Patty & San Chapter 3: Calm
Syx marched down the mostly deserted hallways, silently fuming. Ever since Acquisitions had been shuttered, he'd been just north of useless. He wasn't a good enough mechanic to help with the Shop's big projects outside of tightening nuts and fetching tools. He even briefly considered heading over to Home Ec to haul fabric!
Satan dammit, Setty!
Ever since that day he'd been conflicted. He knew why she did it. She wanted to impress Red. But also… why? Why did she want to impress him so badly? Did she want to pull a rabbit out of her hat to show him she was, what, good at her job? Everyone already knew she was a superlative thief. Did she want to show that she was ready for bigger jobs? Show that she was…
'As good as me?' He thought to himself, sourly. 'In our line of work an unauthorized action is worse than insubordination. I've told her as much, but no, she just had to go and brick everything for everyone!'
He stopped himself. He understood, alright. The want, the need, to impress him. To hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, to feel that big heavy hand patting one's back or shoulder. Part of Syx felt sick for feeling such doggish enthusiasm for approval, and from a Faller no less! But an even bigger part of him craved it, that feeling of being part of something bigger, being someone valued and respected. Before he was a useful tool, a cat-herder par excellence with a bevy of useful skills, but now he was… what, exactly? Important, certainly. Listened to, definitely.
Respected.
He was respected. Respected by the other kids, by some of the Staff, maybe, but most importantly Red respected him. Sought his consultation. Trusted him with coordinating the assets. Yeah, he understood why Setty did what she did. She wanted that, too. Craved it. But where he earned that respect with consistency, reliability, and obedience, Setty sought to prove herself with grand gestures and gutsy performances, with high-risk high-reward jobs. Syx conceded that if she'd pulled such a stunt literally anywhere else, it just might have worked. Sure, Red would have still grumbled at her insubordination and recklessness, but her performance and initiative in addition to the depth of her haul would have ameliorated this.
And now, here he was, roaming the halls, looking for something to do, feeling as out of place as a sausage in clambake. Things had been… tense between him and Setty since then. Before, it had been simmering just below the surface, some strange sort of friction in their interactions. At times, it felt as though she considered him… what, exactly? A rival? For what? Status in the organization? They already were the Top Kids at the 'Donna, even before Red showed up, and now they were essentially his Capos, with only Kabby holding a position of some kind of authority over them under… Red.
Red. Ever since that day he'd become cagey, withdrawn, his usual demeanor muted and clipped somehow. Why? He didn't get spanked that badly. From the sound of things, he still would have won. It was almost like just getting hit had in some way wounded his pride. His ego? No, it was worse than that. Syx could, somehow, sense a familiar pall in Red's demeanor, it was one Syx himself was intimately familiar with: Red doubted himself. Doubted his abilities. His worth. If just getting roughed up a bit did that, how would he handle actual set-backs, defeat and proper humiliation?
Syx shunned this line of thought, dreading the implications of signing on with such a delicate person. His life could hardly get worse than it was before Red, after all. No, he needed to be strong, to be the Golden Boy and hold things together, like he'd always done. But that still left Setty and the friction between them. These past few days she'd been brusque, evasive, and cold. Not just towards him, but everyone, though it was noticeably sharper with him. He was the Golden Boy, after all, still in Red's good graces and she was the problem child now. It made sense she'd resent him to some extent. It still hurt a little, though. They'd always been friends, after all. She was one of the few people he could actually talk to, even before getting his annoyingly filterless Stand.
'You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'
He still cringed at the memory. He wasn't used to being able to just say things, his thoughts always filtered through his signs and clicks. Speaking through [D5H] was like holding onto a bunch of cans, with just a single slip being the difference between holding it together and having a cascade of thoughts tumbling out of his 'mouth'.
It was true, though.
He'd never even imagined anything as beautiful as her before. Her shape in his mind set off an avalanche of thoughts and feelings he'd never known he had. Old, unused circuits suddenly blazing to life, putting a face (and body) to her melodic voice, her crude, snarky sense of humor, her hidden vulnerability, like a puzzle piece falling into place and completing the picture. To him, she was the most beautiful thing in all of Hell.
And now she resented him, spurned him, and it hurt, hurt like a cold corkscrew in his guts. Why did she hate him now? Was it because he was the Golden Boy? He'd always been the Golden Boy! So what changed?
'Red," said a voice in his head, some deeper part of himself rising to the surface. 'It's Red. She's jealous of your relationship with him. Not envious. Jealous. She was the first, yeah? She sees him as hers. She wants to impress him, to be closer to him. She… she loves him?'
Syx halted, standing in the middle of the sparsely populated hallway, the smattering of kids stopping what they were doing and looking at him. Something on his face must have clued them to the tumult within because they scurried off as quickly and silently as possible.
Setty… loved Red Nightmare? Setty, who loathed anyone touching her. Well, not anyone. Syx could always touch her without her recoiling in disgust. But Red, a Staffer, a Sinner, a filthy Faller, could freely pat her back, cast an enormous arm over her shoulder, or muss up her pristine hair. And she adored it. Every time, a fawning, devoted smile would light up her perfect face, her posture becoming open and relaxed. Not relaxed. Receptive. Beckoning, even.
Something strange bubbled up from within him. Some unfamiliar, bitter feeling churning his guts as he grit his teeth, fists clenching. How could she love him? That invader? That creature? That Human! How? Why?! Syx spun about on his hooves, heading for Home Ec. He had to find her, to talk to her, to confront her about this revelation. There was no way. There was no fucking way!
"Get back here!" A familiar voice called out. "Patty! San! You're just making this worse for yourselves!"
He turned to see the shape of Setty, encased in her [Titanium], streak into his sphere of perception. What was she doing?! If any of the Staff saw her hovering about, the whole operation could be ruined!
"Setty!" He called out, [D5H] materializing behind him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!?"
"Syx?" She turned to him, streaking over and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Come with me! It's bad! It's really bad!"
He swatted her hands off of him, still riled up. "Turn off your Stand, you idiot! What if someone saw you floating around?! Boss Lady–"
"Shut up and listen!" Setty cried, pointing down the hall. "They have the Arrow!"
Syx recoiled, his prior line of thought derailing like a treasure train in Greed. "What?! Who?!"
"Patty and San!" Setty growled. "Stupid little bitch stole the Arrow from Red a few days ago! Now Patty has a Stand and Lucifer knows who else! We gotta catch 'em!"
"Okay!" Syx said, before remembering the situation. "But on foot. Turn off [Titanium]."
"But–" She began to say before realizing she was hovering a foot off the ground. "Shit. Right, sorry."
