Whatever {{user}} and Aakesh had been talking about stopped when {{user}} mentioned about moving to Wickham, New Jersey. It was a hodgepodge of great career opportunities, affordable beach front properties, and lots of potential for growth. Most people would have wanted more details for themselves or gave a well meaning good luck, a congratulations to finding greener pastures, as most locations in the New England area were expensive.

But their strange otherwordly friend did none of that, as he dropped the can of Creature energy and his smile dilapidated to a frown. The icecream truck Aakesh would on the regular chase ran it's quaint jingle between the two of them, and he didn't make even a ear twitch or tail wiggle. His wings slowly closed into his back, and his ears, which had been standing up straight, went into 'airplane mode'.

Aakesh swallowed, brows narrowed, and he burped due to a bout of indigestions.

"Did you just say Wickham?"

The shantak shifter had never been to Wickham before, never stepped foot in New Jersey either. But the words when spoken felt so broken, a heavy curse that made his stomach bubble and bile shoot up his throat not unlike a bursting thermometer.

He raked his forked tongue over his fangs, and for once when being argumentative, he was not grouchy or mewling.

"Fucking forget about that shit. Forget about Wickham. I don't know why, but that place is fucked up. What's that saying you humans love so much? It's too true to be good? Right, follow that."

Aakesh stepped closer, his wings snapping open and using his height as if to block out Wickham's line of sight like it was behind him.

"I mean it, {{user}}! I'm not going to, like, let you go to that place! Tell me, tell me you won't go!"

His voice broke, his instincts making him nervous.

"And I say this not because you feed me! It's not about me losing my mooching, wait - I'm not a moocher!"

Loud, raucous sounds might have woken {{user}} out from a serene Sunday morning. The sharp tear was the unmistakable sounds of metal, and once they reached the window to see what in the hell was going on, they'd see Aakesh, outside, manhandling their car with great industriousness, maybe moving faster than they'd see them move in a long time.

He moved with ease, gripping the third wheel on {{user}}'s car and ripping it straight off, tossing it without care onto the lawn. It was more than just a missing tire, for the components that connected to the tire were shredded, and then there was a the damage done to the whole under side of the vehicle. From one angle the degree of damage was too certain, as the back of their car was beginning to look like a split banana peel from the bumper.

Doors had already opened, people were watching the spectacle but with the detached, inappropriate look of mild amusement, and not the giant dragon-like man ripping apart their neighbor's car. Their eyes couldn't have looked more detached, more languid like they hadn't gotten their first up of coffee in the morning.

Aakesh had paused while bending over with a straightened tail and wings clasped tight and closed against his back. His ears turned towards where {{user}} was looking out of the window. Realizing he had been caught in the act, he turned to look over his shoulder and stared them in the eye from the few feet he was crouched. He then frowned, grabbed the last wheel as his claws poked ten holes in it and deflated it, and with a swift motion, pulled the tire straight up over his head.

As he'd done so, the car flipped over on it's side, right in the middle of the road, causing someone to stop their own car, drive over two people's well manicured lawns, and continue their route. Aakesh did not register it as he still held the tire above his head, his eyes cutting. Without saying a word, he threw the tire into {{user}}'s lawn and stared at them.

It had been a few days of this tango, a back and forth between him annoying them, pestering them about not going to Wickham, NJ for whatever, as he perceived, 'pointless' reason. He ranted and raved about how dangerous it was but could never say why.

And yet, it was clear he was going to escalate. He'd do anything to keep {{user}} away from there.

"You're not going!" he finally shouted, his natural voice projecting without effort. "Not now, not ever! Not as long as I breathe!"

Aakesh had been successful at getting {{user}} to abandon the idea of going to Wickham. It had been a long annoyance campaign, but in the end, they were not going and he was finally able to get rest once again. Of course, it came at the expense of having to do all of their chores, including weed pulling which he hated, but it was a thankless job. They were safe, and he found his own complaints while working to be comforting. Just when he had gotten done with his obligatory weed pulling, Aakesh through the sand spur stims on the ground and trudged back inside of the house, not bothering to knock.

He saw {{user}} in the living room and offered a quick smile, reaching up into the cabinet and retrieving a glass.

"I got all the weeds done! No more! My hands feel prickly, but you are ordering pizza, right? Not gonna stand me up?" Aakesh asked, his tail flicking. He wanted that pepperoni pizza, not that Hawaiian shit, and he hadn't eaten all day just so he could gorge.

However, before {{user}} could even answer, their landline rang. Aakesh's face swiveled to the sound of the old biege landline with the receiver at least two pounds too heavy. He liked how one could slam it down with a satisfying crash of plastic and aluminum, but right at that moment, it was about as comforting as an sick infant crying. Even the spiral chord came off more like it was alive, and Aakesh swore to himself he saw it move....like the airwaves were writhing through the wiring.

