I'm Going To Slowly Annoy You All: Yes, yes I know what a terrible person I am. Yes, yes I know I promised things that didn't happen. I would tell you all about my life (and the awesome excuses that come with aforementioned explanation), but I figure you guys would rather have, well, *cue music* the next episode of We Are the Dead! This time I'm not gonna promise things will come out soon or whatever (Life has taught me my lesson), but I shall promise that, ehem, things will eventually come out, whether it's WAtD or APoS or TTWS or FSaLiBH or even Vini Vidi Vici (cause some people want some more of that stuff? So I maybe might have considered continuing it...?). Either way, things will come. Though if I were to be, um, expecting "anything" relatively soon it would be another episode of We Are the Dead or part 2 of part 1 in FSaLiBH. Ciao!
P.S.: Really, how many of you want some more Vini Vidi Vici? Like, seriously, it's not a bad thing, but I was surprised at the number of people who asked for a continuation...so I have been slowly warming up to the idea of going along with the world I envisioned in that oneshot. I may need some help though...so if someone had any inspiration from it or ideas or whatever and really really really want a Vini Vidi Vici sequel or story or whatever, send me a PM and maybe between the two of us (or three or four or five or however many of you there are...or just me) something cool can come from it! Those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about and don't care, then you can skip this P.S. and read the next one.
P.P.S: Since this story is inspired in a "TV show" type way, I have been plotting out episodes and considering making this a Season One, Season Two, etc. type of thing where Season one would consist of twenty-or-so chapters and season two picks up with twenty-or-so chapters and etc. Someone either say "sure, let's try it" or "just shut up and write already, Bright!"
Anywho...thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, or followed! As, per usual, replies will be at the bottom.
I AM CHANGING THE RATING TO 'M' FOR LANGUAGE REASONS BECAUSE I CUSS A LOT. I DO NOT THINK THERE WILL BE A LEMON IN THIS STORY.
Creative Disclaimer: My friend and I saw a bus that was going to Unicorn Lake one time. No joke, the destination panel read UNICORN LAKE in big orange/yellow letters. The relevance of this short story? Well, let's just say I literally have a better chance of boarding a bus to freaking Unicorn Lake than I do of owning Soul Eater.
(as well as Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Oxi Clean, Tide, Guinness Book of World Records, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, Harry Potter...again, Freud's "id," Thor, Sonic the Hedgehog, the Matrix, Aquafina, Ritalin, Adderall, Price Is Right, Wheel of Fortune, Kenmore appliances, Dr. Pepper, Seventeen magazine, Wizard of Oz, or anything else I mentioned but don't own)
Enjoy!
-Episode 02-
Libraries, Newspapers, Trap Doors, Oh MY!
"You are the biggest, most annoying idiot to ever live…and die! Seriously!? Why the hell did you interrupt? She was about to talk to me!"
"Oh, quiet your jealousy, peasant. My godliness and greatness was, alas, too much for her. I'm sure my looks were quite a shock as well. Poor tiny-tits here has probably never held the attention of a male specimen as wondrous as I."
"…You're unbelievable."
"Thank you."
"Grim-you-it-uh-fuc-mm-!"
Distantly, through ears that felt stuffed full of cotton or like they needed a good pop after a trip on an airplane, Maka heard something crash and break.
"That wasn't a compliment!"
"To each their own, my friend. To each their own."
"…That doesn't even-!" A shaky exhale stirred the air around Maka's left hand, making her fingers twitch. She was suddenly aware of a pounding headache, her skull feeling like a bongo banged on by a child, and the scratchy sense of leather sticking to perspiring skin. "I can't do this with you right now, man. Call me when she starts to wake, 'mkay?" Soft retreating footfalls sounded, again on her left; they were hardly audible and seemed more like the shadows of footsteps rather than actual footsteps themselves. Maka tried to shift and open her eyes to see just exactly who was in her house but could only moan as the tiny shuffle caused her head pain to rise to an unbearable level.
A swirl of air, noticeable only because her skin was covered in an almost feverish sweat, passed over her.
"Hey dude! I think she's-" There was a crack of something reminiscent to skin slapping skin and muffled syllables.
"Shut up, Star."
