Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jax is fucking insufferable. It’s tragic, but it’s no news to any member of the circus. Even someone on their first day catches on quickly–he makes it no secret.

Still, Ragatha muses, watching Jax out of the corner of her eye, he’s been a little more unhinged than usual. 

Like right now, for example. 

Gangle’s sitting on the couch, too engrossed in her doodles, or writing, or whatever she’s up to today, and Jax slinks up behind her like a predator to its prey. Ragatha opens her mouth to warn her sensitive friend, but by the time she’s said the two syllables of her name Jax has ripped the comedy mask from her face, maniacally laughed, and punted it. 

The sound of it shattering echoes from a distance. Next, the bubbling tears erupting from Gangle. 

“Ohh…” she whimpers sadly.

Ragatha stomps her foot on the ground, “Jax!” she admonishes in a screech. “What the [BLOINK!] is wrong with you?”

The rabbit in question shrugs theatrically, a smile lighting his face but otherwise wordless. 

Her face scrunches up in a fit of frustration as she crosses her arms, “Don’t you ever get bored of being such a bully? Would it kill you to leave Gangle alone for once?” She can’t help the continuous raise of her voice.

“Aw, c’mon dollface, it’s just some harmless fun,” he replies in mock surprise. He looks thoughtful for a minute, then adds, “And, yeah, it would kill me.”

Ragatha pulls at a chunk of her hair, a habit of hers she’s acquired whenever feeling any emotion too strongly. She wipes her face with her hand in exasperation as Gangle sniffs and collects her things, presumably to find other company or some space sans Jax. 

“You know,” she begins, a burst of an angry giggle leaving her before collecting herself, “Your luck’s gonna run out. Someday the way you treat others is gonna catch up to you.”

Ragatha expects another snarky remark, or shrug, or apathy. It’s for a moment, only for a moment, and maybe she imagined it. His reaction was nearly imperceptable, but she swears she sees him jolt, his pupils shrink into squares.

Just like that, though, he’s back in character. 

“Please, the worst that can happen here is a boring adventure.”

“Or abstraction,” Ragatha fills in, glaring at him. “Seriously, what are you gonna do if you take it too far one day, I mean, don’t you ever feel bad about how you treat others? Did anyone teach you about being polite growing up?”

Jax’s brow furrows, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” his hands imitate her, ‘talking’ into his ear. “Who cares,” he grunts, and his posture is deadset.

Ragatha lets out a huff, “Can’t you just take something seriously for once?!” She glares at him one last time before turning in the direction Gangle went. 

She catches up to her quickly, noting the visible upset coiled in her ribbon. Gangle is hunched over, clutching her items close to her chest, leaving a trail of the sound of muffled sniffles.

“Gangle,” she raises a hand hesitantly, before placing it gently on their back. “Are you okay?”

Her mask turns to her hesitantly, eyes flitting to the side, away from Ragatha’s. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, Jax is such a [BOING!],” Her voice tinges with annoyance. “You don’t deserve that,” Ragatha reassures. Gangle finally looks at her and offers a smile, which Ragatha returns. 

Good. She’s making her feel better.

“I just,” Gangle looks over to the couches in the distance, now void of any circus member. Ragatha doesn’t know where Jax fucked off to. “I’m used to it breaking. It always happens,” she pauses with a distressed sigh, “Lately though, it’s the first thing that happens to me.”

Gangle rubs their shoulder of ribbon to comfort themselves. “Usually my comedy mask lasts at least halfway through the day… or into the adventure for a bit,” they sniff, “Jax has been breaking it at the first opportunity now.”

Gangle looks over to the side. At first, Ragatha thinks at nothing, but, following her eyes, notices the fragments of Gangle’s porcelain comedy mask. She frowns, “Oh, Gangle…” 

Then, Ragatha feels a resurgence of righteous anger and frustration. Why is Jax so horrible to everyone? Doesn’t he care what the others think of him? Well, clearly he doesn’t, but Ragatha wishes he was tortured by the same desparation to be liked that she is. 

She crosses her arms, looking at Gangle, “I’ll talk to him again. Maybe I can get him to chill out.”

Gangle exhales in a sad chuckle, “It’s Jax. He’ll just be worse.”

“Well,” Ragatha begins, thinking, “This is a recent development, isn’t it? He hasn’t always been so harsh.” She rubs her arm, “At least, he would wait a little bit longer, anyway.” 

Jax has always been on the crueler side, but the last thing anyone needs to experience is his descent into excessive brutality. 

Gangle seems to turn the idea over in their head. “I guess,” she starts out, albeit not confidently. “I guess he hasn’t always been as mean.”

“Can you remember when it started? Maybe something happened around then that’s related.”

Gangle’s eyes curve downward as they think. The frown deepens on their tragedy mask. “I think after I… after the Spudsy’s adventure,” they sigh. “I get it. I wasn’t a good boss…” she trails off, avoiding Ragatha’s eye. 

Ragatha’s hand returns to Gangle in an attempt to comfort. “Gangle, no one blames you for what happened with that mask. It’s not like any of us were good employees.” Ragatha laughs a little, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment, “I was stupid high the whole shift, literally.”

She misses the stupid sauce sometimes.

The joke seems to cheer Gangle up, the edge of her frown lifting a bit. She lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah. But I don’t know why else Jax would be so upset from that adventure. I-I don’t really remember much from that day.” Their eyes flit to the side, something unspoken is referenced to that Ragatha can’t decipher.

It's a secret code of respect in the circus not to press if they don’t want to talk about it, so Ragatha lets her curiosity go, for now. It’s not like there’s much she can trust from her memory on that day, anyway. 

“Well,” Ragatha says, slapping her hands together, though it doesn’t make any sound because, well, she’s a ragdoll, “Maybe I can figure it out.” 

In any case, it's something purposeful she can do in between adventures, and it’ll keep her and Gangle on good terms.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asks.

Gangle offers a shy smile, “Yeah… Let me know how it goes.” She briefly scans the circus for any of their other companions, “I think I’ll find Zooble and hang out with them in the meantime.”

Ragatha watches her go before turning and wondering how exactly she’ll manage to get through to the most unbearable person she’s ever met (as far as she knows, at least).

...

Hear him out, none of this is really Jax’s fault. Of course, hearing him out would require him to be vulnerable and Jax has no intention of that. He just can’t stand Gangle anymore.

It’s worse that she doesn’t seem to recall a minute of the stupid ass adventure she forced them all into. He still doesn’t know if the Gangle he saw in the “reevaluation training” was Gangle at all or some NPC Caine whipped up for the drama. Makes no difference at the end of the day. That bullshit was all on her. 

Still, he tries not to think about the reevaluation training. 

Instead, he focuses on breaking that stupid mask. It’s something to look forward to; a reason to wake up in the morning.

It’s the little strings of thrills–violence in the adventures, fucking with the others–that’s really been keeping him together lately. He avoids acknowledging the sense of emptiness that pervades him inbetween.

It’s pathetic, the way everyone swarmed Gangle after that adventure. Why? Because she was sad ? Please. She fell on her own sword. 

He recognizes the stomp of his rabbit foot thumping on the ground. It stops immediately. Whatever. He doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. 

He rolls his shoulders absentmindedly, walking past the lines of doors that border the main room of the circus. Jax used to spend hours opening and closing, opening and closing–to no avail–looking for an exit. It’s been awhile.

He opens one for fun and is hit with the smell of manure and hay. He barely makes out the cornfield before abruptly closing the door.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing. He’d ask why they even have a door leading to a farm, but he knows there’s no rational explanation for anything in the circus. Jax rubs the exposed skin of his wrist with his hand, the reevaluation creeping in the back of his head. 

Jax remembers where he is, squeezing his wrist as tight as possible before growling and starting towards the halls. Surely he’ll find something, or someone, to entertain himself with. A good distraction until the inevitable shit-show of an adventure. Maybe Zooble, they’re usually rational enough to talk to and with enough bite to keep him invested. 

He finds Ragatha instead. Rolling his eyes, he shoulder checks her as he walks past.

“Hey!” Ragatha squawks. “Jax, I want to talk to you.”

Jax keeps walking. 

“Jax!” Ragatha yells. She runs after him, lunging for his wrist and pulling him towards her.

Jax forgets where he is, again. He’s got to stop doing that.

He wrings his arm from Ragatha’s grip, shoving her to the ground. “ Don’t touch me,” he growls, suddenly panting. His eyes flit around the hall, though not at anything in particular.

Ragatha looks at him strangely, “Jax?” she asks cautiously, rising from the ground slowly as though he were a caged animal. “Are you okay?”

He blinks once, twice, frozen in the moment. Ragatha reaches for his arm and he takes a step back instinctively. He draws in a practiced, measured breath.

Jax crosses his arms, looking at Ragatha suspiciously. “What’s up licorice hair? Need to confess your hidden feelings?”

The ragdoll in question blushes in stark frustration and surprise, “Ugh, Jax! No. Don’t deflect, what’s up with you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing.” Then examines his gloved fingernails. “That all?”

Ragatha, thankfully, brushes off the scene he had just caused. She pinches the bridge of her nose before speaking again, “Listen. Be nicer to Gangle. You’re taking it way too far lately.”

Jax looks bored, “Eh, probably not. Has anyone ever told you your hair kinda looks like centipedes?” 

Ragatha grabs a few locks self-conciously, “Ugh, why would you say that?” She takes a worried peek at her hair before remembering why she started this interaction in the first place.

“Yes, very centipede-like,” Jax repeats with a smug grin.

“Listen. You’re upsetting Gangle.”

“Gangle is always upset.”

“You’re being worse than usual. I mean,” she hesitates, “ Are you okay? Did something happen at Spudsy’s? Or another adventure?”

His eyes narrow at the name of the restaurant. His hand reaches to rub his wrist before he physically stops himself. “Nothing that affected me. You on the other hand though…” he says with forced levity, “Remember, stupid?” 

Ragatha groans, “I’m not talking about myself. You’ve been messing with everyone too much lately. Clearly, something’s up with you.”

Jax frowns, “Are you sure you’re okay, Raggie? You’re not thinking straight since that sauce,” he pouts in mock concern.

Ragatha stomps her foot, “You need to be nicer.”

“Aw, Ragatha,” he places his hand over his heart, “You want to strip me of my personality? Of who I am?” He makes a series of disappointed tsks , “Almost sounds like you want me to abstract. Very unlike you. Very unkind.” He shakes his head like an admonishing parent, though the image is ruined by his shit-eating grin.

“Jax!” Ragatha huffs with vitriol, “Can’t you just focus on the conversation without using a straw man to deflect?”

The rabbit grins, “But, Ragatha, you’re not made of straw. And, I mean, we’re not on a farm, either. You didn’t happen to bring any more of that stupid sauce back with you, did you?”

Ragatha blushes from embarrassment again. The group had to forcibly remove the stowaway stupid sauce from her. 

“You know what? Whatever, Jax. Do what you want. Like I said, it’s gonna catch up to you.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he presses, taking a step towards her and jabbing an accusatory finger at her chest, “You gonna do something about it?”

“I should have known talking doesn’t work with you,” she spits. She suddenly takes in Pomni at the end of the hall, watching the two from a distance. Jax follows her eye.

