A/N: This one is a bit more slice-of-life/domestic than the others, but I put the same amount of effort into it as the others, so please don't forget to review if you want!

As the beating sun bared down over a warm and breezy coastal town in the east of England, seagulls cawing overhead and mid-morning tides brushing the pale sands, the welcoming aroma of fresh air gently blew through the open window of a flat only minutes from the beach to lightly brush against the neck of the individual inside who was readying themself for another relaxing, and possibly eventful, day of their holiday. Plans of rest and relaxation fresh in their mind, they had awoken to the partially muffled sounds of their neighbours enthusiastically chatting away in the corridor outside, the children shouting and talking with as much energy as they could while parents struggled to calm them down. Not much different from home, they thought, smiling to themself at the mild commotion. Bringing a warm smile to their face while they stood before a full-length mirror that had been hung against a tasteful wall of navy-and-white striped wallpaper in the flat's bedroom, its guest was fresh-faced and getting ready for their first full day at the seaside.

After waking up to the relaxing sounds of the coast, and having a brisk shower to wake themself up, the rarely seen human visage of Glear Fel Fotch Lyr-Draad Slitheen pulled on a loose and airy light grey t-shirt, making sure that they looked presentable before heading out to the town dressed in an appropriately summery manner. Salty air reaching their nose, they breathed it in with an at-peace sigh, adjusting the shirt over knee-length canvas shorts and pulling at wayward creases with stout fingers until it sat over them comfortably, forest-green manicured nails bold against the fabric.

"Get a change of scenery for a few minutes" was the phrase they had been told by one of their many younger cousins who did nothing but go out for changes of scenery, partaking in wine and fine food, and everything else humans had to offer as long as he didn't need to pay for it himself. Glear wondered if, perhaps, the Prince's (as they called him, knowing full well it was an act) penchant for it would catch up with him eventually. They were no better than each other, in the end, but the words had struck a chord somewhere deep within Glear's soul.

'It's been a while since I've had to use this.' Glear said their thoughts aloud, stretching upwards on tiptoes to make sure their alien bulk was settled properly within the human skin suit that snugly covered them, which was easier said than done. While outwardly, they looked like an adequately large human being, the Slitheen was larger still, the compression device around their neck hard at work to keep the suit from tearing to pieces. Typical for their kind, Glear's disguise was that of a thirty-two-year-old individual whose overweight frame rivalled their own, which made for a more natural fit on their heavily built alien body. Warm to the touch despite its perpetual state of undeath, the skin's peach-toned complexion glowed with pinks and reds, and the deceptively kind oak brown eyes that sat above their softened cheeks held an unexplainable shine. A mop of tousled blonde hair fell down to their neck, fringe streaked with thin lines of green that matched their nails; and on their nose perched a pair of rectangular glasses decorated with silver chains from which hung marquise cut emeralds—glinting under the rays of light that danced through the waving curtains. Despite the clear effort and passion that had gone into curating the persona, the reason why it wasn't seen that often was simply because Glear had never needed to disguise themself in their line of work. Being primarily required to sit in a chair all day watching how all of the other hard-working, grifting, hunting clan members were doing meant that they were never called upon for the same field work that was undertaken by their kin. Related to this, Glear had never understood how certain members of the family, such as the ever-charming Prince Boy in his indulgent finery, could keep themselves stuck inside one for hours, never mind for days on end. But if it came to it, really came to it, they could squeeze down to human proportions, contrary to what their relatives assumed just by looking at them.

'Ah.' Glear voiced, pleased with themself, turning in the mirror to ensure the outfit was as perfect as it could be, picking at their teeth with a nail, 'There. And they said I couldn't do it!' They guffawed at all those who dared to doubt it was possible, proudly admiring their own effort in the meantime. They were in no rush, time purely their own, 'Now, what to do?' They spoke through stolen lips, heading into the living area to make themselves a morning brew of tea leaves and spices while absentmindedly flicking through rectangular leaflets of fun activities and sightseeing opportunities. None caught their eye in the moment, but that was fine, Glear had plenty of hours to use so they had no doubt that the castle at the top of the cliff would eventually be graced with their presence. Other sights reminded Glear that they should have brought someone special along, Izra, their daughter who under any other circumstance would be there, but according to those they had spoken with, she was "very busy" with an important and undisclosed task all of her own. It was disappointing, but they knew she would be well looked after wherever she might be.