She deactivated her Stand and set back down on the ground, looking distinctly embarrassed. Syx exhaled and held out his hands. "Okay, good. Now, from the top. Patty and San have the Arrow? How?"
"I'll explain on the way," she said, turning down the hallway and impatiently pulling him after her. "C'mon, they went this way!"
He set off after her as she ran down the hall. "They did? I didn't sense anyone."
"It's Patty," said Setty. "Her Stand can apparently turn shit into freaky-looking cartoons. From the look of things they can move along any surface, walls, floors, ceiling, the whole nine."
Syx looked around, seeing the flat, featureless surfaces around him. His gravity sense could see borders and textures just fine, but things like screens and photos were smooth and featureless to him, anything on them beyond his ability to perceive. "Seeing them will be on you, then."
"Gotcha," said Setty, turning the corner, looking around. "You'll be able to see them when they pop back out, though, right? They in any of these rooms?"
He peered into the rooms, lockers, everything within his 6-meter radius. "No. Nothing."
"Fuck!" Setty growled, skidding to a stop. "Those little shits! Where'd they go?!"
Syx looked her over, her posture and expression suggested anger, but there was a distinct tone of desperation in her voice. "Setty? Now would be a good time for a run-down. Patty has a Stand now, yeah? How'd she get it? How'd they get the Arrow?"
"San stole it!" Setty said. "Remember when we gave her [Stealers Wheel]?"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing his pointed chin. "It can swap aspects of two or more objects it samples. But how–?"
"Well, turns out it can swap a whole lot more than we thought!" Setty seethed, running her hands through her hair. "Apparently, the little maniac managed to swap the Arrow out with a replica. Red didn't even notice!"
"Fuck me…" Syx silently sighed in frustration. "Why?!"
"She wanted to see more Stands." Setty laughed bitterly. "She thought it'd be cool."
Syx paused, spinning his wheels. "…Seriously?"
"That's literally the only reason."
Syx thought back to the time San made a fully-automatic potato-cannon out of a muffler, a crankshaft, a fuel injector, and a sparkplug. It worked, launching bottles of spray paint with enough force to rupture them on impact. Unfortunately, she never considered the implications of combining an internal combustion engine with a firearm and the contraption fired out of control until it ran out of ammo. According to the other kids, the inside of the Shop looked like a windshield after driving through a swarm of Wrath locusts. San thought it was 'so cool' regardless. "Yeah, that tracks."
"We have to catch them!" Setty said, frantically. "Dammit!"
"Well, do you know where they're going?" Syx asked. "It's not like they can avoid us forever."
"They're going to find Red," said Setty, turning to Syx. "They're gonna return the Arrow before Red notices it's gone!"
"Wait…" Syx said, gesturing 'time out'. "If they're gonna give it back anyway, why not let them?"
"Because!" Setty growled.
Syx stood there, waiting. "Because…?"
Setty opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself, thinking for a moment. "Because… they're just doing it so they don't get in trouble!"
"And?"
"And they should face up to the consequences of their actions!" Setty exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "Teach 'em a lesson!"
Syx's normal frown curled into a scowl. He knew why. Setty wanted to be the one to hand the Arrow back, return it to Red and bring him the culprits to make up for her prior failure in Little Wrath. What would Red do to them? How would he punish them? Syx himself had only seen the Sinner properly angry once, when Setty herself had stolen the Satan-damned thing to give Syx his [D5H]! Syx had never seen Red get physical with any of the kids, but then again he was singularly possessive of the Arrow. Had he only restrained himself because Setty was valuable to him? What would he do to just another kid in his retinue like San? What would he do to an unauthorized Stand User like Patty? Was Setty really so desperate for his approval that she'd sell out her fellow 'Donna kids?!
He bit back that bitter line of thought. No, Red needed to be made aware of what happened, to get ahead of any potential breaches in their operation. How many Stands had San made in the intervening days? One at least, and he sincerely doubted that she had emphasized any sort of discretion to her flock. Red needed to know, needed to see that they could be trusted. Perhaps Syx could convince him not to break their legs or some damned thing? Their punishment would be a small price to pay if it meant that they'd all one day be free of Boss Lady and her cruelty.
"Alright," said Syx, after a brief pause. "But we're gonna have to be discreet. No punching holes in things, no ruckus. And try not to hurt them."
"Aww! Not even a little?" Setty said, grumbling. "Little bitch threw me out a window…"
"What, really?"
"Kinda? It's complicated," said Setty, shrugging. "San's powers are weird."
"Alright, so," said Syx, nodding. "They're trying to return the Arrow to Red, so we just have to find him first and they'll come to us."
"Good thinking!" Setty said, smiling. "Do you know where he is?"
"No, but he and Kabby have been smelling slightly of gymsocks and mildew these past few days," said Syx, pointing to the adjoining hallway. "Best guess, they're in the Staff gymnasium."
"Great! Let's go!"
The gymnasium was hardly sparsely appointed, with a variety of gravity-charmed free weights, benches, and punching bags arrayed around the central boxing rings. It was deserted at this time of day, the only sounds within were the dense, thudding 'whack' of gloved fists working a pad.
"Jab," said Cowlick.
The bouncer-turned-star-enforcer raised her hands, encased in robustly padded training mitts. A smaller gloved fist thudded into the pad with muted but unmistakable force, jostling the towering, broad-set Sinner.
"Good footwork and follow through. Again."
The Sinner opposite her threw another viper-fast jab. He was small, well under 6-foot, and svelte, with a lithe athletic build bouncing around in the oversized white tanktop and black shorts. His skin was smooth and shiny, red with a checkerboard pattern of silver-white lines. His face was youthful, almost neotenous, and a creamy pink in hue below his darker, rose-colored 'hair', a mass of tentacles slicked back save for a single cowlick across his forehead. Compared to the burly mass of muscle and leathern skin standing opposite him, he appeared frail, delicate even, were it not for the visible jolts his strikes sent through her bulk when he struck and the whipcrack shockwaves echoing off the walls.
"Good work, Red! You've got it!" Cowlick said, nodding. "Now, show me a combo!"
Red nodded and hopped about the ring, hands up as he shifted from stance to stance, hissing as he unleashed a blindingly fast series of jabs, left and right before shifting posture and landing a right cross with a small thundercrack. Even through the dense powdered metal filling of the pads and the thick sturdy Wrath-steer leather wrapping it, Cowlick winced at the impact, still somewhat incredulous that Red was holding back. Him being in his less powerful 'twink form' had been one of the primary stipulations of her taking this gig!
