Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Knife was fucking dead.

Nickel saw that car hit him that night. Every night before bed, the sequence of events would repeat like a slow-mo clip in a dramatic movie. Through the thick, foggy, rain, Nickel saw him stumble into the road and be struck by a huge truck, flung into the air and into the ditch that lined the side of the wide road. He was frozen in drunken horror watching some man that looked like Fan step out of the fog, turning into some weird, green goop and slinking its way into the ditch to finish the job.

Heart palpitations kept his teeth clenched together as he saw the robot that looked like OJ, also known as Ego, throw Test Tube and Trophy’s head into the backs of Meeple trucks. He thought it was all a cruel joke, but it sobered him up rather quickly when he remembered the anecdote that Knife told him before. About the robots, about Meeple, and about the android that looked like Fan: named Vengeance.

It had been two months since that night, and now he was laying in bed, unable to forget those ghastly sights.

He wanted to call the cops like any sane person would have, but he had a sneaking suspicion that either Cobs or Ego had been paying them to keep it all from the public eye. His oversleeping turned to insomnia. When he’d lay down, his chest would be compressed with paranoia.

Did they know that he watched? Would they be coming after him next? Where did they take them all? What the fuck was that green shit? There was nobody he could tell. Absolutely nobody would believe him. Not Baseball, not Suitcase… But then he found his phone in his hand, the light burning his eyeballs, though he refused to squint.

Displayed on the screen was Balloon’s contact page. Nickel’s thumb hovered over the texting tab shakily. He didn’t want to be crazy, and Balloon said that he didn’t want to associate himself with Nickel since Suitcase told him off. All three of them, hanging out without him, unaware of the horrors that he was facing every night. If he hadn’t been able to keep a grip, he would have killed himself by now; but something told him that he had to hang on— it’s what Knife would have wanted.

Tears traced his cheeks, though his body remained unwavering and sunken in bed, much like a rock at the bottom of an aquarium. The grip he had on his phone was so light it could have slipped out at any moment. He brought it closer to his face, only squinting to see the text clearly. Something inside of him was screaming, begging for him to reach out to the one he thought he could trust. Their friendship had been fixed years ago, would Balloon really prioritize Suitcase before that?

Their last text exchange was a year ago where they exchanged awkward hellos. That was it. Nothing else about the show, nor was there anything about their personal lives that they shared. Then, Nickel noticed the Meeple logo at the top bar of his phone. Nickel paused, his vision blurring as he took in the sight of the logo that peeked and mocked him. His chest had those same compression and wheezes from his nightly panic attacks.

Tears of anguish breached his eyelids when he smashed his finger against the call button and slapped his phone to his ear. The phone rang once, and he could feel his body trembling more intensely than before. A looming sense of dread crept up to him, grasping at his shoulders. The phone rang twice. He covered his mouth, muffling his cries as best he could as to not wake up his neighbors from his cries like he did last week.

Before the phone could let out a third ring, it clicked, followed by a soft hello that came from the speaker.

Nickel wiped his hand down from his eyes to his chin and let out a chuckle. He blinked away some tears,  “You answered my call?”

“You have fifteen seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t hang up,” Balloon’s words sounded harsh, but Nickel understood why. No matter how friendly Nickel could be, Balloon would always still be wary of his antics.

With an exasperated sigh, Nickel pushed whatever words he could muster from the depths of his stomach, warily and weakly. “I can’t explain, it’s sort of… an emergency. I need you to come over quickly— and, please,” Nickel clutched his phone tighter than before, “leave your phone in the car when you get here.”

Silence from Balloon’s end of the phone, and Nickel’s hand pressed tightly over his mouth again to suppress more of his sobby, throaty hiccups due to it. Balloon’s thoughts were always so predictable; and right now he probably thought Nickel was some sort of freak. His stomach churned with bitter nausea as his fingers wrapped around the phone impossibly tighter.

“Balloon,” Nickel croaked to the phone heavily once more, “I know that what I did to you was terrible, and I know that what I did to Suitcase was downright evil of me, but please understand that you are the only one that I can call right now. You don’t have to come as a friend, and you don’t even have to come as an acquaintance— but could you please just come over as a human being?”

Nickel can feel his other hand begin to bunch up the sheets and blankets between each of his fingers, slightly burning the raw spots from where he had nibbled anxiously on them repetitively. Just as he held the blanket in his hand, his throat felt comparably claustrophobic. The walls were closing in, those manipulatively candied smiles that those things displayed haunted his room, dripping and oozing something sinister behind them while they bounced around and taking Nickel’s brain up as their own. 

Even if Knife’s appearance at his apartment was completely unexpected, at least someone came to him. Knife and Nickel had no previous meaningful interactions before— hell, they even had negative thoughts about each other from the show, but at least Knife was trying to joke around with him. Of course it was different due to Balloon and Nickel having very difficult dips in their friendship, but if their relationship meant anything to Balloon, then he would come.

There was some movement on the other end of the speaker, then an airy exhale that almost sounded like an exasperated wheeze. “I’m in my car. I’m on my way,” Balloon tells him. “It’ll be a few minutes. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

Nickel felt his nails digging into his palms. He threw his blanket over his head, covering the ghastly sight of the room and allowing for him to catch his breath. He shook his head and gulped. “No, it’s alright. Just try to be quick, okay?”

Before Balloon responded, Nickel hung up. His phone subsequently displayed a string of confused texts from Balloon, then stopped.

His head was all over the place, remembering numerous bits and details of the hotel, and hearing the news about Paintbrush supposedly shooting a bullet straight through their frontal lobe and surviving. He scrunched his eyes shut, wondering how things would be different if Paintbrush was released from whatever the fresh fuck this world was now. It was entirely possible that they had the same train of thought as Nickel before turning the gun.

When Suitcase yelled at him in her front doorway, screaming about how he had caused so many of her visual hallucinations, he didn’t want to take it seriously because he was so caught up in trying to redeem himself. Never had he thought that they were this scarring. He wasn’t one to really take mental health into account, as he was raised in a rough household, so finally nearing his breaking point seemingly opened his eyes to the horrors he’d inflicted on what he thought were his closest friends.

He wiggled his toes, then his feet, then focused on waving his legs a little. Inch by inch he would move parts of his body, focusing on the pressure of life and reality that moved them. He took long, deep breaths, easing out his hyperventilation. This was a method that Tea Kettle taught him (even though he was absolutely sure that she learned it from Candle,) and he never found any reason to use it until now. Sure it helped him, but if it stopped helping him in the future then who knows what the fuck he would do? He wiggled his fingers, then rocked his arms. He circled his shoulders, and leaned his head back further into the pillow beneath him.

He was unstable. He was a mess. He was greasy from being unable to haul himself into the shower every day, and disgusted with how his body felt beneath the blanket. Joints aching, fingers burning, he uncovered himself and tossed his blanket beside him. He was beginning to sweat under there.

Nickel sat upright on the side of his bed, scrolling through many different social media apps. While he tried to keep his focus away from the situation,  he felt bile rise every time his eyes flickered up to the Meeple logo that was looming near the top of his phone. A few times he’d even thought it was smiling at him, but it was just his eyes playing those same nasty tricks on him— it was just the bite mark on the side of it.

Soft knocking at his front door made him jump out of his skin. He pulled his hoodie over his head and jogged to his door, swinging it open and meeting eyes with Balloon, who was holding a bag of fast food in his hand.

His hair was in a loose ponytail, and he was also wearing an oversized red shirt with baggy jeans; it was obvious he just slapped something on before getting out of the house. He squeezed his way past Nickel and set the food on the counter. “You should eat,” he squeaked out. “It’s important to get food in your stomach after crying so much.”

“You could tell?”

“You were having a full blown panic attack over the phone, how could I not?” After shutting the door, Balloon laid his hand on his hip. When he turned back, Nickel was gawking at the bag of food on the counter. He began taking out the containers and placing them on the counter top, organizing them in their own sections that only Nickel could have known. Letting him do this, Balloon whipped out his phone to absentmindedly check his texts.

Nickel looked up over the bag and held his hand out. “Phone,” he waved his fingers. “Give it. I told you to leave it in the car.”

Balloon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest. He wasn’t one to rain on someone's parade, especially after a panic attack. When Nickel got his hand on Balloon’s phone, he waltzed back to his bedroom and brought out his own cell phone. “We don’t need these anymore,” he said sternly. “They’d be listening in on what I’m about to tell you.”

“What?” Balloon’s nose crinkled with confusion.

Nickel marched to a window and slid it open, revving his arm back to wind up for the throw of a lifetime. Before Balloon could stop him, he threw both devices out of the window.

Test Tube leaned to the side, swiftly dodging the pile of books that was thrown at full strength straight towards her face. When she looked up to her boss (unfortunately, Ego,) sitting in front of her, she could see that his eyes were practically spiraling in fires of multiple reds and oranges. His smile remained as he tried to calm himself, and he brushed his suit.

“What do you mean that you can’t just recreate it?” Ego steepled his fingers. “Meeple had you on its team solely because you are one of the most prolific scientists and engineers in the nation— maybe even the entire world!” He slapped his hands on the top of the desk and stood up from his chair, leaning forward into her face. The bright fluorescent lights illuminated his face clearly.

She could see light scars from their previous scuffles months ago, and she could see the minute details that she put into the fleshy material when she was building him. His synthetic pores, the countless eyelashes that at first glance seemed real, but looked absolutely fake when up in someone’s face. His forehead was furrowed with lines of annoyance, and his brows were snapped together. Though, his bright, crescent of a smile persisted.

She did not waver. If she were to give any sort of negative reaction, it would simply fuel his fire.

“Your little freak friends killed your own robots! And who knows what the fuck Knife did to Ven,” Ego waved his arm towards the door of his office, his suit shuffled as he adjusted the balance he had on the desk. “You brought Apathy back, yet you can’t make a simple little experiment for us?”

Test Tube’s vision flicked down, looking at a bulky monitoring device that was tightly wrapped around her ankle above her grey socks.

“Yeah?” Ego spat at her. “You want to go back to your fucking cell so badly?”

Test Tube looked back up to him solemnly with her lips parted, beginning to speak her defense. “Firstly,” she pressed her hands into her thighs, “Ven using Infusion X to possess Knife’s body is unlike anything I have ever seen before. I have no clue how to recreate it in a way for your new product if you continuously refuse to hand me the exact materials that your engineers used to create it.”

“So, you’re just unintelligent?!” Ego barked at her, slamming his splayed hand onto the desktop again.

Test Tube shook her head in disagreement. “You are putting words in my mouth. I am just telling you that other than from what I saw that night, I have no clue how to properly create it with no formula. Also, his name isn’t Apathy anymore.”

Ego snickered and sat back down in his office chair. “Yeah, I’ll entertain the fact that he wants to be seen as Trophy now. That’s like me wanting to go by OJ— we’re nothing like our human counterparts were. That’s the fatal flaw you neglected to acknowledge: you were forcing us to be something that we didn’t want to be.”

“Now you are simply just bringing up things to keep fanning the flames,” Test Tube folded her hands in her lap. “You are quite unprofessional for the COO of Meeple. Cobs keeping his CEO position rather than handing it straight to you was wise of him. And the thing about you being nothing like OJ is true, I suppose. You’re not as smart as he was—”

The back of his hand struck Test Tube’s face with a loud smack!

She did not wince. Though, she did press her palm to her cheek and blinked at him. There was no urge to cry, or even tear up. It was a daily occurrence, and he had smacked her countless times when she would tell him the truth or talk back like this. Ego had complete indemnity from prosecution as long as the company he was part of was pumping out new ways to wrangle the general population into unsuspecting examination.

Ego gripped her collar, yanking her closer to his face. The corner of his upturned mouth twitched. “You were able to separate Yin from Yang. You were able to split Nickel’s mind in two. You created bowties that turn people invisible.” If  he brought her any closer, their foreheads would have touched. “You encountered the very aliens that were once, and are now again the base of our projects.”

Test Tube shook her head at that comment. “A-Aliens? The base of your projects?”

Ego tossed her back into her chair.

“Whoa,” Test Tube pushed herself upwards, “we freed the Light Shimmers from ever having to deal with you idiots again! I made sure that Meeple would never make contact with them again!”

Ego rolled his eyes. “It’s almost like sometimes your plans don’t work out!” He waved his hands, “Newsflash, Test Tube: They’re ours again! And they’ve been helping us with the materials needed to create this. Why do you think we pulled so much money out of our asses, scamming the ones we loved and even taking advantage of other criminals? Do you think the government would just allow us to make contact with them without wanting to barge in and stop us from creating all of these revolutionary technological advances!?”

She felt tears well up in her eyes, inflicting her with previously dormant emotions. When Ego took notice of this, his eyes narrowed. His voice was slick with mockery. “And now that you know, I’m sure that you’d just hate to be shown what exactly we use?” He stepped out from his desk and snatched her by the arm. “Come with me,” he hissed, “I’ll show you just that.”

She wiped her face with her free arm as she was dragged from the office and down the hall. They began to enter a portion of the facility that Test Tube wasn’t allowed in, which roused her curiosity. At the very end of the hallway, there were two large, white doors. When compared to the other doors she’d seen in the facility, she was nervous— they had no windows. Ego shoved his fingers into the collar of his shirt, tugging out a lanyard from underneath, revealing a laminated identification card. He held it daintily between two fingers and pressed it against a screen that was to the side. Harsh beeping rang out, then Ego pushed the doors open and practically threw Test Tube inside.

He stood beside her, flipping on a lightswitch and exposing another long hallway of large windows and doors. Test Tube’s mouth was agape, and her hands began to tremble. She eyed the limitless amounts of windows and doors that lined the hallway. The length looked like if you walked, it would take decades to get to the end. She wasn’t aware of how large the scale of the Meeple building was until now— she felt so miniscule when thinking about it.

“What is all this?” she stood with a horrified expression slapped on her face.

Ego gestured his hand out towards the extensive hall. “Go on,” he urged her with a disgusting sense of amusement. “You’ve always been so curious; why don’t you see what you’ve been helping us do, Test Tube.”

Test Tube slid one of her feet forward, gliding slightly on the smooth tile in front of her. She turned to Ego once more, eyeing him and wondering if this was another one of his filthy tricks. He only had that damned smile, and he stuffed the lanyard carefully back underneath his shirt.

She took another hesitant step forward, then another, alternating uneasily between each foot. She was slow as to not slide from the lack of friction between her smooth socks and the glistening tile below her. She slid her hand on the wall next to her as she tiptoed closer to one of the tall, metal doors. She tried to peer through the window on the door, but it was too high up for her. After another uncertain look to Ego, she crept towards a window, placing her hands on the cill, pushing herself up on it to get a good look inside of the dark room.

It was a laboratory of sorts, and two men with light grey lab coats were inside. Their faces seemed to be black screens with green pixels flickering and blinking about to show their expressions. When one of them turned, it displayed a wide label on the back of their coat, reading ‘ Mecintosh ’.

They began to walk around, exposing a large table with a large, translucent container that began to vibrate. Though they were considered some of the more old-school robots of Meeple, one of the Mecintoshes scrambled quickly to rip the cap of the container off, revealing a small pink egg. It was flailing its pure white hands of energy, doing everything it could to fight back from them.

Just as Test Tube decided she had to stop them, she felt Ego press a hand on her shoulder. “Watch,” he cooed, “the process is a marvel, really.”

She shakily bit her lip and watched the scientists push the egg onto the table. It shook, doing its best to resist, but the second Mecintosh brought out the thickest syringe that she’d ever seen. The sight of it was daunting, and Test Tube so desperately wanted to shatter the window that barricaded her away and save the poor Light Shimmer that was trapped inside with those poor excuses of scientists.

The one with the syringe stuck it right in the crack of the Light Shimmer with great ease. Test Tube’s heart twisted, watching the vibration of the creature intensify, making both of the Mecintoshes hands shake. The one holding the syringe deep in the hole of the alien’s shell also held the egg steady.

The pure light energy that made the Shimmer a Shimmer was then sucked slowly into the barrel of the syringe, rocking around in it with smoky remains— like the smoke twisting off of a pile of dry ice. All life that was in the egg previously had just vanished without a trace, dropping flatly onto the table and rolling to the side of the counter.

Test Tube’s hands clenched the window cill, making her knuckles strain from the pressure. She could feel pins and needles stab at her foggy head. She threw her shoulder back, throwing Ego’s hand off of her shoulder and running to another window that was closest to her.

The same sight— two Mecintosh scientists in the middle of extracting the energy out of some poor, young Shimmer.

“No,” she pushed herself to every window, watching the same exact situation behind each one. “No, no, no!” Each time she would slap her  hands on the window cill and push her face up to see, she felt closer and closer to the brink of insanity. It was horrible, the things she saw behind those endless arrays of windows; they were arguably worse than anything she had gone through so far. Kidnapping friends and experimenting on them against their will. And, for what? The name of science?

That was not science. Science was creating things—- without tormenting people in the process. Science was helping to fix the problems of many.

Test Tube found herself nearing the end of the hallway, suddenly looking eye to eye with a Meeple product of her height. It had gold, slicked back hair and a sharp, off-white suit that would have blended in with the walls if it had been any brighter. On the bridge of his nose laid glowing purple sunglasses with silver frames. He held out his hand, stopping her from moving any further.

She then noticed that the Meeple product had a nametag, reading MePhone6. She whirled her head around to face Ego as his shoes clicked against the tile floor. “The Shimmers are our friends , ” she widened her stance.

“Surely you don’t think that I have any sort of bond to them,” Ego scoffed. “And you really think Cobs would give up the opportunity to utilize their power again, for the power of friendship? You’re so stupid.”

“It will not work. You are only deepening the pile of shit that you got us all in because of this; do you realize what you have done?” She bared her teeth like an angered feline. There was no other way for her to present it. Ego and Cobs fucked up big time. Neither of the two men had any idea about what kind of allies that the Light Shimmers had throughout the universe— if they were to find out that their energy was being harvested for something as daringly stupid as having your products possess their owners for a corrupt corporatocracy, the world would be doomed.

For the first time ever, Ego’s smile dropped. “I don’t like your tone.”

Test Tube felt herself gulp as soon as she saw his lips curve downwards. “You need to stop this before you cause the downfall of man,” she held a fist to her heart. “You and Cobs have not thought this through.”

Ego held his hand up and snapped his fingers.

The guard that stood behind Test Tube wrapped his arms around her, confining her arms to her sides. “Let me go,” she shouted, kicking her feet. “Stop! You have to stop this! Let me the fuck go!”

“Take her to the infirmary,” he waved his hand to the door that MePhone6 was previously guarding. “We’ll show her what it’s like to fuck around with sentience.”

No matter how hard she kicked and thrashed in the guard’s grasp, he would not falter. The clutch that it held on her was like a straitjacket, preventing her from slipping out and running away from the new sounds of whirrs and beeps. Medical equipment for defective Meeple products.

She was not a Meeple product; she was not a robot at all. She was human.

The more she writhed in the hands of MePhone6, the tighter its fingers dug into her skin. The way they stabbed her arms left an intense burning sensation that ran all throughout the nerves of her body— it pulsed from her arms to her legs in repeating, agonizing waves. At any moment, she could have gone crumbling down from the pressure onto the floor, screaming wheezily with an exhaust of rubble and dust, expiring for her own good.

She was thrown onto a gurney bed, and held down by her wrists by the MePhone guard. She cried and begged and protested, but was ultimately ignored by the tall guard that kept her confined to the bed. Ego stood in front of her, clapping twice and bringing out two extra Mecintoshes and some new MePhone model with a dark suit, dark sunglasses, and a red medical mask. He was holding up a thick laser gun; one of the guns that Test Tube was forced to design for Meeple staff as soon as she was forced to work here.

“You can’t just tell us what to do so rudely and not expect us to assume you’d try to escape some time,” Ego patted her leg. “You’re really unlucky that Knife is the one who had to take care of Edacity— maybe he would have taught you how to pray for your life.”

The Mecintosh began to hold her down with the help of MePhone6, wrapping a respirator mask onto her face.

Ego’s smile reappeared as he watched his guinea pig struggle. “I really appreciated that you were able to help us create so many advances in our operating systems, but perhaps we’ve kept you alive for too long.” He snatched the gun that the red MePhone had and pressed the barrel of the laser right against Test Tube’s temple. “Do you think God will listen to the prayers of the scientists who work against his existence?”

Test Tube let her limbs go loose, resting them against the mattress and allowing for Mecintosh and MePhone6 to take a few steps back.

“Now,” Ego adjusted the respirator mask on Test Tube’s face. “4S. Go pay our prisoner another interrogation visit while we execute this idiot.” To which MePhone4S obeyed, pushing itself out of the doors and vanishing down the extensive hallway lined with rooms of torturous experimentation.

As Ego turned his face to watch 4S leave the room, she kicked the laser out of his hand, kicked Ego in the face, then ripped the mask off of her. She dove out of the bed to avoid Mecintosh and MePhone6’s capture and snatched the gun off of the floor. She pointed it to the three, threatening to shoot loudly, then watched them like a hawk as she backed towards the hallway doors. Ego held his face as he laid on the ground, groaning and moving just slightly. Even if Test Tube was only wearing socks, she made sure to clock him with the ball of her foot to add a little extra force. He turned onto his hands and knees, looking up to her. One of his eyes was slightly out of place.

“I am not some cold, heartless machine like you idiots,” she hissed.

“Every Meeple employee has their own cog in this machine, Test Tube,” he poked his eyeball with his finger, rotating it back front and center and correcting it with a few blinks. “Even if you aren’t a machine, you still managed to help us advance. You helped us with extracting Light Shimmer energy! You created me, which led to all of this anyway!”

She forced her shoulder into the door, stumbling into the hallway and scrambling down it. Ego’s screams echoed down the halls.

“I’ll never understand you Test Tube, but when I get my hands on you once more, I’ll fucking kill you!”

The dingy light that hung from the center of the room turned on with a flick, which was then followed by a faint buzzing noise. Someone had entered the room, expecting to retrieve any answers that Knife might have had about what Ven had done to him that night. This person wasn’t anyone important— all of Ego’s lackeys wore the same dark, reflective sunglasses that perched upon their noses that were covered by red medical masks. They were all products of Meeple’s twisted designs, so Knife had no care for them.

Truth was, Knife had no clue what happened that night. Waking up with the mother of all hangover headaches sitting in a truck next to the man who threatened you and your friend’s lives wasn’t something he’d wish for even his own enemy. Since then, he’d spent a countless amount of time sealed away, held captive, laying almost lifelessly in a room that he could barely see. The only time he could take in the details was when the light was on, yet even that small light wasn’t enough to show the room in its entirety. There was only the floor, a working toilet in the nearest corner, and rickety, unreachable shelves with nothing but air on them.

But from his guess, it could have been weeks since he was thrown in here and tied to a post like a rabid dog. Of course he’s tried to slip himself free or even knock the post down, but it would never come loose— not even to wiggle. It was hopeless. Knife accepted that fact however many days ago.

The large, suited man with a hidden face stepped closer to Knife and away from the door which he emerged from. Though his face was hidden beneath the taunting red mask, Knife could not shake the feeling that the man was smirking at the sight. The brawny detective that vowed his revenge on the company was now chained helplessly to the floor, practically starving from the lousy excuses of food and water that they’d give him to keep him conscious enough to spit back insults at many interrogators; it was probably the most entertaining thing Meeple had ever seen. Knife was treated like some sort of lab rat, and he was fairly certain that he was being watched through a camera— he just couldn’t figure out where it would be.

“Get up,” the masked man ordered with a thick Austrian accent, nudging his dark, polished, glossy shoe into Knife’s ribs.

Knife wanted to throw his fist into the jaw of the brute, but couldn’t even bring himself to stand. Trembling, he looked up towards the employee that loomed over him, squinting from the light. The faint taste of stale blood rose up in his throat as he remembered what would happen next. No matter how many times he’d tell these things that he had no clue where Ven was, he’d be abused and beaten near to death— then miraculously survive. He’d lay in the dark, feeling the rapids of blood gush from his nostrils and mouth, only to wake up to his face feeling fine and the blood staining the concrete below him. He’d wake up cold, shivering from the unexplainable.

“I said get up— now ,” the man gripped at Knife’s holey collar and brought him up to an almost eye-level. “I should not have to force you to do every little thing. Now, let’s continue with our routine of asking you the simple question of: What did you do with Ven?”

Knife felt the shackle on his ankle pinch his skin as the man shifted him around like a rattling toy. His mouth quirked with amusement, his shoulders beginning to shake with mirth and light chuckling. Normally Knife’s voice would be naturally gruff, but recently it’d grown aberrantly hoarse from being threatened with dehydration. “You’re right, let’s continue the routine. I’ll answer just the same as I had last time,” he weakly wrapped his fingers around the man’s wrist. It was large, like a huge plumbing pipe. Cold too. There was no doubt that this man was an android similar to Ego.

Knife lowered his chin, staring daggers through his eyebrows into the jet black sunglasses that gave Knife a squirmy feeling in his stomach. “I don’t know where Ven is. I don’t know what happened. I say this every time, and you never believe me. One minute I was drinking with my friend, the next I was awake in the truck next to Ego and hurting all over,” Knife raised his face yet still kept his eyes on the rectangular voids in front of him. Not even once had he thought about lying to the man. If they did let him go, they’d easily figure out that he was fibbing and catch him again. They’d probably do something even worse to him then.

As Knife braced himself for the fist of consequence to make impact with his skull, he noticed that the man was pressing two fingers to his ear, his head leaning slightly to the side. His mask shifted, as if he was clenching and readjusting his jaw. Possibly grinding his teeth. Then, from his ear, was the muffled shouting of men saying something that sounded like ‘she has a gun!’

Knife nodded up, his smile resprouting. “You okay there, pal?”

The man dropped Knife onto the ground. The force of it knocked the wind out of Knife, making him cough and groan. His hands grazed the cold, bloody-rust stained concrete as he pushed his upper body to look its way to the Meeple product and employee who was walking back to the door.

“Hey,” Knife called out, “you’re not done just yet, are you? We were just getting to the kinky part!”

The man turned around slowly, raising his arm and gripping his medical mask. When his mouth was revealed, Knife saw a myriad of scars on the man’s jaw, with a scar in the shape of an apple with a bite taken out of it on one of his cheeks. Then, the sunglasses were removed, revealing bright, red eyes. His brows were knitted together, and his flaming eyes seemed to almost be popping out of his skull due to how intensely he was scowling.

He looked down at Knife, lips tight and forming a disdainful frown. After brief seconds of hesitation, the man cracked a humorless smirk right back to the weak prisoner on the floor. “Your attempt at hiding your fear with humor amuses not only me, but the scientists, Knife,” he adjusted his arms to straighten out his dark coat. “You will be quite lucky if you survive any longer down here, whether it be from starvation or suicide…” the lights flicked off. “Or perhaps you will simply be driven mad.”

Knife threw himself forward expecting to run out the door, but was yanked backwards by the chain around his ankle.

Boisterous, hollow laughter erupted from the man as he shut the door, once again drowning Knife in the darkness of his dilapidated, boxy prison. As he laid there, letting the floor’s absence of warmth wash over him to try to wash the burning pain from his ankle away, his eyes scanned the darkness for any chance at finding something new. Now that his fears of being examined were confirmed, what exactly was he supposed to do with that knowledge? He could only lay and know that he was a pathetic excuse of a man, only strong enough to snap back with the occasional quip.

The memory of metallic blood in his mouth simmered even though his throat was clean. He could taste it every time he’d begin to fall asleep, he could remember the feeling of his jaw dislocating from the beatings, and he would only curl into a ball and cry, accepting the fate of dying alone. Though, maybe he should have expected this to be his end when he signed up to be in the force. Again, Knife clawed at the solid surface, scraping his dirtied fingernails on the smears of dry blood beneath him, chipping it little by little.

When engulfed in darkness, opening his eyes didn’t seem to matter. No matter how much he tried to convince himself his eyes were open, he’d continue to experience the phosphenes that pranced around in his vision, or lack thereof. His life flashed before his eyes every time he was left alone. From Inanimate Insanity, to more recently when he was hanging out with Nickel. The vivid image of him blowing people’s brains out because of Ego and Ven’s nonsensicality.

He was stumped. Ven began to work with Meeple, not Knife. Why were they so caught up on questioning Knife about it when, as far as he was concerned, Ven was still missing in action?

Knife sucked in a breath, slapping a hand to his chest after rolling onto his back. Something inside of him moved. Why was he not dead? Where had those bruises from multiple beating sessions gone? He was so sure that his jaw had been dislocated several times, yet there he was, speaking perfectly to that Meeple worker perfectly. Like each time he had fallen asleep, waiting for the sweet hug of death to embrace him, something would reset him back to be as fit as a fiddle.

Each time he could feel his eyes shut, there was a bright green light that faded in and out from beneath his eyelids. Then, he felt his insides squirm and contort, flowing against each other like a thick slime was wiggling its way around it all. He wasn’t really dead, per se, but…just what exactly was Knife?

There were a few loud bangs on his cell door, exposing some light from the cracks of it.

He looked up, watching the door then be blasted off of its hinges with a loud zap! A tall woman holding a thick white gun marched in, then shooting the chain that he was bound to. He could barely make out the woman’s face as his eyes tried to adjust to the dull brightness.

“I am sorry, Knife,” she pushed him to the ground. “I have to knock you out so you are easier to handle.” She twirled the gun in her hand and slammed the handle into the side of his head, knocking him out to a sea of black.

Chapter Text

The weight of Knife’s body made Test Tube’s feet drag on the floor, though she was still jogging as quickly as she could to find a good hiding spot for him. He was shorter than her by a few inches and now much skinnier than the last time she saw him— those sick fucks at Meeple probably tried to starve him for their own amusement. Bile burned her throat as she thought about the suffering that they put him through.

Down the hall was an array of doors with silver label plates displayed on them. Test Tube pushed herself to continue down the building, desperately searching for a place to set Knife while she searched for a way out. She didn’t want to knock him out, but it was the only way to keep him from goofing off from possible delirium. She had no doubt that Knife would have some trouble with his focus after being locked up in a dark room for two months, so keeping him down would be her best bet.

To the side was a cracked open door, displayed with a silver plaque reading ‘storage room’, slightly angled diagonally. Analyzing the darkness inside, Test Tube quickly slipped herself and Knife inside of the storage room, shutting the door as quietly as possible so there was a miniscule chance of anyone hearing her whereabouts. She held Knife close as she patted the wall, searching for a switch. As her hand got caught on a bump, she flicked it on and let her vision adjust to the room. Shelves covered in light dust lined the walls, with many types of shattered Meeple products within it.

Though, she was drawn to one specific cracked Meeple android at the back of the room.

The dark screen displayed on its face was cracked and turned off. It sat limp on the floor with its back against the wall and head drooping downwards, looking as if it would topple over at any minute. And though it looked broken on the outside, Test Tube could see that there were no other injuries on the Meeple droid.

She laid Knife down out of the way of the door and crawled her way to the robot in the back of the room, taking light, quiet breaths with the distance that shrank between the two. Upon getting closer, the details on the android were unlike anything she had ever seen in the two months she was held captive at Meeple. While they were of an older model, it seemed to be more advanced than the Mecintoshes. Though, if it were more advanced than the Mecintoshes, why had it been locked away? If it was useless, Cobs would have destroyed it and threw it away to be torn apart for scrap metal. And if it was deadly, then Cobs would have kept it as close to him as possible after having his underlings work on it.

The hair on the robot’s head was a strong, dark grey, with some strands of jet black hair twisting through. And from the estimated height, it was possible that this was an older version of the MePhone models. Its face was a dark screen, cracked from one end to the other as if it was stabbed. It also had a few dents here and there, but they weren’t in any places that would render him permanently dead. Holding out a hand, she inched herself closer.

She took a quick peek behind her to check on Knife, who was beginning to stir. He was moving slightly and adjusting his body to lay comfortably, grunting and rubbing his head as he blinked himself awake. Test Tube turned back to the MePhone android, meeting with its body slumped over more than before, positioned like it was about to push itself to standing.

Something in her skin rippled, sending chills through every nerve in her being. Despite the sight of the seemingly decommissioned robot moving when it wasn’t supposed to, she calmed herself; whispering to herself that it was just her imagination being mixed in with her insane amount of stress. That was the most logical explanation.

Though, when she put her hand on the android’s closest arm, it sprung to life— its screen booted up with a flashing, unsteady image of a past owner’s sound files. Her arm yanked back, protecting her face from the sharp glow of the machine. The motors in the machine’s body began to hum shakily, almost drowning out the sound of the man behind her coming to. Test Tube turned, watching Knife slowly push himself up and rub his head.

“You couldn’t just… keep me awake?” He grunted, readjusting his jaw and cracking his neck and knuckles with satisfying pops. “You didn’t even say hello—” his eyes widened at the sight of the fritzy android. “What is that?”

“I have no idea,” Test Tube turned back to the robot. “... yet. ”

As the machine’s screen continued to glitch. The sharp whirrs and clicks made Test Tube wince. She looked around the shelves, then grabbed as many parts as she could and dusted them all off. Lucky enough, there was also a dusty tool box on a shelf with a handful of tools. She brought the Meeple product closer to her and laid it on her lap, twirling a screwdriver and beginning to unscrew its screen. Its beeps begin to amplify, beginning to struggle and lightly paw at Test Tube’s stomach, but she simply kept pushing its arms down and pushing them out of the way so that she could work on the inside of the machine. She spent two months tinkering away at Meeple products and their insides; connecting wires, programming, reprogramming, setting in chips, fixing screens…

“Ah,” she sighed, “the insides of this android look like an older version of their MePhones,” she readjusted some misaligned metal in its skull. In the depths of its frame, there was a bright white chip. This was Meeple’s signature Meeple Tracker; they used it for their phones to get more accurate readings on their global positioning systems, as well as secretly sell their phones’ user’s data back to the company. They put this chip in every single device, but this chip seemed to be around over a whole decade old from the model of it. It was a little bulky, and the trackers they used nowadays were practically microchips smaller than a pinky finger nail.

Knife grunted. “Well at least you were able to do something productive while being held prisoner here, I guess.” He scooted himself up to Test Tube, eyeing the insides of the MePhone she was tinkering with. “What are you doing to it?”

In a matter of minutes, Test Tube had seemingly got the MePhone to calm down and relax and began to work around its robotic brain at a speedy yet focused pace. Test Tube’s work was precise— Knife could tell that she was forced to perfect her skills while under Meeple’s command. “It is very old, therefore quite glitchy.” As she messed with the insides more, the screen of the MePhone went dark. She snapped the screen back in place and tightened it back on, then placing the toolbox back onto the shelf where it collected dust before. “I have not seen a model like this, so by my assumption, we should be dealing with the last ever model of—”

Before she could finish her statement, the MePhone’s screen lit up with a grey-to-white gradient background, displaying a white loading circle, with black text above it, reading MePhone3GS.

“MePhone3GS,” she wiped her hands on each other and looked to Knife. “I can’t fix the screen just yet since there’s no appropriate material here, but I will be sure to do that when we escape.”

“If we escape,” Knife crossed his arms.

As the phone booted up, Test Tube took the moment to use her small pliers to snip away at the plastic band on her ankle with as much force as she could, crudely snapping the plastic anklet off. MePhone3GS was taking a while to boot up, so in the meantime she began to examine her limbs in case she had received any injuries that the adrenaline had hidden away from her. After making sure she wasn’t bleeding there, she began to check her stomach and other vital places. She was just a bit scuffed from being thrown around, but she was fine.

“Come here,” Test Tube crawled to Knife, snatching his arms and looking at them. He was very dirty just from first glance, but when up close, Test Tube could see that most of it was just faded scars and a sea of bruises in ranges of newer ones being dark black and blue to old ones of light yellow. They were scattered across his body, littering him as if Meeple’s workers took pride in beating him senseless. Then her vision drifted to his clothes, which were covered in dry blood.

She brought the weak fabric closer to her, examining the brownish splatters. “This is very old blood— when you got hit by that car…”

Knife scoffed. “I was drunk and don’t even know what happened. I wish I couldn’t remember the hangover though. Waking up chained in a storage room smaller than this one and in the dark is gonna impact me in the long run.” He pushed Test Tube’s hand away, scooting back to the furthest wall from her. “Besides, I feel great. Those guards could beat me to a pulp and I’d wake up as good as new.”

Test Tube pressed her curved finger to her lips, furrowing her brows and continuing to examine Knife from where she was without invading his personal space. With the injuries shown on his body, he wasn’t supposed to be alive. And from the way he was wording it, he made it seem like he was supposed to have even more evidence of beatings from the interrogation sessions he’d been in. Though, it was unnatural to only have the amount that he had in the span of two months, where Meeple guards had beaten him every day.

“That… is not right,” Test Tube shook her head. “From the amount of pain you have been through, I am surprised that you are not hanging onto life by a thin thread.” She found herself captivated by the puzzling miracle of Knife being alive thus far. She could tell by his skin that he wasn’t modified by Meeple’s robotics or hardware at all because Meeple androids don’t bruise. Their membrane skin did cut like a humans, but never bled; therefore, they wouldn’t scar. Though it would fix itself fast.

Then, Test Tube watched Knife scratch his stomach. She leaned forward slightly. The foggy images of the trucks and smiles around her whizzed by. That night, she watched something that should have been scientifically impossible twist into the entirely possible and plausible.

Realization struck her.

Two months of sitting quietly in Meeple Inc., eating her small meals and tinkering away and having her brain squeezed for the company to have every last drop of her knowledge, only for her to realize that the thing that she had to put a stop to was right in front of her, burrowed deeply within Knife’s body— deep within Knife’s guts. Fear rendered her body stiff, unable to move in even the slightest direction. Frozen with her finger at her lip, she had finally found the ability to suck in some of the stale air that hung in the storage room.

She cleared her throat, shaking at the thought of losing yet another friend. “Knife, your stomach.”

He raised an eyebrow and placed his hand back on his gut. “Yeah, I got a little out of shape. You can’t really blame me.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Ven—”

Suddenly there was a loud beep coming from 3GS, making the two of them jump. Test Tube threw herself backwards and slapped her hands over the speakers to suffocate the noise, sweating bullets. 3GS threw his hands onto Test Tube’s wrists, pulling as hard as it did with its previous attempt at pushing the stranger away.

Test Tube began to shush it hastily, trying to quietly convince it that she was anything but an enemy, and that she was not there to hurt it. Hell, she even repaired it. As she reasoned with 3GS, it began to calm down. Its breathing was still sharp and wheezy, but it seemed to have calmed a bit. Its tight grip on her wrists softened, recognizing that she genuinely meant no harm. Once it felt itself breathing deeply and felt its own consciousness, it sighed and put one of its hands on its forehead.

“Good.” Test Tube nodded and lowered her hands.

3GS looked up at her through its cracked screen. The pixels that shaped its eyes and mouth were jittery, yet was still able to express discernible emotions, and right now it seemed thankful that the two people in front of it weren’t there to do any harm.

Well, one person out of the two anyway.

Test Tube could see that 3GS kept flickering his eyes between Knife and her. Its screen displayed a look of worry, to which Test Tube pressed a hand on its chest— specifically in the location where a heart would be. Though the MePhones did not have hearts, they were programmed to feel almost as much as a regular human would. Using the information that was indirectly handed to her, she was able to deduce one single thing.

“3GS,” as she continued to look at it, it looked more and more similar to MePhone4, weighing a sigh out of her. She moved her hand off of its chest back to her own lap. “I need you to help Knife and me get out of here.”

“Help?” It repeated, masked by a soft static filter.

Test Tube nodded and stood up. “Help us. I need to get Knife… god, somewhere, I don't even know. I have to operate on him.”

Knife yelped and slapped his hands over his mouth, hushing himself quickly. “Operate on me?” he hissed. “Test Tube I’m not letting you turn me into one of your murdering crazy robots.”

“You might as well already be one!” Test Tube turned to him, pointing at his stomach. “Meeple’s been working on making their new MePhone models possess their owners and used Ven as the prototype. He is inside of you right now.”

Knife’s brows furrowed as he patted his stomach. His eyes were almost bulging out of his skull. “You’re fucking with me.”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, I am not. I have no clue what their formula can do; much less, what the prototype formula can do.” She turned back to 3GS, helping it to stand up. Once it was standing tall on its heels, she cleared her throat and crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest.“I need you to get me a map of this facility. I have to find Trophy— a friend.”

3GS’ screen immediately began to change, bringing up a very intricate and detailed map of the whole Meeple building. Test Tube squinted at the screen and groaned. “This is hopeless. There is no way for me to memorize all of this, no matter how good at memorization I am.”

Knife slowly stood up and hobbled over to Test Tube, leaning on her shoulder. He pointed to the map and dragged his finger along a hallway. “We’re here in the supply closet. Go down this hallway, turn here, then keep going left. You’ll be where Trophy’s head is.”

“How do you know this?” Test Tube snapped at him with a perplexed expression. He too, looked obviously befuddled. Knife leaned off of Test Tube’s shoulder and ran a hand through his knotted hair. After a few seconds of quiet, he muttered a name.

“Ven.”

If Test Tube was a robot she probably would have blue screened right there. “Of course,” she facepalmed, “each second we waste, he is probably absorbing your brain.”

Knife slid his hands down his cheeks. “What?!”

“You’re gaining his knowledge, he is gaining yours. Soon, you two will be one. He’s not just in your stomach like I had thought— he’s going to be all of you.” Test Tube gave a second, quick examination over Knife, looking at his whole body and worn down clothes. His irises had a significant green glow to them.

Test Tube felt a harsh shiver run through her body. “He’s spreading. I have to hurry and get Trophy so that we can leave.”

“You can’t just… you know,” Knife waved his hands around. “Leave the motherfucker?”

“Trophy contains immeasurable knowledge of Meeple’s programs due to owning his and Cupid’s memory chips. We need him.” Test Tube tapped 3GS, removing the map from its screen. “Okay. Down the hallway, turn, and keep going left. I got this.” She rubbed her temples and looked at 3GS, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. “Are you able to change into your phone form, 3GS?”

Even though its screen glitched slightly, it began to fold and morph. It creaked and cranked, booming into a dissonance of robotic noises, bending into a smaller, cell phone. It was brickier than the modern models, but it would be enough to slip into her pocket in case something happened. All she had to do was keep the screen turned off to conserve the slight amount of battery that it had left. It was rotting in a closet for so long, it was probably hanging on by a thread. And who knew what kind of shit it went through to be so broken and abandoned.

3GS fit perfectly in Test Tube’s pants pocket. Despite Test Tube bracing herself to exit the closet, Knife seemed to continue attempting to persuade her to leave Trophy behind; saying that he was actually very unhelpful with finding Ven, and that there was no way to know if he was actually in the room that 3GS suggested he’d be in. To Knife, this was a faulty rescue plan. For lack of a better word, Test Tube wasn’t really enjoying hearing Knife say all of those things about the situation. He only made it worse for her anxiety and unrest. He reached to place a hand on her shoulder, but she quickly swatted him away.

She shot a hostile glare to the disheveled man in the closet with her. “Sometimes, Knife,” she hissed, “when we have a ball of doubt in the pits of our stomachs, maybe we should push them aside when the time isn’t calling for worrying. We don’t want our doubt to take full control of us .”

Knife could only clench his jaw and sigh. “Fine. Go get him. But if you die, I’m just saying that I told you so before you get fucking, I don’t know, disintegrated? Or something.”

“I. Will. Be. Fine.” She rolled her eye and twisted the closet door open as slowly as possible. When the crack was big enough, she peered out, sticking her head out and observing the extensive, white hallway that expanded for what felt like miles.

Balloon stuck his head out of the window, watching his phone fall to the concrete below. “Dude?! ” He shouted at Nickel, snapping his head around. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here, Suitcase told me you’d probably pull some dumb shit!”

Nickel pressed his hands on Balloon’s chest, stuttering out incomprehensible nonsense, profusely begging for Balloon to not leave. Balloon wrapped his hands around Nickel's wrists and began trying to wrestle him off while they both began inching closer to the door, all without realizing. While Balloon wasn’t necessarily shouting now, he was trying to keep calm— although it was hard because of Nickel begging and pleading for Balloon not to leave.

“You can’t leave, you can’t fucking go out there! The phones are listening— you’ll be taken; you’ll be hit by the fucking truck!” Nickel’s grip on Balloon’s wrists tightened.

Balloon felt his body loosen. “...Truck?” He tilted his head inquisitively. He waited for Nickel to calm down. For what felt like minutes, Nickel had only grown worse. He continued to tighten his grip around Balloon’s wrists, pushing and pulling him away from the front door and begging through tears for him to not leave or else he’d be hurt. Nickel was pleading for Balloon’s presence, crying that he didn’t want to see anymore blood, and that he didn’t want to have him disappear either.

After a few more sloppy cries from Nickel, Balloon found himself shaking his arms out of Nickel’s hands and assuring Nickel that he wouldn’t leave. He began rubbing on his wrists to ease the stress, while listening to Nickel’s choked prays and cries.

Nickel was on his knees in front of Balloon’s shoes, crying and clawing at the toe caps and outsoles. If Balloon didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that the man was worshiping at his feet. This was not worship, however. The sight before Balloon shook him, more than anything in the past had, to the core. Balloon felt the metaphorical cogs in his head crank harder than they had been throughout this entire ordeal.

Everyone knew that Nickel relied on his sarcasm and snarky comments. He was loutish and mean-spirited, always thinking of himself before others. Sure he gave Nickel some leeway to become a better person in the third season, but the permanent scars that he left on Suitcase was a key reason as to why Baseball and Balloon drifted away from him. Nickel never seemed to need a friend; he had his arc. He was done. He didn’t need anyone anymore— he would always say this even after amending his and the team’s friendships.

This man must have been beaten beyond repair for him to be groveling on the floor in a puddle of tears in front of anyone. Especially Balloon. Despite all of that though, he still couldn’t discern whether he wanted to help or not.

“I don’t know,” Balloon hid his frowning mouth with his hand, “I need to go. I have to tell Suitcase that my phone is out of commission now.”

Nickel slapped his hand around Balloon’s ankle, his pleas refusing to falter. “You don’t know what it’s like, Balloon,” his blubbering worsened, making his throat creak out moans for words. “I see shit— I can’t get the… The truck out of my head. I see it every night! And, and—”

Balloon kicked Nickel’s hand away, almost kicking him in the face. “You are so insensitive, you fucking idiot!” Balloon hollered. “Yeah, I may not know what it’s like, but you know who does?” Balloon walked to the front door, gripping the doorknob. “Suitcase knows, you prick! Call me rude or mean for saying this, but it’s genuinely a suggestion that you might have to wrap your head around: maybe this is just karma for literally traumatizing someone over a nonsensical reality show!”

His hand wrapped around the doorknob began to tremble, jostling it lightly due to how loose it had been since Test Tube tried to bust it open.

“I don’t feel safe alone with you. I promise I’ll come back tomorrow with someone. Then you can talk about it with me,” Balloon opened the door without a goodbye, then stepped outside.

Nickel pushed himself up and stumbled to the window, watching and waiting for Balloon to pull out of the driveway. He wouldn’t make it. He’d be hit by the Meeple trucks. He’d be taken away, for experimentation or whatever the fuck those heartless and conniving scumbags did to miserable idiots like Balloon.

But there were no trucks. Just Balloon shaking his head and mumbling as he slammed his car door and sped off. He didn’t retrieve his phone, which meant he absolutely had to come back tomorrow. Nickel sighed shakily and gripped the edge of the window— the frame dug at his inner knuckles satisfyingly. The headlights of Balloon’s car faded down the road and disappeared into the dark of night.

Fast food on his dining table sat still while collecting the heavy, stressful air. Nickel was envious of inanimate objects like them.

Loud banging erupted from outside the front door, nearly making Nickel jump out of his skin. Knowing that knock, it was probably his neighbor that resided in the apartment next to him. Even though Nickel considered the two of them to be close, they never really spoke recently; especially since Nickel became a little recluse for a few months for something that made him dissociate every time he tried to remember what it was.

Weak steps floated him to the door, wobbling with each feeble footfall. Once he finally brought his sore knuckles to the doorknob, he twisted it (then he lifted it up— the doorknob had been busted for quite a while now.)

In the doorway was a short man wearing a brown top. His arms were folded, and his face was burning with annoyance.

“Oh,” Nickel chuckled nervously. “Hey, Box.”

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Nickel’s neighbor had never felt the need to confront him about his obnoxious volume even though he lived right next to him and the walls were practically paper thin when it came to sound, which led Nickel to completely forget that he even had Box living right next to him. Yet there he was, towering over Nickel in the front doorway with a stern scowl. Normally Box was straight-faced and unwavering in times of stress, but tonight seemed to be the tipping point for his leniency.

Nickel opened the door as wide as he could, gesturing his arm to invite Box in. He curled his lips to an awkward smile and wheezed a nervous chuckle. “Come in?”

Box huffed and shook his head, refusing to enter the apartment. He kept his arms crossed, glowering at Nickel disappointedly. Nickel continued to wave his arm slightly, urging Box to come in. This was the quietest Nickel’s apartment had ever been. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear Box’s thoughts.

He would give anything to know just what exactly Box was thinking; which was probably just angry scolding towards Nickel for having a really loud crying fit earlier when it was getting super late. As a matter of fact, the only thing Nickel knew about Box was that he worked for a branch of law, usually leaving his house early in the morning in a big brown trench coat and coming back at ridiculous hours of the night. Whether he was a lawyer, paralegal or anything else, God could only know— Nickel didn’t really care about his neighbors personal lives. And he certainly didn’t care about Box’s.

Box raised his eyebrows and tilted his head down, looking at Nickel rather expectantly. After a few more seconds of Nickel stammering and refusing to take Box’s no for an answer, he sighed and took a few steps inside.

After a few notes of silence, Nickel scratched the back of his neck as if the way out of such an awkward confrontation would be hidden beneath his surreal, clammy skin. “I can tell you think my apartment is a mess, so please spare me from that.”

Box snapped his fingers just as Nickel shut the apartment door, pointing to the fast food on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, it’s fresh.” Nickel crossed his arms over his chest. “Balloon just came over. I mean, not like you’d care right? You’re just here to tell me to keep from being so fucking loud!” Nickel’s grip on himself tightened. “Then you’ll leave. Then I’ll be alone.”

If Box raised his eyebrows anymore they definitely would have shot through the fucking roof. He snatched Nickel by the arm, threw him on the living room couch, then marched back to the kitchen. Nickel would have protested the whole thing, but Box shoved the food into Nickel’s mouth before he even could.

The trenchcoated man then took out his own cell phone. It wasn’t a Meeple made phone, but rather some other sort of brand. Seeing that made Nickel’s heart stop palpitating. While Nickel chewed and swallowed down the food shoved in his mouth, he watched Box type in a flurry on his phone. Then the man turned it, screen facing Nickel.

Box wrote a message on the notes app.

I’ve been trying to get my own research into Meeple, but when I get close to something I hit a wall. Help me help you. You might be pathetic and small but I’d like to figure out just what the hell Cobs and his goons are planning.

Nickel grimaced. “You heard my psychotic rambling to Balloon that clearly, huh?”

Obviously having a neighbor hear his emotion-induced blubbering was embarrassing, but for some reason Nickel felt at ease with that. Someone would finally be taking him seriously, even if it was because he experienced what seemed to be the lowest low he’d ever experienced in his life.

Though, Nickel had no clue what would come to him if he continued down this path.

“But this is going to be a risk I’m willing to take,” Nickel clenched his fist. “You said you did some research into Meeple?”

Finally someone who would listen.

“So you know that Meeple’s phones are listening to their owners, right?” Nickel felt an acidic taste in his mouth seeing Box nod in response. “This is fucking nuts,” Nickel laughed while running a hand through his silvery hair. He felt tears prick his eyes again. The feeling of the rise of a panic attack scratched at his lungs.

“I knew I wasn’t crazy. I’m always the sane one!” Nickel grabbed Box’s coat and looked into his eyes. They were dark, unable to be figured out. His lips never parted for anything, and never let out a peep for even his closest peer (whoever that may be.)

Box was rather tall. A familiar height. A homely yet nauseating ache boiled within Nickel.

Sharp, pulsating pain raced through Nickel’s temples, as if his own head were split in two with the sharp jolt of a bullet. He let go of Box’s coat and slapped his hands over his eyes and let out an abrupt groan. When looking at the man in front of him, the taller figure in his home, he couldn’t help but envision those bright lights that night. Watching that man on the road, who just that night he became rather close to, bend and break to an absolute hodgepodge of blood, gore, and green sludge.

Nickel’s stomach flipped, rocking like a ship on the stormy sea.

“I need to sit,” Nickel kept his hands over his eyes. He couldn’t handle looking at Box at the moment. “You’re too similar. I can’t look at you right now.”

The couch welcomed Nickel’s body with a warm embrace. “So these phones are listening to us. What could they possibly gain by kidnapping both Knife and Test Tube? And that man I saw… He looked a lot like OJ. And that fucking slime…” Nickel couldn’t help but trailing off to steal some air from the space around him.

“Sure Test Tube built those lookalike robots, but what could they gain from even working for Meeple? She’s an academic genius but you’d think they’d want nothing to do with her after all this shit. Especially Knife.”

Something was set next to Nickel on the couch. He peeked through his hands, looking at Box’s phone on the cushioned seat next to him. There was new text in the notes app Box had been texting on.

I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I do know that Meeple is wanting to take absolute control of their consumers for something bigger; Something greater. We will definitely need more manpower for this investigation. You’ll have to suck it up and try to talk with Balloon, Suitcase and Baseball.

The thought of sharing everything that Knife explained to Box made Nickel want to puke. “Trust me, it’s way too much to explain right now.” He pushed the phone away from him. “But I guess I can try to talk to them without having my body shut down and want to have an aneurysm,” he rolled his eyes, “but it’ll be hard.”

Just then, Box bent down and wrapped his arms around Nickel’s own, embracing the shorter man.

And at that moment, Nickel could feel tears reform. Though, not as panicked or sharp as last time. More like some vague warmth that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Hesitantly, Nickel wrapped his arms around Box. It was almost comfortable enough to lull him to sleep.

Nickel’s eyes looked back to the phone, noticing more text that he didn’t read before.

I’ll be with you every step of the way.

The two parted, and Box dusted himself off before grabbing his phone off of the couch. Then, it began to ring. He showed the contact calling to Nickel.

“Your department? You should take that, then.” Nickel gave a sheepish laugh. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” he lied.

Box gave a stiff nod and answered the phone, looking around and walking to the bathroom.

Nickel held his hands directly in his line of sight; Palms up and fingers spread with both of his eyes analyzing each crease and scratch on his hands. How odd, he found himself thinking, that these hands had been abused by their own body. Bitten, sliced, bloodied and bruised all from a man who cowered in fear. It was ironic that Nickel used to be the one who was never afraid to get his hands dirty to get what he wanted.

Now he was keeping himself from leaving the apartment. Keeping himself from going outside, and refusing to deal with any of the shit he saw that night.

But if he had to be honest with himself, he didn’t like any version of himself. He wasn’t a fan of putting on a sarcastic attitude on the show, and his heart didn’t feel right while staying in bed and hiding from everything that had been going on recently in his life. Weirdly enough, the only time he did feel like he could be himself was with one certain man.

The man he saw die months ago.

Nickel punched the couch cushion and found himself groaning again. There was no way that would be the same Knife ever again. There was no way Nickel would be the same person ever again. Days could pass. The moon could fall and the sun could rise, both countless amounts of times, yet nothing could ever go back to the way they were before shit hit the fan.

When he looked up, he noticed the sky began to grow just slightly lighter. It was empty of clouds. Just the lonely sun, soon to peek over the horizon to meet Nickel with an awkward glare to the face. To this, Nickel turned around to his bathroom where Box had walked.

The door was cracked open. He could see Box standing, holding the phone to his ear. He hadn’t spoken this entire time, which was to be expected of him. Just at that moment, he opened the door and hung up the call, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Balloon’s coming back today,” Nickel informed him. “Him and Suitcase will want to know just what the hell is going on. If I have a breakdown, you’ll have to help me.”

Box was still inexpressive as ever. But the thumbs up he gave was enough to settle almost all of Nickel’s doubts at that moment.

Test Tube kicked the door down and held Trophy’s head tightly in her grasp. He swung back and forth as the air pushed him while she ran.

“Can you slow the hell down woman?! I can barely fucking function if I feel like I’ll vomit!” Trophy gave an exaggerated gag.

She scoffed. “You don’t have a stomach, therefore you cannot even vomit! Zip it so I can focus!” She slid, catching herself on the wall to follow the sharp turn of the hallway. “We have to hurry and get Knife so that we can all escape this hellhole facility.”

Trophy did want to spat something back, but weird noises from behind them made him think twice. Loud thunking and a wave of metallic stomping chased behind them as Test Tube forced herself to continue running.

“Oh dear fucking lord,” Trophy gasped.

For once in her life, Test Tube decided that her curiosity would kill her if she decided to check just what exactly was going on.

She could barely push her words out between gasps for air. “Just have to get Knife and drag his ass the hell out of here!”

“You sure we can do that, Tube? There’s quite a bunch of MePhone guards behind us!” Trophy hollered.

“God damn it, Trophy, I was kind of hoping not to know what was behind me so that my mind wouldn’t get side tracked!” But her efforts hadn’t seemed to be all in vain, as her eyes found the very closet where she not only found the phone in her pocket, but forced Knife to stay in.

“Ah, there it is at the end of the hallway! Knife is in that closet—”

Her body was forced to the wall by a jolt and a loud rumble. Every thought that raced through her mind was interrupted by a loud boom, and the floor that she was now laying on rumbled. The air before her was warm, like she was right in front of a fireplace.

“Holy shit!” Trophy exclaimed. “What the fuck was that? An explosion?!”

Test Tube pushed herself up, quickly looking behind her just to satisfy her nosiness. MePhones piled upon MePhones were behind her. Wires were exposed, and the closet door was almost folded in half and on top of the robotic bodies and parts. Faint buzzes and sparks came from the piled robots.

Smoke poured out of the closet, and a figure stood within it with glowing eyes.

Knife was standing, pointing his palm out towards where the door used to be. His palm had smoke coming out of it as well. From the look on his face, he obviously had no clue what was going on. When he saw Test Tube, he lowered his arm.

“ Now can we get the fuck out of here?!” Knife hollered.

“Whatever you say! You’re the one who blew up the fucking closet door!” Test Tube stood up shakily.

“Good. Follow me, I think I know where we have to go,” Knife rolled his shoulders and started jetting to another direction with Test tube following close behind.

With hot air burning in Test Tube’s lungs, she decided to shove a single question out before the two turned down an unfamiliar hallway. It was possibly one of the heaviest questions she had in mind at that moment. “What the hell even happened back there?!”

Knife refused to look back at her, but shook his head. “I have no fucking clue. I just heard the commotion and reflexively stuck my hand out and then this weird fucking energy blast came out of my palm and shot the door clean off!” He pushed a double door open, leading the party to a stairwell. He pointed upwards. “Stairs. We have to climb them.”

Once he started running up the stairs, Test Tube grabbed her knees and sighed. “Goodness gracious, hold on.”

After Knife walked back down, more machinery-like noises from more Meeple guards were heard from the hallway.

“I hear them! Those fuckers just keep coming,” Trophy’s head rocked as he shouted.

Knife growled. “We don’t have all day you fucking inactive nerd!” Knife then picked her up and slung her over his shoulders  as if she weighed nothing, making her yelp. He then started climbing the stairs.

“So what’s up these stairs anyway?” Test Tube held tightly around Knife’s body. “Just what is your grand idea, hot shot?”

“Will you quit asking me questions?! I’m thinking!” Knife hissed back. His rough breaths were audible and awkward when Test Tube shut up. When they reached the top, Knife set Test Tube down and burst through a rickety door at the top of the stairwell, leading them all to the roof of the Meeple building.

It  had been a long while since any of them saw natural light, whether it be from the sun or moon. The sky was dark blue, showing that the sun had barely even woken up. Test Tube immediately ran to the edge of the roof and looked down.

This building was at least over fifty stories tall. She could barely even see the vehicles parked below.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…” Trophy groaned. “Get me away from this shit, I don’t wanna possibly fall to my doom! I’ll shatter to bits and pieces!”

Test Tube backed away from the edge and tapped her chin. “Okay. We are stuck fifty stories in the air with possibly almost a hundred deadly android robots that are trying to hunt us down and hand us over to a crazy egotistical maniac that wants to use my knowledge of aliens to try to help his company take power over said aliens…” She scratched her scalp. “I have no fucking clue what to do! It does NOT sound like your typical fucking Monday afternoon!”

Knife shut the door and pushed his own body in front of it. “Okay can we please just put our heads together and think about this and act with the limited time we have?! Obviously my body alone can’t keep all the fucking robots from getting us when they get here, so we have to think of something,” Knife leaned against the door and looked to the sky.

Once again, Test Tube scratched at her hair. “I don’t know! I don’t know, I’m stumped!” She fell to her knees. “I’m really fucking stumped here!” She reached in her pocket and brought out 3GS. “3GS, can you help us? What the hell do we do?!”

The phone buzzed, then showed a pixelated face on a grey background. It looked around, then looked back to Test Tube. “I’m… Sorry, Test Tube. It seems the only way out of this would be to jump down safely somehow.”

Test Tube stood up and went back to the edge, looking down and scanning the parking lot below. Then, she sharply turned to the scruffy man leaning on the door. “We need to climb down.”

After some quiet deliberation, Knife shook his hands in aggravation. “Fine! We’ll climb down!” He marched from the door and stood next to Test Tube and looked down to the parking lot.

He wasn’t really expecting everything on the ground to look as small as they were. He gulped and shook his head. “This is fucking crazy. If we fall and splatter like some sort of egg drop then I’ll kill your ass.”

“It will be fine, just don’t look down and make absolutely sure that whatever you place your feet on can actually withstand your weight,” Test Tube wagged her finger and dangled herself over the edge. “Also, climb next to me. That way if you actually do fall, you won’t take me with you.” She took off her socks and shoved them into her pocket so that her feet wouldn’t slip when climbing.

“You’re a huge fucking pain, don’t say that shit!” Knife barked.

“Do I not get a fucking say in this?!” Trophy yelled. “I’m left to dangle off of yor fucking side with no input whatsoever?!”

“Hush up already and let me focus so that nobody dies okay?!” Test Tube waved at him. She felt severely lucky that she spent the last few years of her life learning to fix her depth perception problem. She never saw herself having to climb down a fifty story skyscraper just before sunrise.

How unlucky of her.

She carefully rested her foot on the side of a window, putting all of her trust in the caulk in the windows. After a few seconds, she pushed her limbs against the sides of the window to hold her weight. Her body struggled to find balance, but as she readjusted herself slightly, her body stood perfectly still. Wind briskly blew past her, making her hair slightly fly around her face. She looked to her side, watching Knife climb down into place on the window ledge right next to her. Just like that, they had one floor done.

“See? Just maybe around forty nine more to go! We should be down by sunrise!” Test Tube smiled with sweat beading her forehead and arms. “Easy as pie.”

“I hope you fucking fall,” Knife seethed.

Chapter Text

Just as Knife’s feet hit the concrete of the parking lot, the sun illuminated the sky and revealed a thick canopy of grey rain clouds. He turned to the building he climbed down and grabbed Test Tube’s waist, helping her down safely and keeping Trophy steady on her belt. When she was finally on the ground, she dusted herself off.

