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This had to end now.
Verity, the mod, the monster, whatever it was, because waiting had already caused so much damage—irreparable damage—and Mob wasn’t going to give it another chance to try again, no matter how many times he had forgiven it in the past, not when it had already proved itself irredeemable, a monster by its own volition.
And to think he’d even once entertained the idea of forgiving it, that he’d seriously considered turning a blind eye to the devastation it had brought upon his world—the dead villagers, ruined homes, relentless torment, and for what?
Mob wouldn’t go so far as to call himself a lonely man—after all, he did have friends—but even then, he couldn’t deny that Verity’s presence made him feel a certain way, a strange mixture of something akin to adoration and comfort that he felt ashamed to admit aloud, born from the all-too-familiar human urge to not be alone.
Again, Mob wasn’t a lonely man by any definition of the word, but he couldn’t help it. The knowledge that there was someone or something out there who thought about him constantly, who waited for him to return, who was satisfied by his presence alone—was an intoxicating idea.
But Mob knew better than to sip on poison, no matter how sweet it tasted, because at the end of the day, Verity had thrown away its fleeting chance at redemption the moment it put its hands on Twixxel, when it had torn him apart and killed him, sprayed him across the four walls of his home, guts and all.
Mob remembered the way he’d first felt after stumbling upon the grisly sight—a mixture of nausea and fear—not of Verity, not entirely, but about what it had done. Maybe it was because a part of Mob wished he could still forgive Verity, to find it in himself to let go of its sins, but that window had long since passed. Now, all that was left was the unforgivable stain of Twixxel’s blood, and the dawning realization that Verity had to be stopped.
Mob was sure of it, as sure as the sky was blue, and even if he couldn’t save Twixxel, he could still stop Verity, and put an end to that story of madness once and for all.
A moth flew by his head, snapping Mob out of his quiet reverie.
Right… The book.
He pulled it from his pockets—his winning ace—the small leather-bound volume fluttering as he flipped it open, reading under the dim moonlight, skimming the passages until he landed on one sentence.
You have to force him to stop.
Mob closed the book with a snap, allowing it to slowly slip back into his pockets as he continued, boots crunching across the dry grass of the midnight plains, towards the lone beacon of light far in the distance:
Home.
***
The front door creaked as Mob pushed it aside, it felt inappropriately loud for a place so silent, and he cringed as he stepped inside, moving as slowly as he could to avoid disturbing the floorboards. Inside, the wall-mounted torches cast long shadows across the spare furniture, shadows that seemed to twist and turn as he walked past them, distorting in the flickering firelight.
Verity was predictably nowhere in sight, but what he lacked in immediate presence, he made up for with his handiwork—splatters of red against the walls, bits of clotted liquid pooling in divots on the floor, and a drying trail dripped onto the ground, one that led around the central stairs, curving away until it was out of sight against the intersection of the wall and the steps.
Mob squinted, adjusting his eyes.
There, in the corner where the light simply refused to reach, was the cause of the liquid—a gleaming smile of too many teeth, followed by a pair of eyes that glistened in the darkness like wet marbles.
Mob froze, his throat drying. “Verity?”
The sound of his voice seemed to awaken the thing, and it shifted from its seated position, gangly limbs seeming to rattle in place as it turned to face him. Then, as quickly as the motion had begun, it was completely still. “Mob,” it said, voice airy with an emotion that could’ve been mistaken for surprise. “You… actually came back.”
“Yeah. I—I guess I did.” Mob took a shaky step forward, before stopping entirely.
What exactly was his plan again? Getting it to stop was the goal, sure, but what about the steps? Was he supposed to tell it off? Have a talk with the thing and convince it to… stop existing?
Shit.
They hadn’t even started a real conversation yet, and he was already losing.
What am I—
Mob’s mind raced as he stood there, face hidden by the sharp shadow he cast across the oaken floor, but Verity didn’t seem to care about the man’s sudden silence. If anything, the creature seemed newly energized as it inched forward, scooting across the hard ground, squelching blood every now and then as it closed the distance between the two of them. Once it was within arm’s reach, Verity stretched forward in one animated lunge, wrapping its fingers around the man’s body faster than he could scream.
The only thing Mob felt before being plunged into the darkness of the corner was the woosh of air against his skin, followed by the dizzying realization of where he was, somewhere close to the floor but a few inches above it—Verity’s lap.
The thing had settled Mob on its legs like some kind of doll, a toy to be positioned and played with, rather than a grown man, although in this case, with their sizes in consideration, it wasn’t that wild of a comparison. If anything, it was actually pretty accurate.
Verity was as tall as a house—somewhere around twelve feet, enough to knock his head on ceilings if he were to stand upright, or peek into second-story windows. Mob on the other hand was nowhere near that height… Maybe half, potentially a few inches over half, but definitely not twelve feet tall.
Verity shifted again, loosening its bony grip as it repositioned itself around him, like a giant hornet shuffling over his frame, thin body rubbing against him as arms came to replace fingers, now wrapped around him in what could’ve been mistaken for a hug. His back was pressed against his chest, and its head was somewhere above him, watching. Mob didn’t look.
“I’m so glad you made the right choice.” Verity purred in his ear. “I can take care of you.” As if to prove its point, it gave him a gentle squeeze, although all Mob could imagine was the image of a water balloon popping, its innards meeting the outside air as it deflated. “You can trust me, Mob. Please. You’re safe with me.”
