[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/XV76TzX/Pickles.jpg[/img]
[color=a9a9a9][b]JACK PERKINS[/b][/color] :+: [color=a9a9a9][b]WIT'S END, NYC COMPOUND[/b][/color] :+: [color=a9a9a9][b]MENTIONS: NONE[/b][/color][/center]

	"[color=a9a9a9]'Ey Jack![/color]" shouted the grumpy older man behind the bar.  "[color=a9a9a9]Table six ain't gonna clean itself, ya?[/color]"

	"[color=f7976a]O-on it,[/color]" Jack stammered.  A plain white T-shirt and some old faded blue jeans.  This was Jack's work uniform for the day.  He had been in the compound for nearly a week and learned that it was nearly its own contained ecosystem.  His job on the outside was gone as soon as he was labelled a deviant.  Now that he was a resident of Devo Town, he had to find a way to make money if only to pay for the meager helpings of food he needed to survive.  He was not a large man.  A polite way of describing him would be to say he was slender.  A more accurate way was to say he looked like a walking skeleton.

	As he went to table six, he noticed upon the dishes that the customers had left a quarter of a sandwich behind.  Jack stared at it intently and checked the bar to see if the old man was looking.  He wasn't.  Jack quickly scooped up the sandwich and shoved it into his mouth, masticating furiously so that he could get rid of the evidence as quickly as possible.  It was despicable and he hated himself for doing it.  For [i]having[/i] to do it.  He felt so awkward and alone in this hellhole. Pickles hadn't made a peep since the day he was tranqued, kidnapped and delivered here.  Despite Jack trying to reach out to his other half, there was no response.  It was maddening.

	As himself, Jack was powerless.  That was one of many notions that scared him most.  He was a sheep in the land of wolves.  Everyone around him was extraordinary in some way.  Everyone was potentially dangerous.  If any one of them decided that Jack looked like delectable prey, what was he to do against them?  Each waking moment was a lonesome nightmare.

	Once Jack gathered up all the dishes, he loaded them into a tub turned to go deliver them to the dishwasher.  Except he wasn't paying attention when he made the move and found himself running into a rather massive patron, the tub clashing up against them, spilling the dishes and their remnants all over the giant of a man.

	"[color=fff200]What the fuck!  What the fuck is this shit![/color]" The man roared.  Jack looked up at him and met his eyes.  They were slit like a reptile's.  The skin around his eyes seemed carved and hard like scales, though it smoothed out into normal skin the further you went.  The man's check was as big as a barrel, covered in a red flannel shirt and some tattered overalls.

	"[color=f7976a]I'm, I'm s-sorry.  I didn't see-[/color]"
	
	"[color=fff200]Sorry doesn't clean my fucking shirt, you little shit![/color]"  The flannel-clad behemoth grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt with both and and pulled him in, lifting the skinny guy into the air as he let out a primal growl.

	[color=f7976a][i]Pickles!  Pickles, please!  Come out here now!  He's going to hurt [b]BOTH[/b] of us if you don't do something![/i][/color]  Jack's forehead began to bead with sweat, his heart racing.  Panic set in completely and he started finding it hard to breathe.  The reptilian patron threw Jack backward, causing him to land hard on his back, the latter's lungs were immediately robbed of air as he laid there, curling into a ball, trying to inhale as much oxygen as he could as quickly as possible.  His assailant took one more look at him and spit, covering Jack's cheek with a vomit inducing amount of warm saliva.

	"[color=fff200]Next time watch where you're fucking going, kid![/color]"  Those were the giant's parting words as he left the Wit's End.  Jack reluctantly pulled himself to his feet and wiped off his check as best he could with his bare hand.  His face was stuck in a perpetual grimace as he leaned down to pick up all the dishes he had dropped.  Before long he noticed the old bartender standing beside him.

	"[color=a9a9a9]Y'know, ya really ought to stick up for yourself, boy.  You keep letting them push you around, they're gonna keep doing it.[/color]"  Jack gave a wordless nod and pushed his way passed the man, wanting to eject himself from the situation as quickly as possible.  He dropped the tub off in the sink with a loud clatter before dashing into the restroom reserved for employees.  He was sweating all over now.  His skin radiated heat as he felt his temper and anxiety flaring up.  We looked at the bathroom mirror and stared at himself.

	"[color=f7976a]Where are you![/color]" He shouted, accusatory.  This was [i]his[/i] fault.  Pickles was supposed to be his friend.  He was supposed to stick with him forever.  "[color=f7976a]Why... why did you leave me when... when I need you the [i]most![/i][/color]" The last word was shouted out with rage as Jack send his right fist flying into the mirror, shattering it.  He immediately recpoiled, pain shooting through his hand.  The mirror had bitten back.  Blood began to drip down his torn knuckles, flowing into the separations of his fingers, down his digits to his fingertips.  Jack looked at it in dismay.  Just another thing that had gone wrong.  As he stared for seconds longer, a notion hit him.  An idea.

	Jack raised his bloody hand to his face and touched his nose.  He gave it a slow, steady swirl, painting it in red before moving onto his cheek.  In one smooth arced stroke, Jack covered his mouth in his own crimson fluid.  He looked at what was left of the mirror again and saw the vessel of his friend starring back.

	"[color=f7976a]Please... please, Pickles...[/color]" His voice faded toward the end, as did his hope.

	[color=c4df9b][i]HAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAAAA! [/i][/color] It rang out in stereo within his own mind.  He knew that laugh.  His eyes grew wide.  His frown went agape with excited anticipation.

	"[color=f7976a]Pickles?[/color]"

	"[color=c4df9b]Ha! You see!! You need me, Jackie Boy!  You're nothing without your [i]Friend For Life![/i] Haha![/color]"  The voice was not Jack's, but it nevertheless came out of Jack's mouth.  It was shrill, and disturbing.  The octave of his speech fluctuated to extremes.  Some words were very deep while others sounded like they were induced by helium.

	"[color=f7976a]Y-you're right, please.  You've got to help me survive out there.  These... these deviants, they-[/color]"

	"[color=c4df9b]Shushushushushush.  Hush your pretty little mouth.  Here's the deal.  The one and only.  You can never try to disown me again, Jackie Boy.  You can never try to shut me out.  I get to drive, too, you see?  I get to [i]live[/i]![/color]"  Jack was scared to make such a deal.  When Pickles was in control, bad things happened.  "[color=c4df9b]What do ya say, old sport?  Fifty-fifty?[/color]"  As much as he wanted to resist the proposal it was true; he was going to [i]need[/i] Pickles around if he were to have any hope of anything.  A necessary evil.

	"[color=f7976a]Ok-okay,[/color]" he said simply, looking defeated as he did so.

	"[color=c4df9b]Ho-Hoooo!  Happy Day, Jackie Boy!  Now, my friend!  Now it's time to plaaaAAAaaayyyy, HAhaHA![/color]"