Seemingly unnoticed by the rest of their family, Glear's visit to Earth was nothing more than an understandably self-serving holiday trip to get them to get away from the cacophony and bustle of the spacecraft after enduring its noise for so long. Being on duty for almost every hour of every day that passed them by to ensure that the schemes and plots of their family went like clockwork took its toll, and once in a while even they needed to get away from the constant fuzzy light of screens and flashing consoles. Now, it was their time to do as they pleased, without interruption. Their days on Earth were well and truly their own with plenty of attractions to see and activities to take part in. Which is what they would have liked, if mere minutes later, the smartphone that was placed on the wooden coffee table in the middle of the living room hadn't started to buzz with the sound of someone trying to get their attention. Letting out a heavy groan of reluctance, Glear paced over to it, swapping its position with a heavily spiced cup of tea, and accepted the incoming video call while slouching comfortably into the settee, moving cushions aside so they could fit. Resolving itself from a handful of pixels beamed from high above, the image on the other end unscrambled into a very familiar sight that startled them enough for the phone to drop from their hands. Scrambling to pick it up, Glear saw the figure of a Slitheen that was much larger than themself. If their natural form could be described as "overweight", then the figure would be considered obese by comparison, its corpulent body awkwardly stuffed into a chair that it wasn't intended for, uncomfortably shuffling in place until it was suitably seated. Framed within a gilded chamber were thin, delicate drapes pinned from the ceiling to the floor as riches and exotic artifacts were tastefully displayed for all those who entered, it was clear that the inhabitant held much wealth and power.

'Dad! I wasn't expecting you to—! Is everything okay? Are you both okay?' Glear asked with worry, getting their words out faster than they could think, suddenly sitting upright, ready to return at a moment's notice if anything was amiss back at home. The notion of their father contacting them personally sent metaphorical alarms ringing in their head that something had gone wrong.

'I apologise for startling you, child,' Glear's father said with a booming voice that commanded authority, almost deific in strength, 'I see that you've hidden yourself in human form. Good, I have a job for you, while you're away.' his lips curving into a small smile, fully aware that his child couldn't refuse even if they wanted to, bound to the task by blood. Relieved upon hearing the decidedly more positive news, Glear began to calm down, sinking back into the chair with a hand against their chest and a small exhalation of breath.

'What job could make Daraxian, Grand Patriarch of the Lyr-Draad Slitheen, come to me for it?' Glear eventually said in an exaggerated but relaxed manner once they had stilled their beating heart, to which the Patriarch gave a loud and deep laugh in response, a surprisingly jovial sound for the respected head of a crime family. Alongside his laughter, a woman could be heard joining in, her clawed hand lightly placing itself on Daraxian's wide shoulder while she gracefully took her place beside him. At this point, the camera zoomed out to show the new arrival: Glear's mother, and the respective Grand Matriarch, Zellora. Of equal size and stature to her husband, the two of them together made for an imposing sight.

'He can never leave you alone, can he?' Zellora said, sympathetic to her child's plight, 'I've made him promise that after it's done, he'll let you have your time off.' She told Glear, the information coming as a shock to Daraxian himself, who kept his mouth shut because he knew that Zellora would win if he protested the statement.

'There's no need to be like that, they asked you a question, remember?' Zellora joked, nudging him with her elbow. At this, Daraxian cleared his throat, and continued with the reason he was calling in the first place.

'Aside from being my child, who would never say no to me,' Daraxian said purposefully, unsubtly trying to convince Glear to agree, 'You're in the right place. The target is visiting the same area you are tonight. I want you to kill him and bring back his skin as soon as possible. Which should be easy for you considering that wretched face you're wearing.'

'I like this face. At least the compression's manageable.' Glear muttered in what was quite possibly the only time they would defend a human, their mother agreeing with the sentiment, 'Know where he's going to be?' They asked, minimising the call to pull up a map of the local area, 'Looking around was on my schedule anyway...' Dragging their fingers across the screen, Glear zoomed in on a few locations of interest that they noted down, plenty of options all within a nice, medium distance from each other. Going between all of them at a brisk walking pace would be a nice exercise, looking forward to it regardless of how tired they might feel by the end.

'Wonderful. According to our sources, he'll be stopping by a local restaurant or similar this evening, nothing too fancy. I'll get Brynn to do all that for you.' Daraxian clicked his claws together, gesturing an oversized hand at someone off-screen and almost immediately a text message that contained the restaurant's address popped up on Glear's phone. While they were usually stationed on-board the ship itself, monitoring and checking up on family members from afar, Brynn preferred to be on the ground, getting her hands dirty with setting up cables and wires as well as being an extra presence if the plans and schemes demanded it. The two often crossed paths and were considered each other's close friend. Glear had even thought about inviting her along, but changed their mind after realising that it would leave the family with nobody to man the hub in both of their absences.

'Get that job done for me, would you? Saves me a lot of trouble trying to get someone else down there.' Daraxian ordered, forgetting just who he was talking to for a moment.

'You could at least say "please", you know?' Zellora told him sternly, 'It costs nothing, especially to your own flesh and blood.' She smacked his arm with the back of her hand for his lack of manners.

'It's not a problem, I can do it for you.' Glear agreed to the proposal plainly, it was a fairly routine job, nothing out of the ordinary that they needed to do for it, and they could spend the rest of their day doing as they pleased.

'Thank you, dear!' Zellora said, a motherly smile on her face, 'I have to say, I wish that I could come down there with you younger ones, it's been quite a long time since we've had fun like that, hasn't it?'

'It has, yes. We've been quite busy up here, I suppose, what with all the meetings and such.' Daraxian sighed, reminiscing, 'Those were the days…'

'Yes, I remember when you…Oh, don't let us keep you, sweetheart.' Zellora told Glear, who had been patiently watching their parents, 'You've got your mission to get on with!'

