Chapter 34: " A Defect "

The Tallest looked to his right and took the hallway down the same direction. His mind ventured towards Purple, but he waved it away as much as he could. Red didn't need to ask why he was going there; There were an abundance of spacecrafts and other vehicles that could be used there. The Irken blinked and had to remember that this was actually happening. He shook his head slightly, fear increasing in his heart.

He'd left Irk before. He remembered that. A lot of the time, actually, he spent inside the Massive with Purple. Whenever there were conquered planets that they were assigned to complete the Organic Sweep, they were away from Irk; Killing off the remnant of the natives to the planet and physically removing it's location to Irk, being pulled back with planetary chains with applause and victory resounding all over the ships' intercoms. He'd done this plenty of times. But today was the first that he felt the stringent factor of anxiety swelling in his blood, cold chills running over his skin as he walked. He focused on his breathing and tried to calm his excited nerves. It wasn't everyday the Tallest would venture where workers and civilians would abide, and so to see him would rouse suspicions. Red took a deep breath. He just needed to bypass them.

Here the main lights were getting dimmer and purple ducting that functioned as such became more prominent, shimmering brightly in the approaching darkness as they drew nearer to the Docking sector. It was here that the doors became more automatic and equipped with motion sensors. Red didn't entirely understand the rationale or sentiment behind the idea of shifting the technology, but he didn't give much to finding out why. He walked through another antechamber.

When you get there, take a Spittle runner.

I. Know.

Red felt that even in his thoughts it somehow betrayed his hesitance and apprehension. He took another deep breath and a glance around him to ensure he was alone. He wasn't; There were a few soldiers behind him, near another entrance one could go through. His nerves spiked and he took extra precautions around them.

Here, the doors opened before him and he finally reached the Docking Sector, where his heart had time to rest. It was relatively empty here. A few stationed soldiers and a small group of the maintenance crew made up the room's inhabitants and there were a few teleporters in the near distance. Red made sure to pinpoint the security panel for them. In an unrelated manner, he wished lightly that he could choose to operate a Voot cruiser. But they were outdated, and hardly in use anymore.

The Docking Sector was uniform with the palace, however the actual docks were made entirely of a black metal, contrary to the purple or red metals that were commonly used elsewhere. There was a large glass pane at the forefront of the sector, used to sustain the volatile energy of departing vehicles, where streams of pressurized gas can heat up the environment under a span of seconds to incalculable degrees. In lieu, there was a lingering, atmospheric scent that smelled of salt and smoky chemical deposits, despite the thorough cleaning the maintenance crew did.

Amusingly, the crew themselves often smelled of it. So much so it was almost like their skin diffused it.

There were only a few docking ports outside with fewer vehicles stationed to them, the Docking sector in this building used mainly as an auxiliary to the Docking Ring in Conventia. As Red strode through the room, the soldiers occupying it addressed him and saluted with the crew members bowing. It was almost as if he could feel their suspicions. But he only nodded at them and continued on. reached the security panel and pressed a few buttons to start it up.

"Choose your desired location." A computerized voice droned from a small speaker at the top right of the panel. Red typed in Conventia and waited anxiously as it calculated the amount of teleporters at the planet. He felt a sickening wave crawl through his stomach.

"Which port do you wish to arrive at?"

Red directed the route towards the teleporter closest to the Convention Hall. That way it made easier access to the Docking Ring and an easier escape.

"Sending transmissions to; Conventia. Port 7b84. Please wait."

Red felt nausea stirring inside him. His anxiety was becoming undeterrable. He let out a breath of exhaustion but he kept his posture still and tall, despite how much it bothered and pushed against his spooch.

Can't you make my nausea go away?

Red thought, with hope.

Sorry. I'm afraid what you're feeling is from your anxiety. I can only remove what I've convinced you of thinking was there.

"Dammit." Red cursed under his breath. He realized his actions and his nerves sent chills against his skin. He looked around to make sure nobody was listening.

It's alright, just calm down. Nobody knows what we're doing so long as you act like you're not doing anything wrong.

Red wasn't sure how to take in the fact his PAK was trying to be reassuring. He'd been so used to his derisive and pointed language that hearing him become anything different was almost something to be averse to. Red, however, didn't think much on it with the panel buzzing a few times.

"Error; cannot access any available ports at the moment."

