Step City

The heat was something Steven had a harder time adapting to the island. His whole life he’d only experienced that dry kind of heat during the summers on the island he had practically spent most of his life on, and half of that he had his Vibe which then helped regulate his body temperature even more-

But on this island, the heat was humid and soaked everything through, especially in the more densely packed planted areas like the one Steven was traveling through. Sweat clung and dripped off every fiber of his being, refusing to evaporate in this humid hotbox of overgrown fauna and instead found his clothes to be the most inviting place to live in.

Steven however had grown used to it enough now, having been trapped on this seemingly similar island for just under a year now- He knew how many days it had been, regardless of someones constantly fucking with his phones' calendar.- But those loosy goosy terms made it feel less time sometimes. Barely and rarely, keeping track of every holiday and birthday he missed also helped a little, at least with having a schedule he could plan and he loved to plan. But some days, it helped to pretend he didn't remember.

Today wasn’t one of those days as he remembered he was missing at least 3 people’s birthdays in UGHQ and on days like these where he began to get fixated on things he had no control over, he walked. Around the coasts, through the densely packed jungle - but never too deep, trying to find points of interest he could recognize, he could match up to his memory of his home-

Some things were a little different, like the Research District was a lot steeper than he remembered and a lot more tricky to traverse without paved roads or a decent pair of climbing shoes. Streams and small rivers were in completely different locations. He never thought he would miss concrete so much in his life-

But there were places he recognized, where borders had been drawn between factions, he could find them. Where building should of stood, places he had traversed so many times, he could retreat the paths with his eyes closed and it made him feel like-

Today was just an adventure, though. He had enough supplies to last a few days if he found nothing edible, which was a possibility as the fauna, just like this island was a little… different. Just like the sea green skies, he caught glimpses of between the leaves overhead, or the expanse of amethyst waters that surrounded the island. Everything was just… off.

Most of the survival knowledge he had gained from media and hell, working in UG or living in the Research District was applicable at times, like how to test if you can eat that thing to see if it's poisonous or not. It was helpful for foraging in the RD but nothing really prepared him for ‘what if it's iridescent?’, or ‘what if it moves?’. How do you even test for that?

At least at home - his old home, this was his home now- if a plant moved, it was because of Vibe, but here?? He didn’t even want to know how it moved, how it worked, how it functioned, what it ate- Just stay clear and never go too deep into the jungle.

The coast was fine.

Kelp galore there- thank Thom Yorke for that - It was fine. Great, even! It was cool -


“🅺🅸🅳, 🆂🆃🅾🅿 🆆🅸🆃🅷 🆃🅷🅴 🅼🆄🅼🅱🅻🅸🅽🅶. 🆈🅾🆄'🆁🅴 🅶🅸🆅🅸🅽🅶 🅼🅴 🅰 🅼🅸🅶🆁🅰🅸🅽🅴.”*

The staticy voice emanated from the loudspeaker of the smartphone tucked neatly in the straps of Steven’s makeshift backpack. The thing was pretty indestructible, cases were just that good nowadays and most had a little solar panel on the back to charge it. It had survived multiple Vibe fights, even the fight with B҉o҉n҉i҉t҉a҉ so what was a little year romp in the jungle to it?

Steven refused to look down at it, to even acknowledge the voice.

They knew what they did.

Steven kept his pace, albeit a lot quieter apart from the occasional pop of a kick drum or snare that escaped his lips to deal with the silence. He may not have his Vibe, his phone might have been hijacked by a walking corpse, but he could always make his own music.

Theo had been a sort of Awkward Late Bloomer, and his Vibe had been no different. When it'd first manifested, he'd thought it was strictly Invisibility. It hadn't taken him too long to realize that that wasn't what was actually happening. Intangibility? That didn't describe it either. Phasing out of one Existence and into Another?

Took a while to realize there was "Another". That there was something other than the "Inbetween" (he should write that down; 'The Inbetween').