It had been three days ago when that charming little imp, Kabby, had approached her with a proposition: show Red Nightmare how to fight. At the time, she'd assumed it was some kind of joke, Kabby was always one for cracking jokes and smooth one-liners. But no, he'd been fully serious, offering to pay her out of pocket for her skills and, most importantly, discretion. Both were the bread and butter of the bouncer scene, and a little extra spending cash was never a bad thing, so she accepted. But teach Red Nightmare how to fight? The notion itself struck her as grimly humorous, akin to teaching a fish how to swim or a lawyer to lie. The next few days revealed that, indeed, Red really didn't know how to fight. He was great at killing things, sure, but when it came to standing and trading, he was an outright amateur. His posture was all wrong, his follow through nonexistent, and the guy didn't even know how to grapple! Though, she supposed arm bars and leg locks weren't considered useful when one could make limbs fly like confetti. This whole time he'd gotten by on his speed and monstrous strength, never really bothering to learn the basics. How a demon got as powerful as him without knowing how to throw a proper punch seemed to her like building a skyscraper without a foundation, but she'd long since learned that it wasn't her job to ask questions.
"Very good, Red!" She said, dropping her hands. "I reckon that's it for drills."
"You think so?" He said, hopefully. "We can move onto sparring?"
Cowlick nodded, clapping the heavy pads together. "Yeah, now you've got your basic punches and posture down, I think so. You've made a lot of progress."
It was true. At first she'd been nervous about criticizing her slightly terrifying boss about his technique, but to her surprise he had been fully receptive. He had a fire in him, a determination and will that was the mark of a great fighter. The focus to brush aside ego and pride in order to improve, the resolve to put his goals above his immediate comfort and the relentlessness needed to pursue them. Details were a little sketchy, but from what she'd heard a trio of Vees had pulled Red into a Duel out in Little Wrath, resulting in them withdrawing their business from the area. She'd been presiding over a tribute exchange with the Greebles Gang at the time, so she hadn't managed to get a look at the aftermath, but she knew that anyone who could give Red Nightmare a bloody nose was no joke. He'd brushed up against someone near his level, someone who could fight, and it lit a fire under his ass and no mistake!
She pulled the pads off her huge, gnarled hands and put on her boxing gloves. "Now that you've got the basics down, I'm gonna assess your battle tendency."
"Hm?" Red said, sipping from his water bottle and toweling off his forehead. "My what?"
"Well," the Sinner said, gesturing at the ring around them. "Martial arts are all well and good, but the ring ain't the streets. You can learn how to do katas and kung fu and all that flowery crap all you like, but that all flies out the window when you're scrapping. Me? I'm a boxer and a wrestler by training. I get in close, the aim is to hit 'em hard enough they go down or get 'em into a grapple and force them to submit; that's my battle tendency. So even though I was trained to box and wrestle, I know that out there there's no tapping out or taboos about rabbit punches and box-punting, so I'd like to know if my opponent's inclined to do so. What I'm gonna teach you here is the basic tenet of fighting: figure out your opponent's tendencies in a fight."
"Their battle tendency," said Red, nodding. "I'm game. Alright how does this go?"
"First step: engage in glorious combat!" She said, raising her bowling-ball-sized mitts. "Get in here, Red!"
The presently slender – God, she envied how he could just switch to otter-mode – Red Nightmare smirked, putting up his dukes and sidling over. "You won't mind if I defend myself."
She grinned, her yellowed teeth flat and crooked as ancient cobblestones; it'll be at least a little gratifying to wipe that smile off his pretty face. "Do try."
They squared up, eyes set and focused. Compared to him, she was immense, 6'7 and almost 4' across the shoulders with a solid barrel-shaped torso atop two elephantine legs. She'd always been a built, heavy-set woman in life, but she still chafed at the idea of being a 600lb humanoid lump of scaly leather for all eternity. Especially when confronted with Sinners like Red, whose forms ranged from 'cutie' to 'hunk'. Resentment such as this was vital when getting into the fighting headspace, to want to rearrange the other demon's face, if only just a little.
She threw the first punch, a left jab, her telephone-pole thick arm moving with a swiftness that should be impossible for something her size. Red bobbed out of the way, keeping close, just as she expected. Before she'd even fully retracted her jab, her right was swinging towards his bobbing head in an equally fast cross. To her surprise, Red did not attempt to block the strike or back off, instead ducking under it and closing, readying his own cross to her exposed core. Her left swatted down, deflecting the blow and jabbing with her right. Once again, no attempt to gain distance or defend, instead weaving around and aiming an uppercut at her jaw. She intercepted the blow with her left hand, her instincts raising her right to deflect the feinted jab streaking towards her head.
She smirked internally: there, she had it.
Cowlick stepped forward and brought her right down in a last-second cross-counter, catching the smaller demon clean across the face, sending him tumbling to the mat. She stood over him, her guard up in case he lost his temper and came at her swinging. Red looked up at her from the floor, his eyes narrowed, a small snarl of outrage on his pretty, barely-scuffed face. She hadn't been holding back, either, not against a foe like this. Despite being in this smaller, weaker form, Red was still incredibly resilient, and fast as an oiled up succubus running through Valentino's studios! Even like this, Red would be trouble if he got it into his head to try and kill her.
The expression lasted all of an instant, the snarl curling into an amused smile as he rubbed his cheek. "Figured me out, did you?"
"Huh?" Cowlick blinked, slowly lowering her guard as she nodded. "Oh, yeah. Well, you're fast, real fast, and strong, even like this. You favor overwhelming aggression and speed, getting in close as quickly as possible and doing your damage. You'd rather dodge than block, though, and I doubt backing off even occurred to you. Am I right?"
Red chuckled softly and tapped his snout before getting to his feet. "The way I see it, if you can end a fight quickly, or even before it happens, do it. Why back off?"
"Because sometimes you can't finish it in one attack," she said, gesturing at herself. "I figured you out before you could land a hit and put you on the mat. Backing off or blocking earlier would have thrown me off a bit, made me wonder what you were going to do next. You might have even landed that jab."
"Interesting…" Red said, thinking. "Tell me, how do you figure these things out so quickly? Is it just time and experience?"
"Ehhh…" Cowlick gestured 'so-so'. "Yes and no. I learned how to fight growing up, sure, but since I came here, I guess I developed a sense for it?"
Red cocked an eyebrow. "Like, it's a demon power?"
"No, I always could figure people out, it's just that since I became a demon and started fighting all the damn time, I could eventually see and think and move faster. Combined the mindset with my improved senses."
