Part Seven of The Stitched AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a completed fanfic series of mine with 24 total chapters. I started this October of 2018 and finished it May of 2021. After trying to find something to stop Anti, Jack and JJ instead run into him...and Jack makes a desperate gamble to protect his friends.]
.............................................................................................

“But thank you guys so much for watching, if you liked this video, punch that like button in the face, like a boss! And! High fives all around. Wh-pssh! Wh-pssh! But thank you and I’ll see all you dudes…IN THE NEXT VIDEO!” The moment he was done with the outro, Jack dropped his smile, slumping deeper in the chair. Not for the first time, he considered taking a break from YouTube. The stress of making videos every day, on top of everything else—and he was recording videos for Chase’s channel, too, just to make sure nobody started getting suspicious about where he’d gone. If someone called the police on his missing nature, he doubted they’d be able to do anything, and it would be better if no one else got mixed up in this.

Jack turned off the camera, and then the computer. He swiveled his chair around and stood up, stretching. His work for the day still wasn’t done. He left his recording room and came out into the hall. This was a fairly big apartment, but it was still an apartment. There was a tiny room he’d chosen to record in, a bathroom, a living room, a small dining/kitchen combo, and two bedrooms. Everything was packed close together. It only took about five steps to get from the recording room door to the guest bedroom door. As Jack opened the door, he thought that it wasn’t quite a “guest” room anymore if the person staying inside couldn’t really leave.

There had been no change in Schneep’s condition in the two months since…well, they didn’t know exactly what happened. It wasn’t like Schneep could tell them. They’d tried everything to get some sort of reaction, anything, from him, but their efforts were in vain. It was like he was in a coma. One where your eyes were open and dripped static tears all the time.

Jack ran through the motions of checking on him. There’d been no change from yesterday. He was still lying on the bed in the exact same position. Jack had told the hospital that Schneep was on vacation, de-stressing indefinitely. He’d also used Schneep’s ID to get in and, well quite frankly, steal some medical supplies. There was an IV and a heart monitor, steadily beeping just like it had been doing for weeks now. Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he could be doing, but…god, he didn’t know. He didn’t know any sort of medical shit. He didn’t know anything about magic or the occult or whatever the fuck this was. Why couldn’t he actually do something?

“Schneep,” he sighed. “I wish…I wish a lot of things. But I wish you hadn’t gone after him alone. I wish we were all together here now. All of us.” He patted his shoulder. Maybe he could hear and feel him, somewhere in there. “Wake up soon. Please.” Then he turned and walked away, looking back one more time before turning off the lights and closing the door.

He left the room and started to turn down the hall, immediately running into JJ. He startled, backing up a couple steps. “Jesus, dude, you startled me. Didn’t hear your footsteps or anything. Did you want something?”

JJ was clutching a piece of paper tight to his chest. He was bouncing on his feet nervously, adjusting his mask with one hand. Quickly, as if he was trying not to talk himself out of it, he shoved the piece of paper toward Jack, then retreated a few steps down the hall.

Jack blinked, confused for a second before looking at the sheet of paper. There was cursive writing on it, which Jack recognized as JJ’s handwriting. He read the words: 'Jack, I have been doing some thinking during these last few weeks, and I have decided that there is more I can do. I’ve been avoiding going home, simply because I have been scared of what happened there. But I can’t let that stop me from helping you any longer. I can’t stand by and watch my friends get picked off. So, if you will agree to accompany me, I would like to go back to my home. There are some heavier magick spells and magic books in the apartment above my shop that could be of use. I hadn’t thought the situation serious enough to consult them before, but now it’s clear that we are running out of options. Despite the risk, retrieving them could possibly shed some light on this horrid situation.'

He looked back up at JJ. “You’re sure?” He asked. “I know how much it freaks you out to even think about going back there.”

JJ nodded once. He folded his arms. It was clear to Jack that he was still scared: his hands were shaking and he was avoiding looking directly at anything. But he was trying. He must’ve really thought this was worth it. “Alright, if you’re positive. I’ll get my jacket, it’s s’posed to be chilly today. Then we’ll walk down to the shop.”