“Pomni,” Jax purrs, “You gotta help dollface out, I think she got her hands on that stupid sauce again.” 

“I did NOT!” Ragatha screeches. “Ugh!” 

Pomni’s eyes dart between the two. “Um.. Everything.. Okay? I thought I heard yelling.”

Jax shrugs, again. His act is really starting to get on Ragatha’s nerves. 

“Ask Jax,” she says, crossing her arms.

Pomni slowly looks over to Jax, “Uhh,” she begins, then looks back to Ragatha with an air of disbelief, “Ask Jax? Really?”

Jax tries to maintain a bored face, “I don’t get it, either.” 

Ragatha sighs, “I’m just trying to get Jax to not be such a jerk to Gangle.”

“Oh,” Pomni supplies. 

“She’s just mad Gangle broke her comedy mask.”

“You literally punted it.”

“Oh yeah,” he grins, “I did.”

“Maybe I should mention how this conversation started,” Ragatha suggests. Jax narrows his eyes at her, and Pomni’s stare turns curious.

“What happened?” she pipes up. 

“Nothing,” Jax says quickly. 

“You freaked out,” Ragatha corrects.

“You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Please, you–” Ragatha begins before a burst of teeth and eyes manifests next to the group.

“I heard something about an adventure!” Caine shouts at the trio. 

They can only stare before the AI recklessly teleports them back to the main room where the others wait. Gangle shrinks away from Jax as Pomni tries to not to barf.

“Caine,” Jax groans, shaking his head, “Please, stop doing that.”

Realistically, they know he never will. 

“Alright, my skibidis!” Jax groans again. “Welcome to today’s adventure: The Mad Maze Mirage!”

“‘Mad Maze Mirage?’” Zooble repeats in cautious confusion. 

“Yes!” Caine exclaims in excitement. “You must escape a mad scientist’s lair before he realizes! Careful not to get caught, lest you want to offer your body to science!”

He hangs in silence for the suspense, “Rumor has it, all caught by the scientist are never seen again…! As you escape the mad scientist through the maze, you’ll find both prize and punishment! Be warned there are monsters around some corners, as well as hidden power boosters and gifts!”

“Power boosters?” Jax smiles.

“What happens if you don’t esape the scientist, exactly?” Pomni asks.

“Experimentation!”

Pomni frowns.

“Experimentation?” Zooble questions, “I’m out. I’m not having an NPC cut into my body or whatever.”

“The NPC could probably fix it,” Jax snarks.

“Shut up,” Zooble glares.

“Nope!” Caine corrects, “Everyone goes today! Team bonding! Help each other out of the maze!” Then he shrugs, “Or not!” 

He quickly opens a portal, shoving the group through before any more protests can erupt. 

Caine brushes off his hands with satisfaction. “They’ll love this one,” he says.

He stops suddenly, turning to Bubble, “Did I tell them some of the power boosters are poison?”

Bubble stares. It’s probably fine.

Chapter Text

Caine did not tell them some of the “power-ups” were poison. They found out the hard way.

The circus members first found themselves laid out on their respective surgical tables, not strapped in of course. Surrounding them were various medical instruments, suspicious liquids of bright colors, and the smell of blood.

A noise of disgust emits from Pomni when she accidentally steps on a puddle of it.

“Do we even bleed red? Or bleed at all?” she asks no one in particular. No one answers her, and Pomni finds that she doesn’t want to know anyway. 

Jax rubs his wrist. “Let’s see what we’re working with!” He fingers through the scalpels and scissors and other instruments he doesn't care to know the name of left on a tray.

Kinger tries to taste one of the vials before Pomni pulls him in tow with the rest of the group. 

“I don’t think those are the power-up potions,” she eyes them warily.

They open the door and, lo and behold, the maze stretches out before them, with three initial trails to choose from.

“How long do we have until the mad scientist finds out we’re gone?” Gangle asks meekly. “I really don’t want to get caught.”

“Me neither,” Zooble grunts, crossing their arms. 

“What happens if we get caught, though? Like, what if everyone makes it to the end but one of us doesn’t. Do we wait for them or save them or…” Pomni trails off.

“Whatever happens, if one of us gets caught, we’ll save each other,” Ragatha decides, trying to lighten the collective mood. “We all need to reach the end together during adventures… I don’t see how we could escape the scientist again if we were actually strapped in.” She shivers a little at the thought, wishing Caine wasn’t so intrigued by horror. 

“As long as I get to watch for a couple minutes,” Jax smiles.

“Don’t be a creep,” Zooble spits. The rabbit puts his hands behind his neck in response, a smug grin still plastered on his face. 

“Alright,” Ragatha begins, taking on the role of leader. “We should stick together. I don’t want to know what Caine has planned if we get caught. We shouldn’t risk it. So let’s stick together and help each other out.” She ends, hands on her hips.

She looks over to Jax, who pocketed a scalpel and was now eyeing it mischeviously. “You hear that, Jax?”

“Uh-huh,” he responds absentmindedly. 

“Which path should we choose?” Gangle peers at the three choices cautiously, as though one would attack her by surprise. 

“Ummm… I’m not sure,” Ragatha admits.

“Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe, that one!” Kinger decides, and though his finger landed on the middle path, he chooses the one to the right of it.

“Whatever,” Zooble groans, defeated. 

The group follows the chess figure down the path. 

At first, it’s quite peaceful. No drama, no potions, no monsters. 

“God, I’m so bored,” Jax moans, dragging his hands down his face. “We’ve been walking forever. Nothing’s happened. The adventure’s a bust.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Zooble side eyes them. 

“I really hope I do,” he mutters.

Sure enough, around the next corner is a dungeon-like room. In the center lies a chest.

Pomni reaches to open it, then abruptly stops. “Wait,” she says, “What if I open it and a monster pops out. I hate jumpscares,” she whines, taking a step back. 

Ragatha hums, “That’s a good point…” 

Jax shoves the both of them aside. “Crybabies. Let’s just get it over with.”

He pops the chest open, and, as he expected, no monster clambers its way out. Instead, a pink potion innocently lies inside. He grabs it quickly.

“Nice, a power-up,” he smiles, popping off the lid.

“Uh, hold on,” Zooble interrupts, grabbing his arm. Jax’s eyes narrow at the action.

“What?” he asks, pausing momentarily.

“Shouldn’t we save it for later? We don’t even know what they do or how long they last…. Maybe it’d be better if we shared it, anyway.”

“I agree,” Gangle supports quietly.

Jax stares at them.

“Ugh. I’m just saying, we should be smart about this.”

Jax shrugs their hand off of him.

“Nah,” he concludes, and downs the potion in one gulp. 

“Jax!” Ragatha scolds, “We’re supposed to be working as a team. You can’t just-” she gestures at the action with a wave of her hand. 

He makes a small noise of disgust, throwing the glass behind him with a shatter, “It doesn’t taste good, I can tell you that much.” He puts a hand on his hip, “There. I helped us all learn something. Aren’t I helpful?”

“Yes!” Kinger says.

“Thank you, Kinger.”

“Let’s just keep going,” Pomni suggests, and the rest follow suit. 

Jax trips Gangle as she passes by.

“Jax!” Ragatha yells.

“It’s fine,” Gangle says, picking herself up from the ground. “It’s not like I have my comedy mask to break… Let’s just keep going, I want to get this over with.”

Jax rolls his eyes. Whatever. 

“Let us know if you start feeling… stronger.. or something,” Zooble says. “At least you’re our test run on it.”

He shrugs, “I’m not feeling anything. It’s probably like a 1% strength increase or something lame,” Jax complains, “He should have just given us a gun.” 

The next treasure chest isn’t so kind. This time, a swarm of bugs crawl out–which delights Kinger but terrifies Ragatha. 

Jax enjoys watching the ragdolls’s torture until the others get Kinger to leave the space. He took a handful of bugs with him for his collection, of course.

Then, though, Jax begins to feel something kick in. 

“Ugh, I feel like one of those ants are still crawling on me,” he mutters as he inspects his body.

“Now you know how I feel,” grumbles Ragatha with a shudder, who’d been religiously checking her person for bugs every two steps, which Jax had been making certain to poke fun at. 

His steps are feeling heavier than usual, Jax notices, and his head is feeling wayyy too light, his vision turning dizzied. A strange feeling swirls in his stomach. Something is off. 

Pomni looks over at him as he begins to trail behind the group. “Jax?” she calls, “Are you… good?”

He shakes his head, trying to regain his senses, “Of course I am,” he smiles. “So cute you’re worried,” he teases. The jester rolls her eyes. 

When her back turns, though, he frowns. Something definitely isn’t right. He tries counting his fingers. Did he always have thirteen? Maybe this is all one really weird dream.

His head is banging before they find the next power-up. Ragatha gets to it before him, though he didn’t even attempt to take it, too busy trying to maintain a sense of normalcy when it literally feels like the world is spinning off of its rails. 

“Okay, let’s save this one for a worst case scenario,” and she pockets it away. “You hear that, Jax? Don’t steal it.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbles. Are the walls… breathing right now? 

He leans over to Zooble, “Are you seeing this, too?”

They look at him strangely. “What are you talking about?”

“[BOINK!]” suddenly erupts from Pomni in an exhausted shout. “This room is a dead [BOING-OING!]ing end! We have to turn back.”

She starts laughing maniacally, “This is good! I love adventures! Haha. I love being chased by horrific beings all the time. Ha. Ha.”

Ragatha puts a consoling hand on the jester’s shoulder.

And so they turn back, Jax finding himself trailing further and further behind the group.

Zooble eyes him carefully, then whispers something to Ragatha, who turns to look at the wavering rabbit. 

Are they talking about him? What are they talking about? The paranoia crawls up Jax’s throat. He can’t trust them. He can’t trust any of them. Who are they, anyway? Where is he, again? Who is he, even..?

“Ragatha, I don’t think all the potions are power-ups. Jax is acting really off.”

Ragatha peers at Jax behind them. An inkling of concern wells up in her, but then she remembers how rude he’s been acting lately and finds she doesn’t really care. 

“I doubt it, Caine would warn us,” she assures, “He’s probably just upset no one’s gotten tortured yet. Beyond the bugs,” she grimaces.

“I guess,” Zooble responds, but they don’t sound confident. “Caine didn’t mention anything about the stupid sauce, though,” they point out.

Ragatha blushes, letting out an embarrassed laugh, “Yeah, well, we’d definitely know by now if it was anything like the stupid sauce.”

“He should stick with the group though.”

“You really want him walking with us?” Pomni asks, overhearing their conversation. “It’s finally peaceful. I mean, he’s tripped Gangle alone like three times in the past thirty minutes.” The jester frowns, “or however long it’s been.”

Gangle hugs herself tighter. She doesn’t want to deal with Jax’s antics, sure, but she doesn’t want to risk messing up this adventure, either. She doesn’t like the sound of a mad scientist at all. 

“He should stick by us,” Gangle agrees.

Pomni’s brow curls in disbelief. “Really?”

She shrugs, “We don’t really know much about this quest… It’s probably safer if we’re all together. And he took the power-up.. we could use him if something happens.”

