Hello everyone, and welcome to my fifth OK K.O. oneshot! Unlike the last one, you'll have to have read the other stories in the series to understand what's going on (or at least Permanence). Also, we have P.K.O. today! Yay! This isn't nearly as long as the past two stories have been, though. Maybe yay?
I'd like to say for future reference because people keep offering me ideas (which is fantastic, thank you), I'm not taking fanfic requests for the most part because I already have some established ideas of the way things work in this oneshot universe. However, this doesn't mean I'm not open to suggestions. I just won't necessarily do them if they don't fit into "canon."
Here's the gratuitous "T.K.O.'s House" spoiler warning. Do you guys even need me to include this anymore? XD There is a minor spoiler for Pacific Rim: Uprising, though not a plot-relevant one.
The day at Gar's Bodega started like any other. The sky was a beautiful sunset orange, dinosaurs chirped merrily, and dozens of people milled about in and out of the store. Enid was reading behind the counter, Rad was in the back sorting inventory, and K.O. was washing the windows. Things were as they should be.
Or they should have been, but K.O. wasn't feeling like his usual self. He'd caught himself spacing out several times throughout the day, and at the worst possible times; he wasn't even allowed to go to work tomorrow because Miss Quantum had given him detention for leaving an entire test blank. He felt like he was tired, only without the "tired" part. He wondered if he was getting sick.
K.O. scowled as he rubbed at a particularly stubborn smudge on his current window. It cleared away eventually- no one in the plaza could top his super cleaning skills- but it still left him wishing there was a way to clean them faster.
He had to be sick, if he was thinking like that.
After every window had been polished until they shone, K.O. looked for someone whose day he could hopefully make better. A few customers were inside the bodega, but they were all regulars who already knew what they were looking for. That meant that Enid wouldn't need any help, either. So, K.O. supposed, that only left Rad.
When K.O. found him, the alien was sorting boxes into groups based on the types of items within. Currently, he was struggling with a rather hefty box, only able to lift it a few inches off of the ground with his finger beam. "Do you need any help?" K.O. asked.
Rad dropped the box with a wheeze, resting his hands on his knees for a moment as he caught his breath. "I don't... I don't need any help," he panted, "but this box right here is a huge hassle. You could probably get it out of my way for me."
"Sure thing!" K.O. chirped. He turned to the box, rubbing his hands together before wriggling his fingers. He sucked in a breath, slammed his palms on either side, and heaved. The box didn't budge. K.O. eased back, then tried again. He still couldn't even lift a corner. "Wow, this box is really heavy."
"You've got this, bud," Rad said lazily, resting his weight on a chest-height crate.
K.O. tried in vain to pick up the box, but the thing was taller than Rad, and felt like it was packed full of boulders. Pulling and pushing didn't work, and none of T.K.O.'s powers would be of any help. In the end, he slid down on his butt, exhausted.
There's still one thing you haven't tried, a small part of him whispered.
"If it's that hard to move one dinky little box," said Rad, snapping K.O. out of his thoughts, "then you should just ask for my help. I bet you could push it if I pushed with you." K.O. nodded, and together they pushed the box in the intended direction. It was slow going, and by the time they got it to its destination their arms felt like jelly, but it was now in its rightful place among its cardboard brethren.
"Thanks, Rad," K.O. squeaked, chest heaving.
"No problem, dude," Rad replied with a shaky thumbs-up. "I could've totally handled it by myself. But, you know. Why do that when you can get someone else to do it for you?" K.O. shook his head and laughed at the alien's antics.
"K.O.!" Mr. Gar bellowed from the doorway, startling both boys into falling over. "Someone made a huge mess of the nacho machine, and half the store with it! Go clean it up!"
K.O. jumped to his feet, chopping his forehead in a hasty salute. "Yes sir, right away, Mr. Gar, sir!" With that, he rushed past Mr. Gar, nearly bowling his boss over in the process.
The second K.O. was in the main body of the store, he skidded to a halt, blanching at the mess before him. Mr. Gar wasn't kidding; onions, chili, sour cream, and all sorts of other condiments were splattered all over the floor and several displays. The machine itself appeared to have exploded, as the air was thick with smoke, and no less than four different cheeses dripped heavily from the ceiling onto the shelves below. Everything was littered with tortilla chips, some whole, most ground into powder.