It was indeed a cloudy and chill afternoon. It took Jack and JJ about forty-five minutes to get from Jack’s apartment building to the shop, walking swiftly, driven by nerves. Jack didn’t actually think they’d find anything there, but the lingering feeling of what-if made him wish he knew how to shoot a gun, like Chase.

When they finally reached the shop, the sight of the dark, dusty windows sent chills down their spines. It had been nearly seven months since either of them had set foot in there, and it looked abandoned. JJ fished about in his vest pocket before finding the keys. It took him a minute to unlock the door, as he kept shaking. The door creaked when it finally swung open, accompanied by the ringing of the bell that was supposed to announce customers. The inside of the shop was just as dark and dusty as the windows. Stacks of cobwebbed knickknacks cast eerie shadows on the walls.

“Oh god. This is fucking freaky,” Jack muttered. “Let’s hurry.” JJ nodded in agreement, and the two of them practically sprinted across the main body of the shop to the locked door that would lead upstairs. JJ once again took out his keys and unlocked the door, revealing a narrow staircase leading up. He gave Jack a worried look. “It-it’s okay,” Jack assured him. “We’re doing good so far. I’ll go up first.” The two of them vanished up the stairs. Once they were gone, the door closed behind them.

There was another door at the top, but this one didn’t have a lock. It swung open, and JJ’s hand immediately darted to the side, flicking the light switch on. The apartment matched the shop downstairs in decor, which was to say it looked like it belonged in a different time period. The 1920′s perhaps. The two of them had entered into a living-room sort of area, with a sofa and two chairs covered in dust. The curtains were drawn, so without the yellow light of the lamp dangling overhead, the room would have been completely dark.

“I don’t…see anything.” Jack’s eyes darted about, but it just seemed like a normal apartment, albeit a bit old-fashioned. “So, where are the things you need? On the bookshelves in here?”

JJ shook his head. He made a few signs—he was getting better at them, enough so that Jack could figure out he was saying something along the lines of 'There’s a room down the hall.'

“Well, then we should go look there, shouldn’t we?” Jack gave the living room one more look-over, then followed JJ down a hall to the left. There were three doors, two to the right and one to the left. That was the one JJ opened, darting inside the room. Jack was right behind him.

It was a storage room. Every wall had shelves full of items nailed to it, there were piles of books and boxes and chests stacked on the floor. Everything was labeled, organized meticulously. “Wow,” Jack breathed. “When you said you had a collection of magick items, this is more than I was expecting. What are we looking for?”

JJ promptly walked to the far end of the room, stopping next to a book pile, waving at them in a way that indicated that was what they were looking for. Jack nodded, joining him. He tilted his head to the side, reading the titles on the spines. Half of them he couldn’t pronounce, and of the half remaining he could only guess at what the titles meant. There was a label on top of the pile, a piece of paper folded over with the words Strange Entities, Spells, and Phenomena: Research/Info (Magic) written on it. “Okay,” he said slowly. “There’s no way we can carry all these back to my apartment, so you’re gonna have to help me choose which ones to prioritize. Each of us can hold…uh, three or four, maybe five if we choose thinner ones? Let’s get started.”

A few minutes passed, wherein JJ and Jack sorted through the pile. Usually this involved Jack holding up a book for JJ to look at, and then he’d either shake his head, or take the book and thumb through the pages, then either put it aside or nod to say they should take it. After a while of this, they narrowed it down to eight books that were important enough to take back. “Do you think we should take any of this stuff?” Jack indicated the objects on the shelves. JJ considered for a moment, then shook his head. He signed something that about meant 'Not enough room, not worth it.'

“Alright, then.” Jack grabbed four of the books. “Let’s go.” The two of them left the room, emerging into the hallway again.

The lights died.

Jack stopped dead in his tracks. He looked behind him to see JJ had done the same, his eyes wide. Jack wanted to say it was nothing, but they both knew better than that. “Just…be ready,” Jack whispered. JJ nodded shakily. Jack turned back around and crept down the hall. It felt like his eyes were going to burst out of their sockets, he was looking so hard, waiting for something to happen.

