Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One of Rex’s favorite things about taking care of rampaging EVOs was the moment the jet was in position and he could jump out. It was something that never got old or boring; the rush of adrenaline in the moments before he built his Boogie Pack, the freefall, the wind slicking back his hair. Then he could build out his wings, catch the air under them, and fly directly into the fray. 

The fray today was surrounding a large, goopy, slimelike EVO. Rex snorted violently as he closed in on it, pinching his nose at the rank smell that seemed to engulf him. Instantly his eyes watered and he pulled back away from the monster so he could pull down his goggles.

Hovering out of the stink-zone, Rex pushed down the button on the communicator. "This thing stinks! What is that?"

"The slime is some kind of sulfur compound," Holiday's voice came through the receiver, along with the sharp tap-tap-tapping of her nails on her keyboard. "It's also releasing some sort of gas, and it knocked out a couple of soldiers. If you feel lightheaded, move away from it."

"No problem moving away, Doc," Rex held his nose again and breathed in through his mouth. Ugh, he could taste it. "It's getting close I'm worried about."

Six's voice in his ear now. "No blades. It's a splitter."

"Got it," Rex dove back towards the EVO, punching it with one smack hand as he let himself fall. The body gave way under him like jello, but the skin didn't break. He bounced off of it and landed again, wet sludge soaking his jacket. 

Ew, ew, ew, ew… Rex gagged, but he let go of his nose so he could place both hands on the skin, still pointedly breathing through his mouth. He cured it quickly, closing his eyes and realizing too late that this one was going to make him fall the twenty foot height that it used to stand. 

He pulled the cured animal to his chest and landed hard on his back to soften its blow. After all, he still had nanites to take care of his injuries. He opened his eyes, groaning as he sat up with the dazed creature in his arms. 

It looked like an ape. Smaller than Bobo, with long, sharp canines. Rex had never been an animal guy-- most animals hated him, actually-- but he was pretty sure there weren't too many chimps in the southern United States. Outside of zoos, that is, but no zoos had called Providence about any of their animals going EVO. 

Six was suddenly in front of him, holding out a hand to help him up. Rex tucked the chimp under his arm and took his hand, pulling himself to his feet. The chimp hissed angrily.

"Are there chimps in Florida?" Rex asked, wrestling to keep the creature under his arm. "Or… Is this still an EVO?"

"It doesn't look natural," Six agreed, and Rex swallowed uncomfortably. How did the smell get worse all of a sudden? "We should take it to Dr. Holiday. Just in case."

Rex wasn't sure what he'd do if the chimp was still an EVO. He cured it, and he didn't feel anymore active nanites in it. If it wasn't cured, then that was a failure on Rex's part. 

Six was giving him a weird look. Oh, no, he was giving something to his left a weird look. Rex looked at the chimp, which was now chewing at the hem of his jacket.

He jumped and tried to pull it off of his clothes, so it bit down hard on his hand. Six had to get it into a crate on the plane without help.

"It really hurt," Rex grumbled, flexing his fingers under the bandages that Bobo wrapped.

"I bet it did," Bobo was grinning like it was funny, so Rex pouted like it wasn't. "But this is just karma biting you in the a-- butt." 

Rex scowled as Bobo laughed at his lame joke. "How is this karma? I don't bite people!"

"You bit me, like, a week after we met!"

"I did not! That's disgusting!"

"Did you get amnesia again?"

"You're messing with me," Rex got off the table, crossing his arms. He lowered his voice. "Y dolió como carajo." 

"Didn't catch that last bit."

"Nothing!" Rex threw his hands up. "Let's go take a look at the chimp. Hey, maybe it's a girl!" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Bobo wrinkled his nose. "Don't even joke. I can smell that thing from two rooms away."

Rex laughed and closed and opened his bitten hand as he walked, already feeling the pain lessen. Maybe the bite wasn't really all that bad. He wasn't going to admit that to Bobo, though. 

"It's really weird," Holiday was talking to Six as Rex walked in, and he could see the ape muzzled and leashed on the nanite scanning machine. It looked like a sloth now, its head sleepily drooping on its chest. "All its nanites are inactive, but it's definitely not any sort of recorded species. I've never seen anything like it."

"One of a kind, huh?" Rex chimed in, walking over to Six and Holiday. He tucked his hands into his pants pockets. "Like me."

Holiday hid a smile. "Sure."

"Just like you, stink and all," Bobo said, elbowing Rex.

He huffed, then let his body language droop a little. "So… I did cure it?"

"It's not an EVO anymore," she nodded, and Rex relaxed. "I don't know what it is, but you did cure it."

Rex smiled. He could do with that for now.

...Well, for then. Now it was starting to get annoying.

Just three days after the first weird EVO, another one cropped up. When Rex cured it, it turned out to be a huge snake thing. It was easily seven feet long, and it had fins on its sides and its back.

It also bit him.

And now, a week later, Rex was holding what looked like a green lion cub… And it had needles poking through his gloves. He pursed his lips and let out a long, pained whimper as the cub started to thrash in his hands, the spikes digging deeper and deeper into his skin. He stiffened, holding the animal more firmly so he wouldn’t drop it. 

“What’s wrong, Rex?” came Holiday’s voice through the receiver. She probably heard him whine, since his shoulders were hiked up to his ears and pressing the button on the communicator. At least he knew he didn’t need his hands to respond, still holding the cub at arms length.

“We got another weird one - ay,” he squeezed more firmly in an attempt to get it to stop squirming. It growled deep in its throat at him. “This one’s - ay, ow - spiky -” The cub bit his wrist. Rex’s voice hitched in volume. “Three for three on the biting! Ow, ow, ouch ouch ouch…”

Holiday audibly cringed. “Can you use your machines to hold it? I want to get a look.”

“I know you do, Doc,” Rex said, and looked at the cub still with its teeth dug in his sleeve. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and tightened his grip on one leg, crouching down so its hind paws rested on the ground. 

He moved the hand that wasn’t being bitten off of it, building out a Smack Hand. The cub let go of his wrist to yowl and try to back up, but Rex kept a firm grip on its foreleg for the two excruciating seconds it took before he had a large hand very carefully pinning the cub to the ground. With the animal secured, he built out his other hand and tried to figure out the best way to pick it up without accidentally hurting it.

Six ran over, a syringe gun in his hand. That would make it easier, a lot easier. Thank science for tranquilizers. 

The cub growled and hissed, thrashing in its prison of large fingers. Six kneeled beside Rex and reached over, then grimaced and pulled his hand back. “Pinch the skin on the back of its neck,” he instructed, and Rex fumbled to get his hand over the cub while still holding it down.

Its mouth hung open and it growled louder, but it stopped thrashing. Six readied the syringe gun and hesitated again. “Hold its leg.”

Rex held its left foreleg up and Six stuck it with the needle. It yowled and hissed, but Rex kept it still until its eyes drooped and it untensed. “Yeah, the needles don’t feel good, do they?” Rex mumbled, feeling a little sense of schadenfreude at the reaction. And guilt. Mostly guilt. “I’m gonna need to grab new gloves when we get back.”

He lifted the limp body of the cub in his arms and walked with Six back to the jet.

“It’s called a cactus cat,” Holiday said as they walked in, not even looking away from her computer screen to greet Six and Rex.

“Creative,” Six said, walking past both of them to the next room.

“So it’s not a weird one?” Rex asked, putting the unconscious cactus cat down on the medical table. He unbuilt his Smack Hands and pulled off his gloves, wincing as the fabric moved against the needles still embedded in his skin.

“No, it is-- I’ve been looking into these animals more. They’re actual, confirmed sightings of creatures that would have been considered cryptids.”

“Cryptids?”

“Like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. Basically all pseudoscience and hoaxes,” Holiday said, but furrowed her brow. “At least, I thought. But if these are real, what else might be?”

“La Llorona?” Rex scratched his head, wondering how he knew who that was. Sure, amnesia, you can forget my last name. Just please don’t drop the information on the old folktale.  

Holiday threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know! Maybe!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, Rex. I’m just… I’ve been talking to young Earth creationists for the past week.”

Rex put a hand on her shoulder. “Did you meet someone even more stupider than me?” he joked.

She smiled. “You’re not stupid, Rex. Even if you were, these people make Bobo look like Ada Lovelace.”

“It’s a new scientific discovery! Isn’t that exciting?” Rex shook her from side to side by her shoulders. 

“Alright, yes, it’s exciting,” she pulled his hands off her shoulders and went back to looking at the computer. “And I guess I’m learning a lot. About conspiracy theories.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rex looked at her computer monitor. It was open to some sort of forum site, with a banner and theming and everything. The top left of the page had a logo with the words “Weird World”. In the middle there was an image of a mask-- it kinda looked like a skull, but not really. It was just a pure white with empty eyes and a strap around the back to hold it on a face. And at the top right, in the same font as the top left, “Argost Lives!”

The page was open to a thread where someone, Holiday presumably, was asking for identification on the animal that Rex had cured. There was a picture of him holding the cat, and Rex grimaced at how he looked. Not really his good side.

Holiday didn’t have an actual profile picture, only the default image of a silhouetted person. Her username was HoliReb0930, and Rex found that a little bit funny. It was very professional. 

The post was also very short and to-the-point. Subject line, identification. Body: please identify if this animal is a cryptid, thank you. 

The first response to the post was “actually, i think that’s a human” and then the thinking emoji. Rex smirked. 

“What’s Argost?” Rex asked, leaning on Holiday’s chair a little. 

“He was the host of the TV show Weird World who went missing a couple years ago,” she answered, scrolling down the page to the person who actually commented information about the cactus cat. “But it’s heavily debated whether or not he’s actually gone. He disappeared for over six months, but he was still posting podcast episodes. Then he reappeared and aired new television episodes for six months, and then disappeared entirely.” 

“Is this a guy who handles things like that?” Rex threw his thumb back at the cat. “Because I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s dead.”

She ignored the question and clicked on a link in the post. It opened a video in a new tab, and she pressed play and leaned back in her chair.

Rex almost jumped back at the close up shot of the mask from the banner, now with eyes behind the eyeholes. If he were younger, Rex might even be a bit scared of this guy. The man’s hair was silver and white, almost blending into the shade of the mask, and the mask also had pointed teeth that just looked… wrong. 

“Greetings and bienvenue,” Rex could hear Six walking back in with the harness and muzzle for the cat, but he couldn’t stop looking at the screen. "Welcome, children, to V. V. Argost's Weird World. Have you closed the doors? Turned off the lights? Lowered the volume? You wouldn't want mommy and daddy to walk in on you, would you?"

"This episode came out after a mother's magazine ran a smear campaign on him," Holiday said, talking over Argost's introductions. "So he's mocking the accusations of being a bad influence for children."

"You know a lot about this guy's show, huh?"

"Believe me, I know none of this voluntarily."

Rex looked back at the monitor, leaning in with a smile. He loved over-the-top acting, and after getting used to the uncanny valley of Argost’s mask… Well, he was enjoying this show. 

Argost stroked the side of a spike in an iron maiden. “Today, we’re going to talk about a rather succulent creature,” he chuckled. He stepped into the coffin and his servant shut the door on him. The camera angled down to show blood seeping from the cracks to soak the floor.

Rex cringed.

"In the nineteenth century," the voiceover began, fading from the puddle of blood to show a night sky, stars uncovered by light pollution or clouds. "Pioneers and woodsmen of the Southwestern Americas might have told you of a haunting yowl that would be heard at night."

Unlike other nature documentaries that Rex had seen, with music and sound effects, Argost's voice droned as the only sound above the images of rolling dunes of sand. Rex felt oddly homesick, plain sick, and like he was going to either punch the monitor or run away.

He tightened his grip on the back of Dr. Holiday's chair. 

"Some may have claimed to see it. Or they may show you welts and scars from their encounter with it. But it's only an old folktale."

It cut to a sketch of an adult version of what Six was currently using two pairs of oven mitts to put into a harness behind them. Rex was a bit impressed with himself for guessing that the one they had was just a baby. 

Argost's voice spoke over the image. "The cactus cat is a creature not unlike a puma, except for in a very important way. Despite what one may assume is their evolutionary history, full of obligate carnivores, they are herbivores. They feed primarily on the water retained in cacti, and are rarely violent animals when unthreatened and sober."

Another sketch, this time of the creature suckling from a hole scratched in the lower part of a cactus. "After the cactus cat exposes the sap, it supposedly ferments, causing the cat to stumble around drunkenly. In truth, the drunken reaction is due to the cactus's own evolution - chemicals in its sap to make the cat sickly."

Argost appeared again, sitting at a wet bar and shaking a bottle with a skull and crossbones printed on the side. He threw it above his head and caught it with his other hand, then poured the contents quickly into a tall glass. "Animals are known for not caring if something is bad for them, though," he said, then tipped the glass back down his throat.

"This is the most educational video you could find?" Six asked from his spot beside the table with the restrained and drugged cactus kitten on it. Rex shushed him.

"The skin of the cat is leathery and thick, with long claws to poke holes into cactus stems. Their teeth and tongues are just as tough, with their face possibly having the thickest skin on their body to get past the cacti's defensive spines." 

Argost pulled a rolling table over, wearing full surgical garb. On the table lay the stiff body of an adult cactus cat, mouth slightly open and tongue lolling out. Holiday quickly turned off the video. 

"Come on!" Rex complained, trying to reach over her to turn it back on. "We… Don't have enough information yet!"

Holiday gave him an unimpressed look. "I already watched this video, Rex. I know what gives you nightmares, and let's just say the inside of a cactus cat does not look like the inside of a cactus."

Rex intertwined his fingers at his chest. "Can you tell me how it ends?"

She smirked. "He makes a joke like, 'you are what you eat, I guess that's why Munya looks so much like a human,' and then bids everyone adieu. It's nothing special, Rex, it's a nature documentary with a gimmick."

Six walked over, the kitten now secured by a leash strapped to the table. "What I don't understand is if he has a specimen to autopsy, why is it still an unrecorded animal?"

Holiday blew out a breath, leaning her forehead into her palm. "The only answers I got for asking that are conspiracy theorists saying that Jews are controlling the information you get."

Rex watched as Six grimaced and put a hand on the back of Holiday's chair, his own muted form of comfort. 

She seemed to understand that and smiled back at him, tired. "I've had a week. "

"Why would people not want people to know that a spiky herbivore cat exists?" 

"They think it's like a power play thing, and Argost is trying to get the truth out there even though he's 'heavily censored.' Which I'm guessing from this grotesque autopsy scene that he's not." Holiday rubbed her temples. "Anyways, the point is that all three of the animals that you cured were classified as cryptids. I would dismiss that as a coincidence, but… earlier this week, you also cured a coelacanth, a platypus, and an okapi."

"So?" Those were barely fights. A fish, a platypus (he watched Phineas and Ferb ), and a weird deer weren’t exactly uncommon. 

" So, at one point, all of those animals were considered cryptids. The coelacanth was only confirmed to not be extinct in 1997, when the platypus was first recorded scientists thought it was sewn together as a hoax, and Europeans thought that the okapi was a fantasy creature and called it an 'African unicorn'. It's like…" Holiday let out a frustrated sigh, putting her head in her hands. "It's like I'm seeing patterns, but I can't imagine why, and the only people who also see the patterns are idiots who think the nanite event was caused by reptile aliens!"

Rex put a hand on Holiday’s back and rubbed in circles. She took some deep breaths and sighed. "Sorry, you two, I'm just… frustrated."

"Do you want to take a look at the cactus cat?" Six asked, turning her chair slightly.

"You know what," she sighed, "I think I do want to take a look at the cactus cat."

Rex stretched as he walked into Dr. Holiday's lab, glad to have had his first good siesta in he-didn't-know-how-long, but a bit concerned as to why nobody was taking him to go train or poke around with flashlights and nanite scans. 

Holiday and Six were standing over the dining table, squinting over some old-looking loose-leaf papers with squiggles all over them. 

"Que onda, amigos?" Rex asked, walking over to look at the papers.

"Decryption," Six didn't look up, instead underlining a word on his page. He looked at Holiday. "Could 'Kur' be 'the'?"

"Could be," Holiday said, adjusting her glasses and underlining a "KUR" on her page too. "But it wouldn't line up with an alphabetic cipher."

Rex picked up one of the pages and held it up to the light, squinting at it. He turned it on its side. "Maybe it's 'God'? All of the 'Kur's are capitalized like 'Lord' is in the Bible."

"That still wouldn't line up with the alphabet."

"What about the French alphabet?"

"It's the same alphabet, Rex," Six underlined another word. "Take a pen, underline anything that repeats."

Rex groaned inwardly. Math equations were easy. Bad handwriting, though? His mortal enemy.

He took the pen and got to work.

The next cryptid they ran into was extra trouble for them since it seemed like the whole world got it on video. Which sucked, because it really wasn't Rex's best work.

Let's just say that the "Mongolian Death Worm" was taken back to the keep in a very sturdy white crate, and Rex had to have his clothes cut off of him because the worm "spit a corrosive substance so lethal that most victims die instantly," and "it's nothing short of a miracle that he's still with us".

Shout-out to nanites, but also, the screaming really didn't make for a good audio experience. Whenever they showed the footage on the news, no matter whose footage it was, whether it was Six, Bobo, or Holiday in the room, they always muted the TV. So it probably grated on them just as much as it grated on Rex. 

"I have one theory on what might be happening," Holiday was talking to White Knight, seemingly not noticing that she was chewing on a lock of her hair. "It's kind of a stretch, I know, but…"

"Doctor. You will never hear me say this again. But I think we might be in a situation where a stretch is the right answer."

"Right," Holiday sighed, and Rex reached over to try to subtly pull the hair from her mouth. She didn't seem to notice. "The jet that was found buried in the Kerguelen Islands was confirmed to be V. V. Argost's jet. I've been reading over his notes for a couple days… Some of them are written in code, but I think some are just in bad handwriting."

White raised an eyebrow. "So did you find a lead?"

"I hate this cryptic stuff," she said under her breath, then louder, "but I think so."

She took out a stack of papers, scans from Argost’s notes with some attempted translations typed beside them, along with everything that could be salvaged from the computer on board the jet. "In both the English and coded notes, he mentions something called Kur roughly a thousand times," Rex would've thought she was exaggerating if he hadn't underlined that word at least a hundred times during the hour or two he helped Six and Holiday with that. 

"In his digital files, he had photos with the file names Kur stone one, two, etc. They're corrupted, so I can't see what the pictures were, but I assume it's of whatever this Kur thing is." Holiday took out a pen and started writing over a blank space on the top sheet of paper. "I did a bit of research, but there isn't much information on it. The only thing that was consistent across all sources was that whoever has the Kur stone can raise an army of cryptids."

"And all these animals were cryptids," White finished for her. "So you think someone found the Kur stone and is using it to turn cryptids EVO?"

"No," Holiday wrote something down in a handwriting only marginally better than the late Argost's. "If someone was purposefully trying to use it to cause attacks, there would be more cryptids. But I think that if we can find the Kur stone, we can use it to stop the attacks."

White was quiet for a moment. "And do you have any idea where it is?"

"Maybe," Holiday furrowed her brow. "Apparently, a lot of EVOs and cryptids have been seen at the old set of Weird World. Argost might have found it before his disappearance, and protected it so that no one would try to raise an army. But now that it's unattended, cryptids are being drawn to it like a magnet…"

White put his hand on his chin. "So go to the abandoned set, look for the stone, and then when you find it, you leave." He gave Holiday a stern look. "Remember your mission. Don't get distracted by any clues about that missing host's whereabouts."

"Of course," Holiday said, but Rex wasn't so sure if he'd be able to keep it out of his mind.

"Are the animals sighted there aggressive?"

"Most of them. That's why it's been untouched for a while."

"Then you'll take Six and Rex with you." White looked to the side, and Rex knew he was looking at him. Rex gave him a thumbs up. "They should be enough to help with a hunch. If you find any proof of anything, I'll send more soldiers." 

"Right," Holiday didn't seem too upset at the dismissal of her idea. Probably because she didn't really think it sounded credible either. 

"You'll leave tomorrow morning."

The grounds of Weird World were just as intimidating as they looked on TV. The forest was dense, with trees and bushes and mushrooms and stuff littering every square inch of land. Odd colors of algae grew on the thick, black trunks of every tree, and the sky was completely covered by clouds. It was like Six, Holiday, and Rex were stepping right into a Dracula movie. Rex almost thought he’d just start seeing in black and white.

Rex whistled, tilting his head back to look into the canopy of trees. “Have you ever seen trees this big?”

“Yes,” Six answered, locking the jet’s door and turning on its stealth cover. 

“But these are, like, especially big trees, right?”

“Not particularly.”

Holiday snapped her fingers twice. “Communicators in and on at all times, gentlemen. Stay alert.” She waited for them to comply before continuing. “If my theory is correct, then the Kur stone will be somewhere around this area. We’re going to split up and fan out. If either of you find anything, get in contact immediately.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Rex asked, fiddling with the volume on his communicator. “I mean, a stone, I know. But what kinda stone is it?”

“Use your best judgement,” Six answered for her, staring at some far-away spot in the trees. “Strange animals will probably be flocking around it. See if you can find an odd grouping of cryptids.”

“There’s also probably writing on it,” Holiday continued. “Or pictures carved into it. Some of the notes mentioned directions being drawn on the stone.” She paused. “And… Well, orange light was mentioned? Maybe there’s some sort of luminescent coating on it.”

Rex nodded, building his Boogie Pack. He was excited to run the obstacle course that the tree branches above him were challenging him to.

“Rex,” Holiday said. “Six.”

“Yeah, Doc?”

“Be careful.”

Rex smiled and nodded, and he saw Six also give her a curt nod. She smiled at them, and then Rex was dodging branches as he flew up to get a bird’s eye view.

There wasn’t really much to see from the sky, though. What the leaves of the trees didn’t cover was covered by clouds, and Rex realized very quickly that if he wanted to find anything, he’d have to look on the ground. And the ground wasn’t smooth enough for his Rex Ride, so he might as well go without his machines.

This might be more boring than he anticipated.

He landed reluctantly, his wings almost getting caught on a branch coming down. That would’ve hurt a little bit. He blew out a breath and looked at the ground, studying each little detail with the extremely good focus of a boy with ADHD and brain damage.

There were trees all around him, and swampy ground to his sides. The path he stood on was solid, a dustier color than the black muck on his left and right. He tested the ground before taking his steps, not wanting to accidentally get stuck in quicksand or something. 

He hummed to himself, tucked his hands in his pockets, broke a stick off a tree to use to test the ground instead of his foot just in case, picked up a weird-looking rock, put down the weird-looking rock because it wasn’t glowing or surrounded by animals or had anything etched into it or dios mio this is boring.

He wished Bobo had come along. If Bobo was there, he’d feel comfortable being annoying over the communicator. He could imagine it-- Hey guys, after this, we should go get something to eat! We could go out. Somewhere fancy, like Olive Garden. Or we could stay at a hotel and get room service. That would be fun.

A movement caught his eye and Rex knelt on the ground to watch it. He never could understand the difference between a turtle and a tortoise, but it definitely had a shell and was waddling right beside his path. He smiled when it stopped moving and looked up at him, then settled down in the mud. 

He didn’t really think before picking up the turtle, and he immediately regretted it when it bit him right in the thumb. 

Really, it was a wonder Rex hadn’t gotten rabies yet from how many animals had bit him in the past month. He yelped and tried to drop the turtle, but it stayed latched onto his thumb until he lowered it gently into the mud again. 

“Good thing the Kur stone doesn’t have ears,” he mumbled to himself, looking at his thumb. The glove was torn and there was a little bit of blood, but it didn’t look too bad. “You’re fine, Rex. You’ll be all healed up before the day’s even over.”

Actually, talking to himself was a bit less boring than not talking to himself. He kicked a rock (another one that was totally normal and not the Kur stone) along the path, rambling. 

“What’s even the point of the difference between turtles and tortoises, anyways? Toads and frogs too. No offense, Doc Holiday, but I just don’t get scientists. Wet frog and dry frog. Wet turtle and dry turtle. That’s it, that’s the only classification you need.” He kicked the rock into the air, then rushed over to kick it again. “Animals have too many names. Squids and octopuses are basically the same thing too.”

He stretched, leaning backwards and raising his arms up. “¡Y los animales tienen demasiados dientes! ¡Demasiados mordidas!” He kicked the rock into a bush and kept walking without it. “EVOS ya son bastante difíciles. ¿Por qué los animales tienen que ser también?”

He huffed to himself, blew a raspberry, and tapped his foot on the ground as he walked. He should’ve brought headphones - wait, no, he had the communicator. He hated only wearing one headphone at a time.

He hummed to himself, clicking his tongue as he did like a metronome. “Una loba en el armario, tiene ganas de salir--” he punctuated his “ah-woo” with a skip, “deja que se coma el barrio, antes de irte a dormi--”

A loud snap cut into Rex’s performance, and he froze on the spot. Keeping his eyes focused directly in front of him, he planted his feet on the ground. He ignored the low, angry breathing behind him, the warm stink of a very large animal’s breath on his back. He turned around slowly, whether that was to keep the creature or himself calm he wasn’t sure.

Rex’s blood turned to ice as he made eye contact with it. Its teeth were bared, canines easily bigger than his head, and the rest of its body was completely proportionate to them. It made the trees surrounding them look like saplings.

He probably wouldn’t be so intimidated by the EVO if it was in a city, where there were large clear roads and interstates, but he almost felt trapped by it in the forest. It would probably be able to knock him out of the sky if he was trying to dodge the tree branches, and he wouldn’t be able to use wheels to get away in this terrain.

So, flight was off the table. Fight it was, then.

“Ah,” he swallowed, trying to seem confident. “La loba?”

A huge furred hand swiped Rex into a tree trunk, slamming his ear into the bark and letting him fall to the ground. “Ow,” he said simply, gingerly lifting a hand to push the button on his communicator.

He flinched. And pulled busted bits of plastic from his ear. 

He looked back up at the EVO, building his smack hands. His head was swimming as he stood, but he got to his feet and leaped, diving fist-first into la loba’s shoulder. It took the blow hard and fell on its side, Rex grabbing a handful of its fur to stay on it. You can do this, Rex. It’s like a mechanical bull.

He’s never been on a mechanical bull, but that’s fine.

He threw another punch to its side, and la loba twisted around to bite him, just like every other animal he’d seen this month had.

Rex dropped his Smack Hands and built his BFS, slamming it in between its teeth. It growled and shook its head violently, leaving Rex to flail at the end of his own arm like a ragdoll. 

He dropped the BFS, pulling away from la loba with his Boogie Pack. He floated above head, out of reach from it. He pulled down his goggles, unsure of what to do next.

He just needed to cure it. When it was cured, he was sure it’d be smaller, and he could restrain it or make it run away and not get eaten by it. He needed to get it to stay still to cure it. He could knock it out, or get it stuck in--

The EVO jumped and grabbed him out of the air like a fly, and he slammed through a tree in the milliseconds it took for him to hit the ground, hand pinned over his abdomen.

Pain check, Rex. Head, ear, shoulder, thumb, and everywhere else. Everything hurt. That was fine. 

La loba was panting, and Rex considered trying to cure it through the hand on his stomach. But his hands wouldn’t move.

Well. He had a good run. What more appropriate way to die than to be eaten by a huge EVO that he named in his head after a Shakira song?

He shut his eyes, expecting the bite any second now--

Then the weight on his stomach disappeared and he could move again. 

He opened one eye and scrambled onto his knees, his vision blurry and his ears ringing. His shoulder protested his movement, a sharp pang of pain shooting through it as he fumbled and rested his hands on the ground.

Six was there, holding off la loba. He only held one sword, and he was standing with it extended in front of him, and he… Wasn’t Six.

Rex blinked, and the guy who wasn’t Six spoke. “Stand down! You’re in no shape to fight!”

He should agree with that, but a self-destructing part of him made him attempt to stand back up. “No! I’m alright, I--”

He cut himself off with a breathy noise. La loba’s eyes were glowing orange. Somehow, the thing that caught Rex’s attention about that was that they were orange. Orange, like Dr. Holiday said. Glowing orange.

The sword-- no, it was a staff, wasn’t it? The staff that the guy who wasn’t Six was holding glowed the same shade of orange. Glowing orange. The EVO was glowing with it.

The stranger turned, just slightly, just enough for Rex to see his eyes. 

And his eyes were glowing orange too.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he said, giving Rex a dangerous look that he’d seen before from Six. The look that said, stay still. Stay still, don’t get into the fight, stay safe here.

For the first time in what might be ever, Rex shut his mouth and stayed still, just like he was told. 

He wondered if his own eyes were also glowing orange.

Chapter Text

So Zak hadn’t exactly told his parents that he was going out to check on the cryptids. That wasn’t technically against any rules. Mom and Dad said not to explore the grounds alone, and he wasn’t. Fisk was above him, climbing and jumping between trees, keeping an eye on the ground. Komodo was in the bushes, flanking Zak’s side in case of attack.

He liked that bit of his power. That reassurance that his brothers had his back, and the ability to see any other cryptids that were hiding around. He knew who was where, and if he thought he might need to check on someone, he could just call them out. 

There wasn’t usually much to see when he patrolled the grounds, but he kept doing it because of the few times that he was needed. Once, a few fans of Argost were trespassing, and they injured a dum-dum trying to capture it. He had to carry it back to the mansion and help his dad bandage it and nurse it back to health over the course of the week, and that ended up throwing the fish in the lake off their breeding schedule. There were a few times when he had to get cryptids back to the mansion for emergency surgery, whether for a c-section or rebuilding a crushed leg.

Sometimes he just stayed out for a while and watched over nests so the parents could rest easy. Sometimes Komodo scared away the urban explorers who wanted to see the monsters surrounding Weird World. Sometimes Fisk just needed to feed and water Mom’s carnivorous plants, since she couldn’t really take care of them anymore.

It had been three years since they moved in to take care of Weird World, and this was the first time Zak had seen an outsider so deep in the territory.

Zak really didn’t like dealing with the EVO cryptids. If he could even connect with them, they made his skin buzz like something was trying to get out and they gave him brain fog like he’d been hit in the head. But he was nothing if not a man of duty, and even trespassers (which this guy definitely was, considering how deep into Weird World’s yard he was-- how was he even alive?) didn’t deserve to be knocked around like a chew toy by an oversized sasquatch.

The guy was on the ground now, just barely gasping in his breaths, and Zak stepped between the two of them. He unclipped the Claw from his side and held it out, channeling his powers through it and making eye contact with the EVO sasquatch looming over him. 

He held eye contact, gritting his teeth as the EVO’s eyes glowed and the buzzing feeling overtook his body, along with a dull sense of pain. And a sharp sense of pain in his stomach and his gums.

Somehow, his sasquatch had gotten injured. He must have gotten injured before, and when the other guy showed up, he attacked him out of fear. Poor thing…

“Stand down!” He yelled, his words being swept into the wind and carried into the clouds. “You’re in no shape to fight!”

Zak hated nanites. He couldn’t feel his legs; couldn’t step forward. His body was encased in static, crawling bugs, under his skin, inside him --

Hurts, he heard in his mind. Hurts, hurts, loud, teeth, sharp, hurts. 

“No!” Zak lost his grip on the sasquatch, his sasquatch’s thoughts, as the stranger interrupted. He was too loud, he could be heard even over all the buzzing, and it was killing Zak. “I’m alright, I--”

Zak turned and glared at the trespasser, just barely looking at him. Be. Quiet. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

The other guy was silent now, letting Zak climb back into his sasquatch’s mind to see what was wrong. Kur, thought the EVO, and Zak could see his eyes crinkle in pain. Zak?

“You’re okay,” he whispered, too quiet to hear under the static. The incessant buzzing of the nanites. 