With it, came that foolish, youthful need to push it before he even figured out the nuances and worked out the glitches, nearly breathless with how hard he danced. It'd been several "Others" looking very much like his, weirdly misplaced buildings or new additions, familiar faces that weren't quite that familiar, but he didn't stay long enough to study it. Didn't think he could get lost.



And then suddenly, very violently, the buildings melted away, and Theo found himself looking up through the filtered light of blues and purples through large tropical leaves. Was it twilight? He turned around to sandy beaches, water, and alien views. For the first time since he'd started jumping, he paused, putting a hand to his curly mess of hair. This felt like a turning-point. Were there any more 'cities' after this? Smoothing down his vest, he tried to dig his toes into the sand as best he could for a bit of traction. He pirouetted, awkwardly (muttering a curse at the sand), then tried again, gathering vibe. Gathering... Hold on.

He didn't feel the coursing of new vibe flow through him as he danced. He reached out, feeling the residual vibe he still had on him, but—another slow twirl on demi-pointe—there was nothing else there. And Theo panicked. Whipping around, he looked skyward, but couldn't make out much through the tall jungle. Was there a Tower behind all of that? Was the Tower... Needed?

The panic rose up to form a lump in his throat, and he thought he heard the rustling of animals around him. He didn't have time to dwell on it. He could still feel bits of his vibe sliding through his fingers; it might be enough to jump back. The sand made it hard to do much. Step dancing was out of the question, so he returned to ballet, graceful movements hindered slightly by the medium, but doable nonetheless. He flourished with the beginning of a tour en l'air, but promptly disappeared out of existence before it finished.

He didn't see anyone, and it was a while before he tried that again.

There had been quite a few times Steven had spotted ‘apparitions’ of people in the jungle before, seeing faces where there weren't any, trees and rocks looking like silhouettes of bodies when the lighting was just right. With each one unveiled to be a trick of the light, a tiny bit of his resolve cracked ever so slightly, but this time…

There was someone just standing there beyond the clearing by the beach, not more than 100ft away, as clear as day.

“Oi, shithead.” Steven whispered down at the phone strapped to his chest, his eyes never leaving the pale figure. “Someone's fucking here.”

A staticky noise of disapproval emanated from the speakers before a dry voice spoke back.

“Not this again. I can’t see jack, kid.-”

Steven's hand came up and covered the speaker to smother the voice as he watched the figure look around as he crept along through the brush, trying to get closer. Did this kid end up getting trapped here too like him and they’d just been missing each other this past year or did someone figure out the truth and send someone here to get him?

A dozen thoughts that were running through the UG’s head ground to a halt and his heart caught in his throat as he saw the person attempt a pirouette in the sand.

“Shit-” Steven broke out into a sprint as he saw the other person attempting to build vibe- They had to be, right? Who the fuck would dance out here so desperately?

Except Steven would and has and will always.

“ Wait-” He tried to call out, his voice barely audible as the swell of emotions welled up inside of him.

Someone was here.

He wasn’t going to be alone anymore.

If they had vibe and there were here...maybe he could go …home.

All he had to do was reach out and grab them and -

--

The beach was empty when Steven reached it. It had been a dozen seconds to cross the clearing, the jungle was hard to run in and he was sure he only took his eyes off them for a second- His chest rose and fell, each intake of breath was sharp and hurt as he frantically looked around for any sign of the other person-

There was nowhere for them to go-

“Again with this shit? How many times has it been now? ” The staticy voice jeered, almost seemingly enjoying the show as the younger man paced around, his breath becoming increasingly more erratic as his eyes began to fill with hot tears.

“No- I didn’t- I saw someone, I swear-.” Steven’s voice cracked as he crouched down low to bury his face into the crook of his arm as his knees as he tried to breathe through the tears and the overwhelming roll of emotions that threatened to drown him.

He wasn’t imagining it.

He saw them.

No shadows ever pittoetted apart from the ones he casted.

There was someone here!

He was gonna look for them and prove he wasn’t seeing things after this wave of bleak hopelessness washed over him.

He was sure of it.

He’ll find them!

