Jacksepticeye and Friends/Egos One-Shots

(major tw) fake and never free

Reposting, sorry.

Warnings (intense stuff, I'm stressed): blood, convulsing (not seizures, its from electricity), major character death, but who's to say he ever really can die :), hospitals.

A/N: lotta whump, feel free to murder me within the week :)

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It was a quiet kind of day. Chase's mind hadn't been causing him trouble and Jackie had called to check up on him while he was on patrol, since the younger was staying at his flat for a visit. He'd barely brought enough clothes, most of which weren't clean to begin with when he'd stuffed them in his bag, and Jackie insisted on throwing them in the laundry. It was a different machine to Chase's at his house, so he left them and put on a pair of shorts and a hoodie from Jackie's own small—and clean—collection of casuals, normally having no reason to wear them as his hero duty took up most hours, day and night.

Chase found he didn't mind they were a little baggy, and decided to go out, forgetting, even, that he had them on. He texted Jackie that his phone was on charge and he wasn't planning on going far, reassuring him he'd be fine at the slightly worried attention his text brought, then left with the hood up.

He kept his attention on the ground and his scuffed, torn shoes as he walked briskly to nowhere in particular, just needing some air in the calm of midday. He breathed and settled, enjoying it mindlessly, then stopped outside a convenience store, stepping into it to buy a fizzy drink.

As he walked up to the cooler, Chase realised he felt a sort of courage in his being. He reached instead for an energy drink, weighing it in his hand for a moment to decide, then taking off to the cashier with a nod, digging out some change along the way.

Weirdly, he felt eyes on him, also, but other than him and the young cashier, there was no one else in the store, and the cashier was reading something on his phone... he shrugged it off, payed, and left, enjoying the sugary beverage as he walked down the street with this newfound confidence, back the way he came.

For a while, he was alone walking, then the eyes were back. Before he got a chance to shout, something hit him over the head and he passed out.

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His head throbbed as he woke and he was completely unsure where he was or how he'd gotten there. He thought, at first, that maybe he was dreaming up the ropes around his chest and ankles, and the cuffs on his wrists keeping them pinned to the separated arms of the chair and away from the rest of his body, but the pain was oh, so real.

He'd been captured, and he could see no way out. Hell, there wasn't even a door on this room, how did he get inside-

"Shit..." he cried softly, then he heard something in the distance, a crackling static, and the floor in front of him erupted into pixels, a man standing in the once empty spot with a crazed grin, and the sudden sense of shit, I'm going to die rose in Chase's chest as he heaved breaths against the ropes and began to try and struggle his way out of everything.

"Tsk, tsk, hero," the man in front of him—Anti—said. He stalked around to the back of the chair and breathed on Chase's neck, stilling him in place, the man grinning satisfied. "Didn't take you as so much of a chicken. A wimp. Think the hero of the city would have more control over himself and his emotions—and better clothes."

This furthered Chase's fear and confusion, but he caught on quickly. "I-I just—"

"Scared, too, little hero? My, how things have changed." He came back around the front, crouching and tilting his head. "Are you going to beg? Shall I take off the cuffs so you can get down on your knees, whining for me to let you go? Too bad!"