Extraordinary pain.
.
Just dragging one leg after the other felt like a task worthy of the legendary Minoan hero, the one forced to complete a whole series of little orders - difficult beyond belief - for whatever reason. Andy would ask W to help him remember the name, if not for the fact that she spent nearly all of her life illiterate. He sighed in defeat, then slung her arms further over his own, keeping a steady hold on the fiend's body. She felt like a little water pump. The kinda machinery they'd use when camping outside, near some ancient well. The many mercenaries of Kazdel liked to play pranks on their colleagues and potential competitors, so the wells almost always certainly retained some sort of parting gift left by the last group who had the pleasure of using them – be it a few scrapings of live originium, maybe some industrial residue that flooded the underground tunnels with ori-slugs, a home-brewn poison of sorts, or just straight up liters of piss. You never knew what to expect when sinking a pump deep into the dark abyss at the bottom, much less what would come out the rubber hose when fully submerged. It'd take hours for all the disgusting mucus to filter through and disappear in the nearest patch of grass, but eventually clear water always flowed. With the pump hard at work, buzzing and pumping, Andy would often catch himself staring down into the eye of the well, gazing into nothingness and expecting something to gaze at him back. Not a pair of brain-dead slugs, or a bloated corpse, but maybe something else. Then W would stoll over and casually lift his legs over the edge, joking about how Hedley ordered her to dispose of him.
That's what he remembers most. The pump and W. Now W was like the pump – buzzing softly with gentle groans of displeasure, pumping blood out of each little crevice and imperfection on her milky, pale skin. Just before entering the large, double door, alluringly displaying the word "CAFETERIA" above, he straightened her up, patted down her shoulders, and wiped a stream of drool mixed with blood lazily sliding along her cheek. She glanced back at him.
Her unyielding competitive spirit couldn't even be bothered to wake up and terrorize Andy at this hour. It slept peacefully beneath all the plum-purple patches of hurt, instead letting her weariness slip behind the steering wheel. She slumped face-first into his chest and muttered something that barely resembled the word "chair." Her words, muffled by the fluff of Andy's sweater, still somehow reached his ears and set a clear course of action.
Inside the cafeteria, many new faces brewed a storm. A little whirlwind in a bottle, a wave of flesh and sounds in a room. Many tables that stretched for many meters, like fallen trees – the foundation to all the social butterflying taking place. Andy, with W still motionlessly buried in his sweater, "excuse me'd" his way through a rowdy crowd of Sarkaz guys, all armored up and itching for a brawl. At the sight of the fallen angel, they parted like a military funeral procession, instead of saluting, all eager to help him carry the girl onward. Surprised by the kind words, Andy shot them all a bewildered, wide-eyed look, like a fawn in the headlights, then wordlessly carried on. Both on the left and the right, faces turned to glance at the miserable duo – some bearded, sunglasses wearing macho man stood up to offer a hand, but Andy shushed him away with a set of the most polite head nodding he could muster and some "It's okay, she's just tired" sprinkled atop. A boonie hat sporting Sarkaz next to him offered a helping pair of horns as well, eager to lead the two to the medical wind, or at least a place to sit, but Andy waved him off. At least wanted to wave him off, before the sight of a massive rifle equipped with an equally impressive scope crossed his eyes. It gleamed in the LED lights, it glowed and it glowed bright. As if reunited with a long lost friend, the metal called out to him like a childhood friend running in for a warm hug. Utterly dumbstruck, his brain ceased to produce any commands for a moment, hearing only the soft whispers of disapproval coming from the barrel of his own gun, lazily slung over his back. He stopped in place, making W curse and fall to the floor.
"... Is that?" He began, watching the guys' confused faces. They exchanged a glance, then Boonie reached down to help W, but she managed to lift herself up and punched Andy hard in the stomach. "OW…?!"
"Why'd you drop me, the hell? I asked for a chair."
Andy spat some blood. It helped paint the floor a little more bright and happy, more than the monochromatic grays that ruled these halls. "... F-Fuck, that hurt."
"Gonna hurt you some more if you keep doing that." She hummed, yet leaned down to check up on his half-bent posture. "... You okay?"
"Are you two always like that?" One of the men asked, baring surprise through a raise of their brow, above the unwavering line of their sunglasses. The other let out an amused chuckle at the antics.
"... Think that's just how they make them nowadays, Ace." He summed the mercs up, with his bottomless lenses reflecting their wide eyes and bruised faces. "What a headache you two will be, huh."
"Only if you ask for it." W grumbled. Andy saw her shoulders slumping, so he offered himself as a stand, which she gladly fell onto.
"Look, she's just… Yeah, we're like that." Maybe an explanation would help, but his mind was in no state to be explaining himself or W especially at that moment. He drew a shaky hand towards the rifle-wearing devil, eager to keep up even the slightest bit of a positive facade. "... Andy, by the way. Contemporary operator Ricketts." He quickly corrected himself with a tired smile.
"Contemporary operator this or that, always Lawdog to me." W's sleepy voice bubbled from her lips. Andy stuck his extended hand over her lips, a feeble attempt to save face. The two jerked their own fingers back, unsure of what to do at that point.
