eyes slide shut for a selfish moment, and just breathed her in. It’d be worth the uphill battle of getting his shit together just to come home every night to his wife and kids again. Like he was always meant to.

      “I know.”

Chapter Text

3AM

Light shined against Chase’s eyelids, but it was the soft sound of static that wrenched them open. His thin frame was on its side, on the edge of the bed by the barest amount after the kids had spread out in their sleep. There was nothing to see but moonlight splayed across the wooden floor, and his heavy eyes closed before the static came again, this time from the nightstand. The green numbers on the alarm clock were gone, and the display flickered and glitched with a faint hiss of static.

A heavy sigh pushed through Chase’s nose as his body creaked upright, gaze fixed on the clock as the static formed words.

       C̀͘ O̢̢͠ M̷͞E̵̡     

       O͞ U̷͟͝T̛ S̢͜͞ I D̨͟͠E̕

       C̡͘͠ H̴͝A̸͟͟ S͏̴ Ȩ̶̀

Blue eyes slid shut in the dark. It would be stupid, beyond stupid, but as if in a dream, Chase pulled himself out of bed. Padded lightly down the stairs. Pulled on his socks and shoes. All while what the actual fuck are you doing was hissed from the back of his mind. He’d been scared for so long, he was practically numb to it. Why not have this fucked up prison visitation.

       If he could get in, he would have by now.

Quiet as he could manage, the front door was pushed open, and Chase stepped out into the cool night air.

The silhouette at the edge of the property could have been Marvin’s. Only the shorter hair betrayed the demon’s true identity, but the sheer stillness of him raised every hair on the back of Chase’s neck, and regret compounded with every step against the grass. Blood pounded in his ears as his heart slammed against his ribcage, but his feet trudged on until Chase was at least eight feet from the edge of the dome.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other in the dark. Chase’s rapid breath dissipated into the night, but his mirror was calm, hands in his pockets, head at a slight angle, smiling.

      “Didn’t think you’d be this brave, Chasey boy. Look at you, proving me wrong.”

      “I’m not a fuckin’ child, asshole.”

The grin widened, and Anti’s eyes went briefly black as a glitch wracked his body like a shiver. There and gone in a moment. His eyes blinked open blue, and his body was still.

      “I know why you’re out here, Chase. Admit it. You’re tired. You’re exhausted. Scared your heart will give out from all this s͜t͏́͠res̡̡͏ş̸̀. Your body is weak. I’m not even h͏ù́͟m̡̢͞a̶̧̡n anymore, and I look healthier.” Anti chuckled, but not an ounce of warmth reached his eyes. “I can do this forever.”

Ice had filled Chase’s veins, and his eyes slid shut. The glitch wasn’t wrong, he was tired. If his family, and the whole fucking world hadn’t been on the line, he might have given in by now. Two years ago, he would have.

      “I’m here to make you a deal.”

Chase’s eyes snapped open, and his brow furrowed. “You mean a deal like the one you lied about to my kid?”

      “Ohhhh, come on,” Anti’s tone was light and mocking. “The kid was seven. I didn’t think he’d actually do it. How was I supposed to know he’s got more balls than his deadbeat dad?”

One worn sneaker took a step back toward the house, and with a moment’s hesitation, the other followed. Chase was too tired to just stand there and be insulted.

      “Have fun out here.”

      “I said I’d make you a deal. I’ll let your family live. I’ll let you live. I’ll even stand aside, and let you all fix the mess he made. Close the doorway, and live happily ever after. Have I got your à̛͞t͢t̶͝e͢nt̕io͟͞ń̨ ņ̵͝o͢w̵͡?”

Chase’s shoes came to a slow halt. His back was still toward the glitch, and his pulse ticked higher as he turned to meet that smiling face once more.

      “What the fuck do you want?”

      “Marvin.”

A short huff was the demon’s answer, and Anti’s eyes blackened as his whole body splintered in one violent glitch before it all pulled back together.

      “Let me ask you something, C͡ha̴͘͠s̛̀͡e. Why do you think you trusted him so soon? He started all this because he wanted power, what would have stopped him from using that power on you?”

      “… What do you mean?”

The words weren’t half as detached as he wanted them to be, and Chase’s breath caught as Anti stalked to the very edge of the barrier.

      “Think about it, Chase. He got pulled into this world alone. He needed allies, so he made one. He reached into your sad, weak little mind, and cast a spell to make you his. You think I puppet people. Well, I do... But I’ve got nothing on him.”

      “Y-you’re lying.” Chase’s voice quivered in the dark, and Anti’s answering look was that of near pity. The kind Chase would give a friend who went back to their ex for the third or fourth time, positive things would turn out different. It was the look of watching someone face the consequences of their own actions, and almost feeling sorry. Aside from rage, it might have been the most sincere expression he’d gotten from Anti.

      “Oh, Chase. He’s got his claws in you deep. Think about it – you had no real reason to trust him. But you convinced your family to. You could have let him die to the magician’s judge, and I would have left your family alone! Just like I promised. But you saved his life without thinking. Blind. Fucking. Loyalty. You’re not Marvin’s fr͡ie̢nd͡,̷ C͞hase̡,̸ ͡You͠'re j̢u̧s̴t̕ ͜hiś ͘gua͜rd̸ ḑo̴g.”

The vlogger’s eyes were wide, and his mind was reeling. Marvin- Marvin wanted to fix this. He was out making the dome at two in the fucking morning because he wanted to keep them safe. He- he couldn’t have-

       Why not?

Chase felt his tongue rise in the back of his throat and fought the urge to retch. The idea that he might have been used AGAIN had conjured a visceral fear, and it overpowered the shrinking whisper in the back of his mind that Anti was lying. If Marvin had turned his magic on Chase, he would have been powerless to stop him. His one trick was tearing open doorways across the veil, and that wouldn’t save him from fucking mind control.

It made a sick amount of sense. Marvin landed in their universe with nothing but a vendetta. Even if he didn’t have a plan for Chase, he’d have at least gotten free food, shelter, and safety in numbers out of their alliance. It was more than he started with.

      “It’s really not your fault, Chase. The magician plays the long game. It’s why we’ve been running fucking circles for two years. So let me make you a deal.”

An unsteady breath was forced into Chase’s lungs, and his eyes lifted to meet Anti’s. The glitch’s voice dropped even lower as he leaned as close as he could to the barrier.

      “You and your family get to live. Marvin gets to fix his mess. All you gotta do, Chase, is stall him when it’s over. When he’s good and we̡àk. W̧he͢n͡ h̸e͏ h̛as ̵no͟th͞ing l̨e̕f͞t͘.” Black clouded over the demon’s eyes, and the colors of the world began to separate around his glitching outline. His skin took on that cast of radioactive green, the gaping wound in his neck bled to life, and his voice grew higher the more he unhinged.

      “You ͟͏͡k͏̷e̸̢̛e͟p ̴hiḿ ̷tḩ͠͞e̸̡͘r̀͏͞é, ̸̢and y͘ou ̴stand d͞o͘͏wn̨̕ whȩ̢͢n ͞I̵̸͟ com̕e̡ ̵́t͘ǫ̕͡ s̴̀lit̶̀ h̷i̵͠͝s̢ ̡thr̢͟oą͡t.̧ Ń̵̸ò̸ ͘ḿore ̶̀iǹ̢c̸an͢͞t̸̛͠at̸̀io͟͝nś̡̢,̴̶̧ n͡͝͝o ̷͜m̡͞͡ǫ͟r̷e̛ ͘p̕͜o̕͜tion ḑrin̡̕͞ki͜͝͏ng, n̢o ͢es̴ca̧͏p͡e̵.”

Chase’s eyes squeezed shut. Instinct screamed no, NO, but he now questioned whether that instinct was his, or Marvin had grafted it into him.

      “…What happens after he’s dead? You just fuck off, stop killing people, what?”

 The colors around Anti snapped back into place as his body solidified with a smirk. “My retirement plans aren’t part of the deal, Chase. You give me an opening to kill the magician, the one who started all this, and you go back to your pathetic little life. Because if you take this deal, and come after me anyway? I will slaughter. Your entire family. While you watch.”

The urge to be ill returned, along with his anger. Chase was a pawn, a nobody, caught between two titans. It wasn’t fair.

      “Come on, it’s not that hard. You hold him up. You wait for me. And you say g̡̀͜oodb̸͢͡ý̧e̴͟.”

The glitch’s eyes flicked behind Chase’s shoulder, and Anti vanished before a tiny bead of light shot through the barrier where he’d been standing and detonated. Emerald fire tore up the curve of the dome and laid waste to the grass beyond, and it left a perfect semicircle of destruction in Chandler’s yard. The green flames doused just as quick as they’d manifested, and Chase turned to meet Marvin’s blazing eyes, locked on the place Anti had been moments ago. A hand was still outstretched and smoking, and it was reluctant to lower even as the silence stretched on. Marvin was still seething when he reached Chase, but the hand that wrapped around the vlogger’s arm earned a violent flinch.

      “Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

Chase didn’t answer. Anti was a fucking liar, he had no reason to trust the bastard, but the seeds of doubt were there. If there was one thing Chase was sure of, it was his own weakness, his inability to measure up when it mattered. If Marvin had decided to get in his head, there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to stop it.

      “Chase, answer me, are you okay?” There was an edge of desperation in the wizard’s voice, and Chase’s gaze finally lifted. Marvin’s face was tight and searching, and Chase pulled out of his grip. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”

He knew Marvin didn’t believe a word, but it was apparent enough that he wasn’t injured. Chase moved past him on numbed feet back toward the cabin, and he didn’t hear Marvin follow.

      “I don’t know what he said, but I know he’s wrong. Don’t let him get into your head, Chase.”

The wizard’s words stilled him for a moment. Then he pushed the door open and disappeared inside. The slow trek back up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain, and he knew settling back on the corner of his bed was a charade at best. The what-ifs would keep his eyes open til dawn.

       He saved my life in the void

              because he has no fucking friends

       he was willing to put Anti aside to fix the veil

              because the void would fucking kill him

       he’s protecting my family

             because he needs you to have his back

There was no denying he had put his faith in Marvin before it was earned. It might have been magic used against him, but… In all honesty, he’d just felt for the man. It was a pain he was used to. Marvin living on sleep deprivation and guilt, trying to fix a mess of his own making… fuck if Chase couldn’t relate. In the days, weeks and months after shattering his own marriage, he’d felt the way Marvin looked. Desperate to pick up the pieces and well aware who had broken them in the first place. Except Chase had fought that battle alone. He couldn’t blame Stacy for withdrawing, it was a matter of self-preservation. She’d lost him as much as he’d lost her, if not more so. He’d been the one to drive her away over a pipe dream.

Chase had wanted to help Marvin, because he’d lived it, he’d lived in that hell and taken occasional vacations out. Maybe he’d selfishly latched onto the wizard because he wished someone had been there for him... or maybe it was just a nice fucking foundation for Marv to build on.

      Was he angry enough to let him die?

The flash of the knife across Anti’s throat would haunt him for the rest of his life. Chase had never hurt anyone, let alone killed somebody, and he remembered the wave of blood that had poured down his face like it was still happening. Even if it hadn’t killed him, for a long moment, the glitch had suffered. Choking and gasping breaths that went right out the hole in his neck.

       No more incantations. No more potion drinking. No escape.

It was all too easy to picture. Marvin trying to gurgle a spell through his own blood, or pouring that potion down his throat just to have it leak out of his severed neck. Chase had wondered why Anti kept the wound, whether it was somehow permanent or to mock him for trying. Now he wondered if it wasn’t a badge to remind him how best to kill a wizard.

      Was he angry enough?

Had he been wronged enough to watch the life drain from Marvin’s eyes? Just because Anti said he wouldn’t kill him and his family didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Bent truth or active murder? Which had been worse?

      “Fuck…”

No matter where Chase put his cards, he would lose. The question was how many people would lose with him. It wasn’t until his exhausted, racing mind had collapsed on the brink of sleep Chase realized he hadn’t heard Marvin come back in.

Chapter Text

The next day dawned, and it was no secret Chase was skirting around Marvin. The glitch’s words ricocheted through his thoughts like bullets, tearing into anything that wasn’t the question at hand.

       Had Marvin controlled him?

The vlogger’s only response was the whisper of wind. It drifted through the blades of healthy grass where the fireball had detonated – he could find no evidence of the emerald flames sent to consume the bastard whole. It was like it never happened.

      “Chase.” Marvin’s voice drifted behind him, and Chase could feel the uncertainty in it. He was slow to turn and face the tight expression of his doppelganger. “You’ve gone out of your way to be anywhere I’m not. What did he say to you?”

He could feel the muscles in this throat tighten, and the words wouldn’t come. If only because Chase wouldn’t know what to do if Anti had been right. If their two-year fight had culminated in…

His brow furrowed. It had been a question in the back of his mind, and now seemed as good a time as any. He swallowed hard and forced himself to meet Marvin’s gaze.

      “… You’ve been fighting him forever. You made it your whole fuckin’ life. What the fuck did he do, Marv?”

The wind picked up around them, and it pulled at the tattered edges of Marvin’s cloak. He swept it out of the way and settled onto the tailgate of Chandler’s truck, hands folded and shoulders hunched as he weighed an answer.

      “… It all starts and ends with the Iris. I don’t think Anti as we know him was born, I think he was forged.”