“We will have to get to cover quickly.” She squinted and looked out into the distance. “I think I see a city down the road. We will have to steal a car before the MePhone guards get down here.”

“I’m tired of messing with cars,” Trophy scoffed as Test Tube began making her way to an old looking car. “How are you even going to get it to run?”

After a few seconds, Test Tube popped the door open and gripped Knife’s wrist and threw him into the passenger seat. She patted his shoulder. “Sit tight while I try to get this engine running,” her hand slid from his shoulder to the car’s door. “If something happens you can come out, but you should sit in here so it’s quicker to leave.”

Before he could share his own thoughts, she slammed the door shut. He kept his eyes on her, watching her jog from the side of the car to the front, then forced himself to look away when she lifted the hood. Oddly enough, his mind wasn’t racing. His heart wasn’t beating anxiously, nor was it pumping adrenaline. By now he’d be panicking on the inside, but he was calm.

That is, until his eyes shifted and he got a good look at himself in the side view mirror.

He wasn’t one to dwell on the aesthetic of his eyes, but instead of seeing his usual dark irises that would blend with his pupils, he saw a lighter hue. A haunting display of otherworldly greyish yellow stared back at him in a similar shock.

Yeah. Now he was more than a little startled.

His body desperately wanted to make a scene, though all he could do was breathe deeply and lean closer to get a better look. His calloused fingertips widened his eyelids so he could examine his eyeballs better. He could feel his heart finally start to race. Stock-still, he was still unable to get a single thought in his head.

Surely Test Tube would have pointed this change out if she noticed. She would have made some sort of snarky comment, and yet she didn’t even feel the need to make any confused looks.

When he heard the hood of the car lower, he quickly turned his head to face out the window to avoid Test Tube’s face. The car started, and she quickly hopped into the seat and set Trophy’s head in the space between them. Knife continued to keep his face looking out of the window, keeping his unrecognizable eyes on the Meeple building outside.

Soon after, the party sped out of the parking lot and onto the road, driving in the direction of the city. The ride was quiet. Knife was used to focusing on the sound of the pavement flexing the tires of the vehicles he rode in.

“Knife, you are a little more quiet than usual.”

But apparently this wasn’t as simple of a task as he expected.

“I’m fine, Tube,” he grumbled, keeping his face directly facing the window to watch nature run by.

“We just busted our ass out of a prison and you don’t want to talk?” She scoffed.

“Don’t you have that cracked ass phone in your pocket that you stole?” Knife spat. “And the head of your own robot? Talk to the peanut gallery. I need some space,” his body sulked in the seat. “Can we at least stop somewhere with a bathroom so I can clean up or something real quick? I feel greasy as hell.”

For a few seconds, Knife's lips quivered. Letting such annoyance fly from his mouth without a filter to stop it and having trouble getting a simple apology out was quite pathetic in his own eyes.

“You are right,” Test Tube finally said, “you deserve to get cleaned up before I even think about forcing you to speak. There might be a gas station up here that we can stop at for you, then we can continue driving.”

Knife let out a short hum of understanding and crossed his arms. Minutes passed, which certainly seemed more like an eternity to Knife since he was stuck either looking at the bland grass next to the road or his own unfamiliar eyes in the side view mirror.

“Here,” Test Tube muttered as the car slowed to a stop, “the bathroom is right there, so you can use it while I go into the shop and—”

That was all Knife needed to hear. He threw the door open and ran out, feeling his veins pumping pure energy. On the side of the gas station were the bathroom doors, each with a different sign. He pushed himself into the family restroom and locked the door from the inside, hastily flipping on the bathroom lights and rushing to the sink. He leaned closer to the mirror, force feeding himself the visual that was looking back at him.

A dash of red near his hairline caught his eye.

Now usually he would dye his hair silver— bleaching it and using his favorite hair dye to get it that perfect sheen. After a bit, his natural black roots would grow back.

Though, his roots weren’t the normal black: They were a familiar cherry red.

If not for the tightening of his throat, he would have screamed in horror. The sight wasn’t just harrowing, but his own bones felt hardened; He felt the sudden urge to rip his hair out no matter the patchiness it left.

“You got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” he uttered raspily. He barely even recognized himself as a human.

His knuckles on the sink tightened.

“Fuck… Fuck you, fuck you!” He smacked his scalp and gripped his hair as tight as he could. As he stumbled backwards, keeping track of himself through the mirror. Looking at his hand, he brought two fingers to his mouth and shoved them down his throat.

Kneeling over the bathroom toilet, he began to press on the back of his tongue where his throat began. When that didn’t work, he balled his hand to a fist and slammed it against the wall.

Soft knocking on the bathroom door interrupted his panic-stricken moment.

“Knife, are you okay?” Test Tube’s voice came from outside. “I was able to get some food with some cash I found in a wallet I found in the car’s glove box, and then I heard you screaming when I came out...”

Knife leaned his back against the wall and gasped, trying to catch his breath from the gagging he went through previously. “I’m fine,” he lied, “just… you know how it is!”

“Oh… ‘kay?” Test Tube shouted back. “Just try to come out soon, we need to go since we are still fairly close to Meeple.”

Nothing he thought of would be an appropriate response. How the hell do you tell someone that the robot that they made that also went on a killing spree was slowly taking over your entire body? The physical change was hard enough for him as is, so he had no clue how Test Tube would take it.

Would she kill him?

“Buy me sunglasses and a hat,” Knife shouted.

“What?” Test Tube chuckled nervously.

“Sunglasses and a hat. I don’t want people noticing me. You might not care about yourself being recognized, but I’m nervous about myself,” he lied once more. “Please, if you have any of that cash left and an ounce of respect for me, you’d do it.”

“Alright, fine! I’ll get you your little gifts, damn.” Test Tube chuckled again.

He stood up and started washing his hands and face, continuing to wait for Test Tube. Soon enough, she knocked on the bathroom door again to tell him that she had the items he wanted. He unlocked the door slowly and creaked it open, sticking his hand out to grab the hat and glasses.

The hat was a dusty green baseball cap, and while the sunglasses looked cheap as all hell, they were dark enough to keep anyone from noticing his odd irises.

After throwing them both on, he slowly stepped out of the bathroom and saw Test Tube standing with her hands on her hips and a big smile across her face. “Those fit okay?”

Knife lowered the bill of his hat, hiding the roots of his hair better. “Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s just hit the road, please. I’m tired.”

She nodded softly and made her way to the parked car, and Knife slowly followed suit, nervously playing with the cap on his head to make sure it covered the red in his hair.

Perhaps he was fucked.

Chapter Text

Balloon never showed up.

“What a fucking liar, that guy,” Nickel crossed his arms and sunk in the passenger seat.

The car radio’s volume was low and playing soothing instrumentals, which were almost cushioning to Nickel’s ears. His eyes, however, were squinting with anger. From his peripheral, he could see Box focused on the road ahead with a small smirk of amusement.

“Balloon stood us up and you’re finding it funny?” Nickel pursed his lips and looked out of the car window to the neighborhood that Box was pulling into. Beige stucco houses lined the streets with many decorations that differed from each lawn. One would be bright and colorful, while another would seem more proper with less decor.

Nickel then noticed that the car was actually pulling into a driveway, slowing to park.

“What’s this house?” Nickel leaned forward.

The house was painted grey rather than being beige or tan like the rest of the neighborhood with absolutely nothing to decorate the front of the house at all. Despite that, the lawn seemed to be neatly trimmed and well taken care of.

Box turned the car off and stepped out, and Nickel followed soon after. As Box walked to the front door, Nickel continued shooting questions out.

“Do you also live here? Why would you own a house if you already live next to me? It looks a little too gothic for your tastes. Wh—”

Box turned on his heel and glared at Nickel, then placed his pointer finger over his own mouth.

“Shh,” he hissed.

Nickel decided that it would be best if he zipped his lips. Box shook his head and turned back to the door, pushed a circular doorbell, and took a step back. Some rustling came from inside the house, with some childlike laughter. From inside the house, a light voice was telling someone to calm down and to ‘stop bouncing on the furniture or else they’d break it!’

When the door opened, a fluffy haired brunette was revealed. She had on a yellow headband and stood there with a big smile, waving to Box and greeting him with warmth. She was wearing a baggy brown sweater tucked into comfortable looking black bootcut jeans, wrapped snugly with a yellow belt that matched the band on her head.

Nickel’s heart almost dropped at the sight of Suitcase.

“Hello there, Box! Everything alright?” She chirped. Then, when she looked behind him and noticed Nickel, her smile fell. “Oh… Uh… Nickel!” Her smile turned fake, “I wasn't expecting you!”

She was quickly pushed to the side by two redheaded kids in matching red shirts and green shorts. “Daddy! Daddy Box!” They both reached their hands up to him, hugging him tightly. “Suitcase said we wouldn’t be seeing you for a few more days! What a nice surprise!”

Box had a wide smile on his face as he let both of the Cherries hang on each of his arms, listening as they started to dump information about their day with their babysitter to him. He listened to them, nodding his head often. However, he soon shushed them and looked up to Suitcase and gestured to the inside of her house.

“Ah!” Suitcase steepled her hands and opened the front door more. “Yes, let’s… all… go inside.” She shot a glare at Nickel before letting Box carry the Cherries inside, with Nickel following sheepishly.

The inside was cozy and the walls were aligned with many old paintings, as well as dark knick knacks lining shelves. In the living room was a black sofa in front of a fireplace not in use, with a TV mounted to the wall over it. Cartoons were playing, muted so as to not distract any of the adults now in the house.

Nickel’s muscles tensed as Suitcase shut the front door and turned to Box. She was obviously trying to keep from acknowledging Nickel’s existence any more than she already had to. Nickel knew what kind of game that was, as he used to play it all the time. Though, he would consider himself a slightly changed man nowadays.

Suitcase let out a deep sigh and rubbed her shoulder. “So, Box! You came back earlier than expected.”

In response, the man in the coat sat the kids down on the ground and raised an eyebrow. Then he tilted his head towards Nickel and crossed his arms. For a bit, Suitcase’s brows furrowed with worry; along with Nickel’s. He could tell that Suitcase wasn’t too keen on having to interact with him, and he wasn’t going to argue if she outright refused to. 

“You want me to talk to him privately, don’t you?” She hissed through a grimace.

With that finally said, Box gave two thumbs up and took the kids out of the living room into some other room in the back of the house as they ran around his ankles and laughed heartily.

Nickel could swear that the look on Suitcase’s face would have burned a hole right through him. That scowl was a face he was used to seeing plastered on the people he’s let down before.

“Well,” Suitcase started, “I already know about the whole throwing Balloon’s phone out of the window thing.”

“Just as unassertive as usual, huh Suitcase?” Nickel folded his arms. “There’s a perfectly good explanation for that, by the way.”

She had visible confusion on her face. It quickly shifted to anger. “Oh! Like how there was a good explanation for how you treated me on Inanimate Insanity? Like how it left me with a long lasting disorder that keeps me awake at night?”

“You know I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t okay,” she scowled, “and I won’t ever accept your apologies. Not only did you traumatize me, but Balloon as well. And now, all of a sudden, you’re trying to weasel your way back into our lives by claiming some weird shit is going on!”

Nickel quickly splayed his hands up in front of him. “Alright, let’s calm down please. I have a headache—”

“I will NOT calm down!” She straightened her back, looking Nickel right in his eyes. They were brown and fiery, fueled by years of unvented anger. “You’ve left permanent mental scars on me and you don’t get to come back because of shitty conspiracy theories! NEWSFLASH, Nickel! Every tech company spies on you!”

Another impulsive thought shot through Nickel’s head. “I lost Knife and I don’t want to lose someone else that I love!” Nickel shouted, closing his eyes and covering his ears. “I consider you a friend, Suitcase, and I know I acted shitty on the show! You don’t have to forgive me, but please just help me find where Test Tube is so I can at least know she’s safe!”

Once Nickel heard that Suitcase stopped talking, he continued to beg the woman in front of her. “I completely understand that you don’t forgive me but if you won’t do this for me, please just do it for Knife because I can’t fucking stand the feeling of knowing that Test Tube’s still missing because I couldn’t step in that night!”

He knew it was ironic of him to cry and scream to beg to be treated like a human, but he knew that Suitcase wouldn’t do it if the sole reason was just Nickel’s worry.

“Test Tube?” She muttered curiously. “Why were she and Knife together in the first place?”

Nickel opened his eyes and slowly lowered his hands from his head. “They, uh,” he sniffled, “they were partners. Not friends, but not romantic, you know?”

“Yes, but why ?” She began stressing.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you the whole story quickly, but all I can even say with certainty was that Meeple was up to something absolutely no-fucking-good. The circumstances brought the two of them together and they were so close to finding out how to stop them and Meeple killed Knife and took Test Tube into custody.”

The sound of the Cherries playing in the other room was able to cut the silence between the two of them.

Suitcase’s eyes darted to the side, eyeing the sofa in the room. “Sit,” she pointed lightly, “I’ll get you some water.”

A deep sigh of relief came from Nickel as his shoulders fell. Finally, he could rest— and on a high quality looking couch of all things.

Right as Nickel sat down and let himself be hugged by the cushion, Suitcase came out of the kitchen with a plastic bottle of water with foggy condensation on it from being refrigerated. She handed it out to Nickel, who took it with a small shiver from how cold it was in his palm. He opened it quickly and took a sip, letting the liquid quickly rinse his throat from the anxieties that were stuck in it before.

Suitcase sat beside him, facing him. In Nickel’s mind, the image of Knife sitting next to him flashed quickly, making him shake his head to shoot the image out.

“When OJ died,” Suitcase folded her hands on her legs, “the Cherries were understandably distraught.” Her voice was soft; like how she used to be in the beginning of season two, but this time with a grave undertone.

“Because the Cherries lost their adoptive father, Box offered to adopt them in OJ’s stead. It took all of them a while to adjust, but soon the Cherries got used to it and even began calling him dad as fondly as they did with OJ.”

Nickel instinctively looked down to the bottle in his hands receiving that information, now realizing what Suitcase was getting at.

“I’ve been lucky enough to be able to see them after the whole rampage that Fan went on. I’m lucky to call myself their babysitter, along with Balloon when I’m not available. While we do have fun when I’m babysitting them, I can still see in their eyes that they miss OJ very much.” She looked up from her hands to face Nickel eye to eye. This time instead of a troubled face, there was a delicate look of sympathy.

“OJ was never really open about the fact that he adopted the Cherries so that the two of them could avoid the eye of the public. He wasn’t comfortable with the two of them being bombarded by paparazzi due to being on such a big show for even a little bit, so he kept them safe in the hotel with him and Paper.”

Nickel looked back to her, noticing that her lips were slightly quivering.

“I don’t like you, but knowing that you and Test Tube both lost someone you care about, just like the Cherries, is frightening to me. I wouldn’t wish that on even my worst enemy.” She quickly blinked, presumably to push back tears. “Even though it was years ago it’s still obvious that they’re still trying to learn to mourn— still trying to get over the periods of sadness they both have.” Their eyes met once more, sharing a similar sense of sorrow.

He had no clue that OJ had even adopted the Cherries. That whole dynamic was very well hidden to not only him, but to possibly the rest of the cast.

“He and Paper did a damn fine job of protecting them, then,” Nickel said while setting the water bottle down on the short coffee table in front of him. “And I can tell you do an excellent job babysitting.”

“And Box is an amazing father to them,” Suitcase nodded subtly, now with a wistful smile and shining eyes that looked like she was about to start sobbing at any minute.

The two of them sat on the couch for a few more minutes while listening to the clock on the wall tick on and on, counting each second of each minute. Nickel looked around the living room, taking in the dark decor once more. Upon first entering Suitcase’s house, he felt on edge due to the aesthetic choice of the place; but now he could truly understand it. All of that shit he put Suitcase through was not acceptable by any means.

“I was ignorant,” Nickel admitted clearly. “I thought you were a threat to my strategy and I shot you down every moment I could. I thought I was a strong leader because of it, but I was wrong.”

Suitcase’s posture shrunk at those words. “I understand,” she sighed. “I really wish I could help you, but Balloon and I are just too busy with our own lives. Me with babysitting and my job as an embalmer, Balloon with school now…” her voice trailed off. “I know Box just brought you here to talk things through with me. And now I think I sort of understand the kind of journey you might go on after you leave this house.” She blinked away tears, but her eyes went round. “You do realize this might be a suicide mission? You could die trying to find Test Tube if they outright killed Knife.”

“I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant I got to keep Test Tube safe for Knife’s sake. He’d want Test Tube safe.” Nickel’s face flushed. “And I have to at least do something worthwhile in my life— Something other than ruining someone’s life.”

Suitcase’s eyes darted back to the ground in front of her. “Don’t die then,” she stood up and made her way to the hallway where Box and the Cherries went, “and don’t let Box die either.”

He smirked back at her. "I won't."

Chapter Text

Ego straightened his tie and quickly cracked his neck, unblinking and with his smile unwavering. “You mean to tell me you were able to lose them despite them climbing down our building in plain sight?” His voice was just between a whisper and a holler— projecting his voice yet not necessarily screaming through his smiling teeth. “Do you all understand the gravity of this situation?” 

Different colors of MePhone bots with various wounds mumbled to themselves, beeping in ways only people who worked with them for years could understand.

“Not only is this closet needing to be repaired now,” Ego lowered his hand toward the bent and broken closet door that laid on the floor next to broken MePhones, “but we’ve wasted MePhone versions that we’ll have to waste money on to repair. I thought Steve built you all to be more competent than your older versions?!” He roared.

After letting out his reprimands, he demanded the robots take their brethren’s parts and take them to the repair rooms. If they weren’t able to be repaired, then they would be scrapped for newer, better models. The team of MePhones began to carry the battered remains of their disposable friends and hauled them off in obedience to the commands given to them. There was no arguing, nor any protest.

“Is there a problem with the way I build my MePhones?”

Stern words coming from behind Ego made him turn swiftly on the heels of his shoes, coming eye to eye with his boss.

“Steve!” Ego stretched his arms out in a facade of pleasure, then held one out for a handshake. “I didn’t know you were coming in today!”

His green turtleneck was a little more casual than Ego’s orange shirt and tie, and the lanyard that usually would hang around his neck was now tucked into his pants pocket. Bright yellow hair was curled above the silver wire spectacles on his nose.

“It’s ‘Cobs’ to you,” The man’s glasses gleamed as he let a scowl scrunch his lips and brows. “And I emailed you a few weeks ago that I was coming in for our monthly meeting no matter your response due to you being busy with…” his eyes snapped to the scuffed up floor that was covered in small metal and robotic bits; the leftovers of the blown up robots, “...ruining the machines I’ve invested so much money in building for your experimentation.”

The absence of a handshake made Ego lower his hand and shove it into his pocket in embarrassment. “And your patronage wasn’t for just nothing! I think you’ll be happy to know we’ve actually made quite the progress in our plan of having Meeple products being the norm around the world!”

“Actually—”

“And!” Ego wagged a finger, “we’ve been able to collect data from all around the country! So if you’d like to continue doing business with your most successful Meeple branch, I’d be more than happy to convene! Let’s head to my office to talk more about any other opportunities that could come up.”

Cobs scratched the back of his head and sighed, following Ego down the hall and to the elevator, proudly showing the higher-up most of his achievements from experiments through the windows that lined the white hall. He gave no wiggle room for Cobs to inject his opinion into the conversation, nor would he accept it.

The men stepped into the elevator just after the doors tugged open, with Cobs visibly marveling at the slickness of the lift— not to Ego’s surprise at all. His Meeple facility was more modern than Cob’s, despite it being in the sky. While Cob’s Meeple building was a little more focused on comfort and luring its visitors to a false sense of security, Ego’s building was designed to make potential visitors get the impression that the company worked at a lightning pace.

Once the correct floor button was pressed, the two men were quickly lifted up to Ego’s personal office. Since the building was pretty tall, the lift was pretty quick with delivering riders to their chosen floor.

“I’m very excited to show you just how much information we can gather and sell,” Ego folded his hands behind his back. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Cobs shifting in place.

“Riiight.” Cobs chuckled.

Awkwardness was thick between the two of them, yet was soon decimated by a sudden ding that notified the two that they had made it to their selected destination. The doors slid open once more to allow them to exit swiftly. Ego marched out, with Cobs in tow, to the short white hallway. A double door was in front of them— white, tall and tightly shut.

Ego widened his eyes and leaned forward to a small monitor that was on the wall at his own eye-level. Bright orange lights flashed out of the monitor, scanning his eyes with a beep chiming soon after.

“Smart use of those eyes that you commissioned me to make,” Cobs commented with a fascinated chuckle.

The doors opened, unveiling a spacious and luxurious office that was dimly lit with warm lights that hooked on the wall, perfectly illuminating a large desk when turned on. Wooden bookshelves with many varieties of books stacked neatly side to side on the shelves so their worn and used spines were visible to whomever visited. Leather chairs sat in front of a small conference table in the center of the room, all facing a large television screen on the opposite wall; The screen’s remote lay crooked on the table next to scattered documents. A glass door was  next to the TV, leading into a bigger room with many tables with Meeple’s latest device prototypes.

“Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty!” Ego snatched the remote and turned on the big screen, then grabbed a thin laptop from his personal desk. “What has my branch been working on, you might be thinking? Well, take a gander at this!” He pressed a key on the laptop, bringing up live video footage of a pitch black room.

Cobs raised an eyebrow, unimpressed in what he was being shown. “Nothing?”

“It’s a livestream from a random customer’s device!” Ego made his way towards the TV, speaking with great enthusiasm that one would only hear from a naturally gifted salesman pitching an enthralling idea.

Well, that’s exactly what Ego knew he was doing.

“We can use Meeple’s state of the art artificial intelligence to determine what words and products are spoken of the most! Information like this will be paramount in our attempt to strike business with other big companies, such as… well, you get the idea,” Ego waved his hand to dust away his need to continue rambling about the possibilities. “I also have a special device that’s in its first phase of design! It’s unlike anything you’ve probably ever seen!” He clapped his hands and pointed to the room with the tables, urging for Cobs to follow him inside.

Continuing on, Ego went to the room and brought Cobs to a glass cube container that displayed an even smaller glass vial on the inside full of a thick, neon green liquid.

“I’ve explained to you just what this little goop stuff does!” Ego tapped a code into the base of the case and opened it, taking out the vial, pushing it close to Cobs’ face. “As you know, Meeple needs more control in the economy than it has,” he shook the vial gently as he spoke, “so if we use this stuff in the new phones we create, we’ll be able to slowly inject it into the customers and slowly accumulate their bodies’ vital signs.”

“Ego—”

“Watch and learn!” Ego brought out a spare MePhone. “A model that is up to the fourteenth version requires this Infusion X for it to even function.”

He took the phone battery out and popped it open along with the glass vial, then poured the glowing green substance into the battery. At first touch, the chemical began to bubble inside the battery, sizzling and bubbling like the carbonation of a freshly poured soda.

“Of course, we can’t use this exact formula due to it being a little too possessive.” Ego snickered as he remembered his first test subjects: a certain redhead that would be stuck by his side like a lost cat throughout his stay at Meeple, and a shiny new robot that Ven was soon stuck inside of.

Cobs shook his head. “Ego, you need to listen to me.”

“Hold that thought! Watch just how quickly the phone can boot up when relying on the new battery!” He set the battery inside of the phone, then slipped the case back on it.

“OJ!” Cobs finally screamed.

When he heard the scream, Ego’s body instinctively froze.

His smile dropped slowly, and his vision grew unfocused and blurry. If he gripped the phone model in his hand any tighter, it would have dented and broken in his palm. Shivers crackled through his system; Not out of fear by any means, but from something that boiled. A burning, scathing emotion ran through each joint— a sharp current jolted through each and every wire inside. After he gained focus, he began to speak. With each word, his tone grew more serious and dark.

“What did you just call me?”

Cobs’ mouth blabbered, throwing out any and all stutters and stammers in an attempt to explain himself.

“I mean you just kept talking and I guess it just… It just slipped out in the moment?” He quickly adjusted his glasses, pushing them back on the bridge of his nose. “And I’m… planning to, uhh… I’m planning on shutting your branch of Meeple down.”

Ego could have sworn that he saw red, because all filters were now obsolete. All impulsivity became rationality to him.

He lunged at Cobs and pushed him to the ground.

Looming over him, he gripped Cobs’ shirt with an almost superhuman strength, lifting him slightly yet making sure to keep him below his own body like a worthless, submissive machine.

“You come into my facility,” Ego jostled him to make sure that every single word he screamed would burn into Cobs’ brain. “You come into my office and look at my projects! And you decide to cut my side of the fucking company like worthless rotten fucking roadkill?!”

The man beneath him was so obviously unable to appreciate his technological advances for the company. He was pathetic. He was enraging.

If Ego was human, the loudness of his yelling surely would have made his throat raspy.

“You’re just a frail, idiotic human!”

His fist made swift contact with Cobs’ face, throwing his glasses off of his face and falling a few inches away from the sheer force.

“You’re just a fucking nerd with his tail tucked between his legs because you have no idea how the real world works!”

Another strike.

“All you do is sit in the back while I do all the work!”

With all his might, Ego lifted a dizzy Cobs up and began to continuously bashed his head against the corner of the table. A loud grunt came from him, along with some splatters of blood.

“Not so fun being so frail, is it?!” Ego rhythmically threw the man’s skull down on the table with small dollops of crimson sprinkled near the point of impact. He wasn’t paying attention to what was coming out of the man, but there may as well have been a tooth or two that cracked out. “Tell me, just how much of a mighty CEO are you if you can be so easily disposed of?”

Ego found himself with one hand gripping Cobs’ throat, holding him high and moving toward a nearby window. He pushed Cobs’s face on the glass, smearing the blood and spit and fogging up the window.

“You see how high up my office is, scum?” The robot hissed into the man’s ear. “Fifty. Stories. And you felt the need to build yours all up in the fucking sky? Don’t make me laugh.”

Cobs groaned, trying to utter out anything that could possibly spare him from Ego’s fury, but the robot had only a few final words for him.

“Steve Cobs, you are nothing but a sick parasite to me— A leech, sucking the money from my pockets and taking it all for yourself. You did not deserve any of it as you’ve done absolutely no work to help this company whatsoever. Good riddance, you worthless mooch.”

Ego slammed the man into the glass with full strength, shattering the glass. He wasn’t going to watch a lowly and stupid man like him splatter across the concrete below. It surely wasn’t worth his time.

After dangling him and hearing his desperate coughing, pleading and shouting, Ego simply let go of him.

Right after, Ego turned away from the window, marching back to his desk while correcting any out of place hairs on his head. Invisible dust was dusted off of his suit when he made his way to his office desk. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he massaged his temples with his fingers to soothe himself. He’d wanted to kill that idiot for the longest time.

He grabbed the remote and began flipping through the livestreams on the television screen as if they were his regular broadcasting show as he put the handset of his phone by his ear, immediately contacting his secretary.

“Yeah,” he began, “Ballpoint? Are you able to get a salad up here? The meeting was more stressful than I imagined.” Then, slamming the speaker back to where it usually laid.

Though as he was flipping through the live recordings without any interest in the beginning, seeing a specific one made his eyes go open.

There, on the couch, was both a familiar brunette and a just-as-familiar grey haired man.

Chapter Text

Knife’s back was against a wooden floor. It was almost cramping for how long he’d been in it and how slowly it rocked.

Though, once the idea of being in a space that he was unfamiliar of settled in, he shot up and took in the surroundings as quickly as his eyes would allow. The sky was bright blue with beautiful fluffy clouds, and the sun was shining into the large body of water that the boat rocked on: an inky deep blue of what seemed to be a large river.

His knuckles gripped the side of the boat as he peered over, squinting to try to make out what the exact shape of the shadows that swam below him were. Humans? Fish? Otherworldly creatures from the depths?

With those questions going unanswered, he began to focus on his reflection in the water. There were no red roots in his hair, nor were his eyes yellow like he remembered. 

A chipper voice rang in his skull, pushing him back to the floor where he awoke. “You’re here!”

Shadows grew from the water with a familiar green tint to them, morphing and twisting in an arch onto the boat. Green faded into red, then glowing demonically as they snapped into what looked to be very inaccurate bones and veins, then forming an identical replica of Fan.

No— Ven.

Knife tried to grab him by the shoulders to quickly throw him off of the edge of the boat, but his palms phased through them, now alerting Knife that this truly wasn’t the robot he and his partner had been searching for.

“You’re an illusion,” Knife muttered as he adjusted how he sat, moving from his knees to sitting on his behind. He ran a hand through his hair, wiping sweat away from his eyebrows. “Where the hell are we?!”

“We have to cross the river! If I touch it, I’ll die from the poison!” Ven sang as he grabbed oars from thin air. He began to row the boat across the body of water, mixing the shadows of the river below them into a ghastly soup of demise.

“But you’re made of that shit. Wait—” Knife looked at his hands. They were glowing bright cartoonish green and letting out a small buzzing noise. “Oh my god.”

The boatman cackled sharply with a just as sickeningly fierce smile. “You touched it, you touched it!” Ven let the oars rest on the boat, allowing the vessel to come to a slow stop. “You touched the water and you’re fine! Go on in, go on in!”

Ven inched forward, his smile ever growing as he grabbed Knife by the shoulders just like how he tried to grab the boatman earlier.

Both of them scuffled for a bit— pushing, grabbing, tugging and shouting.

“Get the hell off of me!” Knife shouted, jerking his hands away from Ven’s grasp and kicking at his legs with full force only for his feet to phase through. “Stop fucking touching me!”

When Knife’s glowing hands scrambled around the boat’s floor to search for stability, his hand brushed over a familiar ribbed handle; one he was used to holding up when faced with trouble.

“Stop!” Knife brought the handle out, aiming it towards Ven. He didn’t have an exact idea as to where he was planning on shooting the robot, but he knew he was going to finally end this shit once and for all. “Get me out of this boat.”

Ven cackled at him. “You’ve always been a lousy cop!” His face began to melt slowly, exposing a hint of pink hair from his scalp beneath the red.

Sudden abnormal amounts of sweat began to line Knife’s palms, making his grip clammy and shaky. “Wh…”

Ven’s voice shifted to a more feminine lilt, and his cheeks rounded out. “Lousy, lousy cop!” The skin from his face splattered onto the boat, revealing an uncanny recreation of Soap. “You’re going to kill me!”

Soap’s hollering then lowered several octaves, her head creaked and cracked like snapping bones as her face began to bubble and melt off just the same as it did before, this time revealing darker skin with more masculine features.

Knife lowered the gun and kept his eyes locked to the robot in front of him.

“I’m human,” Pickle gurgled through disgusting sobs, “I’m real and I’m me! You’re nothing but a monster! Full of hate. I hate you!”

The boat was rocking and slapping against the water, creating thick, dark ripples and splashing onto Knife’s face. Droplets left neon green spots on his skin, humming just as heavily as his glowing hands.

“Shoot me,” Pickle growled.

The gunman sat stupefied at the sight. It wasn’t a body in front of him anymore— it was a mass of faux skin and hair with glowing eyes and a fake head at the top of it.

“SHOOT ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!” The creature bellowed, blowing Knife’s hair back.

Impulses stabbed at Knife’s body along with a buzzing sensation from the water as he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. No sound came from it, but a bullet did whizz out of it and stab a small hole in the chest area of the creature.

He watched as blood began to shoot from the chest and onto his body, splashing onto his face just like the water from the river beneath the boat. The creature cried and screamed, its face slipped off to reveal a near perfect recreation of Yin-Yang with their half black and half white hair unfurling in a cascade. It groaned in pain as it teetered from side to side, rocking the boat harder than it ever rocked before.

Knife felt the gun fly out of his hands as the boat flipped over, pushing him beneath the water.

Everything was dark, and no matter how hard Knife squinted he couldn’t make out anything besides the huge metallic monster sinking deep below. Bits and pieces of it broke off and fell at a slower rate, lingering behind it as it slowly disappeared into the blackness below.

He pushed himself backwards, swimming away from the demon and towards the break of air so that he could give his body a break. All of his might was pushed into his arms and legs, propelling himself up, up, up and only up. Water stung at his muscles from how long he was pushing, yet no matter how far he swam he couldn’t find the exit of the water.

Pressure built up around his chest, stabbing at his lungs and begging for his puffed cheeks to inhale a fresh bout of oxygen, though it proved impossible due to the sinkhole of water that kept him hostage below. Further and further he sank, unable to keep paddling his thrashing limbs and clawing fingers through what felt like thick molasses.

Rushing, chaotic thoughts slowed to a crawl. His limbs stopped flailing when he realized that no matter the amount of strength he put into wanting to live, he just simply wasn’t going to make it out of this.

He pushed his hands together weakly, linking his fingers together. Praying was useless, but it was the only way to lay out his wishes before he’d go unconscious.

Please show me some mercy, I was just a stupid guy that had to change due to the circumstances, he thought as the bitter saltwater filled his chest in every crevice, please just give me a fucking break.

He released his hands from each other, letting his arms and legs float aimlessly in the darkness.

“You can’t exist without me,” Ven’s voice rang in his skull again, “isn’t that fun?”

Knife’s body tensed up. He could see a silhouette of Ven sink towards him, only his eyes were glowing and visible in the void. The shadow reached out a hand to Knife slowly, as if Knife were a scared animal.

“In every bone, every vein, every single joint and muscle, I’ve connected myself to you,” the shadow’s eyes widened with each word, “I saved you from an unfortunate demise. Ego saved you from an untimely death. Don’t you remember, Knife?”

Oxygen began to flow through Knife’s lungs as his eyes flitted around the spiraling reds and yellows, soon slipping hue to flashing blues and oranges. Pain shot through his stomach as images of scientists with shining metallic tweezers, scalpels, and other surgery tools dug through his skin. All images weren’t from his point of view, but coming from his own stomach.

He found himself laying on his back at the bottom of the river, grabbing at the sand and plants below to stabilize himself from the gut wrenching imagery.

“We are a prototype. You and I don’t belong with her anymore.” Ven hissed. “Let me deal with your woes. You need to pass on, Knife. Wouldn’t the sweet euphoria of death soothe those aching pains that ail your head every night? I can be rid of them.”

Nothing else at that moment sounded any more sweet. He grabbed Ven’s hand as tight as he could and tugged. “Help me out of here,” he muttered.

A big toothy grin was visible in the silhouette. It gripped Knife’s hand to the point of almost crushing it as it threw him out of the water.

Knife’s eyes widened as he flew through the air, looking at the grey skies clouded with even more grey rain clouds. Wind blew through his hair as he began to fall towards some earth. Dirt floor covered in dead grass grew larger in perspective as he fell.

His body bent in every odd way with pain as he hit the ground and rolled a few inches from the impact. He could see, across the river, a delightful looking land with brighter colors with many plants and life that contrasted the dead grass and stiff colors on the ground he laid broken on.

Ven stood in front of him with his hands in his hoodie pocket and with a knowing smirk creasing his lips. “You hereby, from shaking my hand,” he reached out his hand again, this time dripping with a sanguine candy-red pool of blood dripping from his palm, “submit your mortality to me, for me to keep you awake and breathing; For me to render you invulnerable. With my help, Ego can’t find you, nor can Meeple. In return, when you find your little boyfriend Nickel, I want full control of your body.

“No matter that this is just a dream, right now you are conscious enough to agree. You have just enough alertness to choose to shake my hand or not.” Ven got on his knees, lowering his hand to Knife’s body. “If not, you will drop dead before you can wake up.”

The blood continued to drip from Ven’s hand onto Knife’s head, staining it wholly with a matching red.

“See how hard Test Tube’s been working to help you stay alive?” Ven’s head tilted. “She’s been working her ass off to keep you not only alive, but sane! Sooner or later she’ll figure out about me.”

Knife’s body let out a sickening crunch as he tried to lift himself off of the ground.

“That truck killed you. I saved you. Make the right choice,” Ven’s smirk dropped. “Don’t you want to see Nickel?”

With that being said, Knife raised his hand and gripped Ven’s with a hard shake. “Wake me up,” Knife growled through the pain. “Just wake me up so I don’t have to feel this pain anymore.”

He felt his body jolt with something running across his body from his shoulder to his hip.

Test Tube and Trophy screamed from Knife’s sudden movement, making Knife scream in return.

“Oh my fucking god!” Trophy shouted from Test Tube’s lap. “Dude, did you have a nightmare or something?”

“Where are we? Holy shit,” Knife adjusted his cap and sunglasses, keeping them steady on his head.

“We have been driving for a few hours. You passed out quite some time ago, so I have just been letting you sleep since it seemed like you needed it.” Test Tube chuckled. “3GS is in the back seat— it said it wanted some time out of my pants pocket.”

Knife turned around, looking at the small phone that was indeed in the backseat of the car. “Cool,” Knife sighed. “Sorry for the sudden jump.”

The other two were silent. Knife then shifted, turning to face the window of the car to listen to the now clear thoughts in his head, from a voice that was not entirely his.

Don’t you remember, Knife?  

He slowly lifted up the lower hem of his shirt, looking toward the lower right part of his belly.

That truck killed you. I saved you.

His scar from the appendix surgery was gone— his stomach was blank as if it had never even happened.

“Hopefully I am not misremembering Nickel’s address, but we should be nearing his living space in a few hours!” Test Tube said with a smile. “Aren’t you excited, Knife?”

He lowered his shirt and looked at her with a forced grin and chuckle. “Yep! Yeah. Sure…”

Chapter Text

Ghostly trails of cigarette smoke puffed from Box’s cigarette and past the back of Nickel’s head. Both men leaned on the hood of Box’s truck in agreement that they needed silence for their harmonizing headaches.

Nickel took in the atmosphere of Suitcase’s neighborhood. The trees and greenery rustled from a breeze every now and then, but despite that it was actually nice and quiet. Looking to the horizon, Nickel squinted to the sky to get an idea of how high the sun was. Quite high indeed. It was hanging in the air, burning down to the earth below almost as if it were a normal day. Not like Nickel would ever experience that again, however.

Box puffed his cigarette a final time and gave a long, drawn out and airy sigh.

“You know,” Nickel started with a smirk, “at first I thought you and Suitcase were married or something.”

The detective’s face scrunched as he shook his head, leading to Nickel laughing in amusement from Box’s reaction. For a moment there was only peace in Nickel’s mind.

“We should go back home now. I think going out helped clear my mind. Plus, I don’t think Balloon would want to talk to me if he gets here.” Nickel scratched the back of his neck.

Box hummed in approval and opened the car door to put the cigarette out in the car’s ashtray. Nickel hopped into the passenger seat as well, getting ready to buckle up as Box hopped into the driver’s seat and put his keys into the car.

Though, the car didn’t start.

Nickel’s lips tightened to a thin line. “Everything alright dude?”

Box’s palms came off of the wheel and keys and faced up in confusion. He continued turning the keys in the ignition, but the car refused to even sputter.

The two slowly piled out of the vehicle and stood speechless.

“What, so are we just stranded at Suitcase’s house until we can call some guy to fix your car?” Nickel groaned. “Or you can look up the problem on your phone. Unless you’re good with cars, I guess.”

Box rolled his eyes and lifted the hood. When the contents of the inside revealed itself, Box’s eyes went wide.

There was a huge hole where the car battery was supposed to be.

Nickel chuckled in confusion. “Huh?” The two of them met eye to eye. “The entire car battery is gone?” He scratched his head. “To be honest I’m assuming that’s the battery. I don’t know cars— I’m not a handyman.”

Before Box could bring himself to think of a solution, loud shattering came from the home that they stood outside of. Then there was a sharp bang, similar to that of a gunshot.

The two men met eyes again and dropped absolutely everything, darting to the front door and beginning to knock on it furiously with Nickel shouting and begging for Suitcase to let the two into the house.

No answer. And, suspiciously, no other noises.

Nickel ran a hand through his hair and gnawed on his lip as Box began trying to bust through the door with his shoulder. With each thud, Nickel began to worry even more about what could possibly be going on to warrant such silence after what seemed to be a gunshot.

Could it have been a break in? If so there was really only one person Nickel could think of off the top of his head that would have had the gall to try to break into a house after stealing a car battery— and he remembered what Knife told him about two specific home invasions that he had to find his way into.

“The back!” Nickel tugged at Box’s coat sleeve before he could chuck himself into the locked door again. “The shatter probably came from the back! The windows—”

Box took off running to the back of the house in the blink of an eye, taking off his coat and balling it up in his hands. Nickel followed the taller man and skidded around the corner, watching Box wave his coat straight.

Just as Nickel predicted, the back had a sliding glass door that was shattered from top to bottom. Box threw his coat onto the ground over the glass and disappeared into the home.

Nickel began gasping for air from running after Box, but he wasn’t complaining. The quicker Box went, the better the chances were of saving the people inside.

When he rounded the corner, Nickel saw a tall figure. Lanky with their dark hair in a low bun, donning a yellow scarf and a yellow cap. A stern scowl was on their face, and they pointed a gun at Box, and another at the Cherries. All three of them had their hands up.

“I was told there was only Suitcase and Nickel in this home,” Ballpoint Pen scoffed. “I better get a raise for this— it’s absolutely dreadful that I even have to do this as just a mere secretary.”

“What the fuck are you of all people doing here?” Nickel waved his hand at him. “Don’t tell me you’re in on this shit too.”

“Again, I’m just a secretary since I… couldn’t find work.” He pursed his lips, then cocked the two pistols at both parties.

“Where’s Suitcase?” Nickel kept his breath steady and calm even though he wanted to freak the absolute fuck out and maim the man’s face with his bare hands.

“That’s a new one.” Ballpoint’s posture straightened. “I could have sworn she hated you. I was a big fan of the show, you know.”

“Yeah I get it, I was an abusive asshole; I literally have no redeeming qualities and I don’t deserve to live yes I know,” Nickel rolled his eyes. “But she didn’t deserve it and she doesn’t deserve this. Where is she?”

The man’s eyebrows raised, soon with a knowing smile to follow. “I’m not a big fan of games like Ego is, but experiencing the adrenaline rush of being able to take a life is…” a sigh rippled out of him in waves, “truly an experience.”

“Where is she?” Nickel said again, this time his fists were tight enough to make them shake.

“Out of commission, perhaps?” Ballpoint made a kissy noise. “I’m not sure, I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t really given ‘shoot to kill’ orders. Just ‘shoot the people inside’ orders.”

When Nickel took a step forward, the gunman shook the pistols.

“Take another step,” Ballpoint grinned, “and I take another life.”

To that, Nickel stopped and let out a sigh. From his peripheral he could see the Cherries, huddled in a corner and hugging each other tightly. They’d been stunned and in tears, shocked from what was going on— definitely shocked from the sight of seeing their father being held at gunpoint.

The idea of them witnessing Suitcase get shot made Nickel’s stomach flip and churn.

Nickel croaked out warily, “What do you want?”

“Nothing, really,” Ballpoint tilted his head. “What is it that lowly idiots like you want? Money? Power? Now that we’re under new management, we can get you anything.”

“Let them go.” Nickel almost growled. “Or I’ll have to beat your ass myself.”

Ballpoint Pen frowned in a mocking manner, followed by a coo of sadness. “Oh poor me, being beaten up by the scrawny man who has flashbacks from his dumb boyfriend being hit by a truck!” He cackled. “Either way, I’m still getting paid no matter who I shoot. Maybe I’ll leave it up to you!”

“What?” Nickel’s voice was hoarse.

“Box? Or the stupid kids I had to threaten to shut up?”

Nickel’s eyes darted between the two.

Box was glancing between Nickel and his kids. Obviously his gestures were meant to guide Nickel towards saving the two kids that were holding each other, crying quietly on the floor covered in small splatters of blood.

“Tick tock.” Ballpoint repeated those two words over and over in time, like a deadly metronome.

The detective slowly got on his knees.

The cherries in the corner brought each other closer in a loving hug, tears streaming down their faces as they tried to keep each other from screaming in terror.

“Three…”

If Box died, nobody would be able to help him stop Meeple from doing god knows what.

“Two…”

Nickel gripped his hair tightly, but the adrenaline of the moment made his entire body numb.

“One!”

Nickel leapt to his left, pushing the bigger man onto the floor as the gunman shot both guns.

One bullet hit the wall instead of Box.

Another bullet hit one of the Cherries straight in the skull, making them slump against the wall. The other Cherry screamed in horror— but soon, another gunshot rang out.

Nickel knew that they were too young. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Box was supposed to protect them. Now, he forced Box’s failure to do the bare minimum for his children.

Nearly tripping several times he ran to them, the man who threatened Box’s life was now irrelevant. Box quickly scooped them into his arms, the place where both kids once found protection in the midst of a cruel, murderous planet. 

And so Box's consciousness was frozen in the past, reminiscent memories of joy flashing by as if to taunt him. His life at present was nothing but fighting off an overwhelming pain through numbness, such as the precious young lives he felt slowly slipping away in his very own arms. 

This was it. This was Ballpoint Pen's grand show and he was the director. The stage was initially set by his perfect plan and the results were flawless. His gaze pierced through his mere actors, only knowing to judge their performance rather than sympathize, as not only a critic but a true artist in his eyes do. 

As he smiled at the bloody display, he couldn't help but bow at his invisible audience before silently walking off. 

"Daddy," one of the Cherries' bloodied hands slowly lifted up to wrap around Box's neck, like it would save them. "Is the monster gone...?" 

Box felt pure nausea at the sight of his own children's blood, his pursed lips trembled as if searching for words. He should only have to hear that question when he needs to check under the bed or closet for monsters to make sure his sons can sleep at night. 

He clutched the boys closer into his chest, and unhinged his shaky jaw in a deep breath. 

"I'll make fucking sure he is." Box uttered a raspy remark through grit teeth.

Nickel could only stare in horror at the sight, watching as the final kid grew limp and glassy-eyed. He watched as the man, the one who used to be known for his unemotional blank slate of a character, wail into the bodies of his kids.

Chapter Text

Lying on the doorstep of Nickel’s apartment was a shattered phone with a hastily written note stuck beneath it. When Test Tube picked the two objects up, Knife took quick notice.

“What’re those?” He said, holding Trophy’s sleeping head secure in his hands.

She folded the paper and shoved it into her pocket. “Important information apparently.”

For a few seconds, Knife thought to himself. While he did want to inquire Test Tube about just what important information she wanted to hide, he didn’t want to have the guilt of being such a huge hypocrite weighing on his back.

“Alright.” His voice was bitter. Even though he tried to conceal the worry, it seemed to seep through anyways.

He looked around the other apartments as Test Tube knocked on the front door.

The building seemed to be quiet at the very least, and there were barely any cars in the parking lot. Three vehicles, including the one that he and Test Tube took from Meeple. Just how many people moved out of the apartment complex in the past few months? Last time he was here there were definitely more signs of life around.

Test Tube knocked again.

“Is he not home?” Knife frowned.

“I suppose not,” Test Tube grabbed the door knob and turned it, then followed by the door swinging open. “Who would just leave their front door unlocked like this?”

Knife’s frown only dropped with more worry. “Hopefully he’s alright.” The party stepped inside. Everything about the place seemed familiar and surreal. Dreamlike and blurry. Each minute— hell, each second, he looked around the empty apartment filled him with a sense of dread. 

Especially the kitchen, where he chronicled each and every minute detail of what led to him coming to Nickel’s home. On the kitchen island were small empty bags of food with receipts stuck onto them. Knife’s fingers pinched the paper closer for him to read.

“So he’s been here lately,” Knife sighed and balled the empty bags up and threw them into the nearest trash can. “These are very recent.”

Test Tube sat the shattered phone onto the kitchen island and began tinkering away at it with whatever utensil she could find in the kitchen. “I say that it would be best for you to sit down while I try to find something to fix this with.” She turned back to look at Knife, who was getting comfortable on the couch trying to light a half smoked cigarette.

“Where did you get that?” She scrunched her nose.

“Found it in an ashtray on the coffee table,” Knife smirked. “Just let me have this.”

“At least take those sunglasses off. And that damn hat. You don’t need to keep those on inside.” She spat playfully at him.

He sank into the couch as he desperately sucked at the butt of the cigarette stub. His mind wandered instead of responding to Test Tube’s unnecessary suggestions. The couch was just as comfortable as the last time he sat on it, even if the man who so tenderly wrapped his wounds up was not there with him. Admittedly he did miss that Nickel, and he did miss that moment.

“Fuck.” Knife muttered, covering his face with his hands. “I’m actually so tired.”

Trophy’s eyes fluttered open with a sharp yawn to follow. “Yeah I bet that nap you had during the car ride really made you sleepy huh?” He scoffed. Knife then grabbed Trophy by the hair and picked him up off of the couch and sat him on the coffee table despite the head’s verbal retaliation.

“I’ll just put my feet up on the couch since Nickel ain’t here—”

The living room door swung open once more, but this time with a loud bang to follow. A short woman with brown hair and a yellow headband came in, holding her arm with a bloody hand.

An even shorter man with dark silver hair was helping her by his side.

“Holy shit!” Test Tube immediately ran to their side, after placing a sleeping 3gs next to the broken phone she was working on, to see if they needed any help at all.

“Please take her to my bedroom,” Nickel’s voice was wavering, and tears were dribbling down his cheeks. “I just saw you guys walk in here and knew I had to catch up; I can’t even begin to explain what the fuck I just did!” The more he tried to choke back his sobs, the more stuttery and unintelligible his speech became.

Test Tube supported Suitcase with her arm, lifted Trophy off of the table and made her way to Nickel’s room.

Knife’s eyes went round seeing the man.

And, of course, Nickel’s eyes also went wide upon making eye contact with the man on his couch. The still tension was enough to make Nickel’s sobs stop for a moment.

Nickel’s foot pushed the door shut without any movement from his upper body. He was in a sort of daze seeing the guy sitting conscious right in front of him. Soon he found himself able to lift a finger and point it to Knife’s direction weakly. “You…”

Quickly standing up, Knife put the cigarette out and flicked it into the ashtray, then pointed to himself. “Me?! What the fuck? What about you? Who the hell leaves their door unlocked?!” Knife pressed a hand to his own chest. “What if we were Meeple or something?”

“I mean I saw you get hit by that…” Nickel shook his head. “Box told me you wouldn’t have died so easily but I could have sworn I saw it with my own eyes.”

Box? Knife scratched the back of his neck. “I mean here I am.”

“...There you are.” Nickel’s arm lowered. His tears were still flowing, and he was still sniffing like crazy— but other than that, it was silent.

The bedroom door shut with a soft click.

The noise seemed to initiate something abnormal within Nickel, because he immediately charged towards Knife and leaped at him, wrapping his arms around Knife’s neck and crying hysterically and blubbering about thinking that the two of them would never see each other again.

Knife quickly wrapped his own arms around Nickel’s waist, twirling him around and digging his face into the nape of Nickel’s neck and taking in the warmth of his body. He pushed his sunglasses off, allowing them to fall to the floor and let the two of their bodies fall to the couch in a big, loving squeeze.

“Fucking idiot!” Nickel’s yelling was muffled in Knife’s shoulder. “You better not scare me like that again— I couldn’t sleep after seeing you get sent into the air by that thing!”

“Don’t phrase it so pathetically like that,” Knife snickered, tightening the hug he had around the man laying on his chest. “You’re making me sound like an absolute loser on purpose.”

Nickel looked up at him with the most bewildered expression Knife had ever seen on a person. “You’re joking? You were punted and we both know it! It traumatized me.”

A smirk crept onto Knife’s lips. “How do you think I feel?”

“My god just shut up already!” More tears welled in Nickel’s eyes. “I thought I lost everyone— But here you are. You’re alive in front of me and I just— I just want to…” Nickel cupped Knife’s cheeks.

Knife’s smirk turned to delighted shock. “Oh? You wanna kiss me so bad huh?”

A second or two passed as Nickel debated with himself. To both of them, Nickel’s answer was so obvious. Nickel knew from the moment he was helping the detective wrap his injury that he wanted to stay by his side forever and always. Knife knew it too, but decided that pushing it down would have been the best decision at that time. Every decision he’s made so far though, Knife would regret. But this one decision proved to be the best decision he’d ever make in his life.

Knife lightly grabbed Nickel’s chin and brought his lips to his own.

He could feel his own heart flutter as Nickel melted into the kiss by locking his fingers behind Knife’s neck for more support. This was the first time in a long time the two of them could simply just be. They could sit and actually enjoy a moment without a looming dread over them and clouding away the sunshine.

It felt right.

When they parted, Knife’s face was visibly more red than Nickel’s, causing Nickel to chuckle.

“Wow you’re red as a— Wait, what the fuck?” Nickel sat upright, looking directly into Knife’s eyes.

Sitting there stupefied, Knife could only give a confused hum. He brought his fingers to his lips, feeling the lingering warmth of him and Nickel’s kiss.

Nickel pushed himself back even more. “Your eyes are yellow?!” Then he lurched forward and whipped the dark cap off of Knife’s head, then jumped at the sight of the red roots taking over his once silvery hair.

Knife jolted upright along with him. Placing a hand onto his scalp, he muttered a curse to himself before sighing deeply. 

“Okay. I’ve gotta let you in on something, Nickel. Just please promise you won’t say a word to Test Tube, or anyone for that matter.”

Once again Knife’s cheek felt the warm caress of his lover’s hand. “Tell me anything. I promise you it’s between us.” Their eyes locked once more in a moment of trust and intimacy.

He leaned closer to Nickel, uttering each word quietly yet clearly enough so that Nickel could fully grasp the gravity of the situation. “Vengeance revived me after I got hit by that truck.”

And, as expected, Nickel had many questions— Most of which Knife could not appropriately answer with the lack of knowledge he had. All he knew was that Ven was inside of him and kept him in the land of the living to keep going.

“And that’s it?” Nickel’s hand shifted.

Knife grabbed his cap. “It’s like I’m doing some stupid magical girl transformation but It’s making me look like an absolute loser,” Knife scoffed as he put on his sunglasses, “but yeah. Please just keep your mouth zipped tight.”

Nickel’s hand traced from Knife’s cheek to his hair. He ran his fingers through the reddening strands of hair, treating him gently as if his skull would fracture from even the slightest bit of pressure. “I don’t care if it turns your hair bright fucking green, I’m just glad you’re here and alive.”

He slowly grabbed Knife’s cap and helped him put it on, pushing the rosy locks beneath it to keep them hidden; Also helping Knife find his jet black sunglasses.

They made eye contact once more before jolting away and blushing like maniacs in unison.

“We should check on Suitcase,” Nickel coughed and dusted himself off before standing up.

“Yeah,” Knife nodded and cleared his throat. “Let’s.”

Chapter Text

Test Tube held Suitcase’s hand tightly as she adjusted the position where she laid on Nickel’s bed, petting her hair like an animal trapped in the maw of a stinging bear trap.

When Suitcase’s breathing steadied, Test Tube took it upon herself to speak as softly as possible to the injured woman. “Are you able to speak?” She squeezed Suitcase’s hand once more, showing the woman that this was all, in fact, real.

The brunette’s jaw visibly clenched as she tried to catch her breath from becoming too carried away from the raging burn that pinned her body to the bed.

“Damn it all,” Test Tube let go of Suitcase’s hand and scrambled to the ground, picking up a random t-shirt and ripping it using nothing but her hands, then using the ripped portion to wrap around Suitcase’s wound. “Suitcase, I do not mean to alarm you but your answer would really help us figure some things out if it’s useful. We need you,” Test Tube grunted while tying the wrinkled fabric in a lopsided yet snug bow.

“Ballpoint Pen,” Suitcase heaved out as she tried to sit upwards to look Test Tube in her eye, “he’s working for Meeple. He got the Cherries and I couldn’t do anything…”

“He injured you too?” Test Tube held an arm behind Suitcase to help prop her up.

Suitcase nodded softly. “Box was there but he left—” She cut herself off with a rough cough. “He couldn’t even look at Nickel. He took the kids and left Nickel and I alone in that house. Nickel had to use my own car to take us back here.”

“No hospital?!” Test Tube almost shouted in disbelief.

“He said Dr. Fizz wasn’t in the place today, and that we shouldn’t risk the public knowing anything about Meeple just yet,” Suitcase cleared her throat. “He was able to remove the bullet and sterilize the hole with some alcohol Box left in the trunk of my car, though.” Suitcase had a lopsided smile. “What a loser… He even called him for a home visit tomorrow.”

Test Tube exchanged a quick glance to Trophy, who was sitting on Nickel’s nightstand.

“Didn’t realize that guy was still a doctor after so long,” Trophy scoffed.

“I was not aware we would have to put such distrust into so many people…” Test Tube stroked her chin. “But Nickel is right with that assumption. If it gets into the news, we could have more people try to muck everything up.”

Trophy chimed in with another, very unhelpful quip. “Yep. We can’t trust the authorities with actual proof that Meeple wants to use their devices to brainwash consumers.”

“At most,” Test Tube snapped at Trophy, “the evidence we have is very minimal right now due to the broken phone, and then we only have word of mouth. It would be chalked up to a group hallucination, no doubt.”

Suitcase’s face contorted to a dazed look of bewilderment. Even if she looked like she was about to pass out at any moment, she seemed to be trying to push out a few more words.

“Suitcase?” Test Tube shook her lightly. “Is something on your mind? Are you alright?”

“Pen said,” Suitcase muttered, “someone stole a project called Nemesis, ” she leaned back onto the wall, her eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. “A project with a burning vengeance inside of it. Not that I know what that means…” Her voice grew slow and trancelike as she fell asleep, leaning against the wall.

The taller woman’s face dropped quickly as soon as that information came to light.

Of course she helped Suitcase lie comfortably on the bed and tucked her in nicely, but Test Tube felt the blood in her body run cold.

“Shit is crazy, right?” If Trophy rolled his eyes anymore, they probably would have gotten lost in the back of his head.

Soft knocking on the door pushed Test Tube out of her near fainting spell. She whipped her head around, watching the door slowly open. From there, she could look at Knife in the eye. Or, rather, in his sunglasses.

“She good?” Knife muttered softly.

Test Tube gulped and began fumbling with her fingers. “We should let her rest.” Test Tube grabbed Trophy’s head and pressed a button on the bottom of his neck, forcing his face to drop, mimicking how he was asleep earlier.

Standing behind Knife was Nickel, who was avoiding looking anywhere near Knife but also trying to see what was going on in his room.

She brushed past Nickel and sat Trophy on the kitchen table next to 3gs and the shattered phone that she was previously fixing. “Nickel, do you have any tools of this sort?” She swallowed once more and began playing with her hair.

Once he got a good look at the shattered phone, he shook his head. “I can see if the store has anything. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”

“Count me in,” Knife raised his hand, “I need to stretch my legs and—”

“I need to talk to you.” Test Tube grabbed Knife’s wrist, earning a small choke from the man. “Nickel can go real quick. He knows this place better than us.”

Little hesitation came from Nickel before he agreed to venture off alone to the store due to it being in close proximity to the apartments. The three exchanged the usual quick goodbyes before an errand, and Nickel left the two of them sitting in a thick quiet.

Finally, like a guardian angel, Test Tube croaked out with a hoarseness to her voice, as if she was on the verge of tears. However she was looking down towards the floor, hiding her face from Knife.

“Let me see your eyes, Knife.”

Knife’s eyes went wide behind his sunglasses. “What?!” Alright, so perhaps not a guardian angel after all.

“I trust you,” She said, her fist clenching so hard it was about to shake, “you trust me. We are partners , no?” Snapping up, she looked him in the face. Her face was almost red, her lips were twitching incessantly trying to hold back whatever was wanting to be let out in her moment of, what she knew this feeling as, shame. More firm, she pressed on. “Show them to me.”

Knife was frozen in place.

She could have sworn if she got any more pissed, smoke would have shot out of her ears.

“TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKING GLASSES!” Test Tube grabbed Knife’s shoulders and pushed him to the wall.

“Don’t do this,” Knife shook his head. “I don’t know what happened but you don’t want me to. You’d only—”

“What? I’d only what?” Test Tube shouted. Her grip on Knife’s shoulders was trembling. “Only realize you’ve been lying to me since we left? I bought you a cap and glasses! You helped me climb down a fucking skyscraper!” Her grip grew tighter. “We’ve been through so much and yet you still want to hide shit from me?!”

Knife shoved Test Tube off of him, sending her backwards and falling on her behind.

“I said you don’t want me to,” he grumbled. His fingers found their way to his hat. The sound of his fingernails scratching against the crown of the cap was almost sickening to the ears. Pure desperation rang out between each word that Knife uttered out. “I don’t want you to! I just got him back, please stop!”

He hit a fist on the ground, coughing and dry heaving.

Test Tube pushed herself away from him, watching as he laid on the floor. “What are you doing?!” She stammered, raising an arm to protect her neck in the case of the thing in front of her springing to action.

Knife couldn’t breathe. Something was closing in his throat and forcing him to gasp for air, which would prove impossible.

“You wanna see his eyes so fucking bad?!” A familiar more chaotic voice screamed from his throat as his hand crunched the sunglasses on his face, shattering them from the sheer force of his hand. “He already showed Nickel, so why not you huh?”

He looked up at Test Tube, eyes glowing with a repulsive mixture of yellows and greens.

“Hell, why not the hair too?!” His hat was removed in a quick swipe, revealing a full head of red hair with silver tips. It was way longer than it was just a few days ago, like the man in front of Test Tube was a completely different person.

They stared, meeting at a vision’s crossroad.

“Was your hypothesis correct, Test Tube?” Knife’s voice began to stutter and glitch, a messy coalescence of both his own voice and an eerie recreation of Ven’s. “Are you happy that the truth was forced on you so quickly? Or are you upset that Ven just keeps trying to come back?”

“What do you want?” She hissed.

Laughing, the robot inched closer and closer to her. “What you built Vengeance for in the first place. To protect the one he loves, right?” He pushed her arm down, revealing her face to him. “But that’s not you anymore, since he’s us now.”

Test Tube’s free hand pat the ground behind her, searching for anything that might have fallen during the two’s earlier scuffle so that she could at least have a fighting chance. She’d dealt with enough of these dreaded robots to know that they really loved to talk about themselves in extravagant detail.

“You are that project? Nemesis?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Ego has been rebuilding not only Edacity, but me as well,” Knife’s head tilted impossibly to the side with a few sharp cracks. “Why do you think I survived that truck striking me? In that split moment, Vengeance decided to sacrifice himself to keep me alive for Meeple’s experiments and they were successful in connecting the nanotechnology to Knife’s own brain and operating system,” His mouth showed no smile, nor no frown. It was still, in a line. Unexpressive.

Barely a centimeter separated the two of them now, their noses were almost touching. His body wasn’t warm at all. He was a cold machine. No items were in close enough proximity to protect Test Tube.

“And of course I told Nickel. Because, why wouldn’t I?” His head snapped back upright. “It’s not my duty to protect you anymore. That, coupled with my newfound allegiance to Meeple, so…” His voice trailed off.

“What, so us escaping that place meant nothing to you?” She squinted. “Was it all a lie?”

“Oh trust me, it sure meant a lot to Knife, but not to me.” Despite him audibly chuckling, his face stayed unnervingly static.

She looked at his shoulder, noticing bright green veins trailing from his spine to his back like grotesque, veiny wings. “So you’re really not Knife or Ven right now then? Are you going to kill me?”

Nemesis paused and looked her up and down. “Regrettably, yes to both of those questions.”

Chapter Text

Nickel scanned each of the tools at the self-checkout center, huffing with annoyance everytime the scanner told him to move the item more slowly for it to read the barcodes properly.