'Before that, do you know anything about how Izra's doing? I haven't heard from her. I know she's out with some of the others on a job or something, but…'

'No, nothing right now. But I'm sure she's in safe hands. Nobody would let anything happen to her.'

'Alright, well, I'll talk to you later on, when it's done.' Glear told them, while they quietly began discussing their past exploits with each other. They gave an affectionate smile while their father nodded his head approvingly, giving a quick wave goodbye before the connection was ended. Stretching as they stood, rolling back their shoulders, they could feel it in their core that the day was going to be good.

Taking fleet footsteps for their size down the old and wide brick staircase that was thoughtfully right next to their accommodation, Glear stepped out onto the pavement that was only a short distance away from the warm and soft sands of the seafront, hit by the brisk winds that had picked up. Already, the street was busy with other tourists and residents going about their business, eating ice cream, poking their heads into shops that sold all the souvenirs and silly trinkets that you could possibly want; from fridge magnets to keyrings, to sticks of "rock", which was apparently just sugar flavoured and shaped into a stick. They also wanted to visit those shops to grab a few things to decorate and hang around their desk space but told themself that it would have to be done later. The mission came first, which equated to walking for a few minutes through small groups of excited humans until coming to the glass-fronted restaurant that the target would be visiting. Nautical theming abound, appropriate for the coast, a chalkboard sign in the window indicated the day's special as locally caught crab that Glear presumed was cooked and served alongside vegetables, sauces, and a sense of dread at having to get the white meat out of the shell it had been served in. They subconsciously licked their lips at the thought of it, tearing apart the creature to get to what was inside like tradition entailed. Although they accepted the fact that the crab could not be served to them alive. Which was a shame. Maybe they wouldn't need to order anything, if they arrived later than the target, just a glass of water would do it.

Expecting that they would need to book a table in advance, they notified their father. Or, rather, they sent a text message to Brynn who then relayed it to him, coming back with responses flourished by her own hand with commentary and reactive emotes. Eventually, she called Glear up directly because the day was slow, and she was bored:

'So, first bit of good news, you don't have to book a table. Just turn up and find a space.' Brynn told them, relieved that they didn't have to spend time falsifying a table booking, for once. The responsibility fell to her more often than not, without much reason as to why.

'Means I can get as close as I can to him.' Glear shrugged, less work for them to do, 'Speaking of, got any information about the man I'm looking for?'

'Right…' Brynn started, audibly flicking through paper notes, 'He's called Magnus Briar, apparently. Fifty or so, standard age for this lot. Businessman away on his annual days off, the usual type.'

'Unusual name for a human though.' Glear commented, as Brynn illuminated them on the man himself:

'His business partners describe him as a "stern and focused man" who brings results, responsible for a few companies that're making a hefty profit. I wish you could see these numbers because wow. Second bit of good news is that you won't have to follow him around all day, we've got someone else on that.'

'Why not get whoever that is to kill him then? If they've gotten that close to him in the first place?' Glear asked, confused.

'It's a little bit…complicated. Anyway,' Brynn quickly moved on, not allowing Glear a chance to pry further, 'There's some other details I should tell you about.'

From what those back at base could find, making a profit was Magnus's main goal, and from complaints they found on message boards shortly after, it was apparent that he prioritised money over his workforce. A prime target if ever Glear saw one. Not one they would wear, but his value was inherently visible to anyone with common sense. From pictures that Brynn had found and sent over, Magnus was indeed incredibly wealthy with the overindulged frame to match, his button-up shirts consistently appearing to be at their limit underneath expensive suits and ties. A large, greying beard on his chin that connected over his top lip. Very similar, Glear reckoned, to their father if he was to take up the mantle of humanity once more, like their parents had discussed earlier. The mere thought of which sent them into a round of laughter.

'I'd love to see that!' Glear said to themself, 'He wouldn't last five minutes. It'd break before he…' They trailed off, the train of thought immediately distracted by a coincidental acknowledgement of the ripe scent of fresh crab meat in the air that made their stomach growl.

'Everything okay?' Brynn enquired with concern lacing her voice as their voice got quieter, mildly worried about how her counterpart was handling the experience of being among humans after an extended period of having nothing to do with them.

'Everything's fine, have to go.'

'Wait! I'm not finished—!' Brynn's assertive tone abruptly cut off as Glear ended the friendly chat to follow their own selfish desires. With a quick sniff of the air to pinpoint its source, Glear whipped themself around to meet eyes with a vendor nearby, his stall fronted with crustaceans and fish on ice that would make for a nice snack while they saw the sights. Either the crustaceans or the vendor, both would be suitable for a creature like them. Hoping that this wouldn't be how they discovered an allergy to seafood, they made a quick stop by the jauntily decorated counter, having a pleasant conversation with the human about the merits of different shellfish before continuing on their way, munching on a sandwich generously packed with crab as they had requested.