He’ll find…

….
Steven sniffed loudly, his sinuses were clogged from the sudden randomly bursting into tears he’d done. He’d been prone to those over the past year, understandably so but this one had come on so suddenly he was a little confused… Also why had he run over here? He rose to his feet, rubbing the tears away with the back of his hand and arm, looking around.

Weird.

“You done? Or do I have to listen to you cry like a little girl?” The voice rasped from his phone. “Or are you gonna just lose your marbles some more?”

“Shut up, yeah? At least I can cry, unlike you bitch so fuck off and die.” Steven snapped back, sliding the phone out of the shoulder holder to glare down at the device. “Aw, wait. You can’t.” He mock pouted as he brought his middle finger up for the phone’s camera to see. Before the voice could retaliate, Steven slid his backpack off and tossed it to the ground, phone face down underneath it, just so he didn’t have to hear that stupid voice for a while longer.

‘Why had he run here’ was the real question… Steven gazed out to the ocean, trying to think if anything jogged his memory- Despite there being no building here, the layout was the same near enough…

Oh shit- The way the cove curved in from this position was really familiar and if you squinted, it looked a little like little wonky cat ears jutting from the ocean - This was where that little beach-sided fresh fruit and ice-cream parlour used to be in the southeast of the district!

He fucking loved this place! Plus it made sense why’d he cried at least now…He had his 3rd date here. Ugh, that felt so long ago… Steven looked out to the ocean for a little moment longer before making his way back to the place the shop used to stand… He was pretty sure he could rebuild it if he wanted… Plus it wasn’t too far from a river…

Tch!

Steven? ‘Losing his marbles?’

Tch!

Fucking dickhead just talking mad shit, as always.

Steven remembered everything.

Everything of importance at least, like where the front door was.




Cool amethyst water lapped at Steven’s calves as he stood out and gazed at the vast expanse of ocean before him. These moments where he was truly alone were far and few between, but after dropping and almost losing his phone to the jeweled waters beneath him, he’d thought it best to leave it and his bag by the shore.


He peered back for a moment, his bag somewhat covered by some stones and sand, phone tucked neatly between its folds, far away enough from the shore that he wouldn’t hear the voice over the soft lapping of waves cold and crisp against his calves, turning the dusty, dull greys of the sand of the beach to a dark and shiny obsidian black.

He watched as the belt of wet black grew and shrunk with each small wave broke against the shore, unearthing shards of pearlescent shells and tiny bones that sparkled like little hidden treasures in the warm sunlight before being dragged back under the surf and buried from sight.

His gaze turned out back to the ocean, to the horizon where purple kissed the greens of the sky, he inhaled deeply and then took a step forward. His hair, longer than it’s ever been, was haphazardly tied in a messy bun, swaying slightly in the breeze. His limbs, longer than they had ever been, stepped forward once more, the water now reaching his thighs, soaking what was left of his trousers. He’d only worn them for this occasion, the polyblend still retaining its stretch after all these years and dried out quicker than any clothes he had been able to make here.

He was near the shelf now, the part where he’d step out and dip below the water’s edge and into the deep. The first time, it was terrifying. He wasn’t expecting it and his lungs and eyes burned with the salt (he had hoped it had been salt) in the water as he struggled to the surface.

But now, he took his final breath and stepped out over the edge and disappeared from sight, and plunged deeper jeweled depths.

If Theodore Brown wasn't so desperate, he might have heard the voice. If his head hadn't been filled with the quiet panic of his thudding heart, he might have caught someone else's frenzy. If he'd had any awareness outside of his own, he might have—but he was gone, in an instant, like a ghost.

--

The next time, Frank came much more prepared. Careful planning and a lot of dancing to build up his vibe. A carry-bag of necessities—just in case. He didn't want to think of that 'just in case', but just in case, he got trapped. But he hadn't the last time, so clearly he could persist. For a little while.

That place wasn't the only destination. It was part of the journey. This time with a little book in hand. Notes across digital and paper, with a breathless sound he twirled into one reality, then the next. Much more tentative, careful, but no less exhausting. He paused, scratching a note, a number, a name. 'B13', a very simple numbering system that was going to get a lot more complicated over the years. And then...

