Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Eight!” Talon’s voice boomed as he burst into Eight’s storage room. The door slammed against the wall, reverberating through the grand room. “Eight! We need to cook!”

EightSidedSquare yelped, nearly dropping the pickaxe in his hand. Instinctively, he grabbed a nearby shield, holding it up like a knight bracing for battle. “What is wrong with you, Talon?” he barked, peeking over the shield. “I thought you were Winsweep coming to steal my hard-earned diamonds!”

Talon didn’t slow down. His sharp eyes scanned the room—an impressive cathedral of order and efficiency. Stacks on stacks of every block, item, and tool imaginable were sorted neatly into labeled chests and barrels, all cycling through the elaborate web of hoppers and redstone. Items clinked softly as they funneled into their assigned slots through an automatic storage system that Eight had spent weeks perfecting.

But Talon wasn’t here to admire craftsmanship. He rushed past Eight, ignoring the sputtering protests behind him. His target: the chests where the Endust was stored. Without hesitation, he threw them open, rifling through neatly organized compartments and piling shimmering blocks and powders into his inventory and his backpack.

“Hey!” Eight grabbed Talon by the shoulders and shook him. “Get ahold of yourself, man! What’s gotten into you?”

Talon spun to face him, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made Eight falter. “Help me get this Endust back home,” Talon demanded, his words coming fast and urgent. “I’ve found a way to perfect it!”

Eight hesitated, his gaze flicking between Talon and the now-raided cabinet. Something wasn’t right, and Talon could see it. His friend wasn’t moving to help. Instead, Eight’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as though he was trying to find the right words.

“What is it?” Talon asked, his voice softening. “What’s wrong?”

Eight sighed and set the shield aside. He looked at Talon, his face a mixture of concern and reluctant patience. “The party... The event, was a month ago, Talon,” he said quietly. “I know how much time you spent on Endust. It was impressive, but—”

“But that doesn’t mean we should give up on it!” Talon interrupted, his voice rising. He turned back to the cabinets, opening them one by one to make sure he hadn’t missed a single block or particle of dust. The shelves were bare now.

Time to go.

Talon closed his backpack with a sharp snap and turned back to Eight. “Come with me,” he said, his voice resolute. “I need someone’s help. I need your help.”

“Sit down, Talon,” Eight said, his eyes scanning him with a concerned frown. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Talon hesitated, his mind racing with urgency, but his stomach growled, cutting through his thoughts like a sharp blade. He glanced at his hunger bar—three and a half left. Soon, he wouldn’t even be able to sprint. Reluctantly, he let Eight guide him to a worn leather couch.

Eight dropped the bags of Endust onto the table and disappeared into another room. Moments later, he returned with a few loaves of bread.

“Sorry, it’s all I’ve got. Blake raided my stash again,” Eight muttered, handing them over.

Talon chuckled faintly and tore into the bread. It was dry, but it might as well have been a feast. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Days? Weeks? He couldn’t even remember the last time he left home—his mind had been consumed by the failure of Endust.

“Endust could have been beautiful,” Talon murmured between bites, his voice tinged with wistfulness. “There could’ve been peace. No more fighting, no more loss... Just peace.”

Eight sat down beside him, folding his arms. “It could have been,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t. You’re still clinging to it, Talon.”

"If those creatures hadn't appeared, we could have been at peace," Talon rambled on. "Those beasts are what caused all of this. everything was going just fine until they appeared and started wrecking everything. Killing Sillvia, and Diansu. . . Even though I don't exactly like him right now. I just feel like everything is going wrong and I am trying to fix it and-and-and-"

“Hey.” Eight shook him gently. “You’re spiraling. Stay with me, man.”

“I am not spiraling—”

“Talon, listen.” Eight’s tone was sharper now, cutting through the fog of Talon’s thoughts. “Endust was a failure. I know how much it meant to you—how much it meant to both of us—but it’s over. You’ve got to let it go.”

Talon hesitated, his eyes narrowed and his face was burning like the sun. His veins throbbing with anger and his mouth went dry as Talon's heart raced a million miles a second, he wanted to scream at Eight, tell him how wrong he was. "Let go? Let go!" Talon snarled through gritted teeth. "Endust is my creation, and I will do what I need to make it what it deserves to be. And I will not let you, not anyone get in my way."

Eight rose abruptly, towering over him. His eyes, normally calm, bore into Talon with an intensity that made him flinch.

“Who are you?” Eight asked quietly.

The question struck like a hammer. Talon blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? I’m Talon.”

"No, you are not," Eight responded.

"Yes I am."

"No."

"Yes!"

"NO!" Eight yelled. "I've never seen you act like this before, NEVER!"

Talon blinked. He didn't know what to say. Eight always acted with composure and was usually calm. He didn't understand. Eight was his friend. Couldn't Eight understand what he was trying to do would benefit everyone? Talon didn't know what to say, he just stood there, dumbfounded. Waiting for the right words to enter his brain.

"Eight, you know me better than anyone," Talon started, but was quickly cut off. 

"Exactly, you said it yourself. Then I can tell when you are not in the right mind." He sat back down and gently crept closer to Talon grabbing his arm and feeling his pulse. Talon's heart beat sped up, he felt nervous and his legs shook slightly, bouncing up and down on the hardwood floor.

"You're eyes are red," Eight said after what seemed like an eternity. "Bloodshot even. How much Endust are you taking?"

Talon looked away, his eyes welling up with tears. Eight snapped his fingers, putting pressure on his wrist until Talon focused his gaze back on him. "How much?"

"I don't feel. . . myself anymore," His voice quivered and streaks of tears dripped down his dirty face, creating clean lines of skin. He knew Eight couldn't see his tears because of his mask, which he was grateful for. But Eight had an eye for noticing the smallest details, so surely he knew.

"Do you need anything from me?" Eight asked, letting go of Talon's arm.

His voice shook as he quietly mumbuled why he came here in the first place.

"Eight, we need to cook," He pulled off his mask and gave Eight a small, pathetic smile. It would have been a surprise if Eight noticed it at all.

He sighed; picking up the bag of Endust. 

"What are you doing?" Talon asked, standing up, ready to take the bag away.

"You wanted help," Eight said. "While I don't approve, It's not like I can stop you. Besides, I want to keep an eye on you."

Talon pulled his mask on, excited to finally get the help.

He skipped out the door behind Eight and down the walkway towards Spawn. The path to Spawn was eerily quiet. Talon walked slightly behind Eight, the bag of Endust bouncing lightly against his thigh. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—Eight never was much of a talker—but Talon’s thoughts buzzed, chaotic and restless.

The chorus plants loomed ahead, their bulbous fruits casting strange shadows on the ground. A figure crouched near one of the stalks, picking at a patch of wildflowers. Talon slowed his pace, narrowing his eyes.

“Moriya?” Eight called, raising a hand in greeting.

The flower-picker looked up, his face breaking into a bright smile. “Eight! Talon! Fancy running into you two out here.”

“We're just on an errand,” Eight replied. “What about you?”

“Collecting flowers,” Moriya said cheerfully, holding up a handful of blossoms. “I’m thinking of decorating Gitaly with these—give it a little life, you know?”

As Eight and Moriya chatted, Talon drifted toward the chorus plants. The strange, otherworldly glow tugged at his attention, like a whisper just out of earshot. He reached out, his fingers brushing against one of the stalks. With a swift punch, the plant broke apart, the chorus fruit falling into his hand.

“Perfect,” Talon murmured under his breath.

“TALON!” Eight’s sharp voice jolted him. He turned quickly, nearly dropping the fruit.

“What?” he asked innocently, slipping the fruit out of Eight's glare

“You disappeared!” Eight said, exasperation clear in his tone.

“I was just—uh—getting this for Moriya.” Talon scrambled to pick a small yellow flower and thrust it into Moriya’s hands. “Here. For you.”

Moriya’s eyes lit up as he accepted the flower. “Oh, wow! Thanks, Talon!” He pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Y-you’re welcome,” Talon choked, his ribs protesting under the pressure.

“Oops! Sorry.” Moriya let go, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “I get a little carried away sometimes.”

Talon forced a smile, his gaze flickering briefly toward Eight, who was watching him closely.

“Where are you two headed, anyway?” Moriya asked.

“Just helping Talon with a... project,” Eight replied carefully.

“Ooh, can I come?” Moriya asked, his grin widening.

Talon hesitated, his mind warring with itself. On one hand, Moriya was an unpredictable variable. On the other...

“OF COURSE YOU CAN JOIN US!” he blurted, startling even himself. Clearing his throat, he added more calmly, “I mean, yeah, sure. You can join.”

Eight gave him a look but said nothing.

You are getting distracted. You shouldn't have let him join

The voice slithered through his mind like a shadow, and Talon’s steps faltered for just a moment.

Can't have any witnesses, right?

“Hmm?” Moriya tilted his head. “Did you say something, Talon?”

“Oh, uh—just talking to the voices in my head,” Talon joked, forcing a laugh.

“You’re crazy,” Eight said with a small smirk, bumping his shoulder. “But that’s why I like you.”

Talon’s laughter died in his throat. His mask hid his grimace, but Eight’s words lingered.

Crazy. Maybe he was.

Chapter Text

2 weeks later. . . . . .

Talon strolled through Eight's base, a faint smile curling his lips. His shoes tapped softly against the polished stone floor as he rummaged through drawers and barrels. With each opened container, he pocketed food and supplies, the faint sound of items clinking into his bag echoing in the empty room.

An iron axe, dull with disuse, caught his eye. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands before blowing the layer of dust off its head. "You’ve been forgotten," he murmured, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Let’s put you to work."

He walked into the open space near a glass window. The faint light streaming through highlighted the cracks in his mask and the storm brewing in his hazy thoughts. Without a second thought, Talon reeled back and hurled the axe with all his strength.

CRASH!

The window shattered spectacularly, shards scattering in all directions. Cracks spiderwebbed across the few stubborn pieces that clung to the frame.

Talon stood there, laughing—a sharp, unhinged sound that echoed through the lifeless halls. He leaned against a wooden pillar, catching his breath as the laughter subsided while his gaze drifted to the barrels along the wall. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

Over the past weeks, he’d been meticulously repairing and expanding the storage system at his second Stronghold. Much of Eight’s carefully curated supplies had already made their way there, but there was still more to take.

“Almost done,” Talon muttered to himself, his voice hollow.

He picked up another axe and swung it lazily at one of the wooden pillars, leaving deep gouges in its surface. Scrapes marred the floor, and splinters scattered as he swung again. Tossing the axe upward, he stepped back, expecting it to fall—but it didn’t.

Talon frowned and tilted his head, squinting at the ceiling where the axe had lodged itself. “Huh,” he muttered. After a moment, he shrugged and turned toward the door, his mind already elsewhere.

As he rounded the corner, he collided hard with another figure. The impact knocked Talon backward, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

“Get off me,” he snapped, shoving the other person aside as he rolled to his feet.

"Nice to see you too, Talon," a dry voice responded.

Talon froze, his hand instinctively going to his bag. Winsweep sat a few feet away, his mask cracked and chipped, black sludge staining the right side of his mask and parts of his shoulder neck. The carved out holes of the mask glaring at Talon.

"You look nice," Talon said, forcing a smirk to hide his unease.

Winsweep rolled his eyes and stood, brushing himself off. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on the broken window and the wreckage of Eight's once-pristine base.

“You’ve made quite the mess here,” Winsweep said, his tone as sharp as a blade. He turned back to Talon, arms crossed. “What exactly are you doing?”

Talon hesitated for only a second, but it was enough for Winsweep to notice. “Gathering supplies for Eight,” he said quickly, too quickly.

Winsweep’s eyes narrowed. “Late for something, are we?”

Talon’s mouth opened, then closed. His thoughts raced, trying to piece together a convincing story.

You’re gathering supplies for Eight’s return. Say it. Stick to it.

"I’m gathering supplies for Eight’s return," Talon finally blurted, forcing a grin. He gestured vaguely to the scattered barrels and open drawers. "I didn’t know where he keeps everything, so I, uh, had to dig around. Bit of a scavenger hunt, really."

Winsweep tilted his head, the soft green glow of his damaged mask flickering ominously. "Serves him right. He never really labels anything, I suppose," he said slowly. "But… what return? Eight never mentioned leaving."

Moriya is trying to break free.

Talon’s stomach churned, but he forced a shrug, sidestepping toward the door. "Well, he did. Quick trip, nothing major. Anyway, I should really get going."

He turned and made a break for it, his shoes pounding against the wooden flooring as he bolted for the exit. The bag on his back jostled with every step, the sound of stolen supplies threatening to betray him.

But Winsweep was faster. In an instant, he caught up and seized the handle of Talon’s bag, jerking him to a halt.

"Not so fast," Winsweep said, his voice calm but laced with suspicion.

Talon froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight, to do anything—but his body refused to move. If Winsweep discovered the truth, it was over. He could be faced with exile, or worse, death.

"Hey." Winsweep clapped his hands sharply in front of Talon’s face, snapping him back to reality. "Still with me?"

Talon blinked, refocusing his gaze. Winsweep’s own mask seemed to bore through Talon's mask, searching for answers.

"What’s the hurry?" Winsweep asked, his tone measured but firm. "When does Eight return?"

"I-I-I…" Talon stammered, his voice breaking as sweat pooled beneath his mask. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, and he felt the weight of Winsweep’s scrutiny bearing down on him like a crushing tide.

Winsweep stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Look, I can tell you’re nervous," he said, his tone softening, though his posture remained tense. "Why don’t you come with me? We can talk this through."

"I’m fine," Talon mumbled, taking a half-step back.

"Sure you are," Winsweep replied dryly. "I was actually on my way to Oceana. Diansu wanted to discuss his… project. You’re welcome to join me."

Talon hesitated, unsure how to respond. "What kind of project?" he asked cautiously, seizing the opportunity to shift the focus.

Winsweep reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled note, holding it up for Talon to see. "Something about a weapon. A new tool of some kind. Diansu’s been vague, as usual."

Talon’s eyes darted to the note, then back to Winsweep. His mind raced again, weighing his options. The mention of a weapon sent a jolt of fear through him—he couldn’t afford to get tangled in another web of complications. But Winsweep wasn’t going to let him go without an explanation. Talon took a deep breath and read the note.

Blake Winsweep,

Come to Oceana immediately. I have created something important.

Do not tell a soul.

-Diansu Vulkarch

Winsweep snatched the note back from Talon’s hand with a sharp motion, his patience visibly wearing thin. Without a word, he tore the note into shreds, each piece fluttering to the ground like dying embers. A gust of wind swept them away, scattering the evidence into the distance.

"There," Winsweep muttered, brushing his hands together. "Now no one will know. Happy?"

Talon smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Very," he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. The bag’s weight pulled against his back, packed with weapons, food, and various supplies he’d pilfered. "You’ve invited me along, so no backing out now."

Winsweep sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as if the mere thought of Talon’s company exhausted him. "Alright," he said, voice tinged with resignation. "But don’t make me regret it." He turned and began descending the stone steps, his footsteps deliberate and measured.

Talon followed close behind, the corners of his lips curling upward in a subtle grin.

This will be fun

I’m excited to see where this goes.

So am I.

His heart skipped a beat, his grip on the bag tightening instinctively.

"What was that?" Winsweep’s voice broke the silence, sharp and curious as he glanced back over his shoulder.

Talon blinked, snapping himself out of the moment. "What was what?"

"You said something," Winsweep pressed, his glowing mask flickering as his gaze narrowed.

Talon shook his head quickly, brushing off the question with a casual wave of his hand. "I didn’t say anything. Must’ve been the wind."

Winsweep stared at him for a moment longer, then grunted in irritation and resumed walking, with Talon close at his heels

The railway cart hummed as Talon and Winsweep approached Oceana. Talon leaned against the cart’s edge, watching the scenery blur past. Talon had only been once, maybe twice. Usually just to trade with Diansu or Will or something like that. But today felt different. The air felt heavy and the area around Oceana seemed deserted. Not just that there were no players, but there seemed to be nothing alive in the area. Talon stepped out of the cart and fell in line behind Winsweep. The usual sound of birds singing and cattle munching on grass was replaced with silence. They walked through the main square, checking the buildings for Diansu or even Will.

Diansu might be getting suspicious of Will's absence.

No one's gonna know.

"Diansu!" Winsweep called, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. It echoed off the stone walls, ricocheting into the void. "DIANSU!"

For a moment, there was no reply. Then, faintly, a voice called back. "Blake!"

Winsweep’s head snapped toward the sound, and Talon’s heart leapt in his chest. That voice—Diansu’s voice—was coming from one of the buildings. Without hesitation, Talon darted toward it, Winsweep close on his heels.

The moment they crossed the threshold, chaos erupted.