'Mmm. Who knew humans could come up with something like this.' To Glear's surprise, it was delicious, begging them to go back for another. But no, they had to save themselves for later, it was decided. Acclimatising to the new sustenance that they would be living on for the subsequent days, other sights aside from the plethora of seafood caught their eye as well. To their left, an old shop on the seafront had been remodelled into a haunted house which they were drawn to like a moth to a flame, the delightful smell of human fear and adrenaline filling their lungs like a fresh spring blossom; while arcades called them inside with flashing lights and serenading them of out-of-sync music as coins cascaded from ledges, occasionally bringing prizes down in the process. Glear considered trying the crane machines, stuffed toys trapped in glass boxes dying to be freed, but after witnessing a group of teenagers trying and failing for several minutes to win anything from it, they thought better of risking their hard-earned travel funds. Hesitantly walking past, attempting to ignore the temptations within before double-backing on themself and going in anyway, Glear threw a few loose copper two-pence coins into a penny pushing machine that had a plastic keychain dangling precariously on its edge, just a few good shoves away from falling into someone's hands. Little skill was required, only good timing. Overwhelmingly, inside of the arcade held a stench of copper and age within its very being, irremovably stuck to the walls and floor. As much part of the attraction as the coin-devouring mechanisms were.

'Come on,' Glear said to the inanimate object, willing it to edge closer, pushing in more coins at a hurried pace in an act of desperation, 'You've got to move, any day now.' They stabbed a stubby human finger against the glass before stomping off to get more pences, watching the machine in case anyone tried to steal their well-earned prize. Thumbing more two-pences into it, their tenacity to win the cheap little souvenir eventually paid off as it was nudged over the precipice and into the metal winnings tray underneath. Glear's face lit up with a childlike glee at holding it in their hand, discovering a new form of entertainment for themself in the process.

Suddenly, while they celebrated their small victory, an impact jolted their side as a young girl ran into their arm and continued past them, stopping to look back with a brief and not-at-all apologetic "Sorry." before fleeing further in, unaccompanied by any responsible adult. Glear held nothing against her, she was just doing as all children did, running around and playing without a care in the world, and…

Glear felt that something was off, a lack of weight in their hand where the keychain had been. Staring down at their barren palm, thought passed through their head: The child had stolen it from right under their nose! And if they weren't too busy being impressed by the sleight of hand it had required, they would have been furious. It was no use trying to find her, as like all good thieves, she would have made a swift and untraceable getaway, most likely back onto the streets where she could mingle back in with the crowd and carry on her scheme unnoticed. Or that's what Glear would have done, recalling their own exploits at that age.

'I…I can't be mad at that.' Glear stood for a few moments, in awe, 'I just can't. Almost as good as the younglings.' They admitted. Actually, some of them could learn a thing or two from her, whoever she was. Recovering from the loss was easy enough with what was around, other keychains and plastic toys to be had, of which they accrued plenty to give out back at home. Although by that point, the stuffed toys in the crane machines were looking awfully enticing to Glear too, who incorrectly assumed that the soft array was expensive to buy in a normal shop, but here you could get it with just a few pound coins if you were good enough. Setting their eyes on one that contained plush, cutesy dinosaurs that their own child would snatch up in a heartbeat, it felt to them like they were just stealing the things at this point. But as they placed the first coin into the slot, it was clear that things were not all as it seemed. The first few grabs didn't pick up anything at all, which Glear attributed to their own depth perception and unfamiliarity with the game, which turned into a quick recognition that it wasn't about skill or patience at all. Clearly, it was rigged to some extent, only letting players win when it decreed.

'Seriously? Fine. Guess I'll just have to do it the hard way.' Glear thought with an extremely determined look in their eyes, moments away from kicking the abomination's plastic casing. Coin after golden coin was spent on the cheating device, inching a rounded, teal blue T-Rex closer and closer to the enclosed chute. Nerves holding, they dragged it up against the thick plastic wall that seperated the win area from the rest of the machine. Plan in mind, they used the claw to pull the dinosaur upwards instead of hoping for the claw to do it all for them, predicting that at some point, it would tip over and fall into the collection point.

And several seconds later, the last coin used, the unthinkable happened.

With a soft thunk, the teal blue dinosaur, in all of its cuddly glory, was in their grasp. Quickly grabbing it out of the hatch before the girl came back, they held it in their hands, luxuriously soft fabric brushing against their fingertips. They had never seen, felt, or owned anything like it.

'Hi!' A child's voice said, popping up beside them with the exact amount of joy and mischief you could imagine after seeing the toy in Glear's arms. They jumped back a few steps at her sudden appearance. It was like she could smell the value it had to them. More importantly, why was she only menacing them when there were plenty of other unaware patrons to pickpocket?

'Have you come to steal this too?' Glear asked, with a hint of animosity. Now that they had a better look at her, since she was properly showing her face to them, it was clear to see that she was tall for what Glear presumed to be her age—around ten they reckoned—and was chubby, with a cherubic rounded face and sparkling hazel eyes that only served to make her look more adorable. Disarming, Glear preferred after what had happened only minutes ago. She was definitely dressed for running around and causing all manner of mischief, in a light-yellow t-shirt underneath some blue dungarees with scuffed trainers on her feet. Her hair was long and half of it was light brown; the other half faded down to the tips with pink. With a discernible wave to it, it draped over her shoulders. Strangely, Glear couldn't get a clear read of her scent, only a smothering amount of artificial strawberry-smelling shampoo and floral shower gel. As if her parents had forced her to take a ridiculous number of baths in one day. It was covering something, but even with their fine-tuned sense of smell, all that was there was soap.

