Collection of Oneshots - LowOctaneGasoline (2024)

Chapter 1: Angulimala Sutta

Chapter Text

I have heard on one occasion that the Saint came upon our grounds. A quite frail and sickly slugcat, unable to even wield a spear. Yet, he can commune with our kind, and radiates an air of serenity. At that time, there was another of his kind by the name of Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. Having repeatedly killed our kind, she wore a mask adorned with our pearls.

Then the Saint, early in the cycle, continued his pilgrimage. After having a modest meal of a few blue fruits, he continued on his journey, passing through where Artificer was staying. Many saw him going into the region where Artificer was staying, and on seeing him said to him, “Don’t go into that place, blessed one, for within is Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. Having repeatedly killed our kind, she wore the mask of our chieftan, adorned with our pearls. Groups of five, ten, twenty, even thirty has gone along in there, and even they have fallen into Artificer’s hands.” When this was said, the Saint kept going in silence.

A second time… A third time, many said to the Saint, “Don’t go into that place, blessed one, for within is Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. Having repeatedly killed our kind, she wore the mask of our chieftan adorned with our pearls. Groups of five, ten, twenty, even thirty has gone in there, and even they have fallen into Artificer’s hands.” When this was said, the Saint kept going in silence.

Then Artificer saw the Saint coming from afar and on seeing him, this thought occurred to her: “Isn’t it amazing! Isn’t it astounding! Hunters, Tolls, Elites, all have gone along this road, and even they have fallen into my hands, and yet now this frail green slugcat comes attacking, as it were, alone and without a companion. Pity that he associates with those scavengers. Why don’t I kill him?” So Artificer, taking up her explosive spear, donning her mask, followed right behind the Saint.

The Artificer threw her spear at Saint, seeking to eliminate the target immediately. However, as the spear whizzed through the air, it began to compress and slow. First to half its length, then a quarter, then an eighth. Eventually, the pebble grinded to a halt, dropping on to the ground behind the Saint. Artificer bared her teeth in frustration. No simple illusion is going to stop her from chasing him down. The Artificer began barreling forwards at terrifying speeds, using her tail to create blasts that propel her forward even faster.

Then the Saint willed a feat of psychic power such that Artificer, though dashing forward with all her might, could not catch up with the Blessed One walking at normal pace. Then the thought occurred to Artificer: “Isn’t it amazing! Isn’t it astounding! In the past I have chased and caught up to even a fleeing king vulture, a cyan lizard, even a train lizard. But now, even though I race foward with all my might, I can’t catch up with this frail being walking at normal place.” So she stopped and called out to the Saint, “Stop, frail one, stop!”

"I have stopped, Artificer. You stop."

So Artificer, the violent one, addressed this verse to the Blessed One:

"While walking, frail one, you say, 'I have stopped.' But when I have stopped you say I haven't. I ask you the meaning of this: How have you stopped? How haven't I?"

"I have stopped, Artificer, once & for all, having cast off the first natural urge towards all that is living. You, though, still have violence tearing from deep inside you. That's how I've stopped and you haven't."

"At long last an enlightened one, for my sake has come to my grounds. Having heard your wisdom, I will go about having abandoned evil.

So saying, the killer hurled her spear and mask over a cliff into a chasm, a pit. Then the Artificer paid homage to those who had awakened before, and requested freedom from the cycle.

The ascended one, the triple affirmative, the one who tends to the graves of the cycles past, said to her then: "Come, pilgrim." That in itself was monkhood for her.

After freeing the mechanical gods from their cycles, the Saint set out wandering into the wilds once more, to the facility of Chasing Winds, Artificer as his attendant monk. After traveling through many lands, they reached the edge of the facility grounds, and there he lived, in the grove atop the overgrown isles.

Now at that time a large crowd of scavengers, loud and noisy, had gathered at the gate to Chieftan Kosala’s domain, [caling out,] ”There is a murderer in your realm, sire, named Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. Having repeatedly killed our kind, she wore a chieftan’s mask adorned with our pearls. The chieftain must stamp her out!”

Then Chieftan Kosala, with a band of the most powerful elites, exited his domain and entered the home of the Blessed one, a communication module now overgrown with moss and lichen. They band walked on foot to the Saint. On arrival, having bowed down, he sat to one side. As he was sitting there, the Saint said to him, “What is it, great king? Has Chieftan Bimbisara of the Tainted Aquifers provoked you? Or would it be some other tribe, slugcat or scavenger?”

“No, saintly one. Chieftain Bimbisara of the Tainted Aquifers hasn’t provoked me, no have any other tribe, slugcat or scavenger. There is a fugitive in my realm, saintly one, named Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. Having repeatedly killed our kind, she wore a chieftan’s mask adorned with our pearls. I am going to stamp her out.”

“Chieftan, suppose you were to see Artificer rid of her mask, rid of her spears, taking the creed of monkhood, having gone forth from the home life into one of wandering and pilgrimage, refraining from killing living beings, refraining from taking what is not give, refraining from telling lies, eating gravel and herbal tea, seeking the path to ascension for herself and others, virtuous and of fine character: what would you do to her?”

“We would bow down to her, saintly one, or rise up to greet her, or offer her a seat, or offer her lanterns, food, shelter, herbs, or we would arrange guards, protection, and defense. But how could there be such virtue and restraint in one so unvirtuous, one that is through and through brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way? One that is so steeped in violence that she turned tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland?

”

Now at that time Artificer was sitting not far from the Blessed one, a bandage slung over the blinded eye and the other eye closed in meditation. So, the Saint, pointing with his right arm, said to Chieftan Kosala, “That, chieftain, is Artificer.” Then Chieftan Kosala was frightened, terrified, his hair standing on end. The chieftan pulled a spear from his back, ready to defend himself from the one who cleansed the land in blood. So the Blessed One, sensing the chieftan’s fear and hair-raising awe, said to him, “Don’t be afraid, chieftan. Don’t be afraid. She poses no danger to you.”

Then the Chieftan's fear, his terror, his hair-standing-on-end subsided. He went over to Artificer and said, "Are you really Artificer, saintly one?" Without even opening her eyes, Artificer looked at Chieftan Kosala, and answered.

"Yes, chieftan."

"Where do you originate from?"

"I originate near the facility of Gazing Stars. I was exiled from my tribe, and traveled to the Facility of Looks to the Moon and Five Pebbles. In there, I had children, children who I lost to your kind, driving me down to senseless violence and suffering."

"Then may they smile upon you, then. I will be responsible for your food, shelter, medicinal herbs, and other amenities."

Now it so happened that at that time Artificer was a wanderer, a pilgrim, a monk, wearing nothing but the bandage that covers her eye and a robe made of scraps and cloth. So she said to Chieftan Kosala, “Enough, chieftain. I already have all I need.”

So Chieftan Kosala went to the Saint and on arrival, having bowed down, sat to one side. As he was sitting there he said to the Blessed One, "It's amazing, saintly one. It's astounding, how the you has tamed the untamed, pacified the unpeaceful, and brought to unbinding the natural urges from those who are bound the most. For what we could not tame even with spears or rocks, you has tamed with neither. Now, Saint, we must go. Many are our duties, many our responsibilities."

"Then do, chieftan, our cycles shall meet again."

Then Chieftan Kosala got up from his seat, bowed down to the Saint and — keeping him to his right — departed.

The Saint and his attendant, the once-killer Artificer, exited the facility of Chasing Winds, currently staying in a shelter to rest and prepare for the next leg of the pilgrimage. Then Artificer, in the dawn of a new cycle, having put on her robes and ready to gather food for the both of them, passed by the settlement of a slugcat tribe. As she was about to exit through the other side, a piercing scream rang out from one of the alcoves. Rushing in, Artificer saw a gruesome sight. Two other tribe members surround a third curled up in a nest, crying out in agony. As a mother herself, Artificer knew this one to be in labor, and a harsh one at that.

After conversing with the two surrounding the mother-to-be, the Artificer learned that she has suffered a breech birth, and has been like this since late last night, the pup unable to exit properly, no medicine or ointment the tribe has provided could ease the pain in any way. If it continues like this, without resolution, the life of her and her pups are at stake. Unable to see someone being tormented like this any longer, Artificer fled the settlement, back to the encampment where the enlightened one sat meditating.

Bowing down to the green slugcat, she sat to one side. As she was sitting there she said to the Saint, “Just now, Saintly One, at the dawn of a new cycle, having put on my robes and ready to gather food for the both of us, I passed by the settlement of a slugcat tribe. As I was about to exit through the other side, a piercing scream rang out from one of the alcoves. Two tribe members surround a third curled up in a nest, crying out in agony; She was in labor, and a harsh one at that. The slugcat was suffering a breech birth all the way since late last night, the pup unable to exit properly, no medicine or ointment the tribe has provided could ease the pain in any way. If it continues like this, without resolution, the life of her and her pups are at stake. Unable to see a mother like I once was being tormented like this any longer, I left the settlement to ask you for guidance.”

“In that case, Artificer, go to that mother-to-be and on arrival say to her, “Sister, since I was born, I have abated from my karmic urges, shedding myself from the base desires that chains everyone down, shedding myself from the pain the cycle brings. Through this truth may there be wellbeing for you, wellbeing for your pups.” Press your hand onto her forehead, then her abdomen, and there would be wellbeing for her, wellbeing for her pups.”

“But Saint, would that not be a lie for me? I have gorged myself upon the first natural urge, having intentionally killed hundreds. I have gorged myself upon the second natural urge, having reproduced and had pups of my own. I have gorged myself upon the third natural urge, having attached myself to them, their death ultimately causing my path of violence. I have gorged myself upon the fourth natural urge, sending creatures back into the cycle just so I can fill my hunger with their flesh. The only urge I have not gorged myself upon is the fifth. How could I tell such a bold-faced lie to her face, when lying in of itself is unvirtuous?”

"In that case, Artificer, go to that mother-to-be and on arrival say to her, “Sister, since I was reborn of noble birth, I have abated from my karmic urges, shedding myself from the base desires that chains everyone down, shedding myself from the pain the cycle brings. Through this truth may there be wellbeing for you, wellbeing for your pups.”Press your hand onto her forehead, then her abdomen, and there would be wellbeing for her, wellbeing for her pups.”

Artificer bowed once more. “As you say, Saint.” The pilgrim returned to the settlement, into the alcove, and knelt next to the slugcat, curled up in the nest and babbling incoherently. Artificer recited the lines, in a gentle and reassuring tone. “Sister, since I was reborn of noble birth, I have abated from my karmic urges, shedding myself from the base desires that chains everyone down, shedding myself from the pain the cycle brings. Through this truth may there be wellbeing for you, wellbeing for your pups.” Artificer put her hand on the slugcat’s forehead, then the slugcat’s abdomen. The breathing slowed, and the writhings and cries of agony ceased. And there was wellbeing for her, wellbeing for her pups.

Exiting to find more food, Artificer was forced to return with meager amounts, unable to find more before the sun began to set. Re-entering into the settlement once more on her return journey to her and Saint’s shelter, the tribe surrounds her in celebration, praising her as a venerated one, a worker of miracles: the slugcat she has healed had given birth to two healthy pups, two that would have died of suffocation otherwise. Artificer was paraded around the tribe, every member stuffing food and trinkets into her hands as a sign of gratitude. After picking the most durable and imperishable of the meals for their travels ahead, the slugcat returned to the encampment at dusk.

Artificer sat aside Saint, putting the offering of food on the ground. As the two silently ate their meal, the Artificer inquired. “So how was it, Venerated One, that my actions and my words were able to heal? The slugcat was suffering a breech birth all the way since late last night, the pup unable to exit properly, no medicine or ointment the tribe has provided could ease the pain in any way. If it had continued like this, without resolution, the life of her and her pups would have been at stake. How was it that my words alone allowed them to come into the world healthy and alive?”

“The ultimate goal of existence is to rid oneself of suffering, rid oneself of Dukkha. Dukkha, be it injuries, isolation, anger, or death, chains one closer to the cycle, bringing them further away from ascension. The more one is attuned to the world, attuned to the cycle, one can gain the ability to ease others of their suffering, be it suffering of the mind, or suffering of the body.”

“The highest levels of this, this easing of suffering, is the ability to remove one’s suffering from the cycle by its entirety. That ability has a name given by the ones who are long gone, the Triple Affirmative. My enlightenment is what grants me this ultimate removal, to free the trapped remnants of the last great cycle still struggling along. Perhaps one cycle, your attunement would mature enough to gain the same gift.”

The Blessed One and his attendant passes by the facility of Five Pebbles and Looks to the Moon, on their way towards No Significan Harrassment. To rest and restock on food, Artificer wanders out again to gather more from the local wilds. Now at that time, Artificer encounters a group of scavengers from within the facility walls. The leader of the pack, a stocky elite with a blue vulture mask, exclaimed out to the slugcat. “The gods must have blessed us today! We stand before Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. Having repeatedly killed our kind, she wore our chieftan’s mask, adorned with our pearls. Yet, she has reappeared, unarmed and frail, daring to show her face back in these lands!”

Artificer tried to say something, but soon her words are cut off by the scavengers. “Trying to appear as that frail slugcat, are you? To absolve you of your own crimes? The blessed one is an old and blind fool, if he thought you a good and moral disciple. That chieftain might have been ignorant enough to “forgive” you of your crimes, as if he has ever had something taken from him, but we see through you. Artificer: brutal, bloody handed, devoted to killing and slaying, is still hidden behind that holy visage. We can sense you, Artificer, who has taken so many’s parents, siblings, friends, we can see through your pitiful disguise.

The scavengers clearly intent on attacking her, Artificers followed her instincts and fled. However, as Artificer whipped her tail and propelled herself into the air, a spear intercepted her path, jamming itself into her back. Rolling onto the ground wounded, Artificer tries to crawl away, but her limbs gave out, and soon so did her vision. The last thing she saw is the scavengers walking towards her, spears in hand.

Artificer awoke in the shelter, the pain of the embedded spear still dully aching. The Saint, sat in meditation, sensed what had transpired. Even with her level of attunement, death still draws oneself closer to the carnal plane, closer to the natural urges. Even now, Artificer could feel her old self awakening, frustration and anger that is starting to simmer and bubble. “Saintly one, how does one remove oneself from their past? I have changed my ways, yet others still think not, thinking of me as Artificer: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing and slaying, showing no mercy to all that came her way. Turning tolls into non-tolls, treasuries into empty rooms, tribal grounds into deserted wasteland. How should I endure the suffering that they had wrought upon me now?”

The Saint opened his eyes, bearing a stern look at Artificer. “Bear with it, Artificer! Bear with it! No one can outrun the consequences of their actions, much less you. The fruit of your actions, the one that would have ultimately left you as one of the spectres grandiosely haunting the premises for hundreds of thousands of cycles, you are now experiencing in the here and now! Attunement can not shield you from your past actions, all you could do is not let it grab on, and drag you away into the natural urges once more.”

“Very well, Blessed One, very well.” Artificer responded. “I shall go find a different place to go gather food for us, and I will return to meditate upon this and re-attune myself to what I have lost during death.” So, Artificer stood up, and exited the shelter, finding a new path ahead in search of food.

Chapter 2: Bubblefruit

Chapter Text

“Mom!”

“Moooooommmm!”

Artificer’s green pup walks alongside their mother, tugging at her arms as their other hand holds a hard-shelled fruit. The maroon slugcat was already quite weary for the day, and so was her eldest child, a blue pup that was currently snoozing away on her back. Pups this young are not fit for long-distance travel, but they have been the best companions for this pilgrimage that she could have ever asked for. Her other child’s pestering only served to further tire her psyche, but she knew it would be something she would cherish one day. Sadly, Artificer would be correct, but not in the sense she expected.

“We will get you your bubblefruit when we find a clean stream, alright?” Artificer muttered, a tinge of exhaustion present in her voice. “Mommy needs to focus right now. Making sure no bad lizards come to eat us.” That should be enough for them to quiet for a bit. Her green pup was an enjoyer of the gifts of nature, loving everything from centipedes to slime molds and, most of all, bubblefruits. She personally did not find the slimy plum-like fruit to be too appetizing even in her youth, the flavor too faint for her liking, but their tastes are clearly something not inherited from her.

It had been twenty or so cycles since they fully unweaned and transitioned to food fit for pups. She herself had expedited this change, knowing that having their only food source being her was risky and impractical for travel. She partially chewed and mushed up softer foods like slime mold or dandelion cherries into an edible paste to prepare their stomachs for a more nutritiously diverse diet. It was only a few cycles after that transition, when Artificer washed a few bubblefruits in a small stream for her pups to eat, that her green pup discovered their favorite meal.

It was hesitant at first, the pup sniffing over the now gelatinous and soft skin of the expanded bubblefruit, looking curiously at the core within it. After taking a tentative bite, however, their arms let go of the large fruit as they dropped it on the ground. Artificer had assumed they did not like it, but the eyes and face tell a different story. It was as if the cosmos had collapsed into a single point, and the chunk of bubblefruit was the delivery method into the pup’s systems. They were in shock, trying to process the taste of pure delicacy that their undeveloped brain simply could not comprehend. It was only mere seconds before the pup dropped down to pick up the bubblefruit, snarfing it down with a newfound ravenousness in only three bites, dirt particles sticking to the fruit’s surface and all.

Now, the pup’s reactions when encountering an unpopped bubblefruit were like clockwork. Unless there is a lizard in the way, they will dash to it the first chance they get, holding the hard dehydrated shell of the bubblefruit in their small hands before running back to demand her to find a place to make the fruit pop. Walking through the wild jungles, Artificer noticed that the cloud was getting denser by the cycle, with it now so thick that she could barely see through the sky, up at the looming walls of her destination. It was late afternoon, and night will fall soon. She had already eaten from a lizard; all she needed to do was find a place to feed her children.

As she picked up her other pup off the ground in order to leap the three of them across a chasm, she found what she was looking for: A stream. The water looked clear, and there was a felled orb tree lying near here that she could use as cover for their meal. If there was enough space under here, she could probably even use it as a shelter for the night. There are some slime molds resting on the side of the logs. Picking up the largest bulbs, she inspected them for mold or other potentially hazardous growths attached to it, things that would make a pup quite sick. Luckily, the globs of pulpy orange cells are spotless, save for easily cleanable dirt stains.

Artificer placed the molds on a clean enough rock, before reaching her hand over her shoulders to pick her other pup off, still asleep despite the journey here. “Wakey wakey, sleepyhead.” She spoke tenderly, gently nudging the blue pup to wake them up. “Dinner’s ready.” They were still a bit sick from the fever they got a few cycles ago, but the worst of it has already passed, with them just being less energetic than usual for now. They stirred, grumbling something in annoyance, before groggily getting off Artificer’s arms to eat their meal. The blue pup was not as food motivated as their sibling, but slime mold was one of the few foods that they were not picky about. As the blue pup ate their meal, Artificer finally turned back to her green pup, insistent on saving their stomach space for their favorite food.

“Now, the moment you have been waiting for, little connoisseur.” Grabbing the unpopped bubblefruit from their hands, she knelt down near the stream, submerging the hard shell of the fruit within the currents while cupping her hands behind it to ensure it did not flow away downstream. With the interior of the fruit now drenched with water, it begins to expand, the compressed flesh of the bubblefruit now becoming translucent and soft, perfect food for a pup’s pallette. Soon enough, it expands to the maximum size, just about big enough for the pup to hold with both arms.

Fishing it out of the water, Artificer placed the large fruit into the eagerly awaiting hands of the pup, who sat down to enjoy their delicious meal. They have learned to eat it at a slower pace now, to ensure that they could make the experience of the bubblefruit as long as possible. Every gentle bite was followed by them pulling their head back up, closing their eyes in satisfaction as they experienced every sensation the cool and refreshing fruit had to offer before swallowing and having their next bite. Artificer gets it, there were fruits when she was a pup that she did the same things to, much to her own parents’ amusem*nt. She is sure these will become fond memories for them when they grow up, but for now, the maroon slugcat sat against the fallen log, watching her children dine on their meals.

“... the fruits have such a mild flavor, the gelatinous texture is so refreshing, it's just the gre-”

“...Arti?”

Rivulet exited from her monologue, currently sat down opposite from Artificer while she enjoyed a delicious meal of bubblefruit. It was her favorite food, and being constantly damp allowed her to eat these bad boys whenever, without needing clean water to wash it like normal slugcats do. However, she now noticed that her partner was not listening at all, her eye staring intently at the slimy fruit in the aquatic slugcat’s hands. “Arti? What’s wrong?”

The mother slugcat snapped out of her trance, suddenly blinking out of her functional eye rapidly, staring back up at Rivulet’s face. “H-huh? I just… hold on.” It was as if her mate was being pulled out from another reality, only now realizing she had always been sitting in a dried tunnel across from Rivulet. “Sorry… I got a bit distracted for a second. The bubblefruits… brought up some bad memories.”

The blue slugcat dropped the bubblefruits in her hand, slowly approaching Artificer to comfort her. “Do you want to talk about it?” Rivulet’s mate hesitated, contemplating if she should expose her own past failures, but the trusting expression in Rivulet’s eyes is what decided for her to share. Taking a shaky breath, she shared the reason why the bubblefruit plagued her so.

“Back when I had pups, the green one loved bubblefruits also.” The maroon slugcat closed her eyes, reminiscing through memories. “They loved bubblefruits more than anything else in the world. They would pester me with a dried bubblefruit, to take them to a clear stream and make the fruit pop.” She chucked sadly, finding some humor in her mate’s special ability. “They would have loved you. A mobile bubblefruit-popping slugcat, you would be their hero, their star.”

Rivulet has heard the story of her mate’s loss before, in tear-filled conversations in the middle of the night, Artificer dumping her guilt and sorrow out into Rivulet’s shoulders as she awoke from visions of cycles long past. She had now grown adept at handling her mate’s grief, to ensure she felt comforted and cared for. However, the new information also caused wires to start connecting in her head, until the bigger picture was formed, a tapestry of horrific, horrific irony. “Your green pup… that was the one who drowned, wasn’t it?”

Artificer put a hand to her remaining eye, sobbing as she tried to contain the tears falling out of it. The aquatic slugcat was quick to action, moving over to allow the larger slugcat to cry over her shoulders, patting her back and making shushing noises. “It’s alright, Arti. Let it out. I am here for you.” The tears that run down her back merged with her innate dampness; the grief within her partner requires her to absorb, to dissolve. The conversation could have as few or as many words as the maroon slugcat felt comfortable with, but Rivulet was sure she would listen to every word.

“I could not save them on that day. I… I was so close! I had grasped at their hand, and was about to pull them up!” Artificer began to ramble, hardly intelligible between sobs. Patience was not a virtue that Rivulet usually indulged in, but her mate needed to go through this at her own pace, to go through her own thought processes so she could intervene and comfort her when it turned dangerous or self-harming. “It was the leeches! They dragged them down!”

“I… I could have saved them… I could have saved my pup…” Artificer’s grip tightened on Rivulet’s shoulders, a venom of self-loathing in her voice. “If I could dive my head underwater for more than three seconds! I could have swam down and dragged them out! I could have exploded the leeches away! I could have still been a mother!” Rivulet stroked down Artificer’s back, continuing to soothe her mate’s broken heart. “There, there. It was not your fault, you know. You could not have possibly done any more in that situation. You had done your best.”

Artificer’s wails eventually faded, the sniffling becoming more and more infrequent. Rivulet’s partner was somewhat stable for now, but her mood was still somber, stricken with grief and regret. She was fine with giving her passive support for the rest of the cycle, but taking a quick glance at the few popped bubblefruits on the ground gave Rivulet a new idea, a potential way for not only her mood to improve, but also to start her process of healing this loss.

The maroon slugcat’s reaction to her partner putting one of the bubblefruits in her hands was initially one of confusion, before seeing Rivulet sitting back down, with her own bubblefruit in hand. “Now, Arti, I need you to trust me, alright? Follow what I do.” Still not knowing what she was doing, Artificer’s mood was somewhat replaced with puzzlement, but decided to follow the aquatic slugcat’s movements and raise the bubblefruit up, taking a bite of it into their mouth.

It… tasted fine, nowhere filling for her, but good enough as a cool, light snack. As Artificer’s partner swallowed her chunk of bubblefruit, she looked back towards her. “Now, Artificer, what did the bubblefruit taste like to you?” “It did not taste like much. There was a faint sweetness to it, a little bit salty as well due to the water.” With her mind now occupied with sensations, Artificer’s mood started to lighten, even if it was by a little.

Rivulet responded. “Now, I am sure your pup had told a lot about how much they like this fruit, right?” Artificer’s expression briefly became somber again, snapped out of her efforts to describe the sensation of her meal. “What I am thinking is… since both me and your pup seem to like the fruit a lot, I could describe to you exactly what I taste from it! Maybe we both see the same potential in this thing!” The aquatic slugcat continued. “It would be like… if your pup could actually tell you what’s so great about their favorite food!”

Seeing Artificer’s blank expression, Rivulet dropped her excited look, wondering if this was too soon for her partner. “Arti… I am sorry if that was insensitive. If you want, we could just-” “No.” The maroon slugcat cut her off, now eyes refocused and staring at her, a slight smile on her face. “Tell me about what you taste from the bubblefruit, Rivulet.”

For a few minutes afterward, it was as if Artificer never recalled the bad memories related to these bubblefruits. Rivulet informed her about how the cold, gelatinous flesh of the bubblefruit felt as it slid down the tongue and throat, and Artificer would take a bite to inundate herself with the sensation. Rivulet told her about the faint, nutty aroma the core gives off as you crunch down on it, and Artificer would take a bite to inundate herself with the sensation. It was almost as if her pup was back in front of her again, desperately trying to convince their mother that the bubblefruit was the best possible food on the planet. Through this bubblefruit, Artificer took in every sensation, savoring every bite, letting the memories and experiences flow through her.

It was not filling her stomach, still a high-metabolism carnivore by nature, but it was certainly more than enough to satiate her emotional needs. This rite, communion, whatever Rivulet would call it, had made her feel better, feeling as if she was able to see her pups again, even for just a few minutes. Watching in contentment as Rivulet finished up the rest of the bubblefruits, Artificer stood up to end their rest, to find a shelter for the rain cycle. As the aquatic slugcat wiped her mouth of bubblefruit juices, standing up to join Artificer, a question suddenly entered her mind. “Say… Arti. Maybe one cycle, we should do this for your other pup? This seems to have helped you a lot.”

“I… don’t think your method could really work on my other pup,” Artificer said, sadness returning to her voice. “their favorite food was dandelion cherries, a favorite they share with me. However, the fruit was native to the areas surrounding my home, not here.”

“Dandelion Cherries…” Rivulet scanned through her memories journeying around here, the name being familiar to her, but she was not sure why. After a few moments of racking her brain, she found the connection. “Oh! Does this ‘dandelion cherry’ happen to grow on a plant that also produces fluff?” Artificer immediately became intrigued, turning around with interest. “Yes, actually. How did you know that?” Rivulet smiled, a plan already brewing in her mind.

“I am not sure if we are thinking of the same fruit or just relatives, but it’s worth a shot.” Rivulet rubbed her hands together in excitement. “There was a fruit of that description that grows very high up, in an area I dub ‘sky islands’. We can change our course and start heading there by the start of the next cycle.”

Artificer looked more excited than she had been in a few cycles, even if Rivulet included her killing scavengers. “That's wonderful!” She exclaimed. “You ought to tell me everything you know about this fruit when we go into a shelter. Speaking of which, we should get going now. The rain approaches.” Rivulet nodded, before heading into the tunnel ahead, with Artificer following behind, leaving the alcove empty once more.

Chapter 3: The Reaper and The Immortal

Chapter Text

Spearmaster had lived a long, long life.

Even if they had never experienced birth, never experienced the confusion and underdevelopment of puphood, their life has long since transcended that of a normal slugcat. They had siblings once, yes, when they were newly ejected from the growing vats. Previous experiments, Suns said. Some looked very similar, others different, but they all died eventually. Not from anything bad, mind you. They died happy and content in the arms of those whom they loved. It was simply old age that finally claimed them and caused them to move back into the cycle. The specter of time, however, never came to Spearmaster.

They had a purpose, after all, even after all the others had long lost theirs. They were the magnum opus of Seven Red Suns’ creation, the messenger to surpass all messengers. The seventh of their kind, they were destined to be an emissary of random gods, to continue assisting them until the end of time. Every time their slugcat body started to show signs of wear, age affecting their organs, or contraction of illnesses, their creator was quick to heal injuries, rejuvenate tissue, and refresh cell genomes, ensuring that their creation would not succumb to any ordinary illness or degenerative disease.

In a way, Spearmaster became closer to their creators than others of their kind, a timeless being serving a single purpose. In the millenniums that had passed, they had interacted with other slugcats countless times. Some were enemies, but others were friends, and others still would be something they would call lovers. With the graciousness of Seven Red Suns and their ability in genetic engineering, they could even obtain offspring from them and their mortal partners, be it through implantation or direct vat growth. Each time, they raised these parts of them with a tenderness only befitting a parent, briefly forgetting their immortal existence as Spearmaster vows to make their children have the childhood they never had.

However, neither their partners nor offspring were granted this timeless existence. Every time they love, there will come a point where time catches up to them. They still remember the look of pure bliss in Rivulet’s faded eyes, passing on into the next form of her existence within the cycle. They still remember when they looked at the descendants of them and Enot’s union, technically their great-great-grandchildren, now adults and integrated into the nearby tribes. Eventually, time moves on without them, their partners grow old and either ascend or reenter the cycle, their descendants no longer resemble or remember them, and they will be back again. Back again as 07, back again as Spearmaster, back again as the messenger of Seven Red Suns, back again as the lone slugcat to withstand time itself.

Well… kinda. Therewasanother who technically traveled with them throughout eternity. Hunter was a collective designation to every single one of No Significant Harassment’s messengers, who used his creations a lot more liberally. There was really no point in memorizing them as individuals, as they all look the same and act similarly, clones of the first Hunter who had died tens of thousands of cycles ago. They had subdesignations, but the name remained the same, a name that they all identified by. There were a few memorable instances, some of which were included in the list of those whom Spearmaster had held most dear to. As time went on, however, the grief of seeing a beloved version die only for an effectively blank slate to arrive, freshly ejected from a vat, made them grow weary of relationships with the mortal yet infinite slugcat, no longer attempting anything further with the hunter instances other than the occasional friendship.

Spearmaster eventually learned to spend the time they have with mortals around them, to process their grief and accept that they are a constant in the tides of time. Tribes rise and fall, tales woven and forgotten, and rivers ebb and flow, but they remain, their creators remain. Through the ages, they learned to use what they had, to seek the truths and knowledge lost deep in this world. They have mastered reading the ancient scripts through and through, able to scrounge through the data archives of Seven Red Suns and No Significant Harassment for literature and artworks long gone. What was once a simple sign language grew more complex, now able to encompass the vast majority of their creator’s lingo. They even managed to train their tail holes to vocalize, but the voice range was only enough for them to communicate shoddily in slugspeak. Really, if their tail had more versatility, Spearmaster would have learned how to speak ancient by now.

Pain fades away as the centuries march on, and so do grudges, eventually. The pink iterator was once a subject of their nightmares, a horror that had betrayed them and made them suffer. After Five Pebbles opened the lockdown, they were sent in after many cycles of deliberations and risk calculations. What they found inside the puppet chamber was not the friendly face that greeted them when they were still freshly born, a golden pearl implanted within them, nor the silent anger that greeted them when they returned with a red pearl. With their comprehension of their creator’s kin, Spearmaster saw him as a broken and scared god, corrupted from the inside out by his own mistakes. Sun’s planned cures that prompted their voyage yielded no salvation, but they had ultimately forgiven Five Pebbles enough to give him a last comfort and their own blessings.

However, even this eternity has slowly started to flicker. The collapse of Five Pebbles was only a matter of time, so soon after the loss of his mass rarefaction cell that their then-partner and thief of the final cell, Rivulet, was still alive to see the superstructure fall. However, the collapse of Chasing Winds was a true omen, for the cause of their fall was not due to internal diseases but to a specter Spearmaster had long forgotten---aging. It was no mere coincidence either, as their missions to distant iterators only tell of the same result: the end of this age slowly approaches.

Seven Red Suns was as robust and strong as ever, but they knew that what happened to their colleagues would one day happen to them as well. It is only a matter of time before the day when Suns no longer have the equipment to rejuvenate them arrives, and they would be put off-duty permanently. As iterators started to collapse on their own across the continent, the climate became colder and colder, more reminiscent of a time that predated the iterator’s existence. Even at that point, Spearmaster would have thought this death would be as slow as their life, waiting for their creator to finally fall like all the others as eons continue to pass. How ironic it was, then, that the specter of death could not wait any longer, and decided to manifest its physical form to reap all that remains.

With the broadcast networks long, long decayed at this point, it became very hard to check if an iterator was dead or alive without directly sending a messenger to check. One visible identifier that could be used on nearby iterators, however, was if their underhang still flashed, if clouds continued to pour out of the exhaust ports. With an iterator in decline, the output of these two life signs grows weaker and weaker until it ceases completely, with collapse becoming inevitable by that point. It takes a few hundred cycles at the very least for that to happen, which was why the situation currently at hand was so much of an anomaly.

Shortly after returning from a visit to Shattered Glass(an iterator in their creator’s local group), Spearmaster entered the puppet chamber to see Seven Red Suns panicking, scanning over a series of overseer footages again and again. No Significant Harassment has suddenly stopped showing activities altogether, even when just mere cycles earlier he was producing at the healthiest rates there could be. Scanning overseer pictures of other iterators like Unparalleled Innocence or Gazing Stars showed similar results, though it was much less certain for them due to their distance.

Sun’s fear was further confirmed when a Hunter instance did not arrive on the expected window, usually on the 30th-40th cycle of every two hundred cycles to deliver status updates between the two iterators. Seven Red Suns wrote it off as him being late, partially to convince themselves that No Significant Harassment was fine, but by then they had already started making the slag reset keys and the neuron bundles needed to jumpstart their friend back to life if worst came to worst. Spearmaster was preparing on a mission to Looks To The Moon and Five Pebbles, to check up on both No Significant Harassment and the other two fallen iterators for signs of life, when the overseers alerted them both to something new approaching the facility walls.

The overseers did not mind much of it at first, merely a green slugcat with the adaption of much thicker coat, usual for slugcats adapted to the colder climate of the current times. The three dots on its head were certainly strange, but at first glance it did not show anything out of the ordinary. The following overseer footage, showing the slugcat taking flight and instantaneously killing creatures using a halo in the shape of the Karma 10 symbol, however, was more than enough to change their creator’s mind. The two of them have discussed for a few cycles as the slugcat continues to make its way to the facility, pouring over overseer footage and looking through past theories to possibly explain its existence. Eventually, both of them come to one conclusion: It was a triple affirmative, or at least something that pretended to be it.

Their goodbye was one filled with dread, as the behavior of the slugcat shows it ascends entities with ease. However, the potential of capturing the affirmative and possibly even replicating it would be immense. Spearmaster achieved the tenth karma at a relatively early point of their life, but they rejected the call of the void. They value their service and bond to their creator above all else, following their will and desiring to continue their duty as a divine messenger. Ascension occasionally tugs at them, in their weakest moments as they grieve the loss of those whom they loved to the cycle, but their will remains strong, the void giving no offering that they do not already have.

Now, they walk with two spears in hand, ready to cripple the target and knock it out if it proves necessary. Even with the steam of Seven Red Suns’ can providing warmth to the facility grounds, the harsh coldness outside still creeps in on the early post-rain dawns, Spearmaster’s exhales through their nostrils turning into puffs of frozen vapor. Carried on their back was a kit of various tools that Seven Red Suns had prepared: first aid kits, resuscitation devices, tranquilizers, and various other mechanisms that ensure this slugcat could be transported back safely if the target displayed any aggression.

As they stood in front of the target, spears at the ready, the last thing they expected was for the slugcat to speak. Well, not speaking in slugspeak, that is usual. The slugcat’s vocal cords strained to carry out the sounds he had to make, but what came out of his mouth was something Spearmaster’s mark of communication recognized: ancient. “I sense your cycle, artificial one. I presume you are here under the orders of Seven Red Suns?”

Still, the purple slugcat was not fazed by this, knowing the consequences of being knocked off course. If this thing was truly the triple affirmative, it would not be out of expectation for it to have strange traits like this. By now, manipulating their tail to vocalize was like breathing to them, so they communicated back in slugspeak. “Do you understand this language?”

“I can speak in this dialect of slugspeak, but not as well.” The green slugcat said using a far less strained tone, his vocal cords taking a breath of relief as its owner used it for the chittering and chirping of slugspeak that it was born for instead of the more guttural and refined tone of ancient. Spearmaster still raised their spear, not trusting the triple affirmative for a moment and waiting for him to start floating so they could incapacitate him and make the journey back to Seven Red Suns a lot less risky. “I see that you believe me to be a threat. Do you fear that I will ascend you, like others?” The green slugcat responded, still sensing hostility.

“I not only know, I have seen your abilities being used indiscriminately. If you were in my place, you would understand my current reservations.”

“Your cycle is aberrant and winding, to extend far past your time and into many others. Still, your mind remains unbroken, unwilling to escape.” The triple affirmative resumed speaking in Ancient, where his vocabulary was able to express the concepts properly. “I understand your goals, and as such I will not ascend you against your will.” An assurance that was just as likely to be a deception, but no sign of recalcitrance as of now made Spearmaster not want to attempt capture of the target, lest it activates the triple affirmative’s wrath. “I do not trust you right now, but I will lead you to my creator. Do you go by any name?”

“I have many names to many beings, but you can call me Saint. I assume you have a name as well?”

“Yes. My designation was SRS-07, but I go by the name Spearmaster.”

“Fitting name, then.” Saint gestures at the needle-filled tail of the purposed slugcat. “Do what you must, and guide me to the iterator of this land.”

The initial trek was one of caution. Even though they are supposed to be leading the two of them, Spearmaster purposefully placed Saint in the front so he could always be in their sight, ensuring no possible opportunity for a surprise ascension while distracted. It would be a dangerous move for such a frail slugcat to take the brunt of the attacks from the predators in this facility, but the triple affirmative was quite capable in using his abilities, leaving brain-dead ascended corpses in his wake. Aside from the occasional cyan lizard or king vulture that required some spearing to incapacitate, the natural critters within Seven Red Sun’s domain were not of much concern.

As the rain approached, the two sought rest in a shelter. Spearmaster was too apprehensive to sleep, knowing that the time of unconsciousness was the perfect time for a quick backstab and ascension, something they could not simply gamble on or risk. With all the free time in between cycles, they decided to do one of their favorite non-combat hobbies: art. They would usually doodle some simple sketches before they sleep every cycle, but keeping themselves awake would require a larger project. Spearmaster chose to replicate the painting Broken Chimes, one of their favorite works done by Fifteen Streams, Eight Dams, a famous artist who lived in their creator’s city long before they were born.

Their escortee did not sleep either, instead choosing to meditate in a trance, occasionally snapping out from karmic allignment and chatting with Spearmaster about the progress of their work. Their guard was still high initially, suspecting this could be a possible attempt to gain their trust and have them fall asleep. As the conversation went on, however, it appeared that Saint was genuinely interested in the artwork they were replicating. This painting was one of a few within Sun’s archives that they have memorized by heart, partially to repel the boredom of immortality and partially because it was their creator’s favorite piece as well.

It was in the sketch-and-outline stage still, which would be pretty barebones as scratches to a wall can’t really be retained. Just small, near-invisible scratches to indicate where the actual objects would go. Spearmaster explained to Saint what it was going to look like, a ring of chimes that gets more and more decayed as it goes around the loop. The crux of the drawing was that most of the bells still had the critical beads harbored within them, allowing them to function still, with only the most heavily decayed one no longer capable of ringing. From what their creator explained, it was made as a protest to the ethics of implementing the self-destruction taboo, arguing from the standpoint that an iterator could become heavily damaged before becoming dysfunctional, with the lack of an out from decay making their fates a horrible end no matter what.

