#twinfic

I'm so glad you enjoy it. I'm so glad you love my tiny little son! his characterisation is deeply important to me, especially because i wanted to compare and contrast Izuku as much as possible, and giving into the parallels between AFO and Yoichi. Mikumo came to me more or less formed, and though his character evolved over the course of writing the first work, since I kept the vast majority of it unpublished until it was mostly done, I was able to keep him very consistent!

For the story I'm telling, it felt absolutely crucial that Mikumo and Izuku are and are not the same in important ways. Mikumo is a coward - that's his thing - and Izuku is heroic. But Mikumo still wants to help people, and in the very first chapter, he nearly helps Bakugou from the sludge villain, and it's only his fear of his father and All Might that holds him back. Izuku, by contrast, is heroic and helps people to a fault. There is nothing that holds him back - Mikumo considers Izuku to be the better of the two, while Izuku considers Mikumo to be the better, because despite every ounce of fear that undercut every move Mikumo made in the fist work, he still helped.

He helped at Hosu, and fought against one of his own mentors, and was physically punished for it. He tried to help Eri, and Shigaraki nearly killed him for it - and he did save Eri, hoping it would kill him, because he was just so tired. He has really strong morals, paralleling him with Shigaraki, who grew up in functionally the same world as him, and still strives to help people even if it's going to hurt him.

Just like Izuku.

I think his quirk was truly my favourite way of expressing Mikumo on a kind of meta level? His quirk is - anything. Quirk Creation. He can do absolutely anything he wants. But he uses inefficient quirks, resorts to the same quirks over and over again - he could just any quirk that would crush 1A in training, but he chooses not to. He doesn't have the strength to, sure, but he has no genuine desire to. I love making theoretically overpowered characters that get nerfed, and while he's nerfed by his health at the moment, in the future when that's resolved (because of course, it will be), he's going to be "nerfed" by his own pure disinterest in heroics.

I think that's a unique angle that people don't go for often in fics, or stories in general - if there's someone who's annoyed by or resentful of the system, e.g., a tragically overpowered hero that doesn't care about being a hero, but soon learns that it's their Obligation and Right to do it, and then come to enjoy it. Or they have a bitter arc, that spirals into becoming an antagonist, you know? Or it's an alternative story about how they use their powers for that same job in a different way, for example, think the Support Course/Inventor Izuku AUs. I wanted to write a character that - could. The equivalent of like, Momo still has her creation quirk, but she doesn't want to be a hero, or even hero adjacent. Maybe she just wants to work in accounting or HR or something. I plan to give Mikumo a job where his quirk will come in very useful, but isn't at all a prerequisite or something that'll make him exceptional at it. More than that, Mikumo's attitude towards quirks, both in general and his own, is that they're cool, but don't really make much difference. He likes knowing how they work, likes to play with quirks himself if he ever gets the chance to, but he's not driven by a desire to "do cool things" or "have crazy strong powers". He doesn't care about a cool quirk to give him a fighting advantage. He doesn't even want one. He doesn't care about it, accepts that it's a facet of the world he lives in, but wants no part in upholding it - it just completely doesn't interest him.

Mikumo is a coward - but he's also a pacifist. And I mean that he's a coward insofar as, he's scared of doing this things, deathly scared, and he does them anyway, because it's right. But he doesn't fight unless he's furious - a la Overhaul - and his actions are almost always in self-defence. Even his knife, that he carried everywhere, was exclusively used for his own protection (that i have a backstory half written for but it's really dark so i don't know if i'd ever post it). When he felt threatened by Izuku, he threatened him with the knife, even when he was fighting against Stain, he chose to use a barrier quirk over an offensive quirk. Mikumo isn't exactly a tank, but he's a defender. He's the barrier. The only reason he went back to the League during and after Kamino is because he believed Izuku was dead - he believed that his actions had gotten his brother killed, and he now had an obligation to stop the worst as best he can.

