In Another Life

PROLOGUE: CROSSING PATHS

Alice

The world seemed to have come to a stop around her. Her surrounding
were a blur, and the noise off the distance Well, if there was any.
Chipper of birds, speeding cars, or the quiet murmurs, she doesn't
know. She couldn't hear them. She takes it back, the world didn't seem
to come to a stop, like she felt like it did. It felt like the entire world
vanished.

The only thing that came into focus was right there. Right in front of
her.
Her legs started moving without her consent. She didn't mind. If
anything, she wanted them to move a little bit faster. And they did.
Quicker and quicker until they came a rather abrupt stop, almost
sending her falling face-first into the grass.

She never thought something she was so used to doing, something she
never thought would be strange would be so. . .

Those familiar green eyes fell on her, as he noticed her presence, and
it felt like something hit her like a tidal wave then continue to drown in
it. It was a feeling that she can't quiet place her finger on. Normally,
she hates not knowing, but now, she doesn't mind.
Eyes filled with curiosity like they always had, held her in place. She
even dismissed a passing thought that it may have frozen her legs.
Honestly, she didn't know what she would find there Fear? Anger?
Confusion? Maybe a little bit. But they still as they had always been as
it nothing had happened. As if it wasn't his own graveyard he was
standing over.
But she there was something about the moment that he looked at her
that didn't feel right. That feeling just joined in with the unidentified
emotion within her, creating a bigger mess.

He continued to stare at her. Scrutinize her, even.

As she hurries to find something to say, like she was tossing around all
the file and folders in her brain creating disorder which didn't matter as
long as she finds something, anything. But all of the papers inside
seemed to have become blank. What on Earth do you say to a person
who you thought had died a year ago?
A person who you couldn't accept was gone from your life forever?

Yet, he was right there.

All of the times she had tried to convince herself that he was gone
didn't seem to matter.

As though she randomly picked up a piece of paper in her disaster of a

mind library that actually had something written on it, she said the first
thing that came to mind, surprising herself. She honestly thought that
her voice would be nowhere to be found. But it came out clearly. No
squeaking. No stuttering. Just . . . normal.

I can't believe it.

How are you alive?

What happened?

Are you a ghost?

Those were around the lines of what she meant to say, but

"Nice weather we have today, right?" was what came out.

He tilted his head a bit, something he always did. And he looked up to

the sky. His lips stretched to a smile that you give out of respect.

"Yes, it is."

She came into two realizations at that moment.

All she can see was the person that stood in front of her.
Her world didn't disappear all together when she first noticed him.
No.

She found it.

Her world.

And two, she realized what was strange about his eyes. It wasn't an
emotion they held, it was the lack one specific one she always saw in
there.

Recognition.

And before she could come to anymore conclusions, the tsunami of

emotions that hit her grew louder. Like water roaring, as words,
questions, pop in and out in a matter of seconds, all demanding
answers, but not knowing which one to voice out firs

Then there was silence, followed by darkness.

Marcus

He was confused. Strange things were happening all around him.

For one, the tallest building he ever saw was the Skyward tower of his home kingdom.
Yet all around him, there were stone buildings that seem to reach for the heavens. And it
was made of stone too!

From all the places he had heard about, it was usually people of a royal lineage who had
castles and building made of these.

Yet there they were, stone titans that make the Skyward tower look like a chimney.

Not only that. There was not one Not two, three or ten even. They seem be like
mushrooms that sprouted from the ground in clumps. Well, maybe they were. Maybe he
was in part of the Mushroom Tribe that he had never seen.

But he highly doubted that. The tribe was not far from the tower, and he was sure he
would see these towering giants from there. Even over the giant mushroom sprout that
those people have called their home.

Though, there are more things that confuse him. Like the shiny and colorful things
(which he had assumed to be carriages of sorts with a look towards the rather strange
looking wheels) that move across the smoothest road he had ever set eyes on, without
horses!

That was not all. No, not even close.

Though, from all the strange, uh, contraptions he has seen. He doesn't know why he
didn't think the citizens of this strange land would be strange too. After all, it took quite
the unique mind to create unique inventions. But at the same time, he believes that all
minds are different from each other. All are unique. It still doesn't change the facts about
what he seen though.
He had seen strange things since he had left home but this, as the miners say, is the
shiniest gem in the stack. The world truly was an amazing place. He wouldn't even have
thought a place like this existed. Or that they use not only the same language but the same
characters for writing also. He wondered how many more surprises the world holds.

There were lots of things to think about.

Right now, he wondered whether it was normal for them to as about the weather and faint
one second later, kneeling over the persons side. He had been looking at a grave that he
was somewhat . . . compelled to come towards, and much to his surprise, it had a familiar
name engraved on it. A very familiar name. After all, it was his own. But there is of
course, people who had a similar name to his, right? It was a big world.

She seemed to be fine. Or at least, fine to him. He had no idea what was fine to the
people here.
__________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: AN UNEVENTFUL MORNING

MARCUS

To say he wasn't a morning person was an understatement.

While other people would be up by the crack of dawn, working on their farms or the
whatnot. Hed rather stay in his bed and sleep 'till noon in his warm, comfortable sheets.

But he really wasn't left with much choice with his mother banging the broom on the
kitchen ceiling which just happened to be the floor of his room. Perfectly convenient
whenever his mother needed him to buy something in the market. For her anyways.

He had considered moving rooms more than once. He would have, if his options weren't
so limited.

Sleeping in the hallways would mean she would, instead of hitting the wood, would hit
him instead telling him to get his 'lazy arse' up or else he would turn into some sort of
potato from a curse from some kingdom that he was almost completely sure she made up.
It might fool a young boy, but not him! He was a big boy now! Though, that he just
sounded like a five-year-old right there.

Other than the hallways, there was the attic. Don't even get him started. His mom used to
keep it clean, until one day she thought, 'Wait a second, I have a son to order around!'and
told him to clean it.

He did. But ever since he saw that large spider that disappeared the second he turned his
head, it became a big no-no. Who knows, that thing might have laid and hatched its eggs
there.

He wasn't a coward, but there was just something about hairy lags, many eyes and poison
from something he has no idea where it was that just made him feel uneasy. He would
rather take on a wolf, at least he could keep track of it rather than those vanishing little
monsters.

With those choices eliminated, there was the chicken house, or something. He always
called it chicken house, and he was always corrected. He would probably be corrected
again since he had yet again forgotten what it was called.

In one attempt of sleeping there, fitting inside the tiny gap in the wood that was the
supposed 'doorway' was an issue. And staying inside was another with all those chickens.
He decided to leave when one decided to sleep on his face.
After that, he wondered for a while if he was insane for even considering it. Even more,
actually trying it.

After one more pound on his floor, he realized he might be sane after all, because
anybody sane would go to drastic measures in drastic situations. And this

Another hit. He could swear everything in the room just jumped.

was drastic. A growing boy needs his sleep.