Red groaned silently, the event not helping his anxiety, and was about to try again until somebody behind him tapped at his arm. He flinched from it and turned to realize it was one of the crew members. She was only about up to his chest.

"Sorry, My Tallest! I didn't mean to frighten you." She said, in a sheepish voice. Her hands tightened their grip around a clipboard she had currently pressed against her chest. "I noticed the security panel wasn't working. Here; May I help you?" She asked. Red nodded and moved out of the way for her, his stomach starting to curl inside. He swallowed, as he felt the muscles in his throat and his esophagus begin to strain and contract. He felt he was about to vomit. A cold pass shivered through his body and helped a little to ease his warm stomach, but it was a pass of his nervousness and it didn't alleviate his nausea for long.

The irken tapped at the keyboard on the panel and disregarded whatever speech the speaker intoned, trying to recalibrate it's routing parameters to accept ports of different accommodations, or even intercept one in use. After a while, she looked slightly flustered and the speaker was now at the point of only intoning errors and unavailable functions that she was trying to accomplish. At one point she pulled out a card, which Red presumed would give her an administrative access to it's hardwiring, and slid it along the thin opening against the side only for that to be denied as well. She sighed and turned back towards Red, her bashful expression arising in her face.

"I'm sorry. The machine isn't registering anything, so we'll have to completely re-stabilize it. I can direct to you to another teleporter band, If you wish. There's another one nearby." She said and bowed her head dutifully. When her head resumed back to her height level, her eyes flashed. Suddenly, her expression loosened and retained a blank, incomprehensive look. Red furrowed his eyes at her. Her's blinked and she looked back up at Red, studying his face with a sense of unsurety.

Red…

"What?" The Tallest spoke, instinctively, before holding his breath in realizing what he did. It was too late; the irken furrowed her eyes slightly in a disinclined manner.

"My Tallest..." She said, in a sullen manner. She appeared confused about something Red didn't know what about. He swallowed a lump in his throat, his anxiety beginning to rile his stomach. He took a few steps back and turned around, only to see the soldiers that were standing by the entrance to the lobby slowly start putting their rifles down.

It's the Control Brains, Red…They're…Talking to them.

Red shook his head slightly, the soldiers slowly extending their hands towards him, like trying to placate a hurt and riled animal. Red turned back once more and headed for the glass at the front of the room, where beside it was the door leading to the docks. Everybody in the near vicinity of the sector soon followed suit, some calling to him as to keep him from making rash decisions.

How? What are they saying?

I don't know. The PAK devices in the area are emitting higher electromagnetic frequencies at a much faster rate. I've...only seen this happen a few times…

Red approached the door next to the glass, leading to the outside. The security panel that allowed access to the docks was currently being loitered by a crew member, about as equal height of the woman he spoke with before.

"You." Red called, his breathing becoming unsteady. The Irken froze under the scrutiny. "Open the door. I wish to leave."

He didn't move at first. After a bit, he nodded slowly and began pressing the keys on the panel, his eyes flitting between the Tallest, the others around them and the security panel. The atmosphere in the room was becoming tight and rigid and the woman who'd tried to help him with the teleporter called out to him.

"My Tallest, please." She began. "Don't tire yourself out this way."

The soldiers and the other crew members in the area exchanged looks of a calculating nature. Then, in a silent, collective concurrence, the soldiers pressed on with the introduced idea.

"Please, sir. Allow us to escort you back. You appear sick. All we want to do is help." They said, trying to sound comforting. Red watched them, a cold terror riling in his heart.

Don't listen to them.

Red turned back to the man who was at the panel.

"I command you to open the door." He declared. The man stared back at Red, his face forming into an indistinguishable expression. He breathed to speak, but it remained as quiet and indecisive grunts and sighs. Finally, he glanced around at the others once more and back at his Tallest. His eyes flashed and he swallowed.

"I'm sorry." He whispered before pressing one of the bigger keys on the panel. The lights arrayed around the edges and keys changed to a deep red. The speaker on the surface beeped a few times and with that, the lights turned black and the panel powered down.

Red's antennae lifted, chills passing down his skin with pins and needles and backed away, his heart beginning to race.

"Damn you." The Tallest muttered, breathless. The man's countenance formed apologetically and his eyes became downcast. Red turned and recoiled to see one of the soldiers right behind him. He grabbed his wrist with a tight grip.

"Please, My Tallest." He entreated. "You're sick. You need time to convalesce." Red tore his hand away from him and scowled. Sweat was layering his brow.

