A/N: Heya! For those that get alerts only for Lethe – I also posted a story arc of Lethe that no longer has any application to the story itself, but still takes place within the Lethean universe. Any events that happen in that arc are not going to spoil anything for this story, so no worries there. Just a heads up if you're interested.

Also I know you're in pain. I'm in pain too. Let's be in pain together.

I vamped up the rating to M strictly because of Marx's swearing. I… didn't realize he swore as much as I suddenly noticed he does, and I don't think that falls under the T category. What do you guys think of the rating? Fair?

Chapter 11

"You have no idea how much this hurts, Magolor!" screeched Marx.

"Stop squirming."

"Ow ow ow ow."

"Just sit still! You're making it worse!"

"Ohstars everything's spinning – Maggy, you have three heads, hoolly Nova. Woozy. I am feeling woozy."

"If you stopped talking so much you might actually be able to stay conscious."

"Conscious? I'm conscious. This is me, being conscious. I am so- ohwhoa."

Marx and Magolor were currently in the Halberd's first aid room; Magolor very patiently trying to tend to a very uncooperative Marx.

Meanwhile, Kirby sat on top of the locked door. The first aid room, like much of the Halberd itself, was entirely lopsided, and the door was now on the ceiling. Not having the stomach or desire to join them, Kirby simply hugged his knees to his chest and listened to their absurd conversation drifting from the cracks.

"Kirby is so much better at this than you," Marx was slurring, "that guy! Let me tell you. That guy knows how to fix people."

"Sit still," chided Magolor.

"Ohhwow. Is that my rib? I think it stopped hurting."

"No Marx, that's a bandage."

"Oh."

"Stop poking it; you're going to make it bleed again."

"Don't you worry about me, Mags. I'm doing great."

"Glad to hear it."

"Is that a needle?!"

"Marx, that's been a needle for the past hou-"

"Shoo! Get that needle away from me! I am fine. Healed! Look, I think I can get up already-"

"Oh no you don't!" A loud crash, a yelp, and a thump.

Magolor let out an exasperated sigh. "That idiot…"

The next minutes passed in relieving silence, with only the occasional clatter of tools or the tread of Magolor's footsteps as he gathered more materials from the floor or cupboards. Then running water, until it sputtered and died, prompting another sigh from Magolor.

An hour or so later, the scraping of a chair across the floor, and Magolor knocked lightly on the door. "Kirby? Are you still there?"

Kirby scooted off the door but said nothing.

The lock clicked and Magolor very ungracefully clambered out of the room and flopped to the floor like a grounded fish.

Kirby looked away silently.

"Sorry about all the blood," Magolor said, brushing off his cloak, "I mean, the water wasn't working, and I don't really have another outfit here."

No response.

Magolor continued, "he's gonna be okay, I think. He'll survive, at least. I don't know about anything more than that yet, though."

Still no response.

"Okayyyyy." Magolor said slowly. "Um." He rubbed his palms together idly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine," Kirby said.

"Okay, that's fine. Totally cool. I'm uh," he got to his feet hastily. "I'm gonna go to the Lor to get some things. Can you stay here?"

Kirby nodded mutely, and Magolor darted off, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

At first it had been all grief and panic and horror and desperate futile attempts to save Meta Knight, but it had been pretty obvious from the start that 'saving' was out of the question. But now everything just flatlined. All the spikes and waves of brain activity, of thought and emotion, sank into one straight, dull line, going on and on and on without ever changing.

He wasn't entirely sure the events of the last few hours had even occurred; on some level, he was certain they hadn't.

Everything now couldn't be anything more than a dream.

Drifting in a mirage of unreality, Kirby scooted back to the edge of the door and dropped in feet first. He landed crooked on the chair Magolor had placed beneath the door - it nearly sent him sprawling to the floor before he ungraciously leapt off and pin-wheeled his arms to gain back balance.

