Taking Route East, Not Calling "Home" • Twenty One Pilots

TRENCH: 0.1: chapter one

a/n: It's been months since I've written a twenty one pilots fic, I hope you enjoy this radical idea. And yes, the title is an acronym.

-

Dema was never a place of solidarity, and it's nine bishops made sure of it. A place of feudalism, a place of prison. No way in, no way out. A dystopian, feudalistic, society run by nine men who ran a prison-like city. Those who left never came back, most vultures ate them alive, tearing them apart and throwing them in the neon that formed their gravestone. The same neon that "formed their brain" from what they were told ever since birth.

The nine bishops ran under a code name, a name symbolized by three colors: red, black, and white. They wore veils that were made of black tule, hanging from the hoods of their red hoods. They rode white horses, when they had to retrieve prime members of their elect. They made sure all was in order.

One bishop had died recently, in that same tower, a citizen left. The news had spread like the fire of the torches the "Banditos" used in the stories that were passed around as children throughout the towers. Keons was in distress, trying to keep the tower afloat without a bishop to run it.

The directions in Dema weren't normal. The bishops didn't want anyone to be able to navigate anywhere correctly. Since the city is in the guide of a compass, they tricked east as north, and teach everyone how to read a compass the way they "made" it. Travelers from the Banditos lend real compasses they make from Trench.

North was re-imagined as "Up", but in reality it was East, that's what made no sense when the citizens got the compasses, they quickly learned how much of a real lie it all was. As much of an illusion as Josh is whenever Tyler isn't with him. The made up directions go the same. The supposed East is Right, South Down, and West Left. Though, they were inaccurate, and those with real compasses from the outside only knew which way the sun really set.

Dystopian life wasn't easy for Tyler.

He lived in the tower of Nico, and yet, despite the vast amount of people in the tower, the bishop knew Tyler all too well. A cycle had formed with the boy. His friend witnessing it from the outside, unable to really live with it. His friend, his only friend. The only person that really payed any attention, the one friend that cared. The friend he made believe was there when he wasn't. The coping mechanism he had when the real, physical version of the hair-covered solider that saved Tyler every time, wasn't there.

Josh was in Trench, Tyler was not.

For some, god forsaken reason, Nico always knew where Tyler was, even if he left Dema to Trench, thanks to Josh and the Bandito camp. But alas, it was never successful. It was work, leaving the city, bandits camp, prison, and then tyler leaving again. A cycle, one that got heavier for his soul to bare every time he pulled through with it. The torchere he endured with every sentence got worse. The more they burned his neck and hands, singeing them.

Tyler was currently being held in prison, after failing another escape.

"You're here again."

Tyler jumped at the words. A girl, one by the name of Paige stood from the free side of the bars, looking at him and shaking her head. She had terrifying eyes, dark hair and the same clothes everyone wore in Dema. Her jawline was chiseled, as the Nills district never had enough food to supply anyone that lived there.

"W-Why wouldn't I be?" He asked her, she chuckled, handing the jacket he left through the bars to him. The tape still stuck on.

"Kids found it this time." She said, leaning on the bars.

"That was the point." Tyler said, putting the jacket on over his prisoner clothes, Paige chuckled, herb baggy eyes holding more life in them then usual.