Kevin the Bored
patreon
24 Don't Trust Strangers
🕑 Added 2024-01-01 01:23:44 +0000 UTCUnknown Location
November 11th, 16:00
///
The sound of soft breathing can be heard inside of a large, twelve sided room. Each wall of the room houses a large open arch that serves as a window to a sight most dazzling. The world seems to be that of a painting, an inky, undulating blackness only interspersed with occasional flecks of light and bursts of transient kaleidoscopic light, flickering in and out of sight like tongues of fire.
Like the room itself is the only thing that exists in the entire universe; a captivating sight.
The arches themselves, as well as the walls holding them are carved with intricate engravings of Nordic design, all in golden filigree, all leading up to a great mural stretching the entire ceiling.
The painting depicts what at first glance seems to be an immense battle, with no clear sides. Just a grand melee. Except, upon closer inspection, what is depicted is no war. The men do not fight, they dance. They do not wield weapons of war but instruments of song. Their spilled guts simply snack for the magnificent party.
It is a scene of madness, and in the centre of it all, lays a lone round table. Around the table, sixteen beings sit, none of them human. Some are animals, alligators, house cats. Some are more abstract polygons and formless shapes, ideas given shape. The only thing they all have in common, is how they drink merrily from teacups filled with a blood-red liquid.
Hanging from the centre of the ceiling is a grand chandelier of shining crystals, lit up by the warmth of a dozen candles.
Further below, is a table, exactly as depicted within the mural. The centre being a circle of pure gold, bleeding off into golden filigree that dances into the shapes of nature, the engravings covering most of the table bringing about the feeling of a pretty garden.
Around the table stands twenty-three thrones of ivory white, each filled with beautiful engravings and edged with a modest amount of golden filigree, letting them match the room without being too gaudy.
The thrones are evenly spaced with one empty spot, matching the design of the floor, which is a sparkling, polished tan colour, with twenty-four areas marked with swirling golden designs. Each throne sits in an area marked by gold, and the sheer size of the room allows for plenty of space between each seat.
The room seems as if it it was built for the kings of olde. As if it is a sacred place, where the rulers of the world may gather to discuss its fate.
Yet, that splendorous image is ruined by the decorations added. Around the room, there are party banners strewn about, hanging off the chandelier. There are balloons floating against the ceiling and drooping on the floor. Inflatable men painted with the skill of a toddler wave around.
The room looks to be the victim of a dozen children's birthday parties, as if to insult the majesty of the room.
Currently, the room only holds a single occupant; a large, van-sized Lovecraftian monster vaguely in the shape of a dog.
He lays in the one spot missing its throne, resting his head on his front paws.
Cerberus came right back here after finishing yet another fight with an Endbringer, just the same as he has done every other time.
For with the exception of when a good fight is offered to him, Cerberus has done nothing but sit here, alone. Devoutly waiting for a day that may never come.
For the return of his Best Friend.
And he will continue to wait, as long as it takes, he will wait for her.
After all, without Lusia Abel there with him, what is the point of anything?
So he will wait, and she will return. He knows she will.
After all, he understands her, perhaps better than anyone.
She will return, and he will be here, waiting for her.
///
Brockton Bay General Hospital
November 12th, 15:30
///
Emma walks into the building, downtrodden.
She's in her civvies right now, so she doesn't have to worry about acting this way or that, which she takes full advantage of by sulking through the halls, letting herself be a broody teenager for once.
'For once'.
In front of her is Rory. As he's still confined to a wheelchair, she's pushing him onward with her good arm. He's too focused on squeezing the gripper in his hand, never resting with his physical therapy. Emma would admire his dedication, if she wasn't too lost in her own thoughts.
Specifically, her thoughts regarding yesterday. Every Endbringer attack is a national disaster, of that there is no doubt. But even then, it's rare for things to go as bad as they did in New Orleans.
Everyone who hadn't evacuated died, a good three hundred thousand civilians, and the city itself is little more than a memory at this point. More personally, Brockton Bay's Protectorate, like all others who participated, was not able to avoid casualties.
Challenger and Velocity both fell that day, leaving the ENE Protectorate with only five members. Then there's the Wards. Vista remained untouched, and Suzuya returned in good health as always. Carlos was injured, but with his power, a few injuries aren't much of an issue.
As for Mary-
Her thoughts are cut off by a bump in the corridor shaking Rory's wheelchair and jolting her slightly.
She shakes her head, pushing away her thoughts of loss and focusing instead on the present. They were told to come in for a check-up, and her feet lead them to their private room without much more thought from her.
