You wanted an update? Whew, here you go! Thanks jackfrostftw for pointing out past errors in my previous chapters! Help and reminders are always appreciated guys – it's what makes this story even better! (: And I'm really sorry about the wait! Three and a half weeks is my record now ew lol and it felt weird not being able to write. :( Hopefully my updates will be much shorter and much faster now mark ma words lol. Oh! And I completely forgot to give a shoutout to the anon previously who sent me a message on my fic status. (: Thank you guys for putting PG in the top ten most reviewed! Of what though lol I'm not sure but you guys are the sweetest. Hugs, sports bras, leather jackets, and mango shakes for all of you! :D Let's have a party when this is over...or wait, no I'll probably fly into the clouds and go sleep for a thousand years lmfao. :p Adios!
Note: This is a dark one and it was actually REAALLYY stressful to do because villains are, hands down, THE HARDEST characters to write. I was pulling out my hair for weeks and watched like a bazillion movies with bad guys in them! And you wouldn't believe how easy it is to find stuff on the black market and terrorist operations. It's not right! 3: I'm not a criminal; let's just put that out there for the sake of any actual ppl monitoring me OKAY?! Also lol if anyone knows a good eyeliner pen to use let me know. (: Thanks to Agrippina Pelageya and her clever eyes, and big hugs to Nightshade25 for helping me with the storyboard! I screamed and crumpled lots of paper like a mad woman lmao but we did it!
"There's still one thing to do. So I'm here now. And I've got a gift for you."
"It is a ple—CHZZ–A-Agen–Chhhzzz–"
"I-I saw him d...disem...H-He cut her heart out of he–"
"Chzzck–Me? Join the pro-pr'gr–"
...
...
"DAAAA–CHHHHZZZZ!"
...
...
...
Attempting to re-synchronize.
"–ner! CHZZ–'re'd you–H-chizzch! H-He's–"
WARNING: MEMORY ALIGN–
"–na find me?! Hehehe, well take a hint–CHZZK–"
WARNING–
"Chzzck–'ess where we are...?"
WA-W-WARNING: ME'...'R-RY ALIGNM-MENT H-HAS BE'...'EN–
...
...
"Excuse me, gentleman."
The airline baggage handler stops for a moment to look up at the new voice. A woman's beautiful red suitcase is still in his hands.
He turns...and scowls.
"Listen buddy," he says in a pissy attitude. "This is a restricted area. No one other than personnel are allowed on the runway."
"Your concern is flattering, my lad. I'm not...bothering you, am I?"
His accent sends chills running up all parts of the body.
The man gives him a long look before he turns away purposefully. It's already way past midnight and the weather is so below freezing. He mutters under his breath, exhaling a hot puff of air.
"Uh...whatever man."
He really doesn't give a shit – if this idiot wants to get himself arrested, then that is his problem. The worker just wants to get out of the cold, get off work, and go back to his shitty life (and averting jail time) as fast as possible.
After he chucks four more luggage bags onto the airplane ramp though, he finally gets fed up.
He snarls and turns to face the lingering shadow
"What? Can you just leave me the fuck alone?!"
The stranger doesn't say anything but his mouth is turned down and his eyes are gleaming.
The baggage handler freezes.
"W...What?"
He finally gets a look at the man's long neck not covered by his coat – and it's grey like a zombie.
But Pitch just smiles back.
...
"'ow did y-H-chzz–H—Why did you kill him like that?!"
"–do not terminate our objective. NEVER–'ou sh-should have known bet–"
...
It is two months later.
His same tall, dark figure is walking down a road in the Shiga Prefecture on Honshu Island in Japan.
It is close to 2 a.m.
He's alone on an empty dirt road heading towards the decayed part where it ends.
Pitch's face is calm but his eyes are a dull and cloudy gold.
Two men suddenly appear behind him as he stops. They tense slightly under their garments – he froze before they even jumped from their post.
The man is much more spatially aware than they said he'd be.
They exhale as their knives lower slightly at their sides. The cold air passes through the tenugui that covers their mouths and hides their identities.
Pitch doesn't need to hide his.
When he turns, his irises turn to silver and he watches them.
They have never seen an oni (demon) like him in their life; and they bow their heads.
"There was no choice to make," one whispers to him in English, "A...Anata wa maō desu. (You are the demon king)."
And Pitch says nothing.
"'oes quiet–hssschk!–"
Pitch is terror. He is fear itself, but not in the way you would think.
Don't get him wrong, he loves that long, stereotypical trenchcoat and black turtleneck; sometimes a dapper shirt with a tie and a waist belt concealed with firearms works too. And yes, he is capable of mass killings, he's DONE it. He has killed many from time to time just to prove a point, to make a statement. But his real passion is not in being a terrorist himself….
...rather, Pitch prefers being the man behind the terror–
"–t-turned his head slowly when he heard me...I-I...hands were bloodi-di–H-He saw me."
It is after dark.
His Nightmares suit up in their clothes in cells all around the world.
Silent, brooding and itching for blood, they look like everyone else – at least at first. They wear the same pants as us, the same shirts, and carry the same bags and looks of exhaustion like we do. But they're all lying, all hiding underneath.
When midnight falls, they strip off their outerwear – the disguises – and they revert back into their natural states of black uniforms and bulletproof vests. Every rank is different, every style more menacing.
The only thing that doesn't change, however, is the masks.
The respirators and goggles that glow a ghoulish gold yellow are their trademark. Pitch's signature. They are the horses and the bats that tear through the night without a face, creating an illusion of mass fear and confusion.
One Nightmare finishes donning his assassin attire and turns to head out – but then he stops when a cold chill runs up his skin.
When he turns, the long dark shadow that resembled his boss has already moved on to more important matters.
"...how would you like to joi–I-I beg your–something called...Project: GUARDIAN...I sat for days in that–th-thinking about he–"
Pitch stays mysterious to everyone, but spies on them equally. That's what his organization does – they spy on their competitors' work. Then they stole, destroyed the original, re-manufactured the weapons for him and sold it to others. That's what industrial intelligence agencies do, at least, the corrupt ones.
Pitch Black sold custom-made submarines for drug smugglers, anti-stealth radars for arms traffickers. His men stole top secret blueprints for tanks, group-modeled assault rifles, and then the Nightmares knew how and when to cross them worldwide for clients–
"I d–chzzz–n't understand. How is he one of u-u–agent, he's completely–"
Pitch narrows his eyes.
The warehouse is full. Fifty to hundreds of all-black covered bodies assemble guns, vehicles, and firearms.
They lock in cartridges for missile launchers and lay out the best sharpened knives at their disposal. Meanwhile, they say nothing and avoid each other unless they need a question answered.
