Chapter Text
Frank Morrison could kill for a cigarette and decided he would be doing just that.
Really, it was the little things that he missed most of all. Sitting around on the curb, drinking beers and smoking cigarettes to pass the time before heading off to cause mischief. Throwing the empty bottles in the streets, the echoing sound of the shattering glass oddly satisfying. The carefree laughter that would accompany it, the juvenile hope that the litter would damage some careless driver’s tires.
The memory seemed so distant now, it might have never happened at all.
Right now, he was groaning in pain, vision blurred and dizzied by the excruciating backlash of coming out of his frenzied state. His muscles spasm paralyzed his limbs and he had to catch his breath to recover, glancing up in hatred at the retreating figure of the survivor he just missed with his blade. It was some old man too; white hair and wrinkles and all. That some crusty fossil somehow out-maneuvered him made everything that much more irritating. Him running with incredible resilience, without needed to catch his breath, despite that lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
Frank was going to get that old bastard and take his smokes if it’s the last thing he did.
It wasn’t a great idea to get tunnel vision like this when he was out on trials. It was best to spread out, slash at as many as he could along the way. Get them bleeding and get them distracted away from their repairs.
Frank was always great at doing what he wanted, not what he should. What he wanted was smoke filling his lungs so that he could remember the taste of petty rebellion he took for granted before his descent into the fog.
Nimble as always, he slid over the pallet the old man fruitlessly dropped down as a means to slow him down. The blade connected, it’s filthy jagged teeth ripped into his back as he heard the pop of a generator into the distance. No matter; he wiped the blade on his equally filthy jacket and kept running. The grunts of pain and blood were laughingly easy to follow and it didn’t take long for that final jab to take him down.
The veteran led him far away from any hooks and the final generator was now completed. There was a ghost of a smile of his worn face that Frank made quick work of erasing with a boot to the jaw. The previously lit cigarette had fallen out of his mouth from the impact, the burning tip fizzling out.
It was always a feral thing when Frank killed them, his blade slashing wildly, stabbing into their flesh and tendons to drag them nearer as they tried to scramble away. He was barely mindful when he straddled his victim to plunge the hunting knife deep into his chest and slit the man open like a fruit. It was all raw killing instinct and compulsion.
Panting lightly, he remained seated on his waist, admiring his handy work. He paid no mind to the other survivors, who were most likely making their way out the opened exit gates, in favor of searching his pockets. He patted down the ruined corpse until he finally felt the outline of a crushed pack on his chest. He pulled it out of the breast pocket victoriously and glanced down at his prize.
He must have been overzealous in his attack, as always, because the thing was slashed. That wouldn’t have been so bad except that the blood soaked through and made the tobacco unusable.
Of fucking course.
Annoyed, he bitterly crushed the pack and threw it on the ground next to the dead man and got up to leave, teeth gritted. He ignored the eerie whispers telling him to do better next time.
…
When he grumpily kicked open the heavy, snow-whitened door of Mount Ormond’s lodge, Frank wasn’t expecting to find all three of his friends lounging around. It was actually surprisingly sporadic for all of them to be present, despite their living arrangement. Some would be called to the hunting grounds, or others would occasionally be loitering away by themselves in the quarters of the building they’ve appointed as their own.
Joey called out to him from his spot of the raggedy couch, enthusiastic as always to see him. It was almost endearing, how captivated he was by his mere presence, even after all this time. “Franky boy! Killed ‘em all?”
Julie was sitting in a nearby armchair and languidly glanced over at Frank, not nearly as enraptured by his arrival as Joey had been. She practically rolled her eyes at his eagerness and it made Susie snicker but she too looked over to the door, keen gaze on their leader.
The latter shrugged his shoulders flippantly at the question, making his way closer to the fire and dropped his bloodied mask on the adjacent table. “Yeah, no. Three got away.”
Joey frowned a bit with empathy. They all knew first hand the sentiment of a poor performance in the Entity’s cruel game. “Shit, sorry.”
Frank threw a glower in his direction and shook his head, aggravated at the pity he never asked for and deflected swiftly. “I don’t give a fuck. I wasn’t really trying to get them.”
The tattooed young man twirled his soiled knife idly in his hand before gesturing with it as he spoke. “These hunts, it’s always the same shit over and over…” He paused meaningfully. “…So lets make it interesting.”
It was a lovely sight, the three pairs of eyes staring up expectedly as him as he spoke, eagerly waiting for him to elaborate. Like he was their shepherd.
He continued, pleased to have their undivided attention now. “There’s this old man who’s always smoking, you guys know the one.”
They all nodded. There weren’t that many victims, always the same dozen or some, reconditioned back for more killing.
He leered mischievously. “Next time you see him, get me his pack of smokes. I got ‘em off him but they were soaked in blood.”
Julie nodded softly, a smile grazing her pretty face at the challenge. “Sounds fun to me.” She then pursed her lips at him. “Who says I’ll share with you?”
He sighed and put a hand over his heart, as if wounded. “Ju, baby. Don’t be like that.”
