Chapter Text

Ran’s relationships with his peers— if you could call them “peers”, that is, which Ran probably wouldn’t, personally— is strictly one of business.

If he really had to elaborate, he’d probably admit his relationship with most everyone likely falls into the realm of “business”. This is because a good portion of his life is taken up by carrying out the instructions given to him by those up the chain of command; generally the Council.

Then again, if he really had to elaborate, he would likely tell you to move along, and perhaps stick your nose into someone else’s private matters whilst you were at it.

Ran is not someone who considers the sharing of personal information enjoyable. He’d compare it more to being cross-examined in an unpleasant enemy interrogation.

All of this to say: Ran does not have very many friends.

If he was being very honest (which he would only be to himself, and to high ranking Council members, as we’ve just established that he does not have many friends), he would probably say that it may be true he has essentially no friends at all. And while some might assume that this is a very sad amount of friends to have, Ran would not, because he actually doesn't mind the arrangement.

The reasons for this include the fact that having less friends means speaking less, and speaking less means thinking more. And any Order enderman can tell you that thinking more is never a bad thing; and in fact lends itself very well to missions of high caliber (of which Ran is sent on very often).

Most of these missions involve visiting the Overworld.

He likes to pretend that this is because he’s the most intelligent and qualified person available for the job, instead of the reality, which is probably that no one else likes to do the Overworld jobs.

Terminans, as a rule, find that plane of existence to be a particularly demeaning one. Although rumors tell of those who stayed on that planet during the separation, they are considered to be otherworldly beasts now… speaking very little to avoid detection from the newer dominant species, and traveling in lonely packs.

Ran at least can be content with the information that he is at least somewhat intelligent and qualified. Which he knows to be true for a fact, because Two told him, and Two doesn’t lie about anything. (no members of the Council are supposed to lie, but it’s well known that Two is the most truthful of all of them, when it decides to speak.)

On the subject of the Council, Ran is presently about to meet with them, which is why he’s tidying up his cell (cell as in the type of room a monk would live in, not the kind of cell for holding people in a jail. Although both of these are human terms that Ran wouldn’t think much about).

Ran isn't carrying much on him— most endermen don’t ever. But Ran, who goes on missions very often, finds it useful to carry tools and weapons on his person, which is why he makes his coats with many hidden inner pockets. He makes sure to clean his room anyway to prepare his mind for the best amount of thinking and scheming, before he leaves his cell to exit into the city.

The city of Terminus is large, and glorious, and Ran feels himself relaxing naturally as he steps out onto the lime stone. The whole city is built with this stone, perhaps carved, though it was ages before he spawned— the towers even look to be grown straight out of the rock in the ground.

Terminus is a spread-out domain of tall structures that stretch into the huge, dark expanse of stars above. Unlike in the Overworld, where there are many buildings built of many different things, in Terminus, which resides far above the Overworld, touching space; there is only tall spindling towers, which enderman can enter and leave as they so please.

As Ran begins the walk to the central tower (the tallest and biggest of all, although still made from the same lime green stone) he twists one of his claws thoughtfully. His ears twitch from the sound of the endermen on the street around him, and the buzzing as they teleport to their next locations.

Ran takes his time walking to the central tower and not teleporting not because he can’t teleport, but because he enjoys the walk, and the peace.

But also because he can’t teleport.

Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He technically can teleport, when he wants to, the same as any enderman. But the problem is that he’s never been able to do it right.

Normally the nacre in his gut should fizzle and spark him away towards a destination his eyes lock onto, but it’s never worked properly for Ran.

Many attempts at teleportation have ended with Ran smouldering far away from his destination, or stuck on the top of towers, or even trapped in a hole, once. A particularly nasty teleportation mishap is actually how Ran lost his left arm.

Essentially, if Ran wants to get anywhere on time (which he usually does, he’s very punctual), he really just needs to walk.

This probably means that he’s the most fit enderman in all of Terminus, though. Silver linings and all that.

Ran enters the tower, and steps into the mist that makes him weightless and raises him swiftly up to the top floor.

When he steps onto the stone of the top room, at first it seems to be an empty shell of rock. But Ran has been here many times before, so he knows to wait. Eventually, five endermen are zapped into place at the curved table above him, dust and smoke dissipating from their apparition in a way that would call to mind an Earthly magician.

Ran inclines his head and makes a sound of respect.

The five endermen stare at him. Not directly at him, more slightly above his head.

Endermen do not like to make eye contact. This is because their eyes, of course, are their primary way of moving about, and having someone look directly in them inspires the same level of discomfort as being pinned against a wall. It’s a challenge, or a threat.

(Ran doesn’t have this issue— seeing as he can’t teleport anyway, there’s not any natural instincts in him that instill a hatred of eye contact. He still has a habit of avoiding it, though, to stop from accidentally angering anybody.)

At first, there’s silence. The five members of the Council sit above him awe-inspiringly. Their black and skeletal figures are straight and imposing as they scrutinize Ran.

Purple particles fizzle about their bodies, unlike the smoke that occasionally rises from Ran after an unsuccessful teleportation attempt. The tower spire is lit only by the glowing eyes and mouths of the endermen present.

The table the Council sits at is tall, so Ran has to crane his neck to… not look at them.

Ran feels himself begin to fret that he’s in for a reprimand, and so he puffs up just slightly in order to maintain the imagery of the perfect equerry he is.

The first to speak is Four, as is usual. The reason Ran knows that this is Four is firstly that endermen can recognize each other despite their similar-looking black spines, and secondly that Four has four gems embedded in it’s chest.

Ran would never want to be on the Council just from how much it must hurt to get that done. And all of the responsibilities, of course.

Four’s eyes travel down to Ran’s left arm, and it makes a chirring sound of inquiry.

Endermen do not speak with words the way people in the Overworld do— they instead communicate feelings toward things and each other through frequencies they emit. This is very similar to earthling species such as bats or dolphins.

So, although Four’s message had no actual words, everyone in the room understood what it meant— and what it meant was, roughly translated, something like:

“That’s new.”

Ran’s pulse quickens a little, and he ducks his head in response, careful not to make the movement too sudden.

“Yes. I made it myself.”

This is true. Ran’s bionic arm was built entirely by him during one of his missions on earth. It was very hard to do with only one hand, but his stubbornness drove him forward, and his fear of being considered useless to missions even more so, so just before even a year had passed he had finished his project and restored his ample capability as an agent.

But Four was not referring just to Ran’s arm. He’s had this arm for ages, and most everyone knew about it by now. In fact they often shot it looks of distaste without first checking to see that Ran was not looking, for it was far too gaudy for any of the elegant form popular on Terminus. No, Four was actually thinking about the rather large gem that was screwed into the shoulder piece. For that was, in fact, new.

Ran felt the back of his neck heat up just slightly, although he managed to keep the spines there still.

“It matches my eyes,” He explains with practiced simplicity. And while this is also true, it causes every member of the Council to sit back in disapproval.

You see, Ran’s eyes are green.

And as every enderman knows, that is not normal, no matter what way you try to spin it.

But of course Ran is not messed up, or defective, or useless, or any of those other things— he’s a valued member of the Order, and he does his part to serve on missions in the Overworld.

He’s helpful. He’s respected.

“Yes, well, you are a bit of a tinkerer.” Says Four.

“Tinkerer” is the closest English word that the noise can be approximated to, but the meaning was actually probably closer to; “sad shut in who stays in his room and only works on projects all day.”

And this is not the least bit inaccurate, so Ran bows his head in sufficient embarrassment.

Thankfully the conversation topic moves on pretty quickly, even though there’s a stuffy silence in this room. It feels to Ran as if it's filled with black smoke.

“You are free of mission at the present moment, correct?” Asks Five, who knows very well that Ran is free of mission, when no one other than the Council can assign missions.

“Yes,” confirms Ran.

“We have a new mission— an Overworld one,” Four announces.

Ran feels his skin tingle in excitement. He would never admit this aloud, of course, but Overworld missions were in fact his favorite. There was something about the earth— the trees, the grass— it was all very lovely. There was something about the way it was all so alive.

It’s very hard to feel lonely on the earth.

“Do you know the wastelands that at one point were known as the Dreamlands?” Asks Three, as if Ran doesn’t know practically everything about Overworld history.

To be polite, Ran only affirms that he does.

“Wonderful. I assume you also know about the empire that flourishes there? Good resources, big city, been around for quite a while now in Overworld years.”

Ran does in fact remember this.

“We are sending you there,” Five gets in over Three. “To the Subbin Empire, we mean.”

Ran's disposition then shifts into curiosity. He has never before been sent to an empire. He’s visited villages before, to coerce information out of locals, or to buy supplies. But he doesn’t usually stick around for more then a few days.

Endermen don’t really intersect with the Overworld population. If they see them, they can pass on their message and be done with it. So he can’t help but wonder what the purpose of visiting such a massively populated place is. Surely the stay would have to be longer, to avoid being caught… but Ran can handle it. It cannot be much harder than the time he had to steal a peace treaty out from under the nose of twenty people who surrounded it.

“I can tell you’re worried about being discovered,” starts Two, and everyone else is quickly at attention.

When Two speaks, it is a very big deal, and everyone around should fall silent to listen.

Ran sometimes wonders what it would be like to hear One speak. He’s never witnessed that happening, though. He’s not sure anyone has.

“You need not worry,” Two assures. “Subbin is a massive empire filled with many hybrids and weird creatures— they shall hopefully think nothing of you.”

This is good news. Endermen are often gawked at by Overworld people, ever since they fully migrated to their city and stopped being seen anywhere else. It's been centuries since then, and seeing an Enderman can be very confusing to common folk.

Ran dips his head to indicate he’s grateful for the advice. Two always knows exactly what to say. Beside Two, One is watching Ran with humongous purple eyes.

Although the eyes are technically the same as everyone else in Terminus (barring himself), Ran can’t help but feel they are infinitely more intelligent and frightening. Everyone feels cowed under One’s gaze.

“The assignment isn’t just to prance around and make friends with the locals, however,” warns Three. “This is a very important one.”

“Oh?” Asks Ran, noticing how apprehensive and clipped the Council is being compared to normal. Whatever this job is, it’s a serious thing. Ran feels himself stand up just a little straighter with pride.

“Our designs are laid out perfectly among the creatures of the Overworld,” Four explains. “As you would know, being the enderman who helped to set up most of them. However, there is a threat to this plan— the Subbin empire is planning on conquering their neighboring empire, and perhaps even more empires. Should they do this, the perfect situations we have laid out to inspire the course for Terminus will not actually come to pass.”

Ran is bewildered by all of this information. Mainly, he is wondering what his exact assignment is to do. How is he, a lone enderman, expected to stop an entire empire? Surely it can’t be as vague as that.

Not that he couldn’t do it. Given how many strange he’s pulled off before, simply by being intelligent and resourceful. He knows that he will be able to do this.

“You will not be tasked with ending an entire empire,” reassures Two. “You will only need to assassinate one target. Without this singular individual, Subbin Empire will be destroyed, folding to their enemies.”

“Oh,” responds Ran, his ears flattening against his head as he becomes partially relieved and partially disappointed. A single assassination didn’t sound like it would be much of a challenge at all, really.

“The target is the Subbin Empire’s general,” says Five, “Whomever that may be.”

Ran’s ears flick in mild surprise. “We don’t know who it’ll be?”

“The contest that the king holds to decide the general has not yet happened,” explains Four patiently.

Ran thinks that maybe it will be difficult to kill someone he has no information on. This poses a small challenge for him, at least— one thing to look forward to.

“Will this be partially a reconnaissance mission, then?”

“Yes and No,” Two’s purple eyes flicker up towards the stone roof. “We have a pretty good idea of who will win the competition. We’ll give you papers on him. But yes, most information will be found by you alone. On the Empire’s plans with their army, so that you may know how best to disassemble it from the inside.”

Ran’s chest rumbles in satisfaction. This is a difficult mission. This is an important mission. And they’re giving it to him.

“I will not let you down,” Ran promises, feeling his spines raise in excitement.

Back in his cell, Ran packs up his bag, excited energy thrumming through his skin.

He’s going to Overworld, to a populated city at the center of an Empire.

This will be hard, he’s realized. But he’s up to the task.

Of course he is, he’s always up to the task.

Ran leaves the files detailing info about Jackie Brackett in his cell. He won’t be needing them anyway; he’s already worked hard to memorize what’s in them. They’re written in Overworld Common, a spoken and written language that Ran learned ages ago.

And what he’s learned is that Jackie is a dangerous former assassin in trouble with the law. Despite Subbin Empire’s large normalization towards killing, assassins can be punished by regulators if they manage to kill someone important enough.

Jackie’s past has caught up with him, and tomorrow he’ll be thrown into The Pit, a Colosseum at the center of the Subbin City in which the candidates fight to the death. The winner becomes General.

Two seems relatively sure that Jackie will win the challenge, and when Two is sure of something, it’s bound to happen. Ran is prepared.

-

After Ran packed his stuff and dressed, he had headed towards the port that sends endermen to the Overworld, and he’d started his mission. Go time.

The Pit was a spectacle Ran was well prepared for. The King himself (along with an oddly-dressed cameraman filming the event) had chosen Ran to skip a few levels and go in to fight.

The Arena had been a large and sunny bloodbath, one that Ran was expecting, and for the most part he stayed out of the fighting to observe the other contestants. He didn’t care too much about the contest, seeing that the entire place was going to come down anyway.

And afterward, when the young Jackie Brackett was named the new General just as Two had suspected, Ran made himself fade into the shadows away from the event all together.

As he attempted to sneak out, along with another contestant who’d fled the event, Watson, he was stopped just on the outside. And thus his escape was interrupted, and he was forced to stick around for the event’s after party.

The dreaded socialization might prove useful to Ran’s reconnaissance, so he agreed to come (pretending he had a choice), and made his way towards what seemed to be the banquet hall in the adjacent castle.

Before he even took his seat, though, someone slid directly into his path.

And now, with raised eyebrows and a pursed lip, the newly named General Jackie observes Ran in such a way that makes the enderman’s skin crawl. Ran reminds himself that this kid, as short and harmless as he may look, is trained to kill.

“Aren’t you that fella from the competition?” Jackie asks.

Ran doesn’t see any reason to lie.

“I am.”

“Hmm,” Jackie narrows his eyes and tilts his head a little, as if he’s trying to read in between every one of Ran’s imperfect scales. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

“Okay,” Ran says, only a little bit perturbed. He pulls out a chair at the extraordinarily long table, sitting down in front of the huge feast. Jackie immediately slides into the seat directly beside him.

Ran scoots the goblet of liquid away from himself, and turns the plate slightly for easier access.

“I’ll start with a simple one.”

The General pauses, just for a second, to parse his words; before folding his hands. Ran stares, stilling in apprehension.

“…Do endermen have names?”

Chapter Text

Now, Ran isn’t one to judge, because he hasn’t been to very many parties in his lifetime (“very many” meaning “zero”. He’s been to zero parties), but he feels kind of like even if he had been to many parties, this would still be the largest and gaudiest one of all.

And it’s not even a dancing party, either, which he’s certain would’ve been much more entertaining; just the sitting-down-and eating kind. Not that dancing parties are something Ran spends an awful lot of time imagining. It was just the first example to come to mind.

The lighting in the dining hall is bright, and honestly Ran has to squint for a while after he first enters the room. But it’s nothing compared to the sun outside, so that’s something to be grateful for.

The table is huge, and long, and the King himself sits proudly at the end, joyously chatting with people sitting on either side of himself.

The hall is loud— the clanking of dishes and amiable chatter of many people creating quite a cacophony— there’s a whirlwind of social interaction and moving going on around, and Ran’s ears fold down slightly as he watches the proceedings with focused eyes.

Servants come and go rather quickly — almost as if they don't like to be in the king’s presence for very long— and no one actually started eating until the king made his toast. Ran assumes that's the custom of the area. Ran is watching the king of course, and making note of him just as he is with all of the dignitaries and officials in this room.

The King is called Porkius the Seventh, and he’s inherited the throne from his father. The Porkius’s are a long lineage of warriors and conquerors, according to the man himself.

King Porkius is also a pig hybrid. Ran will admit, when the Council told him there were many hybrids in Subbin, he hadn’t expected the King Himself to be one.

But Porkius really is a pig, sitting there at the head of the table with his soft triangular ears and his pink complexion. He’s also got a cyberonic right eye. Ran is already aware that it’s impolite to point out physical differences, but he could have figured that out from the way the townspeople here didn’t spare him too many odd glances.

King Porkius seems oddly spontaneous, especially since he’s letting Ran stay in the castle for no apparent reason.

“You were supposed to die in The Pit. You lost the game, and I asked my General to kill you,” Porkius had said when he met Ran and the man tagging along outside the colosseum after the great event.

“Well,” Watson had responded. “I’m alive, aren’t I? And death isn’t a confirmed condition of the challenge.”

(Watson had also avoided death in the pit with Ran in the final round. He was a peculiar character that the endermen hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to yet— he had fair hair and gray eyes, strong arms, a scruffy chin, and a glint in his eye. He also had a bow slung over his back— one which Ran had watched him use to hit the targets in the basement with startling precision.)

Porkius had stared incredulously at the man— probably not used to being talked to in such a way— and then he had merely laughed.

“You know what; I like you! Why don’t you come stay in the castle while you’re in Subbin? Maybe we’ll see to it you can make yourself useful in some way other than General.”

The pig hadn’t acknowledged Ran at all, but the enderman was given a set of keys and an invitation to dinner by a servant later, just like Watson. Perhaps Porkius thought they knew each other, or that they were a package deal.

Ran is okay with him thinking this. It keeps him out of suspicion for a while.

“So, why are you here, anyway, Ran?” asks a voice to Ran’s left.

Okay, it keeps him out of suspicion from the king.

“I was invited,” Ran responds coldly, turning to look at General Jackie. The boy has a forkful of mutton and he’s shoving it into his face none too politely. Ran doesn’t care very much about manners, but he does think that gross eating is especially offensive.

General Jackie is… everything and nothing like Ran expected from the files he read.

For one thing, Jackie looks as he does in his photo— fiery strawberry-blonde hair that’s either naturally dirty or spattered with mud (the jury is still out on this one) and dark blue eyes brighter than the sun’s glare. He’s got a ratty jacket on, although Ran knows his clothing will probably be replaced with a General’s uniform very soon.

What the files didn’t tell him, however, was the sheer perception in Jackie Brackett’s expression— as if the boy was staring straight into and all the way through him.

It makes Ran’s skin itch with discomfort.

The other thing was Jackie’s …boyish charm. He seemed quite cheerful about most things, and when Ran first saw him in the underground waiting areas of the Pit he’d been shocked by how incredibly naive Jackie seemed to be.

He laughed out loud often and at inappropriate moments, and even when his life was in imminent danger during the pit fights he’d mostly seemed to see it as a game. He’d thrown up immediately after trying some of the beer kept in the kegs for contestants.

Normally, that kind of childish behavior could get one killed. But Jackie hadn’t only survived, he’d won the challenge. He was the General now.

There’s no doubt in Ran’s mind that this man must simply be particularly sadistic, in order to act so cheerfully in such horrific circumstances.

“That actually doesn’t explain much of anything at all,” complains Jackie, and he pops a few croutons into his mouth with one hand. “Tell me what you’re thinking, pretty-boy.”

Ran feels his face flush, no doubt mildly glowing green.

Yes, that was the other annoying thing. The completely unnecessary compliments to his physical appearance.

They don’t happen very often, and don’t seem to have very much meaning or intention behind them— Jackie often speaks as if he’s not thinking at all— but when they do happen… they’re embarrassing.

“I’m thinking about how pointless this all is,” he mutters. He feels frustratedly off-balance with how the rug is pulled out from under his feet in these moments when he’s “embarrassed”. Like the conversation see-saw has temporarily shifted weight in the general’s favor.

Jackie sticks his tongue out at the enderman before turning to speak to the dark-skinned avian with long raven hair on his other side.

“This guy’s meant to be dead, you know,” Jackie says in a voice that almost passes for complaining. He looks at Ran again. “How are you not dead?”

Ran sighs. “Watson survived as well, aren’t you curious about him?”

“Not really!” Jackie replies, and he stabs a small potato onto his fork, chomping on it. He waves the now-empty utensil directly in Ran’s face. “He’s boring. You’re interesting!” He says this with his mouth full, which makes it all the more annoying. The chandeliers above the table glitter with their candles and gemstones warmly.

Ran flutters his spines in exasperation. Is he really expected to deal with this childish behavior?

Well, not for long of course. All he needs to do at first is get his info.

“If you’re really that interested— I’m basically only here to work with you.” That’s a vague enough answer to satisfy.

A little bit of reconnaissance, that’s all— and then he can simply kill Jackie and leave.

The general loudly gulps from his goblet beside him, and then he slams it on the table with a satisfied sigh. Ran glares down at him. It’s a little weird to be glaring down at someone— Ran is actually just a little bit under the average height for most endermen, and he’s made aware of that very often in Terminus, from the way he must crane his neck. It doesn’t bother him, though, or anything.

“So you’re here because… you want to be my very best friend?” Jackie teases.

Ran thinks about the knife in his sleeve.

“No, more like… well, it’s strictly business, really.”

The General laughs. “So you’re here to help me organize the army.”

“Sure.”

Ran pokes at the mutton in front of himself, and then cautiously tries a bite. Oh. That’s nice actually.

“Congratulations on winning General, sir,” says a sparkly pink creature across the table from them. They raise a goblet in cheers.

“Thanks, Bubblegum,” Jackie replies. He scoops up some of the vegetables off his plate and devours them like a starving man. The yellow lights twinkle above all their heads as the sun outside sets, causing red light to pour into the windows. Through then, Ran can see that the castle room they’re in is raised significantly above the city. From here he can only see the tree-tops from the gardens that grow along the roofs of Subbin’s buildings, and, far in the distance, some of the houses on the Outskirts.

“Speaking of the army,” Ran asks, pushing the food on his plate around. “What are your plans for it?”

“Plans?” Jackie raises an eyebrow, and then he leans back and sighs. “I guess… I’ll run some tests first.”

“Tests?” Ran curiously repeats. He has to raise his voice a little over the noise in the dining hall, but he finds himself entirely focused on Jackie and his horribly messy hair. Ran decides every part of Jackie is dusty except for his hands (he must’ve washed them before dinner).

“Yeah, ‘cause like,” Jackie leans further back in his chair like he’s itching to put his feet on the table. “Well, there’s some weasels in every group, right? And if I’m planning to utilize, like, good design strategies in my army— which I am— I don’t want them being leaked to the enemy. So we start off with some fake sorta confidential info to narrow down any bad guys. Then we can weed ‘em out.”

“…Oh,” Ran replies, looking down at his food. Hm.

“I’m telling you this because you seem like a trustworthy fella, Ran,” Jackie says sternly, “So don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Ran laughs dryly. Dear Ender, this guy just isn’t very wise, is he?

Ran obviously wouldn’t have been caught by the tests in the first place, seeing as there are no outside sources he reports to, but the fact that Jackie is willing to share that kind of thing with random people willy-nilly…

Ran tugs absentmindedly on his large triangle earring.

“And after that,” Jackie is going on, “We’ll probably move forward with basic exercises or whatever. I’ll admit I don’t know much about how armies work, but I’ll figure it out.”

Ran pauses, his green eyes sliding in Jackie’s direction. “You don’t know how armies work?”

Jackie frowns. “‘Top General Of Subbin Empire’ wasn’t really on my career list, no.”

“Oh.”

Jackie lets his chair fall forward back onto its legs and rests his elbows on the table. “What about you? What’s your… career?”

“Um,” Ran’s spines on his back raise and lower again. His brain spins quickly like the wheels of the chariots parading through the streets below.

“Congratulations on getting General, Mister Jackie!” crows an avian woman with fluffy white wings as she walks past. She has to be loud to be heard over the din of this party.

“Thanks!” Jackie replies.

“I’m a— an archivist?” Ran tries. Given the things he’s studied about the Overworld’s past, he figures this is close enough to the truth.

Jackie stares at him blankly.

“You’re not really from around here, are you?”

Ran sighs and leans back against his chair. “No.”

Jackie narrows his eyes. Then he smiles.

“Okay. So you’re new. You can still assist in my army stuff, that’s fine.” Jackie shrugs callously. “What’s your last name?”

“My last name. Aetherman.“ Ran thought this was a particularly clever pun.

“Where’re you from?”

Ran pushes the leaves on his plate closer to himself, and then nibbles on them a little. They’re okay.

“Mempurr,” Ran says, and he’s starting to get a little tired of being drilled by Jackie when he should be doing the drilling. He decides to turn the tables and ask a question himself. “What is your job like so far? And the king?”

The General huffs, shoving the last bites of food into his mouth.

“You know how many people complain about their bosses? Honestly, at least your boss doesn’t hold a few dozen murders over your head when you try to ask for one weekend off. But, I mean, I’ve only had the job for a while. I shouldn’t complain.”

“Mm.”

Ran listens to the clinking of dishes and chattering of other guests for a minute or two. He thinks to himself. Knowing too much would be suspicious, wouldn’t it? Maybe he should go back to asking the most basic info, the things that humans usually asked first.

“How old are you?” Ran tries. Human ages are an extremely interesting concept to him, seeing as endermen don’t keep track.

Actually, most human concepts are interesting to him, but he especially liked the categorization bits. Endermen don’t really ‘categorize’ themselves, but humans like to come up with all kinds of names to sort into. Ran likes to learn about these things and try to sort himself. For instance: his “age” would be recently eighteen, his “gender” would be masculine, and his “Hogwarts house” would be Slytherin.

At least, according to the books he’s read.

“I’m seventeen,” says Jackie, glancing mournfully at his empty plate. He waves his fork in Ran’s direction. “I’ll be eighteen in just a few months, though.”

“Huh,” says Ran as if he didn’t know that already. “Where’re you from?”

“Eh, Outskirts,” The General waves him off, which Ran notes in interest. He pushes his plate away, and then turns to make a (likely annoying) comment to the raven avian on his left again.

During the split-second he’s turned, Ran slips a small vial down his sleeve into his hand, and then he tips it into General Jackie’s goblet.

He shoves the glass into his inner coat in an instant, and when the General turns back around, he is sitting in the same position, nothing amiss in his expression.

“God, there’s a lot of food, huh?” Jackie asks cheerfully, and then he picks up his cup.

Yes. Drink that, Ran thinks. He almost grabs his own glass to mirror the General, until he remembers he has no idea what’s in it, or if there will be enough water to hurt him. He settles for tapping his claws on the table, casually, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

Jackie sips out of his goblet with a raised eyebrow. Ran keeps his face unenthused. It’s not too hard when Jackie is just so thoroughly uninteresting. Ran has already deduced he doesn’t have military skill, only a bit of experience in fighting, and a lot of good luck. That luck will end for Subbin once Jackie is dead.

If you’ve spent a lot of time in the Overworld, then you know that meeting someone often imposes upon you a first impression. If you’re in any way wise you probably also know that first impressions are often wrong. Ran doesn’t know these things, but luckily being a hardened member of the Order, he has a similar process he likes to call “expecting the unexpected.”

Ran’s first impression of Jackie was what he read in his file— he was a criminal, and possibly smart enough to lead all of Subbin into battle. His second impression was that Jackie, in person, was a lot less menacing than he’d been made out to be. Although of course, Ran is not stupid enough to believe right off the bat that Jackie is dumb— instead he investigated for much longer to see if the naivety was a farce being put up.

Ran’s third impression, therefore, was that Jackie must be hiding something. And after a good amount of observing, and thinking, and speaking to the guy, Ran’s… maybe fourth impression was that Jackie had some skill in fighting and an incredible amount of dumb luck. In his expert opinion (for he would consider himself an expert on how Jackie works now that he has spent a day with him), no real information about Subbin would be lost if he assassinated Jackie now. Or, tonight to tomorrow morning when the poison took complete effect.

Unfortunately for Ran, as he would probably do good to learn, fourth impressions, and yes, even fourth impressions made by skilled assassins, are often just as wrong as the first ones.

The General wiggles his fingers in front of himself, and then he pushes the table harshly away and stands up.

“I’m going to go talk to the King,” Jackie says, and he smiles, even though he sounds a lot more nervous than he did seconds ago.

“Oh, well, good luck,” Ran says, and he smiles back. General Jackie will probably be dead sometime next morning. Ran used a slow-acting poison. Because he’s classy like that.

He sits in his spot at the table, watching Jackie walk away towards the head of the table.

Maybe he should eavesdrop on this. A little more info before Jackie dies won’t hurt.

Ran stands from his seat, pushing it back into the table (making sure the legs don’t squeak on the floor), and then he pads quickly across the dining hall. He scoots around jovial party-goers, counting on them to not notice him in the volume and chaos of the room. The multiple chandeliers and the crowds of people make the place overwhelming-- women chat to themselves in small groups, servants spin around with empty plates of food (presumably taking them back for cleaning), esteemed citizens surround the king, and yet more guests visit a small bar near the back.

Ran sidles up to the salad bar and tilts his ears in the King’s direction.

“Ah, my general,” Porkius is saying. “This is all in celebration of you, you know.”

“Really? Well, thank you!” Jackie replies. “I’m wondering about— the work, and all that. When, how, where. Gimme the Deets, if you will.”

A ram beside Ran looks at him weird, so he grabs a plate and pretends to be dishing up a salad for himself. Salad is kind of okay, Ran supposes. He’s had it once or twice before. But it’s not as good as meat.

“Ah, yes, Deets, of course,” Porkius drawls. “Well, we’ll take down the colosseum, but before it comes down, you all can train in there. That’s fine, right?”

“You all?”

Ran picks up a small red fruit and sticks it in his salad. He forgets what it’s called… Cherry tomato?

“Yes, we’ve been enlisting people for quite a while already. Only people that want to, but like, it’s a job, so. Quite a lot of people want to. You know how it is.”

Ran sniffs the spinach and decides to add it, even if he doesn’t trust it. About as much as he trusts the Pig King, if he’s honest.

“Oh, that’s good. Have we got any military books in this palace? You know, so I can read up on techniques?”

“Eh, we’ve got a few libraries. I wouldn’t know where, I’m not too big on… reading.”

Ran uses a fork to stab a few of the plants on his plate and crunch on them. They crackle in his mouth in a satisfying, though strange, way.

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“I certainly hope so. I don’t need to tell you what happened to my last general.”

Ran swallows nervously, ears pricked for Jackie’s response.

“No. You don’t.”

—

Ran looks at the key in his hand, and then up at the door again, a few times. Room 1212.

Why are the rooms numbered? Ran thinks irritably, this is a castle, not a hotel.

He sticks the key into the lock and turns it, hearing a clicking noise. The thing creaks as it swings open.

“Woah! Neighbors!” laughs a voice behind Ran, and he whirls around on high alert. The man behind him raises his palms placatingly.

Oh. It’s the guy again— Watson.

“Hello, Watson. Nice to see you,” Ran greets like he hadn’t been startled. “…Are we neighbors?”

Watson points to the door across the hall from Ran’s. “That’s my place, so yes. Want to check it out?”

“Sure,” he replies, but he stays on guard as the man unlocks the door and turns on the lights.

Watson steps in first, pushing open the door, but Ran is close behind with a gasp of awe.

“You’ve personalized it already?” The desk is covered in books, clothes are folded on the bed, and interesting fossils hang from the ceiling. Ran turns a slow circle in wonder. Watson’s room smells like it’s been recently cleaned. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, since earlier today, same as you! I’ll admit I left the party early, though.”

Ran tilts his head up to look at one of the skeletons suspended from the ceiling, which seems small and rodent-like. “That’s interesting.”

Watson follows his gaze. “Oh what, my stuff?” He laughs to himself and picks a suitcase off the floor to move towards the desk. “I’m a bit of a traveling researcher. These are just some of the things I’ve collected over the years.”

“A traveler?” Ran asks curiously, stepping over the quiver of arrows on the floor near the bed and checking out the papers on the desk. They appear to be full of messy notes on printed articles.

Ran lifts up a biology book and flicks through the pages for a moment, thinking about how much he’d like to read these.

“Mhm. I honestly don’t expect to stay here very long.”

Watson takes off his vest and lays it on the back of the desk chair, smiling gently at the enderman. As scruffy as he might look and sound, he also feels very warm. If Ran weren’t busy bringing about this empire’s downfall, he would befriend this human.

Maybe he still can, even. After all, there’s no limit to the amount of reconnaissance he should do.

“If you ever need to borrow any of my shit, don’t hesitate to come right on over,” The man says, tapping his fingers on the chair. “Have a good night, Ran.”

Ran’s large, catlike green eyes crinkle up at the sides. “You as well.”

He leaves the room feeling warm, which makes it very disappointing to walk through his own door and see the empty, bland walls.

Ran slides his long coat off, dropping it to the side of the bed before collapsing onto the sheets. Ran sighs in deep appreciation of the soft surface beneath him, which is unlike what he’s used to in his daily life.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, wishing he could make the ache in his head go away. Perhaps while he’s asleep he’ll feel better.

Ran checks that his knives are in easy grabbing-distance, and that the door is properly locked, before he climbs back into the bed and falls asleep.

In his dreams, he thinks about reporting all this new info to the Order and the Council, and about how useful it will be.

Chapter Text

Ran is beginning to regret taking this job.

Well, no, no, it doesn’t do any good to think like that. He doesn’t regret taking the job, he’s currently… “adapting to new and different challenges”.

Yes, that’s a more polite explanation. You could say that at a job interview.

The sun is blisteringly hot in the sky above the colosseum, and Ran wishes that this arena wasn’t one of the only buildings in Subbin without a tree canopy cover. He wipes his forehead with one hand, shaking out his metal arm— it hurts to touch because of how hot it’s gotten.

Ran doesn’t usually have to change outfits for his missions, but he’s also never worked in a desert before, so maybe this was to be expected. In any case, the new cargo techwear pants he’d made for himself had just as many pockets as his work jacket, and he’d managed to fill them with just as many deadly weapons. Other than that, having removed his jacket, Ran only wore a tank top (which he’d borrowed from Watson).

In front of him were rows of Subbin citizens, all of whom had come to join the army. Ran was interested to learn that Subbin didn’t employ a draft, instead merely advertised that the army was open, and took in volunteers alongside the other soldiers. It was surprising how many had actually shown up of their own free will.

Although, they were getting paid, so maybe that was why.

“Isn’t it great?” asks a cheerful voice to his left, and Ran’s mood abruptly takes a turn for the even worse.

General Jackie slaps Ran’s shoulder heartily and then turns to smile at him. Unfortunately, he is completely unharmed, alive, and dressed in war general’s clothes.

It’s been three days since the celebration feast, and the man is as fine as ever.

‘Slow acting poison’, Ran’s ass.

“Have you done any reading on army drills?” Jackie asks, and though his grin is wide there’s a bit of a squeeze to it that betrays his anxiety. “I’ve done a bit, but like, I’m not sure I’m suddenly going to be a professional.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Ran answers dryly, his hands clasped behind his back to make him look more businesslike. Jackie gives him a squinty look.

“Are you mad at me? I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“It is possible,” the enderman answers very slowly, leaning backwards in an attempt to distance himself from the general, “That I’m anxious to start the morning’s work.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Jackie mumbles aloud. “You’re right, you’re so right. I brought a box. I’m gonna go stand on that now.”

He turns and jogs towards the front of the colosseum, where, sure enough, a large wooden box has been pushed into position in front of the crowd of people. Ran sighs deeply in expectation for what he’s going to have to deal with now that he’s failed.

The general grips the side of the box (which comes around his chin level) and deftly hauls himself up onto it before standing onto his feet. He clears his throat, causing the murmuring in the pit to quiet down as the citizens turn to look at him.

“…Hey everybody!” starts Jackie. Someone coughs into the silence. Ran shifts his weight slightly, his eyes flicking towards the man with tufty hair and ears currently pushing a cart into the arena.

“Uhh... Well, first of all it’s nice to see all of you, here, and willing to fight for your empire! That’s cool!”

Most of the members of the audience are dressed in various shades of blue, and all of them have goggles atop their heads. Ran had been curious about these particular fashion statements when he first arrived, but after a little bit of research he’d realized that they were meant to protect their eyes from the sand. Therefore goggles were usually worn by anyone who was running a long distance, traveling through the desert, or, of course, fighting in this big giant sand pit.

“When you’re all ready, we’re going to be going through our first drills— guns! Yeah. We’re starting with guns. You’re not supposed to start with guns, but, I don’t really give a shit, so, we are.”

The blue, on the other hand, is a slightly more scientific thing that Ran had to ask Watson about. Apparently, the color of clothing garments correlates to the way they react to light from the sun. Black fabric blocks the harmful rays the best, but it traps heat against your skin. White fabric is breezy feeling, but allows you to easily be burnt. Blue is like the juxtaposition between these two fabrics, which is why it is the kind most people in Subbin wear. Perfect for life in the harshly heated desert city.

Jackie claps. “So, everyone bear in mind how much you can carry— some of these guns are heavy, okay?”

Everyone else’s eyes are drawn to where Ran’s been watching a man push a heavy cart into position. His blue jacket is unzipped to allow any breeze in, and small ears on the top of his head prick as he realizes he’s being looked at.

“Uhh… anyone want some guns? I’ve got some guns over here. Can hand them out,” he says, and when Jackie nods the okay to the crowd, they start shuffling over to surround the cart guy.

Jackie raises his voice to be heard over the collective. “Be very careful with those! Do not set them off accidentally! It takes one flinch to mistakenly blast through someone’s leg!”

Ran’s eyebrows raise thoughtfully. It’s like a very small bell has just dinged in his mind.

He begins to slide into the mass of people awkwardly, making his way towards the front man who is nervously handing out weapons one at a time.

“Hey there,” Ran starts, “I’ll take one of those from you, uh… what’s your name?”

“Me? My name?” the gun-man asks, and he smooths down the spiky tufts of his hair a little. “Oh, I’m just Connor.”

“Right. Connor, could I please…?”

“Yeah! Yeah, sure.”

Connor passes Ran a large rifle, and the enderman hefts it in his grip for just a moment before he’s pretty sure he knows how to work it. He’s studied a lot of guns on the Overworld, whether he’d stolen them or built them himself, and he’d like to think he’s very good at knowing how to make them go off.

Everyone else is, of course, studying their newly acquired weapons as well, and General Jackie is observing it all from his box.

Ran is in the middle of a packed crowd. It would be so laughably easy to falsely set off his firearm and kill the General.

But, that’s not quite secretive enough for him.

So instead, he elbows the person beside him, causing their gun to misfire.

There’s a crack and a whizzing noise and a thunk as the bullet hits its mark in the center of General Jackie’s chest.

It takes a second for the crowd to realize what just happened, but when they see the burned spot of his hoodie on his chest as the general slowly tilts his head down to look, they gasp and scream. One man even faints. Ran feigns shock along with them.

“Well. Ladies and gentlemen,” says Jackie after a moment, staring, and then patting at the spot over his heart for a second. “I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot, but… well, it takes more than that to kill a ravager, if you know what I’m saying.”

With the cheerful attitude of the rabbit who’d just outsmarted rabbit-season, Jackie unzips the front of his heavy coat to reveal that underneath his general clothing he’s been wearing heavy armor.

“It’s a good thing I was dumb enough to wear three layers!” Jackie crows, and a few audience members nervously chuckle, like they don’t know how else to respond. Jackie raps on the chest plate a few times, allowing everyone to hear the clanging of the metal that apparently saved his life.

Ran thinks that if it were possible for him to grind his teeth, he’d be doing so right now. Harshly. As it is, his fists are clenched so tightly that his nails are in danger of puncturing his palms.

“That sure was close, Mr. General,” says Connor behind Ran, shifting to look apprehensively at the arms load of weapons he has on him. “I think we all should be much more careful with our firearms.”

“Right you are, Connor! This has been a lesson well learned, I suppose!”

Ran stares at the sand under his feet, twisting it a little bit. To his mental notes he adds that Jackie is apparently immune to being shot accidentally by a rifle in an area where accidental rifle fire is likely to happen.

Damn. Well, he can’t say the General isn’t prepared.

From atop his box, with a large grin, Jackie surveys the audience. “Now. Where’s my demonstration partner Ran? I feel he could give you lot a tutorial on gun usage. Where’s he at? Tall, dark, handsome?”

The citizens standing near Ran shuffle away until he’s more or less revealed from his hiding spot in the middle of the crowd. His ears flatten against his head, chest swirling through a startling, burning mix of anger and embarrassment.

“Aha!” says Jackie before he looks down at Ran and beams. As Ran meets his gaze, all of his info about the General runs through his head in an instant, catalogued by threat.

He’s not very intellectual. He acts on his feet. He’s trained to fight, but not trained in stealth. He’s sadistically cheerful. He’s non-suspicious, trusting. He should, really, be quite easy to off.

Ran makes a conscious effort to unclench his fists.

“Let’s begin.”

——

“Oh, um… I don’t think that’s right,” says the cat-girl in front of Ran, pushing her goggles more into her face. “The General just said that you’re supposed to keep your weight on your feet—“

“Who is the instructor here, me? Or you?” Ran interrupts pointedly. He’s already at his wits’ end with these people. Some of them barely know how to fight, and those who do seem to consider themself superior enough to lecture Ran on his fighting. It’s not his fault that he’s trained to be an assassin and not a soldier, for Nightmare’s sake.

Ran clears his throat and starts again, getting into position, and pretending to hold an imaginary rifle to his shoulder in a high ready position.

“Okay, copy me, Crisp—“

“Crumb.”

“Crumb— just act like we’re on the front lines and we’re going into enemy territory.”

