Fear the Nobodies: Part Fifteen

>Your car blasts headlong into the werewolf, yeeting that bitch through the air to a symphony of collapsing metal and pained squeals

>Hurtling like a comet, his body twirls once or twice through the air before colliding with the blacktop skittering off the asphalt like an abandoned skateboard

>The driver-side window of your car cracks open

>Mike MOTHERFUCKIN Sapone – his eyes like glowing embers behind a cool pair of shades – throws an arm over your disintegrating steering wheel

>“Say the lines, Thumper,” Mike commands, his gaze deadlocked on the crumpled werewolf in his path

>“O-Oh! S-Should I go?” Sam squeaks

>“Yes, you little retard. What did I just say?” Mike says with an annoyed groan

>The passenger window snores down

>A pair of brown ears flops over the gap, followed by Sam, who wave as you with a shy smile-

>“SAM!” Mike’s voice comes out in a hoarse roar

>The rabbit squeaks in response, shakes his head like he’s shaking loose whatever thoughts of… you… that stretched his attention span too far

>“G-Get in f-f-fa-f-f-f-fag, we’re s-s-saving t-”

>“We’re saving the world!” Mike erupts, voice spilling into the seat behind him, much like an enraged director grilling his ‘talent’ for not knowing their lines

>“God damn you, Sam, you ruined this for me, you know that? The fact that I even found these sunglasses- you know what? Never mind. Forget about it.”

>“S-Sorry,” Sam whimpers

>Mike raises his shades and turns his gaze on you

>They’re REALLY glowing red

>And they’re oddly…

>…hypnotizing

>Oh fuck

>“Well? Are we going to do this thing or what?” He says. “Sam, get your fat ass onto one side of the car so your boyfriend can get in.”

>Your teeth ram together in anger

“He’s not my- I’m not-”

>With Sisyphean effort you unclench your locked jaw and throw open the battered passenger door to your own car

>There’s no time to think about the damage – more like trauma – that your car’s been subjected to.

>You’re not a poor family, but you’re also responsible for dings and shit like werewolf impact craters on the hood

>Besides, there’s something — or someone — missing from this equation

“Where’s Alex?” You say, scanning your car for the tallest member of the crew

>You are Alex

>Once, life held a certain type of promise – like the inevitable pearl swallowed by the oyster

>It’s hard to remember that ‘everything will be alright’ when you’re sprinting around the lunchroom as if your life depended on it

>Thoughts of joy, diplomacy, and love, escape you as you reel backwards, your mid-section narrowly avoiding a claw-swipe that could have turned your muscle to ribbon

>The werewolf that chased you into the lunch room is huge in stature, and faster than an animal his size should allow

>Thankfully, the both of you are fairly dumb

>Which gives you an advantage, for you see:

>The werewolf is mentally feeble, like a bumbling giant

>Your stupidity is tier above, honed to a blunted edge

>And you’re reckless

>You try to keep on the opposite end of lunch table to avoid dying, the two of you like a dog chasing its own tail

“Can’t- can’t keep this up,” you moan, chest already heaving from the effort of playing keep away with an eight-foot snarling beast

>The werewolf that got Anon and enslaved him with his hot werewolf dick is going to come for you too, metaphorically and-

>Diplomacy

>God, why did you never try reasoning with this creature?

>When there’s a small pause in the chase, you hit your opponent with your pitch

“I know that you’re mad at me right now, and I know Vanessa probably told you to kill us. But listen to me: we’re not enemies,” you say as slowly and as clearly as possible, though all you do is come off condescending and chiding

>Maybe logic will work on the werewolf? Surely some part of him must still understand what you’re saying

>The werewolf only snarls in dim acknowledgment of your human mouth moving up and down

>That’s a start

>You keep your feet moving around the tight circle of the lunch table

>If this guy had an IQ higher than room temperature, he’d lunge over the table and grab you, but he’s not the brightest bulb in the crayon shed, as the expression goes

>So he’s perfect for you

“You probably feel angry right now — but have you ever stopped and asked yourself why you’re so upset? You’re upset because you’ve been wronged by the people who you think control you.”