It was scary how heavy her eyelids were and how much time it took to blink them once. But after overcoming that first hurdle and the searing whiteness of her sight coming back, the fatigued girl blearily rubbed each eye with a palm before letting them adjust on the two other individuals in the room.
Maka had to flutter her eyelids a couple of times before it dawned on her that two extremely boyish figures were curiously leaning over her. And staring hardcore at her.
So she reacted on instinct—a high pitched wail echoed in the room; a fist collided loudly with muscle and bone.
"AWH SHIT!"
Snow White tripped backwards while pressing both hands to his right cheekbone, almost falling over the dark brown coffee table in his speedy retreat from Maka's flying fists. The blue-haired dwarf beside him merely watched his stumble and swelling cheek before he laughed exultingly at his companion's pain and squatted down on his haunches, pretending to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes. Chills rippled down Maka's spine and her head shakily (and painfully) turned to find crimson abysses burning into her retinas. Although she had once counted herself the scariest glarer alive, even the formidable Maka Albarn found herself almost cowering under such a toxic glower.
"Really? Why punch me? I wasn't the one who almost crushed you with a chandelier and made you faint!"
It was extremely strange to hear laughter and voices other than her own and her father's filling the house. It added to this falling sensation in Maka's stomach that made her feel things were happening way too fast. Her mind couldn't begin to keep up with what had happened and what was happening. Before Maka could dream up an appropriate response to her (was he still an illusion?)'s exclamation, the boy with the shocking head of neon, electric blue hair sat down next to her, threw an arm around her shoulder, and cackled almost maniacally. He completely ignored Maka's jaw dropping to the wooden floor and the fierce gleam steadily growing in the depths of her grass green eyes.
"Well, it's not like she would dare to punch me. I am the god of her house after all. You're just the creep that sleeps with her."
The tense teenage girl had been preparing for an assault, stealthily reaching for a book she had left on the end of the couch, but at this phrase Maka's already relatively still body froze and her pale face lost all color; her bleached cheeks were the intense "pure white" shade of the socks one finds in Oxi Clean or Tide commercials. Opposite her loss of color, the standing male's tan skin darkened considerably after the other male's proclamation, specifically around the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks. The shell-shocked blonde presently couldn't tell if it was because he was enraged or embarrassed. He surely bellowed loud enough for it to be the first, though honestly she guessed it was the latter.
"I DO NOT SLEEP WITH HER! I STAY IN HER BEDROOM! THERE IS A DIFFERENCE!"
The blue-nette ignored the white-nette's splutters and fury instead opting to tighten his arm around Maka, which caused her to fall into his chest. He proceeded to waggle teal eyebrows at her.
"Bow-chicka-wow-ow. Step one in 'Operation: Get Laid' complete, eh?"
And that was the last straw.
The tiny girl suddenly had a miraculous recovery under his leering gaze, his deplorable teasing causing anger to spark strength back into her muscles, and she promptly used her advantageous position to drop her elbow right where it hurt.
How did he like them apples! And oh boy, if eyebrows could pop off faces, his were halfway there. Maybe she should call the Guinness Book of World Records for how high eyebrows could slant on a person's face?
"Motherfu-!"
The panting boy snapped his mouth close after Maka hopped up and successfully acquired her weapon of choice, waving it about threateningly. His prematurely greying partner off to the side watched the exchange with a crooked, sharp grin and brays a choking donkey would envy at her dominant display. Delayed snorts and "ha ha ha's" and all. She pointed her arsenal and menacing stare his direction and he, too, eventually sealed his lips.
And now Maka found herself back at square one.
It was one of those scenes that would be hard to explain if someone walked in—two teenage boys, one with a puffy cheek and the other with a bright red face, staring worriedly at a trembling girl who pointed Les Miserables at them with the authority of an officer brandishing a gun. Said book-wielder risked a brief glance at the fancy clock hanging over the fireplace to see if she had to worry about an overprotective father appearing anytime soon before she remembered that the other bodies…weren't real. And, therefore, couldn't be seen.
Except her fists and elbows had connected rather soundly for something that wasn't really there. In fact, Maka suddenly could sympathize with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in The Chamber of Secrets. What exactly does one do when the brick wall that isn't "supposed" to be there ends up actually being…well…there?
