Eight's Apartment

It was yet another dream where the doorman opened their eyes to the same bleak walls with the same rectangular wooden table in front of them. Dried blood smeared the floors and painted the bottom half of the already depressing walls. They figured it was time for yet another game of cards with the Clown that always only ever appeared in their dreams, except…

The wooden seat before them was completely empty. No big guy wearing a jumpsuit and a maniacal toothy smile on his face while raving about the rules of the game just in case they had forgotten. But this was clearly the same room where every single card game with the Clown had been in.

Could he be teleporting between dreams? Perhaps forgot it had sent them there that night by accident? It was too… unlikely, even for the Unlikely Clown that the poster had warned him about.

Finally, a random door just appeared on the wall in the middle of the doorman's musings and in came the Clown that had been meeting them so consistently and deliberately before, except… What is he wearing? Their cheeks flushed red as their eyes travelled down the huge figure of the dream entity with his large tummy bulging out and the pale skin visible in spite of the tank top he was wearing that barely contained his massive chest. The cherry on top ---or rather, worn on his bottom half--- was the skintight red pants that had gambling motifs on it such as the lucky number '777', a pinball roulette, dice, chips, and playing cards. Their mind began to wonder towards what kind of shoes ---if they were even shoes at all--- the Clown was wearing and it almost made the doorman snort and dug himself an early grave by insulting a possibly terrestrial being.

"You're late," the doorman had to basically force the rest of the words out of their throat but they continued on, "and you look… tired."

Tired was one way to put it. Unlikely didn't have one of his usual crazed smiles, in fact, he looked more like the grumpy balding neighbor on the first floor than himself.

"It's because you humans like to sleep so much," Unlikely yawned and sat down in his chair before stretching his arms. The sight was enough to make even a trained doorman blush. "I wanted to try being in the same sleep cycle as you humans and this dream woke me up."

The doorman crossed their arms, "Aren't you an all-powerful being if you can appear in people's dreams? Why would you need sleep?"

"I said…" Unlikely groaned as he was placing the cards down.

They watched as Unlikely almost toppled over the table while blinking himself awake and sighed. It was far too cute to actually mind. When the cards were finally shuffled and the game was set up, they just quieted down and watched Unlikely as it went on with some major hiccups.

For one, the back of the cards in his hands were mostly upside down. Second, he kept blinking in and out of sleep like the milkman from the third floor during ID checking. Third, he would put down a card with a too low number when he still had a lot of cards to spare. And fourth and finally, he didn't make that cute pouty face of his that he usually did when he had to take a +2 or grab a card from the deck.

It was endearing, to say the least, seeing this usually scary godlike entity act like your typical middle-aged man coming home from his nine-to-five. And it wasn't like the doorman was faring too well in this game either, even with their opponent at an obvious disadvantage because of their doziness, they still couldn't help but make crucial mistakes that came to bite them in the ass and make them lose the game. Oh well, that staring contest they had with the massive honkeroos was worth it.

When they looked up, they had expected the Clown to look at them with those hungry eyes intending to eat them whole and spit them back out of the 'nightmare' (although, for them, this sight was actually a dream) they were having. Instead, what they got was the adorable sight of the entity in front of them; its eyes closed and drooling off with its head to the side.

The cards laid forgotten on the wooden table and no one bothered to pick it up for at least a few more hours.

Unlikely decided today was a day for some clowning around with his favorite human, John Doe, or, as he simply liked to call him:

"ӨΉΉ, DΛЯᄂIПG!"

The large entity exited the portal he had conjured in thin air and stepped onto the old wooden floors (that somehow did not creak or break under his weight) of John's base. It was underground so the air was stuffy and the room was hot, but it didn't bother him in the slightest bit. The one thing that was simply on his mind was to find his human and see what he was doing, maybe even mess with him around a little.

His steps were surprisingly light and quiet as he traversed the secret base and its almost monotonous hallways that had several papers pinned to it in no particular order nor in a cleanly manner. From the corner of his eyes, Unlikely could see drawings of the D.D.D. logo streaked in red and with the same words written under repeated for each one with the words 'DON'T TRUST THEM'.

