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.]
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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.
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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.
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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.