The Wall

Caleb rushed up the stairs to the third floor. He didn't knock on Vance’s door; he just barged in.

"Vance, something is wrong. The people outside, they looked—"

Caleb stopped.

The mid-century furniture was gone. The apartment was completely empty.

No, not empty.

The back wall of the living room—the wall that should have separated the apartment from the alleyway—was missing.

In its place was a membrane. A stretching, glistening wall of red muscle and translucent tissue, pulsating with a wet, rhythmic beat. It stretched from floor to ceiling, veins thick as garden hoses pumping dark fluid through the structure.

Standing in front of it was Vance.

But Vance wasn't wearing his suit. He was naked, but his skin wasn't human. It was translucent, revealing shifting, red geometries underneath. He had his hands pressed into the meat-wall, and the wall was *feeding* him. Color, light, and energy flowed from the pulsing mass into Vance’s body.

Vance turned. His face was a mask of ecstasy.

"Caleb!" Vance roared, his voice sounding like it was coming from underwater. "You're early! We haven't set the table yet!"

"What are you?" Caleb scrambled back, tripping over his own feet. "What is this?"

"This?" Vance gestured to the wall of gore. "This is home, Caleb. The Crimson Plane. We don't have walls there. We don't have distance. We are all one. Total Unity."

Vance stepped away from the wall. He looked bigger now, swollen with power.

"I told you I needed a friend," Vance smiled, and his teeth were needles. "Oakhaven is so dry. So grey. It takes so much energy to keep this shape. I have to drain the color from everything else just to stay bright."

"You're eating the world," Caleb whispered. "You're making it grey."

"I'm metabolizing the boredom," Vance corrected. "And in exchange, I'm bringing you love. True love. Absorption."