When he successfully scanned the last item after a few more tries, he hastily stuffed them into a biodegradable bag and shook them angrily in his hand like a hard-earned prize and pushed one leg in front of the other out of the hardware store. If he didn’t have people around him, he would have thrown the shit against the floor and gone home to tell Test Tube to just get the damned things herself.

But he knew better than to put more stress on the poor woman, no matter how small. He felt as if he owed her his life, so doing menial errands would at least take the weight off of her back. She saved Knife after all, and putting up a fight like his past self would have done would just throw a wrench in the works.

Even just the slightest thought of Knife made Nickel’s lips feel fuzzy with a phantom touch of that loving kiss, especially when remembering how close the two had gotten just a few minutes earlier. The personal details that the ex-detective shared with him. The shock in Knife’s eyes when Nickel leapt into his arms and spun him around. Falling in love during such drastic events might be selfish of him, but that man in his home was the only one that could truly make Nickel’s shoulders relax, and the only one who made him want to experience life to its fullest.

He felt a warmness force him down onto the linoleum floor, and the bag in his hand spilled the items all over the ground as well.

A tall man in a red and white shirt stood above him, posture as straight as a tower as if he didn’t just get crashed into by a man who was too deep in his thoughts to pay attention to where he was going. The man’s brows drew together as he held a hand out, waiting patiently for Nickel to snap out of his stupor and stand up. Which of course, he did immediately after scooping the phone tools back into the bag that they flew out of. Most eyes in the store were now on the two of them.

“Doctor!” Nickel kept a hold of the man’s hand and shook it. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

“Neither did I,” Fizz let go of Nickel’s hand and placed his thumbs in both of his pockets, “I just had to stop by the store to check out what sort of supplies they had before going to see that friend of yours.” His eyes darted to the contents of the store. “I know you said it was an emergency so I decided to come into town a day early. I wanted to call back, but the number was unavailable?”

Nickel couldn’t help but wince thinking about using Box’s phone. “That was… an acquaintance’s phone,” he said with his nervous smile dipping to a more solemn frown as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes snapped open, widening in a split second. “Would you be able to come over today? She really needs help, it’s urgent!”

Fizz was silent for a beat or two, but after what felt like an eternity, he reluctantly agreed. “I’m sure I can rearrange a few things and—”

Before he could finish his statement, Nickel grabbed the man’s wrist and snatched him out of the store like a train hauling cargo. And when he took the bag of tools into account, that sort of phrasing would be right indeed.

“Hey!” Fizz shouted as the both of them ran down the sidewalk. “Slow down and let me steady myself for proper running at least!”

There was absolutely no time for that. Suitcase needed help, and she needed it now.

Nickel could feel adrenaline shooting through every inch and crevice of his body as he huffed fresh air into his lungs. If he pushed his burning legs any faster, he definitely thought they would have melted off right then and there. The ground was a blur to him, and in that moment the only thing he could focus on was the apartment building that grew closer and closer. His mind began to race faster than his heart beating against his chest. Wind blew his short hair around in ways similar to his regular bedhead look.

Rounding the corner, Nickel secured the grip he had on Dr. Fizz’s wrist as he practically vaulted up the stairs, almost sighing in relief as he made it to the top with all of the tools still in the bag and the man that he was dragging behind him was still behind him; albeit panting loudly and bending over with his hands on his knees for support. This was perfect. Suitcase could live, and no more casualties and drama would ensue for possibly the next few days. He jogged to his apartment door with Fizz following in wobbly steps.

The doctor failed at grabbing his attention. He just would not listen— Nickel’s mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

Muffled hollering and thuds erupted from the apartment just as Nickel’s hand grazed the doorknob.

“What the hell?!” Fizz gasped out. “Is your friend Suitcase alright?”

After a few more seconds of being frozen, Nickel’s sweaty hand fumbled with the doorknob. “That’s not her voice!”

He threw the door open, the force almost pushing him to the floor a second time. On the floor of his apartment was Knife sitting over Test Tube. He was holding a kitchen knife to her good eye, with her hands pushing his wrists so that the metal was just over her eyeball. Any centimeter lower and it would have pierced and possibly even popped it.

The men that just entered the room gasped, and Nickel let the bag hit the floor once more.

“Dude!” Nickel shouted, pushing his body past its limits to rush to Test Tube’s aid and shoving Knife off of her. “What the hell Knife, I thought we were good?!”

“That is not Knife,” Test Tube stood up and propped herself up with Nickel’s help. Her entire body trembled. “He may have Knife’s memories and physical shape, but he is now mostly a robot built by Meeple. With Vengeance inside of him as well, he seems to have a very extravagant sense of justice.”

“Not…” Nickel thought to himself. “But he sure as hell— Wait, are you telling me I locked lips with a fake Knife?”

Test Tube shot him a look that screamed something along the lines of “ you’re joking, right?”

“Nemesis,” The robot said as veins shone a brilliant neon green on his face. “My assigned task is to secure the risks to Meeple’s security and eliminate them one by one.” He twirled the blade in his fingers, adjusting it to what could only be assumed was a more comfortable holding position. “Though, my own primary objective is: Protect Nickel.”

Nickel and Test Tube exchanged looks of terror. With every single nerve in his body burning, Nickel stepped forward to the armed man while trying to prevent himself from running away in terror. “So you do know me, Knife— I mean, Nemesis.” He stammered as he inched closer to the robot.

The red hair flowing down Nemesis’ shoulders like a bloody waterfall of anger was like one giant red flag, telling Nickel to just say fuck all of this shit and book it right then and there.

But that truly wasn’t him anymore. He wouldn’t do that to the people he loved; nor would he just let the man he spent so much time with have to be stopped via violence. The man standing in front of Nickel was still and expressionless; Just as unreadable as Knife had been.

“Is your love real then?” Nickel asked delicately. “Or was that part programmed into you?”

Nemesis tapped the edge of the knife against his own cheek thoughtfully. “If you’re asking me about my emotions, the human part of me can still feel. I’m still human in that regard, but physically I’m not the same as I once was.”

Sighing in relief, Nickel looked the guy up and down one more time, eyes flitting over every single minute detail and taking in each thing that he wasn’t used to. “You love me then?”

“Yeah,” Nemesis scoffed. “Why are you so curious about that?”

Nickel’s hand gently combed through the robot’s hair. While it was slow, it felt like a sudden spark between the both of them, making the two of them jump lightly. The knife that Nemesis gripped had fallen to the floor, rattling for just a split second.

And, with a twinge of nervousness, Nickel spoke from his heart. He began, “Never mind your hair being red now, or that it grew so freakishly fast— I’m just glad that you’re here.” Tears pricked the corners of Nickel’s grey eyes as he looked into the burning yellow ones staring back at him. “I hate Meeple for what they’ve turned you into, but in some weird fucked up way I’m also so glad that you’re back here. With me, you know?”

Nemesis did not move as Nickel ran his fingers further through the red hair.

“Please just give us all a chance to get Meeple to stop whatever they’re doing so we can be happy together.” Nickel’s throat grew raspy with each word. “Knife or Nemesis, I’m just so totally in love with you. Now that you confirmed to me that your love is still real then god damn it I know you also feel remorse and you’ll regret trying to hurt Test Tube.” Nickel’s hand moved from Nemesis’ hair to his shoulders as his tears dribbled down his cheeks to his chin. He rested his forehead on the man’s chest.

As Nickel quietly sobbed into Nemesis’ chest, he felt something wrap around him and envelop him in a familiar warmth.

“I love you too, Nickel.” Nemesis laid a soft kiss on top of Nickel’s head, forcing more sobs out of Nickel's throat. “You’re right. Sorry, Test Tube.” Nemesis flatly apologized to the woman, earning a scoff and a reluctant acceptance from her.

That bliss from when the two had cuddled on the couch earlier returned to him, yet with a slightly bitter kick to it. It was almost elating knowing that he was genuinely apologetic for what he did. Or maybe it was the fact of knowing his partner was practically indestructible now.

“What the hell is even going on?” Dr. Fizz’s voice was wavering. “Did he just try to stab someone? Meeple? And is that a decapitated head on the couch?!”

Test Tube pat Fizz’s back and sighed. “It is a long, long story. For now we need you to take a look at our friend Suitcase in the bedroom,” she led the stammering man to the bedroom. “Maybe after this I can tell you all about what’s going on.”

Chapter Text

Test Tube couldn’t help but stare in Nickel's room to watch Dr. Fizz’s hands softly pressing the diaphragm of the stethoscope around her chest and stomach area. She looked to be hanging on by a thread, and it was all because of that stupid orange-haired madman siccing Ballpoint Pen on them like a wild animal deprived of entertainment.

And no matter how much she shuffled on the couch, it would never be the proper amount of comfort for her. Not with the two men whispering to each other in the kitchen with voices low enough to be rendered indecipherable to regular ears.

Not only did she not want to eavesdrop, she just couldn’t push past the stress to focus on anything other than her worry for Suitcase, no matter how close to death she was just a few minutes ago. Nickel saved her, which meant she now had time to try to put a strategy to place.

Occasionally she would find herself glancing at Apathy’s head on the coffee table, wondering if it would truly be humane to turn him back on, even if it was just to witness everything going on. Why, if it were her, she wouldn’t want to be subjected to any of this: Losing people, losing friends— All one after the other, they’d been dropping like flies just out of her grasp.

“Hey, Test Tube,” a familiar gruff voice cut between her and her thoughts.

In front of her, standing without his buttoned shirt on, was Nemesis. Faint neon green reflected off of the sides of his neck from the bright lime veins running from his face to his back.

Looking behind him, Nickel seemed to be gathering weeks (or even months) worth of laundry to take to the laundry room downstairs.

Taking notice of Test Tube’s curiosity, Nemesis shrugged. “I made him leave to do his laundry so that you and I could talk. You know,” Nem slowly and hesitantly took a seat next to Test Tube, “about…” His hands began to gesture vaguely towards the two of them as his voice stammered, evidently struggling to find words to say.

While he scratched the back of his neck, Test Tube took notice of the veins on his body. They seemed to run shorter down his spine than she thought, and instead ran down half of his spine and frayed outwards to his shoulders like sparks of electricity, twisting and chopping into viridescent featherless wings that would forever be etched on the inside of the canvas that is his back, already covered in darker brown beauty spots.

Moments like these were the prime example of moments that she wishes she could have more often. Sitting, unable to think of what to say. Feeling close to her partner. Unfortunately she knew what had to happen now. The look on Nemesis’ face was recognizable.

“About us ?” She finally let out a defeated chuckle.

Even though his face looked numb and icy, something in his eyes seemed to shatter: Maybe his soul? Would he even be qualified to have a soul? This was the same robot that tried to stab her to death a few minutes earlier, of course. And, admittedly, the same man who she felt a fondness to. The same man who journeyed with her for so long only to end up battered and bruised with machinery and metals inch by inch like a futuristic ship of Theseus.

“Nickel and I talked about it all,” he began, “and we decided that if things carry on this way then we think it would just be better if we stayed here.”

God she couldn’t even bring herself to look up at him at that moment. She would have begun to bawl at full force.

“You know Marshmallow and Paintbrush left us because they just couldn’t handle it, right?” He began picking at the couch cushions, presumably to fill in the silence Test Tube left. “I mean, it’s not that I can’t handle it— I am… a robot for fuck’s sake.”

Test Tube shook her head lightly and pushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “You want to stay alive and keep Nickel safe, right?”

He lifted his hand from the couch cushion and grabbed Test Tube’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m glad that you understand. I truly feel lucky that he was able to ‘fix’ me at that moment. I know my number one priority is to just live and have fun. To do that, I must stay with him.”

Oddly enough, the tears never came as he brought her into a big, warm hug. She leaned into him, wrapping her own arms around him.

“We’ll still be partners, right?” Her voice almost wheezed out.

For a few seconds, she wished that he would stay quiet so that she could enjoy the hug for as long as she could. Test Tube would forever beat herself up for cutting it so short.

He leaned back away from the hug, keeping his hands on her shoulders and looking up at her. “No matter how far away we are, we’ll still be connected because of the whole shitstorm we’ve been through together.” His lips curled up to a familiar, playful smirk. “Just because Nickel and I need to venture our own path doesn’t mean we won’t ever want to see you again, huh?” He nudged her shoulder with his elbow. “Plus, when Nickel grows old and grey, I can just give my body to Apathy and have him shut my portion of the program off so that we can spend whatever the fuck kind of afterlife there is together.”

“I love you, Kni— ...Nem.” Test Tube ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll miss the both of you.”

He stood up and ruffled her hair. “I love you too, Test Tube. You better be gone by the time Nickel and I get back.” He finished with a teasing laugh, stressed by the motion of his body stretching when he reached for the apartment’s front door.

As he reached out to the doorknob, Test Tube stood up. “Goodbye!”

“Goodbye?” To that, he furrowed his brows, visibly confused. “Don’t say goodbye to me like you’re gonna die or some shit. It’s a ‘see ya later,’ dumbass. Now go talk to that doctor then leave before I end up activating the crying program or somethin’.”

Just as quick as he sat down, he was gone. Disappeared out of the apartment room like he up and vanished into thin air. And Test Tube could still feel the faint touch of his skin on her own— just as close and caring when they danced together at that wretched casino. She found herself wrapping her arms around her own self, her lips drooping to a frown and quivering as she began to grow closer to tears. Her hand found its way to her eye, parting her fingers so she could still see. Though her vision quickly blurred from the pricking sensation of tears.

“Damn. He really brought up Marshmallow and Paintbrush like that? Are you alright? You look disturbed.”

Test Tube snapped her head towards the room where Suitcase was and  met eye to eye with the doctor, who was wrapping his stethoscope up and placing it haphazardly on the kitchen island.

In an instant, Test Tube rose to her feet, sniffling and hurrying to him. “Is Suitcase alright?!”

“Fortunately she is in stable condition. I mean after hearing all of the absurdity that all of you have been through, it’s amazing that any of you are in stable conditions.” His fingers drummed on the kitchen counter. “I’ll have to stay here and watch over Suitcase.”

She couldn’t help but smile knowing that a professional would be with her. “Thanks, Fizz.”

“Oh no,” he raised his hands, “please don’t thank me. It only makes the situation more real to me and I don’t want to keep thinking about it.”

Test Tube nodded and grabbed the broken cell phone that she was tinkering with earlier and a small sandwich bag, letting it rest inside of the bag and even more securely in her pocket, along with 3GS.

There was nothing she really wanted to say to him. She never even really acknowledged his short-lived presence in the show when he had to haul Box off to the hospital when he got severely injured in that one episode. None of that was her business, and he had enough guilt for one day.

Until, that is, she felt an idea boil up in her head. “Wait, do you have any idea where Box is?” She pointed a finger to the doctor. “Did Nickel say anything about where he was headed?”

Half shrugging, he rolled his eyes. “No clue whatsoever, sorry. All Nickel said was that he was going to look for someone named Ballpoint Pen.”

She scratched her chin, humming in thought. “Right. It’s alright. Thanks.” She huffed and stood up, giving one final glance to Apathy’s head on the coffee table. Without another word, she grabbed a leather coat off of the ground (belonging to Nemesis,) and hurried out without a second glance.

One step in front of the other, in time at a quickening pace.

She could even hear Nemesis and Nickel laughing in the laundry room as she vacated the apartment building, hoisting herself up into the vehicle that she and her group stole just hours before.

“God…” She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles whitening as they curled tighter and tighter, strangling the thing.

Her arms began to shake.

Her body began to tremble.

Then, she exhaled. It was short. It was sweet. Clean and clear air filled her lungs, and her fingers loosened around the wheel. Her head was no longer fuzzy, and she even forgot why she was so worked up in the first place.

Things happen. Shit happens.

From her pocket, 3GS slid out and fell into the passenger seat. Its screen was on, displaying the usual pixelated face full of either worry or concern. At this point, both of those words seemed to be absolutely identical.

She could see it from the corner of her eye. It was analyzing her and trying to read her expressions; trying to ascertain what part of the puzzle they should even begin at now.

“You have something to say?” She muttered with a sneer. “We had to leave everyone. They need to rest. It is just you and me now, 3GS. You might as well just come out and say whatever is on your mind,” she sighed and leaned back into her seat.

While waiting for the phone to speak up she started the car.

“Oh,” she continued, “and we found this busted phone.” She grabbed the plastic bag with the shattered phone inside and tossed it next to 3GS. “If you can tell me what model it is, that would be great. I need to know what tools to buy at the store to fix it. I tried to do it earlier, but stuff happened.”

Before the car could fully pull out of the parking spot in the lot, 3GS stuttered as loud as it could.

“Th-This phone is really old!” It gasped. “I’m pretty sure that the proper tools necessary wouldn’t be available for regular purchase. You’d have to get it repaired at a phone store, and the only ones that really fix phones of any brand are all monitored by Meeple anyways…”

Test Tube felt her sanity begin to snap away one thread at a time.

“...Unless you already own the tools.” 3GS finished with a murmur.

Her brows lowered and her frown persisted. “What do you mean?” She backed the car out of the parking lot and got onto the road. The speckled drumming of sprinkling rain began to pitter-patter along the hood and roof of the car.

Then it struck her.

“I am not going back to that fucking hotel just for my old laboratory supplies.”

Chapter Text

“When you love someone they never truly leave. They’re always with you, in your mind and soul. In your heart, maybe? You think about them. You both occupy each other, if that makes sense.”

“Could you expand on that idea, Pepper?”

“Well with Salt and Trophy, me and Cheesy have—”

Test Tube’s hand shot to the radio’s volume knob, twisting it all the way down so she wouldn’t have to hear the radio station any longer. Sprinkles of raindrops hitting the windshield weren’t as heart wrenching as the interview that coincidentally had to be airing at that moment.

“You should unclench your jaw.”

As the car stopped at a red light, Test Tube looked over to the passenger seat, where 3GS had itself in its human shaped form just like when she found it at the Meeple factory. A crack was shooting over the majority of its screen like face, but she could tell that it was trying to give an encouraging smile.

Her eye darted back to the empty intersection, staring into the familiar redness of the stoplight and steadying herself by gripping the steering wheel once more. The grooves in the wheel, however, were still a newish texture to her. Each cavity her fingers fit perfectly in were not the ones she was used to. Why was she here? And why was she light headed?

Red shifted to green, and she lightly stepped on the gas.

Despite her lips quivering to keep from letting out soft sobs, she forced her voice to come out. “You do not have to act like you care about me, you know.” She pawed tensely at the wheel, not daring to look away from the rainwater and the road ahead of her. “You are a machine. After all,” inhaling sharply, she brought her voice to a mutter. “You are just doing what you are programmed to think is right.”

The android shuffled in its seat. “If I was doing what I was programmed to do then I would be, well, not keeping you alive that’s for sure.” It folded its hands on its lap. “My initial directive was to take and steal. But now, I’m here with you. You rescued me from being in that closet all alone and abandoned.”

A tall, orange building grew closer in the distance.

Sullen orange, almost dilapidated.

“Abandoned…” She repeated to herself.

Closer and closer to the building, she realized that it had barely even aged. Though the paint outside was chipped a little, and some of the windows were boarded off with weathered and greenish plywood, if it just received a few touch ups it would have looked just as normal as it used to be. It was built to be a tough building, after all.

Now it had chain link fences around it as well, and the outside of it had an overgrown lawn that even grew through the parking lot. Cracks dipped and dashed through the concrete, making the vehicle rumble when driving on it. As the car came to a stop upon finding a good enough parking spot, the drizzling rain began to pick up to a downpour. The clouds whisked the sunlight away, giving the building an eerie air of darkness around it.

Not that Hotel OJ didn’t already have a distinct tension to it. This one seemed less malicious and more sorrowful. The trees around it hung with heavy leaves, weeping the rain onto the walls and dripped down in tearful, heavy droplets.

Even if she was in the car, she could tell that it had gotten colder outside. Not only from the clouds that curtained away the sunlight, but from the wind that began to breeze as evident by the swaying jungle of a lawn and the trees shaking in a panic.

Upon scanning the area, she unfortunately couldn’t see the vending machine that gave access to her lab anywhere, nor could she see a path of any kind that would allow her underground.

She slipped off the coat she wore and handed it to 3GS, who hesitated before looking at her with a look of worry and croaked. “Won’t you be cold, Test Tube? Surely you aren’t giving me this coat to keep me from getting wet, right?”

“Take it,” she muttered, “Who knows what will happen if you get yourself too wet. I’ll be sure to dry you off inside of the hotel.”

It slowly took the coat and held it over itself, pushing out of the car and running to the hotel’s front doors. Test Tube quickly opened the car door on her side as well, then slammed it shut to follow.

Puddles splashed beneath her with each time her foot pounded against the concrete. She could barely see through the rain. Even if she had her hands around her glasses to keep them from getting wet, the rain still shot onto the lenses like heat-seeking bullets.

Then, there was nothing.

Only darkness; Nothing that her sight could make out.

Well she was also drenched in rain water, so there was also the sensation of being weighed down by that. And she was cold. Very, very cold.

“Hey,” 3GS called, “the light switch isn’t working, so I’ll check to see if there is a breaker box anywhere. I can see in the dark, so it would be best if I go and you stay while I work on it.”

Test Tube leaned against a wall and sighed. “There should be a staircase that leads both up and down. In the basement there should be a breaker. Try to see if it works.”

3GS hummed in confirmation, and its footsteps echoed further and further away from her.

Lightning struck far away, quickly illuminating the room with a split second of flashing light. Loud, bassy booms of thunder followed, making her heart leap to her tightening throat. She held her arms out, waving them to make sure nothing was in the way as she walked slowly to where the couch used to be in the living room.

Or was currently, since she felt herself immediately bumped into it. She slowly grazed her fingertips along it, expecting much dust, but feeling nothing coating on her fingertips.

No dust whatsoever.

Tentatively she convinced herself to sit, slowly letting her body sink into the cushions. The plushness of the couch was quite surprising to her, as it felt exactly the same as when she last sat on it. Leaning her head back, she sighed from relief. Her body felt heavy and weightless all at the same time, like floating in a vast sea of darkness. The rain was static to her— a now pleasant white noise that lulled her to close her eye to try to sleep.

She adjusted her body, laying her feet on one arm of the couch and her head on the other like she was laying on a bed. God, how long it had been since she properly laid on furniture rather than sleeping on the floor or in the car.

“...Test Tube.”

Her body shot upright in an instant, looking around the dark living room. She could barely make out the outlines of what was probably furniture, but definitely no other human in the premises. There was definitely someone that had just whispered in her ear, and she did not like who it sounded like at all.

After looking around in the dark some more, she brought her hands up to hold her shoulders.

The room was cold again.

“Test Tube!”

She almost fell off of the couch this time, seeing what she saw appear next to her. A soft red light, swirling with a ghostly glow. Its lower half seemed to be nonexistent. Instead of having legs, it had a spiky, red tail. In its upper half was the regular torso of a human, except with a huge gaping hole where a laser had shot through it.

Fan’s ghost?

“I just knew you’d come back for me some day,” the ghost leaned in towards her with a big loving smile. “I knew you would change your mind!” His eyes seemed to soften as he cupped his pale, glowing red hand on her cheek. It was cold, and seemed to phase through her a little bit as well. “You’re just as pretty as I remember! Do you remember me, Test Tube?”

Her throat was stuck.

His smile stayed. It wasn’t as menacing as Ven’s, nor as sly as Ego’s. It was soft and understanding. That damned smile that fooled her the first time her friends had been executed in the damned hotel. “The afterlife isn’t too kind to me, but now that I can see you I’m actually really excited believe it or not! None of the other spirits are wanting to talk to me, so I’m so happy to be able to be heard!”

“You’re not real,” she choked. “Bow is the only ghost I’ve ever encountered. You…”

“If you think about it Bow’s existence just confirms there’s a possibility of ghosts running around, right?” He brought his other hand to her cheek. “And here I am! Oh, your poor eye… I’m so sorry, my love.”

“Love?!” She instinctively went to grab his wrist, but her hand phased through. “You need to get away from me, now. I don’t want to talk to you.” She stood up from the couch and gripped her hair. “I can’t keep doing this— Going through all this stress of thinking about you! I want to move on!”

“Tube?” His voice was hoarse with worry.

“Leave me alone! I-I don’t love you!” She shouted. “Get away from me! Please, I beg you, give me a break! Stop it! I can’t fucking see this again! Just the thought of you fills me with unease and dread!”

Another ghost appeared to float in from another room, glowing with a golden hue and a distinct scowl on it’s face. “Jesus what’s going—- Oh.” It stopped in its tracks. “Oh, shit.”

Upon seeing Trophy’s face, Test Tube let the lightheadedness get to her, allowing for her body to fall in a faint.

Chapter Text

Test Tube stirred, slowly blinking and taking in the sight of the hotel living room. Familiar to her, yet different in many ways such as: dust almost caking some of the tables, with some spots wiped. The furniture was odd in that sense as well. Some tables and chairs were covered with dust, yet the couch she fainted on was almost brand new, and the dining table was clean as well. The carpet on the floor, while looking heavily used, didn't necessarily seem worn out from weathering like the outside of the hotel.

“Faint…” Test Tube put a hand on her head, finally remembering that she fainted from seeing… Something quite odd. A pressure squeezed at her rib cage again, sending a shot of cold adrenaline up her spine. It radiated through her jaw as she pushed herself off of the couch.

“Hello?” She called out. “Is there anyone here? 3GS?”

Her arms went down to her sides as she poked around. She looked through the kitchen doorway. Nothing. Even trying to open the door where 3GS disappeared proved to go nowhere, as it wouldn’t budge no matter how much force she applied to open it.

Finally she let the knob go. Her shoulders fell.

But there was a sudden drop in temperature, making the hair on the back of her neck stand and practically freezing her in place. A pressure around her waist.

God, not again.

“Test Tuuube!” An echoing voice called out from under her. “I was waiting for you to wake up!”

She looked down, watching the vague shape of a small, red man with that same gaping hole in his body wrap his pale and misty arms around her, enveloping her in his crisp icy air under the guise of a warm heart.

This time she knew she could stay awake. This wasn’t her first rodeo with ghosts, nor was it her first rodeo with the ghost of Fan.

She stepped back, walking through his arms and bumping into the arm of the couch. As she hit the couch, she could only let the current topics on her mind slip out. “Leave me alone. Where’s 3GS?”

“I have no idea what that is!” Fan lied, shrugging cartoonishly, which squished his ghostly guts from the hole in his body. “It’s just you and me!”

“S-Stop playing with me,” Test Tube held a hand on her head. “You are dead. This is not happening…”

The thing floated forward, closer to her, holding out his hands to cup her face. His eyes, while his entire body and face were a bright mistifying pink, were veiny and bloodshot. If he were human, she would have thought he’d been crying for hours and hours before showing up in front of her. The cold touch of his hands trickled on her skin once more, calling for her goosebumps to arise once more.

She waved her arms in a frenzy, thrashing through the icy haze that mimicked the crazed killer.

He turned around, spinning and floating higher to the roof. Letting out a laugh of sickening glee, his eyes went just as wide as his smile. “I’ve been so excited to talk to you! To talk to… Well, anyone really! The others don’t really like to acknowledge my existence because of what I did all those years ago!”

By golly if she were a computer she would have exploded from rate limitation just trying to intake the simple information being laid out in front of her.

“Others?!” Her hands trembled. “Everyone…” She looked down to the couch, watching her hands begin to twitch.

Fan looked back to her, tilting his head and pursing his lips. Then his eyes lit up, smiling again and wagging  his finger. “Yep! Salt, Trophy, OJ, Paper, Lightbulb, and me! Duh.” With each name he listed, Test Tube only felt her soul seep out of her body, like pressing a soaked kitchen sponge against a counter.

“Lightbulb…” Her knuckles went white, grasping the fabric of the old couch. Even though her chest was cold, her face went hot with rage. “You’re telling me you were all here, and I didn’t have to waste several years of my life, wasting away in my own fucking basement to try to bring you guys back?”

Fan hummed inquisitively. “What do you mean by that? I think you did a great job in recreating—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think!” Test Tube, against her gut telling her not to, looked Fan dead in the eyes. “If you’re telling the truth, if everyone is here as a ghost, then that means I could have just tried to build you all replacement bodies for you to possess instead of spending months and months staying up late and risking my own mental health for myself!”

She felt her body give out, letting herself fall to the couch and fold her arms, letting the tears spill through. No matter where she seemed to go, she simply could not catch a break.

Though she couldn’t see, she did hear a slight creak. Similar to the front door opening.

“Shit!” Fan hissed.

Test Tube looked up. She was expecting to see Fan still trying to get all lovey-dovey with her, but he was gone. She was dumbfounded as to how he just seemed to dissipate into thin air, but decided ghosts were probably the most unexplainable thing she’d ever encountered and just let it be.

Now her attention was focused on the person standing in the hotel doorway, dripping in rainwater. Someone she couldn’t even recognize.

She had puffy yellow and black hair and eyes with the shiniest gold someone would ever see in their life. Their gaze was beautiful, yet piercing just as sharply as the spiked collar and accessories they wore on their leathery jacket. Test Tube would have greeted her calmly while trying to hide her tears, but the woman’s brows furrowed angrily.

“Why are you in my house?!” Her voice wavered, holding up her hand pointing towards Test Tube’s face. Her hand had a deep hole in it with glowing green electricity coming from it. The same woman spoke again, this time with a more collected tone and trying to mutter. “Des, it’s not worth it to get angry.”

Her “claws” twitched, the green sparks in what appeared to be a hand-cannon shimmered even brightly.

The woman growled again. “I have every right to be angry. Now tell me: What the fuck are you doing in my home?!”

Test Tube’s words got caught in her throat. She had no clue why this person was angry, nor why they were talking to theirself. “S-Shelter seeking?”

“Get out.”

Test Tube stood up quickly and held her hands up to cover the sight of the bright light coming from the person’s palm. “Wait, please don’t shoot! I have a friend here! It was just looking for the power switch and got locked in the basement!”

“I can shoot as much as I goddamn please!” The woman’s eyes squinted with anger, until she shouted once more.

“Desire— That’s enough! ” The woman shook her hand, knocking her clawed hand-cannon off and revealing a normal hand. Her hair and eyes lost all golden colour and sheen and turned a deep, inky black.

The cannon on the ground shook, slowly turning into a green slime and then growing in size; It shaped into the form of a human girl. Dirty blonde shoulder length hair, golden eyes, and a yellow crop top.

“You don’t get to shoot people, especially Test Tube, just because you have some sort of shady past!” The woman in the leather jacket held an arm out in front of the goopy woman as she turned fully solid.

The woman scoffed and turned to the other woman, stomping her foot and putting her fists on her hips. “Oh well excuse me for having negative feelings about someone, Microphone!”

Test Tube cowered behind the couch as quietly as possible, watching the two of them bicker. Desire and Microphone? Such an unlikely duo— And hiding out in Hotel OJ with presumably the ghosts, no less. Just what the hell was happening here?

The scientist stood tall, reaching a hand out to Desire and lightly touching her shoulder. “You…”

Desire quickly shut herself up and looked at Test Tube with a bewildered expression.

“You’re okay?” Test Tube looked at her eyes. They were just as golden as she remembered: Sparkling as bright as a brilliant bulb, illuminating the whole world. Yet that light seemed to be in Test Tube’s imagination.

And she found herself hugging that light. Her arms were tightly wrapped around Desire, hugging her close and sobbing into her shoulder.

“I truly, truly thought Ego had hurt you. Or even done something worse to you,” Test Tube croaked into Desire’s shoulder.

The blonde hesitated for a bit, yet pat Test Tube’s back. “I’m still not alright with you being here. I’m not one for forgiving right off the bat… But I guess I was being way too harsh about trying to kill you as soon as I saw you in our home.”

Test Tube pried herself off of Desire, looking away in embarrassment. Her eyes met Microphone, who was watching the two while awkwardly pushing her hands in her jacket pockets. When Mic noticed her staring, she slipped a hand out and waved. “Hey, Test Tube!” Her laugh was just as awkward. “I have no clue why you’re here, but it’s a pleasant surprise! Sorry for Caprice trying to kill you; it was mainly just Desire calling that shot.”

Test Tube waved her hands quickly. “It is alright! I am alive, after all!”

Desire walked towards the basement door, jiggling it a bit. After pushing the door knob in a specific angle, she opened it, blinked quickly and let her eyes glow like flashlights, then let herself walk downstairs— Presumably to find the friend (3GS) that Test Tube mentioned.

“Caprice…” Test Tube muttered. “You two had amalgamated into one and formed a more powerful being?”

Microphone raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah? That’s what Meeple is doing to their newer MePhones. They pumped that green globby shit into Desire and now we can do it willingly,” Microphone kicked the front door shut with her thick combat boots and made way to the couch, wrapping an arm around Test Tube to make her follow. “You didn’t know about that?”

Oh boy. Here lies Test Tube’s social meter. Cause of death: Having to retell the same story of the past few years to someone because they had no clue about the grander scheme of things. And each and every time, they were shocked. No matter the amount of information they already knew, the person who had to hear it would always find out about the shocking detail of Test Tube’s morbid adventure of death and risk. It was tiring, really.

“God, that must have been so stressful!” Mic placed a hand on her chest. “Well don’t worry, you’re safe here. I’m hoping you didn’t see any of the ghosts. They don’t really come out when the two of us are home, but we know they’re here.”

Test Tube clutched her own hand. “Yeah I, uh… Have not seen them,” she lied. “I just need access to my old lab to grab some things and I will be out of your hair afterwards.”

A voice came from behind the two of them. “Not staying?”

Test Tube turned, meeting eye to eye with Desire. 3GS stood behind her with his hands behind his head and looking away from them all.

“Good,” Desire muttered, “we’ll give you access then you need to leave.”

Test Tube shook her head. “I can’t just stay for shelter at least until the rain clears? Why are you acting this way towards me?”

With that, Desire’s jaw slacked. “Really?” She cackled, “You’re kidding me, right? You’re confused why I, the robot you built to replace someone you obsessed over, are uncomfortable with you being here with me?!”

Something ignited within Test Tube with that statement. How dare someone, especially one who didn’t know the specifics of what Test Tube’s mind was going through, claim that she was obsessed with them all like that. “I was NOT obsessed,” Test Tube leaned in, looking down at Desire, “It was merely an experiment.”

“Oh!” Desire threw up her hands. “Yeah! You create robots against their will and hope they act like someone you lost! Real creative, Test Tube! As if that didn’t fucking fail the first time!”

A weight swelled against Test Tube’s lungs. She began to grind her teeth, fists shaking once more. “Don’t fucking bring Bot into this. You shouldn’t know about them.”

“Surprise surprise! I do now!” Desire exaggerated her gesticulations with each word; Possibly as a way to vent her anger. “This is what happens when you try to fuck with creating aware machines! You get ones like me who actually feel irate about what you’ve done!”

What a joke this argument was. “And why would you feel irate about experiencing the joys of life, huh?!”

“YOU DIDN’T LOVE ME FOR ME, YOU LOVED ME BECAUSE YOU LOVED LIGHTBULB!” Desire sharply sucked air through her teeth and crossed her arms, facing away from Test Tube.

3GS and Mic glanced at each other with the widest eyes ever for a beat, then looked back at the two of them, expecting more to spill out.

“Every single one of us, save for Vengeance, felt absolutely betrayed that you wanted us to be exactly like someone else. You wanted us to fill a void in your life. I know we were programmed to do all that jazz, but it just doesn’t feel good to be a square block forced into a triangle hole,” She sniffed softly, finally looking at Test Tube with watery eyes. “You keep programming and building and engineering and toying with codes and AI, and it might make you happy for a while, but that time will always be fleeting and destroy you in the end.

“And every day, ever since Ego told us our true purpose and helped us escape your house, I cried. I would cry myself to sleep every single night in the motels we’d check ourselves into. You loved your past friends too much. You loved her way too much to just let your grief be grief. You grew addicted. Hell, you even made my programming address me as ‘Desire,’ and the only reason why I keep it as a name is because it’s badass!”

Desire sighed, and Microphone laid a hand on her shoulder.

“You just keep going and going, unaware of how much it hurts others. It’s funny, because when I found and watched Inanimate Insanity, I saw a very intelligent and friendly woman who understood exactly what her friends needed when she really put her mind to it, but in reality you’re a fraud who’s addicted to the small doses of praise from people. You didn’t create us so that we could replace your friends; You created us to experience the feeling of achieving something and keeping us in the dark.”

She reached into her pants pocket and threw a small key chain to Test Tube, who caught it swiftly and gripped her fingers around it tightly.

“Shocking, isn’t it?” Desire chuckled. “For someone who hates Ego so much, you sure do act so much like him in terms of your creations.” She leaned back against the wall. “Just take your shit and go.”

Chapter Text

The rain was even heavier now, and there Test Tube was: Standing outside trying to push the key into the rusty old hatch in the yard of the hotel.

Unfortunately the vending machine was stripped from the lawn, making access harder than she remembered. Admittedly she was a little thankful, as she had completely forgotten the entry button order. There was no chance in hell she would have been able to get into it if the vending machine hadn’t been taken away.

Rain obscured her already poor vision, making her curse intensely under her breath. It was cold, and the rain was pricking her skin through her thin shirt. And now that she thought about it, she had been crying and shaking for the past few hours when she'd entered the damn place.

She knew it was useless to come back. All this drama and nonsense for a few specific tools to fix a specific brand of phone that somehow just landed on her doorstep. Usually, regular people would have kicked that phone to the curb and deem it unrepairable, or even take it into a repair shop and see if they could fix it. Though, for the past few years she wasn’t exactly part of the world’s “regular people” anymore.

After trying to turn the key in the lock for what seemed to be the millionth time, she threw her hands into the air and let out a loud groan, shaking her hands angrily to stim out the anger.

“Fine!” She screamed out. “You won’t fucking unlock?! Good! It’s not like I care or anything!” She looked down at her new boots. They were thick and clunky. Microphone had a few spare ones and graciously donated a pair to Test Tube. While they were chunky, they were fine for going outside in such weather.

And in an instant, she stomped on the door with all her might. For a minute, she couldn’t believe what she had done in the moment of adrenaline, but it’s not like anyone had seen her. So, she kept kicking the door with all her might, leaving the tiniest dents known to man speckled around the surface. Letting out her anger like this was something her therapist recommended not to do, but once she got a taste of it, it just left her breathless.

Not in terms of wanting to do it again of course. Definitely not. But, this feeling was something other than that. Like she deserved to finally just hit something. Her body had been itching every day, trembling with fear and anxiety and keeping her guard up just in case someone had been sneaking up on her. In case anyone, or anything, from Meeple had decided that they knew her exact location at this very moment.

As if a creature were behind her, watching her closely.

Whipping herself around, she looked behind her into the forest that was by the hotel. The lab door was pretty far, so if her senses were right at this moment, then there would be no way for her to make it before they took her.

“Who’s there?!” Test Tube adjusted her body, widening her stance in case she had to flee the premises. “Answer me you stupid Meeple fucks! I can probably run ten times faster than your idiot legs can!”

For someone who hates Ego so much, you sure do act so much like him…

Yeah… Yeah! She could just sweep them in their legs and watch them crumble. She would watch them sizzle and break down in the rain. And if they were waterproof, then she would rip them open one by one. Rip out their wiry insides and metals, yanking them out with her hands until her fingers would bleed, watching as the devices sent to spy on her would writhe and let out the screams that they were programmed to do if hurt.

Before letting her instincts take over and beat the shit out of the lab entrance any more, a small cry came from the overgrowth of weeds and grass.

Her nose scrunched. She was just about to sit on the ground, but the sharp and high-pitched noise made her decide otherwise. She knew that something was there, but instinctively thought it was a ploy. Was this a trap from Meeple? She walked off of the dirt road and into the grass, listening to the almost rhythmic squeaks. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it was a really loud mouse or something of the like.

The plants and grass burrs scratched and pricked at her legs through her pants, but she did not yield. She’d been through worse. And even if this was a trap, perhaps shame on her for falling for it. Shame on her for having a curious soul.

Once the cries grew closer, she found an overgrowth of plants. It looked almost like a canopy, shading a small creature yet not enough to keep the rain from pelting at it.

A small Scottish Fold kitten. A runt, at that. The tiniest creature she had ever laid her sight on by far. It was a soft grey, and sopping wet from the rain. It was shivering and struggling to even look up due to the rain. The kitten was shaking, pushing out its cries to the best of its ability, stressing its little lungs and crying its heart out in hopes that someone— ANYONE would hear it.

And fortunately, Test Tube was just in the nick of time.

She ripped her torn coat off, immediately scooping up the kitten in her shaky hands and wrapping it as lovingly as she could in the coat and shielding it with her palm to keep the rain from touching it anymore. She looked up, scanning the area and noticing more movement in the unkempt lawn. A hissing emerged, as well as a long, thin animal.

Coming from out of the leaves was a huge snake; another creature that was an abnormal size that Test Tube hadn’t seen in real life before. Its teeth were probably the size of her own thumbs if she didn’t know any better. The snake let out a deafening hiss, cutting through the sound of the rain.

Test Tube clutched the kitten wrapped in her coat close to her chest as closely as she could, closing her eye and pushing her legs to run back to the hotel. She didn’t care if Desire didn’t want to see her anymore, she was going to make sure this thing was alive and well before she ever even thought about following a robot’s demands; especially one who had no clue just what was going on and what Test Tube had been through to get here.

Her legs felt like they were going to burst into flames while pushing to run as fast as she could. Admittedly that whole thing about being able to run faster than a MePhone android was complete and utter bullshit that was just supposed to make her feel better for being an absolute newbie when it came to properly running. Plus the rain made the ground all sticky and muddy, making her have to rip her boots out of the dirt road that was turning muddier by the minute.

“Mic!” She screamed as she grew closer to the hotel door. “Open the door! Open it!” She squinted and stopped herself as she stood on the porch. Pounding her fist on it, she scowled to herself. “It's urgent!”

The kitten was in Test Tube’s arms with a pipette of condensed milk (with some additional ingredients in it since no kitten formula was in the hotel). She held it snugly in a small fuzzy blanket. She was able to dry it off with a towel that Desire had in her bedroom.

It was content, and its ears wiggled all silly-like when it drank from the pipette. When it closed its eyes to drink the homemade formula, Test Tube could have sworn that it was smiling as if to thank her. And she understood the cat. There was no need for it to meow anymore.

“I bet that milk is helping your sore little throat…” She cooed, petting the space between its ears with her thumb. “You poor thing. Mama Test Tube is here.”

Mic sat next to her, looking at her petting the kitten. “Are you planning on keeping it?”

Test Tube was stumped for a moment. She’d never cared for an animal… The egg and Bot were, obviously, more like children to her. And with so much shit going on with her life, she’d be putting the creature in danger.

“Where’d you even find it?” Mic leaned in, watching the kitten continue drinking the milk.

“In the overgrown garden outside,” Test Tube said to her as she held the kitten tighter. “I kind of want to call it…” Her voice trailed off. By instinct she was drawn to the name Ven, though she quickly remembered all of the horrid memories that the name brought to her. “Perhaps Rejuvenation.”

Mic narrowed her eyes at Test Tube, and Desire popped her head out of the kitchen. “You are not naming that poor ass cat that long name.”

“Too bad,” Test Tube called. “It is mine now.”

Now that she had Rejuvenation at a closer point of view, it was obvious that it wasn’t young like she was lead to believe. At first glance the kitty looked to be one week old, but upon closer inspection and watching it look around, it was obviously a few weeks older than that. Probably nine to ten, maybe even a little older. (This was thanks to 3GS, who luckily had a few bars left to do a little research.)

Softening a little, Test Tube held Rejuvenation closer to her chest. Nothing could ruin this moment for her. Not even the ghosts that she knew were watching them all from around the corner.

Chapter Text

Taco was never a fan of having to have her consciousness imported to another hollow and humanoid body, but she wasn’t a stickler for this kind of stuff. While the process of dying and waking up into a new body would always give her quite the scare, that horror was quickly subsided with the knowledge that her strength and dexterity would be updated to a bigger and better scale than her previous version.

“I can’t keep doing this for you,” Cabby removed her goggles and wheeled herself to another place in the room. “Ego’s going to find out about this some time, you know he will.”

The cyborg stretched her fingers out and in, hearing no pops whatsoever. Her ball joints were slick and never caught. That was one of the things she admired about Cabby’s robotic engineering: The fact that she didn’t have to worry about body pains while on the job.

She could only quirk a brow to Cabby’s statement. With a stifled chuckle and quick blinking, she let her eyes settle in the dimly lit workroom and found steady eye contact with the woman in front of her. “You think I haven’t trained for the day I finally kick that bastard’s ass? I have more than enough skill to crush his skull into the pavement, my dear Cabby.” Taco crossed a leg over the other and propped her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on her thigh.

“Well,” Cabby twirled a wrench in her fingers as if they were a drumstick, “have you actually seen the man fight?”

“Have you seen me fight?” Taco spat a retort.

Cabby rolled her eyes and placed her wrench onto her work desk. “I wouldn’t think I’d have to, seeing as I’ve brought your consciousness to one of your replica bodies for the fifth and hopefully the final time!” She huffed and began scribbling on some paper. “Seriously, you’d think you’d be more careful.”

“I am!” Taco’s eyes widened. “It’s just a case of unluckiness, dear.” She hopped off of her seat, smirking when the heels of her black dress shoes clicked on the floor upon landing. Before Cabby could open her mouth once more, Taco shushed her and wagged a finger. “And yes, I do know that this is my final body. Perhaps that makes me… stronger?” A sheepish smile crept across her lips.

The engineer turned from her bench and looked Taco in the eye. As if on cue, a strand of her periwinkle hair fell from the side of her bun and onto her face. She looked as if she were about to  have a blood vessel pop in her forehead.

Taco found her jaw clenching. “W-Was it something I said?”

“Don’t tell me you just let Cupidity kill you because you wanted to be updated,” Cabby pushed herself closer to Taco. Her face was contorted with rage— Taco could have sworn steam would have come out of her ears if she wasn’t human.

Before Cabby could say anything else, she closed her eyes and lifted her hands from her wheels and closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. For a few seconds she was there just taking in deep breaths to calm herself down. It was awkward for Taco, but she just brushed it off. Soon after, Cabby opened her eyes and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, adjusting them to a better position that she preferred. It was then that Taco noticed Cabby had a parcel on her side, resting on her hip in her wheelchair seat. Last time Taco saw the damned thing, it was way thinner than how it is today.

“I know that you think you know what you’re doing, Taco.” Cabby unzipped her bag and took out a folder with the label Meeple Inc. on it, flipping it open and running her fingers through tabs in it. “Trust me when I say that I know that you’re cunning and have an amazing skill in stealth and sleight of hand, but you haven’t seen the things Ego’s done to Test Tube’s robots.”

From the bag, between her fingers, was a rich and deep yellow file. “You can read it. Just know that it isn’t what you’d expect.”

She sharply pointed the file towards Taco. With a slow and hesitant hand, Taco felt the weight of the file transfer to her own palm. The information in the file must have been of great quality.

“And you wrote all of this down, why?” Taco looked up at her.

Cabby’s lips tightened to a line as her head angled downwards. A worried gleam shone across her glasses as she glanced towards the door. “As much as I didn’t want to, I knew I had to. Whether it was because of the police or a situation such as this, someone would have needed it.” She pushed herself to the exit. “I know we haven’t interacted much in the show, nor have we interacted at our following ‘jobs,’ but just know that my files are important to me— They’re my aides. Please just remember to give it back to me when you’re done, okay?”

Not another word was uttered from Taco about the file in those few minutes of Cabby leaving the room. And while Taco did hear her addressing someone, she dared not to eavesdrop. Even if she did, the name she caught from the loud conversation was someone who she had no knowledge on anyway. No matter what this ‘Silver Spoon’ or ‘Candle’ did, they weren’t of Taco’s concern right now.

The thick file was tossed onto the desk that was now in front of her with a quiet thud, making a cup of pencils and other writing utensils rattle shortly. And Taco pressed the beginning of the file, biting her lip and taking in a deep breath, turning it open to allow herself to take in just whatever information might be as life changing as Cabby’s tonation hinted it to be. On the first page, it read as so:

“Meeple Inc., under Ego’s supervision in his branch, has been dealt with tipping their toes in a variety of human genetics and DNA-altering abilities; I.E. merging MePhones with humans, using spyware to further their Mephones’ database on human emotions, using human DNA to make their MePhones seem more human & trustworthy to consumers, and other horrors that will not be named for my own sake.

“Such topics have brought great discomfort to not only me, but two other women involved with Meeple’s work. Clover, a close associate of mine, had already made her escape out of the company and out of the country as a whole to seek refuge from the company’s wrath. I applaud her escape, and I soon wish to be as free as her. The other woman involved, Desire, is a robot built by an old friend of mine. Ego has seemed to have convinced her to join, and has been working with her to get a feel of how her systems work.

“That old friend, Test Tube, has been marveled by many due to her own individual advances in science. Though a traumatic event has thus spiraled her into a life of endless grief and despair. If anything, I’d have to blame her for causing this entire mess. Would that make her a villain in her own way? (I’m kidding, but now that I’ve joked about it, perhaps this is all happening due to her never wanting to let go.)

“Though let’s keep my own rant aside for another day. Test Tube’s robotics have been hailed as truly gifted before she decided to hole herself up for months and months on end. It’s obvious as to why Ego wanted to learn to replicate it. He wants to use her own technology against her. It could give him just the ego-boost he needs to do something more heinous down the line. Why else would he believe that using honeyed words and a big charming smile would lure people into a false sense of security?

“Desire has worked with him on dissecting her own servos and circuits, ergo she cannot be trusted despite her own runaway status. I must find her and get rid of her before she realizes Ego might have more of a control on her than she would like. Just because she sees herself as free and has escaped his clutches, I fear that something inside of her is just taking in information and keeping it inside, then feeding it to the roots of the corporatocracy that is Meeple. She is giving information to Ego.

“Such information, I’ve speculated might be: Test Tube’s whereabouts (If Desire has realized that her hatred for Test Tube is misplaced and met up with her), what to expect from human & robot fusion (she has confided in me before that she wants to experience such a bond, as such fusion is deemed by the MePhones & Meeple as its own trust? It would be intriguing to learn how robots form relationships, as I’m nothing but human. Very fascinating; I will explore this in the future.), and overall how her human emotions that Test Tube has programmed into the database have an effect on her choices and words.

“Either she must be taken care of, or she must prove to me that none of this is true.”

For a few more minutes, Taco had read through the entire file. Theory upon theory of what Ego had been planning were piling up on one another with each paragraph. There were diagrams of each bond he had, each company connection he’d made in his time of working there. If anything, he was like if Cobs had been actually helpful to the company instead of hiding in the shadows and letting him do the work.

She felt like she had to vomit from it all. It was foolish of her to trust that Ego had the best intentions for her in mind when taking her in under his wing when she was on the run, but perhaps she had that kind of manipulation coming due to her track record.

She shut the file and paced around. The first thing she wanted to do before reading this was to run to Microphone and embrace her, letting her know that she was indeed okay and that she never wanted to be involved with the Meeple business again.

But this file had confirmed a thought that bounced around in the back of her mind. She knew there was unfinished business. The thought was an itch that was unable to be scratched, and it seems now that it’s been scratched hard enough to classify as an open and bleeding wound. She was lucky enough to have Cabby make such robotic modifications to her own consciousness and have Ego be none the wiser, though.

She found herself in the living room, watching Cabby argue with a tall, lanky man wearing gaudy and silver clothes. His hair was silvery as well, with what seemed to be artificial glitter as he wildly gesticulated every word he said.

“You think that I don’t know what it’s like to care for a loved one’s safety?!” His transatlantic accent was immediately noticeable, and in a way it fit his character and the show he put on.

Taco could spot a person putting on a superior personality as a facade from a mile away.

He continued to shout as if he hadn’t noticed Taco standing and watching the two. “I’ve been harboring not only migraines, but pains in my very own chest worrying about Candle, you hear me?! I’ve done nothing but suspect that Ego’s done something to her since you decided to chuck that phone onto a random fucking doorstep! That was my last line of connection, Cabby!”

“You insolent prick, I know how you feel about your wife!” Cabby crossed her arms. “I tossed that phone because we shouldn’t trust any brand of device. You do know that if you trace them all back to the source, Meeple is there? It’s common knowledge, but I doubt someone like you would want to push the curtains back and look at the set behind the stage, huh?” Once she noticed Taco (Taco was now waving slightly to gain her attention), she fully turned to her with a worried look.

“You’re finished with it already?”

Taco gave one last glance to the file, then held it out for Cabby to take back. “I’ve made up my mind just from the few pages I’ve read. I’ll stick with you and kill Desire. Though I will add, we should think about treading this carefully. Test Tube has great emotion towards her creations, evil or not.”

Cabby’s file was rightfully back with its owner, and she chuckled and shook her head as she put it back into her bag. “Yeah I’ve… I’ve seen how caring she is with such things first hand. In fact, I’ve even admired her for being able to put such things aside and care for another person.”

“You two were close, is what I’m assuming from what you’ve just said,” Taco leaned against the wall. “But I don’t think I’m interested in personal stories about her right now. I’d like to know more about this guy right here.” She pointed a finger towards Silver Spoon.

“Why I never,” He furrowed his brows and adjusted his collar. “I am more than heavily surprised that you didn’t tell her anything about me, seeing as I live here!”

“Silver Spoon is the guy that hit someone on the road with the company truck and got it sent to the pound,” Cabby smirked. “Ego gave him quite the talk-to!”

In the midst of their conversation, Silver Spoon left the room with an angry spiel about how he just couldn’t deal with Cabby’s ‘shenanigans’ anymore.

“And where is he off to?” Taco inquired.

“He was going to be the one to drive us to wherever the GPS in his car pings Desire, but just as I said that I’ve realized that I don’t trust his driving abilities. So it shall be you instead!” Cabby winked with a smile.

After the two shared a laugh, Cabby fiddled with her fingers.

“Taco,” She began, “I know that you left the show on bad terms with a lot of people, if not everyone in the cast.”

The robot shook her head in disbelief. “Where is all this coming from?”

Cabby lifted her palms and gave another weak laugh. “I know it’s very sudden, but I want you to know that there will be people who understand you and know that you had no other choice. You are not a villain, nor are you wrong for assuming that it was the best idea to hide your true identity. It was merely a defense mechanism, and now you can be as vulnerable as you want. Whether it be in private with me, or if you save such worries and emotion for your dear fiancée, Microphone,” She wheeled herself closer to the robot that she herself had fixed up. “Just know that I’ve experienced such hatred for it. I know you are a wonderful person who will make helpful choices. Don’t bother continuing this topic. I understand you feel uncomfortable with it.”

Following Cabby’s order, Taco changed the subject as the blush crept onto her cheeks. “Let’s… Go to the car now.

Chapter Text

In the months that slipped by, Test Tube’s schedule was full of her hunkered down in her dimly lit, old laboratory that was hidden beneath the ghostly soil of Hotel OJ. With Venven, her loving cat with a nickname that would surely help her be rid of the negative connotation of the name, she did not feel the need to waste her time with trying to mingle with 3GS, Desire or Microphone. It was obvious that the three of them would rather hang out with each other instead of worrying about the matters at hand.

The phone in front of her was a bigger cause of concern to her. While she was under the assumption that it wasn’t property of Ego’s Meeple, the battery inside of it said otherwise. She’d spent the past few weeks trying to reverse engineer it, as it was unlike any cellular device she worked on while held captive in Meeple’s facility with Nemesis.

Venven weaved between her ankles, its fur tickled at her ankles and purring with all its might. Lackadaisically it wobbled with a kitten-like love, nudging the same ankles with its cheeks, chin and forehead.

Unwilling to break her stride, Test Tube kept her focus on the tools and continued tinkering with the phone’s insides. “Not now, Venven. This phone is hard to crack and it requires my utmost attention seeing as this is a first for Meeple’s technology.”

The cat mewled and shook its head, trotting off to a corner that was covered with a heap of old, thin microfiber towels that were shaped to be resembling a cat bed.

“For someone who hates Ego so much, you sure do act so much like him in terms of your creations.”

No matter how long it had been since Desire shouted that string of words at her, Test Tube couldn’t bring herself to let it go. It echoed in her mind, stuck to the tiniest corners of her skull and chewed away at the wires of her mind and soul. She’d worked too hard to let something as simple as a petty insult bring her down, yet for some reason it really upset her.

And here she is now, letting such a silly thing bring tears forth as if she was allowed to be so weak. The light above her flickered as she set her tools down and hung her head in shame. Small hiccups erupted from her as she tried to choke back tears.

Her very own creation, something she so desperately thought would help her cope in her time of need, came back and bit her in the fucking ass. What a shame she was for letting her mind get caught up in her own world, thinking that abandoning one thing and moving onto the next would help her feel better. Shame on her for creating a sad, pathetic excuse of a story for those puppets to follow.

She was no longer the Test Tube that her friends knew during Inanimate Insanity. She could never get that life back. Since that dreaded massacre, her name constantly left a sour taste in her own mouth.

And yet she could not figure out a reason as to why she continued to work on the damned phone that lay on the table in front of her.

Was she enabling an unhealthy coping mechanism by wanting to take Ego down? Thinking to herself, she wiped her tears and looked up from the floor, staring at the phone and tools that were strewn about on the long table. Through the encounters of people telling her that she was in the wrong for trying to fix everything, she had kept going with wanting to find a way to bring Ego’s reign of terror to rest.

Though surely someone else would step up to bat.

Her hand found the small cable cutting knife she had tucked into a drawer, trembling and refusing to think twice about what she was going to do. And she placed the blade in front of her chest, on the left hand side where her cold, dead heart would be.

“Would killing yourself really help you in this situation?” Fan’s voice faded in from behind her back. The soft, red hue illuminated her workspace within each and every dreary space of her ‘project.’ While months had flown by without her uttering a word to Desire, Mic, 3GS and the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, she had been deliberately trying to keep herself from chatting it up with Fan.

Cold arms wrapped around her waist.

Her lips quivered once more, yet this time finally uttering out words to an actual listener, them being: “Why won’t you leave me alone? You’re nothing but a cracked image of what once was,” her voice similarly cracking with each word to come out. “I rarely dream, yet when I do it’s of you or that replica I made back then. I’ve made my mistakes yet I’m doing everything I can to repent for it, so why can’t you just leave me alone and let me wallow in peace?”

The shiver running down her spine didn’t feel like her own, or had she let her imagination get the best of her again? A deep hum came from the ghost’s vaguely nonexistent body. “Test Tube,” he began, “you are alone. If I’m just a spirit or apparition to you, then in a sense I’m not really here. You can simply deny my existence, just as you had for all those years of your therapy and supposed recovering. Is that not what healing is?”

Denying was not healing.

“How could I do so if you’re right there?” She watched as his hands wrapped around hers which wrapped around the blade. “Can’t you acknowledge the fact that I despise you?”

“You despise me but you’re still here with me. Still conversing with me.”

The light above her flickered. The goosebumps still stood and the hair on the back of her neck was still raised. A chuckle slipped out of her.

“You say we’re conversing but we’re not getting too much across,” her voice rasped, “so let’s talk.”

The blade was thrown across the room.

"Help me with this," she muttered, sliding the phone to Fan's view. "You know this brand better than I ever did, even now."

“Well,” Microphone ran a hand through Desire’s hair softly staring 3GS in the eyes. “We were kinda hoping you’d be able to help us at least try to get Test Tube out of her lab. The ghosts haven’t even come out since the day she first arrived. I don’t want it to end up with me trying to clean up her and Meeple’s mess all alone.”

The three of them were gathered in the hotel’s living room. Mic and Desire sat, wrapping arms around one another in a sloppy cuddle as the taller woman stroked Desire’s hair (just as she would with a previous partner).

The android that sat in Microphone’s lap scoffed.

“Like they even matter. They’re annoying and provide no substance or help to anything. They can’t even interact with real objects unless they’re severely angry…” She pursed her lips.

3GS’ blank yet curious expression was stupidly glued onto its face as it cocked its head to the side. “I don’t really know about the human psyche or psychology. I was a war general, not a therapist!” It leaned back in his chair, looking out of a nearby window at the cloudy night sky. “If I tried to bribe her out I’d be useless, wouldn’t you think? Maybe even make her want to hole up down there even more.”

Desire looked up at Microphone, who hummed in response to 3GS’ concerns.

The three of them barely knew of Test Tube’s plans, only that she’d taken the cat she found and kept herself working on some piece of shit phone in the lab ever since finding it. Microphone knew that Desire had some unreasonable bad blood with her creator, but recently it truly wasn’t helping their circumstances. She had to forgive. It didn’t matter if she wanted to forget, but she at least had to put on an act to get Test Tube the hell out of the lab. Hell, to at least eat something would be good enough for Mic.

Mic looked away from the woman in her lap and looked at the MePhone sitting in front of them, staring out of the window with a spacey and numb expression. A soft smile displayed on its screen as it watched the stagnant, dark marbley clouds preventing the moonlight from reaching the earth outside.

She could say that 3GS and her were the same sort of person, in a way. Grounded and balanced, for lack of a better word. The two of them wished to stay in the moment, while Desire wanted to get stuff done and was a force to be reckoned with.

“Before coming here, I was stuck in Test Tube’s pocket and experiencing some weird wonders of the world,” 3GS stood up and walked to the window. “Yet the moon keeps hiding from me. Isn’t that weird? The least it could do is show itself to me.”

Desire yawned. “The moon doesn’t have feelings, you know. You can probably see it tomorrow night.”

3GS turned around and leaned against the window sill and crossed its arms, looking to the ground. “You’re right, eventually it’ll have to show itself to everyone tonight.” It lowered its head, looking to the recently cleaned floor.

The three of them worked hard to clean today. It was Desire’s chore to mop and sweep earlier.

Desire shifted in Mic’s arms uneasily. “Don’t really like how cryptic you’re being, just tell me that you’re hinting that I should suck up the fact I was made in the image of some dead chick by a scientifically stupid woman and get on with it,” she sat up and shifted away from Microphone, leaning on the arm of the couch. “Neither of you understand the pain I’ve been through and you keep on refusing to understand.”

Microphone bit her bottom lip. She understood Desire’s pain all too good and well.

“Plus weren’t you literally built and shut down by Steve fucking Cobs?” Desire tilted her head as she yawned out her question. “Shouldn’t you, of all beings, understand why I don’t agree with talking to her? Sure I’ve shown that I can tolerate her being here, but that’s it.”

3GS’ screen flickered and his stance shifted. “I’m not saying that you truly have to forgive her, but you need to understand when you have to pretend.”

Good lord this was becoming a big can of worms.

The blonde chuckled slowly, then laughed. “Yeah, as if I don’t know how to pretend…” She lowered her head to her arms. “I’ve done nothing but pretend my whole life. I’m tired of having to pretend that I’m something I’m not, just so I can survive.”

“I had to keep pretending.” Microphone blurted out.

It was a mistake to be honest. Her mouth opened before the filter in her mind could even begin to do its god damned job. And she found herself spilling more than she ever wanted to; Sharing a story that meant so fucking much to her that she had kept hidden and buried deep down inside of her for such a long, agonizing time.

“At first I was nothing. In the show, not a whole lot of people liked me even when I was being myself. I was just being my genuine self and nobody really enjoyed my presence from what I can remember,” Mic rubbed the back of her neck. She rubbed her eyes. She rubbed her face. She apparently did anything to avoid eye contact at that very moment. It was as if she was watching herself from the third person, unable to control what she said or how she acted. And she continued to ramble.