He grunted, throwing the blanket off himself. There was no way he could sleep now.

His plan of "pretend to be asleep until she goes away" had failed for probably the
hundredth No, thousand time. His mother was the very embodiment of persistence.

"Marcus! Get up! I need you to deliver some eggs to the town bakery!"

He groaned, sitting up.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Honestly, have you got nothing better to do than order me
around?!"

"What. Was. That?!"

Oh crap. Wrong move.

"I said, I'm getting up to go there right now." he tried "No complaints."

"Well good," she yelled up, "I thought I heard you say that you would rather be cleaning
the whole house for a week. But it appears that I simply misheard. Am. I. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good." she said with finality.

He got up, and took his sweet time to get downstairs, looking for any legible distraction
that can keep him from going down sooner.

He didn't find anything, as he finally made inside the kitchen.

"You live in this house, not the next mountain. It shouldn't have taken you more that two
minutes to get here." she snapped.

"Good morning to you too." He replied.

She scowled at him. "Hurry up and eat your breakfast and take those eggs to where they
are needed."

"To be part of the world's hardest bread?" he tried. He could swear that their town bakery
was secretly the producer of the rocks.
"Watch your mouth young man. They have supplied this town's bread for generations.
How can you even say that their bread is even hard when you have never tried any other
bread?" she said, pointing an accusing spoon at him.

He shrugged, "A traveling man made me taste one once."

She looked irked.

He knows that his mother wasn't happy with him meeting that man, or anything that had
to do with traveling, or anything that had to do with leaving town, or had anything to do
with him leaving her line of sight. He had always been wanted to travel the world but, his
mother all but been happy about it. 'It's dangerous out there', she would say, 'there is
nothing out there but monsters and tragedy'.

But the travelers that came upon their town showed him otherwise.
In their eyes, he could almost see the wonders that they had seen throughout the world.

In their stories, they would described a world worth exploring.

Seas of endless blue. Mountains that stretched out into the horizon. Half-human half-fish
people of indescribable beauty (He had no idea how something with a head of a fish and
body of a human would be described as so, but he didnt see them so, he could just
believe, not imagine. Because that wasnt going to work anytime soon, or at all.). Lights
in the forest in the midst of night. Dragons ruling the air with mouths that can breath fire,
some would say ice.

Each and every time he would swear to himself that he would see all of it one day, as he
climbs up the Skyward tower (which was probably the most interesting thing about that
place) and look towards the farthest horizon, even the round tops of enormous fungi of
what the explorers said was the Land of the Mushroom Tribe was resting on the horizon,
almost resembling a hill, except for a distinct red one with bright yellow spot that he
sometimes sees (they just look grey from that distance most of the time).

He thinks to himself that one day, he would cross that part. The first step in the horizon
that he would keep on chasing as he explores the lands.

And each and every time, his mother would call him down, and drill into his head the
reasons why there was nothing good to see out there. They all sounded like reasons-so-
that-my-son-would-stay-here and, he had a valid reason to counter all of them.

None that he learned not to voice out since he knows that he would never win the
argument and that speaking back with result to another full hours of lecture of the 'cons of
leaving' and extra yet unnecessary cleaning duties.

Well, the cleaning duties started after his mother decided that making him stand in the
corner and think about what he had done wasn't as effective as it was before.
His mother continued to frown at him but decided to not say a thing as she turned away
from him.
"Just go get those eggs there as soon as you're finished eating."

He did. And after splashing some water on his face and putting on another layer of
clothing for warmth. He headed out to do as he was told.

One day. . .
He swears he would leave town.

But no matter what, he would leave this uneventful little town. That, he was sure of.

Alice

If somebody told Alice that a giant meteor was going to crash and
make the human beings extinct withing five minutes, she would go to
school.

Why spend the last minutes of your life there, you ask?

Because there, five minutes equals to infinity, no matter how many

laws of Physics and Math it defies.
She would go there, life the rest of her life eating the cafeteria's supply
of canned goods, because in all honesty, she rather get eliminated with
everybody else or eat their textbooks rather than be forced to eat what
qualifies as 'food' in their school's cafeteria.

Okay, she was exaggerating. The school's food wasn't bad. Heck, it's
even good. But she was just going along with the other people's
stereotype of school lunch being terrible. Perhaps other schools, but
not this one.

She heard a tick and looked up at the clock hanging above the board,
signaling that only one second had passed. One second, for crying out
loud.

Yep, she could definitely live out eternity withing five minutes here.

Looking at the teacher who had been discussing something that she
had lost track of ten minutes within the lecture, despite being on the
middle column right upfront.
She could sleep. For some reason, this particular teacher doesn't really
notice anybody on the front. He notices the back even more.
Something tells Alice that it's because he suspected that the people
behind were the ones more likely to misbehave.

It wasn't untrue.

Usually, people that sit there, assigned there or forced themselves

there, usually take advantage of the location and take their opportunity
to do specifically what the teacher told them not to do.

Things that the students upfront usually are able to do without being
caught, but not them.

Speaking of the back. . .

She turned her head towards a particular chair at the corner at the
back that was supposed to be empty that had been occupied by
brunette who was blabbing away to her friends who were near.

The teacher seemed to have notice too as he made his way towards
them, not amused with the disruption of his class.

She sighed. He just had to be sick on one of the most uneventful day of
her life.

________________________________________________________________________
Marcus
Well, the town wasn't necessarily boring or monotonous. The buildings each held their
own story. Tales held by their frames, rotting wood or even the fungi that growed on
some.
He passed a particular fence that had a rather embarassing story, or at least for him it did.
For others, it was a funny one. His hands instinctively ran against his neck as he passed a
gap on the otherwise continuous barrier that separated the town from the forest.
Having had his head stuck there as he tried to look at a ball of light that he suspected was
some sort of forest spirit or something of that sort, it earned him a nickname that didn't
leave him even as he became an adolescent.

It didn't help that a corcerned friend of his decided to pull his pants down and, like the
mature seven-year-old he was, decided to call every single other villager who would
decide to laugh at him rather than help him.
A true friend indeed.

Neither did it help that it rained while he was stuck there.

And it certainly didn't help that once he got unstuck, instead of seeing a very concerned
and over-protective mother looking him over. He saw a face flushed from from laughing
with tears building at the corner of her eyes.

In his whole life, he could count the times he had seen him mother laughing from joy and
not sarcasm with two hands. And one of it, she just had to be laughing at her son's
ridicule. No humiliating the family or any of that crap. No. If anything, he could swear
she was the one who kept the story alive.

Ah, yes. The story of little Marcus whose pale arse had been seen by everybody in town.
A true legend indeed, one that would be passed on for generations!

He wouldn't be surprised if it actually did. Just the other day, he could swear that he heard
a couple of kids singing the little song they had made.

Little Marcus saw a bright light,

Then he chased after it with all his might,
Got his head stuck in the fence for all to see,
His buttocks were laughed at until he was set free.

