Part Fifteen of the Inverted AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a fic series I wrote from December 2018 to August 2021. After the events of the last chapter, Anti gets ready to take action.]
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Anti glitched into the hub, emotionally exhausted after the long night. It was strange, for the longest time he thought he couldn’t get tired, even mentally, but then he met these bastards and suddenly he knew the definition of “worn out.” Whatever. He’d spent the last twelve hours or so running around and making sure they weren’t causing trouble, and he’d say that was worth it. He was behind on security footage from the house, though. It could probably wait a few more minutes while he changed the bandages on his neck.

Something bonked the back of his head, and he spun around. “Sam,” he greeted. “Hey.”

Sam ran into the side of his face. Several times.

“What are you doing?” He gently swiped them away. “I know this means something’s up, but it can wait a bit. I can feel the wet cloth on my throat and it’s very distracting.”

Sam leveled him with a narrow glare that said 'Well if you just let it heal like you did with every other wound you wouldn’t have to do that.'

“Don’t give me that look!” he scolded. “I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you AGAIN. Come get me after I deal with this.”

Anti glitched away to another room, only for Sam to dart forward and land on his shoulder just before he broke apart, coming along for the ride. The minute their particles reformed they began insistently thwapping his cheek with their optic nerve. He scowled. “WHAT?! What? Is it the security footage? You saying I have to check that NOW?”

Sam bobbed once, the symbol for yes.

“Fine.” He glitched once again, materializing in the room with the monitors. Technically if he wanted to, Anti could be in two places at once and constantly keeping up with the footage, but that could mess with his concentration if he was doing something more difficult at the same time. So he had to constantly rewind the footage whenever he had a spare moment.

With a twitch, the live feed shown on the monitors froze, and began rewinding. Sam flew off his shoulder and began hovering next to his head, nerve-tail flicking anxiously. “Oh look, the same sort of shit is happening,” Anti muttered with a glance at them. A few minutes passed, and Anti grew impatient, speeding up the film more. “I don’t know what you’re so—”

Wait. Something was different.

Anti paused the footage. He’d gone too far past…whatever that was, so he fast-forwarded a bit and turned on the sound. He was looking at the footage from the living room camera. The timestamp read 7:02 p.m., and the doctor and the vigilante had already left for their nightly occupations. Chase was lying on the couch, and Anti flipped through the other cameras real quick to see Jameson in his room and Marvin in the library. Then he switched back to the living room.

He watched Jack enter the picture and say he was planning on going for a walk. Chase immediately attached himself to him, like he did. But Jack…was a bit more reluctant than he usually was on occasions like this. Anti leaned closer to the screen.

Jack grabbed the gun. Anti let the footage resume its normal speed and went totally silent as he watched Jack confront Chase. A grin split his face. “It ̛wo̴rk̨ed!” He laughed. “It actually worked!” He’d taken a bit of a risk, cleaning Jack’s neural passages of the false memories. There was a chance the spell could’ve snapped back against that and done some mild damage. But he was done with waiting and trying gentle persuasion. Clearly it wasn’t getting him anywhere. So, he felt the risk was probably worth it. And to fight against any possible side effects, he planned for the dream to happen the night before the spell was about to be renewed, when it would be at its weakest.

But things went south quickly. The hero and the doctor came home, even though they’d barely left, and Jack panicked and ran. He saw Jameson upstairs and took the only available option: downstairs. “Jack, what are you doing?!” Anti leaned forward further, actually putting his hands on the screen, his palms fizzing with glitches, almost going into the screen. “He’s not that hard to get past! Just shove him away!” Well, it wasn’t like Jack knew that. And he’d just woken up from a two-year long spell, his brain was likely scrambled, not to mention probably freaked out by seeing the guy who was behind it.

But going into the basement? That was really the worst choice, as it was a dead end without even windows to climb out of. Anti switched to the camera he’d put in the basement hallway, watching Jack run into the first room to the right and slam the door behind him. The others were right on his heels. They talked among themselves for a little bit, and then Marvin came out of the library and demanded to know what was going on, and then Jackie explained to him in the most annoyed, anger-filled tone possible, and then those two shouted for a bit. Everyone suddenly went silent, though, and looked over at Jameson, listening to whatever mental words he had to say.

Anti glared at his image on the screen. God, he wished there was some way to pick up on those projections. Sadly, he couldn’t intercept them through the cameras, especially not on past footage. But he could figure out what was happening well enough. He watched Jackie try and fail to appeal to Jack, then try to force the door open. After it failed to budge, Chase helped him pull it open enough for Jameson to slip inside.

He switched to the camera in the room. It was obvious that Jameson was putting on an illusion for Jack. Luckily, cameras couldn’t be fooled by mind tricks, and neither could Anti, if he’d been there in person. “Don’t you fucking ḑar̨e̡ let him inside,” Anti growled. “Don’t do it. Keep your eyes open.” He was so close to the screen, particles from his body were constantly flowing between him and the pixels on the monitor.

For a moment, it looked like Jameson WAS winning. Anti was getting ready to scream, only for Jack to suddenly snap out of it and fire the gun. Everyone burst into the room at that, Chase latched onto Jack while Marvin and Jackie went to help Jameson, who—Anti threw his head back and laughed. “You lucky little Irishman, you actually hit the watch!” The best place to hit. Jameson would be out of commission until that talisman could be repaired.

Jack was still stuck in the house, however. After a while, the others ended up leaving him in that room, locking it behind them as they left. They all went upstairs to the living room. Anti turned up the sound to listen closely to their conversation.

“It will last until morning,” the doctor was saying. “But I must admit, I do not know what to do once that time comes around.”

“I mean.” Jackie was playing with his hair. “We could just…let him go.”

“Yes, good idea,” Marvin drawled. “Let the one guy who now knows about every-fucking-thing we did go out into the world still armed with this information. We’re gonna have the police and maybe even the magic police in here in no time, and the wards aren’t built to withstand a concentrated assault, just keep this place hidden.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve made wards that could do that, then,” Jackie snapped. “Look. This whole thing was a shitty thing to do. And now we have a chance to un-do it. If you’re so worried about him giving away secrets, then find some way to make him forget them, or be unable to tell them, I’m sure you have spells to do that. Still be pretty bad, but at least he wouldn’t be stuck here, like we kidnapped him, which, I’ll remind you, WE TECHNICALLY DID.”

“And?” Marvin demanded. “Then what? We now know spells like that can break. And once they do, even if he doesn’t tell anyone, he’s still going to disappear and we’ll never see him again.”

“Wow. Didn’t know you CARED so much about not seeing Jack again.”

“I—shut the fuck up, I don’t. But—but Chase does! We should probably ask him about this.”

At this, everyone looked at Chase, who was standing in the corner of the room with his arms folded, unusually quiet. And he stayed that way, looking away from the others, for quite a while. Until eventually he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, “…we can’t—can’t undo this, Jackie. We have to…keep going.”

Jackie’s voice softened. “Chase, I know how you feel about him. But you want him to be happy, right? Did he SOUND happy back there?”

Chase didn’t say anything for a moment. “…he just…he can’t leave. Like everyone else does. I-I-I know that there’s…there’s still something there. We’re still friends. I just…need to remind him. I can do it.”

“Chase, are we not your friends?” the doctor asked.

“I didn’t say that. But…it-it’s not the same thing. I don’t know how…just it is. And I can…I can convince him that it’s still the same.”

Silence. Jackie sighed. “Alright. Fine. If that’s what you think. I still stand by what I say, but I’ll drop it for now. For now. I claim the right to try and talk you out of this later.” He looked around. “Now what?”

Marvin glanced at Jameson. “Well, we gotta find some way to fix…that whole situation.”

“I trust you two can do that,” the doctor said. “But Chase, in the meantime, I must remind you about the other one. Maybe you would like to talk to her?”

The other one?

Anti paused the footage, separating himself from the screen. Sam, previously hovering, landed on his shoulder. No. He couldn’t have. Quickly, he rewound the footage once more, to back before the incident with Jack, staring intently at the screen. People came and went, travelling throughout the house. Until, about 4:00 according to the timestamp, when Jameson and Chase entered the house through the front door, accompanied by a woman with curly shoulder-length blonde hair.

“Yo̸u a̴b̨soluţe͡ ̵ba̕sta҉r͝d͢!” Anti screamed. He banged his fist against the screen so hard it partially sank into it, becoming part energy. “I can’t believe I thought you wouldn’t stoop to that! The bar was so low, and you still didn’t manage to jump over it!”

He stepped back, spinning on his heel and dissolving into pixels, reforming in a new room. He’d barely set this up the night before last, all the equipment and screens were still shiny and new. Still just as easy to tap into, though. He blinked, and the screens flickered to life, showing the feed from the new security cameras he’d set up around Stacy’s neighborhood. He began rewinding, back to about 4:00 yesterday. And there they were. Chase and the fucking hypnotist, strolling down the street while he’d been too busy running around, making sure that the city was prepared for the next night of vigilantes, magicians, hypnotists, and underground doctors.

He switched to the next camera. Chase and Jameson were knocking on the door to Stacy’s house. He saw a flicker in the window, but there was no answer otherwise. That didn’t stop Chase and Jameson from fiddling with the doorknob, eventually getting it open. Because of course one of them knew how to pick locks, maybe even both of them, he wouldn’t be surprised. They went into the house and closed the door behind him. A few moments passed. Something hit the window with a thump, but otherwise it was silent. Until a minute later, when the two of them walked back out with Stacy in tow.

Anti growled, the sound coming out laced with a crackle that sounded almost like static. “Sam, we need to see what happened in there,” he said, glancing down at the eye still on his shoulder. “Hold on.” One glitch later, and the hub went dark the moment its source of power had left.

He materialized in Stacy’s living room, shaking off the effects of using the TV as the source he’d connected to. Everything in here looked pretty okay. The only thing odd was that a book was lying on the back of the couch, open. As if it had been thrown at something but missed and hit the window, landing on the couch once it bounced off. Anti frowned, glitching into the dining room.

“Trev, look! He’s back!”

Ah yes. The kids. Both of them were sitting at the table, coloring books and markers spread out before him, eyes wide as they stared at Anti’s sudden appearance. Sam perked up, flying over and landing on top of the daughter’s head, who giggled. “Oh, it’s you two,” Anti said. “I’m looking for your mother. Where is she?”

The son shrugged. “I dunno. She left.”

“Really? What happened?”

“I dunno.”

“Trev’s just upset because Dad was here yesterday and not today,” the daughter said.

“Hm.” Anti tried his best to not scowl. Apparently, according to Stacy, it upset kids to see adults angry. He had no idea how accurate that was, he didn’t have any experience with being a kid. “Why was he here?”

“Okay, so, we were in the living room,” the daughter started, “doin’ homework. And suddenly he knocked on the door, and I know Dad’s voice even though it’s been a long time, and he said he wanted to talk to Mom. She looked out the window and then ducked, and she told us to go into the other room, and we didn’ want to because we wanted to see Dad, but she said she’d take away our dessert priv’l’jes so we did, but we stayed to listen. And we heard the door open, and Mom was yelling, and Dad was talking, and Dad said he just wanted her to listen and he didn’ want to do this, but I dunno what ‘this’ was. And Mom threw a book, and she yelled ‘get out of my head!’ and I dunno what that means, and then she yelled ‘get away from me!’ But then she went really quiet, and Dad talked more but it was too quiet, and then they both left.”

“You didn’t talk to your Dad?” Anti asked.

The son spoke up. “Nah. He said something like ‘what about the kids’ and then he said ‘there’s always time’ and then he said ‘fine but I’m coming to see them tonight’ and then he said ‘fine, tomorrow’ and then he left.” He looked down at the table surface. “I dunno why he didn’ say hi.”

“Maybe he was in a hurry,” Anti said absentmindedly. “Maybe there was an emergency he needed your mother for.”

“But he couldn’ say hi? And he said he would be back tomorrow, and today is tomorrow! Why isn’ he here?”

“Maybe something came up. Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything about your father.” The last statement came out a little bitter. “Do you kids need to, like, eat?”

“It’s not dinnertime yet,” the daughter said. “But we’re hungry. Yesterday we ate all the cereal when Mom didn’t come back before dinnertime. And we stayed up late. I’m tired. Will Mom be back today?”