The girl hesitantly mimics Ran’s stance, watching him with dark eyes. One of her ears twitches.

“Okay, so that’s a march forward then, or. Whatever. And then you keep your weight balanced so you can turn or aim your weapon.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a tap on Ran’s shoulder and he whirls around to grab the General’s wrist.

“Hello Ran,” Jackie greets, smiling ear to ear like Ran doesn’t have his forearm in an ironclad grip. He’s wearing his General uniform, but without the coat (which he usually leaves near the entrance. If he actually wore it he’d probably suffer from heat stroke). “How’s the training going?”

Ran stares at him, even meets his eyes for just a moment despite being so unused to the contact.

I hate it here. I hate having to teach these people how to defend themselves like babies. I hate you, especially, and I am going to poison your water as soon as we take a lunch break.

“It’s going well,” Ran replies, releasing the wrist and taking a step backwards. “I’ve been teaching… Crayon, here.”

“Crumb,” corrects the cat girl, her eyes narrowing beneath her goggles.

“Ask me if I care.”

Jackie’s eyes dart back and forth between the two for a moment. “Right... Well, Crumb, why don’t you start break early? I gotta borrow Ran here for a second.”

He takes Ran’s arm and drags him off to the side of the pit, although they can still hear the soldier’s “harumph!” noise from here.

“Ran, I need your help, my dude,” Jackie starts, and Ran immediately notices he seems a lot more nervous than normal. Perfect. An opening.

“What do you need?

These last two days of training young soldiers have been hell for Ran. He thinks maybe he’s done enough teaching and workout drills to last him his lifetime. He cannot be bothered to even remember most of their names or faces, let alone properly teach them anything useful.

Jackie rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment, and then he balances himself against Ran with two hands (which is a very annoying intrusion on personal space, but Ran will let it slide).

“The King is going to check on us,” Jackie mumbles. “So, like. We need to be in tip-top shape. The army does.”

“Oh dear,” Ran says aloud, but inside his mind is leaping at this chance. Doesn’t the King behead people who fail to meet his expectations? What better and roundabout way to ensure Jackie’s demise with this?

Jackie raises one of his hands up to his mouth and begins worrying his nails between his teeth.

Ran rolls his eyes. “So I’m guessing you need me to whip these guys into proper formation before he gets here?”

“Oh, would you? Thanks, Ran, you’re the best randomly assigned business partner I’ve ever had.”

“… Alright.”

Getting the volunteers in order is easy.

Easy, if herding a group of one thousand butterflies up and getting them to fly in an exact straight line is easy.

Which is to say: it’s actually not easy at all, and makes Ran want to rip his earrings out in sheer frustration.

More information to add to his knowledge of Jackie: unable to organize his own troops, also possibly lazy.

Luckily, because Ran is taller than them and has a somewhat deep voice, he’s eventually able to get all the members of their low quality army to stand in roughly a correct formation.

He informs them that someone is coming to watch them, and that they’re going to have to do drills in place (there are loud groans in reaction to this news, and Ran doesn’t entirely blame them).

“You don’t actually have to do the drills,” Ran informs them as soon as Jackie is out of earshot, presumably to meet the king. “They’re optional.”

There’s some hopeful murmuring among the group, and a young fish monster boy in particular looks very happy about this (he’s always wheezing, what with how hot it is out here and his water-built features).

Ran keeps his face perfectly neutral, fighting the urge to grin. Ideally the recruits will believe his lie without question and ruin their debut for the King, who will promptly want Jackie removed. Or more specifically, he will want Jackie’s head removed. From his body.

The General appears just at the moment, sporting a professional smile, and just behind him follows the avian who had been sat next to him at the dinner party last week. Ran is momentarily confused as they grow closer.

Jackie meets his eyes briefly and shrugs. At the same time, the person beside him spreads their raven wings, showing off their fancy silver and blue robes.

“Hello there, troops. I’m Captain Cosmos— you may know me as one of the king’s parliament council. I’ll be overseeing the progress of the army. General, go right on ahead.”

Jackie looks back and forth between the dark-skinned avian and the crowd before he steps forward.

“Right! Um, begin your drills with push-ups!”

Nobody moves. In fact, the volunteers begin to side-eye each other in confusion.

General Jackie’s grin stretches painfully wider.

“I said… begin your drills!”

Almost imperceptibly, his hands are shaking.

Captain Cosmos arches their eyebrow and then begins to write on a small clipboard they have clasped in one hand.

In the awkward silence, everyone looks at everyone else to know what to do. Nobody moves.

One of the recruits falls to the ground suddenly, and begins pushing up, starting the drill with intense vigor. Upon seeing this, the other volunteers follow suit, and soon everyone is running through their exercises, despite the awkward silent shuffling.

Ran inches around the people on the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, until he’s stood closer to the other two standing people in the pit.

Jackie mouths silently, “What happened?”. He looks truly terrified. Ran only shrugs, tampering down his excitement.

“Well,” starts the Captain in a voice low enough that only Jackie and Ran can hear. They turn the page on the clipboard and begin writing again. “I trust I don’t need to tell you that an inability to take direction is not only a sign of poor leadership, but can be outright deadly on the battlefield?”

“I know. I’m… sorry.” Jackie claps his hands together and rubs his thumbs, his shoulders hunching in on themselves slightly.

“Mhm,” the raven avian continues as their wings fluff up slightly. Their hair is long and pulled back away from their face, to keep out of their vision as they work.

Ran waits patiently, absently watching the recruits in the sand going through their different exercises.

“I am also aware that it’s been only a week since you were assigned these volunteers.” The Captain looks up from the clipboard to make eye contact with Jackie— an unnatural sight for the enderman. “I’ll give you some leeway here since we really don’t plan to initiate conflict for quite some time, but, please. Get it together.”

“Y— Yes! Of course!” Jackie salutes, and the avian nods, before opening their wings and launching themself into the air, shooting through the top of the pit and disappearing from sight.

Ran watches them go with something like rage boiling under his skin.

The General elbows him in the side. “Lucky I’m so charming, huh?”

“Truly fortunate,” Ran responds through gritted teeth.

——

“Watson, I need some advice.”

The man turns around from his desk, his eyes crinkling upward as he smiles at Ran. “Of course; what about?”

Ran wrings his claws while the wheels in his mind slowly turn. How on earth is he supposed to word this predicament to Watson?

Ran feels himself grow hotter in embarrassment as Watson sits and stares patiently at him.

“General Jackie’s not… vulnerable, enough, with me,” Ran tries, hoping to whatever gods are listening that his wording isn’t too suspicious.

Watson raises an eyebrow, but instead of glaring, he only looks amused. “So it’s relationship advice you need… oh dear.”

“Maybe?”

Watson gestures to his bed at the opposite wall and Ran goes to sit on it, watching as the man turns backwards in his chair to face him, his legs straddling the seat and his chin resting on the top of the back. It smells of chemicals and paper in here, as usual.

“So… elaborate on the situation for me some more.”

Ran takes a moment to breathe and think back. What was the situation?

He’s an assassin member of the Order sent by the Council to kill Jackie. Jackie is a dangerous former killer-for-hire whose crimes landed him in the Pit. Jackie, while oblivious to the art of stealth, is definitely trained to fight, and has the potential to bring the Subbin Empire to the top should his good luck continue.

He’s also, apparently, a lot harder to kill than Ran would have first figured of such a shortsighted kid.

Ran looks down at the floor instead of at Watson. There are some large maps rolled up against the foot of the bed, and books with bits of paper sticking out of them stacked near the desk.

“… I’m not sure how to elaborate beyond what I’ve already said.”

Watson makes a small noise in response, rubbing his thumbs along the top of his wooden chair. Then he sighs in amusement.

“Well, the best way to foster vulnerability in a relationship isn’t to ask for it, it’s to… meet them halfway. Lead by example.”

Tracing the binding of one of the genetics textbooks with his eyes, Ran asks, “What do you mean?”

Watson shrugs. The few lanterns in the room cast warm light and flickery shadows around them.

“I mean that you need to be vulnerable first. Reveal shit about yourself, you know? Show it’s a… no-judgement zone. Then people are gonna be more willing to open up to you.”

Ran fiddles with the ties on his pants for a second, listens as Watson scratches the scruff on his chin and then leans backwards.

“If that makes sense…?” he finishes, trying to look at Ran’s face, although the enderman keeps his eyes down.

“It does, actually.” Ran breathes in deeply and then releases it, his brain slowly clicking together a small thing like a plan.

——

Ran knows he needs to start somewhere, and while Jackie is having one of his think sessions seems like a good enough place.

Jackie’s “think sessions” are what Ran calls it when the boy sulks off to his corner of the Pit area and begins pacing. This used to almost never happen, but recently it’s become an almost daily occurrence. (It’s possible the stress of running a whole army is starting to get to him, but the idea of Jackie being stressed is about as likely to occur to Ran as the thought of giving up on the Order.)

Sometimes he even wanders over the recruits and speaks to them in low voices for a moment before going back to his pacing.

Most people avoid him while he’s doing this, because if they try to interrupt him he usually snaps at them in a way very unlike himself.

Luckily, today Ran is not feeling like most people.

Jackie jumps as Ran taps on his shoulder, and the enderman tries to do something like a smile at the startled boy’s face.

“Ran!” the General exclaims, scooting backwards on the bench to make room. “I didn’t expect you to join me for lunch break!”

Ran glances at the empty space, but doesn’t sit down. “Yes, I usually don't.”

Jackie awkwardly stares at him for a moment, smile frozen on his face, before he starts, “So what brings you—“

“What’s your favorite food?!” Ran blurts, and then cringes, and then pretends he meant to do that, keeping his face stoic.

Jackie’s face stays neutral (although it begins to lean towards confusion). “I guess… food always tastes better when it’s expensive. The most expensive things to eat are, like, seafood. Why?”

Ran makes a split second decision and sits down on the bench, his knees pulling upward because of how short it is. He can already feel the cramps developing in his legs.

“Um,” starts Ran, his eyes searching the sandy ground, “I’m still new in town, so I was wondering what food I should try.”

“Oh of course, that makes sense,” Jackie says, tapping one finger to his chin. “You’re from Mempurr.”

Suddenly, it feels like the pit has gone absolutely silent. Even the large construction machines that are slowly taking down the colosseum seem very quiet now.

“Is he really from Mempurr?” murmurs one volunteer around her sandwich. Ran feels his skin prickle as he realizes maybe he didn’t choose the best fake backstory he could have. The faces around him are filled with hope, confusion, or envy.

After the first recruit spoke, the floodgates open. Several of them rush forward and begin surrounding Ran, assaulting him in a barrage of questions and waving their arms excitedly.

“What’s it really like in Mempurr?!”

“Is it true there’s doctors around every corner?”

“Are the rooftop gardens as big as the ones in Subbin?”

“Is the running water free?!”

“Do people actually sail boats?!”

“Uhhh,” stutters Ran, leaning backwards. His ears flatten against his head.

Jackie stands up and inserts himself between the crowd and Ran, holding out one flat palm to dissuade them from coming closer. “Lay off the guy, will you? He doesn’t need to be interrogated by you lot.”

“Sorry, General,” one of the recruits apologizes, her long rabbit ears falling.

Ran is hardly paying attention, too busy thinking of a possible solution to this problem. Should he make up things about Mempurr and hope no one calls him out? That seems far too risky.

Ran hadn’t put a whole lot of thought into his supposed backstory— mainly because he’d been expecting to stay here for much shorter of a time.

Jackie sits back down, satisfied, and begins fiddling with the small tupperware container his lunch was kept in.

“So. You’re not actually from Mempurr, are you.”

“Uh.” Ran’s plans are really falling apart at the seams around this guy. Why is this happening to him? What did he do to spite whatever beings run the universe?

“It’s okay,” Jackie giggles, patting Ran’s shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

…What is Ran going to report to the Council tonight.

——

Ran’s dreams are muddy, and empty, as usual.

But at one point (of which he’s not quite sure when), he realizes that everything around him has come into focus.

And he’s on Terminus.

Green towers shimmer in the distance, dust particles float all around him in the fuzzy-looking void.

In front of him is a single enderman, flickering briefly as the magic that has brought it to Ran’s mind fluctuates. Five small gems are embedded into the skin on its chest.

“Hello, Ran,” says Five in endermen vwoops. It’s a shock to hear after speaking so much Common.

“Greetings,” Ran responds, looking around at the greenish void.

Five shimmies a little awkwardly and tries to start the report. “So… basically… I hope this isn’t too much trouble, you know, but. What we’ve been hearing, or rather not hearing… is that, uh…”

“Jackie’s not dead,” Ran says simply, his jaw tensing in disappointment.

Five nods enthusiastically, its eyes flickering upward repeatedly like it doesn’t want to be here.

“We don’t mean to be too pressuring, but, you see, it’s been a month now. And your original report… Kinda… perhaps I’m specifying wrong, but—“

“I said I’d be done in less than a week,” Ran recalls with a wince. Mist swirls around his feet, reminding him he’s not really here. Is he… failing? Failing a mission? He doesn’t fail missions. He’s perfectly dependable and useful.

“Yes, that’s accurate.” Five rubs its hands together. “Listen… I don’t mean to come across as rude. Really I don’t! But, if you’re unable to complete your task, we can just send a replacement—“

“No— uh, I mean, I’ve got this,” Ran confirms, his fists clenching. “There’s no need for damage control.”

Five tilts its head, purple eyes glowing thoughtfully. “Are you sure? We’d just need to move a few key assets out of the city, and then send someone with a bomb. It’d be a simple and effective fix, if not a bit casualty-heavy.”

‘Casualty-heavy’? Ran thinks to himself, unreasonably perturbed. There’s thousands of citizens in that city— people with lives and friends.

“No. That won’t be necessary.”

Five makes a crackly sound that Ran knows is laughter. It isn’t as nice as a human laugh.

“Awesome!” Five says, and then it stares directly into Ran’s eyes, causing all the spines on his neck to stand straight up. “Get back to us soon!”

Ran wakes up shaking, and he rips the blankets off of his bed to get rid of the feeling of eyes on him.

——

“Gyre,” Ran says flatly, mustering up all the energy he had left and speaking in a similar tone to a woman talking to third graders at her wits’ end, “Why do I bother teaching you if you’re not going to learn.”

“Sorry…” The fish monster boy whines from the floor, rubbing his tail. “I just can’t get it right.”

“It’s a difficult move,” Ran shrugs, twirling the staff in his hands to show off. “It’ll take more than one try. I’ll help you, but you can’t throw a fit and give up on it.”

“… Alright. But can we at least have lunch break first?”

Ran rolls his eyes, but he’s not actually all that annoyed. “Sure. I’ve got to go speak to the General anyway.”

A few minutes later, Ran meets Jackie on the back benches and holds up a surprise for him.

“I’ve bought you lunch.”

Jackie looks down at the seafood on the plate in front of him, and his mouth drops open.

“You bought me lunch? You’re officially my new favorite guy. I hope you know that.”

Ran shrugs sheepishly. “I just got what you said you liked. And some for myself.”

Ran actually had tried the salmon, and truthfully, didn’t like it all that much. Which made him feel less bad about it when he filled Jackie’s portion with poison. (A different poison then the one he’d used originally, obviously. That poison was dumb poison and it had failed him.)

Jackie brandishes a fork and begins gleefully digging into the fish, making mumbled comments through the mouth full of food about how delicious it was. Ran only nodded along, waiting for the poison to take effect.

It doesn’t happen after a minute.

It doesn’t happen after five minutes.

It doesn’t happen after the General cleaned the plate and even licked some of it to get any last dregs of food off.

Ran feels more and more horrified as time goes on, watching as Jackie puts away the plate and thanks him for the meal before heading off to continue training the newer recruits.

Ran is left standing alone, his fists clenched in front of him, his heart beating fast.

Why is this guy impossible to kill?

——

It’s one week after Ran’s meeting with Five and two days after Ran’s failed attempt at using a sniper rifle (apparently those things can jam, and apparently the castle guard doesn’t let just anybody up onto the roof at five in the morning) when Ran finally has an in to Jackie’s palace life.

And by palace life, he means, specifically, palace room, which isn’t too far from where Ran and Watson reside.

And by in he means that Jackie invited him to “hang out” because he “had something cool to show him”.

If Ran wasn’t fairly sure that Jackie wasn’t trained in the art of competent stealth, he’d be worried for his life.

The place itself is… small. There’s clothing strewn about, piles of unorganized papers about all sorts of things, and pages of what seem like Jackie’s own notes around.

The light is kept kind of low, and there’s a small cabinet on one side with a door to the bathroom.

“This is your room?” Ran asks, wrinkling up his face a little. He is quite unimpressed.

Jackie shrugs. “You know, my father used to say that home is where you hang your hat.”

“…I haven’t got any hats,” Ran replies, perplexed. Jackie only smiles softly.

Because of course ‘home is where you hang your hat’ is an old saying, and it doesn’t literally mean to hang a hat, as most humans, including Jackie, are aware. It means something more along the lines of that as long as you live in a space and make it yours, it can truly be home.

Ran, being an enderman, doesn’t understand that old saying beyond its literal meaning… the same way he doesn’t understand what it’s like to have a proper home.

“Anyway, what I wanted to show you was this,” Jackie says, casually, before tearing the wall down and revealing a conspiracy board.

“Wha— wha—?” Ran’s eyes travel around the red thread and the papers. Newspaper clippings, sticky notes, photos, handwritten letters— this is work. This is serious digging. But why? And about what?

Ran can’t make a noise to express how incoherent he feels. Jackie looks at him and then turns towards the board.

“I’ve been working on this since we got to the castle.” His face is uncharacteristically somber as he studies the lines of writing. “It’s about the missing children.”

“M— missing children?” Ran can hardly catch his breath. One of the photos catches his eye— a picture of a girl who can’t be more than eight beaming at the camera. The sticky mark next to her proclaims ‘MISSING 5 MONTHS’.

There’s a list— a list of people gone, of who’s looking for them.

Thoughts about where they were when they disappeared, who could be behind it.

Questions about the motivations— motivations! For stealing children?

Is this an elaborate prank? It must be, right?

But Ran’s been forcibly subjected to a lot of Jackie’s humor this past month, and this doesn’t match up at all.

So are children really missing? Real children? Out there and kidnapped and helpless?

Ran’s skin has gone clammy and cold all down his back. He sits down on the floor as his mind whirls.

“It’s a lot to take in. I know. I only heard whispers among the palace staff when I first moved in but as soon as I started looking into it...” Jackie steps forward and corrects one of the loops of red string. “It’s fucked up stuff. I’m telling you this because I trust you—“

He trusts me?

“— But also because I think you’re smart.” Jackie turns around to look at Ran, although Ran reflexively looks at the ground.

“I don’t think you’ve got the right guy.”

Ran wrings his claws together, shuddering slightly. Should he have not said that? Isn’t this his in? Shouldn’t he agree to help Jackie with… whatever this is, so that he can finish killing him?

Jackie kneels on the ground so they’re at eye level.

“I do have the right guy, Ran. I hit a dead end quite a while ago and I need another pair of eyes. You’ve been helping me with work stuff for the past month… can’t this be a work thing too?”

Can’t this be a work thing, too?

Ran thinks about what he knows about Jackie. His intel, so to speak.

He acts on his feet. He’s trained to fight, but not trained in stealth. He’s sadistically cheerful. He’s trusting. He apparently works to uncover conspiracies and missing persons assignments. He’s charming. He’s someone Ran needs to be vulnerable with, to “lead by example”.

He’s surprisingly hard to off.

Jackie’s hand is outstretched, and maybe if Ran were human he’d think that was a particularly cheesy gesture. But as it stands, Ran isn’t human, so all he sees is the boy across from him offering to help him to his feet.

And at the same time, offering to be partners. In this… what is this? A mystery? A mission?

A mission.

“I…” Ran looks up. Jackie’s eyes are determined. Hopeful. Blue.

Ran sighs deeply.

He grabs the outstretched hand and uses it to haul himself to his feet.

“Oh… what the hell?”

Chapter Text

“Do you really think this will work?” asks Jackie, rocking back and forth on his feet. His hair is off-kilter, giving away that he clearly hasn’t slept well, but it’s also swept to the side like he’d attempted to remedy it before arriving.

He’s wearing one of his General coats (without the hood), and the buttons are reflecting brightly, showing off his high rank in the situation. Even Jackie’s shoes are shining, their luster amplified as much as his blue eyes.

“It’s likely it will.” He doesn’t know why Jackie’s asking him when this wasn’t his idea in the first place, but whatever.

Ran finds all of this wholly unnecessary, but he’d still dressed up for the General’s happiness, if nothing else (an annoyed Jackie is not something he feels like dealing with at this hour of the morning; the guy can be downright unpleasant when he wants to be). His handmade coat is inlaid with lots of embroideries he’d done over the years, so it looks like it’s worth a lot more than it is.

Jackie hums anxiously, contrasting the whirring sound of the machine pulling them upwards.

“Do I… look okay?”

“You look nice.”

Ran finds a meeting with royalty to be much less scary than anything else he’s done over the years. It’s only Jackie hemming and hawing that’s getting to him a little.

The whirring sound of their lift teeters to a stop, and the doors hiss as they slide open. Ran steps out into the top floor of the palace, noting that the air up here is remarkably chilly.

Jackie follows him out, squaring his shoulders and marching down the hall. It’s a bit funny looking, because no matter how much Jackie squares his shoulders or stands on his tip-toes, to Ran, he will always look incredibly short.

As they walk down the hall, the ceiling grows higher and higher, to the point of ridiculousness. Many windows in the hall let in the sunlight (which is unusual for Subbin) and make the entire place glitter with gold.

Finally they reach a set of doors that stretch all the way up to the top of the ceiling. Ran stares up at it in awe. It’s inlaid with gold and carved with intricate patterns.

Jackie raises one first, hesitates, and then uses the door knocker.

They wait.

Jackie clears his throat awkwardly. They wait some more.

The wait isn’t actually anything more then around ten seconds, but Ran just cannot stand having to be stood next to the General with nothing to say, so those ten seconds feel a bit like someone took a hot iron press and dipped it in water before sticking it against his back.

The door creaks open, and standing there is a reindeer— a bipedal reindeer, anyway, with large dark eyes. He sees Ran and Jackie stood there and his eyebrows raise before he opens the door wider and gestures them in.

Jackie goes in first, walking with his chest forward and his chin raised. Ran follows behind, ducking his head out of habit as he goes under the door.

The deer man ushers away a group of people who’d been standing around the throne. Ran tracks them as they walk out the door— there’s thirteen, including Captain Cosmos, who gives the two boys a small nod on the way out. The reindeer follows the other eleven out the door and shuts it.

Ran turns back around to see Jackie is already marching forward to take a seat at the table. The enderman starts in that direction as well, but cranes his neck upward to check out the craftsmanship of the rafters— it seems the inside of the roof has been painted with legendary heroes and creatures of myth.

Chandeliers hang down and light up the round dark wood table Jackie is pulling a seat out of. The two windows on either side of the room are so wide he can see the rooftop gardens of the city going out into the distance. Given that it’s early morning, many of the gardens even have workers tending to the trees.

King Porkius is sitting on the other side of the round table, and he raises an eyebrow at them as they seat themselves.

“So what’s the issue here, gentlemen?”

Jackie folds his hands together, which Ran knows is just his way of keeping himself from fidgeting. “You may or may not have heard of this, your majesty, but in the past several months there’s been multiple suspicious disappearances of citizens. Specifically children.”

King Porkius doesn’t look altogether too bothered by this information. He pushes aside a few scrolls of half-written decrees. “I was aware of that, yes.”

“You were aware?” Jackie asks, his voice rising slightly. “And yet there’s nothing being done to stop it?”

King Porkius raises a single eyebrow, and he doesn’t move at all other than that— but his broad shoulders seem ten times larger, his dark eyes more bloodthirsty. He has people who annoy him executed very often, Ran remembers with a rising heartbeat.

He doesn’t like the tone Jackie’s taking. It could get him killed. Wait— that would actually be ideal. Maybe he doesn’t care that much.

Unless the King kills Ran too, by association? That could be an issue. Ran should attempt damage control of this situation.

He tries to give Jackie a panicked look. The General catches on and calms himself.

“Your Majesty, Ran Aetherman and I would like to request of you access to your resources— such as the archives and your many on-call experts in the scientific fields— so that we could work on the continuation of this case. And solve it. And save some kids.”

Do I want to solve this mystery?

Ran looks back and forth between the pig king and the boy general. He’s trying to kill the General. Isn’t helping him solve a mystery a bit counterproductive? Does he want this to fail, or not?

Then again, mystery solving means spending a lot of time with Jackie outside of work. Presumably, that would make him a lot easier to kill.

Ran is therefore fully on board with this mystery thing. Oh, and there’s also some kids that are missing. His spines prick a little at the thought. The idea is truly awful to ruminate on, and if he happens to find a few children along the way to killing Jackie, the Council probably won’t mind.

The King only looks tired as he pulls a quill from the drawer and dips it in one of the many inkwells scattered about. He lifts his head and squints at them for a moment.

“General Jackie. You do know we have a little thing called a war coming up?”

Jackie squeezes his hands together, squirming nearly imperceptibly. “Yes.”

“Well, this may be surprising, but wars need armies. And armies need generals,”

“I know, but—“

“And you, General Jackie,” Porkius finishes in a voice that sounds friendly and yet dangerous, “were hired for a reason. If you’re wasting your time off on side quests, how is the army going to be prepared? How will Subbin prevail against those who want to destroy us?”

The King makes a gesture with his hands, and suddenly the huge doors on the end of the room open, whooshing the displaced air as they do.

Ran feels chills travel up his spine.

“I appreciate your concerns, I do.” Porkius tightens his cape with one hand as Ran and Jackie rise to their feet. “But things are being done about it. I have very smart eyes on this. They just aren’t of your concern. Your concern should be the battlefield; I don’t want to waste my General on a frivolous mystery.”

With not much more preamble, the King sees them out the very same way they came in.

The double doors shut with a resounding clang.

——

“That was bullshit!” Jackie exclaims, kicking over a small wire waste bin. Ran watches with mild interest as the General fumes to himself before he eventually reaches down and rights the bin. “I mean it was, right?!”

“Uh… yeah,” Ran agrees noncommittally, shifting his weight. He’s stood in the corner of Jackie’s very messy room, watching the stomping from a safe distance.

“I can’t believe that, it’s stupid. There’s people missing, and King Porkius—“ Jackie is pacing now, kicking up stray leafs of paper on the floor, “is doing exactly jack and shit about it!”

Ran watches him collapse into his bed in a huff.

(What are Jack and Shit?)

“I’m overreacting,” Jackie mumbles, puffing his blonde bangs out of his eyes.

“You are,” says Ran even though he doesn’t relate at all. He’s almost never been startled into a furious state. “Sometimes we get upset.”

Jackie stares up at the ceiling. Ran continues to stand in the corner of his bedroom. It’s supremely awkward.

Ran begins to sweep the pages on the floor into a pile with his foot. He doesn’t really have a reason for doing this other than to avoid speaking to Jackie. Ran has a habit of avoiding speaking to people.

It’s a good one to have, considering he’s often been told he’s quite rude. But it’s a bad habit to have on this particular mission, which requires he get close enough to Jackie to learn about him, and eventually kill him.

Speaking of his mission— hasn’t his mission officially extended to include these children? Well not officially, exactly, about as unofficially as something could be. In any case, it had, though.

And what that means is that he needs to further his mission— find the children. Learn more about Jackie. Find a way to kill Jackie (very important). Go home.

There must still be a way they could do that, without the king's approval. After all, Ran is currently working on something the Council didn’t tell him to do. Although it’s still absolutely necessary to his mission and therefore not a punishable offense, or anything like that.

“You know you could always do it by yourself,” Ran suggests into the empty air, startling Jackie out of his thoughts. “Just because the King doesn’t know doesn’t mean you aren’t acting in his best interest.”

Jackie rolls onto his side to properly look at Ran, propping his cheek on one hand. “Duh, Ran. Duh. That’s what I’ve been doing. Which as you can see, has not exactly worked out.”

“Well, you didn’t have me before. I’m a lot smarter than you,” Ran says matter-of-factly.

Jackie’s eyes narrow momentarily. Then he laughs.

“You’re right! Okay, let me get over there. Could use a fresh pair of eyeballs on the ol’ conspiracy board.”

Jackie slides out of his bed and walks over to the curtained-off area, pulling the fabric aside to reveal the cork board of information. Ran had looked over it earlier, but he scans it again now.

“What sticks out to you? I need a line I can trace, because I’ve mostly hit dead ends—“

“This.” Ran sticks his fingers into a piece of lined notebook paper in the left of the board. It details a mention of someone who lost a child recently as an avenue into more people who have. “The name… it’s familiar to me.”

Jackie looks at the note and winces. “Oh, yep, it would be. Because you met the missing guy. And sadly, so did I.”

Ran blinks owlishly and tilts his head at Jackie. “What do you mean by that?”

The General just shakes his head and steps back.

“Let’s just go meet Maia Maximus.”

——

The spot they visit in the center of town is run-down and dirty. Actually, if Ran looks closely, it seems like most all of Subbin is run-down and dirty, just the area near the palace is perhaps the cleanest.

The sun is setting in the sky, turning the light around them dark orange. Only a bit of the light makes it through the tree canopies to the streets below, so citizens are starting to turn on the oil lamps in preparation for the night.

Jackie is leading the way, his step confident and his head held high. His hair looks glittery in this lighting, and when people on the street see him they automatically swerve out of his way.

Ran doesn’t know if that’s due to his new status as a servant of the King, or if he was notorious previously.

Promptly they arrive at a square that doubles as a small park. In the center of the park, an old woman sits on a bench, her white hair cascading down her shoulders as she leans towards a small crowd of children that are politely sitting in front of her.

Upon closer inspection, she’s holding a storybook, and as the two pass, Ran can make out her saying— “and then the music was safe, and the Dreamons were banished—“ before she’s out of earshot.

Perhaps catching the interest on Ran’s face, Jackie laughs and elbows him.

“It’s a popular wives’ tale. ‘The Dreamons Are Banished By The Horned Boy.’ Every kid who ever lived around here has probably heard that story.”

“So it’s not true?” Ran asks, ducking his head to avoid a board as they enter an alleyway. It’s significantly darker in here.

Jackie shrugs, turning out the end of the alley onto a different street. “Maybe parts of it are. I dunno. It’s a story.”

He stops in his tracks as they finally make it to the entrance of Codin Bar.

The place seems as run-down as anywhere around here, and the lights are on inside.

Jackie pulls open the door, causing a small ringing sound. The sound of the people inside grows clearer.

Both of them wince as they step inside the establishment, which seems to be full of people loudly enjoying their night. The lighting is low and most of the tables here are full. It seems this is a very frequented establishment.

“We’re just going to go to the bar,” Jackie tells Ran, raising his voice so he can be heard. Ran nods.

They both start squeezing their way between tables, worming through the crowd and heading to the back of the restaurant. The hubbub of the people is all around Ran as he travels, making him very uncomfortable.

“And you won’t believe what she said—“

“— all night, we were mining—“

“— your wife works at the canal, yes? Isn’t that money better the caves—“

Jackie eventually gets around a table between them and sticks closer to Ran in order to usher him towards the front faster.

“— She moved to Mempurr, of course, so she’s not coming back—“

“— Can’t even afford the few doctors we’ve got here—“

“— So old-fashioned, still makes us wear iron—“

A lot of the people in here seem inebriated, Ran is starting to notice. He briefly considers buying Jackie a drink, and then poisoning it, but dismisses the idea on the grounds that it would probably be absolutely ineffective. Stupid lousy useless poison.

“Hey there,” says one man who practically falls out of his seat onto Ran. He smiles friendlily, but awkwardly, seemingly drunk enough to not notice he’s being awkward. His two friends laugh. The physical contact immediately bothers Ran and he backs away. “…Handsome. How are you tonight?”

“And that’s enough of that,” Jackie says rather crossly, kicking the poor man’s chair out from under him so he falls onto the floor. Ran watches this with surprise until the General takes his arm and begins dragging him away.

Ran turns to face forward as Jackie makes it to the bar and raps impatiently on the counter. After only a few seconds, a head pops up from underneath.

This woman is tired, her hair is messy, and her pointy ears droop along with her ponytail. She turns behind her in the direction of the back door and shouts, “Snail, go set the barrel out, there’s a storm tonight!”

Her apron is messy and the wrinkles under her eyes are prominent as she sizes up Ran, and then—

“Oh,” the woman growls, and her wolflike ears flatten against her head. “You.”

Jackie grins in a way that seems inappropriately embarrassed. “Ms. Maximus, I—“

“I don’t want to hear it!” The bartender snaps (actually snaps, her teeth sound sharp) and she turns away to grab for a rag hanging behind her. “Nothing from you!”

Jackie drums his fingers on the counter as Ms. Maximus begins to scrub a spill on the counter with alarming ferocity. Ran looks back and forth between the two of them.

“There’s some missing children,” Ran starts. Jackie anxiously waves at him to stop talking but he’s already saying, “around twelve of them. Maybe you know anyone who has also lost a child recently?”

Ms. Maximus whirls around, her eyes alight with anger.

“You,” she seethes, “do not get to come here and ask for my help with missing children! Not after what you’ve done!”

Oh. Ran suddenly realizes where he remembers the name “Maximus” from. He winces, relaying information and making connections in his head. He now wishes he’d picked anyone else to ask.

Maybe Ran should’ve thought harder about his choices before acting on them.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not deluded,” Maia Maximus continues, turning away and becoming more subdued. “I know you didn’t have a choice in the matter. But waltzing in here— asking me and not, say, a schoolteacher— about— it’s simply absurd!”

If Ran knew the phrase ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’, he would’ve used it to aptly describe this situation. But he doesn’t, so he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” Jackie says, lowering his head.

Maia sniffs and turns away from them, beginning to pour a drink. Her hands shake and the liquid comes out wobbly, threatening to spill, but she manages to steady herself in a way that speaks of experience. Ran can’t help but wonder how much crying she’s done at this very same counter.

“Please see yourselves out,” she mutters.

Ran meets Jackie’s eyes. The General inclines his head towards a small exit that goes out to the back of the building, and the two of them are on their way.

Behind the bar, Jackie exhales deeply and drops to the pavement, resting his chin on his knees. Ran glances back and forth down the alley— which seems to be mainly full of barrels of storage for the bar and a large garbage bin— before he turns to the General.

“So that was not useful at all,” Ran says into the night air, which smells earthy and fresh tonight. The sun is almost gone at this point, and no more light makes it through the tree’s branches above. The street lamps have all been lit.

Jackie mumbles something into his knees.

“I’m sorry?”

“I feel bad,” Jackie whines. “I don’t like feeling bad.”

Ran shrugs. “You killed someone, I feel like that’s logical.”

“That’s not the half of it.” Jackie mutters. “I’ve killed lots of people. And I’m not supposed to think about it because it gets bad. I mean… most of ‘em were crooks or scammers or wealthy business owners. But surely some of them had families.”

His face goes back into his knees. Ran considers the small blonde on the ground beside him for a moment. Sadistic indeed. Does he just block out things that upset him? Does he just fail to consider when he may have done something wrong?

“Hey, what’re you doing back here?!”

Ran whips around in response to the small voice, prepared to unsheathe his knife.

He’s confronted with a small girl in the alleyway, her apron tied up all sorts of ways so that it doesn’t drag on the floor. She’s got tiny wolf ears too, reminiscent of the bartender.

“Moping,” Jackie complains. He doesn’t seem to be bothered, so Ran relaxes a little.

The tiny little girl puts her hands on her hips and looks contemplatively down at the General. “Did my mom get all weepy and you had to leave?”

Both of their faces morph into expressions of surprise.

The girl slides down into a criss-cross position across from Jackie. “I’m sorry about her. She hasn’t been the same since Laggius died.”

Ran crouches down slowly so he can be on the same level as the other two.

“I’m Snail, by the way. And don’t mind my mom. She just gets so stressed now that she has to run the restaurant all by herself… and then she yells at people.” The small girl dusts off her apron.

Ran looks to Jackie, but Jackie is focused on Snail as he asks, “Tell me about your brother.”

“He didn’t deserve to die,” Snail says immediately. She turns away for a second, blinking fast as if to compose herself. “He was very nice to me. He liked to make little weird wood carvings out of the trees on top of our bar. He was obsessed with them. The neighbors always said he was different though.”

Jackie leans in closer, like he’s drinking in every word. Ran feels like the conversation wheels have spun on without him and he missed his ticket.

So he tries to understand.

“Mom always made him do the repetitive work.” Snail sniffs quietly. “Chopping wood, cleaning tables. He liked that. He wasn’t real good with customers. He wasn’t good at all with doing jobs the way he ought to. But.”

Ran tilts his head. Was the wood chopping an important enough job that Laggius was earning his place? Or was it something given to him to do to keep him out of the way?

“I’d’ve loved my brother even if he never did a helpful thing in his whole life. Because he deserves it!” Snail proclaims. Then she leans backwards with an embarrassed expression. “Oh! Sorry! …I get told sometimes I talk too much.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Jackie hauls himself to his feet. “And I agree anyway. Right, Ran?”

“I don’t know,” Ran said, not knowing what they were talking about. Jackie frowns, but Snail looks nervously over her shoulder.

“Oh, I’ve been gone for a long while. Mom is probably mad.” She chews on her lip, gets to her feet, and bows quickly to both of them. “Sorry! Bye-bye!”

Her small feet tap on the pavement as she hurries to the door, and as she pulls it open, her ears prick up, and she turns back towards them.

“You better get home fast! There’s a storm tonight!”

The door shuts behind her.

Ran stares, standing in his spot, unable to stop thinking about what the little girl had said.

Jackie kicks a rock against the ground and turns towards the alley exit, bouncing on his feet with new energy. Ran follows out of habit, his mind lost in the sky.

“C’mon, man!” Jackie grabs Ran by one arm and pulls him. “There’s a storm coming!”

——

The tower is very cold, but it’s not the cold that Ran is used to from Terminus. There the stars stretch outward into the distance where the outer islands float just out of reach, and the cold is stinging and encompassing.

No, this is cold in a weird, sticky way, it’s cold in a way that smells dangerous, it’s cold in a way where the sky is dark and rolling like the waves of an ocean.

Ran had lived by the ocean for a week before and it was similar to this— windy, brisk, and rolling. He’s shivering already, but he’s following Jackie, who’s got one of his hands and is tugging him up these stairs as if the top of this tower is the safe zone in a line of fire.

When he makes it to the top, he drops Ran and rushes to the edge, spreading his arms and yelling into the air.

“Why are you doing that?” asks Ran, crossing his arms. There’s a sound overhead in the sky. It’s speaking quietly, mumbling to itself in the opposite tones of endermen speech.

The General turns to Ran, his eyes alight. “There’s a storm! It’s gonna be my only chance to enjoy it for like, months and months!”

He begins to whoop and holler at the sky. Ran flattens his spines against his head, shivering. It only seems dark to him.

Far below, he can see the treetops growing across the roofs of Subbin, and underneath that, a few of the spots of lights from the lamps. The small amount of light reveals there are tons of people outside setting up buckets and barrels at the spaces in between the tree leaves.

Ran leans over the edge to watch it, fascinated. He wonders briefly why they would need to collect it, and then says aloud, “Is there a water shortage in Subbin?”

Jackie scoffs from the other side of the tower roof. “It’s a desert city, Ran. Of course there is.”

He turns to come look at what Ran is looking at, smiling softly. “It’s not the worst water shortage ever— we have wells and all that, plus the king tries to negotiate water from Mempurr, but.”

Lights go off in Ran’s brain. “We’re going to war with them.”

“Exactly.” Jackie sighs and looks down at the city. “I didn’t grow up in the inner city area, but even I know about stuff like that. Subbin is built around the Phobium mines.”

“Phobium?” Ran asks. Luckily, he does his research. “That’s the fuel for most tech.”

“Yep,” Jackie points out at the Outskirts, “and it gets mined out here. There’s a shit ton of it, and the first Porkius discovered it way-back-when. Since Subbin is like the main supplier of it, we get a lot of good trade.”

Jackie drops his arm, his expression tired.

“… But?” Ran prompts, eager to know more.

“But of course, Mempurr is just. Better.” He sighs. “They might not have Phobium, but they control the river. They have nice houses, lots of doctors and scientists, schools! Most people who move there don’t come back.”

“Why don’t you just get those things here?” Ran asks dryly.

Jackie shakes his head, his strawberry-blonde locks growing frizzy from the humid air. “It’s not that easy. King Porkius pays for lots of programs to send students to Mempurr so they can become doctors or teachers, but then they just move there once they get a taste of it. Everyone left here is just… the miners, the business owners. We’re practically a stop town.”

“Oh.”

Ran looks out at the dark clouds and suddenly Jackie makes a shrill noise and begins to excitedly flap his arms up and down. “Watch, watch, watch!”

Ran tilts his head up and watches the clouds open.

For one second, there’s silence.

And then in the next second, there is a crashing, pattering sound as rain begins to hit the trees, and then the streets, and the buckets, and the citizens below, who begin to dance and cheer.

The second after that, there’s a hissing noise— Ran shouts in pain and backs away from the edge of the tower.

The water is burning him.

Jackie whirls on Ran, and he only looks at him for a second before he begins pulling off his sweatshirt and shoving it onto Ran’s head. The enderman growls in alarm as he’s dragged into the fabric, which is warm and smells like dirt and the brunch they’d had that morning in the castle.

Jackie yanks it down over his head and then Ran can see again.

The General is standing there, his hair dripping, his eyes wide with shock. He laughs. His laugh sounds like if a seagull could sing.