How did this happen?! I was gone for two minutes! K.O. thought in a panic. I can't clean a mess like this by myself, can I?! K.O. furiously shook those thoughts from his head, slapping both cheeks. No! I've cleaned up way worse than this! I can do it! Face scrunched in determination, he summoned his mop and bucket and got to work.
That determination didn't last long, however. The floor wasn't overly difficult to clean, but the cheese on the ceiling kept pouring down, making his efforts meaningless. Said cheese had already hardened in several places so that he'd have to chip away at it later. The true terror, though, came with meticulously wiping the gooey mess off of the dozens of individual items, not all of them protected by packaging.
An hour into cleaning, and K.O. had barely made a dent.
With a frustrated roar, K.O. threw himself onto his back, paying no mind to the diced tomato that got into his hair in the process. This is impossible! he nearly wailed aloud. I really can't do this by myself!
...But maybe I don't have to, he thought calmly. Maybe if I just fuse with T.K.O., then P.K.O. could clean it for me. He wouldn't mind, and he could handle it no problem. K.O. closed his eyes, nodding in satisfaction. Yeah, that'll work...
"K.O.!" Enid shouted, startling K.O. awake. He sat up quickly, noticing that she and Rad were both running over.
"Dude, we thought you slipped and hit your head for a second there!" said Rad, trying and failing to look nonchalant.
"Are you okay, K.O.?" Enid asked, worriedly dusting crumbs off of K.O.'s shoulders.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "I just..." Just about dozed off, certainly. He'd gotten frustrated by the nacho explosion, badly enough that he'd hoped that someone else would take care of it for him. And that someone was P.K.O., who he knew couldn't be trusted right now.
He was starting to think he wasn't sick after all.
"...Just what, K.O.?" Enid asked slowly, pulling him out of his thoughts.
K.O. stood suddenly, nearly knocking Enid over. "I have to talk to T.K.O."
Rad glanced at the cheese-encrusted aisles around them before looking at K.O. with a quirked brow. "Now?"
"Right now. It's about P.K.O."
Rad and Enid gave each other a look. "Go. We'll tell Mr. Gar what's going on," Enid assured him. "Just be careful."
K.O. nodded resolutely, disappearing in the break room. Rad and Enid watched him go, both wearing worried expressions. "...Dibs on not cleaning this," said Rad.
(~)
T.K.O. visibly startled when K.O. appeared in their shared subconscious. To K.O.'s horror, his alter had been staring at the synchronization machine; K.O. hadn't made a conscious decision to summon it, so its presence only confirmed his suspicions.
T.K.O. turned his head to K.O., raising both arms in the machine's direction. "What the heck is this doing here?" he demanded.
"That's what I'm here to talk to you about," said K.O., taking a few quick but nervous steps closer. "I think P.K.O.'s trying to get us to fuse."
"What?!" T.K.O. exclaimed. "He can't do that! He doesn't even exist right now!"
"But a part of him is still in each of us," K.O. persisted urgently, lifting a hand to his chest. "My mind's been all over the place all day, and I didn't know why. But then things felt like they were just bad, and then I thought, 'I bet P.K.O. could help,' and, and... I tried to not clean the store, T.K.O.! I never not clean the store!" K.O.'s composure slipped, and his grammar with it, and he clutched T.K.O.'s shirt in his growing panic.
"Get a grip!" T.K.O. snapped, grabbing K.O.'s hands and shoving them away. "I admit, for you that's really weird. But how do you know that you're not flipping out over nothing?"
"Because it feels so much like last time!" K.O. exclaimed, arms flying to his sides. "We wanted to fuse for everything before, remember? And it turned out to be P.K.O. telling us to fuse? Well, it's just like that! Everything makes me think of how much easier everything would be as P.K.O., and he used that before to make us want to be P.K.O. all the time! Haven't you been getting thoughts like that, too?"
T.K.O. frowned in thought, putting a finger to his chin. "You know, I have been really itching to go outside today." He dug his fingers into his locks, teeth grinding. "Ugh, now that you said it, fusing sounds awesome right now!"
"Exactly! He's trying to make it sound good, but he'll probably trap us again if we fuse! We have to talk to him, before we decide to do it for real!"
"And how do you suggest we do that?" T.K.O. growled. "We'd have to fuse to talk to him, and that's not exactly an option right now."
K.O. raised a finger to respond, then lowered it, pursing his lips when he realized he didn't have an answer to give.
"Really? Nothing?" T.K.O. snarked. "Nothing you saw in a movie once that would help?"