Walking in, they see that their doctor is already inside, checking on Dean as he waits for them.
Doctor James Hartley turns to the door on its opening, giving the two of them a smile.
"You're late," he softly greets, a smile on his face.
"We're injured," Emma responds, voice droll.
"You've only a broken arm, that shouldn't effect how fast you can walk."
"Why do you have to talk so much?"
"'Cuz it's fun."
Rolling her eyes both at the doctor and at Rory's chuckles, Emma pushes her fellow Ward forward, letting him roll over to the doctor, and turns to the rest of the room.
Dean remains where he was, and she quickly looks away from him, not wanting to spend any more time watching his unmoving body.
Instead, she turns to the opposite side of the room, but what she sees there hardly makes her feel any better.
Lying there, her tan skin possessing an unhealthy pale pallor that matches her stark white hair, is Mary.
The soft rise and fall of her chest does nothing to quell the stirring feelings in Emma's gut. She isn't even truly sure what she's feeling. Guilt? Shame? Grief? She doesn't know more than that she doesn't like it.
After all, for all that Mary made it back in the end, she did not come back whole.
Emma's eyes ghost over Mary's side, where the cloth covering her seems to flatten out too soon, making it clear that something is missing.
Then her eyes lock on to another's.
Suzuya's dark eyes meet her own from where the boy is seated by Mary's bedside. He is leaning forward onto the bed, resting his head on crossed arms. He hasn't left her side since she got here, and it is the first time Emma has ever seen him treat anything seriously.
It only makes her feel worse, seeing the normally childish and upbeat little psycho acting so morose.
"Hey," she greets, her voice soft.
"Ohai..." he returns, lacking his usual enthusiasm.
She doesn't really know what to say, and Suzu doesn't seem to really want to talk either, causing a silence to fall between them.
Luckily, Emma doesn't have to bear the awkwardness for long, as an unexpected voice interrupts them.
"What's with those looks?" Her voice is light and weak, but it draws both their eyes all the same. "You'd think someone died or something."
Emma barely gets to observe Mary's smirking face before Suzuya lurches forward, wrapping her in a tight hug.
But rather than finding the scene heart-warming, Emma can't help but focus on how Mary can only return half the hug.
"Jeez, you two need to lighten up. I might have nearly died, but I lived, so alls is good, right?"
Emma's mouth opens and closes for a moment as she struggles to formulate her reply. "B-but, Mary. Your arm..."
Mary casually uses her right arm to push Suzuya back into his seat, and then sits up slightly, allowing her cover to fall down to her waist, revealing what Emma already knew.
Mary no longer has a left arm.
Emma braces herself for any kind of reaction, but she still fails to flinch when Mary's panicked voice rings out.
"Fuck! My arm! It's gone!" She yells, getting the attention of the others in the room, and Emma quickly opens her mouth, not knowing what she can say but hoping to provide some comfort.
Only for her to freeze as Mary's panicked face abruptly changes to a shit-eating grin. "Kidding~."
"W-what?" Emma blurts out, her mind not computing the response.
But Mary merely shrugs.
"What? It's just an arm, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I've got another one, so it's no biggie."
"No biggie?" Emma feels like her brain is crashing.
She lost an arm. A whole arm, all the way up to the shoulder.
That kind of seems like a big deal!
"It's okay to mourn yourself," Doctor James' voice suddenly sounds out from beside her, but Mary just gives another negligent shrug.
"Don't worry man, I'm not holding back tears or anything. It's just an arm. I mean, statistically speaking, I got off pretty good."
"Who cares about statistics!" Emma can't help but exclaim, "you nearly died! And even if you survived, you still lost your arm! That's not something you should just be shrugging away!"
"Gee, thanks for reminding me," is Mary's dry response, before her face hardens and she gives Emma a stern glare. "Emma, it would be an insult to those who fell to be anything but grateful that I still live. Sure, I could spend the rest of my life moping about the loss of my arm, or, I could spend the rest of my life grateful for my other arm. My legs. My body."
There's a brief silence as Mary allows those present mull over her words before continuing. "To willingly fight an Endbringer is to knowingly give away your life. Everyone who heeds that call to arms is already dead. Those of us who return? We return from death, and should simply be glad to live once more. So what if not all of me made it back? Ninety percent is better than nothing. Now, if you're all quite done recreating the atmosphere of an oncology ward, I believe I have a tube in my urethra that I would quite like to be removed."
