Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The collar is, by all means, a vast improvement to his last one. Its sleek, polished surface is cool against his skin, barely present unless he swallowed too hard or tilted his chin down. It does not chafe. It does not reek of rust.

But it is still a collar, and it is taking everything in Aventurine to not tear it off.

"So-" Aventurine's eyes snap to the left, staring at the multi-limbed Mox eyeing a holoscreen through the elevator's glass door. "-you and the other idols will have two days to get acclimated to the new place, chat, all that fun stuff. After that, we'll take you to the groomers to get you ready for a photoshoot, then interviews. You'll get two hours for free time, then back to the groomers before the big banquet." The Mox chuckles and wiggles its eye stalks. "Bet you'll enjoy that one, yeah?"

Aventurine's eye twitches as his lips curl. "What does that mean?"

The Mox squints with disgust. "Uh, 'cause it looks like your owners barely feed you a thing." It wiggles its eye stalks again, this time in...annoyance? It's kind of hard to tell. "Not my type, anyway. Cuter when they're chubby."

With that, the elevator reaches its destination. The glass doors slide open with little fanfare, and Aventurine finds himself in a room overflowing with untouched amenities; a circular couch in a central pit, pillows undisturbed and plump; a giant kitchen and pantry, meals and snacks still in their wrappings; exercise equipment, not even plugged in. He steps out at the Mox's urging and twitches when his collar flashes, but nothing comes from it.

"Eh, don't be offended," the Mox says, still ogling its screen. "Some pets get bad separation anxiety, especially when they're separated for the first time. Give 'em a few hours and someone'll come out eventually." With that, the alien shrinks the screen and twists an eyestalk at Aventurine in some kind of salute. "Now play nice with the others and don't get too rowdy!"

Then he's gone and Aventurine is left to scratch at his neck as he pleases.
The tiles cool his feet as he approaches the floor-to-ceiling glass window taking up an entire wall. Outside, the twisted spires and flashing billboards of planet Moriah greet him. He'd seen cityscapes in a dozen other planets, flying vehicles in a dozen more. What draws his attention, though, is the advertisement flashing on the nearest screen. On it, a terrified, six-armed Mox with deep red skin yanks a human out of traffic by a bedazzled cord attached to her collar. " Keep your human-pet happy and safe today! " the subtitle says. " Buy Isaac's Binds today! "

"Disgusting," Aventurine mutters before forcing himself away. He'd learned about the planet's customs months before setting foot on its surface, but to truly see it in practice...The man sighs and shakes that thought away. He knew what he was getting into, making that wager. He just needs to get through it and he'll be off of this planet in a month's time.

So he heads for the pantry instead. Much of its shelves are stuffed with pre-cooked meals, temperature kept in stasis until removed from its cloche, mixed in with packaged candies and crisps from brands unaffiliated with the Interastral Peace Corporation. With how isolated Moriah is from his usual territory, he does not recognize any of the fruits or vegetables in the baskest against the wall.

"Let's see..." Aventurine's eyes skip over the strangle oval-shaped fruit with still-moving fibers on its skin, the brown berries that (frankly) look like droppings attached to a string. Finally, he spots a basket of round, green fruits. It smells citrusy. Its skin is rough to the touch, so he imagines he'll have to peel it as well. "Hm..." He holds the fruit up to the light. Its hue almost matches his namesake. "I'll take my chances."

Then he discovers that, for all the assorted cutlery the kitchen has, it lacks anything that could actually peel the damn thing.

Aventurine slams the cabinet and growls, nearly ready to chuck the fruit into the nearest trashbin when he hears, "Um..." to his right. To his surprise, another person is standing there, dressed in plain white robes and staring at him like he belongs in a mental ward. Your eyes dart from the fruit to his face before you ask, "Are you...new here?"

Aventurine almost bristles, "What gave it away?" flying out of him before he can help it. There's no point in trying to guess on what you'll point out, really. The eyes, the identification brand, the perfectly symmetrical features and unblemished skin - he's heard it all before.

"The fruit," is what you say instead. "Usually a pet just uses their hands and teeth."

Aventurine blinks, stunned by your observation and by the fact that you would suggest such a thing. Then he recalls his days picking at the bones tossed into his cell for their marrow, its texture gritty with dirt rubbed off from his fingertips. You have a matching collar, and your docile smile is befitting that of any well-trained pet. He frowns and picks up the fruit, tossing it your way. "Show me how, then."

You catch the green fruit when it rebounds off your chest, offering him a toothless smile before joining his side at the counter. It's not enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough for him to pick up the faintest scent of something sweet. "If you want it to taste good," you start off, "you have to roll it. It loosens the pulp inside from the skin." The green fruit hits the counter with a thunk. Palm flat, you gently roll the fruint against the surface, then brandish one perfectly polished nail. "Then, you just-" You pierce the skin with your nail, carving a line down the skin. "And then you..." With deft fingers, you peel the skin apart, revealing a perfectly round, pale green orb of fruit. You leave just enough to form an odd bloom made of fruit skin with its flesh as the center, then gesture to it with a proud smile. "Tah-dah!"

It's nothing more than pointless flair, but your expectant smile makes Aventurine scoff before giving you a few claps. "Incredible," he drawls. "Truly impeccable craftsmanship."

You puff up under his praise. "Thank you," you say, even bowing at the waist. "I live to please."

Whatever good will Aventurine had felt sours at the remark, so he turns his attention to splitting the fruit apart. It comes in neat little segments, skin thin and beading with juice. "What does this even taste like?"

"Mm...tart?" you offer. "Sweet, juicy. Try it. It's a good treat to have during the hot months."

Aventurine takes a slice and pops it in his mouth. True enough, the skin bursts under his teeth, flooding his mouth with tart, but sweet juice, sharp enough to make him salivate in retaliation. He chews and swallows quickly, leaving his tongue tingling with flavor. Not unpleasant, he thinks, but still enough to make his face scrunch and go, "Blech."

"Not a fan?" Your lips twitch, a quiet laugh escaping you.

"Not exactly." Aventurine picks up another slice, popping it in his mouth before nudging the rest to you. "Here."

Your brows lift in surprise, but you accept the offer with a smile. You chew on the slice with little reaction, just resting your cheek on one fist as you lean against the counter. "So," you say, "who are you? You certainly aren't from Moriah."

"I'm not." Aventurine chews on the new slice, the tart juice burning as he swallows. "I was raised on Sigonia-IV."

"Explains the fruit," you note, rather than gasp and gawk at him with pity like everyone else who's ever seen him. "But you were brought here rather recently, yes? Who is your master?"

"...Lord Golan," Aventurine says, making sure to sound as hesitant and exhausted as possible. It must be enough; your face drops, this time displaying a storm of alarm, concern, and fear.

"And the Greater Lord allowed you to join the show..." you mutter as your expression finally settles on pity. "I'm sorry."

Sorry? Aventurine almost scoffs, but your stare seems so genuine he just squirms and mutters, "It doesn't matter now," just to get you to stop. "I wanted to join, anyway."

"I...see." Your hand inches up to your collar, pressing your fingers into the name carved into your throat. Whatever you're thinking, you seem to set it aside and just smile. "Then I suppose we'll be competing against one another."

"We will," Aventurine agrees, eyes drifting to the pantry. Beyond that wall is the hall connecting all of their dorms. From what he can tell, he'd been the last to arrive. "Are the others that afraid?"

You turn to follow his gaze. "Naomi, perhaps. The others just...aren't social." When you return to form, you just grimace. "Considering what we're participating in, I don't blame them. Making friends is a bit pointless."

Aventurine agrees wholeheartedly. The rules of the performance are straightforward and simple. There is no point in forming friendships when, in one month, only one person will emerge victorius. Still, he grabs another slice of fruit and gestures at you. "And yet here you are."

You just hum and pick a slice of your own. "Here I am." Juice drips from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue darts out to catch it, dragging against your lip and luring Aventurine's eyes along with it. "Is that so wrong?"

"No," he says once your tongue disappears, "but it does make me think you're up to something."

"I see." You make a face, almost like you're hurt, until it smoothes out into another demure smile. "I would just like to know who I will be performing with. We are singing duets, after all."

Ah, right. The competition won't be a singer attempting to perform their own pieces. It is still a collaborative effort, and whichever one shines brighter wins.

Aventurine's eyes narrow. Your smile thins. The tart acid on his tongue feels poisonous, burning whatever it'd grazed on its way down. In your plain robes and casual tone, it'd almost been enough for him to forget that all pets who enter the competition are those that their masters believe will make it to the live stages. No owner would bother allowing their pets to compete if they weren't good enough.

A simple gameshow with simple stakes: win over the crowd and live. Fail and die. Aventurine had watched all 48 seasons before landing on Moriah to figure out some way to convince Greater Lord Golan to allow the Interastral Peace Corporation to renegotiate the contract that had been in place with the previous dominant species before his ancestors colonized the land.

There are only two slices left of the fruit. Aventurine picks up one just as you pluck the other.

" Come out a winner, " the Greater Lord of Moriah had said to him during their meeting just hours ago. " Then I'll allow the IPC to land for a negotiation ."

A simple gamble with simple stakes: his life for his company to reclaim a lost planet. All or nothing. Aventurine pops the slice into his mouth as you do the same, savoring the tartness that washes over his tongue while yours catches another errant drop. He doesn't think he'd have it any other way.

Chapter Text

It takes two whole days before Aventurine really gets to meet the rest of the competition. Their identities are often kept secret until the live interviews next week, so all he knew were little details you'd given him the day he arrived.

He is one of the last to arrive in the living room when the alarm clock rings at 6 AM, where a Mox in a frilly apron coos over how cute human pets are when they're so sleepy and in pjs before preparing breakfast. A set of blonde twins hover protectively over a trembling twig of a girl. Another brawny, olive-skinned woman glares at the cityscape beyond the window. A lone teen, grey sweater hood pulled up and heel scratching at his shin, gives Aventurine a once-over before tossing himself onto the central couch. His legs fly up in the process, revealing a set of thin bands on his ankles under his equally grey sweatpants. As for you...

"Good morning!"

You greet Aventurine with a bright smile and a wave, shadowed by a man with sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline. Just meeting his stare makes him feel like a blade is being pressed against his neck.

"You're in a chipper mood," Aventurine drawls once he forces his eyes away from your threatening shadow. "Slept well, I'm assuming?"

"More or less." You wander towards the pantry, voice loud and clear as you say, "Does anyone want some broilberries?"

"I'll take some," the boy from the couch calls.

You hum in acknowledgement. "Lucy? Naomi?"

The brawny woman's jaw shifts before she grunts, "No, but...thank you." The words sound thick and heavy coming from her mouth, even with Aventurine’s Synesthesia Beacon at work.

The tiny twig pales and shrinks back as one of the twins scoffs, setting a protective hand on her shoulder. "You have no right to address Naomi, Morlock. "

The threatening man that had followed you frowns, chin lifting like he plans to speak up when the Mox bangs her spoon against the pot. She tuts with disapproval, one eye squinting towards the twins. "Watch your language, Eren! That kind of talk is a huge no-no."

Eren bristles, hissing, "Rene-" before his sister shuts him up with a glare. When he backs off, Rene lets out a sigh before adding, "Apologies, but no. We are waiting for the breakfast to be finished."

You finally emerge, hands filled with a bundle of vibrant purple berries. With a sharp "Kyoji, heads up!", you chuck the fruit at the boy, then return to the man who'd followed you into the room. "Leroy?"

Leroy holds a hand out and accepts the fruit with a nod. The entire exchange is so friendly and kind it makes Aventurine's skin crawl. When you offer a handful to him, he just grimaces and says, "Yeah, no," and waits for breakfast to be served.

At the dining table, Aventurine finds himself with plenty of space on either side, much like Kyoji and Lucy. You and Leroy are closest, two seats from his left. On the opposite end, Eren and Rene flank Naomi, the sister soothing the thin girl's back when she starts to tremble in her seat. The Mox says that the following breakfast items are designed to fill any hungry pup's stomach without causing them to gain too much weight. "Don't want to look too big on the stage!" she giggles as Aventurine pokes at the clear broth in his bowl. "Otherwise the salon will have to do a bunch of readjustments for your costumes and complain to your masters, 'nd we don't wanna hear that, yeah?"

No one responds. She happily chirps that they’ll get picked up for the groomers in an hour, then leaves.

The broth doesn't taste like much. The noodles, the vegetables, the bones - it feels like swallowing air, but there's weight in his stomach that fills him in just a few bites. When he glances at the other competitors, he finds them slowing down just the same. All save for Lucy, who keeps one arm protectively wrapped around her bowl as she scrapes the last of the vegetables off the side of the ceramic.

"Better slow down there, Amazon," Kyoji drones when she brings the bowl to her lips. "You're gonna explode if you keep on eating this shit."

Across the table, Eren scoffs. "You have no right to criticize her, Ravager . If anything, you should be eating more. Or do you miss the slop they serve at the kennels?”

Aventurine perks up at the accusatory tone, eyeing the two boys with amusement. Neither seem physically imposing, but from the way the twin was acting earlier, he wonders if a fight will break out before the competition even begins.

Unfortunately, you just clear your throat and draw their attention away. "Before you guys start," you say, "we...might need to redo introductions."

Whatever plan Aventurine had to just sit on the sidelines gets thrown out the window when they all look at him. Even Lucy sets down her (now empty) bowl to stare. It isn't anything out of the ordinary, he thinks. It's just like he sat down at a poker table five rounds in. That doesn't stop him from tensing when their eyes notably drift to the marking on his neck. Human pets are completely normal here, integrated well into their culture for centuries. To have a Slave mark is not noteworthy.

Rene is the first to break the silence. "Who are you?"

"The replacement, obviously," Eren mutters before squinting. "Better question is what your name is. Unless your owner seriously just named you Slave."

"He's new," you offer for Aventurine when his brows furrow with annoyance. "From...Sigonia-IV, right?"

He'd been planning to keep that quiet, too, but from the lack of reaction all around the table, Aventurine can only assume that none of them know how significant that is. Still, he makes the mental note to never tell you anything important ever again and nods. "That's right. Lord Golan said I was an...emergency entry. Just call me Aventurine."

"...really?" Kyoji finally sits up, eyeing Aventurine's face before smirking. "I would've expected the Greater Lord to put you in a breeding mill."

It takes far more control than he cares to admit to stop from scowling. "Excuse me?"

Kyoji drags down one lower lid, exposing the veiny curve of his eye. "With pretty eyes like that, your offspring would sell for...what, a few million? Especially with a good Imperial girl-"

"Shut. Up ."

All eyes snap towards Leroy. The man's severe expression darkens with each passing second, grip on his spoon so tight Aventurine is convinced it could pierce Kyoji's skin like any other knife. Beside him, you've gone quiet, hand resting on his shoulder as you muster a smile. "H-How about we start with names, then?"

Leroy doesn't break eye contact with Kyoji. Kyoji's amused smile falls into a focused, tense frown. His hand is starting to inch towards his own spoon.

"I am Lucy," the muscular woman announces suddenly. She looks quite pleased with herself, too.

You just clear your throat and add, "Where are you from, Lucy?"

Lucy grunts and sits up, muscles flexing when she tucks her arms across her chest. "I am from Amazonia. I am pleased to meet you."

So Aventurine wasn't imagining it. The Synesthesia Beacon allows him to communicate using the Moriah language in real time, but it still has its drawbacks against others who lack a beacon and especially those attempting to speak a foreign language on their own. "Amazonia? The Verdant Planet?"

Lucy's stern expression falters. "You have been?"

"I've...heard of it in passing.”  The IPC had its eye on the potential lumbermill for some time, but any and all attempts at landing on the planet had been met with fierce resistance from the indigenous population. "What's an Amazonian doing over here?"