A rain of sparks cascaded from the ceiling as the lights above them shattered one by one, sending glass and smoke into the air. The crackling drone of electricity filled the room, and Talon squinted against the blinding flashes of light. Elysium rods directed arcs of electricity through coiled pipes into a hulking contraption at the center of the room. Diansu was standing next to it, cald in gleaming Elysium armor and some sort of welder's mask. He adjusted dials and carefully placed shimmering amethyst crystals into a small hatch at the top of the machine.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Winsweep bellowed, his voice cutting through the cacophony.

A bolt of electricity suddenly arced across the room, striking Diansu’s armor and bouncing into a nearby lamp, shattering it into a shower of sparks.

Diansu placed one more piece of the crystal into the cannon and stepped over to Talon. "Cover your ears, let's see if this works!" His voice filled with manic excitement as Talon dropped to a crouch, covering his ears as Diansu grabbed a lever beneath a sign that read: Power Required: 120 MW. With a dramatic flourish, Diansu yanked the lever downward.

For a moment, everything went dark. The air crackled with raw energy as electricity sparked violently from the machine. The tension in the room was almost visible, like the moment before a storm unleashes its fury.

Then, silence.

The lights flickered back on, the undamaged ones casting a faint glow over the room. The machine hissed softly as it powered down, its metallic frame steaming in the aftermath.

"It worked!" Diansu ripped off the mask and sent it clattering to the floor before examining the cannon.

"Diansu," Winsweep huffed. "What have you created?"

Diansu turned to face him, a grin spreading across his face. "Excellent question, Blake. What you’re looking at is the second most powerful invention I’ve ever created." He gestured proudly toward the machine, his voice brimming with pride.

"I present to you... the Elysium-Amethyst Railgun."

Talon gawked at the creation, his mind was racing of all the possibilities he could use it for. But the main thing was defense. If he could convince Diansu to let him use it against RAT, when it was really for his own safety. . .

Hush now. We don't even know what kind of power it brings. Besides, I'm more focused on his most powerful invention.

Talon blinked, pulling himself back to the present. "Wait—you said second most powerful?" he blurted.

"Why yes, dear Talon," Diansu replied, his tone light but tinged with a touch of pride.

Winsweep crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "Alright, Diansu. What’s the most powerful?"

Diansu let out a long sigh, as if the answer weighed heavily on him. He moved toward a glass case at the back of the room, gesturing for them to follow. Inside the case sat a small, unassuming blue compass with a pristine white needle. It looked so harmless to Talon, but usually the most harmless of things and creatures were the deadliest. 

Moriya was a good example of that.

No shit.

"Watch your language, Talon," Diansu said sharply, placing a black cloth over the box and slid it under a nearby desk, out of view. "As I was saying. It is not so much a weapon as a tool. Once I finish the Invictus armor, we can use it."

"What exactly does it do," Winsweep sighed. "You're being vague, and you do that a lot by the way."

Diansu turned to the door, his gaze drifting to the ocean beyond. The waves rolled gently onto the shore, the rhythmic sound filling the tense silence in the room.

"What it does is not important," Diansu said softly, his back still to them. "At least, not yet. It isn’t finished. But for now, there’s something else I want to discuss."

Talon stiffened slightly, his posture more alert. "Oh? And what kind of ‘discussion’ is this?"

Diansu turned back to face them, his giddy expression quickly replaced with a more serious tone. "The kind that has to do with missing people."

Chapter Text

"Missing people?" Winsweep’s voice broke the uneasy silence, his tone laced with confusion. "How would you know?"

Diansu’s gaze remained fixed on Talon. "Will has not returned in several days. It is not my job to watch out for him, like a father who just lost their child in a Walmart super-store. No, but I do worry something has happened to him."

“What proof do you have?” Talon asked, stepping up beside Diansu, his voice steady despite the rising dread in his chest. Winsweep circled in front, his movements deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.

“Maybe Will’s just taking a break from the evil dictator role,” Talon added, forcing a weak smile.

Diansu narrowed his eyes at Talon. "First, I am the evil dictator. Second, Will would not leave my side unless instructed to. Third, he's not the only one missing."

He may be on to us, I recommend taking something of value before we make our escape.

"Who else is missing, then, Diansu?" Winsweep pressed, his fists clenching tightly, the fabric of his gloves tearing slightly under the strain.

"Will, Eight, Noxintrus, just to name a few," Diansu said, ticking off the names on his fingers. Winsweep’s jaw tightened at the mention of Noxintrus, his fury barely contained.

"How was Nox captured? Did you see a fight? How do you know all this? Tell me everything!" Winsweep snapped, propelling Diansu with question after question, leaving Talon stunned at Diansu's pure knowledge of what's been happening around the server.

"I just know who has been captured, I've heard voices and whispers," Diansu explained.

"Come on, Diansu," Winsweep sighed "You must know more! What happened to Nox and Will? What about Eight? Are you sure they are the only-"

Winsweep suddenly stopped, Diansu took a step closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Blake? What is it?" 

Winsweep froze mid-sentence. His head turned slowly, his mask’s black-painted eye sockets locking onto Talon with an intensity that made Talon’s blood run cold. The weight of that gaze pressed down on him, suffocating every thought.

"Talon," Winsweep muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “You said Eight would be back soon. From some sort of ‘trip.’ Where exactly did you say he was?”

“Eight never told me,” Talon replied quickly. “He left three days ago and—”

"Not possible," Diansu interrupted. "From my observations, Eight has been gone for at least ten days. I see him every other day traveling the rail lines. For what purpose? I don’t know. But I have not seen him in the last few."

"Maybe's he doesn't need to get more supplies from RAT?" Talon suggested.

Winsweep’s head tilted slightly. "I thought he was neutral?"

The sun is setting, Talon. Take something and run. I’ll handle the rest.

Talon glanced at the horizon. The ocean reflected the dying light of day, casting a golden glow on the coppery rooftops of Oceana. Night was falling, and with it came danger. But more importantly, the new batch of Endust would be ready soon.

I need to get home

"No one's going anywhere," Diansu stated. "Besides, you just proved a point, Talon."

"And that is?" Talon asked, not feeling in the mood for anymore conversations.

"You kidnapped Will. And Noxintrus. And EightSidedSquare."

"That cannot be possible," Winsweep said. "Nox is a much better fighter than this idiot."

Diansu stepped forward and, in one swift motion, ripped Talon’s mask from his face, snapping the strap. Talon instinctively shielded his face, but Diansu’s robotic grip was unyielding and pinned Talon against the wall with ease. 

"What have you done to yourself?" Diansu demanded. "Blake, get me a lantern! Now!"

Winsweep hesitated but handed Diansu the lantern. Diansu held it up to Talon’s face, the harsh light revealing sunken features and eyes that glowed faintly with an unnatural hue. Talon hissed and snarled, shutting his eyes from the world.

"Open your eyes, Talon," Diansu demanded. "OPEN YOUR EYES DAMMIT!"

Talon opened his eyes enough for Winsweep and Diansu to let out a horrified gasp.

“Your eyes,” Winsweep whispered, horrified.

"How much Endust have you been taking?" Diansu asked.

"None-"

"Don't you even think about lying to me," Diansu growled, leaning in close and whispering in Talon's ear. "That day has been ingrained into my hard drive, those beasts you let loose on your friends, not even I had the ideas to create such monstrous nightmares."

"It was an accident, they weren't even supposed to exist!" Talon kicked at Diansu, breaking free for a moment before Diansu retaliated, his metallic hand tightening around Talon’s neck. He gasped, his vision swimming as the grip around his throat cut off his air.

Talon gasped in fright, feeling dizzy and lightheaded as the cold, metallic hand slowly closed his windpipe, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"What have you done with them?" Winsweep asked.

Talon blinked and lowered his head in a dazed expression, hoping to fool them into letting him go.

"Let go of him, you are going to kill him before we get anything from him," Winsweep said. Reluctantly, Diansu loosened his grip on Talon's neck.

Kick him in the stomach, there's Elysium sitting out on his workbench, then run to the ocean. I'll do the rest.

Talon raised his head and put a hand on Diansu to steady himself.

"Forgive me, Diansu," Talon coughed, pushing Diansu back and swinging a kick at his side. His foot connected with a loud thunk! Diansu stumbled back into Winsweep as Talon grabbed the few pieces of Elysium on the workbench and sprinted off towards the ocean, stopping to grab his mask off the concrete. He huffed and stumbled before he could get his footing on the muddy grass. Talon looked behind him to see Winsweep close, but Diansu had already run back into the workshop and was moving the barrel of the railgun in his direction.

"Ah fuck," He said aloud.

Duck on my count.

Alright, alright. . .

5. . .

Talon zipped behind a tree and pulled a branch back. Right as Winsweep came around the corner, holding an amarite sword, Talon let go, smacking the branch into his mask.

4. . .

Winsweep stumbled back but managed to stay up right, he swung his sword at Talon, slicing him across the ribcage.

3. . .

"FUCK!" Talon cried, lowering to his knees. He glanced over at the ocean. He was at the edge of the tree line, just across the beach was the water. Night had fallen and an owl hooted somewhere nearby. Talon gasped and kicked at Winsweep's shins and attempted the crawl across the beach.

2. . .

"You think you are slick, Talon," Winsweep coughed. "If you thought you could escape, you were severely mistaken. Now, where is Nox?"

1. . .

"I hate to lie to my friends," Talon said, looking through the trees. He could see the lights of Oceana had turned off and a faint hum could be heard.

"Then, tell me the truth!" Winsweep stabbed his sword through Talon's leg, making him wither in pain. He arched his back and threw up in the sand. "WHERE IS NOX?!"

"I hate to lie to my friends," Talon repeated, standing up despite the pain. "But you are an exception."

NOW! DUCK TALON!

Talon grabbed Winsweep's vest and pulled him onto the sand. 

Time seemed to freeze.

Electricity surged through the ground and into the ocean, created the smell of burned meat.

The thunderous clap emitted around him, shattering Talon's eardrums as something shot by above him.

"Winsweep, are you okay?" Talon asked, despite not being able to hear. He looked over to see Blake next to him, unconscious but breathing. 

Looks like we made it out with two things today.

Talon heaved him onto his shoulder, adrenaline drowning out the pain. He grabbed the fallen sword and activated something that looked like a smoke bomb, the thick cloud cloaking their escape as he stumbled toward the water.

The sand gave way beneath his feet, and the darkness swallowed them whole.

⌁ ⟡ ⌁

Diansu emerged onto the beach, his eyes scanning the horizon. The faint trail of blood leading to the waves told him everything he needed to know.

He adjusted his red silk tie, his mechanical fingers twitching. “He thinks he’s escaped.” His voice was calm, cold. “But he hasn’t. Not yet.”

Chapter Text

Talon hit the ground hard, his knees buckling as the weight of Winsweep’s limp body pinned him down. He groaned, rolling the body off with a grunt, and lay there for a moment, catching his breath. His eyes darted around the dimly lit room, taking in his surroundings.

Moss-covered cobblestone walls stretched upward to meet a dark oak ceiling, reinforced with thick wooden beams. Soul lanterns swung gently from chains, casting an otherworldly blue glow that danced eerily across the damp stone. The faint smell of decay and damp earth hung in the air.

Then Talon started giggling, his laughter spilling out uncontrollably. The absurdity of it all—the smoke bomb had worked. It actually worked. He was exactly where he needed to be.

"Who's there?" a voice called out.

Talon lifted his head towards the source. There, behind rusty iron bars, Moriya sat huddled against the back wall of his cell. His arms hung limply through the gaps in the bars, his face pale and streaked with grime. Talon’s smirk returned as his eyes flicked to the other cells. Next to Moriya's cell, was Will, who Talon couldn't see, and next to his, was Eight.

Talon shifted his gaze to the right wall—three empty cells and two occupied ones.

Noxintrus was in one, his hands bound and his expression unreadable, as usual. In the final cell, Amy lay crumpled on the floor, deathly still.

Talon stared at Amy for a moment longer than he intended, his smirk faltering briefly before he shook his head and turned his focus back to Moriya. Rolling onto his stomach, he used his arms to push himself upright, then casually kicked Winsweep’s body out of the way. His shoes echoed loudly as he approached Moriya’s cell, the sound amplifying the growing tension in the room.

Moriya’s wide, fearful eyes met Talon’s as he crawled away, pressing his back flat against the damp stone wall.

"Please don’t hurt me," Moriya stammered, his voice trembling.

Talon stopped just outside the bars, peering into the cramped, grimy cell. The only furnishings were a sagging cot in the corner and a dented tray littered with crumbs of stale bread. He could feel the weight of the other prisoners’ gazes, their silent curiosity piercing through the heavy air.

Slowly, Talon reached into his pocket, pulling out a keyring. The sound of jingling metal sent a ripple of unease through the room. He selected the key he needed and slid it into the lock. The click of the mechanism echoed, loud and final.

Moriya flinched as the door creaked open, his whole body trembling.

"P-Please, Talon," Moriya stuttered, his voice cracking. "D-D-Don’t hurt me."

Talon stepped over and patted Moriya on the head, like trying to comfort a dog scared by a raging storm.

"Shh. I'm not going to do anything to you," Talon whispered, studying the space. "Did you do anything while I was away?"

"No sir," Moriya said. "Nothing at all."

Lies. . .

"Are you sure?" Talon muttered, kneeling down to be at Moriya's level, but still just a bit taller to show his superiority. "You can tell me."

"No sir," Moriya repeated.

He speaks lies, under the bed.

Talon let out a soft sigh, standing to his full height. "Very well," he said, turning on his heel and strolling back to Winsweep's body. From the bag of supplies, he retrieved a heavy iron ax, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim blue light. He walked back to Moriya’s cell, gripping the ax in one hand. The weight of it seemed to radiate a silent threat, an unspoken promise. Talon stopped just outside the cell, gripping the weapon at his sides.

"One last chance," Talon grumbled.

Moriya looked at the ax, his eyes growing wide and his hand shaking. Streaks of tears began to flow down his face as Moriya tried to speak.

"I-I alr-already. . . I already told y-you." Moriya cried.

Talon stepped next to the bed, kicking the tray under it. 

Clank!

The sound ricocheted through the stone chamber.

"Wrong answer…" Talon said softly, his voice dripping with finality.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the edge of the bed and flipped it against the wall. The dull thud of wood against stone was soon drowned out by the silence that followed.

There it was. The tunnel.

The hole beneath the bed gaped like a dark wound in the earth, barely illuminated by the faint blue glow of the soul lanterns. Talon crouched beside it, peering into its depths.

7 feet deep maybe?

Looks about.

"It's ten feet," Moriya sniffled.

Talon paused, turning his head slightly toward the man. For a moment, there was silence. Then, Talon’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, hidden beneath his mask.

"Bold of you," he said, almost impressed, but with one sharp motion, Talon put the ax through Moriya's shoulder.

Moriya's screams echoed through the chamber as Talon yanked the ax free from his shoulder, blood splattering the mossy cobblestone like crimson rain. The blade gleamed wetly in the eerie blue light as Talon raised it again, his movements detached from reality. Moriya thrashed weakly, his eyes wide with terror, but his strength was failing.

Talon ignored the desperate, pleading look on Moriya's face as he swung the ax once more. The blade met flesh with a sickening crunch, and Moriya's scream turned into a raw, gurgling cry.

"Talon stop!" Noxintrus' voice shouted from one of the cells.

The sound startled Talon, breaking his focus for a fraction of a second. His head turned slightly, just enough to catch Nox gripping the iron bars of his cell, shaking them furiously.

But that moment of distraction was his mistake. The ax came down one final time, with more force than intended, and the room fell silent.

Moriya’s body went still. His cries ceased. The only sound was the faint drip of blood pooling on the stone floor. Talon stumbled back, his chest heaving as he stared at what he had done.

"You killed him!" Noxintrus shouted, his voice raw with rage and grief. The iron bars rattled violently under his grip, threatening to rip free from the stone. "You KILLED him!"

Talon glanced back and felt his lunch in his throat. The blade of the ax not only cut through Moriya's arm entirely, but it was stuck through his head, nearly slicing right through it. The bits of his skull and flesh exposed.

"You killed him just like you've killed Amy!" Nox screamed. "YOU ARE A MONSTER!"

"I am a monster, Noxintrus," Talon gasped, his heart beating so fast he could hardly feel it He felt dizzy, his mind wasn't his own. "There's no denying it."

You've been off the Endust far too long, Talon. You need to take more.

I'm fine. I don't need it

Talon, please.

Didn't know you had the ability to say that.

What? 'Please'?

Is Moriya dead?

Not yet, his soul is still trapped. I can take him. But you get more Endust. Now.

Fine.

Talon reached for the ax and pulled it from Moriya's skull before leaving the cell. He left the door open so he could take Moriya's body to be repaired.

