Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You know what? Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I don’t wanna see you anymore, I don’t wanna work with you anymore, so get out. Leave!”

“And where the hell am I supposed to go?"

“Figure it out yourself, I don’t know! You can die on the streets, for all I care. Why am I supposed to care about what happens to the guy who almost just got us killed and-- and blew up our whole operation?”

“I told you already, it wasn’t my fault! You can’t just--”

“Gods, Nox.... Don’t even go there. I don’t wanna hear it.” There was a sigh. Then, she spoke again. “Why did I end up with a brother like you? You don’t even feel like one anymore.”

Another pause.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

That was the last conversation he’d had with his sister. Probably the last conversation he would ever have with her, if he was being realistic. And it hurt him so much, like a cut that just doesn’t seem to close, like a bumblebee’s sting on his heart. He couldn’t handle it.

Nox was sat on the edge of a rooftop, looking down at the street below. He watched people as they walked and went about their business, but the darkness of nighttime prevented him from making out the features of any of them. They proved themselves to be simple blank slates: Normal people, without a sense of self or purpose. Nothing compelled them to speak out, to rebel. They were just unwitting cogs in the machine.

That was what Lux would describe them as.

When his mind predictably went back to her, Nox heaved a sigh. He held his head in his hands. He hadn’t taken off his bandana and goggles yet – they brought him a sense of comfort, stupid though he knew it was. If he kept them, they would only remind him of his incompetence, how he’d lost the only family he had left. But they still comforted him. He couldn’t say how or why, they just did. Was that so bad?

Something in the back of his brain answered him, and it claimed, Yes, it was. Whether he believed that something or not was up for debate. And debate his conscience did. It left his ears ringing, but he had to admit, it was better than silence. Anything was better than silence, as he had found over the years. When he and Lux yelled at each other, he knew she still cared enough to give him any thought; when they were silent, he thought she hated his guts. Only now did he realize he wasn’t too far off.

He let out a quiet groan. He needed to keep his mind away from his sister and his team... his old team, he supposed. But what happened consumed his every waking thought. He didn’t feel particularly guilty about it – after all, it hadn’t been his fault –, but the weak reassurance didn’t stop regret from stewing in his chest.

How could he have been so blind as to not see the hero? How could he have stopped them from hurting the others? How could he have redeemed himself in the others’ eyes? How could he live without them? How could he, how could he, how could he?

He had never felt so lost before. He had no home, no family, no purpose now. Just a wandering soul, going along without rhyme or reason. What was the point? Perhaps to spite Lux; he’d show her, he wouldn’t just die on the streets. Or maybe it was hope that kept him from pushing himself off the ledge at that moment, hope that his former team would take him back one day. Even though he found it laughable, he clung onto the idea like a frightened child would a parent.

As he thought more and more about his two teammates, his melancholy turned into bitterness. Specifically, it turned into bitterness towards Rat. The man hadn’t said a word as Lux berated Nox; he’d just been trying to make himself a ghostly apparition standing off to the sidelines. Nox hadn’t noticed then, too caught in the heat of the moment, but as he now sat alone on a rooftop, he wished he could strangle Rat. He regretted not doing so earlier. Just another rue to add to the list.

He breathed in the crisp, cold air of the outside. It didn’t satisfy his lungs, though, so he sucked in more and more. After a moment, he realized he was holding his breath. He let it go, feeling his bandana flutter with the action. He found it hard to breathe with it on, but he made no move to pull it down.

He hoped he would suffocate.

That made him pause, surprised at himself for conjuring up the thought. He shook his head to dispel it from his mind, and he curled slightly into himself, moth wings embracing him.

His eyes were trained on the people below. He wondered what their stories were. They couldn’t have been blank slates like Lux suggested. They had to have dreams and aspirations. That man with the cane may have wanted to become a world-famous pilot or author. That teenager talking loudly on the phone may want to be a doctor when they grow up, and they might find the cure for some debilitating disease. Nox might not know their ambitions for sure, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any. He wished he could tell Lux that to her face.

He sat in silence for many minutes, the thoughts clamoring against the sides of his head being the only company he had.

But that changed, truthfully later than he would have liked, when his ears picked up the faintest sound of footsteps landing behind him. He at first thought he was hearing things, so he didn’t turn. And yet he felt eyes caving into his skull, plus an itch on the back of his neck that was only present when Nox knew he wasn't alone. His hair stood on end.

That was when whoever was behind him cleared their throat.

“Hey, handsome,” said the person, a hint of teasing coating their voice. “What’s a guy like you sitting alone on a rooftop for? Are you waiting on somebody, bug boy?”

“Does it matter?” muttered Nox, his wings hugging himself tighter. The figure behind him gave a half-scoff, half-laugh.

“I’d say so, yeah. How would I know if you’re the bloke I’m looking for otherwise?”

That made Nox falter. Slowly, he turned his body around, and he met eyes with the man’s porcelain, smiley-face mask. The man’s demeanor was unbothered, and the tip of a purple longsword in his hold rested languorously on the ground, one hand placed on his hip. Nox’s eyes widened a marginal amount; it clicked in his mind then just who this guy was.

Winsweep tilted his head. And somehow, the smile on his mask seemed to sharpen.

“There we are,” he said with a titter. He leaned in a bit closer. “Now, would you mind answering my question, please?”

It took Nox a moment to remember what said question had been. “No,” he replied, and he shifted in place some. “No, I’m not waiting for anything. I just came here to-- to....” He trailed off.

He could feel Winsweep’s observational gaze on him, like he was an ant pinned underneath a microscope. Nox’s mouth went dry, and he said nothing more. There came a hum of thought.

“Oh, well.” Winsweep shrugged. “It’s not like it’s that important to me.” He crossed his arms, and the air around him grew rather cheerful. “So, what’s your name, bug boy?”

Nox looked at the ground. For a long minute, all he did was think. He, Lux, and Rat hadn’t revealed their villain names yet, had they? They were just starting out, after all. And he would sooner push himself off the edge than give his real name to a vigilante of all people. He reassured himself that Winsweep would not know.

“Phrixus,” answered Nox. Then, before the vigilante could speak again, he continued, “And you’re Winsweep.”

“I sure am. You did your research on the area, then?” Winsweep sounded pleasantly surprised, for some reason, though Nox didn’t care enough to place it at the moment.