Pitch looks down at them, with his hands behind his back from the highest balcony. Only his jaw is visible in the dim light – they don't even pick up on him.
A blink later, he is gone.
"Y-Y...you sho–come now, love we don't hav...n't you workin' for the good guys?!–SNAP."
He is the general of an entire fleet of monsters, monsters who travel faster in months than any government or intelligence agency can move in years. They couldn't keep up. And for every manufacturing company he laundered and finance industry he setup, Pitch's keys to warfare grew more valuable, more feared, and suddenly...oh so alluring.
The more he became known, the more the prospect of working with him seduced the underground.
"–passed with flying colors….He's a G–CCHHZZ–'hether you like it or not, my friend."
"Pitch need ears and eyes everywhere...'nd he's only got the best I tell y–customs officials from Russia, thieves from Roma, assassins from Colombia, message parlours set up right in Washington! And don't even get me started on the Chinese...So if you want this world on its knees, you better kneel to him first."
"HOW COULD Y–chhsssss–You sure you wanna do business with us? Don't you work for the other side?"
"I'm useless."
"Can you fly?"
The young student pilot looks down and clenches a fist. Talking to a gas mask instead of a face is freaking him out.
"I only learned the takeoff–"
"Then you're useful ...At least to him, anyways. Tch do you even want to get out of this hell hole?"
The pilot turns away to look out the warehouse window.
The night is so dark.
"...You bored, son?"
"...Yes ." He wants to drop out of the pilot course. He hates school.
"...but...How do I–"
"You don't need the details. Just be thankful he wants you at all. When you're needed, one will contact you. Until then, go about your regular day. Drink, have a beer. Pretend like you actually mean something...then you can come to him."
Two large folders appear – one is white and filled with his new fake credentials; the other is black and empty.
The pilot stares at them coldly. His mouth twitches uncontrollably.
"Do you want it or not?" the other challenges.
A second passes.
The young pilot then makes his decision.
He takes the white envelope and pulls out his new identity – his cards and passports.
He then turns back to the table behind them, eyeing all his old birth certificates, social security cards and account numbers.
He is silent at first…but then his frown suddenly transforms into a tiny smirk.
The other watches as the pilot walks back to the table and after placing the white envelope on the top, he scoops up all his old identification papers and cards.
The pilot walks back to the other man.
And after taking the empty black envelope, he opens it and drops all his papers into the dark sleeve.
Once it is sealed shut, the pilot pulls out a match – he eyes the man one more time.
"Well?" the latter pushes.
And the student doesn't hesitate.
He lights the black envelope, burning all his accounts, his citizenship, and his old life away.
"The...The world is pitch black."
"H-How does he–Wh-Why do he look like tha–AHHHH!...H-How did he do that? H-He's g-gone..."
How Pitch Black finds them, how he brings them in, no one asks; they try not to care, but he has over tens of hundreds of Nightmares and Sleeper Nightmares at his command. In their strength, they eventually recruit more on his behalf.
"P-Please don't t–What? Afraid I'll touch you?
The real terrorists groups were mystified.
The rebel fighters were in awe.
The crime families were excited.
And one by one, they each deployed some or another to Pitch – and while they had no clue who is who, or who Pitch really is, his network of illegal transaction, untapped communication, and subordination grew and festered over the years.
His agency gained more eyes, ears, and bloodied hands until his empire became the most criminally known (yet unknown sized) organization underground. And like cheap sex, his organization brought in the hundreds because...who could resist the call of better military-compound production, higher pay (if there was any), and quality weapons worth the wait?
"–t worry. I will supply you with the best warfare you ever s–CHSSS–How are you, Agent Pi–Oh fine. I am just fine– I-I think he's hiding s–Wh-here does he go when he va–"
"Give me that RPG! I will pay 277,000 Syrian pounds for it!"
"You better be givin' your mother too for that shitty price! This isn't just a North Korean copycat. It's a Black model."
"What?!"
"A Black?"
"How did it ge–"
"I will pay you 300,000!"
"NO! 320,000–"
"My cartel needs more night vision goggles. Cuanto es? CUANT–"
"You want to smuggle in the banknotes? We can supply you with an untapped safe. Pitch is very particular about his security–"
"You see this, boys?" a Nightmare smirks as he lifts the missile launcher on to his shoulder.
He locks in the head.
"Max range at 600m and a short fin-stabilized launch tube, this girl," he whistles, "she's also optical in daylight and heh, who doesn't love good ol' night vision?"
The groups stare with greed.
"Hahaha! Look at Pitch prototype! This is good, very good!"
"We should thank Pitch."
"Heh, no thank the Chinese for making their Type 69-I blueprints so easy to steal 'cause see, their model folds in two. But a Black prototype–"
He snaps his wrist back and the entire warhead compacts into four small parts. "You won't see that hiding under your bed."
The buyers are shameless.
They'd sell 14 cows for an AK-47 Nightmare, than buy a regular AK-47 for only 4 cows. They only think about how much easier they'll run with his creations.
"And now, it's time for Pitch's BEST market goods."
Suddenly five Nightmares line up tables and tables of vials and syringes, all filled with Pitch's scientists' most potent bacteria and viruses – the stuff you couldn't see, but could kill with from just one infection.
They smirk.
"Who wants to start some chemical and biological warfare?"
And the buyers all erupt with money orders instantly.
"–at do we call you if you are giving us these weapons?"
...Well, the term 'Black' market had to come from somewhere.
Wouldn't you think?
He provided the means and resources to the real crime organizations and terrorist groups. He was the reason dark things were possible for the bad guys – because he showed what they could be capable of if they had the right scenario, the right tools...the right vision. And every bad dream he exploited and sold...made the dark side grow stronger, and heroes weaker. They grew divided, his men merged; his organization rose, their success fell; and while his organization became a civilization, a culture in its own right, governments, officers, and police worldwide were like the players lost in the sands of time...
"I work two trades, gentleman–Chss–et's see if I don't arrest you first before this deal is finished, hm?"
This is Pitch's profession, his work, and the work of the countless hyper-motivated and resource-rich loyalists who grew up in the dark just like him.
And no one questions, no one cares.
All they want...is in.
...
It is dark.
The man shivers slightly on the steps beside the alleyway in his dark coat.
He's staring ahead in a daze. His mouth in a permanent frown.
Pitch walks up to him, silent and like death.
The man doesn't say anything and keeps looking forward.
Pitch doesn't care as he stands with his leather gloves in his trenchcoat. He stares down unemotionally at the sullen bloke before taking his hands out of his pocket.
He holds them behind his back.
"21...23...80...110," he recites.