Damn her Muggle blood! Though honestly perhaps it was better for the safety of the world that she wasn't an insane witch intent on blowing up imaginary friends…
Imaginary friends. Right. Back to the matter at hand—
"Okay. Ohhh-kay. Take deep breaths, Maka. In and out. In and out."
Her outstretched arm quivered slightly as the book was slowly lowered towards the floor. The poor girl's face twisted into a frightened scowl as she attempted to regulate her breathing and not acknowledge the two males watching her expectantly. The faint ringing in her ears alerted her that if she didn't calm down soon her brain would most likely overheat and plunge her into darkness again. And Maka Albarn'd be damned if she fainted in front of boys twice! Illusions or not, she would never give the opposite sex a reason to pity her or obtain the upper hand.
Minutes passed and eventually a staring contest ensued: Maka vs. Illusion Numero Uno. Or, as she bitterly called him in the deepest part of her subconscious…The Hottest Guy Ever. Aforementioned Hot Guy met Maka's bitter fear-filled glare curiously, lips pressed in a tight line as if on the verge of saying something but thinking better of it. The other equally nice-looking guy beside him watched their stare-down with an expression that initially appeared intrigued but soon morphed into down-right bored.
It was his boredom that caused Maka to lose the staring contest. Her attention was drawn to him when he lazily began picking ear wax out of his ears and flinging it across the room. She was sure her eyes were larger than saucers as she wondered where the fuck this incarnation of her mind came from. With her piercing gaze captured elsewhere, the white-haired boy was finally able to find his voice.
"Um…are you, uh, oka-"
However, just because she wasn't looking at him did not mean she wasn't paying attention. Faster than lighting, Maka struck.
WHAM
Whitey Tighties sank to the floor with a yowl, both hands covering and feverishly massaging the newest red mark on his person. His blazing crimson eyes sullenly glowered up at her from his hunched position on the ground. He opened his mouth, about to let this violent little girl know exactly what he would do to her and her precious literature when she acted as if to hit him again. That shut him up.
"DAH-AH-UH!" Maka growled incoherently, strange disgruntled warbles pouring from her throat. "You can't talk!" Her head snapped back and forth between her two hallucinations. "Neither of you can speak! Technically, I'm your creator and I forbid you to talk! Especially to me!"
Almost instantaneously the male with the spiky blue-hair jumped up, his face a brighter, sunburnt red than when Maka had elbowed him in the family jewels. His mouth was open in a rather comical, incredulous "O" as though he couldn't decide which words to use but knew he wanted to scream something. His companion released a loud groan before smacking his forehead in exasperation. Ruby red coals peeked between slender fingers and Maka couldn't help but read a sort of "now you've done it" vibe from them.
"You-creator…" Teal-head sucked in a deep breath. "I AM THE ALMIGHTY BLACK STAR! I AM A GOD, YOU PUNY TITLESS PEASANT! NO ONE CREATES OR FORBIDS ME!"
…Holy fuck. This had to be the projection of her id or something…
Still. No one yells at Maka Albarn and gets away with it! Hidden god-complex or not!
WHAM
WHAM
For the second (and third) time in ten minutes, the startled blonde brought Victor Hugo's masterpiece down onto a skull with a vicious strength that even Thor and his hammer couldn't hope to reproduce. The muscular form crashed to the floor with a whine and, except for the occasional twitch, didn't show any signs of moving for quite some time. Maka appraised her victim critically, pink lips set in a slight pout, all the while ignoring the gaping boy to her right.
"Shoot…I hope that didn't leave a dent in the wood…that bimbo and Papa would be really mad. Then again…illusions can't leave dents, I suppose."
A throat clearing disrupted her scrambled thoughts and, without really thinking about it, she turned to the right and lifted the book high above her head.
"WOAH now!" The remaining illusion cried, arms raised to (hopefully) ward off her attack. "I'm not gonna hurt you! I, well 'we,' just wanted to talk and-"
"Save it!" This was the longest and most frustrating experience with her insanity she had to date and, despite the bravado she projected, Maka was sincerely starting to fear for her mental well-being. She needed to be checked into a hospital for a psych evaluation pronto. "If you don't want to end up like Sonic the Hedgehog here, then I suggest you shut up and leave me alone!"
