Terraform

If any of you actually found this, then: hey, Jessica. :] And hey MaggotHeads! I guess I noticed that there's a staggering deficit of Maggot Boy fanfiction out there in internetland, and uh… well, the rest is history.

This is something I whipped up during the past couple weeks: the editing isn't fantastic, and truth be told, I wasn't going to release any sort of edit until I cleaned the work up substantially. But I noticed on your latest update, Jess, that you weren't feeling so good- and so I thought, maybe, seeing a new fanpiece would cheer you up- at least a little.

S'pose all I really wanted to say was thank you. You may not always think so, but you're an incredibly creative force who has, at the very least- (and I mean VERY least) -influenced a kid on the other side of the world, without ever having met me. I know it sounds a little dumb, but I'm a writer myself and... well, I guess I look up to you, in some sense. You and Kris created an awesome story, and I just wanted to show my appreciation… the only way I know how, basically: writing.

I do hope you guys like it! For any fans who want a quick piece whipped up, but don't necessarily care much for writing, I'd be happy to take requests. :]

Feel better, Jessica; if nothing else, take solace in the fact that your fans love you. <3 And to all my fellow MaggotHeads: keep being awesome! <33

Characters belong to Jessica Gazzard AKA Flipsidered. This is, for all intents and purposes, fanfiction, and I take credit for nothing but the story idea for the fanfiction itself.

***

Terraform

Ter - rah - form [verb.]

To reform or alter the environment of a once uninhabitable celestial body in order to make it capable of supporting terrestrial life, most notably humans.

Essay Question: Do you believe that such a process is plausible, much less attainable, for human survival on alien planets once thought uninhabitable? Explain your conclusion in detail.

"God, I've got nothing." Micah buried his head in his hands, frustrated and overwhelmed. Sitting opposite him, Pj tilted his head, and smiled.

"C'mon, what kind of defeatist attitude is that?" he shuffled the mess of paper into a neat, approachable stack. "At the end of the day it's just a yes or no question."

"Yeah, but I don't even understand the question!" Micah whined. "How am I supposed to know whether or not it's possible to make a desolate planet habitable? And why should I care? Let's just watch TV." He sat back, resting his head against the foot of his bed as he surveyed the room, scanning it for the remote.

"Tsk." An unamused PJ rolled his eyes, clicking the top of his pen in thought. "Micah, it's due in a week. And we have to give an oral presentation, to boot! Do you really wanna get up there and look stupid in front of the whole class?"

"Pfft, like I care." At last locating the remote, he collected it, flipping on the flatscreen posted against the wall- channel surfing for a moment or two before settling on a s****y, halfway-finished MTV show. Noticing the displeased look on his friend's face, he threw his arms up in exasperation. "C'mon, Parker! We got a whole week, we don't have to start it today. Besides, it's the teachers fault for giving us such a stupid project."

Ignoring Micah's scathing argument, PJ tapped the side of his head with his pen, searching the recesses of his mind for anything useful.

"What about Jupiter?"

"What about Jupiter?" sighed Micah, growing bored with the program on TV and proceeding to flip through the channels uninterestedly.

"Well… it's massive. Maybe given all that density, um…"

"The ability of a planet to sustain human life has nothing to do with it's massiveness", Micah sighed, turning off the television. "Well… part of it does, but most of it is dependent on carbon and oxygen levels, atmospheric conditions, and distance of the planet from its parent star."

Parker paused, pen to pad. "…Hey, that's good." He scribbled Micah's words down verbatim. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? God, Micah, you're smart, I don't understand why it is that you never seem to want to do your classwork."

"Mmhmm", he commented listlessly, as the doorbell rang. "Wanna get that?"

"Why don't you have your maid get it?"

"Esmarelda's on holiday this week. You're my maid for today."

"Hmph." Smirking, Parker stood with a playful eyeroll. "Spoiled brat."

"Neeerrd", Micah retorted.

Parker thumped down the spiral stairs, the cloth on his socks meeting the dark hardwood with a dull 'thump.' Making his way into the grandiose foyer, he heard the doorbell ring again.

"Just a minute!" he called, sprinting across the foyer and sliding across the glossy floor by the bottoms of his socks, grinning as his body met the heavy door with a light thud. First fumbling with the lock, and then finally prevailing over it's complexity, he opened the large door with a smile.

"Hi, can I help y-"

BAM.

********

"Terraform"

  A Maggot Boy Fanfiction

********

A blur. That's all it was, really. A blur of a blot of a slowed-down second in time: his head had connected with cold cement, and it was all downhill from there.

"Where's your brother buried?" came the whisper. It had sounded so far away, he had a good mind to wonder if it was even real.

"Cemetery drive", he must have answered, although he can't remember. "In G-8."

The entire conversation lasted a blurred, empty moment in time: a moment that barely existed. He would lie in the grime, and listen to his captor shuffle off.

When he came to, he would find himself a shade of beaten so purple he didn't recognize his own reflection in the puddled streets. He would find a piece of paper, wrinkled and smeared and red and out-of-place: he would see what his captor didn't mean for him to see:

A leaf, torn from a tabloid: the back of a colorfully-dyed head of hair, far from the foreground, circled in red pen. Familiar, almost.

Almost.

Parker lifted himself from the sludge to limp toward the closest haven he could manage.

…But then, he considered removedly, was there even such a thing anymore?

********

“Anything?”

Chainey plopped down in the chair opposite Sam, sighing heavily.

“Nothing”, sighed a wound up and worn-down Chainey. The exasperated look on his face told Sam that despite tireless hours trying to scrape up anything he could, he could barely manage a crumb of useful information. No one knew anything, or no one was talking; one way or another, what once seemed like a substantial problem had now turned into a hell on earth.

“It's been almost five hours, Chainey”, Sam whispered concernedly, leaning forward. “For all we know that boy could be dead by now.”

“If he knows Parker is Davey’s younger brother, I doubt it.” Chainey stared at the floor intently, not noticing Sam's puzzled visage.

“Don’t you… mean the opposite?” she queried. “I don't think it’s a coincidence that he took Parker, of all people- and it’s not uncommon for enemies of an individual to systematically wipe out family members as a way to get back at someone.”

“You can’t think about it like that, Owen doesn’t work like you and me.” Chainey illustrated his point by tapping his temple. “This has happened before, Sam, and he seems to be… set on following Parker. I think we’re looking at this the wrong way; I don’t think he’d be so straightforward as to just… kill PJ, knowing that he’s Davey’s brother. Think about the sort of opportunities that presents to him; it’s a way to get closer to Davey- and… to me, I guess. PJ isn’t something he’s just going to wipe off the board; I think Parker is a pawn.”

