Phew! I'm not even going to look at how long it's been since I last updated . . . Sorry fellas, if anyone is still reading. I was kidnapped by mutants and forced to write happy wholesome things. *shudders* It was awful.

Bleak meter: Some lighter moments, but leans pretty heavily bleak.

Timeline: Starts before Season 9/Hunted, while the Baron is still leading; ends sometime after Season 9.

JustRandom: Thanks for the review!
Ehhhhh, more likely she's just by nature a good character and that's why I find her hard to write. XP
Yep. For every oneshot you ghostwrite for me, I write you a oneshot. The peak of efficiency. :B
You're too kind. ^_^''
I mean, sure, she likes him! Quite a lot. He's so open and uncomplicated that she finds him easy to be around, less stressful than the average Hunter; and she likes his sense of humor. But she's not in love. *ahem.*
"Jet Jack when someone." *snorts* Accurate.
Jackie's got a reputation. And Benji just doesn't have a given Hunter name! That's his real one. All those other ones are given names, like Faith was Heavy Metal.
Ah man, sorry. ^_^'' It's M-rated, the gloves are off a little. I still usually still play it coy, just say that somebody swore without using the explicit word, just from force of habit. But because it's Jet Jack and she's vulgar and disinhibited, I pushed the overall chapter tone into the gutter along with her.
Oh glob. Now I'm not okay either. XD
Jet Jack lives torn between two violently warring impulses. One is a blinding desperation to be loved. Slightly more powerful is a blinding fear that nobody could ever love her. Everything else that she is stems from those two.
Yes, she's second in command. And yes, she tries to run from the thought but it does haunt her to realize that she's constantly letting Faith down. And yeah, if you asked Jet Jack she would say she lives like this because it's fun and she doesn't want to change. In reality though, on some subconscious level she expects everyone to hate her for no reason, so she's trying to give them a reason so she can at least feel like she has some control over it.
Faith and Charity are from the same batch! Roughly the same age. There was a Pilgrim-type naming theme going on for that one. Daddy No-Legs was from that one as well.
I like your version of that meme. XD
It's slightly canon! She was the one telling the "Dangerbuffs" the story of Firstbourne and the Dragonbone Blade, and everyone seemed pretty into it.
Oh boy, I couldn't go into the whole Verty saga, that thing was running for yearrrrs. XD
Awh. Don't we all tho, on some level?
Same as prior. She's dying to hear that someone likes her despite her being annoying, and she pounces on Faith's silence as a sign she at least doesn't mind. And yeah, she has a ton of respect for Faith as a leader (doesn't really show, does it?), but she's also convinced herself that they must be friends too. Because if Faith was just a leader to her, she wouldn't put up with Jet Jack's smart mouth, would she? She must be putting up with it because she doesn't mind friendly teasing. Clearly.
Awh, no! It's actually the opposite, it was a line from a song by OneRepublic called "Everybody Loves Me." It was meant to be the singer bragging how everything feels effortless. But I did like that it could be taken either way. ^_^''
Well, good luck achieving Step 3, I'm not seeing that one happening. :P
YEP. }:]

To say that Chew Toy's judgment was poor may have been an understatement. He was the one who blindly went along with the very craziest of Jet Jack's ideas; he was the one who stuffed things into his mouth that most people would hesitate to try if they were starving.

Unfortunately, he had just enough insight to see his deficits. He knew he wasn't the shiniest hubcap on the Dieselnaught, as he put it himself, and he usually avoided putting himself in any situations where he'd have to make his own decisions or face his own consequences.

Still more unfortunately, he was designated the responsibility of protecting the entirety of Dead's End.

On paper (hypothetical paper, in this realm of the illiterate), it made sense. Chew Toy was already town crier, a job that suited him well because he was just about the only one who didn't mind trudging in circles ringing his cowbell and hollering trivial pieces of news for a living. Since he was already wandering the village and keeping everyone informed, it made sense that he would be a good candidate to see impending threats and warn everyone about them.