The he waits.
The man on the ground shakes a little. After a couple of seconds, his mouth moves.
"Y...Y-You...missed twe...25."
The terrorist's face doesn't change, but his eyes light up all the same.
At least he knows how to name the correct ports...Now, this man is actually worth his time.
"Have you heard of me?"
"I...I know who you are."
"And?"
"..."
"No need to be shy, lad. Speak up."
But the man says nothing and continues to shake, staring forward, still looking sullen.
Pitch blinks his eyes.
"Can you be loyal to a cause?"
"I can be loyal to you."
A pause...
The man dares to peek a shaky, glazed over stare up at the criminal – he looks down quickly.
And the Nightmare King scowls.
"Can you be a killer?" Pitch asks.
"..."
"...Well?"
"I...I can be a good killer. I'm a good killer. I-I've killed. I've been one before."
The man sort of twitches at the eye as he says it – Pitch's face darkens slightly.
They fall for a moment into silence.
"Don't look so scared," he says lightly. "I will give you what you've longed for."
He then turns on his heel and drops a white envelope next to the man. He doesn't bother with a black envelope – he already knows the man's a nobody.
They're all nobodys...and that's exactly what he wants.
"–DYYYY!–DO have a voice, hm? Ahaha–KL–Y-YOU CAN'T–"
He watches their movements, their routines, evaluates them. He probes their mentality, their ignorance...their despondency until he realises these are the men he sees himself working with.
The kind of men with no ties to anyone – who are empty inside, but always looking for a thrill to fill their voids, to give them purpose.
And there are literally hundreds of them worldwide: bored, flaky, under-appreciated, and bitter little souls. Pitch reaps the benefits from their misery and restlessness. Then they become the product he shapes, while forever in his debt...
Ex-con artist: "How did you find me?"
Stranger: "He has his ways."
Retired analyst: "Why does he want me?"
Uninvited guest: "...Isn't it obvious?"
Violent street fighter: "And what if I ain't sayin' I'm gonna go? What's stoppin' me from goin' to the police instead, na?"
Mysterious shadow: "Fine then. Continue living in this trash you call a life, hm?"
Countless of strangers, hiding together under one man – and the more violent, the more valuable.
Rogue hitman: "What's in it for me?"
?: "A world at your knees. Obviously."
Terrorist group member: "When do I start?"
?: "The second you picked up the phone."
Serial killer: "Finally someone who knows how to have a little fun!"
And did they listen to him? Well, he gave them the goods.
They disobeyed? No one ever did.
All the while he is ruthless, making excuses of them...of his authority.
"–'tsy bitsy–Tick tock. Tick tock–"
"Shit, the police!"
"Steal that chemical, c'mon!"
"Almost done–"
"FREEZE! PUT YOUR HAN–What the hell? M-My shadow! It's–"
Crisckk!
"Th...The boss...W-We're..."
"..."
Pitch kills the cops. He kills his two Nightmares. Then the vile is gone with Pitch.
"'etter run! Ahahaha!"
But is this worth it?
He likes to think so. He's dreamt about this and nothing else.
"–heavy panting, running of out air, ru-r-running out of time–that dead butterfly–"
Pitch sees no different when it should be different...
...it should've been how it used to be...when he was one of the best.
He had so much...and knew what things like honor and respect meant to him.
He used to be there for people...until he got bored...
...he used to be there for her.
"...ou see this–but it's dead!–belongs to our family...You could–really? Grow again...it's–"
He runs his knuckles across her cheek and she doesn't move.
But she still breathes, in and out so quietly.
In the shadows, they're opposites. He is tall and she is small, and she is still while he is restless.
She is light, and he is dark.
"–made my fight when he–risking...je-jeo-jeopard–"
He moves his face away from hers with a smile bridging on tension and bliss.
Then he turns and heads out of the room, out of the apartment...he grabs the letter on the table and leaves the building altogether–
"How did he know?...HOW DID HE KNOW?!"
When he's back on the sidewalk, he nonchalantly walks down one end – he abruptly changes direction again when he enters the alleyway beside it.
Once he's alone, he stops, giving the area a wide sweep of his brown eyes. His dark hair is slick back against his skull, still wet from his shower.
It's weird, but the only place he feels enough comfort or, dare he say, safe, is up in that little shitty apartment.
"You can't leave! I'...–sis is not don–YOU'LL CONTAM–"
She doesn't deserve it.
"-ur-our sanctuary...On-one day I-I–'m in the one place we'd know–combat boots stumble shakily into the abandoned butterfly zoo–broken glass, dead pl-pla–years of negl–"
He lifts his eyebrows at the fire escape next to her window.
It's mocking him.
He knows he could've come down through her room. He is proud of how he can move with the speed of a stallion and likes to use any chance to show it.
He looks down at the envelope.
A split second later, he flashes out an elegant letter opener, so deceiving and oh-so incredibly sharp.
It tears through the envelope easily. He delicately pulls out the crap to read.
"–ought you were de–SE–looky here!...and I thought you had no one. Ahaha!"
He opens the letter.
His dark brown eye, run across the message – he's bored within seconds.
He takes out his cigarette lighter from his trenchcoat. It ignites a flame.
The light casts a glow on his long, angular features. It spreads a warmth onto his cold extremities.
But he doesn't say anything...
...doesn't even really feel it, actually.
"M-mfm...mffhmm...'UR PLIGHT IS WITH ME. How dar–'ut me down and put me in a hole–"
He drifts the lighter to the edge of the paper and sets fire to the paper. It eats away at the letter hungrily, burning away all the words and ink.
He watches it intently, nothing on his face to say how he feels.
Before it completely burns away in his hand, he chucks it to the concrete.
He then turns on his heel and stalks away to his ride, back to his operation.
As he disappears, the wind picks up the pieces slightly and settles it in the open garbage bin nearby.
"–n't know the power of crime, until you've–se he'e'...lose everything–"
The name 'Klauz Von Motis-Pitchiner' is the only word – only name– left before the fire consumes it instantly.
"She's...He's g–"
His full identity is once again protected by the ashes.
"–is status just came up MIA–chizsss–W-We lost him."
…
"Ahaahahaha...hahaaHAHAHA."
...
...
...
His first massacre is marked on the same day as her 16th birthday.
She's sits somewhere with a small birthday cake made by someone she's too tired to put a name to.
She thinks of him until he's gone from her mind again.
And him?
...He doesn't remember.
