Jack gazed at the knife – its blade reflecting light into his eyes. He took a deep breath. The lights in his recording room were dim as he knelt in front of a candle-lit pentagram.
The Internet said this would work... but after calling out and chanting incantations, Anti never came. The only other option was to use his own blood, and after all that had happened, he was crazy enough to consider it.
Anti had impacted the online community in ways Jack never expected. The fans were obsessed. He couldn't scroll through his social media feed without being reminded of each of the "egos" – acting as gasoline to a creative fire. There was fan art, role-playing, fan-fictions... endless content all started by a few videos that he didn't even post himself.
It was bittersweet. Everyone was blissfully unaware of how Anti was slowly destroying his life. How Anti had led him to using pentagrams as a desperate measure to "summon" him and end the madness he started.
"Just a small cut", he reassured himself. He took another deep breath, placing the blade closer to his hand. His jaw tensed. The knife pressed in on his palm.
"̷D̶id̵ y̵o̷u ̶mi̶ss̸ m̵e̵?" A shaky voice spoke.
Jack looked up to find his volatile counterpart lounging by the opposing wall.
He exhaled in relief, "Alright... You're here."
"Y̵o̸u ̴k̸no̶w̴ t̶h̶a̶t̵ ̵s̸hit ̸d̵oe̸sn̷'t̶ ̸w̴o̸rk̸, r̸ig̶ht̷?" Anti looked down at the five-point star.
"Look, I need to level with you."
"̸A̶b̸o̶u̵t w̴hat̶?̷"̷
"You fucking know about what," Jack hissed, his shadowy eyes accentuated by the flicker of candlelight. "This 'game', as you call it. This puzzle you've made in order to torture me with – I need the pieces."
"̷I̵ ̴g̶ave̵ ̴yo̸u̶ t̵he̸ p̴ie̷ce̴s̸."̸
"No – you haven't. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I can't weave through time and space like you apparently can."
"̷Y̵o̷u'̷re̶ r̸ig̵ht̶. Y̴o̶u ̶are̵ ̸qu̷it̶e ̵i̶nf̷er̵io̷r̷."̴
Jack rolled his eyes, "Look - right here, right now: I want to know everything. Then we can get to the next inevitable phase of your bullshit scheme."
Anti glared into his eyes. Jack didn't flinch. The blood-smeared villain smirked, never breaking his stare as he leaned back against the wall.
"̴Y̷o̵u ̵ha̸ve̵ ̴a ̵de̴al̸," he grinned.
Jack sat in his chair, facing him.
"What exactly did you show me?" he asked. "The scene at the old oak tree."
"T̷he̴re a̴re ̴s̴ix ̷r̵e̶ali̷tie̶s̵ w̶he̴r̵e̵ ̶y̶o̵u̵ ̷– w̸e̶ ̶– ̵e̵x̶is̶t. ̸S̶i̵x ̵re̷al̷it̵ies ̶th̵a̶t l̶iv̵ed d̶iff̸ere̶nt̸ liv̷e̴s̷ b̶a̴s̶e̵d̴ o̷n̷ e̵x̷p̵er̶ie̵n̸ce̶s ̶f̵r̷o̸m̷ t̷he̶ p̵as̵t...̵ ̷Bu̵t ̷no̷t̵ me̸. I w̵as̷ t̷he̸ o̷ne̴ w̵ho̵ n̷e̶ve̸r l̴ive̴d̶."̴
"So now you go around terrorizing your counterparts because you have nothing better to do?"
"̵I'm ̴t̵ak̵in̵g̴ b̴a̵ck̵ w̴hat̸'s̵ r̸ig̴ht̵fu̶ll̵y m̴ine̵!"̴ Anti growled.
"To what end?"
"T̸he̶re̸ is̸ n̴o̷ en̸d ̵fo̵r̴ m̴e̶ -̶ I̵ ̷a̷m̴ e̸te̴rn̴al!"̴
"You're what?"
"̷I'̵m ̷e̵te̴rn̴a̴l!̶"
Jack tilted his head, "...A turtle?"
YOU ARE READING
The Threads That Bind Us: An AntiSepticEye Origin Story
Fanfiction*COMPLETED* Jack recognized him immediately, "Son of a bitch..." his perturbed voice echoed through the large room. The man remained silent, never breaking his focused gaze. "Now I have to deal with you? 'Jameson', right?" Jack continued, approachin...