Red smiled, his green eyes sparkling. "Think you could teach me?"
She grinned in response. "That's what I said I'd do, isn't it?"
A shape slid out of a ventilation shaft, shifting along the surface of the ceiling. A cubist-styled rendition of a baphomet looked around, her triangular eyes widening as she watched the two figures sparring in the ring. The figure pulled out of the vent and hopped up and down, inarticulate scribbles appearing next to it in a speech bubble.
"There he is!" San cried, 'pointing'. "Found him! Patty!"
"You don't have to shout," appeared next to her, emanating from the vent. "I'm right here. Actually, I'm pretty sure sound isn't a thing in here."
"Then how can you hear me?"
"Dunno," said the black hellhound as she exited the vent. "I think I'd hear you even if I was on the other side of the 'Donna. Maybe it's a psychic thing?"
"Your powers are weird."
"Says Ms. Mix'n'Match," Patty grumbled. "Okay. So there's Red–wait. Why's he so small?"
"Yeah…" San said, cocking her head. "Isn't Mr. Nightmare, like, huge? Ms. Cowlick's big, sure, but like in a big fat cuddly way, not super tall. He looks real short and skinny now."
"You sure that's him?" Patty asked, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing to slits. "That guy almost looks like a kid."
"How many kids around here have pink tentacle hair?" San offered. "Besides, he's a Faller, they got other forms and stuff? Maybe his other form is a widdle baby?"
"Queen Bee's tits, will this day just end?" Patty moaned, putting her face in her hands for a moment before centering herself. "Okay. Fine. What now?"
"We find his suit, swap out the Arrows, and then bingo-bonzo-we'll-be-gonzo!" San cheered.
"Where is his suit?" Patty said, looking around. "He's not wearing it right now."
"I don't think I've ever seen him wear anything besides that fancy suit," said San. "I don't think he got any other clothes."
"There's the locker room," said Patty, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. "C'mon."
The two caricatures walked along the ceiling and down the wall, not changing orientation. San flinched and stumbled, shaking her head.
"Woof!" She said, her speech bubble jittering. "Man, it's always so weird when that happens. I feel like I should be puking."
"You can't puke in here," said San, rolling her eyes. "You don't have a stomach."
"That sounded like a challenge~" San said, her speech bubble bracketed by musical notes. She stooped over, speech bubbles taking on a dripping, greenish tint as she retched. "Huuurk! Ulk! Urrrp!"
"San, stop fucking around!" Patty cried, waving her arms. "Focus!"
"Sorry."
They entered the locker room, looking around. The room was roughly L-shaped, with a long corridor lined with lockers and benches, bending off into the showers and bathroom area.
"Which one is his?" Patty said, looking around. "None of these have locks on them."
"Don't need 'em!" San scoff, shaking her head. "Who'd be stupid enough to steal from Red Nightmare?"
Patty shot the grinning, oblivious baphomet a withering glare, lines of ゴ ゴ ゴ ゴdancing about in the air around her head. "…I hate you so much, it's unreal."
"No ya don't!" San said, clapping her on the shoulder and running off along the wall and onto the lockers, slipping between the gaps between the door and frame. "C'mon! We'll cover more ground if we both look!"
Patty sighed and shook her head. "Why are you my best friend?"
"Cuz I'm awesome!" San replied, darting in and out of lockers. "Besides, if I wasn't getting you in trouble, what else would you do with your time?"
Patty slipped into a locker, looking around at the interior: nothing. "Oh, I dunno, do some painting? Relax? M-maybe w-work up the n-nerve to try and h-hang out with S-Syx?"
"Syx? Yeah, he's pretty cool. Real quiet, like you!" San poking her head out from a locker. "Ooh! You can hang out with Syx lots now that you're a Stand User!"
"Yeah, San, I don't think I'll be in his good books after this. Not after his best buddy Setty tells him what we did!" Patty popped out, grabbing her head in frustration. "Ugh! Still nothing! Just a bunch of old drug stashes and crusty socks!"
"We'll find it, don't worry!" San chirped, popping out of one locker and into another. "So… sweet on Syx, are ya?"
"Shut up, San."
"No, no, I see it. Syx is really cool and stuff, and he doesn't talk! I think it's a cute match," said San as she searched the lockers. "Yuck! Who shits in their own locker?"
"Probably wasn't their locker…" Patty grumbled. "And shut up! It's not like that! I j-just think h-he'd, y'know, uh-understand."
"Understand what?"
"M-me? What i-it's like t-to be d-different," she said, quietly, shaking her head. "But why would he care about s-someone like m-me? H-he's got S-Suh-Setty to t-talk to and hang out w-w-with. She s-so cool, and I'm… he'd p-probably just th-think I'm w-weird, like every wuh-one else."
San stepped out of the locker, a small frown on her angular, cubist face. "I don't think you're weird, Patty."
"Oh, that's a big comfort coming from a fucking maniac like you, San! " Patty snapped, throwing up her arms. "I don't know what's worse, the fact that I can't act like a normal person around normal kids, or that the only kid I can act normal around is an impulsive, destructive idiot!"
San recoiled as though struck, her eyes going wide, little white cubes appearing in them, indicating a glisten. She stooped forward, averting her gaze. "I'm sorry… I-I didn't mean to…"
"Well, you did! Some idiot notion pops into your head and you run with it, and when things go sideways, who is it you come running to? Me! Pulling me into your bullshit, just like you always do!" Patty exclaimed, turning to resume her search when she heard a sniffle. She turned around to see blue diamonds tumbling down San's face, her shoulders hitching as she sobbed quietly. "San? S-San, I-I'm sorry. I didn't m-mean it like that. I just… I'm not l-like you, you know? You're weird and you own it. Always s-saying whatever's on your mind and d-doing what you want. I w-wish I could be like that. W-wish I could go and d-do things w-without always w-worrying, or just speak my mind without st-st-stuttering. I admire that about you, San."
"Thanks, Patty," said the baphomet, fidgeting, her voice hitching. "I know I'm not, like, normal. Most kids don't really like me much. I always seem to get on their nerves or something, and they really don't like it when I set their stuff on fire. You're the only one who… lets me stick around. I'm sorry I got you in so much trouble. You're my bestest best friend, Patty."
Patty rushed over and wrapped her arms around the smaller kid. "Mine too."
San returned the hug, tears rolling down her cheek. "I'm sorry…"
"Hey," said Patty, pulling away from her. "You were right before. I don't know what I'd do with my time if you weren't always getting up to no good. Just… don't pull a stunt like this again."
San sniffled, wiping her now-rhomboid eyes. "N-no promises!"
