Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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"Do you remember anything?"

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Sebastian rummages through the drawers of a cluttered desk, grumbling under his breath as his injured third arm deftly snatched a battered SPR-INT to tuck into a pouch on his serpentine tail.

Damn thing still stung, his regeneration was sluggish this week—definitely not the best time to be scavenging, but he'd rather get these supplies than picking them off Expendable corpses. Again.

"Kid, you find anything worth selling?" He called, voice rough but carrying that edge of familiarity he'd started to use with her.

. . .

No response.

He paused, claws still on the desk.

The silence from the side-room where he'd sent her to poke around in was too heavy. His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly as he listened.

. . .

Nothing?

The fins on the sides of his head flicked minutely.

Nothing. Not a shuffle, not a peep.

"Kid?" His tone sharpened, a low hiss creeping in. He slithered toward the doorway, his massive frame bending awkwardly to fit through the narrow passage, one claw gripping the frame for balance.

"What'd I tell you about keeping quiet on me? You know you're not—"

His words cut off as his gaze locked onto her, the words dying and tasting like bile.

She's frozen near the center of the room, dwarfed by the grim scene. In her arms, that sea bunny she's been carrying around with her squirms, letting out a soft chirp as it nuzzled her chin.

She doesn't react.

Because hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently in a crude noose of tangled cables, was a body.

The Urbanshade Logo stood out starkly on the tattered uniform, a vulgar brand against the lifeless form. And the rest is a sight that Sebastian knows is going to be seared into her head for the rest of her life.

He's seen plenty of bodies down here, some by his own hand—Urbanshade's experiments and Expendables don't exactly have a long shelf life, but this is different.

"Kid," he says, voice low but firm, trying to cut through the fog of her shock. His third arm twitches, wanting to reach out, but he hesitates. He's not exactly the comforting type. Never was. "Hey. Look at me."

The noose creaks, the sound slicing through the silence.

Sebastian slithers closer, casting a shadow over her as his claws flex.

"Kid," he tries again, softer this time, though his gravelly tone still carries an edge. "You don't need to keep looking at it, look at— Look. At. Me."

Her head twitches slightly, like she's hearing him but can't quite pull herself out of the moment.

Sebastian shifts so he's in front of her, lowering himself to her level as much as he can, his serpentine body coiling slightly to block her view of the body. His glowing eyes meet hers, sharp but not unkind.

"Don't go comatose on me now."

The sea bunny wriggles free, plopping onto the floor with a soft squish. It scuttles towards Sebastian, nudging his tail. He ignores it.

"Hey, talk to me. Say something."

Her lips part, but no sound comes out at first. Her eyes are still wide, glassy, reflecting the faint light of his eyes. Finally, her voice comes, small and shaky.

"Am I gonna end up like that?"

. . .

Sebastian deflated a little. Why'd she have to go on and ask him something like that?

For a second, he's tempted to snap something sharp to shake her out of it.

But she's twelve, and those glassy eyes are boring into him like he's supposed to have all the answers.

"What? Like that?" he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder and towards the body without looking at it. His voice is rough, carrying that usual bite, but he keeps it steady, almost casual. "Kid, you'd sooner die from anything else than putting cables around your neck."

. . .

Well, that didn't help if the way her eyes unfocus more is anything to go by.

He sighs, and pretends not to see the way her hand holds onto one of his fingers.

"Besides, you've got me babysitting you, don't you? I don't haul around dead weight."

He shoots the sea bunny a glare when it nudges his scales again, flicking it gently away with the tip of his tail. "At least, not entirely," he mutters under his breath, then turns back to the girl.

"Look," he says slowly, leaning in just enough that his voice doesn't have to carry far. "People come down here, they make dumb choices, and they don't go back up. That's the deal. But you?" He jabs a claw in her direction, not quite pointing but close enough to make a point.

"You're still kicking. Means you're smarter..." He pauses before correcting himself because she was not smart at all. "...luckier than most of the idiots Urbanshade sends down here. Keep it that way, and you won't be decorating the ceiling anytime soon."

Her eyes squint at him with a frown, like his insult didn't go unnoticed. But that's good. Means she's here.