      “Forged?” Chase echoed, and his hand snagged the brim of his ball cap before the wind could take it. “Like, he made himself this way?”

      “He didn’t, but someone did.”

Chase watched as Marvin leaned back and flipped a single palm toward the sky. With a shimmer of green, a fist-sized black orb solidified into existence and began to rotate several inches above his hand. It looked like a larger version of the one Connor had been given to kill him.

      “There is more than one Iris. They are artifacts of immense untapped power. Antimatter in even small amounts can release the energy of an atomic bomb when met with matter. The mage who’s notes I used couldn’t tell me his findings, because his last experiment with the Iris destroyed him. That was centuries ago.” The mirage faded from Marvin’s hand, and he let it drop.

      “… In another universe, it was scientists, not mages, who found an Iris. Researching another universe is like… walking through a funhouse of cracked mirrors, and trying to find the one that isn’t broken. From the few shards I could find… there was a group, either in the void or with direct access to it, that was trying to bond the power of the Iris to a person. I don’t know to what end, I don’t know how many died before they succeeded… but Anti was their last.”

Chase found himself drifting to Marvin’s side to sit on the tailgate as well. The old truck groaned under their combined weight, and the silence between them.

      “… You’re saying they made him like this. Did they name him Anti, cause I can’t see that shit on a birth certificate.”

      “I don’t know what his name used to be,” Marvin sighed. “It’s possible Anti was the code name for the project, or it’s just the one he took up after. Even if those people weren’t a universe away, I couldn’t ask them. He killed every last one.”

The sun was high in the sky, and visibility stretched for miles, but Chase still found himself checking the horizon for a familiar outline. Their one advantage out in the middle of nowhere, it was hard to make static look natural against a grassy field. 

      “And that was enough for you to take up the two-year battle? The fact he killed a bunch of psychopaths? These were the same people who made Void, they’ve got to be.” Chase remembered the Host recounting Anti’s words, calling Void a byproduct and a failed experiment. Their insistence they didn’t know the glitch despite having details no one else did. He was pulled from these thoughts when he realized Marvin had wrapped a hand over his mouth and failed to answer.

      “… Marv.”  

The wizard’s eyes slid shut, and Chase frowned at the redness he saw before they disappeared. That perpetual weight was crushing down on his shoulders again, bending the tired man to its invisible will.

      “Marv, he… he said you cast a spell to get me to trust you. He said it’s not my fault, and you play the long con. He told me I’m not your friend, I’m just your guard dog.”

      “That’s not true.”

Marvin’s voice was soft, and it crackled with emotion. His reddened eyes were fixed on empty space, unable to meet the vlogger’s gaze as he pulled in a shaking inhale and let it go.

      “… The day I tried to harness the Iris, my… mentor, my partner… tried to stop me, but it was too late. I’d seen what I’d seen, and Anti used our connection across the multiverse to escape through the Iris. Even both our magic combined couldn’t strike him. He…” Marvin’s face dipped as it turned away from Chase, who’s own gaze had gone pale. “There’s a reason my magic to banish him was strong enough to span universes to find you. Anti killed my partner. I watched the life leave his eyes, and I poured… every ounce of my own into tearing the bastard apart. In the moment, I’d hoped it’d kill us both. But here we are.”

Chase was left silent as Marvin’s bitter words ended, and a rough hand scrubbed over the wetness coursing down his cheeks. He couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, if Anti had managed to slit Stacy’s throat before he got to her.

      “… I’m sorry.”

      “It’s my fault he’s dead,” Marvin whispered, his eyes shut. “I’m not strong enough to bring him back. Not yet.”

The hand that had reached out to squeeze the wizard’s shoulder stopped in mid-air at the shift in Marvin’s tone.

      “What does that mean?” The silence that followed was answer enough. Marvin still couldn’t look at him, not that Chase could have wiped the horror off his face in time. “Tell me you’re not after his fucking antimatter to get your partner back-”

      “No!” Marvin thundered, and his face wrenched to meet Chase’s with narrowed eyes. “That’s not it. We’re the same, Chase, all of us. If I tried to infuse my body with antimatter, I’d end up just like him. WORSE than him. And that’s if I didn’t fucking explode, because it’s not supposed to mingle with matter in the first place!”

Chase waited until the tirade was over, and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Marvin’s anger simmered to cooler levels, and the vlogger let him stew in silence while the wind tugged at their clothes and hair.

      “If not…  him, then what was the plan? How can you bring him back?”

 Marvin inhaled sharply, his movements harsh as he swiped away the rest of his tears. “The same way I accomplished everything else arcane. I study. I research, I get stronger. I could force life back into his body today, but it wouldn’t be him. It’d just be a soulless, shambling, undead entity wearing his skin. Bringing him back the way he was… I don’t have everything I need for that spell, yet. And I, well. I wanted to fix all this first. It’d be a waste if the multiverse unraveled two days later.”

      “Do you still fucking have him? It sounds like he’s just chilling back home-” Chase was silenced by a look. “His body is not on display, no. It’s in stasis, beyond the material plane. I didn’t set up my dead lover like a scarecrow in my living room.”

It was a morbid thought, but he pushed it out of mind. Chase had been left with what he started with – Marvin’s word against Anti’s. And the fact one had tried to kill his wife and abduct his kids, and the other had done his best to protect them.

      “He wanted to make me a deal.” Chase saw Marvin’s head pick up in his peripheral vision, but his own gaze was fixed on the perfect grass where the glitch had stood the night before. “He said he’d let me, Stacy and the kids live, and he’d let us close the doorway, if I gave him a window to kill you.”

      “… What else did he say.”

      “That if I took the deal and still went after him, he’d kill my entire family.”

      “Fuck…” Marvin shifted with frustration beside him, but Chase still couldn’t look. He’d have given himself to the glitch by now to keep them all safe, if he was dead certain it would work.

      “Even if I took that deal, what would stop him from killing all of us, anyway? It’s not a blood pact, it’s just his fucking word. Whatever that’s worth.”

That earned an acknowledging tilt of Marvin’s head. Chase’s snapped around at a high-pitched shriek from the cabin, but he could see through the window that it was just the kids playing. It’d been so long since he heard Ellie laugh like that, he’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

      “I didn’t control you, Chase. It’s a spell I’m capable of, I won’t lie to you. But the last thing I felt I deserved was your trust, I wouldn’t have had it in me to compel it out of you.”

      “I’d buy that. You showed up looking like the saddest motherfucker alive.”

Marvin snorted and slid off the tailgate with a grunt, and Chase followed him back toward the house. He felt better knowing the wizard was on his side, and hadn’t pulled any bullshit to be there. They pulled open the front door and Stacy smiled from the living room floor, where Connor and Ellie were restacking Jenga blocks beside her. She climbed to her feet and waved the twins into the kitchen before dropping her voice low.

      “Listen, the lights, the appliances, it’s all getting worse. Chandler turned off every breaker but the kitchen, and it’s still happening everywhere in the cabin. How the fuck is he doing that?”

      “I haven’t been able to figure that out,” Marvin admitted as the kitchen light flickered on and off again above his head. “I don’t know how he’s circumventing the dome, even if it’s just for parlor tricks.”

Chase craned his neck to peer out the window, and caught sight of Chandler on the back porch, drinking a beer. The aluminum raised to his mouth, and Chase caught the reflection of a line against the can. His gaze turned to find the powerlines embedded to the cabin that trailed to the electrical pole near the driveway, and all the way down the dirt road that led to the state route. The further it stretched out of sight, the more Chase’s blood congealed.

      “Guys…?”

Every head in the room turned not to Chase, but the TV. The screen blazed to life with a roar of static, and both kids covered their ears at the sheer volume of it. The back door burst open as Chandler all but threw himself back inside to find them all transfixed to the TV.

Out of the churning static, a hand lurched through the TV and clamped onto the edge of the mantle. Connor and Ellie screamed as the static roared even louder, and a second hand clawed out of the screen.

      “UPSTAIRS!” Marvin screamed, and all but threw the kids toward the staircase before tugging the adults along, “GET TO CHANDLER’S ROOM, GO!”

Chase caught a glimpse of biceps crawling out of the TV, and just a hint of hair before Marvin shoved him up the stairs and barricaded the hallway with a flash of arcane energy. The static resonated down to their bones, Chase could hardly hear himself think over the roar and the monster soon to be at their heels. His whole family was huddled wide-eyed in Chandler’s room as told, and Marvin threw himself to the ground to start drawing a fresh teleportation circle.

      “MARV, MAKE IT FAST!” Chase glanced up as every light in the room surged to life. The alarm radio began to shriek and spark from the energy pulsed through it, and Connor wailed as an arc of green shocked his arm. Somehow, over the cacophony of the cabin, Chase swore he heard deliberate footsteps down the hall while Marvin’s chalk piece raced across the wooden floor.

      “MARVIN-!” the circle of runes seared to life before Chase could finish that thought. “INSIDE, INSIDE NOW, GO!” The wizard ushered them all, and one by one the Brodys stepped into the teleportation circle and vanished with a flash of green light. Chase looked up in time to see a silhouette in the doorway, but before he could open his mouth, an arm wrapped around his chest from behind, and Chase’s stomach lurched as he was pulled through the circle.

A layer of dust had gathered over every inch of the rental home. Chase’s desktop computer was silent, the bed still unmade from the last time he’d slept in it, and the dishes on the counter had long since dried. Nothing had disturbed that space in weeks.

A crackle of energy filled the air, and without warning, six people toppled in a heap onto the vinyl floor. Connor and Ellie were both wracked with tears, and Marvin climbed to his feet in an instant to start warding the area. Chase remained on the floor, elbows on his knees, hands fisted in his hair beneath the ball cap. He was shaking from more than just fear – they’d just been dealt a crushing blow. Chandler’s place was remote, and it had infinite resources thanks to the Host. Whatever was in his own pathetic refrigerator had expired by now. They were back to nothing. Chase felt Stacy’s hand on his back, but his muscles wouldn’t move.

Their one advantage was gone.

Chapter Text

The hours crawled. Marvin had assured them he’d done his best to make a blend of illusion and protection around the shitty rental house, so that no one who happened to glance in the windows would see movement inside. Chase never felt so trapped. It had been bad enough in Chandler’s cabin, with resources and room to spread. Here? It was four adults and two kids on top of each other, and there was nothing in his cupboards but pancake mix and ramen. If Anti knew where to look, all he’d have to do is wait. And not for long.

As much as Chase wanted to be someone who went against the norm, who embraced the unconventional, he would have committed murder to have a routine again. To wake up with a schedule, and know what his day was going to be. If he wasn’t working from home, it was setting five alarms starting at 6:50, getting up, grabbing a shower, going to work. Throwing a ramen brick in the break room microwave, or scrounging up change for a vending machine lunch of slim jims and cheezits around 12:30. Grabbing his afternoon break outside, pretending the air was fresh, and buckling down til 4:00. Stopping for the cheapest groceries he could find after work, or heading straight to pick up the kids from Stacy. Winding down with a binged show alone or a movie with the kids. Preparing the morning’s cup of coffee to auto brew and going to bed to start the cycle again. Chase would die to have one day of his life be predictable.

Stacy caught his arm as he turned to pace down the hallway again, and half tugged out of her grip on instinct before he stopped. The kids were out of sight in his room, and she had let her mask of forced calm fall away.

      “I know it’s not fair, but you have to get it together. You’re just scaring them more.”

Chase’s eyes cut to the end of the hall and held onto their hardness a moment longer before it leaked away. “I’m so fucking tired. I just want this to be over.”

      “S  o    d o   I    cH  A s   e …”

His neck snapped around to find Stacy’s face contorted. Her eyes were rolled back, her skin gray, and the mouth was stretched too long for her jaw to allow. Chase threw himself backward as it stretched further still, until she looked like a living version of the scream mask. He landed on a decayed floor, covered in ash and fallout. His knees and one hand skittered him backward down the hall, the other hand clamped over his own mouth to prevent the scream building in his throat.

Stacy’s body was locked in place, the shoulders hunched like they were attached to strings. Chase watched as a stiff leg was guided forward. Then the other. Her head tilted to the left and then snapped straight once more. The closet door at the end of the hall groaned as his back struck it, and his panicked eyes chanced a glance toward his bedroom window. It was boarded shut.

By the time he looked back, Stacy hurtled toward him like a doll tied to the back of a car, and that stretched mouth was the last thing he saw.

      “Marv, help him!”

      “I’m trying, I’m trying!”

Chase was propped against Chandler’s chest, locked in his protective hold as the man thrashed in his grip. Stacy was comforting the kids in the other room, and Marvin had one glowing hand pressed to Chase’s forehead. Unlike the times Chase had gone catatonic, he seemed to be in full control of his body.

      “Believe it or not, this is better than it could have been,” Marvin murmured to Chandler’s exasperated look, “It’s a vision, he’s not there. He wouldn’t be fighting you if he was there.” He could tell his reassurances went unheeded, and not without reason. Chase was paper white with a hand wrapped over his mouth, digging his heels to cringe deeper into Chandler’s grip. It was with a flare of guilt Marvin realized he was trying not to scream. The incantation flowed from the wizard’s tongue with determination, and with a flash of green, Chase’s eyes snapped open.

For a moment, he recoiled in Chandler’s grip before recognition flickered across his face. His eyes slid shut, and he sank against his brother as all the tension left his body at once. Chandler propped him up higher and let out a breath he’d been holding.