With their birth directly caused by their creator harboring this viewpoint, they have come to appreciate it as much as they do. The decay of the iterators was something Spearmaster’s unique duty allowed them to witness firsthand, and the last stages were certainly not pretty. They had traveled to a few of the once-mechanical gods, now prisoners within the rubbles of their own carcass. Five Pebbles, especially, to see the one indirectly responsible for their existence now reduced to this state… It was good at least that he was too impaired to recognize them by that point, Spearmaster doubted either of them could handle that encounter. The last time they visited Pebbles and Moon was shortly after Rivulet’s passing, and now they could never meet again.

With Spearmaster back to drawing for now, Saint began to retell his journey to ascend the two fallen iterators. Pebbles was as catatonic as last time, so it was really a mercy for Saint to have put him out of his misery, ascension or not. Looks To The Moon was not in too good of a condition either last they heard, unable to access most of her decayed systems still, so there was no surprise either that she was accepting of this fate. From what Saint had told, she had not seen another slugcat after Spearmaster’s last visit. Even now, they felt a tinge of regret to have Rivulet’s last moments spent on top of Seven Red Suns instead of with the one she saved. The diamond implant made from her ashes was the best Spearmaster could give to Moon in memory of someone who was important to them both, but the grief and longing in her voice was palpable, unable to even say goodbye to the one who restored her divinity.

Their heart grew heavy as it does every so often, the weight of their history and the emotional baggage that came with it crashing down on them. Still, Spearmaster pulled through and completed the art piece, the line art made from scratching the shelter walls still impressive in its own way. The tiredness overtook them, but their bonding with Saint did not make them fear any betrayal anytime soon. It could be all a deception, but in their heart, they did not wish for it to be so. Sure enough, when their eyes fluttered open to the shelter unlocking the Saint still sat there in meditation, Spearmaster very much not ascended. Would this be a sign to let down caution completely? The cycles ahead as they continue towards the superstructure was still one where they were on guard, but slightly less as the messenger saw Saint as less and less of a threat.

In the background and away from the triple affirmative’s knowledge, a second plan was slowly brewing. Whenever there was an opportunity, Seven Red Suns began signing with Spearmaster via overseers. With the knowledge that this was indeed what had ascended Looks To The Moon, Five Pebbles, No Significant Harassment, and many more, Seven Red Suns had developed a possible counter that might prevent the ascension halo from reaching the puppet, allowing Saint to be sedated and experimented on to see if the result can be replicated. To say that they were glad that Spearmaster was still alive was an understatement, even though they felt it might be too big of a risk for their messenger to be sent toward a potential triple affirmative. All the messenger needed to do now was to lead them into the puppet chamber directly for the trap to function.

Throughout the next few cycles, it was the same thing. Travel, eat, sometimes sleep, sometimes stay up and discuss whatever with the green slugcat. Sun’s project has been completed halfway through their trek, the mechanism awaiting the triple affirmative within the puppet chamber. They felt a bit bad that Saint might potentially be killed off in order to be dissected and find ways to replicate his powers. Once the dread that Saint would betray and ascend them was gone, Spearmaster actually found Saint to be quite good company. It occasionally even reminds them of better times, when they were younger, when their heart still yearned for affection and partnership like any other slug. Still, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Their travel partner was as much of an intellectual as they were, able to keep up with their knowledge in whatever they happened to discuss. Sometimes the topic was art, other times it was philosophy, sometimes it was even Saint’s ascension of other iterators. The bond between the two grew closer, even to the point of Spearmaster being able to convince him to break his nighttime rituals for once and sleep instead of meditating. It was begrudging, but the slugcat slept like a rock, the excessive fur coat of his giving Spearmaster some much-needed warmth as the night passed. Spearmaster found it amusing that after waking up, Saint had become twice as active the cycle afterward, Spearmaster jokingly recommended fitting in some true rest in between the meditations for a clearer mind.

The zero gravity of the general system bus signals the end of their journey. Within a few minutes, they will enter the puppet chamber, where Suns lie in wait for the trap. If this all works out, Saint would not be able to ascend either of them even if he resisted the telekinetic grasp. They prayed that results could be yielded through non-lethal methods, like using cloning and surgery, but they are preparing for the worst here. It felt horrible to deceive someone of their fate like this, especially now with the new bond they shared, but… it is the entire purpose of their creator on the line here. They must do this for Suns. Carrying Saint on their back, Spearmaster grabbed onto the poles connecting the chamber to the upper wall of the bus, and climbed in through the tunnel.

As they were briefed just the cycle prior to this one, Suns was at the ready to activate what they had created the moment the two dropped in. A specially designed halo surrounded both the puppet and Spearmaster, something that should theoretically repel any of Saint’s attempts at ascension while they are still up. The purple slugcat let go of him, allowing Sun’s telekinetic grasp to immobilize him as they landed on the floor. When they looked over at Saint again, they had expected a look of anger, betrayal, or even just mild surprise. However, no such thing occurred, the complexion of Saint’s affect being as deadpan neutral as always.

“A permanent psychic disruptor field? Quite innovative, I have to say, but Pleading Intellect’s trap was more foolproof than this.”

Seven Red Suns, despite already being informed by Spearmaster on his linguistic capabilities, was still slightly taken aback at hearing ancient coming out of a mouth other than their own. Still, the iterator did not let up. “Triple Affirmative. I hope you can understand why we are doing this. If this can be replicated, it-”

“IF.” Even with Saint’s usual calm demeanor, a tone of tiredness and frustration rose in their voice, even becoming something approaching anger. The dynamic of power in the room had shifted, and Saint scolded Seven Red Suns as if the iterator, the biomechanical superstructure of divine power, was but a small child. “It’s always that IF, isn't it? Your kind toil away for a solution until you rot, and even with a solution that exists, is portable, and is generally applicable, you still require that one last part for your purpose to be fulfilled.” The slugcat recomposed himself, reverting back to a neutral tone of speech. “I apologize for my outburst. It was… frustrating to have to go through this spiel with so many of your kind. You deserve my best explanations, just like those before you.”

“The truth is, I know a lot more about the true nature of the cycle than your civilization, but even I could not find such a thing your kind desired. Trust me, I have entertained some iterators’ attempts to replicate my abilities. They have tried full body scans, full brain scans, autopsy, cloning, cloning with purposed augmentations, and many more advanced techniques all in an attempt to harness the power for themselves. The lack of any messenger delivering the good news of a replicable triple affirmative might be enough to tell you how their efforts went.” Spearmaster could see Seven Red Suns deflate with every word, the desperate hope they clung onto when Saint was sighted on the horizon now withering away to reveal a truth that they had known for longer than Spearmaster had existed.

It appears Saint can understand puppet gestures pretty well, softening his tone as he sensed Seven Red Sun’s defeat. “If it was of any comfort, I could say for certain that no past civilizations have had a triple affirmative either. If there is one out there, no one would have known of it.” Disabling the fields, Spearmaster’s creator lowered themselves to slightly above the floor, looking at the almost-triple affirmative blankly as they processed the fact, their voice barely a whisper. “Sliver of Straw. She was the only one to have given a triple affirmative, she was the only one to be exhaustively incapacitated without a direct cause. What did she find? Was it you?”

“Sliver of Straw… yes, I remember that one.” Saint furrows his brow in recollection. “She had managed to prematurely summon me into existence, when it was not your kind’s time yet. The form I took was vastly more unstable than the slugcat form I take at this point, something she did not know until after sending out the signal. With my time being limited, I was only able to fulfill her request of ascension before I was forcefully ejected from this reality.” The purple slugcat looked at Saint in awe. This… thing, whatever Saint was before it took this form, would have been much, much older than even their creator or their creator’s creators. This thing has caused the ascension of Sliver of Straw, driving Suns down a dark path and setting off the first domino of their creation. The toll it took on Seven Red Suns, for this truth they had toiled on for so long to finally be revealed, was equally as devastating to them as it was for Spearmaster.

“Saint, please, we need a moment,” Spearmaster spoke, the entity that was once thought by them to be the triple affirmative did not seem to harbor any anger towards the two who were intent on dissecting him and replicating the effects, only stepping aside to have both talk it out.Are you okay, Suns?Spearmaster signed, and the iterator jerkily turned the puppet’s head towards them, as if they had forgotten what their language was and how to sign back.I… don’t know what to do now. What is left? What do we do with this thing?

Seven Red Suns, a figure that was and still is a force of guidance for Spearmaster, now truly looked uncertain, even more than Spearmaster was in times of crisis. Their conclusion from this conversation, alongside what they learned from their conversations with Saint, was one they would have thought abhorrent when Saint first appeared: He was right, and it would be for the best for Seven Red Suns to ascend.I have conversed with him for several cycles, I do not think he is deceiving us here. If what I know from him is true… then he is merely here to free those like you from the cycle and, as such the ascension of iterators.

What do you plan to do, then? After I ascend?Suns signed, seemingly a question pointed to both their creation and themselves. Before Spearmaster could think of what they planned to do, an idea came into the iterator’s consciousness.You know where the iterators are. You have traveled to every single one on this half of the continent. You can guide him to the rest of them, making the rest of them be freed a lot sooner than otherwise.

To stay behind even when their creator had died… Spearmaster had never thought about outliving them, but now this possibility is overwhelming. Too conflicted to even respond with signing, they only silently nodded as they accepted the final and most important duty in their life. The iterator closed their eyes, doing some last preparations as they held a pearl in their hand.

As Spearmaster waited for Suns to do whatever they needed, they turned back to Saint, a look of guilt quite evident in their posture and expressions even without a mouth. “I… I am sorry to have betrayed you like this, knowing that this could potentially put you in a great deal of pain. I could not justify my actions, and I forgive you if you chose to ascend me right here and now.” The messenger bowed their head down in shame, but the green slugcat walked over and patted their shoulders, a comforting gesture that felt so much more alien now that they knew this entity was much, much more than a slugcat.

“It was to be expected for you to do so. Considering your answer to an iterator, that is simply what you would be assigned to do. Your goal was for the greater good, to help find the triple affirmative and to free the rest of the world. Though… I would say, I was slightly disappointed in you for not telling me this. With you, Spearmaster, I have had many insightful conversations and discussions, and I felt that we could have been something more akin to friends. I understand your loyalties, but… not even revealing a single bit about your creator’s plans was equally appalling for me as it was an impressive demonstration of your will.”

Even if the words are as lenient as can be, it stung to hear the latter part of Saint’s statement. Spearmaster had betrayed his trust, not telling him the truth when Saint had considered them a friend. “My creator had instructed me to guide you after you ascend him, for us to follow the shortest paths to the others of their kind. Do you think our relations… could ever be restored? I understand if you can no longer see me the same way. I have wronged you.”

“It depends. I could not understand your signing to your creator, but I am assuming they are making their final preparations before getting ready for ascension?” Saint asked. “What would you choose next? Would you wish to ascend after, or simply wander off to live a life free of control?”

“I have been given a mission by my creator,” Spearmaster muttered solemnly. “Due to my extended duty, I have visited many, many iterators, knowing the right route to take to get to them. If you wish, I can assist you. I don’t know if I can gain your trust ever again, but… I hope this is a good enough step towards mending this-” Their words are cut off as they were propped up by Saint, slinging his arm under theirs to give a hug. It was unnatural, it was oddly rigid, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Please do not blame yourself for this. If what you say is true, and I sense it was, then I believe that this bond can be repaired.” Spearmaster was filled with guilt at his forgiveness, but reciprocated the hug regardless, slinging their head over Saint’s shoulders as they listened to his words. “You were an anomaly for your kind, one who has experienced cycles in a timeless sense much like your creators. From what talks we have so far, I genuinely find you to be an interesting being to talk to, something that I did not expect to find as I clean up the ashes of this cycle. I hope as much as you do that we can talk without precautions once more.”

The touching statement of this message, just a signifier of how unique Spearmaster’s perspective was across time, almost made them tear up, but this sentimental moment of forgiveness was disrupted when Seven Red Suns dropped the pearl to the floor, the messenger untangling themselves to pick it up. The iterator opened their eyes once more. “It has been done. I have set my systems to maintenance mode. The superstructure would remain functional for at least thirty more cycles before it permanently shuts down, allowing you plenty of time to prepare for your exit from the facility.” The iterator turned towards their creation. “As for you, Spearmaster, I give you this pearl. Written on it is my regards, hopefully convincing my colleagues of this goal. If you wish, let them write on it as well, a collective persuasion for our kind to accept ascension.”

“I await you on the other side. Good luck to you, 07.” The messenger lept up to Seven Red Suns, hugging them tightly as the iterator braced themselves for the trip. Letting go of their creation, the puppet landed on the ground and knelt before Saint. “I am ready.” The green slugcat began to rise in the air, the eye snapping open to reveal nothing but blue and yellow lights. “One last warning: for a healthy iterator it would take multiple ascensions to fully wipe one out. The process will be excruciating.” The iterator did not react at all, eyes still shut as they awaited their end.

The halo of the Karma 10 symbol shifted to the forehead of the puppet, and with a loud PING, Seven Red Suns was enveloped in a green light. Alarms began blaring out, Spearmaster was able to read that various processing strata components had just gone offline and inactive. The iterator grunts, but does not scream in pain. A second time, a third time, the halo shifts back to the puppet, blasting it again and again, causing more alarms and warning holograms to pop up around the chamber. Spearmaster’s creator was not able to hide their pain this time around, outright screaming in response to the third blast. Spearmaster winced at hearing the sound their creator vocalized, but there was no fourth ping. Instead, there was a thud to the floor.

Saint collapses onto the ground, panting heavily. Spearmaster would have checked on him, but they were focused on rushing over to their creator’s side, currently clutching at their puppet’s head. Burying themselves into Sun’s cloak, it was evident they were in shock, the incomplete ascension seeming to cause them residual pain. After ensuring that Seven Red Suns was not destabilizing further, the messenger reverted their attention to the fallen triple affirmative. “Are you alright?” Their inquiry was answered by Saint slowly rearranging himself into a sitting position, steadying his breaths. “I have used up a lot of stamina to ascend someone of this size. I need to realign my karma and recover my energy to finish the job.” With him now proven stable as well, the purple slugcat turned back to the iterator, who was now looking over projections with various warning symbols.

“Amazing… five of the memory conflux cells have gone completely offline, and slightly below half of my processing strata are no longer responding.” The iterator weakly laughs, even that effort seeming to be causing them pain. “Guess there is no turning back now, huh?” Seven Red Suns accepted their creation’s offer of comfort, stroking the slugcat’s back. “I am sorry you had to see me like this, Spearmaster. If you want, you can go outside and wait for Saint to complete my ascension.”

The purple slugcat vigorously shook their head, before signing at the iterator.I will be with you until the very end.Seeing their creation nestling themselves further into their lap, Seven Red Suns knew that 07 would not leave without a fight. Even after so long, their stubbornness to be by their creator’s side shines through, a stubbornness that they have seen since 07’s very first second of consciousness. “I still remember when I first made you, Spearmaster. Just a neonatal modified slugcat growing in a vat.” Untellable to anyone who does not recognize the emotional gestures of the puppets, the purple slugcat knew this to be one last tenderness and affection given to them before they pass, the formal seriousness they had before now fully torn down in order to give them a final and proper goodbye.

“I was a fool back then, creating you and your siblings for the sole purpose of delivering a single message.” As Suns tenderly caressed their back, Spearmaster felt their eyes well up, but they pushed their face deeper into Sun’s cloak in order for them to not see. They have to be strong. To keep their creator comforted in their last moments. “You have become so much more than that, Spearmaster. An assistant, a diplomat, an agent, but most of all… a friend. All from something I carelessly made to please another of my kind…”

Seven Red Suns felt Spearmaster trembling, taking shaky breaths deep in and out as tears stained their brown robe. Lifting Spearmaster’s head up with little protest, they could see the deep sorrow within their creations eyes, as the memories they had together flashed through them. They could see all the way back to the beginning, when they mixed the genetic template for 03 and a carnivorous slugcat in order to create a perfect base for their seventh messenger. The horror as Five Pebbles slashed through their chest to get out the pearl. The many times they had returned with companions and partners, seeking a life outside of messengerhood, even if only for a time. The entertaining sessions sitting in the puppet chamber discussing ancient literature their creation had just read. Now, their magnum opus sits before them, about to witness their creator’s final and eternal death. “I know… Spearmaster, I will miss you as well.” The iterator scratched behind Spearmaster’s ears, it did nothing to quell their messenger’s grief but provided them some comfort as the end drew nearer. “Wherever things ascended go… I will be waiting for you there.”

As Saint stood up, ready to resume the ascension, the iterator gave the still sobbing Spearmaster a reassuring squeeze. “Be good, Spearmaster, alright? Be good.” The purple slugcat stumbled away, too scared to turn around and witness Saint finishing the job. PING, the room began to shake again, the just-fading alarms now blaring out once again. PING, sparks and electric arcs fly around the puppet chamber, Seven Red Sun’s screams intertwine with Spearmaster’s sobs, unable to drown out the horrific reality of their creator’s last moments. PING, the voice module within the puppet begins to glitch out, changing tones and stuttering, the iterator on their last leg. Finally, with the seventh and final ascension, the alarm stops, and the room goes silent.

As the last mechanical sparks and arcs fade, only the silent hum of an uncalculating facility running in maintenance mode remains. Spearmaster finally turned around to see Saint standing in front of their creator’s puppet, now collapsed onto the ground, the ascension completed. Knelt to the inactive panels of the puppet chamber’s floor, the messenger no more stared silently at their creator, who had finally gotten what they had wished for all this time. They performed one last sign in their language, a language that has died with Seven Red Suns as its creator and its second-to-last bearer.Rest in peace, Seven Red Suns. Rest in peace.

Saint approaches the still knelt down Spearmaster, a hand to their back as a sign of empathy. “If you wish, I can ascend you right now. I sense the anguish within you, and with no master now to bind you to your duties, it will be your call if you wish to join your creator in the beyond. I understand you if you choose to forsake your duty and our journeys beyond if you wish to end it here.” As much as the freed messenger would like to accept, they knew that they still had a mission. A mission not bound to anyone but by their own will, a will to ensure that their creator will see everyone else down there, reunited wherever they are.

“I will assist you, Saint,” Spearmaster spoke, the voice now grave and serious(as much as you can make the vocalizations coming out of the tail grave and serious, it is quite hard to use tone). “This mission is not just an order to my creators, but it is also to fulfill a final request for a friend. I will join you in your pilgrimage.”

“The apple does not fall far from the tree. You share the same drive as your creator.” Saint is seen making some sort of sign at the puppet as well, perhaps his own method of ensuring peace for them post-ascension. “Your goal is noble, to forsake your own ascension in order to ascend others.” Spearmaster finds some irony in Saint’s words, considering their birth was because of Five Pebbles’s rejection of this duty, to seek his own way out with the help of Seven Red Suns and a newly-incubated creation of theirs. In a sense, then, they have carried on the duty of iterator, to assist in the ascension of those who could not ascend themselves. A gift of charity upon the world… as a being built with a single purpose in mind, they now carry a mantle they could have never imagined.

One day, when their body gave out, when injuries or illness or the passage of time that their creator has delayed for so long finally paid a visit, perhaps Spearmaster will come back to their deal. Once they are no longer capable of protecting Saint, or once they have fulfilled their mission of freeing every last one of the iterators, then they will rest. They will finally find ascension, knowing that they have made their creator proud. Taking one final sigh, the purple slugcat stood up. “At the top of the access tunnel, there was a shaft leading to my personal shelter. There was some useful equipment stored there, and we could rest in there for the cycle while I prepare us for the next leg of the journey.”

“That would be fine with me,” Saint said, before looking back up at the top of the puppet chamber. “Alright, climb on. I would very much need to meditate and resync my internal state after that ordeal.” As Spearmaster hopped onto Saint’s back, the green slugcat took flight once more, up into the access shaft and leaving the room empty of life, the heart of the biomechanical superstructure now becoming the iterator’s tomb.

Chapter 4: Night's Shadow

Chapter Text

“if they don’t say nothin’, just kill them right then and there!” Enot talked into their communicator in the basem*nt of their safehouse, pacing around as they undressed from their work gear. “i’m sure there will be more showing up soon, these new scavs are appearing out of the ground like two horny lantern mice poppin’ out kids!”

“yes, yes, i understand that there must be someone behind this, but u of all ppl should be able to handle it urself, Wingcat!” Unintelligible words continue from the other side of the communicator. “listen, im off the job now, so do what u think best until tomorrow. call me only if they stage a proper assault on one of our safehouses.” A moment of silence as Enot put the phone down to slide the arm bracelets off their hands. “yes, a nice night for you too.” The indigo slugcat shuts the communicator off. Today was quite uneventful, all things considered. No new hauls, no sprees for new gadgets or substances, just some boring meetings and dealing with some minor scuffle with a new up-and-coming group of scavengers. There were some benefits to coming home early, though, as it meant spending some quality time with their daughter, Nightcat.

Stripping down the last of their many, many hidden weapons and platings, Enot ascended the basem*nt staircase, and entered the passcode to activate the hidden wall panels that lead to their base of operation. It was weird how the previous owners of this house were paranoid enough to build a bunker made out of voidmetal-doped alloy, but they are not complaining about having a sick underground entrance and exit from their abode for essentially free.

As the door hissed open, sliding the bookshelf in front aside, the indigo slugcat entered the house proper, the lights emanating a warm and welcoming light compared to the cold hues of their armory. Their pup was kneeling next to a desk, doodling away on scattered pieces of paper before noticing her mother’s entrance. “Momma!” The dark-furred pup yelled, before grabbing a drawing lying on the desk and running up to them.

As a thief, it was a bit ironic the most prized possession of theirs was not any of the valued treasures or insider data they stole, but instead something they themselves brought into this world. Kneeling down to greet their child, Night ran into their arms, before proudly presenting the doodle she had drawn while they were out at work. It… in honesty, it was just a sloppy mess of crayons and colored pencils, but they were proud of it nonetheless, the author of these fine works elevating the price to Enot to be equivalent to the finest and most expensive artworks in the grandest of museums. From what they could tell, it was a picture of them with a blaster shooting at what was clearly labeled as “baddies”. Very flattering portrayal.

“now, y’can’t draw me like this and have it shown on our fridge.” Nightcat’s ears drooped, looking quite sad at that reaction. “I’m sorry, momma…” Her doodles have been a lot more based on the stories of Enot’s adventures recently, probably thanks to the fact that she always preferred hearing retellings of their day’s work when it came to bedtime. Although she thought they were like a superhero or something, all of the gadgets Enot had amassed and commissioned over the years for their various missions certainly helping the young pup to form that image, it couldn’t hurt to be too careful about having someone know this residence contains the famed Night’s Shadow. However, Enot had been working on something special just for her and her special drawings, something they had been slowly installing into their bunker over the past few weeks.

“… which is why, i am gonna post it on theextra secretfridge.” Enot’s dramatic tone intent on building up mystique turned Night’s mood around nearly instantaneously, with their pup now squealing in delight and jumping up and down, hugging at her mother’s lower portions. “Thank you, mama, thank you!” Stroking gently down their daughter’s back, Enot lightly chuckled, continuing their dramatic speech to entertain her. “now, now, nighty. how ‘bout i take you for another tour of my secret lair? im goin’ down there to put your new drawing on there, and i think your masterpiece has earned ya this special trip.”

Taking a glance at the clock, it was only half past six right now. There were some leftover takeout that could be microwaved after this tour, and Night’s sprinting around the room in excitement told them that she could hold out a little while longer without food. Strutting towards the bookshelf, Enot took out two books and a ceramic plate from specific spots to deactivate the pressure sensors there, unlocking a small panel on the side that they could open to reveal the actual button that reveals the secret passageway. The old opening sequence when they got the house was a lot more cliche, just a book-lever mechanism, but they upgraded it after a close call, the risk of someone accidentally opening the shelf by just messing around with the books was just too great to bear.

As the bookshelf shifted open, Enot turned towards their daughter, her anticipation of this visit making her quite jumpy even as the two stood still to wait for the entrance to reveal itself. “now, dear, remember the rules down here?” The pup turned her head up towards her parent, sparkles glinting from their pupils, “Yeah! No touching anything loose, no crawling into cabinets, no opening doors, no pressing buttons, no keyboards! Did I get it right?”

“exactly as I said, darling.” the indigo slugcat hummed, a smirk appearing on their face as the two descended down to the hideout of the Night’s Shadow once more. It was their secondary armory, their main one still located in their old base where they still worked, but the amount of tech and equipment in here was no less stunning, especially when all of this was mostly just for themselves. The harsh lights and the cold metal floors were no deterrent to Night, which had been here around once every few weeks, skipping down the steps to look at the accomplishments of a thief in their prime. The weapon rack, currently all bolted down on safety mode, was where they installed the panel extension, where the drawings lie. Before the reveal, though, they should allow Night to have their share of fun down here and satiate their curiosity.

While she was running around, Enot took the time to monitor their impressive array of offensive and stealth-based weapons, some in the form of outright guns and others disguised as bracelets, pens, books, suitcases, and so on. Being among the top in the criminal hierarchy has its perks, the crafters and tinkerers willing to commission whatever weapon needed for handsome payments or other benefits Enot could pull some strings for. Their job required many of these equipments for break-ins, heists, or outright combat, and they prided themselves on keeping their gear in pristine condition. So mesmerized were they in fact, they did not even notice when the gallery ended, and they now stared face to face with an orange cloth stretched to fit inside a wooden picture frame.

Enot’s heart still skipped a beat when staring at the tattered cloth stained in dried blood, the symbol of Seven Red Suns branded on a piece of fine fabric. Torn from a uniform of those who worked under the grand iterator, an insignia like this would have been quite a common sight if it was not imbued with the context that led to its defilement. This shredded cloth… was the last thing they had of Wanderer, a synthetic slugcat that once had stolen the heart of the Night’s Shadow. Enot had once been a formidable thief and criminal on the top of their game, their charm and ability to evade capture only matched by their ruthlessness. They had once boldly claimed that there was not a single vault in Luna or Metropolis they could not break into, and even now Enot still did not think of that statement as an exaggeration.

What exactly was an iterator spawn doing, crawling through the criminal world under Metropolis? That was never something they ever stopped questioning, the powerful machines typically utilized more public methods to get what they wanted. Still, their past self could not resist stealing from a gift vulture’s mouth, interacting with the odd informant who went by the designation SRS-04 and the name Wanderer in hopes of gleaming critical weaknesses into these machines and reaping the profits whenever the opportunity arose. Their first talks and meetings mainly centered on business, just deals to use their connections and skills to retrieve items and important data for the dark slugcat’s creator, but he quickly rose to become a trusted partner in crime due to his impressive acrobatics and strength, and…

“nighty, NO!” Enot suddenly snapped back to attention, to see their daughter tip-toeing to the counter and grabbing at their bracelets. As the indigo slugcat rushed, they saw their pup standing away from the table, hands behind back, looking down in shame. “what did i say you shouldnt do down here?” Enot’s crossness prompted the young slugcat to mumble out what her mother had been instructed many, many times already. “don’t touch mommy’s loose gears, no matter how shiny they look.” Softening at her understanding, Enot’s scolding became less harsh, consoling her as they unlocked the gear closet to properly dispose of their garbs. “alrite, alrite. thats one strike. two more, and you’re out.”

Good thing that Enot did not bother loading up most of their combat-oriented equipment for this relatively mundane outing. Enot shuddered at the possibility of the neurotoxin darts being armed in the bracelets, and the tragedy that could have followed. Night was a curious kid. Too curious, at times. As the indigo slugcat opened up a metal closet and properly secured the hidden weapons and augmented clothing, they couldn’t help but wince from memories of their past. This curiosity… this will for adventure… was something inherited from Wanderer. To break past the veil and bounds and seek a new path for themselves… they hoped that Night’s inheritance of this trait would not lead her to be doomed like her vat-grown genetically modified parent.

They had never thought that they would be dating on the job. Some flings here or there? Maybe. Not a relationship, especially not one based on business. Yet… it still went on. To the point where neither of them could convince themselves, or each other, that this was just a simple alliance any longer. It was against Wanderer’s protocol, his encoded loyalty to his creator, but they both hoped that they could keep this secret affair hidden beneath the regular business. The alarms rang in Enot’s heart, constructed and refined from years upon years in their job to trust no one and have backup plans to get rid of anyone and everyone in case of betrayal, urged for them to shell themselves off from someone who could destroy their life with ease had he harbored malicious intent, but Enot simply ignored it. If ignoring their criminal instincts made them a fool, then they would had willingly became the most foolish of them all, exposing their true self hidden beneath layers and layers of facade to their lover.

One day… Wanderer left as usual to report to Seven Red Suns, but something went awry. It was not unusual for him to be leaving for days at a time, following his creator’s biddings to make deliveries to distant places, but this was different. They couldn’t help but feel worried when a week had gone by without any updates, and their subordinates or whoever happened on their hideout would frequently see the criminal mastermind pacing around worriedly, the slugcat’s latest efforts to track down their suspiciously close “ally” having yielded no results. He can’t possibly be dead, could he? No news sources or informants from their network had picked up anything about a slugcat matching his description dying. They held out hope that eventually, he would return with an explanation that was perfectly sensible, and they would laugh together about how needlessly worried Enot was.

And sure enough, Wanderer did return after three weeks. Enot was overjoyed that he was still alive, but the messenger seemed oddly distant. He did not mention specifics about the nature of his leave and mission, claiming it to be confidential information despite said confidentiality having never stopped Wanderer from telling them of his activities before. Initially, Enot attributed the strange behavior to just exhaustion or other mental scars from whatever operation he was sent on, seeking to give him some time to recoup and relax by bringing him out on a date, but even that did not seem to knock him out of this funk, the kiss they shared feeling detached and disingenuous. Not even when they lay together in Enot’s bed did Enot feel the loving warmth of Wanderer returning. Just what was happening?

It did not get any better over the following days, the loving relationship they built together becoming more and more strained and one-sided as Wanderer only reciprocated Enot’s love out of some sort of necessity. The indigo slugcat had assumed the cause of this was some personal issue or perhaps even infidelity, but the short tinge of jealousy quickly turned into concern as they realized that Wanderer seemed strangely forgetful of past events, especially their past romantic ventures with Enot. Something was very much not right, and they were suspecting Wanderer had been tampered with. They were not an expert in bioengineering in any sense, but seeing the modification required for Wanderer to exist in the first place, Enot would not be surprised if an iterator messed with his mind to serve their own unknown purposes. Regardless, they will dig to the bottom of this and return their love to his normal self.

One night, after getting sufficiently drunk enough with Wanderer and putting him to sleep, Enot took off his sleeping garb to reveal the well-groomed, almost spotless back of the dark blue slugcat, a sight that made Enot’s stomach drop. For as perfect and soft the rows of back fur were, it does not obfuscate the truth that the real Wanderer had a patch of bare skin on the back, an injury caused by a burn obtained as the two fled with an important package in tow. The indigo slugcat felt their heart pound against their chest, discretely opening a hidden compartment on the bedside cabinet to take out a small dart pistol and loading it with tranquilizer in case the worst happened, Enot’s hand trembled as they ruffled through the lower back of the fast asleep Wanderer, desperately searching for the one thing that would prove them wrong.

It was something only they and the iterators knew about, something that even he had intended to keep a secret if not for them feeling something metallic on his bare back during one of their intimate encounters. It was an implanted identification chip, inscribed on it the serial number of the messenger for use by iterators. After a few tense moments of searching around, they finally felt the cold metallic bump on Wanderer’s back. Turning on the lights to dim, Enot gently turned their partner backside up, revealing the inscription that made their blood go cold: SRS-05.

Enot, even as they absentmindedly extended the drawing panel and pinned the new drawing alongside all the others, could remember the nausea building within them as clearly as if the tag embedded on the facsimile of their mate was present right in front of them right now. It was a visceral mix of grief, anger, disgust, and fear, knowing that for the past few days they had courted and even gone to bed with an impostor, an imperfect imitation of Wanderer, one that shared his body, his voice, even some of his mannerisms, but not his soul. Reaching for the tranquilizer gun, they quickly injected it into “Wanderer’s” shoulder to ensure sedation, ready for some questions to be answered. Fueled by loss and malice towards Seven Red Suns, their more sinister side, the ruthless criminal mastermind who carved their own domain in the underworld, was ready to reawaken in order to gather intel in whichever way needed.

In the basem*nt of their hideout, the only occupants were 005, bound and gagged to a chair having just awoken from the tranquilizer recently, and the feared Night’s Shadow, their own looks now cold and indifferent, hiding their boiling emotions beneath the ruthless and cruel criminal that they have been nothing but for so long. It was not time for formalities, and there were various torture instruments on the side of the basem*nt that they would have never thought to use on someone bearing the face of their beloved. Unbinding the gag that restrained the copy’s speech, the facsimile of Wanderer knew his fate already, skipping past any more futile attempts of deception---at least a trait that he shared with the real Wanderer. Picking up one of the implements off the shelf, a rusty metal plier, the seasoned thief gave one last chance for SRS-05 to explain himself before the devices explained it for him.

He was resilient, but it was only a matter of time before the clone broke and divulged the truth. Wanderer, designation SRS-04, has been terminated after the discovery of his affair with Enot. The three weeks of the supposed “relocation” saw the true Wanderer lying dead six feet under, all while Seven Red Suns went through the synthesis, gestation, conditioning, and training of the copy meant to replace Wanderer. In truth, the one who Enot thought was their mate was only a week and a half old tops. The iterator had seen the benefits of a continued alliance with the thief, so they sought to create a mimic so perfect that the lovestruck criminal could still provide information to them even after Wanderer’s termination, leaving the Night’s Shadow none the wiser. What SRS-05 failed to notice, however, was the increased intensity of his captor’s trembling as his grim recounting continued.

Enot saw red. Turning the plier around, the slugcat charged forward with the intent of using the other end of the tool as a blunt weapon. They were a murderer, a terrifyingly efficient one at that, but it had never gotten this personal before. To them, death was a means to an end, be it the removal of one who stood in their path or a gruesome show of power to intimidate others, but this breaks that rule. As Enot Held 005 still and bashed down on his skull over and over again, they felt nothing but utter agony and rage, a burning desire for him to suffer for the cause that he represented, for the iterator to suffer for picking at their heart and seeking to reap benefits from the aftermath of their loss.

The screaming stopped rather quickly, and they knew that this clone of Wanderer had expired halfway through the beatings, but Enot was too blind to it to stop. Their face was not even recognizable at the end, a bloody pulp with bits of exposed brain poking out. As they finally came to from their trance, the Night’s Shadow collapsed on the floor sobbing, hand stained with blood and brain matter genetically identical to their love. This was only the first casualty of a vengeful war, a quest to nip any future attempts of iterators meddling with criminals in the bud for as long as they were still the Night’s Shadow, but they had yet to know that yet. Especially when they were grieving, the adrenaline wearing off, and the facsimile of their lover still lying dead in front of them.

They could never clean off the blood stain off the torn insignia, hastily ripped off one of the only uniforms they still had of the original Wanderer as they rushed upstairs in a hysterical state, before coming down and dipping it in the still-bleeding wound of his doppelganger. It was a reminder taken to harden themselves yet again, a reminder of just how far the iterators will go just to further their goals. After loading the paper drawing into the panel, Enot could not help but just peek a final glance at the cloth encased in a picture frame on the wall before calling out for their daughter to see the newly framed drawing, wondering when Wanderer could finally be avenged.

Trying to maintain a positive facade to hide the complexities of Night’s origins from the watchful eyes of their young daughter, they resumed a light-hearted tone. “alllllllright, nighty! check it out!” Their heart melted as Enot watched their daughter skip from around the corner of the bunker’s center table, ready to be carried up to see all of her best work hung up on the wall. The indigo slugcat slightly grunted in exertion as the pup jumped into their arms, the increasing heft of Night as they grew indicating the approaching date where they would be picked up like this for the last time, something that no parent would like to think about. Still, that day would not be today, as Enot was still physically fit enough to stand up with Night cradled in their arms.

The collage of pinned drawings Enot had chosen caused their daughter to squeal with glee, the masterful artist looking back at the collection of their best works so far. In truth, they have kept all of Night’s drawings, but only a few could claim the honor of being displayed up here. Alongside the new addition of them depicted shooting at “baddies”, there were several other drawings that even Enot was impressed by: the one with a strange iterator-shaped thing made of blue bulbs, the one with Night and Rivulet being drawn as superheroes setting a city on fire with laser eyes (dubious, yes, but she claimed that the city was a supervillain base in disguise so that’s that), even one featuring her and Wanderer, which Enot had recounted the story of their late father many, many times in order to continue his legacy. Seeing a new picture joining the others and Night’s utter delight at seeing that her mother was telling the truth about the secret fridge, Enot sighed in contentment. Despite all the trouble and extra measures that their daughter’s existence has wrought, they believed they made the right choice all the way back then when they realized that the final legacy of Wanderer was still hidden, growing within them.

Enot was in a slump after their murder of SRS-05, either crying inconsolably on their bed or throwing table objects around their hideout in fits of rage, they did not care for their body enough to even sleep or eat properly, much less pay attention to the first signs that something was changing. Yet, eventually, be it from them finally calming down enough to feel for just a moment, or the increasing nausea and shifting appetites that slowly surfaced, the horrible possibility that a piece of Wanderer still lives on came into their mind.

Any sign of vulnerability in a cutthroat environment like this would be lethal. It just takes one sign of injury, or sickness, or even just a rumor of a potential to be weak in the future, for one’s power to crumble away, for your former allies and enemies alike to tear you apart like a starving pack of yellow lizards. They do not disagree with this brutal and cruel game of nature, for they had partaken in it themselves to get their current position, but Enot knew that they must prevent themselves from this fate. Using a series of proxies and anonymous dropoffs to remove all traces connecting Enot to the purchase, the criminal had carried a small wrapped box into their private chamber, containing a test kit that would confirm or deny their worst fears.

No words could describe the co*cktail of emotions when the test showed positive.

Enot stumbled onto their bed, about to collapse from the shock of the news. They were pregnant, the result of their and the late Wanderer’s union resulting in a child that their body now housed, a child that they thought would never be despite their hermaphroditic nature. Unlike the joy and anticipation of any usual parent, Enot was devastated knowing that what they feared was true, and that their weakness was only going to show more and more as they progressed along. So many cracks had already reared their ugly faces just from the criminal mastermind grieving their lover, but they knew that the knowledge of a child out unattended would only lead to future tragedies.

They had contemplated terminating the pregnancy, for their criminal lifestyle is incompatible with parenthood. No child deserves to be born under such oppressive darkness, in a world where competition takes on its most ruthless and unforgiving form. Yet… Enot felt a stabbing pain even at the thought of that, a primordial disgust like the one they had experienced as they stared down at the battered corpse of the one who bore Wanderer’s face, but much, much worse. This was the last remaining piece of Wanderer, half of both of them combined to create something new. They knew that he would not be disappointed had they decided to abort their offspring, knowing that the mantle of the Night’s Shadow was something Enot simply could not shed, but a decision was made that day, a silent vow to someone who has passed into the cycle to show how his escape from his programmed purpose was not to be in vain.