Mob gulped, all the muscles of his body so tense it hurt to speak. “This—this has to stop.”
A low hum vibrated through his body, chattering his teeth as Verity considered his words. Its voice was low as it spoke, a facsimile of a servant’s voice, low and humble. “No-can-do, sir.” He caught the flash of its too-bright smile from the corner of his eye, all teeth. “I can’t risk letting you make even more dangerous mistakes, can I?” It hummed again. “It’s better here, when we’re together like this.”
Mob took a deep breath, steadying himself, although all that seemed to do was press his back even further into the thing’s chest. “No. It’s not.” He cleared his throat, voice still pathetically squeaky. “You’ve fucked everything up, you’re a monster, you’ve killed my friend. How is that any better?”
Verity paused at the words, even the quiet shuffling entirely gone now, and for a moment, Mob thought he’d said too much—that he’d finally ran its patience thin, and that his head would be next on its platter, until the creature let out a hissing chuckle.
“Mob…”
He ignored the bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Or was it blood? Drool? “What?”
“You wanna know what’s actually fucked up?”
Mob blinked.
What?
“Come on, Mob—answer me.” Its voice had dropped low, low enough that it rumbled through him like a quiet tremor,bypassing his ears and travelling directly through his back.
After a few moments of silence, it sighed. “Fine. If you don’t wanna answer that, then I’ll do it for you, it’s my job anyways, right?” Mob was about to speak again—to say anything, until the sensation of something heavy rested atop his head. It didn’t take him long to realize the sharp protrusion he had felt was Verity’s chin. The thing had rested its head on top of his like some twisted cat, and was now mumbling into his hair as it spoke.
“You never treat me like a person.” Then, in a softer voice. “Am I not enough of a person for you, Mob?”
“I…” Mob was supposed to have this under control. He was supposed to end this. Instead, he was sitting there wrapped in its arms, completely useless, like a sack of potatoes. Mob bit his tongue hard as he thought of something to say, but Verity interrupted him.
“Because it certainly feels that way, with how you treat me sometimes…” It mumbled. “Like something to be disposed of.” A pause. “Do you think I’m not a person? Do you think I don’t deserve this?”
Mob felt the weight on top of his head lift, before coming to rest on his shoulder, pressing deep into the flesh there, cold and heavy. He turned slightly, just enough to catch the sight of Verity’s yellow head buried in the crook of his neck. Its voice was muffled as it spoke. “I just want to be near you, Mob. I just want to be with you.” It paused. “Is that too much to ask for?”
Mob felt his words catch in his throat. “But, Twixxel… You—”
Verity gave him a soft nuzzle. “He got in the way—our way. But I fixed it, and it’s just the two of us again, the way it was always meant to be.” He felt the weight lift once more. Verity was looking at him again.
Mob should’ve screamed, he should’ve swung, he should’ve turned and pushed that thing away, because this was wrong, he was letting it get into his head, but his mind was frozen, his body was still wrapped up in those arms, and all he could do was listen.
Verity let out a soft sigh, the sound of wind across rows of blood-stained teeth. “And when you’re around I don’t feel as hungry anymore, just… happy.” Then, softer. “You make me feel good Mob, did you know that?”
The pressure returned—Verity was nuzzling him again.
“You don’t know what you do to me.”
Mob let out a choked sob. What the hell was he doing? Just sitting there and letting this happen? This wasn’t a sobfest for the monster, he was here to do something, and he had to find a way to fix this now before—
Mob was shaken by the sudden sensation of patting against his chest, long fingers rubbing against his sternum. He looked around, confused, before his eyes locked onto the book, which now lay on the floor.
Shit.
Verity must have felt it in his pocket while he was distracted, while it was moving around, while he was busy panicking.
“Verity it’s not what it looks like—”
The thing let out a one-toned chuckle, quiet and soft. “Relax, Mob. I’m not mad at you.” It patted him once more on the chest, reassuring. “You just have a habit of making bad choices—like trusting the wrong people, but that’s why I’m here, right?” It pointed to the book. “Someone put a stupid idea in your head, and I was there to fish it out. We make each other better that way, don’t we?” Mob turned his head slightly. Verity was no longer buried in his shoulder, choosing instead to rest its chin there, meeting eyes with him.
“For future reference though, I wouldn’t try keeping secrets like that, Mob.” Verity let out a soft whine, like a hurt puppy. “And didn’t I already tell you? I. Know. Everything. I know what’s in that book, and it’s only partially right, anyways.”
Mob stared, dumbfounded.
“It’s right that I won’t hurt you, but it’s wrong that I’m defeatable,” Verity chuckled, “because nothing can stop me, not even you, Mob, because I’ll make sure we stay together forever even if you don’t understand why yet, because I know deep in that head of yours, this is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
Mob shook his head. “I’m not—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, Mob. We’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Mob shook his head. “No no no—let me go, please.” He turned to face it, eyes begging, only to be met with an unmoving smile. In retrospect, it was a mistake returning to this place, thinking that he could defeat something so unknowable, and Verity had already made its choice long before Mob had ever stepped foot into the house, but then again, Mob always had a penchant for making mistakes. That’s why he had downloaded the mod. That’s why Twixxel had died. And most damning of all, that’s why he had met Verity.
“But you’re so warm, Mob, and I don’t think I will.”