.

"... Mmm… Stupid, old-ass, moronic… maybe not moronic, but you get it."

A soft, yet distorted buzzing chased his words.

"... How? How do you expect me to just sit back and do fuck-all? Do you want to turn into an its-bitsy jester for the old man?"

Buzz.

"Or woman, fine. Still, doesn't change the fact they wanna make us into a court clown."

The buzzing grew a little more pushy.

"You're going there. You're actually going there. I thought we had that behind us, a good two millenia back or so. It doesn't matter who was whose slave, it matters who WE are, right NOW. And you're trying to…"

And more pushy. Buzz-buzz.

"... You're trying to put a leash 'round me neck again! And I'm not listening to the biggest hypocrite on Terra teaching me manners, 'cause you ain't got none! It–..."

Buzz.

"The past DOES matter! I never said it didn't! If it didn't matter I wouldn't be running 'round and carrying me dear Susie everywhere, would I? But what do YOU know about it, of all people? You're not even a person, you're a pile of metal."

The buzz sighed in helpless defeat.

"Yeah. That's what I thought, twat. I'm doing this only, and ONLY because Kal asked. I hear one more word about "obsessive tendencies" and I'm digging you out of that handle. What? You can crush me, sure. Oh, you won't. Nah, you won't. Oh, you won't you p-... HEY! HEY… BWAHAHAHA, PUT ME DOWN, YOU CUNT! Y-YOU… MY DAYS, PUT ME DOWN, URI! DON'T LIFT ME LIKE THAT! YOU'RE… FUCK, YOU'RE PUSHING TOO HARD INTO MY RIBS, B-... BWUUUH…"

.

Salvos of laughter echoed through the hallways of the Rhodes Island landship, as a pair of metal gauntlets carried onward a giggly, wriggling worm of a man. His poor attempts at setting himself free all ended before they could even properly begin, halted once forcefully dragged and dropped in front of a rather unassuming door. Anton curled on the floor, clutching onto his broken ribs and wheezing with laughter.

"Y-You cunt… you shattered me ribcage again."

Past his whimpers and giggles, a hard metal thud broke through, the sound of a massive blade resting roughly against the floor. The eye-like gem that lay in the handguard narrowed its cold gaze and focused solely on the man, towering and silently judging from above. Despite the imposing presence, it produced a gentle, generally amused buzz and extended one of its gauntlets to forcefully drag him up by the collar.

"Nah, it's broken alright. It's gone. That's a visit to Kal you just signed me up for, you wanker. And don't say "not like you'd mind." He smirked at the sight of the eye-gem rolling its iris, then kicked the blade over. It shrieked in displeasure, then fell to the floor and shook the entire hallway awake. A few lightbulbs shattered. "... Now we're even. Let's just get this done with."

With a sigh of preparation, Anton steeled himself for the conversation ahead. Standing before this damned door, again. Completely unprepared and mentally vulnerable like ever, again. Any problem that ever came his way, usually went with a few swings of the sword, but the real issues, the ones awaiting behind doors just like this one, or in the hallways - they couldn't ever be fixed by waving around a ton of steel. They required a clear mind. A healthy approach. A hefty pile of nerves to be gnawed on. A bundle of hair to tear from his scalp. How he hated talking it through. Maybe Uri was actually right, maybe he really was projecting.

Before the silly, self reflective thoughts could crawl even deeper into his brain, Anton grabbed the door handle and pushed. A slight force pushed from the other side, and he blinked.

"Oops." He took a step back, allowing the other person to go on through. Out, went the catastrophically ambitious technician, a Sarkaz he's grown to know as Closure. "... Mornin'."

"Mo-orning?" She blinked, a little perplexed by the sight. "You're here?"

"Here, yeah."

"Coming in to actually kill them, or…?"

"Naw, Kal won't let me." He sighed, then leaned lazily on nothing but air. The blade begrudgingly flew behind his back to act as a pillar of leisurely steadiness. "... You? They got any complaints?"

"No, just chatting. You know, ori testing, results, blah, blah. The usual wham." She warbled back, slightly amused by the coordination of the two. "... I don't ever get any complaints about my job, thank you very much."

"Yeah, of course you don't." Anton mumbled beneath his breath, then took an overly loud breath to muffle her noise of asking protest. "Anyway, how are they today? Slept good? Slept at all? Woke up on the wrong side of bed? Fell off it? Died, maybe?"

"Doc's fine. Like always, I mean." She gave him a skeptical look. "You know, I never really understood what it is that you've got piled against them. I mean, in all the time I spent here, all the med exams and all, I can't really tell I've ever minded. The opposite, even, they seem nice."