“Didn’t need to.” He allowed a touch of resentment into his tone. “You and your team are notorious enough for people to talk, you know.”

“Oh, stop it, you. You’re just flattering me.”

Nox scowled at Winsweep, and the vigilante seemed to notice his sour expression, since he took a brief pause and simply looked at Nox. Winsweep then whispered something unintelligible under his breath. Nox had no time to discern his words. They were no doubt just frivolous things, anyway.

When the silence stretched on for too long, Nox pushed past his uneasiness to ask, “What do you want from me?”

Winsweep, who had begun playing with the blade of his sword, dropped it to his side. He made a vague gesture in the air and announced flippantly, “It’s nothing too major, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just a little request on ‘behalf of Oceana’, or whatever formal shit Invictus said it was.” The last part was more of a mutter than anything else. Nox’s suspicions only grew.

“Well?” he snapped. “Let me hear it.” For a split second, he thought he saw Winsweep startle at his tone. But the other man laughing in his face dismissed any thought of it.

“Easy there, tiger,” taunted Winsweep, and he came a couple steps closer. “I’ll tell you. I just want to know something first. Is that all right?”

Nox hesitated then nodded. He didn’t trust Winsweep – or any vigilante, for that matter – as far as he could throw him. But he hadn’t done anything harmful yet. Not like how Rat said vigilantes would, were they to get their hands on an opportunity to do so. Nox still kept his guard up, however, and he stood still as Winsweep sat down beside him, the vigilante swinging his legs like he didn’t have a care in the world. A moment later, Winsweep looked at him.

“You look like you just got run over,” he commented, indicating to the entirety of Nox’s body. It was torn open and bruised, aching with every move Nox made. “Is there a reason for that?”

His tone sounded genuinely curious, but Nox wasn’t an idiot. He knew something more was beneath the surface. Yet Nox had never been the best liar, and he floundered for something to say in response to the sickly innocuous question.

“Uh, I--”

He swallowed, his moth wings coming up furl themselves around him some. But then, an idea popped into his head: Something that wasn’t exactly a lie yet wouldn’t reveal him to be an up-and-coming villain – a former up-and-coming villain.

“I was actually doing my first ever patrol,” he said, words slow and staccato. “Then, something went wrong, people got real mad at me, and... yeah. Now I’m here.”

Nox couldn’t tell if Winsweep believed him or not. But based on the vigilante’s soft hum of sympathy, he had hope that he did. Winsweep bumped his shoulder against Nox’s a second later.

“Well, I don’t mean to sound rude, mate,” he said, “but there’s no need to be so gloomy about that happening. Plenty of stuff goes wrong on patrols, and you’re not gonna please everybody. But that doesn’t mean you should go on some self-loathing spree every time it happens. You’ll never get anywhere like that.”

“You don’t understand.” Nox shook his head, frustrated. “That’s not it.”

“Then make me understand.”

For what could have been an hour, Nox just stared at Winsweep. Then, he scoffed and turned his head away, again staring down at the people on the sidewalk. His ears picked up on Winsweep huffing out a breath.

“Fine,” said the vigilante, sounding like a pouting child. “You can keep your secrets. It doesn’t bother me.”

Nox sighed, his wings relaxing fully onto the roof. His patience was boiling over. “Y’know, Winsweep, I don’t have all the time in the world. Tell me what you’re here for.”

Winsweep regarded him for a second more before he stood, right on top of the ledge. There was a skin-crawling noise as he dragged the tip of his longsword against the concrete; it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Nox wanted to look up at him, but his gaze stayed firmly on the sidewalk below. He hoped Winsweep would fall off. He hoped he’d get to see Winsweep’s dead body decorating the street.

But did he really?

“Oceana has an offer for you, Phrixus.”

Pulling his lips back, Nox met eyes with Winsweep – he thought he did, at least. Winsweep swung his longsword like he was swinging a yo-yo, acting just about as blithe as Lux said he was. Nox’s stomach churned. Winsweep, cocking his head to the side, began to walk along the edge as though he were on a tightrope.

“You seem capable,” continued the vigilante after a minute, and he paused in place before turning on his heel, stepping carefully back over to Nox. “And as I’m sure you know, Oceana isn’t at its... most powerful right now, admittedly. If we don’t want to fall, then we need more muscle. That’s where you would come in, bug boy.”

His voice strained, Nox questioned, “What do you mean?”

Winsweep stopped a mere foot away from him, looking down at the other with what very well could have been mockery. Except, when he spoke, there wasn’t a trace of such in his voice:

“We’d like to recruit you to join us. Invictus says he’s been watching you for a bit now, and he thinks you’d be a great fit for Oceana. Plus, I know you don’t really have anywhere else to go. Or am I wrong?”

Nox’s fists clenched. That was evidently answer enough for Winsweep.

“Exactly.”

The vigilante extended a hand to him.

“So, what do you say, Phrixus? Will you join us?”

Nox did and said nothing for a while, only peering at Winsweep’s gloved hand. He began to rise from his spot. As he did, he gently curled Winsweep’s hand into a fist and moved it back towards the vigilante.

“I hate to tell you,” started Nox, and there was an imperceptible amount of disdain in his voice, “but no. It’s not gonna happen; I’m not joining Oceana.”

He turned and started walking away, yet half a second later, he heard Winsweep trailing behind him. Obviously, he wanted to say something, but Nox interrupted him before he could get half a word out.

“Listen, Winsweep.” Nox spun around, staring Winsweep in the eye. “I don’t need to join you guys. I’m perfectly fine and-- happy where I am now. Cut your losses and leave me alone.”

“But you’re not.”

The assertion was simple, but it cut deep into an already open wound. He glared at Winsweep, saw how the vigilante had recoiled just a hair, and his hand gravitated to his dagger’s holster. Winsweep must have noticed, since his shoulders stiffened. His next words were more deliberate yet no less accusatory.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Winsweep poked at Nox’s chest. Nox resisted the urge to grab his wrist and force him away. “If everything was fine and dandy, you wouldn’t be acting like this, sitting on a roof all alone, looking like you were about to kill yourself. I’d bet that if you keep going at it on your own, nothing’s gonna change. You’ll just end up doing more harm than good.”

“And you think Oceana doesn’t harm?”

“I know Oceana doesn’t.”