      “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

Chase managed a nod and let the hand slide from his mouth at last. He looked back toward the end of the hall and Marvin followed his gaze.

      “What did you see?”

      “Stacy,” he wheezed, “but her face was…. she looked like a fucked-up doll, and it came at me.”

Marvin let out a breath of his own, and motioned into the bedroom for Stacy to come back. Chase’s eyes went wide for a moment, and he pressed back against Chandler, but it passed when he saw his wife was the same as ever. Stacy knelt down and Chase seized her hand like a lifeline before he found his voice again.

      “… We gotta close this tear. We gotta do it now.”

      “We will, at nightfall. It has to be done in the street, where your car was, and we’ll be seen if we attempt to do this now.”

      “What, and nobody’s going to see it at night?” Chandler demanded as Chase peeled out of his grip and climbed to his feet on shaking legs. “I thought you said that shit was glowing when you fix it?”

      “It is, but it’s easier to cast illusions in the dark.” Marvin held out a hand to pull the elder Brody to his feet. “Hiding at night is easier than hiding in broad daylight, it’s less detail for me to obscure.”

      “As long as we do this tonight,” Stacy warned, her eyes hard. “I’m tired of being hunted by shit I can’t fight. I want to take my family home.”

      “We’re close. We’ll close this tear, and all that will be left is the dam.” Marvin wished he believed it himself. They could close the veil, but the fight with the glitch would go on. It wasn’t going to end until one of them slaughtered the other. It couldn’t end any other way. With any luck, Anti would care more about hunting the wizard than the Brodys, and they could go back to their lives. With or without him.

It was agonizing work, watching the sun’s glacial descent in the sky. Every minute, every hour, the air in the cheap rental home seemed to grow thicker. It felt like they couldn’t breathe. The tension mounted like the ocean depths against a diving submarine – pressing, creaking, groaning into every crack and crevice of their psyche. Chase wasn’t sure how much of his sanity would be left when the time came.

Somehow, they all clawed their way to sunset, and then true nightfall. With a few whispered words from Marvin, the streetlights surrounding the house dimmed and extinguished, and he waited a few minutes longer before he ventured outside. Chase watched as he stalked down the driveway and, like stepping through a curtain, Marvin vanished from view. The driveway and street were still there, it was like Marvin had been photoshopped out of the picture. Chase waited a tense moment longer before he snuck after him.

The threshold of the illusion wasn’t tangible. Chase kept moving forward and Marvin appeared out of thin air, right where his car had been a lifetime ago. When his only problems in life were unemployment and an eviction notice.

      “Is the Host coming?” Chase whispered as Marvin’s eyes took on that familiar cast of pupil-less green. “Or Void? Someone who can help?”

      “I don’t exactly have their numbers,” Marvin said in a dry tone as he traced the air with one pale hand that then brushed the collar of a trench coat. He let it fall as the green faded from his eyes.

      “The Host senses Marvin’s annoyance and apologizes for the abrupt intrusion, but he is here to offer his services.”

      “Is Void here?” Chase asked, and the Host offered a single nod. “Void is incorporeal but present. They felt it safer to spread their awareness in a wide net while Marvin and the Host work.”

      “If you could just… give me a boost for what I’m trying to do, I think that would be enough. I want to do this quick.”

      “The Host understands and vows to do his best.”

Chase found himself searching the air as Marvin worked, half listening to the Host narrate the wizard finding the tear easier, weaving the threads stronger, and more. Looking straight into the darkness, he saw nothing, but in his peripherals, he swore there was a haze of red. Like how fog appeared worse where you weren’t looking, and cleared when you turned your gaze. There was a definite charge around them, and more than just the familiar one he’d come to associate with Marvin’s magic.

Just as before, the magician’s shoes lifted from the ground. Marvin hung suspended in the air as emerald light trailed from his hand like thread. This time, he wasn’t gray and fighting for breath like he’d run a marathon, he was steady and calm. The arcane threads stitched a jagged line in the night air with strength and purpose, and Chase could almost feel some of that tightness in his chest from the monstrous vision recede. Marvin had lowered to the ground to reach the final few inches of the tear when the redness in Chase’s peripherals violently condensed, and Void manifested in a defensive stance between Chase, Marvin and the Host.

      “He’s here.”

One by one, every streetlight Marvin had snuffed out illuminated with a blaze of green. Three lights from them. Two lights from them. One light from them. Then the one above their heads seared to life, blinding them all. Chase backed into a huddle with the other three, a hand over his eyes as the afterimage burned deeper into his retinas. For a horrible moment, there was nothing but silence and the sound of shuffling bodies.

Reality tore open, and Chase felt an arm that had been pressed against his vanish just before something collided with his sternum hard enough to send his body flying. He hit the crumbling pavement and stars exploded in his already-compromised vision. Chase curled in on himself as the pain followed the ringing in his ears, it felt like his ribs were broken. Every tiny shift sent waves of pain through his chest, but he fought through it to climb to his feet. He could hear Stacy screaming for him to come back inside, but it was dim against the ringing and the agonizing waves through his chest.

A spectral circle of sparking runes flickered to life around Marvin’s hand, and he sent a bolt of magic into the darkness. It seemed to find its mark with a crackle of static that almost sounded like a scream. Chase looked over to find the Host stalking down the driveway, his lips moving so fast they almost seemed blurred, and Marvin held onto that bolt like a chain that he began to reel in, one heave at a time. It was stretched taut, anchored to something, and Chase watched the writhing shadow of static be dragged further and further into view. He almost missed the thrum of energy that reverberated through the electric transformer mounted to the nearest utility pole, but before he could open his mouth in warning, a jagged streak of lightning shot from the pole and grounded into the Host.

With a deafening crack, the narrator crumpled in Chase’s driveway. Under the glare of the green streetlights, he could see smoke drifting off the Host’s body. Void dropped into existence beside him, but Chase wasn’t given time to dwell on it before the thrumming came again.

      “MARV, LOOK OUT!”

The magic tether dissipated as Marvin turned his upper body and spread his arms parallel above his head and at his navel. A green forcefield shot to life between his arms a split second before lightning struck it. Marvin almost seemed to absorb the energy, his teeth bared as it wrapped around his body like glowing green armor.

Anti stepped out of the darkness, and the colors of the world sheared and separated with every movement. His sickly green hand was outstretched as he stalked closer, and Marvin’s eyes widened as the lightning bolt armor began to lose its shape. It writhed and constricted, lancing into the wizard’s skin at Anti’s direction. With a building howl, Marvin swept his hands outward and the compromised armor shattered into shining particles of green. Before he could catch his breath, Anti was on him.

The knife handle rammed against the wizard’s temple, and Marvin staggered backward. He managed to pull up another arcane shield to block a second blow, this time with the blade, and it punctured through the magical forcefield. Anti carved a line down its center and glitched out of existence, knife and all, just as Void manifested above his head, both massive needles aimed where his eyes had been. They hit the ground and rolled into a defensive position, trocars at the ready, and vanished in a billow of crimson. Chase turned to see Anti standing over the still body of the Host, bringing the blade within inches of his heart before red smoke seized the glitch from behind and tore him out of reality.

      “Are you okay!?” Chase staggered to Marvin, a protective arm wrapped over his own chest as the busted ribs shifted inside. The wizard nodded, and with grim determination, he turned back toward the glowing stitches that still hovered in the street.

      “Watch my back.”

Teeth gritted, face tight, Marvin pulled fresh threads out of the air and weaved them as fast as he could. The whole area felt alive with frenetic energy, and Chase wished he had brought something, anything to the fight other than own two hands. The street lights had extinguished, and individual ones flared to life with that resonating tear of Void’s teleports. One light away. Three lights away. Two lights away. Both beings forged by the Iris were locked in a fight Chase wasn’t sure he could have followed in daylight.

      “Marv, I know you hate hearing this, but you gotta move faster.”

Three lights away.

Two lights away.

One light away.

      “I’VE GOT IT!”

The circle of spectral runes appeared again before Marvin’s hand, and it condensed into the same glyph Chase had seen before. The conjured glyph shot into the stitching and shattered in a brilliant cascade of green light that danced across the knife as it plunged to the hilt in Marvin’s body.

The wizard rocked with the impact, eyes wide and air punched out of his lungs. He looked down in time to see the blade wrenched from his abdomen. Without thinking, Chase wrapped an arm around Marvin’s neck and yanked them both backward as he felt the tip of the knife carve across his forearm. Anti glitched apart with a roar of static, and Marvin was torn from his grip like a toy ripped from a toddler.

Two lights away, he saw Marvin’s back hit the street with a grunt of pain, and Chase ran for all he was worth. To what end, he didn’t know, but every fiber of him screamed to at least try. He almost reached the wizard’s side before Anti appeared above him, and the knife came down again. Not in the neck, but the chest, and Marvin’s body seized under the blow. Chase kept running, but time almost seemed to slow down around him as several things happened at once.

Red smoke billowed behind Marvin and gray hands grabbed his shoulders as Anti attempted to stab him again. Marvin’s bloodied hands raised, his pupils vanished, and green light snaked through the veins of his arms. His glowing palms were the only warning Anti got before a staggering beam of arcane energy blasted from the wizard’s hands and into the glitch’s body. Chase barely had time to see Marvin vanish with Void’s smoke before Anti was hurtled backward into the stricken vlogger.

Stacy and Chandler could only watch. Both had shouted for Chase to return, but he hadn’t heeded either of them. The idiot was out there in the street with nothing but his clothes and a ball cap while four inhuman entities fought to the death. The screaming started again when she saw Anti get thrown into Chase, but only one body hit the ground.

      “No, no, no, you son of a bitch, no!” She threw the front door open and bolted outside before Chandler could snag her. His gun was in her hands, and it shook as she neared the fallen outline of her husband. “Chase, get up!”

The hand that snapped out to plant against the pavement moved so fast that it took Stacy a moment to realize it’d moved at all. He tried to lift himself to his feet, but the disjointed efforts weren’t enough to manage it.

      “S̴̨͡h͝ó͝o͜͡ţ m̨̢͟e̢,” Chase snarled, his eyes a bright unnatural green from where he hunched against the road. .̷̡͢ ͜”Ş̵̸hoo̢̢͝t ̴̡͞yo͏̡͢ur͢ ͠f̷̢͞av̵o̕͡r̸͞i̧̢t̴̨͝e̢͞ b̡͜͜o̵ỳ̷̧.̷͜͜”

Before she could bring herself to do it, static swallowed her husband whole. The gun shook harder as it lowered, and she barely flinched when Void and Marvin collapsed at the end of the driveway. The teleporter had both hands pressed to a gash across their thigh, shoulders caved and chest heaving from exertion. The narrator’s motionless body was still smoking from the lightning bolt. Marvin was crumpled on his side with his back to them all, and Stacy could see blood trickling from his torso, down the gradual slope of concrete.

Like a stuttering heartbeat, the streetlights Marvin had snuffed out flickered back to their normal soft light, like his influence on them was gone.

Chapter Text

An eerie silence stole over the street, broken only by the teleporter’s ragged breathing. Stacy sucked in her breath and gave herself the luxury of three seconds to panic.

      One-one thousand

            There were two corpses in the driveway.

      Two-one thousand

Chase had been stolen again.

      Three-one thousand

            The cops were probably coming.

Stacy’s eyes snapped open. She seized Chandler’s arm, and he startled as she yanked him toward the end of the driveway.

      “Get Marvin, get him inside, Void, help me.” She dropped to grab the Host’s legs as a broken teleport carried the wraith beside them. Void’s teeth were bared as they propped up the Host beneath the arms, and his head lolled with their efforts. Stacy tried to lift, but Void jerked their head toward the house.

      “Don’t, the door, just open the door so I can see.” There was a desperate edge in the wraith’s voice, and Stacy did as asked. The front door was wrenched and held open, and the kids watched wide-eyed and pale as Void manifested them both inside, and Chandler carried Marvin in a moment later. Both men were laid on the cheap vinyl floor, and it was hard to imagine either of them were still breathing. The air was cloying with the scent of burnt fabric, flesh and blood, both from Marvin’s stab wounds and the Host’s sodden bandages. Stacy watched Void rifle through the trench coat like a person possessed before she turned and sprinted to Chase’s room. He’d said, a lifetime ago he’d said…

There it was, just like the day he’d stumbled home in the dark. Chase’s phone.

Stacy ripped the charging cable out and ran back to the group. The breakdown to come would be ugly, but for the moment, she was grateful her kids had been stunned into silence. The phone was shoved into Chandler’s chest, and his numbed reaction was delayed.

      “What…?”

      “Call Abe.”

His brows furrowed, and he turned a slow glance toward the two bodies on Chase’s floor.

      “Stace-”

      “It’s him or the cops who won’t believe us. Call. Abe. His passcode is 0506.”

Chandler cursed under his breath, and Stacy didn’t wait for him to do what he was told. She moved past Connor and Ellie’s silent sentry posts in the kitchen, and grabbed two hand towels to press against Marvin’s wounds. It felt like performative theatre – the wizard was almost gray, and a sheen of sweat had stolen over his face. He didn’t react to the harsh cotton shoved against the punctures, but she felt the faintest attempt at breath. The stubborn bastard was still alive.

The kids watched as Void managed to pull a glowing green potion bottle out of the Host’s coat. A crack had formed in the glass with beads of liquid were seeping through, and the wraith wasted no time propping the narrator up, tilting his head back, and pouring it down his throat.

