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Chapter Text

Finally having a permanent living space again was a bit of an adjustment for Dakota.

Before, the Prime Defenders never stayed in one place too long and it would've been an overstatement to say Dakota was ever used to William's driving. However the constant thunks and clangs- the sudden swerves and jolts that had become commonplace in the Winnebago meant that being grounded felt almost disorienting to Dakota. Then again, Dakota was practically a perpetual motion machine, he never had stopped moving.

Ever since he moved into his dorm room in the Prime Academy, he'd missed these bumps in the night, the rock and jerks that had soothed him to sleep. It was nice, though, getting to see Ashe again every day, learning from the best of the best. (Alongside Professor Cross- who'd somehow became a teacher despite the fact he couldn't be much older than Vyncent. Let alone his overwhelming demeanour.)

The silence that followed Ashe’s return was strenuous. Sure, the Trickster was purged from his body and Ashe was free. That was amazing, don't get him wrong! Yet the silence, the months and months of peace and quiet left Dakota itching to return to the field- to fight some real villains once again. Ones who weren't just Le Frog in increasingly worse disguise and aliases. La Rana, Der Frosch, De Kikker - eventually it became increasingly obvious that they were all simply Le Frog under different names. It was quite the surprise the first time, at least.

Eventually, he'd brought this up to Lightspeed in passing, exasperated and tired. In response, she'd promised to find him something better.

This…wasn't what he'd hoped for. Not in the slightest.

"You want us to close Harby's?" Dakota stared at the papers in front of incredulously, "We're superheroes! We should be out there fighting crime and stuff, not shutting down a goddamn restaurant for-!"

He glanced through the seemingly endless healthcode violation fines scattered across the desk- "Unsaitia- Unsani--" He huffed, screwing his eyes shut before slamming his hands down on the desk in frustration, looking back up at Lightspeed with furrowed brows, "Bad food conditions!"

Lightspeed nodded almost instantly, resting a hand across Dakota's, "If it makes you feel any better, Dakota, the reason we can't send non-supers out is because Mr. Porter keeps attacking them all."

"Mr. Porter?" Vyncent perked up, tilting his head to the side in a catlike manner.

"The owner." 

She swiftly procured a manilla folder tucked into her bag, sliding it over the table to the boys and unfolding it to reveal a Primeter selfie of an older man tucked into the corner.

Vyncent's nose scrunched up, his cheeks puffing as he stared at the man.

"Is that Walter White?" He muttered under his breath.

Dakota snorted, holding back a grin. The owner held a little too much resemblance to him.

"So far, he's taken out all three health and safety auditors who went to deliver citations. From what we know, we got some sort of meatball producing power? Supposedly he fires them out like tennis balls-"

"Whoa sick!"

"I'd handle him myself, but unfortunately," Lightspeed adjusted her crutches, shifting her weight from her broken leg, "I'm a little out of commission right now. But hey, it'll be good practice and I'm sure the three of you can handle it!" 

"Two."

"Hm?" Lightspeed blinked, leaning forward a little. "Is William not coming? I mean, I know you said he was busy, but I figured he'd be tagging along for the mission."

Dakota crossed his arms and huffed. Trying to set William up with Summer had really come back to bite him in the ass.

"He's out with Summer, some sort of detective work? Or something." Said Vyncent, trying to appear unbothered. Whilst William may have been more outwardly jealous of the two, Vyncent certainly had his moments.

"Oh... I understand if the two of you don't want to do the mission-"

"Nah, we can do it! We don't need Will. It's a meatball guy- how hard could it be?"

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Vyncent let out a yelp as he toppled over one of the chipped, grime-ladened tables, ducking behind the barricade. No sooner than the table hit the greasy, tiled floor, the resounding, wet splats of a barrage of meatballs echoed through the room. 

Silence for mere seconds. 

He peeked over the table. 

A meatball hurtled towards him and Vyncent wondered if he'd go to Fauna's Astral realm if he died on Prime.

