[Recap]
"What's up with you? You seem distant."
Tony doesn't respond at first, just stirring the bowl with his spoon.
"I think i'm just tired."
She doesn't say anything. But she softens her expression.
"You're still my son. Even when you shut me out."
Another pause, not awkward— just heavy.
"What was father like?"
She stiffens.
"He was a kind man, he was very protective, I could say" she laughed silently.
Tony could feel that deep down something was wrong, he wanted to know more of his father and why he was never in his life.
"What happened to him?"
She sighs and meets Tony's eyes.
"He left, he came back as if he had gotten into a fight. On that night, he told me he had to leave, he got an invitation to a club." She shakes her head, resting her hand on her face.
"He didn't explain. He just left. That was the last time I saw him"
[End]
After a bit of silence— Olivia came down from the stairs.
"Dinner done? What are we having?"
The mother looks over at Olivia.
"Chicken stew, come sit."
The family eats in silence until Tony speaks up.
"What do you think of Father after what happened, Mother?"
"Tony, I still loved your father, now.. it's best we move on, and not think too much about the past, I gotta go to bed now. Good night" she says stern before standing.
Tony stays quiet not wanting to upset his Mother any further, only replying with a Good night.
"So.. Olivia—"
Before he can finish his words, Olivia interrupts him.
"Not interested, I have stuff to do"
Tony looks down, seeing both of them walk away from the table. Being that it's his turn to do the dishes, he collects the dishes and heads toward the sink.
[30 minutes later — In Tony's Room]
Tony lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he pulls the token from his pocket.
"Isn't this supposed to be a key, what the hell does this even do."
The token doesn't react, but glows slightly.
"Do something, at least"
The token remains normal, glowing.
Tony sighs, and puts the token on his dresser, and gets under his covers.
[Later that night]
The token starts to pulse, like a beating heart, floating towards Tony, before landing on his chest.
Oh? Seems like Tony has a visitor—.
[Next Morning — Tony's bed]
Tony wakes up, spotting the token on his chest.
"Didn't I put this on the dresser.."
Tony turns— and freezes.
She's there.
Sitting in the chair beside his bed like she's always belonged. The woman from the fight club. Legs crossed, a sleek black coat draped over her shoulders, and in her lap— a knife, glinting slightly in the dim morning light.
She brings the blade up slowly and taps it gently against her lips before pressing it just under Tony's chin.
"Shh, sweetie. Don't do anything stupid."
Tony nods, sweat already forming at his temple.
She grins— wide, too wide— and sets the knife across her knees, casual as if it were a remote.
"I always wanted to see where you lived. Cute place. A little sad," she adds, eyes flicking over the posters on his wall, the worn hoodie hanging off a chair.
Tony swallows hard. "You broke into my room just to insult my decor?"
She lets out a soft laugh. "Mmm. I like you. Got some spine after all."
She leans in slightly, her voice dropping. "But don't mistake this for anything more. I could've gutted you in your sleep."
He holds her stare. "But you didn't."
She tilts her head, amused. "Maybe I like seeing how you flinch."
A beat.
Then she stands, twirling the knife once before slipping it away into her coat. She walks over to the window and draws the curtain back just a little, peeking outside.
"Things are changing, Tony. Faster than you think."
Tony pushes himself up on one elbow. "Why are you here?"
She glances at him over her shoulder, hair catching the morning light like a curtain of ink.
"Just wanted to remind you... we're watching. And you're not just some lost boy anymore."
She moves to the door, opens it slightly, then pauses.
"Oh. And next time, maybe lock your window. Makes the game more interesting."
Then she slips out, quiet as a shadow.
Tony's left staring at the open window, heart still pounding.
He looks down at the token on his chest. It's still glowing, faintly pulsing like it knows something he doesn't.
[Tony's Room — Moments Later]
Tony stays frozen for a while, still staring at the door. The hum of morning silence creeps back in, almost as if none of it happened.
But the faint glow of the token on his chest tells a different story.
He slowly sits up, running a hand down his face. His body feels like it hasn't rested at all.
"Great. Creepy knife lady drops in and now I get to go to school like it's normal," he mutters, grabbing the token and slipping it back into his pocket.
He gets out of bed and walks to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He stares at himself in the mirror. Same face. Same eyes.
But something about his reflection looks just a little off— like it's reacting half a second slower than it should.
He blinks. The mirror catches up.
Tony steps back.
"Nope. Not today."
He grabs a towel and walks out, shaking it off. "Maybe I need more sleep. Or less demons. One or the other."
[Kitchen — A Bit Later]
Tony pulls on his hoodie as he walks into the kitchen. Olivia's already eating cereal, scrolling through her phone.
Their mom is by the sink, sipping coffee. Her eyes are tired.
"Morning," Tony mumbles, grabbing a slice of toast.
His mom glances at him. "You look like you didn't sleep."
Tony shrugs. "Didn't get much."
She raises a brow, but doesn't push it.
Olivia glances up from her phone. "You get haunted or something?"
Tony freezes with the toast halfway to his mouth.
Olivia snorts. "Kidding. You're just pale."
Tony recovers with a weak laugh. "Maybe I'm becoming a ghost. Saves time commuting."
Their mom sighs. "Eat your food. You've got school."