Having Sam's full attention, the two locked eyes, minds racing for answers. Chainey was thinking like a criminal. And that was the first step. Of course, herein, the real problem lied, as the next question was, inevitably-

“What next?”

Sitting back again, Chainey sighed even heavier, looking down. “I honestly don’t know.”

A quiet moment passed as Sam registered everything Chainey had said. And if he was right, and Parker was still alive, then the entire game had changed. Everything the Institute had been doing to stop Owen up until now was a waste of time and resources, due in large part to the fact that- much to both their chagrin, and despite the child’s cold, callous nature- they had, indeed, underestimated Owen.

Sam opened her mouth to speak, when the door swung open suddenly, revealing the worst possible variable:

"Where the hell've you guys been, man?" Davey queried, strolling in. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed a matching set of panicked faces. "…You two look like someone just died. What's goin' on?"

"Uh…" Sam stood up quickly, straightening her dress and proceeding to fidget with the hem. "Okay. Davey…? Sweetie, come… come here, for a second. Sit down…"

Davey hesitated, giving her a look of suspect.

"Okay…" He said slowly, sitting down next to Chainey, who sat pokerfaced. Sam looked on at Chainey before sitting down herself, biting her lip.

"Okay, uh… godhowdoIevenbeginto- Okay! Well, Chainey was… following PJ", she paused for effect, hurriedly adding: "-like you asked!" Davey cocked an eyebrow. "And… well, he kind of saw… well, PJ was… at his friend's house, and… well, someone rang the doorbell and he sort of-"

"Christ, Sam, spit it out already", Davey sighed, losing patience.

"Owen-" Sam started, "-Owen… sort of… kidnapped… Parker…"

And from hundreds of miles away, surely people could see the roof blown off the airplane hangar that was the boys' home as Davey screamed with everything he had in him:

"WHAT?!"

********

"Dad! Hey, Dad- Daaaad!"

"I hear you, Micah, what's the problem?" Darius sighed, hardly looking up to address his son as he thumbed through a book, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Where's the construction paper?"

"Iiif.. I'm not mistaken, Gendo was using it last."

"Well where is he? I haven't seen him all morning."

Darius growled from the back of his throat, closing his book with a soft 'thump' and raising his voice to carry upstairs.

"Gendo!" There was a brief second of silence before the echo of a yell carried back downstairs.

"What is it, baby?"

"Micah needs construction paper, did you take it?"

"Mmm… no, I put it back in the closet."

"He says he put it back in the closet, Micah." Darius informed his son as he opened his book again, returning his attention to it as he sighed. "Maybe you just overlooked it, try again."

"Dad, this is important!" Micah stomped his foot. "I looked, it isn't there!"

"Kiddo, why is this so important? What's the problem, here, can't you just use regular paper?"

"No, I need colored paper! I have a huge science project that's due in like, a week, and Parker totally ditched on me!"

"Huh, that doesn't sound like PJ."

"Yeah, well, I dunno what his problem is, but we were working on it yesterday and suddenly he just left! So now I'M stuck with the stupid project."

"Well", Darius flipped a page, "maybe something came up. It isn't like Parker to shirk his responsibilities like that. You should go a little easier on him, kiddo, that boy's been through a lot."

Micah opened his mouth to respond, only to interrupted by the doorbell, ringing through the foyer. He closed his lips tight with annoyance, knowing he'd have to get that, when he heard loud, hurried footsteps from upstairs, and Gendo calling: "I got it!"

He turned around to lean against the kitchen counter, reaching into a wooden fruit bowl- hand hovering for a moment or two before deciding on an orange. The front door opened, he could hear, and someone small and fast came rushing toward the living room.

"Micah!" a young, worried voice called from the foyer.

"Speak of the devil and he appears!" Darius smiled welcomingly, closing his book. "Parker, how have you b-"

Darius' smile slipped off his face, as did his words flitter away from him as he trailed off- worry clear in his eyes.

"Well, look who it is! Jeez, Parker, you could have at least called me to-" but as Micah turned around to face his friend, his anger flitted away, as well- his jaw practically hitting the counter beneath him, the fruit in his hand dropping to the floor.

If any of the men in the room hadn't been able to recognize Parker by his voice, they probably wouldn't have known it was him at all: his face was puffy, and bruised. His lower lip was split wide open, mush and guts visible, and dribbling down his chin. The cartilage of his ear was torn open, veins loose like wires, hanging from an open hole in the wall.

Gendo rushed in behind PJ, concern evident in his features.

"Parker…" Darius- still, no doubt, in shock- fumbled for words. "Wh… who did this to you?"

Parker, however, refused to tear his eyes from Micah's.

"It's nothing", PJ droned, and although he was addressing Darius, his eyes were still locked with Micah's. His voice sounded soft, and faraway. "Some kid from school jumped me. Micah, can I talk to you for a second?"

Micah nodded, clearly shaken, grabbing the sleeve of a slow-moving PJ and pulling him into a nearby guest-room. The boy moved to close to door, reaching over Parker's shoulder, before glancing back at his friend- a look of pure terror registering on his face.

"It was him, wasn't it?"

The young boy stared, forlornly, into space- and he said absolutely nothing which, interestingly enough, frightened Micah more than anything Parker could have said. Or, so he thought.

"Parker!" the paler boy slapped the side of Parker's face, gently, in an effort to regain his attention. "Parker, enough is enough! We need to tell my dad, we need to call the police!"

"No", he said quickly, grabbing a fistful of the other boy's shirt and pulling him back.

"No?" Micah repeated in disbelief. "PJ… look at yourself! You look like you could have been killed! You can't do this on your own."

"No, no he doesn't want me dead." Parker was speaking quickly, now, as though there were some sort of rush, some sort of press for time.

"Who?! Who doesn't want you dead, PJ?! What are you talking about?!"

"It was him, Micah. He came to the house before, I opened the door, he knocked me out he, he… He found me, and, and he found me, and he was talking to me about my brother." There was a noticeable shiver beneath his voice, like he was on the verge of tears. "Asked me… asked me where he was b-buried…"

The paler boy's shoulders sank a little, and his expression softened.

"…Davey, Parker?"

Parker nodded.

