A/N: Please do leave feedback I've been getting almost none for this story lately, so I don't know if you are liking where the story is going or not.
The light was all wrong. Justin observed the source – affixed to the ceiling at the center – a regular light bulb surrounded by an elliptical disc – and he knew what kind of light that source should produce, but that was NOT the kind of light Justin discerned. The light was white and cold, like track lighting in a hospital, and didn't radiate so much as come down in a solid cylinder maybe a foot and a half across, from the source down to the ground. The source should have radiated a warm yellow light outward, hitting various parts of the room obliquely, producing deeper and deeper shadows in concentric circles from the middle of the room outward. Instead, there was a single circle of light that seemed to drain everything of all color and only pitch black outside.
The light also emitted sound, though Justin knew that that was wrong, too. Track lighting hummed and buzzed. Regular light bulbs generally did not. The sound seemed to grow louder with each passing second and to vibrate and echo against the floor and walls. Justin could feel the vibrations flowing into his body and up, up, up, coalescing in his head, amplifying each other, until the sound became a pain, one that was nearly unbearable.
Justin focused on Brian. Everything around Brian seemed distorted, out of phase, like reality itself was vibrating and bending around Brian. That vibration had a sound, too, but not the sound of the light. The light sound was composed of many, many short fast pulses that combined to form a hum or a buzz. The reality distortion was composed of much fewer, slower sounds, like the sound of a small airplane flying up, up, up, and down, down, down over and over again, a low wahhh sound that periodically repeated. Within the distortion, only Brian stood in perfect relief. He was talking to a figure sitting at a computer. The figure didn't even look like a person, resembling more a gargoyle than a man, short, thick, hunched over, and arms and legs sort of curled inward.
Justin tried to hear what Brian and the gargoyle were saying. That was more difficult. Their voices seemed to be embedded in static that grew louder and softer, louder and softer. The surges in volume meant that their words were interspersed with (and thus obscured by) a crackling that set Justin's teeth on edge.
He only heard snatches of what Brian was saying. The gargoyle might as well have been silent from Justin's perspective.
Justin heard "lawyer," "sue," "court of public opinion."
The light, the hum, the wah, the static, and the distortion bore down on Justin by degrees until his head felt like it would explode, his skin crawled, and his stomach turned. He needed to get out of there. He currently stood just inside the building a little to the left of the door. He reached behind him until he felt the cool metal of the door knob, turned the knob and pushed the door open, and then actually walked backwards out the door. Unfortunately, Justin had not realized that night had fallen while they were inside. Truth be told, his internal clock was on the fritz. He'd temporarily lost the ability to feel the passage of time. It could have been seconds or hours for all he knew.
So he backed OUT into complete darkness (the parking lot was not lit and a cloud bank had just passed over the moon). AND he backed INTO something, a tall, solid someONE, in fact. Justin had been so on edge for however long he and Brian had been inside the building housing the porn site they'd gone to investigate and so freaked out by red hoody guy from earlier that the moment Justin's back encountered the resistance of this unknown person's chest, Justin wheeled around and threw a punch, a punch that actually landed, connecting with this someone's jaw. That punch sent the person reeling backward, partly due to the surprise of it and partly due to the force behind it (few emotions are stronger than abject terror). Without even thinking, Justin exploited the several seconds the punch had bought him. He knocked down and jumped on the someone. Then he started punching wildly. The someone tried to grab Justin's arms, but, failing that, wrapped his arms around his face to try to ward of some of the blows Justin was raining down, almost on autopilot.
In that moment, the someone was one of the soccer players who had beaten Aiden to a bloody pulp; Chris Hobbs, Justin's former friend and crush who had taken from Justin much too much of Justin's artistic ability, his confidence, his belief that the world was largely a safe place, and even his family; the cop who lost evidence to allow Hobbs to escape prosecution; Ethan, who had used and emotionally abused Justin, exposed his most private moments to the world for profit, and even nearly cost Justin Brian with the assault charge; Daphne's father, who had poisoned her against Justin, thus forcing Justin to endure his darkest hours alone and leave him prey to opportunistic manipulators; Kenneth, the man who was determined to steal Justin's daughter from him, even if that meant ruining his entire life; and even the red hoody man, who'd so terrified Justin with his creepy stalkery behavior that Justin had nearly suffered a panic attack that afternoon, and out in the open. In that moment, that someone represented every man who'd ever hurt Justin (and even Justin's proxy, James). And Justin was pissed.
By the time Brian emerged from the building, grinning, tape in hand, Justin had beaten the someone into unconsciousness. That was also, coincidently, when the cloud bank covering the moon completed its pass and moved off, sending rays of gentle white light down onto the someone's face. The light stopped Justin, forced his consciousness to return. Justin gaped.
Justin immediately recognized the someone. Or at least his clothing.
Red hoody man.
Dizzying questions swirled in Justin's head: How the hell had red hoody man gotten to Altoona from Pittsburgh? Why had he been at the loft? Why was he lurking near this particular building? The answer seemed clear. He was following them. Or at least Brian, since Justin rarely left the safety of the loft.
Brian had no clue what he'd walked out into.
He saw Justin straddling a strange man and beating him to the point that he'd broken the man's nose, blackened both his eyes, and caused a scary swelling in his jaw. Justin was also spattered with blood (probably from the broken nose). Tears streamed down his face, and he was making a low, deep keening sound. The sound stopped a few moments after Brian stepped out, when the moon shone down on Justin and the stranger. Justin was aware of none of this. He didn't know he was covered in blood or crying. He didn't know he'd been crying out as though to mourn a loved one who'd died (in the this scenario, the loved one had been himself, or a version of himself – the strong, hopeful, talented one). And until the moon emerged from the cloud bank, he'd had no idea how much damage he'd caused (if any). Seeing the man, recognizing him, and realizing what he'd done, Justin was in shock. He slid off the man onto the asphalt, crossed his legs, hugged himself with his arms, and started rocking.
Brian knelt down and starting rubbing Justin's back. After a few moments, Justin stopped rocking, but still sat cross-legged, still hugged himself with his arms, still looked but saw nothing. Brian leaned closer, pressed his forehead against Justin's temple, and whispered, "Who is this?"
Justin shook his head. He croaked, "I don't know. I don't know. I saw him hanging out in front of our building earlier today, before we left. Now he's here. I think …. I think he's been following us."
Brian openly gaped for a long moment. He couldn't breathe, and his heart stopped beating. Then he shut his eyes tight and forced his lungs to work, breathing deeply in and out. That's all it took for him to decide. He stood, helped Justin up, and led him to and situated him inside the Jeep. Then he went back, grabbed the stranger and threw him, like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, carrying him to the Jeep. He laid him in the back seat, and then grabbed rope from inside his gym bag (he'd used them the last time he'd ascended the highest rock climbing wall at the gym – as a precaution to prevent himself from falling). With that, he secured the man's arms and legs.
Brian was glad Justin still seemed largely unaware of what was going on around him because he ended up leaving Justin and the man in the Jeep together, while Brian located the car the stranger had likely been driving and rifled through it, grabbing a camera bag, a briefcase, and a duffle bag before returning to the Jeep. Then he drove off. He had no clue what they should do, but he knew he had to protect Justin. Brian needed to prevent the man from going to the cops (although he probably wouldn't if he was a private investigator or other thug hired to follow them), and they needed answers. So Brian stopped at the nearest motel and booked them a room.