'No, I'm not here to take it.' The girl smiled happily, instead holding out the keychain that she had pilfered with a tiny look of guilt on her face, 'I came to give this back.'

'No, it's fine. You…You got me fair and square.' Glear told her, truthfully, 'Keep it, you've earned it. Just don't do it to me again.'

'Just to you?' She asked, confused as to why they weren't telling her off for stealing from everyone, like the other adults did. Their warning was much more lenient in comparison and they weren't even telling her to stop.

'Yeah, I don't care about anyone else.' Glear shrugged, much to the girl's delight.

'Really!? Thank you!' She exclaimed, mouth wide in surprise, hesitating before giving the disguised Slitheen a surprisingly strong hug for someone so small, stepping back and neatening her clothes as she skipped off again with one last thing to say:

'See you later!'

'See me later…What do you mean?' Glear repeated back to themself, confused at what just happened but pleased that they were able to keep the dinosaur. Unaware that the little girl was casting a covetous look upon it as she left.

After returning to the flat to stash their new accomplice somewhere safe, Glear retraced their steps back to the restaurant where they were intended to keep watch on their designated prey, a beautiful and starry twilight descending. Arriving back at the nautical restaurant, they entered with a sense of purpose, surveying the filled seats for their prey. Scanning through the filled seats, Magnus Briar was easily identifiable from his chair at the back, shouting into his mobile phone with no care for the other patrons, a stormy expression on his face that was as grey as his buttoned-up suit that struggled to keep his rotund form within. Since the tables around him were clear, understanding that it was because nobody wanted to be in his way, Glear picked themself a table at the back as well, on a cushioned booth seat that had a clear view of the whole floor, just in case. More importantly, it was positioned directly behind Magnus, and they could sense the rich musk of aftershave and self-importance on him. Quite normal for a man like him, in his fancy suit and polished shoes.

'I don't care what they're saying! Get it done!' Magnus continued shouting ruthlessly into his communications device, between mouthfuls of thick and perfectly cooked steak, 'I want them working overtime until everything's sorted!'

'You could at least say "please".' Glear muttered at the man's rudeness, catching themself repeating what their mother had said before, 'He really is like my dad.' Glear noted that the comparison between the two was staggering, and they were even more convinced that Magnus was going to be a new skin suit for Daraxian. He had the size and personality for it, at any rate. And the appetite. Flicking through the menu, Glear pretended to be choosing something whilst covertly looking at Magnus's table, watching as he argued on the telephone about fulfilling orders and making whoever was underneath him work unreasonable hours; in another breath, stuffing his face with rich, oily food that befitted him.

'Not much will have to change there then.' Glear thought, aware of how their family usually ran things once it had a hold within a company or government.

Swapping over their focus to the door for a moment, not wanting to get caught staring into the man's back, they heard the door's bell ring and within seconds a young girl walked in with a similarly purposeful stride. Wiping her hands on the side of her dress to dust it down, she hummed a simple tune. Glear could swear that they recognised her. The rosy-cheeked face and glittering eyes.

'That's…' Glear began to say quietly. She was wearing a puffy-sleeved dress now, but they were certain that the girl was the same one that had stolen from them earlier. At first, it appeared that she was heading to Magnus's table, he even reacted to her as if she wasn't intended to be there at all. And she very much wasn't. Nobody had told them that he had one, none of the photographs showing her existence and yet, here she was.

'Isabelle! What are you doing? I told you to stay in the hotel room until I get back!' Magnus quietly hissed to her in the way that parents did when they didn't want to make a fuss in public, to which she simply ignored him. Walking around to the long, cushioned bench that Glear was positioned on, she neatly placed herself beside them with an unusual familiarity, kicking her legs playfully. Magnus turned in his seat, leaning his arm across the top of the chair to see what, exactly, she was doing while Glear rested their hands on their own table.

'Who are you?' Magnus asked with a tired huff, regarding Glear as nothing but a simple commoner. Putting on a mildly startled look in response they pointed at themself.

'Me? I'm nobody important.' They said innocently, 'But it's…wonderful to meet you. You're Magnus? Magnus Briar? I have to say that it is an honour.' Glear said to the man, lying through their teeth, their own words making them cringe, 'I think I ran into her in one of the arcades. She found something that I'd dropped but I let her keep it.' They explained, omitting the fact that Isabelle had stolen something from them, instead saving her from any subsequent telling off.

'Did you win anything else?' The girl spoke directly to Glear, 'There's a lot in there—'

'Not now, adults talking.' Magnus dismissed her while Glear was fully prepared to talk about the collection they had accrued, 'I'm sorry about her, she isn't usually like this.' Magnus apologised, which visibly pained him to say. Clearly, he didn't do much of it in his line of work, 'Izzy come here! Leave the…' He hesitated, trying to figure out how to address Glear, who raised their eyebrow in amusement, 'Person.' He snapped after several seconds of thinking, 'Leave the person alone.' His response, and lack of attention to her, caused the young girl to scrunch her mouth up and puff out her cheeks in a childish rendition of anger. While Glear was awkwardly sat beside the young, overly familiar girl that they had never met before, thoughts finally decided to coalesce in their mind. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, bits of information connected to the events happening around them. Isabelle seemed to notice it too, staring at them with wide, hopeful eyes, swaying gently from side to side until Magnus jumped up from his seat in protest.