“I don’t know,” Anti shrugged. “Maybe tonight. Do you know how to make food? Like, sandwiches or something?”

“Do you?” the son asked, glaring.

“No.”

The son was surprised by that. “But…you’re a grown-up. Grown-ups make food.”

“They do if they need to. I’ve never needed to.” Anti glared across the dining room into the adjoined kitchen. “I guess you could scavenge or some shit like that, like you did yesterday.”

“You said a bad word!” The daughter gasped.

“I know.” He kept glaring at the kitchen. “I bet if you use the stools you can reach the upper cabinets if you need to.” Something poked the back of his head and he turned around to see Sam, hovering really close to him. “What?”

Sam zoomed back to the kids and circled around them, giving Anti a happy look.

“You want to stay with them?” Anti asked. When Sam bobbed yes, he shrugged. “Fine. For tonight only. I’ll be back soon. You kids, take a nap or something. Sam, can you keep them safe?” Sam bobbed again. “Alright. See you again later.” And Anti glitched away.

An instant later, he was back in the hub. The first thing he did was grab his knife from nowhere and throw it at the nearest monitor, where it landed deep in the screen with a shattering crash. “You know, ͡Br̨o͠dy, for someon͏e wh͟o͏ claims to love͏ the kids so much, you sure did ͏l͏eave͏ them without a҉n͏yone to ͟ta̧k̸ȩ c̷are̶ ̷of them!” He shouted to nothing. “What, did your curren̨t ̛ob̸s̢ess̢io͝ns͢ get in the way of ͏your ob̧se҉ss̶ion͢ ͡wi͟th̶ t̕he̢m?” After a moment of silence, he laughed. “Oh, that’s probably e͏x͢ac͝t̴ly what happened! Spent all yesterday talking with your wife, then the thing with Jack happened, and now you’re so concentrated on those two that you forgot about your kids, t̢he ̧t̛i̧ny͏ ̨hum̕an͞s wh̨o̷ de͟pęn͞d ͞on̨ ̢y͞o̢u. Gods, Brody. No wonder the government found you guilty of neglect and took them away.”

He stared at the screen he’d flung the knife into, which was now flickering wildly with colors and broken pixels. With a thought, he shut off the power to it and it went dark. His head swung over to another monitor, and he switched on the live feed from the house. Just in time to catch Marvin and Jameson leaving, off to find a way to repair the watch. A quick flash through the other cameras revealed that the hero and the doctor were still home, in the kitchen, Chase was pacing through the upper floor hallway, clearly nervous, and Jack was still locked in the room from yesterday. He looked…angry, but the sort of angry that you become when you’re too scared to even let it show how afraid you were. Another quick glance through the cameras showed Stacy was in the basement too, in another room. She just looked scared, sitting on the bed in the room with her knees pulled to her chest. A quick rewind showed there hadn’t been much harm done to her outside of a brief talk with her ex.

If he just waited until 7:00, the other two would leave, and it would just be Chase there. They still hadn’t upgraded the wards against him. Or at least, not enough. They kept underestimating how easy it was for him to break through them.

He looked back at the broken screen. He had a reflection in it. It was…odd to see. Being solid was not his default state, so it always threw him off guard to see reflections and shadows. His unblinking eye didn’t look away from the reflection as he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, letting it drop to the floor. Next came the bloodstained bandages, also dropped.

And then there was the eye-patch. The one he’d never gone without, the one he hadn’t willingly taken off in…it must be over ninety years now. He reached up and slowly undid the knotted straps holding it in place. The patch was pulled off, held for a moment more, then fell unceremoniously to the ground.

A bright green light flared into being, accompanied by an almost electrical humming. And Anti smiled. “S̡̕ee҉ y͟͠ou̶͢ ̛ş̶o̵͟o͏n̸̕,̕ ̵̨͞C̛͢h͝aşe̵̷.”

The shadows stretched, every electronic in the hub went haywire, all lighting up with green. Reality bent until it broke, splinters of pixels crashing against each other in a cacophony of glitches.

And then it was over. All that was left was a faint red glow…and the shadow of a laughing grin.

Part Twenty-Five of the PW Timeline
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a complete series I wrote from July 2019 to July of 2022. Chase, Marvin, and the others are finally ready to rescue JJ and Schneep from Anti once and for all. They set up a plan, figure out where they’re being held for sure, and spring into action. But of course, Anti’s not just going to sit by.]
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Calling a second meeting was easy. Chase simply texted Marvin—still waiting at his house—to start another video call with Jackie and Jack in the hospital, with the explanation that they needed to talk about this in person. By the time they arrived back at Chase’s house, everything was up again. Though there had been a slight detour on the way back, as they had to drop Newson off at her house. Laurens had offered to let her join in the meeting, but Newson declined. She said, “I think my part in this adventure is done,” but really Chase thought she didn’t feel welcomed. Which was fair. Marvin would have chewed her out the moment he saw her.

Which left Chase, Laurens, and Mina. Chase parked his car on the street and the three of them headed inside the house. Marvin was waiting, pacing back and forth across the living room. The moment the front door opened, he spun around and said, “What happened?! Why were you gone so long?!”

Chase didn’t answer immediately. He glanced around his living room, finding it unchanged. Because of course it was. Nothing major happened in the time they were gone. But that phone call had really put him on edge. He walked over to the coffee table, checking the laptop. “Hey guys,” he said, waving at the screen.

“Hey Chase. Um, is everything alright?” Jackie asked. “You look…worried.” Jack nodded in agreement.

“I—I mean, yeah? I guess I am,” Chase muttered.

“What happened?” Marvin repeated, now directing this question specifically at Chase. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he turned to Mina and Laurens. “Well? Was your idea right?”

Mina closed the front door with a soft click. She didn’t say anything, looking shaken. So Laurens answered, “Well, yes. But also…something more.”

Chase sat down heavily on the sofa. “We…we found them.”

“What?!” The video call was momentarily overcome by motion blur as Jackie dropped the iPad on their end. “Shit. Sorry! Jack, can you—yeah. Thanks.” The video steadied. Jackie and Jack were a bit closer to the screen now, listening intently.

“I—you—how?” Marvin stammered. “I thought you were just going to talk to that doctor lady and check out a building or something.”

Mina and Laurens rejoined the group. Laurens sat down in a chair, but Mina continued standing, her face drawn and worried.

“Yeah, they…I think they’re there. In that building,” Chase said slowly. “Or at least, Anti is.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed this fact. Then Marvin said, “Well, what are we waiting for?! We said we were gonna call the police, right?! Let’s call them!”

“N-no, I…I don’t think we can,” Chase said quietly.

Marvin paused, taken aback by the unexpected response. “Um…what?”

Chase quickly explained what happened. How they talked with Newson, then realized the possible connection between Anti’s symbol and the ‘graffiti’ her brother used to complain about. How they checked out the apartment building he lived in before his death at Anti’s hands and found the symbol right there. And finally, how Chase almost called the police, but was stopped by a call from an unknown number that turned out to be Anti himself.

“He said he…would hurt them if we called them,” Chase finished, his voice quiet. “I…we can’t let that happen.”

Another moment of silence. This time, Jackie broke it. “He could have been bluffing. I mean, I don’t think he’d really want to hurt Jameson…like, physically.”

Marvin nodded. “Yeah, and besides, how will he know if we call the police? He’s not gonna know they’re coming for him until they’re outside the building, and by then it’ll be too late.”

“They are on the third floor,” Mina said. “That is long enough for him to see them outside and follow through on what he threatened. Especially since he has a camera in the stairs.”

“But what’s the point in hurting them at that point?” Marvin argued. “He might as well use that time to try and get out of there.”

“There would be enough time to see them coming, I don’t know if it’d be long enough to get away entirely,” Chase said. “And by then, he might just decide to…do it anyway. To prove a point. I mean…” He looked at the laptop. “Jackie. You remember what happened with you, right?”

Jackie nodded slowly, reaching up to rub his upper arm. The ‘WARNING’ cut into his skin had almost healed by now, but it was certainly going to leave a scar.

Marvin fell silent. Then he let out a frustrated grunt. “Well we can’t just leave them there! We know where they are! We’re so close!”

“I don’t like it either!” Chase burst out. “But I don’t want to get them killed or worse by trying to help! We don’t even know if they’re in there or if it’s just another hideout for him! That camera in the stairwell could be streaming to any location, maybe he’s not even there and when he sees the cops coming he doesn’t even have to try and escape! We—we can’t risk it!”

“I know, I know, but being stuck there isn’t any better for them!” Marvin countered. “If he’s willing to—to fucking punish you by hurting them, then who knows what he’s doing to them on his own!”

Chase stared at Marvin. Marvin stared right back. Neither said anything, knowing the other was right. Then, after a moment, Laurens cleared her throat. “Um…well, do you remember what you said when you brought up this investigation idea to me?”

Marvin looked at her. “Actually, no. What?”

“You said something like, we’re not going to break into anywhere,” Laurens said. “I mean…maybe you…reconsider that?”

Jackie burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Rya! I had no idea you were such a rebel!”

“W-w-well I mean—it’s not a good idea,” she stammered. “I’m just trying to say there has to be something else we can do.”

Chase nodded, slowly at first, then gaining speed. “Right. Right. I—heh, I mean, the whole reason we started investigating was because we wanted to finally do something. We can’t give up now.”

“Of course!” Marvin smacked his hand with his fist. “His only condition was us calling the police! What if we do it ourselves?”

Jackie abruptly stopped laughing. “Are you guys serious?”

“Wait, yeah, I-I didn’t mean it literally,” Laurens said. “I just meant—I wanted to be inspiring, you know? I didn’t mean we should actually try and get them out.”

“And why not?” Marvin asked. “We can’t let them stay there, but we can’t call the police. It’s the perfect solution!”

“I agree with Marvin,” Mina said. “We will get nowhere without some drastic action.” She pressed a hand to her side, where her wallet full of photos was hidden in her pocket.

“…Marvin.” Jackie pressed his lips together. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am in the hospital. I am here because I decided to search for Schneep on my own, found him, and then proceeded to get fucking kidnapped. Anti is DANGEROUS.”

“I know. And I-I don’t mean to…undermine what you went through,” Marvin said softly. “But he’s still just one guy, right? There’s six of us—well, you two are in the hospital, but we still outnumber him four to one.”

“I…you’re not WRONG, but…” Jackie shifted uncomfortably.

“I…” Jack spoke up for the first time. His voice cracked, so he stopped, then started again. “I think…you sh-should…do it. We h-have to…to…finisshh this.”

Chase took a deep breath. “Jack is right. This keeps going on and on and on. Anti kidnaps someone, we get someone back. Anti kidnaps someone, we get them back. We’re going in fucking circles, and we have to break out of it. The only way to do that—or, the only way that ends up good for everyone—is to get everyone away from him. A-and if we can’t call the police…we have to find some other way to do that. I know it’s dangerous, but…I think it’s worth it.”

After a moment, Jackie sighed. “I guess you’re right,” he said slowly. “I can’t…I can’t stand to think of what Hen is going through, stuck there again. And Jameson, too. Just because Anti likes him doesn’t mean he’s having a good time. I know that.”

Laurens reluctantly nodded. “Well…if we’re safe about it, a-and if we call the police right after we’re sure they’re safe, then…I guess it’ll be fine.”

Marvin nodded. “Okay. Good. Glad we’re doing this.” He paused. “Now we just need to figure out how we’re doing this.”

“To start, we need to know what flat it is,” Mina said. “We know it is third floor, but not the number. We cannot rescue them if we do not know where they are.”

“Or if they’re even there,” Chase muttered. “But how do we find that out? I mean, Anti has at least one camera in that building. And he knows all of us. Even you, Mina. So we can’t exactly scout out the area without him knowing something’s up.”

“Maybe we ask that…Newson lady again?” Marvin’s expression was sour at the thought of it, but he offered the suggestion up anyway.

“I guess we can try, but I doubt it’ll work,” Laurens said. “We were lucky she remembered that one random detail about the building. I don’t think she’ll have any clue which apartment Anti would be in.” She paused. “Though…maybe I could ask someone else for help.”
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Someone was knocking at the door. This had never happened before. Or if it had, it hadn’t happened during the moments Jameson was out of the bedroom. The someone at the door was very persistent, knocking every thirty seconds or so. Jameson kept staring towards it, eyes locked on the old wood of the door. He wanted so badly to run towards the door, throw it open, and beg for help from whoever was on the other side. There was just one thing stopping him.

