Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keeping the human populous in check—not a job for humans. They’re funny little things. I called their race a “spontaneous combustion of unethical paradoxes”. The war was a prime example of that. Everybody, everywhere, working together to help their allies across the globe. And still, millions of lives were lost in the process. Men, women, even children. Our economy was booming again, but at what cost?

The new decade just begun, and already, this country had sunk into the blindness and ear-aching stupidity that would forever stand as a sociocultural mental instability. The American middle class turned itself into the party of “dollhouse-ism”. The worst of social expectations took over the minds of the humans and they just rode with it, resulting in a darkness underlying a sugary surface.

I marched through the grove with my friend and partner Gil-Su. We were thinking the same thing: the 1950s were going to be one creepy decade. I drug proof of that behind me on the ground. The man appeared to be forty years of age, stood at five-foot-eight and weighed at least one-fifty. A fit man, worked well with physical labor. The only problem was the dumbass lacked self control.

He beat his teenage son often. No matter what the mother tried to protect the boy, the end was always the same. The teenager received another scar. Tonight, however, was the last straw. He was going to flat out kill the boy all because of one late bus—something out of his control.

That was my cue. The idiot father began to strangle his son, but I never let him finish the job. I let the father die slowly, just what he deserved. The son and mother stared at me in shock. I just exited the house with the man’s body in possession. Well, I teleported out of there like a channel changing on the television—or as Gil, me, and the rest of our kind called it, I “Glitched”.

A lean, muscled tendril from my back was all that connected me and the corpse of the father. I had six, but needed only one. Being half-human means being able to drag a body that weighs more than yourself easily with just one out of six tendrils. I felt my thick, black blood pump through my tendril into the man’s body. At the house, I’d stabbed him in the heart from behind, and gave him a blood donation.

“You couldn’t have just broken his neck?” Gil asked nonchalantly.

“Yes, do tell me how to hunt and kill my targets, Gil. I’m begging you”

“I’m just saying. Would help to avoid revealing a hint of our species next time.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh please. The mother and son are not going to call the cops—if they haven’t already.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because the cops will never find us. And I was in my Other form, anyway. They may find this asshole, though, if they ever think to look up.”

We stopped across my preferred tree to hang up the body. By “hang up”, I mean impale it on a branch. The Master who created us no doubt was watching us from afar somewhere, making sure we were still doing what he intended us to do. My tastes were pickier than he liked, but it got him to leave us alone.

I cut ties with the Master thirty years ago: 1919. He was a toxic son of a bitch, and not like the rest of us. He wasn’t human at all, but purely … monstrous. Although he didn’t look like much when it came to monsters (very minimalist), he still had the malevolent nature to put him at the top of the food chain.

Even after I left him, he had the gall to keep stalking me and many others, too, Gil being one of those others. He was my brother via bond. His visit today, though, was most peculiar.

He pointed at the old redwood tree. “This is the spot?”

I nodded. “Wait here.”

The other five tendrils emerged from my back. I stabbed another one through the body, and used the other four to climb. Eventually I reached up high enough so that humans passing by didn’t notice in their immediate surroundings. The Master would definitely look up once he came by. I was lucky enough to find a broken branch short enough to reach around, and just long enough for him to fit. I pulled the corpse up and practically slap-stuck him through the branch.

“And to answer your first question …” I called out to Gil before jumping down. My tendrils helped stick the landing. “Would you believe it slipped my mind?” I lied.

He snorted. “Romana, Romana. You’re the Wring Woman of Wine Country! Squeezing necks until they break is your signature method.”

“I also prefer to kill quick and easy. I don’t like struggles.”

“So now you’re lazy, too?”

I laughed and playfully pushed him. “Shut up.”

He balanced himself again, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I know it’s not like you to be lazy.”

“Still, you showed up rather unexpectedly. What brings you to the land of stark white bullshit?”

“Come now, sister. You live in a great place.”