"Yeah, yeah, that. Anyways, nice to meet you. Say, that rifle you got on your back, is that, uh…"
"This?" Boonie carefully removed the holy lead spitter and examined it with a bit of a proud smirk. "... Just a little something for this, or that. My own contingency, one could say."
"Oh, that's his pride and joy you're looking at, Andy." The man referred to as "Ace" threw in, elbowing his buddy gently. "Would take an army to make him part ways with that thing."
"Army and a half. An army's already tried, and I'm still here, still with my pneumatic bolter." He chuckled back, still laser focused on each detail of the fine craft. At the word "pneumatic", Andy deflated nearly immediately, his eager, almost childish smile falling entirely.
"Oh, pneumatic. Pressure, pipes, that kinda stuff…?"
"Uh-huh." The Sarkaz nodded. "No arts needed, just your eyes and some intuition."
"No dust, no nothing…" Andy mumbled, more to himself than any other part of the world. A meek breeze passed his ears, leaving the words "See? No dust, no power. Weak, pathetic excuse. Shameless imitator. Everything from dust, everything to dust." festering in his canals. Without a proper goodbye, he grabbed W's sleepy self and left the two scratching their heads at his questionable behavior. With his eyes mindlessly feeling out the road onward, Andy glanced around all the tables' contents, the trays filled with actual food and eager faces talking, sharing their burdens and joys, enjoying it together like a proper team should. A far cry from the sessions of eating lukewarm "salt soup", hobbled up under a blanket on some crate, peering out at his "colleagues" to make sure they weren't trying to pull a fast one and snatch his dinner. Right before he was about to fall asleep, a pair of strong arms grabbed him tight by the shoulders and planted on a chair. W followed suit, letting out a little "eep?"
.
"... Careful, "Operator." Five more steps, you'd be lying face down in someone's oats."
.
Andy glanced up, forcing his weary eyes open. Low and behold, a familiar face decided to grow from a pair of heavily armored shoulders and stare him down with a rather unenthusiastic gleam to his eyes. Hedley pushed forward a tray with something somewhat resembling a plate of meatbeast goulash served over white rice. Andy stared and stared, silently mesmerized by the meal, as Hedley spoke up. "... Here. Think I'm done for the night, anyway. Talking to that doctor lady has taken most of my appetite away, anyway. Like a germ under a microscope, couldn't even–..."
His words were unfortunately cut by the sound of cutlery clanking and sauce flying. Slurping and munching filled the air, as Andy threw himself onto the poor tray and began a vile, violent ritual of devouring its contents at the speed of light. The noise broke W from her slumber, and Ines from her constant neck-craning, and scanning the entire cafeteria like a water sprinkler on overdrive.
"... Someone's hungry." She uttered, with a hint of disgust in her voice. Andy shrugged, busy with shoving a rather large portion of meat-sauce soaked rice down his mouth hole.
"Look, it's…" Here, it took him some time to swallow. "... not my problem we haven't eaten the entire day. Cut me some slack, yeah?"
"... Yeah." She drew the word out, slowly. W, now awake and fully conscious of her own empty stomach, poked Andy in the ribs.
"You said we. WE. Plural."
"... Yeah?"
"YEAH?"
"So what?" He narrowed his eyes. A hefty sum of fried flour goop oozed from his lips and fell to the tray. W sighed.
"So I'm hungry too, moron. And not in the mood to fight over that tray, for once."
"Oh. OH!"
Something in his brain begged for sleep. Some other piece begged for a meter long roll of bandages and maybe an ice cold bag over the head. Another one begged for painkillers, another for a warm hug, and finally, a last one begged him not to argue with W. He slid the tray over and offered a gentle pet to her shoulder. "Eat up."
W didn't need another invitation. Amidst the sound of her slurping and munching, Ines drew a heavy sigh and shook her head in a manner that couldn't quite decide whether it wanted to convey disapproval or disgust.
"Way to keep up the "fiend" stereotype. Real classy." She muttered, glancing around the Babel operators surrounding the four. Not a single one seemed to mind, all of them either busy with their own trays or lost in conversations. W stuck her middle finger up and kept shlorping.
"What do you care, anyway? It's not like you have to worry about it at all. You're exempt from it. I am, too. Kinda. Halfsies, at least." Andy asked out of genuine, sleepy curiosity, which earned him a stern glare from the Caprinae, and a rather amused eyebrow raise from Hedley.
"Shut. Shh. Quiet. Lock that chatterbox of yours. Not every single person around has to know–..."
"Know what?" W perked up, mouth clean with sauce. A few dirt-patches of her clean skin dared poke through. "That you're not Sarkaz? Everyone knows, though. Every single Sarkaz does."
"Shut–..."
"Hey. Hey, bud. Contemporary op "W", nice to meet you." W nudged some Sarkaz medic by her left, then politely forced her hand into his. "Did you know that ball of nerves over there's not Sarkaz? Give her a good look. Again."
"..." Ines could only sit and glare, her face flared with red. As much as her fingers itched to pull a sleeve of throwing knives and fill W with holes, her current, week long lease forbade her violent temptations. That, and Hedley's heavy hand on her shoulder.