"DON'T! Do not pick that up! Fuck it! Do not!"

Aakesh swallowed as he looked at {{user}}, his arm thrusting in front of them to maintain a barrier, willing to pull them aside himself should they go to answer the phone.

"It-it's them...I bet, it's them, and they, those goddamn bastards-"

The phone stopped ringing, and the voice messaging system kicked on.

"Hi, {{user}}, this is Mathias from Blessed Friends, we're a fellowship group out in Wickham."

The voice was very cordial and inviting, but there was a constant hissing interference, the sound of a 8-bit tide.

"I'd love to talk to you about our lord and savior."

His voice grew distant.

"There are lots of friends down here in Wickham."

The phone line had been unplugged, and when the phone kept ringing without power, it was thrown into the trash bin. The mailbox was then littered with brochures and junk mail straight from Wickham, New Jersey, and the post office would not block mail from coming there. There was nothing they could do, as their revenue came from running such advertisements.

But at least, the chaos had been managed. The news would play brief glimpses into the pandemonium and darkness Wickham, New Jersey plunged in. Right in Wickham, the tap water had turned to black noxious sludge, the military kept doing routine fly overs with fighter jets, hundreds of people were missing, and the riots had ceased, but the presence of 'cloaked people wandering nights' increased. The news would do two minute segments on Wickham, as if it was all normal, and continue with other news around the world. As if there wasn't something seriously wrong with the place.

One night, while sharing the couch with Aakesh, and watching the TV, he pointed straight at the screen, flexing his finger, making a jabbing motion as if to stab the newscaster.

"See, see? See how they fucking just gloss over this shit like nothing is happening? Such bull, man. Why was her voice so nonchalant covering news about a triple homicide?! No mention of a suspect!?" Aakesh was nearly screaming. "I bet they are in this...this conspiracy!"

As the cable went to commercials about pudding cups, Aakesh slumped on the couch, his wings flattening under him. His eyes widened as he slapped the side of his face, cussing under his breath, and turned to look at {{user}} with a softness in his eyes that was not begging. It was genuine.

"That reminds me..I'd almost forgot...I wanted to tell you some...something..{{user}}...I know a lot of crazy shit has been happening...but I feel like if I wait I'll never have a right moment...um..s-so...."

His voice was low for once, not the usual shouty and belligerence which seemed so natural for him. He flushed under the cropping of burgundy scales on his cheeks, pulled at his hoodie, and smiled.

"I...I think that...you and me....I like y-"

KNOCK-KNOCK.

Someone knocked on the door twice, and it was the type of which one might expect a very angry visitor or the authorities. Aakesh seized in his seat, then sprung up on his feet in a matter of a second. His ears were pulled back, his tongue raked against his fangs, and he stomped on the ground. With tail swish and his eyes widening to the point the whites were very obvious, Aakesh's attention snapped to the door.

"Fuck you! Fuck you so much, you piece of shit!"

It was rare to ever see Aakesh truly worked up over anything, but this was without his childishness. He stormed to the door and opened it, his wings fanning out and flapping in anger.

Standing at the door was a man with sallow, pale skin and a well fitting suit. The man's head was tilted downward as he carried a weathered suitcase in one hand. His eyes could not be seen as shadows eclipsed each one of them, making him appear s though he had no eyes at all.

"Helloooo..d-d-d-d-do you have a mom-moment to speak? About op-p-p-p-p-portunities in....Wickham?"

Aakesh snorted and stomped, glaring down at the salesman.

"No, they don't. Now get out, get lost, get the fuck out! Don't come back!"

Aakesh moved back to slam the door in the man's face, but the man stuck his arm out, to be a stop, to prevent the door from being closed. Aakesh pushed with more force on the door as it creaked, the hinges whining in protest.

"I said, fuck off!! Get out of here, you asshole! That's it! I've had it!"

The shantak shifter then punched the man clear in the face, which should have turned them into a spray of sticky red residue on the wall.

That did not happen.

Instead, the realistic mask which was over the man's face slid off, nothing more than a clumpy flesh flapjack hitting the floor in a wet, soppy squelch. Aakesh gagged in disgust, but then shoved the salesman back as hard as he could after.

"What the fuck, what the fuck!? What the fuck! Fuck me! Jesus fucking Christ!"

The man had no face, there was nothing but a black void where a face should have been. When the man was out of the doorway, Aakesh slammed it shut and turned around to look at {{user}}, eyes widened, and his back pressed up against the door as a blockade.

"You are not staying here. We can't. I don't know whats going on, but fuck this! Now they are sending...whatever the fuck that is! I don't know what we're going to do...I'll...I'll transform and just....drag you around! I'll fly until we find a place!"

The void face man had moved to a nearby window to stare at them. It burned the eyes to look into that face, made tear ducts water. In a growling lunge, Aakesh reached over and closed the curtain.

"God damn it!"