If only he knew. If only he saw what I saw even after I abandoned the Master. Innocent men hung, beaten, burned, even flogged. Kind, smart, and virtuous women whose bodies were train-wrecked. All because they were born with a different skin color. If you weren’t white, you were game. Sure, I was a lame white girl myself, but I knew better.

I understood that people who looked different from me didn’t deserve to be objectified like a bunch of animals. The police did nothing, and the judges were even worse. They were grimly prejudiced. If the humans would do nothing to stand up for each other, then maybe someone else should take up the job. Get rid of those creating the problems.

“It’s only great if you’re a white man,” I disagreed with him. “And I know if it’s you coming over, it’s not something trivial.”

“How right you are.” He paused our walk. Shit, this was serious. “Magnus is calling a meeting in his hometown.”

“Stuttgart? When?”

“Tomorrow night, and Evil Twin Stuttgart. You remember what his place looks like?”

I nodded. I’d been to Stuttgart before. It sure would feel awkward under a different sky color, though. Going to the Evil Twin version would be a new experience. I knew all the Cryptids that ran up and down the US. My knowledge of the monsters in Germany was a bit rusty, to say the least.

If it was the Master calling, I’d have thrown a barrage of questions at Gil. But it was Magnus to my relief. “I’ll be there.”

Gil escorted me home—a little cabin on the hillside—before Glitching back to Seoul. I was glad to see him, but not happy with the news. I bitterly locked the door before settling down in my armchair. I didn’t bother turning on the radio. Eventually, the police would find the missing father— eventually .

I hated lying to Gil, keeping important information from him. How I came upon that family wasn’t a coincidence. I didn’t have the stomach to tell him, though. Mainly because he’d have to report it to Magnus. Or I’d have to. Magnus was the first of us ever created and the head of us when the Master wasn’t around; and we told him everything.

The truth would have to wait. Magnus had called a meeting between the six of us. In Stuttgart—in the Evil Twin. Nobody left the oldest half-human unanswered. It was our job to keep them there. Occasionally, someone or something would break out somewhere on the Good Twin and we’d have to find it and kill it. Letting it run rampant meant it would seek out tasty humans to devour in order to satisfy its bloodlust. Not hunger.

Lucky for us, being half-human and given a more powerful half by the Master made us untouchable to the humans, and some of the monsters. The Master was fully untouchable by all. Magnus, like the rest of us, wasn’t so fortunate.

I pondered into my sleep what Magnus could be calling a meeting for, and so soon. Gil didn’t question very much—especially when it came to the eldest of us—which I found odd. He saved questions for Magnus at meetings. I definitely had questions for him. No doubt I’d have them all answered at the meeting tomorrow night.

Chapter Text

What was so great about visiting the Evil Twin? Nothing. A human would rather take their chances in a third world country if they knew what was good for them. No rest for the wicked. Literally. The humans who lived here were ants compared to those in the Evil Twin: the boots.

I took a trip down memory lane, going over all the Cryptids I encountered over the past forty years give or take. Every Wildman, Black-Eyed Person, seedeater, pocket and many more. My mind wandered to all the terrible humans I shamelessly killed there: serial killers, human traffickers, domestic abusers; psychopaths who manipulated and courted chaos, narcissists spoiled to the marrow, and sociopaths who relished watching everything burn.

We once had a case of “clown statues” in the Evil Twin United States; they turned out to be serial killers who shared a fetish for dead children. I remembered how livid I was when I found them out, and didn’t even breathe when I put an end to their reign of terror. I had the endurance to do what needed to be done, but the case took an emotional toll on me. Just a bit.

I pondered through all these memories and the reputation I built up as the Wring Woman, walking down Corona’s “never ending road”—so the humans called it. The road had an end alright, but they could never spot it correctly. About thirty feet away and closing in, I let loose a tendril and gave the open air a chilling whip crack before withdrawing.

The gateway appeared, opening up like a gash in time and space. It looked like a bloody wound thanks to the red and charcoal that eerily contrasted the blue-greenness of the Good Twin. I walked through the portal as if absolutely nothing exciting happened yesterday.

