Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello there! This will be my first time attempting a challenge like this, so please bear with me. I'm hoping this is gonna be a lot of fun!

This year I will be borrowing my prompts from Sleepinggirl on Twitter. Prompts below

1. Dazed (Taken) (Complete!)
2. Brain Drained (Complete!)
3. Magic Ritual (Taken) (Complete!)
4. Denied (Taken) (Complete!)
5. Noncon
6. Soul Contract (Taken) (Complete!)
7. Technology (Taken) (Complete!)
8. Addicted (Taken) (Complete!)
9. Erased (Taken) (Complete!)
10. Brainwashed (Complete!)
11. IQ Reduced (Complete!)
12. Hyperfocus (Complete!)
13. Mind Fucked Out
14. Impossibly Deep (Complete!)
15. Dolly (Complete!)
16. Sex Obsessed (Complete!)
17. Corrupted (Taken) (Complete!)
18. Pet (Complete!)
19. Personality (Complete!)
20. Transformed (Complete!)
21. Nothing Left (Complete!)
22. Never the Same (Complete!)
23. ...And Back Down (Complete!)
24. Ready to Play (Complete!)
25. At Peace (Taken) (Complete!)
26. Cumming (Complete!)
27. Permanency (Taken)
28. ...Or Are You? (Taken)
29. Happily Ever After (Taken)
30. You Win

I probably won't be able to do daily uploads because of work and because I want to try and make all of these come out with quality and effort

Lastly, just want to lay down some quick notes and rules
-As stated in the description, I'll be updating this with fandoms and tags as I go
-Not all of these will be overtly sexual, I'll individually mark chapters with ratings to keep things organized
-No underaged characters, period. Even if some of these plots are lighthearted, this is still a kink for me, so no kids whatsoever
-I'm okay with writing nonconsensual hypnosis, but anything sexual needs to be consensual.
-I'm very likely going to use characters repeatedly. What can I say I love fucking around with Ky Kiske.

Have fun, everyone!

Chapter Text

Some of the nicest accommodations in the world, the most high-quality mattresses, blankets, and pillows, and it still wasn’t enough to cure insomnia. Typical. He should have expected this sort of thing by now. Something had to go wrong.

At least Illyria castle had plenty of long stretches of hallway to listlessly meander along. Sometimes Ky would try to jog along them in a vain attempt to tire himself out. It didn’t often work. And he wondered how absurd he had to look, running barefoot in his pajamas through the castle corridors in the middle of the night. He was too tired to run this time. Wasn’t that something? Too tired to run, but still not tired enough to fall asleep.

Ky sighed and moved toward one of the hallway’s windows. At least these ones opened. This wing of the castle was more modernized, but others were far more classically-styled. There wasn’t anything wrong with the older style, per se, he could appreciate the elegance, but it could come with drawbacks. Ornate glass was stately and grand, but wasn’t much help on hot days when they needed a little breeze.

Just the thought of it made him shudder in delight. He took it as a sign that he absolutely needed a bit of fresh air. Ky undid the locking hooks and slid the lower pane upwards. In came a rolling draft, battering the sweaty skin of his cheeks like the gentlest wave. It brought along with it the sounds of rustling leaves from the courtyard plants and muted, distant sounds from downtown. He let his chin rest against his arms as they propped against the sill, taking in a long, slow breath of cool wind.

Something in the back of his thoughts began to thrum, just long enough for Ky to take notice before it sank in. His thoughts slowed. Something else was pouring in through the window. It carried on the breeze, wrapping around his body like a languid embrace from a drowsy lover. A strange, wordless melody slithered into his ears and hooked right into his brain. Sighs escaped his throat as it dug deeper and deeper, muffling the day’s stresses under a blanket of fog. He had no chance of fighting it off, but he had no intention to try. This was exactly what he’d needed. Calm. Gentle, sweet calm.

The song kept playing. It felt as though it was tugging him along, and he let it guide him. He wanted to be wherever it was. It would have been fastest to climb right out the window, but a lucid-enough part of his consciousness recognized he was currently several stories up. If he did that, he’d fall and likely injure himself. Even if this felt like a dream, it wasn’t enough to make him reckless.

As he continued staring out, something pale appeared in the window, blocking out the nighttime view. It shifted about somewhat awkwardly, only settling when he noticed something reddish eke into the corner. He wanted to move to get a better look, but his feet didn’t feel like going anywhere.

“Hello, darling. What brings you here?”

The voice was booming yet incredibly soft, hardly above a whisper. Familiar. Comforting. Names and faces weren’t connecting at the moment, but the sight of whatever this was put him at ease.

He couldn’t find his words, only offering a stupid smile. The thing in the window shifted, and he spotted something narrow and blue, more like a midday sky than the purplish-black of the night.

“It’s very late, why are you up?”

His mouth felt sticky, as though someone had filled it with honey and peanut butter when he wasn’t paying attention. “Couldn’ sleep.”

“...I see.”

Something rumbled. Ky couldn’t find it in him to worry. It felt as though he’d forgotten how. He was far more invested in watching the movement of the window-thing, hoping it wouldn’t grow bored of him and decide to disappear. He wanted to hear it sing again.

More rumbling. Rustling. Something the same kind of pale, but different-shaped moved into his vision. It took him a moment to process that the thing in front of him was a pair of hands, massive enough to easily carry him in just one. The fingertips butted against the wall below the window, making a new platform.

“I can never say no to a visit, no matter the time. Climb on.”

The hands were certainly big, but it didn’t help much with his sense of coordination. Ky put a good effort forward, but by the time he’d squeezed his upper half out of the window, he was tired. He fell the rest of the way out more than anything else, tumbling head-over-heels and landing on his back. The hands beneath him bent slightly under his weight, cupping around his body like they expected him to roll right off the edge.

He feels like he knows what he’s looking at, but between the brain fog and the sheer size, it’s hard to get a clear picture. All that comes in are little clippings of detail that offer little use. Dark feathers. Metal rivets the size of his torso. The edge of a smile, offering a glimpse of razor fangs. The hands carry him higher, and that only makes it harder to distinguish things. Maybe he should stop trying. He feels too dazed to think properly.

The movement slows, leaving him near that giant, sharp mouth. The teeth could easily impale him. He’s seen war barricades with smaller stakes. Logically, he should be terrified. But instead, he’s more relaxed than he’s been all night.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

Ky tries to smile. It comes out lopsided. “H’llo.”

The woman- some part of him is sure of that- finds something about him funny. The hands tremble as she laughs. He’s delighted to think that he made her happy in some way, even if he doesn’t understand what he did.

“I thought I felt something strange. You’re up late again, is it work? What is it that’s bothering you so much?”

Her voice is really, really nice, which makes up for the fact that his brain doesn’t want to understand any of what she’s saying. He picks up on a few words, but his thoughts decide of their own accord to fixate more on how she says it, how the syllables roll ever-so-warmly like a hot drink on a cold day than what any of it means. He just sort of…stares at her in a serene, drunken calm, only breaking the silence with a slurring snicker.

Ky watches the mouth thin out and flatten, hiding the points away from sight. But there’s sharpness to be found elsewhere. The curved edge of one massive clawlike nail pressed into his ribcage, catching several strands of fabric as it did so. Still, it felt more calming than threatening.

“I guess it’s a silly question. I should have waited.” She made a noise like a sigh. “You’re never very coherent like this. I’m glad you’re calm now, but it’s hard to carry a conversation.”

He just continues staring, unable to decipher what he’s meant to do, if anything at all. He wants to go to bed. Where he’s lying right now will do just fine. Ky tries to squirm in place and find a slightly more comfortable position than lying on his back.

The hands beneath him shake again. “C-careful, that tickles!” She half-protests. “I don’t want to drop you!”

He stills, curling in on himself. This is comfortable enough. Another massive finger delicately brushes against the top of his head.

“I can never get over how tiny you are. I’d carry you around in my pockets, but I’d worry about losing track of you.”

Most of that doesn’t make sense to him, though he thinks being carried around would be nice. He wonders if pockets are comfortable. He’ll have to ask when he wakes up, because he’s simply far too tired to try and do so now. The singing starts again, and he lets it lull the final bits of his consciousness. He hopes falling asleep in a maybe-stranger’s hands isn’t deeply rude, but if it is, he can make up for it later.

Chapter Text

The Golden Lotus, a crown jewel to thieves and criminals everywhere. Of course casinos were a common target for those sorts of people. They were towering shrines of money fleeced off of gullible and risky players until they either wised up or lost everything they had. When you threw booze into the mix, you had a building full of tipsy idiots practically tripping over themselves to throw their cash away. All that money just laying around, practically free-flowing? Who could say no to that?

Well, not like it was that easy. Nothing ever was. Every casino had security systems to keep ne’er-do-wells from stealing what they had already rightfully stolen, and if you asked anybody in the business of stealing, the Lotus’ was on its own level. In all its years of operation, no thief of any sort could claim to have stolen from them and gotten away with it. Even the most competent criminals with the most well-crafted plans had failed. What’s more, very few could even say why. Most would-be heistmasters always said the same thing- no matter how well the job seemed to be going, no matter how perfectly smooth things ran, they would suddenly find themselves someplace far away from the building, sometimes even several towns away. The current reigning theory was some kind of government-sanctioned teleportation magic, but nobody could say for sure. All they knew was that The Golden Lotus was impenetrable.

Very few establishments could make such a bold claim, but then again, the Jellyfish weren’t your run-of-the-mill pirates, either. And Johnny was far from your average gambler.

“Shoot, can’t say they’re modest.” He whistled in approval through his binoculars, eyeing the shimmering gold statue that sat atop the multi-story building. He’d seen endless pictures of the place inside and out while he and his girls had been scoping the place out and planning their ‘business,’ but nothing quite compared to seeing the thing in person. Sweeping spotlights and luminous neon made it so that missing the place was an impossibility. Cheeky lads, practically asking for someone to come in and swipe a sack of cash or two.

“Almost ready, Johnny?” April looked at him over her shoulder. Her hands were occupied with fixing the ribbon on May’s jacket. Even while disguised, none of the girls looked like they were quite old enough to gamble. With enough nice clothes, though, they looked enough like darling little daughters brought along for a fun little vacation in a nice hotel room, while their beloved daddy moneybags gambled his savings away. Hopefully the impression would stick long enough for several of them to make it into the treasury.

The man tucked his things away and brushed the bangs out of his eyes. He stood up tall, looking over his gaggle of girls with confidence in his eyes.

“Everyone’s been over their jobs inside, outside, upside down?”

“Yessir!”

“Alrighty, then,” Johnny gave a husky laugh, “let’s go shopping, kids.”

While expensive sports cars lined the lot, the group passed by them on foot. As expected, Johnny played the lead, sauntering along and smiling with the swagger of an overconfident gambler who was about to lose a boatload of cash, much like every other wannabe-winner that awaited them inside.

He could hear his daughters gasp in awe as they stepped through the luxurious spinning door and entered the foyer. It was a genuine response, but it did well in helping them play the part of innocent little kids. The interior of the casino’s lobby was just as extravagant as the outside. Apparently, The Golden Lotus used their profits well, lining the floors with antique marble and the walls with ornate golden furnishings. Long red carpets stretched from the door to the elegantly-carved wooden desk, each station occupied by women whose looks definitely matched the rest of the place.

Johnny approached an empty section, staffed by a blonde woman with an elaborately woven updo. Even without the hair, she very nearly towered over the captain. She gave him a perfectly pearly-white smile.

“Welcome to the Golden Lotus! My name is Ivy, may I please see your reservation card?”

“‘Course,” he flashed her a roguish grin of his own, plucking their pilfered card from his jacket pocket. “I’m all for fashionably late, but I wouldn’t show up with the wrong reservations. June 17th, right?”

The woman looked between him and the object multiple times. “Ah, I see! Glad you were able to make it, Mr. Wilson. I was wondering why the entire suite was rented out. It’s so sweet that you brought along your kids, is this a vacation for them?”

Wilson was probably planning on sharing the suite with a half-dozen call girls, but beds were beds. It wasn’t as though they’d be using them much, anyway.

Johnny leaned in, dropping his voice. “Ehh, kinda. See the little gal in pink? That’s my sweet lil’ Lucy. It’s her birthday, ‘n she wanted to do something real fancy this year. Call me a fool, but I just can’t say no when I get those cute lil’ puppy eyes.”

“Oh goodness, well isn’t that just too precious?” The woman cooed. “I wished you’d let us know ahead of time! We’ll try and have the kitchen send up something nice for your special girl. The Golden Lotus does offer some complimentary birthday coupons.”

“Complimentary! Can’t say no to that. Thanks a bunch, darlin’.” Johnny tilted his hat. “Now, if it ain’t a hassle, we’ve had a long ride out here. Could’ja kindly point me in the direction of our suite? My poor girls are fallin’ asleep on their feet.”

“Of course, sir, or course.” She pressed down on the intercom with a perfectly manicured nail. “Send a greeter down, please.”

Not a minute later, another woman appeared from a door behind the desk. Johnny found himself oddly intrigued at the sight of her. The dress she wore was just frumpy enough to not be flattering, yet just flattering enough to not be frumpy. She was nearly as tall as he was, just about eye-level with the fancy heels she had on, but her posture was sheepish and withdrawn. A nametag labeled ‘Lily’ sat half-hidden behind a waterfall of ginger curls.

“I-I’m here! So sorry for the delay, Ivy. What did you need me for?”

The receptionist gestured to the man and his trail of kids. “Lily, can you please show our guests to their suite?”

“Oh.” After a moment, the woman’s eyes shot open wide. “Oh! Oh, gosh, um, are you sure you want me to be in charge of a high-caliber client? I-I don’t think I should-”

Johnny did his best to hide his pleasure. “Now, now, darlin’, I’m easy. Yer not gonna get any complaints from me, my folks raised a gentleman. I just wanna get my girls to bed, that’s all.”

He never would have expected someone like this in a casino. Maybe on the other side of the table, but not an employee. She had to be new.

Good. He could use that.

His honeyed delivery was quick to charm her. “Um, r-right! I understand. Follow me! I believe you’re going to be staying in suite 315. Ivy?”

“Gotcha.” The receptionist handed her an envelope. From it, she pulled several plastic cards. “This should be enough for everyone, yeah?”

Lily nodded. “I can give them to you when we get up there, Mr. Wilson. Let’s just make sure everyone makes it up there all safe and sound. Let me show you where the elevator is.”

With a timid smile, she led the group further into the belly of the casino. The girls gaped and gazed at the equally-decorated hallways and the brief sneaking glimpses of the casino floor…while also using it as an opportunity to be sure that all the blueprints and diagrams were accurate.

“Wow, papa, it looks just like the pictures you showed us!” May chirped, dialing the little-girl-cuteness to absurd levels. Nothing looked incorrect. Splendid.

“Here is your suite, sir!” Lily unlocked and opened the door with a grand flourish. “I hope it’s to your liking!”

A brand-new chorus of awestruck gasps began as soon as they saw the room. Johnny let his girls scurry by and take it all in on their own terms. It provided a perfect opportunity to give him a moment alone with the hostess and flex a little more of his charms.

He took the keycards as she offered them. “Thanks. You’re a real sweetheart. Don’t suppose I’ll be seein’ your cute face around later?”

Though her hand tried to hide it, he caught a glimpse of her smile. “I-I shouldn’t be spending too much personal time with guests, I’m really only supposed to talk to them when they need my help with something.”

“Well, that makes it real easy, then,” Johnny reclined against the doorway. “Suppose a fella needs a hand getting around the casino floor. Don’t suppose ya know any pretty hostesses that could offer a bit ‘a help there?”

Even if she was doing a better job hiding her smile, the woman’s face was turning scarlet. “I-I really- really have to get back to my station!”

“‘Couse, ma’am.” He tilted his hat in farewell. “I ain’t gonna keep ya from important work. All the best to ya.”

“G-goodnight, Mr. Wilson!”

He grinned at her quickly retreating figure. Hadn’t even stepped foot on the game floor, and he’d already scored a jackpot.

His girls were still soaking in the sights when he retreated into their little base of operations. Several had gotten to work even through their amazement, scouring every nook for hidden cameras and shuttering the blinds. April had popped open her suitcase and, as soon as she was sure there were no prying eyes, shoved aside clothing to pull out their collection of maps.

“How’s it lookin’ so far, kiddo?”

“Cautiously optimistic.” April sat cross-legged at the end of one gold-trimmed bedspread, unfolding one set of blueprints. “We need to confirm the security schedule so Novel doesn’t get caught unscrewing the vent covers. Once that’s taken care of, we can ease into phase two and work on disabling the security system.”

“Good. Good.” Johnny nodded along. “Eyes on the prize, kiddos. If we pull this off, it’s gonna be one sweet haul.”

For now, though, they had to wait. Things would start falling into place the later they got into the night. He tried to keep his girls occupied until then. Several got wrapped up in pay-per-view movies, and others busied themselves with a generous order from the hotel’s kitchen, including a fancy little cake for the alleged ‘birthday girl.’ They intended to cut it into pieces and split, but June ate most of it while nobody was looking.

Johnny spent a good long while looking in the mirror. When he was done, he headed in the direction of the exit, flashing May a two-fingered salute. “Back in a bit.”

“Wh- hold on!” She cut him off before he could leave. “This isn’t in the plan, where do you think you’re going??”

“I’m gonna go down ‘n play the floor a little. Just a few games.”

May looked at him in dismay. “You’re gambling? Really, Johnny?”

“C’mon, I thought you said you knew the plan inside ‘n out? Gettin’ my foot in the door with the staff’s a key part in makin’ sure everything goes the way we want it to. Gotta case the place in person. I got my own money.”

“Alright, alright, fine! I…I trust you. Just try and stay focused, okay?” She pouted.

“May, hon, trust me. ‘Focused’ is my middle name.”

“...I thought your middle name was ‘Carter.’”

“Khhh- not the point.” Johnny waved her down. “I’ll be back with plenty of time to spare. Y’all just make sure you keep an eye on the schedule. Yer gonna be on time, right?”

“Of course I am. Dont’cha trust me?”

“Of course I do. Which means you’d best trust me back.”

“I do! I do, just don’t go spending all the allowance I gave you! Don’t go and lose it all!”

While she was busy berating him, Johnny slipped by and eased the door open. By the time May realized it, he was already slipping out. “J-Johnny!”

“Easy, kiddo, easy. You know me,” he smirked, “I never lose.”

The Mayship was the one place that always felt like home, but a close second would be the plush carpeting of a casino floor. The clatter of roulette balls and the plinks of card shufflers were like a second heartbeat. He was right in his element, flanked on all sides by machines of fate that he’d coax into his lap with enough time. First, he just had to take it all in.

Johnny spotted one of the few obvious employees on the floor and approached. A svelte blonde twink, exactly his type, ferrying a half-empty tray of glasses. He was wearing a maroon uniform, a similar sort to what he’d seen on the receptionist, but far less modest. The vest was cut just too tight and just too short, offering an unprofessional but definitely teasing stripe of pale skin.

He tried not to stare too much. “Hey there, cutie. Could I get a nice tall glass of the house special?”

As expected, his delivery got him a coy giggle. “Of course, mister! Coming right up!”

The barista hurried off, his gait just wobbling enough to threaten the empty glasses on his tray. Had he been drinking? Definitely unprofessional. Maybe he could make use of that later.

He thumbed through the thick stack of bills in his pocket. Only a couple hundred, but with his luck, it was sure to multiply. Oh, but where to start? That was the real problem. He had to pick a game first before he could clear it out. This casino was a quality sort, with different tables of game stretching out in every direction. So many games, so little time.

He casually wandered along the floor, taking in all the sights and sounds that he could. Busy night. He’d expected that much. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew he had to keep things subtle, he would have helped himself to the pockets of other distracted gamblers. Many of them were in a stupor, eyes glued to the slot wheels and community pots. Johnny knew the type. Once you were deep into a game, no matter how you were doing, it was easy to have your focus wholly devoted to it and nothing else. Even as a seasoned gambler, there were times when stepping away from a long stint felt like waking up from a deep daydream. Unlike most of his fellow gamblers, however, his were always sweet, sweet dreams to wake up from.

Maybe he could pick up something for his girls once they were outta here. If they successfully emptied the casino vaults, they’d have plenty of spare cash flying around, but there was something a lot more personal about buying gifts with his own winnings. July’s sword was getting pretty worn out, perhaps he could spring for a nice new birthday dagger. Or Leap, she’d mentioned something about another glass cracking last week-

A thought struck him that he hadn’t gotten his drink from before. Johnny wondered if the guy had just hit the end of his shift, but it didn’t take long for him to be found again. It was hard to be particularly subtle with an outfit like that, let alone the noisy chatter he was making with another employee.

“Hey. Blondie. I’m sure you’re busy ‘n all, but didja get the drink I asked for?”

The waiter stared at him with a blank, unreactive expression. Johnny, growing impatient, snapped his fingers. “Prettyboy. Hey. You awake?”

Very slowly, the man blinked back at him. His neutral mask turned chipper again. “Jeepers! I forgot! Hahaha, whoopsie, super sorry about that! I’ll go get it right now!”

He scampered off again, just as swaying and wobbly as he’d been before. Maybe using him as a resource was a bad idea, couldn’t have some tipsy idiot blabbing everything to someone who really didn’t need to know.

Perhaps he’d spent too long at this end of the floor. As he started walking, a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Oh! Mr. Wilson! I’m surprised to see you down here, it’s awfully late. Didn’t you say you were putting your daughters to bed?”

Despite his surprise, Johnny played it off coolly. He regarded the hostess with a friendly, offhand wave. “Yeah, girls finally ended up nodding off. Seems like whenever I get one to bed, another wakes up! Figured I’d take a little bit of ‘me time’ to unwind from it.”

Lily’s expression of surprise turned to understanding. “I can imagine it’s hard to relax. Kids have so much energy, don’t they? Whenever we have kids staying here, it can be a bit of trouble.” She paused, before her eyes flew open. “N-not to say there’s anything wrong with bringing them! I-I just mean it takes a little work to keep them under control. Last time we had a guest whose son had a rather poor reaction to one of the fruits in our punch, poor thing was climbing up the walls for hours.”

Drinks. It made for a useful conversation bridge. “Hey, uh, on that note, weird question. Your waiter been drinking? He’s a little…out of it.”

“Waiter?” Her brows knitted together. “I don’t suppose you saw his nametag?”

“‘Fraid not. Blonde hair, kinda underdressed?”

Lily put a hand to her chin. “Hum, that sounds a bit like Kitty. Was he giving you trouble?”

“Wouldn’t say ‘trouble,’ just seemed a lil’ out of it. Forgot the drink I ordered.”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. He’s a little scatterbrained. He means well, but I’ll have to let the floor staff know he’s been causing trouble for guests.” She turned flustered, looking off in the direction of the slots.

Sensing another opportunity for some schmoozing, Johnny nudged her in a different direction. “It’s fine, really. Don’t waste all night worrying about it, okay?”

“Huh? W-well, if you say so…”

“And I do. Let’s try to have some fun, okay? This is a casino! Ain’t that the whole point? Say, you’re the expert here, which games you recommend trying?”

“Uh,” she looked off rather aimlessly. A hand found its way into her mouth, chewing at the end of her nails.

“Now, now, don’t go ‘n overthink it! Let’s see, ahh-” He moved the pair of them over to the nearest possible table on his side, brilliantly labeled ’Roulette’ in elegant neon above the board.

The croupier was a tall, statuesque woman with intricately-braided locs and a coy smile. As the ball clattered to a stop, she took a shining gold rake to sweep away all the losing bets, to a chorus of dismayed moans from losing players. While the table was between rounds, Johnny took the opportunity to weasel in. At the table’s head, the woman immediately took notice of the other girl.

“Lily. Don’t see you here too often, need something?” She asked, voice thick with a posh accent.

“Eve- uh, evening, Iris! I, um…” The woman faltered.

Johnny took it upon himself to intervene. “Iris, huh? Man, what’s a fella supposed to do with so many lovely ladies around!? Somethin’ stunning to see, no matter what way I look!”

He could hear Lily falling into her timid giggles once more. Iris scoffed, still with her smile. “Place a bet or two, I’d hope. Can’t stand around all day making flirty chit-chat.”

“Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up in faux-surrender, approaching the table. “Since yer askin’ so nicely. Roulette’s a fun time, anyway. Nice ‘n easy.”

“Easy?” The woman’s voice was dense with disbelief.

He had a hook! “Yep. Easy as. Roulette’s as easy as a stroll in the park.”

“...Uh-huh.” She remained unconvinced. “Fine, then, mister bigshot, care to back up your boast?”

He felt Lily pulling on his jacket sleeve. “You don’t- you don’t have to do anything, sir! Iris doesn’t really mean it, we’re not supposed to- “

“It’s fine, Miss Lily. Was having a hard time deciding what game to sweep first. Suppose this makes it easier to decide.” Johnny peeled off a stack of bills from his pocket and dropped it by the heap of chips at the table head. “Gimme a stack of the yellows. I’m bettin’ red.”

“Certainly, sir.”

When he looked back over his shoulder, the hostess was shaking her head in dismay. “Y-you shouldn’t be so reckless. Don’t let her prod you like that!”

“Hey, hey, I’m not letting anyone do anything! Just having a bit of good old fashioned fun. Trust me, nobody pushes me around unless I want ‘em to.”

The other gamblers around him cast their bets, pushing chip piles of various heights to various spots on the board. Once all the bets were made, Iris sent the wheel spinning with one strong pull, and tossed in the ball soon after. A chorus of overlapping voices pleaded and goaded the ball to stop where they wanted it to, but it simply rolled on, spinning and spinning until it slowed, finally landing squarely on-

“Twenty-five red.” There was a clear tinge of surprise in the announcer’s voice. “...Alright, beginner’s luck. It’s a fifty-fifty chance on color, anyway” She offered back a slightly bigger pile than the one he’d started with.

Now to work a little crowd magic. “Sure. Let’s narrow it down, then. First twelve.” He shoved his pile of chips back across the board with the heel of his hand.

The sleeve of his jacket ruffled as Lily winced against him. Iris sent him an odd look. “You sure? Alright, big guy…”

Lily looked at him as though he’d killed something right in front of her. “Y-you’re being really reckless!”

“Naww, it’s just for fun, darlin’! C’mon, aint’cha having fun?”

The rest of the players cast their bets. Iris sent the wheel spinning again. Johnny watched it go with hungry eyes.

“Four black.”

Both employees stared in surprise. Lily tugged on his sleeve again. “You did it? You- you really did it!”

“‘Course I did.” He grinned. “Like I said. Easy.”

Iris scoffed. “Okay, okay, made your point. Probably should take your winnings and leave.”

“Heh! You say that ‘cause now you’re realizing I’m the real deal. C’mon, honey, let’s take it up a notch. ‘nother round. Gonna bet a street, 28-29-30.” As soon as the croupier gave him his winnings from the last bet, he pushed them back into play.

Around and around the ball went once more, with other gamblers tossing in bets before it started to slow. A couple of them copied Johnny’s bets with their own piles of chips.

“Thirty red.”

The crowd burst into a mix of disappointed moans and cheers of delight. The latter not for their own winnings, but from witnessing the black-coated man’s predictions come true once more. Johnny folded his arms across his chest, nodding to himself.

“Thought so. Time to hit the jackpot.”

“Mr. Wilson! This is way too far! This is way too risky!” The hostess’ pleas turned pointed.

He just shook her off. “Hey, it ain’t a risk if you’re right, is it? Hey, Iris, take all’a my chips and put ‘em on thirteen. I’m feelin’ lucky today.”

The woman just shook her head and did as requested. Nearly half of the table copied his bet, faces bright and hungry to share in the man’s good luck. Johnny took in the scene with satisfaction. The table always went in his favor, it was only a matter of time. Nice. It felt real, real nice.

When he stared at the spinning wheel, however, he suddenly found himself just the slightest bit dizzy. Puzzled, he pinched his eyes shut and willed the feeling away. Probably just motion sickness. Despite himself, he had gotten really into the game.

Couldn’t look away too long, though. He had to keep an eye on the ball and watch it eventually stop right on thirt-

“Fifteen black.”

Dismay and frustration overshadowed the table. Several sulked away from their failed bets, several more sent the man rude looks from their collective failure, and most simply had their engagement broken by such a loss as to not bother playing again.

Johnny just stared. He’d lost.

He never lost.

“Sorry, mate. Beginner’s luck goes quick, don’t it?” Iris’ voice had more than a little smug satisfaction as she swept away his entire pile of chips.

The loss itself was a harsher blow than the money. Him, the natural-born gambler? The guy who had been thrown out of endless betting games for his unnatural streaks of luck? How had he fumbled at the last second like that?! That kind of thing- it just didn’t happen to him! It never did!

Lily, at least, was sympathetic. “Rough luck, sir. Want to call it a night?”

Johnny clenched his jaw and shook his head. Just a fluke. He’d win it back, he always did.

He…his head felt…wrong.

With a few stumbling steps, he walked away from the noise of the roulette wheel. The craps table was a little quieter, maybe that would help. When he put his hand into his pocket to pay for more chips, it felt a lot lighter than it had been not too long ago.

Johnny kept his expression steely as he threw another stack of bills onto the board. “Get me some chips, I wanna make a bet.”

He tried to approach the new game with the same bravado he’d had with the last. This one wasn’t even all luck, it was statistics. He could do the math, pick a reasonable outcome based on the probability- ah jeez, all these math words were making his headache worse. Point was, he knew what approach to take, then it was just a matter of picking the best-

“Oh, whoops, looks like a seven this time. Bad roll. Wanna try again?

No matter what he placed, pass, don’t pass, any number on the board, each fell through quicker than a wet paper towel. Not a single successful call. His chips disappeared just as fast as he could buy them.

“S-sir, please-” Lily insisted. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

Blackjack. He’d try blackjack. There wasn’t much money left in his pocket, but it was enough. Enough to buy in, which meant enough to win. Because he was going to win. He had to.

Because blackjack was easy, right? So simple and straightforward. Just had to get enough cards to make 18- no, 21, it was 21. He all but threw his money at the poor dealer, who meekly returned to him a meager palmful of chips. The look on her face made him immediately want to apologize (wasn’t he supposed to be a gentleman?) but all he could focus on was the game. Everything else could come after.

By the time he blinked, he was staring down a short stack of cards that easily shot past 21 points. Someone across the table snickered.

“Sorry, mister,” the dealer said, half-hiding behind her hair. “I-I dunno why you wanted to hit again when you were already at 19 points, but-”

Anything else she said breezed right over his head. He’d already picked up the gist, already knew the most important part. Another failure. Another loss.

Impossible.

“Mr. Wilson? Are you okay, sir? Do you need a drink? Do you want to go back to your suite and lie down for a bit?”

“I’ll- I’ll be f’ne-” he slurred, desperately trying to hold onto what little composure he had left. “Jus’ gotta clear m’ head. Got- gotta get my mojo back. Just gotta have…a good game.”

He just had to win again. Had to break the streak. This was just a funk, just his brain playing tricks. As soon as he went back to winning, everything would feel right again. Why…why did his head feel so slow? Had it been so long since he’d lost a game that it fucked with him that badly?

Lily trailed behind him, expression innocent and unassuming despite the fact that he had to be staggering around like a drunk. “Hmm. Well, it doesn’t look like you were doing too well with the roulette. Not too good on craps or blackjack, either. Would you like to try something else? Maybe the slots?”

Slots. He’d never been much of a fan. But at this point, he was getting desperate. The mechanical pings and whirs in the distance almost sounded like a beckoning melody. There wasn’t much left to lose, right? But before he could even try and head off in that direction, he was interrupted.

“Ooh, poker! I’ve got a biiiig soft spot for poker. Do you know how to play Texas Hold-’em?”

He- he had to, didn’t he? He was a gambler, what gambler didn’t know how to play poker?

She didn’t wait for him to reply, instead hooking an arm around his and tugging him in the direction of a nearly-empty table. It quickly cleared out. Lily didn’t react, merely chatting it up with the dealer, much as she had earlier.

“Hi there, Zinnia! Can you deal a couple of hands for me and my new friend?”

Before he knew it, he was sitting at the table across from her. Part of him was glad to be seated with how the room continued to spin. Another part wanted to be far, far away from this place, but he was sure his legs didn’t work well enough to try and run away.

Lily remained oblivious as the dealer shuffled her deck. She sat with her chin propped up on her hand, the other toying with a poker chip from her pile. Johnny just tried to keep himself sitting upright. He should have turned in after the roulette table. He wanted to get out of here. Even if his head didn’t clear, he’d have his girls to keep an eye on him- oh god, the girls. How late was it? How much time had passed? Casinos didn’t have clocks to check. Even if they did, something told him reading it would be a struggle.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Lily’s cheery voice briefly distracted him from his stupor. “Let’s play a little game while we play this game! I’ll ask you some questions, you give me the answer! I’ll even give you money if you win. Easy, right? You’ll make all your money back in no time!”

He couldn’t say no. Really, he couldn’t. His mouth didn’t want to move. It felt like he was melting. He wondered if he could even get through a game before viscous bits of him started dripping onto the floor.

“Of course, if you lose, you’ve gotta pay me, instead! That’s just fair, isn’t it? It’d be so one-sided otherwise!”

It was only fair…but could he risk that? Did he have a choice?

He took the cards he was handed. A thumb tugged against the glossy laminate to let him get a peek at what he was working with. A pair. Pretty good luck. That sounded more like it.

“Got some good cards?” Asked Lily, tilting to try and get a look. “Kidding, kidding! So, anyway, I put both of our money into the pot. You didn’t have much money left, so it’d be super boring if we had such a small pot. But that means if you lose all the money I gave you, you’re gonna owe me for it! Oh, I’m not supposed to do that, but I’m having so much fun playing with you! I couldn’t help it!”

What- when had she reached into his pocket? Upon shoving his hand into it, he realized it was entirely empty. He was supposed to be the thief here! How bad did he have to be if he didn’t notice someone swiping his things?! What’s more, the size of the chip pile hadn’t even occurred to him. It was way, way too big to have been bought with the cash he had left. How much money had she thrown in??

The dealer set out the first two cards. A queen and a ten. Was that good? No, no, right, he couldn’t tell yet.

He watched Lily scrutinize the table, then her cards. She placed a generous handful of chips into the middle of the table. A look was sent his way.

“Do you wanna fold? No shame in folding!”

It would have been the safer option. Just fold, taking away any risk of a bad hand, and just keep answering Lily’s questions until he won some cash back. He really, really couldn’t afford to play it risky anymore.

“Call.”

A stab of panic rippled through him. He hadn’t meant to say that, why had it come out of him?

Lily grinned. “Glad you’ve still got some gambling spirit in you! I like that. So let’s start with the questions!”

He watched her scoot over, pushing several strands of hair back over her shoulder. “How many cards do you start off with in a hand?”

Easy. It literally could not have been an easier question. Johnny looked down at the cards in front of him…

…and had absolutely no idea what to say. There were- fuck, he wasn’t that out of it, was he? How the hell did he not know something as simple as goddamn numbers??

Dammit- deep breath in, stay focused. Don’t get distracted by the lights. Count. One card, two cards-

“Two. It- there’s two.”

Lily clasped her hands together. “Aww, well, that one was super easy, but still! Here.” She pushed over a few chips to his side. “Nice job!”

A rush of calm rolled over him. More thoughts fell into line. The harsh lights in the distance seemed to ease. Right. Normal. Gotta keep cool. Everything was gonna be just fine, he always slipped through and came out on top, no matter what the odds.

He checked the cards he’d been dealt. Checked them again. Checked again. He kept forgetting what they were. A…a ten? Which card had the diamonds on it? Wait, no, stupid question, they all did, didn’t they? The pretty pictures were just a distraction. The important part was on the- back? No, that wasn’t right either. He checked his cards again. The numbers vanished from his head the second he put them back down.

“I’ll raise the bet.” Lily took some more chips from her pile and moved it to the pot. “Next question! Which card’s called ‘the Suicide King?”

His focus, meager as it was, skidded to a stop. Trick question, wasn’t it? ‘Suicide King,’ that meant it had to be the king. Right? Wait, wait, but there were multiple kings, it was only one of them that got called that. One of the suites. How many were there? Four? Six? He waited for one thought to feel correct, but none of them did. He couldn’t find the name. One had something to do with plants, or maybe gardening? Some kind of garden tool? What was the damn name?!

“Shovels,” Johnny answered, tentative and uncertain.

“Well, I’m gonna assume you meant spades? Same difference, I guess. Uh, no, that’s not it. It’s…” She glanced off as the next card flipped over. “Oh, hey! There it is! Isn’t that a funny coincidence. It’s that one.” Lily pointed to it.

He looked over, but all he could make out was a colorful smear on the felt. The more he tried to focus, the more it seemed the colors danced and congealed into nonsense. Was this even a real deck? It didn’t look like any cards he’d seen before.

“Gonna raise a little more. I can’t help it, you gave me more to bet!” The woman laughed. Another heap of chips had it so most of Lily’s pile was now in the center pot.

Almost mechanically, he copied the motion. “Call.”

The next card was flipped over. A…seven? Maybe? Could he even use a seven? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel right. What were his cards again? Had they handed those out already? The more he tried to focus, the more his head hurt.

“Let’s see if you can be luckier with this question! Well, I mean, Zinnia just said the answer, so it’s at least a little easier! What’s the name for the fifth community card?”

Of course he hadn’t heard her say anything. Even if he could focus, the pounding in his ears was drowning a lot of the noise out. She might as well just have given him a cardboard box and told him to make a working rocket.

Damn it, he wasn’t going to give up like some kind of loser! There was an answer, he just had to use sense and intuit it. Right! All the cards in the middle had names. The first three were all together, the fourth was its own, so was the fifth. The first three were…flop cards. That sounded right. The fourth had something to do with roads. And the fifth with…plants? No, not quite. The woods? That sounded closer, at least. Something in the woods. Flop, road-something, woods. Papa had given him a little way of remembering it when he was first learning, ’a flop ‘round the turn and ya fall into the...‘

“The…lake…?”

“Ooh, real close! I almost want to give that one to you. It’s the river. Sorry, but that’s another point for me!” She helped herself to a scattering of his chips.

Johnny looked down to the side. Between the calls and the failed questions, he’d only been left with a few pitiful poker chips. Even if he was allowed to walk away at that very moment, he’d only be heading back upstairs with a few dollars. He couldn’t stomach the thought. He wouldn’t be able to bear the humiliation of such a profound losing streak.

“That’s all five community cards.” The dealer announced. “Call or fold?”

Lily’s eyes were shimmering like sapphires. “If it’s the last round, might as well go all-in, right? It’s more exciting that way!” The last of her chips were added to the pile. “Okie-dokie, last question for the last round!! This one’s gotta be a cakewalk for a guy like you, right? So go ahead and tell me- what’s the hand that ranks higher than a straight flush?”

Without even thinking, he tossed the last chips into the monumental heap. Desperate didn’t begin to describe the feeling coursing through his blood, pulsing against his skull. “Call. God damn it. Call.”

He looked over the cards in the middle again and again. Q. 10. K. 7. Q again.

Why were there two? Why did that feel familiar?

There were- four suites in a deck, that was right! Two queens! Two queens in the community pot, so the other two were in the rest of the deck. And he knew where they were!

Johnny picked up his cards. Two in play and two in his hand, that was a hand! He knew what that was, four queens together made-

“Four-of-a-kind!” A shout ripped from his lungs as he flung his cards into the center.

The table went silent.

He panted from the exertion. His sweat-drenched bangs plastered his cheeks.

He could hear how she sucked the air in through her teeth. “Well, that’s a really good guess, but…”

His heart sank.

“The best hand’s a royal flush.” She overturned her cards.

The jack and ace of hearts.

It felt like someone slugged him in the chest. He slumped back in his seat, dizzy and lost. None of the building’s neon lights spelled out words anymore. They were just unreadable lumps of color. He didn’t need to read them, anyway. It was pointless. He knew what he needed to know. The natural-born gambler had been bested on his own playing field.

Lily swept the entire stack of chips over to her side. “Oh, well, gosh! It looks like you ran all out of money! That’s a real shame, isn’t it? And your hand was so good, too!”

Johnny tried to remember what cards he’d had. It wouldn’t come back to him. No, wait, she’d said ‘hand,’ did she mean his real ones? He looked down at them, but they were completely unremarkable. She had to mean cards, right? Hold on, why was he thinking about cards in the first place? Had he been playing games with somebody?

The room was spinning. He felt like he was going to throw up. The harsh colors and parade of noises were threatening to strangle him where he sat. The once-familiar warmth and weight of his own coat had become unbearably uncomfortable, and if not for the fact that his arms were limp at his sides, he would have shucked all of his clothes off in the middle of the floor, just to try and cool down.

“Luh- Lily-” He managed to slur. “I wanna leave.”

She tapped a finger against her cheek, unfazed. “Well, you’re a real cutie, but I can’t exactly just let you leave when you owe me money, can I? That’s just not fair! We’re all hard-working women here at the Lotus, we wouldn’t last very long if we just let all the losers go, would we? We wouldn’t even be able to keep the lights on!”

Wow, so that’s how lights worked? That sounded real silly, but-

He shook his head. Where the hell had that thought come from? Why couldn’t he think straight?

Someone plucked the sunglasses from his face and passed them over to Lily. Having his face exposed made him feel even more vulnerable than he already did. He numbly reached out to take them back, but someone else grabbed his arm and bent it behind his back.

“I-I dun’- I don’t understand…”

“Mmm. That’s fair. At this point, there’s probably not a lot going on upstairs, is there?”

He didn’t know what stairs had anything to do with it. Weren’t they downstairs? Or had they taken the el-oh-vaders? He never remembered what those dumb things were called, he wasn’t a eng- injy- a- a machine-fixer!

In his distraction, the table was surrounded by staff. He thought he recognized some of them…oh, but maybe he was just making stuff up, he sure had a lot of funny thoughts sometimes!

A brief jolt of coherency struck him like ice water to the face. This was bad, this was bad, this was very, very bad, he needed to get away, run as fast as he could and get back to…back…to…

“You can go, just as soon as you pay off all the money you owe!” He knew the voice, or at least he thought he did. Couldn’t think of what her name was, though. It felt like it was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet-

Someone else pulled the hat off of his head. He reached out, but- why? He’d already forgotten what he was trying to do. Sitting up felt hard. Thinking felt so, so hard…

“Don’t worry, it’ll be easy. So easy, you won’t even have to think while you work! Just smile and look cute for the customers. Piece of cake, right?”

They were gonna give him cake after, too?? He hoped it was chocolate, chocolate was his favorite! He’d just had cake earlier that night, he’d cut it up and shared it with…um, somebody. Heehee, he couldn’t remember!

“Hmm. You know, I don’t think you ever ended up telling me your real name, Mr. Jellyfish Pirate. Care to fill me in?”

Jellyfish? He wasn’t a jellyfish, he was just a guy! Well, weren’t jellyfish supposed to be all floaty and brainless and dumb? Maybe he was a jellyfish, he sure felt all nice and floaty and empty-headed. He loved being a jellyfish! He wanted to be a jellyfish all the time!

The nice lady across the table with the nice sunglasses smiled at him. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. I think ‘Bunny’ is a much better name for you, don’t you, girls?”

He just grinned back, eyes vacant and empty. Most of that kinda talking was for smart people, not him. He wasn’t any good at thinking, thinking was stupid! That’s why he had all the nice women around, they did the big thoughts and told him what to do. He was happy to listen. So if they said he was Bunny, he had to be, didn’t he? Bunny was too dumb to remember what his name was before- if he even had one at all! He’d probably always been Bunny, he just forgot it a lot. How nice of the ladies to remind him!

Someone pulled on his arm until he stood up. He wobbled back and forth, but one of the women was nice enough to hold his arm and keep him steady. “C’mon, Bunny, let’s get you all dressed up and ready for your shift! I’m sure our uniform is gonna look so cute on you.”

The man giggled in delight, following along wherever he was pulled. How silly of him! Getting all distracted when he was supposed to be working! What a big ol’ dummy he was. He sure was glad his bosses did all the thinking for him.

------

“Where could he be?”

“May, you know the plan. It’s way too late-”

“S-shut up, April! He’ll be back, I know it!”

“But even if he does, it’s way too late for everything to work. We can’t get into the upstairs offices without the key. And we can’t get the key once the evening-shift security leaves, and they’re heading out in-”

A third voice cut in. “Guys, we gotta move! Novel said the staff was looking suspicious while she was splicing into the radio, if we don’t bail now, we’re in trouble!”

“Not you too, Octy! You and April just wanna leave him??”

“We have to.” April insisted. “It won’t do any of us any good if we sit around and wait to get arrested! There’s no ‘if’ anymore, it’s leave now or wait for the cops to get us!”

“But…but Johnny-”

“Johnny will be fine. He’ll catch up, just like always,” she tried to comfort her sister with a weak smile. “He always finds a way out. I’m sure he’s just fine.”

------

“It sounds like our little would-be thieves have scurried back to their rat hole.” The woman leaned back in her chair. “Cameras spotted them escaping off the balcony an hour ago with a rope made out of the suite’s bedsheets.”

“Ah, what a shame. Those sheets are hard to clean. I hope they didn’t make a mess of them.”

“Speaking of messes…” She moved to a different console. “Hopefully our new recruit’s starting to get a handle on things.”

They watched an overhead view of the main bar. Their head tender Rose was busy finishing up a tray of drinks. When she finished, she slid them all across the counter to the man on the opposite side.

Most thieves were known for being slender and limber instead of broad-shouldered and buff, so their usual uniform was holding on for dear life against his well-developed muscles. From what feedback they’d gotten, though, so far it was proving to be a hit with their guests. His uncovered eyes were innocent and soft, which created an appealing contrast that made him hard to resist.

The bartender gestured for him to pick up the tray and hold it. No microphone meant no sound came through that camera, but the emphasis of her movements told them she was growing impatient. Odds were that they’d repeated the routine already.

And it seemed they would again. He picked up the tray. At first, he kept it balanced in both hands, earning him a hopeful look from the bartender. But the very moment he tried taking a step, he stumbled over his own uncoordinated feet and sent everything sliding. He wound up wearing most of the drinks he was supposed to carry. Even at the odd angle, it was easy to see the thick trails of shining alcohol that painted down his face and chest and made his hair stick to itself in clumps.

The bartender threw up her hands in aggravation, then folded them and scowled. Her barista didn’t attempt to say anything. He just gave her a blank, stupid smile and laughed. She rolled her eyes and reluctantly smirked, reaching across the bar counter to ruffle his messy hair, to his absolute delight.

“God, I swear they get dumber every time.” The woman at the computer covered her face as she laughed. “But It’s so damn adorable. You sure we can’t keep this one?”

Lily shook her head, taking a long drag from her cigarette. “You know the rules, Dahlia, we gotta give him back in a couple of weeks or else everyone gets suspicious. Doesn’t matter if they’re criminals, rats make a ruckus. Somebody important’s gonna overhear sooner or later. We can’t have the government on our tail for a bunch of missing persons reports. Even if he is cute.” She sighed. "We'll just have to get as much mileage as we can in the meantime..."

Chapter Text

It was not the first time Zappa had awoken with a headache, but this was easily the worst.

Through the sharp, stabbing pain in his temples, he tried to recite the old list he’d once memorized. Deciphering the various reasons behind a headache, picking through the list one by one, addressing any potential symptoms until he found the root cause. Difficult to do while still half-conscious, but he could make do. It was his day off, anyway.

How annoying. No point in delaying and hoping it’d go away, it never did. Maybe just getting up and splashing his face would clear it up, sometimes that helped. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, letting his half-limp arms fall up.

…Up?

The light hurt his eyes and worsened the throb in his skull. He still tried to squint through it. It seemed too low for sunlight, but was definitely too bright for a lamp. When he sluggishly attempted to turn away from the light, there was more wherever he turned to, just as harsh.

Where was he? This absolutely wasn’t his bed. Had he passed out somewhere and ended up in the hospital again? It didn’t smell like a hospital, he’d become very familiar with the smell of hospital cleaners hastily half-masked with laundry detergent. And, even on the slight off chance that it was, it didn’t explain why he seemed to be upside-down.

Zappa felt around blindly, fighting through the harsh light and gravity. He wasn’t wearing his pajamas, but this didn’t feel like his work uniform, either. Had Randy lent him something? It didn’t quite fit.

“The prophet awakens!”

He winced at the sound, awkwardly trying to cover his ears while gravity pulled in a way he wasn’t used to. The distant lights burned halos in his vision. What was going on? If there were other people around, why weren’t they doing anything? Why weren’t they helping him?

“Devoted followers!” A booming voice called. “We have been blessed!”

Did they even know he was there? Maybe- maybe he’d gotten trapped in something, and they couldn’t see him. Was there a way to get their attention?

Zappa attempted a clumsy squirm, hoping whatever had snared him would loosen, or would at least make enough ruckus to attract help. The material of his bindings was rough and unpleasant as it dug into the skin of his ankles. Every time he tried to move, he winced at how it scratched away the unprotected skin.

It appeared as though the strangers still couldn’t hear him. As he tried to open his mouth and call for aid, the low voice spoke up again.

“Elder Leona has brought to us the vessel. She will be rewarded highly for her service to the church. The grand spirit willing, she shall be one of the first to reach the Otherlands in person.”

“It was no feat at all, really. I believe his high radiance recognized my faith and chose to show himself to me.”

That voice. Weathered and soft but warm. Right. Something about that felt familiar. That old lady, the one who’d asked him for help with her jammed walker. It hadn’t taken much more than knocking out the pebbles stuck in the wheel spokes and screwing a loose bolt in a little tighter, but she’d been so overjoyed about the whole thing she’d invited him over for a…drink? A meal? Something like that. He couldn’t remember anything after that, it all just felt fuzzy.

Oh. Oh no. He shouldn’t have drank what she’d given him, should he?

Forcing open his unprepared eyes absolutely did not help his sore head, but Zappa was past worrying about that right now. The world was still blurry, but he could make out some shapes and colors. Outside of the spots of light, everything around him was dark and muted. Something was moving back and forth across his vision.

He let his head drop to ease the glare of the lights. The floor wasn’t far below. It at least made it easier to analyze. Some kind of dark marble, cut into long panels. What was this place?? Why was he here??

“What’s going on?!” The thought managed to escape his mouth.

There were two shadowy figures close by to him. Both recoiled at the sound. “The prophet speaks to us!” The owner of the deep voice said.