"I am...offering. Peace between Kopenawa and Great Lord Golan," Lucy grunts. She massages the muscles straining under her collar, then finally sighs. "Forgive me. The Moriah language is a challenge."

"But you are doing very well!" Eren says, a surprising amount of pride in his tone. “The language of Moriah is hard for those raised outside of the planet.”

Lucy nods back, then waves a hand towards him. "You, Rene?"

Eren puffs up at the gesture while Rene massages the bridge of her nose. "Eren and Rene, Titans blessed by our ancestors Castor and Pollux-"

"Ignore him." Rene slaps a hand over his mouth, nodding to Aventurine when they make eye contact. He can only assume they are fraternal based on their genders, but their facial features, from their brow line to the way their lips curl with annoyance, are perfectly identical. It only makes the tiny, shaking brunette between them stick out even more. "We are Titans, and this is our friend, Naomi."

The brunette flinches at her own name. She only manages to meet Aventurine's curious stare for less than a second before sinking even deeper into Rene's shadow. Unlike the others, there is a rather fanciful necklace dangling underneath her collar, just long enough to rest over her clavicle: a red cord with a single coin fastened in the center, which she nervously rubs between her fingers.

"She's an Imperial," Kyoji whispers loudly and points to his collarbone. If he can feel Eren's murderous glare, he doesn't react. He just smiles and lifts a hand in a lazy salute. "You know me. Kyoji, Ravager."

"Criminal," Eren spits.

Kyoji just winks. "Hi."

That just leaves you and Leroy. The man doesn't seem as ready to kill Kyoji at least, just staring at his half-filled bowl while you reintroduce yourself. "Leroy and I come from the Mesh - the, uh, the Underground where a lot of the poorer folks live."

"And the Morlock thing?" Aventurine prompts.

"Just another word for a mixbreed," Kyoji explains for you. "Y'know, same as mutts, the impure, knockoffs, the ones that usually go on sale because they're defecti-"

Leroy rises from his seat. Aventurine braces himself for projectiles to be thrown, but the sharp-eyed man just picks up his and your bowls and heads to the sink. Lucy and Rene seem to follow his example, leaving the most volatile competitors and Naomi to stare at one another across the table.

So, you're a mixblood. Admittedly, none of this makes much sense to Aventurine. Had it not been for the prior knowledge that any pet-owning species would selectively breed traits into offspring like one would grow only the prettiest flower or largest fruit, he would have assumed the name Titan or Ravager were cultural terms. He can faintly recall hearing them thrown around in prior seasons. He didn’t think the actual pets adhered to them so strictly. Although, really, Aventurine shouldn’t be too surprised - his own people had been erased by others who’d held the same beliefs.

“So, Mr. Aventurine,” Kyoji drawls, “you know how the actual competition works, yeah? You can actually…y’know, sing ?”

“Of course I can,” Aventurine says flatly. “Why else would Lord Golan put me in?”

“For fun? I heard he gambled off half of his family fortune on kennel fights.”

Eren bristles, baring his teeth as he spits, “How dare you say such terrible things about our Great Lord!”

“ Eren- ” Rene shouts from the kitchen.

“I’m saying all of that because I won him the most money,” Kyoji says with a snort. “Lick their slime trail all you want, Titan. The Greater Lord ain’t gonna put his money behind you.”

This time, Aventurine swears Eren will snap. Not even you seem ready to intervene, hands on the edge of the table like you’re ready to bolt the second someone lunges. But you don’t have to.

“U-Um, Eren…” Naomi finally calls, barely more than a whisper. Eren tenses as she sits up, her fingers nervously tugging on her necklace. “P-Please, calm down. You know what’ll happen if we t-try to hurt each other before the-the…show.”

Eren’s fair skin flushes a dangerous shade of pink before he shoots to his feet. “Fine,” he chokes out, snatching Naomi’s bowl from her. “Whatever.”

Kyoji watches him leave, then stretches himself across the table with a satisfied hum, hood pooling onto the table. “He’s gonna get himself killed, acting like that.”

“D-Don’t say that,” Naomi forces out. She sits up like she actually has a spine, only to cave when Kyoji looks at her. “Eren is-he’s strong.”

“Ah, yes, because strength is what matters here,” the teen sneers. With his cheek on the table, he seems quite pleased when he asks, “Did you forget that you’re competition, too? If he’s that strong, then-”

“There’s no point in antagonizing her, Kyoji,” you cut in. Despite the tension thickening over the table, you still offer a small, friendly smile. “I wouldn’t mind going against Eren. He seems like a good performer.” 

Your tone is so cavalier that Aventurine can’t help but ask, “You do remember what happens if you lose, right?”

“Yeah,” you hum, “but at least I’ll enjoy myself.” 

The same Mox from before returns just as the others finish washing their dishes. Her eyes practically sparkle from the gesture, gushing over how kind and well-trained they all were before ushering everyone into the elevator. 

“Today’s just going to be preliminary grooming,” she explains while Aventurine is wedged between Lucy and Kyoji. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet with the stylists hired by your owners and have a photoshoot. Oh, I’m so excited for that one. It’s so fun seeing how they’ll dress you up-” He just tunes it out like he does whenever he’s at a business meeting. 

Eventually, the group ends up in a large, wooden complex with steam escaping from a chimney and infusing the air with the sharp, minty tang of chemicals. Alien silhouettes fill the paper-thin walls of the building. Somewhere in the distance, the soft twang of stringed instruments overpowers the roar of flying vehicles swarming overhead. They pass the stone wall guarding the building, and as the Mox continues to gush about her favorite outfits from former seasons, Aventurine hears you gasp. 

“So this is what a professional salon looks like,” you whisper. 

“You have never been?” Lucy asks. “It is like old Moriah people building, yes? I was brought to one a lot since I arrived.”

You just laugh and rub your collar, sheepish. “That Which Wanders didn’t like anyone touching Leroy or I.” At your side, Leroy just frowns and shrugs.

“Then be sure to observe the proper etiquette,” Eren warns, sending a pointed glare at Kyoji before finally landing on Aventurine. His expression wavers until he stiffly explains, “You should not wear footwear into a building like this. The filth is bad luck.”

“Bad luck?” Aventurine echoes. He almost wants to put a foot on the wood, just to see how the twin would react, but seeing that even Kyoji removes his sandals spurs him on. With careful steps, he removes his boots and follows the group inside. A small cluster of scaled Moxes greet them in the long hall beyond the door. With each sliding door they pass, one person is removed from their group, whittling down until it is just him. 

The inside of his room looks less like a spa and more like a torture room. Another scaled Mox with four arms and one long, flexing muscle for legs stands next to a metal slab for a table, casually picking up unlabelled bottles and something that looks a bit too much like a scalpel between its claws. 

Aventurine barely has time to process that sight before something starts tugging at his shirt. “Hey!” he shouts, whirling around. The smaller Mox bristles under his glare, snapping their own claws at his clothes.

“Take them off,” they hiss. “Do not make us use the anesthetic!”

Aventurine scowls, muttering, “I can do it myself,” before removing his clothes. With the humidity clogging the salon, he doesn’t exactly feel cold, but it doesn’t make him feel any better, either. He folds his clothes and hands it to the smaller Mox, then hoists himself onto the table, jaw tight. He’s done this before, he tells himself. He has been through worse. The tremor in his hand does not ease.

The larger Mox finally turns, six eyes blinking out of sync as they loom over him. “Hm…” Their tail drags across the floor, filling the room with a dreadful hiss. Claws pinch at his wrist, lifting an arm up. “Well-fed.” They drop the arm and prod at his torso. “Muscular, but not too much.” Finally, all six eyes land on Aventurine’s face, blink once, then widen. “And those eyes…” Aventurine readies himself for some kind of backhanded remark, but the Mox just tucks his hair out of the way with a gentle claw. “I’m sorry that you are here.”

And the heat must be getting to him, because he swears he thinks a hint of genuine pity in the alien’s voice. 

The work passes quickly, the two Moxes muttering and hissing between themselves as they go. His Beacon picks up ‘ natural beauty ’ and ‘ little scarring ’, and after a quick douse in some sticky sap, he is urged onto his feet and given a towel for his waist. The smaller Mox escorts him back into the hall, taking a sharp turn right before throwing open a new door. Beyond it, a giant, circular pool steams in the center, framed with giant rocks and bamboo he recognizes from other planets. All around, little waterfalls feed green liquid into the water, filling the room with a soft burble. 

“Sit in the water for at least thirty minutes,” the attendant orders, then promptly shuts the door before he can say anything. 

“Terrible customer service,” he mutters anyway. 

“It’s not that bad,” a familiar voice calls from the pool. Through the steam, Aventurine spots your smiling face over the water, a towel folded neatly on your head. “Just hurry and come in before your body gets too cold.”

“And what do I do with the towel?” he asks. 

You blink, then awkwardly sink deeper into the water. “Eren told me it’s not allowed to get wet.” 

…what the hell kind of tradition is that? Aventurine squints through the steam, looking for any trace of the uptight Titan. He isn’t around, it seems, but that only strengthens his resolve. “I’ll…stay out here.”

“I…wouldn’t recommend that, either,” you say. “That sap they put on us is meant to purge potential infections and diseases. If it hardens, you’ll have to get surgery to remove it.” You shudder despite the warmth of the room. “Those who try to peel it off on their own don’t, um, survive. ”

And that just won’t do, will it? Aventurine scowls and approaches the pool, grip tight on his towel. At least you turn around without prompting, even covering your eyes with your towel as he slips one foot into the water. It is just hot enough to make him grimace, but he forces himself deeper into the water as he sets his towel on a rock within reaching distance. “They seriously couldn’t give us separate pools to do this?” 

“Why would they?” you ask. “It’s cheaper to just have a communal space.”

“...Not wrong on that one.” Aventurine leans against the rocks, water warming the sap still clinging to his skin. The pool is plenty large enough to leave some distance between you and him. There isn’t much to be ashamed of, anyways, but something in him still squirms in discomfort. “You can turn around, by the way. I’m decent.”

You slowly turn, peeking through your fingers before relaxing. “If it’s any consolation,” you say, “I think I’m almost done?”

“How?” Aventurine asks. “When did you finish?”

“Mm…fifteen minutes ago?” You flash him another friendly smile. “The groomer couldn’t find much to work with.”

Aventurine snorts at that. “Quite the natural beauty then, hm?”

“Bred and raised.” You let out a cheerful little laugh, missing the IPC agent’s grimace in favor of drifting towards one of the thin waterfalls. “But you’re not so bad yourself, if you finished right after me.” 

“Can’t help it.” Aventurine gestures to his face and hopes he manages to control the bitterness in his tone when he says, “It’s all in the genes.” 

It must have worked; you let out another soft laugh, then move your towel to allow the waterfall to trickle over your head. With a pleased hum, you begin to sink lower until your jaw disappears into the water. He wonders if you’ll just drown yourself, but you keep your nose just above the surface and fall into a blissful silence. Aventurine almost feels jealous at the sight. How can you be so calm in a situation like this? 

There’s no use dwelling on it, he thinks. You’re competition. The actual rounds won’t be announced until next week, on stage during the live interviews. After that, he’ll have a week to work with whoever he’s fighting against, then repeat it all until one emerges victorious. 

He imagines he’ll have his best chance competing against Naomi, Lucy, or Eren. Rene seems to be the composed one of the pair and Kyoji is too much of an instigator to not know how to work something to his advantage. Leroy is a bit of an anomaly, but something in Aventurine’s gut is starting to think that you might be the bigger issue between the Morlocks. You’d been the only one to openly greet him, insist on introductions and draw as much attention to his presence as possible. Were you trying to make sure he didn’t slip under the radar and give himself enough space to plan? Was your friendly first meeting just a way to test the waters? 

But at least I’ll enjoy myself. 

You don’t seem to care that you might die in two weeks. Aventurine isn’t quite sure what to make of that. 

“...hey.”

Aventurine blinks, surprising himself. When did he even close his eyes? The sap on his body feels much thinner than before. Did he doze off? 

“What?” he grunts as he tries to blink off his exhaustion. 

You’re still sitting under your waterfall, little rivulets tracing the contours of your face as you lift yourself just enough to keep your lips above the water. “What is it like out there, beyond the sky?” you ask. “Does Moriah look nice?”

Aventurine’s face scrunches, this time in confusion. “Why?” 

“Lucy told me that Moriah isn’t as green as Amazonia.” Your lips quirk into a small smile. “I told her that it wasn’t a fair comparison.”

Ah. Right. He’d all but left the magic of interstellar travel behind the second he’d joined the IPC. There isn’t much to look at through the windows of his personal ship, just the same empty void and smattering of stars. “It’s…boring,” he admits. “You see one advanced civilization, you see them all.” 

He almost expects you to wilt at the news, but you just hum. “Is that the same with your home planet?”

His thoughts falter. Faint memories of sloping dunes and the smell of the first rain after a drought burns his senses, floating through the steam before him before vanishing into nothing. He had barely been ten when the attacks occurred. Whatever images he can recall are soaked in red.

“I don’t remember.” Aventurine sinks into the water and almost wishes he would dissolve. “I haven’t been there for a while.” 

“...oh.” The soft ripples caused by your shifting draws his gaze. You’re sitting up, expression blurry from the steam emanating from the water. When he focuses, you’re just barely smiling. “I’m sure it was beautiful.”

The air smells like metal. Aventurine just shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

The room falls silent after that. He can’t find anything clever to say. You don’t seem willing to engage any further. He almost wishes that you would, just to distract from the pressure mounting in his head, but from how you’ve submerged yourself to your lips, he doubts he’ll hear a thing from you. 

It takes until his thirty minutes are up for another figure to enter the room. From the broad shoulders and stocky frame, Aventurine doesn’t have to guess hard: Leroy. 

The man seems to almost glow from his treatment, hair trimmed to a short crop. All along his arms and torso stretch gnarled, waxy scars. Compared to your completely blank skin, he looks like a corpse walking itself off of a battlefield. 

“You’re out faster than I expected,” you admit. 

“...they were very handsy,” Leroy says and-

“Woah, hey!” Aventurine throws an arm over his eyes before the Morlock can remove his towel. He gropes for his own and drags it into the pool, wrapping it firm around his waist. Traditions be damned, he decides. He’s had enough of this damned heat.

Chapter Text

When Aventurine arrives in his room to meet his ‘stylist’ for the photoshoot, all he finds is a single card next to a bowl of snacks called Puppy Chow that reads:

I hear Avgins know how to make anything beautiful. Figure it out yourself. - GLG

Which just translates into Aventurine wearing a plain black V-neck long sleeve, white trousers, and a trenchcoat he finds in the room’s wardrobe. It’s very reminiscent of his actual work outfit (without all of his accessories - really, his fingers have never felt so naked even with the gloves.) and serves as a nice reminder of why he’s actually here: business. Simple as that. 

“Look at you, Mr. Salaryman,” Kyoji calls from the couch beside the snack table for the staff. “What, did the Greater Lord not hire anyone for you?”

“I could say the same for you,” Aventurine drawls. The teen is still dressed in grey sweatpants and sweater; the only reason he can tell they’re new is the small tag sewn into the ankle. “Is that seriously what you’re going to wear for the photoshoot?”

“Part of the agreement.” Kyoji thrusts one leg up, fabric shifting and exposing the band fastened around his ankle. “Gotta stay in uniform if I wanted to compete.”

Wanted to compete? He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised that someone could volunteer considering his own situation (even if the rest believe otherwise). Not to mention Eren calling the teen a criminal earlier. If anything, it only affirms his suspicions about the Ravager. To be able to reach the live stages of the competition without an owner to rely on means his talents must be extraordinary. That, or the showrunners were hoping that having a criminal perform would draw in views.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aventurine catches a glimpse of polished metal storming into the room. It’s Lucy, dressed in…“What,” he says hesitantly as he takes in the woman’s outfit, “are you wearing?”

