𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤, 𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤.

Missed Calls

(Tw: gore, violence, SH and potential ED mentions. I warned you all this would get into some shit.)

Six weeks. Six weeks, one unnerving brodcast, and over a hundred missed calls. That's how life was going. Mark had been eating less and less. Unmotivated to move or do anything most days. His arms and legs were covered in scratches and scabs and a few scars. He liked to joke to himself that he was a valid barcode now. He only left if it was necessary. He kept missing Cesar's calls and he knew it had to be worrying the other. He didn't care.

Nothing really mattered at the moment. Mark was just. Alone. Trapped in a void of his own thoughts. He rolled out of bed at 4 PM in the same clothes he'd been wearing two days prior, practically flopping down the stairs and getting a bowl of cereal  before sitting down on the couch and turning on the tv, gently tracing over the lines on his arms and losing interest in the food he'd gotten for himself. He turned his attention back to the cereal and took a few bites, setting the rest of it back on the kitchen counter afterwards.

Mark stood and headed into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, locking it in case Cesar pulled up and bashed his door in. He smiled slightly at the thought. Truth be told he missed his friend. He wished that Cesar would do just that, but given how bruised he was when he left, he doubted his mother would let him come near Mark for a while.

Mark flinched at a noise from outside, he had just been trying to make himself look presentable, had something broken in? Oh good lord this was not a good time for this. He opened the door, quickly running and grabbing his shotgun from the kitchen. He readied himself, looking around the room. Lowering his weapon once he realized it was just paranoia. Or at least. He thought it was just paranoia.

3 watched him from outside, this would be the perfect night to kill two birds with one stone. It quickly disappeared back to it's usual haunt. Staying completely silent all the while.

Mark was panicking a bit, this wasn't exactly a good thing. Either he had really heard something or he was hallucinating. Either way that was bad. He sat back on the couch, thinking over the brodcast a week or so prior. Alternates. That's what those things were called. What he had seen when he was four. What people always told him he was crazy for trying to talk about. He knew he wasn't crazy. He knew they were real. Mark realized suddenly that his friend may have been unprepared.

"Oh. Shit." Mark stood quickly, making a quick run for the door but suddenly stopping himself. "No. He doesn't want to see me anyways, I'm sure. Besides. He can protect himself" Mark flopped back down onto the couch. He knew he wasn't going to sleep, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was alive. Mark glanced at the window, god he hoped Cesar was okay

((Wooooo here we go. Fun fact I got help writing this next part from our alter of Cesar and uh..partially from our alter of Alt Cesar.

Hi - Cesar :]

Greetings - 3))

Cesar sat awake, was it paranoia or an obligation to finish his work that was keeping him up. It was getting later and, by proxy, darker. Cesar had done what he was supposed to and locked everything. The brodcast spooked him as much as it had made him laugh. There was an official warning about something that some guy had probably just seen while he was high. Then again they wouldn't release a warning for just that, would they?

He sighed, flopping out of his desk chair and into his bed. He could rest for a little bit, right? ...When Cesar woke, four hours had gone by. He glanced at his alarm clock, jolting up and back out of bed when he saw the time, cursing quietly under his breath. He sat back at his desk to finish his work. And then the temperature dropped. God fucking dammit this was the worst time.

Cesar stood, a chill running down his spine, not only did he feel like he'd freeze if he didn't fix this in the next five minutes, but he felt as if he was being watched. He didn't know who, or what, was watching him but he wished it would stop. His first instinct, since his mother wasn't home yet, was to call Mark to help him. That wouldn't do much though, Mark was either dead or ignoring him, and Cesar really hoped it was the latter.

He sighed and made his way to the basement, it was probably just the air conditioner malfunctioning, right? He wasn't exactly scared, no, he just turned on more lights than usual on his way to the basement, just moved faster down the stairs, just glanced over his shoulder and wished he had a gun every now and then. He found the controls for the air conditioner and...everything was normal. What the hell? Why was he so cold then? He cursed at nothing again, darting back up the stairs.

The door was locked. First of all he hadn't closed it behind him, second of all the locking mechanism was on his side of the door. He frantically fumbled with the lock, eventually getting it to unlock and opening the door. He practically slammed the basement door open. And then he heard it. Someone was in the house. He knew better than to call out to anyone. He heard something break a bit ahead of him in the dark (hadn't he turned that light on?)

He froze in his tracks, when nothing else happened he made a silent, but insanely quick, dash for the kitchen. Cesar tripped on the edge of the tile and fell hard onto the kitchen floor, letting out a yelp. He pulled himself along the floor for a moment before trying to stand and reach the phone. He barely touched it before something grabbed him. No- no no no no no- he tried to pull away, frantic "no- nononno- Mark- I need to- AUGH-" he yelled out, either in pain or in fear but he couldn't tell which.

He almost screamed at what he saw standing over him. Stretched and distorted, a mockery of humanity. He kicked and flailed when two appendages from the thing's back stabbed through his arms, pinning him in place as he screamed out. He cried, calling for people that couldn't hear him and would never hear him again. He pleaded with it to stop, begged for his life.

Instead of hearing his pleas it put one clawed hand firmly on his lower jaw and began to pull. It tugged and pulled  and grinned as it took in the pained groans and whimpers it got from its victim. Eventually it wrenched his jaw to the side so hard that not only had it broken, but Cesar's neck had snapped. He was dead.

It looked at him, grin growing wider as it reached down the corpse's throat and tugged at its organs, pulling them out one by one to make room for itself. After the body was cleared out enough, the creature slipped inside of it. It enjoyed the feeling of the skin stretching to fit him inside of it. Eventually the skin of the human merged with it's own as if nothing had happened. He smiled dusting himself off, getting ready to go change into un-bloodied clothes.

And then he heard the screaming. Cesar's mother had arrived and seen everything. He quickly approached her, the mere sight of her son's bloodied corpes being piloted by a demonic creature seemed to cause her to faint. Well. That was easy. 'Cesar' quickly took care of her, putting the organs and the body into a trashbag and stuffing it into a cabinet. He grabbed a rag and some bleach from another cabinet and cleaned the blood out of everything.

After a while, when everything was clean, 'Cesar' stood. He walked to the phone and called his second victim, well, second purposeful one. He smiled as he dialed the number. Given Mark's mental state, at least from what it had seen, this time he'd crack and answer the phone. It was only a couple of rings before he knew he was right, Mark had answered him. He smiled, beginning to speak in an almost perfect mockery of Cesar's voice.

"Hey, it's Cesar, I hope it's not too late."