Ran glares at him.

“You— you look so funny,” Jackie starts wheezing, still laughing, and he pulls Ran towards the edge of the tower again. “Look at the rain!”

The storm is thundering in the distance, loud and demanding attention, but Ran can still hear the splashing of the water through all the trees and the shouts of the people below.

The canopy seems alive as the plants bend and shake with the weight of the water. The desert seems to be breathing around this moment, soaking into everything.

It does look a little bit like a painting.

“It’s nice,” Ran admits, and Jackie turns and makes a face at him.

“‘Nice’?! It’s the bes—“

Jackie’s shoes squeal on the stone of the roof as he abruptly slips off the edge.

Ran lunges forward and digs his claws into the General’s shirt, stopping his fall before he’d fully left the roof.

Ran’s hearts and stomach have painfully switched places. His head pounds, and his arms burn as he slowly pulls Jackie back onto the roof. The General sits for a moment, soaking wet, staring out into the night sky.

Ran realizes what just happened and almost screams aloud in frustration.

Jackie could’ve been dead . And the mission would’ve been over! And he’d finally have succeeded!

“Woah. I almost died.”

Yet Ran had to go and mess up such a perfect opportunity. For what reason? He doesn’t even know. He’s useless.

“Yeah. You almost did.”

Ran clenches his fists so hard he’s in danger of breaking the skin.

Why’s he doing this, anyway? What’s wrong with him lately? He’s putting aside his mission for some children. Some Overworld children that are not his concern.

Is he trying to make his stay on earth longer…? Ran has always favored the earth over Terminus...

No, of course not. Surely he can just get over it. He’s a member of the Order for End’s sake. He needs to get himself together.

He needs to refocus.

Ran abruptly gets to his feet and turns away, stalking towards the door.

“I’m going to my room.”

He can’t see the face Jackie’s making as he hears “… Uh, okay, have a good—“ before he slams the door.

——

“Watson!”

The man sitting at the desk yelps and drops the syringe he’s holding before he turns to look at Ran with an annoyed expression. “Could you maybe knock, kid?”

“Sorry,” Ran sheepishly replies, glancing carelessly over Watson’s desk, where he seems to be studying a small cave rodent. “Look, I need to talk.”

The man sighs and pulls off the rubber gloves he was using for his work, gesturing for Ran to sit down.

“So. What is it?”

Chapter Text

“Ran,” greets Four, and Ran feels the disapproval slither into his skin just from the sound.

“Four,” Ran responds, looking anywhere but its face.

The illusion of Terminus shimmers around him, lime green pillars and towers and endermen flirting about as they go about their business. It spirals around him like the inside of a snail shell.

Below them, the darker pillars hold the city up above the fountain… and below that, infinite nothingness.

Four follows Ran’s gaze to the stone below them. Sometimes, Ran can imagine he feels the phantom rumbles of a snoring creature underneath.

“Soon we won’t be trapped here anymore,” Four begins conversationally.

“I know this.”

Four turns away, its long, spindly limbs almost swaying in the air. It points into the inky blackness in the distance.

“The Outer Islands are out there. Hundreds— thousands— of endermen with no way to contact us.” The purple lights in Four’s eyes flit in Ran’s direction again, forcing him to look at his feet. Both of them know that he knows this, too. “Is your intent to derail the mission? Do you not want freedom from the Main Island?”

Of course he wants freedom from the Mainland. Doesn’t everyone? They want to explore the Outer Islands, to meet people, to pick fruit, to roll around in grass. Wait. Not that last one, of course.

But that’s why he’s doing this. That’s why he wants to do this— that’s why Jackie must die.

“No.” Ran keeps his eyes on the stone under his toes, his ears lying flat against his head. Hot shame burns in his chest. He’s so incredibly terrible at this mission. One death. One death is all that’s been asked of him.

He recalls his conversation with Watson.

“I assure you, I won’t be much longer.”

Four eases up, looking away again. It watches the distant shapes of fellow endermen.

“You’d better not be. Are you… having trouble avoiding suspicions—“

“No,” Ran interrupts. “No. That doesn’t matter to me anyway. The whole place will be gone soon, someone catching on isn’t going to make too much difference.”

“Good,” Four nods. “Best of luck.”

——

“Three. Two. One. Begin.”

The sun is beating down onto the sand, and Ran feels himself practically cooking as he slides out of the way of Jackie’s attack, kicking up dust in his wake.

Jackie isn’t one to be ignored though. He sharply spins to grab the back of Ran’s coat. Throws him down into the dust.

Ran is momentarily surprised— he’d been expecting this to be easier— and he jumps to his feet, narrowly avoiding the stab from Jackie’s dagger.

“Nice,” Jackie mutters, not giving Ran a moment to rest before rushing forward. His dagger clashes against Ran’s now unsheathed sword.

Ran hisses and turns to the side, slashing back and forth to try to get back on the offensive. Jackie blocks his attacks and begins jabbing towards Ran’s hips, forcing him to scurry back.

In a wide circle around them, the trainees sit and watch with bated breath. Sometimes there’s gasps or excited murmurs when one of their two teachers pulls an impressive dodge.

This is getting boring— and Ran is getting worn out. He’s not really practiced in holding his own in a fight for a long period of time. The General isn’t slowing down either.

“If you’re really so worried about… whatever it is you’re struggling with,” Watson had said last night after the storm, “just take every opportunity. Grab the bull by the horns, you know?” (Then he’d laughed to himself and said something like “fucking hell, kids” under his breath. Maybe he’s getting tired of Ran asking for advice.)

As Jackie comes at him again, Ran swerves out of the way of the attack and slices at the jugular. He’s determined to take the opportunity.

Jackie grabs Ran’s arm and twists, forcing him to hiss in alarm. What is happening right now? He has way more training then Jackie does, professionally speaking—

Ran lunges and sweeps wide at the General’s ankles. Jackie reflexively hops over the blade and lands on it, forcing Ran’s arm into the ground and pulling him along with it.

Before Ran can catch himself, the General hooks his leg into his side and slams him downwards— at the same time pivoting himself to land atop him. As soon as they’re on the ground, Jackie grabs each of Ran’s wrists and pins them. His sword lays useless, too far away for him to reach.

The students begin to clap politely.

Jackie is panting, and Ran can feel the breath on his face from the way the General is over him. Jackie grins smugly.

It’s way too hot outside for… whatever this is, Ran thinks, feeling his ears heat up. He shoves Jackie off of him, and the human rolls away easily with a laugh.

“Point General Jackie!” Jackie crows, extending two fists into the air as he lies on the sand.

Gyre walks over to lean over the prone enderman with a half-amused, half-worried expression.

“Are you alright, Mr. Ran?”

Ran covers his eyes with one arm so he doesn’t have to look at the disapproving ocean eyes of his protégé. “I’m fine. I’m getting up.”

He doesn’t even know why he’s blushing. Besides losing the fight. But he’s certainly not embarrassed about being beaten by a human— this must’ve been a fluke. It’s just too hot outside, that’s it.

For some reason, he can’t shake the image of Jackie’s cold and focused eyes.

He gets up.

——

When Jackie opens the door, Ran shoves the sweatshirt into the General’s arms faster than he can even say a greeting.

Jackie stumbles back a little, surprised by the force of the return, and looks down at the bundle as Ran walks in the room and makes himself comfy, which is to say that he stands in a corner and begins nervously wringing his hands.

“Returning your jacket,” Ran mutters, pretending very hard that he hadn’t hung the thing over a chair and been strangely distracted by its presence for the entire night.

“Oh, thanks,” Jackie replies, tossing the jacket into a corner before following Ran over to the back of the room. Today the General is wearing a blue shawl, which drapes in different shapes over him and sometimes reveals his shoulders if he lifts his arms up high enough.

Ran pulls the curtains aside, determined to get to business and ignore whatever happened yesterday. Grab the bull by the horns. He’s going to kill Jackie today.

He’s even gotten out his most lethal weapon: a small gun that fires an overheated shard, which is proven to kill instantly. It’s not something any amount of poison immunity can dodge.

Jackie detours away from the corkboard to grab two large plates off of his bed that Ran hadn’t noticed. He carries them over and hands one to Ran as he sits on the floor, crossing his legs. Ran looks at the General and then at the plate in his hand, which is piled with different kinds of food.

“I know earlier you said you weren’t hungry,” Jackie starts, using a small fork to stab some doughy thing and rub it into some chunky gray thing, “but I passed the brunch hall on my way up and it smelled so good.”

Ran sighs and politely nibbles on the dough thing. As he suspected, it tastes like dough.

“So what are the plans for today, then?”

Jackie breaks one of the eggs on his plate, letting the yellow stuff inside run over it and shoveling it into his mouth with the fork. “Well— I was kind of thinking that what Ms. Maximus said gave me an idea.”

He says this with his mouth full, but Ran ignores that graciously.

“And what’s that? Personally I was thinking we’d interview every parent, but then again if all parents grieve as Ms. Maximus does, it could be potentially taxing and time-consuming…”

Jackie makes a “mm! mm!” noise as if he wants to say something, covering his mouth with his hand and swallowing. “See, I thought about that!”

“Did you?” asks Ran, using his fork to stab one of the little chunks floating around in the gray stuff and raise it reluctantly to his mouth. But the taste is incredible, so he starts scooping up the rest of the weird gray liquid. “What is this called?”

“That’s gravy— and yeah! I think if we analyze the parents from an outsider perspective first, we can narrow down a pattern, and after we establish that, we can find the outliers and start there.” Jackie picks up some of the greasy, spiky looking food and starts chewing on it.

“I see.” Ran glances up toward the board, his eyes darting around the twelve subjects. One of the notes has a scrawled out theory that seems to have since been abandoned— Jackie had wondered if the missing children could have fallen into or gotten trapped in mines, since they seemed to disappear near that side of the city. Another note below that one reveals that Jackie had ruled this theory out on the basis that no children ever play around the mines to his knowledge, and those who did would not fall into holes very frequently.

“So basically,” Jackie says around a mouthful of the crunchy thing, “I think Ms. Maximus was right about asking a schoolteacher.”

“Where do we find a teacher?” Ran asks, considering whether it would be better to kill Jackie before or after.

“Well, tutors are real expensive and whatnot,” Jackie swallows. His fork makes a harsh squeaking noise as he scrapes up more food.

“Mhm.”

“So our best bet is a Sunday-School teacher.”

Ran picks around the rest of his food— which seems to be mainly non-meat products he’s not particularly interested in— and waves one hand to prompt Jackie to explain. Jackie’s too busy licking his plate in an absolutely ill-mannered way to see. When he’s done, he sets the dish down and keeps talking.

“There’s one old lady who’s pretty well known around here— Ms. Laramie. You saw her in town, yesterday.”

Ran recalls the white-haired woman speaking to the small crowd of children in the park. “Are we going to talk to her?”

“Yep! Are you going to eat that?”

——

Ran has no idea what he’s looking at right now.

“I have no idea what I’m looking at right now,” he says, staring at the contraption with bewilderment. He doesn’t think he could describe it if he tried. It’s smaller than a horse, but larger than a dog, made of rusted metal…

“This is Mike,” Jackie proclaims proudly, patting the leather part in the middle. “The motorcycle.”

“The what?”

Jackie hops onto the seat and grabs the long antennae-looking part of the machine, revving it. The loud noise startles several nearby birds.

“I built this myself,” Jackie says, rubbing one hand on the gleaming copper and gold parts.

“You… you built this?” Ran repeats, awed. He walks around the machine in a circle. Now that he’s looking at it, he can see an engine hooked up to the wheels— it’s for traveling. It would roll around the street— maybe like a combination between a horse and a train. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you!” Jackie preens, and then he pats the space behind him. “Come sit! We’re going to go to the park.”

“I can walk?”

Jackie sticks his tongue out and blows, making a plbbbt noise that startles and confuses Ran. “It’s more fun to take Mike the Motorcycle though. Are you going to deny me of my fun?”

Ran flicks one of his ears, watching the way Jackie grins and pulls his goggles over his eyes. He’s cheerful and unbothered. His smile causes a little line in one of his cheeks to pop out. Was that always there?

Maybe Ran owes some Jackie happiness before he… before he dies.

“We’ll take the motorcycle.” He steps closer to it, and then realizes there’s only one seat. “How do I…”

“Just get on behind me,” Jackie says, handing Ran a pair of goggles. “And hold on tight.”

Ran pulls the goggles over his eyes and steps over the back of Jackie’s seat (he’s tall enough that he doesn’t have to hop onto it).

“What exactly am I holding onto?” Ran asks, realizing that he can’t reach the handlebars from where he’s sitting. Jackie revs the engine before he can answer, and Ran is forced to grab onto the back of the General’s blue shawl as the machine screeches on the concrete and speeds out into the sun.

——

Ms. Laramie is on the same bench where they saw her last time when they arrived. There’s a larger group of children surrounding her now, although perhaps that’s because it’s earlier in the morning.

The old woman leans forward as she tells her story, making dramatic gestures with her hands. Her dress is white and frilly, patterned with lace. As Ran gets close enough to see, he realizes she has tear tracks on her face. She doesn’t look to be upset, though.

“And then the devil continued to give gifts to those She considered worthy, whilst the Guardian tormented those He liked on a whim. And the reason for this is that really They are two sides of the same coin— related in a way the heavens and the earth are not.”

“Ms. Laramie?” Jackie asks, walking the motorcycle up against a tree. The woman turns to look at the two standing to the side. Her eyes are pure white, and the tear tracks on her face look fresh.

“General Jackie,” she responds and smiles. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jackie shifts and takes a step towards Ran. “You’re a schoolteacher, right?”

“Yes.” Ms. Laramie’s eyes are huge, unblinking, and a little bit unnerving.

Jackie opens and closes his mouth. Ran coughs into his fist, drawing her gaze to himself.

“We wanted to ask you some questions about the children who are missing?”

Ms. Laramie’s eyes somehow widen. “Missing children, huh? That’s no good.”

She rises stiffly to her feet, and then turns to the class in front of her. “Why don’t we have playtime, children,” she offers, and there are shrieks and giggles of delight as the kids stumble and run off.

They remind Ran a little bit of his and Jackie’s military troop. Jackie had sent them off to spend the rest of the day with the regular Subbin militia, stating that ‘hanging around experienced soldiers will help them learn how to act’. Ran hopes things are going well.

Jackie folds his hands and squeezes them a little as he addresses the old lady again. “Do you know anything about the missing kids? All in the past year, all younger than eleven, and there’s about twelve of them.”

“It was a good idea to ask a teacher. You assume I interact with many children.”

Jackie’s eyes light up. “So do you?”

Ms. Laramie tilts her head, her white hair shifting. “I do. But none of my children have gone missing.”

Jackie groans, but quickly returns to his professional stance.

“Do you maybe talk with any parents who might know…?”

Ms. Laramie tracks one of the small kids with golden wings as they trip over another child and begin screeching in laughter. “Hmm… I do speak with many of the parents in this area.”

Jackie prompts her to go on with his hand.

“But I don’t know anyone who’s lost a child.”

Jackie and Ran both slump. Ran is becoming decidedly ticked off. He needs to get this over with so he can get Jackie alone so he can kill him so he can go home already.

Jackie straightens up again. “Well, that’s alright. Let’s go figure out who to ask next—?”

“Anything you could possibly give us, any sort of lead, about a missing person or persons?” Ran asks gruffly, straightening his back. He’s so much taller than Ms. Laramie and Jackie that this only makes things more awkward, but he feels better about his posture.

Ms. Laramie nods. Jackie and Ran both lean forward intensely.

“Where?”

The old woman points up at the tree canopy. Not at the whole thing itself, but at one specific spot of it, where more sun is coming in then usual. Where the leaves seem a little droopier.

“The canopy over that complex has been wilting,” Ms. Laramie says, and Jackie looks like a lightbulb has gone off in his head. He turns to grin at Ran.

“So the person who lives there hasn’t been watering it— we could go investigate! That’s a great place to start.”

The old woman nods, touching the small silver rectangle she wore on a chain around her neck with one finger. When she catches Ran looking at it, she smiles.

“It’s iron. For warding off dreamons.”

“Oh.” Ran doesn’t know what else to say.

Luckily, Jackie grabs the sleeve of his coat and starts pulling him towards the building. Apparently they’re going to go right now.

Ran prepares to get his gun out.

“Watch out for monsters!” Ms. Laramie calls after them. “And the dreamons! They’re a lot smaller than you’d think!”

Jackie waves a hand in response, not even bothering to turn around.

——

Distract him, distract him, distract him, Ran thinks to himself as they walk in the alleys, traveling between buildings towards the destination. Distract him and take the clear shot to his head.

Distract him the way he’s been distracting you, with his commanding voice and whirling plots and his devilish grin, catching Ran’s attention like a net plucking a butterfly out of the wind.

Ran’s attention isn’t a butterfly, though, it’s a laser focus, and he can’t be shaken by something as simple as… whatever it is Jackie does. He’s stronger than that, he’s better than that, and he can and will do this.

“Do you believe in those things?” Ran asks, his tail whooshing over the glass of a broken bottle as he steps over. He’s not even thinking about the terrain, really, gone on autopilot as he trains his eyes on the back of Jackie’s head.

The General skips, yards ahead of him, confidently leading the way to the apartment. “What, the dreamons?”

“Yes.”

Jackie shrugs. “Again, fairy tale. My dad knew a lot about that kind of stuff though, he loved myths.”

“Really?” Ran asks.

He draws his weapon slowly and silently out from his pocket. His grasp on it is so tight he might as well be holding a fish out of water.

“He used to tell me all kinds of things about magic and the end times and whatever. I still read the books.”

“So you do believe,” Ran prompts, raising the pistol up to eye level. Straight shot. Right through Jackie’s skull. He’ll drop to his knees and cease moving forever.

“Not really,” Jackie shakes his head. “There’s a difference between being interested and believing. But at least I’ll have the knowledge to— oh hello!”

Ran immediately lurches to the side, shoving his pistol down into his pockets and out of sight of the person on the street. The electric shock of his reaction wears off as he watches Jackie speak quickly to the passer-by (one of the fishermen who run the stand he bought from the other day), and once the stranger leaves, so does the feeling.

Unfortunately for Ran, there’s no chance to try again. As soon as he steps back into the General’s range he’s calling “We’re here!” And rushing into the doors of the building with the wilted trees on top.

This could not be going less to plan.

Ran forlornly follows Jackie up the dark stairs to the top of the apartment building, feeling like he’s climbing the gallows (although of course Ran wouldn’t actually know what that feels like).

His ears prick up as he hears Jackie rap on the topmost door. Eventually, he reaches the top of the staircase and stands beside the General, who turns to him cheerfully, opening his mouth to say something.

The door opens with a screech of metal. Jackie and Ran jump.

Standing behind the door is a young woman with dark red hair cut short and curling around her ears. She narrows her eyes at them. Ran can’t help but notice she seems disheveled, hair messy and eyes baggy.

“Who are you?”

Jackie straightens his posture. “I’m General Jackie, Uh, just wondering if we could take a look around in here.”

The girl blanches and her eyes dart from Ran to Jackie and back again. Eventually she steps away from the door, opening it more. “Uh, come in.”

The two of them step into the room and awkwardly shuffle into the kitchen. Ran has to hunch to keep his head from hitting the ceiling.

The lady closes the door behind them, and then turns to face the two strangers in her home. Her nose is scrunched up, and the small yellow wings on her back press against the wall slightly.

“So… what brings you to my home? Not my rent, surely? It’s not due for a while, and I know I’ve been distracted lately but... General Jackie, and, um…” Her dark eyes travel up to Ran’s face. He’s quite a lot taller than her. Ran avoids her gaze and feels his spines prick nervously.

“This is Ran Aetherman— my partner,” Jackie interjects for him, and Ran’s ears flutter a little. “We’re here because— well, actually this will sound odd. To be honest, was kind of hoping this place would be abandoned so we could investigate, but uh.”

“We’re looking for some missing children,” Ran explains, studying the fraying wallpaper behind the woman. This kitchen is too crowded even for Jackie. Dishes are stacked up on the counters, paperwork lies strewn across the table in the center of the room. In the back against the wall, a piano seems to be collecting a thin layer of dust.

The avian girl’s eyes widen. “Missing children? What do you know?”

Jackie shrugs. “Well, it’s, like, classified info, you know… but… not too much. Because we don’t really have an official funding or anything.”

She is silent. The room is stuffed with anticipation as Jackie and Ran watch the owner of the apartment struggle with some sort of inner decision. It feels like vines creeping along Ran’s back.

Finally she straightens, her brows furrowing in determination.

“I’m Scirocco. I think I can help you.”

“How’s that? Er, Scirocco?” Ram asks, letting her pass into the kitchen.

Scirocco passes him and plucks a photo off of the refrigerator.

“Call me Scoots, everyone does. And— look at this.” She hands the small Polaroid off to Jackie, who squints at it. His eyes light in recognition.

“This is Clementine, the most recently missing child.”

Scoots nods. “I’ve been looking for her since she disappeared.”

——

“Alright.” Ran says, tail flicking to the side. “So how many Subbin residents just keep conspiracy boards in their bedrooms?”

Scirocco shrugs helplessly. “I thought it was just me!”

Scirocco Loo, or Scoots, has been renting out the topmost apartment and paying for it with the gardening job she takes care of on the roof. Unfortunately, two months ago her younger sister went missing. And since then she’s been too busy staying up long hours of the night, piecing together clues, and interrogating people to take care of her own work. She’s in danger of losing the apartment now, but unwilling to back down from the case until her Clem is safe.

Ran holds the photo in his hand. Whereas Scirocco’s hair is a red that appears rusty and brown, her younger sister Clem’s hair is strawberry blonde— and her eyes are full of light. In the photo, Scirocco’s chin is resting on her sister’s head as they both laugh. Ran thinks it looks… sweet.

Jackie is examining the wall with unrestrained glee. “This is incredible! And so well organized!” He pulls down a page full of facts of one of the kid’s parents, carrying it to the table with him. “How long have you been working on this?”

Scirocco watches him carefully as he begins to sift through her notes. “Two months.”

Jackie whistles. Ran can’t help but be impressed as well. Had she been doing this all on her own? Just to save someone she cares about? Ran can’t imagine doing all of that with no help.

“Look at this, Ran,” Jackie begins, grabbing one of Ran’s sleeves and pulling him over. “Ruby’s parents live out by the mines, near where she disappeared.”

“I’ve been looking for political connections,” Scirocco explains. “I haven’t found many— they all seem to be from low-class families. My thought was maybe that whoever was taking them was trying to brew unrest in Subbin—“

“Like President Katherine?” Jackie asks, his nose scrunching in disbelief.

“Well, not the president directly,” Scirocco amends, “more like— someone with a motivation like that. I think Katherine wouldn’t get her hands dirty like that and risk the wrath of her party.”

“Ah yes. Party systems,” Jackie mutters to himself, producing a notepad and pencil and beginning to take notes.

“But then I realized if they were, they were doing a shit job of it. Hardly anyone even knows this is happening, seeing as it happened out in Outskirts.”

Ran twitches, feeling slightly useless.

Then he mentally smacks himself. What does he care about these kids anyway? When Subbin is gone they surely won’t matter.

Maia Maximus’s worn face flashes in Ran’s mind.

“Maybe it’s not an outsider,” Ran suggests. “Maybe it’s an… insider.”

“You mean like the king,” Jackie mutters. “I could see what you’re saying. He’s not exactly busting his ass to get anything fixed.”

Jackie adds ‘King Porkius’ under where it says ‘Mempurr’ on his list of suspects.

Scirocco has seemingly come to life, pulling tons more sheets of information— some of it handwritten— from her closet and strewing it over the table. “I’ve been doing as much research as I can ever since Clem disappeared,” she says as she sorts through some of the paper.

“It’s helpful that you’ve talked to so many of their parents already.” Ran sits in the chair beside Jackie, thankful to get away from the low ceiling.

“Yeah,” Jackie laughs nervously. “Parents do not really like me.”

Scoots shrugs. “No problem. I mean, they’re mostly sweet little miners, so.”

Jackie raises an eyebrow, and then he begins to check each paper.

“…They’re all miners. Every one.”

“Yeah? They’re from Outskirts,” Scoots pokes at an overgrown plant on her counter. “That’s where the disappearances happen. So, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“That’s not true.” Jackie raises his head, a divot between his eyebrows as they furrow. “There’s plenty of jobs in the Outskirts. There’s farmers and herders and all sorts of artisans.”

Scoots blinks a few times in surprise. “Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jackie mutters, but he begins to flip through the files at a more rapid pace. “That’s— really odd though. What type of miners were they… phobists.”

Jackie holds up the paper in Ran’s view, his eyes wide and serious. “Every single one of these kids has at least one parent who’s a phobist.”

The gears in Ran’s brain go click-click-click as he takes the info apart and puts it back together. It’s a puzzle, a puzzle he can put together himself, like on those long nights he spent building himself a bionic arm.

“The study of phobium,” Ran says. “Whoever’s doing this is doing it to get access to information about phobium.”

“But who would want—“ Scoots starts, as Jackie whips out his pad and begins violently scribbling notes.

“Mempurr. They need to have access to phobium to fuel their tech, and if we go to war they won’t get it anymore. King Porkius— if he can figure out how to produce more phobium, the sales will go up, and we won’t have to go to war in the first place.”

Ran borrows a pen from Scirocco’s table to add on.

“Jubilee,” he writes. “She’s the head of profit in the King’s advisors. She’d need a way to get profits up, if not Porkius himself.”

Jackie grins, his eyes dazzling— Ran fights the urge to look away. “I like the way you think! It could also be Elm, head of scientific research.”

“Or someone else entirely,” Scirocco offers. “Who’s in it for the monetary gain.”

Jackie nods and jots her words down. “All we’d need is a way to get a lot of these people together to interrogate them for clues. It’s too bad Porkius wouldn’t give us his blessing.”

Don’t say it, Ran, you need to focus on the missi—

“Watson could help,” Ran blurts despite himself. Shoot.

“Wait, seriously?” Jackie asks, looking up.

Stupid, stupid, he’s going to be dead before the end of today.

Ran nods. “He told me he’s always in my corner should I need something— I bet he could get us audiences with people on the King’s advisory.”

Jackie beams, jumping out of his seat.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ran, you’re a genius—“ he gives Ran a quick side hug with one arm before he prances around the table towards Scoots. “We’re gonna do it! I think we’re really gonna get somewhere!”

Scirocco smiles, her eyes growing shiny. “Oh my god, that’s so great. Please let me know when you have anything.”

“We will! We will!”

Ran, meanwhile, is short-circuiting a little bit, the side where Jackie had just hugged him feeling freezing cold. There’s a clenching in his ribs— the same sort of feeling as his failed teleportation attempts.

“Ran! Let’s go!” Jackie turns to look at him, his face one of unrestrained glee. Some things are unfortunately ironic— such as the irony of Jackie smiling so wide just before his own death.

“…I’m coming,” Ran responds weakly.

And maybe that’s ironic, as well, a soon-to-be-murderer leaving a house with his tail between his legs, or an executioner feeling bad before an execution. Or maybe anyone from the Overworld would just call that ‘human nature’.

But Ran isn’t from the Overworld. So he doesn’t.

——

As most people probably know, if you are psyching yourself up to do something that you really do not want to do, you will start to feel a pit in your stomach. Not a pit like a hole, nor a pit like in the center of a peach (although both of these things, if felt in the stomach, should probably be checked out as soon as a doctor is available). But rather a pit of muscles turning into pure anxious pain.

Ran, being unlike most people, does not know this. For one thing, he has never felt such strong anxiety over something he had to do before, and for another, he has never eaten a peach.

All he knows is that his chest is in extreme discomfort, and when he draws his gun out, his hands are shaking.

“Well, she was lovely,” says Jackie as he walks the route back from the apartment to the park. Above his head, the buildings rise up several floors, and atop of those, trees grow up until their branches tangle, bathing the alleyway in shade. Jackie walks into the dark— just as he is in the dark about his partner’s current struggle.

Jackie’s comment does nothing to soothe Ran’s sudden pains, and he’s not even sure of the reasoning behind that.

Shoot him. He’s there. Shoot him.

Ran lifts the weapon up to his eye. He gets Jackie’s head in his crosshairs. The little target is perfectly on mark, as would be expected, and Ran’s finger is against the trigger.

It should be so easy to pull.

Ran closes his eyes for a moment. Sometimes, when it’s hard to follow through on decisions, it helps to visualize their outcomes.

Unfortunately, visualizing Jackie dead does not seem to help Ran. In fact, the pit in his stomach grows worse, and his hands shake more, and before he knows it, he’s forcing the picture violently from his own brain.

Jackie? Dead? He can’t be.

He just can’t be.

Ran’s ears prick up, realizing that the man in front of him is slowing his footsteps, and quickly he hides the gun in his coat.

“…You doing alright, bud?” Jackie asks slowly.

At this moment, Ran realizes he’s on his knees in the middle of the street. He scrambles to his feet quickly, clearing his throat.

“Y— yes, I am. I am good. Could you ride back alone? I need to— I would like to walk back to the castle today.”

Jackie’s expression is dappled with concern that almost matches the shadowy pattern of the leaves above him. “… If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Please get out of here, before you’re dead, part of Ran thinks, and another part of him starts shrieking that he’s giving up his chance.

What happened to ‘grab the bull by the horns’?

What happened to ‘it all ends today’?

Ran’s brain is making the sort of crashing and cacophonous sound hurricanes make. It’s incredible that through all of it, he still manages to watch Jackie until he’s completely out of sight.

Ran crumples to the floor in a heap, his tail wrapping around and his spines raising in alarm and fear.

What’s happening? He thinks. The gravel under his legs press into his skin, painful and cold.

Normally, when panicking, people will employ the use of blankets, or their favorite comfort items, or a breathing exercise.

Ran begins hissing to himself. Eventually, he’s snarling in anger.

He’s never been unable to complete a mission before. He’s never been so frustrated before.

Right in front of him! Easy pickings! Practically for the taking!

And yet—

Ran smashes his metal fist into the gravel. The scattering of the pebbles gives him little solace.

Why on Earth can he not kill Jackie? Ran asks himself for about the hundredth time since he’d been assigned this mission.

Because I don’t want to see him dead, his brain offers.

Ran pauses. The rumbling in his chest cuts out, his ears perking up in confusion.

He takes that thought. Replays it. Pokes it. Then replays it again.

Surely— that can’t be right.

Right?

Oh.

Oh, no.

Ran grabs his own head, pressing his hands into his temples.

This cannot be happening.

He’s — he’s attached. He’s too attached, to the overworld, to humans.

He’s now starting to value their lives above the mission, above the freedom of his own people.

How could this happen to him? He is good at carrying out instructions. He needs to be good at it. He has to be the perfect member of the Order, useful and effective and efficient and—

No. No no no.

It hasn’t happened. It won’t happen.

Ran grits his teeth, digging his fingers into the rocks.

He can fix this. He can ignore whatever crap is going on in his own traitorous brain.

Jackie’s smile? What smile? Ran will block it out, he’ll block out everything— every person in Subbin, every missing child, every grieving mother—

It’ll be gone. It’s done.

He’s ruthless from here on out.

He cannot afford to be “distracted” any longer (and of course, this must be what was sabotaging his earlier attempts as well).

There are no more weaknesses. Only casualties, only cannon fodder.

He can do this.

Ran lets himself stay seated for another minute, breathing in and out. Calming himself until his spines lay flat on his back.

Eventually, the enderman is composed.

He rises to his feet.

“Okay,” he exhales. “Now. To complete a mission.”

Chapter Text

“You’re going to owe me for this one, kid,” Watson chuckles as they browse the market, the sunshine flitting through his hair.

Ran’s ears flick nervously. “Sorry. I just didn’t have anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Watson waves him off, and then leads him between two fruit stands into a shop.

Inside, the hustle and bustle from the Saturday market is muffled, and they can only hear the slight rustling of someone behind a curtain in the back.

Watson taps on the side of the wall with his knuckles as if knocking on a door. Instantly, the rustling starts as a cow person pokes their head out.

“Yes? What do you want?”

Watson laughs. “What do you mean, what do we want? We’re customers!”

The cow’s eyes narrow as they squint. “Oh. Okay, come in.”

As they walk through the door, Ran glances around the shop. It’s dark in here, with prints and tapestries on the walls. The russet-colored cow person comes out from behind the curtain to tend to them, straightening the knitted sweater they’re wearing.

Watson does most of the talking with the shopkeeper to arrange things while Ran spaces out. He’s still a little bit nervewracked over the dream he’d had last night with Three.

“We’re disappointed,”the enderman had said immediately, without tiptoeing around it. “Downright miffed, even.”

“I’m working on it,” Ran had promised. “It’ll be done before today.”

“Oh, good,” Three had responded, its eyes narrowing. “Because we’ll check ahead. If that general is not dead and gone by tomorrow, there will be serious consequences. You’re detrimental to the Order at this point.”

Ran’s heart faltered in fear. He’s not detrimental to the Order, he’s not. He can’t be. He’s the most useful member he can be, he contributes excellently, he earns his place well. He’s never messed up before and he is not going to start now.

Three never pulls any punches, though, often opting to go straight to the heart.

“Remember we can see if you mess up,” Three had repeated lowly. Ran’s ears lay flat against his head.

The Council knows what is going to happen and what needs to happen. They’d known that he needed to kill Jackie for the mission to succeed— they would also be able to see if, for some reason, in the future, Jackie was still alive.

The General’s life has to end tonight.

Which was why Ran isn’t going to allow anything to stop him.

He’s even set a time for himself— to help him focus. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants all day, as long as, at the time he’s supposed to, he kills Jackie.

He thinks that’ll be a lot more productive then just attempting to kill him all day long.

(And maybe Ran is trying to give himself one last happy day, but he’s buried that thought so far into his subconscious it can’t even occur to him anymore.)

“Ran,” says Watson’s voice for the third time, and Ran tunes back into reality. “Earth to Ran? Tamsin is trying to measure you.”

Ran snaps into focus and looks down at the grumpy expression of the cow person holding a measuring tape.

“Sorry,” Ran replies, and then stretches out each of his limbs uncomfortably as they measure.

Tasmin snorts. “You’re fuckin’ long.”

Watson begins to laugh. His laugh is like a low repetitive cackle, and very comforting. “He sure as shit is! This suit is gonna cost a stack and a half.”

Ran shakes his head quickly. “Oh no. That won’t be necessary. I don’t really like tight suit jackets, due to my, um.” He points at his bionic arm.

Tasmin slaps his hand away. “Then I’ll make you a vest.”

Watson nods. “That’s brilliant! And I’m sure the General will like it, as well.”

“Huh?” Ran dumbly says as his ears heat up. Watson starts laughing again.

Tasmin abruptly stands up and begins walking away.

“All done. No more. You can leave now.”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me negotiate a price,” Watson wheezes, and he follows them to the back of the shop.

Ran, sensing his presence is no longer needed, exits the stuffy room and steps out into the market again. He takes a deep breath.

It’s only taken a few days after the storm for the air to mostly return to its normal baked feel, but he can still taste that tiny bit of humidity in the wind. Stepping out from between the stalls, Ran just stands and listens to the sellers call out to the passer-by for a bit before one catches his eye.

Ran wanders up to the front of the lady’s stand, enraptured by the explosions of flower bouquets everywhere. They seem to come in infinite shapes and color combinations, creating a multitude of odd but complimentary colors. He’s almost transfixed by it.

“Are you looking to buy?” asks the woman at the counter, smiling cheekily. Her blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail, and her work apron is tied tight.

Ran looks down at her and then away again, not meeting her eyes. “Uh. No. I don’t really have the ability.”

He hadn’t brought much money with him, not expecting his stay in Subbin to last even a week. Of course, he’s been here for weeks on end at this point.

The flower seller’s eyes narrow and she regards him carefully.

“You look like you have an appreciation for flowers,” she begins, sitting up. “Why don’t I let you have a single one. On the house.”

“Er,” Ran says, not really knowing how to respond. His voice is probably much too flat, as people sometimes complain. His eyes catch on a flower that reminds him of something nice, though he can’t put a finger on it. “Those ones, I guess.”

The shopkeeper grins. “Desert bluebells! Here, take one.” She plucks a single flower off and hands it to Ran, who closes his hands around its petals as carefully as possible, wary of crushing it.

“Thank you,” Ran politely tries. The flower seller shrugs.

“Business. Now, go give those to whoever you were thinking of to make your face look like that!”

Ran stares at her for a moment, utterly confused, before he turns around and swiftly leaves.

He keeps the flower clutched close to his chest.

——

A sad truth of this world is that if you’re putting something off, it is ten times more likely to creep up on you as fast as possible.

For instance if you had a doctor’s appointment you were worried about, or maybe some forms you needed to fill out that were particularly monotonous and difficult, the due date might approach you at a hurtling speed. Meanwhile, a day you are looking forward to might arrive at a snails’ pace, and then leave as soon as it begins.

Meaning that, unfortunately for Ran, no matter how long he tries to put off seeing or speaking to Jackie today, he eventually runs into him in the palace hall on the way down to the courtyard.

Jackie catches Ran’s sleeve with one hand and smiles, but his smile is— off somehow, perhaps concerned.

“Hey man, Watson told me about the thing. The Party thing. Scientist party. Science party? Yeah, l uh. Heard.”

Ran’s ear twitches and he leans slightly backward.

He doesn’t know what to do anymore, when it comes to Jackie. It’s all he can do to take note of the way the lamplight traces the General’s cheeks, and desperately remind himself that after tonight, it never will again.

The Council has seen Jackie dead and gone. What the Council sees happens, unless they see him failing, in which case he’s going to be kicked from the Order for being absolutely useless, terrible, worthless—

Jackie blinks and his smile slides away. “Ran?”

Ran turns away and softly fiddles with his right earring. He feels caught; between ignoring Jackie completely, or savoring every last moment with him. “I’ve been spacey today.”

“I can see that.” The hand on his sleeve slides down to grab more firmly onto his elbow. “Do you want to talk?”

“Nerves,” Ran blurts, and looks away. He was looking at Jackie’s eyes, for a second there, that’s weird. “I’m just nervous for tonight.”

Jackie laughs. “Honestly, I’m sure interrogating a bunch of high ranking scientists under the guise of a party would make anyone nervous. Don’t feel too bad!”

Ran sneaks a glance at Jackie again. He needs to change the subject away from himself.

“You dressed up.”

Jackie takes a step back and twirls around, preening.

“I did! This isn’t all of it, there’s a cool, like, jacket too, but it’s in my room… What do you think?”

It’s just a white button-up and dress pants, but Ran seriously considers him for a moment anyway.

“It’s nice,” he says finally, clearing his throat. Jackie only giggles.

“Yeah, yeah… what are you wearing?”

Ran’s scattered mind takes a few seconds to remember.

“I’m— Watson ordered a tailored waistcoat.”

“Ooo,” Jackie responds. Ran wonders if Jackie would find the suit nice. Ran also finds himself wondering if Jackie spends half as much time looking at him as he looks at Jackie. Realistically he knows that’s not the case, but he somewhat entertains the idea for a brief moment before he crushes it all down, the same way one might crush down an overflowing recycling bin.

He scatters those thoughts with a twitch of his tail. “I’ll be on my way now—“

“Why? What’s the rush?” Jackie frowns. He takes both of Ran’s hands in his own and pulls them closer. Ran has absolutely no clue what to do about that, so he just stands there like an idiot.

Don’t you understand, he thinks, the Council says you’ll be dead by morning. And it’ll be me. My doing.

“I’m… busy,” he says, gently pulling his hands away. Jackie’s face falls, but stops when Ran fishes something out of his pocket.

“This is for you, though.”

He presents Jackie with the desert bluebell.

The General looks at the flower, and then up at Ran, and then back at the flower again. His face seems to grow rosier in the low light of the hallway.

“Thanks, man,” he mumbles, lifting the flower out of Ran’s claws and holding it to his chest. “It’s lovely.”

The torches on the wall flicker.

The silence seems to stretch for ages, and it’s not even a bad silence— it’s one Ran would like to bask in forever.

If he had the ability to freeze time, he thinks it would be on this moment. With Jackie illuminated in a warm glow and regarding the tiny flower like some precious treasure.

“Why’d you get me this?” He asks, and his voice sounds smaller than Ran has ever heard it.

Ran looks down at the flower, trying to remember what had crossed his mind when he’d plucked it from the shopkeeper this morning.

I’m anxious about having to go to a party with you tonight like nothing is wrong.

I’m mournful that you’ll be dead soon because of me.

I’m absolutely enchanted by you and everything you stand for— the Overworld and the people and things in it.

I’m sorry.

“It matches your eyes,” Ran says instead.

Then he passes Jackie and continues out of the hallway.

——

“It’s just a party, Ran,” he hisses to himself in the mirror.

The vest is nice, he supposes… black, with undertones and accents of maroon. Golden shines on the buttons, too. Tasmin did a wonderful job.

Ran likes clothes, if he’s honest. They make him look much more unique, and yet fit into the Overworld so much better.

Habitually, he tugs on his triangle earring.

What is the plan tonight?

… Kill Jackie, of course, that’s always been the plan.

Ran takes a deep breath and grabs the edges of the sink, releasing the breath a second later.

He leans forward to rest his forehead against the cool glass.

He just has to get through the party, and then at the end, as soon as he has an opportunity… that’s when it happens.

No matter how much it hurts, he’s just got to ignore it. He has to ignore Jackie, all distractions be damned.

Ran squeezes the counter under his hands and reminds himself why he’s doing this.