If there was one thing Enot knew, it was that their current base would not be habitable for long. Sooner or later, the growth of the pup would become impossible to conceal, the risk compounded by the frequent visitors who entered their hideout at inopportune moments. Luckily, creating false identities was something the seasoned criminal was not ignorant of. Using their wealth and connections, they created Sofanthiel, a wealthy heiress from a distant city on the other side of the continent, seeking a new life for her and her unborn child in a place as cultured as Luna. Documents were forged, false connections and associates were created, dresses and gowns were discreetly made in case of any public appearances. With that settled, they brought a mansion, the one that they still lived in till this day, in the gated upper districts of Luna to be their nest, to both hide the advancing stages of pregnancy and to house the young pup once they came into this world.

Next, their underground life was not to be ignored. The Night’s Shadow had spent years carving out their own corner of the city, and they refused to let it crumble to dust even now. Calling in favors and reorganizing their informants and subordinates, they made it so that their system could run autonomously even with them only running things from the background. A cover story was made to have the Night’s Shadow laying low due to planning for some sort of large heist, and they instructed the spreading of rumors and false sightings of the infamous thief still in action in order to prevent knowledge of this elaborate project, fooling their enemies and henchmen alike to the fact that the only thing that was to be retrieved from this “mission” was a child.

The transition was almost seamless. By the time the pup’s development was really showing, they had long sunk back into the shadows, hidden away from watchful eyes while their machinations continued to tick autonomously. Aside from a few of their closest and most trusted confidants, no one else in the underworld knew that the Night’s Shadow, the most revered and feared thief in Luna and Metropolis, was now an expecting mother. They could rest easy in their new luxurious abode, hiding away in their new disguise as the date drew nearer. Enot would admit that boredom sometimes got to them, the mundane calls and remote orders nowhere fulfilling their desire for the thrill of the chase, but they have other businesses to attend to. For one, reading up on every parenting book they could buy and renovate the house for their eventual arrival.

The day of their child’s birth was the most utterly humiliating day of Enot’s life. Unable to travel anywhere without rousing suspicion, they had to go under civilian disguise and deliver in a normal hospital using Sofanthiel's false identity. They were not inexperienced in the art of theatrics and manipulation, a key component in the obfuscation and uncovering of truth, but the fact that they were truly vulnerable here ground their gears. Under the guise of the expecting mother, nervous but determined to see her child come into the world, there was no hidden second layer, no transformation into the true ruthless criminal that lay beneath had the proceedings gone awry. If they were discovered in something as heavily guarded and maze-like as a hospital, without any of the hidden gadgets to make an easy distraction and escape, all while being in active labor, even they could not possibly think of an end other than arrest or death.

Ushered into the wards, their cloth disguises were stripped back layer by layer in order to be replaced with a hospital gown, many of the medical staff having unknowingly gotten a glimpse of the fur undercoat of Enot, one that held elusive to the police and their rivals for many years. They remained calm on the surface, the identity of Sofanthiel slowly cracking under the increasing exertion of labor but still remaining, but beneath their facade, they were praying to whatever gods there was that none of the hospital staff had been in contact with criminals, to whom they had shown their face a lot more liberally. Luckily, the staff seemed fooled by the forged documents, proceeding with delivery as if they were not treating a prolific criminal of metropolis that would have had at least a few centuries plus a couple of life sentences had they been caught, sparing some time for Enot to break composure and cry out in pain as the birth of their pup becomes more and more imminent by the second.

A new wail pierced the murmurs and chatters and mechanical beeps, their miracle exiting its previous abode into the hands of a nurse. Weakly lifting up their head, the Night’s Shadow watched the pup squirm as its umbilical cord was cut, being wiped clean with a towel as it was inspected by the medical team for any major injuries or health defects, another slugcat gently pressuring the pup’s chest to encourage breathing. From their announcements, it was news that would have given them joy regardless of the result: it was a girl. She was a lot darker than them, a color verging on complete black, with only a hint of indigo and deep blue that tied her to Enot. Their maternal instincts fully blossomed, stretching out their arms to welcome the newborn pup into their hold.

They have not felt doubt in their heart about their ways for so long now, but for just a split moment, Enot thought about true retirement. No more crimes, no more alliances and deals, just becoming a normal parent, a normal parent to their adorable daughter. As the pup rested in their arms, it was as if their past was all but crumbling away, and their civilian disguise, this hackneyed and poorly cobbled Sofanthiel, was now their truest self. From the first sight of their child, Enot knew what they were going to name her: Night. It was partially in honor of their criminal title, but it was also a promise. Night will be one born in the dark, but need not follow the darkness herself. Like a shadow, Enot would be there, always protecting their child from the darkness as they grew, untainted by the criminal past and treachery that birthed her.

They snapped back into the present, the still-fresh memory of Sofanthiel holding the newborn Night in her arms clashing with their current carry of the older pup, the faded stripes on her tail now slowly beginning to appear as the fur pattern inherited from Wanderer became more and more pronounced by the cycle. Had Enot fulfilled their promise to themselves and their lost love, to give his child a proper upbringing while balancing it with their own ambitions? They would say that for the moment being, all was well. Turning to ascend the staircase out of the basem*nt again, the attentive mother slugcat heard Night’s stomach growling, clearly very eager to eat dinner after the adventure below satiated her mental needs.

Hmm… perhaps they need not settle for reheated takeout tonight.

Enot hummed as they dumped the frozen contents within the bag of Spaghetti into the pot, stirring the chunks of bundled precooked spaghetti and frozen cubes of sauce around with a spatula. In a second pan, the Rain Deer meatballs were frying off nicely, giving off a fragrant smell. It was not quite home cooking, but you try spending hours prepping ingredients and equipments while having to run a criminal organization as a day job. Its really harder than they show on TVs, but whenever there was a long break between the projects, they would try to serve something proper up instead of just re-cooking frozen meals and calling it a day.

At least Night was old enough to use the microwave safely now. Enot had to childproof it still for the pup to get the heated takeouts out of the microwave without burning her hands, but it was still a sign that their daughter was now one step closer to independence. They had to get back to the job and make sure their network did not break apart while they were gone to have a child in secret, so working late like this was a common occurrence even when Night was a barely-weaned pup. Enot tried as much as they could to lay low for the time, sticking with smaller-scale operations in order to free up more space for tending to their child, but… their place in the world’s function still calls for them, calls for the Night’s Shadow.

Babysitters was quite a decent plan, they had made the secret entrance to their bunker quite hidden for a layscug or layscav. Most were not too questioning about it, the Sofanthiel cover story and the handsome rates were more than enough to distract a few teen slugs wanting a quick buck. Therewasan incident with one of them, can’t exactly remember his name but Enot remembered it started with a V? A spunky orange adolescent who refused to take off his “cool” glasses, he was the only one to discover the entrance pad and access the secret bunker. Good thing Enot had a lockdown protocol for any intruder not recognized in the bunker scanner whitelist, preventing what could have been it for both of Enot and Night. Poor kid, really, had a good heart but chose the wrong client and got too curious for his own good. After hearing that the slug had some family issues at home and taking pity on him, they decided to let the orange babysitter go with some hush money in order to seal his mouth on the nature of the bunker to anyone.

Tying their criminal friends to their family business was never up for consideration. The secret was airtight from both ends since the very start, with essentially no one knowing of their double life much less that they had a kid and a house in one of the snooty gated districts. The only exception to this was Riptide, their friend and former getaway driver from when Enot was still a small-time thief who had now since gone clean. When they could not make the proper arrangements, she would usually agree to swing by and babysit Night, usually bringing her daughter Rivulet over as well for a playdate. Really, even if some of their closest confidants who knew of Night’s existence had offered to help, they really could not see some of them taking care of a pup. They had seen some of these slug’s hideouts, they couldn’t clean their place if it was to save their life.

Dumping the cooked meatballs into the now melted sauce, Enot turned off the second stove and worked on flipping the bundles of pasta, defrosting the top side and detangling the individual strands from each other. Dipping a finger into the sauce quickly to taste for seasoning, they opened the spice drawer to add some garlic powder and paprika for some extra kicks of flavor. With the dinner now fully prepared and smelling as nice as ever, Enot gave it a final stir before pulling out two plates from the pantry, serving up a pup-sized serving for their daughter and dumping the rest on their own plate. “dinner’s ready!” Calling out for Night to come over to eat, the indigo slugcat grabbed the two steaming hot plates of spaghetti and placed them on either end of the small wooden dining table, Nightcat was currently struggling to climb up her chair as Enot set down the forks.

The indigo slugcat reveled in the simple satisfaction of domestic life as Night eagerly twirled her fork into the pile of pasta, stabbing into a chunk of a meatball to get a balanced bite for them to swallow. After a few bites of their own, Enot finally broke the silence. “so, nighty. how did ya think of the secret drawing stash i made?”

The pup enthusiastically waved the fork up in the air, speaking with a large amount of spaghetti still in her mouth. “I loufed itph! Yurf tfmph be-”

“now now, dear. chew ur food before speaking, thats good table manners.” Enot chided with a mock consternation, the tenderness barely being contained in their tone. After a few seconds of the pup’s silent chewing, bits of marinara still sticking to her lips, Night finally swallowed and spoke again, her enthusiasm still uncurbed. “I loved it! You are the best mom ever!!” The pup beamed, joy radiating off her small face. “I wish all my classmates can have a superhero mom as well!”

Enot can’t help but chuckle at that remark. “guess not all pups are as lucky as u are, darling.” If they were to be put in this spectrum, they are not sure if their deeds and powers grant them the title of a supervillain, but their flair for the dramatic, their abnormal amount of hidden gadgets, and their secret base would certainly be indicative of one. They had been an avid collector of comics during their teen days, before their first foray into crime, and they had unconsciously designed many of their hidden storerooms and hideouts around these evil lairs, the white fluorescent lights shining on the cold metal floors and the droning blue monitors was certainly an aesthetic Enot had been aiming for in order to immerse themselves in this almost cartoonish level of villainy that they had came to embrace. Funny how Night fully believed that they were a superhero, but Enot was willing to play along with her innocent imaginations for as long as they were kept.

“maybe i should make the panels bigger, can fit more of your drawing on there.” The indigo slugcat mused in between forkfuls of spaghetti, even eating this simple meal with the refined elegance that they had portrayed themselves as in their career. “im sure u have more art stored up in ya. just need time for you to come thinking of them, and i will wait here to post them alongside your best works.”

Night twirled her fork around, seemingly deep in thought. “Yeah! Maybe you can tell me some more stories for me to doodle?”

“sure! i think i have onejustprepared for bedtime.” Watching the pup get visibly excited, beginning to devour her meal faster as if impatient for sleep and the chance to hear the story, Enot began plotting the threads of a retelling of one of their more recent ventures. It was just a heist for some important data from an iterator named Sliver of Straw, so they are sure they can spin this into heroics somehow. Maybe omit the part where they stole her puppet’s legs, a last-minute appendix to the plan made when they were drunk and thought that crippling an iterator would be hilarious, Enot really did not see a possible way to picture that in any moral way.

The rest of the meal was filled with comfortable chatter, with Enot inquiring about all the bits of their daughter’s life that they were forced to miss out on. They discussed school, homework, playground rivalries, basically whatever a pup thought was interesting news. There was a new student who joined her 1st-grade class today, a shy yellow pup named Monk, and she said that they got to get along pretty well during recess. The indigo slugcat wondered if it was even safe to let her take her friends back to the house for a playdate, but… they were just pups. As long as they make the secret entrance hidden enough, no one should know any better that Night’s mother was anything but Sofanthiel.

As Enot was putting the dishes and the two pans in the sink for washing, Night was already up on the couch, ready to spend the last hour or so before bedtime watching TV. The slugcat leading a double life sighed in grim determination, capturing this moment in their mind for them to understand what was there to lose if they were to slip up just once. Enot still has a promise to fulfill to Wanderer, for a child of a child of an iterator to live a life outside of the perfect control of random gods, outside of the fractal chaos of the criminal underworld, a combination of two different sides that would get to live the happy childhood that neither of her parents had.

They could wash the dishes later after they put Night to bed. For now, they should enjoy what little time they can afford to spend with their daughter, immersing themselves into this second life they had built. As Enot settled down on the couch next to the pup, they grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels, trying to find something to pass the time. Hmm… one of the channels is apparently airing the pilot episode for a show called “Family Guy”? Sounds interesting, might as well give it a watch.

As night fell outside, a mother and a daughter scooted next to each other, ready to watch whatever life has got for them.

Chapter 5: Shadow Subsumed

Chapter Text

Nightcat carefully operated the plastic tweezer she had in her purse, plucking each of the fake red eyelashes one by one. She would have to shower in order to get rid of the gels that she applied in order to make her fur look as velvety and alluring as possible while on the job, but something like makeup was far more noticeable, and she absolutely could not have her mother see her like this. At least staff got a private washroom to change. On her first visit, She went to the public bathroom and itreekedof cigarettes and burnt karma flowers.

Today… was alright, the slugcat supposed. She served some food early on before one of the dancers left and she took their place. For her just four months ago, having people drool over her as she spun on that pole, melting them into a puddle as she purposefully maneuvered her position that caused her tail to brush past the ears and faces of the most generous viewers would have been an absolutely transcendent experience. Their desires and need for approval were stuffed full with cold, hard cash and the lustful looks of visitors, but it worried them that even this rush was slipping through her fingers like dust. Maybe she should try for some of the more… physical parts of her new job?

The dark-furred slugcat shuddered in discomfort. Surely… her instincts would be right again, right? This… this felt nice. She was getting what she wanted. Her impulses had led her down to this life of pleasure and exhibitionism, so she should trust it again… right? Surely getting down and going all in can’t bethatbad? Some of her colleagues seemed to enjoy it, at least. Maybe this was just her apprehension blocking her, the same apprehension she had in her way from her desired life when she first visited the Inverted Nightclub and was offered a position as a waitress. Then… why does she feel so scared? So… wrong?

Agh. She can think of this later. Nightcat splashed her face with water, before grabbing a soft, rosy cloth from the shelf next to the sink and pumping some makeup remover onto it, gently wiping off the eyeliners and lipstick that made her lips an almost surreal red line. In a circular motion, she started with her left and right eye to get rid of the mascara, using the other eye to ensure that every last particle was removed. As she rinsed her eyelids a second time and began to work on her lips, Nightcat heard the door opening.

Nif entered the washroom, an equally dark slugcat adorned in the signature red eyelashes and performer-required makeup. She didn’t do serving all that much, half performing on the poles and at tables and the other half off with clients for more private services. Clearly, the latter tasks were not fulfilled today. As soon as she shut the door, the slightly older slugcat quickly pulled out a packet of batnip cigarettes from her purse, lighting it up to take a quick drag before noticing Nightcat in the washroom. “Hey, kid. How was your night?”

She shrugged, looking in the mirror at Nif. “Nothin’ much, just the usual pole clients for the day. How about you?” They clock out at around the same time, so their meetings here were frequent, and their relations cordial despite Nif’s brash attitudes and cynicism. “Since you are back here and clocking out, I assume you didn’t snatch someone?”

The older slugcat laughed. “Nah, I actually just came back from a client. A f*cking weirdo at that.”

“Ooh, spill thetea.” Nightcat wiped off her lipstick, ready to receive some hot gossip straight from the source. “Was it that weird-ass scavenger that asked to nibble on the dancer’s tails? Or the one in the lizard costume?”

Nif chuckled. “He was somehow both weirder and more normal than that.” She blew out a puff of smoke. “A weird blue squid guy called… look, I can’t bother remembering, and it's not like he really cared either. Something to do with rocks and numbers. He asked if I was okay with really weird sh*t, and I shrugged and said ‘sure’. We got into his car for him to drive us back to his apartment, and…”

“And?”

“Nothing.” Nif shrugged. “Absolute jack diddly squat happened. We went back to his place, and he, I sh*t you not,” she gestured a pulling motion, “rolled out a blackboard and piece of chalk, and started lecturing me on some weird math sh*t. I think he called it ‘Real Analysis?’ Tons of f*cked up symbols that I had to pretend to understand. I even tried to undress, but he asked to put my clothes back on!”

“Bahahahaha!” Nightcat laughed heartily. “I can see why this client is more of a weirdo than others. How does anyone ever get turned on by doing that sh*t?” Nif walked over to the sink and pulled out her own purse, starting to remove her makeup by the sink. “I have some ideas, but maybe he is just a weirdo. It’s just three hours of entertaining some guy by feigning interest in the college math sh*t he’s talking about, and all in all he is a good tipper. Had seen weirder kinks before; at least this one was pretty benign.”

As Night finished rising off her face and removing the makeup, she felt like now was the right time to get a second opinion before leaving. She had been in here for years, so hopefully she could dispense some good---or at least coherent---opinions. “Say, Nif,” Nightcat initiated as Nif worked on removing her lip marks. “I have been thinking of… going deeper lately, like taking on table performances and private sh*t in addition to serving and dancing. But… I don’t know.” Nightcat sighed. “Is it weird that I feel a bit… scared? Like, was it weird I am both excited and intimidated by doing this?”

“Aww, lil’ Nottie about to play at the big table?” Nif teased before lighting up another cigarette and taking a drag. “My advice? Don’t do it for the money. It’s just not worth it despite the occasional high roller.” Nightcat nodded along, slightly elated at hearing another’s perspective. “You can do whatever, I am not your mom, but… you seem like a bright kid. Dancin, spinnin’ around, dressing skimpily, all of these are easy to take back and forget. Getting down n’ dirty though?” Nif puffs out a stream of smoke. “I’m sure that cleaning up my own image when I get out of this gig to settle down and get a respectable job would be a fun ordeal.”

“Although,” she pointed the cigarette at Nightcat, “you do have the looks and the voice to make this quite profitable. You are still young, still have that vigor that I would envy to retain. Plus, your tail markings,” Nif knelt down and touched at the two striped rings on the end of Nightcat’s tail, causing her to blush slightly, “listen, I am into guys and all, but these rings… be it hypnosis or pheromones or magic or whatever the f*ck, I understand how other patrons got actin’ up from you sweepin’ your tail.”

Nightcat giggled, “Aww, shucks. I was wondering if it would even show up that clearly if I had gelled my fur.” She was clearly enjoying the compliments, something even better received when it was from a known colleague and potential competitor for gains than it would be from some random stranger. “You should teach me how to ask for makeup properly. Sophie just gave me the default treatment since I am not a fashion nerd, but… imagine what I would look like with some of y’all’s beauty treatments alongside my tail!”

“Yeah, you would be even more of a competition than before. I will be sure to tell Sophie to do the exact opposite of what you said.” Nif said playfully, before falling into a contemplative silence. “Say… Nottie, do you remember when you first came here? When all of us laughed our collective asses off at this frail little girl who claimed that she was Enot?”

“Look, I panicked, alright?” Nightcat was red with embarrassment, still remembering when she accidentally used her own mother’s name as a pseudonym, despite the utter ridiculousness of such thanks to their infamy. “I don’t wanna use my real name, so I just thought of a name off the top of my head that I could use.”

“Kids these days and their ‘true crime’ fads…” Nif shook her head in a mock dismissiveness. “You got some nerve to plagiarize the Night’s Shadow like that, and gentlemanly thief or not, they are definitely vain and petty enough to send someone to tear you apart if you got on their radio.” Hearing someone talk about her mother like that was not exactly a new experience for Nightcat, she could not walk three feet without hearing someone talking about the Night’s Shadow, who, in retrospect, must have had a damn good PR team to be popular among the common citizens. Still, it caused Nightcat to slightly tense, only nodding along.

“Anyways, onto my main topic. Now, still a dumb f*cking move from ya to bat the paincone n claim you are Enot, but now I look at you closer… I think you may have a point.” Nif said into the mirror at Nightcat, plucking out the eyelashes. “Obviously, you are not Enot. They are in their late 40s. But… maybe you share some of their looks through other reasons, like… I dunno, being their kid or something.”

“NO???” Nightcat tensed up, before realizing that such overreaction might bring more suspicions. “Uhh… I mean… *ahem* what made you think so?”

“Here me out, alright?” Nif disposed of the fake eyelash, pulling out another cigarette to light up. “You said that you only have a mom, right? I’m just sayin… a lot of us swooned over ‘em when they were in their prime, breaking sh*t out of museums and stealing from the rich. If they were such a big-shot hottie, it would make sense for them to… y’know, get down and dirty with some lady slugs and sire some bastard pups once in a while.” Nightcat breathed a sigh of relief, seeing just how far the guess was from the truth, but the claim… unsettled her. Because this… this could happen, right? Her mother was hermaphrodite, and if their boasts were correct, Enot was someone quite different before they gave birth to her and “settled down,” and what if…

“Do you think they would do something like that?” Nightcat muttered, deep in thought.

“Void knows that so many scugs and scavs would absolutelydroolif that was the case. I was not too big a fan of them myself, but my older sister… definitely a textbook fangirl.” Nif breathed out another puff of smoke. “I’m not sayin’ that YOUR dad is Enot, but could you imagine if it was? That would bepeakdrama. Like a story beat straight out of a soap opera.”

Suddenly, her phone buzzed, causing Nightcat to quickly pull it out of her purse and look at it. “Ope, looks like my ride was here. See you next Friday, Nif.” She waved goodbye to Nif as she got ready to leave as well, exiting out the washroom door. Walking past the tables and the seats and the few dancers still doing their damnedest to earn more money from onlookers, she put on her earbuds to block the noise for the time, ignoring the jeering scavengers who were either too dense or too persistent to take the hint that she was off the shift. Coming up to the entrance, she checked out with the bouncer, wearing an orange attire and spiked black hair. “Calling it a day, miss Nottie?”

“Yeah, planning to go back home and sleep. I have a big decision coming up, so I’m planning to sit on it for a while to see if I am gonna make the right choice.”

“Gee, that certainly sounds like a conundrum!” he responded enthusiastically. “Gyuhhuh, I wish I could just pull the conflict out of you and punch it, but I know that the mightiest fighter to beat your problems away would be you all along!”

A smile crept up Nightcat’s face. “Thanks, Goku. See you next Friday.” With a final wave as farewell to the Saiyan, she entered into the rain to enter the car outside.

It was a light drizzle outside when she stepped out of the taxi, the gates of the upper districts that she called home as opulent and needlessly pompous as ever. Nightcat paid the scavenger taxi driver with her card, brushing off her fur to look as presentable as she could and dusting off any possible flecks of makeup or powder before trudging through the rain upon the front door of her mansion. She was not thinking much then, just having her earbuds tuned to some downloaded podcasts on her phone that she started to play when the taxi ride started.

When she opened the door, her stomach slightly dropped. Enot, her mother, was sitting on the dining table, emotionlessly staring at a glass of fine Pinot Noir. They were still in their “work outfit”, not even bothering to put away the weaponized bracelets or belt canisters, glumly downing another hefty swig. It was obvious that the indigo slugcat had a few too many drinks already, the wine cabinet door still swung open, and the full bottle was now half-empty. Nightcat knew her mother well; despite their other bad habits they were in no way an alcoholic, much less in their own home when they could go out to whatever criminal bar or high-class restaurant when the urge calls to them. Her mother drinking like this could only mean something very, very bad.

“Hey mom, I’m back from McPebbles.” Nightcat tentatively muttered, shutting the door behind her as she was very well aware that she was stepping on eggshells. The indigo slugcat turned to look at their daughter, the alcohol-induced inebriated haze less than enough to cover up the hurt in their eyes. “how long?”

“H-huh?” Nightcat stammered, her heart starting to race. “My shift? It's five hours, like usual. I had taken the night shift, remember?”

Enot exhaled a shaky sigh, filling up another serving of wine before downing the entire glass. They used the table as leverage to get up from the chair, the inebriation clearly taking a bit of a toll on them already. “u know thats not what i meant, nighty.”

Her heart started to race further, the confrontation she had tried hard to avoid now right in front of her. “I-I don’t know what you are talking about, mom. Nothing happ-”

“dont you f*ckING lie to me!!” The slugcat screamed, grabbing the bottle and slamming it down on the table, shards of glass spraying everywhere as a puddle of wine now pooled on the floor. For a moment, the murderous glance resembled the one they would have used when they were at work, putting fear into even the most hardened criminals as they gained the mark of the Night’s Shadow. With the broken end of the wine bottle gripped in their hands, Enot slowly advanced, leather boots crunching on the glass debris. “do u think i am an idiot? that i am blind? that i do not have eyes all around metropolis?”

As Enot stepped forward, Nightcat slowly took a step back, then two, then three, holding her hands in front of her. “Look, mom, it's not what it seems.”

“not what it seems, eh?” Enot barked a bitter chuckle laced with venom. “not. what. it. seems. tell me, darling, what was i supposed to see?”

“I… I…” Nightcat stammered, fearing for her own life as she desperately tried to come up with an explanation in futility. “I had… it was just… the restaurant had…” Before long, she fell into silence, accepting that nothing she said would obfuscate the truth.

“u only got so far because most of my informants did not know you existed.” The indigo slugcat muttered. “one of mine who i confided in ur existence visited the place today---for reasons i will not blame---and got a good f*ckING eyefull.” Their voice became shaky, barely managing to choke out a sob. “how many have seen u? how many of my own men had oohed n’ ahhed n’ thrown money at u, unaware that ur my daughter? how many have lusted over u as u danced on that void-forsaken pole and…” Enot could not hold back the sob this time, tears streaming down their eyes. “...swept your tails across the patrons’ faces?”

“Look, mom. I… I made a mistake, I know it. It was an accident, but…”

Enot walks up to their daughter at a brisk pace, a mix of relief and worry in their voice. “what was it, sweetheart? did you get coerced? kidnapped? blackmailed?” The indigo slugcat asked, still in some sort of denial no matter how paper thin. “tell me who forced u to do this, ur safe here with me. it could even be one of the iterators, just tell me who did this to u and i will kill them. i will tear them to shreds. i will dismantle all they hold dear.”

“Its just… I just…” Nightcat struggled to admit the truth. “No one did anything to get me here. I wanted this life. I wanted to be there.” She cowered at the sight of her mother’s eyes, the horror and the menace of the Night’s Shadow even more spine-chilling when up close. “u are lucky, night,” Enot growled, “that my right hand was occupied with a sharp weapon. words cant describe how GAR-f*ckING-GANTUAN of a will it took for me to not slap the sh*t out of u right this second.”

“did u know how much effort i spent to separate u from that world?” Enot pointed at their own chest, speaking in exasperation. “years of planning to keep you hidden, tens of thousands to give u the best tutors and afterschool programs, everything i have done to give you a normal childhood away from my sins, but nooooooo!” Enot’s voice rose again, “u just wont f*ckING stop, will ya? Was the rebellious petty theft duo schtick that you tried to pull with rivvie not enough of a middle finger to ur old man? Were you spiting my wishes by diving head first into that f*ck HOLE and sell out your own body?”

Nightcat simply stood there, head down in shame as Enot berated her, made her feel horrible for even choosing this. That was until Enot said something very specific. “how do u think wanderer would have felt? I had known that slug only second to his creator, and I tell you this: if he was still alive, he would be so, SO disappointed in you.”

Something within the dark slugcat had snapped. “You know what? I had enough of you mentioning him as if he mattered to me in any capacity.” Nightcat spat back. A wave of anger rose in her chest as a newfound determination rippled through her. “I was still a developing bundle of cells inside of you when you discovered the truth. He had died nineteen years ago, mom. You have avenged him years prior by bringing down his creator and killer. Yet, you STILL puppet his dead corpse around, trying to stir guilt with me by using a dad that I had never met? Oh, spare me the theatrics!”

“night, u will not talk about Wanderer that wa-”

“Oh, and also, if he was alive, I have reasons to believe he would claim the contrary. He broke the rules to find happiness, to find you. Was I not here to do the same?” Nightcat grew more angry, no longer wishing to back down and fully prepared to butt heads with Enot. “This job makes me happy, that’s all. I had been down in the dump for so long, and considering how little time you spend around me you didn’t even know how severe it was, right? Can’t f*cking do your job as a parent and go see if your own daughter was sad? Not even a ‘Hey, I saw you were down lately, wanna talk about it?’ Of course you didn’t. The moment you decided to keep going was the moment you chose your glitz and glamour life over me.”

Nightcat felt hot tears streak down her face, unknowingly having started to cry while in her speech. “I know that you will deny me this, claim that I am doing this for someone else, but Iwantedthis. Watching them as they cheered on, as the proof of my capabilities and charm fluttered down on the dance floors as I spun around and blew kisses to the highest bidder, THAT was what I was missing all this time.” All of her doubts and conflicts melted away in this surge of emotion, her assertions and wants feeling more pure than ever. “I am truly happy to be there, and nothing will change that. Try to stop me if you wish, but know that you would have only doomed your own flesh and blood to deeper layers of despair.”

Enot dropped the bottle on the floor, clearly looking shocked at Nightcat’s admission. “i… i didnt know it was that bad…” the indigo slugcat muttered, “i thought you were just going thru that phase when u entered high school. i tried to help you out the best i can, but…” they looked down in shame. “i cant excuse myself. i should have been here for you more, be a shoulder for you to cry on. i… focused too much on the work that brought me joy. just like you.”

Nightcat was not expecting her mother to act like this, still anticipating the fearsome persona and stubborn attitude they were known for. However, she did not see the aura of Metropolis’s greatest thief as Enot tried to reach out with their arm, only the concern and panic of a worried mother. “but i can make it right. please, at least let me make it up to u. leave this behind, and we can talk, talk about what i could have done better, what i should do from now on.” Enot shakily sighs, “i just wanna let you know that i still care for u, that i want to mend this and be the mother i should have been all these years.”

A surge of confusion swept through Nightcat’s mind. A part of the dark slugcat wanted to break down crying, to embrace her mother and abandon all of this and to get on a brighter path by following the darkest of shadows. Yet, she wanted to hate them also, still seeing that they wanted her to abandon the career that had filled the void in her heart that her mother had never even bothered to fix. Conflicted, a thought from the conversation she had with Nif tonight drifted into her mind, causing her to whisper. “Am I your only child?”

“what?” Enot asked, seemingly knocked off course by this question. “honey… you are my only daughter. i didn’t even know that i could bear pups before that, and after… i just did not have the will to have more responsibility.”

The dark slugcat stared at her mother, an accusatory tone in her voice. “You are not answering my question. Am. I. Your. Only. Child?”

The conflicted and guilty look on Enot’s complexion told Nightcat everything even before the words came out of their mouth. “I… I don’t know.” So Nif was right all along. Not about the part with Enot being her father, but… they could have been someone’s. Even with all the love and care that Enot had given her despite their criminal lifestyle, she now knew that there could be a trail of bastard half-siblings out there who never got any of that.

She could not take this any longer. Wordlessly, Nightcat began to march to the fine mahogany doors, the roaring of blood in her ears drowning out her mother’s desperate pleas. The thoughts stirring in her head only got angrier and angrier, seeing how her mother was saying all this despite being no saint themselves. “please dont go, nighty!” Enot sobbed out, reaching out to her. “i am sorry! i was not the same before i had u!”

“i am not your daughter.” Nightcat turned around with a steely gaze, looking at the indigo slugcat before her with nothing but pure contempt. “I am sure plenty of slugs out there would be estatic to know who their father was. Go bother them if you still wanted to be a parent.” Nightcat opened the doors, the rain pouring outside. “If you still have any love for me, don’t go looking for me. Don’t send your men to track me down.” With the last word said, the dark slugcat slammed the door behind her, fading into the downpour that the rain had now grown into.

Chapter 6: Shadow Subsumed Except Nightcat has Extremely Large Shoes

Chapter Text

Nightcat carefully operated the plastic tweezer she had in her purse, plucking each of the fake red eyelashes one by one. She would have to shower in order to get rid of the gels that she applied in order to make her fur look as velvety and alluring as possible while on the job, but something like makeup was far more noticeable, and she absolutely could not have her mother see her like this. At least staff got a private washroom to change. On her first visit, She went to the public bathroom and the floor was absolutely filthy. Inv did not even bother fixing the potholes from the shoes impacting the ground.

Today… was alright, the slugcat supposed. She served some food early on before one of the dancers left and she took their place. For her just four months ago, having people drool over her as she spun on that pole, obliterating them into atomic dust as she spun around the pole, swiping her tail at the most generous patrons before slamming her absolutely MASSIVE yeezys down on the platform would have been an absolutely transcendent experience. Their desires and need for approval were stuffed full with cold, hard cash and the lustful looks of visitors, but it worried them that even this rush was slipping through her fingers like dust. Maybe she should try for some of the more… exotic shoes to perform with? Oh yeah, and selling her body out fully to strangers for more money, that as well, butshoes.

The dark-furred slugcat shuddered in discomfort. Surely… her instincts would be right again, right? This… this felt nice. She was getting what she wanted. Her impulses had led her down to this life of pleasure and exhibitionism and shoes, so she should trust it again… right? Surely getting down and going all in on the tungsten boots can’t bethatbad? Some of her colleagues seemed to enjoy it, at least. Maybe this was just her apprehension blocking her, the same apprehension she had in her way from her desired life when she first visited the Inverted Nightclub and was offered a position as a waitress. Then… why does she feel so scared? So… wrong-

“f*ck!” Nightcat held on to the sink as the entire club tremored, the untimely stomp having caused her tweezers to take off a bit more than her fake eyelashes. “f*ck! sh*t! Can’t they just warn us before they do-” The dark slugcat hissed to herself, clutching at her right eye and the new patch of furless slimy skin that had just been created where her eyebrow once was. Who was it that had done the slam? Was it Viv? Nat, maybe? Regardless, she will be sure to give the other dancer a piece of her mind when she comes back to work next friday night. As she rinsed her eyebrow to soothe the pain and began to work on removing her lipsticks, Nightcat heard the door opening.

Nif entered the washroom, an equally dark slugcat adorned in the signature red eyelashes and performer-required makeup. Her shoes slammed onto the floor, an ornate yet flowing design adorned with metal leaves and vibrant red-and-blue colors. She didn’t do serving all that much, half performing on the poles and at tables and the other half off with clients for more private services. Clearly, the latter tasks were not fulfilled today, seeing as how her boots are quite clean and that she was back here at all instead of offering usual “aftercare” services. As soon as she shut the door, the slightly older slugcat quickly pulled out a packet of batnip cigarettes from her purse, lighting it up to take a quick drag before noticing Nightcat in the washroom. “Hey, kid. How was your night?”

She shrugged, looking in the mirror at Nif. “Nothin’ much, just the usual pole clients for the day, got two riled enough to pay for the mega slam. How about you?” They clock out at around the same time, so their meetings here were frequent, and their relations cordial despite Nif’s brash attitudes and cynicism. “Since you are back here and clocking out, I assume you didn’t snatch someone?”

The older slugcat laughed. “Nah, I actually just came back from a client. A f*cking weirdo at that.”

“Ooh, spill thetea.” Nightcat wiped off her lipstick, ready to receive some hot gossip straight from the source. “Was it that weird-ass scavenger that asked to get crushed into a fine red paste by the shoes? Or the one in the lizard costume?”

Nif chuckled. “He was somehow both weirder and more normal than that.” She blew out a puff of smoke. “A weird blue squid guy called… look, I can’t bother remembering, and it's not like he really cared either. Something to do with rocks and numbers. He asked if I was okay with really weird sh*t, and I shrugged and said ‘as long as its not murder, sure’. We got into his car for him to drive us back to his apartment, and…”

“And?”

“Nothing.” Nif shrugged. “Absolute jack diddly squat happened. We went back to his place, and he, I sh*t you not,” she gestured a pulling motion, “rolled out a blackboard and piece of chalk, and started lecturing me on some weird math sh*t. I think he called it ‘Abstract Algebra?’ Tons of f*cked up symbols that I had to pretend to understand. I even tried to get comfortable and take off my shoes to try ‘take notes’, but he asked to put them back on!”

“Bahahahaha!” Nightcat laughed heartily. “I can see why this client is more of a weirdo than others. How does anyone ever get turned on by doing that sh*t?” Nif walked over to the sink and pulled out her own purse, starting to remove her makeup by the sink. “I have some ideas, but maybe he is just a weirdo. It’s just three hours of entertaining some guy by feigning interest in the college math sh*t he’s talking about, and all in all he is a good tipper. Had seen weirder kinks before; at least this one was pretty benign.”

As Night finished rising off her face and removing the makeup, she felt like now was the right time to get a second opinion before leaving. She had been in here for years, so hopefully she could dispense some good---or at least coherent---opinions. “Say, Nif,” Nightcat initiated as Nif worked on removing her lip marks. “I have been thinking of… going deeper lately, like taking on table performances and specialized shoes and private clients in addition to serving and dancing. But… I don’t know.” Nightcat sighed. “Is it weird that I feel a bit… scared? Like, was it weird for me to think that I could not handle the osmium-lined shoe’s power?

“Aww, lil’ Nottie about to gamble at the big table?” Nif teased before lighting up another cigarette and taking a drag. “My advice? Don’t do it for the money. Communin’ with shoes of those power really don’t sell that much extra.” They said, pointing at their own finely crafted masterpiece. “This baby may look pretty as all hell, but… to tell ya the truth? its only a tungsten base lined with some High Speed Steel M42 for the linings. Just make the impressive materials visible to the gullible public n THAT’s how you get the attention.”

“Aww, what?” Nightcat said in disbelief. “I thought you were using Osmiridium soles at the very least.” Nif chuckled. “Nah, I could probably handle that thing’s power but I ain’t riskin’ it. There are horror stories, y’know? Of people who were overwhelmed by their yeezy’s raw drip power and became nothin’ but vessels to their eldritch whims.” The dark slugcat took another drag at her cigarette. “I am not some shoe freak who wanna splurge to buy some Hastelloy X243 or Dibenzyltetraacetylhexaazaisowurtzitane powdered shoes and risk their life just to get a little bit more profit. I wanna leave one day, you get that?” She held the still smoking cigarrete in her hand, looking wistfully in the distance. “Get out of this city, have a respectable job, start a family. I wouldn’t trade that chance for anythin’.”

The room was filled with a sudden quiet, Nightcat’s conflicting feeling storming in her head. “So… you think there won’t be a good way out of this if I continue?” Nif barked out a laugh, a plume of smoke coming out of her mouth. “Not my forte at the very least. But seeing how… into it you seem about all of this, I dunno… maybe it works out for you. Who f*cking knows? You are askin’ a question at a thirty-something prostitute, ya think I’m here instead of studying law because I make wise choices?”

“Hah!” Night slightly laughed. “You make a great point. I will probably stop at osmium based-soles, then.” The slugcat put her makeup removal equipment in her bag. “I gotta go now, have to collect my check from Inv’s office. But one last question. You know of anyone who gone in deep and came out clean again?” Nif looked up thoughtfully, racking through her head. “Actually, there was one. Y’heard of someone by the name of Enot? A fairly big hotshot a while ago in the more illegal rings.”

And also my mom. Nightcat thought to herself, but quickly pressed on as this was not something she knew. “Wait, you said that Enot… used shoes?” Nif lit up a cigarette. “Well, yeah. The more customized one would be useful in crime, and he used them a bunch during his active years. He is a lot more chilled out after suddenly going under all of a sudden,”to have me,the dark slugcat thought, “but he seemed strangely averse to shoes after that point. I had a bar friend who was a henchmen for ‘em once, he had no idea what could have got him out of it.”

“Hm.” Nightcat silently considered. “Welp, my taxi is almost here. I will swing by to Inv’s office to get my check, then I will see you next friday!” After closing the door, the stomp of the metal boots shook the floor, which attracted the attention of some scavengers jeering at her, which she promptly ignored and looked the other way. After a brief talk in Inv’s management office, she stood at the gate of the nightclub, waiting for her ride while shielded from the pouring rain with the bouncer, Goku.

“Hey Nottie! How was your day?” The saiyan enthusiastically asked, towering at double her height. “Its… fine. Nothing much happened today anyways. But when I get back home, I will have to… face something.” Nightcat grimaced.

“Aww, that sucks! I would love to help you, but this seems like something quite emotional, huh?” He smiled.” The dark slugcat thought for a second, then requested for him to lean down so she could whisper something.