"Don't you dare touch me. Obey me, I am your Tallest!" He shouted, trying to install what was once a subject everybody abided by. In a small recollection, everyone near him paused and stared. But after a few fleeting moments, the subject was put asunder with the irkens looking at each other with uncertainty and doubt. His title was now under question. Horror spread on his face.

Red shook his head and the soldier reached a hand out once more.

"Please sir. We would never hurt you."

Red stared at him. Long enough to realize he was a she and had just realized the curvature of her antennae. Her voice certainly didn't give any hints, along with the fact that her eyelashes were trimmed. Red blinked. Though his anxiety spiked through his body, he remained still and assessed the situation.

Red.

The voice intoned, urgently.

Hold on.

Red took a deep breath and glanced at the individuals in the room, trying to calm his nerves.

She pressed on.

"...May I escort you, sir?" She asked, more composed. Red looked at her, examining her eyes. In his efforts of appearing vacillant, the soldier made for his hand with a more gentle air about her. "It'd be an honor."

Red kept his gaze fixed. It was prominent the statement was fraudulent. But he kept the thought to himself and he nodded hesitantly. His heart leapt with fear at the implication, unsure with the results if he allowed them to play by their hands but he pressed on. She nodded, her expression becoming more welcoming and she grabbed his hand. She didn't forget to bow her head when she did so. Then she turned and lead him slowly to the entrance of the lobby, where the other soldier stood straight to attention. The atmosphere cooled down. Red took a deep breath.

Plan B.

This was what he needed. When Red was near the double doors leading out, he tore his hand away and lunged at the one of the stationary rifles and quickly fixed it into his fingers. The crew members gasped and piped expletives, bounding out of the way of the weapons pointed barrel. Red clutched the gun tightly and flexed his finger.

It charged up, the weapon warming in his hands and shot a rigid, large beam against the window. The clap of the impact deafened the silence in the room and the beam diffused into sparks against the collision force, discharging volatile heat waves. Where the glass was indented shone a hot, muddy black and the expanse that felt it's heat discolored into shades of brown, purple and blue. The soldier who was leading him lunged at him and grabbed the weapon. She wrestled with it and Red had to hunch back and pull away to keep his grip, the gun twisting in a sideways degree. He looked to make sure it's barrel was still aiming down at the window and began shooting mercilessly until the window began cracking. The soldier ripped the weapon from his arms and threw the gun behind her and Red ran to the wall perpendicular to them to grab for the other. She tackled him against it and in this high of adrenaline, Red fixed the gun at it's highest setting and aimed back at the window.

The recoil of the weapon slammed itself into his shoulder, a sharp pain stretching through his collar bone and arm. The beam, much bigger than the others he shot, crashed through the windows and continued traveling before fading off through the atmosphere, leaving the glass to fragment into chunks. Red then held the weapon vertically and bashed the butt of it into the soldier's back side. Her grip loosened exponentially, the blow knocking her near unconscious but in her pain and anger, she picked him up by the waist and heaved him to the side, where Red landed on the hard floor with his head the first to knock against the cold metal. She fell to her knees, and stumbled in her incapacitation. But Red, hardly registering the pain and disorientation shooting through his skull, struggled to his feet and sprinted towards the glass, leaping through the hole made from the rifle. He was scratched and cut countless times over the parts of his body not guarded by armor, his biceps and legs experiencing numerous prickling sensations as he landed against the grated walkway. He got up and scrambled towards a Voot cruiser, the pain throbbing in his brain finally registering alongside innumerable cuts.

Red entered through the opened windshield and dropped inside the main seat. The shield closed behind him and he began activating the spacecraft, pressing against different key controls and buttons. When he started the engine of the ship, the remaining soldiers in the room had poured outside, aiming their weapons. He was aloft when they began shooting at him, instinctively holding up his arm up as the beams hit against the windshield. He launched the operating shaft and the craft propelled at an alarming rate. Red belted the shaft to the left barely in time, missing the building by a few quarters of an inch, the velocity of the craft increasing exponentially. The adrenaline in his body forced him to increase the speed of the ship to expedite his escape.

He stayed this way for a while. Afterwards, though, he blinked and realized by this rate he wouldn't have any fuel left to escape with. He decelerated a few notches and managed at a normal pace. He looked around him and sighed when he couldn't see the ground or any of it's architecture. It released all his excited nerves and anxiety, exited his lungs and issued a cold, reassuring wave through his body.