"Talon?" Eight's weak voice mumbled from the cell over. Talon stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Yes, Eight?"

Talon didn't hear an answer, only the slight sounds of him moving across stone. 

A strange sound then pierced his ears, a slimy and wet sort of sound, it grumbled and slithered throughout the room. Soon a squelching sound followed before it roughly dragged something back across the stone floor and into another part of the base. Talon looked back towards Moriya's cell once the sound was gone, seeing the cell wide open and Moriya gone.

"What was that," Eight gasped, peeking his head through the bars again.

"My creations," Talon coughed. "Look up."

Talon didn't need to see Eight's face when he gagged in disgust. He knew what was up there, where it came from, and Talon knew all too well it was very much alive.

"And for your comments a moment ago, Noxintrus," Talon stated, grinning fiercely. "You will be taken for testing in my new batch of Endust."

"You meant 'for' right?" Nox stuttered. "Not 'in'?"

"You know well what I mean," Talon stalked to the iron door of the prison, slamming it so hard behind him, the lights illuminating his base shook and the metallic sound echoed through the halls.

Talon stumbled forward, getting dizzy and light-headed. He needed to get to the dining hall for more Endust. 

As Talon made his way through the dimly lit halls towards the dining room, his boots squelched softly against the black, tar-like substance coating the floor. What looked like roots extended across the surfaces—walls, ceiling, even creeping around door frames. But these weren't roots; they were tentacles. Pulsating, sinewy appendages with iridescent spots of blue, purple, and green that shimmered faintly in the low light.

These tentacles were alive. They moved with an eerie, deliberate grace, snaking over the stone, coiling around fixtures, and spreading their presence further with every passing moment.

Talon’s eyes followed one such tentacle as it slithered across the floor towards him. It paused at his feet, writhing slightly as if testing his reaction. He tilted his head, a smirk forming under his mask.

"And what do you want, little fella?" Talon chuckled, watching as the tentacle twisted upward, curling along the wall beside him. It moved with purpose, yet somehow felt aimless, like it was both searching for something and claiming territory at the same time.

His gaze drifted to the other appendages, some stretching into distant rooms, others merging into clusters of pulsating masses. "Hundreds of thousands" wasn’t an exaggeration in his mind—these things were everywhere now. The creations of Endust. For his creation.

There is not 'hundreds of thousands' of them, Talon.

Yes but the longer you are taking Endust, the more you create. 

Yes, that is true. And if you could get me more Endust while your at it. . .

So needy.

YOU TRY BEING TRAPPED IN THIS ETERNAL STRAITJACKET OF TAR AND ENDUST!

Jeez, calm down. I'll get you some.

Talon hadn't noticed it, but at some point while he was thinking, he'd begun walking once more and was already down the stairs at the hallway. He pushed away what he was thinking and pushed through the newly installed doors to the dining hall. Talon remembered it too well. The grand fireplace, the table filled the all sorts of food, the friends he invited to join him on such monumental occasion. . .

Talon looked at the plates of rotting food, maggots and failed Endust experiments that covered the table and the walls. The yellow fire that once painted the logs in the fireplace were replaced with blue soul fire. The sound of movement crept into his ears, almost like large snakes slithering through the walls.

Liquid dripped from the ceiling onto the floor next to Talon, interrupting his thoughts. The faint but constant, tap. . . tap. . . tap. . . from each droplet of liquid. He grinned and looked up. Chains run down from the ceiling, connected to the rusty meat hooks which were keeping the body in its place. It had fallen limp over however long it had hung there and was beginning to decay, the bones that made up the ribcage already showing.

A blue-black aura surrounded the body, illuminating it's scars and gaps where there should have been skin in its seemingly burned body. But what grew around it was the most beautiful part. (In Talon's eyes at least) Large tentacles sprouted from its body, like giant misshapen wings, spreading into the surrounding walls and through the gaps and halls. Talon put his hand under the dripping black-bluish-green substance, letting enough collect into his palm before licking it off his hand.

A mixture of Endust and Tar

Welcome back, Talon. The mouth on the body moved as the voice pierced Talon's thoughts, it was so strong that to an ordinary, untrained mind, it could kill them. But for Talon, it was barely a flick on his. Appendages and tentacles swirled around the room, picking up and dropping pieces of Endust and other objects, which were floating around the upper level, defying gravity itself.

Talon picked up a bucket, filling it with melted Endust from a pot over the fire; climbing a nearby ladder up to the body. Talon used the amarite sword he'd stolen off of Winsweep to pry open the mouth and poured the mixture inside.

The body jolted forward, it's eyes peeling open, letting out a guttural, inhumane groan sending a shiver down Talon's spine. The hooks creaked under its own weight, but Talon knew it wouldn't fail, it wouldn't fall. It's eyes darted to Talon's face, staring him down with its yellow pupils, studying him. Its throat muscles contorted, probably from the vile taste of what it had just swallowed.

It's jaws opened and snapped forward at Talon before its head dropped down and stopped moving, a final groan escaped before the body stilled.

Watch yourself. Is that better?

Yes. . . Thank you. . .

Perfect, I'll be back tomorrow. . . Mouthpiece.

Chapter Text

His bedroom always felt colder in the morning, but then again, Talon couldn't be sure if it was morning at all. Time didn't move the same as it did on the surface. Even with his redstone clock, Talon could never be sure how close it was to the true time until he would venture to the stairs. In a perfect world, the main entrance would still be open, but Talon closed himself off a long time ago after his big Endust Debut failed.

He shook his head, not wanting to think of what 'could have been', and rather choose to accept what he was doing now.

Another day.

Another mark on a seemingly infinite calendar that would never run out of days.

With a groan, Talon sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The blanket fell away, exposing threadbare gray pajamas to the stale chill of the room. His shoes waited at the edge of the bed, exactly where they’d left them the night before. Talon shoved his blistered feet into them, tying the frayed laces with mechanical precision. The small bedroom around him came into sharper focus as his eyes adjusted. The single, soul fire lantern on the floor cast flickering shadows against walls lined with shelves of miscellaneous cans and bowls of food; gears and elysium scrap; even more Endust experiments, all of which had failed.

Talon reached for the calendar pinned to the wall. A stub of charcoal sat next to it, its edges worn smooth from weeks of use. Then scratched a line through the last empty square of the month, leaving the paper riddled with black marks that blurred into one another.

Still sleepy, Talon stumbled into the dinning hall, looking over the table of rotten and infested food for something edible.

Good morning, Talon

Talon rubbed his temples, picking his mask off the floor. He'd remembered it was left hanging from the chain above it and looked at the strap, which was broken again. Quickly, Talon used his redneck engineering and taped it together until it looked like it wouldn't come loose.

I said good morning, Talon.

Yeah, and so what? Talon grabbed a half eaten chicken bone off the one thing that only had a little mold on it and bit down into it.

Usually this is where you respond with, 'Good morning to you too, Mouthpiece'

Talon grumbled, pulling the ladder back towards the body, once again filling another bucket with endust and climbing up to greet Mouthpiece once more.

Ooh, I don't get endust this early? What's the change?

Talon used the amarite sword again, like he'd done the previous night and pried the rotten jaws open to pour the mixture down Mouthpiece's throat.

I want to get this new Endust batch done quicker. It's been too long.

Do not worry, Talon. I think I have almost come to a final product.

Took you long enough. Talon slid down the ladder and pulled the ladder back to the side wall. Then he looked into the bucket, there was still Endust left.

In the heat of the moment, Talon tipped his head back to drink the rest of the mixture. The moment the Endust, and whatever else had been combined with it, touched his lips, a bitter, oily warmth coat his tongue almost instantaneously. Talon could still remember the first time he'd tried the concoction. It was like drinking burnt rubber with whiskey and spoiled milk (Not that he'd ever tasted something so foul). But now he'd some to the point where the taste didn't affect him so much. However, Talon's eyes began to water as the Endust burned its way down his throat.

Never can get used to it.

Shut up, I'll be back later.

Talon pulled on his sweater and changed into black pants before he could visit Winsweep. If all had been down like he'd asked, Winsweep would be in one of the cells, locked tight. 

The stone and spruce corridors of the stronghold stretched long and silent, Talon's only companion was the steady echo of his shoes against the wooden floor. While he didn't need it, Talon felt more comfortable with a torch in his hand. It gave him a sort of. . . sort of. . . ? Talon shook his head, he didn't need to explain to himself why he needed it, just that he did.

The light casted jagged shadows across the walls, dancing like wraiths in his wake. The air grew heavier the longer he walked, tinged with the damp chill of the earth and the faint metallic tang of old blood. 

The iron door at the end of the hall loomed larger with every step, familiar tendrils slithered around the archway and over the door, glinting faintly in the torchlight. As he approached, he could feel the familiar buzz of anticipation humming beneath his skin, a quiet thrill that quickened his pulse. Talon waved away the tentacles reaching for the handle, his fingers curling around the cold iron. He paused, letting the moment linger, savoring the quiet before the storm. A muffled sound—a low groan, perhaps a whimper—drifted from the other side of the door. Talon's smile deepened. They were awake.

The door groaned on its hinges as he pushed it open, the light from his torch spilling into the chamber beyond. Shadows retreated, revealing the mossy cobblestone walls, even with his soul fire lanterns, the torch in his hand cast more light then the lanterns. 

They stirred as Talon entered. A low murmur of groans and muffled whispers rippled through the room, barely audible over the incessant dripping of water from the ceiling. Shackles clinked faintly, bodies shifted in the dim light, and terrified eyes glinted from the darkness within their cells.

His pleasant gaze swept over the room, looking at each prisoner in their tiny cells.

Eight, who lay shackled at the bars.

Noxintrus. He looked to be sitting on his deflated mattress.

Amy. Still on the floor.

Moriya. Talon couldn't see him, nor could he see Will or Winsweep from his position.

“Good morning!” Talon cried excitedly, his voice calm yet his tone truly showed his excitement, despite the situation he was in. He stepped over the cracked and shifted floor to one of the cells, he peeked in at Winsweep, who was still sleeping peacefully. Talon chuckled and grabbed the keys off the wall to unlock the bars. Winsweep began to stir as the metal clicked and creaked open. Talon leaned down to face him as he attempted to pull his mask over his face.

"Mmmmmhhhh," He sighed, laying his head back on the pillow (If you could even call it that).

Talon greedily presented a dagger he'd grabbed from a chest and held it up for the rest of the prisoners to see. Talon eyed them to see what they would do. Noxintrus turned towards them, and gripped the bars. He looked nervous, but then again, weren't they all?

"Winsweep. . ." Talon whispered. "It's time to wake, I have a present for you."

Winsweep sleepily rolled over, muttering, "Five more minutes Diansu, the sun's not up yet."

Talon narrowed his eyes, frustration already bubbling as it wasn't going how he imagined it in his head. He clenched his jaw and took a deliberate step forward, his movements sharp and calculated. Without a word, he grabbed Winsweep's wrist, twisting it just enough to disrupt him, to wake him completely. Just enough for Winsweep to see it himself. In one fluid motion, Talon drew the weapon across Winsweep's forearm, leaving a clean, shallow cut.

Winsweep recoiled, yanking his hand back as a thin line of blood welled to the surface. His mask betrayed no emotion, but his body stiffened, and his movements dropped into something cold and dangerous. He attempted to reach for a weapon of his own, but reality quickly set in and he was sniffling in pain.

"I swear to fucking god, Talon," He growled, attempting to stand. "When I get out of this place, I will put your head on a stake."

"Blake!" Nox yelled from his cell.

Talon didn’t flinch. He was exhausted—his body ached, his mind screamed at him to just end it, but he knew he couldn't do anything until Winsweep had taken the new batch of Endust. Talon’s grip on the dagger wavered for a fraction of a second before he steadied it again. His breathing slowed as Mouthpiece's raspy voice slithered into his mind.

I forgot to tell you, Talon. The experiment with Noxintrus went well.

Talon's eye darted to Nox. The silence between them crackled, thick and unbearable. His hand slammed against the door to Winsweep’s cell, and with a loud Clunk!, the heavy metal door was forced shut, rattling in its frame. The echo reverberated, bouncing off the stone walls. It felt as though the sound itself was a warning, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Without a word, he stalked over, his movements almost predatory. Every step felt like a slow countdown, a ticking clock. He wasn’t rushing; he was savoring the moment.

Nox shrank back into the cold, unforgiving wall, his breath hitching as panic clawed at him. Talon had reached the iron bars, his fingers curling around the lock with an urgency that made his knuckles whiten. The faint clink of the key wielded echoed in the lock, sharp and jarring click as the metal turned to open. Just as the lock seemed to give way, a sharp, grating voice slithered into Talon's mind. Mouthpiece spoke again, his words dripping with menace, halting him mid-motion.

You have a raven, from one Doctor4t-

Of all the fucking times you could have interrupted me, I was just about to torture Nox!

I was just letting you know. . . You can continue. 

No, the moment is gone.

"You lay one fucking finger on him—!" Winsweep’s voice thundered, reverberating off the unyielding walls of the prison.

"Blake, stop," Eight rasped, his voice hoarse. "You’ll only make it worse for us."

"I DON'T GIVE TWO SHITS!" Winsweep bellowed, his voice raw and crackling with fury. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the bars of his cell with his good arm, the metal groaning under his force. "LOOK AT ME! LOOK ME IN THE EYES, TALON!"

Talon stepped back, his shoes scraping against the cracked stone floor. The center of the room gave him a clear angle into every cell—except for Will’s—but the collective gaze of his prisoners weighed heavily on him. Each pair of eyes was a knife, waiting to see how he would react to the tyranny against him.

Talon’s jaw tightened. He needed to set an example. Winsweep had to understand that rebellion came with a price—a price Talon was more than willing to enforce to achieve his goal.

"Winsweep," came a whisper, faint and fragile, from Will’s cell. It was almost drowned out by the storm of shouting and the air thick with tension, but Eight made sure Winsweep heard it. Slowly, agonizingly, the shouting subsided, leaving only Will’s voice to fill the void.

"Blake Winsweep," he whispered again, his tone trembling. "Please, I cannot take it anymore." Talon caught the hitch in Will’s voice, the way it cracked under the weight of suppressed tears.

Winsweep froze, his furious snarl faltering. He gripped the bars even tighter, his arm shaking with the strain. "You may have been here longer than me," he muttered "and you may know what he’s capable of, but I am not afraid of what he’ll do to me."

A pair of shackles clanked loudly as low thuds moved across the floor in Will's cell. Talon understood what he was doing, but didn't attempt to stop him. If Winsweep and all the rest see what Will looks like, maybe it will stop the rebellious actions forever. With hope, Talon quickly, but with pace, moved to the cell, unlocking the door and letting it swing open. Everyone was silent, watching hesitantly.

Clunk. . . Clunk. . . Clunk. . .

Chapter Text

Brutal. I am always surprised by your actions. I remember when I first approached you, all scared and weak. Look at you know, you have become something to fear.

I do want to be known, but not like that

One day your name will be known from the empire of Oceana to the outer isles of Gitaly. . . Even to the Farlands. Everyone will know your name, but they will be too hesitant to even utter it in the open.

I don't want to be like that, but I will do what it takes. Where's the raven?

It has flown into the dining hall, it appears to be feasting on. . . Hmm.

What? What's wrong?

Well, I think it's dead.

What?!

It's dead on the floor, it ate something, I don't know what. But I can see it is no longer moving.

Talon threw open the doors of the dining hall, he quickly looked around the room until he found the poor creature, its lifeless body sprawled by the fireplace, feathers ruffled and dull. He looked up at Mouthpiece's body.

You were right. It's dead

What does the letter say?

Talon knelt by the raven, careful not to touch its body as he reached for the small note tied to its leg. His fingers worked quickly to untie it, but there was a tension in his movements, as though he already knew whatever was written would change everything.

He stood and unfolded the letter, his sharp eyes darting over the words. He read it once, then again, his lips moving silently. The third time, his brow furrowed deeply, a shadow falling over his face.

So?

RAT wants me to come to Spawn.

Oooh, an adventure.

He didn't respond immediately, unsure of what to say, think, or even do. Talon hadn't spoken to RAT since the Endust Debut. His eyes rested on the fireplace, where the fire continuously danced on the logs even after weeks of being lit. Whatever this was, it wasn't an adventure, it could be a trap.

It could be

Get the fuck out of my thoughts! I thought I told you not to do that again.

Sorry for being curious. Are you gonna go?

The answer wasn't clear yet, but something told Talon it would be best to go. If he didn't, it could prompt a search and they (assuming it wasn't just RAT) could discover his secret. The truth.

I'm going, I have all my stuff if I need it.

Well, if you ever need me, you know I'm just a thought away. Oh and how did that Charter grenade work?

It worked just fine.