"She's not?" The medic raised a brow, then slid his eyes along her horns. "... Damn. Could've fooled me, really. Best not to imitate something you wouldn't wanna be, though." With that little finish, turned and dug his spoon back into a steaming bowl of fowl-soup. W kept her eyes on him, slightly disappointed by the exchange.
"... Anyway. I'm sure the second guy would guess right off the bat."
"You're a bitch." Ines seeped through gritted teeth. W shrugged it off and bit down on a forkful of rice.
"... Takes one to know one."
"Knock it off, you two. For once." Hedley stepped in, just as Ines' fingers inched dangerously close to a belt of cold steel. "It's the day's exertion talking, no need to be jumping at each other's throats now. There's bigger fins to fry."
"Like what?" Andy asked, lazily watching W devour the meal. "We're staying the week and then what? Back to running bounties?"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you." W slurped up the very last bits of goulash and dropped the tray, before nonchalantly wiping her lips with a sleeve. "... Lawdog wants to stay."
"You want to stay? Here?" Ines raised a brow. "With THESE people? I never took you for a loyalist."
"I'm not, it's just that… I mean, look. Look at this." His arms swept the room without much order. "These people, this food, this… comfort of it all. I mean, maybe if all that training nonsense goes away, if we get actual experience and stay around as some little reserve op team…"
"You want to stay in Her Majesty's pocket. Like a rat in the pantry." Hedley summed up, to which W shrugged and leaned most of her weight on the table, her arms acting as a makeshift pillow.
"That's what I'm saying, yeah." She mumbled.
"Not like a rat, I mean, it's just that… don't you think this is a little more certain than living each day like our last? When was the last time we got a chance to sit down like this and chat?"
"Long ago. As it should be." Ines hissed. "Look, you wanna stay, that's on you. We're taking the week lease and ditching, I can't bother staying with all these people around. Just–... If you SAW what I have, you wouldn't wanna stick around either. That… THING? That creature that pulled us from a ditch and dragged here, that–..."
"Anton?" Andy perked up. "What about him?"
"Anton? It has a name?"
"Yeah, it's… nevermind. Go on."
"He's not normal. Far from it. All the people in high command here have their brains scrambled the wrong way, and you don't even need to read their shadow to notice. Not like I'd dare." She scoffed.
" 'Cause you'd go blind, lamb." W muttered between her arms.
"..." Ines decided to ignore her remark, closing her eyes for a few seconds to let the annoyance laced with anger filter out. "... Anyway. Just talking to that "Kal'tsit" woman today, it felt like conversing with a machine. A very life-like one, but still a machine. And her buddy-buddy, the one they just call "Doctor", they were…"
"... Completely fine." Hedley cut in, for whatever reason. "... I do agree, the Feline did seem slightly off, but I can't really say a single bad word about the Doctor. Kept inviting us to stay for longer, talked more like a victim of the battlefield rather than someone who looms above it all and watches. Nearly as nice as Her Majesty, I'd go as far as to say."
"Sentimentalist." Ines shot him a glare.
"That's weird, Anton told us they were a prick…" Andy pointed out, the memory of their meeting a little blurry, covered by a thick curtain of blood.
"Do they seem like a prick? First glances are usually misleading." His hardened fingers crossed the air and reached towards a destination somewhere behind Andy's shoulder. He turned along with them, ogling past the stuffed, talking faces to catch a glimpse of black and blue sitting at the very end. With the visor slightly lifted, a pair of lips gently tugged upwards peered from behind, spewing words unreachable for the angel's ears. With a few Sarkaz around, most of them parts of the medical wing Andy had the displeasure of visiting earlier that day, the Doctor sat and chatted away, seemingly a completely different individual when in the company of people willing to listen.
"... You'd think they'd eat alone, in their office. Or something." Ines pointed out.
"Yeah, 'cause everyone on Terra has to be a people-hating shut in like you." W snorted in return, which earned her a stern look. She flicked her tongue out, then fell back into her little arm-nest.
"I mean, they don't seem… But Anton said…" Andy tried connecting the dots, yet it all came up blank. Ines cut in.
"That "Anton" of yours reeked of death. Not in the way that I, or W, or you, or… or Hoederer does, but different. We're like scented candles, while he's the real thing. And that's disgusting."
"Your point?"
"That maybe you shouldn't trust him so blindly?" Her brow once more rose at his ignorance and outright stupidity. "Who knows who these people will employ to tug the scales of war in their favor? He could be some devoted sociopath, you don't know that."
"Devoted sociopath, aye? Pretty sure we steer clear 'a those guys, naw worries."
A voice rang out from behind her, surprisingly thick in its accent and cheerful laziness. A few faces turned at the sound, some of them quickly overcome with knowing smirks, others instead rolling their eyes, then going back to continuing enjoying their downtime. Ines jumped at the sound, then flicked her head back like a wise fowl of the night, nearly getting whiplash in the process. Anton stood behind, as if molded into form suddenly from nothingness.
"Y-..." She swallowed her confusion. "Don't they teach you people not to sneak up on colleagues?"
"They don't, they don't. But you're right, luv, my bad." He offered a little bow, then extended a hand over to her and Hedley. "... Evening, by the way. Don't believe we got properly acquainted yet."