It’s barely more than a two-piece bathing suit made out of metal and string. A long strip of cloth dangles in front of her waist. Sandals and string tied up to her knees only accentuates the muscle of her legs. The only thing that offers a hint of modesty for Lucy is the cloak attached to her shoulderpads, which she aggressively tugs over her torso as she marches up to them. “They said to play up my people’s looks,” she says, tone bitter. “They say this is ‘traditional’ warrior attire. Bah. No warrior would wear this!”

“But it will get you attention,” Aventurine counters. “Imagine how many people will vote for you solely for your appearance.”

Lucy’s face twitches, but she channels whatever complaints she must have into covering herself as best she can. “The twins…they are at an advantage. It will not matter.”

Aventurine follows the woman’s glare to the center of the room, where Eren and Rene continue to shift and pose, dressed in smokey grey suits and blue ties that only further emphasizes their pale skin and paler hair. Each pose keeps them flushed, chest to chest and hands on everything but themselves. It's intimate to an almost uncomfortable degree, but their icy eyes are just that - cold, unflinching. He can’t help but be impressed; they must be gunning for fans of twincest. “Are the Mox into that kind of thing?”

“Hah.” Kyoji rests his chin on his forearms. “I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that, outsider.”

“Done!” the lead photographer suddenly barks. Eren and Rene are quick to untangle themselves from each other, brushing out the wrinkles in their suit. Two of its eyes remain glued to the screens, but a third splits through its lumpy, red back to glare at the trio. “Where is the Imperial?! I don’t have all day!” 

“Go get her yourself, asshole,” Kyoji calls back. 

“Hey!” Eren snaps, only for Rene to sigh.

“Calm down. Won’t do us any good to fight now.” she says before shoving her brother aside. “ I’ll get her.”

The photographer scoffs, body jiggling from the gesture. “Fine. You, the one with the pretty eyes, over here!”

Aventurine’s cheek twitches, a mix of irritation and amusement when Eren bristles. He saunters up to the photoshoot, smile growing when the familiar heat of the stand lights warms his skin. “Aw, don’t look too nervous,” he says. “I’ve got plenty of experience.” 

“Shut up,” Eren forces out between clenched teeth. He takes a deep, shakey inhale, sighs, and faces the photographer. “Well, sir? What would you like us to-”

“Ah, hush.” The photographer holds up a tendril, eyes shifting between the pair before wiggling another at one of the assistants. “Grab the camelback!”

The photoshoot goes…well, Aventurine has been through worse. He isn’t instructed to touch Eren, thankfully, mostly just standing behind the humped back of the couch or stretching out across the cushions. By the time he finishes his solo shoots, Naomi finally emerges from her room with Rene. Jewels reflect a rainbow of light all over the set, woven into her elaborate bun and weighted black dress, its skirt bunched in her fist as she stumbles forward in paper-thin heels. The only part of her that the IPC agent recognizes is her necklace, still secured to her neck.

“Dazzling,” he mutters under the photographer’s enraged shouting. 

Naomi flushes, although he can’t exactly tell if it’s from embarrassment or exhaustion. “T-Thank you…” She fans herself with one ring-encrusted hand. “You look, um, nice .”

Aventurine clicks his tongue. “Your hesitation makes me think otherwise.”

The deeper flush is definitely from embarrassment. “N-No! I don’t-I just…um…” Naomi’s eyes dart to the snack table, where Eren immediately softens and shoots her a supportive thumbs up. The second she looks away, he returns to glaring at Aventurine. “Wasn’t expecting this outfit. It’s a bit distracting.” 

“Don’t like it?”

“It sucks .” The vitriol dripping from her voice almost makes Aventurine laugh, but he clamps it down when she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispers, “that was rude. Forgive me.”

Aventurine eyes the tiny girl drowning in her gown and jewelry, then pretends to zip his lips shut. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Eren takes Aventurine’s place once he is finished with Naomi. Rene, Lucy, and Kyoji are chatting amicably, the Amazon even scooting over on the couch to offer the agent a seat. He declines, instead scanning the warehouse before finally asking, “Are the other two seriously still getting ready?”

Rene blinks and mimics his gesture, as if just now realizing their absence. “That’s…surprising. How did Naomi finish before them?”

“Maybe their costumes are very complicated?” Lucy offers. 

“I thought they came from the slums,” Aventurine says. “Their owner - what’d they say…That Which Wanders? What do they even do?”

“ It ,” Kyoji corrects with a wave of his hand, “is an undertaker. I’ve met it a few times before when it worked a round at the kennels. Was about as friendly as the bodies it was undertaking.”

The information stews in Aventurine’s mind as he steps away to grab a drink. Somehow, the fact that an undertaker owns two humans like you and Leroy does and does not surprise him. No wonder you’re so oddly friendly. Maybe being raised by a thing that works with dead bodies starved you for any kind of contact with the living. It’s almost amusing, but the marking carved into his skin starts to burn. He snatches a cup off the table, chugging down the water when-

“Sorry we’re late!” you call and Aventurine doesn’t choke , but he’s close. You’re in some kind of black, sleeveless two-piece, top hemmed with silver thread. In the center of your chest is a hole cut into the shape of a four-pointed star, its top and bottom stretched to split the top in half. Tailcoats sprout to frame your waist. Underneath it all shimmers purple and blue fabric reminiscent of a clear night sky. The only accessories you bear are a set of silver greaves and vambraces, matching the antler-like crown tucked in your hair, each as brilliant as your smile.

When Leroy trails after you, barefoot and barely dressed in fluttering white cloth, Aventurine can’t help but stare. Side by side, the pair are a clear depiction of the Hunt and Abundance. The clothes, the accessories…even Leroy’s make-up softens his sharp angles into one more merciful and kind. As far as Aventurine is aware, the humans of Moriah once worshiped the Aeons before the aliens ‘immigrated’ here, and he assumes religious freedom disappeared along with it. Still, this must be sacrilegious on some level. He doubts the Greater Lord cares. 

“What took you so long?” Kyoji asks once the pair reach the table. “Decided to get a little busy in the dressing rooms?” 

“What? No.” You elbow Leroy’s side, still smiling bright. “ Someone here wanted a last second costume change, so the stylist had to do some alterations.” 

Leroy doesn’t flinch from the strike. He simply crosses his arms, causing the cloth to shift and bare his entire chest to the others. “It was too…revealing.”

“If you think that is revealing,” Lucy mutters, only to twitch when the photographer shouts for her to join Naomi on set. With a heavy sigh, she rises to her feet and lifts her chin as her cape spills open. If she sees just how quickly Eren and Naomi flush pink, she does not react. 

“It is a beautiful outfit,” Rene offers stiffly, eyes glued to your crown. “Did you base it off of something?”

You’re hovering over the snack table, swaying on your feet until you pluck an elongated berry from a bowl. “That Which Wanders wanted to honor some old gods,” you say before chuckling. “It’s the first time I’ve ever worn such nice clothes, so I won’t complain.”

The thoughts catch in Aventurine’s mind as he eyes your outfit. You’d worn simple white robes for the past two days, easily stainable fabric that wouldn’t last an hour in a slum. Now, you keep stroking a finger over the silver vambrace, tugging on the fabric of your coattail like you still can’t believe it’s attached to you. It only makes the burning on his throat even worse.

The rest of the photoshoot passes in boredom. He and Kyoji simply lounge on a couch together. With Leroy, the photographer spends twenty minutes attempting to get the Morlock to make any other expression, then settles for the man’s deadpan stare as he and Aventurine are rearranged into their poses. He and Rene are given gambling props together, while Lucy is forced to flex her impressive muscles against Aventurine’s casual posing. With you, the photographer lifts the camera, stops, then orders for someone to grab the prop weapons they have.

“I promise I won’t shoot you,” you offer when they give you a bow and arrow.

“Very reassuring,” Aventurine says when the shiny fruit is perched upon his head. 

After aiming a real revolver with no ammunition at your head and almost being stabbed by a dagger in return, he is finally dismissed. It gives him the chance to watch you work with the rest of the competition. You manage to get Eren to crack when the photographer asks for a serious face. Lucy’s smile grows to match yours when you offer her your crown. Not even Naomi seems immune, hiding her face with one hand as you laugh. The only one who weathers your excitement is Leroy, and Aventurine suspects it’s because the man knew you well before this.  

You wanted to enjoy yourself, he recalls, and you seem to be doing just fine.

-

Their schedule only gets busier after that, preparing outfits and health screenings, dragged this way and that by the Mox staff before being deposited back at their shared dorms well past sunset. At some point, the group does not get to see the sun for the entire day, dragged out at 0400 and returned at 0200 the next morning. Not even you can maintain your cheerful smile when they’re crammed into the elevator, instead slumped against Lucy’s back as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

“What happened to keeping us in good health for the competition?” Aventurine hisses, using your shoulder for an armrest. Not even their usual Mox had followed them into the elevator, apparently too eager to go home herself. 

To his left, Kyoji shields his eyes from the fluorescents with his hood. “Do you think we’ll get in trouble if we just don’t leave our rooms tomorrow?” 

“They’d probably kill us,” Rene groans and tugs on her collar.

Clinging to Eren’s neck, Naomi sleepily sighs, “Eternal sleep…that sounds nice.”

And maybe the exhaustion is worse than they realize because Leroy starts chuckling, and it spreads so hard and fast that Aventurine can barely see, let alone breathe by the time they reach the actual floor. The Mox finds them all passed out on the communal couch four hours later.

But the days pass. Before Aventurine knows it, it is the day of their debut and the start of the last days of their lives. 

“We’ll come pick you up at 1600 to bring you to the studio,” the Mox explains as breakfast is served. “Guests will be allowed inside at 1700 and the actual cameras start rolling at 1800, so you’ll have plenty of time to prepare yourselves for the interviews at 1830. Once all the interviews are done, you’ll be free to meet with your owners and interact with the crowd.” She giggles and squirms with excitement. She does not see Naomi’s hands trembling. Aventurine does no matter how hard he tries not to. “Oh, it’ll be so exciting! You guys will love it so much. They hire some of the best chefs in all of Moriah to prepare the meals. If you’ve never tried gold-leafed mint meat, you definitely should before you go.”

Aventurine has tried gold-leafed mint meat once. It was not designed for the average hominid stomach. He only managed to keep it down because it’d been served as a rare delicacy imported for a client’s dinner and he couldn’t afford to make himself look like an idiot. 

No one speaks during breakfast. No one lingers in the living room once it is over. Aventurine spends his time looking over the notes he’d taken before he landed on the planet, but that only lasts for an hour before he wastes the rest of it just staring at the landscape beyond his window. If one could put aside the advertisements for human-pet products plastered all over the billboards, it looks like the kind of metropolitan he’d be fine with getting lost in for a few days. Hell, some of the gambling halls here outrank ones run on Penacony galaxies away. Hopefully, once the IPC gets their foot in the door, they can clean up the place and make it a little…Aventurine’s eyes drift to his reflection’s throat, then scoffs. “Who am I kidding?”

At the studio, the makeup artists are thoroughly stumped with his face and decide to just leave it as is. With the Greater Lord’s good graces, he’s given access to an entire wardrobe of every style he can imagine. He’s surprised to find his old rings and watch sitting among the accessories and fish those out. He passes over the suits, eyes a rather elegant dress before realizing its skirt would drag, then stops when he finds a knee-length tunic tucked in the far back. All along the sleeves and down the center is an intricately stitched geometric pattern, embroidered with turquoise thread. Based on the stark wrinkles in the fabric, it must have been folded up for some time and unearthed only now. 

“Hey,” he calls to the assistant outside, “I need an ironing board.”

Once he’s fully dressed, he’s escorted to the green room. The small room has a projector displaying the interview stage, along with plenty of comfortable seats and snacks for the competitors to use while waiting for their turn. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for a green room, really, but knowing this will be the place they’ll sit in while watching their competitors’ execution makes his skin crawl. It’s made no better when he spots you. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised you finished so quickly, but your arms are folded tight, fingernails biting your bare biceps. There is tension in your jaw, a dark glare in your eye he didn’t realize you could manage.

“Hey.” Aventurine’s fingers curl, a flicker of concern weaving through his nerves. “What’s with the face?”

Your eyes flutter, and you quickly shove your hands into your pockets, flashing him the same smile he’d assumed was your neutral expression since he arrived. “Sorry, just got lost in…thought.” You push off the table, eyeing Aventurine’s outfit with open surprise. “Where did you find a Chalav shirt?”

“A what?”

“ Chalav ,” you repeat. “It’s this old breed of human that had the ‘gift of healing’ or something. Not a lot of them exist anymore - high content ones, at least.” You chuckle again, this time rubbing at the tattoo on your throat. “That Which Wanders knows way more about them than I do, though. It has a shirt just like that.”

“Huh.” Aventurine looks down at the fabric. He’d only chosen it because it almost reminds him of the dirty rags hidden in the back of his own closet. “Sorry to your owner, then, but I’ll be needing this tonight.”

“Hey, knock yourself out. At least it’s being worn by someone .” 

Something shifts in your tone, and when he looks up, your smile is so soft and pleased it makes the Avgin go stiff. It’s not normal. There is something hidden behind it that makes Aventurine’s instincts scream. It makes his fingers spasm, desperate to pinch a card or flip a coin, anything but remain empty and give himself away. What did that mean? Is he missing something? Your smile suggests something deeper related to the shirt, but what?

“Aventurine?” 

The IPC agent blinks. In the midst of his spiraling, you’d plucked a familiar green fruit from the snack table. One slice is already in your hand, outstretched to him. 

“Hmph.” Aventurine takes the slice, allowing the sour juice to sting his tongue and ground his thoughts. “What about you? I’m assuming your stylist wanted a business casual look?” 

You look down at your slacks and sleeveless top before shrugging. “I burnt all of my style on the photoshoot,” you admit. “I’ll just let that speak for me.”

“And not your actions tonight?” Aventurine asks. “This is prime time to ingratiate yourself to the audience. You can’t afford to mess up.”

“I know, I just-Leroy and I didn’t exactly have a chance to practice,” you say before pouting. “This’ll be the biggest stage we’ve ever been on. Even Kyoji’s used to performing at the kennels. ”

Aventurine hums, almost tempted to remind you that this is life or death and that it won’t matter too much if you end up losing. It’s probably not the best thing to say to try and carry a conversation though, so he sets that aside. “Eh, I doubt Naomi’s will go any better.”

“I doubt it. She trained at the Anakt Garden with Eren and Rene, and they have one of the highest survival rates out of all the music schools on Moriah.”

“That’s…” Aventurine grimaces at the sour juice burning his throat. “Interesting. I knew this competition was popular in Moriah, but to have a whole school dedicated to it?” 

“You’d be surprised.” You let out a weary sigh before offering him your last slice and a tired smile. “No point in complaining though, right? How are you feeling?”

Nothing. Or, well, ambivalent? It is a death game he’d volunteered for, but the odds of him dying because of some bad luck is pretty high. But seeing as he needs to win to fulfill his contract, he just settles for a lazy shrug and pushes the fruit back towards you. “I just want to know who I’ll be competing against. At least that way I can start planning.”

Your smile falters. “Yeah…” After a beat, you elbow him and snicker. “Planning your escape?” 

The jab nearly makes him sputter, but instinct overtakes him as he says, “Trust me, friend, I don’t make deals that don’t pay off.” Win, lose, the IPC will have to intervene. After all, killing one of the Ten Stonehearts will, at least, drag the rest of the Strategic Investment Department into investigating. Greater Lord Golan can’t prove that he didn’t force Aventurine into the competition, either. He also knows that Topaz’s bleeding heart wouldn’t leave the planet without some kind of plan to dismantle the human-pet industry. So, really, his job will be done no matter what.