There was a stretch of silence- a lingering moment where neither of them spoke. They could hear outside, too, the dull hum of Darius and Gendo conversing worriedly- no doubt, about Parker. Micah's parents both loved Parker, and treated him like a second son; Micah considered this, frustratedly rubbing his temples in a vain effort to offset an oncoming headache. It would be absurdly difficult to try and pass a situation as serious and, for all intents and purposes, life-threatening as this off as 'no big deal.' Frankly, he couldn't see why Parker was so fervently against reporting the incident to the police, or to at least take that first baby step in telling Darius and Gendo. He looked back at his friend, who had sunk to the floor, now: knees pulled to his chest, head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking. Micah sunk down to meet him, and sighed.

"C'mere." He pulled Parker in, wrapping his arms around the frightened boy's shoulders. PJ, not interested in resisting at all, buried his face in the cloth of his best friend's tee-shirt, clinging to him. The two boys had hardly heard the door open beside them.

"Boys…?" Gendo's voice was soft, and concerned.

"Guys, can PJ sleep here tonight?" Micah looked up at his parents, still holding on to the sobbing boy who had paid the two adults no mind.

"Of course", Darius nodded, looking at Gendo. "Sweetie, be a doll and call PJ's parents, let them know he'll be spending the night here." Gendo nodded and exited, saying nothing.

"PJ…" Darius kneeled down, speaking gently. "I think you need to take care of those cuts… I could-"

"He's fine, dad." Micah pulled Parker closer, the bruised child still crying into his chest. "I'll take care of it later."

"Kiddo, at the very least, he needs to get all that washed out, he'll get infected. Gendo's good with that sort of stuff, just let me-"

"He's FINE, DAD, JUST GO." He shut his eyes tight as his father looked down, waited a moment… and left.

The day stretched on, seemingly into eternity; it was forever before the white sky had faded slowly to dusk. The two boys had relocated, settling into Micah's room upstairs: vermillion and tangelo flooded the room, an influx of color, signaling that night was imminent, and approaching. The boys had busied themselves with menial, petty tasks: they had tried to work on their science project, only to find themselves utterly distracted, and resolved to watch television for hours on end, speaking only occasionally and, when they did, only of celebrity gossip, and petty little things. It was only now, as the day turned off to sleep, and silence abounded, that Parker had finally spoken up.

"Micah?" the boy asked, looking up from his spot on the floor to address his friend, perched atop the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, PJ?"

PJ wrung his hands, watching the floor.

"This isn't going to go away on it's own."

"Yeah, I know! That's why I'm saying we need to call th-"

"No", Parker interrupted, screwing his eyes shut. "No. It's not going to go away, no matter what we do. Not if we tell an adult, or any more of the SCPD… They're, they've been looking for this guy for… weeks, now. If the cops can't stop him, and the Institute can't stop him, even with all the information and all the tips that they've gotten- what makes you think that this will make any difference? We reported it last time this happened, and has he been caught yet? Have they even gotten any closer?"

Micah bit his lip, and frowned in chagrinned acknowledgement. He didn't want to admit it, but… Parker was probably right.

"So what do you plan on doing? Do you even know? You realize you can't do this by yourself, right?! I mean, this guy's a-"

"Micah", the boy interrupted again, his tone, and his expression, more serious, now. "Do you trust me?"

The pale child cocked an eyebrow at his friend, incredulously.

"Yeah…?"

Parker nodded, glancing down at his hands for a moment- they were swollen, and bruised. The child looked back up with a fervency and a sense of a determination in his visage.

"I have a plan."

********

"-ugly, COCKSUCKING LITTLE-"

"Davey!"

"-swear, when this is all over, when I get my hands on him I'm gonna-"

"Davey, c'mon, relax!"

"-can you BELIEVE this s**t, Chainey? I can't even-"

Sam held out her hands pleadingly, watching as Davey paced the room furiously. Chainey sat opposite the two, atop the back of the couch, having long given up on trying to calm Davey from his rage.

"Davey", Samantha pleaded, "I know you're worried about PJ- Chainey and I are too, but… please, Davey, c'mon! Don't go doing this again!"

"SAM-" Davey exploded, pointing toward the door as though it were the entrance to all the evils in the world. "My little bro's out THERE- with that… that…"

Davey stopped himself for a moment, a thought seeming to register in his head. He immediately turned to Chainey, a new target for his fuming anger.

"And YOU!" he hissed. "Weren't you supposed to keep an eye out for him? How the hell did this escape you? What, you didn't see some 2-inch tall f****r in a hoodie with cat-ears up and bag my brother?! What kind of retard are you?"

"Woah woah, waittaminute, what?" Chainey jumped, taken aback. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!"

"Davey", Sam interceded, hoping to put an abrupt end to the chaos Davey seemed intent on causing. "Let's not do this again, alright? Let's do this right this time. Alright, Chainey screwed up-" she eyed Chainey quickly, catching him before he was about to speak up in a futile effort to defend himself. He caught on, and shut up. "-let's focus on PJ's safety right now, alright?"

Davey collapsed into a chair, dropping his head into his hands.

"F**k this s**t, man."

Samantha, not before helplessly turning to glance at Chainey, took a seat next to the undead, folding her hands on the table very professionally, and diplomatically.

"I think", she sighed, twiddling her thumbs a little in anxiousness, "it would be better… if I follow Parker from now on."

Davey looked up, eyeing the girl questioningly. "What?"

"Yeah", she continued. "Chainey can't run around in broad daylight, Davey. I'm normal-looking, and Parker doesn't know me- it would be a lot more inconspicuous if I were the one following him around."

"Sam…" the two heard Chainey laugh a little from behind them. "You have to work, you know. Somehow I don't think Lazaro's going to give you a paid vacation so you can follow your subject's family around."

Davey thought for a moment, before finally speaking up.

"We'll all go."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Sam's job is to keep an eye on us, right? She follows Parker around, and we stay close behind- two birds one stone. She's doin' her job, helpin' us- and if she does run into that whackjob, we'll be right there to protect her."

Sam nodded in agreement, as they heard Chainey clear his throat from behind.

"Davey…" he began, as though speaking to a child. "That's… sort of an imposition on Sam, don't you think? Maybe you should, you know… thank her."

The undead boy glanced back at his friend, smiling… a little sadly.

"Thank you, Samantha.."

She nodded. "You're welcome." And she sighed, standing. "So, first problem… how do we find PJ in the first place?"

"Oh", Davey laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head. "That's easy."

*****

"Are you out of your f*****g mind?"

"Look, I knew you'd react like this, but-"

"Psh, oh, no, yeah- good plan, Parker, go and test it out, tell me how it goes."

