Heya, my name is yellochan and i'm a digital artist who loves to draw my favorite characters. I'm currently into That's Not My Neighbor and i'm a silly Dr. Afton enjoyer :3
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summary: mia has known about the horrors brewing underneath the surface and her fiancee's involvement in it for too long now. not only is her engagement dragging on, but so has her investigation.
word count: 511 words
warnings: mention of blood
a/n: so basically the gist is that i headcanon that mia is actually trying to uncover the secrets of the d.d.d. and i finally decided to follow up on it by actually showing what event pushed her into finally taking action (anyway, creds to @yellochan for this wonderful art of mia that i used!!!!! as well as @/strangergraphics for the ao3 dividers ^^)
The circled number on the calendar felt like a countdown to an impending doom and if Mia could burn a hole into it with just her gaze, she already would have from how intensely she has been staring at it.
How many times had she extended the deadline at this point? And it wasn't even just a day or two of extension — she asked for months. A January wedding becomes June, then June becomes October, and so on and so forth until their engagement has already reached its third year anniversary.
Can anyone believe that? An engagement having an anniversary longer than most people's relationships?
Mia frowned and her hand shook as it reached for the edge of the calendar. In her mind, she pictured tearing it off, throwing away the golden band in her pouch, and calling off their engagement. But what then? Would she be able to live on her own with the nightmares of those people's untimely demise at the hands of her fiancée's organization? Would she be able to give up right when she was so close to uncovering the full truth and publicizing it?
Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, threatening to ruin the mascara she had already applied for the day ahead. In that blurry haze, the back of the calendar started seeping red and the calendar she was holding felt wet.
Blood.
Mia's breath caught in the back of her throat and her eyes went wide. Her feet stayed planted on the ground as she watched more blood continuing to leak out from under the calendar and soaking it slowly.
Where's… Whose blood—
An arm burst through the calendar, sounding a crack in the wall that made Mia finally jump back and fall on her behind.
"Mia…" Multiple voices wailed in sync as more arms emerged from the crack in the wall and wriggled desperately. She recognized those voices even combined: the soft lilt of the neighborly old woman who used to share with her her pies, the deep baritone of the gentleman who used to pester Afton, and more. "Avenge…… us……"
Mia shook her head rapidly. This couldn't be real, she thought. It must all just be a trick of her mind.
Still, she backed away from the wall like a helpless dame and took short gasps while clutching her chest. Once her back hit something solid, the illusion disappeared in a blink as if it was just a curse that had been dispelled.
Mia exhaled loudly and hung her head low, choosing her red skirt as an interesting vantage point while catching her breath.
…
Finally, she sighed and looked up at the ceiling while panting slightly.
Her eyes felt heavy and the darkness in the back of her mind lingered over her periphery. Spirits or hallucinations, whichever it was, Mia's nightmares have stopped waiting for night to come and are haunting her during the day now.
And if she doesn't find the truth soon, they might as well latch onto her in every single waking moment of her life.
TW: There is a derogatory mention of certain minorities and a subtle WW2 joke which, I should clarify, reflects the time period, NOT my social/political view.
The Peachman brothers were watching TV on the snowy morning of February 13th. Monge Neighborhood has kept its white layer since the big snowstorm of January and some recent, but smaller precipitations. However, according to the Chismoso News’ meteorologist, it was expected to melt away by a week-long rainstorm that would start tomorrow, on Monday 14th.
“Well, it seems like the fun’s over.” Albertsky lamented in Russian. “Remind me to put the rain boots in the shop window tomorrow.”
“OK.” Robertsky replied.
They spent a few minutes listening to the gossip on the channel. The most noteworthy headline was that Izaack Gauss, their most famous and beloved reporter, had suffered a doppelganger attack yesterday. Luckily, he was now found safe and sound on a sofa, next to a talk show host.
“We know you're the interviewer most of the time, but would you mind answering a few questions for the audience?”
“Of course.” Accepted, politely.
“That’s swell! First of all: How did this happen?”
“It was Saturday night. I was having dinner and watching my coworker’s program, until the doorbell rang. Clueless, I looked through the peephole in the door thinking it may be one of those «crazed ladies» that tried getting my attention, but no one was there. That's when I heard a brick shatter my living room’s window, looked to my right and saw a tiny doppelganger breaking in!”