The floor was littered with supplies ranging from syringes, broken jars, cotton balls, and nylon sutures, to various medicine bottles (some ruptured and leaving discolored puddles), hooked needles, and gloves. Magolor had righted a metal table amongst this mess and on this lay Marx, spread eagled and unnaturally still. Huge swathes of white cloth bundled his torso, and covered both his hands.

Kirby clambered onto the metal table, tucking his knees carefully on either side of Marx. His eyes raked up from the clean bandages to the vulnerable pale curve of Marx's throat, to an expression so serene only in sleep.

Kirby did not plan anything - he did not know in advance what his actions were to be. He only responded. Swung wherever the weird dream took him.

His fingers tucked mindlessly beneath the cloth bandage and peeled it away from Marx's skin, just a little. He peered under and saw a jagged messy line of stitches sloping down from Marx's collarbone. Following the line, he came across a mark of white puckered skin, two or three inches long maybe, just beneath Marx's ribs.

Of course. That was where Meta Knight had stabbed him last year, before their flight in the Halberd. Shivering, Kirby moved past the old scar and instead placed his hand flat over the new stiches.

They were messy and slick beneath his palm, but he barely noticed.

Tentatively, slowly, frightened but driven, he increased the pressure on the torn flesh, until his nails were digging into the nylon and his teeth were clenched together with the effort. He was certain he was shivering but he couldn't remember being cold.

Suddenly Marx flinched beneath him. A helpless whimper departed from his throat.

Pinpricks of blood bubbled from the wound; Kirby dug his nails in harder.

"Ngh!" Marx weakly lifted a hand to protect himself, and Kirby's brows furrowed as he saw it up close. He abandoned his initial task and instead delicately grasped Marx's right wrist. Bringing that hand closer to his face; he noticed only then the eerie way it was wrapped, with the pointer finger entirely flattened down and…. No…

Kirby squinted. There was no pointer finger. The bandage was knotted directly over the knuckle. And the middle finger wasn't all there either, maybe only up to the first joint.

"Kirby?" someone shouted out; Kirby jumped and dropped Marx's hand.

Closer now, "oh there you are."

Kirby looked up and saw Magolor peering down through the doorway. "Uh… what are you doing down there?" the Halcandran inquired.

"Um…"

"He's bleeding again!"

"Whu-?" Kirby glanced down and saw that indeed, a spreading stain of red had appeared directly on the spot he'd pressed.

I did that?

"Kirby!" Magolor dropped down from the doorway and swooped over to the table, "Shoo! Get off him! What did you do?"

Kirby scrabbled off the table so rapidly that he nearly face planted onto the floor. "He's missing fingers," he said blankly as he darted out of Magolor's way.

The Halcandran, who had changed into an identical outfit as before, sans all the blood, pushed up his sleeves angrily and set to work again, retorting with, "yes, and he's gonna lose his life if you don't leave him alone! I'm not very good at this to begin with; it's like trying to button a shirt in the dark. With your feet! You don't want him dead, do you?"

"I'm not going to hurt him," Kirby muttered, "I don't want to hurt people."

"Okay, I mean, you just kinda reopened potentially fatal wounds, but okay."

Kirby burrowed deeper into himself.

"Sorry." Magolor scurried around until he found more sutures, and finding these, returned to Marx's side. "I understand that you're a little, um, conflicted now. But can you be conflicted somewhere else?"

"Right."

"Sorry. Y'know, I do think what you were trying to do was good, Kirby. The whole making peace between everyone thing. For what it's worth, I do wish Marx had listened."

"Thank you," Kirby said, "but I don't really want consolation from you right now. You're like Marx; you aren't what you pretend to be."

He turned away and climbed out of the room. Wandering the halls, he found himself eventually back outside, to the gaping hole in the Halberd. He ascended up the hull and sat atop the entire wreckage, where the hot desert sand bit into his cheeks and eyes and the sun burned the pale skin of his arms.

