Chapter 7 – What Lurks Beneath The Static

Well, here we are.

As you’ve come to expect, this part is being done post-events. There is so much to cover, that i’ve split it into two pieces. What happens in the middle is the content as dictated, I’ve done what I can to clean it up and provide some extra context. Tristan always loved his music and I want his story to be told properly, so I hope you’ll forgive these extra inclusions, it’s how he would’ve wanted it to be.

He always had a flair for the dramatic.

I want to thank everyone for their kind words, their support during the break and everything in between. I truly feel like each of you were with us when we finally faced what lurked within the station. You will never be forgotten.

Far as we’re concerned; you’re all honorary sages now.

No matter what happens.

1 – Name That Anomaly

2 – Forbidden Acquisition

3 – Madame Elvira Bidell – The Psychic Of The Century

4 – Life Out Of Death

5 – The Day Of Separation

6 – The Fall Of Mantis Reach

8 – The Final Encounter

We stood outside the station, terrified and utterly bewildered. Granted, all of us had been doing our own thing the past decade and though I’d been the lone holdout -Mathias excluded- in leaving our town, I’d spent so much of the last decade indoors and wallowing in artistic self loathing that I wouldn’t have bat an eyelid if a bomb went off in my little slice of suburbia.

The building was tall, foreboding and filled with an ill glow, the neon sign holding the namesake of the station acting much like a lure on an angler fish; enticing us to enter with the glow, snapping the jaws shut the second we went inside.

We knew we were walking into a trap.

So, we did what any rational group would do before they went to track down the scourge of their nightmares since their teen years; we took in the night air, huddled up and gave pause for a few minutes before heading in there. Like any good team, we wanted our game plan in place and our heads cleared before we mobilised.

Off to the side of the building was an embankment that allowed us to look out on the sea, the craggy rocks caked in sea foam were far from ominous in the face of the building behind us, they almost provided a semblance of comfort; that there was an ebb and flow to all things, even the kind of abominations that JJ and the network concocted up for us. We all sat on the edge, our legs feeling the strong breeze and for a moment, we felt free.

Warren pulled out his backpack and sat a small speaker down between us, tapping a few things on his phone before setting it down as it connected.

“You gonna blast us with some metal to hype us up, dude?” Millie gave him a slight punch in the arm, he chuckled.

“Nah, something a little different. Don’t get me wrong, that’s still 100% my jam, but I think a cooler head prevails in a situation like this. Hope it helps.” He looked at me and gave a warm smile as the chords started to play.

He was right, I wanted so badly to run in there guns, swords and bazookas blazing, though I’ve no clue where I’d get any of those from. I wanted to rush in like an action hero, burn the entire building to the fucking ground and cut off JJ’s head while Mathias watched in terror, maybe pissing his pants for good measure.

I wanted so badly to be angry at something other than myself.

“I saw the part of you that only when you’re older you will see too.”

I thought back, in those tranquil couple of minutes, to the best of times we’d all had together. They say if you know someone for 7 years or longer, they’re a friend for life. Well, that much is true in our case and when I looked to each of them, all with their own insecurities, fears, aspirations, loves and hates; I knew I’d chosen well.

I remembered the first time I met Preston – It was during a baking class when my brother and I transferred schools, we were 9 and I didn’t like being separated from Tristan even then. I remember half of the first day was spent hiding under my table and crying, trying to keep my anxiety at bay while staining my overalls and looking delightfully gross as a result; not a good look. But, after some careful coaxing and an offer of a bagel bite with a big smile on his face, I took Prestons hand and stood up out of the desk.

“Mom says to never eat your feelings away, but I think it’s okay if you’re sad.” He hands it to me, putting his hand over mine and chuckling. “I don’t feel sad right now, so you should have it!”

From that moment, he was one of my best friends. Anyone called him names, I’d be right there up in their face to defend him. Damn near got me suspended a couple times for “overly aggressive behaviour”, but I didn’t care. Preston was a kind kid and those are in rare supply sometimes. The man he’d grown into now, comfortable with who he is, how he looks and the love he has in spite of such pain… he is a soul far too good for the world he inhabits. I want to be better for him, for his husband to be.

