Chapter Text
The Thermodynamic Arrow of Time
The only physical evidence for the existence of time is entropy; that is, chaos.
***
This is not where it all begins.
Nor, indeed, is it where it all ends. The closest approximation of what this is would be to say that it is both the beginning of where it ends, and the end of where it begins. And this includes leaving aside the unreality of time, because that isn't a factor yet; although – given the unreality of time – it is a factor, because if time isn't real, then nor is the concept of 'yet'.
Right now… whatever 'now' means… there is only this: only a room, in a house, in a town. The room is dark, save for the low lights on each side of the bed, setting the desired mood without going so far as to plunge the space into inoperable blackness. In the centre of the bed, a scientist named Carlos lies on his back, his lover on top of him, inside him; slowly but expertly bringing them both towards physical and emotional ecstasy.
The other man leans in, kissing along Carlos' jaw at the same time as taking hold of both of his hands, pressing them down into the pillows either side of his head. The mere act alone sends a thrill of anticipation running through Carlos, making him arch back a little, baring his throat to a fresh onslaught of kisses that only make the need and the ever-increasing bliss feel all the more wonderful, sparking off every last nerve-ending until his mind feels like it's going to overload.
"Are you close?" his lover says, right into his ear, and oh but the man's voice just drags Carlos ever-onwards towards the edge.
"Yes," Carlos manages. "Yes. Please. Please don't stop."
"How could I ever deny you?" the other man murmurs, his voice like liquid sex; sunrise and starlight and fire. "Just… do one thing for me."
"Anything."
"Say my name when you come. Scream it to the rafters. There's nothing better in all the world…"
Carlos smiles hazily up at his lover, nodding rather more than he needs to, so close now that he can hardly think, can hardly see, and it's as though the whole fabric of the universe is unravelling; tumbling to the floor in the room around them, falling away until there's nothing left but this: this moment, this contact, this connection that is more than anything. More than everything.
And then it breaks. It shatters, in a moment of perfect, perfect bliss that blazes out into completion, into incoherent delight, glorious and wonderful. And amidst it all, even though organised thought is beyond him, Carlos manages to scream his lover's name in gratitude and happiness, just as he promised; a name that has – somehow – become his whole world in just a few short months.
"Kevin!"
***
It's early the next morning.
Carlos is already up, wrapped in a dressing gown and standing at the window in Kevin's bedroom, peering out through the gap in the curtains.
"…You can open them, you know," comes a voice from the direction of the bed. "That way we can both watch the sunrise."
Carlos glances back for a second. "I didn't want to wake you."
But he accepts the offer, pulling the curtains apart enough that he can look out properly; look out at the strangest town he's ever seen in all his life.
Desert Bluffs.
Behind him, he hears Kevin rising to his feet, pulling on his own dressing gown before pacing over. His lover steps in behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist and laying a soft kiss on the curve of his neck.
"Well, good morning," Kevin whispers.
"Hey," Carlos breathes, pressing back against him. Just… enjoying the contact, whilst he can.
He doesn't think he's ever going to get used to this view, whether he's looking at it from here or from the little window in his own rented apartment. Desert Bluffs is… an acquired taste, and it's one that Carlos is not sure he could have acquired without help. If truth be told… it freaks him out a lot, even after several months of living here, and he's not at all confident he could have learned to cope with all the blood and viscera and other things that just completely defy repetition were it not for Kevin; Kevin, with his way of breezing through it all like it's completely normal, of pushing past the sheer insanity and threat of the place to find the good things underneath. The warmth. The community spirit.
The… love.
They've been dating for almost as long as he's lived here – having met when Kevin interviewed Carlos for a piece on his radio show after Carlos first moved to Desert Bluffs in order to study it – and… Carlos wonders where it's all going. Is it love? The other man makes him feel more alive, more happy than he has in years, and somehow manages to help Carlos see beyond the threatening insanity of the town.
He'd been sceptical about coming here, after all. Very, very sceptical. But it was for science, and sometimes you have to take huge risks for science.