"Yeah, opposite my arse." Anton snorted. "You don't see it, but ya will. One day, yeah? One day, all will see, mark me words."

"Oh, "All will see, all will kneel on the day of judgment, all will heed to the great Newmaker's words, yada yada yada." C'mon, ya gloomster, brighten up."

"I am bright! I'm as bright as can be! I just hate bein' ignored 'n then comin' out on top at the end, 'cause it's always some dumb bullshit that can be prevented, had people actually listened to me." He sighed. "But what do I know? Guitar clown of Babel, the reckless one."

"You're so goddamn dramatic." Closure let out a chuckle and flicked him on the nose. "It's kinda pathetic, but also really damn amusing. Definitely a highlight of the day. And I'm telling you all this, and you're smirking."

Anton's smile only grew.

"Best way to live is with a smile on yer face, luv. If there's just one thing lotsa people should learn from me, then it's probably that."

"And on top of all, you're cheesy."

Another flick came his way. Anton let his eyes flutter shut and allowed Uri's asking glances to serve him some justice. One of the metal gauntlets materialized from nowhere and flicked a finger between the girl's eyes with enough force to down a rampaging burdenbeast. She recoiled back into the nearest wall, and Anton stepped past the glaring door full of some unsaid pride. Like a gargoyle guarding its pillar, the door seemingly served another purpose and stared down at all who dared approach, monitoring with its shuttered eye-window and plaque that read "DOCTOR'S OFFICE."

.

Papers ruffled. Droplets of dust floating lazily about the air seemed to freeze and cease their existence all at once, when the door came closed shut. Anton took one last breath to steel himself for the meeting, then turned to the ruler of this dusty little kingdom.

Between a castle of documented folders and foldered documents, sat the bureaucratic ruler of this unnamed monarchy. The king (or queen?) of the keep, leader of the morally radiant and ethically gray – with a cape not sewn with red, but black, and without a scepter, but with a pen in hand. No crown to call his own, but a mere hood and mask to cover whatever rested beneath. A pair of two little voids blinked from behind the visor, seemingly startled by the sight of Operator Newmaker and a blade nearly twice his size barging in without an appointment.

"... Anton." The Doctor gestured to the loungy chair in front of their desk. Their eyes sought first the man, then the sword. "I can't say I anticipated you being here today. With Lord Uri'Zen, that is."

"Yeah, yeah…" Anton took a seat and threw his legs over the desk. A stern glare and a soft buzz from his sword quelled the rising moxie in his actions, and his stature returned to a more proper way of sitting. "... Uri says you can drop the "Lord" rubbish. But don't, actually. I like hearing it."

"If Uri'Zen so pleases, I'll address him in a more casual way." They replied with a wee nod towards the sword, which politely tilted to bow back. "You however, Anton, I'm not sure how to address at all."

"Then don't." He shrugged. "Hell, we can just sit 'ere all day and stare at one another. Not like there's better shit to sort through anyway. Your mask ain't exactly the most displeasurable thing to look at, actually. 'S pretty dishy."

"Thank you?" The comment came as a bit of a surprise to the Doctor, who glanced towards the glowing eye of the blade in search of an answer, but only found something akin to a plea saying "don't indulge him." After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke. "... So what is it that brings you into my office?"

"I dunno. Kal told me to come." Anton mumbled, then dragged his chair close to the desk and pushed away a few documents to lazily lay down between a pillow of arms. "... She's always like that. Do this, do that, go there, talk to this guy, 'ave that guy decapitated, drag this guy back to base. And then she gets mad when I get it all mixed up and the wrong people lose their heads. And she loses hers, y'know how she is."

"I am acutely aware how she can be with you, yes." A soft nod of confirmation shimmered through the lab coat. "... Yet you seem to hold her in high regard."

"Duh? I mean, I just kinda… Y'know, need to ruffle her feathers a bit, get on her good side, maybe crawl under her skin enough…"

"You need something from her." The Doctor summed up. Anton blew a few spit-bubbles, seemingly disarmed.

"I may. What of it? I mean, hell, ya were sleepin' when the two of us were out there 'n conquering this gods forsaken planet. What if I do need a teeny, tiny favor from her?"

"And you think she'd grant it?" The shadows under their visor shifted, caught by the rise of an eyebrow. "Is it something big, or…?"

" 'S none of yer damn business, that's what it is." Anton let out a snort. "... Focus on us. On what we're here to do."