The catch, of course, was that Chew Toy could barely tell a threat from a dead lizard.

He wanted so much to do well. When they told him his new job and showed him the giant bell at the top of the lookout tower, and gave him the stick he was supposed to use to hit the bell, for a second it felt awesome. He felt like somebody.

But five minutes later he was all anxiety. They had told him to ring the bell if there was an emergency, but nobody had told him what constituted an emergency. He had a bad feeling that this was one of the myriad things that everybody found obvious except for him. He saw a pair of Hunters starting a fistfight off to the east side of town, and he got tense, asking himself if he needed to go and ring the emergency bell. He saw a desert adder slipping in under the gates, and he started imagining what would happen if it found someone unawares and bit them, and his first impulse was to go ring the emergency bell. Hell, some of the nails holding together the throne room were starting to look weather-beaten, and he ended up standing there for a straight five minutes visualizing how horrible it would be if the nails broke loose and the rafter gave way and it was just as there was a village gathering and the roof fell in and killed everyone and it would be all his fault—

And then of course, when there actually were emergencies—when a dust storm was billowing on the horizon, when a nomad tribe was battering at the western gates—somehow then his addled dragon-battered brain would always work its way around to deciding, "but this is normal, isn't it?" and he would ring the bell too late, or not at all.

But he learned. Slowly, painfully. By dint of many lashings. For a while he spent every moment of every day in agony, thrown into doubt and confusion every time he saw a pebble out of place. But slowly he developed something like a sense of judgment. He began building a list of what wasn't an emergency and what was. Lord knew how much of his soul he lost in the process, but he grew to fill the role.

When Faith took over, a lot of jobs got shuffled. Chew Toy was surprised to hear that he was still going to be the town crier, and the lookout.

"Why not?" said Faith, when he hinted at his surprise. "Did you not want to?"

"I did," said Chew Toy. "But are you sure you don't want someone who would . . . do better?"

Faith shrugged.

"You do a good job. I don't see any reason to replace you."

Chew Toy managed to stammer something like a thank you, his heart clenching. He'd been given to believe his work was acceptable before. He'd never been told he did well.

"I'll do my best," he mumbled, as he polished the alarm bell that night. "I'll do the best job."

It was a lukewarm morning, full of the usual drowsy morning buzz. Faith was making her rounds when she heard something that sounded off. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what suddenly had her so uneasy. All she could hear was the distant hammering of the metalworkers, and the clatter of Chew Toy's usual cowbell. After a moment she realized what was off was the rhythm; it wasn't the same as Chew Toy's usual clanging as he made his rounds.

Braced for trouble, she headed over to investigate. Luckily the trouble wasn't as bad as she'd anticipated; it was only that Jet Jack had swiped Chew Toy's cowbell and was perched on the edge of a roof baiting him with it. Chew Toy, cursing roundly, was making futile swipes and trying to jump high enough to reach, always just a few inches short.

"Will you knock that off, Jet Jack?" Faith called up tiredly. "You're obstructing the duties of the town crier."

"Ya sure? He seems to be crying enough to me," sang Jet Jack, wiggling the cowbell just past Chew Toy's fingertips. Chew Toy swiped again, then turned and looked to Faith helplessly.

"I wash my hands of you two," said Faith. "I have work to do. Chew Toy, I'm not always going to be around to stick up for you. Figure it out yourself."

Chew Toy's face scrunched in thought for a moment. Then he sighed, straightened his shirt, and turned to continue his usual track through the village, cowbell-free.

"Heyyyyyy," said Jet Jack, irritated at her game being forcibly ended. She scrambled to her feet and began to trot along the rooftops, keeping pace with Chew Toy and still jingling his cowbell tauntingly. Chew Toy kept his head down and ignored her. If nothing else, at least the usual ringing was still accompanying him through town, even if he wasn't doing it himself.

"There you go," said Faith. "If you don't have it back by nightfall let me know and then I'll intervene."

Chew Toy nodded stolidly. He didn't look thrilled with the situation, but there was still a tiny hint of satisfaction in his eyes. He always liked to show he was good for something, especially to the higher ranks. (Jet Jack didn't count.)