'If you can't behave then we're leaving. Come on!' He told her with a profound and unrivalled strictness that she reacted to with an even firmer resolve. Simultaneously, the thoughts and memories in Glear's mind pulled together to finally understand. Just before either of the adults could speak again, she suddenly ran outside with little regard for her own safety.

'She likes you, I don't know why, but she does. You're coming with me to find her.' Magnus demanded, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and storming out, heavy footsteps shaking the room. Glear, intrigued as to where this was going, followed along as quickly as their skin suit's restrictiveness would allow. Outside, the sky was turning black, streetlights flickering to life before their eyes. Visibility would soon be low and young Isabelle had disappeared. No sign of her outside the restaurant had led Magnus to believe she had run back into one of the shops or, again, an arcade, to play before everything closed for the night.

'Isabelle!' Magnus repeatedly called her name, with frustration more than worry, which indicated to Glear that this wasn't the first time she had run off. While he was occupied, they took in the surrounding scents for anything out of the ordinary, easily picking up the same artificial strawberry smell from earlier somewhere on the beach. Wanting to reach her before Magnus did, they separated themself from him, crossing the roads while shouting back.

'I'll go and check the beach, if I find her, I'll come and get you.'

'Tell her I want a word with her.' Came the reply. For someone whose own daughter was missing, he didn't seem to feel upset or worried about it at all, just annoyed that he had to go after her. Glear didn't have to go far, spotting Isabelle's silhouette sitting on an old stone staircase that went down to the shore, low tides lapping against the sands. Sniffing the air again, they picked up on a lack of sadness or anger from her. Rather, her mood was pleasant, enjoying the situation of getting adults to run around just because of her. Glear couldn't blame her, watching Magnus wander around aimlessly in the distance was an amusing sight.

'I've taught you well, but running away was a bit much, don't you think, Izra?' Glear said, leaning on the tall stone wall that kept pedestrians from falling down onto the beach below, making her look over her shoulder, unsurprised to see them, clumsily standing and brushing loose grains of sand from her dress, she climbed back to the pavement where they waited for her, actively ignoring the loud calls that Magnus was still making in the opposite direction.

'It worked though, didn't it, dad?' She asked, pleased with herself for the improvisation, 'Is he still shouting?' Izra added with an incredible sense of disdain for a child, visibly tired of the human man now that she was no longer required to act the part, 'Do I have to keep pretending to like him now? He's not very nice.'

'No, no, I think you've done enough of that, my little hatchling. Now, come here…' Glear said affectionately, placing an arm around her comparatively slight shoulders while she wrapped her own around them, as much as she could considering the difference in size, 'I can't believe you managed to trick me! I didn't even know it was you! You were very, very good.' They pulled her close with immense pride while she giggled at her success.

'Sorry for stealing from you earlier, by the way.'

'It's alright.'

'Can we hunt him down now?' Izra asked, looking up at Glear, who ruffled her hair and smiled, replying:

'I think it's about time we did. He's heading over anyway, look.' They pointed their free hand at the large silhouette of Magnus that was stomping back over to the two of them. Izra continued to hug their real parent even in the human man's presence, glancing at him with a smirk.

'I've been looking everywhere for you. You've put me through a lot of trouble today.' Magnus continued his stern and frustrated attitude, rather unfitting for a parent who had just found their missing child, Glear thought, judging him severely for it while he held out his hand to beckon his daughter to return. Izra, finished with playing the innocent, charming little girl she was forced to be for him, refused, stepping away from Glear once he reached them.

'I'm not going back with you.'

'I am your father, and you will do as I say!' He bellowed, at the end of his tether, seemingly not aware that he had raised his voice at who he was still under the impression was his own daughter.

'No you're not.' Izra returned, calmly, knowing that if the human man did try to do anything, that Glear wouldn't allow him to live. Magnus, confused and justifiably concerned, managed to get a good look into her eyes. Eyes that were suddenly devoid of any familial love she could have for him. What he saw in her eyes wasn't soullessness, but something that was no longer his daughter and it terrified him.

'What are you?' His voice trembled with the crushing fear of losing someone precious, 'What have you done to her?'

'If I told you, you wouldn't like it.' Izra said in a sing-song voice, a cruel streak to it, 'She was very scared when it happened. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed until she was dead!' She excitedly recounted the event without a hint of remorse, revelling in it. Her words sent a flood of rage through Magnus's soul, demanding she tell him everything. Instead, in demonstration, Izra began to laugh again. Turning from sweet, childlike giggling to spiteful cruelty, she lifted a hand to her forehead, raising the fringe from it to show the silver zip that ran across its length, beginning to tug on it. Streetlamps in the vicinity flickered and dimmed while strings of round LEDs that hung between them went out to be replaced with a crackling electric blue light that was barely contained behind the open teeth of the zip. Grinning devilishly, she pulled back the human scalp and pushed her head through the opening to reveal her true face: yellow-green skin that glistened with dampness, jet black eyes and short, sharp teeth that continued to smile while the rest of her followed shortly after. The human flesh fell to the floor with little effort on her part, showing that she was the same height as the human she had masqueraded as, coming up to Magnus's shoulder.