Hurts.

“Come here,” Zak could already feel the migraine coming on. Using his powers on EVOs really took it out of him-- too many minds, all working against the one he wanted to help. The sasquatch lowered his head to the ground, gingerly resting his chin on the grass and tree roots.

He took a deep breath. His vision was going black, he needed to disconnect.

He wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if he kept holding on. Would he just get a bad headache? Or would he turn out like Uncle Doyle?

“Stay calm,” he said quickly, not letting go yet. “Stay still. Don’t move.”

His sasquatch closed his eyes. Zak took that as a yes and shut his own, severing their connection. He clipped the Claw to his belt loop, tucking it under his jacket.

Now the empty noise of the trees rustling and the wind howling was deafening, without the ceaseless drone of the nanites under his skin, and it took everything in his power just to not collapse. He stepped forward towards the EVO in front of him.

“Wait,” said the trespasser, but Zak didn’t turn around to look at him. He put a hand on his sasquatch’s nose and rubbed his snout. 

A low growl sounded from his chest, but Zak knew he wouldn’t move. He lifted the side of his lip, wrapping his entire hand around it to pull it up. “Yikes,” he said, looking at the thick, bright orange object wedged between his first and second premolar. “What is that…? Whatever it is, you need it out.”

He put the hand that wasn’t holding up the EVO’s lip on his chin. The trespasser spoke again. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Zak asked, turning around to look down at him. He had spiky hair, his right arm hung at his side awkwardly, and his jacket was torn. He was wearing goggles, which he quickly pulled up to sit atop his head.

“You’re making it sit still,” he said, and Zak could feel Fisk overhead, trying to decide whether to help get rid of the guy.

Stay still, he thought, relaying the message to Fisk and Komodo. This guy might have a camera. We don’t want more tourists.

“My family handles animals,” Zak half-truthed, putting a hand on his sasquatch’s forehead and rubbing circles. “And a lot of EVOs act like animals. You just have to let them know you don’t want to hurt them.” He patted twice and lowered the sasquatch’s lip, wiping his hands off on his cargo shorts. He held out a hand to the trespasser. “Are you lost?”

He took his hand, shakily pulling himself onto his feet. “But how did you get it to stop?” The trespasser’s eyes darted to Zak’s stomach, on the side where he had strapped the Claw.

He saw that, Zak thought to himself. But he might think he imagined it. He reached into his pocket and took out his dog whistle. He barely ever used it, but it made for good excuse fodder and, when he first got it, it was a good way to mess with Fisk. “Dog whistle,” he said, handing it to the guy. “It doesn’t work on all EVOs, but some of them have enhanced hearing-- wait,” he took the whistle back before the guy could blow into it, putting it back into his pocket. “It makes a really high pitched sound. You might upset him again.”

The guy furrowed his eyebrows. “Um. Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought I was for sure dead for a second there.”

“It’s nothing,” Zak said, turning back to his sasquatch. He had no idea how he was going to get that thing out of his teeth. He didn’t have a forcep big enough for that. Maybe if he got a big stick to floss it out…? 

“So, um,” the guy said, coming up beside him. “What’s up?”

“I think it’s a traffic sign stuck in his teeth,” Zak said, looking at the ground for a stick that was both thin and sturdy enough to floss with. “It’s really uncomfortable for him.”

“Oh,” the guy poked his fingers together. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Zak said, picking up one branch and bending it to test its strength. It broke. “I just need something to floss it out with…”

“You should pull it out the way it went in,” he said, walking towards Zak’s sasquatch again. 

“He probably bit down on it.”

“No, it--” the guy paused. “Uh. I mean, I think it was stabbed in through the teeth.”

Zak walked over to look, pulling up the EVO’s lip again. “Why would someone stick a traffic sign between his teeth?”

The guy came in beside him and carefully wrapped his hands around the foreign object. “In my defense, it was attacking me.”

Then he pulled, and the EVO made a heart wrenching noise as he pulled out five feet of a sword. Zak’s jaw dropped.

“What-- huh??” He firmly put a hand on the bridge of his sasquatch’s nose as it let out a whine. “What is that thing??”

The guy didn’t answer him, instead coming to his side and resting his hands on the animal’s face. Zak blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what he was looking at as the guy’s arms lit up with lines of blue light, and the EVO started to shrink.

He was dumbfounded. In front of him was a sasquatch-- a normal, unaffected-by-nanites sasquatch. A sasquatch that, now that it wasn't huge and easily angered, should go back to its home in Washington. 

Zak looked up again at the stranger who just-- he just cured him. He cured him. He snapped his mouth shut.

The stranger grinned. "This one I know! Bigfoot, right?"

Zak snorted and laughed, falling to his knees and touching the cryptid's shoulder. His sasquatch moved his arm sluggishly, like he didn't remember how to move. 

"Hey," Zak said, helping him up, careful not to use his powers. He didn't need the stranger to realize that his eyes glowed, especially not since now he was intrigued , and definitely going to invite him in.

"So, I have a few questions," the guy said, but Zak ignored him.

"Are you still hurting?" He reached up to lift his lip with a thumb, unafraid of being bitten. His teeth looked perfectly fine. He kept his voice soft, knowing that without his powers the sasquatch wouldn't understand a word he said. "That's good."

"My name is Rex."

"I'll get you home soon, okay? I just have to make a few calls," Zak soothingly rubbed his back, watching as he sniffed the air anxiously.

"Like I said, I have some questions--"

"It's not like Van Rook has anything better to do," he snickered.

"Hello! I'm a bit confused here!"

The sasquatch flinched, and Zak stepped between the guy-- Rex, he said-- and his follower. 

Follower? No. Subject-- that's worse. Child? The sasquatch was definitely older than him, though. 

Friend. 

"You're not the only one who's confused," Zak snapped, pointing at Rex. "And I can help him quicker than I can help you."

Zak felt a bit bad for snapping when Rex stepped down, lowering his head and rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Zak bit his cheek and then sighed. "...This might actually take longer than… You need? I don't know what your questions are, but my parents could probably answer them better than I could. My brother can take you to them."

Rex lit up. "Where's your--"

Zak gave him a shit-eating grin as Fisk fell from the trees, landing with a thud right behind the guy. Rex's eyes widened and he turned around slowly, so slowly that Zak would think he thought the animal behind him could only see moving things. 

Fisk was barely holding back a smirk, but Zak was sure Rex wouldn’t be able to read his brother’s face as well as he could. 

“Oh, whoa,” Rex mumbled. He pointed at Fisk, looking a bit disbelieving. “Your brother?”

“He’s adopted,” Zak said, shrugging. Fisk feigned shock. 

Rex lit up at the joke and elbowed Fisk. “Hey, you and me both.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell my parents they adopted me. They’re not ready to know yet.”

For a trespasser, this guy isn’t so bad, Zak thought, watching Fisk and Rex laugh together. Fisk crouched and signaled for Rex to climb onto his back, and Zak smiled when the guy looked almost excited. He kind of hated to see people be scared of Fisk, so to see a stranger get over that instinctual reaction so quickly… 

Maybe he could become friends with Rex.

He jumped onto Fisk’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his stomach. Fisk turned to the bushes and Zak followed his eye line to Komodo.

Right, the sasquatch didn’t technically count as a buddy for exploring the Weird World grounds. Komodo nodded at Fisk and Fisk nodded back, then crouched and leaped straight up, swinging into the trees.

Zak chuckled at the “woo!!” that decreased in volume as Fisk flung himself back to the mansion with Rex in tow. He turned his attention back to his sasquatch, finally able to connect with him without anyone seeing. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said, gently helping the sasquatch to his feet and letting him lean on him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping it right-side-up and pushing “4”.

“Hey, Van Rook? If you’re not in immediate mortal danger, could you come by and fly a cryptid here back to Mount St. Helens?”

Rex wasn’t a stranger to being thrown around or flying or any of that, but there was always an adrenaline rush involved and it wasn’t like adrenaline ever got old. Plus, there was something about holding onto the back of an animal for dear life that really got his blood pumping.

And the brother was just an animal. Rex couldn’t feel a single active nanite in this guy. 

He hooted as they landed, fisting his hands more firmly in the brother's fur. His shoulder ached with the tensing of his muscles. 

The creature yelped and shrugged Rex off his back, scolding him incomprehensibly. 

"Sorry," Rex said, catching his breath. "Didn't mean to, uh, pull your hair…"

The brother sighed and rubbed his chest where Rex had pulled, then turned to his right. "Ta-da!"

Rex followed his line of sight and saw, about fifty feet away, the looming tower that was V. V. Argost's mansion of the macabre. The castle of the creeps. The stronghold of the strange.

He had hoped that Weird World would be less intimidating when in person. After all, there were so many camera tricks that could be used to make it look bigger, scarier, more… horrifying, right?

Rex stared at the mansion in awe. It was like an old European church ate a cave of bats and then read the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe. The sky seemed eternally overcast, the clouds swirling directly above unnaturally. This place seemed almost as bad as Van Kleiss's castle. 

He forced himself to relax. As much as it might seem like he was walking directly into a villain's lair, he had to remind himself what Weird World was. It was just a set for a TV show. V. V. Argost was a man who had a strong sense of style and aesthetic. He wasn't a villain. Rex wasn't walking into anything like Van Kleiss's castle.

He glanced at his companion, who was staring at the mansion, his eyes betraying a nervous energy that he wouldn't have expected from such a big, fearsome-looking animal.

"You live here, right?" The brother jumped, seemingly having forgotten Rex was there. He nodded. "You look anxious."

The brother fidgeted, wringing his hands together. He mumbled something, then took a deep breath and puffed up his chest. He started marching forward to the front door, so Rex tucked his hands into his pockets and followed.

Rex stood behind him while he opened the door, trying to look over his shoulder into the house. The brother raised his hand in a wave, making a noise that almost sounded like, "hi!"

A sigh. "Fiskerton. Where have you two been?"

The brother-- Fiskerton-- started babbling, and Rex craned his neck to look into the room. The foyer was huge, and he guessed that it was meant to be a large, empty area, but the room was full of folding tables and chairs. Each table was covered with machines, notes, trays… There was a sink, an eye wash station, a fire extinguisher, and the entire room was really brought together by the huge chandelier hanging in the middle of the ceiling.

The man who greeted Fiskerton had just looked up from a microscope, and was staring at the incoherent creature with bemusement. He was wearing a peachy orange set of scrubs with a bright white lab coat over it, green rubber gloves, and a pair of large tinted safety goggles. His face was scarred, his right eye was gone and his dark skin was marred with rough patches. Rex wondered what could cause such grievous injuries.

Then his eye twitched and he made eye contact with Rex, surprised. 

"Hi," he cut in, interrupting Fiskerton's explanation. “Um, I’m Rex. Your, uh, son sent me here?” He rocked on his feet for a second, then pointed at his own eye. “Cool scar.”

It was a cool scar. There was a slash down his right eyebrow and eyelid, with a crook that made it look like a lightning strike. Just maybe that wasn’t the best introduction to give someone-- Cool scar? Who just points out someone’s scar? Estúpido-- 

The man snorted out a laugh, smiling kindly as he walked around the table and pulled the lab goggles up to rest on his head. He looked up at Fiskerton. “Zak’s still out, huh. Is Komodo with him?” Fiskerton nodded. The man’s face hardened. “You three should tell us if you’re going out. We wouldn’t stop you as long as you’re together.”

Fiskerton was still for a moment, then he made a little noise and lifted his hand, tapping his fingertips to the side of his head. The man patted the creature on his shoulder and turned again to Rex.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rex. I’m Dr. Solomon Saturday,” he said, looking at Rex with an expression that he couldn’t name. “You can call me Doc.”

Maybe his brow was pinched that way because he was worried about his kid? It was the face that Holiday made when she was worried about her EVO sister. "Your son seems cool," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, he… was doing something with a, uh, bigfoot, I think? I-it was an EVO, but I-- oh, I should've said-- let me start again, I'm--"

"Rex," Doc said, taking off his gloves. Rex couldn't help but notice that his hands and arms were also littered with burns, just like his face. "I know who you are. Let me wash my hands, and then we can talk."

"You know who I am?"

"You're Providence's, uh…" He squinted, obviously trying to pick his words carefully. "You're with Providence. You cure EVOs."

"That's me," Rex said, putting his hands in his pockets again. "Your kid made me think you, uh, didn't have TVs here or something."

Doc turned on the water and lathered his hands with soap. "Zak doesn't watch the news. It stresses him out."

“Oh,” Rex shifted on his feet. The news was stressful, there were always new EVOs cropping up and destroying things, and if you couldn’t do anything about it… That was probably pretty upsetting. 

He stared at Doc’s hands as he dried them. What could have given him so many burns? Did he work with fire often? Maybe he was a firefighter-slash-scientist-guy. That was plausible. Probably. 

He thought he could hear a fireplace going in the other room, but that was probably his imagination. He was just thinking about fire too much.

Zak lit up at the loud caw from the jet and he extended his arms, catching Zon in a hug as she flew out the door. She chittered and purred, her head hooked over his shoulder and her wings blanketed over his arms. 

"I missed you too, girl," he whispered, petting her feathers back gently. 

They had a few silent moments to embrace before Van Rook cleared his throat. "You do this. Every time."

"We miss each other every time, Uncle Leonidas," Zak said, nuzzling his sister's neck gently. 

Van Rook shook his head and sighed. "Don't. You have a cryptid for me to relocate?"

Zak let go of Zon and took his sasquatch by the elbow. "He's the same one from a few months ago. The one who went EVO..."

Van Rook narrowed his eyes. "And now it's back to normal."

"This guy showed up and he was fighting him, but after I calmed him down..." Zak smiled, turning to his sasquatch again. "He just put his hands on him and he wasn't an EVO anymore."

Van Rook looked deep in thought for a moment. "Was it that Providence kid?"

"That what?"

"That 'cure' that Providence parades around on the news," he answered, stepping forward to get a closer look at the sasquatch. "I thought it was all just a little stage play they set up to give people false hope. You know, for their money."

"Oh," Zak rubbed his neck. "I don't... Watch the news?"

"Mm."

"But it was real. No cameras around, and he's cured. I--" Zak cut himself off, swallowing. "I sent him to Mom and Dad with Fisk. Van Rook, what if...?"

Zak and Van Rook made eye contact, but the older man turned away. "We don't get anywhere by 'what-if's."

"You should come back after he's home safe," Zak said, putting a hand on Van Rook's arm. He flinched. "If... If he can..." If he can cure Uncle Doyle. He'd want to see you. And I know you want to see him.

He didn't say any of that, and Van Rook shrugged him off. "I'll see if I have the time."

Zak smiled. That was a yes.

Rex sat at a table that was way too small for this room. This place looked like a basketball court, except instead of the hoops and scoreboard they had more extravagant chandeliers that only lit up the room just enough. He leaned back in the chair, staring up at the lamps and following the patterns of crystals that hung off them. All the windows were tinted, with long curtains draped on them.

From the wear and tear of the floor, Rex guessed there had once been more in here. Maybe more tables? Maybe this room was meant to be like a cafeteria. It was probably where the crew for the TV show had their lunch breaks. Now there was just one table, six chairs, and a small kitchen area at the wall. If Rex didn’t know better, he’d think this room was really ten rooms that never had the walls put up, but the chandeliers were placed in a way that would make that unlikely.

Doc paced the counters, but he didn’t seem like he was actually nervous. He knocked on the wall once, then on a cabinet door twice before opening it. “Do you need anything, Rex? We’ve got plenty to spare. I went shopping yesterday.”

“No, I’m--” he tried to gesture, but winced as he moved his right arm and remembered that he had been shaken around like a chew toy by it. “I’m good,” he said, voice cracking.

He looked up and Doc was looking at him with that weird pinched expression again. “Are you hurt?”

Rex shrugged, only really moving his left shoulder. “It, y’know, doesn’t really hurt that bad. And my nanites help me heal, like, super fast--”

“Can I take a look at it?” Doc kneeled beside his chair. 

Rex’s face felt hot, but oddly enough, his shoulder also felt hot. Either shoulders could blush or he maybe did need a bit of medical assistance. Probably the former, but he shrugged his jacket off anyways, not looking Doc in the eye. He turned so his right arm was facing him, and he hoped he wasn’t wildly sweaty suddenly. 

Doc pulled up his sleeve over his shoulder and gently poked and prodded. “Dislocated,” he said, standing up. “You’ll be fine with a bit of ice.” He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer, taking out an ice pack. “You said your nanites speed up your healing?”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, pulling his sleeve back over his shoulder. “They, um, fast.”

Doc’s worried expression got worse, and Rex took the ice pack and held it to his shoulder, refusing to make eye contact. 

They were both silent for a moment before Doc cleared his throat. “What brings you to,” he almost choked on the words. “Weird World?”

Rex wouldn’t have noticed the way he said Weird World if it wasn’t for his months of studying Six and the way he showed emotions. That was something he would bring up when Holiday and Six showed up: the people who live here probably think Weird World is a dumb name.

The people who live here. No sign of Argost anywhere. Not even posters or memorabilia. Rex pressed the ice more insistently into his shoulder. “Well, it’s like. I cure EVOs, y’know?”

“How do you do that, exactly?” 

“Oh, uh… I just kinda touch them. My nanites do the real work.” He looked at his glove for a moment. “But, what happened, I cured this big slime monster-- and when it went back to normal, it was like, a monkey thing? But it didn’t look like a monkey, um…” 

Rex felt a bit awkward, with how interested in this story Doc seemed to be. Maybe he was just not used to people actually listening to him, but it was making him nervous. If only Six or Holiday were here… “D-Doc Holiday, she said it was called a skunk ape, and it wasn’t actually a confirmed animal, so we were like, ‘whoa! That’s weird,’ y’know?”

Doc smiled and chuckled a little. “So you cured a skunk ape… And I assume you took it back to your Providence zoo?” Now his smile was strained.

“Um,” Rex rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s still quarantined, because there’s no telling what kinda diseases it could carry and how it could affect… Uh, stuff,” he parroted what he overheard about the skunk ape before.

Okay, now his smile was a bit more genuine. “Were you able to sex it?”

“Perdón?”

“The skunk ape’s gender,” Doc clarified. “There’s one virus that usually goes unnoticed with females, but it causes the males a great deal of discomfort.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I don’t really pay that much attention,” Rex leaned on the table, his shoulder feeling better. “Um, but the second one was, like, a big eel. I don’t know what animal it was. Then there was the cactus cat.”

Doc furrowed his brow. “That’s definitely a concerning amount of cryptids going EVO.”

“Doc Holiday thought that it was even weirder, ‘cause I also cured some other animals that were considered cryptids before.”

The man sat across from Rex, his jaw set. “So when you were looking into cryptids, you found the show?”

“Yes!” Rex answered almost too excitedly, just glad that the show was being acknowledged in some way. “And, uh, we read that there might be cryptids or EVOs around the old set, so we came to investigate, and then your son found me.”

Something made him omit the Kur thing. If the staff that Zak had was Kur, then these people might be trying to hide it. He couldn’t trust them just yet.

“So where are the cryptids right now?” Doc asked, that worried look on his face again. 

“The skunk ape and the cactus cat and the eel thing are still in testing,” he tapped his foot nervously. “Don’t worry about them! It’s just like a doctor’s-- vet’s? A vet’s visit.”

No, that just made that worried look even worse. Again. Doc smiled at Rex, but it didn’t really reach his eyes. “Rex. How old are you?”

That was such an unexpected change of subject that Rex didn’t even consider lying. He didn’t think he should lie, either, but it didn’t even cross his mind before he answered. “Fifteen. I mean, around fifteen.”

Mercifully, Doc didn’t ask what he meant by around fifteen. He tapped his fingertip on the table a couple times, and Rex noticed the crackle of the fire again. It was weird how it seemed to keep getting louder. “Okay,” Doc said, leaning on his elbows on the table. “You had some questions to ask me, right?”

He seemed open and honest, but Rex wasn’t really sure he bought it. Six had, no matter how much Rex tried to avoid admitting it to himself, instilled a sense of distrust in him. Doc definitely wasn’t telling the full truth. He was too controlled, too collected, too much like Six when he was dodging a question. 

So what questions would be safe to ask? This guy might know about the Kur thing, and if he did, he probably was part of whatever plan was bringing all these cryptids out of their places. So the thing that he figured was most important was probably off-limits.

Non-Kur-related questions…

“This was the set of the show Weird World , right?” Rex leaned forward, tapping his foot nervously. “What happened to V.V. Argost?”

Doc broke eye contact, letting out a slow breath. “Argost,” he said the name like it was a bad word, like if he said it the devil would appear, like the man killed his parents or something, “had a very popular TV show. But if you look into him, you’ll see he was almost charged with… Many crimes.”

He intertwined his fingers in front of himself on the table and lowered his head. “Animal hoarding, animal abuse, poaching, other… things,” he said almost painfully. Rex could almost feel him holding back more crimes on this list, which was troubling. Why would he only name some crimes? “He was acquitted, because the judge was convinced that the things on his show were faked. If there were animals like that out there, it wasn’t logical to think they have them all in his mansion.”

“He wasn’t tried for any of his crimes, Rex, but V.V. Argost was a bad man,” he said, his voice filling with resolve. “He disappeared three years ago, and my family bought Weird World to rescue the animals. We released the ones who were fit, and now we take care of the rest.”

He was talking with a finality now, the tone of voice that Six used when he wanted others to stop asking questions. But he wasn’t ending the conversation, and he already offered to answer Rex’s questions and wasn’t rescinding that offer, so Rex pushed onward. “Do you know what happened to him?”

Doc’s eye flickered to the left. “No. I don’t know if anyone does.”

Rex knew a little bit about the body language of someone who’s lying. He wasn’t an expert or anything, but he read some articles in the magazines in Dr. Holiday’s lab. Doc wasn’t a bad liar at all, Rex might not have noticed if he didn’t read the same article over and over to the point where he was pretty sure that if he got amnesia again he’d still remember it. 

Doc had been staring intensely at Rex from when he started answering the question up until the moment that he looked away. Before he asked Rex if he had any questions, Rex barely had a view of his face. He kept his hands still on the table, when before he had been pacing and fidgeting and knocking on the walls and cabinets. His lips were pursed now.

Rex was sure he was lying, whether purposefully or by omission. 

The room was silent, and the fireplace-- wait. Rex might as well have turned to stone as he heard footsteps approaching behind him. 

Across the table, Doc’s tense face softened and he smiled. “Did you have a nice nap?”

Rex slowly turned to see the person standing in the doorway, crossing their arms. They were dressed entirely in some sort of hazmat suit, their face completely hidden behind the screen. Their arms and legs were disproportionately large, and it was almost like they were glowing. 

No, they were glowing. They were the fireplace that he was hearing, that’s why it was getting so loud. Rex shrunk back in his chair, unsure whether this was a friend or foe.

“It’s not a nap, love,” the voice that came out made Rex relax. He could hear the smile in her voice, and while the crackling of the fire was louder when she spoke, it was gentle. Warm, even, no pun intended. “Just meditation. You should’ve told me we have a guest.”

“I figured I’d tell you when you came out,” Doc stood up and walked around the table, embracing the suited woman. “This is Rex, the boy from Providence,” he said quickly, like he was only saying it for Rex’s sake. Like this lady knew exactly who he was. “Rex, this is my wife, Dr. Drew Saturday.”

Chapter Text

Rex leaned on the table, looking Doc’s wife up and down. She was projecting some super non-threatening and open body language, like she was trying to make up for the suit obscuring her face. “...Hi,” he said finally, “um, can I ask about the--”

“I went EVO a couple years back,” she crossed the floor and pulled up a chair, sitting across from Rex. Doc sat down in the seat he was in before. “I’m completely made of fire and molten metal.”

Rex blinked. “That’s kinda cool.”

Drew let out a startled laugh and Doc held her hand over the table, chuckling himself. “I’d say it’s hot,” he whispered, raising her gloved hand to his lips and kissing it. 

“Gross,” she laughed, knocking him lightly with her fist on the side of his face that wasn’t as badly burnt.

Oh, Rex thought. That’s how he got the burns. He was hit with a sharp wave of sympathy for the couple. They couldn’t hold hands anymore without a glove between them, they couldn’t hug or kiss or anything. That was sad-- and it seemed like one of the most interesting telenovela plots he’d ever thought of.

“Can I ask you a question, Rex?” Drew asked, her voice somehow becoming more gentle. 

Rex shrugged. “You just did.”

“Doc and I saw you cure the Mongolian Death Worm on the news,” Rex tensed. Her voice was all serious now. He was still embarrassed at how loud he screamed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, adjusting his goggles on top of his head. “The-- I mean, I was, uh. Screaming in victory? No, hold on--”

She reached over and put her hand over his. It was warm. Rex’s face was warm now, too. “It’s okay. I think I understand better than any other living person how terrible Mongolian Death Worm venom is. I just want to know how you’re feeling-- any other normal person would have died from how much was spit on you.”

Rex avoided looking at her, even though there would be no way for him to make eye contact. “It… Hurt really bad, I guess. I don’t remember much, honestly, I just watched what happened on the cameras.” He looked up. “What do you mean you understand how bad it is?”

“It was years ago,” she murmured. “But I got a little bit of the stuff on me. I almost lost my arm.” 

Rex put his other hand over hers, holding her hand with both hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Thanks. Doc was answering some questions for you, right? Do you have any more questions?”

Skirt around mentioning Kur, but ask the right questions. “Do you have any idea why a bunch of cryptids are going EVO? You guys, uh, seem to know a lot about cryptids--”

He was cut off by a clatter, whipping his head around to see Fiskerton standing next to a large plastic vase on the ground. “Oop,” he mumbled, muffled, then picked up the vase and hid behind it.

“Fiskerton,” Drew said firmly, and he peeked out from behind the vase. “What’s in your mouth?”

He walked around the vase and sat with them at the table, and Rex squinted at the bright red thing in his mouth. Drew shook her head, resigned, and held her hand out. Fiskerton dropped the thing in her hand-- a bird with a crest and a black mask over its face.

Rex flinched, but Drew just stroked the ruffled feathers back into place and started inspecting the bird gently. Fiskerton babbled something incomprehensible. “I know, you were very gentle. Zak, can you release--” She looked around. “Where’s Zak?”

Fiskerton pointed to the window, moved his hands in a weird fast way, then pointed at his mouth and bared his teeth.

“Oh. I guess it’s okay if he’s with Komodo.” She sighed. “You three need to tell us when you're going out.”

Van Rook and Zon left with the sasquatch about ten minutes ago, and now Zak was heading back to the mansion. Komodo stalked beside him, still hiding himself in the bushes. 

He was nervous about something, Zak could feel it. Komodo's anxiety was always quiet, tense, and maybe accompanied with a warning hiss. He hid his fear a lot more than Fisk did, masking it with anger more often than not.

Zak thought back on what Van Rook said. Providence was a military organization that kept EVOs from attacking human settlements, but they were still military. Military meant guns, killing, people who liked making choices that would cost a lot of human and animal life. Providence had testing facilities and a zoo of EVOs that were treated like prison inmates. 

He only knew this stuff because he overheard his parents talking about it, though. They would know if the guy he sent their way was Providence, and if they needed to lie… Well, the only reason Zak was any good at it was because of them.

Komodo was still anxious, though, and Zak was pretty sure he knew why. He was an EVO himself, and the mention of Providence made his skin prickle with the ideas of science labs and testing facilities. Komodo had always been scared of laboratories and anyone in a white coat, and Zak had to assume it was because of wherever he had been before Mom and Dad found him stalking around marshes in Florida.

Because obviously he escaped from a lab somewhere. Komodo dragons don't just wind up in Florida with the ability to turn invisible on their own.

There was a rustle above Zak that made him whip his head up. He stared into the trees overhead and caught the eye of a man, crouched on a branch.

Well, he was pretty sure they were making eye contact. The man was wearing opaque sunglasses (it wasn’t even that bright out, come on) so it was hard to tell. He was dressed in a green suit and black tie, looking like a standard man in black with a colorful twist. Maybe he thought the green suit would make him blend in with the trees.

He wasn’t a man in black, obviously. The graymen were the men in black, and if he was a grayman he would be wearing one of those dumb nanite-free spacesuits that Agent Epsilon and Francis wore. So a spy-looking dude shows up right after Providence’s cure boy, that would probably mean--

The man leaped down from his branch, landing crouched behind Zak. The teenager whipped around to keep him in sight and the man stood up, flicking his wrists and dropping swords out of his sleeves with a shing. 

“What are you--” Zak gasped as a wave of his brother’s anxiety-fueled anger crashed over him. Komodo hissed at the stranger, warning him to stay back.

The stranger, the trespasser, ignored his warning and striked, stabbing into Zak’s brother’s back-- or, it would’ve gone into his back, if not for the fact that Komodo going EVO gave him some pretty strong armor-like skin, and not even blades as sharp as those could pierce it.

That didn’t stop Zak’s breath from tearing out of his lungs in a shocked move, his legs turning to lead as this villain attacked his brother. He froze, stricken with dread.

Komodo threw the man off his back and twisted, sinking his teeth into his leg and wrenching it with a crunch. The stranger gasped, then grit his teeth and went still, likely knowing that struggling would only tear more skin.

Or, from the sound of that crunch, maybe he couldn’t even move that leg anymore.

A growl tore from Zak’s throat, and it was all he could do to just tense his hands into tight claws, twisting his wrists up, willing himself not to use his powers in front of this thing who attacked his brother. “Stop!” He shouted, stepping forward and then falling back as he dodged a bunch of darts from the brush.

Five darts. Two bounced off of Komodo’s side. One flew over him. One stuck in the skin above his mouth, and the last one stuck right under his eye. Zak stared, horrified, as Komodo slowly started to go limp.

Tranquilizer darts shouldn’t work that fast. 

The brush rustled as a woman, the woman who shot his brother, pushed the plants out of the way, and she, the woman who shot his Komodo, opened her mouth--

Zak lunged, knocking her down, snarling from the back of his throat. Her eyes were blown wide and she raised the air rifle and aimed it at him. Zak grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head, making her lose her grip on the gun.

“What are you doing?!” The man yelled behind him, his voice cracking with pain. 

The woman was trying to grab the air rifle again. The man was trying to distract him. Zak was seeing red-- He was seeing orange, and he needed to calm down before his eyes started glowing.

His voice was low and rough when he spoke. “Leave my brother alone,” he commanded, deceptively calm. He felt the ground under his feet, the woman’s wrist where he held her down, her stomach where he sat on her. He felt Komodo behind him, mouth slack now, asleep. Not dying. Just asleep. “He’s my brother.”

The woman’s face softened, and she looked genuinely apologetic. “H-he’ll be okay,” she said, looking up at Zak. “I just hit him with fast-acting tranquilizers. He’ll be unconscious for about an hour, but he’ll be fine.”

Zak trembled, trying to keep his breath even. He let go of her wrist, and she reached over to knock the air rifle out of her own reach. He stood up, holding his hand out to help her up.

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, then she trotted to the man’s side. 

Zak followed, twisting his fist at his side and tightening his jaw as he looked at Komodo’s unconscious form, slack jaw still latched onto the man’s bleeding and bent thigh. He kneeled beside them, gently putting his thumb under Komodo’s upper jaw and opening his mouth. The woman gingerly pulled the man’s leg from his mouth, eliciting a muffled grunt of pain from him.

Zak pulled the empty darts from Komodo’s skin, patting away the droplets of blood that erupted from the injection areas. 

“I’m sorry,” the man said, finally, sitting up. “It looked like… It looked like it-- he was stalking you.”

Zak grunted, running a hand over Komodo’s face looking for any more injuries. “He was protecting me,” he said, not bothering to worry about hurting this guy’s feelings with his tone. “A lot of weird animals wander around these grounds.”