Though oddly enough (or perhaps not), he made more friends since them. Yes, they
would laugh and point first before asking if he wanted to join their games.

He sighed. How easy it was to make friends back then. There wasn't that much
complications.

You can run quickly?

Get on my team! We will destroy our enemies!

But now. . .

Well, his mother did tell him that it didn't become harder making friends, you just learn to
pick them out.

The little town that he had grown up to wasn't monotonous.

No.

Each house, may it be made of stone or wood, held it's own stories. Tales hidden in the
smallest details. Scratches on the walls, holes on the floor, even an infamous knife stuck
to the ceiling of a certain person's front porch. The memory of the how exactly that got
there sufficed but he didn't delved much into it.

The wooden house now stood empty, chilly even, standing on a cliff that overlooked the
forest below. Inside was as creaky as it looked. Nobody could make a move inside that
house without all the other residents knowing. Jonathan could even tell where the squeaks
were coming from and whose footsteps they belonged to. It was an impressing skill but
really annoying when it came to playing hide and seek.

But while Marcus finds this good, Jo did not.

'But you would always know where everybody is.' Marcus would say, feeling a bit self-
conscious that his every movement was being watched. No privacy at all there. ' I mean, I
would never believe you if you say a crook broke in here without anybody noticing.'

' Yes, it is advantage to know,' Jo would tilt his head up a bit like he always does
whenever he contemplates. . . anything. May it be an answer to a difficult question or
which pants to wear. He looked at him in the eyes with a look that told him there was no
convincing him otherwise. ' but you're missing the point. The fact that I know how to
even tell means that I have, honestly, been stuck in here for too long!'

Marcus doesn't disagree with him on that.

That was years ago, and only another year or two later, he had done it. Jo had left town.

Marcus' eyes fell on two graves under a tree that had long lost its leaves that dared stand
closer to the edge of the cliffside.

Nothing ceremonial happened when Jo's grandfather passed away.

One day, he was there sitting on his rocking chair on the front porch, looking at all the
passer-by, sometimes even waving a greeting. He seemed the quiet old man to most, that
was at least on first sight. But everybody in that little town knew how much of a
blabbermouth he is when you get him started. Marcus would sit there by he feet of his
rocking chair as he listened to the stories that he had told his grandson so many times. Jo
would sit right next to him, looking a tad bit bored and paying only half-attention.

He had practically memorized all of them, he would say.

Which was a a lot to say considering he, according to the old man, hadn't even heard half
of it.

Jo would sometimes try to get his attention and make them do something 'more fun'. But
he would refuse, and so they would both end up listening to the stories, one significantly
more interested albeit the other.
He liked to think that the old man was the one that sparked his interest about the world.
The only stories he would hear from his mother are the one's from around town, about the
town. No more than that. It was interesting, but out in that vast horizon, there was just so
much more.

He recalled a time where the aged man told him of how that wooden-handled blade even
got stuck up in the ceiling directly above his chair.

Apparently, there was once way more people living in that creaky house, which would
explain how Jonathan's ears can identify more different footsteps and their location,
seeing as the old man barely walks.

He didn't tell him all the details. 'A story for another time,' he would say. And so, Marcus
continued to visit, to complete this story. It wasn't exactly one story. It was stories of
different people, but at the same time one big story that he was collecting bit-by-bit.

But one day, just like any other day, he came there to find the wooden chair rocking by
itself with no man in sight. One look over at the cliffside tree gave him his answer, and so
did the little note attached to the front door.

Grandfather, Jonathan Mace I, passed away the previous night. He is buried by the tree
overlooking the cliff next to his wife, Gladys Mace. Do not worry about me. I have taken
my stuff and went to travel. Though my return is very much doubted, I would prefer that
nobody decides to burn the house down for amusement.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Mace III

And just like that, he was gone.

Marcus knew Jo. He may very well appear to be uninterested when they listen to his
grandfather's stories, but do not get him wrong, it is only because he heard them so much.
But on rare occasion where a new story unfolds, he was ten times more interested than
Marcus himself. And Marcus knew for a fact that Jo wanted to travel one day just his
grandfather did.

But he knows that his grandfather's time was limited, and he didn't want to be away when
he passes. So he waited, and now that he was gone, he chased his dream.

Marcus wanted to leave the town. Although, each and every house and the occupants are
unique, he finds the place rather uninteresting. A lot of people would find the town exotic
because of the colors but he thinks that's all there is to the town. After all, the person who
sparked his interest in adventure passed away already.

Marcus turned the corner, revealing the little bakery standing in the midst of other
buildings. He probably wouldn't even notice if not for the wooden sign hanging out the
shop that featured a classic loaf.
____________________________________________________________

Joe
Jonathan Mace was bored. Really bored.

The teacher ranted on and on about something. He had lost inerest already. It seems that
another person had too, seeing the red wavy locks snoozing upfront.

Sweet dreams, Alice?

She's probably deaming about Mark. The oblivious idiot probably hasn't notice the little
(Ahem, massive) crush that their little friend has for him. Hell, Mark was probbly the only
person in school that hasn't noticed. As much as he hates to admit it, that idiot was what
you would call a 'best friend' to Jonathan. Well, childhood best friends anyway. Jonathan
had to move away when he was young when his father saw a job oppurtunity. He had ust
moved back a week ago.

And guess what? He ust happened to go to the same school as that idiot.

They say people change as tie passes, but Mark seemed to be an exemption. It was ust
same old Mark with the same old Alice. Okay, Alice wasn't exactly te same in many
aspects. She was still unbelievably shy, but thee was something different now about the
way she was with Mark. It even surprised him becaus he was alost completely sure back
then that she was into girls not guys.

"You seem. . ." Joe started, "different?"

Alice raised an inquisitive brow. "Different good or different bad?"

Joe hummed looking at her up and down. He smirked."Bad. You're worse than before."

Alice ht him on the shoulder.

He ruffled his already unruly black hair, creating more of a mess.

I only he could nap right now. . .

The bell rang and the class let out varying sighs of relief on which the teacher did not
take kindly too.

"Oh, so you're relieved that you're finally getting out, huh?" The teacher said, anger just
belowthe surface. " Well,then. . ."
He turned his back to the students and wrote something n the chalkboard, "I want you to
write a four page rport on this topic. No you are not allowed to use any font other than
Times New Roman and no size above twelve."

Que multiple groans.

"Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining." he said. "Do we have that clear?"

They grunted a 'yes'.

"I said," he was slightly raiing his voice, "do we have that clear?"

"Yes"

"Good."

The teacher gathered his materials and went out. onathan could swear the teacher was
smirking. Sadist.

The rest of the class proceeded to gather up their own things and prepare to go home.

Joe didn't need o ather anything since he didn't even bother to pull aything out in the first
place.

He just slung his backpack over one shoulder and made his way to his little friend.

He kicked one leg of her chair, earning him a disgrunted groan.