And sometimes… those risks pay off.
"It still freaks me out," he remarks, headtilting out the window at Desert Bluffs, which lies bathed in the red glow of dawn; the first fingertips of light glittering on the blood that lines each exterior surface, in clear defiance of every scientific law governing blood beyond the colour and the texture.
"I know," Kevin replies, kissing his neck again. "But you're getting better at it. You seem to have stopped having the dreams."
"Yeah," Carlos agrees. "I could do without those."
"I know. Although… it was kinda cute, the way I sometimes used to wake up to find you clinging to me."
"…Less fun when I was alone in my own apartment, though."
"Ah, so that's why you're here practically every night now…"
"…You know why I'm here practically every night now…" Carlos murmurs, a flicker of nervous embarrassment in his voice.
"Sure I do," Kevin replies, brightly. "Because of that thing I can do that makes you scream my name like it's the only word in your vocabulary."
"Besides that," Carlos says, though he's blushing rather a lot and it helps that he doesn't have to look Kevin in the eyes.
"I know," Kevin says, softer again. "And I'm glad you are. Because I think… I think I love you."
He's never said it before, not out loud. Carlos has never said it either, though he's thought about it and wondered… and perhaps he's been pushing towards this point, silently daring the other man to say it first so he'd know for sure. But somehow, hearing it makes him realise he should have said something weeks ago.
"…I think I love you too."
Kevin holds onto him tighter at that, and Carlos feels a rush of euphoria that completely transcends the physical. It isn't about the contact – though that's very enjoyable too – and it isn't about the lingering memories of last night. No. This… is deeper than both of those. More. This is how he can stay in a place that's so unsettling and so… threatening, at least on the outside. Because… because underneath… it's something else. Something different. Something… good?
Yes. Something very good.
"I… ah… should probably go shower," Carlos manages, still a little nervous. "I have lots of science to be getting to and… and…"
He trails off as Kevin's hand slips under his dressing gown and starts stroking over his chest, idly circling a nipple with a single fingertip. "…You don't have to go straight away, do you?" he murmurs in Carlos' ear, in that tone which almost makes Carlos' knees buckle.
No. Carlos does not have to go straight away.
In fact, Carlos does not have to go for quite a while.
***
The point at which things go horribly wrong can often be hard to spot, even long after the fact.
Not in this case. In this case it's clear as day, though not at first.
It starts, as so many things do, with an unexpected story on the radio. Carlos has it on in the lab when he's working – he always does – and he's used to items popping up that make him stop and stare at the radio itself, blinking at it in confusion as if the inanimate object somehow held an explanation for whatever oddity is being related.
It never does – OK, apart from that one occasion when all the electricity turned sentient – but that doesn't stop him. It's pretty much a reflex action now, and one he finds himself performing on a regular basis. Yes, small-town America can be very quirky at times – especially if you're more used to big cities – but even so, Desert Bluffs is… in a class of its own.
This particular day, Carlos is midway through disassembling a clock – because he's absolutely sure there's something wrong with time in this town – and listening to his boyfriend's regular broadcast. The words are drifting through his mind, warm and comforting, so he feels slightly jarred when he hears the sound of a door opening in the broadcast booth, and someone handing something to Kevin.
"Oh… some breaking news, listeners," Kevin says, the sudden shift in his voice making it clear he's surprised. "I have just received word from our beloved local mega-conglomerate, Strexcorp Synernists Inc, that –"
Ah, Strexcorp. On the one hand, Carlos is more than a little unnerved by the company. By their incessantly cheery PR and oddly sinister edge that he can't quite pin down. But, on the other hand, they're at the heart of Desert Bluffs' economy, and responsible for a borderline-zero unemployment rate in the town… and that really is an impressive business model.
