"𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪."

Epilogue 4: Zemblanity

( Set between Nyctophilia and Ineluctable )

If someone had told Mark that he'd be hunting alternates in his early twenties with one of them as a sidekick a year ago, he'd have laughed at their face and called their bullshit out. But now, driving to the location his client specified, looking back at the disguised alternate nervously shifting in the back seat, he could safely say that they'd have been right.

The reason he ended up doing this was simple: money. He could safely blame his ever lowering bank account amount on capitalism, on prices going up and paychecks going down, and on the new mouth he had to feed. 3 was a good roommate, it cleaned up after its considerably rare messes, and kept the house spotless. Unfortunately, the alternate was completely unprepared for the human world, with no skills to speak of to even consider applying for any jobs, not to mention the obvious issue that came with the law knowing that Cesar Torres wasn't living anymore. It was times like these where Mark wished he hadn't ratted him out, but it was the right move back then.

Either way, he had needed cash, and the only skills that 3 had going for it were violent ones. Then, on one sleepless night, he had an epiphany. Alternate hunting. Sure, he supposed it may be a bit awkward for the other, considering that even with its uncharacteristic behavior, it was still one itself. But, to Mark's surprise, his housemate practically jumped on the idea.

And this is how he found himself having made an alternate hunting 'organization'. He hadn't expected any calls for a good while, and certainly not a day after he'd designed a crude website for people to check out and then get their contact information from. But here he was, a mere two days after it was put up, with a customer who sounded somewhat off. He couldn't blame them, considering he knew how paranoia inducing they tended to be, but it was something he took note of.

"You alright there, dude?"

His words seemed to bring 3 out of whatever thought it had been so transfixed on, blinking twice before settling down. It was odd to see it with Cesar's body, but without his face. It had forgone that much, for Mark's comfort, which he did appreciate.

"Mm, yeah, it's just... Odd, I guess? I don't usually see other alternates, so going to actually find them is weird."

Mark hummed softly, acknowledging the other's words, but not replying to them. Understandable, really, as long as it didn't get in the way of what they were trying to do. The ride there was quiet afterwards, neither of them quite knowing what to say. After a few minutes of silent driving, Mark parked the car and turned it off, pulling out the keys and putting then back into his pocket.

"Well, we're here. Are you ready?"

After a few seconds of nothing, 3 nodded, opening up the door and stepping out, looking around. It looked to be a mostly secluded area, the soft chirping of birds and occasional rustling nearby the only real noise around. It heard sound of the car door open and close, Mark walking until he was next to it, looking at the house.

"Our client said he left the door open, and to get rid of it as quickly as we can. Do you sense anything in there?"

Slowly, 3's form shifted from its unassuming, human one, elongating and darkening until it was in its real one, walking up to the front door. As it got closer, the air got colder, far colder than it should be in the middle of summer.

"Mhm. Get the shotgun, Mark."

After a few seconds, it heard the sound of the trunk opening up, being closed a few seconds later, spotting Mark approaching it from its peripheral vision.

"Ready. Open the door, 3."