Chapter Text
It was just so fucking typical that something is wrong. You know from the lack of sound and the empty halls as you come back from your trip. There’s always something going on in headquarters. Either Geoff and Jack are planning the next ten steps, Ray gets troubled over his botany issues, or Gavin pulls a prank to piss someone off. Well, not that last part recently, after his wordless disappearance from the building you five call home. That’s why you had left. To find Gavin.
All the lights are out, the windows blank. There’s always someone awake, to be on guard. You can feel the hairs raise on your arms as you’re filled with dread. You enter through the front door, pushing it open and are surprised to find it unlocked. You shouldn’t be. Everything is wrong.
You want to flip the lights on, but for once you think masking your presence is for the best. You feel the urge to run screaming and yelling and go through the building asking everyone what the hell is wrong, but it’s suppressed by instinct. This isn’t the time to Rage Quit your fear.
You turn around the bend in the hall, peeking in every passing room the moon lights. Geoff’s of scattered photos from a life gone by. Jack’s domain of beer. Ray’s of failed plants and dirt. Yours of game memorabilia. Gavin’s clean slate tidiness. All empty, until you reach the last room, the combined living-kitchen-dining room. And you wish you hadn’t.
Anything, death included, would be better than what you’re seeing. Three bodies, three friends are placed strategically around the room, dark liquid in excess around their prone forms. You know they’re dead. Jack’s sitting in a chair around the kitchen island, turned around. He probably didn’t see what got him. Ray is halfway across the room, face down and fallen, one hand extended forward. Geoff is in the middle of the room in front of the couch, glossed eyes staring at the ceiling, a foot placed idly upon him.
You kind of wish you had been weak enough to be killed out on your search for Gavin. Because you’ve finally found him.
He’s sitting on the couch, a small smirk on his face. He’s different, white hair replacing sandy blond, dark gray skin instead of peach, black energy coalescing around him and lighting the room for you to see, and most disturbing of all: his new pair of blank white globes.
“Are you next then?” Gavin says, his voice filled with glee but not with his trademark accent. That’s what finally snaps you. This isn’t Gavin, it can’t be.
You lunge across the room and punch him in the face. You start screaming immediately. “YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT! WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!” In the middle of your screams, Gavin rolls you off him and pins your wrists with his hands.
"Getting a little feisty, aren’t we?” There’s humor, of all things, in his voice, but his mouth is now twisted down and his eyebrows are troubled.
“FUCKING FEISTY? WHAT-” you draw a deep breath. “You did this, didn’t you?” you ask, the screaming gone and replaced with shaky anger.
“A little redecorating was in order. You four had poor interior design going on.” The smirk is back before being whisked away. “Who- who are you?”
You let loose a death threat. The first one you’ve ever really meant. “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, GAVIN.” You throw all of your muscle and strength back against his grip, only to be restrained effortlessly. The rage is coming through, all those times where you were just frustrated at a video game were nothing compared to this. Not even Catherine held half the anger that courses in you now. Your muscles tense and your face pinches, you know you’ll be exploding soon.
His face collapses in mild horror, eyebrows quirked up in the middle and mouth fallen open. “Mi-cool?” he whispers, in that stupid way you used to love. A flicker of hazel is visible in his snow white eyes.
You’re thrown for a second, your rage mollified for a moment by confusion. “Gav-?” And quicker than the second syllable of his name, his face turns to rage trademark to you, completely foreign, and everything goes black.