Looks like someone was going through a manic episode. Unlikely joked in his mind and gave himself a literal slap on the knee. That was when he caught sight of the human's most probably recent drawings which were actually colored in something that wasn't just red ink. Well, most of it were actually pencil sketches --- each one noticeably improved from the last. But most importantly, the subject of these drawings --- they were all him.

Ooh, I look rather pulchritudinous in these ones. Unlikely thought as he got up close to the ones with his face drawn in multiple different angles. One with him front-facing honking his own nose, another of him in a side-profile also honking his nose, and the last one is a 3/4th of him, again, honking his own nose, this time with an onomatopoeia written next to it like a comic strip of a 'honk!'. Darling really likes me honkin' my own nose, eh? I suppose it is rather honk-worthy.

When he turned his head to the side to peer at a doorway that was practically spilling out white light from the inside. Unlikely figured that the human clown finally 'changed the worn out light bulb' that he had written down on his 'to-do list' which it interpreted as a checklist of sorts for fun things to do. Humans and their funny little hobbies, he thought and strode in the direction of his most wanted human.

At the doorway, he paused to watch from a distance as he curiously observed the redhead man sitting on the couch with his back facing him. He looked like he was busy doing something and when Unlikely flitted its gaze around the room, it saw his mask merely laying on top of a desk drawer. Curious, Unlikely took several more steps forward until he was standing behind an oblivious John Doe who was sketching on a clipboard something very… Unlikely.

It was a fullbody sketch of him in his usual clown suit and John was still sketching his face and a party hat that Unlikely never considered wearing before but does look pretty dapper on him in this art.

Unlikely couldn't contain himself anymore and leaned over the couch, still towering wide over John Doe, to peer over the entire art.

"Well, what do we have 'ere?"

Unlikely's voice rang in John's ear with a low chuckle, but it didn't deter him from drawing in the slightest. When he finished lining the sketch, only then did he actually reply, "…Do you like it?" John set down his pen and displayed the drawing at an angle so that Unlikely could see the full drawing.

"Like it? IƬ'Ƨ FΛПƬΛBЦᄂӨЦƧ, DΛЯᄂIПG!" John didn't know what that garbled mess of Nightmare speech meant but he smiled subtly and started work on yet another sketch by ripping the paper off carefully and slowly before setting it aside. Unlikely smiled, placed his elbows on the couch, and rested his cheeks in both hands as he watched this amusing human draw more 'art' of him. "You're doin' a pretty good job, dearie. Really makin' good on that contract, eh?"

"It's no trouble, I mean, your features are…" He drew an oval that looked like it was going to be Unlikely's nose and paused. A tint of pink dusted his cheeks but he didn't even notice it as he continued penciling another drawing of Unlikely. "…simplistic. The D.D.D. has had a massive recruit of new doormans lately. I'm spreading the word about you so you can have more people to play with."

"Splendid! But I am curious, what's with the party hat from earlier, hon? Don't think you've ever seen me wear it before."

The color on John's cheeks deepened from a rosy pink to a shade of red. "It was practice, sir…"

"It paid off clownly then. Very pulchritudinous."

"…I suppose…" John went quiet, but Unlikely noticed the subtle tilt of the corner of his lips upwards which made him smile wider and watch in silence while his human drew, having forgotten what he had initially came here to do.

And when John accidentally drew a slightly lewder expression --- while absentmindedly letting his hand do the work --- of Unlikely with his tongue out and smirking, Unlikely arched a nonexistent brown by wrinkling its forehead instead and he quickly grabbed an eraser from the desk and erased it before drawing a new one. Unlikely stared at his face the entire time, but didn't find a drop in his earlier expression other than the slight quiver of his lips and the quick bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed something down.

Unlikely bared his teeth and continued staring at the side of John's face with a glint in his usually void eyes. Humans truly are amusing creatures.

It was the perfect day for a picnic.

The sun beamed radiantly but it wasn't too hot thanks to the cooling wind breezing past the hilltop. It made the trees sway along with the pollens that scattered to the wind, and even the grass beneath Edward's feet grooved with nature as he laid the picnic blanket on the ground methodically.