The two of them glanced at each other, then carefully shook his palms, which felt surprisingly soft and gentle under their own calloused skin – like balm on their burning worries.
"Not properly, no. We offer thanks for the save, though. Heard it was you who dragged us out of that hellhole." Hedley spoke up, making a haphazard effort to stand and seem at least a little professional. The tips of his fiery red hair rose far higher than Newmaker's fluffy Feline ears.
"Might've been me. Me and Uri, that is." He nodded back, flashing him a wide grin, then pointing to Andy and W. "However much I'd love 'ta invite you all for a cup 'a char and some crumpets, I still need these two accommodated and snug for the night, which I…" He sighed, then lowered his voice. "... Might've forgotten 'bout after our little training sesh. Oh well."
Andy elbowed W in the side. She grumbled, then rose to glare at him through a veil of sleepiness. "... What? What do you-... Oh, fuck."
Seeing Anton's stupid mug grinning down at her, she groaned in exasperation, then stood up, following Andy. "... Not you again."
"Hello me, it's me again, uh-huh." He shot back with a chuckle. "C'mon you two, bed's waitin'."
"Oh, but about the training–..." Hedley tried his true and tested negotiation technique of standing in the opposition's way, with all 190 centimeters of himself, until they submitted, but Anton simply slipped right past him, his steps nimble and quicker than the merc's eyes.
"Take it up with Kal, why dontcha? I'm just a messenger 'ere, yeah?"
"Wait, but-..."
Before more words could fall from his lips, Andy and W had their collars lifted by a pair of rather large armor gauntlets connected to nothing, but floating effortlessly through the air. Amidst their "Ow!'s" and "Aw!'s", Hedley and Ines could only stare at the two being dragged away out of the cafeteria, heads turning and murmuring arising in their wake, gazes washing off Anton like soap with a high pressure blasting from a hose. Passing by the Doctor, Newmaker stopped, sighed, deliberately sent them a polite bow, then went on his way. Seemingly genuinely surprised, they responded with an uneasy wave and an asking glance towards the two mercs being dragged behind. "Doesn't really seem like a prick", Andy noticed, then fell flat onto the floor, courtesy of the metal hand dragging him onward.
.
.
.
.
"Can you stop!?"
.
"L-... Fuck's sake, let go! Stop!"
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Sleepy whines of pain and disgruntlement filled the hallways. Anton threw them a half assed handwave, hurrying Uri's gauntlets in the process.
"You two havin' a normal one back there?"
"What does that even… You're gonna tear my sweater!" Andy held tight onto the hand that led, his meek little legs barely keeping up the pace.
"Yeah, you're gonna tear Lawdog's sweater! The hell else am I supposed to use as a pillow when I'm bored?" W chimed right after, simply allowing the ghostly Wendigo claws to drag her down the hallway. A few operators clad in heavy chest rigs and fitting berets passed them by, throwing curious, almost amused glances towards Anton. He waved them off with a polite smile.
"... Look, I'm just tryin' to be a little more productive with ya two. Quiet hours start in two, and I was hopin' to get some proper soloin' in before Kal threatens to rip me head off."
"W-... Your guitar's more important than my sweater…?" Andy asked in disbelief. Newmaker stopped at once, then turned to face him.
"... Absolutely no offence to you, gov, but my guitar is more important than you and me combined, Andy-boy." He said, but his voice remained dull of the usual lazy cheer. Neither could he muster a smile. "Than this whole entire landship and everyone on board."
"...?" Andy blinked. "Okay? Is it… is it a limited, uh… limited craft, or…?"
"What's a limited craft?" W perked up, lying face down on the floor.
"No, it's– it's not a limited, it's just…" Anton sighed, then brushed his hair back and welcomed some much needed color back onto his blank face. "It's got HEART, alright? It's not some, some instrument, it's a piece of history. Real history, real, ancient–..."
He stopped, taken by surprise, as a tiny bit of force latched onto his sleeve and tugged downwards. Turning to glance at the source, his eyes met a pair of tall, fuzzy Cautus ears, then immediately lit up.
"Heeee-eeey kiddo. What're you still up for at this hour, huuuh?" His voice softened to the consistency of near mush, taking on a much warmer, gentler tone. As the Cautus girl ran her eyes from his face to the two mercs being dragged behind, Andy and W waved at her from the floor.
"Um…" She started, fidgeting a little with her hands. "... Doctor Kal'tsit told me that, um… that I should look for you."
"Oh yeah? Auntie Kal'tsit wants something from me?" Anton crouched down to meet the girl's cerulean eyes, his own filled with nothing but gooey piles of melting softness and fluff. "Did she tell you what, exactly?"
"Not really…"
"Of course she didn't, that little bugger." He chuckled and affectionately ruffled her hair, which in turn elicited a tiny, girlish giggle to bubble from her lips. "So I betcha she's waiting all snug and comfy in her office for us to visit, hmm?"
"Y-Yes, probably…" She muttered after all the giggles subsided, then frowned a bit and pointed at the mercs with her ears. "... And there was also something else, but I'm not sure if I can tell with, um… with other people around."