They reentered the living room. But it was different. There were things hanging from the ceiling, dangling from lengths of green thread. Jack looked closer and saw they were thin, silvery, bloodstained needles.

There was a muffled yelp, then a series of thumps behind him. Jack spun around and saw Jameson had fallen to the floor, dropping the books he’d been carrying, bracing himself against the nearest wall. His eyes were fixed on the needles overhead. “James? No no no, it’s okay, it’s fine!” Jack dropped his books in turn, rushing to Jameson’s side. “They can’t—they’re just—they’re not going to hurt you!”

A laugh echoed around the room, causing the needles to sway. “You don’t k̷n̸͠ow ̕͝t̸ḩ͟a͝t̵̶, Jackaboy.”

Jack’s shoulders raised at the mere sound of the voice. He resisted the urged to rub his throat, instead turning and looking back to the room. “Where are you?”

“Neither h̴e͢r͞ę̢͞ nor t͠h͏e͢͟͞r̸ę͝.” The voice was coming from everywhere at once, but it was also coming from nowhere at all. “But there’s s̷o͢m̢e̡on̷͡e̡͠ who’s been…h͏̧o̸pi̸͠n͞g͢͠ to see you two.”

Everything turned red for a moment. And when it cleared, there was Chase, sitting on one of the chairs, staring at them through the static film over his eyes. Jack inhaled sharply. He hadn’t seen him in person in months. And Jameson hadn’t seen him at all. Jack looked over to see him touching the spot where his mouth was under the mask, his eyes fixed on the stitching around Chase’s neck.

“Chase…” Jack said softly. “Are you…there?”

“I̧'m͡ ̛h̡ere͝.”

“That—that’s not what I meant.” Jack stood up, slowly. Chase mimicked his movements almost perfectly. “Do you remember? Please tell me you remember me, and Doc, and JJ.”

“I͏ remember̨ y͝ou͢. But w̕h̷y̶ ̷do̧ ̴you ma̢tter?̵” Chase held his hand out to the side, like he was waiting for someone to give him something. And suddenly there was a knife in his hand, formed out of thin air.

Jack felt his heart freeze in his chest. “Chase.” He raised his hands. “Please, don’t do anything stupid. Look, we’re not dangerous. You don’t have to do this.”

“H͟e͝ ̸toļd̨ m͠e t̶o.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you have to do it!” Jack said, not bothering to mask the desperate note in his voice. “Chase, just…try and think for yourself. Do you really think it’s a good idea to—to do whatever it is he told you to do? You’re going to end up hurting someone. You’re gonna hurt someone who hasn’t done anything! I know you think that’s an evil thing to do. You shouldn’t do whatever he says, because he’ll tell you to do awful things. Please, Chase, do you really want to do this?”

For a moment, the static in his eyes seemed to clear a little. The hand holding the knife lowered a bit. Jack let himself hope. And then—

“Y̡es.”

The knife sailed through the air. Jack instinctively ducked away from it, but he hadn’t been the target. There was a wet thump, then what sounded like someone screaming with their mouth closed. Jack whirled around. Jameson was still sitting against the wall on the floor, but now his hands were wrapped around the blade that had lodged in his stomach. He looked at Jack, and there were tears in his eyes.

Something broke inside Jack’s heart. He spun back around, facing Chase again. “Is this really it?!” he shouted to the room at large. “You’re gonna send someone else to do your dirty work for you?”

“Well, w̶h͏y̷ s͏̕ḩ̕͞ơuld̴n'ţ͟ Į?̨” The voice returned, bouncing from corner to corner, breaking and distorting. “If I have a p̛͠͠up̡̛p̷̢e͏t̡̢, might as well u͟se̵ ͞h̸̨i̵m̵͏.”

“Why is it him, though?” Jack demanded. “Why is it him, Anti?”

There was a slight pause. Then, Anti hissed, “He was the eąs̷̸ie̛s̷̢t̡͏ ͟͠one̷̕ to turn.”