“About that,” the woman said, and Zak was getting a headache at the thought of any more Weird World fans trying to talk to him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked before she could say anything, not looking at them.

“That’s classified information,” the man said.

Oh, you want to play that game. “You wanna talk about ‘classified information’? You people are on private property, and I suggest that if you don’t have some sort of search warrant that says you don’t have to answer any questions, you tell me what you’re doing in my family’s land, attacking my brother. ”

Zak looked at them now, challenging them to say anything else. They were silent, the wind in the trees and the sounds of the birds the only noise that met Zak’s ears.

“We didn’t know anyone still lived here,” the woman said slowly. “We read online that this place is abandoned.”

“Maybe if you looked into the public real estate records instead of just the Weird World forums,” Zak grumbled. The woman’s face went red and she put her palm to her forehead.

As angry as Zak wanted to be right now, since the adrenaline was wearing off he could feel his empathy creeping back up into his chest. He could imagine being a regular person, maybe even Providence, and thinking Komodo was dangerous. He could imagine himself not doing all his research before going somewhere, especially since when Dad bought Weird World it was kept pretty hush-hush. Just like everything they do.

“Look,” he finally said. “I can probably help you out, but I gotta know what you need, alright? What are you doing here?”

Another hesitating silence. “My name is Dr. Holiday,” the woman said, then gestured to the man. “This is Agent Six. We’re with Providence.”

Zak nodded. “I guessed that much. Ran into one of you people earlier.”

“Rex?” The woman asked, and Zak nodded again. “Where is he? He isn’t answering his com link.”

“I sent him to the mansion,” he said, throwing his thumb back toward it. “I was busy with something, and he had a lot of questions, so I had him go with my other brother to talk with my parents.”

“Is he okay?” The man asked.

“He was getting beat up by an EVO before I stepped in, but he seemed fine. My parents are doctors, so if he was hurt, he’ll be alright.” Zak tapped his fingers on Komodo’s back. “Well, they’re vets. But still.”

“Speaking of doctors,” he continued, pointing at Agent Six. “We should get you to one. That bite’s pretty ugly.”

“I’ll hold up,” he said stubbornly, and Zak rolled his eyes and walked over to him.

“Yeah, you’ll hold up, ‘til it gets infected and you start running a deadly fever. Got your tetanus vaccine?”

“Yes.”

“There’s about ten more shots you need before you can take a bite like that in stride,” Zak sat next to him and peeled the ripped fabric away from his leg, the green pants mixed with the blood making a dark gray on his clothes. “And you’re real lucky he doesn’t have any venom.”

Dr. Holiday sat at Agent Six’s other side, watching Zak closely as he patted down his cargo shorts and pulled out his pocket first-aid-kit. Inside, he had antiseptic wipes, antibiotic cream, wrap bandages, betadine, aspirin, ibuprofen… Small scissors. He took out the scissors and tucked the blade under the rip in his slacks--

Agent Six grabbed his wrist with a white-knuckle grip, shaking. “What are you doing?”

“Cutting the fabric off your leg,” Zak answered, not looking up from the bite. “Your pants are already ruined, and unless you want to strip down to your underwear, I have to cut it so I can bandage you up.”

Dr. Holiday put a hand over Agent Six’s, and he slowly untensed and let go of Zak’s wrist, letting him start using the scissors. Snip, snip, snip, he cut the slacks down, peeling the fabric down to his knee and folding it over. 

Komodo’s teeth got bigger, longer, when he went EVO, even proportionally to his larger body. The bite was deep and bloody, and Zak worried for a moment that he might’ve busted an artery. Zak prodded in his other pocket and took out his small flashlight, shining it into the wound. It was bleeding, but it wasn’t flooding with blood, which was a good sign.

Zak leaned back and rolled up his sleeves, then took the alcohol from his first-aid-kit. He poured some in his palm and rubbed it into his hands. “Hope you don’t mind, I don’t have gloves.”

“I’ve been treated by worse doctors,” Agent Six grumbled, then his leg twitched sharply and he groaned. Zak narrowed his eyes and took the scissors again, cutting higher up toward his hip.

The man flinched as Zak’s fingers ghosted over his pelvis. Zak hummed. “Can you move this leg? How’s it feel?”

“Bad,” Agent Six snapped.

“I’ll bet,” Zak reached over to the first aid kit to grab an antiseptic wipe package. “It’s dislocated. At least your femur ain’t broken.”

“A dislocated hip?” Dr. Holiday asked, offering her hand to the man so he could hold it. “How can you tell?”

“His leg’s twisted,” Zak said, wiping the bite quickly. “You can see the top of his femur through his skin there. Do you have any more of those tranquilizer darts?”

“What?” Zak grabbed gauze and applied pressure to the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow a bit more while he grabbed another wipe. "Just one, but--”

“What’s inside those darts?”

“It’s a ketamine-based mixture. It’s mixed with an agent that makes it work faster--”

“Perfect,” Zak wiped down the bite again, then covered it with clean gauze. “Hold this here,” he instructed Dr. Holiday, then reached over to get the wrap bandages from the kit. He started wrapping the man’s thigh. “How much is in each dart?”

“My body’s built up a resistance to ketamine,” Agent Six said before Dr. Holiday could talk, and she looked at him with something akin to shock or anger.

“Hold on, you’re not saying-- You can’t fix a dislocated hip out here! You said your parents are doctors, can’t we get him to them?”

“It’d be uncomfortable,” Zak said, making sure he wasn’t wrapping the bandages too tightly. “He can’t walk, and we’ve got a wheelbarrow near here but I figured we’d use that for my brother.” He rubbed a hand over the wrap. “Besides, I’ve done this before.”

A little white lie. He used his powers to keep a bipedal ape from panicking when Mom and Dad reduced its dislocated hip. But Zak had paid attention, and he knew what he needed to do to pop the hip back into place. 

“It’s fine,” Agent Six said, straightening his arms and laying flat on his back. 

“You just want the tranquilizer…”

“It hurts.”

“It’ll be fine,” Zak said, putting on his soothing-an-animal voice. “We’ll have to haul him back in the wheelbarrow with my brother anyways.”

The doctor gave him a nervous look, but reached in her pocket and took out a dart, handing it to Zak. 

He smiled and opened another antiseptic wipe, wiping the needle down before he stuck it in the skin above the bandages. Agent Six grunted and relaxed significantly, laying back on the ground. 

Zak put the dart in his pocket and stood over the man. “Come ‘round this side,” he told Dr. Holiday. “I need you to push down right there,” he gestured to Agent Six’s lower stomach and held the man’s leg by his knee. She put both her hands over his pelvis and pushed, and Zak pulled his leg upwards until--

Agent Six grunted again as it popped into place, letting out a low groan as Zak straightened his leg to check the lengths. “Good,” he said. “We’ll get you some ice back at the mansion.”

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Holiday asked, leaning over him cupping his cheek in her hand.

He smiled at her, looking absent. “Yeah.”

Zak walked around the area, picking up the tranquilizer darts that were scattered about. He didn’t want any of the animals that lived around here to hurt themselves on the needles. The one that flew over Komodo, the two that bounced off him, and the two that were still stuck in his face. He tucked them all into his pocket to dispose of at the mansion.

“Dr. Holiday,” he said, looking back over at her as she was squeezing Agent Six’s hand. “Help me with the wheelbarrow?”

“Of course,” she said, pulling away awkwardly. 

“I’ll bring it over,” he started walking toward it, still looking at her. “I just need your help getting them in it.”

“Right,” she pulled at a lock of her hair and fidgeted nervously. 

“The path is mostly flat,” he called back as he walked out, clearing an area for the wheelbarrow to be walked through on the way to the path. “There aren’t any steep hills to push it up or down. It shouldn’t be too hard, especially since there’s two of us.”

“You said you sent Rex to the mansion already?” She called.

“Yeah,” Zak kicked some sticks out of the path and froze. The wheelbarrow was where they left it, but laying in a ray of the sun on it was a large doglike EVO with bright orange scales and hair. He was asleep, but there was no way for Zak to get the wheelbarrow away without waking him.

His eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Uncle Doyle,” he murmured, crossing the path over to him. Doyle wasn’t cognizant like Mom or Komodo were, but he usually reflected the others around him’s emotions. If Zak stayed calm, then he could probably coax him to move-- heck, maybe he could get him to pull the wheelbarrow for them. That would be a lot easier.

Doyle cooed as he woke, rolling over and pressing his face into the floor of the wheelbarrow. Zak pet his head gently. “Can you help me out, Uncle Doyle? I need you to help with the wheelbarrow.”

Zak knew he didn’t understand a word he said. He couldn’t connect with Doyle, since Doyle wasn’t a cryptid, and he couldn’t understand words anymore either. He understood intention, though, and Zak grinned as he rolled off the wheelbarrow and stared at him through half-lidded eyes. 

“Thanks, I owe you one,” Zak said, pulling the wheelbarrow backwards into the path. Doyle followed slowly, curiously, and Zak let him. “Don’t panic. My Uncle Doyle’s here and he can smell fear.”

Dr. Holiday looked up, and she looked sad as Doyle stepped through the trees. “How much of your family has… Gone EVO?” She asked gingerly.

“Just these two and Mom,” Zak said, pulling the wheelbarrow around and over to Komodo. “I’m fine. Uncle Doyle’s the only one who… You know.”

Zak knelt beside Komodo and started trying to lift him, realizing he didn’t entirely think this through. “He was always pretty heavy,” he said, already losing breath a bit. “But he’s huge now. Geez.”

Doyle made a noise that sounded a bit like a maraca, staring at Zak. “Be my guest,” he said, backing away and bowing. Doyle bent over Komodo and picked him up in his mouth, slowly lifting him and placing him in the wheelbarrow. 

Zak smiled and reached over to pet the bridge of Doyle’s nose. “Thanks.”

The EVO turned and looked at Agent Six, and Dr. Holiday held a hand up. “I can do this one,” she said, wrapping an arm around the man’s waist and putting his arm over her shoulders. She limped him over to the wheelbarrow, then looked back at Doyle, who was staring expectantly. “He’s… Very eager to please.”

“He’s just bored,” Zak said, petting him again. “Hey, Uncle Doyle, wanna help us get back to the mansion?”

Doyle looked at the wheelbarrow, then back at Zak, and tilted his head. That was a yes if he’d ever seen one. Zak smiled. “Hey, doctor, you got any rope?”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask. “I have a grappling gun.” Zak held out his hand and she took it from her holster, handing it to him.

“Ooh, fancy,” Zak said, pulling the flexible wire out of the gun. “Sturdy, but flexible. Perfect.” He wrapped it around Doyle’s stomach, tied it at his side, and pulled it around his chest. With the rope secure, he tied each side to the wheelbarrow’s handles, making Doyle look a bit like the world’s ugliest draft horse.

“He’s very calm,” Dr. Holiday said, disbelieving. Doyle laid on the ground and Zak climbed onto his back, patting his neck gently. 

“He’s good at reading other people’s emotions. We’re both calm, and those two are high,” Zak gestured to Komodo and Agent Six in the wheelbarrow. “You should get in there too. I’m gonna see if he’ll walk for me.”

She looked between the wheelbarrow and Zak for a moment before climbing in, laying back against Komodo’s stomach beside Agent Six. Zak patted Doyle’s side. “Hey.” Doyle’s ears perked up. “Race you back to the mansion?”

Doyle stood, crouched, and started running. A laugh tore from Zak’s chest as he clung to the ropes wrapped around his uncle. And Mom and Dad called flying around in the Griffin a joyride.

They were at the back door within minutes, and Doyle stopped at the door. He knew that it was difficult for him to get in and out, and he didn’t like the interior of the mansion-- Zak knew he escaped it twice, and he wasn’t as desensitized as Mom and Dad were now. None of them liked living in Weird World, but they needed to take care of the cryptids.

Zak slid off his back and started to untie the ropes. “Thanks. We’ll take it from here, alright?” Doyle rattled again. “I know. You’re the best uncle ever.”

Dad opened the door. “Zak, what happened?” He asked, rushing out to look at the wheelbarrow of guests. 

Before he could say anything else, Zak pulled the darts out of his pocket and put them in Dad’s hand. “Tranquilizer darts,” he said, then grabbed the grappling gun and snapped the rope back into it, “grappler,” he leaned over the wheelbarrow and grabbed Agent Six’s shoulder, wrestling away each sword from his left and right sleeves. “Swords. Anything else?”

Dr. Holiday looked offended, and Agent Six (he wasn’t lying about his body being resistant to ketamine, Komodo was still out and he was more than twice this guy’s size) grit his teeth. “We expected t’ run into dangerous animals,” he slurred, glaring at his swords in Zak’s hands.

“This is a wildlife preserve,” Dad said, taking the swords from Zak. “And it’s private property. Our house, our rules, and our first rule is no weapons. ”

Dad held eye contact with Dr. Holiday for a few long moments, then she pulled a gun-like object from her side and handed it to him. “Dr. Holiday,” she muttered. “And Agent Six. What’s your name.”

“Dr. Saturday,” Dad said, just as cold as her. “And my sons Zak and Komodo, if he didn’t already say.”

“The man’s injured,” Zak said, holding the door open for Dad to put away the weapons. “He attacked Komodo.”

Dr. Holiday hopped out of the wheelbarrow, looking at the large lizard EVO as she did. “Komodo’s an odd name.” She narrowed her eyes at Zak. “Is there a story behind that?”

Zak raised an eyebrow. “He’s a komodo dragon. It’s a bit unoriginal, but Mom and Dad didn’t really know at first that they’d be adopting him and by the time they realized, it kinda st--”

“You said,” Six grumbled in a gravelly voice, “this is your brother.”

“He is my brother,” he said. Great, this talk again . Zak was used to this by now-- Blah blah blah how can a komodo dragon and a big creepy cat-ape be your brothers, how can a pterosaur be your sister, how’s that supposed to work, whatever. People understood adoption up until it came to sentient creatures who couldn’t speak English.

If only they knew Zak was a cryptid, too. Ha.

“Your brother’s a komodo dragon,” Dr. Holiday said flatly. “So, he’s… A pet?”

Zak rolled his eyes, but before he could answer, Dad was back without the weapons. “Is the talking chimp on the news just a pet, Dr. Holiday?”  He challenged her. “He’s an animal, isn’t he?”

Fisk was right behind Dad, and he snapped his fingers with an oooh! Whatever rebuttal Dr. Holiday might have was definitely cut off when she saw him, and Zak stifled a laugh at the look on her face.

“Fiskerton, you go around to the other side,” Dad said, walking around the wheelbarrow to Komodo’s tail. “Zak, can you move, uh…” He looked at Agent Six for a moment, “him?”

“Yeah,” Zak jumped up on the wall of the wheelbarrow, crouching over the man reclined on Komodo’s stomach. “Put your arm around me,” he told him, wrapping his hand around Agent Six’s wrist--

The man violently shrugged him off, slapping his hand away with a glare that was only a little bit muted by the opaque sunglasses. Zak met his gaze with a furrowed brow, waiting for him to relax before he touched him again. He didn’t relax, though, only held his gaze for a few tense moments.

Maybe this would be easier if I could use my powers on people, too. Zak grinded his teeth in the back of his mouth as the thought came to him, but he tried not to show the emotion in his eyes. He didn’t move-- I’m already treating him like a scared animal-- if only he was a scared animal, then I could just control-- not control, I don’t control, I’m not--

“I’ll do it,” came the voice behind Zak, and Agent Six broke eye contact. Zak turned around, feeling cold and nauseous, and he stumbled off the wheelbarrow to let Rex hop on. He’d help Dad and Fisk carry Komodo, and he’d tuck his thoughts back into his pockets to deal with later.

Zak reached out and took Fisk’s wrist, and his brother cooed and held his hand, ever understanding.

Rex grunted with effort as he lifted Agent Six into his arms, and Zak could hear him mutter under his breath, “You scared him.”

Let them think that. Kur, the Lord of the cryptids, afraid of some human man--

Zak squeezed Fisk’s hand in a vice grip, taking deep breaths. Dad was saying something. Fisk squeezed his hand back and quietly murmured, go inside.

“I’ll set up the cots,” Zak heard himself say, pulling away from Fisk and walking, floating, back to the door. 

The entrance to Weird World hung open like the maw of a pitcher plant.

Chapter Text

This is exactly what Rex imagined the worst case scenario would be. He was pretty sure he had a dream like this once, actually-- except instead of the freaky animal experts it was Noah’s parents, and they were glaring at him for some reason, and then he tried to ask Noah why he was also angry, and then the dream went the direction most of his dreams went, which was silhouettes telling him to talk to nanites and stuff. Basic teenage boy dreams, probably. 

He tapped his foot nervously, hands tucked in his pockets. That dream wasn’t as bad as this, actually. At least he could tell how dream-Noah’s-family felt.

The mansion had an entire hospital room. They had all the stuff Holiday had and more: syringes and tables with leashes and cabinets full of medicine and bandages and cleaning supplies. He itched to nose around, to see just how much stuff the Saturdays had, but with their change in behavior he wasn’t sure if he should. 

Drew was in a little corner of the room, looking over her EVO son. His name was Komodo and Holiday shot him with the tranq darts, so now all the Saturdays were mad at them. He was pretty sure that was the reason, anyway. They hadn’t really said anything to Rex since Six and Holiday showed up. 

Really, they hadn’t said anything at all. They were very focused on what they were doing.

The Docs were hovering over Six. Rex was half-sure if Holiday wasn’t in eyesight, Six would snap and slit Doc’s throat.

Rex focused on a crack in the smooth, stone floor. He rocked on his feet lightly, trying not to be too disruptive. He felt restless, and the room felt stuffy, and he just wanted something to pay attention to. He followed the crack in the floor as it widened, separated into branches of broken stone, and-- Ooh, a weird looking bug. 

One of Rex’s favorite things to do when bored was stare at bugs. From a distance, of course, because if he got too close he’d get bitten or stung. It was marginally more fun than staring at a crack in a rock.

The bug kinda looked like a caterpillar, maybe a centipede or millipede (what’s the difference again?), and it scuttered over the crack in the floor. It walked over the crack, and as it did, the ground seemed to knit back together underneath it.

Rex blinked, staring at the place where the crack was, as the worm scuttled away again. 

That was either weird or he just didn’t know very much about caterpedes. 

“Your kid said something about him needing a lot of vaccinations,” Holiday finally, finally spoke, and Rex planted himself a perfect ten feet away to listen to the Docs talk. “In case of infection, that is. Because it’s an animal bite.”

Doc hummed, his brow furrowed tensely. “Komodo’s ability to produce venom wasn’t restored by his going EVO,” he said. “Compared to a wild animal, he’s much less likely to cause an infection. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t keep this wound clean and covered, but you won’t have anything to worry about if you’re smart about it.”

Rex chanced a look at Six’s leg, which was now covered in cleaner-looking bandages than he showed up in. Doc finished wrapping it up, ripping the bandage and flattening it to his leg. He rubbed the bandage in place, adhering it to itself. "It shouldn't bleed through before tomorrow morning. If you shower, try to avoid getting the area wet," he said, then slapped the leg and turned to Holiday. Six made a face like he tasted something sour. 

Holiday and Doc held eye contact and Rex could feel the tension in the air. He bit his tongue-- he wasn't sure why Doc was angry, but Holiday had a protective streak for Six. He guessed she didn't like that this guy's son bit him.

“Dr. Holiday,” Doc finally said, folding his hands under his chin. “Rex was telling me that you had questions for me.”

“I suppose I do,” she replied, sitting down at the foot of Six’s hospital bed.

“I’ve already explained a couple things to Rex,” Doc straightened his coat, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “V. V. Argost is gone, and we don’t know what happened to him. We bought Weird World after his disappearance, released the animals that were healthy enough to be released, and we take care of the ones who can’t fend for themselves.”

Holiday pushed her glasses up her nose, closing her eyes for a second. “You say you bought Weird World. Did you buy the rights to the TV show? Or just the set?”

Rex wondered if this is what people meant when they said eyes were the windows to the soul. Something crossed Doc’s face, some shadow, just a flicker of something dark. He looked down and closed his eyes.

“This is Weird World,” he said calmly, stilling himself in the same way he did before. “The grounds and the mansion are Weird World. Argost always referred to it as such. But I guess the answer is that we bought the set, and the TV show,” his voice hardened, “is gone. ”

“I read online that Argost disappeared before,” Holiday pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s when the… ‘Argost lives’ meme started. How do you know he won’t show up again if you don’t know where he is?”

“We don’t,” Doc said calmly. “But even if he does come back, he’s not here now. The animals need to be cared for.”

“What’ll you do if he does come out of hiding?”

“Fight,” Doc glanced to the side. “In court.”

Rex was getting the feeling that Holiday might also be nervous about bringing up the Kur stone to Doc. She was definitely avoiding asking the question, focusing more on the Argost stuff. The problem was, Rex was pretty sure they didn’t know much about Argost… But he would bet they knew plenty about the Kur stone.

“Dr. Holiday,” Doc spoke after a short silence, addressing her extremely respectfully. “I don’t think your companion should travel right now. He’ll need to stay in a reclining position with his leg elevated until the blood flow stops completely. You three are welcome to stay overnight.”

Rex was almost tempted to think that the way he was speaking was supposed to be a joke, with the way he regarded Holiday, but he seemed earnest. Holiday was taken aback too. She opened and closed her mouth awkwardly before finally just asking, “Are you sure?”

“We have plenty of rooms. Too many, if you ask me, but I didn’t build the place. We definitely have three free guest rooms--”

“We’ll stay in one room,” Six rasped, shifting in the bed. 

Doc blinked, bemused, and furrowed his brow. “The largest room we have only has two beds. We could move the cot in there--”

“Two beds is fine,” Six sat up and stared at Doc, daring him to say something. Rex glanced at Holiday, and her face was pink. She looked back at Rex.

Doc almost said something else, but Drew called him over and he left the Providence team alone.

“I don’t trust them,” Six grumbled when he was out of earshot. “They’re hiding something.”

“You always think someone’s hiding something,” Rex said, exasperated, falling dramatically to his knees beside Six’s cot, his chin resting on the mattress. “Name one time you’ve trusted anyone.”

Holiday interrupted. “We do need more than two beds. You can’t sleep in the same bed as me if you need to keep that leg elevated.”

“I thought I’d be in the same bed as Six. ‘Cause we’re both men--”

“We’ll be sleeping in shifts.” Six pushed his sunglasses up, covering his cheeks, but Rex saw the way his ears flushed. “In case they try to get the jump on us.”

Rex raised an eyebrow. Sure, these guys seemed a bit skittish, but that didn’t mean they wanted to attack them, right? Six didn’t like answering people’s questions either-- Bad example, but still. “If they wanted to get the jump on us, wouldn’t they do it already? I mean… We’re kind of outnumbered.”

Six tensed, digging his fingertips into his thigh. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Rex could never really get in his partner’s head, but he’d like to think he knew him pretty well by now-- he knew Six since he could remember, after all. If he knew anything about the man, it was that he was paranoid, protective, and he preferred problems that could be solved with violence. The three P’s.

“We can keep watch overnight if it makes you feel better,” Holiday said, reaching over and pulling his hand away from digging at the bandages. “On one condition. Rex and I will be the ones keeping watch. You are going to rest.”

Rex smiled and stretched his arm over them, putting his hand over their hands like a team huddle. “I can take the first watch!” He didn’t get many chances to stay up late when there wasn’t a big EVO attacking people. Even when he did, he usually snuck out with Bobo or Noah, he didn’t get many chances to just sit around and enjoy the night.

Very rarely, he liked being alone with his thoughts.

Holiday chuckled and lifted her hand slightly, and Rex raised his hand high, quietly letting out a cheer. Team huddle disbanded.

“I don’t need to rest,” Six said, but there wasn’t any fight in it, and Rex was sure Holiday would convince him that he did, in fact, need to rest. He couldn’t listen to them for much longer, though, because he saw another one of those weird bugs and it completely distracted him. 

He wandered over to the wall where it was crawling, deciding to get a closer look. He didn't see any freaky mouth parts or anything on it, so hopefully it wouldn't bite him.

Rex never saw a spider stringing a web before, but he imagined that it was a much slower process than this bug filling the tiny crack in the wall. When he got close, he could see that something was coming out of the bug's mouth (or butt-- no me digas) and sticking to the wall, but it faded perfectly into the crack like it was never there.

Maybe the entire room was made of bug goo. Asqueroso. 

“ No, ” Rex glanced over when he heard Drew’s voice. Zak was with her and Komodo now, looking frustrated with a hand on his brother’s neck. Rex strained to hear their hushed conversation.

“It couldn’t hurt anything to ask,” Zak whispered. 

“He would get hurt,” Drew put a hand on her son’s shoulder and he tensed slightly before relaxing. “I don’t want him to feel obligated to do anything, Zak. He’s…” She trailed off.

“What about Uncle Doyle, then?” Zak challenged, his hands balling into fists. “He’s not made of fire-- curing him wouldn’t hurt or anything, and-- Mom, he’s hurting.” Zak looked at her pleadingly.

Drew lowered her voice, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I know, baby, but… He’s in a bad situation right now, and we don’t want--”

“Are you guys talking about me?” Rex interjected, and everyone in the room’s heads snapped to look at him. For a moment, he was nervous that they were talking about someone else who could cure EVOs.

“Yes!” Zak stood up, ignoring his mom reaching out to stop him. “We were wondering if you could cure an EVO--”

“Zak,” Drew warned, then sighed. “You don’t have to do anything, Rex.”

“I don’t mind!” Rex bounced on his toes. This might be a good chance to get on the Saturdays’ good side, and maybe they’d tell Providence about Kur if they just trusted them more. “I love curing EVOs!”

“See, Mom, he loves curing EVOs.”

“Zak.”

“Where is it? I can do my best,” he caught himself looking at Holiday and Six for permission. “I’m very good at what I do.”

Holiday raised an eyebrow, but took out her handheld-- probably to check his biometrics, make sure he wasn’t at risk of overloading-- and she smiled. “Well, I don’t see why not.”

“Awesome!” Rex looked over at Zak as they both cheered at the same time. Zak grinned and held his hand up for Rex to grab.

“I’ll go with you,” Doc and Holiday said at the same time, making them look at each other awkwardly.

There was a long pause. “I’ll…” Drew started hesitantly. “I’m going to stay here.”

“I can stay,” Doc amended quickly, walking over to her and putting a hand around her shoulder. “He’s your brother. You should be there.”

She shook her head. “Doc, I… You’re levelheaded. I’m not.”

“He’s your brother,” Doc said again, taking her shoulders in his hands. 

“That’s why I can’t be there. He’s going to be upset, and I…” She trailed off, then whispered something in Doc’s ear that made him frown.

“...Alright,” he said softly, then pressed a kiss to the top of her mask. “I’ll keep you updated if he’s far away from the mansion, alright?” She nodded.

Rex felt a bit like he was trespassing in a very tender moment, but he interjected anyway, feeling like this was a very important bit of information. “You might want to bring some pants. Or a blanket or something. Y’know, to cover him up.” Awkward pause. “He’ll be naked.”

Drew snorted. “Thank you, Rex.”

Doc picked up a sheet from one of the cots, folding it over his arm. He smiled warmly at Rex-- warmly enough that Rex felt his own face warm up. “Thank you, Rex.”

“De nada,” he whispered, hunching his shoulders shyly.

Zak walked beside Rex while Doc led the way, Holiday taking up the rear. Rex found Zak walking next to him a lot more comforting than he wanted to let on. Maybe the little hospital room was too stuffy and that’s why they got all cold to him, so now outside they felt more friendly. That made sense, right? Yeah, that made sense.

Zak’s hands were shoved into his jacket pockets and he was hunched over a bit. He clicked his tongue and turned to Rex, looking right at him for the first time since they started walking about fifteen minutes ago. “So, Providence, huh?”

“Huh?” Rex raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. What about ‘em?”

“You work for them, I mean. What’s it, like… Like?” Zak closed one eye, tensing a bit. 

Rex was never good at describing things that were commonplace for him but weird for other people. “Well, it’s, uh… I got a room with a TV in it, like, a real one now. It’s pretty cool.”

“A real TV?”

“No-- I mean, yes, it is a real TV. I meant my room. My old room was like, nineteen square feet?” Rex paused as Zak rubbed the side of his head. “Are you okay?”

“I get stress migraines,” Zak assured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My painkillers should kick in any minute.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Rex rubbed the back of his neck. “You live in a mansion. How’s that like?”

Zak snorted in disbelief. “It’s…” He paused, looking up at the trees overhead. “It’s pretty big,” he said vaguely. “Honestly, it’s way too opulent.”

“Yeah! Oh man, I didn’t want to be rude, but-- your house is way too fancy-- your kitchen has, like, a hundred chandeliers--”

“No, no, you’re not being rude-- I mean, it’s too much. We didn't build the place, though.”

“V.V. Argost did, right?”

Zak shut his eyes tightly, his face screwing up. “Y-yeah.”

Rex furrowed his brow. “Maybe you should sit down,” he mumbled. Zak looked like his migraine was just getting worse, but he shook his head.

“It’s fine. It just flares up for a few seconds,” he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. “Is your TV any good? Or is it, like, one of those radio TVs?”

“It’s pretty good! The image quality is really crisp, and it’s about…” Rex stretched his arms out to scale, “about this wide? I watch my stories on it.” Zak chuckled and Rex smiled. “It’s way more fun than the only thing I had to play with for, like, a year, which was this red rubber ball-- I just bounced it on the wall and caught it and bounced it aga-- oof,” he ran right into Doc’s arm, where he had frozen in his spot while walking.

“Did you find him?” Rex asked, looking around Doc to see if he could spot the wheelbarrow. Apparently, Doyle had picked it up after he brought in Six, Holiday, and Zak, and he just walked away with it. Zak said he probably was gonna take it back to where he was before and go to sleep in it. 

Doc looked nervous, but he smiled awkwardly and pointed ahead. “He’s over there. Uh, Rex, did you know that legally, a bedroom has to be at least seventy square feet?” He looked at Rex, then his eyes flickered behind him for a moment before he made eye contact again.

Rex tilted his head. That was kinda interesting-- it made sense, though, the old room wasn’t exactly the best place to hang out in. It was cozy, but that was about it. “I guess it was more like a storage closet,” he shrugged. “I’m glad they got me the new room, y’know?”

“Of course,” Doc looked over at his EVO brother-in-law, tapping his foot. He furrowed his brow and put a hand to his chin, then knocked on the tree closest to him and pulled a pen and notepad out of his pocket. He scribbled something down and ripped the note off, then handed it to Rex. “When you get back to Providence, if you need anything, call that number, okay?”

Rex took the note. It just said “Saturday” followed by a phone number, and he folded it in half and tucked it into his pocket. “Uh, thanks, Dr. Saturday,” he looked around the man at Doyle, reclining on the wheelbarrow and snoring. 

He glanced back at Holiday, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Doc with a weird look in her eye, and he looked back at her with narrowed eyes. She switched her gaze to the ground.

Zak walked up beside him again. “He’s pretty empathetic as an EVO. If you’re calm, he’ll stay calm too. We don’t want to startle him, though.”

Rex nodded. “Right. Um…” He looked at the EVO in the wheelbarrow. He forced his muscles to relax and took a deep breath. 

He glanced at Zak, who smiled reassuringly and walked forward. “I’ll wake him up. It’ll probably be better if he’s awake, right?”

“Yeah,” Rex said, even though he wasn’t entirely sure if there was a difference. Zak walked over and patted the EVO’s neck. He murmured something as Doyle opened his eyes sleepily and yawned, his mouth huge. 