He's forgotten a long time ag–Attempting to–WARNING: M–CHZZZ–
Accessing further memory–
"Then beg for me, P–Mffmfhmm! Y–BEG! OR–M-My blood, it–"
Accessing–
"–uz, you can't leave! The g–CHSS–cobblestone and dead vines–Humph...H-H...Huh-Huhn–"
Accessing–
"N-NO–a knif–chhzzz–DDYYYY!–YOU–STOP HIM-ST–GYAH!–CHZZZ–n't see anything but killing them–""
Accessing–
"–ke up! WAKE UP! I'm-m–I'm right here...I'm righ—"
Accessing–
"–take her to the neares–NO! NO SH–CHZZZ–You contaminated her! CHSSS–ook at your blood! LOOK AT HER–YOU MIXE–"
Accessing–
"I HAD NOTHI–CHZZ–A...AL-A-ALL I–CHSSSSSS-SH–SH-HE WAS ALL I H'-HAD LE–"
...
...
Access aborted.
Error: This memory has been corrupted.
...
...
…
…
"Bravo...Bravo."
Pitch moved his hands from behind his back to clap slow and purposefully. He then walked into the dim light to reveal his face.
It was dark and sharpened like it always was and the poor brightness of the room accentuated his ashen skin.
Sandy's face was yanked back to stare at him and he watched the little man eye him stiffly.
Pitch was unemotional.
"I knew you would escape somehow, it was just a matter of when." He then slowed to stop in front of the chained and kneeling GUARDIAN. "Of course I thought you'd rack up a body count faster than I anticipated."
He moved in close to pat the tips of Sanderson's hair.
A dark, electric current zapped between them – Sandy's eyebrows shot up instantly.
He was suddenly reminded of the times he shook hands with other GUARDIANs, and when he first touched the princess. She used to be afraid of him because of it, but they got used to it and it disappeared over the years.
But why–
"Disappointing."
Sandy flared his nostrils. He looked up.
Pitch stepped away from him, and the Nightmare still holding Sandy by his head.
"Your reputation exceeded even after your departure from the Core, and I must say...I am still jealous."
A plastic smile pulled at the corners of his mouth showing his almost canine-like teeth.
"Pardon my rudeness, dear friend, but a gentleman like myself, for all the power I wielded back there and kills on my board, I never carried as much blood as you. Didn't have the time, or the hands to do it and yet...Hm, how ironic is that?"
When he finished staring at his long fingers, Pitch curled his large hands and looked down at Sandy's tiny, bloodied palms.
A scowl crossed his face.
The Nightmare King suddenly extended his arm out to his hitman. The Fearling silently moved Sandy's broken whip to him.
Once it was in his hold, Pitch let it hang at his side.
"How unfortunate..." he murmured, "that the best never stay dead."
Tatiana trembled with horror as Mr. Sandy's expression went from placidly alert to lethal and dark. She shook where she stood and when Sandy flicked his eyes at her, she turned to the floor.
Her hair curtained around her shamefully–
SNAP!
Tat made a sound in the back of her throat. She covered her nose and her mouth.
The end of the broken whip cracked at the ground beside Sandy's legs.
"Don't ignore me."
But Sanderson didn't even flinch. Sandy looked at her for a few more seconds then turned to face the dying ELF in the corner.
North's triple agent was drawing out slow and steady breaths.
He had to stay awake. Or his blood–
CRACK!
And the broken tip of the whip sliced across the SANDMAN's cheek.
"Look at me!"
Sandy viciously whipped his head back to the terrorist. His chest expanded then fell hotly but the cut, the fear, it didn't even seem to register as the blood peeked slowly on his creamy skin.
Pitch reacted with extreme hate.
He saw Sanderson for who the man was at heart, assessing him with a meticulous, beady look. There was terror, then softness, and flashes of unyielding fury; he saw GUARDIAN's ease to hide, and the want and love for set a genetic abominations flickered all across his eyes like a movie.
Pitch was always able to see the deep flickers of desire with everyone he assessed – and it made him livid.
It made him want to twist their dreams into–
"That face of yours deserves a trip to my lab!" he spat. "A little reconstruction is in order but were it not for that face, I would've never recognised you again in that photo."
Sandy leaned forward a little shook his head defiantly.
He had a heat building and coiling angrily in his chest but he kept his face defaulted to annoyance.
Pitch stared back savagely.
"Do you not remember me?" His gold eyes widened. "Am I confusing you?"
Suddenly his champagne colored irises melted slightly to reveal silver.
Sandy pulled back slightly. He scrunched his eyebrows.
Something panged in the back of his head, like a dull ringing – there was a horrible feeling crawling up his chest like it wanted to show itself – and he wasn't ready for it.
His fingers were moving wildly behind him, shutting the sounds on and off.
Pitch bared his teeth.
"Still a little lost?! Well..."
He produced a terrifying Glock 19 from behind and aimed it. He tightened his cold fingers around the classic, rough, textured frame.
"Allow me Let me give you a little jump-start."
BT's mouth flew open–
BANG!
Tooth covered her mouth as Tatiana screamed inside the room.
Blood sprayed the floor and the reverb from the bullet pounded the walls.
The Nightmare behind Sandy fell to the floor.
He clutched his shattered femur and rolled onto his side screaming bloody murder as his muscles convulsed from the rip in his leg.
"AAHH-N-N-GYAAA–"
"Be QUIET!" Pitch snarled and lifted the gun again – but he stopped when he noticed...
Sandy's mouth fell open.
"We'll never get out! We're gonna get–"
"Y-Yeah, I don't...I forgot what to–"
"Shush! It's only your third time out on a mission. You forgot you're with seasoned professionals?"
Sandy moved his hands around – his student team quickly translated. They paused respectfully.
No one ever knew his gene unless otherwise told, since when he went on missions, he did them alone. But they knew from high praise around the Core that Codename: SANDMAN could be counted on and was very powerful. This was his last time on a mission teaching.
They nodded.
"Okay...O-Okay you're right. Section T is almost never covered so we–"
Boots echoed in the distance.
"Shit!"
"No, we're fine! Everyone just be calm, SANDMAN's got the sound bubble up. So we can still do this! We ca–"
BANG!
"AHHHH!"
One of their team members dropped to the concrete with a shot to the leg.
Everyone nearly went into cardiac arrest.
"WH-WHO...Who di–"
"Bretyam!"
They all turned to one team member who called out on another – the latter was still lowering his hidden Colt Mustang as the smoke lifted from it.
"Y-You...Wh-Why did you–"
"Agent!"
"We ca...W-We can't carry him! He's too heavy! O-Oh my GOD, we're–"
Sandy paused for a moment from where he was kneeling beside his old friend. His hands were still lifted from where he was dropping the sounds. He shot his third partner a horrified look.
His face was saying, 'We could've ALL made it' – but the man didn't seem to care.
