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Chapter Text

The Serpent's Curse

Part One

It was Nice While it Lasted

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The streets of Manhattan were littered with human and animal viscera scattered carelessly across the hot black pavement. Screams of terror echoed throughout the city. Nobody was safe, for there was only one objective for his beloved creatures to remember.

Kill.

Despite what others have said, he did not start this war for power. It was not that simple. He was not interested in a dictatorship, despite the fact that he was currently sitting on a throne made of human bones hastily thrown together from the cemetery nearby. 

A bit overdramatic, if anyone asked him, but he was advised to make an image for himself that was as gruesome as possible, and someone had suggested bones, so here he was. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly loud shout. He looked up and watched as his creatures brought forward a decrepit old man. 

Kur regarded the man before him. His chest tightened with a sick feeling of hatred—he didn’t understand why, but the feeling scared him. But he couldn’t give in to his fears now—if he did, he would never be able to keep going, and this needed to be done. 

The man cried out, crumpling to the ground as he burst into a fit of tears. Kur felt his stomach twist, his heart skipping a beat. A sneer spread across his face as he tried to ignore the voices screaming in his head, begging him to stop.

"I don't want to die! Please!"

There was a part of him that almost wanted to take pity on the old man. 

This wasn’t who he was. 

But in that moment, he could not afford to show mercy. 

“Neither do we.”

He spoke for not only himself, but for all of those whose blood had been needlessly shed. 

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Zak jolted awake, letting out a sharp gasp as his body ached with adrenaline.

‘What the fuck was that?’

He shivered, his body already begging him to go back to sleep. Zak wanted to give in, but he was scared that the nightmares would resume, so he begrudgingly forced himself out of bed to start getting ready for the day. 

He looked at the clock on his nightstand. 

6:02 AM

He probably could have gone back to sleep for another four hours before his parents would even feel the need to poke their heads in his bedroom, as they had no outstanding missions at the moment. Ever since the end of the war Argost had unleashed on the world five years ago, cryptid activity had greatly reduced. There were less sightings of cryptids these days—almost as if they were in hiding. 

The Saturdays almost had time to be bored.  

Almost. 

Zak stretched his arms over his head with a groan, before approaching his desk chair, where the clothes he had picked out the night before were sitting, waiting for him to start the day.  

He regarded the orange Saturday varsity jacket sitting atop the rest of his clothes with pride—it was a simple orange jacket with black sleeves and an S patch he had sewn to the right side of the jacket’s front, but the memories tied to it always made him smile. 

It was a souvenir from a thrift store in Manchester. At fifteen, he had finally been allowed to wander on his own while his parents and siblings rested on the airship. Before that trip, he would have to be accompanied by Fisk, if not at least one of his parents. 

Between the Secret Scientists, nagas, and Argost all out for him, it hadn’t been safe to be alone.

But since they had won the cryptid war and Zak had lost his Kur powers, things were safer now. Nobody was after them— him —and he was allowed his freedom. 

At least, after a few years. It had taken his parents a little while longer to relax their grip on him…which was honestly understandable, considering the secrets Zak had to keep from them while they were on the run. It would be hard for anyone to trust their kid alone after watching them willingly go into the airship of a psychotic supervillain. 

For him, the jacket was a token of him gaining independence. Even three years later, he still wore it regularly (as he had never grown past 5’4). 

The last thing he put on was his hearing aids, which were sitting on his desk. 

After being blasted with the Flute of Gilgamesh three separate times, Zak had lost a good portion of his hearing. His dad had hypothesized it was due to how loud the music had been played when Argost nearly killed him. His mother said it could have also been a lingering effect of the damage the magic of the flute had done to his spirit, and for a while fretted over whether or not that was the only permanent injury. 

Regardless, Zak needed hearing aids, and he was good about not forgetting to put them on or losing them. 

After Zak was dressed and groomed for the morning, he went to the kitchen, where he knew his mother would most likely already be far too composed for such an early hour and sipping at a cup of tea.

