Dolloran Light awoke in her bed at dead of night with a horrible gut feeling and went to her laptop for an answer. That normally answered her gut feelings, so…
Yup. It worked. There was an email from Fahrenheit in her inbox and it was no good. He might've just fought a dream demon and he was sickly. Except, she started to worry. Not that she wasn't already worried! God, no!
But, she just got rid of the wicked thing. Is it back? Or, let me rephrase that one; did it ever even leave?
Her heart felt heavier and guiltier than it already was about the death of one Ray Hancock and she decided there was no better option than to take her time off. So, she did what any good employee would do, and called her godlike, supernatural boss on her personal phone because she secretly hated SCiPnet and email.
Ring, ring.
"What is the matter, Director Light?" a menacing voice answered. Does he even sleep? That's a stupid question, of course he doesn't.
"I wanna take you up on that vacation offer to go save Fahrenheit—" oops. "…'s flowers! I have a nice date planned for him and want to make it really sweet and all."
There was an awkward moment of silence.
"Light. You think O5-10 and I do not read SCiPnet emails?" Light frowned, and he chuckled, ever so softly. He actually chuckled! His first laugh.
"Did you just—"
"Go tend to Fahrenheit. I will be the Acting Director of Site-02 for the time being." And with that command, he hung up, leaving her to her devices.
"…oookay then, let meee…"
She dialed Fahrenheit's number, which picked up near instantly. It was a date.
Light waited outside of a coffee shop in Cortez, wearing an oversized lab coat and sweatpants. Because that's not inconspicuous at all.
Fahrenheit approached after too many minutes of waiting donning an equally ginormous Metallica tee and scummy ripped jeans. The first thing he had to say about Light's get-up was—
"Because that's not inconspicuous at all."
She rolled her eyes. "What? It's just my old researcher coat." They shared a long embrace. "Guess what I found in my car on the way here?"
Fahrenheit shrugged.
"A box with weird, cool spiral glasses in it. Signed from Wondertainment herself! They're like animated somehow and are safe to wear." She smiled. "She said she heard what happened somehow and wanted to give me something to help, so." She put them on, before realizing she probably shouldn't wear those in public. "They're sweet."
"I miss the old Wondertainment," Fahrenheit let out. "I liked his toys a little better."
"Yeah, well he was a tool," she spoke with antipathy, before noticing the inkblots on his face. They had grown. "You okay?"
"Better since last night, yeah. Quick, tell me something only the real Dolloran Light would know!"
She froze up. "Uh, uh… shit! I dunno!"
He giggled. "Now I know I'm not having a wet dream's evil brother again. Let's go inside."
They entered laughing with each other.
"So after I shot them all it felt like everything just started closing in on me and turning into this awful, inky feeling thing. But it also felt like grass." He burned himself on coffee. "And it covered me up all over. I couldn't see or hear shit. Gun was useless."
Light rubbed her thumb on his hand.
"And I reached for that crucifix I had shot, but it felt weird, like pointy and rough. I started swinging it around and it let up so I could move freely again and it was just, there. In front of me. And the crucifix was a wooden dragon."
She looked frightened. "What did it look like up close?"
Fahrenheit raised his eyebrow. "Really big, just as ugly. Must've been eleven, twelve feet tall. Dozen eyes and a whole lot of arms or tentacles or something and this awful, rigid mouth. It looked how the ink felt. I started trying to stab it but it backhanded me against the wall into a praying position, which saved me because that's what I started doing." Fahrenheit looked around while sipping. "…I'm glad nobody is awake right now. I brought that dragon by the way." He removed it from his pocket and placed it on the table. She looked intrigued, before he took it back. "It's my dream dragon!"
She chuckled. "Hey, Burnie? I need to say something," she uttered nervously, before chugging her drink, scalding her throat.
"What's up?"
"I think I somehow gave a demon to you by ridding myself of mine."
He was confused.
"I— I mean, not intentionally, obviously, but like one that feeds on turmoil. I stopped having it that night whenever I decided to not let my mom and grandma's deaths bother me so much, and since yours is giving you trouble about your faith, it's trying to hurt us about our weak points that way."
It clicked.
"Damn." He took another drink. He was dry, so he instead pulled out a bottle of coke.
"Okay, how long has that been in your pocket?"