[Outside — Moments Later]
Backpack slung over his shoulder, Tony steps out onto the street. The sky's still gray, clouds hanging low like they're waiting for something to happen.
He walks.
Each window he passes reflects his image.
Until one—
One reflection has something... off.
Tony slows, eyes scanning the glass of a darkened storefront window.
His reflection moves— but there's a delay. A half-second too late. Like it's thinking about it.
In that moment, something flickers behind its eyes. Something dark. Wrong.
Tony steps back. The reflection steps back— just a breath off again.
He turns his head slightly, trying not to show he's unsettled. Then keeps walking, forcing his eyes forward.
He doesn't notice the faint distortion ripple across the window behind him.
Then—
Step. Step. Step.
Footsteps. But not his.
A voice echoes beside him, smooth and amused.
"Nice to meet you again... Tony, wasn't it?"
Tony turns. Standing a few feet away is a tall man in a long coat— impossibly clean. His smile is sharp, knowing. It's that man from the club.
"You again," Tony mutters, pulse rising. "What do you want?"
The man chuckles softly, taking a single step forward, hands behind his back.
"I came for the token."
Tony hesitates. His fingers instinctively reach into his pocket. He pulls the coin halfway out, watching the way it glows faintly in the fading light.
"This? It doesn't even do anything. It just glows."
The man's smile never falters.
"Oh, Tony. That's because you haven't given it something to respond to... yet."
Before Tony can speak, he stumbles—his knees buckling like the world tilted slightly beneath him.
The sky twists. The buildings stretch. Sounds distort.
His vision warps. Light bleeds at the edges.
He blinks hard, and suddenly— he's standing in an alley. Alone. But... not alone.
From the far end of the alley, something peels itself from the shadows like liquid ink.
It looks like him.
Same shape. Same face. But its skin is made of shifting black tar, and its glowing white eyes pierce through the dark. Its mouth is a wide, jagged grin— far too wide.
It tilts its head.
"You carry me around like I'm nothing," it whispers, though its lips never move.
"Time you met the real me."
[Hallucination — The Alley]
Tony's breath hitches.
The Smiler lunges— unnaturally fast. Its limbs stretch slightly as it moves, like liquid barely holding a human shape.
Tony ducks just in time— the creature's fist smashes into the brick wall behind him with a wet crack.
The wall ripples— as if it's made of tar too.
Tony stumbles back, heart racing. He throws a punch. It connects—
But it's like striking thick rubber. The Smiler absorbs it effortlessly, grin widening, eyes narrowing with a snicker.
"You can't hurt me," it hisses, grabbing Tony's arm.
With one brutal motion, it hurls him across the alley.
Tony slams into the opposite wall— again, the bricks ripple unnaturally.
He crashes to the ground but scrambles up, chest heaving.
"So weak. To think you have my blood!" the Smiler roars.
Its voice layers over itself— Tony's own voice twisted beneath something deeper. Older.
step... step... step.
Tony steadies himself. Fists clenched.
"Ready to fight?" the Smiler coos. "That makes me excited!"
It rushes in. Tony grabs a rusted pipe leaning nearby— swings hard.
It hits.
The Smiler jerks— but only for a second.
Then, dozens of tar-black hands erupt from its torso, clawing at Tony and dragging him forward.
Tony growls— eyes flaring. He slams the pipe into the creature's chest, kicks off, and breaks free, landing hard.
"What the hell... back off!" he yells, pipe raised.
"You bastard. You tell me to back off after attacking me?" it barks.
"You lunged first— it was self-defense!" Tony snaps.
The Smiler pauses. "Ah. Fair. Still— this is getting boring. Let's get back to the fun part."
It lunges again.
Tony ducks, but it's already there— grabbing his shoulder mid-move and slamming him into the wall.
He gasps— pain sharp, real.
"You can't escape your reflection," it growls.
It pins him. Tilts its head, eyes flickering with malice.
Though it has no mouth, Tony feels that grin stretch across his face.
"Let me wear you for a while."
Tony headbutts it— hard. The Smiler stumbles.
He breaks free, grabs a trash can lid, and slams it into the thing's chest like a shield.
It absorbs the hit, barely fazed.
Then it grabs him again.
Tar-like arms coil around Tony, pulling him to the ground.
They twist, turning Tony onto his stomach and writhe like vines— tight, suffocating.
The Smiler's voice distorts— low and echoing from inside Tony's mind.
"I'm not your enemy. I'm your reminder."
Tony thrashes, kicking, fighting to breathe.
His hand goes to his pocket—
Gone.
"Looking for this?" the Smiler says in that man's voice voice, holding the token up between blackened fingers.
Tony's eyes widen.
The Smiler's face blurs— the man's grin flickers over it. Then Dahlia's. Then Tony's own.
"You're not ready yet."
With one final slam—
Darkness.
[Back in Reality — Tony's Room]
Tony bolts upright, gasping. Sweat-soaked. Chest pounding.
His hand darts to his pocket.
Nothing.
He scans the room— eyes land on his desk.
A small sticky note sits there, elegantly written:
"Thanks for the token.
Sweet dreams, my little prototype.
—Dr. Drake"
Tony stares.
His jaw tightens.
Fists clench.