“Even if it results in you losing everything else?” It’s barely louder than a whisper, but it still pierces through Aventurine’s thoughts like an arrow through the dark. You’re still fiddling with the fruit peel, but that same, dark gaze is starting to creep back in, cold and consuming. There is the faintest tremor to your fingertips, and just as fast as it comes, it disappears. “Aw, Rene, look at you!” you call when you look over his shoulder. “So sparkly.”

“I could do without the sarcasm,” Rene says flatly. Her platinum hair has been meticulously curled and tied up, decorated with pearls and glitter until she shimmers as bright as Moriah’s cityscape. She doesn’t seem to have as much trouble in her heels as Naomi did during the photoshoot, although he assumes it’s more to do with the thicker heel than skill. “You two look…” Her eyes hesitate on Aventurine’s shirt before she finally forces out, “Well-dressed.”

“Thanks,” Aventurine says dryly. 

“Thanks!” You reach back and pick up another fruit, piercing the skin with a thumb. “Want some?” 

One by one, the competitors filter into the green room, faces painted and clothes pressed. You, Kyoji, and Lucy seem to carry most of the conversation, talking excitedly about space travel and how surely there must be another planet out there greener than Amazonia, how their outfits are each so simple and still probably more than they could ever afford. At one point, you laugh a bit too harshly, like you’re trying to get it all out before the show begins. It’s almost enviable.

But as the stage is set and guests are allowed in, the green room falls quiet. Eren keeps himself glued to Naomi’s side while Rene paces, the Imperial’s hands clutched painfully tight around her necklace. Lucy busies herself with the snacks on display. Surprisingly, Leroy does not follow you when you return to your dressing room, instead opting for a seat before the projector. Kyoji, who is set to open the interviews, just waits at the door for his cue. 

Aventurine doesn’t bother trying to break the silence. He just continues to readjust the rings on his fingers until his nerves are settled. 

Then the speakers crackle as a multi-limbed monstrosity on the stage churns up a cacophony of sound and the show begins. 

-

“ And, without further delay, let’s meet our first contestant! If you haven’t seen his face before you’ve certainly heard of his exploits. This beast of the battlefield has gone on a 100 win streak in the kennels, and that’s not even COUNTING those he killed before he was caught! From serial killer to superstar, it’s KYOJI! ”

“Heh, evening everyone. Hope you guys haven’t been betting on other dogs while I was away.”

“Hahaha, you know we never would! No one gets results quite like you. But tell me, Kyoji, a little birdy told me that you actually decided to volunteer for this season! Why’s that?”

“Oh, it’s simple, really. I was bored.”

“ Bored?! ”

“Bored! C’mon, you can’t tell me you’ve gotten a little bored hosting this show for the past fifty years.”

“ Well, if you really want me to be honest-Haha! No, no, I’m kidding. But I can see where you’re coming from. A hundred wins in the kennels seems like a nice place to stop. ”

“Ah, not just stop. ”

“ Oh? ”

“I plan on stepping up, and this stage will be the perfect stone I need.”

“ Oh! Look at me, my hairs are all on edge! Do you have anything you wanna say to your fans before we continue? ”

“...yeah. To my, uh, loyal fans that have supported me every step of the way, who kept me going in the kennels when I was at death’s doors? I dedicate my performance to you.”

-

“ Now I expect everyone to give our next contestant the applause that she deserves, because even those in the nosebleeds should mind their manners. This foreign femme fatale has got the looks, the power, all the men she can devour! Our lovely lady from beyond the stars, give it up for Princess LUCY! ”

“Ah, thank you, but it is just Lucy.” 

“ Well then, Just Lucy, how are you enjoying Moriah? ”

“It is…quite beautiful. Such incredible buildings, powerful technology. I see why Kopenawa would want to ally with the Greater Lord.”

“ Bah, so formal and political, Princess. I want to hear your opinion on something fun. Exciting! ”

“Exciting? Hm…your food is…”

“ Is… ”

“...edible? Hah, forgive me. I forget the word!” 

“ Haha, that’s alright! Let’s see…do you mean exquisite? Immaculate? Indescribable?! ”

“Y-Yes to all three?” 

“ Hahaha! Perhaps the world will never know. I do have a question, though. You’ve been living on Moriah for a few years now, and I just have to ask you: do you miss home? ”

“...of course. I do not have many chances to explore. There are not many forests, nor wildlife. It is beautiful, but…cold.”

“ Ah…such is the price to pay for civilization. ”

“And a large price it is.”

-

“ Let’s slow down our momentum a little, shall we? Our third contestant may be a bit of a newcomer to some of you, but to any Mox breeder worth their slime, this lovely lady is a sight to behold. Introducing the Imperial beauty herself, it’s NAOMI! ”

“H-Hello…”

“ Ah, Miss Naomi, it really is an honor to meet you! With the dwindling rates of pure Imperial bloodlines these days, so many breeders refuse to let their pets compete. ”

“...I-I…I guess that makes me the exception.”

“ It would seem so! But it’d be a shame to let your talents go to waste, too. Topping charts without having to compete in the show? That takes quite a bit of skill.”

“And...”

“ Hm? It seems our mics didn’t pick that up, my dear! ”

“...and cash. ”

“ Hah! And it seems you’ve got a bit of bite after all! Well, it’s only expected that your owners would be able to back you up there. Owning an Imperial is never cheap. ”

“...me…”

“ What was- ”

“They could always let me go…t-though I…I guess they already have.”

“ O-Oh, now, now. Don’t look so downcast! Don’t you hear your fans? The crowd? They’re cheering for you, Miss Naomi. They love you! ”

“I-I…I love you, too.”

“ Oh, Miss Naomi! With such a lovely declaration, I’m more confident than ever that you’ll be just fine! ”

“...if only.”

-

“ We remember the Titans, right? Powerful, headstrong? The ones whose ancestors helped us pave Moriah’s path to civilization? Well, you’re about to recognize our next set of guests. That’s right: a set! Regulation states we interview them one at a time, so make some noise for EREN! ”

“Hello! It is such an honor to be competing this year.”

“ And it is such an honor to be meeting you, as well! I’ve heard plenty about your exploits in the Anakt Garden, young man, and let me tell you, I’ve never been more excited to see someone compete in years! ”

“I-Is that so? I hope I don’t disappoint, then. A-And when you say ‘exploits’...”

“ Don’t turn so pink on me yet. It was just about those little scuffles you used to get into.”

“I see-”

“Although your vow to protect your sister has also been watched millions of times by yours truly! ”

“Oh, no…I-It was truly a spur of the moment. I was young-”

“ But it was so sweet, too! How rare it is for both Titan twins to reach full maturity.” 

“Well, I have our master to thank for that, really. He cares deeply for us, and we owe our lives to him. As for my, uh, vow…I’m sure any sibling would say the same.”

“ And such a lovely, humble soul, too. Your master must be so proud of you, Eren. Still, I hear that Titan twins who reach maturity have quite a bit of trouble when it comes to successful breeding due to their attachment to their sibling. Is that the-”

“T-That is a bit, ah, inappropriate, isn’t it?!”

“ Hm? I think I smell a bit of a fun story behind that! ”

“I-Wait-No!”

“ Haha! Alright, I relent! If you get any pinker, you’ll pass out! Although that might make you go viral again… ”

“Ah, I’d rather let my performance speak for me.”

“ And I’m sure it will, lover boy. I’m sure it will.”

-

“ You all know who I’m calling next. Every light has its shadow, every smile a warning. For every Castor, there’s Pollux, and every Eren, a marvelous, mysterious RENE!”

“Marvelous and mysterious, hm?”

“ Am I missing anything? ”

“Mm…let’s start with ‘older’ twin.”

“ Oho, I see! So, older twin, tell me! You and Eren are practically the same when it comes to their genes, but what makes you stand out against your brother? ”

“Well, I never got in trouble at the Anakt Garden, for one. And between us, I recall always receiving the higher marks in our classes.”

“ Quite the rival! ”

“Oh, please. A rival would actually be my equal.”

“ Haha! I doubt Eren’s handling that very well in the green room.”

“He’ll live.”

“ Ruthless, Miss Rene. How about the rest of the competition, hm? Anyone you see out there that could be a threat?”

“Hm…I suppose there are, but there’s no point in calling them out now.”

“ How about someone you’ll want to go against this round?”

“That’s the same question!”

“ Hahaha! Nothing gets past you, Rene. Truly a steel trap. ”

“I have to be if I want to win.”

-

“ We’ve been chatting with a few familiar faces, sure, but nobody loves an underdog more than the spotlight! Our last three guests might be newcomers to the stage, but that doesn’t mean they can’t sing like a bird in a cage, and they’re here to fight for their share of fame! First up, give it up for LEROY! ”

“...Thank you for having me.”

“ And thank you for gracing us with your presence! You’re quite the looker. You’re a Morlock, yeah? Are you sure you don’t have any Imperial blood in you? ”

“No.” 

“ I bet you do. No one can look that tall, dark, and handsome without some Imperial blood, haha! Now, unlike our last handful of competitors, a lot of what we know about you comes from your application forms. So, outside of that, tell me, who is Leroy? ”

“...me.”

“ ...oh, that’s it? Hahaha! ”

“What else is there to say?”

“ Oh, you know: likes, dislikes, hobbies, friends…lovers? ”

“Ah. I see. I like the color white. I dislike small spaces. My hobby is cleaning, and my friend…”

“ Your friend… ”

“...they are here with me.”

“ Ah, how sweet. It always brings me to tears when competitors have history. ”

“We agreed to compete in the same season. It doesn’t matter.”

“ Oho, I believed the writers call that a suicide pact. ”

“I disagree.”

“ How so? ”

“...one of us will survive.”

“ And who will it be? ”

“...”

-

“ We all know Imperials are some of the most beautiful pets across Moriah, but this stranger might just put them all to shame. Don’t get lost in these eyes because they damn well know how to hypnotize. Sponsored by the big man himself, make some noise for AVENTURINE! ”

“Hello, hello. Glad to finally make my debut.”

“ Eager to be on the stage, huh? ”

“Who wouldn’t be with a face like this?”

“ And with the Greater Lord’s blessing to boost! For such a newcomer, you sure came out swinging. ”

“Hey, it’s not often I get to perform in front of such a big audience. I have to make sure I leave an impression.”

“I’m sure you already have. It’s not often we get a pet human with an eye pattern like that! Are you sure they aren’t contacts?”

“Nope, just got lucky with the genetic lottery.”

“ More than just luck, I’d say. I heard that some of the pet species’ special traits were the results of their old gods’ blessings. ”

“Hah, if you say so. I’m just glad to be garnering so much attention. Interacting with the other competitors these past few days showed me just how important it is to win over our fans.”

“ That’s quite right. It’s been twenty seasons since an underdog came out on top! Especially with our fans determining the winner by votes during the performance, you’ll have to- ”

“Put it all on whether or not we can truly win them over with just a few lines. Tell me, is it working?”

“ Now, now, I can’t answer that. It’d be unfair to the rest of the competitors! ”

“Ah, but it’d only be unfair if it was working.”

“ Hah, you got me there! I can tell you’re gonna kill it when you’re on stage. Literally! ”

“Hah. That’s the plan.”

-

“ Without light, there is no shadow. Without light, there is no life! Moxes, I hope you brought your shades, because their smile will set your hearts ablaze. Our final contestant hails from the Mesh and sings with the best, give it up to R3-D4R! ”

“Hah, I’m surprised you ended up reading it!”

“ What else would I say? That’s what you wrote on the forms. ”

“That is true. If it helps, my master usually just calls me Human #1.” 

“ Because you’re their favorite? ”

“No, because I was adopted first.”

“ Hahahaha! Well, I doubt we’ll have to worry about names since it’s just the two of us.”

“Well, us and all of Moriah watching.”

“ And those fans are eager to learn all about you! So tell me, how has these last few days been? Day in and out, you’ve been mingling with your fellow competitors, preparing for tonight’s debut. Any stirring emotions? Tension in the air? ”

“Honestly, it’s been nothing but a blast! I never would’ve had the chance to meet such famous pets had I stayed in the Mesh.” 

“ What spurred your master into signing you up? Secondly, what led to you wanting to compete against your own friend? ”

“That’s…a pretty tricky question. My master is an inorganic lifeform. We could spend an entire Amber Era just puzzling over why it decided to adopt me at all!”

“ But going against Leroy? ”

“That’s even harder, because he was the one who insisted!”

“ Oh, so many secrets. We might just have to move you to the next round, just to get another interview out of you! ”

“Knock yourself out. Saves me the trouble of practicing.”

“ Hey, you’re cute but not that cute. Besides, I think everyone here wants to hear what kind of sounds a Morlock can produce that’s worthy enough of making it to the live rounds. ”

“I’ll make sure not to disappoint, then.”

-

He should be fine. He’s attended galas. He’s done the small talk, the unbridled compliments, the smiles and handshakes and song and dance of body language that conveys whatever the businessmen want to hear. This little ‘mingling with the audience’ after the interviews were over should be a cakewalk for Aventurine, and yet he’s debating on how long it would take to die from blood loss if he just plucked his eyes out and let the Moxes fight for it themselves. 

It’s been an hour since the interviews ended. Technically, this would be the time for the contestants to reunite with their masters, who would then be in charge of leading them around the crowd. Pets shouldn’t be allowed to wander around without a leash, after all. But because of his unique situation, Aventurine is left to fend for himself against a bunch of opportunistic Moxes desperate to become acquainted with Greater Lord Golan. His hair drips from where a few have pet his head. The only thing that stopped him from instinctively slapping them away is the pets dragged along with them, equally shiny with their owners’ affection. 

“-and, get this, she had a crooked spine!” a Mox laments, snapping Aventurine out of his blissful thoughts. He’s…a breeder, he thinks. He’d come up to congratulate the IPC agent on participating for this season, then went off on some tangent about his latest attempts at breeding taller Titans. One dripping tentacle anchors himself to Aventurine’s shoulder. The slime is starting to touch his skin through the shirt. “All of that hard work into breeding a Titan back to a fifth of its ancestor’s height, poof! Up in smoke. Pet genes are just finicky like that.” 

Yes, because abnormal bone growth rates that lead to collapsed spines are completely caused by human genes and not by someone forcibly inbreeding their pets to make them taller. Aventurine swallows that one down with a harsh gulp of a sweet orange juice and goes, “Hah, I can imagine.”

“I’m sure you can!” A tentacle suddenly whips towards his face. He jerks back out of habit, but the Mox doesn’t seem to notice. “You got any siblings? Your parents still around? Did they have these eyes or was it just luck, like albinos?”

Aventurine’s glass cracks. Something churns in his stomach, a nasty bile threatening to spew insults and juice all over the Mox’s face. Would it be a crime, a human punching a Mox? Property has no rights on Moriah, but he’s set to compete in the show next week. Surely they wouldn’t execute him then. They wouldn’t have the time to find a replacement-

“Aventurine!” 

The crowd shifts, revealing you and your ever present smile. Leroy is at your side like always, harsh glare trained on the Moxes around you, and behind him is a tangled mass of machinery and flesh. It lumbers on all fours, one front leg replaced with a scythe nearly the length of Aventurine’s entire body. Its head is nothing more than some kind of headgear similar to equipment from Punklorde, but only one red eye glows with light. It sweeps its head towards the Mox glued to Aventurine’s shoulder, then clicks the three-pronged claw that makes up the opposite arm.

“Subject Identified: Wyreth, Titanomachia Head breeder. Initiating Greeting Protocol: Hello, Wyreth. How are you,” it states, voice spliced. It almost reminds Aventurine of those ancient toys he’d once found that would read out words typed into its keyboard.