There was an ache that never left his insides, and his head tried to crowd itself with so many thoughts;

Replays in grotesque detail; grief that gnawed tirelessly

because it's all for you, Hero of Dreamland, it's all your fault;

questions of his own identity, despair against his unknown fate, helpless gratitude towards Meta Knight – an appreciation too late in occurring, and hatred, so much hatred; eternal fear of himself and of Marx, for his safety and his vindictive nature; a paralyzing fear also of anyone else getting hurt; and even darker, deeper, a fear of them being hurt by himself, and grief of a depth he wished he had never known before.

His eyes fluttered shut; he may have fallen asleep sitting there, but wasn't sure; he only knew that suddenly someone was calling for him, and he imagined it was Meta Knight, and that it was back in Dreamland…

But that was ridiculous, because he hadn't been in Dreamland in a long time, and he could never go back there, not with Marx, and he had to stay with Marx because if he didn't, he'd only destroy more

Even if I'm completely helpless to stop him

But there was nothing left of Kirby's to destroy, nothing left but Dreamland and Fumu, and if Kirby expressed a desire to never return, maybe those things would be saved-

"Kirby! KIRBY!"

He opened eyes gritty with sand and tears. Magolor had joined him up on the hull. "' mhere," Kirby acknowledged.

"Stars," Magolor slumped. "I thought you were dead for a minute there – you know how much Marx would get after me for that?"

Kirby shrugged.

"Come on, get down. You're gonna get heat stroke or something."

"I'm okay."

"Yeah yeah. Don't make me carry you."

"Meta Knight trusted you. I could see that. And you betrayed him."

"Wow, um… you're a lot more confrontational than I expected."

Kirby narrowed his eyes. "Why did you let Marx hurt him? Why didn't you stop him? He listens to you."

"H-hey, easy… He might not listen to me as much as you think. If I say something he doesn't like then it's zilch, done; he does what he wants."

"You could have at least tried."

"I did, Kirby. I tried to keep him off as long as possible, I was hoping you'd find another-"

"Don't. I heard the way you were breathing the whole time. It… it fascinated you, or intrigued you, or…." Kirby turned his head away.

Magolor threw up his hands, "okay, I tried! I can't help it; Marx is… he's artistic."

"Artistic?" snarled Kirby.

Magolor flinched. "I-I mean, if you put aside the situation, Marx's fighting is something to watch."

Kirby lurched to his feet. "You let Meta Knight die because it looked artistic?"

"No – no, not that fair, I didn't mean for it-"

"It's okay to put a living being's life at risk because it's interesting to watch? It's worth making that gamble just because you want to admire some sick sort of art?"

"Ah, I may have misspoke; I didn't mean that was the so-"

"What is this all for? Everything Marx has done, everything; is it just pointless slaughter? Was it all for such a stupid reason? Is that why you betrayed Meta Knight?"

"Uh, Kirby, maybe you should calm down; I don't really know how to handle, um, you."

"Me?" Kirby growled, "why me? What did I even do back there?"

"Well, um… I-I don't really know if-"

"What am I?" Kirby ground out.

"A-ah um, I'm, I mean, maybe you should wait for Marx-"

A seething hiss started low in his chest and surged into a scream. Magolor was backing up and tripping over his cloak, and Kirby absolutely roiled with hate, it was like a living thing pumping hot and evil through his blood; he hated the fact he was different; he hated the fear in Magolor's eyes; his anger and his grief; he hated Meta Knight for trying to protect him, and most of all he hated himself.

And then he felt it – somewhere deep deep inside, something shifted; he'd felt it once before, right as he'd thrown Meta Knight and Marx back. It was something much more powerful than him, something with limitless strength, something dark and straining to be released. If he only desired to, he realized, he could shred to pieces the remains of this ship and everything in it.

Instantly his fury vanished. Terror replaced it, because whatever that was, it wasn't him.

Bile rose in his throat. With nausea settling in his stomach, he saw the unadulterated fear in Magolor's eyes. "I'm sorry," he gasped.

"You're not gonna hurt me with your creepy demi-god power thingies?"

"I don't hurt people."

"Promise?" squeaked Magolor.

"I don't," Kirby insisted.

"Hey, better safe than sorry. You looked a little 'psycho axe-murderer' there."

