Øverturning the lies (a twenty one pilots fanfiction)

~Clancy~

Clancy opens his eyes. It's so bright. Too bright. 

He squints, trying to figure out where he is. 

The neon lights illuminating the room let him know he is somewhere in Dema. 

No, he thinks, Please, anywhere but here. 

He remembers a time when he wore the yellow clothes of the banditø rebels. When he was one of them. That was a long time ago. 

But he wishes he were still among them, and safe. 

Assuming they still were safe. 

Oh, by the bishops, he hopes they're safe.

Clancy realizes what he just said and begins to feel even more hopeless. Years of his life have already been spent here. Will he ever truly be free? 

He looks around the room, trying to distract himself from the restlessness he feels now, the restlnessness he always feels.

But when he sees the red-cloaked figure enter the room he feels a new emotion: fear.

"Keons," he says.

"Clancy," the bishop says in return, striding across the room, grabbing Clancy's arm, and pulling him roughly to his feet.

"Where are you taking me?" Clancy asks hoarsely, in a voice that rebels against his wishes, that wishes for him to remain silent in the present of the person he wants looked to as a father figure, back when he was ignorant and young.

He fights against that. He has been silent for far too long already. 

Keons doesn't say anything. 

Of course he doesn't. 

How did I ever feel at home here? Clancy asks himself. 

He considers running. 

He almost does. 

At least then he'd have a chance, however slight.

But Keons is too fast for him, making his move before Clancy can even react.

~~~

"I did warn you," Keons says.

The bishop moves towards him, places his cold hands around Clancy's neck.

And the horribly familiar feeling of being suffocated traps him once more as the black marking takes its old place on his skin.

Clancy tries to jerk back, of course.

Not that it does anything.

"Oh, child," Keons says, almost wistfully. "Stop trying to run from your destiny."

"And what," Clancy says through gritted teeth, "Is my destiny?"

"To solidify the teachings of vialism even further," Keons says.

Clancy wants to scream, he really does. But he can't make a sound. His old companion, fear, has decided to overwhelm him again.

He's able to say one thing, however.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he asks as calmly as he can.

Keons doesn't reply, just lets out a sigh.

For several moments Clancy is paralyzed, stunned.

Death used to haunt his dreams in this place, taunting him with the prospect of release.

Even sometimes in Trench it did.

He never could help that.

But all he feels now is an odd sense of relief. One of the nine will bring about his end.

For daring to refuse the lies that had been forced down his throat his entire life.

Clancy never wanted to die-never. All he ever wanted was an end to his pain.

He still doesn't want to die. Maybe that was part of human nature. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what may as well be the end.

But if this is his time, he can't think of a more fitting way.

He will have died a rebel.

And that pleases him.