et-reader97: Thank you so much! And yeah, Chapter Three was definitely one hell of a chapter, but I'm glad you enjoyed it. Also, don't worry. You'll have some more sweet and tender moments soon enough. ;D
I had such fun writing this chapter! Not only was it where I finally get to stretch those old world building muscle (said muscles being kept in a closet, forgotten, for several years 'til now), but it was also where I got to make some creepy as hell imagery with some background characters!
This is also probably the longest chapter I have so far, so geez. Anyways, enjoy the read!
Favorites and Follows are thanked. Reviews are encouraged!
The monochromatic colors of black and white swallowed them whole. It pulled them in, not hungerly, but welcoming. Screens promised hell yesterday now promised safety and escape.
Six and Mono stood between two worlds. Too surreal to explain, but too detailed to forget. The gate behind them delivered the last sounds from that reality. Garbled noises covered the true sounds, but the rough landing into water was undeniable.
Something shattered. The two didn't have enough time to jump or observe as they were pulled towards the connected screen. Hands stayed connected, fearful of and for the other. The screens' promised themselves to him, and only him. Those connected to him came along. There was no testing what would happen to Six if she wasn't gripping onto his wrist. She would probably turn back into a monster. And Moo would not know how to reverse that.
A blinding light was thrown at them. Momentarily, neither of them could see.
All at once gravity came back to their bodies. They were forced through something that felt slick and silky until it popped like a bubble and they were hurled back into the world. The sound of a television shaking and glass spewing everywhere from its frames was the first thing heard.
Pain was the first thing he felt. Mono was thrown onto a hard surface after coming out from the screen. He opened his eyes, feeling dizzy and sick. Limbs shook as he got to his feet, an elbow scraping against a bottle close to half his height.
Immediately, his eyes widened. The pain was ignored. Through the holes of his paper bag, he could make out faces.
He flared his hands towards them, eyes screwed shut. Expectations of teeth ripping apart his skin slowly faded. Nothing came from his fingers, as he was drained. There was a small exclaim of fear amongst the figures.
Mono opened his eyes again. They adjusted to the little light that swayed above all the occupants. It wasn't the area which he was brought to, but the interesting collection of creatures that sat in from him on stools that spark curiosity in Mono. Many of the stools had been emptied when the television suddenly shattered and two children were thrown out somewhere from within its black innards.
But there was a sense of wrongness to call these people creatures. Mono tuned into them with his senses, just like he did with Six. Deep inside of them, they were human. They weren't lost, and even if some of them were, they were somehow found. But even if they were humans, something still touched them and changed them in monstrous ways.
If Mono hadn't decided to tune into them, appearances would be quick to judge. Ironic for him considering who he was.
The people all looked different. Some wore dirty bandages that covered mouths on eyes or the stubs of limbs that were previously severed. Some had skin tones of odd colors, like a light ghastly blue or a too bright yellow. Scabs and scars that would never fade away drew themselves around arms and legs and necks. There was a woman with no skin on her nose. She breathed heavily through her mouth, which she wore a gas mask over. Some missed fingers and some had morphed fingers, but Mono could never take his eyes off the most grotesque ones of all.
There was a man whose head looked like it was pulled in all different directions like taffy. There was a young teen who had all teeth exposed and no mouth skin. There was a girl whose skin protruded on her arms and slightly on her neck almost like feathers. But the feathers grew inside her skin than outside. The girl has a face decorated with messy red hair that trailed down her back. She looked to be a few six inches taller than Mono, but not much older.
Mono looked at all these people, and for the first time became self conscious of his own appearance. But it wasn't for the fear of being recognized this time. He was more afraid that revealing his unsathed physique would be considered rude.
Slowly he lowered his arms. His fingers were tightened to a position that represented the pose of someone choking another. Nerves calmed. Mono cleared his throat.
"H... Hello?"
The people looked at each other. Fear was now replaced with confusion and curiosity. Some words were whispered, and Mono met with his own face of confusion.
Whatever was said, he couldn't understand it. It was almost like they spoke a language they only knew, and he spoke a language only he knew.
"'Ey ain't gonna undastand English, kid,'' a voice said behind him. Mono whipped his head around and caught the glance of an old man made of fungus.
Or, at least, he looked like it. His skin was a sickly green, blotches of bizarre shades of brown and red mixed in. Threads of weeds and sticks stuck up in the bald mess of his hair. Some of those weeds bloomed tiny white flowers. Speckles of unusual dark circles covered parts around his nose and eyes. They were the most visible around his ears, where they were crusted with a gross pulsing liquid. He smelt strange, like the forest. The scent of decay was not present on his man thank god.
Mono looked straight at him. His eyes were pure white and milky. "Oh... But you speak English, right?"