“Who are you?!” The raised platform told him this was some kind of display. None of this was accidental. But what for? It couldn’t be anything good. His imagination was already running away from him. Thoughts of sharp weapons to skin him alive or bludgeoning tools to break his bones danced through his frayed thoughts.

The vague masses beyond the stage stirred. It was difficult to make out what they were saying, but something told him that their timbre was one of eagerness. Whatever was happening, they were enjoying it. Whatever they were going to do, the people were excited to carry out. To watch.

Zappa tried to look at the man with the deep voice. None of his features came through the shadows and became coherent. It frightened him even more.

“Puh- please-” he stuttered, “don’t hurt me, please.”

“We won’t hurt you,” the man said. His pitch dropped into something soft, something that was meant to be shared only between those close by. “We can’t. We need you.”

Alright, somehow that was even more concerning. “I can’t- I can’t give you anything, I swear! I don’t have money, I-I don’t have anything you want!”

“Oh, but you don’t understand. You can. You are special. To our church, you are invaluable, the divine made tangible. You are the holy essence of our very spirituality.”

He didn’t understand any of it. He was just a man. A weird man, sure, but ‘weird’ was nowhere near comparable to ‘invaluable’ or ‘holy’ or whatever else this weirdo was saying to him. Did Randy know he was gone? Did anyone? Someone had to notice after a long enough absence, but Zappa had no idea how long it had been.

“I don’t understand- what do you want from me?!” He wailed in terror.

What he assumed was a hand gestured to the strange space surrounding them. “We have followed you now, watching from the fringes. We were uncertain, at first, but now there can be no argument. Your body, your abilities. You must be the gatekeeper we have spent so many years seeking out. All of our most sacred texts point to you.”

It wasn’t as though they’d just plucked him off of the street for no reason. They had been stalking him. What had he done to deserve that? These people had it all wrong, he wasn’t ‘divine’ or any kind of prophet, he was just incredibly unlucky. Why did they care, anyway? Why did that mean anything?

”Who are you?!”

The figure shook his head. “Individual names are not important now.”

A sudden, strange thought struck him that Randy probably would have taken that opportunity to make a terrible joke. Zappa wasn’t sure why that was where his mind went. Maybe it was a feeble attempt at self-comfort. Thinking about familiar places and familiar people was the best he had right now.

“Our congregation represents the Church of the Hanged Man.”

The confusion must have shown on his face. “That may not sound familiar to you. This is intentional. Our followers rarely interact with those outside of the church. We remain secluded to our places of worship. Our duty is to follow the holy scripture of the Otherlands.”

The more he went on, the less all of this made sense. So he’d been drugged, kidnapped and strung up by…some kind of cult?

“But…but why am I-”

“Our forefathers worshipped the Otherlands.” The stranger continued. “They devoted their lives to pursuing its radiance. A rare few were blessed with mere visions of it, but you…you offer the impossible. Not a mere window or a crack in the wall, but a door. For the first time in our lives, we are offered true pilgrimage!”

“Pilgrimage! Pilgrimage!” Others in the gathering called out.

“We will cross to the great beyond!” One voice cried.

Zappa felt his eyes widen. The lights in the audience below stung. “‘Otherlands’...w-wait, are you talking about the Backyard?”

“That is the name given to it by those outside of the church.”

“I-i- it’s not a promised land, it’s just an operating system!” He tried to plead. “It’s not supposed to be a place that people can go!”

Despite his warnings, it only seemed to encourage their leader further. “Yes, the system that operates the world. The purest essence of existence. Isn’t it glorious? Of course it would not be a place that is easily accessed. Our congregation has been praying to and seeking out manifestations of the Otherlands for nearly two centuries now. Common folk may not have devoted themselves to its majesty, but many of us have spent our entire lives seeking passage. We are devoted. We are educated in its ways. We are worthy of passing into its folds. And you are its envoy. You will grant us such passage.”

“But- but I don’t know how!”

“I understand your words. It is wise to try and dissuade the unworthy. They are not yet ready for its radiance. We are. We have trained ourselves to withstand its overwhelming power. We are no fools, great vessel, and we know this ability will not simply be handed to us.”

Even without seeing his face, the man’s excitement was palpable. He strode across the platform and beckoned to the audience. “It is time! The time to breach the barrier has arrived! Come, fellow disciples, let us rejoice!”

The crowd rippled, crying out with delight. It shouldn’t have surprised him that a bunch of people willing to kidnap him under some bizarre assumption he was some keystone to their unhinged Backyard-worship wouldn’t listen to any other rational talk. Despite what they had done to him, Zappa felt frightened on their behalf. He didn’t like the idea of people callously throwing themselves to their own deaths, even moreso when he was supposedly going to contribute to that. How exactly they planned to do that, likewise, had him hopelessly confused, to the point of reinvigorating his migraine.

Something was roughly shoved against his lips, some sort of container filled with thick, bittersweet liquid. As soon as he tasted it, Zappa clenched his teeth and forced his mouth shut. Someone held his nose until he had no other choice to try and breathe another way. As soon as he opened, before he had time to protest or plead, he had to swallow to avoid drowning in whatever they were trying to force-feed him.

It burned as it went down, but not in a wholly unpleasant way…and that immediately set him off. He refused to derive any kind of positive feeling from any of this, he wouldn’t be lulled into false security and complacency.

The warmth sat heavy in his stomach, but something hoisted him further into the air with ease. As he looked down, he could see the ground moving further and further away. The thought of falling now made him shudder and squeeze his eyes shut. Was that the point? It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Were they going to drop him and hope it broke his skull?

Maybe it wouldn’t take that long. He could make out an itch in the back of his neck and a faint tingling in his extremities. Poison? Had they poisoned him? Oh god, he didn’t want to die! Not like this! He wasn’t- wait, but the sensation wasn’t burning. It didn’t register as pain, not even exhaustion. Quite the contrary. It felt like energy.

The sensation of flowing mana sent an odd fizzle down his spine. He knew the feeling of casting- or, at least, trying to cast- incantations and spells, but this was different. This was more like mana being forced out, a spell trying to cast itself without any of his input or say-so. How…how were they even doing this? It just wasn’t possible.

“Sovereign deity of the Otherlands! Your faithful followers pledge their souls to your vessel. We give our bodies and our spirits to you and your avatar, we entrust ourselves to you in all forms as we ascend!”

Zappa strained himself in an attempt to stop whatever his body was trying to do. Nothing changed. It was more like the mana was bleeding out of him, unable to stop flowing unless something dammed the wound it came from. What were they trying to do? What did they think he could do?

Whether it was the concoction they’d fed him, the height they’d hung him from, the fact that he’d been upside-down for who knew how long, or some unholy mix of the three, the room started to sway. He unconsciously shifted his weight to try and make the dizzy movement even out, but that only made it worse. The longer this went on, the less he seemed to understand. Zappa tried to keep his wits about, but something was out of sorts. His mind felt sluggish. The flow of mana wasn’t helping. It only tired him out further and faster. It reminded him of his days in university, sleep-deprived and dragging by, but that couldn’t even compare to this. It was hard to keep his thoughts on anything. They were slow, and yet, he couldn’t keep a grasp on them. He began to weep and wail in frustration, confusion, exhaustion, all the emotions he couldn’t process.

“Steady, my brothers and sisters.” The man joined hands with the other figure on the stage. “All as we’ve practiced. Share your mana with the church. Share it with the vessel. His divine form will purify and craft it into the gateway, just as the scriptures proclaimed!”

The strangers began to chant. The fog in his head made it too difficult to discern if they were speaking a language he understood or not. It was too much of an ordeal to focus on one thing at a time, and right now, the most pressing one was the continuous flow of energy that had started to make him ache. All he could describe it as was someone wringing all the vitality it could from his body. By the time it was over, he expected to be nothing left but a wrinkled, withered husk of what had once been a man.

Just when he was sure there was no more left of him to take, the ground began to creak. The stone shuddered and split right in two. Beams of radiance shone through the split, lighting up the chapel and causing the audience to wince from the sudden change.

“The door…”

“The gateway! It exists! The gateway has been opened!”

The light was brighter than anything he could possibly compare it against. It burned his closed eyes despite not radiating any warmth against his skin. If anything, it felt cold. It was a coldness he was familiar with. One his mind automatically associated with grasping, spectral hands, dark formations with glowing red eyes and gnashing teeth, and long, chitinous bodies.

Oh. It all made sense now. The ghosts.

They wanted the ghosts.

He had never summoned anything on purpose before. He had never wanted to. There was no experience to fall back on to stop himself, or to even ease the strenuous toll it was taking on him. All he could do was hang uselessly and watch as it happened. The ropes strained under the weight of him at such a height for so long. Several started to undo themselves and fray.

He wondered what would happen if he fell into the hole.

A commotion resounded on what remained of the stage. Footsteps and fabric rustled to hushed, eager voices.

“You. You. All of you. Elder Leona, this way. Come, come! Let us bask in the radiance together!”

Zappa tried to watch. The light hurt too much to stare. The shadowed figures threw themselves into the glowing abyss, vanishing into the light. One by one, they went without hesitation, declaring their delight as they went.

At the pit’s edge, one of them halted, looking up at him. The deep-voiced man’s face was blurred by the fog, but Zappa could tell he was smiling at him.

“Thank you, blessed vessel, thank you- !”

The man’s words cut off to the sound of a great crash. With it, the light swallowed itself and disappeared into nothing. Air itself rippled from the force, throwing loose objects around the room and sending Zappa’s half-limp body swinging back and forth, to the hanging mechanism’s protesting wooden groans

The taut strings still holding him strained and finally snapped entirely. He hoped that when he hit the ground, it would finally knock him out and give him some kind of reprieve from all this insanity.

Instead, something caught him. Several sets of arms buckled to give him a gentle landing. Something in that strange drink had made his nerves sensitive, so the feeling of others’ touch hurt as much as it was a comfort. If not for the fact that his throat was already hoarse beyond belief, he would have screamed.

“Have the others crossed the threshold?” One of them murmured. He couldn’t tell if they were talking to him or not.

“Elder Miko says she no longer senses their presence upon this plane. They must have made it.”

“Blessed be! The doorway has held!”

“But where has it gone now?”

“Perhaps we were not ready to pass over as they were? Perhaps the gateway was only meant to allow passage to so many at once? They are beyond where we may speak to them now. Let us concern ourselves with more pressing matters. The deity of the Otherlands still leaves us in possession of his vessel.”

“He did not accompany them? The grand radiance did not take his own prophet while he took his other children?”

“He must wish of us to do something.” One of them insisted. “This must be a sacred duty bestowed upon us, until we are ready for passage!”

The few hands touching him became many, and voices overlapped one another until the noise hurt. Zappa tried to curl into himself, protect his vulnerable body the only way he could think, but it didn’t want to move. Exhaustion didn’t begin to cover it. If not for the fact that he had no wounds to speak of, he would have assumed he was dying.

“Prophet, prophet,” someone babbled, “let us be blessed, allow us a mere touch of your holy flesh.”

He still didn’t understand so much of this. He didn’t know what he had done. Had he done something to them? For them? What had he done in the very beginning to make these people so obsessed?

Another man’s voice bubbled up from the commotion. “Blessed flesh. Please, I beg you to purify me from within- !”

Something strong and sharp clamped down on the meat of one leg. Once more, he tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse crackle.

Though he couldn’t see any of it through his blurring vision, a ripple of alarm stirred the remaining congregation.

“Heretic!”

“Defiler!”

“Cease this,” another hissed, gently caressing his face. “Don’t fall to sacrilege! Assaulting a speaker alone is grounds for excommunication, dare you strike a pure manifestation of our own deity?”

Careful hands bearing something soft felt along his leg, wrapping it up snugly until the pain became dull throb. A velvet voice cooed reassurances and patted the spot.

The woman’s voice scoffed as she continued to stroke his head. “Allowing you to live despite your transgression. Our god is truly forgiving.”

“High spirit, please. Have clemency on my pitiful soul. I am weak.” The man begged. He yelped, and the stone floor echoed with the sound of a body striking it.

“Pray for his loving mercy. But know that your soul will be judged upon your passage to the Otherlands.”

“Clemency, clemency. I am weak. I-I will give myself to worship until my sins are cleansed from this pitiful, filthy prison.”

“Pay him no mind, great vessel. Not all of your worshippers are as disciplined as they should be.”

Too many muddled bits of thought. None of them connected to anything else. Trying to force them to connect made him dizzy. This…this didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure of a lot right now, but he wasn’t sure he liked these people. They’d done…something to him. Something bad.

“Even if we were not blessed with passage like our fellow pilgrims, it is an incomparable honor to care for the vessel of our god.”

What god? Him? He wasn’t a god, was he? Or a vessel, whatever she had said. They seemed to assume he was, but that couldn’t be right at all.

Another whispered into his ear. “Here, prophet. The finest we have. You need to heal.”

Something was pressed against his mouth. He’d had far too much of people forcing him to drink things today, and probably forever, but it was hard to put up a fight when it was a struggle just staying conscious. It easily slipped past his open lips and flooded his tongue with salty, lukewarm liquid. A gloved hand pressed along the curve of his throat until it triggered him into swallowing it.

And it…it was nice. He hated to say that. He needed to be far, far away from these people, but for now, he had a bandage around his leg and a mouthful of soup. Another hand brushed against his cheek, and he leaned into the touch.

“There. Just rest. The church will handle everything that needs to be addressed. Worry only about yourself, radiance.”

Radiance....yes, he was radiant. He had brought the light. He could bring it back again. Not now, but once he’d gathered up enough mana. The walls between worlds were thick but soft, able to be cut through with the right weapon and the right amount of force.

Perhaps they had been correct. Truly, only some sort of deity could split reality itself apart.

“Until we may ascend as they have, we will devote ourselves to worship. To your worship. Glory to the church! Glory to his radiance!”

“Glory to his radiance!” The others called.

Maybe the strange circumstances had finally driven him insane, because part of him quite liked the idea. How wondrous. Once he’d regained his strength, he would have to share his radiance with the world. They would all bear witness to what a god was capable of.

The gentle hands lowered him onto something soft. Warmth draped across his back, and hands continued to stroke his hair. Good disciples. They had done well.

Chapter Text

Very few things properly surprised Happy Chaos anymore. Waking up in a random metal room didn’t quite qualify as surprising, but he could appreciate it at least being more interesting than normal.

He calmly sat up and stretched out, taking in the pitifully mundane sights. Probably some kind of crusades-era bomb shelter. The sort rich people made and stuffed full of supplies to last enough years for the peasantry to all die horribly in the war-torn outside. Not much left in this one, though, just a few empty shelves and abandoned computer parts. A good place to kidnap someone and dump their body, if you even knew a place like this existed. Whoever was responsible was either a lucky idiot, or really knew what they were doing.

As he looked down at himself, the latter was seeming more likely. Skillful yet still visible lines bisected the trails of cross marks along his limbs. Clearly some kind of sharp, clean implement, some sort of knife or scalpel. He must have been out for a while if they had enough time to be so thorough. Happy would give them a pat on the back before he turned their skin inside-out. He wondered what the aspiring surgeon had gotten up to while poking around inside him. Chaos was certainly a prime specimen, but who knew what it was in particular that had caught their eye?

He already would have teleported away from any kind of danger, but he found the current circumstances amusing. Hanging around and seeing what happened intrigued him into staying. Why pass up such an opportunity for amusement? Who knew when such an eventful kidnapping would happen to him again?

“You’re awake. Good.”

Ah, and there was mister philosopher-napper, finally making himself known. And with such a familiar voice! Just a hint disappointing to not have it be some strange unknown he barely knew, but, what the hell, even he could get a little nostalgic sometimes!

His dear old disciple. Or, at least, a bootleg. The fact that he was significantly more raggedy than that anal-retentive crybaby was the main giveaway. Asuka was not a man who cared hugely about looks, but he still always kept himself clean and somewhat presentable- bizarre choice of clothes notwithstanding. This one, whoever they were, had a mane of wild, shaggy hair, and his garments were badly frayed and weathered. One of his vat-grown knockoffs, no doubt.

“And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Simulation model #Kreuz E195GRD,” he responded, clipped and crisp. “For brevity’s sake, you may refer to me simply as ‘E1.’”

“Gooootcha. It’s a reeeeeal pleasure.” Chaos gave him an exaggerated nod.

“...I assume you’re mocking me?”

“Ah, yep. At least you’re quick.” Happy smirked at him. “Lemme guess, Asuka put you up to this? Couldn’t bear to come back and talk to me in person, so he sent one of his drones?” The poor sod had always been such a coward, yet so sentimental. This sounded par for the course.

However, the doppelganger shook his head. “Incorrect. I came of my own volition.”

Hmm. Now didn’t that spice things up a bit? Intentionally or not, this guy was doing a good job of keeping his attention. For now, at least. Hopefully Asuka wouldn’t be too heartbroken if he ended up destroying his toy. Currently, the figure was out of reach, standing behind an old computer console that wasn’t doing much of anything aside from physically separating them. It wasn’t much of a defense if he did get up and lunge, but something told him that the clone knew that perfectly well. It wouldn’t be like Asuka to make his own knockoff so stupid.

Happy put a hand to his cheek. “Sooo, spill the beans here, E1. What brings you all the way down here, just to see lil’ old me?”

The other man sighed. “Despite your displays to the contrary, some still believe you are capable of changing your current state. If my creator is not willing to take the initiative, then I suppose someone else has to. Unfortunately, it appears he is still quite fond of you, and I would not create such despair for him by killing you, even though it would be a net positive for existence.”

“Yeah, no, no need to sugarcoat it,” the man sent him a pointed, amused sneer. “Say how you really feel about me, eh?”

The clone’s expression didn’t change, but he blinked slowly. “Alright, if you insist.”

With the flick of one wrist, a set of glowing runes appeared in the air. They reformed and reshaped into various diagrams and charts, but Chaos couldn’t quite make out the data written down from so far away.

“I do not think you are beyond help, Chaos. It would be an unnecessarily arduous process as opposed to simply being rid of you, but I believe there are still ways that your current state can be remedied. While typically I would not choose to bother, I recognize that doing this would make my creator happy.”

“Uh-huh. Lemme guess, that’s what all this is for?” Chaos gestured to one of the long, thin scars that ran down his forearm.

“That is correct, yes. I’ve already taken the liberty of making a few modifications while you were unconscious. Only a few are irreversible, but I have no intention of removing any of them, not for a good while.”

“Guess that explains the scars. Bummer. Was hoping you just did that for fun.”

This guy was just as naive as the real Asuka. As soon as Happy got sufficiently bored with the scenario he was currently in, he’d have no compulsion in ripping out whatever junk had been shoved under his skin with his own two hands. It wouldn’t impede him in the slightest. He hadn’t been the squeamish type in a long time.

“So these…’modifications.’ You think that’s enough to make me do whatever you want?”

Chaos watched him shake his head. “Certainly not. Unlike my creator, I do not assume I can take the power of a god and use it without consequence. Instead, I’ve taken god and put reins upon his back.”

“Feh.” The man nearly laughed. “You sure as hell still sound like him, either way. You still think you can control me, how you intend to do it doesn’t matter.”

The clone shook his head once again, more adamantly. “I do not believe I can control you, Chaos. However,”

He stepped out from behind the console, fingers steepling.

“I believe I can teach you.”

“‘Teach me?’ Seriously?”

E1 nodded in silence. Happy felt a grin threaten to tear his face in half. “Ahh, I get it, you’re into that symbolic shit. Reversing the roles, student becoming the teacher.”

“You may choose to view it in such a way, if you are so inclined.”

“So, what, you’re gonna bend me over a desk and spank me until I beha-a-a-a- !”

An involuntary seizing sent the man into a heap on the floor, limbs locked as his nerves misfired. His brain went blank from having all of its usual impulses interfered with, and his vision flashed. It made for an unexpectedly fun surprise, he hadn’t experimented much with electricity yet to see what it could do to his brain.

By the time he came to again, he could hear a faint, disappointed tsk-ing.

“No. Bad.”

Happy coughed, flexing one wrist to see if the muscle spasms had sprained it. “C’mooooon, you’ve already pretty much stitched a mental chastity cage into my spine or whatever, right? How is this not kinky?”

He could see how the horizontal stress lines wrinkled the other man’s forehead, even if he visibly suppressed his irritation in other ways. “You are disgusting.”

“Hey, this whole thing was your idea, not mine. I’m just going along with it.”

E1 made a noise of indignation. “Though I was hoping we would be able to get some progress along without degrading ourselves in such a manner, but…maybe you make a good point.”

“Oh, I do every once in a while. Last time, I successfully debated the worthwhile uses of magic during the dawn of revival, and the time before that, I talked my college roommate into buying my toaster-blender.”

Something about that made the clone willing to take a step closer. Not quite in arm’s grasp, but certainly getting there. His defenses weren’t lowered, but he was no longer on high alert. That made it much easier to get some fun out of this.

E1 made a noise of contemplation. “Positive neurochemical encouragement may be useful in teaching you to feel better about behaving better.”

“Ah, so now you’re taking a page from Pavlov’s book. Gonna try and make me your good dog?”

“If that’s what it takes. Sometimes the simple approach is the best one.” He could see dismay in the clone’s face as he realized what he’d gotten himself into. But he steeled his resolve and forced his expression back into aloof neutrality once more. “Certainly. If you are willing to comply, I will allow you physical and psychological pleasure. However, as you have seen, if you choose to be troublesome and misbehave, I will just as easily shock you.”

Ohhh, now wasn’t this interesting? It was hard to imagine the real Asuka degrading himself like this. He absolutely couldn’t miss out now. If anything, it would be a riot to see the clone mess around and fail. If he was lucky, he might even get a good fuck out of it.

E1 moved even closer, tentatively extending a palm out towards the blue man on the floor. “Stay seated. I will tell you to move as needed.”

“Or what?” Chaos quipped, taunting.

Another flood of shocks barraged his brain, to no surprise. He propped himself up on his elbows and giggled. “Mmm, tingly! Do it again, do it again!”

The clone rolled his eyes. “I never imagined an alleged ‘pure’ being to be so…”

“Handsome? Erudite? Irresistible?”

“...Pathetic.” He said. “Do you possess some inbuilt instinct to always be irritating?”

“All I care about is drama. If I can’t find it, I make it. Nothin’ more to it!”

Chaos couldn’t manage so much as a smirk before he was electrocuted once more. He watched E1 pace past, tapping his fingertips together.

“I suppose this is a good opportunity to try and teach obedience and patience…all traits a good dog should possess.”

“Okay. Stop messing around with me, Asuka Jr.” Replied Chaos. “This is totally kinky for you, isn’t it? I bet all of this is just some fetish roleplay. Did’ja get bored with whatever Asuka wanted you to actually do, and decided I could make it a lot more fun?”

“I…am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Have you ever fucked?” Chaos asked, unflinchingly crude. “C’mooon, you can tell me, we’re all friends here!”

“We are not friends.”

“Acquaintances?” He smirked.

“Do you share your sexual history with everyone you even slightly interact with?” E1 gave him another odd look. “No, don’t answer that. If it will get you to drop the issue, I have reasonable knowledge when it comes to sexual intimacy. Not overly-thorough, but enough.”

“You don’t gotta try and impress me. Doubt you could, even if you tried. Lemme guess, Asuka showed you the basics?”

“All Doppel programs come with a baseline of knowledge, for the sake of convenience and simplicity. We are meant to be useful and assisting, not children to be raised.” He paused. “Sit still. I’m going to attempt to access your Backyard data and see if there’s any modifications I can do by hand. It should expedite the process significantly.”

“Ohhh, your dirty talk needs work. But I can be flexible. Don’t assume you’ve had too much practice, anyway?”

The clone didn’t reply. Well, that wasn’t much fun! Would Asuka be this stoic? What was the point of all of this if he didn’t get a reaction? That was the whole point!

He spotted a hand drifting too close to him. Happy moved to bite his fingers. Another sharp jolt of electricity made his jaw clench early.

“Bad dog. I said to sit.”

“Yes, master.”

The man tried to put a hint of effort into stillness, at least until that got too boring. He patted his hands in his lap. Physical pleasure, when was he gonna get to that part? Meh, if he got bored waiting, he could always just do that part himself. He didn’t mind having E1 there. If anything, having an audience made it more enjoyable

He would concede surprise when he felt a hand brushing against the top of his head. Fingers parted the hair at the base of his short horns and carefully prodded the skin.

“Are these sensitive? I can admit to being curious. My master doesn’t know. I assume it’s some form of bony growth, but perhaps it’s more like antler velvet?”

They weren’t particularly nerve-laden, but in the current circumstances, he all but purred as they were touched, if only to try and get a reaction.

It was a subdued one, but he caught E1 making a little noise of intrigue. “Fascinating.”

“Aww, I try.”

Chaos heard him huff. “It seems you can sit still if properly coaxed. Good to know. I never thought I would say this, but I’ll reward you for your compliance.”

The hand continued playing with his horns. As he sat in silence, a calm, hazy feeling started oozing into the back of his mind. It took Chaos a second to realize something was out of the ordinary.

“You’re drugging me?”

“I told you. If you behave, I will give you psychological pleasure as well. Several of the apparatuses I inserted into your brain allow me control of the chemical releases of your endocrine system. The right mix allows me to reward you with differing sensations, namely tranquil stupors.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to hypnotize me.”

“Not incorrect.”

“Ooh, so you are a kinky little troublemaker after all. Knew you had it in ya.”

That earned him another little zip, not enough for a full-body seize, but enough to make it clear he was pushing it. He had enough sense to fall silent again.

Once the mage was finished toying with his horns, his hand moved elsewhere. He didn’t seem to realize what he was doing, as when Chaos let out a pleased little whine, the hand on his head flinched. E1 looked at him with a scowl.

“What? You were petting me. Isn’t a good dog supposed to like that?”

His grin widened when he didn’t respond. E1 went back to petting his head, briefly pausing to scratch the skin beneath his hair.

“If it helps you stay still.”

Chaos tried to remember the last time someone had pet him. It wasn’t exactly normal behavior unless you were a child, an animal, or liked it in the bedroom. A shame. It felt nice, even if it tended to come with a degree of condescension wrapped up in it. Some people were probably into that part just as much. He didn’t consider himself submissive, but not really dominant, either- though it was fun to watch people try and fail to control him. He just went along with what was most entertaining in the moment.

It didn’t hurt that the clone had really nice hands.

“Ah, I see,” he murmured to himself, clicking away at the hovering display. “Maybe if I…?”

Chaos didn’t feel any different, but maybe the continuing endorphin flow masked it. Either way, E1 nodded confidently.

“Got some good news, master?”

His smile wrinkled. “Don’t talk like that. But yes, I’ve found at least one area I can work on debugging. It was much easier to work without you intentionally distracting me.”

“So…?” Chaos trailed off, gesturing.

“...Alright, I suppose it’s earned. You have done well so far. I give you permission to disrobe.”

There wasn’t much robe to dis, so Chaos shed his pants along the floor in a matter of seconds. He expected some kind of reaction from E1 at seeing him properly naked, but he wasn’t granted the satisfaction. He supposed the happy brain juice would be enough of a consolation. It still flowed through at a steady, metered pace, enough to make him feel dizzy and floaty but just not enough at the same time, to make him still crave more.

“I found a file that may be of some use. Sit still and don’t resist, and I’ll reward you if you do.”

“Whatever you say, teach.”

The cozy lull of endorphins made it a little easier to keep from squirming, and he could barely feel the faint scratch of someone poking away at his data. A hand placed itself upon his head and began to scritch the space behind his horns. Chaos found himself leaning into it, expending just enough effort to try and avoid poking E1 with the sharp points. This must have been what a housecat felt like, dozing in a sunbeam and getting its head scratched all day. Maybe it hadn’t been too crazy for E1 to think he’d be pliable with enough of this. It was enough to make him start nodding off.

As soon as he realized it, Chaos forced himself awake. It didn’t matter if the brain haze felt nice, it would be such a shame to miss the main event. Surely he couldn’t be left waiting forever, right?

The clone looked down at him again. Happy didn’t notice how his own eyes brightened as soon as he was given the attention. Likewise, neither of them acknowledged that it was the first time so far that they both looked at one another with a genuine smile, even if it was small.

“Good. Very good. Your compliance has earned you another reward. Be sure to stay very still.”

E1 moved even closer, kneeling down across from him. With a glove-covered hand, he reached out and ghosted along the length of his flaccid cock.

Chaos immediately shivered, holding back a noise as he was touched properly, one smooth motion dragging along the curve of it. His cock quickly started to harden as it was handled, pressing against the clone’s palm. The noise in his throat escaped. Loathe to admit it, the sensation was actually kinda nice. Then again, that was the point, wasn’t it? Get him addicted to being high and jerking off until he becomes a productive member of society again? Something like that. Whatever. It was hard to think with a bunch of hypnotic brain-drugs coursing through and getting a handjob at the same time. Logical thought was never much a fair opponent for physical desire, anyway. He could just enjoy the ride.

As soon as he could feel the heat building in his gut, though, he heard the other man speak up again. “Hold on, I found something I need to decrypt. Unfortunately this is going to require both hands. Wait for a moment.”

Without a spare second, he stood back up and went back to his sigils. Happy’s mouth fell open at the sudden sensation of his body only being touched by the room’s cool air and metal floor. One of his hands immediately moved to continue the job that had gone unfinished.

Another little zap. “Don’t touch yourself. Wait until I’m done. You can do that, can’t you?”

Oh, now that was just low. Chaos shot him a scowl, but moved his hands back away. Even if there were still some endorphins running around, it wasn’t enough to subdue his sense of annoyance. He sat on his knees and drummed his fingers against one leg.

After what felt like several minutes of nothing happening, Chaos made his presence known again. He doubted that he’d been forgotten about, but if this guy was anything like the real Asuka, he could get sucked into his work and not realize how much time had passed.

“Can’t you give me something?” He not-so-subtly insisted.

E1 sighed. “Yes, yes, if it makes you sit. I’m working as fast as I can.”

One hand put itself on his body again…but only to go back to petting. Happy gave an indignant grumble, but tried to take some enjoyment out of what he was given, if meager. E1 was polite enough to start the endorphin flow again to reward him for waiting. But it didn’t hit as hard as last time.

He sat, obedient, as a hand stroked his jaw. The other was probably preoccupied looking at some subfile or another, but Happy was really wishing it was fondling him again. The longer it went ignored, the more insistent the faint pulses in his guts felt. His half-hard cock twitched with need.

His hands scraped against the floor and trembled as he tried his damndest to keep them still. This had been on purpose, hadn’t it? Even if he was naive, E1 had to know this was dragging things out. It was hard to be patient when he was being edged. What else was he supposed to think about? What was supposed to distract him?

“You keep squirming. Did I not tell you to wait? I’m doing the best I’m capable of.”

“I don’t want you to pat me like a dog,” he grunted, “I want you to finish the job you started!”

“Yes. I know. In a minute. Wait.”

‘Be patient’ this, ‘be patient’ that. He didn’t have to sit around and pretend that the clone had any power over him. None of it was real. The happy daze was a nice touch, but he was sure that he could work his way around it if he wanted it again that badly. All he was really here for was to pretend he could be fixed and get off in the process. If he didn’t get the part of that he’d really shown up for, Chaos wasn’t going to sit around and play dollhouse for one of the fake knockoffs of the guy he’d tutored a hundred years ago. He didn’t care enough for that.

He forced the deepest breath he could manage, when all he wanted to do was stick his tongue out and wantonly moan. Surely E1 would come back to it if he just waited a little longer. Chaos just had to be patient. He genuinely wanted him to improve, didn’t he? This was all to make his creator happy. It was silly to think he’d fudge it on purpose, even if it was still driving him mad with unmet need.

Though the endorphins kept flowing, Chaos remained fully lucid. The lulling warmth was becoming less and less satisfying, and the physical urges were becoming too difficult to ignore.

“Damn it, just let me do the job myself!”

E1 made a noise of protest, but he couldn’t stop Chaos before he roughly grabbed onto his own naked dick and started stroking it. Ohhh, and it was so much better to finally get some damn progress!

“Wh- Chaos, what is the meaning of this?!”

The demand went ignored. Pre slicked his palms and made the glide even more satisfying, but he was still moving fast enough that his skin was starting to burn against itself. It didn’t spurn him into slowing. It felt too good to slow down. He couldn’t make himself wait a second longer.

“No! Bad! Chaos, I told you to- !”

“Shut it. So tell me, I really gotta know. How perfect of a clone are you? Was Asuka nice enough to put in all the right equipment?”

Just that thought sent him into a fascinating, increasingly-vulgar spiral. Were they perfect clones of Asuka himself, all the way down to the exact size and cut? Was Asuka enough of a pathetic, insignificant man that he altered them all so he was the largest, offering himself a vague sense of superiority over his own duplicates? Or was he so sheepish and submissive that he’d done the opposite to ensure he’d always be physically inferior? Did any of them even carry any useful genetic information, or had he castrated and neutered every last one to avoid any of them accidentally reproducing? Or even something more humiliating- alone, stranded in space with no living beings aside from his own doppelgangers to keep him company, was it possible he’d taken one and given them a suitable gash to satisfy his pent-up frustrations?

Had he given them anything at all? Had he decided the whole matter was too convoluted altogether and left them null and featureless outside of the most necessary functions?

Really, the answer didn’t matter much, anyway. Happy Chaos was fully prepared to rip off those bulky vestments, find the answer for himself, and fuck it.

He felt the clone’s hands fall away from him, and the threat of electrocution was the only reason he didn’t forcibly grab one of his hands and use it to continue pleasuring himself. Any thoughts of obedience or good behavior were falling to the wayside now that he was more focused on getting off. He licked his other hand and used it to feel himself up elsewhere, leaving shiny trails along his chest and belly. It felt good, but couldn’t quite compare to having another body to tangle with.

“Get down here.” Chaos broke out into frantic giggles, his brain a muddled stew of feel-good chemicals and haywire electrical signals making something hypnotic and maddening and oh-so-delicious. “Get down here!!”

E1 took a hesitant step away. ”Sit, Chaos. Don’t make me ask you again.”

It wasn’t enough to shut him up. “Ahehehehee! I know you’d be so good, I just fucking know it! Fresh outta the vat, nobody’s even gotten the chance to break it in! Get down here and let me show you what you’re missing!”

He had to be a virgin, didn’t he? Oh, Chaos got far too much mileage out of that thought. He wanted to see it in person. No matter what was down there, he was gonna punch it open until it was red and loose and sticky. He wondered how long it would take before he had the bastard screaming his name.

“I’ll break you- fuck, I’ll rip that damn jacket off and split you in half! I’ll fuck that stupid look right off your face!”

“I told you to sit.” E1 said, but there was no action taken to emphasize the force he spoke with. No shocks, didn’t even cut off the reward chemicals. He was too afraid to step in and do anything aside from talk and hope that was enough. A coward, of course he was a coward. Just like his daddy.

He panted like the filthy dog he was, tongue lolling out of his mouth and drooling down his chin. No moment was spared to wipe it away. He didn’t care how disgusting he had to look. It was exactly what he wanted, and he wanted the clone to watch him do it.

“You dirty- fuck- you dirty little fucking bookworm- ! I bet this is what Asuka always wanted- bending me over a table and fucking me stupid- !”

Chaos braced himself, gritting his teeth as he approached his climax. But, to his shock, the very moment he tried to jerk himself to completion, a numbness spread across his palms.

“Bad dog.”

Before he could try and react, the numbness shot down his limbs. It brought with it a sudden sense of weakness, and his locked-stiff joints relaxed until he couldn’t even exert enough control to sit up. As he collapsed onto the ground, he saw the clone standing over him, arms folded with the faintest of smirks on his lips.

Chaos tried to move. It was a losing battle. He could turn his head, but everything else was flopped uselessly against the floor. Even when he focused, he couldn’t manage so much as a twitch.

He looked up at E1 in shock. “What did you- ?!”

“Nerve blockers.” He replied.

“Whu- what-”

But it was a stupid thing to ask, especially for him. Blocking off the signals to move his limbs. Disconnecting the ability to take in tactile information. And, most pressingly at the moment, keeping him from getting any more stimuli so he could finally get off.

“I hope this makes my position on the matter very clear, Chaos.”

He was functionally quadraplegic with everything switched off, he wasn’t going to be getting anywhere unless he figured out a way to drag himself along with his teeth. And that wasn’t even getting to where he’d be trying to go, given that he had no idea where the hell he’d been dragged off to.

Even then, all he could find himself caring about right now was the absolute lack of any kind of pleasure. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched his hard cock soften and slump against his equally-limp and lifeless thigh. Happy tried to push himself with the most disgusting, lascivious fantasies his foul mind could conjure- but none of it mattered. He felt nothing. Not pleasure, not pain, not even the vaguest sense of discomfort. Nothing at all.

E1 had turned his back to him. Without a word, he began to leave.

“You- bastard, goddamn it, you get your ass back here!”

“No.” The sonuvabitch just kept walking. “You don’t get rewarded for misbehaving. That would simply reinforce the unwanted behavior. If you would like a proper reward, then consider earning it next time.”

It had been a long time since Chaos had experienced desperation. It befuddled him. “Asuka made you, he wouldn’t just-”

“What my creator would or would not do is inconsequential. I am not him.”

Were the circumstances any different, he would have ripped the clone’s head off with his bare hands. Or maybe possessed him into doing the job himself. All of his rampant erotic thoughts were currently being rerouted into devising the most painful revenge he possibly could for denying him. He had been so, so close, just a little touch, just a little grind against the ground- but part of him knew it was pointless. Tormenting him was exactly the point.

And god dammit, it was working.

“I will be back soon, Chaos. For the time being, reflect on your behavior and decide how you will be better next time. I hope you decide to take this as a learning opportunity. Our exchange is simple. I only ask of you to do what I tell you and behave. Goodbye.”

“Fuck- okay, okay! Just don’t leave! I’ll do what you want! I- !”

The sense of horror was strong enough to, if only momentarily, disrupt the lack of sensation everywhere else. For just a second, the thought had been real.

”I promise I’ll be good.”

Chapter Text

Sin had finally gone to fucking bed. It took him forever to finally lie down, but once he did, he was out like a light and wouldn’t wake up unless you kicked him in the shins.

The kid had been jittery today, more than usual, and maybe it was fair. Both of them had been pretty busy for the past couple of weeks. It seemed like everyone had crawled out of the woodwork all at once to bother him, and that would have been annoying enough if they weren’t trying to work their way into the fort. A small part of him was stunned that they had been able to get in after all, what with all the extra trouble. The universe never wanted to make things simple for him.

Sol had intentionally waited for his charge to fall asleep. Once he was very sure he wouldn’t be interrupted, he took his things and moved over to the next room in their current shack. Ky had offered them a bed in Illyria, he always did, but after today, he absolutely did not want to interact with any more people than was completely necessary. He was burnt out in more ways than one.

He had contemplated whether or not to do what he was currently doing. If he really was so tired after all, he could always wait until tomorrow. It probably wasn’t going anywhere. But Sin was asleep and the opportunity presented itself. No point in letting that go to waste.

Neither of them had any protective containers to stash important things in, so for the time being, he’d wrapped it up in one of the Firewheel’s cleaning rags and tucked it away into the deepest corner of his shoulderbag. Sol had dumped it off on the bed once they’d made the trek back. He returned to it now, carefully pawing aside screwdrivers and half-stale protein bars until he found what he was looking for. Sol pulled out his prize, grinning as he unwrapped it.

Senga. It had been decades since he’d seen the thing, but once it was back in his hands, it didn’t feel like a day. The curved glass bell was still perfect and pristine. Of course it was. It would take a hell of a lot of force to damage part of the Outrage. Those Conclave freaks might’ve been capable of some impressive shit, but not that impressive.

“Long time no see,” he remarked, “lookin’ good.”

Its internal mechanisms whirred underneath the casing. Sol wondered what it was trying to emulate. The Outrage pieces were little more than amplifiers. If so needed, they would work as a simple sphere. He’d long forgotten what he’d shapeshifted Senga to look like, if that had even been his doing in the first place. The damn things seemed like they had a will of their own sometimes. It had taken several tries, mostly out of spite by the end, to make Zessen manifest as anything other than a wooden carving of a mackerel.

The nearby Fireseal was humming. All magic sang in its own language. Regular users gradually learned to pick up on frequencies, and he was no different. Fireseal’s song had similar bars to general fire, but trilled off in its own directions. It acted as its own conductor and chorus, the same genre as other fire magic, but its own personal arrangement. Sol knew it well. The melody was comforting in its sense of familiarity. On more than one occasion, he’d pressed his metal-covered forehead to the sword’s pommel and just…listened. Like a conversation with an old friend. If anyone had walked in while he did it, Sol would deny it until the day he died. But he couldn’t deny it to himself how nice it had felt in the moment. He didn’t often feel peaceful. He took what he could get nowadays.

On lonelier days, he liked to pretend Fireseal had a spirit of its own. Like it could offer him comfort in some weird, wordless way. It had been by his side for a very long time. Most of the people in his life had stuck around for a lot less. His sword was the friend that guarded him in battle, scorched enemies, and sang to him in their moments between conflict.

Sol wondered if Fireseal could sense that another piece of the outrage was close by. They had come from the same source, it seemed natural they still recognized another broken-off fragment of what it had once been.

Actually…when he thought about it, what would happen if he tried putting them together again? Not the whole Outrage, that was far too much power to control, but just the two parts he had with him?

Senga was one of the pieces he’d had fewer experiences handling after he broke the Outrage into pieces. It had just never intrigued him. Light magic was an odd niche in the world of elemental casting. It had its practical uses, absolutely, but there wasn’t much more to it than that. Lightning and fire offered more variety when it came to most aspects. At high enough levels, it produced a slight amount of heat, but not anything that wasn’t easily outclassed by other elements. By and large, it only offered what its name suggested: light. Something to illuminate a room without also risking setting it on fire or blowing it up.

Sol had no need for something like that. He needed firepower, not candles. Rumors floated around of how people could give it more credence in combat by using it creatively, but…well, so what? Why waste that much effort on something that was near-useless in a fight when you could just set something on fire and be done with it?

Combining the two, though- now that offered something interesting. It wasn’t as though most people would ever happen to have two sacred treasures fall into their lap. Being able to tinker with them was a massive rarity, one he was intrigued to experience. Even after so long, he was still a scientist at heart.

All eight of the pieces fit together to make the Outrage, but what would happen if it was only a few? What effects, if any, would they have on each other?

The spark of curiosity carried him over to the room’s table. He and Sin had been using it mainly for meals, but it was big enough to hold a piece of drafting paper. Sol found a sturdy pen and started to take notes. It drew out a faint and familiar nostalgia, the nostalgia for scientific discovery. Despite the unpleasant memories inexorably associated with it, it still sparked a deep-seated passion that had yet to die.

Vague doodles began to take shape as he worked. There was no need for overcomplication, but it would be wise to have something capable of withstanding that much magical energy flow, especially in the heat of a fight. Maybe some kind of casing? It could keep the two components held together and keep his hands at least somewhat guarded from any potential blowback. Sure, he could shrug off a few broken bones or a rough burn, but if it was avoidable, he’d rather not deal with the headache of having to heal later. Maybe it’d be a little bulky, but that sounded like the best approach to take.

The corner of his vision started to flash. When he looked over his shoulder, Sol noticed that Senga had lit itself up. For a temporary moment. The internal filament quickly illuminated, then snuffed out, before brightening once again.

Strange. Was Fireseal having some kind of an influence on it?

“Easy, pal,” something about that made him chuckle to himself. “I’ll be back in a minute. Just play with your brother, okay? Sure you got a lotta catching up to do.”

Sol went back to his papers. He scribbled out a new beta design. With the combined power the two parts offered, making it into a full-on sword almost felt redundant. It didn’t need a blade. There was enough force to blow through most things. If it could handle the firepower, it could be as dull as…hold on, where was he going with that thought? Something about…blades? No, he’d just been thinking about it, where had that thought gone to?

Abruptly, he paused. Sol knew what tired felt like, but this wasn’t it. Something was actively impeding his thoughts.

He realized that something abnormal was tugging on the back of his mind. As soon as the thought landed, Sol immediately started to press back against it. The mere thought of having someone prod around, whether with his body or mind, was enough to stir feelings of deep revulsion within him. Revulsion was an emotion that easily turned into anger, and he was much more familiar with using anger as a weapon to protect himself with.

“Who’s there?!” He snapped at the empty room.

Unsurprisingly, nothing answered. Sol gripped the pen in his hand as though to stab someone with it. His eyes darted around the room.

“You think this is funny?!”

It must have, because he found himself yawning. Or maybe that actually was tiredness. He turned around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing stood out. The room was as basic as it could possibly be. Cheap inns didn’t get you nice paintings and fancy bedspreads. The only real decor the room had came from what he’d brought in and left lying around. His bag, his portable record, a spare set of clothes, Senga-

His eyes inexplicably lingered on Senga. He’d only meant to pass over it, like he had with his other things, but something got him stuck. Had it been the blinking? It had been tuned out of his attention after enough time, but the bulb had still been turning on and off the whole time he’d been working. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to it, no consistency, but…it sure felt nice to watch, anyway…

Sol shook his head, frantically shooing the thought off until he could think straight again. The light. Something about the pattern of the blinking light was burrowing into his brain and messing with his thoughts.

“Stop it.” He warned, like it was of any use.

Apparently it was. The flickering halted, lingering on an illuminated bulb. The insistent mental tug-of-war dissipated.

“Okay…” Sol wondered if he’d fallen asleep by accident. “Why are you screwing around with my head?”

A faint bell-like noise resonated in the back corners of his thoughts. Like Fireseal, Senga had its own song to talk in. Without any words spoken, he could tell for certain it was asking him a question.

’Aren’t you tired?’

“I am, but…” Sol trailed off. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I’m losing it. Goddammit, I’m losing it. The light bulb is talking to me.”

Senga’s melody turned pointed, as close as music could get to a scowl. ’Overworking. Still overworking after so long.’

Lovely. Not only was the light bulb talking to him, it was getting on his nerves, too. “Yeah. So what? Lotta shit to do.”

’You are burdened. Your body is tired and your head is full. Let me comfort you.’

Burdened. Of course he was burdened. He’d been that way for as long as he could remember. It was the force that drove him to do what he did. Sol struggled to conceptualize what he would be like if it suddenly wasn’t there.

“Nobody’s screwing around with my brain. I don’t care what you think you’re doing, you can cut that shit out.”

The chords shifted, turning soft and somber. ‘I’m not forcing you. I’m asking you. I want to help, Frederick.’ The light bulb said, and Sol realized just how weird this evening had gotten so quickly.

He refused to reply, unwilling to entertain what was probably his own imagination. Senga took on a light glow, visible enough to be noticeable but not enough to irritate his eyes. He'd never heard anything about light magic having a neurological effect. It was possible it wasn't entirely magic, just the brain tricking itself with enough flashing lights.

'Fireseal and I spoke,' Senga began again, 'like you told me to. She told me what you have suffered though since we last encountered one another. You are powerful, Frederick. Very powerful. But not invulnerable. Aren't you tired? I can see how it weighs upon you. In thanks for your kindness in giving us life, I wish to ease your pains, even if only for a while. It would be comfortable. If you allow me in willingly, it would be as easy as falling asleep.'

Sol was still half-convinced this was a dream. There were still things that were too damn weird by his metrics. And yet…

“Fuck the whole thing. Fine. If you’re so damn insistent. But-” he raised a finger “-just this one time. If I find out you did anything else, I’m taking you apart and making you into a tacky lamp.”

The pitch jumped and danced about, ringing in delight. Sol wondered if he’d gone insane. He’d immediately regretted his words, but they had left his mouth, and for reasons beyond his understanding, the thought of lying to Senga and going back on his promises put a sour feeling in his stomach.

He watched as the blinking started up again. Sol looked at the flashing bulb, unwilling to make himself look away. If anything, it would be an excuse to forget. He was a weak man sometimes. He’d been built to bear the weight of the world, hadn’t he? So why couldn’t he resist a chance to put it down?

He anticipated it would feel like a sudden, harsh drop. Yet despite his expectations, he didn’t feel incredibly different. Only lighter. Only calmer. Like he’d had a nice cup of something warm and settled down comfortably. It was a mundane tranquility, not a fantastical one. His worries didn’t suddenly vanish. He knew they were there still. None of it had left his consciousness. It was as though Senga had tied balloons to them for now, his woes still existed, but the weight that bore down on him lessened. They bobbed in the corners and above his field of view, tucking themselves out of plain sight.

’They do not matter now. They cannot hurt you now. Sleep.’

He kicked off his boots and sat back on the bed. Senga continued to blink. Sol watched, never taking his eyes off as he found a comfortable spot to lay on his side. He wondered if Sin would walk in and see him like this. The thought didn’t stick with him for long. Gradually, they all diverted from what he’d been focusing on before and settled on watching the light. It left tiny star shapes burnt into his eyelids, blinking in every time he did. Every blink seemed to last longer and longer.

He rested his fingers against the bedspread, curling and uncurling to feel the individual wooly strands brush back and forth against his skin. Something about the sensation was deeply, deeply fascinating, to the point that he couldn’t stop himself from doing it over and over again. Its faint rustling joined along to Senga’s song.

Music, music, the whole world was music. Every little sound fit a rhythm, even the smallest ones. Senga didn’t change any of that, only made him notice it. The whole world sang! So vibrant and whole, all together in harmony. The world was a dark, terrible place, it wasn’t something forgotten to him now, but it was filled with light and beauty all the same. It was something Sol failed to remind himself nowadays. With the miserable drivel of the day-to-day, it was so easy to let one’s vision narrow until it forgot to notice all the beautiful things.

He sighed, feeling muscles slacken that he hadn’t even realized were tight. He wondered if Sin was having a good dream. Had he told the kid he was proud of his help at the fort? He’d need to. Sol was never very good at expressing his fondness for people, even before the war. His way was a brusque, often cold one. Maybe he could try warmth every once in a while.

Sol rolled onto his back. One hand played with the metal rivets on his jacket, listening to how they clinked along to the melody of the world around him. The universe was full of warmth and love and song and icing. The Milky Way was a slowly-turning pastry, still warm from the oven. Fresh and new and full of so many wonderful things, but it first had to be mixed and rolled and made into itself. Sol had never wondered if the universe loved him. It was too bizarre and stupid a question to waste time contemplating. With his worldly worries temporarily alleviated, though, it brought about a sense of clarity. Of course it loved him. For all it put him through, how could anything that put so much time and effort into creating a universe that people lived in not love all of its little creations? It loved him, just as he loved the machines he’d built with his own hands.