In a flash, Dakota leapt up, snapping at the meatball like a dog before rolling back behind the cover.

Vyncent grimaced.

"You know those are coming out of his mouth, right?"

"Hmph?" Dakota hummed, mouth full of meatballs. "Yeah, sho?" Swallowing, he continued, "They could use some sauce…"

"I don't think I want to know where the sauce comes from."

The duo were in a rough spot. Barricaded behind a triangle of three, large tables in the centre of the dining room. Plastic red chairs were strewn outside their safe-zone, the ruddy, dim lighting of the overhead lights swinging violently above from several stray meatballs. Their assailant stalked the outside, prowling, laying in wait. For seconds, the two thought they were safe again, they had time to recuperate. To-

A table clattered across the room, the boys heads peeking up in unison to see Mr. Porter, red-faced. With a guttural scream, he lunged towards Dakota with the ferocity no middle-aged man should realistically possess. Before he could reach however, Vyncent slammed into him, intercepting, yet a steaming meatball slapped him in the face, disorienting him beyond retaliation.

In his daze, someone had snatched Vyncent and, with a whirl, he went flying over their makeshift barricade. He tumbled over countertops, knocking into the tip jar, freeing the lint and buttons inside as it crashed into the floor.

Two-way doors flapped vacantly behind him, his face smushed into a wet smear on the floor. Falling back to his knees, Vyncent smeared what he hoped was chunks of meatballs off his face as he surveyed the room. 

It was some sort of filthy kitchen, with a garbage pile of rotting meat and moulded buns heaped near another door. Handmade burger patties sitting unattended in a similar state across countertops baked in several layers of dried flour. Drains were clogged with what Vyncent could only guess might have been food; a large, soapy puddle that had formed beneath the dishwasher was probably the cleanest thing in the whole establishment, but not even that could remove the hardened sauce stains beneath it.

That was when a familiar metallic smell wafted through the air, Vyncent's nose wrinkling as he caught it. Following the scent, he was led to something. It was red and pulsing, sticky webbing crawling out from behind a cabinet.

Vyncent breathed.

The vines twitched in response.

He stepped closer, transfixed. The vines undulated slowly, in and out. In and out. Almost as if they were breathing and-

The skitter of claws snapped Vyncent out of his trance, eyes snapping towards a rat that scurried by. His stomach grumbled as he eyed the sacks of sesame seeds it had wormed between. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all…

Muffled past the doors, the fight raged on. 

Dakota dug his foot underneath the lip of a table, kicking it into the air and pivoting until he built up enough force and momentum, redirecting its course and sending it flying. Mr. Porter couldn't dive out of the way fast enough as the table collided with his body. It pushed him several feet back, pinning him against the wall under its heavy weight.

Several framed photographs of a loving family came crashing down with the motion, more glass scattering across the ground. One tore through his bald head, the frame hanging loosely around his neck like a collar.

Mr. Porter let out an animalistic growl, his hands scrabbling to gain purchase on the table's edges. Before he could tear it off of himself, Dakota rushed forward, dodging the rapid-fire shots that came his way, occasionally taking a bite of one before delivering a swift final kick across Mr. Porter's face. His head snapped to the side, slamming back against the wall with a crunch. 

Finally, he slumped forward, unconscious.

Reaching into his pocket, Dakota pulled the citation from his pant leg and let go, watching as it drifted lazily down over Mr. Porter's head.

He grinned, mission complete.

"Vyncent?" Dakota called out, surveying the now ruined restaurant. 

Some dust scattered down from the ceiling.

"Where'd you go?"

He popped out from behind the bar counter, the back end of a rat sticking out of his mouth, kicking and squirming.

"Hmmph?"

Despite having eaten a jellified supervillain, a demon, and now supervillain meatballs, Dakota still had it in him to be at the very least a little disgusted by the eating habits of one of his best friends. Especially since said eating habits involved hunting down live rats and "grub hunts" where Vyncent would run around in the dark hunting beetles for a quick snack.

