Finally managed to do a ficlet for TribeTwelve and EverymanHYBRID, holy jegus.

Not sure why I wrote this; probably out of boredom and because HABIT is hella fun to write for. You can't deny that his silly evilness is just plain wonderful, come on now.

Based around the events of TribeTwelve's Severance video, and the theory that the mysterious white-shirt man in the bathroom was Firebrand all along, because each of us knows that HABIT isn't going to pass up on the chance to stab someone he's supposed to be allies with. Especially if he has a valid excuse to do so.

Disclaimer: I do not own either of these wonderful Slenderseries, I'm just trying to pay a small tribute to them for being so utterly perfect.

Enjoy!

Involuntary coughing erupted from the cramped bathroom, the lanky man that had been holed up in there for what felt like eternity clutching uselessly at his side. Blood was running profusely through his fingers, staining his entire hand red. If he had known how much it would hurt, he never would have agreed to allow his ally to just…stab him like that. Without any warning whatsoever. He had ignorantly assumed that like most other things, he wouldn't experience much pain from the wound.

Sadly, he wasn't learning until now that it did, in fact, hurt like a bitch.

Faintly, as if hearing them through a long tunnel, the sound of familiar voices - one sickeningly playful, the other terrified and confused - drifted towards him as the door to the small space was swung open. The man tensed slightly, and through the coughing fit that was racking his entire body, he forced himself to focus on keeping his head lowered and face out of view of the two behind him. He hadn't even perceived the proceeding knocks and mocking inquiry that had been called through to him. A barely noticeable sneer of distaste made its way onto his features as the lights flickered on, his "partner" exclaiming something close to, "Oh- Howdy, pilgrim!"but he remained silent. Speaking in front of him would not be wise.

"Who the fuck is that?" the second, much more familiar, voice asked, thoroughly horrified. The injured figure cringed inwardly, unable to hold himself on his feet properly. What a display he must have been. "God, who is that?" A slight pause before he added, "…Is that Vinny?"

You stupid fuck, the entity hissed internally, only just managing to suppress the urge to turn around and shake his head in disappointment despite his pain. You can't even recognize yourself. It's no fucking wonder you've nearly died God knows how many times.

"That's not Vinny," the same person growled, more accusingly now.

…I fucking hate you sometimes, Noah.

Almost as soon as he'd managed to gather his thoughts enough for them to be coherent, the man in the bathroom felt his legs give in. A short, amused cackle sounded behind him before he heard, "Goodnight," the lights shutting off and the door closing, isolating him in darkness once again.

The fact that he'd collapsed onto the floor, hand still scrabbling uselessly at the wound embedded in his abdomen's side, didn't process until the freezing temperatures that the tiles below him were host to had already seeped into his skin. He was shivering and hacking and practically writhing in agony, but still he strained to listen to the events happening outside of the space he was trapped in. The entrance to the entire house slammed shut before silence seemed to ensue. The man was relieved for all of two seconds; not but a few moments later did he hear an angry shout, and another loud bang.

It felt like he stayed on that floor forever, simply allowing himself to have the warmth leeched from his body, choking up his own lungs. Eventually, though, a near inaudible click sounded again, light sweeping into the tiny room.

"Tsk, tsk," his consort chided, shaking his head dutifully and crouching down to examine the crumpled figure. The crisp and cool blade of a large knife traced across the crook of his neck, and he just managed to glare at the devilish entity from out of the corner of his eye. "…Did it really hurt that bad? Huh. Well, you win some, you lose some, am I right? Maybe we didn't really think that one through enough…But…Aw, shit, I better not have permanently damaged you. That'd be bad for both of us, wouldn't it? Speaking of which, how do you feel, Crispy?Still as snarky as ever, hopefully. You're fun to mess with – I mean, talk to." HABIT's face came into view, a disturbingly large and joyous grin stretching his mouth wide before he practically giggled in amusement. "So, how're you feeling? Go on, take your time with your answer; you're not in that good a shape, I know. Well, at least, now I do.I'll wait."

Not caring if the other was willing to wait for his response or not, "Crispy" coughed harshly into the crook of his arm several more times, waiting for the shudders running through his body to subside. At least now the sting in his side had mostly faded, replaced instead with a dull and stiff ache that was occupying the entirety of his lower abdomen. The crimson flowing from the wound had diminished remarkably, the blood beginning to form a clot. That was good. As long as the damn thing didn't get infected; he still wasn't sure if he'd be able to combat something like that.

After long, drawn-out minutes had passed, he raised his head to scowl hatefully at the smiling entity standing before him, a pained grunt escaping through clenched teeth as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"…You are a dick."

Again, HABIT merely chortled in delight, waving a dismissive hand and roughly pulling his ally to his feet despite his protest. The shorter man slung an arm around the other's shoulders, tilting his head side to side and grinning all the while.