Jack stared at Chase. He hadn’t moved since throwing the knife, his expression perfectly blank. Jack hated it. He would give anything for him to stop looking that way…he would give everything for his friends to be back to normal. He took a deep, steadying breath. “Anti, do you know what’s even better than a puppet you had to turn?” He hesitated for a split second, then made his decision. “One that’s willingly joined you.”

Absolute silence. Jack didn’t look away from Chase. That is, until he heard some scrambling sounds behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see that Jameson had moved a couple feet toward him. One hand was still on the knife, still stuck in his torso, the other was reaching toward Jack. Jameson looked him in the eyes and shook his head. There were a few muffled sounds coming from underneath the mask, and Jack could guess that Jameson was doing his best to plead with him through the stitching. “It’ll be okay, JJ,” Jack said soothingly. “I—I know what I’m doing. Just make sure you don’t bleed to death or anything.”

“It will be b͢e̶̕t͡t̢̕e͠r̸̨ than okay.” Jack’s head whipped back around. He was here now. Or maybe he wasn’t quite here. His edges seemed…fuzzy, and patches of red, blue, and green were falling off his body in droves. He was grinning madly. “What are you ơ̢f̵f͏e͞ri͡n̛g̷ m̡͟e, Jackaboy?” Anti asked, stepping closer.

Jack fought the urge to take a few steps back. “I…I’ll take his place,” he said quietly. “I’ll take all their places. I’ll join you, I’ll let you do whatever the hell you want to me, but only if you let them all go.”

“How do I know you’re not l̵̸̡y̵͟i̶͢n͠͏̴g̷͟? How do I know you won’t tr̢͏y͞ ̴̨t͞͠o̴͢ ̶ru̡n̵̡ at the f̸̕ir͟şt̶͟͠ opp̡o̷r̡͢t̡͏͏un͢͞i͏t͡͡y͠͡?̷̧͠”

“I won’t! I…I swear it!” Jack swallowed. “On my life. On their lives.”

Anti stared at him blankly, his eyes flickering between blue and green, the open throat gushing blood through the string straining to keep it closed. Then his grin widened. “Alrig̶hţ,” he said, voice crackling. He disappeared, then was suddenly right in front of Jack. “A ͡͠d̷ea͢͡l̕'s͏͟ ͡͏̴a ͝ḑe̷̵a͟ļ̵.” Before Jack could argue or demand more, Anti grabbed him by the shoulders. A wave of neon, glitching distortion spread from his hands, enveloping Jack’s body in seconds. When the glitches faded away, Jack was gone.

Jameson cried out, the sound turned into a mumble. No, no, no Jack didn’t—he couldn’t have—that was so stupidly heroic, didn’t he know it wouldn’t work? That he’d just give himself up for nothing?

Anti turned his attention to him. He smiled triumphantly. “Ḩ͞a͠v̡̕͟e͏ ̢f̧ưn̷̛.” He pointed to the ceiling, then wiggled his fingers in a cheery wave before he and Chase disappeared.

Jameson looked up. The needles were still hanging from the ceiling, but they were jittering, moving. The threads holding them were flickering in and out of existence—

He barely had time to curl into a ball, flinging his arms over the back of his head and neck before the threads vanished altogether, sending the needles crashing to the floor in a wave of silvery death. He cried out again as he felt the sharp jabs, the thin piercing pains, all over his arms and back. The gently metallic sound of needles hitting the hardwood floor was all he could hear. And then, as quickly as it started, it was done.

He stayed in that position for a while longer. Not just because moving caused the needles to jingle and the knife still inside him to stab deeper, but because he was scared. Was he alone? Or was Anti still there? Eventually, he found his courage, slowly lowering his arms and raising his head. The apartment looked empty. And it felt empty…too empty.

Jameson really was alone.
.............................................................................................

Hours later, he’d managed to make it back to Jack’s apartment. Thank god Jack had given him a key, otherwise he’d be forced to find other accommodations, since there was no way in hell he was staying back at the shop. He’d managed to get most of the needles out back there, but he’d kept the knife in until he had access to the medical supplies Jack kept in the bathroom. He didn’t want to bleed out. Once back at the apartment he’d double-checked for needles, pulling out the last of them. Most of his backside and his arms were covered in tiny holes that thankfully hadn’t bled much, but still required bandaging. He’d also finally treated the massive stab wound, though pulling out the knife hurt almost as much as it being buried in there in the first place.