The Order needs him. For the survival of his whole race! They need him, and he’s the one for the job, and he’s so good at it and useful. He’s getting no second chances at this— Jackie is dead tonight. Really and truly.

(He pointedly shoves down the wriggling feelings of horror or guilt. He’s got no room for them.)

Besides, the Council says it’s going to happen. So it will.

Knocking sounds on the door, startling Ran three feet into the air.

He exits his bathroom and strides across his quarters before opening the door to see Watson dressed quite royally in peacock blue.

“You look interesting,” Ran says, and he means it, so he doesn’t know why Watson starts chuckling.

“If you hate my outfit so much, you can say so!”

“Oh, no— I—“

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t give a shit. Let’s head downstairs.”

Watson and Ran make the long trek down the stairs to the room where the party is being held together. Despite his nerves, Ran feels just a little bit better with the man beside him.

As they finally reach the third floor and turn towards the room for the event, Ran begins fiddling with his bow tie. “Thanks for putting this together,” he mumbles to Watson, trying to convey his gratitude in multiple ways. “It means a lot.”

“Eh, no biggie,” Watson waves him off with a grin. “Just let me know what you two find out, huh?”

Ran nods. The reminder that Jackie is here curls cruel claws into his organs, like a huge eagle is attempting to snatch up his heart for its evening snack.

Ran doesn’t know if eagles actually eat hearts, but something is certainly eating his.

Watson tilts his head a little at Ran, and looks him over for a moment. Then he places one hand on the enderman’s much higher shoulder.

“If you need to talk to me, I’m here, Ran,” he murmurs under the music that begins to overwhelm as they cross the threshold.

“Thanks,” Ran sighs, and then steps into the party.

The lighting is low, and mostly purple, and the chattering of voices fills the air intermixing with the music. Ran allows himself to sway side to side to the tune. There’s something about Overworld music that just sucks him in. It’s practically enchanting, he thinks.

They have music in Terminus, but it’s very different— mostly woodwind instruments that have been built out of trees. Pretty and haunting, but not quite as — warm-sounding, or as inspiring of dance as this music is.

He’s fully entranced into the song, nearly hypnotized, when someone taps him on the shoulder and he leaps.

“Haha, found you!”

Ran turns around, and there’s Jackie.

For a moment, everything in Ran’s brain swells to a stop.

He’s wearing the same button up and pants, but complete with an intricate red jacket, embroidered and dazzled with golden tassels. It’s fancy, but not fancy enough that it doesn’t feel like Jackie.

“Woah,” says Ran, and Jackie laughs.

“Yep! I’m good at finding, I guess. Or at least, finding hot guys,” he grins, his eyes flitting over Ran’s waistcoat. “Want to start interrogations now?”

Ran doesn’t have any reason to refuse, but… for some reason, he doesn’t feel like doing any speaking to anyone at the moment.

So he shrugs.

Jackie takes serious note of this, tapping a hand to his chin. “Okay. I guess that means it’s up to me. You can stand behind me, though, and look like the threatening muscle.”

Ran gratefully trails after him as the General makes his way toward a group of giggling women.

“Hey girls!” Jackie begins, and the members begin to trail off their conversations as they catch sight of him.

“Oh, my god, you’re the General!” says one of them with an ornate headdress wrapped around her tall shoulders. She’s about the same height as Ran.

“I am!” Jackie smiles. “And this guy back here— don’t mind him, he’s just my partner Ran—“

One of the girls waves to Ran, so he hesitantly waves back.

“I was wondering if any of you know who at this party has an expertise in phobium? Maybe someone who’s a phobist themself?”

The group exchange glances and then sort of lean in like they’re mumbling to each other, trying to remember. Ran realized that most of them have drinks in their hands, and are swaying to the music in the background just like him.

“Uh, now don’t take my word for this,” starts a small deer girl, adjusting her glasses. Jackie leans in. “But like, I think there’s a whole wing of phobists down near Outskirts last I checked?”

Many of the girls begin nodding their heads and agreeing with the deer.

“So true! That’s true!”

Jackie waves his hands to get their attention again. It takes a second, but they quiet down. Ran finds himself wholly impressed by Jackie’s people managing skills… and very happy he didn’t have to do any of it.

“Do you know who heads that department?”

“Errr,” the deer girl says, and once they realize she doesn’t have the answer, the other ladies start talking over her all in a rush. They all seem rather unsure, until the tall one in the headdress speaks again.

“I think that’s Diana,” she says, and there’s a pause. The girls begin quietly agreeing among themselves about this.

Ran finally realizes that the majority of them are very drunk.

“No, yeah, Diana Illusion, like for sure,” says the tall one again, her golden freckles popping out on the purple light.

“Thank you,” Jackie responds, smiling. “That’s very helpful!”

The group begins giggling, some of them falling into hysterics even as Ran and Jackie leave them to their dancing.

Jackie slips his arm through Ran’s, walking him across the room like that. Ran’s head heats up as he weighs the pros and cons of just stabbing Jackie in the middle of the dance floor.

Unfortunately before he comes to a conclusion, Jackie drops his arm when they reach another area of the dance floor.

“Are you the head of the phobist division from the Outskirts?” Jackie yells at one lady over the din. Her dancing abruptly stops as she turns toward Jackie in surprise.

“Yes!” she shouts back. “There’s not much work right now, though— a lot of my employees are on family leave!”

Jackie tries to strategically inch through the dancing crowd to get closer. Ran follows a lot more carelessly, bumping into several befuddled partygoers.

The woman Jackie is speaking to turns towards them, her warm brown skin lit up purple and her fluffy hair glistening slightly with sweat.

“Do you have any info about someone possibly snooping around for phobium information recently? Like, trying to pry it up illegally?”

The lady taps her chin. She looks up towards the ceiling, her earrings dangling. “Not that I can think of! There was a guy asking for some stuff, like a couple months ago…”

Jackie and Ran lean in anticipation.

“… but he was on behalf of someone else, and I got the orders from some higher-ups, so.” She shrugs, continuing to bounce to the beat of the music.

Jackie shoots Ran a frustrated frown, then he turns back to the dancing woman with a positive expression.

“Thanks for talking to us! See you later!”

Jackie begins sliding out of the crowd, and Ran follows after him, as always.

Jackie slows down as they reach the edges, and he leans backwards until he’s close to Ran’s ear. “I guess we’ll have to ask people higher up the chain,” he mumbles to Ran, whose ear twitches from the whispering. “Any ideas?”

Ran isn’t exactly into it at the moment. He’s more out of it. His brain feels kind of like one of those products so fragile that they get wrapped up in wool and fleece in their boxes.

“Maybe… Maybe Elm? Or Jubilee,” Ran tries. His brain isn’t feeling all too helpful right now. Especially with Jackie so close in proximity.

Miraculously, and terribly, Jackie backs off him. “Makes sense. Wanna tag-team ‘em?”

Ran just looks down at Jackie as they continue to walk. He doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really sure he thinks about anything. His head is like a rolling tumbleweed.

Jackie grins. “Or maybe a little bit of the ol’ good-cop bad-cop. You can be bad cop, I think. Just stand there and look handsome and menacing. It’ll work.”

Ran just nods slowly. He’s not thinking about the words that are coming out of Jackie’s mouth, not really.

He’s thinking about the long poisoned dagger nestled safely in the sleeve of his ruffled cotton button up.

He’s feeling his chest grow tight and his throat clench as he imagines stabbing it into Jackie’s chest and twisting.

I can’t do that, Ran thinks, anguished. He watches Jackie slink ahead of him in the crowd, seeking out a head scientist.

You have to, the part of his brain that knows the truth responds. The Council demands it be done.

“Hello!” Jackie shouts, accosting some poor dancer whose sunglasses almost fly off at the shock. “Aren’t you Elm? Elm Flowers, head of scientific research?”

The dancer turns around, brushing his hot pink hair out of his face so he can see Jackie better. The hot pink glasses remind Ran a little bit of the brightly-colored man who had pretended to man the cameras during the Pit challenges.

(That “funny camera guy” was clearly an enemy agent sent by another realm to disrupt him. Luckily, Ran scared him off with his masterful intimidation techniques.)

Ran sidles up next to the General and puffs out his chest, attempting to appear ‘menacing’.

“…Uh, yeah,” Elm finally responds, adjusting the flowers on his outfit during the pause. “What’s up?”

“Seen anything suspicious lately when it comes to information on phobium? Anyone trying to dig through your classified files?”

Elm shrugs, putting one hand on a hip. “I mean, people go through my info all the time. I’m head of scientific research. Most of my requests come from people at the very top, though. I don’t know what their reasoning is, if any. But… as for slightly weird, there’s like, this newer empty science building… you know down where Brackett Inn used to be?”

Jackie stills. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, near there I guess. It’s not the most useful info, though, I suppose that’s months old at this point.”

Jackie blows a dissatisfied air puff, making his bangs fluff upwards. “Well, thanks anyways,” he calls before dragging Ran away.

Ran allows himself to be pulled about halfway across the room before he finally notices they’re heading to the drinks bar. He perks up a little in surprise, gently pulling his arm out of Jackie’s hold.

Jackie, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice this, too busy squinting up at the chalkboard above the bar with his hand on his chin.

“Are you thirsty? I am. I can’t have alcohol, though… maybe water…”

“I can’t have water,” Ran says through the haze of the lights and the noise and Jackie.

Jackie turns back to look at him for a moment, before getting the bartender’s attention and ordering a water and milk. The man appears incredibly confused, but he goes to get the drinks anyway.

Jackie clambers up onto one of the barstools, and Ran eventually pulls one out and sits as well.

“You’re really out of it today, huh?” Jackie asks with a knowing smile.

Ran feels like he’s curling at the edges, like old paper.

“I have things on my mind.”

“More important than all of this?” Jackie waves his fingers around, gesturing to the party and Ran assumes the mission in general.

His eyes sparkle with mirth.

A thousand times more important.

“It’s okay, I won’t pry. I mean, you don’t really pry at me! Most of the time.” Jackie briefly pauses his conversation to accept two glasses from the bartender, one of which he passes off to Ran.

Ran takes the drink in both hands, feeling the cool surface under his palms. He considers Jackie’s words as he stares at the milk.

He… hasn’t been prying? He would’ve thought he pried quite a lot; at least earlier on, while he was trying to get info out of Jackie about the army and Subbin’s state secrets.

“What don’t I know about you?” he asks, taking a sip of the milk. It feels weird on the inside of his mouth, going down his throat even stranger.

Jackie laughs to himself and brings his drink up to his mouth. “Oh, man, there is so much you don’t know about me.”

The stuffiness in Ran’s head clears away, replaced by his pure curiosity.

Jackie sends him a sly glance out of the corner of his eye. When he sees Ran’s huge eyes, he snorts in amusement. “Okay! I guess it’s story time.”

Ran crosses his legs and hunches on the stool to lean closer to Jackie, holding his glass of milk patiently in his lap.

Jackie sets his cup down on the counter with a clink.

“Well, it all started when I was born,” he begins mischievously, and Ran manages to laugh. Jackie’s face instantly brightens once he hears it (and Ran feels oddly flustered that he’d warmed up so fast).

He pushes everything else out of his mind and just focuses on the story.

“Then what?”

“Well,” Jackie continues, swirling his drink’s straw around, “when I was pretty young my dad was uh. Killed. Stabbed, actually.”

Ran’s heard this before, but he listens intently anyway. There’s something hovering just under the surface of Jackie’s lighthearted tone. Years and years of hurt, perhaps.

“So, I turned to a life of stabbing people to make money.” Jackie takes a drink from his glass again. “Um, mostly odd jobs, I guess. People who had grudges and shit like that. I usually just killed ‘em with a sword, I’ll be honest. A lotta poison too.”

He begins to tap his fingers on the drink, making small clinking noises.

Ran watches him with wide eyes.

“‘Course, I realized that maybe that someone would come after me in a revenge haze, so. I started poisoning myself on purpose to build up immunity,” Jackie shrugs. He keeps his tone carefully light. He’s trying so hard not to let any of the fear he’d felt show. “And for the ones I couldn’t, well. I learned a lot of fast remedies. Of course, there’s always gonna be one or two poisons out there that there’s just no countering, and then I’ll be done for.”

Oh, Ran thinks. So that’s how.

And yet this revelation doesn’t really feel surprising or important to him. It’s just another part of Jackie. Another piece to this endless puzzle in front of him, taking the form of a person.

Jackie sighs. “Eventually my face was pretty known and I just kind of gave up being stealthy, getting better at fighting instead. Everyone around Subbin hates me though.”

“I don’t hate you,” Ran replies. Then winces as he realizes that he just said that without really knowing why.

“Pfft,” Jackie huffs like it’s ridiculous. But he smiles softly, genuinely, before meeting Ran’s eyes. “Thanks. That’s sweet.”

Ran’s heart seizes and he has no idea what to do as he’s struck with the urge to get as close to Jackie as humanly possible.

This is the last time I’ll see him alive, Ran remembers, instead using his energy to commit Jackie’s smile and eyes to memory.

The few seconds they sit there in warm silence, with the flashing lights reflecting onto Jackie’s tassels, feels like it stretches for minutes.

“I’m gonna go talk to Jubilee,” Jackie interrupts Ran’s daydreaming, sliding off his stool. He points at a ram woman who seems to be hollering in an off-key tone to the song that’s playing. Someone near her ducks to avoid getting smashed over the head with the bottle she is swinging around.

Jackie pats Ran’s arm sympathetically, and all of Ran’s brainpower immediately zeroes in on this action. “You can wait here, okay?”

He nods dumbly. And stays put as he watches the General prance off to go interrogate a sheep.

Ran hears a low whistle from behind him, making his ears perk up, and he swivels around.

Watson stands beside him at the bar, sipping from some sort of fruit drink.

“You are fuckin’ struggling, aren’t you, kid?” Watson asks casually. Ran drops his face into the bar counter and loudly groans in response.

The surface is cold on his heated face, so that’s a bonus. Ran blows smoke out of his mouth impatiently, making Watson raise his eyebrows in surprise.

The smoke is from Ran’s chest cavity, which has been rapidly expanding and contracting due to his anxiety over the past day. While most endermen would be able to teleport from the nacre in their gut, Ran’s left to uselessly fill with smoke, only able to teleport once on a good day and never properly.

After all, he wouldn’t want to lose another limb.

But all of that is much too complicated an explanation to give to the scientist in front of him, so instead, Ran just lies there and mopes.

At least he feels slightly more comfortable with his neighbor nearby.

“You know what you need,” Watson suggests, stirring his drink a little bit and leaning against the counter slyly, “is to ask him to dance.”

Ran just barely lifts his head up enough to look at Watson’s calloused fingers. He makes a sound of confusion.

Watson shifts to face him more. “You know, that stereotypical, ‘May I have this dance?’ type shit. That always works.”

Ran raises his head up enough to prop it on his hands, eyeing his glass of milk thoughtfully.

“Is that very distracting?”

Watson chuckles like he finds that amusing. “Hell if I know! Hey, you tried any of the alcohol here? We should hang out before I have to leave.” The man checks his watch. “I gotta get out of here early to head way out for some work stuff.”

Ran frowns. “I can’t have alcohol.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way you’re younger than sixteen.”

“No, I—” Ran sits up properly this time, grabbing his glass to show Watson. “I can’t drink water, I’m allergic to it.”

Watson squints at him. “You’re allergic. To water.”

The enderman shrugs helplessly.

“But… milk is fine?”

“I don’t know how it works either.”

Watson looks into Ran’s cup, and then gazes up towards the chalkboard menu.

“We’ve gotta get you something to lighten you up. Think they can put alcohol in milk?”

Ran is probably the very last person who would know the answer to that question.

“We could always get you turkey. Do they serve food? I dunno. But you can get drunk off turkey. That’s a real thing.”

Ran’s eyes slide away from the bar and towards the dancing crowd. From here he can make out Jackie attempting to speak to the ram woman.

He can also make out the bubblegum girl leaning on Jackie’s other side as he talks. The General frowns at her as she slides her arms around his neck, and he pulls her off gently, taking a few steps in the other direction. She follows him, and his face scrunches up in discomfort.

“Watson, excuse me,” Ran says darkly. He rises from his stool very slowly, like the rolling of a thunderstorm.

Watson is still speaking as he leaves.

“I mean, surely y— aaand he’s gone.”

Ran sets off into the crowd at a brisk pace.

He doesn’t even notice the multiple people he shoulder-checks in his haste to get to the other side of the room, or the way people who catch sight of the tall creature striding towards them quickly shuffle out of his way.

All he sees is himself reaching Jackie and pointedly stepping in between the General and the bubblegum girl.

When Jackie spots Ran, his cloudy expression clears quickly and he smiles. Ran would think about how happy that makes him but he’s too busy glaring at the unwanted girl. She doesn’t take the hint. Her face is flushed fake pink from all the partying she’s been doing, and she sways lightly on her feet.

Ran decided to ignore her and instead turn to Jackie, who’s staring at him curiously just as Jubilee finishes speaking.

“And that’s the thing, those orders were interesting, but the guy asking for them said he was on behalf of the king! So I couldn’t just say no!”

Ran blocks that out, as well, until there’s only Jackie left, standing before him in a fancy outfit with a mildly puzzled expression.

“What’s up, my man?” The General asks, a smile making its way through the awkward face.

“May I have this dance?” Ran asks, standing as stiffly as a board.

He… wasn’t sure what else to say.

Jackie’s eyebrows shoot straight up, and his cheeks turn lightly pink, although it’s hard to tell in the crazy lighting.

Behind himself, Ran can hear the bubblegum girl gasp in surprise, and Jubilee chuckle to herself.

Jackie’s eyes flit around for a second, unsure of himself, before he reaches forward and snatches one of Ran’s claws. The action sends ripples of shock through his body.

“You may,” he grins, and then he takes Ran’s other hand, too, and pulls him towards the center of the room.

Oh, Nightmare, what did I get myself into, Ran worries, his anxiety coming back in full force. He can’t take his shot while Jackie’s distracted in front of so many people!

He scans his surroundings for possible exits, and notes a secluded balcony off the back of the venue. Perfect. He can take Jackie out there while distracted and easily escape to the ground afterwards.

Ran shoves all anxiety about his task out of his mind and instead focuses on the matter at hand: dancing.

Jackie’s hands are in both of his, first of all, and that’s sort of overwhelming on its own. The other thing is that Jackie then slides his hands down so one of them is on his waist, and that’s certainly doing very strange things to Ran’s brain.

“Do you know how to dance?” Jackie asks, beginning to step in patterns.

Ran does a double take at the stepping and immediately tries to copy it.

“I— no, not really.”

“I can tell,” Jackie snorts, and then he puts a slight pressure on Ran where his hands are, slowly guiding him in certain directions. Ran tries to calm down and let Jackie take over.

As soon as Jackie is leading him, they fall into a slight rhythm, stepping, occasionally stumbling, and slowly spinning on the dance floor.

Ran doesn’t really understand this kind of dancing, not really… it’s very different from what endermen culture is like. But as Jackie’s hand on his side gently twirls him into step formations, he’s beginning to think that maybe he enjoys it.

Ran’s hands eventually find themselves more confident, and he starts spinning as well. The music, which had slowed down at one point, begins to pick up the pace.

Jackie giggles as their stumbling becomes more frequent in the twirling of their nonsense dance. On the side of his face, a little smile line pops in.

Oh ender, Ran realizes horribly. I want to make that little thing appear every single day.

The sound reaches a resolute climax, and suddenly Jackie’s leading Ran into a twirl. He follows it without question, simply one with the music—

—and has his feet abruptly swept out from under him as Jackie ends the twirl by dipping him.

Ran’s claws grasp the back of the General’s jacket, but he doesn’t really feel frightened.

He just stares at Jackie as his blonde hair falls into his eyes, and he laughs at his dancing partner’s wide eyes.

Ran can feel the breath on his face.

His ears become very hot, and so he scrambles up to his feet, Jackie aiding him as he goes.

Instinctually, Ran heads towards the balcony— but Jackie is still tangled with him in dance position, so the General comes too; giggling over their loosely threaded hands and flushed faces.

Of one mind, they plop down onto the stone bench outside.

Ran turns away for a moment, attempting to collect his thoughts. But it’s so much more difficult than usual. Rather than shuffling papers, he’s got an infinite abyss to search through, where all the ideas float away the moment they occur.

There’s only a few things that stick out to Ran.

One, the emotion buzzing in his chest.

Two, the burning of Jackie’s fingers still entangled with his.

Three, the cold steel reminder of what Ran needs to do pressing into his arm in his sleeve.

Jackie turns toward him suddenly, forcing Ran to give him his attention.

“Thank you,” Jackie blurts, his face still slightly tinged. “For all that.”

“…You’re welcome,” Ran replies. Inside he’s unsure if Jackie is thanking him for the dance or for saving him from Bubblegum. Either way, he feels he doesn’t deserve it.

Not when he knows what’s about to happen.

They sit in silence for a few seconds longer. Crickets chirp happily on the ground below them, and the stars are coming out above as the street lamps start to be lit. The beats of the party music thump through the ground in tune with Ran’s faulty heart.

It’s such a perfectly beautiful night.

How unfair that it’ll be wasted like this.

“I like your eyes,” Jackie says out of the blue, and then laughs like he said something absurd. He doesn’t look at Ran as he says it. Instead he seems to be finding the ground very interesting.

Of course, as most people know, there is really nothing interesting about the ground at all. People usually stare at it to avoid dreaded conversations.

“I… like your eyes, too,” Ram responds quietly, sneaking a glance at Jackie as he says it. Their hands are still joined, but he manages to slide his dagger slowly down his sleeve until it reaches his palm.

Just a little twitch, and it’ll be into his hand, and through Jackie’s heart. He’s gonna do that. He is, because he has to. And he’s going to.

Just. Maybe a few more seconds; Ran rationalizes to himself through his panic. Jackie can die in a few more seconds, surely.

His hands begin to shake as he pictures a world without Jackie in it.

His tail curls painfully as he imagines his life without Jackie in it. What would he even do anymore?

Return to Terminus, useful and a hero. Be revered and helpful and finally respected.

Jackie respects me, reasons a voice in Ran’s head. He’s startled. Where did that come from?

He shakes his head gently to scatter the thought. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the Council saw and therefore it will be.

Ran gets a firm grip on the knife, beginning to chant to himself in his head kill Jackie.

Jackie sucks in a breath and turns until their knees knock together. Ran is momentarily confused by this, but worse, some part of him… really doesn’t hate it.

Ran thinks about how warm he feels, pressing close to Jackie with one hand in his. And the stars in the sky, and the creatures singing, and Ran realizes oh no.

I want to stay.

Worse… he’s always wanted to stay. He likes the Overworld, with its sun and its growth and its creatures and most of all… its people.

Jackie beams at Ran, and it reminds him how on the Overworld, he’s never lonely.

His imperceptible grip on his knife tightens. Jackie pulls his hand out of Ran’s (he mourns the warmth for just a moment).

He’s not sure what Jackie’s doing at the moment. But does it really matter? Ran needs to focus right now because this is his chance. Who cares what Jackie looks so lost in thought about?

After a moment of deep contemplation, Jackie softly cups Ran’s face with his now free hands. One palm on each cheek, he cradles his head like it’s a precious object.

Immediately, Ran’s face flushes a dark green, and he forgets every single reason he came out to this bench in the first place.

“You know,” Jackie whispers, his eyelids lowering serenely, “they say creatures with green eyes creep out of the ground to bring an end to the world.”

Ran can no longer hear the party music outside at all. The entire world has been swallowed into silence except for the thumping in his burning ears— his own heartbeat, which has flown from his chest to his head. Ran doesn’t know what that means for his health. But at the same time, he can’t bring himself to care.

Right now, Jackie is the only person in the world.

“Is that so?” Ran murmurs in reply.

He has no idea what Jackie is talking about, and doesn’t know if he could think about it if he tried. His blood is rushing in his head, like ocean waves, like a desert storm; and the only thing he can comprehend anymore are the warm hands on his face, and this new, inescapable feeling that’s burning itself into his memory.

You need to kill Jackie. Kill Jackie. Kill Jackie.

At the same time, his right hand trembles on his dagger. He needs to pull it out. He knows he needs to grab it and plunge it into the General’s back. And hold him as he bleeds out, and… and watch the life drain from his intelligent blue eyes and…

Jackie’s face is close enough that Ran can feel the way he takes in a breath and parts his lips before he sighs, “I think I know what that saying means now.”

Before Ran can think this through, he’s leaning in, and his whole field of vision is blue eyes and fiery hair and Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, you need to kill Jackie—

Their lips touch and it’s like Ran’s heart seizes in simultaneous elation and fear.

Instinctively, his hand flicks his knife out of his sleeve and straight around to Jackie’s back.

He plunges towards his mark.

But his jab has somehow gotten stuck on something, and before Ran even knows what’s happening—

He’s slammed into the floor.

Sharp pain flares in the back of Ran’s skull. His hands fly up to his head reflexively.

He tries to gasp but he’s winded, lying completely defenseless on the cold floor.

Jackie had caught the blade with his hand. His reflexes are apparently even faster than Ran’s.

His fingers are wrapped around the silver, holding it high out of Ran’s reach— blood dripping from where his palm has been sliced open while stopping the knife’s course. He’s panting. Stood with wide eyes and mussed hair.

“Oh, I should’ve known,” he groans. And the worst part is… Jackie doesn’t sound angry. He sounds disjointed. Like his voice is fracturing before he can fully get the words out. “I— I really did try to ignore all this. The whole… attempted killings thing you’ve been doing. With the poison, and the guns, and...”

Ran can only look up at the General from the floor, unable to speak. He’s completely winded.

He’s not sure what he’d say even if he could talk.

“Because I thought maybe you were coming around. Or maybe… that you… liked me?”

Jackie laughs humorlessly. He tosses the blade between his two hands, wincing at the pain. “Never mind. That’s dumb, huh? This is just business for you.”

Ran stares at him in abject horror. Witnessing his own nightmare come to life.

He’s broken it. Broken everything. The mission. Jackie’s trust.

“Keep your knife,” the General mutters, and he tosses it to the floor, raising his palm to his eyes to assess the damage. “…I guess I better get this checked out.”

Jackie steps over Ran stiffly and yet casually. Like he was just a particularly large garbage bag someone had left on the floor.

Ran’s tongue is as dry as the desert surroundings as he watches Jackie walk back inside.

He pauses just at the entrance, then turns to look at Ran. His lips are tightly pinched in a way that keeps his emotions from being fully on display. It’s not working too well.

“Bye, Ran,” Jackie mutters, and though it looks like he wants to say much more, he turns into the doorway and disappears.

——

Several minutes, or maybe an hour or two, or maybe years later, Ran is still curled up on the floor in the fetal position.

His mind is full of dark rolling clouds and chaos.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s done for. He’s failed. He has no home to go back to, now.

And yet. And yet.

Ran feels like he doesn’t care anymore.

Does he need to prove himself to the Council? Did he need to prove himself to anyone, really, so long as Jackie looked at him with such adoration?

Ran had held the entire world in his hands and he’d squandered it for a chance at acknowledgment from his … peers. Not even friends. Peers.

But who had been his friend?

Jackie had been his friend.

Or maybe more, Ran remembers as heat creeps under his skin, as he remembers the fire that had blasted through him when they…

Gods above, they had kissed.

And Ran couldn’t just be grateful for that miracle and accept it and let down his walls and drop his weapons and maybe get to stay in Jackie’s arms, or maybe, if he was really lucky, even kiss him again—

No, he’d smashed the opportunity.

He’d messed up his small chance with Jackie by clinging so desperately to his stupid mission.

And he’d messed up his mission by clinging so desperately to Jackie.

There’s not a single thing he hasn’t messed up, there’s not a single purpose he has left after that horrific disaster.

Ran grabs the sides of his head and pushes his face into the floor below him, trying to… he’s not even sure. The emotion in him feels so overwhelming, so encompassing, that it’s filling him up completely.

Like a pool filled to overflowing.

Ran wrenches himself off the floor, reaches for the railing at the edge of the balcony and grasps it.

He pulls himself into a standing position, staring out into the night sky and the trees below.

For a second, he just watches the scenery. Still except for his tail twitching.

Then he screams.

Ran’s jaw unhinges from its place, opening to impossible width, and he lets his screeches escape into the air. It feels natural, like a release. The spines on his back puff up in reaction, and Ran squeezes the rails in his claws.

He leans over the side of the rail and lets the sound build up in his throat, until it becomes a horrible howl, a wailing noise that surely even people sleeping in their houses can hear.

When his throat is raw from the effort, Ran collapses onto the cold tile once again. He hugs his knees to his chest, shaking and still making small chirps and warbles of distress to himself.

His thoughts are lost in a sea of feeling; nothing coherent left but tangles of his self-hatred.

Ran’s chest shudders in the aftershocks of his screaming and wailing. His body finally begins to relax as the fight leaves him and his eyes simply gaze, unfocused, out off the side of the balcony.

…Where will he go now?

Home— no, Terminus (Was it ever really his home?)— Terminus is definitely out of the question. He can’t return a failure.

He’s not returning at all.

He can’t stay here, either, where people know him and where Jackie will surely sound the alarm about his true goals and how dangerous he is.

He’ll have to leave Subbin.

He can pack up his things and be gone by morning if he tries. It won’t be too hard. To leave those families and kids that—

Ran’s head shoots upward. The kids. The missing kids.

That’s it. That’s the one thing he hasn’t messed up yet. The one thing he can still do, that he still has worth for.

Ran can find the children.

They’d just got their information, hadn’t they?

The information was being dug up by decree of the king, and someone was using a warehouse near the far ends of Outskirts.

Ran can go there.

He can go there right now!

He can— he can solve the mystery, and be good for at least one thing, before he leaves forever.

Ran doesn’t even take the time to sit and think about what an awful idea that is before he’s rushing out the door and heading towards the east.

——

It took Ran about an hour of walking and then another hour of asking around but he finally, finally, managed to find the dumb warehouse.

He also had a lot more time to spend thinking about whether or not this was a good idea, which you might have expected him to use. Unfortunately, he didn’t use that time to contemplate on the safety of his idea, and thus remains in the same position now as he was several hours ago. Absolutely, utterly, foolish.

In fact, Ran spends his next several minutes performing the highly inadvisable task of breaking and entering (which mostly involves him breaking the lock with his knife. He doesn’t know how to pick locks).

Then, after all of that prime opportunity to make a good decision in life for once, Ran decides to open up the trapdoor in the back of the mostly-empty warehouse and jump inside.

After all, he has a knife on him.

And now Ran is searching a large network of abandoned-looking tunnels for any signs of missing children or weird science-looking-things. Because this is clearly just the brightest idea he’s ever had.

The halls become darker as he travels, and pretty soon the walls seem oddly rocky enough that Ran realizes they’re tunneling into the ground and not just hallways on an underground floor.

Phobium is found underground, Ran thinks to himself. It’s probably to supply it.

He takes several left turns, unsure of where he’s going, until he smells something oddly… familiar.

Sort of like a weird cleaning substance.

Ran begins to follow the smell, pausing at each crossroads to check both directions before continuing down the one that smells the strongest. Logically, by doing this he’ll find the source eventually.

Also logically, Ran really shouldn’t have come down here in the first place, especially without telling anyone, but he’s decided to simply not think about that, the same way most residents of houses decide to simply not think about their roofs caving in.

Finally, there’s a door that’s open (as opposed to the many closed and locked doors Ran passed on his hunt).

Ran steps into the first brightly lit room in the entire place.

His first thought is that it smells familiar. His second thought is that it’s nice.

It’s built like a study, with books open and photos and notes scattered about.

In the center of the room lies the main attraction— a small skeleton.

For one horrific second, Ran thinks that the skeleton may be human; until he recognizes it as obviously way too small and animalistic.

He squats on the floor to check the notes.

The most recently written note seems to be a sketch of the animal skeleton with different bones and parts labeled. Ran hums curiously and shifts it to the side.

Underneath is a drawing of the creature as if it were alive.

The shape is rabbit-like in appearance, but sitting up on two hind legs. It’s tail is long and winds off into a strange triangle point. And worstly, short twisting horns grow out of the top of its head.

Where the creature’s face would’ve been drawn is instead scribbled out. Perhaps in frustration of an inability to capture the appearance.

Ran lifts up one of the textbooks and reads where a sticky note is stuck. It reads ‘PHOBIUM SOURCE IS DREAMON BONE ?’

“They are rumored to have magical powers beyond human comprehension,” Ran mumbles to himself as he skims, “supposedly able to possess others and reside within their soul, and possibly buried under the mines from the caves they originally escaped to. Dreamons are known for—“ Ran pauses. He checks the author and the date of publication. He flips through the index.

It doesn’t seem suspicious. Is this a legitimate textbook?

Ran slides his finger under a different sticky note and skips to that part, his eyes zeroing in on it.

“Rumored to look similar to rabbits or cats,” he whispers to himself, shutting the book with a snap.

He stares down at the little rodent skeleton.

“So you’re a,” Ran realizes, his huge eyes widening. “A real…”

His tail twitches. How on earth did the missing children lead him to this? The source of Subbin’s phobium was really just mined fossil remnant in rock?

Actually, that makes a little bit of sense.

In fact, he—

“Shit, someone got in,” says a voice behind Ran, and he leaps in fright before whipping around with his knife out in a fighting position.

Behind him, holding up a metal baseball bat, stands Watson.

Ran’s entire body freezes in shock. Watson’s eyebrows crook a fraction higher.

“Ran? Tsk. That’s a shame.”

He swings the bat directly into Ran’s head.

Then, like most sentient creatures when struck in the brain with a very hard object, Ran crumples to the ground, completely unconscious.

Tonight was not his best night for ideas.

Chapter Text

There’s a place in the human consciousness that rests serenely between awake and asleep. It’s a strange place to reside, but ultimately the most peaceful of all mental escapes.

It’s a bleary, dreary area, and it can only be reached when you’re first waking up in the morning, but haven’t quite come to your senses yet. Where you are inhaling and shifting in your sheets, but you can still remember what you were dreaming about.

When the waking world hasn’t quite gotten its grip on your brain yet, even though you are no longer asleep.

You can only be in this place for so long, though, and once you leave it you generally won’t remember being in it in the first place— the same way you’d forget your own dreams.

Jackie Brackett is in this place, just briefly, his eyes still closed and his head turning slightly on his cool pillow. He exhales contentedly, his mind chasing the fleeting images of gold he’d been dreaming of.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open.

It’s a Monday morning, is Jackie’s first horrible realization of the day. I have to go to work.

Jackie’s second horrible realization is… just about everything else.

Waking up from a dream into a nightmare is an incredibly awful experience, and it’s incredibly inconvenient that Jackie had to experience it in this morning in particular. Before he knew it, any feeling of comfort he’d been having vanished; replaced with a cruel dread.

Maybe he’ll stay in bed for a little bit longer.

Unfortunately, trying to fall back asleep once you’re anxious is nigh impossible. So Jackie rolls over in his sheets and glares at the ceiling.

His ceiling is really stupid, is what he’s decided. A stupid horrible ceiling. It radiates an aura of smugness no ceiling ought to have.

A stabbing pain draws Jackie’s attention to his left hand. He lifts it up out of his sheets to give it a stern look. Maybe if his look is stern enough, it’ll stop hurting.

Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t actually work.

Shit. He’s gonna have to clean it and apply medicine again.

Jackie lets his arm fall back into his sheets and sinks into the mattress a little. What if he just… didn’t go into work today. Would that be okay? Maybe no one would notice. Maybe the soldiers would be fine being taught by only—

Jackie immediately screws his eyes shut. Fuck. Why’d he go and do that.

He’s not going to cry today. He cried yesterday, and the day before that… and the night before that, too, when the nurses in the castle infirmary had finally given him privacy.

He’s not going to do it today. He needs to stop moping over a problem that was one hundred percent his own creation.

If I’d killed Ran as soon as I knew, Jackie thinks for the one thousandth time, None of this would have ever happened.

But that’s the problem, his traitorous thoughts whisper back as always. None of this would have ever happened.

Jackie sniffles, loudly, and sits up.

He’s done with moping. There will be no more moping. What is he, a child? No. Of course not.

He slides out of bed slowly, careful of jostling his injured hand. He’s lucky to even still have the damn thing, honestly.

Since that dagger had been poisoned.

Jackie knew it was poisoned. No self-respecting assassin, when trying to off someone so prone to violence, would use a non-poisoned dagger.

As soon as he’d left the party that night, mumbling apologies to anyone he carelessly bumped into, he’d headed for the infirmary and asked them to treat him for blood poisoning.

Being as well-known as he was, they’d reacted rather quickly. Multiple nurses crowded around him and cleaned his wound, tested his blood, made him take cleansers and medicines and all sorts of things to flush his body of the toxin.

He’s lucky for that.

Poison like this, if not treated immediately, can cause organ failure and death. Jackie sighs heavily and pushes out any thoughts of what could’ve happened if he’d decided to just avoid getting help that night.

He stands up.

At the very same moment, his door jostles and and swings open. Jackie yelps and grabs the nearest weapon— a wooden practice sword that had been leaning against his nightstand.

The maid stands frozen in surprise. Her navy hair is tucked into a proper bun, and her large eyes widen at Jackie. She begins to close the door again, her skirt inching out of the frame.

“No— no, it’s okay,” Jackie coughs, trying to hide the way his voice cracks. “Come in, Bluebird.”

The woman watches him warily, but she steps inside again, pulling along a cart of cleaning supplies. Once she’s in the room, she begins walking around and gathering up Jackie’s work that’s been scattered about.

“I’m sorry, mister Brackett,” Bluebird says, stacking the papers in the middle of the room. “You’re not usually in here at this time.”

“It’s fine,” Jackie reassured her, sitting back down on his bed. The sword clatters to the hardwood floor. His head kind of hurts, but not as much as his hand. “I just slept in because of my injury.”

Bluebird’s eyebrows raise and she straightens up, carrying bundles of laundry. “If you’re injured, you should certainly stay here instead of working! That is very responsible.”

Jackie, who’d been about to announce he was leaving in just a moment, shuts his mouth.

Should he stay home? He’s never missed a day of work before.

“I can even bring you breakfast,” Bluebird suggests, messing with something on her cart. “How does that sound?”

“I— no— it’s fine. I was heading down there anyway to visit the infirmary, honestly.”

“Hm.” The maid folds her arms and looks suspiciously at him. Sweat beads on Jackies’s face. She can probably tell that he’s planning to sneak away to work as he gets out of the doctors. She has that aura.

Bluebird dusts her hands off, before turning the cart towards the doorway. “I’ll inform the messengers to tell the recruits they have the day off, then.”

Damn. She’s thwarted him.

“Fine,” Jackie groans, and he hears the maid laugh softly to herself.

Before she’s fully out the door, Jackie asks something he’s not sure he should have.

“So Ran’s skipped out, huh?”

Jackie doesn’t know why he asked. He bites down on his lip, hard. Of course Ran left town. That’s what you do after your assassination attempt on the top general is thwarted. You get the hell out of dodge and leave no evidence behind.

Bluebird looks at him over her shoulder, her expression pitying.

“Well, no one’s seen him since Friday night.”

About what Jackie expected.

…Fuck that guy.

“Fine, I guess everyone gets the day off,” Jackie grumbles, and he grabs a lightweight hoodie from the floor (a dark gray one, today) and slides past Bluebird out the door.

He very pointedly ignores the vase on his bedside table.

The maid tsks and shakes her head at him, which Jackie also elects to ignore.

He walks down the palace halls, holding his hand to his chest subconsciously as he takes the turns downstairs to the infirmary. He hadn’t lied about going there… it’s important to get his hand regularly tended to if he wants to keep it.

The nurse, Pony, automatically gets out their cleaning equipment when they see Jackie come in. They’re used to him by now.

Jackie is also used to Pony, so he holds out his hand and sits on the medical table. The lizard person takes his hand and unwraps the past night’s bandages, their large and two-tone eyes unblinking.

Jackie huffs. “You know, they’re making me take the day off of work today. To rest up my injury.”

Pony says nothing while they begin to clean Jackie’s wound gently. It seems that, as usual, they don’t feel up to speaking.

Jackie hunches his shoulders. “And of course, fucking Ran is gone off who-knows-where— can’t even teach his own class. To avoid me, probably! He knows I could kick his ass!”

Using his uninjured hand, Jackie mimes some punches, adding verbal sound effects for maximum effect.

Pony rolls their eyes.

“Exactly! So dumb. But I mean, the trick didn’t work, so.”

Jackie trails off, biting down on the inside of his lip to stop himself from hissing at the pain of the cleaning stuff Pony uses. They start wrapping his palm in new bandages, meeting his eyes with a completely blank, yet supremely disappointed, look.

Jackie flushes. “Look, it— I don’t want to talk about it.”

Pony doesn’t press. Instead, they finish their job, and pat Jackie gently on the back to let him know he can leave.

“Thank you,” he mumbles as he slides off the bench, and he keeps his head lowered as he makes his way to the brunch hall.

——

Jackie sighs in the garden, lying flat on his back and staring up into the sun.

He’s planning to go back to the pit and check on his students— that is, if there’s any still there— but right now he’s trying to enjoy the sunlight.

Enjoyment, at the moment, just seems… near impossible.

Jackie hadn’t managed to eat more than a few bites of breakfast before his stomach disagreed with it and he was forced to stop.

He’d come out here to try and breathe and relax (the palace gardens are a perfect place for that) but it turns out trying not to think about something only makes you think about how you’re not thinking about it. Which makes Jackie’s anxiety grow worse and his chest tighten in physical pain.