An emerald light burned through every vein in the Host’s body, and the room hummed with arcane power. Void held him as his lungs expanded to their fullest, color returned to his skin, and the smell of burnt flesh faded. The light lingered a moment longer and vanished, and the Host’s arched back collapsed against the teleporter. His breaths were ragged, but he no longer resembled a corpse.

      “Th-the Hos’ as’s wha’ happened…” He slurred and sat up with Void’s help, but the teleporter didn’t give him a moment’s peace before dragging him to Marvin’s side. “Use your hindsight later, we’re going to lose the mage if you can’t help him.”

Stacy didn’t bother to keep the doubt off her face. Blood had soaked into her pant legs and spread through the kitchen towels despite her effort to stifle it. Even if Marvin had been in a hospital that moment, she would have worn the same doubt. The Host paid it no mind as he leaned on Void for help, and lowered to his knees beside Marvin’s body.

      “The… the Host places his hand on Marvin’s sternum, and the puncture wounds in his body begin to close. The tissues of his ravaged organs begin to knit, heal, and remember their intended purpose. The blood pooled in his lung dissipates. It reinflates and joins its twin in bringing oxygen to a depleted system that steadily replenishes. The blood level in Marvin’s veins starts to stabilize, slowly, gently, so as not to overwhelm his battered body. He breathes deep, and will find consciousness when he is ready.”

It was unnerving, watching color return to Marvin’s skin, and the knife wounds close on their own. As narrated, the wizard drew full, unhindered breaths on his own again. Stacy couldn’t help but press one blood-soaked hand to Marvin’s neck, but the pulse was there. Weak, and strengthening by the moment. She almost missed a white-faced Ellie tug at Void’s sleeve and offer them a single paper towel. The wraith made a face that could have been amusement, and accepted the sheet with a nod before pressing it to the gash in their leg, where it was almost immediately soaked and useless. The Host took a long, shuddering breath and raised his head.

      “The Host asks again, what happened?”

      “He got away.” Stacy’s voice was rough, and she pulled herself back from Marvin to wrap her arms around her legs. “… Marvin’s last blow sent him right into Chase. He couldn’t even get up, he just stole him and ran.”

      “He saw what we were trying to do, and he knows where we’re going next.” No longer holding it together for the Host, Void was little more than a haze of red in the shape of a body. “We need to move before Anti recovers.”

      “The Host agrees – with a wince and nods. Anti has entrenched his influence throughout the dam, and it is capable of far more energy there than the electrical grid he tapped into this evening. It would do us well to strike before he regains full power.”

      “He can’t…” Stacy brushed aside the rips in Marvin’s shirt to reveal unbroken skin, “he can’t do what you just did. We might have some time. Even if we don’t, Marvin needs a fucking minute. We all need a minute.”

      “Woah, woah, woah, slow down,” Abe demanded in Chandler’s ear, “I’m in the system, just give me the address.”

Chandler rattled it off and looked back at the shattered group behind him. Trench coat was conscious at least, and they were all huddled around Marvin’s butchered body. He heard keystrokes through the phone and a slight pause when they ended.

      “…There’s nothing active.”

      “What do you mean!?” Chandler demanded, “There’s no fucking way the whole city didn’t hear that shit!”

      “I am TELLING YOU, there’s nothing here! No disturbance calls, no lightning, no bodies, nothing! Last two calls we got near that area were for drunk and disorderly, and I’m pretty fucking sure that’s not you.”

A deep breath was sucked in – an attempt to not fucking lose it. The group had relaxed a fraction, and he watched Stacy reveal the patch of healthy skin where Marvin had been stabbed.

      “… The… the cryptids managed to sort themselves out, but we still need all the help we can get. The bastard has Chase.”

      “The guy who killed my partner? He kidnapped Chase?”

      “Worse than kidnapped, he’s wearing Chase like a fucking suit. We can’t hurt him without hurting my brother.” A heavy sigh came from the receiver, and silence followed. Tears were starting to run down Ellie’s face, but Connor looked completely shut down, and that scared Chandler even more.

      “That complicates things, doesn’t it. Where do you think he’s going?”

      “Jackson. You were right, it’s the last piece of the puzzle. Are there still cops and shit there?”

      “Not right now, no. I think the civil engineer types left, it should be empty… let me know when, and I’ll be there.”

      “I don’t know what you can do, other than call off anyone who notices shit going wrong. This guy just walked away from a 4 v 1, and took somebody with him.”

Silence fell again, this time thicker. He knew Abe was feeling the same frustration – what could the two of them do? Chase had slit the guy’s throat, and Anti kept the gash for looks.

      “Do the- the cryptids have a chance of putting this guy in the ground?”

      “A chance. If it goes better than it did here, which isn’t fucking likely.”

      “Right… keep me updated. I want to be there. I NEED to see this case through.” He couldn’t see the tired rub at Chandler’s eyes, or the nod that followed. “Yeah, sure. I think we’re staying put til morning.”

12AM

It took time and a considerable amount of peroxide to get the blood off Chase’s floor. As predicted, the kids had broken down in spectacular fashion about thirty minutes later. Screaming, crying, clinging to their mother and uncle. They’d never seen so much blood and violence, and once again, their father had been taken by a monster.

Connor in particular did not do well seeing Marvin almost die again, when he’d been responsible for it the first time. Stacy wished her husband’s doppelganger would wake up, sit up, anything to show her son he was alright, that Connor hadn’t murdered him again. Ellie had burrowed against Stacy and refused to let go, save to yell at Void and Host to do something. She received no answer.

It took another hour for them to cry themselves to sleep.

Chase’s absence was felt in every atom of his tiny rental house. Anti was wounded and pissed, and he escaped with a punching bag that couldn’t fight back. There was no question he was going to do unspeakable things to Chase in his anger. They weren’t going to be able to even leave for the dam until Marvin was well enough to close the final door.

To his credit, the Host was trying to nudge that recovery along.

      “He has to save some of his own strength for the fight to come, it was draining to stabilize him.”

      “I watched you turn a river inside out,” Void frowned as they stitched the gash in their own leg. “Why was this harder?” The Host rubbed an absent hand at the fresh bandages that were already starting to soak through.

      “It was difficult, because his ending was written. Marvin’s story had only sentences left before it was complete. The Host had to conjure more pages, more ink, more possibilities for him. He apologizes for the lack of tangible evidence, but he spent far more energy than just the closing of his wounds. It was a labor no one but the Host could witness.”

Stacy tried to imagine it. What would Marvin’s book look like? Black and green leather, the four card suits, weathered pages. She pictured a disembodied quill scribbling toward the end of the last page before it was yanked away, the book was bent open, and more pages were roughly stitched inside.

      “The process is more delicate,” the Host offered unprompted, and Stacy was jerked out of her thoughts, “but the idea is not far off. If the Brodys are agreeable, the Host desperately wants to rest.”

It took some creativity to get everyone a place to sleep. They arranged Marvin on half of the couch so the Host could attempt to lounge comfortable enough to sleep on the other side. Chandler stretched out on the edge of Chase’s bed, the kids slept beside him, and Stacy curled up at the end of the mattress. Void did their best to get comfortable in Chase’s gamer chair before they gave up and dragged a blanket with them to sleep on the vinyl floor.

The vacuum of adrenaline had left them all exhausted, but Stacy couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Chase. All she had to hold on to was memories and the crushing fear that she would never see her husband again. It was worse than every time he left the house looking more depressed than usual. It was worse than every time she documented how forced his smile was in case it would serve as evidence for what tragedy came next. Stacy would have given anything to unlearn the fact he’d tried to kill himself when she left him. That trying to save some shambling resemblance of her own life had almost ended his.

She loved him. She’d always loved him. And that day she’d needed, more than anything, her husband to choose her and the kids over a couple more views on his channel. He hadn’t. Leaving him had been reasonable, all the signs, all the advice in the world had told her it was reasonable.

She still felt like an accomplice to attempted murder. Even if they could afford the dual therapy to unpack all that, there was a good chance she’d never see Chase again. He was a toy for Anti to take out his frustration on, and a human shield if anyone tried to kill him. Chase was the perfect leverage for Anti to escape unharmed.

Stacy just hoped it was leverage enough for everyone else.

The world was dark, churning static. No beginning, no end, no way out. It was worse than the void, because at least the void was something. Chase felt like he’d been stuffed into deep space, but there was nothing to hold on to but pain. Searing, agonizing pain. Every nerve was on fire, every movement felt like his bones shattered and reassembled. He couldn’t see, but he could feel his broken body through the haze, and it was far beyond the rib injury that seemed laughable now. It took ages to realize the truth.

It wasn’t his own body that was walking wounded down to the marrow. It was Anti’s.

Chapter Text

The lights of Jackson Hydro Dam began to flicker. The whole facility seemed to hum to life at a slow, disjointed pace. Machines switched on here and there, lights dimmed and brightened, fan blades spun with force and tapered off only to whirlwind again. The epicenter of the phenomenon was the generator room, where the lazy turbine began to churn faster. The lights flared hotter and hotter until two burst in a shower of sparks, and a man crumpled to the floor beneath them.

It was all Anti could do to remain solid. His limbs didn’t want to respond, his lungs didn’t want to fill, every nerve burned from Marvin’s concentrated rage. Chase could only watch from his backseat in his own body, although the glitch didn’t spare him from that pain in the slightest. For a long moment, all he could do was lie against the concrete and tremble, sucking in wet, ragged gasps of air. The hand he planted to raise himself higher dissolved into static, and his cheek was plastered back to the floor with a pained whimper. It turned into a coughing fit that wracked his mutated body til he managed to lean over and spit a gob of blood onto the concrete.

       I’m pretty sure you’re dying, bro.

       S̵͞͠HU͞͏͡T ̷́T̸́HE̶ FU̷͡͞CK̡͞ ̵̡͝UP̷͢͞

Chase winced at the sheer volume of Anti’s voice in his own head. It felt like it was on too many frequencies for his brain to safely process, and it left him dizzy for trying. He could feel a sheen of cold sweat plastering the t-shirt to their skin as Anti curled his shaking body in on itself and tried to breathe. The coughing had passed, but Chase could taste the blood welling from the back of his throat. Anti might have transferred his suffering to Chase, but Chase was growing more certain by the minute that his body was the only thing keeping Anti alive.

His own teeth bared at Chase’s thought, and with a sear of pain, Anti craned his neck toward the catwalk above. They were dumped onto the perforated metal with sharp cry, but Anti managed not to let them phase through it. Trembling fingers dug into the holes of the catwalk and dragged them inch by painful inch to the patch of wall that concealed the power lines from the generator. Like the day he’d summoned Marvin, Anti reached through the wall and grasped the thick, corded metal behind it.

The shock didn’t bring lancing pain, but a rush of adrenaline and relief. Anti took his first full breath of air since he’d possessed Chase as the electricity flooded their body. It should have killed him, but with the glitch in control, it was… healing. Nerves quieted, wounds began to knit, the taste of blood in his mouth diminished. The trembling that shook down to the bone began to subside.

Anti let his eyes slide shut as the power from the hydro dam put his shattered body back together. Now would have been the time to strike him down, but their ranks were thinned. The narrator was dead, the magician was dead, that left the teleporter and the… the other. The Host’s alternate from the void. Anti let that memory filter to the forefront of their mind – his stolen body pinned fast against the wall as the gray-skinned man ringed with red and blue stalked closer, hand outstretched, eyes burning with a cold and calculating rage. In a solid form, Anti hadn’t been able to overpower his influence.

The vlogger watched the foreign images with confusion, and it only mounted at the sight of the man who had taken on Anti and won.

       … Jim?

He ignored Anti’s surge of irritation as he concentrated harder on that face. It… it really did look like the reporter and the cameraman who had gone after Void. More terrifying by spades, sure, but somehow less unhinged than the duo. More than the reporter it… no.

All the alternate was missing was the trench coat and bandaged eyes. Chase felt stupid for not seeing that first. Christ, his universe really was a dumpster for everyone’s worst drafts.

       You'͡r͡e͟ no͏t̛ w̧ro͏ng͝.͜

Chase would have sighed if he had that luxury. With Anti’s eyes shut, Chase had nothing to hold on to but the surging power through their veins and the sweet relief it brought. Yet, the absence of that agonizing pain left a familiar vacuum of adrenaline. Both the souls sharing Chase’s body were exhausted.

Another foreign pulse of rage surged through him at the thought, and Anti opened his eyes. It was still a fight to unlock his protesting muscles, but he managed to peel himself off the perforated metal and instead sit with his back to the wall, a hand still wrapped around a power line. Chase could see now that every light in the generator room was flickering as the electricity was siphoned off for Anti’s gain.

       Wearing me isn’t going to save you, bro.

      “I͘ do͜n̴'t̴ ̡kǹo̷ẃ. ̛It's͞ ̡w̢o̶rk͏i̡n͡g͢ oưt ̢s̷o ̨f͢ar.” A hint of the glitch’s teasing tone had returned. With the immediate danger passed, Chase felt the muscles in his back ease, and his lungs took a full, cleansing breath of stale air. “G͘o̷tt͡a ͡b͠e ̢ho̴nest ̧w͢i̧th̶ ͜yơu̶,͠ C̸h̕as̶ęy bo͜y. Th̵i̸s ̛is ͠the̕ ͝best ͘I'̀v͞e ̡felt ͢in̢ y͘ear͟s͏."