Wyreth’s body trembles. “Ah, That Which Wanders,” he greets. “I should have figured you entered your little rats-”

“I have business,” That Which Wanders cuts in. Even without the affect, it almost sounds…annoyed. “You are not needed. Leave.” Wyreth gurgles, then shoves Aventurine forward, slinking off with a grumble until the crowd swallows him whole. It watches with a titled head, even rising from its hunch before beeping, “Threat neutralized. Disengaging Threat Protocol 74.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Good. That guy was always super creepy whenever he gave us a job.”

“I-What are you doing?” Aventurine asks, voice a blend of relief and annoyance. “Were you watching me that whole time?” 

“Nope.” You jab a thumb towards Leroy and That Which Wanders. “I had to get them first. Wyreth never would’ve left if I had just walked up.”

The implication almost stuns the agent. He almost thanks you, but That Which Wanders leans even closer, claws snapping as its eye burns red. “Inquiry,” it states, “where did you find that shirt?”

“Uh, the back of my wardrobe in the green room?” Aventurine looks down at the fabric, grimacing when he spots slime dripping down one shoulder. “I don’t think you’d want this in this condition-”

“Objection. The slime secreted by Gastropoda Mox can be removed with baking soda and acetic acid.” That Which Wanders’ shadow stretches over Aventurine and snaps its claw at his chest. “I will purchase the shirt.”

“Right now? ”

That Which Wanders’ eye flickers before adding, “Amendment: I would like to prepay for the shirt. L3-R0I.”

Leroy stiffens and steps forward. “Yes, sir?”

“Send the shirt to the residence once it has been removed. Scheduled arrival date: no later than tomorrow evening.”

“...Understood.”

“Can I at least keep it on for the rest of the night?” Aventurine whispers to you when the machine continues to rattle off orders.

“Do you really want to with Wyreth’s slime on you?” You make the mistake of patting his shoulder. The resounding squelch makes you and him shudder with disgust, but you’re quick to step back. “Oh! I haven't introduced you. Aventurine, this is my owner. Sir, this is-”

That Which Wanders beeps. “Subject Identified: Aventurine. Transport ID: 14383421. Species: unknown, foreign to Moriah.” It reaches a claw towards the Avgin’s gelled hair, pauses, and retreats. “Initiating Standard Protocol: Hello. I am That Which Wanders of the Hellnight Hive. If you need disposal services, I am located in the Mesh, in Building 408-A. I collect Chalav memorabilia.”

“Uh…” Aventurine nods slowly. He can’t quite tell if that is some kind of threat or not, but that explains the fascination with the shirt at least. “Nice to meet you.” 

The alien nods back, then turns. “L3-R0I, R3-D4R.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I must return. Directives Addendum: Enjoy tonight. Eat the food. Reminder: Call once the rounds are decided. Goodbye.” With another click of its hooks, it turns and stalks away. The Moxes it passes by recoil at the sight.

“I can see where you got your personality,” Aventurine says once the creature is gone.

You and Leroy share a glance, and while you start to laugh, Leroy just blinks. “Thank you.”

“How’s the mingling going?” you ask once your giggles subside. “I was worried you’d get picked on without an owner at your side…and you looked like you were about to kill Wyreth.” You glance at the fractured glass in his hand. “What’d he say?”

Just recalling the conversation makes the Avgin twitch. He just smiles and sets the glass on a passing waiter’s serving dish. He regrets it immediately; without his usual trouser pockets, he can’t hide his fingers, and he just gave up his glass. He settles for adjusting his rings. “Just the usual stuff, asking if I was nervous for the rounds.”

You snort. “Right, like that’s something to be worried about.”

“What, you aren’t?” Aventurine asks. 

“It’s a t.v. show,” you stress. “They’ll rig it to make it as dramatic as possible.” Your brows pinch, but you keep up yout smile as you gesture towards the giant tables covered in dishes. “Have you eaten? C’mon, I wanna show you some of the local delicacies!”

Aventurine almost turns down the offer until Leroy’s eyes flash over his shoulder. When he turns to look, a gaggle of Moxes tense and turn around, clearly hoping to try and pounce on him the second the Morlocks leave. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the pair with a sweeping hand. “Lead the way.”

Meat dishes fill his plate. Juice from ripened fruits quench his thirst. Sauce stains his fingertips while spices tingle his tongue. Lucy even appears at one point, lamenting that a dish wrapped with green leaves isn’t quite like home but good enough. He thinks all of it would have been very good if not for the fact that the pet-humans around him that aren’t competing stare at the table with pleading eyes while their owners keep their Isaac’s Binds nice and short. At one point, Aventurine is almost tempted to slip one some food, only for Leroy to grab his wrist.

“It will cause more trouble than it’s worth,” he whispers in the same tone one would use to scold a stubborn child. From the way you keep glancing at the other pet-humans, Aventurine can only assume the other Morlock is used to it. 

By the time he is close to bursting, the stagehands pluck the contestants from the crowd and herd them back onto the stage. They’re crammed into two couches, Aventurine wedged between the arm and Lucy on the front row. The stagelights drown out the audience and warms him, sweat beading down the back of his collar. He feels sick, but he’s not stupid enough to think it is because of the food. Over the hawking of the MC reintroducing the humans, all he can think is This is it. In one week, he will be back on this stage singing, begging the crowd to choose him. In one week, four of the humans beside him will be dead, and he can’t be one of them. 

“ And now, ” the host cheers as a seven round bracket appears overhead, “ LET’S SEE THE LINEUP!”

ROUND 1

AVENTURINE vs. KYOJI       

Aventurine stares at his own headshot, his cool and confident smirk, his sharp and empty eyes. Kyoji is directly behind him. The criminal only meets gaze for a second, face just as blank. Volunteer against volunteer, fighting for survival before a crowd of millions. Aventurine has proven himself before, but it sounds like the teen is no different. 

The IPC agent cracks a smile and offers a hand. Kyoji’s smiles right back and grips it tight.

ROUND 2

LUCY vs. RENE

“Hah.” Lucy shifts beside Aventurine, elbowing the Titan to her left. “It seems we will fight.”

Rene grimaces from the strike. They aren’t mic’d up for this part of the event, but the agent still hears her state, “ Very glad it’s not a physical one.”

ROUND 3

EREN vs. NAOMI

Aventurine doesn’t know who to focus on first. Naomi’s hands fly to her necklace and Eren goes pale, the pair sitting too far apart to reach for comfort. Rene tries her best, patting her brother’s back as he sputters and chokes. Aventurine expects you to do the same for Naomi. Such is your character. 

But common sense catches up to the Avgin just as the final bracket flashes on the screen.

ROUND 4

R3-D4R vs. LEROY

The crowd is already gasping and cheering, roaring when the camera focuses on your hand clenched in Leroy’s. The MC is still talking, prattling on and on about the upcoming schedule and to tune in next week for the thrilling opening performances by this year’s competitors. Aventurine can barely hear it over his own pulse. How dramatic, pitting two clear friends against each other. And Eren, who so clearly adores the timid Naomi but vowed to protect his twin sister? He supposes he got lucky with his round. Yes, Aventurine decides as a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. How lucky indeed.

Chapter Text

Physically, Kyoji doesn’t look like much. Dark curls hang over a rather defined face, darker eyes that always seem to be looking Aventurine’s way when he checks. Minute, superficial scars and knobby joints disturb his softly tanned skin. Even at the studio, he stalks around barefoot like some kind of animal. Unassuming, plain, and blood of a hundred dead crusted under his pampered nails.

“Is it bad to say I’m not surprised the marketing team is advertising our round as a twink-off?”

Aventurine blinks and follows Kyoji’s gaze to the break room’s windows. Beyond it, photos of the pair from the photoshoot flit across a holographic billboard. They must have tweaked them in post; he does not remember making that much eye contact with the Ravager, nor making said eye contact that…intense. 

“...no.” Aventurine grimaces when another one flashes on the screen. His finger is on Kyoji’s chin in this one, the Ravager’s arm slung casually over his shoulders. “If I were in marketing, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“Mm, yeah.” Kyoji looks away when a third photo appears. “Fits the song we chose, I guess.”

Aventurine almost wants to argue, only to cave moments later. It won’t matter what the lyrics mean. Their designated coach for their rehearsals had latched onto the ‘charming devil’ angle the second they’d handed in their song choices. With the way their photos ended up, he can’t wait to see what they’ll have to do for costumes. 

He lets out a huff and drops into the nearby couch, arm flung over his eyes. They’re currently waiting for their choreographer to come in. From what he can recall, dancing isn’t required for their performance (and can be a hindrance - trying to hold a steady note while you’re moving around is a challenge for even the best trained human-pet) but the song’s instrumentation was perfect for a few flashy steps. They still have six more days to work out a dance, but something tells the agent he’s going to need as much rest as he can get for today.

A soft thump lands on the other couch, Kyoji’s legs flung over the back and hair grazing the floor. The thin, white bands still choke his ankles. Aventurine can only assume they’re for security purposes. If that’s the case, though…”How come you don’t wear slippers?”

“Huh?” Kyoji looks down (up?) at his ankles, lazily scratching under one band with his big toe before shrugging. “Dunno. Any time I wore them, they felt too tight or itchy. I never liked wearing them even before the kennels.” 

Before? Aventurine’s nose scrunches with distaste. “Kennel pets aren’t allowed to wear shoes?”

“Nope. They’d get too dirty, anyway. Dirt floors and stuff.” Kyoji lifts his arms, wiggling his thin fingers towards the IPC agent. “What about you, outsider? What’s with all the trinkets?”

The rings. The necklaces. Aventurine has most of his jewelry back, even cycling through a few new ones he’d been gifted from new fans on Moriah. Meticulous polishing makes each one sparkle whenever he moves, a perfect lure to draw the eyes away. He looks down at his hands now and simply says, “I just like to accessorize.” 

“Yeah? I’m surprised the Greater Lord let you wear ‘em. They’d make for good weapons if you’re in a pinch.” As if to prove his point, Kyoji punches the air. 

It only makes Aventurine roll his eyes. “I don’t plan on fighting you.”

Kyoji pouts. “You sure? If you attacked me on stage, they’d have to euthanize you and I’d get an easy win.”

Something sours in Aventurine at that, drawing his lips into a frown. It’s something that hasn’t happened in years. From what he can remember, that rule had been implemented in an early season after someone won by simply incapacitating her opponents every round. There was no way in hell he was going to play dirty in a game like this. “Oh, come on,” he scoffs, “there's no satisfaction in an easy win.”

“There is in surviving. ” Aventurine catches his flinch in time, fingers curling as Kyoji adds, “Oh, right. Forgot you’re the Greater Lord’s pet. I’m sure if I asked Lucy or Leroy, they’d understand.” 

“No, I do,” flies out of Aventurine bitterly. Of course he does. Every gamble he’s ever agreed to worked just like that: all or nothing. His life against it all. It’s how he clawed his way out of hell and ended up here. The light bounces off his rings and into his eyes, and he channels the sudden tremor into a lazy hand wave. “I stand by my point, though. I’d rather not be another body to add to your streak.”

Kyoji’s eyes thin. His smirk stretches even wider. It makes the IPC agent reach out mentally, prodding for that familiar pressure of the Path of Preservation that grants him his abilities. He would win against the scrawny teenager in a fight, surely. But to kill him now would ruin the season, and he doubts Greater Lord Golan would be very pleased if that happened. Then the Ravager’s smirk drops as he dramatically sighs, “Aw, boo. Guess I gotta try it the old fashioned way.” 

He sounds completely unbothered. Not surprising, if they were being serious about the 100-kill streak. At that thought, Aventurine returns to eyeing Kyoji’s thin body. The human-pet industry has certainly lengthened the average human lifespan on Moriah, but they still age around the same rate; he can’t be any older than nineteen. “...Have you really killed over a hundred humans?”

Kyoji picks at something stuck under his pinky. “Probably.” Aventurine nearly takes off a ring and throws it at him, but the Ravager just shrugs. “What? It’s not like I keep track. They throw me in there, I fight, I win. That’s it.” 

Aventurine’s brows lift. “ Throw you in.”

“Yeah.”

“Like an arena?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s how the kennels work. Human-pets that are too hostile to be adopted are left there, and the hosts let them fight to keep the population low and cages open for other strays.” He smiles, toes wiggling with satisfaction. “And I’m damn good at what I do.”

The tone makes Aventurine’s skin crawl, hindered only by his own confusion. He sounded like he was having fun. “And now you’re here? Why?”

Kyoji’s satisfied smile twitches as he focuses on another nail. “...Weren’t you watching the interviews? I was bored.”

But you were surviving dances on the tip of Aventurine’s tongue. Kyoji seems too focused on picking the dirt from under his nails to continue talking.

-

“So what was Sigonia-IV like?” 

Aventurine nearly chokes on the honey-lemon water, throat burning when he manages to force out, “Huh?”

“You know, your home.” Kyoji makes a vague gesture with his own glass. “What was it like?”

The Avgin’s gaze zeroes in on the glass in his hand. It’s supposed to help soothe the throat and prep them for the rest of their vocal practice for the day, but now it just makes his stomach ache. “...Deserted,” he finally says. “Barren.”

“That’s it?” Kyoji huffs. “Boring.” 

Aventurine smothers the flare of rage in his chest into a single brow raise. “Okay, what about you, then?”

“I grew up here, genius.” Kyoji lifts his glass and takes a long sip, then adds, “...But I was born outside of the city. Lotta cows. Dad was a herder.” 

“Herder?” Aventurine echoes. “Was he a Ravager, too?”

“Psh, nah. Human-pets used for herding are usually Morlocks. Mom was the Ravager. High-content one, too.” 

A Morlock father and a Ravager mo-”Wait, wouldn’t that make you a Morlock?” 

“According to the Moriah Breeders Association, no.” Kyoji taps the side of his collar, tracing a purple vein under his skin. “Everyone’s a little mixed, but it’s all about the blood content. 85% or higher technically counts as a Ravager.” 

That doesn’t make any sense either, Aventurine thinks. The others had seemed so hellbent on adhering to their species’ names - Eren, specifically, takes such great pride in being a Titan. Lucy, he can understand, being an outworlder on her own. But he’d assumed that everyone else had clung to such titles due to genetic purity. “Then what makes a Ravager?” 

And for the first time since meeting the teen, Kyoji’s expression shifts. He sets the glass on a nearby table, rubbing condensation against his sweatpants as he licks his lips. After a brief pause, he says, “It’s our behavior. Titans were too loyal. If one twin died, the odds of the other dying from heartbreak was…94%?” He waved like he wanted Aventurine to lean in, like he’s sharing some kind of secret. “Wanna guess how Ravager siblings acted?”

“They celebrated?” Aventurine offers.

“Yeah, but usually after killing their siblings.” Kyoji slumps back against his seat, throwing an arm over his eyes. “There’s a reason why breeders recommend splitting up families as soon as they can. I met another Ravager that bragged about killing his baby sister just…four minutes into her first breath.” 

Aventurine’s mouth feels rather dry, but when he brings his glass to his lips, he finds it empty. He can only swallow and croak, “And you?”

“My older sister tried to drown me when we tried to…escape,” is Kyoji’s answer. “I pulled her in with me. Turned out she wasn’t a good swimmer.” 

The stench of copper and offal threatens Aventurine’s stomach. He wants to clamp a hand over his mouth and find the nearest bathroom, lock the door and not come out until he can breathe again. His sister’s soft voice whispers in his ears. He forces that down with another dry swallow. “So…Ravagers are just natural killers?” he asks. 

Kyoji lets out a low, sweet hum. “Blessed by the gods themselves.” 

“Gods?”

“Once upon a time, yeah.” He thrusts his hands up to the ceiling, like he could touch the stars with his fingertips. “THEY lived where the world connected to the sky, where we couldn’t dare reach. But then the Mox arrived and saw just what these blessings could do, and…” His fingers curl around empty air before flopping his arms aside. “All history, anyway. Higher aggression, higher bloodlust, lower compassion. The ideal Ravager like me doesn’t feel anything at all. Wind one up and let them loose, then place your bets on who survives the fight.”  