His eyes flick to the body again, just for a second, and his lip curls slightly. "You wouldn't make a prettier sight up there anyway." He flashes a quick, toothy grin, but it's more sardonic than reassuring.

He knows he's not good at this. Comforting, god forbid coddling, whatever you call it. But he's trying to pull her back without lying to her face.

The Hadal Blacksite isn't a playground, and he knows that she's not dumb enough to believe it is.

Her hands tremble, but she nods, just barely. The sea bunny chirps again, crawling back towards her while on his tail. Sebastian exhales through his nose, a low rumble in his chest.

"C'mon," he says, straightening up a bit, his third arm gesturing toward the door. "Grab your little friend. We're going back." His third arm reaches down, scooping up the sea bunny and holding it out to her. "Don't go quiet on me again, alright?" His voice is rough, strained. "Go wait outside."

As she takes the sea bunny and heads out, he slithers back to the body, keeping her in his peripheral vision before he can't see her anymore. His eyes scan the body over briefly.

He's half-tempted to cut it down, but there's no point. Not like anyone's coming to claim it.

Instead, he reaches for the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, his claws snatching it up with a practiced flick. He pressed the button, static crackling to life as he brings it to his mouth.

"Painter," he growls, voice low and edged with venom he can't completely hide. "You wanna explain why I'm finding surprises in a side-room? Kid just stumbled on an Expendable playing chandelier—didn't think to give me a heads-up?"

Painter's voice cuts through, high-pitched and flustered, with that glitchy edge that always makes it sound like he's one bad connection away from frying himself.

"Hey—uh, whoa, hold on, Sebastian! What're you even talking about?" The AI's tone is defensive, almost whiny. "I can't see everything down here, you know! Some rooms don't have cameras, and NAVI's got me locked out of half the systems anyway!"

Sebastian exhales sharply, the sound halfway between a hiss and a groan, his tail twitching in irritation.

"You at least working on something useful?" He mutters, voice dripping with annoyance as he leans back, one claw scratching at the scales along his neck.

"Of course! I, uh... I made a painting if you wanna see it later?"

Sebastian's eyes roll so hard they might as well pop out of his skull. A painting? Really?

That's so... Painter.

He pinches where the bridge of his nose would be with a claw, the walkie crackling faintly as Painter's voice chirps through, oblivious to the sheer absurdity of the timing.

"Sebastian?"

"A painting," Sebastian growls, voice resigned with exasperation. "Real useful, Picasso." He mutters into the walkie, his voice thick with sarcasm but tinged with a begrudging fondness he can't shake. "What's- What'd you draw this time? Another landscape? Or you just doodling me looking pissed off again?"

Painter's voice crackles back, indignant but with that familiar spark of enthusiasm. "Hey, how'd you know!"

He turns the walkie off after that, because his eyes really might roll out of his head.

Chapter Text

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"Your deaths, your accidents, your... what? What am I not remembering, kid?"

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Sebastian's ear-like fins twitched at the sound of scraping metal from the nearby vent. Another EXR-P—some poor soul crawling through the facility's ducts, likely fleeing from the horrors lurking in the shadows.

Or some bullshit like that.

He ignored it, his focus going back on the blacklight in his hand, turning it over to inspect the crack in its lens. He could still sell it—the desperate were prone to making poor decisions, after all.

His eyes scanned the shelves: a couple of battered medkits—one of which was tossed and flipped upside down on the floor near the wall in a disgruntled rage—a handful of batteries, a single lantern with a handle that creaked if swung around, and a rare necrobloxicon he'd scavenged from a flooded storage closet.

Then came a chirp.

A soft, almost melodic trill, like the call of some deep-sea creature. His lips curled into a scowl, revealing sharp, uneven teeth.

He knew that sound.

Sea bunnies. Annoying little critters, harmless but clingy, and he remembers countless of personnel that used them as... therapy pets back when he was still an MR-P.

He'd actually had one, before.

Until—

"Sebastian!"

The voice was unmistakable—high-pitched, stubborn, and far too cheerful for this godforsaken place.

Fucking kid.