“Hey,” Zak said to his uncle, in that soft voice he used with the Bigfoot from before. “Sorry for waking you up again. This is important, though. This is Rex,” he gestured to him, and Rex instinctively lifted a hand to wave. “We’re gonna try something, alright? Stay still.”

Doyle sat up and looked down at Rex, eyes half-closed. Rex stared at him for a moment, his heart skipping. He had no reason to be nervous-- he did this all the time! He didn’t want to disappoint--

No. It was fine. The Saturdays wouldn’t be disappointed, because Rex was going to cure him.

He pressed his palms to the EVO’s chest, closing his eyes at the simultaneously cold and warm feeling of his nanites flowing through his veins. It was like going out in the snow after brushing his teeth, but also laying in a patch of sunlight on the ground where the carpet in the sunbeam was warmer than the floor around.

His ears wooshed and popped, and he felt dizzy. He opened his eyes to see the man he just cured.

Uncle Doyle was a pale man with red hair, blue eyes now wide open, freckles speckling his face and shoulders and… pecs…

Rex’s face burned and he springboarded off Doyle’s chest, landing flat on his back with an oof. He pursed his lips, staring through the trees at the clouds. He was not thinking about his muscles.

Zak entered his field of view, smiling all amused. He held out a hand and helped Rex up.

Doc wrapped the sheet around Doyle’s shoulders, letting him lean on him as he climbed out of the wheelbarrow. “Easy. How do you feel?”

Doyle made a soft noise from the back of his throat, clutching the blanket around his shoulders, then coughed and blinked. “D-Doc?”

“I’m here. Do you remember anything?” Doc wrapped an arm around his brother-in-law’s waist as he stumbled, weak on his legs after years of not really having them. 

The man looked confused before rage dawned on his face. He clutched his head in his hands and Doc held up the blanket around him as he growled to himself. He took a shaking breath and barked, “his face! It’s his face…”

Doc wrapped his arms around him, pressing Doyle’s face into his shoulder, muffling what he said next. “Easy. Easy… Breathe.” Doyle clutched Doc’s arm, taking a few shallow breaths before screaming, muffled by Doc’s chest.

He screamed for almost ten seconds straight before he ran out of breath and slumped in Doc’s arms, sobbing softly into his shoulder. Doc closed his eyes and cupped the back of Doyle’s head.

“Hey,” Zak murmured, and Rex tore his eyes away from them to look at him. He looked down, directing Rex to follow his gaze. His eyes landed on the hem of Zak’s jacket, clutched tightly in his own hand.

Rex pulled away quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Zak held out a hand. “You cure people a lot, right? That’s probably stressful.”

Rex shrugged, hunching over a bit. “I like curing people. I like helping, I just…” He looked at Doyle, sobbing on Doc. “I just wish I could help more.”

Zak held his hand up higher, giving Rex another one of those reassuring smiles. Rex looked at his hand for a moment before he took it, squeezing it a little. Zak squeezed back. “It’s not your fault he’s upset. He was in a bad situation when he went EVO. He probably couldn’t process it.”

“Oh,” Rex blinked, feeling something odd in Zak’s hand. Not that he was holding anything (except Rex’s hand), but in Zak’s hand-- every creature on Earth had nanites in it. Most nanites were dormant, inactive; active nanites made organisms variegate exponentially. 

The problem was, Rex usually didn’t feel inactive nanites. He would never cure Bobo, but when he touched him, he could feel the nanites. He could feel them in incurables, stationary and stubborn. Zak’s nanites didn’t feel like an EVO’s active nanites, but they didn’t feel like nothing. Rex couldn’t even pinpoint if the feeling was nanites at all-- but it had to be, right? What else could that dull glow of a feeling be? 

“Where’s Drew?” Doyle asked Doc, his voice hoarse.

“She’s--” he cut himself off, thinking for a moment. “We’re living out of Weird World. Argost is gone. She’s back there.”

Doc was probably expecting more of a reaction (maybe Doyle was a big Argost fan), but he just nodded, exhausted. “I want Drew.”

“Can you walk?” Doc asked, and Doyle nodded, wrapping the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. “Hold on.”

Doyle ignored him, took a step, and flinched at the rough ground on his bare feet. Doc leaned on the wheelbarrow and took off his shoes. “Here,” Doyle hesitated for a moment before he took the shoes, slipping them on.

“It’s normal to feel a bit more sensitive after being cured,” Holiday said, stepping into the little bubble that Rex was imagining around Doyle and Doc. “Temperature might get to you more than it used to, too.”

Doyle stared at her for a moment. “Oh, damn,” he finally said. “Uh… Hey,” he chuckled. “Doyle Blackwell.”

Holiday smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Dr. Holiday. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Call me Doyle,” he stood up a bit straighter, puffing his chest out a bit. “Have we met before?”

“Only if you count earlier today. You pulled me, my coworker, and your nephews back to the mansion in that wheelbarrow.”

“Yep, sounds like me,” Doyle said smugly. “I’m a very hard worker.”

Holiday snickered. Doc’s eye twitched. Rex turned to Zak and whispered. “Are they flirting?”

“Yeah, I think they’re flirting.” Rex stuck his tongue out.

“You’re doing fine. Get on with it,” Doc grumbled, pushing Doyle towards the path. “Drew’s waiting for you.”

Uncle Doyle hit it off pretty good with Dr. Holiday, which sucked, because Zak was pretty sure she was not much better than Abbey girlfriend-wise. By the time they got back to Weird World, Doyle was dead on his feet, barely even awake enough to process that Mom was wearing the high temperature suit.

He was asleep now, in the room beside Mom and Dad’s room. Dr. Holiday estimated that he’d probably sleep in late and wake up hungry. Being cured was apparently a very energy-expensive activity.

Agent Six had insisted that he, Rex, and Dr. Holiday should share a room-- Zak didn’t entirely blame him. He didn’t like sleeping alone in Weird World when he could help it. The entire place felt like a threat.

Zak turned on the light of the bedroom the Providence posse would stay in, the bulb audibly flickering as the room lit up. “There’s a bathroom right here,” he pointed to the door right beside the door to the hallway, “and two kings.” He turned to Agent Six, who had insisted almost violently that he was not going to be wheeled in on the cot. “We can carry the cot up the stairs, you know. You guys don’t have to share any of the beds if you don’t want-- and Dad says you, ” he pointed at Agent Six, “can’t share a bed at all. Not until that bite scabs over.”

“I know.”

“You want some towels to put down in case it bleeds through?” Agent Six raised an eyebrow. Zak shrugged. “Just asking.”

Rex was looking into the bathroom, looking delighted. “It’s like a hotel room! I’ve always wanted to stay in a hotel.”

“Dream big, right?” Zak handed a plastic bag to Agent Six, noticing the miniscule flinch as he reached out. “A change of clothes for you.” He looked at Dr. Holiday and Rex. “You guys can borrow some clothes if you want, too.”

“That’s alright!” Rex had climbed up on the sink and was drawing in the dust on the mirror.

“Thank you,” Dr. Holiday said, not looking at Zak.

Zak backed out of the room. “If y’all need anything, just holler. Fisk’ll probably hear you,” he blinked. “That’s a joke. Actually, do you guys want a map? I could lend you a map--”

“That’s alright,” Agent Six interrupted dismissively.

Zak hoped they didn’t regret not taking the map. Weird World wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it used to be, but it was still quite a maze. “Alright. Good night, then.”

“Night!” Rex called, and Agent Six shut the door. 

Zak dropped his smile, sighing. He was haggard. He didn’t get a good sleep last night, he was waking up every couple hours in a cold sweat, and it was catching up to him. 

He figured he should head straight to bed. He rubbed his eyes. The meds were wearing off and his migraine was coming back in full force, so maybe he should make a detour for some ibuprofen. 

Everything happened at once today, and it was getting under Zak’s skin. Good things: Rex seemed nice and Uncle Doyle wasn’t an EVO anymore. Bad things: Rex was in Providence, Uncle Doyle was upset, there were Providence agents in his home, Komodo was hurt…

Zak’s feet moved on their own. What kind of brother was he? If Fisk were there, he would’ve been able to stop the fight before Komodo was tranquilized. Maybe he should’ve told Rex to come with him while he sent the sasquatch with Van Rook. Then when they were walking back, Agent Six would probably know that Komodo wasn’t a threat.

He put his hands to his face, rubbing sand from his eyes. Maybe he was overreacting. Komodo would be fine by tomorrow, Uncle Doyle would be able to process the… Things he learned before going EVO now. Rex didn’t seem bothered by working with Providence. 

That didn’t erase the white-hot terror of seeing the man pull weapons on his brother, or the fact that Rex was his age and working full-time as a soldier, or the fact that they’d have to tell Uncle Doyle about what they did with--

Zak froze in his tracks, realizing where he was. He stood at the top of the steps to the dungeon, the slate cold under his bare feet. The only thing keeping him from walking down was a deep red velvet curtain.

Doyle would be furious that he wasn’t dead. Zak pulled the curtain aside and slipped into the stairway.

It wasn’t like they didn’t try. Zak’s family were humane people, but they weren’t eternally tolerant. He continued his descent.

Nanites made it difficult to cull EVOs. Euthanasia was impossible on some, as the nanites broke down the medicine too fast for it to work. Most EVOs were too large for inhalant chambers, if their nanites didn’t also break down those chemicals. He was halfway down the steps now, his feet sticking to the ground with each step.

It was nearly impossible to humanely kill an EVO. The closest that the Saturdays had gotten so far was Zak using his abilities to get a violent cryptid EVO to sit still and keep them calm while Dad gave them an injection. Even then, he felt his body going numb as the creature died, which caused him a lot of distress, so they tried not to go that route. 

Hell was hot, but Zak was in a cold sweat.

Sometimes the best way to deal with an EVO that might hurt others is to keep them somewhere that they couldn’t hurt anyone. For creatures like the sasquatch Rex had cured, that meant a sparsely populated area where he wouldn’t accidentally step on smaller creatures. 

For some creatures, that meant something a bit more intense.

For one creature, that meant something more intense. There were no other animals in this dungeon anymore, not since Mom and Dad freed and relocated all the cryptids that lived here before. 

The only animal here anymore was V.V. Argost.

Zak stopped in front of his cell, staring past the bars into the closest set of Argost’s eyes. He had five heads, eight limbs, and he was huge, at least fifteen feet tall. His skin was blue and his fur was snow white. He stared back at Zak with contempt, pulling at his shackles and then growling softly at him.

Zak unclipped the Claw from his side, letting his arms hang limply instead of holding the staff towards Argost. His voice came out like a ghostly breath, “I wonder what you’re thinking about right now…”

Zak hated nanites. He hated the crawling, the squirming, the itch under his skin, the pins and needles static that engulfed his body. He hated the loss of focus, he hated the metallic taste in his mouth, he hated his mind. He hated V.V. Argost.

He hated the Saturdays. He hated Zak Saturday. 

The cold wind bit into his skin, almost drowning out the feeling of nanites crawling , and he found himself in a storm. The snow was so thick he couldn’t see a thing more than two steps ahead of him. He spat on the ground, his saliva thick and tasting of iron, and he watched the red splotch bloom on the surface of the snow before being covered just as quickly. 

He trudged forward, his throat and lungs aching with the freezing air. He could die here. That would be perfectly fine.

His foot caught on something wet and warm in the snow, quickly becoming colder. He knelt down to dig through the snow for it, his hands becoming stained in the wine red that flowed from the hole he created. His claws scratched something burning hot, and he dragged it up from the ground, holding it hanging from its shoulder, its hair blending seamlessly into the snow around it. 

A giddy laugh rose from his stomach, his tears searing his cheeks. Meat from the body, his mother’s body, fell to the ground and stained the snow. Everything was red; a wet, sticky, warm red, on his hands and his feet and in the snow.

The laugh tore out of him, a haunting, awful noise, and he couldn’t stop it. His shoulders shook with the effort, the laughter stealing his breath away, he was asphyxiating--

His shoulders shook. His shoulders shook back and forth. His shoulders were-- his entire torso was shaking.

Zak gasped as he jolted out of his trance, his eyes needing a moment to adjust to the darkness of the dungeon. He blinked tears out of his eyes, slowly focusing on his surroundings. Fisk was clutching his shoulders tightly, his hands enveloping Zak’s upper arms. 

He loosened his grip as he lowered himself to a knee, letting Zak sit down on the cold floor. Fisk muttered something, chastising him, and Zak hung his head. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed. He couldn’t think straight, he could only think of his guilt and anger at himself, he could only think about how angry Fisk must be.

Fisk cooed and pulled him close, letting Zak cry into his chest. It could’ve been seconds or hours that they sat there, Zak sobbing into his oldest brother’s fur, but Fisk moved at some point, gently pulling him to his feet.

Fisk wrapped one arm around Zak’s shoulders and held his hand with the other hand, letting his little brother cling to him like a lifeline. They walked away from Argost’s kennel, and Zak didn’t let himself look back.

Chapter Text

Agent Six sat cross-legged on the ground in front of the door. He had noted which way the door opened when they were first shown the room, just in case. 

He didn't trust these people. He rarely trusted anyone. He didn't trust their home, he didn't trust their locks, and he didn't trust their medicine. 

His leg throbbed. 

If any of the Saturdays tried to come in through the door to harm them, even if they unlocked it, Six sat in front as a barricade. 

The window was directly across from the door, about twenty feet away. This mansion was huge-- the large rooms almost made Six feel more trapped. Like there was just more room for a fight.

He could see the stains on the walls. He could see the imperfections in the wallpaper. This room wasn't always a guest room.

Not in the traditional sense, at least. 

Rebecca didn't like the Saturdays either, but he was fairly certain she didn't think they'd try to attack them. Rex… He wasn't sure what Rex thought, but the boy wasn't exactly a paragon of good judgment. 

He turned away from the window and pressed his ear to the door when he heard footsteps.

The garbled, messy noise of the non-EVO animal that Zak called his brother came to him, though he had to strain to hear it. The creature was talking quietly. Trying not to wake up their prisoners?

"I know," he heard the dazed, mumbled voice of Zak. "How… How long was I in there?"

It made a small noise in response. Six could hear both footsteps stop, then the distinct noise of nylon brushing against something.

"I'm sorry," Zak said, voice muffled now. "I know I said I wouldn't…"

The creature shushed him, the irritating noise of nylon being rubbed almost overwhelming their conversation. The thing must've hugged him and now it was rubbing his back.

"He's just… He's right there , Fisk…"

Who? Six pressed his ear into the door closer. He could hear one set of footsteps again-- Fisk had picked up the boy in its arms to carry to bed, no doubt. 

Who is right there?

He pulled himself to his feet with a grip on the doorknob. A shock of pain radiated up his leg and into his hip, but he ignored it. He adjusted his stance to put his weight on his good leg and his hand, then he unlocked the door to follow the animal and the boy. As he slipped out, he locked the door again. He didn’t have the time to wake up Rex or Rebecca and ask them to take over the watch, so he just needed to hope that if the Saturdays had bad intentions, they wouldn’t show them now.

Only wearing socks on his feet made it a bit easier to walk silently, but he still bit his tongue at each little noise he made limping after them. He felt like a sitting duck, unable to keep his breathing or footsteps silent and without his swords. He even felt cold-- that was probably not his fault, though. Rebecca had made him change clothes after he was bitten, which he knew was the right call, but he didn’t really bring a change of clothes.

So he sat in the bathroom for thirty minutes longer than he would have if he had just taken an actual shower investigating Dr. Saturday’s loaned sweatpants and tank top for any form of tracking device. He had concluded that if there was one, it was too small to really hold enough information for a GPS, so it was probably safe enough to wear.

The pants were warm enough, but Six had to tighten the drawstrings almost at his waist for the legs to not drag on the floor and the pants to not immediately fall off. The undershirt was thin, so thin that after he got out of the shower and put it on he noticed that the water made it transparent. It hung on his body awkwardly, like it didn’t know how to sit on someone with more lean muscle than bulk.

If there was any upside to having to wear these clothes, it was definitely Rebecca’s face after he left the bathroom, when the top was still wet. He had barely held back a smirk when her cheeks reddened.

He wasn’t going to be distracted by his thoughts, though. He needed to figure out where Zak came from, who he was. Which way did he come from? The hallway was straight across, didn’t split into different paths, so wherever they were heading was the opposite of where they came from. 

Windows covered with dark red curtains lined one side of the hallway, opposite to the door Six came from. He couldn’t hear the boy or the creature anymore, but he was pretty sure they went behind him…

He continued walking. Perhaps there was an easy answer to this one. Maybe the “he” that Zak was referring to was his uncle, or the komodo dragon. Six also hated to be away from people he cared for if they were hurt. If he didn’t have so much self-control, he might visit One once in a while.

He needed to know for sure, though. It was the only lead he had so far-- Rex had mentioned, when he, Rebecca, and Six were alone, that Zak seemed to use some sort of staff to control the EVO. Six needed to pay particular attention to him if that was true. He noticed before that the boy hid some sort of weapon under his shirt, likely the staff that Rex mentioned, so he was the one who wielded it if it was the Kur stone. 

He couldn’t imagine why they would have the child control it, though. It was also possible that they didn’t know their son had it. He couldn’t think of any other good reasons for Zak to have some sort of--

“You shouldn’t be on that leg.”

Six froze, immediately trying to wield his swords and biting his tongue when he remembered he didn’t have them. He took deep breaths for a moment, coming down from the adrenaline of being addressed when he wasn’t expecting it.

Drew Saturday was sitting cross-legged on the ground in the room a door down, resting her hands on her knees. Six recognized after a moment that she was meditating-- at least, she was meditating before he walked past and distracted her. 

He disliked her mask. He disliked that he couldn’t see what expression she was wearing, if she was smirking or frowning or if she looked surprised at all. “You’re up late,” he said lamely, unsure what else he could say.

“I haven’t slept in years. I’m a mother,” she quipped, standing up. “And I’m an EVO. I can’t sleep anymore. What’s your excuse?”

Six’s eye twitched. Excuse. He didn’t have one. There was a bathroom connected to the room they were sleeping in. “I was looking for the kitchen,” he said. That would be believable. He didn’t eat what he was given for dinner, and he had skipped lunch, and he rarely ate breakfast--

He realized belatedly that he actually was very hungry, and his stomach grumbled the moment he thought about it. Drew stood there for a moment before sighing. “You could’ve eaten at dinner.” He instinctively tensed as she approached, but she walked past him. “I’ll show you around the kitchen if you want to make something for yourself,” she lowered her voice, the sound of fire crackling becoming louder. “I wouldn’t trust anything in this place if I didn’t stock the kitchen myself.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, and Six tucked his thumbs in the waistband of the sweatpants and followed. He could probably use this situation to get information about what was really going on here from her. He simply had to poke and prod with simple questions; after all, this place wasn’t exactly a government organization. There shouldn’t be any information that’s classified, only information that’s unimportant and information that Providence knows.

“Your son offered us a map of the mansion before leaving us,” he said as casually as he could. “You actually have something like that?”

She continued walking, and for a moment Six wondered if she didn't hear him. Then she turned her head, looking over her shoulder. "We do. It took us a couple months to map the entire place out. Weird World’s built like the Winchester mystery house. It's important to know where you're going, so you don’t get," she paused for a moment, touching the wall beside her. "Lost."

Six raised an eyebrow. "So you use maps to find your way around?"

"Well, not anymore. I know where most everything is now."

"Why don't you just put up signs? If you don't want anyone to get lost."

She sighed and he could hear the grimace in her voice. "Nothing's ever that easy. Here's the kitchen."

Drew pulled aside a garish beaded curtain and walked in and Six followed. The kitchen was smaller than the bedroom that they were staying in and the tile and wallpaper were both eye-strainingly ugly. He thanked himself in his mind for keeping his sunglasses on in the dark, because he was already getting a migraine here.

Drew gestured to a large meat locker door, leaning against the long marble counter. "There's the fridge. There's another door in the fridge, and that's the freezer." A freezer was a good place to check for signs of foul play, but if he was cornered in the fridge, he didn't have any way to defend himself. 

There was a knife block on the counter beside Drew, so if he picked up one pretending he would need it for cooking, he might be able to defend himself in case of assault.

"On that wall is the pantry," she pointed to her left. "And the stove is here. Doc just went shopping, so everything he bought should be sealed."

Six knew ways to get poison into sealed containers, so that didn't reassure him. 

"Don't bother with the tap, the plumbing here is garbage and everything will become a leaky mess. The tap water isn't clean. We have carboys of clean water on the left in the pantry."

Distantly, Six knew he was being, as Rex would say, "insanely paranoid, like, completely loco." What good would it do the Saturdays to keep pre-poisoned food in their kitchen, or alternatively, have an entire kitchen for keeping poisoned food? Drew wouldn't exactly be able to slip ricin in his rice without him noticing. He prided himself on his awareness.

He was also sure that Drew knew she was more powerful than him at the moment. Even if he put up a fight, he wouldn't be able to end it without his swords or access to pressure points hidden under her suit-- not to mention that touching her would cause burns anyways, and he couldn't fight at full strength with his injured leg.

He was at her mercy. His body went cold at the thought.

She was staring at him, he could feel her scorching gaze from behind her mask, and he bit his tongue. He was loathe to turn his back on her, but he figured it would make him look like he suspected something if he walked backwards to the pantry, so he turned and opened the door.

He kept his ear on Drew, focusing hard on the noise of her crackling, any sound of movement or footfall would be a sign that it was time for a fight. He scanned the shelves, blood rushing in his ears and his breath becoming harder to keep steady.

He didn't want to stay in this room for too long, and he didn't want to use that gas stove in a room where he was already having trouble breathing. Cooking was out of the question.

He opened the plastic wrap on a box of individually packaged ramen and took a pack, whirling around quickly to look back at Drew. She was standing in the same position as before. 

In their early twenties, maybe even around eighteen or nineteen, Five used to eat dry blocks of ramen and give the flavor packets to Trey because they were "too spicy". Six picked up the habit after her, but he couldn't stand the lack of flavor, so he obviously didn't give Trey any of the packets. Five started giving them to Six instead at that point, and he would crush and mix the dry noodles with the powder and tip it back into his mouth and he'd be done with any meal in minutes, which gave him more time for working.

Trey eventually started cooking large meals and begging Five and Six to stop eating ramen in a way God never intended, as they would die at twenty-five from dehydration and malnourishment, and they stopped. Six never lost the taste for it though.

So he placed the pack of ramen on the counter and brought his elbow down hard on it, trying to kill two birds with one stone by crushing up the dry noodles and also easing some of his tension. Then he opened the bag, mixed in the flavor packet, and tipped it back into his mouth.

An odd sound came from Drew and he froze. She had a hand covering her mask and her shoulders shook. It took him a moment to realize she was laughing.

"It's faster," he said. "Boiling water wastes too much time."

"You-- Gods," she snorted, covering her face for a moment. Then she composed herself and sighed. "Okay. I'm good. One of my coworkers doesn't even eat solid food because he thinks it wastes time."

That was an in. "Coworker? You're still working in your condition?"

Six had to wonder if she was pulling a face at him with how she stared silently for just too long to be comfortable. Either she was making a face or she was trying to think of a convincing way to omit the truth.

"I'm a zoologist," she finally said, hopping up to sit on the counter behind her. "I only live here for work."

"Doesn't seem like a lucrative business, considering the animals you study and how the wider scientific community doesn't think they exist."

"We don't work for profit," the light behind her mask flickered softly, "We work to protect and study cryptids. It's clear what happens when the wider public knows where they are."

Six put the ramen bag in the trash can, keeping his gaze firmly on Drew's face. "Is it really work if you aren't being paid?"

"We have plenty to live comfortably and work. We don’t need more money, so we don't take more money."

Six raised an eyebrow. He wasn't about to get into a conversation about economics. "Dr. Holiday said your brother seemed fine," he changed the subject.

She went quiet again, her finger tapping softly on the counter. "He just needs rest now," she said, her voice quiet and contemplative. He had struck a nerve. "I need to remember to thank Rex in the morning." 

"You argued with your son against curing him," Six pressed, leaning heavily on his good leg. "You didn't want your brother cured. Why? "

Drew was still for a few long seconds, and Six felt like the room was colder. She slowly reached up and took her mask, pulling it backwards like a hood. Bright yellow flames licked up her hand, but the suit didn't catch fire.

She pushed herself off the counter and took a step closer, and Six could finally see her face.

It wasn't a face so much as a set of eyes. There was one eye in the center of her head and three eyes to either side of it, the shape vaguely reminding Six of a lotus flower. She had seven eyes, and they were blazing with anger.

Her voice came out quiet again, but this time it wasn't soft. It was harsh and burning and judgmental. "Rex is the same age as my son. He's not a soldier, he's a child."

Six felt defensive on Rex's behalf. He could hear White Knight saying the same thing, he's untrained, he can't follow orders, we can't let him get away with things like that. You keep him under control, Six, or we find a way to use his abilities without having to deal with him. "Rex is capable of handling himself. He knows the risks--"

The flames flared up and Drew stomped forward, pointing a finger at Six's chest. "Did he know about the Mongolian Death Worm venom? Do these risks often come with side effects of full body paralysis at best? "

That couldn't be fair. Nobody knew about the Mongolian Death Worm venom. Six had no idea what happened when Rex started screaming, and it terrified him. But he was holding up just fine now, and it didn't seem like there would be long-term effects of being sprayed.

Somehow, Six didn't think that "he heals very quickly" would be what Drew wanted to hear. Rex was traumatized-- everyone at Providence knew that, they knew that since Six found him. He didn't remember anything. There was the mental trauma and then there was the physical trauma, because no matter how quickly the nanites could heal him, Rex was always going to have brain damage and he was always going to be disabled. 

"He heals very quickly," Six said lamely, and in a flash Drew was bright blue and she turned and punched a hole in the wall. 

She took deep breaths, her arm lodged in the wall, until the fire died down-- white, yellow, and finally a soft orange. She pulled her arm out and let it hang at her side, still forcing deep breaths. "Don't. Ever. Say anything that stupid around me again."

Six didn't open his mouth, and Drew didn't move. He heard a chattering noise from her and tensed-- no, it wasn't from her. 

He squinted at the wall as it shifted, and he started to notice a whole colony of centipede-like worms squirming towards the hole Drew had punched in the wall. She stared at them apathetically as they swarmed the wall, filling it with something from their mouths.

"Shamir," she said, sounding exhausted. "They're everywhere, always multiplying, and they keep up the… maintenance. That's why we don't put up any fucking signs."

Neither of them spoke or moved as the worms filled in the hole in the wall, the sight almost sickening. Six had a strong stomach, but the squirming of those little bodies… It wasn't appetizing, to say the least. 

He tensed again at a sudden beeping sound, gritting his teeth and planting his feet. Drew huffed and pressed a button on the pager that was sitting in the corner of the counter-- a pager that Six didn't even notice before-- and the noise stopped. "I'm going to answer the door."

She started walking, but Six followed, a few meters behind so that she wouldn't be able to strike him while he was off-guard. "You get guests this late?"

Drew didn't answer and picked up the pace, her flames a bright yellow again. Rebecca would probably find this interesting. Based on her body language, it seemed like her anger made her literally burn hotter. 

"You don't seem like the hospitable type," he said, prodding. Sure enough, her shoulders scrunched up and she was white, then she started to breathe deeply. With each breath, the flames died down, back to the soft orange they were before.

"You can sleep outside if you hate it so much here," she growled back, turning the corner. Six followed into the large extravagant foyer, the unlit chandelier making him grimace. 

"Drew! If you don't mind, we're freezing out here!" A voice, so heavily accented that it somehow made "Drew" a two-syllable word, came from the other side of the front door. 

Drew stopped walking, crossed her arms, and started walking slower, stomping loudly so the person at the door could hear her footsteps.

“You’re joking,” the voice said, then quieter, “she is joking, right?” There was an odd rattling sound, like a maraca, and Drew put her hand on the door handle. She very slowly started to turn it. “Okay, I give! Please let us in.”

Drew opened the door slightly and the man shoved past her into the manor. She growled at him before stepping outside, and Six could hear her quietly murmur, “hey, sweetness,” through the door before he turned his attention to the new guy.

He was tall, with graying black hair and a distinct enough face that Six was sure he’d never seen him before. His voice seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The man smirked back at him. “So it was Providence. How about you, pretty boy? You also can do the shit they show on TV?”

Six raised an eyebrow. 

“If the cure boy’s legit, I suppose anything’s possible,” the man looked him up and down. “Well? Introduce yourself. What’s your name?”

Six’s eye twitched, but he was fully aware of his tactical disadvantage here. “Agent Six.”

“Sure it is,” the man narrowed his eyes and turned his attention to tapping at some handheld, and the front door opened again.

“Stay close,” she called out the door, “we don’t want more tourists!”

“Looking lovely tonight, Drew,” the man said, putting the handheld into his pocket. Drew scoffed and walked past him. “What, no hug?”

“Believe me, Leonidas,” she warned. “In my current state, you are the person I want to hug most. ”

“I’m hearing compliments,” Leonidas looked sideways at Six. “Give me a minute before bedtime, I just got here.” He reached into his pocket again, and Six expected him to pull out that handheld, but he took out a pack of cigarettes instead. “Light?”

“Not in the house,” Drew pulled the hood back up before he could attempt to light one with her head. 

“Come on. This place is drafty,” he tapped the box against his hand and took out a smoke. “It’s basically outside everywhere.”

“The shamirs actually keep the place pretty insulated,” Drew muttered, crossing her arms. “If you need to, you smoke outside.”

Leonidas shook his head, glancing at Six again. “Outside in Weird World? You really want me dead, do you, Drew?”

“Hostile cryptids won’t come close to the mansion,” Drew said again, in that warning voice. “You know that.”

He looked at Six again, but this time he held eye contact. “Well, maybe I’d feel more secure with a guard, hm?” He was giving Six this… Stupid meaningful look. Like he had information.

“...What, Agent Six? He’s not supposed to be on that leg,” Drew said irritably. “Komodo bit him pretty bad. Komodo bit you before too, and you whined about it for weeks. He wasn’t even an EVO then.”

“Maybe he just didn’t bite the pretty boy as hard,” Leonidas leaned over. “C’mon, I’ll babysit him for an hour or so. You get your rest.”

Drew was about to argue, but Six stepped in. “Alright,” he said, holding out a hand for Leonidas to shake. 

The man grinned and shook his hand, and Drew stood there, possibly confused. Six couldn’t see her face, so he couldn’t really tell what she was thinking. She was silent for a long time before she finally sighed. “Fine. When you’re done, he’s staying in the largest room. Walk him back there.”

Six prickled. She was keeping him supervised. He hated being watched by these people.

Leonidas flicked his lighter again, letting out a frustrated groan. “Stupid thing’s out of gas,” he muttered.

Six leaned against the wall, bad leg slightly elevated, and closed his eyes and just listened to the noises around him. The huff of Leonidas’s breath, the scrape of his lighter every two seconds, the ungodly screeching of bugs in the surrounding forests.

“Got a light, pretty boy?”

Six raised an eyebrow. He was not going to acknowledge “pretty boy” as a name.

Leonidas grunted and started digging through his pockets, turning them out. The handheld he was looking at before fell out, and Six stared at it. It wasn’t a phone, and he leaned forward slightly to get a better look at it.

His brow furrowed. He hadn’t seen one of these since before the event-- but that was mostly because he hadn’t really done any work that required it since before the event. They were wireless communicators, set up with state-of-the-art encryption and they were relatively easy to use.

Six tensed, watching Leonidas strike a match and finally light his cigarette. These things were almost exclusively used by law breakers, whether they be assassins or drug dealers or worse. They were the easiest way to find mercenaries to hire who would do anything for the right amount.

“Stoic,” Leonidas said, smoke flowing from his mouth and nose. “Loosen up. Cigarette?”