"Rise and shine, ugly!" he said, leaning down to her.

"No." she groned.

"C'mon, the evil baddie teacher already left and I feel like grabbing some burgers." he
stated. "I know you want some too."

"Do I have too?" she mumbled, not raising her head up from her arms.

"Marcus will meet us there." he tried.

"No, he won't." she said, notfalling for it. "Liar."

"You don't know that." he replied.

For the first time since she woke up, she looked up at him, "What are the chances that ark
would get sick and his mother would let him out of a ten-meter area diameter from her?"

"About the same chances that one day you will start hating Math. Nerd." he teased.
"I prefer the term 'intellectual." she said, sliding her pen inside her bag. She slept on it
seeing as there was a red mark on he cheek that resembled the pen's outline.

"Whatever you say, nerd." He straighted up. "Also, you have a bit of drool, right over
there."

Alice raised a hand to her face and sure enough there was, making some hair strand to
stick. She slwly pulled it off.

Hearing some chuckling, they turned in front of the just as a couple of students turned
away, clearly pretending to not have seen anything.

Alice's cheeks heated up as she hastily wiped her chek with her sleeve.

"You're gross." Joe stated.

"Sh-shut it." she said, face burning. She stood up and started hastily making her way to
the door.

"Wait up, drool face." he lightly jogged to her side. "Let's get some burgers."

"Treat me?" she tried.

"No way." he said before she even finished talking.

"Cheapskate." she pouted.

"Droolface"

"Meanie."

"Nerd."

"Jerk."

He feigned a look of unbelievable surprise. "Me? A jerk? Oh my,what blasphemy!"

She punched his shoulder, a small smile threatening to creep up.

"You're treating me jerk. Why do you even need me to come with you?"

"Because you love me?" he joked.

She hummed and looked up at the sky in a exaggerated expression of deep thought.
"Yeah. No."

"Because you love burgers?"

Se redid what she had just done, "Okay, yes."

"Let's go then." he hastened his pace as they got out the school gate. Jonathan was tall,
he knew that while Alice was a short. One step for him was two of hers.This was just to
make her life a bit harder for his own entertainment.

That was until something pased him quickly. That something turned out to b Alice, who
looked back at him, a challenging smile on her feature.

"Last one there, treats the other!" she declared, running forward.

"No way in heck am I treating you!" he said,running up behind her.

Sometimes he forgets how speedy the little idiot was. When they were kids they would
always race each other, and as much as he hates to admit it, he usually loses. You would
think that with the leg length-based advantage he had gained over adolesence, he would
have the upper hand, but apparently not. The little redhead's speed was unrelenting.

He likes it that way. It's not the same Alice if they don't constantly compete now do they.

A few minutes later, he crouhed over the pavement while Alice was bent over, catching
their breaths.

"That's 312 wins for me." she managed t say through her panting "And 308 to you."

"Are you delusional?" he said through his own ragged breath. "I was the one with 311
wins."

"Was not."

"Was to."

"Was not."

"Was to."

"Was not!"

"Was to!"

They argued over it as they made their way the cashier.

"I was the one with 311 wins, remember the last time was the darts."Alice said. " Won
that!"

"No, no, no. " he waved his hands to denyingly. "Last time was hot dog eating!"

"Was not."

"Was to."
"Was not."

"Was"

They turned towards the staff handling the registrar " May I take your order?"

Alice's face flushed yet again, embarrassed at her unpresentble behavior. Jonathan
couldn't care less that he was being innappropriate.

Neither of them had to look up at the menu.

"Cheeseburger." Alice said in a small voice.

"Two quarterpounders with cheese." Joe said casually.

The man nodded as he pressed some buttons and leaned over at the microphone repeating
their orders.

"This place hasn't chaged a bit." he openly stated, looking around "Only the staff seems
different. Look! even those plants are the same!"

Alice hummed in agreement. "They had only retouched the painting."

"Well, well, well!"

A wide smile spread on Joe's lips as he saw the familiar jolly old burger-joint owner.

"Ey, Mister Burger!"he waved over at him.

"Yeah, still not my name." he replied with a lively laugh. "Looks like you're back!"

"Am I?" Joe replied, "I don't apper to have noticed."

"Same old, same old!" Mr. Burger replied. "Let me guess? Quarterpounder with cheese"

"Ha! No, no, old man. I have upgraded!" he said proudly.

"Oh?"

"It's two quarterpounders this time!"

"Heh, atitude never changes though, still the same kid who runs in here to eat while his
friends hide in a game of hide and seek!" Mr. Burger said with a joyful laugh.

"Hey," Joe tried to defend. "Alice started it!"

Alice hit hit arm again, a habit that never died. "I did it whie it was my turn to hide!"
The jolly old man gave another laugh that seemed to echo from the pits of his stomach.
"Why don't you two go and sit down at your usual spot,the whatcha' call it Oh, the
Unknown Explorers table, yeah! I'll bring the food over there. On the house! To celebrate
Jonathan Mace's return"

"Can you put in some free fries and soda too?" Alice said, hopefully.

Joe looked over with an exprssion that said 'Will you?'.

"Hey, don't push your luck, kids." he said, crossing his arms. "I'm runnin' a bussiness here
not a charity."

"C'mon. " she prompted.

"No." he said with authority.

"Please?" she looked up at him.

The old man bit his lips and sighed, "Alright! But just this once!"

Mr. Burger leaned over the microphone and stated the new added orders.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Jonathan exclaimed.

Alice mouthed a silent 'Yes!' fist closed in a victorious manner.

They made their way over to the little corner they had called their own.

"How many free meals have you managed to score off him now?" he asked.

"About fifty-three." Alice said.

"Y'know that's not fair," he said, "taking his signature chair. "Why does he aways give
you free food, and not me unless you ask him to also!"

"I dunno." Alice shrugged, "Maybe it has something to do with him not having any
daughters."

Jonathan snorted, "Yeah. Of course he would give free food to the adorable little Alice
who could barely reach the counter."

"Hey, at least I got free food." she stated.

Jonathan ran his fingers above the familiar names lighlty carved on the side of the table.
"I can't believe this isn't gone yet." he laughed, remembering how much they got yelled at
when Mr. Burger found out.

A smile played on Alice's lips, I was passing by when they were repainting the store, I
saw him carefully making sure that the mark doesn't dissappear."

"Sentimental, much?"

"I know you appreciated it." she said.

She wasn't wrong, but he wasn't going to admit to her that she was right.

He placed his hands on the bottom of the table and started to drag it on the now smooth
underside.

"Don't tell me. . ." Alice started, a look akin to disgust and amusement.

She knows what he's doing, huh.

"Yep," he said, not finding what he was looking for. "Darn, the bubblegum's gone."

"Why would he keep a piece f dried gum stuck under the table?" Alice pointed out.

Joe proceeded to stick his head under the table. "I don't know. Sentimental reasons?
Anyway, I'm nore surprisd by the fact there is not one bit of gum down here."