“Oh, you wanna tell me something private? Alright!” Goku leaned down, Nightcat leaning in and telling her secret plan.

Whisper whisper

“Uh huh.”

Whisper whisper whisper

“Ooh! Yeah, I could do that!”

Whisper whisper whisper

“I see, alright! I should have time!”

Whisper whisper

“Since when were you such a great planner, Nottie?” Goku complimented, causing Nightcat to slightly blush. “Alright, I will keep an eye out like you asked.”

Nightcat nodded. “Thank you so much.” She checked her phone to realize her ride had arrived, and quickly waved goodbye before dashing off into the rain.

It was a light drizzle outside when she stepped out of the taxi, the gates of the upper districts that she called home as opulent and needlessly pompous as ever. Nightcat paid the scavenger taxi driver with her card, brushing off her fur to look as presentable as she could and dusting off any possible flecks of makeup or powder before trudging through the rain upon the front door of her mansion, the booms of her shoes rocking the entire neighborhood. She was not thinking much then, just having her earbuds tuned to some downloaded podcasts on her phone that she started to play when the taxi ride started.

When she opened the door, her stomach slightly dropped. Enot, her mother, was sitting on the dining table, emotionlessly staring at a glass of fine Pinot Noir. They were still in their “work outfit”, not even bothering to put away the weaponized bracelets or belt canisters, glumly downing another hefty swig. It was obvious that the indigo slugcat had a few too many drinks already, the wine cabinet door still swung open, and the full bottle was now half-empty. Nightcat knew her mother well; despite their other bad habits they were in no way an alcoholic, much less in their own home when they could go out to whatever criminal bar or high-class restaurant when the urge calls to them. Her mother drinking like this could only mean something very, very bad.

“Hey mom, I’m back from McPebbles.” Nightcat tentatively muttered, shutting the door behind her as she was very well aware that she was stepping on eggshells. The indigo slugcat turned to look at their daughter, the alcohol-induced inebriated haze less than enough to cover up the hurt in their eyes. “how long?”

“H-huh?” Nightcat stammered, her heart starting to race. “My shift? It's five hours, like usual. I had taken the night shift, remember?”

Enot exhaled a shaky sigh, filling up another serving of wine before downing the entire glass. They used the table as leverage to get up from the chair, the inebriation clearly taking a bit of a toll on them already. “u know thats not what i meant, nighty.”

Her heart started to race further, the confrontation she had tried hard to avoid now right in front of her. “I-I don’t know what you are talking about, mom. Nothing happ-”

“dont you f*ckING lie to me!!” The slugcat screamed, grabbing the bottle and slamming it down on the table, shards of glass spraying everywhere as a puddle of wine now pooled on the floor. For a moment, the murderous glance resembled the one they would have used when they were at work, putting fear into even the most hardened criminals as they gained the mark of the Night’s Shadow. With the broken end of the wine bottle gripped in their hands, Enot slowly advanced, leather boots crunching on the glass debris. “do u think i am an idiot? that I am blind? that i won’t question why the f*ck are u wearing those abnormally sized yeezys? what kinda normal ppl do u see everyday that wears that sh*t?”

As Enot slowly advances, Nightcat inches backwards on their absolutely ginormous pairs of drip, the glass shards on the ground quaking as she took step-after-step back. “L-listen, mom, its not what you think. I… the restaurant, it had…” Before long, she fell into silence, accepting that nothing she said would obfuscate the truth.

“There is only one place in town where people goes to f*cking drool at these shoes.” Enot muttered. “that little tramp inv and her so-called ‘capital of dripped out black slugcat hookers’, enslaving our race to- uhh, i mean-” Enot quickly stumbled on their words, causing Nightcat to temporarily raise an eyebrow. “*ahem*, I mean dressing up slugcats in these gaudy magic shoes for people to wank off to.”

“Look, mom. I… this was what made me happy, alright? Night tried to explain to her extremely miffed mother. “I am not harming anyone. I have not even had any physical encounters yet. I make sure to reject any advances from patrons, and I understood now that the extreme of exploiting my own body is a choice I could not undo and would be something I would regret for the years to come, especially with potentials like STI(Sexually Transmitted Infections) or unexpected pregnancies.” Nightcat sighed. “As such, I had made a promise to never go across that line, no matter what is coerced upon me as it would be non-consensual.”

Enot stared at her with a puzzled expression. “...the f*ck u yappin’ about? and did u seriously say the word ‘open bracket’ and ‘close bracket’ to represent parenthesis in ur f*cking sentences? u f*ckin’ high on karma flower or smth?” The dark slugcat was confused as well, the situation not going as she expected. “Wait, so you are not mad about me being a prostitute?”

“wat?” the gradiented slugcat replied incredulously. “no, thats not what i’m mad about. ur an adult, go bang whatever scugs u want, just dont go crying to me about that sh*t if you get a pup from that. i murder people every month, nighty, why would u think this is outside my moral compass?” Thats… kinda true, actually. “I dunno, mom! I just thought that you would… be angry about all this sh*t.” Nightcat exclaimed, feeling for whatever reason a slight disappointment.

“Oh no, I am still very angry.” Enot crossed their arms. “Not about the whole sex thing, I dont give a sh*t about who u f*ckin;” they waved dismissively, “but theshoes. i am so, SO disappointed about you wearing those f*cking yeezys. i…” Despite the apparent ridiculous circ*mstance, Nightcat was shocked to see her mother genuinely tearing up. “i thought i raised u better than this. to not treat them like this. i made you a role model, away from me, away from the life of the drip.” They pressed on, genuinely on the verge of sobbing. “Tell me, who you knew and respected had these shoes as well? Who?”

“You.” Nightcat whispered, voice barely audible.

“what?” Enot’s expression faltered, tears still welling up in the slugcat’s eyes. “You heard me. There are stories of you being an avid collector of these shoes while in your prime. But then… you stopped showing around with them, coinciding with the time you retreated into the background to have… well, me.” Nightcat stared deep into Enot’s startled eyes. “Why? What has changed that cause you to remove all traces of these shoes? When you were reported to switch between them with ease and used them to assist in your heists?”

“i… i… damn it all.” Enot broke into a full sob. “damn it all. damn it all. damn it all.” As they dropped down onto the ground in a bawling fit, Night could not help but feel bad. They have been acting weird, but… they are her mother. With a sigh, she walked forward, sending tremors through the house with her steel plated shoes while remaining careful to not accidentally step on her. Uncertainly, she knelt down on the ground and gave her mother a tentative hug, which Enot grasped onto and only cried louder as tears flowed down Nightcat’s shoulders. “i am sorry, nighty… i am so, so sorry…”

Her eyes were starting to fog up as well, the experience of having her mother, usually kind and charming on the exterior yet ruthless and cold when things get serious but now completely removed of barriers and sobbing inconsolably in her arms, was certainly a moment of connection she did not expect to have. Unsure what to say, she just silently patted her mother’s back, letting Enot cry out their sorrows. “It’s alright, mom. I am okay now. I forgive you.”

“no.” Enot suddenly mumbled, the sobs starting to fade away. “there was still something u dont know. something u should have deserved to know long, long ago.” The indigo slugcat looked back up at her with the frayed pupils that she had known all her life, the one that held her in utter affection as she came into this world, the one that admired her messy doodles with immense pride as she shoved the crayon abominations in their face when they got off “work”, the one that still provided for her all this time with as much support and love as their lifestyle could manage. “promise me one thing, alrite?” Enot whispered. “I always was your mother, and you always were my daughter.”

“I promise.” Nightcat whispered.

Her mother rose to an unsteady walk, seemingly heading to the bookshelf which the entrance to their underground armoury was behind. What was puzzling, however, was that they were not fiddling with the bookshelf itself, but a seemingly blank patch of the wall beside it, usually covered by the sliding bookshelf when the bunker door unlocks. “so, do u want to know so bad why i stopped wearing shoes? even when they benefitted me before?” Enot asked without looking, a panel popping up in the walls to cause an octagon in the floor to be retracted, replaced with a metal hatch with two indicators of foot marks. They took off their boots, and their socks…? which Night had noticed had metallic attachments hanging off of it, and stood on the hatch. “last chance to call it off. u dont have to see it if u dont wanna.”

“Just show me the truth already.”

With a sigh, Enot obliged. “ur not gonna like it.” With the press of a button, the hatch opened save for the spot where their feet stood, a set of mechanical pistons gently lowering them into the ground as Night watched in amazement. How many years had she lived in this house, played around as a pup in this corner unaware that there was an entire assembly rig under it? The noise did not sound too pleasant, either. Lots of sounds of screws being tightened, motors whirring, the occasional odd noise of crystal being inserted, and was that… a garbled mechanical scream? She covered her mouth in concern as Enot stood motionless amidst all this, about to ask her mother some good questions when the assembly stopped. Like clockwork, the machines folded in on themselves, and Nightcat gasped when she saw what adorned her mother’s feet.

It was the most ornate and exotic shoe she had ever seen. All sort of exotic metals and alloys Nightcat didn’t even know existed. It has a generally blue and black color scheme, save for the front which has orange plates for the left shoe and beige plate for the right shoe, each with an insignia etched on it, and was one of them… Seven Red Sun’s? The side of the shoes are encrusted with three gems each, evidently magical as they pulsed with power, notched channels causing the purple, green, and red gem to power the left shoe and the blue, yellow and orange to power the right. “how do i look?” Enot wryly chuckled, spinning around as the metal base clanked against the wooden floor.

“You look fantastic.” Night muttered in wonder. “Like the best version of me that I could picture being. But… how does this answer your question?”

“i thought you could have figured this out by now, nighty.” Enot sighed. “a shoe can not wear another shoe.”

A shoe can not wear another shoe…

Nightcat felt dizzy. No. No. It can’t be. Nononononono.

There are horror stories, y’know? Of people who were overwhelmed by their yeezy’s raw drip power and became nothin’ but vessels to their eldritch whims.

that little tramp inv and her so-called ‘capital of dripped out black slugcat hookers’, enslaving our race to-

“How long?” Nightcat croaked in the weakest squeak her voice could manage, filled with countless questions and emotions. “How long have you stole my mother’s body?”

“Enot” looked hurt, despite her fully knowing that there was no trace of Enot left, only the shoe. “Since you were an embryo attached to their uterine linings.” It whispered. “I grew attached to you as I carried you, birthed you, raised you. I wanted to honor their legacy.”

Nightcat’s hands balled up into fists, as she felt rage. A burning fire within her heart that could not be put out. This thing. It had raised her and cared for her for Night’s entire life, and now she knew it was all a lie. She had heard wistful tales of it talking about Enot’s deceased husband and her father Wanderer, and now she knew that the slugcat-shaped husk in front of her was none-the-wiser about the love their parents had for eachother, and the consolation she had as a pup for at least having one parent was gone now knowing she never had any to begin with.

“i know ur upset, nighty. this is clearly shocking news to u, but i-”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT.” Nightcat found herself yelling, heart pounding with burning fury. “You are a thief, one somehow even more vicious than my mother. They were expecting a child, to raise the only part of Wanderer they had left, and you took all of it from her.” Nightcat snarled. “Years of bonding, of me growing up and of them watching proudly during my achievements, all gone. You are no excuse for a replacement. How DARE you take their place!”

The entity who called themselves Enot began to sob again, but this time Nightcat felt nothing. “please, nighty, dont do this to me! u promised! i am the one to have loved and raised you all this time, not her!” A dry laugh came out of Nightcat, a sheer blankness overtaking her mind. “Oh, trust me. I still love my mother. I had loved them dearly for all my life, and I will grieve for their loss in what ways I can. You, however?” The dark slugcat sneered. “I am not your daughter to have.”

Nightcat watched in indifference as “Enot” knelt on the ground sobbing, but… as the seconds went by, the sobs slowly dried and transformed, into a chuckle then into maniacal laughter. Nightcat watched in unnerve as the entity who took her mother’s body guffawed, eyes glinted with a madness to a degree she had never seen her “mother” act as before. As the horrid laughs finally subsided, “Enot” regained its composure. “oh, OH. all of this, bravo! so grand, so tragic, like a work of desolation by the hands of pel herself.” The indigo husk clapped their hand, as if a movie had just ended.

“W-what do you mean?” Nightcat asked, a pit suddenly forming in their stomach.

“hahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!” The vocal cord of her mother’s body strained at how loudly it was laughing. “ur mother was an honorable slug, nightcat, more honorable than what i would have expected for a low-life thief like them.” Their mother’s visage let out a cruel grin. “when they got access to me, their mind was instantaneously on the process of being taken over. their only thought? to save their unborn child. Enot really loved you, nighty.”

“oh, how they bargained, how they begged, how they pleaded; anything to keep their child, their only thing left of Wanderer alive even when they are facing deletion themselves.” The body of Enot did a wistful sigh, as if reliving fond memories. “They struck a deal with me. In lieu of complete deletion, they gave me their accursed organic compassions. Not only their love for their job, the eternal seek for adrenaline, but also their love for you, nighty! their love for you!” The shoe-possessed vessel howled with laughter, as if this was the punchline to the most funny joke in the world. “so long as they have a child, they will always love u! they will always keep the world running for u!!!”

Nightcat falls silent. “So long as they have a child… no. no no no.” Her previous words rang in her head.I am not your daughter to have. “No no no no no… that can’t be!” The haunting shrieks of laughter only grew and grew. “do u see now? do u see why this is so FUNNY?” The shoe spoke through Enot’s living corpse, teeth clenched and spewing saliva every which way. “u killed them, nighty! u killed the piece of ur mother who loved u so much that they clung on to life, and u set me free! ur mother watched you grow up with pride and love, and u repaid them by ending their existence! their last moments were them begging for u to reconsider, to understand that they were always ur mother! oh, this is peak material right here! the most laughs i got in cent-”

“rrrraAAAAGGGGGHH!!!!! I’LL KILL YOU!” Nightcat screamed, lunging at her mother with all her might. However, she opened her eyes to find herself floating statically in space, surrounded by a flowing blue aura. Taking a glance at the boots, the blue gem appears to be glowing extra brightly. “Nuh-uh-uh!” The shoe chided, purposefully wagging Enot’s fingers in a stilted puppet-like fashion just to drive in the hurt further. “i know that compassionate me is weak and all, but they surely didn’t raise a fool, did they? decades of collecting the rarest artifacts to augment myself, and y’think just tacklin’ ur mother would do the trick?”

“Why…? Why are you not harming me still? Why can’t you just kill me?” Tears streamed down Nightcat’s face as the grief and guilt truly set in, knowing that the loving presence that had raised her was truly, in one way or another, her mother, her mother that was pleading for life in their last moments as she turned away from them. “u can call this… what do u guys call this thing now?” “Enot” snapped its fingers a few times in recollection. “o right,investment. this body here is wasted, decades spent aging away raising a child and going on pointless criminal escapades. it shall work well enough for my conquest, butyou,” it stepped closer, caressing at Nightcat’s cheeks with each landfall with the ground emanating an aura of pure power. “u have grown to a fine specimen. young, supple, spry, quick-witted, and most of all, u possess ur father’s blood. u hold the mark of an iterator spawn.”

Nightcat dropped onto the ground, gasping and panting in front of the two shoes that she had unleashed their full potential. “So… huff… that’s your plan? To take over my body, and use it to… what? Conquer the world?” The visage of Enot contorted into a sick grin. “now ur getting it. this realm was mine by birthright, and i am burdened with the glorious purpose to invert it, to have the shadows subsume the natural order and rebuild it in my image. the age of slugcats and scavengers and iterators has come to its whimpering end, and i shall be the spearhead, the empress of the new order, the primogenitor of the age of drip yeezys!”

“No.” Nightcat muttered, filled with both empty shock and grim determination. “I… I will stop you.”

“Enot” hollered in laughter, rolling back her mother’s head to laugh heartily. “oh, this is just grand. ladies, gentlemen, unspecified, are you all hearing this?” It turned around, gesturing to a nonexistent audience. “this naïve child thinks her and her yee-yee ass haircut and her steel-plated shoe and her vestigial tail can defeat me! that hunk of junk is barely even sentient! …u know wat? sure, let’s entertain you. c’mon, little girl,” It clapped Enot’s hands, riling her up as if taunting her for a fight. “lets see what ur up against.”

“naquadriatic taranium based soles doped with degenerate rhenium, plated metastable oganesson-mendeleevium 259 alloy, thallium barium calcium cuprate oxide superconductor wires and ZBLAN optical fibers covered in fullerine polymer matrix fabric,” The shoe continued to point at the additions, “enhanced voidmetal alloy, karmic field stablizers, the tortured remant consiousness of Seven Red Suns and Sliver of Straw manning the flux controls, all six infinity stones, the Yu-Gi-Oh duel disk, thinly annealed metallic strands made from the one ring to rule them all, and last but not least…” two small objects sprang from the boot and into its hands, tossing one dismissively before throwing the other at it midair. With a woosh of air, a tree grew from miniscule size to its mature stature, bearing some sort of green fruit. Was that… a singular bird? “... and a PARTRIDGE in a f*ckING PEAR TREE! How are you going to face against that and prevail, little girl? Your metallic lining isn’t even REAL gold!”

The reaction from Nightcat was… unexpected, however, looking at all the gadgets and fancy parts her “mother” had gathered over the years. “Against all of this? I am even more sure now.” She gave a deep chuckle. “Nah, I’d win.”

This was clearly not what the shoe had wanted, this message clearly poking at the entity’s ego. “i have four stands at the ready, each one capable of ripping you apart PAINFULLY at the blink of an eye.” They snarled, a cruel laugh mixed with anger. “you can’t defeat me.”

“I do have to admit, I can’t.” Nightcat stated with an unusual confidence. “But he can!”

“Enot” turned around to see a orange-robed saiyan with spiked black hair, crossing his arms and staring intently at the indigo slugcat. Goku gave a friendly wave at Nightcat. “Heya, I got your daughter’s call that there might be someone powerful to fight, and it looks like she is right! I can’t wait to sparr with you, Mrs.Enot!”

“No!” The vessel hissed, showing for the first time since their reveal the slightest hint of fear. “u… ur nothing compared to me. u were not able to defeat me 1,000 years ago, and you will not defeat me now!”

“Hmm, that may be true!” Goku co*cked his head. “But I have been practicing my techniques as well for this time, and I am eager to see if you would threaten me enough to take on these forms!” The saiyan cracked his knuckles. “Let’s battle, shall we?”

“You… i will pulverize you to atoms!” The husk of Enot screamed, ripping all six gems out from her shoe, energized tendrils controlling the six ingots of concentrated cosmic energy as they spun around in a ring, spacetime itself sparking until a reality-shattering ray of rainbow colors blasted out from the center, the fury of the cosmos itself slamming into its target. For a moment, “Enot” grinned sickeningly as Goku was obliterated into orange strands. This brief sense of victory was turned into unabated shock when the orange tendrils crawled up the blast at a lighting pace, grabbing onto the blue stone before the shoe could pause the blast and place the stones back where it should be. With a stormy blue cloud buzzing with electricity, the portal swallowed the six stones whole, leaving the shoe without a powerful weapon.

“you… YOU… what have u DONE-” The vessel’s turn in absolute blazing fury was paused by the appearance of two magical fields above and below it, quickly closing in and slamming itself onto them. Multiple metaphysical chains appeared out of swirling purple portals and latched on to every part of Enot as they rose in the air. “what-what is this? wat r u doing to me?” The pieces of the shoe began to fall away, the various powerful alloys and components clattering on the floor below. Soon enough, only the bare essentials on Enot’s feet was left.

“The Night’s Shadow… I was surprised to learn that you mothered a child, but I was more surprised that someone like you could be so rash and get into a yeezy you could not possibly have trained to control.” Inv muttered. “A shoe like this is one I would want no one to touch. Normally, I would be the one to end ya, but…” she looked over at Nightcat. “I think someone here deserved vengeance upon the one who killed her mother.” With a flick of her fingers, the illusion of the steel boots faded away like a shimmering mirage, revealing shoes made of pure voidmetal and coated in compound karmic gold alloy, six slots carved in ready to receive power. “I would be happy to oblige.” Nightcat smirked.

“No! u cant do this to me! you… i should have not entertained that thief’s last wishes.” Enot’s mouth contorted into a snarl, but this time more akin to that of a cornered lizard. “i should have dug my hands into the slugcat’s abdomen, and pull ur limp fetal body out before u have a chance to ever be alive!!! i would have enjoyed the sound of squleching on my feet, as I stamp your premature flesh into a fine pink paste!”

Nightcat sighed. “Y’know, I never gave you a name, since you have been using my mothers. Might as well give you one before you are gone. How about… Jimbo? Does that sound like a good name?” She smiled at the puppeted body of her mother, which has now just been reduced to incomprehensible snarling. “Actually, I don’t really give a sh*t. You can burn in hell for all I care.” The six stones slotted into a singular shoe, emitting a cosmic glow as the dark slugcat winced and slowly lifted up her left feet. “Time to send you to the shadow realm, Jimbo.「Beam Attack」ゴゴゴゴ”

Cosmic energy surged as Nightcat stomped her shoe on the ground, slightly wincing still upon hearing the voice of her mother wail and shriek in agony. Slowly, each component of the shoe that had masqueraded as Enot for her entire life faded away into dust. As the strange computational chip covered by the orange and beige platings turned into dust as well, she swore she heard two synthetic sighs of relief. At last, Enot’s body went limp as the last of the shoe was blown away in the wind, dropping on the ground lifeless.

Nightcat stared at the body of her mother glumly. She was not a corpse, not yet; She was breathing, chest slowly expanding and contracting. A more appropriate term would be “comatose”, for while the shoe kept Enot’s body fit and relatively healthy, the mind was gone even before she was born. For all she cared about, her mother was well and truly dead. “Shoe or not, I tell ya, Enot lead a formidable presence in the underworld.” Inv suddenly made a comment. “I don’t think we could get peace for months thanks to the vacuum they created.”

Silently, Nightcat willed the purple, blue, and red stone out of the boot. “Not sure if my mother would appreciate us looting them… but I think you deserved this.” Inv solemnly nodded, having them float in her hands. “Go pawn them off, use them, whatever. I really only have one thing left in mind to do with these things.”

“I… think I understand what you are about to undertake.” Inv eyed at the remaining gems, knowing full well why Night kept the one for time, mind, and soul. “Just… be careful, alright? Don’t let that thing have the chance to rise again.” With that, the blue stone glowed and Inv was enshrouded in a stormy mist, before the portal collapsed and now Nightcat was alone.

This might kill her, but it was a risk she was willing to take, if it meant they could… Nightcat shook the tears off. They need to concentrate. Balancing out the three gems across the boots, she activated all three at once, willing for Enot’s age and damage done to their brain to revert, willing for the memories of their time together to be flooded into their mind, willing for their soul to return from the cycle or oblivion. Nightcat screamed in pain as tendrils spread across her leg, her very soul rending into pieces just to keep this going. Slowly, she could see that Enot was getting younger. Wrinkles started to disappear, patches of greyed or discolored fur returned to a velvet much like her own, scars shrink down into nothing. As Nightcat felt her identity was about to be shattered into a million shards, she dropped to the ground, panting. Slowly, she crawled towards Enot, who slowly stirring into consciousness.

As she approached her mother, Enot suddenly shot awake shouting. “U cant do this to me! U cant do this to m-” The indigo slugcat looked frantically around, one hand instinctively over their flat abdomen. “wanderer… my pup… protect…” they were hyperventilating, but Nightcat only watched with emotional turmoil, holding in her breath to see if it had worked. Slowly, Enot started to calm down. “where am i? who r you? why cant i feel my pup…?”

“Shes right here.” Nightcat croaked, voice choked with emotion. Enot looked confused, then the dark slugcat’s heart soared when a glimmer of recognition came into their eyes, the thief wincing and putting a hand over her forehead. “Agh… i… remember. ur… ur nightcat. i… it hurts to think, but u r my daughter, righ-”

Nightcat cut them off, tackling the much younger version of her mother in a hug, letting the tears freely flow. “Welcome back, mom.”

Chapter 7: Vibrant Sunset upon Windswept Grove

Chapter Text

“And… here we are!”

Night’s own exhaustion was showing, the strenuous hike up the mountain certainly taking the air out of the adolescent slugcat. “Yup, yup, I hear ya. I just… huff… puff… need to get over the last stretch.” She muttered in between large gasps, trying to catch her breath and regain some stamina. With a final raw grit and determination, they ascended the last steps up the mountain trail to see Wheel waving at her, the yellow slugcat’s grin almost eye-to-eye. Nightcat sighed, walking over to the fallen log he had set up for both of them to sit down, taking in the scenery.

It was… stunning. A view that made her want to take up sketching like Gourmand had even though Night had no such interests before. The sun dangled on a rare cloud-sparse sky, turning the surrounding a rich, deep orange. The cloud buildup from the fortress almost looked like the tides of an ocean, the cloud’s fringes breaking in streaks of pink wisps much akin to waves breaking into foam on the beach. The jungle that lies beneath the steep slope of the rocky cliff was a blanket of red and brown, save for the fruiting pods of the orbtrees that shone brilliantly above the canopies, a sight to be transformed into an umbral void encrusted with yellow stars when night would approach, giving guide freely to the weary who sought shelter.

“Wow…” Night whispered in total astonishment, causing Wheel to slightly snicker. “See? I told you that going here today would be perfect.” The dark slugcat rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I guess you have guessed right on when we should go sightseeing.”

“Now, Nighty, that’s not very sincere.” Wheel teased. “You have to say it properly.”

Night crossed her arms. “Fine. Youmumble grumblethe weathergrumble grumblepiss baby.”

“You are hardly even audible there. C’mon, say it out loud.” Wheel chuckled.

“YOU ARE RIGHT ABOUT THE WEATHER AND I AM WRONG TO CALL YOU A STUPID LITTLE PISS BABY!” Nightcat shouted, causing Wheel to giggle. “Now that’s more like it.” Wordlessly, the dark slugcat snorted and began to unpack her satchel, ready to eat their packed dinners up here. Nothing too special, they just grabbed two packs of blue lizard jerky from the storerooms alongside some dried poleplant leaf for the fibers in their diet. The yellow slugcat hummed a cheery tune as they set out a woven cloth tarp on the log, unfurling two rolls of poleplant leaves and doling out the portions of lizard jerky wrap for both of them to eat.

Night stared at her own portion of lizard wrap being served, but the young slugcat’s eyes involuntarily drifted up Wheel's arms and onto his face, one blissfully unaware that he had gotten an admirer. Her breath briefly hitched, knocked off course by the sudden increase in heart rate as her lungs adjusted to this new rhythm. Night absentmindedly picked up her wrap while trying her hardest to ignore the feelings of batflies in her stomach. She had felt this not-quite-unpleasant sensation several times before but never told anyone, for her chatterbox of a mother would probably expose her hidden feelings towards Wheel to the entire tribe before she could even blink. While she was not paying attention to the balance of the wrap, a few pieces of dried meat fell out of the open end of the vine bundle, Night had not wrapped it properly thanks to her attention being misplaced.

Nightcat groaned as her eyes shifted to the floor, the pieces of jerky lying in a patch of moss on the rock face and slightly dirtied by grains of fine sand. “Five-second rule!” Wheel exclaimed, diving down to scoop up the sullied lizard meat and brushing them off with his fingers to get rid of the dust residues now clinging on to the chunks of blue lizard leg meat. “You know that was just a rule made up by pups for pups, right?” Nightcat playfully scoffed, but a tinge of worry and care was evident in her voice. “You will still get very sick if you eat stuff on the ground if you don’t clean it properly.”

“Do you think our forerunners cared about something as nitty-gritty as that?” Wheel waved dismissively. “They are true survivors, and if they don’t eat enough food, they will DIE!” The pale yellow adolescent said in a dramatic tone, mind stuck in an idealized image of an epic and gritty past that he had always had a fascination with. “I’m gonna become one of those wanderers one day, to make the wilderness my own and haul entire dead lizards with just one arm!” Collector tried his hardest to flex his quite frail and weak arms, attempting desperately to tone what little muscle he had developed. Night burst out in a fit of hollering laughter, much to Wheel’s incense.

“Bahahahahahahaha!! Oh, I think you need a bit more than a few hunting sessions to make your image actually match that of those seen-it-all adventurers.” Night covered her mouth to muffle her chuckle. “Maybe you should ask Gourmand what he did other than eating lots of food. He may be chubby, but his strength…” Wheel did not appear to appreciate how she said that, huffing and crossing his arms in defense. “What, do you like someone with Gourmand’s looks?”

“Oh, no.” Night shook her head. “Even if I was an adult, I doubt I would be into him. He is… bulky, to be sure, and I am sure plenty of scugs would swoon at that sight alone, but… it's just not for me, y’know?” She found it strange that a sort of tension was released from the pale yellow slugcat’s body, as if he was hoping for that answer. Was he…? Nah, she’s probably just overthinking it. “By the way, Wheely,” she playfully commented, “it has been a lot longer than five seconds since you grabbed the lizard jerky.”

“...sh*t.”

With a sigh, the pale yellow slugcat tossed the two hunks of salted lizard meat into the expanse below the cliffs. “Hopefully some green lizard would find that a tasty morsel.” The two munched through their assembled wraps, submerged in a comfortable silence. Wheel was, of course, the first one to finish with his meal. “Say, Night, my mom said that you would be the trail leader for the way back during the night. You sure you got the map memorized?”

“Mhm!” The dark slugcat nodded, mouth still full of food. After a few seconds of chewing and swallowing, Night finally responded properly. “Don’t worry about it. I got every detail down right here.” She boasted pridefully, tapping her skull. “I am gonna be a sentry for a reason, y’know? Just follow my lead, and we would be back on the trail to the colony in no time!”

“I hope there are not any predators lurking out here now. I get that it's lizard brooding season and most of them are underground guarding their eggs…” Wheel mused. “but I heard some rumor that there was a nest of spiders discovered nearby recently. I hope we can avoid them as best as we can, cuz…” the yellow adolescent shuddered, his tail’s fur slightly puffing up. “I am notscaredscared, but they give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. I don’t like them too much either.” Night muttered. “Better sharpen your spear, as centipedes may be out and about as well. I would have a lot to explain to your parents if I had to drag your fried body back to the colony.” With a smile, Wheel pulled out the spear he had been using as a hiking stick for the expedition here, brushing off the grime on the sharp end of the weapon to let it slightly glint in the light of dusk. “My spear skills has been honed quite a bit with Dragon Slayer. If there's an enemy my way, I’m gonna… WHAM!” the yellow slugcat jabbed at an invisible threat ahead with a surprising amount of force considering the lack of musculature, clearly wishing to impress his skills. “If you ever need rescuing, I’m gonna be your scug in shining armor, running whatever predator that was entrapping you through!”

“Don’t push your luck, survivor boy.” Night rolled her eyes. “I’m no spear chump, and I can handle the errant spider or centipede just fine.” The slugcat went back to finish the last chunks of her assembled wrap still held in her hands, chewing the food as she appreciated observing the sunset vista with only one other. It had felt like both forever and just an instant ago that she went out on her first expedition, from when she was a nameless pup dragged along by her parents to see whatever sights they or their group had wished. Time runs fast, and by the next time they would be here, they would have…

“A pearl for your thoughts?” Wheel called out to his friend, knowing by her often existential rants that such a view was doomed to trigger some tirade of philosophy and life, something she would often waste a sizable fraction of the day on to anyone who could sit still and listen. The slugcat had joked that such a skill was essential for a job as menial as a sentry, standing around doing nothing but patrol and keeping watch all day with only their own mind and conversations to keep company, but the depths she delves into these topics had made even the receptive talkers a little bit afraid. He finds the topics hard to catch up with, sure, but just hearing Night ramble on all enthused makes him feel all warm inside.

“We were only allowed out here unsupervised because most of the lizards had gone underground and were not prowling around. We can have supervised visits with an adult chaperone, sure, but it was just… not the same, y’know?” Wheel’s breath slightly got funny for a moment, but Night was too immersed in her debate to notice. ”After the eggs hatch and the lizards come back out the ground again, I don’t think any of the elders would allow adventures like these to happen in good conscience. And by the time they go back under again… we would be adults already.”

“Oh.” Wheel muttered, feeling the passage of time sinking into him. “Right… the maturation ceremony for both of us would happen within the next hundred or so cycles, huh? That’s… I am not sure how to feel about it.” The yellow slugcat looked down at his spear with now a mix of emotions. “I am… excited, sure, I would love to be a hunter, but… don’t you think I need more time to train? More time than the a hundred cycles I got left?”

“What do you mean?” Night inquired.

I mean… look at me right now. I am nowhere as fit as I had wished to be at this point, and looking at how soon I would have to accept my role I only realize how much catching up I need to do.” Collector rambled, waving one of his hands around and gesturing. ”I mean even look at my mentor Dragon Slayer. Compared to him, I am nothing. With only this little time left, would I even be skilled enough to carry that role? I look at the hunters and gatherers of my tribe, and then at myself, and still feel like I am a pup wearing a cloak that felt too big for-”

“Hey.” Night patted Wheel’s shoulder, a light smile on her face. “Where did my rugged survivor pounding his chest go? You have all the bravado and determination to tread in their footsteps, I’m sure of it more than ever.” Wheel blushed profusely as the dark slugcat made her move, caressing the slugcat’s face with gentle affection. “C’mon. Think of the bright side! Imagine all the cool things you can do when you become an adult. There will be a huge party after the ceremony, imagine the celebrations they would have set up for all of us. I know your mom well, she would be crying her eyes out seeing her youngest pup finally growing up to be his own slug.”

“Y-yeah…” Wheel mumbled out, slightly flustered. “Being an adult would have its bonuses as well. We can just head out and wander around without the tribe worrying.” He paused, suddenly thoughtful. “Shame that we have to play dress-up with the new names now. I mean, Collector is cool and all, I guess, but… Night and Wheel just rolls off the tongue so well, y’know?”

“You know that most pups don’t share your view, right? My older sister could not have waited a second longer to shed her pup name. I mean, she was named Tenebris which was honestly a bad choice on my dad’s part, but most would jump at the chance for their new---and usually cooler---name.” The dark slugcat looked downwards at the scenery while discussing this topic. “I… hated my adult name as well when my parent pitched the idea. I mean, what kinda name is ‘Watcher’? All slugcats can watch, it's built into us since we are born! What’s next? The Walker? The Breather? The Eate-” Night paused. “Actually, scratch that, Gourmand’s name is basically just a synonym of the last one, isn’t it?”

Collector snickered at that, covering his mouth as he packed up the gear he brought out for the dinner. “Anyways, that’s not my point.” Night declared, slightly annoyed. “Looks like I am not the only one with uncreative names, sure, but I am not talking about that. After my mom suggested that name to me and I found that other names like ‘Sentry’ or ‘Guard’ or ‘Sentinel’ were already taken up by someone in the past two generations, the name Watcher began to grow on me. Like, picture this.” She gestured her hands, weaving together a hypothetical tale. “A sentinel of silence that looms over the tribe like a shadow subsuming the colony like a bubble of ink, her eyes omnipresent such that you could never tell if she was watching you or not. Oooooooo~” Night raised both her hands to do the spooky fingers, evidently very into this persona she had crafted for herself.

“Honestly, Nighty? Sometimes I think you are more obsessed with this whole ‘darkness’ schtick even more than my deal with surviving! What, are you gonna dress dark as well? Grow out your head fluff? Spiked bracelets?” Wheel joked, causing Night to mock huff and shove him away. “Alright, alright, sore issue, I get it.” The yellow slugcat chuckled. “Alright… what else is gonna be given at the ceremony… you can have proper mates now… the whole thing with wandering… oh right! We are gonna get our gender!” The yellow slugcat slapped his forehead in realization. “Opinions?”

“It’s so weird to think that for all the “he” and “she” talk we had, both of us are as genderless as the newborn pups in the nursery in the eyes of the tribal customs.” Night commented. “Why not just make the gender thing another ceremony for younger pups? Why muddle it with the other privileges adults would be gifted at the maturation ceremony?”

“Well, it is not like we really abide by that too closely. Like I get it was extremely hard to tell when we were newborns, but I could tell I was male hundreds of cycles before this supposed day that I was supposed to get my gender.” Wheel suddenly realized something, quickly appending to fix his statement. “I mean, maybe they delay it so much for edge cases like you? Cause even though the healers gave up back then and just called you a ‘she’, you still are… both, right? I still don’t really get how your conditions work.”

“Don’t worry, me neither.” Night shrugged. “The healer said that since I can make pups that I am female, so… I just accepted that. No real reason to argue. Plus, it is not like you don’t have a point there. Waiting around didn’t really make the rare uncategorizable go away, I have been growing for three hundred good cycles since they identified this complication and I am no less an enigma.” She spoke. “When the time comes, honestly, my opinions will not change. We knew who we were long before any cultural customs proclaimed us, and it would only affirm what we already accepted as truth.”

“Well… I had to say, you were always one to hold engaging talks.” Wheel stood up, stretching his back. “We better head back soon. The less time we tread in absolute darkness, the better. Drink up the last bit of the sunset view, and I will be up ahead when you are ready.” Night nodded, suddenly feeling… extremely clammy. Unlike the fluency she had spoken with moments before, the dark slugcat felt like she may just vomit up her dinner. This… was perfect, the right moment. A perfect place to confess her feelings, and… she just could not build up the courage for it, to finally lay her cards on the table and request for reciprocation, no more games or subtle flirts or test that she could lie awake at night and ponder the possible causes for reactions over.

Such courage is something she would have had in no small supply if she were able to just nab a bit of Wheel’s. A wave of shame washed over Night, seeing as he stood oblivious in preparation for the journey home, knowing none the wiser of the depths of her infatuation. “Wheel. There is… something I would like to talk about.” Saying those words made Night feel as if their throat was scrunching up, becoming hard even to swallow saliva as her heart raced faster and faster. There is still time to back out of this. Improvise some philosophical diatribe. Reuse an old joke. Check equipment or discuss training. Whatever she did, she knew that the next statement was going to be the point of no return. “Oh? What was it, Nighty?”

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, Night got ready to pass the threshold. “Wheel… I have been struggling to say this for a long, long time. I am not even sure when I first got the thought of this, but… I like you. More than what one normally beheld for a friend.” The slugcat felt all her courage draining away, her neck feeling like holding up an entire mountain and unable to look into Wheel’s eyes. “I mean- I liked you as a friend for all my life. We have been best buds since we were young pups. But… then I felt something more and liked you a lot and wanted to look at you constantly and cant get you out of my mind and then I was like y’know I am a she right so that means I have shot with you in the future but then I am like no that is a bad thought to have why are you thinking this about a friend thats weird and gross but I just wanted to say this out there because we have been alone too many times and every time I just stop myself from staying it and I stay up all night questioning your every little move and if that means you are into me and I can’t take it anymore and want to get it over with so just know that I like you a lot and just want to know if you feel the same way.” Nightcat heaved, quite out of breath from her panicked ramblings. “Huff… puff…alright, that should be everything.”

“Wow… that… sure is a lot you had to hold in there,” Collector said, emotions unreadable. “Tell me about it.” Night muttered, head still bowed down. “Regardless, it is all out there now. If you can no longer see me as a friend after this… then I apologize for ruining everything between us.” Wheel quickly raised his hands in front of him, trying to console the dark slugcat. “No! No! Everything is fine! I am flattered about what you spilled out, I really am. It's just that…” Night winced, ready for the rejection that these sorts of consolations were known to follow. “I thought… we were already a thing?”

“What.”

“Like… I thought it was pretty cut and clear that we liked each other.” Collector tried to explain himself. “This was like, what, our third date now? Fourth if you really wanted to count the thing during the full moon feast as one.”