When the plaid red fabric was laid down in full, Steven placed the picnic basket down and sat on the middle of the blanket to keep it weighed down in place. Edward's eyes trailed over Steven curiously---he wore a dark green flannel shirt tucked into black jeans. Casual and airy, perfect for a cool Summer day. It flashed in his mind that he never actually saw Steven outside of his work uniform before and his cheeks warmed while thinking of how well the pilot actually cleaned up for their… well, a hangout? A date? Whichever it was, just the thought of being there with Steven made his heart a-flutter for reasons that he could not quite understand yet.

"All good?" Steven asked and looked up at him --- or at least, Edward assumed he was looking at him with his head tilted towards him, he couldn't really quite tell from his sunglasses perched on his nose and covering his eyes. Edward nodded enthusiastically and his own (prescription) glasses slide down his nose and he had to thumb it back in place before smiling awkwardly.

Steven smiled and pat the space in front of him. Edward stared at it for a few long seconds before blinking in realization and quickly sitting down. He looked down at his outfit and realized that besides the beige cargo pants he was wearing, he practically had matching flannel shirts with Steven --- except his was blue with white stripes.

"You're sweating bullets there, Ed, something the matter?" Steven asked, oblivious to the way his friend's cheeks had flushed a rosy pink (though that was probably also due to the shades he was wearing, it probably made everything look darker than it was in front of him).

"I, I'm fine! A doctor like me musn't- ahem wouldn't go to these sort of hangouts if I wasn't fine. I wouldn't, wouldn't want you to get sick after all!"

Steven snorted, "Pfft, you don't have to overexplain yourself. Here." He grabbed something from his pockets and handed it over to Edward---it was a white handkerchief with sewed-on floral detailing in the sides. When Edward took it, it almost slipped through his fingers but he caught it between his pointer finger and thumb in the nick of time. "Careful there, butterfingers."

Edward smiled sheepishly at the nickname and folded it over in his hands. "That's not what I wanted you to do with it, but you do you." He didn't hear him at first, he was too preoccupied with reading the initials sewed in the middle. A. R. That wasn't Steven's initial at all, and neither was it his dad's. From what Steven told him, his first name was Mclooy, and that didn't start with an A.

Was it a woman's? But no girl visited Steven at the hospital when he first got into that nasty accident… Or maybe she was just preoccupied and couldn't make it in time?

Edward's mind rushed with one thought after another and his mouth flubbed over the words he meant to say, "Is- is- uh- this- um… is it-"

"Breathe, doctor, that's what you told me before. Come on, I'll guide you through it." Edward felt a little silly getting his, well, former patient to do it for him but he let himself be guided through the motions anyway. "Okay, one…" Deep breaths. "Two…" Inhale. "Three…" He let out a long exhale and Steven gave him a light pat on the back as he got his bearings. "That was a big one. You sure this weather isn't too windy?"

Edward chuckled hoarsely at his friend's joke and smiled that awkward smile Steven always liked to see. Steven smiled back and slid his hand off his back. "What's got you so anxious all of a sudden?"

"It's… Well, nothing, really." Edward straightened his back. "I'm… just wondering." He pointed towards the initials on the handkerchief Steven handed to him.

Steven's smile softened and he tilted his head towards the handkerchief in Edward's hands. From this angle, he could see the shine in his pupil. "Alissa Rudboys." Edward perked up. "That was my mother's handkerchief."

"Oh! I'm sorry for that, she must have been a lovely woman…"

"She died a long time ago, to a doppelganger." Steven leaned back and Edward almost didn't catch the way the light in his eyes dimmed despite the noon sun's rays. "It's kind of why I do this job. You know, as a fighter pilot who's assassinating doppels."

"I understand… It's a way of avenging her, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it seems so," Steven smiled wider, but it came out strained. "And also for my dad. He's old and a stubborn fool. That day I got into an accident, I fought a doppel that was coming for him." Edward nodded understandingly. "Getting real off-topic here, but I guess I just wanted to finally tell you the reason why and not just how it happened."

Edward placed a hand on Steven's arm as he raised it to scratch at the back of his neck. "You're not the only one who wants their loved ones to stay safe, Steven. So please, take care of yourself."

Steven's cheeks suddenly felt warm and he stared down at Edward who was looking at him with wide blue eyes. "…I will."

Edward's face lit up and he realized that his hand was still on Steven's arm so he slowly put it away with a small smile. "Oh- uh…"

While the doctor fumbled for something to say, Steven already knew his line. "The sandwiches are getting stale, how about we eat them already?"