But then, to his surprise, it was his father who was up first. 

He looked up from his phone at the sounds of Zak’s footsteps entering the room. 

“Zak? You’re up early. Everything alright?”

Zak shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of the nightmare that had startled him awake. “Ah, yeah. Just couldn't fall back asleep.”

Zak saw that there was a pot of coffee already brewed on the countertop, so he grabbed a cup and silently poured himself a drink. He left enough room for a generous amount of sugar and cream, and took a long sip, savoring the warm beverage. 

Like his mother, Zak generally didn’t drink coffee, instead sticking to tea, or sometimes hot cocoa on good days. He didn’t mind the taste of coffee, but drinking it sometimes made him feel jittery and easily startled, so he had to limit how much he drank. A small amount was enough to wake him up on days like today. 

“So, where’s Mom?” Zak asked. “Isn’t she usually up by now?”

“Your mother had a bit of a rough night, so she’s sleeping in.”

“Aw jeez, that—“

He was interrupted by a pair of footsteps and muffled music. Fisk entered the kitchen wearing a pair of headphones.

“Hey Fisk,” he greeted, before squinting—those headphones looked a little too familiar. “Wait a sec, are those my headphones? I’ve been looking for those!”

Fisk stuck his tongue out, before turning up the music on the old MP3 player he had inherited from Zak and jumping up onto the bars hanging from the ceiling. He crossed his arms as he hung upside down and closed his eyes. 

“What was that about?” his father asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Despite his annoyance at the situation, Zak couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I, uh. Think he’s still mad at me.”

“For what?”

“Well, I may have told him last night that he smells like wet dog.”

Dad chuckled—a genuine, warm laugh that was always contagious, and caused Zak to smile. 

“Well, that wasn’t nice.”

“Yeah, I know! But it’s not like I was trying to hurt his feelings, I just blurted it out! Besides, I don’t shun you and Mom when you guys tell me to go take a shower. Plus I definitely did not lend him those headphones.”

“Didn’t I install bluetooth in your hearing aids?”

“Well yeah, but he’s still a petty little jerk!”

“Hm…” Dad thought for a moment. “I bet you could bribe him for his forgiveness if you made pancakes.”

Zak smirked. 

“Wanna help?”

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Dad’s prediction was correct; at the smell of pancakes, Fisk had come down, and by the time they were done eating breakfast, he was ready to forgive Zak. Mom arose shortly after, and Zak handed her a plate of pancakes and an extra strong cup of chai tea.

After they were done eating, Zak decided he wanted to go out. 

The family had finally finished rebuilding their home in Washington last fall—almost a year ago. The closest city to their house was Port Townsend, a small city by the beach. He had been meaning to go explore on his own since his parents gifted him his own small jet plane for his eighteenth birthday, but simply hadn’t made the time yet. 

Today seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

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While he was exploring the town, he discovered a quaint park that was close enough to the beach that he could see the water through the trees.

It was amusing to him that after so many years traveling the world, he still found himself speechless at small things that he considered beautiful—walking through the forest by his house, calm moments with his family, watching the world so tiny beneath his feet through the windows of the airship. 

Little things like this reminded him of what it meant to be alive. He was deeply intimate with the concept of death, having almost died once already, and he had learned to be truly grateful that he had survived. 

Zak felt a deep serenity as he walked through the park, trying to take everything in. The cool misty breeze, the smell of the sea, the deep green grass and colorful flowers that bordered the sidewalk he walked on. The plants were still so healthy even at this time of year. 

The beach behind the gate that Zak approached nearly took his breath away. It was a deep shade of blue with sparkles that seemed to dance under the sun. 

He stepped away from the gate and started walking. Zak didn’t know what he was looking for, but his heart told him to keep going.  

After a few minutes of walking while deep in thought, he spotted an empty water bottle. 

He knelt and picked it up, before looking around.  

There were some bins next to a bench several feet back. From where he stood, he noticed a guy who looked close to his age sitting on the bench with a sketchbook. The man was wearing a blue jean jacket with colorful buttons pinned to the front. His long dark locs were tied back in a loose ponytail, and the tips of his hair were dyed turquoise.   