"I didn't mean to."
But his tone was so light, everyone stared at him in disbelief.
His face twisted to show his obvious annoyance.
"When you signed up for this, you made the choice to leave things behind," he leered purposefully. "You have nothing, we have nothing. But the mission."
No one said a word – he was a high-ranking GUARDIAN like SANDMAN...He was the one who 'used' the shadows to darken the areas so they could find the cameras and put them on loops and steal the shit.
Their comrade's gasps of pain and shock made them turn.
"G'...'s righ," he tried to gasp.
They shook their heads. "No, Br–"
"Go! L-Leave me!"
They looked at Sandy's partner – he just turned away coldly.
"Oh don't look at me like that. You all know what we're sacrificing if we don't get out."
The mission, the formula, their identities, their company...basically everything.
Then solemnly, they shook the bleeding man's hand and left him in their shaky boots, and dashed away.
In mixed relief and anger, SANDMANs instructions were true – Section T was clear and they all got out safely without having to come up with a backup plan.
They were faster and more cunning so then, WHY did they have to leave a GUARDIAN behind?
Once they were safe at their rendezvous, they watched through their scopes as their friend was being hauled to the center and beaten. Their hearts ached.
Any hour from now, they'd try to torture him for information – for who he was, where he'd come from. They'd lose their assets as being GUARDIANs.
But then, they saw as he suddenly engulfed himself in a bright light.
"NO!"
A flash later–
BOOM!
His explosion killed every criminal with him in the holding room.
He'd used his own Center gene ability to kill himself...to hide their secret.
But he never needed to, and they hated themselves for it. They hated themselves even after the Board members found out...but could do nothing save for the success of the operation.
But while he'd apologized, they couldn't ignore the arrogant façade or the dark look that crept behind that GUARDIAN's silver eyes.
...How had he ever been chosen?
Sandy's face was a myriad of horrific expressions. Jack watched with a horrible chill sliding up his throat – the storm was so visible in Tooth's nanny's eyes.
Jack's own eyes widened with worry – What did he know? What was wrong?!
The little man raged against his cuffs with a rapid breath.
Tooth flinched at the sound of the scraping steel – What was happening?!
What couldn't she see?!
She rubbed her eyes.
Two blinks later–
BT's hair covered her view of the room. But as the sounds of Sandy's chains kept getting louder, the little handmaiden lifted her head slightly.
Her eyes squinted slightly, not understanding the hand signs that Sandy seemed to be violently throwing at Pitch.
But Tooth felt her heart drop into her stomach.
Over and over again, Sandy kept pointing and curling his wrists.
And he grinded his teeth and shook with anger...
...as he kept signing...
You. Were. A. Guardian.
You. Were. A. Guardian.
...Codename. BOOGEYM–
"Wh...Wha–N-N–"
Tooth pulled back from the door to face the wall across from her.
The room was starting to spin and the hall felt colder.
'H-He...He has a Ce-Cen...That's why his touch–b-but he's a te...a-and he's also one of–'
'O-Oh my God...' she mouthed, then Tooth covered her heavy breathing with her hands.
She shook her head in the horror of it.
Suddenly, nothing felt fair anymore.
...
Jack took a slight step back.
He kept shaking his head, clearly not understanding the change in the Sandman's behaviour.
He wished that Tooth – for one fleeting, beautiful, selfish moment – was there with him.
She could tell him what her private tutor had said.
But then, whatever Sanderson discovered might have made her already-crumbling world feel like nothing compared to the secrets her nanny still hid from her!
His knuckle tightened so hard around his staff that the frost under his fingertips erupted like cracked glass.
'Pitch is nothing,' Jack kept trying to calm his brewing emotions.
'Pitch is nothing.'
But how could he calm himself when the one GUARDIAN more powerful than him, North, and Aster combined was at the knees of a...of another...? And one, might he add, that apparently had a darker secret than Jack could ever hope to understand?!
He thought he knew Pitch, hunting him all these months. He thought he understood him, tracking his movements back when he was a GUARDIAN. He thought he could shut it down, all this gamely warfare and kidnappings!
Jack let out a messy exhale, loud enough to stir an audio sensor but he didn't care.
Suddenly the assassin, the cold JACK FROST in him, wanted blood. More than he ever wanted.
And it worried him.
...
Sandy meanwhile was still down below, quaking in his tiny shoes.
He kept fighting his bonds but grew less spirited with every aggressive yank. He felt like the hot bubble inside his round body was just waiting to burst and unleash a dormant resentment.
He was mad – he'd always been – at the company.
He could never tell anyone about how many nights he stayed up rubbing his broken throat with admonition...or how he'd spied on a little princess (when she thought no one was there) and watched her cry at herself in the mirror...and how he watched her clones rub their different purple, pink, and turquoise eyes like if they tried hard enough, the color would wiped away and be something normal, like brown.
He was upset with the board, with the scientists, with the entire Project, but he'd never had a chance to attack on it – until now.
BOOGEYMAN was just another bretyam back then, nothing short of another face in the global wars they swore to protect.
Not now. No–
BANG!
"AAHH–"
Baby Tooth screamed and slapped a hand over her own mouth to swallow it.
She dropped her head again to the floor.
BT covered her face with her hair again. But she choked and sobbed in the dark.
Pitch dropped the gun like it was garbage. Sandy flared his nostrils – and the gold left his irises, dying away like summer, leaving pale silver.
"Remember me now?!"
Sandy stopped fighting against the cuffs.
He gasped with an adrenaline he couldn't use and that wouldn't die.
Pitch tilted his head lower so the shadows would cast darker on his face – they grew slightly around his feet.
"It has been a long time since we ran in the same circle."
As he walked, all of Sandy's outpouring frustration – and was there a twinge of fear? – washed over the other GUARDIAN's body like a terrible grease.
"What was it called again?" Pitch continued to recount as all eyes were fixated on him. "Oh yes the...Midnight division...Very accurate for two souls like you and I, wouldn't you agree?"
Jack's eyes widened.
His memories...the ghosts...
The Core...
"Hunter division to J9...Midnight division to T4..."
And a larger group of GUARDIANs appeared on his left.
He turned and almost gasped.
They all went through Aster and Toothiana.
His heart started to pick up speed, but Pitch wasn't done talking, and Sandy wasn't done glaring at him.
Who are you? the SANDMAN was writing across his face.
Pitch Black wasn't the real name and he wasn't a GUARDIAN. So...So where did that leave him?!
Sandy's face was twisted in the darkest way...his irises slowly melted gold.
Pitch didn't find it eerie at all though...only annoying.
"Is that it? Is that all you can do!? Make my men cower in their boots with your eye trick? But how?!"