Unsurprisingly, Vyncent felt similarly about Dakota's eating habits.

Dakota waited a moment for Vyncent to finish his meal, before asking again.

"Where'd you go? You missed, like, the whole fight, man!"

"The kitchen, I think?" Vyncent glanced back to the scene of his rat-devouring crime. "He's surprisingly strong. Also, there's some really gross shit growing out of a cabinet in there- I think maybe that's why the guy had so many citations."

"Also the rats."

Vyncent furrowed his brows. "What about the rats?"

"They're not allowed in kitchens here. It's, like, super un-hyde-genic."

"Not even to cook?" Vyncent asked, recalling that one rat chef movie William had shown him.

"Not even to cook." Dakota confirmed dejectedly. Vyncent hung his head in despair.

"Can rats cook on your world?" Asked Dakota.

"No." Sighed Vyncent.

"Bummer." Dakota peered through the window into the infested kitchen. "So, where's the gross shit?"

Vyncent hopped back over the counter, Dakota following in pursuit as they disappeared into the kitchen. It wasn't hard to spot the dripping red vines sprawling up and across the farmost side of the wall.

Dakota gagged. It was a smell he was sickeningly familiar with:

The smell of blood, of torn-open wounds and rotting flesh. 

"What the fuck is that?"

Chapter Text

Summer's dorm was not the place William had in mind when she'd invited him to go over their case.

It was a series of missing persons with next to no connections between the victims and absolutely zero motives. At least so it seemed. The police had oh so graciously handed it off to the 'rookie' heroes to figure it out. As with most of the dirty work they couldn't give two shits about finishing. That way, they didn't have the dirt on themselves when it wasn't solved.

At least that's what William thought as he slipped off his shoes upon entering. It'd become a habit drilled into him way back from when they all lived in the Prime Defenders HQ. Ever since Dakota had kicked them off half-way into the hall and explained why upon his questioning. His ancestors had been one of the last Canadian families to board the final ship off Earth, the nigh-ancient traditions still sticking to this day. Hell, they'd certainly stuck to him.

Summer glanced back at him, raised an eyebrow but ultimately said nothing on the matter.

"Kate's out right now," She tossed her canvas bag onto one of the chairs nearby, "So we've got the place to ourselves."

Her voice snapped him back to reality, hands jerking from his coat pockets, "Oh, cool."

Him and Summer. Alone, in a room, Together .

Oh gracious, non-existent God , help him. 

Just stepping into the dorm room, Summer's room- he was in her room, had made him start to sweat. His eyes darted around, looking for anything to lock his eyes onto but her. She hadn't fully unpacked yet, a few unopened boxes sat forgotten in the corner by a tall, paper lamp. 

"Oh, I had one of those as a kid!" William pointed over at the lamp as he shuffled off his coat, hanging it on the wonky coat rack.

She gave him the awkward-white-guy-smile.

William puffed his cheeks, trying to find something else to comment on, "You dyed your hair again."

Summer nodded, " Yeah , I did..."

Making small talk was not working.

There were a few posters up on her side of the room. A periodic table; pictures of her dog; some of the Prime Rifters and Doug - The sort of stuff William expected to see. Pushed slightly over the end of her bed was a wooden desk and laptop, desk lamp and notes piled neatly. He let his gaze linger on the pencil pot, seeing a few pens and pencils he'd lent her in there. 

She sat on her bed, scooching up to the desk and flipping open the laptop.

Summer's bed. God, he'd love to lay there with her right now. Across the green and orange sheets, her hands tangled in his hair, her-

His face flushed as he chased away the thoughts. That's not what he was here for ! Focus!

"So-!" William cleared his throat, voice cracking, “ So , the case…"

He fumbled, looking for somewhere to sit that wasn't her bed before dragging a chair over next to it.