The fight came flooding back in vivid detail. Chase felt the knife hilt like it was in his own hand, felt it sink into Marvin’s stomach and with a visceral, hate-fueled joy. The knife had swung back to split the wizard’s throat wide open, but Chase watched his own arm wrap around Marvin’s neck and wrench him out of reach. The knife carved a huge gash through his forearm, but he hadn’t felt it at the time. Not that it made a difference, when the next sensation was that knife punching through Marvin’s lung.

A breathless smile stretched across Anti’s face, and his eyes slid shut again. Chase could feel the satisfaction, the bone-deep relief that had little to do with the siphoned electricity. A tight coil of darkness he’d felt in this chest when he’d been possessed before had released. It stood in sharp contrast with the anger, frustration and rage that boiled through Chase’s soul.

        You were a fucking monster who crawled into his living room and killed his partner, why the fuck would he have ever let you go!?

      “I DI͝DN̡'T̨ A̸ŞK ̀TO BE MAD̡E!̕

Pain lanced through whatever between them still counted as Chase, and he mentally reeled from the iron hold Anti had on his mind.

        “I'̵M N͏OT͟ ̨T̢HE VI͞LL̶AIŅ OF͞ T͟ḨI̛Ś S̷T͘OR̀Y̡,͘ HE ̕ÌS!͝"͟

It felt like Anti was ripping Chase in two, it was all he could do not to make a sound. After an agonizing moment, the pressure on his being lessened and vanished.

       … There’s bigger shit at stake here than just you, asshole. We have to close the veil. They’re not gonna hold back just ‘cause you have me!

      "Wh͢ơ's͠ ͠t̶hèy?" Chase felt his own face stretch into a questioning smile, and his heart sank. Anti was right – Marvin and the Host were dead. If Void and the Host’s alternate were on their way, it was only for vengeance. The two would tear him apart to reach the glitch.

      “I gav̧e͜ you ̶t̨h̷e term̴s͟ ̵o̧f ͝our ́d͜e͘al,̕ C̵hàse. You̕ ̡si̶ḑed ̸wi̧t͜h the̷ ͟mągi̛c̢ian̵.”

Dread consumed what sensations were still his, and Chase fought to find his own voice in his mind.

       What are you saying?

      "I͝'́m ̵s͏ay͡in̸g̷ whe̡n I̴'m ͜bòr̛ed͞ wit͝h y͠óu͠, ͠w̧e'r͜e going ̸to̷ ͢pay y͞o͟u͡r f̸ami͞ly a ͡li͞tt͘ĺe ̴v̶i͟si͟t̶. I̶ d̕id ͠prom̛i͜s̀e̡ I͏'̨d ́m̶ake yo̸u͠ watch.͟"

Before Chase could spit out a curse, a blinding green flashed through every fiber of his being, and he knew nothing more.

Dawn crept over the rental house in waves of soft blues and grays. It brightened the smoky haze over the electrical transformer. It stole across the dark trail of dried and flaking blood in the driveway. It filtered through the dirty window across pale skin and long hair.

Marvin wasn’t sure what sort of afterlife he believed in. If he believed one was waiting for him. They were all beings of energy, it didn’t seem impossible for that energy to channel elsewhere in death. He was far from religious, and unsure if there was a word for his own convictions, but he was of the mind that no one who had faith in something was wrong. No person who followed a religion would reach the afterlife and be told just kidding, this other group had it right, your entire life was a lie. The universe was infinite… why should the afterlife be any different.

It seemed belief in the infinite meant his own atoms would be scattered and forgotten. Marvin couldn’t feel a thing.

The first weak rays of sun made him miss that void, because the more his awareness gathered, the more his body ached. Muscles were tight and unrelenting, and it was all he could do to force his eyes open. If this was some kind of hell, Marvin wasn’t shocked to find the Host and Void had been dragged down with him. The narrator was slumped on the other half of the couch, the teleporter was on the floor with a blanket, using an arm as a pillow. By all accounts, the trio should have died. Host was struck by not natural lightning, but a terrible concentrated amalgamation of Anti’s power and rage. Marvin had been stabbed in the stomach and the lung, and his consciousness was gone before Void had manifested them both again. After all but killing the other two, it wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d killed the wraith as well.

A weak groan was all the wizard could manage as he forced his body to sit up. His legs were cramped, someone had shoved them tight to his body so the Host could have room. Dizziness took the reigns as soon as his feet planted on the ground, and he was forced to sag against the arm of the couch until it passed. Marvin stepped past Void and made his quiet way to the bedroom to check on the others. For a moment, his brow knit at the sight of the Brodys cramped onto the mattress. Stacy. Connor. Ellie. Chandler. He craned his neck to peer past the bed, but the floor was empty.

Realization dawned. It pulled him through a crack in the ice and down into the frozen depths beneath it. Chase was the only person missing from his own house. He’d never leave his family, not after what happened, and it left two very bleak options, laid bare on the monument to Marvin’s failures.

Chase was either dead, or he was Anti’s prisoner.

A gentle hand rubbed over Marvin’s arm, and he was dragged back to the waking world with a tired grunt. His stubbled cheek was peeled off the pages of his open book, and a vicious cramp in his back made itself known.

      “… Guess I won’t be right up.”

     “I’m afraid that ship has sailed, ja.”

Marvin looked up into the familiar face of Emmerich. Taller, lanky, light-skinned and blue-eyed under a shaggy mane of chin-length ginger hair. The German mage was several years older, and Marvin felt a twinge of guilt at the sadness that tugged at his partner’s features.

      “The books aren’t going anywhere. I admire your drive, Marvin, but it’s bordering on obsession. You’re starting to worry me.”

      “Emm,” Marvin sighed, and dragged a hand down the cheek that still felt like it was plastered to the book, “I’m okay. I’m so close to understanding, I can taste it.”

The book was pulled from the table and shut with a pointed look before it was returned to the case of hundreds. He almost protested, but the words faltered when Emmerich found his gaze once more.

      “I know you want to be Marvin the Magnificent. But I’ve seen mages with that same fire behind the eyes, and most are not alive today. They destroyed themselves, or the people around them, and all we have left to remember them by is their research. I don’t want to be left with a book of your cautionary tale, Marvin, who do you think is going to have to write it?”

 Marvin’s eyes slid shut and he leaned into the comforting fingers that carded through his hair. “I’ve got it under control. I’m taking every precaution, I promise. Everything is going

       to be

            okay…

Most days, he welcomed a clear image of Emmerich, but his words carved through Marvin’s heart like a rusty blade.

       They destroyed themselves, or the people around them.

First Emm, now Chase. The hands he’d used to brush that prophecy aside were stained with blood. Marvin’s back hit the hallway wall as he tried in vain to see through tunneled vision and breathe.

      “Dad…?”

The wizard’s head snapped up, and Connor recoiled in the doorway. Marvin hadn’t even heard him get out of bed, but he got to watch the hope die in those young eyes as they realized their mistake. He wondered now, if he’d stayed with Saoirse and never met Emmerich, if they might have one day had a son who looked like Connor. The boy swallowed threatening tears and let his gaze drop.

      “… M’glad you’re okay, Mr. Marvin.”

His heart broke, but he couldn’t find the words as Connor turned and made his slow way back into the bed with what was left of his family. I’m sorry wasn’t enough. It wasn’t for the first time that Marvin wished Anti had struck him down instead of Emmerich. Chase wouldn’t have been caught in the crossfire, and Anti would have been burned to ash or thrown back into the void for good. Then again, he’d been harsh with Chase for expressing that same thought for himself… maybe it ran in all of their alternates.

      “Hey.”

Void was at his elbow, arms crossed as they cast a brief look in the room as well. “Come on. You can help them by helping us come up with some kind of plan. You’ve got the most hours fighting him, I know how he got made. Let’s talk.”

Marvin let out a cleansing breath and nodded, letting Void lead the way.

Chapter Text

Time felt like an open wound. Searing, pulsing, draining their strength and resolve. Almost more than stopping the void, Marvin wanted Chase back.  Safe and sound with his family, where he belonged. He knew it was a tall order – the glitch would not give him up without a fight. Not when he knew Marvin would pull his punches. How could he not, when he’d have to punch through the only friend he had left.

      “The Host… proposes bringing in Dark.” The name meant little to Marvin, but he saw the way Void winced as he continued. “He was able to separate the glitch from the Host, he may be able to do the same with Chase.”

      “He said he knew where you ended, and Anti began. Chase is his alternate, they’re the same person.”

      “The Host admits to Void that does complicate matters.”

Marvin watched Stacy pace the floor that divided Chase’s kitchen from his living room. He could tell she was wrestling with something that needed said, but it remained locked behind her lips. The wizard rubbed at the raw patch against his chest and fought the urge to cough. Marvin was on his feet, he was alive, but he needed time they didn’t have to heal.

      “Look,” Stacy spoke over the cryptids, who fell silent to listen. “The way I see it, there’s two things that want my husband dead. One is a metric fuckton worse. I want him back, but there’s no point if the void gets out of its cage. We’ll all starve or get eaten.”

The silence remained, heavy and thick. The kids were still in the bedroom, and their hushed murmuring was the only thing to hold on to as the air in the room congealed.

      “… Stacy’s right.”

Chandler’s voice came from a corner of the kitchen where he leaned against the counter, both arms folded across his chest.

      “We can’t bring him home if there’s nothing to come home to. Let’s take that piece off the board, get him and everyone else safer, and then we’ll talk about getting my brother back. If Anti kills Chase, he’s got no leverage. Nothing. Are we sure he even fucking survived Marvin’s hyper beam?”

      “Not entirely,” Marvin admitted, and straightened in his seat, “but I think we would have heard from Chase by now if he was in charge of his own body. Host, can you see him?”

The narrator’s head dipped, as if in apology, before it lifted again.

      “The Host needs a bit more time to regain his sight. Perceptions beyond the here and now are a strain, he would rather save his narrative strength for the task of closing the doorway. He-” the Host trailed off, stock still before his head turned toward the kitchen with a wince. “… anticipates a visitor.”

A ringing began to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Chandler did a double take where the Host was looking and couldn’t haul himself away from the kitchen counter fast enough. He almost crashed into Stacy by the time a red and blue line manifested in the air, and the silhouette of a man stepped out.

Oxygen and warmth seemed to leach from the room as the stranger eyed them all in turn. Marvin found himself shifting himself between the gray-skinned man and the Brodys, and it took a moment to recognize his familiar face and build. The Host, it was an alternate of the Host. Marvin hadn’t realized the blind narrator was Korean. Blue and red seemed to separate from every detail of the man’s body, to the point where he was almost a strain to look at.

      “… The Host urges Dark not to do anything rash-” he was cut off as the alternate strode forward, and Marvin on instinct pressed back to protect Stacy and Chandler, but the dress shoes stopped in front of the Host. That ringing swelled as a colorless hand reached out to touch the electrical burns in the narrator’s shirt. No one said a word as he brushed the gap open to reveal the unbroken skin beneath.

      “He was saved by Void. The Host promises he is alright, he will recover in time.”

Dark’s eyes flashed to meet the teleporter, who didn’t move a muscle. Their own grayed face was unreadable.

      “Where is the glitch now?”

The demon’s voice was similar to the Host’s but deeper and layered. Marvin cleared his throat and fought the urge to recoil as Dark’s neck snapped around, farther than it should have been able to, in his direction.

      “We have an idea, but we’re not a hundred percent sure. He’s licking his wounds somewhere, that’s all we know.”

The sourceless ringing was all that answered. Dark’s eyes raked across them all again before his voice lowered for the Host.

      “Is there somewhere we can speak?”

Stacy scooted out from behind Marvin before he could stop her, and she slipped down the hall to return with both the kids. The Host heaved a sigh and beckoned for Dark to follow him to Chase’s room, where he closed the door behind him.

      “The Host knows Dark has questions-”

      “Are you alright?”

Dark’s voice carried nothing but worry, and that stunned the Host silent for a moment.

      “… He is, thanks to his bargain with Marvin. Dark thought it a waste of time, but the potion he bartered for was precisely what Void needed to save his life.”

The demon’s eyes slid shut, and his head tilted with the set of his jaw.

      “The Host failed to anticipate the glitch’s move. His ability to tear himself from reality is difficult to narrate, and it was enough to distract him from the lightning that followed. It was no one’s fault but Anti’s.”

      “I should have been there.”

Again, the Host was taken aback by the sincerity in Dark’s voice. He was grateful now that they had sought privacy, because it never would have been allowed to surface under the gaze of the others.

      “… He’s grateful Dark is here now. One final doorway remains, he would have Dark by his side to see it shut for good. While he doesn’t believe the glitch is invested in the void’s release, it still lies in Anti’s domain. We have strong reason to suspect he will be there, and he will not aid our efforts. Not while the magician still breathes.”

Dark’s eyes slid shut, and the red of his anger seemed to consume the blue. The Host reached out as the red silhouette almost tore itself free, still tethered but distinct in its distant howl of rage. He held out a hand and the red ghost seized it with both of his own. Not quite tangible, but sensation was there. A whisper of desperation and cold.

      “The Host meant what he said before. He wants Dark to be part of his story. The cast may have grown, but he still cares for Dark. And he believes Dark will see Void as an ally in time.” Host knew it wasn’t what the demon wanted, and it would take time to reconcile. But Dark knew what was on the line, and what a world without stories would do to its narrator.