Nox’s eyes narrowed. His moth wings began to vibrate slightly, and he crossed his arms as he hissed, “Why should I uproot my entire life to join you? Why should I sacrifice everything I’ve worked for? I know how Oceana operates. And I don’t want anything to do with it.” Nox turned away again, but Winsweep grabbed his arm before he could take a step.

“You’re already a vigilante, aren’t you?” he questioned. “Are you at least an Elite?” Grudgingly, Nox nodded. “That means you want to help people, then. Do you not?” Another nod, and Winsweep relinquished his arm.

“If you join Oceana, just imagine how much more you can help people. And once our plan is complete, we’ll be even more influential. We’ll be able to help even more people, with no one to stand in our way.”

A chill went down Nox’s spine.

“What are you planning to do?” he asked, quietly. Winsweep put his hands on his hips.

“I can’t exactly tell you that, not if you’re not on our side.”

Nox hung his head, his mind a battle zone with how cacophonous his thoughts and anxieties clashed against each other. He would be lying if he said Winsweep’s offer wasn’t at least a little bit tempting. But Lux and Rat had promised him the same thing: That the three of them would help people, would eradicate the tyrannical hold the EHA had on C’Essempii. He knew this.

He also knew, deep down in his chest, that they wouldn’t take him back. It left him only one choice if he wanted to still make a difference.

“I’ll hear you out,” conceded Nox. His hand settled on the holster of his dagger, and a moment later, he unsheathed the blade. He stalked closer to Winsweep, feeling a sort of satisfaction as the other stepped back. “But I just want to know if joining Oceana would even be worth my time.”

Nox pressed a button on his dagger’s handle, and the blade elongated to the size of a full-length sword, the hilt following a moment later. Winsweep eyed it before lifting his head back to Nox’s face.

“We’ll fight,” said Nox simply. “Best out of three. If I win, then you’ll leave me alone, and we’ll never see each other again. If you win, then I’ll join Oceana.” He let his weapon rest in front of him, the tip inches away from Winsweep’s feet. “Sound fair?”

Nox could practically feel the smirk that Winsweep sent him, and the vigilante widened his stance. He nodded, lifting his sword and pointing it towards Nox.

“You’re on, Phrixus,” he snickered.

Nox smiled back.

Chapter Text

The jingling of keys, the imperceptible click of a lock being opened, the creak of hinges that were long overdue for a replacement. Those were the only sounds that Nox heard as he opened the door to Oceana’s headquarters. The air was still and silent; not in the way it would be when anticipating something, but in the way a predator was when stalking prey. Brittle. Vicious.

Nox paused in the doorway and slowly peered from side to side. His ears didn’t pick up on anything: Not the faint chatter of breaking news coming down the hall from Will’s room, not a stray beep nor whirr of a fan from Invictus’, not sounds of a struggle from Winsweep’s, nothing. It was like the building was completely devoid of life. But Nox knew that wasn’t the case. This became clear when, just a few seconds later, footsteps started down the stairwell.

“Phrixus? ‘S that you?”

Nox cleared his throat and called out, “It is.”

Invictus came into view. The other vigilante took a pause when he saw Nox, his digitized face shifting from concern into slight relief, and his steps became more leisurely.

“Welcome back, Phrix,” he said, grinning lazily. He walked right in front of Nox and gave him a mock salute. “How’d patrol go?”

“Fine.” Nox fidgeted with the key ring before storing it away in his backpack, finally closing the door behind him. “Nothing too crazy happened. Same old, same old, honestly.”

Invictus snorted, the sound coming out as more of a computer glitch. “That’s good. Bet you needed a break from the craziness, eh?”

“You could say that.”

Words hung heavy in the air between them. Nox didn’t bother to look at Invictus’ face, his attention preoccupied with figuring out what to say next. Every time he thought he knew, his mind would go blank, sentence dying on the tip of his tongue, and he’d be back where he started. After a minute or so of contemplation, Nox decided to just start simple and spit out what needed to be:

“Has he talked yet?”

Like the flick of a switch, Invictus’ easy-going expression deflated. He crossed his arms with a despondent shake of his monitor.

“Nope,” sighed Invictus. “Not a word. And trust, me and Will have tried everything. It’s like he’s scared or somethin’. It’s really weird.” He hesitated for a split second. “I just don’t know who he’s scared of.”

“’Who’? Why who, specifically?”

Blinking, Invictus rubbed the back of his monitor, and his hand toyed with the buttons on it. His eyes briefly flickered up then went back to Nox. His voice dropped low, like he didn’t want anyone overhearing them.

“Like I said, it’s weird,” he muttered, leaning in a hair closer, “but there’s this villain we think he ran into. It messed him up and... left him spooked, I guess.”

Nox raised an eyebrow. “Being scared of a villain doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“I know. But you saw him that day, didn’t you?”

He had. It caused a bad taste in his mouth, the thought of it. He’d been left reeling with the juxtaposition of the sight of his teammate and all the memories he had of him.

All except for one. A recent one, at that.

Nox pulled his hood down, being careful not to tug on his antennae, and he peeled off his white goggles to properly look at Invictus. Only then did he realize just how fretful Invictus seemed. His screen was dimmer than usual, his normally animated eyes veering off to the side, the rare occurrence of a frown breaking his features. Hell, it was even his turn to patrol, but he hadn’t put his armor on yet. It wouldn’t take much brainpower to guess why he was so worried.

“Where’s Will?” asked Nox. Invictus motioned down the hall.

“He’s back in his room, doing Will things. Y’know how it goes with him.”

Nox cracked a smile, and he chuckled. “Guess I do.” He tilted his head a bit, looking Invictus up and down. Slowly, he questioned, “Are you sure you’re up for patrol, man? You’re--”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Fine as wine, Phrixus, don’t you worry!”

Nox paused. “If you say so.”

Invictus smiled at him, and he patted Nox on the back, slightly pushing him toward the stairwell. Although his demeanor was suddenly back to his regular, nonchalant one, his voice still held hints of tension.

He told Nox, “I think he needs some company,” and gestured upwards.

Invictus hadn’t even needed to utter a word, Nox’s feet already carrying him up the steps. Invictus said something more, and Nox sent a thumbs-up in response, but the words had been gibberish to his ears. His focus was solely on getting himself to the third floor.

The walk up the stairwell was slow, slower than it had ever been. Nox felt he was trudging through mud; each step was tentative and heavy. He tried to pick up the pace, but no matter how hard he wanted to push himself and move, he was forced into a slow trek. A moment later, he discovered he was white knuckling the railing. His entire left arm ached with the intensity of his grip. But he didn’t let go.