The moment the knocking had started, Anti had run from the kitchen into the living room where Jameson was. In seconds, he’d grabbed Jameson’s arm in a vice-like grip, hissing, “Don’t you dare say anything.” In his other hand, he held a knife—not a kitchen knife, but not a pocket knife either. This one looked somewhat…professional, if that was the right word. Six inches long and sharp on both sides.

Jameson didn’t think Anti would stab him. But he wasn’t so sure about Anti stabbing Schneep. He could very clearly picture the sequence of events in his mind. Jameson screamed for help, Anti hurried to open the door and persuaded the stranger that everything was fine, perhaps saying that his younger brother had some sort of disorder—that sounded like an excuse that would come from his shitty attitude. Once the stranger was satisfied, Anti would lock the door again, head to the bedroom, and—

He didn’t want that to happen. So, for now, the two of them were sitting on the apartment’s sofa, with Anti holding Jameson’s arm tight enough to hurt. The knocking had gone on for a solid two minutes, and Anti kept getting more annoyed. “Persistent fucker,” he muttered.

Jameson glanced at him, then down at the knife. He wouldn’t kill some random person who came to the door, would he? No, that didn’t seem like a smart idea. Even with Anti’s temper, everything he did was ultimately calculated.

There was another series of knocking, and Anti suddenly shot to his feet. “Stay,” he ordered, and headed over to the door, holding the knife behind his back. He took out a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and…opened it.

For a moment, Jameson wanted to run. It was agony to just sit there when he could make a break for it. But it wasn’t safe. Not for him, and not for Schneep.

The window of opportunity didn’t last long enough, anyway. Anti opened the door, briefly glanced over the man who was standing there, then snapped, “Fuck off already!” and slammed the door again, locking it immediately after.

Jameson slumped. He’d tried to catch the visitor’s eye, but the man had only looked at him for a split second right before the door slammed again. Not enough time to get a silent message across.

Anti waited, standing at the door. But there wasn’t any more knocking. He let out a breath of relief, then turned back to look at Jameson. “You actually didn’t move?” he said, surprised.

Jameson didn’t say anything back. He kept looking at him, hoping that he was conveying the appropriate answer of 'You have a knife and a hostage and are much stronger than me, what the fuck did you think would happen?'

Anti laughed. The sound was surprisingly lighthearted. “Thanks,” he said, his voice softer. “Hey. What about having dessert tonight? For your friend, too.”

Was that a bribe? No. Wait. It was a reward. For doing the ‘good’ thing. Jameson balls his fists, bundling up the fabric of his pants. Still, he nodded. Once. Had to choose which battles to pick, and all that.

“Great.” Anti brightened. “Why don’t you go tell him?” Then he turned and headed back into the kitchen.

As he passed, Jameson glanced down, remembering which pocket he put the front door key in and trying to seal it in his memory. Choose which battles. He had to save his energy for the definitive one, his opportunity to get himself and Schneep out of there once and for all. Anti always put the key in the same pocket. Maybe that could be useful.

Later. This wasn’t that battle.
.............................................................................................

Later that night, Laurens was sitting at home, trying to relax with a book, when her phone started to ring. Immediately she lunged across the sofa and scooped it up from the end table. “Hello?”

“Hey doc, it’s me.” The voice on the other end belonged to Oliver. “I just got back from checking out those flats you told me to.”

“Oh good.” Laurens didn’t dare relax. “Did everything go okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “And, more importantly, I saw that guy you were looking for.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Scars all over the left side of his face, one green eye that looked kinda fake. Hard to mistake him for anyone else. Even if I did only see him for, like, a second. He was in flat 309. I think the window had brown shutters.”

“And you’re okay?” Laurens asked again.

“Rya, I’m fine,” Oliver said seriously. “I know you said this was supposed to be dangerous, but nothing happened. I didn’t say anything to him, I doubt he even paid attention to what I looked like. Although…”

Laurens inhaled sharply. “‘Although’ what?”

“Well, there was one thing that happened. The flat door was only open for a second, like I said, but I think I saw some other guy inside. He looked a lot like…like Schneep.” Oliver paused. “I know you said to just trust you, and that this was to help find Schneep, but I gotta ask…are you trying to find him?”

Laurens paused. “Yeah,” she admitted, then hurriedly added, “But don’t call the police! I don’t want to distract them with things until we’re sure.”

“Alright, alright,” Oliver conceded. “Is there anything else I can do to help? I’m worried about the guy.”

“Thanks for the offer, Oliver, but—”

“Yeah, I know. It’s dangerous, and the less I know the better,” Oliver said, repeating the very thing she’d told him when first asking him for this favor. “But I’ll be on standby. Just call me, okay?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks so much, Oliver.”

“No problem. Again, call me whenever.”

The call ended, and Laurens was immediately dialing another number. She had to tell the others they figured it out.
.............................................................................................

Unfortunately, Jackie and Jack couldn’t make it this time. By the time the others were able to meet up that night—at Chase’s house for a third time—visiting hours at the hospital were over, and that apparently included video calls. Chase suggested they wait until tomorrow, but Marvin insisted they at least figure out a plan right now.

“Do I need to offer you guys, like, tea or something?” Chase said, looking around at the three others in his living room. “Since you keep showing up. Seems polite.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Laurens said. Mina nodded. Marvin didn’t say anything, but he kept bouncing his leg while sitting, so clearly he was anxious to get on with it.

“Right. Okay then.” Chase cleared his throat. “So, doc. That guy you called managed to find them?”

“Oliver,” Marvin recalled. “I ran into him once. Good guy.”

“Are they in that building?” Mina asked, anxiously playing with the zipper on her jacket.

“Yeah. Room 309,” Laurens said. “A-Anti opened the door.”

“Is Oliver…okay?” Chase asked. “Did Anti think he was suspicious?”

“I don’t think so. Apparently he just opened the door long enough to tell him to go away. But, uh, Oliver did manage to catch a glimpse inside in that time, and he…he’s pretty sure he saw someone else in there. Someone who looked like Schneep.” Laurens goes quiet.

“That can be either of them,” Marvin said. “They look surprisingly alike. So at the very least, one of them is there now. JJ or Schneep.” He lets out a breath. “Okay. We gotta move quick, what if—what if he moves them?”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” Laurens said doubtfully.

“Still, just in case!”

“Marvin is right,” Mina jumped in. “We know what is happening now, we do not know what will happen in two days. Though, I will say, we should not move right in. If this Anti is as dangerous as everyone is saying—and I do not doubt he is—we would be out of our class in a fight.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Marvin pointed out. “I want to fucking kill Anti, but even if I could take him, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves. I also don’t want to go to jail for…I don’t know, whatever. Can they put you in jail for a beating? I feel like they can.”

“I think so?” Laurens said. “But that’s not really important right now. Do we need…do we need weapons?” She asked that last part in a hush.

Chase hesitated for a moment. “I…if we’re looking for something in case of a fight, I think I have something that can help. Wait a minute.” He turned around and disappeared down the hallway before anyone could ask him what he meant.

“Okay, so he’s getting that,” Marvin said. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk up to the apartment and try to get in while Anti’s still in there. Those things aren’t exactly big, we’d DEFINITELY run into him.”

“So we need to get him out,” Mina said. “How do we do that?”

At that moment, Chase returned. He was now holding a black rectangular box made of metal. A safe box. Setting it down on the coffee table, he looked at the others nervously. “Okay, so…promise you won’t say anything?”

“What do you mean?” Marvin asked.

“I…nevermind. I’ll just show you.” Chase was also holding a small key. He slid it into the safe box’s lock and twisted it. For a second, he paused, taking a deep breath. Then he opened the box and turned it around so the others could see inside.

If he was hoping for a discreet reaction, he didn’t get it. Marvin immediately jumped to his feet and shouted, “Why the fuck do you have a gun?!”

“Marvin, shh!” Chase hushed him. “You’re loud, the neighbors could probably hear you.”

“What the fuck?” Mina gasped. “I thought that was illegal here! Did they change the laws?”

“No, they didn’t.” Laurens glanced up at Chase. “How…how’d you get that? And why?”

“Oh my god, next thing you know, you’re gonna say you bought it from the boutique.” Marvin rubbed the sides of his head like a headache was beginning to form. “Chase, I swear to god, if you knew that place was a smuggling front before I did and you said nothing—”

“No no no, I didn’t know about that,” Chase hurried to say. “I—I do have a license, you know. Haven’t used it in a couple years, and it’s probably only valid in the US—”

“American,” Mina muttered.

“—but it’s totally legal. I got the gun on a trip there, too, a bit before the kids were born. I—I got scared for a while there,” Chase said. “That something might happen to them, like, someone could break in or something. I realized pretty soon that owning a gun in this country would probably cause more trouble than it was worth, but not soon enough, because I was already back here and I didn’t want to risk getting it through the airport again and—i-it was a whole mess. So it’s just been…locked in a box.”

Though Marvin and Mina seemed to accept this explanation—more or less—Laurens stared at Chase, the gears working in her mind. Chase avoided looking at her. This wasn’t the time to talk about it. After a while, Laurens also came to that conclusion, and said nothing.

“Well I guess that’ll be a great line of defense!” Marvin said, throwing his hands in the air. “Now it’s even more important that nobody calls the police! Chase, I swear to god, you better get rid of this afterward.”

“Y-yeah, I was planning on doing that for a while,” Chase said. “I just…don’t know how.”

“Drop it off in a bag somewhere and call the police anonymously,” Mina suggested, half-jokingly.

“Do you think we could get Anti out of the apartment if we threaten to shoot him?” Marvin asked.

“No, that wouldn’t work,” Laurens answered immediately. “He’d probably shout something like ‘oh my god this guy has a gun!’ and we’d have to deal with that.”

“We need to keep it secret,” Mina said. “Only take it out if we need to fight Anti.”

“Okay. Yeah. Um.” Chase closed the safe box lid again, making sure the lock clicked. “Let’s put that away for now, a-and sit down and actually figure this out. We have to get to business.”

They discussed plans of action for two hours, throwing around ideas trying to get one that was guaranteed success. Ultimately, they couldn’t come up with a guarantee, but they had an idea that was pretty good. It still made Chase nervous to think about, though. Still, it was their best shot. And they couldn’t wait much longer. As Marvin pointed out, Anti could move JJ and Schneep somewhere else at any moment.

In the end, they decided to talk the plan over with Jackie and Jack tomorrow, early in the morning. The two of them could help refine it. Then, immediately after that, they’d go over to the apartment building and…actually attempt a rescue. It was insane to think about. But it didn’t feel like they had any other options. So tomorrow it would be. Tomorrow, they would get their friends back.

Part Ten of the Switch AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of an ongoing fic series I started in April 2019. While Jackie is still missing, JJ takes it upon himself to make sure everyone is doing alright. Though perhaps he's taken on more than he can handle...]
.............................................................................................

The alarm went off at eight o’clock am. The beeping had been ramped up in volume, something that Jameson suddenly very much regretted. He also regretted that he’d set his alarm clock on his bookshelf across the room, instead of the nightstand right next to him. He groaned and rolled over, briefly considering throwing a magic bolt at the clock to shut it up, but instead stood up and walked over to turn it off. He sighed. Well, he was awake now.

Normally, JJ was more of a morning person than a late waker. But he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Last night, the last he’d glanced at the glowing digital numbers of the clock, it was 3:45 am. And he remembered waking up a couple times, too. He was probably nervous about what he had planned today.

Which reminded him. He needed to get ready. He went through the drawers and found a set of clothes for the day, then went downstairs. While heating up a cinnamon roll for breakfast, he jotted a note down for Marvin, explaining where he would be all day:

"Sorry, I won’t be around all day. I have that meeting with another magician at nine, that one I told you about a few days ago. Then I’m going to go visit a few people and study at the library. I have rehearsal starting at 4:30, you can come watch if you want. See you later! -JJ"

He hoped that would help. Marvin hated being out of the loop.