Faith's course matched his for a little while. They were just passing by the shed off the granary where the village's largest water tank was kept. From inside there came the sound of clattering and metal grinding—Daddy No-Legs and Muzzle were working on something in there. Faith was just wondering if she should go check their progress when there was a muffled cry of "dammit!" and a burst of orange light from inside the shed. Then smoke began to puff out through the cracks around the door.

"Oh come on!" Jet Jack swung down from the roof, tossing aside the cowbell.

"Hey!" yelped Chew Toy as it bounced off his helmet. He dove to snatch it, then swung around. "I'll go ring the emergency bell!"

"Never mind, Chew Toy, there's three of us already here," called Faith. "We can handle it. Come on and help!"

Chew Toy wavered, looking stricken—ringing for fire was a deep-rooted instinct by now—but eventually nodded and dashed after Faith and Jet Jack towards the shed.

It was heartily on fire in there. Muzzle and No-Legs were tearing in circles trying to put it out. Faith, Chew Toy, and Jet Jack grabbed buckets and started helping. Luckily they were literally right next to a giant tank of water, the job was easy.

Three or four minutes later, there was nothing left but a wet floor and a charred mess of wood and metal that used to be No-Legs' invention. Faith spat cinders, tossed aside the damp blanket she'd been beating at things, and fixed No-Legs with an exhausted look.

"That's the third time this week."

"I know Chief, I know . . . " No-Legs grinned awkwardly. "But I assure you, this time it wasn't my fault! The fire was, ah, completely unrelated."

Muzzle wiped soot from his face and gabbled something, laughing. Faith could only pick up a few words, but from that and Muzzle's tone, she could guess that he was ratting No-Legs out. The way No-Legs glared only confirmed it.

"No-Legs," she sighed. "The granary is right next door, and we can't afford to burn it down. Do you have to work on your invention in here?"

"Yes," said No-Legs, a touch sulky. He was always quick to get defensive about his inventions. "Don't worry Chief. I promise it won't happen again."

"That's what you said the last four times there was a fire!" said Jet Jack, grinning. No-Legs glared at her now, but snuck an uneasy glance to Faith. She sighed again.

"What are you even trying to build here, No-Legs? I can't let you keep tinkering with fire hazards without knowing if it's going to be worthwhile."

"It'll be worthwhile!" No-Legs realized how much he'd raised his voice and subsided. "It'll be useful, Chief, trust me."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Faith tartly. "Come on, No-Legs. If you want to keep this project, no more games. What are you building?"

No-Legs mumbled, suddenly very busy picking up scattered buckets from the floor. Muzzle giggled and elbowed him, urging him to speak up. Getting no response, he nudged harder, nearly pushing No-Legs clean off his mech.

"All right, all right! Get your elbows off of me, you little pest," snapped No-Legs. He glanced up at Faith's stern expression, then sighed and glared down at the bucket he was holding.

"When it works," he said crisply, "it'll be a machine to help us put out fires."

Faith sank her face into one hand, well and truly finished, while Jet Jack and Chew Toy roared with laughter. Muzzle was snickering up his sleeve as well, even though he was just as involved in the project as No-Legs and was probably responsible for at least half of the fires himself.

"Oh, sure, go on and laugh." No-Legs chucked a bucket into the water tank. "Just wait till it's one of your houses on fire, you'll be sorry then!"

"Why would my house be on fire?" said Jet Jack. "Because you parked your machine next to it?"

No-Legs groaned, defeated, while the others went into peals of laughter again. Faith caught his eye and gave him an apologetic smile. She wouldn't have pried it out of him in front of everyone if she'd known.

"Well, anyway, now you know, Chief." No-Legs at least tried his best not to sound miffed. "Is that a useful enough project to keep?"

"It's a good idea, anyway," said Faith. "If you can get it to work, we could use that. I'll let you keep trying for now. Just . . . be careful, all right? And keep some full buckets handy."