Chandler opened the front door at the first knock, and Abe’s fist was left hanging in mid air for a moment before he was pulled inside. The detective looked around at the familiar faces and nodded, although the tension in his shoulders was clear.

      “You guys, ah… said you needed a ride to Jackson?”

Marvin took a look out the window and saw a plain Ford Econoline sitting in Chase’s driveway. It’d at least do the job, and save them some magic. “All but one, someone has to stay with the kids.”

Stacy and Chandler looked at each other, and her eyes were cold as iron.

      “I’m not staying here while that monster has my-!”

      “You should go.” The tirade was cut short by Chandler’s soft sincerity, and she deflated under his sad, defeated smile. “I’m a hermit, Stace, the only thing I’m good for is running away. Take the gun, kick that door shut, and go get him back. I’ll keep the kids safe.” His eyes slid closed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed with silent gratitude. The moment was again cut short by the bedroom door slamming open, and that discordant ringing filling the entire home.

Abe’s eyes went wide at the sight of Dark, and Marvin hoped against hope the man would not put two and two together and realize this was the entity that murdered his partner. He had a strong suspicion that, like Anti, bullets would at most slow him down, and he hoped Abe was smart enough to reach that same conclusion.

Dark’s gray hand slammed against the hallway closet door, and they watched as red and blue light seared through every crack of the frame. The handle was wrenched open to reveal the familiar catwalk of Jackson Hydro Dam, and the demon crossed the threshold without a hint of hesitation.

      “Wh-we’re not ready!” Marvin yelped as the Host and Void were helpless but to take off after him, straight through the direct link between Jackson and Chase’s house. Stacy’s wild eyes found Marvin’s, and all he could do was stare back. It was too soon, it was too soon, but the train was leaving the station. Marvin stuttered a curse and ran through the conjured doorway with Abe hot on his heels.

After the destruction and cacophony of his last visit, Marvin was struck by the numbing quiet of the facility. The loudest noise was Dark’s footfalls against the catwalk stairs, and the slow churning of the generator. Marvin followed the cryptids with haste and called out when they walked past the summoning circle.

      “The tear is here, it’s right here, I need you all to cover me.”

Every hair on the back of Marvin’s neck stood on end as he commanded the jagged line through reality, deep in the heart of the glitch’s lair, to show itself. His dismay only mounted as the tear manifested almost to the ceiling in its entirety, and it gaped wide enough for a dusting of fallout to filter through. The crack to the void seemed to pull the very light from the room, but it didn’t matter. Marvin wouldn’t let that fear win. The void was not the entity that swore to destroy him, but it was very much a threat to them all.

      “Dark, Host, if you can help me, do it now.” Marvin’s feet left the concrete floor as his entire body began to rise toward the top of the writhing, glitching tear in reality. “Void, Abe, if you see anything move… you know what to do.”

It pained him to give that order, but Dark had taken planning out of the equation. Closing the tear was paramount, Chase was secondary. Their next mission. Marvin could feel strength and magic flooding his system, and knew it was the Host narrating him that power. It was still an immense effort to draw the arcane thread across such a gaping wound, the result of his being torn from a different universe entirely. Even with the Host’s help, his arms began to shake from the enormity of magic being pulled from his own battered reserves.

Below him, Dark’s deliberate steps carried him right to the center of the tear. The blue and red edges along his monochrome outline grew and shaped into echoes of Dark himself, twice his own height, and they leaned on either side of the wizard. Red and cyan giants, comprised of an energy even Marvin couldn’t guess at. Dark reached out his left hand, and the blue giant followed his lead. He reached out his right, the red followed. Dark’s fists closed, and both spectral hands seized either side of the veil. Marvin watched, stunned, as suited arms shook with resistance and dragged closer together, and both halves of the tear were dragged with them. The gap was shortened, inch by inch, taking an insurmountable strain off the magician.

      “I can handle it there, just hold it!” Marvin called down, still pulling arcane thread out of thin air for his stitches. It was still a long way to go, but he was less certain now that the task was going to kill him.

An eighth of the way.

A quarter of the way.

A third of the way.

Marvin was fighting the urge to be ill from the sheer whiplash of draining his power and feeling it reflood his veins over and over again. His eyes had shifted from clouded green to black as the void itself, and the four card suits were blazing like a tattoo against his pallid forehead. The Host must have been lending his own effort to keep Dark at full strength and the tear from resisting them harder, for it almost seemed ready and willing to be mended beneath his hands.

Half way.

Two thirds.

A gunshot deafened them all.

Marvin’s hands went instinctively to his ears, and he looked down in time to see Void and Abe vanish in a plume of red. A bolt of lightning cracked through the enclosed space, and grounded right where the pair had stood. The magician dropped out of the air and rolled, hands blazing green and teeth bared. He could feel that foreign charge in the air, the one only the glitch seemed able to manifest. Both of Dark’s outlines shrank back into himself, and he shifted into a protective stance in front of the Host. Void and Abe reappeared, and there was a beat of silence.

The lightning struck again, without charge or warning, and Marvin’s world was enveloped in blinding white pain. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, every nerve screaming, and he looked up in time to see the glitch’s stolen hands wrap around his neck.

      “C͟a̸n y̛ou̵ f́e͜el̷ tha͘ţ, m̀ag͟i̕c͜ia̸n?̸” Anti’s voice filled his mind like static, and it seemed to grind his whole body to a halt. It wasn’t just lack of air – Marvin felt like he was shutting down. “Cḩa̵se ͘c͟a͡n. ̧Yo͜u͟ sho͡u͠l͡d ̧h̵e̡a͟r͝ ̡hi̸m SC͞REA̶M͞IN͏G.̛”

Anti’s smirk was cut short by a twin pair of needles that punctured through his chest, and he was torn off Marvin with a cloud of red smoke. Air flooded his lungs and ringing flooded his ears as he turned and coughed against the concrete floor. Sounds grew distant over the pain of the lightning, and he was vaguely certain it was only the Host that was keeping him conscious.

Despite Dark putting the wheels in motion, the demon watched as Anti and Void carved their own tears in reality, one glitch and teleport at a time. They were true equals in terms of agility, neither faster or more predictable than the other. But Void didn’t have the advantage of a two-year thirst for vengeance. Anti reached up a hand and snared one of the trocars off Void’s forearm with a glitch of static, and their next teleport carried them chest-first into the gleaming needle.

The Host all but threw Dark aside, his bandaged face dark as a thunderstorm as he advanced on the glitch and Void’s writhing form. His narrations were so fast his lips were blurred, and it was almost impossible to make out the words he spit forth with fury. The needle vanished from Void’s lung and manifested back onto their forearm, and Anti’s outstretched hand froze in place where it had reached for the narrator.

      “DADDY!”

Ellie’s voice cut through the air from the catwalk, but it was drowned under every last bullet in Abe’s gun. The detective stalked forward, face twisted as he fired round after round into Anti’s frozen body. Stacy, Chandler and the kids were screaming, Abe was screaming, and in his anger, one bullet instead grazed the narrator’s arm.

The Host lurched and howled, his hand clamped over the wound, and Anti was free to stagger backward. Behind the bloody holes in his t-shirt, the bullet wounds began to heal, knit together, and vanish against his skin. He smiled as he stalked toward the narrator, until Void appeared like a vengeful ghost to tear the Host from reality. Anti glitched after them and was caught in mid-air by an unseen force.

They all watched as Dark, teeth bared and eyes black, held an outstretched hand toward a writhing mass of static. It glitched and lashed against his influence, expanding and contracting in violent bursts as sweat ran down the demon’s colorless face.

      “The universe has learned its lesson, but I guess you haven’t. You will NOT,” Dark snarled, his layered voice etched into every atom of Jackson Hydro Dam. “Be the FORCE. THAT TAKES HIM FROM ME!”

Both of Dark’s hands outstretched, and he turned to throw the entire antimatter cloud straight through the tear in the void.

Static solidified into Anti as it struck and rolled across the fallout-dusted ground, almost a football field from the doorway. Footsteps pounded down the catwalk stairs as Anti’s distant form climbed to its feet in the darkness, and Dark manifested his spectral hands again.

      “Y̷̢O̡͝U'̡L̸L̵͞ Ņ̕E͡V̶̡E̕R̨ ̶͞S̀̕E͠Ȩ ̸̕H́͞Ì͢͡M̧ ̡̛͜AG̢AI͜Ǹ͠,̵ S̶͡T̴͞A̷̴CY! ̵MĄR̀͡V̢͜IN!̨̛ ́I͡͝'̵L̡͢L͞ KIL͡L͡ H͜ÍM ̶͞S͜L̨͡ÒW̢!͘͞ ̧͘͞I͟'LL ͏̵̴D̛R̀͞ÁĢ̀͡ ̧I̶͢T̷͢ O͘Ų̴̡T͡͏ ̴̀F̨͟O̡͡R̴͜ YE̸A̸̕͠ŔS̕͘͟!̨̛”

Dark nodded to Host, who seemed reluctant in his narrations. Like the top already had, the bottom edges of the tear began to creep together and vanish. Stacy, Chandler, Abe and the kids stepped up beside Dark, Host and Void to watch the veil continue to mend shut with Anti inside it. Tears streamed down Stacy’s face at Anti’s taunts, and a broken sob tore from her throat as she turned her gaze away. Tendrils of darkness slid from the tear and creeped across the concrete like veins, but each one evaporated with a flash of golden light under the Host’s narrations. The dimension was hungry, and it would never be satisfied with the glitch or the body he’d stolen.

Anti strode backward with defiance, arms spread, watching his only means of escape disappear.

      “IŚ ͠THI͠S ̢W̡H͏A͟T ̨YO͢U͞ WAN͡T!?͘ Y̴OÙ'RE̡ JU͢ST ͘GOÍN̷G̶ ̷T̛O W͠AT͏C̶H́ AS ͘TH̀I͏S͏ ̕H͜AP͠PE͜N̴S!? ̢SÀY̢ GO͢ODB́YE ̡TO C͞HAŞE, HE'S G̨ONÈ F̨O̸REV̴-"

The gap was still shortening as Anti’s scream was strangled, and both glitching hands went to his head. Stacy turned to find Marvin clawing to his feet one-handed, the other blazing green as it reached toward the void. Chandler wrapped his arms around the wizard’s middle to haul him upright and keep him braced as the skin beneath his hands grew colder. Marvin’s eyes were black, his teeth were bared, and his words were nothing but a snarl over the sound of the closing doorway and his own sparking magic.

      “The cosmos is not yours to shatter, just because it wronged you.”

Anti curled further in on himself, mouth wrenched open in scream that swelled til it crackled with static and pain.

      “I learned that lesson. Why can’t you.”

The green fires of magic in Marvin’s outstretched hand flared to a near-blinding intensity, and for a moment, all they could do was watch Anti howl while the veil continue to shut. His body remained locked in place as two wild arms swung out of nowhere, as if looking for puchase, and Chase burst out of Anti’s form into a dead sprint toward the shrinking doorway.

      “CHASE!?”

            “CHAAASE!”

      “DADDY!”

            “DAD PLEASE!”

      “YOU CAN MAKE IT, BRODY, COME ON!”

The screams were mingled and distant as worn shoes slammed against the fallout-covered earth, faster than he’d ever run before. Chase’s eyes were wild as he put his shoulders down and bolted toward the only warmth and light he’d ever find in that voracious dark. Anti was still enraged behind him, but he wouldn’t look back. Every ounce of his being was put into that dead sprint back to his family.

One large black vein surged into his path and Chase vaulted over it without slowing. More tried to position themselves where his feet were headed, and he dodged every last one. It was a game of quick reflexes, and he’d once tried to make a career out of those. It hadn’t built him a life, but maybe it would save it.

Abe was holding back a sobbing Stacy, who was trying her best to meet Chase halfway. “C’mon, baby, please,” she begged as Chase ran and the window only grew smaller. Dark and Host were doing their best to close it, but even with Marvin giving them more time, it was still a strain. Blood was running from Marvin’s nose, and Chandler seemed to be the only thing holding him upright. Host was leaning heavy against Void, and his own outline had taken on a golden glow under the force and power of his narrations. They all watched that window shrink, and shrink, and realized with mounting fear that Chase wasn’t going to make it.

They could see the exhaustion in his movements as he sprinted closer, almost close enough to watch the wild hope flicker and dim behind his own eyes. Void looked down as two tiny fists beat against their leg, and Ellie’s tear-streaked face turned up at them.

      “PLEASE, PLEASE, GO GET HIM, PLEASE!!!”

Void’s black eyes slid shut, and they felt the Host’s head turn their way. They felt the hand that gripped the back of their leather coat, like that had ever been, or would ever be enough to stop them.

Chase’s legs quivered with every impact, blood roared in his ears, but still he ran. There was one way home, and he was going to reach it or die trying. The shrinking gap between worlds showed him Stacy’s sobbing face, and he knew he was failing her again. It was some small comfort to know it would be the last time he ever did. Before he could fill his aching lungs to say goodbye, red smoke enveloped his world.

Both Void and Chase vanished, and Dark seemed almost renewed in his efforts to close the veil. The gap shrank faster despite the Host’s bruising hand on his bicep, and they watched a billow of crimson smoke throw Chase onto the concrete with a grunt of pain. Void made it halfway through before the gap between worlds slammed shut.