“Hm,” Ragatha thinks, “That’s true. Okay. Let’s force Jax to walk with us.” 

The group turns around, but there’s no Jax to be found.

“[BOINK!]” Zooble groans.

“Well, that’s not good,” Kinger mutters, “I lost my bug.”

...

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Jax groans as he slides down a wall, cradling his head in his hands. His head hurts. It feels like it could explode at any second.

He rises from the ground, leaning on the wall to steady himself. Gotta keep walking. But, where is he walking? He’s been walking forever, now, and there’s soooo many turns. Wasn’t he promised a prize? 

The fear creeps back to the edge of his consciousness. Jax’s breath hastens as his eyes dart around, too fast to focus on anything. He feels like he’s being watched. Like there’s maggots wriggling all over the floor, on his legs. He keeps checking, and he hasn’t seen any, but he keeps feeling them. They have to be there, right? 

His foot trips over a stone and the wall catches him again. “Owww,” he whines. 

Jax tries really, really hard to walk straight. He keeps careful watch of where his feet are going, yet he finds himself bumbling into the stone brick every other second.

“Ugh,” he groans. The maze swirls into one big picture of blurs and eyes and.. Is that a butterfly? No. Is it?

“I’m not supposed to be here,” he mutters.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Jax repeats, giggling now, hiding his head in his hands as tears trail down his face.

He takes a deep breath and tries to keep going.

He’s really not sure what he’s looking at. The sun has since fallen into the horizon; the night quickly invades the sky with pitch black uncertainty. The stone brick of the maze swirls together in a dizzying pattern.

Thoughts swarm and attack his brain like wasps. It’s like he’s thinking fifty things at once, and none of them make any sense, yet they’re all interconnected.

Jax wants to barf desperately. He’s wanted to vomit for a while now–he’s tried a couple times with no success. 

He twirls the scalpel in his hand, now pondering Pomni’s earlier question. “What color? Red, orange, green?” he giggles, “Let’s see.”

He draws the blade across his arm, too high to feel any of the resulting pain--if he'd feel it anyway. He snickers all the while as the circus’s famous black goo leeches out. “Heh. Black. Caine got the color wrong,” he mock-chants to no one in particular. 

“Pomniiiii,” he calls out, “The blood’s black” he sing-songs.

“Oh wait, Pomni’s not here. I left them,” he laughs.

Then, Jax is hit with another wave of lightheadedness. “Ugh. I wan’ sit down. Ground’s nice.”

“[BOING!]” he breathes out. “Haha, it made a boing noise. Boing… Like [BOINK!] heh heh… Boink…”

He thinks for a minute. “Can I spell it out?” He whispers: “S-E-X.” The rabbit rolls over in a wave of laughter. 

Then, he gets particularly scared because he can’t stop laughing and now he’s crying but he’s laughing and his head is fucking killing him and he doesn’t know what’s going on and he really wants this day to be over and he feels sick and the ground is melting underneath him and he doesn’t know where he is and his heart is beating fast, too fast, and-

“Looks like the bunny got lost,” a voice he doesn’t know echoes down the maze.

“Wha?” Jax lifts up his head, his bleary eyes trying to make out the leering figure walking towards him. “Kinger?”

No, the shape is wearing a lab coat, Kinger doesn’t wear a lab coat. He wears a purple robe… he thinks.

“Heyyy… You’re not Kinger…”

“No I’m not,” the man growls, grabbing Jax’s wrist in a rigid grip, peeling him off the ground.

“Woah, woah,” Jax’s voice slurs off, his heart thumping against his chest wildly. “Gotta take me on dinner first.”

He tries to pull his wrist away from the man, but he only holds it tighter. 

“I don… Wha you doing?” He asks, but he doesn’t receive a response. The recent memory of reevaluation crawls into his head.

“No, no, no, wait,” he plants his feet on the ground, though this sends a violent wave of nausea through his body. “Ugh,” he grimaces.

“You don’t want to resist,” the man warns.

“Well may-maybe I do,” Jax retorts. He kicks the man’s side weakly. To his luck, it does the trick, and Jax takes off running in the opposite direction.

He’s not as fast as he thinks he is, obviously. The scientist, in seemingly no time at all, catches up to Jax, tackling him to the ground.

“What the [BOINK!], stop, just,” Jax paws at the man’s chest. He tries to focus, he really does, but he can’t even decipher what this guy looks like and it feels like he's melting into the ground all over again and he’d really like to go home or see someone he knows. 

Jax thinks he’d cry tears of joy if he saw Gangle right now.

“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try being nice,” the man grunts.

“You’re a di-” Jax begins to slur before he feels a needle sink into his skin, and his awareness fades away. 

...

Ragatha starts off in the direction they last saw Jax. “I mean, he was just there. I don’t know where he could have left.”

She stops in front of an opening. “Okay, okay. There’s two paths he could have taken here,” she smiles weakly at the others, “50/50?”

Pomni rubs her shoulder, “Maybe we should keep going. I mean, there’s a chance we could find him at the end of the maze.” 

Zooble has a bad feeling.

“There’s a chance the mad scientist caught him,” Kinger points out.

The group looks at him for a moment.

“Oh, it’s nighttime,” Pomni mutters under her breath. That’s why he’s more lucid. 

The idea of being caught by the unknown scientist unsettles everyone. 

“But he has the power-up,” Gangle pipes in, “Wouldn’t it be easier to get one of us, instead?”

Silence washes over the group as they try to decide what to do.

“Let’s just start walking down one of these paths. One’s probably a dead end so…” Ragatha shrugs. 

The group walks down in a hurried pace, trying to find Jax so this adventure can reach its long-awaited conclusion. 

They can’t have been walking for more than ten or so minutes before a scroll materializes in the air and falls to the ground.

“Oh,” Ragatha says as she picks it up. “What’s this?”

She rolls it open carefully.

“Oh no.”

“What?” Zooble asks, taking the sheet from her hand.

“What does it say?” Pomni tries looking over their shoulder.

“The mad scientist caught Jax,” they groan, flipping the paper to look at the back. “Huh. There’s directions to a shortcut, look.” 

“There were shortcuts this whole time?!” Pomni yells in exasperation.

The group studies the small map etched onto the back of the scroll.

“I feel like there’s a catch,” Zooble mutters.

“Probably, but we need to get Jax if we want to get out of here, and we need to get him before the scientist… does whatever it is he’s doing.”

They all frown at that.

“We still have the power-up, don’t we?” Kinger reminds.

Ragatha places a hand over her pocket. “Yeah.” She takes it out and inspects the green liquid inside, “Well, it wasn’t enough to save Jax from the scientist, but if we share it amongst ourselves… We should be okay.”

She takes a deep breath, “Okay, plan is, if we find ourselves in trouble, the most we should drink is half the vial. We need to save this to get past the scientist. Let’s get going.”

Chapter Text

Turns out, the shortcut had a catch.

A gloink queen, to be specific. 

Pomni points to the small door the gloink queen is currently guarding. “We just need to get past it, it won’t be able to fit through that door,” she whispers. 

“We’ll need a distraction,” Zooble adds.

“I can distract,” Kinger volunteers.

Pomni looks at him, “Are you sure?”

“Why not! I won’t die.”

“Yeah, good enough.” 

Kinger stands in front of the gloink queen. At first, he does nothing. 

Zooble’s about to ask what the hell he’s doing, but they don’t have to. 

Kinger screams very, very loud. The gloink queen rushes towards him.

“NOW!” he yells. 

The group rushes across the dungeon, just barely making it as the gloink queen realizes there are others. 

“Wait, what about Kinger?!” Pomni yells. 

Kinger’s now cornered by the gloink queen, gloinks infesting the dungeon by the second.

Ragatha pulls the vial from her pocket. “I think it’s time for the power-up. How much should we take though, to save him?” She stares at it without moving, paralyzed in the moment. 

To everyone's surprise, Gangle takes it from her hand. “I got this,” she says, downing half the vial, then passing it off to the nearest person.

“Woah, I feel so powerful,” she mutters as she flexes a ribbon. 

Overcome with energy, Gangle rushes into the room, jumps into the air, and one punch K.O.s the gloink queen.

Everyone is shocked into silence.

“Holy [BOING!], Gangle,” Zooble breathes out.

“Gangle, that was awesome!” Ragatha exclaims. 

“Nice job, Gangle!” Kinger adds.

Gangle looks at their hand, “That was just like an anime scene,” she says in awe of herself. “Awesome.”

Then, she turns to the side and pukes.

“Oh, God,” They groan, “I feel like I could carry a building on my back but–” They hold their mouth for a second, “I feel sick to my stomach.”

Pomni looks carefully at the vial, “I don’t think you’re supposed to take the whole thing yourself,” she notes warily, “We’re definitely supposed to share it.”

Gangle continues to be half in awe of herself and half violently nauseous.

“I wonder how Jax got caught then,” Ragatha wonders aloud, “Wouldn’t he have been overpowered?”

Zooble’s eyes narrow. “We should keep going.”

“Yeah, just,” Gangle heaves in a shaky breath, “Just give me a minute.”

…

When Jax comes to, he’s right back where he started.

“I though I already started the avnture…” he mumbles, the fluorescent lighting glaring into his eyes. If he forgot he had a headache, he definitely remembers now. 

He must still be dreaming, if the discomforting patterns surrounding him and weird sensations buzzing through his body are any indication.

“Ah, my little rabbit woke up,” the scientist purrs, caressing Jax’s face. 

“Tha’s not right,” Jax tries to get up, and to his surprise, finds he can’t move. “Wha?”

He tries again to move his wrist to his head, at least to alleviate his migraine, but it’s as though it’s strapped down to the table.

Strapped. Strapped down to the table?

“Wait,” he breathes out. The scientist is looking through a cabinet for something. His heart rate picks up. “Wait, wait, wait.”

Jax struggles frantically against the restraints, finding, to his fear and frustration, that he can’t move an inch. He’s thoroughly tied down, his limbs rubbing against the straps uncomfortably.

He is way too vulnerable right now, and he still feels like his mind is all but shifting in and out of reality. Jax swears he keeps seeing things in the corner of his eye. 

He hears the latex snap of a glove. “It’s time for your examination,” the scientist grins.

“No, no,” spills from Jax’s lips. He feels the tears bubbling in his eyes, the nausea returns, the panic overwhelms him. “No, no, no. Not again.”

It’s so quiet in the laboratory. Deafeningly quiet, yet all he can hear is the shepard’s tone of the reevaluation training, the flash of gangle’s mask, the music getting louder, higher, the threat of what will happen if he doesn’t behave. Everything is too much . Too much.

He starts shaking, though maybe he was already.

“You know,” the scientist begins, as though Jax is in any headspace to converse, “I’ve never had a rabbit on my table before. You’re such a fine specimen, really,” he compliments.

“Gay,” Jax slurs out. He can't be afraid.

The scientist holds Jax’s chin, tsk ing, “Don’t be a bad bunny now. Be nice for your examination.”

Jax wants to make another comment, but his mind can’t piece together the words. 

He vaguely remembers that he took a potion, but the memory is blurred by the disorienting scenario he’s currently stuck in, and there are hands on his wrists and his legs and he’s being held down and the silence is so loud the lights are too bright and the man’s holding him down and this is all too familiar and strange and he’s sick to his stomach and this is all too familiar. 