“You made it, sister.” Gil-Su joked. Funny that he should be the first living being I came into contact with in this cursed realm.

“Oh my dear dolly heart. An escort?” I jabbed back at him.

I heard the portal whoosh close behind me, feeling the emptiness from edge of the cliff. The rest of the road lay out ahead of us.

“I never told you which gate I’d be using,” I hoped he couldn’t hear the hints of curiosity and concern in my voice, “how did you know?”

“Would you believe it was a lucky guess?” He quipped, referring to yesterday. I knew he was lying, though. “Magnus changed the location: Lichtenstein. The city is … under management.”

Code for too dangerous even for us; trust me, you do not want to go there . It wasn’t the first time Stuttgart underwent a pandemonium twice in a month. San Francisco had its own bedlam every now and then, but not as often as Magnus’s home city.

I sighed, but let out a small laugh after. “Ouch. Alright. Let’s get going before a Wildman finds us.”

Gil smiled and held out his elbow. I accepted. We Glitched from the wilderness of my beautiful California to the German mountains, south from the home of our eldest. Night time had come. From the red daylight and charcoal-colored plant life to the blood moon in the starless sky, making the city lights appear to be cowering from their vicious guardian up in the pitch black void.

The two of us hiked up the charcoal hill off the trail where the Cryptids couldn’t follow. Usually. Good Lord, did we hear them all around us. To our surprise, the walk up to the castle went smoothly.

We spotted Magnus ahead, waiting for us on a balcony. Lichtenstein would have appeared similar to a Brothers’ Grimm fairytale castle were it not for this eldritch atmosphere. It looked like the devil’s domain under the blackout above.

Gil and I heard labored snarling in the distance behind us. We turned around, eyeing a Nachzehrer . Dreadful, godforsaken, vampiric things. It’s protruding rib cage and rotting apricot skin were just barely visible from our distance. It lifted its head and let out an ugly screech—like a bat and a dying pig combined. The primitive vampire stopped running, staring intently at us.

It’s famished, I observed. I transported a tendril into the ground; Gil followed suit.

Cryptids never came this close to an historical landmark; a first. Gil and I didn’t wait another second. Our tendrils shot up from the ground on either side of the creature and sliced straight through its neck. The monster collapsed. We retracted our tendrils, and continued onward to Magnus.

He greeted us each with a hug. “Thank you for that by the way,” referring to the Nachzehrer, “they’re getting worse.”

“Starvation?” I offered.

Magnus shook his head. “Something else … I’ll explain everything inside.”

He put a hand each on our shoulders and we Glitched inside. The room he took us to looked like a private dining room or meeting room. Wooden furniture, beautiful paintings (they still stood, but were ripped up thanks to past invasive Cryptids), and a chandelier decorated with antlers. Admittedly, the castle was more stunning in the Good Twin.

Our other three family members had arrived before us: Omolara, Luisa Fernandez, and Binda Seeley. We briefly but warmly welcomed each other and sat down at the table, which conveniently had six chairs.

“My brothers and sisters of the Hexagon, thank you for coming.”

Chapter Text

“My brothers and sisters of the Hexagon, thank you for coming. I would not have reached out to you on such short notice if it was not an emergency.”

I had never heard the word “emergency” spoken by Magnus before—Binda and myself. The others, maybe. 

“I apologize for changing the location so quickly. The riot in Stuttgart was rather unexpected. However, I’ve recently found something new in our midst. And this is not to be taken lightly.”

Magnus pulled from his jacket pocket something black and sticky. I thought it would turn out to be a string dipped in tar. Or belonging to some poor bird unwillingly swimming somewhere near one of the pits.

The black, sticky feather splotched on the table before Magnus. An eardrum crunching whoosh and the cackle of sparks woke us up. The feather levitated off the table. It stayed at face level for a moment, then burnt up in midair. It turned into a pile of ashes in the center.