Movements like a zombie’s, Nox at last stepped onto the threshold of the third floor. Just as it was earlier, it felt like nobody was there in the building with him. It felt like nobody was behind that distinct oak door just around the corner, even though he knew someone was. He could feel the presence of his teammate, could hear muted wisps of breath if he strained his hearing enough. But perhaps it was only the wind flowing through an open window. Maybe his teammate, his friend, wasn’t there at all.

Nox shook the foolish thought away, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His eyes roamed, taking in the sight of the hallway. Over the years, he had grown to love it, to love everything Oceana’s base of operations had to offer, old and worn though the building was. It was his home, he supposed. He thought it was the best one he’d ever had. The memories made him smile. But as he grew closer to his destination, his smile turned into a weak grimace. His moth wings twitched on his backside. They hurt and strained with disuse.

He turned the corner and was met with a straight shot to his teammate’s room. Letting out a silent breath, he made his footfalls as accentuated as he possibly could, approaching the door carefully. He could feel the air of the corridor grow suffocating like he had planted face-first into a pillow. He was aware of the gentle rise and fall of his own chest. Breathing no longer came naturally: he had to regulate each one. It didn’t hurt, per se, but his stomach recoiled into itself.

Finally, he was only a step away from Winsweep’s room.

A numb feeling settled on Nox’s shoulders as he stood outside the door. He simply looked at it for a countless number of minutes, as though trying to memorize every detail of it down to the grooves of the wood and the small, indiscernible scratches on its surface. A few words were written on the door in marker, ones in Nox’s own handwriting: Emoji Boy with a smiley face above it. Nox had written it years ago while Winsweep was asleep, and the very next day, a nickname had appeared on his own door: Moth Man, along with a little doodle of a winged bug. Nox always grinned whenever he caught sight of it. Yet everything was different now.

He missed when he and Winsweep could chase each other in the halls, missed when they could banter while raiding the kitchen for snacks, missed when they could laugh gleefully and not have a care in the world. He missed back when times seemed so rough at the moment but now were simple bumps in the road.

Nox finally strayed his gaze from the written words to the doorknob. He outstretched his hand to grab it, then he stopped himself. His hand hovered in mid-air for a moment before it fell back to his side. A thousand thoughts consumed him as he stood there. But the most prominent of such thoughts was a deafening question:

What the hell had happened?

It was all a blur, a flurry of emotions he didn’t have the vocabulary to describe. It didn’t seem like real life. He knew very well that it was, though.

Two days ago, Nox went out searching. His teammate’s location hadn’t moved for almost an entire hour, and he’d been starting to get worried. And when he found him, he hadn’t at all expected the sight that greeted him:

Winsweep, normally so cocky and confident, curled up defenseless in a dingy alley and sobbing. Nox hadn’t even been able to understand him through his tears and gasps for air – Winsweep had been utterly inconsolable. He didn’t have his backpack nor any weapons on him, and to add yet another worry onto the pile, he’d been clutching a broken wrist close to himself, like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Nox was reminded of the day he and Winsweep encountered that creature – the Warden, his friend had called it. But Nox hadn’t given the thought much more than a fleeting second of deliberation.

Now, standing outside Winsweep’s room, he was going to get answers. One way or another, he’d get the answers he’d been craving ever since that day with the Warden.

Slowly, he brought his hand up again and racked his knuckles against the door.

“Win?” called Nox, though not too loud. “Hey, you up?”

It took a moment, but eventually, Winsweep’s voice carried over.

“I’m here,” he said. His voice was softer than Nox had ever heard it. It made him frown.

“Can we talk, just for a minute?”

There was a long and audible period of hesitation. Nox heard faint shuffling coming from the other side of the door and what sounded like a small, defeated sigh.

“Sure. All right.”

Nox couldn’t even allow himself a smile, and he nodded then took a step closer to the door. He thought carefully about his next words. In all fairness, this was most likely farther than Invictus and Will had gotten with Winsweep. He couldn’t miss his chance.

After a second, Nox let out his own sigh.

“What happened two days ago, Win? And don’t say nothing. Don’t lie to me.”

Silence rang out like a siren.

“It--” Winsweep cut himself off, and Nox thought he heard a sniffle of sorts. He only continued after several moments. “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, I was being reckless,” he replied in a shaky tone. “I got hurt.”

“That’s not the full story, is it?”

Winsweep didn’t reply, and Nox knew he had reached a dead end. So, he changed the subject.

“I was worried, y’know.” Lightly, he grabbed the doorknob, yet he didn’t make a move to turn it. “Your location wasn’t moving, and for a second, I thought you’d died or got kidnapped or something. And when I found you....”

“It was stupid,” said Winsweep suddenly.

Nox frowned. “Don’t say that.”

“But it was. I was being stupid. That’s why it happened.” There was more shuffling, plus an almost-silent sound Nox couldn’t quite recognize. “That’s why everything happens, you know.”

“Who told you that?” Nox crossed his arms, and he felt one of his wings curl loosely around his leg.

There was a scoff. “Do you think I can’t think for myself or something?” asked Winsweep. A dull thunk sounded, like he had just rested his head heavily against the door. Again, that indistinguishable noise sounded, and a small hiss of breath came from Winsweep along with it.

“No.” Nox dithered. He chose his next words cautiously. As though he was convincing a stray animal out of hiding. “I just don’t think you’d willingly call yourself stupid for something like that. Not unprompted, anyways.”

“No one has forced me to do anything, Phrixus.”

The small threat in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by Nox. But he didn’t heed the warning, instead pressing on with, “Tell me why you think it was stupid.”

He could see the faint outline of Winsweep from the gap between the door and the ground, could see how he was sitting right there in front of the entrance, how he adjusted himself every second. He seemed to be fidgeting with something in his hands, but Nox wasn’t sure.

“I got hurt because I was being dumb,” said Winsweep after a while, “that’s why. It’s my own fault, and that’s why it’s stupid. I’ve already said it.”

“And your weapons? Your backpack? All of that being lost? And you yourself sitting there and--” Nox stopped himself short, hanging his head. He turned the doorknob slightly, but as soon as he heard Winsweep’s sharp intake of breath at the action, he let go. “You expect me to believe all of that was because you were being stupid?”