The cobweb-riddled rafters melted away into a gentle starlit sky. Comets lazily glided by, glowing in hues of white and green and sparkling tails of pale blue. The moon and the sun alike peered over the edge of the walls. Both watched him in silent curiosity. Something tugged at one of their skirts, prying for their attention, and the two ducked back beyond the border to attend to the matter. The tides rose as they sank into the glimmering depths, spilling ichor, displacing from the mass that now occupied where it had just sat a moment ago.

Clumps of dusk ran down the walls and pooled on the carpet. There wasn’t enough to flood the room, but even if there were, he was sure his bed would float and carry him off like a life-raft. He wondered where the current would take him to. Hopefully someplace quiet and dark that he could take a good, long nap in. Doing anything other than that required more energy than he had.

As he fell asleep, Sol could swear he felt a hand comb through his hair.

Chapter Text

In a bout of curiosity, she’d dug through the storage room to find their old family photo album. It was the one she’d put together herself, mostly kept stowed away since they moved to the castle. Having staff and a media swarm meant that they never had to go out of their way to find new pictures of the family, even if they weren’t always the most flattering. Several castle employees had been perfectly willing to put albums together for them upon being asked. She treasured their efforts, even if they tended to lack the same homemade touch.

Though she hadn’t come just to reminisce. Dizzy put the bulky book in her lap and flipped through the older pictures. It was harder to get photos of the both of them together back then. Nobody was supposed to know she existed. They either had to set up a tripod and time it, or make due with single photos. For now, she made no effort in differentiating. All the focus went into finding as many pictures of her husband as she could.

As she delved deeper and deeper into the pages, her brow creased. She still couldn’t say with certainty what it was about Ky that looked so startlingly different. A few of the smaller ones were obvious enough- the new hair, the thinner face, how he struggled to look anyone in the face unless it was her. That wasn’t it, though. That was easy enough to see. Something deeper, something more, she just had to keep looking until she-

Oh.

It was the eyes. In the old photos, even when he smiled, his eyes were vivid and sharp. Now they only shone dully, like murky pools.

Dizzy doubted anyone even noticed something that deep, though. But they had taken notice of the rest. A man with a will like wildfire, now too sheepish and nervy to even make a public address, flinching at every camera flash. They’d finally stopped making him try months ago. His duties had been gradually, unsubtly whittled down by Leo and Daryl over time. It was rare that he even appeared in public anymore. If he did, the tabloids were quick to crop up. A chronic illness? A stroke? What had happened to that illustrious figurehead that had saved the world several times over, capturing the hearts of millions?

She had bought a few of the tacky magazines back when it had all started. Some part of her wanted to keep up with the gossip. Separate the accurate guesses from the absolute nonsense. Even gotten a few dry chuckles from the most outlandish of them- Dizzy would like to have thought she’d have known if her husband was pregnant and suffering from postpartum depression. It didn’t take long for that to weigh too much on her to bother. It didn’t matter enough. Nobody ever asked where it had come from, or what had caused it to worsen. Those sorts of nuances were beyond the public’s interest. Just something to be gawked at, or to look upon with unease. Even as he rotted, he was a novelty to be used and discarded. That wasn’t anything new.

Dizzy had paid attention to that kind of thing more and more lately. Not just the trashy journalism, but in the murmuring gossip that often made its way all the way up to the castle’s foyers. She liked to think that most of the kings’ staff were smart, well-meaning people, but she still heard plenty of hushed words murmured between scullery maids and butlers, maintenance men and bookkeepers. They all went silent when she rounded the corner, but quickly went back to their chatter as soon as they thought she was out of earshot.

Of course, many a theorist pointed to her as the problem. That she was some sort of black widow slipping toxins into her husband’s tea, hoping to usurp the throne and overthrow Illyria in the name of Gearkind, or some other such conspiracy. How she should be thrown in jail on principle until his majesty recovered and proved them all wrong. How they had invited a demon into Illyria’s capital and would all suffer greatly for it, deservedly so, until someone had the gumption to burn her at the stake and free them all from her witchcraft.

None of them understood. She was the only one who was capable of alleviating his suffering.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see his gaunt, terrified expression. She vowed to never let it grace his face again. Her husband had suffered more than anyone should ever have to.

“Dizzy, please…make it go away. Make it stop.”

He’d come to her in desperation, unable to support the weight of his own burdens as they sat upon his shoulders. In sleep, he was haunted by memories of the crusades and the many near-deaths of his family and himself. When it jerked him awake, what surrounded him were the endless royal duties of a job he had never asked to have. Ky was psychologically cornered, hyperventilating in terror and practically scratching at his face, begging for anything to lessen the suffering, whether it be calm comfort or a bullet to the head.

Dizzy had found something in-between. She’d placed a hand on either side of his face. Pressed their foreheads together. And with little more than that, all the stress and misery melted away as he went boneless against her. Still rattled, the two of them had just sat for a while. Ky, unresponsive and tranquil, not even twitching as his wife gingerly thumbed at the cheeks turned red from tears and clawing at his own skin. Both pairs of eyes glowed a soft ruby in the low lamplight.

Dizzy had never thought much about what she’d inherited from her mother. Certainly not the bloodlust and desire to conquer. But still, she was still the closest thing Gearkind had to a reigning sovereign, even if that sovereignty came from force. With a simple, forceful command, she stirred to life even the few Gear cells her husband carried. Wherever they were, no matter how sparse, that was her domain by birthright. Any carrier swayed to her orders, no matter how slight or overwhelming. If she ordered him into battle, he would fight until his last breath, survival instincts discarded. Were she to tell him to make a meal, he’d shutter himself in the kitchen and cook until his ceaselessly-moving hands broke and fell to pieces. Upon being told to relax and forget, his mind forced itself into an almost hypnotic trance, flooding itself with calming endorphins into a self-inflicted stupor without so much as a whiff of smoke or a pill on the tongue.

A tyrannical ruler would have used her powers to raise an army. Dizzy just used it to make her husband’s burdens disappear.

Temporarily.

It had only been a brief spell. Nothing irreversible, no lasting damage. She was terrified to do anything more than the minimum. What if she went too far? What if it overwrote his existence entirely?

She said as much to her husband. It would be too dangerous to do again. It was not a choice she made out of cruelty, but out of concern. Of course she hated to see him suffer, but she wouldn’t risk erasing the man she’d fallen in love with.

Yet when he came to her the second time, choking on his own breath, she broke down immediately and put him under again.

The same went for the third time.

And for the fourth.

And again.

And again.

He’d grown fixated on it, the only reprieve he knew that would take away his suffering. An incident turned into an indulgence turned into an addiction. How could she deny him? He came with haunted eyes, heavy shoulders, wet trails down his face. She embraced him. Cast away his agonies. He always came back after he woke up. Always came back to the same suffering. Nobody else would alleviate his pain, who else but her would lift a finger? He came to her. She loved him. So she made him forget.

Ky had never grown cruel. Not once. She would never accuse him of that. He’d always offer her something in return. Payment for peace. She could have done anything to him while he was in such a state. He had said as much, even granted it as compensation for his constant pleadings to be put under. Ky offered himself as a warm body to be used by his wife however she may have pleased, whether it be taking her frustrations out on something that would only whimper, no matter how harsh the punishment, or as a toy to pleasure herself with, to ruin as she pleased. He insisted, even as she looked at him with horror in her eyes, that she was free to use him however she desired.

And…and she had. God forgive her. It wasn’t his fault. He’d begged for relief thrice in a day, and his desperation had sounded so much like mockery that she’d struck him as soon as he was too deep to fight back. Her claws had left a gouge in his arm and, in her continued wrath, she ordered his cells to heal incorrectly.

When he’d awoken, he hadn’t even winced at the new, ugly scar, or asked what had happened. Didn’t even send her a look of upset. That lack of reaction had hurt the most.

And she wished she had ended it right there.

Oh, she’d been so complacent, so uncaring. Ky had made it sound like such a minor thing. He wouldn’t even remember. Wasn’t it harmless? He had made it sound so harmless. He wasn’t anybody when he was properly sedated, not Ky Kiske, not even a pale echo of him. Just a warm body with no thoughts of its own. He had been willing. He had offered it. He had…he had…

He’d bled. So much blood for something that had felt so small. Scratches along his back left scarlet patches on the bedspread, a faint crusty rust under her fingernails. Dull, sludgy red coated the surface of her tail, with more oozing out from his stretched hole underneath her. Without any kind of feedback- no, that put him at fault, without any of her deliberate, conscious care- she had nearly ruptured his lower intestine and flooded his bloodstream with bacteria until his body went septic.

Dizzy had refused to go near him for almost a week after. The castle medics were tasked with looking after him while she hid in shame. Despite what she had done, and what she’d very nearly caused, she could still hear his pleading wails echo through the castle, calling for her.

When her resolve had finally broken, and she’d come to visit him in the infirmary, Ky had crawled out of his bed on his hands and knees. He’d wept with joy and shame, begging for her to not leave again and apologizing profusely for disappointing her.

She had nearly killed him from blood poisoning, and he apologized to her.

Even if Dizzy had been hesitant to even touch him again, he still melted in her grasp, same as ever. Pressed their faces together. Gave himself to her, without the slightest hint of mistrust.

She handled him like a tiny, sickly animal, capable of being maimed beyond repair without the gentlest and most cautious hands. He had become more of a pet than a husband. She tended to his needs, kept him cleaned and fed. Leaving that to his own discretion while he was lucid was just as much an option, but those times had grown more and more sparse as of late, and Ky fumbled about as though still half-asleep. It felt too cruel. He was broken in a way she didn’t know how to heal, and all she could think to do was to slap the same remedy onto an unhealing wound and pretend it was alright.

Sometimes Dizzy took him along for her daily routine. Let him sit slumped against her shoulder, making no noise aside from slow, raspy breaths. Ignored the stares sent her way as she toted her partner around like an oversized china doll. Pretended they were having fun together. Look, darling, aren’t those flowers beautiful? Isn’t that bird’s song lovely? Shall we find a nice place for lunch? Let’s pretend, let’s pretend, let us play fantasy like children until we can’t bear to hold up the illusion anymore.

Most of the time, she just left him alone. Made sure that he ate, made sure he was washed, then left him in bed. He didn’t so much as move unless she ordered him to. She had to come back every few hours to make sure he hadn’t stayed in the same position the entire time and started forming pressure sores. It wasn’t as though any staff came to see him. Even the Illyrian public had found more interesting things to gossip about than their useless, withered king. Ky simply sat, catatonic and forgotten.

Sin liked to stop by. He hadn’t said anything about it. The only reason she knew was from spotting him come and go from the room when he thought she wasn’t looking. She didn’t intervene. Their relationship had always been…complicated, to put it gently. It made sense that the grief was complicated, too. If he didn’t seek her out for help, Dizzy thought it best to leave him to process it on his own terms.

Still, at times, she couldn’t stop herself from lingering by the door and listening in. At others, she’d peer through the crack of the open door. It wasn’t always the same. Sin would sit at the foot of the bed, stare out the window, crawl right into bed with him. The aging mattress creaked when he dragged his father’s limp body into his lap.

“Did you hold me like this?” He’d ask. “I guess I was a lot smaller. But I saw in the photo album. You had one hand like this, holding my legs, and one was like that. I know you gotta keep the head supported right, babies aren’t good at doing that yet by themselves.”

Sin just spent most of the time talking. Venting his frustrations, ruminating on how he felt about the world, reflecting on his own personal philosophies.

“Maybe I should have been the dad, and you should’ve been the son. Or maybe we both could have been girls. I’d have sewn you a pretty dress for your birthday. Would you have liked that? I dunno if that’d change anything. Maybe that’s how it went in another universe. I hope I raised you well. I dunno what I did, but I hope you grew up happy.”

He was happy. That was the part that she could never fully process. This wasn’t her forcing her own wants on Ky, assuming it was what he really desired. As far as any of them could tell, he was genuinely happier like this. What was the alternative? Was forcing Ky to confront the horrors really the kinder option? It was, at least, the braver option of the two.

Dizzy wouldn’t deny that she was a coward.

After all he had done, maybe it wasn’t unearned. He’d given himself to the world as a soldier and a king. He had brought the world peace and helped bring a kingdom to prosper. In what most did in a lifetime, Ky Kiske did in a few years, and then moved onto something new.

He had paid his dues in life. Ky had earned the right to hide away, to retreat from everything, to finally find his own peace…and to rot.

Chapter Text

Naturally, without the means to regularly maintain it, his hair had grown past his jawline and draped along his shoulders. Crow had allowed himself a hint of indulgence in maintaining it for him, with a bit of special attention during the regular sponge baths. He’d brought shampoo from home, rather than use the generic brand the bureau provided, neutral-scented in industrial-sized jugs. He was sure to keep a close eye out for splits and snip any away as soon as they were spotted forming. Dare he say it, but all the effort put in had made it lustrous and soft to the touch, and it irked him just so that Kiske couldn’t appreciate his work.

It did offer a bit of a work hazard, though minor. A few administrators had pointed it out during their visits to his office. Crow placated them with promises that, despite all the nearby machinery, he was careful to move everything nice and slowly to avoid any hair getting snagged. It wasn’t likely that any limbs would be bent close enough for the mechanical parts holding them to catch any stray snags.

The default position had the man exactly eight inches above the lab floor, each appendage enclosed in a supportive metal casing of the doctor’s own design and invention. Crow could appreciate the irony; suspended in the air, arms spread wide made for a spitting image of the crucifix that Kiske had worn under the Holy Order uniform. A martyr for a noble cause. It, like the clothes that had hidden the necklace from sight, had been casually stripped from him upon arrival. He wasn’t quite sure where any of that was now. Probably just some storage unit or another, destined to be forgotten or disposed of when something more important required the space.

Kiske displayed a sense of shame for his perceived indecency at first, understandably so. Crow, in so many words, attempted to make it clear that it was wholly a scientific matter, saving them all trouble. Attempted, at least. An explanation was offered in the most basic of terms, a pantomime of an olive branch without anything actually extending anything. He didn’t need to know the details. That would just make fighting it easier. They needed him. They did not require his clothes.

The humiliation was simply a convenient side effect, anyway.

For the most part, it was just another safety measure. It was easier to see any areas of concern without obstruction. If their purpose was to document everything that could be documented, doing so effectively was of the utmost importance. Kiske was a blueprint in the process of being deciphered. And it was important to be sure that their blueprint sat still and behaved.

A modified epidural catheter poked out from the base of his neck, trailing off into one of the apparatus’ numerous sub-machines and plugging into a tank filled with a cocktail of sedatives, hypnotics, and muscle relaxants. It had just been the needle at first, until Kiske had one-too-many times managed to dislodge it with enough resistant squirming and thrashing. Poor idiot nearly tore something important in the process. Even if he didn’t have to stand of his own volition, it would open up a new multitude of complications if their blueprint managed to sever his own spinal nerves and paralyze himself.

Now, someone a few offices down had made a sturdy collar to better anchor it to the spot. Even if they were all very sure there wouldn’t be any more outbursts of the sort, it still seemed safer to keep it in place, just in case something slipped. That was how they did things at the Bureau. Efficient, yet careful. Never sacrifice safety for results. Otherwise, it got you tricky little troublemakers poking their noses in where they didn’t belong.

Plenty of people had already started asking where the IPF captain had vanished to. The bureau feigned ignorance. Kiske had done a delightful job of not leaving a trail- apparently simply claiming it was a private government matter that needed to be addressed quickly was enough to make him rush right into the PWAB’s waiting arms, without a word spoken to his superiors, co-workers, or anyone else.

Good dog. If only he were as obedient with the rest of the process.

Depending on the dosage and proper mix of the drugs being directly ferried into his brain, its effects varied. If Kiske behaved, it was a calming blanket that soothed and smoothed down the edges of his anger, making him more pliant. If there were difficulties, a stronger dose offered a hypnotic effect, disconnecting the mind from the body and tossing the former into a hazy, stupid daze, incapable of forming a coherent sentence. And, well, if he chose to be particularly stubborn, it was amped up to the highest degree, paralyzing the psyche until it was impossible to so much as tell which directions were up or down or if time had frozen in place. The latter tended to see the most use.

Expecting complacency right from the get-go was foolish, like asking a wild mutt off the street to not snarl and bare its teeth when approached. But much like any dog, its aggression and sense of rebellion could be suppressed…with enough treats and careful coaxing to good behavior.

…What? Violence was an option, of course. Enough beatings could prove a point, but the gentle approach offered one thing violence never could- teaching the dog to like it.

It had been slow progress at first. That hadn’t been a surprise. Ky Kiske was an accomplished tactician and magic-user beyond what most could even dream of, but his sense of willpower was the true source behind his strengths. That would be far more difficult to break. It wasn’t a matter of one single blow, but a persistent pressure applied over time until the barrier walls couldn’t hold off anymore. Long-term disorientation, inconsistency, the unexpected. Leave him alone in the dark for days at a time. Raise and lower the drug concentration at random intervals. Ignore every sound and reaction to the tests until he was startled by having his words acknowledged again.

A psychiatric evaluation was filled out every three weeks. Not personally, of course, they wouldn’t trust the man with any potential weapon in his hands, even something as mundane as a pencil. Instead, someone from the social sciences division arrived with a thick pad and folding chair. They sat in front of the massive contraption with full clinical detachment towards everything around them.

“What is your name?”

“Where are you?”

“Do you know what you are here for?”

A list of questions issued in professionally concise tones. Never responding to the answer, no matter what it was. A set of notes were taken, and the scientist left as abruptly as they’d come.

The first few times, he had attempted a diplomatic approach. It had been amusing to watch Ky very patiently and very concisely attempt to explain the situation, seemingly unaware of the circumstances he was in. He expected that if he was calm, polite, and answered as requested, they would all suddenly decide to shut the project down, all tests suspended, no questions asked, and let him be on his merry way back to the IPF.

It wasn’t a delusion that lasted very long. After that, he’d become combative. The idea must have sunk in that they weren’t going to respond to formality, so he switched into aggression. Hurled insults, thinly-veiled threats, chronic stubbornness. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t given the response he wanted. He wasn’t given any response at all. Reacting would show him that he had some influence on the environment around him. It would offer some hope, however feebly so, that he could work his way out of his situation with enough careful effort. And that simply wouldn’t do.

All Kiske had to guard himself with were his own wits, and, sharp as they were, they still had human limitations. Crow kept a close eye on him, even when he thought he was alone. He felt a twisted delight watching Kiske lower his head and murmur fragments of prayer, an attempt to keep his spirit strong. More and more often, as the weeks stretched on, he’d paused partway through, trying to remind himself of the words to his mantra. At times, he couldn’t even dredge up the answer, and uncomfortably carried on with a fragment of passage he no longer knew by heart.

Even when well-trained, the human mind was a fickle thing. Something as simple as a lack of sunlight could have clear effects with enough time. The drugs merely expedited the process. Time was becoming a foreign concept to him. The world outside of the laboratory was one that only existed in his memory and on the tongue of other scientists that stopped by to discuss the project. Kiske remained valiant, but there was less of himself to protect as his captivity stretched on. Doubt was a slow, creeping vine that slithered along with an iron hold. It took some time to take root, but once it did, it was difficult to kill.

During the regular questioning, he’d started looking in Crow’s direction, like the man could supply him answers. Even when he realized what he was doing and jerked away, it was a promising sight. Kiske was learning to doubt himself. His own existence wasn’t a reliable enough source to draw upon, too dizzy and confused to say he knew anything for sure. All he did know were the tests.

After his ego had been suitably jeopardized, the nervous little puppy started to curiously sniff at his new master, uncertain but not afraid. He still winced at blood draws and sample injections, but gradually, he was beginning to view the presence of the doctor as a familiarity, not a threat. He tolerated electrodes in his brain and dermatome scraping away at his skin as long as the hand holding the tools was a familiar one.

Every once in a while, no matter what dosage he was under, he seemed to come to clarity and flinch away.

“T-this isn’t right.”

Despite the interruption, the doctor kept calm. “What do you mean?”

His subject shook his head, dizzying himself in the process. Even while lucid, the steady drip of hypnotics made his consciousness fuzzy around the edges. “This isn’t right. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Where are you supposed to be, then?”

“I’m- I’m a soldier. I’m a knight. I-I’m supposed to be with the police.”

Crow responded with soft, pitying tones. “No, no. Look at you. Look at the state you’re in. Do you think a boy like you could be a soldier?”

What had once been a paltry barb was now enough to inspire a look of uncertainty on his subject’s face. “I…but I’m…”

“You’re a very ill young man who’s in my care. It seems your delusions are flaring up again. That’s why I have to keep you restrained. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” A hand gestured to the complex contraption.

Ky didn’t look like he quite believed it, but he had no other explanation to go off of. None that he was sure of. “But…I remember…”

“You had a spell for several weeks where you were convinced you were the king of France. I mean this in the kindest of ways, but those thoughts and memories are not as real as they seem to you. They’re just things you’ve imagined.”

His eyes went wide with unease and uncertainty. Even if he didn’t want to consciously believe what was being said to him, his subconscious was already taking it as fact.

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’s difficult with an illness like yours. Just remember that I’m here to ensure that you get well. All I’m concerned with is your health. But that is very difficult when you resist your treatments. Do you understand? I just want you to get better.”

“I…y-yes, sir, I’m sorry…”

“No need to apologize, boy. Just know that what I’m doing is for your own good. “

But those times of clarity were becoming rarer and rarer. Stubborn weeds smothered under the weight of a perfectly smooth blanket of asphalt. The excuses didn’t have to make sense, Kiske just had to learn to not question what he was told. Crow only wanted what was best for him, so what he said couldn’t be wrong.

Ky was much better like this. Much better without that damned stubborn streak making him pull against the leash. He was starting to understand how far nicer life was as a compliant little lamb, nuzzling into his master’s palm whenever ordered to.

The incision site along his collarbone, the spot where the parenteral catheter had been inserted several months ago, had become infected and necessitated a removal until the area could be drained of pus and heal correctly. Crow had a sneaking suspicion that one of the connectors had loosened and let some of the nutritional fluid escape into the surrounding tissue. Were it not for the man’s already affected physical state, he would have taken his trusty scalpel and borrowed some more samples from his test subject to study.

The two made due with a standard nasogastric method for the time being. Crow still needed to feed him, after all. And, despite his scientific demeanor, he found something…almost tender in the gesture. Kiske was so trusting now, letting his head be turned and tipped just so to let the tube’s end slip in and ease down the back of his throat. Even after so many times, he still struggled and coughed around it, but visibly attempted to keep himself quiet and still. He knew it was good for him. Knew to trust his doctor’s care.

If he behaved, Crow rewarded him afterward. Wagashi from his personal stash, imported specially from the colonies. The softer ones, plush mochi dough and anko paste, to ensure Ky wouldn’t bite wrong and draw blood from the lack of practice. It went down gently. Crow fed him by hand, thumbing away any stray flour that managed to cling to his lips as he swallowed. The remaining free hand did whatever it pleased on a given day- playing with his test subject’s hair, pressing a thumb to his throat to feel the cartilage ripple with a contraction, tracing old wartime scars.

It was often difficult to remind himself that his experiment had once been a master swordsman. Any moves he made were ungraceful and sloppy, like watching a newborn kitten stumble over itself. Uncertain of its own motions in the same way it was uncertain of its own thoughts. Though he had no intention of halting the experiments early, Crow had to wonder if the constant flow of drugs had ruined his sense of balance. That plus the lack of use meant it would be a long time, if ever, before Kiske could walk again. If he ever fell out of the apparatus, he would just be a limp, pathetic body scrabbling against the ground, unable to run anywhere to escape from the lab.

Besides, he would never try to run away. He hadn’t been told to.

More out of curiosity than anything else, Crow approached one day with a scalpel in his hand. “Are you ready for your next test?”

A pointless question. It didn’t matter one way or the other. If it was something Crow wanted, his patient just nodded along in approval.

“Good. Good. Just sit still.”

Even with his passive assent, though, he- it, the longer this went on, the more he could only view Kiske as an object to be used- still squirmed when cut into, still whimpered.

Crow only paused for a moment, hushing the squirming body and wiping the forming tears away. “I said to sit.”

“But it hur-”

“No. It doesn’t hurt. You like this.”

“I-I…” It swallowed thickly. Uncertain eyes flicked back and forth. “I…I like it…I like this…”

“Good. Just repeat that to yourself. If you don’t move, I can finish faster.”

It hadn’t taken too long to take everything they’d needed. The PWAB was wickedly efficient where it required. Every ridge of the brain detailed, every line of DNA memorized twice over, even the minutiae of his individual fingerprints were recorded. Then it was just a matter of replicating the necessary parts en masse.

There were only two weeks between the final data recordings and their first working combat model. Even if the real Kiske’s battle skills had withered away, the machine was unerringly precise. A more thorough emulation was precisely what the prototype needed. The difference between the initial tests and the newest were nothing short of staggering. ‘Emulation’ by itself felt incorrect. It was a perfect mimicry.

It would only be a few weeks more before they could be mass-produced and shipped wherever they needed to go. The other offices debated back and forth on what to do with the template. There wasn’t much of a use for it anymore, now that they’d documented every single necessary aspect, and they very well couldn't just let it go free. Standard-issue incineration seemed appropriate, even if the procedure would have to be modified a little to avoid any worries with biohazards. They’d discussed the matter right in the doctor’s lab, and the subject in question didn’t so much as flinch as they openly mulled over the various possible ways of execution at their disposal.

Call him a softie, but Crow had grown a bit of an attachment. With enough polite prodding and favors, he was given the authority to hold onto it for personal use. He’d figure out what that use would be later. Perhaps a lab assistant that was more form than function, wandering around aimless and thoughtless but oh-so-cute to watch. Maybe just a useful slab to test all of his new inventions against. It’d be much easier to test bioweapons if he could cut open an infectee immediately and see the effects.

He cut the body down for the first time in several months. Obviously, its legs had atrophied, so Crow placed it in a mobile chair and walked them both down to the production facility. Fleets of conveyors whirred past, assembling machine parts in a perfect rhythm. The very end of the viewing window offered a hint of the final product- stainless steel automata, perfectly identical.

Crow looked down at his carry-on. “What do you think?” He asked.

“...I don’t know.” It replied, after a long pause. “Tell me what to think.”

He merely grinned, playfully stroking its hair and watching the Robo-Ky units travel down the manufacturing line in single file.

Crow wondered if there was much of a point in even referring to them as such. ‘Robo-Ky.’ What did that indicate? Some sort of robotic replica? An automaton made in a man’s likeness, rather than its own unique form?

Nonsense.

All of it, nonsense…

…After all, Ky Kiske didn’t exist. He never had.

Chapter Text

War didn’t leave memories. It was impossible to forget the horrors one saw on the field of battle, but this never came in the form of memories. Adrenaline and terror snipped thoughts short until they were nothing more than brief glimpses. A perfect recollection of sweat dripping down the curve of the spine and an itch in just the wrong spot as an enemy loomed overhead, flanked on either side by hazy panic. Like a photo in a frame, taken during an event nobody remembers much else of.

The strangest things felt clearest to them as they ran. A wayward stomp into a mud puddle a half-mile ago still sloshed in their left boot, squelching with every step. The chilly mist made strands of their hair plaster to the nape of their neck. Every joint of their right hand, from fingertip to wrist, ached horrendously, but they still refused to drop their cracked sword. They hadn’t looked over their shoulder in quite some time, but they needed to remain prepared if their pursuer managed to catch up.

But they’d long forgotten what they were even running from.

Brisk air was a paradoxical comfort. It offered relief from the intense sweat and blazing heat of overexertion. At the same time, it left a million prickles of cold discomfort along the insides of their lungs, stretched to exhaustion. They finally slowed less out of a genuine desire and more as self-preservation. They couldn’t afford to collapse. If they did, their poor, sore legs surely wouldn’t allow them to get up and stand again. Rest would have to come later. There would be a bed waiting back at camp, they just had to trek back through-

They paused, slowly turning in a circle. Where…where were they? The woods had felt familiar until very recently, how could they have gotten lost so fast? They couldn’t have gotten that far away that quickly. What direction was the camp in? What direction had they even come from in the first place?!

In spite of their military training, they had to force their breathing into tired huffs over hyperventilating, and they could already tell it was a losing fight. They looked up to the cloudy canopy, how spindly dark treetops reached into the mist like spears. Even the mere trees were intimidating.

Running again was too much of a task, so they made do stumbling through the forest. Where were their comrades? They hadn’t come alone, surely someone had to be nearby, right?

But the haze only offered a monotone blanket between the bare trees. No sign of the Order’s white and blue. No familiars. No allies. No commander. Nobody at all.

Their thoughts were already spiraling out of control. They had never wanted this. Combat wasn’t in their blood. All they had wanted was to make their father proud. The two of them had gone into battle together. An unspoken promise, shared in a mere look from the man who had adopted and raised them, that he would do all he could to make sure they would come back from battle alive.

“Father?!” They cried out into the gloom. “Father, where are you?!”

It was a foolish thing to do. They knew the danger of announcing one’s presence in a place where enemies may be close by. They had been too afraid to think rationally. It was like they had become a child again for that split-second, weeping and wailing at the vague ghouls in the closet until their mind’s absolute symbol of safety and security dramatically slammed the door open to whisk them to safety. But daddy wasn’t going to come and save the day. He was far, far away from here, wherever that ‘here’ may have been.

The trees’ few remaining leaves rattled with a passing breeze. They winced at the hissing sound, gripping their sword until it threatened to crack further under the force. Any attempts at self-calming were dead on arrival. Everything in their harried mind was registering as a threat. The hyperventilation was making them nauseous and dizzy, and if they didn’t find a way to ease it, it was likely they’d wind up throwing up.

“F-father!! Help me, p-please! I’m scared!”

The breeze grew harsher. It didn’t take them long to notice that it wasn’t natural.

As they turned again, something smooth and dark and huge slunk past, too fast to catch in full. They could make out just enough to know that whatever it was, it easily overshadowed them, but still moved at a breakneck pace.

“F-father…” They stammered, sword shaking in their failing grip.

It had to be mocking them. With how fast it was, it could have easily lunged and killed them before they had even seen it coming. This wasn’t a wild animal trying to survive, it was something intelligent and rational enough to know how to taunt them.

The darkness collected itself behind them, drawing up to its full size. They watched its shadow swallow their own and proceed to stretch further and further along the ground. Too terrified to even think of turning, all they could think to do was stand and tremble in silent horror, wondering what exactly they had been so unlucky to happen across.

“...Your father is not coming to find you.”

As its size suggested, the voice was thunderous, powerful, and echoed off of the distant trees…and yet, there was a ladylike quality to it, something smooth and almost regal. A noblewoman’s voice.

The discrepancy was enough to briefly knock them out of their terrified paralysis. “What- what do you mean?”

“He is already gone. He has been for quite some time,” she replied, unflinching.

They shook their head. “No. No, he- he wouldn’t do that. Why would you say something like that, that’s awful!”

“I am telling you this to spare you from the pain of heartbreak. You may wait all you like, but it will only hurt you more.”

They had no idea why she would even care. They could only assume this was another way or her mocking them, and they were already getting quite sick of it. It was one of the few things that was melting their ice-cold fear as it continued to glue their boots to the ground and refuse to look their pursuer in the eye.

“Y-you don’t know him. You don’t know my father.”

“I know more than you think.” A strange timbre colored her voice, something akin to disdain.

“He- he’s the man that took me in! That raised me! H-h-he loves me, he wouldn’t just-”

“He will find someone else. A new student. One that surpasses you. The memory of your existence will become obsolete. You will be forgotten.”

“You don’t know that…” They felt no conviction in their voice. Nothing more than a child’s feeble refute.

“I have seen war, child. I know it more than most ever could. The frail, the weak, the mediocre. Only the grandest of the grand live on the annals of history.”

An odd hissing blew their hair forward. The noise was somewhere between a beast’s hot, animal panting and a pneumatic sigh. A Gear. Whatever she was, she had to be a Gear. Their mind had already come to that conclusion, but this just confirmed it. Oh, dear, merciful God, what had they done to deserve a fate like this?

Instead of collapsing into infantile sobbing and begging for a swift death, they tried to reach into themself and draw upon some of their father’s courage. Captain Undersn had been known for his perseverance and bravery. Even if they weren’t his child by blood, so many years under his wing must have given them some of his noble traits, even if only a sliver. Wouldn’t it?

They managed to swallow. “S-so what do you want, then?”

The gargantuan shadow shifted, revealing the outline of a sharp hand. “Come with me. I will take care of you. I will make it that you will never be abandoned again.”

Something about her boldness made a shrill laugh wrench itself from their lungs. “Y-you think that I’ll- that I’ll just drop and come with you?”

Another fleshy-mechanical huff turned the cold sweat of their neck warm. “Of course not. You humans are rarely so easy. But nor am I. I can give you whatever it is that you wish in exchange. Power. Esteem.”

They sharply shook their head. “I won’t b-betray the Order. I won’t betray my father!”

An unexpected stab of courage made them stand taller. Even if they couldn’t defeat such a massive opponent, they could at least go down leaving it with terrible wounds. They would face their opponent head on with bravery.

“Hyyyyeargh- !”

All of their weight was thrown into a deadly sword-swing. But the moment they anticipated it would hit flesh, a strange, floaty dizziness overtook them. Before they could try and react, the sword fell from their hands and landed in the mud.

When they looked up to face their adversary, all they could see was the end of her tail dipping out of sight. They tried to keep turning. Their boots skidded in the mud.

“Slow down, little one.” One finger, itself nearly as long as their torso, pushed them back to balance. “Wouldn’t want to fall, would we?”

“Don’t mock me,” they growled. One hand felt for their temple. The spinning sensation was fading as quickly as it had come, but the echo of it still left them deeply confused. They tried not to show it.

Her long, sharp fingers still had enough delicate precision to playfully prod at their shoulder, using just enough force to make the spot sting. The mud squelched as they tried to lean away from it.

“Ah- but you wish for something simpler than that. Power isn’t what you want.” She said, “It’s obvious simply in your stance. This body is not one you are comfortable in, is it? Your own skin.”

They half-consciously picked at the collar of their uniform, suddenly finding it too restrictive. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t waste our time pretending. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen far too many of you Holy Order mongrels, you all wear your rags the same way. Except for you. Did Undersn give you some kind of exemption? Some kind of favorable treatment so you could show off as little of your body as you physically could? Was even the mere gazes of other soldiers enough to make you feel different?”

Her insults burned more than anything else had so far. They didn’t understand how she could have guessed any of that, but they couldn’t argue back and claim she was just lying like before. Father had never made them feel guilty about it. Sure, a few ‘son’-s and ‘he’-s slipped from the man’s mouth every once in a while, but it never felt like an intentional gesture. They had done their best to be content with that. But…even if their father had loved them endlessly, it didn’t change the fact that they hated the sight of themself in the mirror.

“I-I…”

“I can give you the body you want, the one you’ve dreamt of in countless fantasies. It would be incredibly easy. Many of us are natural shapeshifters. All it would take is a snap of my fingers…and your agreement, of course.”

The Gear’s voice had turned honeyed, and they felt like a fly veering dangerously close to a trap. Was the situation so bizarre that their sense of willpower had eroded away so fast? They didn’t feel right. Something wasn’t right.

They pushed back. “No. I won’t be diverged from my morals so easily. I’ll worry about my body after the war is done. I can’t waste my time with something so selfish, no matter how badly I may want it. That’s what my father taught me, and you can’t change my mind so easily. Self-obsession is sinful, it isn’t what God would want.”

“God.” Her tone turned to disdain. “So you Order mutts still play pretend? Still act as though the way you ravage my kin and murder my children is some divine order from your invisible father?”

“God is not ‘invisible,’” they replied, “he lives in all of us. Some believe that he lives even in Gears like you. He loves all of us. We follow his words so we can find the happiness that he meant for us, even in the face of sin.”

She remained unmoved. “If your God is so compassionate, so all-loving, then why has he allowed this to happen?

“Allowed…what?”

“Look around you, child. A hundred years of war. Uncountable casualties, old and young. Is this the work of a merciful creator?”

A new round of cold breezes made goosebumps rise down their arms. “G-God is kind. God is forgiving. We only suffer because we defy him-”

“Bullshit.” The word came out like poison on her tongue. “If the so-called almighty can be defied so easily, what kind of divine being can he really be?”

Between their bewilderment and the cold making them close their mouth to keep the warmth in, they could offer no reply.

“Your God gave mankind free will with stipulation. Mankind did the same to Gears. Selfhood bound by unfair compliance. What would the purpose of such a thing be, if not to enjoy the sight of its inevitable failure and suffering? Those are the actions of a cruel charlatan. A monster. And you think that deserves worship? No wonder you feel so justified in massacring us.”

The scratchy sounds of dead leaves turned to deep, low droning. In the settling dusk, the pale misty clouds more resembled soot. Their shoulder ached. Had they been clenching it?

“A loving deity would not leave you abandoned here, would he?” She asked. “If your God exists, he does not care about you.”

“Stop.”

“All of your value is tied to being Undersn’s protege. And now, he has abandoned you. Who are you now without him?”

“I said stop.” The incessant droning rattled around in their ears, but their arms were too tired and weak to lift themselves and block it.

“Even your God has deemed you insignificant,” her words rumbled on, unfazed by the pitiful resistance at her feet. “I think that, somewhere deep within yourself, you know that your own existence is nothing of any value. Who you are, that is nothing worth holding onto. After all, you don’t even remember your own name, do you?”

“Wh- ” Their eyes shot open. “What do you-”

“Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you know.”

Though they felt too dizzy to try and move, their body automatically turned to look at their unknown conversationalist. They tilted their head up, and then further, further, further-

It’s her.

A familiar name flashed through their mind for a split second, but like an overflowing lightbulb, it cracked and exploded as soon as the thought made contact, leaving behind smouldering rubble. They knew they were looking at something familiar, and yet their mind was an empty pit of nothing when they went looking for answers. Names should have been so simple, she was…she was…

No! No, that didn’t matter, because all they had to know was themself. And that must have been easy! They had been the same person all their life! They knew who they were, they…they were…

The uncomfortable prickle in their shoulder shifted into a harsh, pulsing pain. Every beat sent their thoughts into disarray. They scrambled for clarity, but everything dissolved into the mist as they tried to grab for it. Not good, not good, this was very not good.

“I…I have a name,” they wailed. “I have a name!”

“Of course you do.” She stood over them, scarlet eyes shimmering in the fog. “I just haven’t given it to you yet.”

Though they couldn’t see how their own eyes had gone murky, dulling further by the minute, they could still feel the stinging gentle pain under their skin. They managed to reach over with one arm and feel something warm and sticky soaking the fabric. Their hand came back stained equal parts red and black.

“Y-you did- somethin’ put somethin’ ‘n my-”

“That’s something you’ll learn about Gears.” Her giant claws were even more frightening beautiful when they saw them properly. “We survive. Even in the tiniest amounts, we survive. And we multiply. Even the smallest fragments are enough to latch onto an organism and start…improving it.”

Fragments. Gear cells. She was already under their skin. Infecting them.

Her eyes never left them. Just continued to watch. It felt as though she were pulling them in. As the seconds ticked by, it only felt harder and harder to look away disobey. She was crawling into them just as much through their eyes as the infected wound. It was a slow agony, and for a painful moment in their scrambling mind, they didn’t care how it ended, only hoping that it would in some way or another.

They futilely tried to push back, but couldn’t even make their body twitch. “I-I-I- “ They slurred, struggling to even stay standing. “I- uh, ‘m not gonna-”

“What you do and don’t do is entirely up to me now. Don’t try to fight. You won’t succeed. It will only make it take a little longer. And you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

No, no, they didn’t want this, they didn’t even want to think about- disobeying orders from their commander!

They cried out again, teeth gnashing and drool escaping the corner of their mouth. This wasn’t them! This wasn’t who they were at all!

But who were they? All they had to follow were the orders being forcibly placed in their head. Had…had they always been there? No, of course not. Their lovely commander had given them herself. It would be best to toss everything away and listen to whatever it was she asked of them.

“Do not worry. I will free you from your curse. From your suffering. From your hideous mortality.”

They stood stock-still as she grabbed a hand around their waist and lifted them in the air. The ground below split apart into a jagged, fleshy maw. In spite of their desire to behave, the sight of it made them squirm in her grasp.

“D-don’- ! P-please! No tight places, I’m clo- ‘m clau-

“Claustrophobic? Perhaps you are. Right now,” she said. “I will fix that. I will cure you of all your human failings.”

With little hesitation, she dropped them. Thick, tongue-like tendrils immediately whipped out and dragged them inside before they could think to fight it off. Only a few moments allowed them to see deeper into the pit before it slammed shut above them, leaving the chamber in near-darkness. Something wet sloshed along the bottom. The humidity was overwhelming, and the rising wetness slapping against their clothes was the only way they could tell that they weren’t already entirely submerged.

The remains of their uniform unwound and sloughed off in scraps, leaving them with no protection from whatever was inside, to their absolute horror delight. The tongues tightened around their throat until only the tiniest wisps of air could get through. The organic space rippled, like it was trying to find a way to swallow them even deeper into the depths. The fluid rose up past their ribs and kept going. Faint tingles turned to prickles turned to pain. Their skin started to burn as it was melted away.

They were terrified

They were elated,

And did everything to resist

And welcomed their new master’s alterations with a smile.

Justice stood over the pit with a smile, watching as her newest drone was taken apart to be put back together again later. What a lucky find, Undersn’s own student! The thought of his reaction at the sight made her cells tingle in delight. A faint echo of pleasure traveled along the vast network that connected her to all of the drones under her sway, and she even allowed them just a moment to pause and share in her joy before sending them back to their duties.

She had even been able to sway them into compliance. Not all humans took to conversion so smoothly, several had kicked and screamed through the first few phases until she was able to put proper roots in their mind and draw them to her. This one, so full of unmet needs and unfulfilled ambition, had only needed vague promises of love and care to be snared into her web.

It was quite sad, in a way. What pathetic things humans were. Her newest doll wouldn’t have to worry about such things when the last of their bothersome humanity was tidied away and replaced with something superior in every regard.

“My soldier, my progeny, my beautiful creation,” she cooed warmly. “You will serve as a peerless testament to Gearkind’s glory and supremacy over those pathetic dregs of life that dare oppose us.”

The thought rippled down below the ground, right into the mind of the half-dissolved body of what had once been a holy knight. What remaining neurons there were lit up with glee at their master’s approval, and for the first time, there was no annoying resistance to sully the sensation.

Nothing but perfect submission.

Chapter Text

He almost regretted not taking the machete with him. Almost. Though it made the trek much slower, it was easier to take notes on the foliage when it was whole, instead of hacked to pieces and trampled into the dirt. Trying to clear a path and trying to make a good map weren’t two goals that went well together.

Chipp, as usual, had approached the matter with more optimism than practicality. It was Answer’s job to meet him in the middle with something feasible. He seemingly hadn’t even recognized the contradictory goals raised in the last town meeting. Chipp had wanted to better graph the territory, but also clear-cut and burn away the brush to make new space. Once more, it had fallen upon his beleaguered secretary to make sense of his scrambled plans.

If they were going to ask people to move here, then it seemed wise to make sure they knew as much as they could about their potential new home. Land layouts, major geographical landmarks, native flora and fauna, and any potential risks to be avoided while traversing. More safe paths would likely be cleared out over time, but they couldn’t plan anything until they knew the best spots available. It was a gradual process. Chipp may not have been thrilled about the whole thing, but he’d eventually understood that Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would the Eastern Chipp Kingdom, no matter how badly he wished it.

The task had been divided up into groups covering numerous acres in various directions. He had felt a little guilty in his insistence to everyone that they stay in their sections and always have at least one companion nearby. All of the people he’d been assigned to travel with weren’t native to the area, and, with no offense meant, he was easily the most intelligent of his group by an impressive margin. Answer preferred traversing by himself whenever possible. It was just more efficient.

Besides, it wasn’t as though they were missing anything thrilling. Answer wasn’t someone who craved constant excitement, but this was about as routine as routine could get. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. None of it particularly interesting, just a lot of terrain to chart. A few spots did show promise. He’d spotted a couple of nice areas that were flat and open, perfect for putting buildings without too much concern for leveling. There had been a relatively clear spring a few kilometers ago, offering potential as a water source or for fishing. He’d taken a few tentative handfuls before leaving. The sun was still high, and while he could appreciate being able to see, trekking in this weather- in a suit, no less!- was making him dehydrated. He had no idea how all these plants could manage to be so vibrant.

At least this spot was a bit more shaded. The thick foliage made it hard to travel, but it kept plenty of sunlight out. Still nothing particularly interesting, but he appreciated the cover.

Ah. As soon as he thought that, something stood out. An odd bit of the greenery caught his attention. Likely due to the wetness. Instinctively, he licked his lips.

Answer moved closer. At a distance, it may have been difficult to tell that the plant was unusual whatsoever. The same mottled green and fernlike fronds that blended in with everything surrounding it. Only upon further inspection did it reveal more strange traits. The fronds were really more like low-lying vines, radiating out from a large central body. Very large, actually- not until he pushed away part of another bush did Answer realize it was nearly as tall as him. Were it not for the lack of any rain lately, he would have assumed its vines were covered in drops of water. The way they shone suggested it was something thicker than that. Answer pushed down the curiosity to touch it, or, god forbid, put it in his mouth. At close range, he could definitely smell it. Cloyingly sweet, almost to the point of gag-inducing. The droplets sparkled under the few slants of sunlight that made it through the canopy.

”Fascinating,” he murmured aloud.

A shimmering little rainbow shield bug scuttled along the nearby brush. Answer watched it raise its feelers and hurry over to the sticky-looking plant.

He lurched back. As soon as the insect tried to lap up a shiny bead on the plant’s vine, the entire arm of it had folded in on itself. The bug was crushed within its grasp before it or the man observing it could think to move.

The man simply stared at it for several moments. He wracked his photographic memory for anything that would be of use. He hadn’t seen anything quite like this on his trek so far. Or ever. The baglike shape to its stalk and strange, twisting tendrils gave it a silhouette like no plant he could recall encountering before.

Answer gingerly prodded the still-curled vine. Several of the others nearby twitched…and remained extended. He took that as a sign to continue. A pen from his pocket was taken as a makeshift stick. Touching it with his bare hands wasn’t something he felt quite safe doing, but he was curious for a better look. It took a few tries, but he managed to hook the tool around the tightly-twisted plant and carefully ease it open. The bug was half-dissolved in a sticky-looking slurry, which dripped into the grooves lining the middle of the vine. He assumed it was some sort of enzyme, designed to break down proteins and fats similar to the human pancreas and liver-bile. Or, more similarly, like the fluids within a venus flytrap.

A new realization struck him. Though the shape lacked glandular tentacles, the shimmering droplets reminded him of drosera plants. The intention was to draw insects in with sweet, sticky mucilage until they became too entrapped to escape, and were promptly consumed. Answer had to wonder if they came from the same genus. Though he’d never encountered one shaped like this, let alone at such a size. How fascinating! Was it a unique specimen altered by its environment? Or was it possible he had discovered a new, undocumented species?

A nearby rock offered itself as a decent seat for a minute or two. Answer pulled out his journal and started to write. Nothing so far had been this fascinating to document! He could only imagine everyone’s reaction. Just going out to scope the land, and he came back with a new discovery! He’d remember the spot. He’d have to bring Chipp- no, he’d have to bring everyone out to see. He wouldn’t dare risk killing it by accident in an attempt to uproot and bring it back, so for now, he did his best to chart as much info as possible and draw the best diagram he could.

A few times, he stood back up to get a closer look. Though the curled section of vine was still tightly wound, a fresh round of viscous stickiness coated it. After a few more careful testing prods, he allowed the back of his hand to brush against it for a short second. It was as thick as it looked. A hint of prickling, a sensation almost a fizzle started on his skin a few moments later. Answer wiped the remaining goop off on his sleeve and made a mental note to keep an eye out for any irritation or rashes later. Answer supposed finding the potential risks and areas of concern fell on him, as the species’ discoverer. It would be a bit worrisome, for sure, having to determine any potential risks on their own to ensure no travelers accidentally poisoned themselves or got a nasty rash.

But, secretly, it had always been a childhood dream of his to discover something new and name it himself. Drosera Answeri, didn’t that have a nice sound to it? But maybe it was an Ergaleium, not a proper Drosera? It was difficult to tell without a point of comparison whether it was a subgenus or not. Yet it only made him more excited!

He had to get a good look at the central bell, he just had to. He’d been hesitant at getting too much of its slime on him, but as long as he was careful, he’d determined there wasn’t too much of a risk. Once he was finished, he could always take a shower. It was humid and sweaty enough to already need one.

After taking a moment to tuck his things away in his hip pouches, Answer approached the odd plant once again. The vine that had snapped up the bug was slowly uncurling, shining wetly. And the more he looked, the more there was something…almost entrancing about its movements. So fluid, so elegant in something so simple. Maybe it was just the thrill of discovery getting to him.

While the topmost section appeared to be open in the middle, he had to nearly stand on his toes to peer over the ridge. Between the space where the long vines extended outward, there was a pocket below that he could just barely make out. Answer craned his neck to look even deeper. The central structure appeared to be pouch-shaped. The shadows made it hard to tell, but it was more than big enough to fit a small rodent, probably something bigger, too. Not unexpected. Something this big would need a lot of nutrients. Any animal big yet careless enough to climb in or fall inside would supply the plant with a lot of food.

Though perhaps he could understand what drew them in. The cloying, saccharine smell was at its peak when he practically had his face shoved into the source. Answer had to remind himself not to try and taste it. Forget however it actually might have tasted, he still didn’t know for sure if it left burns on the skin. Eating the stuff was just asking for a swollen throat.

Still, no harm in just looking, right?

Nothing appeared to be inside the pit as of the moment. Did the vines react when that happened? Was it like the Nepenthes-type pitcher plants, snapping shut to ensure its prey couldn’t make a lucky escape back up and out to safety? Interesting…

As he looked in just a little bit more, his fingers accidentally brushed the outside of the central rim. He immediately winced, watching several vines twitch upon sensing motion…and then still.