He could really use a cigarette, actually. Rebecca would notice the smell, though, and she wouldn’t be happy. She also wouldn’t point it out, but he’d know that she knows and it would make him feel like garbage. She might notice the smell just from him being near this guy, though. 

There was also the possibility that the cigarettes were laced with something, either to kill him or to make it easier to kill him. He couldn’t imagine how he could be easier to kill than he is now, though, and Leonidas was smoking the same cigarettes, so--

“Well, offer’s there,” he grunted, taking another drag. “You think a lot. I’m guessing you’re the drag Five mentioned.”

Six froze, blinking rapidly. “Excuse me?”

“Five,” Leonidas said, smirking. “She’s lovely. We had a great night together a few years back. Said most of you numbers are fine but one of you’s a big narc.”

Six was silent, and Leonidas took another breath. “...Dos, actually. Is the narc. You recognized me?”

“‘Agent Six’ isn’t exactly a name. Especially since other Providence agents have, you know, real names.” He stood up and walked over to sit next to Six, which made him tense again. “Never thought I’d see the day when Providence was able to get firepower like the numbers.”

Six narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been with Providence for five years.”

“No kidding? How’s the pay?”

“...Bad.”

Leonidas snorted, smoke billowing from his mouth as he laughed. “I get it. You’re not hurting for cash, so you work for a cause you think is good. I respect that,” he raised the cigarette to his lips again, smile disappearing. “Even if I don’t agree with you.”

Six glared. “You don’t agree that EVOs should be controlled?”

“I don’t agree that that’s what Providence is doing,” he said, not missing a beat. “Providence constantly fucks over people around EVOs. You might’ve noticed that if you’ve worked with them for five years.”

He did notice that, actually. Rebecca had to fight tooth and nail just to keep Beverly alive. There were plenty of people who were unable to fight for their families the same way. 

“I’m not a big ‘appeal-to-humanity’ guy. These suckers are. So if you noticed that they all hate you, that’s why.” Leonidas gave him a sideways look. “I’m sure they’re wrong to dislike you. I’ve changed since the event, so…” He gestured to Six. “Still, I have to wonder if you changed, or if you just decided that being a murderer was better than being an assassin somehow.”

Six curled his lip. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you, actually. You might know that these people don’t take kindly to poachers, but they’re much less patient with killers,” he raised an eyebrow. “And even less patient with someone who hurts a kid.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Six growled. “I don’t kill people. Not anymore. And I would break that streak if I knew about anyone hurting a kid.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Leonidas shrugged, “if you were still killing, I assume you’d kill me right now to cover your trail. Am I right?”

Six kept glaring, but didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he was right. He didn’t want to think about it if he was. 

Leonidas smoked in silence for a few more minutes before the cigarette burned down to the filter and he stamped out the embers. “So serious. Your demeanor is contagious. I’d offer to get you a drink to loosen up, but I assume you’re already full of drugs.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please. I’ve been in the hospital for taking--”

“You don’t know about me, ” he clarified, pushing himself to his feet. “And I don’t have to prove anything to you or these people. I was here to do my job.”

“And what job is that? Wipe out Weird World? It’s much harder than it looks.”

That gave Six pause. “...Why would we need to wipe out Weird World?” They were there because it seemed like some strange EVOs were drawn there, but none of them were actually found at Weird World. It wouldn’t make sense to wipe them out, unless…

Unless Leonidas knew something that Six didn’t. Something about the Kur stone, or about the creatures. 

“That’s what Providence does best, isn’t it? Wipe things out.”

It felt like he was trying to cover something up. Drew said that she wouldn’t trust anything in the mansion. What was so special about Weird World?

Leonidas sighed and stood up. “Well, I have to escort you to bed now. Seems like I’m always ferrying their animals around.”

He started walking without another word, and Six limped after him. 

He was going to find out what was going on here, if it was the last thing he was ever able to do.

Chapter Text

He was underwater, staring through the rippling surface of the pool. The world was impossibly bright, so bright that it felt dark. A cold feeling of dread weighed him down, freezing fingers clutching his clothes and his skin, dragging him…

The voices were so loud now, so loud that he couldn't understand a word they were saying. It was so loud. It was--

It was way too early for people to be talking in Rex’s room.

He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head, thrashing onto his other side. It had to be, like, four in the morning. His head pounded and his shoulder hurt like he slept on it wrong. Why were people in his room, anyway? Bobo could be inconsiderate sometimes, but he generally kept quiet when it was before breakfast.

The pillow felt weird. It smelled dusty and was way softer than it should be. He groaned, voices continuing to prattle on even though it was probably three in the morning or something. “Cállate,” he mumbled, shoving his face into the pillow. 

“You should know this too, Rex,” Six said, and Rex’s body was suddenly exposed to the elements as someone yanked the blanket off of him. He yelped and flailed for his comforter again, his shoulder protesting as he moved. 

Oh, right, this wasn’t his room. He was at the Weird World set sharing a room with Six and Holiday. His shoulder was probably just a little sore from getting flung around, and he just had a good post-cure headache. Still, it didn’t excuse the loudness.

The thick blanket fell to the floor with a thump and Six pulled the pillow off Rex’s face, staring down at him. Rex pouted. “It’s, like, two in the morning.”

“It’s 8:47,” Holiday said from the other bed. 

“Weren’t we… Supposed to, uh…” Rex stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment. There was static in his ears. Good old early-morning brain fog. “Uh, um… Taking turns?”

Six didn’t even take a full second to piece together what he was trying to say. “I wasn’t tired, so I kept watch all night.”

Rex glanced over at Holiday, who was giving Six that “we will talk about this later” look. He forced himself to a sitting position on the bed, leaning back onto the pillows. “Blanket,” he said, letting his hand flop to the side of the bed where the comforter laid on the floor. 

Six picked it up and put it back over Rex’s legs, and Rex rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up better. Six was talking again. He should probably be paying attention. He yawned.

“I stepped out to follow them-- Rex,” he snapped his fingers. “Pay attention.”

“I am.” He snapped his fingers back, making a face. “You don’t gotta snap at me.”

“It’s important that you hear this,” Six said, giving him an intense look through the sunglasses. Rex put his hands up in surrender. “I heard Zak and his ‘brother’ outside the door last night. Zak was apologizing for something, asked how long he was ‘in there’, and he said ‘he’s right there.’”

Rex raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he was checking on his uncle? I mean, I forget how long I’ve been in a place all the time, so I don’t think it’s that weird to ask how long, right?”

“I thought about that,” Six admitted, crossing his arms. “I stepped out anyway to see if I could find where they were coming from, but I ran into the matriarch and had to come up with a reason why I was walking around.”

“She should’ve sent you straight back to bed,” Holiday grumbled. “You never take these things seriously. You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Six said firmly. “I told her I was looking for the kitchen, so she walked me there. I asked her a few questions--”

“About the Kur Stone?” Rex asked.

“No. I don’t think the Saturdays are going to answer questions about that. We’ll have to find that out ourselves.” He glanced at Holiday, who gave him a disapproving look. “I asked her about Zak mentioning a map. Apparently, the mansion is built like a maze, so when they moved in they needed maps. And they don’t put signs up because of these worms--”

“I saw a worm thing yesterday!” Rex chimed in. “It was filling up a crack in the floor. It was gross.”

“She said they keep up the ‘maintenance.’” Six looked away, thinking about something. He paused for a long moment before he finally said, “another visitor is here. His name is Leonidas Van Rook, and he used to be a mercenary and rare animal poacher. I don’t know what he does now, but he claimed he changed since the event.”

“He told you all that?” Rex tilted his head, his brow furrowed. It seemed like a lot of information to give a stranger-- especially one as uncharismatic as Six.

“I looked him up after I got back to the room,” Six was omitting information, but when was he not? Rex put a hand to his chin.

“Do you think the Saturdays know?”

“Do you think the Saturdays are poachers, too?” Holiday said, interrupting Rex. “It doesn’t exactly line up with their actions, but there are a lot of animals here.”

Six looked agitated, steepling his fingers and leaning forward. “It doesn’t matter if they know or not, I don’t think we should tell them. They’ll know we have access to Providence resources if we bring it up.”

“They’re not supposed to know?” Rex raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “I mean, they know we’re with Providence, so why not--”

“And I don’t think the Saturdays themselves are poachers. He said they don’t take kindly to poachers.”

"I doubt that they'd care about us running background checks on their guests," Rex grumbled. 

"They might if there's something incriminating about them that we might find out," Holiday said, looking expectantly at Six.

"Dr. Solomon Saturday," he answered her, looking at the ceiling. "DVM, PHD in zoology. Same goes for his wife. They're both certified in caring for exotic animals, both have pilots' licenses-- they each have a very long list of certifications and licenses, actually."

"Maybe they took lessons for those instead of dancing or pottery," Rex quipped, leaning on his elbow. 

"There are missing person reports for Drew Blackwell dating back almost four decades now," Six continued. "As well as a younger sister, who was never found. I didn't see anything mentioning a brother--"

"Oh," Holiday said, picking up her glasses off the side table. "Well, that-- you know." 

Rex then saw what was maybe the most bizarre thing in his life, and he saw horrific abominations every day. Holiday gestured vaguely, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips, mouthing, "you know," and Six stared at her, face blank. Her face flushed and she traced a hand under her breasts. 

Rex hadn't noticed, because he was trying very hard not to look at Doyle when he cured him, but he could see what Holiday was saying. "He has top surgery scars. Probably just trans, not some big conspiracy."

"Yeah," Holiday said, putting a hand to her forehead with embarrassment, "what he said."

"Oh," Six's ears were pink, but he didn't miss a beat. "Zakariya Saturday. There isn't much on him."

"He's, like, sixteen," Rex said, "There isn't much on me either."

"He was arrested in Cornwall, England when he was twelve, along with the rest of his family. They seem to have just been held overnight, and no bail was paid."

"You're real disappointed that you can't find solid evidence that they did anything wrong," Rex grumbled, half to himself. 

“I don’t want them to have bad intentions, Rex,” Six said, staring intensely at him. “But we have to be careful. We can’t let our guard down.”

“It just,” Rex waved his hands around awkwardly, “I’m just saying, it sounds like you’re looking for reasons not to trust them. I mean, yeah, they live in a big creepy mansion, but they seem…” He lowered his voice as he met Six’s eyes, (or rather, his eyebrows-- he just noticed how tense and angry Six looked) “They seem nice.”

Six glowered for a moment before looking away. “You’re a bad judge of character, Rex. Don’t trust your gut.”

Rex's stomach dropped and his fingers felt cold. “Six,” Holiday warned, sitting up and giving him a glare. 

"I am?" Rex whispered, looking up at Six for-- anything, really. Why did he get so upset over such little things? Six cracked a bit, his face softening only slightly.

He put a hand on Rex's shoulder. "Sorry," he said. He was still for a moment, then he pulled his hand away and turned to Holiday. "Their arrest in Cornwall lines up with reports of an odd creature becoming more active. People swore that it wasn't an EVO, because it existed before the Event."

Six opened his mouth to say something else, but a knock on their door completely knocked the wind out of him. His hand landed sharply on the mattress and his face lost color. Holiday sighed and muttered, "get to sleep," before getting up to answer the door. 

Rex pulled the blanket around his shoulders and followed her, looking over her shoulder as she opened the door. Fiskerton was on the other side, holding a bell in one hand and a whiteboard in the other. On the whiteboard was written, in very neat handwriting, "good morning! breakfast is ready. feel free to come eat whenever you like."

Fiskerton rang the bell, smiling at Holiday. She smiled back, bemused. "Oh, uh-- same place as dinner last night?" Fiskerton nodded. "Alright, um… We'll be down at some point."

"Is Zak there now?" Rex asked, already turning around to get his shoes, gloves, and goggles. Fiskerton made an affirmative noise and Rex started putting on his essentials. "I'm gonna go ahead-- uh, Fiskerton? I'm bad with directions."

Fiskerton tsked and held out a hand, flat with the palm faced out, bell held between his ring and middle finger. He growled rhythmically, "say no more!"

Maybe Rex was getting good at this animal handling thing.

"We weren't finished talking," Holiday protested as Rex shoved his feet into his boots as fast as possible. He let his goggles hang around his neck, which was easier than putting them on his head, and he yanked on one glove with his teeth while putting on the other shoe with his other hand. "Rex."

"You just told Six he needed sleep!" He practically skipped over to the door, leaning on the doorframe for a moment. "He can get his rest and I'll go get breakfast! Deal?"

"Rex--" 

"Deal! Love you, see you later!" Rex shut the door and turned to run down the hall, but was lifted off the ground by the back of his jacket. 

Fiskerton turned, gently placing Rex's feet on the ground to walk down the hall the other way. 

"Bad with directions," Rex said shyly, following Fiskerton. He waved it off, saying something else that Rex couldn’t understand. “Uh, no offense or anything, but you-- you are speaking English, right? It’s, uh, I can kinda understand you. It’s not because you’re an animal! I also can’t really understand heavy English accents--”

Fiskerton snickered, covering his mouth with a hand. He lowered it to his chin, looking thoughtful, then spoke again. “Can… Speak slower. It’s better?”

Rex was startled at his voice when he was enunciating. It wasn’t… Normal, exactly, but he didn’t sound as much like an animal. “Wo-hoh.”

Fiskerton smiled, continuing to speak slowly. “Not always English.” He put a hand over his chest. “Mull tee leen gall.”

“Mull… Oh, you’re multilingual! Me too!” Rex grinned. “What languages do you speak?”

“Ah… English. L-Leem…” He furrowed his brow, shook his head, and mumbled something incomprehensible, then lifted his hands. “Sign-- Am err ecan.” He pinched his fingers together. “Little Spanish. French. Latin.”

“Aw, man, that’s a lot of languages,” Rex sighed. “I only got English y español. ”

Fiskerton chuckled, his shoulders shaking. “Mum speak… Thirty-seven. Flu-ent.”

Rex’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding! She speaks thirty-seven languages?” Fiskerton nodded, turning his nose up proudly. “That’s insane.” He lifted a beaded curtain and Rex walked through without scanning the room. “Your mom seems awesome.”

“Stop, you’ll make me blush,” Rex jumped at Drew’s voice. She was standing beside the dining table, holding a pile of dishes. There were four plates in her hand-- Zak was still at the table with his phone, his plate still full. Drew was one, Doc, Doyle… So Rex had just missed the guy who Six was talking about.

“G-good morning, Dr. Saturday,” Rex said, fidgeting with his goggles around his neck and staring at the floor. 

“Good morning, Rex,” she responded, putting the plates down on the table. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah! Uh, I was-- how’s your brother?”

She sighed softly, a sigh that told Rex that she was smiling. “He’s doing alright. Thank you, Rex. You didn’t have to do that, but… Well, thank you.”

“I--” he laughed incredulously, looking back up at her. “Of course I did! Just-- just doing my job.”

Drew didn’t answer. She silently picked up the plates again, walking over to the door, and stopped next to Rex and Fiskerton. She ruffled Rex’s hair. “Stay out of trouble, kiddo.”

Rex’s face was warm and he watched her as she walked away, disappearing behind the beaded curtain. He quickly combed his hair back into place with his hands, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Or something like embarrassment.

He ran over to the table, throwing himself into the chair across from Zak. “Hey!”

Zak started, almost dropping his phone onto his plate of plain toast, which Rex wasn’t judging, but he was judging. He put his phone down on the table, giving Rex an amused look. “Morning. You’re in a good mood.”

“I am?” Rex blinked, adjusting in his seat so he was sitting normally. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, and he hoped he wasn’t sweating. He only had the one outfit on him. “I feel like I’m dying, actually.”

“Uh-oh,” Zak laughed, taking a quick bite of his toast. He spoke with his mouth full and half-closed. “What’s wrong, then? Tired? Hungry?”

“I mean, I could eat-- it’s not a big deal, I just got the, uh. Heart. Pal. Palpatines.”

“Palpitations?”

Rex snapped his fingers. “That.”

Zak laughed. “Don’t die before you even eat breakfast,” he stood up. “What do you wanna eat?”

“Anything but dry toast-- uh, no offense--”

“No, I hate it too,” he nervously chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I threw up last night and Mom told me to be gentle on my stomach. So, dry toast.” He turned his back on Rex, looking at the top of the fridge. “Store-brand Cheerios good?”

“Oh, right!” Rex stood up fast, cringing at the noise of the chair scraping against the floor. “Uh, I can get it myself,” he jumped over the chair, stumbling to the fridge. He pulled down the cereal box and froze, staring at it for a moment.

“Bowl,” Zak said, handing it to Rex. 

He took it and held it, trying to figure out how to put down either of the things in his hands. It took an embarrassing amount of time for him to put the bowl onto the counter and pour the cereal into it. 

His hands started shaking and he grimaced at the thought of eating dry cereal just because he wouldn’t be able to pour milk without making a mess in front of the cool guy he was trying to make his friend. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Zak said, and he rested the back of his hand against Rex’s forehead. 

Rex felt a bit lightheaded. “No. I mean-- yes! I’m fine, I just, I’m just hungry.” Zak’s face was speckled with freckles, his eyelashes were long and dark, he reached down and held Rex’s hand, pulled up his glove, rested two fingers against his wrist… Zak’s nanites thrummed against his skin, reminding him of the dull glow that he noticed the day before--

“Do you have low blood sugar?”

“Huh?” Rex blinked. “Uh. I don’t know-- maybe?”

“Do you want milk in the cereal?” Zak asked, turning Rex around. He nodded. “Go ahead and sit down.”

Rex collapsed into his chair and watched him as he opened the fridge and took out the milk, poured it into the bowl, and put it on the table in front of him. “Thanks,” Rex mumbled, willing his hands to stop shaking while he started to eat.

“Don’t mention it,” Zak sat back down across from him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Rex furrowed his brow. “Do you guys get a lot of people who can’t sleep well or something?” Zak raised an eyebrow. “Your mom asked too.”

“It’s basic small talk,” he chuckled. “But yeah, it’s hard to sleep in Weird World.”

“Ooh,” Rex wiggled his fingers spookily. “Is it haunted? ”

Zak snorted and turned away, looking at the wall. Silence fell over the room as they continued eating, and Rex was starting to get vaguely uncomfortable with the quiet. “Um--”

“Hey, do you have to get back to your group right after breakfast?”

“Huh? Oh, uh--” Holiday probably did want him to get back as soon as possible. “Nope! Why?”

“Fisk and I were thinking of going for a ride. Wanna come?”

“A ride? Where?”

Zak shrugged. “Just around. Fisk’s trike is really fast--” Fiskerton made a defiant noise. “--okay, okay. He pedals really fast. It’s not the trike’s virtue. Happy?” He puffed his chest out proudly. Zak rolled his eyes. “Anyways, we’ve kind of got a track set up, but we still need to run through it to make sure it’s good.”

“A track?” Rex perked up, leaning over the table. “We could race!”

Zak grinned. “Maybe on the way back-- we gotta show you the way before Fisk can leave you in the dust.”

Rex let out a scandalized gasp. “That’s fighting words, Saturday.” He pointed at Fiskerton. “You’re on.”

Fisk leaned on the Fisker-Trike and Zak sat in the seat added to the back, both watching with amusement as Rex studied it. They had almost built it from scratch at this point, the original shape of the vehicle unrecognizable, and they could soak in a bit of pride at Rex’s awe.

His older brother gave him a quick concerned glance, and Zak raised his eyebrows at him. You sure you want him to come along? You wanted to talk.

Zak nodded and gave him a thumbs up. “What’d he say?” Rex asked, running a hand over the seat.

“He asked if I really thought he could beat a Providence soldier in a race,” Zak said, slipping in the word ‘soldier’ to gauge any reaction. Rex just laughed.

While their guest was distracted looking at the pedal system, Zak waved his fingers at Fisk and caught his attention. He pointed at him and tapped his forehead, a gesture that they’d started using when Zak needed to ask for permission to use his powers on him nonverbally. 

Fisk blinked and gave him a quick nod, and Zak glanced at Rex to make sure he wasn’t looking at either of them before he pushed his thoughts to his brother. Fisk’s eyes glowed orange. I wanna get him talking. We might be able to get some information on how Providence really treats him.

He broke the connection and Fisk nodded. Then he tapped Rex’s shoulder, “huh? Oh, sorry, right,” got him to move away from the pedals, and sat down in the front seat of the trike. Zak held out a hand and helped Rex into the back seat.

“We got seatbelts now,” he said, buckling Rex up.

“‘Now?’”

“You’d think after a few little spills into Florida swamps, we would put them in quicker,” Zak laughed, “but they’re actually our newest addition.”

“Most bikes don’t have seatbelts anyways,” Rex said as Fisk started to get ready to pedal. Zak smirked at the sight of the fur on his back rising like it always did when he was trying to work up his adrenaline and pedal fast.

“This isn’t most bikes. This is the Fisker-Trike. ”

“Technically it’s not a bike or a trike, since it’s got four wh-- EELS!” Rex’s voice pitched as the Fisker-Trike propelled violently forward, speeding down the track. Zak laughed as the wind whipped his face, leaning forward in the seat to catch more air.

The only noise for a few minutes was laughing, giggling, and cheering as they swerved and sped down the forest path. He tilted his head, trying to look at Rex’s face. The wind slicked Rex's hair back and he was grinning, his goggles hastily pulled up to protect his eyes from the wind.

Fisk and Zak always shared their secrets with each other, and one of the best ways to share a secret was to talk on the trike. Nobody to overhear, the wind whipping their hair (and fur), that feeling of freedom and adrenaline really making things that seemed impossible feel easy… It had become kind of a ritual for the brothers at this point; if they ever needed to vent about anything, they'd just go for a ride.

Zak was always a pretty nosy guy. "So, whaddya used to do before Providence?" He asked, raising his voice over the wind.

Rex laughed. "Oh, uh-- I don't know, really!" 

"You just kinda lived around?"

"Maybe?" Rex's smile shrunk a bit and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean, I don't really remember!"

"You don't remember doing things before Providence?" Zak tilted his head curiously, and Fisk was slowing down. They were almost to the part of Weird World furthest from the mansion and the outside world-- which seemed ominous now that he thought about it. 

"Uh," Rex laughed awkwardly, face flushing. "I got amnesia. The first thing I remember is, like…" He looked away, his face falling, staring at the trees in puzzlement. "No, no sé-- I dunno. I like to live in the moment."

Fisk stopped the trike, leaning back in the seat to look at the boys. Zak gave him a smile to let him know we're not making a big deal out of this. Yet. "So you don't remember anything before Providence?"

"Zero, zip, zilch, nada," Rex said with a flourish, pulling his goggles down to hang around his neck. "Doc-- uh, my Doc, Dr. Holiday-- she says it might be 'cause of trauma."

“Like, physical or emotional trauma?”

“Uh,” Rex paused for a moment, looking up. “Emotional. I think. If it was physical it’d have to be a pretty hard hit, I think.”

Zak wrinkled his nose, grimacing. “...Don’t they talk to you about it?”

“Yeah! Of course, they-- I just… I mean, they talk about it when I ask about it.” He rubbed his shoulder, looking away again. “I don’t know. I feel like I ask too many questions already.”

“No such thing,” Zak wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. “Asking questions is the only way you get answers.”

Fisk nodded, giving Rex a thumbs up. Rex smiled again, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, there are other ways, but I get what you mean.”

“Other ways?”

“Looking stuff up online, or snooping around and eavesdropping…”

Zak snorted and laughed. “I mean, you’re asking questions to your search engine. And you’re hardly gonna get a full story from just snooping around and eavesdropping, you also have to confront whoever you’re getting information on… I mean, that’s how misunderstandings happen.”

Rex opened his mouth, then closed it, looking thoughtfully at his hands. “Then can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Zak smiled. An eye for an eye, a question for a question. He could answer Rex’s question, and Rex would feel obligated to answer Zak’s.

“What’s that staff thing hooked to your belt?” 

Zak raised an eyebrow. Staff thing? Hooked to my-- oh! The Claw barely felt like a weapon anymore. It was like an extension of his mind. He unclipped it, jumping off the Fisker-Trike and twirling it like a baton. “The Claw!”

Rex oohed and clapped as Zak held it out, grinning. “What’s it do?”

“Well, it can work as a weapon, but also as a grappling hook, kinda,” Zak pushed the button on the side, the Claw shooting up and wrapping around a nearby tree branch. He pushed the button again, propelling himself upward and landing on a branch above the first. “It’s got other uses, too. It’s versatile.”

He lowered himself to the ground slowly and pulled the Claw down from the tree. Rex rocked in the seat of the trike. “Can I see it?”

Zak smirked. “You can see it right now, right?”

“You know what I mean,” Rex held his hand out. “Please?”

He tightened his grip on the Claw. It felt wrong to let go of it, he practically slept with it under his pillow like a machete, but Rex would probably think it was weird if he didn't let him just hold it. He chuckled, hoping he didn't look nervous, and tossed it to him. "Knock yourself out."

Rex caught it and shook it like he was trying to hear a rattle. He touched the paw and recoiled. "Is this, like, a taxidermy thing?"

Zak forced his teeth not to grind. "It's the Claw," he said vaguely, leaning on a tree. 

He really didn't realize how much he relied on the Claw to focus and strengthen his powers. He could still feel the cryptids around, and he could see Fisk, but they felt weak. It was like he was underwater, with all the sounds from the surface muffled and distorted.

He focused on his breathing, staring at Rex as he fiddled around with his Claw. His Claw was right there, it wasn't stolen, Rex would give it back in a second. The cryptids in the forest were all still here. He'd be able to tell if any of them were hurt. They'd call him.

Rex pushed the button and the Claw propelled into his face, punching him in the eye. "Ow. I should… I should've seen that coming."

Fisk snickered and Zak smiled slightly, but he couldn't laugh. He needed-- he needed his hand back. "You done with it?" He asked, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. 

"Huh? Oh, uh, sure," Rex looked puzzled as he handed it back, clearly thinking about something. Zak clutched his Claw in a white-knuckle grip. Rex was still staring at it.

If not holding the Claw was like being underwater, then holding the Claw was like being able to breathe after having a stuffy nose. Everything was back where it needed to be. "My turn to ask something," Zak said, clipping the Claw to his belt again.

"What is this, twenty questions?"

"Sure, why not? I love having deep conversations about my feelings," Rex laughed and Zak grinned. "Really. It's good to talk about things, y'know?"

"I guess so," Rex scooted over as Zak climbed back into the seat next to him. "Ask away!"

Zak had a trick about talking to people he didn't know well: he never said too much. There were things on a need-to-know basis, and there were things on a you-can't-know basis, and there were things on a if-you-ask-specifically-I'll-tell-you-but-otherwise-you-get-nothing basis. He never offered anyone any information outright. 

Another thing about that trick was the obfuscation of bias or judgment. People will tell you more if they assume you're on their side. This was especially important in Rex's case-- he didn't seem to realize he was in a bad situation. If Zak, or anyone in their family for that matter, let it slip how distrustful they were of Providence, he might think that he was on one side and they were on the other. 

“Can you tell me about Dr. Holiday and Agent Six?” He asked cheerfully, putting an arm up on the back of the trike seat. Fisk was getting up now, heading into the forest to see if he could catch something to bring back.

Rex shrugged. "I mean, what do you wanna know?"

"Well… How'd you meet them?"

Rex was smiling, but his brow twisted and he put a fist to his temple. "Uh… Give me a sec, I remember--" he breathed out slowly, face screwed up. "I think… I think we were in Mexico? Or-- no," he rubbed his forehead and chuckled nervously. "Details are hard-- I think that's technically as far back as I can remember, when I met Six."

"Don't worry about details," Zak said, hoping he sounded reassuring. "It… Is a happy memory, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, it just… It was weird times?" Rex rubbed the fabric of his gloves between his fingers. "The first thing I saw was Six. He helped me run away from some EVOs-- and then he saw me cure one, and he brought me back to Providence…" He furrowed his brow. "He… He introduced me to Holiday first? No, that can't be right… There were probably other doctors there. I just don't remember them." Rex smiled again, staring at his gloves fondly. "She wore her hair down then."

Rex started to rub the fabric of his gloves together gently, his eyes lidded. “Six introduced me to Holiday… Oh!” He jumped, grinning. “I met Bobo first! I mean, after Six. He asked me to let him out of his cage, so I did--”

“His cage??”

“Yeah-- oh, you don’t watch the news, right. Bobo is an EVO chimp, we’re best friends. He asked me to let him out of his cage, so I did, and then Six threw him back in, and then White Knight--” he stopped abruptly, brow furrowing again. “Wait, no, not-- White Knight doesn’t leave his office, why would he be there?”

Rex kept mumbling to himself, and Zak was having a hard time understanding it. “Um--”

“It was probably some other guy, and I’m filling in the blanks with White,” Rex rationalized. “Then Six introduced me to Holiday, probably also other scientists, and then… Then, uh…” His face went completely blank and he stared straight forward. 

“‘Dr. Holiday wore her hair down?” Zak asked quickly, trying to snap him out of it. 

“Huh? Oh, she did! She was really pretty-- I mean, she’s still pretty with her hair up-- she also wore earrings. Maybe she changed her style because she started working in the lab more.” Rex blinked and furrowed his brow again and Zak bit his cheek and prepared to ask him less past-related questions. “My turn: do you know why your uncle was like, ‘it’s his face,’ when he was cured? Because I was thinking about that last night-- like, whose face is it?”

Now Zak was really biting his tongue. “I dunno,” he lied, faking a thoughtful look. “I don’t see people cured often, but isn’t disorientation a common thing?”

There was an answer to the question, of course, and Zak knew it. But it wasn’t information that he could trust Rex with, and it wasn’t his story to tell, anyway.

“I guess so,” Rex muttered. “I dunno, I mean… It’s kinda spooky, right? ‘It’s his face’?”

“Creepy,” Zak agreed half-heartedly. He scratched his wrist, still thinking about the feeling of connecting with EVO cryptids. “What’s it feel like to cure EVOs?”

Rex squinted and put his hand to his chin. “Uh… Hm… It’s like, uh… Sucking up the nanites, kinda? I think, it kinda feels like… Reaching out and grabbing them, and then they all just kinda… Pool in.” He scratched his head. “Oh, you know how like, mint tastes cold, and spicy stuff tastes hot? It’s like that, but at the same time.”

Zak considered it for a moment. “So it doesn’t feel like… Bugs crawling in your skin or anything?”

Rex blinked. “I mean, I guess I can feel the nanites moving. But not only when I’m curing EVOs, it’s basically all the time.” He made a face and scratched his arm. “Aw man, you know when you think about your tongue and you can’t figure out where it goes in your mouth?”

“Sorry,” Zak chuckled. Fisk came back into the clearing, his hands cupped around something, and announced his presence.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Rex waved at him over Zak’s head. Fisk bounded over and gave him a little ta-da! He nodded at Rex, who looked confused.

“Hold your hands out,” Zak said, smirking mischievously. Rex did so and Fisk gently placed a Cameroon flashlight frog into his cupped hands. The frog looked at Zak like it was asking for instructions, or maybe just staring straight forward because it was freaked out at being caught and carried somewhere. Could be either or.

Rex stared at it like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen, and Zak shifted a bit in his seat to see if he would look over. When he didn’t, he leaned back so the glow of his eyes would be out of Rex’s peripheral vision and made eye contact with the frog. It’s safe here. Let your light shine.

The animal shifted slightly in Rex’s hands, relaxing on the gloves, and a dim light shone from its horn. Rex gasped, jumping a bit, and stared even more intensely at the frog, then looked at Fisk. “It glows?? How’s it glowing?”