Talon ascended the winding staircase to the nether portal. The steel barricades surrounding it had been erected for protection—or perhaps as a cage—but they were no match for his determination (Rather his pickaxe). With a series of sharp blows, the walls came crashing down, the echoing clang of metal reverberating through the space. He hadn't been through this portal in a long while, hesitating at the entrance, staring at the deep purple swirls and ethereal sounds it made. There was no turning back now.

As he emerged into the nether, the oppressive heat wrapped around him like a suffocating cloak. The thick, acrid stench of sulfur, and the faint glow of molten lava illuminated the jagged basalt terrain. Talon moved with purpose, though the unfamiliar twists and turns of the basalt wastes slowed his progress.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, realizing he’d taken a wrong turn into a nether fortress. He cursed himself again as he backtracked, the dark halls of the fortress echoing with the distant clatter of skeletal feet and guttural growls of unseen beasts. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found the main portal network and stepped through.

"Woah, okay," Talon muttered as he emerged on the other side. The sight before him stopped him in his tracks. "Spawn has changed."

The once-familiar landmarks were now replaced with towering structures and sprawling pathways. The faint hum of activity buzzed in the air, though the place seemed far more polished—and chaotic—than he remembered.

Pulling out the note, he glanced at the coordinates again. If RAT’s directions were accurate, he’d find them near the large pink trees in the center of Spawn.

"Fuck, why can't I remember what they are called." The scent of the blossoms drifted faintly on the wind as he approached the area. He stopped at the top of the stairs, his voice cutting through the quiet night. "Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello, Talon," RAT's voice rang out from above. Talon snapped his head up, spotting him perched casually atop the sprawling pink tree. Startled, Talon instinctively stepped back, catching his foot on his shoelaces and landing flat on his ass. He scrambled to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes with frantic hands. His mask, at least, spared him the humiliation of his flushed face being seen.

"Hi, hi. Hello." He said, making sure all the dust was off his back.

"How's it going," RAT continued, jumping down from the tree and landing gracefully on his feet. Talon blinked at RAT a few times when he didn't continue with anything else.

"So, uh, you needed me for something?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's been a bit of time, Anyways, you need to come with me, so. . . Lux went to go get some chains. You know how Blake and Nox have been running some interrogations?"

"Yeah," Talon recountered the events before his big Endust Debut, where Blake and Nox had come for a visit to interrogate him. He could still recount the entire conversation. Mostly about the End Portals and items with relations to the End. Talon had given very vague answers during the entire time.

"So, we are kinda leading our own investigations," RAT continued, moving Talon away from his thoughts. "Because if there is an End Portal to be found then we need to-"

"Dude," Talon interrupted, raising a hand. He was tired, worn out from constantly being pulled into others' schemes. "I’m sick of this shit. I just want to go home."

"Okay, okay, Talon," RAT said as Lux arrived at his left side, holding chains. Talon looked at the chains, a slight fear in the back of his mind that he was about to become a hostage. "It's for your own good, trust me. We're trying to accumulate evidence against Winsweep and Noxintrus. Basically to tell you the truth, we are trying to ban people all together."

"Oh my God, that's your master plan?" Talon didn't want that to happen, he still wanted peace, that is what this was all for. "You think permanently killing them will solve all this?"

"Well you want to get rid of them, don't you!" RAT shot back, his voice rising in frustration. "Wasn't that the whole point of Endust!"

Talon stiffened, the weight of RAT’s words settling over him. It was true—he had envisioned peace. But not like this. Not with more conflict, more chains, and more schemes. This wasn’t the way he wanted to achieve it. 

"That was not-" Began, only to be interrupted by Mouthpiece once again.

Shhh, calm down. To them, you are quiet spoken. Don't make them any more hesitant than they have to be.

What are they thinking?

They are good at hiding it, I can't tell.

"No one is thinking anything about you, we promise," Lux said, their tone disarmingly casual.

Talon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to bring everyone together, for the most part."

"That's what we're doing!" RAT cried. "Literally!"

Talon didn't know what to do. He just wanted to go back to what he was doing. Or go to bed, he was feeling sleepy from the long day of beating in skulls. 

"Look, Talon," Lux said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We forgive you for all the Endust and stuff. Like we understand you didn't know that you'd be summoning demons out to sic us."

"If it makes you feel like you have more of a choice, you don't have to partake in this endeavor," RAT said.

"You know what? It’s fine," Talon said with a forced shrug, already regretting the words. "Let’s just do this sooner rather than later."

"Okay, great!" RAT said with a grin. "Lux, you’ve got the chains. I’ve got the minecarts. We’re heading to Rattenheim—it’s basically the only place that’s still safe."

"Rattenheim?" Talon echoed, following the two toward the rail line. The name tugged at his memory, but the rail line was likely the same one he'd taken with Winsweep to Oceana. That was only. . . only. . . two days ago? Or was it longer? Time had blurred into a haze of violence and plotting.

The sun had begun to rise as they reached the rail line, its golden light glinting off the steel tracks. RAT busied himself hooking the carts together with the chains while Lux attached the furnace cart to the front.

"You’re sitting in the front," RAT instructed, gesturing to the lead cart. Talon reluctantly climbed in, RAT taking the cart behind him while Lux settled into the last one. After Talon added fuel to the furnace cart, they lurched forward, the rhythmic clicks and clacks of the wheels echoing in his ears.

The wind whipped past Talon’s face as the train of carts sped along the tracks, drowning out most of the surrounding noise. His ears still rang faintly from the railgun blast a few days prior.

You don’t think Diansu will come looking for us, right?

"What!" Lux yelled over the wind.

"I can't hear you!" Talon yelled back

After a few more moments, RAT yelled to Talon, "We're going to one of the secret room in Rattenheim, so the track is going to deviate from the main entrance. It's kinda scuffed, it's actually really scuffed so just hand on, it gets kinda tight."

Talon zoned out while RAT kept explaining, looking at the mountain scenery around him before dipping into the valleys. But something felt off to him. There were much better modes of transportation, so why are we using the old rail line?

His question was answered as the cart suddenly veered onto a different track, dipping sharply into a narrow tunnel. The walls pressed in around them, the ceiling so low Talon instinctively ducked. Torches lit the way, but they grew sparser, their warm light eventually swallowed by the encroaching darkness. The carts whipped around a corner and Talon's sweater snagged on the side, ripping off the sleeve. "Fuck," He said as a few droplet of blood leaked down his forarm.

Without warning, the furnace cart at the front jumped the rails, plunging into a dark shaft. Talon’s cart was yanked forward, teetering precariously before the chain snapped tight.

"Shit!" Talon scrambled out of his cart, the iron minecart threatening to pull the rest of the train into the abyss. Climbing over RAT’s and Lux’s carts, he reached solid ground just as the chain gave way. The carts tumbled down the shaft, their clattering echo swallowed by the darkness below.

"Woah, what the hell was that," He looked back down the tunnel, not seeing RAT or Lux. "Hello? Where did you guys go?

The woosh of a portal followed from where the carts had just fallen down. Carefully, Talon peaked down and saw a sight he'd never seen before. The abyss of deep blue void and small, twinkling stars that was the gateway of an End Portal.

"Impossible," Talon gasped. "They were destroyed."

"I'm sorry Talon," Lux appeared behind Talon. Before he could do anything, they pushed him, and down he fell down the shaft with no hope of escape.

Chapter Text

The wind roared around him as Talon fell.

Stone turned deep slate blurred past in streaks of gray and darker gray, the end-portal's shimmering glow swirled like a mouth beneath him, jaws wide, ready to swallow him whole. Above, Lux’s voice echoed down the shaft—distant, screaming words he didn’t bother trying to make out what she said.

He reached out blindly, trying to find something. Anything.

Fingers found jagged rock. He slammed into the wall, bones shuddering, rock scraping cloth and skin alike. His grip against the rock tore up his skin, fingers turned white from the pressure before the familiar red liquid was gushing from his knuckles. His shoes kicked out and skidded against the shaft’s edge, sending chips of stone tumbling into the void.

His body stopped moving, at least, enough where he had time to think.

Talon's eyes flew open, letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding before his lungs sucked in another big breath.

"What the hell happened?" Doctor4t's unmistakable voice shouted from above.

"He's stuck!" Luxintrus shouted back.

"What!"

"I said, HE'S STUCK!"

"Well, get him unstuck!" RAT yelled

Talon tilted his head back, looking up at far as he dared.

"Shit!"

A large rock hit him directly in the face. Lucky for him, his mask took the blunt of the damage. Even then, the force sent his head backwards, farther than he previously believed his neck would allow.

The stone clattered against the walls, hitting each side before getting swallowed by the swirling mess of void.

Another rock, slightly smaller, hit his knee. He buckled from the pain and slid farther down the shaft. Talon glanced at his surroundings, his mind churned with the possibilities of escape, but also the possibilities of failure.

He tried to push the latter out of his mind. If he could just get back up...

No. It was too far. Even then, he'd have to go through Lux to escape and possibly RAT. It was far too risky and dangerous.

Calculations raced through his mind, most likely the answer he came up with was wrong, but Talon could only assume he was many blocks down from the ledge. And again, getting to the top was not a viable solution.

His hearth pumped rapidly. Talon took many deep breaths—needing to calm his nerves before trying anything crazy—all the while rocks and food were thrown at him by Luxintrus from above.

"Just fall already, Talon!" She cried. "It's not as bad as you think."

"Liar!" He shouted back, his voice hoarse from all the yelling and screaming and crying he had been doing these past weeks.

"She's not lying," RAT said, throwing a rock down, missing him by an inch. "It's less bleak and dark as you think. Well, mostly..."

"Mostly!" Talon asked.

"Just trust us and fall!"

"How can I trust you—" Talon mumbled just loud enough that they could hear him. "—When you couldn't even tell me where we were going originally?"

The rocks stopped falling and silence engulfed the shaft. Talon winced in pain.

Gently, he adjusted his grip. His first palm moved soundlessly, but as he moved his other hand, blood and skin ripped and more dripped down his arm. His fingers and palms were raw and bloodied from stopping his descent, blood soaking into the stone he was holding on to for dear life.

He gasped as his body slipped further down the shaft, closer to the portal.

"Because we knew you wouldn't trust us," RAT said.

"And you think this makes me trust you more!" Talon shouted, his voice filled with fury. "What even was the plan!"

Silence.

"Think, think, think," Talon whispered, closing his eyes and going into his mind again.

Mouthpiece...

He waited for a response.

Mouthpiece?

Nothing. Talon was beginning to feel worry corse through his veins.

Hold on, I'm coming.

Talon let out a sigh of relief.

"Incoming!" Lux shouted from above.

Talon looked up again, just in time to see more rocks raining down on him like hail. He kicked out, letting his back touch the other side of the shaft. He removed his hands and pressed them against the opposite sides. Four points of contact. His best chance for survival.

From above, the debris rained down—tools, rocks, anything Lux and RAT could throw. One glanced off his shoulder. Another struck his wrist.

His grip faltered.

His breath caught in his throat as he slipped another inch closer to the void.

Almost there, hold on.

The voice echoed around his skull. Talon clenched his jaw, ignoring the sting in his hands, the sting in his pride. But his strength was failing.

What do you think I'm doing!

Keep calm. You'll be fine.

Just hurry

"Who are you talking to, Talon?" Lux peered down the shaft, just long enough for Talon to lock eyes with them. She didn't hate anyone, as long as they weren't allied with Diansu or Blake. But why him? What did they have against him?

He glanced away.

Things will be better when it's over

A low, guttural hum echoed through the shaft—like air being sucked out of the world. Then silence. Something thick and constantly pressing into the stone.

It wasn’t just the absence of light—it was the sound of everything being swallowed.

And from within that crushing stillness came a noise that didn’t belong.

Laughter.

Thin at first, almost playful. Then sharper. Crueler. A chorus of something ancient and amused crawling across the stone.

"What the hell!"

"LUX! Get back!"

"RAT NO!"

"HHRGGHH—AAGKH!"

It tore out of RAT’s throat—half scream, half breathless gurgle.

Talon blinked—just in time to see a flailing shape fall from the shaft’s edge. RAT tumbled, limbs thrashing, and slammed into Talon’s side. The blade he had in his hands slipped, slicing through Talon's leg. He yelped in pain, His grip faltered.

RAT's hands grabbed hold of him in a deathgrip, pulling him down.

"If I'm going in there, then you're coming with me!" He growled, producing a blade and attempting to slice at Talon's hands to make him fall.

"Get off of me!" He tried to kick RAT off. "You betrayed me."

"We did what we had to... You should know that..."

Talon desperately tried to free himself, knowing whatever was beyond that portal was nothing good.

Where...

DOWN HERE!

The darkness circled downwards, enveloping the small shaft, darkness oozed from the stone and all light ceased to exist. Talon pushed his fingers into a small cubby in the cracked rock and kicked his foot into RAT's face.

A soft crack echoed and blood dripped from his nose.

"You bitch!" RAT yelled, ripping his blade free from Talon's leg and stabbing him in the same place again and again.

He tried to use the techniques that Mouthpiece taught him—“Let the pain rise. Let it burn. If you must bleed, then you bleed forward.”—Talon could still hear Mouthpiece saying it as he would beat the living shit out of him... Or where those just his nightmares?

It reached past his eyes—a hand from the darkness, bony and black, with long fingers and sharp nails. It slowly reached until it found it's target. RAT gasped, trying to swipe it away as it strangled him. His grip slipped from Talon, and only then did the hand let go.

"NO!" He screamed before the portal took him away.

There was no light. No noise. No time to scream.

Just a pull form the hand—

And then Talon was gone.

Chapter Text

The darkness warped into hundred of different shades of purple, blue, black, pink and everything in between. Talon was thrown around the chaos, his mind going dull as all he could do was watch. Faces screamed by him: EightSidedSquare, Noxintrus, Amy Mialee... Each one bloodied and broken. Each one—someone he had captured. Someone whom he had brutally abused and beaten.

Without thought, Talon was thrown across the darkness, his body ricocheting against invisible walls and corners. Finally, he slowed, tumbling across a rough, rocky surface until his back hit a wall. He mumbled to himself, something about 'Shadow Travel'. He rolled over onto his stomach, wanting to rest on the cool surface, but he need to move.

Talon huffed and pushed himself onto his knees before judging his surroundings once again.

He was in the City of Oceana—rather—in one of the side streets between two of the buildings. But something felt off as he carefully walked out onto the main cobbled deep slate street. There were no lights on. No people either. Despite being the middle of the day as it seemed, every building was dark and empty inside.

"Hello?" Talon called, despite his conscious telling him it was a bad idea.

He took a step forward, wondering if this was a dream or real life. His shoes echoed around empty city. Vines hung from the rooftops, windows were broken and the entire place smell like a raging fire had passed through, yet left most of the buildings untouched.

He found the main tavern building. He was brought back to an old memory of him, Diansu, and Blake sharing a drink of cider while playing cards.

He missed those days.

Clack!

Talon turned suddenly to the stairwell.

"Hello?" He whimpered. "Diansu? Anyone... there?"

Something passed by one of the broken windows.

A shadow and the creaking of steel. It seemed huge but moved nearly soundlessly.

"Diansu?" Talon whispered, running outside.

He passed out into the street again—turned the corner—but whatever it was, it was gone. Talon looked up at the sky—he gasped.

The sky above wasn’t sky at all, just a swirling mess of color, shifting and twisting like ink in water. He stood in the middle of it all as the city around him turned to dust.

Talon's breath staggered backwards, beginning to run. The world around him raced past in violent shades of black and blue. 

“Still running?” a voice asked. It came from nowhere, yet everywhere, seeping into his bones. Talon turned, nearly tripping on something in the mess. He backpedaled until his body stopped.

There they were—standing just a few feet away. Their eye glimmering from a light that didn't exist. It looked like Diansu—Yet it was much taller, covered in oil and grease and looked much stronger.

"What the hell are you?" Talon gasped, looking for something to defend himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be alive," It grunted, displaying a bloodied blade built into its arm.

He shook his head. “No—You don't exist—This is just a nightmare."

"Nightmare?" It mumbled. "What is that?"

Talon opened his mouth to answer, then closing it just as quickly.

"I don't know," He whispered.

It stepped forward without hesitation raising the blade towards him. Talon stared at the blood, how it seemed to be a fresh kill. He tried to move, but he suddenly found himself trapped in place. He gasped as he looked down, his shoes bolted into the ground—no pain, however.

The Thing was on him in an instance. It moved soundlessly—too quiet for something of that size and mass.

The blade hesitated at Talon's throat as It spoke.

"What is your name?"

"Talon," he replied.

Curiously it edged the blade closer to his neck, the sharp bit slicing through the top layer of skin like butter. He gritted in pain.