Kirby shook his head violently. "I didn't mean to. I'm not actually scary. If you talked to anyone back home… they'd think it was stupid to even suggest it."

"Just making sure." Magolor slowly approached again. "During the fight; that was the first time you used it?"

Kirby nodded shakily. "I-I didn't even know I could do something like that."

"So Marx really didn't train you?"

"No. He… never told me."

Magolor nodded as if it had confirmed something positive for him. He smiled warmly at Kirby; despite the fact his scarf disguised his mouth, he managed to radiate a feeling of warmth and good-will. "Everything will make sense in the end," he said in what Kirby guessed was supposed to be a reassuring tone. He patted Kirby's shoulder and then stood, saying something about going to the Lor Starcutter again.

Kirby figured he was uncomfortable lingering in the Halberd for any longer than necessary, and much preferred the comfort of his own ship. Kirby could understand the feeling. He missed being ungrounded, safe in the warship's hull, drifting through deep space.

He missed that simplicity.

"You gotta help me," Magolor stressed, pacing back and forth in front of the metal surgical table, crushing under his feet glass bottles and syringes. "Like, you really really gotta help me. Your little 'pet?' He's freakin' terrifying! I'm just waiting for him to go on a mad rampage and kill me. I think he blames me more than you! I didn't even do anything! Well, I mean, there was the whole 'betraying your life mentor' thing, but I mean, that was sort of minor in comparison to watching you grotesquely rip out his thr-"

"He loves me," Marx interrupted, keeping his eyes crushed shut. "I get amnesty."

"Oh, ha-ha. Seriously, Marx! Does he have a short circuit somewhere? An off button? A 'scary magic temporary removal' switch?"

"He doesn't hurt people." Marx very slowly tried to shift to his side – several hours on his back was doing nothing good for his spine. Pain wreathed up his entire stomach and chest; gasping out, he lay flat again. "Everything hurts!" he yelled, then groaned at the effort.

"Yeah, he keeps saying he doesn't hurt people," Magolor said hastily, "but he's a ticking bomb, buddy. I don't trust him an inch."

Marx sighed. "He's harmless."

"You need to deal with him for me," Magolor whined.

"Oh let me just get up and do that," Marx bit back, waving his hand dramatically above his face.

Magolor shook his head. "Alright alright. Don't you move at all; you'll open the stitches again."

"I have so much of a choice right now."

"About that…" Magolor slunk closer to the table. "What's wrong with you, Maruku?"

"Aside from a gaping wound across my entire torso, a few lost fingers, and a lot of lost blood, I think Marx is doing pretty lovely."

"No – I've seen you fight before. You don't usually mess up like that."

"Meh."

"Normally you're pretty hard to nick, ever."

"My spine is dying, Mags. Dyingggg."

"Were you already hurt before the fight?"

"I was hurt. So hurt. My feelings were hurt by your long absence."

"Was Meta Knight that good?"

"I hate you, Magolor."

"I hate you too. But yknow, you did kill Meta Knight, no matter how good he was."

"Yeah, yeah."

Magolor smiled. "It's nice to see you again."

Marx smirked. "I missed you too. Now can you get me a pillow or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Magolor left the first aid room to search for bedrooms. He wound through many darkened hallways and not for the first time wished he'd brought matches – but luckily, he was eventually able to find a few pillows, which he brought back to Marx.

All the while, he hadn't seen hind nor hair of the Kirby of the Stars, which in his mind was very suspicious. He hadn't even glimpsed him sitting atop the Halberd any longer.

Maybe Marx trusted him not to wander off – and trusted him not to go on a murderous rampage or anything – but Magolor wasn't sure he shared that same trust.

Frowning, he set to scouring the Halberd: which, by the way, was an astronomical task made even worse by the fact the entire ship lay in various-sized pieces.

Eventually he made his way back to where the fight had taken place, and that's where he found Kirby, kneeling beside the very still form of his old mentor in the darkened hallway.

Meta Knight lay as if in sleep, but for the bed of blood he slumbered in. A blanket had been placed with great care to cover up his body from chin down. Kirby himself knelt by his side.