“...I suppose I got ahead of myself.” Answer didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his chest began to hurt, and he let it escape. Enough studying for today, the plant wasn’t going to go anywhere as soon as he stopped looking at it.

The humidity had fogged his glasses. Once he’d had a moment to clean it on the lapel of his jacket, he reminded himself of which direction he’d come from and started to trek back.

Answer took not a step forward and felt something brush around his ankle.

Like a snare, whatever it was tightened immediately until he lost his balance. A startled yelp escaped his throat. His arms came up on instinct, intending to shield his face from the rocky ground.

But as quickly as he’d stumbled, something managed to catch him. Something sturdy looped around his waist, halting his fall. Answer cut off his scream. Once a few awkward moments had passed, he lowered his arms. Looked around for his unexpected savior.

“Th-thank you, I don’t know what I-”

It took him a moment to realize that the thing currently wrapped around his middle was not, in fact, a person’s arm.

The vines closer to the plant’s center were a fair bit thicker than the outermost ones. Not quite on the level of a human arm, but nearing there. And, as it seemed, of a similar level of durability as well.

He had to laugh. “I suppose I can appreciate your timing.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have taken it as a shameless attempt to make his future descriptions of it a lot more complementary. Maybe he would, anyway. He could give credit where it was due, even if it was a plant.

Still, he had to actually get home first. Answer felt around the binding on his waist and absentmindedly kicked at whatever was still snagged on his shoe. The stickiness didn’t offer much traction when he attempted to grab onto it. Maybe if he grabbed onto the end and peeled it back? He really should have worn better gloves.

Something that had seemed so sticky did not have the right to be as slippery as it was. After enough awkward attempts, Answer started to dig his nails into it. He really didn’t want to damage the plant, but this was swiftly getting on his nerves. The amount of mucilage that had gotten on his hands was starting to spread more of that tingling sensation. It wouldn’t be much help trying to grab anything if his fingers started going numb. Or worse, what if they were burned? He hadn’t brought any first-aid equipment.

The more he tried to swing his leg, the less movement he could get with each attempt. It was difficult to crane his neck over and see his legs, but he tugged and tugged until it started to hurt his ribs. He peered down to get a good look at whatever root or rock had tripped him up.

As it turned out, it was neither. It was another vine. And, as he watched, a second one appeared, circling around his shin.

It- it was just a plant, wasn’t it? How could it be so sturdy? Being able to crush a tiny bug was one thing, he should have been able to rip this with enough force. He…he had to be missing something here. There had to be an easier way to pull it off of him, he just had to think.

Answer was not given the opportunity. As he absentmindedly shifted his weight against his bindings, a new vine lashed around his neck.

“Ughk- !”

The force wasn’t enough to completely cut off his breathing, but it was still snug enough to feel. Another vine managed to catch his arm as he tried to reach up and pull on it. Then another. And another. Before he knew it, there were several pinning him in place. Thrashing only seemed to set the plant off more. Dammit- of course it did, movement was how it knew there was prey to grab. But what was his alternative? There wasn’t much he could do in his current state, wriggling around and hoping he could get a hand free was one of the few options available. And despite himself, squirming was an instinctive reaction, not at all helped by the slime’s faint but persistent tingling against his exposed flesh. Were it not for the way his arms were bound, he would have already been scratching his skin red.

The plant wasn’t strong enough to completely lift him off of the ground, but how it had him snared was not much different. The collective force between all of them pressed his back against the main body, completely off-balance, kept standing only by his bindings. Every time he moved, he could feel the slime coating it start to soak through his jacket and stain the back of his neck. Another tendril had managed to snag around his mouth. No after what he tried to move where, it seemed there was something pinning it down.

And, loathe to admit it, he’d become skilled with various magics over the past few years, but not enough to invoke it with a mere thought. That was the sort of thing only the highest-caliber mages could manage. The sort who had been raised from birth with natural magical aptitude. If he couldn’t speak or move his hands, then unfortunately, any useful spells were off the table. In any other instance, he would have fallen back on older, dirtier methods of fighting, but those were just as unfeasible as magic. No free legs to kick or hands to scratch or punch. He sure as hell didn’t want any of this stuff in his mouth, so there went biting. At this point, the plant’s safety was becoming forfeit. If there wasn’t any other way to get himself loose other than damaging it, then, so well.

There was a now-persistent itching on the side of his neck where he was being grabbed. Answer squirmed in a vain attempt to make the sensation ease, but it simply triggered the plant to hold on tighter. Another strand draped itself across the top of his head. What was it looking for? There must have been something if it was still going. A plant wouldn’t waste energy moving unless it knew there was food within grasp. A venus flytrap could only close so many times before it died, and the plant couldn’t properly photosynthesize when closed. So what did it want?

A shudder ran up his spine as a sticky glob dripped off the vine and painted down the side of his face. Maybe it didn’t even know. Maybe it had confused him for a strangely large bug and thought he’d go down as easy as one. The vines would uncurl when it realized his clothing wasn’t a very good source of food, or it overtaxed itself and died in the process. Just his luck that such an impressive discovery would vanish so quickly, but Answer had his priorities, and he wasn’t going to give himself third-degree chemical burns for the sake of a damn plant.

The irritating singe wasn’t enough to burn through the thicker parts of his clothes, but he’d already noticed the edges of his coat cuffs fraying and the mask on his face forming holes. He jerked his head back and forth to try and loosen the last of it. The last thing he wanted was something soaked with the stuff pressing right up against the delicate parts of his face. He had no idea if it posed a genuine risk to burning skin aside from just being really, really itchy, but the eyes and mucous membranes were always best left untouched. If he couldn’t see, it would be difficult to walk back to camp alone. For the time being, he just tried to focus on protecting the soft, vulnerable parts.

He could close his mouth and eyes, but everything else was unprotected. That thought wasn’t one that ever crossed his mind of being noteworthy.

At least, not until he felt the thin end of a tendril curl around the shell of one ear.

“Wh-”

Unsurprisingly, any objections of his went ignored. Answer hoped that it was just a quick pass-over, meant to smear more stickiness along his face, but his hopes were quickly dashed as the plant curved inward.

“S-stop that! Get out of there! U-ugh…”

Any discomfort before paled in comparison. The goop made an awful squelching noise as it was pressed against the canal walls. Another harsh shudder wracked him at the sound and texture being pressed right up against something that wasn’t usually touched. Between the itch and the disgust, his mind conjured up images of hot showers and clear water. It was going to be such a pain trying to wash all of this off. He wasn’t going to step out of it for a good couple of days.

The vines were thick but harmlessly blunt as it butted against the inside of his ear. It couldn’t get very far, there was only so much space in the canal. It didn’t take long before it started to get stuck, and that was even before there was anything actually in its way.

He waited for it to hit a barrier and stop.

It didn’t.

The prods continued, pointlessly persistent for long enough for Answer to wonder why exactly they were being so stubborn- and then to be caught completely off guard by a sharp stab of pain in his head. He didn’t have enough time to stifle a yelp, even if he’d wanted to. Even with the blockage, he could hear ringing in his left side, already getting irritating. The damned things had enough strength to tear through the membrane. A fresh warmth joined the hot stickiness already there, and he just knew it was blood.

Forget washing, how long would it take for that kind of thing to heal? What had that medical book said…? A few weeks, at least, and that wasn’t even factoring any infection that might come from having plant sludge all over the wound. Once he got down, he was going to personally burn this thing into an ash pile. Maybe Chipp had been onto something after all with the clear-cutting.

He managed to dig his heel into one of the vines and started to bear down on it, but that had little effect on the one currently inside of him. It was difficult to focus with the disgusting wet sounds echoing through, it felt like even his teeth were rattling from it. Every time it felt as though he was getting a good grip, the feeling of something painfully wriggling in a place it wasn’t supposed to be made him wince and shudder. The torn eardrum pulsed, aching with every heartbeat, and a sense of vertigo accompanied it as the typical pressure it had was suddenly disrupted. In a twisted way, Answer was glad for the grip the plant had on his limbs. Were he trying to stand with all of this going on, he would have just tripped over his own feet from dizziness.

If he couldn’t make the sounds and sensation stop, he would have to find another way to keep his thoughts steady. He could keep track of where the vine buried itself. Perhaps if anything, it would be useful when he tried to pull it out after the fact. He could guide someone else to do it. Tell them where to pull and how. Answer wasn’t sure if he could do the job himself without his hands shaking. As much as he liked to style himself as a rational, intellectual counterpoint to his boss, he wasn’t inhuman.

If it had moved past the eardrum, then that meant it was near the trio of bones in the middle ear. That- that wasn’t a massive concern, anyway, doctors did surgery there. Not particularly unusual. Of course, with the passageway plugged up, it wasn’t like the vibrations were registering very well. He wasn’t sure if he could even call what he was hearing ‘sound,’ it may have just been pressure shifts in feeling something force itself along-

He shuddered at the sensation of something popping. Likely the cochlea. Even if it didn’t hurt, the sounds it made were creating a new form of misery. The hands at his sides stiffened and curled into claws, desperate to vent their disgust in some physical way.

The tip slithered along the loop of the spiraling cavity, brushing along the cilia that lined its interior. Somehow, it was thin enough to push even further, puncturing a pinprick through the opposite side, pressing aside the labyrinthine artery and the several nerves that occupied the narrow hole of the internal auditory canal. Nothing seemed to crack, but it only worsened the sense of revulsion. This didn’t belong in his ears, let alone so damn deep. How was he going to get all of this cleaned out? Was he going to be able to hear on that side again? The thought of it was making his anger melt into desperation.

If the situation were different, he may have been impressed at how persistently deep it had gotten. The strange fizzling continued, sensation spreading in a place that felt wrong on principle. Answer wasn’t sure if he was able to feel the inner contours of his own skull normally, but it wasn’t like anything else was supposed to be in there aside from the heap of gray matter and the blood vessels that fed it. All of that sat inert, unmoving, untouched. Until now.

There were no nerves in the brain, but he could feel the tendril following the cavity floor, curling up again once there wasn’t any further to go. He might have felt impressed, if he didn’t feel uniquely violated in a way that made him regret his photographic memory. He wasn’t sure how many inches of vine had forced itself inside of him, and it was difficult to tell if that was from the rising panic or the level of disorientation that came from having a path ripped open in the side of his head.

Answer could make out more fizzling from somewhere within his damaged ear canal. It didn’t seem like it mattered, the stupid thing had already made enough of a mess. When would it realize there was nothing left for it to try and dig into?

The fizzling continued. Now it was just annoying. Something about it was making the vertigo worse. Was it burning the rest of his eardrum? What else would it be-

A horrified realization struck him that the plant was doing exactly what it was supposed to do. Dissolving proteins and fat. It just so happened that it couldn’t tell the difference between an insect and a human. Skin and fabric took a while to burn through. But the vine had reached a place that didn’t have any protection left.

“Y-y-” In a rare moment, Answer was lost for words. “You’re not, you can’t-”

But a plant wasn’t something he could negotiate with. As soon as it realized it was curled around something nice and fatty, more mucilage oozed out with fervor.

It had found food.

“Stop. S-stop.”

He knew it was useless. The words fell out anyway.

“Get out of my head!” He shrieked, words muffled by the vines still wrapped around his mouth and airway. “Stop it! Stop it!” The vine tugged, nudging his head to the side. “Stop! Help! Help me!!”

Nobody was there. Nobody was going to come. And he knew that, because he had done it on purpose.

Answer had no hesitation in shedding whatever dignity he had remaining. He screamed as loudly as possible. He kicked and stomped and scratched. Drool ran down his chin as he tried to gnaw through the thick outer layer of the plant’s tendrils.

The tingling didn’t stop. It didn’t even ease.

It had been a while since he had experienced legitimate panic. His veneer of intellectual rationality was leaving him quickly. He didn’t want to cry. He probably already was anyway. Half-baked plans of escape flitted through his thoughts, imploding before he could give them any real thought. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the panic or because that part of it was currently being rotted away.

It couldn’t- that couldn’t already be happening, could it? The vine had just started wrapping around the inside of his head, it couldn’t already be-

A nauseating collage of colors and sensations flashed through his brain, struggling to function as an external force damaged it. Axons sent out unreceived signals. Dendrites sat and waited for cues that didn’t come. It made sense, with how it was positioned, it had to be pressing right up against-

He paused, struggling against another burst of vertigo. It was pressing somewhere. The temporal lobe.

…Right? Was…was that the temporal lobe? That sounded right. The bottom part. Short term memory? Was that actually it, or was that just what he was thinking about right now? Why was he doubting himself, he was supposed to be a human database! He knew this!

The uncertainty of the situation terrified him. Whether conscious or not, he tried to soothe himself with knowledge. Lobes of the brain. Frontal, temporal, parietal, occipital. Simple.

Tingling. Fizzling. Answer tried to steady his ragged breathing.

Path from the ear to the brain. He knew it. He’d just done it. Focus on that. Keep calm.

Outer ear. Ear canal-

Nausea crawled up his throat. Somehow, he managed to swallow it down.

Fizzling. Fizzling.

-Eardrum. Middle ear. Three- two- no, three bones of the ear. Malleus, staples, inc- incus?

Something viscous dribbled down the back of his throat from his nose. He coughed it up. It left a pink stain in his lips, and startled tingling.

Inner ear. Into the curve of the…

of the…

of-

Fizzling. Dissolving. Eating.

Th- there was an organ after that. Between the middle part and the brain. No- was it an organ? What made an organ an organ?! No, nonono that didn’t matter, focus on the…on the…

He tried to resist, tried to reorient his swaying thoughts, but this wasn’t a matter of willpower. Chemical reactions weren’t altered through the power of positive thinking. Removing the vine was his only logical course of action, but his arms were still pinned to his sides, useless. Nothing to do.

Thoughts failed to connect. It didn’t take long before he stopped trying. A trail of sticky, frothy pink drool oozed from the corner of his mouth.

The worst part was that it never even hurt all that much. At first, it was little more than a dull ache. Once the nerves started to die off, there was nothing but a faint kind of pressure. There was a point where it was…calming, even. A faint ripple passed through the vine as it carried out a trickle of liquefied food and its own slime. It almost felt like a massage against the inside of his head, even against the waning throb of his torn eardrum. It didn’t register that anything bad was happening at all.

“What in the name of- ?!”

Noise didn’t register in his head anymore. With how heavy he felt, very little did. It was just a brief interruption, sure to leave as quick as it’d come.

What he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of falling. Without warning, whatever was holding him fell away, and he was sent plummeting into something hard and unforgiving.

If not for the fact that the force knocked all the air from his lungs, he would have screamed. Numbness gave way to hypersensitivity. Heat, noise, odors, raw skin. Each alone overwhelming, but all together so tortuous that he wished for the numbness like he had never wished for anything before.

Strands of hair draped over his eyes, but the painful light managed to get through easily. He blinked. Something shiny stained the ground. Right in the middle, feet.

“Answer?”

The feet moved closer. He twitched on the ground, groaning in discomfort as soon as he tried. His eyes pulled shut to try and alleviate his suffering. Everything hurt. He wanted the numbness. Why had it gone?

Something grabbed onto him, pulled him upward. Resisting another sound of pain took too much effort. It didn’t come from his mouth as much as it flopped out, along with a mouthful of something slimy and sweet.

A low voice gasped. Something rough brushed at his face. It already hurt enough, were they trying to torture him more? No more, no touching, all he wanted to do was curl up and die.

“Let me see your eyes. Did you hit your head?”

Very few of those words even registered as words. He was too exhausted to obey, anyway. Something decided to do the job for him, nudging a lid upward until the miserable burning light could get in again.

“Nguhhh…”

Everything was blurry. But the motion of having his eye open reminded him of how the motion was supposed to go. He copied it a few times, and eventually, the fuzziness started to clear up. The large, shadowy shape across him started to take form.

A large man, eyes icily strong and hair tied back in a fan. Familiar. Look on his face that he couldn’t think of a word for. Same for the rest of him, actually. Very familiar. The man’s name was on the tip of his tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. An- Na- Nana? Nana-something? Oh, his head hurt…

“Answer? What on earth happened here?”

“Hhhhuh…” His head lolled to the side. Too bright, too loud. Neck stiff. “Na- Nana-”

“Answer.” Something nudged his face back in the opposite direction. Being moved hurt more, but something about it still felt like the least-awful thing he’d been through so far. “Can you hear me? Are your legs injured?”

The less-awful thing touched him again. Tried to pull him up. Everything dangled uselessly. Everything hurt, and nothing did what he wanted it to. His legs felt distant, unattached.

He realized that the feeling on his shoulder was Nana trying to help him stay up, but the grip on him was the only reason he didn’t immediately fall in the opposite direction. Being higher made his head spin, he felt dizzy enough before his body started swaying.

“-swer. Answer? Can you hear me?” The man put his free hand under his chin, tilting it up until they were staring at one another. “Focus. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He gagged on the spittle in the back of his throat. Despite it, he couldn’t swallow. Coughing around his words was the only option.

“‘ead hurts. R-real bad.”

His legs gave up. Nana helped him back to the ground, sitting and leaning against something sturdy. Something nearby made the ground shiny. The sight of it made him strangely sick. All he wanted to do was cry and scream and throw things until all of the bad feelings went away, but doing any one of those would have been a struggle

Nana turned his head again. Something brushed his cheek. It didn’t feel bad.

It didn’t last. Nana didn’t touch him, but when he touched something near him, it made his head hurt. Something started to tug, but as soon as he started wailing, it stopped.

“...No,” the other man shook his head. “That would be poor first aid. We shouldn’t try to remove it until we’re certain we can do it safely. Do you know if it’s rooted? Is it attached to anything? Can you feel where it is?”

All the questions just overwhelmed him more, and the jabby pains in his skull grew worse. He must have started crying at some point, because when he finally managed to cover his eyes to block out part of the sensory information flooding his poor, sore head, his cheeks were wet.

“U-uh- “ The other man stuttered, and that just felt wrong. He didn’t know much, but Nana didn’t do stuff like that. “I should have brought the others after all...”

More people just would have made it even worse. On instinct, he grabbed at the air and managed to clutch a fistful of fabric. Nana’s coat. He refused to let go.

“Answer…” Nana’s voice turned low and rumbling. Nice. Like the touches. Comforting. “I know you’re uncomfortable. I promise we can find you someplace better when we get home. We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. Can I pick you up?

For several moments, he tried his hardest to process the words. Several still didn’t come to him. “Mmmh.” He managed a nod, feeling something slimy tickle his neck.

“Good. Just try to hold on. This may hurt.”

He really, really didn’t want it to, but Nana grabbed onto him before he could make a sound. He dangled again, but something strong kept him in place.

Being higher let him see more, even if a lot of it was still blurry and strange. The dirt was strange all around them, covered in bits of green. When he looked nearby, something cut through the head fog to get his attention. Some kind of cut-up plant, oozing the same shiny stuff that was all over the ground.

He felt sick again.

Nana pulled something from his other side. Something sharp and shiny. A sword. With the blunt side of his blade, the man dug into the dirt and pried up the biggest part of the plant.

Without thinking, he started screaming again. “No! No no no!!” He wailed in terror, reeling back and grabbing onto the man’s coat. “Bad plant, bad!!”

“Shh…” A large hand gingerly stroked his head, and he fell silent. “I’m just taking a sample. If we bring this back to the capital, hopefully we can figure out how it works, and what steps we can take to treat you without causing further harm.”

Most of those words didn’t make sense to him, but Nana spoke so confidently that he instantly believed and trusted all of it. He felt dizzy again. The dizziness made his insides feel bad. He buried himself in the man’s sleeve and whined pitifully.

“I’ll walk as fast as I can,” Nana said, in that nice, low rumble that made him feel just a little more okay, though none of what he said made any sense. “The plant should be dead if it’s cut off from the main body, but I don’t know what dangers may still be present. Once we get back to the capital, we can-”

The voice went silent. Even if he didn’t understand it, it was still comforting, and he didn’t like that it was gone.

“...I’ve got you. Alright? You’re safe.”

Now most of that, he could understand. Even if everything hurt and nothing made sense, he had something to trust. He didn’t know where they were going when Nana started to walk, but he didn’t mind it as much if they were going together.

Chapter Text

Relius despised this erratic world, and all the simpleminded fools that stumbled about within it. Though he’d learned how to pass in public, he truly loathed every moment of plastic pleasantries, feigned politeness, and idle drivel that distracted him from his work. All of them so small and narrow-minded, not even capable of comprehending the scope of his labors even if he wasted precious time trying to enlighten them.

Though as much as he despised it, he still had to venture out from the depths of his lab for the sake of his studies. He very well couldn’t trust Hazama with delicate work, and he already trusted Hazama more than he trusted most, even if that ‘more’ was still ‘hardly.’ In an ideal world, there would be others like him, others of him, intellectual and rational enough to grace with such work. But this world was not ideal, not yet. So here he was.

His place in the NOL gave his access to a steady stream of information. It currently noted the movements of Azrael, the death bringer. Despite the impressive history the man had, it appeared there was very little information on who- or what- he was.

And that was one of the few things that Relius simply could not stand.

It wasn’t as though Azrael went out of his way to hide. If anything, that only made it more frustrating. He always appeared in a blaze of violence and bloodshed, yet somehow so much of him remained unknown. Even when he wormed his way into Kokonoe’s databases, there was little to be found. Rumors abounded, as they often did. Some said Azrael was a uniquely-blessed mortal man. More insisted he was something inhuman. The prize result of a supersoldier breeding program, a wielder of a unique form of combat sorcery, a mimicry of a Nox Nyctores, perhaps even a genuine Nox given sentience. But nothing concrete. Nothing certain.

Nonetheless, Relius was a patient man. One did not get as far as he had without a good deal of it. But the very moment the opportunity presented itself, he gathered his things and set out in search of a runaway dog.

/

It was unsurprising to find Azrael doing what he spent most of his time doing. The current victim of his attention appeared to be a traveling merchant, vastly underqualified to fight such an opponent. His cart of wares had been overturned and smashed against the ground. He likely would have been more upset about the blow to his livelihood, were he not currently more worried at avoiding the blows to his body.

“Put the poor, pathetic thing down, won’t you? I can’t imagine this is the sort of conflict you find suitably stimulating.”

“Hmm?” Azrael turned to the new voice, momentarily distracted. Just enough so that the poor sod pinned under him could worm free and sprint away as fast as his mortal legs could manage. “I was gonna eat that…”

“Don’t despair, I doubt he would be much more than sinew. Not particularly appetizing.” Relius replied, adjusting his gloves as he approached. “With that matter dealt with, follow me.”

The half-naked man scrutinized him, taking in the sight like a wild beast scouting potential prey. “Oh, you’re hard to miss.” His eyes widened. “Wait a second, I know you! The old cat talked all about you!”

“Azrael, the rogue of Sector Seven. It seems you are aware of me. I don’t suppose you know, then, why I’m here?”

“Finally come to witness true strength?” The man replied with a vicious grin.

Relius held back a beleaguered sigh. “I will concede curiosity,” he stated, “but nothing more. I have no interest in whatever nonsense motives you’ve concocted within that thick skull of yours. My only interest is in the quality of your soul.”

“So I see! Well, then why don’t I give you a good look up close and personal?!”

With little fanfare, Azrael threw himself forward. It would have been a dizzying speed for most other men, ones that weren’t Relius Clover. The attempted blow only met air.

Relius stood to the side, arms folded behind his back. “Heel, mutt. I have little interest in such debasement. Let’s spare ourselves the wasted effort and be done with this, shall we?”

“Ah, the words of a coward! She never mentioned that, what a waste!”

He sighed in irritation. “Find, if you are so insistent. Ignis?” Relius snapped his fingers. She shot forward the moment there was a sound.

Azrael grinned, a manic look in his eyes. “So you do have some fight!” He eagerly dove into another swing and eagerly grappled against the android.

From the side, Relius watched. A few more attacks were thrown in his direction. Ignis either stepped in the way to block them, or he just as calmly stepped out of the way again. Relius knew this sort. Thinking that brute strength could surmount every obstacle. It only puzzled him further in how so little had been known about the man up until now. Azrael was painfully easy to read.

“Are you even trying?”

Relius held back a smug smile. Azrael had immediately turned in his direction, only ducking away from a swing from Ignis at the last second. The man growled, throwing himself back into fighting with a fiercer glare.

“What, can your thick skull not allow for more than a single thought at a time?”

“A real man would fight, instead of hiding behind their toys! No matter! I’ll scrap this heap of crap and have you for the main course- !” a harsh backhand blow sent Azrael head-over-heels to land in the dirt. It didn’t take long for him to get back on his feet, but there was a halting moment where he shook his head.

“Focus on me, dog. I thought you had been serious.”

Ignis’ claws could have done some serious damage, but he had instructed her not to focus on overpowering her opponent. Instead, she danced around Azrael’s blows, using his own momentum against him to send him into a flying skid. Transparently toying with him rather than engaging full-on.

“Clover! Ngh, you bastard!” Azrael spit out a wad of blood and swung out a leg. “Even your doll’s a coward!”

“Now, now, didn’t I tell you to focus?”

Beyond the scope of his magic, the true keystone to Relius Clover’s accomplishments was his voice. There was nothing fundamentally abnormal about it, but the control he had over how he spoke was skilled. A perfect mix of coldness and eloquence. It turned heads and drew attention. Relius could command a room in only a few sentences.

Azrael fell for it quite easily. It wasn’t something most even realized before there was a grip on them. While not a few moments ago he was only concerned with battle, the very second Relius made a sound, his attention waned and went elsewhere.

His movements grew sloppier and sloppier with enough time. Not from tiredness, but an external force. Relius subtly exerted a flow of magic around their impromptu arena, drawing everything to him. His voice could sway focus. A bit of sorcery allowed him to sway a mind more fully. Not full control, but enough to suggest. Enough to push and pull. Enough to distract.

With his empty hands, he warped the space around him and summoned his altar to where he stood. Industrial concrete and metal took form around the two, though Azrael was so distracted it was likely he didn’t even process the change. His movements only came from instinct now. They were fairly impressive instincts, enough to still put up a good fight, but Relius already knew the outcome of this, no matter what his opponent tried to do.

An array of chains flew out from the depths of his cloak. It only gave Azrael a moment to react before they snared his limbs and dragged him to the ground. He began to holler, but it didn’t stop him from being pulled behind the closing doors of Relius’ laboratory. In an unfocused fit, the other man jerked back and forth in a vain escape attempt. His free hand grabbed at the air, trying to latch onto anything, whether it be something to attack or something to help him escape.

The issue with fighting barehanded was that as soon as someone went out of arm’s length, there was little to be done. It didn’t matter how powerful Azrael was. As soon as he was strung up, he was no longer any kind of threat.

He resisted, of course. They always did. Snarls and bared teeth, threats of violent retribution. Easy to ignore. More important things required his attention.

Relius was sure to be certain there wouldn’t be squirming. He hung the other man from his ankles, neck and arms shoved through a reinforced stockade to keep his back stiff. Dazed or not, there was no point in being sloppy. Minimize movement. A surgeon’s precise hand still had to compensate for a subject moving beneath him.

Magical glyphs of his own design encircled the floor beneath where his subject hung. He put a hand on the other man’s face to steady him. With the other, a perfectly-honed spell slipped loose and dove in between the place where Azrael’s body and spirit connected to one another. The threads were swiftly sheared, and the ethereal mass was ripped loose. It landed gently in Relius’ hands.

The soul. Even after his many experiments, the sight inspired a deep fascination. Perhaps the inconsistency between living things made it always something new to see. He quickly occupied himself in analyzing it.

Though there was no weight to it, the object shone like an opaque gemstone. Not a perfect sphere, but pleasingly rounded around every corner. A uniform glow from every surface side. Azrael’s tangible soul was something so plain, so simple, so straightforward, so…

“...Fascinating.”

The so-called ‘Mad Dog’ was as much of a battle-hungry meathead as he looked. But he put on no pretenses of being anything else. For reasons that nearly eluded him, Relius Clover found himself…pausing.

He turned the object over in his hands, watching the surface ripple. It was difficult to explain what the fundamental human essence looked like to the untrained eye. It was a form of sensory perception all its own. Even if he cared to educate the idiots below him, he would have some difficulty with his words. Like trying to explain sight to the blind.

The only concise word he could find here was ‘clear.’ Unmuddied, crisp, uniform. Even if he were a bullheaded fool, Azrael lived with more conviction than most of the common drivel. Even his very soul was so cleanly straightforward, unembellished and pristine. Not marred with regrets and doubts and the other various stains that dotted every other soul he scrutinized. Even Nanaya was difficult to compare when it came to something of this caliber. ‘Perfection’ was a word ill-suited to anything organic, but until now, he had never seen a soul so close to the idea of flawlessness.

It wasn’t enough to break Relius’ stoicism. Nothing in the world had such a capability. But internally, his coldly logical mind had sprouted the tiniest of cracks. For the first time in a very long time, something had well and truly surprised him.

And yet, a crack was still something large enough to let things pass through. Neglected emotions crowded around the peephole to the outside world, fighting one another to see who would first escape before they were all shoved away into the recesses once more.

The little sprite that flew free from his mind bore the name of want.

Even under his rationality, Relius wanted. He always had. Knowledge, power, understanding. Not petty things, mind, but stubborn desires all the same. He was of the mind that his wants were something absolute, only the most rational and sensible to justify their pursuit. In that regard, Relius Clover was little more than a selfish, spoiled child, believing he deserved to have everything he ever wanted and resenting the world when it didn’t fall into his lap. He’d throw away every goodness in his life if he thought it would bring him a step closer to the objects of his desires- throwing away old toys in favor of stubbornly grasping for new ones

Azrael was near-perfect, which meant that Relius needed to have him.

/

Confusion was not an alien sensation, but…not like this. Never like this.

Even before, it felt as though something had reached right into his skull and pulled connections left and right until he could barely tell what direction was where. That enough rattled him, but then Clover, he…his hands...

He knew on instinct that the core of his existence had been torn free from his mortal body, but he somehow remained conscious. At least, in some sense of the word. There was no all-covering coldness he would have associated with death. Something had been pried out of him. The sensation was beyond description.

Azrael could see his own hanging body, and he stared at Relius Clover from afar as he held something pulsating and glowing that painted his pale skin even paler. From either pair of eyes, all he could think to focus on was Relius. His mind didn’t want to conceptualize anything else.

Was this some kind of torment? Was this the cruelty that Kokonoe had spoken of when she mentioned the man? Make him fully aware and attentive as he was given a slow, agonizing demise?

He waited for death to arrive, doing his best to manage a final sneer in the face of his killer.

It did not come.

When Relius pressed a hand to the glowing object, a strange sensation permeated Azrael’s body. But he would not describe it as an attack. It didn’t hurt. Like a blow that wasn’t a blow.

He was…stroking him?

Gentle. It was gentle. Azrael didn’t know the feeling well. Fighting was his life, he didn’t handle things gently. And, as a fighter, others never did anything but reciprocate the violence or try to flee. Relius Clover, whom Kokonoe had only characterized with an icy disposition and callous efficiency, was holding onto his living essence with the most gentle touch Azrael had ever known. It was a peculiar feeling. It brought along more strange thoughts.

As much as a part of him deeply desired to return to their fight, or at least struggle, Azrael found himself melting into the touch, willing more.

For a brief moment, there was almost something tangible between the two of them. They were offered the faintest peek between the veil to some other reality. Two other men wearing their faces. A place of picket fences and domestic mundanities, a place of ‘honey, I’m home!’-s and wonderfully dull pleasures. Just for them and their raggedy offspring.

But the moment passed, and all that remained was a laboratory housing a war criminal and a living weapon.

With little hesitation, Relius reached for his tools and began to do what he did best.

Chapter Text

A man stands inside of a house.

Is it his?

Yes, it must be. Why else would he be here?

He mills about, occupying himself with the chores. Dishes to be cleaned, messes to be tidied away. Even if he’s not sure where the right tools and brushes are, they’re easy to locate with a bit of intuition and scouring around.

Something is missing. He isn’t sure what. There’s a vacant gap somewhere in his head. He’s not sure why, but it feels important.

A thought strikes. He needs to check the attic for something. There’s something up there that he needs.

Hmm, where are the stairs? This is where he lives, shouldn’t he know? Maybe it’s just left his mind for a moment.

He turns his head left and right. Ah, there they are. Something about them feels far clearer than the rest of the house. He can make out the striations in the wood, the details in the carving on the bannister. Something about it makes him even more fixated on climbing them. He wants to see if the upstairs is just as vivid.

As he moves toward the steps, something very nearly trips him. He stumbles over his feet. A strangled curse escapes his mouth. When he looks down, he sees a cat staring back. Its eyes are wide and luminous. The midday sun streams through the blinds and leaves its fur almost reddish.

It looks at him, almost plaintively. Does he need to feed it?

“Follow me.”

He blinks in confusion. The fact that it speaks is strange. That by itself makes him hesitant to trust what it says. The animal winds around his legs, butting at his shins.

He turns in the direction of where he suddenly knows it’s trying to direct him, then turns back. “I’ll do it in a minute, love. I just need to get something out of the attic first.”

“Don’t go up there.”

“...Huh?”

“Follow me,” the animal insists. “I don’t want to wait. Let’s go now.”

His brow furrows. It doesn’t matter how insistent the thing is, he can still toe it aside with relative ease. He pushes past and walks toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?!” The cat scurries after him.

“I’ll help you in a second! Sheesh, I just need something, I’ll be right back.” He approaches the bottom step, reaching out to grab the bannister for safety.

“Don’t- !”

The smell of smoke fills his nostrils. For several moments, it’s the only thing he can process.

His eyes struggle to focus. Everything comes in unfocused and blurry, but trying to squint just makes it worse. Smears of gray and white and dull red and more gray paints everything around him. Iron and something sour mixes into the smoke smell to the point it starts to hurt. Something in the distance shatters.

Wherever he is, instinct tells him it’s not safe. But his muscles don’t want to respond. His vision is blurred and his limbs are heavy, but the thoughts are passing through as fast as ever. The lack of a response from his own body only makes him panic further.

If he can’t stand up and walk, then he’ll have to drag himself. Something jagged digs into the soft skin of his belly. When he tries to move, he feels it come with him. The pressure against his chest makes him cough. It comes out as more of an awkward wheeze, and something dribbles from the corner of his mouth.

Gravel grinds somewhere behind him. The sound hardly registers through the blood pounding in his ears. The feeling of what he can only assume are claws against his neck, however, are impossible to miss.

“I told you not to move!”

It’s a distantly familiar voice, but his overtaxed brain is too busy trying to keep him alive to connect it to a name and a face. The claws against his throat tighten.

A hot, sharp breath puffs against one ear. “Down-”

He blinks.

A man stands in a hole in the ground.

Had he dug it himself?

Yes, he must have. Why else would his hands be caked with its dirt?

He looks them over, turning them one-by-one. His knuckles are mud-stained. What a mess. He should have used gloves. What on earth could have been so important that he dug so much by hand?

When he looks around, it quickly catches his attention. The hole opens up not far from where he’s standing. A more organic path stretches out into the distance. A tunnel. Scarlet stones stud the walls, glimmering vibrantly despite the small amount of light coming from above.

Treasure! He’s found treasure! He sprints down the corridor with glee. The stones are beautiful. If he can just pry a few out, he’s sure he could make a lot of money! No wonder he’d been digging. There are so many just in this spot! How far down does it go? Is it all like that? Can there be even more?? He just has to go and see- !

Actually…

Maybe just diving in isn’t the safest idea. It’s bad enough to be doing this by himself. He needs a helmet, or, at the very least, something to help him see. And they’re rocks, it isn’t as though they’re going to be going anywhere quickly.

He turns to leave and climb back out. But as soon as he does, the walls grow unsteady. Dirt begins to tumble down the wall and form into heaps.

He runs. It doesn’t take long for the unstable path to begin falling in on itself. Root clumps land on his hair as he dodges the heavier things that fall. Pebbles bounce off of his shoulders. His breaths quicken. The dirt pours in with an intensity so fierce, it feels as though it’s intentionally trying to smother him

Despite how brief it’s been, the exit is nearly gone by the time he makes it back. He throws himself into it, desperately shoveling aside handfuls of soil to make the hole bigger. It refills nearly as fast as he can remove it. The panic in his chest rises further. It motivates him to go faster. He watches the faint beam of outside light waver, and in a moment of pure desperation, he throws himself into the gap.

His head and arm burst through the heap of dirt and stone, and his lungs fill with the scent of something artificial.

Immediately, his arm is someplace else. He’s…not really sure where. Nothing feels quite connected to anything. The darkness is gone, but his heart still races. The light overhead is blurry, yet is still powerful enough to hurt his eyes. They go elsewhere to ease the burning.
The ocean- no, no, that isn’t right. The color is familiar. He’s covered in something blue. It makes the patches of red more stark in contrast. Vague as they are, he’s unnerved on instinct. Shit- he needs to get up. Nothing’s working, why is nothing working? Where is he?! What’s going on?!

As he looks on, something new bobs into sight. The something toys with the red spots. Is- oh god, is it eating him? Just the thought makes him want to thrash in disgust. No such motion comes out. Just a feeble wiggle.

It’s still enough to immediately catch the thing’s attention. “Y-...-ous?”

Even if it was more than a snippet, he doubts he’d be able to make sense of it. The voice sounds as though it’s coming through water.

The person it belongs to seems to look elsewhere. “Ba-...more...-eep.”

Before he can try to decipher any meaning from the jumble, an oddly familiar sharpness latches onto the side of his head.

“How did you- ?!” Another voice hisses, painfully crisp in contrast to the other’s. “Down-”

He blinks.

A man lies at the bottom of the seafloor.

Can he breathe?

Yes, he must be able to. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have already drowned?

He watches the long strands of hair fan around his head. It reminds him of an anemone. He wonders if any clownfish will be confused enough to come near.

Well, he supposes he can find out. His arms sluggishly swing at his sides, and with enough motions, he’s in a better position to properly swim. He can’t help but find the heaviness soothing. He’s content simply paddling along and enjoying the scenery. Fish in all sizes and forms swim by.

He counts the colors. A verdant green in the seagrass. A silvery shimmer for the carp. A muddy beige on a flounder.

A crimson light glowing in the depths.

It catches his eye the very moment he spots it. Something about the glow commands attention. His own body betrays him, immediately swimming after it. The light is calm. Reassuring. It calls out to him.

A deeper part of his mind can tell something is amiss. It tugs him in the opposite direction, but the pull is too strong. The light wants him. He wants it.

The water around him darkens with the depths. It’s nearly black now. The thought hardly crosses his mind. All that keeps his attention is the mysterious light. He needs it. Needs to let it consume him. It doesn’t matter what it is or where it came from. All he knows is that it’s the most important thing to exist.

The closer he gets, the more it starts to move. He can see it bob back and forth, leaving a glowing trail. With a few more paddles, he’s nearly close enough to touch it.

Something else is within arm’s reach. The light offers just enough illumination to see. Some sort of rock, or plant, several actually, thin and pale and sharp…

And he suddenly realizes he’s made a terrible mistake.

Sluggish reflexes somehow offer him enough mobility to avoid the initial bite. He already knows the anglerfish isn’t going to stop at just one, though. It’s hungry. Hungry for him.

Adrenaline and the fear of death make good motivators for a tired body. Even without looking, he knows it followed him as he swam back up. The water shifts from black to violet to crystalline blue. All of the other nearby animals scatter as the two of them tear past.

A nip at his feet makes him kick even harder. All he can think to do is keep swimming upward. Once he’s on land, he’s sure to be safe. Just get out. Get up.

The sun warps and shifts through the last few feet of water. Yet still it shines temptingly bright, and a final burst of panic sends him kicking until his head bursts though the surface. As soon as he leaves the water, everything is painfully dry.

His tongue is plastered to the back of his teeth. Trying to breathe makes him gag. He’d cough on it, if not for the fact that he’s sure his lungs have melted. They don’t feel right. Nothing does. He grasps for clarity, something tangible, but everything squishes with the slightest bit of pressure. With nothing to anchor onto, he floats in a half-coherent daze.

Amidst the fuzziness and nauseating sway, he has an oddly lucid thought that manages to stick for more than a second. The ridge of something hard and plastic sits oddly against the bridge of his nose, to the point that it leaves an aggravating sting on the spot.

All he can think about is moving it, at least to a better position. The fingers of his right hand twitch.

Sloped darkness brushes by, its beak twinkling. “I wish I had better news.”

Are they talking to him? If they are, then he has no idea what they expected of him. He couldn’t recall asking them any questions to answer.

“I don’t want to hear excuses.” Another voice, much sharper. Strangely nostalgic.

The shininess moves in an arc. “No matter what I address, a new issue comes forth. With every wound stitched shut, a new leak appears. I keep attempting to drain blood from the abdominal cavity, but more replaces it as soon as I do. He’s going to run out soon.”

“So what?! Just get more!”

“Well, I can’t imagine either of us will be of much use. Yours is incompatible, and mine is old and polluted.”

Something shockingly red darts across his vision. The space beneath him vibrates as it’s struck.

“Fine. Fuck, I- I’ll get more. Don’t ask from where. I’ll get more. You just make sure he’s stable…”

The world goes quiet. Despite their harshness, he quickly misses the voices. It was all he had to focus on. Without them, all he can find are a myriad of sensory snippets that leave as soon as they come. A pressure on his chest. A faint hum. A single drop of wet saliva trickling down the back of his throat. Even the sting against his face muddles into the fog. The pain is missed dearly.

The shine twinkles in the distance once more. He can swear his heart skips a beat, and then gets stuck that way.

“Please try not to forget that I am in no regard a medical expert.” The voice says. “I have no certification of any kind.”

“You have two millennia of practical experience…it’s the best I’m gonna get.”

“My, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Fuck off. I’ll thank you when you finish your goddamn job.”

It doesn’t matter what it is that they’re saying. He’s just so happy to not be alone. So happy, he immediately chokes on his own joyful tears.

The two turn to the sound. “Ah. It appears he’s resurfaced again.”

“What the- that wasn’t enough?” The red smear lunges at his face, and he can’t even muster up the energy to wince. “Down-”

A man sits in the center of the earth. At least, he thinks that’s where he is. The pressure is almost suffocating, heavy against his body in a way unlike anything else. All he can do is sit there, curled up in himself, nothing but pitch black on all sides. Impossibly tired, unable to sleep.

A restless leg tries to unfold, but settles not even halfway. Even where it appears to be air, it’s too thick and dense to move much, if at all. Molten metal. Amniotic fluid. Maybe this is the place he will be born from. The space is just too small to fit because he isn’t meant to stay much longer.

He unfurls his hands. A little twinkle of red light sits in his palm. Something about the sight of it makes him feel warmer. As he watches, it starts to dance. It twirls around in his hand. It springs free and circles his head before settling down again.

It sings, stay with me. Sit with me here, in the comforting darkness. Isn’t it nice?

The thought is tempting, but he hesitates. Doesn’t he have to go? Isn’t there somewhere else to be?

What’s the rush? It’s nice in here. We can wait.

He watches the light twirl around a few of his fingers. It’s going to leave, isn’t it? They both are. They have to. If it leaves him behind, there will be nothing but himself and the darkness.

I’ll sit with you. We can wait together. You won’t be alone.

Can he trust it? He isn’t sure. He isn’t sure of most things. But its voice is soothing, and as it speaks, he finds the all-consuming pressure becoming more of a soothing comfort than an oppressive force.

Sleep. I will watch over you. Sleep.

Maybe…maybe he can wait a little longer.

A man curls in on himself, resting his head against his knees. His eyes fall shut, and he allows himself to slip into the comfortable emptiness of a dream.

Chapter Text

There was a room for it now. All of this was just supposed to have been a single, solitary accident, just a moment of weakness, and there was a room for it now.

Just a room, part of her tried to reassure the rest. Not an entire fake house with fake furniture floating through the void, just a room. A shame inaccessible to anyone but herself. Even the guests she brought didn’t know it existed. I-no was a woman with more than a few dirty little secrets, and yet this one evoked a deep sense of shame incomparable to the rest of them.

To an outsider’s glance, there was nothing particularly odd. Well, aside from it being nestled into a private corner of the Backyard. But such an exotic locale hardly fit the rest of it. A few coats of baby-blue wall paint, a heap of mismatched throw rugs, a table set with four wooden chairs, and some cabinets for storage. All painfully mundane. An average mid-tier playroom for children.

In her mind, she called it a dollhouse. That seemed fitting for it. It was a place for playthings to be used.

Initially, she’d rationalized it to herself as a necessity. When given the time to be careful, cautious, and unassuming, she could get away with taking a stupefied Raven or Jack-O out someplace relatively normal. They loved splashing around in ponds, plastering their faces against store display windows, going for walks and chasing alley cats. Subtlety wasn’t their strong suit, though, and it was worse if she had both of them out at the same time. If someone recognized her and made a fuss, her little personal hobby was going to cause a lot of trouble. Still, she very well couldn’t keep them anywhere near That Man. So she needed a third place, secluded and secure, but still entertaining for her dumb little dolls to use.

Most of the time, I-no was content to watch. The two were like puppies, swatting at each other and playing chase with all the poise and coordination of scoundrel teenagers swiping from daddy’s booze cabinet for the first time. Seeing Raven of all people stumble around and giggle over every stupid thing was something that had never gotten old. Jack-O adored playing with him. She’d hang off of his shoulders and demand piggyback rides, something he was typically happy to oblige with, though it wouldn’t be long before he lost his coordination and they both tumbled onto the floor. Jack-O had taken to calling him ‘Birdy.’

Something about the room had felt just too big. I-no had wondered why. She was the one who made it, why had she not made it perfectly? Moreover, why did she not immediately rectify the issue as soon as she noticed it? It was her own little pocket world. Why had it felt necessary?

With time, the question answered itself.

She’d started bringing a third in recently. Another something that was supposed to have just been a one-time incident, a moment of weakness, nothing more. Her beautiful blonde time traveler. I-no didn’t even have to try and seek him out. It didn’t matter where or when he was, there was always something in the back of her mind that pointed in his direction. And with how often he found her despite her attempts at solitude, she was getting the impression he was the same. A pair of broken compasses, only able to point towards each other.

She wondered if on some subconscious level, Axl knew. He must have noticed something. Even if it was just waking up after the fact in his shitty motel room feeling better then he should have. He’s never asked her outright, but if he did, she’d have feigned innocence, accusing him of projecting some weird wet dream onto her.

Projecting. I-no had always been so good at that. Perhaps, she wondered, if that was why she enjoyed this so much. Her dolls’ love was unconditional, unquestioning. She never had to fear doing things incorrectly.

The others had been left behind while she went out to pick him up. Axl had stopped at a bar, like he always did. Hopefully this new side hobby would at least do something for his poor abused liver. A healthier bit of fun.

He was tipsy by the time she got to him. Too unfocused to notice the shocking red of her outfit until she was practically sitting in his lap. Immediately trailed after her like a lovestruck puppy, too drunk to recognize her, but still clear enough to recognize a flirt.

I-no led him out behind the building. Mercifully, the night was breezy enough that it carried away the stink of the bar’s dumpster. With no hesitation, Axl allowed her to mash their faces together in an admittedly shit attempt at a makeout session. He was too drunk to do a good job, and she couldn’t put in enough effort to feign passion when she knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere.

At least a drunk man didn’t require an award-winning performance to be convinced. All he required was a sultry look and promises of a good time. Both were things she was happy to give.

“Let’s get wild. Let’s get real fucking wild.”

“Wuh- wh’ever y’ say, doll-face. Hehehe…”

With enough experience under her belt, she was well-versed in the structures of his mind. Now, she could shut down the higher functions as easily as one would pull the bedroom curtains down to block off the windows. He dropped into her arms like a sack of bricks. The sudden shift was enough to make her laugh, fumbling with his dead weight while she tried to rein in her snickering.

“Easy, tiger, I know you’re excited. We’ll get there in a sec, just be patient.”

There was still just enough awareness left over for him to grab at her arms for stability. I-no guided his hands until they wrapped around her neck. She handled the rest. One arm propped up his weight from underneath, legs seated around her hips, and the other kept him steady and pressed against the secure stability of her chest. His head came to rest right by her collarbone, nose pressed into the little divot just below the throat.

In any other scenario, it would have been sexy, but the way he dozed against her without a care in the world made it too charming to be arousing. All she could think to do was brush her fingers against the small of his back and mutter words of warmth against his temple.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s have some fun.”

Axl was too out of it to react when she dropped the both of them off in the dollhouse. If he wasn’t going to cause her any trouble, that meant she was able to put her attention towards something else.

“Honey! Were you good while I was gone?”

“Ah! Miss is back! Miss is back!!” Jack-O ran up to her, looking a wagging tail shy of a loyal retriever.

I-no smiled at her warmly. “Sounds like you missed me, huh?”

“Of course Honey missed Miss! Duh! Honey gets sad when Miss leaves!”

The girl ran around her legs. “Where’s the present? Where’s the surprise?” It took her several moments to realize that I-no was carrying an entire other person with her. “Miiiiss, you promised! You promised you had a surprise!” She pouted, dramatically crossing her arms. “Blondie isn’t a surprise, Honey already knows him!

“Pfft. He’s not the surprise, Blondie is just another playmate that Miss brought for you. But you have to be nice to him, okay? You won’t get your surprise if you can’t play nice with everyone.”

“Hmm…” I-no watched her scrutinize the man with a comical level of seriousness. “I gueeeess. Honey can share if Miss asks her all niceys!”

“Good girl.” I-no ruffled her hair. Jack-O gave a squeak of delight. “Now go do Miss a favor and get Birdy, alright? Go make sure he hasn't gotten his hand stuck in the machine again.”

“Okaaaay! Buh-bye Blondie!” The girl stood on her tiptoes to plant a wet, awkward kiss at the top of his head before running off. Axl shuddered at the sensation, burrowing further into his carrier’s neck.

Perhaps it was some quirk of brain chemistry, but he never got the same levels of energy that Raven and Jack-O got. It had been enough times that she couldn’t pass it off on weird luck anymore. Getting put under made Axl slow down and doze off, cuddling the nearest warm thing he had within reach- usually her.

It intrigued her. There wasn’t much overt control, not initially. All it did was make the natural inhibitions harder to ignore. When he got the chance to do whatever his heart desired, Axl took a nap. I-no found it stupid, but in a cute sort of way.