"– they have today been informed of an impending hostile takeover bid by Nietzsche Futures PLC. This news came from out of the blue – especially considering what happened during the last attempted takeover bid Strexcorp faced back in 2003 – and a Strex spokesperson, giving a hastily-arranged press conference on the front steps of their HQ building, announced moments ago: "We do not know why any other company would attempt to move in on our territory, given our reputation, though we suspect it is due to our unbeaten business model and groundbreaking programme of urban regeneration. Nevertheless, Strexcorp does not stand for takeover bids – hostile or otherwise – and we are immediately calling on all our staff – both directly and indirectly employed – to take action. Nietzsche Futures' takeover teams are expected to arrive in Desert Bluffs within the hour and we cannot – we will not – allow them to succeed." So there you have it, folks. If you're on Strexcorp's books – and, let's face it, who in town isn't? – you should immediately make your way to your designated clocking-in point and prepare to defend your employers – and your town – from this unwelcome and unacceptable attempt on our tranquil way of life. And so, as we all move towards this unexpected addition to our day, I give you… the weather."
Very odd. Carlos is used to hearing news about Strexcorp on the radio – and not just because Kevin thinks they're absolutely wonderful – but this is the first time he's heard them try to… to what? Mobilise people? What are they all going to do, stand around a boardroom table somewhere and glower whilst negotiations take place?
Carlos picks up his phone to call Kevin and ask, but then thinks better of it. It's just business stuff of some kind, and whilst Carlos is able to recognise that it's important to some, to him it's just a distraction from science.
Besides. He's sure Kevin will tell him all about it tonight.
***
Carlos has always had a tendency to get very engrossed in his work. Sometimes he can be at it for hours and only snap out of his scientific reverie when someone else intervenes and points out that maybe he should try subsisting on something other than coffee. Or that he should maybe sleep in a bed, rather than slumped over his latest collection of notes.
This particular afternoon – long after the thoughts of Strexcorp's business activities have drifted into the back of his mind – is a prime example. The light is starting to fade when a noise in the distance makes Carlos look up and glance at the clock on the wall. If it can be trusted – and he's not at all sure it can – it's after six, and it's only now that he realises he's heard nothing from Kevin.
It's then that he processes the noise in the distance that caught his attention in the first place, as he hears it again: a low, sonorous rumble followed by… was that a scream?
Oh. What's going on?
Feeling a sudden stab of shock, Carlos leaps to his feet and hurries out of his lab, into the little apartment connected to it, and through to open the front door.
Beyond… is a scene from a nightmare. In the light of the low sun, Desert Bluffs glitters blood-red, though with far more blood than usual. Smoke is rising in the distance, along with flashes of fire, and – now he's outside – Carlos can hear even more screaming. As he watches, a man comes running along the debris-strewn street; a man in a black suit, with a bright sky-blue tie. He's running flat-out, absolute terror writ large across his face and following along behind him are two men in black suits with bright orange ties.
Strexcorp enforcers.
It's at this point that – despite all logic and common sense – Carlos is struck by the possibility that the term 'hostile takeover' might be quite literal in this case. The blue-tied man – who he assumes must be from Nietzsche Futures PLC – stumbles all of a sudden and sprawls to the floor. As he does, the two orange-tied Strex men close in on him, pulling out shiny silver blades and…
Carlos hurries back inside, pushing the door shut and leaning on it in mind-blanking horror.
He's just seen… he's… just…
Kevin. Where is Kevin? If this insanity is going on all over the town, then his boyfriend might be…
Panic hits and Carlos pulls out his phone, but he's got no signal. Whatever's happening, it's clearly affecting the telecommunications, because Desert Bluffs usually has excellent signal. He decides to risk going outside again, in the hopes that maybe he might be able to pick up at least a couple of bars, though has to pause first, taking several deep and steadying breaths.
And then he steps out. The street is silent now, and the two orange-tied men have gone. The blue-tied man is still there, though… lying prone with blood all over his back.
He isn't moving. On a logical level, Carlos processes that this is because the man is dead… but his mind can't fully engage with it.
