Mavis misted between the lattices of the metal gating to sift under the gaps of the glass doors behind it, hearing Bossman sourly mutter something that sounded like 'breakable' as she did so, and 'stupid ninja'. She decided she was better off not knowing.

This was a clothing store instead of basic fabrics, which was even better, in fact this place was perfect. It was out of the way, small, thrift-y looking. When she inhaled she could smell the mustiness in the air from it being closed for so long, but it still smelled clean-ish, with the comforting musk of thick textiles and the faint, sharp, bleach-y after-scent of surface cleaners, muted with the aroma of dust, lint, and the faint bite of potential snow from outside. Actually, if you discount the bleach-y smell and the weather, the atmosphere scent-wise reminded her a bit of her dad's closet.

The homesickness was a heavy, unexpected pang in the stomach, sticking in the back of her throat and stinging behind her eyes. She stood still for a moment, swallowing emptily, suddenly feeling small, suddenly sharply, achingly wanting for home and the people that made it. Flickers in the edges of her peripheral vision and around the room suggested the silent, subtle exploration of the shadows.

'The lady is unwell?' she hears the one named 'John' ask from her shoulder, 'You cry?'

She shook her head, gulping again, quickly wiping at her eyes, "No, no, I'm fine, thanks, it's just the dust."

'Dust can be saddening.' John agrees candidly.

They watch his fellow shadows dart more openly along the walls.

'Safe place,' Bossman decides, stopping in front of her, 'Safe for now.'

'Is this interesting?' Curio piped up, 'Is this the interesting thing we're finding?'

Mavis nodded at them, smiling after swallowing the sadness down.

'. . . It doesn't look interesting.' Curio mumbled, before immediately quailing under Bossman's glare.

Mavis was quick to reassure the shadow, having expected this, "We can make a game of it."

All of them immediately crowded her.

'A game?'

'A fun game?'

'What kind of game?'

"A finding game," she laughed, "And then a 'pretend' game."

'Rules? Reward? Objective?' Bossman asked shrewdly.

Mavis smirked.

"The rules are simple. The reward? We-ell, we'll talk later... As to the objective..."

. . .

For a moment the room is quiet.

"So he's one of yours, huh?" Jekyll muttered, glancing from It to the unconscious human on the table.

"You ordered Baba to put a spell on him. You made sure he'd survive the blast..."

"Of course I did. And it seems he will still live yet." It observed bluntly, straightening from Its examination of Johnny, "Fortunately for you."

"Oh. Oh, yes," the ghost chuckled, a twisted smirk on his face, "Yes, I see. It wouldn't do for toys to break so easily, would it?"

"Oh-h...?" It now focused more on the ghost, with the impression of a sad smile, "Is that jealousy? You wound me, doctor. None of you were ever toys..."

"Could've fooled me." Jekyll replied, face suddenly closed-off, calculating, "And I wasn't going to kill him. Intentionally."

It 'tsk'ed, moving around the table to be in front of the ghost, tilting Its head, "It shouldn't have stayed this long in him. It should've died with the blast. Remove it."

Jekyll blankly raised his mangled hand. It was slowly re-gathering itself, but it looked gross, melted and weak, and almost completely translucent.

It laughed at that, "I see. Best do it myself then, eh?" It looks back at Johnny, considering, "But...not now. He needs to be aware of his thievery."

"Of course." the ghost murmured, quietly raising the scalpel with his uninjured hand while Its back was turned. If the boy was Its investment... He'd be doing the kid a favor. Jekyll moves through It, scalpel raised high, ready to drive it into the boy still laying on the table.

He'd already made the calculations. The heart wouldn't do while the spell was still going strong, too much chance of it saving its host. Throat or eye, higher chance of immediate death, enough strength to break through the orbital fissure to hit the brain? Yes. Immediate brain death, least blood equals less spell interference, most ideal. Efficient. Merciful.

Jekyll barely nicks the boy's eyelid. The scalpel falls from his hand once more as he spasms in pain, mouth agape in a strained, silent scream.

"I'm disappointed." It sighs, carefully drawing the ghost back by Its hand embedded in his spine, and Jekyll grits his teeth.

"S-so I lied...a little... Malpractice?! Sue me...?" he managed to laugh, hearing the edge of hysteria in his own voice. Incorporeal or not, dead or not, this. Really. Hurt.

And he was so close, too.

Dammit. Sorry, Johnny...

"You were a rewarding investment while you lived, one that I still hold some fondness for," It goes on to tell him gently, dragging him away from the table and the human on it, "So I won't hold this little lapse against you. So here's how things will go. Are you listening?"

"Reluctantly." Jekyll snarled, and he was flung against the wall, Its hand slipping free from between the nonexistent ribs of his back.