"What is your name?" Talon grumbled, staring the beast directly in Its eye.

It stopped.

"My father never gave me one... Maybe I should ask him."

"Your father?" Talon questioned.

"Yes. I thank you for the idea. Goodbye, Talon."

Ssschk—GLRRK!

⌁ ⟡ ⌁

Talon sat up quickly. His clothes drenched in sweat. His heart racing a million miles a minute. He had no idea where he was or what he just witness. He struggled to make out the shapes in front of him. Talon rubbed his eyes for a moment as the dizziness and blurred objects actually transformed into the shapes of a room.

Stained pillars. A steel structure stairwell leading to the side balconies that overlooked the dining hall. The chitter and squeaks of mice and rats that fed upon the rotten turkey and mold infested pies. Creaking of chains and the wet movements of octopus appendage-like limbs in the walls and rooms surrounding.

He arose. His shoes—Which weren't bolted to the floor—creaked across the blackened floorboards. He stood near the creature, but didn't look up. Not yet. The grand fireplace still crackled with its purple fire. It wasn't lit when he left.

The air hung thick with iron and something he couldn't quite place. Death, maybe? Blood? Or something darker...

Talon's eyes flickered up to the body. To the thing that had saved him once again.

Still strung to the ceiling by the rusted meat hooks, the figure had slumped slightly more, as if exhausted by its own decay. The chains groaned gently as the air whispered through cracks in the spruce walls. Its body remained the same—burned and stretched like parchment, ribs exposed, blue-black aura pulsing faintly beneath the skin. Tentacles, now sluggish, still curled lazily through the air, brushing the rafters like dying branches.

But to Talon, it looked different.

It wasn’t just the monstrous form, the warped muscle, or the glowing scars anymore. It was the hand that had touched his—pulled him from the brink. The voice that had cut through the dark like a wire to his soul. It had saved him.

He stepped beneath it, quietly, reverently. The same tar-black ichor dripped, now slower, like a wound sealing. Talon let a few drops hit his sleeve but didn’t taste it like last time.

He whispered, “You brought me back…”

The mouth didn’t move. The body didn’t stir. But a faint hum escaped the body.

Talon looked at it for one more moment before taking another bucket. He mixed it the same as he always did—adding different items like all the other times. Then he took the ladder and climbed up to the body

It's bony fingers flexed as he reached the last step on the ladder. It's jaw slacked open. Ready. Waiting.

Talon huffed and gently poured the chunky, thick liquid into Its mouth. It jolted as the liquid oozed down the throat. It's eyes opened and a groan escaped the jaws. A low sound, but loud. The tentacles grabbed hold of the rafters and surrounding pillars. The hooks shuddered and creaked by the sound. Talon looked dead into the eyes of it.

The once white sclera had turned black, surrounding the yellow slit of Its pupil. It frantically searched him, before finally locking eyes with his.

The vibrations shook the room and possible the entire base. It was like stone grinding on bone, then turned warped into a wet, ragged exhale, as if tar and smoke had grown lungs and were trying to breathe.

There were layers to it. One part a rumbling growl, another a strained, airy moan like a dying furnace, and beneath it all… a whispering static, like voices choked beneath mud.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it pressed on Talon’s chest.

It wasn’t painful. Not quite. It was reminder.

That this thing had been awake the whole time. And it remembered everything that was happening to it.

Finally, the noise ceased. snuffed out like the flame from a candle. It let out a sound that felt a lot like a sigh.

Thank you, Mouthpiece.

You were careless. You should have at least brought a weapon.

Talon rolled his eyes, knowing this would happen.

Well, I have you to save me when this happens.

And what if I didn't? What then?

Well you did. And That's all that matters, isn't it?

Silence. He waited for Mouthpiece's response, but it never came. He grunted and climbed down the ladder. Talon threw the bucket aside and started towards the door.

Don't mistake necessity for affection. I dragged you from that void because this plan cannot survive without you. Not because I wanted to.

You say that. But you wanted to help me all those weeks ago. Don't forget who approached who.

That wasn't the best response. Two of the tentacles rushed forwards and blocked the door. Talon flinched backwards as another one grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him up to Mouthpiece's body. It eyed him carefully as words escaped its mouth without moving.

You bleed too easily. You hesitate. You let your emotions take root. Lux should not have had the chance to push you.

The body stirred again—black tendrils slithering over the rusted chains.

Do you remember what we’re building? What Endust demands?

Talon didn't let his fear control him. He pushed passed that.

Yes. I do. And if I were you, I would drop me. Right. Now.

He dropped, hitting the table and sending small spiderweb cracks along its termite infested surface. Talon mumbled and sat up, looking at Mouthpiece.

Very funny. I remember fine. Better than anyone else. And I’m still here, aren’t I?

Barely.

Still... Thanks for this.

You're so human. Makes me think why I even offered my hand to you.

Enjoy me while it lasts. I'm not dying before we can change what happened. How long until the final product is ready?

A week... but don't get your hopes up... Things change

I know they do. Just... Keep working. And watch over the prisoners while your at it. Good night. I need sleep. He laughed to himself. I might just die without some.

He jumped off the table and towards the door. Talon waved his hand and the tentacles receded. He opened the door, walking towards his bedroom, but the voice that followed would stick with him the rest of the night

You won’t die, Talon. Not until I say so.

Chapter Text

The minecart surged forward along the rail, metal wheels grinding against the iron track with a rhythmic clack-clack… clack-clack… clack-clack…, each seam thudding beneath him like a pulse. Something hurried. Metallic. Alive.

Below, ocean waves crashed against the support pillars, sending up sprays of mist that kissed the bottom of the rail line. The sound echoed hollow and deep. The sea speaking in ancient tongues.

Wind whistled past Talon’s ears, carrying with it the sharp cries of seagulls circling far overhead. He barely took to noticing them anymore.

Far beneath the water, something groaned.

Ooooooaaaaaaargh…

It was distant. Something ancient as it was vast. Not quite a whale. Not quite a machine. Possible another one of Arathain's experiments. Like the Soul Molds. Talon shuddered, but not from the cold spray.

He hated the Soul Molds. Despite there being so few left of the original ones that Arathain created. He tightened his grip on the edge of the cart as the track curved slightly, the wheels hitting a set of rusted bolts with a CRANG-CRANG-CLUNK, jolting him forward.

The sun hadn't even risen over the horizon. He didn't want to risk an encounter with the remaining members around the server. Especially with Lux or Diansu. His mind drifted with the rhythmic clatter of the tracks. He began to wonder about RAT, and where the portal lead to.

Don't get too distracted... Mouthpiece's voice invaded his mind again. You have work to do.

Get out of my thoughts, would you? I'm just thinking things over.

No you're not. Don't lie.

Talon grumbled his annoyance but quickly let it go. He didn't want to piss off that Thing any more than he already had.

You are not far from Oceana. Do you have your tools?

Yes, I do.

Swords? Pickaxe?

Yes. Yes. I have everything. Did Will make anymore smoke bombs? The ones I used when I escaped from Oceana?

You don't have to explain which ones. I know everything.

Well someone of us may not know.

We are the only two in this conversation.

You don't know that. There could be others, reading... listening to everything we are saying.

You must be mental.

Talon waved his hands in the air. It was one of his best tactics to get away from Mouthpiece. He always seemed to leave him alone after that. Good thing he did or Talon wouldn't have seen the track switch coming up.

He leaned over the edge of the cart as far as he dared so not to tip it and reached his palm out to flip the level.

His palm struck the wooden handle with much more force that he intended. The wood was old, but held strong. It flipped onto its other side and the tracks ahead switched. Talon completely ignored the sign which read: SLOW AROUND TURN. He'd been to Oceana enough times to know that no matter how fast he was going, the cart wouldn't flip.

Supposedly it was installed after Will was testing it during the building process. He had Eight go at a 'supposed' safe speed around the bend. Unfortunately for him, his cart tipped and he was flung into the ocean below.

Part of him wished he had been there to see that happen.

STOP!

Talon was pulled from his daze as Mouthpiece's voice practically vibrated his skull.

His eyes flicked up.

The tracks ended.

His heart kicked. He lunged for the brake—yanked the steel bar back with both hands, shoes braced against the cart’s edge for leverage.

Too late.

The wheels screeched—a piercing metallic shriek as they locked and skidded, sparks spewing from the rails.

CLANG—THUNK!

The cart slammed into the barrier. Talon rocketed forward, his mask cracking against cold stone. The world jerked sideways. He nearly vaulted over the barrier itself. Thankfully, his boots caught the lip of the cart and snapped him back.

Pain lanced through his jaw. Something fell.

He reached up, breathing hard, fingers brushing splintered ceramic and exposed skin.

Another shard of his mask was gone.

His jaw… maybe half his mouth… laid bare. He didn’t need a mirror to know.

He could feel the wind against flesh that hadn’t felt the open air since... He didn't know. He didn't know how long it had been since he removed his mask to let the world see it. It could easily been months.

Thanks for the warning

But there was no response. No witty comment. No harsh chastising about paying attention to his surroundings. He wondered if he had angered Mouthpiece. Maybe he didn't want to make conversation. And frankly, that was perfectly fine with him.

Talon swung his legs over the edge of the cart and made sure he was standing on solid ground before standing up straight. He brushed off his sweater and pants and made sure he wasn't bleeding. His sword had been thrown from his hand and now lay under the platform.

He briskly paced down the stairs and picked up the netherite tool. He didn't know where his amarite one went.

Talon glanced at his surroundings—studying each building, each vantage point, each escape route. The early morning sun was now just rising, casting a sweet warm glow on the wood and copper rooftops. 

As long as he didn't encounter Diansu, he would be fine.

"What am I here for?" He mused, collecting his thoughts. "Right... Elysium."

In order for Will to continue making him weapons and anything else he needed, he needed Elysium. And a lot of it. Therefore Oceana—the only current manufacturer of the metal compound—was the best place to find it.

Talon sucked in a breath, already dreading the walk into the city. Yet slowly but surely, he forced his feet to move. And the more steps he took, the more confident he became. Soon enough, he was dead center of the city. He had passed the small bridge and Will's old workshop, moving towards the city center and the old tavern building.

He stopped.

Talon eyed the tavern.

Then his eyes went to the windows of the surrounding buildings.

Everything looked perfectly in order.

No vines.

No broken windows.

No empty buildings.

Everything still seemed to be alive.

He turned. Half expecting to see Diansu—or whatever he saw in that nightmare—But no one was there.

Shadow travel, as Mouthpiece called it, was his way of moving around. He could get anywhere, at any time, in any second. The only problem with using it, and why it wasn't used more often, is that it induced intense nightmares and could show very strange scenes.

The first time Talon experienced it, he saw a very brutal, nightmarish scene of himself. He could tell it was him, but at the same time... It looked as if he was a zombie. Flesh burned and tattered, his body rotting but still moving.

Mouthpiece ensured it was just the effects of the travel, but it was the only scene that had stuck with him to this day, weeks later.

Talon pushed against the wooden doors of a workshop. The doors groaned under their own weight and reluctantly opened. He tiptoed inside and let the door remain open, but just barely. He sneaked past machinery and tools scattered around the floor.

"Jeez," Talon commented. "Would it kill him to clean in here sometimes?"

The light from a single soul lantern guided him to the workbench in the room. He set his sword on the wooden table, picking up the lantern in its stead. He moved around the workshop with ease, searching under tables and on high shelves, looking for his prize.

He would eventually find some, a few ingots on the highest shelf. It was only a few, but enough to work with for now.

Talon set the lantern down on the table, reaching for his sword when something caught his eye.

"Would you look at that..." He grinned.

Under the table was a box, filled to the brim with Elysium ingots.

Excitedly, he gripped the sides and pulled it out quickly.

Talon set the box on the table and shifted through the contents to make sure it was just Elysium. Thankfully, it was.

"This is perfect," He said. "Now, how am I gonna fit this in the cart?"

He didn't spend too much time measuring it. Worst comes to worse, he'd carry it in his lap and go a little slower on his turns. He laid his sword on top and practically skipped for the door. But once again, his excitement got the best of him and he wasn't careful.

His shoes became tangled in loose cables that Diansu must have left out. His balance teetered and and slipped. The box fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

A sharp click echoed overhead. Then, everything turned red.

WAAHHHN—WAAHHHN—WAAHHHN!

The siren blared—a low, gut-punching sound like a wounded beast howling through steel lungs. It pulsed in waves, vibrating the walls, rattling pipes overhead.
A harsh strobe of crimson light exploded across the room, flashing in sync with the alarm—off, on, off, on—like the heartbeat of something angry and mechanical.

A secondary sound joined it—a rapid beeping. It was higher-pitched, shrill and frantic, like an old warning bell caught in a death spiral.

Somewhere deep in the walls, gears shifted. Locks slammed shut.

The heavy wooden door was pulled closed.

His eyes flickered to the windows as automatic metal shutters slammed closed. He gasped, picking himself up and running at the door. He kicked and rammed his shoulder into it, trying to get it to open. 

He tried to block out the constant whine of the alarm, his ears ringing with each pulse. The red light bathed the walls in violence. The sirens pierced deeper than sound—they gnawed at his nerves. Only then did he begin punching the wood.

Each bash echoed. Each blow ringing. Each time, his knuckles became more red and raw and bleeding. They had still not fully healed from his last incident at the portal.

Then—

PSSSSSSSSHHHT—

The vents hissed.

The sirens cut out.

Sudden silence.

Talon froze.

Another hiss.

Then another.

He looked up—but it was too late.

White mist began pouring from the ceiling grates. It billowed like fog at first… then thickened.

His lungs burned with the first breath.

Poison gas.

He stumbled back, choking, hand flying to his mask—but it was cracked, useless to him even if it wasn't

“No no no—!” he slammed his fist against the sealed door. “COME ON!”

The gas curled toward him like a predator, filling every shadow, every corner, slithering down the walls with patient hunger.

He backed into the corner of the door, coughing hard, vision swimming.

The edges of his sight turning red and blurriness consumed him. He dropped to his knees, weakly banging on the door.

"No..." He slurred. "Mouthpiece... Mouthpiece... Mouth... Piece..."

Talon slumped backwards, the gas too much for him.

Fuck... I'm gonna die here.

The door opened, but he was too weak to move.

"I knew you'd come back eventually," a voice laughed. "And when I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you died a long time ago."

He didn't have anything left. All he could do was let the darkness take him.

Chapter Text

tick… tick… tick…

The soft yet rhythmic chime of a clock caused him to stirr from his slumber.

His head throbbed—heavy and fogged. Limbs numb. A slow ache pulsed behind his eyes and slid into his ears. When he tried to move, ropes dug into his wrists. His ankles were tied, cinched so tight he could feel the wood grain of the chair through his shoes.

tick… tick… tick…

The room creaked around him.

As his vision adjusted, dim shapes began to form. Warped, sea-stained walls bowed inward like the room had been sinking for decades. Mold climbed the corners. The only light came from a pair of sea lanterns above—sputtering, sickly green, coated in a thick grime that made the light pulse unevenly, like a dying heartbeat.

Shadows danced in the flicker.

tick… tick… tick…

Talon glanced up at the nearest wall. Banners sagged in an indent on the wall. The colors were bleached, its edges torn and curling. Barely readable beneath mildew and age, it read:

“Diansu’s Friends”

He grimaced.

Talon recognized the banners, but something about them gave an off putting feeling to all this.

tick… tick… tick…

Around him, other chairs sat scattered—some broken, others intact but twisted at awkward angles. As if someone had struggled in them. As if others had sat here once... and didn’t leave.

He shifted in the ropes. Scanning his surroundings. 

A table stood not far off. Neatly arranged tools gleamed dully in the half-light: pliers, clamps, old syringes, wire spools, sharpened rods, jagged metal hooks.

Talon's heart skipped a beat seeing that some were still painted in old blood. He began to struggle at his restraints. He couldn't take his eyes off the tools as he shouted and kicked and clawed at the rope.

The door across from him cracked on its hinges—shifting just enough to remind him he was not alone.

tick… tick… tick…

The clock kept counting down. Or maybe… up.

Mouthpiece please if you're listening I need help.

He waited, gently twisting his wrist as much as he could, but there was no voice back.

Mouthpiece?

Hey, I need some help here?

Talon waited for the spirit's voice to shake his mind—As much as he hated when it happened—But there was nothing.

Alright. I get it. I learned my lesson. But this isn't funny anymore!

For a second, he thought he heard the low grumble his friend, but it was only creaking of the walls. 

And then it finally set in.

Mouthpiece wasn't coming.

He took a few deep breaths in, not wanting to get panicked. The air tasted like rot and rust, warm and heavy in his throat. His heart pounded in his ears, but he forced the rhythm to steady.

Stay calm. Focus, Talon.