"So I've heard, my friend, so I've heard. In fact, little Noah, who, from my understanding just so happens to be you, just called me an asshole several times, among other things," he said in a low voice, feigning seriousness and offense and holding a hand to his chest. "To think! After I tried to help the little fucker! How audacious!"

"Don't call me 'Crispy'."

"Fine, then. Loosen up, Fireburnt."

"Go to Hell."

"Already been there!" HABIT cackled, pulling away from the other man and waving a finger in mock scolding. A thoughtful look crossed his features before he added, "Not really as much of a bad place as everyone makes it out to be…But hey! Maybe that's just me!"

Another deep frown etched itself onto Firebrand's face, the rogue proxy glaring daggers at his supposed partner. HABIT, for his part, hadn't stopped grinning the entire time, even though the other man wasn't exactly giving him the sort of reactions he had been hoping for. Normally he would have been much more sarcastic and snarky, but now he just seemed irritable. And not in the amusing way, either.

"…I have no doubt," Firebrand replied eventually, shaking his head with a tired sigh. "This better have worked, HABIT. I didn't let you stab me for nothing. Have my ties with the Administrator been cut or not?"

"Oh, I don't know-" the other entity drawled in a manner that suggested he actually did, shrugging and holding his hands out in a gesture that mirrored his words. "-why don't you tell me, Puppet Boy? D'ya feel any…different?"

Taking a deep breath to calm himself and focus more on his internal thoughts rather than the physical turmoil his body was in and the annoyance bubbling up inside him, Firebrand shut his eyes meditatively. Granted, considering that he was literally nursing an injury he had just suffered at the hands of the very entity before him, it probably wasn't all that smart to close off his sight while around him. But oh well, he supposed. If he was wounded again, so be it. After all, that was what he got for being a traitor.

The more he considered it though…he did feel different. Freer - however cliché it may have sounded - like a smothering blanket that had been covering him for an eternity had finally been removed. And like that blanket had weighed fifty pounds.

But it wasn't just his body that felt relieved; it was as if his mind had been healed as well. Rejuvenated. No longer could he feel his "siblings" thoughts press in and against his own, influencing his every decision and choice. Their voices were simply gone, leaving behind a sense of serene bliss. The veil of hazy static that had poisoned his consciousness his entire existence was lifted. For the first time since his session had begun, he felt…liberated. Like his own person.

It was so foreign to him that it was almost frightening.

"…It worked-"

"Of course it did, you burned up fuck," HABIT growled indignantly, throwing his arms out and giving the other a look that said, "Why wouldn't it?" He huffed and put his hands on his hips, mock glowering up at Firebrand. "You think I would lie about something like that? I'm offended. You and little Noah seem to be doing that to me a lot lately."

Firebrand swallowed past the bitter retort he had wanted to shoot back, staring down at his palms. Free. He was actually free. It was almost too good to be true.

Biting back his pride, the treacherous god eventually mumbled a quiet, "…Thank you."

The silence stretched on between the two, Firebrand wincing periodically. He still needed to tend to his injury. HABIT had done him a massive favor, but that didn't change the fact that he was bleeding and needed to stop that somehow.

"…Don't worry about it, partner," HABIT chuckled, grinning maniacally. "Glad to help out someone who's just as sick and tired of old Stick-In-The-Mud as me. Let's just hope you put that liberation to good use, yeah?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

"You could have just said, 'okay.'"

Firebrand remained quiet, watching as HABIT crouched to dig through the cabinet below the bathroom sink. Eventually the other entity stood back up, tossing a roll of thick cotton bandages and a tube of antibiotic ointment at Firebrand, who caught the supplies flawlessly. He examined the objects in hand for a few moments, head cocked to the side in curiosity, before giving HABIT a questioning look.

"I can't have you bleeding all over the fucking house, can I?" was the response he received. HABIT waved a hand impatiently, leaving the cramped space to tend to his whiteboard and the various things scrawled on it. He had more "notes" to add, after all. "Now come on; hurry up and take care of your skinny little self. Pizza's coming soon."

"And let me guess," Firebrand began, the tiniest of crooked grins tugging at the corners of his mouth. "If I want any, then-"

"-then you'd better not be fucking bleeding anymore."

The taller of the two men nodded, leaning back against the sink for support as he gingerly pulled the thin fabric of his shirt up and away from the wound in his side. It looked much worse than it felt; if he was even going to do anything for it, he'd have to clean the hell out of it. Just as he had looked up to ask HABIT (against his better judgment) for some sort of antiseptic, a rectangular, brown bottle labeled "hydrogen peroxide" hit him square in the chest. HABIT was standing in the front room of the house, grinning at him.

"Thought you could use that. Now hurry the fuck up; when we're done with pizza, we can go back and make that announcement video or whatever that you wanted to do. Got it?"

Again, Firebrand responded with a curt nod, beginning to tend to the injury that was causing his entire abdomen to ache. Briefly, for the first time since speaking with HABIT, he thought that maybe their partnership wouldn't be as horrible as he originally thought.

After all, he was getting freedom and pizza out of it. What more could anyone ask for?