Zak snorted at that, because Fisk wasn’t exactly a cryptid expert and the idea of someone asking him for information was kind of ridiculous. His brother shrugged, sitting back down on the trike, and Zak picked up the slack.

“Cameroon flashlight frog,” he explained, propping his arm up behind Rex again. “We haven’t really studied exactly what chemicals go into its bioluminescent abilities, but we assume they’re similar to fireflies. They flash to communicate and to ward off predators, especially predators that are sensitive to light.”

“Woah,” Rex held the frog up to his face, looking at it even closer. “You know so much about animals… I always just get bitten or stung or, uh. Spat venom at.” 

Zak shuddered at the thought of the Mongolian death worm. “I was… Raised with animals. I guess it just kinda comes naturally to me.” Not to mention I’m technically the reincarnation of an ancient god who can control cryptids. No big deal or anything. 

“You’re so cool,” Rex said, and he really could have been talking to either the frog or Zak at this point. Zak opened his mouth to respond, but froze when the frog opened its mouth as well.

“Rex--” was all he could get out before the frog’s (extremely toxic) tongue shot out of its mouth, nailing him right in the cheek.

Chapter Text

"Sorry," Zak held a cold pack to Rex's cheek and he took it and pressed it down on the burning spot. "I should've mentioned the tongue. They don't usually use it as an attack against predators, though, it's mostly for killing bugs."

"It's fine," Rex reassured him. "It doesn't even hurt that bad." That wasn't entirely true; it stung something fierce and his entire cheek, from his eye to his chin, felt swollen. He blinked, closing his left eye tighter and just letting himself feel how weird his eyelid felt. "It stings in the middle, but the rest of it is… Numb?"

"The numbness might be caused by your nanites," Zak murmured thoughtfully, digging around in his pockets for something else after this travel cold pack. "The swelling is usually sore and the spot where the frog latched is excruciating." 

"I'm built different."

"That you are," Zak chuckled. "It's interesting, though. The amount of venom that the Mongolian Death Worm spat on you was enough to kill an entire herd of elephants. You… From a statistical standpoint, I mean, you shouldn't be alive."

Rex looked down and then turned his head, staring out into the trees. "I… Thought I was dying when it happened. It hurt really bad, I think…" He tried to call forth memories of the incident. He was awake when it happened, he was screaming, so why was it so difficult to remember? Why was everything so difficult to remember? 

He knew Six was there. He could remember his voice, but not the words he was saying. He sounded… Angry, and that hurt more than the venom did. 

Six was holding his hand. He remembered that part suddenly; while his clothes were being cut off to remove the venom from his skin, his gloves were removed already, and he had Six's hand in a vice grip. He was crying, and Six wiped his forehead with a rag and said something quiet and incomprehensible--

--Come on, Rex. You can do it. Stay with us. He didn't say that, but it came to mind. He remembered hearing the mantra of his weird dreams at the time. 

Rex realized he was drifting when Zak touched his chin and turned his head in his direction. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly parted, and his hand cupped Rex's face gently, tilting it to the side. 

He applied an ointment to his face, rubbing it in slowly with soft pats of his ring and middle finger. Rex took in a breath, trying not to seem like he had stopped breathing for the moment before, and he willed his heart to stop beating so fast before Zak could notice it. 

"Sorry," Zak murmured soothingly as he put away the tube of ointment. "I don't mean to bring up bad memories. You like to live in the moment, right?"

Rex let out a huff of laughter. His cheek didn't hurt anymore, so he just felt the awkward numbness around the spot. "Is it my turn to ask a question?"

Zak chuckled and put a hand on Rex's head, petting his hair back. "I think so."

Rex was taken aback, not only because it was probably weird to be petting a friend, but also because it actually felt pretty nice. He leaned on Zak's shoulder, smiling. "Uh… Do you know why cryptids, like… Flock to this place? Weird World, I mean. Could there be something that calls them here?"

Whatever the Kur Stone was, Holiday said it might draw cryptids like a magnet. If Zak knew anything about it, he'd probably know if it did call cryptids to circle around it like nanites to the Bug Jar. 

Zak propped his arm up on the back of the trike, letting Rex lean into his chest and listen to his heartbeat. In that magazine article about lying, he read that people's hearts beat faster when they lie. That was the only reason he pressed his ear to Zak's chest. Obviously. 

"Cryptids aren't really flocking here," Zak's nanites buzzed and glowed at the side of Rex’s face, his voice drowning them out when he spoke. "Argost collected them. He kept them restrained on the grounds or locked in cages in the mansion, or he used them as guard dogs… All the cryptids that are still here aren't fit to live in the wild. Most of them aren't fit because of the way Argost treated them."

Zak's nanites-- ugh, they don't feel like nanites. What are they? Zak's glow pounded, distinct from his steady heart rate, burning under his skin. "You don't like Argost," Rex murmured, turning his head to look at Zak's face. 

"That's an understatement," he muttered, reaching over to pet Rex's hair again. He, seemingly absent-mindedly, combed his fingers through it. Rex felt… Protected, somehow, like Zak wouldn't let anything happen to him. He closed his eyes. 

Fiskerton said something, and Zak answered, "I know." His furry head bumped against Rex's boot and he huffed.

"You understand him even when he's talking fast," Rex mumbled. Zak stopped stroking his hair suddenly and put his hand back up on the trike. Rex pouted. 

"We grew up together," Zak's glow dimmed to a gentle buzz. "You sorta pick up on accents and language and stuff if you spend a lot of time with them."

Fiskerton tapped Rex's boot for his attention and then raised his finger beside his head, waving it up and down. "Question," he growled.

"Oh, sign language!" Rex leaned forward to look at him, and Fiskerton smirked. He started to sign, and Rex tried to figure out what he was saying. "What… You-- me, What I… Want? Um…"

"What do you wanna do when the war's over?" Zak translated. "Like, when the cure is found and you don't have to be with Providence anymore."

"Oh," Rex furrowed his brow, trying to think of an answer. He never really thought about it-- he didn't remember anything before EVOs and nanites and Providence, and he hadn't thought about what the world would be like. Quiet, probably. 

That was the goal, a nanite-free, EVO-free world. A world where people didn't live in fear of their homes being destroyed by huge monsters or fear of themselves becoming huge monsters, a world where Providence wasn't needed to protect the people, a world where…

A world where Rex wasn't needed. He wasn't really sure what would happen when the war was over. Would Holiday, Bobo, and Six abandon him? Holiday would probably go on to bigger things, like a machine that cured cancer or something, and Six would go do cool spy stuff that he wasn't able to do because Rex was always holding him back. Bobo would go on vacation, and it would probably be a vacation that Rex wouldn't be allowed to go on because he's not of age to drink and gamble. 

Noah might let him stick around. Rex probably wouldn't be able to live at his house, though, there wouldn't be enough room. Would whatever remains of Providence provide him with a place to stay, or would he be thrown on the streets again?

Again? When did he live on the streets in the first place?

"I'll be a deep sea diver," he answered, puffing out his chest in an attempt to seem confident. "Or a basketball star."

"Maybe you'll run into my friend Ulraj," Zak teased, and his hand found Rex's hair again. He relaxed, melting into Zak's shoulder as he was pet again. Maybe he could stay with the Saturdays after the war. Doc gave him their number, and they had plenty of rooms, so maybe…

"Does he play basketball?" Rex asked, and Zak and Fiskerton started laughing. He grinned at the reaction, unsure what he said that was funny, but he was swept up in the laughter too.

“Dr. Saturday,” Rebecca addressed him as she walked into the foyer, hastily writing on the puny notepad with a pen that was almost out of ink. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Blackwell, if possible.”

Doyle Blackwell, FtM, 39 yrs, EVO for ~ 2-3 yrs, cured yesterday. She huffed with frustration as the notepad shifted under her pen and her hand shook, leaving a dark line on the page. She scanned it to make sure it was still legible.

“He might be asleep,” the man muttered, prying himself away from a microscope. “I can show you to his room, but if he’s not awake, you’ll have to wait.”

“What are you working on?” She asked, trying to glance over his shoulder at his notes. 

"What else?" Dr. Saturday peeled his gloves off and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Rebecca kept looking at his notes. "A cure."

"Phenobarbital… Going EVO might look like a seizure, but it's very different. Brain activity while going EVO usually completely shuts down, while in a seizure there are bursts of activity…"

Dr. Saturday came up beside her and picked up the stack of papers, tapping them into a neat pile. "Those are about euthanasia," he said quietly, his brow knit in pain.

"Euthanasia?"

"It hurts, especially since most cryptids are endangered or even classified as extinct, but if the creature is in too much pain or too violent…" He sighed, putting the papers down, and gestured for Rebecca to follow him. "It just gets more complicated with EVOs."

"Their nanites break down drugs too quickly for them to work," she murmured, falling in step with him. "We've had that problem with Rex. He has ADHD and generalized anxiety, but his nanites don't let him be medicated for them." She sighed, rubbing her face with one hand. "And sedatives only really work when he's in overload and his nanites are too busy attacking each other--"

"Overload?" 

Rebecca grimaced. "When Rex cures an EVO, he… I guess you could say he sends out a call to all the active nanites in the EVO to come to him. His nanites usually will break down the outsider nanites and use their materials to build his machines, but if he cures too many EVOs in a short period of time, he goes into nanite overload." She adjusted her bun, tightening the hair tie. "It's why I keep a close eye on his biometrics-- if he's in danger of overloading, we take him out of the field immediately and move him to an offload station."

Dr. Saturday let their footsteps be the only sound for a few moments before he spoke. "What happens to him when he's in overload?"

"His nanites attack each other," she answered, heart hurting as she thought of Rex's choking screams. "It might be minutes before he actually shows symptoms, or it could be days, but his…" She sighed, pressing her palm to her forehead. 

"His?" Dr. Saturday prodded.

"His body will start changing," she bit her thumb nail. "I'm not sure how to explain it. He gets these shifting metal growths that… Writhe on him, and they grow out of his skin and then go back in… It's very painful for him. Six and I sedate him to help stop the growths and we take him to offload." She evened her voice out, straightening her spine. "We then deactivate his nanites outside his body and send them for testing or disposal."

"Sounds like this happens often," Dr. Saturday muttered.

"We take him in for offload every two months. He only overloads if he decides that he knows better than me what his limits are." She grumbled under her breath, "I'm the one with the eye on his vitals twenty-four seven, you'd think he'd know how to listen by now."

"He's a teenager," Dr. Saturday said, then paused. "...My boys are always disregarding instructions. When Zak was twelve, he insisted on getting his own weapon…" He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I… Can see where you're coming from."

"White Knight gets so angry with him for being a child," Rebecca spat, emboldened by Dr. Saturday’s words. "You'd think he only saw Rex as a thing. "

"That's disgusting," he agreed. "Rex has a very important ability, but that's no excuse to treat him like that's all he's good for."

Rebecca smiled, staring at him with undisguised relief. It really shouldn't be so difficult to find someone who understood that Rex had feelings. He caught her eye and cleared his throat. "This is Doyle's room," he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Rebecca knocked, and a muffled, "'s open," came from the door.

Dr. Saturday frowned as Rebecca opened the door. "I'll be back in the lab. Don't stress him out, Dr. Holiday."

"It's a simple interview," she said, closing the door behind her. Blackwell was sitting up in bed, staring at her, and she sat down on the side of the bed. "Good morning, Mr. Blackwell."

"Damn," he said, echoing the exact words he said to her yesterday. "Hey. Have we met before?"

"Yesterday, actually. I'm with Providence; I study nanites and how they work."

"Providence, huh?" He put a hand to his head, leaning forward. "Last I remember, Providence was a good collection of hired guns taking bad pay. I've been out for a while?"

"Two to three years, as I understand it." She opened the notebook, putting the pen to paper. Does not remember cure. "We have funding now, and hope."

"So how'd I get… Fixed?"

Rebecca would be able to ask her questions when Blackwell was done with his. "One of our agents is an EVO who is able to cure most other EVOs. After we arrived, your nephew asked him to cure you."

“Zak?” Rebecca nodded. “Good kid. Great… Great kid.”

She cringed a bit, thinking of the rough meeting she had with Zak. She couldn’t blame him for attacking her-- other people had misguidedly attempted to protect her from EVOs before, whether they be White and his insistence that Beverly was dangerous or the soldier who she tackled when he pulled a gun on Rex when he overloaded the first time… Zak seemed like a great kid, but he obviously didn’t like her or her team, and she could see why. 

“So, uh… Taking notes on me?” 

“Yes,” she answered swiftly, tapping her pen to the notepad. “We’re still studying to find a cure for everyone Rex can’t get to, so we conduct interviews for post-cure EVOs.” Blackwell nodded, so she continued. “You can refuse to answer any of these questions. None of your answers will be shared without your consent. Should we continue?"

"Yep," he sat up straighter, subtly pulling his shirt down to cover his stomach. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the lines of his abdomen. 

She cleared her throat. "Let me know if you simply can't remember the answers to these questions. So, before you went EVO, how healthy would you say you were? On a scale of one to ten."

"Eleven," he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes. "No, I don't know. Six, I guess? I wasn't sick or nothing, but it's not like I had regular check-ups."

She nodded, scribbled down 6, and continued. "In the time before going EVO, did you have any unnatural symptoms? For example, brain fog, nausea, a tingly feeling, or emotional distress for no perceivable reason?" 

Blackwell sighed through his nose, furrowed his brow. "Actually… I got very focused on something before it happened. I don't usually have bursts of motivation, but when I do, they don't usually last more than a couple days. I was focusing on one thing for about two weeks," he shrugged. "I don't know if it has anything to do with going EVO."

"Maybe, maybe not," she scribbled down a short note on that. "Are you or have you ever been addicted to alcohol or other drugs?"

"I'll skip that one."

"Of course." She wrote skip and continued. "Does your family have any history of illness?"

"You'd have to ask Drew about that one," he shrugged. "She actually remembers our parents, so."

“I see.” She left a spot blank to write later, if she could bring herself to talk to Drew Saturday. She was already intimidated by her husband, and Six was intimidated by her. “In the time before you went EVO, did you feel irritable, restless, or consumed by a sense of dread?”

“Kinda,” he ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back out of his face. “Not really. I’ve been worse, mental health-wise, I think.”

No, she wrote down. She sighed inwardly, unsure if she should even try to ask the next question. Blackwell didn’t have the last name, but he was part of this family, and she couldn’t imagine the Saturdays actually answering this question. She might as well just write skip and start with the physical examination. For the sake of professionalism, she should still ask, though… “Did anything specific happen that might have triggered your going EVO?”

Blackwell’s eyes widened and he looked at Rebecca. She smiled gently, readying her pen to write down that he skipped this question--

“I… I found out how my parents died,” he said quickly. “Drew and I both thought they died in a storm, when we were on vacation--” he pressed a palm to his eyelid, breath hitching. “We-- We found out they were murdered. I was--” his voice shifted, a growl rising from his chest, “I was so angry-- ”

Rebecca set the notepad and pen aside and grabbed Blackwell’s hand, holding it gently against her sternum. “Stay calm.”

“Doctor--”

“Breathe with me. Can you breathe with me?” He nodded, swallowing. She clutched his hand, holding his knuckles to her chest, the fingers of her other hand sat on his inner wrist, feeling his pulse and counting each beat even though she had no timer to measure his heart rate. “In for four, out for eight,” she whispered, and started to count for him.

He took deep breaths, slowly relaxing, his fingers wrapping around her hand. He swallowed thickly, putting his head back against the headboard. “I’m not unstable.”

Rebecca tried to stop herself from smirking at that. It would be rude to be amused at such a sad thing. “It’s incredibly common to feel more emotional after being cured, Mr. Blackwell,” she said, moving his hand from her chest to her leg, reaching over to pick up her pen again. “Don’t worry. Your nanites probably won’t reactivate even if you think about the trigger, but in case of the small chance that they did, I don’t have a way to contact Rex…”

She stopped thinking aloud and rested the notepad on her other knee, Blackwell looking over her shoulder, and wrote N/A beside her last question. He let out a relieved sigh. 

“I’d like to get a reading on your nanites,” she murmured, half to herself. “I need to get a sample. I’ll talk to Dr. Saturday about--” she paused, locking eyes with Blackwell. He raised an eyebrow, amused. “What?”

“I’m not complaining,” he said, “but can I have my hand back?”

Rebecca blinked and looked down at their joined hands, blushing. “No,” she found herself saying, then smiled playfully. “I think I’ll keep it, actually.”

“Oh, shoot,” he chuckled. “Well, I guess I, a very attractive man, will be stuck on a very attractive woman forever now. Whatever will I do?”

“Don’t push it,” she chuckled, letting go of his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t really realize I was holding it.”

Blackwell huffed a laugh, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back into the pillows on the bed. “So do you flirt with all your patients, or am I special? Because I think that’s against the code of ethics either way.”

“I’m not a physician,” she bit her lip. “But, um... Yeah, I shouldn’t be flirting with you. Sorry, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Aw, no, I was joking,” he whined. “I don’t care about ethics,” he said, then froze when Rebecca gave him a weird look. “...That came out wrong. Look--”

“Mr. Blackwell--”

“--Call me Doyle,” he interrupted, smiling nervously. “Please?”

She smiled back, just as anxious. “Doyle. I’m sorry for acting out of line--”

“Pretty sure I made the first move--”

“--But I’m in a position of power over you--”

Doyle started to snicker, covering his mouth. Rebecca stopped speaking, confused. He gave her a look that sent shivers down her spine. “Are you?”

She froze, unsure whether she was just flustered or terrified. Why did Six have to plant so much doubt in her mind about this family? He surely didn’t mean anything threatening, but she couldn’t help but feel--

The door opened with a creak and Rebecca jumped, heart racing and hand going to her side for a gun that wasn’t there.

“Van Rook,” Doyle scolded, putting a hand on her knee comfortingly. “Ever heard of knocking?”

His name is Leonidas Van Rook, and he used to be a mercenary and rare animal poacher. She tensed, looking at the man in the doorway. He was… Big, was the first thing she noticed. He was tall and looked strong, he was crossing his arms over his chest and his pecs were pressed together, the fold of his shirt over his chest-- she decided she would not be looking at his body anymore, actually-- he was smirking at Doyle. 

“No,” Van Rook said, leaning against the door frame. “So, moving in on the number’s girl? You got guts.”

Doyle raised an eyebrow. “She’s just asking me some questions about how I went EVO.”

“And you’re answering them?” He tsked, shaking his head. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No wonder you never finished your apprenticeship.”

Doyle furrowed his brow at him, looking completely speechless. “I-- What?” He hid his face in his hands, shaking his head. “Why did Zak invite you? You’re the worst.”

Van Rook chuckled and looked at Rebecca. She stiffened as they made eye contact. “Can I borrow him for a minute, beautiful?”

She wrinkled her nose and picked up her pen and notepad, standing up. “Actually, I’m done with the interview. He’s all yours.” She took a step away from the bed, and Doyle clutched the hem of her coat just before she walked away.

“...I’m sorry about him,” he said finally, letting go of the coat. 

She sighed and smiled at him. “It’s fine. You’re not the one who should apologize, Doyle.”

Van Rook groaned. “Sorry for calling you beautiful,” he said, rolling his eyes and holding the door for her as she walked out. He stopped her, hand gripping her shoulder. “Would you mind taking the pretty boy off my hands? I don’t mind having a shadow in Weird World, but I need to talk with him,” he threw a thumb back at Doyle, “alone.”

“‘Pretty boy’?” Van Rook put a hand on her head, turning her face to look at the place where the hallway turned. Six’s face disappeared behind the wall and Rebecca growled and clutched the notepad in one hand, raising it over her head and running over to him. She slammed the pad over his head and scolded him. “You are supposed to be resting-- You were already up all night, you are not supposed to be walking on that leg, and you’re going to get sick if you aren’t careful!”

Six rubbed the back of his head, frowning and gritting his teeth. She fixed him with a glare and wrapped an arm around his waist, making him lean on her. “I can’t believe you,” she scoffed at him, “you’re going to open up that wound--”

“I can’t rest,” he rasped, voice almost too quiet for her to hear. “We aren’t safe here. I can’t rest.”

She softened, and he put his arm over her shoulder. She could feel how wobbly he was on his feet. She sighed, walking him down the hallway, back toward the room they were staying. “Six,” she murmured, “hey, Six.”

He didn’t look at her, but his hand tightened in the back of her coat. “...Rebecca,” he mumbled, voice barely there. Her face warmed at her own first name. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she scanned the foyer lab for Dr. Saturday and kept walking when she didn’t see him, hurrying in case he came back.

“I know.”

“Rex won’t let anything happen to me, either. And you know I won’t let anything happen to Rex.”

“I know.”

“Then it’s safe,” she murmured. “And you can rest.”

He didn’t answer that, just turned his head toward her and let his cheek brush against her neck. She felt his breath against her collarbone.

“I’ll be right beside you. Okay?”

He sighed quietly, still shaking. “...Right. Okay.” She smiled, keeping his weight off his leg. “...Where’s Rex?”

Drew was becoming irritated.

Deep breaths were harder when you didn’t breathe. Tea stung her and dry tea leaves just fueled her fire. Leonidas, at least, was being considerate. And by that, she meant he was leaving her alone.

She knew she needed to manage her thoughts. Keep herself from drifting away and drowning in her own anger. Now more than ever.

These Providence assholes were making that shit so much harder than it needed to be.

“So both of you last saw him before breakfast?” She asked. And you only noticed he was missing now? 

“He had the, uh,” the scientist paused, beginning to blush. “Um, he asked your… Oldest, to--” What kind of caretakers are you?

“Walk him there. I saw him at breakfast.” It seems like you don’t care at all.

She was being unfair. Nobody could keep an eye on their child every moment of the day, and it would be bad if they did. Everyone deserved their privacy.

And where did that get you, Drew?

“He’s probably out with Zak,” she sighed. The soldier attempted to stand up from the cot. “Down,” she snapped, feeling like she was scolding Komodo. “Zak goes out everyday. I try to tell him to tell us if he leaves the mansion, but he just… Doesn’t.”

The haze rose. She closed her eyes, ignoring the Providence agents in the room. She forced herself to think of her family-- her wedding day, the day Komodo found her, the day Zak had his first steps, the day they found Fiskerton… The day Doyle’s mask was knocked off, and she could see his face for the first time in years.

Agent Six-- that was the soldier’s name, she remembered as the haze fell-- shifted again, and she gave him a glare that sent him back into a reclining position. 

“If they’re not back before dark, then that’s reason to worry, but…” Drew sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, Zak’s not a little kid anymore. He knows what he’s doing out there, and Fiskerton is with him. They won’t let anything happen to Rex.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dr. Holiday said, chewing a thumb nail. Six didn’t look reassured.

He started to-- “Sit. Down.”

He tensed up visibly, lip curling. Dr. Holiday groaned. “I’m sorry about him, Dr. Saturday.”

You should be. “He’s going to hurt himself.”

“I’m fine,” the man ground out, and Dr. Holiday shot him a glare. 

“You’re not,” Drew growled. “You’re injured, and you aren’t letting yourself heal. You need to stay off that leg, and you’re not doing that.” Six was breathing shallowly, coiled up like a spring. He grit his teeth, tightening his fists in the cot’s bedsheets. She knew that feeling too well.

She backed away, knowing full well that this man was threatened by her. He was responding to the fear with anger. He was doing exactly what she would do-- he was doing exactly what she did when Zak first explored Weird World without telling anyone. He was lashing out, even at his partner, because he was scared for Rex.

Scared to lose Providence’s best weapon, maybe, said the angry voice in the back of her head. She pushed it away until Doc could be in front of her to keep her from slipping.

She turned around, not looking at either Providence agent anymore, and cooled down. It was a sensation like holding her breath, painful if she did it for too long, but it cleared her mind and helped her manage her anger and her fire. “If they’re not back by sundown, we’ll search for them. But for right now, without knowing where they are or being able to call them, it’s better for us to stay at the mansion.”

It was what Doc said, when Drew was pacing holes in the floor. He pulled her into his arms and told her that, reassuring her that Zak was responsible enough to know when he was supposed to be back and smart enough to find his way back to the manor. He was right, too, Zak never stayed out past sunset unless there was an emergency that he, Kur, needed to take care of. She peeked behind her at them, the scientist sitting on the side of the cot now.

“They won’t get lost,” Dr. Holiday said, putting a hand over one of Six’s fists. He relaxed slightly at the touch. “The mansion can be seen from above the tree cover. Rex can fly up to find his way back if he needs to.” She tilted his head up with her fingers under his chin, making him look her in the eye. “And if anything attacks them, he’s perfectly capable of defending himself.”

They gazed at each other for a few moments before Six untensed completely, tilting his head into her hand. Drew turned around again. 

She cooled down more, letting the pain in her chest ground her. She attempted to clear her mind. She ignored their hushed conversation.

"I want to wait outside," Six said finally. She appreciated that he was asking-- or, rather, attempting to bargain.

"As long as you stay off that leg," she responded, looking at Dr. Holiday to keep him down. She nodded once. 

Drew nodded back and turned to walk out of the room, back to the foyer lab, where she could watch Doc work and keep herself calm and cool without having to hold her "breath".

Rex, Fiskerton, and Zak had been asking questions for a while. Rex had started out trying to ask things that had to do with the mission at hand-- the Claw, as Zak called it, wasn’t the Kur Stone and it didn’t have the Kur Stone in it. The buttons didn’t do anything except eject the creepy paw thing to use as a grappler or a puncher or something. If Doyle had meant anything when he said “it’s his face,” Zak didn’t know it. 

Cryptids didn’t flock to the area, or at least Zak didn’t think they did. Ulraj did not play basketball, but was instead a fish king guy. Rex was pretty sure that part was a joke, because it made much more sense that he was just a basketball player and Zak was pulling his leg. 

Zak said that Drew didn’t want Rex curing Doyle because she was concerned about hurting him. Rex reassured him that curing EVOs didn’t hurt at all, and he could tell his mom that he was glad that he cured Doyle for them. 

Fiskerton was a nice guy for a freaky-lookin’ animal. (Rex wondered if that would be rude to say-- he felt like if he asked Bobo, he would just tell Rex to say it anyway just to see what would happen. Bobo was a pretty rude guy for a freaky-lookin’ animal.) He actually lit up when Zak asked Rex what his favorite show was and Rex answered El Amor De La Pasión El Amor. Zak said he was really into sappy cheesy romance stuff, Fisk seemed to answer that Zak just didn’t have feelings, and Rex laughed.

(“So, um,” Rex had asked, a little bit later. “You don’t like romance and stuff like that?”

“Oh, I was just teasing Fisk,” Zak laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t really watch anything that’s like, about romance, but love's good when done right. You know?”

Rex smiled, glowing. “Yeah. I get you.”)

Apparently, before moving into the mansion, the Saturdays travelled constantly. Zak even told him where they used to live, which might be good information for Rex to try to look into. Maybe there would be some information about Argost or the Kur Stone there-- or the Saturdays had nothing to do with either of them and the lead would be a dud. Rex was considering checking it out anyway, sneaking out and flying there. He was pretty fast, and if he did it while he was supposed to be keeping watch… 

Well, it wasn’t like they actually needed someone to keep watch. The Saturdays were fine people.

Rex watched Zak shield his eyes and look at the setting sun, sucking in his breath through his teeth. “Aw, man... We stayed out pretty late.”

The golden light of the sunset reflected beautifully in Zak’s eyes. “It’s nice weather out here,” Rex mused, “your family travelled a lot, right? Do you have any camping gear? I’ve always wanted to go camping.”

Zak barked a laugh, a humorless one, that caught Rex off guard. “No, absolutely not. Camping in Weird World sounds like Hell, especially at night.”

Rex was quiet for a moment, watching as Fiskerton glanced back at them. His fur was sticking up. “...I don’t get it,” he said finally, his brow furrowed. “Why-- I mean, every-- what makes this place so bad?? It’s beautiful here! It-- it’s kinda dark, sure, but--”

“But it’s Weird World.”

“Is it just because the show was creepy? You said the animals here are just animals, isn’t it just the same as bears or mosquitos or--”

Zak took Rex’s face in his hands and that quickly shut him up. His eyes still glowed with the orange light of the sunset, his hands were calloused and gentle against his jaw, he was so close…

“The animals here will gnaw on your bones,” Zak said, voice low and almost threatening-- threatening in the way that Six was, the way that Rex could somehow always tell didn’t mean he was threatening him. “And I wouldn’t be able to stop them.”

“Okay,” Rex’s voice came out softer and higher-pitched than he would like. “It was… Just an idea.”

Zak let go of him and he pulled back a bit. “Sorry, I got a bit… Intense,” that was an understatement. He was quiet for a moment. “Do you… Not want to go back to your, uh… Team?”

“Huh? No,” Rex realized after he answered that he was lying, and quickly amended that. “I mean, I don’t-- I lost track of time, so they’re gonna be all, like… They’re gonna be disappointed in me, I think.”

“You can blame me for that,” Zak said. “Tell them I had you come out here with me.”

“But then they won’t want me to hang out with you anymore.”

Zak’s eyes widened and he looked concerned, but he quickly smiled and patted Rex’s back. “Look, it’s-- I’ll talk to them, okay?”

“...Okay.”

“We really should head back to the manor before it gets dark.”

Rex smirked and prodded Fiskerton’s shoulder. “Hey. Still up for that race?”

He laughed gruffly and stood up, opening a compartment under his seat. He pulled out a pair of round green goggles and stopped smirking when he looked at the back seat of his trike. He pulled on the goggles, making some small noises at Zak.

“What? Come on,” Zak said. Fiskerton protested, waving his arms around. “It’s-- do you want me to walk?” Fiskerton shook his head quickly and put a hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“What’s up?” Rex asked.

“He said I’ll slow him down if you two race,” Zak answered, amused. “Which is, uh, kinda fair, considering--”

“What if you ride with me?” Rex said, definitely not thinking about Zak hugging his waist, clinging tight so he wouldn’t fall off-- stop. “I-I mean, like, um. Um. It’s-- I have motors, I’m not worried about not beating Fiskerton, because I’m gonna! I’m gonna win, so, like. And! And you could tell me if I’m going the right way-- I’m not good with directions--”

“If you’re okay with that,” Zak shrugged, and when he looked away from Fiskerton, the creature winked at Rex. 

Oh, that sly dog.

Rex pulled his goggles on quickly, causing Fiskerton to do the same. He built out his Rex Ride and smirked at Zak. He smirked back, climbing onto the back of the ride and, just like Rex had imagined, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

Oh, Rex thought belatedly. I’m bisexual.

Fiskerton started counting down and Rex revved his-- well, himself? His engines. 

Zak’s breath was soft against his ear. Fiskerton called go. 

Rex flew down the track, his heart racing, and a grin spread across his face. He was right-- adrenaline never did get old. Dust flew up around them in clouds. Zak leaned in and pressed his chin to the crook of Rex’s neck.

“Left,” he said in a low voice, tickling his ear and sending a shudder down Rex’s spine. He quickly swerved to the left, keeping himself on the path.

For someone without engines, Fiskerton was keeping up with them pretty well. Zak clung tighter, pressed his face into Rex’s back as he sped up, and Rex could feel his grin.

They both started to laugh. Zak blew a raspberry back in his brother’s direction. Fiskerton yelled something that Rex could barely hear over the wind, let alone understand. 

Rex was just ahead enough that he knew he was gonna win the race, and he grinned at the idea of actually winning a game against a friend, and then they came up on the mansion. 

Six was outside, attempting to look like he wasn't trying to get off the cot that they clearly wheeled out for him. His face was set in a flat disappointed look-- a look that was much worse than the look he usually got when he snuck out to play basketball with Noah-- and Rex's heart dropped to his stomach.

And his build dropped off his body.