He twisted, felt the skin pinch. The old trick: dislocate the thumb, slip the hand free. He braced, exhaled hard, and pulled.

A sharp jolt—Pain flared up his forearm. His hand trembled uselessly. He gritted his teeth and hissed through them, shaking his head. No good. Either the angle was wrong or the swelling too much. It wasn’t going to work.

He leaned back, breathing through clenched teeth.

Think. Look. Study the room.

Talon shut his eyes and breathed out, the breath passing through the exposed part of the mask and hitting his knees. He shivered from the coolness of it.

A faint drip echoed from somewhere behind the walls. Across from him, the table of implements stood like an altar to pain—its tools dull and grime-covered, but sharp enough. Sharp enough to cut rope. Maybe.

He sized the distance. Maybe three meters. If he rocked the chair enough, if he timed it with the creaks in the floor, maybe he could drag himself across. Maybe.

He adjusted his weight, getting ready to tilt—

Movement.

Just past the edge of the table. A shift. A shadow.

Talon froze. His breath caught.

There—tucked into the dark corner beside the table—sat a figure in a chair.

Still and unmoving. Half-swallowed by the flickering shadows

Talon’s eyes widened. How long had it been there? How had he not noticed it?

He stared.

The figure didn’t move. Not even to breathe.

He squinted through the darkness, waiting for the lights to flicker again. It happened so fast, Talon barely had time to process the thing in front of him. But he recognized it anyways. The brass and upgraded elysium plating. The tattered trench coat. His dirty suit and tie. One shoulder slumped just enough to make it look… lifeless.

Diansu.

Talon’s throat went dry.

tick… tick… tick…

He watched for a full minute, hoping it was a trick of the light. That maybe the thing in the corner was a statue. A husk. A memory burned into the room like the banners above.

Then its head turned.

Just one inch.

Directly toward him.

No sound. No sudden movement.

Just the quiet, unflinching attention of something that had been watching him all along.

tick… tick… tick…

Talon was alone with no help or backup coming.

His life was at the cold, metal fingers of a machine that didn't believe in mercy.

His breath left him in a quiet, shaking exhale. The ropes suddenly felt tighter. The shadows heavier. He locked eyes with the man—no, the thing—across the room and saw no warmth in the cracked lens of Diansu’s screen. No hate either.

Just silence and the soft noise of the ticking clock.

Talon straightened in his chair, spine stiff, refusing to show fear—but his heartbeat betrayed him as the computer man shifted once more, uncrossing his legs. Talon blinked, praying this wasn't real.

The old wooden floor groaned softly as Diansu stood.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t even look at Talon.

He simply stepped toward the table. His fingers hovering above the rusted instruments—pliers, hammers, branding hooks, things Talon couldn’t even dare look at anymore—and finally closed around a long, thin iron rod. The tip was blackened from prior use.

He flinched.

Diansu turned to face him.

Talon half expected to see the wicked smile portrayed across his face, but Diansu's expression was stone cold.

He stepped forward until the end of the rod hovered just beneath Talon’s chin, gently pressing upward until Talon was forced to meet his eyes.

Then finally, Diansu spoke.

“Where is Will?”

Talon swallowed. He didn’t answer.

Diansu tilted his head, as if observing an anomaly. Then he asked again.

“What are you doing with Endust?”

Talon forced a smirk, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth where he’d bitten the inside of his cheek from sheer pressure. “Why don’t you guess?”

The rod struck like lightning.

CRACK!

A blinding flash of pain exploded across Talon’s ribs as the rod slammed into his side. He gasped, the chair groaning beneath him, and doubled over—but the ropes held him upright.

Diansu didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t change his tone. He just returned to standing straight.

“I’ll ask again.”

Talon coughed, spitting red. “Go to hell.”

Another strike. This time across the thigh. Bone screamed.

His leg twitched uncontrollably, eyes watering.

Diansu stepped closer, bringing the rod level with Talon’s temple now.

“Where. Is. Will?”

Talon breathed through his nose, the pain radiating from every nerve like fire.

“I’d rather die,” he hissed.

Diansu leaned forward, a smirk flickered across his face. He leaned in close and whispered directly into Talon's ear.

“Then I hope,” he whispered, “you’re a slow learner.”

He turned, placed the rod back onto the table, and picked up something else—heavier. A jagged drill, part-machinery, part-bone. Its edge shimmered with what looked like oil and blood

Talon’s eyes widened slightly.

He had to stall.

But Diansu only turned his head, cold voice low and final:

“You brought this on yourself, Talon. But if you’re looking for mercy...”

A beat.

“You’re under the wrong city.”

⌁ ⟡ ⌁

A long, bitter hour of silence broken only by Diansu’s questions—and Talon’s defiant refusal to answer any of them.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t beg.

Not once.

Blood stained his side. One eye bruised and blackened. But still—no answers.

Diansu stood across the room, staring at the wall more than Talon now, the fading sea lanterns casting long shadows through the dust. His hand hovered over the table again, this time trembling—not from weakness, but something else.

He didn’t want to use it.

Not unless he had to.

But this wasn’t working. And time was slipping.

Diansu turned.

His optics were dull. Expression unreadable.

“I didn’t want to do this,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself more than Talon. “But you're not giving me a choice.”

Talon didn’t speak, his jaw was on fire after getting bludgeoned in the head one too many times. His silence was an act of rebellion now—one of the only ones he had left—It reminded him deeply of Will and how he used to act before Mouthpiece put him in his place.

Diansu’s fingers hovered over the weapon. The saw blade.

It was old, made from repurposed mining tools—its teeth rusted, jagged, hungry. With a flick of his hand, the mechanism whirred to life.

Whirrrrrrr-KRRK!

The blade spun, grinding against its rusted bearings. Sparks spat off as Diansu tested the weight of it in his hands. The noise filled the room—a shrill, mechanical shrieking like some angry beast. It made Talon flinch despite himself.

Diansu turned toward him.

Not quickly. Not eagerly.

He approached as if dragging some part of himself with every step.

He placed the spinning saw against the metal plate of the chair’s headrest—mere inches from Talon’s temple.

“You always talked too much,” Diansu said flatly. “Now you say nothing.”

The blade dipped.

One slip forward and it would kiss Talon’s skull.

Still, Talon didn’t speak.

He closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to give Diansu the satisfaction.

Diansu stared.

One more second.

The saw twitched forward—just enough to let the edge scrape against Talon’s mask. A line of sparks danced off it. The smell of smoke and plastic filled the room.

Talon hissed through clenched teeth, but didn’t scream.

Not yet.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Diansu said quietly. “But if it saves them... I will.”

The blade inched closer.

The saw shrieked, its rusted edge spun faster and faster until the air itself seemed to vibrate. Diansu stepped forward. Talon's breath hitched. The noise was deafening. The smell of metal filled his nose.

Diansu pressed it into the mask, letting to saw through slowly. Talon could feel the pressure and the vibrating of his mask as the saw came closer to his forehead. He struggled at the ropes more than he did before. He was familiar with death, but knowing Diansu... He wouldn't let him die. Not yet.

You won't die, Talon, not until I say so. Mouthpiece's words echoed in his mind from the night before—At least Talon believed it had only been a few hours since his capture, but it could easily be more—Talon hadn't really thought about what he said, or what he meant by it.

The blade suddenly broke through the top of the mask, the sharp blades barely catching his skin before Diansu ripped it away. But just that amount of fear caused him to cry out: “Wait!” he rasped. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Diansu hovered the blade at Talon's neck, he raised one electronic eyebrow.

“I’ll show you where Will is,” Talon said, words spilling fast, desperate but calculating. “Alive. Unharmed. You get him back. All I want in return... is some Elysium.”

The blade slowed slightly.

Diansu didn’t reply right away. His shadow loomed over Talon, his face and body shadowed from the light above.

“And why,” Diansu said at last, voice cold, “would I trust you?”

Talon smirked through the blood on his lip. “Because you’re still trying to be the good one.”

The saw powered down.

A long silence passed. Talon could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. Part of him feared it was only a matter of time before Diansu saw through his foolish plan and would cut his head open.

But despite his previous thoughts, Diansu set the saw back on the table.

“You don’t move. Not until I’m sure,” he growled.

He pulled out a length of old cable, took a knife and cut his bonds from the chair before quickly binding Talon’s wrists behind him, tight and precise—military knots. He took Talon’s tools from the table, his satchel, even the armor panels he could strip without cutting into bone. Every precaution.

When he was finished, Diansu hauled Talon to his feet.

“You lead. I follow,” Diansu ordered, grabbing a flamethrower. “One wrong turn, and I'll turn you to ash.”

Talon gave a shallow nod. His body ached, ribs bruised, skin raw. But he still had his edge—his plan.

Because he wasn’t taking Diansu to see Will.

He was taking Diansu home.

And once they were inside, Talon would make sure the tables turned for good.

Chapter Text

Diansu pushed Talon up the stairs to the rail line. He stumbled and fell once again, his mask crunching against the hard stone, but not cracking this time. He tried to reach up to touch it, but his mind kept forgetting his current situation.

The Machine roughly pulled him up and threw him against the edge of the cart. He took another strand of cable and tied his wrist to the top side of the track

"Stay here while I get another cart," Diansu growled. "And if you try to escape, I will cut your arms off."

Talon nodded frantically, wanting to appear as scared as possible in hope Diansu will get cocky.

The computer rolled his eyes and stalked into one of the nearby houses. Of course, Talon didn't listen to his warnings. He slowly and carefully attempted to unknot the cables. Once he got Diansu inside one of the rooms, he could escape and hide in the labyrinth of new rooms and hallways.

"What are you doing?" Diansu appeared behind him.

Talon gasped. "I—Well, these cables weren't tight enough so I thought I'd try to tighten them more..." He trailed off after seeing Diansu's scowl. Clearly he wasn't in the mood to be joking around.

"Get in the cart."

Talon tried to step in the closet one but Diansu pushed him to the one at the the front.

"Nuh uh, You ride in front. I need to be able to watch you."

He grumbled in annoyance and reluctantly stepped into the front cart. Talon plopped down into the seat and waited for Diansu as he struggled to start the furnace cart.

"FUCK!" He yelled, kicking the cart with his shoe, accidentally damaging the wheel. Talon tried to suppress his laughter but failed miserably, bursting out into a fit of giggles. Diansu stared him dead in the eyes but he was too busy trying to breathe that Talon didn't notice.

SKRRRRRRRR-CHK-KLANG!

Talon flinched at the sound of the cart as it lurched forward, metal scraping against metal. The brake resisted for a moment—causing a horrible grating squeal like nails dragging across iron. He turned back to see Diansu pushing forward with all his strength.

Talon cursed under his breath, yanking the brake lever free. The moment it disengaged, the cart snapped forward, slamming into rhythm with the tracks.

Diansu ran with it, gripping the edge before finally jumping aboard.

The steel wheels clattered over the worn rail joints, echoing across the empty ocean bridge, followed by the cries of the seagulls as the minecart turned in the direction of Talon's home.

Talon looked back at Diansu, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile, but Diansu didn't return the gesture.

The silence echoed loud between them, the only interruption was the clatter of the wheels against the track.

How did this happen? Where have you been? I have been trying to contact you for the past—I don't even know how long!

Talon flinched at the rough sounds of Mouthpiece's voice. He wasn't expecting a visit from his friend.

"You okay?" Diansu asked.

"Yes," Talon replied, not expecting that kind of question from the man who was just torturing him less than an hour ago. He waited for more questions but they never came. Instead, Talon focused on the creature in his brain. He had to be careful, talking with Mouthpiece still forced him to reply outloud, and there was no stopping it.

This is a bad time. He whispered as quietly as he could to not arouse any suspicion. You know I can't control my words.

Explain yourself. How did that Machine capture you? And why are you leading him back here? First, where were you?

I was somewhere under Oceana

Why weren't you responding to me? I had been trying to speak with you.

I couldn't hear you. Honest.

Something that sounded like a groan or growl followed before Mouthpiece spoke again.

And the Machine?

Make sure Will stays in the work room. Diansu believes we are going to meet him. When they see each other, when Diansu lets his guard down, I want you to slip into his body. Take over his hard drive and use him as a vessel. He will be vital in the plan. Once he is out of the way and locked up, we can continue from there.

Are you sure that is a good idea?

Yes. I am sure. Follow the plan and we'll be in good shape.

Oh, right.

What? What's wrong?

I... you.... Amy Mialee perished not long ago. I tried to revive her, but she had been too long.

Can you be ready? I can see the edge of home.

No answer

Can you be ready?  Talon said more forcefully.

Just inform me when it's time.

The dark presence faded from his mind just as suddenly as it appeared. Talon sighed and looked back at Diansu. The machine was staring off into the distance, his eyes locked on something that had cause them to go wide. Possibly with fear. 

Talon turned in the direction he was looking, but nothing was there.

"We are getting close," He cleared his throat loud enough to be heard over the roaring wind.

Diansu snapped from his gaze and focused back on Talon. He reached forward and latched onto the metal brake rod with one hand while the other gripped the side.

"Brace yourself."

Talon barely had time to react as Diansu pulled the lever hard.

The wheels grinded to a stop, but the cart still managed to shriek a couple meters across the track until it grounded to a halt.

Talon let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as Diansu's iron grip pulled him out of the cart and towards the spruce wood staircase towards the currently board off main entrance.

"We can't go that way," Talon told him, slowly stepping down each step.

Diansu frowned. "And why not?"

"I boarded off a long time ago. Back when the debut failed."

He hated saying that word. Failure wasn't an option anymore.

"Where did you leave from? Where's another entrance?"

He gestured to the nearby island. "Staircase entrance there. It will take you as close as you can get to Will."

His grip tightened on Talon's wrists when he spoke his name. He quickly felt the blood flow cease, his hands going numb. He tried to wriggle free but that only made The Machine's grip tighter.

"Don't struggle," He whispered, pushing him up the stairs and over to the island.

⌁ ⟡ ⌁

"Over here," Talon said.

Diansu stalked over like a predator hunting it prey. He glanced at the lever on the stone building that had been built on the island. He checked it over a few times.

"This isn't a trap, is it?" He dared to ask.

Talon shook his head. "You really think I would trap you? Of course not. We are friends you and I."

Diansu grumbled and threw the switch.

The heavy groan of machinery rumbled beneath their feet. Pistons retrached, fake grass was pulled down and brought into the walls, unveiling a stone staircase that lead deep into the earth.

Talon smirked. "Impressive?"

"Stop doing that" Diansu growled his reply. "Stop acting like we are friends. I will tell you now that we are not."

Talon nodded. "Okay. Ready?"

Diansu took one look into the opened and pushed Talon inside.

The stairwell descended in tight, suffocating spirals, carved into the stone. Their footsteps echoed—Diansu’s—heavy and loud. Talon's—soft and slow.

The flamethrower in Diansu’s hand hummed low, the pilot light flickering with each step. His Elysium armor hissed and groaned with subtle pressure shifts. His eyes never left Talon.

“Keep moving,” Diansu growled.

Talon nodded silently, the elysium barrel of the weapon never far from his back. His wrists ached from the cable ropes digging into his skin. His mind spun faster than his legs could carry him.

Be ready.

"What?" Diansu questioned. Talon could feel the flam get closer to his back. He shook his head, hoping to signal he didn't say anything.

The base was just as he designed it—corridors twisting like a serpent’s belly, rooms layered atop rooms, designs meant to confuse even their own architect. Stone scraped beneath their boots. These were the new rooms; he hadn't had the time or need to install wood.

Far off—clang. clang. clang.

Metal struck metal.

Diansu stopped. “What was that?”

Talon tilted his head slightly. “Old machinery. Vents maybe. Place groans like this sometimes.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

A long silence passed. Then the flame inched closer. Talon flinched—but Diansu said nothing more. Just gestured forward. Talon made a mental note to find who caused the ruckus later.

They reached a wide, main hallway. Large vaulted ceilings loomed overhead, banners tattered and half-hanging like the shredded remains of a war long forgotten. The red-orange light from the flamethrower flickered against the walls, casting shadows that twitched with every step.

Finally, Talon stopped at an iron door set into the wall—thick, unmarked, and braced with old chains. A single key hung from a hook beside it.

“Open it,” Diansu ordered.

Talon turned and raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want me that close to the lock?”

Without hesitation, Diansu shoved him against the door, cutting the restraints with a cold blade. “Open it.”

Talon grunted, snatched the key, and worked it into the rusted mechanism. It clicked.

The door creaked open.

Inside, a pale light flickered from a hanging lantern. The room was much bigger than what could be seen in the lantern light. Talon had given the biggest room to house all the creations that—

"Will..." Diansu gaped.

And there he was, hunched over a cluttered workbench.