There was a loud snort and Jonathan peeked up to see the old man carrying their food,
Alice looked like an exited puppy about to get her treat.

"'Course not! Cleaned them all up myself and now we have a strict no gum chewing
policy."

"'Lemme guess." Joe said, hand on his chin. "Alice is exempted from this rule."

"Alice is a good girl,"Mr. Burger shot back, placing their food down. "Unlike you."

"Hey," he straightened up, smiling "You know you love me."

"Yeah, disgusting."

Mr. Burger turned away from them.

"If you two need anything, you know where to find me.

"Got it, boss." Alice said, chewing on a fry.

"Yep." Joe said.
He waved a 'See you.' and retreated.

As soon as he was gone, Joe leaned over Alice.

"I know you have som gum on you. You always do."

"No, I will not give you any."

"Please. I have of leave some of my legacy under this table." he tried to reason, grabbing
some fries.

Alice snorted,"And then somewhere in the futere this table will be in a museum about the
legendary Jonathan Mace the Third with the caption, 'Even in his teenage years, Jonathan
Mace was already leaving his mark in the world in th form of his DNA on a chewing gum
below a table that had been otherwise clean."

"Yeah, and then Mr. Burger would say 'Y'know, that Jonathan Mace would always eat at
my burger place. He would sit on that table, and uh. . .'" Joe trailed off. "Yeah, I don't
know."

"Pfft." Alice said, "why does he sound like some sor of grumpy old man."

"Because of his pride of having the Jonathan Mace be a regular?"

"Sure" she rolled her eyes," and the table with your gum would be in preserve and
displayed with the label. . ."

She dramatical waved her hands in an exaggerated arc "'The Legacy'"

He gagged on a fry.
"That actually has a nice ring to it. The Legacy." he repeated.

"Zhe Legacy."

"Ze Legacy."

"l'hritage."

"El legado."

They burst out laughing as they unwrpped their burgers.

"You may be laughing now,but jut you wait. I will become powerful one day." Joe said.

Alice swallowed a bite."Sure, when you do, treat me."

"As if."
They continued their meal likethat, discussing things tat he, Jonathan Mace, would be in
the future. Then the conversation turned to the things that had changed since he left.

"Well, ther's still only one thing standin on the top of the list of things that have changed."
he said, crumpling the wrapper.

"And what is that?" Alice replied, making a grab for his second burger.

"Oh no, you don't!"he said, grabbing it.

"Come one! Half!"

"Let go!"

"No!"

An idea popped into his mind as a smirk pulled at the side of his lips.
"The biggest difference is that you are in L.O.V.E. with Mark."

That did it. Alice grip laxed and he managed to pull his sandwich free.

"W-What?"

Joe unwrapped the burger.

"It sort of. . . writen all over your face."

"R-really?"

"Mm-hmm" he said, through a full mouth.

"That obviouus, huh." she said, looking down a her ap.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her after fiannly swallowing, "You'reas obvious as he
is as oblivious."

"She leaned back, "It's better that way."

"Yeah," his eyes fell on her phone on the table that lit up with a new notificaion.
"Maybe."

She picked it up. Joe could swear he saw her eyes light up upon seeing who it was from
which means it was from. . .

Alice read the teaxt outloud. "'I hope there are no homework.'. Mark."
"Or maybe not." Joe said as he grabbed her phone to which she responded with a "Hey!"
He stood up and raised th phone up above har reach, while she franctically tried to swipe
it from him, jumping up and down.

He has to give her credit for her leg strenghth, he thought as he had to move the phone
sideways as he nearly reached it.

"I. Love. You. Marcus. We. Should. Date." he said outloud as he typed it in, mispelling
'you' with no 'y' rfom trying to avoid Alice's claiming swiped.

"No! give it back!" her tone wasn't the payful type of panic anymore it was serious. Or
maybe it was just his imagination.

"And . . ." he looked down at Alice with an evil smirk. "Sen"

They were glassy. Alice, the kid who he never saw cry, her eyes were watery. Gray eyes
looking desperately up at him, instead of looking at him competetively. Alice was. . .

Alice took advantage from his sudden stop in movements as she swipped the phone away
and hastily deleted the message.

"Alice. . ." he started.

She let out a relieved sigh as she deleted it, slumping back to her seat.

Marcus was his best friend, but he preferred to compete with Alice, who never looked
defeated or had given up.

But while Marvus would say that Joe had an unfair advantage.

Just you wait!, she would say, I'll definitely win next time.

Hah!, he would huff, You wish!

But right now, she looked

"I hate you." she said looking at him.

Well, she still wasn't the dramatic type who took thigs like this too personally.

He smirked down at her.

"You're hopeless."

"Jerk."
Joe sat down and took another bite from his burger hile Alice resumed eating her fries.
Taking one last bite, hehanded half of it to her.

"Here."

She looked as if she saw the impossible had just happened right in front of her.

"You taking it or not." he urged it towards her, "if not then."

"I want it." she said quickly.

"Take then. What are you waiting for."

She slowly reahed forward and took it wih a suspiscious look. If he hadto descrbe it he
would say that she looked like she was waiting for him to pull the burger away yelling
'Psyche!'.

She held half the quarterpounder, or should he say the one-eight pounder (Darn, Alice
was starting to rub of on him) and investigted it with a raised brow.

"Alright," she finally said after a minute, giving up. "What did you to the burger?"

He let out an exagerated gasp, "Did you honestly think so lowly of me, who after all these
years, finally shared his burger. Such cruel accusations."

"Exacly," she pointed out." In my whole life where I've known you, you almost never
gave me anything nice. And when you do, there's always an underlying scheme."

"Well, this one is clean. I swear on my honor as an Unknown Explorer." He placed a fist
over his heart.

She hummed, clearly not buying it. Alice raised the top bun. "It looks normal except that
there's no pickles."

"Hey, don't people usually dislike pickles."

" like them on my burgers." she stated.

"I know," he said, "that's why I ate them all.

Silence.

"No reaction?" he asked.

"I, uh," she scratched the back of her head, " expected it to be worse."
"You really don't trst me, do you?"

"Nope. Do you completely trust me?"

"What kind of idiot am I to completely trust the likes of you?"

"An idiot known as Jonathan Mace III?"

He laughed sarcastically. " Very funny."

_____________________________________________________________________

Alice
Alice opened her eyes to see beams of light managing to peak through the shading green
leaves of a tree. Her head throbbed as she shifted to find a more comforting position,
trying to recall the past events.

"Ah, you're awake." said an all too familiar voice.

She sat up as if it was the sound of gunfire. Maybe she was still dreaming?

Slowly, she turned her head as the memories slowly flooded back.

Leaning agains the bark of a tree was someone that had died a year ago. . .

Did the barista pit something in her coffee? Or was she hallucinating again. She thought
she was over the whole 'seeing what is not really there' phase. Heck, she was even
supposed to be over his death.

"Just your imagination. Not real." She turned to look at him, immediately sinking her
face in her palms after. "Not real."

"Pardon?"

Great. It was trying to converse.

"For a figment of my imagination," she looked at him up and down, eyes landing on his
lap. "Your lap is incredibly soft."

Imaginary Mark's face flushed. "O-oh, is that so?"

"Yeah," she soghed. "And you talking weird."

He raised an inquisitive brow. "How can you tell? Are you aware of my usual manner of
speaking?"

You have no idea.

"Yeah," she nodded, "Of sorts."

He looked intrigued now.

"Also," Alice tucked her legs under her. "Why do you do that?"

"Talk?"

"No I mean yes." She sighed, "I mean, why do you talk like you don't know me?"
Imaginary or not you usually do."

"No. I think the appropriate question here is that why do you talk as if you know me?"

"Because I do." she replied simply like it was a fact of like.

"Oh?"

"Blue." she stated.

"Blue?"

"Your favorite color." she explained. "Specifically, sky blue."

"How did you"

"You pretend to not believe in ghosts because you're terrified of them."

She saw his face turn red, but he did not deny it like he usually would. Weird.

"You like your fried eggs a bit toasted on the sides. It annoys you how over-protective
your mother is. You want to be like your father and travel the world. You want to What
wa it. Oh 'Chase the horizon.' Do I got that right?"
He nodded slowly, face in awe.

"See, I kno"

"Except, I've" he started, a bit darkly "I've never met my father."

"Oh. . . I'm sor" She cur off realizing that something was clearly wrong with that.
"Wait, what?!"

"I've never met my father." He repeated. She was sure, he was not lying. She could
always read straight through him.

"But"

"What are you anyway?" he asked. "Some sort of psychic? I would prefer that you do not
peek into my personal life. Thank you very much!"

Alice unfolded her legs.and leaned towards him. "No, no, no. The question is, who are
you?"

"Excuse me, I wasn't the one who just stated personal details!" he shot back.

"Well, I've been your friendsince forever! Of course, I know."

"Last time I checked, I don't know any fainting redhead!"

"Oh, so that;s how you're gonna play it huh?"

"That's how I'm gonna play what?"

"No, I see how it is." she scowled and clicked her tongue. "For a hallucination, you're a
huge pain in the ass."

"For a lady, your vocabulary is colorful." He returned the frown. "I am also. might I add,
not a figure of anyone's imagination. I am a walking and talking person."

She slapped him accross the face. Hard.

He looked stunned, unable to say anything.

"Wow," Alice looked at her reddening palm. "For something not real, you sure feel solid."

He turned red in the face. "Crazy woman!"

"Marcus?!"
They turned their heads at the newcomer.

________________________________________________________

Joe
Jonathan Mace had seen crazy things. Even some paranormal experiences. But this

"Jonathan?" he asked, eyes widening. He stood up from where he had been sitiing be the
roots. Alice looked frozen to the spot.

Joe didn't say a word. He simply made his way over and then

Thwack!

He fist made contact with Marcus' or whatevers cheeks. Marcus exclaimed,

stumbling back and tripping over a root.

"What the" He looked up at him. No anger, just shock. "What the hell, Jonathan?!"

Joe whistled. "That is one solid-feeling ghost."

"You" Alce sarted. "You can see him?!"

Joe shrugged. "So, not my imagination then."

"Ditto."

"You know this crazy witch?" Marcus propped himself up on his elbows.

Jonathan raised a brow, "Back from the dead and already on the insults? Now that's just
rude."

"'Dead?'" Marcus looked between both of them disbelievingly.

Alice scrambled out of the ground and stood next to Jonathan.

"Woah," he leaned over to her ear, noting yet again, how short she was. "I don't think
Jack Skellington here realizes that he's dead."

"Yeah," Alice agreed. "He doesn't even recognize me."

From the corner of his eye, he can see Amnesia-Jonathan watching them wearily.

"What? He didn't die from a concussion, right?"

"No. Stab wounds. None to the head. " she whispered back.

"Think we should break the news to him?" He asked, curious about the opinion of the one
who knows Mark better.

"I I'm not sure. I don't know how he will take it that he's dead." She bit her lip. "You?"

"I don't know either," Joe stole a glance at him. "But I think he deserves the truth. He
never like dit when people hid stuff from him."

"Yeah. You're a constant reminder of that."

"Oh, hush."

"But he feels solid too." Alice reminded him.

"Yeah," Joe admitted, placing a hand on his chin. "That's odd. Are ghosts supposed to do
that?"

"I don't know. How should I know?! Do I look dead to you?" she whisper-yelled.

A teasing smirk played in his lips as he looked at her, "Maybe."

She thwatcked him in the arm.

"Well, maybe we should tell him that he's dead then he'll tell us the answers." He
suggested.

"I'm not sure. . ." she stole a glance at the guy who was now suspicsiously glancing at
them. "How would you feel if somebody told you taht you were dead?"

"Frankly, I would feel invincible. You?"

"Eh, I guess, I may mess with a few unfortunate idividuals." she replied. "You being on
top of the list."

"Oh, please. What will you do? Tickle me in my sleep?"

"Burn your homework."

"Now taht's just evil. Can ghosts even do that?"

"I don't know." Alice said. "Why don't you ask him?"
She nooded over the supposed 'ghost', forgetting for a bit that he was still there with
them. Mark's face was starting get a bit annoyed, like it always does whenever people
whisper around him, without knowing what they were whispering about.

"Where has this conversation even gone? We were supposed to be discussing him. Should
we tell him or no?"

"I guess, but we have to take it slowly, we can't just full out and say, 'Hey! You wanna
know a fun fact? You're dead! Ha! Funny, right? You were brutally murdered a year
ago!'" Alice suggested.

"Well, I just might brutally murder him if he doesn't stop looking at us like we're his
murderers." He said glancing at him.

"Alright, how do you suggest we tell him?"

After a minute or two of discussing the flow, they were ready.

Alice took a deep breath, and they turned to face the dead one

He was gone.

Jonathan was sure for a second there that he felt a chill run down his spine. So, it really
was aghost. Ha. . .

"There!" Alice's shout knocked him out of his train of thoughts. He followed the direction
that her fingers were pointing.

_______________________________________________________

Marcus
Crap.

The witch was pointing a finger at him as he tried to climb over the metal fence that
signalled the end of the grassy dirt and the start of the stone pavement.
One he had overheard the words 'murderers' and 'you're dead', he had instantly decided
that rather not stick around.

He hurriedly climbed to the top before hopping of, irritating an old woman who was just
near by. He yelled an apology back as he ran as quickly as he can away.

He'd rather not die today. Thank you very little.

He ran passed annoyed passer-by's. He had a good headstart, so there was a chance he
might escape the taller one. The small one was not much of a worry seeing her short legs.

He took a sharp turn between two unbelievably smooth stone buildings hoping to lose
them. He ran into the alleyways, taking random turns. He passed a metal cylinder that had
black bags in it.

