“You ignorant dumb dumb!” Norman blurted, pointing a brazen finger at his captor.

John Crow raised an eyebrow. His dreadlocks angled towards Norman, attracted by his brash behaviour.

Norman didn’t flinch.

John Crow chuckled and fanned away the hair tendrils. After knowing what he could do? People didn’t usually talk to him like that, not even the proud and stubborn landlords. It was a foolish way to die fast. Was Norman a fool? Maybe. Maybe not. After all, he was still alive, wasn’t he? Perhaps he had, somehow, gauged the chances that such disrespect would get him killed, and found them lacking. Human instincts were fascinating like that, after all.

At the side of his eye, John Crow glanced at the chat on his pilfered nightsight.

__CHAT

* LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: 🤣 🤣 🤣 Norman just doesn’t care!

* ARN74: 😡 give the stoopid boy back his nightsight

* DARCIE222: 😍 GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER!!! I CAN FIX YOU!

* JOHN CROW: .̶͇̦̽̃̂͝What if I fix you instead, Darcie Willows?.̶̧̜͓͛́͆͝

* DARCIE222: HELPPPPPP! I'M DOWN! 🥰

* JOHN CROW: .̵͇͔̪͇̐̃͒̀͜Be careful what you wish for, Miss Willows..̷̝͒̂̿̀̏͝

* DARCIE222: did I stutter, baby girl? 😘😘😘

He decided to ignore them, buncha weirdos.

Meanwhile, Norman paced in little circles, rubbing his chin, clearly anxious. The worst part? The nyctal sensed that this nervous behaviour had nothing to do with his ability to instill terror. Norman took another look at John Crow, shook his head with abject disdain and continued pacing.

After massaging his forehead, Norman turned to the nyctal. “And you kidnapped Amy’s boyfriend as bait?”

John Crow shrugged a nod.

Norman’s face contorted with derision as he shook his head at the decision like a foul smell. He face-palmed and began to pace again.

Not really knowing what was going on, the landlord beneath John Crow’s heels began to chuckle. All that mattered was that his master was getting dissed by this boy!

One of John Crow’s dreadlocks flicked against the landlord’s arm and he collapsed. It looked like an accident, but most definitely wasn’t. The muscles twitched, nerves half-useless.

“.̸̲̮͔̼̗͂́̿‘Ey, straighten up, will you?.̶͚̝̦͛̈́̃̌̀̆” ordered John Crow.

The landlord felt the icy chill of more dreadlocks hovering close in the dark. He forced his limb back beneath him, pouring his fear and focus into keeping it there.

Norman rubbed his hands together, inhaled and exhaled, as if trying to meditate away the ambient stupidity.

“Get on the ground. Now,” Norman ordered.

“.̸͍̲̇̿́̀… Excuse me?.̷̝͒̂̿̀̏͝” John Crow smirked.

Norman pointed at the floor. “Get down and beg. Then I’ll know that you mean it so I can genuinely cry and beg on your behalf when Amy comes looking for blood.”

John Crow scanned Norman’s face. His dreadlocks licked at the air around the boy’s head. He sensed no insincerity. Strange …

“.̵͔͚̻̬̊͐͝And you thought … what? Telling me that would compel me to comply?.̴͚̘̮͓̆̄̌̈” leered the nyctal. “.̵̰̃Save some stupid for yourself, Norman..̶̧̜͓͛́͆͝”

“Do you believe Hell exists?” Norman asked out of the blue.

John Crow looked at him funny and scoffed.

“Right. Of course not,” Norman tutted. “In your line of your line of work, you’d like to think you die, and that’s it. Quick or temporary pain, then nothing. Here’s the thing: Amy knows that. She’s not gonna make it quick. She’s not gonna make it temporary. She is not gonna kill you. If you were some run-of-the-mill nyctal acting on impulse, she’d just hand you over to the authorities, but that’s not the impression I’m getting here. You seem like the kind of bad guy who just keeps coming back. Amy won’t let that happen. Remember, she’s got the power of a mind-eater. She can browse your memories, find out what you love about yourself, and take it away; dig up your fears and bring them to life. She can make you forget that there was ever a time when you weren’t living a nightmare. Amy doesn’t kill villains. She breaks them, and takes their ability to rise again. If you don’t fear Hell … all the better. She’ll make you forget that you’re still in the land of the living. Now. Beg. Like you mean it, while you still can.”

John Crow waved a hand. “.̵͔͚̻̬̊͐͝Pass. There’s no way a straight lace like you would date someone like that. Besides, a good hostage goes a long way. You have given me some ideas, though. If you cooperate, maybe I won’t kill the both of you. Maybe I’ll get a little more creative..̴͚̘̮͓̆̄̌̈”

A slapping sound rang throughout the room. Norman had face-palmed again.