Izuku, by contrast is full-force, all in, 100% OFA from the get go as much as humanly possible. That scares Mikumo as much as it inspires him - Mikumo is terrified of their father, and Izuku reminds him of AFO a lot. On purpose, even. Izuku is possessive and righteous, and encapsulates everything that AFO had wanted in a son, and if Izuku hadn't been born quirkless, had been born with Mikumo's quirk, AFO would have had his ideal child - but would Izuku have withstood AFO's manipulation to hating heroes? Debatable. Mikumo was largely indifferent, and didn't hate them - he was just fed AFO propaganda that heroes hated him, specifically. That heroes wanted him, specifically, dead, because he's AFO's son. Would the same fear have worked for Izuku? Who knows!

Mikumo has had a very sad, difficult life. There are those "Implied past non-con" tags on the works that readers probably figure out is part of his extreme aversion to touch, as well as the fact that his only reliable sources of physical contact include, in no particular order, his violently abusive father (physical and emotional), his "brother figure" shigaraki, who is incredibly unstable, noumu that he trains with, the doctor, and kurogiri. At least Kurogiri was not explicitly hurting Mikumo. Like so many kids in bad situations, he just wants to do better, and he wants to be safe, feel safe, and have people who care.

and he has that, now, but Mikumo is under the impression that he's on a time limit, and it's running out fast. He needs people to think he's okay, so that he doesn't die a more painful death because they try to help him, and he also doesn't trust anybody enough to actually tell them the truth. Izuku trusts them, but he doesn't really know that he can. A lot of them, rightfully, don't trust him - barely reformed villain, caught stealing knives within days? Doesn't know how to talk to other students without unwittingly dropping weirdly loaded comments about his trauma?

He's suicidal, a little more passively so now, but he's content to just enjoy some nice things while he gets to have them - good food, a warm bed, warm clothes (and that's another fun parallel - they both have shockingly bad taste in clothes and think the other's is worse), and at least some people who don't outright hate him. That's as good as Mikumo can hope for, and it's better than the life he had.

Things will get better for him. He'll get happier, he'll feel safe, he'll have a world that wants him, and he'll be free to navigate it however he pleases - and he'll always have Izuku with him, too.

I knew what those kids said were lies—I knew my mom was my real mom even if she didn’t give birth to me. She had raised me ever since I was a baby and was the only family I had ever known. I knew she loved me, she told me so all the time. 

But I always had a nagging feeling that some part of the taunts were true. What if my birth parents really didn’t want me? What if they saw me and decided after a month or two that I wasn’t what they wanted, or that I wasn’t good enough, or worse, that they just didn’t love me? 

I always knew that I was adopted. My mom, Hannah, always told me that my birth parents did love me, very much, but they just couldn’t take care of me. She said they didn’t want to give me up, but they knew I would have a better life with different parents. 

I tried to believe her, but as the years went by, the voices of all those mean kids constantly ringing in my ears made it pretty difficult to hold onto that hope.

But maybe she was right–my life with my mom was pretty good (not counting the constant bullying and strange, scary creatures that only I could see).

Oh yeah, I haven’t mentioned that yet. 

I’ve been this way ever since I can remember. The earliest memory I have is from when I was around three, playing in our backyard. I was creating a concoction of mud, grass, and seeds when I heard a loud noise coming from the roof. When I looked up, I saw, clear as day, a beautiful white horse with black-speckled wings sprouting out of its back, just looking at me. Next thing I knew, I was climbing up a tree in an attempt to get onto the roof, causing my mom to rush out from the house in a panic, pulling me out of the branches while I screamed and cried that I wanted to see the pony. My mom then said that there was no pony on the roof, but I knew she was wrong. 

And that was just the beginning. 

I didn't see them all the time, maybe once or twice every month or so. Despite the infrequency, the sightings never stopped and I eventually just got used to them, learning quickly to keep them to myself. I couldn’t even share what I had seen with my mom, who would just write them off as my imagination, and I got called crazy by the neighborhood kids one too many times. I thought that after years of seeing creatures that looked like they came out of a sci-fi movie would prepare me for anything, but I was wrong. 