He paused to take off his rollerblades, knowing they'd be useless in the sand. Back to sneakers, he took a deep breath, tapping his feet and crossing his ankles; there was no traditional clack of heels (but those would have been useless in the sand too), but the heart was there. He threw his arms wide and twirled, stepdance to ballet, and disappeared from pavement to beach.

The alien purple ocean slowly came back into view. Black sands. It looked like an anime. The air was warm, salty and crisp, but there was an unconscious unnerve that made him feel like he was holding his breath. That stagnation of vibe, a timer of how long he could dally here. Little notebook in hand, he tried to orient himself, turning slowly to trudge through the sand—only to stumble directly into a half-built... "Mudder a—" He sucked in air. No, it was just a stack of driftwood. Right? Wait, was it? He circled the half-built structure, crouching down to inspect it.

Steven had grown accustomed to the sharp sting of salt - He hoped it was salt. -as he opened his eyes under the amethyst waters, blinking the blurriness away as sank he deeper and deeper.

He’d learned to swim as a young boy with his mother, it was one of the few 'fuzzy around the edges' kind of memories he really had of her left, on the beaches of Step City. He had to relearn how to swim again once his arm had healed and scarred over, without the help of someone this time. And it was tough at first, figuring out how to adjust and compensate. After several dives over the years, he could swim down with ease towards the edge of the forest of seaweed-like plants that littered this shelf of the beach.

It was very easy to get turned around in these kelp forests, their long tendrils outstretched high towards the water’s surface causing the filtered light of the sun to become diffused and the spaces in between the stipes and the sand below almost deep bluish purple. No matter how much he would like to travel deeper, he couldn’t less he wanted to get lost or tangled in the deep purple blades and he only could hold his breath so long after all.

Steven knew it was safer to collect kelp that gathered on the rocks and beach, but there was something he wanted, something you could only get if the seaweed was fresh enough…


With a kick of his legs, Steven swam to the plant's base and pulled out a hand-made knife he had hooked into the waist loops of his shorts. The blade was just longer than the length of his hand, made of a black crystalline material he’d found on one of his excursions deeper into the jungle and it made quick work as it sliced through the stipe of the kelp till it floated free before following the length of the stalk up towards the light.

For a moment after he’d broke the water's surface and took his first breath of air for a while, Steven just floated there. The top of the kelp gripping it firmly in his grasp, not wanting it to get washed away with the flow of the current. A few beats later he righted himself and started the arduous task of pulling and looping the long rope of kelp up into something he could swim with without it getting snagged on any coral on his swim back.

Frank was intrigued. He hadn't seen any signs of people living here the last time, but he hadn't actually had time to look. Had this structure been here then, too? He tested it, touching the sunbleached wood, and crouching down to try and look inside. Must have been. Maybe? He couldn't tell how old these things were.

Standing up, he pushed his curly hair back and squinted out across the beach, looking for any signs of the theoretical inhabitant. If there was one, shouldn't there be an entire civilization? Frank took a deep breath, cupping his hands to his mouth. "HEEEEY." He turned in a circle, watching and listening for a response, the startled sounds of tropical birds...

Oh shit, no--what if someone had gotten shipwrecked here instead. The thought struck him with sudden worry. What if they'd been here during his first visit? He looked back at the structure and started walking parallel to the beach. They were probably gone, then. He could spend time looking... He didn't know how much time he had. He could already feel his vibe fading, and that coloured his thoughts with anxiety. Frank fumbled for his notebook, writing down a Designation for this version of the island, and a short description. He wanted to circle the entire island, but he knew he wouldn't make it far.

So he finished up his quick note and dug his heels into the sand again, half-humming a tune under his breath to give himself some traction to work up a rhythm to, a twirl, a spin, and gone again.

Hauling the catch back to the shore had tired Steven during his first few months of gathering. Had left him star-shaped on the dark sands, gulping for air with sometimes less than a third of what he could gather now. But now, he could make two trips easily and didn't need to rest before bundling his prize to take back to his home to prepare the kelp for cleaning, drying, and storing.