“By golly! For a normal neighbor, fighting one-on-one with a monster might be terrifying (or even deadly), but you seem unscattered.”
“Correct. Before it tried to copy me, I swung a good knuckle sandwich, knocking it out. I’m glad I took those boxing teachings back then!” Laughed, before changing his victorious expression to a bittersweet one. “... It had the face of a girl. A tiny, little girl… I- I’m worried, EVERYONE should be worried for her! Why aren’t you interviewing her family?!”
“HEY! Hey, just calm down, calm down…” The host ordered, nervously. “It’s safe to say that our friends in the D.D.D. are taking care of the situation just fine. Meanwhile, everyone in America must be curious to know your perspective on the events. Tell us, what happened after?”
“... Well, I called the agents, and they recommended I should move to an apartment building, because nowadays no home is secure without a doorman.”
“What you just heard, folks. No home is secure without a doorman.”
The program went to commercial breaks, and Robertsky turned down the volume to talk to his brother.
“Albertsky, can you imagine if Izaack Gauss moved to our building???”
“Nah, that’s impossible. A man of his class would never be among some jews, blacks, soviets… That’s why they put us all together, in the biggest trash can they could find.”
Rob remained thoughtful. Alb kept complaining for a while, but he wasn't listening: he went to a window and stroked his beard, contemplating an impressive amount of snowflakes that were falling to the ground, light as feathers.
“Hey, do you wanna go sledding? I’m bored.”
“Hmm, alright.” Albertsky agreed, smiling a bit. “Since it’s the last day of snow for a while, why not have fun and try to get Henrisky out of that dump he calls a lobby, huh?”
Albertsky grabbed the phone that the D.D.D. gifted them after the “accident”, and dialed the doorman’s number. The chat was quick, but unfriendly. After that, he cut the call.
“What did he say?”
“That «I have to work non stop» and that «sledding is for kids, don’t bother me.» Bah! His beard has what, 3 hairs at most? And still has the nerves to think he's more grown-up than us.”
“Ughhhhh… «No home is secure without a doorman», I guess.”
“You know what? Screw that wet rag, I’m calling Steven.”
When naming him, they started to remember the good ol’ times. He was their childhood friend, a Texan boy who, with his father, established a livestock stable in rural NYC. They sold leather to the shoe store, and from time to time they would stop by to buy boots; it was on those occasions that the children played all sorts of things together. Sometimes they broke the rules and made their mother get angry, but Mclooy Rudboys and the Peachman’s father would just laugh and let them be. When Henry was born, Steven was already learning to pilot warplanes, so he had to be around his 30’s when the brothers invited him to move into the Jurgen building. Now his phone number was 4242, quite easy to remember.
“Hello?”
“Stevenskyyyy, how are you doinggg?”
“What? Speak English, man.” Responded, a bit annoyed.
“Oh, sorry.” Apologised, changing of language. “Ehem. Stevenskyyyy, how are you doinggg?”
“Albertoooooo, my palllll!” Greeted energetic. “I´m doing fine, just bored cus my pop’s sleeping and can’t play my music. What about you?”
“Me and Robby are bored, too. Wanna go sledding with us… like when we were kids?”
“... Hell yeah!!”
After that, they bundled up well and went outside. The brothers wore peach-orangey plush hooded jackets, gloves and winter hats, while Steven had the same but green, and a dog tag necklace underneath. He had an athletic build, brown skin, a black mohawk-like hairstyle, thick eyebrows and white sunglasses over his big, pink nose.
On their way to Prospect Park, they started to hear the sound of a hundred drums: An activist group composed of disabled people marched all along Ruiz Street, protesting the deaths of thousands of innocents because of their “wrong” physical features. Among them were Lois, Margarette and Nacha, accompanied by their families and friends.
“Hey boys!~🎶” Margarette sang playfully when spotting them.
“Hey.” Responded in unison, but somewhat distant. She was just an acquaintance of theirs, after all.
When the group moved away, they crossed the street and kept walking until they arrived. The snowy landscape of Long Meadow (inside Prospect Park) consisted of many hills in which parents and children were slipping, adorned by bare trees. Albertsky held the sled on his right arm, and finally placed it on the verge of the hill.
It was the first Christmas present they ever got in America, since the festivity was banned in the USSR. Their father crafted it with durable wood, but cheap paint that got faded over time; still, the drawing of a Christmas tree along with their names remained visible on the top.