Parker threw his arms in the air, exasperated. He had expected Micah, who had a staggering deficit of faith in the good of man, to react somewhat… adversely, to his plan, but- it was… it was, just…

"It's a last resort", Parker resolved, nodding to himself assuredly.

"PJ, you realize you're dealing with the guy who did-" he poked the side of Parker's torn up face for emphasis, drawing a pained 'ow!' from the boy, "this to you, don't you? Look, I know you put a lot of stock in the idea that people are inherently good, and all that crap, but… you're planning to try and-"

"Just to see if I can't talk some sense into him!" Parker finished. "Look, everybody has good in them, don't they? No one is… no one is entirely bad! Maybe, if I tried to talk to him, instead of at or about him, we could find some common ground, or… or at least I could get him to leave me alone!"

"Yeah, no, that's- that's a good plan, Parker." Micah laughed, shaking his head as he turned to walk out of the room. "Maybe once you're done, we can all be best friends, and go to the mall and get mani-pedi's and trade backstories."

"Look, I'm not saying this is going to get us anywhere!" argued an angered PJ, storming after his friend into the upstairs hallway. "It's a desperate measure in response to a desperate situation! Where are you going?!"

"Now that's the first sane thing I've heard you say all day: this is desperate, PJ. I think we need to take you to a hospital, 'cause that guy must've really fucked up your brain with one'a those blows." He trotted down the stairs. "And I'm going to tell my dad and Gendo about what happened. I've had enough of this, I'm not going to sit back and watch you get pummeled."

Parker stopped in his tracks, a flame of lividity overwhelming him.

"Oh no you don't!"

His body met Micah's with a force that knocked the two boys over and sent them tumbling down the stairs, and into the kitchen- meeting the hard tiles with a sickening 'crack.' Micah moved to shove the battered boy off him.

"Are you crazy?! What the f**k is wrong with you, PJ?!"

"IF WE TELL YOUR DAD" Parker yelled, "WE'LL JUST BE DRAGGING HE AND GENDO INTO IT! I'M NOT LETTING ANYONE ELSE GET HURT, MICAH, NOT YOUR PARENTS AND DEFINITELY NOT YOU."

"YOU'RE AN IDIOT!" he shoved the boy, toppling him over. "You're gonna get yourself killed, you dumb s**t! This is a SERIAL KILLER WE'RE TALKING ABOUT, HERE, PJ, not some bully on the school playground!"

"He's our age!" he cried, standing up, "Maybe even younger! He's a little kid! Nobody that young can be a cold-blooded killer deep down, I just refuse to believe it!"

"Ch'yeah?" Micah snorted, dusting himself off. "Well believe it, buddy. You go back there and try this, you're gonna get yourself killed and eaten by that ugly little s**t. And hey, if that's what you want, go for it- but I'm not havin' your back on this one, Parker! You wanna go walk to your death, fine by me- just leave me out of it."

PJ was clearly hurt.

"Yeah? Fine!" he stormed upstairs to grab his bag; thumping back down the stairs, he headed for the front door, slamming it hard behind him as he left.

"What on earth was all that?" Micah heard Gendo's voice from behind him, and turned to see him poking his head out from the basement door- a look of concern and confusion on his face.

"Nothing", Micah mumbled, crossing his arms. "I just knocked something over…"

"Oh. You didn't make a mess, did you, honey?"

Micah looked up and sighed, staring at the large, wooden front doors.

"Yeah. Big mess."

********

"Hello?"

The graveyard was a stew of mud and sopping earth: the smell after the rain rose like steam from the soil and made the hair on Parker's head frizz and curl into itself. He treaded tentatively past each gravestone, careful not to step on any loose soil and upset whatever remained after the maggots ate up the flesh of the buried: his superstition got the better of him. Then again, strange and terrible myths like 'ghosts' were the least of Parkers problems. He had a much realer monster to contend with.

Again, he swallowed a mouthful of hot, wet air and tried again: "Hello?" He peered over his shoulder, glad for the light of the sunset, however fleeting, to turn out any shadowy hiding places the monster might have been lurking. "I know you're here…"

And, rather suddenly, Parker felt pretty stupid for coming here in the first place: there wasn't any reason to believe Owen was still here. There wasn't any reason to believe that he was even-

Parker's train of thought screeched to a halt as a torn, orphaned wreck of a building caught the periphery of his vision. It sat unassumingly, just outside the gates of the cemetery: muddied and stripped down to it's architectural basics, it seemed exactly the kind of asylum a pariah would take.

But then, Parker mused, there was only one way to find out…

********

Dingdong…

Samantha wrung her hands, listening for the tell-tale signs of footfalls, or shouting. A long, quiet minute passed- the scenery remaining unchanged. She turned worriedly to peer at Davey and Chainey, crouching in a nearby bush, only to have Davey silently admonish her with frantic and indistinguishable hand signs. And only when those taboo thoughts of giving up and turning around came to inception and trickled down her conscience did the front door finally open, revealing a wilted and unkind Micah.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh", she regained focus, unraveling her wringing and fidgety hands with a trademark awkwardness. "Yes! I'm actually… looking for Parker! Parker Jones? He's uh… he's a friend of mine."

Micah, giving her a skeptical once-over and cocking an eyebrow, leaned against the door post.

"Uh", he droned. "What did you say your name was?"

"Oh- um. Samantha! Samantha Hyde."

"And… how, exactly, did you say you know Parker? I've never heard him mention a 'Sam' before…"

"I'm a close family friend." She swallowed hard. "I know he's been acting strangely these past few weeks, and… I know he hangs out a lot here, so… uh, hah, y'know…"

Micah made a face, still cocking an eyebrow. "Uh-huh." He wasn't buying it. He grabbed the door, beginning to close it. "Well, you're out of luck: he ran off a couple hours ago."

"Do you-" Sam wedged her foot in the door urgently. "know where he might be?"

Listening from the bushes, Davey glanced at Chainey, frowning.

"Listen, lady", Micah growled, "I'm not telling some crazy-a*s stranger who shows up at my damn doorstep where Parker up n'ran off to. You wanna talk to him so bad, go find him yours-"

Suddenly, the door burst wide open, knocking Micah back. Davey had sprung from the bushes and kicked the door open: he stood, now, leering at the boy from beneath his hood.

"Where is he, Micah?"

"The F**K IS THIS!?" Micah screamed, crawling backwards. "DAAAAAD!" Quickly, Chainey ran forward, apologizing hurriedly and in advance- clasping a hand over Micah's mouth, silencing him.