As Zak made his way back to the recycling bin, he took care not to make eye contact, as his heart raced at the thought of talking to someone his age. 

Besides Wadi, who lived on the opposite side of the planet, and Ulraj, who not only lived at the bottom of the ocean, but wasn’t even human, Zak didn’t talk to people his own age. On missions, he was able to maintain a sense of professionalism when he encountered civilians, but any other time he found himself feeling painfully aware of the disconnect between himself and the rest of the world. The chances of encountering a person on the street who understood the brutality of war and the hardships of being on the run were slim to none.

But after depositing the bottle into the recycling bin, he couldn’t help but notice the contents of the sketchbook that this guy was drawing in. 

Wasn’t that Nessie?

Zak stood on the tips of his toes from behind the bench, letting his curiosity get the better of him. 

On the current page in the sketchbook, there were sketches of cryptids that Zak recognized both from years on the job and studying at home. 

To Zak’s surprise, they weren’t drawn as terrifying monsters—in fact, the sketches looked pretty cute. Even the sketches of the Owlman, which Zak still remembered in his nightmares every now and then from the time he had been brought to its nest to be eaten, made Zak smile. 

Suddenly, the boy’s left hand stopped moving. He turned his head and looked directly up at Zak with inquisitive brown eyes.

He was caught. 

Zak’s heart stopped.

“Um—” Zak’s face was practically on fire. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare, I just—I just couldn’t help but notice you were drawing cryptids? And I uh—I think your drawings are cute. Especially Nessie.”

The man stared at him for a few moments. Breathing suddenly seemed impossible, the air scraping painfully against Zak’s lungs. 

But then the man smiled at him and said, “Thanks.”

His voice was warm and it seemed to sand off some of the sharp edges of Zak’s anxiety. 

“Uh-huh. Anyways, I’ll let you get back to—”

“Do you want to see more stuff? I’ve got a sketchbook full of cryptid drawings.”

Oh?

Zak felt his brain short circuit, curiosity warring with his fear. His feet seemed to carry him around to the front of the bench before his mind could remind him of why exactly this was such a bad idea. Suddenly he was sitting down next to a stranger, trying not to think about how this somehow felt both so weird and so normal. 

This guy didn’t know him, didn’t know the chaos Zak had unleashed onto the world just seven years ago. 

Were those cryptids drawn from real life experiences? Real life experiences that Zak had caused?

He forced himself to smile, trying desperately to calm the anxious thoughts swirling in his head. That part of his life was over.

“Yeah, show me. Um—by the way, I’m Zak.”

“Kyron,” he said with a smile. 

Kyron started showing Zak his sketches. They ranged from cute doodles to fully rendered pieces with colored pencil. 

But there was one piece in particular that made Zak’s breath stick in his throat. 

There was no mistaking it—even though the picture had been drawn in more of a cartoon-like style, there was absolutely no mistaking his own resemblance in the picture. 

He recognized exactly where the drawing had been inspired from—after the nagas had tried to declare war on the human race, Zak had seen footage of him recorded on TV trying to stop the cryptids. Many people online speculated that he had been the one to unleash the nagas—and even though most of the evidence had eventually been “mysteriously” wiped from the internet, he still occasionally saw people talk about that day, about him. 

It freaked him out, and he didn’t know how to respond now to seeing his likeness drawn holding back an army of snake people. 

“I still think about this guy,” Kyron said with a thoughtful smile. “Do you recognize him?” 

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Zak said, fighting to keep his voice even. 

“I know the news speculated that he was the one who started that whole mess, but I studied all the videos captured before they were taken down. I think he was trying to save people.”

‘Trying is the key word,’ Zak thought mournfully, remembering the aftermath of that chaos. He knew a few people had died in that mess. His parents had tried to keep it from him, but a few years after losing his powers, he had come across an article talking about someone who had died in the mess. 

Zak never told his parents that he knew. 