K.O. hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! Remember when I told you about that movie I saw? A second one came out recently! In it, these people were teaching other people how to use the machines, and they had a brain in a jar to practice with! Maybe if we can make a copy of our brains, we could get those to run the machine and bring P.K.O. to us!"
"What would be the point of doing that? He'd still be in control, we just wouldn't be piloting him ourselves."
"If it doesn't work, we can un-imagine the brains," K.O. pointed out.
T.K.O. squinted at him, then wiped a hand down his face. "Fine. We don't have any better ideas. But if we end up trapped for the next two days, I blame you."
Picturing his own brain was only slightly harder than picturing anything else. K.O. focused with everything he had on making an exact replica of his own brain; if it wasn't perfect, his plan wouldn't work. When he opened his eyes, he found a brain floating in a cylindrical tank roughly the size of a microwave. "Your turn, T.K.O."
"I can't," T.K.O. said simply. "Changing your subconscious is your gimmick, not mine. It's the one thing I can't do, so it has to be you."
"But it can't be me," said K.O. "I can't imagine your brain because it's not mine. Besides, this is your subconscious, too. If I can put things in it, then so can you. All you gotta do is try!"
T.K.O. scowled at him, obviously not believing a word. Still, he closed his eyes and made the attempt. His face screwed up with concentration, his forehead beading with sweat. To K.O.'s delight, purple light began to gather, little orbs connecting to each other like puzzle pieces. As their glow faded, they revealed a brain tank nearly identical to K.O.'s, though the fluid in this one was a sickly green rather than the gray-blue of K.O.'s. T.K.O. opened his eyes and, upon seeing his creation, let out a low, excited giggle.
"See? I told you you could do it!" K.O. cheered.
T.K.O. looked down at his hands, eyes gleaming with mischievous possibilities, but he shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand. "Okay, we got the brains. Now to hook them up and see what happens."
They each picked up their respective tanks, bringing them to the machine. K.O. grabbed the plugs and, with the power of imagination, fastened them to the tanks. There was a painful twinge at the base of his skull, but it passed after a few seconds. T.K.O. winced, indicating that he'd felt it as well. However, P.K.O. didn't appear as they had hoped. K.O. sighed in defeat, but T.K.O. tapped his shoulder, pointing to their view of the outside world.
They could see it. Video grain made the edges fuzzy, but they could see the break room from K.O.'s meditative position on the couch. The view shifted, K.O.'s body looking down at his upturned hands, wristbands cyan.
K.O. gasped loudly, turning to unplug the brains, but T.K.O.'s arm blocked his way. "Hold up. Something's happening."
K.O. looked again, and something did appear to be happening. The static at the edges of the screen crept inwards, blurring the image. P.K.O. tipped to one side, and the image cut out completely.
A few tense seconds later, there he was. His tank top had been traded out for a white t-shirt, and his vest sported a short popped collar, but it was still undoubtedly P.K.O. standing in the subconscious. His form wavered once, as if he weren't fully there. He whipped his head this way and that, eyes wide. "No. No no no, what happened?! That wasn't supposed to happen!" His gaze landed on the machine, and the brain jars connected to it. His alarm became recognition, then indignant anger. "Hey!"
K.O. stepped forward. "P.K.O., we need to talk."
"Don't bother, I know what you're going to say," P.K.O. snapped, whirling to face him. "I'm being naughty and causing trouble, and I'm not allowed to do that. But what else am I supposed to do, huh? Sit there and wait for you to summon me? Cease to exist until you decide it's convenient to bring me back?"
"Well, what you're doing? Not working," T.K.O. cut in. "Trust me, taking control by force doesn't work out."
"That's rich, coming from you," P.K.O. sneered. "You think I don't know you'd do it in a heartbeat, if you thought you could?"
T.K.O. recoiled in shock, but then his face split into a toothy grin, eyes glinting dangerously. "Wanna try saying that again, punk?"
"This isn't helping!" K.O. cried, getting between the two before they could butt heads. "We need to figure this out, not fight each other!"
"There's nothing to figure out," P.K.O. grouched. "You don't want me to come out, so I don't come out. That's how it works. You won't change your mind because you've deluded yourself into thinking it's right. Must be nice to be in charge."
K.O. went silent, but T.K.O. pushed past him, still visibly angry. "Knock it off, you make him sound like a dictator or something. You think I don't know what you're trying to do? You're trying to guilt him into sacrificing his freedom for you. Come on, we're not that stupid." At the latter statement his gaze shifted to K.O., who was probably gullible enough to do just that.