Suzuya starts snickering at the expressions of the others as they process everything she's said, feeling both contemplative from her words, and awkward from how she finished them.
"Right..." Doctor Hartley speaks up in the awkward silence, "we'll get right on that."
///
Downtown South
November 27th,16:15
///
Natalie had just gotten off her bus, making her way home from school, when a friendly female voice suddenly calls out for her.
"Natalie~!" They exclaim, and she doesn't get a good look at her face as the girl's arm abruptly drapes over her shoulder, pushing her shoulders down as they seems to lean her entire weight down on her. "There you are~! I thought you'd never show up~!"
Confused as to who could be greeting her as if they are long time friends despite not recognising the voice, Natalie turns her head to get a good look at them.
The girl looks to have a couple of years on her, standing a few inches taller, probably five-seven-ish. She has chestnut brown hair down to her shoulders in wavy curls, a pretty face and warm brown eyes that match her hair.
She's wearing a loose, red zip-up hoodie and loose tan-coloured cargo pants, and has a wide, overly-friendly smile on her face.
"Do I know you?" Natalie bluntly asks as she rather rudely shrugs the older girl's arm off of her, her voice laden with suspicion.
Briefly, she glances around the bus stop and notices a few people paying attention to their interaction. More importantly, she sees a couple of people, women with their phones out. Not recording anything, just preparing to call the cops in case anything happens.
That's just life in Brockton Bay really, anyone who stands out from the crowd has a pretty good chance of being a criminal of some sort. No one else is happy in this shithole. Admittedly, it does provide some measure of comfort to Natalie that the people around her are ready to get the police involved if this girl starts acting too sketchy.
"Nope," the mystery girl answers, popping the 'p', "I know Suzuya though, and I just wanted to have a quick chat, if that's cool?"
Immediately, Natalie is feeling even more weary. Suzuya is a psychopath after all. A friend she may consider the trap to be, she hold no illusions to the kind of home life he must have to be so blasé about stabbing people.
"What do you want to talk about?" She guardedly retorts, mentally preparing herself to reach for the pepper spray in her pocket. You can never be too safe in Brockton.
"Well, it's a bit embarrassing honestly," the girl says, her face gaining a slight pink tinge to it and her voice lowering with her embarrassment, "but I basically just wanted to thank you really, and maybe get to know you a little better."
"Thank me? Thank me for what?"
"Well y'know..." The girl trails off and doesn't say anything for a short moment before sighing. "Look, Suzu and I have both been dealt a pretty shitty hand, and he's my little bro in all but blood. I know he can be a lot," Natalie's brow twitches at the understatement, "so I just wanted to thank you for being his friend, and get to know you a bit better."
Natalie mulls over her words for a moment before answering. Suzuya hasn't really told them anything about his life, at least not anything that isn't just a blatant lie, so she find herself accepting this girl's words. "The thanking me part I can kinda get, but I don't get why you're bothering. We ain't friends, why do you want to 'get to know me'?"
"Can't a big sister be overprotective of their little bro every now and then?"
She can't really deny that, knowing that she'd probably feel similarly if her own little brother was in the same situation.
Sighing to herself, she lets her shoulders relax. It's not like Natalie's got anywhere to be right now. "You got anywhere in mind? Or do you just wanna talk by the bus?"
The girl giggles, a pleasant sound, and turns away, waving Natalie over as she does. "Sure, I know a place with some great food~."
As they walk away together, Natalie finds herself relaxing somewhat, the silence between them not feeling awkward at all.
But the silence doesn't last, as after a couple of minutes of walking, the girl speaks up.
"So! I guess I never really introduced myself huh? My name's Hannah Bradford, nice to meet you."
"Yeah well, you already seem to know my name."
"'Course I do~! Suzu's happy to have friends, he doesn't stop talking about you. Same as that Taylor girl."
Natalie's lip twitches at the mention of Taylor, an underclassmen. She has no idea why Suzuya randomly decided to start hanging out with that loner. The only reason she even knows who Taylor is, is because she doesn't have any friends. Like, at all.
She can't even really consider Suzuya her friend, since he seems to treat her more like a painting or something. He just thinks she's hot so he drags her around as if they're friends. She can't really blame him though, because she is hot. The only reason no other guys have bothered shooting their shot is because, again, she has no friends.
It's not worth the drop in street cred to be seen hanging out with someone like her, especially with that ginger girl rallying everyone in her year against the girl. Natalie and her friends have wondered what that ginger girl, whatever her name is, has against Taylor to be so hostile.