“Yes.”

“You’re fucking with me, Win. You’ve gotta be.” His voice steadily rising in volume, Nox let out a huff of disbelief. “No way you of all people would admit to being stupid.”

“Well, I am.”

Nox’s patience wore thin, and a scowl found its way onto his face.

Sharply, he questioned, “You’ve never been afraid of a villain before. Why now?”

Winsweep’s flinch was obvious even through the closed door. Nox waited as silence gathered between them once again. He picked up on a weak murmur from Winsweep, something along the lines of “Shut up”, but oddly, it didn’t feel like the words were directed at him. He was snapped out of his thoughts a minute later by Winsweep clearing his throat.

“Who says it was a villain?”

“Invictus,” replied Nox matter-of-factly. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes. “It’s obvious, Win. No one just loses their backpack and weapons and breaks their wrist all on their own.”

He fidgeted with the edge of his cloak.

“So. Who was it?”

Faint tapping came from the other side of the doorway. And then, there was that weird noise again. This time, though, Winsweep’s quiet, pained breath right after it was evident.

“You know, Phrix,” he started, and the borderline imperceptible sounds sounded a few more times, “my wrist is already fully healed.”

The change in topic was obvious. But Nox decided to humor Winsweep for now. It was his best bet, he felt.

“I figured,” said Nox, his antenna twitching. “You heal fast, don’t you?”

He was startled when a sudden clang rang out, like Winsweep had dropped something metallic onto the floor. Automatically, Nox’s hand found the doorknob, and it stayed resting there.

“I do,” agreed Winsweep.

Then, he skidded an object out from the small gap below the door. Nox looked down at it, and his breath hitched.

A knife.

It wasn’t a particularly large one, but as Nox crouched to pick it up, he noticed something: There was blood on the blade of it. Fresh blood. Nox turned the holt over in his hand, and his confusion transformed into trepidation. He furrowed his brows.

“Winsweep.” His voice was weak.

Somehow, Winsweep had found something in himself to laugh. But it was only a singular titter. “What?” he questioned. “I heal fast.”

As Nox stared at his own friend’s blood coating the knife, he started to get queasy. He grimaced, and he gingerly placed the knife back on the ground. It felt almost wrong to hold it.

“That doesn’t matter,” stated Nox. “What does is telling me how you got hurt in the first place.”

Winsweep groaned. “Are we back on this again, Phrixus, seriously?”

Nox, lowering himself to the floor, managed a tiny laugh. “I’m not giving up that easily. You know me, Win.”

There was a pause.

“No, I don’t.”

Gradually, Nox’s shoulders tensed. His fingers gripped the end of his tattered cloak, and his brain was instantaneously flooded with questions, sounding like an ear-shattering cacophony he had no control over. His stare could burn a hole through the door; his jaw set as he fully processed Winsweep’s short and elementary statement. A hint of surprising anger ignited inside him, but he stomped it down and rose to his feet. He sucked in several deep breaths in order to not let it get the best of him.

“What do you mean?” asked Nox slowly, his frustration carefully hidden. Winsweep scoffed at him.

“You know exactly what I mean. I don’t really know you. How am I supposed to trust someone who lied about being a villain? What other things are you hiding from me?”

Nox’s gaze hardened.

“Hypocrite,” he snapped. “Could say the exact same thing to you.”

He stared at the door, expecting Winsweep to bite back, but there was no response. Eventually, Nox’s stern expression dropped. He sighed, and his entire body slumped with it, and he leaned on the door since it was the only thing keeping him standing. His eyes landed on the knife lying innocuously on the floor. He had thought of kicking it back to Winsweep, yet he didn’t follow through with it. Rather, he slowly pushed himself up and off the door. His conscience screamed at him to not leave his friend alone, but what would be the point of trying to get a brick wall – just an inanimate object – to talk?

“Fine. I’ll let you be, Win,” muttered Nox, his antennae drooping. “Stay moping for however long you want. Once you’re done, you can come find me.”

He stayed still for a moment or two; maybe because he was hoping Winsweep would speak up. But he soon realized his waiting was fruitless. He didn’t even have the mind to be concerned about the silence. He just sighed and turned the other way.

Slow and steady, Nox rounded the corner. And when he did, he halted in his tracks, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He had to physically restrain himself from lashing out, from giving the wall or maybe one of the doors a few good punches. He tried to calm down by steering his mind away from everything. It worked, somewhat, but not enough. Nothing was ever enough for him.

He groaned silently. His back found the nearest wall, and he slid down it to the ground and buried his face in his arm. His wings ached from the harsh treatment of being smothered, yet he couldn’t care less. Not like I’ll use them anytime soon, he rationalized. It was a bitter thought, but a true one. His moth wings had been rendered useless for years, even before his life as a vigilante. He didn’t remember who was to blame for it – maybe no one was at fault in the first place – but he hated them. More than anything he might have felt, he hated them.

Gods above, why did Amnesia have to take such a memory?

He needed to keep himself from stewing in resentment. He needed some fresh air. He knew he couldn’t stay sitting here forever, no matter how much simpler it would be.

Nox was torn out of his thoughts by a short ding! coming from his pocket. He blinked, then he pulled out his burner phone to check it. It was a message from Invictus, to Oceana’s chat: 

Rattenheim’s headquarters is empty.  

We can finally infiltrate it  

Come if you can  

He glowered at it for a minute, his eyes widening a fraction. He felt his fingers tighten on the comm.

His joints stiff as a robot’s, Nox stood up, and he brushed a bit of dust off his cloak and wings. His hands found their way to the edges of his hood, but he paused once he noticed, and he let go of it. He shook his head and began treading down the hall.

Then, he heard a small sound: A door slowly opening, footsteps coming closer. Nox heard it, and yet he kept walking.

“Phrixus,” someone behind him said.

Nox paused, and he peered slightly over his shoulder. “Yes, Win?” he replied. His voice was void of emotion.

Winsweep was holding onto the corner wall, his mask pointed towards Nox, holding his burner phone in his hand. Nox had a feeling as to why Winsweep was outside his room now, and he frowned at him.

“You’re not going out,” said Nox, gesturing to his comm, “are you?”

Not even bothering to lie, Winsweep stepped closer and said stiffly, “I am.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Why not?” Winsweep crossed his arms. “Will’s leg is still healing, and Victus’ll need all the help he can get with this, if we actually wanna pull this off. Besides–” He tilted his head at Nox – “you’re going, too.”