Something’s begging to burst from his unconscious, in a place far, far away; something he hasn’t looked at in a long time. All the baggage he thought he abandoned when he joined the circus. 

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to be punished anymore. 

Jax squeezes his eyes shut, tries to breathe. His heart drums in his ears.

The scientist peers at the gash on his arm. “Interesting,” he mumbles, his pen scratching at paper. Everything seems so much louder right now. And Jax is tired; very, very tired. “Specimen bleeds in black. Has the ability to clot blood.”

He caresses the wound. Jax shivers. “Looks self-inflicted,” he writes.

Jax doesn’t know how long it goes on, poking and prodding and jotting down notes like he’s a rat in a science experiment and, he realizes, he is a rat in a science experiment right now. Jax is a fucking rodent. It’s almost funny, and he almost feels bad for all those rats. The scientist keeps speaking to him and Jax is probably saying something back but there’s too much happening and he doesn’t know what to do and he needs to be free he needs these hands off of him.

“Stupid… stupid ugly cow,” jumbles out of his mouth. He wishes he could come up with better insults. 

The scientist doesn’t appear to hear him. “Well, it looks like, according to this data, you’ve got a full dose of my poison in your system.” He chuckles, “Can’t just drink anything you find, you know. Especially if it was left unattended, silly rabbit.” 

Poison? The idea rolls around in his head. Jax isn’t sure how to feel about it. This doesn’t feel like poison. More like that bad trip he had years ago, but much, much worse. Like he took triple the dose, and, instead of having any kind of revelation, his body is rotting from the inside out.  

“You know, I’ve always wanted to see how Poison A interacts with Poison B.” He smiles at Jax eerily, “Thanks for being such a good subject.”

He reaches for a vial, “Now, open wide.”

“No,” Jax spits out, then closes his mouth tight.

“You’re not that strong,” the scientist grunts. 

Jax really, really does not want more poison.

He turns his head from side to side rapidly, trying to make it as hard as possible for the scientist to pin him down.

“Silly rabbit,” the man breathes, “Don’t you know you can inject drugs with a syringe?”

There’s nothing Jax can do against that. He feels the syringe enter his system and, then, his head drags to the side lazily.

Jax is awake. He’s certainly, terrifyingly awake. But he can’t do anything. He could struggle before; now he lays placidly on the table. He could speak before, but his mouth is too heavy to move. He can open his eyes, barely, his only act of defiance. He can’t sleep, he physically can’t, but he still feels like he’s in a sick dream.

“See? Isn’t that better? I for one love it, the quiet,” the scientist continues his rant, “Obedience is such a wonderful thing, don’t you think? Now, let’s take a look.”

The scientist unstraps Jax’s wrists from the table. He tries to lift an arm desperately, but the desire doesn’t translate. Jax lays there helplessly, his heart threatening to burst from his chest, tears endlessly welling in his eyes. 

“I’d like to know what you look like with this off. The body is art, you know, and science is my passion.”

Hell no , Jax thinks, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Nausea rattles him again, but there’s nothing he can do about it. He still feels the bugs on his skin, the weird shapes that keep emerging from the lights, and he really would like to go home now. 

The scientist tugs off one strap of his overalls, and all Jax can do is cry pathetically, silently, and feel the harsh rise and fall of his chest. He doesn’t think he’s ever breathed so quickly before. He feels like he’s dying, and he wishes he was, but no one dies here.

He tries to say something, anything, but only a bunch of garbled syllables melt from his mouth. 

It earns him a second of peace, though. The scientist looks at him curiously, then grabs his notepad.

“Specimen regaining the ability to speak faster than other subjects.”

The scientist locks his wrist back onto the table, now that his overall strap is off. He reaches for the other one, slipping it off his shoulder almost sensuously.

“This is always my favorite part,” he purrs, “It’s like unwrapping a present.”

“No,” Jax manages to breathe out. It sounds pitiful, he sounds pitiful.

His chest is bare to the world and the scientist is reaching for the cuffs on his legs to pull the overalls off of him completely. Jax really wouldn’t mind dying now. 

His hands slide down the length of his waist, taking their time, and it’s agonizing. Just get it over with. Please , just get it over with. Give him that one mercy. His training buzzes in his mind, but he doesn’t want to be complacent, he doesn’t want this , he doesn' t want any of it, he doesn’t want to smile.

“I always love to guess where the organs are before I cut in. It’s arranged differently in different oranisms,” the scientist explains, like Jax gives a flying fuck. “I hope you don’t mind that I don't have painkillers.” The back of his hand gently brushes against the side of Jax’s face. Too gentle. It makes him sick. 

The scientist traces lines and circles on Jax’s body, around his hips. He’s mortified, but he’s thankful he’s still covered at all.

He seems to be practicing where he’ll make the incision, deciding which organ he’ll search for first. Jax doesn’t even know if he has organs–he’s never thought about it before. He doesn’t want to find out, not like this. He certainly doesn’t want his insides floating in some jar to rot in a mad man’s storage. 

A mad man that’s an NPC, which makes it all so much worse. Just a plaything of Caine’s that he’ll ask for feedback on later.

The scientist’s hand returns to his waist, pressing into his body. None of this feels scientific. 

He bends down to one of Jax’s flopped ears,“I mean it when I say you’re beautiful,” he whispers. The scientist plants a long kiss on his neck. Jax shudders again, squeezing his eyes tight. Please, please, please, not this . Anything else . 

The fabric of his overalls are pooled around his hips, and the scientist’s hands slide underneath, and then-

The metal door slams open with so much force it falls to the floor with a bang, dust rising into the air.

“I am filled with so much power right now! Holy [BOINK!]! Gangle, I understand.”

Jax hears Ragatha.

Ragatha? That can’t be right.

“I think this is the scientist’s room,” he hears Kinger, now, too.

“Jax!” she yells at the sight of him. The scientist's hands are finally off of him, but the hands are still on his wrists and he’s not safe, he can’t be safe, nothing feels right.

The scientist is there, and then he’s not, turned to dust from Ragatha’s fist. “Woah, woah ,” she breathes, gaping at her hands and too caught up in the amazement of her own strength to focus on their half-naked companion.

Then, “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.”

Gangle reaches him first.

“Jax?” she asks cautiously, but all he sees is that screen and the incessant buzzing in his ears and hands on him and he violently jerks away from her touch, as much as he can while stuck in place.

“No, no, no, don’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t,” spills from his mouth before he can think twice about it. He's not thinking much at all.

He keeps forgetting where he is, keeps feeling everything too much. It’s all too much.

Gangle freezes in place, looking at someone Jax can’t see, and he can confidently say this is the worst trip or high or whatever of his life. His skin won’t stop crawling and the hands are still there and it doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon.

Gangle’s talking to someone, but Jax doesn’t listen, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe desperately.

He hears Zooble say something. Someone responds, he can’t keep up.

“We need to get Jax out of here, now,” they say, and he agrees. He needs the hands off of him.

He opens his eyes for a second then shuts them immediately, the fluorescent lights exacerbating the migraine pounding in his head. He might have whimpered, he’s not sure–he’s not really sure of anything. 

“I think the lights are bothering him,” he hears Pomni now. Is everyone here, seeing him like this? He shivers despite himself.

The lights are turned off. He opens his eyes, but he doesn’t have the energy to be there anymore. Maybe this is that bleak obedience the scientist was talking about.

He looks at the ceiling and the swirl of patterns that emerge with a strange mania. Distantly, Kinger says something. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what happens, he just needs to be gone.

“We need to get him off the table. Jax, do you think you can walk?” Kinger asks him gently.

Jax doesn’t respond.

“Jax?” Gangle repeats, wishing, for the first time ever, that he’d insult her. Jax was always unbothered. Seeing a very bothered Jax is too bizarre, too unsettling.

His eyes were glazed over, tears trickling down his face from time to time.

“I don’t think… he’s here with us. He’s checked out,” Zooble says.

Pomni picks up the notepad abandoned on the tray, scanning through its notes. 

“His handwriting is horrible,” she mutters “I can’t read a word of this.”

She stops at a certain note, “I know how Jax got caught.”

Ragatha, no longer influenced by the power-up drug, finally takes in the scene before her. She starts with Pomni’s comment first.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“The power-up he took?” Pomni responds, “It wasn’t a power-up. It was poison.”

“That [BOINK!],” Zooble growls, “I knew Caine wasn’t telling us something.”

“I doubt Caine meant to,” Kinger points out, “He doesn’t understand humans.”

Zooble looks off to the side, still angry nonetheless.

“It looks like the scientist had given him a second poison,” she squints at the barely-legible writing, “to examine its effects?”

“We still need to get out of here,” Zooble reminds the group, “How are we going to do that with Jax like this?”

“Let’s get him off the table first,” Pomni frowns. Must Caine always add such traumatizing elements to the adventures?

She’s just glad she wasn’t the one caught up in it for a change.

Then again, she isn’t certain you can disassociate the inherent trauma from any experience in the digital circus.

Kinger moves before the rest of them do. “I’ll see if I can get him to wake up a bit. Why don’t the rest of you try to find a better way out? Or some tools we could use?”

Pomni is really, really glad it’s so dark in the mad scientist’s lair. She doesn’t know how to deal with any of this, and Kinger should really be the “leader” of the group in any case.

The others look amongst themselves warily.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ragatha agrees. “Let’s check the space upstairs.”

As they follow her up the creaky, metal stairs, Pomni steals one last look at Jax. 

“So, what do you think the scientist really had planned?” Gangle asks quietly, in a scared tone. 

“Nothing,” Zooble replies a second too quickly. “Jax is just drugged up, he’ll be back to his annoying old self once it wears off. Probably before it wears off, realistically.” 

“Do you think Caine can take away the effects?”

Ragatha turns at that, “He didn’t take away the effects when I was on the stupid sauce. I had to wait it out because it wasn’t a physical injury.”

“Why was Jax undressed if the scientist only wanted to experiment with the drugs?” Pomni questions aloud. An eerie silence follows, and she wonders if maybe she should be quiet from now on.

“Let’s just find a way out of here,” Zooble grunts.

Ragatha puts a hand on Pomni’s shoulder, smiling gently, “One thing at a time, okay?” 

Pomni can’t help but notice the smile doesn’t reach her face. 

…

“Jax, can you get up?”

Jax hears the voice, although muffled. He’s not sure he wants to get up yet. Five more minutes. 

He’s aware enough to know this isn’t the scientist, and that’s a small mercy.

His head rolls to the side, his eyes opening slowly. Purple. Purple robe.

“I knew your robe was purple,” he mutters.

“Ah, you’re awake. Do you think you can stand?” 

Jax doesn’t respond. 

“Well, first thing’s first, let’s get you dressed.”

Kinger undoes all of the straps binding his limbs, and Jax feels like he can breathe again.  

As Kinger reaches to pull up his overalls, though, Jax flinches backwards, almost falling off the table and panting wildly.

“Woah, woah, Jax,” Kinger’s hands rose next to his head. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Wha?” jumbles out of his mouth, “Wha’s going on?”

