"Gooooood morning!" grinned Lil' Nazbol, watching the person he'd rescued wake up as he bounced on the bed. After they had passed out in the alleyway, he had picked up their body and carried them to his house. His old hoodie had fit the person perfectly, as this person was extremely small for an adult. Their arms were wrapped in proper bandages now, the bleeding stopped completely.

"Ugh… where am I?" they muttered.

"You are in my house!" he returned happily. "My name's Lil' Nazbol, but you can call me Naz."

"Where's my LSD?" moaned the figure, seemingly not registering what Naz had said. They stretched before flopping over, facing the opposite direction from him.

Naz frowned. "Ellis Dee? Is she your girlfriend? Boyfriend?" He gasped. "Was Ellis the one who hurt you last night?"

The person laughed bitterly. "Maybe you're right. What was your name again?"

"Lil' Nazbol." He paused. Should he explain who he was, what he stood for? This person could very well treat him as horribly as the Centrists had. Or worse. He shuddered, clutching his coat closer to himself. He just decided to ask the person again, "Who are you?" Maybe they'd have a more comprehensive answer, now that they were not suffering from blood loss.

"I, well…" Their face grew into one of gloom. "I don't really know anymore."

"That's okay!" smiled Naz. He didn't know what was wrong with this person, but he would try his best to fix them. "Anyways, are you a boy or a girl?" he asked, quoting Professor Oak from one of his favourite childhood games. "I can't call you 'they' forever."

They froze, eyes narrowing, slowly turning towards Naz. "What did you just say?"

"I said, 'are you a boy or a girl?' There are two genders, after all," Naz repeated. He didn't know why it was such a big deal for this person to answer.

They slowly rose up from the bed, wincing as their bandaged arms scraped the blanket, slowly lurching towards Naz. "Kid, are you some kind of fash?"

"I…" Defeated, Naz nodded. He'd have to explain and then he'd get laughed at. "Part fash, part com-"

He was interrupted as he was tackled to the floor with a flying jump from the person he'd rescued. Despite being light enough that Naz had picked them up last night, his attacker was strong enough to pin Naz against the ground.

"I will give you five seconds to explain yourself, disgusting fascist!" screeched the now surprisingly mobile person. As Naz stared into their eyes, paralyzed with fear, he noticed that they'd swapped colours from an earlier cold gray to bright green.

"I- I'm a Nazbol! National Bolshevik!" screamed Naz in terror. "Culturally right! Economically left! Please don't hurt me!"

The fist stopped inches away from his face. Naz quivered in fear.

"Please…" he whimpered.

They sat back, brushing themselves off. "I'll give you a pass. You're just a kid, and you did save me."

"W-what do you think of my…" Naz sat up and looked down at himself self-consciously. "My ideology. Do you, d'you think it's, like, a contradiction?"

"Dude, every ideology is a contradiction except mine." They smirked.

"What are you, anyways?" muttered Naz.

"You helped me realize, Nazbol. Uh, Naz, was it?" They stretched, shaking themselves off. "The fash must be bashed. Unless they're kids. But yeah. No matter how much I try to deny it, I'll always be Ancom."

"Ancom, huh." The third Extremist. And this person had said they'd known Commie and Nazi. Gears turned in Naz's mind, for what end goal he knew not.

"And one last thing, before I go back to sleep." They yawned. "It's unnatural, waking up before three in the afternoon."

"Yeah?" Naz made a mental note. Do not wake up Ancom, or I will get beaten up.

"It's que/quem."