The old man scoffed. "Wee bit. 'Eachers be 'osty. Oughta pick up wu'ever I get."
"What do you speak?"
"Nat've 'ongue."
Mono didn't know what the native tongue was around these parts. He slowly shook his head, bag rustling against his ears.
"Aye. Figures." The man turned to the girl with feathered skin. She sounded like she asked for something. Her request was answered when the man gave her a bottle full of mysterious liquid. She said something to him, presumably a thank you, and ran off with the bottle in her hands.
The man turned back to Mono. "Speakin' English oughta 'ean ya ain't 'rum heres. Know 'er yee are?"
"No sir."
"Polite, ey? 'Er yee 'rum then?"
"The Pale City sir."
The man froze. The people standing around froze. Everyone froze. Except Mono.
Slowly, the man repeated his question: "...'Er yee 'rum ag'in?"
"The-" Mono was hesitant to respond. He sensed something was wrong with his prior answer. He couldn't lie though. "The Pale City?"
Someone screamed. The old man grabbed a bottle and chucked it at them. It sounded like it missed as glass shattered almost immediately. He shouted something in that language to that person and almost reached for another bottle. The person who screamed before left in a frenzy. Mono watched the hand retreat.
A word was muttered beyond the crowd. It was an English word through and through. The little boy with the paper bag tried to ignore them, but it was hard.
But the old man ignored them too.
"Yee ought 'nore 'em too. Don't know 'er sayin'." He looked at the broken TV. "Ther' Tansermion stopped."
Mono translated the broken words as best he could inside his head. He nodded. "I know sir."
He got their interest. All of them.
The old man went "Er?".
They were all waiting for something. They wanted to hear it- "The Transmission is gone. The Thin Man is gone. The Pale City is freed!". But while most of those were true, some of them weren't. The Transmission might have been gone as it was, but the Thin Man was not. The Pale City might have been freed, but its waters brought it back down to prison. Mono didn't know what to say. Most of the stuff he wanted to saw he was afraid to.
Instead: "I-I've never met anybody outside of the city before..." Some flinched, like his words were a sharp knife against their tendons."
"Figures."
"Eight is a figure. If you're asking me to dance, then yes- I'll do so on your grave."
That was a threat, but Mono knew Six's voice from anywhere. He hadn't seen her for a while until she popped out from behind some of the bottles. One fell and became a river of glittering black on the floor. The old man's mouth twitched, but he didn't move towards her. Mono, filled with relief, almost wanted to climbed those shelves and hug her, but he wasn't stupid. He was just worried. She had a nasty line of blood seeping down one of her nostrils.
At first, he was confused why the old man hadn't tried attacking her. Mono pieced together he was a rather blunt, proud man who did not like the over exaggerations of others. He had a reason behind every doing and would gladly speak positively about those doings. Mono also knew he did not speak English very well, but he seemed to understand it just fine. Besides, the man did not look conflicted at Six's snark. Instead he looked angry. And fearful for some odd reason.
And then it hit Mono. Maybe they could all tell what the secret monster each other had. Maybe they could sense Six's void of hunger, and how she would become a free cannibalistic animal right at the snap of a finger. That made sense was they couldn't tell what his hidden monster was or if he had one.
Mono didn't. He was born this way.
Another bottle crashed onto the floor. That one seemed almost purposeful. Six skimmed across the shelves, flaring her agility at the other who could not. With a leap from a distance, she landed onto the table Mono was standing on. She faced him for a moment, wiping away the trail of crimson off her face with a sleeve.
The old man's eyes flickered like dying bulbs. "Two of yee?"
Perhaps in an act of defence, Six put her arm against Mono's chest and fished out the lighter from her pocket. The casing opened, and with a small click, a gentle flame erupted from its source.
The fire was contained and small and harmless, but several of the mutated people back away from them as if they held poison. Which was interesting to Mono.
He snatched the lighter from Six and moved his hand closer to the people. They shied away, grabbing onto their neighbors to use as potential meat shields. Mono flashed it at the teen with visible teeth. He was hissed at. A human with thick clumps of skin tainted a glistening red whimpered at the flame.
He could've thought these people were weak. But Mono understood their fear. And he thought that something was odd with the shared fear that the same time.
Mono closed the lighter. The light died out as it was smothered with darkness and the lack of oxygen. It went back to Six, who put it away.
"I don't want us to look like we mean harm-"
"Failed 'er 'at." Six gave the man a flash of teeth in a snarl.
"But we don't know where we are. And we don't speak your language..."
"Neevill..."
Mono frowned at the crowd's whispered remark. He spread out his arms, trying to figure out if there was a universal sign for "I mean no harm" or "I give you nothing but unconditional love".
People just recoiled from him. That wasn't a very nice feeling.