One hand was delicately extended, the tips of his fingers grazing the dead knight's cold metal mask in solemn regard. The other hand was folded in his lap in quiet sigil; his expression was oddly open and sad in a way Magolor had not witnessed before.

Beside Kirby rested the unsheathed golden sword Magolor feared, with its leather casing laid nearby.

"I see you took that sword," Magolor said edgily.

"Galaxia."

"Galaxia?"

"It's the sword's name."

"Okay… just… keep it away from me, okay?"

Kirby nodded silently, not removing his eyes from the metal mask of his defeated mentor.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay, right? I guess you two were close?"

"Not as close as we should have been. I ignored him for the past year. I never even really said goodbye."

"It is pretty awful he's gone. I'm sorry, Kirby."

Kirby shook his head. "I should have done something."

"Ah." Magolor rocked back and wondered if conversations with Kirby always went this awkwardly. "I dunno; I'm not sure there was anything more you could do. You tried."

"I know what Marx is like. I should have known he wouldn't stop."

"About that…" Magolor said slowly. "He hasn't actually told me anything about… I mean. How long have you two even known each other? How'd you meet?"

Kirby turned his face away; he wasn't in the mood for an interrogation about his and Marx's history. He didn't want to think about any of it, least of all talk about it, particularly to someone like Magolor.

"How… close are you; you and Marx?" Magolor dared.

Kirby blinked. What. What did that question have to do with anything?

"The only impression I got was that he likes you, which… for him, is saying a lot. So I thought maybe, I mean… It's possible that…"

Kirby stiffened. No. If this had to do with the weird not-so-much-friends things he didn't want to think about, he was so not okay to discuss them with Magolor, of all people – or anyone: he wasn't even ready to acknowledge that it existed, least of all now.

"I'm saying…" Magolor stalled.

How could he have figured that out already?

Are they invol-?

"After Marx wakes up a bit more," Magolor said slowly, "I may, uh, I mean… wow, let me just rephrase all this in a better way." Magolor smiled, "Marx has a very special diet. He also likes to eat in private. So I think after he wakes up, it'd be nice if you just stayed back for a little bit, maybe on the Lor, and then I'll come get you when he's done."

Oh. That. Kirby was so relieved he nearly smiled, if he hadn't forgotten how for the time being. "You mean that he eats people?"

Magolor stared. "Well that sounded freakish coming out of your mouth."

He shrugged in response.

"You, uh, you know about that then?"

Kirby nodded and added, "but he doesn't do it anymore."

Magolor's stare had progressed through another stage now, from 'wow look at that five legged goat' to 'wow look at that seven headed monster with fourteen horns and a purple tongue.' "He… he what?"

Finally it seemed like Kirby was delivering some good news. "We made a compromise last year," he explained, "where he agreed not to do that anymore."

"What did you give up for it, your soul?"

"No," Kirby retorted. "He just promised not to anymore."

"So… it wasn't a compromise. It was him agreeing to stop for you without anything in return."

"Yes. I protect other people from him; that's what I do. And I'm not going to mess up again." Kirby's hand circled around Galaxia's hilt and he brought the sword into his lap.

Magolor scooted back. "Ah, okay, right? You're not – you're not planning on killing him, are you?"

"What? No!"

"That's how Meta Knight decided to go about it!"

Kirby glared. Whose side was Magolor on anyway? "Killing people doesn't do anything – neither does hurting them. I'm not going to do either."

"Hmph. Well, Kirby, I'm sorry to break the news, but Marx doesn't just give up stuff. He probably lied to you about that compromise."

"He didn't lie, Magolor. I know. He lies about a lot of stuff, but he isn't lying about this."

"Don't get upset!" Magolor threw up his hands to shield his face.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Kirby muttered.

"Says you and Marx!"

Kirby yanked his head up, "Marx is awake?"

"Barely. We probably shouldn't bother him right now."

"Is he…?"

"He's not dead, and that's all I can promise," grumbled Magolor. "It might be a while before he'll be up and moving. While we're waiting, we could start moving stuff from the Halberd to the Lor."