Steven plopped himself down next to his belongings, humming a soft melody under his breath as he began winding the kelp between a square wooden structure he’d built to keep it in place for easier transportation. He paused for a moment to squeeze the excess water from his bun, not really caring if he got sand in his hair- He could always wash it out back at his base, when he heard something on the wind-

“ Rick James: Super freak.” Came the staticy voice from under his belongings suddenly, drawing Steven’s attention away as he pulled his phone free from his bag. He was amazed the device had lasted this long- it had its own little built-in solar panel for easy charging- One of his more satisfying phone wins back in the day- and cases were near enough indestructible nowadays…. No, he was more amazed the thing inside it was still there…

“Wrong, old man. Like I’d sing anything funky on purpose.” He chuckled, mentally checking another point to himself in this weird ‘Guess the song.’ game he had going on with the bastard residing in his phone. They weren’t friends, could n e v e r be friends… but sometimes hearing and talking to another voice helped break up the monotony of talking to yourself all day and the plain old silence.

“‘Can’t touch this.’ You gotta stop falling for the old sampling trick, you're losing so badly.”

Steven could hear the small staticy huff and tut followed by a string of grumbling as he finished securing his catch, collected his things and made a move to go. He lived not too far inland, near a stream he had remembered had been on the ‘other’ island

He’d given up calling it home anymore since it… wasn’t anymore- He had found on his many excursions on the island whilst it was still being built as a kid. It was of those rare childhood memories that stuck out for some reason, he had only fallen in the stream and cried and his mum had to get him out and carried him- it wasn't really exceptional memory and they had of course moved the direction of the water once the island was completed, but here on ‘home island’ it was still there…

-
Before he entered the treeline, he peered down the end of the beach one last time- faintly remembering he needed to finish the replica shop he was building, it could be his ‘beachside property’ once he was finished…

Eh, he’d get on it tomorrow.
(tw talking bout bad brain and death thoughts in paragraph 2+3 … also some blood, talks about previous injuries and light gore overall in this section )

Steven’s lungs burned and his muscles ached as he barrelled through the overgrowth, sweat and blood splattering on the oversized leaves as he pushed and hacked them out of his way.

This was meant to be just a little excursion towards the center of the island, towards UGHQ. Something he hadn’t really wanted to do- partly because he knew his old home, his club, his previous Boss’s club, the place that held a lot of memories, good and bad, wouldn't be there. He’d felt it had been long enough though, he had gone through the bouts waves of raw emotions he was unable to bury anymore and just tumbled out of him so uncontrollably that would leave him heaving on the floor, his throat and eyes sore and red, his body spent for days to the point that he’d just lay there doing nothing. Wanted to be N O T H I N G, even if it was just for a while.

And sure, there were days where he felt like that still. He’d do something that reminded him of the other island and get upset or he’d have intrusive thoughts that floated to the surface sometimes while he was doing something possibly dangerous up high or held something sharp but it was more manageable now, and was able to rationalize most of them away.

It was fine to be upset and angry or happy or whatever he wanted to feel, to show it even if it was to an audience of one. And it felt… good.

Grief hadn’t won before and it still hadn’t won yet.

...

But the thing chasing him right now might achieve what the bad moments couldn’t.

Steven almost tumbled face first into a clearing, but years of breaking were so ingrained into his very being that he’d had his hand out already, planted it, and followed the motion into a flip til he was back on his feet-

He didn’t think he could lose it, it probably had his scent with how heavily his face and arm were bleeding right, his chest, bag straps and phone were slick with it- He’d hadn’t dared to wipe at his face again after the first time when he felt what he thought might be bone- Bile rose in his throat for a moment but he was able to swallow hard -

He’d only come across small …odd critters on the island of course- The Step Project hadn’t ravaged this island’s natural habitat, and also he’d come across old shells, almost up to his chest in waist height. But they were abandoned and crumbling and bleached by the sun, long dead…. But this one - There was a sudden crack just beyond the tree line that had Steven on highest alert, his long knife of obsidian stone at the ready.