"Gonna ask you one more time, Micah", Davey fidgeted with the pipe wrench in his fist tellingly. "Where's Parker?"

Glancing at Chainey, Micah took a deep breath as the older boy took his hand off his mouth. 

"H-he went to the graveyard", Micah sobbed. "The one where his brother is buried! He's looking for the serial killer! The short one!"

The three older teens exchanged terrified looks: almost immediately, they bolted out the door and across the lawn, before hearing the young boy's cry:

"HOLD ON!" They turned to see him racing toward them, face contorted with genuine concern. "I'm coming with you."

********

Grime and dampness frosted the frigid walls. Cold, clammy air came breezing in from outside through the broken, gaping windows. A low din of laughter echoed off the walls. And the boy was nowhere to be found.

Parker trudged up the narrow, broken steps and gazed upon an empty hallway with inspecting eyes: the murmurs of what sounded like restrained giggling seemed closer now, and the smell of death more potent than before. He's here, Parker thought with absolute certainty. That much was a given, no doubt. But even with the noisy, creaking steps he took as he wondered in, the laughter never seemed to die down- and that's when a second, more powerful truth hit Parker:

He's here, he thought. And he knows that I'm here, too.

Resolving that there was, indeed, no turning back now, Parker steadied himself, and glossed over the hallway with his eyes. Rooms: it was filled with rooms. He took a step forward, taking a deep, strong breath, when a terrible sensation hit him:

Hot breath on his neck.

Crying out, he jumped ten feet in the air, stumbling as far away from the offending phenomenon as he was able. Laughing unabashedly, now, Owen watched the older boy with relish in his visage: his knees, buckled around a pipe, kept him suspended as he hung upside down from the ceiling, wearing an awful grin.

"Yeah." The wicked boy sniffed, dropped down from his swinging position and landed on his feet with cat-like reflexes. "I figured you'd come."

"I-I… I-" Parker was at a loss for words. The wound, it seemed, had turned to raw again.

"Well?" Owen continued languidly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and strolling casually toward a room in the hallway. "Y'comin' or what, princess?"

Scraping his heart off his throat, Parker willed himself to stand- reluctantly following the boy, unsure of his intentions.

"Look", Parker started, gripping both ends of the doorpost in an effort to keep both himself and his spaghetti-legs up. Cut short by the sound of metals scraping against one another, PJ watched in terror as Owen sat on a desk, sharpening one of his knives.

Looking up, Owen saw Parker's horror, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Relax", he offered, before returning to his sharpening. "I might've beat on y'a bit, but I ain't gonna kill ya. I don't got no problems wit'chu, Parker."

Something angry welled up inside PJ's throat.

"Well then why do you keep following me?!" Parker cried, storming closer. "Why do you keep asking me about my brother?! What is it that you could POSSIBLY want?!"

Owen quit his busywork for a second, glancing up and staring dead into Parker's eyes. He stayed like that for a good moment, scanning the older boy for any sign of understanding… but he turned up nothing. Parker's confusion was truly genuine.

"You really don't know, do you?" It seemed more like a statement than a question. Still, Parker's anger propelled him forward.

"Know what?" PJ shouted. "I've never done anything to you. I don't even know you! My brother never knew you!"

"You don't know the first thing about your brother, kiddo", Owen laughed.

PJ waved that one off: the fury would have been more trouble than it was worth.

"And all those people!" PJ went on. "You killed them! And you tried to kill Maggot Boy when he was only trying to stop y-"

"Hhnnnnng, here we go with the Maggot Boy s**t again", Owen groaned loudly; deliberately. "Christ, Peej, have a bigger hard-on for that f****t, why don't'cha?"

PJ's anger quit, then, and he began to simmer down. Tilting his head, he asked, with an inexplicable frown wrinkling his otherwise handsome features:

"Why do you hate him so much?"

Owen furrowed his brow, examining the razor's edge of his hunting knife.

"He's a prissy little goodie-two-shoes", he began, pausing in thought. "…And I don't hate him. I just don't need his s**t. There's a difference."

Parker reached into his back pocket, making sure not to make any sudden movements: he extracted a folded piece of newspaper from his pocket, holding it out for Owen to see.

"It's about him, isn't it?" PJ asked softly. "Maggot Boy's sidekick. The tall one… he's the one you're after, isn't he?"

Seeing the old newspaper clipping- the back of Chainey's head circled in red pen- tore the grin clear off Owen's face.

"Where did you get that?!" He snatched the clipping, furious.

"You dropped it when you took me from my friend's house", Parker answered honestly. He watched Owen tear the clipping to pieces, proceeding to spit on the remains. "…Hurting people isn't going to change whatever it is that's going on between the two of you."

"Oh, boo hoo", Owen snarled, rolling his eyes. "You don't know s**t."

Parker shrugged. "Maybe I don't", he conceded, tilting his head to get a better look at the boy. "But whatever you've been doing to get to Maggot Boy's sidekick these past few months? It hasn't been working. And so maybe it's time you came up with a new plan."

Owen watched the world go by through the window for a minute. He heard a distant creaking: the footsteps of curious wonderers, making their way inside the abandoned building.

It was about time.

Grabbing the side of Parker's head, Owen slammed him into a wall with a CRACK, letting him fall limply to the floor.

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

*******

"Oh god", Sam gasped, turning to Chainey. "What was that?!"

"I don't know", Davey cut in, speaking in a hushed, urgent whisper. "But I think you guys should hang tight here for a while. Stay out of sight- I'm going in to check it out, alright?" Without meaning to, his eyes met Sam's and worry clenched at his chest. "Just… be careful."

Bounding through the hallway, then, he poked his head into each room and, without fail, found nothing every time. What it took, in the end, was a double-take: he had gone in and out of one room so quickly he hadn't noticed the puddle of flesh that was his brother huddled on the floor. When finally he noticed, he ghosted back in, horror stinging in his eyes and churning in his stomach.

"Ouch", he heard a voice purr from behind him. Davey spun around. "Not his best hair day, am I right?"

"What did you do to him?" 

"Oh relax. I didn't kill him." A grin split Owen's face. "Yet."

Davey pounced, unthinking: unmitigated, violent vehemency pulsed through him as he slammed the pipe wrench into the wall, just missing Owen's head. Slipping from the older's boy's grasp with an eerily precise and almost serpentine-like seemliness, Owen backed up against the opposite wall.