John Crow snorted. “.̵̰̃Of all the ploys, hyping up that ditzy little twit? I’ve seen the news like everyone else. Amy is a kitten in a lion’s body, little more than a bumbling idiot. How she took control of an A.M.E. is beyond me..̶̧̜͓͛́͆͝”

Norman’s fists balled, teeth gnashed. John Crow expected him to fly at him, or spout tidbits about why he was wrong. Possibly both. Both would be fun and fine.

“Oh, you’re trying to make me tell you how she mastered the A.M.E.,” Norman deduced, his aggression draining.

John Crow’s dreadlocks briefly froze as his thoughts stumbled to a stop. ~.̵̝̗̜̫͔͒̿͊̚̕… How did he catch on so fast.̴̩̪̓͑͋?~

Norman looked up at the dreadlocks as they slowly resumed their dance. He cracked a grin that made John Crow want to pluck out his teeth.

“Uh huh. Thought so,” concluded Norman. “That thing on your head’s not getting any smaller. I’m guessing it’s a baby, or maybe you stunted it. It’s obviously not as powerful as Amy. Are you worried it’ll bite off your head someday, or are you planning to merge with it? Become the new apex predator?”

John Crow frowned. The chat reacted at the edge of his vision.

__CHAT

* INQU!SIT_R: HE’S WEARING AN A.M.E.? LIKE A WIG???

* ENTO_MOLLY: Intriguing twist. How does that even work?

* ARN74: if dat ting doesn’t eat off he head, I will 😡

* ARN74: 🤔 nvm. that level of stupid would probably kill me

John Crow leaned back in his chair, taking the annoyances in stride.

“.̵̘͙̮̆́̍̎̕A.M.E.s are not what you think they are,.̶̪̦͔͖̰̫̄͒͋̋͘” John Crow revealed.

Norman raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Really? What do you think I think they are?”

John Crow tilted his head. “.̴̯͍̳́̾̓̑Mere monsters. Beasts..̶͇̦̽̃̂͝”

Norman’s brow wrinkled. A smile twitched at his lips before he guffawed.

“You think I’d be this cozy with Amy if I thought she was in the body of some beast?” he asked.

John Crow narrowed his gaze upon Norman, reevaluating him.

“.̶̢̛̻͚͔͈͗̏̚… You know the truth?.̵͍̾̈́͆̏́ͅ” asked John Crow.

“Maaaaaybe,” Norman simpered.

An ice-cold touch brushed across his forehead. It nipped at his mind.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

He blacked out.

Norman awoke on the ground in a cold sweat. Steadying his breathing, he looked up to see that John Crow hadn’t shifted much. A contemplative silence had fallen upon the nyctal. The landlord’s afflicted limb still quivered. If Norman had to guess, he’d blacked out for only a few seconds, but it was impossible to know for certain.

“.̴̱̯̳̐̈́̿̓͠You only know in part,.̵͇͔̪͇̐̃͒̀͜” John Crow stated. “.̵̛̹̖̳̳̯̑How?.̵̧̤̜̣̜͚̓”

It was strange, seeing Norman stagger to his feet like a borderline paralytic, yet the savage grin on his face told a different story.

“The same way I know you’re gonna lose,” Norman growled.

He glanced to the side. John Crow sensed a subtle change in the air. He had to know. A dreadlock writhed towards Norman’s head. It smelt his brainwaves. The scent was off.

Norman swatted away the dreadlock like a fly.

The tall man was at a loss. Yes, that lock was only a fraction of Dread’s power, but for a normal guy to smack it away? It was like casually trying to squish an ant with a pinky finger. Then the ant pushed back, and it won.

Norman strode towards him, limbs twitching ever so slightly. It was not from fear. That was only the residual effects of the dreadlock on his nerves. John Crow’s focus riveted upon him, neglecting whatever lurked in the air. Even seated, the nyctal was taller than Norman, but in John Crow’s eyes?

Norman looked big.

How fascinating, thought the nyctal.

“Let me give you the bare minimum reason why you’re gonna lose,” Norman began. “It’s the same reason why you’ll never master an A.M.E. the way she does. You expect Amy to come at you, thinking in black, white and maybe greys, but that’s not her ‘normal’. She thinks in infrared and ultraviolet: red-hot, radioactive, only visible when the damage is done. She forces herself into monochrome because it’s the only way she knows how to be normal, but all she needs is a reason. You just gave her that reason. You kidnapped her boyfriend. The perfect hostage answers everything, right? No. She’s not gonna beg. She won’t negotiate. Play your cards very carefully, and don’t ever let her see you lay a hand on me. I’m going to tell you a secret, and you’re going to call me a liar.”

