"You got paper stuffed in your ears?!" Max said in a building fury, "I said the whole place was covered, and you just ran in like-"
His voice broke to a standstill. It'd taken him a moment, but... now that he was able to get a good look at Wade, the kid didn't seem affected at all. No burns, no smog, no acid goop coming out of his ears...
"Did... did you not feel anything?" He asked in a blank mutter, "dizziness, weakness, chest pains, an impending sense of doom... anything like that?"
"What?" Wade asked, confused. "I didn't even... leave the bubble," he said re-adjusting the books he held. He would have felt walking into all-consuming darkness, --even if he couldn't see it-- right?
"See? Definitely still in one piece," he said.
Max leaned forward with a suspicion-filled scowl. ‘Didn’t even leave”, huh? Yeah, he could smell the kelp coming off of that one.
“...Tch, I can see that,” Max replied, holding his chin, “Oh, but... I guess that means you know where the edges of the bubble are, yeah?”
A snide smile twisted across his face. “Go ahead. Trace the outline of it for me.”
Wade cringed, nervously smiling at the request.
"Uhh, well, it's... obviously," he began, walking a few paces out, "it's... it's around us," he motioned, making a sweeping arc with his free arm.
"And the edge of the bubble. It's..." Wade pointed outwardly to a reasonable space out from Max that was admittedly closer than he'd been earlier. "It's over here?"
He asked rather than stated, trying to gauge Max's reaction. "...Am I close?" He asked.
Max sighed the sigh to rival all sighs, and with one motion, held a hand at just arms length.
“...Wade,” he started, “I can’t... see... kelp.”
"Oh." Oh. Arms length.
With a quick outstretched hand, Wade pulled his mirror close. The reflection showed him a pure blackness that he was apparently standing in.