Well so much for that…

The voice began. Red shook his head, partly in agreement with the expression and at disbelief of what had just occurred, his brain still reeling.

Red pressed a few keys and brought up a screen towards his right. They were no engaging enemies behind him. At this moment, he was finally conscious around the fact he was outside of the palace. Even more so, currently departing from the atmosphere from Irk. His blood ran cold and he became anxious, now that he realized his precarious situation. What was he going to face, now away from the security of his home and title, entering into the void of darkness? All the past times he ventured out to space, he was with the company of a crew and a guard force to keep him safe, along the fact that he occupied the Massive, which kept him far from the dangers of space. But now he was only in a Voot cruiser.

With his situation, he was now at the mercy of chance and the wiles of the universe.

His nerves began to course the feeling of fear and he felt shivers run through his spine. After a bit, he couldn't get his mind off of the inevitable. But he stopped breathing for a moment and held it in his lungs. Then after a few moments, he started up again in a slow, controlled rhythm. It took a while, but it helped calm his nerves. Blood left from his head and returned to all facilities, his breathing shaky but regathering his composure. Afterwards, when his body was only buzzing with nervousness, he took a deep breath and noted to himself that whatever danger he would have to encounter, he would have to bear through it. There was no other alternative.

Red shook his head, in attempt to rid his mind of this thoughts and looked at the main control board. His subconscious forced memories to surface, in expense of forgetting his current situation. His scratches were beginning to feel itchy and prickling. He realized he was bleeding a little and had nothing to stop it.

"I haven't ridden one of these since I was in training." Red remarked, partly to himself. He felt cramped in the small space, normally meant to fit smaller irkens like the invaders. It made him claustrophobic, his legs hiked up as his feet were placed at the only spaces that held no controls, his shoulders and back even more hunched than how he normally stood. It was uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do. He was a little glad, however. He'd never used a Spittle Runner before. Even though it was an improved design on the Voot Cruiser, both faster and more advanced, Red had never used one before and wasn't familiar with it's format. He'd been lucky to be able to get this, arguably.

The two remained silent, now in the aircraft and safe from immediate danger. A small nudge, like a gut feeling, warned him to take precautionary glances at the radar to ensure he wasn't being followed every now and then. Red then became conscious who it was he was looking out for and took a moment to ponder, slightly shocked once it finally hit him he was looking out for the guards that were appointed to protect him. It felt so surrealistic, being repudiated by those whom he'd once presumed to be his loyal supporters. The sudden change...it felt so willing.

"...They completely forgot who I was." He said in a distant voice, still trying to grasp the idea of their passive rebellion against him.

Yes. But it wasn't by choice. The Control Brains were responsible for that change. Did you see how some of the crew members still appeared flustered, as if they were having second thoughts over the idea? Andthat the soldiers seemed resolute and adamant?

"Yes...I did." Red responded.

That's because the soldiers were called to duty. They don't have much of themselves left, all of what's in their brain are the PAK's doing. The Control Brains needed to inhibit you so they disabled the teleporter panel. Then, they needed you here, so they gave the soldiers orders and they followed.

Red lowered his eyes, considering the information being said. It was hard to think that the everyday people he'd see or need for his own purposes, were mentally manufactured. Purposed so that they could serve the I.C.B as a full time profession, any vestiges or remnants of a previous life or personality being overwritten with coded protocols. He remembered his recent, more personal encounters with the guards stationed about the palace and then recalled Major Yue. The only one who's name he'd ever know.

Red wondered if he was like them. After a moment, he noted that it would be impossible if he wasn't. A wave of solemnity crossed over him, dulling his spirits and the word programmable came to mind.

"Why would we ever feel the need to do that to people? What do we accomplish, if we lose the very principle of our lives and soul? Do we deserve so badly as to take that away from others, for our own gain?" The Tallest asserted.

It's because our souls aren't dimensional, Red. They're not corporeal and they're not measurable. Why should something invisible be the guiding act between what's right and wrong, and dictate what my actions mean? Why should my desires be put under some thin line of rules put against us from something not even tangible? These things are asked by the Irken military and most especially their leaders. You were just as inquisitive not so long ago.

Red lowered his eyes to the main control board.

"You don't need to remind me." He said.

I do. It's the defining factor of your character and certainly one of the most prominent; Who we were, who we are and what we are to become are built off of our desires and our actions, whether past or present. Don't tell me I'm starting to hurt your feelings.