Norman leant forward.

John Crow leant back.

“Amy’s afraid of her own shadow,” Norman whispered.

John Crow blinked.

Norman’s gaze was dead serious.

The nyctal’s bemusement turned to amusement. He huffed a laugh.

“.̴̜̟̦͚̲̯̄̂̆̉Fear?.̶̦͚̤̤̼͂” John Crow jibed. “.̸̡̐͋That’s the secret to mastering an A.M.E.? What a painfully cliché idea. You can’t fearmonger a monster, Norman. Next time, come up with something more creative, assuming there will be a next-.̴͎̰̤̀̃”

“Not your shadow. Her shadow,” Norman interrupted.

John Crow raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone's got a shadow,” Norman mused. “The ugliest, most unthinkable side of you that never sees the light of day. The Night Shift sets it free, but Amy? She hasn’t changed at all. Ask yourself, why? It’s ‘cause this isn’t new for her. Amy’s laughed with it, played with it, lived in it. Her shadow’s big enough to black out The Sun, and you know what? She decided it just wasn’t worth it.

“So, she stutters. She shrinks back, second guesses herself to the point of self-sabotage. She acts like the nicest girl in the world, because she is ... but that's just the way she tiptoes around herself. Amy’d rather shoot her own foot before you even realise there's a bullet. You'll see her hopping around on one leg. You might even laugh, but you never see the bullet that was meant for you. She'll let you think she's a simpering wimp, because that's the better option.

“Amy doesn't have empathy. She chooses it, and she's not faking. She jury rigs her personality through sheer force of will. Let that sink in. She’s actually a genius, but her brilliance is black as midnight. What looks like incompetence is her way of aborting old thought processes before they surface. She's teaching herself how to think all over again. Baby steps, but make no mistake: those old thought processes? They're all on standby, waiting for someone like you to give them a reason.

“Tell me, Johnny, what does it take to override your own soul? Have you ever even tried? Amy did. She does it every day, and ohhh, I does love she baaad for it. Now you understand how she beat her A.M.E. into submission. It’s not her first monster.”

Norman paused, staring into the nyctal’s eyes. John Crow considered tearing his mind out there and then, but those weird brainwaves were back. He could almost see the shadow. No, the light of something big looming behind Norman’s mind. He had to rethink that. BIG … didn’t begin to cut it. He felt them: eyes the size of worlds, bearing down upon him. He knew what an unholy presence felt like. He liked to think that he was one of them. This was Something Else, and it was far, far worse.

He kept a straight face, but in the depths of himself he heard his soul scream. Was there something out there more horrifying than the forces behind The Night Shift?

Was there something more terrible than a monster?

John Crow felt his face twitch. A strange, white-hot terror seeped into his skull from the A.M.E. atop it. His eyes widened at a piercing sound. Was that Dread … screeching?

Norman cracked a smirk. He chuckled, then clutched his stomach as a roaring belly laugh surged forth.

John Crow’s dreadlocks hissed a warning as his ego seethed, but there was another laugh behind Norman’s. It sent shockwaves of searing terror through John Crow’s being.

Norman made as though to pat him on the shoulder. John Crow decided there and then that he would die if he actually did it. The hand landed, but he didn’t move. Maybe he couldn’t. His body shook with wrath.

Norman sighed away the last of his mirth as he looked John Crow in the eye. Pity nuanced his features.

“You’re not cut out for this,” Norman declared. “No one is. Just stop. Walk away. Tell the landlords you quit. Maybe anyone can do what Amy does, if they try the right way. Give it a shot. If you need a little help, come find me. This might be your last chance.”

Flabbergasted though he was, John Crow couldn’t believe his ears. Finally, some bravado seeped back into his veins. That old, shark-like grin returned to his face as he gripped the hand on his shoulder and removed it, while squeezing. Ordinarily, he’d feel a couple bones snap. None did, but Norman was bound to be in pain. Stubborn boy, refusing to scream.

“.̸̩͑̋̒͘Look at you, acting as though your words hold any power over your predicament,.̴̖̲̖͐͑̀̎” John Crow sneered. “.̴͚̠̝͚̎̄́̅͠I always find a way to get what I want, and Amy? She’s gonna find what’s left of your body in a-.̴͚͇͚̍̿̆̐̐̐͜”

*BBBBMMMM!*

John Crow’s eyes popped.

The air seemed come crashing in on him. His eardrums could survive the atmospheric shock of a grenade blast, but now? They almost ruptured.

He pushed back. His darkness held it all at bay just long enough for him to grab Norman by the hair. He dangled the boy high like a ragdoll of a trophy.