Pitch reached down with one hand and grabbed the collar of Sandy's golden lapels.
He drew him close to his face, pouring stale breath down on Sanderson's sun-kissed (washed out) glow.
"What is it?" Pitch demanded. "What is it?!"
"..."
"TELL ME!"
Jack shut his eyes.
...
He gritted his teeth.
...When was the last time he'd spoken like that?
BT sobbed again behind her shut lips – and Tooth was doing to the same. She looked up at the ceiling tried to blink past her stinging eyes.
But Sandy had no empathy.
The Boogeyman never did. He was cold, merciless...arrogant, and he was a GUARDIAN for all the wrong reasons.
Pitch narrowed his eyes so tightly, his silver irises shined like he was actually glaring daggers.
"Every GUARDIAN should've been terminated that night!" he shouted. "There shouldn't have been any left, especially after I'd captured the remainders wandering around!"
Sandy tried to rip himself away from Pitch's hands but the terrorist held on tightly.
"What, little man?" he sneered. "Didn't yet figure it out?!"
BT was opening and closing her fist into her white dress with a distraught face.
She wanted to move...but she also didn't want to. And the 'ELF' (that's what the other sisters called the men like him) in the corner, she...she almost couldn't hear his breathing.
But Mr. Sandy–
"Argh!' Jack stopped just short of punching his fist through the glass.
He pulled back with shaky control. As he exhaled noisily, the air from his throat and let it swirl in the wind building around him.
"I found them, the others, the lost ones–"
Pitch shoved Sandy back onto the floor.
"–and I tried to take their centers!"
Jack's foot took a step back of its own accord.
'He took...'
Was that why Pitch's scientists wondering linger sent a shiver up his spine?
Tooth's blood ran cold as all the whooshing sounds from the hallway were drowned out by the horrors sinking in.
But how did he know?
But where were they?!
Where were the other GUARDIANs?!
Where–
Sandy let out a grainy gasp uncontrollably.
Pitch glared at him then squatted on his long knees in front of Tooth's loved one.
"You've tried to pretend like this part of your life never happened, have you?" He ran a hand through his hair to push a stray hair that had fallen in his crazed emotions.
"Well I haven't."
BT whimpered behind him.
"And not that it's any consolation but, they're dead."
And as Pitch gritted his teeth, the silence felt so thick that no one could breathe.
Pitch pissed about his own story to notice.
"All of them," he explained. "Not one survived–survives gene extraction. I find and remove that one chromosome and what happens?! Their bodies decay like infection. You would think for all our power, we are built stronger than that."
He scowled.
"But we're not. So where does that leave me...with you?"
When Pitch stared at Sanderson for a long while, the latter started to shake his head.
His hands moved delicately but Pitch read it like lightning.
He stood back up.
"What will I become without you? What can you do to stop me?! Hm?"
He started to walk back but Dean miraculously coughed in the far background.
"Sa'...don le'tim..." his tried to say but his voice was so guttural the two GUARDIANs ignored him.
"Come on, fight me! Fight me!" he laughed furiously. "The great SANDMAN!"
SNAP!
"Where is your power!?"
And Sandy fell sideways from the skin-splitting pain.
...
Tooth gasped in pain as her leg suddenly spasmed under her and shot out.
"N-No!"
She bit her lower lip tightly as she silently struggled to bring it back to her.
Pitch bared his teeth.
"There will be no more GUARDIANs after tonight...except me."
Jack shook and started to see red.
His fingers twitched wildly and before another thought could cross him, he raised a finger to his complink. When it turned on, an ELF was instantly on the other end.
"Jack?" his voice rang – but the voice stopped mid-sentence the second he sensed the unnamed tension.
"W-Wh–"
"Sh-Shh..." Jack exhaled angrily.
He said nothing after and the two listened to Jack's feed, picking up on Pitch's story.
...
The terrorist dropped his hands – almost too calmly.
Dean was seeing black spots slowly sprouting in his vision. He shut his eyes tiredly.
Pitch's face darkened.
"The GUARDIAN program was pointless," he condemned. "Pointless...What good are you trying to save from a world with already so much dark in it. Wake up, SANDMAN!"
SNAP!
He sent the whip again at Sandy's cheek again.
The violence was so real that Sandy couldn't control his gene. He snapped his face back at Pitch and hissed through his teeth.
"What? What?!" Pitch dared. He didn't seem to notice as he tossed the whip to the side.
"Project GUARDIAN was complete waste," he sneered, "To think I gave myself, my life to it, and now look at me: transformed by all those pathetic excuses for humankind."
Jack's heart raced a little. His breath shuddered into the mic.
"Well, not to say that I didn't enjoy some perks to it," he challenged. "Rest assured, getting the opportunity to torture the world's worst criminals, to hide in shadows and watch how they moved without any restriction until we came...until I slaughtered. Oh ho, don't you give me that look, little man. Remember...you are worthless here."
Sandy looked up when Pitch's shadow – which had been a foot away – was suddenly now crawling up his front.
His pupils were still shrunken and gold as he showed his true Gene to the man in exchange. But like the useless effect of the fearful shadows on Sandy, Pitch wasn't fazed by the sleep gaze.
Pitch stared down at his identical spirit.
"So no matter whatever or whoever you throw in my path, will not end me," Pitch breathed.
Jack and Tatiana said nothing – they couldn't, not beyond their horrified sanity.
"I am that thing that always go bump in the night, the thing that you can't see. I am the monster that you will never stop."
Tooth gripped her gun.
Her mouth was opening and closing like a fish but she counted to ten in her head.
'O-One...Two...Thr...Three...F–'
"So try," Pitch dared. "Try...and we'll see if I don't decide to cut you open for something other than in the name of scien–"
"YOU'RE SICK!"
Pitch stopped instantly...but Baby Tooth couldn't stop her cries that kept coming like word vomit.
He waited.
She sobbed.
"YOU'RE-E S-SICK A'...A-AND HORRI...HORRI–GYAAH!"
"You want to know how I DID manage to find you, Mr. Sanderson?" Pitch said over BT's squeal of fear.
He forcibly grabbed her hair in the darkness that still shadowed her features. Every time he touched her, their Center genes reacted and sent a terrible electric jolt down her neck.
She screamed.
Tooth and Sanderson panicked.
Pitch clutched the back of Tat's head with his glove.
"Because of this," he spat giving BT a firm shake with his hand like she was an ornament. "This little fairy or rather, because of her surrogate mother, to put it in scientific terms."
Which everyone hated.
Baby Tooth tried to pull away but he yanked harder and she nearly cried again.