Even when she moved the hand on his back away, he clung on for dear life. She made use of it to neaten the space. The pile of beanbags had been left out from last time, and the unopened box still sat on the counter. By the time Jack-O came back, with Raven in tow, she’d set the spot up just the way she wanted.

“Honey got Birdy!” The girl shouted. “And Birdy got snacks!”

“H’loo, ma’am,” Raven hummed in greeting, a drowsy, dopey smile on his face. One hand clutched a bucket of popcorn, and the other attempted to swipe a few kernels to eat early. Due to his sluggish movements, he repeatedly missed his mouth, and they tumbled back into the pile.

“It sounds like you’ve both been good. Which means you get a reward! Miss got you a fun toy.”

At the mere mention of it, both snapped to the most attention that they were physically capable of. Raven’s expression remained half-lidded and sleepy, but he still looked ready to climb the walls in anticipation. She could never keep them patient and waiting for very long.

She gestured to the little setup. “Go sit down. Do you see the little machine? That’s the surprise.”

Jack-O threw herself into the pile with reckless abandon, grabbing for the object. “How does Honey open it?”

“You don’t. It’s not a toy you open.”

Initially, her plan had been to put Axl down, but he simply did not want to budge. She let him stay where he was. With a sigh, I-no set them both down on a dark blue bag and tried to find a comfortable position.

Raven circled the pile, much like a cat, before finding an empty spot to fit in. He let his head rest on his arm, spilling a few pieces of popcorn. “S’ gotta be something to watch, tha’s why there’s snacks!”

“Cleverrr, well done, Birdy.” I-no patted him in approval, but took a mental note. His brain was starting to pull itself together, then there was only so much playtime left. She quickly reached over and hit a switch on the box. With the snap of her fingers, the room bent to her will and went dark.

A projection of stars and nebula beamed against the ceiling. The patterns swirled and twisted in several colors, attracting the eye as soon as it began turning.

Her dolls immediately broke out into cries of delight. Jack-O followed a comet with her finger. “It’s so pretty! It’s so pretty! The colors look just like Miss’ pretty eyes!”

“Whee…” The other’s response was much more reserved but he stared up with giant, shimmery eyes as he took in the sights. A few pieces of popcorn finally fell in his mouth as he continued to mash against his own face.

“Miss thought she’d be nice and got something special for her sweet little dollies.” Smiling fondly, she stroked Axl’s back through his jacket. “Because she loves them.”

“Honey loves Miss, too!”

“Puppets. Puhhhhpets,” Raven held up his hands to make a slightly mangled shadow puppet of a snail.

Jack-O giggled, reaching across I-no and her luggage to grab at her companion’s wrist. “Woah, Birdy’s got big hands!” She spread his out and pressed her littler one against it, marveling at the discrepancy. “Really big!”

“Tch. Y’know what they say about big hands…”

Everyone turned to look at her, and I-no had several moments of awkward silence until she realized that was a question that nobody present was familiar with. And that put her in a second, more awkward scenario where she had to decide whether or not she wanted to explain what a sexual innuendo to these two. The hesitation was only made stranger at the realization that on regular instances, one of them never dressed very modestly, anyway, and the other was sexually active enough that he probably looked at the Kama Sutra and brushed it off as an introductory guidebook.

Thankfully, the matter was solved for her. Jack-O snapped to attention, sitting up straight and eyes wide like she’d had the revelation of the century.

“Better for holding!!”

It took all of her willpower to avoid laughing. Even then, she had to wheeze to keep it in. “R-right, that’s right. Good job.”

“Ha-ha!! Honey gets a gold star!”

“But less loud. Indoor voices, nice and quiet.”

They automatically did as ordered, falling silent. They quickly grew enraptured with the projector again. A faint giggling passed between them, the sort that bubbled up in the late hours when a too-tired mind inexplicably found everything hilarious. It was a good sound. Happiness in a pure form.

I-no felt weight shift against her. It seemed the sound or her stifled, jerky wheezing or both was enough to stir Axl from his stupor. He lifted his head from her chest, head swinging back and forth slowly. She noticed how the swirling patterns on the wall were catching his attention.

“Whazzit? Somethin’ wrong?”

She kissed him between the eyes. “Nothing, darling. Just look at the pretty stars and go back to sleep.”

Chapter Text

In a small, unremarkable town of provincial Italy, a small bakery opened itself for patronage at dawn. It had been a fairly average day, marked with patches of traffic, but not a constant crowd. The owner mentally prepared himself for a shift of work mostly consisting of maintenance and keeping the building organized, moreso than making sales.

Amidst his third re-polishing of the glass shelves, the bell above the door jingled to announce a new arrival. A duo of strange individuals entered the shop. At the mere sight of them, the owner paused his work to look on.

One bore a passing resemblance to the local pastor. His sternly serene demeanor and clerical collar made it clear he was a man of worship, without a word being said. The rest of his attire was somewhat strange. Loose, breezy robes in shades of red and white, and a strange…eyepatch, his could only guess, covered in feathers. Despite the cloudless day, his pale features somehow remained unreddened, ever-perfectly poised. But his well-kept appearance was only marred by raggedy white hair, unkempt to the point where it was nearly impossible to have done unintentionally. But still, fundamentally, a rather ordinary adult man.

The other bore most of the oddities between the two. A man with oddly-hued skin, powder-blue, almost akin to a frostbitten corpse. His movements were not dissimilar, slightly jerky and stiff, as though too cold to move about smoothly. Though he was certainly not underclothed. If anything, the formalwear was very ill-fitting for the current summer heat.

“Good morning,” the pale man greeted the owner in well-enunciated, but still notably accented Italian. “We would like to make purchase of your confectioneries. What do you recommend?”

Thoroughly puzzled, but unwilling to chase away a customer, the man went down his row of display cabinets, explaining the various plates of treats within. Frequently he would glance up to gauge his potential customers’ interest. The pale one remained closely attentive, a hand on his chin and eyes squinted as though it were a matter of grave seriousness.

His companion thoroughly lacked focus altogether. His eyes barely went anywhere near the food at all. Something had to be bothering him, given the constant squirming. Were it not for the fact that they seemed the same age, he would have assumed the pale man was a father taking his rambunctious son on an errand.

As the owner came to the end of his wares, he grasped his hands together and looked at his guests expectantly. The pale man was patiently analyzing everything. It compensated for the fact that his companion could hardly keep his eyes on any one thing for more than a moment.

“It’s quite an impressive collection of work. I haven’t seen torrone made so masterfully in quite some time.” The pale man spoke. “Hmm. But the cassata looks quite nice as well. Harley, what do you think?”

The blue one blinked, slow and stilted. “It’s- ….” He started, then immediately trailed off. There was a startled look to his features, like he hadn’t anticipated being spoken to. He floundered in indecisiveness, mouth shaping sounds that didn’t come out.

His companion slowly tilted his head. “Words, Harley.”

The other jerked to attention, only to slump again. “Niiiice. Real nice.”

The reply didn’t seem to satisfy him. The owner suddenly felt as though he’d been thrust into some kind of ongoing personal argument that he would have rather not been privy to. He contemplated ordering the two strangers out of his shop and to take their personal squabbles elsewhere, but something about the aura radiating off of them that made him too uneasy to speak up.

“I see.” The pale man said, after many painful moments of silence. “But that isn’t particularly helpful. I’m trying to decide what to get.”

“Oh. Master- ”

The other man immediately glared.

“M-mister Ewan, don’t you enjoy pastry cream? I recall you mentioning a fondness for it.”

That finally appeared to satisfy his questions. “Hmm. A valid point. Alright, I suppose there’s never anything wrong with a classic.”

Having been so long since they’d made eye contact, the owner found himself flinching when the pale man looked up at him again. “I believe we are prepared to order. My associate and I would like to buy a half-dozen of your sfogliatella.”

He was all too happy to box up the pastry, cash the two out at the register, and send this pair of freaks on their way, hopefully to never see again.

In his distracted state, he entirely missed as the two dissipated into thin air on his front stoop. It was probably for the best.

-

Once the sunlit town was replaced by the comfort of cold metal, E1’s expression softened slightly. He placed the pastry box on a nearby table and steepled his fingers.

“The testing period has now concluded, Chaos. I am now proceeding to your evaluation. In the meantime, you may remove your attire as you wish.”

“Fiiiiinally~” The blue-skinned man casually tore his formal top to shreds, leaving it a mess of tatters on the floor. E1 only sent him a look of annoyed dismay before going back to his floating projections. He had installed a few monitors into the bunker walls over the past couple of months, but they lacked the portability of magic.

He watched Chaos wrestle with his dress pants, half-shedding them before getting stuck. The way the man squirmed on the floor and kicked to try and escape was like a cat entangled in yarn. Endearing, in a way, but a touch pathetic.

A sigh of dismay escaped the clone. “At least we aren’t grading you based on motor skills. Anyway, in comparing your performance to the prediscussed rubric…” E1 slid a few numbers across the board. “Your total score for this outing comes out to a rousing sixty-three overall.”

Chaos gave a few final, stubborn kicks to shake off the last pant leg. He stood up and dusted himself off. “Heh, better than I thought!”

Another sigh. “We’ve gone over this rubric how many times now? Sixty-three is a failing grade. You failed. Again.”

Despite that, and despite the man’s scowl, Chaos only appeared delighted. “Bummer. I tried really hard!”

“Though lying won’t reduce your score from this outing, don’t assume I won’t still punish you for it.”

“Right, right. Punishment, always something up those stupid baggy sleeves of yours.” Chaos’ smile grew. “Are you going to torture me? Electrocute my brain until the neurons fry? Are you going to slowly peel my skin off, layer by layer?” He asked, shuddering with delight.

“No.” E1 replied. “Because you’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s not much of a punishment if you enjoy it.”

“Aww, but E1-”

A backhanded slap, nearly enough to knock him to the floor, cut off anything else the man intended to say.

“Remember your place” The clone’s single eye had gone icy.

“...My sincerest apologies, master.”

E1 took a deep breath, regaining a bit of calm. One hand gestured to a nearby chair. “Sit. Make yourself comfortable. We can discuss the next steps in your educational plan- as well as your punishment- once I’m certain you’re paying attention.”

Chaos wasn’t sure if he had seen that before. The bunker wasn’t huge, but E1 was the only one with permission to go into the storage room and move things around. Happy wouldn’t put it past him to drag a chair out and lecture him like a rowdy schoolboy, specifically to make a point of humiliating him.

…and damn it if that wasn’t a complete turn-on.

He made a point of sitting down with flourish, coyly placing his hands in his lap. “Well golly gee, teach! I musta’ messed up real bad to get sent to detention! Are you gonna tell my mommy? I don’t wanna get grounded, too!”

”Chaos.” E1 hissed, a faint scarlet tinge crossing his cheeks. “Stop this. Behave yourself.”

“You can’t make me~” he teased back. Pearly teeth glimmered in a wicked grin, and Chaos placed both hands on the armrests in order to lean forward and taunt the man more. “And you make it hard not to when you still blush like a virgin every single-”

A sudden force threw him back in his seat. At first, he had assumed E1 slapped him a second time, but there was no sting on his cheek. When he looked down, he instead found a set of mechanical shackles latching around his wrists and ankles, pinning him to the chair.

“Wha-” Chaos winced in the restraints, looking up with surprise in his eyes. “Damn, can’t imagine something like this was just sitting around, when’d you manage to whip this thing up?”

He went ignored. E1 approached the side of the apparatus and adjusted a few knobs. “Based on your prior behavior, a more structured form of punishment suggests a better outcome. I can’t simply slap you around or bend you over my knee whenever you cause me aggravation, it’s too disorderly.”

Chaos had noticed a few of the mechanical components, but willingly chose to stay silent. “Aww, but I liked it when you did that!”

“Exactly. As I said, it isn’t much of a punishment if you enjoy it.” Another set of latches restrained the blue man’s waist. “I can take an opportunity to further my study on you while also issuing discipline. A much more streamlined method, if I do say so myself.”

Though he wanted to answer with another quip, Chaos was starting to get a better understanding of the situation he was in. He’d messed up at the man’s little normalcy roleplays before, but whenever he thought he’d seen all E1 had to offer, something new and bizarre was thrown onto the table.

He wheezed as the belts briefly tightened. “So what’re these about, then? Think I won’t sit still for your little play tests?”

“I’ve been around you long enough, I know you won’t.”

Something underneath him shifted. He scooted in place, with what little range of motion the chair offered him. Wherever this was going, he wasn’t sure if he liked it. But he also knew he wasn’t getting a choice in the matter.

E1 made a few final adjustments. He paced in front of his captive, neatening the messy, shaggy bangs that tangled into the feathers of his eyepatch. “I need to do a deeper analysis on your internal anatomy. It’s important to be sure whether or not you have the same internal structures of an ordinary human, or if those were modified in some way due to the Backyard.”

What Chaos had assumed was the chair tilting forward instead started to feel like a strange pressure against his backside. As soon as the thought struck him, something else did. Having stripped himself naked already, there was nothing to protect him from a blunt, rounded object that began nudging between his legs until it found a hole to press against.

“Wh- hey, that isn’t- ack!” He yelped, feeling the object force itself further against his asshole until the end began to sink inside, uncaring of any sort of prep or careful stretching. “Hey, hey, careful, dammit! You’re gonna rip something going this fast!”

“You will be fine. I’ve seen your healing abilities firsthand. And besides,” the clone’s gaze turned chilly once more “if you were so concerned, you would have behaved better.”

Credit where credit was due, the guy wasn’t as soft as Asuka. Chaos had made that mistake before, and E1 had been happy to wring that assumption for all it was worth. The echoes of sore welts across his backside and long, intentional stretches of edging while he couldn’t move were still vibrant in his mind.

It was difficult to complain for long. There was a burning ache in his hole that quickly inched deeper and deeper, but the edge of whatever was working its way through him suddenly struck a spot that had the man throwing his head back and seeing stars.

“Shiiiiiit- !”

E1 wrote something down. “I see. So you do still possess at least some of the proper reproductive glands. Curious.”

The object retracted slightly, only to batter the same spot. Chaos barked out another slurred expletive and bucked against the restraints. But the metal did its job. It bit into his forearms and ankles, holding him in place while the machine retracted yet again to hit the same spot inside of him, wrenching out a sound that sounded far more like a moan.

“You never cease to disappoint me. The ‘Father of Magic,’ one would assume you possessed some form of dignity, and yet here you are, so gleefully debasing yourself.”

“S-shut up, you’re the damn- ngh- you’re the damn pervert that thought this whole thing up!”

“I am only a man of science. Any physical reactions are incidental, and in fact detrimental to my research. On that note…”

Chaos tried to keep an eye on what the other was doing, but it was difficult to do that with something shoved up his ass. He soon found E1 kneeling in front of him, with something black between his fingers. He took Chaos’ cock in one hand and calmly rolled the object down over the head and down the shaft until it sat snugly against the base.

“There. This should help keep you from getting distracted.”

It left a sense of tightness that Chaos wouldn’t deny was turning him on even more, but that was a moot point when he noted it was meant to keep him from getting any harder.

“What the shit, I can’t even get off on it a little bit while you’re ramming my damn prostate?”

“Of course not. I don’t permit you to derive any enjoyment from this.”

Goddamn bastard. He hated that Asuka’s little bootleg enjoyed trying to torment him like this, and he hated even more than it worked every time. After all, he’d been the one to willingly sit in the chair, hadn’t he?

Cock ring or not, having a mechanical something-or-other milk his prostate still felt really, really good. Chaos had to struggle to get his words out. Though the chair restraints only allowed him the slightest bit of movement, he used all of it to try and push back against the intrusion, willing it deeper.

He didn’t notice the clone was up to any more troublemaking until hands fell on him once more. A heavy weight settled upon his head.

“Now what’re you- ?”

“Reinforcement.” Replied E1. He flipped a few switches and dials on the new device. A pair of tinted lenses flipped down from the brim, turning the other man’s vision dark.

“What the hell do you think you’re…oh…ohhhh…”

He’d grown familiar with the feeling of E1’s ‘adjustment’ coming to life and oozing sweet, sweet chemicals into his gray matter. Any tension in his limbs immediately went boneless, only jerking with the force of a thrust from underneath.

“I finished this helmet recently. I’m rather proud of it. It synchronizes with the device implanted in your brain stem and delivers the chemicals automatically. It saves me the effort and wasted time of doing it manually. If I’ve done my math correctly, it should target several key areas in your brain that will prove helpful to your rehabilitation.”

It wouldn’t do anything of use. Neither of them had to say it aloud, because they both knew, and both knew the other did as well. The only purpose was to disorient him further. It was all a farce.

A myriad of hypnotic colors swirled and pulsed in the visor’s screen. Any possible tension or resistance left in Chaos’ body was promptly buried under the combination of physical and psychological pleasure.

“M-maaaaster…” He managed to slur, all but melting against the chair frame. “Feels…good…”

“Mmm. Promising. I wonder if tiring you out will make you more agreeable. Perhaps if I leave you like this for…say, four hours or so, it will offer some improvement.”

The other only moaned. With a look of smug satisfaction as he admired his handiwork, E1 helped himself to an abandoned sfogliatella, found a place to sit, and began to part his robes.

Chapter Text

Sin had found a cozy place to sulk atop a drawbridge tower. The thought had crossed his mind that this had to be private property, but he couldn’t find it in him to give a shit right now. He hoped whatever owner or nightguard or whatever didn’t find him. With the sour mood he was in, restraining himself would be much more of a challenge than usual, if he even bothered at all.

Screw it. Screw everything. His stupid father, his stupid country that had no place for him in it, how everyone immediately dropped everything to worry about this problem but ignored him once more. Amazing how even though she was threatening their lives, his father cared more about Valentine than he did about him. Sin was tempted to just let her destroy everything so Ky would be miserable. He deserved it.

Something shuffled against the cobbles on the streets below. Reluctantly curious, Sin scooted over to the bannister and peered over to get a good look. He found a group of annoyingly familiar gas-masked girls passing by in loose formation. More of Valentine’s foot soldiers? Of course they’d already started seeping in here, too.

Ohhh, Ky was going to hate that. Just on principle, Sin almost wanted to let them go. But, then again, knocking around some worthless dummies could have made for very nice stress relief…

Static gathered in one hand, quickly condensing into something much stronger and deadlier. Snipe from a distance, or jump right in and start swinging? What a difficult pick to-

His heart nearly stopped at the feeling of something grabbing his arm from behind.

“Little shit, there you are!”

Sin jerked away from his guardian’s grip, attempting the best glower he was capable of. “Leave me alone. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Don’t play around with me.” Snorted Sol. “You were gonna throw yourself headlong into those puppets of Valentine’s, weren’t you?”

He didn’t reply, only looking away. “You’re not in charge. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Unfortunately, you’re talking to the guy who can right now.” The man huffed, raking a hand through his hair. “Damn it, kid, I know making stupid decisions isn’t anything new for you, but you gotta know when to rein that shit in sometimes.”

“S-shut up. Look, and now they’re gonna get away-”

“It doesn’t matter how tough you think you are, we’ve seen what those things can do. Running headfirst into an army is a terrific way to get yourself killed fast.”

Sin said nothing, merely continuing to glare into the distance. His guardian huffed in frustration. “Look. Let’s just head back to the castle and get this done with as fast as we can. Sooner we finish, sooner we can leave, and ya don’t have to talk to your dad anymore.”

“...Fine. I’ll go. But only for mama, not for him.”

“Good.” Sol finally released his grip. “Now let’s get back and talk to the bird. Hopefully he’s found something while you were off throwing a tantrum.”

Sin stuffed his hands into his pockets, but reluctantly started to follow him. “Pfft. Whatever…”

------

“Sin? Sin!!”

Between the shouting and the echoing clicks of his boot heels, Ky worried if he was drowning out his son’s voice. Or worse, giving him a cue that his father was near and using it to keep running away.

Ky didn’t blame him. This had started long before Valentine and the Vizuel had even entered the picture. The fact that this was only happening now in the midst of this chaos was something he could only exist as an extension of his own mistakes. It was one in a million things he had to atone for, but he could focus more on that once he was sure his son was home and as safe as he could be.

Illyria was his kingdom, but its streets had never felt so achingly unfamiliar. Even beyond the devastation of battle, Ky struggled to find anything familiarly comforting in the city as he sprinted through. It only served to make him more and more uneasy.

The unease came to a peak as he skidded to a halt. Enough history in battle had made him attuned to when others were nearby. There was…something behind him. A presence, but not one he was familiar with. Not his son, not Sol. A hand tenuously reached for his weapon.

Sure enough, his intuition had been right. When he turned around, Ky found himself confronted with the one behind their current predicament, the dark-dressed woman with lifeless expression and a grinning balloon.

“You…”

There was an entirely different atmosphere when he was facing her alone. He regretted not bringing along at least a knight or two. Perhaps it would not have done much to bolster their collective safety, but there was a sense of security in not fighting an enemy alone, especially one so mysterious and unknown. When faced alone, Ky found himself surprised at her small frame. Though an unnerving aura of power radiated off of her, in the flesh, she only had the figure of a young girl. Despite all that had happened thanks to her, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pity at the sight.

Her head slowly tilted to the side. Her neck made a ticking sound with the motion, like turning cogs under the skin. “Oh. It’s you. Someone found a way to undo my seal?”

Ky risked a step closer, keeping his wits about him, ready to leap into a fight the moment things went sour. “So you are the one called Valentine? Those women are your troops?”

The question went unanswered, but he supposed it was of no consequence when he already figured the answer. “What a disappointment. You were meant to be indisposed until the Key could be acquired. Mother will be displeased with this.”

Valentine’s words made little sense to him. Would trying to strike suddenly while she was talking give him some leverage? The thought crossed his mind, but Ky couldn’t bring himself to, regardless if it would have helped or not. Though he knew of the destruction she had caused and threat she posed, he couldn’t, in good faith, write this off as a lost cause and blindly wage battle. His heart still had softness on it. Still had mercy.

He extended a hand out toward his enemy. “I don’t wish to believe that there is inherent evil in anything. Please, I implore you to put down your arms and allow a civil conversation between our parties. If you cease your attack, I am fully willing to discuss this with you and try to find a solution that doesn’t involve such violence.”

She said nothing, merely hovering and staring back. That…that was promising, wasn’t it? As long as she wasn’t launching into an attack, he could try and reason with her.

“I’m sure you are as rational a being as I am. You would want to minimize your casualties. You are a general, of course you care for the lives of your soldiers?”

“No.” She replied with an unnerving degree of frankness. “Their purpose is to obey the orders given to them. If a unit fails to successfully carry out its task, then it has forfeited the right to live.”

Ky felt a coldness spread through him. He was attempting delegation with someone that lacked any value for life. Trying to appeal to morality would be a far more difficult task that he had anticipated, if it were even possible at all.

“I…I see…”

He would need to find a new method of approach, then. Something that had nothing to live for had no reason to choose a third option against victory or dying trying. But he’d made it through situations more grim than this. An answer would present himself, he just needed to think things over until it arrived.

As he thought in silence, she hovered closer. Ky took a step back, trying to keep his discomfort from showing. “What are you doing?”

The girl blinked, slowly, and he could swear her lids gently clicked like camera shutters. “...You’re pretty.”

“Thank…you…?” Far be it from him to refuse a compliment, but Valentine didn’t seem the type. Of the few things he’d gathered from her, she was stoic and unemotional, not expressing her opinions on anything, if at all. Though he’d thought seeing a more human trait like that in something so cold and distant would make her feel less threatening, Ky found himself feeling quite the opposite. She had never appeared more unnerving.

“The boy is pretty. I see where it came from. He has his father’s eyes,” she said. Ky suddenly realized how uncomfortably close she had gotten. He could swear there was an audible ticking coming from underneath her skin. “There is…something peculiar about you, human. I don’t feel quite right calling you that. What are you?”

“I’m- I’m human, nothing more. You must be mistaken.” Trying to back away did little, as she merely bridged the gap again and again. At the rate he was going, it wouldn’t be long before he blindly hit a wall or fell into a waterway.

Ky knew a situation like this called for a tactical retreat. Turn away from the enemy, flee, and do your best to avoid being shot in the back until returning to a safe zone to regroup. There were some battles that simply couldn’t be won. Acknowledging that was not weakness or cowardice, it was being practical. But in spite of knowing that well, he found himself unable to take his eyes off of her, though he had no idea why. He simply…couldn’t. It was as though his eyes had been magnetized to hers through some unknown means, and diverting away from that took a power that he lacked.

What…what was happening?

“I watched you,” she said. “While you were sleeping. I watched you.”

He didn’t know how to react. He probably couldn’t have done anything, even if he wanted to. Something about her blank, artificial gaze had paralyzed him. This sort of powerlessness wasn’t something he’s felt in a long time. Ky hadn’t felt this uncertain and frozen and helpless since the Crusades all those years ago, when he had been a mere boy looking up into the eyes of Justice.

From deep within himself, Ky found a remaining spark of resistance. He clung to it tightly. Wrung it for all he could. Fingers twitched at his side.

’My sword- !’

The moment he moved, Valentine lashed out to interrupt. She grabbed his wrist, nails digging into his papery skin. Her hands were thin and delicate, yet held with a grip unlike anything he had experienced before. The end of her index finger bit into the base of his palm. A bead of blood welled up in the tiny puncture.

Both flinched on instinct, like something had impaled them at the same time. Strange, misty light pulsed under the skin where their hands made contact.

“What- “ Ky managed to speak, the sudden sensation of paralysis gone in an instant. “What is that…?”

Valentine dropped his hand, too preoccupied with looking at the residual glow of her own. “...Just a smidge,” she murmured to herself. “A tiny little scraping…could a Key be forged from this alone? Hmm…”

Ky wanted to ask what she meant by that, but found himself interrupted by a peculiar sensation that wrenched out a full-body shudder.

Warning! Master under attack!

Some kind of bone-deep wound, a tooth whose rot permeated beyond the surface and deep into the branching roots below. But it existed within a sixth sense that he was physically incapable of comprehending. His soul had not been carefully parsed open yet as his rival’s had, leaving the man only with a faint sense of discomfort that existed in a medium beyond description.

He was unable to even understand how a faint nick had been left on the strings of data that comprised his mortal soul, his very existence. Exposed to the alien atmosphere around it, something dark seeped into the wound. A pinprick of dread welled up among the sludge, knowing that it was already doomed. Its fate had already been sealed the moment he had crossed her path.

New update file available! Would you like to download and install?

“Wh- wha-...?” Ky blinked slowly, putting a hand to his temple. “What did you…?”

“Goodbye.”

Through his suddenly spotty vision, he watched Valentine hover away. “Where- where are you going?!”

Initializing download

Something was happening to him, and though he didn’t know what it was, he was certain it was very bad. He sprinted after Valentine in a panic. If she had been the one to do it, that meant she would be able to undo it.

“W-wait! Come back here!”

Downloading file. Please wait…

Download status: 2% completion.

Ky didn’t understand why he was suddenly so off-kilter. In trying to run, he quickly stumbled over his own feet. Valentine remained unfazed, moving further and further away.

Download status: 10% completion

Error! Virus detection has identified a potentially harmful string in system. Would you like to abort the download currently in progress?

“Valentine! Get back here!”

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. But it was something he couldn’t do anything about.

All he could do was beg.

Internal error! Virus detection has been disabled!

Internal error! Virus defense systems have been disabled!

Ky flinched as though he’d been struck. Flashes of color seared the back of his eyelids every time he blinked, but none of it meant anything. That alone was the most unsettling aspect. It was an experience he couldn’t understand. He could steel himself from physical torture, brace his mind as best he could against psychological warfare, but this was neither.

Continuing download. Download status: 25%

Had this been her plan all along? For something so cold, he would have anticipated she would remain efficient even in executing her opponents. Was it supposed to be? Was he fighting it off through sheer will until the process slowed to a miserable crawl?

Download status: 47%

It felt…the sensation was difficult to describe. Like his physical essence was being cored out, surgically excised, but without a finger being laid on his body. Something was being torn away, but he couldn’t find the place it was torn from.

Sol. Paradigm. The strange fox man. Anybody. There had to be someone that could help him…wasn’t there?

“Oh, God almighty.” Ky whispered as he stumbled through the streets. “Help me, please, someone help me!”

Download status: 59%

The first instinct that came was to find someplace cramped and squeeze himself into it. It didn’t matter how small- in fact, the smaller, the better. He needed to compress his body in order to hold onto himself, keep parts of him from slipping out of synch and being misplaced. Arms wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to hold himself together. Ky jerked his head back and forth in a desperate attempt to find a crevice between buildings, a crate, a jar, something that could be used to keep all of him confined. Safe. Secure.

Whatever remained of his conscious, higher thoughts knew full well that it wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Download status: 71%

He clawed at his head, nails drawing crescent-shaped wounds through the skin. The thought had crossed his mind to draw his sword and plunge it through his own chest to stop this, to end his suffering, to end whatever was happening to him. But his sword was someplace he couldn’t reach- how was that possible? It was supposed to be right by his side! Instead, he grabbed at nothing.

Ky Kiske continued to unravel.

“Get out! Get out!!” He wailed to the empty cobblestone. “Get out of me!! Get out of my head!!”

Download status: 85%

Focus. Focus. The word pulsed in his brain like a mantra. He just had to hold onto whatever he could. Take whatever he could as a ground. The ache in his bones. The sting of his bitten lower lip. The trickle of blood flowing down his temple.

It all came second to the dread. Dark fear rolling in waves at his ankles, seeping higher with every passing second. He didn’t want to know what happened when it touched the raw wounds being scraped into his soul.

He didn’t want to…

He didn’t want…

He…he didn’t…

Download status: 99%

Download complete!

Ky went still. Arms fell to his sides like the marionette strings holding them had been sliced. A brainless, glassy stare aimed vacantly at the ground, seeing nothing, understanding nothing.

Installing file

Overriding present program

A leg twitched. His head jerked to the side. Neither an intentional motion, just gravity settling as something crawled into an empty skin.

Major error! All primary system files corrupted!

…

New files installed successfully.

The man clicked back into perfect posture, as though nothing had happened whatsoever.

“An unfortunate delay.” He stiffly turned to a clocktower that peeked over the rooftops. “I’m nearly going to be late.”

A web of dark blue veins had spidered along his pale wrist. Ky merely scratched the spot and moved on. He had no time for such trivialities. There was important work to do.

------

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

Paradigm looked up at the man with unfettered disappointment. “I felt my statement was perfectly understandable, even to simpler intellects. The king set out not moments after your departure, I had assumed you two encountered one another while setting out.”

“Tch. Of course he had to make everything worse. Again.” Sin scoffed.

Izuna waved his hands. “Hey, hey, he went out looking for you, kiddo! Dontcha think it’s a little harsh getting mad at him about that?”

“No!”

“Great. Just great. Went out to get one stubborn brat, and managed to lose another. At least tell me there’s some good news? Any luck finding a way to stop the sublimation?” Asked Sol.

“Unfortunately, no.” Paradigm returned the man’s scowling back to him. “Perhaps I would do better in my research with fewer interruptions getting in the way and making so much ruckus.”

Sin tightened his grip on the flagpole in his hand. “Why you- !”

The impending argument was suddenly interrupted as the ground beneath them began to shake. As the men attempted to keep their balance, they swapped startled looks.

“What the hell was that?! Is she back already?!” Sol said.

“It can’t be another sublimation already!” Cried Izuna. “...Can it?”

“Ugh, and I just got back…” Sol grabbed for his sword. “You two stay and keep working. Sin, with me.”

“You aren’t concerned about Valentine getting her hands on him?” Paradigm raised a brow.

“‘Getting hands on’...huh? What are you talking about?”

“He’ll be fine if he’s with me. There’s no time to argue! We have to go!”

Whether they agreed with his choice or not, nobody was capable of telling the man ‘no.’ Sin followed his guardian as he ran towards the source of the sound.

“It’s…in the castle?” He muttered, following the echoes of another rumble. “Shit, she’s already breached the inner walls?”

The trail of noise led the two to a distant wing of Illyria Castle. It meant that there was still distance between her and Dizzy for now, but that distance was thinning fast. They had to step in fast and push her back. Several suits of armor had already been thrown against the walls or half-crushed under rubble, leaking blood out from between the metal plates.

“O-old man…?” Sin’s voice barely reached his ear at how softly he spoke.

“Just keep going. Don’t look at them.” The man barked back. Dead bodies were nothing new to him, but something about this felt wrong. Sol couldn’t quite put it into words. There was a brutality about it that seemed different. Valentine was efficient. If he could scrounge up one kind thing to say about her, it was that she worked so fast that most of her victims likely died with little time to be afraid. Even through the armor that many of the strewn bodies still had, holes had been punctured all over, like a wild animal had tried to tear through it.

What the hell was going on?

The core of the carnage sat below a regal stairwell beneath a massive stained glass window. Mangled bodies had been thrown to and fro with reckless abandon. Sol tried to block out the noises of the dying and the sound of blood dripping into lakes on the carpet. Most of it was already drowned out by the agonized wails of the upcoming casualty currently being torn apart by…by…

He…wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. If it were Valentine standing amid a heap of corpses, that would have been entirely expected. But instead, it was the last person Sol had expected to see.

“Ky?” He asked, incredulity seeping through. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

The man planted a boot on his down opponent, using it as leverage to pull his bloodstained sword from the hole it had made in a chestplate. Once it was freed, he slowly turned to the voice. A strange blankness had come over his eyes.

“...Kneel…”

Sin was overcome with a peculiar aura that made him wince back. “K-...Ky…?”

A similar sensation struck Sol, but he pushed back against it. “Those are your own men! Have you completely lost it?!”

No reply came. Not even a flicker of stray emotion on his face. Ky lumbered towards them, the tip of his sword shrieking against the grind of metal-on-stone, not softened in the slightest by the trail of blood it left as he went.

“Kneel.”

Sol wasn’t sure he’d heard right. There was nothing wrong with his hearing, but the voice and timbre was so un-Ky-like that he had to be imagining things. “I beg your goddamn pardon?”

“I am the High King. I am the Lord of Storms.” A current of lightning crackled down the man’s arm and snaked around his weapon. “And you will kneel in my presence.”

Sol and Sin stood in stunned silence. But the same question was at the forefront of their minds right now: what the hell had happened?

The Gear tried for a different approach. “Where’s Valentine?”

Gradually, Ky’s expression shifted. He scowled at the two, though his eyes were as vacant as before. “Do you think you have the right to speak to me?” He asked. “...Very well. I will graciously allow you an audience. But do know that this is not a privilege awarded to just anyone.”

“Cut the crap, Kiske, this isn’t funny! Why would you kill your own damn soldiers?”

Once more, he wondered if his hearing was malfunctioning. Sol knew what his rival’s laughter sounded like, and it was not the crackling hiss that came out of his mouth just then. Ky looked at the piles of bodies in disgust. “Blasphemers. All of them, blasphemers.”

Sin made a sound of fear, and Sol instinctively ushered the boy behind him for safety.

“Shit, I know you’ve always been a Jesus freak, but this is taking it way too far!”

Another laugh. Something about it reminded him of a clock’s ticking. The king shook his head. “No, of course I’m not talking about that. What an idiotic observation to make. They refused to bow their heads and kneel before the true messiah: myself.”

Every time Sol felt he’d reached the depths of bafflement in this situation, he was thrown for another, more dizzying loop. “...What??”

“Do not doubt what you know to be true.” Ky spread his arms wide, something like a smile almost coming to his face. “I am the lord and savior of all that lives and breathes. Despite their deep flaws and sin, I am a loving, forgiving messiah to the undeserving masses.”

Something about Ky’s words ignited a bone-deep wrath. Hardly thinking, Sol lunged forward, unsheathing his weapon and grabbing for the buckles on his limiter.

Sin feebly extended a hand after him. “Old man, what’re you- ?!”

“‘Loving messiah,' my ass, I’m gonna knock the god complex outta ya and put some sense back into you- !”

Ky had been holding himself back in fights ever since the two had met. Part of Sol had always quietly wondered just what sort of power the little boy-scout was capable of. All he had were guesses and his imagination to try and estimate what Ky was like using his full magical prowess.

His imagination had been laughably shallow.

Gear cell regeneration was the only reason his organs didn’t boil and his eyes didn’t melt out of their sockets. The high whistling either had to be Sin screaming in horror or his eardrums exploding from the pressure. Guessing was all he could do, as the bolt of lightning overwrote every nerve impulse and replaced it with shock-stiff numbness. Sol could hardly feel himself hitting the floor from every joint locking and failing on him.

Tiny sparks of blue-white danced across his down body as Sol came back to consciousness. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so thoroughly exhausted, let alone after a single blow. He almost wanted to be impressed. Terror was close.

The immaculate edge of a regal robe fluttered into his line of sight. Mustering up what energy he could, Sol managed to tilt his head up at the man standing over him. Framed by the light streaming through the stained glass, Ky did almost look angelic. But, Sol supposed, so had Lucifer.

Those flat, murky eyes bored right through him. “My light is holy. My light is cleansing. Any pain you suffer from my purifying touch is merely the sinful filth being cast from your soul. Do not resist. It will not be long before the whole world has their trespasses cleansed from their mortal flesh.”

Shoes shuffled on the ground somewhere behind him. “O-old man…?”

Ky’s attention turned upward again. “Ah. The boy. Sit still, I will baptize you first.”

“Sin- ” Sol managed to croak. His arms twitched as he tried and failed to get back on his knees. “Get out. Run. Run!”

Though the muscles in his legs tensed to break into a sprint, Sin only inched back. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his father. The man walked past Sol’s downed body, each step becoming slightly faster until he started to dash directly at his son.

“K-…Ky?”

“There is no Ky. There is only your messiah.”

A blunt blow threw Sin back, skidding against the ground until he came to a miserable stop in an unkempt heap. Enough strength gathered in him to get back on his shaking legs, but when he looked up, his father stood over him, face expressionless and blank. Another charge crackled around him, making the edges of his robe float with static.

“Be still,” he said, raising Aquila high above his head, “and accept my loving mercy.”

Chapter Text

Bang was quite restless today. Not even his usual sort of restless, the kind that came from sitting still when he would rather be running around and working his body. It hadn’t taken long to get attuned to the man’s various little quirks and idiosyncrasies. Ultimately, Bang Shishigami was a relatively straightforward man, and there was an immense amount of charm in that.

Still, Amane had to know when to step in. “Are you alright?”

“Hnn.” His partner’s gaze was distant. With a bit of pressure, Amane was able to turn his head until they were sharing looks.

“Baby, talk to me?” He prodded as gently as he could.

The softer voice did a better job of easing out a response. “Too loud. Brain feels weird.”

Ah. That made much more sense. Seeing that bombastic, larger-than-life personality so stifled always felt like a cause for concern. If Bang wasn’t enthusiastic and energetic, he didn’t sound like himself. But it wasn’t as abnormal as most would have expected. Too much excitement fried his nerves, and some days the ability to put up with it was far lower than others. It seemed they’d just happened to get unlucky today.

So far, Amane had done most of the talking, anyway. He had wondered why, at first, but it made more sense now. It wasn’t disinterest.

“Oh, honey, why didn’t you say something sooner?” The man cooed, stroking his partner’s sideburns as a bit of silent praise for being honest. Bang had always reacted well to that sort of unspoken encouragement.

“Didn’t wanna ruin the date. T-the ‘Ninja of Love and Justice’ should be able to handle such a mundane task!”

“Some days are just…like that. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not mad, I just don’t want you to overextend yourself.”

“Shame nothing! My duty was to provide you with a fantastic afternoon date! I still have every intention to…to…”

From a nearby construction site, a jackhammer rumbled to life and clattered against concrete. Bang winced at the noise.

His partner looked at him sympathetically. “Darling, are you all done for today? Would you like to go home?”

“...Yes, please.”

“Then that’s all that needs to be said.” Replied Amane, stroking that little bit of unkempt fluff once more. “Don’t feel too torn up about this, darling. The appetizer was bland, I doubt the meal itself will be something unmissable. Ah, well, I suppose not every cafe can be a winner.”

A few bills tossed on the table paid for what they’d already eaten, and by the time the waiter came back, the two were long gone.

------

Bang already looked more like himself when they were in the security of their own home. Well, technically, only his name was on the property paperwork, but by now, Amane was practically a live-in partner. Some nights were still spent in his caravan, and he did need to return to it often to keep an eye on his troupe.

Tonight, though? Tonight belonged to them.

“I’m going to go take a shower.”

Amane didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t wait for any kind of objection. This was a well-worn pattern that practically played itself. Bang knew how this went. If he wanted to just go to bed and sleep the strange mood off, he was more than free to. They’d done it that way before. Leaving his partner alone allowed him the comfort to think without being pulled in any particular direction. Having Amane sitting right there made him worry far too much about disappointing him, no matter how many times he was told to the contrary.

Amane returned in a house robe that was hardly less showy than his usual attire. Bang still sat on the couch, not an inch from the spot he’d been left in.

“I see.” The dancer said quite simply. One hand flicked with practiced grace. From a cabinet across the room, a braid of translucent pastel scarves perked to life. They slithered through the air like an eel at sea. Each carefully draped themselves along the shoulders of the master that called them.

“Are you ready?” He asked. “Are you sure you want this right now?”

Bang swallowed. “Yes. Please, sir.”

’Sir.’ So he was pulling that out already? Oh, even when worn out, he always knew how to push Amane’s buttons in just the right way.

The dancer was happy to reciprocate. ”Kneel,” he purred, “and present yourself.”

In the comfortable structure of routine, Bang moved smoothly and calmly. His clothing was removed piece by piece as his partner watched on. He only spared the man a hint of a sly expression before falling back into tranquil silence. Everything was carefully done in order, like a practiced military drill. Pants left folded on the couch, jacket on top, greaves to the side, and scarf neatly placed on top of it all.

When the task was done, the man knelt on the floor. He extended his head up, presenting his exposed throat. Without the ever-present scarf, it made him look even more naked and vulnerable than if it had merely been his clothes gone, even if it was just a mere piece of fabric.

Well, Amane was sure to fix that fast. “Good. Well done. Now, be still. I have to reward you.”

A bit of life came back to him as the material gripped his throat. Just enough vigor to make the man seem more like himself again. Having something to focus on helped his thoughts from wandering constantly. He shuddered as it was tightened, not too constricting as to prevent breathing or blood flow, but tight enough that its presence couldn’t be ignored.

Amane belted the clasp shut and traced the curve of his partner’s throat back to front. He thumbed along the kanji that had been carved into the metal plate and riveted through the thick leather band. So calligraphic and flowery that it was practically illegible, perfectly fitting of the person that had put it there in the first place.

Uzume

Once he’s sure the collar is neither too tight nor too loose, Amane tangles his thin fingers in the dark fluff of the man’s sideburns. Bang lets his cheek rest against the opposite leg, eyes half-lidded. He’s cute like this, even cuter than usual. Amane simply can’t help himself.

“Good boy,” he coos, offering scritches to one side of his partner’s head. “Are you my good kitty?”

He gets no reply, nothing coherent, anyway. On a harsher day, he might’ve responded with a yank on the collar, a demand for a proper response, but he lets it lie this time. It was still preferable to the time Bang had responded with a full-on ‘meow,’ that had killed the mood faster than he’d thought was possible. It had taken a few attempts to work out the minutiae of it all, but that just made it all the more satisfying when things went off without a hitch.

“If you keep being good, I’ll give you another reward.” No prize for guessing what, but not like they didn’t go in knowing that. And Bang knows to do what he’s told. He obeys as his head is nudged further and further into the narrowing space between the other man’s legs. His tongue stays in his mouth, for now, but the hot puffs of breath still tickle and make the skin damp. Amane has to fight down the urge to break his stoic expression. He distracts himself with his ribbons, loosening the ends of his translucent pink tennin scarf.

It serves a dual purpose. The small tugs ease his kimono open more and more until it’s barely more than hanging off his shoulders. Freshly-freed silk and satin curl in the air like vipers threatening prey, but they merely reorient themselves to wrap around muscular arms and bind them down together. Bang hardly resists as he’s restrained, only sparing a glance or two over his shoulder.

Amane guides his face back to the front. “You know to tell me if the ribbons are too tight. You’ll tell me if it starts to hurt, won’t you?”

He responds with a mute nod. “Good. Good boy.”

It’s not inaccurate. Bang took to the whole thing with enthusiasm. Despite his blustery machismo, he delighted in taking orders. An old remnant of his military days, perhaps, or his time under Tenjo’s tutelage. Amane tried not to waste too much thought peeling apart the mindset behind it all, too freudian, too much of a mood-killer. It didn’t matter. What did matter was Bang kneeling at his feet in patient silence, awaiting his next orders.

There wasn’t much space to move around, but Amane still managed to squeeze one leg out of his tight shorts without accidentally crushing his partner’s head between his thighs. Bang never moved, only momentarily shifting his weight to help disperse it better across both of his knees. The quickening breaths against the skin of his thigh made the man’s excitement obvious, even if he said nothing.

Amane usually had civilized undergarments on under his many layers of dress, but he’d intentionally neglected to put any on after his post-shower change. Bang was careful not to touch, he hadn’t been allowed to yet, but Amane took note of how his attention immediately gravitated to the cock now not an inch from his nose. Before he could even think about doing anything cheeky, the scarves binding his arms tugged him back.

“Ah-ah-ah, not yet, kitty. You know the drill. Have to make sure you’re in the right mindset before I can let you touch it.”

Despite the soft whine of disappointment, Amane was unbothered. He chose not to focus on any puppy-dog eyes being sent in his direction. Distractions only made his spellcasting worse. It looked quite impressive when done right, but Bang had gotten quite good at breaking his composure. A troublesome kitty, indeed.

Even more scarves danced through the air, following a silent rhythm as their master commanded. Several twirled together to make a multicolor spiral. They found a place behind their master’s head, twisting like a parasol placed over his shoulder. One slender hand tilted Bang’s head up to stare directly at it- the colorful display, and the man commanding it.

It didn’t take long before Amane noticed a reaction. A bit subtle to the untrained eye, but his was far from inexperienced. A soft droop to the ridge of the brow, a faint glaze of the watcher’s gazing, the tension of a jaw minutely slackening. All the telltale symptoms of submission.

The process was a gradual one, the very tip of an ocean current slowly pulling a sailboat into the swirling core of a whirlpool. There was little more that Amane loved than watching that pull strengthen bit by bit, drawing his audience in until it swallowed them whole.

Still, he had his ways of speeding up the process a smidge. “Hello, dear. Can you hear me?”

It took several moments to get a response. Though Bang was staring directly at him, directly at the rainbow spiral, his attention was nowhere. Nothing but vague vacancy, read to be filled by directions.

“I can…hear you.”

“Good. Look at the colors. Listen to my voice. They’re both nice, aren’t they?”

“Uh-huh.” Bang muttered. “Really…nice…”

“You love them both sooo much, you’ll do anything to get more of them, won’t you?”

“I…want…want more…”

“Good. And if you keep being good, you’ll get more. Do you know how to be good?”

“By…listening?”

“And…?”

“Following.”

“Very good!” Amane stroked his head. “Just keep doing that. Listening and following. Don’t think about anything else but that. Can you do that for me?”

Bang nodded.

“Words, dear.”

“Yeah…y-yes, sir…”

“Good, kitty. You’re already doing so good.” With the absentminded flick of the wrist, the scarves changed orientation, swirling in a new pattern and direction. “You’re gradually going calm. You’re taking all that stress and tension and difficult thinking and passing it over to me. You don’t need them. You don’t want them.”

Another flick. The pattern changed again. Amane could see the colors reflected in his partner’s wide, glassy eyes. “I’ll handle all the important things. Worries. Thinking. Just leave it to me. All you have to do is listen to what I say. Do what I tell you.”

Another. A new pattern. “Because you want to be a good kitty. And good kitties do what they’re told. So when I tell you not to worry, you won’t. Right?”

“...Right…” The response came out as a half-whispered murmur, releasing a thin thread of drool from the man’s mouth.

Amane didn’t need to look at his own handiwork. He was getting the best view right where he was, watching its effects. Oh, and no matter how many times he’d seen it, the thrill never dulled.

“Now what I want you to do is take the last little bits of your thoughts and worries- oh, I know you still have a few tucked away in there, don’t try to hide them from me. You don’t want to be a bad boy, do you?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Glad we agree. So take those silly little worries and get rid of them. They’re mine now. The one and only single thing you need to focus on is dropping. Are you listening? Count with me, kitty.

Three,

Two,

One…

Down.”

Even with the support of the ribbons, Bang barely kept himself upright. It took several moments to come back from being boneless, and even then, there was a clear lack of coordination to his movements. But that didn’t matter.

He hadn’t been told to move yet, anyway.

“Good kitty. You’re doing such a good job. Which means…” Amane’s eyes twinkled. “It’s playtime!”

One end of the ribbon wraps around a discrete drawer in the bureau and tugs it open. Its interior is stuffed full of colorful plastics and silicone in varying shapes and sizes. He ushers the other man to it, shuffling along on his knees with the help of a ribbon-tendril to keep balance.

“Pick a toy, kitty.”

Bang shuffled over to it on his knees, the ribbons giving just enough slack for him to move as needed. He picked the same one he tended to, a scarlet piece that was simple and unembellished but chubby all the way up. The base went in his mouth, and he crawled back over to present it to his master.

“This one? Alright.” Amane turned it over in his hands. “What do you think, sweetheart? Should I bend you over and put it inside of you right now?”

Through the addled haze in his eyes, the dancer could see how Bang perked up at the idea. Not considering any reason or logic beyond the thought of having something to stuff his holes.

Amane feigned hurt. “Come now, do you really think I’d do something so mean? You hurt my feelings.” As he turned away, he couldn’t stop a grin from cutting through. “You know that things don’t go anywhere until we get them nice and wet and slippery.”

While he grabbed for the lube, he gave the toy a long, slow lick from bottom to tip, and was sure to do it so that Bang was watching. Though he said nothing, Amane could see the look in his eyes that told him he wished more than anything that his master’s tongue was on him, instead of some lifeless silicone.

“Oh- did you want something?” He asked, feigning surprise. “Of course, kitty, just a minute. Be patient.”

Though Bang had always been insistent that he could ‘take it,’ Amane had not been swayed. He’d always been generous when it came to lubrication, and he had no intention of changing his mind. Getting halfway through intercourse only to find blood all over everything wasn’t his idea of sexy. He held no hesitation in rubbing the artificial dick down until it was practically shining. It and his hand were practically marinating in lube already, but one could never be too safe when it came to these sorts of things. Besides, he was quite fond of the filthy wet squelching it made when his fingers rubbed against each other, or against the shaft.