He shrugged. "Y'know. I've always had some doubts about my faith. Working for the Foundation, despite confirming all and more religions are true at once, kinda just did it in for me. It was a matter of time."
"It's okay." She didn't know what else to say.
"I mean, Jesus how many gods are out there at this point and how many have we locked up or killed? They can't be all-benevolent. If they had as much love as power, that thing wouldn't even be hurting us. Hell, we'd all be in Heaven." He swigged his coke. "I mean, I used to be a faithful Christian, but 343's death some years back and the shit we go through for no reason..? Kinda killed that. I'm just confused. I feel like I worry so much every day about if I'm picking the right path because of how many are out there."
Dolloran hugged Burn. "I understand how you feel. I'm scared too." She swallowed. "I lost my faith after I saw the way my grandma died. I don't think 343 would leave her in that awful state unless He had one helluva plan."
Fahrenheit sat still, eyes trained on his bottle. "Yeah. How could any one of them do such awful things to the people in this world if they were caring?" Fahrenheit paused. "And how the hell did they even come to be? Everything needs a start, even the anomalous."
They say quietly, absorbing the atmosphere of the coffee shop.
"There's no way to know for sure how the world was even made, Burnie. Swann said horror writers, Joseph Smith says God organized shit that already existed, and every other belief has weird thoughts about it, but we won't ever know. Even He dodged the question."
They shared an understanding look.
"I guess so. I just wish I had an answer. There are so many options too, and yet not a single one is suitable. Ugh, it's unbearable."
Light hugged him again. "That's okay. You don't have to pick one to be happy in life, okay? You'll still always have me. And TacTheo. And the rest of the Foundation." Fahrenheit smiled.
"Okay." They shared a kiss over the table. "You wanna go do something? I feel like we could both use an actual vacation and not a glorified traumadump."
"Sure. Monster trucks?" She put on her glasses.
Fahrenheit smiled. "Monster trucks."
"That was awesome!" Dolloran exclaimed! "Thanks Burnie!"
"Yeah man! That was great." Burn and Dolloran were exhausted from such the long two days and it was their time to part. "I guess I'll see you again soon sweetie."
They shared a long hug and a little kiss before parting. Fahrenheit's mind was thus easier. He had no more need for an afterlife or a creator. He had his life, and that made it worth it. He was happy.
The mahogany halls of Site-02 were quiet, barely echoing the voices of years passed and the construction taking place many rooms over. Aaron Siegel oversaw the ruckus and ensured it was of utmost satisfaction. He flipped open his phone and texted The Administrator, informing him it was going well.
Just then, he observed an awful screeching noise in the general direction of the cafeteria. He closed his phone and stashed it, assigning a trusted employee to continue while he departed to investigate the sound.
When he arrived, ink was stained and splattered across every corner of the kitchen. Pots and pans were scattered about and clearly, someone had been hungry. Siegel heard shuffling behind him.
He reeled around with a right hook, stunning the wicked ratcher, which had — in a last ditch effort — began to target him, as the other two's minds were at ease. It let out a disgusting roar, spitting ink over Siegel's white dress shirt. At least it didn't stain his black tie or pants. He jumped up onto it while undoing his belt, before attempting to strangle it but it seemed as if, by will, the belt fizzled through, and Siegel fell off.
Landing squarely on the floor, he opened his eyes and narrowly avoided a stomp, rolling over onto his stomach and quickly jumping back to his feet. He tried to punch again, but his arm was caught by the wicked ratcher, who suspended him in the air with its tendrils and began to siphon the shame and the guilt from his very soul. His skin melted off, flake by flake, until he was nothing but a skeleton.
At that crucial moment, Siegel remembered the eye bags Light had the day before, and Fahrenheit's email to her. "I've got you, you ruddy old bastard." He pointed up his finger and a giant stone spike, manifested from the marble floor, drove through the body of the ratcher, immobilizing it.
Siegel pulled out a cigar and took a long drag, before extinguishing it on its eye and drawing a longsword. "SOLOMON" was engraved onto its blade. The beast let out an awful roar, before Siegel plunged the weapon deep in its heart.
The wicked ratcher disappeared. Siegel gasped, falling to his knees and clutching his chest.
Siegel woke up with a cigar in his mouth, smiling. "Called it. Good job, Light."