“We’re getting out of here. Can you trust me?”

Jax’s eyebrows furrow, nonrespondant. 

“Okay,” Kinger breathes out, “I’m just going to put the straps back on.” 

Kinger carefully sits him up, fixing the overall straps. Jax holds his breath the whole time.

“Okay, done. Can you stand?”

Jax still doesn’t respond, staring in front of him.

“Let’s try,” Kinger coaxes, helping Jax off the surgical table.

He collapses immediately, caught at the last second by Kinger’s hand.

“That’s fine,” he reassures, “I can help you back. You’re okay.”

The world is spinning again, and Jax groans lightly. His head is still killing him, and he’s so confused and impossibly disoriented and he’s gotten real tired of the symbols and shapes that lazily emerge from the tables and the floors and the ceiling and his clothes and everywhere he looks.

“Why’re you helping me?” he slurs out, trying to keep his head level. All of his thoughts seem to repeat in his head over and over again.

“Everyone deserves support, Jax,” Kinger reminds him gently, like he really means it. Unbelievable. 

Jax scoffs, “Whatevr.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“The world’s spinnin’,” he admits.

“Are you hurt anywhere? What did the scientist do?”

“My head hurts.”

Kinger pauses to give him a once over, “You cut your arm, but it looks okay. Caine can fix it anyway,” He examines the rabbit's head, “I don’t see any injuries, so it’s likely the poison. Except,” his eyes lock on the appearing bruise on his neck. Kinger chooses not to say anything. 

“Yeah, you’re okay,” he concludes.  

Then, Gangle calls from upstairs, “We found a shortcut! Come up!”

“Shortcut smortcut,” Jax mumbles, his vision still bleary.

Kinger stumbles up the stairs, trying to keep Jax balanced.

They finally make it to the top, the lights off upstairs, too. 

“It’s through here,” Pomni points to a now-open door. “It was behind a bookshelf.”

“Basic,” Zooble mumbles. They turn to look at Jax and Kinger. “Is he good?”

“He will be,” Kinger decides to say. 

Zooble looks at Jax oddly. Jax wants to disappear, wants desperately for everyone to not see him like this. It's humiliating.

“What if there’s another monster in the shortcut… Like the gloink queen?” Pomni asks. “We don’t have any more potions, and,” she looks at Jax, “I don’t want to take the risk of drinking one of the ones in the lab.”

Jax looks up at Pomni. She seems surprised he meets her eye at all. 

“Pomni, guess what,” he slurs the interruption, smiling strangely.

Her eyes flit to the side, “Uhhh… what?”

“We bleed black.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, looksie,” he giggles, showing off the wound on his arm. “I figured it out and Caine got it wrong.”

“Ohhhh,” Pomni frowns. “You… didn’t have to do that?”

She pauses then, thinking, “Did you do that, or the scientist?”

“Please, that was all me. My credit,” he huffs, “The scientist was gross, he-” he cuts himself off abruptly, deciding he’d rather not talk about the scientist ever again. His eyebrows furrow.

The thought of the NPC makes him want to hurl. 

He decides his shoes are safer to look at, see if there’s any more of those pesky maggots from earlier.

Jax hears his name, but, at this point, he wants to stare at nothing until he can return to his room in the circus. None of his business. None of his business. 

He focuses on the buzzing he’s been hearing since the poison kicked in like a lifeline. He’s tired of the weird patterns, the weird memories, the weird glances. This day needs to be over.

“I’m not going back in that maze,” Zooble grunts.

“At least we know this shortcut leads to the end,” Gangle adds.

Pomni deflates a little, still frowning at Jax, “Yeah, that’s true.”

“We’ll just have to take the risk, I guess,” Ragatha says, looking down the dark hallway wearily. “Anyone want to go first?”

No one moves. Ragatha sighs and strides forward.

It’s a narrow hallway, barely big enough for Kinger to squeeze through while supporting Jax. The rabbit by his side was yet to say anything else, and it was really concerning him.

Conflicting, too, because Kinger knows by the time they return to the circus, he won’t be helpful to the group anymore. 

Not until the lights are off again.

“Do you see anything?” Gangle calls out to Ragatha, who was still leading the group through the tunnel.

They’d been walking for a while now. The only consolation was that it was peaceful, and didn’t involve potions or monsters or mazes. 

“No…” she sighs, defeated. “Wait, I think I see something!” 

Her pace picks up as she rushes ahead. “Yeah, there’s a room coming up.”

“See any monsters?” Pomni asks.

“No! Thank god,” Ragatha almost cheers, “There’s a [BOING!] portal, finally.”

“Is it just me, or did this adventure feel longer than usual,” Gangle asks.

“I don’t think you need an answer,” Pomni mumbles. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

All in all, Jax spends enough time in the poison-induced daze that he misses the next day's adventure.

To his knowledge–which is admittedly little–after their return to the circus, he took a supervised, borderline-comatose nap on the couches. Eventually, Jax made his way back to his room where he locked the door and hasn’t let in a single soul since. He doesn’t remember what he dreamed, but the unsettling hold of his unconscious lingers in the margins of his mind.  

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jax buries his head in his hands. What the actual fuck. What the hell was any of that?

He seriously doesn’t know how he’s going to face the others–whenever Caine inevitably forces him to join in on an adventure again. 

Jax can’t tell if he’s still tripping: the buzzing hasn’t stopped, and he’s never felt more tired in his life, and every now and then, if he turns his head too quickly, he swears he sees double. He feels disgusting, too, like there’s a grime on him he can’t get off. Nothing feels right.

Why Caine thought poison would be fun and entertaining he’ll never understand. Asshole.

He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, pressing until he can see stars.

What the hell happened when he was out? How much did the others see?

Jax remembers taking the poison, the scientist capturing him, but it’s foggy after that. Vaguely, he knows Kinger (of all people) helped him return to the circus. 

Maybe it’s time to get up and face the world. There’s still a way to move past this with his dignity intact. Break Gangle’s mask; divert the attention away from him. In the natural flow of the circus, that’s how things tend to go. Jax just has to endure the first awkward week until everyone forgets. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, no one else can, and he’ll hold the power again. 

He rises slowly from his bed, still a little dizzy. Seriously, what the fuck was in that poison?

Jax lumbers over to his mirror. If he’s facing the world after the shitshow of the past two days he needs to look normal, presentable. Untouchable.

His eyes look tired. Jax notices that first, but it’s fine. Really, he can blame most everything on the drugs. It’s no problem that he got kidnapped by some insane NPC. No problem. No problem at all. 

But then, what’s that on his neck? He touches the spot lightly, almost imperceptible in his purple fur. A bright violet mark that definitely wasn’t there before, so when did it…?

He stumbles forward, knocking a book off of his desk with a bang. Jax’s eyes widen, a headache emerging all over again, his breath picking up. When… Who…?

The scientist. That fucking NPC.

Suddenly, Jax is assaulted by the onslaught of memories he had blocked out. He wishes for the return of disassociative peace. 

He doesn’t remember everything, just bits and pieces, but that tells enough of a story on its own. 

In particular, Jax is plagued by the sensation of his limbs strapped down, and the NPC kissing his neck. It repeats in his head the same way he couldn’t forget the sound of the shepard’s tone in Spudsy’s. The way he still can’t.

It’s fine. It’s fine. He doesn’t care. It was just an NPC. It was barely real.

Maybe that’d be more consoling if he wasn’t violently shaking, nausea climbing up his throat, eyes dilating into small squares. He tries to take a deep breath, his lungs rattling.

Fuck. What else happened when he was out? Does he even want to know?

His hands grip the edge of his desk, his skin crawling. He looks down at his gloved hands. Fucking hands. He’s so sick of it, so sick of being touched, so sick of the hands that won’t get off of him. 

“[BOING] it,” he snaps, bringing his fist down on the desk. “Ugh.”

Just breathe. He needs to breathe. This is fine. He is fine. Nothing he hasn’t handled before. 

His brows furrow. Before…? Great, now his memories are all jostled. 

The migraine rattles his head. He clutches the side of his face wearily. 

There’s a pound on the door. Someone keeps knocking. Can they shut the fuck up? He needs to think.

Wait. Knocking. Someone at the door?

Jax sucks in a quick breath. One more for good measure. He’s fine, and he’ll show them, and everything will go back to normal.

He swings open the door, casually leaning on its frame. He wills his hands to stop shaking.

“Yes?”

Ragatha and Pomni are outside. He shouldn’t be surprised. The two have become quite nosy. 

“Ah, Jax!” Pomni spurts out, like she wasn’t expecting him to answer, “We didn’t know if you were up yet, um…”

An awkward silence follows. 

“Well, did you want to tell me anything or did you just miss me?”

“We were wondering if you wanted to join us at the couches. Everyone else is there–we just got back from the adventure,” Ragatha explains. 

He can tell she’s worried about him and it disgusts him. 

Jax shrugs, “Sure.” He has to be normal.

Pomni looks at him suspiciously, “Really?”

He gives her a cheshire smile, “Of course. I missed you guys, for one.”

Her eyes flicker to Ragatha. Clearly this wasn’t Pomni’s idea.

“Great!” Ragatha smiles. “Let’s get going, then.”

Jax follows the two down the halls. Ragatha checks he's still there every other step. He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to get caught by some NPC again,” his smile tightens. 

“Yeah, um,” must this be so awkward? “I’ve been meaning to ask about that. Are you okay? That seemed like a lot,” Pomni starts.

“I’m doing just fine. It was like a bad trip, or a bad high, that’s all.” He jabs Pomni with his elbow, “You ever smoke too much weed?”

Pomni ignores the question. “Are you sure?” she asks, “You know, when we found you… you were.. Really out of it.”

Jax wants to talk about something different, “How’d you guys end up defeating the NPC?”

“An actual power-up potion,” Ragatha fills in, “It was crazy. I turned him to dust in one punch!”

“Ugh,” Jax complains, “Can’t believe Caine wasted the real power-up potion on you guys.”

Can't believe I got the poison, he thinks bitterly.

By this time, they’ve reached the couches, the other members of the circus looking at Jax curiously.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t drunk the potion all by yourself,” Zooble mumbles.

Jax glares at them, “Hey, I did you all a favor. You all would’ve–” he pauses, “Wait, where’s Kinger?”

“He’s in his pillow fort,” Gangle says quietly. 

“Oh,” he mutters. “Where did you guys even go?"

Jax tries to ignore the way his skin hasn't stopped crawling, the rigid tension in every one of his limbs. He's fine. He's fine.

“It was really nice!” Gangle smiles. Jax notices she still has her comedy mask intact. He’s got to fix that. “We cooked some food as part of a game and had a picnic.”

“Ew,” Jax scoffs, “That sounds unbearably boring.” 

Zooble rolls their eyes. 

Jax jumps onto the couch cushion, right next to Gangle. “Say, Gangle, you haven’t broken that comedy mask, yet,” he leers. 

“Uhh…” her hands raise to her mask defensively.

“Aww, don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything.”

Gangle stands to sit further away from the rabbit. Poor choice, really.

He sticks his foot out under her, laughing at the sound of the shatter.

“Aww..”

“Jax,” Ragatha groans. “You do this everyday.”