"Am not!" P.K.O. argued. "If he feels bad, then it's because he knows I'm right! You of all people should understand! You're trapped here just like I am! You're only allowed out when he says you can come out! Doesn't that frustrate you? Doesn't that bother you at all?"
"Of course that bothers me!" said T.K.O., incredulous. "Being in here sucks when I can't be out there. But you're wrong. I'm not trapped here. There are rules, which I wish didn't exist, by the way," he pointedly looked at K.O. again, "but if I want to go outside, I can. You know why? Because I'm not a garbage human being like you."
"...You kind of are," P.K.O. pointed out.
"Well, at least I'm not a lying, manipulative jerk!" T.K.O. countered defensively.
"You definitely fit the 'manipulative jerk' part," said P.K.O., smug.
"Alright, that's it!" T.K.O. snarled, electricity sparking in his palms. Likewise, P.K.O.'s fists began to glow.
"Both of you, stop it!" K.O. yelled, getting between then and pushing T.K.O. back (his other hand simply phased right through P.K.O., to everyone's surprise). Once he was sure that his counterparts weren't going to physically lash out at each other, he sighed, deflating. "P.K.O., you're right."
"I'm what?" the fusion asked.
"He's what?!" T.K.O. demanded.
"N-Not about you being a jerk!" K.O. hurriedly clarified upon seeing the betrayed look his alter gave him. "I mean he's right about me. I've been keeping everything to myself, and that's not fair to either of you. I've been better with T.K.O., but I still barely let him come out. I really do want to do right by you guys, and if that means that I have to give some of my time up, then that's what I'll do."
P.K.O. put his hands to his chest. "Really? You'd do that?" he asked, eyes hopeful.
"Of course," K.O. replied with a small smile. "You just gotta promise not to try to take over forever again."
"Woah woah woah, wait a minute," T.K.O. interrupted them. "I already get a day once in a blue moon, but now this bum's gonna be cutting into that? Get real!"
"It doesn't have to be like that," said K.O., brows furrowed as he rubbed his chin. "...What if we took turns? That way everyone gets the same amount of time."
"Turns? I can do turns," P.K.O. chirped, his mood doing a complete one-eighty. "But how do we decide whose turn it is? Is it like we get a few hours, or is it like an 'I watch TV, you trade cards' kind of thing?"
"The back and forth's gonna get annoying real quick," said T.K.O., his scowl doing little to hide his own enthusiasm at the prospect of getting more time out. "If we're doing this at all, I think we should go by days. I call weekends."
"But there's seven days, and three of us. Who would get the extra day?" asked P.K.O.
"I guess you could have it," K.O. hummed thoughtfully. "I mean, we experience things through you anyway, right? So if T.K.O. and I each get two days, and you get three, then it's kind of like we're all sharing the day!"
"I feel like there's something wrong with that logic, but it works for me, I guess," T.K.O. shrugged.
"Oh, this is so exciting!" P.K.O. squealed, squirming in place. "I can't believe I'm gonna get three days, every week, forever! Ooh, and if something big like Boxman Jr. shows up, can I fight it?"
"Don't start getting greedy," T.K.O. warned him. "Besides, I'm the powerhouse between the three of us. K.O. borrows my powers but can't use them for squat, and the second you get a little upset you can barely stand up. If anyone gets the big battles, it should be me."
"I think that makes sense," said K.O. "But we all like fighting bad guys, so maybe whoever's turn it is gets to fight? But if it's too much to handle, then we can give it to T.K.O." P.K.O. crossed his arms with a mild huff, and T.K.O. gave him a smug look.
"Oh, one more thing!" K.O. held up a finger. "If you want to do something that doesn't happen on your turn, like if T.K.O. wanted to go to school," the alter in question pulled a disgusted face, "then you should be able to trade days. But no stealing turns, and definitely no taking control and causing trouble."
"Sounds good to me!" P.K.O. cheered, grinning excitedly.
"You sure about that?" T.K.O. asked with a quirked brow. "Because the first thing you apparently did today was try to take over."
P.K.O. shot him a look. "I only did that because I couldn't do anything else. I wouldn't have done it if I knew this was an option."
"Feh. I'll believe it when you stop being a total liar."
"So are we in agreement, guys?" K.O. asked with forced cheerfulness, leaning forward so that he was blocking their view of each other.