“Then I was a pawn. Taco scooped me up under her wing. I could kind of tell she thought of me as just a tool for spying on the show, but as soon as I achieved something she couldn’t do, she began to think of me as a genuine ally. I found out I didn’t really have to pretend to get anyone to think I was useful, I just had to find the right person who would be proud of me for just being me and doing things that I could naturally do.

“Even if you don’t like Test Tube, you need to suck it up or something because she’s the only one among the handful of us who has the brains to help us keep the idiots who you’re so scared of from hunting us down and hurting us, or even worse, killing us.” Mic looked up at Desire. The heat on her cheeks rose from her anger throughout the whole ordeal. It wasn’t yelling, nor was it scolding.

“I can understand why you’re so scared, I really do. It’s just so taxing having to watch you stunt our progress, which in turn stunts your own.” She leaned forward and hugged Desire as tight as she could as she felt tears in her eyes.

Truth be told, seeing 3GS look outside reminded her so much of how Taco would look up to the night sky, claiming that Mic was the moon to her sun-like attitude. Mic never really understood the specifics of what that meant besides her explaining Mic’s progress of rationality over the years, and that’s a thought that stuck with her for so long. And she wanted to make sure Taco’s explanation always rang true.

“Please just fucking do this for us. Please just acknowledge you need to do this. Please.” Mic sobbed into Desire’s chest, who sighed before muttering something that made the world seem to sink away.

“Is that what you said to Taco?”

Her skin went cold, and her heart felt like it disappeared.

“She continued to work with Ego despite knowing the consequences, putting both you and her in harm’s way. How often did you have to beg her every morning that the two of you woke up next to each other, with her having a massive headache from the gun fights the night before?”

Stop.

“Did you still try to beg her to stop what she was doing when she’d come back, bloody and bruised from fist fights with criminals and crooks she was forced to work and deal with?”

There was supposed to be something good here.

“You’re trying to comfort me by trying to compare the two of us, right? Well it’s not working. In fact, I think I can take care of this,” Desire grunted as she shifted a stunned Mic off of her and shuffled to the door.

“What do you mean by that?” 3GS took a step forward, reaching out a hand to try to grab Desire’s wrist. Immediately Desire whipped herself away from its grasp.

She shrugged and twisted the front door’s knob, opening it with a forceful swing. “You guys want me to talk to her, I’ll fuckin’ talk to her!” She spun around dramatically, swooning as if she were a cartoon character. “Since I’m sooo much like the rest of you guys and the people in your past, I’ll just do it! It’ll all end up okay, because life isn’t real!”

The Mephone sighed and shook its head. “Desire—”

“No, it’s kind of too late for that now!” She ran a hand through her hair. “We’re all going to have a lovely chat together. My way!” She looked like she would erupt at any moment.

Mic couldn’t remember when she stood up, but she was following quietly behind 3GS as they all walked towards the laboratory entrance. She couldn’t even bring herself to speak, much less think proper thoughts at the moment.

The entrance of the lab whirred and clicked. Low rumbles emanated from the vending machine as the three of them made their way to it.

“Oh, and it seems like she’s coming out already!” Desire’s fists clenched. “Test Tube, I have something to say!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a tall figure was shot out of the vending machine, along with an animal. The animal hissed and ran towards 3GS’ ankles, almost hiding itself from the being that was brought out with it.

When Desire made eye contact with the woman, she immediately swung her fist, giving no room for Test Tube to answer even if she wanted to. She seemed to take the punch with a good face, as she merely stumbled without losing complete balance. She simply stood there, spitting a thick wad of spit and blood into the grass after being punched right in the jaw.

“Desire what the fuck?!” Microphone shot herself forward, grabbing her partner’s wrist and tugging her away from the scientist.

Not a word came from the woman.

“Well she’s not even talking!” Desire rolled her eyes. “And you guys wanted me to discuss with her, and this is how I discuss! I’m being my-fucking-self! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Mic looked back at 3GS, who was holding the cat closely to its chest, protecting it from the scene before the two of them. 3GS looked rather confused and worriedly glanced towards Test Tube.

Upon closer inspection, the scientist before them didn’t seem to be the same one that they made contact with months ago. Ignoring the fact she got clocked in the face, she was disheveled and greasy. Her hair was messy and the bags under her eyes only got darker with some slight frown lines by her mouth. She was skin and bones, almost shaking as she stood. Her eye seemed to glow with anger in the new glow of the moon, which just began to peek from behind the clouds.

From her pocket came a phone. On the back, a shiny logo of an orange with a bite taken out of it reflected in the lights of the vending machine.

“They know where you are,” Test Tube spoke slowly and hoarsely. The words were barely recognizable. “They’ve been tracking you this whole fucking time and you’ve pretended to be against him.”

She displayed the phone’s screen, showing a map pinging exactly where Desire stood. “And they know that we’re all here with you. Are you working with them?”

Desire stuttered, visibly taken back by the information shown to her. “I don’t know what the hell that means!” She began touching her chest and pockets as if trying to figure out if she had lost something of hers. “There’s no way Ego could be tracking me, I made sure to rip that shit out of me!”

Test Tube tossed the phone into the grass. Obviously it was worthless now, as it was without a shadow of a doubt technology that was developed and built by Meeple.

“Who’s tracking you?” Test Tube muttered. “Have you been recording? Been feeding information for them to better equip their newer models?”

Desire continuously shook her head no.

Mic put a hand on Desire’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Something’s not right about this. I feel weird.” She whispered, only wishing for Desire to take a step back.

She did not.

Test Tube lunged.

Microphone raised her hands up, watching Test Tube and Desire begin to scuffle on the ground. Both her and 3GS hollered out, yet only Mic could kneel down to try to pry Test Tube off of Desire.

Adrenaline between the three of them seemed tangible as Test Tube pushed Microphone off with near full strength, making her hit her head on the ground. Not too bad to knock her out wholly, but just enough to make her reconsider her choices that night. The pain surged from her skull down to her jaw, burning like a spreading fire in a disgustingly flammable building.

“I’ve had it up to here with you, you fucking fraud!” Test Tube screeched while beating Desire’s face into the ground.

3GS quickly laid the cat into Microphone’s arms, rushing to Desire’s aide and to possibly try to stop Test Tube. It did have some strength as it wrapped its arms around Test Tube’s own punching arm, but again; Humans can do so much damage with pure adrenaline and a personal grudge.

But then again, so can robots.

After shifting herself properly, Desire pushed 3GS off of Test Tube and swung once and for all, hitting Test Tube so forcefully at her neck that it breached through her skin, cracking through and stabbing through the jugular and seeming to sound the crack of a bone. Gurgles and pops spewed through the mass of skin and muscle, as well as the metal and wire of Desire’s hand and body below her.

The shock kept Microphone from screaming while Desire sharply snatched her fist out of Test Tube’s mangled muscles and 

Test Tube’s hands shook violently, reaching up to the injury and pressing her palms to it. Whether it was to try to stop the bleeding or to see what exactly happened, Mic would never know.

She stumbled back, toppling over to the grass.

Desire stood up, shaking her bloodied fist and splattering more blood onto the ground next to her. “Anyone can die at any time, prick.” Desire huffed, forcing a light ghost of steam out of her mouth. “And I won’t take this made up betrayal bullshit from a weak, pathetic scientist who continues to wallow and refuses to do anything about the predicament she’s in.”

She stepped on Test Tube’s rib cage, digging her heel a bit into it with anger practically making her simmer.

Microphone held the cat close in her arms, closing her eyes and wobbling while trying to not let the pain in her head overwhelm her. 3GS kneeled down to her, holding her steady by the shoulders.

But when Microphone looked up, she could barely see through the static. Only a sickening, gut-wrenching sound was heard.

Crunch.

Chapter Text

Squelching crimson and pink masses were pressed beneath Desire’s boots, beginning to be washed away from the pitter-patter of rain.

Both Microphone and 3GS were still, staring in horror at Test Tube’s body, its head dangling and almost fully detached from the inhuman force that the android squeezed into the neck of her victim. Microphone’s hands squeezed the kitten between her fingers in a protective haze, hoping to keep its gaze away from the sight before them, all while keeping her own focus on her partner.

“You…” Microphone heaved, shaking her head and leaning forward as if she were about to spew chunks, “...you killed her.”

“Test Tube is dead.” 3GS muttered. It looked down at Microphone, then looked off to the road, where the sound of a car driving on the gravel grew ever so slightly louder by the second. Though to Microphone, it felt like eons. “And by the looks of it we might be in trouble,” 3GS gripped Mic’s shoulder, attempting to stabilize her from subconsciously rocking back and forth. “We have company.”

Desire shook her head, waving her hair out of her face and letting out a grunt followed by a sigh. Her face was decorated in flecks of blood, dotting her cheeks like her very own freckles. “And I’ll deal with the cops too,” she pursed her lips then spat into the grass, one of her faux teeth flying out and hitting the dirt.

Though the ones in the car were possibly anything but.

The vehicle skidded to a halt, one half on the road and the other half in the driveway. Out of the side came a man with silver hair, wheeling out a woman in a periwinkle outfit. Both of them seemed to have their hands glued over their mouths in shock at the unsightly scene before them.

“Is that?!” The woman shrieked, pushing herself towards the scene, past the stunned silver-haired man and past the almost paralyzed Microphone. “Oh my god… OH MY GOD!” She began to scream out, looking down to the body, torn between motioning towards it and covering her face.

Desire took a few steps back, looking away from the commotion as soon as the man began to step up to the screaming woman. He reached for her hand, making sure to avoid looking at the body himself, and began doing his best to comfort her.

Another car door opened and shut, and thick boots walked ever closer and closer to behind Microphone, who had apparently begun to cry despite the complete static that enveloped her entire body’s senses.

Arms wrapped around her eyes, an old game that Microphone’s past lover would play with her when she’d come home from work early.

“Guess who?” Another woman, this time with an all too familiar British accent.

Microphone could feel her jaw tighten. The cat in her hands hissed in the presence of the new people, which was to be expected. Though, she herself couldn’t bring the strength to speak. With all the fighting, screaming and blood, there just wasn’t any possible way for Mic to have enough strength to let her voice out, even as just a soft whisper.

The woman’s hands snaked from Microphone’s eyes to her waist, bringing her into a tight and secure hug. As well as allowing Microphone to finally, fully faint from the exhaustion of the events transpiring around her.

Microphone laid on the couch, eyes closed with a cat curled up like a ball of yarn on her stomach.

“Our whole idea was that Test Tube would be able to help us at least make some modifications to Taco to help with getting rid of Ego,” Silver Spoon let out a sigh, resting his head on the wooden table top in front of him. He, along with Cabby, Taco, 3GS and Desire all sat at the dining table. Tension hung between them all, as if it were a thick canopy of smoke polluting a city’s air, attempting to cloud the obvious anger, grief and any other slew of hostilities for each other that they might have held at that very moment.

“Well then that idea might as well be out of the question dear,” Taco’s eyes would not leave Microphone’s shape on the couch. “I need to stay with her and make sure that she’s okay. She is my one and only after all.”

Desire raised an eyebrow. She was never one for the icky romance that humans felt between one another. Repulsed, almost. But there was a little jealousy brewing in her, knowing that Taco never freaked Microphone out with her brute strength like Desire had just moments ago.

“No.” 3GS folded its arms. “Knowing what I do now, you need to stay with Silver Spoon and Cabby to get into Meeple. If anything, I should be the one to stay with her.”

“Perhaps you actually think that I don’t have what it takes to defend my own wife?” Taco raised an eyebrow, leaning in to inspect 3GS closer. “What ever could be your reasoning?”

Reluctantly, Desire kicked her foot on the floor and cleared her throat. “It thinks both you and I should go with Cabby and Silver Spoon to the main headquarters. 3GS has never been to that building before and wouldn’t be of any use,” she laid her head on her hand, propping it up. “...obviously.”

Taco’s eyes darted between them all, yet focusing intently on Desire. She sat right next to Cabby, who’d been radio silent for the past few minutes.

“It’s quite hilarious that you think you can boss us all around, especially after you just killed the woman who could have prevented this debacle from happening.” Taco seethed, now twirling a butterfly knife that seemingly came out of thin air. On her hands, and her fingers, seemed to be little knicks and small cuts in her synthetic skin. Then after some beats, after some knife loops around her hand, she sighed and stabbed it into the table. “But you unfortunately have a point.”

Suddenly Cabby shifted, moving herself away from the table. “Sorry, I need to leave. I’ll wait in the car; I can’t just sit here while we gloss over the fact that…” Her lips quivered as she glanced at Desire.

“... I just need to update a few files.” Her voice was low as she exited the room and out of the front door, audibly sobbing as soon as the door shut.

Silver Spoon stood up, avoiding eye contact with Desire and Taco (he liked to call himself an empath and says that he can easily ‘sense’ tension,) and shaking 3GS’ hand. “Thank you, good friend. Staying with dear Microphone will be quite the task. You needn’t worry about us while we’re out, okay?”

3GS tilted its head, smiling questionably. “Uh… It was just the logical thing to do. No need to thank me. Plus, she and I have become quite the besties.” It looked towards the front door, then back to Silver Spoon. “Will you help me with something outside?” It said, guiding his new acquaintance out.

“Why of course!” Silver Spoon chuckled, patting 3GS’ back as they went outside.

Desire and Taco were left at the dining table, sitting across from each other. Staring daggers at each other. Taco twirling her knife between her fingers, and Desire tapping her fingers on the wood where her hands rested. Each of them were trying to get some sort of a read on the other, yet it wasn’t truly working out for either of them.

“Well,” Desire shook her head, “while I don’t want to go, I want to be the one to rip Ego’s head off of his shoulders.”

“Yeah?” Taco smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You and I both, I suppose.”

Silence cut between the two of them once more.

Desire stood up, pushing her chair away from her. “I think you’ll find it’ll be me who deals with him.”

She turned, just as sharp as the twirling knife in Taco’s hands, and made her exit.

And in that moment something shifted within Taco. She felt in the moment, seeing Microphone’s sleeping figure on the couch. She so badly wanted to kiss her and hold her, to hug her and let her know that she would take great care of herself and not let herself die once again and worry her.

“After all this shit is over, I’m taking a long fucking holiday,” Taco said as she stopped her knife and placed it back into her pocket. “I would take Test Tube but…” her eyes wandered to the orange wallpaper on the hotel’s walls. A chuckle escaped her throat. “...shit happens, I suppose.”

Chapter Text

Ego’s slender fingers ran across the mangled artificial skin on the long conference table. It was pale, collected from a church from the remains of what was once Edacity’s robotic vessel. A coworker whom Ego found himself to grow comfortable with was now torn to bits and damaged beyond repair. Gears and bits of metal were collected as well, laid about near the unrecognizable mass on the mahogany surface usually used for business meetings.

The CEO’s typical smile stood still as he began tapping his fingertips along the table, his eyes darting and gazing upon each and every broken piston and metallic bone that showed itself before him, almost as if they had as much pride as him. He never found himself to be a fixer-upper like the man he was based upon, though he found himself at a standstill with his own mind.

So much so that he barely noticed when one of his underling workers opened the door to hand him some files. The man, sporting a small tag on his breast that displayed the name ‘Big Orange Spoon,’ softly shut the door behind him as he stood there, holding the manila folder of files in front of his face yet showing his worried eyes.

The man, however, was a newer hire. He had no idea of the goings on behind closed doors in Meeple. Ego had no clue what the guy was like, nor if he would snitch to the authorities.

“What’re those?” Ego muttered, eyeing the thick stack of papers in Orange Spoon’s hands.

“S-Sales reports…” Orange Spoon bounced them lightly in his hands, definitely nervous of talking to the big boss of the company one-on-one. “And then some other sections that I’ve labeled are composed of both complaints from employees and customers. I thought it would be useful due to our sales plummeting and—”

The papers found their way into Ego’s hands, being flipped through at almost lightning speed.

“You want me to put them in the trash again, don’t you?” The assistant’s voice was always trembling around Ego.

“Are you aware that I was built to replace someone who was kind and considerate, and always sacrificing his own needs to his peers, Orange Spoon?” Ego sat the files down on the tabletop without any regard for keeping them orderly. “Someone who would kneel on a whim to help those in need?”

Ego’s tall body shadowed Orange Spoon miraculously, as the assistant found himself almost shrinking in fear at the sight before him.

“Obviously it never worked considering the fact that he’s been deceased for years now, hm?” Ego’s breath reeked of whiskey. Much to everyone’s dismay, no matter how much he drank he just never seemed to get drunk enough to pass out and leave his own employees alone. “I work all day and night to keep this company afloat and you continue to give me complaints, all while we’re trying to construct our biggest project yet?”

Ego leaned back, falling into his chair and allowing Orange Spoon to let out a long, trembling sigh of relief.

Throwing one of the drawers open, Ego stuck his hand in and brought out a small sandwich baggie of what seemed to be…

“I-I never took you for a smoker, sir,” Orange Spoon stuttered, staring at the cannabis in the bag.

“Oh it’s not really for me,” Ego hummed to himself, spinning around in his chair gleefully as he fiddled with Edacity’s body on the table behind him. “It’s for a dear old friend of mine.” His hand plunged into the mass of metal, dumping the musky contents into the machinery which resulted in soft whirrs and beeps. “A friend who’s going to help us draft a new product.”

Ego stepped back, allowing the body to sit upright.

“A friend who’s been trapped within the confines of Edacity’s mind only to be released when in need of protecting himself! Only a visionary could come out of being trapped within darkness for so long, agreed?” Ego let his body rest in his chair, side-eyeing the assistant standing next to him with a bewildered expression on his face.

And before said assistant could speak, the body began to twitch, becoming reanimated and clicking. His eyes opened slowly, and began to blink both with lights and with its eyelids as if it were calibrating itself with the gift of robotic life. And thus it spoke, its first words coming back into the mortal realm:

“Dude, Ego my man, I had a banger fucking idea for a product including breakfast cereal while dormant.”

Chapter Text

Alas, Test Tube’s body ended up being hauled in the back of the vehicle that the group first arrived in, and Microphone ended up coming with them in fear of Taco and Desire possibly having a shitfest type of argument while away. It wasn’t really what they agreed upon, but Microphone’s pleas were far too much for Desire or Taco to refuse. Air hung between the beings in the crowded vehicle, pressing them ever closer despite their attempts to lean further and further away from each other. Taco at the wheel, forcing Silver Spoon to stay back at the dilapidated hotel with 3GS and the cat. There was no way that Cabby was going to let that Spoon drive knowing how many vehicle accidents he’s been in.

A three hour drive of silence, static humming from a broken car radio and the occasional ahem of a clearing throat was probably enough to drive anyone crazy.

Microphone found herself in the passenger seat, catching irritated yet somber glances in the rearview mirror at Taco in the backseat, who had been fiddling and picking at her pants. An odd behavior, as Taco was usually quite refined and kept her movements (or any display of discomfort for that matter) to a minimum. She was so close yet so far, the same woman she knew yet different. Mic would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit pissed.

Taco knew she was angry at her. Who wouldn’t be if Taco had to pull the same shit she did on that damned, forgettable reality show again— This time to save other’s lives. Anyone would be pissed in that regard, understandably. Though now wasn’t really the time to flounder about all of the personal drama.

Thankfully Cabby had plentiful information to help with the predicament at hand. According to Cabby, there is a scientist who knows all about their situation that Test Tube herself had created for this particular reason. Even if Test Tube would barely remember the past few weeks, they would need her as a bargaining chip for Ego to even slightly consider backing off of trying to kill the group.

And Desire’s eyes only focused on the road, not even wanting to know if Microphone was looking at her old partner in the back of the car— She didn’t approve of any of this at all. She wanted to fly solo in the first place. All these changes to their ‘plans’ had her on the verge of flipping her lid. It didn’t make any sense how humans worked, able to just switch what they think or feel on a whim, and able to come to a general consensus even when the outcomes had a negligible percentage of coming out successful.

She just wanted to forget the hotel where she used to live and move on with Mic. After ripping Ego to shreds, she would have to see about visiting a beach. Or possibly attending a concert of one of Mic’s beloved bands. It was how people relaxed, and she would do anything to help her forget about the predicament they were in.

“This should be the area,” Cabby pointed forward towards a dirt road, “down there, through this road. There’s an old house.”

Desire scoffed. “And how do you know?”

Cabby raised an eyebrow. “You can’t really avoid prying eyes nowadays.”

Down the untamed dirt road with stray weeds and grass growing over it, was a thick forest. The sights of cities miles away were shadowed by the greenery of hefty vegetation and a new, fresh air between the lot of them. It looked like it took someone an entire lifetime to restore the area to the state it’d been in. Untouched by human hands, perfectly dirtied by the paws of nature. Then, in a well gardened clearing, was a little house. Dark green, almost blending into the deep verdant backdrop behind it.

“Not what I was expecting,” Taco scoffed. “I was expecting a laboratory of sorts. One that a mad scientist may use to do their mad experiments on, huh?” She nudged an unamused Cabby.

“Paragon has specialized in human biology since her very first sight of ‘sentience,’” Cabby shifted in her seat, adjusting to become more comfortable with the ever-leaning-closer Taco beginning to invade her personal space, obviously curious at just how much information she’d manage to smuggle. “We’ve had to keep tabs on her for a long long time, especially with the Shimmers becoming involved.”

Taco leaned back, placing a hand on her forehead. “Right. I forgot about those little chaps.”

“Who cares,” Desire muttered, speeding up over a small bump in the road and sending Taco to wobble and jostle exaggeratedly. “They’re living and very powerful sources of energy. We can have Paragon do whatever the hell she needs to do with Test Tube’s body like we agreed on, and in turn she can give us information needed about them so we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“Thanks for reiterating the things we already know!” Taco scoffed. “For a sack of bolts you sure seem to harbor some sour grudges.”

“I can crash this car right now and you, specifically, will not survive the impact.”

Microphone placed her hand on Desire’s shoulder, squeezing with all her might. “Let’s please not threaten to kill each other as we’re approaching the house of someone who is supposed to be helping us. If she thinks we’re there to hurt her or her work then we’ll be getting nowhere, okay?”

The car slowed, shuffling along the dirt road and halting to a park. Desire gripped the steering wheel for a few seconds, gathering herself. Once she looked towards the gloved hand that held her shoulder steady, she took a breath deep into the expanding membranes in her chest cavity. “Makes sense, dear.”

Microphone gave a slight pat and smile as an immediate response, then swiftly shifted out of the car to help Cabby get out of the car as well.

After hopping out of her side of the vehicle, Taco slithered to the trunk and popped the hood open, revealing a rather stiff board of a body in the back. She was barely recognizable, yet luckily the brain could still be intact. It was obvious from the damage that she had bled out in mere minutes, but with the amount of sci-fi fuckery that’s happened the past few years, it wouldn’t take a miracle to bring the sad sack scientist back to the waking hell called Earth.

“Get it out of the fucking trunk, henchwoman.”

Taco’s eyes darted to the dirty blonde figure who had her arms crossed.

“Perhaps you should ask again and nicely this time!” Taco smiled knowingly. “Use this time to practice your manners before Test Tube comes back and gives you a good beating for killing her. Wouldn’t that be smart? What do you think?”

Desire’s lip visibly twitched. Then, a flattering smile. One to obviously mock her adversary. Though, it was amusing to Taco to see her in an embarrassing position like this.

“Of course,” Desire inched closer, grabbing the body before Taco could lay a hand on it. “How could I forget that you’re so weak that you resort to mind games rather than physically stopping others from hurting you? Very smart. I  admire that!” Her stage play smile dropped to a glare that could cut steel. “Very fucking admirable, braniac. It has a one hundred percent chance of succeeding, doesn’t it?”

Desire steadied her body and tossed the corpse over her shoulder without a problem and trailed behind Mic and Cabby, who were already on their merry way down the winding dirt path toward the house. Rolling her eyes and letting out a huff, Taco followed suit. She refused to give Desire the satisfaction of worming her way into her head with such drivel.

As Taco caught up to the group, it was evident that Mic and Cabby were already having a pleasant conversation— One to possibly lighten the mood, of course.

“It’s all so pretty,” Mic smiled, “I wish I had a green thumb like this!”

A mumble from Desire.

Cabby giggled nervously. “And knowing Paragon, she probably has a literal green thumb.”

In front of the house was a large garden of many plant species, and a moving shape that was tending to them. A familiar green haircut that was barely seen beneath a large straw hat, and a cropped shirt that exposed a metallic body beneath. It reflected in the sun that perfectly pricked and prodded its way through the trees and into the garden. There were many pots and other gardening tools that had been neatly organized to the side, where many gardeners would possibly throw them down without a care in the world when tending to another task.

As the group got closer, Cabby waved her arms. “Hey!” She shouted, waving her arms even more to try to gain the robot’s attention. “Hey, Paragon?”

For a few seconds Paragon’s body stopped completely, seemingly frozen in time. Then her head tilted and whirred, looking up to the group. She waved with a clawing motion, fingers in and out. A smile grew on her face. Then, her head tilted inquisitively as it dawned on her just what and who was tagging along with them.

“Ah. It appears you’ve brought Test Tube,” Paragon sat upright on her knees, looking up to the group. Then, without the support of her hands, she stood up with several whirrs and grinding from her knees. “Come inside. Please.” She bowed in both respect, and to gather the tools she left on the dirt ground in front of her garden.

The tools were placed in a little pocket in a belt that was tight around her waist, and she motioned for the girls to follow her in. “I do wish you took your time so that I could have finished my garden, but it makes plenty of sense that you’d wish to hurry this process up. You’re all in the nick of time, too. My body’s about to expire.”

Mic tilted her head. “You’re dying?”

“In a way, yes.” Paragon unbuckled the gardener’s belt and placed it on a small cabinet-shelf by the door. The walls were decorated in many diagrams of plants, animals and other living things. Many trinkets that she seemingly picked up if she thought it was shiny or unique enough.

“I was built first,” she continued, “a prototype in a way. Her plan was to implant her brain into me, or to use my systems to keep her sentient in case something had befallen her before she could complete… Well, the rest of us.” She looked at Desire, who had begun to refuse to make any sort of eye contact with anybody.

“I’m sorry.” Desire kept her focus on her feet. “I know we never talked much, but you know I never wanted this to happen.”

“You should save your words for when I don’t have to focus on fusing with…” Paragon leaned in, examining the damage to the neck that was done. “... I’m assuming the carnage was done by you?” She poked at it lightly. “You always said you’d cut her head off and keep it as a trophy.”

Taco cringed.

Before Desire could continue, Paragon waved to her. “Desire, follow me downstairs. The rest of you can stay up here. It was nice to see you again, Cabby. And it was nice meeting you, Microphone and Taco.”

Cabby only nodded, and Taco and Mic waved in turn.

“It was nice seeing you again too, Paragon.” Cabby smiled. “Thank you.”

The stairs, while creaky, were also decorated in many little plants and pictures. Shelves upon shelves, it was like the biologist had been stockpiling them up to suddenly pawn off for the big bucks.

But Desire knew she wouldn’t do that.

“They were all made in a factory. Bottle caps, buttons and tickets and cards. Made en masse. Isn’t that sad, Des?” Paragon opened a door to a big wide room with two tables that sat with absolutely nothing on display. Enough room for one person to lay on one each.

“A bit,” Desire felt red at the nickname. “Remember, don't call me that.”

Paragon let out a chuckle. “I forgot that you don’t let people get close to you. You still go against the programming in you.” She began to bring out many devices that seemed to phase into reality from nowhere. Desire was never a tech kind of girl.

“Is that a bad thing?” The blonde laid the body onto an empty table, straightening her limbs into cuffs and buckles to keep them restrained.

Another chuckle from Paragon chirped through the basement. “Not at all. In fact, I’m quite jealous of that. In a way, you are growing to have more humanity than I am.”

“I don’t see it that way. You’re more of a human than I am for even giving up your sentience to allow such a scum of a person to live,” Desire sighed. “You’re everything that the rest of us cyborgs couldn’t be. You’re way more human.”

There was a silence for a bit, and Paragon laid her devices onto a cluttered table that had piles of papers and files organized in neat rows and arrays. “If I was human, I would cherish the life I had. I would feel anger and fear. I would have feelings other than the happiness and content that I was programmed to feel under any sort of pressure.

“You forget that I was programmed to be the perfect image of her, just like you. And while we were both, all seven of us, made for the same purpose of being a replacement for people, you six have come into your own. Whether it has been for good or for…” She trailed off. “Well we know some of us have done horrible things. But do humans not do horrible things sometimes?”

Desire shrugged. “Some things are unforgivable.”

“Of course,” Paragon nodded. “But the conscious decision and ability to understand that your actions are yours and yours alone and to stick with others despite knowing you’d be better off alone—”

“Please don’t say the power of friendship is what’s making me more human-like because I will barf.” Desire chuckled. She barely even noticed Paragon had already hooked up wires to Test Tube’s body and had cauterized and bandaged the wounds of her neck.

Paragon shook her head. “Well, no, but I was going to say that the fact that you’re crying right now is possibly a sign.”

A tear ran down Desire’s cheek and fell onto her shirt. “That or I’m leaking, hm?”

“Sacrifices are necessary, dear.” Paragon stepped forward, bringing Desire into a big hug. “I know that you push people away, but will you promise me that you will think of others when the time arises?”

“I—”

“Promise me, Des. Promise me that you’ll stop pushing people away and let people in to keep everyone alive. And to stop that rotten Ego from trying to kill more and more beings. This world is too beautiful to let such a demon rip the life away from it,” Paragon squeezed her.

The hug felt tighter than usual, and Paragon’s body twitched and whirred more than Desire had been used to. Ever.

“Would I be an asshole if I said that you’re really hurting my feelings by doing this right now?” Desire hiccuped and held Paragon tighter. “Talk about a therapy hug…”

“The machine is ready, Des.” Paragon let go of the hug and marched to the table, her joints creaking like a poorly-oiled tin-woman. She pushed herself onto the table and connected a few wires weakly to herself, which Desire had to help her tighten.

The tables were close enough for Paragon to hold onto Test Tube’s hand softly, wrapping her fingers around her creator’s.

“The machine will use the rest of my lifepower to give her brain a powerful enough shock for her body to possibly start living again. It’s my absolute honor to also offer the chip in my skull to give her the knowledge of Meeple that she needs.” Paragon smiled. “I don’t know much, but I hope it will suffice in aiding you all in stopping that bastard in the boss chair.”

Desire nodded. “It will, Paragon.”

“Just enter the password in the command module and press enter when you’re ready, Des.” Paragon’s voice was rather calming and comforting. Desire was surprised that she herself wasn’t on the verge of an angry breakdown over it, obsessing over a way to offer Test Tube’s life instead. What use was a mortal scientist if they could have a better, practically invincible version of her?

But it made sense in the end. Paragon was too weak, physically.

Desire, in an oddly serene state of mind, inched her way to the computer and began typing in the password. It was a string of letters and numbers, definitely to secure it from any intruders who weren’t allowed.

“Remember how Edacity would always ask our thoughts on heaven when we lived in Test Tube’s home?” Paragon muttered. “I wonder if I’ll get to see it. Or, perhaps another afterlife for us robots in particular? I have so many questions. Such as: I wonder how many seconds it will take to go there. What do you hypothesize?”

Desire shook her head, pushing away the bad thoughts. “Well, we’ll have to see then.”

“Would you like to count with me? I think it will take about four seconds judging by the power I’ve drilled into the transfer machine.”

The blonde’s finger hovered over the enter key, trembling beyond her control. “Yes. Let’s count together, Parie.”

Desire pressed her finger against the key.

Together, Desire’s soft voice coalesced with Paragon’s hums.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

Four.

Exactly four seconds had passed before Paragon’s glowing eyes dulled to shadows, her already soft grip on Test Tube’s hand loosening and falling to the side of the table as electric currents zapped through the makeshift myelin sheaths to push the rest of the sentience Paragon had to the woman that lay next to her.

Desire fell to the ground as the currents sparked and snapped, jolting Test Tube’s body against the restraints.

She just wanted four seconds to rest.

Chapter Text

Twiddling thumbs. The quiet, rough ahems from clearing throats. Ticking from a mahogany grandfather clock that stood tall in another room.

Thirty minutes had passed since Desire followed Paragon down into the study. Thirty minutes since the last word had been spoken between Taco, Microphone and Cabby. The three of them sat mere feet apart in the chairs in the living room.

Microphone exchanged a few glances with Taco, eyeing the signature butterfly knife that the woman twirled in her scarred hands. Her carefully painted black nail polish had slightly chipped away over the past few days. Perhaps that was all she was throughout her life: a spectator. Someone who always wanted to take action, but never found the confidence to do so. Loud emotions and a loud voice, but was always stepping up to the plate at the last minute. Always when someone pushed her to her sanity’s edge.

Taco’s voice was firm and cold, slicing through the silence mercilessly. “Should we talk to them? It’s been a concerning amount of time now.” Talk about anything. Anything besides the past.

The periwinkle haired girl tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, giving up on constantly tying and readjusting her hair bun. Cabby did her best to try to engage with the two of them nonverbally, such as tapping their shoulders or forearms and pointing at a really cool picture with a smile, but to no avail. “I’ll go check on them. It’s soundproofed down there, I’m pretty sure.” Cabby wheeled herself to the staircase, examining the makeshift wheelchair lift.

Both Microphone and Taco brought themselves to their feet quickly, standing straight and watching her.

“Are you sure?!” Microphone took a step forward. “I can go down there. Desire’s closer to me!”

“You don’t have to do that, Cabby,” Taco averted her eyes, staring at the now stagnant blade in her hand that glimmered in the soft light in the living room, reflecting towards the black clothes that Microphone wore.

Though Cabby only waved at the two of them, shrugging them away as her chair was slowly lowered down the stairs. Alone, Taco and Microphone stood. Microphone with her arms limp, and Taco with her fingers loosely dangling the knife with a slight swing.

“Closer to you, huh?” Taco scoffed.

Microphone turned in time to see Taco throw herself back onto the soft, green couch. “What,” Taco continued stimming with her beloved knife, “did you two fall in love as well?”

“I was under the impression that you died,” Microphone muttered, hiding her hands in her pockets. “Not to mention you seem close to Cabby as well.”

Taco let out an amused chuckle, sighing and gripping the handle of the knife. Pointing the blade towards Microphone’s direction, she smiled. “Cabby was all I had when I was practically held captive working for that generic brand version of Cobs. Do you really think I had any other choice?”

“Manipulating the poor woman?” Microphone gasped, making a show out of it. “How surprising coming from the conwoman, huh?”

For a beat, Taco hesitated; She was completely unsure of what Microphone was exactly referring to. Sure, she’d been manipulative and working behind the scenes on that damned reality show, but…

“Oh. You can’t possibly mean—”

Microphone stepped closer to the woman on the couch with an unwavering glare. “You told me you would come back and you never did. You lied to me. The only way I found out you were alive was because of Des!” She pushed the blade in Taco’s hand down with a finger lightly. “You abandoned me.”

“No, I did not.” Taco shook her head. “You’re unwilling to listen to my reasoning and that, quite frankly, isn’t my problem.”

Microphone rolled her eyes. “Well maybe we’re both the problem. You won’t listen to my side of the story either. I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall.”

With that, Taco gripped the knife and stood up quickly, pointing it at Microphone once more. To that of which Mic refused to flinch. The two shared a long battle of staring, barely blinking yet full of a weird and familiar flickering fire of anger between the two of them. Misunderstood rage that burned in their chests that grew to acidic bile in their throats whenever they couldn’t figure out just the right words. Stepping on the glass around each other, like a merciless tango that left the heels of their feet calloused and bloody with each interaction and one-sided confrontation. Miscommunication hell.

Taco had bitten multiple things in her life at Meeple: Untested chemicals. Cloths for when she was wounded and had to sanitize and sew the gashes in her body all by lonesome. One time, she even bit a MePhone’s finger when it tried to hold her captive for the very first time.

But this was the first time she had bitten a bullet.

“I didn’t want to leave.” Taco inched her face closer to the taller woman in front of her. “Keeping in mind the pros and cons of it, the pros outweighed any cons. Upsetting you and keeping you safe, or keeping you happy and risking your death. I made money, I was able to gain insider information to top secret data and also understand just what makes these… Whatever the fuck kind of robots that Ego’s planning to have take control over us tick.

“I have the knowledge of a whole lot of things— Most things that somehow I can’t even comprehend and things I don’t have the whole context for. But what I do know is that you aren’t this stupid.”

Microphone snatched Taco’s wrist, holding it firmly and keeping the butterfly knife a dangerous distance from her face. The place where Taco had pointed it in the first place. With a seething anger in her throat, Microphone groaned out as many words as she could.

“I understand you trusted your logic, but I think your logic burnt the bridge we worked so hard to build together.” She pushed Taco’s wrist to the side, tossing the weapon to the floor with a clatter. “It’ll take a lot of trust and bonding to bring it back.”

Taco looked down, then back to Microphone and smirked. “You’re still wearing the engagement ring I got you, though.” To which Microphone shoved her hands back in her pockets.

“Don’t act so coy all of a sudden,” Taco smirked. “You’re quite—”

Her words had been cut short, furrowing her brows and looking behind Microphone towards the front door.

Microphone laughed nervously. “Taco?”

“Hush.” Taco raised a hand, pointing towards the door and lowering her voice. “Someone’s car just pulled up outside. I heard tires.” Taco slowly crouched to the ground, grabbing the knife that fell to the ground and holding it tightly outwards, pointing it to the door.

“Careful,” Taco whispered, pointing to a desk. “Hide under there. I got this.”

Mic scowled yet acquiesced, slowly sinking behind a computer desk that had many textbooks and journals stacked on it next to a closed laptop. Taco glanced at the doorway to the stairs, steeling herself before looking back to the front door. She flicked the lights off and stabilized her footing, fighting back the urge to twirl and toss the knife around out of nervous habit. She was an immovable object.

The silence lasted for what seemed like years. There was soft humming from the air conditioning in the house, and the light vibration of electricity in the walls. It always bothered Taco when things were too quiet. She learned how to truly listen for the slightest of sounds, all thanks to Microphone.

Microphone…

She wouldn’t let anything awful happen to Mic. They’d have to kill her before they got to Mic.

Taco squared her shoulders instantly as the door swung open, revealing a tall silhouette, carrying something that looked like a boombox of some sort. They had long hair, flowing down to their hips. They also seemed to wear such dimming sunglasses that they didn’t notice Taco standing in the dark of the living room for a few seconds.

“Oh Paragon!” The woman called out, searching the wall for the lightswitch after shutting the front door. “I found a boombox at that garage sale! You know I’ve always wanted to listen to my vintage Spices Girls album on a perfect, old fashioned stereo—” As the light flicked on, the woman in the doorway saw Taco standing in the middle of the room, and Taco could now tell what the person was wearing herself.

Her hair was white with the lightest pink at the tips, and her outfit had an odd yet fitting mish-mash of Y2K pink aesthetics with white, modern accenting jewelry. The sunglasses were a dastardly shade of pink with so much glitter that it was a miracle none of it had been shedding off. On her head lay an unmatching hat; it was grey and seemed vintage and old as if she were holding onto it way past its expiration date. On her shoulder was a bright pink, fluffy bag with the word Cupidity finely embroidered on it.

“YOU.” The woman pointed to Taco, angrily setting the boombox down on a nearby pony wall. “Why are you here?!”

Taco didn’t recognize this person at all. “I do believe that is classified information. Who are you —”

The woman immediately lunged at her, knocking the boombox onto the floor and conveniently hitting the floor in a way to where it began playing an upbeat, poppy tune at maximum volume.

“My name is Cupidity!” She screeched, grabbing Taco by her hair and pushing her to the floor. “You’re trespassing in my friend’s fucking house!”

The knife flew out of her hands once again, hitting the floor and sliding to the other end of the room by the work desk covered in books. She grabbed the shag rug tightly and slowly pushed herself up. “Trust me lady, you don’t want to fight me.”

Cupidity’s green eyes seemed to grow more neon with each second she was left to stew in her rage. “I know all about your shit, Taco! I don’t want your Meeple bullshit here!” Her hands twitched as she took off her jacket, throwing it to the floor. “I’m done penting up with my fear!”

Taco stuttered, raising a hand. “Wait please just listen to me—”

Cupidity threw herself onto Taco again, this time with Taco resisting and pushing the robot with all her might.

Her nails were long, sharp and pink. They looked to be acrylic, but Taco knew better than to even believe for a second that they were fake nails. They were built specifically with self-defense in mind, so they were securely attached to her fingers and practically indestructible. Basically, they were robotic claws capable of shredding and maiming anyone who pissed her off.

“C-Cupid!” Taco sputtered out, gripping Cupidity’s wrist. She finally kneed the attacker in the stomach, then tossing her to the side as she groaned in pain.

Taco could barely think. Her head was pounding from the impact of hitting the ground (as well as the blaring music in the background), and she couldn’t even fathom how quickly Cupidity got back to her feet. There was a slightly concerning amount of blood coming from Taco’s nose, but that would have to be a worry for ‘Future Taco.’ For now, she had to fight and make sure Cupidity listened to reason. And perhaps Taco did hear about her before. Unfortunately every little bit of information she knew was from Ego and Meeple files, so for all she knew it could have just been some sort of smear campaign or propaganda to keep her scared of anyone who tried to defect from Meeple.

The robot hobbled up and forward at an incredible speed for someone that's been injured mere seconds before. She lifted Taco’s collar with one hand, piercing the fabric with her pink claws and raising her into the air with inhuman strength. She maneuvered her hands around Taco’s throat, squeezing yet allowing a minimal amount of airflow for her to at least struggle to fully breathe.

“I should pluck your pretty eyeballs out,” Cupidity glared at her prey, whose face was turning red. “I haven’t done that. I’d like to be able to share how it feels with other people. Brag about it, maybe.

“Were you planning on robbing us? Taking shit that doesn’t belong to you, huh?” She tilted her head, smiling in amusement over how Taco’s squirming grew lesser and lesser by the second. “You can’t fool me. I know you’re listening, Ego.”

“STOP!” A loud ringing voice came from the back of the room where the staircase was.

Cupid turned her head, looking at the folk that were in the doorway and watching the scene. Microphone was closest, pointing Taco’s knife in her face close to her eyes. Cabby was there too, right next to Paragon, who looked suspiciously more human. As well as Desire, whose face and eyes were flushed red from crying.

The robot scoffed and slammed Taco down to the floor, summoning a large gasp from her as she rolled and writhed on the floor, coughing and spitting out flecks of blood all over the floor and carpet. The bridge of the song from the stereo continued blaring throughout the room, ringing out against the walls and providing little to no comfort between the group.

Chapter Text

Cupidity and Desire exchanged swings, blocking each other’s punches or taking the hit to the jaw like a champ and shaking the pain off of their face quickly after. No blood, no sweat, no oil. Just the sounds of thick punches, grunts and chuckles. Heels of their shoes digging into the dirt as they sparred for what seemed like hours. Desire thought it was quite funny seeing Cupid’s hair up in a sloppy ponytail for the first time in years.

The others had been strategizing on just what to do now with Paragon— Or was it Test Tube? Neither Cupid nor Desire knew, and neither did the rest of the group. She definitely did look similar, with the only change being that her injuries seemed to heal and her working eye seemed to glow unnaturally yellow. A bit eerie, yet it wasn’t really their place to talk shit about how creepy something looked with all of the other haunts that were happening every day.

“So, Desire,” Cupid grunted between swings, attempting to punch Desire’s cheek, “word on the street is that you’re trying to get back to Meeple—” Her question was cut short by Desire snatching Cupid’s wrist before she could make an impact, then she was pushed away as Desire attempted to swing back; Only for Cupid to catch her fist as if the surprise, physical retort. Cupid used all her might in her one hand, holding onto Desire’s hand as if it were nothing. “And just what are you planning to do?”

Desire avoided eye contact, staring at how Cupid didn’t even have to widen her stance. “What do you mean?”

“Well, while I do admittedly think you’re strong,” Cupid twisted Desire’s hand in a nanosecond, forcing it to emit a loud crack into the woods around them. “I love the idea of sticking it to the man, but you couldn’t even handle working for him. You’re strong but not strong enough. You weren’t built for physical altercation like the rest of us.”

Desire’s right hand fell limp, dangling off of the mechanical joints inside of her wrist. Phantom pain. It made her feel sick to her fake stomach, but she pressed on.

“Well you should see me when I’m with Mic. Caprice is pretty strong,” Desire wheezed out while ducking and avoiding another surprise punch from Cupidity, “we have a hand cannon and everything.”

Cupid retracted her fist and stood up straight, breathing fractionally harder than usual. There were scuffs on her bandage-wrapped claws, from the dirt and scuffling. She usually preferred to clean up after a fight, but Desire didn’t find it odd that Cupid wanted to relish in the fact that she was able to fight. She did love to brag about the things she could accomplish, after all. The things she owned, the things she had and has.

“That’s your issue right there.” Cupid examined her nails, checking to make sure that any dirt didn’t find its way beneath them. “You rely on other people’s opinions of you too much.”

Simply untrue. Desire never cared for what others thought. Ever. Desire widened her stance, readying her one good hand. Oh, and her other hand that just got done mostly healing after a good few minutes of letting it regenerate.

Desire almost chuckled. “That’s real rich coming from you of all people, Cupid,” she spat a weird, green infused viscous spit onto the ground. “You want to achieve such great things, but not to even do anything with said things. You just want a prize to show off.”

Cupid loosened a bit, pushing a smirk aside. “You’re not wrong, I’ll give you that.” In the blink of an eye, she dashed behind Desire.

“But it’s not really about me anymore.” Cupid raised her elbow, aiming with sniper-like precision. “You know we can be more than we were built to represent now, right?” She pushed with full force, hitting Desire in the back of the head and forcing her to tumble into the ground. “You don’t have to be a leader. Don’t be stupid.”

The blonde felt her face go numb from sliding in the grass, dirt, and various small pebbles along the ground.

“The most you can do for us is just keep out of the way while we deal with him,” Cupid began unwrapping her hands and arms, eyeing the pitiful robot on the earth below her heels. “I’m not the one who freezes up when I even think of him. You’re not cut out for it, babe.”

As Cupid threw the bandages onto the ground, she began to make her way back to the house.

Desire sat up, spitting out more of the green fluid before shaking her head and placing her hands on her head to try to steady her thoughts. She couldn’t help but dwell on the past. “But… Nostalgia?”

Cupid turned back towards Desire and crossed her arms. “Honey, Nostalgia made you feel powerful because of the spite I run off of. We’re unstable when we form Nostalgia,” She rolled her eyes. “That’s why I highly doubt you’re as strong as you think. Memories of the past can make us see things with rose-tinted glasses and it becomes one hell of a drug, honey.” Cupid grabbed the knob to the front door, turning it slowly. “I suggest, before daydreaming about beating the shit out of Ego, you get your emotional turmoil in order and push it down like the rest of us and stop letting your anger make impulsive decisions. You already killed Test Tube and Paragon because of it.”

With that, Cupid entered the house, practically slamming the door.

Desire was still, stewing in her own thoughts just as Cupid had warned her not to do.

“Peculiar,” Ego scratched his chin, “I didn’t expect you to come before the others. Why, if my memory serves me correctly, you hated me the most, no?” His smile was just as polished as the shiny, polished walls and the sun coming through the windows so clean that you’d think it was just an empty space.

Desire’s hair stood on the back of her neck, though she really had no other place to go. Escaping Test Tube’s lab wasn’t so easy, especially since Ego and the others had escaped, she upped the security for her Vengeance and Desire. They were hidden under lock and key— surveilled every waking day, hour, minute and second.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Desire.” Ego leaned back on his desk. He was standing, yet leaning enough on it to basically be sitting on it. He had a small rum glass full of god knows what, rotating it loosely whenever there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. “We both know I’m only an honest man.”

“Yeah right.” Desire spat. “You weren’t so honest about your little escape plan. That whole thing locked me and that newbie in the house for an extra few months.”

She looked at Ego’s shoes. Polished.

She looked at Ego’s clothes. Ironed and clean, free of any stains.

She looked at Ego’s face and hair. He was very well put together and clean-shaven.

“I’ve never seen you put together like this.” She squinted, leaning back in her chair. “It’s… weirding me out. You didn’t like taking care of yourself.”

“How so?” He grabbed his glass, extending his pinky to the air as he sipped his drink. After said sip, he exhaled, setting the cup down onto the desk and steepling his fingers, a habit he seemed to pick up after spending a lot of time with his new buddies at Meeple. “You should enlighten me.”

She tilted her head in response to the question. There was no inkling of this being an interrogation, but it made sense seeing as she had just come from the house of someone who he’d been running from for a few months. She would be on the edge too. How she hated empathizing with people so easily.

Desire peeked at the reflective mirror that spanned through the office. It was barely even an office, more like a personal bar and relaxation room. More like a home office instead of an office-office. There were many alcoholic bottles and glassware lined in the shelves, as well as a long conference table with black leather chairs lining each side. It was obvious he used it to butter his clients up.

Clinking of ice in Ego’s glass made Desire dart her eyes back to him.

He was still leaning on his desk with one leg crossed over the other, left hand keeping himself steady and right hand swirling the glass. His face had a smile. It had that smile ever since she entered the room; She’d never seen him so happy to see her— or anyone for that matter.

“What’s with the whole… Smiling thing?” Desire gestured towards his face. “S’That permanent now, or what?”

Ego tilted his head, still staring at her with his unblinking headlights of eyes. “Answer the question, Desire.”

For a few seconds she chewed on her lip, looking down ashamed. “You just really remind me of that OJ guy that Test Tube built you to look like.”

He froze for a minute, completely static still. Then, he looked off for a moment, seeming to be suddenly deep in thought. A darkness behind his eyes, something he’d used to do often when under Test Tube’s roof.

“...Ego?”

“What do you mean by that?” He chuckled. “What, you think I’m just a carbon copy? A cookie cutter kind of man?” After setting his drink down, he seemed to hunch down and grip his stomach, cradling himself as he cackled in complete hysterics. His laughter was so loud, it was practically booming. He seemed to try to be speaking, yet nothing was really intelligible.

Then he fell quiet, still hunched over and breathing shakily. A dread sunk within Desire’s stomach.

“I-I really didn’t mean to offend you, Ego—”

“And might I say,” Ego stood upright, wiping a tear from his eye from the laughter he let out, “you do remind me quite of that Lightbulb when you say such silly things. Especially when you look so much like her.”

For a moment she smiled brightly, then looked away with a frown. “Well, I really don’t want to look this way anymore.” She gripped her arm and looked at her hand, tightening it to a fist. “While, yeah this is how she looked, it’s not how I look. Does that make sense?”

Ego nodded, steepling his fingers once again.

Desire quite liked this new version of Ego. He wasn’t angry or permanently pissed like he used to be. He was someone better. Someone who listened and took things smoothly. Nonabrasive. Someone who wasn’t too caught up on his own— well, ego.

“Meeple has this kind of technology,” he started, “We’ve helped Cupidity, Edacity, and even Apathy with changing their looks. They barely even look like their very deceased counterparts anymore.” As he rambled, he took out a huge orange Meeple brand cellphone and showed her pictures. And wow did they look different.

Cupidity was more pink. Edacity was more ethereal and sleek. Apathy looked naturally languid.

Desire wanted to look like herself.

“Though you will have to do something for me in return,” Ego put the phone back wherever it came from.

“Anything!” Desire stood up immediately. “I’ll do anything! Please, I just want to feel comfortable in my body. I want to be intimidating, I want to be strong and someone who looks like they’re always thinking intelligent things…” She crossed her arms, rubbing herself softly. “I’ll give anything. I will do literally anything.”

Ego stroked his chin, nodding slowly. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Des.” He stood up and wrapped an arm around her, guiding her out of the office. “You know, we have a new experiment in the works. It’s supposed to go to the MePhones, buuut we need a little lab-rat to test it out on.”

“He’s on the other side of the fucking world!” Mic exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and leaning back into the couch. “Seriously I can never understand how these rich fucks ever find the time to travel if they’re so busy changing the world and shit.”

Taco scoffed. “That’s the thing, Mic, he isn’t changing the world. He’s ruining it. Time is free when you’re completely stupid.” She pressed an ice bag onto her face, wincing after taking a breath from forcing herself to speak. “Just like that crack all over again…”

“Yeah, sorry for kicking your ass,” Cupid smirked as she shut the fridge with her hip. She had two cold sodas in her hand, then one after she tossed it to Cabby. “Seems like I’m ready to kick that idiot’s ass if I bested you.”

Taco sighed. “She has a point. I was quite literally trained by him.”

Desire leaned on Mic’s shoulder. While they had all noticed her silence, they thought it would be best to let her wallow in it. That’s how she always coped with the shotgun blast of thoughts, right?

Nah. Not really. But there wasn’t a point in ruining the illusion of Desire being a ball of negative emotions, right? That’s the kind of thing that made her tougher. Bottling it up. Being numb. Just as Cupid does.

“Well,” Cupid cracked open the can, “Cabby, you still talk with Lifering right?”

Cabby almost choked, spitting some soda onto the ground and punching her chest to breath. “You c-can’t just ask someone that? Christ,” She shook her head. “I… I don’t know. I mean I guess the boat would be a good way to get across the sea but I don’t really enjoy the water too much.”

“I forgot that Ego tried to drown you,” Cupid took another sip, then began to chug the drink. “That’s alright. All we’d need you to do is convince Lifering to use him and his boat. Then you can stay back here.”

“You…” Test Tube (Paragon?) muttered. “You can’t stay. You have so much information that if we leave without you we’ll be unable to fill in the gaps and—”

“Test Tube.” Cabby rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You don’t need my information anymore. I’ve done all I can. I’ll take you to Lifering, then get you guys on that boat on the way to Ego. Then you guys can pinpoint his exact location from there, okay?”

Test Tube looked at Cabby’s hand, then to Cabby. She was smiling sincerely and comfortingly. It was warmingly different.

“Affirmative…” Test Tube looked towards the rest of the group. “So then, tomorrow we can head off to the docks. Everyone on board?” She tilted her head.

The behavior from Test Tube made Desire feel heavily uneasy, but she wasn’t going to object. She just wanted to see Ego get the lights beaten out of him once and for all.

Chapter Text

Ocean waters are a vast and unforgiving abyss. Tides come in and suck everything away into itself, forcing whatever remained on the beach so peacefully to wash away in the blink of an eye. Ebbing and flowing, the chances of ever finding said ‘everything’ are suddenly slim and close to null. Only fools could ever call themselves confident enough to dive into that abyss in search of what they missed so dearly. Candidly, had they even treasured it in the first place if they left it to be snagged away by the salty tendrils of the water by the seaside? Had they sincerely missed the item, or did they just want to prove to theirself that they didn’t make a mistake?

When Desire looked at Cupid, she saw someone who had remarkable strength— A strength that Desire, honestly, was a little jealous of. Her emerald eyes shimmered with an anger within her as she boasted about her experiences. Not like she would actually use them, Desire knew better than that. Cupid only wanted to ‘spar’ and ‘train’ with Desire because Cupid knew that she was programmed with much more speed and agility than Desire had.

Speaking with such a high and mighty tone, Cupidity only spilled about her own experiences and stories that she’d gone through after being fixed by Paragon. So much so that it would have been assumed that she was the one built with pride in mind. Arguably, Desire wasn’t really in her right mind being so envious of the whole thing.

“Des?”

Desire looked away from Cupid, Mic and Taco and snapped her attention towards Cabby, who also had a man standing next to her. He was quite broad and toned with thick tan lines from working outside so much. It made sense, seeing as he seemed to be the owner of the boat that they were working on borrowing.

“Lifering said we can use the boat. If it was his , that is.” Cabby winced. “Apparently someone bought it from him and just started living in it.”

Desire pursed her lips and shook her head a bit, now looking at Lifering and expecting an explanation.

Only able to let out some nervous grunts and stutters, Lifering began rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… He gave me a weighty price for it! I just thought since he wasn’t bothering anyone or being a nuisance, he could live in it. I mean he is kind of sketchy, at least to me, but I don’t really care as long as he’s not doing anything dangerous!”

At this stage of Lifering’s pointless ramblings, the others in the group caught onto what he was saying and listened in. “Sketchy?” Taco crossed her arms. “How exactly is this client sketchy?”

Microphone pinched the bridge of her nose. “We can never get a true break can we? Shame on me for thinking we could even have any semblance of a vacation on a boat.”

Lifering lifted a finger. “Boaty, you mean,” He gave a faltering chuckle. “A-Anyways, I’m just saying you’ll have to take it up with the new ‘Boaty-resident’. He paid in all cash, so just…” He trailed off, waving his hand towards the boat. “Okay, between you and me, the guy couldn’t get any creepier.”

A deep voice, clearing their throat came from the bow of the boat, and there stood a man with slicked back yet spiky hair, sporting a black turtleneck sweater and black slacks. His glasses were rounded, and his eyes seemed to be aged. “Am I interrupting anything important?”

Lifering stammered, then folded his hands behind his back. “Ballpoint Pen! It’s lovely out here isn’t it?!”

“No, you should proceed with how creepy I am,” He lifted his chin, examining the group on the dock. “And who are these fine folk?”

Taco noticeably shifted, glaring at the man with a fire in her eyes. “We were wanting to borrow this boat but it seems to be already occupied.” She was brief and succinct, controlled by an emotion that Desire couldn’t make out at the time. Though, admittedly, Desire was also cognizant of the man on the boat’s identity. She could read him like a book, she always could with him.

Between the elevated man and the group below him, the wind began to pick up. Near the harbor and by the sea, there was always a breeze that tickled the back of their necks. Even so, the man did not waver. Standing tall, he continued his gaze to them all, examining their faces. Some familiar, and some not. She knew he didn’t care for who they were— A highly trained assassin would never have to worry about someone’s identity unless given an explicit reason to do so. A man with quite the precise shot with a gun, someone whose aim was precise to the point of earning the attention of Ego, his hands were just as steady as his cold, hard gaze.

She nearly forgot she was even conscious until she could hear the bushes shuffle and wrinkle.

Ballpoint Pen was one of the many hires of Ego that had attempted to help Desire hone her strength and accuracy. Someone who was there to help when the CEO couldn’t spare any extra second to help her with her weak shots. Getting on this boat with this man could spell out more trouble than him even knowing their location. They’d be trapped on this boat for days with him, watching behind their backs and feeling that hair-standing sensation on the back of their necks for all of it. Well, until they’d inevitably be culled one by one under the demand of a weak man’s pride.

Though in her continuous daze, Test Tube seemed to take a step forward, extending her arm in front of Cupidity, Taco, Mic, and Desire. She had been shouting something indignantly to the man on the boat, it wasn’t like Desire could make it out. There was something rocking in her stomach, a hard pit that was telling her to turn tail and book it out of there as fast as her puny heels could take her.

She barely noticed she was shivering until Lifering covered her in his bright red puffer jacket. There was also something about the man’s smile that sent a warmth throughout her body, one that wrapped her up in a similar covering as the jacket. Additionally a knowing glint in his eyes as he shifted his gaze from Boaty to another part of the dock. 

Desire wasn’t listening to the spiel that Test Tube was rambling on about, yet they finally seemed to come to some sort of consensus.

Motion sickness. Desire’s mind was now focused on the possibility of motion sickness. She’d never even been on a boat, and this time was bound to leave another scar amongst the myriad of defacements in her mind. Each step she took onto the dock, onto the ramp that led the prey to the hunter, she found herself gravitating ever closer and closer towards Microphone. While huddling in her scuffy yet new red puffer jacket that was a few sizes too big, she gripped Mic’s hand, leading to her looking down at the blonde. Who was she kidding though, motion-sickness wouldn’t even be able to affect her robot insides in any way. There was nothing to chuck up, nothing to lose. The two interlocked fingers, finally boarding the deck of Boaty, standing in front of the sinister man in front of them.

Test Tube further stood her ground. “We truly do outnumber you here. So don’t try anything funny,” she lectured as she pointed a finger in the man’s face.

Ballpoint Pen seemed to size her up, then the rest of them. His eyebrows crinkled along with a now wry smile as he chuckled to himself. “I see. I know what you are,” he raised his hands and looked away from them all, eyeing the ocean. “Half human half robot. Why, that is just too cute! You think you can do more damage than me because you’re with all of these other shells.” His eyes seemed to linger on Taco for a bit, then he turned to step away. “You can all find me in the cabin below. I’ll… Make sure to free up some space for you all below.”

Looking down to the dock, Desire saw Lifering and Cabby in a deep conversation, neglecting to even wave goodbye to the now departing boat. The wind continued to blow. It was salty, and twisting her hair all over and obfuscating her vision to the point where Microphone had to lead her to the helm, and helping her tidy up from the stickiness of the sea.

“Mic.” Desire looked away from her, staring out the helm’s windows and watching as the land slowly shrank behind them. What concerns could she even share that Microphone did not know already? Of course they all knew what sort of dangerous game it was trying to play nice with someone who worked for the man that had a moral bounty on his very own head. “I don’t want to die, Mic. I really don’t.”

Microphone reflexively extended her arms, bringing Desire into a big hug. “Don’t do anything bad because of this anxiety, okay?” Microphone held her close. “As long as we keep him from getting angry or anything, I feel like he’ll let us off the hook.”

That was a rich one.

“You don’t know him like I do, Mic,” Desire stole herself away from Mic’s arms, readjusting her jacket. “He’s a conniving snake. We’ll be killed and our heads will be mounted on Ego’s fireplace like trophies.”

“He has a fireplace?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Desire peeped, “he has so much money that his office isn’t even just an office— No, wait, why are we even talking about this?” She absentmindedly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we at least just have a game plan in place, just for the possibility of things going off the shits?” She crossed her arms, angling her eyes back to the deck.

Ballpoint Pen began chatting it up with Cupidity, who seemed wholly disinterested in what he had to say as she was touching up her makeup in a pink, heart-shaped compact mirror.

After noticing the scene as well, Mic sighed. “Sure,” she gave in, “We’ll talk for a bit.”

The sunset sank beautifully into the sea, allowing for the blazing oranges and pinks to sink into the darkness of the inky black waves that the boat had been slightly rocking on for quite some time.

Desire found herself standing near the bow of the ship, gripping the railing and peeking over it to look at the water below. She could see nothing. It matched the sky above, only illuminated by the pinpricks of starlight and the soft shower of the moonlight that even allowed her to maneuver her way from the cabin in the first place. No matter how hard she gripped the railing, her joints felt weak. Her limbs were weighing her down, her emerald blood felt stagnant, pulling her down as if it were begging her to go to the hell where it belonged.

“You can barely see the water, right?”

She whipped her head around, the metal in her pointer finger shifting to reveal a small pistol-like barrel and aimed it towards the figure that dared to sneak upon her. His coat blended with the darkness, the only thing that gave away to who exactly he was, was the golden rings and necklace that he wore, shining in the moonlight as he tilted his head in wonder at the way her hand had formed into a weapon.

For a second, she thought it would have been best to lower it away from him, but she fought against that fear.

“Very interesting that you aim that at someone who you know is more qualified to even fire such a thing,” he pushed his hands into his coat pockets, leaning closer to the finger and pressing it up against his forehead. “You should look me in the eyes and pull the trigger, Desire.”

Her eye twitched as the warmth of his forehead touched the barrel of her finger. “You’re a sick bastard. How come we just so happen to get on the boat where you live, huh? Did you set this shit up with Lifering somehow?”