"Oh, no worries, luv." Anton gave her a gentle pat to the shoulder, then snapped his fingers. Uri's hands dragged the two close and dropped them off right by the girl's snowy dress. "... These here two are some of our new workin' buddies. Colleagues, if you will. Real proper lads, too."
"Uh-huh…" W muttered, gathering herself off the steel floor. "... Real stars in the Kazdelian merc-underground."
"Oi, oi, oi…" He stuffed her antennae back to shut her up, not to spoil the kids' ears with such violent blasphemies as the horrors of the merc market. "That means they help good people do good stuff, m'kay?"
"Okay…" The Cautus repeated, slowly giving them both curious, questioning looks. "... I'm, um… my name's Amiya." She added after a moment, reaching out to touch their hands. The morons exchanged a glance, then accidentally bumped fingers, both eager to shake the kid's palm first. After a little back and forth, under Anton's blankly cheerful stare and Amiya's confused eyes, W grabbed her hand first and gave it a surprisingly gentle shake.
"And I'm W! Met us both today, remember?" She warbled, then shoved Andy's hand into the kid's. "And this is Andy. A-ndy, but you can just say "moron." Or Lawdog."
"Okay, maybe let's not teach the impressionable ten year old any Sankta slurs…" Anton coughed, Andy slapped the back of W's head with his tail.
"We did meet, y-yes." Amiya nodded, having shook both their hands. "... But is… is "W" a name? I'm not sure…"
"Oh, sure it is." She scoffed. "As real as yours, or Andy's, mm? I can even write it down for you! I can even write down your name. Or a sentence." With genuine pride in her voice, she boasted her writing skills. Anton sought an explanation in Andy's eyes, but he seemed just as proud of her as she was.
"That's, um… that's nice…" The girl replied, only fueling W's joy-filled, gleaming eyes. "Mr. Newmaker…?"
"Oh, "Uncle Anton" is fine, lass."
"Uh, okay. Uncle Anton, I think she wanted you to talk to the Doctor."
"... The doc, aye?" His voice slid down an octave or two. "... Well, if Auntie Kal'tsit wants me to do that, who am I to say no, right?"
Amiya eagerly nodded in response, and once his gaze swept the corridor, W and Andy joined in, bobbing their heads along in agreement.
"So let's get to it, ya rodent. C'mon, I promised to show you how to play, 'member?" He jumped up, then patted the girl on the head. She gave another nod and grinned back.
"But doctor Kal'tsit will get mad again…"
"Then I guess we're gonna have to annoy her a little, won't we? You really took to the violin last time, ain't ya?"
As the two started walking away, Amiya threw him an overly pleased look. "It sounds nice… and I like how the strings feel against my fingers."
"Then I may just have to present you with one, 'aven't I?"
Bouncing in her wide open, excited eyes, were the silhouettes of W and Andy, just standing about in the hallway, silently watching their guide leaving them to fend for themselves. Anton sighed and pointed towards a door to their right.
"Ya two rays 'a sunshine can get yourselves comfy in there. Real swanky room fit for two, I bet you'll be just about tickled pink once you settle. You need me to show you how to open the door?"
They shook their heads.
"Great. Nigh-night, then. See ya two tomorrow, lovebirds. Abosh. C'mon." With that little nudge, he took Amiya's tiny hand and led her away, babbling all the way about fishing and salted caramel ice cream of all things.
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...
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With a click and a dream, the door came undone. Parted like a Lateran gate that ascends high into the marble sky above, leaving behind a view of clear perfection, the city open to all who felt the indescribable need to visit and gawk at the high-rise church towers and sprawling infrastructure of gold and white. Before their eyes, however, lay not a city bathed in the soft gleam of sunshine, but a simple, medium sized room. Not too big, not too small, fitted with a space reserved for what could only be a bathroom to the side. Neither Andy or W had the pleasure of using one indoors in quite a while, yet their eyes weren't drawn to it in the slightest. Past the cupboards and perfectly minimalistic drawers, the wardrobes built into the walls and floor to ceiling mirror, two beds inhabited the room on either side – one, situated under an empty bookshelf, and the other…
.
… Under a wide, open window, that spilled the moons' soft gleam inside. Far away from the pillow, in the legs of the bed.
.
"..." W and Andy exchanged just one, tired look. Their eyes met, gray against apricot orange. Tails swooped the ground, with a sense of anticipation rising in the slightly chilly air. They stared at the other for just a moment longer, before throwing themselves both like a bunch of feral animals onto the bed beneath the window. Their bodies hit the soft mattress, their fingers and nails dug into each other's skin – mutually assured pain and hurt, groans of violent desperation and need, the need to claim the better bed as their own.
"F-... Fuck off, I was here first! Just piss off, it's mine!"
"Mine! Y-... Stop biting! Don't bite me, you fucking loon! Get off the bed or I'll strangle you with my tail. I will, I promise!"