He’d had fought so many fucking monsters on his old island. He been cut open, gored, blown up, crushed with gravity, broken and battered, burned and electrocuted. He’d been in timeless voids, his body stretched beyond its limits and lost his arm… His home… his family…

Vendies may have healed all the physical scars and stitched his body back together but he survived.

He’d survived Bonita, he had survived James fucking Cornell (who had thankfully been quiet after a short while of running) and Greg Dorian.

He raised his knife and kept his eyes trained on the location the cracking and clacking noise grew as the creature neared.

Not today, you fucker. I’m not done yet.

Three... Two... One. The world bled out of focus, like abstract art, until it finally came together again. Not on those bizarre beach-sides, but in the middle of lush mauve forests.

Click.

The sound of Frank starting the stopwatch wasn’t even audible over the din of the forest, and he was so preoccupied by making sure every check was done before he began, that the immediate, startling crash that proceeded his arrival took extra seconds to register.

“MUDDER A’—" Frank slammed into the ground. He’d startled something. Something that clearly wasn’t concerned about him as it made some horrific sound, but wasn’t deterred from its initial blood-frenzied hunt. Frank still instinctively covered his curly head as the thing furiously crashed around him and away after its original prey, following an unknown Scent with much fervor.

As soon as he was sure it was no longer directly on top of him, he scrambled up from the underbrush, observing the continued cacophony of startled animals. What was that? He was smart enough not to stick around, in case whatever That was thought him an easier prey; the ‘dito immediately took off in the exact opposite direction he’d heard it go. He’d seen fuck all, and he was fine with that for now.

Out of breath and uncomfortably Damp in the hot, humid forest, Frank burst out of the trees into sand and loam. Not quite the beach, but he could see it from here. Hoping he’d put enough distance, the man doubled over to catch his breath and to check his legs for scrapes. Skinny jeans probably weren’t the best protection against twigs, but they’d served.

Well, he wasn’t dead yet. Sinking down onto a rock, Frank checked his stopwatch. He’d done several experiments with vibe conservation before coming back here, hoping to better estimate how much time he’d have before he couldn’t get back. This would be the first test of his calculations. Finding he still had plenty of time, he tucked it into a pocket and pulled out his phone instead.

He didn’t expect any bars, and only switched to his camera app to start taking shots. The painterly shades of purples and teals were breathtaking—and his phone had no idea how to capture the weird exposure of this alien-like island. He chuckled, stood, and trudged through the sand, trying to adjust the settings.

The walk back to one of his bases had left Steven a little lightheaded and worse for wear, the last of his adrenaline that had gotten him this far had worn off a few minutes back on the trail.

He didn’t dare stop to treat his wounds, however, lest the creature came back for round two. He kept the pressure on the worst of his wounds the best he could periodically, not wanting to put his weapon away, but he’d come out a lot fairer compared to the beast, his spoils strapped to his lower back- A large, spiked claw. Its protrusions poking him ever so often, jolting him awake whenever he felt faint-

Yes, there was definitely something there. He could have been a very elaborate mirage. How much blood had Steven lost?

Frank was still wandering around with his phone out like a bloody tourist, even pausing at one point, spinning lazily on the ball of one foot and flipping the camera around with one hand to take the goofiest of selfies (sunglasses, dazzling grin) like he wasn't risking becoming a castaway survivor like Steven, just by being here.

He'd taken his shoes off at some point, and was carrying them by two fingers in his free hand, feeling the sand between his toes as he walked. That stopped when a timer went off. The blond fellow looked down, pulling the stopwatch from his pocket. Frank went pursed-lipped, pensive. Not about to test the limitations of this. He slipped the watch and his phone away, pulling his shoes back on. He'd made quite a few tracks through the sand already, left trails of his presence behind--because who would find them?

And then he did something that was altogether too familiar. Enough buildup to recognize exactly what he was doing. A little dance, a little twirl, concentration on his brow as he stretched a leg out, managing surprising grace in the sand. He hummed, to give himself a tune. It was still uncomfortable--expecting to feel the vibe build up as he danced, but knowing it wouldn't--but he trusted that he still had enough 'saved up' to make it back. He'd studied how long it took his vibe to deplete, set it down to a timer; he was sure he had enough still. Right?