Jack stopped himself from yelling out as he watched Tooth's younger sister chew her lip to stop from crying.
He memorized her face, and caught her familiar beauty mark...then realized it was almost identical to Emma's.
There was such a violence in his heart brewing that it was threatening to claw its way straight out of his chest cavity and tear Pitch to pieces.
He drew in silent, ragged breaths.
"I come across one news article in a pathetic, little Asian tabloid about one insignificant princess and what do I find? ...You. And you, standing next to her and her godforsaken sisters."
Tooth thought of home for a brief second then it flew away.
'Fiv...S-Si...Si–Se...Seve–'
"But why? How do you end up there?" Pitch snarled. "Now, in this profession, I make it my business to watch everyone. I don't trust easy, not that anyone's worth my time. It's why my intelligence agency has performed in ten ways better than the one we left behind. Except for a few...minor mishaps."
He stared Dean for a moment before he looked at Sandy again.
"So when I left, I took several valuable assets. All the Rank A classifieds – yours, and our FAIRYQUEEN's, included."
'Ei...N...'WHAT?!' Tooth's throat suddenly became dry.
Pitch gripped Baby Tooth's hair tighter.
"You did not think that you vanishing before I did meant I was not the least bit...curious? I wondered to myself how–how might an exquisite agent like yourself manage to cover his tracks? And you know...you should really keep who your associates are under a tight cap. I know who my business partners are. Such as that moronic Cossack who thinks his agency will dominate over mine–"
Sandy's skin crawled at the cruel laugh.
"–not in a million years! Oh or...Or the social sciences department over in that tiny, little Massachusetts town? The people are lovely there might I add. Tell me, how is dear Thia's GPA score managing–"
Sandy pulled angrily at his cuffs again.
"That bad, hm?"
Tooth whimpered behind her hand. He...He knew where she went to school?! For how long?! She couldn't remember where she was.
"Background checks are easy," he leered. "You would think years in this profession would have taught you a better job because thanks to you, I found Rashmi's legacy. My legacy."
"J-Ja..." the ELF trembled.
Jack didn't answer though – his skin was so white he might've died from blood loss.
His fingers were shaking.
"For all your tutoring and efforts though, your poor attempts at hiding their faces is where you pathetically separate yourself from me," Pitch said as he finally let go of Tatiana's hair and roughly pushed her back into the dark wall behind her.
She cried out in fear and fell against it – but Pitch didn't move from where he was still standing close to her.
"I recognized Toothiana the moment I saw her. She is the spitting image of her mother – and you'd think you'd have the brain to send these little copies for...plastic surgery."
Tat clutched at both sides of her head.
She tried to block him out, trying to be strong in Tooth's absence and for all her younger sisters – but it was like trying to nail Jello to the wall.
She gritted her teeth.
"S-Stop it! St...St-t–"
"Oh and, you're going to like this one, when I come to discover her Prime Minister is secretly arranging rendezvous with Nicolas St. North's ELFs on your behalf every month?! Imagine my surprise! And I think to myself, if the FAIRYQUEEN died years ago how are their existences possible and why are you three so loyal to her progeny?"
As Pitch's laugh cold and empty laugh filled the room, Jack ran a shaky hand through his bangs.
"You lose, Sanderson. Because the rest was easy." Pitch said, sounding almost frustrated. "Too easy! All that had to be done was to track an ELF–"
"You will see. The world will turn pitch black."
"H-H-He took't! He-took-i-it!"
"...figure out just what is so important about a little mutant's daughter..."
"Shut it up! SHUT IT UP, THIS INSTANT!"
"Please don't! I-Who are you?!"
"Doctor, the arms–"
"Tie them down! This metal table is strong enough."
Tooth bit down on her lip as she looked up at the ceiling in disbelief.
"Then add it to the formula: What is the constant for you staying, skirting, around her set of clones?"
"Daddy...hpmh, d-daddy..." Tooth cried softly as she laid alone on the rug.
"C'ns...H-His...My...I ha-have to...I-I–"
"And do you know what I find?"
He then turned back to BT's shadowy face against the wall.
"You, my dear, have renewed my fight," Pitch finished. "Because the Center...it grows inside you."
Jack stood frozen in place.
His grew so impossibly wide.
He was almost certain the frost around him had traveled down over boots but he was too shell-shocked to–
"I couldn't rip the dependent gene from a GUARDIAN, but if I've a got hybrid copy, then I've got an incubus. And I'm going to extract it! And when I do, I'm going to p–"
CLANK!
Pitch stopped and turned back.
Sandy had his cuffed hands on the ground. He gasped heavily in a silent scream for Tatiana.
His disdain washed over his body and throughout the room culminating emotions of anger, frustration, confusion, anxiousness...and also fear. Fear for what Pitch had done – and what he might've done.
Tooth felt a tear slip down atop her hand covered mouth...Jack felt like he wanted to double over.
For a moment, Pitch didn't say a word...but he then turned back to Tatiana.
He touched her arm softly gently and BT wasn't prepared for the action that came next.
"Love..." he murmured emptily. "Step into the light."
And he roughly pulled her forward.
Baby Tooth stumbled on her bare feet and caught herself just under the light bulb.
At first she didn't move or say anything. She just stood there horribly hunched over and afraid. But the silence hung for so long, she thought something might happen to her if she didn't lift her head – or worse, to Mr. Sandy.
She choked on a sob–her head snapped up.
And when she gasped for air...
Sandy felt his shoulders slump.
His expression fell completely and he looked at the girl, he'd basically raised as one of his own daughters, with such silent horror.
Jack's heart fell into his stomach – a fleeting pang for Emma rushed through him again and it nearly killed him.
And Tooth...Tooth couldn't see but her heart was jumping.
She thought Pitch would never stop.
But he didn't say a word and for every second that ticked by, Tatiana's eye started to burn.
"M...M-M...Sa...I-I...Hunnh-hh–"
She whimpered loudly in pain but didn't move to rub her eye – even as the one started to leak with tears.
Her two normally wide eyes were slightly glazed over but of the two irises she was proud of, one eye was no longer purple.
It was a bright turquoise – and it gave her tawny-skinned, messy-hair appearance a chimeric look.
When it started to sting immensely, catching weird lights no one else could, BT sobbed again and tilted her head to the floor again.
She was so afraid. Jack and Sandy couldn't understand why.
Heterochromatic eyes weren't so terrible; in fact, they suited Baby Tooth.
But did...did it hurt?!
Was there something el–
"Trust me," Pitch started again. "Her pretty face is the least of her worries. Of all the others who have failed, she is the one who is successful."
Blood ran cold, striking their hearts.
'The others...th'othrs...failed?!'