'What hellspawn are you?' Magnus asked, his body beginning to tremble while Izra stretched her claws after having them stuffed into human fingers the entire day, breathing a sigh of relief that she no longer had to be one.

'This adorable little "hellspawn" is my daughter, and I'd advise you not to insult her in my presence.' Glear placed a hand on her shoulder, leaning forwards and punctuating their words with an animalistic growl, 'If you know what's good for you.'

'This creature is your daughter!? How?' Magnus, in sheer disbelief, exclaimed to Glear. Shuffling back in fear of his own safety, his head whipped around for any sight of someone that could help him, but none were forthcoming, streets bare under the inky night sky. Izra's claws reached out for him, stopping just short of grasping around his thick arm to drag him back, the tips of her razor-sharp claws brushed against his sleeve, leaving traces of venom behind.

'Ah, must be some confusion because I'm still wearing this,' Glear concluded, removing their silver chained glasses, folding them up and tucking them away into a pocket ahead of time, 'Maybe I can clear things up for you.' In the same gesture as Izra performed, they also began to remove their disguise, lights flickering around them once more as they tore open their own embedded zip, pushing their hulking form from its prison. With more of a struggle, growling and hissing, they forced their head free with a gasping breath. Stretching out the neck of the suit and hauling out their arms shortly after, they flexed their talons, briefly pointing three yellowing claws at the human man before them. Coaxing the suit further down and over their monstrous gut, letting it drop to the floor and crumple in a heap, Glear's full, eight-foot figure was bigger and taller than their daughter. Towering above Magnus, they leered at him with a horrible smile as he cowered under a spotlight.

'I think this answers your question.' Glear padded towards him, slowly, vertical eyelids narrowing, 'Now, one from me,' they said, claws moving ominously as they spoke, 'Would you like to die where you stand, or take your chance down there?' Glear's large hand gestured out to the sands, a long stretch of beach that went for miles, indicating that they wanted him to run across it, to chase him down under the light of the full moon, 'Your choice. Take your time, no need to rush. It's going to end the same anyway.' They said with a casual tone, letting him pick his own demise as if it were easy. Reflecting on his own actions leading up to this point, and the sadistic choice laid out in front of him, he thought deeply.

'It's more fun if you try to escape.' Izra piped up, her childish glee making the statement sound even more menacing than it normally would, 'Hurry up and decide!' she added, petulantly.

'Izra, remember what I taught you about having patience?' Glear chided, turning back to Magnus, 'Have you decided yet?'

'Yes, I have. I'd rather chance my freedom than have the likes of you kill me without a fight. I didn't live this long without fighting for what I want!' Magnus confirmed his decision, which made Izra bounce up and down in place, hardly able to contain herself.

'Then run.' Glear ordered him, 'Outlast us, and you keep your life.' They briefly explained, knowing full well a man of his size and lifestyle wouldn't be able to make it as Magnus took off, rounding the corner to skid down the ramp that joined with the sprawling sands. Pouncing up onto the wall, the two sat back and observed him for a bit, finding his awkward steps across the sand entertaining, watching him almost fall a few times.

'He's not that good.' Izra commented, displeased with the older man's ability to give her a good chase, 'I feel sorry for him, he's not getting far.'

'Well, we tried. Come on, let's put him out of his misery.' Glear said, apathetic as the two of them jumped down to join him. Landing on all fours, Glear and Izra began their fairly easy pursuit, throwing clawfuls of sand behind them with each bounding leap that edged closer to clipping the prey's heels. It didn't take long for the Slitheen to catch up to his inexperienced self.

'You're not doing well at this!' Izra shouted, running as fast as she could to take a swipe at Magnus's legs, cutting through the fabric at his ankle, staggering him as he recoiled from the sudden shock of having his right leg slashed and losing precious lifeblood. Limping slightly, dragging it behind him through the sand, his pitiful display made Izra hold back until Glear caught up with her again, as both of them could close the distance with ease. She observed Magnus's injury with interest; if neither of them got him, the venom her claws had scratched into him certainly would, even now he was slowing with its presence in his bloodstream.

'This must be the most exercise he's had in his life!' Glear replied to her, mocking the man for his lack of athleticism, 'We should congratulate him on the effort.'

'Congratulate him by turning him into confetti.' Izra muttered under her breath, sick of the man.

'No, we still need his skin. Intact.' Glear told her, much to her annoyance as she grumbled at the fact that she would not be tearing a human limb from limb this night.

'How long—' Magnus caught his breath saying the first thing he could muster for a while, feverish symptoms falling over him, 'How long do I have to keep running for?'