He twisted instinctively, grabbing Zak in a hug so Rex would take the brunt of the fall as his ride dissolved and broke under him. He rolled onto the ground violently, his head slamming against hard dirt, and he slid to a stop with Zak on top of him.

"Are you okay?!" He climbed off of Rex. "What happened?!"

Rex blinked, staring up at him. His chest hurt. He couldn't move, he couldn't answer-- Six was upset with him, so he couldn't speak. He blinked again, a knot in his throat. "Ow." He swallowed, getting his bearings. "I'm okay. Nanite levels dropped-- are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Zak was giving him a look. That one kinda look that Holiday gave him when something was wrong. "You, uh. Kinda broke my fall."

"...Yeah, that was the goal."

Zak sighed and pulled Rex to his feet, his arms wrapped under Rex's shoulders. He started to brush dust off of his clothes and muttered, "you got your clothes all ripped up."

Rex's eyes stayed locked on Six. He was sweating profusely, if the shine of his skin in the sunset was anything to go by. He also looked a bit pale, but Six kind of always looked a bit pale. "Sorry," Rex said to Zak, not really thinking.

Zak was quiet for a few moments and Rex could practically feel his stare on his cheek. 

Wait, that was the frog tongue spot. He forgot about that.

Fiskerton broke the silence, running over and babbling incoherently. He leaned over Rex, giving him a once-over and maneuvering him as he saw fit. 

Six had flinched when Fiskerton approached Rex, and now he was breathing heavily. Was he mad? There were a few emotions that Rex hadn't been able to find on Six yet. Rage was one of them-- he got irritated, sure, but never angry. 

Rex swallowed, feeling cold. If Six was mad, then… If Six was mad at him--

Zak squeezed his shoulder and started to walk towards Six, and Rex wordlessly followed. He remembered what Zak had said before, that he could hold his hand whenever he wanted, and he did as they approached.

Six raised an eyebrow at Rex when they were close enough for him to tell that his caretaker was shaking ever-so-slightly. That was a question, a please explain what you were doing thank you, and Rex opened his mouth to answer. He floundered and opened and closed his mouth like a fish, panic rising in his chest.

If Six was mad at him, then Rex couldn't live with himself. He couldn't move. His nanites would flatline. Anyone being upset with Rex hurt him, it hurt him an embarrassing amount, but Six-- Six being disappointed was immobilizing.

He didn't know why.

Six glared at Zak as Rex started to breathe faster, trying to focus on the thrumming glow in his skin. "What did you do?" Six asked finally, accusatorially, and he was still looking at Zak.

"We were hanging out," he said smoothly, only a hint of shame in his voice. "We lost track of time. Sorry."

Six still glared at Zak. “I was under the impression that the forest is dangerous. Is that right, Zak? ”

Zak’s lip twitched like he was trying to keep himself from baring his teeth. “It--”

“It is,” came Zak’s mother’s voice from behind Six. Immediately Six jumped, flicking his wrists to unsheathe the swords that weren’t there, and Drew walked up to stand beside him. Rex was pretty sure she was giving Zak a Look.

“We stayed together,” Zak muttered, not looking at her. Rex’s gloves were getting gross against his hands and slimy with sweat, but he didn’t let go of Zak’s hand. He was afraid if he did, he might blank out.

Not entirely, or anything, but… Sometimes he forgot. It wasn’t the same as when he first-- well, when he last forgot, the complete loss of everything, but. Sometimes he would be walking alone through the hallways of Providence, and then someone would find him and tell him people had been looking for him for hours. And he’d be on a different floor of the building, and he wouldn’t remember--

He squeezed Zak’s hand.

“I had my phone on me,” Zak’s voice came again, and Rex realized that he had missed some of the conversation. Carajo. “If you were so worried, you could’ve asked Mom or Dad to call me. ”

“I need a direct line to Rex at all times. His communicator was broken, so I need him to stay close--”

“Shush!” Drew interrupted, shutting him up, then turned to Six. “You. Get off that leg, and stay off that leg. I will tie you down.” Six swallowed. She turned to Zak. “When you leave the mansion, tell someone. Just because Fisk or Komodo is with you is no excuse to run off without saying anything. And Rex--”

Something about her tone of voice and the fact that Six was still-- he was still there, he was upset with Rex-- and she was also upset-- and--

He was in the sky. His eyes were burning painfully, as he had apparently been flying without his goggles for a couple minutes now. From above, he could see the trees that blanketed the grounds, the mansion sticking out like a sore thumb, and the fog that covered everything the plants didn’t.

His engines roared in his ears. He was weightless, sounds far away, eyes stinging and vision blurry with tears. 

He rolled midair and stared straight up, at the open sky above him. He could see the first evening star.

Chapter Text

Rex breathed the thin air sharply, clarity rolling over him in waves. He was overreacting. When was he not overreacting? When he was underreacting. He never had an appropriate reaction to anything. He was stupid, why did anyone put up with him?

He stared at the sky, at the first star. He blanked out. He blanked out, and he ran away from the mansion. He ran away from Six. He'd run away before, so why now did he feel so heavy?

What did Holiday say the last-- well, one of the times he blanked? Five, four, three, two, one…

Five things he could see. The star, the sky… Does the sky count? It… Probably does. The clouds. If he rolled over, he could see the trees. His own hand in front of his face. That was five-- right? He looked at his hand closer, counting on his fingers: star, sky, clouds, trees, hand-- why are my fingers splayed out? Five, it was five.

Deep breaths.

Four things he could feel-- The wind. The burning in his eyes, telling him he should really pull down his goggles. The distinct feeling of not having his goggles on his head. His gloves sticking slimily to his hands with sweat.

Three… hearing. The wind again. There was only the wind. His engines, maybe. He opened his mouth and forced a noise out. He could hear himself. 

Two things he could smell. The evening, the early night scent of humidity and cooling air. He could almost still smell Zak's hair, too.

One taste. Iron.

His throat hurt and he swallowed, turning to head back to the mansion, but then he noticed something near the edges of the grounds.

The fog was thick and murky in the area, but Rex flew over to the notable object. A large stone statue sat in the center of the fog, the image of a man much larger than Rex holding up some sort of sickle with a circle on the end of the handle. 

He landed, his wings shrinking back into his body, his boots sinking into the ground. The surrounding area was still shrouded in fog, but he could make out the statue better now.

It was V.V. Argost holding the weird, blunt sickle. Rex turned slowly, looking around at the other statues surrounding him-- all variations of Argost and that odd sickle in different famous statues’ poses.

It was creepy. It was really creepy. He reached forward to touch the statue and narrowed his eyes, then knocked on it.

It was papier-mâché. He let out a shaky sigh. “Right-- duh, Rex, it’s… It’s a TV show set. Duh.”

He tilted his head back, looking up at the face of the “tombstone”. “How much did you pay the set designers, man?” He asked the missing/dead masked man, shaking his head. “It wasn’t enough. This entire set-- it’s literally insane.”

He stared up at the statue for a couple moments before sighing and tugging his gloves off, wiping his palms on his jeans. He was alone, he realized, which meant by the time he got back to the mansion it might already be sunrise, because he couldn’t keep track of anything. He leaned back against the statue, taking a deep breath.

"Talk," he said aloud to himself, turning and pressing his forehead to the statue. "If you're talking, you won't forget. You won't be able to. Just fill each moment with sound, and if you blank out, you'll…" He paused and hit his head against the stomach of the papier-mâché. "You'll run back your words in your head. Remember what you were doing."

He sighed. "Good idea, me. Rex surveyed the weirdo statues," he narrated aloud, looking around. He walked over to another one, an image of Argost leaning over with his hand to his chin like the thinker statue. "They're all weird. Even weirder is that they're still… here?" He looked up above the set, noticing some sort of residue hanging off the branches. 

"I see the, uh, stuff. Hanging off the trees. One of them is connected to… Huh. Weird." He forgot for a moment that he wasn't wearing gloves, reaching out and touching the string that clung to the tree and the statue. "Silk?" The thought sprang to mind, the way the water clung to the string reminded him of a spider's web. And each of the statues, he realized, was encased in the web--

"--Like flies." He went quiet, staring at the mix of papier-mâché and what he assumed was spider web with awe. "There… Might be an EVO like Doc's sister here. That's probably not good."

He didn't move to leave, though. He stared up at the facsimiles of V.V. Argost that stood before him, effigies created to make the graveyard part of the set pop. He approached one, touching the surface cautiously, nervous that his hand would stick to it. It didn't. 

"'Emma Gonner.' Oh, I get it," he smiled, realizing he had been nervous. He turned to look at another one. "'Earl E. Demise.'"

He snickered, fear undone by stupid puns on fake gravestones. "'Barry M. Deep', 'I.M. Wormfood'… He totally didn't make all these up himself. 'Hugh Thanasia'…"

He stopped, feeling cold again as he laid eyes on one of the nearby statues. Nothing specific stood out about the effigy itself-- it was Argost, kneeling in place, holding the same sickle-shaped object close to the ground. As if he meant to bury it. 

"Talk," he told himself quickly, shaking his head. He couldn't stop thinking. He already forgot tonight, he couldn't do it twice. "There's a hole. It's been here a while. There's rainwater pooling in it. It's a deep hole," he said to himself, not looking at the statue. That would make it real. "It's almost perfectly rectangular. Like a real--" he swallowed. "Like a real grave."

He pinched himself, staring into the empty grave. "There's-- it's moving. Worms. Not completely empty grave." He swallowed again, his mouth impossibly dry. "This is a joke. H-he probably just-- set this up to prank his brothers, or something," he scratched his face, the burning spot where the frog licked him. He scratched it hard, even though nothing itched. "Que demonios…"

He laughed nervously, staring at the words printed in the statue. "That's-- it's funny! It's a good joke," he swallowed again. He was afraid he might explode. He read the words printed on the statue aloud, trying to truly find the humor in them.

"'Here lies Zak Saturday. His soul will not rest.'" 

Rex leaned forward onto the statue, wondering if he was dreaming. Where were the shadowy figures when he needed them? The man who told him that he could do it, he could stay with them? He didn't feel like he was able to stay. He didn't feel like he was able to leave, either. 

Something squirmed against his leg, just above his boot.

He felt a sharp pinch and then his blood was being siphoned out.

He shrieked, an incredibly manly sound, and slapped his leg. He kicked violently, fell backwards to the ground, and realized as he did that the ground was flooding with squirming, writhing masses of thick caterpedes. They wrapped around his wrists and fingers, digging their sharp mandibles into his skin.

"No, no, no-- agh! " He kicked and flailed roughly, grabbing the brightly colored blue and yellow worms and tugging them off of him. Small chunks of skin tore off with the bugs, but getting the teeth out was enough of a relief that he couldn't be bothered to remove them more carefully.

He built his Punk Busters, the metal shielding his soft skin from the teeth. He jumped at least thirty feet, still trying to throw the bugs off. He dropped the huge boots and opted for wings, keeping himself above the graveyard set that was now crawling with attention that hadn't been there before. 

Rex took deep breaths, small shouts still escaping his lips as he tore off more of the bugs that had attempted to dig in-- he stung in so many different spots, there had to be-- Ten? Twenty? 

"No free meals!" He yelled, chucking away one that dug its head into his upper arm. He felt something cold crawling down his other arm and grabbed it--

He yelped as he slapped himself and looked down at his arm. Blood trickled down it from where he had torn one out, the crawling simply being his own--

"It's so hard getting blood out of this chaqueta , too…" He muttered to himself, flying up higher. 

The worms were swarming the ground, an almost psychedelic mess of shifting yellow and blue, shimmering in the evening light. It would be beautiful if his body wasn't aching at each bite. He hovered overhead, almost expecting them to start sprouting wings and flying at him. 

He would have to explain these bites to Six when he got back. Six was disappointed in him for running off once today--

Rex's stomach dropped, and with it, his wings. He groaned as he started to fall. Stupid nanites. Stupid emotions, stupid flatlining, stupid-- 

Maybe I should ask to try therapy.

Something grabbed the back of his shirt and jacket, stopping him midair and choking him just a little. He quickly grasped upwards, blindly grabbing onto whatever caught him so that if his clothes ripped, he wouldn't keep falling. 

He wrapped his arms around something feathery, like a big bird. It dropped its grip on his shirt, letting him wrap his arms around its neck. 

It chattered, flailing its wings, and Rex got a good look at its face. It was some kind of dinosaur, with a long… Snout? Beak? Two big batlike wings, and…

Rex swallowed nervously, making eye contact with the dinosaur's glowing orange eyes.

Mom stared up at the trees, at the spot where Rex disappeared. "Shoot," she muttered finally, putting a hand over her face shield. 

"You scared him," Zak muttered, then grit his teeth. "I'll go see if I can find him--"

"You will not," Mom crossed her arms, standing in the way. "The sun's going down."

"I'll be careful," Zak bit his tongue, glancing at Agent Six, who was still standing up. I can keep them under control, he thought, hoping his mom would understand. Rex gets attacked by even the most docile creatures. I need to protect him. 

"Doc and I will find him," Mom said with a tone of finality. "You and Fiskerton go inside."

"I can take care of it," Zak's eye twitched. A hundred yards away, a bare-fronted hoodwinker saw something frightening fly over, and was now asking Kur for reassurance. These birds were so easily spooked. "I need to--"

"Go inside, Zak," Six interrupted him, limping over to stand beside Mom. "When Rex runs off, he usually runs pretty far. You're not going to catch up to him without a vehicle."

She huffed angrily. "Zak, Fiskerton, I will take care of Rex. You two take this man inside and make him lay down." 

Agent Six and Mom then shared a glare. Neither of them could make eye contact with the other, but they didn't seem to care. Across the yard, Fisk waved to get his attention and tapped his forehead. 

Zak glanced around and then mimed rubbing his eyes, connecting to Fisk. 

You have a vehicle. Fisk thought at him, then made a so-so gesture. Kinda. 

Might not be a good idea to go on the trike. It's… It's loud, under the canopy. 

Fisk shook his head and smirked, pointing straight up. Remember who's in town?

Zak blinked away the connection. He thought for a moment, then grinned and gave Fisk a thumbs-up. 

Mom and Agent Six had started arguing, but Zak ignored them and hooked his thumb and index finger, putting them in his mouth. He whistled loudly, interrupting them.

Agent Six looked bewildered. Mom slapped a hand over the face shield again, apparently also having forgotten Zon was here. 

"Sorry, Mom," Zak said, listening for the beat of wings overhead. He held his arms out so Zon would be able to simply scoop him up. "But Rex isn't good with animals." His sister was nosediving for him now, and Zak felt like a little more information was needed. "Even docile ones. He got licked by a flashlight frog earlier."

Zon grabbed him with her feet, hoisting him up into the air. Zak missed the old control bar, but he didn't have the time to put it on her right now. He reached and held onto her legs while she held onto his shoulders, trying to position himself in a way that would minimize drag. 

"Are you alright if I control you?" He asked her, not wanting to go through all the trouble of getting and giving directions. She cawed softly in response, a sort of, you know I don't care. 

He connected with her and reached out to the forest to connect to others, anyone who might have seen, smelled, or heard Rex fly by. 

There was a big flying thing. It was way closer to us than the other big flying things, too, it was really loud.

I wanted to fly in his face, but I didn't. Did I do good? Did I? Kur? Zak?

Zak sighed fondly. Yes. Thank you for not getting him hurt. 

There was something that was both funny and uncomfortable in the cryptids they kept preening themselves in Zak's approval. He was glad they seemed to like him, but it was still odd.

My lord , Zak bit his tongue at the silky voice in his head. I saw a flying human. Are you looking for it?

"Yes ma'am," he said flatly. "I'm looking for that one."

I saw it headed for the northeast corner of Weird World, Zak almost rolled his eyes. Even she was preening in his attention. Towards the nest. 

"Your nest?" He blew out a sharp breath through his teeth. "I'm sorry, your excellency-- he's not in his right mind--"

No, our nest is secure. I believe it's over the devonian annelid nest right now. 

"Oh." Zak grit his teeth, dread settling in his stomach. " Oh. Can you see him now?"

The lookout can. 

Another voice, this one slower and deeper, in his head. It'sss flailing. I believe it was bitten, though it seemsss consciousss.

"Right, right. Of course." Devonian annelids rendered their victims unconscious with an airborne tranquilizer, then they killed by sucking the blood and energy from the sleeping victim. Rex wasn't even affected by Mongolian Death Worm venom, so it made sense… "Thank you, Rani Nagi."

My pleasure, my lord. One more debt paid.

He disconnected from her before muttering, "yeah, and you'll ask another favor before the week is out."

He steered Zon to the graveyard, where the devonian annelids lived. They were possibly the most dangerous of the animals in Weird World-- or maybe Zak just had bad experiences with them-- and there were far too many in the nest for the Saturdays to get rid of them. Besides, they were… Technically endangered. They were extinct in the wild and only existed in captivity here, and Zak had no clue how Argost could possibly have gotten them. 

Still, they were quick eaters, and when they were in groups they didn't really care about what Kur had to say. If Rex didn't have a resistance to venom, he'd probably be either dead or disfigured now. It hadn't even been that long since he ran off.

Zak could see him now, flying well over the canopy with two large jet engines grown out of his back. Zak could-- well, Zak couldn't smell the blood, but Zon could, and he was still controlling her to an extent. Rex was bleeding, so he had probably already been bitten, and he still seemed as alert as ever. 

Well, he seemed alert, until the jet engines started to fall apart, sending him plummeting towards the ground. Zak nosedived, grabbing Rex's shirt in his mouth, letting Rex turn and wrap his arms around his neck.

Well, Zon's mouth, Zon's neck, actually. Zak dropped his connection with her and she flew away, heading to the edge of the graveyard to land. Rex was staring at Zon with awe, arms wrapped around her neck and legs clinging just over her wings. Zak cleared his throat from his position holding onto her legs. 

"Hey, Rex. Uh. Meet my sister."

"Huh." Rex blinked. He swallowed, then hugged her neck tighter-- Zak could tell he was trying not to strangle her, but he also didn't want to loosen his grip in case he fell right back into the evil nest. "M-mucho gusto."

Zon cawed once, both a greeting and a complaint that the two of them were way too heavy for flying. They landed outside the graveyard, where the devonian annelids were fenced in. The area surrounding was safe, the spired graveyard fence extending underground and wrapping the area in a dome so they couldn't burrow beneath the barrier. 

Zak would admire Argost's foresight, but he spent too much of his life already admiring the man who ruined (and was still ruining) his life. 

Zak's feet touched ground first and Zon landed next, Rex still wrapped around her. Zak put his hands on his back and under his knees, coaxing him to let go. Rex let himself fall almost limply into Zak's arms and he knelt, putting Rex on the ground.

"They can't go outside the graveyard," he murmured in his animal-soothing voice again. Rex relaxed, flopping down on the ground with a thud. 

"Creepy bugs. You should bleach the place."

"They're endangered."

"Yo tambien," he scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing blood across his cheek. "Necesito una ducha. Ah…" He looked at his hand in front of his face, blinking slowly. "Dónde… Where my gloves?"

"I don't know," Zak reached over to take his hand and investigate it for wounds. "How many times were you bitten?"

Rex grunted an "I'unno," letting Zak twist his hand. One, two… three bites, just on this hand alone. And he hadn't been careful taking out the mandibles. "Where are…" He put a hand over his eyes and groaned. "The. The eyes. The eye things, over my-- goggles!"

"They're around your neck," Zak said, putting Rex's hand down on his chest and reaching over to look at the other one. "You might have a concussion."

"No, I just-- I got… My nanites flatlined, and spiked, and flatlined again… 'S different from a concussion, it's just like… It's… How did Doc… I-it'll fix itself. It's fine."

"The fluctuation of nanite levels scrambled your brains?"

"I'm normal."

Zak snorted. There were five bites on this hand. There were probably more under his clothes, too. "We should get you back to the mansion, in any case--"

"Zak! Rex!" Dad's voice came from the forest, and Zak just barely rolled them out of the way before the Fisker-Trike slammed through the shrubbery and into the graveyard fence. 

"Sorry!" Fisk yelled, fur fluffed up and making him look like he went through a car wash. Huddled behind him were Mom, Dad, Dr. Holiday, and notably not Agent Six. 

Dr. Holiday stumbled off the trike, shaken, and ran over to Rex's side. "Are you alright?! Oh, God, you're bleeding…" She tucked the edge of her sleeve over her thumb and licked it, then started to rub some of the blood from his face. "What happened?"

"I'm normal," Rex said at the same time that Zak said, "he fell in the devonian annelid nest."

"Devonian annelid?"

Dad walked over, kneeling beside Rex on Zak's side. "Holdover from the Devonian period. They're extremely resilient flesh-eating centipedes." He put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "They naturally create a tranquilizer that knocks out or kills their prey, and then they feed--"

"--But Rex's nanites break down tranquilizers, so he wasn't knocked out," Dr. Holiday finished. She looked at Rex. "But your nanites flatlined twice, so you might be feeling the effects of it now. Can you stand?"

Rex stared at her for a moment. "...I'm normal."

She softened at that, though Zak couldn't imagine why, and she picked him up bridal style, letting his cheek lean against her chest. His eyes fluttered closed. 

"'s Six mad at me?" He mumbled, almost too quiet for Zak to hear. 

"Of course not."

"How do you know?"

"I can read him better than you can, Rex," Zak watched her hold him closer, carrying him to the trike, her face flushed with the effort. 

Oh, he thought, taking a deep breath. She does love him. 

Zak glanced at the trike. Fisk was already overworking himself carting around everyone else, if his clumsy parking job was anything to go by. He turned to his dad. "I'll fly back with Zon. Is that okay?" 

Dad grimaced a bit, but glanced at Fisk and seemed to come up with the same conclusion. "Yeah. Be careful, alright?"

"I'm always careful."

Dad gave him a look, a long-suffering look, and leaned down to kiss his temple. "Of course you are. How could I forget." He turned, looking over at the fence, and Zak followed his gaze to where Mom was standing.

She stared listlessly at the graveyard, and Zak swallowed uncomfortably. The graveyard was full of statues of Argost. The devonian annelids hollowed them out and used the material for their nests, and they hadn't bothered removing them because the annelids would break them down anyway. What would be the point of disturbing them just to get rid of a few eyesores? 

But Mom hated V.V. Argost, possibly even more than Zak did. More than Zak ever could. Maybe even more than Doyle. She avoided the graveyard like the plague, and now she was focused on one spot in it. 

Zak tried to follow her gaze, but all he could see was a hole in the ground he had never noticed before. 

"Drew," Dad said, walking over to her. His tone was steady, laced with an urgency that was the only tell of his growing panic. "Drew, we're heading back."

In response, Mom only let out a low sob.

The hair on the back of Zak's neck stood on end, and he sent a message to Fisk. Get them to the mansion. Tell Komodo to come.

Fisk didn't complain about the breach of privacy. Dad, he thought desperately.

"Dad," Zak reached out, feeling the air near his mom becoming warm. Not uncomfortably warm yet, but-- "Dad, we have to go."

"Get Komodo, Zak," Dad said, not moving. 

"Fisk'll get him," Zak said, and pushed Fisk to start pedaling back to the mansion. "Dad--"

Mom wailed loudly, drowning out even Zak's thoughts. His mind flooded with the scared creatures praying to him, asking what that was. Zak grabbed his dad's arm and tugged as his mom's temperature suit started to melt.

The temperature suits could stand up to twelve-thousand degrees Fahrenheit. She was melting it from the inside out.

Dad finally moved, wrapping his arms around Zak and lifting him, diving away from Mom in a panicked blur. "Dad," Zak choked out, hugging his father back as he shaded him from the blinding light and the heat , "there's a pond-- not many creatures, it's where the naga bathe to shed their skin. It's not far."

"Right," Dad said, swallowing. He held Zak on his hip like he was a child again, and he didn't let go. "Where is it?"

"Half a mile that way," he pointed, then connected with every cryptid in the way to warn them of incoming danger. "I'll clear the path."

"Gonna knock down some trees."

"I know," he said softly, apologizing to any animals that were nesting in the area. 

Mom had thrown herself into the graveyard, lashing out at the statues and leaving them as burning piles of paper and Munya web. The devonian annelids fled underground. Zak needed a distraction of some sort, something to get her out of the graveyard and chasing them.

He took a deep breath and shoved the Claw into his dad's hand, telling him to lead the way while Zak hung onto him and kept her attention. He hooked his chin onto Dad's shoulder, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting--

"Greetings and bienvenue!"

Mom froze her rampage and her head snapped around, seven eyes full of rage meeting Zak's gaze. She had grown larger, more animalistic, similar to what Doyle had looked like. 

Then she started to pursue, on all fours, and Dad grappled a tree branch and started to fling them in a straight line towards the pond.

"I cannot believe that worked," Zak said numbly into his dad's shoulder, and Dad huffed out an out-of-breath laugh. 

Zak clung tighter, watching his mother's face as she chased them. How did she look so different, but so recognizable? 

They slammed into the pond before Zak could even realize they had gotten that far, and he coughed when his dad pulled him above the surface of the water. He plucked a huge piece of shed off his face, his nose scrunched in disgust.

Then Mom fell in and the area was full of steam and the wailing of a scared animal. She rolled over, attempting to soothe her legs, but only succeeded in getting her back wet as well. Zak cringed-- he knew how much water hurt her now, how it stung and burned, but it was the only way to cool her down. If she was running too hot, then she wouldn't be able to hear over the sound of her own flames. 

"Drew!" Dad started wading toward her in the water that came up to his chest. "Drew, look at me!"

She did, blinking rapidly. She let out a low moan of pain.

"I know. It's going to be okay," he reached up to cup her face in his hand. Zak winced at the sizzling sound that came as his wet palm touched her skin.

Dad didn't move, didn't recoil at the pain. He held eye contact with Mom, and she started to shrink.

The muzzle disappeared, moving back into her flat face, and she stood up on two legs. She sobbed as the water reached up to her chin, and Dad lifted her to carry her onto the shore. 

She shivered as Dad put her on the ground. She would warm up quickly, but right now she probably felt like she was buried in snow naked. Zak swam over to climb up beside her and use her warm to dry off. 

Dad was taking the slow even breaths that always meant that something was wrong. Mom stared blankly at the sky. Komodo was at the graveyard, but he could see the path Mom had left and he would be there shortly.

"Thought I lost you there," Dad finally murmured, and Zak could see he was hiding the palm of the hand he touched her face with. "Was it… Just the statues?"

"No," she said quickly, shutting four of her eyes but leaving the other three open. "No, it was… There was--" she stopped, seemingly just noticed Zak sitting beside her, and closed the rest of her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Zak murmured, trying to comfort her. "I… I lose control sometimes too."

"You get it from me."

"Dad also loses control sometimes."

She snorted at that, like the sentence was funny. "Yeah, I bet, sweetheart. Name one time your daddy wasn't in control."

Zak looked at his dad. He made eye contact, and let his gaze flick to the burnt hand. Dad looked away. 

Zak plastered on a smile. "You got me. Dad always knows what he's doing."

Six attempted to push himself into a sitting position again. He attempted to lift his legs, even though just flexing the muscle ached. He could barely even fidget uncomfortably-- he was strapped down with foam belts around his chest, hips, and ankles. 

His eyebrow twitched. He reached up to try to take off the belt, but a hand smacked his wrist.

"Should I need to strap your arms in, too?" Leonidas asked, exasperated. Maybe he had a right to be. Fifteen escape attempts in as many minutes was something he'd been irritated with Rex for before. 

He ignored that thought and glared back, saying nothing.

"They've this whole library if you're bored," he held up the book he was reading, showing the navy blue cover. There wasn't a title or an author's name on it. "Nothing interesting, but good pictures."

Six couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "...Library?"

"Mostly just information about cryptids," Leonidas turned the book around to show him a pencil sketch of a bug. "It's not that big, now that I think of it. They keep all their notes on the computers now, save the paper and all. Paper's expensive, too, not a bad plan…"

Six stared at the ceiling, listening closely to the sounds around him. The bugs sounded louder now-- were they more active at night? Leonidas flipped a page. Six wanted to break free and stab him through the eye. 

"Give me a cigarette," he said finally, holding his hand out.

Leonidas's eyes widened slightly, but he smirked. "No smoking in the house," he taunted, but he was already reaching into his pocket for the box. Six took the cigarette graciously-- as in, he didn't kill Leonidas as he took it-- and he placed it between his teeth. 

"You're gonna get ash on your face," Leonidas said lightly, striking a match and finally lighting the cigarette.

Six breathed in deep, not even attempting to ease himself back into the broken habit. It was like dousing himself in ice water, and his eyes stung as he breathed out the smoke. His throat burned, his lungs felt comfortably warm, and his mouth tasted like ash. 

Leonidas struck another match, lighting his own cigarette, and Six just focused on it for a while. The nicotine did wonders for his nerves, or at least for his urge to kill, and he wondered briefly why he ever quit.

There were a lot of reasons. In his line of work, shortness of breath would be impossible to cope with. He couldn't really afford to keep up with the needed amount of cigarettes he smoked a day. It made his mouth taste awful. 

Rebecca didn't like it.

He sighed after his next puff, smoke billowing from his nose. His heart was racing, whether from the nicotine or the thought of Rebecca’s disappointed look he couldn't say. 

He cleared his throat. His phlegm tasted like fire. 

Leonidas leaned over him, rolling his cigarette between his teeth. "I can't tell if you look worse or better."

"I can't tell if I feel worse or better," Six grumbled, staring at the ceiling again. He hated this building. He needed out. 

"I'm going out," a hoarse voice came from Six's right, and he craned his neck to look. It was Drew's cured brother who stumbled into the room, red hair messy and legs still not quite strong enough to hold his weight. 

Leonidas sighed. "No, you're not. It's dark out."

"I said I'm going out," the brother said again, leaning on the wall.

"Come have a cigarette! I'm bored of talking to Six."

"I'm not staying in this-- this death trap anymore! I'm going out!"

"It's Weird World for a few acres yet, still," Leonidas got up to herd the man back, but Six's mind stuck on those words. The brother called this place a death trap, and Leonidas didn't even deny that. He ground the burning stub into his own wrist and renewed his efforts to stand up.

"Oh, please," Leonidas muttered, dragging the brother over to the side of the bed with a hand around his upper arm. He put his other hand over Six's collarbone. "You're all so scared of a house. "

The brother-- Six could not remember his name-- growled and attempted to tug his arm back sharply. Leonidas used his momentum to throw him on the bed over Six. His leg ached as the man kneed him in the hip, and before Six could shove him off, Leonidas had opened the belt around his hips and strapped the man in on top of him.

Six's lip curled. Perhaps, even without a weapon, he could snap both of their necks. That would be satisfying. Much more satisfying than that fucking cigarette. 

"What the hell, Van Rook?!" The man shouted, attempting to break the restraint on his back. Leonidas flopped back down on his chair, ignoring him as he snarled and twisted, pulling his arms out of the belt in an attempt to open it again. Leonidas really made it look much easier than it was. Six flinched imperceptibly as the man’s knee dug into the space between his legs, sending a twinge of pain through his entire body. 

“Doyle,” Leonidas said, looking at the book again. “Calm down. You’ll hurt the guest.”

The brother-- Doyle-- paused at that and looked down at Six underneath him like he hadn’t noticed him before. He attempted to pull his weight off of him, but the belt was really only built to hold down one person. They both grimaced. “Van Rook.”

“Blackwell,” Leonidas responded seamlessly, not even looking up.

“...Uh… Who is,” he paused, swallowed, and looked down at Six, propping himself up with his elbow beside his head. “Who are you?”

Six was silent, raised an eyebrow, and Leonidas answered for him. “Agent Six. Number who’s working for Providence nowadays.”

“And he’s tied down… Why?”