After that, it was a half hour to get ready, and another half hour to take the car and drive to the park, where he’d be meeting…someone. He wasn’t sure what they would look like. About two weeks ago, he’d reached out to the ABIM—the organization that functioned as a loose government for magicians. He didn’t know much about them, having only interacted with them maybe once or twice. But…well, things were starting to look bad. Jackie had been missing for six months. He hadn’t had any luck scrying for Jackie’s location, and there were no signs of Distorter to go off of, either. He hadn’t seen Anti in person in a few weeks, Schneep was being evasive as well, and Marvin…well, he wasn’t exactly talking about what was going on with him, but Jameson could hear him and his nightmares through the floorboards.

So of course, Jameson had to do something about this. He couldn’t just let everything fall apart. He had to make sure the others were alright, had to find some way to help fix everything. But at this point, he couldn’t do it on his own. Which is why he reached out to the ABIM, hoping other magicians would have some sort of advice. A week ago, they’d gotten back to him, saying they would send a representative out to talk.

Which was why he was in the park right now, walking around the perimeter of the small pond, looking for someone. The park was pretty empty at nine in the morning, on a cloudy weekday, so it was easy to see the only other person around. She spotted him at the same moment, waving him over to a bench sitting by the pond’s shore.

“So. You’re Mr. Jameson Jackson, then?” She asked, eyes scanning him as he approached.

“Yes. And who are you?” He scanned her in turn. She wasn’t too unusual, he supposed. Well, she stood out a bit because of her red hair and green eyes, a rare combination. But her jeans, T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie didn’t seem too magical to him.

“My name’s Aoife Kelley,” she said. “I’m part of the Magi, which is a subdivision of ABIM. How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, I suppose. You?”

“Good. Here, let’s sit.” Aoife gestured to the wrought-iron bench. Once JJ sat down, she did as well. “Now, then. To business.” She muttered a few words, and reached forward. Her eyes flared golden yellow, and her hand disappeared, like she’d slid it into a pocket in the air. JJ jumped in alarm, then stared in fascination. He’d never seen a spell like this before. Aoife’s hand pulled back, suddenly holding a blue binder. She flipped it open. “I’m going to just ask you a few questions, see if we have your information right.”

JJ nodded. “Alright.”

“Your name’s Jameson Daniel Jackson. Male. British nationality, Caucasian race. Twenty-seven years old, birthday October 31st, 1990.”

“Yes, that’s all correct.”

“Elemental magic with an ice/water focus, as well as a lesser healing ability. You work as a stage magician?” Aoife raised an eyebrow at that last part.

“Yes.” JJ tried not to squirm. Ironically, he didn’t like being the center of attention. At least, not on such an… INDIVIDUAL level. “If you’re going to lecture me about the dangers of using magic on stage, I’ve already heard it from one of you. I’m being cautious.”

Aoife grinned. “Well, alright, if you’re sure.” She looked back at the file. “There’s no history of magic in your family, nor is there a history of mental illness in you or your bloodline.”

That last part was a bit odd. “Yes, that’s right.” JJ coughed awkwardly. “Are…can we get to the purpose of this meeting? I’d planned to meet up with someone else after this.”

“Oh. Yes, right.” Aoife flipped the binder close. “Sorry to keep you.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not too pressing.” JJ shrugged. “I just…this is a…rather pressing situation I’m in, and I would really appreciate any advice you have on the matter.”

Aoife’s brows scrunched together. “Well, y’see. That’s the problem.”

Jameson felt his heart stop. “What do you mean?”

“This…creature, that you say is following you. That took one of your friends…” Aoife bit her lip. “We…don’t have any records of something like it.”

Jameson could only stare at her. “I’m sorry?”

“We don’t have any records of it.” She opened the binder again, pulling out a piece of paper. Jameson recognized it. It was a printed-out copy of the letter he’d sent to the ABIM online. Because surprisingly enough, the magical organization had an official website. Aoife scanned through the typed words. “It’s something that appears to be human, but with that head injury, it can’t be a living human. And its array of powers…being able to confuse people, sometimes directly control them, and otherwise make it so the mind doesn’t register it as existing…” She tucked the letter back in the binder. “…we don’t have anything like that in our files.”

“Tha—that’s impossible,” Jameson said softly. “You must have something in there. Maybe something buried deep—”

“Yeah, I checked all our records,” Aoife said firmly. “My permissions are pretty high-up, I have access to everything. And I couldn’t find anything like this. Oh sure, there are records of undead that fit the physical description, and some creatures with similar powers, but nothing that fits.” Aoife paused. “I have to ask…are you sure this thing is really out there?”

“Am I sure?” Jameson asked, incredulous. “Am I SURE?! He kidnapped one of my friends and poisoned another! Convinced one of them to walk out into moving traffic! My housemate has nightmares about him that wake him up screa—” Jameson took a deep breath, clenching his fists in an effort to calm down. “We’ve all seen it. Of course we’re sure.”

“Alright. Alright.” Aoife raised her hands, as if in surrender. “I believe you. But, well…some of the others don’t.”

“Some of the others?” Jameson repeated, eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Aoife confirmed. “It’s a big group, and your request for aid got passed around a lot, looking for someone to help. Some of them think you’re making it up, some of them think you’re mistaken…a few of them think you’ve lost your marbles.” Suddenly the question about history of mental illness made more sense. “But the fact of the matter is, we just…we’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Why would I make it up?” Jameson asked quietly.

Aoife shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think you are. But not everyone does. If you could show some sort of proof, it would be helpful.”

“Oh, do you want me to take a picture of him, next time I see it?” JJ drawled. “In between the moments of me fighting for my friends’ lives and free wills?”

“I don’t know,” Aoife said quietly. She stood up, tucking the binder under her arm. “Look, I’m sorry, but until there’s some sort of evidence…we really can’t help you.”

Jameson shot to his feet as well. “Then why did you even agree to meet with me in the first place?”

“Well, it would be rude to just dismiss you in an email,” Aoife said calmly. “Impersonal, you know?” Her voice softened a bit. “Look, I want to help, but I can’t as long as we don’t know what this is. We just need something to show that this…what you’re saying it is. And if it is, then…well…” She pauses. “Then we’ve never seen anything like this before. And we’ll need time. And information.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of wood. She held it out to JJ, who took it silently. Looking down at it, he saw a phone number burned into the wood surface. “This is my personal cell, call me when you’ve…got something. Okay?” She waited for him to nod, then smiled. “Be seeing you.” And without another word, she left.

Jameson stared down at the wooden card, then tucked it into his pocket. He watched Aoife walk away, until she was out of the park and out of the sight. Then he turned, let out a cry of frustration, and kicked a rock out onto the surface of the pond. Where it landed, ripples turned the water a bright, glowing blue that slowly faded away.

He shook his head, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply. If they’ve never heard of anything like Distorter before, it made sense that they needed proof. Just to make sure he wasn’t pranking them or anything. But god, was it frustrating. What was he supposed to do?! When and how was he supposed to get evidence that Distorter existed?! The gray man hadn’t been seen in months! Not to mention, part of him wondered how much help the other magicians could really be, if they’ve never seen anything like Distorter before. All that meant…all that meant was that they were dealing with a threat unlike anything before. Jameson shivered.

No, he’d…he’d figure it out. He had to. Maybe he could modify some of the mind protection spells he found, so they could ward a specific place? Maybe work them into some sort of offensive spell? Or he could put a little more effort into the tracking spells, if he just tried a little more he was sure he could find Jackie.

JJ headed out of the park and back towards his car. He’d planned to do the studying after he got all his visits for the day done, but his mind was already brewing. He could adjust the schedule a bit. Time to head to the library.
.............................................................................................

The clock read 9:34am, a fact which surprised Schneep when he looked at it.

Didn’t it say 12 just a few minutes ago? No, there had been a 3:40 in that interim somewhere. Or was it 6?

"You really should go to sleep."

Schneep shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Shut up.”

There was a figure hovering in the corner of his eyes. "You’re going to kill yourself before you get anything done."

You weren’t supposed to acknowledge it. Schneep knew this. But it was a little hard to ignore it when it looked like one of your friends. Still, he didn’t answer this time, instead backing up to get a full view of the map he’d taped up on the wall. He used to have this entirely digital, but he’d tried printing in all out on paper, see if that helped. The map was littered with push pins, strings tying together locations to newspaper articles he’d found and taped to the wall. He was aware this looked like a crazy conspiracy board, but it was sort of helping.

The figure hovered closer. It looked close enough to reach out and touch, peering over his shoulder. "Is it going to help? You look terrible. Is it really worth it?"

“Yes,” Schneep breathed, leaning on the back of the couch. “Yes, if I can find you. It’s worth it.”

There was a knock at the apartment’s door. Schneep jumped, trying to back up but somehow managing to fall over the back of the sofa instead. Who was at the door? Who came to see him? Was it him, the gray man, coming to finish the job?

Another knock. “Dude, I can and I will pick your lock, let me in.”

He knew that voice, he realized, standing up. But was that proof? What if it was someone pretending to be him?

Oh, too late, the handle was rattling. The door opened to reveal Anti, who entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around the apartment, whistling. “This place is bigger mess than the room of a nine-year-old who refuses to clean. What’s up, Volt?” He paused. “You look terrible.”

"I told you."

“Thank you,” Schneep muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I just…” Anti looked around the area again. “I was in the neighborhood. Why do you have a serial killer board up on your wall?”

“Shut up,” Schneep snapped. He put his hands on his hips and looked over the wall. “I am trying to figure things out. It is a new approach.”

“Uh-huh.” Anti’s eyes darted over the wall. “Figure what kind of things out?”

“You know what I mean! Anything, everything!” Schneep began pacing the length of his living area. On the edges of his vision, there was a shadow of a red hoodie, of big round glasses and brown hair. "Is it worth it? Is it going to work?" “It will work,” Schneep insisted. “I-I can find you.”

“Um…” Anti glanced around the apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”

Shit, no. Anti couldn’t know. Not now. Schneep really didn’t feel like being analyzed by Mr. Psychology-Is-My-Hobby. He whirled around, pointing at the wall. “I am keeping track of everything, everything odd in the last few years. Is very strange, you see? There are a high number of disappearances, and of accidents in the city. More so than in other cities.” He felt his eye twitching, a tiny pulse in his lid. He ignored it. “It is no wonder the police have been no help in finding him, they are useless at this!”

“Really?” Anti looked over the newspaper articles, taking in all the headlines. “You think maybe it’s…you know, all been him?”

“Possibly, possibly.”

"This isn’t going to work." The shadow was whispering in his ear. "You’re slowly dying over this, and it’s not worth it. Can you really find me? You haven’t had success so far."

Schneep waved in the direction of the shadow, as if trying to clear it. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Anti said, looking at him skeptically. “You…did you go to sleep last night?”

Apparently not. Or maybe the clocks were lying to him. Schneep almost sat down on the sofa, but he knew if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stand up and keep working. And that was the most important thing. Keep working. He had to succeed eventually. “Anti,” he said. “Can you do something?”

“Uh, depends on what it is.”

“Where have you been?” Schneep asked. “I have not seen you in, mmm, a couple of months now. Not outside of text.”

Anti shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his neck. “Well. Y’know. Been busy. Is…is that what you wanted me to do? Answer the question?”

What question? Wait, what? What was happening? Schneep shook his head. “No. I am sorry, I got distracted. I wanted to know if you could…I do not know, do something to keep me thinking.”

Anti took a step back. “Um, what?”

“Like one of those stories you like,” Schneep said. “Those spooky ones you tell. Tell one of those, I want to think about something else for a while.” The shadow stood beside him. “But I do not want to think of nothing.”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” Anti flung himself down on the nearest armchair. “I can think of one you haven’t heard yet. You gonna sit down?”

“No.”

“Well, uh. Alright, then.” Anti bit his lip, thinking. “I could tell you the story about the house on Aspen Street.”

Schneep blinked. “I think you have mentioned that before. But I do not remember it.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve talked about it.” Anti flashed a grin. “But I always got stopped from talking about it, by Jackson and Jac—” He cut himself off. “Well, I can do it now.”

“Why would they stop you from talking about it?”

“I guess it could be kind of freaky. I mean, it starts with a true story.” Anti sat up straight. “Five years ago, we all turned on the evening news to a shocking story. A family of four had been found dead. Tragic enough in itself, but things start to become even bleaker once you heard the rest.”

Schneep sat down on the sofa. He gestured for Anti to continue.