He can’t even relax because his heart hurts. And not in the cheesy way where he’s sad, in the real way, where it’s hard to breathe because his chest feels constrained.

Luckily, Jackie’s been in the killing business long enough to know what prolonged anxiety attacks feel like when he has them.

Shit. Thinking about his assassin days is only going to make him feel worse.

Jackie covers his eyes, trying to adjust his lying position so his face gets the most sun. But he can only do that for a few seconds before his brain forces him to stop and look around. Keep watch of his surroundings.

Be on guard.

Jackie is… not a good person, plainly speaking.

He’s done murders. Lots of murders. Good ones, too.

And supposedly they were criminals, or mob members, but Jackie knows in his heart that there’s just no statistical way they were all evil, or that none of them had homes and people who loved them.

Jackie ended all that. He took away their opportunities for more choices, including choices that could’ve made them better— and doomed anyone who loved them to an unshakable sorrow.

Jackie knows what that’s like.

The loss of a loved one is something incredibly tragic, and the way it affects people cannot really be explained. If you have lost a loved one, then you know how Jackie feels. If you haven’t, then it is entirely impossible to imagine.

Either way, Jackie is aware of the exact feeling he must’ve inflicted onto other people. And it haunts him, a little bit. In the edges of his mind.

Normally, he’s able to ignore it. Sometimes Jackie can go months without even remembering it happened. But occasionally, something will happen that trips him up, and… he’ll be stuck thinking on it. Ruminating.

Wondering if maybe he deserved all those revenge killings sent after him, after all?

Would it really be so terrible if Ran had…

Jackie shuts that thought down. And a lot of other thoughts, too, for good measure.

The summer sun is hot on his face. He should probably go check on the pit.

Since goddamn Ran isn’t here to—

Jackie sits up, a broken sob escaping his chest involuntarily.

“Shit,” he hisses to himself. “I said I wouldn’t cry today.”

Jackie has never felt such a burning shame as he did that night a few days ago.

The horror, mixed with the pain, mixed with the knowledge this was his fault. He’d fallen, completely and utterly, for that stupid assassin’s twisted game. Fully conscious of it, and allowing himself to anyway. And he had no one to blame but his own dumb self.

Jackie can identify poisoned drinks. He knew what’d happen very quickly before it did. Identifying Ran as the perpetrator wasn’t hard either— Ran isn’t exactly the best about being subtle, in some cases.

But apparently, he is good at playing stupid mind games.

Jackie takes a shuddering breath. He tries to remind himself what he’s decided over the weekend.

What’s done is done, Jackie exhales. What’s important now is I protect myself, and I don’t make that mistake again.

Jackie rises to his feet, breathing slowly.

I need to eat something.

“Woah, hey! Heh, didn’t know anyone else was gonna be out here.”

Jackie turns to see King Porkius entering the garden. His usual chest plate is removed, and instead he’s simply wearing long red robes that brush the grass as he approaches Jackie.

He must be very strong, or very confident, to remove his armor in a place like this where no one can see him, thinks Jackie, before he brushes the idea aside.

The King lowers himself onto a marble bench and smiles at Jackie, his tusks pushing up.

“Don’t you have work today?”

Jackie blanches and quickly stands up straighter. “Uh— Yes, I did, but, uh, I gave the students off— a day off— because—“

Porkius begins to cackle. Jackie falls silent.

When he’s done, he wipes his eyes and turns towards Jackie again, eyes sparkling. “I know, I know, I’m just ribbin’ on you.”

“… Oh,” Jackie responds. He hadn’t realized the King was really all that capable of jokes. Then again, maybe he was joking all those times he was threatening to kill people? His tone is… pretty much always like that.

“I heard you had a run-in with an assassin. Assassination attempts already? You’re pretty popular, General.”

Jackie’s face burns and he looks at his feet. How does he know about that anyhow? Who snitched? Only the doctors and Bluebird know he’s injured, and he didn’t tell any of them how his hand got sliced open…

The king shakes his head.

“Oh, no need to get embarrassed. These things happen to the best of us!”

“It shouldn’t have happened to me,” Jackie mutters. Porkius chuckles.

“Speakin’ of… well, actually, we weren't speakin’ of him, but I was thinkin’, and I gotta change the subject somehow…” Porkius rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “Have you seen Watson anywhere?”

Jackie briefly recalls the times he’s walked through the palace recently (which have been very rare, considering he’s been mostly bedridden).

“No, I haven’t seen him,” Jackie realizes, and then meets the kings’ eyes. “Why?”

Porkius laughs again, but awkwardly this time, shifting his hooves in the grass.

“Well, it’s mostly nothin’… just that I haven’t seen him in around three days. I mean, it’s not too big a deal, and I’m not worried or anythin’, just… you know. He was supposed to be doing something important. Wonder where he went.”

Jackie’s eyebrows raise through his sharp intake of breath. Three days? Surely that must be a coincidence.

Ran wouldn’t have run off… with Watson, would he? Could they be working together? Plotting? Oh god.

Jackie considers warning Porkius about the attempted assassins in their midst who are possibly off plotting, but quickly realizes he has no proof. And Porkius seems to like Watson anyway, so that wouldn’t work.

Jackie sighs to himself, turning to regard one of the rose bushes. Should he snoop through Ran’s room later to see if he’s left anything that could be proof?

Of course, any good assassin leaves not a trace of their presence, but it wouldn’t hurt to try…

Jackie makes a mental note for later.

“So what’s your plans for today? Or are you gonna admire flowers the whole time?”

Jackie blinks back into reality and avoids the King’s eyes, embarrassed.

He doesn’t actually want to think about flowers right now.

“I was just gonna… treat myself to lunch? And go for a walk?”

Porkius narrows his eyes and Jackie realizes that if he knows about the assassination, he might also know that Jackie is supposed to be staying in bed.

“Well, have fun. I’ve got work to get to.”

And King Porkius stands from the park bench and meanders off back the way he came.

——

Jackie really shouldn’t head towards the Pit.

He’s had his lunch (he treated himself to seafood, today) already. He’s taken his walk. Gotten his fresh air.

But… well, no one will notice if he checks on it. And maybe spends the afternoon there, planning for tomorrow’s work, as well.

The sun is on the west end of the sky at this point; dipping towards Outskirts in the distance. Jackie reaches to tie his hair back, prepared to maybe get some exercise done while he’s here, as well. To make full use of the vacation day and all that.

He pushes open the gate to the colosseum (noting with amusement that the machinery stationed to take down the walls are still sitting there, the job unfinished months later) and takes a turn for the armory, but then pauses.

He hears voices.

Jackie swiftly grabs a staff from the floor and speed walks out of the armory, around the back, and into the main pit, where he raises it up and—

Stops when he sees Crumb tripping Gyre over, Kindle doing laps, Mash practicing a battle move, and many of the other trainees working in the pit.

Jackie lets his staff hand drop. “What are you guys doing here?”

“General Brackett!” Kindle gasps, her head flaring up even brighter as she turns to run in his direction. “I thought you weren’t coming today!”

“Everyone has the day off,” Jackie responds, somewhat defensively, and the fire elemental girl only flickers cheerily at him.

Crumb shrugs, pretending not to see Gyre whining on the floor where she’d tripped him. “Well we were all bored, and here anyway, so.”

Gyre spots Jackie and stops his whining, scrambling to his webbed feet so he can race across the sand.

“Where’s Commander Aetherman?” Gyre pants, craning his neck over Jackie’s shoulder like Ran could be hiding back there.

Jackie bites down on his lip, hard.

“He’s not… he left.”

“Left?” Gyre repeats, sounding confused.

“Yes.”

Crumb tilts her head at Jackie, and then she makes an unreadable facial expression at Gyre, who makes one right back.

Jackie watches this exchange, suddenly feeling like a very old man. He’s not an old man, he’s only—

“So when’s he coming back?” Crumb asks, her nose scrunching up. “‘Cause he promised Gyre he’d teach him that flying kick-flip.”

Gyre nods aggressively.

Jackie feels himself pulling away from the conversation, the awkwardness of disappointing someone beginning to set it.

It might not be his fault that Ran left, but it’s definitely his fault that Ran was around for so long in the first place… enough for so many people to get attached…

Jackie crushes any subsequent thoughts about blue flowers, crossing his arms.

“I don’t… know if he’s coming back,” he chooses to lie instead. Gyre frowns, but he doesn’t look as worried as Jackie would expect him to be.

Crumb, meanwhile, scoffs. “Oh, he’s coming back. No fight with you could keep him away for long, General.”

Jackie gapes at Crumb like a startled goldfish.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, sir. We see the way he looks at you!”

Gyre begins snickering to himself, and he adds, “He’s not gonna stay in the doghouse too long, huh?”

Jackie has no fucking clue what to say or even think in response to that.

Crumb and Gyre continue to argue as Jackie zones out completely.

I… hate him, Jackie thinks to himself, brokenly. I hate that bastard and how he tricked me. How he spun me for a circle. How I was just a fish on his line that he baited.

Jackie’s nails push into his arms as he squeezes them.

No. I’m just as much to blame.

I chose to be stupid. I knew— I knew exactly what he was doing, and I still— I still—

Jackie pictures what Ran had looked like, the first time Jackie managed to outsmart his little scheme in the training pit. His eyes were wide, angry; his spines puffed up. His face was flushed green.

Jackie still fell for all of it. All of Ran.

Because he was fucking— he was nice sometimes, wasn’t he? There were times he showed he cared. But those were all part of the act.

Jackie’s chest begins to close, his thoughts and his heartbeats tangling up like an unruly ball of yarn. His breathing shudders.

Jackie still fell for all of it. Despite knowing what was going to happen, despite being fully aware it was a trap and the charming enderman wanted nothing but to kill him, he fell for — for him. Because he’s so stupid that he convinced himself nothing bad would happen if he just inched a little closer. Pushed a little harder.

Fuck. He can’t do this in front of the students.

Jackie sniffs and jerks his chin away from them, up towards the mostly-dismantled audience stands. If he tilts his head up like that, the tears won’t fall.

He manages to compose himself as Razz yelps in the distance when one of the kids shoves them again.

He also manages to spot a black figure disappear in the upper hallway.

“What the hell—“ Jackie uncrosses his arms, going on the defensive. A large part of him, upon seeing the tall and dark shadow, thinks of Ran. The rest of him screams danger.

Jackie gives chase.

As he’s sprinting across the pit in the direction he saw the shadow go, he begins to shout.

“Possible breach! Everyone skirt out! Mash, to me! Now!”

Immediately, the twenty or so soldiers drop to the sand, scrambling off into the sides to be protected by overhangings on the walls. The dinosaur woman runs after Jackie, keeping close on his tail.

They skid to a stop below the spot where Jackie saw the intruder disappear. The pit is eerily quiet compared to the hustle and laughter a few moments ago.

Mash tilts her head, waiting for instructions. Jackie points up at the third level.

“Throw me up there.”

The dinosaur crouches, holding their hands out as a little platform. Jackie takes a running jump into her palms and they launch him upwards.

He catches the landing of the third level, and pulls himself up onto it easily, shooting a thumbs up over the edge at the troop.

Then he turns and begins weaving back into the halls in the back of the colosseum.

Jackie mostly goes with his gut, turning into the darker hallways. Eventually he catches a glimpse of a cloak and knows he’s got his catch.

He speeds up, barreling around the corner and almost into the tall figure. It turns toward him and hisses, the large purple eyes giving away that it’s absolutely not Ran.

Jackie scrambles backwards in shock as the creature, which does bear startling resemblance to Ran, puffs up like a large cat while it screeches at him. Endermen are so rare these days, but Jackie, unlike most people, still knows what they look like.

It drops something out of the cloak, which skids across the floor ominously.

Jackie spares a single second to glance down at the object he’s presented with.

“… Is that a fucking bomb—“

The enderman punches toward his jaw.

Jackie throws himself to the side to avoid most of the damage, shouting in surprise. He counters by socking it in the ear. While it reels from that, he kicks it in the side.

The creature screeches again and disappears. Glowing sparkles that match its eyes seem to shower where it stood. Jackie is thrown for a loop until it appears behind him and hits him in the back of the head.

Shit, endermen can teleport. And that hurts.

Jackie elbows the thing while it’s still behind him, and then twists to knee it in the stomach, too.His vision fills with purple particles as the thing poofs away. Jackie coughs, holding his injured hand to his chest, and braces himself into defensive mode, waiting for another attack from any side.

The endermen reappears at the end of the hall, its spines still raised threateningly.

“Why are you here?” Jackie snaps, straightening his shoulders so he looks bigger. You always gotta strike fear into the enemy with your appearance.

The creature’s huge purple eyes (what a god-awful color) zero in on Jackie, slitted like a cats, and it opens its mouth. When it speaks, it speaks with an odd, pitchy accent, and it takes a few seconds to understand what it said.

“You can’t hide Ran from us. We know where he is.”

Jackie’s eyebrows furrow and he takes a startled step in the enderman’s direction.

“What do you mean? Isn’t he your pet assassin, you twisted little—“

The tall form disappears with a puff of glowy particles, cloak and all.

Jackie shouts in anger.

The hallway is quiet.

Jackie realizes two things— one, the trainees are down below and he doesn’t know where that enderman just went.

Two, he’s alone with an active bomb.

Jackie crouches onto the floor, studying the mechanism. The way it’s put together is… very crude, and contains machinery that Jackie has never seen before and wouldn’t know how to describe.

In short, it’s perfectly alien.

Or maybe like an alien was trying to poorly imitate a human explosive.

“Okay, okay,” Jackie mutters, “The trainees are still down there.”

He stands and ignores his instincts to stay by the bomb, beginning to sprint down the halls, haphazardly taking turns until he reaches the light and leans out over the landing.

His feet are sore, his breath is slower, and his hand hurts. A lot.

Jackie cups his hands around his mouth and shouts at the soldiers hiding below.

“We’ve got a code black! And an enemy paveway!” Multiple frightened eyes look up at Jackie from their hiding places down below.

He feels bad. “Trainees: clear out! Razz, to me! Gyre, bucket! Mash, launching! Go now!”

The twenty or so people hiding under the overhang slide out and begin rushing towards the exit. The first one to reach it, Millie, stands in the gate and makes sure everyone passes her before she shuts it.

Gyre breaks off from the rest to head around the back of the colosseum. Meanwhile, Mash delicately lifts Razz up to Jackie’s level.

Jackie grabs Razz’s hands and helps to pull them onto the floor with him. Their large, electronic face flashes, and their antennae curl backwards in fear.

But despite being terrified, they still follow Jackie back into the hall to inspect the threat.

“Oh no,” says Razz as they scan over the small machine. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Me neither,” Jackie admits, and he crouches down to inspect it. “But the design is really… basic, if you think about it. Just seems like they did it in a really roundabout way.”

Razz’s head crackles with static for a moment. “I see what you mean. I think this—“ they reach forward to tap a small canister— “is very bad news.”

“How so?”

Razz lets their large face lilt slightly to the side, likely as they do some mental calculating.

“The explosion would be as big as the city.”

Jackie’s stomach drops. “… What?”

The soldier beside him draws a circle with their hands.

“There is enough firepower contained here to create a lot of destruction. Most of Subbin would be taken out in about…” they shudder. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Holy shit.” Jackie clenches both his fists.

“General! I’ve got the water— !” shouts Gyre’s voice as he comes careening around the corner.

“Stop!” Jackie barks, and Gyre immediately halts in position. He spots the clearly unstable device on the floor.

“Oh god,” Gyre mumbles, taking an extra step back. “Oh god oh god.”

Jackie, still crouching, waves to Razz. “Gyre, leave the bucket. Take Razz and I want you two to get everyone as far away from the Pit as possible.”

Razz crackles as if they’re about to protest and Jackie holds up a hand. “Stay on com with me, alright? I’ll need your help, but I’ll be fine.”

Razz turns back and forth between Gyre and Jackie, before they finally rise to their feet with a salute.

Jackie salutes back, and he watches the two of them disappear down the hall.

Hopefully they get very far away from here in case he fucks this part up.

Jackie pulls out a small communicator and flicks it open, the hissing static noise filling the silence and, oddly, soothing him.

After a moment the static crackles away and Razz’s voice cuts in. “How’s it looking, General?”

They’re terrified, but trying very hard to hide it. Jackie feels himself grow proud.

“Not great, but I appreciate you being on the line. What’s our first go?”

Jackie mentally ticks in his head how long they’ve got until this thing fucking explodes. Probably around twelve minutes.

“Okay. Process… how many wires has it got connected to the canister, versus the power source?”

Jackie exhales, deeply, and gingerly lifts the device to turn it over. He’s held bombs before, this one shouldn’t be that different.

He counts, turning it over and making sure he’s seen everything.

“Four and three, difference of one.”

“Understood. Any… Any identification of the brand?”

Jackie squints and turns the thing over a few times on his palms. It’s a bit unwieldy, considering it’s around the size and weight of a bowling ball.

“No. Thing appears to be home-made. I was afraid of that.”

Razz emits a whirring sound for a moment. Jackie internally pleads that the stress doesn’t get the best of the poor thing.

“Check for… batteries.”

“Negative.”

“What is it powered by?”

Jackie raises the bomb unreasonably close to his face.

His heart rate is growing faster with every passing second. With every moment that he might not make it out of here alive.

“Some sort of glowy shit.”

“Helpful. Try to make an incision in the fourth wire closest to the canister. As clean as possible, no sparks.”

Jackie opens his pocket knife and, carefully, slices through the wire.

“Clear.”

“Affirmative. Now remove the canister from the device.”

Five minutes left. Jackie’s hair is becoming a little damp from his nervous sweat. He wipes his forehead off, attempting a proper breath.

“I don’t have pliers on me.”

There’s silence on the line, and then a hissing static noise.

Jackie’s brain whirrs. He can’t imagine what happens if he fails to disarm this explosive.

The whole city— all of the Subbin Empire—

Jackie breathes shakily, tapping his fingers on the concrete ground.

“Razz, ask one of the avians to drop some in the top,” he orders. “Make sure they’re aware of the risk and that they need to be fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jackie swallows air, drumming his fingers faster.

He’s not going to die here. He’s just not.

He still has so many… things to do.

Well, not really, but that doesn’t mean he wants to die.

Maybe he wants to reconcile with Ran.

No, not that, Jackie recoils from his own thought. Of course he can’t reconcile with Ran. The guy never liked him in the first place. He was just playing with his— his feelings.

Jackie aches with the devastation of that knowledge.

Speaking of Ran, the enderman had mentioned that they knew where Ran was. They were looking for him. It sounded like a threat, too. Did they know Ran had failed his assassination attempts? Clearly.

But why tell Jackie? Did they think Jackie was hiding their missing member? That doesn’t even make sense. What reason would he have to protect his own killer?

…Would Jackie protect Ran, if he’d asked?

This isn’t the time for thoughts like that, Jackie reminds himself with a furious headshake. Ran is off somewhere, possibly with Watson, possibly planning to come back and kill him, and he’s got to save Subbin from a god damn bomb!

A tapping noise sounds on the roof. Jackie throws his head upwards in time to see pliers dropped down into one of the skylights.

Joey salutes him from where he’s hovering over the colosseum.

“Get out of here!” Jackie snaps. “There’s less than a minute!”

The avian balks in flight and whirls around, hopefully far away.

Jackie lunges for the pliers on the floor, and holds them up to the explosive with a shaking hand.

“Okay Jackie,” he whispers. “Just… extract it.”

Using the pliers, he gently hooks into the sides of the canister of whatever explosive they used and pries it outward. He shudders, but tries very hard to keep his hand steady.

If he messes up even a little, it could set the thing off, and kill him instantly.

Jackie pulls it out with a yank, and then immediately drops the object into the bucket Gyre had left sitting just a few feet away.

Then he falls to the ground and holds his hands over his head. Just in case.

Ten seconds pass.

Thirty seconds pass.

A pause.

Jackie gasps for air, rolling over onto his back. His arms unfold and flop to his sides. The back of his head pushes against the cool concrete to try and combat his headache.

He’s alive.

Shit, he’s alive.

Jackie laughs to himself, a little breathlessly, feeling the exhilaration and adrenaline coursing. He could do anything, right about now, he could—

Jackie sits up.

He needs to find Ran.

Ran hadn’t told him about his… boss, or whatever it was that had sent the assassin after Jackie. Jackie clearly needs that info, since those same people are now targeting Subbin as a whole.

Subbin may be one of the shittiest empires on the planet, but Jackie’s duty is to protect the people who live here.

He kind of likes some of them, anyway.

He needs to find that stupid enderman.

Jackie gets onto his feet, and nearly falls over from how shaky his legs are. Once he straightens himself out, he heads out onto the balcony.

It takes a couple minutes to climb down without help and with shaky limbs, but once Jackie hits the sand, he stands and walks confidently out onto the streets.

Many of them are empty. Looks like his troop succeeded in clearing people out.

Jackie flips open his communicator. It crackles to life.

“General Brackett?”

“All clear, soldier,” Jackie reports, and he can’t keep the grin out of his voice. “Send some people up to carefully dispose of the pieces. Let everyone come back out and resume their day as normal. Meanwhile…”

Jackie looks up at the distantly setting sun.

“I’ve got an enderman to find.”

——

Ms. Laramie is watering flowers when Jackie manages to get her attention.

She looks up, seemingly surprised to see him, and then smiles.

“General! A pleasure.”

“Hello, ma’am,” Jackie mumbles. “I was wondering — have you seen Ran?”

He’s got to track down that dumbass if he wants his information. And maybe he can force Ran to help him piece together some final things about the missing children, as well. Just to use him to his full potential.

Ms. Laramie’s eyes widen thoughtfully. Her ever-flowing tears trickle down her chin and into her scarf.

“Seen him? Why, not since Friday night, I guess.”

Jackie hisses in annoyance. “Did you see where he went?”

The schoolteacher tilts her head, gazing into the distance.

“Well, it was very late at night,” Jackie perks up, “but he seemed to be headed West.”

“West?” Jackie echoes, confused. “But there’s nothing West.” Subbin just stretches in that direction until it becomes the outskirts.

Ms. Laramie shrugs. “It’s all I know. I am sorry he’s not here. You’d think he’d join you on today, of all days—“

“Oh, shut up,” Jackie interrupts, turning red. Nightmare’s sake, this old lady just does not forget anything about her students.

She chuckles. “See you later, Jackie.”

See you later indeed, Jackie grumbles in his head, and he tramps off in the direction of the castle.

Apparently he’ll have to check Ran’s room after all.

——

Jackie stands there while Bluebird unlocks the door, and it’s possibly the longest thirty seconds he’s had in a while.

…He’s not sure the adrenaline from the earlier threat hasn’t worn off, to be honest.

When the maid opens the door, Jackie rushes in, fully ready to start searching under the bed and in the cracks in the walls.

He doesn’t expect the room to still have stuff in it.

There's papers on the walls— letters, it seems, and newspapers. Things Ran had been collecting that, after a quick scan from Jackie, seem to either be about him, or about missing persons.

“Glad to know he cares,” Jackie mutters sarcastically… but in reality he’s still shocked that there’s anything in this room at all.

Assassins don’t leave shit behind. That’s like, Assassination 101.

Bluebird leans against the wall in the hallways outside, probably thinking the General was out of his mind.

Jackie turns to the bed. It’s not made properly— one of the blankets is very off-center. Beside it, not even attempting to be hidden, is a suitcase.

Jackie crouches down and pops it open.

At this point, he’s not sure he’s surprised or not when the thing is full of disassembled weapons, and a wide assortment of glass bottles of poison.

Curiously, only two-thirds of them seem to be open. Some of those are the Overworld’s most common poison types (what is this, amateur hour?). The others are very odd poisons that swirl around or are made of pure hypotonic solutions. Jackie realizes that while something like that may have seemed deadly to Ran, it probably wouldn’t have hurt a human in the slightest unless he drank it straight.

Jackie lifts the unopened poisons next, puzzled as to their purpose. Why carry poisons you don’t use? You’d think you’d want to try everything possible on the victim.

Some of these are labeled in a language Jackie can’t even begin to decipher. But many of them have notes scrawled on in a handwriting that Jackie’s begun to recognize over the past few months.

‘Endermen Only’, reads multiple. Well, that explains that. Why use something proven to not work on humans?

Jackie expects the last two unopened vials to be similar, but when he checks the label he almost drops them in surprise.

‘Much too painful,’ they both say. ‘Cruel. DO NOT use on Jackie’.

“That’s my name,” Jackie says aloud, and then he reads the labels again. And then re-reads.

What could possibly be so painful that Ran wouldn’t even use it to kill him?

Why wouldn’t Ran want to cause him pain?

Jackie finds himself caught on that. Confused.

He doesn’t like feeling confused.

But it doesn’t make sense, Jackie thinks to himself. Why… wouldn’t Ran want to hurt me?

Could it be another trick?

But who is there to trick, in the labeling of poisons? There’s no possible way Ran knew he was going to sneak in here.

Jackie shakes his head as if to scatter the thoughts themselves away. He can’t get caught up on what Ran is feeling; he needs to know where he is.

And why wouldn’t he take his stuff with him?

Think, Jackie, think. Why wouldn’t you take your stuff with you?

“He… didn’t want to leave,” Jackie muses. “Or maybe he was forced.”

Well, that makes sense— his plot had been foiled. Of course he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

But wait, that doesn’t quite add up either. Ran would’ve needed to leave immediately after he killed Jackie, because he would be a prime suspect, considering everyone in this palace knows they… hang out a lot.

So he would’ve already had his stuff packed and been out of here, whether he failed or not.

“This isn’t adding up,” Jackie grumbles, frustrated, and he leaves the rest of the room untouched.

Back in his own room, he collapses into the bed, trying to ignore the dull ache in his hand that’s starting up again.

That fight had taken a lot out of him.

From his doorway, Bluebird coughs. Jackie shifts so he can glare at her with one eye through his hair.

“Your flower is going to die soon,” Bluebird points out helpfully. “I noticed while I was cleaning earlier and you definitely weren’t straining yourself outside.”

Jackie winces at the tone. He has the decency to feel a little ashamed.

Bluebird steps inside, trotting over to the shelf in the corner and pulling off a dusty book.

Jackie sits up with a yelp, wanting her to put that down immediately, but he’s tired enough that it’s too quiet for her to notice.

“Wow, this book is dusty— anyway, I was thinking you should press it!” She hands the old hardcover to Jackie, seemingly oblivious to his shock at her touching it. “That way you can keep it even when it’s dead.”

A small part of Jackie’s brain is pleasantly surprised at this idea. He would like to keep that bluebell long after it’s dead. Even if he wants to kill the gifter.

The larger part of him is absolutely furious that she’d disturbed one of his father’s books.

“Why did you do that?” Jackie asks, annoyed. It’s the only thing he can manage to get out.

Bluebird shrugs.

“I just thought you could use a little cheering up. Especially because it’s your birthday and all.”

Oh hell no.

“Who told you that,” Jackie groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Someone in this castle is a fucking gossip and he’s gonna find them.

Jackie lets his eyes drop down to the book as Bluebird babbles away awkwardly, and eventually leaves the room. (Perhaps she can tell he’s in a bad mood. Some eighteenth, huh?)

The book is old as hell, as all of his father’s are. The old man had managed to haggle all of these off of traders, who’d gotten them from traders, who had probably stolen them from someone’s family heirlooms.

The point is they’re ancient, and Jackie hasn’t read any of them in years. He used to be interested in the fairytale accounts back when he was younger, but they stopped interesting him quite a while ago, when he got older.

This one in particular is called “Enderwalkers”, and it’s about how endermen can sometimes have a condition in which they disassociate and commit actions they normally wouldn’t, that they feel forced to do—

Jackie almost drops his book.

“Holy shit,” he says aloud, and flips open the book to a random page. The author had been quite an odd person, often crossing out and rewriting or writing over their ‘findings’, which made it confusing to read. But the general things Jackie remember still seem there. “Holy shit.”

That’s the answer, isn’t it? Ran is being forced to do something.

That’s why the endermen want to find him now— they’re worried he’s broken out of their control.

Maybe they have a way to make him leave, Jackie theorizes, his brain spinning at top speed. They’re marching him off with mind control to go somewhere and wait to be retrieved.

This begs the question— how much is Ran forced to do?

Does that possibly include— the assassination—

Jackie cuts himself off. He cannot afford to get his hopes up when all he has are a few flimsy theories.

(For a second, Ran’s face flashes in his mind. How wide and yet calculated his eyes seemed in the pit months ago when Jackie had decided to spare him. How large and terrified they’d been as he crashed to the balcony floor only a few days ago.)

All he can assume right now is that Ran was forced to leave, for some reason.

Where can he get more info?

Isn’t Watson also missing?

I’m not sure how he’s involved, but. More research never hurts.

Jackie slides out of his bed, leaving the book on his nightstand beside the vase.

He pads softly down the hallway until he reaches the main area, and then down the opposite hallway, until he reaches Ran’s room.

Watson’s is across from it.

Jackie goes to open the door silently, but it’s locked. Bluebird isn’t here to open it for him, either.

Jackie pulls a small tool out of his pocket and makes short work of breaking and entering. Any assassin worth their salt knows how to pick a lock.

Once he’s inside, he gazes around the room. There’s nothing all that suspicious about it— books and writing seems to fill the room in an organized chaos.

Jackie sifts through the piles, but nothing is of use to him. It’s mostly biology textbooks and essays on fossil fuel radiation. Those things have nothing to do with each other and even less to do with Jackie.

The General puts his hands on his hips (which hurts one a little) and puffs out an angry breath.

“If I was a suspicious old man,” Jackie says to himself, gazing up at the ceiling. There’s hooks up there, the kind that are often used to suspend things. “Where would I hide info that might explain my disappearance?”

Jackie glances at the back wall, struck by inspiration.

He stalks toward it, rapping on the wooden boards. Nothing.

He inches to the right and repeats the action. Nothing again.

Jackie takes a full step to the right and knocks a third time. There’s a faint, almost unnoticeable echo.

“Bingo,” Jackie whispers, grinning.

He uses his pocket knife to wrench the board of wood out of the wall and access the crack behind it. It’s very narrow, and Jackie can barely squeeze his fingers into it and pull out the contents.

A few objects scatter on the floor.

The first two are keys. Jackie holds them up to his eye and deduces that they’re exactly the same. It’s not a stretch to assume they’re backup copies for another key. Not entirely odd.

The other is a folded up piece of paper. Jackie unfolds it and nearly flinches from how hard his heart drops.

There’s a map of Outskirts. Certain parts of the mine area are marked off with pen. Parts that Jackie recognizes— parts where children had disappeared.

There’s a last mark Jackie doesn’t recognize, but matching with info in his head he’s able to conclude quickly that it’s a warehouse.

In fact, the very warehouse down by Brackett Inn that Jackie had learned about on Friday.

His head is spinning. Watson knows— Watson knows about the disappearances. He was clearly tracking, or recording, then as well.

And there’s a disappearance Jackie doesn’t even know about as well.

Was Watson taken out? For his info? Or was he kidnapped just like these children?

How had the perpetrator known about Watson’s research and not Jackie’s?

The General’s head spins. Furthermore, only Ran and him should be aware of the warehouse— did Ran go there? Was he kidnapped, as well? Were both of them being held as hostages?

The scientist had mentioned that someone interrogated them on behalf of the King. Was the King behind this, or…

Maybe Watson lied about being on behalf of the King? And he managed to skirt by just by being friends with Porkius?

Why would Watson lie, though? Unless.

Jackie flips the paper over and spots the note on the back.

‘12 and base.’

Twelve disappearances and the warehouse.

“Watson isn’t tracking disappearances,” Jackie realizes, his heart rate rising. “He’s behind the disappearances.”

Jackie spins in a circle. Half of the books in this room are about fossil fuels.

Also known as Phobium.

Too much is adding up for it to be coincidental.

And if Ran and Watson disappeared around the same time, Jackie realizes, Ran has been kidnapped just like those kids.

Jackie grits his teeth and exits the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

He storms toward the stairs that go in the direction of his garage.

Get ready, Mike. We’ve gotta go save that dumbass.

So I can smack him before anyone else does.

Chapter Text

Waking up tied to a medical bed against your will is probably one of the worst ways you can possibly wake up.

Waking up tied to a medical bed, with a bright light in your face, and a headache the size of a moon, is somehow even worse.

Ran flinches away from the source of the light, his head absolutely pounding, as tiny stabs go through his brain. Someone in the background grunts and the light dims a minuscule amount.

Ran’s eyes slowly adjust to the world around him. Things begin to come into focus, though the sharp rings in his head distract him.

The room he’s in has white walls. That’s the first thing he notices.

A minute or two later, Ran sees odd devices are placed around the room, shiny and silver and mechanical. They remind him of his arm.

A second after that, Ran realizes his arm is missing.

That is enough to make him begin to panic. That is enough to make him start to writhe on the table, which is enough to make the other person in the room start shouting.

The restraints on his legs are tightened, and fragile carts are pushed away from where Ran could knock them over. He breathes heavily, attempting to catch whoever the other person in the room is with his eyes. But he can’t lift his head. Despite it being unrestrained, the pain just makes it too heavy. His neck is far too sore.

“Where am I?” Ran asks aloud, and Ender, his voice sounds and feels horrible. Scratchy, like sandpaper, and his tongue is like a foreign body in his mouth.

His heart skips a beat, and he adds, “Where is the General?”

There’s a sigh in response, but Ran still can’t see anyone. He squares his shoulders, trying to roll off the table.

“Where is the General?” Ran repeats, louder and angrier.

A head appears at the foot of his bed, frowning.

Watson.

Ran’s spines begin to smooth down in relief.

“For the fiftieth time,” Watson says, sounding rather annoyed. “He’s not here.”

“… Alright,” Ran releases a breath, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. Jackie’s face flashes in his mind again. The last time he’d seen Jackie, he’d hurt him. It makes sense he wouldn’t be with him.

After a moment, Ran remembers he has no idea where he is.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in my lab,” Watson mutters in a practiced voice. “Fucking hell, I hate concussions. You’re lucky I have medical supplies out here.”

Ran winces, another spike of pain going through his head. Well, that explains those at least.

Wait, concussion?

Nightmare, what had he been doing last?

“I suspect you’re fully awake this time,” Watson says. Ran can hear that he’s on the side of the room, clicking away at a machine. Possibly a computer of some kind. “Since you haven’t thrashed like that before.”

“Okay,” Ran says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. His head hurts like hell. He doesn’t know where he is.

Wait. Where is he?

“You’re in my lab,” Watson groans. Ran must’ve spoken aloud. “And I treated your concussion. I think I’ll put you downstairs in a moment. And no,” he shoots Ran an annoyed look when he spots him opening his mouth. “General Brackett isn’t coming.”

Hm. Maybe he’s asked that one before.

“How long have I been here?”

Watson rubs his temple. “For several incredibly annoying hours.”

Ran feels like maybe that was a jab at him. He attempts to scour the room with his eyes, but stops when he spots his left shoulder, a spike of shock running through him.

“Where’s my arm?!”

Watson shrugs. “Removed it during the medical process. Maybe I’ll give it back in the mines.”

Ran may trust Watson, but that idea makes his skin crawl. His arm is his. He built it himself, and all his (metaphorical) blood, sweat, and tears went into that thing. The idea of being without it, and worse, it being handled by someone else, unnerves him.

“I’d like my arm back now,” Ran tries to make his voice lilt dangerously, but it comes out squeaky. His throat is still messed up for some reason.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it’s possibly because he’s been knocked out for hours straight.

Watson appears at the side of Ran’s bed again, this time holding a robotic prosthetic. Ran reaches for it weakly with his right arm, but Watson ignores this and simply attaches it himself, adjusting it and flipping small inner switches.

Ran is a little perturbed that Watson apparently already knows the ins and outs of his arm, even if they are friends. But he remains silent as Watson unfastens the table restraints and then offers an arm for Ran to lean on as he slowly slides out of bed.

His head hurts, but he glances around the lab with interest as he supports himself against Watson. Together, they begin to limp towards the door.

“Does the King know about this place?” Ran asks, his instincts to dig for information resurfacing. Porkius and Watson seem to be very close— it wouldn’t surprise him if the pig king had offered up funding for a place like this.

“What?” Watson laughs. “No, nobody does. This is my place, I built it.”

Ran’s ears flick in surprise. “By yourself?”

Watson preens at the impressed sound of Ran’s voice. “Some of the machines were pre-built, but yes, I built the lab myself. It’s a bit of a secret.”

They hobble down a mostly unfurnished tunnel. Ran twists his head back and forth, looking for any possible environmental clues about what’s happened, but there’s only some other entrances to rooms he quickly glances in before they come to a large, sealed, circular door.

That’s odd, Ran thinks to himself, and Watson punches a button on the side of the door, causing the lock in the middle to twist and the two halves to slide open with a hiss.

“Well, we’re here,” Watson says unceremoniously, before siding Ran off of his shoulder and leading him through the door. Ran reaches his arms out to catch and steady himself against the wall.

He turns around to say something else to Watson, but the door is already sealing shut again.

“Wait—“ Ran starts, but the clang of the lock echoes into the tunnel around him.

Ran frowns.

He didn’t peg Watson as the type to make him walk the rest of the way himself.

And also lock the door behind him.

…Now that Ran’s thinking about it, Watson hadn’t been acting very friendly towards him at all.

Why could that be?

Is it possible Watson learned about his assassination attempt towards Jackie and is upset with him because of it? No, of course not. If Watson has always known about the assassination, he’s been on Ran’s side about it. (Ran… thinks, anyway; Watson had always given him odd advice but Ran suspected, from how mischievous he acted, that Watson knew something he didn’t say ).

He’s probably just annoyed with Ran taking up space in his lab; Watson has made it clear to him in the past that he prefers to work by himself. And, he’d also mentioned Ran has been here for a while, annoying him. That’s likely to put him in a bad mood as well.

Watson had at least given him a clean sleeveless sweater, which was thoughtful of him.

Something about all of this gives Ran a very bad feeling, though, although he’s not exactly sure what.

Glancing around, Ran realizes that he’s in a rock tunnel, and his spines prick up in fear, as if he can feel the darkness of the enclosed room squeeze his body.

He’s underground. Trapped underground.

He doesn’t like that at all.

Ran starts to awkwardly shuffle on his weak legs down the tunnel, faster, hoping to everything that there’s an exit somewhere. Anything so he’s not trapped in one spot. His brain still feels like it’s wrapped in pulled wool, and his legs feel cold and like they’re being yanked into the ground apart from him.

Ran goes faster.

It occurs to him that the floor has been sloping downward, and before he can catch himself, he pitches forward and crashes into the ground.

Ran hisses to himself in quiet pain, curling up on himself as the chatter that had steadily been growing closer abruptly hushes.

Wait. Chatter?

Ran peels himself up off the floor, and looks up.

Surrounding him are three young girls who look just as confused to see Ran as Ran is to see them.

He scoots backward, as much as he can on the rock floor, and squints at them, fearful. He has no clue what’s going on, but his brain starts talking in multiple layers at once to try to figure it out.

Missing children, Ran thinks to himself. Are they here? Under the earth? Under Watson’s lab?

The closest girl sticks out a single claw and pokes him with it.

Ran squawks and swats her hand away defensively.

He has, at some point, reached the conclusion that he is currently incredibly loopy. Even these little girls could potentially be a threat to him in this state.

“Are you alright in the head?” asks the brave girl, loudly and slowly with exaggerated enunciation, pursing her lips into a facial expression that can only be called judging. “Do you speak English?”

“Back off… annoying girl,” Ran wheezes, trying to get into a more defensible position.

The girl’s head tilts. Her strawberry blonde pigtails bounce.

Ran can’t help but think she looks a little bit familiar.

The blonde girl gestures for the other two to come closer, and Ran puffs up in response. The second girl, a brunette with pointy ears on the top of her head, reaches out to poke at Ran’s earrings. The third girl, who looks to have red rock growing in her skin, tugs on one.

Ran shoves himself onto his knees, making himself as tall as the children, and pushes them away. “Personal space,” he snaps.

The stony girl motions to the other two with her hands. Ran can’t really get anything from the motions, but the other two girls watch thoughtfully. Perhaps she’s a leader of sorts?

“Why is Watson bringing full ass adults down here?” asks the blonde girl. Two horns protrude from the top of her head. Ran is still squinting at her, hard. He could swear he’s seen her somewhere before.

“I dunno, Clem,” shrugs the girl with the pointy ears. She begins to worry her lip under her teeth. “Maybe this guy is supposed to help us. Or maybe he’s a really tall child.”

“Hey!” Clem shouts, and she kicks Ran in the knee. He winces, and wobbles, but manages to stay upright. “Are you a really tall child?!”

Ran has such a bad headache right now that it takes him a second to process her question; and then another second to come up with a sufficient answer.

“I’m eighteen,” he says. He has no idea if that will satisfy.

Clem squints at him. “Huh. I guess we should put him to work.”

The stone-girl gets Clem’s attention again, pointing to Ran and then down the hall.

“Oh!” the catlike girl exclaims, clapping her hands together. “He might reach the ceiling in the round room!”

Clem grins. “Why didn’t you fucking say so, aye?”

The three girls pull Ran to his feet and start pushing and pulling him further down the hall, to what must be a room. Ran doesn’t get to see it, though, because the movement and the information and the overwhelmingness of the girls gets to his head and instead of doing anything useful, he faints.

——

Ran blearily comes to with several small faces leaning over him. That sets off alarm bells in his mind.

Firstly because his personal space is being invaded, and secondly, because… Children. The missing children. He’s found the missing children.

Oh, wait, they’re speaking.

“Natalie, I think he fucking died.”

“No he didn’t! No he didn’t! I can hear breathing!”