His brow furrowed. Red had gotten used to his mocking and his sneering attitude—for the most part that was the only thing he'd known about the voice. It wasn't to say that his remarks were building up against him emotionally, however at a time where it was just pursuant of one of the most transformative events in his life, it was most unbecoming. Red smirked slightly, irritation settling underneath his skin.

"You make it sound so honorable. As if I deserve every tittle and spit that comes out of your mouth." He paused and pressed a few buttons, ensuring nothing was being tracked on the radar. "Tell me, do you feel vindicated when you insult me and make snide remarks? That somehow your prior shit life justifies your actions and that hiding behind this veil of honor makes living more bearable for you?"

Red's antennae unintentionally twitched. He kept his eyes forward, but his mind circled around his hot head and the rising feeling of his aggravation. "I apologize that you can't hold everyone accountable for lacking in what you felt you deserve. Sadly, to blame everybody else for your invalidity and shortcomings isn't a granted courtesy."

The Tallest's hands were squeezing the velocity shafts. He stayed like this for a while before he removed his hands from them and checked the amount of fuel left in the propulsion system. He heard a chuckle.

So I did hurt your feelings. It's...Funny. You've done so much more and yet speech is overburdening you.

Red's eyes lowered in spite and he positioned them forward. Blood rushed to his head and his heart was audible in his antennae. It took him a while to remember to breathe again and he took slow, deep breathe through his nostrils.

They didn't speak for a while after that. Red had to veer out of the way of some incoming debris floating around in space. He checked the radar a few times to see there was nobody following them. He didn't understand that. He was the Tallest and he just committed one of the worst acts of treachery known to Irk and yet there was no engaging pursuit. Not even a tracking device, which the Voot Cruiser would've picked up, to see where he was headed to. It didn't make sense and it worried him at the same time. In the absence of following him, what were they planning instead? Were they in the process of externally shutting down his ship? He'd recalled his ability of disabling Zim's equipment in such a manner. How much easier could it be for them? But after a while, his thoughts revolving around the idea died down and he felt it a little improbable, but not entirely unthinkable.

Red checked the fuel for the propulsion system once more and this time realize how low it was. He silently cursed and realized that they would have to go to Conventia anyways, either to refill or retrieve another vehicle. Red looked around and imagined they'd have to get a Spittle runner, either way, if they wanted to escape successfully. He sighed to himself.

It wasn't until a few moments later he remembered Purple. His heart twinged and any traces of his past anger completely vanished. He remembered they left at unresolved relations, having an argument and only for Red to deny Purple and his loyalty. Recalling that, Red silently cursed and guilt bloomed in his chest. Why did he do that? After a few moments of recalling it, blood filled to his head and all he could think about was his remorse. Red almost felt embarrassed for doing that to him. He wanted desperately to turn back in the moment and head back towards the docks, and proclaim as loudly as ever that he was sorry. If it were anything else, Red would've. But he tightened his hands against the controls and his heart ached, his recent memories about everything Irk was and still is holding his resolve against his emotions. His teeth gritted painfully.

I can't go back...I can't...

What would he think of it? Did the event of Red's desertion even reach him yet? He didn't know what to imagine of it; Purple could be yelling right now, wondering why he would be so stupid as to do what he'd done. He could imagine him slamming his fists on a table or counter, raging at the incompetence of the guards who failed to stop him. Or he could see him shocked by the news, to find out his only brother had deserted him. Mouth ajar, he would sit down against the chair, dismiss the attendant who told him the news and stay silent in his room. Pondering. Worrying. He'd probably even go to Red's quarters, to ensure it wasn't a false statement. Red could imagine him chuckling at it at first, thinking it as some impractical joke from Red himself and remain dubious. Then with persistence from everybody else, he'd soon find out it's validity.

Red then imagined him sorrowful. He imagined him shaking, trying to keep a steady composure but slowly breaking down. To think he would be so torn over the news he'd become emotionally unstable... the idea hurt and Red's heart suffered a pang of lament. He tried to console himself with another idea that it was improbable for him to cry, that Purple didn't suffer the same trials and problems Red did with his PAK and overall stability. But the Tallest recalled the time in their life when they became the Tallests of Irk. Having two at the same time hardly ever occurred and so for them both to be entitled was shocking. He recalled Purple being happy that they could still spend time together, being that they only had each other.