The girls giggled and hugged again.
"So…" San said after a while. "Syx, huh?"
"Shut up!" Patty giggled, pushing her away. "I just think he's cool, is all! Other kids are all loud and chatty. He's–"
"Mute!" San said. "Literally can't talk! The perfect boy for you!"
"I was going to say 'calm, cool, and collected'," said Patty, swatting her giggling friend across the back of her head. "But yes."
"Yeah, I guess Syx is pretty cool. A l'il too frowny and skinny for my tastes, though!"
"You have tastes?" Patty said, incredulously, smirking. "Let me guess. Dew?"
"That scowling side of beef jerky? Ewww! No!" San tittered, clasping her hands together and looking off dreamily. "I like Arby~"
"What." Patty's incredulity deepened. "Like, Computer Lab Arby? Fat, snobby Arby? That Arby?"
"Yeah!" San chirped, spreading her arms wide. "He looks the funnest to hug outta anyone here! I just wanna grab that big ol' belly and squeeze~ squeeze~ squeeze~!"
Patty was suddenly struck by the mental image of the sullen, supercilious salamandrine attempting to remove the wiry little maniac latched onto his protruding gut. Her face scrunched and broke as she succumbed to gales of helpless laughter. San joined in, clearly not understanding what was so funny, but glad to see her friend happy.
Patty sighed and wiped away a tear, giggling. "And here I thought my crush was crazy! Good luck with that one, San, just try not to get squashed. Ha ha ha! Ahhh… phew! I needed that. Thanks."
San opened her mouth to reply when the door at the far side of the locker room opened and in walked Red Nightmare, still in his weird 'teenage' form. He dabbed his brow with a towel and set off for the far end of the corridor, not noticing the two 2D figures as they darted into a closed locker across the room, peering out.
He opened his locker, reaching in and pulling out a large towel. He stopped and looked into the mirror mounted on the door, brushing away the single tentacle hanging over his forehead, revealing what appeared to be a stylized tattoo of his own face. He smirked, his green eyes glinting with triumph.
"Did you see that, Solido? Were you watching?" Red said, his voice low and contemptuous. "I'm already picking it up. Getting better. You stole from me my last vestiges of Godhood. But so what? I don't need to see the future or erase time to bring this realm to its knees. Don't you see? All you've done is forced me to improve, to get stronger, to conquer not only the past, but the future as well! Meeting it as it comes and tearing it down, bending it to my will with my own two hands! And once I find a Stand that can remove you and restore me to my former greatness, I will be all the stronger for your meddling! You've failed! Do you understand? Failed!"
"Why's he talking to his forehead?" San said, not even bothering to whisper.
"Shh! Shut up!" Patty hissed.
"Why? He can't hear us in here."
"He's looking in a mirror, moron!"
Red's eyes darted over in the reflection, as though he'd seen something out of the corner of his eye. He stood up and turned around, his eyes narrowing. "What… what was that?"
He strolled over to the locker they had been hiding in, reaching out and swinging it open, revealing a moldy old towel and single sneaker, also covered in mold.
"Hrm." Red grunted, muttering. "Could have sworn I saw something move…"
He shut it and walked back over to his locker pulling out a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. He shot the mirror one last acid look, smirking, before swinging it shut. Over his head, on the ceiling, Patty and San stood, panting, their eyes wide and harrowed.
"Fuck me, that was close." Patty whispered, hoarsely. "H-he's insane. He's c-completely off his f-fucking rocker!"
"Mr. Nightmare's crazier'n a shithouse imp!" San said, grinning. "I like him!"
"Okay, the suit's in the locker. San, can you swap out the–" Patty turned to her side, the baphomet nowhere to be seen. "San?"
San was partially down the wall, watching as Red Nightmare peeled out of his workout clothes, innocent interest on her face. "Hee-hee! Dangly bits."
Patty zipped over and pulled her back into Red's locker, a hand clasped over her eyes. "San! Can you swap 'em out now?"
"Huh? No." San manifested [Stealers Wheel] in the Second Dimension. "The reticule's gray since there's just us in here. I think I gotta be out there to do it?"
"Okay…" Patty pressed her ear to the interstice between dimensions, the steel wall of the locker excellent at transmitting sound, hearing the patter of falling water. "Okay, he's in the shower, now. Let's go!"
The two pushed out through the barrier, setting down on the locker room floor. Patty looked around nervously as San readied her Stand. "Hurry up, hurry up!"
"Hold on, I just need to…" San paused and slapped her forehead, withdrawing her Stand. "Oh! Derp!"
"What are you doing?!" Patty whisper-shouted. "Get out your Stand!"
"I'll just switch 'em," said San, wiggling her fingers. "Y'know, with my hands?"
"Oh." Patty blushed, embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. Right."
"Here we goo–" San opened the locker, revealing the scowling face of Setty, her rose eyes glowing with fury. "–ooOOOOOOOOOOO!"
She slammed the locker door shut, only for the tall succubus to step through it as though it weren't there. "Hey girls… fancy meeting you here."
"S-s-s-suh-suh-suh–" Patty stammered.
"Shut it!" Setty growled, silencing her. "Now… San. Give. Me. The Arrow."
San summoned [Stealers Wheel], only for Setty's hand to flash out, glowing silvery armor flashing into existence around her, metallic fingers fastening around her throat and hauling her off her feet.
"I'm done fucking around!" Setty snarled, squeezing until San's eyes bugged out in their sockets. "You give me that Arrow right now and maybe I'll leave you in enough pieces for Red to punish!"
"SETTY!" Patty roared, lunging forward, [t.A.T.u] flashing into existence. "LET HER GO!"
"Patty, what're y–" Setty began to say when the 2D Stand slashed out with an angular, geometric paw.
The armored succubus vanished, now a moving portrait on the floor, fists slamming soundlessly against the interstice, her speech bubbles filled with the most unspeakably obscene vitriol. San's rear thudded to the floor, directly on Setty's face, her speech bubbles became pitch black and jagged.
"You okay, San?" Patty said, hurrying over and helping her to her feet.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, rubbing her throat and smiling. "Not the first time I've been choked."
"Can't imagine why!" Patty said, chuckling, before turning to the infuriated Setty, trapped in the Second Dimension, her eyes going wide as dinner plates, her ears going flat. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit what did I do what did I do she's gonna kill me when she gets outta there!"
"You mean 'if' she gets outta there…?" offered San, shrugging.
"No, San!" Patty cried. "She's one of us! I can't just leave her in there!"
"No," said a deep but youthful voice. "You can't."