Nox huffed, and he turned around to continue his hike down the corridor.

“That doesn’t mean you should,” he pointed out. He then stopped abruptly, and he felt Winsweep almost run into him with the action. “I don’t want you leaving right now,” he said to him. “None of us do. Okay?”

“I’m not a child, Phrix.”

Nox stared at him. After a long moment, he quietly said, “I know. And we’re not--”

“Why should I not come with you, then?”

“It’s.... We don’t want....”

Nox trailed off, not having a complete answer. Winsweep obviously took his lack of a reply as victory, and he walked past Nox down the hall. But before he could get very far, Nox grabbed the back of his collar, halting him in his tracks.

“You’re not leaving.”

Winsweep muttered curses underneath his breath, and he slapped Nox’s hand, making him relinquish his hold. Nox could tell he was glaring behind his mask. Just as Winsweep let out an indignant, “Well, too bad,” Nox interrupted him.

“I don’t want a repeat of two days ago, Win.” Nox crossed his arms, glowering at the other. “And definitely not one from when we were trapped with the Warden. I can’t handle that, you can’t handle that, so just stay here.”

The glare Winsweep gave him was acidic enough to dissolve metal. Nox knew that he’d struck a nerve, but he didn’t care much, not even when Winsweep’s hand clenched around nothing, and he tilted his chin up a hair. Nox just looked at him with no visible emotion, and he sighed.

“You don’t have to like it, Winsweep, but don’t fight me on this. Please.”

Winsweep’s defiant charade dropped, Nox could see plainly, and he looked down at the ground. A spark of pity swelled inside Nox. But instead of acting on it, he only gave his teammate an inscrutable look and a nod. He then motioned down the hall towards Winsweep’s room.

“Go get some more rest,” instructed Nox. He opened up one of the contacts on his burner phone, beginning to type away. Yet he paused, and he deleted the half-written message after. “And no funny business, all right?”

He’d meant for the last bit to be light-hearted, yet when Winsweep didn’t do so much as shift around in place, Nox’s tiny smile fell. He said, “I’ll see you later.”

Nox watched as Winsweep crossed his arms, nodded, then slowly turned to walk away. And Nox didn’t move a muscle until he was fully around the corner. Even afterward, when he heard the door to Winsweep’s room open then close, he stayed where he was. It was only when he felt a buzz come from the comm did the spell over him break, and he looked to see a message from Will. 

Sorry, my leg’s still acting up, so I can’t travel.  

Can you go Phrixus?  

It took a mere second for Nox to type out his response: 

I’ll be there  

Nox put his comm away before fiddling with the straps of his backpack. He could hear essentials rattle around in there, yet he tuned them out in favor of straining his hearing down the hall. He could only pick up on faint wisps of breath and quiet footfalls, as though Winsweep was pacing in his room. But he was staying put. Nox had to reassure himself that he’d continue to do so, despite everything he knew about his friend.

With nothing left to do otherwise, Nox gradually made his way down the hall. He felt far from relaxed, but tension did not distort his body and features as it had before, and his breathing was a natural phenomenon again. Taking a few deep breaths, Nox ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his hood in the process, but he tugged it back into place before it could fall. He began to think more and more about what was to come, and anxiety gnawed at him like a dog with its chew toy.

He knew Rattenheim. They wouldn’t leave their base unattended, not without reason. He couldn’t help but ask himself: What if it was a trap?

Nox decidedly didn’t entertain the thought.

His hand suddenly touched cold metal, and he jolted at the sensation. But it was just him grabbing hold of the stairwell railing. He looked down, and he found he was at the top of the stairs, and he blinked. He hadn’t felt this out-of-it in a long time. He had to wonder why he was feeling so drained, yet he came up with nothing.

That wasn’t entirely true. It always seemed to happen whenever he thought about the memory he had lost from Amnesia, his mind going fuzzy and his actions becoming foreign to him. Nox could only assume it was a side effect from Amnesia’s potions. Yet none of the others complained about it.

He was doing it again, letting his brain saunter off without him. He took deep breaths in order to focus himself, and he began descending down the stairwell, pushing away any thoughts on forgotten memories. Admittedly, though, it was difficult.

The walk down to the first floor came and went quickly, and the entire time, Nox was stuck looking at his journey through a TV screen. But when he made it to the last step, the fog in his brain was at last dissipating. He sighed in gratitude. Unlike how it was upstairs, the air here was free and refreshing. Perhaps Nox should have felt bad about thinking the change was due to not being near his teammate. But he didn’t. He only felt relief, and he smiled mildly.

Heaving his backpack further up his shoulders, Nox took a small look around the first floor. Nothing about it had changed since he went upstairs, but that distinct lack of human presence was more palpable, somehow propelled by soft noises he could hear from down the hall. He would be lying if he said he expected anything different.

Nox pulled his goggles back on, then his hood, gently guiding his antennae through the holes. He then made his way over to the front door and put his hand on the handle. He paused before glancing over his shoulder.

Oceana’s base had never looked so lifeless. And when Nox finally stepped outside and was fully submerged in the sounds of the distant city, that thought only grew. He knew, logically, that this period of suffocation would soon pass, and the building would regain its lively nature. It was difficult not to miss it in its absence, though.

But he didn’t think too hard on it. Besides, he had a job to do.

Nox’s hand found its way to his belt, and he fingered the holster of his blade for a moment and pulled it out. He turned the hilt over in his palm before pressing a small button. Without making a sound, the blade grew to the size of a full-length sword. He inspected it, as though he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before, and he let out a huff of breath. He turned to one end of the alley. Then, a tick later, he began to walk towards it.

Yet Nox was unaware of the person looking at him through an open window. And after Nox was out of sight, the person slowly, silently hopped out of the window, and they began to follow him.

Chapter Text

Spawn was C’Essempii’s largest city, a bustling metropolis teeming with life and opportunity. You couldn’t go a minute without passing by a new face on the street or a new restaurant or clothing store that just opened. Activity ran rampant at all hours; it was as though no one in the city slept. In the heart of Spawn, skyscrapers pierced through clouds, and the lights of screens and billboards illuminated all it touched, making it so that even during the darkest hours of night, the epicenter of C’Essempii shone brightly. In contrast, the outskirts of Spawn were more mellow, not harboring as much traffic. Natural plant life was a lot more frequent there, and that area of Spawn had more empty space and abandoned structures than it knew what to do with. That was where Oceana’s base was located: Secretive yet close to all the action, only ten or so minutes away from the ends of the city. It was the perfect place, as Invictus would boast.