The teleporter hit the ground with an erratic billow of red smoke. Their bottom half was just mist as the Host crashed to Void’s side, and tried to narrate his friend back together. Like their atoms weren’t drifting in another dimension. One of their hands caught in the lapels of his coat and the other lashed against a pain Chase couldn’t even imagine. He leaned back into Stacy, an arm wrapped around Connor and Ellie, and he felt Marvin’s icy hand clamp over his shoulder as they all watched the Host’s losing battle.

      “No, no, no, Void finds the strength, Void’s body reforms as it should, Void is unhindered by…” his voice cracked and faltered. The others weren’t looking, but the Host could see, off to the side in the shadows, he could see Dark smile.

      “… Imogen.”

The teleporter’s disjointed gaze wrenched up at that name, and the Host’s entire body shook with effort.

      “You… can’t do this… to me.”

Black eyes wrenched shut, and what might have been an attempt to curl closer into his jacket was lost as Imogen’s broken body collapsed into smoke and was gone.

For a moment, no one breathed. The veil was closed, Anti was locked away, and Void was dead. The Host’s bandaged gaze was locked on his empty hands as Dark’s shoes came to a slow halt beside him. The ringing pitch of his aura seemed almost pleased.

      “… It didn’t happen.”

Dark’s head tilted with confusion at the Host’s quiet words.

      “What did you say?”

      “It didn’t happen.”

There was a violent feeling in the air, like the atmosphere was both expanding and contracting. Chase winced through an instant headache, and recoiled with the others as Dark seized both of the Host’s shoulders and shook him hard.

      “You can’t do that!”

      “It didn’t. HAPPEN!”

A golden light blazed like an aura around the Host, and the world revolted.

Chase found himself flattened against the floor as they were all pitched sideways, like they were trapped on a boat destined to sink. The overhead lights stretched and shattered, sourceless wind surged across their fallen bodies, and the discordant ring of Dark felt like an icepick in their brains. Stacy had Ellie and Chase had dragged himself over his screaming son. He protected Connor the best he could with his own body, but the world began to tilt in the other direction. Only the Host was stationary through it all, rooted to the spot on his knees by his own power.

Red smoke gathered around his empty hands, just as a jagged seam of arcane light began to tear open.

      “HOST!” Dark bellowed over the maelstrom, to no avail. The narrator seemed frozen where he was, almost obscured by that golden light. The demon cursed and Marvin gasped as he was wrenched from the floor by an unseen force, and his neck was seized by Dark’s waiting hand.

      “HELP ME.”

A demand, snarled through bared teeth, as Marvin was released and Dark turned his efforts back toward the gap between worlds. The wizard managed to stay upright by sheer will alone, and he pulled the spectral thread from what felt like his own soul. It was all he had left to give.

Crimson condensed into a frigid hand over Marvin’s wrist, and his swimming vision couldn’t discern Void’s face. Smoke swallowed their body, and Marvin felt a flood of foreign energy consume his own.

      “Wait-!”

He wasn’t given the chance to protest before Void possessed him. He was still in control and more than strong enough to stand, but he could feel their antimatter in his veins, and his entire body began to heal, then crackle, then glitch.

       If I tried to infuse my body with antimatter, I’d end up just like him. WORSE than him.

Marvin’s own words flooded with fear back to the forefront of his mind, but he felt himself steady. Breathing was no longer a chore, and his body wasn’t itching to rip itself apart.

       Close it, Marvin.

Imogen’s voice, clear above the cacophony around him. They were keeping him in check, keeping him upright. He wouldn’t turn into Anti.

The magician’s eyes were black, and the spectral cat mask manifested over the top half of his face as the threads all but flew from his hand. They stitched over the growing wound with such efficiency and ease that Dark stepped back long enough to crack the kneeling Host in the back of the head with brutal strength. It did the job, the narrator dropped like he’d been shot, and the violence began to subside with the fading of that golden glow around him.  

The glyph was conjured, and Marvin all but threw it into the stitched seam between worlds. Like a thousand shards of glass, it shattered, raining specks of arcane energy down onto the concrete below.

Silence was deafening in the generator room. All they could do was stare at the empty space where the tear had been, and wait.

Nothing took its place.

A heavy sigh was pulled in and out of Chase’s battered lungs. He was stark white and sweating, and slow to heave himself off of Connor. Both kids, Stacy and Chandler were on him in a heartbeat, clinging, hugging, sobbing, and he was too tired and relieved to do much more than lean on them and gulp air. The tear of a teleport ripped through the air, and Marvin staggered beside Void, who joined Dark at the Host’s side. The narrator’s glow was gone, his bandages were sopping with blood, and he hardly seemed to breathe. Dark’s eyes were hard as iron as he seized both the Host’s shoulder and Imogen’s wrist, and the trio of cryptids were gone. The one hint of their absence was the blood the narrator had left behind.

Abe looked up with a wince, and watched the doorway back to Chase’s house flicker in Dark’s absence.

      “Ohhhkay, guys, we gotta move, train’s leaving, let’s go! On your feet, let’s go!” He dragged Chase and Chandler up by the collars, and Marvin helped support Chase as they all bolted back up the catwalk stairs and into the rental house miles away. Abe waved them all through before diving in himself, and the door flickered and vanished behind him, leaving just a dismal storage closet behind.

Chase sank to the floor again, unable to support himself a moment longer. After what Anti had put him through, and the mad sprint out of there, he had nothing left. Not a damn thing.

       Not the headless man. I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Stacy’s sobs were distant in his ears as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed. It was… it was over. It was finally over. They made it.

7PM

Chase was sound asleep on the couch, Ellie on his chest and Connor curled beside him, his arms draped over both. Stacy, Abe, Chandler and Marvin were sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on slices of pizza they hardly tasted. With the elation gone, the adults were left hungry, exhausted and numb.

      “I’ve checked six times.” Abe slipped his phone back into his pocket. “No reports on anything over here, or the dam. The missing person file is gone. Whatever you told the narrator to do, it worked.”

      “At least it’s Saturday,” Stacy shook her head with mild disbelief, eyes distant, “we get at least one whole day to decompress, and go back to work on Monday. Send the kids to school. Pretend like all of this didn’t fucking happen.”

      “It could have been worse. I wanted it so that you could all go back to your lives, instead of fucking jail.” Marvin dragged both hands down his face and sighed. “Now that he’s gone… I have no idea what to do. I spent… years. Hunting that man down.”

They all looked as Chase shifted in his sleep and relaxed once more. He really needed to eat something and shower, but his battered body needed sleep most of all.

      “He’s going to want you to stick around, Marvin,” Stacy glanced over at the wizard, who’s face took on a pinched look. “We’ll… figure something out. We’re not going to kick you out, you’ve got nowhere to go.”

      “She’s right. And she’s made up her mind,” Chandler gave Marv a look as he took a massive bite of pizza. “You’re not getting out of it.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Marvin’s mouth as he let his eyes slide to the floor. It was more than he deserved, far more than he deserved.

      “Let’s… get Chase better. Then we’ll talk.”

An easier silence than they’d had in a while fell over the group. It didn’t seem fair that the world had moved on, heedless of what was at stake and what they’d done, but at least they had a world to go back to.

The Brodys would see another day.

Jackson had gone back to its sluggish standby mode. Just enough power to keep it moving, and keep the river levels in check. Blood had dried and flaked beside the summoning circle that still stood on the concrete floor. The turbine churned like it had since the plant closed. The overhead lights were dimmed.

Above it all, in the back of the catwalk control room, a computer screen began to flicker. The faint static shifted from black and white to green.

Chapter Text

Silence had never felt so heavy for the two souls that sat vigil on either side of a cot, bound by the motionless form between them.

Dark was exhausted, but maintaining some semblance of composure, though Void could not be certain if that was for them or the Host should he finally stir. Void was trying to slump down in the seat, but their outline was shimmering an agitated red. One hand was tugging the hood of Brody’s coat as low as possible over the rim of their goggles.

      “… Can I turn off the lights?”

Eyes that bled both red and blue lifted with mild surprise at the request. Dark may have been inclined to lash out if the lights had been extinguished without warning, as Void had not been the source of his focus. Looking at them now, he debated.

      “We need some form of light if he wakes, or he will panic. Would a candle set behind you be less severe?”

      “Better than this.”

The sentries parted ways. Void made their disjointed way toward the light switches and waited while Dark searched for a candle. The closest thing he found in the warehouse was a glowstick, which he cracked and set on the nearby table. A click of the industrial lights bathed the room in darkness and a soft, eerie green. He watched as pale hands tugged off the massive aviator goggles with a faint sigh of relief. Even without the mirrored eyewear, it was difficult to tell where Void’s gaze landed. There were no irises, no whites, just an empty voracious black.

The pair had spent two days under those lights, waiting for the Host to wake up. Hoping he woke up.

That thought earned a snarl of rage and a flash of red through Dark’s aura, and Void glitched to a halt by his chair. The demon turned away, unwilling to show more of his mental state than he already had, despite the ring in the air that betrayed him. A spectral red hand raised a fist and vanished while a blue one grabbed Void’s arm in equal parts defensiveness and need. The younger anomaly was a tentative ally by necessity, but not his friend, not like the Host. Yet, even after his attempt to seal the wraith away, the two of them remained. Wanting even a ghost of the reassuring presence the injured man would have brought, imagined through someone else.

The blue hand of his aura reluctantly fell, as did Dark’s shoulders, but his voice was nothing short of scathing.

      “WHY is this so DIFFICULT!?”

They both stared at the Host’s bandaged silhouette, breathing shallow in sleep.

      “… He taught us we don’t have to be alone. But not how to live without him.”

Dark’s eyes slid shut as Void attempted to settle back into their seat. Their solidity had deteriorated with the Host’s condition, as had Dark’s control over the broken souls that comprised him. The worst aspects of Celine and Damien had been forced into that broken body, fused by her magic and the demonic entity that inhabited the mansion where they’d all gathered a lifetime ago. Damien’s influence may have been softer than Celine’s, but only the Host knew the difference between red and blue – that the two halves of his aura had once been separate, living people. On a good day, there was a faint outline that surrounded his entire body and followed his every move. Right then, listening to the narrator struggle to breathe, the colors were separating to the point of taking on actions of their own. The red was glimpsed trying to rip the arm off the chair, the blue’s hand fisted into its own shirt as it screamed in anger. Their voices were faint in the darkness of the infirmary, but still heard.

      “Get a hold of your aura. It’s getting worse.”

Three separate flares of anger greeted that blatant statement of weakness, and the room grew darker still as it filled with a high-pitched ring.

      “You sit there, barely tangible, and you criticize my sense of control!?”

Those black eyes turned then. For once, he both saw and felt their gaze boring into his own.

      “Putting myself back together is my entire existence. If you separate while the Host is injured, I’ll be the one who has to fix you.”

The ringing was all that filled the heavy silence, but red and blue settled closer to Dark’s body as the suit jacket was tugged straight once more.

      “How would you even try. I’m comprised of demonic energy, you’re just a… ah-”

      “Byproduct.”

He didn’t flinch, but he could taste the venom. It was the glitch’s insult for Void, but it was the first term that came to mind, and Dark would pay for it.

      “And you’re right. I don’t have a lot of experience with demons who wear corpses like suits. Still. From one byproduct to another, I think I’d have a shot.”

      “ENOUGH. I won’t have you twist my words.”

Void’s smirk didn’t reach their black eyes, but how could one truly know if it did?

      “Turning your favorite hobby against you. It’s not fair, is it?”

Logically, he knew. He knew his ally had no idea what that phrase meant to him. That voice of reason was drowned by the piercing ring of his aura, and Void’s chair was suddenly thrown back against the wall so hard it shattered. The entity had vanished in a plume of red the moment it shifted, and though they solidified in front of dark, the hand that moved to seize them by the throat clenched nothing at all. Any part of Void he tried to grab with his hands or aura met scarlet smoke between his fingers.

      “…We both know you’ll pass out before you manage to hit me.”

The demon’s chest heaved, but even his ghosts melded back into his broken body as that neck turned with a sickening crack. He was loath to admit it, but they were right.

      “… Were you trying to counter me, or are you simply that far gone?”

      “More of the second. But you’re slower than usual.”

The growl that rumbled in the demon’s chest as he turned away would have sent anyone else running. Anyone but the wraith and the Host.

      And William. Wilford. Wherever he is, whatever he might be.

Dark wondered if the enigma that was once the colonel could have had the Host on his feet by now. Wilford was more than capable of warping reality to suit his needs, but he lived his life on impulse alone. Threatening him to take action would yield no result, but if he happened to want the Host’s opinion on a new pair of suspenders, the narrator would find himself healed and lucid enough to give it. There was no such luck now. The Host’s only support was the two corrupt entities who had no idea how to heal him.

What if their places had been reversed? The Host would undoubtedly be seated where he was now, however…

      “… If it were me lying on that cot, and not him… would you still be here?”

Void’s glitching and shimmering dimmed a shade, and some of the red haze that surrounded their chair dispersed. It did nothing to quell the unnatural layering of their voice.

      “I love that you ask after trying to strangle me.”

      “You wanted a reaction, and you got it. The question stands.”

Silence fell while they contemplated, and black eyes settled again on the injured man.

      “… I’d be here for the same reason you’d be here if it was me. Because it would hurt him. He’d turn this world inside out to save you.”