“Natalie, shush— he’s opening his eyes!”

Ran sits up and scrambles backwards. He looks around the room— upsettingly, it’s another enclosed space, and Ran’s chest tightens. The room is can-shaped, and to further the can imagery it’s walled with some sort of metal or tin. Other then that it’s empty.

The little blonde girl who had talked to him at first frowns at him. Her eyes seem to scan him in a way that gives Ran the distinct impression she’s sizing him up.

Not that he’s frightened of a ten-year-old.

“Are you scared? That’s alright, you know. Everyone down here is scared.”

Ran stares at her, trying to run her strawberry-blonde hair through every database in his mind. “You’re Clementine Loo,” he says aloud, finally placing her face.

Clem scoffs. “The one and only! But hey, what’s your deal, huh? Who are you? Why’re you here?”

Ran studies the room. It’s rock, but smoothed down and hollowed out into a circular, can-like shape. On the ceiling there’s an air vent from which light filters in, and two doorways on opposite sides of the room lead off into tunnels.

Ran shudders. “R— Ran. I don’t know why I’m here.”

As soon as he says it, it sounds wrong.

He must be here for a reason, surely. Why can’t he remember it?

Ran may not have photographic memory, but he’s never had problems remembering events before. The idea of it immediately makes his lungs feel heavier. Imagine how vulnerable he would be if he couldn’t even remember things that happened to him!

He must be down here with Watson for some reason. Watson was healing him from something… maybe he got injured? But by who, and when?

Perhaps Watson was helping him find the missing children. That would explain why some of them are here now, and look relatively safe.

But the holes in Ran’s memory unsettle him to no end.

“Can I ask—“

“No,” Clem rolls her eyes. “General What’s-his-face isn’t here! You ask annoying questions in your sleep a lot, you know.”

Ran grimaces. That’s… embarrassing. Last he could remember, Jackie had turned away from him on the balcony outside a party, scorned and forever betrayed.

It’s unlikely he’ll ever speak to him again.

Ran cranes his neck to look around at the room again, deciding not to think about it.

“Who all is here?”

“Well, obviously I’m Clementine,” Clem preens, pointing at herself. “The cat is Natalie, and the living gemstone is Ruby.” Ruby and Natalie both shyly wave at Ran. “Everyone else is down in the mine.”

“Everyone else,” Ran repeats, and he pulls himself to his feet, wobbling. “Can I meet them?”

Ruby shrugs.

Natalie’s ears tilt a little as she taps her chin. “Well, we’re heading down that way anyway…”

The three of them turn towards one of the two identical doorways, marching off into the tunnel.

Ran slowly follows after them. The tunnel is narrow enough that Ran can hold his arms out on either side and steady himself against the wall as he walks down. It gets harder to see as they go, and Ran has to feel the way carefully with his feet.

Just ahead of him is Clementine. She keeps turning to keep her eyes on him, frowning. Her long ears are pointy, and her blonde pigtails are frizzy. Her eyes are a vibrant green.

“How do you know me, anyway?” Clem asks. Her tail twitches.

Ran’s legs shake a little as he steadies himself against the downward train of the floor. “Your— your sister. She’s looking for you.”

Clem’s eyes widen and she turns away.

“Obviously,” she says, but her voice sounds suddenly fragile. Ran catches the smile she’s desperately trying to hide. “She couldn’t last a day without me.”

The walls begin to widen and turn away from Ran’s hands quite suddenly, and the lighting brightens. They’ve walked into a mineshaft.

Ran turns around to study it. Lanterns hang from the wooden supports, but the tunnel feels dusty, dirty, and dreary.

A pattering sound picks up down the left side of the tunnel, and Ran turns to see a small pigman running down the shaft towards them. He skids to a stop, and regards Ran with huge, confused eyes.

“This is Ran,” Clementine announces loudly to the pigman. “He just appeared here. I reckon he’s another addition.”

“Another?” The pig scrunches up his nose.

“Yeah, been awhile, huh?” Natalie shrugs.

Ran is completely oblivious to the meanings of this conversation. He frowns, his feet firmly planted in the ground, as he tries to figure it out.

They’re surprised about another addition— him— because there hasn’t been one for a while… that’s right. The most recently kidnapped child, Clementine, had been taken more than two months ago. That was a large break, considering most of the children had gone missing within a week or two of each other.

“The perpetrator must be done, then,” Jackie had said, tapping his pencil against the floor. “There’s been no more kidnappings since then.”

“Are you sure?” Ran had asked. “What do you think is the reason?”

Jackie shrugged, his face pinched in frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe they found what they were looking for.”

Ran sighs.

“Hey!” Clementine snaps. “Don’t look so gloomy! Come take up a pickaxe and help us out, will you?”

Ran looks down at Clementine. She’s holding out a pick made of shiny black material. It’s not strengthened through any enchanting table, but it’s still incredibly durable. Ran lifts it from her hands, more out of a habit than any real incentive to begin… whatever it is they’re doing.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re mining, dipshit,” Clem grabs him by the metal arm and starts pulling him down the left end of the tunnel. The other three follow after, whispering to each other. “This is a mine, after all.”

“Right.”

Ran is puzzled. Why are they mining? Do they have nothing else to do?

God, his head still hurts. And his memory is still… fuzzy.

His thoughts… well, they’re there, at least. That’s something. They’re muddled, though, as if looking into a pond of muddy water and trying to see the fish at the bottom.

Ran huffs in frustration.

He almost doesn’t notice as the mine shaft widens out, and begins to smell distinctly more like something else. He doesn’t know what, but…. definitely something odd.

The sound of chattering voices grows louder and Ran looks down to a room full of children. Lots of children. Loud, annoying children.

Two of them begin excitedly flapping their wings at the sight of him, and another child, decidedly fluffier, begins to puff up in apparent fright. More of them attempt to speak to him, and one child with tall horns stands in the corner covering their eyes in possible dismay.

He takes a breath. He can do this.

Carefully, he counts them in his head. He has to start over once or twice, because his head hurts, and because a few of them are moving around a lot.

There’s twelve.

That’s… all of them, Ran realizes. His shoulders relax in some kind of blissful relief. This is every missing kid. I’ve found them. They’re alive.

The idea that he’s solved it, he’s found the children, he’s— he’s completed the mission. It fills him up like warm cider. It almost feels as if sunlight is shining on his face, despite the layers of rock overhead.

Jackie would be so proud.

Jackie wouldn’t be satisfied yet, though, Ran realizes sharply. Jackie wouldn’t be content until every child was safe in their own home, and he knew the reasoning for the disappearances so he could stop it from ever happening again.

Ran turns in a circle, the pick still weighing awkwardly in his hands. Around him, multiple children pry into the walls with their pickaxes, occasionally studying a rock they pull out before tossing it aside.

“So how’d you end up here anyway?” Ran asks, hoping that he’s subtle.

Clementine turns from her work and glares at him like he’s stupid. On the floor, the child with tall horns and bandaged eyes swivels their head in his direction, also radiating displeasure.

“Watson brought us down here,” Clem says, in a very condescending voice.

“I figure that,” Ran answers back just as scathingly. He doesn’t take too well to this girl’s attitude. She’s like, ten or something. Who does she think she is? “I was wondering for what reason. Does he need you for phobium?”

“‘Course not,” answers one of the avians— a human-looking one with small yellow wings, and a missing arm. Ran almost feels endeared until he spots the child’s sneer. “What are you, stupid or somethin’? You can get phobium much easier from literally any store, or from adult miners. Nobody would steal us for that.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ran answers defensively. Although… he might have known that back when he was studying stuff with Jackie. His head hurts and he can’t be trusted to make every possible connection at the moment. How was he to know stealing the children for gains was impractical and unlikely? It’s not like he’s seasoned in the child-stealing market.

Ran turns in a slow circle. “Why have you work in here at all, then? Why not just return you to your parents once he found you?”

He’s mostly thinking aloud, here. He doesn’t expect any of these kids to have a good insight into an adult’s thought process.

The piglin boy snorts and overturns some dirt with his small shovel before he mutters to himself. “Working for no reason at all. Doesn’t even use the stuff we mine.”

And that is strange. Ran frowns, trying to puzzle this information. If Watson doesn’t have the kids here to gain phobium, and he doesn’t even use the phobium that they mine, why are they here? Just to have something to do? Why waste so much energy?

“Well, why would you expect a kidnapper to return the kidnapped ones home?” Clementine asks as she yanks a particularly difficult ore out of the wall. She sounds half annoyed and half confused. “That doesn’t even make any sense!”

There are murmurs of agreement from the other children, who have quieted down in the past couple of minutes and seem to have mostly accepted Ran as one of their ranks.

Ran turns that over in his head. His tail brushes through a pile of rock dust on the floor as he thinks, spines raising.

“Wait a moment,” Ran asks, slowly and clearly. “Are you saying Watson was the one who kidnapped you?”

Incredulous looks are exchanged by everyone else in the room. Ran would feel offended if he wasn’t too busy being horrified at this new information.

Watson took the children?

But— no. Why would he do that?

There’s no way Watson— Ran’s friend— there’s no way he’d kidnap children. He’s not a kidnapper. He’s not a bad guy at all, he’s always been nice to Ran…

Ran sinks to his knees, his breathing becoming erratic.

It’s just not… It’s just not possible.

How?

Why?

Is he dreaming? Maybe he’s dreaming. He’s never really dreamed before, but if he could, Ran thinks this is how it would feel— muddled, fuzzy, his body all floaty…

“Pull yourself together,” says a new voice above him, neither kind nor harsh. It’s a simple request, and although Ran isn’t sure he follows through with it exactly, he focuses in on the child standing over him.

It’s the one with the tall horns and bandaged eyes. They have hands on both his shoulders (with Ran on his knees, they’re at eye level) and their mouth is turned down in disapproval.

Ran blinks blearily, and one ear flicks as he begins to process the sounds around him again. He tries once more, to the best of his ability, to ‘pull himself together’.

The horned child tilts their head. Their hair is shoulder-length and ratty, and the color of coal. Their skin seems pale as well, although it’s hard to tell with so much of their face wrapped in bandages.

“You have a head injury,” they say, in that same flat voice. “How did you get here?”

Ran draws in a shuddering breath, trying once again to recall. Did he follow Watson down here? Did he agree to help with an experiment in the upstairs lab or something?

“You don’t remember,” the horned child hums, then steps away. Clementine comes up beside them, warily watching Ran.

“What’s that mean, huh, Pyro? Is he a bad guy? He doesn’t look like one. I reckon he’s another of us.”

“I agree,” the bandaged child— Pyro?— says to her. “He is another of us. But he’s also… different.”

“Different how?” asks the piglin in the corner, his eyes wide.

Everyone in the room leans in to hear what Pyro says.

Pyro doesn’t turn their head to look, but after a second, they point down the mineshaft in the direction of the circular room.

“He’s tall enough to reach the air vent.”

There’s a pause, and then, the room full of children bursts into excitement and chatter as they realize this.

Ruby pulls Ran to his feet and smiles at him, but he’s too muddled to say anything in thanks.

One of the girls— a canary— is flapping her wings excitedly, leading the way down the mineshaft to the round room. The other avian follows closely behind her (although he shoots Ran a suspicious glance).

Ran feels himself pushed down the tunnel by Clementine, behind him, and figures he might as well just go along with all of this then.

He’s in too much shock to do anything useful, after all.

Twelve kids force themselves into the circular room. It’s not exactly a squeeze or anything, but the amount of small bodies in an enclosed space makes Ran unreasonably perturbed. His tail twitches in agitation.

Clementine shouts orders at Ran— twist this, place that— but just to prove he’s not some ten year old’s dog, Ran reaches up and sticks his claws into the air vent by himself.

It’s not surprising that he can reach the ceiling of the room. On the Overworld, that’s pretty common for him (and it’s great). What is surprising is the grins on everyone’s faces as soon as he does.

“So— so—“ starts the red, fluffier creature, pointing to her own claws. “Can you— twist it? Twist the nail and open the vent?”

Ran does. Twist the nail and open the vent, that is. His head has been clearing for a while now, and, at the moment, he has enough brainpower to recognize that he is currently acting as these children’s over-glorified screwdriver.

For one moment, he’s incredibly offended by that, but the reality of the situation sinks in a second later to stop him.

These children have been trapped down here for months. Acting like a screwdriver is the least he can do.

(Especially after everything he’s failed at recently.)

The vent cover falls to the ground with a clatter. Excited squeals erupt around him, and the canary girl begins flapping her wings so fast Ran worries she’ll sprain something. Then something else happens.

Clementine, to her credit, attempts to warn Ran of what she’s about to do by shouting “heads up!”

But, really, she had just heard Pyro point out only minutes ago that Ran had suffered a head injury. So why she chooses to do what she does next is anybody’s guess. Possibly she even surprises herself; who knows what goes on in her head.

Clementine leaps onto Ran’s shoulders (which is quite an impressive jump in terms of height) and clambers into a standing position fairly quickly. It’s difficult to balance because Ran has no idea what’s going on, but he holds himself as still as he can whilst her claws dig into his back.

Clementine then attempts to shove herself into the air vent.

“Shit,” she curses aloud (again, who does this girl think she is?). “The entrance bit is too small.”

Ran carefully tilts his head upward, trying not to jostle the child on his back, and looks at the vent.

Clementine is correct— although the vent itself appears roomy, the entrance filter part which is connected to their room is much too small for any of them to fit through.

Ran thinks that if he could pull that bit out (and that’s a big if), the rest of the vent would be wide enough for the children to escape without him. Of course, he’d have to make a ladder for them or something.

He files that away in his head as a last resort option and helps Clementine to the floor.

“So…” he begins, trying to word it delicately. “Watson kidnapped you? Are you sure?”

“Pretty darn sure,” says the avian child. They glare at him. “Think we’d know.”

“Right, right, I’m not…” Ran shifts, and a few of the other children crowd around him, trying to inspect the air vent for themselves. He ignores their comments.

“I just… he just keeps you down here? And doesn’t even do anything with you?”

It’s simply not making sense to Ran. Surely there must be a reason he has the kids here. Watson is such a reasonable man— or at least, Ran had thought so…

It doesn’t feel like he’s the type to just… kidnap multiple children for the apparent fun of it.

Ruby taps him on the leg and then points to the other doorway out of the round room— the one that leads back to Watson’s lab. Ran follows her gaze, but doesn’t understand.

“Oh, Ruby’s right,” says the piglin boy. He puffs air out of his snout, looking down that way as well. “There’s also the glass room.”

“The glass room?” Ran echoes. The spines on his back begin to rise, in tandem with the way the other children in the room fall silent as they hear this.

That gives him a… very bad feeling.

“That’s the room we get called up to be looked at,” the fluffy red one says, wrinkling up their snout.

Ran glances around at each kid’s face. They’re all grimacing or shifting uncomfortably. His only solace is the fact that at least none of them seem scared.

“Looked at… how?” He asks. His voice might be betraying some of his anger, but he tries to tamp down on it. These children— they don’t deserve this. Whatever’s going on with them, in any way, they don’t deserve it.

And the longer he entertains the thought that he might know who is behind it, the more he finds himself feeling oddly… violent.

“With a big scanny scanner machine. Who cares,” Clementine grumbles. “Can we move on?”

Ran releases his breath.

“Sure.”

——

Time ticks on endlessly in the mineshaft, and Ran is slowly forced to come to terms with the fact that he’s been kidnapped.

There’s good news, too, of course. Ran is being nothing if not optimistic about this current situation.

For instance; it is good that he now knows where the missing children are, and that all of them seem to be alive and unharmed.

But, sometimes, good news can be outweighed by the bad news. Even the most good news you’ve ever gotten in your life, something you’ve wanted for ages— in this case, the discovery and safety of twelve certain children— can be overshadowed by some unexpected terrible news.

Which, in this case, would be the fact that Ran is now also kidnapped, and suffering the after-effects of a concussion, and separated from Jackie, and no one knows where he is.

Being optimistic can be hard in situations like that.

“Can we play kick the can?”

Ran turns and looks downward at Root, who is lying on the floor with his arms spread out. Root’s squid-shaped head is looking at the ceiling with contempt. Clearly, he’s bored.

Boreal, in response, fluffs up her red mane in annoyance. “We played kick the can yesterday!”

“No,” says Marke’s voice, muffled by the rock between them. He shuffles his hooves, crunching in gravel. “We played freeze tag yesterday.”

“We played freeze tag and kick the can, you dumbasses,” Clementine snaps from her position hanging from a support beam. She’d climbed up there to see if she could ‘find anything interesting’, but then she got stuck, and is currently pretending she doesn’t need any help to get down. Ran is perfectly content to leave her there until she admits defeat. Two can play that game.

“Well, I want to play something!” Root shouts, and then bursts into a coughing fit. Everyone else winces.

Root’s throat and breathing have been terrible the whole time he’s been down here, according to everyone. It’s something about how dry the air is. Ran just prays the kid doesn’t choke to death before he can get him to fresh air.

Natalie groans, dropping her pickaxe. (Most of the kids prefer to mine, because it’s something more interesting to do than sitting around, but it’s still work.) Her cat ears flatten against her head.

“Does Ran have a new game for us to play? It won’t be time for the red-light-green-light Olympics until the day after tomorrow.”

Everyone turns to look at Ran, who almost drops his pickaxe. Despite how long he’s been in the Overworld, it’s still very strange to have multiple eyes on him.

“I don’t know any games,” he says. Then, thinking himself rather intelligent, he adds, “We could try escaping, though.”

No one seems to find this statement particularly inspiring or even amusing.

“We did try that once,” says Zecori, looking much older than she is as she rubs her eyes. She’s actually the youngest, at nine years old, and her curly hair is matted— she’s been unable to brush it in months.

“We don’t need you to do things,” adds Zenith. They scrunch up their nose and draw their yellow wings in closer. Next to them, Abbey leans into the warmth.

Ruby nods in agreement, holding her pickaxe up to her chest.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you,” Ran sighs. He’s spent a maximum of five hours with these kids and they’re already taking the life out of him. “I just meant maybe we could work on it. Don’t you want out of here?”

“I want out of here!” says Marke from the corner. He comes around, into view, stomping his little pig hooves. “I would like that, yes!”

The other children fall into an apprehensive silence. Ran realized they’re looking to him, expecting.

He takes a deep breath. He needs to rely on his instincts, his training. He needs to go into business mode.

“Alright,” Ran starts in a commanding voice, trying to mimic the way Jackie usually speaks to the recruits. Of course, the recruits are a lot older— most of them are young adults or teenagers— but the same principles should apply, no?

“Alright! There’s a mineshaft here. Both directions lead to a dead end that gets mined out for phobium. In the middle, there’s an entryway that leads to the circle-room, and upwards from that room is the entrance to the lab. The door seals itself shut and locks from the other side.”

Ran’s spines flutter a little, and he realizes he’s been standing up straighter unconsciously.

“Is that right, so far?”

The children nod, all too entranced by his no-nonsense tone to say anything.

“Good. When does the door open?”

Clementine clicks her tongue, thinking. “Twice a day when food gets brought in, and anytime someone needs to be taken to the glass room.”

Ran falters, surprised. “Food? What kind of food?”

Of course, it seems obvious now that Watson has to be feeding these kids something. Or else they would have starved ages ago.

“Terrible food,” Clementine sniffs.

Under her, Abbey flutters and points to the child next to her. “It made Zenith really sick!”

Zenith rolls their eyes. But they do have a distinctly uncomfortable look that confirms the statement.

“There’s something in it, for sure.” murmurs Pyro from behind Ran. He nearly leaps out of his skin, turning to see the ashy-looking child pressing their fingers into the bandages on their eyes. “I stopped eating it once and my head pain went away.”

He’s poisoning the food, Ran guesses immediately, but after a moment, dismisses the idea. It doesn’t really make sense— all the children are still here, and he’s still feeding them. There are much easier ways to kill someone. Ran thinks he would know.

Suppose he’s giving them some other substance that irritates them in their food? But almost infinite supplements and nutrients can have strangely adverse effects on humans and mammals, even ones considered ‘healthy’.

Biology has never been Ran’s strong suit and he doesn’t think it ever will be.

Eventually, Ran has to disregard the train of thought entirely because he’s getting nowhere with those theories. But he does make a mental note to avoid eating the food when it’s sent down.

“We tried to rush out one time when food got sent out, but Watson was standing out there so we just. Didn’t,” Angel says mournfully, staring at her fingernails.

“Alright, so the entryway is guarded,” Ran muses. “My first idea would be a distraction, but Watson is likely much too smart for that. Is there anything that could distract him?”

He almost feels in his element, again. On a mission. The odds are stacked against him, sure, but—

Well, anything would be easier than assassinating Jackie Brackett.

“He likes… sciencey things?” Yasin offers.

“And weird things,” adds Angel.

Ran snacks his fist into his hand in excitement as an idea occurs to him.

“I, believe it or not, am both weird and sciencey,” Ran explains, a grin growing on his face. “The distraction can be me.”

He nods sharply, and then promptly regrets it as he feels a wave of nausea.

Head injuries. So annoying.

——

Ruby flicks her tail to the side, nervous as she watches the door. She’s quiet, and hard to spot against the rock wall when it’s dark, which are points in her favor.

Ran is crouched in the hallway much further down, eyes squinting to try to diminish their green glow. Behind him, Clementine drums a nervous beat into his shoulder blades with her fingers. Her tail is curled loosely around one of Ran’s ankles, which he’s graciously pretending not to notice.

(Usually, having his personal space invaded makes him incredibly annoyed. Fortunately Clementine is already annoying enough that her presence doesn’t bother him so much. At least, that’s the running theory.)

“How does it look, Ruby?” Ran whispers. He’s not sure his whispering is loud enough for her to hear, but one of her ears twitches, and she sends him a small thumbs up without turning around. Her tiny horns are almost pushed against the wall in her position against it.

Clementine’s drumming starts to speed up, and a second later, Ran hears a sound in the distance.

The sealed door whirrs open, and a cart rolls in, its natural momentum carrying it down the decline until it passes Ruby. The wheels squeak as they grow closer, and Clementine shoves Ran’s back, hissing “Go!”

Ran springs to his feet and jogs up the tunnel past the cart (which definitely has food, but he doesn’t take the time to examine it more closely) and past Ruby, who gives him a little nod.

“Watson!” Ran shouts, lunging to shove his arm through the door. The mechanical one, in case the door continues to close.

Mercifully, it stops. tired face appears in the crack, grey eyes cloudy.

“What do you want, Ran?” Watson asks. He sounds resigned to this nonsense already.

“I—“ Ran says, and quickly pulls the lie he’d come up with earlier. “I have a question. About my biology.”

Watson’s face morphs out of the annoyance, his eyebrows raising as he looks Ran up and down. His expression stays guarded, however. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you see me, don’t you?” Ran asks stuffily. “I’m supposed to be an enderman, but. It’s a little obvious, huh?”

He uses his non-stuck hand to gesture to all of himself. Watson follows this movement, jutting out his chin a little as he seems to consider the notion.

“You see, I’m a bit odd. And since I know you have a lab up there—“ Ran juts his thumb in that direction, “I just don’t want to pass up this opportunity to get some answers, right?”

“Huh,” Watson murmurs, and he shifts to lean against the door. Ran’s tail twitches in anticipation. He knows he’s got him.

“You understand you wouldn’t be allowed to go free, right?” Watson asks. “And you’d be restrained.”

Ran briefly considers playing the clueless card (maybe Watson would be more lenient with him if he acts like he doesn’t understand where he is or that Watson is kidnapping people?), but decides not to, figuring that it would be too obvious.

“I understand. I just… need to know this.”

The best lies are the ones which are half truths.

Watson purses his lips, and then stands up straight. Ran’s ears prick upwards.

“Okay. We can do that. But,” Watson interrupts Ran’s joy. “We’re waiting until tomorrow.”

Shoot. Ran’s spines flatten down again. Evidently Watson is suspicious of him, and wants to disallow him from an instant reward.

That’s okay, Ran reasons to himself. It means way more time to plan with the children.

“See you tomorrow then,” Ran nods after a moment of thinking.

Watson squints at him, then finally moves to push the door button so they can both leave.

“…Tomorrow, then.”

——

Ran is lying on the floor.

Lying on the floor is not really something endermen do, typically. Most of them conserve energy by slowing down and standing in place, so they don’t need to exactly sleep. Additionally, they do not need to lay down.

Although they can, it’s a vulnerable position to be in. So most do not.

But Ran already had a reputation of being odd, and he couldn’t redirect his core energy the way endermen typically could, so he sometimes let himself lay on the floor of his cell in Terminus.

It felt oddly relaxing on his spine, sometimes.

So now he returns to this habit— lying on the floor with his arms spread out at either side.

Clementine walks into his field of vision and leans over him, pressing her lips together in an expression that screams of judgment.

“What,” Ran grunts, because he’s very emotionally exhausted, and pressure is building up in his head again, and he does not exactly have the patience to deal with any little girls’ shenanigans.

“Are you going to sleep already? It’s only been sundown for a little while.”

Ran lets out a grumble of noise from the back of his throat, turning his head in the other direction. His cheek presses uncomfortably against the gravel under him. It’s not the most comfortable thing he’s ever laid on. But it’s also not the most uncomfortable.

“How do you know what time it is?”

“She always knows what time it is,” answers Marke as he scatters some gravel on the ground, crouching into a sitting position. “She’s weird like that.”

“Hm.”

Ran, turned away, can see Pyro leaned up against the wall on his right side. They are staring at their own hands blankly, the cloth that is normally wrapped around their head crumpled in their lap. Their tail is wrapped around their feet.

Ran’s head pounds. He wishes he knew if it was the injury, or the possible lack of oxygen, or some substance in the air causing this discomfort.

At the moment, he can only deal with it. You may find that in your life there are often things you must simply deal with, when there are no obvious solutions.

(But of course, you should always try your best to make things easier.)

“Pyro,” Ran asks, trying to keep his voice down for politeness. Of course, Pyro doesn’t look at him, but their ears twitch as they shift a little in his direction. “Are you related to Ruby? Both of you have pointy tails and horns.”

Across the room, Ruby pauses in her digging (she likes to dig holes) and turns in their direction curiously to listen.

“No, I’m not. None of us are related. Even if we look similar.”

Ran nods. His eyelids are starting to droop. Despite all the sleeping he’d done yesterday, he is still very drained. Sleeping in such an unfamiliar place is hard.

It’s less hard with all the children in here, though, quietly going about their business or talking to each other.

“You have a headache?” Pyro asks, pointing to their own head. Ran shifts his head up at the ceiling.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s from my injury or what.”

Further down the mineshaft, Ran can hear coughing from Zenith as Abbey attempts to help them into the alcove with her. Zenith’s wings are clipped, so Abbey usually pulls him up onto their roosts.

Pyro tilts their head, probably listening. Then they speak again, starling Ran.

“I get headaches a lot, too. The worst out of everyone here. Although most of us get headaches. Or got them, from growth pains.”

Huh, Ran thinks to himself. So it’s not just my injury, it’s also something that’s down here.

That’s… relatively concerning.

“Oh, yeah,” says Clementine out of nowhere from Ran’s other side, almost making him jump. “I remember when your horns were coming in, Pyro, and you were always crying and whining about how much it hurt.” She looks at Ran. “That’s how they lost their sight.”

Pyro winces. Ran turns to look at them, scanning their features with more horror than usual. Their large, twisting horns— had it really hurt that much to grow through the skull? And after it was done, they couldn’t see anymore?

“Did that happen… recently? Why?” Ran asks, something like sympathy flowing through him as he pictures Pyro trapped and alone down here, with no parents to help or explain to them what was going on.

“Yeah, pretty recently,” Clementine shrugs. “Puberty, innit?”

Clementine’s tail flicks around as she stares at Ran with some kind of burning intensity he can’t name.

And then, out of nowhere, she drops to the ground, and rests her head on his stomach. She pulls her legs closer as she curls up, practically cuddled into Ran’s side.

Ran just barely has time to think to himself, Awwwwww, before she says, “Look, you’re like a little pet dog I can lie on. I reckon you’re kind of my bitch.”

Ran remembers why he is not fond of this girl.

Her horns almost poke into Ran’s sweater, and again he finds himself thinking of Pyro.

Growing horns and losing your sight, all in one fell swoop… alone, too, with no one but a few other kids.

Clementine’s horns, at least, are smaller than Pyro’s, and look less like they’d hurt. They both have the tails with the point on the end, so maybe they’re members of a similar—

Ran sits up.

Clementine squeaks in annoyance (she’d been falling asleep), but Ran hardly notices, his head spinning.

Surely Clementine can’t be whatever Pyro is. Because Clementine’s elder sister is an avian. A paralyzed avian, who’s unable to perform normal avian duties, but an avian nonetheless.

Ran thinks back to the only picture he’d seen of the two sisters together. What were their similarities? What were their difference—

“Clementine,” Ran asks suddenly, horrified. Every spine on his back pricks up, the ones on the back of his neck raising in fear. “Clementine.”

“Mmm… what?”

“You didn’t have horns in your picture.”

She blinks, blearily at him, green eyes vividly confused.

Her eyes— her eyes, in the picture, Ran had distinctly remembered as blue.

He rapidly spins his head around, spotting each child and trying to remember any pictures Jackie had had of them.

Zecori— she’s the youngest, and has been here the longest, a small girl with dark hair. Tiny horns prick out of the top of her skull. Those had not been in her picture.

Angel, too, and Zenith, and especially Pyro— obviously had not had horns before being kidnapped.

But now they did.

Watson isn’t doing anything to them, really, Ran realizes, horror growing in his stomach.

It’s the phobium. The phobium down here does things to people and Watson—

—Is just letting it happen. But why?

Of course, he is. He talks about studying natural effects of biology all the time— how did I miss it?

Anger boils under Ran’s skin like hot water. Smoke rises from his mouth as his spines puff up to make him look larger.

Tomorrow he’ll get them out of here. Back to their families.

And, ideally, they’ll never have to be around phobium ever again.

——

“Good morning, Watson,” Ran says with a winning smile.

“Hello,” Watson responds flatly, and he twists both of Ran’s wrists behind his back as they go through the door.

As discreetly as he can, Ran drops a pebble from his foot into the grate of the door. It slides shut behind them.

Watson pushes him forward, up towards the lab, and Ran looks around at everything on the way up. He’s trying to file everything away in his mind— anything they’d need to know to escape, or afterward.

They pass a room filled with boards and papers, and Ran, for a second, is painfully reminded of Jackie and his obsession with note taking. In the next second, he tries his best to read anything that’s written, even from here— all he can make out is a rectangular sketch on paper.

They enter Watson’s lab, and Ran feels himself grow more anxious. Of course, this is his own plan; but being operated on would frighten anyone, probably.

Watson escorts him rather forcefully to the table bed in the middle, and once Ran is lying down he makes quick work of restraining him before moving away to get to his tools.

Ran’s job is to distract Watson for as long as possible, so Ruby and Clementine can force open the door downstairs and attempt to sneak past the lab.

They will bring everyone else with them, as quietly as they can, and once they make it to the front it should be easy to get through the lock that Ran had broken earlier. If the lock has been replaced, then Clementine will smash it with a rock.

Or at least, that’s their tentative plan. Ideally if anything goes wrong Ran will be able to rush out and help them. He’s supposed to join them anyway once Watson lets him out and then realizes what is happening.

For now, Ran needs to focus on being as interesting and distracting as possible.

“So,” he starts, “What’s the plan here?”

Watson presses some buttons in the back. Ran listens to the clicking, and the whirring of some other machine, and steady beeping from another one.

“Take some samples, firstly. Compare you to other endermen ones I have. See what’s different.”

Against his better judgment, Ran grows curious.

“You have endermen samples?”

Watson shrugs, but there’s pride in his voice when he says, “The few I was able to get my hands on. Endermen are hardly around anymore.”

Ran nods, although it’s a little difficult while lying on a table, and turns to gaze at the bright lights of the ceiling. His heart rate is rapidly rising from anxiety. He needs to quell it before he starts smoking.

Watson leans over him for a moment. “Don’t worry, sample-taking will be relatively painless. How do you feel, by the way? After your head injury.”

Ran still has no idea how he’d gotten hurt. His temples throb at the reminder. “...Fine,” he drips.

Watson, perhaps sensing it’s a sore subject, moves on quickly, heading to the back for some supplies.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.”

As soon as he feels his skin being plucked at, Ran’s eyes squeeze shut.

He can’t bear to look at whatever is going on, even as he feels tools scraping at his scales and twitches slightly in response.

For several minutes, Watson works quietly, and Ran lies frozen on the medical bench.

After a lot of internal debate about whether any of this is really worth the medical malpractice, Watson speaks again, almost causing Ran to flinch right into a sharp tool.

“So, any thoughts on your genetic inconsistency?”

Ran exhales, and from the way he hears Watson take a step back, he might have blown smoke. “Not very positive. But I don’t need to go into that.”

Watson chuckles, and Ran feels himself grow tense at the sound.

He likes it a lot less than he used to.

Ran opens his mouth before he can really think about it to say, “What about you? Thoughts on phobium?”

Watson lets out another dry laugh, and Ran feels a prick somewhere in his right arm. He stiffens.

“Nice try, kid, but you’re not getting a monologue outta me yet.”

Ran sighs, slowly and stilly, so it’s not noticeable.

He feels something run down one arm, and just as his brain clocks what’s happening, something swipes over the skin to take the water away. Ran’s heart rate rises in instinctual fear, despite the fact that all he can feel on the exposed skin is a light sting from the residue.

“Whoops, sorry about that,” Watson says cheerfully, not sounding that sorry at all.

Ran clenches his jaw and works again to stabilize his breathing. He’s got to hang on, for the kids. Hopefully they’re getting that door open right this moment and are on their way to Subbin.

“No, seriously. Phobium. What’s the deal with it?” Ran manages to get out, Pyro’s covered face appearing in his head. He tries incredibly hard to ignore the blatant threats of torture. He’s stronger than that. “Do you need to collect it, or?”

Some paper smacks Ran lightly in the head and he jumps in surprise. As Watson walks behind him to get back to his desk, he calls, “You think much too small, my friend. Nobody’s collecting anything.”

“Oh?” Ran asks, and then realizes that makes a lot of sense. Watson had the children mining, but he didn't collect any of their spoils. Ran has seen the pile of phobium ore down in the shaft; it’s enormous. He tries to come up with something, flying an explanation together based on his knowledge so far. “Think bigger… so. The phobium, the children, it’s all just for something else.”

“Oohh, getting closer,” Watson tuts, and Ran ignores the sharp pain of something in his side, squeezing his eyes tighter shut. Surely Watson won’t kill him. Surely.

He’s got to keep his cool. General Jackie could keep his cool in a situation like this.

“Okay.. uh…” Ran thinks. Thinks. What else does he know? Has he seen anything else in this whole lab?

He can’t remember. He can hardly remember the past few days at all.

Ran sighs in defeat. “I don’t know.”

“Damn,” Watson clicks his tongue. “And here I thought you were smart.”

Ran bites down on his tongue, his tail puffing up slowly as he tries not to stiffen. He will not give Watson the satisfaction of making him visibly angry.

Insults to his intelligence are low, though. Although technically not as low as the torture threats.

“Fine. Thoughts on yourself?”

Watson bursts out laughing, and Ran can hear the clinks of tools and materials as he sets them down and cleans them or whatever else it is he does.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Ran huffs in frustration, smelling smoke. “I don’t know. Do you have thoughts on yourself? Or me? Or endermen in general?”

Watson hums thoughtfully.

“That depends on how you look at it,” he says, which actually doesn’t explain anything at all. “On you… I’m thinking I might get an MRI in a moment, to cover my bases. On Endermen? Eh. Hauntings make interesting guardians for sure.”

Ran stiffens as he tries to recall when he’s heard the term MRI before. Most of the books Ran has read in his life are not especially medical, because he was only interested in Overworlder biology until it became popular and in his escapades of fiction, he’s never found interest in a hospital drama.

But in the end Ran drudges up a picture in his head– of an odd, spongey-looking thing, and then he all at once remembers what an MRI is and hopes to himself that it’s not all that scary to have done to you in person.

Ran, for all his faults, really has quite a bright mind.

After all, the council wouldn’t have kept him around if he didn’t have a lot of useful skills, such as being able to shoot an olive through the window of a moving car, or the ability to perfectly replicate a priceless map by the light of only a candle while the authorities attempted to bust down the library doors.

Additionally, Ran would consider himself to be quite self-sufficient. Not many people can drag themselves back home after a failed teleportation attempt slices off one arm, and then build themselves a functioning robotic replacement with only one hand and the materials stolen from a nearby village. (At least, it hasn’t been recorded as being pulled off very frequently or successfully.)

Everyone has faults, of course, and Ran is no exception. He lacks the social skills necessary to not sound quite blunt and rude in conversation. He also lacks the emotional intelligence to make decisions that relate to selfishness. He was raised in a relatively strict and closed society with not much understanding of Overworld cultural norms.

He also is currently still somewhat concussed, which dampens his problem solving and reasoning skills enough to make him less intelligent than usual.

So it really can’t be held against him that he doesn’t particularly notice Watson using the word “haunting” to describe a group of endermen, something that no Overworlder should usually know, or that he doesn’t take interest in the way Watson checks the temperature of his core rather then his mouth.

All of that aside, it turns out that the MRI means that Ran has to hold very still in an enclosed dark space, which he’s absolutely not a fan of, but what has he been a fan of, lately?

And once that is done, it is once again time for Ran to head back down to the mines.

There’s one problem, though, and it makes his scales feel clammy as he is forced to his feet by Watson and pulled out of the lab.

There were no alarms, no crashes of doors, and especially no scampering excited feet.

Ran doesn’t fear the worst, exactly, because Watson was here with him the whole time and he would know if any of the children got caught, but he does fear that the plan didn’t work.

He is marched back to the circular door leading to the lower mineshafts without so much as a formal goodbye. When they reach the door, Watson is distracted enough by his clipboard of notes that he doesn’t see the door shudder as it slides open. Ran flicks the rock away now that it’s served its purpose.

He trudges back down the sloping tunnel, and when he reaches the end, there are still twelve children– although they look significantly more dejected.

Ran sighs, tucking his tail around his feet. Clementine won’t meet his eyes.

With a surge of emotion, Ran is reminded of how he must look before the Council when his mission isn’t completed. With that in mind, Ran tries to school his expression into an understanding one.

“What went wrong?”

The children send each other miserable glances.

“He changed the lock,” Boreal says mournfully. “It was this fancy tech-y kind and we couldn't break it.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Zenith snaps from their little cave niche. “It’s never that easy!”

“You complain about everything!” Root wheezes from where he’s sitting with his knees to his chest on the floor.

Zenith’s wings bristle in fury and they spring to their feet. “I don’t complain about anythin’ not worth the complaints! Life isn’t fair!”

He points to Root, scraggly wings still extended in defiance. “Look at you! Your family lives in the slums ‘cos they can’t get any water-based jobs in this desert town!”

And he whirls on Boreal next, “Your father is a perfectly nice man, but he wasn’t ‘educated’ enough to live in the city either!”

Zenith reaches for their missing arm, clearly thinking of it as lines of pain cross their face, and he refers to Clementine as he says “Your sister’s disabled. She’s an avian who can’t fly, and now she might lose her job or her home and can’t afford no good teachers for you.”

I didn’t know that, Ran thinks. His tail curls inward as he feels himself get a chill.

He remembers Snail and Laggius. How Laggius hadn’t had the proper skillset to be considered helpful by their neighbors, how Laggius had then been drafted and killed in the tournament in the Pit.

But Snail and Maia loved him anyway. He was able to help them just by being around. He didn’t need to do anything, really, just being himself was…

“Life ain’t fair,” the avian child says finally, like he’s run out of steam for his rant. She sinks down in his little niche, and starts coughing. Abbey, beside them as usual, begins patting Zenith’s back with one wing and a sad expression.

Around the room, the other children react by slowly sitting as well. A mood of despair seems to overtake them.

But not even just despair– resignation, acceptance.

These children are trapped in a dark hole filled with questionable chemical substances and they’re just going to accept it because life isn’t fair?

“This isn’t right,” Ran says aloud, his voice taking some of them by surprise. Clementine glares at the floor.

Once he has their attention, Ran clenches both his fists and stares fiercely at the group.

“You may be right that things are screwed up around here,” Ran says, directing this at Zenith, who sniffs. “But you don’t have to just accept it. That’s bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad? Thank you, mister genius, I never would have thought!” Clementine huffs. She doesn’t look at him, her tail twitching to one side. “Of course it’s shit! But that’s the way it is here! I mean, that’s how everything is– the whole system. What would you even know about it?”

Ran watches her for a moment.

She’s right, after all. It’s not just some person who slighted them– although that also happened, and Ran has no intention of letting the man behind it get away unscathed.

But the whole world has been unfair to them, too. Forcing them to prove their worth of existence. Making them have to work to live, instead of just… letting them live.

And of course work is important, but once it becomes a requirement, certain people who can’t meet the requirement… injured people, or incapable people, but perfectly nice people… they are the ones who are punished, who fall through the cracks.

That’s wrong, Ran realizes, a feeling like taking a breath of fresh air after years underwater hitting him.

It’s wrong to judge a person’s worth by only their abilities.

Ran glances down at his robotic arm, turning his hand over and gazing at the fingers, the expert metalwork he’d crafted one-handed in a frenzied rush, desperate to be useful, to not fall behind.

He’s got to avoid sleeping for a while, probably.

“Okay,” Ran says. “I have another idea of how to get out of here.”

He’s going to be useful at the expense of his own self one final time. But this time will be for a good reason… and after that? Well, the world can be full of surprises, but….