“Yeah, you think you all would be used to it by now,” he shrugs.

“Please, he’s probably still high, or whatever,” Zooble grunts.

“You wish.”

“I do, actually,” Zooble admits, “It was nice to be around a quiet Jax who’s not trying to [BOINK!] with everyone. You [BOING!]ing listened to what you were told for once.”

Obedient, Jax’s memory supplies. He flinches back. This grants him concerned looks.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well, at least I didn’t [BOING!] up a singular shift,” he grumbles.

Gangle frowns. 

Maybe bringing up Spudsy’s was overcompensation on Jax’s part, but it does the trick.

“Hey, now, Gangle did her best,” Ragatha defends, “Why can’t you just leave her alone?”

“I don’t know,” Jax says, “Why don’t we ask Gangle?”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Gangle’s sweating. Only the guilty sweat. Jax narrows his eyes, rising and taking a threatening step towards her.

“So you did know about it,” he growls.

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

“Spill it or I’ll make you,” Jax threatens, “let the audience know what you are,” he waves a hand out in no particular direction. 

Gangle roughly wipes the tears from her mask, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump in front of that truck! I should have closed the restaurant like I was supposed to!”

Jax halts. The rest of the circus looks at Gangle.

“What?” he asks.

“I-I mean, what else would you be talking about?” Gangle sniffles, “I’m sorry for being such a bad boss.”

“Gangle…” Pomni mutters. 

“Jax, lay off her,” Ragatha says, moving to comfort Gangle. 

“No, it wasn’t…” Jax begins in a mutter, but ends the sentence abruptly. So Gangle didn’t know what happened during his 'reevaluation training.' Whatever. It’s cool.

“Wait, so if you weren’t talking about the truck…” Zooble shoots Gangle a worried glance, “What are you talking about?”

Jax’s eyes flit to the side.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just knew she was hiding something.”

“Why don’t I believe you, then?” they press.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Jax smiles. 

He’s normal, he’s fine, and the last two adventures have not turned his somewhat-stable existence upside down.

“Right…”

…

Jax is very normal for the next few days. If anyone tells you he’s been excessively violent… Not at all! Jax has been adequately violent. Perfectly violent. Normally violent. Normal. Very normal.

He already broke Gangle’s mask today, of course. Actually, she tripped and it fell off, and he caught it for her–out of the kindness of his heart.

It made it all the more sweet when Jax broke it in half himself.

The circus gets particularly tired, however, when he bashes an NPC’s head in for getting too close.

Pomni holds back a barf, “Ugh, does it have to be so realistic?”

“Jax,” Ragatha grabs his arm, which was winding up to hit the mangled NPC again, “Stop.” 

Jax freezes. He’s really hating when people touch him lately. 

“So, how do we finish the adventure when Jax just killed the guy meant to give us directions?” Zooble asks, arms crossed. 

Caine has not been letting them skip the adventures lately. They have been consistently unhappy about it. 

Jax plucks his arm from Ragatha’s hand, discarding the NPC. “Please, Caine will get us if we take too long.”

“Do we have a way back?” Gangle asks, avoiding looking at Jax. 

“‘Do we have a way back?’” he mocks. “Just keep walking. Pathetic.”

“I mean, what is your deal with Gangle lately?!” Ragatha shouts, but Jax remains quiet.

Turns out, they’re not totally alone in the forest. 

“Thank God,” Pomni mutters. 

A traveling scientist is ahead of them on the trail. Caine does love reusing NPCs. Jax’s fights the nausea climbing up his throat. He tries to ground himself. He’s in the woods, not… there. He's fine.

“Not another scientist!” Kinger yells.

Jax is glad they’re on the same page. That sends enough of a message to the rest of the circus.

Zooble whips around, “Jax, do not do anything to this one. Please.”

Jax ignores his heart’s palpitations and the discomfort overwhelming him, shrugging. “When have I ever hurt a single soul?” He's not on edge. He's fine.

“Uhhh… just now?” Pomni replies. 

“Nah,” he says. 

“Jax,” Zooble seems desperate, “I want to go home and chill in my room. You can understand that, right?”

“Sure,” he says.

“Then don’t kill this one.”

“Alright,” he agrees.

“Really?” they question.

“Really,” he assures. “I won’t do anything.”

Jax walks up to the NPC.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the Maple Kingdom is, would you? We have a very important delivery to deliver.”

Caine’s been testing out different NPC quests lately. This one depends on them seeking out traveling information so they can deliver some fuckshit boxes to some fuckshit king. He’s also tweaked the recent adventures to be less horrific, due to some requests–which is seriously a recipe for dangerous boredom.

A great way to spend the day: on a long journey, by foot, when you’d really like to be alone.

The NPC says exactly what he wants them to say. “Thank you,” he says sweetly. Jax looks over at the others with a smile. They all look so relaxed now. 

Jax grabs one of Zooble’s limbs.

“Jax!” they warn.

Jax slams the hand down on the NPC, unable to hold back his laughter. Zooble’s detached arm struggles in vain. He strikes again and again and again and something cracks, but, hey, let’s keep hitting just to be certain, and, suddenly, Ragatha’s pulling him backwards.

“What’s the big deal? I’m not killing it,” he spits, shaking her off and moving towards the poor NPC again. 

“Jax! NO!” Ragatha shouts. She tackles him, pinning him down on the dirt path. “You have got to chill out!”

Her hands are on his wrists. Her hands are on his wrists, and, suddenly, nothing’s okay all over again. Jax’s breath picks up despite himself, and his head is rushing through too many thoughts and he just doesn’t want to feel through this all over again. 

Zooble snatches their limb from the ground, glaring at Jax all the while.

“Jax, what the [BOINK!] is your problem?” they snarl.

Jax blinks a few times, a few times too fast. God, he’s sick of this. Sick of forgetting where he is and who he’s with and if he’s being hung by hands or kissed by some sick man and, and he hates the fucking countryside while we’re at it, and he hates how quickly he loses himself in it all. He needs to be composed, normal.

Ragatha’s still scolding him. Something about how he can’t keep torturing everyone and being nice and whatever people pleasing bullshit she’s always on. She can’t see it doesn’t fucking matter because he doesn’t care and he can’t breathe.

“Jax?” he hears the muffled voice, but he can’t respond. He just has to breathe. 

Ragatha’s weight is off of him; he sits up immediately, panting.

“Jax?” Ragatha’s calling him again. She kneels next to him, a hesitant hand hovering close. 

He can’t. He can’t. He’s fine, he’s fine; all of this is fine. He just needs to calm down. It’s nothing.

“I don’t know, I-” she’s talking to someone else now. Jax hears bits and pieces of their conversation floating in his head, trying to discern if this is just another memory or a nightmare or if this is a real moment he’s really experiencing right now.

Someone’s hand is on his shoulder and he growls, jerking backwards. Jax would be surprised with his reaction if his head wasn’t drowning in oppressive panic.

It’s Pomni. “Woah, hey, Jax. You’re okay. We’re on the way to Maple Kingdom, remember?”

Maple Kingdom? That’s right. They’re still in the woods, following the trail to deliver whatever cargo Caine told them to. Jax takes a cautious look around. 

He catches sight of the (bashed-in) NPC, pupils dilating again. Fuck. Jax needs to kill that thing or get away, he can’t choose which. He’s stumbling up from the ground when Pomni calls his attention back to her.

“Jax, do you remember what the delivery is?”

The question catches him off guard. His eyes narrow, crossing his arms warily. What the hell is she talking about?

“Pomni, that’s an empty box,” he says flatly, though his voice still wavers.

“Uh, is it really?” she presses. “I’ve got it right here,” she grabs it from Gangle, “and it feels pretty heavy.”

Jax doesn’t notice, but Ragatha drags the scientist’s body into some bushes.

“Are you stupid?” he asks genuinely. He rips the box from her hand, opening it with ease. “It’s empty, dip[BOING!].” 

Jax throws it back at her face.

“Oh, uh, silly me,” she says. 

Jax’s brows furrow. What was that all about? He takes in an unsteady breath, looking around again. Right. The Maple Kingdom. 

He gets up as though nothing happened, dusting off his overalls, and looks at the circus with an impatient air.

“Well, what are you guys waiting for?”

“Okay, seriously?” Zooble looks more annoyed than usual. “You killed an NPC with my arm,” they say this with a growl, “And you literally just had a panic attack.”

“I’m fine,” Jax says. 

“Are you?”  Pomni asks.

“I’m fine,” he repeats.

“Jax, you can be honest with us,” Ragatha tries, looking at him like she’s actually concerned for him. Ridiculous.

“I’m fine,” this time a bit more forcefully.

“When you got back from the maze adventure, you were–” Gangle starts.

Jax whips around, glaring at her, “You know, I’d feel better if you were quiet.”

“I-”

“Just shut up,” Jax feels a headache begin to burn in his skull. He always has a headache now, it seems. 

“Gangle’s just trying to be nice,” Pomni defends.

“Nice is silence,” he sneers. “Let’s just get this adventure over with.”

He looks around, “Where the [BOINK!] is Kinger?”

They’re in the woods. A forest filled with insects. 

“You’re kidding me,” Jax growls.

…

They end up spending most of the adventure searching for Kinger, Jax grumbling all the while, the others avoiding Jax while simultaneously keeping a constant eye on him. 

“I’m not going to disappear,” he eventually bites.

Ragatha sighs, “Jax, we’re just worried about you.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Jax,” and, wow, she does sound worried, “You need to talk to someone. You’re not okay.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“None of us believe that, and I don’t think you do either.”

“You know Jax,” Gangle slows her pace to walk evenly with the other two, “I’m always here to talk if you need to… I’m sure anyone else would be.”

Jax hates when Gangle is all sad and pathetic, but he’s really starting to despise it when she’s nice to him. 

He snorts, “You’re all talking out of your [BOINK!] right now. Gangle, if I need help, trust me you won’t be hearing about it.”

Something snaps in Gangle, “I just don’t get it, what is your problem with me?!”

The outburst makes Jax stop in his tracks.

“I mean, you’re horrible to everyone, but why me?” her voice turns teary, “Why me?”

“Oh, please, don’t make this about yourself.”

“And now he’s mad we’re not talking about him,” he hears Zooble grumble under their breath. Jax gives them a quick look, turning back to Gangle, who’s still glaring at him, her ribbon hands balled into fists.

She screeches in frustration, “I’ve literally never done anything to you and now I’m just trying to be nice, what’s your DEAL?” she yells. 

“It’s pathetic,” Gangle spits.

That ticks Jax off. 

“What’s my deal?” he laughs. Honestly, Jax can admit to himself that the past week, or however long it’s been, has been a dumpster fire–and that’s putting it kindly. What he won’t deal with is another pouty Gangle everyone else supports like that brat of a ribbon doesn’t have sharp edges, too. 

“My deal,” he takes a step toward Gangle menacingly. She takes a step back. “My deal is this little act you put on for everyone else like you’re not capable of some darker [BOING!] too. I mean, come on, ‘reevaluation training?’” Jax puts a hand on his hip, scowling. 

“‘Reevaluation training?’” Gangle repeats, confused at first. Then, some recognition glimmers in her eyes. “Wasn’t it just an exam?”