"I got some of the earlier victims on tape," His voice came out rushed, trying desperately to purge his previous train of thoughts from his mind, "A few security cameras, home surveillance footage, a dash cam - the police really just let you get anything if you say it's hero business."

"Nice! Didja catch anything new, any clues?" 

William handed her the USB, "Not much at a glance, no. Just that before they disappeared, some of them froze up before going off camera. Then? Nothing."

" Weird ,"

"Anything new from the witnesses?"

"No, not a thing," She shook her head, sighing, "either that or they don't want to talk."

Summer tapped a half-painted nail against Williams' battered and beaten USB stick, "So this is our only lead…"

"Looks that way," William hunched over on the chair, bringing his hand up to his mouth in an unconscious habit, the ghost of a cigarette between his fingers.

This was a pain. If he weren't here he'd have lit one to burn some stress off. Hell, maybe it'd help him crack this case wide open, all good detectives seem to be smoking something when they find a clue.

"Well, let's go over the footage again, maybe there's something you missed!" Summer crossed her fingers, offering a smile before tapping the USB against the screen, which connected with a small blue light.

William watched as she dragged her fingers across the laptop's screen, opening the files and pulling each video up. She pulled up the most recent disappearance, just a day or two ago, meanwhile, he opened Google Maps, squinting at the security footage that was currently on the screen. 

They both leaned in to get a better look, heads pushed up against each other as they squinted at the screen. The room was silent, if not for the repeated tap-tap-tap of Summer going through the video frame-by-frame, pixelated figures lagging across unfamiliar roads.

"This one was just a few days ago . You'd think they'd have told me where this is," William grumbled, leaning his head against Summer's ever-so-slightly, "but no, not even the footage says the date, I had to ask ." 

"That's stupid," William felt the press of her glasses against his cheek, the room suddenly feeling ten degrees warmer as she continued, "It's almost as if they're covering this up. Then again I wouldn't put it past them,"

A thin, yellow box outlined the victim as they walked across the screen, something in their hands. They brought the object up to their head, presumably to eat, before letting it fall back to their side. In their other held a thin, oblong rectangle.

"They were on the phone, you know?" Summer adds.

"Yeah?" His voice came out raspy, almost as if he was back in highschool, watching her from a few desks away.

"Yeah, I talked to their mom, she said they were just supposed to pick up groceries but never came back. They just stopped responding mid-call."

William could tell what was in their hand wasn't a phone, that much was clear even through the pixels. It was too long, with a white blemish across it behind darkened fingers. They froze, just like he knew, before walking off-camera, down the street.

"Go back, what're they eating?" William squinted, bringing a hand up to zoom in on the bag, "White and red paper, red cup… Harby’s? "

"Not the best of choices," She shrugged.

"Hey, they have the meat, okay , they said it themselves. But look," William dragged across Prime on his map, zooming into the missing persons zone they were appointed to, "There's only two Harby’s in the area. Meaning…"

Summer's eyes lit up, leaning back from the computer screen, "We can find the last known location!"

"Precisely!" William snapped his fingers into a finger gun, grinning.

He zoomed into street-view on his phone whilst Summer pulled up Google Maps on her laptop, making sure to keep the video up in the corner of her screen.

"I'm gonna look around Eddison Street, you check Parker Lane?" 

"Gotcha," William zoomed back out and went over to Parker Lane.

For the first time in this case, William felt alive, his knee bounced, socks slipping against the wooden floor as he tapped around the streets near the Harby’s.

"Got it!”

His head snaps up with Summer's words. Her smile wide, full of unbridled joy, eyes sparkling as she shows him the location. 

Normally, he'd have probably begun to fumble over everything again at the sight. Seeing Summer this happy because of him? It would have probably killed him all over again. Yet all William could muster was a tired groan at the sight of the store; 

"Rusty’s."

He looked up at the white-on-brown lettering outside the store. Just looking at it made him feel sluggish, tired, like the world around him was rotting . He wondered if this is how stores are supposed to make their employees feel, or if Rusty's was uniquely soul-sucking in some way.