For a split second, a moment so brief she was sure she had imagined it (although…this whole exchange was pretty much all imagined anyways…), the white-haired male looked hurt and disappointed. But before Maka could evaluate what that might mean and why her heart trembled at the sight, his sharp-toothed arrogant grin slammed into place. Smoldering eyes lazily rolled at her theatrics, like a parent dismissing a child's temper tantrum, as he reached down and grabbed the unconscious boy at her feet by the scruff of his neck.
"Tch. Whatever. My mistake."
And then they vanished.
Into thin air.
Before her very eyes.
And Maka ran from the house as if all the demons of Hell were chasing after her.
Two weeks passed without any exceptionally unusual happenings. The house continued its odd noise-making and Maka continued hearing the sounds while no one else did, but her bedroom no longer pretended to be a sauna.
And obnoxiously handsome boys didn't pop up around corners or appear on her bed or swing on the chandeliers.
Maka was sort of pissed because of that. Which only made her angrier with herself.
How messed up does one get that they actually miss the illusions they finally managed to get rid of?
The intelligent female hypothesized it was the cause of their banishment that left her so disgruntled. It wasn't as if she had overcome the obstacle herself and dispelled the nuisances with her own willpower. Oh no. A certain freakish "doctor" had helped.
After her run-in and argument with, not to mention sudden disappearance of, her self-dubbed "imaginary friends" Maka had hightailed it out of Gallows Mansion and headed to Death City Medical Center as quick as her chicken legs could take her. She had arrived flustered and out of breath and demanding for a psych evaluation as soon as possible. The young girl found her distress level sharply elevate after the nurses nonchalantly waved her to a certain room and asked her to "take a seat" and "did she want some water?"
Apparently her assumption that Death City was full of barely sane people was not so far off mark. By the ER staff's reaction, Maka would bet that they heard the words "I think I'm crazy" at least once a week.
And then he rolled in…on a wheely-chair! How in the world was that professional? Not to mention one wheel had caught on the door frame causing Maka to shriek as the so-called doctor was launched off his chair and into her lap. She remembered his only reaction was to languidly get up, dust himself off, and apologize with perhaps the most monotone voice she'd ever heard in her entire life. As though the owner was a robot or something.
His appearance only aided her thoughts of this "doctor" being an android of some sorts. Hadn't she read in a magazine about how far AI had progressed in recent years?
Maybe everything she had experienced in the last couple of months had been a glitch in the Matrix and this was her version of Mr. Smith coming to put her back in place?
He was pretty tall and quite lanky, slightly reminding Maka of her young father. She couldn't quite pinpoint his age though because, despite vibrant gray eyes promising a prodigal youth that flashed behind his "old man" glasses, his hair was a sagely silver color that hinted at a wizened man past his prime. She almost screamed once more when she took note of the hideous stitching that marred half of his face and the…was that a screw protruding from his head?!
With a bored expression the "doctor" tiredly introduced himself as "Dr. Stein." He asked a few brief questions, such as "where do you live" and "how old are you, and then, without a hint of emotion, pointedly wondered why she was wasting his time. Maka's already rattled emotions and thinned self-control almost made her lose her cool and start shouting in his face for being creepy, unprofessional, and dismissing her so easily. Almost. But Maka had always been taught to respect her elders and she intended to be polite and restrained with this adult as she was with all others (minus her Papa, of course). Somehow she managed to calm down long enough to explain she was concerned she was having a mental breakdown.
Or start to explain. Before she could fully spit the word "crazy" out, Dr. Stein had hurriedly proclaimed she was fine and that he didn't need "punk-ass teenagers" (his exact words!) taking up valuable experimentation/patient time. His parting words sent shivers down her spine. With what she was sure was an uncharacteristically bright, welcoming smile, he said,
"And if I so much as see you again, I will cut open your head, examine the pitiful contents, and make you do the hokey-pokey against your will. Have a nice day, Ms. Albarn!"
Maka left the hospital swearing she'd never go back to that rude, insensitive, negligent, insane, freaky-looking doctor ever again! It was like the blind leading the fucking blind around here! Everyone was crazy, including the medical advisors!
Maybe there was something in the water…
Time to invest in some fucking Aquafina.
Nonetheless whether by rage or by fear, Maka figured she banished her illusions from her conscious mind to prevent herself from coming face to scar with that horrid doctor any time soon.