The one he'd patched up not even half an hour ago after her run-in with a Wall Dweller. He'd used one of his medkits to make her shut up and not cry, a warning to stop almost dying, and a not-so-subtle shove towards the vent with a growled, "Don't come back unless you've got something valuable." And yet, here she comes with her shoes scuffing against the vent's metal interior as she crawled closer.

"I told you to get lost," Sebastian muttered, his voice a low, gravelly hiss. He didn't turn around, keeping his back to the vent as he shoved the blacklight onto his bench with more force than necessary.

The kid was a walking disaster—reckless, stupid, and entirely too comfortable around him for someone who'd seen what he looked like.

For all that he was; a towering monster with a notoriously low tolerance for error—she treated like he was some... some trusted responsible adult, and it grated on his nerves.

Another chirp, louder this time, echoed through the room. Sebastian's fins drooped slightly, a flicker of curiousity betraying his annoyance.

Sea bunnies didn't usually wander from their burrows. Unless some bumbling personnel idiot needed their stupid cuddle time to distract themselves from being in the Blacksite.

The vent grate clattered as it was pushed aside, and the kid emerged, sliding onto the concrete floor with a soft thud.

Her shoes pattered against the concrete as she scrambled to her feet, undeterred by the grimy surroundings that was his shop. "Sebastian!" she called again, her voice bright with excitement.

He can hear her dart closer, probably almost tripping on his tail before she actually vaults over it. Sebastian grunts at the touch and grits his teeth because the fucking nerve of this kid.

"Hey," she said, tugging at the end of his coat now. Another chirp followed, this one so close it sent a faint vibration through the air. Whatever she'd brought with her was probably an abomination just like herself.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder before he finally turned, swatting her insistent hands away harshly with a claw and glare before looking her over as he twisted his body to face her. His eyes narrowed, the light from his angler's esca casting harsh shadows across the cramped room.

She was soaked from head to toe, her Urbanshade-issued jumpsuit clinging to her, and her hair was a mess of damp strands plastered to her face.

On her head, nestled on top, was a wriggling sea bunny. The creature chirped again, it's head tilting up at Sebastian as if it, too, was trying to get his attention.

"What," he growled, his voice dripping with exasperation, "is that doing here?" He gestured a claw at the sea bunny, which let out another chirp and nuzzled closer to the kid's head. "And why are you back? I told you to keep moving. You're gonna get yourself killed, and I'm not wasting another medkit on you."

The kid grinned, though it wobbles a little at his tone. "I found it in one of the flooded rooms, and it kept following me." She reached a hand up to pat it's side before pointing at it, as if presenting a gift and not a nuisance. "Isn't it cute?"

"Cute?" Sebastian's eye twitches before the end of his tail flicked irritably, nearly knocking over a medstock crate. "It's a liability. You're a liability. You're lucky you didn't get eaten crawling through those rooms."

He leans down best he can, craning his neck just so he could glare at her, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Put that thing back where you found it and get out of my shop."

The kid doesn't budge. Instead, she tilts her head, her grin widening daringly. The look of someone that knows they're pushing his patience.

"Don't gotta be so mean." She shifted the sea bunny, pulling it off from clinging to her head to holding it in one arm and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small, waterlogged data drive. "I found this too. Bet it's worth something."

Sebastian's eyes flicked to the drive, his irritation warring with his greed. He straightened, crossing his main arms over his chest while the claws of his third arm flexed.

"Fine," he said, his voice grudging as he beckoned with his third arm impatiently. "Hand it over, and maybe I'll let you keep that stupid pet of yours in here for five minutes. But don't touch anything or I'm throwing it—and you—back into the vents."

The kid's eyes lit up and Sebastian dramatically stifles the urge to vomit at the hopefulness in them. She thrusts the data drive towards him. "Deal! But you gotta admit, it's kinda cute." The sea bunny chirped again, as if agreeing with her.

It's greed sickens him. Notwithstanding his own.

Sebastian snatches the drive, his claws scrapping against the plastic casing as he turned it over to inspect it—don't look at him like that. He made greed look good.

"Don't push your luck, kid," he muttered, but his fins twitched again, and the corner of his lip had turned up.

