Fez's spine arched.
Shadows boiled from the hole in his chest—thick, liquid, alive.
Mine, ZEF's voice scraped against his thoughts, cold as a scalpel.
Fez became something dark—a complete, shifting silhouette dragging along the ground
like it had no spine. No streetlights bothered to flicker on. No cars. No voices. Nothing.
His shape wavered in the emptiness.
what happened to me
A rasp, hollow even to his own ears.
AHHHH!
He turned, sprinting, the echo of his own scream chasing him harder than any monster could. His steps made no sound. Just the scrape of something unseen peeling away from the pavement behind him.
But then the sunrise came, slow and almost suspicious in how easily it chased the darkness back. The clouds peeled away, thin as old paper, until there was nothing but pale light stretching over the street.
The dark figure twisted once—like it might refuse to leave—and then collapsed into itself.
Fez stood there again. Just a boy. Barely walking. His clothes hung off him in torn strips, dust clinging to the fabric, hair tangled across his face.
"Home… I should get back home."
The only words that came from Fez's mouth—dry, cracked, like they'd been buried underground with him.
He didn't sound convinced. Didn't even know where home was anymore.
But he started walking anyway, one foot dragging after the other, as if the road might remember the way even if he didn't.
Once he reached the window of the house, he stopped. Just stood there, staring at the glass like it might shatter from the weight of his thoughts.
"I don't want to make problems with Mom… and it'll get worse once she sees me."
His voice barely moved the air.
He set his hands against the siding, feeling the scrape of old paint under his nails, and pulled himself up. No strength left, but somehow he climbed anyway—until he reached the window that led straight to his bed.
He slipped inside without a sound.
he TV was on, humming low with some upbeat pop song
"I can't…wake up to turn it off," Fez mumbled, voice melting into the pillow.
The music kept going, bright and stupid, while he drifted under the weight in his bones.
Hours later, he opened his eyes to the glow of the screen still pulsing across the walls.
A news anchor's voice had replaced the music, flat and urgent.
ZEF is defeated
Those were the first words he heard.
Fez woke up immediately, heart punching the inside of his ribs. He stared at the TV screen like it might start speaking directly to him.
The banner sliding along the bottom glowed in white letters:
"The peace finally came."
Fez didn't blink. Just kept watching the screen, his face hollow in the flickering light.
The broadcast shifted to a shaky view of the government building, every inch of it swarmed by journalists shouting questions no one bothered to answer.
he reporter pressed a hand to her earpiece, voice tightening as more updates spilled in.
"I repeat—here's the summary of what we know for now:"
"ZEF was defeated by the Super Elites…but we lost a member. Grek the Thunder is confirmed dead. There's no trace of Zack, and Milenda was taken to the hospital. She's stable but has lost consciousness."
Cameras panned across the crowd, all those faces so relieved, so certain it was over.
"No.. that isn't right .." Fez didn't feel anything like relief.
He pressed a hand to his temple.
"AAH—my head—"
His memories started flickering in and out, jagged images sliding across his mind: Grek shouting something he couldn't hear, Zack's silhouette disappearing into darkness, Milenda's eyes going wide before everything went black.
The news kept droning on, too calm, too final.
"Oh…thank God…Milenda is fine."
He let out a shaky breath, a faint smile tugging at his mouth like it wasn't sure it belonged there.
"I think…I need to visit her…"
The thought almost felt normal. Almost.
Then his eyes dropped to the torn, dirt-streaked clothes hanging off his frame.
He ran a thumb over a rip in the fabric, grimacing.
"…I need to change these filthy clothes first."
Fez stepped into the restroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Steam from the old water heater curled along the ceiling like it was trying to hide the walls.
From down the hall, his mother's voice floated in, warm but impatient:
"The lunch is getting cold, Fez—come and eat…what a lazy boy…"
He didn't look back.
"I might…keep it for later," he called, voice tight.
He turned toward the sink, bare feet scuffing across the tiles—
What?
His heel pitched onto something slick. He glanced down. A smear of dark residue trailed across the floor.
Heart hammering, he stepped to the mirror.
"WHAT—!"
His shout cracked the silence, sharp enough that his mother called back without missing a beat:
"I bet he's on his superheroes pretending game again…"
The wound on his chest—where ZEF had struck him—was fully black now. A thick, roiling stain that pulsed like it was alive. the idiot boy had just realized
"I think…I might bother myself about it later…"
He tore his gaze from the black wound, pulling his shirt closed like that could make it disappear.
Then he bolted out the door, feet pounding the pavement as he ran straight to the hospital.
"I want to see her—I want to see her NOW!"
People outside turned to stare, wide-eyed at the boy with wild hair and ripped clothes shouting at nothing.
When he burst through the hospital entrance, he didn't pause to catch his breath.
"I want to see Milenda…"
The woman behind the reception desk blinked, tapping her keyboard with a bored expression.
"Ah…are you one of her relatives?"
"TELL ME WHERE IS MILENDA NOW!"
She startled, her voice going small.
"She's…in the special rooms. Room ten."
Fez didn't wait. He sprinted down the corridor, only to slam straight into a wall of bodies—journalists packed shoulder to shoulder, cameras flashing.
The heat in his face He couldn't push through. Couldn't even see past them.
Behind the crowd, Milenda was sitting up in bed, awake—her eyes were tired and concerned, eyes drifting to the door every time it creaked.
She didn't bother responding to the journalists crowded around her bed, their microphones pushing closer with every question.
Then a voice split the noise, ragged and desperate:
"MILENDA!!!"
Her tired eyes shifted with alert for a moment, snapping to the doorway as if she wasn't sure she'd heard it right.
"…Fez??"