It was a hot day in early June and the heatwaves bounced off the boiling pavement and played tricks on my eyes. I had lived in Tucson, Arizona, for fourteen years, my entire life, so you would think the 120 degree summer days wouldn’t phase me anymore, but they were still horrible. It was the kind of heat that sucked every bit of moisture out of you and dried out your lungs. It was unbearable. Still, it was home, and I was riding my beat-up bike back from my best friend’s house, who luckily lived in my neighborhood. At 5pm it was cooler than it had been in mid-afternoon when the sun was at its height, but it was still far from comfortable, and I could feel sweat begin to trickle down my back, the low sun blinding my eyes. 

‘Only a few more blocks’ I said to myself, trying desperately to pedal as fast as possible. I couldn’t see the road well because of the heatwaves and sun, which wouldn’t normally be a problem except when an old woman is standing on the sidewalk directly in my path, which just so happened to be the case. She seemed to appear out of nowhere, and I slammed on my brakes, turning my handle bars hard, causing metal to screech and my tires to skid along the sidewalk. I stopped inches from the grandmother, and when I finally got a look at her face, I wondered if I had ever seen someone who looked so old. 

“My my, going a bit fast, were we?” The lady’s voice was slow and gravelly, her dour tone matching the look on her face. She wore a brown dress that was almost as wrinkled as her skin. 

“Sorry, ma'am, I didn’t see you. The sun–” 

“Ah ah, we mustn't go blaming others for our shortcomings. Right, Andromeda?” 

I stared at the woman in shock–I was sure I had never seen her before, but somehow she knew my name. My real name. 

“Right, sorry.” I straightened my handle bars and told myself she was just a crazy snowbird neighbor who must've heard one of the rare times my mom called me by my full name. “I’d better get home.” The way she was looking at me was starting to make me uncomfortable, and a feeling like an itching started in the small of my back and somehow I knew it meant I needed to go.

To my surprise, she put a wrinkled, leathery hand on my handlebars and gripped tightly so that I couldn’t move them. 

“Oh, my dear,” the itching moved up my spine to the base of my neck, “it’s rude to rush off.” 

“My mom expects me home for dinner and I shouldn’t be late.” The old woman’s platitudes were starting to annoy me, and it showed in the tone of my voice. I attempted to make a break for it, but she held on, stopping the bike. She was surprisingly strong. 

“Andromeda Jackson,” My eyes went wide–I never used my birth surname, and there was no way one of my neighbors would know it. I began to freak out and that itching feeling was getting worse and something deep in my gut was telling me to get out of there. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go just yet. There’s something I still need to know.” 

It was then that my ride home went from bad to really bad. 

The woman changed before my eyes, sprouting large, brown, leathery wings from her back and growing talons from her hands. She looked like a terrifying cross between a very large bat and a very old woman. I was too scared to scream. 

The creature was so close I could feel it's horrible breath on my face, and then it swiped at me. I reacted quickly, diving onto the ground onto a strangers front yard, the rocks digging into my skin. I hoped whoever owned the house wasn’t home, and by the time I rolled over to look for the beast, it was on top of me and I was sure I was about to die. 

My mind went to my mom—my wonderful, hard-working, loving mom-–and a new energy surged through me. My fear and confusion met with my anger and determination and I could feel a tension building inside of me, threatening to bubble over and spill out. I felt a tug deep in my stomach right behind my belly-button, kind of like being on one of those drop rides at a carnival but 10x more intense and way sharper, and I let out a yell.

The monster started to laugh before both she and I were pelted with water that sprayed from an out-of-control hose that had been lying in the yard. The water was more intense than it should've been, like the water from a firehose, and there was a split second where I thought the spray should be hurting a lot more than it actually was. It was the creature’s turn to scream, and something about the spray of the water on my skin gave me the strength to shove it off of me and roll away. I scrambled to my feet and held my hands up defensively, now ready to fight. But the monster just glared at me and growled. 