Personally, she thinks the ginger's a lesbo and was turned down, making it all some lover's quarrel-esque thing, but maybe she's been reading too many of the smut fanfictions written about various Heroes.
It's not that she's a pervert or anything!
...Some of them are just really well written.
Shaking those thoughts from her head, she spends a few minutes with Hannah, just talking about her times at school with Suzu as they walk, Hannah occasionally adding her own stories.
Natalie finds herself enjoying Hannah's company, finding her to be like a more mature Suzuya. Just as fun to be around, but with far less of that aloof craziness that suffuses Suzuya's being.
Eventually, they come to a stop, and Natalie looks around, seeing that they are just in some street filled with detached houses, not a restaurant or ice cream shop or something.
"I thought we were getting something to eat?"
"Oh," Hannah gives her a disarming smile, "we are. I just forgot my wallet, so imma grab it first. You wanna come wait inside?" She gestures ahead as she starts walking down the small path to the front door, fiddling with a chain of keys she pulled from a hoodie pocket.
Not really wanting to stand around outside by herself, Natalie follows after her, giving the house a look over. Really, it just seems cliché. Like the kind of house you'd find in a commercial about nuclear families, nothing special.
Hannah unlocks and opens the front door without preamble and walks inside, kicking her shoes off by the door and heading for the staircase at the end of the hall in her socks.
"Feel free to kick up on the couch," she says over her shoulder, "Imma use the toilet while we're here, so I'll be a min."
"Sure," Natalie answers, taking her shoes off as well before making her way to the living room.
Frankly, she was expecting it to be bland, to match the outside, but it is anything but. In one corner, there are a few instruments. An electrical keyboard, a guitar and a bone-white violin. And in the other corner, there is a black grand piano taking up much of the floorspace.
The centre of the room seems to be the 'living' part, having one large couch sitting opposite a massive flatscreen TV.
She finds herself wandering over to the piano, feeling mildly awed by it. She's no connoisseur of music or anything, but she can recognise that this piano has got to be quite the piece.
Her fingers ghost over the keys, but she resists playing any of them, her teenage mind too quick to worry about reprisal.
Turning away from the instrument, she manages to catch a glimpse of a door slightly ajar, with only darkness on the other side.
Walking further into the building, she rounds a corner until she is in front of the door, and curiously pulls it further open.
She assumes it leads to some cellar or something, since all she can see beyond the door is a set of stone stairs leading down. But more than that, she feels like she smells something curious, she just isn't sure what it is.
She isn't sure what compels her to, probably just human curiosity, but after a quick glance about the house, she decides to head down, flicking a light switch so she isn't stumbling blind.
Briefly she feels like she's a horror movie protagonist, before rolling her eyes and scoffing at the thought. If she walks down there and meets a crazy man in a suit, she'll be sure not to say his name more than twice.
The stairway is empty for the first stretch, a cold breeze wafting past her as the sounds of the outside world starts to dim into ominous silence, before hitting a small platform and turning ninety degrees to the right, where the basement comes into view.
At least, some of it does.
The sight she is greeted with has her revaluating that horror movie cliché thought, as the 'basement' seems to just be a small sitting room. With a simple chair and table, radio on top and a small refrigerator to the side, it doesn't look like anything special.
But that is only if you ignore the thick-looking steel door stuck into the far wall. It doesn't look like it's closed properly. Not that it's ajar enough for her to see a gap poking through, but it's easy enough to tell that the door isn't running as parallel as it should.
With her burning curiosity pushing her forward, Natalie forgets about anything else and simply approaches the door.
Laying a hand on the cold steel, she feels a deep, instinctual hesitance, only the sound of her own light breaths occupying her senses. But her curiosity pushes her past it, and she presses against the door, finding it to give rather easily, sliding open with little protest.
Almost immediately, the stench hit her almost like a physical force, making her entire face scrunch up in disgust, tears coming to her eyes at the horrible scent.
She brings an arm up to her face, using her shirt's sleeve as a makeshift mask as she peers into the room now being lit up by the light streaming through the half open door.
Red.
That's all she can think as her eyes take in what she can see of the room.
Red. Blood, her mind supplies. It covers the floor more than it doesn't. Even less of the concrete floor is visible through the splattered blood the closer to the centre of the room her gaze travels.
It's not just the floor either. The walls too. The walls are painted with blood. It's deepest at their bottoms, getting lighter as the wall gets higher, but none of it is clean. Even the ceiling has a few splatters of blood over it, with the single light bulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling also having a splatter of blood across it.