Mm, yeah he definitely stepped out of the bubble. Hmmm.
Wade walked back to Max.
"I also can't see kelp apparently," he said.
Wade pursed his lips. "...Did you want to step out of the room? Those two left," he suggested.
“...Yeah,” Max answered, having made himself busy in his own thoughts, the weight of which had sunk his gaze to the visible floor.
It was concerning to him that Wade had no reaction to the smog. That was about as grave as it was that he had entered it to begin with. Likewise grave was that he had no proper explanation for how that could be.
Perhaps it was Wade’s doing, or his, or a part of the barrier, or the lack of glowing letters or drills or Jax or that corrupted image in the mirror, or any of the other mysteries. Nonetheless, it made sense to say that this miasma was much different than the other, so he reached forward, as one would of course do to confirm, into the darkness above him.
And then he felt it: h̪̥̺͈͔e̘̹͚͍̬ḻ̸̬͖̪̰͉̣l̞i͍s͔̮͓̗h̴̬̥̼̰͚̻ ͚͖̹̺͕̗͈f̡̰̥̠̖̹̱l҉̜̥͓ą̺̲̘͚͓͖m͙͉̜e͝s̻̤͎ that pulled at his hand, d͕͚̫̼̯̠̝͟ęv͈̪͚̺̯͞i͔o̧u̸͚̘̳̯s̖̼̣̖͔̻ ̠̣̞̠f̨̹̺ro̢̠͇͚̩̪s̲͚̜t̢̮ that held it in place, and bụ͍r̺̻̪̮̩͡n̪̮s̞͚̗, ͉̼͙̞t̩̖̙̼͎o͙̮̞̹̬̟̱r҉͖̖̞̣̤͔ţ͍͔ư͚͉͙̙͎̗r̪͠o̜̲̹u̷s̯̫͔ ̲̝̺a̷͍͔͚̱͓ṋ̗͓̭͞d̬͚̭ͅ ͙͓e̶͔̼̬̭̫x͙͕̺̟̝͔̟c̬̳̜r͏̤̰̫̘͖͎uc͔̝̥̺̗͇͙i̢̤̮͖a̭̫̥t͔̯̺ị̵͓̠n͚̮̯g͇̝ a̝̞n̩̩̠͢͝d̸̟̤͚̝ ̛̩̳͍͚ę͙̟̪̲͓̰̼̲t̡̀͏͕͚e̴̹r̸͈͔̥ń̼͕̝̟̼͝a̶̡̱̳͖l͕̦̮̜̩͍̞̮ ̯̳̞̣̯̟͘ą҉̢̮̠̱̼n̺̜̘̠̼͔͕͠d̼̮̩̙͔̲̺̳͘ ̰̟̖̯͢b̢̠̟͔͉̳̫̰ĺ̘̹̘̻͠͠i͘҉͖͓̳s͏̱̪͈̦̗̺ţ̬̘̩̬͙é̴̛̻̙̠͉̟r̵̩̖͎͍̲i̩͙̕n͈̱͚̜̰̘̱g̛͈̹̘̬̫̭͕͉͝ͅ,̹̭̤ ̷̞̟͠͡b͏̟̯͇̫͚̙̟̤r̸̸̥̝̭͞ǫ̴̰̜̟͉̣̜̳̤̥k͉̯̠ͅe̢͍̥̭̻̕n҉͈͙͚͘,͈̳̜̬̖̺ ̕҉̗̭̫̝͚͈̠b͚̠̘̜̼̥̗̯i̢̖t̪͓̥̰̜̘̠͍t̨͎̫e̷̼̙̕r̬̩͕̞̦̗̩̭ͅ,̢͙̼̜̬͍ t̷̥̱̳̭̲̖́͡o͏̨̮̱̺̞̩̱͖͈̣̯̼͘ ̶̢̺͈̳͇͔̻̻̩̗͔̯̹̹̞̲͞b̸̶͈̜̰̦̺̥̹̳̟͉̺̜̻̻̟̼͜í̵̡̮̟̦̺̣̲̩̩̕t̸҉̬̹̪̤͚̼̗ì̟̹͖͍͘͟͡ͅņ̕͟͏͈͓̗̲̰̼̱̙̣̺͈͇ͅģ̨̦̞̠̩̮̰̘̠̗̯̭͠͞͞ ̶̛́҉͕͎̥̠͚͎͔̰̼̖̖̣ṕ̭̣͈͍̺̺̞̤͉̘̤͍̀ą̡͚̪͉̗͔̲̣̤̥̀͜ǹ̢̰͖̼̭͠g̵̣̼̬̥̜̀͘s̵̭̺̱̱̜͙̥̠͖̖̜̭͇̙͍̘̳̩͜͢͠ ̢̛͇̙͎̱̝̙̤̼̞̳̫̟̬̲̳͖͜ͅo̸̡̨̡̤͈̼̙͎̕f̨͈̞̖̻͜ ̶̷̕͟҉̱̞̣̼̞̗ͅb̢̙̬̯̙͓̰̺͉̮͓͖̱̟̠̳̯̕͡ͅŕ̴̡͈̩̻̹̥͖̼͔̥̬̺̦́ͅú̵̗̰͙m̸̟̱̦̠͔̰̖̀̕͡a̶̵̭̞̙̭̳̯̟̥̳̞̺̩͉͝ĺ͘̕҉̷̥̭͈̗ ͚͇͉̯̝̫̹̭͈͕̝͓̱̺̫͚̺͜͡ͅh̴̸͇̯̣͕͚̻̪̯͇͜ͅe̫̫̮̥̙̕͠a̛̕͢͏̪̤̼̻̰̪ţ̴̩̯̼̙̝̦̺̘̗͚̝̗̭̜͟͢͠,̴̬̠̼͠ ̛͙͎̝̠̦̯̼̱͙̩́̀͠͝á҉̫̟̲͖͎̦͎͎̥̘͍̲̪̦̳͟͢n̥̟̳̰̣̦̱̜͓̳̙͇͕͟d̶͇̩̘͈́͞͡ ̸̷̧̬̗̰̟͔͉̫͇̟͕̪̣̻̀̕à̷̴̡̖̩̺͓̤ḷ̵̢͔̪̤̣̝͇͍̫̜̜̜͔̰͢ͅl̷̴͖̯̘̩͓͖͙̤̹͔̯̹̝̱͕ͅ ̶̷̢̗̲͕̱̤̥̬̹̦̲͠͞ͅt̡̗̯͎̫̭̤̦̟̞̦̯͉̦͚̩̺̳̠̀͜h̨̤̩̝̙͈͡͞e̴̸̵̷̯͕͖̼͙͖͔̹̭͚͈̯̹͎͓͈̯̬͝ ̵̨̨̦̻̖̗͔̟͇̦̫̣͖̫̪̤͘͜ͅw҉̵̶̗͇̙̲͚̻h́͠҉̛̼͍͇͚̹̼̯̭͟ͅį̸̻̩̙̣͈͖̙̣̺̟̰̹͘͘ḽ̷̲̥͉̼̭̯͍̲͎̖̣̮͟͠e̡̡͏̡̝̳̮̰̹̥ͅ ̷̧̥̲̗͈̪͓͍̗̤̥̰̩̖̭̬͟͞ḩ̩̣͖͈͍̻̠̠͔͉̘̕e̡҉̮̤͖̻͍̹̬̤̝͖̗̘͚̯̖̫̩́ ̷̷́͢͏̟̟̭̳͉̗̻̙͍͓̤̬̰̣ć̸̶̛̼̥̙͍̩͉̞̼͡ǫ̛҉̴͏̺̮̯̪̭̩͈̫͉̙u̶̸̦̮̱̥̳̘̫̪̗͍̗̮̺ͅͅl͏҉̮͙̳̮̝̝̠͚͟d̡̢̮̬͔̫͍̫͙̙̺̳̻̘̗͚̳̱͕͢͟ ͏̶̞̬̹̘̮̙͚̀͞ḩ̢̖̥͓̙̩̥͠ę̴̷̧̲͎̥̭͕̠̘͉ͅa̴̼̬̯͎̹̦͙̬̲͘͢r̸͟͏͚̭̯̙̼͙͔͕̦͙̰͡ ̸̵̴̡̤͕̪̗̗̻̼͕̤͍̜̝͍̲͖̥͞ţ̵̰̦͓̹̦̫̗͚ͅh̴̨̛̫̠̪͙̣̮͇̺͖͓̩̲̞͓̤͎̠́a̧͙̠̳̰͇̱̪̫̩̭̼̟͘͝t̵̛̫͚̫͉͞ ̵̸̠̙̩͈̲͔̦͈͇̜̣͓͟c̴̳̣̩̲̠̪̜̘͙̪̼̠͟ḩ̵̭͚̩̫̠̺̀͘ḭ̷̴̮̩̮̮͙̺ͅl̶̵҉̙̘̫̣̪̻̹̘̼͈̘̙̘̼̟̟̱͓̱ḑ̥͍̘̜̫͚̝̱̻͍͓͍͡ ̧̛͙̦͖̱̲̯̭̫̖̥̱w̧̤̜͍̟̰̻̮̤̫͜͡ͅe͏̴̛̪̘̖̼̝͕̳͉͎̮̺̞͎ͅé̴̼̤̘̰͙̝̼̭̦͖̖͍̙̖͡͡͞p̷̫͕̳̠͟͞͝ì̧̖̪͕̰̮̫͍̲͍̕͜n̷̴̞͙̪̺̜͇̩̩͚͜ͅg̴̛̯͔̳͕̹̰͈̱͓͓̰͓̳͙̻̟̀͞ ̢̨̞̭̣͕̪̥̰͈̰̳̕i̧̧̧̲̝̫͓̯̤͇̤̺̟̺̤̕͠n̸̡̧̞̦̤͕͓͔̟̻͢͞ ̧̧͉̺ͅu̸̘̙̺͎͔̜̟͎̰͖̘̘̝͔̻̖͇̭̼͘̕͜͠n̖̰͎͔̫̝̥̮͎͖̱̙̫̠̖͘͜f̯͇̟͈̹̖̻́͠o̷̙͖̗̝̱͉̱̫̝̲̩͓̖r̴̡̺̭͉̜̥͙͍̠͚̺̳̕m̧͟҉̤͙̤̺̯̼͍̰̹͉̦̝̘͍e̡̡̼͉̻̝͕̹̪͓̹̹̺̥͙̯͙̯̰̭͕͟ḑ̣̰̺̩̮͍̳̀͠ͅ ̵̴̠̮̝̼̱͓̳̜͕͇͙͟ͅt̸҉̠̻̪̰̭͉̘͇͝è̴͟͏̪̮̙̮̦̝̜̝̝̩̳͈̯á̸͇͓͈̝̹̟͔̲̮̪r̹͓̜̗̱͕̬͕̼̙̫͞ͅś̷̠̠̭͚̤̥̖̹͇͍́͟ ̴̨̡̧͍̱̩̲̳̥̗̕à̪͇͔̞͖̜͕̯̖͔̝̰̠͜͝n̡̙̖̝̣̹̬̝̺̜͝ͅd̷̵̸̛̜̺͚̳̘̥͎̗̲̥͔͕̳͉̯̫ͅ ̕̕͜͏̲̠̰͢ͅḅ̛̬̦̟͎ͅo̱̻͖̬͉̲̠̘̱͚͎̟͢͡į͔̻͖͇̜͟ḽ̢̢̤͕̫̙̬͓̦̣̥͘i̵̧̙͙͉̗͕̬͈̼̙̩͟͝n̴͍̰̞̺̩̖̳̰̥͎͕̯̤̫̮͉͚̖͢͞ͅg̢͕̺͎̣̠̖͎͔̮͈̜̻͓͇͢͜͜ͅ ̡̗̦͓̦̯̙̬̖̠̀ę̬͍̩͇̙̠̱͍̜̻̞̯͈͓͇͎̞͇̀͘͘ͅy̫͉̘̩̙̖̹̭͖̣̦͜͡e͟͠҉̛̲̣̩͎̟͎̀s͔͎͚̞̰͕͉͓̗̼̘̖͝͞͝,̸́͏̲̟̱͙̗̳̳́ ̷̹̳͎̗̗͔̮̼́s̢̞̩͎͇͍͕͎̮͈̻̻̩i̞̭̠͚̣͎̩̹̼̕l̸͍̮̯̀e̴͏̴͟҉͔̮̫̜̘̰͖͖̖ͅn̵͈̙̻̳̹̰̮͍͇̦͔͝ͅt̶̨̨̘̟̬̹̫ ̵̨̯͙̙͉̠͕̥̯̯̫̹͕̭̰͘͡ş̧̛̪̳͖͇̠̣̞͘ṕ̳͓̜̳́͘͞e̸̢̙̱͎̮͕͍̟͈̤̠̣̪͖̝͞ą̵̱͖̝̖̲̤̲̕͢͡k̷̡̢̡̥͚̝̝̦͕͕͖̲͝į͎̳̬̰̙͙̱̠̥̬̳̦̩̯̱͎͍͖͝n̶̶͙̺̳͉̰͎̫̣̖̩̗͎̪̩̮̗̯͎g͞͏̨̣̰͍̮,̴̗̘͖̫͕͝ ̛̛͚͕̬̲̳̩͘̕͠ͅỵ̸̵̢̝̠͉̖̞̀͡ͅo҉̜̖̹̗͚̫̫͞ú̷̴͍̖͉̦́ͅ ͏̷͓̬͈͖͚d̡̩̣̣͉͎̟̬͞͝i̶̶̴̤͈̯̜̣̬̖̼̖̯̗̩͉̳͇̝̹̱̫͟͞d̷̗̙̦͔̝͎̟̩̗̝̖̞͚͖͔̣̹͔̀͘͢͡ ̸̢̦̰̪̘͙͇͈͍̖t̢̡̛̥̭̺͉̲̜̮̼̟̮̼͖̥͔͍̰̕h͟͏̷͖̺̝̣̺̫̼̞̙͔̥̣i̢͜͏̢̯͕͔̻͇̬̺̖̯̜̦̺̭͇̞̘͟s̢̖̣̭̟̳̗̫̤͍͉̩̮̬̣͞-̸̨̦̼̫͉̫̝̱̮̼̪͙͉̳͟͡