He has to focus. Has to find Kevin. He looks at his phone but there's still no signal, and the panic gets worse because… because if this is happening all over town, then Kevin could be…
Don't think it. Don't think it. Maybe he should go out looking, or… oh, maybe he's got a signal-booster tucked away somewhere that might…
And that's when Carlos sees movement in the smoky haze further down the street: movement that resolves into several figures walking closer. For a second, he's sure he needs to run… but then he realises that the person at the head of the group is Kevin. The others are people – men and women alike – wearing the standard black suit and orange tie combination typical of the Strex business team, just like the two other men Carlos saw moments ago. As they get closer, Kevin waves them off, heading towards the apartment building… and slowing when he realises that Carlos is standing outside, staring over at him in horror.
It's hard not to. And it isn't because Carlos has just watched Kevin emerge from the chaos with a team of blood-streaked Strex personnel at his back as if they were following him. No. It's because of the way Kevin himself looks: half-drenched in blood that – from the way he's moving easily – can't be his own, hair tousled, eyes alight with pleasure. At his side he's holding a bright silver knife – with a short hilt and a long, narrow blade – though he sheathes it as he gets closer, seeming almost guilty.
All Carlos can do is keep staring, frozen to the spot, feeling as though the whole world has just collapsed on his head.
"…Kevin?" he manages, voice high-pitched and laden with terror and disbelief. "Kevin… what have you..?"
But he can't go on. Kevin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder and Carlos instinctively backs away, though it's the only movement he's capable of.
Kevin looks a little surprised. "What is it?" he asks. "Are you all right? I figured you'd be safe this far out… the takeover operation was heaviest in the town centre."
"You… I…" Carlos tries again, but the sentences still won't actualise.
This is worse than the nightmares. At least the nightmares were predominately abstract.
Before he can try to get words out again, there's heavy footsteps from further down the street and another figure appears through the haze… a figure that is clearly not human. For the first few seconds Carlos can only stare, as the creature stalks closer. It's alarmingly tall – maybe eight feet?! – and built like a very well-muscled humanoid man, only with a lot more spikes. Great, bat-like wings erupt from its back, and it wears only a black loincloth and thick metal boots, though every inch of its visible skin is drenched in blood. A sweeping pair of horns frame its head, which is set with vivid red eyes, and matches the red-eyed skull set into the pommel of its massive, spiked sword.
Carlos screams. Kevin manages to grab his arm before he can dart back into the building, though Carlos tries to push him off without even thinking about it.
"What is that thing?!" he exclaims.
Incredibly, Kevin turns and looks at the creature as if only just noticing it. "There you are!" he calls. "Could you maybe keep up?"
"Sorry," the creature replies, in a voice that seems to be resonant with the accumulated agonies of a thousand tormented souls. "I spotted one of their accounting teams a couple of blocks back. Couldn't resist."
Kevin grins. "Oh, you," he says, offhand, and then looks back at Carlos. "Sorry, where are my manners? Carlos, this is Azatothoth."
"Aza… what?"
"Azatothoth. Merciless Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, Seventeenth Adjunct to the Fourth Infernal Plane."
Carlos is still frozen to the spot. "He's a… a…"
"He's a demon," says Kevin, calmly. "My demon."
"Your… demon…"
"Yes! Well, it's a time-share arrangement. He's soul-bound to… how many is it now?"
"Over two hundred beings or entities across four planes of existence," Azatothoth chips in, resting his sword on his shoulder and looking not entirely in favour of the idea of idle conversation.
"But… where did he..?" Carlos now tries.
"Oh, I summoned him," Kevin answers. "I told you I could do that."
"I thought you were joking!"
"About demon-summoning? Carlos, that's hardly something to joke about…"
"Look," Azatothoth cuts in, "you two obviously need to have a little talk, and I haven't killed anything in at least ninety seconds, so I'm going to wander over to the park at the end of the street where I can clearly see three people hiding in the bushes and keep myself occupied until you're all done."
"Sure thing," Kevin replies. "See if you can get them to tell you where they've put the general ledgers. I know the middle-managers are still looking for some of those."
"Will do," Azatothoth says, and stalks off. There's some distant shrieking as he gets closer to his new targets, though Carlos is now too distracted to notice.