>At that, the werewolf goes still

>His head tilts ever so slightly with the distant recognition of words and logic, like lightning striking a sad tree in a barren field

>“You remember Vanessa Doermuth? She’s USING you, dude. Why go after some guys like me and Anon? Can’t you see that you’re being used like the lowly idiot that you are>

>At the utterance of the word ‘idiot’ the werewolf tries to snatch your shirt across the table and rip your ‘smart’ mouth off your face

>You swiftly duck backwards, spine bending from years of practice

“I understand your rage, my brother! I get it! See, I’m being used too. In fact, we’re all being used and abused…”

>The beast stills, just for a moment

“…by the system!”

>The werewolf tilts his head in recognition of something – not the words – but the feeling

>The feeling that is innate to all beings of higher consciousness, turned into werewolves or not:

>Liberation

>You carry on

“My system is one of economic and social oppression. I slave and toil at my chains, dear brother, but the CLASS TRAITORS of the Shop N’ Save have come to LOVE their cage! And your chains are… well you’ve likely been turned into what you are now by a group of nefarious teenagers – essentially the same thing. We are not enemies… but friends. We must not be enemies.”

>’Friends’

>The werewolf ponders those words with an expression of loose, far-gone understanding

>Maybe you’ve actually gotten through to him

>Woah

>Someone actually listened to you

>The realization spreads a mile-wide smile across your face

>You stroke your peach-fuzz, pushing your glasses up against the bridge of your nose like an anime protagonist

>Fuck, you probably look so cool right now

>You’re like that guy who wrote all those great plays

>Shookspear

“We’re all trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death.”

https://youtu.be/XVekJTmtwqM

>[The Dead Flag Blues intensifies]

“But we don’t have to fight.”

>The werewolf nods slowly, its ears flattening against its skull in submission and understanding

>Holy shit

>It’s actually working!

>You might actually have gotten through to someone — unlike those poor, shackled souls at the Shop N’ Save

>SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS YOU! THIS IS THE GREATEST MOMENT OF YOUR-

>Mike cracks the werewolf across the back of his head with a huge stone, sending the beast pitching face-first onto the table

>The wolf crashes face first onto the table, his once ‘open’ eyes now shut, his broad tongue drooping out of his mouth

>He’s as unconscious as people’s slavery to capitalism

>“And STAY DOWN!” Mike shouts at the unconscious werewolf

>You?

>You just stand stand there, completely stunned

>That

>Was

>So

>Cool

>You are Anon

>Mike just cracked a werewolf’s skull in solid blow to the head

>Sam cowers behind you, peeking around your midsection

>Mike spits on werewolf’s body, which looks like a massive, muscled carpet laid out across the table

“Nice hit, Mike,” you say

>In response, Mike shoots you a hateful scowl

>“If we’re done wasting time…” he says, anger creeping into his voice

>Mike turns and heads for the door, haphazardly throwing the rock behind him

>The force and trajectory are perfect – it rattles off the werewolf’s unconscious skull and onto the linoleum

>You decide it’s best to leave before that fucking INSANE badger finds you two again

>You shudder at the thought of what she’s doing to the poor werewolf she caught from earlier

>After this whole end-of-the-world business is through, you gotta find Sam a new job

>Speaking of, the bunny stops in the doorway, raising one ear like an antenna

“Hear something?” You say

>He nods in rapid succession

>“L-Laughter. A-And… a growl. S-Something is moving around in the w-w-walls,” Sam says as he glances behind him

>You put your hand on his back and guide him outside

“C’mon dude, it’s probably your boss. You gotta put shit behind you sometimes to move forward. We’ll be safe out here.”

>The rabbit’s face flushes with blood, a response that forces him to look away

>“I f-feel safe with y-y-you,” he says in a mumble

>Oh, you heard that

>You swear, with the outside temperature so cold and how hot your face feels, you body should be hissing off steam

>Stupid gay thoughts

>You turn your head and look straight (he) down at Sam

>Fucking hell, he must know how gay he sounds and acts

>There’s absolutely no way he’s not aware of this, despite how socially retarded he might be

>Why is this playing with your heart so much?