"Sure thing, Chief," said No-Legs glumly. He started filling up buckets, while Faith sighed one final time and turned to continue her rounds. She'd hoped Jet Jack and Chew Toy would tag along again, but they stayed behind to torment poor No-Legs instead.

"Here's an idea," said Jet Jack. "What if you tried to build a machine to start fires, and then it would put them out instead!"

"Go singe off your eyebrows, Jet Jack," growled No-Legs over the others' laughter. Muzzle said something that sounded sassy. He'd underestimated No-Legs' ire; from the sound of it he got a bucket of water emptied over his head. Jet Jack and Chew Toy were really having a good time today.

"No wasting water, No-Legs!" Faith turned back to shout. She groaned at the rising scuffle behind her, but decided not to intervene. She had a lot of other things to look after today, she couldn't play at being a nursery worker breaking up fights between these overgrown whelps. Besides, No-Legs and Muzzle had been inseparable for years. They could probably be trusted not to kill each other outright. If someone ended up in the water tank, she didn't want to know.

Unfortunately No-Legs' invention kept right on catching fire, and developed a habit of sometimes exploding as well. Muzzle and No-Legs kept buckets handy, as promised, but at times the fire still got away from them a little.

"They're going to burn the village to the ground with us in it," muttered Faith, listening to the clanging and ratcheting as she passed by the water-tank building. Chew Toy cocked his head anxiously and squinted at the building long and hard, as if expecting it to burst into flames any moment.

After that he took it upon himself to patrol the area extra-carefully. While he had mostly learned the hard way which events merited an alarm bell, the one thing he'd never had trouble understanding was that fire was bad.

As such, he dutifully sounded the alarm every time he saw smoke wisping out of the water-tank building, or any time he heard a bang that seemed a little too loud to be legitimate. It was very effective at summoning nearby Hunters to assist—much to No-Legs' irritation.

"We really don't need any help!" he kept shouting at the small crowds who always manifested brandishing buckets. "Everyone disperse! Shoo!"

Muzzle, in the background, sighed long-sufferingly and dumped another bucket over the flames.

With all the attention Chew Toy kept raising, the news about No-Legs' spectacular failure of an invention spread pretty fast. It soon got to the point that he couldn't walk through the village five minutes without hearing about it. He got a lot of jeering questions about where he kept finding so much tinder, or why he didn't invite everyone over to toast some lizards. Arkade in particular gave him a miserable time.

"There's gratitude for you!" he ranted to Muzzle, as they started on the framework for the ten dozenth time. "We spend days on end trying to improve their miserable little lives, and all they give in return is mockery."

Muzzle chirruped absently, having heard this rant too many times to pay any attention anymore.

"Now, if I saw someone else working on a project like this, I would at least offer to help, instead of—" No-Legs swore as someone started banging on the door.

"Fire brigade! Open up!"

"May the Pit swallow you all whole!" snapped No-Legs, opening the door and chivvying back the frontrunners with a broom. "The devil do you all want? Nothing is on fire!"

"No fire?" called somebody from the midst of the crowd. "Then what's the emergency bell ringing for?"

There was some confusion. After a moment everyone fell quiet and listened to the distant clamor of the bell, still clanging. From over it came Chew Toy's hoarse, distant crow, "Sparrows! Sparrows in the grain fields!"

"Dammit!" yelped one of the Hunters, and most of the crowd darted for the village gates to help chase the birds off.

"Honestly," muttered No-Legs, hands on his hips. One of the remaining villagers paused to give him a saucy grin.

"What do you expect? It's like the emergency bell never rings for anything else anymore."

"Hmmmm." No-Legs scowled. He was still frowning as he returned to work, not deigning to go flap about after birds.

"You mind if I . . . " began Muzzle, already edging for the door. Flapping about after birds was his idea of entertainment.

"Sure, get lost," grunted No-Legs, barely looking up. His expression was still thoughtful, right up until the next time his device caught fire.