T.K.O. rolled back on his heels, putting his hands on his hips. "Yeah, sure."
"I am!" P.K.O. added, bouncing on his toes.
"Then it's settled!" K.O. clapped with finality. "It's Wednesday, so that makes today your day, P.K.O.!"
The smile on the fusion's face slipped, and he turned away, fingers tapping. "...I don't know if that's a good idea right now. I did some bad stuff last time I came out. Even if I explained what was going on, I don't think anyone would believe me. You should be the one to tell them."
"Look, he cares now," T.K.O. snarked. "If you really felt so bad about it, then why the heck did you do it in the first place, huh?"
"Ugh, can't I say anything without you ragging on me?!" P.K.O. snapped, whirling to face his counterpart. "It's like you're trying to push my buttons!"
"I'm not pushing anything," T.K.O. spat, shoving past K.O. so that he could jab a finger at- or rather through- P.K.O.'s chest. "I'm calling you out on your little victim act. Surprise, no one's buying it."
"I'm not-! Arrgh, I can't believe half of me is you!"
"Well I can't believe I make up half of a weakling like you who can't get what he wants without being a lying cheat!"
"Guys, please!" K.O. wailed helplessly. "How am I supposed to get back to work if you're just gonna fight each other?!"
"No way am I gonna be left alone all day with this jerkwad," P.K.O. griped. "You know what? Someone just unplug me. I'd do it myself, but I can't touch anything."
K.O. hesitated at the request, but T.K.O. had no issues, yanking the cord out of his brain so that P.K.O. disappeared in a bout of static. "Good riddance."
"T.K.O., you can't keep teasing him like that!" K.O. whined. "If P.K.O.'s gonna be staying, then we need him to feel welcome!"
"But I don't wanna welcome him," T.K.O. groused, crossing his arms. "He's sneaky, and annoying, and I just don't trust him! I don't want him to live here."
"He doesn't have to live here," K.O. reasoned. "We could make him his own house, so that way you guys can be by yourselves."
"I don't want him in our head, K.O.!" T.K.O. gnashed his teeth. "He's just going to take over again! He lied to Rad and Enid, he lied to mom, and he lied to us! And he'll keep lying until he has full control!"
"T.K.O., this isn't like before," K.O. mumbled weakly, but his alter's voice overpowered his.
"This is exactly like before!" T.K.O. shouted. "You know how I know that? Because I would've done the same thing. If you decided to shut me out right now, I would do whatever it took to get back. Even if there was no chance I would succeed, I would never, ever stop trying. The difference is you'd know it if it were me."
K.O. was silent for a moment, contemplating his alter's words. "...So you don't like P.K.O... because you are like P.K.O.?"
"No, it's not-! Urgh, it's not like that!" T.K.O. yelled, digging claws into his scalp before throwing his hands outwards. "You and me, we don't have to fight for control any more! But sometimes, I expect that one day you'll take everything away again, and I want to take everything first so that you can't. But I don't, because I know you won't. P.K.O., though? He's no better than me. He's probably worse. We can't trust him."
K.O. rested a hand on T.K.O.'s shoulder. "Oh, T.K.O. You always see the worst in everybody."
T.K.O. gave him a bitter look. "Gee, thanks."
"I didn't mean it like that," K.O. quickly backtracked. "What I meant to say was, you pay so much attention to the bad stuff, you forget to look at the good stuff, even in yourself. You really have changed a lot in the past few months. You're trying so hard to make the things you did right, and that's incredible! It shows that you're a really good person. And if you can change, then so can P.K.O. But you need to give him a chance to fix his mistake, and that starts with... just being there for him."
T.K.O. frowned, wrinkling his nose. "When did you start making so much sense? I hate it." K.O. stuck out a bashful tongue, and T.K.O. sighed harshly. "Fine, I'll try to be a little nicer. But he's not living with me, and the second I suspect him of anything shady, I'm disconnecting him for good."
K.O. chuckled, certain that it would never come to that. "Thanks, T.K.O."
"Well, don't go thanking me yet. I might just do it anyway." K.O. grabbed his arm, leaning heavily on his shoulder with a sickeningly cheerful smile. "...What?"
"Are you gonna help me make a house after work?"
T.K.O. rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But only because you won't shut up if I don't."
K.O.'s smile split into a grin.