Tooth hated feeling like a useless piece of shit.
She covered her eyes with her hands before she forced everything in her battered body to lean toward the open entrance again.
Pitch fixed her with a murderous look.
"Tatiana, my dear, is the only copy of your precious princess with the Center properly reactivated. She's stronger than she ever was before so, do not take her obvious grovelling for show."
But BT kept breathing in and out like the room was losing oxygen.
Pitch ignored her.
"Her biorhythms have doubled and her cell regeneration is faster than most human beings. Such a remarkable thing."
The terrorist then started to walk back around Tat as he put his hands behind his back.
"Do you want to know how?"
Sandy wasn't even looking at him.
The GUARDIAN was too busy staring at Tat like his life depended on it – which it sorta did. To think, her life had changed all because he couldn't protect her like he was asked to.
BT frowned, mildly understanding his expression.
She was nowhere near as good at understanding him as Tooth or Tia, but she knew enough to recognize when his heart was crumbling under his suit.
She shook her head pleadingly but he turned his head to the floor to hide his own shame.
"N-n-M–"
"Peppermint."
Sandy shut his eyes.
"Menthol, to be exact: natural oil extract, 64pH," Pitch reiterated. "That's the active stimulation at which the Center Gene can either grow or decay. And I figured it out."
BT choked back a miserable cough.
Pitch glared at her over his shoulder.
"It's just too sad that poor Rashmi didn't get the sufficient concentration level or dosage...It might have saved her but then...where would I be! Or our dear other GUARDIANs?!"
"Christ, Jack!" the ELF in Jack's ear whimpered. "W-W-He–"
But Jack switched off the complink.
He could almost feel his chest compress under his bodysuit.
If Tooth were here...Oh god if Tooth were here, he couldn't–
"It's ironic then that dear Thia's country houses the world's biggest peppermint plots, don't you agree?"
And Tooth breathed so tight through her nose to stop the cry from leaping out of her chest. She wanted to storm in her and fire bullets! She wanted to scream and tear him apart and fly away with Tat and Mr. Sandy forever...but Pitch had them both at his mercy and...a-and where was J–
'No! Not him too. Not him too.'
She choked under her breath.
Pitch would hear her – but she couldn't see straight anymore that she thought she'd black out–
Dean suddenly shuddered.
In his slow, dying breaths the length of one shadow crawled over his face. It sent a slither of cold across his exposed skin.
"But they're all dead, remember? So what's the point," Pitch seethed. "Being a GUARDIAN was great but there was always a catch. Given enough deaths and everything they fought for in this world...the wonder, the hopes, the dreams, they disappeared. And little by little, so did they."
Then he took two steps back, challenging Sandy to come at him when he knew he couldn't.
"Because," he breathed. "Who needs a GUARDIAN? In the end you're all ghosts, and you all go away which means, there's no real purpose for you anymore..."
The Nightmare King knowingly turned up to face the glass balcony.
"...isn't that right, Ja–"
CRACK!
Pitch stopped.
He snapped his head in the direction of the distant and ominous sound, and his eyes became wildly alert.
...
But then the lights went out.
...
...
...Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-schhk!...
...BOOM!
Tatiana screamed bloody murder.
...
Jack reacted instantly, his heart immediately pounding with fear.
"NO!"
He rushed at the glass and activated the light on his E-lens, but the horrifying vibration across the floor was messing up his balance.
The entire facility felt like it had leveled by an earthquake!
As dust sprinkled onto the floors, he snapped his head left and right.
Jack spun in tight circles to get a view of everything.
"Come on, what's...argh, come on!"
Once it was on, it outlined the rooms in the darkness.
He gripped his staff then on hot blood, he rushed forward.
Throwing a hard swing, Jack pushed the wind with the brunt of his titanium rod. It smacked against the bulletproof glass and created a slight crack. He immediately followed by shoving a device into the split until the activated frequency splintered the glass into more fissures.
Then with a mighty jump, Jack yelled out angrily and threw a back kick into the weakened glass with his heel.
CRACK...
After a few more seconds, the shaking stopped and the lights flickered back on.
...
Tooth gasped.
The returning lights gave her vision again but she was still shaking from the four seconds it had gone out.
Scrambling on the still shaky floor, she pulled up, ready to barge in.
"N-N...No one hurts my family!" she gasped on cold fury. "NO ONE!"
And the princess tilted her head passed the archway to get an aim at Pitch when–
Her heart stopped in her chest.
"B-Bu-But I...NO! I–MFFHMMM!"
Someone covered her mouth and dragged her away.
But tears in her eyes blurred her vision and swallowed Toothiana's heart up like an avalanche.
...
CRASH!
Glass rained down on Sandy from above and he moved around violently – until Jack dropped like thunder a second later on his hands and knees with a heavy breath.
He got up instantly and sprinted over to the SANDMAN.
"I've got you!" He quickly took out his fusion cutter and cut the steel cuffs. Once they were off, the two got up and spun to face Pitch.
"TATI–"
But her name fell on Jack's lips as the two left the blood leave their faces.
Tatiana was gone.
So was Pitch.
And in their place...a dark tunnel had opened up in the wall.
Jack made to step back with nervous energy, gripping his staff so tight he wanted it to snap in two under his hands.
"He knows..." his deep voice murmured. "He knows I'm..."
He looked back at Tooth's nanny but the short man was already at Dean's side checking the unconscious man's wounds.
Jack squinted nervously. His heart rate was still irregular and his fingers were tingly and twitching.
"Is he–"
Sandy shook his head, but he patted North's ELF's shoulder gently.
Dean was still alive, just in some kind of hibernation – a trick that elite fighters knew well to decrease pain, play dead, and reserve their body energy.
After a moment, Sandy moved back to Jack's side, until he noticed the younger GUARDIAN's slight fidgeting. Tooth's companion looked like his frown would be a permanent feature on his face.
Sandy puffed his cheeks gently.
He touched Jack's wrist and somehow, Jack didn't react negatively. He looked down instead, blue eyes dragging themselves to the gold gentleman.
But Sandy only shook his head and pointed forward.
And as the two of them silently faced the never-ending darkness...Jack's lips pulled back in cold snarl.
The frost erupted in his fists and wrapped his gloves in hard ice.
If Pitch wanted to play, then so be it.
Chapter's soundtrack: "How This All Began" – Celldweller
You just read 40 pages. Go you ;D Lol now take a break because I'm going to bombard you in the few next days with the next chapters. Pitch finally did his talk (every villain needs their grand moment) so expect constant physical suspense lol. Let's get Jack through this, together!
*Everything I do is for a reason, even the things that don't seem to make sense. Think on that. (: