After everything that happened with Gio, and everything that had been happening with Walter, it was Tana who suggested that Tate needed a break. From the searching and from the fighting, because it was wearing him down. Tate had to begrudgingly agree, but Tana assured him that she would work with Gio herself and that they wouldn't make a move on Walter without him. If Tate disagreed he'd just be doing more harm.
What he needed was normalcy. To take time off from being a vigilante and just be Tate for a while. There was no better way to do that than go back to work. The diner always needed help, so he showed up for his shift like normal. It was his first time back after taking time off. He wanted to act like nothing had happened, to just go back as if he hadn't missed almost four weeks of work there — but it wasn't that simple. Everyone was asking how he was, asking if his family was okay, asking if he needed anything, and asking if he knew anything. It was like Walter had died, not escaped prison. Though he preferred them being concerned over them thinking Tate and his family were harboring a criminal.
There were only three people left in the diner as the clock ticked closer to eleven. The main cook, who was also the owner, a dishwasher, and Tate. Both were people Tate had known since he was a kid. Back when he and Gio would always meet after school and sit in the same booth. He was pretty sure that Gus, the owner, had single handedly fed him his entire high school career. This was one place Tate always felt like part of the family. Where he wanted to help out in any way he could. So as the dishwasher finished spraying everything down, complaining about how late it was, and the owner was almost finished counting the money in the register — Tate just told them both to go home. That he would finish cleaning and fully close. A few of the tables needed to be wiped down still, a spot on the floor needed to be mopped and swept, stuff needed to be restocked — Tate would gladly be alone and do it all. Listen to music from the old jukebox and blast it through the whole place? That sounded like the perfect way to finish off work and get his mind off everything.
It helped that Tate was so trusted. He'd worked almost every shift he'd been assigned, and a little extra, for the last five years. It's why both agreed so easily and left, knowing that the place was in good hands with Tate there. Shortly after they both left, Tate went out into the dining area and started the jukebox back up. He wasn't even mad that the first thing that came on was Billie Jean by Michael Jackson. He was dancing around as he cleaned the few tables and counters. He danced back into the kitchen and swept the floor. Thankfully he was alone, so when he spun around and used the broom like a microphone as he pretended to be Michael Jackson himself putting on a concert — no one was there to see. Yeah, this is what he needed. Time alone, but still distracted.
It was as he did a second spin and he turned around to be face to face with a creature straight out of his childhood nightmares that shit really hit the fan. Tate dropped the broom, looking up at the stitched-up-bag-for-a-face that the thing had. To say he was unnerved would be an understatement; he was entirely jarred. Everything surrounding the creature seemed to be distorted — unnatural. The diner swirled behind it, as if it was disturbing reality just by existing.
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“So this is what it fears? A thing that a childhood imagination made?”
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The voice came out in whispers, wrapping around Tate and crawling up his spine into his ears. It caused him to shudder, like nails on a chalkboard. The tall creature in front of him tilted its head to the side, twitching slightly as the movement seemed to strain it.
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“Interesting… I want to see more…”
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Reaching out with a blackened, gangly hand and long fingers that extended into sharp claws, the creature attempted to grab Tate. His eyes went wide as he realized this wasn't a hallucination. The thing that he would have nightmares about as a child was standing right before him. The thing that, for the longest time, made Tate fear the dark as a child. He couldn't sleep without a light on until he was ten years old. Waking up in the middle of the night and screaming about how the “stitched-face man” was coming to kill him and his family.
Tate jumped backwards and away from the creature's hand. He kicked the dropped broom up with his foot and caught it. He wasn't really sure what the hell a wooden broomstick was going to do against a creature that looked like it crawled straight out of hell, but he'd seen this horror movie before. He would go down swinging. Which is exactly what he did next, swing as hard as he could. The creature's body just distorted, moving and turning partially into mist to avoid the attack. It laughed, a metallic and hollow sound. It was mocking him. Tate needed to find an electrical outlet, and fast.
Tightly holding on to the broom, he took a few steps backwards again before turning to make a run for the dining room. He shouldered through the double doors and jumped over the front counter, sliding over it. As soon as his feet touched the floor he looked back into the kitchen through the small order window, but didn’t see the creature where he’d left it. Tate looked back in front of him to be face-to-face with the slender monster again. It still had a hand reached out, as if he hadn’t just dodged and ran from the thing. This time it gripped his face by his jaw, holding him tightly as the entire diner shifted around him. He could feel the floor pull away from his feet as he watched everything turn on its side. Like someone had just lifted the entire building and tilted it. This time he dropped the broom, straining to look down as he watched it fall. The checkered floor that had once been under his feet appeared to stretch onward, waving as it went, looking like a slide that ended in a dark abyss.
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“We all fall down… annyeonghi gaseyo.”
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Hearing it speak Korean somehow frightened Tate even more. He felt like the creature was rooting around inside his head, plucking out information about him. What unnerved him more was what it had said. What did it mean by “we all fall down”? He hardly had time to ponder before the creature simply let go, dropping him.
The descent downwards was more like a slide. Tate tried grasping at what had been the floor just moments before, watching as the black and white squares changed shapes and he continued to slide towards the abyss below him. Before he knew it the room shifted again and his feet hit the ground, causing him to stumble forward and his face to land squarely against a hard chest.
Pulling himself back almost made him fall, but he wasn’t even sure if he was actually standing anymore. The person standing in front of him nearly made him jump out of his skin. Tall and tanned, the short-cut brunette hair spiked up in the front, that stupid football varsity jacket that he wore everywhere — it was uncanny. Giovanni was standing there, but the diner behind him was swirling around just like it had with the creature before. It looked like Gio, it felt like Gio… it even smelled like Gio’s way-too-expensive cologne. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, one eyebrow cocked up, looking down at Tate.