"You'll fix him as needed," It tells him, idly cleaning off Its hand while the doctor is crippled with the pain of feeling of his spine twisting itself back together.

"And you will let him go and leave him alive for me."

"I'm dead," he chuckled weakly, using the wall to stand, "And you've been long done with me. What can you do or say to me now for me to consider your request?"

It smiles at him, and too late he remembers that It likes those kinds of questions.

"Many things." It promises, and is on him before he can think to move.

. . .

'I spy with my little eye,' Curio chanted, 'Something...uh...'

The shadow trails off to leave it at that.

'Is it white?' Bossman reluctantly asks from the other end of the store.

'No.'

'Black?'

'Nuh-uh.'

'Then what is it?'

'A door.'

'That's―you're a terrible spy.'

'It's a game!'

'We're already playing one, now keep looking!'

"I'll look at the door," Mavis told Curio, abandoning the rack she'd been searching, taking John with her, "Remember, white dress, black or dark suit."

'Yes!'

'Okay.'

When the lady leaves, Curio hissed to Bossman, 'What does white look like?'

'It's a 'color'.' Bossman snapped.

'What is a color?'

'It's, uh,' Bossman fluttered agitatedly, 'It's like black but not, different shades of dark. We saw color once! We'll know color when we see it!'

He grumbled as he held up a neon orange tie by its shadows, 'This. Does this look white?'

'I'm not sure,' Curio said blankly, 'It looks strangle-y. Is strangle-y a color?'

Curio then fled from Bossman's trying to test the strangle-y-ness on him.

. . .

She misted under the door Curio had 'spied', watching John sweep along the walls.

'Smaller place.' he comments, 'Same things.'

"It's a storage area," Mavis told him, seeing more racks of clothes that looked in better shape than the ones outside. Probably newly shipped in. She saw crude mannequins, too, and on one of them she thought she saw something interesting, before she and John heard crashing and squealing from the other room.

'Lady-y-y, Bossman tries to strangle me with color! HELP!'

'Names do not suit us! Stop snitching!'

She'd look at it later.

. . .

"You remember this part, don't you?" It asks Jekyll over his screaming, while one hand is wrapping around his spine and the other is gripping into his skull, as It pulls him apart, as It rips his soul in two. "You remember how I listened to your fears? How I gave you the ingredients you wanted, the incentive you needed. Then you remember what the mirror showed you afterwards, don't you, doctor? And then later, when you couldn't stand what you saw in that mirror, the gun? You better remember the gun, that was one of the best PARTS..."

Of course he remembers, but the ghost really isn't in a position to speak at the moment. It abruptly changes Its tone, sounding gentler.

"Wasn't it...worth it, though? Eating that 'fruit', gaining all knowledge and power of 'Good' and 'Evil' so you would know the difference and could separate them?"

It pulled him apart further, not separating head from body, but one from the other. He'd stopped screaming at this point. Bones splinter and reform, skin tears to show flashes of ripe, red muscle tissue, stretches unnaturally, the fabric of the clothing tears like and along with the body that wears it, not to separate, but to divide. The process is disturbingly silent beyond the ghost's exclamations of pain, even in all its surreal, gruesomely vivid detail. Why would it make a sound, anyway, when the body doesn't technically exist? Well, it exists enough for the ghost, it can be supposed...

"Wasn't it glorious, seeing the monster you'd become? Such a legend you left, it struck such unease..."

Now It holds two bodies that It examines for a moment before unceremoniously dumping them to the floor.

"How was it," It purrs down at him, "To truly fear yourself and yet love that fear, Henry? Do you remember? Because I certainly do."

"'S comin' back to me now..." one of him grunts weakly, and Jekyll shakily stands up, both of him.

One stood straight enough, sober, but with a slightly chill, calculating glint to his eyes. The other was in a slight hunch, with a warm smile but manic eyes.

One wears a clean name tag with clean print. Dr. Jekyll. The other one simply has one sloppily clipped to his coat, with HIDE scrawled on it in thick red marker.

The cold-glinting eyes narrow and the smile draws into a snarling grimace as he sees himself, and It looks on with a mix between pride and amusement.

When suddenly, the one with the grimace smiles again, offering a hand. Then It blinks as the cool-eyed one accepts it.

"Dr. Jekyll, you handsome bastard..." one laughs faintly.

"Mr. Hyde." the other says, smiling dryly, shaking the hand in return.

Jekyll-Hyde turns to It, who looks taken aback.

"Is this all that's up your sleeve these days, Spooks?" he asks with a sneer, "I cleaned out this closet decades ago."

"It was quite cathartic, a good practice in Freudianism." he thought to add.