(~)
It was a little past K.O.'s bedtime when P.K.O. materialized in the mindscape. He was a little woozy, like he had been earlier that day, so he figured that he must be hooked up to the brains again. He looked at his hands to be sure; he could vaguely see the floor through his fingertips if he squinted hard enough. When he looked up, he saw K.O. and T.K.O., the former eagerly standing on his toes and the latter pointedly looking away. "Hi, P.K.O.!" chirped K.O.
P.K.O. blinked. "Hey. You really did bring me back."
"Of course we did!" K.O. laughed. "You didn't think I was making it up, did you?"
P.K.O. sheepishly rubbed his arm, averting his eyes. "I mean, a little bit."
K.O.'s smile took on a nervous twist. "Er... Oh yeah! T.K.O. and I wanted to show you something! Come on!" He made to grab P.K.O.'s arm, but like before, his hands passed right through. "Hmm... Let's try this." He concentrated for a moment, and this time when he reached out, he was able to take P.K.O.'s hand. "Okay, now come on!"
P.K.O. stumbled after him, letting himself be pulled along, while T.K.O. followed at a lazy pace. Across from the alter's house, nearly at the edge of the subconscious, was an almost identical house, almost being because it was beige, and it had no windows or decorations to speak of. P.K.O. stared up at it, not quite comprehending what he was seeing.
"We thought we'd let you decorate it," K.O. was saying, "but we already put some stuff inside. Come take a look!" He led P.K.O. through the door, showing him the house from the inside. It was mostly bare, but the necessities were there, like a bed, a fridge, and a K.O.-vision set. There was also a CD player in the bedroom, alongside a handful of CDs. The kitchen cupboards were even stocked with an array of packaged and ready-made foods.
"I know it's mostly empty," said K.O., rubbing the back of his head, "but is it... okay?"
"Okay? It's way more than okay!" P.K.O. grabbed K.O. and pulled him into an enormous hug. "Thank you so much, K.O.! I love it!"
"Don't forget about T.K.O.," K.O. managed to cough out. "He picked the colors, and he remembered that you liked Forty Two Aircrafts."
"T.K.O.?" P.K.O. let K.O. go, looking at his darker counterpart, who was still stubbornly ignoring him. "You helped? What happened to me being a manipulative jerk?"
"You're still a manipulative jerk," T.K.O. was quick to reply. "Buuut, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Don't make me regret it."
P.K.O. rolled his eyes, giving K.O. a knowing look. Then he grinned evilly, approaching T.K.O. and wrapping his arms around him. T.K.O. immediately started flailing, but K.O. followed P.K.O.'s lead, hugging his alter and effectively cutting off any exit.
"Oh, T.K.O.! You're so thoughtful!" P.K.O. gushed.
"I already regret everything!" T.K.O. screamed helplessly. Thankfully, his attackers released him soon after, and he made a show of dusting himself off and scowling. "Don't think this makes us buddy-buddy or anything. I still don't trust you as far as I could throw you."
"That's pretty far though, isn't it?" P.K.O. teased.
T.K.O. spluttered. "I-! That's not-! You know what I meant!"
K.O. laughed, quite happy with how things had turned out. Sure, they all had a rough start, but at least they'd found a way for everyone to be happy. T.K.O. may not have forgiven P.K.O. for... well, K.O. still wasn't sure which part he was actually upset about, but he seemed to be on his way. And so long as he was making the effort, P.K.O. would remain content. K.O. really hoped that they'd start getting along.
At the very least, things were looking to be pretty interesting from now on.
P.K.O., your T.K.O. is showing.
Hoo boy, this was kind of a doozy. I literally couldn't write anything without T.K.O. giving me problems. He felt really one-track-minded in this one, but we'll say he's holding a grudge and call it good. That's in-character, right? -v-" P.K.O. was even worse, because I had to balance between him being excited with K.O. and seriously PO'd by T.K.O. This dude ain't easy, but I'm willing to suffer for him.
On an unrelated note, I might make an "Ask P.K.O." blog on Tumblr using this version of him. If any of you use Tumblr and would like to see that (and maybe ask him some questions), please let me know! :D
Part 6 will be coming fairly soon (some time in October, probably), so keep an eye out! But be warned; it will probably be one of the most hopelessly Cerebus stories I've written, and I once wrote about a robot gaining sentience, then being kidnapped, physically threatened, kidnapped again, brainwashed, and otherwise horribly traumatized. (it sounds worse than it is tbh) But yeah, have fun reading that when it gets here.