Maybe Ran should try to just… be.

——

“Do you want your results or not?” Watson asks stuffily, when Ran tries to wish him a good morning on whatever the next day is.

(Clementine says it’s a Monday, but who even knows with her. Ran has no idea how she’d be able to track the time.)

“Yes,” Ran snipes back, his tail twitching. He’s only restrained by the feet this time, stuck to the chair in Watson’s research room.

He’s trying to look around without making it obvious that that’s what he’s doing. After all, any information about Watson’s motivations is useful information to have– and something to give Jackie, if Ran ever sees Jackie again. The room itself is a mess and packed full of papers everywhere, there’s not a clear surface in this whole room.

The blackboard behind him seems to be the most valuable. It’s covered in papers that look to be equations of an extremely complicated nature. Ran of course doesn’t recognize theoretical physics when he sees them, but that’s hardly his fault. They’re theoretical anyway.

Most of the equations have to do with that sketched out rectangle Ran had noticed drawn on the blackboard earlier. This close to it, he still has no idea what it actually is. Watson has a lot of theories about it though.

The final thing that seems odd is a sketch of some sort of creature. Ran doesn’t recognize it at all– though it bears some resemblance to the dreamon skeleton he’d seen before, it doesn’t look like the same thing.

“Well,” says Watson, who is of course studying the stack of papers in his hand, which must contain Ran’s results. “Your blood isn’t actually all that different from a regular enderman’s at all.”

Despite himself, Ran tunes into this with interest. After all, finding out the truth about why he’s different… it could fix so much.

Or at the very least, give him some answers.

“Neither is any of your bone structure, besides your longer tail, although the muscles in your legs are developed slightly backwards.”

“Huh?” Ran exclaims without meaning to. Backward legs? What?

“Yeah, see this?” Watson turns around an image of one of the x-rays he took. He points to a lower spot in Ran’s legs, and the same spot in a different picture. “Your legs developed differently. That’s not a birth thing though, it’s more like you were walking weirdly all the time and your muscles adjusted. Sort of like you were attempting to copy humans.”

Ran’s ears heat up in embarrassment.

“Your arms have a similar deal, but other than that, it all looks normal. The blood itself has some differences– there’s different types of cells, although of course you knew that because your blood is green,” As Watson talks, he flips through the pages in front of him. His voice sounds professional, and even interested. Ran had almost forgotten that biology was Watson’s specialty of sorts.

Kind of easy to forget things about someone after you get kidnapped by them and your whole opinion of them changes.

“But here’s where the differences really are,” Watson says, his voice picking up in obvious excitement. “Your brain.”

My brain? thinks Ran in alarm.

Watson turns the picture around, grinning as he uses a pencil to point to parts of the scan.

“You’re missing a whole-ass chemical.”

A whole chemical?!

“Most endermen I’ve ever studied,” Watson explains gleefully, “Are chock full of ampulexins. Sometimes you can find that in bee venom, but I’ve mostly only seen it in endermen brains. You have essentially none!”

Ran gazes at the scan of his own mind in muted horror.

“The other thing is the amount of hormonal chemicals,” Watson continues. “All the endermen I’ve ever studied have very little activity in the limbic system, unless otherwise provoked. You, however, have tons of activity going on there. Also, typically endermen have a large frontal cortex with infrequent activity– you have a smaller frontal lobe but you’re actually using it.”

Ran sits numbly in the chair, his tail flicking back and forth. Watson seems perfectly happy to continue to leaf through the results in his hand while Ran is silent.

You asked for answers, didn’t you?

“So what… does that mean?” Ran finally gets out, slumped in confusion.

“Hm? Well, I guess your brain probably works pretty differently than ninety percent of endermen. I wouldn’t know what it’s like where you come from, but here that might be considered a disability.”

A disability.

Ran shrinks in on himself even more.

It’s not as if he didn’t already know he was at a disadvantage, though. It was obvious, from his wrong-colored eyes to his smoke-emitting chest.

Far in the distance, there’s a clatter, and Ran’s ears shoot up in surprise.

The children are supposed to be escaping silently. Ran thought he made that very clear.

“What was that?” asks Watson, and although his voice doesn’t sound dangerous, ice shoots through Ran’s veins. That’s the thing about Watson. He doesn’t sound dangerous. But he is.

“What’s this?” Ran counter-asks instead, flinging one hand out and snagging the rectangular sketch on the blackboard beside him.

Watson’s attention is diverted as he stares at the image and his eyebrows raise. “That,” he says, smiling, “is my greatest discovery.”

“Okay. What is it?” Ran asks again in annoyance. Watson tilts his head.

“I guess you’ve been a decent companion, and it’s not like you could spread the information anyway…” Watson mutters to himself, which makes Ran’s spikes prick. “It’s a portal.”

“A portal,” Ran repeats, and looks back at the image. It’s not as if he doesn’t believe in portals just because he’s never seen one. After all, portals are what the Council wants to create– or at least, summon. It’s unclear exactly how that works. And even if he’s never encountered a portal, Ran has encountered other unbelievable tech– for instance, the device that brought him here, which attaches to certain points in time and space via certain conducting metal. But, despite all this, Ran finds it all just a little bit unbelievable.

“Let me guess,” Watson preens, “You find that all just a little bit unbelievable.”

Ran says nothing in response.

“Well, I’ll show you.” Watson stands up, and after a moment of thought, he frees Ran from the chair as well, grabbing onto his robot arm and dragging him into the tunnels again, but in a different tunnel then the one that heads to the mineshaft.

They walk for a minute in apprehensive silence– Watson rushing to show off his discovery, and Ran contemplating if he could take Watson very well in this enclosed space.

In any case, it’s a short walk into a deep and dark tunnel. Out of seemingly nowhere, the walls around Ran become stone brick. He peers at them, wondering if Watson built them to house his project– but they’re old, crumby, and have occasional weeds poking through the cracks in cement. This place is a ruin of some kind– and it’s ancient.

They turn the corner, and there it is. The rectangle, set into the floor– made of some kind of ancient stone that Ran has never seen before.

He leans in, hardly even feeling Watson’s tight grip on his wrists anymore, as he gazes into the center of the rectangle. There’s nothing in there, no magic vortex or black hole. But the feeling of it– it makes Ran’s skin crawl just to be in the same room. He can just feel the powerful magic emanating off of this thing.

“Believe me now?” Watson asks smugly, releasing Ran’s arms now that he’s gotten some rope around them. The rope is flimsy, but it makes him confident enough to walk away.

“I… really shouldn’t be here,” Ran mumbles. His head is feeling all sorts of dizzy the closer he gets to the inactive portal. His right ear burns.

“It’s not on, it can’t hurt you, kid,” Watson dismisses. He sighs. “Only an extremely powerful creature can open this gate.”

“Hm?” Ran inquires, leaning back against the wall furthest from the rectangle of stone. Watson sets one of his feet on the little staircase that leads up to it.

“There is exactly one creature with the power to open other dimensions,” Watson says, raising a hand in explanation. “Nightmare.”

“Ni… What?”

Ran slides down a little against the wall. Nightmare is one of the two Gods in the Church of Prime. Ran’s never been extraordinarily interested in theology, but you can’t learn anything about Overworld culture without learning about their religion. Those who devoted themselves to Prime are held in high regard, and of course there are the two deities assigned by Prime to watch over this universe–

Drista, the she-devil who carries a pitchfork and rewards those who please her. She appeared to mortals rarely, and without pattern. And Nightmare, the God of the Overworld, the most powerful being in existence, who guards entrance to other realms. It’s not the only religion that exists in the Overworld, but it’s by far the most widespread.

Ran wouldn’t say he believed in any of that nonsense. In fact, he didn’t even believe in his own home’s religion. Something about the feeling of this portal, though…

“So you found this and now you need… Nightmare to open it, for you? So you can see what’s on the other side?”

Watson scoffs. “That’s a huge oversimplification of my life’s travels, but yes, essentially. Unfortunately, I can’t exactly call up Nightmare on the fuckin’ phone, can I?”

Ran’s gaze slides over to the rectangle behind Watson. The aura of menace around it is deafening.

“So what do you do, then?” Ran asks. He needs to keep Watson talking. He’d expected his result discussion to take several hours, and was banking on that because it would take quite a while for the children to make the ladder and then start climbing up through the vent.

“Well, according to legend, there’s a few ways to get Nightmare’s attention,” Watson starts, standing up again. “He is, after all, a dreamon. So what you can do is mess with His portal– or mess with dreamons.”

Ran’s head spikes bush up like he’s been struck by an electric pole.

“You’re– that’s why you–”

Watson levels his gaze at Ran, unperturbed.

Ran raises himself back up to his full height, anger shooting through every bone, his tail lashing.

“That’s why you kidnapped the children! Because they mess with the phobium, which is technically dreamon remains, so it alerts your deity! And then breathing in the phobium messes with those children right back, which is surely some weird goddamn magic that will alert him as well!”

Ran starts pacing as much as he can in the small space, his hands still bound and tail lashing. “And on top of that you mess with the portal! It’s all just– to get someone’s attention?!”

Watson shrugs. “At first I was just fishing for information about phobium– see, I’d heard something about the effects it had on miners and theorized it might be related to the dreamon legends that are so popular here. But I struck gold with this discovery instead.”

Ran hisses, low and loud. A tremor runs through the earth.

Screw the plan, screw everything else. This smug ass kidnapped twelve children for attention from some dubiously existing deity and doesn’t even have the decency to feel sorry about it!

That’s not fair.

And Ran had promised himself he’d serve justice.

With a screech, Ran rushes at Watson, who dodges him and nimbly leaps to the side. The man scrambles up towards the entrance to the room, and in a second he’s drawn and nocked his bow.

When Watson shoots at him, his aim is dead-on for Ran’s chest. Because while Ran might be able to hit an olive in a moving car, Watson could decidedly hit a fruit fly thirty yards away while flying through the air. Watson is good with a bow.

But Ran throws himself bodily to the side, smacking into the wall. He’s not going down so easily.

Ran lets out another screech, an enderman fighting sound, before he violently twists his robotic arm and breaks the rope that had been cuffing him. Watson’s brows shoot up, and then he turns and sprints up the tunnel to the main area.

Coward, Ran growls to himself. He knows Watson is heading for an open area so that shooting at him will be easier and Ran won’t be able to trap him into close quarters combat.

It’s smart, but all the more frustrating for Ran, who chases the man up the tunnel back near the study.

Another tremor runs through the earth, this one much closer, or much bigger– one of the two. Ran pauses in his chase to steady himself instead of faceplanting straight into the floor, which would be wildly unhelpful in this situation.

The kids will have barely finished with their ladder right now, Ran worries. What is causing that shaking? An earthquake?

Ran exits the tunnel into the main area, but he’s thinking so hard that he doesn’t see Watson waiting for him.

With a twang, there’s an arrow in his left side, and then rapidly, there’s a second one just below it.

Ran stumbles, falling onto one knee. But he has the presence of mind to roll away before the third arrow that flies from Watson’s bow can spear him through the head.

Waves of pain ripple through Ran’s body. He tries to stand up again and falters as his side refuses to take the weight. Instead, he stumbles to the side, leaning against the wall. His vision becomes fuzzy, and for a moment he’s at the mercy of his opponent.

Luckily for him, Watson is preoccupied with the ceiling caving in.

Oh wait, the ceiling is caving in.

In a waterfall of dirt, stone, and debris, light floods into the main room. Light not from the sky, but from the windows of the empty warehouse above them.

Surfing the wave is a motorcycle– a coppery motorcycle, and the rider’s blond hair whips against the air as he screeches down into the room. Before it crashes into the wall, he leaps off of the bike and skids to a stop in front of Watson, who is watching this with eyes bugging out of his head.

“On second thought,” announces the motorcyclist, yanking his goggles down onto his neck, “Exploding my way into here might not have been the best idea. But to be fair, I didn’t know there was a cave system that is liable to collapse.”

He’s dressed in expensive, enchanted armour. His hair is full of dirt. He swings what can only be a magical sword around to stop at Watson’s throat.

“Any last words, old man?”

“General Brackett,” Ran breathes in pained relief.

He’s absolutely glorious.

Ran has only a second to be overjoyed before Watson counterattacks again.

Watson ducks, and kicks Jackie’s feet out from under him. With a yelp, the General hits the floor, but he rolls and springs to his feet again in an instant, slashing at Watson’s tie.

Watson leaps onto some of the displaced rock, climbing quickly up to the top of the pile and drawing his bow again. He has the advantage— he has the high ground.

“Shit,” Jackie mutters and then skids across the room to where Ran’s curled up on the floor. “You good to stand?”

Ran nods, pulling himself up on the wall, powering through his shaking legs and squeezing stomach and head fuzziness.

“The kids,” he hisses, wincing. “There’s– all twelve of them are down the tunnels, they might get trapped.”

Jackie’s eyes widen in alarm. Now that he’s apparently used explosives to force his way into Watson’s hideout, the ground is so unstable that it’s going to continue to collapse. The kids might get trapped in a mineshaft— and suffocate.

“Okay,” Jackie thinks on his feet. “We’ll just–”

Abruptly he grabs Ran by the shoulders and forcibly shoves both of them to the ground, and the arrow embeds itself in the stone wall where they had just been.

“Shit,” Jackie whispers again.

“He’s weak in close-quarters combat, remember?” Ran blurts, his head spinning. “If we get close enough…”

He doesn’t get time to finish his sentence because it suddenly seems that Watson cares a lot less about wasting arrows and more about getting as many shots in as possible. A volley follows them around, and Jackie does compex twists to avoid being shot. As the pair of them scramble carefully up the mountain of rubble, Jackie grabs a sheet of metal to use as a shield.

They’re fast enough that they catch Watson by surprise. Jackie hollers some sort of battle cry and slices into his leg– there’s a clang, and nothing happens.

The two of them stand in shock and Watson laughs.

“Hey, sometimes experiments explode! Robot prosthetics aren’t the hardest thing in the world to build.”

Thinking fast, Ran kicks his feet out from under him, but Watson just uses the fall to slide down the pile and redraw his bow. In a flash, he shoots Jackie in the right arm.

Jackie shouts in pain, but he doesn’t fall– he switches arms for the sword, leaps down the gap and swings with precision, nicking Watson’s chest. The cut is small, barely made it through his clothes– but it starts bleeding all the same, and Watson grows visibly angrier.

As Jackie winds up to swing again, his right arm hanging limply, Watson rips a knife from his pocket and slashes across the general’s face.

Jackie shouts, stumbling backwards. The blow just barely missed his eyes, but there’s so much blood on his face now that he can’t see anyway.

Ran feels something in his chest grow white hot.

And with the unshakeable feeling that he needs to fulfill this primal instinct inside of him, Ran unhinges his jaw, and screams in fury.

He rushes down the mountain, reaching and pulling something sharp out of the wreckage to brandish as a weapon in Watson’s direction. Watson tries to step backward but Ran rushes him like a bull, delivering blow after blow to his arms as he can reach them. Beating into him as much as he can, something taking over his mind that he can’t even name.

Watson reaches down, too, quickly grabbing something large and unwieldy, and then he lobs it around– with a smash and a crunch– it crushes Ran’s prosthetic arm.

Ran howls in pain– he can’t feel anything in the arm itself, but the shoulder that the arm is attached to is crushed, the bones broken. He digs his claws into the latch at the top and pops the arm off.

Down one arm, Ran spins around, hissing at Watson— who is now preoccupied with Jackie relentlessly coming after him with that incredibly expensive-looking sword. He’s still bleeding, and seems to be relying mostly on instinct to aim his blows. His injured arm is held close to his chest, the left doing all the work.

We’re each down one arm, but together–

Ran comes in on Watson’s other side, using his single arm to slash at the man with the sharp object he’d picked up. Jackie immediately sees this and starts working with Ran to disarm Watson; to overwhelm him with blows.

Ran doesn’t have time to feel confident– he’s too busy trying to block and attack and protect Jackie all at once with only one hand. As one, they crowd him into the wall.

Watson shouts in anger, swinging wildly directly for Ran’s throat. But before he gets there, Jackie flips his sword backwards and brings it down onto Watson’s head with a crack so loud it makes them both wince.

Watson sinks to his knees and crashes to the floor, unconscious.

“Take that, dickhead,” Jackie huffs, and from his belt he pulls out handcuffs and chains. He gets to his knees and carefully ties up the kidnapper one-handed.

Ran watches this for a moment. His head hurts and his body hurts and adrenaline is pumping so hard he almost doesn’t feel the multiple arrows and broken bones, but those are definitely still there. They didn’t stop being a thing.

“... Why didn't you kill him?” Ran asks when words finally come to him. Watson has a head injury for sure– an incredibly serious one. But as Ran and Jackie both know, slitting his throat or stabbing him would have been a quicker and easier way of doing that.

Jackie sighs and stands up, holding out the sword. It’s Netherite, and the dark and incredibly rare metal shimmers with what must have been expensive enchantments.

“That was Porkius’s deal,” Jackie explains. “When I told him about Watson he said he’d give me the best gear possible to defeat him, as long as I promised to bring him back alive so he can be jailed.”

“Oh,” Ran mumbles. He’s kind of surprised that Porkius would be so involved or devoted to taking down the kidnapper. But then again, he had said he was trying to solve the problem on his own.

Maybe they’d misjudged the King.

Ran turns back to Jackie, emotions hitting him all at once. He’d never thought he’d see or speak to Jackie again. Doesn’t he hate Ran? Shouldn’t he want nothing to do with him? Wouldn’t he–

Without so much as a warning, Jackie smacks Ran in the face with his good hand.

Ran stands there in dumbfounded silence. …Well, that answers that question, at least?

Jackie just glares at him, bright blue eyes alight.

“That was for whatever the fuck you pulled on the balcony, by the way,” Jackie grumbles. He cradles his injured arm. “I’m still pissed at you. But… I’m also willing to hear you out.”

“...Hear me out? I tried to kill you,” Ran starts to argue incredulously, but Jackie just holds up a finger in a shushing gesture.

“Not the time,” Jackie chastises. His face is still bloodied everywhere beneath the eyes and even into his jacket collar. “There’s kids to rescue.”

This guy, Ran thinks to himself for what is definitely not the first time, is extremely screwed up in the head.

But he agrees about the children. As if sensing their peril, some of the ground around them shudders, threatening to crumble down now that it’s so unstable.

Jackie and Ran set off. Ran leads the way, since Jackie doesn’t know where the children actually are. But unlike Jackie who seems to be taking his injury in stride, Ran is struggling to hold himself together. He hobbles down the path at the greatest pace he can muster up, but he’s sure if Jackie had been leading they’d be going faster.

Then again, Ran had also suffered a head injury, sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and multiple arrow wounds in the past few days, so maybe he’s just in a worse state to begin with.

On the way, they find a cart much like the one used to send food to the mineshaft. The two of them wordlessly jump onto it, and Jackie pushes them off from the wall so they can skate down the rest of the way.

When they reach the area, it’s blocked slightly by some shifting rocks, which Ran and Jackie work together to push out of the way. When the children see Ran, they cry out and surround him, worry and fear in their voices. Jackie gets them to quiet down, doing a head count.

“That’s… all of them,” Jackie says in wonder. “Ran, we found all of them.”

Ran nods weakly. “We have to get them out.”

The walls shudder violently again. Jackie jumps and scoops up the nearest child to him, which happens to be Root. The squid boy looks terrified and clutches onto Jackie’s hood.

“Come on, everyone!” Jackie shouts, and the fourteen of them stumble their way back up the shaking tunnel into the main area. Ran pushes Zenith and Yasin on the cart up the way they came.

In the cart, Ran spots a small paper-wrapped object and uses his claws to unwrap it curiously.

Inside is a golden triangle earring.

Ran blanches, and then flips over the package, realizing that the papers it was wrapped in had writing on the back.

They use this type of metal to conduct some sort of electricity, or magic, or perhaps both. I imagine it can be used for either an insanely powerful method of teleportation or a mental communication of sorts. My guardians have not yet use–

Ran doesn’t read the rest of the letter. He’s too busy staring in mounting horror at the sickeningly familiar shape of the gold.

When they reach the open ceiling, Jackie struggles up the mound of rubble and then hefts Root into the above warehouse.

“Go outside this building and wait for me,” Jackie instructs the child, who nods with wide eyes. Jackie reaches for Boreal next, now that the kids have all grouped around him to wait their turn.

“I just wish I knew what this was all about!” Jackie shouts in Ran’s direction. “Then we could– you know, have the full story!”

Ran’s eyes widen. They do have the full story. It’s all in the study down the other way. He could grab all the papers and bring them. Not to mention incredible breakthroughs in scientific research– and of course, the portal itself, which will be buried with the rest of the tunnels. Should he let it?

No. No, it’s– he felt it back there, that magic is powerful and alluring. And it’s going to draw someone else, or even Watson again. Or it might summon Nightmare, if the deity really exists. It’s a problem and it needs to be destroyed for good.

“I know it!” Ran shouts back. “It’s all downstairs! I can go get it!”

Jackie grins wickedly, and Ran realizes just how much he’s missed seeing that expression.

The cart beside him, full of breakable glass globes and such in the bottom part, starts rattling. Ran’s ears flatten against his head. The cave is going to collapse any minute now.

Jackie lifts the last child through the top and then slides down the dirt to land in front of Ran expectantly.

“So where are we going?” he asks, pumped up despite having just really pushed his injured arm.

“I… please don’t come, General Brackett. But I’ll be right back.”

I couldn’t handle you dying after everything.

Jackie’s expression twists into a frown.

The walls around them shake once more, and then Jackie seems to realize exactly what Ran is thinking as his eyes grow wide and alarmed. Dried blood still cakes the lower half of his face.

“No,” He spits, clenching his fists. “No, I’m not letting you do that. You can’t do that.”

“There’s something down there, Jackie, and it’s my responsibility to get rid of it,” Ran insists, and once he says it, he’s sure it’s true. Too much is lining up– the earring, the strange portal, the Council sending him here in the first place. Even if they didn’t exactly put it there, they have had something to do with it.

And Ran has decided that from now on things around here are going to be fair. Entirely void of the Council’s influence.

Jackie bites his bottom lip, looking at Ran with an expression he can’t place.

The thing about saying goodbye is that they say goodbyes are the hardest, when really goodbyes aren’t all that hard at all. Saying goodbye is as easy as saying any other thing, in fact almost exactly that easy. As one leaves the grocery store and says goodbye to the cashier, they don’t feel bad at all; as you hang up the phone on an annoyed parent you might feel quite relieved to say goodbye.

Saying goodbye depends much less on what is said and much more on what isn’t said.

Sometimes the people saying goodbye are not aware they’re saying goodbye, and years down the line they will think to themselves, was that really it? The very last thing I said?

That is hard to deal with, but perhaps none of these are as hard as saying goodbye for the very last time, and knowing you are saying it.

“We’re not– We’re not doing this!” Jackie snaps, and he marches away toward the rubble, refusing to look at the enderman. “We’re leaving now, and we’re going to get these kids home, and then you and I are going to be awkward around each other while I decide if I even ever want to see you again or not, and then–!”

“Jackie!” Ran pleads, scrambles across the rubble.

Once he’s there he doesn’t know what to do.

Jackie looks at him, worried, exasperated, expecting. Something else is in his gaze too, something shocked maybe. But there’s no time anymore. And words fail Ran because he’s not even sure what he can say. Or even what he wants to say.

I didn’t want to do it, I swear, but I convinced myself I had to.

Or… maybe I did want to, but not anymore, and certainly not ever again— and just thinking about it now I feel so remorseful—

I was stupid, and I was wrong. I should’ve told you the truth.

I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but I just need you to understand.

I think I might love you.

All of these things die on Ran’s tongue as he stares. What ends up coming out, short, pained, and breathless, is:

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is still raspy and raw. Jackie purses his lips, his eyes scrunching up.

“I know, Ran.”

And something in his tone convinces Ran that he really does.

Jackie reaches one hand up towards Ran’s face, who automatically leans down to help his reach.

Jackie’s brows furrow as he chews his bottom lip, and then without warning, he leans forward to press his lips to Ran’s forehead. It’s so short that he’s gone again before Ran can even process it, green eyes wide and shocked.

He’s unnaturally warm, is all Ran’s brain can supply dumbly.

“Ran Aetherman?” Jackie says lowly, still leaning close enough that only Ran can hear. “Do not fucking die. That’s an order.”

Ran can see in Jackie’s welling eyes that he knows that request can’t be followed.

But who is he to deny an order from his general?

“Yes, sir,” he whispers back, raising his one arm in a weak salute.

Jackie nods sharply, like that settles things, and he turns away so Ran can’t see his face anymore.

“Are you two done kissing back there?!” shouts Clementine’s annoyed voice from the warehouse.

Ran takes a step back towards the tunnel.

“I’m coming!” Jackie calls, and with one last glance towards Ran, he leaves.

Ran doesn’t let the moment linger; there’s too much at stake to waste time.

He rushes down the opposite tunnel, into the study, and grabs a duffel bag to stuff as many important papers as he can in there. He’s only really able to fit everything around the blackboard and the main desk, but there’s still stuff everywhere that could potentially be important…

Thinking fast, Ran wrenches open a file cabinet and begins stuffing every remaining scrap of paper into it. This way, even when the tunnels are collapsed, they can dig out the papers later and they’ll have been protected.

The walls quake in warning and Ran gives the study a final once-over before leaving.

Outside, he grabs the cart again, and rides it straight down to where the portal is. The thing shakes, partially because transfer carts are not meant to carry endermen, and partially because the tunnel walls are shaking as clumps of dirt rain down from the unstable supports.

Ran leaps off of the moving wheeled device while it’s still moving and winces at the crashing noise it makes against the edge of the rectangular stone.

Okay, he’s here now. His skin crawls with the feeling of ancient magic in this room.

He’s here, now how does he destroy it?

The room shudders again and Ran stumbles closer to the unlit portal, his head getting woozy.

Oh End, not now, Ran thinks. He’s fainted more in the past couple of weeks than the rest of his life combined.

The magic itself is still having an affect on him–

It’s with that thought that Ran falls to his knees.

Stars swirl in his vision, sprinkled in with swirling black void.

His head pounds, his arms and legs shake with the exertion of the past hour.

In the distance, Ran can see the lime green towers of Terminus shimmering into view…

Oh, wait.

Soft intonation reaches Ran’s ears, some pitchy whines and vwoops. It takes him a second to remember the language, to know what has been said to him.

He feels half dead on his feet.

“I’ve been waiting for you to properly sleep,” is what was said.

Surely enough, when Ran raises his gaze, sitting across from him and holding a beverage politely in one hand is an enderman with a piercing violet gaze.

Ran is… afraid. Of course he’s afraid, this is the Council. Not that he particularly fears the Council, but the idea of them being disappointed in him always makes his skin itch and his heart race and his chest sweat and… well, it’s close enough to fear anyway. And he failed. He probably disappointed them. This is almost his worst nightmare.

It’s almost comedic, how he’s standing here in torn clothes and missing his arm. He’s laid bare, only the truth of his uselessness apparent now. He’s pitiful.

Normally, Ran would respond with a greeting in kind. He’s still inclined to do this, even now, even after how long it’s been since he’s spoken to any of them.

But something in him just… doesn’t speak.

Two raises its steaming drink to its mouth to take a sip. Ran recognizes the smell as chorus fruit tea, contained in half of a chorus shell. It’s a nostalgic smell– almost calming.

Ran’s tail flicks as Two finishes its sip and sets the shell into its lap, staring at the surface of the beverage that still emanates steam.

“So,” Two says, not looking up from the drink. “Not only did you fail your assigned mission, you got involved in things that are frankly not your business, which collapsed a plan that was decades in the making. Our species depended on the success of the Player to free us from our isolation and summon the connection portals.”

Two’s tail curls thoughtfully around its legs. It blows some steam off of the shell, taking another sip as it patiently waits for Ran to defend himself.

He doesn’t.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” Two asks, its speech as sharp as barbs. Ran twitches.

“I… didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t,” Two agrees with a small nod, taking another sip from the chorus tea.

Ran grinds his jaw down.

He thinks many, many things. Things about killing people to further plans, things about manipulation of free will– even things about how he was treated.

But even after thinking all of that, Ran still feels bad. Bad that he failed. Bad that he disappointed the Council.

Ran can’t bring himself to be angry. Just guilty.

“I…” Ran starts to say.

“What?” Two prompts harshly. For a second, its eyes flick towards his face.

“I’m sorry, but.” Ran breathes. “I think you’re going to have to fire me.”

There’s a long moment of ominous silence. In the distance, the towers of Terminus appear empty and lifeless.

Two sets down the shell, eerily quiet in its movements.

“Excuse me?”

Ran blanches in fear, but he takes a breath and prowls on with his blundering.

“If I’m so detrimental to your plans, you need to fire me. Plus…” Ran recalls the face of Zenith on his precipice. “It’s… not fair to me, either.”

Two stares at Ran.

Not quite into his eyes, but at him.

Two stares for so long that Ran starts to get worried.

Eventually, Two stands up, tail curling upward, the tea abandoned on the floor.

“You think you can just …leave?” Two asks, something in its voice reaching deep and causing all of the spines down Ran’s back to lift in alarm.

“You are a part of this Order, Ran. That’s not something you can leave just because you think it’s ‘unfair’. It’s not something you can quit. You can’t run away from us, we’re one. We’re a part of you.”

Ran frowns. He thinks of Jackie, how he put his assasination life behind him to do something better. Maybe not intentionally, but Jackie betters himself every day.

“Actually, I think I can.”

Ran stands too, and though he has to look up to meet Two’s eyes he feels something like exhilarated bravado fill him.

Freeze.

Oh, maybe– maybe Ran should hold on for just a second actually.

Opposite him, Two’s aggravated tail twitches come to a stop as well. Both of them stand, paralyzed, and Ran feels something take him over. Something cold and horrible.

The mist sweeps away, and out of the smoke appears a huge enderman drawn up to full height. Its head spikes are spread out like the beams of the sun.

One.

If Ran wasn’t paralyzed already, he would be paralyzed now.

Some things are just too terrifying for your body to handle.

Instead of appearing like a shape, instead the tall silhouette appears like negative space. Like a black hole even darker then the void around them, like something sucking away all the light.

The air becomes frigid around Ran.

One’s gaze is a thousand times more frightening when it’s actually on him. Something is pulling deep within Ran’s soul, sucking it out. A grip like a vice on his heart squeezes him. His whole body is cold.

You are not going anywhere, says no one, or maybe everyone, or maybe Ran thinks it to himself.

He’s not sure. The only thing he’s sure of is that he’s not going anywhere.

The large enderman’s tail lashes and it takes a step forward.

You. You ruined our plan.

Two lashes its tail, sending Ran a furious look. Its composure is suddenly lost. A wave of guilt washes over Ran, and the ground beneath his feet shudders.

Everything is gone because of you.

With a horrible resounding crack, the tallest tower in the distance splinters down the middle. Other towers follow, and the island itself quakes as it begins to crumble apart.

This is because of me, Ran thinks in horror. Picturing the endermen who will die because of him. Or at the very least, remain trapped in evil clutches forever.

Ran trembles, his tail between his legs as the vision in his mind shatters more and more. Things are breaking, things are being ruined, and it’s all his fault.

This isn’t fair, Ran thinks.

Two hisses and whirls to face him, like it can sense his traitorous thoughts. Ran takes a step back.

He doesn’t even want to be here anymore.

He’s not sure when Terminus stopped being home and started being somewhere to escape from. But it happened regardless, and Ran… Ran wants to leave now.

You cannot leave.

He can’t wake up.

Ran pinches himself. He pokes at his injuries even, but he doesn’t wake up.

He thinks he can hear screaming coming from the distant islands. Ran’s ears flatten against his head.

“Stay here,” Two snarls. “Do not attempt to escape the consequences of your actions!”

It’s just a dream, it’s just a visit, Ran reminds himself. It’s not real, it’s just…

Habitually, he tugs on his earring in anxiety.

… His earring.

Ran’s mutated eyes flick upward to meet Two’s as he knows they have the same thought.

“Goodbye!” Ran shouts. “It’s been an honour!”

And before either of them can stop him–

Ran rips the golden triangle out, throws it on the floor, and smashes the bauble under his heel.

A terrible scream splits the air.

Everything shatters and splinters. Flashes of color distort through Ran’s vision, his limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to catch himself from falling as the floor supporting him disappears.

Consciousness sweeps Ran up like the ground coming up to meet him. He jerks awake, having been crouched uncomfortably on the floor near the empty portal.

As Ran comes to, he comprehends that the scream was One.

For just a moment, he stands there, panting, but his wits return quickly and he realizes the room is caving in just as much as his Terminus mindscape.

It occurs to Ran that he’s actually… not making it out of this one alive.

He bites down on his tongue, refusing to give into despair. He shakes off the dirt and dust on his head and shoulders, grabbing the nearest sharp object to pry apart the portal.

Part of his very instincts are screaming in pain about destroying such ancient magic; right along with his side, screaming with the stretching and scraping of multiple arrow wounds. His crushed shoulder is especially unhappy about this, but Ran powers on, panting and just plowing into the rock. The pull of the unopened gateway into another dimension diminishes as soon as the rectangle is broken.

Something tells him this ancient-looking rock rectangle shouldn’t be this easy to take apart; but the bricks come right away in his hands, and he buries them under weeds around the room. This whole place will be caved in soon anyway, he doesn’t need to do anything fancy as long as he breaks it.

As the magic of the room fades away, Ran knows for certain that the further parts of the tunnel are collapsed. He can’t go back that way, if any way.

He looks around the room frantically, in case there’s some secret exit he’s missed, but there’s nothing. His heart rate rises, and soon enough, he starts coughing up smoke.

His chest fizzles and sparks like a dead engine, heating up with the force of his fear. Ran crouches down beside the cart he pushed in here, which is rattling so much now that the glass globes in the bottom rattle together like a drumroll.

Ran’s tail wraps around himself and he screws his eyes shut.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t, I really don’t, I want to see the sunshine, and eat interesting food, and wear nice clothes, and… I want to see Jackie Brackett smile again.

Ran’s not sure if that’s just the earth shaking or if he’s shaking, too.

Isn’t there anything he can do?

Of course it would end like this, in an enclosed and collapsing space— just to really hammer in the uselessness of the sparks in his chest, just to remind him as if he didn’t know already that he’s mutant and he can’t teleport and he can’t do anything, anything at all.

Ran gasps and hiccups in a strange combination, like his body is trying to force something out.

He chances opening his eyes and glances at the ceiling.

In the next second, the dirt and rock above him breaks apart and comes rushing downward. Ran opens his mouth and gasps.

“Oh, fuck.”

The last thing Ran feels is his heart sputtering futilely in his chest.

In hardly a second of rushing, crashing, and tumbling sound, and some sort of horrible snap-crack, the room is buried in several tons of dirt, rock, and building; crushing everything instantly.

Chapter Text

Jackie Brackett has been to exactly one other funeral in his life.

He was thirteen years old, and the snowflakes had whirled through the air and stuck to his cheeks, melting instantly and making it look almost as if he was crying. He wasn’t, though.

Next to him, the sunday-school teacher, the one with white hair, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Would you like to go set flowers on the casket, dear?”

Jackie had bit his tongue to stop the retort that almost tumbled out. Instead, he shook his head.

The woman didn’t press the issue.

Jackie can’t remember that ceremony at all. He hadn’t been paying attention to it. He’d had the flowers meant for the grave clasped tightly in his hands, and wet cheeks, and he had been trying very, very hard to understand why he even had to be here.

He wasn’t mourning. Not at all.

As they lowered the body into the hole, Jackie did not cry, nor did he speak. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be feeling, or how he should be feeling it, but he knew he was probably doing it wrong.

He just stirred in a sullen rage.

Jackie was angry.

Actually, he was absolutely, terribly, livid. The kind of anger that comes from sheer helplessness, from injustice– the kind of anger that makes everything seem red and smoky, the kind of anger that clouds up everything else in ash.

He was mad, and staying that way.

At least, for the next several years.

Today Jackie looks down at the little invitation in his hand, and he’s not mad at all.

He does, however, feel a little bit guilty that he doesn’t know enough about funeral procedures to do anything except give a little speech.

Mostly he’s thinking about how lucky he is that he’s only been to one other funeral in his whole life. Not many people around here can say that.

(That’s not to say that Jackie has seen a shortage of death, because he hasn’t. He’s seen quite a lot of that. But Jackie has never felt enough empathy, or lack of common sense, to visit the funerals of the numerous people he had seen die. Jackie’s inner anger had taken a very long time to subside.)

He hadn’t known what flowers were appropriate for a funeral. Normally he’d skim the library for such a simple fact (Prime, does Jackie love the library, it’s like his second home) but he’s been so busy this past week that he hasn’t really had the time. So he’d just bought some white roses and hoped that worked out all right. They look mournful enough anyway.

He’d invited some people to the funeral, but not many. Jackie is a realist, and he knows not many people would be willing to attend. So he didn’t press the issue much, just passed out his handmade invitations as was convenient.

The important people would probably show up, anyway.

Jackie leaves his room in the castle and winds down the staircases, exiting into the back garden, which he crosses through until he reaches the cemetery for soldiers.

He steps carefully out into the castle graveyard. Jackie hadn’t even known they actually had one of these, but his joking suggestion prompted Porkius to agree, and so Jackie had buried his companion out here– with every other soldier who’d gone down serving.

He shuffles towards the plot of land with freshly overturned dirt, holding up his bouquet of white roses as he starts to speak.

As he’d expected, there was no crowd to hear his speech. Evidently, everyone was too busy to show up to a funeral such as this, but Jackie didn’t mind.

He breathes in, and then out. The peacefulness of this quiet garden is soothing.

So with that, he begins his obituary, raising his voice as if there was a crowd.

“We are gathered here today,” Jackie says, “To honor someone who lost his life defending Subbin. Who risked it to help me rescue children. There is hardly anything more respectable than that.”

Jackie clears his throat again. He gazes down at the headstone, squeezing his flowers. He doesn’t really have time to be sad, though. He’s got to stay strong, and move forward, and help out with all the aftermath of last week’s… bullshit.

“You were a true friend, and a brave soldier.”

He starts to set the roses on the ground, but then stops, instead deciding to pull a single one out to keep before he lays the rest there.

He stands back up, pressing his lips together in an attempt to stop any rebellious eyes that are thinking very hard about watering.

“Micycle the Motorcycle, or, as you were known to your friends, Mike,” Jackie chokes out. “I hope you’re doing wheelies in motorcycle heaven.”

He bows respectfully.

There’s the sounds of birds chirping for just a moment in the air of the garden, and then Jackie hears a muffled laugh from the bench behind him.

Jackie whirls on the observer, bristling. “It doesn’t sound like you’re taking this all that seriously!”

On the bench overlooking the cemetery, Ran sits in a hospital robe that has one arm pinned up to stop it from dragging. He uses the hand he does have– the right one– to cover up his mouth, hiding the smile there.

“I am!” Ran says.

“Mike the Motorcycle lost his life bravely rescuing you, and you can’t even be respectful at his funeral!” Jackie accuses him. Both of them stare at each other.

After a second, Jackie huffs out a laugh. Ran scoots over so he can sit on the bench next to him.

They sit in the quiet for a moment. During the quiet moment, Jackie wonders to himself if bringing Ran out here was really all that worth it, when the doctors had been extremely clear about how much rest he needed, and when surely he must be exhausted from the surgery, still, and when Mike’s funeral was mostly for Jackie’s own peace of mind than anything serious.

“Are you going to build another one?” Ran finally asks, when the birds that were startled off by Jackie’s appearance are fluttering back in cautiously. Jackie has silently handed Ran the leftover flowers, and he inspects them curiously.

Jackie snorts. “Eventually.” Then he reaches one hand over to tap Ran’s left shoulder. “I think this probably takes some priority, yeah?”

He’s referring to building Ran a new robotic arm, since the old one was absolutely unusable, to Ran’s incredible disappointment.

Ran predictably makes a mournful little noise in his throat. If Jackie isn’t mistaken, Ran had probably put as much time and effort into that arm as Jackie did into Mike.

Maybe we need to have an arm funeral, as well, Jackie thinks briefly, but the thought flits away before he can seriously consider it.

“Are you hungry?” Jackie asks, “because I’m hungry.”

Ran sort of gives him that look, the sort of fond but definitely also amused look that says Oh, but you’re always hungry, and Jackie shoves him gently in the side.

“I am!” Jackie laughs. “I think we ought to go into the castle kitchens and take whatever we want.”

Jackie stands, and then he leans down to help Ran get off the bench, as well. Ran leans on him the whole way into the castle, but Jackie doesn’t really mind. In fact, he might’ve been annoyed if Ran attempted to walk by himself.

He did that a lot of times towards the start, when he refused to believe that surgeries actually do require rest and relaxation afterward.

“Whatever god decided it would be fun to keep you alive probably isn’t a god to be tested, Ran,” Jackie had warned, and there had been a lot of grumbling, but Ran had eventually accepted the idea that he would have to stay in bed and have things brought to him.

Jackie smiles and starts mentally prepping their lunch.

—

But things were not so calm just a little while ago, in the past. Several days in the past, actually.

While the shaking crashes of the cavern collapse still echo around, Jackie, too far away to hear, is ushering twelve children towards a group of trainees.

The sun is beating down on his skin, and he reaches up to wipe sweat off his brow, feeling relief in every bone of his body that he’d sent for help.

These people couldn’t keep up with his motorcycle, of course, which is why they hadn’t made it to the warehouse with him. But they’d been diligently speeding in the right direction the whole time, and now Jackie can deliver the children to them instead of having to go all the way back to the city on foot. Which is good because he needs to get back to Ran now.