Kyron flipped to the next page, and to his shock, Zak saw his brother Fisk. Some details were off, like the color of his eyes—instead of a deep cherry red, they were a sharp golden color—but his likeness was undeniable. 

“He’s pretty cute, right?”

Zak chuckled, giving Kyron a small smile. “Yeah, he is.”

Fisk would probably be offended if he overheard Zak agreeing with the concept that he was cute, but it was nice seeing someone that wasn’t his parents or uncle understand that he wasn’t just a “monster”.

Suddenly, Zak’s phone started ringing. He grimaced, before pulling it out. His mother was calling him.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” Zak said before answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hey kiddo, we’ve been called in for a mission. Sorry—when can you get back home? We need to leave ASAP.”

“Oh! Uh, I’ll be home in like fifteen minutes. See you soon.”

“ Okay. Love you, honey! ”

“Love you too.”

Zak hung up the phone and looked back at Kyron, who was looking at him with interest. 

“Gotta go?”

“Ah, yeah,” Zak sighed. “Um, but hey, if you’re interested, maybe we could exchange numbers? You uh, you seem cool and I’d love to see more of your drawings sometime—I even have some crappy doodles I can show you.”

He could feel his face flush hot once more. He wasn’t sure why he was blushing—this was how people made friends, right? There was nothing weird about asking someone who “seemed cool” for their phone number.

Kyron smiled. He pulled out his phone and handed it to Zak. 

“Sounds fun.”

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Chapter Text

Zak sprinted back to his jet, fueled by a strange sense of adrenaline reverberating through him. He told himself it was the mission that fueled his urgency. 

But he couldn’t help his frazzled brain as he replayed the interaction they’d had in his head. 

Zak didn’t have a lot of opportunities to talk to people his own age. There was Wadi and Ulraj, but he rarely saw them these days. And in those few moments when he had to talk to civilians that seemed around his age, he always felt so disconnected—somehow feeling weirdly too old for them and out of touch. 

Oftentimes it seemed like they could sense that too, and it intimidated Zak. 

Talking to Kyron had felt different. There was an instant warmth that Zak latched on to—something he really didn’t see outside his own family. 

Kyron’s openness to talking to Zak—to showing him his art—it was new. 

It was nice. 

Plus, this guy liked cryptids. Cryptids were such a big part of his life, and Kyron embraced them as beautiful creatures in his art. He made cool art.

Not only that—he had actually drawn him? Which, was admittedly a little weird, but also, he saw it in a completely different light than Zak had all these years. 

Kyron had drawn from a memory that Zak had nightmares about. 

But he hadn’t seen Zak as a monster—he saw him as someone trying to help.  

Zak had never truly gotten over what had happened that day. The nagas hurt so many people, and had even tried to kill his parents , because of him. Because Zak was Kur. 

The nagas wanted to kill just because Zak existed.

His parents told him that what happened that day wasn’t his fault, but Zak had never believed it himself. Even after five years without his powers, Zak still felt like he was running from a darker version of himself. 

He didn’t feel like the “good” person Mom and Dad had raised him to be—he felt like a monster hiding in a man’s body. 

But Kyron didn’t see him like that. 

Well, he definitely didn’t see him like that, because he didn’t know the kid in his sketchbook and the guy he was talking to on the bench were the same person. 

But also—Kyron was just interesting. He didn’t know him well, but he could make assumptions. He knew that Kyron believed he was capable of being good, and he knew that he liked cryptids. 

His art was beautiful. 

Also, his hair was cool. 

That last thought seemed irrelevant, but Zak wasn’t denying it. His hair was cool. 

And the best part was that he didn’t see the cryptids in his art as terrifying monsters. He thought they were cute. 

This was such a rare thing. 

Most people he came across were terrified of cryptids. They claimed that the cryptids—the so-called “monsters”—were dangerous. 

So then why was it that Zak and his family were almost always the ones saving cryptids? 

If anyone asked Zak, it was the humans that were more dangerous. 