>You’re not into guys, but he’s so much more…

>…gentle? Than your friends, at least

>“Get moving, Thumper,” Mike shouts, already a good five or six feet ahead of you and Sam. “Because the sun’s about to come out and I’m starting to get hungry.”

>The four of you stand on the empty road leading in to the school

>Cars headed to work trundle by the opposite side of the road

>You flip through the red book, trying to find the passage about purification that you found the night before

>The sleeplessness weighs on you like a lead jacket, because you really, seriously cannot find it

>Mike stares at the rising sun swelling up from the east,

>He says nothing

>C’mon Anonymous, this is what you’re good for

>Books ‘n shit

>Oh God oh fuck

>You’re going to fuck everyone over since you can’t find this stupid fucking passage that you read last night while slamming piss beers

>It was some something… something about laying them at a road, and having a traveler pass over them? Was it a crossroads though?

>Fuck it

>You grab the (now dead) Venus flytrap and a handful of white flowers and shove them at Sam

“Here. You’re fast, so you get to run out into traffic. Put them in the middle of the road. Can you do that?”

>“W-Why me?” Sam squeaks in response

“Because I told you to, and if there’s a car coming you’ve got the best chance to escape,” you say, teeth ramming together, “now go!”

>Sam bolts into the center of the road, and he didn’t even pause to look for a car

>Thankfully traffic is scant this time of day

>Sam squats down and sets the bundle of plants in the middle of the street, pausing to arrange them in a neat pile

“Sam, you don’t need to do that! Come on back before you turn into a SAM-cake hahaha.”

>“S-Sorry!” He calls in response

>He looks left

>And then right

>And then…

>He freezes, his whole body

>A car speeds down the road, a dust cloud following like a banshee

>“C’mon Sam, just hop on back,” Alex says. “There’s a car coming.”

>Sam doesn’t move

>It’s like he can’t hear either of you

>Instead, Sam straightens his posture, his body tense and shaking

>Wtf

>Move, Sam

>Is he trying to prove some shit to you? Dodge the car?

“Yo, Sam, come on back!” You wave. “Stop fucking around dude, you did your job!”

>surely the car will slow down, right?

>…

>…

>It continues doesn’t slow down – it accelerates

>“Yo, Thumper! Get out of the fuck out of the way! You’re going to ruin the ritual!” Mike shouts

>“It’s like he’s ignoring us or something!” Alex says, turning to you, “you need to grab him. He’s going to get himself killed.”

>The look on Sam’s face

>The stunned, wide-eyed look

>The focus

>Mouth agape, teeth chattering

>He’s not ignoring you

>You know the look on Sam’s face

>It’s the same look your grandpa had when you were young, and you asked him about the war

>Something’s wrong, and Sam is no longer on this Earth

>The car’s not gonna stop

>You start forward, feet touching the road grit, right as Sam – with plenty of time to spare – tosses his body off to the side of the road

>A few seconds later, the car car screams on by, plowing through the delicate pile of flowers that Sam assembled

>Well that was needlessly dramatic

>The rabbit is quick to your side

>He’s breathing hard

>Trembling all over

>His olive-green hoodie is filthy

>He stands before you, head down, shock of brown hair swallowing his tensed feature

“What the hell was that, Sam?” You say “Your dumb ass could have gotten splattered, you know? Are you fucking suicidal or something?!”

>“I-I-” the bunny takes a few steadying breaths, “I c-c-c-couldn’t… c-c-c-couldn’t dodge it like he w-w-w-w-wanted…”

>You open your mouth to chastise the poor kid, but something about what Sam just said stops you

“What- what are you even talking about? Nobody told you to dodge anything, Sam,” you say, distinctly aware of how angry you sound as the words leave your mouth

>But you’re no longer carry that hot coal of anger in your stomach

>You’re just concerned for Sam

>“M-My b-brother and I-” Sam starts

“Your brother? You have a brother? I had no idea, dude! I thought you were an only child.”