An ambulance blared past on the street, the hustle and bustle of crowds around them already becoming far too much for William.

His ears were ringing- where was he again? Everything blurred together as the automatic doors outside Rusty's slid open.

The drone of generic pop music filled his ears, one of his coworkers shuffling by lifelessly. Red uniform. Right… His uniform… Frank would be so mad that William forgot his uniform again.

Someone was standing in front of him, talking to him. William nodded along, the distant sound of products being rung up made him sleepy.

The customer gripped his shoulders tightly, shaking him like a stress toy.

"Are you paying by cash or card?" 

"William!" They slapped him across the face, "Snap out of it!"

William's cheek stung. He blinked blearily, Summer slowly coming into focus. He didn't know she shopped here…

"Summer? Why're you at… Right, the case! Okay, sorry- shit . Rusty's just brings back a lot… of memories…"  

William stares off into space again and he's back at the till, the monotonous beeping , checking prices, opening paper bags, counting change- 

No. The case. 

When had he stepped inside? He slaps his cheeks, gnawing on his lips before nodding. He'd need to apply more chapstick later, especially if he was going to be spending the day with Summer.

Summer led him a little down the street to where the camera had captured the victim last, trying to make sure he kept away from the Rustys nearby. The two split to cover more ground, Summer starting her investigation closer to the Rustys, whilst William worked on the direct area.
His eyes scanned the street, trying to ignore the constant footfall that was ultimately not helping the situation. Leaning up against the bus stop, he squinted, looking along the storm drains and store shutters. Then he saw it. Tangled into the side-ways closing of a store was a fuzzy, moulding burger bun, almost fused to the red-white Harby's wrapper. Perhaps there was lettuce left, who's to say though when everything looked worse-for-wear.

Ducking past some people and muttering some 'sorries' , William crouched down, nose wrinkling in disgust as he poked at the bread. It must've already been on the way out when it was bought, let alone now. 

Not even the birds wanted Harby's. 

For a second, William looked up, expecting Summer to be by his side, yet only caught her fleeting figure as she walked further down the alley, head down. About to call out to her, William began to rise to his feet before his voice stalled as a glint caught his eye. 

There, under the dumpster, was the shattered remains of a cell phone.

Summer rounded the corner as William fell to his knees, reaching underneath; his hand blindly slapped the concrete for a moment, face squishing against the loose pebbles before his pinkie brushed against the cracked plastic. He dragged it out, some rocks falling from the broken phone as he did.

Sheesh, no wonder it was so beat up, it didn't even have a proper phone case.

Not that he was one to talk, his own cracked, caseless AppleX Biotechnic Holoscreen v6 came to mind. It's battered and beaten husk still sitting in his pocket, hanging onto the last shreds of battery life even though he'd charged it before going to Summer's. Their quality had really gone down since Elon Musk bought the company a few years ago.

"You find anything?" Summer's flip-flops came into view, making William look up from the phone.
"Their phone."
William turned it over in his hands, thumb tracing across the cracks thoughtfully. They all branched from the corner and his mind jumped to every time his phone had hit the floor whilst on call. It'd most likely been an angle it'd been dropped from, before bouncing up against the dumpster across from it, sliding underneath. It was the model just before his own, not particularly expensive, though also not something you'd want to leave behind, even if it was just a little cracked. Surely they'd have come back for it by now, right?
He pressed down on the power button for a few seconds, waiting to see the X-shaped Apple leaf spiral onto the screen. Yet it remained unresponsive. Either it was completely dead or it's power was broken beyond repair.

Summer sucked in a breath through her teeth, looking at it's broken screen, "Yeesh, all I found was a quarter."
"Better than nothing." William hummed, pulling out his own phone and swiping to the camera app.
"Guess this was a bust then, that thing's way too mangled, no shot it'll work," She said.