I looked to Warren, remembering how he became a lifelong friend to me, Tristan and Preston a few years later. We’d always known him, sure, but he’d been in a separate class for “distracted students” and so we never mingled. That all changed when we went to Middle school. One afternoon, an older kid got in Preston’s face and was throwing all kinds of racial and homophobic slurs, I don’t need to repeat the exact words here, y’all have an imagination. We were on the other side of the street as we came rushing over.

“Stay away from me you fat shit.” He hissed before spitting in Preston’s face, shoving him to the ground and kicking him. “Bad enough your kind are here, worse that you can’t even like girls. What next? You gonna use those tits to BE a gi-“

The next moment was met with a resounding whack, a crunch and a thud.

Warren was stood with his bloodied right hand outstretched, head down and kneeling forward as the shot that cracked the bully’s jaw sent him reeling to the floor, clutching his face and screaming in pain as his cronies tended to him.

“You say another fucking word to him and I’ll make sure the next shot requires surgery.” He breathed through gritted teeth, fury in his eyes as he stared at them. That expression immediately switched to kindness as he held out a hand to Preston, patting him off.

“Whatever you are, be it without any shame. OK?” He pulled out a snack from his pocket, handing it to him. “And don’t worry if you’re not a fighter. Long as I’m around, I’ll take care of that. Assuming those two dorks don’t get there first!” He pointed to us while laughing, that moment permanently etched into my mind as I looked at the calm, collected man he had turned out to be. He’d taken the guilt of his past, the rage of his regret, and channeled it into being a more measured man. I was fortunate to have someone so strong and collected as a friend.

I thought of Mathias, how we’d come to spend time with him that same year because of extra credit work during the summer. He offered to share his findings with us if we’d take part in a social experiment he had planned.

“Call it a scientific venture!” He beamed from behind thick glasses and shoulder-length brown hair. “Even if there is no science, it’ll still count. Mr Ambrose said, so long as I take down the findings!”

His scientific venture? Watching an R Rated horror flick to see how we each reacted. The results were… mixed. Warren delighted in the splendour, Tristan got distracted, Preston felt unwell and I drew a lot of creepy etchings of the bad guys. When we were done, Mathias peered over his notes with glee.

“Man, you guys are really something! Mind if I hang with you for a bit longer? I wanna…gather data.” He looked at me for a moment too long, a quick smile flickering on his face before going back to his notes. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I wouldn’t bark up that tree, Mathias. Fay doesn’t “like-like” anyone. And I’m not just saying that as her brother.” He shrugged, sighing. “She’s pretty content on her own.”

“I like drawing?” I pointed out. Tristan and Warren smiling as they shook their heads.

“Exactly.” They said in unison. Being asexual wasn’t exactly something you knew at 12, but maybe twins just have a way of knowing these things even without names. In any case, it didn’t deter Mathias.

“I have no idea what you mean, this is strictly scientific!” He puffed out his chest and put his hands at his sides. “I swear to you, it will be a few days, nothing more!”

Well, you know how that story went. Now, he’s lurking in the bowels of this building and is far removed from the trivia ladened mastermind of our group.

Lastly, there was Millie. We met her the exact same day we met Dallas. I realise to some of you that our choice of wording for his nickname was… unsavoury. It took until we were adults to realise that and I only kept the nickname in from our time prior because both I and Tristan believe in authenticity. Our mistakes are not to be hidden away, Millie made us realise that.

The first day of the new school semester, 3 years before we would reach The Day Of Separation. I’d dyed my hair red in an act of defiance absolutely nobody at home cared about, Tristan shot up 4 inches in a ridiculous growth spurt, Mathias began tying his hair back in the trademark bun and Warren shaved his head into the mohawk we came to know. I teased him for upstaging me.