Jax smiles in a nervous sweat. Shit. He did not mean to bring that up. Now the others were all looking at him, waiting for him to explain, and he didn’t want to talk about this, ever. 

“No, it wasn’t just an exam,” he grits out. 

“I, what-” she begins, but Jax interrupts.

“C’mon. In what scenario has Caine ever been normal about any kind of consequence? Half of the adventures are based on murder and gore for [BOINK!]’s sake. He's unhinged,” he snarks sourly. 

“Is that why you were acting so off after?” Pomni asks, looking between Jax and Gangle with a mix of curiosity and concern. 

“It wasn’t just an exam,” he finalizes, crossing his arms.

“Wait, so what happened?” Ragatha asks.

“I, I thought it was just a test, and you had to retake it if you failed,” Gangle tries to explain herself. “What was it, Jax?”

Jax really doesn’t know how to get himself out of this one. If he explains the reevaluation training, he might as well explain the NPC, and if he does that, why not spill about his old, shitty home-life; how trapped he’s felt his entire life that he was fucking relieved to be stuck here in this hell?

If he gives a little, maybe they’ll leave it alone–though, that strategy’s never worked out for him.

“There was an NPC version of you talking on the screen.” Gangle’s frown deepens. Jax is sure it’d be unsettling to hear Caine made an NPC version of you, he just doesn’t care. 

“I wasn’t smiling. So a [BOING!]ing torture chair spawned in, held me in the air, and the TV flashed and,” he stumbles in his words, abandoning the brevity he was hoping to maintain, “and this [BOINK!]ing tune kept playing and the TV was flashing and it wouldn’t stop,” he holds the side of his head, “and I was stuck there for- for for ever, I don’t- I don’t know how long.”

He stares off for a second, rubbing his wrist, his mind cluttered with memories he’d rather not revisit; those damn hands on his wrists and his legs and the noise that never stopped, flashing that never stopped, a smile that could never crack. 

No agency. It felt like Jax has never had any agency in his life at all–just the few moments of peace while waiting for the next shoe to drop. He was so stupid to think he had any control, especially over his life. Especially over his body.

Jesus, he’s a fucking purple rabbit with yellow teeth and eyes in a world created by AI. It’s so ridiculously absurd. 

“J-Jax, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know that would happen, I swear!” and now Gangle's obsessively apologizing, which is perfect. She’s more hysterical than him, tripping over her own ‘sorry’s.

Remorse has always made him want to disappear.

“I don’t need your apology.”

“Jax, that’s not okay,” Zooble urges.

He scoffs, “What’s a sorry gonna do? It’s whatever. I don’t want it, don’t need it.” 

“No, I mean,” they correct themselves, “what happened to you. That’s not okay.”

This is all starting to feel too uncomfortable for him. Too uncanny.

“Ugh, just, we need to find Kinger.”

He storms off into the woods, quickly leaving the group behind.

Zooble turns to Gangle. “Did you know about the reevaluation training?”

“No!” she defends quickly, “I really, really didn’t know.”

“But you asked Caine for a punishment,” they state. Zooble hadn’t forgotten that. They wouldn’t ever say it to their friend, but the moment had made them look at her differently–regardless of the plastic mask.

Gangle looks guilty. “I did, um.. I did do that. I didn’t think…” She plays with her hands, avoiding looking at the group.

“I’m really sorry,” she sniffles, “I wanted the adventure to be successful and I wanted to make sure of it. Working fast-food sucked , but I just wanted to feel normal again. I thought I could make it a good experience with you guys but I became too controlling again.”

Gangle wipes the tears from their eyes as Zooble rests a claw on their shoulder. They can’t stay mad at them, not like this.

Especially not knowing what she did after that dreadful shift.

“Gangle, hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know. Caine always takes it too far and… that was a weird day.”

“So, does Caine always code in punishments?” Pomni asks nervously. 

“Not really, that I remember,” Ragatha taps her chin.

“Oh good, it’s a new development,” Pomni mutters. 

“Shouldn’t we follow Jax?” Ragatha asks, looking in the direction he left.

“I don’t know. I feel like we should give him space..” Gangle says. Though maybe it’s that she doesn’t want to face him just yet.

Zooble crosses their arms, leaning against a tree. “This adventure sucks.”

…

Kinger had been inspecting an ant hill about ten feet from the trail this entire time. All that walking for nothing.

Jax slumps over, sitting by the base of a maple tree, and looking at the chess piece with a blank stare.

“Oh, Jax! There you are. Look, I found this ant hill!”

“Yeah, that’s great Kinger.”

“I’ve been watching them bring food to the nest for awhile now. Their organization is so wonderful--they way they help each other out as a thriving colony. You can make out where they lay their pheromones by the paths they take, see?”

Jax does not look at the ants. “Wow, super,” he says flatly.

Kinger doesn’t notice, continuing his ramble, a constant stream of white noise. In a way, Jax appreciates it. He could use the meaningless distraction. He needs desperately not to think. 

“[BOINK!] me,” he breathes out. 

Chapter Text

Jax wants to tear his head off, which, to be fair, isn’t anything new.

Ever since he let loose about the reevaluation training, everyone has been walking on eggshells around him.

It’s taken the fun out of pranking. Why leave centipedes in someone’s room if they’ll pity put up with it? The joy is clearly in the anger and distress factor of it all. It’s an art now endlessly desecrated because the others feel sorry for him. Pathetic.

He really shouldn’t have mentioned the training. It wasn’t a big deal. He survived, nothing even really happened, he was just uncomfortable for, what? An hour? Whatever.

So, why did he have to say anything about it?

Like, Gangle? She’s been fucking insufferable. He stopped breaking her mask because she always goes on and on about how she deserves it. Oh, and that she’s so sorry, too. He can’t stand it. Have some dignity.

Ragatha still yelled at him when he broke the comedy mask, but the classic righteous fury was gone.

Jax has been so used to everyone being mad at him his entire life that he’d never considered how awful it was to receive their concern. The pit in his stomach grew by the day; the unsettling nature of this newfound dynamic was not lost on him.

Just when he got a handle on how and when people are mad at him, the rug pulled out from under his feet all over again. He really can’t keep up.

In a twisted way, he almost wishes that horrible high never ended because at least he could be overtly catatonic and no one would bother him about it. He wouldn’t have to think, either. He could sleep forever.

Instead, he’s become rather reclusive, which is a dangerous thing to be in the circus. Jax has found there’s a lot to think about. That trip–that entire day, though he loathes to think of it–unraveled something in him. It left him dangerously introspective.

The empty notebook Caine gifted them all, which had been rotting on his desk since he forcibly joined the digital circus, now has scribbles littering the pages.

Jax just needs to figure himself out. Reorient his self-perception, smooth out the edges a little, so things can go back to normal and no one will look at him like he’s one bad day away from abstracting.

His thoughts have crept to the idyllic landscapes of his childhood, where he decided he’d rather fill his lungs with the smog of concrete cities; where people run wild in their own misery rather than the conservative, restrained atittudes of the rural towns that gather ‘round mountain bases like nooses.

Maybe that’s why Ragatha’s always rubbed him the wrong way. She tries to act so perfect, it must remind him of home.

Jax never understood the obsession. There’s so few people around, why not be honest about who you are?

On the other hand, he is in a circus where it's uncertain whether anyone has ever shown their true side–including himself. Nothing exists without its shadow, even here.

Funny. He left the small shitstain of a town just to end up in an even more intimate setting.

Fewer people means it’s easier to pay close attention, easier to control the narrative if you’re privileged enough to hold the microphone. Which is exactly how he ended up meeting that girl.

He taps his pen on the table. 

Jax had known her his entire life, though he’s long forgotten what her name was–as he has with most of those minor yet significant details since arriving at the circus. They grew up together from tiny elementary school to tinier high school. Maybe they sat next to each other in chemistry, he wasn’t sure.

See, Jax had a pretty good thing going for him in highschool. He skipped his classes as any aspiring student would; he loved to say his engineering career began with the gravity bongs he lit up in his car. He used a coke can once in a desperate moment.

Of course, Jax never got around to that engineering career. What did he do, again?

Bum it out in the city, spiral, smoke more… Things were only just getting exciting once he got an in with that group which explored abandoned buildings and old tunnels littered throughout the outstretched metropolis.

If you can call probable asbestos exposure a win, that is.

His affinity for drugs made him popular with the other assholes in his hometown. They’d smoke and take someone's Jeep and go mudding in the mountains, occasionally drive the car into a ditch, every now and then wreck a nice one.

Jax had a shitty, worn out car with excessive mileage that he had bought from his parents, but the other boys got nice cars gifted on their birthdays.

It never mattered if they fucked up a car. They’d call their mothers, a little teary-voiced, sounding uber apologetic, because they didn’t mean to drag the Jeep through a bunch of trees while trying to drag it out of the woods it got stuck in because they maybe drank half a handle beforehand. It’s just superficial scratches in the paint if you ignore the sickening crunches.

He’d listen to their mother’s response on the speakerphone, the boys all ready to muffle their snickers if she got angry. Usually the parent in question did, but only for a minute at most–which confused Jax because he always considered rage to sink its claws into an entire day. They didn’t even yell properly. They barely raised their voices and they rarely insulted.

For them, though, their parents’ frustration would always break into that of weary resignation. The same old, “Oh, honey, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Jax had been planning his escape to the city for a while. He could feel himself rotting from the inside out in that town, surrounded by a bunch of losers whose lives were going to be handed to them on a silver platter.

He remembers the rigid exhaustion of his nerves, always listening for who was walking around in the house, stepping lightly on the floors so as not to endure the dull agony of several hours of on-and-off yelling-fests loaded with physical threats Jax had a penchant for narrowly avoiding.

Jax knows he’s a stupid piece of shit, no good brat that everyone will hate for the rest of his life. His parents really weren’t wrong about that. He just couldn’t stand living with them anymore: couldn’t stand the dread of waking up everyday, every rehearsed conversation; the way they acted perfect in public even though they always lost their patience and wound up quietly telling him off and grabbing his arm tight when other people weren’t looking. Jax isn’t sure his parents ever knew anything about him–just some character he made up to stay under the radar the best he could.

For a long time Jax’s responses were disproportionate: he’d insult and yell back. They’d yell louder, and how dare he defy his parents; how dare he think he’s anything but the scum of the earth compared to them.

It only got worse by the time he was near graduating high school. He basically lived in his car because it was better than living amidst ever-festering anger. Jax returned home only when he needed to, and his parents would jab at how he only came when he wanted something and how he abandoned them and hated them and how he must think they’re such shitty parents like he tells his friends. Like he’s such an angel and don’t they know how hard he was to raise? How tirelessly difficult he was growing up–how endlessly difficult he still is? And they did their best, they did, he’s just an ungrateful brat.

Maybe he was shoved around once or twice. He can’t remember, but he can still feel the thick threat of physical intimidation, the fury that pierced his very soul, and the adrenaline rush that made him flinch backwards and run.

Jax was looking for an out, and he made that clear. His shitty job being paid minimum wage at the gas station wasn’t going to cut it if he ever wanted to escape. He needed something better, somewhere reliable, where he could score more than a few grand in a summer so he could get the fuck out of there and never return. He didn’t owe anyone anything–but for this, he might need a favor.