His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, exposing old bruises. His hands blackened with soot and oil. A crude half-finished weapon lay before him—something Elysium-based, layered in unfamiliar components. Shackles bound his ankle to the table’s leg, but his mind was clearly somewhere else—focused, exhausted.

Will turned slowly at the sound. His eyes met Diansu’s.

And for a long, frozen moment… nothing moved.

Talon remained still, letting the silence thicken. He could feel the tension rising—like storm pressure building before the lightning.

Diansu’s grip on the flamethrower loosened

Will’s voice cracked, eyes lighting up for the first time in a long while.

“Diansu?”

Diansu didn’t wait. The second he saw Will, he rushed forward.

“Will—” his voice tore through the modulator. “You’re alive—”

He dropped the flamethrower to his side, barely clinging onto it.

Will stumbled back in surprise, but Diansu caught him, pulling him into a tight and desperate embrace. His arms trembled. “I thought—God, I thought he killed you—”

“I tried,” Will rasped, barely audible.

Behind them, Talon stood perfectly still, face unreadable.

His eyes narrowed slightly, watching the two friends embrace like it had been years. It was surreal. He eyed Diansu, seeing Will's tears. The way they cried when they saw each other. Silently, Talon wished it was him. He wished that it was him being hugged like that.

He bit his tongue, scolding himself for thinking such things.

He felt the presence again, it drifted closer to him, wrapping around his body like a cobra.

Chills ran down his spine as he spoke the word:

Now.

Mouthpiece stirred, invisible ropes seemed to strangle him.

Slip in. Now!

Something heavy slipped past him with great speed.

The walls seemed to shift.

The grumbling of something large approaching.

A wet, organic dragging—like muscle dragging over stone.

SNAP!

The lantern overhead was severed at the chain. It seemed to hover in the air for a moment before it crashed into the floor below and shattered, the candle inside extinguished itself.

The room was swallowed in perfect black.

Will gasped. “What—?”

The flamethrower roared to life. A plume of flame surged out across the ceiling, hissing heat that painted everything in amber light.

And suddenly they saw them.

Diansu cried out.

Will screamed in fear.

Even Talon sucked in a breath.

The tendrils.

Dozens. No—hundreds. Thousands maybe.

All pressed to the walls, thin and fibrous like stretched nerves. Hugging the spruce wood like roots, pulsing with sick life. They had eyes. Not all open. Some blind, some weeping, some blinking.

The flame’s light cut as Diansu whirled around, pulling the trigger with a soft click, before the fuel could cast another arch of flames across the room. The larger tentacles shot around the space, covering all exit points, hiding chests and beds, wrapping around tools and armor pieces.

One flew past Talon's ear, but he didn't even flinch.

His eyes were fixated on the ceiling.

It was beautiful.

"What is this hellscape, Talon!" Diansu growled, letting another arch of flames lick the wood, only for it to be extinguished a moment later. "TALON! WHAT IS GOING ON!"

Talon tilted his head like a confused puppy. He forced his feet to move, but stopped before he was under the spot on the ceiling. It would surely crush him were it to fall.

"This is just the beginning Diansu," His own voice distorted like an old radio, but he knew what it meant. He'd been neglecting to take his portion of Endust, and it was causing him trouble. Part of him blamed it for why he couldn't escape Diansu sooner. He was slow. Weak, even.

"ENDUST IS OVER!" The Machine screamed, loud enough for his modulator to glitch out. "What is the point! Look around you! You are hurting everyone!"

"It is necessary for it all. Endust will work. I promise," He pleaded. "You just have to trust me."

"Trust you!?" Diansu spat, moving in front of Will. As if that would protect him. "You have betrayed my trust a million times over. You are past saving, and I would kill you right now—"

"But you know there is another answer," Talon whispered. "I see through you. You still believe I can be saved. That you will find another answer."

Diansu pointed the flamethrower at Talon. "But only if I follow you, I see that clear."

Talon gave a nod, his eyes stared at the beast, knowing it was ready.

Diansu reached for a sword. His fingers tightened around it before bringing it down on the chair around Will's ankle, freeing me. His friend gasped and nearly fell but Diansu pulled him to his side.

"Talon," The Machine huffed. "One last chance, let us leave."

"Or what?" Talon mocked. "You'll kill me?"

"That can be arranged," his smirked, stepping forward.

Talon grinned, waiting for Diansu to get close enough. The Machine didn't stop, taking step after step.

"What are you waiting for?" Diansu whispered, edging closer and closer.

Each step closer to the ultimate prize. Each step closer to—

"WAIT!" Will cried out, pushing away from Diansu. He stumbled backwards and fell hard on his side. He crawled away, eyes staring at something above.

Talon growled, realizing he saw the beast. He pointed and Diansu, voice cracking:

"NOW! GET HIM!"

It moved so quick, Talon didn't even get the chance to duck for cover.

It dropped the the floor, landing with a heavy crunch. The wood split, caving in below. Will scrambled away, his fear taking over and abandoning Diansu. The machine pulled the trigger, letting the flames engulf the surroundings.

Talon locked eyes with one of the many eyes on the beast.

Mouthpiece.

His spirit flickered, caught in the gaps of the shadows, bleeding through from somewhere else. Translucent yet imposing, woven in the colors of unstable Endust: pale blue, toxic green, bruised violet, sterile pink. The shades melted together like oil and blood.

His body was stretched and impossibly tall. Deformed in ways the eye refused to fully process. At the center of his chest, his ribs split open like jaws, breathing in and out. Whispers spilled from them, wordless and wet. Talon strained his ears, listening to the words.

....Isn't here, Winsweep....You are like the rest......I am machine.....See you in hell, RAT......I’m glad we danced...They are doomed...What is my name....

Each one sounded familiar—yet distant—all at once.

He focused back on Mouthpiece, letting the eyes—so many of them—watch from across his limbs, head, shoulders, chest. They blinked in slow, asynchronous rhythm. Some bloodshot. Some leaking something black and gold.

Another plume of flame forced Talon back into reality. Each one licked Mouthpiece, but never seemed to burn. It never stopped, inching closer and closer, ready to devour.

"GET BACK!" The Machine cried, switching to his sword when the flamethrower ran out of fuel. He slashed in the darkness, Talon wished he could see this fight with his own eyes.

A tentacle grabbed Diansu, twisting around his feet and pulling him up to Mouthpiece's jaws. A sickly laugh echoed from its lips. A yellow glow shinned from between its sharp teeth.

Its head tilted back, jaws opening wide. It brought Diansu closer.

"Diansu!"

There. On top of the workbench table, stood Will. He held a metal tube on his right shoulder. A scope sat on top of it. Will aimed it directly at Mouthpiece.

Talon gasped, stumbling forward to reach Will in time. But it was too late.

He had barely covered a few feet when the trigger was pulled.

A spark ignited.

Something fired from the barrel.

Will was thrown off his feet.

Talon ducked to avoid getting struck.

YOU IDIOT! Mouthpiece screamed in his head.

BOOM!

Black sludge exploded across the room, coating the floors and ceilings and Talon in it. Diansu kicked away from the tentacles grip, he fell to teh floor and broke out into a sprint for the door. Talon realized he wouldn't go back for Will.

Another rocket exploded from the barrel and forced itself deep into Mouthpiece skull.

The spirit's head shattered. Tar and Endust going in all directions. The body of the beast froze like a statue as a golden goo leaked from where its head was.

Mouthpiece.... No.....

Talon's vision blurred.

Don't stop now and get him before he gets to the portal! Mouthpiece screamed in his skull to the point it felt like it might just explode. He just ran past your room—on your way to the portal by the dining hall!

Talon didn't wait another second. He pushed off the ground and grabbed Diansu's fallen sword before taking off running.

His breath strained.

His feet thudded across the wooden floors.

His muscles screamed for mercy.

But Talon didn't slow.

Turn right.

Talon followed his instructions, turning through the labyrinth of tunnels and hallways.

He could've done just fine on his own, but maybe his own panic would have caused him to make a wrong turn, and then it would be over.

Dining hall on your left.

Talon almost missed the entrance. He darted through the double doors and down the stretch of hallway.

He burst through the old doorway, catching sight of Diansu disappearing down a new hallway that was built not long ago. It lead to the portal room. Talon looked up at Mouthpiece. His friend was still alive.

He darted after Diansu, yelling for him. he didn't know where this hallway led, it was built after the Endust Debut.

"Where are you going Diansu!"

"Away from you!"

"You'll never escape like this," He rasped. "You're just running in circles!"

Diansu didn't stop, he turned down the hallway Talon hoped he would miss.

Talon went after him, turning the corner to seem him enter the Nether Portal.

"IF YOU GO THROUGH THAT PORTAL," Talon screamed. "YOU CAN SAY GOODBYE TO EVERYONE YOU HOLD DEAR!"

But it was too late.

He was gone.

Chapter Text

What are you doing with that? Mouthpiece groaned.

Talon dragged the hammer behind him. A massive thing—iron-forged with Elysium spikes bolted into it. Its weight gouged into the stone floor, shrieking as it scraped. The occasional spark flew in its wake, like dying fireflies.

Diansu made his choice, he thought. Now I fulfill the promise.

He reached the dungeon doors.

With one brutal kick, he sent them slamming open, iron banging off stone with a thunderous clang that made the torches tremble in their mounts.

The prisoners rushed to their bars the moment they saw him—eyes wide, breath held.

This wasn’t the usual routine. There’d be no monologue. No tools. No drawn-out torment.

This was different.

And they all knew it.

Talon ripped the keys from the wall. He walked.

Winsweep reached through the bars, fingers straining. “Talon—Talon, don’t do this. Don’t touch him. Don’t—”

Talon didn’t respond. The keys jangled as he stopped at a particular cell.

Noxintrus.

He scrambled back against the far wall, shaking, half-covered in shadow. “I didn’t do anything this time! I swear—I swear, please!”

Talon unlocked the cell.

The door creaked open.

He stopped just before Nox. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“You didn’t, Noxintrus.”

He leaned in slightly, shadows cutting hard across his jaw, his expression unreadable behind the cracked, half-broken mask.

“But you can thank Diansu.”

“Talon, STOP!” Winsweep’s voice cracked. He rattled the bars, shouting. “Don’t do this! He’s just a kid!”

“Talon, please…” Eight’s voice was quieter. “You don’t have to—”

The hammer raised.

Talon’s hands trembled, but not from hesitation—from the weight of what he was about to do. Or perhaps from the knowledge that he no longer cared.

“I told him,” Talon whispered. “I told him if he left, I’d do this. This is his consequence.”

A breath.

Then the hammer dropped.

The first strike landed with a sickening crack.

Nox screamed. The sound wasn’t human.

The second strike cut him off.

CLANG!

CRACK!

The hammer rose and fell again. And again.

From his cell, Winsweep was slamming the bars, screaming, crying, begging for it to stop.

Eight had gone pale, his hands trembling at his sides.

Moriya covered his ears to stop the noise, praying for it to be over.

“Talon, STOP—TALON PLEASE—”

THUD!

CRACK!

THUD!

Talon didn’t look down. His eyes stayed locked ahead, blank and distant.

He didn't shout.

He didn’t grunt.

He didn’t cry.

He just kept swinging.

Until there was nothing left to strike.

The hammer dropped to the ground with a clang, the silence that followed it even louder than the blows.

Winsweep fell to his knees, sobbing.

Eight just stared. Speechless.

Moriya cried quietly from his cell.

Talon turned, opening the cell door; dragging the hammer behind him.

Blood smeared behind him in fractured arcs.

He passed the other cells, not even glancing at their occupants.

Not a word.

Not a flicker of regret. He threw open the heavy iron doors and walked out.

⌁ ⟡ ⌁

Asai pressed himself against the cold stone, his breath slow and silent.

The corridor ahead was still.

Too still.

No guards.

No monsters.

Not even Talon seemed to be around.

Just silence and the faint hum of something beneath the surface, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

“Odd,” he murmured, barely a whisper.

He scanned the hallway again—seventh time, maybe more. It didn’t matter. Any mistake here could be his last.

He slipped across the intersection like a shadow, boots silent on the wood, one of the boards creaked beneath his weight, but he didn't slow. Instead, his is pace quickened—until the far wall stopped him.

He exhaled slowly, watching for movement.

Three paths now lay before him—left, right, and behind. Endless, winding corridors that seemed to shift just outside his vision. One of them would lead him to the truth.

But the truth was a shapeless thing in this place.

His intel only hinted at a direction. Disappearances. Tremors. Whispers of... something.

Not just Endust. Not just Talon.

Something worse. Something that shouldn't be. They were vague, as if even they were afraid to go near it.

Asai’s lips curled in a grimace. Diansu had warned him—through a message that felt too human to come from him. A request for help, laced with urgency. That alone said everything.

Doctor4t wouldn't go this far. Luxintrus didn’t have the spine. Blake… maybe, but not like this. Not with this kind of precision. This wasn’t chaos.

It was the work of something much more powerful. And Talon was not that. At least, not if he was alone.

Rrrk–skksskk—

Asai froze.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was close.

A horrible, ear numbing scraping.

It echoed down the corridor like claws on tile. Like something that didn’t need to rush—because it already knew where you were.

Without thinking, Asai turned to the wall. Fingers rushing over its smooth surface, feeling for something. And when he found it, he leapt.

Fingers dug into wood, muscles straining as he pulled himself up. One foot scrambled onto a statue's shoulder; the other dangled freely. He reached for the rafter above, heart hammering in his ears louder than the scrape below.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

He stilled.

Asai didn't blink, nor did he breathe. And just before he thought about doing so, Talon appeared.

He emerged from the corridor like a phantom, trailing something behind him.

Asai watched from above, trying to process what he was seeing.

The cracked mask.

Blood-caked clothes

A hunched gait.

And in his grasp—a hammer, massive and worn, its head trailing behind him like a corpse tied to a leash.

It scraped across the wood—a terrible screech that dug into Asai’s spine, grinding down into his bones. He couldn't stop himself as his body flinched.

Thankfully, Talon didn’t notice.

Whatever held his attention had nothing to do with the world around him anymore.

He turned the corner—toward the distant banging Asai had heard earlier.

And then he was gone.

The silence returned. Not peace. Not safety.

Just waiting.

Asai lingered for a moment. Part of him wanted to follow Talon to see where he was headed, but the other part of him told him it was too risky. He had a mission to do.

He brushed a hand across his sheathed blade, steadying his breath.

He adjusted his glasses straight, shrugged in his padded vest, and pushed his black and blue accented hair out of his eyes. Finally, he moved. He jumped down from his hiding spot, boots hitting the floor with a creak. Then, he slid deeper into the base, deeper into something he no longer understood.

He snaked through the endless corridors. It was like a maze. All unnatural, each hallway more suffocating than the last. Some rooms looked untouched, others torn apart. He passed gardens choked with dead vines and stone fountains dry and cracked. At one point, he even stumbled across what was once Eight’s old storage system.

He hesitated.

That was… before the Endust Debut. Before everything.

A memory stirred. Something about it being moved back to Eight’s home—but that felt like years ago now.

He kept moving.

Time warped here. His steps felt endless, drawn out like walking through a dream he couldn't wake from.

Then something changed.

A trail of black, leading from one of the corridors.

Asai crouched low next to the trail.

He dipped two fingers into the substance. It clung to his skin with unnatural weight.

The smell hit him like a punch.

Part petroleum, part rubber, and something that smelled like a rotting animal carcass.

He recoiled, coughing harshly.

“Ugh—god.”

He wiped the sludge off on his vest, grimacing as it smeared thick and black. Whatever it was, it was fresh. And it was leading somewhere.

Around the corner, the trail stopped at a half-locked iron door, crooked on its hinges. The lock barely held.

“Let’s see what we have here,” he muttered.

The metal groaned as he slid the lock free and pulled the door open.

Darkness poured out to greet him.

The only light came from a soft, rhythmic flash of red on the other side of the room. Like the blinking of a forgotten warning.

He stepped inside cautiously, drawing a dagger from his belt.

The floor beneath him squelched, slick with something he didn’t want to know. Every footstep stuck for a moment before he could pry it free, like the room itself didn’t want him there.

He could feel the floor under boots. It was strange. Like it had holes, or cracks in it.

Suddenly he dropped—only a few feet—but his knees slammed hard into the lower level, pain jolting up through his thighs.

“Shit—!”

He barely had time to catch his breath before a sharp mechanical whine cut through the silence.

A red dot bloomed on his chest.

“Who are you?” a hoarse voice rasped from the shadows. “Don’t come any closer.”

The voice was familiar, but cracked and dry. Like it the person hadn't had anything to drink in days.

Asai didn’t answer. He stayed perfectly still.

“I said—who are you?”

“Who are you?” Asai countered, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper

There was a pause. Then something passed through the blinking light.

They stepped forward slowly, as if limping.