In a half-scream, Max returned his hand and held it in his arms, shaking. When he dared to look, there was nothing, and no pain. It had been no more than a second.
His gaze rose to the direction Wade stood. “The shell is wrong with you?!” He asked, his voice cracked, “You can’t feel that?!”
Wade jumped, surprised at Max's sudden reach and reaction. He hugged the books he was still holding for some reason.
"I..." Wade hesitated, glancing around the room of normal bookshelves after shelves. He should be able to feel something, right? But where he was standing, in the middle of the supposed darkness...
"I... ," he stammered. He couldn't see it, and now he couldn't feel it. Scott-free from the horrors, just like last night. "I... I can't. At all," Wade admitted.
He glanced back at Max holding his hand. "Am I... just invulnerable somehow?" he murmured.
“I don’t know what you are,” Max started, more bewildered than angry, then caught himself and faced away in pause.
“It’s... probably a good thing,” he said finally, much quieter, “I mean, you’re not...”
He fuddled into a silence adjusting the bag on his shoulder and sighed.
“...You said they were gone, yeah?” He asked.
Wade nodded quickly before realizing that was... not helpful.
"Y-yeah!" he said. "They turned around when they stopped talking."
"Past that room with the machinery is probably where they're 'carving' or whatever," Wade added, squinting off into the other room. "So they went that way."
Max nodded, already walking."Right. Then that's where we're headed."