He turned back to his workbench, tossing the drive onto it besides a laptop with a metallic clunk. "Five minutes. Then you're gone. And keep that thing away from my stuff."

As the kid plopped down on the floor, cooing at the sea bunny, Sebastian slumped slightly at his workbench, watching her from his spot.

The Blacksite was no place for kids, let alone for soft-hearted ones who picked up strays like candy and hadn't even developed their frontal lobe yet. Though that could go for just about any of the canon fodder Urbanshade throws down here to see what sticks.

Maybe she'd survive longer than he thought.

When he watches the way that sea bunny she'd brought in launch itself up right into her face, though, he immediately disregards his previous thought.

Maybe she'll die down here from something as simple as tripping over her own feet.

Sounds just about right, he thinks grimly.

Chapter Text

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"Us. You're forgetting us."
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The room was quiet, save for the faint hiss of fizz escaping a can.

Sebastian lounged in his corner, coils of his tail piled in lazy loops across the concrete, scales glinting faintly in his angler's pale glow.

His coat hung open, chest rising and falling slow as he tipped a dented bloxy cola can back to his mouth.

The carbonation had long since flattened under the bite of something sharper.

He almost pulls out his flask before thinking better of it.

Better not.

The kid sat perched on the loop of his tail, arms draped over her knees, watching him. She had that look again—the one that made his fins twitch with irritation.

Wide-eyed curiosity. Like he was some exhibit, not something that would happily snap a person in half if he felt like it.

Her nose wrinkled. "Are you drinking poison?"

Sebastian lowered the can, staring at her over the rim with baleful, half-lidded eyes. Then, deliberately slow, he swirled it so the liquid inside sloshed heavy and dark.

"Hrm...? This?" His lips curled back, flashing jagged teeth in something between a sneer and a grin. "This is the good shit."

The girl tilted her head. "What's that mean?"

He slithered, coils shifting with a faint rasp against the floor as he adjusted his posture, laying his upper body back against the wall with a lazy stretch of his arms. His tail flicked, jostling her slightly before curling loosely again.

"It means you're not touching it," he said flatly, and punctuated the words with another long pull from the can.

Her gaze lingered, suspicious, and she leans forward with a sniff. "...so it's alcohol?"

Sebastian wonders how she'd know what alcohol smells like.

He snorted through his nose. "Sharp little parasite, aren't you." He licked the corner of his mouth, catching a stray drop before wiping it off with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Not that watered-down piss, either. Stuff that burns going down—wakes you up."

She doesn't look like she really understands. Which, good. She shouldn't.

Doesn't stop her from frowning, though.

"Thought that'd make you sloppy. You always say sloppy people get killed down here."

He chuckled at that, gravelly, but looser than the usual tightness that's in his tone. "Maybe. But when you're stuck down here like this, you learn a little luxury keeps you sane." He gestured with his can, careless, like it wasn't precious in a place where scarcity ruled everything. "Besides. Sloppy for me still makes me sharper than the best of the fodder they throw down here."

She looked unimpressed. "Doesn't smell like it's worth it."

Sebastian tilted his head, fins twitching as he considered her for a long moment.

Then, he leans forward, sudden enough to make her tense, and sets the can down on the ground between them with a clunk.

"Go on," he said, voice low, challenging. "One sip. See if you're right."

Her eyes flicked between him and the can. She opened her mouth—closed it. Her stubbornness warred with the sharp edge of his grin.

Finally, she huffed and waved a dismissive hand. "...Pass. Bet it's gross, anyway."

Sebastian barked a laugh, sharp and unexpected, and reclaimed the can with a quick swipe of his arm to get it back in his claws. "Smart girl. For once."

The kid frowned, but her lips twitched like she was hiding a smile.

Sebastian tipped the can back again, throat working, and felt something other than the constant tension that's been eating at him.

His fins dropped slightly as the burn settled into his chest, and for just a moment, the room felt—quiet. Almost safe.

It terrified him greatly.
 
 
 
 
 
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He doesn't kick her out for a long while.

Mostly because he doesn't notice when the can slips from his claws. Or the way the kid shifts, small hands steadying themselves against his side before clambering higher and then pausing.