Andy adhered to his words and grasped onto his tail, as W squirmed and wriggled between his legs wrapped around her waist, trying her best to reach behind and claw his face off. He managed to wrap the leather-worm around her neck like a cable, then pulled as hard as he could, effectively squeezing the breath from her lungs. She spat a bunch of phlegm onto the clean sheets and fell down with him into the fluffy softness of the mattress, grasping onto the tail and trying to somehow stop it from choking the life out of her. Even despite being far away, resting calmly against a wall, Andy's coach gun kept whispering thoughts of pure murder into his brain, eagerly anticipating the moment the devil drew her last breath and left Andy alone with his dreamed up bed. Only when her face went a little purple, she let go and punched the mattress a few times, as if indicating his victory. Andy let go, triumphantly smirking.
"F-... Gods… Gods, y-you're an actual fucking subhuman…" She muttered, coughing, bent in half over the edge of the bed. "Y-You're the worst. You're the absolute worst, I hate you so damn much…"
"Y-Yeah, likewise. Likewise. Told you to just drop it." Andy spat back, laid out flat on the bed, chest heaving from exertion. "You should've just listened."
"Fuck you." W shot back and punched herself in the stomach to get a pile of phlegm unstuck from the walls of her lungs. A fit of violent coughing followed. Seeing her struggles, Andy grumbled and mumbled, but eventually crawled over to her side and helped the cough subside with a few confident "love-taps" to her back. W wiped a trail of snot from her nose, then sighed.
"... I hate you so much."
"I know."
"What do you even need the window for? You don't–... You don't have needs. You don't need it."
"I smoke. At least I can smoke when you're sleeping, so I don't have to hear all that "lung cancer" bullshit. And I'm not smoking with your legs in the way."
"Just say you're suicidal. There's cheaper and easier ways to kill yourself than smoking, you know. I'm one of them."
"I know you are." He smirked a little and nudged her in the ribs. "... Why do YOU want the window so bad?"
W almost smiled at the nudge, then fell dull once again at the question. With her soft, uncharacteristically unfocused and sleepy eyes, she gazed down at her own lap, holding onto her tail and brushing the tip gently with her thumb.
"... Why not? No reason."
"You said you had "needs." Andy pointed out in accordance with her earlier words. Throughout the months, he's learned to pick up on the things she says and then use them against her. "... What's up with that?"
"There's no needs. You're imagining things, again."
"I'm imagining things?"
"Yeah. Like your stupid… stupid "gun voice", or whatever. When you told me you can "hear that shotgun talking." It's early onset schizophrenia, I've seen it before."
Andy let out a snort, but W seemed genuinely serious for once. He ceased any further laughter.
"... Maybe I am imagining things, then."
"Of course you are." She scoffed. A moment later, she was already standing over him, judging with her gaze and crossed arms. "... You're always just imagining things."
.
"..."
.
Andy sat and watched, as she crossed the room with a few wobbly steps and jumped into the second bed, snuggling under the sheets with a sense of urgency. He couldn't see her face, only her back, as she turned away from him, towards the wall. Just the sight of her rising and falling antennae remained, as the red twigs kept tugging up and down, as if swayed by the gentle wind coming in from the window. That same window they fought over so carelessly.
.
"..."
.
Moments later, she fell asleep. He sat and listened to her soft breaths, the sounds invoking a sort of melting warmth inside of him. With each tiny intake of air that flew past her lips, his heart grew more and more mushy, like Lateran gelato left in the sun for far too long. In and out. Her back betrayed nothing, not a single emotion, yet he knew she had to be sleeping soundly. Usually, whenever she'd experience a nightmare, he'd hear her tossing and turning in bed, shuffling around the sheets and producing tiny "tchk's" and groans of displeasure. She'd do it quite often. Far too often. Every single time it happened, with each concerning sound grew his need to leave his bed and crawl under the blanket by her side, pull an arm around her shoulders and gently hug her tight. Whenever her antennae or tail perked up, curled in fear or helplessly wandered in search of any lighthouse to guide them back towards all that was certain, he wanted to take them into his hands and hold until the end of time, until the nightmares parted, the storms that plagued her mind ceased to exist, and only the familiar, calm, open waters remained. He caught himself thinking again, how it would feel to hold her at night, with each of her little breaths tickling his neck with their warm and home-y solace. A perpetual warmth machine, ran by affection and something else, something he couldn't quite explain. His coach gun wanted to help, help muffle the mushiness and set his mind back on course towards spreading mutually assured destruction within the world, but he simply couldn't take his thoughts away from her.
It was the middle of the night. He couldn't even tell when or how he managed to fall asleep, but he did. Cuddled up nicely under the sheets, his body must have shut down by itself when faced with one of the toughest opponents it had to ever face in the entirety of its not-so-lengthy run – a warm, overly comfortable bed. His face felt cold, played with by the chilly breeze hailing from outside, along with the quiet hum of machinery hard at work, sweating oil and drinking ori-fuel between rounds of spinning cogs and pumping pistons. Andy had actually no idea how a machine this size might function.
"...?"
He tried to move his legs but couldn't. Something held them in place hard, like a pair of industrial pincers. He glanced away from the all-encompassing darkness that filled the room and eyed the perp, the cause of his immobility.
"..."