“Take them right to the King,” Jackie wheezes to Joey, whose feathers bristle as he nods. “I gotta go back.”

“General—“ asks April, her rabbit ears picking up in concern. “Where are you going? Do you need help?”

Jackie pauses from where he’d already been briskly walking back in the direction of the warehouse, and realizes, yes, maybe assistance could make this easier.

“Mash,” Jackie says, waving a hand over his shoulder without looking. “And Shord, and Typh.”

April bounds away on her strong legs to shout for the recruits he requested, and Jackie storms away into the sand on foot.

He is not letting Ran get away this time.

His emotions are a whirlwind, a typhoon. But not a directionless one, or one that’s spinning out of control— the whole thing narrows into a point. In the direction of that warehouse, and cave, and Ran.

There’s one question blaring to the tune of alarm sirens in Jackie’s mind, and that question is:

What the fuck was I thinking?

Ran was there. Ran was there, right in grabbing (and hitting) distance and Jackie let him slip away again, out of his fingers and into the arms of what must have certainly been suicide.

And why? Because he knew what Ran was doing was important? Because he respected him? Because he trusted him? Because he liked him too much to say no?

No matter the reason, he’s dealing with the consequences of it now. The three soldiers he asked for are following along behind him in matching speed, wisely choosing not to start a conversation when he must look like hell.

He’s considering hitting himself, but that will only slow him down and he needs to keep running because dream , that cave system was so unstable (and Jackie doesn’t even fully want to apologize for destroying the place) and there’s no way Ran’s little dance in heroism isn’t going to end in certain death if he can’t get over there and save his ass.

For one second, Jackie allows himself to remember the expression on Ran’s face when he’d driven down the rubble to apprehend Watson. He lets the emotion of that power him to walk faster.

He does not think on it any further than that. Or, maybe he does and maybe he’s been crying for this whole walk and occasionally screaming in anger or hitting things, but the soldiers respect him too much to tell anyone so he doesn’t even care anymore.

They reach the warehouse and it probably was only about a ten minute walk but it’s felt like years and Jackie starts sprinting again, through the doors and to the hole in the ground he’d made.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see.

What he does see is that it’s collapsed.

Jackie stands on the edge of the manhole, his clenched fists shaking, for about thirty seconds before he slides down into it and starts lifting the rocks with his bare hands.

Wordlessly, Mash and Shord begin to help him. Both of them are able to lift much bigger rocks than him (and stop him from injuring himself). Typh, for some reason, climbs one of the warehouse’s old wall racks and starts looking around from up there.

Mash spots Jackie’s confused look and jerks one thumb up at Typh before saying, “In case the enderman teleported somewhere else.”

Oh, that explains it.

Jackie isn’t even sure that Ran can teleport, thoughl; in fact, he was under the impression he couldn’t. But a thorough search never hurt anyone, so they continue, and Jackie tries not to feel like the avalanche is repeating again inside his stomachover the course of the digging.

His head pounds, his eyes sting, and his hands have been scraped raw by the rocks, but Jackie plows on undeterred.

He’s going to find Ran because Ran is alive, and that’s really all there is to say about that.

Typh eventually hops over to the other side of the warehouse. While Mash helps Jackie grunt up a particularly large boulder, he cranes his neck out one of the top windows, gasps, and pitches forward so hard he nearly topples down in his surprise.

“What?” Jackie asks immediately, almost dropping the rock on Mash’s poor talons. “What is it?”

“I think he’s out there, sir!”

In the blink of an eye, all four of them are running outside the warehouse and around to the back, the side that wasn’t visible from their approach.

Sure enough, a ways away from the building but still within sight, sprawled on his side with his eyes shut and his arm missing, is Ran Atherman.

Jackie stumbles and falls to his knees, something he hopes looks like it was on purpose, and checks over the enderman.

He’s not moving. In fact, he looks entirely frozen— a husk, a shell of how he normally slinks around with rippling precision.

For the first time today Jackie’s breath finally catches in his throat, and he chokes. His heart stops in his chest and all that pressure in his head from the monsoon finally comes to a point right behind his eyes.

If Ran’s dead— if Ran’s dead, he—

He what? He doesn’t even know anymore. He just doesn’t want Ran dead.

Jackie finally gets his act together enough to attempt to check the vitals. He sticks his fingers in Ran’s neck— is that a pulse? What do endermen pulses even feel like?

Mash reaches over his shoulder to hold her hand over Ran’s slightly open mouth.

“Breathing,” she says after a moment, and god, why didn’t Jackie think of that? You’d think he’d be better at keeping people alive, but, apparently not!

Jackie lurches forward, trying to see signs of that supposed life on Ran’s face. But he’s wasting time, what is he thinking anyway—

He gets to his feet and signals to the other two.

“Shord, carry him back, we have to get him to a medic.”

They rush back to Subbin as fast as they can.

——

Obviously, the medics are far more concerned with keeping Ran alive than figuring out how he survived in the first place. Jackie has theories that range from an explosion throwing him out of the cave and through a window to divine intervention, but he doesn’t spend much time thinking about it. Instead he spends his time following the doctors around and harassing them for information on Ran’s health status.

The people who investigated the scene cannot come up with any explanation for how it happened, for a while. After a while, one thinker points out that he’d been found near a crate of shattered pearl residue.

“It’s possible,” the detective had said, “that the fallin’ rocks crushed him into the pearls in just the right way, and that many o’ them popped him around till he hit surface. Awfully convenient. Nothin’ short of divine intervention, that.”

Jackie wasn’t a believer in Prime, or in anything really, and he wasn’t about to start. But even he couldn’t deny there was something miraculous about the whole occurrence.

He was extremely banged up— multiple wounds, bruises, and crushed shoulder bones. But it’s fixable, and that’s what Jackie’s focusing on.

In fact, he’s focusing on nothing else— he turned the return process for the children over to the authorities and he was ignoring the King’s request for them to have a meeting to discuss what the fuck even happened down there.

(At his sixth summons, Jackie sends him a message explaining it would be better to tell the story with Ran awake, in the hopes Porkius would not simply track down one of the children and interrogate it out of them.)

He’s so focused on it that the doctors are starting to become quite annoyed. Pony, who seems to be in charge of Ran’s recovery, gives Jackie a flat look when he asks how the patient is doing for what must be the billionth time, and signs that maybe he should go wait outside. For the record, Jackie does. For a few minutes.

He’s full of restless energy and has nowhere to put it, so he busies himself with making sure he’s ready for Ran to wake up.

He’s not really sure how he feels about that whole thing, either.

Outwardly, Jackie organizes the disarmament of his troops (off the King’s decree to pause their war preparations), making sure the trainees all know where to find him and where to show up for their weekly meetings, holding fast against their billion questions about when they can see the commander. Outwardly, he cleans his room, and then Ran’s, and goes through all of Watson’s stuff to submit for evidence as well. Outwardly, he brings the doctors supplies and stocks up on soft, easily digestible foods for when Ran’s awake.

But inwardly?

He feels a bit like that building hurricane has finally hit, and just left a town in wreckage behind.

Prodding the emotions in the mess is a great, effortful feat.

He’s worried; that’s an easy one to pin down. His fingers fidget in the hours and hours he spends at Ran’s bedside. His heart rate quickens when he inspects the injuries under the bandages as they’re being switched and cleaned.

The confusing one is the anger.

There’s something a bit like rage, stirring inside him. All he can do is retrace the steps that led up to this and find every fault, every mistake that so easily could have been avoided.

Why couldn’t Ran have told him about anything? Why couldn’t he have tried to explain himself? Why couldn’t he have chosen not to be a heroic, suicidal little shit?!

The strange wreckage of Jackies’ emotions lies untouched for the days they wait for Ran to wake up. The barren waste occasionally gives way to dry anger, and then goes back to numbness again.

He doesn’t know what to do. But he’s mad.

Not exactly mad that Ran tried to kill him— sure, that’s kind of annoying, but it’s not as if people don’t try to kill Jackie all the time. He’s mad that Ran was so diabolical about it. That he wriggled his way into Jackie’s heart before plunging the knife. That he was so good hearted that he apologized and then immediately sprinted right into doom.

Essentially, Jackie is mad at Ran for all of the things that aren’t actually his fault.

He doesn’t know what to do, except let this feeling prick uncomfortably under his skin and let himself wonder what he’s even supposed to say to Ran when he can.

Does he thank him for his actions, yell at him for worrying him? Tell him they shouldn’t speak to each other ever again?

He runs over different scenarios a billion times. Questions to ask, insults to hurl, self defenses to spew, confessions to make– so many things to say. So many unresolved pieces. One thing repeats in his mind like a mantra: Why?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

He’s not sure anything he could say would be enough, to say it all.

In the end, he’s less ready than he expected.

When Ran finally wakes up, Jackie is sitting in his chair with his head tilted back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He hears the blanket moving first– the almost unnoticeable shuffling of the hospital bedding, and his head shoots up to lock onto a pair of— although maybe less bright than usual— definitely alive, definitely green eyes.

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

Jackie opens his mouth, prepared to launch a tirade.

Ran, upon finally registering him, does something akin to a wince.

“Oh,” he says, and looks away.

This baffles Jackie so much that for a second he just stares at Ran, who continues to sit there, resolutely not meeting his gaze.

“Oh?” Jackie repeats finally, coming out of the shock. “Oh? Is that it? Is that really all you can say to me?”

Ran sighs. And if Jackie isn’t mistaken, he sighs with some goddamn attitude too.

“I never claimed to be good at this,” he mutters, and this time, there’s a detectable amount of guilt in his tone.

“... Oh,” Jackie responds.

They both sit in the room in silence. Ran stares down at the sheets clenched in his one hand. Jackie stares down at his foot, which is tapping out a silent and incredibly fast beat on the floor.

The many things Jackie had wanted to say died on the tip of his tongue the moment Ran started speaking. The wind has gone out of his sails, and so he sits there, awkward.

It only takes a second to come to his senses.

You thought he was dead just a little bit ago, you idiot. Surely you have figured something out about not letting the time go to waste.

“Why did you do it?” Jackie blurts, before he can think better of it.

Ran lifts his chin (which looks like it takes a lot more effort than usual) and stares at Jackie. Jackie’s not even sure which thing he’s asking about right now.

Why did you decide to kill me? Why did you sacrifice yourself like some heroic idiot? Why did you look at me like you’re doing right now before you k– tried to stab me?

“I had to,” Ran says, very softly.

Jackie isn’t sure which thing he’s responding about either. Maybe none of those questions. Maybe all of them.

The door opens, and in enters Valentine, one of the doctors who’s been tending to Ran– and as soon as they see him awake, their eyes grow wide and they summon Pony, who summons the other doctors.

Jackie tries not to be annoyed that their conversation was interrupted. He fails at this and ends up acting snippy to the doctors for a moment, but he reminds himself that they’re just doing their jobs, and it’s easy for him to chill out after that. Ran, meanwhile, asks the doctors several questions about the whereabouts of the children he rescued. They assure him that everyone is home safe, and also direct him to the large pile of thank-you letters on the table beside the bed addressed to him. Ran seems embarrassed about this. He leafs through the letters without opening any of them.

Approximately three minutes later, King Porkius is bursting into the room– although “bursting” might just be how it feels to Jackie, since the king is actually remarkably calm.

He sits down in the chair across the room from Ran, waving for most of the doctors to disperse. They all do, except for Pony, who continues to monitor Ran and his test results now that he’s awake.

“So,” says King Porkius, “I’m sure we all want to know what happened down in those mines last chapter, right?”

“Of course, sir,” Ran mumbles rather weakly. Jackie feels himself grow suddenly defensive of Ran, despite wanting to know the exact same information. God, what is wrong with him? Is this what affection does?

Possibly it’s also what the fear that someone you know was dead does.

“Well?” the King prods. “You gonna… answer that question?”

Ran’s ear twitches, and he visibly tenses. After a moment, he starts telling the story.

“Watson had been kidnapping and collecting children in order to test the long-term effects of the substance phobium on sapiens,” he rattles off, entirely no-nonsense. Jackie is almost impressed how quickly he’s able to get into business-report mode, effectively giving them all the information they needed within a few short statements. “However the effects he allowed them to experience— I would categorize as painful, if not torturous. The entire scheme was a set-up to gain the attention of the deity he believed would open a portal for him– Nightmare.”

“Oh, wow,” Jackie murmurs, wincing. Religious fanatics.

“He wasn’t a fanatic,” said Ran, as if responding to the thought. “He had discovered an ancient magic and believed an ancient being would be able to activate it.”

Porkius began to look distinctly more uncomfortable as Ran went on. Jackie felt a little bad for him. He had seemed close to Watson, after all.

“I destroyed the portal, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone else to make Watson’s same mistake. I recommend you keep people away from the area. I recovered all of his research. It’s stored in safe cabinets and crates, so you can dig it out of the wreckage.”

Jackie’s eyebrows raised slightly. Ran had actually done a great deal of work down there. While… you know, concussed and kidnapped.

He’s duly impressed.

“That’s a good amount of work, on top of rescuing all of the children who were missing,” Porkius points out, sharing Jackie’s thoughts.

Ran’s head falls back onto his pillow, and with a slightly defeated expression, he clears his throat once more.

“There’s something else.”

“Yeah?” Jackie asks, interrupting Porkius as he starts to respond. The king looks confused by this, but not enough to order his head chopped off or anything.

Ran’s gaze slides over to Jackie somewhat obviously. “I’m an assassin.”

“An assassin?” Porkius repeats somewhat dryly, while Jackie feels his heart drop into his stomach.

Stupid, stupid, stupid– why did he think the caves would be the end of the self-sacrificial nonsense?!

“Former assassin,” Ran corrects after a second, and Jackie’s mental train of thought catches and abruptly stops at that statement.

“Yeah, so, here’s the thing,” Porkius drawls. “General Brackett’s been almost-assassinated pretty recently, I don’t know if you’ve heard of that? Strangely, it seems to match up with your disappearance shortly before being kidnapped.”

Ran winces and looks at his sheets again.

The king sighs and hunches slightly, resting his elbow on his knee and pinching at the bridge of his nose. “So what you’re doin’ here is admitting treason, actually. Like, very high treason. If I had a scale that went from ‘mildly illegal’ to ‘yeah that’s actually a pretty reasonable use of the Subbin death penalty’, you’d kind of be on the far end of the wrong side, here.”

Ran does not answer, which only prompts King Porkius to roll his eyes.

“You say ‘former’ assassin?”

“Yes,” Ran responds quickly and firmly. There’s an angry furrow in his brow that Jackie doesn’t think has to do with anyone in this room.

Porkius circles his hand in a small, impatient gesture, which takes Ran a second to realize means he’s supposed to go on.

“I destroyed their means of spying on and communicating with me,” he says matter-of-factly, whilst Jackie feels a bit like ice water had been spilled on him. “They won’t be coming back.”

The king just stares at him for a few seconds before gustily exhaling. “This is what I get for being a side character I guess,” he mutters, before standing. “General, I trust you can have a full informative report written for me on these events?”

Jackie stands up at being addressed. “Uh, sure!”

“Great. Have that sent to me when you can. I’m out for right now, but I will get back to you two when this guy’s not bedridden.” Porkius waves towards Ran as he says that, and then he exits the room with no more preamble.

After a moment of silent deliberation, Pony decides to follow him, although they leave a small card of directions on Ran’s bedside.

Jackie stares dumbfounded at the door for a few extra moments, before he whirls on Ran.

“What? How? Why? What?”

Ran grimaces and shifts one shoulder uncomfortably. “Long story.”

Jackie sits down again, almost violently, staring at Ran with a burning intensity.

“Well. I’ve got time,” Jackie says tersely. “So, why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Then, something else hits him, and before Ran manages to speak, Jackie adds– “I’m glad you’re alive, by the way. You had me worried.”

Ran flashes him something like a shy smile, and immediately Jackie knows that no matter what this story is about, he’s going to have a hard time letting him ever go again.

“Well. To start, I come from an island called Terminus.”

“Aren’t you allergic to water?” Jackie interrupts, frowning as he tries to work out the logistics and danger of that.

Ran’s tail flicks out from under his sheets, which is both so familiar and hilarious that Jackie is distracted by the overwhelming emotion.

“Not that kind of island,” Ran explains tiredly. “I come from a different dimension, entirely, actually. Where the endermen live. In that dimension, land floats, and there is no sun.”

Jackie pictures something in his head like the storybook tales of space, or the moon. “Go on.”

Ran rubs the fabric of the sheet in between his fingers. “I don’t look like most endermen. I was spawned wrong. Most endermen ignored me… they all ignored most things, anyway, they were like drones.” He frowns. “The Council took me in and let me have a job working for the Order. Our island is separated from all of the others– the Council wanted to build portals to fix that, but it could only be done by a sapient hero who came to rescue us. So they have Order members visit the Overworld to push a grand plan into action, one that sends a human to Terminus.”

Jackie raises his eyebrows, but manages to hold his tongue. Ran looks sadly out the window.

“I… feel a little bad that I probably trapped everyone there by irreversibly fucking up their plan, but… The Council wanted me to kill you. And they didn’t– they don’t respect people and I’ve just been thinking recently that people deserve– I don’t know.” He cuts himself off miserably.

Before Jackie has the chance to think better of it, he says the thing he’s been meaning to say.

“Why?”

Ran looks up from his hand in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why didn’t you want to kill me?”

Ran’s eyes dart away from Jackie’s, as they always eventually do. He can only manage to hold the contact for a minute or two on a good day.

“Because I don’t think you deserve to die.”

Jackie’s fists clench, because that’s so much and yet at the same time, not enough, not what he wanted.

“And?”

Ran holds himself firm, but his face begins to turn slightly green.

“And I’ve gotten pretty attached to you.”

“Attached,” Jackie repeats incredulously. What does attached mean? Does it mean he would rather him be alive to continue to work as the General? Or does it mean something more along the lines of he couldn’t bear to live without Jackie? Anything, anything at all that was… more?

Maybe that second option was a little bit too much, but Jackie’s been through a lot, he can have thoughts that are a little ‘too much’ if he wants to, dammit.

He did say ‘to you’. To you, to you.

Jackie wonders for a moment how it must’ve felt to struggle against a power that spied on your whole life. How it might have felt to have to stand up to something so all-powerful, with such authority… all because you no longer agreed with them. All because you had grown… attached.

“Yeah,” Ran repeats. A wave of relief crashes through Jackie, but he manages not to say anything. And Ran looks tired and sad and absolutely pitiful, so maybe Jackie won’t press him any more on this, no matter how muddled up he absolutely still feels.

It’s kind of the least of his worries anyway, what with the whole assassination business they still have to work out.

Instead, he sits with Ran and helps him open the letters left to him. A lot of them are written by extremely thankful and emotional parents, but a few of them are written by the kids themselves– messy and childish but clearly just as thankful. Jackie tears up reading a few of them. He’s been working for months now to help bring these families back together– it’s beyond heartwarming and relieving to finally see that happen.

After that, Pony comes back and shoos Jackie out so that the patient can actually rest. But his mind is whirling in all sorts of new colors than the day before.

The second he’d actually talked to Ran, all of the anger had melted away, and left in its place the residue of guilt and fear and relief. Maybe even affection.

What was he supposed to do? Being angry wasn’t good enough, but Jackie didn’t know how else to feel.

He couldn’t yet fully handle the reality of how much he liked Ran. Even now, he didn’t even consider that the assassin might have been lying about quitting his job. Jackie just trusted him too much, and too easily.

—

Back in the present, Jackie leads Ran into the castle again in response to the King’s summons, the motorcycle funeral giving him a strange sense of calmness he hadn’t had before. Of course, he’s losing that calmness just from being around Ran, who makes his nerves buzz with emotional sparks at all times.

The doctors only allowed Ran outside in the first place because he and Jackie had a summons from the king.

It’s his first time waking around since the recovery and the surgery and all of that. But it’s not even close to the first time Ran and Jackie have had to awkwardly attempt to hold a conversation in the past week.

Yesterday, Jackie had insisted that Ran contribute to the paper he was supposed to turn in to Porkius about the true details of the case. He’d already written everything he knew, of course– all of the research he’d spent his free time doing while he was working as General, and all of the fieldwork Ran had assisted with.

And now, hours later, Jackie and Ran have their most awkward walk yet to the throne room.

Jackie wonders what Ran is thinking. Does he worry that Jackie’s going to judge him, or scorn him? Is he only thinking about the King’s announcement?

Ran’s gotten his cane, so he doesn’t need Jackie’s help to walk the halls. They stride in matching time, and in matching silence, until they reach the end of the hall and hear the giggling.

Ran and Jackie both snap out of their mental stupors as a blonde girl with pigtails crashes into Ran to hug him.

“Ran!” Clementine yells. “I hear you’re in big trouble with the King.”

Ran slides his cane under his armpit so he can pat her on the head. Jackie smiles, watching as Scoots comes around the corner, breathless but trying not to show it.

“Sorry about her!” Scoots laughs. “She’s an annoying little twat again, I suspect she never exactly forgot how to be.”

“Nope,” Ran confirms, which makesClementine whack him in the stomach.

“You look like a little old lady in those hospital robes!” Clementine mocks. “When are you getting out of there, anyway? Scoots has to show you the new plane!”

Ran looks at Scoots in surprise, and she blushes modestly.

“Oh, well, the King wanted to give us some sort of apology payment,” Scoots shrugs. “I told him nobody gives me flight jobs, because, you know.” She lifts her shoulders to make the limp yellow wings on her back move slightly. “He said he’d get me a plane himself!”

“That’s… really cool!” Jackie congratulates, already wondering what the political angle was here. It could make a nice touching story for the newspapers, at least.

“Isn’t it!” Clementine harps, backing away from Ran to stand next to her sister again. “I bet it’ll be cooler when she crashes the damn thing!”

“I will not,” Scoots retorts hotly, and. This must be a long-running debate. Ran gives Jackie an amused look that says he’s figured the same thing.

“Well, we’ll get out of your hair now,” Scoots apologizes, grabbing her sister by the hand.

They wave as they pass Jackie and Ran in the hallway. After a moment, they’re gone.

The two are left alone once again, and they awkwardly avoid eye contact until they enter through the doors to the throne room.

“Ah, there you are!” King Porkius calls instantly from where he’s seated on the far side of the room. “What took you so long?”

“We ran into Scoots and Clementine in the hallway, sir,” Jackie explains, and Ran comes into position beside him. The king chuckles.

“Oh, yes. They’re excited about that plane thing. I hope they know that’s a one-time thing…” he shuffles some papers near him, frowning as he looks at them. “I’m going to try to implement some kind of… money that everyone gets automatically. Because I was talking to my advisors about how to fix the problem of disabled unemployment, and they couldn’t come up with a single way to get someone money if they don’t work for it.”

Jackie opens his mouth to comment, but Porkius the Seventh barrels on, hardly paying attention.

“And so I said to them, I was all like, well I take breaks all the time when I’m feeling sick or just mentally incapable and so do you guys, so, what’s up with that? And they start droning about the benefits of high jobs and crap like that.” Porkius taps his head, to portray to Ran and Jackie how he’d had an idea. “But the people can’t get those high jobs if they can’t even get the low jobs! And if nobody’s getting jobs then nobody’s working, and I’m now starting to see why our empire is failing economically.”

He lifts the papers and slams them down with a crack that makes both of them jump. “So in the end I just said I’d move a bunch of money from the highest jobs to construct some kind of guaranteed payment for being a Subbin citizen. Of course, they were mad about that because it means I’m not following their trickle-down theory anymore, but I’m the King, aren’t I? I’ll do whatever I want. Maybe I even should get some new advisors.” He looks up expectantly at Ran and Jackie, having apparently finished his tale.

Jackie tries to break the silence, almost too shocked to come up with something to say. “Oh, you mean, like, a Universal Basic Income, your majesty…?”

“What? General Brackett, I thought I told you not to mention communism in my palace. Anyway, moving on,” Porkius beckons the two of them closer, so they step forward. “I’ve decided what to do about this whole enderman thing.”

Ran flinches, and bows his head expectantly.

“I’m willing to accept whatever punishment you’ve decided I deserve for crimes against the empire,” Ran says, clearly and carefully, like he’d practiced.

Jackie bites his lip. Ran may be prepared, but he isn’t. In fact, he’d thought telling the King about the assassination thing was a really stupid move, but it’s not like he really had time to say anything about it. Now is the moment of truth.

“Oh, yes, the punishment,” Porkius drawls, lifting one very small note of paper out of the rest and squinting at it. “Your punishment is, uh… ten diamond stacks.”

Ran just kind of stares at him. Jackie, meanwhile, jumps into business mode.

“Ten stacks? Really? For the safety of Subbin’s youth? It’s like you don’t even care about the children, Your Highness.”

Porkius narrows his eyes. “Don’t push it, General.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Ran gapes like a goldfish. “I don’t understand.”

“You risked your life to save a bunch of kids, Ran,” Jackie explains helpfully.

“I see,” Ran says, and then he doesn’t say anything else.

“That’s pretty much all I wanted to talk to you about,” Porkius confirms, going back to all his papers. He starts rambling on about some other thing. Jackie just watches Ran stare at his feet.

Eventually, Jackie nudges Ran’s shoulder. He starts and glances up, meeting Jackie’s eyes for a second before coming back. Jackie thinks about saying something grand and beautiful that could let Ran know everything is all right now, and will probably continue to be all right for the foreseeable future.

“We’re cool,” is all he manages to say.

“... We are,” Ran agrees, with a very small smile.

“And then I told Doctor Flowers that he can’t just let people have unadministered access to whatever scientific files we have, because that’s against the rules, but he didn’t seem to care at all!” Porkius goes on, oblivious to their conversation. “Honestly, between us, I think he intentionally messes up stuff like that because he hates me.”

“A lot of people do, so that’s probably common,” Ran points out in a voice like he’s trying to be helpful. Then he blanches and covers his face with his hand. Jackie tries not to smile.

Porkius rolls his eyes. “You’re probably right. Okay, off with you two, can’t you see I’m very busy?”

—

Jackie didn’t think it would be a good idea for Ran to go out to the arena to meet the trainees. He was still recovering, and he was obviously exhausted.

But Jackie could also sense the restless energy from the gaggle of them from miles away. And he was smart enough to realize that the longer he kept them apart, the worse it would get.

Ran probably wanted to hear from them, too– he’d been subtle about it but that’s what Jackie thought.

So if he happened to let slip to one of the more loudmouthed recruits where he and Ran would be this afternoon, well, that was hardly his bad.

They’re walking through the courtyard– the steady clunk, clunk, of Ran’s cane accompanying their pace– when suddenly Joey rounds the corner into the sunlight.

He freezes, then points at Ran with a wordless shout of excitement. Ran stands and stares right back, eyes wide like he might be expecting an attack. And he isn’t entirely wrong, because two seconds after Joey yells, about thirty recruits come crashing into the courtyard to meet him.

Ran stumbles backwards a few steps, and Jackie shouts for everyone to give him breathing room, but mostly they don’t touch him. They all just crowd around him and start exclaiming, shouting, speaking all over one another. Mash starts telling Ran what a ‘brave young man’ he’d been, and April tells him how scared she’d been, and this all goes on until someone who’d been stuck in the middle of the crowd makes themselves violently known.

“Commander Aetherman!” shrieks Gyre. He launches himself over Razz and sprints directaching arms, catching him into a crushing hug.

Jackie steps forward, not knowing if he should intervene, but then Ran drops his cane and returns Gyre’s hug just as tightly. The two of them hold on for a few extra moments, undeterred by the thousands of questions everyone is still asking.

When they finally separate, Gyre wipes his eyes on one hand and holds tightly onto Ran’s robe with the other for the rest of the afternoon. Ran doesn’t seem to mind.

Jackie smiles at the lot of them, and then his heart almost breaks as he realizes what the responsible thing is to do now.

—

“We need to talk,” Jackie says as soon as they shut the door to Ran’s room.

The room itself is dark, and cold. Jackie flicks on the light, but all that’s illuminated is the sad collection of Ran’s bed and “belongings” (the weaponry he’d brought along). For a second, he is so stunned by the blast into the past he can’t say anything else. It feels like he was in here just yesterday– everything is exactly as he left it– and yet he knows it’s been ages since anyone set foot in here. After a minute, Jackie can finally look up at Ran again.

Ran probably thinks he’s managing to keep his face very straight, but all the spikes down his back lift in very obvious alarm.

“So, I, uh… what are your thoughts?” Ran mumbles, seating himself on the bed. His eyes are downcast. His face is statuesque, as usual. Jackie feels an overwhelming urge to rush at him and wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tightly, never letting him go again.

Jackie sighs. He needs to be realistic about this, no matter what he wants to do right this second.

“I think… we need time apart.”

Ran flinches, but he nods, drawing his tail in closer to himself. Lines of exhaustion are evident under his eyes– Jackie remembers this is the first time he’s walked around for a day in a week or two. He doesn’t say anything.

“Before you assume it’s because I hate you, it’s not that,” Jackie assures him, and Ran’s green eyes flick up curiously. “It’s because I need to figure out what I actually want and being around you isn’t really helping.”

Ran’s face becomes a little more green, but he keeps listening. Jackie goes on.

“We need some distance, to figure ourselves out for a bit. Especially me, I need to make sure I wasn’t just, you know, infatuated, or…” Realizing that’s a bad way to say it even if it’s true, Jackie cuts himself off. “I think it’d just be best if we tried to stay away for a bit.”

Prime, does it hurt. Why would he willingly do this to himself? It’s not like he even has anyone else.

Stick to it, Jackie scolds himself. You’re better than that.

He knows for a fact that for days, he’s going to be taking the puzzle apart in his head and putting it back together. He’s going to run through the facts, through the experiences. He’s going to think about being a mutated member of your own species and being forced to do terrible things for people who don’t respect you. He’s going to think about how brave Ran was to finally cut himself out of that chain, to have the final say.

He doesn’t know what conclusion he’ll come to, just yet. But he knows that things might not be as complicated as they seem, once he untangles them.

“I can be professional,” says Ran softly. Then he laughs, but his laugh almost sounds like choking. “I mean, it’s what I’ve always done anyway.”

That’s not exactly healthy-sounding, Jackie thinks, but it’s kind of too late now. He’s not worried, though. Ran will work himself out, too.

They both will.

It’ll be okay.

--

Ran Aetherman has been to zero other weddings in his life.

He isn’t exactly sure what goes into planning them. He’s hardly even sure what goes on at them.

One thing he is sure of, though, as he threads trim very carefully, is that this bride is outrageously fussy.

That’s what Tasmin had said, after the lady with her long dark hair had sat in their shop for upwards of three hours hemming and hawing over each type of thread and fabric they showed her. It’d been ages before her soon-to-be-spouse convinced her to try Tasmin’s recommendation.

Ran loves his job, really; but in his opinion, that is just ridiculous.

His job– well, his second job, technically, although he doesn’t get paid for being the army commander– had been a brilliant idea. Ran made clothes all the time, after all, why not make them for other people?

Although keeping away from Jackie makes him feel a bit like a version of him died, Ran hasn’t minded growing into this new version of himself. This new version has friends, for instance– the trainees, the parents of the rescued children, the frequent tailor visitors. Even people on the street sometimes recognize him and wave to him. It’s… nice. It’s a feeling of belonging, of community, that Ran’s never experienced before.

“Aetherman!” Tasmin shouts from the front of the shop, and Ran jumps so hard he hits his head on one of the beams above.

He massages the sore spot, frowning, and after a second, Tasmin comes into view, holding up their skirt as they step over the masses of orange fabric on the floor (deciding what the bridesmaids would wear took almost as long).

“What?” Ran asks testily. Normally he tries to be polite to his boss, but the head injury is making him understandably cross.

“Loverboy’s here,” Tasmin announces casually, picking up one of the orange dresses and clucking their tongue, and making Ran turn bright green. “He’s loitering.”

“Oh– I’m sorry, I’ll just–” Ran stands up quickly, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the beam again, and rushes to the entrance.

Sure enough, outside their little store stands Jackie Brackett. His General’s coat is slung over one arm, and he’s wearing a blue bow tie– which Ran recognizes with a flutter in his chest as being from something he’d made himself last week.

“Are you free, or is Tasmin being especially ornery today?” Jackie asks with a sunny grin. His hair has gotten even curlier in recent months, and he’s stopped trying to tie it out of his face as much. His glasses are perched on top of his head, probably because he thinks that looks cooler than being able to actually see.

“Actually, I think they’re in a good mood,” Ran says, brushing off his work apron.

“Oh, good. Then come on a walk with me.”

Ran grimaces, checking his watch (which is on his right wrist, since the temporary prosthetic of his left arm doesn’t really have a wrist, it’s just poles). “Now?”

“Why not? Come on, there’s a storm coming,” Jackie hedges with a glimmer in his eye.

Ran’s tail flicks to one side, half amused and half annoyed.

Jackie smiles, knowing from Ran’s face that he’s won.

“...Fine, let me clock out.”

Ran walks back into the shop, and before he even opens his mouth, Tasmin whirls on him with a glare. “What, too good to stay the rest of your shift?”

“Well, I—”

“This is because you like him. Why do you not just ask him out already? You know, when I was your age, we just asked people we liked out.”

Very green, Ran continues to attempt to get a word in edgewise, despite over a month’s of experience telling him this is futile. “It’s more complicated than that–”

“Blah blah blah blah, I see the disgusting goo-goo eyes you two make. Complicated schomplicated.” They continue measuring a large cut of silk, frowning. Their tail swishes to the side. “You may go. But remember about how I’m right!”

Ran sheepishly ducks his head. Of course, it’s true that he likes Jackie still. And of course, even though they hardly interact outside of business, other people can see it. It makes him nervous to have it pointed out, though. Not when he’s so afraid of baring these feelings to Jackie himself. “Thanks, Tasmin.”

“Whatever!”

Ran leaves to join Jackie, and the two of them go out to the hills beyond the edges of Subbin, where they sit down to wait for the storm.

The air is cold, the sky dark and cloudy. Ran shrugs on the poncho he made himself, and Jackie crosses his legs gleefully.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Jackie laughs. “Man, it’s nice to see a storm.”

“Me neither,” Ran mumbles, but he means it in a bit of a different way. Before he can think better of it, he adds, “Last time there was a storm, you fell.”

Jackie smiles wryly. “But last time, you caught me.”

Ran turns away, frustrated, and digs his claws into the grass.

He’s been keeping his distance! He acts friendly but not too friendly at work, he doesn’t stare during training. They collaborate on teaching plans but they don’t talk much deeper than that. They have information meetings, sometimes. Ran always leaves slightly earlier than everyone else, so Jackie won’t feel like he’s being followed on his way home.

He doesn’t want to scare him. It would make sense if Jackie was scared of him, hell, he tried to murder him. But Jackie keeps pestering him, which totally throws off all of Ran’s work of the past month. How will Jackie ever trust him again if he can’t be respectful of boundaries? What does Jackie want from him?

…What does he want from Jackie?

He’ll take anything Jackie is willing to give him. He can take the professional distance, he can take acquaintances, he can take friends. He can take all of that. But what does he want?

To know everything about him, Ran’s brain supplies uselessly. To follow him to the ends of the earth.

Well, that’s not helping him figure out what he or what Jackie wants right now.

Jackie’s eyes catch Ran’s for a moment, and the General frowns, turning to face him. “What’s got you sour?”

Ran pushes his claws into the rare grass below them, sighing.

“Why are we doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Ran waves one hand out. “Why are we hanging out?”

Jackie tilts his head, frowning deeper. “Do you… not want to hang out?”

Ran almost laughs, but instead coughs. “No! Nightmare, I just… It’s only been a month, Jackie. Weren’t we supposed to give ourselves time to think?”

Jackie’s eyes narrow. “I have thought about it. I mean, I kinda figured me hanging around all the time made it obvious what I decided.”

Ran’s heart leaps so hard at the implications that it might as well have been flung right out of his chest. Energy shoots up his bones until his fists clench in the earth.

When Ran can finally muster up words, he blurts out, “Why?”

“Why?”

“I–” Ran tears his gaze away from Jackie’s intense and even one. “I tried to kill you, you know.”

Jackie grins. “I know. I was there.”

“...Aren’t you scared of me?”

Jackie stares at Ran with wide, wide eyes. He looks so incredulous that Ran almost feels embarrassed for asking such a question in the first place.

“Scared of you?” Jackie repeats like it’s something ridiculous. Then he laughs. “Dude, what? No. I told you, I want to be here–”

“That’s not what I mean, though,” Ran interrupts. “You can want something and still be frightened of it.”

Jackie smiles softly and fondly. There’s a rumble overhead as the storm grows nearer.

“I know what you mean. Scared I’m going to die, or something like that? No, I’m not. I never have been, dumbass. I always knew you were trying to kill me. Practically the whole time! If it bothered me that much, we wouldn’t be here.”

Ran curls into himself, frowning. “But you did wear armor under your clothes.”

Jackie’s smile falters. “Yes, that…” He sighs. “I’ve had a habit of wearing armor under my clothes since I was fourteen years old.”

He reaches over and knocks on Ran’s head with his knuckles. “That didn’t start because of you, and it’s not going to end because of you either. I have a life outside of you, you know.”

Ran lets himself laugh. The clouds grumble even louder, threatening to start their downpour any minute.

Jackie plucks a weed flower out of the ground and twirls it between his fingers. “I’ve always, my whole life, been paranoid of everyone. That’s not new. I actually feel less paranoid with you than I do anyone else, because you’ve prove–” Jackie flushes and drops the flower. “Well, I’m not scared of you anyway. Are you satisfied?”

Ran thinks. After a moment, he smiles. “Yes. Thank you.”

He tracks the progress of the little weed as it tumbles in the breeze. He thinks of himself, caught up in the rush of a new life where he has millions of people to pay attention to instead of just five of them. It’s a little bit overwhelming

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Ran asks, his ears flicking as the winds pick up.

“No,” Jackie snorts. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have a bit of a black thumb. I can’t touch flowers. They’ll die.”

“Really?” asks Ran curiously, and Jackie starts going on about the garden he’d once tried to tend. There’d been many things wrong with it, including but not limited to: sudden lack of sunlight, the water drying up, the plants refusing to be moved, and a large number of bees (Jackie absolutely loathes bees).

They keep talking, as the rain eventually pours down. Ran complains about the extremely fussy bride he’s working with, and Jackie tells him how he’d ran into Gyre and his mothers at the market and Gyre had bragged all about the cool moves the General and Commander had helped him learn. Ran smiled at that.

Jackie also informs Ran that he’d got a letter from the King, possibly a response to Ran’s theory about the underground portal, which he wanted to check still worked. He still felt incredibly guilty about dooming his entire race, and wanted to see if there was some way to still acquire their freedom– some way that didn’t involve enabling a mad scientist’s complete disregard for ethics.

They talk about modifications to make to Ran’s in-progress second arm (still unfinished in Jackie’s workshop, which is why Ran is using the pole arm for now). Ran even complains about teaching the trainees how to do a backflip– because now they think it’s funny to do so whenever they pass him on the street and it’s resulted in many a bodily injury.

“Did you know Clementine calls us boyfriends?” Ran wrinkles up his nose. “Is she allowed to do that?”

“I don’t think Clementine is really concerned about what she is and isn’t allowed to do,” Jackie points out reasonably. “But I get what you mean. I’ve always liked partners better. Because we’re work partners, you know? Or it sounds like we’re committing a crime.”

Ran feels his skin prickle with some strange combination of embarrassment and excitement at the implication Jackie is making, but rolls his eyes at that last comment. “It’s just such an intense word, that’s all.”

“Please,” Jackie scoffs. “There’s more intense words out there!”

“Oh?”

Jackie sits up, rivulets of rain going down his nose and soaking into his skin. “How about soulmate?” He flutters his eyelashes overdramatically. “That’s some romantic crap for sure.”

Ran makes a disgusted face and Jackie starts laughing.

But that’s what we are, aren’t we? Ran realizes like being hit in the face. We are all that… dumb, romantic crap. Isn’t that what Jackie is saying?

Jackie, perhaps seeing Ran’s expression, elbows him gently. “We’re… yeah. I mean. Can we be?” He sounds a little uncertain, the cockiness from just a moment ago dissipated.

Ran huffs near deliriously. “Yes. Yes, we can.”

They both fall silent for a long, long moment, and Ran stares out into the distance as the rain patters loudly against his poncho.

“What’s up?” Jackie asks eventually, and Ran just takes a deep breath.

“...Sometimes, I can’t believe I’m free.”

Jackie turns to look at him, and Ran looks back. And then one of them starts laughing, and pretty soon both of them are laughing, and after a moment they’re embracing and leaning in and pressing kisses to their faces but still laughing too much. The rain turns them into its own personal drum as it empties out months of unshed water onto their heads.

Tomorrow, Ran and Jackie might open that letter from the king. And inside it, they might find permission to use the king’s royal armory to arm themselves with whatever they might need for their journey, and permission to access the lab stores of nether equipment. And after that, they might start a new journey, one to an entirely different dimension, or maybe more than one, in which, eventually, they’d have to fight an unimaginably large creature in order to attain a city’s independence.

But that is tomorrow.

Today, Ran lays in the slick dirt and grass, affectionately pressing his nose into Jackie’s rain-soaked curls.

If you ask him, he might say he’s pretty damn happy. But then again, if you ask Ran, he might not tell you anything at all, because he doesn’t particularly enjoy questions from strangers.

It doesn’t really matter if you ask him or not, though.

Ran has quite a lot of friends who can tell you exactly what you need to know.