Edward blinked rapidly and he looked at the picnic basket that had gone untouched for minutes now.

He nodded shyly, "Yes… Let's!"

Perhaps it was cruel, and perhaps it was unfair. But when has the world ever been fair?

Class disparities, racial prejudice, inequal opportunities for one sex over the other. These were all crimes that people as a collective accepted, yet somehow an old man who didn't even want to be in this line of work just trying to make ends meet for him and his wife were far too cruel and unforgivable.

Public Enraged After Recent Murder Case Concludes Beloved Celebrity, Cassandra Hearts, Guilty Despite Lack of Conclusive Evidence

"What a crude headline." I scoffed and adjusted the monocle on my left eye. People liked to make a big deal out of anything that concerned a celebrity. But in all honesty, she had it coming to her. Her title as the 'People's Celebrity' was a joke. All that support and in the end, a powerful competitor in the field swept in and wanted her ruined, so of course they offered a hefty sum for me to turn the tides in their favor. At the sight of that much money, who wouldn't take the offer?

Certainly not me. I'll take every cent I can out of something if it meant pleasing my dear wife. I've already curbed her expectations by having to compromise for this shabby middleclass apartment after the number of cases sent to my firm plummeted. She has already called me a failure of a husband, I musn't upset her any longer, lest I wanted a divorce from my dear Lyn.

The rest of the tabloid --- don't miscontrue me, I rarely ever read this sort of inferior newspaper; I only buy them to… observe the common folks' opinions --- read as sensationalized rubbish. A bunch of flowery words arranged in a bouquet wholeheartedly addressed to the Miss Cassandra Hearts herself while the rest were just straight-up rubbish regarding the court trial and how 'unfair' it was.

The article was so boring that the only column that truly caught my eye and didn't make me want to roll them to the back of my head was a section dedicated to an interview session with a fan.

Or so they call themselves, truly, how many uncultured swine have I seen claim being an admirer of someone only for them to have never actually seen or read anything from that someone? Common folks truly are just bandwagon hoppers. The thought of these people who barely knew the person they were defending made my head throb with a migraine. How pathetic can they get?

…

"How-" My vision blurred at the edges upon my eyes opening wide, darkness eating at the corner of my eyes as my fingers struggled to stay gripping the newspaper with shaky hands. Both my name and my contact address had been written down crudely on the corner of the newspaper under a dog ear fold that I didn't notice there before. Under it was a text in all caps and red ink---HIS FAULT.

As if it sensed my fear, the telephone on the table began ringing loudly. I would have normally taken it instantly, but knowing what kind of words would likely come and the possibility of someone tracking my address through a phone call were, I froze in place, unable to move to decline nor answer it.

"Ugh, what's with all this ringing?" The voice of my beloved calls out to me, snapping me out of my trance for a moment. I scooted back on the couch, half tumbling and falling right over while sitting atop it shakily. "Answer your damn phone, Alf!"

Oh no… Oh no, no, no, no!

I couldn't! I just couldn't! They might find out my address by locating the signals of my telephone or the exact sound of the construction that was going on behind our apartment. And then they'll find me and my wife-! And then-! And then-

"They're going to-! They're- they're coming for me… I can't- They're going to burn me ---us--- alive, Lyn!"

"Have you gone mad?" I shook my head rapidly. The only mad ones here would be the townsfolk who now probably wanted my head! "Fine, I'll answer it."

"Don't! LYN!"

But I was too late, she was already answering the phone before I could tackle her to the ground and I was left suspended in mid-air before crashing onto the ground beside her feet as she muttered words to the caller. She was calm, way too calm for a woman who was dealing with a probable death threat.

Maybe, if it's Lyn, I don't have to-

"It's another client." Rafttellyn graciously handed the phone to me and I stared at it for a while then up at her. She looked down at me with those cold, violet eyes and I immediately picked it up from her stubby hands before putting it against my ear.

"Yes, yes, hello…?"

When the caller's voice came back, I heaved a sigh of relief and gave Rafttellyn a grateful nod. She didn't nod back or anything, but I suppose a rational and calm woman like her need not for such mundane customs. The call went on for an hour or two and my nerves relaxed slowly as time passed that my paranoia hadn't come to chomp down on me like a blasted alligator.