Aventurine’s thumb nudges one ring, mind spinning in sync. You and Leroy’s outfits from the photoshoot had been based off of some old gods. Even the host had mentioned gods during their interview. To have so many species with blessings from individual gods would make Moriah a hotbed for the zealous and cruel hoping to take advantage. No wonder the Greater Lord practically sealed the planet off. If they could so thoroughly tame the humans, they could breed them into perfect soldiers to extend their conquest. They’ve already managed with Amazonia, if Lucy’s presence is anything to go by. 

Still…”You really don’t feel anything?” he asks. 

Kyoji snorts. “Of course I don’t.”

Aventurine has gambled long enough to know a lie when he hears one. “Didn’t you say you joined this because you were bored?”

“Yeah, so?” 

“That’s an emotion, no?”

Kyoji lifts his head, smile twitching. Aventurine can’t tell if it’s from annoyance or amusement. “You know what I do feel?” he asks. “I feel hungry. Does that count, outsider? Hm?” Without waiting for a response, the teen flops back and sighs. “Semantics will get you nowhere. Not in this game.”

-

Aventurine thinks the pounding is the thunder from the Kakava passing when he realizes he’s still in his pajamas in a pampered hotel, years older and galaxies away. He wanted to prepare for tomorrow’s performance, so he grabbed a plate from the pantry and went to bed early. Who could be knocking now ?

When he opens the door and finds you standing there, he’s not very surprised. 

“Oh!” You blink, eyes darting from his mussed hair and half-buttoned sleep shirt before focusing squarely on his brows.  “U-Um, sorry. I didn’t realize you were asleep. I can just-”

“It’s too late, I’m up,” Aventurine grumbles, massaging his eyes. “What do you want?” 

“I-Ah…” You clear your throat. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to eat dinner. I, um, made some stuff.”

Made? The Mox had left plenty of pre-made meals for the contestants to eat; Aventurine’s own plate of pasta is sitting on the table in his room, untouched. Now that his door is open, though, he can smell cooked garlic that makes his mouth water. You’re standing here through, and, if he pokes his head out, he can count the contestants’ other doors, still closed. 

“Everyone else already said no, huh?” he guesses. You shrink back with a nervous laugh, but that just makes Aventurine’s confusion grow. “Not even Leroy?”

Your laughter fades as you glance down the hall. “He, uh, wanted to practice, so I left him alone. As for the others…” You rattle off some excuses. Lucy already ate and Kyoji wasn’t hungry. Naomi just started crying and shut the door, and the Titan twins-

“They’re not here?” Aventurine echoes. 

“I think I saw them going to the lobby. I tried to ask them where they were going, but Rene just said their master wanted to talk to them, then Eren started shouting at me and saying they weren’t breaking any rules…” You wilt at the memory, shoulders sagging as you massage your neck. “He was shouting a lot.” After a moment, you let out a weary sigh and smile again. “But about the meal-”

A loud groan sounds between them. Your brows lift as your eyes drift to his torso. Somehow, Aventurine manages to resist the urge to shut the door on your face, even as his ears begin to burn. It doesn’t help when you start to laugh. 

“Well,” you say between chuckles, “I got plenty to share.”

Sure enough, there’s a giant pan on the stove, absolutely overflowing with thick rice noodles bathed in beef gravy and green, leafy broccoli. You serve him a bowl bigger than his own head, and when Aventurine takes his first bite, he has to swallow hard to keep from drooling all over the table. 

“Good?” you tease when he shoves another forkful into his mouth. 

Aventurine grunts, recalling his table manners just enough to wipe the gravy from his lips. “You made this?”

“Mhm.” You hold up a pile of noodles with your chopsticks. “Leroy sucks ass at cooking, so I was always in charge of making dinner.”

Aventurine tries to imagine your friend standing in the kitchen, then frowns. He’d seen enough ads for human-pet food, straight from a can or dry kibble, easy to digest and guaranteed to keep your human-pet fat and happy. “I’m surprised you know how to cook.”

“Yeah, it’s not very common for human-pets. Sir learned about Chalav meal culture and wanted to see what the hype was about, so it made us learn.” Your pleased expression wavers as you set the chopsticks down. “We had dinner together every Saturday. It was nice.”

Was. Aventurine’s finger curls around his fork, jaw tight. Before arriving on Moriah, he could count on one hand the number of meals he’d had at an actual table with people he considered friends. Hell, he doesn’t even count the breakfasts he has with the other competition. Everyone gathers in the morning because they have a schedule to keep. This would be the first meal he’s had with another person that he chose to eat with.

He forces that down with another hard swallow of his noodles, then says, “I didn’t think it needed to eat.”

“Oh, Leroy and I would set up the food and That Which Wanders just sat there with a battery and charger.” Your smile comes back in full force with your laugh. “It looked stupid, but hey, food tastes best when shared, right?” 

Aventurine looks down at his bowl, then the half-filled pot still warming on the stove. They’ll have plenty of time to eat before their performances, but something tells him this will be his last meal if he loses. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “It tastes great.”

-

It is not the first time Aventurine has looked like a peacock in his life, but the outfit he’s wearing certainly doesn’t help. Overflowing teals and browns, sharp magenta accents, a long train and one-shoulder cloak to flutter when he struts. With detached sleeves and a plunging neckline, much of his milky skin glitters from the anti-sweat powder, exposing his supple neck and sharp jaw. They’d denied his request for a pair of sunglasses. When he asks why, the Mox assistant just squeaks out that the Greater Lord said so before fleeing the room. In his reflection, he catches the tremor in his hands and tries to hide it by smoothing the front of his coat. 

He is not surprised to find that Kyoji is already done, waiting in the communal green room. His sharp eyes drag from the agent’s bare legs to feathered boa before letting out a sharp laugh. “How many chickens do you think they killed for that?”

“Not enough.” Aventurine clicks his tongue as he eyes the teen’s plain gray jumpsuit. “They’re not letting you change for the performance?”

“No, they offered.” Kyoji gestures to the agent’s feathered attire and snickers. “I just didn’t wanna look like that.”

And…well, Aventurine can’t fault him for that. He imagines it will be easier to dance in sweatpants and a sweater than all of his elaborate ruffles. With a huff, he readjusts the rings on his fingers and watches the green room screen. Moxes flit around a giant, circular stage, a smaller platform in the center descending with a whole array of audio equipment. In a few minutes, it will rise with him in tow, presenting the Avgin to a million hungry eyes under harsh, false lights. They cannot have any props on stage. It would only get in the way of the cameras broadcasting the performance to those who could not afford tickets. 

“I’m surprised the others aren’t out yet,” Kyoji says suddenly. When Aventurine looks up, the teen is staring at the hall to the other green rooms. “Guess they don’t want to see us off, huh?”

Aventurine doesn’t blame them. Everyone is performing tonight. Four of them will not leave the stage. If he hadn’t been going first, he would have stayed in his room to enjoy the last few hours of his life in solitude. At that thought, the IPC agent glances at the door with your name on it. He takes it back; he’s surprised you haven’t emerged yet. Maybe you’re in Leroy’s room, or-

The door to Lucy’s green room swings open, you holding the door as Lucy strides out. The Amazon’s sharp red suit jacket, black slacks, and white gloves are a strange contrast to your spiked, leather top and prismatic pants, but that isn’t the biggest concern. “What were you two doing together?” he asks. 

Lucy’s lips twist, but you pat her shoulder and say, “She needed help with her bowtie.” 

Said bowtie looks nice and plump around Lucy's neck. Aventurine never quite liked having neckwear so flushed against his skin, but he is well-versed in fashion: it’s a clip-on. It doesn’t need tying. 

You hover over Lucy as the Amazon strides towards the couch, joining her when she sits. Your whispers are too faint for his ears, but whatever you’re saying makes the woman’s lips curl with disdain until-

“ Enough. ” The woman swats away your hand before it can rest on her shoulder. “I do not need to talk with the Mox. I must perform, no exception.” 

“But-” 

“No exception!” Lucy grimaces and curls over, massaging her face. “I-Please, friend. Just-just…”

Your face twists, throat bobbing. He expects you to protest, but you just sigh and turn your attention to Aventurine. You only give his outfit a second’s glance before asking, “What’s with all the feathers?”

“What’s with all the leather?” he asks. 

“Don’t…ask.”

It takes another half-hour of pure silence before another door opens. Rene and Eren emerge from Naomi’s room, the tiny Imperial quaking with each step. The black, knee-length dress and faded brown vest does little favor for her near-white face. Eren matches her simple outfit with his own grey slacks, white shirt, and suspenders. The only pop of color on either of their outfits are the red bandanas secured over their collars. Beside them, Rene’s metallic grey suit jacket is almost blinding.

“Ah, so we’re all here…minus Leroy, I suppose,” she says as Eren guides Naomi to a seat. The Imperial shoves a hand underneath her bandana, curling over as she clings to her necklace, muttering under her breath. The female Titan purses her lips at the sight, but while Eren moves to comfort Naomi, Rene just shakes her head and turns to you. “Is he still changing?”

You squirm in your seat. “He, uh, doesn’t want to come out until our round, since we’re last and all.”

“Doesn’t want to watch the bloodshed, huh?” Kyoji sneers. “Coward.”

On the couch, Naomi gasps and tucks herself into Eren’s side as he scowls. “Not everyone is as cruel as you are, Ravager. Let him have his time in peace.”

“Cruelty? Me?” The teen lifts a brow. “At least I’m not playing with my food.”

“Excuse me?” 

You tense, holding up a hand. “Kyoji, stop it-”

“Uh, I know you heard me,” the Ravager carries on. He eyes Naomi’s trembling frame and scoffs. “She’s easy pickings. No point in giving her false hope.”

“ Kyoji -”

The green room’s lights dim, argument drowned out by the live band performing the show’s intro theme. On the projector, the host struts on the stage with a smile across all four mouths, waving to the sea of Moxes cheering all around them. Beneath the stage, a multi-limbed monstrosity rounds off the theme with a roll on the drums, and the lighting returns. Aventurine glances at his competition’s faces. Each look a few shades sicker. 

There is a knock on the door. Kyoji flinches, fists curled, but the harried Mox that pops its eye stalks inside doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Round One,” it barks, “on in five.” 

No one speaks when it shuts the door. Just a few nervous glances their way. Once more, he doesn’t blame them. They will be the ones setting the stage for the rest of them, after all. No point in letting them down now.

“Well,” he calls, voice remarkably steady as his hands tremble in their pockets, “I guess that’s our cue. Kyoji?” 

Kyoji blinks, then shrugs. “Yeah. Guess so.” With a lazy wave, the Ravager turns and strolls towards the door. “See ya-” 

“Wait.” At once, the humans gathered in the room turn to Eren, who seems just as surprised at his action. He’s still glued to Naomi’s side, gently soothing her back, but he gives Aventurine and Kyoji a hard stare before finally forcing out, “Good luck. To…to both of you.”

It is far kinder than anything Aventurine had been expecting, and he finds himself chuckling as the others mutter out their blessings. Even Naomi meets his eye as she presses her coin to her lips, as if kissing it would bring them strength. It has been centuries since humans had been subjugated by the aliens of Moriah. To know that some still know of their ancient gods, that they impart luck and blessings onto potential rivals? Despite the debasement and total enslavement of their people, their humanity still seems to bleed through the cracks. 

“Yeah.” Aventurine pulls open the door for Kyoji and flashes them the most sincere smile he can manage. It is barely more than an uptick of the corner of his mouth, but it’s good enough. “Good luck.”

The pair wait before the elevator while a Mox picks at their clothes. There isn’t much to adjust, though, and Aventurine finds himself left alone with the Ravager. He wonders if he should give some parting words, but what else is there to say? Sorry for being here? Good luck, hope he fails? 

“...Before we go,” Kyoji says before the agent can, “can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” 

“You’re an Avgin, aren’t you?” Kyoji’s eyes lazily slide towards Aventurine, darting from his eyes to his throat before continuing. “I met a human in the Kennels once, said he was a warrior in a tribe from Sigonia-IV that was sent here as punishment by these aliens called the, uh…Ipsee? E-pic?”

IPC. Interastral Peace Corporation. The agent’s breath falters, but he can’t bring himself to correct the teen.

“Whatever they were,” Kyoji continues, “the guy kept going on and on about how it was his noble duty to kill another tribe, yeah? I asked him what they did, and he was like, ‘Avgin bewitch children with their eyes’ and ‘Avgin lure good men to sin with their beautiful features’.” 

Aventurine’s laugh almost tastes as bitter in his mouth. “So even on a planet as isolated as Moriah, my reputation precedes me.” His smile comes easily, even as he mutters, “...He must have been a Katican. They culled the Avgin until I was all that was left.”

“Mm.” Kyoji blinks, eyes just wide enough to look surprised before breaking away. “Well, I made sure he died very, very slowly, if that helps.”

“...Why?”

“Why else?” The young Ravager picks at his polished nails. “I was bored.”

And Aventurine thinks Kyoji means it. At the same time, a human who’d been kept in a cage, thrown into a ring to fight for its next breath probably didn’t have the best education. All animals knew boredom. All animals knew hunger. How could one ever distinguish happiness or rage or disgust when they were never given the chance to learn? 

His commodity mark begins to burn, but no matter how desperately he wants to scratch it away, he keeps his trembling fingers in his pockets. 

“Round One starting,” the stagehand reports. It moves mechanically, jabbing something against the base of their necks until the collar that had been choking Aventurine since his arrival pops off. Kyoji catches his own and tosses it to the Mox, then slams the button to open the door himself.

The elevator door yawns open. Kyoji strolls right in, Aventurine close behind. The din of the staff chatter vanishes as the doors seal shut, and as the lift begins to move, the Avgin finally settles on the best parting words he can find. “...Thanks.” 

The young Ravager just hums and drags his heel against his ankle cuff. “Yeah.” 

-

“And now, without further ado… ”

Aventurine shuts his eyes as the lights dim. The lift locks into place with a full jolt that quells the nerves under his skin. 

“Let’s hear it for the 49th Season of ALIEN STAAAAAGE!”

The crowd bellows with cheer, but all Aventurine can hear is his own pulse. This is it. No hesitation. No turning back. All…or nothing.

“ HIT IT!”

The whistle pierces his ears, fingers snapping every two and four beats. Moxes clap and cheer below as stage lights erupt overhead. From his angle, Aventurine cannot see the screen behind them, but knows exactly what it must say. 

AVENTURINE 

{00} 

KYOJI

{00}

It makes the agent’s stomach sink, but the sudden eighth notes snaps him to attention. He kicks his legs out, arms weaving before him. With each measure, Kyoji moves on his own, tossing attention back and forth until they hit the seventh measure. 

Out and up, he recites as horns blare , cross hips. Kick out, then grab mic, breathe-

“ I want you to show me your fantasy- ” he calls.

“ No past and no future, that’s what I need, ” Kyoji breathes back.

“ The groove’s taking over, ” he continues as the crowd begins to cheer, “ we’ll wait and see. ”

“ Even I might blank out. ” Kyoji winks. “ You and me. ”

“ I thought that dream could light our way… ” Aventurine’s eyes dart to his right, “ Take me higher , take me away, ” echoing from Kyoji at his side. Somehow, his lips begin to curl. He thrusts out a hand, almost close enough to grab the teen’s bony wrist. “ Oh be my savior, take me away, away, away… ” 

Kyoji just smirks and shoots a finger gun back. “ Take me away. ” He snatches his mic. “ Tick and tock once more, you’re hosting,” he hums, “ a magic show I cannot escape. ”

“ There’s nothing else left for me to do- ” Aventurine’s coat slips, crowd roaring as his skin glimmers. “ Goin’ to the other side, other side! ” 

He sheds the feathered cloak as Kyoji cries “ I don’t want to be alone tonight! ”, flinging the gaudy outfit across the stage to the thunderous approval of the Mox. With each beat, his kicks carry him forward until he hits the edge of the platform. “ Oh, lead me with your altered sign- ”

Aventurine hauls the glass microphone to his lips, eyes on the crowd. Between tentacles and slime, scales and feathers, all he can see are the awestruck faces of humans-pets. They are not even given chairs to sit on. “ There’s no one else left for me to lose, ” he sings, “ headin’ to the other side, other side… ”

The synth drops, soft chimes echoing as he retreats from the edge, panting. Kyoji’s still smiling, even as he softly sings, “ You take me higher, take me away… ” Their eyes only meet for a moment before darting up and back. When Aventurine follows suit, he almost freezes.