“My master’s suspicions about you were correct, Andromeda Jackson.” she surveyed me uncomfortably. “He will be most displeased. You’re lucky my orders weren’t to kill you—this time.” With that, she beat her large bat wings and hovered a few feet in the air. “I’m sure we will meet again, young one.” And with a final large beat of her wings, she soared away, flying low over me and messing up my hair with her talons as they barely cleared the top of my head. 

I stood there in shock for a few moments before jumping back on my bike and racing home as fast as I could. I ran into the house breathless, my face red and sweaty, leaving my bike strewn on the rocks in my front yard instead of putting it away. My mom jumped up from where she sat by the fire—why she had a fire going in the middle of an Arizona summer I never knew—but as long as I could remember, there was always a fire going in the house. Whenever I asked about it when I was young, my mom would say something about how important the hearth was to the heart of the home , and eventually I just stopped asking questions. After fourteen years, I was used to it. 

“Angie!” It was clear she could see that something was wrong. “Did you fall off your bike? Have an accident?” 

I stood staring with wide eyes and slowly shook my head. What could I tell her? 

“I–” My mom moved to me with concern, her hand gently going to my forehead. I pulled back in pain as she touched me, and when I saw her hands, there was blood on her fingers. The monster must've scratched me when it flew away, and I didn’t even notice. 

“What happened, love?” 

“You wouldn’t believe me.” My voice was small and I barely recognized it as my own. 

“Trust me, I would.” Something in the way she was looking at me made me want to trust her—but how could I?

“I…I can’t explain it.” She nodded as if she understood, which I didn’t understand. 

“Come to the hearth, I’ll put on a kettle and fix you up.” Sitting by the fire and sipping tea was always moms way to make everything better. The last thing I wanted was to be any hotter, but I listened and moved toward the flames. Strangely, as I sat on the ledge, I didn’t feel any heat. I let my eyes get lost in the fire, allowing myself to be mesmerized by the dancing and flickering oranges and yellows, and for the briefest moment I could’ve sworn I saw red, glowing eyes and a kind face looking back at me, but when I shook my head and opened my eyes again, it was gone. Maybe my head was hurt worse than I thought. 

Soon enough, I had a mug in my hand and a bandage on my forehead. My mom sat down and looked again at the fire beside her. 

“Angie,” her voice was gentle, “you saw something you can’t explain, didnt you?” 

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on my ocean-blue mug. 

“Something like a monster?” 

“Yeah.” 

Instead of acting surprised, she just sighed. “I knew this day would come.” Her words finally made me turn my head and look at her. 

“What?” 

“It’s hard to explain, but you’re…different.” 

“Yeah, I’ve known that for a while.” Let me tell you, it didn't feel great to have the woman who raised you call you different. 

“No, I mean…” She rubbed at her temples, as if the words she was about to say gave her a headache. “You’re not like other kids, other people. You’re–you’re not mortal.” 

I stared at her, not understanding. “How is that possible? What do you mean?” 

“Listen, everything I’m about to tell you is about to sound completely insane, and you’re going to think I’m crazy. But it's all true, and you have to believe me.” 

“Okay mom.” 

“I need you to promise you’ll believe me.” She held out her pinky and I considered it for a while. If any other person did this, I would push their hand back at them. But this was my mom , and something inside whispered for me to trust her. 

“Okay, I promise.” I linked my pinky with her, and she relaxed. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so here I go—you’re a demigod.” 

“A demi-what?” 

“Demigod. It means you’re half-mortal, half-god.” 

“I know what it means, I’ve seen Hercules. I just didn’t know it was real .” 

“All the Greek myths are real. The gods, monsters, heroes. All of it.” I felt like my head was spinning, like my world was crumbling around me but also falling into place somehow. While everything was confusing, everything also was starting to make sense. 

“How do you know this?” I was gripping my mug so hard my fingers hurt, desperately trying to hold onto something solid. 