In the moons' glow, a soft ball of fluff – black and white, red and apricot – sat quietly, gazing dreamily at the stars sprinkled over the blackened sky high above. Like moth to a flame, her eyes sought out the certain familiarity of the pale black yonder, lost through and through in the nothingness. It wasn't the first time he caught her staring at the moons without a reason. It wasn't the first time she sat hypnotized by the nightly glow.
He never asked why. Never prodded into her reasons, or tried digging through her brain to drag an answer out himself. He always let it happen, always curious, but not curious enough to risk losing a finger while poking the bear. Tonight was different, though. That night, she invaded his personal space. He couldn't sleep like that, for Law's sake. Not with her on his legs.
Slowly, he tugged his own feet from beneath her knees and sat up. To shoo her away like a little kitten would be the preferred cause of action. Take a slipper, throw it at her, watch her hiss but eventually crawl back into her bed. That would've been perfect.
.
Instead, he shuffled from beneath the sheets. It was cold. They should've probably figured out how to turn the heating on the day before, but they didn't.
They didn't, so Andy grabbed a blanket and silently slid over, just barely next to her. Their shoulders met, barely acknowledging the other's existence. With long, graceful eights cut across the cold air, her tail kept moving past his eyes, barely visible under the cover of the night. Andy sat on his knees, imitating W, and simply watched.
.
Stared up at the moons.
.
The twin moons high above. A pair of lovers glancing back down at Terra, the exact opposite of themselves. Where all that was violent got to live out its deepest fantasies, where no day could go without a soul lost – a concept so foreign to the moons, so alien and terrifying. Andy stared at the empty shells, the headlights of the night. His gray eyes were overcome with many things – most of them, he couldn't even understand. Tiredness. Pain. Exertion. His bones still hurt, his wounds haven't even begun healing yet. Anything went, yet it all seemed simply of lackluster importance, when staring at the moons and all the stars that kept them company. It was beautiful. A tiny window separated them from a world vast and perfect, a world void of the pain of mercenary life. Of Terran life.
.
"..." Andy felt the air shifting. He couldn't see, sure. He didn't need to. He knew W parted her lips. He knew she acknowledged his company.
"... You can laugh." She whispered. He couldn't remember the last time he heard her speak in such a soft and quiet way. "... Go ahead. Bawl your eyes out with laughter."
"... I'm good." He murmured back. The moons shone bright, brighter with each word. He didn't want to disrupt their sleep, so his voice remained equally as quiet as hers. "... I get it. Now, I mean. I get why you'd need this."
"Do you?" Her quiet voice barely took flight, before landing right at the tip of his ear. Their faces were close, their gazes away. It was the very same pair of moons they were looking at, however. "I'd argue with you. You know I'd be… I'd be the first in line to do so, but I don't feel like it."
"Not in the mood?"
"Not in the slightest."
"..."
Andy wasn't eager to bite, either. Even rivaling houndbeasts need a moment to sit back and howl at the moon together, sometimes. Especially when it glowed so bright. With W right next to him, her eyes were like a clear map of the night sky – a full, apricot map of the stars. And there were twice as many of them as usual.
Instead, he unrolled the blanket. How fuzzy and soft it felt on his fingers, not in a thousand years could he find the words to describe the sensation. W didn't even move when he wrapped it snugly around her and his shoulders. The thick fabric shielded their bare shoulders from the chill of the night like a protective cocoon, doing a much better job at keeping them warm than their sweat soaked tank tops ever could. It couldn't ever replace the warmth their bodies produced, as the pressure she applied against his arm grew intensely when the blanket fell into place.
"... Andy?" Her voice drew his attention away from the stars. "... Do you ever miss it?"
"Miss what?" He responded softly, aware of the rare vulnerability in her question. Just the word "Andy", his own name falling from her lips, it made his heart skip a beat.
"Home. Your pretty Laterano, I mean."
"..." Questions flooded his mind, like oil floods an engine's chamber. What does she care? Why should he tell her? Does Laterano still mean anything to him? Is there anything to return to? He knew well there wasn't. Not a single warm face awaited him home, yet a childish piece of hope kept tugging at his heartstrings, asking him to please, please run down to his favorite cinnamon shop and ask the cashier for spare change, maybe to share a peach cobbler with Lem later. Despite everything, he knew that a tiny part of him wanted the childish dream to come true. To fulfill what he couldn't, to turn back time and fix the one mistake that led him here.
Here. Next to her. Close to her sleepy breathing and warm shoulder.
"... Not really. Why?"
"No reason. Just asking." She murmured back. Every few seconds or so, her eyes would close and reopen, cutting her view of the moons short. That tiny moment of uncertainty always terrified her most – what if they weren't there anymore, after she blinked? "... I don't, either."
"You don't miss home?"
"No." Her body shifted, burrowing further into his chest. Andy feared she'd fall, and he didn't want that to happen. His arm slithered around her waist, allowing his hand to rest calmly atop her stomach. It felt like a bed of snakes, enveloped in a soft fabric. Firm, hard and uneven to the touch, full of sharp and rough edges – much like she was. His hand sought and sought, yet couldn't find even an inch of softness. The mercenary life took a toll on her. Not a single person on Terra could tell by touch, but Andy. She let him run his fingers across her clothed skin, across the most vulnerable part of her – like a thorny shellbeast protecting its soft spot, baring it only to those deemed worthy of its trust.