"Well since you're not feeling very talkative", he teased, "I'll start. See, I'm nearin' the end'a my rope, here, a little bit- I'm sure you feel the same way, I mean y'got y'er hands really full here, y'know: Institute business, the vigilante thing, getting paid to suck c**k, et cetera et cetera SO… I was thinking maybe we could, y'know… be adults, and… figure something out."

His speech, however, was arrested yet again- this time due to airborne plumbing tools. Owen ducked, the pipe wrench hitting the wall with a CRRK, and falling to the floor.

"I'LL F*****G KILL YOU", Davey fumed.

"Alright", Owen held his hands out. "Alright, I'm gonna take that as a 'no', in which case I'll just, y'know, smash your brother's skull to pieces and we'll call it a day, yeah?"

********

As the two boys fought, the three teens listened worriedly, having stashed themselves in an unseen corner just beside the hallway entrance.

"Are we just going to sit here?" Micah whispered, turning to Sam. "There has to be something we can do!"

"It's best to just lie low for now, Micah. D- …Maggot Boy's fought this kid before, he'll be fine", Chainey assured quietly.

"Chainey's right, Micah", Sam whispered. "He's done this before."

"Not with Parker half-dead on the floor, he hasn't! Listen to them- those two are going to kill each other and by the time they do, Parker's gonna… he's gonna…"

Micah went silent. Sam and Chainey eyed each other, both wearing the same tired frown.

Sam rested her hand on Micah's shoulder, sympathy heavy in her voice.

"He's going to be fine, Micah", she promised, her . "You'll see. Let's just wait."

********

The two had spun and ducked and wrestled in a vicious, destructive dance for so long, and with such intensity, that they had all but tired themselves out. Davey leaned his back against the wall, chest heaving, glaring at the younger boy who stood, doubled over a table, panting. There was absolute silence, save for the sounds of heavy breath. Finally, Owen turned to take a long look at Davey: the genuine look in the younger boy's eye had caught him off-guard, and Owen turned back, staring at the wall.

"Listen." The redheaded deviant screwed his eyes shut, steadying himself with the rusted metal table before him and, in a bizarre moment of clarity, spoke tamely. "Your little brother's a cute kid. Alright? He's a good kid. But don't mistake my lack of enthusiasm for cessation. If it comes down to it, I will kill him, if need be." He peered over his shoulder at Davey who, though still donning a hateful and dissenting scowl, seemed to have Owen's complete attention. With that, the villainous boy skulked toward Davey, watching with him with the confidence and fervency seen only in the eyes of those who, like men who handle money and drugs and death and all the dark things in the world, intended to strike a deal. "But then, it doesn't have to come down to that… does it?"

"What are you getting at?" It took everything Davey had deep down in his gut not to tear this monster limb from limb. It wouldn't be hard, and he was so close- right there… but Davey had to acquiesce. He had to at least humor Owen. Because this wasn't about Davey, or his utter disgust with the child who looked him dead in the eye and felt nothing. This was about-

"Your brother", Owen began lowly, "doesn't have to die. What people there are left in this city don't have to die. If you listen to me, I can be out of this city by tomorrow morning. That's a promise. You'll never see or hear from me so long as you l-" He stopped abruptly, giving Davey a once-over before chuckling under his breath. "Well, you get the idea."

"So?" Davey growled, quickly losing patience. "What? What is it that you want?"

"I think", Owen answered slowly, unable to help his eyes from flickering back to his hunting knife on the metal table, "the right question would be: 'Who is it that you want?'"

Davey furrowed his brow at first, not quite understanding- but as he followed Owen's gaze toward the hunting knife across the room, a wave of genuine and chilling understanding washed over him.

"No", he answered quickly. "NO."

"Where is he?" Owen's gaze snapped back to Davey, confident that the older boy understood.

"NO."

"Where is he, F****t Boy? It's the only way you're going to get me out of this city with your brother and your friends still in one piece."

"You're insane; I wouldn't give him up to a creep like you for anything."

"WHERE IS HE, DAVEY?!"

"F**k you!" Davey lunged forward, pushing him hard and into an adjacent wall with an acute 'crack', signifying that the younger boy had almost certainly broken something. He was undeterred, getting back on his feet and dusting himself off.

"I don't have to be making this deal with you, y'know." He spread his arms in a sweeping motion, seeming to gesture to everything around him. "Look at how long I've gone under the radar! Look at how long I've been able to dodge you, your boss, your city's pathetic pigs. You've only seen me when I wanted you to see me. This won't end until he's dead, you idiot; we can end it now and cut our losses, or we can end it later, when he and everyone around him is dead. But don't say I never gave you a chance to put a stop to all this."

"You call this 'giving me a chance'?!" Davey gripped the pipe wrench in his fist tighter, knuckles cracking under the sheer force of his exquisite rage. "You expect me to give Chainey up to you so you can do God-knows-what to him, then skip merrily on my way?"

"So you'd put your own brother's life on the line to protect that s**t-eating, faggoty little twig of a-"

"The only person who won't live to see daylight is you, a*****e. I'll kill you before you can scamper out of this room."

"I'm shakin' in my boots, tough guy", Owen snorted. "This is the best offer you're gonna get. Don't be an idealist: I'm offering you a lesser of two evils, here. Everything can go back to normal if you just-" his visage darkened noticeably, and his voice dropped to an impatient, livid hiss. "-give him to me."

********

"You have to go in there!" Micah hissed, turning to glance at a petrified Chainey. "He's going to kill Parker!"

"Maggot Boy's got this under control, Micah", Sam whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "PJ's gonna be-"

"No! No, I can't let him just- he… he'll bleed to death!" Micah was whispering, still, but it was hoarse, and desperate. His bravado was mostly illusory, but admirable, nonetheless: still, his stomach lurched and his chest clenched with terror and concern for his battered friend.

Micah glared in Chainey's direction, waiting for a response. And when Chainey did nothing, Micah decidedly did the opposite. He had to save Parker. He was… he was…

"I'm sorry", he choked, before gripping Chainey by the shoulders and tossing him through the doorway, into the hallway that housed an assortment of rooms- one of which Owen and Davey occupied, presently. Chainey hit the ground with a loud and forceful 'thump!'

********

"The hell was that…" Owen began, turning to look toward the doorway. Seeing nothing, he poked his head out into the hallway, Davey following close behind.

The two boys betrayed opposite expressions upon beholding the cause of the ruckus. Davey's countenance, a terrified and desperately flustered grimace, stood in stark contrast to Owen's: a sideways, wickedly pleased grin. Chainey looked up to face the two boys in terror.