He was only eighteen years old, but he had already become weary of saving cryptids from the humans that didn’t care to understand them. 

In fact, that was how they had met Fisk, his own brother. People tried to burn him alive in his own tree. 

But Kyron didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt cryptids. 

Kyron still hadn’t texted him. 

Zak didn’t actually have his number yet so all he could do was wait and hope he hadn’t just deleted Zak’s number the second he’d turned away.

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Their mission was to study a group of ahools recently sighted in the Java rainforest. They were a rare cryptid to come across—there was still very little known about them, other than the fact that there were only certain conditions where they came out to mate, and the Saturdays wanted to study them to figure out how to predict those cycles. 

Ahools were small primates with large bat wings for arms. Legends had made them out to be giant, man-eating beasts, but the actual creatures before them were far from that. 

The Saturdays were currently hiding in the bushes in the forest, watching the flock of ahools interacting near a river. 

“They’re so little ,” Zak cooed, wishing he could get closer. 

The closest one was only about a foot tall, and she was nibbling on a piece of Java plum. Her big eyes were closed in bliss as she enjoyed her meal. 

The one thing Zak missed about his Kur powers was the deep, intimate connection to cryptids. It was harder to earn the trust of cryptids without his powers, and there were times like now he wished he could just approach them and say “hey, I’m a friend!” 

It had taken him years to learn how to help cryptids the way his parents had already known since before he was born. 

Before, his cryptid powers were usually the only icebreaker he needed to connect with them. He felt what they were feeling, understood their thoughts, all through making eye contact and opening his heart to the cryptid he was trying to bond with. 

But things didn’t work like that anymore. 

He’d had to learn to be patient, and how to detect certain body languages he never really had the need to focus on before. 

It was more difficult to earn the trust of cryptids without his powers, and it was a hard lesson to learn that he couldn’t interact directly with every single cryptid he saw. 

But the Saturdays made do without his powers. 

He had learned to appreciate cryptids like ahools from afar. 

This in particular was simply a study mission, and none of them wanted to risk scaring the ahools off. 

Still…

“I really wish I could hug one,” Zak said mournfully. 

His mother chuckled, ruffling his hair. “They are pretty cute.”

“They are,” his father agreed. “But you know we can’t risk scaring them off, Zak.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Zak sighed. “I will just send them my love from afar.”

There was a buzz in his pocket. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

He looked between his parents, who were busy taking notes, and Fisk and Komodo, who were napping peacefully behind them, before pulling his phone out. 

Unknown number, 12:16PM: [attachment]

Attached to the text message was a doodle of Zak and Nessie. Nessie had been drawn as a chibi and much smaller than her actual size, only being about twice the size of Zak. In the doodle, Zak was holding Nessie’s head, his forehead pressed against hers with hearts surrounding them both. Zak’s proportions were slightly more realistic, but the art style was far from photographic. 

To Zak’s surprise, the art had even captured his hearing aids. 

Zak smiled. 

Zak, 12:19PM: Awwww she’s so cute

Zak, 12:19PM: I love that you drew my hearing aids too :) 

Kyron, 12:20PM: Glad you like it. ;) 

Zak felt himself get flustered. He couldn’t explain why, but the simple winking emoji left him feeling like he had to come up with something clever. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

He spent a few minutes wracking his brain before, 

Kyron, 12:27PM: Also I saw the little mothman charms. They’re cute. 

“Zak, look,” his mother said, placing a hand on his shoulder, nearly startling him. “One of them just offered the other a flower.”

Zak looked up from his phone. “Oh, sorry.” 

He watched the ahool with the plum accept the flower, before she offered her fruit to the larger ahool. 

“Interesting—it looks like they’re both female,” Dad observed. 

“Cute,” Zak said. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in watching them anymore—because yeah that was pretty cute—but texting Kyron just seemed a bit more pressing. The ahools weren’t going anywhere, as long as they were all quiet. 

Zak waited for his parents to go back to their note taking before resuming his texting. 

