The Static Between Worlds

Chapter Four: Flickerpath

The note sat on the table like a puzzle piece from a world that no longer made sense.

"Don't trust the ones who smile."

Rhett's handwriting was unmistakable—looping, quick, and slanted like he wrote it in a hurry. He was out there somewhere. Ilya didn't know how, or where, or in what condition, but she knew one thing:

He was still trying to reach her.

Moth lounged on the armrest beside her, tail flicking lazily, eyes watching the door like something might slip through it if he blinked.

"I've been thinking," Ilya said.

Moth perked up a little. "Uh-oh."

"I mean it. If monsters like Pennywise are here—" she paused, feeling the chill of the memory crawl up her spine, "—then someone else has to be. Not just villains. There have to be... good guys too. Right?"

Moth rolled onto his back. "Maybe. I dunno. I used to be good at finding socks under the couch. Now? Not so much."

"I'm serious, Moth."

He flipped back upright, more alert now. "I don't *know* what's out there. I just feel where things... ripple. Where the air bends wrong. Where stories get stuck. That's it."

Ilya nodded slowly. "Then that's where we'll start."

---

They spread a map of the town across the floor—an old tourist flyer from the welcome center. Ilya circled the bakery, the gas station, the Static Zone where Pennywise had appeared.

"Okay," she said, tapping her pen. "This is where the Static pulse seemed strongest."

Moth stepped over the paper, tail dragging across the north edge of town. "There's a shop near here—comic books, right?"

"Yeah. Downtown. 'Legends Ink.'"

"Wouldn't that be a good place to find... you know, heroes?"

Ilya tilted her head. "Or at least people who know how they work."

She glanced down at Rhett's note again. The smile thing still creeped her out. But she didn't feel afraid now—just *restless*. Determined.

"All right," she said. "Let's try the comic shop."

---

Downtown was worse than before.

Windows had gone from cracked to collapsed. Signs flickered without power. A marquee above the movie theater now read:

**ALL SCENES ARE HAPPENING AT ONCE**

They passed by mannequins dressed in wedding gowns, lined up along the sidewalk like they were waiting for something.

Moth kept close to her boot, ears twitching.

Ilya spotted the comic shop up ahead. The neon sign had died, letters half-melted. Just **L_G_N_S** and the soft hum of something that didn't belong.

The door creaked open with a touch.

Inside, the store was dim but intact. The shelves were tilted, posters half-peeled from the walls. A few action figures were scattered across the floor like they'd tried to escape.

But the strangest part?

Voices.

Real ones.

Male. Arguing. Familiar cadence.

Ilya crept forward, her breath shallow.

"...I'm telling you, Dean, that gas station had no one. No clerk. No bodies. Nothing."

"I know what I saw. That guy behind the counter wasn't human. His smile was all teeth."

Ilya froze.

Sam and Dean Winchester.

Moth whispered, "Those are real people?"

She shook her head slowly. "Fictional. But they sound *real*."

"Do we... say hi?"

"Yeah. I think we should."

---

They stepped into view, and both men turned, weapons half-drawn, until Dean squinted.

"You're not one of them," he said warily. "You look... real."

Ilya raised both hands. "We're not here to hurt anyone. I'm Ilya. This is Moth."

Moth lifted a paw politely.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "That cat just waved at me."

"Lot's changed," Ilya said. "But you're not from here, are you?"

Sam relaxed first. "No. We woke up in this place after a hunt and everything was... off. Time loops. Static. Monsters that aren't supposed to exist. We're trying to figure it out."

"I think I know part of what happened," Ilya said. "The worlds are crossing. Fiction bleeding into reality. My boyfriend was taken... rewritten into other stories."

Dean glanced at Sam, then back to her. "And you're looking to get him back."

"I need help. I need an alliance."

Sam nodded. "Then maybe we help each other."

---

Outside, the wind howled in short bursts. The shadows stretched a little longer than they should.

Inside, Ilya stood beside two men born of fiction, a cat that glowed faintly in the dark, and a note from the only real person she had left.

"Where to next?" Moth asked.

Ilya looked down at the map, then up at the horizon.

"Wherever the story is breaking the hardest."