Frank slipped over the backrest of the couch, landing flush besides the boy already seated there and draped his arms around his shoulders. He smirked and patted his chest with his other hand. “Be more like Joey here; a loyal goon that’s going to get me some damn smokes.”
The latter hummed in his embrace, seeming to deliberate before replying with a dismissive shrug. “Nah, Ju’s got the right idea. Finders keepers.”
Frank tsked and shoved him roughly, drawing a playful outraged sound out of the other boy as he inadvertently fell on his side. “Fuck all of you. Susie’s got my back.”
The pink-haired girl had been watching them quietly, fingers idly twirling the loose threads of her sweater. She often seemed absent minded as of late, but now that Frank addressed her directly, she perked up. With a finger on her chin, she scratched it in mock thought. “I don’t know, Frank. Cigarettes are bad for your health.”
Frank leaned over in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and tilted his head at her before cooing. “Suz, I know you’re joking, but I swear I’m going to smack the braces right out of your mouth.”
Susie huffed and covered her mouth, muttering vaguely for him to shut up. Laughter erupted out of the other two and Frank beamed at them. He loved making them laugh like that. It had always been easy for him, since the simpler days at Julie’s house parties, when they would flock around him like moths to the flame.
The three teased and talked big, but Frank knew that they would do exactly what he asked. They always did. He had a way to make them want to make him happy. To want to impress him.
Besides, he felt it in them too, this dilapidating boredom they all shared. Well, calling what was wrong mere boredom would be downplaying it drastically.
No one really talked about it, but it always ominously hung in the air. Insistently.
They were trapped.
Idle talks and jokes were a weak veil from the gloomy fate they all shared.
The killings were thrilling at first, for Frank at least, but it quickly became a chore rather than a way to pass the time. There was nowhere for them to go outside of the trials; not really. The Entity’s mysterious fog engulfed all in an endless night and venturing out too far only brought them to realms belonging to other unfortunate souls like them.
Well, not quite like them.
Most were much more horrific.
Frank had considered causing trouble, taking out his legion to vandalize and steal like they used to do back home. He went out on his own, feeling curious, and ventured to a seemingly abandoned asylum. He heard the uncanny screech of the Nurse only once, but he still got chills thinking about it. As if the sound wasn’t blood curdling enough, he caught sight of her from afar.
Her neck was bent unnaturally, her body floating eerily off the ground as she loosely grasped a rusty bone saw. Her face covered by an eyeless bloodied bag, yet she turned her head in his direction, as if she didn’t need her sight at all.
He wasn’t a coward, but there was something sobering about realizing he was imprisoned with paranormal beings that seemed pulled out of horror films. It wasn’t just the all-powerful eldritch monstrosity; as if that weren’t unsettling enough.
The young man stayed put in Ormond between trials ever since.
With all this considered, leading his Legion on a little side quest would do them some good and, most of all, he would get what he wanted out of it.
Yet, deep in his gut, there was this icy dread that as soon as he would get the cigarettes, things would go back to the grim routine of this eternal limbo.
That he would inhale the smoke and feel absolutely nothing.
That he would put it out and not have a single thing to look forward to doing after.
…
Frank’s hunt was a lot more successfully this time around and thus the whispers of the Entity weren’t spurning him as loudly. He got to enjoy the short walk back to the lodge in that unnatural quietness that plagued the eternal winter night. Somehow, the silence made it worse. He wished he had brought his Walkman with him. The loud percussions would be distracting him from just how unnaturally still the mock Ormond was.
It was the sound of rattling plastic scraping on the cold ground in the otherwise perfectly quiet night that caught his attention. Puzzled, he glanced down to see what it was. Seemed he kicked something as he walked and he crouched down to inspect it. The black plastic casing coupled with antennae was pretty telltale, but he still picked it up and flipped it open. He ran his filthy thumb over the dial pad with a little curious hum.
It was a cellphone.
He hadn’t seen that many around, especially not in Ormond. Although they were getting more and more popular, it still seemed more like a big city, pompous businessman type of luxury item. Good luck getting decent signal in a small mountain town. He did not understand how something like this could have gotten lost in their realm, of all places.
Frank entered the lodge holding his new find and glimpsed around the empty lobby. The flickering flames were the only sign of life; seemed he was on his own. Had any members of his legion been around, perhaps he would have shared the mysterious discovery with them. Discussed the implication of what having a phone could mean for them.
Someone like Susie probably would have liked to try calling her parents. Probably would have been crushed to realize it was impossible, despite how obvious that ought to be.
Frank flopped down on the couch, glad to be able to take his time to inspect the thing without being bothered by the others. He playfully pressed on a couple of buttons, watching the number appear on the small screen. This meant that it was at least partially functional, which was a good sign. He wondered if he ought to try to make a call. He then realized that there wasn’t a single person he cared enough about to reach. Besides, they were in the Entity’s clutches; no escape and no signal.
The unexpected chime of the ringing phone in his hands shattering the silence startled him to the point of almost dropping the thing.
When he had inspected the cell, he didn’t see any signal bars and now, inexplicably, a call was coming through. The red LED on the black screen read ‘Private Number’.