Zak, 12:34PM: Thanks. I’ve been wanting to get my ears pierced, but I haven’t found a place yet and my uncle says I shouldn’t do it myself. 

Zak, 12:35PM: He says he did with one of his piercings when he was young and they closed up a year later, just because he had his earrings out for a week. 

Zak, 12:35PM: Hearing aid charms are the next best thing I guess. 

Kyron, 12:36PM: OUCH. Yea dont do it yourself

Kyron, 12:36PM: I work at a tattoo parlor if you want me to do your ears 

Zak was about to respond when something landed on his head. In the reflection of his phone, he saw a small, white furry chest and talons in his hair. 

“Zak!” his mother whispered excitedly. 

“Let me get some pictures,” his dad added. 

“Here, I got it,” Zak said. 

He opened his camera app and smiled, raising two fingers into a peace sign before taking a few selfies. 

Part of him wished he could send the pictures, but he knew why he couldn’t. 

It was quite literally illegal and they had only just started texting. 

But also, Zak just wasn’t ready for Kyron to know about this side of his life. He just wanted to maintain a sense of normalcy for now. Wait until they were more comfortable with each other before he started talking about his strictly secret government job. 

The ahool looked down at the phone in Zak’s hands with large, curious green eyes, cooing softly. 

“Hey girl,” Zak said, putting his phone back in his pocket before holding up a finger to the ahool. 

The ahool took it in her taloned hands, holding it gently. 

Zak chuckled lightly, his heart swelling with adoration. 

The ahool stayed perched on Zak’s head as they continued to study the others. Zak wanted to send just one more text to Kyron, but he figured he should actually get some real work done. 

After about half an hour, the ahool on Zak’s head finally left, and Zak excused himself, telling his parents he just needed to stretch his legs. They had been crouched in the bushes for a while already.

Zak finally pulled out his phone again, quickly responding, 

Zak, 1:03PM: Sorry, got distracted with work. But that would be great! 

Zak, 1:03PM: I’m gonna be a little busy these next few weeks but I’ll let you know when I’m free for that. :) 

The speed at which Kyron responded took him by surprise. 

Kyron, 1:04PM: Sweet :) looking forward to it 

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They started texting regularly. 

Zak tried not to make it obvious around his family. Although he wasn’t proud of it, he had learned to be a little too sneaky over the years when he’d had to lie to his parents about Argost while they were on the run. 

But still, there were times he found himself just a little too tempted to check his phone. 

His most recent incident resulted in a burnt bagel. He had popped it into the toaster twice to get it just a little extra crispy, but then forgot about it while he was texting Kyron. 

Zak didn’t notice until the smell hit him. 

Of course his parents noticed, teasing him relentlessly because the kitchen smelled like burnt bagel for the rest of the evening. 

He insisted that he actually wanted the bagel to be burnt like that. That it definitely tasted better that way

They saw right through that lie, even going so far as to make him begrudgingly eat the bagel in front of them but they didn’t ask why he’d forgotten to take it out sooner so he decided to take it as a win. 

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Kyron, 12:23PM: [attachment]

[the image attached is a tattoo on dark skin—a woman sits with her back to the camera, looking over her shoulder coyly. Soft blue clouds fill in the afro of her hair, with a myriad of bright crescent moons tracing out the details.]

Zak, 12:24PM: Sick! I love that!  

Zak, 12:24PM: Did u ink it?

Kyron, 12:26PM: Yep. My own design, too. :)

Zak, 12:28PM: That’s really cool. Your art is way cooler than mine haha

Zak, 12:28PM: I’m still learning the basics 

Kyron, 12:29PM: Ooooo can i see? 

Zak, 12:34PM: [attachment]

[image attached is a rough sketch of Fiskerton hanging upside down from the ceiling. The sketch is drawn in black ink with a ballpoint pen, and the art looks inspired by a vintage comic book art style. The lines are faded in some areas where the initial shapes of the drawing started, while the outlines of Fisk are thicker and darker, like he’d gone over them over and over to get the shape right. There’s also a piece of sticky note paper over his chest, showing his arms which are crossed over his chest.]