Finally, when it was all over, I placed the phone back in its place and adjusted my monocle once more.

"What were you so worked up about earlier?"

"Oh, uh- err, nothing! Dear! Just… a screw loose, I suppose, is what you would call it."

"Indeed." Lyn rolled her eyes and left too quickly.

I sighed, but I didn't actually mind it. I'm the lucky one in our relationship so I should treasure her.

As for this witchhunter… I suppose I'll ask around for anyone who might know a thing or two.

It was a hot summer day.

And coincidentally, the D.D.D. issued a notice that day that no person is allowed to leave for leisure. That meant no "grocery shopping" or visiting parents. The only ones who were allowed to go outside were neighbors who had work to do. And for Rafttellyn, who always went outside under the pretense of 'visiting her parents' (when really, all she did was go to the mall and spend her husband's money), the notice pinned on the wall next to the glass partition of the doorman's office only further added to her irritation alongside her blood boiling from the heat.

Damn Alf for getting us this apartment, Rafttellyn thought to herself and narrowed her eyes. There's barely any working ventilation in here!

The doorman cleared his throat, "Ahem, well?"

"I…" Rafttellyn began, racking her head for any excuse she might find. "I'm… going to be an assistant to my husband! Yes, he asked me to come review his papers for him. That's work, isn't it?"

"…My files doesn't say anything about you having a job that involves helping with documents."

"How unnecessary! Alf Cappuccin is my husband and I simply want to help him as his dear wife!"

"Right… Technically, according to the rules they gave me for this job, that still falls under leisure activities since you don't have a listed job."

"Then why don't you list it if you want it to be on the list so much?"

The glass was far too blurry and a haze on her side of the window to determine what the doorman looked like, let alone the kind of expression he must have been making at that moment as the silence stretched on.

"I'm afraid you'd have to take that up to the D.D.D. employees with the proper documents stating your job title, position, and so on and so forth."

Rafttellyn gripped her handbag's handle a little tighter. "And how long is the process of approval supposed to take?"

"A month is ideal, but usually, they take up to nine months, ma'am."

"Nine months?! I might as well get a pregnant and have a baby in that duration!"

"Please don't," the doorman sighed. "The apartment is loud as it already is. I can barely even play my video games in peace in this prison cell they call an office."

Rafttellyn blinked, incredulous. What even was a 'video game'? And why would it take that long for a job update to be approved of? Was this man just messing with her?

"Alright then, we're done here."

Before Rafttellyn could open her mouth and object, however, the doorman said something into his receiver-looking object that Rafttellyn couldn't hear from her side of the partition. All of a sudden, the metal door to the outside opened and Margarette stepped in with her sewing kit in one arm and a bag of groceries on the other. Rafttellyn glared at the blurry image of the doorman from her periphery before rushing back inside and climbed up towards the third floor.

Rafttellyn grabbed the second floor's railings hard as she stopped in the middle of her climb from exhaustion, clutching her stomach and breathing hard.

That bastard… How dare he open the doors while I'm still in the lobby?! If it turned out to be a doppelganger, I would have been dead by now! Rafttellyn clenched her teeth and balled her other hand up into a fist while her other hand scratched at the wooden rails with her long nails. I'm going to report that man… I'm going to report that man and make sure he regrets crossing paths with me! That incompetent fool…

"Raftty?"

Rafttellyn blinked and her breath somewhat calmed down as she turned her head in the direction of the familiar high-pitched voice. What she saw almost knocked the wind out of her lungs and her cheeks, too, have warmed from something that wasn't just the heat permeating the stuffy apartment she lived in. It was none other than Margarette Bubbles, her bubbly second-floor neighbor who made her pretty dresses and all the while complimented her better than any man has had before.

But it wasn't her usual look at all, no. She was wearing a sleeveless v-neck yellow dress with a white collar and small orange polka dots dotting it all over and her usually wild curly hair was tied into a large curly bun on top of her head. Like usual, she wore the same, larger version of her studded golden earrings, and the pearl necklace that still made Rafttellyn's heart ache in her chest just by looking at it.

"You're looking kinda funny at me!" Margarette exclaimed with one of her trademark smiles that could light up an entire room --- or even someone's heart. There was an obvious red tint to her cheeks, but in Rafttellyn's hurry to shake off her expression at the thought of what her face must have looked like in that moment made her miss it. "Are you alright, Raftty?"