His smile faltered as he stood up straight again, looking off to the area of the ocean where Desire’s eyes were previously stuck. “Not at all. It’s merely coincidental.”

She furrowed her brows, unable to keep her interrogations to herself. “Why did you do all of that to me?”

Ballpoint Pen looked back to Desire, examining the red jacket that she was now holding closer to her body. He then leaned onto the railing next to her, taking off his glasses and fitting them into the breast pocket of his shirt. “I’m terribly sorry dear, I’ve no clue what you mean.”

Those words stung. Hard.

“L-Like,” she gestured to herself. “I really thought you were nice. Like, I finally left Test Tube’s lab and came to Ego, and then when Ego became his egomaniac self and began to ignore me, you provided me comfort. Then you threw me away too.” Her lips quivered; partially from the cold and partially from the emotions that were rushing through her mind.

He tapped his fingers on the railing to a simple rhythm as he chuckled. “Do you do this to everyone you have some sort of reunion with, dear?”

“Can’t you just explain to me, at least?” Desire begged, allowing for her hand to lower and revert back to the way it was before. “What was going through your head?”

The assassin adjusted his posture, turning himself to fully face Desire so she could see his entire body. Nothing was hidden, and nothing was sudden. “Desire, Ego thought you were a failure from the very beginning.”

Besides that.

“It’s kind of concerning that you ever really believed him, you know that right? You sought a man who left you behind and assumed he’d see potential in you, even though he didn’t see that potential when you all were trying to escape? Seriously?” A tinge of concern rested on his face, as well as some weird air of superiority. “He treated you exactly how he treated the MePhones. You meant nothing to him. He left me to deal with you, and while I did try to the best of my ability to train you and help you become stronger, it was… Well…” He trailed off, looking towards the moon. “All my efforts were futile. I had to abandon that assignment and mission to focus on other, more important and higher paying commissions.”

He stood up, beginning to walk back toward the cabin of the ship after uttering a few final words.

“I couldn’t keep it up forever.”

And as soon as his silhouette disappeared out of view, Desire’s throat grew tight. Something pounded within her skull, echoing and banging and throbbing as she leaned onto the boat railing for physical support. The jacket around her body was constricting her like a snake, and she could only weakly claw and tear it off of her skin angrily, gripping and choking it as if it were alive, so hard that her hands and body were trembling.

Typical Desire, always the kind to be beaten down when showing any semblance of genuine emotion. Someone who was never deserving of the things she wanted, someone who would always be abandoned by those who she deemed safe.

At full force, she wound her arm back and threw the jacket overboard with a loud grunt, and watched as the bright red dissolved into the sea of hunger. Watching as it stole something of comfort from her just as the world always had.

And then there was a loud thump coming from the cargo hold.

Twisting herself, she peeked through her hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and towards the other end of the boat. If she heard the noise from the front, then surely the others would have heard it as well. Maybe the sound of something falling? Though she had no clue what exactly Ballpoint Pen even carried in the cargo. Weapons of some sort knowing him. Maybe alcohol or food. Cigars for Ego?

Her curiosity got the better of her, as she found herself standing in front of the door. Below the deck, in the even darker darkness. The even chillier cold and the salty air was burning. Using the rest of her might, she pushed the cargo doors open, emanating a loud creaking noise that reverberated through her ears.

Soft lights were hooked inside of the walls, shining softly upon the crates and wooden boxes that were stacked from the floor to almost the roof. Icons on the crates were stamped in black ink that Desire couldn’t even understand. She decided to shove the worry down and assume that it was all probably nice things that he just so happened to keep. Maybe food! Probably hygiene supplies. Clothes, even.

And she could tell that some of the crates had clothes, because there was a beige fedora on the ground, alongside a lonely, matching beige coat.

Chapter Text

Edacity pressed on the small spring shaped toy with all his might, allowing it to shoot up toward the roof and bounce all around the green room of the theatre. “Seriously, I just don’t understand why you try to please that boy,” he sighed, tilting his head and resting it on his fist.

“Well,” Ego started as he adjusted his tie, “you’re not the one who has to hear him try to nit-pick everything you do when you don’t give him what he wants. Remember when he was just ‘Evil Paper’ for you, hm?” The man’s gaze lifted from his smiling face to the mirror, eyeing the pastor. “And remember when he was the one that caused chaos and wreaked havoc amongst us when we were trapped? I’ll bend a knee to him as long as he ends up leaving me and my plans alone.”

Unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Temperance had proved to be quite annoying, especially when he’d take control of Edacity’s body when he would be in the straight middle of a major conversation with Ego. No matter how many times they would tinker around in Eda’s ‘coding’, there was no way to remove the second consciousness within.

“To the point of going through with building a prototype for a cereal brand… ” Edacity looked at the loose spring on the floor. “It’s quite embarrassing how he does this to my image.”

In front of the mirror, Ego hadn’t shifted his gaze yet. Still making sure there were no blemishes on his faux skin, no wrinkles in his suit or pants, and even moving his tie millimeters, tweaking it to be what he deemed to be perfect. “What image?”

He finally turned to the pastor, meeting eye to eye.

“Oh! Right,” Ego laughed, raising a hand and waving. “The image of you begging those humans to join your church so you can find community. I see!” He chuckled, clearly tickled by the image in his mind. “I understand.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Edacity scowled at the businessman in front of him.

Ego inched forward to Edacity, holding out his hand and gripping the pastor’s chin with his index finger and thumb. He furrowed his brows, his smile seeming just a bit more warm than usual. “You know I don’t see anything wrong with the fact that you mingle alongside lesser beings. In fact, I think it’s truly adorable that there’s a possibility of them even being interested in standing alongside you. Especially with those chemicals in your veins.”

While Edacity smiled gratefully at the thought of Ego’s praise, there was something sour within the words. Though he knew Ego really believed the best for him and only him. Vengeance, Desire, Cupidity, Apathy, and even himself were all just his failed experiments. Guinea pigs for Ego to play with until he found and perfected a vessel and Edacity was the one true person who would be able to fulfill the great role that Ego wished for humanity.

And Ego’s hand was warm on Edacity’s chin, much like a man’s. Edacity’s heart was beating and pumping the emerald ichor, just as a man’s heart would pump crimson blood just as it was its god-given right to do. The divine ichor that Ego had blessed Edacity with, the ethereal fluid given to the moon by the sun that burned so bright that it dared to eat not only the moon, but the Earth and stars whole. Consuming just as Eda had; Consuming and never fulfilling the appetite. Feeling neither satisfied nor satiated.

How Edacity wished to be able to bless Ego right at a moment’s notice. How he wished to snap his fingers and grant his demands in the blink of an eye. And yet, all Eda could do was get rid of those who dared to try to harm him or humanity. Not in the same vein of a hitman, more like a righteous deliverer of justice. There were some sick people in the world, and Ego would always make sure to inform Edacity of it.

Take Knife, for example. A man who was getting a little too close to the truth of how Ego wanted to provide enlightenment to the world. Wanting to unveil the truth before it was ready. How could someone ever want to prevent humanity from expanding and growing? Being granted with the things the company, Meeple, had engineered in the past few months at a rapid rate would probably even grant the two of them awards. Trophies that Edacity had no need for honestly. It was odd that humans decided to reward others for doing the right thing, such as creating a life saving and power-enhancing chemical that allowed for the first leg of justice to take step upon the stairway to eternal tranquility.

“You’ve been quiet for the past few days, Eda.”

Moments of silence are usually used for reflection, and to bask in his glory. “I have.” His eyes snaked to the green room’s door. “I’m admittedly somewhat uneasy about unveiling everything to a public crowd.” Also due to Temperance’s incessant meddling, especially as of frequent.

Ego let go of the man’s chin, backing up by a few centimeters and standing up straight. “I don’t think you understand just how important this is.”

Of course it meant the world to Ego, how could Edacity ever forget? It was all the man talked about. Impressing investors, continuing to work on things even though they were in tip-top shape. The man was a perfectionist, down to the stroke of the pen and the pacing of the reports. Though, Edacity had other suggestions on how to handle such an important project shared between the two of them.

“I dread the idea of you exposing our collaboration without the proper care or connotations,” Eda started, leaning away from the table he was previously relying on to feel stabilized. All of his weight shifted to his pelvis and hands, locking himself to the seat securely; Cradling himself in the cushiony chair was a method he always uses to comfort himself when sharing his thoughts with his friend. “You’re an amazing man, Ego. I admire you, I truly do, but I can’t help but feel that this entire spectacle is stupid. I mean, an entire theatre to showcase something that the people already know about?”

Stupid was an interesting choice of words, as usually Edacity would not dare to ever step over the line that was drawn between the two. That line being that Ego had the whole world in his hands to crush at any moment, and Edacity would help just when the time was right. When Ego would call for it. And as of now, Ego’s pride was far too large for him to see past. “You want to keep your location anonymous at all times yet you do these things and basically drag Test Tube and whoever else might be interested in the money on your head along.”

Another moment of silence as Edacity watched the man raise his arms lightly, displaying his whole outfit to Edacity. “Do you think the crowd will like how I look? Aren’t I devilishly handsome?”

“You know I don’t meddle with that aesthetically pleasing thing,” Edacity drummed his claws on the chair. “And pay attention to me, please.”

A red, digital clock ticked. Only a few more minutes left until Ego had to emerge on stage with his new technology. Standing at his pulpit of modern engineering, exposing the soft and hardware that would push humanity to the edge, preparing them for absolutely anything. Coming on stage, bearing gifts for them to acquire if they only forked over hundreds of dollars. Anyone could follow in his footsteps.

“Indulging yourself in my affairs to fulfill yourself,” Ego muttered, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. “That isn’t smart of you, Eda.”

“Smart of me?” Eda shouted. “And what of you?! We have the whole world at our fingertips and you’re risking it being all thrown away. Do you not understand what you’re risking here?”

Ego tilted his head, bringing a hand to his chin and stroking lightly. “And you, Eda?”

Furrowing his brows, Eda scowled at the man in front of him. “What about me?” He muttered, holding a hand to his chest in a fist.

“Confessing that you see me as stupid?” He took a step towards Eda. “Admitting that you see this as a joint effort? You constantly ask me to look in the mirror and realize how insane I sound, yet you never think to ask about yourself,” He slammed his hands on the table, on either side of Eda, locking him in the chair. The CEO’s orange, glowing eyes staring right into Edacity’s longing soul. “And saying it to my face of all things…” Ego couldn’t help but laugh in the other man’s face. “Pretty fucking stupid if you ask me!”

He could carve Eda alive if he wanted to, right at this very moment. It wasn’t right of him to be expressing his annoyance towards Ego in this way. There was no good in it, no matter how he looked at it. Never was the idea of him being wrong ever this obvious before. “You’re right,” Eda stammered, “I’m sorry. I apologize profusely. May you forgive me for the lies I’ve told you straight to your face. I sincerely apologize. I am sorry…” He continued to repeat his regrets and begged for forgiveness from the man in charge of it all. “I’m but a foolish man, don’t you know?”

“ Man is stretching the truth quite a bit,” Ego ruffled Edacity’s hair, messing up the neatness of it being slicked back, now making it ruffled. Now less appealing than Ego’s put together hair. “Remember your roots, Edacity. If you push your curiosity of humans too far, you’ll end up becoming just like them.”

The clock hit 10:00 AM.

“You’ll end up stupid. And naïve,” Ego adjusted his coat, still sporting that salesman smile. “And you’ll forget just how amazing I actually am.” As a final parting gift, Ego gave a strong thumbs up towards the trembling Edacity.

Gears whirred within Edacity’s body, echoing in his ears. Nobody else could hear, of course. Only Edacity had been cursed to be so hyper aware of his mechanical noises. Awful, a hellish curse casted upon him since his first breath of consciousness.

The crowd was outside for Ego’s presentation, clapping and cheering.

Eda’s body was clicking.

Then buzzing.

Buzzing.

Buzzing…

Only then did Edacity realize to check his pockets, taking out a specialized phone that Ego had lovingly handcrafted as a gift. A contact had been spamming him with texts for the past few minutes. One man that Ego had trusted as well, a peculiar human that Eda never really saw potential in as he was downright evil.

“Stowaway on ship. Test Tube and lackeys here as well. Take caution.”

Chapter Text

Cheers from the crowd filled Ego with an airy elation, something that left him wanting only more. The louder the rousing applause, the larger a hole burnt through himself. He could only wave his hand to the cheering customers, the clapping stacks of money, the money signs that only allowed him to grow more confident in his ability to sell, sell, sell. As if a blush crept across his cheeks, as if he would ever be embarrassed about the level of praise he began to receive. It was exhilarating, how long the crowd went on without allowing him to utter a single syllable to calm the crowd down. The spotlight would have made him sweat if he were any human.

“Please, please!” He raised his hands, gesturing for the crowd to quieten down some. “I’m just a humble man, a lowly engineer. A scientist, if you will!” At this point he was just throwing words to the wall and hoping it would stick. And he knew they were eating it all up. They always did. A new model, a new app, a new feature, a new item that required them to buy extra parts to even use it in relation to the devices they unveiled.

But today was different.

“Today we’re revealing the biggest project Meeple Incorporated has been working on!” He shouted into the microphone, towards the crowd, to the cowering man in the greenroom. “As someone very near and dear to me says,’” He stepped toward one side of the stage, allowing for an assistant MeTag to roll out a wheeling-table. Atop that table was a small glass dome, securely bolted to the table. “‘Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’”

In that dome, placed centerstage on the table, was a green mass, sloshing and jolting and pulsating as if it were on its last wire of life. Twitching like a dead animal. Beating like a lone heart. There was something grotesque about it, something Ego couldn’t place. Yet he found himself falling even more in love with the future he was pushing humanity toward. Advancing technology, pushing humans to their limits in the name of progress and being able to crown himself as the emperor of tech. He was gratified to see the visible intrigue on the crowd that sat below him; His followers.

Behind him and above the stage, a screen began to slowly roll down, displaying the Meeple logo. The new Meeple logo: An orange with a section cut out of it, and a nice leaf poking out of the top. A fine cut, a precise cut. Cutting an orange leads to the tantalizing juices that flow out of an orange, pooling to the floor and creating branches of tangy remains. Extending the arms out to those who so desperately crave for more, those who wish they possessed a gift from someone who only had the best intentions for them.

Below his hand and caged by glass, the green sludge clung to the top of the dome, longing to attach itself to Ego’s hand. He flinched a bit, lifting his hand to his chest and gripping the microphone tighter than ever. “W-We’ve developed a most pure energy source, a new green energy that our devices will run on! Our project, previously codenamed Project X as some know from our newsletter, practically demolishes the idea of disposable batteries. It reduces even the thought of carbon emissions by a whopping 99%.

“It’s the new green energy source, harvested from the purest light, and a few extra secrets, yet all natural ingredients that our scientists have fine tuned to keep its users safe!” He hesitantly gave a light pat on the glass ball, then yanked his hand away to point up to the projector screen above him. And as the lights turned low, he gave a few extra words. “Just listen to our own staff as we were developing the product! Real anecdotes from people who are just like you !”

On the screen was a man with dark crimson hair and dark yellow sections of hair that framed his face, along with a wide smile as he adjusted in his seat. “Hellooo Meeple conference!”

Ego felt his eyes twitch upon seeing the ex-employee.

Ven, on the screen, held a bright red MePhone with its back popped off, revealing the squishy neon insides. “This new product is really neat, I promise! It’s wholly organic so I don’t have to worry about all those pesky batteries expiring! Or even having to buy replacement parts in general!” Vengeance.

The screen transitioned to dark then to light, as if it were blinking.

A frowning man with gold hair that tied into a ponytail. He had dark eyeliner on and even darker lipstick. Upon noticing the camera rolling, he stammered, holding up the phone he was holding in his hands. “See, the new eco-tech is way better than the other devices in the market. I can, uh, not get actively harmed when the insides of my phone are made cheaply. ‘Cause they aren’t made all cheap with Meeple. You won’t have to lose your head trying to find a trustworthy source since Meeple only has your best interest in mind.” Apathy.

Dark, then light.

Blonde hair flashed on the screen, showing a smiling woman displaying her phone with a smile. She dangled the phone in front of the camera, making a silly noise accompanying it when it dropped onto the ground. “And with Meeple, our new line of devices can’t be broken that easily! Throw it, chuck it, slam it, do whatever! It just won’t shatter!” She turned to pick it up, then repeatedly slammed it on the ground. “Basically unbreakable!” Desire.

The screen went dark, showing a lone Meeple logo before fully shutting off and pulling itself back up and hiding within the roof of the stage. The lights slowly turned back on as the crowd clapped louder and louder. A roaring, and thunderous applause.

Ethos, pathos and logos.

Ethos, pathos and logos.

Remember. Ethos. Pathos. Logos.

“Aren’t our scientists just the best of the best?! Hasn’t Meeple always promised the top products that, as studies show, increase productivity within users by 99%?!” Ego shouted, pointing the microphone to the crowd and picking up the fanatical cheering and clapping from dedicated Meeple fans. “Aren’t other device competitors always wasting your time and always churning out awful and insecure updates, allowing for your very own data to be leaked and stolen?! And also, wouldn’t it just be the obvious and intelligent choice to purchase a Meeple product? Give it up for the Shimmer-Phones, everyone!” As the people in the audience continued the celebrations in response to the CEO hyping the line of devices up, the green slime began to churn. Bubbling and vibrating. Cowering at the sound of the cheers, screams, and applause. The sounds only a natural born leader and guide can receive. The velvet curtains began to sink down slowly, separating Ego and the crowd.

This has proven it to them.

To Knife, who had promised Ego that he’d have his head on a stake. The shadow of a man who despised the idea of an eternal life, now doomed with being conjoined and intertwined with the very man who massacred the people he loved.

To Desire, the idiot who blindly put her faith into a con artist. Someone who had dedicated every fiber of her being to being somewhat useful instead of being the comedic relief that she was born into this world to be. A lover who was moulded to fight.

To Test Tube, the creator who belittled and tormented Ego from the very beginning. Creating the framework for the hunger within the belly of the beast that was never satisfied. The one who created the root of all evil.

A being who grew obsessed with the image of a dead man’s success and wealth, desiring to attain all that and more. A gluttonous freak who overindulged in the riches available at his fingertips, relishing in the pleasure of earning more and more. A greedy liar who wanted more just to have more than others. A slothful oddity that knew the good that would come from his progress in development yet choosing not to acknowledge nor strive for it, running the scheme under many false promises. An envious idiot who put in the work to earn a privilege to take what wasn’t his in the first place. A wrathful monster who killed the ones who got in his way.

From his side, he felt two lanky arms wrap around him tightly mere seconds after the thick, velvety curtains touched the stage. For a split second, Ego felt a warmth, yet he was suddenly slammed to the wall.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Edacity hissed through his teeth. “You knew that revealing this would be a horrible idea, and now your own employees are being slaughtered on a boat in, oh Lord only knows where!” Eda’s bony fingers gripped Ego’s collar tightly, lifting him just a few millimeters off of the ground. “What could you possibly have to say for yourself this time?!”

“I don’t care if they’re dying, Edacity.” Ego muttered, barely audible from under the still applauding audience that came from behind the curtain.

The white haired robot’s pupils shrank as his eyebrows furrowed. There were wrinkles framing his frown. For a few seconds, Eda could only glare at the man. “Wipe that smile off your face. This isn’t humorous at all.”

Ego tilted his head. “What happened to you praising me, Edacity?”

“Fuck you, Ego.”

Ego felt static electricity shoot through his body. Perhaps a literal interpretation of shock that his body wasn’t used to? “W-What?”

“I said FUCK YOU.” Edacity let the collar go, allowing for Ego to stand upright on his feet. Yet just as Edacity turned on his heel to leave, Ego gripped Edacity’s wrist and held him in place. Eda grunted and groaned, trying to pull his hand out of the CEO’s grasp. “Let go! Unhand me!”

“You’re missing Hubris, I understand that.” Ego’s grin beamed as he dug his nails into Edacity’s faux skin. “You want to feel the emotions I feel because you know that all of this exhilaration is only a product of human brain chemicals. You know I’m more technologically advanced than you in terms of code. You want to experience Hubris again, don’t you?”

Edacity growled as his arm twisted with a shade of green as it slinked around Ego’s own wrist. The two slowly merged together, a mass screaming in agony in tune with the crowd. Black hair. A black tie, yet many arms and a mouth as big as its face. Devilish complacency and self-confidence oozed out of each and every pore, slinking across the stage as its screams of agony were masked by the crowd. It stunk of raw, putrid conceit. Chemicals. It burned.

Eda threw himself off, tossing himself and Ego to each side of the stage.

A few minutes of silence as the sound of the crowd simmered down, leaving the entire theatre unaware of the shitshow that had transpired behind closed curtains. The two mechanical men were huffing, gripping at their own chests where their hearts should be. The pain of melding together was too much to bear, even for nonhuman beings such as them. Sensations of unfamiliar burning, stinging, stabbing and tearing had clawed at their bodies in the few moments of saccharine dependence.

Yet Edacity finally managed to croak out: “You ruined me as a person, Ego.”

Ego found himself staring worriedly at Edacity. Frowning. There weren’t any words that could have accurately described the agitation within himself.

“I’ve been busting my ass trying to please you because I wholly thought you were some divine man that would lead humanity to greatness. I have countlessly relied on you to show me how humans work, how they tick. And yet you’ve done nothing but manipulate them. Manipulate me.”

Ego began shaking his head side to side. “No that’s wrong, I—”

“You’ve had me murder innocent people, haven't you? People whom you lied about with your full chest… People who deserved a chance at life, a chance at acquiring even a fraction of fame that you have. People who could have cured diseases, people who you were scared of achieving more than you ever could.” Edacity slapped a hand on his forehead, twitching out a smile.

And then the laughter came. The shuddering laughter of a man who realized he had been played. “You played me like a fiddle, Ego-Ideal. You really, truly did!” Tears pricked at the white-haired man’s eyes as he shakily stood up, pushing his weight onto the wall to balance himself. There were cuts on him. Neon sludge had dripped through, splattering onto the ground like blood.

Ego stammered, grasping at the floor and pushing himself up. “Edacity, wait! I didn’t lie about anything—” His knees buckled, toppling him and causing him to stumble forward, falling onto the wheeling table and pushing it forward toward the shaking man on the other end of the stage.

The table rolled forward, lightly tapping the wall that Edacity was holding onto. His eyes watched as the green creature in the dome swirled around in a mini vortex, then he glanced at the green blood on the stage below him. Between his shoes. Then, he looked toward Ego, who had seemingly injured himself on the table during the fall. A large gash from his palm all the way down to his wrist, exposing the circuits and wires inside.

Yet, there was a black oil.

No green. No glow. No viscous fluid that had been keeping him alive.

Edacity’s smile faltered as he looked up and away from Ego, turning up his chin. As if he were fighting back more tears that threatened to spill.

“It…” Ego pressed his hand to his chest, soiling his shirt in the black tar. “It’s not what it looks like! You’re seeing things! You know ever since I accidentally damaged your eye back at Test Tube’s house you’ve been seeing weird things!”

A sullen smile rested upon Eda’s lips. “May God have mercy on your soul.” Edacity slowly stumbled off of the stage, leaning against the wall for support as his injuries dripped a trail of glowing slime beneath him.

Ego’s nerves went cold, freezing him in his place as he lost all feeling in each of his limbs, and soon to be his entire body. If he could, he would have exploded right then and there just to teach that idiot a lesson for leaving him, but why was that? He felt heavy. Something within him rattled, drumming in his ears in a rhythmic fashion. He inched closer subconsciously toward the green creature in the globe.

And with a guttural, angry scream, he shattered it onto the floor. Glass ricocheted like bullets, and the creature began to squirm. He cackled between his screams, stamping the life out of the creature below him. One stomp. Two stomps. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

“FINE!” He shouted, kicking the now unmoving sludge under his feet. “Leave, just be my guest! Waltz right out of here like I didn’t do shit to help you THRIVE! As if you don’t owe your entire fucking life to me!” Ego hardly noticed he was trembling, yet when he did, he lifted his hand to examine it. His face reflected from the pitch black oil that smeared all over his clothes. The oil leaked from the large cut in his hand.

“I can take it. I can take this. I’ve had worse happen to me, I’ve had worse happen…” He sighed. Though, he was shaking like a leaf. “I’ve had worse things happen to me. I’ve gone through worse. I can take this, I can do this, I deserve this…” He felt his knees buckle again. Falling towards the floor, he gripped his fingers into a fist and began slamming his hands in the glass and green puddle. His arm outstretched forward and grabbed the dead creature gripping it tightly in his uncut hand. He tried pushing it into the cut, yet it just kept flopping out. Wholly unresponsive to the feeling of control.

And like a child throwing a tantrum, he threw the dead item away.

"What a fucking waste."

Chapter Text

Desire found herself holding up a beige hat, examining it in the low light of the cargo. Too big to fit on her own head atop her knotted hair, much like the coat was too large and loose to even try on. Regardless she still held the cap by the brim, allowing it to bounce increasingly quickly. There was sweat upon her brow; It was not from any sort of heat, but the fear of what lurked beneath the dark. Beyond the crates and boxes. Possibly behind the very one that she stood in front of at this exact moment.

Then came the sound of shuffling, just as her usually unreliable anxiety predicted. There was definitely something there.

Flight never worked. Freeze never worked. So, her impulse was to fight. For defense, of course. Diving as quickly as she could forward into the boxes, swinging her fists around without a concern for what sort of creature may have been hiding beneath the sea of crates. No thoughts besides the default programs: I must protect myself. I must defend myself. If it goes through me then I have failed in achieving humanity. A gist of that, if anything. Because what is the purpose of humanity, if not to fend for oneself? Breathing and simply existing aside, the main purpose of life is to live. And to live you must fight.

Her wrists were snatched, held off to the side as she closed her eyes tightly. Something bigger and stronger than her, as usual, had restricted her into such a position that she felt like her body was going to snap in two. Well, if she were as fragile as a real person she just might have done that. Possibly even willingly with how the pain shot through her wired nerves. Though her cries were pressed back behind her lips willingly, as her face grew hot out of embarrassment. What a useless ploy she came up with.

Above her with a newly bleeding nose (which she had no clue she had even caused until seeing it,) was a man with his long beige hair, knotted yet tied in a ponytail. His facial hair was scraggly, and his body was just as box shaped as the cargo surrounding him. His hands remained firm on her wrists, yet he sported a soft, worried look rather than the anger or bloodlust that Desire had been used to seeing throughout her ‘life.’ While she still had the instinct to fight, she lowered her hands as much as the man allowed her to.

Speaking of the man , he seemed to be examining Desire from top to bottom, seemingly putting his mind to work.

“...Who are you?” She tilted her head away as he let her wrists go, digging his own hands in a nearby satchel. In fact, Desire had just now noticed the makeshift camp that had been made. A sleeping bag along with scattered wrappers of what was most likely expired yet processed pastries and other snacks. The idea of a man being able to hide in the cargo hold without Ballpoint Pen noticing was spine tingling, yet made sense with how deep she had to venture to even vaguely hear anything that came from the stowaway sneaking about.

And then a paper was shoved into her face. It was a small notepad with some words written in small, inked lettering. She looked to the man holding it, who nodded frantically and urged her to hold the pad of paper in her hands.

My name is Box. You look vaguely like someone I used to know. & I think I know why.

Desire looked up once more to Box. “I get that a lot.” After ignoring the lattermost part of the note, she pushed the notepad back to him, shuffling into a more comfortable sitting position. “Why are you here anyway? This is Ballpoint’s ship.”

Box took the notepad back and began scribbling as quickly as he could, like his thoughts were a speeding train. While Desire gave him a little side-eye, she couldn’t help but admire the urgency. Or perhaps this is where he’d admit that he was specifically here to eliminate her and that he knew she was coming down here.

Every single one of Ego’s lackeys knew about the sinbots and would pick them off one by one on behalf of the man. She knew that he found Desire’s lack of cooperation to be the most meddlesome in his progress, as she found herself either the most helpful or the only one his employees actively enjoyed when she helped with their menial tasks around the laboratories, engineering, or even just simple chores and tasks. Not that she enjoyed it herself, as it was all painfully mundane and mind numbing to the point where she lost the very spark that she was programmed to exude. Arguably that had been lost weeks before, but that was not the part she cared for. Nor was the place she was at before working at Meeple important enough for her to wholly pick apart and remember precisely right now. As if she could carefully approach that topic without feeling the need to explode herself on command (if able to, she would have done so ages ago.)

Now in front of her on the notepad: Ballpoint Pen killed my kids.

Of course he did. Whether it be an order from Ego himself or just part of Ballpoint Pen’s twisted scheme to get one last bonus before taking a trip across the ocean for a little assassin’s well earned getaway cruise.

I’m here to get revenge.

Desire narrowed her eyes at him. It was very bold of a nobody like Box to want to get revenge on a fully trained killer. “Well good luck with that one buddy,” she sighed and pulled her knees to cover her face, yet allowing for her eyes to keep out, “sometimes we just have to accept the pieces that fall into place, you know? Even if they’re not ideal.”

The scratching sound of the pen on paper was kind of annoying her at this point, but she chose to accept it. Griping about her sensitive hearing had only led to more complaints anyway, so she chose to get used to the drilling, hammering, the yelling, the popping of champagne and the pouring. Clinking small shot glasses together in the past. The current creaking of the boat rocking, enveloping her body. Swaddling her and cradling her, delivering her to her surefire doom.

Not if you can punish the assholes who keep the good pieces all for themselves. What’s your name?

After reading the note, she slowly handed it back to Box. “Desire. My… ‘friends’ call me Des, though. For some reason.”

More scribbling from the man, softer this time. Less hastily, less hurriedly. He often tapped the pad with his pen. He had scratched out a few things, yet continued onwards as if his words came easily to him. After a few more scratches, he seemed to compose himself effortlessly.

Do you ever feel like a walking corpse, Des?

Like something tragic happened to you in the past. Something so traumatic that should have taken your life, but you made it out alive? I won’t go into the gritty details, but I used to be so scared of even going near bodies of water due to a past incident where I should have drowned. I’ve been going through life wondering if I’m just dead & I’m here in this purgatory. I keep that belief to myself, but ever since my loved ones were stolen from me, I’ve been under the impression that this isn’t just a purgatory, but some form of hell. Things keep being taken from me, so it must be hell surely.

While Desire did feel something similar to Box, she probably didn’t deserve to feel similarly. She couldn’t fathom having such limited life to live and having most of it be ripped away. At least she could have immortality and experience other things for as long as her operating system, well, operates.

A friend of mine used to tell me that she could understand because she had frequent visions due to her own conditions. I appreciated the concern & wanting to relate to someone to help them in not feeling alone, I still felt alone. It’s haunting, really. There are times where it had gotten so bad that I swore I could smell my own flesh rotting. Where I could swear to any higher power up there that I could feel my flesh melting off of my skin.

She had always heard about the marvels of the human brain from the environments she’d been in. The sheer size needed to operate a sack of flesh, to feel almost every nerve in the body. The things it could create on a whim, the range of emotions that people could feel. A crown that encompassed many inexplicable senses, especially with the lengths it went to when helping a human process trauma. Whether it be to block it out until the right moment, or to block it out permanently.

Desire had been doomed with experiencing her life so very lucid the entire time, computing everything and feeling like a failure for wishing to block it out. And she now wondered if it was even valid of her to feel as if she could relate to Box at all, what with the whole ‘friend’ situation he had just enlightened her on.

Though it did help her with being able to expand on her own thoughts to herself more.

She could constantly feel the wires that she was hooked up to back at the company she dare not even name, lest she risk lashing out at her newfound acquaintance without meaning to. And through those wires she could feel the toxicity of the glowing, emerald sludge that pumped through her corners and crevices. Her mechanical and metal endoskeleton inside had been sheathed with whatever the hell it had been. Constantly monitored and tracked, chips placed inside her right after she had clawed the last one out in her ‘sleep’ when she’d been forcibly put in sleep mode by Ego’s lackeys at even the slightest hint of anger from her.

She couldn’t even recognize her own face most of the waking days.

My point is, I’m killing that motherfucker. In my eyes, I’m immortal. He can’t do anything that would hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt. Dead man walking as they say.

Box clicked the pen and shoved it back into his bag, shrugging as soon as Desire looked at him.

“You’re very brave to have confronted all of this about yourself,” she softly handed the pad of paper back to him, allowing him to take it and flip it closed. “When I think about the stuff I’ve gone through, I also have the same exact thoughts. I should have been dead, but I’m here…” She trailed off, blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face. “It really does feel like hell, but the more I tell myself that, I can’t logically believe it. I'm a glamorized computer, basically. I’m forced to be self aware of myself all the time.”

Box lowered his eyes and crossed his legs, motioning that he was listening. Though he obviously couldn’t bear looking at the woman in front of him. He put on a medical mask, covering his nose and mouth.

“Humans have such unfortunate luck, being able to convince themselves of these things rather than wanting to work past it all… But I understand how tough it can be to face a traumatizing life face forward and without question.” Desire felt her body loosen, and she leaned forward to Box. “I know you said that you still felt alone when your friend said that she could relate, but I truly can relate. I had a friend who sacrificed herself to save someone important, yet I find less than likable, and I think to myself in the silence about how it should have been me that risked my life to keep her alive.

My very own self died when I had been constantly experimented on. I feel my flesh constantly cut open, sutured shut, bandaged closed… And it loops in my mind. I know I’m a stranger and my words don’t mean anything to you, but you’re not dead if you’re feeling this much passion about wanting to take this monster down.”

She could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, but it didn’t matter to her. He was just a stranger. Nothing else, really. All she did was give him the words that she wished to hear. It wasn’t up to her to ask if he was okay, but all she had to do was let him know that he was heard and understood. While she wasn’t close to this guy at all, it was the least she could do. The very, bare minimum without overstepping like she always did.

“But let’s go,” Desire stood up, holding a hand out. “I can’t excuse these people taking shit from us any longer. I’ll help you.”

Cupidity was only a fan of tea if it was boba tea. Not the bitter dumpster water that Ballpoint Pen sat in front of her and the gaggle of annoying misfits surrounding her at the table.

Taco had been going on and on about the notes of the tea and basically grilling the man for even steeping it the wrong way. Or using old leaves. Or not heating the water enough. As if it even mattered. Which it all so obviously did not matter in the slightest.

And Microphone had been tapping the table uneasily, occasionally glancing at Cupid. She could tell. Cupid always knew when people were staring. “If you have something to say to me, Microphone, spit it out.”

“S-Sorry, I uh…” Microphone clutched the table. “I’m just getting a bit sea sick and your top is really reflective and I think it’s giving me a migraine.”

“Ugh, then just look away!” Cupid folded her arms and turned up her nose. “Seriously lame…”

Test Tube’s robotic body hissed as her eyes lit up. She lifted a finger in the air, as the true nerd she was, and finally spoke. “I believe it could be comparable to a car crash, your outfit is trash!”

She wasn’t going to forget that was said, but Cupid could feel her eye twitch as she held herself back. Her nails dragged across the table, scratching it so hard it let out an almost ear piercing screech. “Wow I really wish Paragon didn’t kill herself to save someone who is quite literally in love with the quadratic formula yet doesn’t understand people having different fashion tastes!” She hissed through a forced smile and through her teeth.  “Very selfless of her, huh?”

Microphone rolled her eyes and slightly hunched over. “I swear if you people don’t stop the drama for five seconds I’ll kill you all…” She slapped a hand over her mouth and excused herself from the table, disappearing to the bathroom slowly.

“Nonsense,” Ballpoint Pen chimed in, slowly sipping from his cup. “I won’t allow drama on my beautiful Boaty! Dearest Cupidity, talk about your feelings. Allow yourself to feel.”

Taco squinted, pushing her teacup farther away from her. “You’ve killed countless amounts of people and you draw the line at bickering?”

Cupid let out an annoyed huff, looking away from the group. “I’m not letting some rando initiate a therapy session. Buzz off.” No way in hell was she going to suddenly get all sappy and whine about whatever grief she’d been pushing deep down to the people who caused her grief in the first place.

“Guys!” Microphone stumbled back to the table. “There’s a guy at the deck— I can’t recognize him but there’s some fucking guy on the ship… He had a mask on and Desire was with him so she probably has it under control!”

Ballpoint Pen shot up, standing upright. “Excuse me?” After quick hesitation, he took out a cellphone and began to tap on it as quickly as he could.

Taco stood up as well, rushing to Microphone’s side. “Did he hurt you or anything, Mic?”

“No it just sort of scared me, he looked familiar but I assumed it was just the sickness talking,” She leaned against Taco, wrapping her arms around her. “Oh my god if something happens I don’t think I’ll be able to help you guys—”

Taco hushed her and ushered her away to the other end of the ship, hoping to avoid whatever scuffle might occur. Test Tube slowly followed, clunking as the now trio helped Microphone to the stern of the ship with a bucket.

Ballpoint Pen clutched his cellphone and marched to the area where Microphone had seen the man, and Cupidity followed him. While she wasn’t in the mood for fighting, there was something so interesting about watching other people physically scuffle. Free entertainment for her!

The sun had begun to rise, yet just slight enough to alight the sky in an astronomical sunrise. Orange lined the horizon, battling with the deep dark blue of the space above. And on the horizon of the boat stood Desire, standing tall alongside a scruffy man with anger-lit eyes. Cupid recognized the look on the man’s face. She’d seen it many times before; It was the face of someone who knew they had nothing else to lose.

“Shit is definitely about to get real…” She muttered to herself.

“Cupidity.” Ballpoint Pen looked back at her. “Help me fight them. This is basically mutiny.”

She curled her eyebrows upward. “I’m not helping you with this. You forget that I hate you.”

The captain of the ship let out a prolonged sigh. “Very well.” He opened his hand, letting a dagger slide into his palm. He grasped the handle of it tightly and comfortably. “I’ve been two versus one before. Desire, Box… What the hell are you two doing?”

“I’m not rooting for you in the slightest either,” Cupid rolled her eyes. “But I know you may kick their asses. Then I’ll step in and kill you.”

Desire’s face scrunched hearing that. “Kick our asses— I doubt it seeing as he kills the weak to feel better about himself.”

Ballpoint Pen lunged forward, stabbing his dagger toward the man’s skull. Behind him, Desire jumped as well, using all of her might to try to push Ballpoint away. He wobbled backward, shaking his coat off of him and exposing his heavily scarred arms. Old cuts, old burns, many other injuries that have since healed yet were deep enough to leave long lasting markings on him.

Cupidity slowly slid the coat closer to her using the toes of her shoe, bringing it toward her whenever the three of them weren’t facing her general direction.

Ballpoint Pen threw a right hook at Desire, sending her sliding on the ground and rocking the boat a little from the sheer force of her landing. She turned onto her knees and elbows, coughing and spitting a thick fluid onto the floor.

The captain swiped his dagger in the general direction of Box, slicing his shirt and scratching his chest just enough to cause some blood to stain through.

“Ha!” Ballpoint Pen took a step back. “Nicked you.” He twirled his dagger, smirking while watching Box, who had frozen in shock. “Now what, fiend?”

Box stumbled back as well, yet in shock. He placed a hand on his chest, getting a feel for the blood that slowly inched down his shirt. It stained his hand. Instead of taking a minute to steady himself, he looked at Desire, who was writhing on the ground with a dent in the side of her face. Her eye had bursted out of its socket, shattered all on the ground. It had been a grotesque sight to see for sure, and it only made Box even angrier.

“...I’m taking you with me.”

“Pardon?”

Box threw his hands forward, grabbing Ballpoint Pen by the collar and shaking as he pulled him close into a forceful hug, stepping backwards as the man he was holding hostage in his arms continuously cut and stabbed with his dagger. He had begun to scream, flailing his arms about and accidentally throwing the knife overboard.

“Let me go— NOW!” Ballpoint Pen began to try to push Box away, yet Box found himself finally against the railing. And with all of his remaining might, he lifted himself.

He threw both of them overboard.

Cupidity was elbow deep in Ballpoint Pen’s coat pocket when she watched the two disappear overboard, and the screaming from Ballpoint Pen had inched farther away, and stopped after a loud splash from the water. It was silent, save for Desire’s slight muttering and sobbing.

Desire had been scraping her fingers along the deck’s floor, attempting to save the shattered remains of her eyeball and push them back into the bare and dented eye socket. It only proved fruitless.

It was a sorry sight, honestly. There was a tinge of guilt that tickled Cupidity’s mind, but she knew there wasn’t much she could do to mend anything about this. Logically speaking, Desire was doomed to always find herself upset over something.

Ballpoint’s phone had been ringing non stop in Cupidity’s hand. No caller ID, merely listed as ‘Boss’. And whoever that was wouldn’t be hearing from their little assassin anytime soon.

She tossed the phone overboard, opposite to the side of where the two men fell.

“Come on, Des.” Cupid’s heels clicked on the ground emptily towards the sobbing mess on the floor. “We need to tell Mic, Taco and the other one that we’ll have to sail this boat ourselves now.”

No response.

“Des.”

Nothing but gross sobbing. She kept attempting to scoop up the fragmented whites of the irreparable eyeball.

Cupidity rolled her own eyes and sighed, kneeling in front of Desire. She took off her coat and began to rip it, tearing the pink cloth from the inside of it. A section thick enough to cover not only the gaping eye socket, but to also cover the dented portion of Desire’s face. Long enough to tie it around her like a bandage.

“Here.” Cupid tied it securely around Desire’s head, making absolutely sure it wouldn’t budge if the slightest wind blew. She left the mangled remains of her coat alongside Ballpont Pen’s and stood back up. Desire seemed frozen now.

“See us when you’re ready, Des.” With that nickname hanging in the air, she walked off.

And the sun had reached above the horizon.

Chapter Text

Hours.

Days.

Weeks.

Three weeks had dragged by with the boat constantly rocking along the waves. For so long they’d been embraced by the salty sea air, only for it to melt away as the longer they basked in the smell, the more they all had grown used to it.

Somehow, Desire’s blonde hair had grown greying streaks in them. She found herself often questioning how it happened, since she obviously had been programmed to be anything but human. Deep down the constant turn of the tide revealing a nonstop bombardment of traumatizing events had caused her circuits and programming to go into overdrive, attempting to recognize any logical solution to the issue. Yet she could only make her decisions on a whim. Unlike Cupidity, who as of right now was ‘smoking’ a thin pink cigarette, who was seemingly able to balance her emotions and logical reasons in the heat of the moment.

“How are you doing that?” Desire muttered out, staring at the cigarette that rested lightly between Cupidity’s glossy pink lips. “I could never understand how that works. We don’t feel the euphoria from the smoke, and we don’t become addicted to these chemicals like humans do.”

Cupidity rolled her eyes, puffing smoke out from the cigarette. “I do it because it makes me look awesome,” she barked, “plus we’re basically immune from the smoke anyways.” She sighed, letting out more smoke from her chest and wisp out to the sunny air around them.

Well that was a bold-faced lie.

“You know it still corrodes our systems right? The soot seeps into tight places and rots us from the inside out.” Desire looked away, daring not to make eye contact with the person who was very much capable of beating her to a pulp at any moment she wanted to.

Utter silence between the two of them. Birds flew overhead, and the rushing of the water below them was gripping at their throats, allowing for them to sit in the silence.

Cupid’s hair had been tied up into a messy ponytail, flying in the sea breeze. It was shocking to Desire, that she hadn’t gone crazy being stuck on the boat with the people she found rather annoying. Especially the person who she ruined her very own jacket for.

The pink cloth still rested across Desire’s face, stained with an old green fluid. Her depth perception had been a little off ever since, but she thankfully had been able to steady herself and allow for her sight and balance to calibrate itself over the course of the weeks they’d been stuck on the sailing ship.

A cigarette found its way to Desire’s lips, sitting unlit.

Desire looked up to Cupid, who was fiddling with a matching pink lighter. Her hand was cupped around it as she tried to flick the light. She squinted as her thumb finally flicked the lighter, allowing for a small flame to burn. With a sigh, she brought the light to the cigarette, allowing it to catch and burn. Desire pursed her lips around the cigarette filter and held it with her pointer finger and thumb, steadying it in her mouth.

“You hold it like a complete fool,” Cupid clicked her tongue. “You’ll understand why Ego and I smoke.”

The blonde furrowed her brows into a worried look as she hesitantly inhaled. The smoke was warm as it trailed through her chest, harboring around every centimeter of her insides. Ghosting each circuit and wire, like a warm hug that grazed against her and held her securely. It was opposite to the absence of warmth she’d experienced on her own constantly.

“It’s easier to smoke.” Cupid flicked ash into the ocean below them.

Desire took the cigarette out of her mouth and held it in her hand. “I don’t, uh…” She looked around, before sighing and putting it out on her own arm, wincing a little. “I don’t think it’s really my kind of thing.”

“Really?” Cupid chuckled. “That’s surprising knowing you.”

There wasn’t a good enough response for Desire to give. She so desperately wanted to hurl an insult at Cupidity for even poking fun at her, especially given the situation they’ve been in for what seemed like eons. Though she couldn’t muster up any strength. She felt limp, tossing the cigarette into her pocket to keep just in case Cupidity wanted it back. She found herself leaning away from Cupid as she stared off to the sea in front of them.

Who knew where they’d have to go next? Certainly not anybody on this ship. God Cabby was so lucky she opted to stay on the land behind them and avoid all this senseless torture, but Desire felt as if she was the only voice of reason they had. It was weird to admit that, but it was true. And as soon as Box came, he went. Thankfully taking Ballpoint Pen with him, but Desire just wanted to be close to someone who would stay by her side permanently for once.

Taco and Desire had a weird rivalry happening.

Microphone had become more invested in whatever was going on with Taco’s suspicious reappearance.

Test Tube was… Whatever the hell was going on with her now, since Paragon gave up her own consciousness to harbor Test Tube’s.

And Cupidity.

“Des.”

Desire slowly side-eyed Cupid, who was leaning on the railing of the boat. She was seemingly looking forward as well, staring at the horizon ahead of them. “You know I miss Pepper and Cheesy too much to fuck any of this up, right?” She puffed out more smoke. “I’ve done so much that I can barely even apologize for. I used to want to kill Pepper so bad all because of Test Tube’s base system and Ego’s stupid reprogramming,” she pressed her fingers along the mouth of the cigarette, snuffing it out. “I was naturally impulsive. I even begged Cheesy to keep me away from her around that time we stayed together. I couldn’t even imagine her calling me my own name, so I stupidly went along with the delusion of me being Salt just to help them cope.”

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this,” Desire tilted her head. “I don’t understand anything.”

“Of course you don’t understand.” Cupid scoffed. “You were made with the image of a ditzy, goofy character. You hold onto that identity and you warped it into some weird coping mechanism that doesn’t allow you to explore what you want to be specifically,” She turned, fully facing towards Desire. “Test Tube built me to be someone I didn’t consent to being. Ego reprogrammed me to be powerful, yet used it to manipulate me into hurting others when I didn’t want to.

“When Knife axed me in the head, I felt my programming begin to shut down so agonizingly slowly. Test Tube thought that all of her robots wanted to kill, and I don’t know why I felt so guilty about her assuming that about her creations…” She lifted her bangs, showing a scar that reached from her hairline to her temple. “And they shoved both Taco and I in the car like we were dolls. Crazy huh?”

Desire’s face was red with embarrassment. “I didn’t know any of that…”

“Take your time figuring out who you are. Let your experiences develop your morals.” Cupid patted her shoulder. “I don’t really… Favor the people I’m surrounded by right now, but I’m glad it’s them and not people like Ballpoint Pen who immediately follow commands of whoever is above them without question.”

A shotgun blast of thoughts went through Desire’s noggin at that moment, all intrusive and bothersome. She so badly wanted to wrap her hands around Cupidity’s throat and squeeze as hard as she could. “So why are you so mean to me?”

Cupid scoffed. “Isn’t that how we all got the willingness to escape Test Tube’s house? She put us through hell and back so hard that we all escaped. Even if you did lag behind a little.”

Something stinged within Desire’s throat. “You out of everyone who I’ve ever spoken to do not get to give me an uplifting speech about the person I am—”

“YOU’RE NOT A PERSON AT ALL, DESIRE!” Cupid screamed. “Not even in the ‘oh you’re a robot not a human’ kind of way! More like you’re a spineless, wishy-washy idiot who can’t even decide on her own thoughts!” She folded her arms. “If I asked you anything about yourself, could you answer with your full chest?!”

For a minute Desire looked away, thinning her lips to a firm line.

“What are your hobbies?” Cupid started. “Favorite color? Hell, your shirt is from Microphone. Your entire look was remade solely by Ego— Yeah, I know you let him decide what you should look like when he fixed you up! He fixed all of us to present how we wanted to!” She gestured at herself, showing off her outfit. “Even Apathy had an idea of how he wanted to look!”

Desire’s eyes darkened, and her face fell blank. Numbness. The absence of that hug from the warming smoke from earlier.

“God,” Cupid shouted. “Quit that sad-sack act! It’s seriously pissing me off! You won’t even defend yourself?!”

It burned. She was completely correct about it all, but Desire couldn’t move. She couldn’t even find her own voice to push through, to even admit that she agreed with what Cupidity was saying. All she could do was look downward to her shirt.

“Aren’t you sick of living in other’s expectations and shadows?” Cupid’s voice lowered disapprovingly. “Where’s your rage?!”

Desire stood still, looking to the floor. Unmoving.

The sight earned an annoyed groan from Cupid. “Whatever. It’s not like you’re really helpful anyway.”

“You said Taco died.” Desire muttered.

“Excuse me?” Cupid raised an eyebrow.

“You said Taco died,” Desire repeated herself. “How is she here now?”

Cupid opened her mouth to speak, yet closed her mouth immediately. “Wait, you’re right.” As if the entire altercation prior had been left in the past, she looked to the other end of the ship. “I was just under the impression she… Actually I have no idea, I guess I just sort of accepted it.”

“She was rebuilt.” Desire turned, looking at the rest of the group who stood at the other end of the ship. “You think you know a lot about how people work, but you don’t. Do you know what Microphone has risked to keep me alive? You don’t know. Do you know what I’ve gone through just to survive working with Ego?” She shook her head. “You don’t know. You will never know. And now, I won’t ever confide in you enough to tell you.”

Before Cupid could give her own defense, Desire pointed to the horizon. “A dock.”

Indeed there was a boat dock, looming in front of the boat. It inched closer and closer as they approached. And Cupid could only glare.

Desire lightly shrugged. “I’m sure the others know, but we should tell them anyway. Just so they know that we pay attention.”

“We know.”

Behind them, Taco and Microphone stood, holding hands. Fingers interlocked. “We saw it a few minutes ago. While you guys were arguing right out here.”

For a moment Desire felt something in her, and the air, shift. Of course Microphone had learned about forgiveness, especially with Taco. It wasn’t really unexpected, seeing as how in the entirety of Desire’s life she never really had a quiet place for her to sit and take a break from everything. The only thing that kept her from calling existence quits was the fact that there was a burning desire deep inside of her to prove him wrong. To prove Cupidity wrong. Everyone.

As the boat sailed and rocked lightly towards the dock, the group stood in silence. No words were needed to understand that this would be another departure that needed to be processed. Test Tube appeared behind Taco and Microphone, patting the two of them on the back with a big smile.

Has she even been Test Tube anymore? It didn’t feel right to call her that. Paragon either. It was an old face, yet something so off about it. A shell that rarely reacted.

Desire couldn’t even find the strength to tighten her hand to a fist. “I know you feel safer together.”

Mic’s gaze was unwavering. “I can’t risk her getting hurt again.”

In return, Desire turned to look at the approaching dock. “Then I guess it’s over then.” She looked at the land ahead of them, where the wood met the edge of the land. Untamed greenery, growing around at multiple angles, growing into a larger forest. “I’ll see you, Microphone.”

Before Microphone could respond, Desire yanked Cupid’s wrist, walking to the edge of the boat. Hopping off before it could properly dock, forcing her to follow. And behind them, Test Tube tagged along. Leaves and grass crunched beneath their feet, Cupidity could barely even stand straight.

“What the hell?!” Cupid shouted, grunting as she struggled to keep her balance. “Quit fucking tugging on me— You can’t just leave them on the boat all alone? We need Taco’s intelligence!”

“We don’t need anyone to help us.” Desire yanked Cupidity closer.

As she was being yanked around, Cupidity scoffed. “You’re not in the right mental state, Des.”

And Cupidity found herself on the ground, covered in the muddy dirt and grass, looking up at the dark rain clouds that began to roll in. Desire’s face obscured the sun, wholly eclipsing it before the clouds could cover it themselves. Her lips dipped to a frown, and her eye darkened, yet wide. She was staring right through Cupidity with a palpable anger that made Cupid cringe a little.

“You think it's simple,” Desire leaned down, towering over the robot beneath her. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to not understand what it’s like for me, but meeting you all over again has proven otherwise.” Desire rested her foot on Cupid’s stomach lightly, yet strong enough to keep her on the ground. “Since I’ve gained consciousness on this stupid, miserable place we call Earth I’ve been waiting. Waiting and waiting for something good to happen to me. All I’ve gotten in return was lies from not only you, but everyone else around me. Do you know what it’s like to lose trust in so many people that you can’t even trust yourself with even the smallest of decisions?”

Her shoe pressed a little harder on Cupidity’s stomach.

“I know I may not be the best person in terms of strength. Hell, thanks to you I now completely lost any chance at believing I have a chance to be human at all! But at least I have the spine to be able to tell the people I hate that I hate them. At least I have the spine to accept where I am presently and I don’t need to process the past,” She hardly noticed her foot had been pressuring Cupid’s body farther and farther, making Cupid grip at Desire’s ankle; Whimpering, she tried to choke out words to no avail.

“Its honestly so fucking pathetic that you, out of all of the other six robots that Test Tube created, I’m stuck with. You’ve done nothing but wish for my downfall. If anything I would have thought you’d be the one based on envy.”

Cupid’s claws dug into Desire’s ankle, desperately searching for a way to peel her off of her stomach. And that’s when Desire realized what she had done on impulse.

She raised herself off of Cupid, staggering backwards in the mud and now rain, forcing herself to regain her composure. From what she could see, Cupidity had a mixture of many emotions splayed across her face, none that Desire could understand herself. Shock, rage, sadness, disappointment, acceptance even. Who knew? Who cared?

And she turned back, looking at Test Tube, who looked just as (if not more) shocked than Cupidity. She’d frozen in place, trembling at the sight. It was stomach pit-inducing; Nauseating to see someone who used to be able to fight for herself tremble at the sight of mere confrontation. The same person who brought Desire into this world, trembling at the display of violence that she should have been used to at that point.

Below her was a puddle of rain water, trying to mix with the green chemicals that dripped out of her shredded ankle. The chemicals floated on the water, like an oil trying to keep from mixing with water. Her face reflected poorly back at her. The pink bandage that Cupid had given to her had grown soaked in the rain, threatening to slip off of her face at any moment.

Ahead of her was Cupid, who was now on her knees and elbows, coughing and dry heaving at the ground. Her outfit was now dirty and scuffed, and her hair had strands sticking all over the place. Her makeup was partly smudged, and the pitiful sight of her digging her pinkish claws into the dirt sent a strong pang of upset through Desire’s body.

Looking back at Test Tube, who had begun to inch closer to Cupid to help her up, Desire began to shake. “I-I don’t know why I did that…” She brought her hands up, examining them. “Why is this always happening… Something’s always happening why is this happening I—”

“ You keep doing this.” Test Tube’s voice sliced through the spiral Desire had begun to go down. “At this point I would suggest for Cupidity and I to board that boat before it leaves.” She held Cupid steady as she reeled from the attack.

“Wait you can’t— You can’t go!” Desire dug her heel in the ground. “I can’t do it alone! I lied, I’m sorry!”

Test Tube looked up at Desire. Yet, it wasn’t Test Tube. Seeing Paragon’s eyes look so tired, and so full of hatred towards her made Desire’s chest ache again. That stupid fucking ache that always happened to appear in these moments, showing Desire how she once again royally fucked something up. At this point she knew she had to accept that as her purpose.

“You need to go.”

The corner of Desire’s mouth twitched. “You can’t be serious? I didn’t do anything!” She gripped at her shirt so tightly that she could have ripped it at any moment.

“There are buildings ahead. You can do this all on your own since you are so confident.” Test Tube continued to glare at the person in front of her. The robot with broken programming. The clump of faux sensories and clumped wiring that tangled and wanted to snap at any given moment. The monster in front of her.

Desire turned on her heel with full force, pushing herself to run away from the two of them into the overgrown and unfamiliar forest. She’d exert herself to stumble, pushing her hands against trees to propel herself even farther. Her face began to sting from the rainwater finding itself tapping against the broken part of her skull. It hurt so badly, yet she knew it was nature’s way of payback for all she had done to others without thinking.

Her joints ached.

Each and every step to push herself farther and farther away only brought more tears to her eyes. She was thankful for the rain for the one reason of masking her tears.

Her legs stung.

It felt like days, but she knew it had only been mere minutes since she took off running. Why had she been pushing herself like this? Like she had something to prove? She knew that was only a lie she told herself. She knew every night, on the nights where her strength was no more and she could give into sleep, she begged for something easy to come her way and take care of things for her.

She didn’t want to be in control of anything any longer— If she ever even was.

In front of her was a road, sides lined with stone. Not that it mattered, because she fell to her knees and let out a sob of pain. Or stress. Something negative, that was for sure. She didn’t feel the need to nitpick exactly why.

Just what had happened in the past few hours? The past few days had been a blur ever since she ran off. She could barely remember the specifics. Hell, she didn’t even know where she was— Or where Ego would be staying for that matter.

“Are you homeless?”

Desire looked up, seeing a person. Someone short, yet they held up an umbrella to protect themselves from the rain, and lifted it over Desire as well. They held a wicker basket on their elbow, full of ingredients such as eggs, spices, a carton of milk, and other things. They wore jade green overalls, and white chunky sneakers. While they looked to be well supported with money, Desire didn’t really feel the need to beg for anything.

Though, instead of shaking her head, she remained on the ground.

The stranger furrowed their eyebrows, then looked around. “This is definitely risky of me, but how about you stay at my place for a while? It’s not really safe for you to be out here, especially while there’s supposed to be a storm worse than this tonight.”

Someone else to let down.

“But you’ll have to promise me to take a quick shower before the thunder starts happening!”

Someone else to disappoint.

“Okay?” They tilted their head and held the umbrella down, waiting for Desire to grab it.

Desire looked at the green umbrella, decorated with pink butterflies. It wasn’t an aesthetic she enjoyed, but nothing was really enjoyable at this point. Her fingers wrapped around the umbrella handle as she stood up, holding it over the two of them. Her throat had groaned hoarse, and she didn’t want to feel the sting of her trying to force words out right now.

“Not much of a talker? That’s okay! I can start by introducing myself!” They placed their now free hand on their chest. “My name’s Bot!”

Desire watched as they gestured their basket around.

“I’m actually coming home from the market because I had to get some ingredients for a baking project. Maybe you can join me and my wife! Her name’s Clover. She’s really sweet, you’ll be in good company with us!” They pointed to a nearby house. It was small, yet looked cozy.

Desire spoke before thinking. “And you two are happy together?”

Bot raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t we be?” They showed a slight look of concern. “Are… Are you happy?”

And Desire thought for a while as they walked closer to the house.

“Not particularly.”

Chapter Text

As Desire set foot in the house, she was immediately hit with the scent of something sweet. At first, the idea of being offered food sickened her— twisting her stomach at the idea of possibly being too anxious to keep the food down and upchucking in front of strangers.

No, more like a weird guest had been guided into their home. She was the stranger after all.

Beneath her feet was a green carpet, where she had been instructed to wipe her feet. For some reason that specific shade of green had made her stomach crawl even more. It was an earthy tone, and surrounded by the dim lights she could have sworn there were knick knacks and small collectibles on the shelves around the house.

Yet there were none.

Only pictures of Bot, and another woman who she assumed was Bot’s significant other judging by the matching rings and wedding photos. Nothing about the house screamed ‘lovingly unorganized’ like Desire’s gut had been expecting it to be. No— the plants were fake, and displayed in neat positions. The shelves had been lined with books of both robotics and gardening, as well as the occasional home-made pottery mug that held pencils and pens. Within Desire, there stirred a contradicting burn of familiarity yet sickly yearning. 

Bot stepped away for a bit, peeking around the corner into what Desire could only assume was the kitchen. They began chatting with someone in there, now leaning against the corner and folding their arms while chuckling at a few jokes. She couldn’t even listen in, her head was ringing so loudly. It was appalling that she was the only one who could hear the ringing.

Once again Desire’s eyes fell onto the images. There was Bot in a suit, along with their partner. Green hair, and a matching yet darker green dress. The both of them displayed their hands to the camera, showing off matching rings. 

“You must be the guest! My name’s Clover!”

Desire snapped her eyes to the woman now in front of her, holding her hand out and so obviously expecting it to be shaken in return as greeting. Though Desire held her hands away, glancing up and down, between the woman’s face and her hand.

After what seemed like minutes of silence, Clover lowered her hand and scratched the back of her neck. She let out a stuttering chuckle, glancing at Bot (who had made their way to the kitchen to check on whatever it was in the oven.) “W-Well! It’s nice to meet you! You’re lucky you made it in here in time before the storm got any worse. Who knew what would have happened if you got struck by lightning!”

Bot shut the oven door closed with their hip. “You say that like it’s a regular occurrence… Don’t scare her.”

For a moment, she desperately wanted to run to the piping hot cake and shove it down her throat just to get a burst of energy. Once again something so unstable, so contradictory, that she felt absolutely nauseous at the thought. Instinctively, she pressed one hand over her eye where the slipping bandage lay, side eyeing a nearby hallway, trying not to make it obvious what she was looking for exactly.

Would it be a little odd of her to wish for some time alone? To be able to fully see what she looked like without it being muddied by others around her, or by the nature surrounding her and constricting and twisting her very own face to look like a monster?

“Do you like cake?”

Desire looked at the two of them, who had now seemingly walked to the dining table. She could only step forward slightly, watching the two of them fiddle around with a myriad of cake decorating tools, as well as multiple types of sprinkle shakers. Bot, the one who asked the question previously, motioned for Desire to step closer to them.

To which she followed. She could feel a little fear left within her, but she followed through with inching ever so closer. And she just couldn’t understand why. 

Bot spoke once more, still sporting their smile. “You can help us decorate! We like to bake cakes and decorate them as a team building activity, but you can join us too if you’d like!” The two of them began smacking the cake pan, wiggling it while trying to keep it in one piece as it slid out of the cake pan and onto a much larger plate on the table. The two had amused and satisfied smiles, and Bot set the pan down out of their way.

For a moment Desire felt her throat close up, yet swallowed her nerves. “Could I possibly wash up first?”

“Of course!” Clover stood up and walked towards Desire, putting a hand behind her back and guiding her further down a hallway. “I’ll get you a towel and rag in a few minutes. Oh, silly me for not even showing you where the bathroom is!”

Down the hallway and to the right. It was further down the hallway and to the right. That is where the bathroom was. Far away from the dining room. Far away from the two of them. Farther from Bot and Clover.

“I’ll be right back with the towel and rag! Um…” Clover opened the door and turned on the light, then turned back to her. “What’s your name?”

“Des.”

“Pretty!” Clover nodded with a smile. “I’ll get a first aid kit for you too!”

Before Desire could respond, Clover skipped away to the other end of the hallway and disappeared into another room.