He started to slow his pace when he was sure that they were gone.

There were footsteps not far behind.

He broke into a run again.

Turning from one corner to another at random. But the footsteps weren't getting queiter.
If anything they alarmingly grew louder. The tall one was quick!

Then he saw a metal cylinder that was too similar to the one earlier. He went in a circ

Crash!

The wind knocked out of him as he fell face-first.

The footsteps receeded as it got closer.

He was in no way prapared to die.

He attempted to stand up to find that somethingNo, somebody. Was holding him down.

"Don't you think you should be more careful?" said the voice of his childhood friend
who, like him, had gone through several changes through adolecence.

"Well, he's already dead." said the voice he recognized as the one from the girl earlier.

No, No. Not yet. No, no, no.

"Can dead people still feel pain?" asked the other.

"Ask him."

For a girl, she sure knows how to hold a person down.

"Can you feel pain?"

"Yes!" He aswered, his lips grazing the rough ground.

"Promise not to try to run away if I let you go?"

"Yesh!" he said, being muffled by his head being pressed to the ground.

"You buy it?" asked Jonathan.

"Yeah, no." said the other. "Can you hand me that belt over there?"

"Over where?"

"The trash can."

"Gross."

"Have a better idea, Sherlock?"

"Eh."

A few moments later, he felt his hands being tied behind him. Though, he expected more
force. Instead, he was handled gently. Almost as if they didn't want to hurt him.

Marcus had better not fall into this trickery.

"Can you even tie a ghost?" said the male.

"Apparently, so."

Marcus felt himself picked off the ground and into a more comfortable position.

"I wouldn't try to run again if I were you." Jonathan warned.

"And why would I not run away from murderers?" he snapped.

"Okay. One," Jonathan held up a finger. "We are not murdurers"

"But you said when you were whispering"

"You probably misunderstood. " he explained, rubbing the back of his head. " And even if
we are murderers, do you really think you have the right to be noisy right now?"

He gulped.

"And two, we can both outrun you. Since you seem to have forgotten, you were always
the slowest out of the three of us."

"Always?"
"Always."

"I think you two," he he glanced at both of them individually before continuing. "Are
mistaking me for another person."

"Really?" the girl raised a brow. "What is your name then?"

"Marcus James"

"Age?"

"Sixteen."

"Favorite color?"

"Blue. Sky blue."

"Date of birth?"

"August 18, 300 A.W."

Silence.

They both looked confused.

"Did you just say that you were bron on year three hundred?" the redhead asked.

"'A.W.'?"

"Yes!" Marcus exclaimed. "What you have you two been doing? Living under a rock the
past 300 years?!"

"Don't you mean 'B.C.E.'?" The girl quirked a brow.

"No, I mean 'A.W.'" He said. "As in 'After War'. You know, the War Between Kingdoms?
Surely, even you two ignorant people know this?"

They were both quiet.

"Did he just call us 'ignorant'?" The guy looked over the girl who was sitting in front of
Marcus.

"Wait a second." the girl said. "Where do you think you are?"

"I want the answer to that very question now."

They looked at each other. He saw her mouth something to Jonathan who was casually
leaning on the wall. Jonathan nodded.

"What years do you think it is?"

He alsmost rolled his eyes, forgetting that these two might murder him.

"316."

Again there was silence.

"Mark" the girl started.

"Marcus." he instructed, a bit harshly. The more he stays with these two, the more
annoyed he gets.

"Marc-us" She emphasized, annoyance lacing her words. "It's 2017."

What?

"You're bluffing."

"No," It was Jonathan who spoke up. "I would that you are the one bluffing if we couldn't
tell whether you're lying or not."

They can tell?!

"What are you doing anyway?" Marcus directed at Jo. "You know all of this, why play
the fool?"

"He doesn't have to play the fool." the girl said.

Is that so?

Marcus looked at her. Jonathan nodded.

"He is a fool."

Oh.

"You little!" Jonathan walked up behind the girl and stretched her cheeks."What did you
say?!"

"A fact Ow, ow, ow."

Jo stretched her cheeks before letting go.

Marcus was now even more confused whether they were messing with him.

"Quit fucking around. You know what year it is." Jo said.

"I am not messing around!" he defended. "You're the one who's lying. You know it."

"Well, I'm not the one who came back from the dead!"

"Do not mistake me for the man six-feet under that graveyard! We're just name alikes!"

From what he can tell, they're mistaking him for the one under the tombstone. But it was
still disturbing him that he does feel a connection.

The girl raised a brow, "And you two just happen to look exactly alike, act alike, just talk
diffrently?"

Really now?

She seemed to have caught on to his expression because she said, "Do you honestly
mistake you for someone else if you look and act different?"

"I uhh. . ." he didn't know what to say. he was sure that they feel something, after all he
did just appear to be an old friend who came back to life.

"The gravvestone." she said.

"Pardon?"

"The gravestone." she looked him straight in the eyes. "There was a date on the
gravestone. What was it?"

The gravestone. . . .

He pondered. He knew what it was, he read it just before a certain somebody decided to
faint on him. And there was something not righ

"Born: August 18, 2001. . . Died: August 18, 2016"

No, no. From what he knows, no matter where he was it was always the same. Some
place might have a variation on the interpretation of the measurement of time, but all of
them follow the same basis of year. The end of the war. It was meant as a sort of sign. A
sign that they may all be separate and different, but they were all the same, living in the
same world, with the same time. Together.

This was not right. Not a single bit.

"Mark?"

"Marcus." he corrected immediately.

"Marcus, are you alright?"

He looked at her and found that there was something strange about looking her in the eye,
because she seemed to want to avoid his.

"Yes." He finally managed to say. "I'm fine. This is just. . ."

He looked for the proper term to descrbe whatever this was.

"A lot to take in."

Jo seemed to finally find his voice, "Don't woory, you'll probably figure it out. And once
you do"

CRASH!

_______________________________________________________________

Alice
What the heck?

Black bags were sent up in the air, some were torn spreading whatever was inside in the
alley.

"What the hell?!" Joe yelled, saying what she had in mind.

It was quiet.

No sounds from the busy hustle and bustle of the main road not too far. No distant voices.
No sound of cars or traffic. No anything. As if the entire world went quiet. As if the entire
world dissappeared. All that was leftt was the moment that they stood in, like it was the
only present left.

Yes. It was quiet. All but a low humming sound that seemed to accompany it,
complimenting it.

"LA! LALALALA LA LALALA!"

Alice jumped the sudden outburst behind her. MarkMarcus, she corrected herself
looked like a madman singing at the top of his lungs.
"LA LA! THE KNIFE IN MY POCKET. PLEASE SET ME FREE NO! DON'T
COVER YOUR EARS! DON'T LET IT BE SILENT."

What?

He looked at her eyes telling her clearly that this was no game. She had to move. Now!