Kyron, 12:37PM: Not bad! I like it. Cool pose. Did you use reference pics?

Zak, 12:40PM: You could say that, yea

Zak, 12:41PM: I uh, try to draw from real life, but this is just made from some references I scraped together between the internet and my own brother who was nice enough to pose from me 

Kyron, 12:42PM: Nice, your brother sounds like a cool dude

Zak, 12:42PM: yeahhh I love him lol

Kyron, 12:50PM: That’s really nice. I had foster brothers and sisters growing up but we don’t really keep in contact now. Kinda had a rough departure from my last foster parents. 

Zak, 12:53PM: Oh, shit. Sorry about that. 

Kyron, 12:54PM: Eh, what harm can a little childhood trauma do lol

Zak, 12:54PM: MOOOOOOD

Kyron, 12:55PM: Noooo you too??

Zak, 1:01PM: haha 

Zak, 1o2PM: it’s fine now 

Zak, 102PM: it makes me more interesting :,) 

Kyron, 103PM: Pfffft 

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Kyron, 9:00PM: did you watch Weird World when that was still a thing?

Zak, 9:24PM: yeah but I heard he’s problematic

Kyron, 9:25PM: oh?? 

Zak, 9:25PM: I mean he was kinda insane 

Zak, 9:26PM: I don’t know this relative very well anymore but he used to be friends with Argost and he said he was just not great 

Kyron, 9:27PM: Daaaamn 

Kyron, 9:27PM: idk if you saw the footage of him in his last days but I’ve seen spooky stuff from the news and internet before it all got taken down. I don’t know a whole lot though because it became so hush-hush. It’s weird how people wanna stay quiet about the “monster” outbreak from 5 years ago. Like??? Hello??? 

Zak, 9:36PM: I guess it’s because they want to keep everyone safe?

Kyron, 9:40PM: wym

Zak, 9:45PM: People are just kinda spooked by what they don’t know and they could panic and cause more harm than they mean to. 

Zak, 9:45PM: that’s what I assume anyways 

Kyron, 9:46PM: I guess that’s fair 

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Zak, 10:02AM: eepy

Kyron, 10:05AM: lol

Zak, 10:08AM: yeah we just got home from Brazil and I am BEAT. I mean I slept the whole flight back but ya know…eepy. 

Kyron, 10:09AM: What were u doing in Brazil? :0

Zak, 10:10AM: Science. I’m a scientist. :>

Kyron, 10:11AM: Yo that’s sick 

Kyron, 10:11AM: what kind of science??

Zak, 10:13AM: Animal biology 

Kyron, 10:14AM: Oh that makes sense. Since you like cryptids. 

Kyron, 10:14AM: Wait how old are you?? You seemed kinda young when we met. Too young to have a degree already

Zak, 10:16AM: 18 but I’m homeschooled and my parents are also scientists. They taught me everything I know 

Zak, 10:17AM: Also i’m just short lmao

Kyron, 10:18AM: haha 

Kyron, 10:18AM: okay yeah you seemed around 18-19 

Kyron, 10:19AM That’s really cool!! 

Zak, 10:24AM: Thanks! Can I ask how old you are?

Kyron, 10:26AM: 20. I am also baby, according to my boss. 

Zak, 10:27AM: Real 

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“Has anyone seen my phone?” 

Zak huffed in frustration. He had been looking for his phone all morning—searching his room, between the cushions on the couch, even in the bathroom—to no avail. 

He was currently in the kitchen, searching the fridge. 

“You really think you’re going to find it in the fridge, honey?” his mom asked with a smirk, looking up from her notes on the kitchen table. 

“Nah, I’m just hungry.”

Zak pulled out the half eaten sandwich he had been saving from the night before. He was about to take a bite when he heard the familiar ring of his phone, jumping and dropping his sandwich at the sudden ringing in his ears as his hearing aids picked up on the bluetooth connection. 