"I don't even remember home, to be honest." W spoke, quietly. "... Just a bunch of jumbled mess. Noise, yelling, flashes of color here and there. Maybe someone died, maybe someone didn't. It doesn't matter anyway."
Andy kept still and quiet. The last thing he wanted at the moment was for her lolling head to shoot back up, away from him. Even their tails met in silent harmony, letting her freely speak her mind for once.
"I remember what happened later, though. The sun, the endless desert, the… the stench of oil and rot. Cages. Have you ever lived in a cage?"
Her eyes did not leave the sea of emptiness above for even a moment, when she asked. Andy shook his head.
"Can't say I have."
"Of course you haven't. When you were stuffing your mug with sweets and… and ice cream, or whatever, I was barely making it day by day. Just rotten, bug infested water and rice." She sighed. "I hate the taste of plain rice. Makes me wanna vomit."
"Didn't seem so eager to vomit earlier today." Andy pointed out, letting a tiny smile cross his lips. Involuntarily, W returned the gesture herself and softly elbowed his stomach.
"Jackass. Let a girl spill her heart out, would you?"
Andy gestured zipping his mouth shut. "... Not a word from me. Promise."
"Good." She sighed. "... Besides, I was hungry. I'll stomach anything when I'm hungry."
"..."
"... I'd stomach anything back then, I can stomach it now. It's not like my body's any different. Past all the scars, the notches, these…" She glanced at her right arm, the black crystals piercing her skin. They returned her gaze with a reflection of her eyes, surprising her with the softness of it all. Too tired to fix it, though. "... These things. I'm still me, that's gotta count for something."
"You think?" Andy purred back. His fingers ran soothing waves of comforting shivers along her tummy, daring to dip into her belly button from time to time. Her skin never tensed at the contact, her muscles never grew tougher than they needed to be. She was purely just mush that night. A vulnerable pile of mush – like Andy, most of his life.
"I do, yeah. I do. I know I'm still that same… same bag of bones from the cage. Same critter who dreamed of running off the platform and taking as many creeps with whips down with me. Same critter who sat there, curled up at night and stared at the moons through the bars."
"..."
"... Do you ever get scared, Andy?" She blinked. "... I mean, of course you do. Look at you."
"Guilty." He affirmed with a whisper.
"... You know I do too, right? I'm… I'm not all that. Of all the people, you should probably be able to tell."
"I had my suspicions, yeah."
"Of course you did. But you never said anything, did you? Never opened your mouth, never let a thought slip. Just sat there and took it all. It's kind of pathetic, to be honest." Instead of air, she breathed out words. There weren't any word-eating trees on Terra, unfortunately. Just Andy. "... Just as pathetic as a scared, little girl, staring at the moons each night to make sure they're there. 'Cause they were the only certain thing in her life. Not the sight of another sunrise, not the hum of machinery, but the moons. Counting the stars, over and over again, to make herself occupied, to believe that there's something more out there, something beyond the steel bars. Up there, where hands can't reach. Like a clean slate, Andy. A new life. Something to find and hold onto."
.
The blanket shifted. Warmth poured from beneath, aimed at his heart and soul. Andy felt her soft tufts of hair tickling his skin, as she pulled her head flush against his shoulder. Their shadows, cast by the moons' glow, joined together into one, mushy mass that couldn't ever be told apart. Both tails clinged to one another hard, glued for all eternity and even beyond that. Andy couldn't hear his heart beating out of his chest, because her barely audible, gentle breaths occupied his ears whole. Each time she shifted, each time her lips purred in gentle satisfaction, his entire nervous system would freeze up, then burn in the blink of an eye. She spoke, again.
.
"... So tell her it's fine. Tell her the moons aren't going anywhere, Andy. Tell her they'll be there when she needs them."
.
A beat of silence flowed between the two, their comfortable familiarity of intimate closeness.
.
"... Tell her you'll be there."
.
Andy didn't even realize when his arms snaked their way around her waist. When her warmth started being siphoned directly into his heart, when time came to a standstill and all he could see were the sprinkles and glimmers of stars, mirrored in her sleepy eyes.
.
"The moons will be there. I will, too." He whispered back. "... We're all in too deep at this point. Entangled in that little girl's life, whether she likes it or not, I guess."
.
W smiled back. She looked so pretty when she smiled. Not grinned, not smirked, not bared her teeth like a hound – just smiled.
.
"... You better be. Or I'm kicking your ass, no brakes. Decimating you with all of Babel watching, you worm. And mark my words, yeah? Don't think I'm joking, this isn't the time for jokes… right?"
"Right. Obviously."
"Right."
.
A confidential nod of recognition followed. Words were perfectly understood.
.
"... Now tell her all about Laterano. I know you're just itching to spill, ain't ya? Spill 'til her ears fall off, Lawdog. She wants to hear it. All about what little Andy got 'round to."
.
In all honesty, he did want someone to share something with. A piece of his past. The proposition brought a smile he couldn't even contain. With the moons to bear witness, he took a deep breath and hugged her a little more tight.
.
.
.
It was a very, very long night.