They spun around to see Syx stepping through the door, his terrifying [D5H] hovering behind him. Patty went ramrod stiff, a furious blush burning in her cheeks and ears, her mouth open but no sound coming out.
"Let her out," said Syx through his Stand, his tone calm but firm. "Now."
The girls glanced at one another, neither doing anything.
The corner of Syx's mouth twitched. "Now."
The metal plates crossing [D5H]'s eye snapped open, the outer ring flaring to life. A dull thrum filled the air as gravity increased by a factor of three. The girls cried out as their bodies became impossibly heavy, their hair going taut as their clothes strained against their bodies. Slowly but surely they buckled, collapsing to their hands and knees.
"That's just three times normal gravity," said Syx, strolling forward. "Care to try four?"
The thrum shuddered, the benches beginning to buckle, as the girls collapsed completely, pressed into the ground by the relentless weight, unable to so much as scream.
"I can go up to over a thousand," said Syx, his tone soft and utterly cold. "The longer you hold out, the worse this gets. Let her out."
Patty squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to nod. An instant later and Setty was back in the Third Dimension, the enhanced gravity barely an inconvenience to her robust Stand.
"Thanks Syx! Now…" Setty said, hovering over the prostrate girls. "…Give 'em five!"
Syx sighed and relented, restoring gravity to normal. Patty and San took huge, shrill gasps, greedily sucking air as they stirred on the ground, coughing raggedly. San groaned, shaking her head, dazed, when Setty scooped her up off the ground by the scruff, holding her out in front of her like a kitten, hand extended. "Now… give me the Arrow."
"Give you the what?" A familiarly accented, high-toned voice said from behind her.
Setty spun around, eyes wide. Standing before her was what appeared to be Red Nightmare, an oversized towel securely bound around his waist. He looked like Red, but… not? He looked young, teenaged even, short and skinny and… cute?! Where were his muscles? His ruggedly handsome face? His stern, serious eyes? Where was her Red Nightmare?!
"Red?" Syx said, stupefied. "Why do you look like that?"
"He's almost as pretty as you, Setty!" Chirped San.
"Shut up!" Setty snapped, winding up to slap the little troublemaker. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, YOU MANIAC?!"
An enormous, studded hand grabbed her raised arm, holding it firm. Setty turned around to see Red, her Red, looming over her… wearing nothing but a now-very-small towel. She realized then she'd never seen Red out of his suit, only that he filled the thing out in all the right ways. She could now see why in exquisite detail, her eyes directly level with his rippling abdomen, craning her neck up to his mountainous torso and, eventually, to his face.
"Whoa," San croaked. "Muscles."
"Setty," said Red, frowning. "Give you the what?"
Setty stared up at him, her face a deep, dark red, and blinked. "…M'sorry wha?"
"Oh for the love of–" Syx hissed in exasperation and clapped his hand to his face, [D5H] pointing at the staring baphomet. "San stole the Arrow from you!"
Red released Setty's wrist as he turned to Syx, his face expressionless. "Excuse me?"
Syx felt an electric chill race up his spine as those eyes fell on him, the feel of the Sinner's attention entirely different than normal, holding within it a curious, oppressive weight. Setty snapped out of her trance, recoiling at the sizzling, invisible aura, her eyes wide and horrified.
Syx flinched and [D5H] began to babble. "San stole the Arrow from you. Th-three days ago, actually. The day all that stuff in Little Wrath happened. Hey, maybe the two could be connected, somehow? Since it's weird that you couldn't beat those Vees when you could before and why you've been such a sulking little bitch all this time holy SHIT [D5H] shut the fuck up!"
Syx deactivated his Stand and stumbled backwards, hands uselessly clasped over his mouth.
"San," said Red, his voice eerily flat, turning to look at the comparatively miniscule baphomet. "You… stole the Arrow from me?"
"Uh… yeah… sorry," San said, smiling cautiously at the enormous Sinner's even tones. "I just thought my Stand was really cool – thank you for giving me it, by the way! – and I wanted to see all the other cool Stands the other kids would have!"
"And how many have you made?" He said, his tone and expression unchanging. "These past three days?"
"Huh? Oh, uhhh, well, there's Shami, Horis, and Hannah from the Shop. Keter and Paris from the Computer Lab," said San, counting them off. "Uhh… Solus, Tanner, Brakka, Strype, and Leni from Home Ec. I wanted to give Murci one too, but she didn't make it wiggle-wiggle, y'know? Oh! And Patty! That's her over there. She's my bestie and her Stand is really cool!"
Patty wanted to run over, to slap the little idiot, to explain the situation better, to scream and bawl her eyes out and beg for mercy. But she couldn't do anything. She was frozen in place more so than when Syx had squashed her like a bug. Red said nothing, staring at San, expressionless, his immense, muscular frame outlined by a thin glowing corona of lightning blue. The air took on a heavy, thick quality, the smell of burning wires, of ozone, filling the locker room like a nauseating fog as their hair began to stand on end.
"I didn't mean to cause so much trouble." San said, a hangdog expression on her face, before looking back up to him hopefully. "You're not mad, are you, Mr. Nightmare?"
"Mad?" He said, sounding almost serene. "No, I'm not mad."
"Oh, good!" San said, heaving a sigh of relief. "'Cause I thought for sure you'd be–"
The air rippled and cracked, ionized and spitting as wind lashed away from the incensed demon, knocking the children away like dry leafs, his eyes glowing pits of toxic harlequin green. "M̴̦̞͖͋̾Ä̵̠̞͓́̾̿D̸͔͔͇͘͝͠ D̵͚͓͔͛̽͘O̸̺̺͊̿͌E̵̠̞̞͐̾S̸͍͉̀͜͠͝N̸̡͇͉̈́͊̒'̸͙͚̪̈́͝T̵͚͍͍̾͆ E̵͍͙͚̐̔V̴̼̻͔͐͛E̸̻͔̼̕͘͠N̸͕̝̫̽͐̾ B̵̘̻͚͆͆͠E̸͚̼̼̽́G̵̢͎͇̿͊͝I̵̡͇͙͐̽͘N̵̫͔̠̓̓͒ T̴̘̠̝̐͌̈́O̴̟̞͚̓̾́ C̵̡͚͍̓́̾Ö̵̟͍́̀͝V̴͚̙̦͌͐̚E̸̞͇͖̽̀R̸̢̞̓͑͌ I̸̢̞̫̐́T̴̙͎͓͑̿̐!̴̫͕̺͛̚!̸͖̞̝̓͠"
Red stood at the center of the maelstrom, his red and platinum aura writhing and dancing like wrathful fire as his already impressive bulk began to grow. His shoulders and torso bulging and swelling grotesquely with additional muscle, his arms growing long, thew, and apelike. His handsome features began to recede, becoming flat, feral, and terrifying as his tentacles writhed, long and studded with toothy suction cups.