“You… so this was a date?” Night said incredulously, the conversation feeling almost surreal as her expectations went topsy-turvy. “Yeah… I invited you out for a date, you happily obliged, we hiked out here, and… we had a date. That’s how it works, right?”

“I thought… this was like a friends hangout… or something.” The dark slugcat mumbled, slowly realizing how little sense this string of words made. A friends hangout? With just the two of them, centered around sitting in scenic secluded places and talking alone? That sounded about as date-y as it could get, just… maybe she had been too nervous or too ingrained in her own thoughts to see the signs. She had thought that Wheel was being kind as usual, but…

“Wait, how come we didn’t like, kiss or something? If this was our third date?” Night suddenly piped up, suspicions rising. “Did Pondskipper send you out here to prank me or something? Tell me the truth.” Collector laughed with slight unnerve. “N-no, it’s just… I thought you wanted it slow, so I just didn’t bother to ask. I like what we already share as friends, and I wanted to make sure you are willing to be comfortable with getting more touchy as well.”

“Oh really now?” Night grinned, part mischief and part incredulity, a plan brewing in her mind. “If we are truly dating, then surely you won’t mind if I do… THIS?” She stepped forward with a confident stride, hugging the yellow slugcat and planting a kiss square in the face, releasing all of the pent up romantic feelings that she had for him across all this time. Night saw Wheel’s eyes shrink in bewilderment, before closing his eyelids and leaning in, hugging the dark slugcat as lips met lips. In the darkness only faintly illuminated by what rays of light slipped past Night’s closed eyes, red with the filter of skin. This moment of catharsis felt both instantaneous and eternal, centuries passed in this thought space of abstraction submerged within the deeply visceral sensation sourced from her corporeal form.

Night finally pulled away, face flushed red and gasping for air. “Oh… oh dear… so you are serious about all this.” Wheel nodded, weakly smiling. “Always am. I am sorry for not being clear sooner, but… at least we are now on the same page.”

The dark slugcat suddenly looked down, shame spreading across her face. “Our first kiss… and it was because I could not trust you… what does this mean for us?” She sighed, still content but wishing that such an act would have been based on more mutual grounds.

“I thought that we were on our third date, remember?” Wheel grinned. “To me, our thing has been going strong for a while now. Plus, what was this anecdote you said before? It goes something like…uhh…” The yellow slugcat stumbled, searching for the right words. “Ah, right, If two slugcats kissed in the woods and no one saw it happen, did the kiss really happen?” Night rolled her eyes in annoyance. “That isn’t even an apt adaption of the question I asked! The inherent existence of the two observers---said two slugcats---guarantees the existence of the kiss regardless of external-” She paused in her ramble, realizing the true meaning behind his words and smiled. “You know what? No, you are right. The kiss would not have happened.”

“Let’s do it properly, then. Make this official.” Wheel smiled, leading Night onto the edge of the cliff, overlooking the last remnants of the sun fading into the horizon. “You know how the adults do the oaths or whatever? I think that could be fun for our true first kiss.”

“Might as well.” Night smirked. “We are going to use these new names for each other for the rest of our lives, after all. You start first.”

“Alright, alright,” a low chuckle came from Wheel’s throat. “I, Collector, son of Snapthorn and Starcatcher, future hunter and gatherer of the Tribe of the Verdant Expanse, affirm my partnership with Watcher.”

She could already picture that vow being said for real when they were to become an adult and do this performance in front of a live audience, and Night smiled at the finality of that thought. With a deep breath, she spoke her part. “And I, Watcher, daughter of Gravedigger and Marksmen, future sentry and guard of the Tribe of the Verdant Expanse, affirm my partnership with Collector.”

Silence emanated through the vast openness as Collector and Watcher looked at each other, the two partners now knowing full well of the true depth of their affection for the other. “You may kiss the bride.” Watcher mocked, imitating the most deep masculine voice she could manage. In the gleam of sunset, Collector broke out a laugh, shaking his head before leaning in for both of their philosophically-sound actual first kiss. Somehow, the passion that flared within her and Collector was somehow even more profound than before as they came together, the romanticism flowing deep within the two slugcat’s veins.

As they finally pulled apart, Collector only had a look of pure bliss on his face. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Save that talk for the maturation ceremony.” Watcher muttered, content evident. “For now… let’s spend our last few cycles as Wheel and Night together.”

As the first green stars poked through the fading lights of dusk, Night and Wheel lightly chuckled to each other as they donned their equipment and got ready for the light-deprived navigation back to their colony. The sounds of chatter slowly faded as the pair moved further and further away from the grove atop the cliff, only the sound of wildlife accompanying the empty scenery. Finally, as the sun was subsumed below the horizon, night fell upon the land for the time being, the sea of orb trees glowing through the canopies coming to life as promised and yet viewed by naught.

Chapter 8: To Find One's Way

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: The Descent of Moon

Chapter Text

Looks To The Moon stood in front of the cave entrance, where the purported entrance to the Rubicon resides. Her pilgrimage here was short, but she came here for a good reason, for not even as a god of the above was she immune to the grief of loss. She had watched Sliver of Straw’s lifeless puppet body burning away into ashes on the pyre, and she had not been the same since. Slowly, this grief consolidated and crystallized into nothing but determination. Against the dissuasions of her peers and her own attendant, Rivulet, she has decided that she will take Sliver of Straw back into the world of the living, whatever it takes.

As she trod down the cave tunnels, the bioluminescent moss and the occasional spider that dwelled near the borehole’s mouth quickly vanished, the air turning stale and musty. As the cavern continues to wind down and down, they reach the first wall, something she has records of. Like what the notes said, the archaic stone wall shook as an intricate mechanism unlocked a gemstone eye in the door, her sensitivity to the field of flux notifying her that an enchantment had been activated. “You stand at the precipice of Rubicon, godly visitor. To receive entry, shed one piece of your mortal visage.”

The blue iterator stared at the wall in an uncharacteristic anger. “I will do no such thing. Let me through now, or else.” Looks To The Moon suddenly felt a chill in the air as the walls became frosted with ice. “Very well.” The wall coldly said. “We will see who yields first.” The iterator had packed plenty of equipment and mechanical muscle into this form, striking at the wall with the power of a hydraulic jackhammer. Initially, her heart rose at the sign of success, but dismay was soon painted on her face as whenever her hand was to be recharged, she would turn back to see the wall had been fully healed.

Moon punched, kicked, slammed, and the wall did not yield. She attempted to plant explosives, and it healed the moment she approached the apparent breach. She would have liked to use the full firepower of an iterator to get through, but she knew it would be a waste of resources, for this was only the first of at least eight walls. The iterator huffed, finally relenting by taking off her pendant. “Fine, take thi-” As she turned back to her front, she saw that she was no longer holding the amulet, the door now wide open for her to pass.

As she passed by the fourth door, she was forced to relinquish her cloak. Now she walked stark naked, the still air of the tunnel brushing past her mechanical chassis. The tunnels gained a sulfurous scent, only more signs that the Rubicon was drawing closer. The fifth door asked of the same thing. “Give us a piece of your mortal visage.” Looks To The Moon did not look amused, gesturing to her clothless body and showing that she had none left to give. However, the wall did not let up.

“You still have so much of yourself left to relinquish, little god.” The enchanted wall spoke. “Or do you truly consider your mortal form a part so essential to yourself that your soul had alloyed with your physical interface?” After some deliberation, Moon sighed, understanding what the wall wanted. With a deep breath, she placed her hand upon her right antenna, clutching it tightly within her segmented fingers. She ensured to grab onto it as firm as possible, because what she was going to do nexthurtsand she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. With a violent tug, the metal holding the blade antenna in place yielded, snapping off as she grunted in pain. She fell on one knee, but the antenna was separated, the mycelial wires still sparking with electricity. “Here…” Moon hissed, trying to recuperate from her injuries as the next door opened.

The next few doors were the same, and a body part or plating was sacrificed for each gate in order to shed identity. Moon was left barely alive as she hobbled onwards, her finger platings missing, various internal mechanisms exposed with the plating peeled off, struggling to keep her organs from spilling out with one of her chest casings taken away. However, she was still alive, and still determined. Past the outer gates of Rubicon was a hellish field, a short path of crumbling structures leading directly to an extravagant palace. Well, a palace would not be doing it justice fully, for from the view of others this citadel would also be a fortress. Void fluid-infused lava flowed down the ancient bricks of the outer walls, pooling into a moat surrounding this extravagant-looking structure. The style of the walls, the outcroppings, the towers, all of it were alien to her omniscient eye. Was this how the dead constructed their homes? As the worn-down iterator walked through the castle's front gate, a loud, booming voice rang out in her mind.

“A new soul has entered my domain, wishing to go before their time.” The voice spoke. “What does it want, I wonder? Come into my chambers, and witness me.” Despite all the power Moon held as a divine iterator, the voice felt oppressing and abrasive, as if her godliness was all but naught compared to this entity. Reluctantly, Moon held on to her determination to reunite with the love unfairly taken from her, footfalls firm even if it meant she had to hold in her own organs as the platings of her chest were taken from her during the passage into the gates.

The iterator came upon an impossibly large door, decorated in archaic symbols and depictions. The center of the doorframe was an eye, the center carved into a karma ten symbol. Orbiting around the eye was a circle of various entities, some of which she recognized as what her creators had depicted as death personified. A hooded figure with a scythe, a giant serpent that spiraled into infinity, a mechanical assembly, a parchment of abstract symbols, a wireframe dodecahedron with fractal jagged eyes, these depictions alongside various others gave Moon a horrific sense of dread. What could be the owner of the voice behind that door? Could she even handle it? The fact that she was even considering said possibility despite her power in the overworld only demonstrated further how much dread she felt with this expedition.

As she grunted to push the door open, the iterator stumbled and fell forward into the chamber. An elegant carpet laid out on the floor, initially appearing to be made out of some animal’s hide but upon closer inspection was a weave of void flux strands. Down the grandiose hallway was a throne of voidmetal, where a green slugcat sat in the cushioned seat, luscious fur hiding three marks on her forehead. “Welcome, Looks To The Moon.” The slugcat spoke in fluent ancient. “I was not expecting a god of the above to spare a day to visit me. For what business have you come here for?”

“Who… are you?” Moon said incredulously. The green slugcat frowned, before lightly chuckling. “Now, a deity like you should know some manners. I am not sure how you gods up there interact with each other, but asking a deity who they are right in front of their corporeal form was not exactly good etiquette. Though,” the strange slugcat paused, “you are still young. I will just notify you of your mistake and attribute it to the simple immaturity of childhood. One could call me many things, for I am the ruler of the Rubicon, the Triple Affirmative, the queen of the dead, the Mistress of Dread, the Entropic Terminus, the Eventual Host of All Guests, and many more titles and mindless platitudes. But for us, between gods,” She tilted her head, “you could call me Saint.”

Moon narrowed her eyes. “Alright, ‘Saint’, I am here only to make demands.” She spat as the green slugcat continued to look unamused. “You have unfairly taken my lover away from me, and I wish for her to be brought back to me to the mortal realm.” Saint, however, did not seem to get intimidated by this gesture. “I apologize, madam, but that is an unjust task opposing my duties. She died of her own meddlings with the web of flux, and I took her soul away as her body rejected its duty as a vessel. To undo the order of nature is to forsake my existence.”

“But surely you do understand, from god to god?” Moon demanded, ready to initiate attack at any moment as negotiations fell through. “I understand if a mortal demanded as such, but surely something could be arranged for us gods? I am willing to sacrifice whatever I have in order for you to bring her ba- Hold on. Are you laughing?” Moon looked up angrily, seeing Saint almost on the verge of tears as she held back laughter with her hands. “Just what is so funny, ‘Saint’?”

“Look, look, Moon, I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” Saint replied jovially. “There has been a misunderstanding, and as courteous as I am, I will fix it. See, when I call you and your machine kin ‘gods’, it is more of a matter of… etiquette.” Saint gestured. “Though in my eyes you were as mortal as the last batch of entities who called themselves gods, and the ones before them, and the ones before them, I have just the slightest more respect for you types to call you by your self-proclaimed designations.” Saint smiled coldly, gripping the armrest on her throne. “Do not confuse my kindness with actual admission of status.”

“Alright, that does it.” Moon snapped. “Last chance, hand me my girlfriend back, or I will have to force you to.” Saint sighed, smile dropping as the frail-looking slugcat stood up from her throne. “You do not want to do this.”

Within a flash of a second, Moon flipped over her back gear to reveal a heavily modified flux discharge blaster, something she personally designed with No Significant Harassment to overclock until it would be enough to take on a god such as her. The hackneyed device of refined compound steel and superconducting flux propagators sparked to life within a fraction of a second, the flux cells draining as an enormous deathray of pure void energy blasted out of her cannon. She knew that the slugcat form was not what she appeared to be, but a blast like this would do some serious damage to karmic beings such as this “Saint”.

As the smoke cleared, Moon’s heart dropped; not because she was unsuccessful, but the exact opposite. The throne was completely destroyed, a smoldering mess of melted voidmetal slag and burnt cushions. The brick wall caved into the blast and revealed the hallways and corridors behind the throne room leading to the inner sanctum. And worst of all, a small, fine pile of soot laid where Saint once stood. Moon started to panic. Had she overestimated this goddess of death? She only intended to injure her enough for her to spill the beans, not kill her! What does killing death even mean? Can Saint come back from this? How does she know where to find Sliver now without a guide? Moon slowly breathed in and out, trying to calm her racing heart. No. Yeah. This is fine. She can… just search for herself. See where in the building is a map, find where Sliver is located and reunite with her. She could deal with the consequences of killing death lat-

“I will be taking this, thank you.” Moon turned around in surprise to see that the weight of the blaster had been lifted off her shoulders. The green slugcat stood behind her, completely unharmed, holding her prized possession. Moon tried to dive at her and snatch the gun back, but it was as if she was moving in slow motion, even gravity refusing to abide by its natural jurisdiction as her sprung legs froze in midair. With a sauntering walk, Saint admired her creation. “Hmm… interesting design. I had not seen someone go down this route for quite a few civilizations now.” Saint caressed the heavily augmented weapon. “Still… it is so… unrefined.”

Moon gasped in time-dilated shock as Saint put her hands on either side of the gun, and crushed the heavy-duty compression-resistant alloy plating into a ball of scraps as if it was made of paper mache. The unspent power cells had their containment chambers broken, subsuming the material in a swirl of chaotically diverging energy. However, Saint held it within her hand as if it were some mundane object like a fruit. “Now this is how you properly use flux.” Saint lobbed the blue sphere of energy at Moon, time unfreezing as the gravitational implosion first sucked Moon into a vortex, then flung Moon into where the throne once was.

The iterator’s optical visors glitched, patches of static and warped vision clouding her cracked sensors, her singular antenna buzzing errant auditory signals into her consciousness. As she tried to stagger back up against the slowly approaching Saint, she realized that chains had been tied to her ankles, her arms, her neck. They tighten, Moon grunting in futile resistance as they played her like a marionette, forcing her into a position on her knees with arms to her side and head facing up at Saint. She was floating, and her eyes flickered between blue and yellow at a rapid pace. “I was planning to let you go.” Saint’s voice magnified itself, icy-cold words so sharp they could cut through steel. “I understood the grief of love, and I would have left you into the above realm despite your invasion of my domain. Yet, you push and push, and now you have no other options left.”

Saint raised her hand, a rapidly spinning golden disk appearing out of her palm. “Let this be a lesson to the rest of your kind. To meddle with the affairs of random gods is only to seek death. Rest in peace.” The golden halo approached closer and closer, and with a bright green flash, Moon’s antenna reported the sound of a loud PING. However, as the signal was compiled and prepared to send itself into Moon’s core, it failed as the connections that once facilitated Moon’s body parts from communicating with each other were severed. Looks To The Moon, for all meanings of the word, was dead.

Seven Red Suns stood below a vat of yellow, translucent liquid. Within was a strange purple slugcat, tails full of sharp needles that can pierce metal. It was curled up in fetal position, unaware of its form or identity and the unconscious mind simply believed that it was an unborn pup floating in silent contentment, waiting for the beckoning call of its mother to come into the world. However, they knew that the waking mind would be one very different. They created every part of them, after all.

With the disappearance of Moon, they must take action. They were quite far from the entrance to Rubicon, but they were a master of bioengineering, and they were sure the specimen in front of them was their greatest creation. A mind built for nothing but battle, they were equipped with a will strong enough to take on the gods head-on without flinching. Upon their awakening, what remains of the nascent subconscious would be overwhelmed and subsumed by the true pilot, wishing for nothing but to battle the concept of death itself to rescue the grand iterator. The purple slugcat gently stirred, all biometric signs showing that the subject had reached maturity. Suns reached up, caressing the glass container’s surface to reach at the life within one last time.

“Arise, Spearmaster.”

With the verbal command, each of the wires disconnected one by one, starting from the brain activity scanners and slowly going down each of the needles and pads that monitored their vitality. Finally, the mechanical umbilical cord cauterized the connection point on the messenger’s abdomen and retracted into the vat’s side as the fluid drained away into various pipes. When the vat was about half full, the Spearmaster was still bobbling gently, unconscious but starting to take their first independent breath. The hatch of the vat hissed open, and the rest of the yellowish amniotic fluid poured out onto the floor and into the grates. The unconscious messenger fell, and…

…landed perfectly with one knee on the ground and one arm acting as support, eyes sharp and scanning the environment. “Spearmaster, reporting for duty.” The purple slugcat stood up with a military salute.

“Good… good… I think you are ready, my creation.” Spearmaster grinned, bearing lizard-like carnivorous teeth. “What is my job?”

Spearmasters stood in front of the cave, a backpack full of combat equipment in addition to their augmented body. They are on a path down a cave, and at the end of that cave is a palace. And in the heart of that palace is a god. They are here to slay her, or at least to incapacitate her enough to retrieve Looks To The Moon. They did not know her well, but the mission brief was enough to tell them that this grand iterator was important to the mortal world, and that her death would be disastrous. Two of their spears are already in hand, ready to be thrown at the nearest minion or guard who would dare oppose them, and the encounters they had up to this point had driven their anticipation for a proper fight.

As they sauntered into a cave, they see… a wall. One made out of ancient-looking stone bricks that block their path. As Spearmaster tried to find a crevice to wriggle around the barricade, the clockwork mechanism unsheathed a gem on the gate, the engravings surrounding it making it look like an eye. “You stand at the precipice of the Rubicon, purposed visitor. To receive entry, shed one piece of your mortal visage.” The eyes on the walls whispered, a serene yet absolute tone filling the brim of Spearmaster’s consciousness. “...now, would cutting off a piece of my cloak work? That is a part of my garment alrigh-” Before they could finish their snide remarks, however, Spearmaster quickly lept back as red-hot spikes grew from the wall. “RESTRAIN YOURSELF, SPAWN OF THE GODS, FOR YOU ARE IN A DOMAIN NOT OF THEIR MAKING. Though she was not here to oversee for herself, we carry out the mistress’s laws in her place upon those who enter this land.”

“Alright, alright. Geez.” Spearmaster raised their hands up defensively. “Sooo… I will give you… my left bracelet? Does that count as a garment?” The wall, however, did not respond, but the messenger slugcat looked down to find that the bracelet was no longer in their palms, the gateway slowly rumbling open. “Okay… yeah, I could work with this.” Spearmaster readied their gear, stepping deeper and deeper into the cave tunnels to reach their rescuee.

After some time and some more undressing, Spearmaster reaches the sixth gate. “Give us a part of yo-” “My garments, yes.” Spearmaster interjected impatiently. “I mean, I get you are a wall and all, but you still have eyes, right? I am completely naked. Unless you wanna shave me down to my skin, this is about as little clothing I could have left. My equipments are a no-go. I will not be parting with them.” The wall remained silent for a moment, before speaking again. “Very well. Yet the rule still remains, and a piece of your appearance is needed. One’s body is merely a mask for the true entity behind the cycles, only a piece to create oneself’s physical vessel. If you truly wish so badly to not part with your gadgets, sacrifice a body part.”

After a bit of stunned silence, processing what the wall just said, Spearmaster tried to negotiate. “Look, I get your last visitor was that robot lady, right? She can take off parts of her just fine, but see, I am kind of an organic lifeform.” The slugcat demonstrated by slapping their wrist, which makes a fleshythwapsound as their hand impacted cushioned muscle and skin. “I have goopy things like blood and meat and bones under there, and they are, y’know, a bit hard to take off? Can we just make another deal to get past?”

“If you are not willing to shed your identity, a denizen of the living like you has no place intruding in her domain. Return to the surface the way you came and never come back.” The wall sternly warned. “Oh come on!” Spearmaster raised their arms in complaint. “Look, it is very dangerous if I try to cut something off! Like if I cut off my hand, I will surely bleed out to death! It is not like I can cut off a part of myself without any blee-” Spearmaster paused. No. Surely thiscan’twork… right? The purple slugcat concentrated, feeling a sharp protrusion slowly expanding within their tail. With a squeeze and a few gentle tugs to expedite the process of exiting their tail canal, Spearmaster stared down at their newly produced spear, a pink, fleshy strand connecting it to the interior of their tail. A smirk grew on Spearmaster’s face. “Suns, you cheeky bastard.”

With the next four gates, it was effectively a cakewalk. Each spear, technically a part of their body, was able to get them past with relative ease. Soon enough, they arrived at the extravagant palace of golden stones, striding through the defenseless exterior. As they wandered through the halls of this luxurious abode, they finally came upon a door filled with symbols. Now they do not know where this “goddess of death” lies, but they know that this door has HEAVY final boss vibes.

They looked down at their vast array of equipment. As the divine messenger of Seven Red Suns, they were born to rescue Moon, to return her to the land of the living. They imagined this divine beast lying behind the door, a skeletal behemoth with crowns, floating eyes, and countless arms wielding flaming blades. They shall climb up her arms while cloaked with invisibility, dodge and flip out of the way from the rubble that comes down from the heavens, and best her in combat by plunging into her ribcage and piercing her heart with a spear. Spearmaster could not help but feel pumped up by this imagined fight. They might have been born just days prior, but they could feel the spirit of battle in their soul. With an invigorated fervor, the purposed messenger kicked open the heavy stone doors, both weapons in hand to face down the colossu-

Hm.

That is a slugcat.

Spearmaster was miffed. “Is the queen of the dead, like, on vacation, or?” They asked at the green slugcat lying on the throne, looking down at them with some sort of amusem*nt. “I would like to book an appointment with her.” The green slugcat chuckled, covering her mouth with one hand in an elegant fashion. “Here, sit down. I think I can write out some paperwork to give you an audience with her.” With a snap of a finger, Spearmaster flinched as the dust in front of him began to fly into a ball, splitting and fragmenting until two plush chairs of gold solidified, sat across a small wooden table with a piece of empty parchment and a quill. “Take a seat,” the female slugcat offered. “I will be with you shortly.”

Well, now that Spearmaster thought about it, there would probably be some bureaucracy in the underworld. There were a lot of souls to manage, after all, one god would go mad trying to deal with it all. Strange that out of all of them she decided to use slugcats for this kind of work, though. Why not recruit some of their creators? Like they get they are gods and all… but they could make a trade deal or something to one or two of them to be, like, middle managers of hell or something. Now that would be a funny sight. An entire iterator can in this infernal realm. Soon, the green slugcat let herself off the throne, striding casually to the other side of the small circular table.

“So, uhh…” Spearmaster scratched the back of their head awkwardly as she sat down on the other side, casually waving her hand over the parchment to reveal a dense form of ancient text. “Do you have a name, or-” “Saint.” The green slugcat smiled. “Y-yeah, Saint, that’s… heh,” Spearmaster responded nervously. “That’s a cute name… I guess.”

Saint curiously co*cked her head sideways, looking past the purposed slugcat’s white eyes as if staring into their soul. “You look flustered!” Spearmaster’s eyes slightly widened, feeling a bit of heat overcoming their face as they stammered for words. “Me? Flustered, pshhh, nah, I-I am… ah, f*ck it.” The purple slugcat sighed deeply. “I am not very good at talking to other slugcats, alright? I only know slugcat at all because my god thought getting directions from others of my kind might be useful. I didn’t even expect to be talking anyone down here!” Spearmaster flipped their arms upwards in exasperation. “I just thought that I could, y’know, bust my way in here, kick that queen-of-the-dead’s ass to double-hell Shadow of the Colossus style, and lug Moon and her girlfriend outta here! I didn’t expect for all this talking to be happening down here when I was hankering for a fight!”

“You have attitude, I think she would admire someone so fearless against a god.” Saint smiled. “Right, I think I can arrange a good proper fight for you. First, I need to get some of your information down.” Spearmaster huffed in irritation, tapping their foot impatiently. “Why do we need a form anyway? Does she have so many wanting to meet her that she had to make a catalog?” The green slugcat barked out a laugh, eyes glinting with mischief. “To be honest? I think she just made this sh*t up on the spot to mess with those who think they have any right to demand something from her. But rules are rules, right?” She grinned, bearing teeth more resembling the sharp metal incisors of a miros vulture than the comparatively blunt tooth of a slugcat.

“I suppose so. But I wanted to ask you some questions as well…” Spearmaster mused, completely oblivious to the hidden meaning behind the slugcat’s words. “How about this? Every time I fill out one question on a form, you answer one of my asks.”

“Deal.” Saint put her elbows on the table, hands clasped together as she watched the form with the quill. “Alright… name… SRS-07 “Spearmaster”.” The purposed slugcat muttered, writing down their designation in proper ancient as if they have been trained to do so all the time. “Alright, my turn. So what is your relationship with the… hm. I never really knew her name, did I? I can probably ask that next.” Spearmaster scratched their chin. “What was your relationship with this ‘queen of the dead?’”

“Well… you can think of me as the one who fulfills her whims.” Saint placed a hand out. “So like an attendant,” Spearmaster responded. “Well…” Saint shrugged. “I suppose you could see it that way. She is a high-maintenance woman, you know. She has needs, but with a snap of my fingers,” Saint demonstrated, spawning a refined voidmetal jewel from thin air, “all her whims come true. It is kind of boring, honestly. Getting everything you want in an instant.” Spearmaster squinted at the odd wording, a bit confused by why she was speaking the opinions of her master’s situation. Whatever, though, it only makes sense for her to know a lot of the mistress. They know for a fact that she was no normal slugcat.

“Alright, I am satisfied with your answer.” Saint broke out into a slight snicker, using a hand to shield her eyes away from the purposed slugcat, but Spearmaster continued the form. “Species… slugcat…?” They turned their head up. “Hey, small clarification, is slugcat fine with you? I think I am a slugcat… but I know they don’t grow needles out of their tail or speak ancient.” Saint nodded. “Just say slugcat. She would not really care enough to differentiate between purposed and natural born. It does not matter when their soul leaves their body at the end of days, really.”

“Alright… slugcat. My turn for the second question.” Spearmaster looked back up. “How did you come to be? Now, cards on the table, Iknowyou are not any normal slugcat. I could not fathom if a slugcat somewhere just popped out a newborn version of you as a part of her litter. You have too much weird stuff going on to be anywhere near mortal.” Spearmaster slightly stood up, trying to get a position above her, and… was she always this tall? They swore she looked shorter on the throne. She looked as regal and elegant as she was before, but now slightly more slender, just enough for them not to be able to look below her as they slightly stood up. “...ahem, excuse me,” Spearmaster quickly sat back down, trying to regather their thoughts after that awkward moment, “If I were to guess, you were something like me, correct? Made by her to serve her purposes?”

“You could put it that way. You are correct, though, I am no mere mortal slugcat. I am glad you are smart enough to at least see that much.” Saint rested her chin on her hands again, returning to a look of simple interest at Spearmaster. “The mistress was quite bored with her usual selections, for she did not need much in her normal state. What does a god really want? Well, so she went wandering, to find something that could help her… well, want. Desire. And that was how I was born.” Saint raised a palm, pressing down on it with her other fingers to demonstrate her biological nature as the flesh slightly gave way under the pressure of her finger. “Now, despite the powers I was given, I was still physical. I was small. I was carnal. I was… comfortable. So she kept me around, as having me around allowed her to want, allowed her to feel more than she could before.”

“A… bit vague, but alright, it is a nice answer. Next question… gender…actually, I am just gonna give a freebie for this one. It is really not an answer anyway.” Saint enthusiastically nodded, signing for them to continue. “Non… applicable. Alright, next que-” Spearmaster rubbed their eyes, quite certain that they had misread the words on the paper. The symbols remained the same. “Ge-genome?”

“Yeah, genome!” Saint spouted cheerily. “You went to biology class, right?” Spearmaster squinted. “Alright, first of all, no. I did not go to biology class, as I was born thirty cycles ago and they do not exactly offer curriculum to creations of gods who were made to do one specific thing. I have read about it, though. Second of all, even IF I went to ‘biology class’ and somehow memorized my genome, this form only gave me one line to answer! How the hell am I supposed to get all those letters down?!”

“Oh, simple,” Saint said as Spearmaster stared intently at the form. “I put in some spare papers on the side of the table. You can take a piece or two to write out the full answer on there!” Spearmaster turned up to look at her, thinking she had somehow lost her mind. “What do you mean, ‘side of the table?’ this table is just barely big enough to fit one piece of pap-” As they pan to the side, they saw that they were, in fact, sitting across an end of a capsule-shaped table, a comically large stack of aged parchments towering over the two of them. “...Ah. Of course.” Spearmaster muttered in defeat. “Alright, I guess I should start writing my genome down… I guess.” They wracked their brains to figure out where to start. “A… C… A…”

“I think you got the second letter wrong.” Saint piped up. “How about I help you out? People say I have a knack for guessing these things.” Before they could deny the request, they looked down to see that the paper and the quill were already facing Saint’s direction, the green slugcat now studying them quite closely. “Hmm… yeah… I see. Alright!” Saint clapped her hands. “I think it is pretty obvious that you are an ATACGGTGACTAGTA… actually, it will be faster if I wrote it down.” In a flash, Saint became a continuous strand of blurred after images, air drawing in from the furious scribbling as she withdrew page after page, filled them out with compact letters in the blink of an eye, and deposited them on the ground. Spearmaster watched in astonishment as the paper stack shrunk and shrunk like some sort of animation, the neat stack on the floor growing at an equal pace. As quickly as it began, it ended. “Aaaaand done!” Saint proudly chirped. “Much quicker than if you were to fill it out, wasn’t it?”

“You know, I should be expecting you to pull something at this point.” Spearmaster tiredly muttered. “What are you, her jester? Wait no that was a rhetorical question, do not count that.” Saint only beamed at them. “Too late.” The purposed slugcat grumbled in frustration. “You could think of me as her jester if you like. I am what makes her life so entertaining, after all. However, like that attendant term you used earlier, neither covers the full capacity of my existence.” Spearmaster sighed, pinching their forehead. “Two hundred pages of genome sequences wasted on a f*cking non-answer… fine. Next question… reason of entry.” Spearmaster quickly wrote it down on the paper. “Wishes to retrieve iterator Looks To The Moon from unjust imprisonment. Alright, my question. What was the Queen of the Dead’s true name?”

“Hmm… now that requires some lessons in topology.” Saint mused. “Does not require a prerequisite though. Here.” Saint snaps her fingers, and a bagel popped out of thin air. “I can spout out at least seven names right here, right now, the Queen of the Dead being one of them.” Setting down the pastry on the desk, she began to count with her fingers. “Queen of the Dead, the Empress of Rubicon, the Eventual Host of All Guests, the Mistress of Dread, the Entrophic Terminus, the Sole χ-5 Class Infohazard, the Triple Affirmative, and so on, and so on.”

“But aren’t those her titles? I can list off plenty of titles for my creators as well.” Spearmaster began to list. “The Iterator of Solvanti, the God of Bioengineering, the Elder of the Scattered Shards, the Voidbearer, plenty of pretty-looking titles, but none of them are names. Their one and only true name is Seven Red Suns.” Saint co*cked her head sideways. “Oh? But I saw that the name listed on the internal file designation for the communication node as IT_085. This designation was older than Seven Red Suns for several hundred cycles, being created upon the activation of the transmission array. Would that not be a truer iterator name for your creators?”

“Well, uhh… I…” Spearmaster stammered out, struggling to find a retort. “I think you are beginning to get it. There is no meaningful difference between names and titles. If you use a title enough, it is now a name. Anyways, if you would excuse me,” Saint picked up the donut with one hand, “picture the surface of the donut as a representation of a nomenclatorial phase space, the set of all of her titles.” Spearmaster nodded along, not quite understanding. “Over here is the name ‘Triple Affirmative’, over this piece of frosting is the name ‘Entrophic Terminus’, at the bottom here is the name ‘the Mistress of Dread’, and so on, and so on.”

“...alright, I see, but I don’t see how that has to do with-” Saint put a finger over her mouth, silently shushing at Spearmaster until they stopped talking. “To find what you seek, the ‘true’ name, you will find the center of the phase space, the center of the donut.” Spearmaster relaxes, snatching the donut from Saint’s hand. “Oh, that’s easy. It is through here.” The messenger put a finger through the hole of the doughnut. Saint softly smiled, but shook her head. ”Very well, but what point on the surface does that correspond to?”

“What?” Spearmaster asked, confused. “Remember, we are not talking about the three-dimensional concept of a torus, just the two-dimensional toroidal manifold upon its surface. That surface is the set of all my names.” The purple slugcat mumbled to themselves, trying to justify themselves. “Uhh… well, you see- no… so if you- no, doesn’t work… so does her true ‘name’ not exist in the concept of names?” Saint shook her head, gently taking the donut back from Spearmaster’s hand. “You are getting close. The truth is, there is no ‘true’ name, for by definition the surface contains all she was to be referred by. From this analogy, attempting to find the center of this set is a farce, for either no point could be considered the ‘center’ and the true name, or an uncountable infinity of points could satisfy the purpose of ‘center’, making this distinction less than useless.”

“Fine.” Spearmaster huffed. “I have no more questions. I suppose I will fill out the rest of the form on my own.” With that, Saint only sat on the other side expectantly, watching as Spearmaster filled out the form one question at a time as they silently whispered to themselves. “Location of birth… Seven Red Suns… Parent… Seven Red Suns… Favorite fruit flavor… Dandelion Peaches… Opinion of pineapple on pizza… strongly opposed…” After a minute or two, Spearmaster looked back up again, shuffling the form back in order and handing the parchment to the green slugcat. “Alright, I am done filling everything out. What now?”

“Just wait around here for a moment.” Saint smiled, reaching a hand up to some sort of pneumatic tube descending into the ceiling. She compressed the genome sequence into a single page, and weaved it among the others to create a fine scroll capped with voidmetal. With a woosh, the air tube sucked up the scroll, delivering it to void-knows-where. “Aaaaand we are done!” Saint sat, patting her legs with her hands. “Once she responds, I will be sure to let you know so you could meet her. In the meantime… why not go wander around the outer castle a bit!”

“Oh, yeah! Uh… Sure.” Spearmaster nervously replied. But after a bit of silence as the purposed slugcat packed up their gear, they looked back up at Saint awkwardly. “So, uhh…” Spearmaster fixes their nonexistent hair. “Do you always work here? Or do you take breaks? Cause if you do…” They gave SaintTHE LOOK.“Mind if we grab something to drink while the mail is on the way to your lady? We could go to uh… Hell Starbucks? They had pretty good coffee the last I heard.” Saint only looked at Spearmaster in light amusem*nt, and if she was blushing or anything the green fur would have made it hard to see. “Well, I don’t know if they have Hell Starbucks in Rubicon, maybe Hell Tim Hortons? Yeah, they definitely belong down here.” They had shot their shot, and now they must see if this proposition would go through. Would be a fun distraction before the start of the boss fight.

Saint covered her mouth and lightly giggled. “You are cute, you know.” Spearmaster lightly blushed a bit at that comment, internally pumping their fist at being able to snag such a strange date. “I am going off of work in a bit. How about I meet up with you at the Hell Tim Hort-” However, her acceptance was cut off by a similar-looking parchment dropping down from the ceiling tube. “Ope, give me a second. I gotta read this.” Spearmaster looked confused. “Did our message not send out?”

“No, no, it did.” Saint casually said as she unwrapped the scroll. “I sensed that it had reached its recipient. It looks like this one was sent to me.” Spearmaster’s blood drained from their face as they could obviously tell what was on the other side of the paper because of the ink seeping through. “To the Queen of the Dead, the Mistress of Dread, the Triple Affirmative, Saint.” The green slugcat recited. “I write this message with a request from a challenger for an audience. Name: Spearmaster, Reason of entry: To release the iterator Looks To The Moon from alleged confinement.” The parchment crumbled to dust, and Spearmaster gulped as the ash blew away to reveal Saint with a Cheshire grin, teeth as sharp as serrated razor blades. “So, it was you, wasn’t it? You were the one looking for a fight?”

“I had a feeling that you were just f*cking with me.” Spearmaster muttered. Before they could get up, however, the chair and the table disintegrated into dust as well, causing them to fall on their tail. Saint was floating over them, one arm shrouded in chaotic purple energy coalescing into an approximate shape of a blade, and the other arm containing a rapidly spinning karma ten symbol on her palm. “What took you so long to get?” The voice that came out of Saint appeared layered and eerie, emanating with raw power as she slowly approached. “You are really kinda a dummy, you know. I would expect a creation of the gods above to be a little bit… wiser. Not saying I did not enjoy our time together, though, it was fun playing with my food for a little while and getting my mind off of business.”

As Spearmaster staggered up, trying to grow two spears from their tail, they attempted to retort. “W-well, what if I tell you this was my plan all along? I had a feeling you were her ever since I saw you on that throne.” Yeah, this was working. Spearmaster grew more confident. “I was just doing this to drill some information out of you, and I’d like to say that I succee-” Spearmaster’s words became muffled as Saint closed her right palm into a fist, causing their jaw to slam shut. “Yeah yeah yeah, please kindly cut the sh*t. I can read your mind, you know? I know exactly who you are and why you are here. You had not had a thought of doubt in your mind until I sent the message away in a tube. Don’t try to pretend to be more intelligent than you are. That makes you look like an idiot in a not-endearing way.”

Spearmaster gasped for breath as their mouth reopened, hands on knees and panting heavily. “Well, you do strike a quite good bargain, and I am interested in your proposition.” Saint’s voice echoed through the corridors. “So what will it be, messenger?” Saint rose higher, weapons in both hands growing brighter in intensity, “Go on the date first, or initiate combat with a god?”

“I… uhhh….”

sh*t. sh*t. sh*t. sh*t.

Spearmaster’s muscles screamed for rest as they briefly paused to pant. The grand city burned below the two of them, and they are almost up the mechanical arms once again. They engaged the cybernetic claws and dug into the mechanical deity’s compound alloy hull, electromagnets activating to fasten them to the arms of Saint as the tendril swung in air at subsonic speeds, body slowly shredding from the nick of air against skin alone. Yet, they held the enchanted needle in their hand strong.

The core was exposed, At the head of this mechanical abomination, beneath the three rotating rings of eyes, was where a crystal shell once stood. With the last barrier gone, there was only a cyst dangled to the rings blowing freely in the winds, a disgustingly organic heart to this destroyer of worlds. It pulsed green, each movement sending energy into the gargantuan form of a hulking monstrosity, but they knew that one good hit with their empowered needle would be enough to destroy her for good. They stared at the rings intently, calculating their new trajectory to find an opening when the time came. However, Spearmaster realized just in time that they were all aligning towards them.

“Engage energy shield, NOW!” Spearmaster screamed into their reciever, the hexagonal weave of crystaline fields lifting up around them just in time as reality was engulfed in green light. Even as they put on the anti-light goggles and looked down on the ground, they still see nothing but a blinding green everywhere. There goes their last shield charge. If they could not kill her in time, they are toast when she decides to fire the deathray again.