“The dragon got his leg and he won’t sit down for five seconds.”

“Komodo attacked him?” Doyle looked back down at Six, scrutinizing his face. Six stared back, trying to do the same. His hair was long, shorter on the sides, and he was ungroomed. He had a shadow of stubble, almost unnoticeable with the color of his hair. He was pale, his eyes were a striking blue, his ears were covered in different piercings, his translucent skin made his dark circles stand out even more-- “what’d you do to him?”

Six blinked before realizing that he was talking to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Komodo’s too lazy to attack without a reason. What’d you do?”

“...I jumped him.” Doyle snorted. Six felt just a bit defensive. “I thought he was going to attack the kid.”

“Of course you did,” he said, attempting to reposition himself again to get his weight off of Six. “He looks like a fuckin’ dinosaur now.” Six glanced over at Leonidas again, scowling at the amused look on his face, and Doyle found a way to sit that only put pressure on Six’s uninjured leg. “I probably didn’t look much better. Hey, you’re not dating Dr. Holiday, right?”

Six had to wonder if this is what Rex felt like when he had an episode. He ran the words back in his head, knowing exactly what Doyle said, knowing the exact answer was “no,” knowing exactly why the man asked, and the only answer that came from his mouth was, “Huh?”

“You got over wanting to get out quick,” Leonidas said, interrupting Six’s thought process. Doyle’s face went blank, and he started to struggle against the belt again.

Part of Six wanted to say, “that’s classified information,” part of him wanted to say, “no,” part of him wanted to say, “yes.” None of these parts were strong enough to face the part of him that wanted to stay silent and wait for Doyle to forget he ever asked.

Six hated this building.

He heard the front door open and he listened closely for Rebecca’s voice, but all he heard were footsteps-- the regular, if a bit slow, rhythm of Rebecca’s gait, and an extremely irregular rhythm for Rex’s. His feet were falling even louder than normal, the soles of his boots squeaking with every other step. 

“Well, don’t want Drew to see this blatant disregard for patient safety,” Leonidas grunted and opened the belt, yanking Doyle off of Six by the bicep.

“I’m telling her,” Doyle smacked Leonidas as he strapped Six back down with his free hand.

“We are meant to report these things.”

“I’m so scared,” Leonidas snarked, pushing Doyle into his chair and holding him there with a hand on his shoulder. 

“She’s made of fire,” Six said matter-of-factly, wondering if he had somehow forgotten or if he just didn’t care. 

He couldn’t really tell from his reaction, because at that moment, Rebecca walked into the room with Rex hanging off her arm, and Six’s murderous urges came back in full force.

Rex was stumbling and covered in blood. Scratches-- no, gouges-- littered his skin, and he hadn’t made any attempt to stop the little rivulets of blood from flowing down his face, arms, probably also his legs-- his jeans were no longer tucked into his boots.  His goggles hung around his neck and he wasn’t wearing his gloves, blood staining his fingers. The undersides of his nails were filthy.

Six locked eyes with Rebecca. Who did this to him? Probably not Drew-- she had the capability to injure Rex, but none of the wounds were burns, judging by the color of his skin and the amount of blood that was flowing. Just from the sheer number of abrasions, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had somehow been ganged up on. They needed to leave as soon as possible. They weren’t safe here--

“He got stuck in a nest of flesh-eating annelids,” Rebecca stated, and Rex let go of her arm to limp to the cot. “His nanites spiked and flatlined again.”

“So he’s having an episode,” Six said, half to himself, as Rex climbed onto the cot awkwardly and curled up in a ball, resting his head on Six’s abdomen. “How is he doing?”

Rebecca looked at the handheld, nervously pulling at a lock of her hair. “His nanites are stabilizing. He shouldn’t be in shock. I think I can ask, um…” She glanced back at the door, at the creature Zak had called his brother, and her face flushed. Six realized she had completely forgotten his name. “I-I can ask, uh, him, where the. Um, do you have wound wash, and band-aids?”

The creature nodded, looking a bit amused, and waved her over. Six wanted to protest as she turned to leave, wanted to try to get up and follow, but Rex pressed his face more tightly to his stomach.

He swallowed. He trusted Rebecca to keep herself safe, for now. Six hesitantly rested a hand between Rex’s shoulder blades. He could imagine what Doyle and Leonidas were thinking right now, the things that White might say if he knew that Rex was clinging to him. The boy’s human vulnerability annoyed him, and Six couldn’t say that it wouldn’t annoy him too… If it was coming from anyone else.

Rex was somewhere between fifteen and sixteen years old. He was too old to huddle close and cling to Six (not to mention, Six was not his family-- of course, they were unrelated, they weren’t close, and he should’ve thought of that sooner), and he shouldn’t still be so weak that he couldn’t hide his emotions.

Despite all of that, he kept his hand on Rex’s back, daring the other men in the room to say anything. If they had even a thought that the boy was anything less than the strongest soldier in Providence, Six would feed their poisoned skin to the flesh-eating annelids himself.

Chapter Text

“Rex,” Six said, silently prompting him to stay awake, if only because he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable letting Rex fall asleep snuggling up against him in front of Leonidas, the ex-mercenary.

“Sorry,” Rex mumbled, muffled by the shirt he had his face pressed into. “I’m gonna get blood on your suit.” His fingers flexed in the fabric of the borrowed sweatpants, and Six could feel his brow furrow. “Yer not wearin’ a suit.”

“I am not.”

Rex turned his head, just enough that his face wasn’t completely covered. The blood had smeared onto the borrowed top and across Rex’s forehead. He blinked slowly at Six. “‘m sorry,” he said again, voice thick. “I lost my goggles. An’ my gloves.”

“Your goggles are around your neck,” Six informed him. “Did you check your pockets for your gloves?”

Rex froze for a moment, then started to pat down his pants pockets. He sighed in relief as he evidently found his gloves, and he laid an arm over Six’s body, pushing his face back into his stomach.

“ This is Rex?” Doyle whispered, and Six remembered that the other two men were there. His hand stiffened against Rex’s back. He wasn’t going to let someone berate the boy when he was already in a vulnerable position.

“Yes, he cured you. Do you have a problem, Mr. Blackwell?”

Doyle blinked back with a dumb look on his face, then looked back down at Rex. Six resisted the urge to throw his charge behind him and attack. “...Thank you for your help,” he said finally.

Rex glanced up from where he clung to Six. He looked at Doyle. His face went red— only slightly, only enough that Six, who saw Rex more than anyone except maybe Bobo, could notice. “...Hi,” he said, then buried his face in Six’s shirt again.

Rebecca came back, her shoes clacking against the floor quickly as she speedwalked, the sound of her steps sounding more correct now. Her breath was slightly quicker than normal, her face was flushed, and she sat down on the side of the cot. Her hurried demeanor changed as she reached over to hold Rex's wrist, lifting it slowly off of Six as she started her attempts to coax him into letting her clean him up.

Rex glanced over her as she lifted his hand, then turned and clung tighter to Six. Rebecca put the reaction together faster than Six did and turned to Leonidas and Doyle. "Could you two step out? He needs privacy."

"Privacy" seemed like a funny way of putting it, but it was true that Rex became uncomfortable with other people being around him when he was like this. Six wasn't sure why he only tolerated Rebecca and himself— even Bobo was excluded from this inner circle— but when Rex was feeling this vulnerable, he refused to relax around anyone else.

White hated when he got like this. Six also hated it, but for different reasons.

Doyle and Leonidas got up and left without complaint, the only thing that was said was a short, "thank you again," from Doyle. They closed the door behind them, and Six forced himself to relax.

Rex and Rebecca were there now. Rebecca gently removed Rex's jacket and then his shirt. She wet a square of gauze with rubbing alcohol and began to wipe away the half-dried blood in quick, measured strokes.

Rex sat up beside her, hand fisted in Six's shirt, and he winced as she rubbed the gauze against one of the cuts. "I—" he choked out, swallowed again, and sniffed roughly. "Hi."

"Hi, Rex," both Six and Rebecca murmured at the same time. Six knew he wanted to say something different, but even one word, a word completely unrelated to anything he was really thinking about, came out stilted and confused. Rex told him before about how his thoughts and his outer expression divorced themselves from each other when he got like this. It was better not to push him to say anything, especially when he was already pushing himself. 

"Ah… um," Rex took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Six's shirt. There was the frustration. "I— I am normal."

Rebecca tilted his chin toward her, wiping blood from his face. She made a small noise to assure him that she heard him.

Rex started to take deep breaths, so steadily that you might think he was using a stopwatch to measure the seconds between each breath. In for four, out for eight. 

Rebecca wiped his face clean silently, placing band-aids on his cheek, jaw, and deciding to use wrap bandages on the wound on his hairline. The troubled air in the room slowly receded, Rebecca and Rex's presence like a soothing balm and a twist of the knife. He liked— he needed to have them close, but their presence was also a reminder of how powerless he was to protect them now. 

Rex came back into himself slowly. "I, um. I-I think— I," he swallowed again, "I… I like Zak. He… 's nice."

“He seems nice,” Rebecca murmured, though Six wasn’t sure if she really meant it or if she was just being agreeable because of his current state.

“He’s nice,” Rex repeated, leaning into Rebecca’s touch. His grip on Six’s clothes loosened. “I didn’t… I’m sorry,” he looked back at Six, swallowing again. And again. He sniffed, choked on his breath, and his eyes started to water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run away.”

Then the boy sobbed, and as much as Six hated to see him cry, he was kind of glad for it. If he was crying now, he’d be back to his old self soon enough. Rebecca pulled him closer, pressing his cheek to her shoulder and shushing him gently. She rubbed his back rhythmically.

“I’unno why I’m crying,” Rex’s words stumbled out quickly, the same mantra he used every time he cried. It seemed he never knew why he was crying. 

“We need to get you a replacement earpiece,” Six said, ignoring Rex’s state. There were times to acknowledge that the boy wasn’t in a space to talk, and there were times to pretend he was ignoring it. He hated being treated like glass, but that didn’t mean that it was alright to treat him normally. There was a way to handle one with care without making them feel useless. 

Speaking of useless… “I’ll head back to base tonight,” Rebecca whispered, because Six wouldn’t be able to. “I’ll pick up clothing and more supplies. Six can’t travel until he’s healed up a bit, and we still need to collect the Kur Stone.”

“Ah,” Rex scratched his head and hummed thoughtfully. “‘S not in Zak’s, uh…” He swallowed and gripped his hair in a fist, pulling as if he thought he could just pull the memories out through his scalp. “His… Weapon thingy. It’s not in there. The Kur Stone. Not in there. He lemme mess with it.”

Rebecca put a finger between his fist and his hair, teasing his hand away from it to keep him from hurting himself. “That’s good to know,” she said softly, even though it wasn’t. Zak’s staff was the only lead they really had to something that might control cryptids. “Were you bitten anywhere else?”

Rex blinked a couple times, looking at her uncomprehendingly, then he took a breath. “Legs,” he said simply. 

Rebecca nodded. “Can you take off your pants alone, then?” Rex might’ve known that at this point, his regular self might make a joke about nudity or otherwise try to lighten the mood, but he only robotically started to fumble with the button and zipper on his jeans. Six could see him beginning to really process his surroundings as his attempts failed with poor motor control, but he wasn’t lucid enough to understand that this wasn’t a moral failure on his part. His brow furrowed and he swallowed with effort, his eyes beginning to shimmer and his face reddening. 

Rebecca cut into his increasingly frantic plucking at the button, gently shushing him and murmuring reassurances as she undid the button for him and then let him pull his pants down on his own. 

"Oh, Jesus," she said, quickly putting the alcohol-soaked gauze down against Rex's thigh. Six glanced around his back to see what she was looking at. A large cordlike centipede was attached to him, a small bulge under his skin where the head was embedded. The rest of its body wrapped around his thigh, long enough that the end of it was under his knee.

Rebecca cringed, soaking another bit of gauze with rubbing alcohol. "It can't be too different from removing a tick, right?" She mumbled to herself. Rex blinked incomprehensibly at the creature attached to him, then lifted his hand to try to pull it off his leg.

"Ah, wait, don't—" Six and Rex both jumped at the voice as Doyle ran back into the room. Six’s eye twitched. How long had he been watching? Listening? He was holding a new box, though, so maybe he hadn't heard—

Rex was shivering.

"Don't touch it," Doyle said, kneeling beside Rebecca to look at the bug as well. "These bastards— wait, you fell in a devonian annelid nest?"

Rex's hand fumbled uselessly for Six, so he grabbed it and gave it a small squeeze. "Hi," he said, still shaking like a chihuahua.

"How are you awake?" Doyle said dumbly, and Rebecca cleared her throat.

"I believe I asked you to step outside," she said bluntly. She slapped Rex's other hand away from picking at the bug in his skin.

Doyle was quiet for a moment and Six had to hold back a smirk. It had been a while since he had to hide a smile. "...Bug kit," he said finally, putting the box down on the bed. "I figured if he fell in a nest, there'd probably still be some stuck in him."

"Oh," Rebecca opened the box, and Six grabbed Rex's other hand to keep him out of the bite again. She pulled out a pair of pointed tweezers. "Thank you, then."

"It dug in pretty deep," Doyle said, and Six wished he would just get out. "It might've eaten down to muscle. Does it hurt?" Rex stared back at him silently, still trembling a bit. Doyle grimaced. "Is he always like this?"

Rebecca shoved him back. Six wasn't expecting her to, but he did feel quite vindicated when she did. "He doesn't want you in here," she said coldly. "Thank you for your help, Doyle, but now is not the time."

Doyle sat there for a moment like he was shocked that a woman pushed him, and anxiety rose in Six's throat that he might try to attack Rebecca back. But then he stood up, mumbled an apology, and walked out.

Rebecca watched him go, the furrow of her brow changing minutely from angry to sad. She sighed and put a hand firmly on Rex's knee, using the tweezers to dig under the skin and find the head of the bug. Rex attempted to flinch away and let out a small wail as she caught the head and pulled it out slowly, fatty tissue still stuck on the tweezers. It really had burrowed deep. She put it into a zipper top plastic bag, almost not able to fit the entire body in it. It squirmed uncomfortably in the tight space. 

Tears fell onto Rex's legs as he leaned over, teeth gritted. Rebecca shushed him, pressing down on the wound with a fresh piece of gauze. "He should need stitches," she muttered, a thoughtful look on her face.

"You're worried about it healing over them."

"The quick healing is a double-edged sword sometimes. Surgical glue would probably be fine, I think his body would absorb it…" Rebecca sighed, wiping the wound on Rex's leg and taking out another piece of gauze to hold onto it. "Was I too hard on him?"

Six raised an eyebrow. "He needed it out of his skin. It would have healed much worse over that centipede."

"No, no, I mean— Doyle. I don’t think he was trying to insult Rex, but it felt like he was, and I—" she sighed. "I'll apologize later."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Six stared up at the ceiling, finally letting go of Rex's hands now that Rebecca was done with the bug, but his hand immediately slammed into his leg, scratching violently at the gouged flesh. “Shoot,” he gritted out, grabbing Rex’s wrists and holding them behind his back.

Rex wailed and his leg spasmed, blood flowing freely from the open wound, and Rebecca pressed a square of gauze down on the spot with bruising force. “It’s alright. It’s alright, Rex. Don’t scratch, okay?”

Six waited for him to nod before he let go of his hands, and Rex reached feebly toward him again. He took Rex’s hand and squeezed, and Rebecca did the same with the other hand. “It-it didn’t— before, before, it didn’t hurt. Hurts now, why—” he sobbed, clutching their hands tightly enough that his knuckles popped.

“Doc said that they produce a tranquilizer,” she said softly. “It might’ve numbed you while it was in your leg.”

“I don’t— I don’t like it,” Rex said, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. I’m— I’m cold, I think.”

Rebecca snorted quietly. “Give me my hand back, and we’ll finish cleaning you up, alright? Then you can put your clothes back on.”

Komodo had terrible night vision.

Zak led him through the forest, connected both through his powers and by a hand on his snout. He was really trying to concentrate, keep them all together, but it was… Difficult, to say the least.

Dad was keeping the path clear, at least. Moving mostly by the light of Mom’s flames, walking them back to the manor without straying from the path at all. He kept his hand in his pocket.

Zak hated being aware that he was keeping his hand in his pocket. 

Mom laid across Komodo's back, arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Through their connection, Zak could feel the gentle warmth radiating from her, though he knew without Komodo’s thick skin he would quickly be burned if he tried to hug her.

Dad kept his hand in his pocket. 

"We're close," Dad said, but Zak didn't really need him to. He could feel Fisk and Zon very nearby at the manor. Maybe Fisk could talk some sense into Dad— he was always the second place in common sense in their family. 

Dad knew what he did, though. He didn't regret it. It brought Mom down from her rampage, so he didn't mind. His hand was in his pocket, and she wouldn't see it.

Rex didn’t end up putting his clothes back on. Holiday had looked at them and grimaced, and he had somehow convinced her to at least try to wash them before thinking about throwing them out. Blood stains couldn’t be that permanent.

Instead, he was curled up on the ground in a throw blanket that smelled like dust, watching Six and Holiday as they reached the point in the Rex-tantrum-checklist where they pointedly ignored him until he was ready to interact with someone again.

The Van Rook guy wasn’t bad at that— Rex was pretty sure he was more interested in Six than anything else going on in Weird World, which was a funny thing to fixate on— but Uncle Doyle kept trying to pull Rex into conversation. 

He was pretty sure Doyle was just trying to be nice and he felt bad for flinching whenever the man said his name, but it wasn't like he wanted to be acting this way. He’d love to act normal again, act like everything was fine (because it was ), but he wasn’t in the mood. He was in the mood to curl up in the corner and listen to other people’s conversations and pretend he couldn’t hear them. That was all he wanted to do.

“Let him be,” Van Rook said before Doyle could say anything this time. Rex pulled his knees to his chest. 

“Where’s Zak?” Six asked, also interrupting before Doyle could speak. “The other Saturdays aren’t here either.”

Rex looked up when there was no response, and he followed Holiday’s gaze to Fisk, staring out the window intensely. She opened her mouth and closed it again, her brow furrowed, and Rex realized she didn’t know his name. “Fisk?” he croaked, and the creature’s fur bristled as he whipped around, startled.

“Fisk?” Holiday asked, also turning and looking at Rex. He pointed back at Zak’s brother, who pointed at himself when Holiday turned back around. “Oh, Fisk. Uh… Where’s your family?”

He raised an eyebrow and babbled incomprehensibly, signing slowly as he did. Absolutely no one in the room seemed to understand him.

Then the door opened and Zak walked in, rubbing his eyes. His clothes were dirty and muddy, much worse than Rex’s blood-stained ones, and he grumbled something to himself. “Hey,” he said when he uncovered his face and set himself down on the seat next to Van Rook like he wasn’t going to absolutely destroy the upholstery. “There was a situation. It’s handled.”

“Is that snake skin??” Doyle asked incredulously, plucking a huge scaly piece of something off of his shoulders. Zak wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll be in the shower,” he said, standing back up quickly, eye twitching noticeably. “Rex, do you want me to grab you some clean clothes?” Rex processed his question and nodded after a moment, pulling the blanket up around him tighter. 

"Great, cool. I'll try not to use up the hot water." Zak trudged past him, putting a hand on his head and combing it through his hair once. Rex felt his lips curl into an involuntary smile. "You shower too. Use the bathroom connected to your guest room— uh," Zak froze, blinking hard. "I mean. If you want. I'm not the boss of you."

Rex nodded and ignored the way Van Rook snorted with amusement and Doyle grimaced. It was probably some inside joke.

As soon as the bathroom door was locked behind him, Zak began running cold water and sat down beside the shower, shedding his jacket slowly as he reached out. "Is everyone okay?" He asked, the running water loud enough that no one would hear him. 

Responses rung out in his head, growls and roars and barks from different creatures in the areas Mom destroyed, all answering his question in a cacophony of noise. He closed his eyes against it. "No one is hurt. Does everyone whose nest was trampled have a place to stay until tomorrow?"

He slowly undressed as he received responses— some had found a new knothole or burrow the moment that Kur told them to get out of the area, but some were still nervous, stuck outside near the smoldering wreck that used to be the graveyard. He sighed through his nose. "Rani Nagi, your excellency," he spoke with his strongest commanding tone, and she responded quickly.

My lord , she purred, and Kur rolled his eyes. She still felt pride that he had accepted the task of ruling over his subjects, even though he went in a completely different direction than she wanted at first. It was a bit irritating to hear her so proud of herself.

"You will be opening your nest to the misplaced cryptids for tonight," Kur ordered. "You will not harm them, and they will not harm you. Treat them as distinguished guests. I will leave the rest to your discretion, but know that you will have to answer for any actions that I deem unnecessary."

How many favors does this count as, my lord?

"Don't start with me, naga," Kur growled, scaring himself with the way his voice rumbled. 

Rani Nagi noticed that and chuckled. I will care for them as if my own. Send them to me.

His lip curled. She was always trying to get under his skin. It always worked. He took a deep breath. "Anyone who doesn't have a place to stay, go to the nest of the nagas. Her excellency will care for you there." He paused, leaning the side of his head against the wall. "I love you all. Stay safe."

He disconnected, slumping over as he realized how tense he was. The room was quiet now, but still deafening with the sound of running water, and he groaned and put his face in his hands. 

He hoped Dad's hand would heal well. He couldn't imagine how much that hurt.

He peeled the rest of his wet, muddy clothes off and climbed in the shower, forcing himself to stand up. The water was freezing and he let it run directly into his face, holding his breath as it ran over him. 

With his eyes shut tight and the water filling his ears, he could almost ignore everything around him. He could be anywhere right now.

He could be standing in the snow, blood drying under his claws—

He shut off the water, slamming his hand into the knob and turning it quickly, and he sank to his knees in the tub. "Oh, me," he groaned, clutching his head. He needed to rinse his hair. He needed to scrub his skin raw.

He rubbed his face and turned the cold water knob slightly, then the hot water all the way. He just needed to take a normal shower. Then he needed to get some clothes for Rex, then he could sit down. He could find Fisk and talk to him about everything. If nothing else, Fisk could just hold him for a while.

He just needed to shower. He'd feel better after a shower.

Rex hated when his nanites flatlined, he decided. He should be able to shower on his own, he should be able to shower at all, not just bathe. But he wasn’t able, and Holiday was kneeling beside the tub with the showerhead and a washcloth while he stayed curled up in the water and tried to keep his brain on one train of thought. 

It was more difficult than it should be.

“A bath is just soap soup,” he was rambling, and from the rawness of his throat, he assumed he’d been rambling for a while. “I’m a spice in soap soup.”

Holiday didn’t dignify that with a response, also a sign that he’d been talking incoherently without realizing it. She held the shower over his head and he closed his eyes as the water ran over his face. She turned off the water after a few seconds and Rex rubbed his face to get the water out of his eyes. 

“Are you mad at me?” He asked quietly, finally looking over at Holiday as she squeezed shampoo into her palm. 

She looked confused for a moment, then sighed and propped herself up on the wall of the tub so she could massage the shampoo into his hair. “I’m not mad, but when Six and I don’t have a way to contact you, you shouldn’t run off.” He closed his eyes, curling up a bit tighter. His leg itched. “What if you got hurt?”

“Zak and Fisk were there,” he mumbled, looking over at her. Holiday was silent for a few moments before she sighed.

“We still don’t know if the Saturdays are trustworthy,” she said, lowering her voice. "They could've lured you away and—"

"But they didn't. They wouldn't. Zak and Fisk're nice. They were… They're really cool. Did you know their mom speaks thirty-seven languages?" Holiday massaged her fingers in circles on his scalp, fingernails gently scratching his skin. He closed his eyes. "I didn't know there were that many languages."

Holiday was quiet again, her touch the only thing that kept Rex from losing his train of thought again. "...That's very interesting, Rex. That's a lot of languages."

"Fisk speaks, um… Three, I think. Or four. I don't really remember." She hummed in response. Rex could tell that she did not care at all. He pulled his knees to his chest, focusing on the warmth of the water. “...It could be five.”

“Close your eyes, Rex,” Holiday murmured, then aimed the shower right at his hair and started to rinse out the shampoo. He held his breath, three of his five senses cut off suddenly— taste wasn’t really helping, but at least he could feel everything just fine— and stayed still until the water stopped. 

He rubbed his eyes as Holiday stood up. “I’m going to ask them for some towels and washcloths. You’re fine on your own, right?”

Rex nodded, not even really thinking about it. She smiled and left, and he sank into the water, leaning back against the wall. The tub was larger than he was used to and he wondered for a moment if it was actually a jacuzzi without jets. What would that be called? Like a hot tub, but without the jets. He closed his eyes, submerging himself in the water more. What is a hot tub without jets called? I know they exist, I’m in one— what are they c— His train of thought was cut off as he sputtered and coughed, surfacing from underwater. He heaved, leaning over his knees, and tried to stop choking on his soap soup. 

Right, “right,” he said aloud. “Note to self: don’t put your nose underwater and try to breathe.”

He stared at the water, trying to see if he could make out his reflection. He grimaced at the light shade of brown the water had become— Did I really start bleeding that much? Or was that all dirt? When was the last time I showered? 

Rex startled at the sudden knock at the door. "Come in," he said automatically, not even thinking before speaking— thoughts were somewhat of a valuable resource at the moment. He assumed that it was probably just Holiday coming back with the towels, though he wasn't sure if she would knock.

The door opened, though, and it wasn't Holiday— Zak walked in instead, with a small stack of clothes that Rex just now remembered he was going to borrow, and he set them down on the counter by the door. 

He was wearing a peachy-orange floral print satin robe with a matching hair bonnet now, and Rex found himself unable to look away from the shiny fabric. Zak glanced around the room for a moment. "Shoot," he said, smacking his forehead, and Rex remembered he should be embarrassed to be naked right now. "Do you need some towels? I can grab you some."

Rex blinked hard, running the words back in his head as he tried to curl up a bit. "Uh— I think Holiday went to grab some. And some washcloths, too."

"Oh, alright," Zak stared at the mirror, and Rex was glad he wasn't staring at him. "Uh, call if you need anything, okay? I'll see you—"

"Oh, wait!" Rex stopped him as he was about to turn around. "...Uh… What's a jacuzzi without jets called?"

Zak stared through him for a moment, which was somehow still better than if he was staring at him. "Is this the intro to a joke?"

"No. I forgot and it's driving me crazy."

"I guess it's just, like, a bathtub, right? Or maybe a pool—"

"Bath! And tub," Rex exclaimed. All the pieces, falling together so perfectly. "God. Thanks."

"You're welcome— but don't call me God." Rex laughed out loud, and Zak chuckled in response. His laugh was so soft and low— Rex loved hearing it. It really scratched the itch inside him that told him everyone had to love him all the time. 

"I like your robe," Rex said, staring at the shiny fabric again. "It matches your hat."

"Oh— thank you! They were in a set— I've also got a matching eye mask. I can send you a link to the store I ordered it from, if you want." Rex didn't really want anything like that— it suited Zak, but it felt a bit too… Casually regal for Rex's style. But he nodded anyway, because Zak’s smile was changing his brain chemistry in unprecedented ways.

The door opened and Holiday, towels draped over her arm, froze in the doorway when she noticed Zak. He turned around at the same time to look at her. “...Zak. What’re you doing?”

“Rex is borrowing some clothes,” he said, gesturing to the small pile he had set on the counter. 

“But what are you doing in here? You could’ve left them outside the door.”

Zak rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh. I knocked, and Rex said come in, so I. Came in.”

Holiday glanced between him and Rex before sighing and stepping around Zak to go to the side of the tub again. "Go get some rest, Zak. I'll take care of Rex."

"Just make sure you rest too, Dr. Holiday," Zak murmured, walking backwards out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Holiday took a deep breath and knelt beside the tub, wetting a washcloth and lifting Rex's arm to scrub it like he was a child. 

Rex stared at her, trying to commit every movement to memory. Her brow was furrowed, her jaw set, and her grip on the washcloth was tight. He couldn't remember if she had been this tense the whole time, and he felt awful for not noticing.

"He's right," he mumbled, mind still clinging to Zak's voice even after many long minutes had passed and he was clean and wrapped in a towel, watching Holiday wrap bandages around his thigh. "You should get some rest."

Holiday blew out a breath through her nose, moving to start rebandaging another bite. "Save it for Six."

"Yes'm," Rex nodded, eyes beginning to drift closed again. He hoped a bit of sleep might make him feel like himself again.

"I don't know what to do," Zak growled, rubbing his stinging eyes. He draped himself across Fisk's stomach and rubbed the elastic of his bonnet into his temples. "What if this happens again?"

Komodo huffed, stomping around the room nervously, anxiously waiting for… Something. Zak was pretty sure he was just still irritated with Agent Six being there. 

Zon was crouched on the bed that used to be Komodo's before he started sleeping at the foot of Zak's bed. She chittered, flapping her wings twice before settling into her spot. Komodo hopped onto Zak's bed and settled as well, still flicking his tongue out repeatedly.

Do you think Dad told her that she burnt him yet? Fisk babbled, and Zak rolled over to shove his face in his fur. 

"I don't know. I hate this," he clung to his brother, sniffling. "I keep— I keep thinking about how much easier it would be if they weren't human." Fisk's chest rose as he took a deep breath, ready to chastise Zak, but he cut him off. "I know. I don't… I know it wouldn't be easier. I can't… Control anything."

Fisk sighed and sat up, holding Zak close to his chest and rocking him slowly. What used to be a little mocking joke that Fisk would do to make Zak feel like a dumb baby had become a truly soothing thing, and he closed his eyes. "Fisk, I…" He lowered his voice, tears pricking at his eyes. "I think I know why Providence is finding more EVO cryptids. I can’t connect to them when they go EVO, I can't tell them to stay away from cities, I—" he swallowed, clinging tighter to Fisk as Komodo hopped off the bed and rested his chin against Fisk's leg. "I can't do anything."

Fisk mumbled incomprehensibly, a purr rising in his chest to soothe Zak, and Komodo bumped his head to his hand. "What if— what if Mom goes EVO, completely, or-or if Dad tries to stop her like he did today, and he—" Zak choked, sobbing as Komodo shoved his face into his chest trying to distract him. Zon cawed softly and fluttered over, putting her beak against his shoulder. 

Fisk huffed again and spread his limbs out, letting Zon and Komodo climb into his lap with Zak. He patted Komodo's neck. You only really… Figured it all out three years ago. Mum and Dad and cryptids— we were able to take care of ourselves before. You don't have to— no, you shouldn't feel like it's all your responsibility. 

"I know, but—" his voice broke and he shut his eyes tight. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should truly be a dictator over cryptids. Maybe if he kept a tighter hold on them, they wouldn't stray so far. Maybe if he ruled with an iron fist—

Fisk bopped him on the forehead, making him open his eyes at the shock, and waggled a finger in his face. Zak wrinkled his nose and pushed his face into his brother's fur. "I didn't say anything."

You looked angry at yourself , Fisk huffed. Zon practically hopped on Zak's back, wings draped over him like a blanket, and Komodo settled around the three of them. 

How could he even think of controlling them? His own siblings. He couldn't take away their free will, even if he could hone his powers to such a point. The thought made his stomach turn.

"I'm in my head," he mumbled, and Fisk cooed understandingly. Zon picked at his robe, gently attempting to preen him. 

I might try talking to Dad. Do you think that would make you feel better? Fisk was always very responsible, and he was good at picking his words carefully. Zak was pretty sure if anyone was going to be able to explain how they felt to Dad, it would be Fisk. 

Zak sniffed, relaxing in his nest of siblings. With Komodo just barely laying on his feet, Fisk cradling him gently, and Zon resting her head on the crook of his shoulder, he felt like he was home.