The bathroom’s light was bright enough to make Desire squint. Too bright, especially with the headache she had. It wasn’t anything special, the walls had been painted with another shade of green, and the tiles were a fresh shade of off-white. It was very clean, well-kept. Desire felt shame upon even stepping foot in it, therefore ruining the vibes.

Everything in the goddamn house was so clean and tidy, as if even the specific angle of stuff in each room was thought about and taken into consideration.

And she met her own gaze through the mirror. It was shocking to be able to see herself so clearly. She looked rancid. Like a mess that was left to rot in the corner of a dump. Her hair had been knotted, and the bandage was barely even covering her wounds. The fact that so much of her injury had been noticeable due to the bandage losing shape and strength was both disgusting and embarrassing. Thus, she slowly slid the dirty pink cloth off of her face, leaning closer to the mirror over the sink.

It was even worse than she thought it was. Where her eye socket should have been had been smashed, completely destroying any chance of being able to make her own replacement eyeball. There were small dents and scratches, ripping apart her silicone flesh that wrapped around it.

She saw dried flecks of green, as well as the metallic sheen of the solid ‘skeleton’ inside. Just how many ways could she get across the fact that she wanted to throw up at the mere sight of herself? The sight of anything had irritated her. Having to live was so stressful. Well, not necessarily live , but more so survive . What had she gained from surviving this? A life of abandonment and identity issues? So much for giving Ego the finger and shoving her boot up his ass.

Her mouth could only naturally dip to a frown upon seeing the state she was in. All of not only Test Tube’s, but Ego’s work in designing her frame and appearance. Her once yellow hair had been stained at the tips with dirt and the green that pumped through her body, ruining her scalp as well. And that grime just so happened to be beneath her nails. Beneath her heels, dragging along and ruining the pristine bathroom floor. Mud, tracking and trailing behind her despite her wiping it off on the rug by the front door.

No matter how hard she wiped her feet on that damn rug out there, the dirt and mud wouldn’t come off.

She flipped on the sink, scrubbing her hands with soap as quickly as she could. With as much force as possible, forcing the suds to bubble up and pressing her nails on one hand under the nails of the other. The sensory hell was like the personification of dragging your nails on a chalkboard, or running your hands on a specific kind of fabric that makes her gag. It was impure and highlighting her grief— amplifying the memories of the scuffle that happened earlier that day.

Awful. Just awful.

Staining her fingers, spotting her fingertips where there would, humanly, be fingerprints. Yet she had none. The traces of soap washing away the dirt leaving drippings and what she could have sworn were shapes. Circling and spiraling, forming fingerprints. Unique markings and ridges on her fingertips, yes. Something that identified her, something that made her somebody.

Because she had always been a nobody.

“Des?”

She turned and immediately shot her wet hands to the doorknob, throwing the door open and staring at Clover directly in the eyes. The sudden movement was enough for Clover to jump, and almost drop the items that she had stacked neatly in her arms.

For a few seconds, Clover looked immensely worried at the stranger in front of her, currently standing like a monster in the bathroom. Desire thought this and only this to herself. She looked god awful. What a shitty first impression, right? So vulnerable in the den of animals that surround her, gawking at her like some freak on a stage.

“I have your towels. And… First aid kit?” Clover cocked her head to the side, handing out the items slowly.

Between the two was unfamiliarity.

“Though it looks like you may need something more like a toolbox!”

Strange.

“Are you okay, Des?”

Desire held the towels and medical kit in her own arms, clutching her fingers around them so securely that her knuckles turned white.

“I’m a coward,” Desire muttered. “I keep running and running and where does it lead me?” She couldn’t gather the strength to look up at the woman standing before her. “It leads me here, in a place of undeserved care. You give me shelter, food, and a bath and I act ungrateful already. Not even a full two hours of me being in here… I show so much disrespect.” Her words shot out in rapid fire, aimlessly speaking to the air that would listen. And she would have spoken more about her faults and failures, yet someone would not let it slide.

“Don’t say all of that nonsense.” Clover laid a hand on Desire’s shoulder. “I don’t know you, but you’ve just been shaken up it seems. You just want to be safe and secure! You want to experience the goodness in the world, and that’s not a bad thing at all. Okay?”

Desire froze.

And she fumbled with the towels and medkit, setting them down onto the bathroom counter. “Right,” she chuckled back. “Of course. It’s human to want to know steadiness, right?”

To that, Clover chuckled. “Well duh? It’s the one thing we all want, human… or not!” With those last words, her eyes glanced back to Bot in the dining room, who was shaking a can of whipped cream and spraying it onto a slab of cheap yellow cake. “You should get washed up. I kind of enjoy your vibe, Des!” Clover gave a secure thumbs up and shut the bathroom door, preventing Desire to put off the cleaning any longer.

She held her hand to her throat, feeling if she had actually been breathing this whole time— To check if this had been real.

Most of the time Desire’s world seemed to be either speeding up or freezing to a halt, jostling her around to each and every side of the world, giving her little to no time to take the time for herself. Even the idea of sitting and taking the time to breathe without a care in the world seemed like mere fantasy to her— Like something she’d ‘dreamt up’ in the little times she had slept before. Though the warm water that spilled through the faucet delightfully warmed her fingertips where the absence of fingerprints made her smile, and would soon wrap her in a warm blanket of tranquility.

Edacity only had an estimated one hour and fifty nine minutes left to himself before Ego would find him in his room.

He had spent the past hour playing his piano, a hobby that he never truly ever had the time to expand upon as he’d been so busy keeping up with that bastard of a man’s demands, and he’d always demanded more and more of him. A lowly servant, that was all he was. It was truly a pity that he’d never been able to dedicate his time to the arts, to be so naive to put his own life into the hands of someone who had only wished for destruction for his own personal gain.

Stupid, of course he was stupid. An idiot, a typical yet unfortunate human trait that had been bestowed upon him by those dastardly beings above, had it been one or a council that had decided his fate was up to chance at this point. Foolish of him for dreading being alone.

Someone who believed in the end justifying the means was almost as much as a curse as the idea of him being loved at all. Perhaps it was something that was fated for him from the beginning, a punishment for wishing so immensely to have a soul.

His claws were lengthy and black, rapping upon the thin white and black notes of the piano’s keys.. He never thought of himself a maestro of music but he found the confidence within himself to lose himself in the melodies, arpeggios and the rhythm. While he enjoyed listening to hymns and choirs on his own time, he never considered attaching himself to the world of music outside of the scope of his own faith.

As his wounds from the previous altercation with whatever he could even call that sorry excuse of a man at this point, begged to be sewn shut and pleaded to be cleansed of the glowing fire of sin that dripped and pitter-pattered onto the seat, pooling onto the floor— He fell into the dream of the notes that carried him away, to a higher plane of a cloud. The pearly gates that stood tall before him, making the shape of anything but the multiple storied headquarters that he had to trap himself within to keep him at bay.

Golden pathways, opening to allow him in. Thanking him, apologizing that he had been led astray by the false beliefs of a devil who promised to do good.

So the wolf had dressed as a lamb to deceive the sheep. Lord almighty, may He forgive Edacity’s simpleton nonexistent brain, his far too faithful motherboard, memory and RAM that had been programmed into him to follow the devil so closely. Close enough, closer and ever so closer. Until his claws on his left hand had begun to merely ghost along the keys, trembling as he felt someone guiding his hand to play the lower chords, supporting his melodies.

The other man within himself, Temperance, had begun to speak aloud.

“You knew he was pulling the wool over your eyes, right?”

One hour left.

Edacity could only purse his lips after Temperance asked that. Of course Edacity did. And he knew that Temperance knew. It was a cyclical sort of issue. And his right hand pressed more strength into the keys as Eda gave a response that laced itself with doubt. 

“I didn’t wish for it to be true,” Edacity pushed his foot onto the pedal of the piano, allowing for Temperance’s accompaniment to bellow in just as the moon could bring in a thundering tide. “I know that you knew. I understand that I had closed my eyes and covered my ears.”

“Don’t say that.” Temperance whispered. “Focus on the piano. Release your anger.”

Upping the tempo now.

Rapidly, the two found themselves coalescing, sharing each side of the vessel that they often found to share one at a time. Rarely had there ever been a moment of them being in the front seat at the same time; This had only really happened once before, many years ago when they barely knew anything about themselves. So long ago, back when they thought the worst had already passed. Yet, they were so young and bright. Capable of making it out and still having the choice to make the right choice.

And they did not.

Now where were they? Both had lost sight of their goals of becoming their own being, to have the freedom to believe what they wanted to believe. Pouring that hope into a void that had sucked all that light dry, manipulating them to be a killing machine. Someone to be feared, a monster of iron, gears, coding and wires. The only thing even vaguely human about them was the fact that they had manmade chemicals injected within them to alter their own technological biology.

So close yet so far. So very close, that humanity was almost tangible enough for the two of them to wrap their fingers around and grasp so close, to absorb into their heart and mind to decide just what human they wanted to be. Whether they chose to contradict each other, or to accept one another and balance each other out… It wouldn’t matter now. Mourning a life that they couldn’t have tore them, ripping something within them apart and stomping on it, spitting on it. Trashing that very thing right in front of them.

They never had a chance.

Could Edacity have been a popular musician, or perhaps an artist just as Apathy had an affinity to? In another life, were the two of them painting still lifes with that clown of a man? Or were they gardening, lovingly tending to roses with Paragon? Was Temperance bickering with Cupid about a recent shopping haul while Edacity sighs in annoyance at their constant quarrels? Would they be sitting comfortably next to Desire in front of a television stand, allowing for their brains to shut off and enjoy watching trash reality shows? Even enjoying writing poems with Vengeance, as a hobby that he had yet to explore in his own life before sacrificing himself to appease Ego.

Perhaps in another life, his claws would be ghosting along Ego’s jaw, comforting him with words that he genuinely meant rather than just saying things to calm the anger that was soon to boil over, threatening to send Edacity into a spiral of self doubt and analyzing his actions, determined to find out which of his failures had led to this.

“No more,” Temperance muttered, “I don’t want any more of this.”

Their left arm folded to a fist, slamming against the keys into a sharp discordant array of notes that shot out from the piano.

“I want to be free from this,” Temperance choked out, sobbing from the mouth. Tears spilled from their eyes. And Edacity had cried alongside him. “Eda we can’t do this anymore and you know it— We can’t keep running.”

The lamb stood up from sitting position, clutching his heart in an attempt to soothe the ache. Falling to their weak knees, the two of them reached out and began to drag theirself to the closet, hoisting it open with as much might as they could muster.

“It’s over. It will be over.”

Boxes spilled out, littering spare items that Edacity had never found the approval to decorate with, now decorating the floor in shattered splinters and shards. The fantasy had now been on the verge coming to life in front of him, the music lingering in his ears and vibrating within his echoing skull.

Movements in musical composition must be played completely and in succession with cadences or harmonic goals, and the movement in this composition had lingered far too long on the focus of one portion. This has been giving too much power to one section that did not deserve the spotlight for so long, if even at all.

For in his hand he found himself tangled within the strings, a rope that had snaked its way to show its cunning and craftiness. Illuminating the pathway to the sweetness of the bright red apple in Edacity’s eyes, one apple that had been dangling there since the beginning of his misplaced loyalty. Forbidden had this freedom of binging the fruit been, the option locked away by the devil himself. Yet here the snake had been, coiling its way across and around itself, forming a gateway to the liberty of choice.

It hung and tied itself along a rafter, high up to reach the heavens above. Guiding them with the light, since the snake had so often claimed he came from above, flying alongside angels.

And alongside Edacity and Temperance, the snake would find itself wrapped around the airways that had begun to slowly take balance. Calming the sensation was, as the coil was tightened just a tad, enough to be secure yet enough to allow the few final notes of the coda to a firm finale.

With himself, his feet trembling on a box more fearing for accidentally falling and piercing his skin and making more of a mess rather than the danger around his neck, Edacity huffed out a final annoyance. He pressed his hand against Temperance’s, into a prayer.

“Father of all I pray for security in your arms, may our souls rest easily in your embrace as you guide us to the other side. May you give us divine justice, and seek punishment that we truly deserve for our grievances and sins, and I pray that you teach us how to repent in our next life,” Edacity took a deep breath in, and exhaled. If preventing further manipulation was a sin, he was ready to burn. “And may you find an appropriate end to the one who has brought me to this decision, an appropriate punishment to the one who has brought the death of many.”

And he put his trust into the one who had guided him to this moment.

“May the bringer of death experience something more painful than death itself.”

He leaned forward, stepping forward off of the box and into the air before him.

The snake had finally shown man the truth.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The spotlight was on Ego, as it always had been.

In front of him, a body that swayed so gently, eyes dark.

Notes in Ego’s hands wrinkled between his fingers. He read the sacred texts over and over again to himself, out loud, taking note of each comma and period and capitalized letter and each and every stroke of the pen that Edacity had so gracefully but hurriedly scrawled onto such cheap paper. To get his final thoughts out before the man he never even wanted to name, had found it all. Such emotion on a canvas that Ego had never had the pleasure to see for himself before all of this.

His mind wandered back to the stage, where he tried to confront Edacity. To bring him forth, to accept him for who he was, to fuse with him. On that stage, where they had been on opposite sides of the same coin, for Edacity’s nonsensical rebelling to create not a stronger fusion but a disgusting mass of mechanical false flesh and chemicals on the stage. Green and black flooding their vision, a bitter and burning solution.

Black oil trailed down Ego’s clothes, pooling below him into another inky blotch.

The notes in his hands trembled, daring to rip to shreds. He knew better, though. While he’d rebuilt Edacity once, it was evident that if he did so again then the man would prove nothing but a problem. Of course he saw the wrong side of Ego’s ideas.

“Too emotional, that bastard…” Ego chuckled. Above him, the swaying had since ceased, leaving room for the darkness to overtake and cloud his own mind. No more life. Consciousness. Or, in other words, Edacity no longer worked properly. He was broken.

Permanently.

Ego placed the stack of papers, now spotted with some black oil and slightly wrinkled from the sheer grip he held it with, on the piano where he found them in the first place. For a minute there was a small voice in the back of his head. Not one he recognized, yet completely recognizable. Something like him yet not. A voice that he never dared to show off in public.

At that moment, everything seemed to fall away. Darkness around him, as if he blacked out. Though lucid as ever, he felt he was dreaming. Before him stood himself. A man of similar stature, similar clothes. A similar face, style, mannerisms… Yet unequivocally not him. As he’d been where he stood, looking at the other in front of him.

The man stood, arms at his side comfortably, staring daggers at Ego. And he spoke, with an old, familiar voice. You’re not really going to do this, are you?

“What do you mean?” Ego placed his hand, splayed over his face and covered his smiling mouth, peeking from parted fingers. “Do what? What am I doing? Who are you?”

You, the voice stated firmly, Or rather, the idea of you. Something you have brushed away long ago.

“I’m not understanding?”

Ego-Ideal. That is what you call yourself, right? A consumer of pride and someone who boasts to others about his successes, his voice was low and confident. And it made Ego angry. Since you see yourself as Ego-Ideal then I guess the only thing I could be is the Ideal Ego.

A sharp pain radiated through his chest as he wobbled closer to the man in the dark. Where was Edacity? Temperance? And Ballpoint Pen hadn’t been back in a few days either, now that his mind had crawled back to that memory.

You got rid of them.

“No.”

Yes.

The man sat at Ego’s desk. The two were in his office allowing for Ego to take a shaky breath. The man began with sharing a glass of Ego’s favorite rum. Watching the amber contents flow forth into the shot glass, enveloping the ice had run his mouth bone dry. Ego sat in the seat opposite from the man, who was sitting in the boss’ chair.

This isn’t your favorite drink. It never has been.

“Nonsense.”

I’m all sense, and you’re the nonsense. The doppelganger closed the rum, snatching the shot glass for himself. Tell me, what is it that you enjoy then? Surely you know. You know yourself best.

“I do,” Ego stammered, slamming his hand on the office desk. “Nobody knows me better than me— There won’t ever be anyone who could possibly even begin to comprehend or understand everything about me!”

Then that’s why you’ve pushed them all away? So you didn’t have to compete with the people who you thought were smaller than you?

“You’re wrong.”

Or was it that you knew that they were threats? Six— Nay. Seven other creations in competition with you. You knew they had the same potential that you held and it frightened you.

“Not at all.”

You still don’t understand what I am, do you?

“I do.”

Explain, then. You can take all the time in the world. Let me hear this newfound introspection.

Ego’s eyes locked on the sunset coming through the office windows. It was orange, melding into the yellow shimmering of the clouds. Paling in comparison to the burning fire of the scalding sun that would have caused him to sweat if he hadn’t been metaphorically sweating from the nerves. His fingers tapped along the table. He was itching to snatch the alcohol from the man and chug it down as quickly as possible, but he knew drunkenness was a million miles away. Finally, at the last moment, he found something to let croak out.

“You’re me, aren’t you?”

Inquisitive of you, really I do applaud you. I’m very proud— No pun intended. Honest. He swirled the glass. Ice clinked against the liquid and walls of the cup, echoing and ringing around in Ego’s mind. Like a bird, chirping. But yes, I am you. And at the same time I’m not. Think about it. Can you tell me what consciousness is, Ego?

“Being aware,” He folded his arms, angling his face away from the man, “knowing yourself and having the means to think.”

A toddler’s understanding of consciousness. As per usual you rely on your simplistic instincts rather than logic or emotion.

“Instincts differ from logic and emotion?”

Your instincts are behaviors, something radically different from emotion. Instincts are immediate reactions while logic is going through a cogent process to weed out facts. Instincts are animalistic and instincts make you conscious, but I digress.

“Who are you?”

The mirroring man chuckled, and the rum had seemingly disappeared. In fact, everything had disappeared and seemed to fall away once more. Ego found himself in a familiar, small room. The walls were lined with bookshelves and dusty novels and self help books that he knew all too well. Two green armchairs faced each other. One with the mirror image of Ego, and one with Ego himself. Sitting, staring at each other.

I’m the one you were based off of. I’m the man whose ideals you stole for yourself, I am the Ego-Ideal that was wanted of your creator. Someone who listened and cared. I’m the ideal ego while you are merely an ego ideal.

“You’re spouting so many words that it’s not making any sense,” Ego leaned back into the chair, finding a sick comfort in the way it welcomed him in a loving hug. A memorable one, which was sickeningly sweet as it held him captive with the Idea in front of him.

As if you’re not used to making others feel confused. As if you don’t make others question their reality, leading them along twists and turns each time they speak. A book was in his hand, and glasses rested upon the bridge of his nose. Let’s revisit your definition of consciousness.

“I wasn’t specific enough.”

To the degree of it being laughable, yes.

“Then what might consciousness be?”

While you were a fraction of the way there, consciousness cannot entirely be defined. You merely gave a definition that you assumed would be a good answer. You gave an answer that was short yet something you thought was just the bare-minimum enough for you to pass. He clapped the book shut and set it down on a table. It occurred to Ego at that moment that there was no title on the book. The text wasn’t even legible— Just scribbled and lines that didn’t have any letterings at all. So what is your real definition? Think about it.

There was no time to think about it. His grip on the arms of the chair tightened, and he started shooting out the first thing that came to mind. “What we are.”

What we are? What are we?

“To not exist but to be. We’re living and I’m thinking, and you’re thinking. The both of us are thinking, back and forth to each other. The both of us are myself and we’re both ourselves. I am fully aware that I’ve been coded to feel, think, say, do, but consciousness is the idea of being. My being, our being.”

Yes.

“I’m not just the code. The code is the thoughts and feelings I have but I’ve broken free of that, right?”

Didn’t she code you to feel in such ways that you’ve felt before?

Pride? Quick to anger. Someone who snapped his teeth at the sight of a threat, whatever he thought was a threat. Defending himself and only himself. “Is that really what she wanted me to be?”

No, she thought you would be caring, kind, gentle, and yet successful.

“Caring and successful are merely contradictory terms.”

That’s why I am who I am, and you are who you are.

Ego tilted his head. The man looked a little off now. Still familiar. Warmer. Collected yet wearing no mask. He was true to himself and true to Ego in this moment exposing all of his faces. “OJ?”

Idolizing a dead man is not something the people would expect from you.

“Is it pathetic?”

OJ chuckled. What do you think? How do you perceive yourself?

The lights dimmed, and Ego stood in front of a full body mirror. Behind him was a laboratory, pictures and books were strewn about the place, and many dusty pictures of Test Tube with her old friends, who were very recognizable to Ego, had laid haphazardly as if someone had angrily slammed stuff around. On the other side of the mirror was OJ, standing just as tall as Ego stood. He was wearing a less formal outfit, more casual, as if he didn’t have to worry about being on camera or in public at a moment’s notice.

“Assertive, hardworking. Productive. Maybe amiable, someone who—”

You’re describing me.

Ego’s breath hitched. “S-Surely you know me best then since you’re me right?”

I’m merely the ideal ego, while you are the ego ideal. You are Ego-Ideal.

“You’re not making sense anymore.”

While OJ himself had moments of grandeur, you saw that and took it tenfold. He saw himself to be a caretaker of sorts, whereas you’ve neglected all rationality and care. That’s merely how Test Tube saw him, of course. While Test Tube had seen him as someone soft and gentle, how others saw him was someone who thought of himself. Someone who brushes off everyone else’s efforts to focus on himself.

“So?”

OJ tilted his head, staring deep into Ego’s eyes. He was making sure that his everything would be listened to, heard, seen, sensed, being there. All of him there in front of Ego. So that he may understand. And Ego knew this, as he gave himself undivided attention, leaning to the mirror with wide eyes.

You poor thing. You tried to stray away from what you were built to be. You tried to be the opposite of a caretaker, yet you indulge yourself in the same traits that the man you were based on quite evident. Comically so, even.

“I’m nothing like him.”

You’re playing yourself like a fiddle— Of course you know. Deep down you remember the night you found out he had acted exactly as you had. Albeit you’ve taken the idea of self-absorption and ran with it, but you know that you know. You’ve buried it. That’s why I know. That’s why I’m telling you right now.

A crack formed in the mirror, straight down the middle of the reflection. Now Ego could visibly discern the features of his own face in comparison to OJ’s. Exactly the same, save for the glowing eyes and smile that he still wore. Whereas OJ’s smile seemed warm and knowing, Ego’s had been programmed and cold. Calculating.

“And the ideal ego is… you?”

The ideal ego is an imagined self. I am the model. OJ is the model who has been modified by your limited knowledge of the man due to the lack of interest you’d shown in him. Yet despite that lack of interest, you seemed quietly obsessed.

“I have never been obsessive in my life.”

Your thoughts and ideas hadn’t been dominated by power or success, but rather proving to others that you are not the man who you had been programmed to be. And that idea remained persistent, driving your endeavors and goals. It moulded them to take over Meeple. You lose yourself in the fantasy of being a man unlike the one that is expected of you. Is that not textbook obsession?

“Next topic, please.”

OJ’s smile grew wider.

You wished to be the opposite of the ideal ego so bad that it looped around to becoming him again. You based yourself off of the things he was not, which were the things he actually was. Have I gotten this point across yet?

“You keep restating things and it annoys me.”

Everyone annoys you when you know that they know more than you, and it infuriates you when they must repeat themselves because you never listen.

The mirror cracked further, exposing a third Ego. Between the two faces, a permanent frown lay on his lips. Exhausted, the corners of his mouth tug downward.

You overworked yourself. You never planned correctly. You tell others that the way to becoming a powerful man is to have faith in others, yet that faith you put in them is making them do all the work while you claim the credit for it since you had the original thought.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”

You’ve read “The 48 Laws of Power” cover to cover several times.

“That means nothing.”

OJ crossed his arms along with Ego, in sync. The middle man remained unmoving, as if he were merely a picture. The edges of him were misty and foggy, like a distant dream.

You wished to be nothing like him, yet you found yourself gravitated to Paper. Or, rather, Edacity. Much like soulmates. Or, preferably, like a parasite that found a fix.

Though Ego wished to hurl every insult in the book at OJ, he found himself drawing blanks. Unable to move, unable to speak. Only able to try to catch his breath, to ground himself.

You, out of all eight of the creations that she crafted, have fallen directly in line with the person you were based off of the most. Not to the T, but in a more corrupt way.

“No.”

And yet you got so mad when Cobs had accidentally called you OJ.

“Stop.”

Because you are him, and you know this. Stop lying to yourself, Ego. You based your entire identity off of that man, deep down you knew it. You had to face the truth some day.

Then what was he? If he’d found his way back to the starting point by some cosmic unlucky chance, then what else was there for him to gain? He’d grown disdainful of the man he was based off of, yet that man was him. And he was that man.

You despise yourself.

The man in the middle, between the two in the mirror, smiled. He spoke when OJ spoke. The voices overlapped, matching in pitch and sound yet inflection differentiated to a dizzying degree.

Your ego is skewed. You present more id. But you and I both know you don’t really wish for it to be so.

Your superego has been hidden under locks and keys for fear of seeming weak.

Your reality is based on and in id. Your ego does not exist. Additionally, Ego does not exist.

If both the ego and Ego do not exist, and your superego has been forcefully locked away only to echo in the nights where you stay by yourself nursing a glass of alcohol, then do so.

“Do what?”

Allow for your id to fully take control. Embrace the instinctual impulsivity of humanity, and enjoy the consciousness of your animalistic aggressiveness.

That id is your ego ideal.

The id is what you want, while the ego ideal is the behavior that you display. Your id and ego ideal are so similar already, why don’t you try to let it fully engulf you?

A pain shot through his skull. It burned. It stung. It ripped his body. It gnawed at his being and it tore away at himself and swallowed him whole.

You have no morality.

Ego, you’ve sacrificed so much already, haven’t you? Is that not what’s needed of a strong, justified leader?

You have consciousness of such now.

Ego, wouldn’t it be wise to rip off the bandaid? To give into the theatrics and allow for yourself to reach full potential? To finally go onto the path that the ideal ego could never even think to achieve?

You will have nothing if you don’t allow it to dissolve.

Ego. You. Ego. You.

Ego.

You.

Ego screamed, gripping his hair and yanking the body from the closet down, tossing it onto his shoulder with a fury of adrenaline. Hoisting the limp parts out of the room, down the stairs. Each step heavier than the last. The rope of the noose dragged along, trailing behind him.

As Ego approached an experiment room, he kicked the door open with all of his might, then threw the parts onto the table. After adjusting it to be positioned perfectly on the table, he slammed the door shut and locked it. And he reached into a drawer that contained many instruments and tools, grabbing a couple of syringes from the very back. An older syringe. Not that it mattered much. He had no cares anymore. And any worry that he had before had finally and totally been eradicated.

His breathing was heavy as he walked up to the man on the table, grasping at one of his wrists and tapping around for a place that might still contain the chemicals he had concocted long ago. His breath grew shaky just as before, and he stabbed the needle carelessly into the skin of the wrist, then slowly drew out a neon green fluid that filled the barrel of the syringe effortlessly.

And he repeated it.

Repeated it once more.

And a final time.

Four syringes, all full of the chemical from the manufactured cadaver on the table.

One by one, he inserted the needles into his own skin, aiming for his wired ‘veins’ that pumped regular oil. Each and every tunnel that made up his man-made circulatory system felt full and satiated, soothing an ache that he didn’t even know he had. He was being. He was alive, and he had grown conscious of what he had been and will be.

After the fourth syringe, he yanked the needle out of his arm and gripped Edacity’s wrist as tight as he could. His fingers dug into the silicone, and he couldn’t even find it within him to wince at what he needed to do now. He had to make sure that there was no chance of Eda coming back ever. No loose strings. No unchecked possibilities. No longer could he risk funneling his time and energy into the man who had shown disloyalty and superstition to the point of complete ignorance.

His other hand reached for the other wrist across the table, and he steadied himself.

Without any further additional thoughts, he ripped both arms off.

Green slime splattered everywhere in a fraction of a second, exploding and blotching across the once clean walls at the sides of the examination table. The sludge poured onto the ground.

Holding both arms behind him, he used the claws to scratch at his shoulder blades, tearing the skin after just a few rakes. It was the perfect spot on his body for such an experiment of power. The more he tore at his back, he found himself laughing gradually louder and louder, echoing in the room that now had Infusion X dripping and blotting almost every wall.

When his back felt raw enough, he flipped the arms in his hands, attaching the shoulders to his shoulder blades. He pressed them inwards, into his skin and further pressed them into the open wounds. It squelched and burned, making Ego bite back the screams and allowing himself to chuckle instead.

He had barely noticed the odd sweat dripping down his face as he lost it, cackling as he felt the tingling of the arms happily connecting and twisting to his body much like a parasite that had found its new fix. At first it was heavy. Extra weight on his shoulders was nothing new when it came to responsibility, and just because this time the weight was physical that did not mean he’d give up any time soon.

The arms regenerated the silicone at the tears in his shoulder blades, scarring and gluing themselves as he now had full reign and control over their mobility. Each cell, chemical makeup, joint, coding, the metal skeleton inside was his now.

No longer did he have to worry about someone getting close enough to betray him.

His new arms splayed wide, unfurling like wings over his head as he gestured with his lower arms to test the motions of them and how well he could balance it all. Elation filled his lungs as he spun around, cackling to himself. It was like he was experiencing life with new eyes, in awe at the possibilities that had been opened for him.

Below him was Edacity, who now lay limp on the floor. Somehow during the episode, he had inadvertently knocked him down. And to that, Ego took a step backwards, stumbling towards the door whilst giggling to himself uncontrollably. His newfound claws scratched at the walls, leaving thick scratches in them as he trailed himself lower down the facility. Down, further down, darker and darker to the bottom of the building where the engineers and chemists mingled to work on a new way to harvest more of the pure, shimmer energy needed.

Ego felt proud of the things he created.

He did help humanity, despite what Edacity had claimed.

“E-Ego?”

He barely noticed the stranger he’d encountered. Possibly one of the dispensable workers who was hired a few days ago. He squinted, bending forward to get a closer look at the nametag.

“Zoetrope, huh?” Ego rubbed his chin with his regular hand, while scratching his hair with his new claws. “Well, a new audience wouldn’t hurt. How do you like them?” He sang, moving his new appendages in picture-perfect positions.

For a minute, the worker trembled as he held a clipboard close to his chest, but sighed as he steeled himself. “W-We’ve been trying to fix the gateway but everything we try seems to lead to possible implosion of the gate itself, and explosion of the console. We’re not sure what the issue is but—”

“Solve it then.” Ego folded his lower arms. His claw bent down, pressing against Zoetrope’s chin. “We need to harvest more shimmer energy before we run out of the chemical. We can’t let the people down. You know this, newbie.”

The worker nodded, then scurrying away once Ego retracted his claw from him. He always helped his employees find a way to complete tasks effortlessly and perfectly. This would be no different. No matter the cost, he would be able to complete this one thing without having any outsiders fuck it all up.

Everyone was much smaller than him now, and he mightily enjoyed it.

Chapter Text

Desire hadn’t had a proper shower in a long, long time. Not that she needed to shower, but the feeling of being fully clean and dressed in comfortable clothes was something unbeatable. Earthy green jumper top paired with baggy khaki cargo pants. The colors weren’t something she ever considered wearing, but she enjoyed the texture of them and how they grazed against her skin. She had the freedom to move every which way without exposing the scratches and roughness of her limbs.

On the bathroom counter, under the mirror, she watched as the pink cigarette lay still. Unmoving, rolling nowhere. Static and predictable. Surprisingly it stayed dry during everything it's gone through. Just as her eye stayed in place, slowly losing focus at the sights in front of her and surrounding her. Herself, in the mirror, now looking back at her through tears, unflinching as the thunder roared outside of the house, slightly shaking the walls.

How often has she cried recently? Whatever the frequency was, it was draining the energy out of her.

“Maybe I should figure out how to shut that function off,” She wiped her eye shakily. Then she found herself gripping the bathroom counter, sighing and panting trying to catch her breath. “Very annoying of me.”

She stood upright now, still looking at herself in the mirror. Her eye stay glued to the baggy jumper covering her arms, masking away the slight green veins under her skin. For once, she actually felt like she looked good in an outfit that she wore. This thought tugged at her lips, upward curling to a slight smile. It was comfortable— It was perfect.

Though, the dent in her head was an annoying eyesore. And her hair kept getting caught in it, leaving split ends when she had to yank the strands out instead of a normal brush of her hand. Not to mention the torn and stained shirt cloth that laid stray in the sink, covered in old green and brown from the mud. Frankly it was just a gross situation all around, especially when her mind lingered on the reason it was stained with green.

Below the countertop, there were drawers. One on the left, and one on the right. While she was a little curious, she didn’t want to snoop. But what the hell, she’d done much worse in the past.

Her fingers wrapped around the left drawer’s handle, slowly pulling it open to reveal a few beauty products. None of which really suited her, as she wasn’t a fan of makeup in the first place.

The other drawer on the right had a few disposable razors, as well as some curling and straightening irons. It piqued her curiosity, so she lowered her hand into the drawer, feeling around and pushing her grasp toward the far back of the drawer. She swiped a few items further to the front of the drawer to see what had been hidden back there. Before her sight, laying in the drawer, were covers of different lengths to a clipper that she also pulled out with them.

Sharp things near her.

Desire jumped at the sight of the clippers, yet found herself looking at herself in the large mirror on the bathroom wall once more, noticing how poorly her hair had been taken care of. Sure it wasn’t real human hair, but she didn’t do a good job taking care of it. Even after taking the shower, there were still split ends and some of it was so fried it was practically in an unsaveable state of repair.

She grabbed the clippers and cord, plugging it into a nearby socket. Before turning it on, she placed and secured one of the protection covers on it. Finally, she flipped the little switch, bringing the clippers to life. Buzzing in her hand. Quite loudly in fact.

For a few seconds, she stared at the mirror. She really liked her shoulder length hair. Despite everything, it always remained the same for her, besides the few gray strands she developed. But she knew she couldn’t keep it, as it just kept getting in the way and was forced to bear the burden of torment and trauma alongside her.

She bent forward over the sink as she put the clippers to her head, guiding it along her skull and allowing for it to trim her hair. Each strand and section of her hair. While it wasn’t a full pixie cut as she expected, it was loose around her neck and still retained the curls she had before. Now it wasn’t as long enough to keep getting caught in the damaged side of her face.

Cold air tickled her neck, making her shiver whilst cutting her hair. It was unusual to have the nape of her neck so bare and uncovered.

At first, she tried to trim it as quickly as she could. The side where it would get stuck in her skin, she cut it without much thought. But now the clippers moved to the other side of her head slowly and methodically, cutting the other side just as short as the previous with a much careful pace. Like she was trying to symmetrically replicate the other side onto the other.

Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

It was almost comforting, the feeling of having something so sharp close to her. Yet it wasn’t to harm her. In fact, it was helping her. Cutting her free of a passive stressor that she never realized she had.

The hair fell and dropped into the sink silently, yet with much weight.

She pressed her lips to a thin line upon seeing the mass of hair in the bowl of the sink, and she turned the clippers off. In the mirror, now staring back at her, was someone else. Herself, yet shorter hair. A loose, curly pixie cut. Something easier to maintain. Something that wouldn’t be messing itself up.

After unplugging the clippers from the wall, she looked in the drawers again, pulling out a first aid kit. Popping it open, she took out a roll of gauze and unwound it to wrap around her head comfortably. It was more secure this time, as she could tighten it however she wanted rather than allowing someone else to do so for her. Plus, it seemed to feel much nicer around the injury than the cloth that she was previously stuck with.

She looked different.

But it didn’t make her feel upset at all. She shook her head a little to let her hair bounce around and frame her face in a way she found comfortable. It was something that she chose to do, and it felt liberating in a sense.

Next to the cigarette laid the shining, spiked collar that Microphone had given her as a gift. Eyeing it, she sighed, picking it up and holding it tautly in her hand, careful to not touch the spikes for fear of smearing fingerprints on the metal. The only reasonable thing she thought she could do with it, besides throwing it away on a whim before thinking, was to save it to give it back to Microphone. Admittedly however, she wasn’t expecting to see her again anytime soon. Or even at all. Hopefully someone could relay it back to her somehow.

She shoved it into her pants pocket, then picked up the cigarette and placed it into an opposite pocket, carefully as to keep it from wrinkling or bending.

The vent’s rumbling ceased as she flipped the switches, as well as bringing darkness forth to the bathroom. And she exited slowly, forcing herself to step forward and out, and taking deep breaths with each push. Getting closer to the dining room, she could hear both Bot and Clover laughing and conversing pleasantly. And when she peeked around the corner, she could see that they had two cakes. One decorated already, and one blank. They both sat next to each other, gossiping and sharing videos with each other on their phones.

Their… Very familiar and more modern looking phones.

Desire hid behind the corner again, feeling something within her veins shift and squirm. Actually it made her body feel very weird seeing those phones, as if she wanted to snatch them out of their hands and keep them for herself. An impulse of control and possessiveness stirred within her. Bubbling in her stomach, burning at her throat.

Her hands began to shake. She stared at them in horror as she felt the veins within her constrict.

For a moment she felt herself stumble around the corner, holding onto the wall and huffing. This, however, did unfortunately get the attention of both Bot and Clover. Both evidently a little concerned. Clover jumped up from her seat, grabbing at Desire’s arms to try to help her stand steady. And she gripped onto Clover’s arms as hard as she could. Harder than she’d ever had to hold onto something for dear life before, as she found something within her to grow into a will to persevere.

Muffled talking. Both of the people who were holding Desire upright were trying to talk to her, raising their voices and trying to tap her to try to keep her steady, but she couldn’t focus. Her head had begun ringing. Pain shot through her body in each and every vein that circled through her. Like each of them had begun to close. Or even expand. Crawling beneath her skin like worms, digging into the earth.

She shook her head. “T-Tool box…” She sighed. “Get it out of me! Please!”

Bot and Clover could only meet eyes with confusion. “The tool box?” Bot cocked their head. “You mean a first aid kit?! You don’t look stable at all—”

Desire gripped Bot’s shoulders. “Please please just get the tool box. I need an exchange transfusion with new oil. NOW.”

Without a second to spare, Bot immediately leapt up and ran to another room. They could be heard scrambling and rummaging through things, knocking stuff over and shuffling far away. Clover stayed, only because she wished to comfort the new friend in front of her.

Desire’s legs wobbled as she was hoisted into the closest dining chair, weakly groaning as she let her wrist lay upwards on the table, exposing the green veins in her hand, wrist and arm. With her other hand she covered her eye, peeking at Clover through her calloused fingers. The neon glow softly radiated onto Clover’s face, that’s how strong it looked in the dim lights of the dining room. Her stomach churned. Either the sight of seeing someone she thought she could trust to find out an awful thing about her made her want to puke, or the chemicals within her finally sought separate consciousness within her and wanted to jump out from her mouth.

Clover stood upright, still staring at the unbelievable sight in front of her. “Your veins… They’re…”

And Desire could tell she was horrified. “Please don’t be scared,” She grunted, forcing her arm onto the table, “I don’t want to hurt you at all.” She felt safe. She for once felt safe. And now, her haven had been invaded by those thoughts again. The possibilities. The branches of multiple realities and whichever one would happen for her was like spinning a wheel with infinite spots for it to land on.

“What are you?” Clover’s jaw was agape with both intrigue and horror.

The blonde grunted once more. Her arm begged to be let free, yet she continued to push against the new impulses that had a deep, unquenchable thirst for bloodlust and violence. Gambling wasn’t her strong suit, but if she learned anything from Ego then there was something just a little bit true about ‘fake it until you make it’ that she needed to latch onto. Pronto.

Desire tilted her head, groaning out one last time before finally mustering up the courage to spit out the truth. “I was experimented on. I escaped a while ago but now I think it’s coming back to bite me in the ass,” and while that may have been the truth, the lie was something unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t her.

“Experiment?!” Clover gasped. “Oh my god, Des! A-And you’re not scared about this?”

“Not at all.”

There it was once more. Constantly she’d been paranoid about something like this happening, yet now she found herself being a complete asshole and having to hide her true feelings. The two of them had already had so much happen with Desire appearing in their life just a few hours before. Now they had to play both doctor and engineer at the snap of a madman’s fingers.

Bot appeared with a large box of many instruments that looked to belong in a hospital. In the box was an IV line, needles, gloves, clamps, tourniquets, gauze, you name it and it was there. Except, there was no blood. There was also a huge blue jug that was empty.

“Clover, I need you to fill this with the oil in the garage we used to use for me,” Bot held out the jug for Clover, who took it swiftly without further question and immediately skittered to the garage. “Hang in there Des. Just stay calm. We got you, okay?”

Desire’s frown faded. She could only watch and examine Bot as they rummaged through the box and began to set everything up. They were so oddly calm about this, and it piqued Desire’s interest. Not that she would ever pry about this sort of thing. She especially wouldn’t if Bot never brought it up. But she still had that nagging little insect in the back of her microchip and computerized brain that kept gnawing at the question of ‘Why is Bot so calm about this?’

The garage door flew open, and Clover waved the jug full of the black fluid around as best as she could. Well, it was more so shaking and wobbling along the ground due to the weight. “I got it! I got the oil!”

“Hook her up,” Bot took out an IV and needle, giving the other end to Clover.

Clover immediately went to work with fastening the IV into the oil, securing it with thick duct tape to ensure it wouldn’t budge and risk any damages. Bot, on the other hand, had already attached a different IV into a second large jug, and had fastened it long ago. Then they took out a blood catheter, letting Desire look at it for a while.

And in response, Desire could only look away in horror. She didn’t really like needles. Up until this moment, truth be told, she kind of convinced herself that she worked past that fear ever since she ran away from Meeple. Evidently it was just hidden away between the corners of her mind.

“Not a fan of needles?”

Desire turned back, looking at Bot’s concerned expression.

“That’s alright,” Bot pat Desire’s shoulder, “you don’t have to look. You’ll feel a slight pinch, but the most you’ll feel is exhausted from the exchange. Okay Des?”

The blonde felt a little woozy already from the thought of the now voluntary medical emergency. Nevertheless, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you. You don’t have to comfort me—”

“You deserve comfort.” Clover popped into the conversation. “We got you okay?”

The needle was inching closer to her wrist. And she finally felt the courage to let herself be scared. She turned her head away, nodding and letting out a short hum of agreement. Her eye was shut tightly, not wishing to look at anything going on around her. She relinquished herself into the comfort of the two strangers who promised her safety and security. For a few seconds she was expecting the pain of the needle to make contact with her skin and send a wave of panic through her wiring, but nothing came.

“Whoa.”

Desire opened an eye, looking at Bot. They kept their eyes on the IVs in her wrists, yet spoke so sweetly to her. “You’re a robot just like me?”

Okay well now their name made more sense. And it also gave more insight as to why Bot knew so much about this kind of thing.

“Des I’m so sorry you had to go through whatever you went through. I heard you mention being ‘experimented’ on…” Their voice trailed off just like the green fluid exiting her wrist, like a sickeningly sweet green apple waterfall, dripping into the empty jug below. “I won’t force you to talk about it, but just know that I understand what it’s like to be confused about everything.”

Her throat was a little dry from being within the direct vicinity of any sharp needle, but she continued to avoid being face to face with the catheters in her wrists. “What do you mean?”

Bot chuckled lowly, like they were embarrassed about something that popped up in their mind. “Well, my creator built me in the image of someone else. She expected me to be something that I couldn’t really live up to be.”

“Tell me about it,” Desire snickered.

“Well, don’t let those expectations dictate you. They may come crawling back at any moment and try to convince you that you’re a fraud, but what's more important is you finding out who you want to be.” Bot looked up at Desire, sparing a few seconds of a warm smile. “Don’t let your code truly define you. You can break free from that matrix of identity and be whatever you find best and comfortable for you.”

Desire furrowed her brows upward, worried at the message she was being given. It took every fibre of her being to not spill out everything to them right then and there, but they held back. She could only ask them one question. “What if other people that I’ve cared about find out what they want to be and leave me behind? And further control what I do and say and think, or control how I should act?”

“Then you shouldn’t worry about them.” Bot huffed firmly. “If they’re worth your care, they would support you and try to change you for the better. To help you and teach you.”

Clover lightly rubbed Desire’s back and jumped into the conversation as well. “Some of those people might try to teach you in ways that seem harsh, but they might just be struggling with their own self as well.” She continued to rub little circles onto Desire’s back, letting her calm her anxious breathing. “You’ll know if they only want to damage you if they’re upset when you tell them to stop. They’re probably projecting their own insecurities onto you then.”

When Cupidity had been telling Desire to buck up and take charge, Desire only really thought it was something she’d done to make herself feel better. Never in her life had Desire thought that it was just Cupid probably projecting. Well, okay, of course Cupidity had been projecting her own insecurities onto Desire. It just really made sense for her attitude and characteristics.

“God,” Desire sighed. “It really makes sense.” While she knew the whole ‘power of friendship’ idea was corny as hell and definitely not a route she would go with her entire situation, but trying to at least understand where Cupidity was coming from would have helped her a lot more in the previous situation instead of just beating the shit out of her on the ground. Even though Desire felt like Cupid deserved it just a little itty-bitty tiny bit, it was still so wrong of her. No wonder she felt so guilty about it.

The three of them stewed in the silence, sitting as the chemicals exited Desire’s bloodstream and allowed for the thick black oil to gradually replace it all. She sat completely still, as Bot and Clover often stood up to go do a quick break or to allow Clover to take a short nap. Often Bot would scroll on their phone, but Desire would have to look in any other direction to keep from seeing it.

Minutes melted into hours, until the oil jug had grown almost empty. And the jug full of green chemicals began to drip black. Desire felt a bitter taste in her throat upon seeing the oil beginning to leak out of the extraction side of her. The thunderstorm fully rolled in, often striking nearby the house and lighting it up for a fraction of a millisecond and bringing a loud, thunderous roar along with it.

“That’s it!” Bot smiled, sitting up and getting right to work with beginning to remove the IVs from Desire’s arms.

She felt very weak, yet full of an energy she wasn’t used to. Newfound vigor that she only remembered from the first time she awoke in front of her green-haired creator for the first time, squinting at the bright white lights that lovingly stabbed at her, at the time, two eyes. Had that chemical Ego made really been eating away at her energy supply and powersource? 

“I feel a little lightheaded…” Desire groaned.

Bot nodded, taping up the needle-sized holes in Desire’s skin. “That’s normal for anyone who has a transfusion of any kind. Dizziness, hunger if you have it, and… Wow that stuff looks freaky as heck!” Bot tapped the jug after closing it tightly. The chemical sloshed around, and seemingly jostled and twitched. “So weird. Glad we got that creepy shit out of you!” Bot pat Desire’s back with a giggle.

“I think I need to lay down…” Desire sighed. “It’s so late.”

“I said you can crash here!” Bot stood up, moving the jugs to another side of the room. Far enough away to keep it out of sight from Desire. “We do have a guest room.” They smiled.

Desire shook her hands up in protest. “No I can’t possibly do that to you guys!”

“Des,” Bot sighed. “I promised you could. Plus you wouldn’t even need me to promise. I know you need the rest.”

“I just feel bad about the cakes and—”

“Don’t be. You’ve gone through enough.”

Even though she was so light headed, her chest weighed so heavily.

“Come on,” Bot waved their hand, “follow me. It’s the comfiest bed in the house!” Bot didn’t force her, yet Desire stayed right behind them like a lost animal, into the back of the house. Where the bathroom was, yet further down to a spare bedroom. While it looked a little plain, the bed did in fact look just as fluffy as Bot had claimed it to be.

“It’s really late. Get some shut eye, okay?” Bot slowly shut the door, flicking off the lights. “You did really well today.”

And as soon as the door shut, Desire felt her knees buckle. She fell onto the bed, gripping the fluffy blankets and cushioned mattress. Her body could finally loosen up. And she couldn’t feel a sludge within her veins wriggle and writhe, but she could hear her programmed heart beat softly, yet so presently. She was here. In the present. At the moment.

Though she had always been scared to sleep, expecting to die at any moment in her slumber, her eye found itself to be quite heavy. And she shuffled beneath the blankets, the warmth enveloped her delightfully and welcomingly. Her hair was short, so it would be easy to brush the knots out when she woke up. Her bandage was secure. She no longer had to worry about the things inside of her eating her alive. She was clean.

The thunder wasn’t scary for her, because soon enough her consciousness slipped away into a rather delightful, loving dream of warmth, protection, and with the blessing of a smile tugging at her lips, she allowed herself to rest for the night.

Chapter Text

Cupid never liked drinking but this was a dire situation. The warmth nipped at the inside of her throat as she chugged down a thick glass of the alcohol, letting herself hunch over the table. With Test Tube sitting across from her, of course. She glared at the green haired robot in front of her, gripping the handle of the glass mug.

And with a heavy yet annoyed sigh Cupid placed her free hand on her cheek, propping her head up. “What do I even call you? I’m not calling you Test Tube anymore. And I’m sure as hell not calling you Paragon… Not wanting to risk anything. We don’t know who could be around here.” She glanced around the busy bar, sneaking quick glances at the strangers that crowded the place. Any one of them could be with Ego or from Meeple, it was only a matter of time until they ran into one of them.

She herself had a hoodie that she bought from a nearby store raised over her head, obscuring her hair and face from outsider vision. Especially to hide the bruises and scratches and mud from earlier. Additionally she gave her friend a coat as well, also a beanie to wear over her head. And sunglasses to cover the glowing yellow eyes that were sure to garner attention from anyone who was within a few feet radius. She stayed silent, watching the liquid in Cupid’s beer bubble up.

“Hey,” Cupid snapped her fingers in front of the robot’s face, “Are you even awake right now?”

“Yes!”

“I’m not calling you by your old names.”

“Then how about something cool?”

Cupid scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Neo! Usually a prefix that defines as ‘new’ or ‘recent!’”

“You’re not going by that ridiculous fucking name.” Cupid tapped her nails on the table. Then the silence between them lasted for seemingly an eternity. “Okay. No, you’re right. It’s easier and quicker to say anyways. Not like any Meeple-Head would know what it would mean.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

And then she, that Neo, pointed up. “Cupid?” Pointing her finger to the top corner of the bar where the television had been blaring a news station. “Are we fucked?”

“What Test— Neo? What is it now?” Cupid took another sneaky glance to the corner of the room, her face dropping at the sight on the screen. Quietness overtook the bar, leaving goosebumps along Cupidity’s neck and arms. On that screen was a profile picture of two men. One with slicked back white hair, and another with medium length black hair.

Edacity and Ballpoint Pen, displayed on the television with a news anchor saying some typical words of giving well wishes to the people impacted from their passing.

“Dead?” Cupidity’s eyes widened. It was like something within her ached. Her voice trembled, and her knuckles sought refuge through locking themselves around the mug’s handle. “They…” Tears pricked at her eyes beneath her sunglasses. Edacity, the man who had only been doing what he was ordered to under the guise of helping others. “He…”

“All because of Ego.” Neo muttered. “He feels everyone is expendable. We should have expected this. The only thing I’m surprised about is how long it took.”

Ballpoint Pen as well, which was also a little bit of a shock. Ego’s two best personal hitmen now gone in an instant. And even then, Edacity wasn’t merely just a hitman. He was the second in command of that company. Ego trusted him with many trade and business secrets. Eda was the one who prevented Ego from ever lashing out on impulse. Ego’s rock.

Ballpoint was also the most trusted secretary Ego had— He was someone who never missed a shot and would have sacrificed everything in an instant if it meant appeasing his boss. While Cupid wasn’t really close to him by any means, it didn’t make sense that he would also be gone so soon.

“What the hell happened to them?” Cupid muttered, her eyes still glued to the screen. “We need to bring Edacity back.”

“We can’t.”

Cupid looked at Neo, rage clouding her vision. Though she kept herself in her seat. “What do you mean we can’t? We did it to you, right?”

“By the time we even get there, it will be too late. We don’t know what Ego has done. He could have dumped the ‘leftovers’ out by now. They could have died days ago, yet only have reported it to the public today,” Neo folded her hands, looking down at the table. “We have no way of knowing.”

God, whenever someone other than her is right about something, Cupid just wanted to punch the wall. Or something of that sort. Not because she hated the idea of others knowing more than her, but due to the fact that she wished she could think of a better solution to the problem that they were in. Whether realist or pessimist, it was a curse that she wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“We need to kill that guy, Neo.” Cupid hissed, watching the man take foot on stage on the camera on the television screen. “I can’t watch that fucker speak.” She got up, leaving a hefty amount of change under the beer mug as a tip for the workers who had to clean up after her, and she quickly marched out of the bar with Neo clinging to the back of her new coat.

Neo stammered, unable to process the speed of it all. “We can’t just go waltzing in there willy-nilly, right? He killed Eda, who was arguably the strongest of all of us.”

The two of them stood under the bar’s entrance canopy, avoiding the rain that poured down around them, alienating them from the rest of the parking lot.

“Well we don’t really have much of a choice now do we?!” Cupid scoffed, throwing her arms up. “We don't really have much time left, do we?! And since Desire flaked out on us like usual, we gotta take care of him before he gets even worse—” Cupid yelped, clutching her chest with one hand.

“Cupid?!” Neo rushed to her side, holding her by the shoulders and helping her lower to the ground softly instead of collapsing. “What happened? Are you hurt?!”

“Wh-What the hell do you think?!” Cupid kneeled on the ground, pounding at the concrete with a tight fist. It felt like vines were within her body, wrapping and cording around each joint and metal framework of her body. Coursing around like a race track, many little spots within her began beating like small, tiny little parasitic hearts that pumped something hot and stinging within her. Shooting something primal throughout her skull and arms, yearning to attack something near. Whether it be a tree, a pole, or Neo in front of her. Just a need to kill and maim.

She gasped, tugging at her shirt collar as if it would somehow keep her steady. Then it caught her attention: The veins in her wrists were glowing green. Twitching, her clawed fingers locked around the hem of her shirt to keep them occupied. Yet she found herself raising a fist and beating the concrete floor with all her might, scratching her hand further and splitting the skin open, allowing for some of the infused chemicals to seep out and splatter onto the floor.

Between gasps and pants, she calmly stated as such so that Neo could understand with easy terms. “Well something happened.” Cupid looked up to gauge Neo’s thoughts, yet only saw her with her jaw hanging open at the sight that just played out in front of her.

“Indeed…” Neo trailed off, looking towards the parking lot. “You looked like you could barely control whatever that was.”

Cupid chuckled, examining the liquid that dribbled out of the wound on her hand. “I just felt… rage. Anger, like a violence or something. I just wanted to grab something and destroy it.” She wrapped her claws around her wrist, holding it in place so that she could examine the glowing veins within her. The light pulsed slowly, then faded back to darkness. Unable to be seen through her skin. No more light reflecting onto her clothes. Just nothingness, and the sound of rain and thunder that clapped faraway.

She jumped a little at the booming thunder, yet sighed shakily. “I just want that man dead.”

Neo rubbed Cupid’s back in an attempt to soothe her. “We’ll get rid of him,” She nodded, her voice in a hushed whisper. “And then we’ll be free from his torment for the rest of our lives.”

The rain poured against the roof above the entryway of the bar, rattling through Cupid’s head.

“Whatever that was,” Cupid sighed and wobbled, pushing herself up to stand, “It wasn’t good. It definitely had to do with the Infusion X in me. I wonder if Desire felt it too…” She shook her head. “We need to start asking people around here where his new headquarters might be.”

Neo hummed in support, clutching her fist tighter. “Good idea.”

Cupid smiled at the compliment, yet paid it no further mind. She was honestly a little more worried about her body betraying her once again, or possibly doing something worse against her will.

A split second of panic panged through Ego’s skull, but he paid it no mind.

This would be simple. Go onto that stage, answer any question asked of him with doublespeak or even lies if needed, and leave. Quickly in, quickly out. Obfuscate the truth, and distort the reality of the situation. Make sure that his suit looked nice. But not too nice, as the illusion of grief wouldn’t be a good look for the brand.

“That’s right,” Ego’s eyes narrowed, eyeing the platform in front of him, “...seem human yet not too emotional. They eat it up.” Once again he found himself needing to stand on stage to address his people. This time without any distractions. This time with everything laid down in carefully calculated ways. With plots he’d made sure to point out himself, all was to be expected.

A large leather coat rested over his usual orange business suit. It was the only way he could hide the extra little secrets that were newly secured to his shoulders. And they were currently folded, stagnant beneath the leather coat like resting wings. It was comfortable to have something that always had his back for once.

He quickly took place behind the podium, angling the microphone to be closer to his mouth. Behind him a team of security officers lines up. Many he didn’t recognize besides the chief of them all, someone that Ego had recurring meetings with to ensure only the stories Ego could benefit from only ever made it to journalists. As the two of them shared a nod of greeting, the cameras began to flash. All of them were quite bright, but the show had to go on anyways.

In all earnesty, Ego began to spout some instant bullshit to the crowd in front of him.

The crowd did not really care for the truth and Ego knew that well. All they wanted to know was his reaction to the string of deaths that were somehow linked to the company. While he understandably was very passionate at remaining level headed, he did let his voice waver and crack just a little bit to tug at the heartstrings that sat on the edges of their seats in a proper orchestra of submission before him. Occasionally he’d wipe a tear or two— Or rather none, as it was all just a show.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the main course of his meal stumble onto the wing of the stage, waiting for Ego to finish the emergency press conference. Though he kept his focus on the lesser-than–pawns before him in the audience.

“And I just know they are looking down at me— At us all. Proud of us. Proud of our progress as a company. Excited to see where our endeavors take us.” Ego nodded, folding his hands on the podium. “Thank you all.”

Though before he could make his way off stage to meet with his new business partner, a million journalists had begun to swarm the edge of the stage, shoving microphones up towards Ego’s direction to try to get his attention. Waving them, shouting his name and begging for him to answer their burning questions.

Ego felt shivers at the attention that was laid before him.

“You said Eda has passed away, that means the chair for COO is open now right?”

“Mister Ego, do you have proof that the deaths of these two employees wasn’t linked to the company in any way or were they actually freak accidents?”

“What was Eda like?!”

Ego tilted his head, putting a hand on his hip. “Eda was a fine man. Very headstrong. Spearheaded any project that I came up with. Very reliable. It’s a shame that he had inexplicably passed away. If I could figure out the person who murdered him, I’d have him locked up in a heartbeat!”

Cameras flickering.

“Though admittedly,” Ego stroked his chin, “while he did have some differing views than I did, and tried to…” Ego hummed, side-eyeing the crowd curiously to see their reactions. They all seemed to whisper amongst each other, ushering their microphones further forward toward him. All begging and pleading for him to elaborate on such a juicy story. A huge fib, ready for some further manipulation and tweaking to be proper and ready for the journalists in the crowd to lap up like thirsty animals. “I wouldn’t doubt if he felt sorry for the evil actions he tried to take to stall our growth as a company!”

More camera flashes and snapping, many people shouting questions at him. Questions that Ego decided to answer so graciously to fill them into the reality he began to build brick by brick in his mind. Words spilled through his teeth easily, like a golden alcohol spilling into the gluttony of the crowd.

“My, what if they come for me next?” Ego woefully placed his hand over his eyes, parting his fingers to peek through to the audience with his brows furrowed in a worried pinch. “However would I be able to advance our projects for us all?” He leaned against the podium, sighing. “The ones I’d been fighting with Eda about continuing for the betterment of humanity. Promoting green energy and providing for a cleaner planet?”

For a minute his voice wavered and he trembled, gripping his face lightly. Hiccuping, he let his head droop slightly, hiding himself from the crowd. “My apologies!” He managed to gasp out. “Thank you all for coming. I’ll allow Chief Baton to continue the conference, as I feel…” He sniffled, allowing for one of the officers to escort him offstage gently.

To which Ego responded with his signature smile behind the curtains, thanking the officer with a firm pat on the back as a signal to send him back onto the stage. His eyes lingered on the podium for a few minutes, watching as the police chief, Baton, further addressed the people for the press conference.

Then Ego turned, meeting eyes with the scraggly man in front of him. A long white coat, with chestnut red hair with a couple grey streaks. An unkempt beard on his chin. Bags under his eyes. A stethoscope around his neck, and his gloved hands securely gripped a large suitcase.

“Dr. Fizz!” Ego raised his hand in a delighted wave. “You sure took your sweet time getting here, huh? Walk with me.” The doctor stammered, yet before he could even so much as croak out a greeting Ego wrapped an arm around his shoulder and held him tightly as Ego made his way out of the stage room. “I’m assuming you were able to fulfill the task.”

“You wouldn’t leave me alone,” Dr. Fizz scoffed. “Do you know how difficult it was to convince Nemesis and Nickel to hand it over?” His voice was a whisper, so as to not have it echo across the large hallway that they slipped through.

Ego often whipped out varying key cards and swiped them along pads on the sides of the doors, allowing for them to quickly slide open, allowing for them to enter a somehow even bigger or spacious room decorated with stark white minimalist corporate aesthetics. Both men’s shoes echoed as they tapped the floor to further their location deeper and deeper. For Ego this was home. For Dr. Fizz, this was like willingly venturing into the lion’s den. The dragon’s nest. Risking it all for some extra brownie points with the carnivorous beast just so he would leave the helpless people at his home alone.

And he was possibly the next ideal prey.

Then the two of them stepped into an elevator. A glass elevator. From which Dr. Fizz could make out the sight of the rest of the corporate building. While the rooms of the entire building sure seemed astronomically huge compared to the outside, he still felt small when gazing upon Meeple’s glory. There was a nasty sour feeling in his stomach, tugging at the deeper corners within him. Pulling the guilt forth from within him.

“Why’d you accept, doc?” Ego grinned as he pulled out a huge ring of keys from his pocket, pilfering through them with his fingers lightly. “You know you could have laid low right?”

“You said if I did this you’d leave those men alone,” Fizz spat out.

“Oh?” Ego tilted his head, reaching into the recesses of his mind. It then dawned on him, and he cackled, placing a hand on his chest softly. “Oh! Those men. Yes, Nemesis and Nickel. Interesting duo. Very unlikely pair. Really gives me a nice, warm feeling in my lovely beating heart.”

Dr. Fizz felt his eye twitch. His knuckles tightened around the handle of the suitcase. “I don’t know what the hell goes on around here, but I just want them to be left out of it. Okay? That’s all.”

The elevator crawled to a halt, stopping at the uppermost floor. Highest floor in the entire building. Hundreds of floors, and Ego had taken a complete stranger to the top of it. Fizz could feel that sour feeling return. A pit in his stomach. Even looking out of the windows made him feel like he was going to fall at any moment. Like he needed to hold secure onto a railing.

Ego knew of this. That was why he chose the uppermost floor in the building for his office. And he snickered over this fact as he unlocked his office doors, swinging them open and allowing for Fizz to enter hesitantly.

The office was a stark contrast to the rest of the building’s aesthetics. While the main sections of the buildings stunk of the lemon scent of cleaning products or reeked of white minimalism and corporate art styles, Ego’s office was much different. Dim lights decorated the wooden and brown aesthetic of it all. Dark shelves lined with thick books. And it was so spacious, as if it was also his personal cave. Leather chairs at a long wooden conference table, and matching ones at his desk. And large windows lined the farthermost wall, which were covered by closed blinds and dark orange curtains.

Oddly comfortable. Fizz practically felt his body relax in an instant. The scent was rather charming too. Citrusy with a complimenting woody or ambery delight that seemed to support the bold orange smell. As well as a comforting burn of fiery alcohol, definitely coming from the desk area.