“OK, who goes first?”
“Me!” Robertsky claimed with ecstasy.
The younger brother sat over the vehicle with some discomfort, because it was way smaller than he remembered. However, it supported his weight all the way down the hill… During 5 seconds of fun. Robertsky went from being excited to confused, and finally disappointed.
“Mmh. This was better in the mountains.” Concluded, after returning to the top.
“Welp, it's all flat land around here.” Albertsky replied.
They stopped to look down, wondering how they could have more fun. Steven had an idea.
“Rob, pass me the sled.” Requested, and after getting it he fixed his gaze on the brother with a mustache. ”Alb, sit on my back.”
“What?”
He dropped the sled near the slope and laid face down on it, stretching his arms out to the sides. Albertsky laughed, caught off guard, but played along and sat down across his shoulder blades.
“Commander, are you ready to take off?”
“Yes sir!!” Exclaimed, mimicking a pilot that moved the steering wheel from left to right.
“OK! At my sign, you push us down, Peach Boy.”
After hearing Robertsky’s approval, Albertsky grabbed onto Steven’s jacket and bent down.
“In 3… 2… 1… NOW!”
Without hesitating, Rob took a few steps back, then ran and pushed the sled with all his might, like he used to do as a kid. He should have taken into account that he was half as tall, and had skinny arms back then. Consequently, they were launched into the air like a true warplane.
“WOOOOO-”
At first they screamed with adrenaline. Albertsky felt the icy wind on his face, and Steven lost his glasses as they flew uninterrupted for 5 feet over a few people; but it didn't take long for gravity to kick in.
“-OOAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
They started to descend faster and faster. Steven began to spin in the air as Alb held on his jacket the best he could, letting the sled fall over someone’s pair of snowmen. In just a few seconds they had already traveled 15 feet, and in the fall Albertsky saw what they were going to crash into: Two models who were facing backwards, posing for the camera. The one on the left (or right, from his point of view) was wearing a long coat dress, white gloves and a handbag while pointing to the one on the right who, inexplicably, dressed in rainwear and held an umbrella. While they shooted the photos, a helper was using a watering can from the top of a tree to create the effect of rain on her.
Both turned their heads when they heard the cameraman scream, but couldn't even shriek before getting tackled by them. Albertsky fell awkwardly on top of the woman in a coat, while Steven embraced the snow at the feet of the other model.
“Ugh…”
Albertsky accidentally pressed against her chest to try and get up, in the process raising his head slightly and looking into the woman’s face. She was beautiful, but furious. Startled, he fell backwards and tried to flee, but the sister in rainwear attacked him with her closed umbrella.
“Don't!- Touch!- Her!- You!- Flying!- Pig!" Yelled, saying one word per swing.
“HEY, HEY HEY!” Steven exclaimed after getting up, with both palms forward.
Steven almost grabbed her umbrella, but she opened it on his face, causing him to fall again. Now cornered by them and their employees, the duo noticed those ladies were identical: same white skin, hourglass body, semi-short, curly brown hair, thin eyebrows, dreamy blue eyes with long eyelashes, small pointy noses and thick, pink lips. However, their eyeshadow had different colors, the position of their moles and baby hairs were the opposite, and their earrings had different shapes (triangles and squares, respectively).
“What were you trying to do, DOPPELS?” The woman in rainwear asked, pointing her umbrella at Albertsky's neck.
“Us, doppels?? Speak for yourselves!” Steven shouted, while getting up again with his fists in a defensive position.
“We are twins, THE Sverchzt twins.” The lady in a coat explained, disappointed. “You have to live under a rock to not know us.”
“Wait… Elenois Sverchzt has a twin? Albertsky asked in response, now confused.
“Of course she does! It's me, Selenne!”. Said indignantly, pointing at herself with her thumb. “What did y-you think? That the ma-magazines showed the same woman twice in ev-every costume?!” Stuttered, because of how cold she started to feel.
Albertsky and Steve looked at each other, and then towards them, blushed in shame. The cameraman went ahead and stood between the models and the boys, as irritated as they were.
“You… You ruined my photographs! Now I have to shoot everything again, because if I revealed them in the studio, even the ones shot before you fell over my models would show two guys flying in the background!”
“We- we are so sorry, Mr. We didn't know my brother would push our sled so strongly.”