“That’s a long story,” she glanced nervously at the flames, “and I don’t know how long we have.” 

“Please, I need to know.” My mom sighed and then tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“Someday, dear. Soon. But for now, we must move quickly. Now that you know who you are, more monsters will come—at least that’s what she told me.” She stood up quickly. “You have to pack.” 

“Pack?” My heart began to race. 

“Yes, and quickly. There is only one place you can be safe now, and it's time to show you.” She offered her hand and I took it numbly. “Take only what you need.” My mom pushed me toward the hallway and I walked slowly to my room, feeling like everything was in slow motion. I let my fingers trace along the walls and I wondered absently if I would ever see them again. My entire life was just flipped upside down, and now I had to pack? I wanted to scream and cry. I heard my mom mumbling to the fireplace, as she often did, and for the first time in my life I truly wondered why. 

It didn’t take me long to pack my life into a suitcase and a backpack. I only took the essentials, as my mom said, which ended up being some clothes, shoes, toiletries, a few trinkets, my favorite books (reading could be difficult, so I tended to read the same ones over and over), and my ADHD meds. When I walked back to the main room, my mom looked like she had been crying, and my heart sank. 

“I’m ready.” For what? I didn’t know. She turned to me and smiled the way parents do when they know they won't see you for a while. A lump formed in my throat. 

“Look at you…all grown up.” She walked to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “The place you’re going to is called Camp Half Blood, you’ll be safe there. You can train and be with other kids who are just like you. They’ll explain everything else you need to know when you get there.” Her eyes were glistening and she pulled me into a tight hug. 

“Why are you talking like this is a goodbye? Aren't you coming, too?” 

“I can't, honey.” Her voice caught, “I’m not like you, although I can see more than most mortals. Even so—it’s against the rules. I’m sorry.” 

Now tears started filling my eyes. 

“I won’t go, then.” 

“Angie, you have to. You’re not safe here anymore.” She pulled away and cupped my face. “When I took you in all those years ago, I promised her I would keep you safe. If anything happened to you while you were under my care I’d never forgive myself.” Tears were now falling down her face, and I could feel the same wetness on my cheeks. “Please, do this for me. Be brave–we will see each other again.” Her eyes were glistening but her smile was warm. I could feel the hot tears running down my face as I looked into the eyes of the woman who raised me, the only person who had ever truly been there for me. The only person who loved me. 

And as much as it hurt, I knew I had to go. We had made a pinky promise to be honest, and if she said Camp Half Blood was the only place I’d be safe, then I trusted her. That tingling returned to the small of my back, and I knew that also somehow was telling me to go. 

“Okay.” I said finally, my voice shaky. “How do I get there?” 

My mom let out a sigh as relief flooded through her body. Then she said something no mother has ever told her child. 

“Get in the hearth.” 

I stared at her in shocked silence for a moment before my words came back to me, “I’m sorry?” 

“Trust me, you’ll be safe.” 

“Mom, I don’t think—” 

“Here,” she cut me off and walked to the kitchen, grabbed a loaf of bread, and handed it to me. “Put this in the hearth and then repeat after me.” She looked at me expectantly, and I tossed the bread into the fire. As it blackened, my mom continued, “Oh Hestia, receive my offering.” 

“Hestia?” 

“Just say it!” It was clear I had limited time to do whatever it was I was supposed to do. 

“Fine! Umm, oh Hestia, receive my offering.” 

“Good. Now: I request your aid as Goddess of the Hearth.” 

I repeated her. 

“If it pleases My Lady, let me pass unharmed through fire and be safely delivered to Camp Half Blood.” 

I finished the ritual and for a scary moment, nothing happened. My mom stared at the flames expectantly. And then suddenly, the flames went from yellow and orange to a cool blue, flickering with green and purple. Now, I’d always been told that blue was the hottest fire, but my mom seemed to be satisfied. 

“Okay sweetie, grab your things. It's time.” 

I swallowed hard. 

“How do we know it worked? What if I get burned?” 