"Right, right. Did she give you any specific manner to discuss, or has she simply asked you to come and listen to a… Well, call it a pep talk."

"A pep talk? Can you even give pep talks? That's the question. I mean, I don't… I don't even feel like yelling at you, or- or insulting you, or whatever." After a moment of consideration, he added in a mumbly voice. "... A pep talk wouldn't hurt, actually."

"I don't feel like yelling or threatening you either. You know that." The Doctor spoke in a manner that was soft and only reserved for those quiet, intimate moments that the stillness and serenity of these personal talks bred. "I'm not your enemy. Not here, not anywhere, I never was, and never will be. I thought- honestly, I thought we were long, VERY long past that."

"How long?" Newmaker mumbled into his arms.

"Long! Long enough, that's for sure." They threw back a chuckle, and Anton could tell a smirk was tugging at their lips beyond that empty mask. "... At least a few years. Two? Maybe three?"

"Two. Two, and don't push it."

"Two! Still, two is a nice number. A strong one. Stands proud behind one, the primer and the beginning. It's not hard being a mighty, yet banal sum lost between the octodecillions. The real difficulty comes in being so small as our meager two, but keeping up the reliability and trust so many people have put into you. Say, Anton-..."

"What are we even talking about?" He blinked and stilled his gaze in the Doctor's eye-slit. They only giggled and continued.

"Say, Anton, would you want to be something most would consider "too big to fall", and crush anyone who steps in your way, even if by accident? Or would you rather take on a smaller stature, one akin to our tiny two, but be as reliable and beloved, trusted and familiar as they come?"

"Wuh-... What a load 'a tosh, obviously I wanna be reliable." He scoffed, then pouted like a child reaching some sort of dissatisfying answer to a question they couldn't even comprehend. "I wouldn't be here, if I didn't. If not for the goodness of me heart, 'cause you lot don't even pay me a quid."

"Well, you never asked for payment."

"Yeah. I got chow, I got people to talk to, I got Kal to annoy, I got you to get unreasonably mad at every week, I don't need cash."

"And you also have Her Majesty Theresa to help, and a cause to fight for…" The Doctor softly reminded, though Anton scoffed at the idea.

"That's just extra. I love Tessie, 'n all, but c'mon. 'M not exactly brassed off at the idea of doin' good for all 'ese devils, but not jumpin' headfirst to help either."

"Maybe that's exactly why Kal'tsit told you to come and talk it out."

"Maybe it's just about the two 'a us makin' up?"

"Maybe there's something more to it?" Their brows raised in gentle amusement. "You and I both know it's never quite just black and white with her."

"Look, Doc, I'm not…" A sigh, "I'm no philosopher-tactician to be thinkin' yer wargames through and through, I'm just here to make sure the good guys win the big bad conflict and history goes like it's supposed to, okay…? Just point me in a direction, or say it straight, and… What?" He turned out of the blue, towards his blade. It buzzed a sigh of its own." "... I'm not- I'm not a hypocrite. Being here is different, that's much different than just- just being someone's errand boy. So shut up."

A soft buzz arose once more, and the Doctor leaned back in their chair. Watching the exchange brought a smile to the masked facade.

"I'm not a jester here, twat."

Buzz.

"No! That's… YOU were the cause of it, that's why! 'Cause you're-..."

Buzz.

"Yeah, I didn't have much 'a choice, did I? It was either that, or bein' left in- in a smoldering pile 'a rubble. Yeah, YER work. Yer smoldering pile 'a rubble."

The buzz grew somberly annoyed.

"Oh yeah, people change, blah-blah. Yer not a king, yer not ME OWNER, and I'm not yer clown anymore. We got the roles reversed a hot while ago, tinhead. And now I'm the one who says where we go and what we do. And we're stayin' here and we're doing whatever Kal says."

Buzz. Newmaker's eyes went wide at the sheer audacity of the buzzed statement.

"You-..."

"Anton, may I?" The Doctor's voice suggested a momentary truce. Uri buzzed, thankful for the merciful save. "I feel as if you're feeling used, but can't quite pinpoint who it is that's doing the using."

"Used? Me? I'm not being used!" He threw back with a disbelieving cackle. "I'm- I don't get used by anyone, I'm far past being used."

"That's precisely true, yes." A nod. "No one is using you, Anton, yet you still feel some presence looming over you and tugging at your strings."

"That's… That's the exact opposite of what I said, ya dingus." He grumbled. "I'm not being used, get that into 'at thick skull 'a yers. I'm not."

