[This is writing I had to do for an assignment. To make it as bearable as possible I took it as an opportunity to write some alternate scenes in the MHLM-centric part of the SCPU. This is part 1]

[obviously kept this vague enough so it wouldn't seem like creepypasta] [oogh]

—

The crowd eyed Maximus dubiously. To say he'd changed would have been an understatement. His childlike ebullience had faded over the years, leaving the man gaunt—Annabelle made a mental note to give him some chicken soup after introductions—and with rakish clothing, worn and oversized, as if to sell just how scrawny he'd become. His face especially was what shocked her; pallid and hesitant, he looked as if he was on the verge of illness. It was obvious he'd preened himself regularly, at least, as regularly as one could while hopping from state to state, but his efforts sadly seemed for naught; his state was disconcerting to Ann, and if something unsettled Ann there was no telling how the others were bound to react.

Max spoke before anyone else, raising an eyebrow.

"Anni, is it the new title or have you lost your verve?"

Ann forced a laugh and clasped her hands together. It was a weak quip at best, but her brother was trying. Of course he had to try; she was the eldest of them all now, and that meant power. Responsibility. Some responsibilities that eluded her still. She shook her head as if to wring these burdens from herself for a moment and turned to her remaining brothers and sisters.

"Come on, don't just stand there, everyone." She cleared her throat softly before clasping her hands again. It was becoming a habit. "Welcome your brother back. We are a solace, remember?" Ann had to try her hardest not to grit her teeth on that word. Solace. As if anyone here believed that anymore.

A harsh, brusque voice cut through the vague mutterings of "welcome back"—Ann could have sworn she heard one of the younger sisters ask quietly, "who is he again?"—startling both her and Max.

"How do we know his mind hasn't been twisted?"

Ann, given time and proper sleep, could have offered a meager but existent selection of reasons as to why Max could be trusted. For instance, "he is our brother" would have dispelled any remaining cynicism among the family. Perhaps "if the impostors had warped his mind, I'd be able to tell." But she came up empty. Shame burned in her face and throat at the flippant question.

"That's fair, Anni." Max touched Ann's shoulder when it became clear that she wouldn't answer, his voice mellow and disarming. She studied his face; he had mustered a humble smile, though in his eyes was a clear, poignant discomfort at having been accused like this.

"It's a perfectly fair question," he said, bordering on redundancy, as if trying to convince himself just as much as the family of how fair the question was. He reached to adjust the collar of his shirt, faltering as his hand fell upon the empty spot where his tie used to be. He swallowed. "And I wish I had an answer to it. But..." He nodded to Ann and drummed his fingers on her shoulder. "...until Anni can supply me with a new uniform, adjustments and all, you all will just have to trust me. For a bit."

"He came here with somebody, you know," the voice said again on the tail of Max's words. Someone stepped forward from his brothers and sisters—someone with hair bottle-dyed green and a goading smile, someone he remembered to be particularly peevish relative to the family. Max nearly shook his head out of habit; no, that couldn't be right. This was a gravely serious matter. His own brother shouldn't have been testing him over something so trivial. Yet Jade flicked his wrist, a ready and pugnacious gleam in his eye, and continued.

"An outsider." Ignoring the gasps and wide-eyed glances skittering about him, he deigned further, disappointing Max to several degrees. "I saw him run off before the doors. Wasn't very happy—"

Max swallowed a curse. "All right, that's enough."

"I looked at your files, brother, and...I'm sorry. But five years? That's far too long to be left without question. You need to give us something to latch onto other than excuses, before you go running off too."

"Jade!" Anni's voice rang through the tunnel, her grip austere on Max's arm. She rubbed the dip in her brow and closed her eyes with a breath. "Be a dear and stay quiet, we don't need more paranoia among us, for God's sake."

"He is allied with an outsider, Anni, with all due—"

"It is your Elder to you. You may act as churlish as you want when he's settled back in, but another word from you in this hall and I will have to take action."

Jade faltered, then cowed, his hand flopping back to his side. To have rankled his brother, wary of betrayal, was one thing. To have done the same to his Elder seemed to fill him with regret. Anni ran a steadying hand over her Afro as if to preen ruffled feathers and sighed. Max gingerly took her hand off his arm with furrowed eyebrows.

"He's right."

Anni turned to him with wide eyes, and after a moment forced a laugh. "Masquie, please, you don't have to—"

"I came here with someone. Someone trustworthy." Max could have sworn he saw Jade bite back a remark at the word. Trustworthy. "He isn't like the outsiders you've met, not at all. He's—"

"Scarred," Jade muttered, disguising the comment as a cough. Max narrowed his eyes.

"So you saw him, Jade. Then you must know that he—"

"He's not your friend anymore. Not at all."

"Jade," Anni warned. Jade's audacity had waned, but he muttered nonsense under his breath, his head low and his hands fiddling with one another. Max bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he was never my friend. But he couldn't say that aloud; someone was bound to ask "Then what was he?" and the answer to that would please no one. No one except maybe Anni.

"That...is also true," Max said. Anni's gaze snapped his way again, solicitous for his quickly crumbling reputation.

"Masquie, we can talk about this later—"

"No, I want them to know." No I don't. Jade's made everyone distrustful of me. "We fought. He ran. It's nothing now. He is nothing."

"He's gone?" To Max's dread, a new voice rose from the group, strident and afraid. "You—you were at least trying to bring him back. He only got away because he outsmarted you. Right?"

"I let him." Max's stomach churned, and he braced himself for the onslaught.

"What?" asked several of his brothers and sisters, the group raucous and in disarray.

"What?" asked Anni, causing him a pang of guilt. He grappled for some kind of excuse, nothing of real substance reaching him.

"He's a hermit. He has no one, just like I did, he—"

"Masquie, you had us." Anni sounded heartbroken. Max's jaw tightened and he ripped his arm from hers.

"Then tell me, what exactly have I been doing these past five years?"

"Fraternizing with outsiders, apparently," Jade muttered from his spot, a tiny smirk barely hidden under a veil of righteousness. Max scoffed and flung a hand in the air.

"What profundity, Jade. What will you tell me next, that my hair is black?"

"Masquie—"

"I did what I had to!" Max cut Anni off, too harried to care what kind of authority she had over him. "I ran. I lied. I killed. Sometimes I'd shock myself just to feel a trace of our past Elder. Tell me, would someone so far-gone do something like that?"

"Masquie, we're all going to go inside now, all right—?"

"One of you, go, live on the run for five years and counting, not sure when you'll get your next meal or when you'll ever see a familiar face again. One of you do that, see how it weighs on your mind. I did what I had to," Max repeated. He closed his eyes, a welcome reprieve from the shocked faces before him. "I killed. You've all done that, right? And somehow, it's the end of the world that maybe I'd found someone who could help me."

"We believe you." Anni was disarmed, her brother's outburst so jarring she couldn't think of much else to say. "You're all right now, Masquie, I...isn't that what matters?"

"Apparently not." Max's gaze locked onto Jade, bitter and morose.