After he’d managed to do that, he checked on Schneep. Just as he suspected, he was in the same condition as before. Anti had lied. He hadn’t let the others go, he’d just taken Jack. No doubt he was laughing at him for believing he’d ever relinquish an inch of control.

And Jameson was angry. No, he was furious. At Anti. He was still terrified of him, of course, but now it was mixed with a rage he’d never felt before. Anti thought he cheat and manipulate and hurt without consequences. He thought he could take his friends from him and get away with it. Well, he was wrong.

Jameson had the presence of mind to grab four of the books he and Jack had originally set out looking for before leaving the shop. Now, he sat at Jack’s kitchen table with one of them open before him, carefully reading the pages and trying to push through the pain in his abdomen that would shoot agony up his chest whenever he moved. There had to be something, anything, in here. A tiny hint as to what, exactly, Anti was, the mere mention of a way to defeat a thing like him. The windows grew dark, and still he read, still he studied.

There was nothing in the first book. Nothing he could use. Sure, maybe he saw some spells that could help, but he was magickal, not magical. Magick just needed certain charged items, specific rituals to follow to make something happen. Anyone could use magick. But spells, enchantments, curses, jinxes…for those you needed a certain amount of pure talent, a bit of magic in your soul that you had to be born with. And if you weren’t born with it? Sucks to be you.

Jameson slammed the book shut, then slammed his forehead onto the kitchen table. He still had three books to go, but he had a feeling they were all like this. Plenty of useful and interesting information, but nothing to shed light on his current predicament. Many powerful spells and hexes, but nothing he could actually use.

Why had he ever thought this would be a good idea? Why had he ever believed he would actually be able to do anything? Why did he think ever he was useful?

He raised his head. Those…weren’t his thoughts. Actually, they were, but…they were the same sort of things Anti had said to him so many months ago. The things that this demon, or whatever he was, wanted him to think. And thoughts like this had been plaguing him ever since then. He was thinking of himself the way Anti thought of him.

Jameson sat up straight, placing his hands palm-down on the table. These thoughts…they just wouldn’t do. If he let himself think this way, how was he better than Anti? He certainly wasn’t helping anyone. He was just letting Anti win. And that was not something he could do. Anti could not get to him. And if Anti thought he was weak and useless and all those other things, then he’ll have to prove him wrong.

He closed his eyes. He wasn’t worthless. His friends needed him, now more than ever. And he wouldn’t let Anti get between him and saving them. It could not happen. He would save them. He would save them. He would save them he would save them he would save them—

Something snapped.

That was the best way to describe it. It wasn’t a bad sort of snap, like a heartstring breaking. It was like the snap of chains breaking free. His eyes flew open, and his world was glowing blue.

He looked down at his hands on the table. The light blue glow was coming from them. Or, more accurately, the rings that had appeared around them. They were flat, concentric circles that reminded him a bit of that hero movie Chase had made him watch one day. Between the rings of each circle were…runes. The language of magic and magick. Or at least, one of the languages, there were multiple runic alphabets one could use. These runes were dancing, running around the circles. He recognized a few of them: save, protect, guard, friendship, loyal, soul, rescue.

He raised his hands. The rings stayed with them. He thought about them growing bigger. They did, changing from the size of dinner plates to the size of trash bin lids, the glow flaring in turn. He wished for them to disappear, and they winked out of existence. He wished for them to return, and they faded back in.

This wasn’t possible. He’d tried magic spells before, they hadn’t worked. He thought he wasn’t magic. But apparently he’d been wrong. Maybe he just needed some proper motivation. Maybe he just needed something—or someone—to fight for.

JJ was smiling. Under the mask, he was honest-to-god smiling. The motion was pulling at the stitching, and he welcomed it. It had been so long.

No more listening to Anti. No more waiting on the sidelines, not even trying, because he thought he couldn’t do it. He could do it. He was going to save his friends.