>The bunny nods and turns his eyes downward, letting the shag of his hair obscure his eyes

>“Y-Yeah… Hey… C-Ca-Can I tell you ab-about him s-someti-”

>Mike grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you into the road

>You land ass-down on the road grit, nearly toppling onto your back

>“IT DIDN%apos;T WORK!” He screeches, tears rivering out of his glowing eyes

“Maybe it just takes time?” You reason, trying to sit up

>Your ‘friend’ Mike forces you onto your back

“Mike, hold on, just- wait a minute-”

>“I’m stuck like this!” He cries, “for the rest of shitty fucking life!”

>His face tightens into a snarl, jaw set in a hard line as he narrows his red eyes on you

>He grips your shoulders tight, you being his only anchor to reality (and his past, ‘stable’ life)

“Mike! I could have read it wrong, okay? Calm the fuck down a bit,” you stammer, trying to pull his hands off of you

>It’s possible you misinterpreted the actual cure from the Book of Rite

>You needed more time to look, goddammit!

>Mike rushed you!

>“MAYBE?!” Mike parrots, nearly hysterical

>When he talks you can see his fangs. They look like little needles in his mouth

>God, it’s surreal to see such features on humans

>You’re used to it on anthros, but not people

>“Maybe isn’t good enough, you fucking retard!” He shoves you onto your back

>You scowl

>You should just belt him across the jaw when he’s not looking

>FUCK this guy, man

>You try to do nice things for him and he throws them back in your face constantly

>Remember on Friday how he acted like a fucking cock? And then Sunday? And then this morning? And last night? And then he basically ditches you and shows up expecting you to fix his problems!?

>Maybe it was your newfound courage

>Or you just lost your temper

>Or even the flower of your inner cowardice blossoming

>Whatever it was, you tried to force Mike to get off you

“Get the fuck off me, dude!”

>And it feels good when you do see his body flex and shake

>He stumbles, landing on his palms

>“Oh wow,” he smirks, “When did you grow a pair of balls?”

>Mike’s hands tighten up into fists

>“Let’s try that again,” he says, rising to his feet and starting forward. “Because something tells me that’s not the real you – the Anon I know. Deep down you’re still the same old bitch you’ve always been. No curse gonna fix that.”

>Oh shit

>It’s personal now

>For as scrawny as he is, Alex does a somewhat admirable job of trying to hold Mike back from caving in your face

>But he can only restrain Mike for a few seconds

>Good

>You don’t want any easy hits on this faggot

>You start forward

>Alright Anonymous, time to break destroy something precious

>Friendship

>You’re stopped

>Something tugs at your shirt, much to your annoyance

>When you look down, Sam has his little fists knotted in the fabric of your t-shirt

>He’s twisting it hard, knuckles straining to root you in-place

>Through the thick tangles of his unkempt hair, his shimmering amber eyes turn up to look into your own — not through you, or around you in some cunning attempt to evade your attention

>Every muscle in your body comes to a screeching halt

>Your fists open up like the springs to a bear trap, releasing all the pale tension that hate compressed into them

“Why?” Is all you can say

>You want to fucking kill Mike right now

>But Sam?

>Sam look like he’s about to break down in tears

>And though his body vibrates with terror, he holds fast as he says, “I d-d-d-don’t want m-m-my friends t-t-to fi-fight…”

>God damnit, fuck this little cottontail!

>He’s just like Mike, nowhere to be found when the rubber meets the road

>Always forcing you to bail him out

>A burden to you, and to everyone else

>From his first breath…

>…unwanted

>So why can’t you just brush him off like the weak little prey animal that he is, and go knock Mike’s fucking lights out?

>Why can’t you move?

>Just move!

>MOVE, DAMNIT!

>You don’t have to move at all

>Mike does that for you

>A feisty uppercut lodges itself beneath your chin, sending your head up into the clouds

>And even though it’s nearly morning, you swear…

>…that hit unlocked the stars behind the sky

>And you can see each one of them clearer than you’ve ever seen them before, as if they were right in front of your face

>So this is what it feels like to have your lights punched out, huh?