She leaned forward and picked his pocket.

"RIGHT ONE!"

"MY RIGHT OR YOURS?"

"MINE!"

She switched pockets, deciding not to question why he was carrying a knife around,
maybe it had something to do with whatever was happening.

"JONATHAN!"

Alice flinched from the volume of his voice, but whipped around to see Joe. . .walking.

It was like he was in a trance, probably was. He walked like a mermaid sung to him,
luring him closer.

"STOP HIM!"

"JOE!"

It was either he didn't hear, or he didn't care, because he kept walking.

"LET ME LOOSE!"

Hastily, she undid the belt behind him.

:Now, what?!"

He gave her a blank lood.

You gotta be kidding her.

"You don't know how to defeat this thing?!"

"UHHH." His eyes flicked behind her before widening.

She didn't have to guess, she turned around. Jo was standing right in front of the open
mouth of a. . .

Small whale?!

Her jaw fell open, before she shook her head. There has to be something.

She tightened her grip to find something in it. She looked down to find the knife she took
from Marcus' pocket.

________________________________________________

Joe
It was quiet. No stress from the busy streets. No anxiety from the rush people. People that
ran past him, making him feel uneasy thhat while they panicked he relaxed.

There was no arguements. No yelling at each other. In the rare instances in his life, it was
queit.

He walked towards the sound of silence, with nothing but a low thrumming.

Come. It called. And it will quiet from now on.

This the only present. What other stuff didn't matter. There was only now.

So, close . . .

The shiny blade of a knife nailed itself on the wooden board just next to his face.

"Oh! Fuck!" he jumped back. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Whoopsies." said an all-too-familiar voice.

"ALICE!"

"My bad."

"JO!" It was Marcus Nah, still Mark called out to him, gesturing to his front.

What was it

Then it sank in, like the Titanic.

He slowly turned around, feeling sweat start to drip from his forehead.
Right in front of him were rows and rows of seemingly endless razor-sharp teeth. Last
time he checked, the silence he sought was way more inviting.

"Nice dental health." he said.

Maybe if he called death pretty it would let him live.

It closed its mouth in a silent snap. He almost heard it, even though there was none.

He gulped before setting his gaze on the blade right in front of him.

She was probably aiming at this huge mini-whale.

It ws a curved knife. An glass orb was resting on the top of its hilt, hollow on the inside.
There was swirls engraved in the blade building all the way up to the handle.

He stopped gaping at the strange artifact of a sword when a peaceful yet now fear-striking
hum bounced of the walls again.

Oh, no. Fuck this shit.

He grabbed the knife and, with more effort than he thought he needed, pulled it out.

He made a mad dash towards the other two.

"Why are you two numbskulls daydreaming for." he said as he passed between them
"Run!"

Next thing he knew, Alice was running ahead of him and he can hear Mark right behind.

They switched frrom alley to alley, looking for some place, any place noisy.

But it was as if the entire world vanished.

"Over there!" Mark shouted.

Joe looked behind him to find that Mark was surprisingly not far behind, but still lagging.

"Could you two" he panted, "slow down a bit?"

If this wasn't a life and death situation, he would've laughed.

He snickered.

Yeah, no. Even if was a life or death situation he would laugh.

Hey, if he was going to die. He was dying in high note.

He laughed. "Slowpoke."

Mark's face flushed.

"Shut your trap!"

Alice whistled running back to them, a teasing smile on her face. "Hey, to his credit, he's
faster than Mark."

"Yeah, but he's on adrenaline."

"Shut up!"

"Why is this a sensitive subject for baby Marky? Aww."

"It is not!"

Humm.

"Well, shit."

Mark ran to a dumpster and threw the lid open with a loud bang.
"Over here!"

They ran towards him..

"In there?!" they asked in unison.

It was a classic dumpster. Gross green nand dirty grey lid. And of course with the
traditional overflowing bags of garbage.

There was silence

"LA LA LAAAAA!" Mark yelled, over the filling quiet.

"Holy shit, dude!" Joe covered his ears before putting it back down again, realizing this
was better.

"IN!"

Alice loooked at him.

"Ladies first?" she gestured for him to go in.

"Then that would be Mark."

"I'm not!"

"Pfft. Whatever let's you sleep at night." Alice said.

"Shorties first?"

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

He felt himself get shoved against the rim, face nearly slamming into a half-eaten
lasagna.

"Mark, what the fu"

"Now!"

Before he had anytime to react, helt felt hands on his legs as they hauled him over.

At least the lasagna didn't stick to his face, he thought. As the garbage bags shifted,
allowing him to fall further in, until his back crushed an uncozy garbage bag.

Soon enough, he felt weight on his chest as another person went in. Then the last.

"Get off me, woman!" he whisper-yelled, trying not to open his mouth so much. "Have
you ever heard of a 'diet'?"

"Shut up."

He felt her shift, relieving his chest of the pressure.

"Marcus James, I swear if this is revenge for last christmas, I'm going to murder you
again."

"What exactly happened last You know what, nevermind. Just stab the knife you have
into the bottom."

"What?"

"Stab the knife to the bottom, the floor!" He clarified. "Goodness! Are you deaf?"

"Just making sure, cranky pants.

"Well, make sure quicker unless you want to feel those sharp teeth against your throat."
Mark yelled.

"Joe!"
"Fine!"

Much to his annoyance, he had to snake his way through some garbage. He felt a
particular bag feel cold and squishy. He doesn't know what was inside but he rather
never.

This was crazy. But so was the whale, so he doesn't really wanna argue.

He plunged the knife. Much to his surprise, it didn't bounce of. Instead, it went in like a
hot knife it already softened butter.

Then there was light engulfing him, and then the feeling of falling

Then a hard ground.

"Oof! Son of a" He was cut off as the rest of the contains of the garbage bin was
dumped unto him. Not far from his, he heard a small splat.

"My, my, my!"

He propped himself up on his shoulders, eyes still adjusting due to the sudden light, and
sudden lack of it.

"Did I forget to mention to close your eyes?" Mark said, feigned guilt clear in his voice.

"Dick move, James."

"Curious, curious!" The voice was a bit raspy and squeeky, yet deep at the same time. It
alsmost reminded Jonathan of his grandfather in a way.

He looked up and found that he had look back down again, finding what he thinks is the
owner of the voice.

"Marcus, my boy." He started. He wore a leather cap, acceneted with lenses attached to a
rounds gear, attached to a bunch of smaller gears and so on. They seemed to be attached
to the googles he currently wore, making him look like he was some sort of bug with
enlarged eyes. But probably the most notable feature was that he or it only reached to his
knees. "Who are these, uh, varying specimens?"

"Varying specimens?" Alice said, from somewhere.

"Ah, a curious specimen too. Tell me boy, what did you find?"

Jonathan sat up, brushing off the bits of garbage attached to him, trying but failing to
ignore the scent.
"What I found?!" Mark laughed. "Oh, you would love to hear!"

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