She didn't want to admit it, but she was beginning to feel rather…depressed. And lonely. A dangerous feeling for sure since the last time loneliness struck it brought two not-teenage boys to her house.
To an extent, her failed teenage social life was her fault. She wasn't exactly a "social butterfly," usually only opening her mouth in order to correct a teacher or answer a question, and she knew she didn't gain any brownie points by skirting off to the library every free chance she got or by reading books in the lunch line. But that didn't excuse the fact that the entire population of Shibusen Academy ignored her and avoided her like the social pariah she was. If one could have a personality with leprosy, Maka Albarn would be that one.
All except for Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and Elizabeth Thompson. The (coincidentally) Academy's Golden Girls.
For some odd reason, those two never let her alone.
Day in and day out, she would be approached by one or the other or, Lord have mercy on her soul, both. Usually it was the Thompson girl as Tsubaki, to Maka's eternal surprise, happened to be a grade younger than them.
Elizabeth, or Liz as she liked to be called (she gave the cold shoulder to anyone who dared to speak her full name), was an interesting character. She was equally as gorgeous as her best friend with her perfect honey-gold tresses always in that constant movie-star wavy stage along with her Marilyn Monroe physique and shimmery sapphire "baby-doll" eyes. But, on a couple of rare occasions, Maka would catch a glimpse of a bitter frostiness hiding behind her simple valley-girl façade. After taking notice of this, Maka couldn't help but associate Elizabeth Thompson with diamonds—they sparkle in sunlight and shine every which way you turn them, but try and crush them and you'll discover just how strong they truly are.
And she, like Tsubaki had at first, reminded Maka of whispering notes only heard in dreams, of sharp teeth arranged into a careful halfway smirk and a figure clothed in a charcoal pin-striped suit…and that agonizingly fervid shade of pure, volatile red…
Whenever those two were around, Maka's perception of loneliness took a full 180. She couldn't help but think that maybe it was best for her to be separated from people…or from them at least.
Something wasn't quite right with Death City and Gallows Mansion and photo-shoot ready girls who were nice to the newest nerd…that much she knew. But she didn't find out how right she was until the day Liz accompanied her to the library.
"Makaaaaaaaa, do we have tooooo?"
Liz Thompson seemed to speak in either one of two ways: a perpetual, spoiled rich girl whine (usually reserved for asking questions or getting out of trouble) or a bubbly, chipper dialect that only dolphins and cheerleaders could effectively mimic (usually used to persuade someone of the male variety to do something).
Maka guessed today was a whiny day.
The ashy blonde could never quite figure out how she felt towards Liz. On the one hand, she had the ability to be ten times more annoying than Tsubaki because of her constant drama queen display. But on the other…Maka knew that behind the little princess spiel, a tough, intelligent female resided. A girl as smart as, if not smarter, than her. This was probably why she hadn't socked her in her pretty manipulative face yet. Maka was lucky that years with her deplorable father had left her patient and tolerant with the average person.
"No one's forcing you to come, Liz. I have a report due next week and I'd rather get it over with as soon as possible. Besides, we have the same BritLit teacher, don't we? That means you have the same paper to write as me, so I don't see why you're complaining. We can just get it done together."
"As if. That's easy for you to say. You're like…smart and shit." The taller blonde tossed some hair over her shoulder as they passed by a group of jocks and smiled when they practically drooled at her wave. "I'll just…politely ask Kilik to do it for me."
Maka bit her lip to prevent herself from yelling in her ire. Patience and tolerance for the average person sure…but patience enough for Liz…that was an amount only God could handle.
"Yeah, well, you do that. Me? I'm going to the library to do my own work."
Liz grinned, easily recognizing the shorter girl's frustration and doing everything in her power to exploit it. Goading Maka was too easy and too much fun…just like a little bird had told her. But, instead of seeing how far her luck would go this time, she heaved the loudest, saddest sigh she could muster and jutted out her upper lip.
"Fiiiiiiiiiiine. But do tryyyyyy and hurry. Pleaseeeee?"
"Damn it, Liz! Quit with the whining! You're about to graduate high school, not pre-K!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure."
The library was relatively empty as per usual and Maka couldn't help the satisfied smile that bloomed like a flower greeting the sun. She had to restrain herself from skipping to her table hidden amongst the tallest, most packed bookshelves in the back. Even Liz's melancholic aura couldn't stop her from relaxing, even if just a tad, in the comforting maze of print and paper.