“Ack! Aw, man—” Zak didn’t have time to mourn the sandwich. “Does anyone else hear—”

There was a tap on his shoulder. 

Zak turned around. 

Fisk was standing behind him with a nervous grin. He held out Zak’s phone to him in his large hands. 

Zak raised a brow. 

“Uh, thanks,” Zak said, taking it. He looked down at who was calling him and his mouth went dry. 

Kyron Jones

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” his brother asked, his grin and eyes going simultaneously wider. 

“Er, y—dude, why do you look so guilty?”

Fisk chuckled, not saying another word. 

Zak accepted the call, stepping out of the kitchen, his brother following close behind. Since his hearing aids were connected to his phone, he didn’t have to hold it up to his ear, so he looked down at the picture he had set for Kyron’s contact info—a crudely drawn picture of Mothman he had doodled the other day. 

“H-hello?”

“Zak? Hey, it’s Kyron. We still meeting up today?”

Oh?????

“U-uh. Oh. Um…yes?” he stammered, his heart skipping a beat as his thoughts seemed to short circuit. “I—uh—” he tried to ignore his brother, who was mumbling something that sounded irritatingly close to “real smooth,” but his thoughts just kicked into panic mode as he scrambled to figure out what was going on. “Sor—sorry, but where are we meeting again?”

“Uh, do you remember the park we met at? I think we agreed to meet there.”

“Oh!” (What?)

“You good, dude? You sound upset.”

“Upset? No!” god no could he please not fuck this up please —”Sorry, I think my brother—uh, nevermind. I’ll see you at…um…” he checked his text messages and his heart nearly dropped out through his stomach at the signs of texts he knew he didn’t send. “...oh shit, it’s 1:45. I’m sorry, I’ll be there in a few…uh—bye!”

He ended the call with a groan.

“Fisk,” Zak said slowly, looking through the text messages. “What were you doing with my phone?” 

Kyron, 8:33 AM: Jey Zak, how’s it going? I was wondering if u wanted to hang out today? 

Kyron, 8:33 AM: *hey

Zak, 8:40 AM:  lol

Zak, 8:40 AM: Sounds great, you got any places we can meet? :3

The emoji alone was a dead giveaway that Fiskerton had been the one messing with his phone. 

Kyron, 8:41 AM: Yea

Kyron, 8:41 AM: why don’t we meet at the same park as before? 

Zak, 8:45 AM: sounds great ill be there, 1:30?

Kyron, 8:47 AM: perfect :) 

Zak, 8:47 AM: ;P

Zak turned around, his face catching fire as he regarded his brother, who was looking everywhere but at Zak. 

Fisk chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. It was infuriating how he just found this absolutely hilarious, like he hadn’t just gone through Zak’s phone. 

“I’m going to kill you. Why would you go through my phone and—and text a random name in my phone that I haven’t even talked about?!”

“ He wanted to hang out with you, ” Fisk said very simply. 

“And you thought waiting to tell me until fifteen minutes after our ‘agreed’ meetup time would be a good idea?” Zak snapped, starting to feel sheer panic as the situation sunk in. 

Fisk grimaced. “Sorry, I thought I said 2:30.”

Zak groaned. “Fisk…why would you do this?”

At this, Fiskerton crossed his arms, raising a brow in a casual but snarky way that further infuriated Zak. 

“ You have two friends. ”

“I—” Zak scoffed. “ You’re one to talk!”

“I’m not human, I can’t have normal human friends.”

“UGH!”

Mom entered the hallway, followed by Dad close behind her. 

“Everything okay, boys?” Dad asked. 

“Just great,” Zak said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to grimace while he looked Fisk dead in the eyes with a look he hoped communicated ‘you better sleep with one eye open tonight, dear brother.’ “Fisk, why don’t you explain to our parents why I have to fly myself into the city to hang out with a stranger at the park?”

“I’m sorry, what? ” Mom asked. 

“He said he wanted to hang out with Zak!” 

“We are talking about this when I get back, you terrible, horrible, mean brother,” Zak said, before storming off.

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