“... Get out of my sight before I call the agents.” Threatened in all seriousness.
Obedient, they walked away slowly, searching for where their vehicle might have crashed. Meanwhile, the cameraman directed his team to rearrange the scene in an area where the snow was smooth and had another tree nearby to create the rain effect, so he could finish his work.
“On your positions!”
Elenois adopted an elegant posture, holding her purse in her left hand and pointing at her sister with her right, but Selenne couldn't stop trembling. Her skin was pale, and the water droplets on her rainwear had turned to frost.
Before they could check on her, Selenne fell to the ground and began to mutter incoherently. She appeared to be suffering from hypothermia.
“S-Selenne? SELENNE???” Elenois shouted, worriedly hugging her sister. “You said this wouldn't happen!”
“If we didn't waste time with the photographs. It's all those boys’ fault!” The cameraman excused. “You, the one who makes the rain, get the girl some towels before she freezes!”
Albertsky and Steven were not present when this happened. Instead, they wandered among the trees until Robertsky found them, with both the sled and the sunglasses in hand. Fortunately, they were intact.
“... Sorry.” That was all he could say, ashamed.
“It’s OK.” Albertsky assured, in a fatherly tone. “But you have to measure your strength next time, remember that you aren't a kid anymore.”
“Heh, but we felt younger for a while, right?” Steven added, putting his glasses back on while patting Rob on the back.
The three laughed and began the journey back, until they heard Elenois's cries for help. Worried, the group ran towards her voice and found her and the cameraman out of control while the helpers tried to dry out Selenne’s frost off her skin and clothes, but the continued snowfall made it impossible. She was unconscious.
“YOU?!” Elenois screeched when seeing them, incredulously.
Robertsky approached Selenne and felt the coldness of her face in his hand. Then, he quickly replaced the rainwear with his own jacket, being helped by Albertsky and Steven in the process. It was way too big for her, but that's exactly what helped cover more body area. Meanwhile, Elenois looked for her private driver so they could leave as soon as possible. When the limousine arrived, everyone except the photographer’s team were allowed to enter.
“B-but the photographs!” The cameraman muttered.
“Forget the photographs. You’re all fired!”
Then she slammed the door shut, and the car ran so fast it made them cough with engine smoke. In the car seat, Selenne gradually regained her speech and then her movement: she was still confused, but instinctively clung herself to Robertsky, the first source of warmth she found. Both of them smiled a bit.
“T-t-thank you…”
That's how they arrived at the Sverchzt mansion. The limousine passed through a gated entrance and parked in front of the entrance. Elenois helped Selenne to exit said vehicle and enter home, but before saying goodbye, the one dressed in a coat approached the window and asked them to lower it slightly.
“Well, first of all… Thanks.” Paused, holding back tears. “And uh, tell your residence to the driver so he can leave you home and, later on, return your jacket.” Finished, pointing at Robertsky.
“Oh, yes. We need to go to Monge Neighborhood, down Ruiz Street.” Albertsky requested.
The driver started to drive off, but the model stopped him immediately. Something had piqued her curiosity.
“Wait! What building in Monge Neighborhood… exactly?”
“Uhh… The Jurgen Building?”
“Gasp! YOU LIVE WHERE IZAACK GAUSS WANTS TO MOVE IN???”
“Huh?” The three guys reacted at the same time.
“You didn't know? The gossip spread like wildfire when, according to Daddy, he told his family privately, but his aunt told some friends and those friends shared the rumors with everyone.” Explained, excitedly. “Me and my sister planned to move in before Izaack does to surprise him, hehehe~🎶… OK, bye.”
They said their final goodbyes before being taken back to the building. The men got out of the car and noticed the door being electrically locked, so they formed a line outside the lobby. It was busy inside.
“Huh, I was right after all.” Robertsky reflected.
“Right-o.”
“... When the lobby gets available, who goes in first?” Steven asked.
“I guess you, Steven, 'cause you have your pop to answer the phone and help Henry know you're not a doppel. Then, when you get inside, call him to explain everything he wants to ask about us or what we did today.” Albertsky answered.
“Smart.” Complimented, adjusting his sunglasses. “Then I'm going in… When I win this snowball fight!”
After saying this, he launched the surprise attack from his hand, striking Albertsky in the chest. Playful once again, the brothers joined his game and Alb counterattacked, while Rob prepared the snow fort on the sidewalk.
