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Darkness Can Be Decieving

The Void. A place that humans should never be familiar with, and yet Jack knew his way around better than most demons did. There was no ground, no walls, and no ceiling. Just a disorienting darkness and the sharp, crisp air that static sounds created around him. It made walking nauseating. Most humans only had a tolerance of five minutes in The Void before they grew sick and eventually died. Fortunately for Jack, he'd spent enough time here to have grown accustomed to it. Sadly, however, he had lost many friends to The Void.

There was always a sort of heaviness to the air. A weight pressing down on Jack's shoulders as he took sluggish steps forward. It was as if his legs had been chained to enormous boulders that drug behind him. This trek, however slowly he decided to take it, could very easily be his last. So many thoughts had flooded his head during his walk. Most of them disheartening and unkind in regards to his self. He'd gone over his plan thousands of times, coming up with possible responses to every reaction imaginable. Regardless of how frightened he felt, he was determined to do this. The unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach was not enough to stop him now. He had to do this. He was tired of fighting. At this point, If he died trying to do the right thing, so be it.

It wasn't much longer before a figure came into view. The darkness that had once enveloped the figure seemed to ebb away, revealing the menacing figure. He looked impossibly tiny from where Jack stood. An ant on a nonexistent horizon. Seeing the figure made Jack's stomachs do flips. A vivid and familiar image flashed in Jack's mind as he thought back to their most recent encounter. Was this really something he wanted to do? Did he really want to risk his life for this? 

Yes. This was something he had to do.

The figure seemed to take note of Jack's presence rather quickly because he began to appear larger against the darkness, growing closer to Jack. He came at a fast pace, coming within earshot of Jack in a matter of seconds. An all too familiar ringing sound scratched through the air, tearing at Jack's eardrums. He winced, his head tilting to the left (his more sensitive ear), eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to block out some of the ringing. A new sound arose. One much louder than the ringing. Laughter. The figure's shrill, distorted laugh sent shivers down Jack's spine as his eyes snapped open to meet those of the smug demon who now stood only a few feet away.

"Anti..." Jack's voice was coarse and tight, as if it pained him to speak.

Anti, who wore his usual black t-shirt and ripped black jeans, cocked his head slightly in amusement. The bloodied scar at his throat seemed to draw itself open more as his neck stretched to the side slightly. It was disturbing to see the trails of fresh blood dribble down into the neckline of his shirt. The blood stained into the black shirt, somehow managing to look as if there had never been any blood at all. Perhaps that was why Anti always wore that shirt, Jack thought. 

Though a slightly more amusing thought crossed his mind. The gauges, the messy hair, the shouting, the black clothes with ripped knee jeans... Emo teenager.

"Jack." The demon growled, sizing up his host. Admittedly, Jack had grown rather sickly since the last time they'd met. However, Anti nonchalantly brushed it off as a side effect of The Void. Jack's dark green hair maintained a hint of eternal bed head syndrome to it that left it looking wild and unkempt. His usually brilliantly glistening blue eyes now looked dull and defeated. He was so weak now, struggling to stand upright anymore.

Anti almost pitied Jack in his defeated state. He was always so helpless, Easy to take control of. But this time was different. It was as if he'd lost his soul entirely. Which Anti wasn't as surprised by, considering he had five alter egos to share it with. The glimmer in his eyes was gone now, replaced only by a thin gloss of tears. A small part of Anti wanted to reach out and help Jack get better. A part of him knew that if Jack was unwell, so was he. But that tiny shred of consciousness within Anti was crushed by the static laughter that raged through his head constantly, branding itself a unique form of insanity. It made Anti forget his kindness, forget his heart in place of his knife. He spun it carelessly between his fingers, somehow managing to avoid any cuts from its razor sharp edges.