Uri sighed. The Doc could only stare a deadpan gaze. "... Well, if you're certain, you're certain. But, beyond that... I am sure we can also put your claims of me "using" our operators to rest, can we not?"

"..." Anton scowled at them for a moment, taking in their eagerly, dare I say, teasing eyes.

"Can we not, Operator Newmaker?" The Doctor repeated, making sure to really draw out the first syllable of his name.

"..." The internal struggle couldn't keep up for much longer. All in all, the conflict seemed pointless. The only thing preventing him from giving in and just extending an accepting hand or hugging it out was the smoldering ember of self assuring pride that had its own few words to say. Words about the perseverance of own ideals and fighting off the assault that forcefully wanted to worm into his brain and soften his defenses. "No! No, we can't. I mean, we can, but that ain't mean we're buddy-buddies. Just 'cause we're 'avin a bit of a chin wag don't mean we're gonna be drinkin' mates all of a sudden."

"..." A moment of silence passed between the two. The Doctor's eyes bored deeply into Anton's skull, without a clear purpose or goal. Other than expressing the slightest tidbit of disappointment, maybe. "... Well, we're on the right path, at least. Agreed?"

"Yeah. Fine, I'll let ya have that one. We're on the right path, but don't expect me to be all chummy with you." He added, to the unamused buzz of Uri. "... And you, you shut up. It's not about you."

"I'm sure the first acknowledged king of the Sarkaz race would rather have us get along then not. At least from what I had gathered." They slid in the remark between the grumbling buzzing of the blade and Anton's scowly eyes, bursting with eagerness to start yet another shouting match with the pillar of iron. "It's just an observation, though. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"Yeah, yer wrong. Yer wrong and I'm not willing to elaborate."

The blade buzzed in protest, then laid its metal hands out bare on the desk to reassure the Doctor that their words were in fact true.

"... How about a deal, then, Anton? Since you're so unwilling to trust me, maybe allow me to..." They giggled. "... Buy your trust, as awful as it sounds."

"Deal? What deal?" He perked up like a hound being offered a glistening, fatty piece of burden-meat. "... And don't faff no big words around."

"A deal. Let's say I could… Mmmm…" They took a few seconds to scratch their head, rack their brains, get the cogs running, run through a library of dictionaries and find the one expression that would resonate with Anton best. "... Scratch your back, if you scratch mine."

At the mention of scratching anyone's back, Anton's fluffy Feline ears shot straight up and stood on duty. Not a sound, not even a bedbug crawling in the vicinity of at least a hundred meters could escape them now.

"Continue, please."

Hearing his skeptical, yet growing curiosity, the Doctor knew the fish had entered his metaphorical net. Now it was a matter of reeling the thing in.

"Well, you said you needed a favor from Kal'tsit, isn't that right?"

"... May be." His eyebrow rose. "... What of it?"

"One thing I'm certain of is that I may have just the slightest bit of influence over her clear-cut train of thought." He paused for a moment to give the confused kitty-cat the chance to connect the dots himself. "... Are you following?"

"... So- so, what, yer sayin' 'at ya can manipulate her?"

"W-... No, no, that's…" A sigh. "No. I can whisper a few nice words about your developing mental maturity and tip the scales in your favor when asking for… well, whatever it is you need her to do."

"Ah." A spark lit the engine chamber of Anton's mushy brain. Where the dots lined the surface, past the smooth parts and unused space, the turbines and pistons all awoke at the rallying cry of neurons connecting all the pieces of the puzzle into one cohesive pile. "... You might be onto something."

"I'd like to think so, yes."

Without a word, Anton jumped to his feet and loomed over the desk. Even Uri blinked and buzzed questioningly at the sudden excitement. "... Whaddya need me to do, ah? Bring you coffee? Char? Crumpets? Hell, I'll even serenade you with those gods-awful rock ballads you love so much. Anythin' you say – goes. For now, at least."

"Well." The Doctor clamped their hands together. "... A nice change of pace. First, I'd like you to apologize on my behalf to our newer contemporary recruits for that… rather explosive welcome. Then?" At the sight of Anton's tail wagging, they smiled. "... Then, I want you, and your little team to make yourselves very useful. And I might have just the task…"

.

Papers shuffled. Clicks filled the room, pens came alive. Ink flowed like rampaging rivers, and moments later Anton was left standing in the hallway, clutching a little sticky note.

.

"... Refugees. Sorting refugees." His deadpan voice read the task aloud. "... Sorting bloody refugees. War effort my ass." A whistle woke the behemoth of a blade by his side.

.

"Uri, c'mon. Gotta find the merc-morons."

.

And off they went.