It blinks, then settles back into a contented smile, "Huh. I'll be happy for this...unexpected success, then. You've grown. Well done," It decides, "I find you better to work with when you're two minds about a thing any way. Alright, clearly this no longer works on you, so what else takes up your psyche these years?" It looks like It's thinking for a moment, and then It smiles, "Your research... Alright. I'll let you study the boy, if you don't kill him or tell him about me." Then It turns serious, "The girl, too, the vampire. You may examine her, but examine only. You will leave her uninfluenced. She's mine, owed to me. Am I understood?"

". . . Why would I want to leave them to you," Jekyll asked politely, as the room's lights begin to darken, "When I hate you, and they would frankly be better off dead?"

"A mercy killing, less of a headache overall, murder saves the day, and I get one over you." Hyde agreed. The walls of the room begin to shake, the instruments rattle, and It almost looks surprised as the floor shifts under Its feet in warning. "You're in my OR now, bitch." he added in a dark chuckle.

It suddenly smiled slowly, "Two reasons for your interest. One," It murmured, "I now know your new fear, and two, the vampire girl is a Dracula..."

That got the doctor's attention, as both of him blinked. The room stilled. The lights brighten.

"No kidding?" Hyde muttered.

"Owed to you...?" Jekyll asked.

It nodded, the smile turning slightly sardonic, "In a way, yes. She's no mere investment. She is a project. One that's been a very long time in the making. Makes you curious, doesn't it?" It suddenly dropped the smile, "So you'll probably understand my displeasure if my project suddenly acquired some unnecessary variables. I'll cut to the quick. If you interfere with anything I have going on, I will not only destroy you, but all of your work. All of your research, your notes, your files, copies and all, I will destroy every single scientific, written, tangible trace you've left on this earth until you wouldn't even be remembered as another mad quack with a split-personality disorder. You would be without dignity, memory, or even a legacy. You would be truly dead."

Both parts of Jekyll stay silent in the wake of this threat, and It nods.

". . . So long as we understand each other," It murmurs, looking briefly back at Johnny, "Another investment of mine may be coming through here, too. He'll be hunting after her. Same as with me, you won't interfere or warn them about him. I trust I am understood?"

Jekyll nods, "Completely." while Hyde growls, "Get the fuck out of my hospital, Spooks."

It smiles at him, before giving a wave, "Nice catching up with you, my dear nutcase. Your defibrillators are in that cabinet over there."

The light flickers harshly, Jekyll blinks, and just like that, It's gone.

Jekyll looks at himself, and then at the cabinet It had indicated, and then at the scalpel on the floor, and then at Johnny.

His halves started circling the table, eyeing its occupant critically.

"I could still kill him now." Hyde suggested, eyeing the scalpel, "I mean, really, do I want to leave him to It? There are worse things than death, I would know."

"But there's still the girl to consider, if not Its interest in her, then her connection to this kid." Jekyll murmured.

"Though I could kill her, too. I'd feel bad about it, sure, pay for it definitely, but what's saving a couple of innocent souls for a few more decades in purgatory?"

"Or...my killing him would further Its progress in what It calls Its project..."

"Though I don't know that for sure."

"But It would still destroy my work. I barely know this kid, what's his death worth for my sake? If I made it through Its designs then so could he."

"If I could call this 'making it'. . . Heh, alright, which part of me is the 'bad' one here?"

"No, not going through that migraine again, I clarified this already. It's decided. I'm not going to kill him."

". . . And I guess I do want to see what happens to him. It would be quite the show."

"But I'll do what I can for them. I am a doctor, after all."

"Short of saving them, of course."

"Well, if I think about it, this situation is a bit like cancer. Incurable, but prolongable. I'm only human."

"Ish."

"Details, details. Alright, that's settled, no killing, time to get myself together, then get the defibrillators..."

He makes a face at himself.

"I hate this part..."

. . .

Johnny sits up, feeling a slight soreness in his chest and behind his eyes. He's in...a cave. A dark tunnel of red rock. Like, really red, rough, damp with something, and...sticky, yuck. He blinks, and then realizes he can see fine, even without his glasses or his contacts. Okay then. This was trippy. He stands up and looks down at himself, and doesn't really know what to think. The war paint's still on him, though the handprint is gone, and he's crudely dressed in what looks like a coarse sheepskin.

. . .

Okay, this isn't the weirdest thing he's found himself wearing. Still, whose costume party is this?

Something makes a rattling drum sound in the distance, and though it's quiet, it carries a lot of weight. He feels it in his chest and under his feet, and the tunnel of red briefly ripples with light, a color that looks like the shade of his skin, highlighting shadows in the rock. Johnny looks up when he hears something from down the tunnel.

'Come here, hear,

invoker, skáld...'

It's more of a feeling than a sound. Shrugging, seeing nowhere else he can go, Johnny does, following the feeling down the strange tunnel.

This is a real trippy dream. He wonders when he's gonna wake up.

Then he wonders why he doesn't remember falling asleep.