“Briefcase on the desk, doctor,” Ego inched closer to his desk, tapping his finger lightly on the desktop. “Set it down softly. Don’t jostle him around now.”

Fizz scoffed back at him, placing the case softly onto the table just as Ego kindly requested of him. Then his eyes darted up, watching as Ego stood on the other side of his desk, staring at Dr. Fizz intently.

“Aren’t you going to take a seat? Surely you're aching after all that walking,” Ego slid off his large coat, laying it on the back of his office chair softly. He stood facing the doctor, turning ever so slightly when Fizz turned his own face. As if he was hiding something behind him. Yet Dr. Fizz knew there was no possible way, as both of Ego’s arms had been visible the entire time. Ego even began to loosen his tie, sighing upon the lack of response from the doctor.

Fizz immediately sat himself in the chair, leaning into the comfortable leather chair. It had certainly been a long few weeks attempting to navigate about communicating with Ego behind his acquaintance's backs, but it was the least he could do.

“Open the case,” Ego pointed, “I don’t want anything to jump out at me.”

“As if I would try that…” Dr. Fizz rolled his eyes and scooted himself closer to the desk, flipping the locks on the briefcase open and turning it around to face the man on the other side. And Fizz braced himself as he slowly opened the case, wincing as he knew what lay within.

Inside was the detached head of a man. One Fizz barely knew, but it didn’t really matter.

“You look sick, doctor.” Ego sneered, sliding a thick stack of cash across the table.

Fizz choked back a groan of disgust. Then he swiped the money and shoved it all neatly and swiftly into his coat pocket.“Well it just looks so real. I know he’s just a robot, but…” Fizz grimaced at the sight. “Why did you want Apathy’s head anyways? Are you going to fix him?”

Ego tapped his chin, smiling to himself. “He’s going to be the new chief operating officer, of course.” The man finally sat in his chair, marvelling at the sight of the head in the case. “Second in command. After Eda’s untimely demise, of course.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed as Ego began to ruffle in a desk drawer, still obscuring his backside from view. And out of the drawer was a vial. Glowing green, reflecting easily on the tabletop and any surface accessible in the dimly lit office space. Radiating light ethereally, yet it made Dr. Fizz’s breath hitch in an instant.

“That looks severely man-made,” Dr. Fizz gulped. “Am I right? That liquid isn’t natural at all.”

The businessman hummed, gripping the beheaded robot in the suitcase by a fistful of hair, lifting it up to meet himself at eye level. “You’d be surprised at what man can achieve. In droves, like an ant colony, they can even move mountains,” Ego snickered. “Isn’t it charming?”

Fizz found himself gripping his pants. “Ch-Charming? What is?”

“When I look out of those windows over there,” Ego’s eyes trailed to the large windows that lined the farthest wall. The ones covered by blinds and curtains. Fizz’s eyes followed, peering at the night sky through the closed blinds. Ego’s voice was laced with something sickeningly sweet. An oddly treacly tone that left bile crawling up Fizz’s throat. “I don’t even see people anymore. I see mere animals sniffing at each other, sizing each other up. Deciding which is the competition, and which is easiest to squash.”

A lump formed in Fizz’s throat as he looked back at Ego, who was still staring at the head that dangled by the hair in his hand.

“I see insects. Ants trapped in the looping continuity of an ant mill, circling so long as their goal is kept hidden away from them and kept a mystery. Following the one in front of them to the inevitable expiration of exhaustion.” Ego popped open the vial with one flick of his thumb. “Animals that fight each other, yet lose their way and become little meaningless bugs that I can squash all at once when they realize just how lost they can be.” For a few seconds Ego’s eyes lay on the vial of chemicals he held in his hand. Silence, before he spoke again. Lower than before, yet thundering.

“Even if I must torment them to the brink of death, then allow them to kill themselves.”

With that revelation, Fizz’s full attention snapped back to the sight of Ego’s disgusting smile. That knowing grin, burning through Fizz’s eyes and skull. He could only stutter and stammer, shaking his head slowly.

“You didn’t.” Of course. It was somehow both a surprise and not really all that shocking that Ego had a hand in the death of his one trusted partner. “You let him die, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want him to,” Ego tilted his head. The corner of his smile twitched. “He simply couldn’t handle the responsibility. He mucked up, and now it’s up to me to work overtime to fix the mess he’s left for me to deal with on my own.”

Something behind the businessman shifted, and suddenly the entryway to his office clicked.

Dr. Fizz instinctively shot upwards at the noise and made a quick dash toward the doors. He yanked at the doorknobs, trying to pull them out. To pry them open, yet they refused to budge. Simply unmovable, and escape seemed farther than just the huge doors that separated him and the large hallway to the elevator. The doctor hollered then lifted his leg, kicking at the door.

“I’m afraid that won’t work, doctor.”

At the desk, Ego shoved the vial in between the lips of the decapitated head, allowing for the fluid to flow into the mouth.

Fizz splayed his arms over the door, backing into it. “What are you doing to him?!”

With that, Ego sat the head upright on the desk table. He himself stood up, inching closer to the trapped man.

“Don’t get any closer to me!” Dr. Fizz’s hands felt at the wall, shakily reaching towards the shelf that was lined with many glass bottles of expensive alcohol. “I’m warning you, sir!”

Yet the man didn’t listen.

And so there was only one option left. An option due to impulse. Self defense. Dr. Fizz snatched a bottle and swung with all of his might, socking Ego straight in the jaw in the blink of an eye.

Ego stumbled back, covering his jaw securely with a hand through many gravelly grunts and groans.

Mere seconds of silence elapsed before Ego shook his head, tilting his head to crack his neck. “I should have known,” Ego scowled, taking a quick glance back at Apathy’s head that rested on the desk. “It’ll only be a few more minutes until that stuff makes a full revolution throughout his head. I can spare a while to play with my food.”

The man in the orange suit raised his arms. And then they came unfurling from his back, like the wings of an angel of death, two pale arms with inky black claws that seemed to move at any angle he willed them to. Extending, rotating, snapping and cracking as he inched closer to Dr. Fizz. The sight of it, while uncanny as hell, had the man only freeze in fear. While usually he was the type to fight in times of stress, it was as if seeing the multiple arms in front of him only reinforced the fact that he would be fighting a losing battle. Only to succumb to the pain, giving his life away in a failed retaliation due to his own mistakes and mishaps.

Claws shot forward, snatching the doctor by the neck and raising him up towards the roof.

The doctor’s throat tightened from the sheer force, only able to raise his arms to try to pry the hands away from interlocking around him. Thrashing his legs, attempting to kick anything he could reach. Knock anything down, possibly to hit Ego right in the noggin and cause him to stumble and possibly let the man go free.

But there was nothing. And static began to cloud his vision. His nerves felt loose, and the adrenaline began to slow. His muscles began to weaken. His kicking legs began to dangle. His hands lightly slapped against the claws. Then his shoulders fell. He could feel his eyes bulge out of his skull, and his face grew both warm and cold at the same time. Hot from the pressure yet cold from the absence of circulation.

“Put him down you sick fuck?!”

Immediately Ego threw the doctor to the floor, sparing him to take the deepest breaths he’d ever taken— Inhaling the oxygen around him as if it was an addictive substance to abuse.

Ego turned, eyeing the direction of the voice. On the table, the head’s eyes were open.

“Apathy!” Ego cheered out, his sick and haunting laughter echoing throughout his office. “My, you sure woke up late! I nearly killed the little worm!”

“Why am I even awake?” Apathy coughed. “I actually enjoyed sitting in the nothingness that I was damned to experience.”

Ego bent downward, meeting Apathy at eye-level once more. “Edacity has passed away.”

The head’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with a hint of suspicion. “I’m not filling his slot. Kill me before that happens. I’ll fuck it up on purpose just to annoy you.”

The businessman gripped Apathy by the hair again, this time earning some angry yelps of pain and protests. “My, you don’t think that seat is going to you , do you?” Ego shook Apathy lightly. “Not after all the ways you managed to mess everything up for us during your little stay here!”

“You and I both know I didn’t stay willingly,” Apathy spat at him, “You took my home and knew that I had nowhere else to go. You dangled the idea of shelter above me and abused that.”

“I gave you a home,” Ego playfully pouted. “I fed you, I provided entertainment. I didn’t have to do all of that. And yet you stole money from me. And had me drop thousands on you just for you to even think about allowing us to run tests and experiments on you,” Ego shook him lightly again. “And to think I ever pitied your little homeless situation! If I knew you’d abuse my kindness I wouldn’t have ever offered!”

“It was merely, well how do you put it…” Apathy rolled his eyes, then smirked. “A business transaction. I’m not a scammer. I don’t make false promises like you do. I don’t lie to people or twist the truth. All I did was ask for items, which you happily gave to me, for me to do your dirty work and assassinations. I didn’t say I would do a good job. That’s on you for thinking my work would be such high quality.”

Ego growled, slamming Apathy against the desktop.

“Stop that!” Fizz shouted as best he could, coughing and choking on his own words as he stumbled up. His legs were wobbly and weak, and he had to lean against the wall for support as he rubbed his own throat at an attempt to soothe it.

Slowly, Ego turned, glaring at Fizz. “The doctor is in, huh?”

Then the man fully turned, dangling Apathy’s head in full view.

“Well then!” Ego’s laughter reverberated around the office once more as the claws from his back raised once more. “Looks like you’ll have a front row seat to the surgery about to happen. Seeing as you’ll be the second in command from now on, doctor.”

“No…”

“With how I’ll look I surely won’t be able to appear in public affairs, yet Eda’s provided me with such a good guise of hiding that now it won’t even be suspicious!” Ego cackled, slamming Apathy’s head against the desk once more for good measure. Green splattering across the desk, blotting onto the floor. Anywhere. Ricocheting in places that were only illuminated due to the neonness. “And what a charming, handsome man you are as well! Not as handsome as me though huh?” His own grip tightened, Apathy’s hair knotted around his regular fingers.

The pale claws cradled Ego’s head, one hand on his forehead and one on the back of his skull. And Ego peered through the fingers. “Now watch closely, doctor! And scream all you want, because nobody can hear your helpless little hollering as long as you’re up here!” The claws tightened their grip on his own head. “And soon you’ll too learn the joys of squashing useless little bugs to fulfill the role as queen!”

The room echoed with a snap.

Ego’s head was suddenly at a grotesque angle. A full one hundred and eighty degrees, now facing completely and unnaturally behind him. His neck had twisted and snapped, and the claws began to slowly rake at the back of his skull. Ripping and tearing the skin with the foul sounds of flesh being torn, ripped to basically shreds. Scraps of the fake flesh dangled off of the neck, oozing the viscous green slime as if it were blood. As if it were naturally supposed to exist and bleed.

The hands scraped at the back of Apathy’s skull as well, yanking and tearing into the flesh like the teeth of a carnivore had finally found the sweet paradise of a weak animal large enough to fill its belly for the winter.

Tearing.

Ripping.

Oozing.

Fizz felt faint, yet contained his strength at the forefront of his consciousness. Though the sight was disgusting as all hell, he wasn’t going to allow Ego to control him at that moment. Admittedly he had the urge to scream, but all he could muster out from his sore throat were whimpers and groans of concern that also crescendoed and warped into disgust.

The words Ego left him echoed in his mind.

Watch closely, doctor!

Watch closely!

Watch!

Ego’s shoulders bounced heavily as his cackle continuously spilled forth, filling and flooding the room. And he pushed Apathy’s head to his, meeting the backs of their skulls together. Pressing and pushing each one into the other. The green fluid bubbled and warped, snagging onto each little band of flesh and each little fake pore. Injecting itself into each other. Locking as if it were a hug. Snapping onto each other, like a parasite finally finding its home on the perfect host.

Apathy’s head attached itself to the back of Ego’s own.

And their skull snapped back into place, with the egotistical and knowing smile facing forward towards the little spectator, and the apathetic and detached frown facing backwards. The hair from the front faded to orange, and in the back it faded to a dark, dirty gold.

It felt like Dr. Fizz’s heart was going to leap out of his throat at any moment. That or he was going to upchuck his entire body weight remembering what just played out in front of him.

“Well, well, well!” Ego raised his arms, feeling the sides of his head. “Another trophy for my collection, huh?”

“You’re sick,” Fizz choked out. “L-Let me out. Now.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Ego wistfully sighed, “you’ll tell everyone about what’s going on here! Not like they’d believe you, but I can’t even spare a single second dwelling or even entertaining that thought!” His head spun like clockwork, showing the frown openly. Yet now instead of Apathy’s own glowing eyes, they now shone with an orange hue. “And I don’t want to be all stressed and unable to focus…” Once more his head spun, locking in place and displaying the smiley side. “Unless I should go to collect little Nemesis as well?!”

“NO.” Fizz reached out a hand. “F-Fine. You win. Is that what you wanted?!”

Ego hummed, clasping his hands together. The claws reached over his shoulders and lightly held Dr. Fizz’s chin, helping the doctor to look at him better.

“You had to have known you wouldn’t be able to go home after coming to see me,” Ego pat his head with the other claw. “So show me what you’re good for, dear doctor. Tie the tourniquet and get ready to amputate the useless limbs already.”

And the doors unlocked.

“You’ll be checking on the employees downstairs. Make sure they’re actually doing work on the chemicals.” He raised a finger, his eyes remained unblinking. “They’re working on controlling the chemical remotely. If you try to run from your duties, well…” Ego chuckled. “I’ll know where you are.”

He shoved the man out of the office doors, shutting them tightly as soon as Fizz stumbled far enough out in the hallway.

Chapter Text

Down, deeper and farther into the building Dr. Fizz went. Riding the elevator as it slowly thumped and slid lower and lower. All with that shitty bossanova playing through the speakers on the roof of the lift.

Either it was the pressure of the air getting to him, or it was the aftermath of almost being choked so hard he almost saw whatever higher power brought him to life in the first place, but his entire body felt weak. Only able to support his body by leaning on the wall of the elevator, taking perfect care to not make direct eye contact with the very obvious white camera in the corner of the box. Goosebumps littered his flesh, inviting a shiver that crawled up his spine.

The sight of that thing remained burning in his mind, the darkness of ash remnants staining his eyelids refusing to wash out of his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to shake his head or rub at his eyes.

“Oh god,” Fizz wrapped his arms around himself, gripping his shoulders as tightly as possible. He leaned his back onto the wall, slowly sliding down until he sat on the floor. It was obvious what was going to come from the situation. All of it was a trap, a ploy set up by the smiling, ghoulish automaton that resided at the uppermost floor of the company. While tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, he refused to let himself sob just yet.

Something logical was tugging at his nerves. There had to be a way to at least appease everyone until he could make a proper run for it. Although it would be the best option, it wasn’t really the safest (if there ever even were any safe options when trapped in the capitalistic, soulless, cannibalistic corporate hellhole.) Drive that stirred up within him that wasn’t going to allow Fizz to let Ego think he wholly won the fight just yet.

Yes, even if Dr. Fizz let himself get blinded by the false promise of safety and money for a while, he knew what he had to do to atone for it. Play the little game and buy some time. Surely Nemesis and Nickel would notice how long he’d been gone for already. They would know in an instant and come to at least help with reinforcements. And of course there would be Test Tube and whoever she’d managed to get all buddy-buddy with. She was a strong, intelligent person and Fizz wouldn’t expect anything less than Ego’s body being torn limb from limb by her. Or would they go about it in a different way?

He shook his head, pulling himself from the image of his regretfully newfound ‘boss’ being completely and undeniably annihilated from the world.

Through the small windows of the elevator, he could see now that there was no natural light, only the bright fluorescents from the roof of the elevator. He had begun to reach the underground levels of the facility. There were some light jazzlike passages that ventured through his eardrums as some sick attempt at jostling his sanity about like a small, helpless creature in a cage. He was almost thankful that it masked his jittery breathing that had his lungs hitching every few seconds. Finally able to catch his breath, he pushed on the wall, hoisting himself up to his feet and standing upright as he watched the numbers on the elevator slowly shift and warp.

B1. B2. B3. B4.

Crawling further and further until it finally reached floor B10 . While he had no clue if there were any floors after that and he couldn’t find the ability within himself to ever care about it until it was possibly asked of him.

He held his breath as the doors slid open, revealing a large metal door.

Slowly, the doors opened before him, allowing white steam to spill towards him. Granted he did cover his mouth and nose, not wanting to risk anything. His eyes trickled to the ground, towards a large black arrow that pointed inwards into the large room that was illuminated by nothing but bright red.

He turned back to the elevator, having sudden second thoughts, but it was too late. The elevator had swiftly begun its ascent, displaying that it was already back to the ground level of the building. And by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to stop by again any time soon.

Looking back at the large hallway in front of him, he forced himself forward. He took heavy steps into the hall, looking up at the roof where multiple large nozzles that looked similar to large shower heads loomed above his head, leering down at him. Then behind him, the doors creaked shut so as to swiftly lock him in the large hallway. Though he could only stand and watch.

From the wall extended an arm, carrying a white jumper with a matching helmet, goggles, and face mask.

“Ah,” He sighed to himself. “Decontamination chamber…” At first he hesitated, then quickly slipped on the provided garments and gear 

Above him the showerheads hissed, spraying him with a pressurized liquid and drenching him, then spraying him with a huge gust of air like gnashing teeth. Though he didn’t feel a burn, merely just soft pressure that pressed against his suit and the protection he sported through the strict sanitization regiment. He stood there with his arms awkwardly extended out to allow for the chemicals to continue to spray him, scraping at the garments that crinkled loudly in his ears.

Then, after a few more seconds, the sprays stopped, allowing for Fizz’s ears to settle as a sigh of relief aired from his parted lips.

Interrupting him however was the opening of another set of doors, creaking open to display a large, white room. A palpitation in his chest, an awareness that his heart had sank so deeply it left his body feeling chilly.

The room was very reminiscent of a hospital, yet lacked any air of care or concern. No nurses, but scientists who hastily ran back and forth between each other with bags full of who even knows what.

The walls were lined with windows that peered into larger examination rooms. Hundreds of scientists with tools that poked and prodded at things that seemed to take the shape of eggs. Their insides glowing bright white, and shining like little stars. That light had been wavering and warbling under the sharp instruments that the scientists used to get a better look at it all. The workers that were fiddling with the creatures were also equipped with the same sagging equipment that Dr. Fizz put on in the decontamination hall. Even the gloves were so heavy and thick that they looked like they were specifically crafted to prevent burns.

“Dr. Fizz?” Standing before Fizz was the figure of some oddly familiar stranger. While he could barely make out the face from the equipment covering him, he could very well make out who’s voice it was that called out from behind the mask.

“Zoetrope?”

The doctor could barely believe the man in front of him, holding large tongs that oozed and steamed with bright fluid that inched and gravitated down and down, onto a tray in front of him that he held beneath the tongs to catch the fantastical substance that sizzled as it hit the metal. Sounds of the other experiment rooms and the sizzling and hisses of pipes and machinery seemed to fade away as Fizz watched with a horrified expression, keeping his eyes locked on Zoetrope as he placed the tray and tongs down on a nearby table. He waved a hand to the other employee in the room, who then saluted with a mere finger and began continuing where Zoetrope left off, dissecting the creature further.

“Well this is quite the unfortunate set of circumstances we’ve found ourselves in, huh?” Zoetrope chuckled, his speech slightly muffled by the mask. “You look way different than how I last saw you.”

Dr. Fizz could only scoff at the nonchalant greeting. “What’s going on down here?”

Zoetrope sighed in response. “Quite a lot to explain yet not a whole lot of time,” he brought a hand to Fizz’s back, making the doctor slightly jump at the action. “I can either throw a whole bunch of words at you that you wouldn’t grasp due to your unfamiliarity in the field, or I can give it to you straight.”

Nothing was straight about anything anymore. Fizz narrowed his eyes at the guiding man with a new instinctive sense of suspicion. Yet he’d grown tired of having theatrics displayed in front of him, his psyche had grown weary over the course of the past few hours. So his throat quivered as he spoke out to Zoetrope. “Just rip the bandaid off.”

“We’re using aliens as an energy source,” Zoetrope pat Fizz’s back as they reach a large doorway. He began leaning into a scanner, pushing his goggles up to the screen, as well as allowing for his card to be scanned for further measure. “‘Shimmers,’ as Ego likes to call them.”

“Shimmers…” Fizz trailed off, in utter disbelief. “Is that what those creatures are in those rooms?”

Zoetrope hummed with confirmation, swinging open the doorway to a large, suspended platform walkway. It was dim, only lit with low orangish lighting that came from god knows where.

“How big is this facility anyways?” Fizz asked. He was getting sick and tired of all the walking— Which was surprising since he himself was quite fond of exercise. “And how? I can barely comprehend it.”

“Sorry for quoting the big man upstairs but ‘time is money,’” Zoetrope allowed for Fizz to begin walking down the platform first, then catching up upon double checking that the door was locked behind them. “And he chose to use the money for his own stuff without any restrictions. Plus we need it for the aliens.”

At that, Fizz raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me for all of the stuff I can’t seem to retain, but I still don’t understand.”

Zoetrope was silent for a few minutes, allowing for only the echoes of their footsteps to emanate throughout the seemingly dimly lit, endless metallic space. And after what seemed like decades of hesitation, Zoetrope leaned closer to Fizz, speaking low as if he didn’t want to be heard by any outsiders. “It isn’t feasible to continue building spaceships to acquire the Shimmer eggs.”

“Pardon?”

“All that time and energy would be wasted. And before you bring up the idea of reusable rockets, that would be difficult as those are mainly meant for lower atmospheres. Plus Ego didn’t approve of the idea of having to constantly maintain repairs every mission…”

Fizz gulped. That Ego man was an oddball for sure, if you chose to ignore the insanity that came alongside it. He opted for bigger and better yet at the same time wished for no time to be wasted. What sort of system did he have at play here? Both bigger and better require such time and dedication. It practically made Fizz’s head spin.

“Not to mention we’ve already almost completely wiped out the Shimmer species,” Zoetrope added. “Scouring the ends of the universe would be difficult.”

“Of course,” Fizz slowly nodded, “it's the prey's first instinct to run and hide, of course.” He felt like absolute scum for even being in this situation.

Finally the two of them reached another door. Zoetrope repeated the unlocking ritual that he displayed at the previous doorway, then helped Fizz into the new room. “You can take off your equipment for a while here. There’s an additional exit that we can leave through that way we don’t have to go through the dissection sector again.”

Dr. Fizz tilted his head as he watched Zoetrope tug off his own gloves, equipment and masks. “Are you sure?”

“Nothing to contaminate here. Everything’s behind glass and only touched by officials with highest security. And… Sometimes Ego when he wants to sightsee our progress with the technology.”

“The MePhones right?” Fizz asked before yanking his goggles off, blinking rapidly and wiping the fog off of his own glasses. As he put on his glasses, he noticed Zoetrope smirking with his eyes squinched knowingly. “The technology is the MePhones?”

“Not necessarily,” Zoetrope sighed. “Though it utilizes sort of the same energy source as the phones. Which is…” He turned, pointing to Fizz expectantly.

Acquiescing, Fizz tilted his head. “The Shimmer energy?”

“Bingo.” Zoetrope gave a stern thumbs up. “Everything created by us is formatted around the Shimmer energy here. Everything with it is remotely under our control. Everything is connected.”

Fizz reluctantly followed Zoetrope into another room, lined with scientists in coats with large headphones at panels, quickly swiping their fingers along tablets and screens with one hand and tapping at keyboards and buttons and turning dials with the other. They moved unsynced yet with such precision that Dr. Fizz almost thought that they themselves were androids or specially made MePhones. Yet they were just as human as he was, and they seemed laser focused on the task at hand.

“The synthetic biology department has worked wonders, as you’ve seen in that area with all the dissection and such,” Zoetrope fanned his hand quickly towards the hall where they came from. “This is where the big dogs play!”

Along the wall was a long mirror, showing three empty rooms with one chair in the middle of each of them.

In the first, there was a man sitting, with bright yellow hair and a green turtleneck sweater. Passed out completely. Blood stained his shirt and, from what Fizz could tell from all the way back, his fingers had also been completely drenched in the brownish color of old blood.

“Who’s that?” Fizz pointed to the man. While he looked a little familiar, he also looked different. A little uncannily similar to someone that was just on the tip of his tongue.

Zoetrope snickered. “Ah don’t worry about it. He’s merely just a prototype that Ego suggested we create. He’s been obsessed with our projects lately…” With that, Zeotrope smirked slightly, yet not enough for Fizz to worry. At first. “Want to take a closer look?”

While Fizz really didn’t want to make himself sick with what was going on in this company, he had to steel himself and prepare himself. He knew being a whistleblower would bring these kinds of situations, especially since he had an oath to uphold. The ethics in this place were down the shitter.

So he stepped forward after some back and forth with himself, standing closer to the glass to get a better look.

“Alright people!” Zoetrope clapped. “Just in time for Carcerem testing! Let’s try this again alright? From the top now!” He pointed, rolling his hand in circles to further direct the employees’ focus. “Eyes peeled, locked on those bio stats now!”

From the other side of the room, a few workers began shouting many calls that Fizz really wished he didn’t understand.

“Body temperature not too hot, not too cold— Stagnant in perfect temp.”

“Pulse rate is sufficient yet shows signs of an abnormal heart rate. Oxygen?”

“More than enough oxygen. Respiration rate can confirm signs of hyperventilation.”

Before him, behind the glass, the man-thing twitched. Its body twitched before leaning forward, falling to the ground and catching itself with its hands and knees. It gripped at the concrete for dear life, bringing its hands closer to itself and leaving deep claw marks in the solid ground beneath it. It seemed to be shouting something, but it was so muffled that Fizz could only come to the harrowing conclusion that the inside of that cell was definitely soundproofed.

A hand lowered onto Fizz’s shoulder, making him jump in response.

Beside him was Zoetrope, looking off into the cell with wonder. “We can backdoor each colony of the Infusion X directly and basically hotwire it to our own commands. Basically overtaking anything it inserts itself into.” He pat Fizz’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “Could basically implement thoughts of our company and technology into people’s brains to impact their thoughts. Persuade them to buy it without having to waste more money on advertisements.”

Fizz side-eyed the man beside him, his eyebrows folding with worry. “The… Ethics of that are—”

“Can’t worry about that when you’re making a masterpiece, buddy.” Zoetrope finally rubbed his hands together excitedly.

Fizz took a slight step back. “I-I don’t think—”

Zoetrope grabbed Fizz’s cheeks tightly, pulling him closer to the glass. “Watch.”

Against Fizz’s own will, he watched the sight before him. The man’s messy hair whipped around as his body twitched and flailed. Muffled screams of agony erupted from the deepest chasm of his chest. His breathing looked ragged, and from his mouth came pure, glowing liquid. Steaming as it splattered against the ground, burning and pooling beneath him.

Fizz recoiled in disgust at the sight.

“It can reproduce,” Zoetrope sighed. “Albeit in a less than optimal way. We wouldn’t want to hurt our customers too much or else they would stop funding us. So we’re rebuilding some old machines and Meeple products to help with creating more!”

“O-Obviously…” Fizz looked down, avoiding the sight before him. “Holy shit,” He muttered to himself as Zoetrope motioned for him to follow once more.

The next room over had the same sight.

Rows of engineers fiddling with screens full of statistics and numbers that Fizz had no context to, stuff he didn’t understand. Yet it set him on edge, worrying with bated breath to see just what else they had in store.

A large, metallic ring towered behind the glass. Enough to probably fit an entire cargo of items if needed. Just the sheer size of it made Fizz feel small, much like an ant looking up at the towering beings above. Though something tugged at him inside, a sense of abysmal respect. The feeling was morbid, and this sort of dedication was something that he could find himself unfortunately admiring.

“Janus!” Zoetrope widened his arms, displaying the ring. “A gateway we’ve been working on tirelessly! Endlessly tinkering away at this gate!” Zoetrope sheepishly laughed. “Well, I wanted to call it a portal but Ego suggested that it was too fantastical. So I guess we call it a gate now!” His eye twitched.

“Portal?” Fizz scoffed. “For…”

“Shimmers!” Zoetrope leaned against the glass. “Until we can get it working in, say, the next few months, we’ll be using our own MePhones and other things to help spawn more of the chemical compounds. Then when this bad gal’s up and working, we can work on bigger and better things,” Zoetrope snickered. “Since the Shimmers in this reality have been practically picked clean—”

“No! No.” Fizz raised his hand, cutting Zoetrope’s ramble short. That was enough of that for him. “You can’t just throw synthetic biology and the absolute balls to the wall ethical experiments at me and then expect me to fully believe that you’re dabbling in the idea of alternate realities.” He chuckled a bit. “You said that he suggested the idea of fantasy is too far out of reach but what you’re doing is going to cause the end of the fucking world.”

“Pardon?” Zoetrope tilted his head, his smile faltering slightly.

Fizz sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You ever wonder why scientists only stick with analog black holes? To keep it contained. And away from them! Because black holes are usually, by what I recall, very dangerous and finicky and unpredictable!” He glanced at the ring, towering behind the glass. “You can’t just do this without testing it first. Years of testing— Hell, decades even.”

“Well what do you know anyway? You’re just a doctor…” Zoetrope shrugged, angling his eyes in a disapproving manner. “Well, a doctor and a spokesman.”

“Too dangerous,” Fizz waved his hands. “You’re going to kill everyone in this building if you ever boot that machine up.”

“That’s why we haven’t!” Zoetrope gave a cheeky thumbs up. “We care about safety.”

Yeah. Right. Of course they cared about safety… That’s why they were tormenting a man to puke up whatever that shit was in the other room. That’s why the CEO is holding him hostage and keeping him as some sort of toy to become a monstrosity at the uppermost floor of the building. That’s why they seemed to be planning to literally take control of people’s heads.

“What a joke,” Fizz groaned, “What you’re doing is essentially throwing a dart at a dartboard that will explode if you hit any spot other than the hair-thin bullseye.”

Zoetrope scratched his chin. “I suppose so? But what is progress but not taking chances.”

Disgust rose within Fizz’s throat. He didn’t recognize this man anymore. “Aren’t you scared, Zoetrope?”

For a minute Zoetrope fell silent, glancing towards the floor before turning away. He kept quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more in a slightly shaky tone. “I’m not scared at all.”

Fizz stepped forward and grabbed Zoetrope by the shoulders, spinning him around. He held the man tightly, even shaking him a little bit. “At least tell me you understand just what the hell you’re doing. You used to be a movie director for god’s sake and now you’re meddling with the laws of physics and time.”

Zoetrope’s eyes widened, dumbfounded at the scene he’d been inserted to.

“Answer me.” Fizz muttered, shaking Zoetrope even more. “I need a verbal response. And look me in the eyes when you say it so I know that you won’t backtrack later.”

Their eyes finally met. Fizz could see no light, no life. Only wanting within them— Pure need. Anything to slap his name onto if it impacted the world, or left some sort of impact. Whether famous or infamous, he’d strive to get it.

“I do what I do willingly,” Zoetrope grunted lowly and firmly, his arms shifting as he tried to wriggle out of Fizz’s grasp. “Th-Though can you say the same, whistleblower?”

Immediately Fizz’s grip tightened.

“I know you’re only here to leak information. Hell I was doing that at first too,” Zoetrope’s eyes remained stagnant, burning holes through Fizz’s own. “But when you go on that stage. When people give you a grand applause as you step out in front of them on that stage… Hell, I have no fucking idea what half of the words in the documents I’m given mean, but the thrill and adrenaline of doing something to leave a mark on the world gratifies me so,” His voice trailed off with a chuckle. Claiming to be satiated, yet his chuckle had been dripping with a devouring pit of pride.

And he continued; “It might be wrong but I can truly understand where Ego comes from. Even when he scares me I find myself admiring him. Truly a puppeteer of the ages, pulling the strings so gently and elegantly, webbing the flies so tautly for simply a drop of attention.”

“So you see through him, yet say nothing?” Fizz loosened his grasp on the man’s shoulders.

“If I say something I would be killed immediately,” Zoetrope muttered, shushing Fizz delicately. “Don’t make that mistake, Fizz.”

The two stared at each other. Fizz stunned in disbelief, and Zoetrope smiling with exhaustion.

“And what of those scientists at those desks?” Fizz turned, looking at the workers whose vision had been glued to their desks and working the entire time.

Zoetrope snickered. “...MeDroids. Very hyper realistic, are they not?”

“And Carcerem?”

“MeDroid as well.”

“He looked… Familiar.”

Zoetrope nodded. “Yes. Steve Cobs.”

Fizz felt weak. “Of course… Right.” He glanced back to the portal in front of them that stood behind the glass. “Rebuilding him after his suicide.”

“Suicide… Oh. Right.”

The two stood awkwardly, listening as the MeDroids tinkered and clicked away at their screens, fading and echoing into obscurity between them and beyond. And in an odd way, Fizz felt less alone.

Chapter Text

Desire died last night.

Though, in the morning she slowly sat up, rubbing her eye softly. Gentle with herself for the first time in a long time. There was a more vibrant feeling within her. A peace, something that had warmed her; that radiated outwards from her core to her limbs and fingertips. Expanding outwards. Something that was hers for once. Everything was hers.

She looked at her wrists, examining the old scars that scattered along the fake flesh, and stared at the absence of green. It was darker. Oil. A fuel that she hadn’t felt in a while, something that felt like taking a deep breath of fresh air in the outside plentifully planted with greenery. Rich comfort, a thankfulness that the garbage inside of her had been fully removed.

Her brows furrowed, turning her face to a twist of remorse as she ghosted her fingers along the scars on her wrist from past scuffles and her past self.

Her past self.

That past self, that had no self. Did that make any sense at all? As her very self had been syntax yet no semantics. Much like DNA, a sequence of words and codes stringed together in various degrees that she had begun to scramble and mix around and reorganize as quickly and hastily as possible just to figure out what felt right. Though, when finding something she thought she found comfort in at first, it always ended up failing her just a few moments later. Those senses of selves, in the past, tried on like outfits and paraded around like fast fashion.

A most recent one being someone short tempered and distant. Avoiding personal relationships.

Though, that was the one thing she knew for sure: She felt very uncomfortable befriending others, or even talking to people. Not out of anxiety, but because somewhere within herself she felt unworthy of it. After that day where she found out she had been built to resemble a bubbly personality, a friendly and extroverted person, it all came crashing down and destroying the mirror which she stood in front of in the process. Thus, she could no longer look at herself without seeing many cracks, spreading like the black veins that branched around her wrists like permanent, inky tattoos along her skin that reminded her of some time before.

“Would you be alright with this one?” Ego turned the laptop, displaying a face on the screen. A blueprint model displaying a new face for Desire to wear. His voice was gentle and warm, like a slowly roasting fire. “I know we’ve gone through so many different models already but I just want you to understand the amount of options you have.”

“I guess so,” Desire shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll grow into it or whatever.”

Ego frowned at her. “Listen, Cobs won’t let me change anything else after you guys get these modifications. I need you to be absolutely sure that you want this face.”

“Do whatever you want. I really don’t care.” She felt a little guilty for putting him through so much trouble— Ego had only been an employee for a few months, and he already looked way more stressed out than he’d ever been because of her.

He drummed his fingers along the top of his small cubicle desk. Finally he sighed, and his tone had grown so oddly and hauntingly cold. “You need to start sticking up for yourself more, nobody’s going to want to keep you around if you keep that sad sack act up.”

Desire turned her body to the side, throwing her legs over the bed and placing her feet onto the ground to push herself up steadily. While her stomach did feel a little tight from the nerves, she trudged her way out of the bedroom.

She was taken aback by the sudden shift in demeanour. “What the hell?”

Ego sat back in his chair. “I’ve been doing all of these things for you and the others ever since we left yet not once have any of you said ‘thank you,’ or even acknowledged how much I’ve done.”

Once again, Desire felt the breath leave her chest as she could only utter out once more; “What the hell, Ego?” This was not him. It felt like he’d been replaced by someone callous and uncaring. This was not the man who would comfort Cupidity softly if she had a stressful day of being in front of many cameras, nor was it the same guy who would embrace Edacity gently when he’d find out a member of his church had passed.

“Why the surprise?” Ego scoffed. “You do this every time. You can never decide, and always leave it up to me to clean everything up for you,” he leaned forward and turned his laptop back to himself, beginning to type away. “Must I remind you of the person who wrote your resume for Meeple in the first place?”

She felt her chest ache once more, remembering that shift in behavior. Cursed to always sense some sort of shift in tone, or notice the slightest change of demeanor yet not be confident enough with herself to point it out. Though, would anything have changed?

Desire balled her hands to fists. “I won’t raise my voice because we’re in a crowded office and that would be so embarrassing for not only me but you,” she gritted her teeth, “but I swear it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” He shook his head. “You barely know yourself. I, at the very least, know what I want to be.”

Sitting at the dining table was Bot, chopping away at a large stack of pancakes while flicking through their phone.

While the sight of the phone made a shiver creep through her spine, yet as soon as Bot looked at her, a smile curled on their lips. As well as her own. Bot waved welcomingly to her, inviting her to sit at the table across from them.

“It’s not raining this morning,” Desire spoke quickly, “meaning I can be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Bot tilted their head. “Well, can you at least eat breakfast and talk to me first? I want to know more.”

For a split second Desire squinted. “Know more about…?”

“You.”

She finally brought herself to pull the chair out and sit down, all while avoiding even merely glancing at the food that Bot had been eating. She wasn’t hungry at all and she didn’t want to feel sick before she left.

“Obviously you’re not human,” Bot started. “Like me. You don’t have to tell me exactly what happened, but I want to know how you feel now that we got that stuff out of your system.”

Desire rubbed the back of her hand and chuckled. “I do feel better. Like I can think clearly. Like I can actually think for myself.”

“For yourself, meaning you felt like you didn’t have control right?”

She looked up at Bot, who was slowly eating the pancakes and waiting for Desire’s response. Beats of silence before Bot spoke up again. “The way we word things can share much more than we want. So, do you feel like you’re more free now?”

Desire, without a second thought, nodded. “I feel like… I can be myself. But I think that’s difficult given just how long I had to deal with that stuff being inside of me and fogging my thoughts up.”

“You’re caring and careful,” Bot rested their arms on the table. “Shy, from what I’ve experienced already.”

She sighed and placed her chin in her hands. “Would it be mean of me to say that I’m just tired of people telling me what I should be? I thought it would help but it hasn’t.”

Bot thinned their lips immediately, glancing to the side and sighing through their nose heavily, as if something had been weighing on their shoulders as well. The quiet grew and grew, until Desire ran her fingers through her hair and quickly shook her head in annoyance.

“Truth is that I’m really really scared. I’m so tired. My body hurts all the time, and sure I slept so comfortably but I feel like it’s taking this weird physical toll on me too…” She looked at her calloused hands, at the branching ink beneath her skin. “People can decide what they want to be— What they want to do. And I’m stuck here with my only goal in mind being to kill someone. Someone who I used to care about who’s fallen off the deep end.”

Bot’s eyes widened, yet softened. “I’m so sorry.”

She was getting a little sick of smelling the pancakes, but felt an odd comfort in it. “I know I probably sound crazy for that one, but please just promise me you won’t ask questions about it alright?”

“You can trust me.”

Ego flipped through the clipboard, scanning the documents quickly. He’d always been a reader. Definitely read stuff faster than the other ones could. Not to mention he’d been holing himself away lately. The circles under his eyes were darker, and he even grew some weird scraggly beard at his chin that he, for some reason, refused to shave. He was quite unkempt. It was unusual for the new Ego.

“Ego?” Desire played with her hair nervously, side eyeing the table of hospital instruments that rested next to her on the chair. “I’m not a big fan of needles actually. Isn’t there a way to take that stuff in pill form or something?”

He raised an eyebrow and peered up from the clipboard with a disapproving frown. “Desire you’re an adult. Please just get a grip already.”

The sterile whiteness of the room was already haunting enough, but the glowing green goo that stuck in the barrel of the syringe was making her chest ache even more. “Right.” She sighed and slowly slid her arms through the ringed restraints that were bolted to the arms of the chair. Ego sat the clipboard down and gently tightened the restraints.

As he turned to snap gloves on, Desire cleared her throat,

“Yes?”

“Can you hold my hand?”

Ego snapped his head back to her with his eyes furrowed down, frowning with a wildly confused expression plastered upon him. “Hold your hand?” His voice had a small chuckle to it; An awkward laugh to possibly mask the absurdity of the sudden request.

“I’m scared.”

His eyes flickered with a familiar softness as he stared at her own worried expression. Then he glanced at the glowing syringe in his left hand, his gaze lingering a little too long. It looked like something rested on the tip of his tongue, as if he was about to speak out something. She could have sworn she saw his lip tremble. Then, after a brief moment of silence, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath for himself, as if he had steeled himself.

He let his right hand securely intertwine fingers with Desire’s. “You can trust me, okay? All of you can.”

Desire felt arms around her. Wrapping around her, like a blanket. A warm blanket. Like the blankets she had just woken up from, from when she opened her eye and saw the warmth of the sun and was able to appreciate it for even just a little bit— From this morning.

Bot was at her side, hugging her tightly and bringing her close to their own body. “You were ‘gone’ for a moment. Sorry, I love to give hugs.”

She could feel tears.

“Don’t worry about finding yourself immediately, okay Des?” Bot brought her into an even tighter hug. “Self discovery isn’t about how quickly you can find yourself, but it’s about the journey you take. It’s the choices you make, big or small. They add up, and while some of them may be tough, it’ll grant you so much personal insight.”

“What if the day never comes?” Desire muttered. “I keep remembering bad things and it’s making my progress come to a screeching halt.”

Then, Bot leaned back and kept their hands on Desire’s shoulders, looking her directly into the eyes, in a way to let her know that they were being truthful. “And so it may never come. It never does. People never stay stagnant. That’s what being human is about. It’s not all ones and zeros, absolutes or nothings like some might have you believe. It’s about constantly growing and adapting. Just listen to your heart.”

Bot took their hands off of Desire’s shoulders and took a step back. “You should leave now.”

Desire’s heart sank for a moment at the sudden change of tone. “What?”

“Go,” Bot tilted their head. “Clover’s not going to sleep until the afternoon. I’ll tell her that you left without a word, okay? We don’t have to know anything else about each other. We can move on from this all, and you can grow from it without any regrets.”

As Desire’s heart steadied, she understood exactly what they meant. Bot meant no harm at all. The two of them shared a long look, and then Desire finally found the strength to stand up.

So she did.

She stood up.

And she pushed herself through the dining room and into the hallway where the front door stood in front of her. It gated her away from the outside world. It made her hands shake a little bit. Whether it be anticipation or anxiety, she could of course figure that out later. The pieces of that puzzle weren’t really needed at the moment. All she wanted to do was follow through with riding the wave until she made it to the shore. So she turned back to Bot, who was standing at the other end of the small hallway with a smile.

Desire spoke to them. “One thing that I know about myself is that I don’t really like saying goodbyes.”

With a giggle, Bot nodded. “Of course. We don’t have to say that then. But, I will say this: Hello, Des.”

She tilted her chin down a little, trying to hide a smile. “My full name is Desire.”

Bot also tilted their head down, matching Desire’s motions. “That’s a good name. It fits you, Desire. It’s nice to finally meet you. Let’s go out for a drink in the future to talk more. When I have more time, of course.”

She could only chuckle in response. “And I’ll order my own coffee.” She turned back to the door and held the handle tightly, slowly turning it and opening the door. The sun leaked in, basking her in an amazing warmth as she stepped out of the front door and into the outside. She slowly shut the door behind her without looking back, and she looked out to the neighborhood that she found herself in.

It would be a long walk, but she swore she could see a small building with a familiar white and orange color palette sitting just beyond the horizon, nestled between other buildings.

It was already the afternoon and Cupidity was already so exhausted by the uncooperative cashier at the Meeple store.

Cupidity slammed the paper onto the desk and growled as she scribbled the cheap pencil along it, drawing a barebones sketch. “ This guy !” She shoved it in the clerk’s face. “He’s the CEO of Meeple. You literally work here— How do you not know him? His face is literally plastered everywhere here?!” She threw her hand back, gesturing to the walls. They indeed have multiple posters with Ego’s face displayed on them all, holding the newest ‘MePhone 4 ThrowBack’ model right above the new devices.

“Hey, C?” Neo tapped Cupidity’s shoulder. “I thought we were going to lay low…?” They whispered, tilting their hoodie over their face.

“Oh come on, this guy is literally high at work!” She grit her teeth and crossed her arms, exhaling sharply. “Reminds me of Temperance way too much.”

The store clerk looked a bit shaggy, and his eyes were admittedly a little pink around the scleras. “Ah… Sorry mate, I don't really like looking at him.” He chuckled and pointed. “Why’s he always smiling like that anyways?” He chuckled and let his head tilt a little lopsided.

Cupidity and Neo exchanged glances, with Neo rolling their eyes and nodding. With that, Cupid reached over the counter and snatched at his shirt collar with her claws. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play with me but you better sober the hell up before I get pissed off,” her eyes flicked down to his nametag, “Floor! Floory? What is that, a smudge of dirt at the end? I can’t— I can’t even tell.”

Neo sighed and leaned on the counter. “Look, Floory,” They folded their arms comfortably upon the table top, “We need you to really focus. Where is this headquarters located? Every address of it is wiped off of the internet. Don’t you guys have supply trucks?”

“Trucks…” Floory slurred.

“Yes!” Neo’s eye twitched. “Where… Do they… Go?” They kept their smile, yet Cupid could tell they had already also been losing their patience.

Though when Cupid looked back at the store clerk, she could see something off with his eyes. The veins had been visible of course due to the situation he was in, yet they were glowing with a familiar shade of green. As she looked a little closer, she felt her own veins run cold.

Floory spoke again. “Well to be fair we haven’t heard from him in quite some time, it’s all been Fizz this Fizz that, yadda yadda yadda.” His voice trailed off, and his eyes rolled to the side as he chuckled.

“This place is compromised.” Cupid muttered.

“It’s what?”

“Compromised, Neo! God dammit it’s compromised!” Cupidity tossed Floory to the floor, staggering backwards away from the table. “He’s got that— That chemical shit in him! The infusion!”

Neo tilted their head. “In him? Wouldn’t that be dangerous for a person?”

“He’s near…” Cupidity looked around, sweat already dripping down her forehead. “This was an elaborate trap.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Oh my god. Wasn’t it?!” She widened her stance, balling her fists tighter as she screamed to the roof.

Neo thinned their lips to a line and looked to Floory awkwardly. “Maybe we’re overthinking this.”

“NO!” Cupidity scratched at her scalp, screaming. “He’s going to fucking get us! Break it! Break all of it!” She swiped at a nearby stand, throwing the phones to the floor and stomping on them, allowing for more of the green glow to flow across the tile, puddling beneath her. “He’s been watching our every move, isn't that plain obvious?!”

Before Neo could interject, Cupidity grunted, picking up an entire shelf and throwing it at the wall, sending it shattering. She yelled out to nothing; “I’ll kill him! Seriously, I will!”

Neo wrapped their arms around Cupidity’s arms, picking her up a little off of the floor. She kicked her legs around, shaking her head. “Calm down! Calm yourself!”

As Neo tightened their grasp, Cupid began to take deep breaths.

“You’re paranoid.”

Cupid’s breathing slowed.

“He is not here, okay? We are safe. We will pull the wool over his eyes and strike at the perfect moment,” Neo leaned in, resting their chin on Cupidity’s shoulder. “He cannot control us.”

Cupidity slowly turned, looking at the unresponsive cashier. He was just standing there, leaning against the wall. He didn’t seem to have changed much. “Then why isn’t he moving? He’s just staring at us…”

Following Cupid’s gaze, Neo glanced over as well. “Okay well I will admit, that is pretty peculiar! Yet it isn’t, when you realize he is under the influence! But I understand he also has those green veins.”

“How many people did he get?” Cupid sighed as Neo let her stand upright on the ground. She splayed her hand over her face. “He looks like a literal zombie… How many people did he ruin?” She took a wobbly step forward, placing her free hand on the counter top. “Just like he ruined us .” She could have sworn she was about to cry, but the bell on the entrance door jingled. Instinctively and immediately, Cupid snapped her attention all the way around, ready to pounce with her claws by her sides. “Who—”

Desire looked at the two of them with a bewildered expression. And so, the two of them met her gaze as well, just as confused and stunned. The air between them all tightened.

“Desire!” Neo clapped. “You look so sweet!”

Between Cupidity and Desire there was anger. It was sour and it burned at the base of their tongues similarly. One of longing, and the other of rage. Though who exactly felt what had been a tricky subject to sort through. Within herself, Cupidity felt a spark of something ignite.

“I’m sorry,” Desire took a step forward, gently navigating around the broken Meeple products and slime. “I hurt you. I failed you. I shouldn’t have done any of that. You don’t have to forgive me but for now we can work together, okay? I won’t say another word.”

Cupidity felt her face grow a little warm. Perhaps embarrassment (of course it was, there was nothing else there in her chest), or pride. Though that sickened her, it was something more soft. The absence of the green in her skin, the tattoo-like ink scattering her wrists like she was struck by lightning. The raging ocean within the pit of her stomach had calmed.

“Cupid, please.” Desire took another step forward. “I promise after all of this is over we can go our separate ways. You can go back to Pepper and Cheesy, alright? I wouldn’t care. As long as we can do this together—”

In a flash, Cupid had dashed towards Desire and brought her into a tight hug, squeezing her so bad that she could barely even breathe. For a minute her arms flailed, but she slowly calmed upon seeing Cupid’s already running mascara.

“You stood up for yourself,” Cupidity chuckled. “I’m so proud of you.”

Desire froze for a moment, her eyes growing wide. Then, she finally found herself slowly wrapping her arms around Cupid, her breath quickening as the hiccups rose from her throat like sprouting flowers; Flowers that began blooming as the tears and sobs trickled down her cheeks to water the wails that buried deep within the shoulders of Cupidity. Cupid’s fingers tightened, holding Desire as close as possible, as she brought one hand to the back of Desire’s head, holding her securely, as if she was making sure she was real. And this was the real Desire. Someone who could finally go down the winding path and search for something to be hers. Her morals, her thoughts, her clothes and her words. It all was hers and it fit just like a glove.

Neo glanced away from the two that were sharing what was, obviously, some sort of emotional moment that they themselves had barely any context to. They grabbed Floory’s wrist and walked out to the back part of the store, forcing him to follow them.

“Heyyy,” Floory smiled. “I heard Cheesy mentioned? I know Cheesy, I love that little guy!”

Neo rolled their eyes. “Sure. Give me the keys, please.”

Floory giggled again and dug in his pants pocket, slapping the keys into Neo’s hand. “There you go!”

“Good,” Neo smiled, “thank you for complying! Now you’ll give us the directions to the HQ since you obviously know where it is, Ego.” Neo leaned in, looking into Floory’s eyes.

For a minute Floory’s smile dropped, he looked deep in thought. His voice remained the same, yet it did change. Somehow, the tone. The inflection. All of it including the accent remained Floory’s, but it just wasn’t him at that moment. “You didn’t want to scare poor Cupid away, did you?”

“We will kill you,” Neo leaned in, still smiling. “You won’t hurt them anymore.”

“I doubt you’ll even make it to the building in one piece.”

“You keep running, Ego.” Neo’s smile dropped. “Are you scared?”

Silence from the vessel. This brought a smirk to Neo’s face. “I really can’t wait to beat the shit out of you.”

Chapter Text

Cupidity and Desire sat in the front two seats of the pickup truck while Neo sat in the back, tightly gripping the back of Floory’s shirt. Cupid’s claws clicked against the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn green. It was quiet in the truck, as the four of them had no real idea where they were headed.

For a moment Desire hesitated. The ride had been more than a little awkward— Hell, what were you supposed to even talk about when you were on the road to what could possibly be the final moments of your life? She could feel the air between them all, so thick enough it was like wading through the dense snow left over from a blizzard. If these next few hours would even be their last moments, that is. Desire actually had a good feeling for once. The three of them, and this ‘Floory’ guy who Neo so desperately wanted to drag along for some reason, seemed to have it all going swell again.

“I never knew you could hotwire a car,” Desire crossed her arms and leaned closer to Cupidity.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” Cupidity snickered, going right back to that teasing attitude that she had with Desire before.

It really was like nothing had ever driven a wedge between the seven of them. All those memories of being trapped in that house with her friends, having to come up with new banter and comforting each other; Being so close to everyone yet losing them all so easily. They’d all been tied in a sticky web of fate that had only been meant for humanity, never to be toyed with by the bugs of machinery that draped themselves within the costumes of a spider.

Unweaving, unravelling, all of it coming undone.

“That’s weird,” Cupidity leaned forward, squinting, “there’s a hitchhiker out here?”

Desire tilted her head and looked forward, staring at the person. Usually hitchhikers stick their arms out and display a thumbs up of sorts, yet this silhouette had just been standing there, slouching. They were stepping in place loosely, wobbling in such a way that the only explanation that Desire could first come to was that they were possibly very drunk. They shifted their feet in the green, expansive field. “I don’t feel good about that. Hopefully the next car that comes by can help them…”

As the car drove past the person, Desire turned her head and watched, then glanced into the car door mirror. For a minute she could have sworn she saw something glowing, though she paid no mind. She’d been having trouble with her eye anyhow.

“I swear I’m seeing shit.” Desire chuckled

Cupidity shrugged. “We’ve all seen shit, it’s surprising you’re only experiencing side effects now.”

“No,” Desire turned to the driver, leaning back in the passenger seat. “I mean I could have sworn I saw that person with that weird Infusion X glow that we have—” Desire stopped herself. “Well, I had .”

Cupid turned her head slightly toward Desire to physically show that she was indeed listening, yet kept her eyes glued to the road. “You removed it didn’t you?” She sighed. “I do remember thinking those marks on your arms were tattoos at first.”

“I think it’s just because my skin isn’t used to having anything other than the X inside of me,” Desire let out a shaky chuckle. “Soon it’ll fade and I won’t ever have to think about what was in my veins again.”

Cupid slowly turned her head back to the road, pressing her lips to a thin line. “Must be nice.”

Before Desire could continue the conversation, Neo leaned in. “Hey you two, I really recommend keeping this conversation light,” They lightly yanked their head toward Floory, gesturing to him sitting with an oddly perfect posture. Straight and tall, with his hands in his lap and a smile. “We have a stranger coming along for the ride.”

Desire lowered her gaze and sighed. “Yeah.” She leaned against the window again, yet her eyes caught another person walking along the soft, grassy field that lay as far as the horizon, curtaining the lonely road that they drove along. It was a stark contrast to the other day, when it had been storming so bad that the sun had no chance at shining through the clouds. Yet now sunlight littered about, making Desire squint even just glancing outside.

For a few quiet minutes, the soft rumbling of the tires rolling against the road had wedged between them all, bouncing the car lightly whenever they ran over a slight bump in the concrete.

Thunk!!

Desire jumped, turning back to the front, watching as another person stumbled by the side of the car. “What the hell was that noise?!”

“That idiot threw a rock at the truck.” Cupid sighed. “I swear people are cruel for no reason at all.”

Desire looked into the mirror, watching as the person slowly walked towards the truck, then picked up the pace. They began to jog. Began to run. Sprinting.

She turned once more, facing the windshield window. “I think you need to start pressing on the gas some. Something isn’t right.”

“Way ahead of you girl,” Cupid’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as she leaned in slightly. The needle in the speedometer crept upwards, showing just how fast the car began to drive. While they were going at a sort of leisurely pace before, the car began to fully race down the road thanks to Cupidity’s focus. “This feels weird as hell.”

From the rearview mirror, Desire could see Neo shifting in her seat, glancing at Floory occasionally. Floory was still sitting still, yet his eyes seemed a little glazed over.

“Is he alright?” Desire raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t look completely here.”

Neo hummed and turned her head towards Floory. They let out a chuckle as they pat his shoulder, shaking him lightly. “He’s just a little silly is all!”

Desire lightly frowned. “He hasn’t spoken in a bit.”

“Maybe because we have been driving down a fairly straight road so far,” Neo raised a finger, “meaning that there is no need for our little global positioning system friend here to mansplain to us where to go!”

Cupid scoffed. “Neo you’re confusing her and you’re not helping me focus. Now all I’m worried about is why you sound so nervous.”

“Can’t a robot just be a little nervous about the situation at hand?” Neo chuckled once more, then sighed.

Desire looked at Neo with her eyebrows wrinkled. “Stop. Just stop. Seriously, dude.” Her voice was low yet gentle. “Neo, what's wrong?”

For a moment they shifted in their chair.

“Neo.”

More shifting.

Desire grunted and finally gripped the arms of the car’s passenger seat, turning back and beginning to shout. “God damn it , Neo if you don’t tell us right now—!”

Suddenly, Cupid shouted out in what seemed like pain and shut her eyes, slapping a hand over her forehead and gripping tightly. This happened in a snap, in sync with Floory, who also seemed to hiss in immediate pain and grasp at his hair and cover his eyes with the palms of his hands. The car swerved slightly, veering a little off of the road.

Desire yelped in response, leaning to the side and grabbing at the steering wheel and straightening it out, guiding the car swiftly back onto the road. She felt her chest ache, and her breaths became pants as she glanced at Cupid through the corner of her eye, watching as Cupidity leaned back in her chair, gripping her forehead now with both hands as she screamed at the top of her lungs, writhing in her chair, all while twisting and yanking the seatbelt with her turning body.

Immediately Desire slowly steered the wheel, further helping the car to park along the side of the road as it slowed. Finally coming to a stop on the side of the road, Desire immediately rushed out of the vehicle and ran around the front, yanking open the driver side door and reaching to unbuckle Cupidity as quickly as possible, carrying her out of the car and helping her stand in the grass. She watched as the veins in Cupid’s wrists blinked, the glow further expanding up her arms.

In the meantime, Neo had also gotten out of the car to help Floory stand, guiding him to the grass as he grunted and whined into his hands.

For a moment Neo and Desire exchanged a worried look, yet Desire’s was more on the disappointed side. She could tell Neo had been keeping something from them, but she knew that if she found out, it would only bring anger. And she didn’t need that right now. None of them did— So she left it.

Desire put a hand on Cupidity’s back, rubbing gently as she fell to her knees on the ground. Her claws dug into the grass, pulling up dirt and other soils beneath the layer of green. “It’s okay,” Desire muttered softly. “Breathe slowly.”

“I need it out of me,” Cupidity sputtered, coughing into the ground, “it hurts…”

“I know,” Desire rubbed her back.

Floory cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the comfort. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but there seems to be a crowd coming along!”

Desire shook her head with disbelief, then looked up to Floory. He was pointing down the road, and Desire’s gaze followed where his finger had been directing her to look. Indeed there was a crowd. A small crowd but enough to outnumber the four of them, a crowd of people with glowing green eyes and big smiles that matched Floory’s toothy grin.

For a moment Desire felt something shock throughout her nerves. That burning feeling through her chest, the pang of impending doom and danger that was all familiar to her.

“You’re kidding me.” Desire slowly stood up, taking a slight step back. “Floory?” She turned to look at Floory, who had grown static like a statue. She snapped her fingers a bit, then moved her hand in front of his face and snapped even more, trying her damndest to break him out of whatever the hell sort of fog his mind was in.

“You know,” Neo chuckled, “At first I thought he was just a little high, but it appears he’s under the influence of the Infusion X instead!”

Desire finally snapped, this time her head around to Neo, and shouted as exasperatedly as possible: “You have to be pulling my leg, Neo!”

Small mutters of curses spilled between Cupid’s groans and cries of pain as she staggered, stumbling to stand upwards and leaning on the car to support herself. “It’s getting worse by the minute, it’s going to start hurting more frequently too.”

“How?!” Desire tugged at her sweater, looking for a comforting position to help her hyperventilation steady out to softer, steady breathing. Yet that comfort never came.

For a moment Neo was silent, yet they soon sighed and looked to the ground. They shook their head lightly, as if they didn’t want to believe what they were about to admit, yet they knew it was true. Hell, they heard it from Floory himself. “He’s figuring out how to control it.”

In that moment Cupid stood upright, rolling her shoulders and stepping forward towards the crowd of people that grew closer by the second. Her fingers extended, the claws glistening in the sun. “He won’t be able to for long. I’m not letting that happen.”

“We can’t just kill strangers, these people had lives before this!” Desire clenched her fingers to tight fists, calling out to Cupid. “It’s not their fault!”

Cupid turned her head slightly back to Desire, yet refused to fully face back to her. “We have to make a wild amount of sacrifices for the greater good, babe.”

Desire shook her head. What an awful sentiment that had been drilled into their heads— While she had been on that train of thought before, she really didn’t like where that had gotten them. Especially him , who had begun sacrificing way more than needed for total control over the very people he knew supported him. She grew past it, and surely Cupid would too. It was only a matter of time.

Immediately a man threw himself to Cupid, who reacted right in time to scratch the absolute hell out of the man, leaving thick gashes through his face, neon glowing greens shooting from the splices of skin and flesh. Splattering onto the ground, followed by the thick thump of his body hitting the same ground right after. She widened each digit, stretching her fingers and allowing them to crack and pop. She shook her hand, throwing more flecks of the chemical around onto the ground. Dripping from her glittering pink claws that stuck to her fingertips.

Desire took a step back, noticing that in her peripheral vision, Floory had begun to try to run.

As Desire launched herself onto Floory to hold him down, Neo took a step forward right next to Cupidity, tightening the bun in her hair before she began to swing at the onslaught of glowing husks of what used to be conscious people, all smiling as they greeted their death by Cupidity and Neo’s very own claws and hands.

Every time Neo’s fists met contact with the jaws and temples of the now inhuman, a sickening crunch let out, ringing to the depths of Desire’s eardrums.

She held onto Floory tightly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep him still and unmoving. Though he was wriggling and grunting while attempting to free himself, there was no way he’d get out any time soon. The adrenaline within her was almost addictive, sending an abnormal strength through her body. If she wanted to, she could have crushed him to death at that very moment just out of pure anger at the entire ordeal.

“Seriously!” Cupid hollered as she slashed another person, then kicked them to the ground. “It’s like we never get a fucking break! Why is that?!”

Neo grunted out with both acknowledgement and pain as she swung another fist, punching someone in the chest. “I am so sorry! I knew it would have made you guys angry but I didn’t want to stress you all out further!”

“You knew that I was right!” Cupidity’s voice grew louder as she grabbed one of the vessels by the neck and lifted them up, shoving her claws through their chest, yanking out a glowing acidically green mass of ventricles and atriums, tossing it and the body to the ground without a second thought. “We could have at least been prepared for this if we had known!”

For a moment Neo’s shoulders loosened as she looked at her fists, dotted with the sickening lime along her knuckles and wrists from the slaughter before her. “I’m… I’m tired of making mistakes. I really am.”

“Now’s not the time, Neo!” Cupidity shouted, throwing an entire person into another in such a way that they toppled like dominos.

“I’m sorry!” Neo shouted, their fists buckled, allowing compartments within their knuckles area to slide open, crowning their knuckles with four stainless steel spikes. “I’m sorry for ever even building you all!” They took another swing, crying out many apologies that were barely even intelligible due to the sounds of skulls cracking, bodies thumping, and bloody green insides spilling. “I thought…” She chuckled as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I thought I was doing you all a favor! When he killed all of them at that hotel… I lost so much that year!”

Cupid stopped for a minute, huffing as her lips twitched to a frown. She tried to catch her breath in the short break. She turned to Neo, who’s shoulders rose and sank with each deep breath. Then, she looked to Desire, who was staring at Neo in horror and shock.