“Angie,” my mom took my hand and I wondered how long it would be until she held me again, “you have to have faith. Hestia has been protecting you your whole life, she will not fail you now.” 

“But I don't understand—” 

“You will, all in the Fates timing.” She gave me another tight hug, letting go quicker than I wished. “Now get your things.” 

I did as she said, putting my backpack on and gathering my suitcase. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” My mom exclaimed as she rushed to our big bookshelf and grabbed the largest and heaviest tome. I recognized it immediately–a book of Greek myths. They had been my bedtime stories growing up, and I knew most of them by heart. While other kids got Cinderella and Charlotte's Web, I got Jason and the Golden Fleece and Princess Andromeda (my favorite, of course). “Take this, it will help you.” I had to hold it with both hands, clutching it to my chest. 

“Thanks, mom.” She nodded and looked to the flames, which were still flickering blue. 

“You’d better go, it's best not to keep the Goddess waiting.” 

I couldn't believe what was happening, but it was as if an external force was guiding me along when my feet could not. I stepped to the large hearth, and, feeling no heat, took a deep breath, thought here goes nothing , and stepped in. 

I closed my eyes and winced instinctively, but after a few scary moments I realized I wasn’t being burned alive. Sure I felt the flames, they were warm, but they didn’t hurt. I laughed in relief, but my mom didn’t look surprised. 

“I’m proud of you, Andromeda. I love you, and you always have a home here—remember that.” 

It was rare my mom called me by the name given to me at birth, and for some reason, hearing her say it now was confirmation that I was doing the right thing. 

“I love you too, mom.” 

****

Jake deftly leaped and ducked as they combed through the forest to the mountain.

“You do this alot? Hiking through the forest that is. You seem pretty confident in the outdoors.” Jake turned to look back at Taylor and smiled, make sure she was keeping up.

“I grew up in a Louisiana town that was so rural it wasn't even on the map. When it comes down to it, the swamp and the jungle ain't so different.

“Probably less gators though.”

“Less gators, more jaguars, I'd call it even. How about you Princess? This your kinda scene?”

“I love the outdoors. Blue skies, fresh air, a soft sea breeze...it's perfect. I mean I should be more freaked out by...whatever that thing was I saw last night, but being out here? I can't help but feel happy,” she saw Jake watching her intently as she spoke a twinkle in his eye, “the company doesn't hurt either.” She winked but Jake had turned away and didn't seem to hear her.

“That why you come with? Wanted a nature hike?”

“It’s not a nature hike unless we're au natural. I came for the company.” Taylor tried again and this time he heard her.

“Oh!” She could tell she caught him off guard.

“You're not like the others here Jake. You're confident and capable, and you seem like you know what you're doing. I don't know what it is, but...I want to be near you. I feel safe with you, is that weird?”

“Naw, not weird. Just classic Princess.”

“Are you ever gonna use my real name?” She playfully crossed her arms.

“Only when you've earned it.” He winked.

“And how do I do that Top Gun?” They emerged at the base of the cliff they needed to climb.

“Well how's your rock climbing?”

“Let's find out.” She sauntered off in front of him, shaking her hips, knowing that Jake was watching her. They began climbing the cliff using small handholds to pull themselves up. Breathing hard, Jake crested the cliff first, Taylor just about to follow when the rock she had hold of crumbled beneath her grip.

“Ahh!” She grabbed the edge of the cliff, before Jake could even react she was pulling herself up.

“Nice moves Princess.” Jake walked over and looked out over the forest, it was an incredible view. The forest went on for miles in different shades of green, blue water just barely visible on the horizon. She sidled up beside him, but he wasn't paying any attention to her, so she decided to have some fun. She peeled her shirt off.

“It's soooo hot.” She fanned herself and Jake turned around, his eyes widening as they raked over her body with desire.

“This place never stops taking my breath away.”

“It's one hell of a sight.” Jake grinned and forced himself to look away.

“Hey Top Gun, that look like a shelter to you?” She pointed out to a small grey building by the river.