His head dipped lower with a tired exhale, and she risked more; curling against the fabric of his coat, where the faint, steady thrum of his breathing rattled through.

Sebastian stirred at that, his claws twitching. But instead of a slash, maybe a slurred snarl, his third arm shifted without thought, heavy and warm, draping across the top of her head roughly.

It's about as heavy as she expected it to be.

. . .

"You're nicer when you're drunk."

Distantly, he pretends not to hear that.

Chapter Text

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"Us? There was never an us."

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The scrape of metal on metal made Sebastian's fins twitch flat against his skull.

His third arm flexed and hovered near his shotgun holstered across his belt, claws twitching on instinct.

Painter had warned him a group was inbound. Didn't mean it couldn't of been a Wall Dweller.

. . .

Wouldn't be so bad, actually. He was beginning to get hungry.

The grate snapped loose with a clang, and something crawled out—human-shaped, which wasn't much of a comfort.

An Expendable.

He recognised this one vaguely—one of his regulars, the kind that died more often than he traded.

The man's orange jumpsuit set him apart from the default navy the facility handed out, though his face bore the same roadmap of scars as every other repeat customer. Evidence of death, over and over, stitched into his skin like bad graffiti.

Orange, is the label that comes to Sebastian's mind. Easier to keep track of in case the idiot decided to do something stupid again.

Flash Beacon Cunt also came to mind, a visceral image of human innards decorating the floor of his shop being closely attached to it.

Another followed right after, bigger, taller, a little rougher. His jumpsuit was the standard-issue navy, his face carved with scars Sebastian didn't quite recognise but might've seen before.

That was the trouble with them: too many repeats, all blurring into the same line of fodder.

He almost dismisses the third one that comes in with less noise, mostly because he doesn't see her until the one in the orange jumpsuit hauls her out like luggage.

"...why are you always getting bugs in your hair?" The man—Orange—mutters, carding a hand through her hair even as she twisted her face away.

Ah.

The parasite is back.

It had been a week since the last time he'd seen her. Maybe longer. He hadn't kept track. Didn't matter much; most Expendables barely lasted thirty doors, if twenty, unless they knew what to look out for.

Hrm...

Something's a little different. Though that could be anything.

Same ugly standard jumpsuit. Same stupid face.

Oh.

Funny how he's never noticed her hair until now. She'd kept it in a short, uneven bob the first time she'd skittered into his shop, but time later and it must've grown past her shoulders. Long enough to grab, long enough to snag.

"Still alive, hm?" He doesn't hide the disappointment from his words before beckoning with a claw. "Come, take a look, something's bound to catch your eye... for a price."

Orange barely gave Sebastian a glance as he handed a watertight bag to the gruffer one, distracted.

"Get a Medkit and a Sprint if he has 'em," he muttered, already crouching low. Without ceremony, he scooped the kid up under the arms and plopped her onto a crate.

She yelped, small and indignant, just in time for him to whip out a pair of battered scissors, and she stiffened instantly.

"No! It's—it's my hair!" she hissed, voice cracking between a whine and a protest. She tried to lean away, tried to duck, but the man caught the edge of her chin with his hand, steadying her with an exasperated look. "It's not even long!"

Sebastian's fins fluttered curiously, amused despite himself. That explained the fuss.

"You almost died because you got it stuck," Orange said flatly, bracing her head with one hand and combing through her hair with the other. The scissors gleamed dull in the low light. "You wanna argue about length, or live?"

"That was one time!"

Fucking loud, Sebastian grumbles.

Meanwhile, the older one plucked a Medkit from the fishman's tail, having already placed the majority of the data from the bag on his table. Sebastian angled his head to meet the man's gaze, lips pulling back into something that was more teeth than smile.

"Not in stock this run, friend," Sebastian said before the man could ask for a SPR-INT. The word dripped venom, the kind of mocking cordiality he reserved for every Expendable that came through here.

The man's mouth tightened, disappointment sharp in his eyes, but he swallowed it and moved on, selecting a bundle of batteries instead.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Back at that crate, Orange worked quick, building up the girl's hair in his fist. His face pinched like he regretted what he was about to say, but the words still came out:

"You'll grow it out again."

