We'll Get There {AntiAverage} (ABANDONED)

1: JBM

1188 words

It had been eight months since Anti had been kidnapped. The Septics and Ipliers had been searching nonstop since they were aware he was gone, with the GamePlays helping where they could. Even so, no-one had managed to find a single trace of him.

Chase had suffered the most out of all of them, as he and Anti were the closest. I couldn't tell you why, but they seemed to be actual friends. He had actually thrown up into the trash can when we received Die's video, before swearing enough to make a sailor gasp and nearly breaking a cabinet. Bingiplier had been focusing his effort on spending time with Chase, and I'm pretty sure that kept him alive through the worst of it.

Marvin had taken to spending a lot of time with Robbie when he wasn't hunting Anti like a bloodhound. He devoted most of his free time to checking up on the zombie, if it wasn't used to keep his magical skills sharp. He and Anti hadn't gotten along great, but it was more of a frenemies situation than an outright hatred for one another- maybe a friendly rivalry. It was... odd, to see him act so distant after the glitchy ego was gone. He spoke the same, but he had an almost dead look in his eyes, like he was forcing himself to, and all the animation he had disappeared. I'd actually seen him trip on the stairs once, an action that was unbefitting of the graceful ego.

Jameson Jackson, being the gentle soul he was, was absolutely horrified when we had first received Die's tape. He'd lost his usual bounce, the near-constant excited smile now a distant memory. 'Gloomy' would be the word to best describe his aura, but I think that was just JJ's natural cartoonish posture. He really was sad, and it was like watching a kicked puppy.

Dr. Schneeplestein had thrown himself into his work, hardly getting any sleep while doing so. He had permanent dark bags under his eyes as a result, and he was rarely seen without a coffee in hand. He barely spoke anymore, usually just ineligible mumbles as he furiously scribbled his chicken-scratch writings down.

Everyone decided to keep it from Jack, and in the beginning we had good intentions for that. We didn't want him to worry, because there was nothing he could do, and it didn't need to affect the channel. As time went on, though, we eventually got nervous about the inevitable lecture we'd get when we did tell him. It'd been complicated to explain why Anti was never there when he visited, but I don't think he was too worried about it.

And me, Jackieboy Man? I think he's getting what he deserves. He's hurt so many people, been the villain in so many different stories, it's only fitting that he gets to be the victim now.

Of course I still search for him, I can't handle seeing my family so broken over this, but I hope he suffers before I find him. I'd never tell anyone that, though. He has everyone else enchanted. I seem to be the only one who remembers the old Anti, the real Anti. The one who kidnapped Henrik and put Jack in a coma, the one who tried to kill Stacy, the one who Marvin and I had to take down on multiple occasions.

Having said that, I was still here, in an old abandoned cottage, looking at his unconscious body. He had a shock collar around his neck, and he was shackled to a wall by his hands. His hair was matted with blood, and his tattered clothes were covered in the stuff. He was pale and incredibly thin, with sunken eyes and an air of general misery.

Even in this horrible state, the thought crossed my mind to leave him. After all, it would be easy to report back, and say I found nothing, right? I thought about the crushed look that seemed to sweep the room when I returned with said news and mentally shook my head. I couldn't do that. Besides, what hero would I be if I left someone in need, villain or not?

I gently closed the rotting door behind me, tip-toeing towards his sleeping figure. "Anti?", I whispered quietly.

His eyes gently fluttered open, then filled with panic. He tried to back away, taking in a gasp of air. "No, no, no, I'm sorry! I-I wasn't supposed to sleep- I- I didn't mean to- I'll do better, I promise, please don't hurt me-", he yelped, looking at me like a cornered animal. The chains around his wrists chimed as he pressed his back into the wall.

"Hey, no, Anti, it's Jackie. Jackieboy Man. I'm here to save you. You just have to let me get you out of the chains, okay?", I said as gently as I could muster, slowly stepping towards him with my palms up.

He let out a whimper, burying his face in his knees and flinging his arms over his neck, "N-No, I'm sorry! Please, please stop! I'll be better next time, please... no more..." With the end of that statement, a wave of sympathy hit me like a truck.

I shook it off, reminding myself of who this was, and backed away. I wasn't helping. Maybe one of the doctors would be able to? Or that therapist, what was his name, Plier? I sighed, putting as much distance between the two of us as I could without leaving, "Okay, okay. I'm going."

I glanced around the house and noticed a trapdoor. I opened it, curiosity-fueled, and propped it against the wall. Anti screamed, catching me off guard. Was he actually crying? I gave him a confused look before I turned my attention to the contents of what seemed like a bomb shelter. Only, this was a large one, with several "interrogation" stuffed inside. I nearly gagged when I noticed stale blood on some of the sharper ones, and quickly closed the entrance. No wonder Anti freaked out. Walking outside to get the address from the overgrown, rusty mailbox, I pulled out my phone and called Marvin. He answered after a few rings.

"Hello, Jackie?"
"I-I found him."
"What?"
"I said I found him, I found Anti."
"Holy shi- that's amazing! What- is he okay? Is he hurt? He's alive, isn't he?!"
"Marv, calm down. He's alive. But he's not great off. Pile everyone into the car and I'll call the Ipliers. We're.. going to need help."
"S-sure thing. What's the address?"

I gave it to him, bid goodbye, and hung up. I sat on the stubby steps of the dilapidated building and began to dial Dark's number, trying to still my shaking hands. The entity was the closest thing Anti had to a friend, and probably one of the only people outside the Septic house that was comfortable holding a conversation with him.

I hoped that this meant this whole ordeal was over, but judging by the state Anti was in, those hopes weren't high.