At the far end of the room, almost hidden away as the light from the door doesn't quite make it to the opposite wall, is a set of chained manacles built into the wall.
The cuffs of the manacles look like they've started to rust, and Natalie thinks she sees chunks of what she can only assume is flesh around the cuffs.
She almost retches. In fact, she numbly recognises that it's probably only because of going into shock that she hasn't retched.
She needs to leave.
The thought hits her abruptly, almost causing her to stumble back from surprise, but she cannot deny it.
Whatever...this is, she needs to leave. She's not safe here.
Right as she is about to turn around and run for the door, she notices movement beside her shadow, and she freezes when she realises what it is.
Another shadow is stretching out into the room, overlapping with her own.
Someone is behind her.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the shadow comes to a stop, it's head stretching just a few inches further than her own.
Shaking in place, Natalie wills herself to move, jerkily turning herself around until she is face to face with Hannah once more.
The girl looks physically the same, but also so incredibly different.
Her smile seems wider, less human. Her eyes no longer feel warm, but like that of a predator looking down on her prey.
More than that though, is her clothes. Where before she was wearing casual baggy clothes, she is now wearing what Natalie can only numbly recognise as a cape outfit.
She's dressed like one of those clowns from the renaissance faire, jesters, she thinks they are called. Her outfit is puffy and symmetrical, with lines of red and teal covering her limbs. She isn't wearing a mask, but she does have one of those stupid looking hats with bells on the ends.
Natalie blearily recalls making fun of those jesters at the last faire, but right now, they have never been scarier.
Shamefully, she feels her panties dampen as she wets herself, and she looks away when she sees Hanna's smirk grow.
She opens her mouth to speak, even if she has no idea what she was going to say. But the option is taken from her when Hannah moves faster than she can follow and is suddenly holding a delicate finger over her lips.
"Shhh, it's okay, you don't have to say anything~." Hannah's voice has a playful quality to it that has some instinctual part of Natalie's hind brain screaming out 'Danger'.
"You must be curious," she continues as if Natalie is in any position to converse, "but don't worry, I'll explain~."
Hannah points one of her arms to the fridge across the room, and she watches in muted awe as the arm extends like rubber all the way to the fridge, opening it and pulling out a thin black case before closing it again and returning to normal.
"It's actually quite fortuitous that you came down here, it speeds things along for me," she spins the box around, pointing it in Natalie's direction before clicking it open.
Inside, snuggling comfortably in perfectly moulded grey sponge, sits five thin syringes full of an ominous red liquid, each with a small sticker of a laughing mouth with a big red nose above it near their tops.
"Have you ever read Frankenstein? Or watched the movies?" The sudden non-sequitur throws Natalie off balance, but Hannah doesn't give her the opportunity to answer.
"I've decided to try something like that. Like a science experiment~. All I really need is all the parts, so you're going to have to wait until I get some more assistants. But when I do, I'm going to take you all apart, and mix and match your pieces together to create a whole new life! After that, it's more of an art than a science, but don't worry, you'll be the brain, isn't that cool? I don't know what gender you'll be though. Then again, who says you can't be both? Who knows~. I certainly have no idea how this will turn out, it is, like I said, more of an art~."
As the insane cape continues to talk to herself, giggling ever so slightly, Natalie starts to hyperventilate.
Her breathes come in short bursts, getting shorter and more rapid by the second as her shock is worn down by the constantly growing fear. Until it all gets to much for her, and she feels like her mind breaks as she lets out a gut-wrenching scream and charges forward, unsure of what she's trying to accomplish, but giving it her all.
She feels a sudden flaring of pain, and the next thing she knows, she is on the floor, curled up in foetal position with Hannah standing above, looking down on her with a demented smile.
"Good, that's good, Natalie~. Keep up that good spirit, and I'm sure everything will be perfect~."
The psychopath crouches down, a hand delicately stroking the younger girl's hair out of her face, almost lovingly.
"We've got to do are best, Natalie. I'm sure you'll make me proud."
Hannah smiles, a light, gentle thing that does not fit with the scenario at all.
Natalie whimpers.
///
A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!
Lmao, I didn't know what to write, cuz that whole endbringer thing wasn't even supposed to happen, kinda just went with it, which left me not knowing what to write. So I just thought, fuck it, when in doubt, let's torture a teenager.
And thus, this chapter. :)
Comments
Lucy Edwards
Challenger still got rib bozo'd tho
Scarletmenace
Oh hey she’s alive….. not Natalie tho, she’s fucked