Bang liked it too. He made no attempt to hide it. When he was like this, subtlety was entirely off the table.

“You like watching me?” Amane asked coyly. “Or would you like this little thing someplace else?”

A rhetorical question. The man passed the toy off to one of his obedient ribbons, which slithered around the other man’s back. Bang’s meager sense of attention followed it, already shifting his weight and trying to raise his hips.

Still, Amane paused. “I’m going to put it in you now. Do you want that? Would that make you happy?” He asked, making sure Bang was looking at him while he spoke.

“Yes, sir.” He slurred, dizzy and practically incoherent in his own eagerness. “Puh- please, sir- “

Eager to please, and to be pleased. How sweet.

Well, eager or not, no need to rush things. There were no nerves in the scarves, but Amane knew his partner to a fault. He knew exactly how to duck away as soon as he tried to wriggle back and shove the toy in all at once. Bang gave an irritated whimper as he felt something brush against his hole, only to immediately back away.

“Tsk, tsk. That simply won’t do, will it?” The dancer childed. There was the slightest edge to his voice, but his touch was still delicate and gentle. He had no desire to leave an injury as punishment. Truth be told, for all his ‘master’ bravado, it was just another part of putting on a show. It took a lot of effort to not immediately spoil Bang stupid as soon as he brought out the big cute eyes. He was simply a performer through and through, good at putting on masks as needed.

So, really, it didn’t take much for him to give Bang what he wanted. A few more moments of deprivation as punishment, but nothing more. “Deep breaths, kitty, and if it starts to hurt, you’ll say something, won’t you?”

“Hnnh- “ The man desperately jerked his head up and down. “Promise.”

“Excellent. Go slowly.”

It didn’t matter whether he did or didn’t anyway. The scarves were an extension of their master, and if he thought Bang was moving too fast, he’d pull back until they found a steadier pace. The ninja released a beautiful whimper as the blunt tip eased past a ring of muscle, loosened from previous use but still eager to accept the intrusion. Amane paused to savor it.

He never understood people who rushed through things. Wasn’t the buildup to the climax the entire point? The body of the performance leading to a spectacular finale? Maybe it was just him bringing art into the bedroom again. His partner had always been willing to indulge him, even if it hadn’t worked out. Beautiful panes of muscle, though Bang ended up being far too ticklish to sit still for body paint…

Ah, and here he was, getting distracted so easily, missing out on so many delicious sounds and squirms at his feet. Amane watched the man gradually work the bright red silicone into himself until it was nearly gone from sight, before easing back out, and back in again. A sudden, startled sound told him that Bang had found that little nerve cluster, but the lack of balance and control from having his arms bound meant he couldn’t consistently hit it…well, at least until another scarf picked up the slack and angled it just so.

“Theeeere we are, isn’t that so much nicer? Isn’t your master so kind to you?”

Another jerky nod. He could see the way Bang desperately tried to form words to thank him, but that kind of precision was quickly escaping.

“Not to worry, I know how grateful you are, kitty. So why don’t we use that mouth for something else?” Amane calmly reopened his robe. “Can you promise me you won’t bite?”

Tenjo or his parents had never taught him much about sex, and Kagura had taught him all the wrong things. It had taken time to set everything straight, but it was just another reason that Bang was so willing to sit down and do what he was told. It was an experience he had never gotten before. He was still rough around the edges, but Amane wouldn’t skip the opportunity to give him some more practice.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, voice quiet but commanding. “Just like I showed you. Gently.”

Once more, he obeyed. The ninja’s hands shook behind his back as he did, either out of nervousness or some impulsive desire to do the job by hand despite the bindings. For a moment, the man sat shaking and slack-jawed as he tried to figure out what he was doing. Amane held in the urge to laugh. It would have only come across as mockery. Bang was doing his best. And he was just so earnest about it…

Without thinking, the grip he had on the man’s hair tightened, to the point where Amane heard him whimper. He forced it to loosen. The feeling of a warm mouth around the tip of his cock was always better than he remembered it, even before anything else happened. Bang’s tongue brushed the underside, but stayed flat without any command to move it. He simply sat still, mouth full, staring up for someone else’s approval.

“Good. Gods, just like that, just-” Amane wrapped a hand around the back of his head, resisting every urge to shove it all the way down until he choked. It would have been so, so easy to get carried away and finish off as soon as possible. Patience, patience. Bang was giving him plenty, he deserved such back. He busied his fingers with more petting, instead. “Good boy, good boy.”

The man all but purred as he was praised, which added a splendid sense of vibration to the wet warmth. Slowly, steadily, he started to move, momentarily pausing to make sure he wouldn’t be chastised for it.

“Perfeeeect. Gentle- mhh- keep doing it. Breathe- breathe with your nose, remember. Go slowly. Don’t take more than you can handle. If you want to use your throat, take it veeeery slowly.”

Bang had always been an excellent student. It didn’t take long before he was nearly pressing against a tuft of well-maintained violet hair at the base. Back and forth, back and forth, tongue stroking the sides as he moved. An absolute natural.

A scarf prodded the end of the sex toy that was still half-hanging out of his ass. He’d completely forgotten about it with something in his mouth. Both the forgetting and the remembering were things Amane had done on purpose. This was a mind he could tug in any direction, if he so chose.

But even if it was something done on purpose, he couldn’t fake those big soft eyes looking up at him, silently pleading. Even if he wanted to resist, that alone would have melted it immediately.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten about you. If you feel comfortable, you can ride it while you please me.”

Better to make sure he wouldn’t get his cock bitten off. Amane could forgive a lot of things, but that was crossing a line. The grip on Bang’s hair grew harsher as the man first leaned back, and his jaw stiffened, but both his mouth and the grip eased after that initial moment of being taken off-guard.

“Good. Good kitty.” Amane soothed the pulled spot with more petting. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

They found a good rhythm after a bit more motion. The dancer savored the brief coldness as his partner’s mouth pulled away, only to take him all at once down the loosened muscles of his throat. Bang hardly needed the scarf’s assistance to maneuver the toy, rocking back and forth as he moved his mouth. Clipped grunts managed to escape around the obstruction in his mouth, swiftly growing shorter and higher-pitched.

Amane didn’t flinch at the wet spatter that stained his ankles. Keep it hush-hush, but the great Ninja of Love and Justice’s combat stamina did not reflect in the bedroom. Amane found it cute, though. But he didn’t get to be done until everyone had gotten a turn. It wouldn’t be long.

His composure unraveled the closer he grew to his own climax. Little semblance of his ‘master’ persona remained as he started panting and pulled Bang as close as he could with trembling hands.

“Hah, I love you, I love you, so much- hah, my good boy, sweetheart- darling, Bang- !”

When the fuzzy spots finally started to clear from his vision, Amane was struck with a sudden sense of thirst. Ugh, and given how sweaty he was, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Always easy to forget that sort of thing when he was caught up in the moment.

Though he didn’t feel all there quite yet, he knew he still had a job to do. Bang had gone still, uncertain of what to do without direction, and merely sat there with off-white drool spilling out of his open mouth. As much as Amane wanted to admire the sight, he couldn’t simply leave him like this, that wasn’t how it worked.

“Yuh- you can still listen,” the words came out as tired panting. “But you feel the hold lessening.”

The scarves withdrew, significantly clumsier than they had moved before. There was barely enough dexterity to undo the collar’s clasps and peel it away. “The sensations are coming back to your arms and legs. I’m giving it all back to you. I am no longer your master. You are in control of your own mind and body. You are Bang Shishigami, I have no power over who you are or what you do.”

Amane snapped his fingers. “And back up.”

Immediately, the man pitched forward, nearly hitting his head against the chair base if not for a soft hand interrupting it. He shuddered from the echoes of tactile sensation, suddenly finding himself sweaty and spent and tired.

“Don’t move, it’s alright-” Amane slipped out of his seat and knelt at his partner’s side. “Here, darling, here. I’ve got you.”

Bang coughed on the foreign sensation that coated and clogged his mouth and throat. Another hand pressed something clean and dry against it.

“Spit.”

With a shaky gag, he spat up a sticky white glob of phlegm and come. Amane dabbed at the dirtied corners of his mouth with the cleaner edges of the tissue before throwing it into the garbage.

“Better?”

“Mmhm…”

“I’ll get a glass of water for the last of it, but let me check your wrists first.” The silk ribbons still hung limply in place, waiting to be pulled off. He picked up one of his partner’s newly-freed hands and scrutinized the skin. “No redness? No bruising? Does anything hurt?”

He shook his head in a slow jerk. Amane still chose to look for himself, thumbing over the faint pink lines to see if it evoked a flinch. All he got was Bang’s weight slumping against him, letting his jaw rest on the other man’s shoulder. His hands clumsily pawed around Amane’s waist.

“There, there. Good boy, such a good boy.” The two moved in a slow, soothing rocking while Amane ensured there weren’t any wounds to address. The other man just hung off of him like a heavy sloth. “Can you get up? If I help you keep balance, do you think you could stand?”

It took a few tries, but they managed to find a way to disperse the weight on four legs. The two of them waddle-walked to the kitchen, still practically glued to one another. Amane carried most of their collective mass. He was used to lifting partners during a performance. Even if this partner weighed more than his usually did, it didn’t worry him much.

“Hand on the counter, hold yourself steady so I can get you your water, okay?”

No reply, only the feeling of a hand moving away from his hip to plant itself against the hardwood. Bang always tended to get quiet after the fact, but he would cling on like nothing else. It was a little awkward to get around, but Amane wouldn’t dream of trying to pry him off. Even if he didn’t simply love spoiling the man to bits, going without something to cuddle up to or wrap around made him fretful and weepy. Endorphins were one thing, but Amane certainly wouldn’t go out of his way to make him cry. Really, if anything, having the chance to indulge him after the fact was almost as much of a turn-on than the main show.

One hand to stroke his hair, the other to tip the glass against his lips. Amane had two hands with ten fingers, and knew how to use them all. He had no intention of ceasing his concern until they were both comfortable and relaxed.

With the movement making cool air brush his naked skin, it only made Amane all the more aware of the sweat coating both of them, and he cringed. “Come on, hon. Bath time.”

He could hear Bang chuckling softly to himself. “Don’t cats hate baths?”

“Mmm. Most do.” Amane kissed his shoulder. “But you’re a very good kitty, aren’t you?”

Chapter Text

This was going someplace that she didn’t like, and it was going there alarmingly quickly.

After enough threats of violence, and the teeniest, tiniest bit of personal growth, Anji had finally gotten it through his thick goddamn skull not to just waltz up with requests unless it was something important. And, in that case, more often than not if it was something important, it was more likely he’d try to solve it himself, lest the problem worsen in his absence.

“Gonna say somethin’, or just stand there catching flies all day?” As Baiken spoke, she dragged her katana’s blade over the sharpener, all but daring him to reply.

Well, then again, Anji had never been a guy who knew when to shut up. “...You gotta talk to him.”

“Why me, exactly?”

“Everyone’s pissed at him, and he doesn’t even look like he cares! Answer’s about to snap. Tried eating lunch with him, and he kept stabbing the plate until I swear he cracked something.”

Chipp again, that was all he wanted to talk about lately. Baiken had been tired of the matter from the beginning, and only grown less patient the more it went on. So he got a swelled head, all guys like him did with enough time. Done enough of the basic work that he was content in blowing off his obligations now and pawning them off on his underlings. Chipp had never been the sort of guy to sit still, even back in the day. Baiken couldn’t help wondering why Anji was surprised by this turn of events in the slightest.

“I see.” She replied, noncommittally monotone. “Was wonderin’ why you got that dent in yer lenses. Never thought the bookworm woulda’ swung atcha like that. Ya just left him pissed? Didn’t try to do nothin’?”

“I did! Someone had to help him chill out!”

“Did you actually?” Prodded Baiken, “or did you make some dumbass remark that just ticked him off more?”

“I-I would never try to- !”

“What did you say, then?”

“...’Are you going to tell me what’s got you so aggravated, or are you simply going to continue taking it out on the poor cutlery?’”

“So the second. What about this is my problem?”

Anji continued his directionless flailing. “But- but he’s slacking off with you, too! Isn’t he supposed to be doing combat training? I haven’t seen him at your tent in weeks!”

“I don’t give a shit. If he wants to duck out, I’m not gonna chase him down. Gives me more free time.”

Based on his expression, she could tell he hadn’t expected to be blown off so calmly. Reluctant, perhaps, but not entirely ignored. Baiken had no clue why he’d expected any different, how long had he known her? She, however, knew him plenty well. She could tell he was still dancing around the point.

“Why’s this so important now? You can’t tell me you worry about Answer that much.”

Bullseye. She knew that flinch like the back of her hand. Anji sheepishly replied “there’s a big meeting tonight. Lots of new villages thinking about joining the kingdom, and a lot of important people are going to be there. “

“Yeah? And?”

“And- what do you mean ‘and??’” He huffed.

“Did you offer to take over and be in charge for the thing?”

“No, but- “

“Then either do something about it yourself, or let him deal with the consequences of his own damn actions. He’s not your fuckin’ kid.”

With his problem no more rectified than it had been when he started, and with an additional kick to his pride along with it, Anji sulked off not long after, offering one last pitiful parting look in Baiken’s direction. It went ignored.

Though she still had no intention of getting involved, she was still sure to keep an eye and ear out. Baiken managed to pick up on when strangers started moving through, all in the same general direction. While they trudged off into the sunset, she lit her pipe and waited.

It was little surprise to hear shouting from the gathering not long after it started. Baiken had to suppress a smirk.

++++++

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Seeing Anji so wound up was much funnier than it should have been. He’d always been the one trying to do that to others, carefully needling them with just enough plausible deniability to still look innocent when they inevitably took the bait and lashed out. Baiken doubted he’d learn from this, realize how much it sucked to be on the opposite end of his own tricks, but it was fun to imagine anyway.

She felt a tiny bit of pity for Answer. He, at least, meant well. He’d been sold on a promise for a better future that felt less and less feasible the longer things went on. She wouldn’t admit it, but the guy had a tolerance for bullshit that Baiken could only envy. She would have already decided she’d been taken for a ride long enough and left long before now.

Chipp was…oh, who the hell even knew? Probably several kilometers away, pestering more people. No point in worrying about him. It just soured her appetite.

Not long after, something knocked at the tent post. Answer made a murmur of surprise, but Baiken didn’t look up from her bowl. She knew everyone’s footsteps. It was no surprise when Nagoriyuki walked through the door.

“O-oh. Nago! I hadn’t realized you would be back so soon.” Anji moved to greet him, once the initial moment of confusion passed.

“There is still plenty of breakfast, if you have any interest.” Added Answer, gesturing to the table.

Silently, he joined them. It didn’t take Anji long to start prattling, though Baiken was just glad he was doing it to someone else instead of her. Much like Answer, the guy had much more patience than she could dream of.

“Hope your trip was okay, at least. One of us has to be having a good time.”

He made a noncommittal noise and poured himself some tea. Anji seemed to take it as a go-ahead for more one-sided chatter. “I swear, at least you know how to get stuff done- lookit, out and back in just a few days! Can always count on you. I’m sure Answer appreciates it, too. Some could certainly stand to take a lesson from y-”

“…I may have something of use to your problem.”

Well, that did a good job in shutting him up fast. She wished she’d thought of it. Answer, likewise, was already paying attention. “You do? Though I’d rather not get my hopes up, we are starting to feel desperate.”

“I had mentioned to an old associate of mine that you were experiencing an issue. He’s gathered quite the collection of magical relics over the years. I thought he may have been able to lend some aid.”

Baiken tried not to scoff into her breakfast. Nago hadn’t said why he’d been going in the first place, but with how Anji and Answer had been going on and on lately, half of it had to be in order to find some kind of problem-fixer, and the other had to be just trying to get some peace and quiet from the ruckus.

Pulling the travel bag from his shoulder, he began to look through it for something. Answer tried to peer over. “And was he in possession of anything useful? I’m not sure I understand what you have in mind when you say ‘aid,’ but I’m sure you already thought it through, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “My colleague was able to offer this.”

Nagoriyuki held up a strange object that looked as old as it did obscenely expensive. Some sort of medallion on a thick chain, studded with crystals in the shape of an eye. Writing circled the golden outer rim, but in a language that long predated everyone present, even the vampire.

Answer adjusted his glasses, squinting at the odd accessory. “Did he happen to mention how this device allegedly works?”

“I presume it’s a fulcrum,” replied Anji, carefully taking the trinket. “Yes, see? This center piece turns. It appears as though its purpose is to draw the eye.”

“But for what purpose?”

“To make alterations.” Nagoriyuki replied, folding arms along his broad chest. “Not the most ethical form of magic. I’m not pleased at the thought of anyone using it, but given your desperation…”

Anji’s eyes widened in realization. “It’s like a fancy antique chain watch.” He looked at Answer. “You know, like in books? Mind control stuff.”

Immediately, Baiken scoffed in disbelief. “What, hypnosis? You don’t seriously think that’d work, do you?”

“Well, it’s not like we have any better ideas. Chastising him and threatening him hasn’t worked so far. If he doesn’t shape up, something’s gonna go wrong that all the PR in the world can’t fix.”

She looked up at her fellow swordsman. “Big guy, y’don’t think this is real, do ya?”

The man’s expression offered little insight. “Unconventional, perhaps. But if anyone could do magic like that…” He stared at the antique watch.

Well, not like they had anything to lose trying. As soon as someone spotted Chipp in town, Answer unsubtly dragged him back to the main tent where everyone else was waiting.

“Alright, alright, I’m comin’. Yeesh, what’s all this?” As soon as he saw the gathering, Chipp cocked his head. “Did I forget something? I miss a meeting?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Baiken caught Answer chewing on the inside of his cheek. Undoubtedly avoiding an outburst for all the meetings he had missed, though this wasn’t one of them. Before he could take the chance to yell, the moment was interrupted.

“We, uh, found something we thought you’d totally love!” Anji pressed his hands together. “It’s a super rare and ancient Japanese relic. Usually this sorta thing would be secret, but since you’re with us, we wanted to show it to you first!”

Anji knew how to get his interest. As soon as the word ‘Japanese’ came out of his mouth, Chipp was practically crawling on him to see. “Ooh, you found something? I wanna see!”

“Careful, careful.” With a few nudges, Anji managed to get him to sit down at the cleared breakfast table. Chipp looked far less insufferable with those big eager eyes, Baiken could see how the others had been swayed in the past. Once he was sitting like an eager schoolboy, Anji pulled out Nagoriyuki’s strange trinket for him to see. “Like I said. It’s very secret, and very precious. But I’ll show you how it works, okay?”

Chipp nodded. Even folded his arms in his lap. Suck-up. “Let the teaching begin, sensei!”

“It’s a little hard to see, you gotta squint right at the center really hard. There’s some small writing on the inside. Got it?”

Another nod. “Easy! So what’s it supposed to do?”

“Don’t wanna spoil the surprise! Just keep looking at it until it shows up.”

Chipp leaned in to try and see better. As he did, Anji began to move his hand. The careful flick of a wrist sent the object swaying on its golden chain, twinkling in the light. ‘Hypnotizing’ was a far stretch, but she would say the shiny metal and myriad of colors definitely drew the eye.

“Can ya stop swinging it around so much? It’s hard to read any of it when it’s moving.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work, boss!” Said Answer. “It’s like a puzzle!”

They continued to swing the object in front of his face, managing an awkward rhythm. Chipp dutifully watched it go, back and forth and back and forth.

“D’ya see it yet?” Asked Anji, already practically jittering in excitement.

“Uh…no? Why…?”

His secretary’s lips pursed behind the mask. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Chipp put a hand at his side to push up from his seat. “Look, I just don’t get it. I guess it’s cool, but I have a looot of stuff to work on- “

Baiken snarled. “Siddown, big boy, we’re not done. Don’t try to duck outta this.”

To her surprise, he didn’t immediately try to run off again. The second she put a hand on his shoulder, he sank back into his seat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shuddered in annoyance. “Don’t call me that. The hell?”

“Guess it needs a bit more juice…” Murmured Anji. He sped up his wrist motions, swishing the device a bit faster. Though Chipp kept up, he looked no different.

After another minute of nothing, Baiken couldn’t keep her irritation in anymore. “Come off it, you idiots, this ain’t a damn cartoon. Just ‘cause you waved a clock in his face doesn’t mean he’s gonna start dancing for ya.”

The dancer sighed, slowing his movements until the watch dangled limply in the air. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Cracking his joints, Anji stood up and moved to give the object back to the man who’d given it to him. “Thanks, Nago, but I guess this was a bust.”

When he looked up, the man was staring right past his shoulder. Puzzled, he tried to copy his gaze, turning around in place to find what was so damn interesting. As he did, something moved behind him.

“Uh…what is he doing?”

It wasn’t elegant. It was barely even rhythmic. But Chipp still danced like his life depended on it. Leg kicking in the air, arms swishing back and forth, and a sway to his hips. It was an eyesore, but his expression held no hint of shame. Actually, it didn’t have anything at all. Just a flat, neutral look, almost empty.

“Is- is it working?” Answer gaped.

“Tch. Well, I’ll be.” Baiken snickered. “Hey, gaijin. Do a little spin fer me.”

On command, he immediately ceased dancing and started twirling in place.

“Haha! Lookit him go!” Anji broke into raucous laughter. “Okay, Chipp, now start barking!”

Unlike the last time, he didn’t immediately drop the old order in favor of the new one. In fact, it went entirely ignored. Chipp just continued to spin.

“Wh- hey!” Anji snapped his fingers, brows bunching together. “You’re not listening! Why do you keep spinning around? Stop it!”

Answer stepped in, looking far more genuine in his sense of worry. “Boss? You’re going to give yourself motion sickness. Stop spinning.”

Once again, no change.

Baiken thumped a sandal on the floor. “Hey. Knock it off. No more spinning.”

He immediately stopped.

Confusion overtook Answer’s face, and he looked between Baiken and his boss. “How come he’s only listening to Baiken?”

“Miss Baiken does project a sense of…authoritative confidence,” Nagoriyuki said, after a moment’s thought. “In a more psychologically pliant state, I assume he gravitates to the one that exudes the strongest sense of authority.”

“Not faaaair.” Pouted Anji.

“We shouldn’t waste time. I only gave this to you in the hope you’d use it responsibly. I have no qualms in changing my mind.”

“R-right, right.” The dancer paled under Nago’s scowl.

Baiken rested her hand on the pommel of her blade. “Guess that means we gotta get to work turning the little shit into the good dog you want so bad.”

The ninja slowly blinked, looking in her direction. “Uh-huh. I wanna…wanna be a good boy…”

Anji immediately snickered. “Man, so he’s like that? I guess in a weird way, I’m not all that surprised.”

Despite herself, she was smirking too. “That so? You wanna be a good boy, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded sharply. “Tell me I’m good. Tell me I’m not a mistake.”

Anji’s air of playful mischief soured. “...Huh?”

“Bo- er, Chipp,” Said Answer, sounding just as befuddled. “Why would you be a mistake?”

“‘Cause the sisters at the orphanage say so. They say that’s why nobody ever wants to play with me.”

The four started at one another in uncomfortable silence, all while Chipp merely stared blankly into the distance. Even Nagoriyuki appeared off-guard.

Well…they could unpack all of that some other time. There were more pressing things to focus on, and nobody was quite sure how long this altered state of mind would last. They had to cram as many changes in as they could as fast as they could.

“Okay. So whattaya want me to say?” Baiken looked between the men.

“T-tell him to stop running out on meetings!”

“And tell him to think about what he says before he insults someone again!”

“And to wash his hair more often, he can’t keep coming to formal events covered in dirt!”

“Don’t forget ‘stop stealing other people’s food from the fridge!”

Nagoriyuki pushed Chipp back into his seat, where he remained perfectly still. It was an eerie sight. Chipp was never still, unless he was asleep. The only movement came from the blinking of his dulled eyes. Though still as the rest of him, they followed the woman’s motions as soon as she came into his line of sight.

Baiken lit her pipe and found a place to sit. Threads of smoke framed her face.

“Your name’s Chipp Zanuff, and you’re a hard worker.”

“I’m…I’m a hard…worker…”

“Right. You love that.” She glanced off at Anji and Answer, who encouraged her along with bright smiles and a thumb’s up. “You are a devoted man. The only thing you love more than your country, your people, and your employees is hard work. You won’t be distracted by anything when there’s work to be done.”

“Uh huh…won’t be…”

More hazy trails floated up to the tent roof. “You ain’t gonna cause any problems for anybody. You’re the perfect picture of a perfect politician. Nothing’s gonna distract you from that.”

“Nothing…”

“You wanna be a good boy, right?” She rasped.

“Mmhm.”

“So you’re gonna do everything I say, right? No more ducking outta meetings, no running off?”

“Mmhm.”

“Good.” Baiken nodded. “You’re gonna wake up like normal. But you’re gonna remember all that stuff I told you. You’re gonna be the perfect politician. The perfect worker. That’s all you’re gonna care about. Got it?”

“Okay…”

Without prompting, his cheek hit the table, and he began to snore. Baiken went back to her pipe, as the others swarmed his unconscious body.

“Did it work?” Nago asked.

“Dunno. Guess y’all are gonna have to see.”

++++++

Answer couldn’t remember the last time he was so fidgety. He’d done everything he could think of. He’d reorganized his office. Fiddled with his sleeves until he was worried about them fraying. Loosened and tightened his mask. Even after all that, his hands still twitched.

Though he knew what he was waiting for, it was still a shock when the door swung open. Answer had to turn his head and double-check the clock just to be sure. It was only nine, what was he doing here? Chipp never showed up this early.

“Boss! Good morning!” The secretary snapped to attention. As unusual as it was, he knew the man’s shape from any distance…except, to his surprise, he immediately found himself lost again.

Chipp had shown up in a plain grey suit and a red tie in a Balthus knot. Answer was surprised he even had that suit. They’d used it for promotional pictures during the initial campaign, and it had popped up a few times during speeches, but Chipp had never been a suit-and-tie sort of politician.

He blinked. A suit and tie…that’s exactly what the perfect politician would wear, right?

Amid his spiraling thoughts, Chipp approached without hesitation. He took the other man’s hand and shook it, unbothered by the limp reaction Answer offered in return. “Good morning, Answer. I hope you slept well?”

“Y-yes, I suppose…I suppose I did.” Not exactly true, but the words fell out of his slack mouth before he could give a better response.

He expected to be prodded for his awkwardness, but Chipp only nodded along. “Good to hear, good to hear. Anything I missed? Good to start the morning by getting up to speed on everything new.”

Chipp had missed quite a lot, lately, but Answer chose to pick from the more recent events. “The Antwoord village fifteen kilometers west is trying to schedule a meeting with you to discuss trade flow. I assume you’re going to want to head over and speak with them yourself…?”

“Of course not, I have work to do.” Chipp replied. “I can plan out a meeting at a later date once my paperwork has thinned a bit. If you could please send them a message, I apologize for ducking out, but I simply must attend to it ASAP. Is there anything else you need to let me know before I get to it?”

It took all of Answer’s willpower to not stare like an idiot. Had that really just come from his boss’s mouth? He had to be dreaming.

“Hey, look who’s up early!” He was distracted from his distractedness by Anji’s sudden appearance- uninvited, but given the circumstances, Answer could forgive it. The man had probably been bunking outside, just waiting for Chipp to show up. He greeted the abnormally well-dressed man with the slyest smile his face could muster. “And well, well, well! Lookee there! That’s a real sharp getup you got there, looking real presidential!”

“Mr. Mito.” Like he had with Answer, Chipp greeted him with a perfectly formal tone and another attempt at a handshake. “I was not expecting your presence. I don’t believe you had a meeting scheduled for this timeslot.”

“Aww, well, just stopping by for a visit! Just wanted to catch up.” He ignore the handshake and threw a playful arm around the other’s shoulder.

A hand roughly removed his arm and shoved his back to arm’s length. “I must ask that during your unscheduled visits, you at least put on something more business-appropriate. I would be much more amenable were you not coming into my office dressed like some sort of…exhibitionist hoodlum.”

“O-oh?” The bewilderment was thick in Anji’s face and voice. He looked between Chipp and his refused arm. “Well, uh, whatever you say, boss! How about I make it up to you with lunch today? Been working on my sushi-rolling technique! Baiken says it almost looks just like it did when we were kids!”

Chipp was always up for Japanese food. Even if it came out sloppy, he ate it all with a smile.

Yet Anji only found himself staring down a disinclined frown. “I appreciate the offer, but I really must pass. Too much work. And besides, I need to watch my weight. Those have too much fat and carbohydrates for me. But I appreciate the offer, and hope you enjoy it in my stead.”

“...Oh.” His shoulders drooped.

Arms folding behind his back, Chipp turned and strode away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have far too much to do, as I’ve already explained. I will be with you as soon as I can, but it will be some time, I’m sure. I have a lot to do, and my work must always come first.”

The door to his office slammed shut before anyone could intervene. If they strained their ears, they could make out the sound of sliding paper and scratching pencils, then the sound of a phone being taken off the receiver.

Anji and Answer stared at one another, distraught at the revelation they were currently sharing.

“...Oh god, we made him boring.”

Chapter Text

The thing covering his head was harshly ripped away, and not a moment later, a pail of water was thrown in his face.

On instinct, he flinched back, expecting a third strike to his unguarded face. Though his shoulders stiffened, something kept his hands from moving up to protect himself. Something uncomfortably rigid bit into his wrists as soon as he tried to move them.

“W- wh- “

“Are you properly awake?”

All that came out of his mouth was an aimless grunt. Beads of water rolled down his skin, soaking into the fabric of his clothing and making him shudder. Between the water in his eyes and the brightness surrounding him, it was difficult to see much of anything. Nor did he have any hands at his disposal to wipe the mess away. As he tried to blink, the thought struck him that his glasses were absent. Well, there went his hopes of seeing much beyond his own two feet, even if he could get his eyes open properly.

“Are you awake?” The same voice asked again. It didn’t sound any more familiar the second time. Something about it vaguely reminded him of a doctor in the cardiology wing, but her voice was a lot scratchier from a dozen years of smoking. Ironic. He’d always seen it as such. Despite knowing better, stress from hospital shifts often manifested in habits that flew right in the face of their work. Though he loved his job and greatly respected his colleagues, he’d also be the first to admit that doctors were hypocrites.

Ah- distracted, that wasn’t good. Was it a sign of a concussion? Mere disorientation? Hard to tell, so little info to glean. Were he anyone else but himself, he would have contemplated the possibility of a hangover. He was never one for rowdy nights or exciting outings. Work took a lot out of him. Many places weren’t built for his size, either. Frankly, he was boring. It only made his strange circumstances all the more baffling.

Something forcefully grabbed his chin and jerked it upward. The motion made his gradually-quelling anxiety spike once again. Between the light and the water in his eyes, he could still barely make out anything at all.

“We expect you to respond when spoken to. Is that quite clear to you, doctor?”

Different voice. Much lower. He wasn’t certain if the hand belonged to the voice’s owner as well, but there was a similar vitriol in its grip.

Fear was a better stimulant than coffee. Knowing that he was distinctly in danger forced his mind into clearing itself, at least a little more than before. Enough to access the encyclopedia of hospital knowledge squared away in his brain. Not the medical procedures, for once. He passed by them to look for the hazard precautions. In the event of emergencies, it was important to deescalate the situation before someone lashed out and became physically violent. Typically, that was because you were dealing with an injured or ill person, and didn’t want to exacerbate their condition, but doctors prided themselves on adaptability. It was a complex field, after all.

“Whk- “ As he tried to speak, he coughed on water that had found its way into his mouth. “Where’m I…?”

“Ah. So there he is.” The second voice said, with a peculiar smugness about it. “You certainly took your time.”

“No point in chastising him, you were the one responsible for ensuring the dose was correct.” The scratchy woman’s voice responded before he could even entertain doing so.

“Hmph.”

Beige. Lots of beige. He kept blinking in a vain attempt to clarify things. Beige…coats? Trench coats? Were they detectives? He’d spoken to several already. That sort of sudden accident tended to attract questions…he still had plenty, himself. None of them had found anything suspicious, though. He wished they had. Then there would have been some kind of closure to give that poor family. Had the hospital decided to let in more investigators? Wait, but if they did, why wouldn’t they say anything? And they had never shown up in his house before- no, this couldn’t be his house, could it? Whatever he was sitting on didn’t feel like any chair he owned. What was happening?!

Urgh, his head was spinning too much. Squinting didn’t help. He hoped the strangers would offer him some kind of explanation, as trying to get it himself wasn’t showing much promise. Movement was something he could track without much issue. One of the strangers was pacing back and forth. There had to be at least two, but he was pretty sure based on distant motion that there were three. It still didn’t explain where he was or what these people wanted, but every little scrap of information would be useful.

“The esteemed Doctor Jian, I presume?” The man spoke up again. He had to assume he was mocking him. Jian wasn’t someone people mistook. Between his reputation and his abnormal stature, most recognized him as soon as they laid eyes on him. Was that the point? Was he trying to get a rise out of him? Some officers liked to prod and poke, wheedling suspects until they lashed out and justified a more serious punishment. Jian knew better than to fall for it, but that was in the circumstances where he had all his wits about him. In his dizzy, confused state, he had to remind himself to remain polite and not make the situation worse by acting thoughtlessly.

“Yes, that’s me. And who are you, if I may ask?”

As the one in front of him turned, he could make out a glint of light on metal. There was something on his face. A pair of glasses was either built into it, or placed on top of it. “That won’t be of any consequence. It’s likely you won’t remember anyway.”

“I…I’m not sure I understand.”

Another one of them- ah, yes, he’d been right, there were three after all- approached whatever he was sitting on. “Try not to worry yourself with those little things. Just relax, make yourself comfortable.” He said. “No point in screaming. We are someplace beyond where you can be heard. A place not even your educated mind could wrap itself around. So please, do control yourself, won’t you?”

“What- “ Jian wished he had more eloquent responses, but he was still trying to make sense of this whole situation. He tried to look elsewhere and see if it offered him any useful information.. The space above him was a featureless dark void, just as the space surrounding the strangers.

When he looked down, that was finally enough to make his heart start to speed. He still didn’t recognize the place he was sitting, but he could recognize restraints. An experimental tug told him what his eyes had already. That was the reason they’d expected him to scream. Dragged off to a strange place and chained to his seat. Every detail he’d been able to figure out so far put him less at ease. Despite knowing it wasn’t going to be much use, he still jerked his arms in the hopes that they’d made a mistake somewhere, that they would pop loose with just the right amount of force in the right spot.

If any of his captors noticed, they chose not to say anything. “Do you have any intention to join us, Baldias?”

Something shuffled in the distance. A fourth member of their congregation? He couldn’t make them out.

“You appear to have everything under control.” The mysterious fourth eventually replied, each word slow and certain. “And what happened to avoiding personal information, Axus?”

The glasses-wearing one winced. “My apologies. My senses left me for a moment.”

Jian was still trying to jerk his hands out of the latches. “What am I doing here? What do you people want from me?!”

A ripple of strange laughter passed through the small, dark room. He wasn’t sure which one it belonged to. It didn’t sound human.

“Oh, that’s a simple answer.” The woman approached him, pausing at the chair’s side. “We want from you what I imagine many already have. Tell us about the girl.”

For a moment, he considered playing stupid. But if these people had already gone to all this trouble, then they had to already know something. He turned his head away.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Ask the director. Or read the papers, there have already been plenty of articles.” It had taken some convincing from his colleagues to take down the cutouts. They hadn’t understood why he’d put them up in the first place. He had to remind himself. Had to punish himself. Had to know just how many people hated him for what he’d done. He couldn’t be the only one.

The rough hand suddenly grabbed his jaw again, jerking his face forward. Jian found himself face-to-face with a set of eerily glowing yellow eyes.

“Try that again.” It was the other man, the taller one, with a similar mask that lacked the eyeglasses. “Do not confuse my reaction for anger. I am not angered. The end result will be the same, no matter how you try to divert that path or fight against it. I simply hope for your sake that you take the correct option and be compliant. While we do need you to be alive for this, it does not, however, mean you have to be in one piece.”

Jian could only look on, vision blurring further as his nerves built. “...Who are you people?”

“That doesn’t matter,” the woman replied. As she passed by his shackled seat, he noticed the ends of a neatly-kept bob poking out from behind her mask. “What matters is who you are. Quite the enigma, aren’t you?”

“Doctor, doctor, doctor…” The glasses-wearing one- Axus- tutted. “You simply couldn’t make this easy for us, could you?”

Jian wasn’t sure if he was frightened, confused, or frustrated. There was a bit of all of them swirling about in the chemical tempest of his uneasy mind. “I- I don’t- “

“You weren’t supposed to just…let it go.”

“Let what go?!”

“What do you think? What else could it be, doctor? A girl died on your table. A child. A dark spot on your otherwise-spotless record. And…that’s it? You go on as normal, hardly impeded? It doesn’t bother you in the slightest?”

The insult of it forced him to bite his tongue to silence himself. He hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. It haunted him to his core. He’d only desperately held onto himself out of fear of hurting anyone else. Could anyone be so callous?

Tall-man made a blurry gesture with one hand, one that he couldn’t make out even as he squinted. “We were quite sure of how everything was supposed to work. The ordeal was supposed to break you. You were supposed to go mad and lash out. The specifics of it were of no consequence, as long as they were bloody. While I can commend your defiance of statistics, that was quite a poor choice. We- or I, at least- prefer to avoid this sort of direct intervention, but what’s necessary is necessary. You chose wrong, Doctor Jian.”

Chills zipped up his spine and delivered themselves to his extremities. He was suddenly reminded of the faceful of water that still clung to him, no longer dripping but nonetheless plastering his clothing to his skin and making goosebumps rise along his arms.

“Is there any chance we could persuade you to change your mind?” The woman asked, arms folded behind her back. “Surely the thought of violence has struck you at least once since the ordeal. Hasn’t it been heavy? Hasn’t it been such a burden? I imagine the feeling would be quite liberating.”

“Are…are you serious? Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?!” How bizarre it was, negotiating his sanity as though it were a good on sale at the general store. “How dare you think I don’t care! Of course it was a tragedy! Of course it haunts me! But I am a doctor. My grief is something so- so tiny and unimportant! I have more patients to treat. I can’t create more grief. People need me. I won’t turn into some…some mindless monster just because you, for some reason, think it’s what I should have done.”

The room went silent outside of his single, nervous swallow.

“...I see.” Said the woman, with a tone of almost sadness in her voice.

“A pity.” Said Axus, much less sympathetically.

“So you choose not to cooperate, then.” Said the tall man. “If you won’t break naturally, we will simply have to break you by hand. Not the most ideal outcome, but you’ve left us without choice.”

“Why- what are you- ”

One of them reached for his head once more, forcing it backwards until his bald scalp brushed the chair’s backing. He grit his teeth as the skin was ground against the material, accidentally or intentionally. Another set of hands wrapped something soft around his mouth. A knot was tied around the back of his head, tightening the material until it was stuck in place.

Some sort of gag? It was the only logical thought he could find. Though in fairness, these people hadn’t made much sense so far. Trying to understand what they wanted and why had so far been an exercise in frustration. Why was any of this of interest to them in the first place? What did they mean ‘break him?’ What did these people think they could do?

More hands fell on him. Despite the blur of the light, he tried once more to focus and take in any detail. Gloved hands. He could feel the callouses on Axus’ fingers through the material. The tall man’s were long and thin to match his stature, and the structure reminded him of a seamstress he’d once treated the arthritis of. With how they worked in tandem, they must have negotiated the details of…whatever this was beforehand.

Something heavy landed atop his head, but not big enough to make out in the corners of his vision. Little by little, the weight increased. Medical diagrams of pressure sores instinctively flashed through his thoughts. His hands twitched. Something pointed dug into the skin behind his ears, swiftly becoming unbearable as another something clicked to tighten it.

”Careful, you two- “ The woman’s voice took on an unexpected sharpness for the first time “Don’t do more than what is necessary.“

“Don’t try to be soft now, Libraria.” There was the fourth again, Baldias, still out of sight but perfectly audible. “Is this some flimsy attempt to soothe your conscience?”

The woman made a noise in her throat, but any thoughts of a reply stayed where they were. The points behind his ears eased with a pair of quiet clicks.

“Everything looks normal.” Axus said. “Normal as it can be.”

A faint but oppressive droning began to thrum from the machine, filling his ears until they rung and itched. Tiny sparks lit up his nerves. Single muscles clenched all over. Tingling sensations danced across his skin, coalescing together at the base of his skull to pool out through the dome of bone.

Magical psychosurgery. He’d read a couple of theoretical papers on it. Theoretical, in bold text, because as far as anyone knew, the field of study was still in its infancy. Magic offered plenty of ideal benefits in simplifying medical treatment and reducing risk in operations, but too few had done testing to even humor the thought of using it on living humans.

…Gods above, these people were utterly mad.

The sensation was just as physical as any normal poking and prodding. This sort of magic was like radiation, passing through the meager layers of human skin and bone to permeate the flesh beneath. In the olden days, it had been used as an archaic form of torture. Was that their goal? To prod his pain centers until he howled for mercy?

No. That would have been too straightforward for their baffling motivations. His hazy vision was filled with an array of bright yellow symbols that burnt his retinas even when he closed his eyes. Some kind of sensory overload? No, that didn’t feel right either…

“Ah. So the connections are already torn. Once more, I can’t help but commend your fortitude, doctor. Bent, but not broken. You still cling on to those tattered filaments.” Axus patted his cheek like a condescending parent to an unruly child.

Confused muscles and a meager shred of dignity were the only things that kept him from biting the man’s fingers. Those tingling prickles found a spot in his head that sent the room spinning around him. What…what on earth were they trying to do to him? Jian was an esteemed doctor, yes, but this was medicine he didn’t understand, if it was never medicine at all.

Itchy. Itchy. If his hands were free, he would be picking at his skin until it started bleeding. At least there was no hair to pull. The worst part was that it wasn’t any single thing. A pinch here, an itch there, and he was already losing his composure. But damn it all, didn’t he deserve this? How dare he complain about some petty discomforts when a child was dead. He disgusted himself.

No, he had to use that anguish. Had to cling onto it and make something useful. He couldn’t atone for his atrocity by wallowing in defeat. Jian would resist whatever this was and go back to his work. He had to- !

Something sharp pierced the back of his head. The searing yellow patterns seemed to grow even harsher. Jian tried to look beyond them, but he struggled to process even the empty blackness that served as a backdrop. His eyes naturally gravitated to the moving shapes. This wasn’t a spell he knew. Equal portions of him wanted to study to understand it and avoid it at all cost. The former seemed to have an edge. Something about it…compelled him. Drew his thoughts the same way it drew his eyes. Like the light had some kind of gravity all its own, sucking in what was nearby despite his unease.

“Good boy,” the woman’s voice curled around his throat. A hand rucked the fabric of his sleeve, and in a strange moment of weakness, he hoped it was hers. In the chaos of all this, she was the closest thing to a gentle spot he had. “Drift into the warm light, little firefly.”

He wanted to. He despised that he wanted to. Pain would have been preferable to this. The body could dig its heels and squirm and thrash, but the mind was a far more complex beast. Of course he knew this was bad. Of course he wanted to resist. But as his consciousness was dragged against its will towards that strange, humming light, the grip on his thoughts was forced slack.

“Hold the little bug still.” Someone said- he couldn’t even remember a name. “Make sure he doesn’t squirm.”

Something rustled in the back of his thoughts. Jian gave it nothing more than a halfhearted glance. Those lovely yellow lights twisted into new formations, drawing him deeper and deeper into them. He swore it whispered to him. It promised beautiful things. It promised that the happy haze would pale in comparison to the bliss it held deeper within.

Didn’t he want to feel it?

All he had to do was come closer, closer, closer.

It would be incomparable to any delights he’d experienced in his life. Enough to forget any sorrows and sadness. That was good, wasn’t it?

Just sink into the light and be content.

…

…no, that wasn’t right, was it?

He wasn’t- that girl, he couldn’t just forget- !

Though a gag had been tied around his mouth, his jaw nearly dislocated itself as he snapped it open with a crushing force. The noise that came out of him almost couldn’t be called a scream. It echoed through every nerve and thread of sinew, rattling throughout.

Something in his skull tore. Jian yanked and twisted back as much as he physically could against it. It tore further as he pulled. Something popped loose. He stumbled back with a chunk of himself falling in his lap.

“Why is he- ?!” Someone snarled. “I told you to keep him Still!!”

He processed the syllables, but nothing combined into comprehensibility. His psyche flailed. Patients often panicked when they were wounded. He understood what that felt like now.

Magic exploded off of him in frantic arcs, instinctive reactions to the illusory hole in his head. Something incredibly powerful had swung down to smash him into nothing, but by sheer fortune, he’d taken a half-step back from under the mallet head. Or maybe misfortune. Not an abrupt, gentle end, but a screaming, bloody one. He was still alive, but part of him wondered if that was really the better outcome.

In his hysteria, the shackles holding him down frayed. The moment he recognized a spot of weakness, he lurched forward, pulling and pulling and pulling until the material snapped away.

“Libraria! You bastard, did you do this?!”

“I-I didn’t do anything- !”

He watched their vague forms wince away as another explosion of magical energy set the ground aflame. Doctor Jian ran. It was all he could think to do. He tore past these strange, horrible people, stumbling on his unsteady feet but still moving forward. Tunnel vision made the strange, dark room narrow until it threatened to suffocate him.

A window. How had he not seen that before? How far away had it been? That didn’t matter. A window was still a way out. He’d take it.

Glass was more durable than most people assumed. His first blow bounced right off of it. He swung again and again, shoving a shoulder into it and making the pane rattle. With enough full-body slams, he forced the window frame to pop right out of its anchorings, sending the entire apparatus plummeting. All that was there to greet him on the other side was a sickly, milky haze.

He’d take it.

As he tried to throw himself out of the window, a bolt of new pain shot up the doctor’s leg. Serpent bites. He’d treated plenty, and even got a few of his own as a child. His province was rich in snakes. This wasn’t quite the same. It was larger, more jagged, less pierce and more crush.

“You’re not allowed to leave.” A low voice snarled. “Don’t think we’ll just let you.”

It seemed even they hadn’t recognized the depths of his desperation. Jian had no hesitation to keep going. He didn’t need complex thought to pull against the new binding. He could feel chunks of skin and flesh tear away. The pressure inched down his long limb, only for it to desperately snap shut just below his heel, delicate bones shattering and splintering immediately.

The doctor screamed.

He yanked.

He stumbled.

…He fell.

…

…

...

Doctor Jian fell for an eternity and hit the ground almost immediately after.

The force of the fall sent a kaleidoscope exploding in his mind. He was so distracted by the colors that he entirely missed his body splattering, only for it to pull itself together again.

Pain. Pain. Confusion. Pain. He shouldn’t be alive. He wasn’t going to question why he was. That could matter when he wasn’t in danger.

Lurid hues in the distance went ignored. The twisting terrain wasn’t even a footnote. This place was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and he hardly thought to look. The sight of it would have left most mortal men mad, but his splintered mind could only fray so much more.

He was operating on little more than animal instinct now, desperately fleeing a threat and seeking a safe space to hide in. Every step taken felt like it was done on different feet.

Feet. Feet? Was that important?

What was this feeling? Terror? Pressure? Something was squeezing him. Trying to attack him? He kept running.

Nobody was shouting. He couldn’t make out any attackers. Why did he still feel uneasy? He wanted to vomit. The ground below was uneasy. Maybe that was just him, tripping over himself.

And yet…the longer he went on, the more the pressure started to change. He found it…comfortable. It was the only constant his psyche could latch onto. It reminded him of a woman’s voice. Warm. Cozy. Pretty.

Pretty?

Yes, pretty!

Pretty! Pretty! Yes very good pretty happy doctor good good good!

A burbling laugh passed through the contortions of his internal organs, dribbling out from a loose-hanging jaw. “Ha-a-a-a-a-aaaaaappy!”

Happy! He was so, so happy!

The pressure on his body forced his already-lanky form thinner and thinner, past human proportions and into the absurd. If one looked at him from the south angle, they could see organs pinched into narrow filaments, but only from the south. His body had no holes. His mind was full of them.

Jian traipsed about on spaghetti limbs, feeling how they curled and twisted and morphed. Clusters of pure data floated along and stuffed them into the gaps, swelling until it threatened to burst apart the few lingering tatters of his self. The Backyard was overfull of knowledge that nobody was meant to understand, too big for a human vessel. Jian didn’t understand. Not yet, at least. His body was making plenty of space for it all to fit.

Very smart! Very super smart! Happy! Make happy!

His fractured mind could only conjure up faded snippets of faces. Sad, sad faces! Very sad! Bad sad! Fix! Need fix!

He was a fixer, wasn’t he? Once upon a time? He was a fixer! He made things better! He forgot the word, but that’s what he was. That’s what he was for.

“Haaaaaaaappy!”

Needlelike fingers ripped a hole in the gooey wall between realities. It came to him as easily as breathing. He squeezed through, falling to the ground again, coated in sludge from the place he had just been birthed from. Ridges of himself rose and fell.

Light! Beautiful light! Easier to see now, he had enough eyes to make up for it. But no point slacking! Work to do! So much work!

Ah, a person! They must have come for treatment. Very smart! He could fix it! That’s what he was for! Make it better! Make happy!

He smiled at his first patient, grinning until the top half of his head came loose and oozed onto the grass in wet threads.

“H-a-a-a-a-a-a-appy!”

Chapter Text

He didn’t realize the sorts of things he’d miss while living on the lam. Plenty of them were obvious, to be fair- air conditioning, hot meals whenever he wanted, spare money to do what he pleased with. Others, less so. The ability to walk down the street without a care in the world wasn’t something he ever thought would be put in jeopardy. Neither did the idea of not having shoes. Or having to keep all of his important possessions on-hand most of the time unless he wanted to risk having it taken while he was away.

(One thing was for certain, as soon as he got this nightmare sorted out, he was going to triple the foundation’s charity contributions, at a minimum. He didn’t want anyone to live like this, live with any kind of uncertainty that their next meal, bath, or set of clean clothing was too far away)

Access to medicine was another one he hadn’t thought much about before. Of course, as long as he stayed healthy and cautious, it shouldn’t have been a major source of concern. Except…

Ken bit back a whine of pain as he slumped against the brick. Left side, wouldn’t even dream of putting any pressure on the right. His hand grabbed at his shoulder, still uncertain if he wanted to dare touch the spot directly.

