Work Text:
Day 1
You dream of the clown again. The two of you sit in a musty basement, dimly lit by a flickering light bulb. The clown shuffles a deck of crudely made cards with bloodstained gloves. The rules are simple: Pick a card, roll the dice, and see if the dice match the numbers on the card.
Two rounds in, your luck inevitably fails. The clown chuckles, a low sound that fills you with dread. He smashes the light bulb, plunging the room into darkness.
You jolt awake just before he eats you. You blink, taking in your surroundings. The weak morning sun filters in through the blinds. On your nightstand, you can faintly make out the hands of your clock; you’re up ten minutes early.
There’s no point in going back to sleep, so you drag yourself out of bed and get ready for the day. You fix yourself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.
Your new job is only a twenty minute drive. You turn on the radio to fill the silence.
The car's speaker crackles. “A doppelganger killed a family of five—”
You turn it off.
You arrive at your new job sick with nerves. You try to focus on the D.D.D. agent’s instructions, then realize you barely heard a word he said. Thankfully, there are only four people on the list.
An austere, unibrowed man approaches the front desk. According to the list, his name is Roman Stilnsky. Your hands shake as you check his ID number, then the number in the folder, then the ID again. You know you’re taking too long, so you shoot the man a quick smile.
“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You hope your friendliness masks your anxiety.
You let him through and breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this job won’t be so bad after all.
A young man comes in a couple minutes later. He flashes you a toothy grin. He’s Izaack Gauss, as stated in his entry request. The name sounds familiar. You think you’ve seen him on TV, although you could have sworn his eyebrows were thicker.
There’s only one problem.
“I’m sorry, you’re not on today’s list.” You keep your tone apologetic. More likely than not, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this oversight.
To your horror, his face morphs into a monstrous scowl. “Fuck! I didn’t take that into account.”
You jerk back in your seat. Reading about doppels in the papers didn’t do them justice. Red eyes bulge out of his skull. His lips curl in a snarl, showing off his razor sharp teeth. Everything about his body language screams pure malice.
“You’re not easy to fool,” Not-Izaack continues. His voice grates in your ears like gravel. “That makes me want to devour you even more.”
The training video didn’t tell you what to do when your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. Unwittingly, your mind conjures the clown from your nightmares. The glass window between you suddenly feels so fragile.
Quick as a flash, you slam the red button. The metal shutter shields you from the doppelganger’s glare. The emergency siren pierces the building. You can barely hear the D.D.D. agent on the phone. You clap your hands over your ears and cower under your desk.
When it’s over, you stand up, legs trembling like a newborn fawn.
You barely make it to the bathroom sink before you throw up.
Day 26
Albertsky hands you his papers and waits. A hint of annoyance passes through you. After a few weeks, he still couldn’t be bothered to let you know when he went out, and how many work emergencies does a shoemaker really have? You ought to reprimand him at least once—nevermind, he’s on the list after all. You were thinking of Monday.
You know his ID number by heart and don’t bother to check the folders. You let him in and sit back, the chair creaking under your weight. You resist the temptation to close your eyes. It wouldn’t do to sleep on the job. Any moment now, another person would come in. Still, your mind wanders.
The click of Elenois’ heels snaps you back to attention. She greets you politely.
You tilt your head to the side. Everything looks right, but you could have sworn you let her in already. Or are you thinking of yesterday? Better call her apartment, just to be sure.
Selenne answers the phone and confirms her sister’s absence.
In the brief window of respite, you rub your eyes. You haven’t been getting much sleep; lately, your dreams consist of friends sprouting extra arms, or of a doppel breaking through the window and killing you.
“Pull yourself together,” you whisper. You check the list again. Only two more people, and you can go home.
Nacha enters with her eyes and mouth sewn shut. You manage to keep your lunch down.
Day 48
Lois comes in without her mole, and you don’t even blink before sounding the alarm. The infernal wailing becomes background noise as you slump down in your seat.
Closing your eyes, you think of what to make for dinner tonight. You have some leftover lasagna in the fridge, but you also have steak that will go bad in two days. As you weigh your options, the D.D.D agent raises the shutter.
Irritation flares in you when Francis forgets to show his ID, or when Roman leaves his hat at home again . You swore you’d never turn into the stereotypical rude bureaucrat, but your patience wears thinner each day.
The rest of your shift passes by quickly. You go back home to your empty apartment. You end up eating the lasagna, too tired to cook. The pasta tastes like mush, and you have to force yourself to finish it.
You go to sleep, knowing you have to wake up and do it all again.
You dream of the clown for the first time in weeks. He comes to your workplace at the end of your shift, and demands to play another card game.
But this time, you win. A month and a half ago, you would have shriveled underneath his glower. Tonight, you hold his gaze, unwavering.
You don’t know why the victory feels so hollow.