'Until you give up. Which won't be too long.' Came Glear's reply from somewhere in the darkness. Magnus couldn't tell how far they were, only that, when he dared to look back, two green shapes were following him. Grabbing his leg, a jolt of pain shot through it as his wound pulsed with agony. Breaking through it, adrenaline rushing around inside of him, he forced himself to continue, running through the rising tide with splashes of saltwater ringing out with every step slowed by the thick, mudlike slurry beneath. Gait worsening with each inch he gained over them, his run slowed to a fast walk, intermittently stumbling as the venom took root and spread.

'Please, no more…' Magnus weakly uttered, knees weak under him, collapsing to the ground, able to barely turn himself over as the monsters stood over his prone body, their shadows covering him as he whimpered feebly in their presence, 'I…can't.'

'You did last longer than I thought you would,' Glear crouched down, surveying Magnus's body for any other injuries aside from the cut on his ankle, none to be found, 'Still in good condition, surprised your heart didn't give out.' They told him like he was nothing more than a piece of meat to be slaughtered, 'Iz, would you do the honours? He is yours.' They slowly raised themself back up and stepped aside to let Izra stand front and centre. With a final laugh of excitement, the young Slitheen bared her claws and struck Magnus cleanly across the forehead, his last sight before eternal darkness befell him. Blood, rich red in hue, ran down his temples, soaking into the sand under his head until it resembled a colosseum floor.

Human corpse hauled over their shoulder, Glear's re-disguised self trudged back to their accommodation with Izra in tow, herself having done the same as a precaution in case any night owls noticed them through a window, which the young Slitheen wasn't too happy about—complaining all the way home to her caregiver about how her skin suit was too small on the way there, tugging at their arm and shirt hem until she had their attention. Glear had refused to comment on the matter until they couldn't take it anymore, and just as the two of them were getting into the flat, they finally addressed her out-of-proportion concerns.

'It'll just be the sand that's still stuck to you messing with the compression field, once you've washed it off, you should be fine.' Glear explained to her, a response she wasn't expecting after imagining how the conversation would go and thinking it would end much differently, preferably with her getting to hunt down another human being to replace it. With an exaggerated sigh, she glanced up with wide, sympathetic eyes that any parent would be won over by instantly.

Glear, however, was wise to her tricks and refused to fall to such folly that easily.

'Don't give me that look, you've already had one hunt today and it's way past your bedtime. I'll think about it. No promises.' Glear pointed her in the direction of the bathroom, indicating she should go and wash the sand she had brought in with her down the drain, 'Get yourself washed and ready for bed.'

'How am I supposed to sleep if I'm not comfy?' Izra argued once more, used to getting her way, 'I won't sleep unless everything's right!' She proclaimed before doing as she was told. The momentary calm allowed Glear to finish what was supposed to be a quick job, removing the skin from the rest of itself on top of the coffee table. It had, in total, taken up the entire evening and nighttime hours that they could have used for themself. To enjoy more not-quite gambling with copper coins and hope.

'At least she's here.' They thought, glad that they and their daughter would be able to spend some one-to-one quality time together, 'We have a long week ahead of us, a lot to do from the looks of it.' Wordlessly, they picked up a paper brochure that had a photograph of the local clifftop castle, crumbled and half buried, a piece of human history still present after everything that had happened to them, an attraction that would be sure to give them an extra edge on the next trivia night. They would also, however, need to have a word with whoever had allowed Izra to be with a target by herself, especially when they hadn't been informed. Glear wasn't angry with her about it, it wasn't her fault. But the others should have known better.

'I'm done.' Izra said, breaking Glear away from their thoughts, walking into the living room in fluffy human pyjamas and cocooned in a dressing gown. Visibly, she was in a far better mood. Glear noticed that she hadn't wasted much time in rooting around in the other rooms, as those clothes had been placed in the drawers of a smaller guest bedroom, some human effects brought along on the off-chance she would be available after finishing what Glear had originally assumed was an unrelated mission of her own.

'Was I right?' Glear asked as she snuggled up next to them, resting her head against their side like they were a pillow. Izra could attest that her dad was as soft as one at any rate. The fat on their body was good for something, at least.

'...Maybe.' Izra replied, stifling a yawn, pulling the dressing gown over herself in lieu of any blanket, 'I'm a little bit tired.'

'I'm not surprised, after the day you've had.' Glear smiled softly while she nestled into them, wanting to ask her something, but unsure if they should, considering her current fatigue, 'Iz, I know that you've had a fun and tiring day, but I have to know: who asked you to go on this mission?'

'Nobody did.' Izra said quietly, 'I wanted to do it myself, to…' She stopped mid-sentence, not knowing if she should continue, but the understanding and care-filled look on Glear's face prompted her to speak further, 'To show you that I can do it, that I'm ready to go out there and help.'

'You didn't have to do all this just to prove to me you were ready!' Glear told her, shocked that something they had said or done had convinced her that she needed to prove herself, 'I'm sorry that we don't get to go out that much together. I'll work on it. I promise.'

'Okay.' Izra yawned again, more pronounced, 'Love you.' She mumbled, drifting off into a well-earned slumber.

'I love you too.'