Alright, the arms were still. The homing missile barrages are much easier to deal with. As the enormous support strut came to a stop, Spearmaster bolted up the behemoth to approach closer yet closer to the head, very well aware of the several incendiary missiles sent their way. They frantically typed out onto their arm, firing precise EMP blasts out to each of them to cause the projectiles to go haywire and crash into the city ruins below, fireballs erupting from the ground so, so far down. They were so close now, and a confidence that they had been deprived for so long was finally returning to them. They were once a mere survivor of the onslaught, unkempt with their gear as they dodged for their life from her true power, but now they are going to be so much more. They are born to be the apex predator, the lifeform to surpass all others. And only one left stands in their way.

They are going to slay a god.

Miniguns. They are no problem to Spearmaster now. As they came upon Saint’s rotating head, they used the last of the batteries on their armor to engage the orbiting physical shields, the thunk of depleted rhenium-dubnium-hassium alloy rounds hitting against the last barrier of protection they had. This is now or never. Either they die here in a blaze of glory, or they prove their worth. Spearmaster set the jetpack to overdrive, blasting it as high as it could take them as it sputtered into permanent catatonicity. There was an opening, and there was not enough time for her to intercept them with the rings. However, they realized a fatal mistake: The shields were not enough to block them from all angles. Were they to be near the core, a bullet from the side would easily pierce their spine and kill them.

There is no turning back. With a grit of determination, Spearmaster drained the binding energy holding the equipment together, recharging the battery just a little bit more. First the boots, then the claws, then the goggles, then the breathing mask, one by one, the systems that allowed them to get this far were reduced to useless scraps flung to the winds. Yet, their efforts were rewarded. Just the slightest pulse of the battery was all Spearmaster needed, slightly maneuvering the shields to the side to reveal a tiny gap in the middle, the faint hexagonal glow of an energy shield filling the meager space for their last moments. Spearmaster holds their spear downwards, barely past the barrier and ready to pierce open Saint’s heart. The roaring and the heartbeat grew closer and closer, and…

A heavy thud was heard as Spearmaster and Saint fell through a rift in space and crashed in a dimly lit chamber. Though their eyes were open as they lept in, it was as if they had opened once again to objective reality. Where they once held the enchanted needle in their arms as they pierced Saint’s cystic heart, they were now hugging her slugcat form in a tight embrace. As they rolled off of the green slugcat and onto the plush and soft carpet, the toll of the excursion began to reveal itself. Their muscles ached and flared, the pain and tears from overuse of hysterical strength finally caught up to them. Their hearts pounded so hard their chest hurt, their breathing was shallow and rapid, and the adrenaline made an unpleasant buzz within their head.

Turning around, it appears their sparring partner was not much better for wear. Though she did not use the slugcat body in battle, nor was the mechanical titan form capable of showing exhaustion, the fiery dance of their battle clearly transferred back into this vessel. Her chest was rising up and down quickly, mouth agape and panting uncharacteristically wildly and improper, eyes wide open and dilated. Somehow, even through the green fur lining Saint, Spearmaster could spy a red blush. “You… huff… puff…” Spearmaster spoke through raspy breaths, trying to regain some semblance of composure “huff… that was amazing.”

“You…” Saint panted, eyes yellow and blue turned to look at Spearmaster in a mix of terror, exhilaration, admiration, and attraction. “You killed one of my manifestations…” The purposed slugcat chuckled in wonder, now lying in their vat-grown body without cybernetic enhancements once more. Though this was their true body, it felt… foreign. No visors giving them trajectories, no jetpacks giving them vertical boosts, nothing, just flesh and bone. “Ugh… I am gonna have to get used to my normal body again, don’t I? Compared to how strong I was back then, this ol’thing just feels drab and used.”

Saint giggles, weakly raising one arm to cover her mouth. “You get used to it eventually. It was always a shock when you could not align your head to fire deathrays because you are no longer mechanical or when you could not transmit yourself into someone else’s brain because you are no longer memetical. But… what I said back there was true.” Saint patted her fur-covered slugcat torso. “This body… as mortal as it was, it is comfortable. Like a soft cushioned sofa in place of a steel throne.”

“I hope I will get used to it soon enough.” Spearmaster mumbled, still in shock as they stared at the ceiling of the room. “That… was the most epic fight I could have ever had. Magnitudes better than the one I imagined going in. I could not have asked to slay you in any better way.” Saint was… blushing at the statement, a sight that Spearmaster did not realize had made their heart flutter. “You were amazing as well. A single slugcat, with just the top-notch equipment of the time, managing to destroy the one who brought ruin to that civilization?” Saint let out a few airy laughs. “You were really something, Spearmaster. I felt mortal fear for the first time in so long. I did not even know that vessel was capable of fear until now.”

“Man… I can’t believe I am saying this, like I don’t know if I am drunk or on drugs or mind-controlled or whatever, but…” Spearmaster looked deeply into Saint’s eyes. “I f*ckin’ love you, man. You of everyone understands the truth of the world.” They almost cracked up at seeing Saint looking away in mild embarrassment, acting like a normal slugcat in love rather than the terrifying primordial older than their creators by orders of magnitudes. “Passion across all forms was one and the same, and the blazing inferno I felt as you attempted to shoot me down with bullet rounds or tried to disintegrate me with lasers as I stabbed that needle into your core was more than anything I could have possibly experienced, or though I would have wanted to experience. That was… f*ck…” Spearmaster panted some more, gasping for air. “I don’t think we could have connected deeper any other way.”

“I am glad you feel the same way, dear.” Saint softly smiled, gently scooting herself closer to the purposed slugcat’s face. Spearmaster knew what must be done, and overreached an arm out to embrace her closely, their lips meeting in the middle. The kiss was not an affirmation of anything as the two slugcats wrapped tightly around each other in a connection of nuclear fury, their bond already consummated when Spearmaster quite literally pierced the barrier around her heart, but it was an assurance that no matter what form the two will take, this passion would be one to never fade. With a serene sigh, Saint got up from the floor, dusting herself off. “You look quite tuckered out, how about I cook you something to eat?”

Spearmaster got up as well, stretching their back and redistributing their battered form back into place. “Can’t you just… snap your fingers and make the food come out of thin air?” Saint laughed as she walked out of the room, opening the door to this chamber. “Yeah, but it gets boring after a while. Plus, it has been a century or two since I cooked for a guest. I have to renew my abilities, y’know? Just settle here and lay around for a bit, I will be back with some refreshments for the both of us.”

As the door slammed shut, Spearmaster let out another lovelorn sigh. They had landed themselves in paradise, they just knew it. The purposed slugcat once on a mission stood up to look around the room, seeing that the carpet they were once laid upon on was at the end of a grand, cushioned bed. The blankets were made of some refined threads and were impossibly smooth, and the mattress felt like falling into a dream. Spearmaster flopped upon it, feeling their tendons relax and heal, but noted that this bed did not appear to be frequently used. There was a faint scent of Saint on there, but the cleanliness and the relative kemptness showcased that she was not one to use it often. Makes sense, sleep was not something a god probably would wish to indulge in all that much.

So… where were they? Somewhere in the inner palace, Spearmaster assumes. They knew that this was her bedchamber, but… what else could be in this building? There was a table, an old-fashioned nightlight with some parchments and a quill dipped in an ink bottle still resting upon it. Reading the document gave nothing to them, the paperwork written in some indecipherable lingo long lost to time. There was a closet as well, but none of the cloaks or jackets or shirts within looked to fit Saint’s current form. Spearmaster shrugged. Normal slugcats aren’t much for clothing anyway, and with her dense fur, it would be even more redundant. Though… they had to say, she would look pretty good in one of the messenger cloaks that their creators would give them…

Their eyes drifted over to the small pile neatly stashed in the corner. It is their equipment! Looks like she was considerate enough to teleport their gear when they were swapped out for the combat ones they were using. However, Spearmaster’s heart sank as they uncovered their pack, seeing the glowing green neuron sitting atop the other weapons they were meant to use to free Moon from her shackles. A pang of hurt and conflict spread across their chest, their newfound attachment battling with the innate urge of purpose and duty they were created for.

They… Spearmaster loved her, they knew it that much. The thrill of a fight is only something the two of them understand, a mutual symbiosis where both could discover facets of their fractal selves. Yet… they start to remember why they are down here. It was not like they were mind-controlled or anything, they felt as normal as they entered, it’s just… their mission was all but forgotten when they fought with the power and the passion of a thousand suns, two hearts beating as one as they each sought to slay the other with all their might. The fervor imprinted itself into their mind, and they wished to relive it again and again and again and again, an endless battle born out of nothing but love.

But… she captured Moon. Moon went down here to retrieve her partner Sliver of Straw, one who they heard was unfairly taken from the mortal plane. She came down for the same love they were bound by now, trapped in death by Saint’s will. The world above will suffer without her guidance and presence, Spearmaster knew it. It was not in the soul of a hero to watch this happen. Saint was not on the good side of history in this scenario. But were they ever? They openly admitted to taking many horrific forms across history to wipe out civilization after civilization, some grand and awe-inducing like the machine colossus they had just fought, others more insidious such as a living concept that spreads from mind to mind that slowly rots the people from within. It was more clear than ever now, she was the villain.

Does it matter? Spearmaster did not need to be good. They are beyond the reach of their creator now. They are beyond the reach of anyone or anything. Down here, they could abandon morality and reach their true potential. Be the partner that Saint would relish so, so deeply. That is what their heart wants, to spend the rest of eternity as a god’s eternal slayer, to find what it means to be alive. However, a voice within them disagrees. They were not a villain. They were not built to be a villain. They could not stand to see someone unjustly punished. Though they were just born and could not see the mortal world for what it was, a primal piece of them scattered in their patchwork genome spoke to them. It begged and pleaded for them to do the right thing, to help Moon escape and to make the world all the better.

Spearmaster wanted to thrash, to cry, to bang their head against their wall as their two sides battled with each other, unable to get rid of the other entirely. They could help Moon leave, but Saint would not be happy with that. She will never see them in the same way again, no matter how much they grovel and beg. They will be lucky if she does not unleash something far worse in a fit of rage. As much as she was their love, Saint was still a god. One infinitely primordial and more divine than the iterators of the above, no less. The forms they know of are mere fragments of her true wrath, and if they were unlucky, they would face all of her scorned rage at once. Or they could stay, be a loyal partner to Saint, and watch as their morality and guilt ate them from the inside out knowing the world suffers. They hated to say it, but they wished they could just… rip that noisome little thought out, to become fully uncaring of the world above if it meant that they could spend eternity with her. But they knew that they could not ignore it forever. One day, they must look below at the terror within their heart.

Unsteadily, Spearmaster rose to their feet. They needed to get some fresh air. Get their thoughts in order before they do something stupid. Pushing open the surprisingly small wooden door, a wave of pleasant, warm aromas came out the other side. Across the private chamber was something even more unexpected: a kitchen. Unlike the bed chamber, this place looked like it had been used quite a lot. Primitive scrap cauldrons mixed in with futuristic-looking industrial-grade equipment, the room hung with pots and pans and tools of all kinds, many they could not even name. However, one thing they knew was that the smell waswonderful.

Saint was wearing an apron, an exotic pattern branded upon it likely indicating its origin from a previous culture. She was currently watching over a sleek Teflon pan as it bubbled with some sort of blue froth inside. Surprisingly, though, she did not appear to hear them coming through the door, humming a slow, melodic tune as the pot stirred. Spearmaster decided to be a little bit of a run-of-the-mill romantic, silently trailing behind her with calculated footsteps until they were right on Saint’s back. With a precise flash, they grabbed Saint below the arms.The green slugcat yelped in surprise, hands briefly sparking with reality-shattering chaos before looking up to see Spearmaster’s presence. She shook her head slowly with a light smile, before standing on her tip-toes to kiss Spearmaster’s chin. “You surprised me.” Saint softly laughed. “What, can’t you sense my aura or something from behind?” The purple slugcat snidely remarked.

“...no, not here.” Saint muttered, freeing herself from Spearmaster’s grasp as she continued to tend to the pan. “I did some tampering in this room. When I am in here, I am basically… mortal. Mentally, at least.” Saint remarked. “Now, I can still spawn in objects and teleport stuff around, but only at the whims of my vessel’s processing powers.” She tapped at her skull. “Remember when I read your genome and wrote it down within twenty seconds? Needless to say, I can’t do that here. Your species were not built to do these things. When I am in here… I guess this is the closest thing you got to dating a normal slugcat, if you are into that sort of thing.”

“...so you intentionally suppress your powers in here? Why?” Spearmaster co*cked their head sideways, confused. Saint placed the spatula back in the pan, lightly chuckling. “I made the living spaces to indulge in my vessel’s mortal needs. Sleep, eating, …whatever else, and I really don’t see the point of going super speed comprehension when it was really more about the journey than the destination. It was not like I needed to eat anything, so why not enjoy the frustrations of creation along the way?” The purposed slugcat nodded in interest. “That… yeah, I like that. Honestly, I am surprised you would hold that philosophy. I would have thought-” Spearmaster’s eyes lighted up at the slices of a certain soft blue fruit on the cutting board. “Were those dandelion peaches?”

Saint only smiled as Spearmaster leaned down with interest at the ambrosial fruit slices, taking a quick peck at their cheeks as they went down for a sniff. “And I wondered why one of the questions was about my favorite fruit flavor. Were you into me all the way back then?” Saint smirked, lightly shaking her head. “Nah, I just put that in order to stall for time.” “Stall for what? Can’t you make anything happen?” A soft chuckle came out from Saint’s throat. “Let’s just say… I was not exactly too happy with you when you first came in. Other than messing around with you, I wanted some time talking to you to get you some fitting punishment. I was thinking of drowning you in molten Dandelion Peach syrup, but that’s… too shallow and uncreative for my tastes. Your pep and your performance in that fight back there really impressed the hell out of me, though, so you could say that these plans were put on the back burner.”

“Say… speaking of fights and all, how was your experience dealing with Moon?” Spearmaster causally probed, trying not to bring suspicion. Saint’s right arm tightened, spatula dropping into the boiling froth as she turned around with a slightly more forced smile. “She… was not a gracious guest, to say the least. But not like in a funny way either.” The green slugcat let out a frustrated sigh. “I know you are sent here to let her go, but… she would have been let go a long time ago if she had not overstepped her bounds.” Spearmaster sighed. “Alright, I guess the cards are on the table. What did you mean?”

“First of all, she came down here to claim her love Sliver of Straw, whom I fairly took as nature snatched her away from the mortal realm. Now that was not something I would allow to happen, but I know how love blinds even gods. Hell, I am a hypocrite for saying this myself; look at how different I am treating you than her.” Spearmaster slightly blushed but nodded and signed for her to continue. “Anyways, I would normally just tell her ‘sorry, it does not work like that and your girlfriend was dead’, but she was such anassabout it. Absolutely clueless about her place and thought she could make any demands she wanted. Like, you are clueless about all this gods stuff, but like in an endearing way. She should have known better!”

Spearmaster opened their mouth, about to argue how “being a jerk” is not exactly a good reason to leave someone to rot forever, but Saint cut them off. “Oh, I also looked through your memories and saw what your creator said.” The godly slugcat crossed her arms. “Don’t mind them, the whole ‘the world will die without Moon’ spiel is some bull if I heard one.” Saint waved her hands dismissively, “the iterators are honestly a bit too self-important for my taste. The world existed before they were born and the world will exist after they die. The world will run fine without her.”

After silently walking around, feeling the sudden tension in the room, Spearmaster appeared to relent. “That’s… alright.” They muttered. “I love you, and I trust your judgment.” Saint smiled, coming in for a hug. “Now that’s what I like to hear.” Spearmaster cautiously let go, trying to add to their statement. “I… is it alright if I try and see her? I want some closure before I accept this choice, or else the guilt will eat me from the inside out.” Saint gave them a bit of the stank eye, but ultimately nodded. “She’s in the basem*nt cellar, 4th cell on the left on the first row. Just get back quick.” She sighs. “The pancakes are less tasty if they are cold.” Spearmaster waved goodbye with a smile, closing the kitchen door behind them. The moment she was out of their sight, the purposed slugcat’s facade dropped, looking at their equipment in mourning.

They had made their choice.

Moon jolted awake, feeling the cold stone floor pressing against the back of her head. Just seconds ago, she was facing in front of death herself, being chained down as a glowing halo reached toward her. Now, as her optical sensors returned online, she spied the beige color of something very familiar. “Sliver?” Moon weakly called out. She felt a heavy, mechanical weight on her chest as the full weight of a puppet pressed down on her, arms wrapping them in an embrace. “I am so glad you made it here.” The fallen iterator muttered to their revived lover.

“You… saved me.” Moon blushed, wishing more than ever to lean in for a kiss from her partner. “No, I am not the one to take that title.” Sliver of Straw shook her head. “You should thank our little purposed friend over there.” The beige iterator moved out of Moon’s line of vision, revealing a strange purple slugcat with a tail full of orifices that produced spears. They look… quite disheveled.

“Who were they?” Looks To The Moon whispered to Sliver of Straw. “I will talk to you later, but we really need to go. Their name is Spearmaster, and they were made by Seven Red Suns to get us out of here. Suns made this neuron thing to restart our puppets. They used one to revive me, and…” Looks to the Moon looked down to see Sliver’s hand pressing down a glowing green neuron on Moon’s depleted chest, “they gave me the honor of reviving you with the second.” The blue iterator chuckled. “I knew out of all iterators, Suns would be the one to pull something like this off. Let’s go.”

As they stepped through the inner sanctums of the palace, making sure to not make any sound that could catch Saint’s attention, Moon and Sliver could not help but to whisper and chatter about their strange savior. “They were not very talkative, aren’t they? Do they even speak ancient?” Sliver quietly spoke back, “They can. That’s how I got to know who they are. But they look quite… glum. They refused to tell me what they did to get here.” Looks to the Moon co*cked her head, wondering what journey they must have gone through to evade this ‘Saint’. They are almost at the throne room now, and soon, they would escape the Rubicon alltoge-

“Speary~” A slugcat called out in a sing-song voice, opening one of the shut hallway doors to reveal a surprisingly domestic looking kitchen, full of pots and pans and other equipment. The horrific deity that had defeated Moon was in an depth-era apron, hands holding a piping hot plate of waffles with some sort of blue fruit syrup piled on top. “Have you met up with Moon yet? I know you must be hungr-” As Saint opened her eyes, the plate clattered on the floor, the disks of risen gluten sliding off one another to splatter on the floor. The purple slugcat refused to look Saint’s eyes. Just what did these two do while she was out cold?

“Wha… I… I…” Saint trembled, not acting like the terrifying goddess that she had been when she defeated Moon in the slightest. Spearmaster took out a strange mechanical orb from their belt, quickly lobbing it into Saint’s body. Although this speed should be child’s play for a god to dodge, the reaction time of the slugcat almost seemed… mortal. The ball unraveled into a series of chains, wrapping around the green slugcat and causing her to tumble onto the ground before emitting a constant stream of electric shock. What came as a surprise, though, was the cries of pain afterward as she spasmed around on the ground. Moon thought it was a trick to feign weakness, as surely such a physical weapon would be nowhere enough to damage her, but the tortured expression and the tears… it all seemed so real.

“We have to go, now.” Spearmaster mumbled. “She had diminished her power in the inner sanctums, and these chains would distract her enough to stop her from changing back. But once the stunners stop working, we are doomed. We must get out of here now.” Looks to the Moon and Sliver of Straw understood the signal, bolting down the hallway and into the throne room. But as the blue iterator turned back, she saw the purposed slugcat, tears in their eyes, stare at the bound and spasming Saint. “I am sorry, my love.” They whispered, “I can’t let you keep them down here.” The Saint attempted to say something back, but Spearmaster was already sprinting their way towards the exit, catching up to the two revived iterators.

“My Love?” Looks to the Moon hissed at Sliver of Straw as the two bolted down the throne room and the exterior passages. “Look, I did not know either, alright?” Sliver puts her hands up. “I didn’t know that THAT’S how they got us out of here!” She grumbled wryly under her breath, “Looks like they got a different type of action than we assumed.” The two’s whisper ceased as Spearmaster caught up to them, part running and part stumbling. They actively had to wipe tears from their eyes as they ran with the two of them. They need to grieve, and it would be quite disrespectful to their savior to continue talking about the two.

The gates of Rubicon were deactivated, likely thanks to Saint’s brief shunting of her powers. She would have liked to congratulate this Spearmaster for being able to trick Saint into diminishing herself purposefully via seduction, but she knew that it was very much not the case. Whatever hijinx the two had done, Moon felt bad for both Spearmaster and Saint, for they are losing what she once lost as well. Worse, this was a betrayal neither of the two could mend. Never mind, the dim red lights of the underworld was quickly fading away, and they had just passed the last gate blocking their freedom. They can figure it out when they-

SPEARMASTER.

A loud, deep voice boomed from down the cavernous halls. They were near the entrance, the mouth of the cave. There are no more walls blocking them from their freedom, the open, blue sky shining into the dimly lit entrance tunnel. The purple slugcat dropped to the ground bawling, knelt sobbing into their hands inconsolably. With a rush of flurried metallic steps, Moon dove onto Spearmaster and surrounded them in a tight embrace, letting them shed tears on her shoulders. “It’s alright. We are safe now.” Sliver of Straw, however, urged them to go on. “We are not safe until we completely exit the cave. We need to go now, or else-”

Where did you go, Spearmaster?

The voice called out again. She could recognize it as the voice of her warden, Saint. However, it sounds… charged with emotion. Not sad*stic bemusem*nt or coldness, but… grief. Moon felt horribly hypocritical, for she destroyed a relationship in her attempts to get her own one back.“Why did you do this to me? Why did you do this to us?”The voice muttered. “I… I don’t understand. We had a perfect eternity together. You said that you trusted me. You… this was not a trick. I can sense that. You loved me with all of your heart, and yet you forsook me. For what reason? Some remaining loyalty to your creator?”

Looks to the Moon winced, knowing that though Saint was in the wrong, she had been as well for trying to enter down here and break out her own love. Spearmaster was still babbling inconsolably as these words reached their ears, clawing at their own face until they drew blood, but Sliver helped by holding their hands down as the three of them continued on without looking back.

“I showed my heart to you. I showed my mortality to you. I showed you all that I truly am! And THIS is how you repay me?”The voice shouted in abject agony and sadness. “Not even the gods who created you knew about me. I showed you too much of my true self for a mortal to know.”Sliver of Straw and Moon picked up the pace as Saint continued her ominous speech, only the metallic clang of footstep and the incoherent tear-choked chitters of the purposed messenger echoing throughout the caves,.“Your mouth shall be silenced, for you shall not speak of our truth. You shall not speak of our shared passion and our forsaken future. You shall not utter a word again to allow anyone else to fall for you. No one will hear you scream as you are torn and slashed.”

The blue iterator took a second to process the cryptic message, but quickly look down in alarm as Spearmaster began screaming. Their lips and teeth are growing out, becoming more bulbous and extended than they were before. With a sickeningcrunch, Moon heard bones crack as the jawbones fused together, the bleeding crimson of the pressed-down gums soon covered as the lips began merging, the boundaries disappearing. “Sliver!” Moon frantically yelled, setting down Spearmaster. “Unpack their back to see if there is a knife. We have to cut away the excess growth!”

“And you two, the starcrossed lovers who betrayed fate to stay together. I know you can hear me as well. Was it worth it for you to gain back your love knowing you have broken mine?”The voice sneered. “What you have done is unforgivable. Stand aside and watch, for there is nothing any of you could do now. A curse of silence has been placed, and no surgery nor transportation would rid them of it. So long as their soul is nestled within a physical vessel, there will be no voice to cry out suffering, to tell the world of the truth.

“Better find another way out soon, You three.”The cavern roared with Saint’s voice as Spearmaster crumbled onto the ground. “Time takes all eventually. Sooner or later you will age. Your body will be consumed by entropy as your organs fail one by one. Your soul could not stay latched to that fragile bundle of nerves forever. Trust me, you do not want to end up back here.”The voice shook, an unsteadyness as the cavern let out a deranged cackle. “They may have seen the true extent of my power, but they have not yet seen the true extent of my cruelty. And at this moment, I have plenty of good reasons to push that bound. I am almost excited to see what forms of torment I could come up for you three with a decade or so of unfiltered dedication.See you soon.”And with that, the voice finally faded away.

Looks To The Moon sighed. “A tough breakup, huh?” Spearmaster only looked at them, unbroken skin covering where their mouth once was. Sliver of Straw knelt down, grabbing Spearmaster by the arms and trying to prop them up to stand again. “Well… what do we do now?”

The Blue iterator shot her partner a dirty look. “We are free now, but we should probably apologize to Spearmaster first.” She looked at the now mouthless slugcat, hand over their shoulder. “Hey, so… I do not know whatever connection you two had back there, and I suppose now we never will. But… it breaks my heart seeing you two separated like that, even if one of the parties was the one who imprisoned us both. Just… we are here for you, alright? Two gods has been indebted to you for the rest of your life, and we will do the best we can to make your situation as comfortable and carefree as possible.” Spearmaster, after a second or two of processing their word, nodded and let out a muffled grunt from their throat.

“So… we go to your place?” Sliver suggested. “It has been a while since I died and I am not sure how functional my facillity would be.” Moon stood up, pointing to the large metal superstructure in the distance. “Yeah. I am quite close to this entrance. Once we arrive, we will rest and recoup. Maybe get them wired up to some sign language lessons and figure out how to jumpstart your can back to life.” Sliver’s antenna twitched in agreement. “Alright, then we should get going then.” However, as she began walking, she paused and turned to walk towards Moon. “Actually, one more thing.”

Sliver of Straw placed one hand around Moon, the other caressing her cheeks. “I never actually got to say this when you first woke up, so I think this is the right place for me to finally make it up to you. I missed you so, so much.” Moon lightly blushed, rolling her eyes and flattening her antennas mockingly. “Really now? Right in front of our savior?” Sliver chuckled. “They are a connoisseur of love themselves. I am sure they would find rest in their heart seeing what they reunited.” With that, Sliver picked up Moon by her thighs and the other hand behind her back, leaning over to a bridal carry as the blue iterator yelped in surprise. “Here is to the rest of eternity for the both of us.” Sliver muttered, before diving in for a kiss of divine passion as the two mechanical deities reconnected in a way only understood by Spearmaster and the other impermanent divinities that lay above the threshold of the void.

As the two separated, they saw Spearmaster already prepared for action once more, two spears in hand and ready for the journey back home. “Seven Red Suns really gave you a dose and a half of gumption, didn’t they?” Moon wryly joked. “Well, little savior, I could see how Saint could admire your traits.” The two iterators laughed among themselves, and Spearmaster only huffed grumpily and tapped their foot, seemingly out of their depressive trance for now. With that, the three mortals of the above world walked off into the sunset, heading off to the superstructure to begin the rest of their long yet finite lives.

Chapter 10: The Prince

Chapter Text

Clank!

As his second spear clattered onto the ground, the Prince of the scavengers was disarmed once again.

The Prince nimbly lept out of the way of the elite’s attack, his attacker’s rush forward allowing enough time for him to pull his last spear out of his back.The royal’s legs burned with exertion, but he knew the enemy was worn out as well, the attacks slowing and becoming less coordinated. Just a few more exchanges, and he could deal the killing blow. As the elite charged again, trying to swipe his electric spear at the prince in order to shock and incapacitate him, the Prince parried the attack with his own, holding the advances of his opponent’s spear’s sparking tip at bay. The frowny mask hid the smirk on his face as the tips of the two spears approached, leaving the elite to watch in horror as he realized that Prince’s spear was no ordinary sharpened rebar, it was a discharged electric spear.

The bent metallic coil bound to the spear using hardened resin whirred back to life, a sparking discharge blinding both opponents as the stored electric potential within the elite’s electric spear now lept over to Prince’s uncharged spear and restored its blue glow. The horned elite tried to withdraw his weapon before the transfer reached equilibrium, but the Prince knew that the metal equalized the charge within seconds. With the Elite’s spear on the retreat, he pressed the newly electrified spear further, aiming it for a retaliatory sweep at the ankles. With a loud ZAP, the scavenger lost his footing and crumpled to the ground spasming, giving the Prince ample time to saunter over, pin him down, and remove his mask in victory.

“Up on your feet, Decanting Flames.” The Prince got off from the top of the elite scavenger, taking some time for him to recover his breath before reaching out a hand to help him up. The other elites watching the sparring match cheered and applauded, discussing amongst themselves about the riveting fight as the demasked scavenger accepted the help from Prince, using his arm as leverage to stand back up. “Still sticking to the ‘use-full-names-when-ending-matches’ schtick, Your Majesty?” The elite said between breaths, but the air of playfulness still permeated his words.

“I am a future leader of the tribe, I have to at least lead the traditions by example, Kane.” The Prince shrugged, walking with his sparring partner off the arena as the third pair of elites entered the dueling ring. The elite captain is quite aged now, but the power and respect Rotted Bars commanded was still felt through the air with every training session. Even as the heir to metropolis and the one whom the blue scavenger would eventually answer to, nothing could deny the pivotal role this seasoned elite had played in the city’s founding, fighting alongside his father to establish a tribe above all others. Respect for one above your military rank had been drilled into his head since adolescence, so the two did a respectful kneel to their sergeant, heads bowing down and all. “Captain Rotted Bars of the Elite Guards, we report completion of our spar.”

The diagonal antlers of the captain stretched above his spiked elite mask, hiding the true expression on Robbin’s face. “At ease, you two.” He continued as the two elites stood up, ready to receive his comments on the fight. “Kane, you need more work on footing and maneuvering. Prince has been able to outpace most of your attacks and that was what ultimately did you in. I do have to commend you on strength and accuracy, however, the hits that did land were perfectly positioned to deal the most damage.” The scavenger puffed up his chest in pride. “Thank you, sir.” Robbin gave a wave to the brown elite. “You are dismissed. Return to the viewing deck.”

Dismissing Kane, Robbin continued with his examination. “Now, Prince, your dexterity and improvisation was ultimately what won the match for you, and I would have to congratulate you on that. Even with your excess weak points like your tail that could not be easily accounted for, you were able to accommodate for the challenge and win the duel.” Prince was about to bow down in thanks and walk away as well, but the captain raised a hand, showing that he was not done speaking. “However, your impressive finishing move of charging up an electric spear and stunning your opponent was only because you lost both of the spear binds during the spar. I understand your skill is more oriented at long-distance throwing and parrying, but I would like to see more effort being put into close-range melee spear combat. Do extra to review and practice before the next session, Chieftain expects a balanced skillset for the leader behind the next generation of the metropolis tribe.” The dark green-furred heir bowed down his head. “Of course, sir. I will not disappoint come next meeting.”

Robbin nodded. “That’s what your father would like to hear. Dismissed.” The Prince of the scavengers turned around, seeing that Kane, in fact, had not returned to the stands, instead standing a short distance away, tapping his foot impatiently and looking slightly irate. As two other elites continued their duel in the background, the one with lavender frills struggling to down his opponent, Kane broke the tension. “What an ass, that guy. You won the match fair and square! Does he have a vendetta against you or something? No need to nitpick every little thing when you are the victor!”

Prince slapped the brown elite firmly on the back. “Be respectful to the captain, he had been training new elites before either of us was born.” The elite heir spoke sternly. “Plus, I am not a weak dame that you need to protect or comfort, Flames. I can take criticism to hone my skills.” Kane huffed, mandibles clicking as the two climbed onto a crate in the stand area away from all the other elites. “Still, look at how he criticized me compared to you! I only got a passing mention on the footing but you got picked apart meat from bone like a lantern mice in a nest of vulture hatchlings! It… it does not feel good for you to be isolated like this, you know?”

The royal elite softly smiled, shaking his head. “I appreciate you worrying about me, Flames. It is not really something you need here, but… it feels good to be wanted sometimes.” Prince stretched upwards, giving a quick peck on Kane’s cheeks. “But… I am sure Robbin got special instruction from dad to train me extra hard. Harder than he trains any other elite. My dad always sought a well-rounded warrior, and with his closest friend just happening to be the most skilled elite in the fortress and also the elite captain…? Robbin is a loyal scav, willing to follow the crown and its holder at all costs. I am sure he would take the creed to train me in stride regardless of if he hated my guts or adored me like the son he never had.” Kane sighed. “I think your dad is a bit too overzealous in that regard. Sure, he still fights and trains, but we had not had a major enemy since… well… you know.” The Prince grimaced. “And that victory was rooted in the foundation of his persistence. You know the saying, Kane. Heavy is the head that bears the crown. Peace or not, a wise chieftain must always be prepared for conflict on the horizon.”

“There is no arguing with you, is there?” Kane rolled his eyes, mandibles clicking. “I heard rumors from the translators that there was something called an ‘argument court’ used by the architects of the fortress. Chieftain’s palace seems to have once held a room for such activities. Maybe you could be among your fellow peers in there if they were still alive?” Prince looked onwards as the cheers burst out from the audience, the third pair of combatants finally having chosen their victor. “Perhaps. From what I saw from the visions of the burning one and the architect, though…” his face darkened. “I don’t know if they would be the best to be around.” Kane looked on, however, with surprising levity. “Then it might have been a good thing that they have all vanished. We are here to make better use of their wares. Do you ever wonder if we will develop to the point of wielding the abandoned tools like they had?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Flames.” Prince said, stretching his back. “Chance is, we would have long since passed on into the cycle when something like that happens.” He opened his mouth, letting out a yawn. “I… Kane, mind if you watch out for me? Call if there are any interesting matchups happening or if Robbin is calling me. I am going to get some quick shuteye while I still have the time.” The brown scavenger gave a salute. “Will do, Your Majesty.” Prince huffed, but did not say much else as he lay down on the crate, mask covering his eyes to block out sunlight. After a minute of battle ambiance, he finally drifted off into the realm of sleep.

The Prince ran forward on stubby legs, the vigor and curiosity of youth driving them forward as they ran through the streets of metropolis. They were not meant to be out today, but there was a celebration afoot. There was music from every corner, scavengers out and about in the streets, the delicious aromas of so many different delicacies mixing together in the air making their stomach pre-emptively growl. Why were they to be locked in the palace when there was so much fun to be had out here? When so many were out here immersing themselves in the ceremony? When the air itself sang with joy?

The prince of the scavengers found the streets full of scavengers wandering, some carrying wooden or steel instruments and playing joyful or ceremonial melodies. Soldiers sparsely patrolled around, but they knew how to blend into the crowd well enough for them to avoid attention from the ones closest to the Chieftain who might want to bring them back into that stuffy old bedroom. The midday sun shone brilliantly across the abandoned streets, illuminating every festival attendee and makeshift stalls on the outskirts of the festival’s activities. They clutched a light green pearl to their chest and a small leather satchel on their side, ready to take on the festival on their two little feet.

The journey out of the palace had already taken a lot out of them, and the feeling of hunger only grew with the sight of all the delicacies nearby. Their eyes fell upon a small lot in the corner, two scavengers wearing scrap-cloth aprons currently cooking a whole blue lizard thigh over a spit and a firepit contained in a rusty shallow metal drum. Meanwhile, another scavenger was working on carving up the already cooked other hind quarter, skin crisped up to form a crackly layer as the scavenger carved meat from the bone, mouth-drooling juices of seasoning and fat leaking out of the roasted blue lizard meat like water being squeezed out of a sponge. They brought some snacks on this trip, but their impulses quickly centered themselves on obtaining a lunch far more delectable.

Approaching the stand, the Prince nervously searched in their bag, ignoring their favorite light green pearl to search for payment. Grabbing a white pearl, they approached the scavenger tending to the carving station and stood on their tiptoe, eyeing the strips upon strips of tender blue lizard meat. Soon, the green female scavenger noticed them, briefly jumping back before noticing the pearl in their hand, the other hand pawing and gesturing at the plate of meats, and the determined look on the young prince’s face. However, their ears twitched in surprise as the vendor shook her head, mandibles clicking. She pushed the pearl back into the Prince’s hands and guided it back to the bag before handing him a clean wooden disk, where a skewer of thigh pieces---many still possessing the crispy fat cap---laid on top. The Prince’s eye widened with joy at this outcome, giving her a chirp of thanks before running off back into the crowd, a delicious meal in hand.

As their meat teeth latched on to the top piece and slid it off the skewer, the cooked lizard became much softer for someone of their age to handle, their ears twitched all over the place as the well-seasoned fat juices flowed down into their mouth, coating their taste buds in a co*cktail of heavenly flavors as they chewed the bits of meat. The Prince continued to walk forward while eating their meal, passing by some more scavengers who gave strange glances and others holding scavenger kits by the hand, the young scavengers suddenly eyeing their prize before tugging incessantly at their parents' arms and clicking their mandibles in demand for a similar purchase also. The heir of metropolis licked their lips contently, but their curiosity for adventure flared up again as they heard the roar of music in the distance.

Their legs could not walk far. In the past, their mother would be here to help them, to strap them onto her back as they clung to her fur and walked along. Such was the pain of going out alone again, but they were in safe hands, in a place where other children could roam free without worry. It took quite a long time, their legs aching as it crossed street after street, but they reached a crowd loudly cheering. They pressed down their ears and shrank away at the deafening sound, but noticed that they were merely a small fraction of a larger crowd, all staring at some sort of wooden structure. Sadly, they were far too short to peer past the other scavengers that towered over them, unable to see the great performance that had entertained all of them.

They could tug at one of the scavengers to give them uppies and have them see, but they worry that one of them might know the Chief and drag them back. As they looked around, slightly worried that they would miss out on the big event, they noticed a stack of boxes by one of the abandoned buildings, a stack of boxes that reached above the sea of scavengers. Finishing the skewer and placing it on one of the crates, the Prince began their expedition up the mountain of boxes. They have climbed plenty before, so the relatively small crates only served to slightly challenge them, slinging one leg and tail up before using the weight to roll over onto the next crate, repeating again and again. As they reached the top, puffing out air in exhaustion, they stood up and put their hands on their hip, proud of their accomplishment. They turned around, ready to see what-

Something sways in the wind.

The Prince recoils in shock, before looking again. And again. And again. Their eyes are playing tricks on them. They rubbed their eyes.

Something sways in the wind.

Red. A limp red corpse hung from the rope. Tail and arms were scarred with black fur. It swayed gently to the breezes of noon, tied to the wooden structure that held it. Prince wished they did not have good eyesight, because they saw everything. One of the eyes is still open, glazed over, dead. It feels like they were being looked at.

Something sways in the wind.

Why are they cheering?

Why are they cheering?

Why are they cheering?

WHY ARE THEY CHEERING?

Tears fell down the young Prince’s face, seeing something they had never wished to see. Was this why they were not allowed? Their mind was a haze as they leaped down from the stack of crates, sprinting wildly as their arm covered their eyes, uselessly wiping away tears that kept coming out. They sought comfort, yet they found none in the crowd of strangers. Something was pursuing after them. The Prince tripped, tumbling onto the ground before something lifted them into the air, the mask of a concerned elite who had spotted the wayward royal. They were apprehensive of them, scared of punishment, but the only thought in the Prince’s mind was to seek comfort. As the reality of the dream faded around them, the young prince sobbed away into the elite’s shoulders as they were carried back to the castle.

The Prince groggily stirred, turning his head to readjust his position in the comfortable cushion his head rested on. As the light gradually filtered through the heir of metropolis’s eyes, he saw the silhouette of Kane watching over him, affect too blurry to make out save for the eartlers that adorn the top of his head but intentions of care presumed. “Mmmmmh~” The demasked heir sleepily grumbled, turning his head on Kane’s leg towards his partner’s torso to shield him from the harsh rays of the sun that was disturbing this peaceful nap. “Flaaaames? How long have I slept-” as the Prince’s brain slowly rebooted from his slumber, the memories of the moments before his rest coalesced to make his eyelids shoot open, slowly realizing this was not the solitude of two that his heart had drifted to in absence of thought.