"Kids 'ike yee 'er blind to horrors," the man said. "Fellers 'ike 'ese seen stuff. Horror's stuff. Ain't oughta 'rust two kids flung outta 'vision."
"Funny. How many children have you seen being flung out of a television?" Six asking snarkily.
"Just yee two."
Mono and Six looked at each other.
"Oddities, I'd 'ay. She 'ot hunger, but yee-'' A fat finger detailed with oily lumps of skin pointed at Mono. "-Yee 'ot nothin'. Yee 'ear a bag 'o. Why?"
Because the world hated him. But instead he said, "Because you'd be afraid of me." And it was true.
The crowd murmured. The old man made of fungus raised a brow. Those dark spots around his eye like scales raised with it. Six crouched beside Mono, ready to fight or bolt if some event of nastiness was to occur.
Expectations were broken twice today. "'Ake it off."
Suddenly, Mono had an all too familiar shiver trail up his spine. Mouth became dry, limbs heavy.
"P-Pardon?"
"Yee 'eard me!" Fungus man was right about that.
Why was it so hard to say no? Why was it so hard to dig his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat and deny orders? He'd done it before, and it wasn't that hard. He'd said no to the Thin Man and destroyed it. He'd rejected the temptations the Pale City threw at him. Why couldn't he tell the fungus man Mono'd rather keep it on and that was the end of the story? It was an easy answer to Mono, as these people were survivors of horrors. And he and Six were survivors of horrors as well.
The brown paper crinkled against Mono's fingers. Gently, he lifted it up from his head, hair scraping against the insides at contact. His vision got wider, his face felt colder. Eyes naturally angular and dark in color searched through all of the face.
Slowly, Mono looked at the old man. It looked like someone sucked out his source of life, those greens and reds and browns looking so pale. The expression was clear. The old man and Mno had never met before this, but he might have met the Transmission. And there was only one monster that was connected to that signal.
Words were silenced. Nobody spoke. Mono held the paper bag close to his chest, adding new crumples and dents to it.
All at once, eyes spoke one word and one word only.
You.
Mono expected waves of panic. He scrunched his eyes.
"...Yee ain't it."
"I know."
"Yee 'er suppose 'ta be it."
Mono's response was a whisper. "Yes."
"But yee aint..."
The old man looked at the mutated humans and barked at them. It was unclear of what he said, but it seemed to get all of the occupants out of the building. Now it was just Mono, Six and the fungus man.
Fungus man cleared the table, taking away the cups and plates and bowls. He vanished briefly into a side room, coming back with a small bowl with bread and small hunks of cheese and meat. The meat was slimy and smelt odd, and the bread had small spots of blue hidden within its caverns. The cheese was a little hard, but at least it seemed safe to consume.
Mono wasn't really hungry anymore. Eating only a few bites, he passed the rest of his share to Six, which was fine. She would need it more than he would if they wanted to keep her from going into a ravenous frenzy.
"Yee two 'ame 'rum the city. But ain't comin' 'ack 'ta it... Know 'er yee outta go 'ta 'fore the Lady 'ines ya."
Mono's gaze lifted up to the man. "The Lady?"
A pluck of slimy meat was picked up with those fat oily fingers and plopped into a mouth equally green. Silva trickled down the side of his mouth as he chewed. Finally, he swallowed and picked up another piece. The fungus man did not put this piece into his mouth just yet.
"Aye. The Lady. Outta know 'er. Tansmerion 'ot power 'n west, Lady 'ear waters. Er- salt waters. Fellers talk 'out 'm ship 'amed eh Maw."
Six looked up at him, mid chew.
"W-We're heading to the Maw. Or, at least, we need to get there," Mono said.
The fungus man barked out with laughter. "Yee ain't goin'."
"Why not?"
"'Lace full 'o temptation. Glutt'ny 'akes a'ay souls 'n 'earts. Come 'bord, n'er leave." He spoke of it like an old sailor's tale. Almost like a story weaved with warnings to keep others from venturing further.
However, the story was being told to the wrong person. In hopes to throw the fear back, Mono raised a hand at several of those glass bottles. He expected them all to shake and shutter and shatter into a million tiny glass shards that flew out everywhere. But he wasn't there yet. Only a few broke, cracking on the bottom to where it became too unstable to stay upwards. They tumbled downwards into small pieces of glass, spilling down onto the floor.
Mono looked at the old man, eyes cold and narrowed further. It seemed to be enough to scare him. He looked back at Mono with that same pale tint to his skin like before.
"...'Haps I can 'ake yee 'er."
"You have a boat?" Six asked, hands being wiped against her sides.
"Aye," Fungus man replied, now smiling. "'N 'act, 'ey call me the Ferryman 'round 'es 'arts."