>It’s surreal

>Mike’s jaw-shattering uppercut didn’t even register

>Your feet move backwards, but it’s an unconscious stumble

>Gravity’s call wants you to return to the Earth in a heap

>But you defy that fundamental force of the universe

>Like the flawed human you are, you only taste the rich tang of iron on your tongue

>And you feel the sweat beneath your shirt; rolling in fat waves down your face

>The heat

>And the cortisol

>And that warm blood rush which takes over your head

>You launch yourself at your best friend, swinging as hard as you can, aiming for any part of Mike that you can get your hands on

>Mike dips backwards with nimble evasion, his vampiric agility ever apparent when he ducks underneath one of your wild rights

>Jesus Christ, this is some anime shit

>You’re probably not the Shonen protagonist you think you are

>Fuck it

>Time to use… heh… ‘that’…

>And by ‘that’, you mean you once more hurl your body at Mike, taking him to the ground

>While Mike is fast, not even he could evade such a cunning move like throwing your dumb fucking body at him

>Good job Anonymous, you’ve got him no-

>Mike shoves you easily onto your own back, and the world turns upright in a second

>Well this isn’t good

>You can hear Alex and Sam shouting something, but it’s all muffled and distant

>They might as well be a thousand miles away

>In fact, everything feels and sounds like its a galactic mile from the side of the road where you’re fighting your best friend

>You don’t really feel it when Mike mounts your chest and throws haymakers at your face

>You can feel his fists bounce off your cheek, jaw, nose, skull, shoulder, but it’s all so removed from how it actually feels

>Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion

>You can even see his muscles coil and release with each hateful strike

>So why don’t you fight back?

>All you can do is look up at him, his eyes shining with fury and vampiric rage

>Is it still Mike hurting you?

>The Mike you drank beers with on the school roof?

>Who you did hood rat shit with after school?

>Who you told Gloria to fuck off with for years?

>Is it still him?

>…

>Are you even still you?

>Two hands grab Mike by the shoulders and restrain him

>It’s Alex

>He’s yelling something, barely holding Mike with all of his spindly strength

>You don’t move

>You don’t even think you could move, even if you wanted to

>Sam’s face appears above yours, blocking out the fledgling sunlight

>His mouth moves, and he’s assuredly talking, but you can only focus on his ears

>They droop downwards like his hair, nearly touching your face

>You unconsciously reach up and catch one by the tip

>What are you even doing?

>You’re not sure it even matters

>Mike must have gotten you good in the head

>You stroke Sam’s ear as blood leaks into your mouth from your nose

>A FURIOUS blush rises on the rabbit’s face

>He closes his eyes and tries softly to pull away, saying something about stopping and about being worried about you

>This dumb fucking rabbit might not know it, but he’s your only anchor to reality right now

>Heh

>Figures

>You get in one fight and you pretty much zone out while Mike wails on you

>A smile crosses your bleeding lips

>Somehow, you knew it’d end up like this:

>Bleeding, with your ass thoroughly handed to you

>Fighting Mike…

>…It just felt…

>…human

>The world sharpens as each stuttering heartbeat pounds in your skull, ripping you from the dream and back into reality

>“MIKE! FUCKING CHILL, DUDE!” Alex shouts, still trying to hold Mike back

>“Chill?” Mike says with a sharp, hateful laugh, “why don’t you try to chill out when you’re turning into a vampire because your ‘friend’ can’t do anything right, let alone save himself? My life is fucking OVER, and it’s HIS fault!”

>Mike aims a trembling finger at you like a gun

>Sam’s eyes are huge, like chips of amber the size of your fists

>They’re honestly… kind of beautiful

>You don’t have the strength to fight the gay thoughts right now, so you just let them happen

>Maybe it’s the opiate-haze of getting your ass kicked

>Or maybe it’s the spell put on you by Vanessa fading

>But despite your shattered interpersonal relationships (and nose)…

>…down and out on the side of the road…

>…looking into Sam’s concerned eyes?

>It all feels right

Oliver Hart

Author of Foxing, Leaves of Fall, Liquid Courage, Beating the Heat, A Red Winter, Weber’s Gambit, and many other stories. He primarily writes hmofa, but dabbles in most genres. Interests include, writing, reading, technology, and music.

Stories: Foxing, The Leaves of Fall