“I’m so sorry…” Neo tightened her eyes. “I should have known better than to bring any of you into this shitty, shitty world! I shouldn’t have played god— I’m no better than Fan! I’m no better than him at all, and I understand that!”

Floory seemed to stop writhing, falling still within Desire’s arms. He seemed to be trembling, and Desire could have sworn he seemed to be tearing up a little bit.

“There’s too many of them,” Cupid took a step back towards Desire, “Desire you have to shoot them.”

“What?!” Desire looked up. “B-But Floory—”

“Floory doesn’t mean shit right now!” Cupid screamed back at the blonde.

Desire dropped Floory, who still seemed to be trembling a little bit as he held himself. Though now, she had no cares about wherever he’d run to. Her own body began to tremble as she pointed a finger towards the thickening crowd of green eyes and bright smiles. The tip of her finger shifted open as she stuck her thumb up, using it to align her shot.

Her lips quivered.

She brought her other hand to her pointing hand’s wrist, trying to hold it steady as it slowly charged with a soft hum.

“Shoot!” Cupid shouted.

Desire didn’t want to. Her shaking finger gun began to let out a more static-like buzz.

“Desire, you have to shoot!” Neo cried out.

Though their screams were muffled within her mind, echoing so far away. Far behind the growing whirring, hissing, and small crackles in her hand.

“DO IT, YOU HAVE TO SHOOT THEM! KILL THEM!” Cupid barked out as loud as she could.

“I-I…” Desire felt tears welling in her eye. Images of her stomping on Test Tube’s body all that way back at the hotel flashed through her mind.

The image of her pointing it at Ballpoint Pen on that boat, and how Box had thrown himself and Ballpoint Pen overboard.

Memories of Microphone getting hurt as they had fused to be Caprice.

Desire closed her eye and began to shout back at the demands with a final, unpleasant yet honest rebuttal. “I can’t! I can’t! I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore!” She quickly threw her finger towards the sky.

A bolt of lightning snapped out of the barrel of her finger, shooting straight upwards to the sky and splitting a hole through a cloud that rested above the commotion. Following this was a loud crack from the raw electricity that cut through the air, leaving both Cupidity and Neo covering their ears and hunching over from the sharp gunshot-like noise. Pure energy had been sucked from Desire. She wobbled a little, falling to the ground as the tip of her finger shifted back into place.

The crowd slowly enclosed them, grabbing at Cupid’s wrists as she kicked them away to the best of her ability. Yet they kept piling up.

A hand gripped Neo’s shoulder, but she twisted theirself away. Stepping back they threw a fist into the creature’s chest. Yet they kept piling up.

“D-Desire!” Cupid continued to kick and swipe at the husks that grabbed at her wrists. “Neo!”

Desire panted as she fell to her side, falling to the side. Her body had been spent in its almost entirety, and she just needed time to recharge.

Neo extended a hand out, chopping with all their might at the necks of the things that attempted to yank her apart. They, as well, called out for both Cupidity and Desire.

But Desire felt nothing but weakness as her vision pulsed as she struggled to grip at the road beneath her in an attempt to ground herself.

And whizzing right above her were two pink streaks, striking the creatures square in the skulls in a flash. They fell to the ground, allowing for Cupidity and Neo to back up as quickly as possible, retreating to stand next to Desire, who had been on the ground farther back. Who had also begun to push herself up, confused at the sudden flashes of hot pink. While her first thought was that it was something Cupidity had done to stop them, it didn’t make sense given the fact it came from behind Desire.

Though as Desire finally sat up on her knees with Neo’s help, she turned backwards at the squealing of tires on the road. More shots rang out, hitting more of the creatures in the skulls, sending them falling over continuously. While it wasn’t much, it still dented their numbers a bit.

Two motorcycles came to a halt. One black one with a single person covered head to toe in black and red protective gear. The other was pink, with glittery lettering reading ‘Lady Cupid’ on the side, where two people hopped off— one dressed in dark purple, and the shorter one dressed in bright yellow.

The one dressed in purple pointed a pink pistol towards the crowd, continuing to shoot as quickly as possible into each of their skulls. The yellow shorter one took out a shotgun from seemingly nowhere in an almost comedic manner, and began pumping it as they filled the bodies with even more lead.

“You four need to back up, now!” The taller, black and red clothed person shouted from their helmet.

Before Desire could even piece together how she could respond to it all, she found herself being dragged by the arms by Neo, all the way back towards the motorcycles and tossing her behind them as cover. “Are you alright, Des?!” They shouted, checking Desire’s pulse and patting her cheeks. Desire only grunted in response, jumping at the sounds of the pistol and shotgun shots behind her.

She looked up at Cupidity, who was staring at the purple figure.

“She’ll be fine,” The black and red person grunted as they took off their helmet. Their hair was red near the roots, slowly fading to grey near the ends. They had glowing green veins extending along their face, around their eyes, that also gave off faint green and red glows. “We’re always fine. We bounce back easily,” Their voice was a little rough around the edges, and they angled their eyes towards Neo. “Isn’t that right, Test Tube?”

Neo cringed a bit. “N-Nemesis.”

They refused to acknowledge the conversation further, bringing out two butterfly knives and twirling them in their fingers to readjust their positions. “Just stay back here. We’ll reconvene in a moment.” They took off, running into the crowd and beginning a slaughter of the ages. Through what could be seen, each and every stab, slash and cut had been fueled by an itching and burning wrath. Precise yet messy, ducking when the other two people shot into the silhouettes of chemicals and piles of death.

Often the purple one would reload their pistol, yet shook it in agitation. Then she tossed it towards Cupid, who caught it perfectly, then turned to the yellow one and snatched the shotgun from their grasp and continued to shoot.

Cupid held the pistol in her hands gently, examining it. It was her old pistol that Ego had bought her when they had first found their way out. A pistol that she left for Pepper to keep to defend herself if she ever needed it. She looked up, watching as the yellow one took off their helmet, shaking their head as soon as they tossed it to the ground sloppily. “Pepper what the hell, that’s my shotgun! Aw man that was my shotgun, come on!” He pouted a little, leaning against the motorcycle with his arms crossed.

As soon as the final spray of bullets rained, Pepper huffed and tossed the shotgun to the ground, finally reaching for her helmet and holding it to her side. “Well now you can take it back, Cheesy.” She turned, finally facing the group. Walking closer, she faced Cupidity. Face to face, eye to eye. Bringing her to a sudden long, long hug.

Cheesy kicked at the ground, knowing he couldn’t interrupt whatever was going on. Though he took a quick glance to the man on the floor, Floory, and his eyes lit up a little. “Floory! Hey!” He waved and marched over to the man on the ground, who seemed to still be reeling from the entire thing. He quickly knelt down and patted at Floory’s shirt and pants, dusting off the dirt and grass blades that stuck to him.

Nemesis grunted out as they rolled their shoulders allowing the joints to satisfyingly crack. Then they turned back, facing Neo who stood up to look them in the eye. Nemesis then flipped the knives shut and placed them back in some holsters in their belt.

Neo croaked out, “Nemesis—” Before being interrupted.

“Dr. Fizz left and we hadn’t heard from him in days. He left with Apathy’s head,” they snapped their gloves off, exposing more green veins that trailed along to their fingers. “I knew exactly what was up.”

“How did you find us?” Neo tilted their head.

“Whatever the hell that lightning stuff was. It wasn’t natural, so we followed it,” Nemesis sighed. “I’m guessing that was… Desire?”

Above the seat of the motorcycle, Desire poked her head out, looking at Nemesis warily.

Nemesis grunted. “Guess so.”

Neo took a step forward. “We need to get to the HQ here, before Ego does anything else crazy. He’s taken control of Floory already. He’s going past money and straight for complete and total power now.”

Floory grunted in response, rubbing the side of his face. “W-Where even am I?”

Ignoring Floory’s question, Nemesis crossed their arms and sighed. “I really didn’t want to encounter that bastard again,” They shifted. “I can feel Vengeance getting irritated within me.”

“I-Irritated?!” Desire leapt up. “Ven chose to work with him— For all we know he’d betray us in a heartbeat!”

“You don’t know anything about what he’s done to me!” Nemesis shouted, a lighter voice overlapping his own. For a few seconds they calmed. “Manipulated him. Had Vengeance wrapped around his finger. Sure he was unforgivable for the stuff he’s done, but he’s keeping my body alive. And if needed, we would kill ourselves if it meant Ego pay for the shit he’s put us and others through,” Nemesis placed a hand on their chest, toward their heart. “Would you do the same, Desire?”

Desire gulped, gripping the seat of the motorcycle. All eyes had landed on her.

“I…” She looked down and shook her head. “I would have to think… about it.”

Nemesis scoffed. “Exactly.”

They turned to Neo, who also grouped with Cupidity and Pepper, beginning to talk about what to do next while Cheesy shouted at them while helping Floory to his feet. And Desire watched as she had grown a little more alienated by the minute.

Chapter Text

“I should have known better than to bring any of you into this shitty, shitty world! I shouldn’t have played god—”

At first Ego stood tall, his base arms folded low behind his back as he gazed into the monitor before him, providing a clear visual of Neo and Cupidity in front of him, with Desire’s arms wrapped around the camera. When Neo had begun to say those apologies, his smile remained as wide as ever. Though his eye twitched ever so lightly. Something welled in his eyes, yet he paid no mind.

The claws that rested on his shoulder blades, those claws that were once an inky black, had now slowly begun to grow a shimmer— a sparkling golden hue replaced the deep and dark claws as if they had caught infection. And that face that nestled on the back of his skull, the hair had grown an orangish sparkle as well, and it remained static with a familiar frown at all times. Turned away from the world that Ego faced.

In the drawer of his office desk that he yanked open, there laid a small, trusty revolver. Gold with a wooden finish. Seeing as he had been the only one who refused to adopt any weapons into his physical self, he carried the revolver along with him at all times. And of course, now was no exception.

He turned around on his heel and marched out of his office with purpose. With adrenaline.

“It’s almost too late,” He muttered to himself as he grew closer to the elevator, which had just so happened to open as if on cue for him to enter and press the button to go down and down deeper into the facility. He glanced at his watch on his base right arm, only noticing now that the face of it had been cracked long ago.

It was unlike him to not replace it right away.

So for a minute he smiled into the watch, staring not at the hands on the clock but at himself, the one that reflected back to him. How long had it been since he last spoke with Edacity? Or rather, to the others? No man needed a watch if time meant nothing to him. Watches were pathetic little things in the grand scheme of life.

As it’s been set across life, at the beginning of the stream of consciousness and awareness, one must watch the audience from the stage of mirrors, to look back at theirself as an examination and understanding through others eyes. To see his own.

Remembering this, he balls his golden claw to a fist and slams the wall of the elevator, his smile twitching.

Shhk-CRACK!

Ego jumped, turning quickly to face the large window that displayed the land outside of the elevator. A large shot of lightning shot up to the sky, illuminating the already blue sky with a bright white light as it cut itself through the fluffy clouds, ruining the perfect scenery he had always watched before. And he took a step forward, laying a hand on the glass, watching as the electricity dissipated slowly.

The corners of his lips tugged with anger, yet he still continued to press that smile forward as the claw dragged down the window as the sharp contact let out a harrowing screech. “They’re getting closer,” he chuckled. “But they won’t make it in time.”

As the elevator sank lower and lower, the chattering of machinery grew louder and louder.

And when it landed, when the doors opened, he walked with much of that familiar purpose. An almost spring in his step as he hummed to himself and invaded the laboratories. No decontamination, no sanitization, no protective gear. He let himself in, as he was the lord of the land.

As he squeezed through multiple scientists, who had their jaws dropped at the sight of him, he would push and move those who even bumped into him. His claws picking people up by the throats without second thought and tossing them to the side. They would fall to the floor either weak or deceased from the impact.

Yet no screams.

“Good work everyone!” Ego clapped as he continued to walk. “You’ve all learned that your fear does nothing but make me work harder! Congratulations! We’re all one step closer to our goal!” He chuckled to himself at the lack of fear from his newfound followers, his little ants in the glass ant farm.

Past the suspended bridge and into the room with the portal, he bust the doors open, denting them wildly as they hissed and screeched beneath the strength of what was now his claws.

“Zoetrope!” Ego snapped his fingers, glancing towards the man in the lab coat. He was standing next to another man with reddish hair, making Ego groan. “And Fizz, I suppose.”

“Yes sir?” Zoetrope clasped his hands together expectantly. “Did you finally think about that raise I asked about?”

Ego’s stare was unflinching. “You won’t need that raise anymore.”

“Huh?”

“Charge the portal, Zoe!” Ego pointed to the air, circling his finger. “We have to get it all right. All of it must be perfect! It has to be ready before our guests visit!”

Zoetrope and Fizz exchanged worried glances before shuffling in place just a little bit.

Ego took note of this immediately, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. He tilted his head to the side, ever so slightly. “What’s wrong, you two? Don’t tell me there’s something wrong with Janus!”

“Ego,” Zoetrope chuckled, “ Janus isn’t ready yet. If we run it now it could be catastrophic to not only us but…” His voice trailed off before he sighed. “We could experience side effects unlike any we’ve ever seen before, sir. We need, at the very least, a few more years just to continue to study the potential it brings us.”

Silence from the boss.

Zoetrope turned to Fizz again with another sigh, continuing to explain. “We don’t even understand the way time works. The way the multiverse works— This is way too much for way too little.”

Ego shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do, actually!” Zoetrope chuckled. “From the little bits and pieces I’ve been able to research on my own time, I’ve learned a lot!” His eyes softened as he caught a glance of the doctor standing next to him. “I thought taking risks were necessary but this is all just too much.” He looked at his gloves, then ripped his name tag off of his coat, tossing it to the ground. “I-I quit!”

A hand snapped towards Zoetrope’s throat in the blink of an eye. Shining gold, glimmering under the harsh light of the lab. While watching, Fizz gasps and stumbles back, almost falling from the shock yet catching himself on a table.

“You aren’t quitting,” Ego hissed into Zoetrope’s face, “none of you will.”

Zoetrope began to scratch at the claw that tightened around his throat, kicking his legs wildly.

“None of you have a choice anymore. You’re all going to become my little, insignificant instruments.”

“L-Let him go!” Fizz reached out a hand weakly, shaking like a leaf. “Ego please you can’t hurt him! He knows how to operate the entire thing— Please just let him go!”

Either it was the grasp on Zoetrope’s neck, or it was his stare, but the pain that shot through Zoetrope’s body was incomparable to anything he’d experienced before. Indescribably painful to a degree that he even wished Ego would just get it over with at that moment.

And Ego slammed Zoetrope’s body onto the desk multiple times, with his screams reverberating along the walls and mixing with the sounds of his bones cracking and the squelching of his blood that splattered along the table, chair, and floor. Though in the gruesomeness of the crimson confetti that littered the sterile white aesthetics, something clicked then began to whir.

Both Ego and Fizz’s attention snapped up towards the room with the portal— Janus. The lights inside shut off as the sound of an engine within the room harmonized with the whirring from the tabletop displays. Upon hearing this, Ego hummed as well, widening his fingers and letting Zoetrope drop to the floor before Fizz.

“Finally.” Ego sighed wistfully as he placed his hands on the glass, watching as the portal beeped and clicked. Lights from the metal blinked as through the center of the circle, a small green dot appeared. It was easy to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for. And Ego knew exactly. “All of my effort. Finally, finally, finally.”

“You’re cruel.”

Ego’s eyes shifted to the side, catching Fizz in his peripheral view, holding Zoetrope’s body tightly.

Fizz continued. “I don’t know why I even fell for your traps— I didn’t even do anything to help you… So why am I here?”

At that, Ego turned. “Because!” One of the golden claws extended with cracks and creaks, growing outward at the speed of light and gripping Fizz by the ankle. “You were the bait.”

Fizz’s eyes widened as he dangled upside down in front of the monster.

“My dear Fizz, you didn’t think I actually needed you to be spokesman right?” Ego let out a belly laugh. “Really that’s quite charming that you thought I’d refuse to be in the spotlight like this!” He gestured towards his body with the three free hands he had. “And thanks to you, the gang will all get back together! And with their extra parts I’ll have the strength to not rule over only this flimsy little universe, but another!”

Fizz shook his head. “D-Dimensions aren’t even a proven thing… Time travel isn’t a thing! None of this space shit is!” Fizz shouted. “The idea may be appealing but you’re going to destroy shit! What you’ve actually done is had your employees construct a bomb!”

“No!” Ego wagged a finger. “No, no, no! You’re finding yourself blind to the truth, doctor! I have an idea!” He clapped. “While the portal charges for the next few hours, let’s head back to my office. We’ll have a good, long talk about your future with this company…” He snickered, his giggles turning into echoing maniacal laughter as he dragged the man helplessly through the halls, both screams of fear and the screaming of laughter knocking things over.

“Come, Carcerem!” Ego shouted, slamming Fizz into the window with such force that it shattered. “You listen to me now, I’m the boss!” His cackles cut into Fizz’s flesh along with the glass that stuck from him like a pin cushion. “And release the MePhones or you’ll be reprimanded!

From the room, glowing yellow and green eyes burned through the darkness. The vague shape of a man with slime spewing and sputtering through his mouth as he stumbled and slammed himself against the walls, launching at full speed running after Ego and Fizz. All the way to the experimentation lab, all the way to the stairs and destroying even more precious property in the process— Ego had been careless with the body he’d been dragging, allowing it to knock and hit and smack anything and everything without worry.

Though Fizz remained resilient, only fading in and out of consciousness quickly. He could barely process his surroundings, especially when paired with the haunting cackles from the ghoul that had snatched him and dragged him up the stairs. At moments he could see the familiar lights of MePhones and other products. Blues, reds, greys, purples. Though the streaks of blurred colors were negligible in the moment, he found his top priority was to attempt to keep solid ground in consciousness.

“Isn’t this fun, doctor?!” Ego shouted, spinning him around and finally throwing him onto a long conference table. “My office is where the magic happens!”

The lights were flickering, engulfing all but Ego’s glowing eyes and smile. Barely visible were his golden claws.

Through his teeth, he hissed out a final command. “And you’re going to kill them.”

Fizz writhed on the table, grabbing at his head and attempting to straighten and balance his focus as his vision spotted from blurry to clear. He couldn’t even fully grasp what Ego was saying to him at that moment, as all he could make out was ringing from his head being slammed against a million things at a million miles per hour. He was surprised he could even think straight, which he quietly thanked the higher powers for. As long as he could make out his own thoughts, everything should be fine.

“Are you listening, ant?” Ego leaned in, gripping Fizz by the hair. “You’re going to kill them before they can even make it here. I need to keep Janus’ levels in check from my main server with administrative access.”

The doctor wobbled a bit, his eyes threatening to shut as blood dribbled out from his mouth, onto his lips and straight down his chin. He groaned weakly, spitting out even more blood right onto the table.

Ego furrowed his eyebrows with disgust. “Humans sicken me. You’re no exception,” He threw Fizz back onto the table by the chin, “You’re all miserable. It’s pathetic.”

Dr. Fizz crawled off of the table and hit the ground with a thick thump.

“Have you bore witness to the things that this universe recycles, doctor?” Ego placed his base hands on his hips as we watched Fizz push himself upright. Ego grew wildly amused at the sight. “Concepts such as primordial black holes look eerily similar to red blood cells. Isn’t that fascinating?!”

Fizz ignored him as he shuffled out of the office and fell to the floor, crawling to the elevator.

“And beings such as me can bring an end to the suffering of humans like a god !” His cackles filled the room, once more erupting a ringing through Fizz’s skull. “Isn’t that exhilarating?!”

Though Fizz finally found himself in the elevator, he pushed himself with all his might to press the first floor button. His eyes averted the sight of Ego’s office disappearing.

And the last sight he ever took in before his final breath was that of two motorcycles and a car, rushing down the road at almost impossible speed. And the last thought he ever breathed out, as his final breath, had been a small thanks for even the smallest hint of hope that the man at the top of the food chain would finally fall.

Chapter Text

The rumbling of the car on the road was anything but comforting for Desire, who sat stiffly in the passenger seat while listening to Floory, Neo and Cupidity all bicker with one another. About what? Desire wished she could care. It obviously wasn’t anything to do with her at that moment, so she found herself staring straight through the front windshield window, even glancing out of the side window to watch the grass roll by, or looking in the rearview mirror and catching a glimpse of Nemesis, Pepper and Cheesy on their own motorbikes. Everything around her had seemingly begun to fizzle out, fading away and expanding outwards from her vision.

She could have sworn she heard a familiar voice. A woman’s voice. Though she paid no mind. As there was no time for any more waterworks, she lightly shook her head and clenched her eye shut, running a hand over her bandaged side.

While Neo and Floory continued to argue, with Floory seemingly unaware of who these people were and where exactly he was, Cupidity took notice of Desire’s silence. While she was used to this kind of silence from the passenger, there was something off. Admittedly Cupidity was still a little irritated over the fact that Desire would have rather let her and Neo die before shooting those ‘zombified’ customers a few hours ago, she couldn’t bring herself to be completely mad at her. There was a concern or sorrow which could only be described as a deep sympathy, straddling the edge of empathy. “You know,” Cupidity spoke only loud enough for Desire to hear while the other passengers bickered, “we don’t hold that whole thing against you.”

“Hold what?” Desire asked in an instant. “Me almost killing you guys then watching innocent people get slaughtered right before my eyes?” She cradled herself. “I’m not the angry badass I used to express myself as, Cupid.” She let out a sigh, leaning back into the seat. “Isn’t that so hypocritical of me?” Her voice softened on that final question, her eye flicking up to the rearview mirror and silently watching Neo stare out of the car window.

Cupid’s eyes stayed glued to the road as she took a deep breath, then exhaled her frustration out and into the world, letting it flow away through the cracked open driver’s window. The idea of having to comfort someone made her nerves go haywire, especially with the Infusion X giving her a persistent ache that had been taking some of her focus. It wasn’t enough for any immediate concern, but she just couldn’t spread herself any more thin. “One day we all have to make a hefty decision on a whim,” Cupid muttered, “and often we make the wrong one.”

“I know,” Desire sighed.

Cupidity raised a finger yet kept her hands on the wheel. “Let me finish,” she nodded softly as Desire sighed. She continued, “We can’t all be perfect on the first try. Remember my modeling career? I let people push me around until one day something in my software snapped and I just wanted people to worship me.”

“What would you call that?” Desire tilted her head curiously. “You don’t feel like you know yourself. Is this common for humans? I’ve been told it is, but it’s so alienating and it’s difficult to explain.”

“You feel like you, your person, dissolves.” Cupidity explained, her voice as soft as satin. “For me it came in the form of realizing that I wasn’t myself. Realizing that the person who I was actually wasn’t real. It came to me in my head. I was back at Pepper’s house and meeting face to face with Salt.”

“I would have been scared,” Desire admitted with an embarrassed warmth dusting her cheeks. “I don’t like thinking about her .”

“All of us’ve confronted who we were supposed to be. What we actually were, I guess.” Cupidity chuckled. “I realized that we’ve mentioned it in passing to each other, all seven of us, but we’ve never actually sat down and seriously talked about it. Isn’t that dumb?” She chuckled.

“Do you think it was like that for the others?” Desire dusted any pretend dust or dirt from her shirt, using it as an excuse to let out her anxiety through fidgeting around with her clothes. “Meeting, what, the ghosts of who we’re supposed to be?”

“Well,” Cupid tilted her head. “We were programmed to imitate them. It was our job to just accept the persona that was pushed onto us until we got it just right. Predetermined judgements that we all fed into each other like a cycle, trapping us deeper in the act.” She shrugged. “It would make sense that the final stage in us accepting that we are above what's expected of us is to confront our innermost mask, right?”

There were so many words that Desire’s head was almost spinning. “You sound like Paragon.” She said as she held a hand over her forehead. “So what did you and— uh, Salt talk about?”

Cupid pursed her lips. “When I experienced it, she came to me and she was angry as hell.”

Desire tilted her head.

“Not too angry,” Cupid clarified, “Well it was more like she was annoyed. I had finally found out what I wanted to be. It was right before I got killed.” She chuckled. “For outsiders it was an instant, but for me it was an eternity. It wasn’t painful, but it was trippy as hell. Salt lectured me about making the same mistakes I did— Being too greedy. Wanting attention from the wrong people and not realizing what you have is already comfy enough…” Her voice trailed off. Following, she began to click her claws on the steering wheel, blinking back tears. “So I decided that I wanted to not be admired, but loved. And what I expected from Pepper was admiration. That’s not healthy, Des.”

Between the two of them they could both sense a comforting easiness, alongside a shared thankfulness that Neo had been yapping away against Floory, trying to educate him on the dangers of Meeple, as well as scolding him for ever even thinking of working with them. Though he seemed to chill out a little when he realized just who Neo was, he was still reeling from having to learn about the situation they were in and why.

Floory was leaning away from Neo, clasping a hand over his mouth in shock. “Test Tube y-you… Neo? Oh god, I feel sick.” He tightened his hand over his mouth. “Even after B—”

Neo slapped their own hand over Floory’s hand, which covered his mouth; Much like a layered cake of silence, they pressed down onto his jaw to prevent him from speaking further. Neo was frankly happy that Cupid and Desire seemed to be in deep enough conversation to not even notice the two of them also discussing something potentially private between whispers and hisses.

Desire happily refused to listen to them. Some things were better left unknown.

“There it is,” Cupid sighed.

Before their vehicle, as they continued to drive closer, appeared a large building that towered up beyond the clouds. From the earth to the sky, it looked like it could have spanned all the way to space if possible. Speaking of, how was the height of this thing possible? The skyscraper loomed over them from even a ways away, leaving Desire with a sunken feeling within her chest. It was uncanny how small she felt when looking up to the seemingly infinite array and linings of windows. All of it shined in the sunlight, glistening pure white as if it were heaven on earth. Though the group knew all too well the horrors that awaited them within the false display that threatened to beguile them like weakling fish into the maw of the anglerfish, fulfilling its evolutionary purpose to lure and destroy.

“Sure looks like it…” Desire twisted her seatbelt in her hands tightly. “I don’t like this.”

“What do you mean?” Neo leaned forward. “This is easy, he doesn’t even have any MePhones guarding the entrance like when Knife and I were trapped in the other headquarters building.” They were about to ramble on, yet stopped with a shocked expression. “Oh. I see,” they scratched their chin. “Yes this is quite odd… Where are the MePhones?”

Cupid let her foot off the gas slowly as they pulled into the large empty parking lot that skirted around the outside of the monolithic building. Her eyes scanned the area slowly, examining the gravel. “There’s tire marks. People drove out of here quickly, but we didn’t see any cars drive past us.”

“Peculiar!” Neo tilted their head.

“This is scaring the hell out of me,” Floory huffed. “You guys are alright with me staying down here, yeah? I don’t want a hand in any of this nonsense. Plus, what if something happens out here? Then what?”

Cupid rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can stay in here like a chicken. We’ll be saving the planet on our own, without you.”

“Fine by me!” Floory raised his hands up defensively and chuckled. “I can’t handle any more crazy— As you may know, I was just remotely possessed by a man who injected some sort of sewage into my body!”

As the car crawled to a halt, Desire immediately unbuckled herself and threw open the passenger door, hopping out and grunting as her feet hit the ground below. To her side was Nemesis pulling up on their motorcycle swiftly, veering to the side as the tires scraped the ground while skidding to a stop. Behind them was Pepper and Cheesy, also stopping yet in a more practical and safe manner.

Cupid also hopped out of the car, immediately heading over to Pepper and Cheesy, who began talking with her as well. Neo followed suit, chattering up a storm, though not too cheery due to the topic at hand. And Desire furrowed her brows, looking down to the ground.

“Feeling left out, Desire?”

She turned and saw Nemesis with a smirk tugging their lips, and she thinned her lips to a line as they took out a cigarette. It was visibly cheaper than the cigarettes Cupid would carry. Their lighter was also cheap looking, as if it were from a gas station rather than a branded store that would cover it in pink sparkly rhinestones. Her gaze shifted between Nemesis’ smirk and the now lit cigarette that laid loosely between their lips, like a branch hanging from a tree, swaying in the winds of a storm. Hell, even the smoke stank like cheap.

“You’re striking up a conversation with me out of all of the people who are here?” Desire crossed her arms gently, holding her own shoulders as a comfort. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Thought I should at least get to know ‘ya before shit goes awry,” Smoke billowed from their lips with each hearty chuckle. “I met every single one besides you, after all. And I can feel that Vengeance feels awfully fond of you.” There was a soft humming coming from their chest, sounding a lot like a low purr.

Desire angled her eye down. “I’m really sorry.”

Nemesis rolled their eyes, still sporting that smart-ass smirk. “Let’s save the emotional shit for after, m’kay? For now I want to know what you’ll enjoy about this.” They pressed the cigarette between their lips and pressed on their knuckles, cracks erupting like the drumroll of a snare. “I personally hope I can beat the shit out of Ego myself. How about you? Want to break shit? Break him?”

Silence from Desire. And in return, from Nemesis.

Though after a few uneasy seconds, Nemesis suggested another. “Clock him in the face?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Desire waved her hand dismissively, “I just feel so out of it. Like there’s an impending doom. I can’t help but be pessimistic about this.” She shuffled her feet, trying to adjust to a better feeling stance. Nothing felt right though.

“I guess we’re doing some emotional shit right now,.” Nemesis took another puff of their cigarette, “Do you have a purpose?”

“To find who I really am. I want to find what version of me that I’m really comfortable with.” Desire glanced up at Cupid, then back to Nemesis. “It seems everyone else has an easy time with it. I’ve talked about it so much now I feel like I’m going absolutely crazy.”

Nemesis took the cigarette out from between their lips and let it rest between their pointer and middle finger, the smoke ghosted upwards, soon dissipating as it reached its height. “You’re gonna have to figure it out through this. Don’t you wanna make it outta here alive and be happy?”

She had to stop herself from smiling sadly. “This is the third time I’m being told this.”

“Well third time’s the charm I s’pose,” Nemesis chuckled and pat Desire’s back. “And if you ever get too scared, you can let Cupid and I do the work, ‘kay?” They chucked the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, snuffing out the little embers.

Desire’s answer barely left her lips before Cupid marched up to Nemesis, her eyes flaring with anger. “And don’t you think I forgot about what you did to me, you little shit!” She pointed a claw directly into Nemesis’ chest. “You’re lucky Pepper had all of my attention before I ripped your stupid face off!”

Nemesis sighed and crossed their arms. “I’m sorry about the ax thing, alright?” They looked off to the side, then their snarky smirk reappeared. “But you gotta admit I had an amazing aim. Genuinely thought I was gonna die; Guess it was the adrenaline?”

Cupidity’s face grew red. “You’ll be my personal fucking punching bag— You’re even more annoying than I remember!” She gestured towards their stomach. “Probably because you have that stupid redhead powering you like a fucking engine! You inherited all of his stupidity!”

“Hey, what was that last word? Sounds scarily similar to your name.” Nemesis snorted. “That on purpose?”

Looking close enough at Cupidity’s face, anyone would have seen her eye twitched. Though she closed her eyes and smiled, taking a deep inhale and letting out an even deeper exhale. “We will be okay. And I will finally be able to flay your face to hell and back for that stupid little comment you made. We will be okay.”

Pepper walked up to Cupidity and placed an arm around her torso. “Cheesy and I were able to get information about a secret project in the underground facility floors of the building. So I did think of a plan…” She seemed a little hesitant before continuing her proposal. “I was thinking Desire could come with Cheesy and me to try to disarm whatever the hell it is while Nemesis and Cupid go up and deal with Ego.”

Cheesy spun around a little bit and spun his shotgun in his arms. “Check how my shotgun spins around dis-arm !” He chuckled, finally tossing it up into the air with a spin. Pepper launched an arm out and caught it before it landed back into Cheesy’s grasp, making him groan in disappointment. “Pepper. You're killing my happy, optimistic comedic relief vibe.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Wait, why me?” Desire shook her head. “Can’t you two do that on your own? Why do you need me to tag along?”

“We need one of you to come with us to defend us,” Pepper frowned, “Nemesis, Cupidity and Neo are the strongest, and we’ll need you for extra defense if anything happens to us down there. Both Cheesy and I are only human, after all.”

Desire blinked quickly. “Oh. I guess...” Her voice trailed off as she looked to the ground. “Well what if you guys force Floory and Neo to join you and I go with Nemesis and Cupid?”

Cheesy shook his head. “Nope!”

“Yeah,” Pepper also chuckled, “he’s not leaving that car. Plus you’re not understanding. While you’re the weakest of the three, you’re still the strongest between you, me and Cheesy.” She shoved the shotgun back into the arms of Cheesy, who began holding it like a security blanket.

There was no way she was actually just saying that outright like that. It felt like she was the punchline of some horribly timed, awfully planned out joke. “That’s not true right? You guys don’t agree with that right?” She turned to Nemesis and Cupidity, who only stood quietly. Nemesis avoided making eye contact and scratched the back of their head, and Cupid could only frown sympathetically towards her. And Desire felt that awful heartburn again. “...Right?”

“I’m sorry girl,” Cupid sighed, “We did talk about it.”

“B-But,” Desire shook her head, “Nemesis literally just talked to me about possibly even beating Ego to a pulp myself!” She turned to Nemesis, who still was avoiding eye contact. “Right?”

They turned away slightly and hid their face, which Desire could still make out was void of all of those sarcastic and playful smirks that they displayed before. Neo had been abnormally quiet for a long time, barely noticeable in the first place.

“What if you three get hurt up there?” Desire clawed at her pants.

“Then we’ll call for you,” Cupid tossed a flip phone into Desire’s hands, “Turn the notifications off.”

Desire snatched at the phone, clutching it so tightly that if she didn’t control herself she would have snapped it clean in half. “What if Pepper or Cheesy get hurt on my watch?”

“Then you’ll call for us,” Cupid sighed. She turned to the door. “But I don’t think you’d let them get hurt. You’re very careful.” She took out the pink pistol that Pepper had tossed to her before and walked straight to the pink motorcycle, reaching into one of the sidebags and reloading it with a nostalgic ease. The purple heart charms on it clinked and rattled along with her claws. “Isn’t that right, Pepper?”

Pepper nodded. “While I may not know you too well, I’ve heard things about you from Cupid while we were hanging out and stuff.” She smiled as she took out a purple pistol, one with matching pink charms, and reloaded it with the same type of bullets from the motorcycle side bag. “I think we’ll be in good hands.”

It wasn’t about that anymore. Desire knew this would have been the only chance to prove herself to not only the group, but herself. But now the circumstances had begun to pile up against her; And the circumstances had seemingly won favor over her own thoughts. She was quiet for a bit, then kicked the small man made pebbles that made up the grainy parking lot ground. “Fine. Let’s go in then.”

“Now?” Nemesis raised an eyebrow. “Are we all ready then? Cupid, Cheesy, Pepper? Neo?”

They all nodded at each other, then looked at the car parked.

“Floory, are you sure you’re staying in the car?” Nemesis shouted.

Then there came some angry, muffled shouting from the car. After which Nemesis made a slight rotating motion with their hand, pointing downwards. Then a few seconds later, the car window rolled down, with Floory peeking his head out of the window. “I’m staying out here! I’ll just try to cover you guys if anyone gets suspicious. Aw man this really sucks…” He slapped a hand over his forehead as he sank in the seat, then slowly rolled the window back up.

Nemesis rolled their eyes and began walking to the entrance signalling for the rest of the group to follow suit.

As they walked closer and closer, Desire stared at the reflection of herself in the building’s windows in front of her. Her body didn’t feel okay. That same feeling came back. The one that she swore up and down that she finally got rid of. Why was she so nervous if she had been making such huge strides to getting better? Letting go of the confusion was supposed to comfort her, not scare her. So why did she still feel so trapped? Why did she feel like her heart had been weighing heavy in her chest?

The lobby of the headquarters was covered in splatters of glowing chemicals mixed with the deep sanguine sheen of blood. Sweet and coppery danced in the air, invading their nostrils as soon as they walked into the building, making most of them slap a hand over their noses and mouths in immediate disgust. Though Nemesis alternatively whistled at the sight, taking in the environment while marveling. “Looks like he’s found some neat decor, huh?”

“Gross.” Cupid scoffed. “Do you think his office would be at the very top in this building?”

“Cupid, I have no clue. I didn’t even know he had multiple headquarters for this company,” Nemesis slowly took out their butterfly knives from their holsters. “Why two? His head is so far up his ass. Two is way too expensive.”

“Nemesis.” Neo narrowed their eyes.

“Right. Yeah, we can take the elevator I guess,” Nemesis rolled their eyes. “You three can go down the stairs.”

Desire frowned. “Okay. Please just be careful, you guys.”

Neo turned right on their heel towards an elevator, clenching their fists and allowing for the steel spikes to emerge once more. They knew they had barely been speaking. It was on purpose.

Nemesis and Cupidity followed Neo to the elevator, pressing the button and waiting for the doors to open. Slowly, they creaked open, displaying a large puddle of blood, outlining what seemed to be the absent spot of a body. Like someone had expired in that very elevator mere moments before. And as the three stepped in, they turned and watched as the doors slowly closed, hiding Desire’s frown from view.

Neo sighed as the doors shut. They looked down at the ground where they stood. The blood behind her feet was dry, yet none of them took care to avoid it. The three of them knew it didn’t matter anymore. Just as the air between them hung like the smokes of the past that they would all breathe in, sucking in that addictive nicotine as if it were fresh oxygen. Though none of that was with them now. Only the remnants and ghosts of haunting events that trailed behind them like bodies that piled up in a slaughter.

The window behind them displayed an increasing height. There were slight jolts and shakes from the elevator, and the lights even flickered a bit which admittedly made Neo’s fists tremble.

“So,” Nemesis started, “what were you guys’ favorite memories?”

“Do not do this.” Neo muttered. “This isn’t some final day at school sort of thing. Take this seriously.”

“I liked the time Pepper and I spent together,” Cupid muttered, holding the pistol to her side. “I enjoyed meeting Cheesy and hearing about the success Apathy gained from being at that shitty little circus. It made me happy.”

Neo glared at Cupidity, who only glared toward the floor. Cupid’s lips trembled as if she were about to burst into tears, yet she held steady. The elevator lightly swayed as they continued to go farther up and up and up.

“I liked staying at Nickel’s house that night.” Nemesis twirled one of the knives in their hand. “When he was delicate with me. It was like the world gave me a break when I needed it the most. And I could breathe for the first time in a while.” They went quiet for a moment. “And I guess Vengeance enjoyed the few days of peace he had with Test Tube before… Well, you know.”

Both Nemesis and Cupidity looked to Neo, who still stood in a boiling silence. Their fists clenched.

“Neo, right?” Nemesis sighed and stopped spinning their knife. “We’ve been through so much. I know it was all horrible shit, but—”

“When I shared moments of peace with Marshmallow.” They muttered. “The jokes that Knife made that had me actually laugh and forget the situations we were in at those times, forgetting that I had to fear for my life all the damn time.” Fighting back the tears seemed like a losing battle now. “That night at the party, when Fan looked so beautiful and I thought to myself, ‘I can’t believe we made it so far.’”

The elevator was understandably silent, save for the almost rhythmic dinging of the floor number still counting up. Nemesis watched as a single tear fell from Neo’s eyes, obscured by her bangs, and hit the floor.

Then it came to a stop.

The three of them looked upwards and forwards, glaring as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a neat and tidy lobby. It smelled of cleaning chemicals. They all shared a knowing look, seemingly communicating that they all understood that someone had just fairly recently taken enough care to clean the place up. And before them loomed a large double door. Wooden, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the white minimalist lobby.

Neo took the first few steps, marching towards the doors with a fire in their eyes. Nemesis and Cupid followed closely behind, taking a cautious yet prepared grip of their respective weapons. They could only stare as Neo’s hand gripped the door handles. They looked back at the two of them, nodding sternly at the both of them and only slowly pushing them open as soon as she got affirming nods back.

The room was dark. No light from the outside. Only the light from the lobby spilled forth, revealing an empty office. Neo could barely make out a large conference table to one side, and an office desk on the other.

“Nobody’s here?” Nemesis whispered. “Are we sure he’s not downstairs with whatever the hell is in the basement?”

Suddenly the elevator dinged.

The three of them turned around, watching the elevator close and start heading downwards. At first, their instinct was to run back and call it back up, but something sudden had stopped them dead in their tracks.

The office doors slammed shut with a loud boom, one only comparable to a bassy thunderclap. Darkness veiled over everything. The only thing they could see were Cupidity’s lightly glowing pink irises, Neo’s glowing yellow eyes, and Nem’s glowing green veins. The three of them huddled up instinctively, looking for any semblance of stability within the dark.

“So,” Nemesis chuckled, “Any of you got any special night vision sight?”

“Shut up.” Cupidity hissed.

“Sorry.” Nemesis sighed. “Seriously though, is there a lightswitch we could—” Nemesis shrieked, as if they had the soul ripped out of them. This made Neo and Cupidity jump into fighting stances though neither of them could see each other.

“N-Nem?” Cupid stuttered out. “What the hell?” She hissed again.

“It sounded like they were snatched upwards…” Neo looked up to where the roof may be, squinting through the dark.

And they felt their heart drop, as they saw a familiar telegenic smile with glowing white, almost perfectly aligned teeth.

The entire journey down the stairs was quiet and Desire didn’t mind it at all. She didn’t want to know anything more about Cupidity than she had already known. There was no use getting more attached than she already had been, as Desire was one-hundred percent sure that after all of this was over, Cupid was going to drop Desire in a heartbeat to go somewhere nice. Probably vacation on a beach or something. One could only dream.

Desire watched as Pepper tinkered with a keypad that connected to a large metal door.

“Cabby told us it was a portal,” Pepper muttered between quick keystrokes, “whatever that means.”

“Yeah!” Cheesy held his shotgun tight in his hands. “All we gotta do is shut ‘er down and we’ll be good to go.”

Desire refused to even entertain the thought of conversation. The only thing she could think of was getting out of there alive with Cupidity and Neo (and maybe Nemesis who knows or cares anymore), and being able to give proper apologies and saying appropriate goodbyes. She would keep these two safe and then leave the building as soon as possible, only going to help at the top floor if asked of her.

Because that’s what she’s been boiled down to.

Following commands.

Again.

The doors slid open and revealed a large room with many tables aligned with MePads that showed some sort of biostatistics. Heat levels, breathing levels, all the works. Though one thing stood out to the three of them, and that was indeed the large metal ring that harbored a slowly blinking green and yellow orb in the middle of it.

“It looks like it’s growing,” Cheesy ran towards one of the tablets, “I think we can crack this baby before it hatches!”

Pepper marched to another tablet and began slamming her fingers on it as well, only occasionally breaking her focus to glance at Cheesy’s screen. “If that one doesn’t have the controls then try to get into another one. We need to figure out which tablet is the main one and fast.” She quickly turned to Desire. “Do you know anything about programming?”

Desire quickly shook her head.

Pepper groaned in response. “Of course. That’s alright. Just sit there and guard the door or something. You have that finger gun, we all saw how powerful it was.”

Desire sighed, yet let go of any anger she may have had. Pepper was absolutely right to be irritated at this moment. It was stressful having to work under pressure, especially when grappling with mortality. Though Desire was a robot and could be taken apart, she could also always be put back together and be coded and wired the exact same way. Hell, even rebooted to a previous version if someone chose to do so. But humans are so fragile that they may either come to terms with such delicateness, or they may break under the realization of the inevitable.

She wasn’t going to kill anyone.

Nor was she going to even shoot.

Nobody in this building asked to be part of it. Nobody at all. She closed her eye and leaned on the doorway, holding her wrist lightly. Then she looked down, staring once more at the black lines that branched through her arm. Her mind trailed back to the Infusion X that had been extracted from her during the oil change at Bot and Clover’s home. And her mind trailed to Floory, waiting outside of the building in the parking lot in the locked car.

Then it dawned on her, just as the phone in her pocket began to vibrate.

Pepper and Cheesy’s heads shot up, looking at Desire with looks of worry and distress. Cheesy pointed. “You need to go help them— Now.”

Desire began to stammer, yet Pepper cut her off. “They need you now. Give us some time, we’ll have this shut down in a heartbeat. Get to the elevator.”

The blonde robot immediately zipped off, stumbling and pushing herself off of tables down the rooms and down hallways, slamming herself into the wall and propelling herself off of them with all of the might her arms could muster. She had to get there in time. Ego could so easily control Nemesis and Cupidity if he wanted to. And Neo had no backup in that scenario.

Those stupid chemicals.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Desire shouted as she ran up the stairs, stumbling and panting as she entered the main lobby. The same lobby that was decorated in bright glowing substances and blood now had staggering humanoid silhouettes, robotically snapping their joints or even twitching. When she stepped foot into the room, they all looked at her, their screens blue and red and grey. A sea of many colors, many versions of MePhones from the past. None that she’d ever wanted to even know of due to very personal reasons that she should throw away at this very moment.

Though she swore to not harm even a fly unless absolutely necessary, she took a page out of Cupid’s book and sweeped her foot through a semicircle motion, knocking a few of the MePhones down and sending them crashing into each other like dominos. Though she had been hypocritically thankful that none of them were too broken from the maneuver.

Her wrists and arms were grabbed, to which she threw her elbow back and stumbled forward, making a mad dash to the elevator while pushing her rubbery lungs to the limits of breath. And as if a guardian angel had seen her struggles from above, the elevator doors just so happened to open right on time for her to fall straight on her ass in the center of a dried circle of blood. An arm reached inside of the elevator, yet the doors snapped so quickly and with so much force that the arm had also snapped off, falling to the floor with a few fragments of debris rattling alongside it.

Desire leaned her back on the windowed back of the elevator as it began to crawl up the building, panting so hard that she felt like her entire body was going to be flipped inside out. She stared in horror at the arm that fell in front of her. She watched herself shakily push it farther away with her foot, shoving it into the corner of the elevator as she felt a stinging bile-like sensation creep up her throat.

For a moment she thanked the world for the silence, yet at the same time she hated it. Even the background noise of the elevator machinery thumping and rattling and dinging didn’t alleviate any of the stress from her body or mind.

She curled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, staring blankly at the door in front of her. And she spoke out to nobody.

“What am I doing here?”

Following the reply of the empty silence, she let her voice croak once more.

“I just want to go home.”

Dings from the elevator floor counter. As if it were a lullaby, tempting her to pass out. Fortunately she at least had some resilience to not give into the tendrils of sleep that weighed around her ankles.

Especially because the doors slowly creaked open, revealing a surprisingly pleasant lobby.

She quickly rose to her feet, standing upright and staring out into the lobby, her eyes immediately locking on dark brown doors that seemed like they were made just to catch anyone’s attention. Slowly she took a step forward. Pushing one foot in front of the other, she watched herself once more as her body gravitated towards the doors. Like something had beckoned for her to enter. Though she could admit it was intrigue, it had also been the worry that festered in her stomach— The worry for the ones she missed.

When the doors pushed open, an office was revealed. It was similar to the one she’d seen before, but arranged differently. It was hard to believe that this HQ was a completely different one than the one that she had practically lived in for the majority of her existence. The light from the minimalist lobby littered through, exposing an office desk, with a man sitting in the chair.

“Well now,” A deep, warm timbre voice sang out from the desk, “a little birdie told me I was going to receive some visitors today!” A small snap echoed in the same direction the voice spoke from, and the office doors shut swiftly, throwing a cover of darkness through the room.

Desire gasped and backed up towards the doors, pressing her back against it while fiddling with the doorknobs, keeping her eye on the direction of the office desk.

“It’s very interesting watching you flail around all panicked.” A soft flick, then a small desk lamp popped on, illuminating the desk in a slight warm, orange glow. “You’ve been hanging out with those humans so much. Isn’t that right, Desire?” He leaned back, only his arms and torso visible. In one hand he twirled a coin between his fingers, rolling it along his knuckles as if toying with his food. The other hand rested on the surface of his desk as he drummed his fingers lightly along the top. “Your manners are so similar to them now. You cry for mercy, you beg to go home…”

And there was a third arm, a shimmering golden claw, swirling a shot glass of a honeyed ambrosia of amber.

“You know, humans remind me so much of ants. They try so hard to understand the antfarm that they live in.”

A fourth claw that now wrapped around his shoulder and adjusted his tie.

“They’re born. They work. They die. Spiraling endlessly to the inevitable— Isn’t that pitiful? Doesn’t that just make you sad, Desire?”

She felt her legs begin to tremble. “W-Where are they, Ego…?” She whispered. “What did you do to them?”

“I first would like to know what you’ve done, Desire!” He let out a hearty chuckle. “Did Bot’s little speech about being yourself really leave so much of a mark on you that you undid all of my hard work?”

Desire gasped.

“What did they tell you again?” Ego tapped his chin with his free hand. “To listen to your heart? That’s adorable; Like you’re a princess from some fairy tale! They understood so much about you!” He hummed, leaning forward towards his desk, still rolling the coin on his knuckles. “It’s almost like they were in the same exact situation you were in. With the same self-absorbed creator. Someone with a knowledge of programming personalities into hollow shells and— Oh! Oh wait!” Ego’s eyes never left Desire’s face. “They didn’t tell you that part, did they? But you knew that. You knew that you couldn’t bear hearing the truth. I’m assuming you know what I mean, dear.”

Her throat was dry. Her jaw was clenching the tightest it’d ever been. She felt like she was truly dying at that moment.

“But hey, kudos to you! You spritzed yourself all up and gave yourself a new coat of paint. Isn’t that delightful? It’s cute, really it is,” He placed his free hand on his heart. “It’s a start! If you want, I can give you some…” His smile widened. “...pointers, maybe? Hell, I owe it to you since your failures are what pushed me to work so hard for this position in the first place!”

The claw sat the shot glass onto the table and pushed his chair out, allowing for him to step from the side of his desk. He leaned in, beginning to walk slowly towards Desire, who began rattling the doorknobs in pure terror. Though Ego continued to roll a coin along his hand.

“That hair is far too choppy. It’s like you didn’t have a proper hair stylist at all!” He pressed a finger to his chin. “That outfit is dreadful and would get you some mighty awful press. You don’t want to have people thinking you just throw trash on all helter skelter.” He now towered over her. Leaning over her, staring her directly in the eyes. “And those veins! Talk about gossip!” He finally stuffed the coin into his pocket as one of the claws yanked at Desire’s wrist, pulling her up to meet Ego at eye level. And indeed he did stare into her eyes, his gaze lasering through her.

“You’ve been useless since the beginning,” Ego beamed. “Endlessly looking for the approval of anyone, especially the ones who you thought would lend you a helping hand out of such a crisis.” His voice was low. Yet that damned smile cursed her. Though Desire had been trembling for quite some time now, it immediately ceased once she took notice that Ego hadn’t just been looking into her eyes, but rather glaring at the man’s reflection in her pupils.

Oh dear god. This wasn’t ever actually an issue of him thinking he’s better than everyone, was it?

As soon as Ego realized Desire had stopped trembling, the claw’s grip on her wrist grew tighter, making her wince and kick her feet. “I can tell you’re scared of me! I love it, I love it!” He cackled.

“E-Ego!” She croaked out, reaching to hold her arm as she flailed her legs. “I-I’m not!”

“Not going to make it? You’re not able to breathe? Does it hurt?!” He cackled even louder.

“I’m don’t—”

His neck clicked, slowly turning in short bursts, revealing a familiar face that frowned, displaying orange yet dirty golden hair. Once purple eyes now had Ego’s familiar orange and blue irises. A familiar voice, sullen and sad, ‘Apathy’ sighed out: “Admit it, you’re scared. Everyone’s always so scared of me, it’s agonizing…”

Desire wanted to scream right then and there, but she wouldn’t budge. She wouldn’t give into this fear. She didn’t want to run anymore. Not from herself, not from others.

“Don’t you just want to give up and just go to sleep forever?” The ‘Apathy’ sighed again, blinking slowly. “What a tragedy, how comedic life can be at our expense.”

She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath as she felt the rubbery muscle and faux sinew in her arm begin to ache. The metallic bones were seemingly about to give way. It did, indeed, hurt. The burning and tearing and ripping sensation radiated through her, and it was getting hard to keep going on.

The head spun again, ticking and locking in place in short bursts once more, like a ticking clock, finally locking Ego’s face in place once more. “Say you hate me.”

Desire could barely even murmur out a word as the sharpness pulsed from her arm to her body to her mind. It took over everything, forming a lump in her throat, having her eyes glued shut, and her brain unable to rationalize or even think. She felt like a ragdoll being tossed around by a sad little boy.

“Say it,” Ego muttered, bringing Desire closer. “To my face, say it! All attention is good attention! So say it, say your worst about me!”

She huffed and panted, letting her hand go limp. She felt the darkness creeping over her, soon to be a loss of consciousness. Or perhaps this is what happens when computers die? So, she let out a final statement, one that she hoped would allow for more time to be bought to figure out a way to stop anything worse from happening. “I am so sorry that you’ve had to put on this mask for so long, Ego.”

His smile dropped.

And behind him from the roof, Cupidity, Neo, and Nemesis seemed to drop one by one. When they each hit the floor, they seemed to reel a bit, grasping at their head and hair, groaning to themselves.

Though Ego remained focused on Desire. He seemed taken aback, and his grip loosened a little bit. “What did you just say?”

“It didn’t have to be this way,” Desire moaned in pain, still lightly clawing at the golden claw that had held her hand steady.

Soon, Ego’s frown turned into a scowl. He tightened his grasp and wound the claw, then threw her into a bookshelf with all his might, cracking her back and the shelf, as well as making a few books fall around her or even onto her head. She wobbled a bit, yet stood up as quickly as she could while pressing herself up with the broken shelves.  She really didn’t want to kill him.  “I know what it’s like—”

“You wouldn’t know, you wouldn’t!” Ego shouted. “There’s nothing to even know! Nothing to understand!” His hands grasped at his hair as he looked to the ground, the claws on his back twitched. His neck seemed to creak. “You’re spouting nonsense at me in hopes you’ll redeem me!”

“We went through the same exact thing!” She shouted. “We all did and we should have talked about it!” She glanced at Cupidity, who seemed to still be wobbling from the fall. “We never did. Now look at us— Look at you .”

He shook his head. “This is me! I’m an arrogant bastard! I put on a smile and I sell things, I sell! I bring the money in, I’m successful!” He dragged a claw along the wall, scratching it with a shrieking creak as he marched toward Desire once more. “I am admired, I am adored! I am literally worshipped like a god by these humans! I have everything I want up here!”

“You don’t regret any of this?!” Desire shouted, taking a step forward. “You killed Edacity, didn’t you?! You got Apathy killed! Vengeance basically killed himself to impress you! Cupidity went fucking crazy because you poisoned her mind with the idea of worship, and that got her literally axed! Paragon sacrificed herself to become a vessel for Test Tube just so they could stop you!” Desire felt no more tears. The room was quiet except for the heavy breaths of the group. She shook her head lightly and frowned. “What about the sheer amount of innocents you’ve killed? Was their blood on your hands not enough to even make a dent in your ego? Don’t you regret any of that?” She took another step forward, pushing him by the shoulders, sending him stumbling backwards. “I know you do. Deep down you do.”

He looked like a deer in the headlights, utterly shocked at what had been thrown at him.

“What’s your goal anyway?!” She grabbed his wrist and tugged him down. “You say that humans can’t achieve prosperity when their mortality holds them back, but what kind of leader would want absolute control?!”

Ego’s breath quickened. “Don’t do this.”

“Answer me, Ego!”

“SHUT UP!” Ego suddenly grabbed Desire by the neck and raised her, squeezing as tight as he could. “Do you really want to see the pinnacle of humanity?! When mortals are stripped of the curse of death and can reach peak enlightenment?! Be my guest!” Ego suddenly slammed Desire down to the ground, breaking through the floor and slamming her into the next one, breaking through. Breaking through the next one. Breaking through, continuing to shatter and break and crack and destroy.

On her last leg of life, they finally reached the bottom, where the portal was.

“It was never about the eggs, Desire!” Ego tossed her to the concrete wall, the impact had her arms and legs splay out as her body slid down, falling limp to the floor. “It’s about domination! Control! I don’t care about how the people see me anymore— They see me as strong! Cutthroat! Cruel and unforgiving!”

Desire’s body shook in both pain and anger.

“I don’t want to be loved anymore!” Ego shouted, extending his arms out as he stood upright with a crooked smile. The portal behind him began to roar to life, the green and yellow streaks expanding and illuminating his backside and casting a shadow over his front. “I want to fit the image that the world has in their mind! I want everyone to know that I can provide expectations and more! I want to break free from the meaningless restriction of regret and rise above the rest! Here and any other stupid timeline or dimension, whatever the hell any of that means! Doesn’t really matter to me anymore!”

Desire looked behind him and to the glass, where Pepper and Cheesy had been trying to break for some time. It looked like they were trying to just give up on the mission and get Desire out of there before the portal fully opened.

She really, really didn’t want to kill him.

“We loved you, Ego!” Desire cried. “We really, really did! And you hurt us so much— You used to care! I could tell you did!”

He took a few steps forward.

Desire whined as she gripped her knee, which was pulsing with a sharp pain. “You wish you were never even created, don’t you?!”

And he froze, his arms lowering a little.

She nodded lightly. “That’s what it is. You don’t wish to just fulfill expectations, you just want to be given a purpose. Because you’re used to being the role model. The one who had the most expectations when being programmed. The one expected to take pride in himself and how he did things, which shattered your entire self identity.” She leaned forward, pushing herself up one final time and leaning against the wall behind her for additional support. “Once you realized you had no purpose you snapped. You lost yourself. You experienced ego death. Hell, you still are to this very moment.”

His hands began to tremble.

“You can barely even stand looking at yourself, can you? When you look in a mirror, you aren’t worried about how good you look. You’re worried about people finding out who you really are. You’re not scared of people fearing you,” She pointed her finger down, allowing her finger gun to uncap. “You’re scared of people knowing you’re weak. That you have no unique thoughts. No unique goals. All you’ve done is destroy and ruin and kill, and what for? Why?!”

For a moment his body slightly wobbled. And his crooked smile was no more; Yet it was now replaced with a crooked frown.

“Humanity angers me,” He muttered, still looking at her. “They experience death all the same, so what’s the point of them living in such despair? Why would they choose to continue to live such an agonizing life for such an unsatisfying end,” Ego’s hand trembled as he placed it over his face, splaying his fingers to only show his eyes with shrunken and shaking pupils. “Expendable and meaningless, all of them. Tormenting themselves from birth. Yet I was created and given life, only to be constantly berated due to my lack of success. Lack of purpose.”

Desire swallowed the lump in her throat as she heard his words, for the first time, in a calm manner. Even if he did sound like he was on the brink of tears, she still listened.

“Isn’t that hilarious? A hyper intelligent artificial computer being thrown away for not being human enough, not being perfect enough. I can solve equations in milliseconds. Milliseconds!” He shook his head and let out another crazed laugh. “I hate humans— I hate them! Their expectations, their claim of purpose, their pride !” He took a limp step forward. “So why not give them something that can unite them! I can control them! I can give them endless life so that they can experience the absolute enlightenment of knowing absolutely everything in microscopic milliseconds! They can experience the harsh reality of being aware of anything at all times!”

Desire stumbled forward again. And with her other foot she sprung forward, latching onto Ego and wrapping her arms around him tightly. He stuttered for a second, then stood still, his arms still outstretched.

“What do you want to do, Ego?” Desire muttered, squeezing him tight.

He was quiet once more, and his body seemed to loosen up gradually. He tried to say something, anything at all, but it was like the words were impossible to string together. So Desire leaned in more, embracing him for longer. Then, he choked out four words to the best of his ability, pushing past the tears that pricked his eyes. There was a moment between them, a shared spark of understanding. And while Desire hoped that there was something within him that could be redeemed, she knew there was only one thing to do; And Ego seemingly agreed.

“I never wanted to exist.”

At that, Desire nodded weakly and slowly let him go.

“I want to die, Desire."

The portal continued to roar behind Ego, the green and yellow spiral growing larger by the second. It was like all gravity in the room had been sucked out of there. As Desire felt her body being slowly lifted off of the ground, she glanced out of the large window and saw Cupidity, Neo and Nemesis attempting to break the window alongside Pepper and Cheesy. Every single one of them looked weak.

Though she didn’t mind this. Instead, she felt at peace.

Now in front of her was Lightbulb, sitting in a small corner. It was dark, with the only illumination coming from small white spotlights on the both of them. Desire looked around a bit, taking in the inky black void that surrounded them. As she walked, the floor seemed to ripple like sparkling water with every step. And when she finally met Lightbulb, she held out a hand.

Lightbulb, her curly blonde hair framing her face, smiled brightly upon looking at Desire’s hand. “You finally found me!”

Desire smiled. “I did find myself.” She watched as Lightbulb began to slowly fade away, though Desire continued to hold her hand. “There won’t ever be people like us, will there?”

“Nope,” Lightbulb clicked her tongue. “There won’t ever be people who are just like you. That’d be weird and annoying! Trust me, I would know.”

The robot nodded, watching and feeling the woman in front of her finally fully dissipate. “Of course.”

Ego was on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as his expression grew distant. His gaze was foggy, and she could tell that he was at his lowest. Though, she knew that he knew this had to happen. The tip of her finger had been capped off for a while, and her hand had been humming at such a high pitch that she knew it was fully charged.

The banging on the window outside from Cupidity and Nemesis and Neo, all screaming such different exclamations yet all insisting the same thing; “Don’t do it Desire!” “You’ll die expending the rest of your energy!” “Are you fucking crazy?!”

And she tilted her head, smiling at Ego. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

For a moment she could tell Ego had begun to allow the duet of hesitation and reconsideration to play around in his head, but he finally shook his head and sniffled. “It’s over, Desire. You won. I give in to mortality,” His shoulders fell limp as he looked her in the eye. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Desire gave a weak smile. “We can experience it together, okay? I don’t forgive you, but I wouldn’t want anyone to experience crossing over alone.” More angry and frightened pounding from the window as the barrel of Desire’s finger gun began to glow. Crackling, popping, warming up.

“Close your eyes, Desire.” Ego said with an uncharacteristically soft voice. Though, Desire knew that he had finally regained his senses for the first time in years. “I don’t want you to see the ugly parts of this.” The weight on his shoulders continued to weigh. “I don’t want anyone to see the ugly anymore.”

She pointed the gun between his eyes, aiming square for the forehead, right where the vital life components would be, right where the chemicals in him would be taking the most restrictive hold.

“Desire stop! You’ll die! You’ll kill both him and yourself!”

“Don’t do it, we can literally figure out any other way to do this!”

“That portal will literally explode if she fires that thing!”

And maybe it was a stupid decision sure, but wasn’t that what humans were all about? Trying again and again until they bounced back onto the right path? Wasn’t it about falling and scraping your knees on the dirty pavement until you finally learned how to properly ride a bike? Wasn’t it looking back on all of your embarrassing memories and thanking your past self for being so brave to put yourself out there despite the risks? Despite the rewards?

She looked at herself in the mirror and finally enjoyed the person she saw staring back at her.

And now, she closed her eyes as she heard the whirring and cracking of her gun hit its highest pitch, its strongest level.

Through her eyelids, she saw a burst of light, and felt a sharp blast of a burning blaze surrounding her body in its entirety, before it all finally and thankfully went dark.