Spawn wasn’t where Nox was headed, though. He was going the opposite direction, in fact, towards the largest area outside of Oceana’s territory. It was where Rattenheim’s main base was located.

Oceana had been stalking Rattenheim’s base for a long while now. Months ago, Will had stuck a tracker onto Plague while fighting him, and the villain unwittingly led them right to where he and Helle were hunkering down. Of course, they couldn’t just storm right into Rattenheim’s base and expect success, no. They had to bide their time. And if Invictus was right and their headquarters were truly empty, then this would be the perfect opportunity to infiltrate it.

But Nox was anxious. He admittedly did not have the patience of a saint, and they had waited so long for this moment, to finally gain leverage over Rattenheim by breaking into their base, gathering any information on anything they could get their hands on. But still, Nox was anxious.

He knew his sister’s mind like the back of his hand. She was meticulously thorough in everything she did, and she was as paranoid as a deer during hunting season. There wasn’t a single reason Nox could think of that she wouldn’t rig every part of Rattenheim’s base, just on the off chance that invaders could come and plunder it. That just wasn’t her – she wasn’t careless. Nor was she stupid. And perhaps she had changed over the years, perhaps she had let loose and gone ignorant, but Nox wouldn’t bet a single penny on that being the case. That just wasn’t her.

Though, he supposed there wasn’t much he could do. All he could do, really, was tread lightly. Yes, that was it. When he got to Rattenheim’s base, he just had to tread lightly in order to not activate any traps. In order to not get hurt. He could do that.

Everything’ll be fine, Nox told himself. He grimaced as the thought came to him and carried himself faster down the alley.

Up above, the noon sun shined on Nox as he traversed the unfamiliar alley system. He was hunched over his comm, following the directions Invictus gave to Rattenheim’s headquarters and simultaneously keeping a stern eye on the two dots in Oceana’s: Will and Winsweep. Will’s dot was moving slowly around the first floor. Winsweep’s stayed stationary in his room. Nox’s gaze lingered on Winsweep’s dot for a bit longer, and he let out a breath through his nose. He switched back to Rattenheim’s location thereafter.

It wasn’t the same location as it was years ago. Not that he’d expected different. Rattenheim’s first base had been smack in the middle of Spawn, in the dingy underground tunnels of some abandoned hospital. He could remember them clearly. He and his twin had lived in them for almost all their lives. To him, they had always felt akin to a dungeon; only the light of makeshift lamps would illuminate the tunnels. They were always covered in a layer of grime, and all the wood the twins could find was rotten, holes drilled through them by hungry termites. Torn-apart mice and bird carcasses had always littered the ground, cementing themselves in history as the poor leftovers of a stray cat. But the cat needed to eat, too.

Nox couldn’t say for sure when Rattenheim had evacuated, but during Oceana’s crusade of Spawn three years ago, he’d snuck away to check these tunnels, and there hadn’t been a trace of them left. Only singe marks on the walls and ground and a pile of ash.

Earlier, Invictus had given the team a brief description of Rattenheim’s current base: A rustic cabin, wedged in the middle of wilderness, complete with a handful of broken windows and chunks of shingles peeled off the roof. But that building was only a cover-up. Underneath it, Invictus claimed, was Rattenheim’s true base of operations. So, the underground was their target.

Nox wasn’t surprised. Of course Plague and Helle would go underground again, just like they had done with the tunnels. Humans were creatures of habit, after all. It was hard to break what you were familiar with.

He didn’t think they’d make it so obvious, though. But that wasn’t the point. It just made things easier for him. He tried to convince himself of this, but he wasn’t sure if he was successful.

Nox looked up from his burner phone and halted in his tracks. The alley he’d been walking through was a dead end. He grumbled to himself, and he turned on his heel, taking a look at his surroundings. He was standing between what he assumed were two apartment buildings. On one wall was a piece of lattice with the beginnings of vines crawling up its side – the other had a door with an emergency fire exit sign above it. Nox squinted and looked back at his comm, and he noted his location in regard to where Invictus’ dot was on the map.

He groaned up. While caught up in his own thoughts, he had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Just great. Leave it to him to get turned around while having directions right in front of him. Winsweep had always joked that Nox shouldn’t be left alone with his thoughts, lest he end up lost on the other side of the country. Maybe there was more truth to the quip than he’d first thought.

Mentally berating himself, Nox started retracing his steps. He luckily hadn’t gone too far off kilter. He just had to go back, turn the corner, and be on his way. It would do him so good, he thought to himself, to perhaps walk a bit faster while he was at it. At the rate he was going, he’d make it to Rattenheim’s base in almost half an hour. He had to be quicker than that. Nox compelled his legs to carry himself faster, walking until he made it to the corner just a hundred or so feet away.

When he was just about to turn it, something made him pause. A noise. It was faint, but it was present, and Nox strained his hearing in order to better discern it. It sounded almost like scampering, like a person or animal had been startled because of his sudden movements. He swiveled his head around in trying to trace the noise came from, yet it was drowned out by the wind blowing and beating against glass and a lone bird’s call in the distance. Nox stayed still for several moments. His heart felt like it had been pinched as it began beating faster and faster. Goosebumps rose upon his flesh.

He could feel a set of eyes boring into his skull.

Nox remembered reading somewhere that the only way someone could know they were being watched is that they’d caught a glimpse of whatever – whoever – was watching them, even when unaware they had. With this in mind, he swept his gaze over the entirety of the alleyway, to the rooftops above, and then farther beyond, like an android scanning its surroundings. But even as he looked around once, twice, three times, he couldn’t see anything. Nobody else was around him.

“All my imagination,” muttered Nox to himself. He shook his head as though that would dispel any of the anxiety he had. His wings twitched as a shiver ran through his bones.

He took a slow step forward, then stopped and listened for any other sound. There was nothing. Again, he stepped forward, stopped, then listened. Stepped, stopped, listened. Stepped, stopped, listened. He kept up this process until he rounded the corner with bated breath. Only then did he feel the weight of a person’s gaze lift off his shoulders. But still, he felt on-edge.