"Not exactly," William started, coming to his feet, "We don't need the phone itself, the SD's memory might still be fine."
The two began to leave the alleyway, William leading her over to where the burger bun was to snap a picture.

"Yeah, but what'd we even find on there anyways?"
"I dunno," He shrugged, "Let's just hope it's something useful."

William took a quick picture of the buns remains, not too keen on pocketing it, though wanting to keep the evidence nonetheless. The meat'd probably slipped out and been eaten by a dog after all, it wasn't that unheard of.
William eyed Rusty's warily as they left, its gravitational pull drawing him in, before snapping out of it and turning his gaze towards the Harby's. He squinted, a chill running along his spine as a wind whipped past. Something didn't feel right, but he just couldn't figure out what. It was just another Sunday afternoon, yet something in the back of his mind screamed danger. Maybe it was the string of missing persons, maybe it was just his phone hanging onto it's last legs and the urge to charge it.
Either way, William snapped another picture for his evidence board and got into Summer's car.

“Please don't play ‘Ghost’ again.” Summer begged. 

“The one by Confetti, or the one by Nelward?”

“Both.”  

William rolled his eyes playfully and pressed play on Shady Cicadia’s Schmoove . Summer bopped her head along to the music as they pulled out of the parking lot, Eddison Street slowly fading from view, and with it, William's sense of unease.

His mind wandered back to his friends. How were Vyncent and Dakota holding up on their mission, he wondered.

Hopefully, they weren't causing too much trouble…

Vyncent haphazardly poked at the vines, recoiling at the warm, sticky texture with disgust before resuming not a second later.

Dakota stalked around to the other side of the cabinet and gave it an experimental wiggle. It didn't budge, seemingly bolted to the wall.

He circled back around to the front and swung open the top cabinet door.

Behind it was a long, yawning tunnel, pitch black and writhing , stretching down further than Dakota could see.

"Whoa!" Dakota's eyes glimmered. "Secret passageway!" Maybe this is why Lightspeed sent them on such an "easy" mission! Were William here, he probably would have picked that up immediately.

He quickly tore away the rest of the cabinet as though it was cardboard and ran in giddily, clicking his PD watch on and using the flashlight app to light his way.

Vyncent trudged behind, hands buried in his pockets. "We have secret passageways like, all over Fauna, dude."

Unlike Dakota, his Vyncent didn't bother with a flashlight- his elven eyes adjusted nigh-instantly to the darkness.

A few paces ahead of him, Dakota sniffed loudly. "Smell that? Evil."

All Vyncent could smell was raw sewage and exposed tissue, but perhaps that's just what evil smelt like to Dakota. He himself couldn't smell evil, and he wasn't entirely sure when Dakota acquired this ability, but he'd imagine it smelt something like the Litch did- death and decay. Or perhaps sulphur, like the Trickster had. 

Or maybe, evil smelled like-

"Do you think Fartbo is behind this?" Dakota whispered eagerly, eyes wide and alert. "I mean, he escaped to the sewers two years ago, maybe he's still down here!"

"I don't…" Vyncent's voice trailed off, squinting under the flashlight now pointed in his eyes; his gaze fixated on something past Dakota, pupils narrowed into slits. 

"Vyncent? You good?"

Vyncent's response came in the form of a rush of cold air as he leapt past him, sword at the ready. Dakota whirled around as the elf made contact with someone. They yelped, and a gross, wet slap echoed throughout the sewers as Vyncent went flying back against the pulsing wall.

Dakota swung his WATCH brand watch over to the direction of whatever Vyncent had attacked, only barely catching a glimpse of some humanoid figure before they ducked away from the light. 

Dakota was yelling threats into the darkness as Vyncent slowly peeled himself away from the wall. The squelch it made was nauseating , the surface leaving the back of his costume wet and sticky.

He would be taking a very long bath after this.

Vyncent staggered to his feet, swooping down to pick his dirtied sword off the floor. Dakota had stopped yelling- when had Dakota stopped yelling?