Dozens of claws receded into the shadows. They’d almost reached him. Their owners peering back at him with piercing eyes. Somehow, they were darker than the shadows Dread spawned throughout the room. That was the only reason why he could vaguely see their silhouettes. They looked like Amy’s avatars, but the vibe was several levels of wrong.

How did she get this close? Wait … had Norman been distracting him the whole time?

John Crow tightened his grip. Norman’s hair tugged at the roots. It was a pity that the boy wasn’t making those delicious, little whimpers. That would really sell it. Surely Norman could at least wiggle a little. Trust that boy to be a poor hostage. How John Crow would have loved to make him scream.

He reached for Norman’s throat.

The enemy atmosphere bore down harder, forcing his focus back to keeping it away. Dread’s power was almost completely occupied with the job. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Why would his maximum just happen to be enough to hold her back? The answer was obvious.

It wasn’t.

She hadn’t overpowered him, because she wasn’t trying. Maybe, just maybe, he could hurt Norman before she intervened. Naturally, she wouldn’t want to take that chance. That didn’t mean the odds were on his side, though.

John Crow forced a grin. “Pick your next move carefully, Amy. Maybe you’re far stronger than I am. Maybe you can get to Norman before I punch a hole through his stomach, but are you willing to take the chance?”

The shadow avatars didn’t react. They barely glanced at Norman, beady eyes fixed on John Crow.

The avatars exchanged hissing whispers.

"Who is that?"

"Familiar ..."

"I know him."

"YES."

"John Crow."

“Elusive. Ruthless. High body count.”

“Hee hee, he’s a mȍ̵̳̈́̔̅nster!”

"We foū̴͔͐̀nd you!"

One by one, manic grins spread across the avatars’ faces. Their predatory, hazy white teeth peppered the dark. The whispers slowly quickened and escalated to a frenzy.

"You're perfȩ̴̙̪͓̈́ct!"

"Thank you ... hee hee hee … Thank you!"

"Wö̵̢͍̂͠nderful!"

"I L̸͇͝͝O̶̐̀͜V̸̩̾E̶̪͌͌͝ ̷̲̟̮̆you."

Oppressively warm, dim, blood-red light seeped in through the windows. It was worse than the dark. Outside, the wind picked up, but it didn’t howl. It moaned.

A flash of crimson lightning twisted from the sky. It stopped beyond the window, just bright enough to sting the skin of the average nyctal. Though mostly silent, its infrasonic boom shook the building.

The eyescraper tilted, as though rearing like a horse. It bayed in distress.

That lightning writhed and wrought into a humanoid form. There was Amy, floating almost motionlessly. Her face was gnarled in an open-mawed grin spread inhumanly wide. Meat-rending teeth glowed neon red. If not for the sanguine aura outlining her dark form, she might have faded into the background, save highlights such as her teeth, hair and slit eyes. Her pupils flickered and danced like mad little flames. Her form fluxed and vibrated, as though scarcely able to contain her deranged glee.

__CHAT

* DARCIE222: 😨

* BAJANETTE11: 😨 😨 😨

* HARD-BACK-M8N: 😐 okay

* INQU!SIT_R: 😳 … sooo that’s Amy, huh?

* AMBIVALENT_TRENT: i ain’t sleepin’ tonight

* ARN74: i feel like a sweet little puppy compared to that 😬

* UNREPENTANT-MEMER: Liam Vickers has to see this. inviting him to the chat

* ATTACK-OTAKU: I KNEW it! She IS a waifu! 😍 SCREENSHOT!SCREENSHOT!SCREEEEEEEEEENSHOT!!

* LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: WHAT ARE YOU EVEN LOOKING AT RIGHT NOW?!?

John Crow brandished his hostage a little higher.

Never did Amy even acknowledge Norman’s existence. Her wide, wild eyes remained upon John Crow.

When she spoke, her lips didn’t move. The sound came from everywhere at once. Every syllable sent visible ripples through the air. Low and booming, her voice was enough to shake bones. Thick with longing, it was nauseatingly sickening.

“̵̲͖̠̍J̷̞͖̓͒O̸̘͚͇͊̓̐H̸̩͐͠͝Ń̷̛̳ ̷̟͓̗̎̋̒C̶̙̽͜R̸͈̟̔̑̀O̶̲̙͂͌Ẃ̴̢̜͋ .̵̡͓̃̏̇..̷͖̇̀ Ī̵̧̬̃͜ ̶̗̍̓͊L̷̫̣̝̒̑͊O̸̟͙̔͝V̶̧̠̈́̽͛Ḛ̴͆̽͘ ̵͙̫͉̃͑Y̵̜̰̲͑̔O̸͙̦̕͝U̶͔͍̾͝.̸̤̙́̔̍”̵͙͘

Every window in the city block shattered.