Anti’s eyes lit up. “The house was 68 Aspen Street. For years, it had been home to a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. It had been a happy place, a haven. But things started to crack and fall apart. The parents began arguing. About what, we don’t know. Maybe it was money, or bad habits, or the kids, or anything else that could drive two people apart. But drive them apart it did. And eventually the mother couldn’t handle it anymore. She took the kids and left, filing for divorce. It went through, of course, and the father was left alone in the house that had once been full of loved ones.”

“Now, the details of what happened next are hard to fudge out. We know that the kids visited their father on the weekends, and that they were the only people he saw regularly. The father was fired from his job, and had no luck finding anything new. The neighbors stopped seeing him, as he stayed in the house almost every day. He became a recluse who only really lived for his family. A family that was seeing him less and less.”

“One spring day, the kids and their mother disappeared. The police investigated the father, of course, but they found no evidence that he was involved in any way. Until a week later. A neighbor called the authorities, saying she heard gunshots. Four of them, to be precise. Three close together, and one a little bit after. It came from the house on Aspen Street. When the police arrived, they found the whole family. Dead. The father was still holding a handgun.”

Anti paused. “And from there? Well, stories like that tend to linger. Sad spirits refuse to leave. They say the house on Aspen Street is haunted by the family. People who live there tend to get in accidents. And those who get out before the accidents kill them, they always report hearing voices, having things move when they aren’t there…and seeing the figures of the family. Watching. Waiting.”

The apartment was silent. Then Schneep suddenly took a deep breath. “That is a…that is a very sad story,” he whispered.

“Yeah. It is.” Anti said nothing else. The events spoke for themselves.

“You are very good at scaring people, Anti, your voice can be quite…eerie,” Schneep said.

“Thanks.” Anti grinned. “Now. You should go to sleep.”

“Maybe I will. But not if you are here.” Schneep stood up, and pointed at the door. “So, out.”

“Okay, fine.” Anti started to leave, but paused just before reaching the door. He turned around. “Are…are you doing…?” He seemed to have trouble asking the question he really wanted to.

“I am fine,” Schneep insisted.

“You’re going to go to sleep now, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re…you feel…you’re…?”

“Yes, I am fine. Now leave.”

Anti seemed to hesitate, but he opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

Once he was gone, Schneep sighed. He turned to look back at the wall. Something about that story…something was niggling at his mind. He walked up to the map, grabbed a spare push pin, and pushed it into the paper, right at 68 Aspen Street.

"You really think this’ll help? It won’t."

“Shut up,” Schneep muttered. “You are not here now, Jackie. You are somewhere else. And I will find you, and bring you back. I…” He leaned his head against the wall. “I promise.”
.............................................................................................

JJ lost track of time in the library. He meant to only stay there until twelve, but when he next checked the time on his phone, it was 1:30. He immediately cleaned up, reshelving the books. He had to be sure to do it himself. After all, these weren’t normal books. They were spell books, hidden in part of the library’s reference section for any magician to use if they wished. Well, as long as the magician was registered with the ABIM, since they were the people who allowed someone to see through the concealing ward around the books.

He was…tired. He’d spent about of of his time practicing the spells he read about, hidden in a nook on the second floor of the library. And four and a half hours of consistent magic use was…draining. But it didn’t matter. He had more to do.

A short drive later, JJ parked in the driveway of a familiar house. He grabbed the tupperware container he’d had sitting in the car since he left that morning, climbed out, walked up to the threshold, and rang the doorbell. A short while later, the door was opened…by seemingly nobody. JJ looked down. “Oh. Hello, Michelle.”

“Hi Uncle JJ,” Michelle said. “Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.”

“No, I-I know.” JJ tried to smile. It came out smaller than he intended. Of course Jackie wasn’t here. “I’m looking for your ren.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michelle darted back into the room, leaving the door open. “Ren! Uncle JJ is here! He wants to see you!”

JJ walked inside. The living room looked the same as ever. Except for the coat rack by the door. The white coat hanging from one of its hooks had a bit more dust.

Rama appeared from down the hallway. “Thanks for getting the door, Michelle,” they said, ruffling their daughter’s hair. Then they looked up at JJ. “Good to see you again, Jameson.”

“Good to see you too,” Jameson nodded. He showed off the tupperware container he was holding. “I made cake. Thought you’d want some.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Rama brushed a strand of their hair behind their ear. They hadn’t been wearing the red beanie they used to lately. “C’mon, let’s go in the kitchen.”

Jameson nodded. He shut the door behind him and followed Rama to the house’s kitchen. He set the container on the counter while Rama pulled open the silverware drawer and took out a couple forks. “Here,” they handed one to JJ.

“Oh, no, I mean thank you, but I-I already have some at home,” Jameson stammered. “This is for you.”

Rama nodded, putting one of the forks back. They peeled the lid off the tupperware and took out one of the slices inside, putting it on a plate already sitting on the counter. “So. Is this the part of the visit where you ask me how we’re doing?”

Jameson paused. “It can be.”

“Well…I guess we’re as okay as possible.” Rama plunged the fork into the cake slice. “Nothing much has changed since you last visited. Which I appreciate, by the way, you checking in.”

“It’s no problem.” Jameson smiled sadly.

Rama chuckled. There were dark bags under their dark eyes. “Does Michelle still say the same thing when she opens the door?”

“Yes,” Jameson said softly. ‘Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.’ “How is she?”

“I don’t know.” Rama shook their head. “I’m worried about her, you know. The effect this could have on her, especially if…” They stop. They’d been toying with a part of the cake slice, and they finally put it in their mouth. They swallowed visibly. “The police aren’t giving us updates anymore. The last time they showed up, the detective lady said that, statistically, the longer someone is missing, the more likely it is that they’re…” They trailed off. Then they shook their head, a determined set to their face. “Jackieboy is a fighter. He’s always been tougher than people give him credit for, including himself.”

“He really is.” Jameson nodded in agreement. “People often mistake kindness for weakness. But he’s not weak at all.”

Rama looked…reassured by that. They looked down at their cake slice. “Did you know…that his birthday was last week?”

Jameson was silent for a moment. “..yes,” he whispered. July 10th.

Rama nodded, as if that’s all they wanted. “Well, thank you for the cake.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure you have much else to do today.”

He did, but that didn’t matter. “I can stay longer, if you want.”

“No, no, you go ahead,” Rama waved. “This has been nice, and…and thank you.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jameson headed for the door. “Anything else you need?”

Rama smiled. “No. That’s enough.”

Jameson nodded, and without anything else, he left.

Once outside, he leaned back against the closed door and let out a long, long breath. It felt like there was something pressing down on his spine, making his head want to dip forward. Or maybe it was on his head itself. Or somewhere inside it. But he couldn’t let it happen. He had more to do. It was 1:52, he only had three and a half hours left before rehearsal. Plenty of time for his last visit, but maybe once that was done he could squeeze in another bout of studying. Maybe he could find some sort of spell that would lighten someone’s mood, if only for a little. Or a potion, that would be better. He could learn how potions work, if it could help them. He could do it. He could do it.

Jameson bit back a yawn as he got back in the car. It wouldn’t be too far a drive.

Fifteen minutes later, JJ was knocking on the door to Schneep’s apartment. There was no answer. He waited for another minute, then knocked again. He heard something fall over. “Um…Henrik? Are you doing okay in there?”

The door opened. Schneep was standing in the doorway, his hair wild, his shirt rumpled and with some sort of spill staining the blue material. He was wearing one of his electrical gloves, the ones that would shock someone upon contact, and judging by the wide-eyed look on his face, he was prepared to use it. But he relaxed a bit upon seeing Jameson. “Oh. Is you.”

“Yes, it’s me.” JJ tried to peer around Schneep into the apartment. “Can I come in?”

Schneep muttered something, but stood aside, letting Jameson enter.

JJ paused, taking in the map and pins on the wall. “That’s…new,” he said slowly.

“I am trying a new approach to finding things,” Schneep explained. “What are you doing here?”

Jameson spun to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing here? Why are you here? What is your point?” Schneep pressed. “I am having many visitors today, first Anti, then you. What is it? Are you two having a plan?”

“Whoa, hang on, slow down.” JJ raised his hands. “I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t seen you in…in a while, now. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well. I am doing fine, so you can go now.” Schneep turned his back to Jameson, walking up to the map. “Shut it.”

“I…I don’t think I said anything?” Jameson said, confused.

Schneep shook his head. “I know. Anyway, you can go now.”

Jameson stayed where he was. “Henrik…” His voice was soft. “Did you sleep…at all, recently?”

“What is with you people asking me that?!” Schneep suddenly yelled, pounding his fist against the wall. “I am fine!”

“That wasn’t my question.” Jameson approached Schneep, stopping within arm’s length. “You…you don’t look good.”

Schneep blinked idly. Dark circles, pale skin, a bit thin…it wasn’t a pretty picture. “Wie spät ist es?” He asked.

“I…I don’t know what you just said,” JJ confessed. “What is spät?”

“What time is it?” Schneep clarified.

Jameson looked at the wall-mounted clock. “It’s ten past two.”

Schneep’s eyes widened briefly, but then he covered it up. “I see.”

“Did you wake up early?” Jameson pressed. “Or…did you not go to sleep at all?”

“You also look like you did not sleep well, what does it matter?” Schneep’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment. “Nein.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, that doesn’t matter,” Jameson said dismissively. “Schneep, are you okay?”

His eyes flicked to the side again. “I am fine, you do not need to keep asking. Perhaps I am tired, but that is all. I have been drinking coffee, it is fine.”

“Of course you have,” Jameson muttered under his breath. “Henrik, you should really go to sleep. Take a nap.”

“I can’t.” Schneep looked at the map. “I am working on things.”

“They’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You do not know that.”

That was…an odd reaction. “Of course I do.” JJ tried for a laugh. “Things don’t just disappear.”

Schneep didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the map while occasionally flickering to the side, as if he was seeing something move in his peripheral vision.

Jameson stepped forward and placed his hand on Schneep’s shoulder. “Henrik—”

Schneep suddenly screamed. He grabbed Jameson by the wrist, still wearing his electric glove. The shock it sent through Jameson’s body was enough to stun him, so he couldn’t react when Schneep then flipped him over. He landed on the ground with an oof-inducing thump, his head solidly hitting the back of the sofa. He slumped, dazed.

“Mein Gott, Jameson, I-I am sorry!” Schneep was still standing, hand covering his mouth. He pulled off the electric glove and threw it over to the desk, where it landed. “I-I did not mean—! I thought—Jackie—”

“Jackie…?” Jameson sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “What about Jackie?”

“I-I-I—” Schneep was shaking. “I thought he touched me! I thought it was mehr als ein Schatten! I—!”

“Henrik.” Jameson climbed to his feet, using the sofa as support. “Jackie’s not here.”

And Schneep suddenly started crying. “I know that! I know he is not here, but he is! A-and I do not want—! I do not want to stop seeing him!”

Jameson shook his head, bewildered. “Henrik, what are you talking about?”

Schneep buried his face in his hands. “I have been forgetting medication recently, it is making everything confusing!”

“You’re on medication? Hey, it’s okay.” Schneep had fallen to the floor, landing hard on his knees. Jameson knelt beside him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help. What’s wrong?”

Schneep grabbed Jameson’s arm. “I did not tell you,” he gasped in between tears. “I d-do not tell anyone. I told Marvin one time, I-I thought he would understand. I do not want anyone to thi-think the worst of me. I would never hurt anyone! Th-these things I see are not dangerous! He knows, the Distorter knows, he pokes fun at me, likes to make his illusions because he knows reality is alrea—sometimes I cannot tell—!”

“Hey, calm down, take deep breaths. I’ll do it with you. In for four…hold for seven…out for eight…in…hold…out…in…hold…out…” It took a few minutes for Schneep to get calm. Once he was fine, Jameson asked, “So…you take some kind of medication?”

Schneep nodded.

“And without it, you see things?”

Another nod.

“And you’ve been forgetting it, so you’re seeing Jackie?”

And another.

“Alright. I understand now.” Jameson nodded. “Henrik…there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” Schneep whispered. “But I am worried others do not know that. That they will think I am…” He trailed off.

“Well, I think you’re a good person. You’re smart, and stubborn, and sarcastic, and…other adjectives that begin with S.” Jameson smiled when that got a laugh out of Schneep. “And this doesn’t change any of that.”

Tears started to gather in Schneep’s eyes again. He buried his face in Jameson’s shirt.