Of all things.

No one said a word. We couldn’t. We knew what that stupid, plucked or shed, little feather implied. The air grew thin around us.

Before Binda joined the group, Luisa, Gil, Omolara, and Magnus helped me with everything the Master taught us individually. We were our own study group, that one party of people the forces of nature couldn’t separate.

It annoyed the living shit out of the Master—something I considered an accomplishment. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it and he knew it. The Faceless had no law against assembly.

Though we were half human and half of the Master, we were all still Earthlings. Pain of all kind was inevitable, and we would most likely get killed by these people.

The gods did not like being bothered about any trivial matters. They either ignored us, or would incur their wrath for simply crossing paths with them due to unlucky circumstances. Even if they killed us without provocation, we were forever out of favor with them. No god or other Celestial was worth the risk.

The Celestials could easily kill us from afar—if we angered them that badly. They possessed hands that could demolish entire civilisations; that had strangled opponents to death within their powerful frames. Gods and Angels (fallen or not), and the humans were not for them. Nor were we. Therefore, the five of us passed on our knowledge to Binda—in a better manner than our freak creator.

The Master didn’t instill the fear of God into us, but all gods and anything similar to them. He loathed them. That hateful  attitude for them had consumed his entire being; thus, he constantly informed us to do the same if we wanted to survive.

“I understand what you’re all thinking,” Magnus broke our terrorized trance, “I wouldn’t have called this meeting otherwise.”

“You’re suggesting … they have found us? Found the Evil Twin?” Binda asked, a twinge of fright sprinkling his voice. “Wouldn’t there have to be a significant change or signal for everyone to see?”

“Yes … and no.” Yes to the significant change, no because we were not everybody. “As for that ‘signal’, I did some research and found a most uncanny phenomenon in Stuttgart.”

He injected a tendril into the table. We watched a model of an inky black Stuttgart come to life, fitting the table perfectly. The typical two riots per month played out as normal. What struck me as odd was…

“Magnus, which bimonthly riots are we seeing right now?”

“… December, January, and February. All within this winter.” Holy fuck.

“ This winter?!” Omolara asked astonished. “Three consecutive months of…”

Magnus’s tendril squirmed— “That’s not all,” —the setting of the city shifted, revealing the woods, fields, and other surrounding wildlife.

A number of Cryptids weaved themselves among the city residents: killing and attacking, wreaking havoc on the city. Many others were fleeing their habitats, some heading straight for this castle.

Pop, went a Rake. Two. Three. A model of Magnus walked into view, throwing out his tendrils and killing any dangerous Cryptids that charged at him.

This time, all six of us took another silent moment to gather inner ourselves. It became clear what Magnus was really trying to tell us.

Chapter Text

We pondered in silence trying to contemplate what we just watched. What looked like a deformed person with sizable wings picked up a Rake, and popped its head off like a yellow dandelion weed.

“What was that creature going to do with the Rake?” I asked, still not fully comprehending the situation that played out. Magnus furrowed his brow.

“Why do you ask, Schwester?”

“Didn’t you see? That thing almost brought its neck stump closer to his face. Maybe his mouth.” I didn’t even know if that flying thing was a he or she, or what other pronouns to use to address it properly.

“Yes, that seemed grotesque.” Omolara chimed in. “As if the creature was going to…”

“Drink the Rake’s blood right out of its neck.” Luisa finished.

“Like a coffee mug.” Binda commented.

Gil-Su stayed quiet. I could tell. He wasn’t the most readable person, more so than Magnus, but not for any malicious reasons. The gears were simply turning in his head. Moderating the largest continent on Earth came with a significant amount of pressure and aging of the mind. It couldn’t be, he whispered so softly, I almost didn’t pick it up. “Haven’t we prepared for something like this? Unknown invaders falling to Earth? The Master made sure we’d be ready.”

“For Angels.” I blurted out, not entirely sure why. “Angels have come to Earth. That’s what you wanted to show us. Right, Magnus? That the time has come?”