The heaven-send arrived at a party held in his friend’s basement while their parents were out of town. He doesn’t remember much about the friend except that his house was nice and he was stupid enough to leave the liquor cabinet unlocked and unsupervised. Jax’s head was spinning, and he knew he shouldn’t have smoked on top of all those shots, but then that girl came over and asked what he was up to.

He remembered her parents own the country club, and everyone in town knew that if you worked there you made serious money. You don’t pass up on the prospect of rich people tips. So, he told her he really needed the job, he needed to get out, and she seemed sympathetic enough–pressed all close to him even though he couldn’t have been bothered for anything more; too depressed to be hung up on anything but getting through the day without doing something more fatally impulsive.

The girl had one condition, and it was a date. It seemed like a safe option. He could play the part without anything ever happening, and he’d get the job as long as he agreed, not get married. It would be, what, one afternoon of entertaining her, a kiss at most, and then, they’re done. It only made it better that soon she’d be on a flight to Europe with some friends for the summer. No risk involved, no messy aftermath.

Jax looks up from the journal, frowning. He hadn’t thought about any of this in a long time.

Is it even worth digging it all up from the grave?

Jax rises from his desk. What the hell is he doing? He drums his fingers on the table. There’s got to be a better way to distract himself than this. All it’s doing is worsening his already horrible mood–stewing in a past so distant he can’t remember what he looked like.

There’s a knock on the door. Jax groans.

“Not again,” he mumbles.

He swings open the door. Ragatha stands outside. Figures.

“Hey, Jax,” she starts awkwardly, sneaking glances into the state of his disheveled room. Jax closes the door a little more. “You haven’t been around much lately.”

“Do I need to be?”

“Um, no, but,” she hesitates, “You haven’t been acting like yourself. It’s concerning.”

“Well, if that’s all you wanted to talk about,” Jax moves to slink back inside his room.

“Hold on, wait!” she yells.

Jax pauses, resting his head on the doorframe in annoyance. “What?” he grumbles.

“When we were in the maze,” she begins, and Jax ignores the elevation of his heart rate, “When I first entered the scientist’s room, and you were strapped down, he- you-” she stumbles a bit, flustered with the subject she chose to bring up.

“What. About. It,” Jax grits out slowly. A destructive feeling was welling up inside of him.

“Jax, he– I mean, do you remember any of it?”

He deflates a little, “I think I do, yeah,” he admits, in the softest tone Ragatha thinks he’s ever used in the circus.

Ragatha reaches out a hand, but he shifts away from it. She retracts it just as quickly.

“I think you should talk to someone about it. It doesn’t have to be me, but this is serious.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“Jax,” she says his name in such a kind way it makes him want to disappear, “I don’t think you are.”

“Well, I am,” he spits out, and maybe too defensively, because Ragatha’s eyes widen for a second.

“Jax,” now she’s getting frustrated, too, though her voice remains level, “You don’t simply get over sexual assau–”

Jax slams the door in Ragatha’s face. His nerves feel like they’re on fire.

Why the hell is she making it her problem, anyway? He didn’t ask for her help. He doesn’t need it. He’s never needed anyone to get by. It infuriates him.

It infuriates him in such a way that he has to roughly wipe the pinpricks of tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

She’s still knocking at the door, he can hear the muffled repetition of his name.

God, he just needs to get his mind off of this. Anything.

Jax searches his desk maniacally, growling at the sight of his journal and throwing it across the room.

“Gotta have something,” he mutters desperately. Any kind of contraband from a past adventure. He wishes he had taken some of Ragatha’s stupid sauce when he had the chance. He wishes he had his bong for about the millionth time since he arrived at the circus.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is all so stupid.

He doesn’t owe anyone anything. He doesn’t have to be nice to them, he doesn’t have to entertain their sappy compassion. He doesn’t need their help, he’s never needed anyone. That’s how it’s always been and that’s how it will always be and that is how he likes it.

A bubble of laughter escapes him. So stupid. He shouldn’t even be upset right now.

Then, he finds something. An old blade. He vaguely remembers the adventure that organized their meeting.

Jax isn’t certain how much pain he’ll feel. Most physical injuries in the circus bring about a dull ache–nothing more, nothing less. It’ll have to do the trick.

He pulls up a pant leg of his overalls, slicing the blade across without thinking.

Jax revels in that pitiful, dull ache. He lets out a slow exhale, his mind finally beginning to clear. The tremor of his hands ease just a little.

Once more for good measure. Maybe twice.

No one’s knocking at the door. Good.

He flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze.

Until the next adventure, he supposes. Or the theme song, he adds bitterly. Whichever comes first.

…

The next adventure comes sooner than he anticipated, and at probably the worst location yet.

A farm. The countryside, his favorite place.

Jax doesn’t bother to pay attention when Caine illustrates their day. He’ll be told the necessary details as needed.

So, now, he’s sitting here on a stump, trying to ignore how dark his headspace has gotten.

Gangle already approached in an attempt to apologize again. Jax told her to can it and shoved her off–the breaking of her mask wasn’t purposeful, for once.

“Jax, did you want to take care of the monster?” Pomni suggests, a shotgun in her hand.

His eyebrow lifts, “Monster?”

“Didn’t you hear Caine?” she asks, but explains anyway, “We have to protect the farm from a chupacabra, or something like that. We’re supposed to take care of the animals, but one person will guard and deal with the wolf or… whatever it is.”

Jax recognizes what Pomni’s doing. She’s offering an olive branch: the opportunity to not partake in the activity and the excuse to shoot something. He appreciates it.

Shrugging, he takes the gun from her, resting it ontop of his shoulder. “Sounds good to me. Let me know when you start dying and I’ll kill it.” He stalks off towards a hill in the distance, shaded by a lone tree.

Stupid farm. He rolls a rock under his foot, sitting against the base of its trunk. Stupid, stupid farm.

It reminds him of home, and he frowns at the thought. He keeps thinking of everything but the present, lately.

There was more farmland than town, really, though his parents didn’t own one. Maybe they worked at one, or supplied a farm with something… he’s not sure, but it was a big farm town nonetheless.

He went on that date at her farm, he suddenly remembers. For some reason, the thought makes his skin crawl, his stomach churns.

The sun is setting. Jax supposes that means the chupacabra will be out soon, which means he gets to shoot something, which means he gets to be reclusive in his room. Good.

He tries to avoid the topic, but he still can’t help thinking about that date.

It was by the old cornmaze everyone goes through every Halloween, he remembers. It was late Spring, so the rows of corn weren’t mature yet. He’s not sure why she chose a farm for their date. Because it was secluded, he guesses.

Why would it matter if it was secluded?

Oh, right.

He sits up a little straighter.

They drank a lot, he knows. Or, at least, he did. She brought alcohol but she only had a drink. He brought a joint but she only smoked a few puffs. Jax never passed up the opportunity for over-indulgent intoxication back then. He loved being gone.

By 'date' she had meant hook-up, which wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, but Jax wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t sign up to prostitute himself for a job; he only agreed to go on a date. It was weird. He remembers thinking it was weird, and the girl was nice, but she was awfully discomforting, too, and he wasn’t about all of that.

She hadn’t cared though. Yeah, that’s right. And she hung that job over his head like food to a starved dog, and he really wanted to get out of that town. And then she wondered aloud what her mother would think (who would surely tell Jax’s mother) if she said their date was horrible. He was desperate. The experience shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. But it did.

He remembers her hands the most. They weren’t kind and they didn’t ask permission. Jax didn’t feel like a human that whole date. He doesn’t think he did for a long time after–if he ever did.

No, he was selfish all over again, because she had been so nice and she had waited for this, and he was seriously going to say no because he felt off? Like he was some pussy? Like what he wanted had ever mattered? How stupid.

It shouldn’t have bothered him so much. It’s not– …It doesn’t count as anything. Just bad sex. Something he wishes he could scrub from his mind in the same way he wishes he could scrub it from his body. He’s not sure why it even still bothers him now; why he can’t ever escape the feeling of phantom hands, of always being used, always out of control.

So, it was whatever because it had to be. He laid there and let her take what she wanted, because he needed that job, and he could finally live a new life if he left that town. He could leave it all behind: every shitty memory, every shitty person; himself.

The cruel irony being that leaving town would be the very thing to lead him to this torturous circus. He had asked for a new life, and the universe took it too far–just like everyone else did.

Jax was never safe, he should have known better. It was such a stupid thought to think he’d have any semblance of control in a place like this. It’s just like him to get cocky and caught by that deranged NPC and used all over again and punished with incessant ringing in his ears and hands on him and always needing to behave and smile and suck it up. Always hands on him. It’s exhausting.

Jax shudders, trying to keep his breath level. He doesn’t understand it. None of this ever bothered him before. He could shove it down just like everything else. So, why was he cracking? Why couldn’t he just move past this; why couldn’t the others treat him like normal?

A dark thought crosses Jax’s mind, but he shakes his head. Sure, he could blow his brains out here, but Caine would bring him back, and everyone would look at him like he’s pathetic all over again.

He buries his face in his hands, focusing on his breathing and scared to think of anything else–too distracted to notice Kinger’s approach.

“Jax,” he says softly. The rabbit jumps anyway.

He takes in Kinger with apprehensive acceptance, “What, you want me to look at a beetle, or something?”

Kinger shakes his head, sitting next to him. Jax finally takes in the stars scattered across the sky. He hadn’t noticed how realistic it was. Like, there’s the Big Dipper. He can see it.

Jax wonders how Caine does it. It’s all just code to him, isn’t it? He can’t actually know what it’s like to look at the milky way, to feel so absolutely trapped. To know everything that could ever matter rests here and there is nothing out there, even if that's where he desperately wants to be; even if he craves any kind of escape.

Maybe Caine does wonder such about being human, but Jax really doesn't care to humanize the thing. Caine probably doesn’t understand light pollution. He’s never experienced it–he’s programmed to know, not to understand.

They’re in the countryside, though, so it doesn’t matter.

“Things have been tough for you lately,” Kinger states.

Jax eyes the older man wearily. He’s so tired.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I know a thing or two about what happens when we avoid facing what’s eating away at us,” he says solemnly, his eyes looking not quite at the farm nor at Jax, but another place–another time–with a different person.

Queenie. Jax frowns.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he responds quietly.

“Jax, I helped you out of that maze. I know enough to understand you still need support. I meant what I said then: we all deserve support.”

The idea of support never felt right to Jax. Kinger keeps talking.

“The good thing about confiding in me is that,” he admits, “I won’t be there, you know, to remember. I can help you now, and you don’t have to worry about me treating you any differently.”

“Everyone’s worried about you,” Kinger sighs, “But they know you don’t respond well to… well, help. I promise you though, you can talk to me. Get it off of your chest, at least.”

Jax turns the idea over in his head. He really doesn’t want to talk, and he’s so tired, but Kinger raises a good point–maybe he would feel a little lighter.

It would be nice if, here of all places, someone could give him something rather than take.

“Alright,” Jax breathes out slowly.

Then, he starts talking.