Terry

Standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by wreckage, Maxwell could barely process what had just happened. The silence was deafening, but it was drowned out by the rapid pounding of his heart.

That... that was a Brand. His clothes soaked with sweat, Maxwell collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air. It took him nearly five minutes to gather himself.

"Fuck... Fuck. I almost died just now. That big guy was about to kill me." His mind raced as he realized just how close to death he had come. He cursed his fate once more. "Why is my life like this? Can't I catch a break?"

In the distance, Maxwell suddenly heard explosions. A sinking feeling overwhelmed him as he rushed to his feet. His apartment was only a block away, but it felt like an unreachable goal.

"Alright, calm down. It's just a block. You can do this." Clearing his mind of all distractions, Maxwell sprinted forward.

He pushed his body to its limits, adrenaline flooding his veins. As the sound of a whoosh echoed behind him, he picked up speed.

Boom.

With a force that sent Maxwell flying, something crashed into the ground nearby.

Struggling to rise, Maxwell glanced at the source of the impact. He quickly ducked as a massive chunk of the ground sailed over him. Realizing he had been launched right next to a building, he crawled toward the back of a staircase, shrouded in the darkness of the night.

Breathing heavily, Maxwell looked ahead, where two Brands were engaged in battle. Both were towering, nearly as large as the behemoth from before, and just as terrifying. One of them had purple, scaly skin and wore a dragon mask. His wine-colored tank top strained against his bulging muscles, threatening to rip at any moment. His dark blue pants were already torn in multiple places.

The other Brand appeared rather plain in comparison. He wore only camo pants, his bare chest covered in tattoos. He was the larger of the two, though he looked worse for wear. A long brown beard, stained red with blood, hung from his face.

Despite his size, the bearded one was surprisingly fast, launching punch after punch. Each strike cracked the pavement beneath him. However, the purple-skinned Brand proved to be quicker. He slid under the bearded one's last punch, grabbing hold of his opponent's right leg.

With a powerful heave, the purple-skinned Brand threw his opponent down the road with enough force to smash through the pavement.

There was no pause for the bearded Brand to catch his breath. The purple-skinned giant shot into the air like a cannon, the ground shattering beneath him.

A moment of silence followed, broken only by the bearded man dragging himself out of the wreckage he had caused when he slammed into the ground. Then, there was a booming sound from the sky.

For a brief second, Maxwell thought it was beautiful—a purple light shooting down, leaving behind a trail of yellow.

Then he realized he was within the blast radius, but it was too late.

KRABOOM.

Maxwell was flung twenty-one feet into the air, a dreadful sense of weightlessness overwhelming him as the explosion sent him flying. Buildings crumbled, and the ground turned to glass from the intense heat.

Still feeling the rush of air around him, Maxwell braced himself for impact, trying to steady his mind.

And then the pain hit. It felt as though a steel beam had fallen on him, the agony exploding across his body as he teetered between consciousness and unconsciousness. Tears streamed down his face as he attempted to curl into himself, but every movement only intensified the searing pain.

"Tha... so exc...ing," a voice murmured.

Amidst the agony, Maxwell could hear muffled sounds.

"Dude must be having... much fun. Huh, look over there, it's a person." Another voice, a female this time.

"Damn, that must've hurt. Is he still alive?" the first voice asked, and Maxwell still couldn't tell if it belonged to a man or a woman.

Oof.

Suddenly, Maxwell felt something strike his stomach with force, causing him to groan in pain.

"Yep, definitely still alive," the female voice called out.

"You didn't have to kick him. I can't even imagine the pain he's going through right now," the sexless voice said, sounding genuinely concerned.

Maxwell's mind briefly relaxed as he thought the nightmare might be over, that he would be getting help soon.

But his heart sank the next moment.

"Oh, please. You wanna let him live?" The female voice whined.

"Can't have that now, can we?" the sexless voice responded, its tone turning sadistic.

Click.

It was a simple sound—one Maxwell had heard countless times before. The sound of two hard surfaces coming together.

But this time, it was followed by an overwhelming wave of pain that drowned out all his senses.

"...."

Maxwell let out a voiceless scream as he was sent flying once again, but this time, he didn't experience the weightlessness he had felt before. In fact, he couldn't feel anything at all, except the excruciating pain.

"Well, he's dead now," the female voice said from a distance.