He's still staring at Kevin. "…You're covered in blood." These are the words he's been trying to get out for most of this – for want of a better word – conversation, though they don't feel any less awful once given voice.
"Yeah," Kevin replies. "Hostile takeover. Company called Nietzsche Futures PLC came to town and –"
"…I know," Carlos interrupts. "I heard your broadcast. Kevin, hostile takeovers happen in boardrooms. Deeply boring people with deeply boring spreadsheets debate them, an imperceptibly large quantity of money moves about electronically, and life carries on as normal."
"Uh… not round here," Kevin points out. "Here… hostile takeovers are a bit more… you know. Hands-on."
The hysterical edge is getting harder to hide. "You're covered in blood!" Carlos repeats.
Kevin shrugs. "That's pretty standard. And I am pretty high up the non-executive side of things, so I was right in at the deep end. Had to summon Azzie almost at once and–"
"…Azzie?!"
"Azzie. Azatothoth." Kevin gestures almost idly down the street where, in the distance, the eight-foot demon is chasing a shrieking man with what looks suspiciously like a detached leg in his other hand.
"…You call that creature… 'Azzie'?!"
Kevin shrugs again, looking remarkably blasé about the whole situation. "Sure I do, at least informally. Not in front of our superiors, of course."
Carlos stares for a long moment, fighting not to hyperventilate. "…You're covered in blood!" he manages, for a third time, as if hoping he might eventually get a response that makes things better, not worse.
"Yeah. It isn't mine, though, so don't worry."
"How can you be so calm about this?!"
Beneath the hysteria, Carlos' mind is starting to process just how calm Kevin really is about all this, and on an immediate level that's bad enough because of how uncalm Carlos needs him to be. But on a deeper level… it is infinitely more terrifying.
He's covered in someone else's blood and he's calm.
"Seriously, Carlos, I'm fine," Kevin insists – evidently processing the hysteria as concern for his well-being – and he tries to put a hand on Carlos' shoulder again. Tries to pull him in.
Carlos pushes him off, firmer this time, which makes Kevin stare at him in surprise, as if he's finally realising what's really going on. "Carlos… what is it?" he asks softly.
"You… this… all of this," Carlos replies, backing off further with his hands held up defensively. "You're wandering around drenched in blood and you don't seem to care!"
"Of course I care!" Kevin insists. "It was a hostile takeover! Do you know how dangerous those are? I was defending my employers, my town, my… I was defending you."
"Me?!" Carlos exclaims, eyes wide with fresh horror. "Don't make this about me!"
"But… how could it not be? You're my… my… Carlos, I love you."
The words sting like xylene on an open wound, and Carlos feels as though his knees are going to give way. Just this morning… just this morning those words were everything. They were sunlight, rapture, bliss and perfection.
Now… now they terrify him. Now they're coming from the lips of a man drenched in blood, a man with an apparently well-used blade sheathed at his back.
A man Carlos thought he knew.
"…Don't," he gasps. Pleads. "Just… don't. I can't."
"Carlos," Kevin says, reaching for him once again, "let's just go inside a moment and talk about this and…"
"No," Carlos manages. "No."
***
It's later that night, and Carlos is driving as fast as he dares along the darkened highway. In the rear-view mirror, he can see the distant lights of Desert Bluffs, fading further and further as he races away. There's a hastily-packed bag on the seat beside him, but that was all he had time for. All he could manage before everything became too much and he had to get out.
His phone starts to ring again, and he pulls over, parking by the roadside and looking at the screen.
It's Kevin. Kevin, obviously trying once more to talk him into coming back.
But he can't. He can't ever go back.
Carlos collapses against the steering wheel, emotion finally getting the better of him, breaking through every mental wall and leaving him suddenly sobbing, terrified and empty and soul-crushingly alone.
Eventually, once the wave of horror has finally died down, Carlos makes himself pause. Makes himself rub a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Then he pulls the SIM card from his phone, throws the card out the window, and disappears off into the night.