She was thirty minutes into her assignment when Liz began to tap her shoulder with what was surely a false pretense of urgency. Nonetheless, Maka slowly pushed her materials away and turned to face the bouncing ball of blonde bosom beauty (hah, alliteration) beside her. Liz not bothering someone for five minutes was unheard of (so thirty minutes was practically a ground-breaking record) and Maka figured she could spare a break and entertain her "friend."
Not that she would let her work time go quietly.
"What is it, Liz?"
"Okay, so I was thinking that, even though we're in this disgustingly, horrid place—seriously, Maka, I don't understand what you like about it in here; it's all dark and dank and not to mention bore-to the-ing, but anyways I was thinking-"
"That's a shocker. Should I alert the media?" Liz paused mid-sentence to give Maka a petulant, halfhearted glare.
"Calm on, Maka. I'm trying to tell you something cool here! I know it's hard for you to realize when something's cool or not, which is precisely why Tsubaki and I were put on this Earth, I swear to God, because you can't tell when something's cool even when it bites you on the freaking ass-"
"Have you ever tried taking a pretty little pill called Ritalin? I'm pretty sure that would be cool. 'Least I think it would be."
"Oh, shut up and listen will you! Anyways, so even though your idea of a 'good' way to spend a break is to hole up and read about dead people…or whatever it is you do in here…a real good time would be to-"
"No, no, you're right. You're so all over the place you'd definitely need a spoonful of Adderall. Every hour, on the hour." Without the barest hint of a warning, Liz slapped a hand over Maka's mouth and proceeded informing her what was deemed "truly" important.
That was another thing with Liz—personal boundaries were pretty much nonexistent.
"As I was saying before someone so rudely interrupted…we should go do the only actual cool thing there is to do in the library! Huh! What do you say?"
"I say that the next time you touch me without my permission, you're gonna lose a hand!"
And her mother couldn't figure out why she didn't have many friends growing up…
Liz easily waved off Maka's threat, which merely did nothing but further enraged her, before she grabbed a bony wrist and forcefully removed her from her seat. She quickly dragged the sputtering pigtailed teenager to her intended destination as fast as she could, knowing that the moment Maka caught her breath there would be a verbal lashing awaiting her. However, as Liz had hoped, she forgot her fury in her following confusion when Liz eagerly gestured…at a blank wall. Maka's head unconsciously cocked to the side as she surveyed the ecstatic beauty and the emptiness she proudly extended her arms towards.
Honestly, in Maka's eyes, Liz acted like she was practicing her future audition as a show girl on the Price Is Right. Or was it Wheel of Fortune she longed to be on…? Liz swore one paid better than the other.
"...I'm afraid to ask, but, um…what are we doing here, Liz?"
Her answer was to smile with the radiance of sunlight, a talent Maka would forever envy, as she tapped a somewhat inconspicuous knot along the wood paneling of the wall. There was a fairly inaudible groan, the sound of old things grinding together, and Maka felt the carpet underneath her feet vibrate.
And a rectangular block of wall fell inwards…like a cookie cutter shape of a door.
An unseen trap door.
Maka could do nothing but stand and gawk at Liz's proud, smug smile. It took quite a bit nowadays (what with her recent loss and regain of reality) to take her by surprise, but this…this was another level altogether.
A rubber band snapped back in place and suddenly the only thing running through Maka's head was that this building used to be a questionable mental asylum. And wasn't that how every Hollywood movie went? Old hospitals that housed patients of the psychiatric variety harbored secret rooms where quack doctors conducted heinous experiments for the "sake of science?"
Shit. And Liz was just going in.
"Liz!" Maka half-whispered, half-squeaked. "Liz! What are we doing? What are you doing? What…what is," The spooked girl gesticulated wildly at the dark abyss unlocked behind the once pristine white, sagging wall, "this?" Liz shrugged, the picture of ease and blasé countenance, though Maka caught her gemstone eyes flashing with challenges and expectations.
"It's a secret room, of course. Standard issue in loony bins, you know. The school staff know where the other two are…but this one Pa-…well this one I found all on my own. Only…only Tsubaki and I, and now you, know that there's one in the library. I figured that if we were gonna spend time in the library, since you like it and all, we might as well hang out somewhere really secluded and, well, decently cool."