His PD watch was on the ground, shining a spotlight over a patch of grotesque wall. Something writhed beneath the surface for a moment before falling still, all while the fleshy coating continued to pulse rhythmically.

"Dakota?" Vyncent called out. His voice echoed down the tunnels. his darkvision only went so far, and he couldn't see him within the sixty or so feet it allowed.

He called out again, the uneven ground squishing loudly with every step. Whatever was down here, it would hear Vyncent coming long before he could even see them.

He needed a new approach.

Carefully, Vyncent twisted his body to step into the small, uncovered patches of stone, ranging from nearly the entire pathway to holes no bigger than his fist. Elves were naturally more graceful and acrobatic than their human counterparts, so it wasn’t as difficult for Vyncent as it might have been for someone like Dakota, or, gods forbid, William.

Maybe it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but Vyncent could swear he saw the flesh slowly expanding, thin tendrils webbing out to scab over bare spots where he had just been. Whatever this gummy, reddish pink coating was, it seemed to be alive and moving.

The stench alone, combined with the already odious smells of the sewers, made his stomach churn. Hopefully Vyncent could find Dakota and get out of this place before he yarfed.

Something in the corner of his eye moved, and Vyncent turned just in time to see ripples extending out from the edge of his vision, putrid water lapping up at the raised stone around them.

His ear twitched- if he listened closely, he could very faintly make out Dakota’s muffled yelling- a yell he’d know anywhere, given how often he’s heard it these past two years.

He picked up his pace, dancing around the piles of gelatinous goo to try and get to Dakota before whatever creepy figure lurking down here could hurt him. Or, perhaps worse, Dakota decided to try a bite of the viscous substance coating the walls. At that thought, Vyncent moved a little faster, finally reaching a fairly clean stretch and racing down the tunnel.

He quickly rounded the corner, nearly slipping on a sudden patch of goo with a yelp. There was perhaps more here than what coated the rest of the tunnels combined- it pulsed in bumpy, uneven chunks, layered thickly across every surface of the tunnel- the walls, the ceiling, even forming a translucent bridge over the water. Chunks of pink bobbed aimlessly in reddening water, and in the centre of it all, standing stock-still at the end of the tunnel, was their new target, stringing a struggling Dakota to the wall with those same oozing tendrils that had tangled around the cabinet door above them.

Dakota was yelling incomprehensible- not entirely English- curses, wriggling frantically to try and get his legs free, but the webbing held fast. An incredible and concerning feat, given Dakota’s immense physical strength. Had he not lost his powers, Vyncent is sure his restraints would be shredded in an instant.

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you-?”

Vyncent barely had a chance to finish his sentence before something thick and wet swung out at him. He ducked down just in time for it to whip over his head and squelch against the thick lining of the wall.

Dakota squirmed, trying to call out to Vyncent, but his cries came out muffled through a gag of spaghetti. He felt himself almost sinking through the wall, tendrils moving of their own accord and seeming to pull him deeper into the damp, squishy wall. Harder, sharper lumps poked at his back for a moment before moving away. If Vyncent didn’t wrap this fight up soon, Dakota might have to dig his way out of the wall himself.

Now, Vyncent could see their assailant clearly; a woman around the same age as Mr. Porter, short in stature, but she’d lifted herself a few inches off the ground with long, thick strands of spaghettified hair. One of these strands struck out at him again, and Vyncent couldn’t leap out of the way, red vines tangled around his foot, holding him in place as the spaghetti slammed into him, knocking him back harder than a piece of pasta had any right to.

Gross and rancid as it was, the thick goo coating the floor softened Vyncent’s fall substantially. That, at least, he was thankful for. He scrambled to his feet, grimacing at the way they sunk into the mushy membrane beneath him. That would make it harder for him to land a hit, but he wouldn’t land very hard if one sent him reeling back, which was an acceptable trade off, he supposed.