“Hot damn Taylor, nice eye.”

“So, I earned it?” She grinned.

“Don't get ahead of yourself Princess. Maybe before I leave we can go on another climb.” There was a genuineness to his voice that made Taylor smile.

“I'd like that.”

“Let's get back to the others.”

****

Tyler and Quinn walked in silence until she turned to him.

“Thanks for coming with me.” She grabbed his arm and smiled at him.

“I just wanted some space from Jake…” she trailed off, tears welling in her eyes.

“Not your favorite person?”

“No. He made me feel dumb earlier… calling me Pippi Longstocking and throwing pumpkin spice lattes in my face. He has me pinned as a spoiled, sheltered college student which isn't true at all. I just wanted to enjoy the flowers! This is my first time ever enjoying the outdoors, I didn't have a normal childhood.” Tyler did feel bad for Quinn, Jake's comment had been harsh and demeaning, he didn't know what his sister saw in that low life.

“Yeah, that was pretty messed up. I'm sorry he said that to you, I don't think you're dumb.”

“Thanks,” she giggled, “is this your kind of vacation?” Tyler nodded.

“I really enjoy the outdoors, everything about it. It's just... peaceful.”

“Maybe Jake just doesn't understand that. He seems like he's seen some scary stuff.” They heard the sound of rushing water getting closer.

“I just think he's a dick. Don't worry about what he thinks Quinn.” She smiled just as they emerged through the trees and into a beautiful lagoon with a waterfall. Quinn quickly peeled off her clothes, wading into the water. Tyler hung back on the beach, a pang in his chest, he wished that he was here with Estela. They could be bitching about Jake, maybe swimming together, he could finally disarm her of the stupid pencil. He snickered to himself and hung his head between his knees as he sat in the sand. He was pining for a girl who threatened to kill him with a dull pencil, not once but twice, and told him to stay away. There was just something about her that drew him in, like a moth to the flame.

“Tyler come swimming!” He sighed and peeled his shirt off headed towards the water when a glint caught his eye. He bent down to pick it up and it was a pirate doubloon.

“What'd you find?” Quinn wadded out of the water, resigning herself to the fact that she wasn't going to convince him to go swimming. He showed her the piece of pirate gold and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Do you think it's real?” Tyler shrugged.

“We've seen lots of crazy stuff on this island. Wouldn't surprise me much.” he snatched it back and stuck it in his pocket, Quinn frowned.

“I guess we should go back then.” Tyler nodded and started the trek back.

****

Jake and Taylor had found the shelter, it was a short walk from the where everyone had split up, off the path.

“Why are we celebrating? Is this place not giving anyone else 28 Days Later vibes?”

“Shelters are made to keep you safe, not look pretty. C'mon.” Jake led the way into the dilapidated shelter only to find it was empty and worn down on the inside as well.

“Maybe pop culture Petey was right. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“I don't like this Tay.” Tyler appeared at her side.

“Anyone else want to go back to the jungle with pretty flowers? Anybody?” Quinn's voice was shaky.

“Lots of muddy shoe prints. They seem recent, someone was here.” Jake knelt down. Tyler uneasy feeling began to grow.

“Tay. We should get out of here.” He grabbed her arm.

“I'm not leaving our friends Tyler!” everyone jumped as they heard a skittering noise, like rats, but it was something much larger. They followed the source of the noise to a large black hole where the concrete wall had collapsed, the flowers from outside growing out of it.

“I think it came from in there.” Diego pointed. Tyler took a deep breath and stepped up to look.

“Something's definitely alive in there.” before anyone could process, a small figure came bounding out of the darkness. It was a small, blue, fox looking creature, ice clinging to the wall behind it. It seemed afraid, no one knew why until they heard the low, deep growl behind them. Turning they came face to face with the creature Taylor had seen the night before.

“Jake! What do we do?” Taylor looked at him and it was the first time she had ever seen him look scared, he grabbed her hand, she grabbed Tyler's with her other one. 

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