And, somehow, as was Elizabeth Thompson's way of winning no matter time, place, or subject, Liz's soft admonition and sweet, sincere smile shocked Maka more than the discovery that a wooden knob created a hole in the library wall.
Not that her actually kind, inclusive idea meant Maka was ready to go waltzing into a hidden laboratory or…whatever it was! Rule-keeper that Maka was she fidgeted from foot to foot and nervously searched for any concealed cameras or spying persons; if they were caught…well, who knew what trouble they would be in for not telling someone about the uncharted room. Liz, by this point in life, held no such qualms and with a delicate, refined shrug of her shoulders proceeded into the dark tunnel knowing the smaller girl would go after her, if only because she didn't want to appear weaker…and because Maka was notoriously curious.
The dark hallway or tunnel or whatever it was steadily declined the farther they went and Maka all the while continuously tried to forget about how close the walls were. There wasn't enough room for her and Liz to walk side by side, even though neither of them were "large" by any means, which left them walking one in front of the other. Liz was the leader and every few seconds assured Maka that only the entranceway was dark, but that the room ahead had lights and a ceiling fan (and a fridge!) that worked just fine.
What had to have been around a minute later (though Maka inwardly swore it was at least five minutes of bone-chilling, wrong darkness), the walls widened and fell away to the sides, creating an open space.
They had reached the room.
With the ease of someone who visited a place often enough to know it well, Liz flicked on the light switch.
It was smaller than she anticipated, actually quite cramped, especially with the Kenmore fridge and metal filing cabinet taking up an entire wall. Add in the desk and dusty bookshelf taking up the other wall and Maka thought the only creatures that would be comfortable in here were sardines. And that was pushing it.
But what bothered her most was how it held this undefinable, malevolent "used" aura, which caused her to ponder whose office this once belonged to. A doctor's? A guard's? A lobotomist's? Someone with power…of that, she was certain.
The air was too thick and heavy in here.
Something was wrong. Or, at least, something wasn't right.
"Want a soda?"
Maka practically shot ten feet into the air, too lost in her morbid thoughts to notice Liz opening the fridge (already packed full of every junk food and soda flavor imaginable) and offering her a drink.
"Um…no thanks. I'm not thirsty…right now…" Liz did another one of her infamous "whatever" shrugs and easily took a swig of Dr. Pepper while arranging herself somewhat seductively on the desk. She was doing her best to act comfortable and at home, being the way Liz just normally was…but Maka noticed how her eyes were clear and alert and didn't stray very far from her…almost as if she were waiting for something…
Soon enough, whether because she got bored of studying every teeny tiny move Maka made or because she wanted Maka to think she had stopped watching her, the lovely blonde began to peruse a Seventeen magazine that the pigtailed girl assumed was stashed down here for times like these. Much like the soda and food in the refrigerator.
Since Liz had taken to sitting on the desk, Maka wandered over to the file cabinet, glancing at some pages that littered the floor with mild interest. She was about to risk opening one of the drawers due to her curiosity quite literally burning her from the inside out, Liz watching her or not, before one of the crinkled papers underfoot caught her attention. It was faded and old, black ink turning gray, but she recognized the basic shape. The outline, that was what got her.
It was a picture of her house. A picture of Gallows Mansion.
For whatever reason, goose bumps climbed up and down her spine. The temperature declined to almost frigid, Antarctic levels. She didn't want Liz to know what she had found. She didn't want anyone to know.
Something wasn't right here.
Peering out of her peripheral, Maka saw Liz still religiously pouring over the glossy celeb-filled pages, eyes entranced at whatever gossip or rumor or information it promised readers they would want to know. She was the poster girl of "distracted" and "without a care."
Which for some reason made Maka worry all the more. And pissed her off.
How dare someone try and dupe her?
She would not be outsmarted by some strange, small-town picture-perfect heiress who seemed to be a tad too fascinated with her! It would be a cold day in hell before that happened!
So she pretended she was working on the top drawer of the filing cabinet—the one that was honestly, truly locked tight. Maka dug her heels into the ground and pulled with all her might, making a big deal of groaning and huffing and puffing.