“See? It’s okay. It’s all okay.” For a moment they were silent. Then Jameson said, “I think you should go to bed now. But not before taking that medication you’ve been missing.”

Schneep nodded. “Stay with me, a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

He had time to.
.............................................................................................

Jameson arrived at the theatre for rehearsal. He had not been expecting to spend an extra two hours at Schneep’s apartment, but he wasn’t about to leave while his friend was upset. Even if that friend had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes and hadn’t shown any signs of waking up in all the two hours he was there.

Jameson paused before entering the theatre, leaning against the wall. A few deep breaths. He was tired. God, he was tired. The weight was pressing down, not on his spine or his head, but directly on his mind. But he had to go to rehearsal. Everyone was expecting him. He couldn’t skip one. He couldn’t let down all the crew members that needed to run through everything. And if they missed one, that could delay the show and disappoint the audience. He couldn’t do that. He had to show up. Run through the show. It was only another three hours. He could do it.

It was not encouraging when his stage manager Darla greeted him with a “Where have you been?! You’re ten minutes late!”

“Things came up,” Jameson said. “Now are we ready to start?”

“Yeah, of course.” Darla nodded. “You left your cape and mask here last time, we brought them out, check with Ryan.”

“Got it.” He…hadn’t actually realized he’d left his mask and cape at the theatre. Well it was a good thing the others had found it, and he hadn’t had to drive back home, look for it, not find it, only to drive back and find his stuff already here. He would hate to waste everyone’s time.

Things went smoothly for the first hour. But it was when they all reconvened after a ten-minute break that things started to turn for the worse. For whatever reason, the lights wouldn’t work, and the techies took twenty minutes to figure out the problem. Just when they thought it was fixed, the main spotlight flickered and died. “It’s fine, we’ll just run it without that one,” Jameson said, sighing. He blinked, lingering in the darkness for a while, before opening them and returning to the busy world.

Then he was having trouble remembering his planned lines. True, being a magician didn’t involve nearly as much memorization as being a stage actor, but it was still more than most people thought. Not to mention, it often involved more timing, as you had to get the line to match up perfectly with the trick or it loses all dramatic effect.

Oh yes, the tricks. Jameson’s tricks were a clever combination of real magic and stage magic, a fine balance between the two. Of course, the crew didn’t know about the REAL magic. They just thought it was some wonderful light tricks and digital effects. So when they magic came out strained, because Jameson had spent three hours trying out new spells earlier that day and was a little lower on energy, that meant the rehearsal was delayed for an entire half hour while the crew tried to fix technical devices that didn’t actually work. Guilt was curdling in Jameson’s stomach. He was making everyone stay late.

And indeed, the time was 8:23 pm and it didn’t look like the rehearsal was anywhere close to being finished. Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears start to well. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Sure, he was tired and his head felt heavy with the events of the day. It didn’t matter. These things weren’t important. What was important was everyone else’s thoughts and feelings. Not his.

“Alright, one more time!” Darla called out. “Start from the levitation trick!”

That trick was…well, tricky. Levitation magic didn’t come naturally to him. Jameson took a deep breath, adjusted his mask, and shouted, “Ready!”

The objects he was levitating—just wooden cubes for now, probably to be replaced with something else in the actual show—were placed on the tables around the stage. Jameson blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying to focus. He chanted the words under his breath, feeling the strain of magic. Like trying to stretch a barely-used muscle after you’d already been working out for half an hour. Focus. Concentrate. Watch the blue magic float around the target, watch them wobble, then lift, slowly, trembling in the air—

“It snapped!”

“Backdrop’s coming down!”

“Watch out!”

The shouts snapped him out of concentration, sending the cubes crashing to the ground. Jameson whirled around to see the painted backdrop crashing down as well, landing just a few feet from him. He stared at it where it landed. The shouts of the crew members faded into buzzing background noise.

He could fix this.

He could fix it, he could help.

It was alright.

It was fine, he could help.

He could—

He felt his heart burning cold.

Tears slipped from his eyes, from under his mask, only to freeze the moment they left his face, shattering on the floor.

The buzzing background noise was growing louder, louder, it was a storm inside his head, thoughts whirling in a whiteout of feelings he couldn’t name, he was tired, he was so so tired, tired of this, tired of everything—

A blizzard exploded on the stage.

Wind howled, blue chips of cold magic swirling around him in a storm, a storm, a storm. Beneath his feet the wood of the stage groaned as the temperature dropped, glowing icicles of freezing magic jabbing from the ground. He’d fallen to his hands and knees. All he could see was blue and white and blue and white and blue and white—

Someone was shouting. He was vaguely aware of the sound through the screaming gales in his mind. The magic storm swirled taller, reaching the lights above and freezing their bulbs until they burst.

Someone was in front of him. He could see their shape in the fog of the magic flakes. They grabbed him by the arms, started shaking. He didn’t respond. Just stared. Tears were still slipping down, freezing his mask to his face.

Slowly, a voice started to pierce the winds. “—Jems! You can’ keep t’is up, you’ll hurt someone! Yourself, too! Jems! Look at me!”

Jameson’s eyes focused on the someone in front of him. A familiar face. Marvin. “Are you alrigh’, Jems?” he asked.

And Jameson shook his head.

“What’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He shook his head again. How was he supposed to say so much? How was he supposed to explain about how he was being crushed? Crushed first by Jackie going missing, by Distorter being out there and ready to fuck with them at any time, and the other magicians wouldn’t or couldn’t help, so he had to do it on his own, he had to make sure his friends were safe from this creature, he had to learn some way to keep him at bay, and he had to be there for everyone else, had to listen to all their problems, had to make breakfast in the morning after Marvin had another nightmare, had to bring food and anything that could help to Rama and Michelle who’d just lost a husband and a father who might not come back, had to figure out what was wrong with Anti, had to check on Schneep because he was in danger of working himself to death while being attacked by his own mind, he had to do all this and it was crushing him, it was killing him, he couldn’t handle everyone’s problems as well as his own, couldn’t hold their grief and his too, but it didn’t matter didn’t matter shouldn’t matter should it matter? couldn’t matter in the face of all—

Oh. Oh, Marvin was hugging him. He was shivering, in the face of this cold storm coming from Jameson, but he was still hugging him. There was frost forming on his jacket, but he wasn’t leaving.

Jameson leaned his head on Marvin’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend. His shoulders started to shake. But the storm died down, ice covering the stage melted into nothing. Things were warm again.

“We’re goin’ to go home,” Marvin said in a voice that left no room for argument. “We’re goin’ to go home. And we’ll relax tonight, and tomorrow, too.”

Jameson started to shake his head. He couldn’t let Marvin worry about him—

“Yes, we are.” Marvin stood up, still holding Jameson close. “You do a lot for others, Jems. Let someone else do somet’ing for you.”

That…that sounded really nice. Jameson grabbed the fabric of Marvin’s jacket, clinging to it. He nodded.

“Alrigh’. Let’s go. C’mon, one step at a time.”

One step at a time.

They took the bus back, since Marvin wouldn’t let JJ drive. Once home, Marvin tried to cook. He did better than expected. They turned on the television in the living room, with Marvin in his usual chair and JJ lying on the sofa, underneath a blanket. The cat took the opportunity to fall asleep on him. And eventually, JJ found he was drifting off as well.

Maybe…maybe it did matter.

Maybe he should let it matter.

JJ fell asleep, feeling warmer now knowing that there would be others still there when he woke up.

Part Fourteen of the Inverted AU
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a fic series I wrote from December 2018 to August 2021. Anti makes one more effort to get Jack to remember the truth.]
.............................................................................................

Jack opened his eyes to a hospital waiting room. Pretty generic place, white walls with blue chairs and a single reception desk pressed against the wall, all lit up by a row of yellow-white florescent lights. He didn’t recognize it at all. For a moment, he just stood in the middle of the room, confused, until it clicked. “Another dream, huh?” he sighed. “Well, where are you? I know you’re here.”

The room was eerily silent for a moment. Then it was broken with an electric-sounding SNAP. The lights overhead flickered, and so did the room, becoming nothing but a void for a moment. When everything came back, Jack was no longer alone. Anti was there. Jack’s mirror image, but darker, with his patch and his scarf as always. “Well?” he asked.

“How many times do we need to go through this?” Jack said, frustration evident in his voice. “I’m fucking sick of these dreams!”

“We’re going to ‘go through this’ as many times as we need to.” Anti folded his arms. “Until you realize the truth.”

“I’m not going to let you brainwash me,” Jack responded automatically. He looked around. “Why do you choose these locations, anyway? First time was a classroom, then a creepy house, then some sort of future place, and on and on.”

“I DON'T choose these places,” Anti countered. “Not really. I just pluck out locations that have been on your mind lately. Because that’s r͟idi͞culoųsl͠y easy to do and it’s something you should rea̴ll͝y͏ w̧o̶rk ͟oņ. Given that you’ve been doing n̴ot͢h̴ing͡ but playing video games for the last two years, I’d say that’s where this comes from.”

It…did sort of remind Jack of that one game he played yesterday, Exiles. But that was beside the point. “Okay, whatever. Fine. Look, I’m not really feeling up to this right now, can we reschedule for another day?” He laughed nervously. The air was full of static and he…actually, he DIDN'T feel on edge. Which…that was probably a problem.

“Feeling quippy today?” Anti remarked. He took a step closer to Jack, who took a step backward in turn. “That hasn’t been like you lately, has it? What day is it again?” One of the nearby walls flickered and fizzed like a screen, eventually showing a digital calendar. Anti didn’t look over at it, just seeming to know what it says. “Oh, that day, huh? It’s almost like I planned this to happen on the day when that s̡t͞upid̕ ̧fuckin̨g spe̢ll would be at its weakest right before it’s renewed and that’s why you’re actually acting like yourself.”

“What spell?”

Anti looked away, closing his eye and taking a deep breath. “Look, Jack, I’m running out of patience quickly. Nearly two fucking years with no progress, and you’d be too. So. I’m not going to try and convince you that I’m not trying to brainwash you. I’m not going to try and convince you that the people you think are your fri̧e͞nd̷ş are as bad as you think I am. I’m just going to ask you to do one thing.” He opened his eye, looking at Jack and taking another step forward. Jack, strangely, didn’t feel the urge to step back. “Tomorrow. Whenever they ask you to do something. Don’t.”

“I…” This was…different. Actually, Anti in his dreams had always been different than his memories told him he should be. A bit less…homicidal. “Why should I do anything you say? You could just be tricking me! Again!”

“I could,” he said calmly. “But do you think I am?”

“Yes.” The response was automatic.

“No.” Suddenly Anti was in front of him, clasping his shoulders with his hands. “Don’t just blurt out an answer. Think about what you want to say for a second, then tell me.”

“Why would I—”

“D̷o ̢i̴t͡.”

Jack instantly opened his mouth for a comeback, but hesitated. The glitch wanted to try and get to him? Fine, he’d stop and think and prove him wrong when he still answered the same. Did he think Anti was going to trick him? Going to brainwash him, like the monster he knew he was? Jack stared at him. He didn’t…look particularly menacing. Strange, yes, with his unblinking eye and the white noise that fizzed off of him at seemingly random intervals. But did he seem hostile? …not really.

“I—I need to wake up now.” Jack pulled Anti’s hands off his shoulders and backed away. “I don’t—don’t know what’s—”

“Before you do that.” Anti tilted his head. “Let me just…you might hate me more for this.”

“Wh—”

Anti lunged forward, grabbing Jack’s head on either side. The empty room was suddenly filled with white noise. Jack gasped at the sensation of static bolting through his head, like an electric prod to the mind. The room around them disintegrated, becoming nothing more than snaps of transferred signals and neurons running amok. For a moment Jack wondered if this was how Anti saw everything.

Then he shot upright in bed. He was panting heavily, soaked in sweat and uncomfortably warm. His head was pounding, each thump of pain sending an electric sensation through his temples. He looked around the dark room, eyes catching on the clock reading 6 in the morning. Early. But he didn’t think he could go back to sleep. He was too hot. So he flung the covers off and swung over to the side of the bed, where he sat with his chin in his hands and stared at nothing.

He noticed something odd. When he thought back to the dream, when he thought about Anti, it wasn’t accompanied by his usual memories of all that Anti had done. Even though he’d been told, so many times, about every time Anti had tried to kill him or worse, he could only remember the telling and not the actual occurrences. It wasn’t like the memories were suddenly missing. More like they never existed in the first place.
.............................................................................................