"Aww, I wanted to have some fun," the sexless voice sounded disappointed.

"Come on, let's go find someone you can actually bully to death," the female voice called, growing farther away.

'I'm... dead?' Maxwell lay there, his body slowly growing cold.

'That can't be right. The pain... God, the pain won't stop.' His thoughts broke apart as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

'Ah... I'm dying.' The thought seemed to calm him as the pain slowly receded.

Slowly, Maxwell opened his heavy eyelids, and the pain returned in a dull wave.

The first thing he noticed was the familiar staircase a few feet away from him.

A strange turn of events, he had ended up right in front of his apartment.

Closing his eyes and opening them again, his heart stilled.

Sitting on the lowest step was someone he never thought he would see.

"Ben," Maxwell croaked, his throat clogged with blood.

Ben looked as though he had just returned from school, his bag in hand. He waved his free hand, and though his voice made no sound, Maxwell could understand everything he said: "Come on, let's go inside." Ben then turned and walked into the house.

"Wai... wait for me," Maxwell called, slowly pushing himself to his feet and following him.

As he stepped into the living room, everything looked just as it had over a month ago—clean and tidy. Maxwell glanced around, his eyes following Ben's figure as he disappeared through a door that led to their rooms.

A wave of dizziness washed over Maxwell, the tempting pull of sleep distant but ever-present. He fought it off, pushing himself to follow Ben.

As he stepped through the door, he saw Ben walking into his room. Maxwell's steps grew heavier, but he pressed on until he stood before the door to Ben's room.

His hand rested on the handle, and a feeling rose in his chest, a mixture of peace and resignation. This was it, the rest he had longed for. Eternal peace.

He pulled open the door and walked in. The room hit him with a deep sense of nostalgia, though he couldn't quite understand why.

Ben sat at his desk, feeding his grasshopper, his focus entirely on the small creature.

"Ben," Maxwell called softly.

Ben turned to face him, extending his hand forward. His lips moved, but no words came out. Yet Maxwell heard him clearly.

"His name is Terry," Ben said, his voice silent but unmistakable.

"Oh yeah?" Maxwell responded, fighting the urge to cry in front of Ben, though his voice cracked despite his best efforts.

"He's like a super grasshopper. When I found him, he was missing half his body. Look, he grew it all back!" Ben said excitedly, pointing at the grasshopper.

"Oh? Isn't that normal though? You know, for insects," Maxwell laughed softly as he poked at the grasshopper with a pen. The insect promptly hopped away, skittering out of reach.

"No, I asked my teacher, and she said only a few insects can do that. That makes Terry special. I just know it," Ben said, carefully picking up Terry and cradling him in his palm.

Maxwell watched, tears continuing to fall with no sign of stopping. His body felt unbearably stiff as he walked toward Ben.

Then, Ben turned to face him, lifting the grasshopper towards him with such tenderness, handling it like one would a baby.

"He's special, I just know it," Ben said, his eyes glowing with excitement.

Maxwell reached out, instinctively moving his hand toward Ben's. But his hand passed right through, as if Ben were nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Looking up, Maxwell saw Ben looking at him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen.

Tears streamed down Maxwell's face as Ben faded away, and the room returned to its previous dusty and neglected state. A chill crept through his stomach, and when he looked down, he saw a hole the size of a person's head, blood pouring from it.

"Oh right. I was dying," he whispered.

Weakly, he fell to his knees, pushing Ben's desk with a loud thud. Blotches of black clouded his vision, and he collapsed, his body hitting the floor with a thump. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the last of his strength drain away.

The sweet, cold embrace of sleep wrapped around him.

His eyes slowly lost their light.

Maxwell Flores had died.

But his story was not over.

Hop.

Hop.

Hop.

A tiny green creature bounced toward Maxwell's body — the grasshopper known as Terry. It landed in a pool of Maxwell's blood, its vibrant green color fading into a pale golden sheen. The now-golden grasshopper hopped onto Maxwell's chest and crawled toward his neck.

The creature stayed still for a few moments, and then, slowly, it began to disintegrate until there was nothing left.

But there was something left. On Maxwell's neck, a golden glowing mark appeared, flickering before quickly fading away.

The next moment, Maxwell's skin began to change color.

First, it turned green.

Then blue.

Then yellow.

Then brown.

And then, a myriad of other colors.