“So this is also what it fears? Another betrayal.” Fuck, it even sounded like Gio. If he ran into this out in the street he would think it was absolutely his former friend. “No, not just another betrayal… You think I’ll see you for the piece of shit you really are. Dirty and pathetic, just like the rest of your family.”
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“You’re not real.” This was the first time Tate had actually spoken to the thing. “Gio would never say anything like that to me.” His hands balled up into fists at his sides as he glared up at the thing that’d taken on the identity of Gio.
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It laughed, exactly how Gio laughed. That breathy little chuckle, looking down at his feet and then back up at Tate. Same mannerisms, down perfectly. “Wouldn’t he? You really thought someone like me could ever look at someone like you and think, huh, I’ve fallen in love with that.” It leaned down until the face of his former friend was directly in front of Tate’s own face. “Your selfish feelings are what ruined our friendship, not mine. Way to go, fucking idiot. Just like Walter.”
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“Shut up!” Tate swung, his fist connecting with something. He felt bone and cartilage behind flesh against his knuckles, and he didn’t hold back. He aimed for the nose, hitting so hard he knocked the creature in front of him backwards and square onto whatever ass it had.
Tate reached down and grabbed the collar of that varsity jacket, yanking him back up just to swing down with his other fist and hit him again. He kept punching, not letting up until he heard coughing and wheezing. It didn’t sound like Gio anymore. Not even realizing he’d closed his eyes, Tate opened them and immediately gasped at the horror he saw. He let go of the collar of a white crop top, looking down at the ginger locks of his little sister.
Her face was swollen, bloodied, and already bruised. Nose broken, teeth broken, and tears streaming down her cheeks. The last time he’d seen her in a similar situation was after she took over for him. He thought he was retired from the crime fighting life, then she’d nearly died trying to do it all by herself. It had been the final straw for him, and he’d been so protective of her ever since. Looking down at his own hands revealed that he had, in fact, done the damage to her. He took a step towards her and she recoiled, scooting backwards quickly.
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“I-, I just wanted to… to come check on you.” Tana’s words slurred as she tried to properly speak. Tate looked around him, seeing the diner was a wreck. “Wh-, Tay, why did you attack me?”
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“This… this isn’t real.” Tate reached up and rubbed at his face, like he was trying to wake himself up. When he opened his eyes again, Tana was no longer on the floor. Now she was standing in front of him, and she glared at him. Still bloodied, but no longer looking terrified.
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“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT US!”
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The difference between Tate and Tana’s powers were simple: she could hit much harder but exhausted herself much quicker. There had only been a couple of times that he’d taken a powered punch from his sister, but each time she’d nearly put him through a wall. Tate didn’t have enough time to put his arms up to block her hit. Her glowing red fist slammed right into the middle of his chest and sent her brother flying across the diner.
Nothing stopped him. No wall, no floor, and no object. When he realized that he was still going, Tate opened his eyes. Again, he was falling. No floor under him, but the diner just seemed to stretch on. He didn’t see it, but Tate could hear gunshots and screams. His little siblings and mother were shouting his name, crying out for him to help them, but he couldn’t see them anywhere at all. Like the voices were swirling around, pulling him downwards into a dark drain. Covering his ears didn’t help, it only made them louder.
Once his feet touched the floor again, he looked around. The diner was empty and darker than it originally was. The tingle at the base of his skull told him he still wasn’t alone. It caused every hair on his arms to stand up as chills rolled down his body. Turning around once again revealed himself, staring right back. He couldn’t figure out what was going on, but with the way everything behind this version of himself in front of him swirled, Tate would put money on it being the same creature still. He reached out and paused when the version of himself mimicked the movement. It was like a mirrored image of himself.
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“Just like your father.”
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The voice was a whisper over his shoulder. He looked back and saw nothing, but looking forward again left him staring at Walter. Tate noticed the same hand was still outstretched, and when he lowered it the thing that was supposed to be his father did the same. He raised his hand and Walter mimicked him, insinuating that this was still supposed to be Tate standing in front of himself.
“This is its fate.” The creature from before appeared behind Walter, reaching out with a spindly hand and resting it on his shoulder. Tate could feel it on his own shoulder, but when he looked nothing was there. “Does it see?” In a flash all of Tate’s siblings were lying on the floor, dead. Riddled with bullets and there was a gun in his hands. Walter was still standing in front of him, smiling.
Again, Tate could hear all the voices. Shouting his name and crying. He could hear his mother screaming why, Gio telling him it was all his fault, and Walter telling him he was so proud. Tate closed his eyes tightly and covered his ears, trying to block it all out, but it only continued to get louder. He could feel a pressure building inside him that just needed to get out. He kept repeating that this wasn’t real, but eventually he couldn’t even hear himself. All in one giant surge he let it out.
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“Shut the fuck up!” Tate shouted, dropping his hands from his ears and to his sides. A burst of blue energy, like a shockwave with Tate at the center of it, shot out. It hit the bodies of his siblings, Walter, Gio, and the stitched-face man. They all faded away, almost like they disintegrated from the force of the impact. Once he opened his eyes again he noticed everything was exactly the way it had been before he saw the stitched-faced man. Billie Jean was still playing on the jukebox, the broom was still in his hands, and he was still standing in the middle of the kitchen.
Unsure if he had a mental break or if he’d just encountered nightmares embodied, Tate knew one thing for sure. He’d never get a single night of fucking normalcy again in his life. If only the poor boy knew just how right he was. This was the first time he’d encountered the creature known as Nightmare, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
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