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There is a monster in Amity Park.
There is a monster in Amity Park, with a sterile white suit for a body and a blank helmet as its face. Except the suit isn’t sterile, and the helmet isn’t blank—for wide, painful cracks run down the creature’s black mask, leaking neon green that drip, drip, drip down its mask, staining that once-sterile suit in a manner that reminds Jazz eerily of blood.
Jazz can’t be blamed for thinking the creature is nothing but liquid underneath that suit. In fact, most of Amity Park believe as much—that the Amity Park Monster (deemed such by one unimaginative journalist or another) is a mud creature risen from the swamp of Lake Eerie, or perhaps an escaped concoction of chemicals from a mad scientist’s lab. (the monster’s hazmat suit certainly points to the latter theory) (some even go as far as to say the creature was born from FentonWorks, but those same people tend to glare at Jazz and Danny wherever they go. Jazz doesn’t care for their opinions at all)
Jazz, like the rest of the town, also believes the creature cannot talk, though she does think the Amity Park Monster is sapient. On the rare occasions it is caught on the news, it never speaks, but dodges out of sight almost instantly. (one needs certain intelligence to know how to avoid cameras and microphones shoved into its face)
At least, that was what she believed. That was before she found the creature collapsed in a dark alley, its helmet even more cracked than normal, and the monster whimpered out—
“…Jazz…”
How does it know her name?
Jazz knows the rational option would be to run away, and forgot she ever heard anything. But her thirst for knowledge exceeds even her reasonably high sense of self-preservation, and even the most rational people make irrational choices sometimes. So, morbid curiosity churning in her abdomen, Jazz abandons the safety of the sidewalk for the darkness of the alley.
“You know me.” Jazz says softly. The creature gives a slight nod. “How do you know me?”
“…help…no time…”
The creature’s voice is a weak rasp, and it sounds—it is in pain.
“How?” Jazz drops to her knees, next to the creature. She implores, “Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you.”
“…hurt…only…trust you…”
Trust her? But they’ve never met before.
Jazz opens her mouth to say as much, but then—
Gloved hands reach upwards, grabbing the side of the creature’s helmet. The cracked material melts away, revealing—
Black hair, matted to the creature’s head by blood—red leaking into the neon green. Blue eyes, once clear as the summer sky, now dim and clouded with pain. Pale skin that bespoke of blood loss rather than a lack of exposure to the sun, and more importantly—
A gaping, bleeding hole, in the center of the creature’s forehead, red and green spilling down the creature’s face like a waterfall—and oh, Jazz is going to have nightmares about this, isn’t she?
“Danny,” Jazz gasps. The creature the boy her brother is bleeding out in front of her, dying in front of her, except he should already dead—that wound is a lethal shot—and he is the Amity Park Monster—her brother is a monster—does this mean he’s already undead or changed or worse?
Gloved hands feebly pat Jazz’s arm, the only place Danny can reach. It’s enough to bring Jazz out of her spiral.
Right. Jazz takes a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Her brother needs her—everything else can wait.
“…bring…home.” Danny instructs shakily, “Can heal…alone…need time…”
“Are you…are you sure?” Jazz asks, pursing her lips. “If Dad and Mom are home—”
Danny nods. The action seems to take his remaining strength, because he slumps against Jazz immediately after. “…trust…go…”
With that, his clouded eyes slide shut, and Jazz is left alone with what might as well be the corpse of her baby brother.
She takes another deep breath. Inhale, exhale.
Trust, Danny said. Jazz isn’t sure if he meant that he trusts her, or that she should trust him. Either way, her next course of action is clear.
Bring Danny home, and trust that he can heal himself like he claimed.
Swallowing, Jazz slings Danny across her shoulders in a fireman carry. (Danny is strangely light, even with his hazmat suit. Jazz tries not to think too much about that)
Jazz stands up, with her brother over her shoulders and a heart far heavier than her little brother. She takes another deep breath, and begins making her way home.