      “Like he did for you?”

Void’s gaze cut away from his own, and there was no answer. Dark couldn’t deny the Host was… warmer. Lighter now than before he met the teleporter. He let himself be softer. It had made Dark fear he would no longer be needed, that he would be replaced, but the Host did not care for his fears.

       Damien… led the Host to believe he was the only being in the universe who would have him… You’re not.

His first true act of defiance had been on Void’s behalf. Dark had been less than pleased, and he would die before he admitted it was something of a relief to hear that fire again. The one that burned when they first met, and the world was at the mercy of the Host’s uncontrolled power.

      “…What of the Brody family? Will you ever return to them?”

      “I don’t know. I’m a living reminder of the worst days of their lives.”

      “You died for Chase.”

      “I died for your power struggle.” Void’s flat gaze found Dark’s again, but he met it with cool defiance. “I feel everything around me. Don’t think I didn’t notice the gap sealed faster after I went in. He’s on that cot right now because of you. The glitch might still be in this world thanks to YOU. He was contained, but you killed me instead. You fucking infant.”

The ring of Dark’s aura seemed to bounce off the metal walls of the warehouse, but the two halves of himself were tight to his body. It was a conversation he feared when the Host returned to them, for there was no possible way the narrator was not aware. A moment of silence was broken by the straightening of his blazer.

      “And yet, here you are.”

      “Here I am. Because now we know he would tear himself apart to fix it.”

Both gazes were wrenched toward a soft sigh from the cot, but the Host did not wake. He was still with them, but neither would know the damage done until he was fit to narrate it himself. Dark’s hand waved the slightest bit, and the Host’s blanket shifted higher over his shoulders.

      “… So you are certain the glitch escaped.”

      “Wouldn’t you have tried? If the doorway opened again?”

Of course he would. There was no question. Just a quiet worry that the vendetta wasn’t over, and Anti would come for the Host again. Not today, not tomorrow, but when he felt the time was right.

      “When I am less apprehensive about moving him… I know of a place we can go. It’s a large, empty estate. It should reside in this universe like it does my own, it’s another doorway of sorts.”

      “A haunted mansion?”

      “It’s not haunted.” The faintest of smiles ghosted over the demon’s face, and the ring of his aura eased in pitch. “Not anymore.”

Chase’s hands shook as they cut the engine in front of the familiar office building on the outskirts of the community college. It was barely 48 hours since he’d run for his fucking life in the void, and just 12 since Marvin had teleported him, Stacy and Chandler back to the cabin to get their cars. His brother let them take as much of the infinite food and household shit as they wanted once he realized that little trick still worked. Chase and Stacy were wondering if the gas for the 4-hour round trip might be worth it for free groceries every month or so.

Between the drive, the sprint, and being Anti’s life support, Chase moved like his body was one giant bruise. The anxiety was enough to keep him going – the notion that he really could walk through the door to his workplace like nothing had happened. It was an anxiety they all faced. Stacy had to go back to work, the kids had to go back to school. They’d been sent off with about a thousand hugs and the best lunches they could cobble and the promise that they would all be home for dinner. They’d have family night, and play video games and watch a movie if Connor and Ellie could hold it together for school.

For the first time in two years, both Chase and Stacy had waited in the driveway with their kids until the bus lumbered to a stop. The doors hissed open, and they put on the biggest smiles they could as Connor and Ellie climbed inside, and then waved through the dirty square window as it rolled away. He knew the kids wouldn’t try to tell their friends what happened, but it was still a monumental thing to ask of a traumatized five and seven year old. To pretend everything was okay.

They didn’t know what else they could do.

A controlled exhale was pushed from his lungs to tug him back to the present, and Chase tapped his keycard to the door lock. It beeped in confirmation, and his protesting muscles made their way inside. Familiar faces milled around him, but instead of stares and confusion, it was just nods and the vague ‘morning’ for a greeting. Chase limped his way to his desk, and it hadn’t even gathered dust from the weeks he’d been gone.

      “Brody, how’s it going? Oh fuck, dude-” Chase watched Deshaun take in his haggard form, and the dark circles under his eyes. “What’d you do over the weekend?”

      “Um…” Chase lowered into his cheap desk chair with a wince. “… yardwork.”

      “Yardwork,” Deshaun repeated, his tone skeptical, but Chase raised his hands with feigned exasperation. “Yeah, okay, you caught me. I do suburban dad shit sometimes. Happens to the best of us.”

His coworker laughed at that and shook his head. “Must have been one hell of a project.”

      “Yeah, um. We’re getting it ready for a trampoline and a firepit. Stace and I are trying to get the kids outside more.”

Damn, he might have to actually bring that up to Stacy, that did sound like a good time. They could make s’mores, and he’d be on the trampoline just as much as Connor and Ellie. Either way, that seemed to appease Deshaun, who made a bit more small talk before he wandered back to his desk. Chase had to sit in stunned silence for a long moment, because it had worked. It was like he’d never left. How strange that the stupid office felt more like a fever dream now than pacing Chandler’s cabin full of toilet paper and peanut butter under a magic fucking dome. Chase shook his head and limped his way to the break room for some mediocre free coffee so he could get his head on straight and start his day. His normal fucking day.

The kids beat him home. He drove not to his shitty rental, but Stacy’s house. She’d all but ordered him to move back in for a while, and he was going to try his little tryhard heart out to make it longer than a while. Chase never wanted to be separated from his family again, and if that required some heavy internal work, so be it. The car door slammed shut, and he looked up to see two faces in the living room window before they vanished toward the front door. There was no keeping the smile off his tired face as he pulled it open and braced for Connor and Ellie.

      “Dad, dad, it was CRAZY, I KNEW what was on the TEST it was in my BRAIN-”

      “I beat Jess’ca in a SWING contest I NEVER BEAT HER!”

They babbled about their day, both marveled in their own young way at being allowed to go back to normal. Chase was eternally grateful for the Host, and would never be able to repay him for that. Once the kids were talked out, he gave them one good squeeze and let go before crossing the kitchen to hug Stacy from behind. She leaned back into it and let her meal prep falter to a stop for a selfish moment.

      “Save me some work, I want to help with dinner. Just give me a minute.”

      “It’s taco night, there’s plenty to do.”

      “Oh hell yes. Trauma tacos.”

Her face scrunched with a silent laugh at her husband’s unfiltered mouth and elbowed him off. Chase grinned and recoiled before grabbing his shoes and heading for the back door. A rush of air hit him, though he couldn’t call it fresh so close to the city. He could envision the trampoline and the firepit in their empty canvas of a backyard, with its smattering of toys here and there, and not much else. He wanted the normalcy of a night outside with the whole family, he didn’t care if he spent smores-making in a cast because he got too zealous on the trampoline. They had a second chance at life, he wanted to make the most of it.

Instead of drawing plans, he crossed the overgrown lawn he’d mow tomorrow, and strode up to the tiny shed that stood vigil in the corner. He knocked, three short knocks and three long, and opened the door to find a warmly lit library that stretched far beyond the confines of the cheap shed.

Chase let himself in and slid the door shut behind him before kicking off his shoes. A curious mewing greeted him, punctuated with every footfall of the spectral green cat’s excited trot toward him.

      “Hey, buddy.” Chase reached down and scooped the cat familiar up, and was rewarded with a motorboat of purring as he scratched its neck and ventured further inside. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and spacious windows showed a pebbled and sandy beach before a flat expanse of gray water that reflected the overcast sky. Chase wasn’t sure where that lake or ocean was, or if it was even real. A fireplace with lazy embers glowed against the far wall, and an open door revealed a workshop of sorts. All manner of ingredients and instruments Chase couldn’t guess at, but no one was there to use them.

      “Marv? You awake?”

      “Upstairs.”

Chase’s gaze lifted to the spiral staircase, and he climbed up with the cat wrapped around his neck. He found more bookshelves still, and the wizard himself curled on what looked like the comfiest leather couch he’d ever seen.

      “Why didn’t we see this place sooner? We could’ve been living here instead of Chandler’s cabin.”

Marvin huffed and sat up straighter with a wince – he looked about as good as Chase felt. “Because this place was still a work in progress, and it took all my spells to preserve the dome. Trust me when I say I wouldn’t have been much help if this tower was compromised.”

      “It’s a tower!? Bro. You gotta show me all of it.”

      “I’m still building it,” Marvin snapped, and his hands reached out on instinct to catch the cat familiar as it leapt from Chase’s shoulders. “I’ll give a tour when it’s done. My whole life is in here, give me a chance to sort it first.”

That seemed fair, but it didn’t stop the vlogger from leaning over the railing and looking straight up. It did look like more floors were up there, stacked on top of each other, and he had to take a second to marvel at the fact that he, Chase Brody, was standing inside a real fucking wizard tower. Even if it was still under construction.

      “This is amazing, Marv. Can’t wait til it’s done. Listen, I’m sure you can like. Think real hard in here and make food happen, but it’s taco night if you wanna come to dinner. Stacy makes good fucking tacos.” That earned a snort from Marvin, and the cat jumped down to trot away.

      “Yeah, sure, that sounds nice. What time?”

      “About half an hour-ish, maybe? I gotta go help Stace with it. I’ll be in the house, catch you then.”

Marvin watched Chase retreated down the stairs and through the sliding door of the shed. It was still a shed if he didn’t knock, the lawnmower and other yard supplies were still in there. He was grateful there had been a usable door outside, it would have felt like too much of an intrusion to be connected to the interior of their own house.

A foreign sensation crackled through Marvin’s skin, shattering the moment as dread stole his complexion. He let the front he’d held for Chase’s benefit drop as he all but launched into the nearest bathroom. The giant mirror that hung over the vanity painted a grim picture of the Irishman that braced both hands against the sink. Marvin was pallid, the circles under his eyes were deep, and his face was lined with stress. That crackle came again, and he watched his entire body every so faintly glitch.

The vanity groaned with the tightening of his grip as Marvin’s eyes slid shut and his teeth bared. It wasn’t Anti, he knew in his bones it wasn’t Anti. The leftover antimatter in his veins was from Void, and their last-ditch effort to help him seal the barrier. His wounds had healed, and he’d been given the arcane strength to get the job done, but it had left an echo he couldn’t purge.

       I’d end up just like him. WORSE than him.

A shuddering breath was sucked in and let go. He’d find a way to get rid of it. He was not going to become the very thing he’d hunted. Marvin hadn’t been subjected to the same levels as Anti, it couldn’t be as severe. For fuck’s sake, he’d possessed Chase twice and the vlogger was the same as he ever was. Although, Marvin put incredible stock into Chase’s resilience. He thought he was the weakest of their alternates, but Marvin disagreed. He’d been through depression, alcoholism, attempted suicide, possession, attempted murder, possible arrest, punctures through reality, the fucking void, and invited him to taco night. Chase was one of the strongest people Marvin had ever met.

With that in mind, He had to hold his own shit together. He would not become Anti with the power of magic. There was a time when he thought himself capable of controlling that much power, and Emmerich had paid for that hubris with his life.

      “I won’t let you down again,” Marvin whispered to no one, even as his body glitched a second time. “I can’t.”

6PM

A van stood sentry down the street from the Brody house, and its tinted windows stood at odds with the utility company logo splashed across the side. Inside the driver and passenger seats were a man and woman in lab coats, one with binoculars trained on the front window, the other typing everything she spoke.

      “Subject Chase Brody seems to be recovering alongside his family. No sign of ALTR114209, but… there is another alter present. Requesting board approval to move in.”

      “They’ll never approve it,” the man responded as he transcribed her words. “We don’t know who this alter is, or what he’s capable of.”

      “I don’t care.” The woman focused the binoculars on the twins at the kitchen table. “The entire mirror team was slaughtered. Several unauthorized doorways to the mirror have been opened without our notice. I want these subjects contained.”

      “We’ll keep them on surveillance for now. Once we get the WTCHR program released, we won’t even need warm bodies to do it.”

The woman let the binoculars lower with a frustrated exhale, and put them neatly back into her case. The man knew she’d never admit he was right, and that their only course of action for the foreseeable future was to wait.

      “114209 is dangerous, Lena. We’re no closer now than we have been for the past three years. We need the advantage of WTCHR.”

Lena didn’t answer, she just watched the distant figures with her naked eye until the computer chimed with a response.

      “The board said no. Until IRIS is more certain of its ability to contain these individuals, we are under orders for surveillance only. They’re… oof, they’re not happy we’ve lost visual on ALTR913157.”

      “913157 was a failed prototype,” Lena dismissed, making notes of her own in a small journal. “If we can contain 114209, we can certainly contain 913157. Once we unveil WTCHR, it will be far more difficult for these entities to hide.”

The man shook his head, and snapped the laptop shut before stuffing it back into its case. “I’m still not sure we’re going to get the public to buy into something that reads emotions.”

      “Please. They’ve spent millions to let a corporation listen to their every word and know every aspect of their life. They’re already under constant surveillance by choice. It won’t be a hard sell.”

Her companion didn’t argue. Lena watched the distant family gather on the couch before Stacy pulled the curtains shut on the front window. If they had WTCHR, something as mundane as curtains would never be an issue.

      “We’ll get them, Lena. We just have to be patient. They’ll be away from the public, and you can continue your work.”

For the first time, a faint smile stretched across the scientist’s face.

       Yes, I can.

       There’s so much work to do.