His towel, thankfully, stayed on.
He looked around, his eyes circular lanterns of Hellish green light, glowering at the terrified children surrounding him. Upon seeing their faces, seeing them clinging to one another in sheer, desperate fear, he stopped, his snarl shifting into a grimace. His hands twisted into fists and he took a deep breath, holding it a moment and exhaling, shrinking. He repeated the process, returning to his normal form in increments.
"C̴̙͖̙͆̔͋ä̸̢͎̠́͐l̵̢͖̼͠͝m̸̡͙̓͋͜.̵͉̼͑͌ C͔̠͇a̦̙̠l̼̠m̡̦͇.̡͕͉ B̷r̷e̷a̷t̷h̷e̷.̷.̷.̷ I̶n̶.̶.̶.̶ a̶n̶d̶ o̶u̶t̶.̶C̲a̲l̲m̲…" He muttered to himself, normal once more. "I'm calm. Okay. Phew!" He turned to the kids, smiling apologetically. "Sorry about that. It's just… alright! From the top! San, how did you take the Arrow without me noticing?"
San gave a babbling, disjointed, but still somewhat understandable run-down of events, with Red nodding and 'mhm'ing throughout.
"…And when Emerson got out of the way, I put 'em back and swapped out the arrow!" San finished, her eyes comically large in her goatish face. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so so sorry I didn't think about what would happen I do that a lot but I'm sorry please don't–"
Red silenced her with a raised hand, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "Emerson… where is he now?"
"The m-m-m-Med Ward," answered Patty, obviously trying very hard to steady her speech and raise her voice. "H-he's g-gone c-c-crazy. Suh-something ab-ab-about a 'tuh–t-time nuh-knife'."
Red's eyes lit up at this, opening his mouth to inquire further before stopping himself, a wide, triumphant smile spreading across his features. "…I take it Emerson likes to bake."
"Y-y-yuh–" Patty began to say before Red silenced her too.
"Thank you, Patty, that will be all." Red turned to San. "And these other Stand Users you made. What can they do?"
"They–"
"You know what?" Red cut her off, brow furrowing. "It's better if I don't know."
"It is?" Syx inquired, still somewhat shaken at the outburst. "But–"
"Butts are for sitting, Syx," said Red, waving him off and turning to Setty. "And you. How did you get out of custodial duty?"
"I…" Setty began to say, her eyes going wide as the realization struck her. "I-I may have, kinda, sorta, maybe… knocked Surf the fuck out?"
"Oh, shit…" Syx moaned, his face in his hands.
"That must have felt amazing~" San crooned.
"It did feel pretty great." Setty nodded, allowing herself a small smirk, which vanished when she noticed Red looking at her impassively, his mouth a thin, tight line. "Look, Red, I know that was dumb, but the Arrow–"
He held up his hand again, shaking his head. "What's done is done. You were right to prioritize the Arrow. Good job."
Setty reinflated at this, a hopeful smile on her face. "So… we're not in trouble?"
"Oh, you're all in huge trouble," said Red, sighing. "We all are. The mission is compromised, perhaps fatally. We're going to have to act fast if we're to stay on top of things. Patty, San, round up all the kids you've given Stands to and bring them to Syx for a proper orientation. Setty, go check on Surf, if he's still unconscious, drag him into the middle of the hall and put an open bottle of booze in his hand. That should provide an acceptable cover story."
Setty nodded, brow furrowing. "And if he isn't?"
"Pray that he is," said Red, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If he isn't, and he hasn't already told –grhk!– Her Ladyship, you have my permission to neutralize him."
Setty and Syx glanced at one another, Setty turning back to Red. "You mean like…?"
"However you can," said Red, impatiently. "It's imperative he not inform Belladonna of what happened. I want him in no state to communicate, for a while at least."
Setty nodded, her face set and serious, shooting him a salute. "Gotcha."
"And me?" Syx asked. "What do you need me to do?"
Red smirked, nodding at the blind boy. "Keep doing what you've been doing, Syx. Scout for talent, keep the kids in line, be a leader."
Syx visibly swelled at this, almost smiling. "Will do."
"Oh, and Syx, Setty?" Red added, his eyes glinting above a warm smile. "Take the Arrow with you."
The two recoiled at this, shocked.
"What!?" Setty exclaimed. "After all that you're just gonna–?"
Red held up his hands, shaking his head. "I can't go into details, but going forward the less I know about the operation, the better. As I am now, I'm a liability to the mission, and we don't suffer liabilities in this organization. You two have shown me you're ready to take the reins. You've shown initiative and resolve, and I can see now that you're the best chance we have of success going forward. Setty, Syx… I'm proud of you two. Can I trust you to handle things on your own from here on out?"
Setty and Syx were silent, naked dumb shock clear on their faces. Red watched them for a moment, head cocked to the side in bemusement. Shouldn't they be happy? He shook his head and turned back to San, who was still fidgeting and looking around nervously, no doubt completely lost as to the gravity of the situation.
"San," he said, getting her attention, pointing to the dumbfounded teens. "The Arrow."
"R-right! Yes! Arrow time!" She said, nodding fervently and reaching into her breast pocket. "I got it right here! I just gotta–" Her face fell as her hand slipped into the pocket, her eyes going wide as the color drained from her cheeks. "Uh-oh."
"Uh-oh?" Red blinked, stomping over to her and leaning down, his eyes glowing. "What's 'uh-oh'?"
San scoured the small breast pocket before ravaging her other pockets. Tools, bolts, cigarettes, and various pieces of candy and shiny junk clattering to the floor. "Where is it? Where?! Wherewherewherewherewherewhere?!" She ceased her search and looked up at Red Nightmare, mortified. "I don't got it."
Red Nightmare blinked slowly, his expression flat, impassive, and huffed a small sigh. "Of course…"
The Bunks were unusually lively, given the time of day. Most of the kids were still out doing their duties, though in a slow, desultory manner. With Acquisitions temporarily out of action, all the other fields now had a surplus of workers. As such, many of the kids were keen to make what they had to do last, take extended breaks, or skip out altogether.