"You're never gonna get that open, you know."
Ah. So the bitch was spying! Just as she suspected! Maka Albarn-1, Liz Thompson-zip.
"Well," Grunt. "I'm gonna," Wheeze. "Try!"
And she continued to heave and ho at the stubborn shut drawer…while her feet carefully unfolded the piece of paper on the floor and smoothed it as best as she could with her periodic, "infuriated" stomps. Eventually, when Maka thought her distraction had lasted long enough and the paper was as flat and readable as it would ever be, she acted out of breath and tiredly slumped against the file cabinet, leaning her head down in "frustration."
Her eyes were at the perfect angle to make out the words atop the picture of Gallows Mansion. The familiar placement of large letters across the top, picture in the middle, and smaller words arranged into neat columns at the bottom clued her into the fact that what she was looking at was no doubt the front page of a newspaper.
She had to squint a little bit to make out the dull lettering, but when she finally understood what she was reading, her heart jumped into overdrive. Like a hummingbird on fucking steroids.
EVANS MANOR DEAD IN A NIGHT? KILLER UNKNOWN! LONE SURVIVOR TO BE SENT TO GALLOWS LUNATIC ASYLUM!
Encore: ...And if you hate me and you know it clap your hands, *clap clap*. So...yeah. Episode 02 of We Are the Dead folks! Hope you're enjoying the story as much as I am enjoying writing it. We were briefly introduced to not one but TWO new important characters that you'll want to keep your eyes on! By the way, can I express how much fun Liz is going to be in this story? Like...I love her. And I hope you love her, too. Like we love violent, book-swinging sarcastic Maka, right?
And sexy "ghost" Soul, eh? ;) Anyways, review if it pleases you, follow if you want to read more! PM me if you have any questions (or you know, if you're bored or somethin')!
Finally, I would like to say that if I ever offend anyone, I do not mean to. I haven't gotten any hate mail or anything like that, but it dawned on me that I hadn't said anything like that...typically when I write about something I usually have personal experience with the area. For instance, mental disorders is right up my alley. I won't say more, but I would like to say that if anyone gets upset by my caustic, joking manner, I am truly sorry. I do not mean offense. Love everyone, love you all.
Replies:
To Nojiko0: I hope it's not bad that she's schizophrenic with perverted hallucinations...I'd be in trouble now wouldn't I? XD However, you are totally welcome to publish "Proper Interaction with your illusions" so long as you promise to send me a free copy! And I am so glad that you think this is worth your time! I know that, whether or not it is "worth" my time, it certainly consumes my time. Wouldn't trade this story for the world though. It is a wonderful release and I hope that it continues to be worth your time.
To someone thats not here: Sorry the update took so long :( but I'm glad you think this is funny and awesome! Seriously warms my heart! My friends don't believe me when I tell them people on the Internet think I'm funny! (Mainly cause I tell really poor jokes and no one gets my sarcastic comments...) Anyways, hope this episode brought you a couple laughs (or at least a laugh).
To BlueMonkeyDoll: AAAAHHH! YOU LOVE MY STORY! ALREADY? *blushes* Thank you! I am sorry about the poor updates (really, brain, can't we write faster anymore? These people are depending on us!). But I hope that this episode is as "sick" as the rest of the story has been so far. Also, just curious, but your avatar looks pretty cool...is it Kid and Maka perchance? I may be a Soul Eater junkie and therefore seeing things, but yeah...I was curious...Love you, by the way.
To GigiandMad: Slyly hiding details...me? Heh, I don't know what you're talking about, heh...And hell, yes, the suit makes everything better! I referenced it in this episode, too, see, see? ;) I can't say anything about the ghosties here...that's no fun, right? But I am interested in seeing if any of your theories end up actually being what I have planned. Muahahaha. We shall see, hmm? And just cause life is so sporadic right now I'm going to go ahead and just do what I want to do when I want to do it instead of figuring out beta-reading stuff. Maybe if this was a more serious story like A Pair of Souls, but...nahh. This is for fun and joy and kicks and giggles. It can have some errors. Just promise to point out anything too terrible, alright?
NEXT TIME ON WE ARE THE DEAD:
-Episode 03-
When Shit Hits the Fan, Don't Just Stand There! Throw Some F***ing TicTacs!