Purple started calling him brother, then. It was always nonchalant and in passing, as if it was always something he considered him. It would be replaced with friend, as well, but it still meant the same to him.

Red's throat constricted and his sorrow tried to issue itself out. He forged it down and tried his best not to let it exhibit through him. He realized that he would never be able to see Purple or Roxi ever again. Her unwarranted kindness to him. Her loyalty and her willful selflessness and complaisance. Red wished he could've met her while she was still an Irken, if it were true what the voice had said. He wished for that very much.

He'd never hear Purple's stupid, witty remarks. Never bear through his annoyingly contagious emotions or just be by his side. It sounded strange to admit he took them for granted, as if they were just items of convenience. He was going to miss Purple's annoying, crooked grin, that he would wear when he was mocking or trying to be reassuring. Never hear his strange, high-toned voice and the even higher sound it made when he yelled or complained. His presence or calm-collected composure he always had about him, even when Red was a nervous wreck he was there to somehow calm his overacting nerves.

He was going to disappear. And so was she. Forever. The Purple Red had come to name his brother would fade into nothingness and assume the form of the leader Irk needed of him. The Roxi Red knew would probably be deactivated, for being associated with The Deserted Tallest. New ones would be built off the vestiges of another life. Something Irk had learned and perfected over generations and generations. Red then considered the cruelty of that reality. Of his reality. That Purple was set up to die like the rest he, initially, felt so obligated to protect; His kindness rewarding him nothing. Like cattle set up for the slaughter…

Was it cruel that Red didn't do anything to stop it? Was it cruel he thought only of himself when the time came and he left the person he claimed to be his brother to die alone? And even Roxi. To die alone and confused? His heart wrenched terribly and he had turn to his head and close his eyes, the transition of the roseate skies into the ever growing darker atmosphere giving reminder of his desolation.

Did I set him to die, knowing I could've stopped it?

How? What could you have done? Purple's not like you, remember? He can't be himself. Not like how you can.

But I could've done something. Anything.

And what would that have done? He already knows everything, Red. It was only you who was kept in the shadows and the darkness. It was only you who was defective.

But I could've brought him with me. I could've convinced him, somehow.

No, Red. You couldn't have. If you brought him, it would've most likely have been against his will. And if you managed to escape, the pressure of chasing you would only increase. And if by some miracle you convinced him, with morality and virtue to come with you, the I.C.B would overwrite Purple. They only did it slowly at first so that you wouldn't notice. But if the time came, they'd call him to duty just like they did with the guards and erase all of the material that would obstruct them from getting what they want. What they need.

But I could've tried anything. Anything.

...No...doing anything would've gotten you killed, Red. That's the thing about being defective. You can try and get what you want. You can try to reason with people, and tell them you're not faulty, or lacking. You can try to do everything there is in your power to convince people otherwise your worthy. But with eyes sewn shut and ears firmly closed, all of your efforts will waste into nothingness, much in comparison to the vision they see of you.

Your name was defect at birth and it will stay defect until death. Your abilities will be renounced and so will your worth. They've done it already so many times. Your life epitomizes the things that make you real, Red, that nobody else's could ever be. But it will be denied because of that. Because you weren't as empty and miserable as they were; They will accuse you of the same things they are fraught with.

You're an obstacle, Red. Just like Almighty Tallest Sono, Invader Zim, and everybody else who was defective. Because you live by a vitality and life that the Control Brains can't own. And because of that, they will try their damnedest to erase everything about you, because you're a living reminder of a defect in their control, in their empire and in them.

Rnote: So I apologize for the fact that the three chapters you've just sloshed through was centered around the one character I think everybody hates most. But understand one thing; I've been wanting to get to this point in this story for almost two years now. So you can't entirely hold it against that my usual writing antics got the hold of me. Well, you can, but still. Notwithstanding, I also apologize for the fact that the relationship between Red and Purple might feel a little romanticized. I've been wanting to hint to a sense of camaraderie, more correctly a brotherhood, because I just feel that sort of relationship dynamic is the most applicable in their case. And also I just like the idea of them considering each other family. So again, not trying to tie in some lethargic paramour bullshit, but close-knit familial stuff. If you feel lost about everything you've just read, I'm sorry. You're just going to have to wait until I update...hopefully really soon, to clear up any information. So see ya later. (Let me know if this story is mawkish in any way. Criticism is the best compliment.)