Frank pushed any doubt away, worked up to a grand jeté and took the leap (even if he couldn't quite get the Height on the slippery sand--he thought he saw someone in the distance as he moved mid-air), and disappeared.

What he'd left behind couldn't entirely be explained away by Nature. Footprints, and while the dry ones caved in easily, wet ones trailed the water's edge. Up and down, not quite to one of Steven's buildings. And sunglasses left forgotten on a rock he'd used as a seat (aw man, those were his favourite!).

Minutes seemed to drag on hours as Steven kept his gaze locked on the figure on the sand… He seen someone… something like this on the island before years ago- He’d remembered James getting a dig in at him every moment he could for the first few months of him allegedly ‘seeing it’, calling him crazy for seeing people who weren’t there, not really understanding what the hell the older man was talking about because he couldn’t remember seeing anyone before, but now he could… and so why did he deny he couldn’t?

It didn’t make any sense…

Steven pushed away from the shadow of the tree that had concealed his presence and stepped out onto the beach just moments before the ‘thing’ disappeared from sight with a… grand jeté and leap-? Maybe it was the blood loss talking, made him think it was that, but he still practiced ballet enough that he’d not forgotten what the moves looked like-

“James… Remind me to come back here in the morning. I left my blade here.” Steven hissed out the good corner of his mouth as he threw the blade near where the thing had been before he turned to make his way back to his base. Not bleeding out was still first on his light headed list and passing out looking for evidence of this ‘someone’ didn’t really appeal to him much to him right now if it meant dying.

“Saw someone again… Blonde, tall, white.. Remind me… Please. Even if I forget.”

All he got back was silence.

His phone, still caked with blood didn’t reply back to him even when Steven had gotten his wounds sealed up the best he could with what he had on hand. He’d found and cultivated plant sap akin to superglue when it dried to seal most of the damage and gore- It was messy but it held his face and wounds together good enough.

It wasn’t till he woke up the next day that his phone finally responded to him, well after Steven had eaten, or done his best to eat without opening his mouth too much, or had cleaned all his belongings of blood with sluggish movements, or even had boil the claw of that creature he’d fought the night before, and reminded him about his little memo.

Steven didn’t believe James at first and kind of hated him more than usual for even suggesting he move, let alone walk the 100 or so feet back down the beach to find evidence of someone he didn’t see, especially with him feeling so weak right now…

James was spiteful and cruel and full of shit. But his blade wasn’t here and that bother him.

He had more, but that one was his.

He’d made the journey back down the beach, body stiff and jaw aching till he came across his blade where he’d left it. He grumbled a bit as he dusted it off, wondering why he’d leave his blade here of all places. He didn’t remember walking around here last night, even though there were signs of something passing here…

Hm… Steven spotted and toed a partial footprint in the sand, it only still visible as the sand was still moist from when the tide had retreated. Steven stepped on one of the tracks, spotted another and stepped on that one. Then another and another, almost as if following them might trigger off a memory from last night, but all he drawn nothing but blanks.

This was a waste of time… He started to make his way back home, passing by the rocks the footprints had leaded him and -

He froze.

What the fuck…

What the actual fuck?

Slightly trembling fingers touched against the cool lens of the shades that sat upon the rock- they were there.

They were a c t u a l l y there, tangible and solid and just… real!

He picked them up, squeezed them gently and felt the frame flex under his grip.

… James wasn’t lying.

Someone was here!

And now they weren’t and he couldn’t remember a god damn thing.

What the fuck was happening?

---

-X107-

Suffocating darkness wasn’t something Steven hadn't though he get used to once again, but curiosity got the better of him once again.

The natural forming tunnels seemed to stretch on for miles under the island with twists and turns and a mix of elevations that had left Steven hot and moist to the touch.

‘Just a few minutes more.’ Had been his mantra now for the past hour, taking him deeper and deeper into the earth. The air was warm, the walls were wet and p u l s e d …

....

Just a few minutes more and he’d turn back….