The night began like any other. Aphmau’s house was alive with the usual comfort of friends: Aaron quietly helping in the kitchen, Zane buried in a book on the couch, Kawaii~Chan humming to herself as she scrolled on her phone, and Kim sketching at the table with her headphones in. Garroth had the TV on low, while Pierce and Rhys—who had come by to hang out—were half-arguing, half-joking as always. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing seemed wrong.

And then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Long enough for every head in the room to look up. Aaron frowned, setting down the pan he was holding. Zane’s book lowered slightly as his brow knit together. “That… wasn’t the storm, was it?” Kim asked, tugging her headphones down. Outside, the sky was clear. Too clear.

That’s when the air grew cold. Not just a draft—an unnatural, suffocating cold that sank into the skin and settled in the chest. Kawaii~Chan’s smile faded as she clutched her phone tighter. “Uhm… did anyone else hear that?” she whispered. A low static hum bled into the room, like a broken TV left on in the background. The sound grew louder, filling their ears until it was all they could hear.

The lights died. Absolute darkness swallowed them. In the next heartbeat, a harsh white light snapped on at the far corner of the room—unnatural, blinding. And in that light stood… Aphmau. Or what looked like her. Her body was stiff, her head tilted at a grotesque angle, and her smile was too wide, stretching past where lips should go. Her voice came out like a warped recording: “You… can’t run…”

Everyone froze. Aaron instinctively moved in front of Aphmau, shielding her as Zane grabbed her wrist to pull her back. Kim gasped, nearly dropping her sketchbook, while Kawaii~Chan’s eyes widened, hands trembling. Garroth whispered in disbelief: “No… no way…”

The light stuttered again, and more figures appeared in the shadows. Spider Alternate Pierce crawled along the ceiling, limbs too long, claws scraping against plaster. Alternate Melissa emerged from the darkness with a doll-like smile and eyes that didn’t blink. Behind her, Alternate Asch’s towering, warped form shifted with each flicker, like reality itself was struggling to hold him in shape. Alternate Leif, Alternate Katelyn, and even Bug-like versions of Aaron and Aphmau twitched in the corners, whispering in voices that weren’t their own.

The static swelled, every Alternate speaking at once in distorted unison: “We are you. We are not you. You belong to us.”

Aphmau’s heart raced as she backed up into Aaron, clutching his arm. Rhys narrowed his eyes, the usual mischief gone, replaced with grim seriousness. Pierce, for once, wasn’t smiling—his jaw tight as he muttered, “That’s… not me.”

And then the lights cut again. The room plunged into complete darkness. All that remained was the sound of crawling claws on the ceiling, a hundred whispers overlapping, and the suffocating realization:

The Alternates had arrived.