That evening, Chew Toy was preparing for his bedtime rounds of the village. Humming to himself, he carefully polished the emergency bell and took up his little cowbell, the clapper muffled for the gentler, sleepier work of the evening.

He had only patrolled a couple of streets before he crossed paths with Muzzle and No-Legs, the latter sooty and the former dusty and peppered with stray feathers.

"Evenin' you two," said Chew Toy amiably. He chuckled a little. "Did the sparrows win?"

Muzzle scoffed and made some overly showy swiping and snatching motions to reenact his victories, until they were both laughing. No-Legs stood aside looking sour, until Chew Toy noticed and glanced up to him a touch awkwardly.

"Evenin' to you too," he said.

"Evening," said No-Legs coolly.

"Aw, hey." Chew Toy swung into step as No-Legs resumed walking, following the same course as Chew Toy's rounds. "No hard feelings, right?"

"About what?" said No-Legs.

"About the emergency bell," said Chew Toy. "You know I have to ring it for fire. Every time. That's just the rules."

No-Legs said nothing for a long moment, but eventually he sighed.

"I suppose not," he said, finally giving Chew Toy a grudging look. "You're right. I can't blame you for doing your job."

"Ah, there." Chew Toy relaxed, grinning. "That's better! Thanks for understandin'."

"I do feel compelled to respect anyone who takes their job so seriously," grumbled No-Legs. "And at such great personal cost, too."

"Personal cost?" Chew Toy laughed. "I just ring the big dumb bell."

"Yes, but the sacrifice involved!" said No-Legs. "Surely it must weigh heavily on you sometimes."

"Sacrifice?" Chew Toy stopped, blinking. From No-Legs' other flank Muzzle also tilted his head, confused at this line of conversation.

"You really don't know?" said No-Legs. He looked away. "Oh. Then, ah, forget I said anything."

"Wait, what?" said Chew Toy. He darted to catch up. "Wait just a minute! Don't just leave it like that. What sacrifice? What are they gonna do to me?!"

"Oh, I don't think they'll actually do anything to you," said No-Legs. "They're just a little annoyed."

"Annoyed?!" There were several forbidden curses which troubled Chew Toy less than that particular word.

"Well, you know." No-Legs looked unhappy to have this pried out of him. "Getting summoned every day, at all hours, about fires that they aren't even needed for—they get a little tired of that. Some of them talk."

"They do?!" Chew Toy's face clouded. He digested this news for a moment, then shook his head helplessly. "But what else can I do? I have to ring for fire. I don't have a choice."

"Some of them seem to think otherwise," said No-Legs, shrugging. "They think you're just ringing every time because you're too . . . ah, because you just don't have good enough judgment to tell an emergency fire from a tame one. But they just don't understand, I suppose. Rules are rules."

"Yeah," said Chew Toy, without much conviction. "Yeah, I mean . . . I have to ring for fire. I have to."

"Of course," said No-Legs. "Again. Your self-sacrifice is truly noble."

Chew Toy flinched. He didn't say anything until their paths split, and then his goodbye was little more than a distracted mumble. As he ambled off, head still bent in thought and cowbell ringing half-heartedly, Muzzle smacked his wrist against one leg of No-Legs' mech and shook his head up at him reproachfully. No-Legs gave him a lopsided grin.

"What?"

It had been a long time since the alarm bell had given Chew Toy this much anxiety. He watched the water-tank building now not with suspicion, but with trepidation. Instead of watching keenly for a fire, every second he prayed there wouldn't be one.

Naturally his prayers went unanswered; this was the realm of the forsaken, after all. Not even halfway through the day and a fire broke out in the water-tank building again.

Chew Toy stood there, his insides clenching. He watched smoke wisping through the doorframe as No-Legs and Muzzle crashed around inside, trying to subdue the flames. Everything inside him was screaming to go ring the emergency bell. This was fire. Fire meant emergency bell. That was protocol. By standing here doing nothing he was failing to do his job.

But what if he was misunderstanding the parameters of his job? What if he was creating a disturbance and making everyone angry when really the rules this time were supposed to be bent? All he wanted was to do the right thing, to be told he was doing good, but what in the world did that entail? . . .