AVENTURINE 

{86}

KYOJI 

{87}

Almost. 

Aventurine’s tongue darts across his lips. Barely thirty seconds left. “ Just be my savior take me away, away… ”

His brows pinch at the uneven notes, barely visible on screen but clear as day to Kyoji. The teen is supposed to hit the higher note of the harmony, but when their gazes reconnect, he just flashes another smile and rounds on the audience. “SING IT WITH HIM, EVERYONE!”

“ I don’t want to be alone tonight, ” spills out of Aventurine, lines that aren’t his being thrust upon him as the audience cheers along. He glares at the teen, praying it doesn’t detract points. “ Oh, bring me to the other side- ”

Kyoji only beams and sneers, “Come on! ”

“ There’s no one else left for me to lose, ” the Avgin gasps, and in that single, short inhale before the final line, he thinks he sees the Ravager smile with…elation, like a man finally spotting land after years adrift at sea. 

“ Going to the other side, ” Kyoji sings with arms wide, “ Other side! ”

“ I don’t want to be alone tonight, ” Aventurine nearly shouts, eyes glued to the young teen as he continues to soak in the crowd’s attention, “ I’ll bring you to my best disguise, ‘cause you don’t need- ”

“ Don’t need to know the truth!” Finally, Kyoji turns to Aventurine, hands trembling even as his entire body bends back with his final line“ Just let me rave forever in your liiiiife! ”

Over the horns blaring in his ears, their harmonized “ Woah, oh oh oh- ”, the screams of the crowd as the song comes to an end, Aventurine catches a glimpse of the screen.

AVENTURINE

{88}

KYOJI 

{87}

Their final move is supposed to be a kind of bow. Aventurine faces Kyoji in sync. Their hands fly out to the side, then to their heads, knees popped and smiles smug.

They are meant to hold the pose until the stage lights dim. The Avgin turns just enough to catch Kyoji’s smile lose its teeth, sharp eyes fall shut. For once, the killer looks satisfied. Full. Then, like scissors to a puppet’s strings, he crumples to the floor, blood blooming from the bullet hole in his head. 

Aventurine does not panic. Aventurine does not flinch. He maintains his pose as the crowd screams and cheers, a few distinct boos cutting through the air. A few even angrily flap a stack of paper at a Mox that clearly serves as a bookie. He imagines those must have been Kyoji’s fans, Moxes that were made filthy rich off of the teen’s victories in the kennels. They probably bet on him tonight and lost big. 

“ I dedicate my performance to you. ”

That is what Kyoji had said in his interview, and from the pleased smile frozen on his corpse, Aventurine thinks he meant it with all of his heart. 

Behind him, the screen flickers. 

ROUND 1

AVENTURINE vs. KYOJI

AVENTURINE WINS

Chapter Text

They escort Aventurine to the ‘winner’s lounge’, a cramped cell suspended above the audience for them to sit in for the rest of the show. He protests, telling the burly Mox that he’s supposed to return to the green room to see the others, but the alien just snorts and mutters something about new protocol, then slaps the collar around the Avgin’s throat. The only things in the cell are a speaker, some water, and a single pillow cushion as thick as a sheet of paper. At least it gives him a prime view of the stage as they prepare for the next round. 

“ -seen anything that amazing ?” the host asks her panel of  ‘experts’ - Moxes who, apparently, teach at the Anakt Garden. “ I think that has to be one of the strongest opening acts I’ve ever seen !”

“ I agree ,” one of the experts says. “ It’s rare to have someone whose vocal performance isn’t affected by their choreography. Kyoji had done well, but -”

“ But Aventurine’s eyes, right? ” Another Mox waves his tentacle to the footage replaying on the screen. They pause on the final verse, where Aventurine is glaring down Kyoji after the teen abruptly threw his lines on him. “ Such intensity in that stare…it is one thing to see it on screen. Another to see it in person. But to be on the receiving end of such intense lust? ”

 The crowd roars with approval. Aventurine gags and forces himself to focus on the stage. To his surprise, That Which Wanders towers over the tiny cleaner Mox, ignoring their angry pounding at its legs as it bathes Kyoji’s body in a red light. After a moment, its eye flashes green. It hauls the corpse onto its back, a metallic cage reminiscent of a venus flytrap closing around it. With a little bounce to nudge it in place, the giant, fleshy robot scuttles off the stage, leaving the cleaners to lick up the blood left behind. 

“What’s it doing here…” Aventurine mutters. With how popular the competition is, he’d thought they’d have their own staff to handle body disposal. Why would they outsource? Unless That Which Wanders works for the company directly, but he doubts that. If it worked for this company, he imagines it would come with decent benefits, Anakt Garden being one of them, and he doubts you were lying when you said you didn’t attend the school. Maybe it’s because you and Leroy are competing this season? 

Aventurine snatches the bottle of water from the shelf, nearly spilling half of it in frustration. He won’t know until the night is over, he supposes. At least with you and Leroy facing each other, one Morlock is guaranteed to make it to next week.

…Although - as awful as this sounds - he doubts Leroy will want to talk if he wins. He’ll need you to survive if he wants answers.

An uncomfortable knot ties in the agent’s stomach. Right. Kyoji is dead. Three more people are about to die and he’s going to have a front row seat to it all. It’s not like he killed them, but it doesn’t make the tremor in his hands go away. The only reassurance he can find is that he is still in one piece. 

Aventurine chugs the last of his water but still finds himself feeling painfully empty. “Couldn’t bother to put snacks in here, too?” 

The next fifteen minutes pass in a boring blur, advertisements gushing about human-pet care products and the latest vitamins and, at one point, Wyreth’s own business offering the best Titan studs on Moriah. Aventurine is one advertisement away from destroying the speaker with his bare hands when the MC finally says, “ I think we’ve waited long enough, right? ”

He almost cheers along with the crowd, settling for a small wave when his own face appears on the screen. 

“ Let’s give it up for our Round One winner once more, ” the MC calls, “ and let’s see who he’ll be going up against next week! ” 

A deep, pounding pulse fills the arena as Rene and Lucy’s portraits appear on the hologram. In the pit, the giant Mox responsible for all the live instruments strikes white and black keys. 

“ Now, ” the MC calls, “ I know you guys remember the winning round song from last season, yeah? ” She pauses to let the crowd settle, then chuckles. “ Alright, alright. [Now, if you love me- ”

“- LET ME GOOOOOOO!] ”

Aventurine startles as his Synesthesia Beacon kicks in, translating the lyrics flashing on the screen. “ The fear, the fear of falling apart! ” He recognizes it; the last season’s winner had involved the audience with singing the chorus while she took every verse, drowning out her competitor all the way to the end. It’d been controversial for all but two minutes - the experts had praised her ability to control the crowd, fans begged for more audience participation. Incredible strategy, clever execution. Figures they’d use it in the next season.

On stage, the center retracts, lights dimming as the call echoes around the arena. Two, suited silhouettes emerge to thunderous cheers.

“ And now, let’s get this party started!”

The soft piano chords suddenly pick up speed, rapid eighth notes that smother the heartbeat as the lyrics flash on screen, crowd screaming.

[Finders keepers, losers weepers!]

The light rises, revealing Rene and Lucy. The Titan’s eyes are closed, silver suit sparkling. Beside her…Aventurine sits up in surprise. The Amazon’s tawny skin seems less honey-yellow, more rotten egg yolk. Even with the anti-perspirant powder on her face, sweat beads her temple, breath far too deep to look natural. She looks awful. 

RENE

{00}

LUCY

{00}

[Finders keepers, losers weepers!

Double, double, double down-]

ROUND 2

RENE vs. LUCY

“ Welcome to the end of eras, ” Rene starts, eyes slowly lifting. “ Ice has melted back to life- ”

“ Done my time and served my sentence- ” Lucy grips her mic tight. “ Dress me up and watch me die. ”

Their heads snap to the side in sync as they sing, “ If it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine… ”

Aventurine can’t help but lean forward in surprise. He can see why the two were paired up; the timbre of their voices were completely different. Cold and detached against warm and inviting, creating the perfect dissonance to ramp up the crowd.

“ Dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight… ” Lucy licks her lips as the crowd echoes the earlier double-down chant. Rene’s drumming her finger on the microphone stand, like she’s trying to ground herself as they hum together, “ If you don’t know, now you know- ”

“ I’M TAKING BACK THE CROWN! ” The Amazon cries out before Rene can, arms flying open to embrace the crowd’s screams as the twin freezes with shock. “ I’m all dressed up and naked, I see what’s mine and take it! ” She bounces to crowd’s [Finders keepers, losers weepers!] , oblivious to the acidic glare from the Titan. “ Woah, OH, yeah! The crown, so close I can taste it, I see what’s mine and take it! Oh, yeah! ”

Aventurine’s lips twitch, almost laughing as the music transitions back to the verse. Rene’s still smiling, but there’s a frazzled look in her eye, made worse by her wavy hair escaping its tight ponytail. The fact that she manages to deliver her line through clenched teeth amazes him. “ Sycophants on velvet sofas, lavish mansions, vintage wine. ”

Lucy lets out a breathless laugh. “ I am so much more than royal, ” she taunts. “ Snatch your chain and mace your- ” Her body twitches, lips screwed shut before she can finish with [eyes] . The crowd and Rene carry on without a care, but Aventurine glances up at the scoreboard. Lucy’s {79} drops to {75} in a blink.

“ If it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine… ” Rene’s eyes dart over to Lucy, smile growing as the Amazon shakes out her head. “ Heroes always get remembered, but you know legends never die. ” She turns back to the crowd, Aventurine bristling with alarm. He recognizes that face. It’s the look of someone who knows their opponent has a shitty hand. “ And if you don’t know, now you know- ”

“ I’M TAKING BACK THE CROWN! ” Lucy belts a beat too early, holding out the last note to compensate. It makes the scores waver, but the crowd only roars with approval at how smoothly she holds it. “ I’m all dressed up and naked, I see what’s mine and take it! ” Her lips twitch, but the lyrics roll by without her as she takes a deeper breath. “ Yeah, the crown! So close I can taste it, I see what’s mine and take it!” Again, she lets the crowd carry the lyrics for her. Rene glances at her, nods, then starts to clap with the beat as they chant.

All Aventurine can think is, That’s dirty.

[Mortal kings are ruling castles! Welcome to my world of fun-]

Lucy takes a desperate gasp away from her microphone. The cameras are too busy panning across the audience as they chant the bridge to catch the way the Amazon’s eyes well with tears. 

[Liars settle into sockets-

A proud Amazonian princess, crying.

-flip the switch and watch them run!]

Silence. For a moment, the cameras snap towards the stage. All eyes, even Aventurine’s, land on Lucy, no doubt waiting for her to take over the explosive final notes. Instead, they witness her broad shoulders tremble, her lips curl with pain, her head bowing as she shudders and quakes. When she opens her mouth, all she lets out is a pained choke. 

Rene rips her microphone from the stand, the flurry of movement launching everything back to life. 

“Oh OOO YEAAH, Oh!” she howls, the belt so harsh and strong it makes her stumble back. At once, the screens around the stadium fill with her face, blonde hair whipping across her cheeks, eyes screwed shut with effort. When they open, she just throws one arm as if to mock the crowd for ignoring her. “I’m taking back back, taking back back the crown! I’m all dressed up and naked! See what’s mine and take it!” Her hand twitches to the beat as the crowd chants. “Oh, yeah, the crown! So close I can taste it! I see what’s mine and take it! Oh, OH YEAHH!”

The crowd continues their chant, [Finders keepers, losers weepers! ] filling the air as the scores flash on the screen. With no other verses to sing, the votes flood the calculator, and Aventurine’s eyes keep bouncing between each one before finally dropping to the two contestants. Rene’s focus is on the scores as they continue to change. Lucy is still doubled over, laboring for each breath. 

His hands press against the glass of his cell, like he could reach out to grab the poor woman and ask her what’s wrong. She’d been acting off since she emerged from her green room. In fact, she’d even mentioned something about having to perform and refusing to speak to the Mox. Did she get sick? How? 

A bright splash of red jolts Aventurine from his thoughts. He’d been so lost in his own confusion he didn’t even see the execution happen. The Amazonian had just been standing one moment, dead the next. 

He forces himself to look at the winner of Round 2, jaw tight. Rene is still staring at the screen. With the screens so focused on scores and the graphics, he cannot see her face, but she makes no move to step out of the blood rapidly pooling around her feet. 

LUCY 

{71}

RENE

{82}

The scores make Aventurine’s fingers curl. Lucy had been leading the entire song, and with the crowd participating, Rene could only contribute through what little lines she had in the verses. The chorus repeated twice, giving each one the chance to present themselves, but Lucy had stolen them both. If she’d aced the final chorus, Rene would have been the one bleeding out on stage. 

Instead, the Amazonian choked, and Rene carried the final chorus with ease. Like she’d planned it from the start. 

ROUND 2

 RENE vs. LUCY

RENE WINS

-

They allow Aventurine out during the intermission to go to the bathroom. The first thing he says when Rene enters is, “Looks like it’ll be you and me next week, friend. ”

Rene falters, then smooths out her expression with a smile. “So it seems.” She shrugs off her suit jacket, undershirt damp with sweat. “Congratulations on your win,” she offers over the sound of the running faucet. “You’re quite the dancer.”

“Just something that comes with the trade,” Aventurine says before leaning back. There are no mirrors in the bathroom, but he’s content with watching the Titan’s shoulders. “Shame about your performance, though. It looked like Lucy kept pulling the rug out from under you.”

And the faintest hitch in Rene’s shoulders is all he needs. He’s smiling when she looks over her shoulder, falling into a calculative frown when she turns back.

“Agreed,” she says with little enthusiasm. “She is- was an incredible singer. During our rehearsals, she barely had to try to hit the higher notes.”

“Mm.” Aventurine lazily eyes his rings. “Bad luck that she got so sick.”

In his peripherals, Rene’s smile feels like a blade to his throat. “Bad luck indeed.”

Chapter Text

Aventurine is unceremoniously thrown back into the winner’s cell the second the break is over, forced to smile for the camera when it pans towards him. Rene sits in the pod to his immediate left, but he ignores her in favor of watching the stage. That Which Wanders has returned to pick up Lucy’s body, scuttling away as the hosts bemoan the loss. 

“ The Amazons are sure to be crying in front of their screens, huh? ” the host asks. 

“ Oh, no doubt. I’m sure Kopenawa is devastated, ” a judge sighs. “ To lose his daughter and the agreement he had with the Greater Lord? What a shame… ”

The judges continue to prattle, white noise to Aventurine as he rakes his mind for some kind of explanation. There is no way Lucy had just ‘gotten sick.’ They needed their competitors to remain healthy and capable of performance, especially after their debuts. The real question is how. It’s obvious that Rene did something, but it’ll be impossible to pinpoint anything. They’d been together the entire week, much like he was with Kyoji. 

Aventurine sighs and leans against the wall of his cell, fingers drumming against his knee. Frustrating, but…not boring, at least. Did the competition have any rules against foul play? Could he bypass winning the whole thing if he could prove his competition cheats? He doubts it. The show is well underway; any scandal that could potentially interrupt airing would be swept under the rug. If he wants any help, he’ll need to look inward. 