"Well wudduya'know!" Owen laughed, glancing back in Davey's direction. "Guess y'should've accepted my charitable proposition, huh, big guy?"

Davey, seeing no other, more valiant alternative, yelled at the top of his lungs in distinguishable urgency: "CHAINEY, RUN!"

Chainey didn't need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed out of the hallway and bounded down the stairs, Owen hot on his heels. Chainey hit the landing of the stairwell hard, pushing Sam and Micah out of his way, calling behind him for them to run, only to have Owen race down the stairs, followed by Davey.

"S**t!" Sam cried, following suit with the intent to help subdue the violent child chasing her friend. Micah, on the other hand, sprinted in the opposite direction- up the stairs and into the room Owen and Davey had exited from.

Parker lay limp in a corner, bathing in a pool of his own blood.

Micah's breath hitched. He approached the ragdoll-esqe form that sat limp, propped up against a wall for support. Something inside him- something deep inside what felt like his stomach almost didn't want to check if he was alive. Something in him didn't want to get closer.

Micah gathered up the scraps of his courage, and pressed two fingers against Parker's neck. His hand was shaky at first, his heart throbbing at the thought that he couldn't find a pulse. But a second or two passed, and there it was:

B-bump… b-bump… b-bump… b-bump… b-bump…

"Oh God", Micah choked, unable to hamper his terror for a moment more. He buried his head in Parker's chest, hugging his waist and sobbing profusely. "Thank God… thank God… I don't know what I would have done without you, Parker…"

Micah, having bandaged Parker's wounds with strips of clothing he'd torn from his shirt, sat for what could have passed for days but, in reality, was little more than roughly twenty minutes. He was painstakingly still, and effectively silent for the duration of the time he spent huddled at his comatose friend's feet. The echoing din of footfalls broke the silence, and it wasn't long before a figure appeared in the doorway. Micah turned to look, slowly; he grimly acknowledged the hooded figure he knew as Maggot Boy, the boy who had just saved PJ's life. On any other day, in any other given situation, Micah could have run up and embraced the vigilante for his deed so tightly, his eyes would have promptly popped out of his skull. But there was something far more pressing on Micah's mind…

"Is he alright?" Maggot Boy implored hoarsely, making sure that his hood masked his face and that his heroic pretension masked the nauseous, terrified shaking in his voice.

"…Yes." Micah looked at Parker, and then back to the hooded figure. "What happened to…"

Maggot Boy's fist clenched tightly.

"We… we lost him. He got away."

Micah, reaching over to worriedly tighten one of Parker's bandages, ensuring its effectiveness, bit his lip and grinned with bogus optimism. "It's alright. You'll catch him soon. The important thing is that Parker's okay…"

"Wh…" Maggot Boy cleared his throat. "Why was he here…?"

And he could see Micah's already wilted figure slump just a little bit more as he let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Parker thought he could talk some sense into that monster. Thought he could… save him, or something." He gazed at PJ, his expression an amalgamation of longing, misery and begrudging admiration. "He put his life on the line to help someone who didn't deserve help. I don't… I don't know how to tell him it didn't work. I don't know… what to tell him, when he wakes up…"

Maggot Boy screwed his eyes shut, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying desperately not to betray any more emotion than would be appropriate for 'Maggot Boy': he had to remember that Micah didn't know that-

"He called you-" Micah started slowly, looking back up at the vigilante. "he called you Davey."

Davey's heart skipped a beat.

"Well, I uh…" Davey began worriedly, lowering his voice an octave or two so as to disguise it. "I think he was just confused, in the heat of the moment and all. He's batshit, after all, you know."

Not convinced, Micah rose to his feet, hesitantly advancing on the older boy, who made no movement to retreat. Finally, standing toe-to-toe, Micah reached forward, gripping the material of the red hood and tentatively pulling it down, revealing the vigilante's scarred and mangled features.

"Oh my god." He shakily clapped his hand over his mouth, face draining of what little color was left. Micah's eyes, wide as dinner plates, beheld the boy behind the persona. "Davey."

"Hey…" Davey began awkwardly. "…Micah."

Micah was at an utter loss for words.

"I uh, I'm not really sure how to explain all this… but…" 

"You're alive", Micah whispered, hand still clasped over his mouth. Davey wilted at that.

"Well, no…" He looked away, looking as though he were wracked with guilt.

"You… you're Maggot Boy." It was more of a voicing of Micah's disbelief than it was a question. Davey nodded solemnly. A second went by, before Davey gripped Micah's shoulders, looking him square in the eye.

"Now I need you to do something for me, Micah", Davey began slowly. "You with me?" Satisfied with Micah's slow but nevertheless assuring nod, he continued. "Parker cannot know. I know when he wakes up you're gonna wanna tell him about all of this. But you can't. He can't know. You understand, Micah? He can't know."

"I… I…" He had so many questions. Why? Why didn't Parker deserve to know his older brother was alive? Why didn't Parker deserve to see him? What would it matter? But the solemn, no-nonsense look in Davey's eyes had convinced Micah this was more serious than, maybe, he knew. And with that, he nodded again.

Davey's shoulders relaxed. He glanced back at the doorway, where Sam and Chainey had appeared just moments ago- a look of weary disgust painted on both their faces. Giving Micah's shoulder a firm but friendly grip one last time, Davey regarded the younger boy.

"You take care of him for me, alright?" He smiled tiredly, taking a moment to kneel down next to his baby brother; swallowing back the dread that crept up his throat, he kissed the unconscious boy's forehead, and whispered warmly:

"I love you, kiddo."

Standing in the doorway, Sam and Chainey watched, dispirited, as Davey knelt over his brother's ruined form. The debilitated, spent look in the older brother's eyes seemed to catch, as Chainey looked away, unable to see the stronger of the two drop his guard so helplessly.

"He must really love him", Chainey offered lowly.

"Of course he does", Sam hummed, hugging herself. "He may not be able to… to see him anymore, but… Davey still loves Parker." She paused, before looking up to him. "I'm sure you understand, sweetie… Isn't there anyone you miss? A girlfriend, your parents… Anyone from… when you were alive?"

Chainey wrung his hands, looking down. No matter how hard he tried to prod his conscious to find some retention- some crumb, even, of remembrance…

"No", Chainey reported- withdrawn, it seemed, from his surroundings. "I don't remember… anything."

A moment of quiet, and then:

"I don't remember anyone."

The two were silent, watching a crumpled Micah peer miserably over Parker's form. Davey stood, giving his younger brother one last, long look.