He flexed his back legs before springing out towards the woman, slicing some of the spaghetti off with his sword, swinging it around to slam the hilt into her head.

She pulled away before it could make contact, the hilt of his sword missing its mark and nicking against her shoulder instead.

Vyncent had slammed it down with enough force to bruise, yet the woman hardly reacted- no indication that she had been hurt aside from the way she staggered back slightly.

She struck out again, and Vyncent rolled out of the way and darted past her to Dakota, transforming his sword into a knife with hardly a thought and hastily cutting away at the thin red webbing holding him in place.

He only managed to slice off a few strands before something wet and slimy wrapped around his waist and yanked him back, knife still embedded in the wall.

"Shit!" Only one arm was free- the other was trapped beneath coils of surprisingly strong spaghetti. Haircuts must be a fucking pain in the ass for her.

Min had taught him to harness some of the natural magic swirling inside him, but that didn't mean he was any good at it- in fact, it was probably his worst skill.

Vyncent closed his eyes for a moment, reaching inward to grasp at the wisps of magic innate to elvenkind, feeling them reach back. Something sparked at his fingers once, twice. He wasn't entirely sure what he was about to do, but damn if he wasn't about to do it.

Electricity crackled in his free hand as he unthinkingly slammed it down on the thick noodles connecting him to his assailant. A massive jolt went through his body as the world flashed white, his limbs seizing and convulsing as a searing pain shot through him.

Vyncent slowly pushed himself off the ground, his ears were ringing and his body still twitching slightly. His throat felt raw, and he distantly made the connection that he'd been screaming.

The air smelled of burnt pasta, magic, and cooked meat. Burning hair, too, and Vyncent realized that one was probably him- he'd singed half the hair off of his arms, and likely a bit of his stubble, too.

He groaned, staggering to his feet as the world tilted and spun beneath him. 

Vyncent Sol was many things- but a smart man was not one of them.

The woman recovered faster, and through his disoriented vision he could see her dash towards him, teeth bared like a rabid animal, the long locks of pasta she'd once had now blackened and broken around her ears. 

Blearily, Vyncent tried to brace himself for the blow.

“Colestyle:” a blur of red and orange flew past him, “Pasta la vista!”

Dakota's foot made contact with the woman's face, sending her flying back against an uncovered patch of stone, her body crumpling as it hit the ground, finally unconscious.

He landed down in front of Vyncent, turning back and tossing him the knife.

Though still hindered slightly by the shock of his own magic, Vyncent's years of playing with knives allowed him to easily catch the blade between his thumb and forefinger.

“Nice catch!” Dakota beamed. His costume was still covered in slime.

Vyncent grimaced, wiping his blade clean against the fabric of his suit before resheathing it. “I think we need to find you a towel, man.”

Dakota nodded quickly. “She dragged me through the water- ‘m all smelly now.”

“Gross!”

“I guess we should handcuff her and call this in?” Dakota suggested, turning back to where their attacker had landed.

The spot on the ground was empty, grotesque membrane rippling for a moment before laying still once more.

“What the fuck!” 

Dakota dashed over to the spot where she had just been, looking around frantically for where she might've gone.

“I thought I had her!” He huffed. 

“This is a dead-end,” said Vyncent. “Do you think she doubled back?”

“Yeah. She must've.” Dakota pulled a strand of pasta from his face, and Vyncent was quick to slap it out of his hand before he could eat it.

Dakota whined in despair as it splattered onto the ground. “Vynce! What the hell?”

“That was her hair, Dakota.” 

“It was going to be my snack, but now it's all gross.” It was a bad sign when not even Dakota Cole was willing to eat something. “Can we get pizza on the way back?”

“Yeah, sure.” A pause, “Do they have credit? None of mine are working anymore.”

“Maybe!”

The boys wandered back the way they came, Dakota whining the whole way back about the new crack in his PD watch and the lack of cell signal.

The reddened water rippled once, twice, and something smooth and white bobbed to the surface a moment before sinking back down into the depths.