Asai was hit with a bright beam of light. He grunted and shielded his eyes.

“Asai…?”

He lowered his hands as the light moved away. Asai saw the man in front of him.

Will BL.

His face was gaunt. Grease and dried blood streaked his clothes. His eyes were sunken, rimmed with fatigue—but they widened when he finally got a good look at Asai.

Asai stood. “You’re alive.”

“Barely,” Will muttered, lowering the weapon. “I thought you were one of them.”

"One of who?" he questioned, but Will didn't give an answer back, he just stared.

“Asai,” Will said again, this time with something approaching hope. “Diansu was here. He got out. But Talon—Talon’s still here. He’s gone to kill someone. I—I don't know who. I heard him yelling about it to Diansu when he fled.”

Asai’s eyes narrowed.

“Where is it?”

Will’s shoulders tensed at the word.

“Mouthpiece?”

Asai nodded.

Will looked toward the north wall. “Dining hall. That’s where it lives. You don’t want to go there. Trust me. I have seen what it is,” he gulped. "It is not what you are expecting."

“I have to,” Asai replied.

He turned back to Will and put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you know where the portals are?”

Will nodded slowly.

“Good. Run. Get out of here. Head for it. Don’t stop for anything.”

Will hesitated, his eyes lingering on the hallway door. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Asai said, already turning to go. “Just… don’t let this be for nothing.”

Will grabbed Asai's arm as he turned to leave.

"Please, it's not worth it."

Asai could hear the fear in his voice. He was practically begging him not to, which was not something he imagined hearing from his mouth. What ever was beyond the doors to that room... He gritted his teeth, squinting his eyes shut. He owned nothing to anyone. He didn't have to be here. He didn't have to risk his life for anyone.

"Will," Asai pulled away. "Just go." He said it firmly, hoping he would actually listen.

Will stared at him for a moment. Then he began to move. He stumbled for the door, but turned back at the last moment.

"Thank you,"

"For what?"

Will hesitated. 

"Good luck."

And he was gone.

Asai watched the empty door frame from a moment, then forced his way out. Down the hall towards his possible doom.

Chapter Text

Asai breathed heavy, his boots thudding against the ground with a pace that hurt his feet. He followed Will's guidance and made his way through the labyrinth of hallways, each one getting smaller and more narrow with each turn.

He was moving so fast, he nearly missed the hallway.

His boots skidded to a halt and faced the long stretch.

It seemed like the only normal place in the base. The walls were clean, the doors were wood instead of the iron ones. But the whispers were as loud as ever.

Each one a voice he recognized, but at the same time... He took out the rubber ear plugs he had made and shoved them into his ears, blocking the noise. And hopefully the call of whatever was on the other side of that door.

He hesitantly stepped forward.

Each footfall.

Each creak of the floorboards.

Each breath that came more shaky than the last.

Each movement towards something he had been fearing this whole time.

His hand rested on the handle. Part of him wishing he had just stayed home. A nice cup of tea and a good book would settle his nerves right about now. But he was far from home. He was risking his life for people who might not even know what could happen.

Asai took one more breath, turning the handle and stepping inside.

The moment the doors opened, Asai was greeted with a pungent and overwhelming smell of death. He tried to keep it in, but his eyes watered and his lungs burned. he coughed and doubled over against the door frame.

The damp, cloying heat curled out from the cracks, curling around his neck like a noose.

After taking another few moments to collect himself, he pushed forward, one step at a time. The old hinges croaked behind him as the doors eased shut with a hollow thunk.

Inside, the grand hall was a cathedral of decay and madness.

The chandeliers no longer glowed. Instead, the few surviving lanterns overhead flickered dimly behind crusted film, casting jagged shadows across long table now overtaken by the remains of rotting Endust experiments—vats broken and overturned, humanoid-like limbs petrified mid-reach, their features stretched and burned, mouths frozen in silent screams.

Where Talon once threw banquets and called his allies "brothers", now only the smell of death remained. A fetid fusion of rot, sulfur, metal, and tar, strong enough to sting Asai’s eyes.

He wrapped his coat sleeve around his mouth.

His boots squelched softly as he crossed the sticky floor, inching toward the dark heart of the hall.

Then he saw it.

The body.

Mouthpiece.

It hung from the center of the ceiling, chains wrapped around its torso and hooked through the ribs like an exhibit. The limbs were severed. Hooks pushed through shoulders. The inky black flesh looked stitched together from a dozen dead things, seared in places and missing entirely in others. Tentacles curled along its back and into the walls, like diseased wings that refused to stop growing.

Its torso had split open into a vertical maw—ribs forced outward, almost mimicking jagged teeth. Within that cavity, Asai swore he saw something moving.

And yet, it slept.

Its many eyes—some closed, others milky and glassy—remained still, twitching only faintly under the pale light.

The worst part was the sound.

A slow, rhythmic drip from the ceiling above, falling into the black puddles around the altar.

Tap... tap... tap...

Each drop hit like the tick of a clock, pulling Asai deeper into a trance he didn’t want.

He finally moved again, breath shallow. His steps took him toward the iron spiral stairwell hugging the wall, leading to the upper platform—the only vantage point where he could strike.

Asai climbed, gripping the rail tightly. He was silent, slowly ascending, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. God knows what could happen if the beast woke too soon.

His eyes never left the monster.

Once on the second floor, he crouched low, hidden among shadows. Below, the thing breathed—barely audible, like a boiler pushed just past its limit. Steam rose from its throat, curling upward into the rafters.

This was it.

It all came down to this moment.

The blade in Asai’s hand hummed with quiet hunger—its edge pulsing with that unnatural enchantment, designed for monsters. Things not meant to live. Things not meant to return.

But Asai hadn’t come to be a hero.

He wasn’t like the others.

He wasn’t a savior.

He wasn’t a warrior.

He wasn't even meant to be here.

And yet, when the letter came—slipped under his door in the dead of night, sealed with a half-burned crest and written in a desperate, trembling hand—he knew there was no turning away. The handwriting was unmistakable.

Diansu.

Of all people, it was Diansu who asked for help. The machine who never trusted anyone besides his own. The one who always had an answer. Always had a plan.

But the letter had no plan.

Only a plea. One sentence that replayed in Asai’s mind like a prayer:

"It is not human. It is not just Talon."

That was the start.

Then came the whispers.

Then the disappearances.

Then the blood.

Asai had followed the clues. Everything pointed back to Talon. Talon, the one who had disappeared after the Endust Debut.

And now?

He had become something else entirely.

And still… Asai hesitated.

It didn’t belong in this world.

And neither did Talon’s vision.

Asai looked down at the sword again. It flickered—green, violet, then black. It wasn’t just detecting evil. It was warning him. A shudder passed through the metal beneath him. He blinked. A tentacle coiled slowly across the railing just below.

He didn’t move.

He thought of Will. Hopefully he had made it out.

He thought of Eight. Of Winsweep. Of Nox.

Of all the people who had vanished without so much as a trace—quiet victims in Talon’s pursuit of a plan no one could understand. What was the endgame? To remake the world in his image? To strip memory and rewrite loyalty? Was that worth all this blood?

Asai closed his eyes for a single heartbeat, then opened them again.

The tendril neared.

His grip tightened around the hilt.

One breath...

Two...

He leapt.

Boots hit muscle, slick and hot to the touch. The surface pulsed beneath him like a heart out of rhythm.

Mouthpiece jolted.

All at once, every eye snapped open.

A single, unholy shriek ripped from its skull—a sound made not by lungs but by pure rage and fear. The hooks creaked violently as its body jerked. Chains rattled. The lights overhead blew out, one by one. Even the hearth fire seemed to dim.

But Asai held on.

The tentacle flung itself upward, slamming into a pillar and nearly throwing him off. The table below exploded as one of the appendages slammed into it, hurling ruined food and stone carvings across the hall.

He climbed, hand over hand, boots slipping against flesh.

The monster thrashed, trying to tear him off, but he moved too fast—driven by fury, not fear.

The blade in his hand pulsed again, responding to the proximity of Mouthpiece’s corrupted heart.

With a final lurch, Asai leapt from the shoulder of the beast—reaching the exposed cavity where its ribs split wide.

The thing screamed again—higher this time, more frantic. Tendrils reared back, preparing to strike him down.

But he was already there.

Dangling from a hook, sword poised above the thrashing skull. Its dozens of eyes locked onto him. Mouth open wide as if screaming for help.

Asai stared down, expression cold. “See you in hell, devil.”

The blade plunged down.

⌁ ⟡ ⌁

Talon burst into the dining hall. His ears still in pain from the initial screech that went out around the base, half of it getting directed straight into his brain. Another downside of the connection with Mouthpiece. He felt everything his ally was feeling.

He skidded to a halt—eyes wide.

The sword was already buried.

Mouthpiece's massive form reeled in place, tentacles writhing violently, another guttural shriek ripping through the air like a siren inside Talon's skull. The blade shimmered with cursed light, sliding deeper through the skull of his friend.

Asai stood on the beast’s shoulder, gripping the embedded weapon with both hands, his body shaking under the force of the resistance.

Talon didn’t think.

His hand shot out to the statue beside the door—the one carved like a knight, holding a ceremonial spear of obsidian and warped wood. A gift from Eight a long time ago.

He pulled at the weapon, but it was lodged in its hands.

Talon gritted his teeth, placing one foot on the statue and with all his might he wrenched it free.

The stone hands broke with the spear so Talon had to bash it on the ground until all the pieces were off. He huffed.

He didn’t stop to aim.

He didn’t stop to breathe.

With a roar—not of anger, but something more broken, more lost—he hurled it.

It soared like an arrow, with a force that did not come from normal human strength. No, Talon could feel the shadow behind him. The whispers. The creature giving him strength.

Thwump.

It struck Asai in the shoulder with a sickening, meaty crack. His scream echoed across the chamber as he staggered—just in time for a tentacle to slam into him like a falling tree.

CRACK.

Asai’s body flew into a nearby pillar, smashing through the rotted wood, hitting the wall behind, then crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Talon stalked toward him.

The scent of blood filled his nose. He grabbed the shaft of the spear still embedded in Asai’s shoulder and, with a grunt, ripped it out.

Asai coughed blood, groaning.

Talon raised the weapon again, shaking, knuckles white around the shaft.

He placed the tip just above Asai’s sternum.

Finish him. Mouthpiece’s voice hissed in his head, oily and low. He tried to killed me. He'll ruin everything.

But Talon didn’t move.

He stared down at Asai, cut in multiple places. Bleeding. Barely moving.

And yet… even now…

“Do it,” Asai's eyes fluttered open. His voice rasped, eyes locked with his. “Coward.”

The word hit harder than any blade.

Talon’s hand trembled. His mask had cracked further, and with it, something inside him cracked too.

He looked around the room—the rotted feast, the mold in the shadows, the dying god of flesh he’d spent months working with. Feeding it. Helping It while It helped him.

And then back to Asai.

Back to the man who had come all this way—not for glory, but to stop him.

He saw it now.

He saw all of it.

Talon stumbled back, his heart picking up speed.

          Amy… gone.

                               Nox… killed by his own hands.

                                                                        Diansu? Gone, escaped, or worse.

                                                                                                                 And Mouthpiece… the thing he’d sold his sanity to. His soul.

“I…” he whispered.

Talon... Mouthpiece snarled in his mind, sharp and venomous. Kill him. NOW. Before it’s too late!

Talon looked down at Asai. Then back at the spear. To his hands. His hands which were soaked in blood. Blood of someone who used to tell jokes with him. Someone who was friendly with him.

It hit the floor with a dull clatter, rolling away.

He backed up, breathing hard, every inch of his body trembling.

“No,” he muttered. “No more.”

Mouthpiece screamed in his mind—a primal, static-laced roar—but Talon didn’t listen. He sank to his knees beside Asai, not to help him, but because his body couldn’t stand under the weight anymore.

He spoke, barely audible.

"There’s no machine that can fix that. No Endust formula. No perfect world." He gulped, staring at the dried blood on his clothes. "They’re gone. And I can’t bring them back.”

His voice cracked. The dining hall around him blurred as the first tears he’d shed in months finally fell, hot against his mask.

“I betrayed everyone. For what?” He turned to the creature above, writhing in its death throes. “For you?”

His hands dropped to his sides.

“I won’t.”

Talon sniffled, trying to hold it all back. But there was no use. The tears streamed like a broken faucet—no grace, no dignity.

He folded in on himself, curling beside the man he had nearly murdered. His chest heaved with shallow, uneven sobs. It felt like something inside had cracked open—and all the rot had finally come spilling out.

“I didn’t mean for any of this…” he choked. His voice was quiet, childlike. “I was fixing it. If I could just… just finish the plan…”

But there was no plan now.

Not one that mattered.

He looked to the ceiling.

A plea to someone. In hopes she might hear him.

"Please, Folly... Please let this mean something.”

Slowly, shakily, he stood.

He turned to the pulsing mass of Mouthpiece, still anchored to the ceiling like a grotesque chandelier, its body twitching with stolen energy.

…Take him to the dungeon.

There was a long pause.

Talon. Mouthpiece muttered. This is foolishness. He’ll rise against you. They all will. What more do you think he’ll do if you give him breath?

Talon didn’t answer at first. His breathing steadied.

He wiped his face on the back of his hand, then turned—eyes red, lips trembling, but gaze steady.

Give them food. Blankets. Somewhere to sleep that isn’t a cell floor. I want… I want the prisoners treated like people.

Silence. A low clicking noise echoed through the chamber—Mouthpiece grinding bone against bone.

You are not thinking clearly.

I am. For the first time in weeks.

Another beat of silence passed.

Then, Mouthpiece relented.

…Very well.

A pair of low, dragging limbs unspooled from the rafters, curling around Asai’s unconscious form with surprising care.

Talon watched him go, carried to where he would be treated rightfully

The silence that followed felt like standing at the bottom of a crater after the bomb had fallen

He looked around the dining hall one last time.

The ruined table.

The blood.

The empty chairs.

This place... it no longer felt like home.

Leave me to my thoughts. I need time to think this over.

Of course. Every leader should have time to think and decide.

There was a pause.

But one more thing...

And that is?

The final product will be ready in three days.

Talon's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't let that affect his voice.

Thank you. Good night.

He turned and walked out.

Chapter Text

Talon lay still, hands folded neatly across his stomach.

The room was quiet, save for the ticking of the clock in the far corner. A steady beat.

Each click echoed like a footstep approaching from down a long hallway.

Tick.

Talon stared at the ceiling, eyes glassy and wide.

Tick.

He hadn’t blinked in minutes.

Tick.

He had changed out of the blood-dried clothes. They were gone now—buried in the pile of clothes in the corner of his room. In their place, he wore a simple pair of gray pajamas, loose-fitting and soft against his bruised skin. He had scrubbed his hands raw, had stood under freezing water until his skin turned pale and numb.

But still…

The scent of blood lingered. Caught in the corners of his fingernails. Beneath the edges of his sleeves. In his nose.

It wouldn’t leave him.

He swallowed thickly and turned his head just enough to look at the wall beside the bed. The calendar was pinned there, crooked and crumpled. Each square was filled with black Xs, drawn in hurried, angry strokes. Day after day, week after week—crossed out, erased from meaning. All of it leading to this final line.

Three more empty boxes.

Three more days.

Talon turned his face back toward the ceiling. His lips parted.

“Just three more days,” he whispered.

His voice cracked. The words didn’t sound like his. They sounded borrowed—rehearsed, almost robotic. A mantra, not a hope.

He blinked for the first time in a while. His eyes stung.

“If it holds…” he murmured, voice shaking.

He trailed off. Even now, he couldn’t convince himself.

The Project. The Final Product. The great solution.

A total reset.

Everyone’s memories—wiped clean. The pain, the deaths, the betrayals—gone. Erased like chalk dust from an old slate.

Winsweep would laugh again. Eight would play his stupid songs on the stairs. Asai would never feel the spear tear through his shoulder.

And Talon… maybe he’d be someone different.

Someone better.

He exhaled.

“Just… three more days…”

Tick.

The clock struck midnight. A soft, mechanical click. A new day.

Talon pulled the thin blanket up over his shoulders, curling onto his side. He flinched slightly at the cold fabric brushing against a healing wound near his ribs. One of the ones Diansu had given him.

Everything ached.

The room smelled like dried iron and old paper. The floor was still stained near the doorway. He hadn’t had the strength to clean it.

And even here, in his own room, his sanctuary, it didn’t feel safe.

He lay in the dark, trembling.

“Please…” he whispered. Not to anyone in particular. Not to Mouthpiece. Not even to the gods.

Just to the ceiling.

To the silence.

To something.

“Just three more days…”

He said it again, quieter this time.

The covers muffled his words as he pressed his face into the pillow.

Again.

“Just three more days…”

Again.