"Sam", Chainey began gently, without ever taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. And though he never mentioned a name, Sam knew: Sam knew exactly who Chainey meant when he helplessly choked:

"What did I do to him?"

********

"FFFFUUCCCK."

An object hit the dirty, cement wall at full-force, shattering into thousands of pieces. Owen, rampaging through the room in panicked lividity, grabbed the closest item within arm's reach and flung it across the room, screaming obscenities as he went. Krissy had tucked herself into a corner, so as to avoid becoming a victim of Owen's tantrum. The child, seeing nothing else in the dirty, abandoned room for him to destroy, lifted his sneaker up- smashing tiny pieces of glass into even tinier pieces of glass underfoot.

"I HAD HIM" he screamed. "I F*****G HAD HIM."

He proceeded to pound his fists on the wall, beating into it until several of his fingers were cracked open, or broken and bent out of shape.

"He was RIGHT THERE. I HAD HIM. AND I LET HIM GET AWAY." He held his head in his hands, screwing his eyes shut. "I'm such an IDIOT."

In a fit of miserable desperation, the boy flicked out his pocket knife, placing it to his temple. His eyes were wild, and wet, like he was ready to cry. His chest heaved, and his fingers shook; he pressed the knife in a little harder, when he heard Krissy's soft 'mao' from the corner of the room. His wet, red eyes flicked over to the small kitten, who was regarding him curiously. He smiled sadly, and wiped his face, damp with tears, approaching her.

"Don't worry, baby girl", he reassured her, sinking down to sit and cradling her in his arms. "I'm not goin' anywhere." The kitten snuggled into Owen's sweatshirt, purring lovingly. He smiled. "I'll always be around to protect you, girl. We'll get'im, okay? We'll kill that f**k, and then we'll go back to Boulder." He ran his hand over the length of her body, and scratched behind her ear. "You'll like it there, I think. Th'aint anyone there anymore, either the mindless got to'em, or I did."

Owen leaned his head back against the wall, watching the color of the sunset on the ceiling.

"Yeah. It'll just be you and me, Krissy." He smiled a little at the thought, and sighed heavily. "Everything will be better once he's dead."

Owen stood, then, and approached the window, eyeing the cityscape silhouetted against the sunset. For anyone else, the sight would have been something beautiful to behold; for Owen, it was just the universe's way of telling him that another day had gone by that Chainey was still walking free. He couldn't see beauty in anything because there was nothing left inside him but ugliness. He rested his elbows on the windowsill, grey eyes regarding the skyline calculatingly.

"This time", he whispered to himself, gritting his teeth. "no mistakes."

********

"Alright", Micah started, exhaling deeply. The two stood in the hallway just outside the classroom, fidgeting impatiently; he reached to fix the bandages on Parker's head. "Alright. Is that better? You can't keep that too loose, Parker, or it-"

"I'm fine, Micah." Parker laughed, swatting Micah's hand away. He straightened himself out, and scanned the sheets of paper in his hand. "We're up next. Where's the posterboar- oh, alright, it's right here… alright…"

Micah watched his friend worriedly: exhausted bags hung under the beaten boy's eyes, making him seem sunken, and tired.

"You know…" Micah started lowly, "You don't have to go up and present, if you… don't feel like it. You can still head home, y'know… I can do the presentation by myself, if you-"

Parker cut him off with a gentle, good-natured chuckle.

"What?" He grinned. "And let you take all the credit? I'm alright, Micah… but thank you."

The boy nodded solemnly, poking his head into the classroom to find the preceding presentation taking their seats.

"Alright", he sighed. "We're up."

"And so, in conclusion", Parker dictated, finishing his speech as he pointed to a cut-and-pasted photograph of a planet toward the middle of the trifold, "Both Micah and myself found that, though terraforming a celestial body would undoubtedly prove beneficial to Earth's inhabitants as a whole… it's unlikely that any planet other than our own would provide sufficient living conditions for humans. There aren't enough natural resources, and any attempt to cultivate life on an alien planet's surface would ultimately end in failure."

"Very good, boys!" The teacher acclaimed, leaning back on his desk. "So, just to clarify for the class- how can you sum up your conclusion in laymen's terms?"

Parker and Micah peered at one another, taking a brief moment to search the reaches of their minds for the right words. Looking down toward the floor, Parker couldn't seem to pull his conscious away from what had transpired: everything he had done to try to stop Owen had, evidently, gone to waste. He recalled an interaction with the boy, but… everything after that had gone black. It had ended in violence, and perhaps, Parker thought to himself, he should have seen that coming from the start. Still, he had faith: misplaced faith, but faith all the same. A fervent and resolute belief that all people retained some kernel of goodness in them had impelled Parker into trying to win over this seemingly absolute monster.

But he was wrong.

There were some people in the world, it seemed, that possessed not a granule of kindness, even deep within the crux of themselves: Owen was proof of that. Parker understood, now. Notwithstanding all the effort a person can put into trying to procure some humanity from any manner of monster… for some folks, it just isn't there. It flitted away a long time ago, and they simply resigned to live as a barren plot of land from which nothing could be cultivated.

With that, Parker looked up, regarding the class with with his eyes but no so much with his mind: the past few days had taught him something indeed. And somewhere, hiding in a dank place where nothing grows, a little red-headed boy sat contriving a myriad of brilliant and bestial schemes, all of which would put innocent lives in danger, despite everything Parker had done to try and help him.

Some things…

"Some things can't be salvaged."

Reviews

[Jess]

Oooooh my goodness *_* I HAD TO MAKE A PROFILE TO COMMENT because this. is. fantastiiic ;; ungh you got everyone down SO WELL and omg you put Gendo and Darius in there I LOVE THAT XDD dl;skfmslknldkknf your Owen is PERFECT ugh such a little shitbag XD I especially liked the part where he pushed the knife to his temple and his friggin kitten brought him down from it. SO PERFECT.

The authors note made me blush so bad D: I am really not a writer dude! You're a far better author than I am XD;;; any decent bits in the written version of Maggot Boy are the bits that Kris went over and edited. English majors :| pff

(also if Micah knows Davey's secret then he is doomed XD MICAH HAS THE BIGGEST MOUTH ON THE PLANET such a gossipy little b***h)

unnngh THANKYOU THANKYOU a million times thankyou ;; I keep coming back to reread this and discovering more and more bits I love! This totally made my week. You're the best. You mind linking this in the forum or letting me do so? I WANT TO SHARE (read: brag)