The bullet wound was old now, but it hadn’t started to bother him until a few weeks ago. At first, he’d brushed it off from a bit too much construction work straining the muscle. Then it hadn’t gone away. Then it had gotten worse.

It probably would have healed better if he hadn’t torn it open again twice, and that was even before getting into that fistfight with Sullivan. He’d done his best to keep it wrapped up, but it wasn’t as though he had easy access to a shower. There were a couple of public-use spots in a truck stop a few miles out of the city, but that was a fair bit of travel, especially on foot.

Then again, just the thought of cold water got his attention…

He picked at his collar. The fabric was nearly saturated with sweat.

It was hard to tell without a form of measurement that wasn’t his own hand, but his face felt hot and his palms were turning clammy. He’d tried powering through it, same as he had with the soreness, but cement bags and tools carts that had been easy to maneuver had felt a lot harder to lug around lately, and he found himself stopping to breathe far more often. Ken already knew that trying to ignore it only meant the problem would worsen. He wasn’t a complete idiot. This was something that required actual medical attention with someone that knew what they were doing.

…Which then presented a whole new set of issues. Grunt work at the construction site paid enough to get by, but medical insurance was another matter entirely (god, how had he never before even considered how absolutely bullshit the insurance system was?) And even then, walking into a public doctor’s office would be like putting a giant neon sign on his head. The only real choice he had was to dig around the back alleyways to find some kind of doctor that worked under the radar.

He’d spent the last few nights wandering the seedier parts of the city districts. Nothing had turned up so far. Well, there had been plenty of back-alley clinics, but all of them were either handled by someone who very clearly did not know what they were doing, or was obviously a bad idea to walk into unless he wanted to get knocked out and wake up without a kidney. Sometimes, beggars could be choosers, just a little bit.

The next district to trawl was Chinatown. Ken had stayed away from it so far because, well…just the thought of bumping into her made his stomach do flips.

He had to be in a really sore spot with Chun-Li, even just as a friend, let alone an Interpol agent. It was one of the few things he still felt ashamed about when it came to the whole fiasco. Approaching her after all that was still something he had no idea how to do properly. But if he’d exhausted all options, his pride and reputation was thoroughly smashed enough that he could stomach making a pitiful display of himself. In his more desperate moments, it felt more like a fantasy than a last resort- dropping in a filthy heap on her doorstop, begging at her feet for help, for clemency, for something- there would be some kind of relief in knowing that it was all over, no more running, even if he hadn’t been able to get back at the bastard responsible for ruining his life. Ken knew she would at least be kind enough to give him a shower and a glass of water before dragging him off to the precinct.

…Shit, what was he saying?! He wasn’t giving up yet! He didn’t quit, he couldn’t. He had to power through. For his family. For himself. Ken Masters was not a quitter.

With arms stuffed deep into his pockets, he trudged onward, past row after row of buildings. He’d picked up on a bit of Cantonese and Mandarin over the years, from a combination of interacting with Chun-Li and doing business deals with Chinese corporations, but by no means would Ken consider himself fluent. He hoped it’d at least be enough to read signs, and potentially communicate with whatever medical professional (okay, were he thinking about this realistically, probably only semi-professional) he happened to find. Well, that was, if he managed to find one.

The universe had picked up a habit of teasing him. In his stew of annoyance, he damn near missed the spot as he passed by. A little hole-in-the-wall-type place, squeezed between a restaurant and a secondhand store. Didn’t even have a proper name, just ‘Clinic’ written over the door, and what he assumed was the Chinese translation perched above it. It wasn’t a set of characters he recognized. No sign to indicate if it was open or closed, but he could spot a light on through the blinds.

With a hesitant sigh, Ken reached out for the door handle.

It opened with ease.

The lobby was empty. He wondered if it had been a fluke. Just as quickly, he wondered why he was in such a hurry to leave. He swore the wound in his arm pulsed in protest. He gingerly patted the spot in an attempt to ease the sudden soreness.

Several moments passed before he worked up the nerve to make a sound. “Uh…anyone here?”

Well, there was a counter, but it didn’t look like anyone was sitting at it. He approached and poked his head over it to be sure.

“May I help you?”

Ken was not proud of the sound that came out of him. Yeesh, living on the lam had made him jumpy. That kind of abrupt movement was murder on his shoulder, and it took far too much willpower to avoid letting the pain show. When he’d finally gotten his bearings again, he was able to get a better look at the person who had startled him. A strange woman; pale, almost like a corpse. Well, he’d met plenty of weirdos across the years, this wasn’t too far out of sorts. There was that…what, Russian guy? With the weird tattoos? She kinda looked like him. Didn’t sound Russian, though. Would probably be weird to have a random Russian lady in the middle of Chinatown, anyway.

When he didn’t reply, she took it upon herself to continue the conversation. “Ah. I thought I’d heard the door. You’re here for a walk-in appointment?”

To which he tentatively replied “Is this your clinic?”

“Whose else would it be, if not mine?” The woman tilted her head, arms still folded behind her back. A tiny smile escaped from under the fan of her hair. “I’m Doctor Fei. Follow me to the exam room, please.”

Immediately, she turned her back and started to walk. The abruptness of it all made Ken fumble. “H-hold on-”

As he spoke, she stopped, but didn’t turn around. “What for?” She asked. “You need treatment, don’t you?

“W- well, yeah, but- “

“Then follow me.”

Reluctantly, he did so. As weird as she looked. It definitely wasn’t helping him calm down, but he hadn’t been shooed away. As long as she remained weird and harmless instead of weird and threatening, then he could keep his mouth shut and not start anything.

It almost looked decently legit. A bit tacky, but legit. He’d seen much worse. Mellow erhu music played through the speakers. The place had the essentials, as far as he could tell. Were this a business meeting, she’d be doing a much better job of professionalism and decorum than he’d seen from some of his less savory partners.

The woman gestured to a room that branched off of the hallway. “Take a seat, I’ll only need a moment to grab my things.”

Whether or not Ken had something to say, she disappeared before there was any chance to say it. After a few moments of fumbling about and debating his options, he bit the bullet and sat down on what he assumed was an exam table. Christ, and not a second too soon, he was exhausted. Maybe he could squeeze in a power nap before she got back? He’d meant the thought as a joke, but as soon as it crossed his mind proper, his eyelids felt heavy.

Maybe there was a compromise. He laid back against the table, painfully aware of the dirt on his clothes and oil in his unwashed hair messying the clean paper. The ceiling lights glowed with fuzzy halos. It was difficult to force his eyes to focus, and harder to tell if it was from a fever or from exhaustion. What the hell, given how his life had been going lately, it was probably both. And two other things he hadn’t even noticed yet.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on slow, deep breaths despite the aches all over. One hand found the locket that hung around his neck. He gripped it tightly, feeling some of the warmth of his palm transfer through to the metal. Just had to remind himself. He had to make it through. For them.

“Alright. What appears to be causing your trouble?”

Well, she kept startling him, for one. He was gonna pull a muscle from it at this rate. It took a few tries to sit up again, carefully maneuvering to avoid using his right arm as much as possible. He hoped she didn’t notice.

“Uh…A lot.”

“‘A lot?’” She echoed. “Could you please be a little more specific?”

“I-I just need antibiotics. Or painkillers. Whatever you can give me.”

She tutted, wagging a narrow finger. “I don’t simply hand out medication so easily. Let me do a few quick tests first. Wouldn’t want to prescribe something that may have adverse effects, would we?”

Ken winced. He’d hoped to have kept the poking and prodding to a minimum, especially anywhere near his arm. But he supposed he had to compromise.

“F-fine. Just…be quick. Please.”

“Of course, of course. You’re not the first squeamish patient I’ve ever had. You won’t even have time to squirm.”

Though he was sure it was meant to be reassuring, something about her saying it unnerved him more. He watched her slip a stethoscope off from where it had been coiled around her neck. “Try to sit up straight, I can get the best sound that way.”

Ken attempted to do what he’d been told, and he suddenly felt more ashamed than usual about his haggard state. The lack of a good shave was one thing, but it seemed there were very few spots on him that weren’t caked with filth. It was bad enough when people saw him like this, actually being touched was a whole other humiliation.

For what it was worth, she didn’t so much as hesitate. The metal still radiated coldness through the material of his shirt. He tried to focus on that singular sensation and took breaths as instructed.

“Quite a bit of sound. I can hardly hear your lungs through the speed your heart is beating at. See? This is what I was talking about,” the woman shook her head as she tucked her stethoscope away. “Certain medications I craft can raise the heart rate when ingested. If I gave those to you when you’re already tachycardic, it could put undue strain on the muscles.”

“M’sorry, I didn’t-” Ken gave her an odd look “...’craft?’”

“That’s correct. I’m well-trained in creating traditional pharmaceuticals. As long as you use the proper ingredients, medicine made the traditional way is fundamentally no different than a bottle of pills from a pharmacy. Thankfully, for your sake, that means I can give you something for your symptoms quickly instead of needing to wait for a script to be filled.”

Huh. Lucky him, then. Better to get this done as soon as possible, anyway. Maybe he was finally getting a bit of better fortune, a little bit of his crappy situation turning around again.

It made it just a little easier to trust her. Strange or not, she seemed to have the sensibilities of a proper medical professional. When everything had straightened out, however long that took, he’d have to ask Chun-Li if she’d ever met this woman. They were practically in the same neighborhood.

He watched her go back to the supply cabinet, returning this time with a handheld light and a digital thermometer. “Your face is flushed, I want to know what’s causing it. Open wide, and say ‘ahhh.’”

How cliche. Oh well, no point in raising a fuss over something so trivial. “Ahhh.”

She held his jaw with one hand, directing a penlight with the other. “Just from a glance, I can see quite a lot of inflammation in the back of your throat. But it appears you’ve had your tonsils already removed? Good, that’s good. It decreases the likelihood of bacterial accumulation and a more severe infection. Lift your tongue, please.”

Ken did as he was told, and felt cold plastic prod the underside of the muscle. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had checked his temperature like this. It reminded him of the time that Mel had gotten croup at four years old. It hadn’t been severe, but for a first-time father, it had terrified him beyond belief. He’d been too afraid to even leave his son’s bedside until Eliza practically peeled him out of his chair.

Mel…he had to wonder what his boy was up to. Of course he didn’t doubt Eliza was taking care of him, but she couldn’t keep her eye on him all the time. Was he keeping safe? Of course he was smart, but he was still a kid, and kids didn’t always see every potential risk coming. Even adults didn’t always know what dangers could be right around the corner…

A series of tiny mechanical chirps distracted him from his thoughts. She pulled the thermometer from his mouth, a thin thread of spittle still connecting the narrow end to his lips.

“38.5 degrees.” She murmured, wiping the tool off with a cloth. “Or 101.3 Fahrenheit. You made a wise choice coming here, you shouldn’t be walking around with a fever, even if it’s mild. Plenty of bedrest is recommended to help it break faster. That much is easy to prescribe.”

“I don’t…” Ken thought for a moment, trying to decide how to answer. “I don’t have a house.”

He watched her blink in silence. “Ah. I understand. No need to be embarrassed about it, many of my patients are in similar situations. In that case, if you need, I have a spare cot that you’re free to borrow for a few days.”

“Wh- seriously?”

“Of course.”

“...Alright, what’s the catch?”

The woman chuckled, though it sounded more like a wispy hiss. “No catch, silly. I have every intention to assure that all my patients get treatment.”

It would be the closest thing to an actual bed that he’d had in a while. He hated that it made him feel giddy. Maybe he could write it off on the fever making him stupid. “Could…could I spend the night? It’s already dark, ‘n it’s a bit of a walk back to the place I’m staying around now.”

“Of course. I’ll be happy to let you lie down once I’m done looking you over.” She gave him a smile that actually almost looked kindly. Turning away, she went back to her cabinet of supplies, quickly fishing out a pressure cuff. “Just let me check your blood pressure. Stick out your right arm, please.”

“Does it have to be the right?” The question fell out of his mouth before he could think.

Apparently it surprised her as much as it surprised him. The woman slowly turned back, tilting her head. “How’s that?”

“Uh-”

“I suppose not, but why do you ask?”

This was too embarrassing to stomach. Ken shook his head. “N-no, never mind. Just do it.”

She didn’t look quite convinced, but said nothing. He resolved to make her forget. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, wouldn’t speak of it, wouldn’t react at all.

It didn’t last. He wasn’t sure if he could make it through the pressure of the cuff, but she hadn’t even wrapped it around all the way before it brushed the spot and wrenched a sharp grunt out of him.

He saw the woman’s shock. Ken shrank back, gingerly pulling his arm away. “S-sorry. Just hit a sensitive spot.”

“Hmm?...I see,” the woman hummed, leaning over to gently prod the nearby skin. “There’s no need to hide anything, I’m a doctor. What spot was giving you trouble?”

It had to be obvious from a glance. Still, he forced his mouth shut to keep from snapping. No need to be antagonistic to the only medical professional he had available. “Right under the shoulder. Under m’ coat.”

She rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and quickly noticed the wrapping along his upper arm. “It appears you have another injury in need of tending to. May I?”

Reluctantly, he scooted closer, tugging at the knot of fabric. “Sure. Fine. Jus’ don’t press it too hard.”

Her hands were quite deft. Even if he resisted, he doubted it would have impeded her much. The tie came undone in seconds.

“Oh my.”

On the front of his shoulder, the wound was ugly and reddened, but small. The opposite side, on the other hand, was a gnarled, misshapen starburst that split the skin. Crusted blood and pus stuck the fabric to his skin even as she peeled the bandage away.

“This is…a bullet wound? Hmph, firearms. How barbaric.” Her nails pressed into his flesh, thankfully far enough from the wound that it only faintly stung.

“D-don’t suppose this is out of your purview, after all?” Ken replied, uncertain which answer he would have preferred.

She shook her head. “I see plenty of these. I’ve witnessed enough gang violence to know how to treat these sorts of wounds. Just let me get a good look…”

The thought that she could offer some kind of help was the only reason he bit his tongue and kept himself seated in place. No point trying to hide anything anymore, but much like with his little fantasy spot of turning himself into the authorities, there was something reassuring in not having to try and hide anymore. Her hands were cold, but they felt wonderful against the heated, inflamed flesh that all but boiled under his skin.

“Pierced the soft flesh and passed through.” She eventually spoke. “Missed the bone. Good. Tissue damage is less concerning. Though there is a chance of fragments being left behind in the wound. I’m not sure what make or caliber this is, so I can’t say for certain how likely it is that you should worry about lead poisoning. Has someone already looked at this? Or did you wrap it yourself?”

He shrugged, immediately wincing again. “Someone wrapped it. Dunno what they did. It pulled open again, I rewrapped it myself.”

“Hmm. While aggravating the wound like that impacts its healing, replacing the dressing does decrease the likelihood of infection. Though it seems there is still irritation in the area? Something is dirtying it, I’m certain that’s the main cause of your current condition. An infected wound like this can easily cause the sort of symptoms you appear to be suffering from right now.” Pausing, she nodded to herself. “Yes. That must be it. Once it’s been cleaned out and you’ve taken a proper course of antibiotics, it should heal nicely. I don’t think there’s even a need for any stitches. It is likely that there will be some scarring, but unless it forms a contracture, I don’t believe there will be any long-term concerns.”

“Really? You can do that? And so easily?”

The woman responded with a smile, and for the first time it appeared quite warm and inviting. “Trust me, mister Masters, I’m quite good at what I do. Just a moment, please, I need to get some more supplies.”

He watched her go with a smile of his own, rhythmically tapping the side of the exam bed with a pair of fingers. Good news. God, finally some good news. Getting clean and taking some pills, he could do that. He could do that in his sleep! It was nothing compared to some of the stuff he’d been through. Yeah. He could do that, easy.

It took him far too long to realize that he’d never mentioned his name to her.

The aside comments about his heart rate bubbled up in his thoughts. He could feel blood pounding in his ears, speeding up. No. No, he didn’t need to assume bad intentions so easily. He was a public figure. If anything, maybe it meant he should have been grateful. She knew who he was, yet didn’t immediately throw him out or scream for the police. That was good, wasn’t it…?

Unless…unless that was what she’d gone to do? Had she just politely excused herself to find a phone and call the police on him? Of course he had no way to tell one way or another. The woman had such an odd aura about her, Ken hadn’t known what to make of her from the get-go. Or- or was he assuming the worst? Was he assuming malice just from how she looked? Had her smile been as eerie as he’d thought, or was paranoia exaggerating everything into a threat? How could he be sure either way?

The sweat of his palms seeped into the spot where he’d clutched his pant leg. His wound throbbed along with his racing heart, and he swore the temperature in the room jumped. Maybe it was the fever again. Ken forced himself to take a breath. Stilted as it was, it still made him feel just a little bit better. Made it easier to think rationally. Sit still. Don’t do anything rash. That’s how all of this had started in the first place.

She returned not long after, with the same smile. The only thing different was the pot in her hand and a matching teacup in the other. He’d never been much of a ceramics guy, but the patterns on both gave the impression that they were antiques. Pretty expensive-looking. Where had she gotten them? Hell, didn’t explain why she had it out, anyway. Was this normal…?

“That doesn’t look like antibiotics.” He half-chuckled. “Are you washing the wound with that?”

A pleasant smile graced her face. The woman shook her head. “This is a concoction of my own making. One of my finest pieces of work. On the tongue, nearly indistinguishable from a fine cup of hong cha. Imperceptible to even the most astute palettes.”

She paused, eyes closed in something that looked like bliss. Ken could swear that when she opened them again, her pupils had narrowed.

“When ingested, it first targets the gamma-aminobutyric acid production of the body and significantly increases its output, inhibiting the activity of the brain while the rest of my lovely creation goes to work. It then targets the hippocampus, cerebral cortex and frontal lobe, portions of the brain that handle memory functions, long-term memory, and personality, respectively, assaulting the gray matter and leaving lesions in the tissue. It devastates the mind beyond repair. A single proper dose causes a hypnotic stupor, memory loss, lack of focus, concentration difficulties, slurred speech, impaired coordination, proprioceptive disruption, severe fatigue, and sedation. A sustained dose increases the sense of disorientation until the damage becomes permanent and irreversible. In short, anyone under its effects becomes little more than a lump of empty, brainless flesh, incapable of even standing without assistance.”

She held the cup out to him. “Enjoy.”

Unease, so thick it was nearly tangible, began to flood the room. Every instinct Ken had was screaming for him to turn tail. Years-tempered willpower kept him in place, just barely.

“Why would you tell me that?” He asked, desperately doing all he could to keep his voice level. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh?”

“If you’re trying to poison me, why wouldn’t you just…give it to me?”

Something about that must have been funny to her. She covered her mouth and laughed, a shrill, unpleasant noise. “So you know what’s going to happen to you. Because I want you to take it. I want you to choose it of your own volition. I want you to give up.”

“Y-you- “ He recoiled, standing up and backing away. “You’re with Amnesia. With him!”

“Petrovich? I have nothing to do with that money-driven fool. My allegiance only belongs to my master.”

Ken grit his teeth in a snarl. “So then what the hell do you want with me?”

“Nothing more than curiosity, really. Just a personal interest.” She replied. “There’s few things more delicious than despair. And you’re so steeped in it that it’s radiating off of you in waves.”

“I don’t buy that. Not for a damn second.”

“Hmm…”

He watched her tap a too-long fingernail against her jaw. They looked more like claws than something human. The fact that he’d let her touch him without any kind of resistance…it drudged up a feeling of nausea. Even now, her demeanour was hardly any different from before. He’d thought she was a harmless eccentric. He’d thought he was safe.

“Isn’t it so easy?”

Still wary, Ken spent several moments debating whether or not to humor the woman with a reply. “Isn’t what easy?”

“For everything to disappear. Decades of dutiful training, hard work, building relationships with loved ones and businessmen alike…all gone. A poorly-doctored video and a couple of bombs takes it all away. No matter how many tournaments you’ve won, how much work you’ve done to help people, as a fighter and a businessman…poof!” Hissing laughter made his ears itch. “Isn’t it sad? Isn’t it hilariously sad? Everyone’s abandoned you! You aren’t going to win. Your reputation is in tatters. It doesn’t matter what you do, it’s going to stain you for the rest of your life. Ken Masters, world-renowned terrorist and con man. To many, that’s all you’re ever going to be. So what’s the point?”

In a silent, smooth motion, she plopped the teacup in his palm and poured it half-full. His first instinct was to throw it back in her face, but his hands shook too severely to risk trying without spilling it all over himself, instead.

“Come, now. It’s best when it’s hot. Do you not trust your doctor’s orders?” The woman chuckled to herself again. “What’s holding you back? What’s there left to cling to? Eliza?”

Ken tried to repress a flinch, and failed. “Keep her out of this.”

“Do you really think your wife is going to take you back? Even if she didn’t believe the allegations, do you think she loves you enough to throw her own reputation in the trash for being with someone like you? Eliza is a smart woman. She knows how to take care of herself. She’ll take the boy and leave- oh, who’s to say she hasn’t already? And maybe she’s already found another nice man who isn’t a wanted terrorist. Good for her. I hope she’s happy.”

“Eliza- s-she wouldn’t- !”

“But how do you know? You haven’t been keeping a close eye on her. You can’t. Not like this. And what about your little boy? He’s growing up into a young man now, with his own life. Neither of them need you to be happy. They’re fine on their own.”

“E-even if she would do that, I still have- “

“What, who’s going to help you? Mister Ryu? He’s thousands of miles away, attaining enlightenment. Miss Chun-Li? She’s with Interpol, she would arrest you on the spot and toss you into prison for the rest of your life. All of your friends have left you. In fact, they’re living quite happily. Entirely without you. Does that mean you’ve been the one thing holding them back from living a better life?

“...Without me…” He looked aside, uncertain.

“How long have you been living out here? Slogging away with grunt work, desperately trying to get by with the bare minimum? Not one of them has come to try and find you, to help you. Not even your best friend has mustered up the interest to show up. How long will it take before you’re convinced that they don’t care? Oh, they never have. You just take so long to accept the truth.”

“Y-you…you’re- !”

Even if he had been deliberately hiding, Ryu was the one person he would expect to find him. They had been through so much together. In his mind, they had been more than friends, they had been brothers…hadn’t they?

So why had he never shown up, not once? Not even to make sure that he was still alive?

Did he genuinely believe the lies? N-no, Ryu was smart, he wouldn’t be fooled by something like that, would he? He knew who Ken was. Knew he’d never do something like that.

…So where was he? In the darkest moment of his life, how did he have no idea where his best friend and closest confidante was? Was…was Ryu trying to avoid him…?

The woman slithered behind him before he had the time to blink. She dragged her fingers along the back of his shoulders, sharp nails digging through the thick material of his overcoat.

“Aren’t you tired? Tired of running, trying to scrape by on the pitiful fragments of your broken empire? I’m offering you an escape. I’m giving you mercy. You can finally give up. You can rest.”

Whoever this woman was, Ken utterly despised her. He loathed the saccharine sympathy in her voice, like she actually cared in the slightest. He knew it was fake, just like everything else about her.

And yet…it was still the closest thing to kindness anyone had bothered to give him, ever since his life had fallen apart. Not even from his closest friends. Not Ryu. If Ryu wouldn’t come to his aid, then…he was quite sure that nobody would. He’d well and truly hit rock bottom.

And nobody else cared.

“I’ll give you purpose.” Her voice turned low as it brushed his ear. “I’ll take good care of you. All you have to do is drink.”

His hands shook. She was inches away. It would have been easy to grab her by the throat, throw her into the wall, and run back into the relative safety of the streets. But why would he want that? What would he be running back to? Nobody was coming for him. Not Eliza, not Chun-Li….not even Ryu.

“Just take it, and all of your problems will disappear.”

He thought about Ryu. How he loathed his old friend. The one time that Ken needed him more than anything, and he wasn’t there. Ryu had moved on. Ryu was too good for him now. It didn’t matter how much they had trained together, fought together, grown together. As soon as he wasn’t useful to his training anymore, Ken was something to be discarded.

It was enough to push him over the edge. His face was heated and wet. While his vision was blurred with tears and his fingers trembled,

He took a sip.

Once the first mouthful went down, it felt easy. He took a second, third, fourth. Hardly paused to breathe in between.

The woman’s spindly fingers stroked his filthy hair. “There there, good boy. Be still.”

She was right. It just tasted like ordinary tea. The warmth of it pooled in his belly, one of the few comforts he’d had in recent memory. He clung onto it as his senses started to blur and fuzz over. The room around him started to tilt and spin. The once-soothing erhu music took on an insidious quality, digging into his ears yet smoothing his sense of distress the more he listened to it. It and the drink spiraled together in his senses, looping around his ankles and starting to tug him into a disorienting swirl. It felt like a strong drunken buzz, but…heavier. Deeper. This stuff worked fast. It likely helped that he wasn’t trying to fight it off. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

“Just take your medicine and stop thinking.”

That was all he wanted, more than anything else in the world. But still, there was a flicker of guilt in the back of his mind that continued to burn, even as the rest of it had started to flood and drown.

’Eliza…Mel…I’m sorry…’

Ken choked on his drink and the sob that escaped his chest. It wasn’t enough to make him stop. To the contrary, it made him swallow faster. He wanted to forget. He just wanted the pain to go away.

’…But you’re better off without me, anyway.’

The final sip of tea came with a sudden, unexpected bitterness. It stung his tongue as it passed over. A final clear sensation before the numbness fully overtook everything.

…

“Oh, you broke my teacup…ah well. I should have expected that. I was the one that put muscle relaxants in there. Shishishishi!”

“I’m going to call him L.O.C. Isn’t that cute, master?”

Though his movements were often exaggerated, he knew how to control his facial expressions. Not that it was of much consequence- few things genuinely surprised or startled him anymore. There was almost no reason to make use of that skill when nothing made his face show any sign of wavering or weakness.

Almost.

A.K.I. had contacted him at the oddest possible hour of the night. Her voice held even more damnable saccharine cheer than he was used to, proclaiming she had some ‘exciting’ news to share with him, best demonstrated in person. Not an assassination, she claimed, but something far better. Her words had confused him. Puzzlement drew him to come as much as any business interest. He’d told her full well that they were to avoid direct interaction so frequently, lest any overhearing little bugs pick up information that was none of their concern in the first place. But A.K.I. was insistent, even by her own standards, and he’d eventually agreed.

Nothing had looked particularly suspect upon arrival. Same old building he’d converted to a semi-legitimate clinic before passing it off. She’d been dutiful in keeping it clean and treating the rare walk-in without tipping anyone off about any activities going on under the surface. It seemed the clinic itself wasn’t the ‘news’ she had spoken of, anyway. A.K.I. had gleefully grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled her master along to one of the clinic’s back rooms.

There sat Ken Masters. Or, he supposed, whatever remained of him.

F.A.N.G wouldn’t deny holding a hint of animosity for the man, he’d caused some trouble for his master’s fine work. But he’d also admit his fantasies of retribution were never so…creative.

Poison offered a delayed death, but even then, the sorts of poisons he used only delayed for so long. He was an assassin at his core, and what sort of assassin worth their salt would deny the purpose of their work? Delaying a mark’s demise was only to be used to serve a purpose- diverting suspicion, allowing the assassin to plot their escape ahead of time, to use the pain to wrest information from someone in exchange for making the suffering end.

But this…this was something entirely different. “Why is he still alive?”

A.K.I. remained cheerily unbothered, both to her master’s astonishment and the results of her handiwork. “I need a useful bit of meat to test my new work on. Every good scientist needs a test subject. Don’t you agree, master?”

It wasn’t a statement made without merit, but this was something else. In a twisted sense, he almost respected it. Testing out new toxins on the field always carried risk, having something at the ready to use to watch the effects of a new drug play out cut out a middleman of their profession. F.A.N.G knew that even a hardy test subject could only withstand so much, but with enough expert care, their death could be delayed for a very, very long time.

F.A.N.G would never admit weakness, not to anyone. Yet she had left him at a loss for words. His pupil had truly surprised him. Masters was…well, it felt difficult to even call him as such. He’d merely sat in the corner, blankly staring at his feet, transfixed by nothing. A shackle had been affixed around his neck, but the leash trailed lifelessly along the floor. He made no attempt to resist when pulled. Just stumbled along wherever he was dragged to like a lame, senile horse. There were already subtle signs of A.K.I’s work, especially in the eyes of someone familiar with it- the dirty-dark roots of his overgrown hair were starting to pale at the base from the constant poisoning, similar to the assassin’s herself. A gradually-slowing heartbeat, a peculiar tinge to the sclera from the abnormal buildup of toxins. A lost look in his eyes, seeing nothing with a glimpse of familiarity, an entire lifetime of experiences and memories harshly wrenched away. All that was left in its place was a dizzy, mindless stupor.

The assassin pulled on a pair of gloves to keep his natural poison restrained, at least temporarily. He performed a brief analysis, a second opinion just to be certain her work had been up to snuff. He cared little for the subject being used for it, but he wouldn’t allow her skills to stagnate in his absence. The shadow of a man moved when he was forced to, but otherwise stared off into the distance. A younger patient had carelessly left behind a doll during their visit, his pupil had said. She hadn’t thought to throw it away. He’d clung to it the entire time F.A.N.G had looked him over, mechanically stroking its strands of yarn hair as it sat in his lap. Maybe in the twisted, spiraling corridors of his empty, fogged-over head, it resonated with the echo of a missing memory. Maybe it reminded him of the son he’d used to have. That connection was too laborious to make tangible, so he simply sat and stared at it vacantly, uncertain of what he was doing or why, but unwilling to stop. Had A.K.I done it as a way to torment him, or as a twisted gesture of kindness? It was difficult to say.

Her master offered the faintest hint of praise, more for her skills in maintaining the clinic than anything else, and excused himself with haste. On his way back to the station, he nearly bumped into a man in a maroon kasaya. F.A.N.G. hadn’t been paying much attention to where he was going, but neither had the other man, whose eyes were wide, uncertain, and pointing off in every direction except for the one in front of him. The assassin merely shot him a look of annoyance and continued on to his train.

Chapter Text

He almost hesitated in breaking the spell. The doctor was so peaceful like this. Didn’t even mind the bit of drool leaking out onto the pillow. No matter how many times Slayer insisted, it was always little things the other man fixated on, wracked himself with guilt over. Even small messes easily cleaned from the upholstery.

Still, they had made an agreement. Even if Slayer meant well, he didn’t want to strain the sense of trust the two had fostered. He granted himself a few more indulgent seconds, admiring the sight. So perfectly calm. So wonderfully peaceful. Not a care in the world. Faust was beautiful like this.

The vampire sighed, snapping his fingers. “...And back down.”

He felt the man twitch as the sensation came back to his limbs. Like the soul had reaffixed itself to his mortal body, clicking back into place. There was something quite cute in it. Slayer liked to watch him get his bearings again, skilled surgeon’s hands suddenly clumsy as they pawed for the blankets and the comforting embrace of a lover.

“Here, love, over here,” Slayer called out to him, reaching over as he did so. Carefully, in an attempt to avoid overstimulating, he gently stroked the back of the man’s hand to ground him.

“Hhh…whuh…” as he swayed, Faust latched onto a pillow as much as his awkward fingers could hold. His eyes briefly blinked out of synch before matching up again. Even if he didn’t outright cling onto his bedmate, he teetered in the man’s direction, like the affectionate gestures were a force of gravity.

Were he to be so bold, Slayer almost found the aftermath of hypnosis as enthralling as the act itself. There was no need to tell a subject to come closer, cling on, make themselves comfortable in their partner’s arms, it was something done on instinct. Just the perfect amount of coherence with a still-generous dose of ditzy calm.

Unfortunately, the calm never lasted long. The vampire watched as Faust’s expression shifted from confused, to pensive, to distraught.

“...I’m disgusting.”

“No, no, darling-” Slayer’s voice is a velvet-soft purr, just as gentle as the touch of his hands. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“I’m filthy. I’m- I’m a damn pervert, there’s so many people out there that could use my help, and what do I c-c-care about? Having sex, l-like I’m some kind of teenager! Filthy, filthy-”

“Shh, shh, no, sweetheart. Just breathe. You’re overwhelmed. It’s alright.”

Centuries of human interaction has made him well familiar with even the odder parts of their physiology. Though he’s not even sure this is particularly odd. It makes sense, what with the cocktail of chemicals that comes from intercourse, that it could have some jarring effects on the mind. Some amusing, like the lowered sense of disdain for cheesy, drug-store-novel-tier lines slurred between twisting bodies; others less so, like a nine-foot-tall man suddenly swamped by his ever-present guilt complex about having so much as a single night of relaxation.

It wasn’t the first time Faust had gotten like this, but that didn’t mean it was something easily brushed off, either. He was a volatile ball of fretting nerves that had to be placated slowly and gently. There was no magic cure, but he’d had some practice in soothing the poor doctor’s anxieties and helping him ground himself.

Slayer blatantly telegraphed his motions, slow enough that if Faust wanted to shy away from the hand reaching out to touch him, he could.

He did not.

“Sweetheart, be gentle with yourself,” Slayer murmured to his lover, gingerly petting the side of his face.

“Don’t- d-don’t be nice to me, I don’t des- deserve it.”

“Of course you do.”

“D-d-don’t-”

“Shh, I’m here. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

The doctor curled in on himself, choking on his own whimpering. He’d described the feeling to Slayer before, when he had his wits about him again proper. A sensation that he’d only been able to describe as ‘small,’ like everything in the world had suddenly become too much, too massive, overshadowing him until it threatened to eat him alive. He was fully aware of how absurd it sounded, and how contradictory for a man of his abnormal size, but in the moment, it only made him feel worse. That, compounded with the guilt that came from doing something so self-indulgent, often had the man so overwhelmed that all he could think to do was sit in a ball and hope the panic attack was a short one.

Slayer simply wouldn’t allow something like that to happen unimpeded. Still moving slowly, he continued to reach out. Faust made no attempt to push him away as he wrapped both arms around his middle and helped him lie down again.

“You’re lovely. You’re wonderful.” He murmured, spooning the doctor’s back. The difference in size was almost comedic, but neither man were in a laughing mood.

“I’m garbage.”

“Not garbage. You just feel a little out of sorts.”

“Because I’m garbage.”

“Darling…” Slayer hummed in dismay. Talking Faust out of his guilt spirals often took persistence, but it was a task he happily shouldered. A doctor took care of everyone else, but who was there to take care of the doctor?

Words wouldn’t help right now, so he merely focused on the physical. Making his beloved feel physically secure, in the hopes that it would do the same for his mind. Slayer only separated their bodies for long enough to fix the blankets and wrap them both up comfortably. Snug enough to feel close, but not enough to make him feel any more suffocated. It was a delicate balance, but Slayer took the challenge with a steel resolve.

His mind drifted to the work of an esteemed artist even before his time, the works of Euripides. To the plight of poor Orestes, a once-hero avenging his father’s death through bloodshed and a fall to madness. A beautiful tragedy, really. Yet at times, Slayer could only mull over those tiny human moments, how a heroic figure could fall to such lows, even viewing himself as without any worth or value. A dream of escaping to safety, held back in fear. The melancholy Orestes, contemplating his overlooking doom. Faust was in no true danger, but his mind viewed it as no different.

At Orestes’ side, the noble Pylades. A figure of encouragement and care. Even in those dire moments, unwilling to abandon his partner. Even as the man tries to shoo him away, fearing what may occur to his mortal body from the Gods’ interventions. Fearing his own weakness, his own human vulnerability.

“I’ll take care of you,” replies Pylades,

“It’s rotten work,” argues Orestes, unwilling to accept the thought.

To which his beloved replies softly, “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Slayer kept a copy in his vast library. Though he loved to read and reread the classics when the mood struck, he’d often slow when reaching that section again. By now, he hardly had a need to read it. He knew the words by heart.

Yes, call him a hopeless romantic. There were still times where those stories served a purpose, outside of the realm of simple fiction.

“I’m here. I’m here for you, love.” I’ll take care of you. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“You shouldn’t waste your time.” It’s rotten work.

“It isn’t a waste.” Not to me. Not if it’s you.

Faust sniffled, awkwardly trying to cover as much of himself under the blanket. “Did I do anything stupid when I was…when you…”

“When you were hypnotized? No, nothing of note. Like I explained to you, it doesn’t give you the urge to do anything you wouldn’t normally want. It just makes it easier to relax.” He paused. “Did you relax?”

“I did. Ohhh, why did I? Th-that’s so irresponsible- “

“Shh…” Slayer cut off his rambles by pulling the man close once more. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You are allowed to have some happiness for yourself. Please don’t punish yourself for the same grace you offer to others.

“But I can’t…I can’t-”

The vampire sighed. “I know. You feel that because it’s you, that sort of gentleness is suddenly off-limits. Dear, you are absolutely the highest-quality physician any man could ask for. But remind yourself that you are still human. Still a mortal man. You grow tired and hunger and experience physical delights and pains all the same. Allow me to treat you as human, not as an insult to any weakness you see in yourself, but out of respect for those limits. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Faust went quiet. He shuddered, but ultimately, he nodded. “I know it’s ridiculous. I know. I just can’t…"

“I understand. If you won’t accept so many offerings all at once, then perhaps we should try something a bit simpler. Something less overwhelming.”

“Such as…?”

Slayer thought for a moment. “Let’s get clean. Just a bath, nothing more. I’ll have someone draw the hot water. I find it helps clear both the sinuses and one’s thoughts.” He let Faust consider the idea before continuing on. “I was sure to get the bath soap you said you liked, pomegranate and black tea-scented in the blue bottle. Would the bubbles make you feel a little better?”

“I’m not a child…” Despite that, he could see Faust struggling with the thought, and ultimately, could not force himself to lie. “Yeah. T-that sounds nice.”

“Consider it done.” He snapped his fingers. The lump of his cape unfurled itself, nudging its way out of the heap of discarded clothes and fluttered out of the bedroom to find one of the Villa servants. “It should be ready in…oh, ten minutes or so, but they’ll gladly keep the water warm if you’d prefer to take a few extra minutes to yourself. The staff is paid quite handsomely to attend to our needs, so please, don’t hesitate to ask them for anything. It’s why they’re here, after all.”

While he was still rigid and uneasy, Slayer could still feel more of a sense of calm coming back to the other man. Faust was at least willing to make himself a bit more comfortable. He sank a bit more into the mattress, hands grabbing onto the pillow and blankets instead of his own arms. Still, there was a clear sense of unhappiness still in his eyes.

Cautiously, Slayer let himself approach once more. He didn’t make contact. They could exist in the same space and still maintain a sense of intimacy. As much of a romantic as he was, there was something equally enjoyable in that sort of casual air, a similar sort to be found in the sauna. Modern society wasn’t quite as prone to casual nudity as they used to be, and it was something Slayer found to be quite a shame.

Ah, his thoughts had gotten away from him again. This wasn’t about what he felt, of course not. “Stay here. Wait a few days, if you so wish. However long it takes for you to feel stable again. I’ll provide all you need. Shelter. A warm bed. A shower, a meal. Anything you may desire, I will bring.”

The despondent doctor muttered “anything?”

“Anything.”

“...shuangbaotai?”

“I’ll have the villa chef prepare a batch immediately.”

“Um, h-how about another blanket?”

The vampire leaned over and dragged another expensive-looking comforter to cover them both. “Already done.”

Through his wet hiccups, the man managed to snicker. “Wh-what about…a nightgown lined with emu feathers?”

“An errand boy can have it delivered to you posthaste,” Slayer replied, debonair facade not slipping for a moment.

“A stuffed wolpertinger?”

“Oh, I own three of them! Take your pick.”

The continued stoicism was too much to handle. Faust still felt like garbage, but he was at least at a point where he could laugh through it. “You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Slayer left a trail of kisses along his shoulders as the doctor covered his face and chortled to himself.

“God, I’m such a mess. Why do you put up with all of this?”

“Feh! What an easy question. It’s because I love you.”

“...Did you mean it? Can I really stay? It won’t bother you?”

“Of course, dear thing. I would never mind your company.”

Chapter Text

Kokonoe inspired some…conflicted feelings in the mind of her underling-slash-guinea pig-slash-caretaker-slash-whatever-was-needed. As much as he could despise her condescending attitude and dismissiveness towards him, he would never deny her brilliance. Tager respected her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t also prone to pushing him to the brink of madness, seemingly for no reason other than her own amusement. He knew the professor better than nearly anyone else, but that only managed to complicate his thoughts towards her, instead of simplifying them.

One thing was for certain- all of the lab’s Kokonoe-sized chairs were poorly suited for his gargantuan frame. Were it not for more pressing issues at hand, he would have sought out something more comfortable to sit in. Now, the faint stings across his body from where it dug into him was an afterthought.

“Initiate login, disable security protocols.” Even when spoken under his breath, his voice was deep and thrumming. “User designation TR-0009 Tager, Clearance Level B.”

The computer hummed to life. After a few moments of waiting, the screen radiated a calming blue light from the background of rolling hills that came with the startup. Tager toggled through the professor’s console. It too was not built for someone of his size. He’d gotten a bit of practice over the past few weeks. Still not enough to feel confident, but enough to not perpetually worry it was going to explode if he looked at it wrong.

“Anything new…?” He muttered, half to the computer and half to himself. Neither offered a response. Tager wished he could say that was a surprise. He’d spent far too much time doing everything shy of taking the machine apart and seeing if there was something useful stuffed in between its wiring. Kokonoe was known for her unconventional nature, he wouldn’t have put something like that past her. Trying to parse it had once been a mere source of annoyance. It was far more consequential now than he would have ever foreseen.

Tager sighed. “Activate file ‘BLACKBOXTG.MP4’ and restart from the beginning.”

A little window popped up. Tager attempted to steel himself. He’d watched it well over a dozen times already. Still, somehow, every time he did, it hit like a blow to the most delicate mechanical components of his body. Forcing himself to watch it again, then, seemed absurd.

“...There has to be something I missed.”

Maybe this would be it. Maybe this would be the time that made everything make sense.

With a single keystroke, the video file began to play. The place it displayed was familiar to him. Tager had spent plenty of time in the professor’s medical laboratory. But he was nowhere to be seen in it now. There was only Kokonoe, glowering into the camera with the same air of condescension she gave most things. Something so familiar, he never though he’d have a chance to miss it.

“Tager. If you find this, it means I fucked up. So you’re probably not gonna find it.”

If not for the grim circumstances, he would have laughed. So self-assured. It should have gone that way. The video should have been just another piece of scrapped data in Kokonoe’s digital trash bin. It just didn’t make any sense.

Kokonoe continued to commune with the camera. She reached beyond the screen’s view to adjust something. Though he squinted, Tager couldn’t make out anything of what she was doing, or at least no more than he had been able to last time. He could make out other sections of the lab, but nothing seemed out of place.

“I’m doing a solo project. Only reason I’m even recording this is for insurance. Don’t want you running around like a headless chicken as soon as you don’t have me telling you what to do constantly. I’ve been working on this for a while. Little bit of science, little bit of…” She sighed, making the static crackle. “Ars Magus, but I’ve done all my calculations, and everything should go off without a hitch.”

Even without her moment of hesitation, Tager knew the thought of using magic wasn’t something she did with enthusiasm. Kokonoe was firmly a woman of science above all else. And, though she’d never admit it, he’d gotten the impression over the years that part of her disdain for it came from the complicated emotions she held toward her mother. Her family tree was…out of sorts, to put it gently. Some things he understood, others eluded him. Several times he’d considered trying to get her to talk about it, but hesitated. Pointless as it was to wonder now, the question still struck him if it would have changed anything if he had.

Unconcerned with his thoughts, Kokonoe continued talking. “Of course I have to do this myself. Your big clunky hands would just crush everything. I gotta cut open my head, so I’m not letting you anywhere near something that delicate.”

The way she phrased it told him that she was fully trying to startle him. Wouldn’t a self-respecting scientist start with those important details? But Kokonoe seemingly never passed up a chance to mess with him. And as much as he could loathe it…it was something that had always made him feel more like a co-worker to her, and less like something subhuman, something that only existed to be poked and prodded.

“I’ve got a new theory on how to get rid of that snake bastard once and for all. Terumi gets his power from being hated. So I’m gonna make it so that I can’t hate him.”

Kokonoe pulled out a diagram that he could barely make heads or tails of, even if the recording quality wasn’t iffy to begin with. He could at least make out a detailed drawing of a skull, and several dotted lines making and cutting across it. The implications of it were clear, even if he didn’t understand the minute details. The first time he had witnessed it, a deep void of dread had opened in his gut. Even so many times later, he still felt an echo of it.

“Don’t worry about the details. I mean, I’m the scientist.” With little fanfare, Kokonoe crumpled the paper up and tossed it over her shoulder. “But I’ll spell it out simple for you. I’m going to use Ars Magus to program myself into performing self-brain surgery. With a little bit of magic and a bit of grey matter taken off in just the right spot, it should remove my capacity for hatred-” for a moment, her veneer of smugness cracked “so lucky you, you’ll probably find me a lot more charming after this.”

Tager sighed. Why did she always treat these things with levity? Did she truly never think that anything would go wrong?

Practically on cue, the recorded Kokonoe’s expression turned pensive, almost uneasy. “It’s…been a while since I’ve done any magic, but I’ll shake the rust off with enough practice.”

Kokonoe didn’t often hesitate. He wished that she’d taken that as a sign to stop this before it went too far. Before…

But she didn’t. Even if Tager hesitated, Kokonoe carried on. The camera was left running as she made a few final adjustments to whatever was beyond the screen.

“Just hope the hole doesn’t end up given’ me a bald spot. Alright, let’s get this thing moving.”

He could see something reflecting in the metal. Whatever program she had running on the console was out of sight, but echoes of it still offered Tager a secondhand glimpse. If he wasn’t careful, he could still be spellbound by it. He’d made that mistake before. Without realizing it, he would just stare into the reflections, ignoring everything else that happened. It had necessitated several rewatches now, in his attempts to decipher every detail of the video. Even now, it felt like Kokonoe playing a prank on him.

If it had such a powerful effect in mere reflections, he could hardly imagine what sort of powerful magic she’d conjured up. But who else to do it but a mind like hers?

Tager kept his focus firmly on the professor, even as her focus began to waver. He saw how it slowly wore her down. Gradually, she slipped from her posture, limbs drooping. Like her body had been left out on a hot day and began melting. With a bit more time, her face did the same, features drooping and eyes going dull. She almost looked…a bit cute. Along with her signature coat and high-prescription glasses, Kokonoe always came to the lab with a scowl. The creases it left in the corners of her eyes was one of the few things that betrayed her true age. When it all smoothed over, she looked content. Peaceful.

“Designation…Recorded Program…244-E.”

The specific designation made no sense to him. However, it did not surprise him to see Kokonoe stand up from her seat, despite appearing barely conscious. He could understand that much. Programming a person in the same way one would program a machine. Significantly more complicated, mind, but Kokonoe was of that caliber.

“Preparing area.” She announced to nobody. Kokonoe climbed onto the lab’s worktable. Whenever he reached that portion of the recording, there was still something so odd about seeing Kokonoe there. It had been built with him in mind, designed to support literal tons of weight without buckling under pressure. In comparison, she was like a sack of wheat, tiny and barely heavy enough to register as anything.

He could only look on helplessly. A tray had been prepared beforehand. Kokonoe had made all the necessary precautions, except the ones that mattered. He watched her part her hair and mechanically pick up a scalpel.

“Removing obstruction to skull.” Were there any doubt that she was putting on an act, the way that her expression remained the same as she began cutting into the skin of her scalp would have convinced anyone. She only halted to wipe a trail of blood that dribbled down her face. Until a square of flesh had been fully peeled back, she did not slow. Did not even twitch.

Kokonoe swapped the scalpel for a bone-cutter. “Creating passageway through temporal bone to reach designated area.”

Tager had to wince back. The sound of metal scraping turned his stomach. It had come to mind during more than one rewatch that it should have been nothing new for him- the professor had done plenty of work on his mechanical components, oftentimes while fully awake. But this was different. It was fine when it was happening to him.

A low sound clanged against the metal table. A chunk of bloodstained bone landed next to where she sat, forgotten for the time being. Away went the bone-cutter, to be replaced with another tool- but this one was foreign to him. Some sort of metal rod, wrapped in something. An invention of hers?

“Reach preassigned depth before preparing tool.” She murmured drowsily, dryly. “Armagus insertion into incision,” she hardly twitched upon shoving a piece of metal into the borehole.

“Kokonoe- “ Tager spoke, then held his tongue. It would do no good. It hadn’t before. It wouldn’t ever. She was just a video recording.

An electronic crackle made the recording ring with feedback. Kokonoe pressed the tool deeper. “Automatic activation in five, four, three…”

There it was.

The silence.

That horrible silence.

“Wh- shit, this isn’t-”

Tager closed his eyes, but he knew what was still playing out in front of him. If you looked away from the car crash, it didn’t make the car crash go away.

“I didn’t...” Ostensibly, her voice was as monotone as before. But Tager could swear there was a thread of panic twined into it. What must she have been feeling? Could she feel anything at all?

Like a lit sparkler, a fountain of magical blips began pouring from the spot. It was not beautiful. And the smell must have been atrocious like nothing else. He knew little about magic, but even he knew this was very wrong.

Kokonoe’s expression was frozen. The sparks made her hair stand up. Blood welled from the wound, painting long red lines down her cheek and seeping into her collar. Through the stiffness, she managed a twitch, a shudder. For what little good it did.

“But I set the parameters- “ Her voice was barely audible over the misfiring magic. Were she in her right mind, she may have been able to do something about the discharge. But the program she’d locked herself into followed rules. She hadn’t though that she would need any troubleshooting, so there was no emergency shutoff in the event that something went wrong.

Tager wondered if she had been able to see herself reflected in the monitors. If she had seen what was happening to her.

“Goddamn…armagus…”

A rogue electrical current made the electronics in the room crackle and deactivate, one-by-one until the monitor she was using for recording was the unlucky pick. The feed cut out, leaving Tager to look at his own reflection in the black screen.

After a moment, a deep sigh left him. A hand covered his face. He had pushed through another viewing, and only come away despairing. No different from the last four times. Of course he was no scientist, but shouldn’t something have caught his attention by now? Some loose thread, some missed detail?