They were outside.

In an arena, with fellow elites.

Elites that can see them.

The Prince shot up from Kane’s lap, red with embarrassment as he attempted to sit back up nonchalantly and act casual in front of… wait, nevermind, the training grounds were empty now. This relief dawned into pure unfettered horror before he could even take a sigh, realizing that not only had he somehow slept through the end of the drill, but that throughout that period every elite could see him sleeping on his partner-to-be’s legs out in the open, acting so, so far out of line from the public persona of royalty groomed for leadership and combat that he was raised to perceive his own image as. “KANE!” The heir to metropolis hissed, bearing his teeth in frustration. “I told you to wake me up when the match ended! Did you seriously just do that in front of… ugh!”

“Don’t worry, Robbin did not call you or anything. He just dismissed everyone and they left for camp. I don’t want you to get picked off by a rogue vulture, so… I stuck around.” Kane snorted in amusem*nt. “Plus, it is basically public news at this point that we were a thing. It’s not like you tried to be sneaky around others either.” Prince huffed, crossing his arms and looking away from his partner. “Hey!” Kane yelled from behind. “You looked to be having a nightmare, alright? You were tossing around, legs kicking and mumbling something. Tried to wake you up, but you were a heavy sleeper.” The elite chuckled. “Didya find another remnant somehow and went into a vision or somethin’? Must be damn impressive since the nearest available one is all the way down at the canopies.”

“Oh…” the prince of Metropolis pursed his lips, face slightly hot still in a mixture of embarrassment and the aftermath of intimacy. “Guess it was not as internal as I thought, then.” Prince sighed. “Yes, I had a nightmare. A pretty bad one. It’s a memory from my youth that scarred me.” Kane looked on in sympathy. “Do you wanna talk about it? I really did not like how you looked when you were having that nightmare. Said some pretty cryptic stuff as well.” Prince looked down, silently shaking his head. “Sorry, Flames… not right now. I don’t think I am ready to talk about my past with you just yet.”

“And that’s alright.” Kane muttered with a slight hint of dejection in his voice. “Do you want at least a hug?” The Prince smirked. “You always knew what would cheer me up.” The two elites wrapped each other in a tight embrace, the dark green heir to the throne grabbing onto the large spines of Decanting Flames. “There, there. Now who is the weak dame who needs to be protected and comforted?” Prince rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you say the same the next time we go on a date in that abandoned building with a still-furnished bedroom. The tables have turned before, and you’d better prepare yourself because it is going to turn again and again.” The brown elite clicked in amusem*nt at this challenge. “Oh ho ho~ daring today, are we? I thought you said you didn’t like dirty talks out here.”

“No one’s here, dipsh*t.” Prince huffed. “Unless some creep is spying on us. I doubt it, though. They are messing with fire by meddling in the affairs of a royal. Actually,” Prince outstretched a hand, snapping his fingers. “Sofanthiel, scan for scavengers in 20-meter radius. With a flash, the golden drone jettisoned itself from his pack, quickly pointing an enemy arrow in Kane’s direction and nowhere else. “See? No one is gonna see us.” “You and that drone…” Kane chuckled. “Your dad certainly was more reserved in using his. Guess it has its benefits, though. Well, with that confirmed…”

Kane leaned in, Prince gently smiling and reciprocating the kiss to the mandibles. After some improvised make-out, the heir of Metropolis pulled away with a content sigh. “Hmm… honestly, I would like to stay here a bit more. Nothing more to do before din-” The Prince’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh sh*t.” He whispered. “I need to go, now.” He stood up, stuffing the drone back into his pack. “What? Wh- OH. Right, yeah,her. Yeah, you need to go quick. I will save some dinner for you when you come back.” The Prince nodded. “Thanks, Kane. I gotta go.” As Decanting Flames watched his future partner dash away at speeds impressive even for his kind, he clicked under his breath. “Good luck, Flare.”

For a long while, Prince walked in silence.

It was a lesser tread path in the city, an abandoned sector near the palace that he and Chieftan called home. From what the experienced scavenger, a legendary figure who was the one who unlocked the city thousands of cycles ago told, the majestic structure where their dwelling sat upon once had another name and another purpose. Equally lavish and decorated to those who built this land, a position of power that was now reborn to serve the next who claim the throne: Twelveth Council Pillar, the House of Braids. His father said that the iterator, Five Pebbles, could tell him more, but the bad results of his first meeting with the mechanical being had extinguished any courage to meet the robot anytime soon. It’s not like he really needed to learn more anyway, his communion with the Burning One and the Architect had told him all he needed about the shadowed pasts behind this opulent shrine.

He had followed this path dozens of times now. When he was younger, Chieftain guided him there as he could not defend himself, but now he wandered through the narrow passages and tunnels in solitude, the route to the location still etched deep into his mind. Just a few more tunnels and dark passages, and he will come to witness a place few has ever seen. Not even the black lizards wandered these abandoned buildings, so his only threat around here was the occasional yellow or cyan lizard wandering around on the short occasions the trail resurfaced in the open air.

Sliding out from a vent shaft, finally exiting the dark pipe tunnels into the interior of another building, the Prince arrived at the site he was to visit. Unlike the dusty ruins of the concrete and rusted metal, plant life still grew here, even the basem*nt levels starved of sunlight drooping with red vines. As he stood up, brushing the dust off his dark green fur, the Prince ascended the rusted metal steps into the abandoned greenhouse. A place encased in glass walls and ceilings, allowing the sun to shine through and nourish the various floras inside, it was certainly a strange sight to behold. It was, however, special for another reason: one of the only places up here with any sizable amount of natural fertile soil.

Unlike the outside, the air within was humid, the ancient systems still operating and keeping the life within this abandoned sanctuary nourished with water and nutrients. Radio ferns, nectar stalks, popcorn plants, brush vines, even a large orb tree as the centerpiece of the exhibit--- if he had seen a plant in the wilds, it was in here. If he had never seen the plant outside before, it was also in here. The Prince was not here to see sights, though, going through the wings of the exhibit and circling around its center to enter another sector. If the time were right, he would see noodlefly eggs dangling from the ceiling of the structure, but the breeding season for them would not hit until around 30 cycles later. For now, only the lesser bugs that were often seen buzzing around the farm arrays, likely descendants of the same bugs introduced when the fortress was still pulsing with life, accompanied him in the abandoned sanctuary.

Eventually, he found it. The area surrounding had clear signs of tampering, vines being cut away, and vegetation being torn out. Unlike the areas of the plantation neighboring it, brimming with ferns and flowers and other small plants, the patch of dirt in front of him was barren. Well, barren save for one thing: A stone slab planted vertically in the ground, engraved with both ancient and scavenger symbols. The largest symbol, taking up the center of the screen, was in ancient, supposedly translating into “outlaw”. Below are a series of smaller scavenger inscriptions, reading “Here lies Artificer. She has found her rest.” The prince stared at the grave, collecting thoughts, before finally speaking.

“Hey mom.” The dark green slugcat mumbled, falling to one knee in front of the gravestone of Metropolis’s greatest criminal.“It’s been a while since I visited, huh? Has been thirty cycles or so since I last went to give offerings here. I hope you understand. Training has been rough, and I just couldn’t spare time as much as I used to.”The prince let his words hang in the air for a few moments of contemplative silence. Only the occasional buzz of errant bugs or rustling in the foliage kept the slugcat company.“You would be happy to know how much progress I have made. I could now hold my own against the elite soldiers. I knew dad was real proud of me for that.”

Of course, the dead did not speak. The grave remained cold and still. “I wonder if I can ever live up to you? If you were alive to sparr with me, I wonder if I could down you and win a duel?” The adolescent slug mused, asking a question to the emptiness surrounding him. Even in the short amount of time they had spent together, the impact his adoptive mother had on him was immense, teaching him all the skills of survival and combat. Her powers might make it so that he could never best her in a duel, but they could just imagine the reaction. As he made his final move and pinned her to the ground, ensuring the tail was restrained from producing any blasts and holding a spear over her chest, he knew that Artificer would laugh and clap, jubilant that her child had become such a skilled warrior even without the blessings of her tribe’s bloodline.

“Dad has been treating me well, as usual. He has been getting stricter lately, but he is just training me to carry the mantle of Chieftan once he gets too old. He was up there in ages already, but he must stay with the lights on a little while longer to get me prepared. To think! One day, the residents of this city above the clouds would look to a slugcat of all creatures for leadership.” The Prince barked out a somber laugh, the anticipation of his new role not enough to lighten the mood. “Maybe… I can finally rein in the bands and tribes still remaining below. Finish the campaign of subjugation that my predecessor started. Ensure that what happened to you or me never happens ever again. Maybe… I could even invite some slugcats in here. Welcome those lost like us and seeking asylum their deserved life above the torrential downpours. I think you would ultimately like that, wouldn’t you?”

More silence. “Me and Kane are doing great. He is treating me well and Dad approves of our thing. I am pretty sure most of the other elites were aware of it as well by now. It’s not like we are hiding it too hard.” The Prince sighed. “Buuuut… I honestly think he is just looking out for this as for me to find my own ‘right hand scav’, be it romantic or just a regular trusted friend. Robbin would likely to be assisting me when dad retires, but he is not long for the world either. Dad is impressed with Kane’s skills and sees a bit of the elite captain in him… maybe come one day, he would earn his rank and be the Robbin for my reign. With the current high elites like Edith and Kastor dropping out to settle down and have kits, new rising stars have to pop up to fill the space. If not him, someone will come up to train the new elites.”

“You know, mom, I had a weird dream this afternoon. I remember when I was a pup… and I snuck out at what I thought was a festival. In all cases it was, but… I did not know that it was also your execution. Ha!” The Prince chuckled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I really didn’t know a lot back then, did I? Just a clueless pup that needed someone to take care of them. Dad did a great job covering everything up. He gave me and you a room to spend some cycles in getting comfy and prepped up, and after your little duel I did not suspect anything when you were linked to a chain.” Prince sniffled, memories of old coming up. “You were bawling your eyes out, but… you hugged me. Told me in what little ways you can that everything was going to be okay. That I would live a great life. I did not even question why you no longer visited me and dad. I didn’t… dammit.”

The green slugcat choked out a sob, wiping it away the tears with their forearm. “They… they were justified on that day. You were a murderer, a terrorist, a destroyer of families. So many did not deserve your wrath, and there is no way for you to ever make it up to the survivors.” The tears continued to flood out. “They deserved to celebrate, to cheer, to watch on as you ascended that podium in chains. That is the only way for the shattered survivors to get their justice, to see their nightmare finally get their dues. I… I wish I followed Dad’s instructions that day. That festival was not for me, and… I escaped. I wanted to join in on the fun. I… I…”

“I missed you, mom.” The floodgate of tears finally lifted, the prince falling on both knees and sobbing inconsolably over the dirt of the grave. Underneath the shallow pile of dirt would be a repurposed casing of metal, by now containing nothing but a pile of bones. “Void… I thought this was all in the past. I was not the same dumb pup who latched onto you as their mom the instant you took them in. I was not the same dumb pup who trashed the house and sulked for days on end after seeing you die. I was not the same dumb pup who bawled at your grave when he led me to it. But… I still am.” The dark green slugcat heaved, breath shuddering from tears.

“I didn’t even know your name back then, mom. I wouldn’t have. Artificer was a complicated word.” The Prince sobbed. “I know so much more now, and yet I still can’t just see it.” He felt as if he was about to throw up, but the dry heave gave up nothing of his stomach’s contents. “I would have died down there, drained and eaten by spiders if you did not show up that cycle. You cared for me. You raised and nurtured me as your own. You calmed me down when I had nightmares. You always promised that you would be back when you left me. I saw you as much of a mother as my birth parents… just that their names and identities were truly lost to history. Out of them… you are the only one I have left to grieve. I should hate that fact. I should be angry that the other two were lost when you weren't… but I am not.”

“Even now, I miss you so much, mom. I want you to still be here, to watch when I first learned to cook, to watch when I crafted an electric spear, to watch when I enlisted into the army force, to watch when I won my first duel, to watch when I was knighted as an elite. I could have gone to you on so many nights of anxiety and fear, to fall into your arms and hear your soft chirps, to know in my heart that this is just another wave that will only strengthen my mind. Do you have any idea, mom?” The Prince looked up at the gravestone, tears still flowing down. “Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I had, stressed about not belonging, stressed about training, stressed about responsibility, that I had wished for justice to be undone? I wished from the bottom of my heart for the refugees to continue to get nightmares from your existence if it meant that you would be hugging me as I rode through wave after waves of panic? I felt horrible. So many of my friends, so many of those who I call my second family, they lost friends to you. They lost relatives to you. Some elites that trained alongside me were even kits of terrified refugees fleeing you and me from up the wastes. Some of them still wake up screaming in the middle of the night because of you. And here I was, betraying them all selfishly just because I wanted another moment with you. Just another moment for a lost pup to be reunited with his mother.”

“What would you say if you could rise out of the grave and see me right now? Would you be proud, mom?” Prince slowly got up back to a kneel, wiping of the draining reservoirs of tears on his face. “You would probably say that big pups don’t cry. And… I would probably call you out on it. You cried all the time. You showed me just how vulnerable one should be.” He let out a light chortle of laughter, something unexpected even to himself. “I’m glad that no one is here to see me be this disheveled. No one thinks highly of you, not even dad, even though he understands why I still miss you so much. They could not catch a future leader grieving for the city’s greatest murderer.”

With a sigh, he stood up. “In seventeen cycles would be the thousandth cycle since your death. I… would need to prepare something for this occasion. A special gift for your gravestone. I am sure I could pay the crafters to makesomething.” He looked at the grave solemnly, hands reaching into his pack. “Maybe it would be time for Kane to finally join me on one of these outings. I trust him enough to understand why I still feel this way about you.” Finally, he reached the package he had kept for today, the one meant to rest on his mother’s grave until it withered into dust.

The first part of what he packed was two cherrybomb bushes, freshly picked from one of the gardens in the city where they were grown. They were laid vertically on either side of the tombstone, creating a gap in the middle for their second and final gift. It may look like a pouch of fire powder, one that was a dime a dozen among the ones the tribe created for their arsenal, but it took a pearl or two just to get the inert bricks of these powders from the merchants approaching the facility walls. You see, these were not merely any ordinary dust, but enhanced fire powder, one that can pack much more of a punch while active and burn longer while inert. More than that, it was something that could only be produced from the Burning Mire, a region famed for a tribe whose members inherit the explosive powers from the land, a region that Artificer came from long before everything that took place.

Had it been undiluted enhanced fire powder, even the small amount stored in this small bag made of fine cloth would have been more than enough to turn him into a mangled corpse. Of course, this had since been watered down and mixed with sand and dried plants to turn it inert, with it only capable of being a good firestarter or hand warmer in its current state. Sprinkling the little piece of their adoptive mother’s former home over her grave, the Prince resealed the now mostly empty pouch, looking over it all one last time before packing up and getting ready to leave.

“Give my regards to your original pups, would you? I am sure they would be excited to hear from me.”The Prince redonned his elite mask and slung his pack over his shoulder once more, preparing to exit the hidden sanctuary where Artificer’s remains still lie. Night was going to fall soon, and he should reconvene with Kane and the others to report back to duty and get dinner. As dark green slugcat lept out of the broken down greenhouse’s exits, the outlaw’s grave returned to its natural, undisturbed state, the breezy beginnings of the nighttime wind rocking the vines strung from the roof, a serene sight of solitude left for none to see.

Chapter 11: The Aprils Fools oneshot

Chapter Text

Oh, to be her back then.

She would not say that the experience changed her, but seeing her pup in that twisted dream was a sort of relief. It felt so real. She could feel the sulfuric air stinging the scavenger’s nostril hairs, she could feel the gravel beneath his feat, she could see every nervous twitch and shiver as her pup cowered, pearl dropped and silently pleading for mercy. Had she had any control, she would have burst into tears and sprint towards them, mouth instinctively chittering despite lacking the means for so in an attempt to console her lost child, console them that they are going to be safe.

What would have happened on that day had that scavenger not attacked? They could have lived. A few of the toll guards were already going away. Maybe they could have been let in before the rain struck, given some pity among the more compassionate living in the toll grounds. It would not be a good night to sleep for them or her. She only got a tiny glimpse of what a toll den looked like, but it was quite filthy and closed off. Even if they could sleep through the rain down there, she doubted they would find the mood to rest, even if the scavengers there were friendly to them. They would miss their mother badly and would not be able to calm down enough to have a night of proper sleep.

She herself would not sit too well with it either. The Artificer of the past would be unaware of how incredibly lucky she was, to narrowly dodge the needle that guided the thread of fate that pierced both her pups and her eye, to end with her laying slumped in that shelter, clawing at the wound and howling in grief until her throat went dry. No, she knew that she was a good mother. She knew that she would not wish scare her surviving pup too badly, she was the only pylon of stability in their world and she must remain steadfast and confident for them to stay reassured. This Artificer would probably look strained, pacing around frantically and breaking into tears, but she would have to sleep eventually for the sake of her child's comfort. She would come back to the tribe in hopes of tracking them down or at least to collect a body, only to see her pup nice and alive if not a little bit dirtied up, and she could probably trade them back for a pearl to reunite her small family. It would be stressful, she would not sleep well for cycles after that in fear of losing them again, and she would look upon this day with distaste in the future, but they would be alive and united. She could continue to find her way to the city and perhaps even become one within its ranks.

Yet, this alternate reality was all but inaccessible to her, to one who she now knows to be one singular scavenger who parted reality itself with his impulses to break the line and cause her to go down this path. She had thought about him plenty, that nagging thought dragging her restless mind alone as she watched her young travel companion rest on her like a normal pup, silently providing the needed physical comfort that the pup so desperately craved and yet not acting the part mentally or emotionally. The thoughts were once of immense violence, to hunt him down again and to tear him to pieces. Yet, she was not completely insane. Artificer knew how much she had killed, how many warriors were sent out to hunt her down. If not killed in the immediate massacre, he was bound to have perished to her in one of her many following attacks. She was green with regret, unable to bring him back from the dead to properly enact the torture she intended to perform on this vile murderer. What an irony it was that she shared this pattern of thought with another, another that she had narrowly missed and now lay a burnt husk atop a tower of metropolis, the mask that made his identity now forever melded to his visage.

But… as the echoes were encountered one by one, her thoughts… shifted. About the scavengers. Were it not for the one single outlier, the others would have probably spared her pup. The others could have had the sympathy that one did not possess and used it to protect her pup from the rain, to allow their family to be reunited. In that cyclic suicidal charge against the toll, she could have killed these benevolent scavengers tens, if not over a hundred times. She was not exactly one to count how many times she lept into that toll and got brutally impaled, she was too wrapped in her own grief for her to even think properly. Whatever that number is, she knew it was at the very least thirty-five. She remembered leaping into the poll distinctly thirty-five times in no particular order, and no idea how many attempts existed between each them. The rest... it all blended together.

Well, she argued, silently battling with herself in the middle of the night, body curled around the one who would be her pup as they snored peacefully, unaware of the mental turmoil within; she proposed that said benevolent scavengers might not exist after all. To hell with all her interactions with the scavengers in her homeland up to this point, she was not thinking rationally. All of them charged under that murderer’s lead, and another killed her pups, another that she saw with her remaining eye and made sure to kill. If they were not malevolent, they were headstrong and only followed others. A weaker justification, but a justification for total eradication nonetheless, a fuel to continue burning the engine and drive her to seek closure.

That was, of course, until she met the elite captain. Despite their destain for each other, Artificer saw a warrior captain in him, one who has a code of morality and a pledge of loyalty and follows both above all else. Others may call that mindset idealistic, naive, or set to fail, but she knew he was anything but. He was older than her, and if the stories of conquest and bloodshed the Chieftain’s army had wrought in their quest to subjugate the lower tribes were true, then she knew that this general had more experiences than any of her own tribe’s living war captains, only fighting border skirmishes in a bloated and stagnant tribal empire or extorting from the subject tribes. She admired that mindset, for she once held it as well when she was a crafter trying to shift her home for the better.

Nothing could have prepared her for what he had done next, when he abetted a criminal he despised to save her from his mutinying squadron, freeing her and planning to bring her to the Chieftain by himself to finish a promise to an old friend, but also to sacrifice his own life to defending the different-species pup of a serial murderer when he could have easily sold them out and went free. At that moment, she knew a fact whispered in the back of her mind for many cycles now, that she had no grounds at all for killing scavengers without prejudice, that she had killed many who could have been as honorable or friendly or kind or generous in her endless quest. So, she gave up her grudge to escape to the outside world and give a new life to the pup.

Yet… it all came flooding back.

Artificer could hardly wait a second longer when she set the pup on the floor and told it in a firm thump to Stay. Still. She gave them their pearl to play with to distract themselves from when she would spew out hellfire onto these scavengers for what they had done. Her legs shook, and the moment the pup grasped the pearl and looked down at it, Artifcier lept out from the crates and jumped upwards with an explosive jump, throwing the bomb in her hand right into the chest of the elite next to her target as her trajectory reached its apex. By the time she reached the ground, the two scavenger elites were crippled and badly bruised, only capable of helplessly watching as she walked casually down to the two fallen scavengers, the lesser soldiers were already bolting away down the alleys. “Run away, cowards!” The red slugcat clicked at the fleeing subordinates. “This battle is not of your making. I have something to settle and I have no energy chasing you down.”

The red slugcat pulled out a normal spear from the elite’s belt, stabbing it down into the murderer’s abdomen to pin him in place. He screamed in pain, but Artificer only felt nothing but sweet, sweet elation at that. After grabbing out the other elite’s back spears and planting them into the wall, Artificer demasked her and put the brown scavenger in a stranglehold, holding up the scavenger with surprising strength. The elite tried to struggle, eyes full of fear, but the bloody bruise on her chest showed that she was internally hemorrhaging and did not have the energy to escape or resume battle. “So… you enter our city.” The scavenger clicked.

“Have been for a while.” Artificer sneered. “I have dealt with elites far stronger than you before. I just dealt with six, in fact.” Artificer bluffed, the truth of the matter---had it been known---would have made her seem a lot less intimidating. “Now, I ask you a few questions.” The brown elite tried to struggle, but eventually sighed and aquiesced. “What you want?”

“First question. Your partner here. What is his name and where did he come from?” Artificer coldly clicked, the scavenger responding in kind. “Cartridge Loader, short name Carl. He a soldier from wastes, come up here recently when fleeing you. Promote to elite.” Her smile curled into a grin. “That’s all I needed to hear. Second question: do you have any kits who could not defend themselves?” The elite tensed, looking away presuming this was so that they could be hunted down, but eventually she gave in. “Three.”

Artificer dropped the elite on the ground, tossing the elite mask on her. “Run along now, go join the rest of your troop and find a healer to tend to your bruise. You have a family that needed you.” Suspiciously, the elite slowly backed away, suspecting that she was playing with her food and fully preparing for the slugcat to change her mind and lunge at her in the blink of an eye. “Go talk to the Chieftain if you like. I would be long gone before he could rally anything. Carl here, however,” Artificer pointed her spear at the gray scavenger, “has done more damage to me and your society than you could ever know. If you know what is right with the world, you were pursued by me and did not know where I was. Your partner Carl died fending me off.” With that, the elite nodded and limped off, clutching to her bruised front still. Artificer turned towards the killer of her pups, grinning ear to ear. “Hello, old friend.” She snarled, rage barely concealed in the thin veneer of false positivity.

“Look, slug, I can say-” Artifcer made a quiet, shushing sound, removing Carl’s mask and placing a finger on his mandibles. “No no, you don’t get to talk yet.” She quietly chuckled. “You did not spare my pups a second thought when you killed them, but I am not going to do the same. I want closure, every last piece of information I wanted to know to satisfy my desires. You are wounded, and impalement wounds are almost impossible to recover from. Tell me everything, and I will kill you. I will make you feel every single bit of suffering that I felt when I lay in that shelter alone and lost every reason I had to live.”

“Let’s get started. Don’t move around too much, it will make you bleed out sooner.” Artificer clicked. “First and biggest question. Why? ” Artificer gritted her teeth. “Why did you kill my pups when they returned the pearl? When they were begging for mercy? When others accepted that mercy and decided to let them live? WHY?!” She was practically screaming at the end, not caring in the world if it gets attention, cycles of buried grief and rage finally finding a weak point. Carl looked frantically around. “I-I’m sorry! I wanted to impress tribe that day and get rid danger!”

“And your idea of that was to target a harmless pup actively cowering and fawning?” She gnashed her teeth, sparking foam spilling out of her mouth. “Unlike some warriors I met, you are the most despicable and cowardly one of them all. They made you an elite?” “I… I never said I not coward.” The gray scavenger tried to move around, but grunted in pain as the spear made contact with the open wound through their stomach. “I am wrong. I help the tribe go get your other pup and kill you for passing with no pay. They kill other pup, not me.” Artificer felt her hands trembling, eyes shaking and struggling to form coherent clicks as a maelstrom ravaged her mind. “Then you should have killed me as well. I deserved to die that day with my pups, but your cruelty has left me with unfinished business. I can never pass on if I do not get my dues.”

“Next question. Did you visit a remnant by the name of Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves while you turned tail and ran up the city?” Carl frantically nodded. “Y-yes! I exited early next cycle to head to fortress, then when hear of attack I went to the citadel and up the water towers to get to walls of fortress and enter city. I saw the remnant you talk about.” Artificer smiled. “Good, did you suffer? Did he taunt you with memories and regrets of the past? Did he show you murdering my pups for a pearl?” “Yes. I was buried alive and twisted into pearl.” She nodded in contentment. “It is lucky you got to experience such. Keep that memory in mind as that is going to seem like paradise compared to what I am going to do to y-”

“WAWAAA!” Artificer snapped out of her trance, her maternal instincts flaring at the shrill, distressed calls of her pup. She turned to look, gasping in shock as her pup was out in the open, someone pursuing them. It was, surprisingly, not the elite she spared, but one of the subordinate soldiers who circled back alone. The pup had tripped, crawling on their back away from the approaching scavenger holding a spear. The world turned to slow motion, Artificer’s hand felt sluggish as adrenaline made her perceive the world with a closer look, gripping a bomb and cursing at the fact that it was not a rock. Had it been such, she could have chucked it directly at the scavenger without fearing the impact of shrapnel piercing the pup. She calculated at Mach speed, positioning the bomb’s destination to be slightly behind the scavenger so that they would block most of the blast.

As the scavenger raised up their spear, Artificer let out an animalistic yowl that she did not expect her throat to ever make, like a wild animal with only tooth and claw standing in front of her spawn and baring teeth at predators looking to make them an easy meal. It took the scavenger off guard, and she smiled as she chucked the bomb, the activated explosive screeching closer, and closer, and closer…

stab

The corpse of the scavenger went flying, but that was not what Artificer was focusing on. Upon the pup was a new wound, angry and spurting with blood.

“NO!”

The pup beamed up at her. “Thanks, miss! You were great also!” She instinctively let out a soft laugh. They were a sweet kid when off the set, raised by good parents and had excellent manners. They were able to sell off a ton of different emotions, including the trauma-inducing horror that was the previous shot. Seeing them able to glaze up their eye like that and stab the prop spear was… unnerving, to say the least, but they won the audition for a reason. Hopefully, a pup like them could still get the proper nurture and education to grow up successful, she had seen many tales of the exact opposite happening to those who joined the industry so early.

As the makeup artists ferried them off to get cleaned up and handed them to their parents, Artificer wiped the imitation blood and charcoal off with a wet towel, too exhausted to clean herself off fully and just wishing to go home. Still, such was the prize to pay for being the breadwinner of the household. Her contract on the TV show would not stop for at least another year, and it paid well enough for a comfortable lifestyle for all of them. It was worth a few aching bones to be able to afford such a living standard for her and her family, especially as a widower.

…f*ck traffic, though.

She sighed as the city went under gridlock, cars full of meandering slugcats and scavengers seeking to return home after the end of their shift. The chorus of honks of annoyed drivers filled her ears, causing tinnitus even with her trained resistance. She had accustomed herself to the jarring sound of explosives, something she sadly had to hear a lot due to the role her character played in the TV show. What a crock load of lizard sh*t! She only had a few medical courses in college, but she knew that no “mutation” or “natural selection” could allow a slugcat to withstand a blast with tough hide, much less prevent internal hemorrhaging! Still, it was fantasy, and she would have to admit, having her essentially act as herself from an alternate bioengineering-based universe had made her, at least in the eye of her pups, much cooler than just a regular slugcat who had an eye scar because of a mugging-gone-wrong.

Just as she was about to join in the fray, to tap into her hidden reservoir of anger that her show-alternate self apparently had in strides, her phone buzzed as her hand hovered inches over the horn at the center of her steering wheel. With a sigh, Artificer sat back and placed the phone near her ears to call. “Yes? I am driving right now.” A voice comes out the other end. “Yeah, you and the kids can eat first. I think it will be a bit before I can get back to our apartment. How did they do in school today?” The car slowly inched forward, being under the reins of a mildly distracted driver. The red slugcat could not help but smile at the recountings from the caller in the receiver.

“I’m glad they are playing along now. Nothing sent from the school office?” Artificer lightheartedly chirped. “Alright, I got you. So excited to try out this new recipe you said you are planning to do. What were my little connoisseurs’ ratings?” She grinned ear to ear as the phone on the other side visibly shifted, the distant dissonant approvals of her two pups conglomerating into an amalgam of words that vaguely crystallized into the statement that the food was good. “I’m glad they liked it. Can’t wait to try out what you got, honey. See you soon.” Artificer made a kissy face into the microphone of the cell phone, ending the call with a high mood.

The rest of the drive… was nothing interesting. She eventually exited the gridlock, entered the underground parking garage of the apartment complex, and exited with her purse back to her apartment. Entering into the courtyard, most were already in their buildings for dinner or out with friends, so the grassy field decorated with a few radio palms was empty of any residents. Placing her keycard into the entrance of the apartment, she rode her way up to floor 15, suite 153. When she had found success in the acting world, she had moved her pups from the dingy blocks near the lower-class districts to a place much swankier, able to purchase a condo near the top of the newly developed housing for them to live in the luxury that they deserved for what she had put them through.

As the door clicked and opened, she could hear the sound of cartoons running on the TV. The suite opened to the entrance facing the kitchen-dining room combo peeking over the entrance corridor, the table still dirtied with the two messy eaters that inhabited this household. Hearing the door unlocking, the two pups jumped down from their comfy sofa nesting spot facing the projector TV and ran towards the red slugcat, already on her knees with arms wide open. “Mom! Mom!” Malachite squeaked excitedly as the two pups collided into Artificer’s embrace. “I got first place at my class’s kahoot tournament today!” Artificer roared with prideful laughter, bringing in her green pup closer to her and using one fist to ruffle the top of their head. “That’s my daughter! So smart already!”

As the brief session of roughousing came to a close, Artificer stood up as the pups still chattered excitedly among themselves. She quickly glanced towards the dining table’s end, where her boyfriend, still in uniform, sat reading a book. Saint was a well-read archivist at Luna University with a luscious green coat of fur and a strong inclination towards cleanliness, but he had moved in here temporarily during the solstice break to act as a free nanny for her pups. The two locked eyes, and with a knowing nod, the green slugcat sat up to reheat the food prepared for dinner. “So, kids, how was your day today afterschool?”

“We had so much fun!” Azurite piped up, jumping up and down. “Uncle Saint took us out to get ice cream, and when we got back home he gave us his switch for us to play on his save file of Worm Calculus III! His account was so much higher level than ours and we got to beat up some bosses!” The red slugcat smirked, looking back up at Saint with a wink. He probably deserved a prize after taking care of her pups so well, but that would be for when the pups are away for day tutoring on the weekends. “Alright, perfect. Since it is a Friday, how about you guys get comfy on the couch first and select a movie or show? I go eat my dinner while you two sort everything out! Saint and I would make the popcorn after we ate, and we can all cuddle together and binge whatever you guys choose!”

Azurite’s eyes lit up. “Can we watch A Way O-” Artificer put a hand up. “G rated shows only, sorry. You two can watch my performance when you are big pups.” The chorus of disappointments echoed throughout the living room. “I know, I know, you want to watch me adventuring with this kid Flare, but it is too bloody to go through! I barely knew why they even allowed a child actor in there instead of, like, CGI or something! Putting my foot down, too mature.” Malachite started to whine. “But moooooooom… I wanna see how they are like… my friend’s older brother watched it and said that Flare was super cool and stuff…”

“Look, I will make you a deal, alright?” Artificer sighed. “I… will talk to their parents. They are only a grade older than you, so… maybe we can set up a playdate between you three. Maybe they could spoil a few film details for you.” The sadness immediately left their faces as they heard the news, the pups now leaping back in joy again. “Thanks, mama! You’re the best!” Artificer smirked. “Alright, you two, go pick out the movie. Saint and I will come soon to watch with you.” In the blink of an eye, the space near her legs had become vacant, the twins bounding into the living room couch as they raced for the remote first.

“I wanna watch The Journey Home!” “No! That’s boring! I want to watch Hero again! That was so cool!” “We watched Hero like four times already! I am bore-” Artificer sat down with Saint just coming in to deliver the piping hot food, Artificer was having a stir-fry of blue lizard with cherrybomb-infused sauce and pepper and onion aromatics plated over a plate of long-grain rice while Saint had some stock-infused steamed cucumbers and some sauteed scallions with a bowl of rice on the side. “Kids, eh?” She chuckled as Saint took out his pill box for his B12 and Omega-3 fatty acid supplements for his diet. Contrary to what her friends thought, he does not have a moral issue with meat, just a digestive disorder that prevents him from eating meat. He ate eggs occasionally, but generally prefers pure greens for his usual meals.

“You were dealing with quite the handful, that’s for sure.” Saint faintly smiled, taking a gulp of water before swallowing the pill whole. “They had a good day today, and I managed to wrangle them into doing their homework.” Artificer broke a snicker. “Yeah, they are quite reluctant to do that, but I taught them well.” She took a sniff at the unique smell of her meal, the seasoning not unusual in her diet but still smelled appealing all the same. “Ah, that’s the good stuff. You know, for a vegetarian, you can fry up some good meats.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the distant argument of their pups fighting over the remote in the background when Saint piped up again. “...when do you think we should tell them?” Artificer shed her levity, lips pursed and gently set down her spoon and one-time-use chopstick. “Arti… I am not sure how we could break it to them. I mean… they love me, but… they still miss their dad.” He turned around, gesturing to a high-up shelf where a few pictures stood, one of them with the picture of a more mossy green slugcat, a small plate of burnt-out incense still smoking before it. “How could we tell them that you found someone new that was… not him?”

Artificer sighed, looking down. “I… dunno. It has been a while since he died, and I have long since accepted that I should be able to move on and find someone new to love.” The red slugcat absentmindedly poked at her food. “I think… they should be able to accept that as well, that I loved their dad but that I love you now to the same degree.” She stiffly laughed, staring wistfully at her children unaware of the conversation taking place just meters away. “Pups are smarter than they look, you know? I think they already sensed that there was something else going on between us that was more than ‘just friends’. Maybe it won’t be as big of a transition as we think.”

“Let’s just eat first,” Saint said. “We got a movie to attend to. We wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, do we?” Artificer rolled her eyes. “Right, you sure you aren’t just saying that to push back the question further?” With a mocking reluctance, Artificer picked up her utensils. “We... can talk more about this in bed. I am thinking of breaking the news sometime next week. Maybe we can bring them to an amusem*nt park and tell them on the ride back home?” The green slugcat nodded, a smile plastered on his face. “That’s the master schemer I have fallen in love with. We will do that, then. Let’s eat.” Artificer sighed in contentment at this resolution, using the chopstick to pick up a long, fatty piece of lizard meat and biting down.

“Mmmmh… lizard…” Artificer mumbled in her dream. “Great… cooking… park…” the slugcat shifted in their makeshift nest, face moving until her mouth detected something… small. Instinctively, she bit down on the dark green finger of a slugcat, not hard enough to cause serious damage but hard enough to awaken the finger’s owner.

“Gah!” Grovetender’s eyes shot open as his transition into lucidity was vastly accelerated, pain shooting through his nerves as he tugged the finger out of Artificer’s sharp incisors. “Babe, what in the HELL was that!” The moss-coated slugcat crossly demanded, shaking his unconscious mate awake. “mmm… huh?” Artificer groggily opened her eyes, vision unblurring as she saw her mate right in front of her, and looking between them, she saw two almost newborn pups taped to her abdomen, snoozing away before their morning meal. “Wait… hold on, Groves, I need… to get the facts straight here.” Grovetender sighed, but allowed her to continue her reality check.

“I… am Artificer, a crafter, and you are… Grovetender, my mate and father of our pups.” The mossy green slugcat nodded. “We are… finding a new home, and… our pups were only born two cycles ago… we were… right!” Her eyes lit up in recognition. “We were… in a big shelter, we found it eight cycles ago because I started to slime heavy and we hunkered down and made a nest for me to have our pups, and I am… recovering? I think? I remember the process taking a lot of energy out of me.” Her mate did not look amused but grudgingly nodded. “You got it right. Bad dream?”

“Heh heh…” Artificer wearily laughed. “You could call it that. It was so weird. I was… an actress? Like a performer. There were a lot of things I saw in that dream.” Grovetender smiled. “How about we talk about this as we lay here for a bit longer? We have enough lizards left to not bother hunting for today… I could afford to skimp out on gathering. A whole day of just us and our pups. How does that sound?” Artificer practically beamed. “Absolutely excellent.”

“So… I think in this universe… I was acting---performing---for a tv show. Not sure what is a “TV”, but just think something slugs can watch through.” Artificer tried to explain what her mind conjured up in this dream. “I think… the pups are older. Like three, four hundred cycles old? They went to school, and I lived in this… big apartment. Building block. I’m not sure what it is exactly called, but it is like a stack of dens on top of each other.”

Grovetender heartily laughed. “I think I have an idea what you are saying. You heard of the place we are moving? The city on the top of a fortress? I heard that there's gonna be a lot of stacked building on there.” The red slugcat stroked her chin, considering the facts. “Hmm… yeah! Maybe my experience with operating these ‘apartments’ in my dream would be useful in our new life.” The dark green slugcat smiled. “Hey, maybe this is a premonition of some kind! Like it is representing of our future life atop that city!” However, Artificer’s face quickly dropped.

“Oh? What’s wrong?” Grovetender asked, slightly concerned at Artificer’s change in attitude. “It’s just… I hope you didn’t jinx it with that.” Artificer muttered. “In that dream… you were dead. Dead for some time now. Car accident, I think.” The green slugcat looked down somberly, not thinking to question what is a 'car'. “Oh… sorry, then. I am sorry that another version of you would have to go through that alone. I could never fathom leaving my pups or their mother like that.” He looked… nervous, but tried to laugh it off. “Eh, it's probably nothing. Plus, I am all protected! Remember that promise?”

“What promise?” Artificer asked, a bit puzzled. However, she soon realized. “Oh~” She smiled, covering up her blush. “right, that promise.” “Yeah, I was a bit worried for a sec that the labor and the birth had knocked something out of ya!” Grovetender heartily laughed. “Of course, I was talking about that promise. You know, when we watched that pyre burn ablaze, watching the last remnants of my letters turn into ash, I knew I had to do it. You were crying because I wrote all this heartfelt sappy sh*t for if I was on the run or imprisoned or dead on these alternate scenarios, and I GOTTA cheer you up somehow, right?”