When Jack went downstairs for breakfast two hours later, he’d decided to not think about the dream. Anti had confronted him there often enough, ever since…some months ago. He couldn’t remember the exact details. But that was fine. It didn’t matter.

He popped into the kitchen. Chase and Jameson were already up, with Chase still in his pajamas and Jameson fully dressed, both sitting at the table. “Mornin’, Jack,” Chase said.

Jack nodded, opening the bread box and putting a couple slices in the toaster. He leaned on the counter and silently waited.

{Jack.} Jameson’s mental voice. {Are you quite alright?}

“…yeah,” Jack said. “I just…had another dream.”

Chase’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, damn. That’s not good.”

“I know, Chase. I know. I don’t want him in my head any more than you do.” Except that last night, Anti hadn’t really done much. He…never really did much, actually. Just tried to talk to him, to persuade him to leave the others. A part of Jack pointed out that this was because Anti was trying to convert him, and besides, letting Anti have access could never be a good thing, even if he hadn’t done anything yet. And most of Jack agreed with that part, but…something was wrong.

{You look rather worse for wear, my good sir,} Jameson said. {If you wish, I could…perhaps try to give you some advantage? Try to give you some mental defense. I’m sure I could find a way to do that. What do you say?}

His first instinct was to agree, but when he opened his mouth to say yes, the words didn’t come out. Strangely, his mind flashed back to Anti’s dream appearance. He’d asked him to not agree to anything. And though he knew it was super stupid to listen to anything Anti said…Jack didn’t feel wary of him. Not like he usually did. Why not…try a little bit? See what happened. “I’m not sure, JJ,” Jack said. “I’ve been getting along pretty well so far. He hasn’t managed to do anything yet.”

{But that doesn’t mean he can’t,} Jameson argued. {He could be just biding his time, working to slowly corrupt you. I can help prevent that.}

The toast popped up. Jack didn’t say anything as he took it, got a plate, and buttered it. He was too busy considering the facts. He was all of a sudden more trusting of Anti. That reeked of some sort of mind manipulation. But at the same time, this didn’t feel like the bad decision. In fact, it felt…right. Like he’d finally remembered a word that was on the tip of his tongue. After a moment more of internal arguing, Jack shook his head and said, “No, not yet. Maybe in the future. But not today.”

Jameson nodded. {If that’s what you want.}

Chase raised his hand slightly. “I call ‘we told you so’ rights if this all goes south.”

“Well, ask me again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll feel better about it then.”

“Fine, fine. I just…” Chase stopped for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me in the span of one day.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you never know.” Chase and Jameson looked at each other.
.............................................................................................

Jackie walked in just as Jack was finishing his breakfast, looking half-asleep with his hair a mess and his dark red hoodie thrown on over his pajama pants. “Hey, dude,” he yawned. “Any plans for today?”

Jack shrugged. “Thinking about checking out some asks, then going back to the grindstone.”

“More videos?”

“I mean, I want to stock up in case I get sick or something, you know?”

“Hm, makes sense.” Jackie rummaged around in the cabinets, pulling out a box of cereal. “Remember when you got sick in March? Bet you were pretty happy you had some material prerecorded.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “Pretty happy.” He covered up the fact that he didn’t remember that at all. How long ago was March? Just two months, right? But why was he thinking of another March, farther away? “I’m gonna go up and do that now.”

“Cool. Have fun, dude.”

Back in his computer room, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole day was somehow off. More so than the dreams usually put him off. He felt not entirely connected to anything, like he was just a guest in the house instead of someone who lived here. Maybe he should have taken Jameson up on his offer; there’s a chance that could have helped. He sighed, and sat down at his computer. Just forget about it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

And then, the first thing he saw when he booted up his blog so he could interact with the fans, was a simple question: “Hey Jack, are you okay? Mentally, I mean”. What was that supposed to mean? Of course he was. Yeah, he was a little tired, but that could be from the dream last night. He replied quickly, then went to browse the rest of the website to see what the community was up to. He’d wait for more questions to come in.

A lot of the normal fare. Fan art and a lot of memes. But then he came across something else. A post titled “Jack isn’t doing so good”. He snorted, then started reading, expecting a conspiracy theory or a theory for whatever the viewers thought he had going on with Anti. Instead, he found a very different sort of beast. The post had a couple screenshots of him from his videos, each one identified as coming from two years ago. Then screenshots from recent videos. The post went on to say that Jack was looking a lot worse than he was years ago. The author compared them, pointing out the paler skin, the suddenly more gaunt facial features, and most importantly, the distinct lack of any real happiness in the recent videos.

Well, that couldn’t be right. He was a lot better now! Life kept improving, didn’t it? And even if it wasn’t he had to stay positive! For the community. And for his friends. He couldn’t let them down by suddenly taking a break.

And there was no way those earlier pictures were two whole years ago. He remembered the videos they were identified as coming from, those were only a few months old. Last year. They were from before he moved here, and he’d only celebrated one new year in this house. They didn’t have much of a celebration, though, but he did remember watching the digital clock on his computer switch over from…from…it switched to…

What year was it?

The realization hit him with so much force that he physically leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t remember what the year was. He tried to concentrate on it, but it kept slipping away into a haze of purple fog. How could he not know the year?

Jack straightened, clicking away from the website he was currently on and over to his own YouTube channel. He clicked on the last upload, scrolling down to the description and checking the upload date. 2018. It was 2018. Right.

Well, while he was here, he might as well prove to himself that the post was wrong about the dates. He searched up the name of one of the videos the post had taken screenshots from, then also checked the upload date. It—it was in 2016. That…that wasn’t possible. He’d uploaded that one in his old apartment, just before he moved to the house with the others. That was only a couple months ago. He double-checked using a couple other videos from the same period. No, they were all the same. How…how had he not known that?

It was fine. Just forget it.

He switched back over to the first website. A couple more questions had come in, most telling him to stay positive. He assured the askers that he would. But there were…a couple people worried about him. But he was fine. So he told them as much.

Another question asked about when the next Anti appearance would be. Jack sighed. As if he had any control over what that glitch did or when he decided to hijack his videos. Anti always sort of did his own thing.

He stopped his train of thought there. Thinking about Anti had brought a sort of…warm feeling. Like…fondness. What? Why?

It was probably {a result of the dream last night.} Maybe he should {have taken Jameson’s offer.} He was standing up and walking toward the door before he stopped suddenly. No, he couldn’t drop everything and go talk to the others right now. He hadn’t even gotten a video out yet. {But this seemed more important.} …did it? Did it?

Just a few more minutes. Jack turned around, very deliberately walking back to his computer and taking his seat. He’d gotten more questions. One read “You use a lot of ‘it’s fine’ when you respond to these. Usually that’s covering up the fact that things aren’t actually fine. Are you sure you’re okay? Sorry, I don’t mean to pry”.

He didn’t say “it’s fine” that much. Did he? {It didn’t matter, it’s fine.} Jack jolted as he realized he’d just thought it. He scrolled through a few of his responses. There…actually WAS a lot of repeating “it’s fine.” That was…weird.

It was fine. Just forget it.

But it wasn’t. He wasn’t even aware he repeated himself that much, shouldn’t he be at least a little concerned?

It was fine. Just forget it.

But here he was, thinking the same things, pushing away the problem. That was a bad thing, wasn’t it? Bottling up emotions. They could explode.

{It was fine. Just forget it.}

But…something was wrong. Something had been wrong since the dream. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized the lingering sense of things being not quite normal had been around him for a while. But drowned out, hidden in his own thoughts.

{It was fine. Forget it.}

But it couldn’t be.

{It was fine. Forget about it.}

No, it wasn’t.

{It was fine. Forget about it.} {It’s fine} {Forget} {It’s fine} {Forget} {Forget} {Forget forget FORGET FORGET—

Jack screamed, throwing himself out of the chair and landing sprawled on the floor. His eyes were squeezed shut, arm flung over them, but that didn’t make the lingering purple at the edge of his vision go away. Everything was spinning, spiraling. He felt dizzy. But the memories—the real memories—were coming back. Flashbulbs exploding in the back of his mind, images so much more vivid than the fog he’d been living in for—FOR TWO YEARS.

Jack opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “I remember,” he gasped. “I remember what they did to me.”

The others—bits and pieces were falling into place. Like when he’d once seen a news report of that vigilante on TV and realized this guy looked a lot like Jackie. Or when he’d come downstairs late at night for a midnight snack and heard Chase and Schneep in the living room, casually talking about how Chase had shot someone and knocked them out, and Schneep had taken them from there. Or when he ran into the “cleaning lady” and she hadn’t said anything, just stared at him with this glassy-eyes smile until Jameson came and took her away. Or when he’d fallen asleep on the couch, only to be woken up by the muffled sound of screams that he’d thought had come from downstairs, at a time when only Marvin was still awake.

Bits and pieces that had been casually swept under the rug the moment the others realized he knew. Because he couldn’t be allowed to find out. He’d run to the police, and they’d lose—Jack suddenly realized just how many online campaigns circled through the community about missing members.

A sick feeling suddenly rose up inside him, and he swallowed hard to keep it down. Anti was right—these people were as bad as he’d thought the glitch was. If not worse.

Anti.

They’d made him hate him.

And Anti had still tried to get him back. To break the spell.

Jack scrambled to his feet, head spinning as he looked around. The recording room was completely soundproof. He’d thought it was so that he didn’t bother the others when he yelled, but maybe it was so he couldn’t hear anything going on in the rest of the house. This fucking house. He had to get out.

Jack practically ran to the door, flinging it open. Nobody was in the hallway beyond. Good, because if they’d noticed him, panicky and shaking, they might have caught on. He’d have to proceed carefully. The last times he’d found out, they always noticed he’d remembered and put him back under. So he had to pretend that everything was…fine. He leaned against the door frame and took deep breaths until he was sure he at least looked calm. Then he started down the hall toward the stairs.

The living room was empty except for Chase, who was lying on the couch and scrolling through something on his phone. The windows showed a twilit world outside. It was already evening. When did it get so late? Jack shook his head, eyeballing the front door. He was extremely tempted to just run for it, but Chase was still there. He could put a stop to this easily. So Jack simply walked across the room. “Hey Chase, I’m going for a walk,” he said. “I’ve been inside all day, need some fresh air.”

Chase glanced up. “Cool, bro. I’ll come with you.”

A flurry of scared butterflies twisted Jack’s stomach. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“You sure? I mean, you’ve been alone all day, too, some company could do you good.” Chase pocketed the phone and stood up, stretching.

The movement drew Jack’s attention to the—since when did Chase have a gun?! That was illegal in this country. No sooner had Jack thought this than he was assaulted by a series of memories, previous times he’d noticed the gun until Chase asked Jameson if he could somehow make Jack ignore it altogether. He could. From then on, Jack’s eyes had merely skipped over it.

Jack pushed himself back on track. Sure, gun was a problem, but it wouldn’t be if he could get out of here without Chase following. “I mean, I appreciate the gesture,” he said, making sure his voice sounded perfectly casual. “But I don’t really feel like talking right now.”

Chase smiled. “Bro, we don’t have to talk at all, just hang out. I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to. Just want to keep you company, haven’t seen you all day, y’know?” Obviously assuming Jack was going to agree, he walked right up to him. “So? Should we go?”

Jack was ninety percent sure Chase could see his pulse, his heart was beating so fast. Pushing the issue further would definitely raise Chase’s suspicions, but he couldn’t let him follow. There had to be a way out… “Sure. Let’s go,” Jack said, smiling.

When Chase turned to walk toward the door, Jack’s hand darted forward. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun and pulled it out of its holster. Chase froze at the sudden lack of a familiar weight, and when he turned around Jack was pointing the gun at him. “Wh—Jack, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Sorry, Chase,” Jack said. “Well. No, not really. Because I’m getting the fuck out of here.” He started backing toward the front door, never turning away from Chase.

“What do you—?” Chase’s eyes widened. “You know.”

“I know that I’ve been magically brainwashed and tricked into thinking this is normal when I’m actually living in a house with a bunch of people who are criminals at the best and multiple murderers at worst? Yeah, no shit!” Jack laughed hysterically. “And now that I know, I know that I’m leaving.”

