Almost But Not Quite Human

Welcome To My House (P2)

Tw: death, implied death and/or injury

Yeah sorry it's a angsty one.
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12:40pm.

Phil wasn't particularly surprised that Wilbur was running late, heavens know he lost track of time quite often, and he was only coming for lunch anyway.

Deciding on what to do, Phil turned down the oven a bit incase Wilbur ended up being really late, and he put the freshly chopped salad away in the fridge. He'd planned to make salmon fillets originally, but switched to an encroute at the last minute realising he didn't pick up enough spices for the salmon.

While admiring the pastry through his translucent oven door, Phil's intercom started buzzing. Quickly slipping off the oven gloves and dusting off his hands on his apron, Phil walked over to the intercom. Wilbur must've finally arrived, he thought.

Phil pressed the button and listened. "Phiiiiiil let me in, sorry I'm late!"

Phil laughed, "Hang on Will I'll buzz you in."

Btttz

Not long after, Wilbur was at the door. He shook out his hair that was entirely messed up. Phil raised an eyebrow, "Is it really windy outside or something?"

"Nah, just forgot the beanie. Oh! And I brought these-!" Wilbur presented his bag of sandwiches before noticing Phil's apron and the oven gloves on the table behind him. "Ah, I forgot you were cooking."

Phil waved him off, and put the sandwiches in the fridge.
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News quietly humming in the background, Phil and Wilbur had just finished the encroute. "Phil. I need this recipe. That was delicious!"

Phil went red in the cheeks, "It's just an encroute mate. Nothing special-"

"'Nothing Special'?!"

Wilbur. Was. Shocked. That had to be the best fish he'd ever had in his life. "if you won't appreciate you're own fantastic ability, at least let me in on it."

(In present day, Wilbur hesitated, but carried on anyway)

Philza didn't reply, and Wilbur retreated. "Or you don't have to, I-"

"No. Wil, listen," and he pointed at the TV, still tuned into the news. Curious what could've caught Phil's attention, Wilbur turned up the volume.

"-the scene where a person has just been killed following yet another assault by the Liberators. The police are trying to control the crowd but it seems groups are people are tying to stop them..."

"Wilbur. Aren't those your friends?"
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Phil looked on as his friend's face crumpled, yet surprisingly he said, "Keep it on."

"-it seems that in an attempt to assault a mutated, the Liberators have actually killed a person who was trying to defend them and are now growing in number against the mutated present. The victim - a 24 year old man named Jack - was stabbed-"

The TV was turned off.

"Wilbur, I'm so sorry..." Phil knew how close Wilbur and the Soothouse were, this couldn't be easy for him hear. But there was also another problem: Philza's apartment wasn't actually that far from the restaurant that the news person was at. And the 'mob' was aggressive and growing fast now, he could actually see people gathering on the street below.

"I think we need to leave."

Wilbur looked at his old friend, and a tear trickled down his cheek, "I- they're going to die, Phil. I need to help I have to-"

Phil took Wilbur by the shoulders, "Do what, Wilbur? What can you do that won't get you killed too?"

"But-"

"I'm sorry," Phil repeated, "We are in danger if we stay here. We knew this was coming one day."

Both mutated jumped at the sound of a pounding on the door.

"Open up you scum!"

Philza's heart went ice cold. "Wil please-"

"... Okay"

"I said open up!"

Wilbur huffed, and walked over to the door. "Um. What are you doing mate?"

"He wants us to open up?" Wilbur cracked his knuckles, "Then why  don't we?" Wilbur threw open the door and punched the person at the door. Right in the face. Damn. The man hit the floor hard, and Philza heard shouts from down the hall.

"That maniac!"
"I knew the mutated were evil!"
"Get him!"

Phil had never seen Wilbur like this, his best friend laughed and yelled, "Bring it on!" He was going to get himself killed, but the mood was catching.

"Hey wait for me!" Phil called, and ran after Wilbur. While never being a martial arts master, Philza reckoned he could hold his own. Time to test that theory.
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Five minutes later, Wilbur burst into the cold air. His knuckles were covered in blood, some of it was probably his.

He hadn't killed anyone - but bloody noses were going to be a common occurrence for anyone in that hallway.

There was a crazy smile on Wilbur's face, but it dissolved into a grimace. He tasted salt mixed with the air.

Dead.

Wilbur couldn't do this again, he couldn't lose someone again. He should have been there. For Jack. For her-

There was a hand on his shoulder. Philza. "Hey man, you good?" He was breathing hard.

"As close as I can be right now."

"What's the plan?"

"Honestly? There wasn't one. But I know a guy out of town. He'll help."

They didn't get far out of town, before bumping into another person.

(In present day, Techno cringed)

A shadow swept across Phil's vision and he felt a blade at his throat. A deep, monotone voice said,"Who are you? And why are you here?"

And the rest is history.
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(Present)

"What! You're just gonna stop there! You haven't even gotten to my part yet!"

Tommy's protest was ultimately ignored, as Wilbur was still a little bleary-eyed from the story, and Philza was tired of talking.

"When we came across Tommy-" (The child in question pouted), "We decided maybe it was best to just... Make a life out here instead of searching for a new one y'know?"

There were nods all round.
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I'm sorry!!! For killing some (all? You don't know. ) of Soothouse!!!! Please forgive meeee!!! If it makes you feel better, they probably weren't the only ones to die. Ah, maybe that doesn't help.

Sincerely, a necromancer's apprentice