New year and new classmates are par for the course. But as both Millie and Dallas strode in, one wearing all black and wearing the most incredible make-up I’d ever seen and the other in an open-buttoned flannel shirt with baggy jeans. Where Dallas looked vibrant, she looked… tired, her body language guarded and her baggy sweater betraying her slim frame. I didn’t know it at the time, but she’d just been through the worst point with her family and had moved into foster care. She even changed her name from the Mormon given “Ada Beckstead” to “Millie “Goody” Osborne”, a purposeful tie to her persecuted past and enjoyment of Witchcraft, rejecting her family’s religious tendencies.

She was guarded. But when we got onto the subject of our favourite horror movies, it was like the walls came down, if only for a few minutes. Her face lit up, and she invited us to her foster home to watch The Thing. Dallas made a fart joke and did the Numa Numa dance on the desk until he was sent out by the teacher while we howled with laughter. From there, it was history. Neither one left our side.

I looked back at her now, seeing the beautiful, confident woman she’d become. A person no longer plagued by the sufferings of her delusional, cruel family. Someone who was free to be her own person, not defined by anyone else. I was and am so proud to be her friend.

At the same time, I wondered what kind of person Dallas would be if he’d grown up… what kind of man Tristan would be.

I think back to when we made up our own fake lawyer firm; “Muldoon and Muldoon”, wearing oversized suits left by our grandparents and trying to solve disputes between friends or family members. They considered us “weird” as twin pairings go. We always tried to include others in what we did, but it was always apparent we’d have too many of our own moments, inside jokes and idiosyncrasies. It was often too much for anyone to break through.

I thought about Tristan’s laugh, his impetuous smile and sense of drama when it came to creativity. He’d have loved this moment; a picturesque song sitting on the cliff edge with his best friends before going inside a nightmare hell-scape to put an end to an ultimate evil.

I just don’t think he ever imagined he wouldn’t be a part of the battle, too.

The song begins to finish, and we get up, silently, one by one. We stretch and look up at that moon, knowing it could be the last time.

Without saying a word, we hug each other and put our hands in the centre.

“Muldoon, Fereday, DeMacio, Osborne, Muldoon and…Mendoza.” We paused, feeling a chill overcome us before Warren looked up at the building. “Woljiech, Watson… we’ll find you.”

With that, we opened the doors.

The immediate gust of heat and bright lights staggered us as we braced ourselves, the boom of the heat feeling like it would sear our skin if we stood in it too long.

Like the exhalation of a great old beast, using its sheer power to warn us to leave.

Holding each other in a straight line, we pushed through the archway and stepped into a reception area; the doors smashing shut behind us as the reception area was bathed in bright lights, all that was visible was a simple desk and vacant chair, lazily spinning in place. During the confusion, a voice echoed around the room, cold and wild, with a hint of malice…

Mathias.

“I suppose it was inevitable, wasn’t it? You’d eventually find your way here, to where it all began. Now we finish it. Now, you face what you did. Now…”

The lights flicker and a long shadow casts up the back wall and towards the top of the room. Perching himself on the rafters, gnarled and fractured teeth bared, was Mathias. Wild-eyed and full of what I can only describe as hunger, he leapt down and everything fell to black.

When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the smell; sulphur, plastic and chemicals.

The second thing was the set up in front of me, a multitude of screens highlighting each of our group as they lay on the ground, motionless.

Stacked in a neat square, each one of the screens save for the fourth were displaying all too familiar title cards;

“Name That Anomaly”

“Forbidden Acquisition”

“Madame Bidell: Psychic Of The Century”

I felt a pair of hands run across my shoulders as I became fully conscious, the smell of rot and filth burning my nostrils. I can see flashes of his visage in the brief moments when the screens flicker. Wide eyes, sallow skin rife with blemishes and scars. He grins in that flash before whispering in my ear, my skin growing cold and my stomach turning as he gets close;

“Now, you dictate what happens to them.”

We see Warren rousing from sleep and pushing off the floor, rubbing his head and checking to see if there’s any blood. When realising it’s not, he checks his surroundings and his eyes grow wide and fearful as he sees the same small archway and the torches flicker to life and illuminate the same familiar table, a silhouetted figure seated, facing away from him.

“Well, now…” An unfamiliar female voice called. “I suppose that means the show has started.”

Warren’s eyes grew wide, and his lip trembled.

“How… you… you can’t be here. I watched you… I watched you die.” He breathed, walking forward with a hand reached out in uncertainty.

“Not all things are simple, but most are cyclical. We are born, we live, we die. But sometimes that cycle is interrupted. Some don’t get to fully enjoy life before they die, do they? I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it SO many times from this chair. I grew old and saw things before they happened… MADE things happen. I became the Madame. But you…”

The torches lit up, a bright blue flame illuminating the silhouette of a well-dressed woman with a large purple shawl draped across her face, wide eyes and gritted teeth, hands raised and fingers tipped on the table, immense pressure pushing down on them as she spoke again, spit flying through the air from emaciated gums.

“You knew me as “Mom”.”

She leapt from the table with ungodly speed and pounced on Warren, clasping both her frail hands together in one joint fist and brought it down on Warrens face with a sickening thud. All the while repeating the same word;

“MURDERER.”

The hands on my shoulders tighten and pull my body ever so slightly to look at the next monitor, this time of Preston. He’s already awake and manoeuvring through the dark to find a light-switch. When turning it on, the damp room flickers to life as he takes in his surroundings.

It’s a basement. Piles of moulded boxes, trinkets and Christmas decorations line the spacious underbelly of this home. Far too many neglected birthday gifts and family heirlooms are piled to the far end, the adjacent “fly on the wall” camera highlighting for me to see as it pans across the room.

Preston looks panicked. He rushes over to a box and after a few moments of desperate rummaging; he pulls out a worn photo album. Tears stain his face and he weeps against the photo he’d opened to before backing against the wall and sinking down to the floor as he sobbed, the album dropping to his side and falling open.

It’s a photo of his brother’s family. His then living wife, daughter and their dog all standing happily in front of the home that Preston now finds himself in.

To the right of the wall and at the top of the staircase leading down to the basement, a faint purple glow can be seen fleeting across the floor, bathing the basement in the sickening hue as a familiar song starts to echo in the home.

“How much is that doggy in the window? The one with the yummy tail…”

“This is real time” Preston breathes, wiping his eyes and getting to his feet as he shouts out for his brother over the speaker. “Hank! It’s me! Don’t listen to him! We can still save you!” He runs up the stairs, his foot catching on a rotted step and plunging his leg through, trapping him as he fights against gravity to get away.

As he does so, a faint groaning and the sound of something being dragged can be heard from the corner with the boxes.

The thing that pounded on the stairs has woken up.

Once again, the gangrenous hands of Mathias turn me almost mechanically to the third screen, smiling as the scene remains static and unchanging; a nature shot of a clearing in the undergrowth.

“Ah… Seems things are moving at a deft pace, we might peak too early…”

He wraps his left hand around my throat; the fingers smelling of sweet rot and chemicals, some of the skin looking rubbery and plastic while others feel slimy. Everything about him and the way he touches me feels wrong.

“I could do it, you know. Tighten my grip just a little bit and hold you still while you thrash and bite and resist. Until you can’t anymore. I’ve seen it in the movies and it always seems so quick. But realistically, you would wake up if I let go after a minute, panting and with an ungodly amount of fear like a drowning person coming up for air after their lungs threatened to burst, before someone pushing on your head and…”He tightens the grip and I feel the nails pierce my skin and my airflow begin to restrict, it becomes hard to think about anything but getting away as I try to dictate, knowing he will only squeeze tighter if I stop.

“Pushing you back under again. There’s been SO many cases of jilted lovers, pained young men scorned by their ex’s and people exacting revenge on unjustly partners. They always get what they want, TAKE what they want in the end. I played nice for so long that I almost believed in my own shit. But, when I realised all this had to be done… that WE deserved punishment… It made it easier to accept all of it, including the truth I’d ignored for so many years.”

“What…truth…” I wheezed, eyes shaking in their sockets as something began moving on screen. He sighed and let go as I coughed, letting his hands go from my shoulders and leaning in to my ear again.

“If I can’t have you, then nobody else ever will.”

He was going to kill me. The moment I’d done what he wanted, he’d kill me.

Warren and Preston already suffering, I turned my attention to Millie. One part dictating her every move, the other desperately trying to find a way to escape and ignoring the one dissenting voice in my head that was growing louder with every passing moment, filling my body with an unspeakable dread;

There wasn’t one.

Unlike in Warren’s case with a studio camera or the static “fly on the wall” camera for Preston, it’s immediately obvious that the camera focused on Millie is that of a documentarian camera; a field camera allowing for more realistic and nuanced movement. The shot moves from its position on a blank trail and the cameraman begins to move towards a body on the ground with a calm swiftness. Without any hesitation or doubt, they grab a tuft of her hair and keep walking, pulling her along the trail while not missing a step.

The camera shudders and blurs as Millie fights back, seemingly getting the better of them for a brief moment before a heavy blur overtakes the camera, a thud is heard and the shot re-centres on a terrified Millie, a knee pressed on her chest.

“My dear, you are here for a very good reason and before this is over, I intend to make sure you understand that. Now, we can do this an easy way wherein you acquiesce and join your family OR…” He grabs her forearm and pulls it off screen, the camera still focused on Millie’s terrified face which scrunches into that of utter agony as a sound is heard from behind the camera. She pulls her forearm back and holds it while groaning, dark blood running down her arm and the sound of enthusiastic chewing coming from the camera operator, who turns the shot onto his face, filled with glee as he chews at the chunk of flesh as if it’s a piece of prime steak.

“I will simply devour you myself and make sure it takes as long as it takes. If you’d prefer to walk, that may make things easier on us both.”

Barclay pulls the camera back towards the trail and Millie gets to her feet with pained moans. They walk for a few minutes before reaching another clearing, this time with a fork in the middle.

“If you’d be so kind as to step into the centre, my dear. The main event is about to begin.” He giggled, somehow still sounding professional with every word dipped in malice. She stumbles over, ripping off a piece of her fabric to wrap up the wound as she does so. I have never seen her more scared than when she stared down both paths, the fear mounting in her.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, what we are witnessing is the most primal kind of fear one can possess. It is that of a human presented with her childhood fears in a way that for most of us is never realised. Few among us are transported back to those exact moments that made us the broken creatures we are now. But for those lucky few, they can re-experience it all over again.”

He pans the camera to the right and off the path we see the black, towering tree from the show. It’s bark is splitting at the seams with thick roots protruding all around it endlessly, some of them even throbbing from a distance. In the rafters, countless bodies in various stages of decomposition litter the branches, some writhing and moaning while others are static and twitching. On the lowest branches, some 30ft from the ground is Millie’s brother, older and more emaciated than when we saw him previously. He’s barely conscious but points a shuddering hand at Millie when he sees her. She cups a hand over her mouth and sobs.

“Of course, there is always absolution. For every tough choice, there is a repercussion or an alternative route. Sometimes, when faced with a difficulty, a penalty must be provided to succeed.”

The camera pans to the left, Millie following as she immediately screams and takes a step forward, stopping when she realises the uncomfortable truth.

It’s the same clearing, same child and same JJ Watson, grotesque Mantis form gently swaying in the breeze and standing at a horrifying 7ft, spiked arms clutched close and ready to ensnare the child if it comes closer. Neither I nor Millie know who the child is, if it’s meant to be a symbol of her younger self, but we know what will happen if she doesn’t intervene.

“Now, we watch as this person, caught in a most personal crisis, must make a choice that will impact her and her friends for the rest of their lives.”

Somewhere in the bowels of the building, I hear a song begin to play. It’s faint, I can’t make out all of it, I hear those first lines.

“If you open my chest, see that two hearts are beating. Fallen out of sync.”

The moment felt like an eternity. Warren, Preston and Millie all caught in their own struggles, my heart threatening to burst out of its chest not only for the anxiety I felt for them… but because I knew what was about to happen to me.

Mathias spun me around and for the first time, I could see him. Truly, completely *see* him.

He was emaciated, his limbs dangled at their sides like a marionette with loose strings. His clothes were ragged and his entire form was… wrong. He looked out of place, like a boil on smooth skin. Every facet of him felt grotesque, and I recoiled when he leaned in and smiled.

“I suppose we’ve finally reached the moment of truth. Everyone is facing their own trials and, if we’re being candid, they’re likely to fail. Takeshi’s Castle had a success rate of just 5%, so the likelihood of these weak idiots surviving is… slim. But you, you’ve still got a chance to right those wrongs and face what YOU deserve. All you have to do is take my hand and Let. Me. In.” He puts his hand over mine and I feel the rubbery skin sink against my flesh. I hold back vomit and steel my resolve.

“No matter what you do. No matter what you say. I will NEVER be what you want me to be.” I stare into his eyes. His vacant, milky, manic eyes. I don’t give him a moment to reply. “I never loved you. I will NEVER love you. I cannot give you what you want when I don’t want it from anyone. We all have our flaws, Mathias. Including you.”

Somewhere from the intercom system, I hear a faint song being played,

He bites his lip until black blood trickles out and gathers it on the divot in his tongue, swirling it around.

“Then I guess we’ve reached an impasse. Pity.”

He leaps forward and wraps gnarled fingers around my throat with incredible strength, pinning me to the control desk that houses the TV’s and various electrical wires. “I always thought we’d be doing this under different circumstances.” He licks his lips and drools as he speaks, I feel my chest grow hot and my eyes blur once more. “But, you’ll get to face your own test either way. Meeting your useless brother and that fucking moron Dallas.”

My eyes swivel back into my skull and I catch one final glimpse of the sages in their final moments;

Warren’s face a bloody mess as his mother brings her fists down unflinchingly upon the bridge of his nose and jaw, twitching with every shot.

Preston now pulling away from the staircase and smashing on the basement door as something formless and writhing makes its way across the threshold towards him.

Millie pulling at her hair and screaming as her family lies in the suffering tree to her right and a scene of carnage waiting to unfold to her left.

My vision begins to fade, my last image being that of Mathias groaning sensually as a smiling, towering visage of JJ stands behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

In that instance, I knew I’d met my end. I stopped fighting; I let my limbs go limp and succumbed to darkness.

I remember little of those moments, minutes, hours I spent in the stygian void. I know my body floated on a Black Sea with a purple foam lapping against my shoulders, a red twilight sun hanging in the great expanse as it was ferried across the landscape by a bespectacled insect that I can’t place to this day. It looked down at me for a moment; the sheer size of this behemoth only fully appreciated up close. It stood for a moment observing me, before shaking its head and manoeuvring back to its place in the sky, clicking its mandibles and ferrying away as the stars lit up, dropping to the sea like buoys to follow.

My body felt light, I rose up and found myself wading effortlessly through the ocean, guided by the lights. If this was a near-death experience, it was a fucking unique one.

I don’t know how long I wandered for, but after some time, shadows began to rise up against the sky, great illuminators of things to come.

Warren on his back. Not moving.

Preston holding onto the stairs for dear life.

Millie hanging from a tree.

All things that would come to pass If I didn’t DO something.

I moved faster, greater purpose in mind as the water collected at my waist and began to slow me down, like rushing through mud until it became impossible to go further. My energy drained, and I felt hands pulling on me, threatening to drag me into the endless sea. The same gnarled ones that were undoubtedly still around my neck in the waking world.

But then a voice came. One I hadn’t heard so clearly and so emphatically in so many years that it sent shivers down my spine, goosebumps to rise on my skin and my muscles to tense with power at its call.

“Fay. You can do this. This is your story. YOU decide how it ends.” It was Tristan, the largest shadow on the endless backdrop, a visage of him reaching out to me. As if on cue, the faint song blasted through this sleeping barrier between life and death and roused me from my lapse in faith;

“I HEARD MY BROTHER CRYING OUT”

Eyes snapped awake, my throat was burning and my chest threatening to cave in under the pressure of no oxygen. The same powerful shriek I heard in that void ripped through the speakers and caused Mathias to leap back, hands on his ears, right as every other entity threatening my friends did the same.

With a single inhale, I leaned my head back and pushed forward with everything I had, careening my skull into Mathias’ face with a sickening crunch. He stumbled back, blood and teeth flying across the floor as he clutched at his mouth in agony. I breathed out, looked at the desk and watched the monitors.

I couldn’t speak to them, but they heard me.

Warren, still on his back and taking multiple beatings from this figure, bucked his hips up and pushed her off. She rolled on the floor and splayed out on all fours, fingers still perched and her crooked teeth gritted, face locked in hatred.

“YOU KILLED MY BABY BOY. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE RESPONSIBLE. I WAS LEFT WITH A WASTE OF POTENTIAL. A FELON. A VIOLENT OFFENDER.” She spat and jumped forward, lunging and missing Warren as he side-steps and looks on with pity. She grunts and snarls. “YOU HATE ME. YOU WANT TO KILL ME. DO IT.”

Warren just stared, his fists never flying, and underneath the swelling, bruising and blood strewn across his face, tears flowed freely.

“No. I’m not that kid anymore. You can’t make me be that person again, JJ.” He looked up at the cameras and shook his head. “Even if you bring my mom into this, she’d NEVER tell me I was a waste. She loved me for who I was and more so for who I became.” He turned his back to the woman on the floor. “You’ve lost.”

She lunged again, but he was ready. As he side-stepped once more and she again lackadaisically rolled, he calmly got her back and pulled her into a tight chokehold, ranching on her neck with all his might. The expression never wavering from that of utter pity, the grip never ceasing when she bit, scratched and thrashed. I hear the voices of two boys, both begging him to stop as unseen hands pull at his arms. They sound so familiar, but it’s not until Warren speaks again, strained against their influence, but undeterred.

“You can pull out as many voices from my past as you want, but you won’t break me. I’m sorry Frankie, I’m sorry I let you and my younger self down.”

The scene remained on this for a few moments as the thrashing grew fainter and the woman began whimpering. Then, she stopped.

I looked back at Mathias and saw him still groaning on the floor. I noted the black bottle underneath the desk and looked to the second monitor.

Preston pushed all his bodyweight against the door until it broke open, whatever was crawling through the basement nipping at his heels as he slammed it shut, breathing heavily. He looked around the room and his eyes fell on his brother stood in the centre of his room. Hank was covered in wounds and complex scars from head to toe, some looking like symbols where others simply looked random. He was naked and his torso was drenched in blood, face still blurred. The camera focuses in on him as he stands unflinching despite the surrounding carnage, the shaking from beneath him or the strange lights emitting from off screen.

It was the exact moment Preston had sat and watched so many years ago.

Someone says something that I can’t pick up, and Hank replies with “Ready” before clasping his hands across the blur on his face.

Preston runs over and stands in front of him, only part of his face visible but clearly distressed.

“Hank, I’m begging you. PLEASE don’t listen to him. He’s just going to take you the way he took the others. But if you listen to me, we can fight back. I know you’ve had anger problems and I know you have your flaws, but I love you and I know you wouldn’t do this.”

Hank cocked his head to the side, the blur obscuring any emotion from both myself and from him. Preston grabbed him by the shoulders and looked straight at him, the smashing on the door growing louder as a low hum filled the room.

“Hank, they took Esther. They took your baby girl and I swear I won’t let them take you. We can do this together. Like a family.”

This seemed to snap him out of it. He pulled at the blur on his head again and the ripping of skin and the strain in his voice. But instead of a pulpy, fleshy mass underneath, the face of a grief stricken and exhausted man staring back.

“You were always a good brother, Preston. Nothing will ever change that. All I can do now is change how this ends.” He pulls him in for a hug and kisses the top of his head before grabbing his gun and running to the door, pulling it open and running down as Preston stood, dumbfounded.

In that momentary lapse of focus, Mathias scarpered and ran for the far end of the room where an old door sat. He looked back at me just the once, a look of shock and betrayal wracking his face. With that, he ran upstairs.

I thought to follow him, but I instinctively knew where he was already going. The main office on the top floor.

I looked to the last monitor and watched Millie as she made her choice. Her head lifted, and she heard what we all heard, tears falling from her face and the saddest smile I have ever seen.

“I can’t stop what’s happened. I can only change what happens next.” She breathed, chuckling. “Man, if that ain’t the shittiest mantra I’ve ever come up with.”

She looks at the still swaying form of a mantis-ladened JJ for a moment before walking towards the suffering tree, much to Barclays surprise as he follows behind.

“So long, I carried the pain of what you did with me. I ran from it to the point I totally changed myself down to the very fabric of my identity.” She stood in front of the tree and the branch lowered her decaying brother, his fearful eyes locked onto hers, mouth open in a silent scream. “But I don’t regret one fucking bit of it. It was like excising a tumour, piece by piece, until the day came when I was free of its grip.”

She looks up, and the camera pans up with her, a pair of rotted bodies being pumped by thicker branches reach out to her, both looking familiar to her.

“But all this… whether it’s real or not, it’s not what I want. I got what I wanted by getting away and I continue to win by living, by experiencing a world beyond your boundaries. By being someone you would pass in the street and never know was your own daughter. I don’t want or need this.” She reached a hand out to her brother, who in turn reached out his as the parents looked on from high above, trying in vain to reach themselves. She grabbed his hand and sighed.“I don’t forgive you, but I hope your god does.”

With that, she pulled her lighter out with her free hand and set it on her brothers arm, the fire rapidly spreading up the tree and turning it into a towering inferno within seconds, countless branches blackening and the recipients all screeching in a cacophony of suffering. Barclay stumbling back as an errant branch wrapped around him in fear and pulled him towards it, his screaming joining theirs as he’s lifted into the air, the shot focused on a stone-faced Millie until the fire consumed his body and the camera fell to the ground with a sharp thud.

In that moment, the entire building grows silent. Eerily silent. I can hear my heart still beating in my chest, the adrenaline rushing through my veins and the fear creeping up the back of my neck as I realise I have to follow Mathias up those stairs.

A door in the room swings open and Warren, Preston and Millie all stumble out, rubbing their eyes and looking disoriented. Not a single speck of light can be seen behind them before the door slams shut.

I don’t even hesitate to run over and hold them, enjoying the brief moment of respite we earned through our struggles.

That lasted about 10 seconds before we were sucked back into reality.

We hear a knocking on the tv and a soft, low moan. Followed by a giggle that we would be able to pick out of a crowd of over 500.

We turn as the fourth tv flickers on and JJ Watson shows his face. He’s grinning, straightening his bowtie and brushing down his three piece suit.

“I wanted to look good for the occasion, since this is our family reunion and all.” He winked and the smile that had haunted my nightmares grew to its full width, something vibrating in the back of his mouth. “Look at all of you. Mathias told me you’d grown up, but I didn’t think he meant literally! All of you have become such upstanding citizens… But you still have a price to pay.” He points a digit at us all, his smile never wavering and his eyes never blinking. “All of you are here for a reason and I am chomping at the bit to meet you.” The lights dim and for a split second, something flashes on the screen in JJ’s place. HIs form… shifts. Like someone interlaced another image perfectly over his. Many eyes, teeth, sharp edges and an unchecked tidal wave of malice emanated from him for just a moment, before it switched back.

I knew the others felt it, looking at everyone and seeing the confidence they accrued in those rooms had dissipated. But, none were deterred. We looked to the door I’d seen Mathias running through and then nodded to one another. JJ uttered one last phrase before we set off for the door, for the final encounter;

“Reunion.”