He stared dumbly at phone in his hands as it rang a second time.
Then a third time.
As bizarre as this was, Frank’s curiosity got the best of him and he brought the phone to his ear and answered before the fourth ring. “Hello?”
There was a bit of static at the end of the line and some indistinct shuffling sound. After a few seconds of disturbance, a voice finally responded. “Hello?”
This exchange over a phone was so incredibly mundane, so incredibly resembling of the normality of the world before the fog that Frank had a hard time believing it was actually happening. The voice sounded different than his, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find it was just his echo over dead air.
Still, he responded, in the off chance of an actual answer. “Yeah?”
The reply was almost immediate. The masculine, smooth voice inquisitive. “Who’s this?”
Frank blinked, stupefied. Well, this was unexpected.
Perhaps reasonable people would have introduced themselves in this instance.
Truth of the matter was that Frank Morrison was innately provocative at best and simply unpleasant at worst. He certainly was not about to comply for some stranger over the phone, no matter the odd circumstance.
His quip came easily, his tone mocking and confrontational. “You’re the one that called, asshole. Who the hell are you?”
The voice answered just as nippily, without faltering. “I asked first.”
Frank snorted in disbelief. As if this was a negotiation. This guy obviously didn’t know whom he was dealing with. “Fuck off.”
Rashly, he hung up and threw the cell on the table.
The youth sat on the couch with his arms crossed and stared at the now silent phone with a frown. Almost immediately, he realized that perhaps he had been too impulsive in hanging up. Now that the call was over, he had many other questions he would probably never get the answer to.
Eh, oh well.
Almost as soon as he made his peace, the phone started ringing again. He stared at it disbelievingly for a moment or two before picking it back up.
He was thankful to have the bothersome stranger call back, simply out of entertainment value, but he wasn’t going to betray that in his tone. He tried to sound as bored and hostile as he could. “What?”
The stranger must have been upset.
“That wasn’t very nice.” There was a razor sharp harshness to his tenor that was a stark contrast to how he had originally answered. Almost sounded like a completely different man. There was a pause before the voice added, accusingly. “You have my phone.”
Frank smirked, unfazed by the other’s crossness. That’s what this was about? Well, he supposed that made sense. The cellular device certainly did not belong to him or his crew. Well, until now that was. There was no chance he was about to relinquish his new toy.
He shrugged and replied in a cheeky tone, aiming to piss him off even more. “Finders keepers.”
The young man heard breathing over the line but nothing else. Had the stranger given up already?
Just as he was starting to find the stretch of uncomfortable silence bordering on creepy, the deep voice murmured ominously. “Maybe I should come get it?”
Frank frowned and spoke in a slightly lower octave himself, tone laced with threat, to make sure the other understood he wasn’t one to be messed with. “Your funeral.”
There was a light chuckle at the end of the line, the ominous tone becoming teasing. “Hm, you’re kind of scary.” The suave voice practically purred. “I like that.”
This was not exactly the response Frank had been expecting and he was at a loss for words for a short moment.
The stranger took the silence as an opportunity to continue in that same, slimy voice. “Do you like being scared?”
Frank wasn’t sure how to feel about the turn the conversation took. Was this freak trying to make him uneasy? Was this a pathetic attempt at frightening him, or more awkwardly yet, flirt with him?
Still, he could play along. He grinned wolfishly and fished out of his pocket his bloodied knife, still coated with fresh gore from the trial, twirling the thing in his hand. “I do most of the scaring, you feel me?”
There was another drawn out pause before the voice breathed out. “Yeah, I feel you.”
Frank was just about done, so he spoke in an obviously sarcastically cheerful tone. “Good.” He finished flatly. “Bye, weirdo.”
He was about to flip the cellphone close but he heard the voice call out after him stridently.
“Wait, wait! Don’t hang up!”
He brought the phone back to his ear, curious to hear what the other could possibly have to say now.
The stranger’s voice was calmed anew. “I changed my mind. You can keep it.”
Frank snorted a bit, genuinely impressed at the nerve this guy had. “It’s cute that you think you had a say, but whatever.”
There was another chuckle on the end of the line, a bit heartier this time. “You’re funny. I think I’d like to talk again.” He drawled out with a bit of a forlorn sigh. “It gets so boring, here.”
The voice perked up, sounding deep and smooth again. Almost playful. “Catch you later.”
Before Frank could say anything, the stranger hung up.
The young man sat there, staring at the now quiet device, and took a moment to digest what had just happened, only briefly questioning whether if it had really occurred at all.
He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and leaned back, kicking up his wet boots on the table. He had both hands in his pockets, one touching his knife and the other casually holding the cell and was replaying the whole bizarre conversation in his head.
The quality of the stranger’s voice, those vague threats and vaguer flirting; it stirred something in him. He wouldn’t be able to explain what, but it was oddly stimulating.
After all, it did get boring here, didn’t it?
This, whatever it was, it could be fun.
It could be something he got to have. Something that just belonged to him.
Shortly after, when Joey came back from his trial and sat besides him, asking him casually what was new, Frank said nothing.