“No, Jack, please, you don’t understand!” Chase stepped forward, hands half-raised. “It’s not like that!”

“How?! How is it ‘not like that’?!” Jack was only a few feet from the door now.

“Just—just give me a chance to explain! At least listen!” Chase’s eyes were wet with desperation and pleading. “Just please don’t leave. Please don’t.”

“Uh, no, I’m leaving. And you’re gonna stay here, or else…you know!” Jack wasn’t sure he could actually shoot Chase, even in a life-or-mind-control situation. Part of him still saw one of his best friends. And besides, he didn’t know if he had the guts.

“Jack—”

The front door swung open.

Jack stiffened, looking over his shoulder to see Jackie enter the house and immediately freeze in place. He was wearing the same outfit as the vigilante on the news, right down to the sheathed throwing knives on the belt. Jack immediately cursed himself out for that, because of course Jackie would be dressed as the vigilante, the two of them were the same person. “What’s…?” Jackie couldn’t seem to finish the question, eyes darting between Chase, Jack, and the gun.

“Stay back!” Jack backed away, unfortunately ending up further into the house. He kept pointing the gun back and forth between Chase and Jackie. “Just—just let me get out and I won’t—won’t do anything crazy.”

Jackie instantly caught on. “This was always a bad idea,” he hissed at Chase.

“Well, I couldn’t think of a better one!”

“You’re a bit of an idiot at times, you know that?”

“Jackie?” Schneep poked his head through the front door. “What is happening?”

Oh god, that was three of them in one room. Even with a gun, Jack was starting to feel outnumbered. And if Marvin showed up, or even worse, Jameson, then that would be it. Game over. The others were standing between him and the front door, so he couldn’t go out there. Jack took a few steps backwards, down the hall leading to the staircase, then broke out into a run, ignoring the shouts behind him. Maybe he could jump out a window or something. Even from the second story. That would still be better.

{I heard a commotion, everything alright?}

Jack skidded to a halt with a startled yelp. Jameson was standing on the stairs, looking very confused. Jack didn’t even look at him. Don’t take any chances. Don’t take any chances with forgetting. But with Jameson on the stairs, there wasn’t really anywhere else to go except—

Fuck. Fine, he’d take it. He darted to the left, towards a closed door. Flinging it open, he saw a short hallway leading to a set of stairs leading down. He heard running footsteps behind him. He didn’t think, just ran. And climbed down, down, down…

He came out into a hallway with a couple doors on either side and one at the end. He remembered the first on the left was the library, better not risk going in there in case Marvin was inside. So he pulled open the first door to the right instead, darting inside the moment the gap was big enough and slamming it closed behind him.

The room he’d ended up in was dark, but he found the light switch easily enough in its usual place next to the door. This place had plain plaster walls and a concrete floor. A single lamp hung from the ceiling. The only furniture were three beds with metal frames and minimal bedding: sheets and a single pillow each. It was empty as of right now, but Jack knew it usually wasn’t. He leaned against the door, holding the gun close. He could hear footsteps and talking outside. Then, the sound of a door opening and the talking turned into two people shouting at each other.

Jack gave the room another glance. It…hadn’t been the best idea to run into the basement. But he’d been panicking, and it was the only place none of them were blocking him from at the time. And now he was stuck here. But he had a gun, and if he was careful he could keep them all from coming inside at the same time. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with those facts.

He was eyeing the bed frames and wondering if he should barricade the door when he heard a knock on it. “Jack…? You in there?”

“No, I disappeared into the shadow world,” Jack growled. “Leave me alone Jackie!”

“Look, I never thought this was a good idea,” Jackie said patiently. “And you have every right to hate us. But you’re, uh, kinda stuck in there. So I think you should at least hear us out.”

“Oh, you never thought this was a good idea, huh? Congratulations, you’re a goddamn saint for still standing by and doing nothing to stop it. I said leave. Me. Alone!”

More quiet talking on the other side of the door. After a while of this, Jack suddenly felt the door giving way behind him. Someone was pulling it open. No! No, they couldn’t—Jack spun around and grabbed the handle, holding the door closed. For a moment, it seemed balanced. Until a sudden burst of energy pulled the door open, just enough for a single person to slip inside. Jack wasted no time in slamming the door closed again before spinning around, aiming the gun at the newcomer, who was now standing further inside the room.

Chase raised his hands. “Jack, please, you don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t want to what?” Jack demanded “Get out? Leave? Or do you mean shoot you? Because the longer this goes on, the more I want to do that third thing.” That was a bluff. Jack still wasn’t sure he wanted to shoot Chase. But he very obviously disengaged the safety on the gun, making sure Chase could see.

Chase exhaled slowly. “Jack. Look. It’s Anti. He’s messing with your head, making you turn against us. I don’t know what false memories he planted in there, but none of them are true. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants you to shoot us and flee, giving him an entrance to swoop in and take you.”

Jack was already shaking his head. “Mm-mmm. No. You use this excuse all the time, then you hand me over to J—to Jameson, on the basis that he’ll help me get mentally stronger, and then I just end up hypnotized out of my mind again.”

“JJ can’t hypnotize people, Jack,” Chase pleaded. “He’s a telepath, nothing more. That’s why he knows a lot about how to mentally defend yourself, but it’s one-way communication. You know this. We’ve told you this so many times. And now you’ve stopped trusting us? How do you even know that whatever new memories you suddenly got are real?”

Jack blinked. “They…they feel right. Like they filled in the missing pieces of a puzzle.”

“But that could be him tricking you into thinking that, right?”

“I…I mean…”

“Right?”

“Y-yeah, I guess,” Jack mumbled.

“And that’s exactly what’s happening!” Chase took a step forward. Jack realized he’d let the gun drop a bit, and quickly raised it again. Chase stopped. “Look, it’s hard to tell what’s real, I get it. But you just have to trust us, Jack. Think about it. How long have we known each other? Years. You’d think you’d pick up on homicidal tendencies in that space of time.”

Jack lowered the gun a bit more. Yes, you would think that. Chase hadn’t ever acted the least bit hostile in all the years he’d known him.

“And now look at whatever memories Anti planted. I bet they show you two really close, but now think about the dreams you’ve had with him. He’s not exactly friendly, is he?”

The gun lowered more. That made sense.

“So it’s not real, Jack. It’s just a trick, an illusion. Please…you just have to remember. We’ll help you.” Chase smiled gently. “That’s what friends are for, right? And we’re friends.”

They were indeed friends. They’d known each other for so long, didn’t Jack owe it to Chase, at least, to hear them out? The gun lowered almost completely. Jack blinked slowly, clearing the spirals from his vision—

Spirals.

He didn’t realize his eyelids were drooping until they snapped open again. No spirals. Spirals were bad, they were what led to losing your will. Jack jerked his head back up from where it had been in the process of falling. {Chase’s} eyes widened, and he rushed forward. Jack screamed “No!” The gun raised, and—

{ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /—}

BANG!

Jack barely managed to get the shot off before his legs decided they didn’t want to support him anymore. He fell to the floor unceremoniously, limp as a puppet whose strings had been cut. The concrete ground was unwelcoming, and his entire right side hurt from the impact of hitting it. His lifeless fingers couldn’t hold on to the gun anymore, and it clattered against the concrete. He couldn’t move. He tried, practically screaming at his limbs to so much as twitch, but there was no response. He was just left staring at Jameson—it had been him the whole time, not Chase, using some sort of mental trick to make Jack think it was him—slumped on the floor against the foot of the middle bed. His expression was vaguely shocked, and his right hand was pressed to the left side of his chest. Underneath it, a steadily spreading stain was dyeing his vest an even darker red.

The door swung open again, this time fully wide. “James—!” Jack watched, head unmoving, as Marvin rushed into the room, stepping right over Jack’s fallen body to kneel next to Jameson. “Were you hit?!” He’d never heard so much…emotion in Marvin’s voice.

Someone sat down next to Jack and shook him. “Hey. Jack? Look at me.” Even if Jack wanted to look at Chase, he absolutely couldn’t. Jameson must have hit him with some sort of desperate mental blast, knocking him out of commission. “Jesus, what happened to you?” Chase muttered. Jack remained limp even as Chase pulled him into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around him like a child holding their favorite teddy bear. Jack’s head lolled to the side.

Jackie and Schneep entered the room next. Or, well, Jackie did. Schneep took one step inside, looked from the bloodstain on Jameson’s vest to Jack’s limp body, then left again, muttering something about getting supplies to fix this. Jackie, meanwhile, gave Jack a quick once-over, determined there was no immediate danger, then crouched on Jameson’s other side. “Did he shoot you? What happened? We heard a shot.”

Jameson shook his head.

“Bull fucking shit he didn’t shoot you!” Marvin half-yelled. “I can see the stain! God, Schneep went to get his materials, didn’t he? If you could just—fuck, this is the first time in forever I wish I still knew how to heal other people—”

Jameson shook his head again, propping himself up further against the bed. He reached inside his vest and pulled out his silver pocket watch. The bullet had lodged in it, stuck on the edge, not quite going through. The watch was covered in blood and…the longer Jack looked at it, the longer it looked like the blood was coming FROM the watch.

Marvin leaned back. “What the fuck, Jameson,” he whisper-gasped.

“Well, I guess it didn’t entirely hit you,” Jackie mused. “But there’s still a whole lot of blood, I wouldn’t be surprised if part of the bullet broke off and lodged in there, or if the impact of the shot pushed the watch back into your chest. What’s it feel like? One small thing, or an impact from a bigger thing?”

No answer. Jameson merely stared at Jackie.

Jackie stared back. “Are you…not going to say anything?”

“It’s the watch,” Marvin explained. “It’s…well. Basically, some of his powers are tied to it.”

“Including the telepathy?” Jackie clarified.

“Ehhh. In a way. It’s…ehh. This isn’t the time. But more importantly—” Marvin glanced over to where Chase was sitting, holding Jack. “A lot of the mind tricks depend on it. So…we’re not gonna be able to put him back under until we manage to heal Jameson and the watch.” Jameson nodded in agreement.

Chase sighed. “Y’know, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” Jack was very conscious that Chase was holding him tighter. He wanted to scream at him to let go, but his vocal cords were not responding.

Schneep walked back into the room carrying a small bag. “I did not know the extent of everything so I brought a basic kit,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the ground across from Jameson. Jameson, in turn, shook his head and pointed urgently over to Jack. “Oh? You think that is more important? Well, if you insist.” Schneep spun around. “What seems to be the problem here?”

“Looks like wakeful doll paralysis,” Marvin muttered. “Magick thing. Don’t quite get it, but James has talked about it before. Basically, you shoot a bunch of mental noise at someone and they go limp, but are still awake and aware. See? Jack’s eyes are moving. It’ll wear off in anywhere from an hour to a day, depending on…I dunno that part. Probably strength of the something-or-other.”

Schneep frowned. “Well, that does not seem to be such a problem, if it wears off.”

Jameson sighed. He pulled the medical bag toward him, searched around in it, then pulled out a syringe and handed it to Schneep, whose eyes suddenly lit up with understanding. “Ah, we are talking about the sleepy times now. I see, I see.”

Marvin hissed. “Okay, do that quick, then, there are more important things to be doing right now.”

Jackie made a strange strangled squawk. “I’m gonna—I’ll just—I gotta go. Back out on patrol, I barely even started. Henrik, you have to go back to the clinic too, now that you found the bag. Uh. Yeah.” Without another word, he stood up and left.

“What was that about?” Schneep asked, staring after him.

“Oh, well, Jackie’s righteousness strikes again.” Chase shrugged. “Not a fan of the whole…thing here. But there’s not another way. Is there, Jack?” He pulled Jack closer to him, causing his head to roll forward. “You’re gonna keep leaving. And you—you can’t just abandon your friends, you know? You can’t just—just leave people who are already…I’ll explain everything. I promise. You’ll see that this was the only way.”

Jack very much seriously doubted that.

“Yes, yes, you will have some time to explain while we fix Jameson,” Schneep brushed aside. “But for right now, we cannot have him in the way.”

Because of the position of his head, Jack didn’t see the needle coming before it was suddenly pushed into his neck. Only a few moments passed before everything started to blur and swim, dark waters surrounding his vision.

Before the darkness consumed his sight, he wondered if there was a way out of this. He wondered if Anti would know what happened. And he wondered what the glitch would do with these new developments.