And as the center of the stage retracts, he decides his options aren’t the best. 

“ I’m sure you all recognize who these pretty folks are, ” the MC hums. “ Everyone give it up for the lovers of the lot, Eren and Naomi! ”

And they do look cute standing together. In plain attire and matching red bandanas, it is more cohesive than the clashing reds and silver of the last round. They even step out together, hand in hand, though he only assumes it is because Naomi looks two steps away from fainting. 

Photo after glamorous photo of the pair cover every inch of the screens behind them as they reach their microphones. A guitar hangs from Eren’s shoulders, and as the host continues to babble on about how the pair had been inseparable since childhood, he hunches over and gently plucks the strings. Naomi mutters something. Eren smiles back and offers it to her. 

“Always in sync!” the host coos as Naomi fiddles with the guitar’s tuners. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a fan of Naomi that didn’t love her main guitarist. Have you?”

“ Of course not,” a judge says. “ Though tonight is a special treat. It isn’t often we hear Eren sing with her. ”

“ Which just means we should savor this very moment with all we got! Who else agrees?! ”

Aventurine’s cell practically shudders under the crowd’s cheers, only to choke when Eren drags his thumb against the strings. 

“Hm, hm, hm, hm, hm…” Naomi’s hum echoes through the stadium, a flicker of life in her eyes as she holds the final E. Eren slowly turns his peg to sharpen the note, and the smile that softens the Imperial’s face is the first time Aventurine has ever seen her…happy.

The silence persists as Eren turns to the crowd, skin flushed and pale. The previous round began in total darkness, led by a chanting crowd and a thundering beat. Aventurine supposes the studio had done so to keep the energy up after his own round, but what could they do to follow that up?

He isn’t sure, but as he watches Eren’s gaze, he follows it to the middle rows of the stadium. Seated near the center, almost close enough to the judges’ booth, Aventurine spots Wyreth, tentacles lazily wrapped over his many folds. 

Wyreth, the Avgin’s mind recalls the ad with perfect clarity, breeding the best Titan studs around!

Realization strikes Aventurine in time with Eren’s first chord. His eyes have shut, head bobbing as his hand picks up speed. It stirs the crowd into an excited murmur, but he seems too focused on mouthing out the beat.

Then he stomps, and the pit comes alive with a storm of strings and bass. 

EREN

{00}

NAOMI

{00}

ROUND 2

EREN vs.NAOMI

“ Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart... ” Eren’s eyes screw shut as he leans into the mic. “ Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start! Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left. and waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head. ”

Aventurine blinks, chest burning. He’d gotten so swept up in the rich notes he’d forgotten to breathe, and from how still the entire crowd seems to be, he isn’t the only-

“ But it was not your fault but mine -” Naomi’s voice makes the Avgin seize. “- And it was your heart on the line! I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear? Didn't I, my-”

The music swallows their voices whole, but it is nothing compared to the roar of the crowd before them. Not even the speaker in his cell manages to contain the noise, crackling pitifully as Eren’s strums turn furious. His eyes finally open as he turns to Naomi, and as she does the same, he mouths again before giving one sharp nod. 

“ Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before!” Naomi sings on cue. “ Tremble, little lion man, you'll never settle any of your scores! Your grace is wasted in your face, your boldness stands alone among the wreck. Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck. ”

As the chorus repeats, Aventurine cannot help but savor the sound. Where Eren had been warm but bare, Naomi’s rings like a thousand bells, pure and dominating and nothing he expected to come out of her frail, trembling body. There is no flashiness like Round 1’s dancing, nor the powerful belting of Round 2, just pure vocals. Together, they form the perfect blend of grittiness and passion that would have even the coldest of listeners clapping. The audience’s raucous cheers certainly prove it. 

But that only makes him wonder. Beautiful and with a voice this strong? Clearly, she is worthy of the praise thrown at her by her fans, but why waste it by pushing her into the season? Aventurine remembers the interviewer asking the same thing, and all the Imperial answered with was ‘cash’.

The guitar drops, snapping Aventurine from his thoughts. Eren and Naomi seem solely focused on the other, the former strumming almost mechanically as the latter clings to his counting beats. 

Aventurine glances at their score, amazed to see them tied at [80]. There is no chance they will get to the next round together if they tie. As perfect as their harmonies are, something has to break.

And it does, a single crack in their pristine performance.

“ Ahh- ”

A ripple of shocked gasps break through the crowd as Naomi slaps a hand over her mouth. Eren’s eyes fly wide, frantically whipping between Naomi and the audience as his hands continue to play. It’s a desperate attempt to move on, but the silence is deafening, made worse by the clear panic in the Imperial’s face. The crack begins to spread.

Aventurine doesn’t know the song, but even he can tell Naomi came in too early. 

“ But it was not your fault but mine !” Eren tries to continue. “ And it was your heart on the line! I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear? ”

But it’s too late. Naomi’s score begins to dip, falling further and faster when she fails to join the Titan in the chorus. Instead, she drops to her knees, fists at her neck as her body heaves. 

Eren drops his guitar, nearly throwing it off the stage. The screen shows one final verse, another repeat of the chorus, but neither singer follows along. 

[ But it was not your fault but mine!]

The crowd begins to stir and jeer as Eren grips Naomi’s wrists. He’s trying to pry her hands from her neck, but she barely budges.

[And it was your heart on the line!]

Aventurine shifts on his feet. The scores are being calculated, but it’s clear that Eren is the winner. 

[ I really fucked it up this time ,]

The young Titan doesn’t seem to care, though. He’s dragged Naomi into his arms, soothing her hair and hiding her face from the camera. 

[ Didn't I, my dear? Didn’t I, my… ]

EREN

{81}

NAOMI

{70}

A spray of blood coats Eren’s white shirt. He doubles over Naomi’s lifeless body as cheers erupt from the crowd, and Aventurine’s speaker picks up the faintest gasp. “ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I… ”

ROUND 3

EREN vs. NAOMI

EREN WINS

-

It takes some time before That Which Wanders can retrieve Naomi’s corpse. Eren had refused to budge, and it ended up sedating him and tossing him to the guards before harvesting the Imperial’s body.

Just like before, Aventurine is released to the bathroom. Rene is already inside when he enters, cleaning the drying blood from her unconscious brother’s face. Her own eyes seem red, and he catches the faintest glint of teartracks on her cheeks before she turns away.

He almost wants to offer his condolences. The other half of him finds it quite convenient that both Titans made it to the next round. Even more convenient that they won’t have to face each other until the finale. 

“...If you plan on gloating,” Rene says suddenly, “can you wait until tomorrow?” 

Aventurine smooths his expression as the older Titan turns his way. “Why would I gloat?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she says, “it doesn’t look good on you.” Her hand balls the napkin she’d been using, and she breaks away from their impromptu staredown. “Just…leave us alone for tonight.”

Well, so much for that. Aventurine sighs and checks the wall timer, then begins to fidget with his rings. “Were…you also close with Naomi?” 

Rene brings the napkin to Eren’s brow. “We were her guards,” she admits after a moment. “Even if I did not feel for her like Eren did, she was still someone I stood by for years. She was…a friend.” 

Aventurine purses his lips and finally steps back. Right. They weren’t like Lucy or Kyoji; they actually knew each other, well before the show started. The flashing billboards displaying their childhood friendship made sure they all remembered, too.

He checks the wall timer once more. They have five minutes left before they’re forced back outside. 

“One last round,” he says eventually. “Are you ready?” 

Rene nods. “I am…interested to see their performance.” 

“How come?”

“That Which Wanders is not known for its pets, nor did it show much interest in Alien Stage until recently,” she says. A familiar, calculative glint in her eye returns. “I’m unsure of how much of a threat they are, but they must be confident if they were able to make it this far.”

Aventurine agrees. As friendly and open you may be, you and Leroy are still the biggest mystery out there. Still, if he wants to have any hope of gaining an ally next round, he’ll need you to win. 

And if you’re the self-sacrificing type…then he’ll have to just make it work.

Chapter Text

After a staff member injects Eren with some kind of adrenaline shot, Aventurine returns to his cell, sitting just as the judges begin to sob over Naomi’s little error.

“ That wasn’t like her, ” one cries out. “ I’ve attended over a hundred of her concerts ever since she was 6 and not once did she make an error so egregious. ”

“ Oh, but the stress, ” another says. “ Ever since she lost her last child, she was on such a clear decline. Putting her under pressure now only made it worse. ”

Aventurine blinks, staring at the photo of Naomi drifting across one giant screen. Her body looks too waifish, too easily blown away to be capable of having children. But Imperials are rare, aren’t they? And Eren was clearly her…

Breeding the best Titan studs around!

A trickle of true pity leaks through Aventurine’s chest. Two pods down, he can see Eren curled up on the ground, the blood on his clothes drying into a muddy brown. He wonders if the Titan even hears what the judges are saying. It’s not like they can turn the speakers off.

“ No matter, ” the host says with a wave of her hand. “ It’s about time we started wrapping up for the night, huh? How are we feeling, folks? ” The crowd cheers, only for her to tut and say, “ Now, that certainly isn’t enough! It’s almost like you guys don’t want to see our underdogs for the night! ”

This time, the crowd screams, and the host begins to rattle off menial facts about you and Leroy: pets from the Mesh, owned by an inorganic life form really obsessed with an ancient race native to Moriah. It isn’t anything Aventurine hasn’t already learned, but as he settles in, a tiny Mox scurries up to the judges’ panel, a note clutched between its mandibles.

“Oh? It seems our competitors’ owner sent us a note,” one judge says as it unfolds the paper. “It says, ‘Warning: performance may be damaging to Mox with sensitive hearing’. How interesting! Do we have the vocal coach responsible for this round? I’d love to try and hear a bit about what they have planned.”

“ Actually, the Morlocks refused the offer for a private coach! ” the host says. Based on the gasps, Aventurine assumes it’s uncommon. 

“ All the more exciting, ” another judge says with a giggle. “ Just what could these underdwellers have up their sleeves that make them so confident? ”

“ Well, it’s about time we found out! ”

The center of the stage retracts to uproarious applause. You greet the crowd with a toothy grin, waving with both hands as you approach your microphone. Leroy marches straight ahead, keeping his fists tight at his side. His outfit matches yours, covered in spikes, reflective leather, and dripping black makeup. The latter has forgone the jacket, though, leaving his chest bare for the cameras to center on.  

You make a show of tapping your microphone, a hush falling over the crowd as the thuds echo. It makes you jump, and you seem sheepish as you look to Leroy. You mouth something too softly for the speakers to pick up, but it makes your friend frown. 

He lifts two fingers and brings them to his temple, saluting. You nod back, then flash a thumbs up at the giant Mox in the pit. 

The arena falls silent as tentacles inch towards a strange mix of guitars, drums, and…whistles? What in the world could a song that uses whistles sound like? Especially with the 8-stringed guitars and thick, stocky basses?

Aventurine has no clue, but the screens catch you casually counting off the beat. It lures him closer, lures everyone closer to hear the opening line.

“Ũ̵͜N̴͙̊Ì̶̯Q̸̮̋Ṷ̵͒Ë̶̡́ - ”

“Gah!” Aventurine throws his hands over his ears, but it’s not enough to muffle the sudden blast  of electric guitar through his cell’s speakers. The crowd seems just as terrified, tentacles and limbs thrashing as music pours from the stage. Even Eren jolts out of his sulking, slamming his pillows over his ears. 

The drums and guitar pause. In those two blissful seconds of silence, Aventurine catches a smile on your face.

Then the music explodes, you begin to thrash, and the glass to his pod shatters. 

Aventurine can’t help but gasp, assaulted by the humid night air and  a sound he can only describe as dirty. It roars in his ears, burns through his veins and pounds against his pulse until it thumpthumpthumps in time with the frantic roll of the drums. It is one thing to hear it through the speakers. It is another to feel it drag against his skin. 

Still, you’re bouncing everywhere on stage, entire outfit flashing under the harsh light as you throw your whole body into your thrashing. To your side, Leroy is almost comically still. All he moves are his head and foot, mouthing off the beat as lyrics flash behind them. With his Beacon in place, Aventurine watches the translation flutter until you finally stop, clutching your mic in a deathgrip.

“ Here is the honorable world the virtuous desired! ” You seem surprised by the steadiness of your own voice, smile growing as you sing, “ Not even a single failure is forgivable! You fuck up and it's instant suicide, instant suicide!”

“Obscenity, slips of the tongue, fatal accidents—- ” Leroy growls into his mic. Aventurine grimaces at the noise. Your smile only grows wider as you gesture for him to get closer.

“ Instant suicide, instant suicide!”

“ Lateness, an early lunch, or ignoring the lights! ” Leroy tears the mic from his stand, and for the first time since he met the Morlock, Aventurine sees him smile as he snarls at the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s actually enjoying it, or if it’s because you’re bouncing and mouthing like a lunatic from the side. “ Before long, we’ll up our standards, saying ‘we’ll erase all evils at the root!’ The smallest of sins can’t get through, all. Must. BE. JUDGED!”

Whatever it is, it’s infectious; the audience surges as one, hanging on each snarled word as the drums climb and climb. And when the beat drops, Aventurine is all but deafened by your cheer.

“ Condemnation! Condemnation! There is no second chance, redemption is long gone! ” you scream. “ Condemnation! Condemnation! Cross my heart and take off my head instead! ”

It’s messy. Uncoordinated. Leroy saves you more than twice, grabbing your collar before you can throw yourself into the surging crowd. Compared to the first three rounds, it looks outright amateurish, but it reminds Aventurine of the clubs he’d visit on his rare nights off. Loud, obnoxious, but overflowing with so much sweat and life it tempts his own instincts to join in. 

“ In whose eyes, in whose eyes is it a lie? In whose eyes, in whose eyes is it a mistake? ” You don’t even finish your line, laughing half-way through as Leroy takes the mic. 

“Impressions, subjectivity, achievements, popularity-” 

“Visible and invisible things-” 

“All are being judged by the lenses of the false gods on the ground - that is your judge!”

“Condemnation! Condemnation! Freemasons, epidemics, ghosts -they’re all fake!” You wildly pump one fist, beaming wide as the audience cheers along. “ Condemnation! Condemnation! Cross my heart and take off my head instead! ” This time, you throw your arms wide as they scream the words back to you, just as incomprehensible as your dancing. “ A lie, all lies ...”

“ If you believe it, it's true and if you don't, it's… ” Leroy fills in as you laugh away. 

“ Just a lie, only lies .. .isn’t it? ” Your voice trails off, the bass tolling away as you wipe away your spittle with a sleeve. The last few lyrics flutter across the screen, and as Aventurine waits for Leroy to finish it, something stirs in his mind.

The score. He’d been so busy watching he didn’t check the scores. 

Just as Aventurine looks away, he catches you lifting your mic to your mouth. “ I don't want to be executed…or take responsibility, so I order you to…Kill. Yourself. ” You growl and press two fingers to your temple. Across the way, Leroy seems to mirror you. In sync, the two Morlocks salute, and you hiss, “ Now DIE. ”

Then the collars activate, and Aventurine looks back towards the stage. He blinks once, twice, then glances between the projections and the stage in surprise. It isn’t the cameras playing tricks on him. Leaking from Leroy’s throat is a gush of milky white. 

The crowd screeches at the sight. That Which Wanders appears in seconds, and just as a Mox attempts to climb the stage with his tongue lolling out, the mechanical creature pierces its hide and flings him aside. It knocks another attempting to dive for Leroy’s body. The host’s voice is barely audible over the pandemonium of the audience. The last glimpse Aventurine catches of you is your smile fading as your owner sweeps you away.

ROUND 4

R3-D4R vs. LEROY

R3-D4R WINS