It was meant to be reassurance. Came out more like resignation. The kind that admitted no one here was getting anywhere near the Crystal anytime soon. Not alive, and certainly not whole.

The scissors snapped shut, and a thick lock of brown hair fell away.

At the same time, the kid's face crumpled, mouth pulling down as if the loss of it was worse than a dozen deaths.

Which—considering she'd probably died more times than either man in this room and had nothing to show for it—was absurd.

She makes a pathetic noise, shoulders curling forward. Her eyes shone wet and she tried to hide the trembling of her lips through a scowl. All that fuss, for hair.

The man sighed through his nose, impatient. To him, it was just another survival measure. Short hair didn't catch on jagged vent grates or get yanked by Dweller teeth. It wasn't personal.

Clearly was for her.

Sebastian's claws drummed together, slow and deliberate, though his eye twitched with irritation at the thought of strands of hair getting on his floor.

Strange how she could take death after death without a blink—yet still mourned something as fragile, as human, as hair.

(He learns later, through a deal he doesn't know why he makes, that she does not take death after death without a blink.)

And stranger still that he understood it.

Orange finished with a final, rough snip, and the kid's shoulders shake like he'd just cut a piece of her off instead of a tangle of hair.

He smoothed the ends down half-heartedly, styling it enough to keep it from looking too feral, but nothing more.

Survival first, appearances never.

It was a good lesson.

Just... not one she seemed thankful for.

She slid off the crate with more force than grace, storming across the cramped room with her jaw clenched so tight her teeth might crack.

Sebastian's tail twitched as she approached, coils shifting when her small hands tried prying one of the flashlights loose from where it was strapped against his scales.

She didn't ask, didn't even look at him. Just slapped a scatter of DNA vials onto the workbench from her pockets—more than enough, careless with her trade in a way Expendables never risked with someone like him.

He counted them anyway, claws clicking across the glass tubes one by one. She'd overpaid, but she didn't seem to care. Not that he'd tell her that.

Because he didn't want to get swept up in whatever teenage storm she was brewing up this time.

Her scowl deepened as she snatched up the flashlight, grip white-knuckled, and then she turned sharp on her heel.

The keycard Sebastian left on the side table in front of the vent—a deliberate choke point, a way to tunnel every Expendable through his den whether they liked it or not—was plucked up in one swift motion.

At the vent, though, she stopped just long enough to snap:

"I hate you!"

Her voice cracked, high and sharp, echoing against the concrete and yikes. The words were meant for Orange, that much was clear—flung like a knife towards the man who had held her chin steady and cut away something she thought was more precious than her life.

Orange didn't flinch, didn't even look at her, but the other guy grimaced as he held the medkit and the bag back out to him, already shoving the batteries he brought into a pocket.

She vanishes into the vent with a scramble of limbs, before the sound of her footsteps rushing down the hall dies out once she uses the keycard to go into the next room.

Silence lingers for a beat too long.

Sebastian's claws tapped along the edges of his hands as he studied the two Expendables she'd left.

Expendables were supposed to break cleanly.

Die, revive, keep moving, keep spending. They weren't supposed to waste breath on tantrums, or mourn what couldn't keep them alive, or shout like children did when they hadn't yet learned the futility of it.

And yet—she did. Every time. Sure, she wasn't the only one. There were a select few that acted worse.

But it was irritating.

His fins twitched once more, flaring as he turned his attention back to Orange and the other one, his tone clipped and sardonic as ever. "Touching, isn't it? Nothing like a family spat to liven up my shop."

Neither man rose to the bait, and that just soured his remaining patience.

Sebastian leaned forward, a last piece of advice on the tip of his tongue. "Next time you want to play barber, do it outside my shop. Or I'll be adding a fee to your next visits."

Orange finally looked at him then, just for a moment, with the weary steadiness of a man too used to dealing with things bigger and meaner than himself.

He didn't rise to it, didn't push. He just gave the smallest nod—acknowledgement, not respect—and ducked towards the vent.

The older one followed, muttering something under his breath.

Sebastian clicked his tongue, sharp in the empty air, and leaned back into his corner.

Waste of space, the lot of them.