Rafttellyn scoffed and hid one side of her face away from her, "I'm fine. Other than the fact that that stupid doorman attempted to murder me by letting someone in while I was still in the lobby, I still have the hope of getting his life ruined, I suppose."

"Oh! That doesn't sound right!" Rafttellyn rolled her eyes, of course it didn't sound right. It was downright unprofessional and petty of the doorman. Still, she couldn't really quite manifest the same anger she was experiencing just moments prior to this encounter with Margarette around. And for whatever reason, her heart had started to pound in her chest as well, begging to be let out by its usually coldhearted mistress. Must be the heat…

"It doesn't. No one in their right mind would attempt to murder someone just for wanting to go to the mall! That's why I'm going to report his incompetence to the higher-ups as soon as I get to my room."

Margarette began to fidget with the plastic handle of her bag of groceries. When Rafttellyn looked down at it, she noticed it contained several lemons, eggs, and several packaged biscuits that she remembered liking from Margarette's tray of snacks.

"You're not in a hurry, are you?"

"I sort of am, Marge," Rafttellyn grumbled something about the stupid doorman once more before continuing. "That man needs to pay for his cruelty. If he did that to me, surely he'll do it to everyone else!"

"He seemed nice," Margarette countered but that earned her a scowl from Rafttellyn so she averted her eyes. "I, I was hoping we could have a picnic! In my room!"

"A picnic? In this stuffy apartment? There's not even any greenery outside our windows to simulate the feeling of actually having a picnic!"

"Lois gave me enough money so we can use the air conditioning!" Rafttellyn narrowed her eyes at this poor, sweet naive woman most likely getting tricked into yet another favor for that nasty witch, but she didn't dare interrupt (Margarette was one of her only exceptions for that). "Plus, I'm going to make lemonades! You like lemonades, Raftty!"

Rafttelyn scrunched her nose and wrinkled her forehead as a breath hitched in her throat before she released it with a sigh and felt for her own pulse that was growing rapid by the minute by grabbing it in her hand and thumbing her pulse point under the glove. It had been her way of calming herself down around the enigma that was Margarette Bubbles; a woman who had always been able to knock her walls down and simultaneously make her feel like she was on top of the world.

"…Fine, but don't miscontrue me. I only like the lemonades you make. The ones they sell out there are cheap and tacky, just like the brats who used to sell them in cardboard stands."

Margarette's working eye lit up and --- Rafttellyn hadn't thought it possible before but --- she smiled noticeably wider than she did usually. The folds under her eyes creased and she looked like a goofy cartoon character from one of the cartoon shows she used to watch as a kid as guilty pleasure.

What a silly woman.

"Right then! I'll go make us some lemonades!"

And as Rafttellyn followed suit, observing how her bun bounced up and down like the woman in front of her did with every step, she concluded that something other than the summer heat was actually making the apartments feel hotter.

I'm beautiful.

I have been beautiful.

I turned heads everywhere I went and I even received an offer to become a model. Why can't anyone see that I'm still that girl?

Is it because of this stupid double chin that almost got botched? Well at least I'm not as short and stubby as that stupid Lois! She couldn't even find the right man to marry. He's already balding and works as a public accountant.

At least my pathetic coward of a husband is able to do right by our finances and pays for everything I could ever want for. Well… That has been declining lately, but so what? I still live in luxury, and he's stupid enough to lend me access to all his bank accounts. If we ran out of money, surely he can just ask for more from his actually competent brothers.

And those bimbo twins on the first floor aren't any better. They're only popular because of their identical twins gimmick. If one or the other didn't exist or disappeared, no one would care about them. They look far too basic and they're not even that pretty.

That Mia girl is wasting her years and beauty trying to teach dumb little brats. I reckon in only 5 years or less, she'd have wrinkles as prominent as that little brat's eyebags. That little Mikaelys's mother looks too much like a pig and she got pregnant out of wedlock like one too. Ugh, why do I even compare myself to such a despicably ugly woman? It's unfair to a beauty such as myself.

And, well, Margarette…

…

No matter.

I'm still the most beautiful woman in this apartment and no other woman can compare.

Shall I buy a new ointment one of these days for my pores?