"Moving stuff?"

"Well, yeah. You know we're not staying on the Halberd, right? This ship isn't ever getting in the air again."

Kirby's heart sank. "There isn't any way we could salvage the Halberd?"

The Halcandran shook his head. "Sorry, Kirbster. It'd take months to rebuild it from where it's at. I don't think we even have half the materials we'd need. Plus, I have no idea how to repair ships. That's what- oh. Nevermind."

Kirby curled into himself. With the loss of the Halberd, he knew even less where they were supposed to be going or what they were meant to do. He knew they couldn't stay on Nashira; that was out of the question; and logically it made the most sense to just take the Lor Starcutter and leave but…

But for the things they'd be leaving behind.

"How did you crash anyway?" Magolor was asking.

"Ran out of fuel," answered Kirby, absorbed still in his grim thoughts.

Magolor chuckled. "So you were right, after all."

Kirby shrugged. "I don't feel very victorious about it."

"Marx gets reckless when it comes to the people he cares about," sighed Magolor. "He's too willing to kill himself for what he likes. It's a pity the fuel didn't hold for just a little longer, though."

"I didn't really get the impression he cared about too many people," Kirby said lowly.

"Nah. All the devotion most people get over a whole slew of friends, Marx concentrates on a very limited number of people. Probably why he's so dedicated."

"Does Marx have friends other than just you?"

Magolor choked out a laugh. "Uh, not really, no. By few people, I really only mean two."

"Two?"

"Yeah. You and me."

A pregnant pause. "So, you… you know him pretty well?"

"He's a little tricky, but I'd say I'd know him better than almost anyone."

"So you'd know if he cared about me?"

Magolor smirked beneath his scarf. "Kirby, he was way too mean to you over our call for him not to like you."

"That doesn't make any sense. And if he cared about me, wouldn't try to… not… do these things?"

Magolor shrugged, "I never said he was good at liking people."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He doesn't always know what to do is what I'm saying. How to treat people nice."

Kirby nodded mutely. "I think I know what you mean."

"So, uh.." Magolor clapped his hands together. "All the stuff on this ship is either yours or Marx's, right? So you're gonna need to tell me what to move. Clothes, toothbrushes, any valuables? What do you guys have on this huge ship?"

More like toothbrush, singular, but Kirby wasn't about to mention that. "Clothes, yeah… We just stocked up on food, too."

"Don't worry about food. My Lor has some pretty nifty machines that can make whatever you like."

"What?"

"Not even kidding!"

"I'd like to bring it anyway…" Kirby said uncertainly. "We did spend quite a bit on it. Anyway, Marx likes the foreign foods."

Magolor shrugged, "alright, but I'm not gonna carry anything unnecessary over."

In the end, excepting the food, there was very little that Kirby wanted to take from the gargantuan ship.

It helped that they had left Dreamland with nothing. Everything they'd used had been first found upon the Halberd itself, and everything was replaceable. Kirby considered taking the captain's chair out of sentiment, but Magolor sternly dissuaded him once they actually made it to the shattered control deck: the chair, along with everything else, had been reduced nearly to rubble.

They salvaged several boxes and packed everything in those few.

"No chance you could just levitate this stuff over?" Magolor complained beneath a pile of these boxes as they cautiously picked their way out of the Halberd and into the desert.

"I told you I don't know how to control it," grumbled Kirby. He wished Magolor would stop bringing it up. He felt miserable enough without everything else going on.

"Just asking," he sang. They dumped the few boxes into the Lor's control deck.

This was the first time Kirby had seen Magolor's ship, and he found it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Everything on the Lor was too bright, nearly all painted in blues and white. All the halls were empty and spacious; its engines, too, were silenced by design and did not produce the same comforting hum Kirby knew from the Halberd.

When Magolor advised that Kirby package up whatever food he wanted to bring, Kirby was happy to comply because it meant returning to the familiar dark ship – however ruined it was now. Magolor mentioned he was going to stop by the nearest town for supplies, even though Kirby wasn't sure what they actually still needed.