In the end his anxiety won out, and he ran for the bell. The fire was mostly out by the time he rang it, but nobody seemed to notice he'd been late. At least he hoped not.

The next time there was a fire, he waited again. He'd waited the last time, hadn't he? He'd waited this long. It was all right. Nothing bad would happen if he just waited a little.

He did end up ringing the emergency bell again, but this time he waited even longer.

The third time he waited, still quaking where he stood, and he waited till the crashing stopped and Muzzle threw open the door, coughing, to air out the building. The fire was out. The bell hadn't rung.

Chew Toy nearly pitched forward where he stood, a strange queasy shame overwhelming him. Muzzle saw him from the doorway and tilted his head in silence, but then dropped his gaze and turned to go back inside.

The days went on like that. Every now and then Chew Toy would still panic and ring the emergency bell, but more and more often he would simply stand, watching the smoke curling from the water-tank building and praying Muzzle and No-Legs had it under control.

With time, as they kept successfully quenching the flames unaided, he grew less paranoid about the fire. In its place came a fresh paranoia that somebody else would see the fire and see him doing nothing about it. He had strange parallel lines of reasoning: he simultaneously thought everyone was mad at him for not bending the rules, while also being afraid that others would be mad at him for bending the rules.

This was as bad as his early days being lookout. He no longer knew what was right, what was wrong, yet he couldn't turn to anyone for help because he was supposed to know these things, right? He couldn't let on that he was this bad at his job. That he was this stupid.

It was maybe a testament to how much things had changed, he thought of just asking Faith what he should do. Even he wouldn't have been dumb enough to ask that of the Baron. But in the end he couldn't bring himself to ask Faith, either; she was the only one who seemed to believe in him. She had said he did a good job, how could he turn around and disprove that by being ignorant of something this basic?

He took to avoiding the water-tank building instead of guarding it. If he could say he hadn't been around to see the fire, he at least had some shreds of an excuse.

Then, of course, came the day the fire got away.

Someone else noticed it before Chew Toy did, one of the weavers maybe. They ran around shouting and trying to gather firefighters by word of mouth, and by the time a half-decent brigade had assembled, the water-tank shed had been reduced to embers and the adjacent granary roof was heartily on fire too.

As panic mounted, the opposite problem developed—too many Hunters packing in around the site, making it harder and harder to bring in buckets. Smoke and dust billowed through the streets, shouts and coughing and cries of panic or pain rang out on every side, a bedlam of agitated voices.

Chew Toy thrashed at the periphery, his ears roaring. Fate had finally caught up with him, and this was the price. He hadn't been this terrified since he was in the Pit baiting dragons; the old sickly-sweet dissociation was starting to lap at the corners of his mind again. He couldn't organize himself enough to even join in and help.

He saw Faith pushing her way through the crowd, her face smudged with soot and sweat, trying with hoarse bellows to reorganize a bucket brigade. She ran across No-Legs, unfortunately. Through an impersonal haze Chew Toy watched as she took the legless Hunter by the shirt and screamed; her voice cracking as she swore, her hands shaking. No-Legs' hands were up around her wrists, right on the verge of throwing her off, his eyes burning with the hottest type of rage, the one driven by shame. If he had succumbed and pushed her back in this moment, she likely would have killed him.

Faith finally threw No-Legs back and spun away from him, turning back to work. Her eyes fixed on Chew Toy, watching the scene blankly. He shrank back, waiting for her fury to come down on him in turn. She knew. She knew this was his fault, for not ringing the bell.

For a second her face twisted, and he waited for her to scream; then she shook her head hard and turned away in disgust.

"Stupid," she spat over her shoulder. The next moment she was swallowed back into the crowd, as half the granary roof collapsed in a fountain of sparks.

Chew Toy continued to stand mutely. The dissociation had suddenly receded, and the world seemed entirely real again. Very real, and very heavy; very dark and very close.

Prompt was "Alarm."