Ena lay in her bunk, surrounded by various papercraft sculptures, exquisitely folded paper forming clean, distinct representations of people, planes, and every kind of animal, hanging from the bunk frame by multicolored bits of string. She hummed to herself happily as she scribbled away in a nice, leather-bound sketchbook. The thing had been full to bursting with big sheets of blank paper when Dew had given it to her, but now it was lean, almost empty with only a handful of pages left. Ena knew that it'd be sad when it was out, as sketchbooks were a rarity at the 'Donna, and she'd been so happy when Dew had given it to her. She had no idea what he'd done to get it for her, but she knew it couldn't have been easy. She knew there was nothing her amazingly cool big brother wouldn't do for her. So she drew him pictures and made him pretty crafts. It was one of the few times he'd ever smile.
"Hmmm…" The eight-year-old mumbled, tongue sticking out of her mouth. "Needs more… blood."
She reached up into the frizzy, chaotic mass of platinum hair atop her head, festoon with colorful ribbons and a smattering enthusiastic but unsuccessful attempts at ponytails. She pulled out the nub of a colored pencil, carefully shaved down to make it last as long as possible.
It was dark green.
Perfect.
She scribbled on the paper, filling in the borders of an expanding pool of blood seeping out of a crude rendition of Mean Old Fat Clock-Guy. She'd never met what's-his-name, and had only seen him a few times, but whenever Dew and the others would talk about him it was never good, a lot of violent ill-wishes and no-no words. Right now especially, as Mean Old Fat Clock-Guy was wearing on Dew and his friends' last collective nerve. Apparently, Clock-Guy was butting heads with the imp-boss, Mr. Kabby, in the Shop. The two of them were playing tug-of-war with the teams, pulling them back and forth between scrapping and fixing, and it was driving Dew up the wall. More so than usual, that is.
She'd only ever seen Mr. Kabby once, when he showed up with Big Scary Mr. Nightmare to get Zak. She'd wanted to draw the two of them in the usual style after that, but whenever she talked to Dew about them, he seemed almost… fond?
As fond as Dew could be, that is.
According to Dew, Mr. Kabby at least 'knew his (boy-part) from a lug-nut' and 'could sniff out rockets like Boss Lady sniffed her own farts'. Mr. Kabby was alright in Dew's books, which made him alright in her books, too. Big Scary Mr. Nightmare was a little more complicated. Dew spoke highly of his tendency to 'smear fools' and '(no-no word) up smart(no-no word)es with more (boy-parts) than sense', but she could tell Dew didn't like him. Or, that Dew didn't trust him. So neither did she.
Still, it struck her as odd that other kids seemed to. Mr. Syx seemed to look at the big, scary Sinner in much the same way other 'Donna kids looked at him. And Ms. Setty, well… even Ena could spot a crush a mile away. One day, Ena drew a picture of Setty holding his hand atop a dead Boss Lady and a pile of Staffers. Upon seeing it, she got really, really red and thanked her a whole bunch before hiding the drawing under her pillow instead of putting it up on the wall of her bunk with the others.
Older kids were weird.
Once the blood had been filled in, she admired her work. In it, Dew was standing atop the crumpled, broken form of Mean Old Fat Clock-Guy, his round body dented and deformed, his limbs broken off, with a pool of dark green blood spreading on the ground around him, springs and gears floating in it. It was that last little detail that made her heart swell with pride. A true artist paid attention to little details. Dew's hand was raised in victory, with big muscles and an even bigger smile. Ena had never seen her brother smile that big, though she figured that smashing Clock-Guy to pieces would do the trick. His raised hand was empty, though. What to put in it?
"What do you think, Scrum?" She asked the ratty, patchwork teddy bear sitting next to her pillow. "What would Dew use to bash up Clock-Guy?"
"He should use a crowbar," said Scrum, Ena's voice taking on an affected raspy growl. "Or a jackhammer, to really smash 'im up! Or maybe a pipe-wrench, since that bloated old fuck looks like a 'shine still!"
"Scrum!" Ena exclaimed, affronted. "Language! You know how Dew feels about no-no words!"
"Dew uses no-no words alla time!" Scrum protested. "Fuckin' hypocrite!"
"Dew also smokes yucky cigarettes that make his breath smell," said Ena, pointing her nose up at the stuffed animal. "I bet no-no words are what make your breath smell!"
"My breath doesn't smell…" Scrum grumbled.
"Stinky!" Ena chirped, grabbing the bear and rolling onto her back, holding him over her. "Stinky, smelly Scrum with a mouth like a potty!"
"You're so mean to me, Ena!" Scrum cried. "I do not stink like a potty!"
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" Ena giggled, shaking her head. "Scrum smells like Setty's prettiest dresses!"
"I'd rather smell like her undies~" Scrum crooned, gurgling a laugh.
"Ew! Scrum!" Ena groaned, her adorable face scrunching in disgust. "That means you'd smell like a bum!"
"Setty's bum!" Scrum countered.
"I never shoulda let you spy on those older boys talkin'," said Ena, sternly. "They put weird ideas in your head! I don't know how you talked me into it!"
"I'm good at that," said Scrum, proudly. "Next time, let's spy on the older girls!"
"Maybe," Ena acquiesced. "But only if you gimme a good idea about what to draw in Dew's hand."
Scrum paused for a moment before saying: "A spoon!"
"A spoon?" Ena cocked her head. "Why a spoon?"
"Because it's dull, you twit!" Scrum cackled. "It'll hurt more!"
"Of course!" Ena's face broke into a bright smile, squeezing Scrum to her chest. "You're the best, Scrum!"
"I know."
The little succubus put the finishing touches on her masterpiece and hopped out of her bunk, walking the short distance to the boys' section, to Dew's bunk. Dew had been by recently, but didn't have time to stop and chat. He'd been fussing with his bed a bit when she'd walked in on him, noticing a curious tension in his bullish shoulders. He greeted her and kissed her on the forehead before hurrying back to work. Poor Dew. He always worked so hard in the Shop, going on dangerous missions to get more cars, more often than not coming back bruised and battered. But no matter what, he'd always come back with a gift for her, either food or candy or more paper and drawing supplies. It was the least she could do to make sure he was always on the cutting edge of the artistic world!
She hurried over to his bunk, considering laying the drawing on top of his pillow. She dismissed the idea, as someone could walk by and steal it! Or, more likely, a draft would blow it away. She clambered up onto his bed and carefully slipped the drawing under his pillow. She stopped when she felt something under there. Something hard and heavy, like metal.
"Huh?" She grunted. "Wuzzat?"
She slipped her dainty hand under the pillow and felt around. It was metal alright, but strange also. It was oddly warm and buzzed faintly, like a phone but far away. She reached in to grab it.
Turns out, it was also very sharp.
"OWWW!"