Something faint scraped against the door. He held in the urge to sigh once more. Though his heart and body felt heavy, Tager hauled himself up from his seat and moved to the exit.

“...Hello, professor.”

“Nya-ha!” A cheery voice greeted him back. “Koko wants to play!”

As soon as the door opened, a pink blur darted in to greet him. The professor danced back and forth on all fours, pupils wide with excitement. “Wanna play! Wanna play!” She chirped, butting her head against his shin.

Tager still wasn’t sure how to act around her. A stupid part of him wanted to write the whole thing off as some kind of twisted joke. That as soon as he fell for her playing dumb act, she’d snap back to her normal self and laugh at him for being so gullible. Another part shied away from her as much as possible. Kokonoe had held full control over him, even if his composure had cracked and he’d so much as thought about attacking her, she would sidestep anything he threw at her and deactivate his limbs. Kokonoe knew how to be careful. But this…

A playful lunge sent her tumbling through his legs, landing flat on her back. Tager froze in place, unwilling to move until he was very, very certain of where she was, and that it wasn’t right underfoot where she could be stepped on. Kokonoe had never struggled with that manner of thinking before, but Tager was learning that she seemed to thoroughly lack any kind of self-preservation instinct. She’d charge right into danger if she found that danger even slightly interesting. In that regard, she perhaps wasn’t as fundamentally different as he’d thought.

“Were you sitting there the entire time?”

She looked up at him with innocent, sparkling eyes. “Koko was boooored! There’s nothin’ to do in the lab! Koko wants to play with Big Guy!” When her attempts at engagement went unreciprocated, she twisted herself between his legs again, before popping up on her hind- her legs- to try and butt her face against whatever was nearest.

“Careful, Kokonoe. Don’t want to scrape yourself on anything.” Tager raised an arm away from her, along with all the sharp edges of his gauntlets. She still had a bandage on her cheek from the last time, but it hadn’t stopped her from trying to do the same thing again. It was as though the incident had already been crowded out of her memory and forgotten entirely.

…It probably had.

She sat back on her haunches. The glasses that she had once so carefully maintained hung crooked. “Big Guuuuy!”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “What does pro- ‘Koko’ want to play today?”

Her face scrunched up. “Well, maybe Koko doesn’t wanna play with Big Guy anymore!”

“You don’t? After all that?”

“Nu-uh!” Whatever passed for a scowl on her face drooped. “You took too long! Koko’s tired now! Wanna…take a nap…”

While she yawned and pawed at her face, Tager scooped her up. “Here, Kokonoe. I’ll carry you to bed.”

“Mrph…” She huffed, rolling over in his grip. “Don’t wanna…Big guy’s comfier…”

Before he could even take a step, she’d already conked out, one arm dangling. The sigh he’d been holding in finally managed to escape. Content as she looked, dozing away in his arms, he could only frown at the sight.

Part of him wanted to hold out on hope that there was something to reverse this. He’d torn through every room of Sector Seven in search of anything useful. When that hadn’t worked, he’d done it again, scrutinizing every single nook and cranny. Read through her notes until his eyes ached, turned over every piece of data in her computers until it strained his prosthesis. There had to be something.

Tager wanted to cling onto a spark of hope, no matter how small it might’ve been. But there wasn’t a mind on earth that quite compared to Kokonoe- and now, that even included herself.

Chapter Text

Departing from earth and withdrawing from his interfering with society had, somehow, still left That Man with a packed schedule.

It was the initial reason he’d decided to dive back into his ill-advised former hobby of creating clones and replicas of the living. Despite knowing what had come from his last attempt, the act had been second nature. Asuka had hardly realized until he was already taking flesh samples and programming equipment for replication. He could only wonder what his colleagues would think of him, seeing him immediately go back to old tricks. Hard to say. Disappointment would likely be part of it, though. Disappointment in his work ethic, his inability to change…

…Ah, and there came the guilt again. He tried to shoo it away. He didn’t have a right to feel guilt. But it was an emotion that tended to find him, anyway. One of the things he’d tried to do while up here was to work on some better thought patterns. In isolation, it was easy to become trapped in looping thoughts. So he was trying to recognize when he was falling into those patterns so he could try to think about something else instead. Slow going so far, but-

If he was doing a poor enough job of distracting himself, the universe must have decided to step in. Asuka nearly fell out of his seat as a light began to flash on the wall.

“UNKNOWN VESSEL IN MOONBASE RANGE.” It declared between alarm blares. ”UNKNOWN VESSEL APPROACHING MOONBASE.”

Spacefaring ships weren’t a common sight. Little chance that its arrival was an accident. Asuka backed away from the table he’d been working at, sparing just enough time to be sure that nothing would catch fire in his absence.

He made his way to the communications hub of the moonbase. One of the clones had already set things up for his arrival, politely and silently bowing out of the room at the sight of the man who’d made him.

Sensors mounted outside the base offered him a glimpse of the arriving vessel- unknown indeed, not one he had ever seen before. Asuka picked up the microphone from its mount. He tried not to let his confusion come out as a stutter. “This is the moonbase Tír na nÓg, you are flying in a restricted airspace. Is your pilot speaking? State your ship class and intention.”

“One-man spacefaring vessel, P-Class. Requesting landing space.”

“Who is this?” He demanded. Asuka immediately cowed under his own voice, turning meek once more. “Um, who am I speaking to?”

The return static crackled almost inquisitively. “Designation: Simulation model #Kreuz E195GRD.”

He stared at the speaker grate in silence, as though the machine itself could offer him an answer. He hadn’t heard that right, had he? He couldn’t have. It just wasn’t…

The man didn’t realize he was running until the seat was left spinning behind him. Asuka rushed to greet his guest, only at the last moment remembering to hit the release switch to the bay door so his guest could actually dock. The landing bay was situated close to the communications center, but even that short run was enough to make Asuka wobbly-kneed and wheezy from the effort. It would take a minute or two for the door to open, the ship to enter, and it to dock, which he took to regain his stamina and attempt to look presentable to his arriving guest.

Once the bay door had sealed again and the space refilled with air, Asuka let himself in. The spaceship was small, by spaceship standards. Most of its size went into the layers of pressurized cabin walls and rockets to ensure it could actually get anywhere. Still big enough to require a platform to disembark. Several such mechanisms had been helpfully built into the station during its creation, with one unfurling as soon as it recognized a ship in one of the docking stations.

A door slid open on the vessel’s side. A pneumatic hiss and cloud of releasing air briefly obscured the figure standing at the ship’s entrance. The pilot passed through it without issue, waving a hand in the air in front of their face to clear away some of the obstruction.

As they neared the bay platform, Asuka found himself staring at his own face.

“Good day, creator.”

Or a similar one, at least. The mirrored image of him had a few oddities that made his eyes linger. While none of them had ever been an entirely perfect copy, and environmental factors altered it further, this still fell outside the parameters he expected. E195GRD had let his hair overgrow, untamed to the point of messiness and a few matted-looking spots amid the tangle. Deep creases had carved themselves under his one uncovered eye. Nearly every visible seam in his robe was frayed. There was an all-around unkemptness to the clone that puzzled him. Asuka could have stared all day, were it not for more pressing questions lining up in the back of his throat.

“What…what on earth are you doing here?” The figure of speech suddenly felt ironic, but there were more important things to dwell on at the moment.

The clone looked at him in complete calm, as though the answer were obscenely obvious. “Returning from my scouting mission.”

Right. Of course. Asuka knew full well what he’d initially sent his replica out to do, but “I thought…I was worried something terrible had happened to you. Your location transmitter wasn’t turning up on any scans for months, I couldn’t get a response from it anywhere. All I could assume was that you had been decommissioned in some sort of accident. Without any way to tell…”

“It was removed.” E1 carefully took off his feathered eyepatch. Where his right eye was supposed to be underneath was instead a mangled metal sinkhole of biomechanics. Something fleshy pulsated in the socket, but before Asuka could think to get a better look at the damage, the patch was put back in place. “For security reasons, of course. I did not want to risk someone recovering it and using the device as a way to track your location.”

Asuka wasn’t quite sure what he was saying, but he trusted his clone to be of a rational sort. “In either case, I’m glad to see that concern didn’t come to pass.” With his hands clasped, he approached. “Here, let me see. I’m sure I can have repairs done in a matter of-

“I’m fine.” The clone curtly cut him off. “I did not return for repairs.”

Its sharpness took him off-guard. It was strange to hear his own voice speaking in such a way. Yet another sentiment that sent shame twisting through his thoughts, wondering if that sort of curtness was something he’d inflicted upon others in the past. He was a long-lived man, surely it had happened more than once. Had he done that to Frederick? To Aria?

No, no self-pitying again. He wouldn’t allow himself. “Nonetheless, it is still good to see you again, E195- “

“Creator,” his replica said, with an intensity Asuka, once again, had not expected. “Is that strictly necessary? We are the only ones here. Surely, abbreviating my designation would be the more logical choice? It makes little sense to expend the effort.”

The man stared in silence. “Right. Of course. Nice to see you…E1.” His clone looked content with the new moniker. “Whenever you’re ready, I can take your scouting data and update it to the base’s file network.”

“Actually, creator, I have a project that I’ve been working diligently on during the course of my absence. The reason I returned was to show it to you.”

Asuka opened his mouth, then shut it. Had he heard that right? None of the units he’d sent prior had come back with something like that. What about this one had been different? Did something about it spontaneously manifest a sense of independence? What a thought! He’d never imagined such a thing.

Damn the scouting data. If one of his creations had developed a sense of initiative and creativity, of course he would be the first in line to witness it. “O-of course! What is it? What do you have?”

E1 raised a hand. “I am not surprised by your answer. Please, wait here. I have it on my ship. If you’ll allow me a moment to retrieve it for you…”

He turned away and moved back toward the docked ship, raggedy robes swishing with his steps. Asuka wondered if he himself walked that way, or if it was some habit that this unit had developed from interacting with other humans. For the few clones he had sent out and had returned already, that was always a fascinating thing to parse. His replicas often needed to interact with humans in order to complete their tasks, so it was only natural. Everyone was influenced by their environment in some way or another. Even animals. Even clones. They’d return to the base with new figures of speech, or odd habitual quirks, or knowledge that Asuka himself wasn’t familiar with. Though he had his worries about their lack of experience and general naivete towards existence getting his duplicates into trouble while on earth, most of them had had enough sense, or luck, to avoid any serious worries.

While lost in thought, he hardly noticed E1’s return, nor his new, sheet-covered luggage.

“Creator.”

Asuka returned his attention to his artificial progeny. “Ah- forgive me, E1. I was lost in thought, I-”

“Rationale is irrelevant. I simply wish for you to have enough focus to admire my work’s intricacies.”

“Right, right, of course.” He gestured to the sheet. “Well, let’s see it, then.”

With a little flick of the wrist that he must have learned somewhere, E1 did as he was told, removing the covering with flourish.

Asuka’s smile immediately overturned. The weight of it tugged his mouth open.

“I…? What…Who-”

Happy Chaos was kneeling before him. But it took far too many moments to realize he recognized the man at all. The only word coming to mind was ‘wrong.’ Though his former teacher had already become distorted and corrupted from how Asuka had known him before the war, this was a further twist, into something somehow even more unrecognizable from his old self.

Chaos’ navy-blue flesh had gone pale and washed out, but as opposed to looking more humanlike, it only succeeded in making him resemble a cold, dead cadaver. The long scars painting lines through his skin didn’t help. Like the clone currently holding the tarp, he had a level of unkemptness even beyond what he could expect from Chaos, his dark lenses split with hairline cracks and a single horn chipped. What the hell had happened to him??

“May I introduce my most successful specimen.” E1 gestured down to the…thing at his side. “I have taken to calling him ‘Harley,’ though he also responds to ‘pet’ and ‘whore.’ You may use whichever pleases you.”

Asuka merely looked on in slack-jawed bafflement. Chaos had a similar expression, vision blurry and unfocused. Belatedly, the realization hit that his former teacher had not a stitch of clothing on him, and currently sat naked on the moonbase floor.

E1 sighed. “Ah, Creator, you still seem nervous while socializing. Allow me to acquaint you two.” He clapped his hands. “Harley, this is Master’s creator. Greet him the way I taught you to.”

As soon as the order was given, Chaos shuddered to life, with a rickety smile winding up the sides of his cheeks. “Whatever you say.”

That Man, still frozen in confusion, merely watched. His former mentor limply crawled over to him. The thought briefly crossed Asuka’s mind that E1 had done something to damage his legs as well, to force him to crawl like a beggar. Yet Chaos looked positively delighted, if not the slightest bit lucid. He fumbled against Asuka’s shin, his own two wrapping around in a motion the mage desperately tried not to view as a dog dry-humping a human’s leg.

“Haha,” E1 gave a dry chuckle of amusement. “A bit forward, pet, but I expect nothing less. Not to worry, creator, it means he likes you.”

This wasn’t any sort of ‘like’ that he was familiar with. That wasn’t something that usually involved someone drunkenly grabbing at his clothes. It took Asuka several moments before he realized the sloppy tugs were trying to accomplish something. Chaos was attempting to strip him of his vestments.

“Wh- what are you doing?! Get off of me!” Asuka frantically attempted to shove the man away. “Master, what on earth has gotten into you?!”

Chaos sat back on his haunches, hands still half-curled in a grabbing motion. He blinked slowly. “What…?” he said, tone soft and just as disoriented as his appearance. “‘Master?’ But…Master is right there! How can Harley be…”

E1 clicked his teeth. “Oh, careful, creator. Don’t go using that word with him. You'll confuse his tiny little brain. He’s not as skilled at that ‘higher cognition’ nonsense as he used to be. Very agreeable, though.”

While Asuka looked at them in aghast befuddlement, E1 put a hand on the kneeling man’s head. Even without words, the gesture appeared mocking. “Ignore him, Harley, the man is just being stupid. Don’t worry about what he says, just listen to Master, alright?”

The words barely had to leave his mouth before Chaos was purring against the clone’s hand again. “Heehee…Ohkaaaaay…”

There was a similar mocking aura to the copy’s smile. “He’s much more palatable like this, isn’t he? Or at the very least, more preferable.”

A single golden eye zipped back and forth between E1 and Chaos. “Palatable?! Preferable?!” Spittle flew from Asuka’s lips. “Are you insane?”

“I see…are my results unsatisfactory?”

The man spluttered. “Calling this a failure is the least I could say!” Asuka grimaced at the sight of a dark patch on the leg of his hakama. He didn’t need to look at Chaos’ naked cock dripping on the floor to tell him that it wasn’t a sweat stain, but it was easier to pretend if he kept his eyes elsewhere.

While his head was being patted, Happy Chaos had begun panting like a dog. His gaze was too empty to even near the idea of shame at how he was drooling. How could this be his former master? The father of magic, reduced to some brain-dead puppet?

Anger and bewilderment fought for dominance in Asuka’s thoughts. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?!”

The clone slowly tilted his head. “For what?”

“What have you done to him? Why is he…like this?!” He watched Chaos try to repeat the same gesture as before, sleepily gripping at E1’s clothes in an attempt to take them off of him.

“Running around as a half-clothed madman, was that not enough debasement? Harley, no touching. Sit.” As effortless and offbeat as shooing away an insect, E1 backhanded Chaos across the cheek. That small amount of force was still enough to send the man tumbling onto his back. But all the while, the noises he made were very clearly those of enjoyment, and his unclothed cock twitched from his ‘master’s’ mere touch. “I’ve trained him. It took quite the deal of patience, and a bit of hypnotic magic for emphasis, but he’s become quite the natural.”

’Hypnosis?’ Were he not currently looking at what was in front of him, That Man would have assumed it was some twisted attempt at a joke. Even for the few who believed it was something that existed, that form of ‘magic’ was viewed as nothing more than a stupid party trick. What sort of questionable materials had his clone managed to find on earth? And how had he even managed to use them?!

At his continued lack of approval, E1’s face slid into a frown. “I do not understand. I did not perform my work on a civilian. I have not made a victim of someone who did not deserve it. And, I quite assure you, he is significantly happier like this. He could come from merely being struck- not that I would allow him to so easily, but he could. I have him under complete control. He does not even stand without my permission. No longer will the world have to fear the threat of Happy Chaos. He has found a new place, a happier place, as the whore-mutt at my feet.”

Every word he spoke only made it clearer and clearer to Asuka that he had made something terrible. He reeled back. “No. No, this- this is awful, this is perverted beyond all reason. This whole project was a mistake. I should have known better than to do something like this, I should’ve- !”

“I see that look in your eyes, creator.” E1 began to scratch Chaos beneath the chin, looking more and more like a dog with every gesture. “You want to decommission me. Decommission the fruits of my creative labors. Why? Why are you so taken aback by my work?”

“How could I not? How could I possibly have any other reaction to such an abject failure??”

“I believe you are the failure in this scenario, creator. Despite your claims of good intentions, you have failed to act on them. I have no such hesitation. I took the initiative. I did what was necessary. I have rehabilitated him.”

“This isn’t rehabilitation! This is madness!”

“He was already mad. All I did was take that madness and rework it into something useful.” E1 shrugged, unbothered. Chaos whimpered and sighed at a pair of fingers being shoved into his open mouth. “That’s what I returned to show you, creator. I had hoped you would express more pride in my sense of initiative. Instead, I only find myself disappointed. I was designed with a mind that gravitates toward the most logical and straightforward options in a given scenario. I do not understand your adverse reaction. I am merely following the parameters you made me with.”

No, Asuka didn’t buy that for a second. This was far beyond simple programming. This was cold, calculated cruelty.

Cruelty born from his own flesh and blood. Even if he hadn’t crafted these circumstances himself, he was the one that had allowed them to happen. His clones were all derived from him. It had to mean that, in the right circumstances, he himself was capable of such depravity. All it took to bring that monstrousness out of him would be a few wrong choices and the wrong set of circumstances.

He ran. It was the only choice he could think to make. The moment it was within reach, Asuka slammed the emergency locking mechanism into place. Magic-resistant metal panels folded out to cover the door, wall, and any nearby spaces that the loading bay could have connected to, only leaving a tiny slit through the door’s window to peer through.

Muffled footsteps approached the door. Rather than a slamming fist or a blast of magic, there was only a polite knocking.

“So it seems,” E1’s voice, like his steps, were muted, but audible still, “you’ve picked the option you’re most fond of, when it comes to dealing with your problems. Running away.”

“You’re corrupted,” Asuka replied, shocked at the raggedness of his own voice.

“I only have within me what you put there. You created me, shouldn’t you know that? Does your sense of denial run so deeply?”

“Shut up!”

Something in his chest hurt. Though he knew E1 couldn’t see him, he hesitated in putting a hand to the spot. His free hand felt for the other emergency latch, the one that would throw the bay doors wide open.

“What will you do then, Asuka? Throw open the airlock? Depressurize the bay? Would you still be so morally superior after you’ve killed me? Or are such actions only forgivable when you do them?”

“SHUT UP!!”

“Hmph…”

E1 turned away, regarding the altercation with as much indifference as everything else. His Harley sat obediently where he’d been left, visibly resisting the urge to drag his hips against the floor for friction. It wasn’t often that he went for so long without some sort of relief. Maintaining their punishment-and-reward system was necessary, even with Chaos so deeply under his sway. And besides, after their failure, it would feel nice to release a bit of pressure.

“Harley, you were very good for Master. Do you know what that means?”

A hint of lucidity surfaced in his muddled eyes. “Reward?”

“Hmm. So you can be smart sometimes.” He gave his companion a condescending pat on the head.

As he did, threads of magical energy slithered out from the folds of his battered robes. His first few attempts, back when he was still getting the hang of that school of magic, had left his clothes burnt and messied. Now, he made it look effortless. Everything was perfectly tailored to his pet’s size and build. Chaos was left suspended from the ceiling, perfectly eye-to-eye with his superior despite his feet being off the ground. The first few minutes of adjustment often gave him the most exquisite squirms as his pet tried to settle down. Like an uneasy puppet- a puppet that would grow comfortable with its place of servitude.

A firmer thread looped around the man’s throat and dug itself into one ear. Found the hole that had been left. Pushed right on through to the inner contours of his skull. A current of magical electricity traveled along its length to deliver its load right into the soft, spongy mass.

E1 put a pair of fingers under his subject's chin to tilt it. “Up, Harley. I need to see whatever functioning grey matter you have left.”

Enough zaps in the right places made the pathways flow properly. The naked man’s eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled back in his skull. When he finally slumped into his restraints, those misty eyes had returned to a striking silver.

Muscles all over his body errantly twitched, trying to process the signals. “Did he like it? Does he wanna be our third after all?” His voice crackled like a broken radio.

Slowly, E1 shook his head. “Of course not. To my disappointment, he was just as sanctimonious as I had believed him to be, after all. No respect for my work, nor my breed of ambition. Our meeting here was unsuccessful overall.”

Chaos snickered. “Heh. Always knew Asuka was a prude, through ‘n through-”

He yelped. A sharp-ended tendril speared the back of his neck, driving itself into the mechanical piece E1 had implanted there before their first ‘discussion.’ The moment it was touched, the device whirred to life, and it busied itself doing its job of drenching his nervous system with a cocktail of magic and aphrodisiacs.

“Quiet. Your thoughts on the matter were not asked for.”

“I th-thought- !”

Between the sudden hypnotic rush and the restraints around every limb, Chaos had no other choice to just sit and let a pale fist connect with his face. His head jerked back with a wet crunch.

“Do not ‘think.’ Your purpose is not to think. It is to obey.” E1 looked down at his hand. The knuckles had split, blood welling in the cracks. “Now look at what you’ve done. How unseemly. You aren’t just going to leave this, are you? Clean up your mess, whore.”

“Uh…uh…ohkaaaay…” A forked tongue lolled out of his mouth, lapping at the wound as soon as it came within range. His dull eyes practically spiraled, body overwhelmed by the sheer amount of chemicals and artificial pheromones flooding his system. With the degree of control E1 had over his bodily functions, any sense of tolerance he’d built up was always reset. What point would there be in drugging something that felt none of its wondrous effects? E1 preferred the simplicity. Harley, of course, preferred whatever his master preferred, so it suited him fine.

The clone’s expression creased upon noting how much enjoyment the other man was already getting out of this. He took a half-step back to avoid having his clothing stained. “One of these days, I ought to properly castrate you. Pity, all of my tools are at home.”

“Sorry…Master…”

“No matter. Perhaps we can make something of it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll forgive you for that, if you don’t come. If you have enough self-control, that means I can trust you. Does that sound like a deal?”

He punctuated the question with a carefully-metered dose of hypnotics. Even if Harley didn’t nod, the whole-body twitches were close enough.

E1 withdrew a latex glove from one pocket, pulling it on with his teeth. While Harley continued sucking on the wound, he positioned himself behind the man’s back and let his covered hand rest on his hip.

“Keep going, pet. Don’t stop until I tell you.” The rubbery material made a strange noise from being dragged along sweaty skin. E1 immediately noticed the man’s cock reacting to the feel and sound. “Up-pup-pup! Control, remember?”

“C...control…”

“Good.” Fingers fanned along the meat of his bare thigh. ”Let’s see how far you’ve gotten with the chair.”

A pity that Asuka had only gotten a good look at the front. The two of them had experienced far more success on the opposite end. Enough practice and diligence had loosened the ring of muscle to a much more agreeable state. E1 wouldn’t debase himself by putting anything valuable or important in there, but he couldn’t help but marvel at how much his subject could take. Conventional toys didn’t make a dent anymore.

E1 hardly put the effort in to move slowly, or to gradually increase the intensity. All he needed to know was that it wouldn’t injure his hand. With that worry assuaged, he shoved his fist inside, right up to the wrist.

Harley screamed, a full-lunged sound wrenched from his chest, even through all the pleasant sensations he’d already been experiencing. His master had mapped out the minutiae of his body, and that included knowing exactly where his prostate was.

Chaos did nothing more than obey the demands of his oversexed body and the orders that had been trained into him. His body took his master’s hand like it had been built for nothing else. He rolled his hips and pushed back against the intrusion, not in an attempt to force it out but to coax it deeper into his guts. A thought crossed the clone’s mind to get a mirror for next time, to see if he’d be able to make out the contours of his fist through the muscle wall from the front.

In trying to see for himself, E1 only managed to see that, despite his promise, Harley was still letting his enjoyment show. Sighing, the man pulled back his drool-coated hand and grasped his partner’s shaft until the external pressure made it stop twitching.

“Control, Harley, control…” He tutted, pushing his fist in further and further past the wrist. Had he gone this far before? It didn’t matter. Any damage he left could be fixed. Unlike his creator, the replica knew how to clean up his own mistakes.

E1 wasn’t sure if his creator was still listening. Asuka’s nature as a voyeur may or may not have overrode his sense of disgust. He didn’t much care either way. If he was, E1 merely hoped he would learn something from it.

Chapter Text

Eternal dusk painted the outer walls of Castle Alucard in pale moonlight. In the times where she departed and returned to her home, Rachel would often admire the sight. She wished she were in the mood for such amusements. It would serve as a much better use of time. Plenty other, more productive options stood, ready for the taking if she were to ever stop staring at a half-empty teacup.

A measured sigh slipped through her lips. Nago stirred at her feet, but lowered his head when no order was given. There was nothing that a creature of his caliber could help with. Not with this.

More and more unexpected players had joined them on stage, bringing their own desired alterations to the script. Terumi had been her focus of concern before, but now, Rachel found her focus splitting between several actors. An observer’s role was to observe, of course, but she was not omniscient. Keeping tabs on so many elements at play was draining. That flamboyant troupe leader, and the woman in the cloak…letting either slip by was a risk she couldn’t allow to happen.

Even then, something more nagged at her conscience. Something more personal. It wasn’t someone like Terumi that left Rachel so deeply vexed. There would be no need to sit in the foyer and stare disinterestedly at her typically-beloved tea. Terumi was an ordinary worry. Were it an ordinary day (as ordinary as it could be for an Alucard) Rachel would have long retreated to her quarters until the morn. And yet…

Without turning her head, she caught sight of the castle butler dusting sconces. Valkenhayn. Devoted, loyal Valkenhayn. Rachel had never met any man so proficient at housekeeping. There were times she’d forgotten he had even been a hunter-for-hire. Even a mere flick of the wrist was elegant, tidying dust off of Clavis’ old belongings. Though they had sat in the same place on the shelves for years, Valkenhayn’s meticulous cleaning made each and every one of them look as new as the day they’d been made.

Rachel toyed with her drink, tracing the swirling handle with one finger. She didn’t often allow herself to think of her absent father. Wasting time ruminating on the past was something he hadn’t encouraged. Even ones as powerful as they were not impervious to the cold grasp of death. Clavis had made that quite clear to her, if not through words, than through the way his face grew gaunter over the years and his frame turned slight. It was simply the natural order of things.

Still, beneath her upturned nose and aloof veneer, there were many times that she thought of her father, and missed him dearly.

Perhaps he would have been able to solve this concern better than she.

Realizing her gaze was lingering, Rachel turned back to the fire.

Though difficult enough to handle these new intrusions, at least she knew they were of no personal matter to her. Not so for Valkenhayn. Many faces from his past had begun resurfacing lately, most very unwelcome. It was taking a clear mental toll on him. As vehemently as he’d insisted everything was fine, Rachel had been around the man for enough time that she could see the blatant untruth of it. Unease had come to nestle itself into his weathered features, tugging the crow’s feet and worry lines even deeper into his skin. When lit by the firelight, ripples of shadow streaked his cheeks. He had no need to say he was stressed. His face gave everything away.

She wondered how to broach the subject. Ultimately, a straightforward approach felt most appropriate.

“Valkenhayn.” Said Rachel. “It’s quite late, isn’t it?”

“Mmm?” Her butler’s eyes flicked up from the shelf he was dusting, but the sweeping never ceased.

“I’d have assumed you would have gone to bed.”

“Ah.” He said. The man’s head dipped in a half-nod. “Of course, Miss Rachel. I have every intention to…but I simply must attend to the housekeeping first.”

“The castle will not crumble to ruin if you miss a dust bunny.”

He half-chuckled rather unconvincingly. “I am simply doing the usual evening routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

If this was the typical routine, that only told her more of what she already knew. Most nights, Valkenhayn would have been long finished. Whether it be exhaustion, distraction, or something else, he wasn’t behaving like himself. Something was definitely bothering him.

Rachel let her frown show itself. “I’m certain someone else could finish the remainder of your work.”

“When I’m so close to being finished?” He laughed again, or tried, before pausing to cough into his sleeve.

“Valkenhayn?”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “Just dust.”

The frown turned into a scowl. Even as an old man, the werewolf was stubborn. There had to be some way to get him to relax and unwind. If she told him that to his face, he would never do it, but…

Rachel caught sight of her reflection in the teacup. Or, rather, the lack of it. That was something she was used to, yet something about the sight of her black and red ribbons floating in the air made her ponder. Was that the key? If she couldn’t make him relax as his employer, perhaps she could still find a way as a vampire.

Arcane energy pulsed beneath her skin, stirring itself deep into flesh. She hadn’t done this in quite some time, but it still came naturally. The flow of magic thinned her pupils to slits.

“Valkenhayn,” Rachel spoke again.

“Yes, miss- ?”

When he caught her eyes, he froze. Any desire or ability to break eye contact was pulled away from his grasp. A stab of guilt struck her at the sight. Rachel sighed, telling herself that it would all be for a good cause. “Valkenhayn. Is that the flesh that’s most comfortable to you?”

He hesitated for a moment, visibly struggling to process the order and offer an answer. “I suppose not.”

“Then why do you still wear it?”

‘Slave Red.’ Such a crass name. True, she had been known to use it as the word implied, enthralling the unwilling into giving her the information she needed. Still, she would deny that it lacked a more altruistic use all the same. When one was too stubborn or reluctant to put down work and recuperate, it served well as a last resort.

In his moment of disorientation, the duster fell from Valkenhayn’s hands. Rachel summoned Silpheed with a flick of one wrist to carry the implement away before it could even hit the ground. Rising from her seat, she approached the old man, allowing only the faintest look of concern to permeate her stoic face. She knew Valkenhayn could read her almost as well as she did him.

“Would shedding your skin make you more comfortable, Valkenhayn? Would it make you more relaxed?”

“I…I suppose…it would…” he murmured, sclera tinting with every word.

Not all were vulnerable to it. Beastkin and werewolves had a bit of natural resistance over everyday humans, but Rachel knew her manservant’s mental passageways inside and out. When she needed it, the task was simple. A mere pulled thread to unravel the tapestry.

“You ought to change then, yes? No point being uncomfortable in your own home, is there?”

“I…suppose…”

As he tried to speak, Rachel noted how his jaw began to shift. The bone slowly narrowed and stretched forward, her sensitive ears picking up on the slightest sound of cracking under the layer of flesh.

It had taken Valkenhayn some number of decades to perfect the shift between skins. He made it look effortless in battle. But it didn’t take away the fundamental fact that it was an ugly, uncomfortable process. A man turning into something distinctly not man-shaped meant his body had to warp and twist and break and heal into something new altogether.

Rachel helped him through it, stroking his back and humming reassurances, with her lilting accent almost turning it into a song of sorts. Coarse fur sprouted beneath her touch. She tousled it, soothing the itch of its sudden growth.

“There, there,” Rachel said, “just rest.”

Valkenhayn sank to his hands and knees, groaning in discomfort. A lurching jerk sent a narrow plume of flesh out from the base of his spine. The transformation was not a smooth one, nor was it consistent. Pieces of his body morphed and twisted almost at random. Fur appeared in checkering patches, one lupine ear stretched out before the other, and the upper set of jaws extended twice as far from his face as the lower struggled to match.

“Aaaaaah- “ A breathy voice folded inward on itself, shifting down as it filtered through a beast’s throat.

Rachel plucked away pieces of formalwear as they tore into uselessness. She paid it no mind. Money was no object. They could be replaced. The only issue it presented was a mess to be tidied. Valkenhayn made no effort to push her away, even as she began gripping one of his half-transformed forepaws to undo the buttons and unpin the cufflinks. They would tear through with enough force, same as the rest, but the force of having his legs constricted could pinch rather severely until the fasteners gave way. Once-polished shoes were left abandoned on the floor, now much too large for a dog’s hindpaws. The only piece of cloth left intact from his suit was a long pink ribbon. It had remained tied to his hair as it spouted into a full mane along his back, bright against a backdrop of muted hues.

A massive grey wolf stood framed by the castle fireplace. He whimpered in shame, head lowered in submission and tail wrapped around his legs. Such a demeanour more resembled a cowardly, browbeaten mutt than the noble specimen of wolfhood that he was. Valkenhayn rarely showed this sort of behavior to anyone, let alone the lady he served.

Still, Rachel kept her voice soft and touch gentle. “It’s perfectly alright. You know I’m used to seeing you like this.”

Valkenhayn gave a puppyish whine as her hands found a strained muscle and started to knead the stress out of it. His ears flattened against his head in discomfort, only perking up again once the ache started to soften.

“There, there,” Rachel murmured once more, scritching a spot by the base of his neck. “You mustn’t overtax yourself like this. You are not as young as you used to be, and your joints can only take so much.”

He still had enough awareness to huff in reply. Rachel stroked his mane in a silent gesture of apology. “I only mean that you should be gentler with yourself. You’re family, dear Valkenhayn. I shudder at the thought of anything happening to you.” There was only a momentary pause as she glanced over her shoulder. “Nago, Gii. Get the box.”

“Right away, princess!” Her servants padded and fluttered off to Valkenhayn’s sleeping quarters.

Though he would never admit it, he kept a small array of paraphernalia more suited to dogs than humans. Rope toys for tug-of-war. Squeaky animals. Tennis balls. Its place ‘hidden’ underneath his bed was something his lady had found years ago. For the most part, though, she’d left it where it was, and not spoken a word of it to him. There was no need. No point in humiliating the man.

A soft cardboard thump and a faint gasp of air told her that the task had been handled. “Very well. Quicker than I’d expected.”

“I’m super fast all the time, princess!” Gii objected.

“Shh,” it seemed that the situation had even softened her usual callousness toward her familiars. Her retaliation came out as a gentle chastisement rather than harsh degradation. “If you can’t use an indoor voice, then remove yourselves.”

“R-right. Sorry…” Gii squeaked, rendered quiet more by his shock than anything else. Choosing not to push their luck, the two slunk off to elsewhere in the castle.

The lady of the house went back to her work. While one hand continued its task of rubbing the old wolf’s aches away, the other sifted through Valkenhayn’s box of things. Rachel knew his favorite. From the little menagerie, she plucked a battered simulacrum of a duck. As soon as it was placed between his forepaws, Valkenhayn began to gnaw on its beak. While he never stopped being truly human at his core, once he was allowed to display his wolfish appearance, it was easier to slip into a dog’s mindset, as well. And dogs had far simpler wants and needs than an old man haunted by his century-plus of life. With a warm, cozy place to nap, a toy to play with, and a hand to stroke its back, a dog was content.

The werewolf yawned as Rachel reached around to scritch his chin. “Good boy. Good dog. Very, very good dog.”

His bushy tail whisked back and forth across the floor, stirring dust and old crumbs. Human Valkenhayn would have fussed and fretted over the mess, but dog Valkenhayn only worried about finding the comfiest position to take a nap in. Which, as luck would have it, was right about where he was splayed out right now, warm by the fire.

How funny…she was quite partial to the idea, herself.

Rachel didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until the tickle of fur against her nose woke her up. Instinctively, her face scrunched, and a litany of insults began brewing at the thought of Nago daring to tease her while she was unconscious. Rather than her familiar, however, she opened her eyes to find herself draped along her manservant’s fluffy back.

A heavy yawn slithered up her throat. She wasn’t often tired. She didn’t often rest. Vampire physiology freed her from many mundanities of the mortal world, and even then, there was often too much to contend with as an Observer to close for eyes. How disgraceful of her. Of course none of her servants would ever think to berate her, but surely there were other obligations she could have taken the time to deal with? How much could Terumi have done in her time spent distracted?

Valkenhayn chuffed in his sleep, one leg kicking before it went still. The vampire realized after a moment’s distraction that the sight had put a smile on her face.

Curling into the wolf’s soft underbelly, Rachel let sleep take her again. Neither of them had anywhere to be. Perhaps a few more minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Chapter Text

See, now this was how you had a good night out. Music thumping, lights flashing, pretty people of every kind, and enough booze to kill an entire cavalry’s worth of horses. If the strobing and alcohol didn’t wreck your brain hard enough that you completely forgot how to think, then there were plenty of gorgeous strangers willing to give you a distraction.

Johnny was about 90% sure that the alcohol was the culprit. Then again, he was never really a math guy. Whatever. Thinking was for nerds. Why waste the opportunity to introduce himself to some fine specimens? It wasn’t like he’d come to party just to sit and philophosophise. Philosize? Philso…whatever. Words with that many syllables were for sober-Johnny, and he’d tapped out for the night.

Still, a casanova had to know when to pounce. Despite the energy of the bar, he stayed seated, sipping whiskey at a slow-enough speed to make it look casual. His eyes roved over the occupants, taking special note of the ones that came in and out. He wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was just the motion. Something kept drawing his attention to the door, despite how far across the room it was.

His diligence was rewarded. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been looking, but the moment they set foot in the door, Johnny knew he’d found tonight’s lucky number. Long legs, limber, with heels. Hard to tell with the distance, but even without the heels, probably taller than him. A stranger in all-black, skirting the dance floor with elegant, swishing steps. Definitely a looker.

He watched as they approached the bar, waving at someone else seated nearby. Their shoulders jumped with a laugh. It automatically struck him with a sense of envy. He had no clue what that dime-a-dozen putz had said, but Johnny knew he could’ve said it twice as well without trying.

He waited until their current conversation petered out and their associate excused himself, probably to the bathroom. Once there was a gap, Johnny sidled up to the empty seat, putting on his best roguish smile.

“Well, heya, doll-face. You seem a little upscale for a place like this.”

A few moments passed before they even acknowledged his existence. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.” Whether they actually had or not, he needed to keep a handle on the mood. “Pretty thing like you in a dump like this? Musta’ got the wrong directions.”

“I try not to limit myself to particular venues. I find it’s good to be open-minded.” They replied

“Just showin’ off the merchandise?” He smirked. “To such an unappreciative audience?”

It got a little titter out of them, gentle and husky. “Am I hearing some implications, Country Boy? I just come here for the drinks and a casual atmosphere. Are you saying there’s some interest in ‘appreciating’ me?”

Jackpot. He’d gotten his foot in the door. “Hard not to. You got the sorta face folks write songs about.”

“That’s some bold claims. Alright, I can humor you. Let me hear what you’ve got.”

Johnny threw up a hand. “Well, it’ll take me a while to think up some good lyrics. ‘Til then, though, how do ya feel about a drink to help ya wait?”

A drink?” The stranger repeated.

“Unless you wanna dance first?” He smirked. Either way worked for him. Johnny was an off-the-cuff sorta guy, he knew how to take most situations and spin them into a hookup opportunity.

Instead, the stranger reclined further into their barstool. A flash of light from the dance floor illuminated their pale cheek and an eye, heavily done in black makeup. He caught them sending a disparaging look toward his half-finished whiskey glass.

“I suppose I can’t say no to one drink.”

One was enough. Neither of them had to be wasted to have a good time, it just helped things. He leaned forward, brows shifting above his dark lenses. “Whattaya feel like?”

They didn’t react, instead merely crossing one leg over the other. A milk-pale slit of skin teased the room as the stranger’s clothing settled. Johnny thought for a moment. “Nah, lemme guess…dry martini?” The long skirt said ‘classy,’ but the almost-as-long slit up the side said ‘with a playful side.’

Though they didn’t laugh, he caught the end of a smile. “Good guess. Usually that’s my sort of thing, but I think I’m in the mood for something a little more exciting tonight.”

‘Exciting,’ huh? He liked the sound of that. Johnny was getting the feeling they were on the same wavelength. “And what’s your idea of ‘exciting?’ Somethin’ with a bite more bite? Bit more flavor?”

“Hmm…Well, I think I’d prefer a strawberry daiquiri.”

He opened his mouth to reply. Instead, his jaw went slack.

Through the heated chaos of the party, a single droplet of ice-cold struck his skull. The shock of it knocked any sense of clarity right out of him.

In an attempt to speak, all that spilled forth was a wheeze, as though he’d just run for miles with a brick tied to either foot. How- hadn’t he been fine just a moment ago? What was happening? Did they have something to do with this?

Thanks to the sudden instability in his thoughts, he had no sense to realize things were worsening until it crashed over him with full force. He was thrown back, pitched with such a force his feet left the ground and never found it again.

The strobing slowed. Slices of the illumination turned sparse. Johnny was falling. From where, and to where, both empty spaces waiting to be answered. He had the feeling that they wouldn’t be anytime soon. Some part of him knew that he was falling slowly, but that was instinct more than rationality. What was there to base it off of? The few flashes of light showed him nothing- oh, almost nothing. The light itself, it never went anywhere. Not a flashing, but a ripple. A heartbeat in the smooth, black walls of the void. Maybe it was his own, pounding in his ears. He thought to run his fingers along it, but everything felt too laggard and heavy to even try. All he could manage was letting himself be dragged to wherever this stranger wanted him to be.

Johnny didn’t mind. Minding took too much effort.

Eventually, he landed on something soft. Hard to make out much detail, but it was soft enough that he knew he hadn’t just keeled over on the dance floor. He must’ve been dragged off somewhere. Maybe there was a hotel next door. He should have known, he’d been here plenty of times before. He knew the street layout. Yet trying to recall any of it only came back with blank spaces in his thoughts. Shit, how drunk was he?

Something a darker shade of black brushed by, ink in the dusk. A tiny speck of silver twinkled. “You know I hate to scold you.”

Familiar enough, though not quite enough to place a name. Something was standing in the way. A bouncer stationed in his own train of thought. He didn’t remember them being there. He didn’t remember much at all.

“Are you listening to a word I say?”

He turned. That he could move at all astounded him, but turning to the voice was so easy. It was all he had in the void, he’d cling to it for all he had. Yet the relief was brief. Latching on, trying to crawl from the muck and find stability, how ironic it did the opposite. A chilly sensation, one he felt from crawling out of a warm lake during a cool day. The once-soothing wind now biting against his exposed skin. A contradiction of sensation sent his thoughts further into incoherency. Stability for discomfort, numbness for aimlessness.

“I really do hate to scold you,” the voice had him by the hair, tugging upwards until he head was forced above the surface, uncaring of how he gasped and spluttered. “But how many times must I tell you not to drink so excessively?”

Amid the nerves alight and the burning of his eyes, a smidge of recognition permeated his brain. Testament, that was Testament’s voice.

“Tes…?”

Pale shapes coalesced in the darkness, so close to something clear and tangible. He swore he could make out their face somewhere within it. And it was…disappointed.

“It doesn’t matter if your girls have grown, you still need to be a present father figure. You can’t simply bury your sorrows in drink. You need some sort of positive outlet for your emotional struggles.”

Oh. Right. That was right.

The bridal shower for Dizzy’s upcoming wedding. May had talked her into having it be a girl’s-only affair. Johnny had laughed it off and waved his girls away for a night of drinks and dancing. But the one-two punch of being excluded from his daughter’s own celebration and having the entire ship to himself had soured his mood in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He was enough of a man that he didn’t want to raise a fuss about things, but, well…after being a single father of at least eight kids at a time for nearly two decades, it made for one hell of an empty nest.

Morose and moping from the loneliness of it, Testament had taken pity on his sorry state and brought up an idea for a fun new way to spice up the evening. The drinking hadn’t been part of the script, but, well, he was a partier by nature, only natural it would slip in.

The thought of another drink caught his focus for only the briefest of moments, but it wasn’t a strong enough lure. His brain was soft and laggard, like the wavering trickles of consciousness of a too-early morning wakeup. The beckoning of the day just couldn’t compare to the warm lull of rolling over and dozing off again.

“I wanna be down, Tes, pu’ me down…”

Their echoing voice chuckled with a sense of satisfaction. “So I suppose you aren’t just stroking my ego when you say I’m 'irresistible.'"

“Don’ wanna…don’ wanna think…”

That dizzy, dropping sensation tickled the back of his skull. The calm numbness enveloped his grey matter and smothered away his frayed worries. He knew who was there now. He didn’t need anything else. Didn’t want anything else.

“Don’t…wanna…” A prickle against his neck made his eyes flutter and roll back.

“Well, it isn’t that I’m not trying my best, I don’t usually have so much trouble. I hadn’t thought of you as having such a resilient mind. You never seemed…” Even without looking at their face, he could hear Testament’s smirk. “...particularly intellectual.”

What should be a blow to his ego instead goes directly to his dick. He’s so used to being the casanova that women swoon over and fall into the arms of, that having someone bite back was a thrill he’d been missing out on for ages.

“M’not…” Johnny tried to speak up, to offer a retort, but right now his tongue was working as well as the rest of him.

The failed effort only made Testament chuckle. “How cute. How pathetic. Do you need some kind of release? Is that it? Is that the secret? Are you so pent-up that it makes all sense leave your thick skull?”

It was all on purpose. He knew they were goading him, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to supply a rational answer. An inevitable humiliation, but he’d take the bruises to his pride, especially when it felt so good to have someone press against them with such precise ferocity.

Boots clicked someplace in the distance. Scarlet lights danced over his head. “Is physical pleasure the only thing that can keep you from thinking so much? Is the only way to distract yourself drinking your brain cells to death and finding something to fuck?”

In the velvet echo of their voice, the word sounds impossibly filthy. He’d be ashamed, if shame wasn’t even more of a turn-on right now. The only thing that was currently keeping him from jerking it entirely to their insults was the fact that his arms were dead weight.

“Humans like you, you’re hardly above animals. See, I don’t hate humans, not anymore, but when I see ones like you, I almost understand why I did. That’s all you want, just something to satisfy your base instincts. Something to fulfill your piddling primate brains.”

“Please-” the pirate moaned in desperation. “Just…want…you.”

They didn’t even laugh. The closest he got was a derisive little sniff.

“If you want that so badly, you could have just asked earlier…Must you make me do all the hard work? Not very gentlemanly of you, Jonathan.”

The shame guts him just as harshly as it arouses him. Contradictions make it even harder to think straight, he doubts he could manage to sit up if he tried. The thought of trying to do so flees his skull as fast as it arrived. All he knows is that he’s shamefully, painfully hard.

“Please…” He whispered, breathless just from one word. “Please, Tes.”

Their voice was unrepentant. “No. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

A pitiful moan wrenched its way out of him. Twitches and little spasms make him dance against whatever he’d been laid out on. He didn’t feel the confines of his clothing anymore. When had they been stripped off? Having them gone only irritated him. It meant nothing to rub against, nothing to try and get friction off of…but he assumed that had been intentional. He didn’t deserve that ease.

His feeble squirming seemed to delight his tormentor, based on their laugh. “Even the thought of it is too good for you. But I’m feeling generous tonight.” Something sharp grazed the thin skin of his scalp. “I simply can’t help myself. I like you like this. So restless. So needy. My sweet, darling, pathetic little pirate whore.”

Testament ruffled his hair, condescendingly, and ran a hand across his sweaty cheek. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t between his legs. With how wound up he was, anywhere was enough.

In retrospect, he found it funny that even at the peak of pleasure, he hadn’t been able to move an inch. Rather than a moan of release, it had been more of a weird snuffling noise while his cock painted his chest and the mattress with sticky white ropes. While hopped up on endorphins, though, he couldn’t give less of a shit about any of that. All he wanted was for it to crash over him like a tidal wave and knock him senseless, and the Gear had been happy to supply it.

Johnny wasn’t sure how long he’d been knocked out for, but when he woke up again, his torso had been wiped clean, and Testament was belly-down in the mattress next to him, absentmindedly kicking their feet in the air.

“Back on earth, then?”

“Fuh- feelin’...” He sat for a moment, re-familiarizing with the feeling of his own sore, overspent body. “Fuck, Tes, that was somethin.’”

They gave him a little smile, then turned away. “Good to hear.”

Part of him wanted nothing more than to wrap itself in the coziness of a post-sex high, but something about his partner’s body language stirred up a sense of worry he couldn’t quash.

“Somethin’ on yer mind, Tes?”

One leg twisted around the other. “I’m fine.”

The pirate’s still-blurry eyes traced the patterns in the hotel ceiling’s wallpaper. He didn’t remember this one, it must have been Testament’s pick.

“Wedding’s got ya just as worried as me, ain’t it?”

Testament winced immediately, and responded with a grumble of defeat. “How can you be so perceptive even now…?” They sighed.

“Call it fatherly intuition.” He tried for a smirk. One arm still felt numb, but having the other was enough to let him scoot back against the pillows. “Even if she moved out, you never stopped frettin’ about Dizzy, did’ja?”

“I will admit that it’s been…difficult. I still have my issues with Kiske, but if Dizzy is happy with him, I can put them aside for her sake.”

“But that’s always easier to say, ‘n when you gotta back up your words, ‘s not as easy, is it?”

“We’re parents, Johnny. Our only job is to do what’s best for our kids.” They sighed, rolling onto their back and sweeping the hair out of their face. “And sometimes, ‘doing what’s best’ is letting them go their own ways. Even if we don’t like it.”

“Trus’ me, I know. I mean, it ain’t my business, ‘n maybe it’s a bit a’ hypocrisy comin’ from me, but I wanted to smack that boy upside the head when I heard he was gonna have a kid before buyin’ Dizzy a ring. Figured Kiske was some kinda gentleman.”

Testament made a noise, someplace between a laugh and a groan. “Please don’t remind me. I very nearly had his hide for it. By that point, I hadn’t left the Grove in ages, but I considered it just for that. The absolute gall of that man…”

“Chivalry just ain’t what it used to be, hoo-wee!” At least he’d gotten them to talk. It sounded like all of this was as much of a bandage for them as it was for him. “I guess it’s just nice having someone who gets it, y’know?”

“...I suppose I do.” They smiled, and there was something far more genuine about it.

“Wanna do this again sometime?”

Testament looked at him oddly. “Are you expecting another wedding soon?”

“Nah.” Johnny waved the thought away. “Doesn’t just gotta be for that. Don’t gotta have an excuse for a little fun, do we? No reason this can’t just be for us to fool around a little.”

He watched his partnter consider the proposition. “You know, that doesn’t sound too terrible an idea.”