Silence.

Not because it sounded stupid. The Master held a vehement hatred for anything non-Earth. He trained us, beat us and terrorized us into being ready. “Celestials are bad” were the nails balanced on our heads; the Master simply hammered them into our brains. Torment after tortuous course, we were ready to face any god-level threats that would befall our planet.

“Angels. Here, on the globe.” Binda stated. “But if the threat is real, and it’s here already, then what should be our next move?”

“The Evil Twin would go ballistic should they find it.” Omolara added.

“And the Superior would have an excuse to use the Hive Mind. Again.”

Emphasis on “again”. It wouldn’t have been the first time the Superior, who ran the Evil Twin, called on his trusty atomic-level annihilator for the nth time. The last time he used the Hive Mind was not that long ago.

“If there are more of those avian creatures, we can’t risk them getting into the Evil Twin.” Luisa contributed. “It’s bad enough they’ve made it to this side of the gate.”

“Then we seal it off.” I offered. “No one there gets in or out. Only way in or out is via the Faceless. If anyone in the Evil Twin sane enough wants to come visit the other side, they do it with our supervision, or no deal.”

“Lockdown Hell on Earth?” Omolara asks. “Ana, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

I shrugged and shook my head. No, I didn’t think it would have impressed Einstein or President Truman. “I’m sorry, but until we know if it really is Angels we’re dealing with, and whether or not they have any malicious intent, I don’t think it would be wise to leave the gates open. If the one we just saw, or any others like it, discover the Evil Twin…”

“Then who knows what might happen.” Gil-Su helped. “And there are a great many things that could go wrong should they learn of the existence of the other side. I agree with Ana. We close the gates until further notice. That further notice being: we know exactly what species this is and what they intend to do.”

“Then we close the gates.” Luisa agreed.

“Amen.” Omolara stated.

Binda didn’t need to voice his agreement; he simply nodded.

It was unanimous.Magnus gestured for us to stand. “We halt all access to the Evil Twin. No one in or out unless accompanied by one of us or another Faceless. Spread word throughout your respective continents. I’ll contact the Master and let him know everything. Until we know what we’re dealing with, Hell on Earth is closed.”

~Meanwhile in America~

Rain began to fall the moment the last shop closed up for the night. The shopkeeper stuffed his keys in his coat pocket, adjusted his hat, and walked briskly down the street. The streets… These streets that he knew for so long, had grown eerily quiet.

Not many people came out at night anymore; not since the disappearances had become more frequent in the past week. The people of this town had not had a scare like this since Pearl Harbor. 

Same effect, different cause. New decade.

It started out with one person: one local kid: a drum major in his high school marching band. He was going to graduate this semester, move north, attend the Santa Rosa Junior College, and earn his degree in mathematics. Now he had been plucked off the face of the earth.

That was President’s Day. It escalated after him; a teacher, a newly-wed couple, another family, the pastor. A cop. The townsfolk were regressing to a state of numbness.

Those who disappeared left no trace behind, leaving no leads or clues for the cops. No leads meant no direction. All they knew was that somebody who was here today would clock out tonight.

These thoughts were interrupted by a loud metal clang— the shopkeeper stopped abruptly. Caught mid-step, he set his foot down behind him. He looked in all directions around him. He stepped out into the carless street, did the same thing; he even looked up, using his hat as a shield.

Did something fall from one of the buildings? A street sign? All the street lamps looked normal— Screeeech!

On instinct, the shopkeeper ducked and bolted from the street onto the steps of another shop. He didn’t care which. Getting as close as you could to your nearest shelter was better than being exposed in the middle of a surface street.

Trying to slow his breathing and pulling on his coat, he took out his keys and weaved them between his fingers. They weren't pocket knives, but they were better than nothing. If anything so much as moved a centimeter, at least he would be able to—

His abrupt scream cut off as soon as it escaped his pipes. In that instant of liftoff… he knew nothing anymore. Not even where he was going.