Of course, he figured it out fairly quickly when Magolor returned not half an hour later – but he did not return alone.

The Halcandran was sneaking back into the Halberd while leading a hapless messy-haired Nashiran boy probably around Kirby's age. The boy was looking very un-amused and wore a deep frown.

"Ah, Kirby!" Magolor spread out his arms as soon as he glimpsed Kirby, "there's my friend. I have other help, of course, but Kirby here isn't very strong, so… we needed you, Telranni."

"Telvan," the boy responded in annoyance. "What do you need me to carry out?"

"He's helping us move?" Kirby asked. But haven't we gotten everything?

"Of course!" Magolor said, "right this way, Telvan." They wound down the hall, and Kirby frowned. They had already moved everything out, and anyway, that hall wasn't where any of their personal stuff had been. That was the first-

Then it hit him.

"Magolor!" he yelled, stalking down the hallway, "I know what you're doing!"

"Doing? I'm not doing anything but moving out our valuables!" Magolor responded, waving his hand idly above his head.

"Uhuh right." Kirby caught up and nagged Magolor's arm. "Tel- Telvan, do you mind giving us a moment?"

The boy scowled. "You aren't paying me enough to be standing around when I need to back home."

Magolor slapped a bunch of notes into his hand and Telvan, eyes wide, added, "On second thought, I can wait."

Kirby dragged Magolor away and hissed in his ear, "Marx isn't going to accept that."

"Kirby, I do very much think you're a good person, but Marx needs to eat properly, and as his friend, it's my responsibility to feed him. Please don't interfere with that."

Kirby pulled a face, "ugh. This… this isn't the first time you've had to do this, is it?"

"Ah, no."

"That's disgusting. But I told you he doesn't do that anymore!"

Magolor carefully touched Kirby's shoulders and steered him to the side, "sorry, Kirby, but Marx does lie. Please stay calm. No crazy power-loaded attacks." He scurried back to Telvan. "Here ya go! Into this room, please."

Telvan clambered down into the first aid room; his fingers had barely left the frame when Magolor slammed the door and locked it.

"Hey!" Came a muffled shout from within, "hey what's wrong with you?" Banging on the door, "let me out, right n- oh."

"You put him in alive?" Kirby said.

"I don't want to do the dirty work!"

"Marx isn't even in a fit enough shape to walk around…. How is he supposed to…?"

Magolor cringed, "he has his ways, Kirby. He can be persuasive."

Well that was disturbing. "He's not going to do it," Kirby insisted darkly. "I told you. He promised me, and for all his other faults, he's kept that promise."

"I'm sorry Kirby," Magolor placed a hand on his shoulder, "I really am. I know you hate seeing death and you don't want to adm-"

"I'm not a whore!" Telvan suddenly screeched up, "and your stupid handicapped friend isn't interested in me anyway! Let me out!"

"I'm not handicapped, you asshole!" roared Marx, rapidly followed by, "fuck! OW!"

"What the-"

"I told you!" Kirby said. "I told you he wouldn't!"

"But I don't understand!"

"Let me out!"

"Don't make me reconsider eating you!"

"You're disgusting! Open this door, you perverts!"

Bewildered, Magolor unlocked the door. Out climbed Telvan, cheeks darkened, eyes aflame with anger. "I can't believe you," he snapped at Magolor and stalked down the hallway, "I'm keeping your stupid money!" he added before breaking into a run.

"Aw." Magolor wilted on the spot. "I was gonna take that back after Marx was done."

"I told you," Kirby repeated. "Marx promised. Anyway, I said I'm not letting him hurt anyone else."

"Yeah." Magolor appraised him with new amazement. "I can't believe it."

"I'm still hungry!" Marx yelled up. "Foood. Need food."

"That was supposed to be your food," Magolor exclaimed.

"Yeah well blame Kirby. Blame him for all your problems, actually. Just bring me something to eat."

Magolor shook his head. "He really likes you."

Kirby shrugged and turned away. That didn't stop him during the fight.