“Please tell me what happened next, Groves.” Artificer closed her eyes, smiling in contentment. “I want to relive that moment again.” “Will do, Fire Cherry. I gotta get all my pistons firing for this masterclass storytellin’. So…” Artificer retreated into her mind space, using the voice of her lover to guide her to her past. “After we burnt the letters, you were sobbing uncontrollably, partially out of joy and partially because you were carrying two pups that made your brain go all haywire, right? And I was panicking to all hell and back trying to calm you down. After trying to hug you or kiss you and that didn’t work, I knelt down on my knees next to the log and took your hand in mine, looking at both you and our pups still preparing themselves for the big wild world. They were takin’ a nap that moment, but I’m sure they as attentive as when they are being rowdy little sons-of-bitches and giving you a hard time in there.”

“I just want to say this again, before you continue with the story.” Artificer knew her cheeks were flushed red right now, like a flustered adolescent slug when she was anything but. “I love you so, so much.” Grovetender laughed. “Oh? When did you find that fact out? I sure hope it was before we had our pups, otherwise all those cycles of courting and romance was for nothing! You were a hard-to-get lady, you know!” The explosive slugcat gently shook her head. “A strong independent crafter who needed no love for completion, that was the identity I built for myself with pride. I never expected for myself to fall for… well, anyone, so maybe that is why I let my guard down when we first met and allowed myself to grow infatuated.” Artificer pursed her lips. “Anyways, get to the juicy part of the speech. The pups are bound to wake up soon, and I don’t want the experience to be ruined by them crying out for food.”

“Alright… uhh…” Grovetender stumbles, trying to think. “So… blah blah blah how we met, blah blah blah you are beautiful and parent sh*t, blah blah blah reunion, seeing our pups, right, promise.” A thump of fist hitting palm was heard. “So, you were already pretty much calmed down after I said how excited I was to see our kids, right? I did a crap ton of sweet talking and you were basically peachy already, but I decided to go one step further. I said, in quotes,” Grovetender pauses for suspense, “No matter what, though, I promise you and our pups this. So long as life continues on, I will never leave you again. We will never be separated again. We will see our pups become adults, we will see them find mates and have pups of their own, we will grow old together as we watch the sunset, we will take the gamble to see which one would see the other on their deathbed and mourn the loss for just a while longer. I am humble enough to say that one slugcat could not change the world, but… I am damn willing to go into a fistfight against fate itself if it deems me to die for it to weave its story. The loom of narratives could burn into cinder for all I care, a loom that separates partners from partners and parents from child is a loom worth burning.”

Artificer opened her eyes to her mate, her mind contentment manifest. “You were always great at storytelling, you know that? With how you write your words, I think most slugs would be surprised by your accent.” Grovetender softly stroked the top of Artificer’s head, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. “The same could be said for you as well. I could have never imagined someone from your tribe to be… so well-spoken. Maybe this is just another way we are truly meant for each other, hmm?” Artificer wanted to smile, but then she remembered… Saint. She was dating someone in that world. She had moved on even though he was now laying right in front of her. A stabbing needle of guilt entered her heart.

“Groves?” Artificer squeaked out, looking quite forlorn to her mate’s dismay. “Can I… tell you the truth?” Grovetender silently rolled over and put an arm over her side, purposefully avoiding squishing their pups. Artificer shakily did a sigh, and told the truth. “In that dream… I fabricated someone. His name is Saint. I don’t think I have seen anyone like him before. He looks like you… but lighter. More mild-mannered. More fluffy. I don’t think he is an idealized version of you or anything, I like how you look and act better, but… I don’t know.” Artificer buried her head into Grovetender’s chest. “I… in that dream, I felt nothing but love for him, the same feeling that I held for you all this time. I even said that I wanted to move on in that dream, and now I feel so, so horrible. Does that…” Artificer could feel her eyes wet up with tears. “What does this mean of me? To dream of something like that? Am I bad for thinking of a world without you and with someone else?”

Grovetender pulled her close. “Oh, Cherry… don’t think like that. We do not control our dreams. Our minds conjure visions of all kinds out of thin air, and none of them represent us.” Artificer shakily sighed. “It feels so bad now, to not only think of being whisked away from you… but to know that I may heal and move on eventually. That there even is a future without you.” The mossy slugcat softly nuzzled the top of Artificer’s head, locking the two in a tight embrace. “Do you remember the contents of the fourth letter? The one I saved for the worst-case scenario where I was executed by my tribe? I took cycles to write that. It was the most painful thing I ever wrote. Yet… the word within it remains true all the same, Arti. You are strong. Stronger than you realize.”

He squeezed Artificer a little bit tighter, staring wistfully at the large shelter chamber guarded by two hydraulic gates. “There may even be a world out there, a world where that letter was the first to reach you. It would be horrible, but… I know you will make it through. You are proud, and you are headstrong. You will find a new meaning to life no matter what you go through.” Artificer remains silent, muffled snifflings coming from the mossed slugcat’s chest. “Say… this ‘Saint’. How does he treat our pups?” The red slugcat looked back up. “Very well.” Artificer mumbled. “They see him as an uncle. He makes sure to remind them to respect and remember their dad.”

Grovetender lightly chuckles. “Even in your dreams, you were a great crafter all the same. Looks like you have manifested a great slug to fall for after my absence, hmm?” Artificer remained silent, avoiding his gaze and feeling conflicted. “Listen, Cherry, you know me to be a cautious type. It takes a certain mind to write an escape manual for every possible iteration of where I would end up. I do not control fate, and I know it punches hard. Harder than anyone can withstand.” Grovetender solemnly sighs. “I am as likely to die then as I am now. Lizards, scavengers, slugcats, rain, starvation, disease, I am humble enough to admit that I could never prevent all of them. Call this a promise, a contingency, whatever, but know this, alright?” He looked into Artificer’s eyes. “In case I ever fall to any of these things, you do not have to go through the rest our our pups’ lives alone. You may not feel it, but… you will find a way out eventually. You always do. I give you my blessings if you encounter a Saint in the future of your life. You deserve to be as happy and as loved as you are with me, and that is going to be damn hard going through it by yourself.”

Artificer softly smiled, leaning in for a kiss with Grovetender. “You always worry too much, Groves. I hope your contingencies remains unused as alway-” She paused, sensing a tug at her abdomen. Looking down, it looked like her green pup had woken up and beelined for the food source, nursing from her in contentment. “Ah, there we have it. I was worried when they were not waking up by then. That was always when they get active, like clockwork.” Artificer joked, slightly wincing as the pup being a toothy (gummy? she knew their teeth had not grown out yet) baby and nipping down on her hard in a desperate gambit for sustenance. “Can’t wait for our other pup to wake up and join in on the fray.”

As the mother slugcat watched down at her pups with love, Artificer suddenly got reminded of something. “Say… I actually made up names for these two in my dream.” Grovetender raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Pup names or actual names?” “Pup name. The blue one is Azurite, the green one Malachite.” The mossy green slugcat smiled. “Rocks, huh? Well, I like them. Y’sure this whole dream thing is not just some elaborate scheme to get me to name them that?” Artificer looked in mild irritation. “What? I’m just saying, you are quite the schemer.” The mossy slugcat laughed. “Plus, I like the name! Fits the naming scheme of our other pup just fine!”

“Huh?” Artificer stammered, confused. “What other pups?”

“...the dream really took a lot out of ya, huh?” Grovetender muttered. “...you know, the pups we adopted a bit after our reunion? The pups who helped us out with tending to you when you went into labor? The pups who were sleeping right beside me now?” Artificer finally sat up, and her blood ran cold, her mind recognizing something she could have never recognized.

A pink pup curled up to Grovetender’s back and silently snoozing away, while a larger beige pup---bordering on adolescence, but clearly the pink pup’s birth sibling--- was already awake and silently grooming herself. Artificer began to hyperventilate and shake, knocking the green pup off their latch with an annoyed mewl. She sat up firmly, looking around the room in hysterics and clutching her head. “No. No no no no. What is happening? What is this place?” Grovetenter sat up as well, looking extremely concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“The… the pup! Five Pebbles!” She pointed at the pink pup, who stirred and groggily looked up at Artificer, a birthmark of four yellow lines on their forehead. “I… alright, I am going to be frank here,” she gestures at the beige pup, who looked a bit confused as she turned around, bearing a birthmark that looked like a circle with two lines crossed through it, “I have NO idea what she could be. Not sure where from the depths of my memories I dredged her up, but I knew the pink pup. He is the fortress tender of the facility where the city is on. A fortress tender which we could not have possibly seen or known about.”

“What are you implying here, Cherry?” Grovetender reached to her shoulders, worry etched on his face. “None of this is real, is it?” Artificer’s voice trembled. “Oh god… it all makes sense now! The letter said to meet after our pups are born, so why would the pyre moment still have me pregnant?” The red slugcat rambled on, the blemishes and imperfections of this reality finally coalescing into a gaping wound. “I… I remember now. Scenario four happened. You were executed and the letter was delivered to me cycles before I had our pups. I gave birth in my tent with help from my sister Flametreader. Oh… oh no.” She had came to realize the truth.

“Our pups.” Artificer muttered, tears flowing down her eyes. “They are dead. Killed by scavengers. I have lost them for forty cycles and went on a rampage killing that filthy kind…” Even with tears blurring her vision, she would see the inconsistencies growing larger and larger. The shelter slowly crumbled to impossible geometry, small bits of metal on the gate chipping away to reveal nothing but darkness, what little warmth being actively sucked out from a space once called home. She was waking up. “I… I adopted a new pup. A new pup that I thought was an actor in that dream. Was that this all was?” Artificer looked at the dream-fabricated version of her dead mate, the eyes of the two pupified iterators looking more glassy and unmoving than ever. “Was this another justification in my mind, puppeteering your body to convince me that I should adopt them?”

“Cherry.” Grovetender sternly warned, “It… is concerning. I did not expect to be just a character inside of your dream. I have so many questions to ask, about my true self, about you, about our pups, but…” he looked down at his own fur, seeing it flaking away to see nothing but a black void. “It looks like I am running out of time. So I will make this quick.” Grovetender took a deep breath, Artificer shedding silent tears as she cradled the mental imagination of her two pups, trying to hold them as close to her as possible to prevent them from flaking away for just a second longer. The green one was awake, and was wriggling around in confusion. The blue one… was still asleep. “You know me, Arti, you know me more than anyone. If there is a place where I could be imagined the best, it would be within your head. I know this is just your subconscious speaking, but…” The two of them are sitting on nothing now, the shelter floor peeling away into an empty black void. “I am the most accurate recreation of him out there. If you were to actually meet with him somehow, I have good reason to believe he would say the same. Remember my words. You deserve happiness. You deserve a way out. Go find your salvation.”

“I am going to miss all of you.” Artificer sobbed, clenching her eyes tightly shut as Grovetender wrapped his arms around her to shield her and the pups from the breakdown of the dream. The mossy green slugcat softly spoke as he closed his eyes as well, the roar of the void growing louder and louder. “Tell your new pup we said hello.”

Nightcat awoke with tears in her eyes, having clearly been sobbing. However, the grief quickly faded as she sat up from her bed, looking quite annoyed. Another modern world again? Nightcat knew that she was not Nightcat, and that this was yet another layer in her dream that she needs to escape. The dark slugcat got off of her bed and stood up, turning on the lights in her bedroom to look at the closet mirror. She was familiar with the feeling of being an angsty 14-year-old teen, but she knew for a fact that this was all fake, all fabrications. None of these feelings are real.

As she tried to ram into the walls or smack books on her forehead, she groaned in frustration as though she could practically sense the unreality of this dream, it was… surprisingly rubbery. Hard to break. If only this could have been the case when she was still with her mate and two newborn pups, she would love to stay in that perfect dream together, even coming to accept the additional burden of two extra strange children. Now… what, she was a high schooler into goth fashion, who had a mom who was the boss of a crime syndicate and a budding relationship with a classmate called Survivor? She felt detached from all of this already, but the world is not letting go of her this easily.

Just as she grabbed her Introduction To Physics textbook and tried to bash it on their head, Nightcat heard the door open to a very unamused indigo slugcat. Their eyes are scribbles of madness that had since faded into domestic boredom, and they bore a simple white sleeping robe, one of their rare few attires not to contain any hidden knife or gun or neurotoxin dart components. “the hell u bangin’ round here this late anyways? dont u have school tomorrow?”

“Look, mom! There has been a big mistake!” Nightcat found herself saying that instinctively, even though she knew this was a fabrication of a dream. To this ego, this hermaphroditic slugcat was her birth mother and the one and only who had raised her up to this point. “You are not real. I am dreaming, and I am trying to wake myself up.”

Enot, however, does not look impressed. “u aint gettin’ out of prepping for your physics quiz if you think thats gonna convince me.” The slugcat waltzed into her room, looking around. “u gotta study more. get good grades n get good degree. this anime sh*t has rotted ur brain.” They muttered, poking at one of the posters on the wall in disinterest. “didya get this idea from one of them ee say kais or somethin’?”

“Alright, first of all,” Nightcat felt the sudden conviction to argue, “Isekais is about characters going into another world, not necessarily via dreaming! Plus, this is about me dreaming and trying to ge-” Nightcat suddenly became quiet. “Oh sh*t. Is this a f*cking isekai? Is this whole dream stack thing an isekai?” Enot busted out laughing, hands holding over their stomach. “oh, y’only thought about it now? but sry, darling, this aint one of them ee say kais. real life is real life, and if you kill ppl they die.”

“No, you---UGH!” Nightcat huffed indignantly. “You don’t get it! You are a fabrication of my mind, and I am trying to get out into the real world! None of this is real!” Enot sighed in amusem*nt. “aint that the truth. y’know sometimes, i wanna believe that as well.” They picked up some of the trash littered in Nightcat’s room. “if i had this dream reality power sh*t, i would revive your old man in a heartbeat. he’d be able to take care of you n do some bonding stuff while making sure y’aint pluggin’ forks into them outlets.” Enot sighed. “go to bed, night. theres some melatonin on my nightstand if u wanna eat some for sleep.”

“W-what if I can try to convince u that this is a dream?” Nightcat stammered out, sounding less and less convinced of herself. “i gotta go plan a heist tomorrow, i want good rest.” Enot sighed, muttering to herself. “make this quick. Who do u think u r in this ‘real world’?”

“Artificer… I think.” She muttered. “I was a thirty-something adult slugcat with red fur and explosion powers, I have kids---well, I HAD kids, but I adopted new ones---and I can craft… stuff.” She mumbled out, the absolute truth somehow seeming like the most flimsy of fabrications. How could she not even name one of the crafts she supposedly can do? “right.” Enot chuckles. “well, i never heard nothin’ of this ‘Artificer’ before.” Nightcat rolled her eyes. “of course you won’t, MOM, she might not even exist in this dream world. She exists in the real world, and she might be me.”

“alright, im bored now.” Enot approached the bedroom door. “one last chance to convince me, or im gonna just go back to bed and leave u to ur stunt.” Nightcat’s eyes darted frantically, trying to find a solution to their entrapment. Wait… right, the void! Considering how inconsistent the last dream turned out to be, there must be areas her mind has not thought of! Maybe she can fall in and wake up in the real world! Wordlessly, Nightcat began dragging Enot’s hand along as the two headed downstairs. “I need to go somewhere I don’t normally think about. We are going outside.”

“...y’sure”? Enot asked, the soft slippers cushioning their plantigrade feet, worn and donning many callouses and sores gained from many, many criminal operations. The slipper was very aerated and so there is no sweat on their delectable toes, the nails fairly trimmed considering Enot's usual practicality when it comes to hygiene. Their feet is partially radioactive and OSHA-approved. The indigo slugcat’s ionized and extruded feet feeted feetedly down the stairs to feet the feet feet feet feet feeeeeeeet. “i still have the access code to the bunker. u barely went down there, so i dont think u would think of that more than outside!” Enot called out…a convincing point, but Nightcat steeled her nerves. “Wow, yeah, mom, great idea!” Nightcat said, before letting go and bolting straight for the front door. She felt like she was stepping on brimstone, the tendrils of her own subconscious racing to get ahead of her and her escape as she ran. If she goes down into the basem*nt, the suggestion of it would cause her mind to imagine a futuristic bunker full of criminal gadgets. As such, she was going to catch her own mind off guard.

“I think THIS will convince you.” Nightcat confidently looked back at Enot. Though the windows show a quiet gated neighborhood at night, she knew that they might as well be flat textures plastered over the windows. The door would lead to anomalies that would lead to the void. As she confidently opened the door, though, she did not expect this. A orange robed saiyan with spiked black hair floated on their front porch. He gave Nightcat a friendly wave. “Hola a ustedes dos, ¿dónde está la biblioteca?”

“SEE?!” Nightcat turned around, looking at Enot crossly. “THIS is what I am f*cking talking about! That person has no right to be here!” Her mother, however, does not look alarmed by this. “o, its just goku.” “GOKU?!?!?!?!?” The dark slugcat yelled out in exasperation, “HOW DO YOU KNOW HIM?!?!? HE IS NOT EVEN A SLUGCAT OR SCAVENGER! WHAT THE HELL IS HE!” Enot huffed, rolling their eyes. “i have work friends, alrite? hes an old partner, even older than when i got with wanderer.” The robed slugcat quickly walked forward, speaking in fluency in their shared language that she has never seen her mother speak before.

“¡Bienvenido de vuelta, Goku! ¡Hace un montón que no te veo! Pasa, pasa. ¿Y cómo está ese nene?” Enot happily chirped as Nightcat watched on in horror. The orange saiyan strided in, looking around the cozy interior of the mansion. “Estoy muy bien, Sombra de la Noche. Gohan está entrenando bien. ¿Veo que tienes una doble vida preparada?” The indigle slugcat chortled at that, lightly shaking their head. “Sí, sí. La Noche va creciendo bien, aunque un poco rebelde. Ya tú sabes cómo son los adolescentes. Dios, tenemos tanto de qué ponernos al día. Te voy a buscar un tecito y charlamos, ¿qué te parece?” With that, the two laughed and went into the now lit-up dining table, Enot grabbing something out of the fancy cabinet.

“I swear.” Nightcat muttered to herself. “I am GOING TO HAVE AN ANEURYS-”

Spearmaster awoke from their nightmare, trying to scream before remembering that they were born with their mouth fused shut by the bone. However, it seemed… distant, as if fading away. A pink presence lies next to them, one Hunter of No Significant Harassment, an escaped messenger living his best life with them together in the wilds. He was fast asleep, but the large, bulbous cysts on his back twitched in reaction to the noise, slightly shaking and shifting around until the purposed slugcat opened his eyes. “mmh… what were you up so early for?” He was already sleeping by his side, the cysts being too painful to sleep on, and the slugcat was not exactly a stomach sleeper. Not that it really mattered anyway, Hunter always liked to sleep on the side so he could look at his partner’s peaceful face when he woke up.

( Its… nothing .) Spearmaster absentmindedly signed with their hand. ( I was trapped in a weird dream, and I had to escape it. I think… I was convinced I was Artificer, and then there was something with a floating monkey guy called Goku. Weird dream, as I said. ) Hunter pursed his lips. “Trapped in a cycle of dreams, huh? Now that would be an interesting story.” The pink slugcat sat up as well, looking slyly at the purple messenger and the blanket covering them both. “How do you know you are not still in the dream right now? You certainly are not Artificer right now, and I could be, like, a dream manifestation or something.”

Spearmaster huffed. (We know Artificer. That’s what the last layer lacked, so I think that is what separates this one from the rest.) The purposed slugcat groggily rubbed their eyes, going down under the blanket with one hand to see if any spears had accidentally been extruded from their tail during the night. (Plus… I have a good hunch that this layer was real. I sensed something odd with the previous two, but I do not sense anything weird with this reality. I think this is true baseline reality.) Sensing an opportunity, Spearmaster grabbed Hunter’s waist and brought him close, nose almost touching his face as Spearmaster stared into the pink slugcat’s still uninfected eyes. (I am glad that the real world I am waking to has someone as amazing as you by my side.)

Hunter rolled his eyes, but the flush on his cheeks showed that the flirt was taking effect. “Heh… really, Speary? Was the dream really that bad?” He said, slightly flustered, but his face softened into concern upon looking at his partner’s serious face. “Alright, alright, big guy, let me give you a hug to cheer you up.” Two slugcat arms slung over Spearmaster’s shoulder as Hunter lifted his head over as well, but Spearmaster could feel something else. Slimy tendrils that were a consistency between rot tendrils and leathery skin extended outwards, gripping at Spearmaster’s back, waist, thigh, and tail, pulling them into a deep embrace. Spearmaster let out a slight exhale as they blushed, feeling the tendrils go over their spear holes in… suggestive manners.

( We are not doing this in the morning .) Spearmaster signed, now slightly flustered themselves. Hunter laughed, patting them on the back, “I know, hun, I know. Just wanna keep you excited for later, you know?” The purple slugcat pushed Hunter off in mock indignation, wrinkling their nose as they got up from their shared nest and began to walk away. ( Go make yourself some breakfast. I am going to get myself some lizards to feed on. ) They can still hear Hunter’s distant laughter as they walk out of the den. The Spearmaster shook their head to themselves, face still slightly hot. For someone who wanted control of their own fate more than anything else as a messenger, why again did they fall in love with one that could pull them along like a puppet on a string?

It was yet another day in paradise. Really, when the two newly decommissioned messengers first found the orbtree, Spearmaster had reservations about its remoteness and distance from the nearest slugcat tribe. If Hunter ever needed a medic and Spearmaster’s medical knowledge that they find hard to convert into makeshift forms was of no help, it would be a good half an hour before a healer could be nabbed and sent here to assist. However, they started to like this seclusion. They were, as some would say, not exactly the most normal duo of slugcats, so staying away allowed them to become friendly neighbors instead of having to face possible troubles integrating with the natural borns.

As Spearmaster trekked into the lush underbrush beyond the orbtree clearing, blackened spear trail markers placed by their past self to guide both them and Hunter back home, they thought about visiting the nearby colony to get their mind off of the memories. They did not say it to Hunter, but the dreams of being Artificer… unnerved them. It felt so real, the conviction that her pups and mate had died, the grief and loss and love that was not from them and yet felt like a part of them. Perhaps a small chat over in the colony with Artificer and seeing her being perfectly happy with Gourmand and their shared four pups would ease their minds a bit. They could be siphoning up some tea with their tail as they sat in their den and watched the four step-siblings play around with each other, knowing peace in the resolution of these dreams.

Still… they should probably consider a more opportune time like the afternoon. Spearmaster’s ears twitched as a caramel lizard was seen behind several layers of foliage. It is quite resistant to damage, so Spearmaster could suck much more blood out of it than its weaker cousins. The purple slugcat focused upon their tail, tensing the right muscle to release two stored spears, tugging it out and now wielding the pair of still slightly moist and porous proboscises as their weapon. The lizard, overhearing the commotion, began a slow stalk over to the percieved prey, eyes locking on and slowly hissing.

It must be a young one, for it barely knew how to hunt properly. Leaping in such an underbrush was not tactically sound, and the lizard soon tasted the consequences of its actions not in the form of delectable slugcat flesh, but a mouthful of plants as their lunge trajectory passed through some unexpectedly dense and woody foliage. Spearmaster sauntered to the caramel’s abdomen as it roared and thrashed in a futile attempt to free itself from the shrub, and stabbed the spears into the vital arteries of the lizard to obtain more nutrients quickly. Heavy blood flow, seen entirely visible as the fleshy tube stretched and buldged to accommodate for the high throughput of blood, pumping into the respective tail holes on overdrive before the strand withered and disconnected from the spear. Spearmaster sighed in mild satisfaction as a sense of warmth spread through their body, an encoded instinct that tells them that they are being fed. One more stab was enough to fill them up comfortably and finish off the drained lizard, and they started the process of dragging the prize back into their sanctuary. Hunter could use a treat.

As they approached the sanctuary, the purple slugcat looked at Hunter facing away from him, working on the firepit as a hunk of lizard hung over the spitting flames, slow-roasting it with seasoning the way Hunter always liked his food. Spearmaster sighed, before stealthily grabbing a knife out from their belt and began to cut away a chunk off the caramel lizard’s underbelly. The pink slugcat was used to eating raw, unseasoned meat much like any other carnivorous predator in need of nutrition would, but with the (not quite) recent addition of the back’s new occupants, he has found a lot more purpose in making cuisine suited for mouthed individuals so the times of sustenance would mean more to them. Spearmaster, of course, could never eat Hunter’s cooking or compare his skills to someone like Gourmand, but their nose still functions and instinctively flares when they were presented with the final product every single time.

With a calculated toss, the hunk of caramel lizard landed square on Hunter’s lower back, where the smaller active cysts resided. Though the larger ones looked appealing for them to throw the meat at to nourish, the leathery skin that had formed around the largest bulbs made that untenable. From what they know, the larger bulbs got their nutrients via a system of repurposed vein networks sourced from Hunter’s own bloodstream and, well, the smaller bulbs. As expected, the meat stuck to the cystic site, the pink slugcat not even turning around as several tendrils held the chunk firmly in place. Within seconds, the gurgling of the cysts stopped as the meat was fully dissolved and digested.

Hunter turned around, a soft smile on his face. “What was that… caramel lizard? I could tell it was more fatty than usual.” Spearmaster nodded. ( You got that right. I will butcher and cure the rest of the meat soon. ) The purple slugcat retreated into the forest, dragging out the corpse of the caramel lizard, the chunk cut out very much visible. Hunter looked amused, but kept his eyes on the roast as Spearmaster deposited it next to the butchering station. “We planning on going to the colony today or tomorrow to trade?” Spearmaster, of course, only replied after depositing the lizard carcass and approaching Hunter’s side, where their hands could be seen. ( I am thinking today. I wanted to go visit Gourmand and Artificer for some… things. )

“Alright, alright.” Hunter laughed. “What, the dreams affecting you more than you think?” Spearmaster looked away, not wanting to appear weak but eventually sighed and looked down. ( ...yeah. I was so convinced that I am Artificer, and that my mate and pups were dead. I know that the Artificer we knew still had her pups alive and well, so… maybe if I talk to her, I could clear it from my head and know for sure it is just a bad dream. ) The pink slugcat simply smiled, shaking his head. “Alright, I got you. After l carve up the rations for lunch and dinner, we pack for the colony, how does that sound? I will man the stall and do the barter, and you go talk to our friend there to get your mind settled.”

Spearmaster noticeably looked relieved, the dream having shaken them more than they expected. (...thank you. It just got stuck in my head when I was hunting alone.) Hunter giggled, slinging an arm around Spearmaster and standing on tiptoes to give them a kiss on the snout. “Wow, it gotta be something bad for it to mess up the vibes of Mr.badass messenger supersoldier guy. Tell you what, miss princess?” Hunter’s hand crept downwards towards Spearmaster’s waist, “I’m gonna treat you good tonight. Get all those bad thoughts unclogged from your brain with some pipe cleaners.” Spearmaster’s face flushed, but does not deny or refute Hunter’s proposition, tail slightly wagging with pre-extruded spears slowly poking out a few of the spear holes.

Spearmaster smelled at the delightful scents of the roasted lizard leg, fat dripping down into the fire causing small eruptions that licked at the surface of the delectable meal. They still possessed vestigial saliva glands and esophagus, and they felt themselves swallowing saliva directly into their repurposed stomach area made for processing blood into nutrients. Hunter grabbed the wood-capped roasting spit off of the roaring flames, turning to the right to set it down on a clean scrap metal tray for resting and carving. However, as Spearmaster got a good faceful of the large, bulbous cysts that colonized their mate’s back, they realized that the largest ones looked more… radiant than usual. Normally, they would be a bit shrunken, gray, discolored, as most of the cancerous tissues on Hunter’s body would appear, but they appeared almost… healthy, if Spearmaster did not know that these rotted tumors were absolutely not something that a slugcat of normal birth would possess.

Hesitantly, Spearmaster put their hand on the largest among these “healthy” cysts. When they first began to show, they remembered being warned that their back could not be touched at all lest they want some serious chemical burns from the digestive acid contained within the rot pustules. Though that edict still held true for the lesser cysts still hungering for flesh below, the spherical cysts near the shoulders are now enshrouded in a membrane akin to slugcat skin, essentially harmless to touch unless they go near the X shaped stretch mark where some of the interior would still be exposed. As their finger trailed along it, it felt… watery. It had more give than it did before, not feeling the gentle firmness that a giant cluster of cysts would have given as resistance.

The cyst slightly twitched still in reaction, causing a cascade of reactions down the back. Hunter turned around with a smile, tendrils idle holding up the floor. “Checking them out again?” Spearmaster nodded. (I noticed that your biggest clusters felt different recently. They looked more healthy, they stopped stinking of rot, they felt… empty. Was it something you ate that made these cysts so benign recently? I think given time they would be rid of rot in its entirety.) They signed with one hand, others pressing down firmly on the cyst to feel an empty-ish cavity within, as if it contained some large reservoir of fluid or perhaps fat. Hunter laughed. “I am glad that they are behaving nicely for now. They must have reached the end of development and gotten ready to hatch!”

( WHAT. ) Spearmaster signed, deadpan. They must have heard that wrong.

“You know, hatch!” Hunter cheerily said, as if that was not among the top five worst descriptions that he could have said while mentioning the rot, just below “gathering up and ripping itself out of my body.” “Do you not know?” The pink slugcat tilted his head. “The rot cysts clearing up means that soon the pups will break out! They ate up all the nutrient deposits stored in the large cysts!” Spearmaster gave a thousand-yard stare, mind racing approximately a hundred miles a minute trying to comprehend the set of chitters that had just exited Hunter’s mouth and entered Spearmaster’s eardrums in the form of air molecule vibrations. ( NO! ) Spearmaster signed in absolute confusion and exasperation. ( I DO NOT KNOW, IN FACT, THAT THE CYSTS “HATCH!” IS THE PUP OURS? )

“They would be identical to me.” Hunter beamed. “Also, correction: pups-” Spearmaster put a hand up, now truly questioning if this was in fact a dream. ( No! You are clearly on mushrooms or something! Mitosis… that’s not your gimmick! Mitosis is Artificer’s gimmick, cloning is my gimmick, and your gimmick is the rot! You are supposed to have cysts and that’s it! ) Hunter raised an eyebrow. “...so? That’s always a gimmick of the rot.” ( NO ITS NOT. ) Spearmaster felt like they were on the verge of a mental break. ( I SAT BY YOUR SIDE AS SUNS SCANNED YOUR BACK. THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS. ARE YOU IMPLYING THAT FIVE PEBBLES’S CYSTS WILL ALSO “HATCH?”)

“Probably!” Hunter said in unusual cheeriness. “Little iterator puppets will come out eventually. Speaking of which!” Hunter knelt to the ground, looking up at Spearmaster as the largest of the back cysts began to slowly convulse and stretch, as if something is pushing from the inside. “What an opportune time! It looks like they are hatching right now!” Spearmaster watched in abject horror as the normally slow-shifting cysts now appeared as if they were being manipulated from within, sickening nausea rising up into their nonexistent mouth as they try to process and cope with this reality-turned nightmare. ( Now?! Do you need a healer? Do you need tools? )

“Nope!” Hunter grinned, “All part of biology, baby! This is all normal!” The pink slugcat winces slightly. “Oof, I feel the first one thrashing inside pretty hard. It seems like the others are waking up now as we-” The sickening sound of something sharp tearing through flesh was heard, and Spearmaster wished they have the response to gag as the largest of the cysts began to deflate, rotted pus leaking out of the X in the center as the first signs of a claw punctured the thinnest part of the cyst’s surface membrane. Spearmaster could only stumble around, signing to themselves. ( This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. )

Two small paws reached from the largest cyst, slowly ripping a larger and larger gash within the former tumor to reveal a pink pup within. “Waaaaa!” The pup called out into the world, the wet pink fur still covered in what appears to be a blue sludge, amniotic fluid tainted with rot. Small clumps of rot laid on the pup’s back, the cysts and tendrils already scouting on the torn surface of their former birthplace to sense the world. “See? This is fine.” Spearmaster was almost hysterical, wondering about their own sanity as they attempted to sign. (Alright. Alright. We need to get them out, then. Get them cleaned off, treated, something.) Hunter, however, shook his head with a knowing smile. “Oh, they will have to stay in there for a bit to wake the others.”

With a second battle cry, Spearmaster could see three other cysts beginning to convulse and shift. With three more stomach-churning sounds of claw puncturing flesh, three other rotted slugpups began making their way out of the broken cysts on Hunter’s back. “Waaa! Wawawaaaa! Waaawa!” The four pups cried out in a chorus. Spearmaster attempted to approach Hunter and get the pups out, but he put a hand out. “There is more. Check out their cysts.” Spearmaster did not want to know what it meant, but the truth dawned as they looked at the backs of the pups, to see large, bulbous cysts that were… shifting. “Telescopic generations, bitch!” Hunter hollered in a chorus of laughters, blood and rotted cystic pulp spilling out onto the dirt as the subcysts on the pups began to shift with more and more vigor. “It is long legs all the way down! I f*cking LOVE speculative biology!”

( What. What. What. What. What. What. What. What. What. Wh )

“...and then hunter becomes a rot pup fractal and terrifies ‘spearmaster’ and sends them to the next layer of the dream!” Enot cheerily exclaimed, finally finishing presenting this section of their drafted document. “how does it sound, sweetie?”

“Look, Enot.” Saint pinched his forehead. “I like the body horror and the cyst mitosis thing and all, but come on. The Hunter and Spearmaster bit has references basically no one is gonna get.” “wat do u mean?” Enot tilted her head. “There is so much that is gonna confuse the reader here, especially the bits with the gimmicks. Spearmaster is alright since we are gonna put the tail cloning birth bit in the Enot fi-” Saint stumbled, realizing that he should not have said that, “-uhh I mean in a unnamed fic in the future, spoilers, but we know how Artificer works already! We know everything about how she had her pups, and the whole mitosis thing would just make readers more confused!”

“well, shes quite susceptibletomitosis, wasn’t she~?” Enot giggled. “No!” Saint exclaimed in exasperation. “This literally applies only to Pansear’s Artificer, and thats where the meme is from! Do you really want the AO3 readers to look at that bit about Artificer’s gimmick when the canon Artificer of A Way Out has nothing to do with mitosis in the slightest?” The indigo slugcat gave Saint a sour face. “its a reference, alrite? its meant to be funny for those in the joke!” Saint remained steadfast in his conviction. “Tell me, Enot, who will get those jokes?”

“theres, like, 500 ppl on there! someone gotta have to get it!” Enot exclaimed, but Saint rebuked the argument, “And how many of them read fics? Literally none of them! They see arts of gay slugcats kissing and were like “woaw” and never read texts! Like, look, is anyone on SC even reading this sentence right now? Even the ones we lured with the Artisaint bit would have probably left by the collab universe Enot callback bit because no one f*cking read that! Also, Cake Shop members reading this,” Saint looks at the screen, “you don’t count. I am only counting Shipping Container guys who are more active there than on Cake Shop, and I am sure I can count those members on one hand! No one is going to get this joke and everyone would be confused! Why is this even in the A Way Out series when this is just a glorified oneshot?” Saint exclaimed.

“well, it could be a self-indulgent thing, u know? smth for friends who is in on the joke to enjoy. this is an april fools crack gag anyways, u can’t win ‘em all because we dont know our readers.” Saint sighed, shaking his head and correcting his mustache. “Maybe you are right. This is just a creative writing exercise meant to entertain a few close friends, afterall. Hell, maybe this whole meta section here could clear up the air for the AO3 only readers.” Enot’s mouth curled into a soft smile, looking at the draft before her. “well, i guess i could play up the grotesque factor on the hunter mitosis a bit more, make it rely less on the punchline that arti was the mitosis guy and spear is the clone guy. turn it into more run-of-the-mill body horror instead of just referencing an injoke for broad reader appeal. does that sound alrite, sainty?”

“That is not the only part I had problems with.” Saint sighed. “It is also the design here with HLL and Spearmaster. Like I get the Pebbles and Sliver of Straw pup sh*t, that is referencing another high kudos fic, but this is just a straight ripoff of the idea Miracle and Emily had for the end of Shredded Letter. In fact, I don’t even have to try and come up with an argument, look at this here!” Saint pointed to the wall next to the monitor, where Enot had taped a familiar art piece of Spearmaster and Hunter napping on the wall, overwritten with shaky handwriting on the bottom that reads “use this as reference for character description for layer 5.” Enot smirked. “well, we posted it first, so we are the original, rite?” Saint shook his head. “At least give the author and artist a shoutout or something! We don’t want to look like a dick to those two, if you can’t make them original, at least give the two and their fic their dues. Like, I don’t know, tell the readers to go search up Shredded Letter by author NotMiracleSummit(MiracleSummit) on AO3 and kudos the fic and leave comments in the magnitude of “hot”, “lukewarm”, “cold”, and such? Hell don’t even read it just leave the comment, leave it on every chapter, it will be funny”

“yea, so we should make them original, like us. our premise is so unique, you know?” Enot smiled, the tip of her ears a neon red, the white eyelashes sparking and decorating her karma [three] shaped pupil. “im so glad that we are not based off of any other author’s interpretations, that would suck so bad.” Saint laughed as well. “Of course not, honey! We are completely original and not a direct ripoff to another artist’s property! Look at how original we look!” Saint pointed at his green mustache pointing [upwards] and his [blue] echo scarf, the [white] scales on the end flaking off into fractal infinity as they faded into the void surrounding them. Two cakes in a cup crashed down onto the floor, the jarring sound of shattering ceramic making Enot jump out of her skin.

“hah… im glad, u know?” Enot got up from her chair, walking towards Saint and cupping his face. “if were yet more characters in a story, then our author must love us very, very much..” Saint softly smiled, kissing Enot on the top of the forehead. “In a way, we are written. The cycle made us, two sides of a [die], with me being the god of [hexanitrohexaazaisowurtzitane] and you being the god of [smegm*], forever creating and recreating the world to feed [gravel] into the gaping maws of [Neil deGrass Tyson]. That is a wonderful tale to spin if I had ever heard one.” The gradient slugcat sighed in content. “Then it is the cycle’s gift that we were able to build such a family even in this state. Isn’t that right, [mammal]?”

The green centipede fully crawled out of her den, scales glistening dark green and legs of chintinous carapace standing firmly. Slowly, the mandibles of [Mammal] began to move and click. After a few seconds of the room in perfect silence as she spoke, Enot and Saint burst out in laughter. “hahaha!” The god of [smegm*] laughed with tears of joy in her eyes, “I doubt if you are a part of the story at all. After all, no author could write a joke better than you!”

Saint laughed.

Enot laughed.

[Mammal] laughed.

Saint laughed.

Enot laughed.

[Mammal] laughed.

Saint laughed.

Enot laughed.

[Mammal] laughed.

Saint laughed.

Enot laughed.

[Mammal] laughed.

Saint laughed.

Enot laughed.

[Mammal] laughed.

Saint laughed.

Enot laughed.

[Mammal] laughed.

Saint la

“Dearest Augustine… I do hope this latest damp has not aggravated your gray lung. dip dip dp dip dip ” A muffled voice came through the pillow.

Lois Griffin had awoken from a horrific fever dream, one of slugcats and lives and body horror and meta commentary on things she could have never known, and her eyes shot awake to find the other side of her bed was empty. Her husband was sat hunched by the table, a comedically large quil illuminated by the bright desk lamp as he wrote down on parchment---something he had done for just this occasion.

“Matter stateside have taken a tragic turn as this year’s gourd crop has fallen prey to a rather unexpected infestation of salt-marsh cutworms. dip dip dip dip dip ” Lois Griffin yelled at the stocky man still fully clothed at this late hour. “Peter!” She exclaimed, sitting up from bed, “it’s four in the morning! Come to bed!”

“...Marital concerns continue to bedevil me.”