Maybe it was just an animal, Nox reasoned to himself, hurrying down the correct path this time. Maybe it was just a raccoon. Or maybe there wasn’t anything there in the first place. I’m just being paranoid.

The thought helped alleviate some of the tension in his shoulders. That was it. He was just paranoid.

Nox walked for a minute or two until he reached a junction: Left, right, or straight ahead. The directions told him to go left. Nox did so.

Though it was far from silent, Nox felt himself becoming antsy. He’d been walking for what had felt like forever. But he didn’t trust himself not to get distracted if he let his mind run circles around him. He supposed he’d just have to deal with the quietude, then. He hated when it was quiet. It always made him uneasy, always made him think there was something that his hearing just couldn’t pick up, though he knew it was close to impossible. The quiet always caused him to think back to--

Nox caught himself. He just couldn’t help it, could he? He let out a noise of frustration, hitting himself on the side of the head.

To calm his thoughts, he decided to observe his surroundings. The alley was tight and encased in concrete. A clothesline was pinned across the way, spanning from one window to another, and a yellow, abandoned dog collar laid on the ground beside a trash can. Nox passed by a building’s side door, and a soft shutter sound rang out, coming from a security camera just above said door. He didn’t care enough to react to it, simply pressing on.

Minutes later, he reached the end of the alleyway without much issue. The mouth of it led into a small grove, right before the outskirts of a forest, which was unreachable if one were to keep to the area’s main streets. The trees there were dense, yet if Nox looked closely, he could see the beginning of a dirt road peeking out from the foliage. Will had once mentioned that this forest used to be a nature trail, but the Essempii Hero Agency had forced it to close down, blocking off all major entrances to it, not allowing anyone except authorized personnel to enter.

As Nox stepped out the alley and into the grassy knoll, he noticed a chain link fence blocking him from walking straight into the forest. It wouldn’t be too difficult to jump it, as it was only a few inches taller than him, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nuisance. He had to wonder, why did the EHA shut the trail down, anyways? He couldn’t recall ever seeing any news about business-ending incidents on the trail. There was no real reason for them to close it. That was, unless the EHA was hiding something.

What a shocker that would be. Nox snorted to himself. The Official Lying Agency caught lying? Absolutely unfathomable!

It made him think, though. If they were in fact hiding something along this nature trail, it’d make sense to close it. But what were they hiding?

Before he could think too much about it, Nox’s hand touched the fence, which knocked him out of his own brain. He looked up and felt along the cool metal underneath his fingertips. He gripped it tighter, planted his feet firmly onto the bottom, and lifted himself up and over the fence. He landed on the other side with a thump.

Brushing imaginary dust off himself, Nox looked over at the forest, and he could see the first path leading into it more clearly. Following it would be his best option, he supposed. Not like he’d be gunned down like sport if he were to. He doubted the EHA cared enough to have constant surveillance on the nature trail. If they did, Will’s sensors would’ve picked up activity there a long time ago; Nox would’ve learned of its existence a long time ago. He guessed it didn’t matter much at the moment; he was there now, and he needed to get moving.

So, he did just that. His feet padded along the dirt trail as he walked farther into the trees’ boundary. Almost immediately, the sounds of the forest enveloped him: Scuffling from animals on the sidelines, the wind rustling through the leaves, bugs loudly droning and buzzing throughout the forest. Nox considered it serene, the way nothing around him was truly silent. That meant everything was as it should be. He latched onto this notion with the air of someone clinging to a cliff’s edge. A last-ditch effort to find comfort. Because he knew, with how his skin scrawled and hair stood on end, that something was wrong.

Nox looked behind him. He found he could no longer see the beginning of the path. It made his antennae lay flat on his head.

Eyes darting anxiously about, he took a calming breath before retrieving his burner phone. He was only around ten minutes from Invictus’ location. If he hurried, he could make it there even faster.

There came a sudden rustle from a nearby bush. He jumped, whirling to the source, only to discover there was just a little white rabbit chewing on some weeds. He relaxed instantly, yet neither his heartbeat nor his nerves relented one bit. Stop being so paranoid, his conscience scolded. Of course there would be animals here. For the Gods’ sake, it was a forest! He should expect to hear creatures scurrying around. But how could he turn his back on his own instincts? They kept him alive, after all. Who was to say that next time, the whisper of the leaves wouldn’t be caused by just the wind?

And who was to say the stare he could feel pricking his neck was just an animal?

He shook his head to dispel that train of thought. It gave him the chills, and in order to distract himself from it, he picked up the pace and focused only on his boots scraping the dirt with each heavy step. Yet it wasn’t enough; he could still hear breathing besides his own. He tried to tell himself it was just a deer or a fox or whatever else, but his mind wouldn’t let him.

Finally, Nox grew sick of it. Fingers trembling lightly, he brough his comm closer, and he dialed a number before putting it to his ear. As it rang, he kicked a rock sitting by his feet, walking along with hurried footsteps.

The ringing then stopped. “Hello?”

Nox breathed out, as though he hadn’t expected the other person to pick up. “Hey, Victus,” he said. “It’s Phrix.”

“Oh, hey, what’s up?”

“Not a lot.” Nox curled into himself, slightly. He bit his lip as he tried to think of an excuse for calling, other than his own paranoia. “I just wanted to let you know I’m, uh, almost at the cabin. Just a couple more minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, good.” Invictus paused for a moment. “We still have plenty of time. Plague and Helle shouldn’t be here any time soon.”

Nox couldn’t stop himself from questioning, “How do we know that?”

Invictus’ hesitant consideration was evident even through the phone. “Guesswork. But I’d like to think I’m right. Since I’m such a genius, y’know?”

“I would go as far as to say that.”

“Awh, you know it’s true. But, anyways--” Invictus changed the subject -- “have things been going well for you so far? No... incidents or anything?”

“Besides getting turned around for a minute, no. How about you?”

Invictus chuckled. “Been as well as I can be, I’d say.”

“Good, good.”

There was a small lapse of silence in their conversation. Nox stared straight ahead, focusing on following the path that wound around a boulder with blocky letters carved onto its surface. Around him, he could hear leaves swaying in the breeze, the nearby waters of a spring, the hum of Invictus’ monitor through the phone. He split his attention between all of these sounds, to remind himself that complete silence wasn’t possible.

That was when a new noise reached his ears: Footsteps. He hadn’t noticed them before, but he had the gut feeling that they’d always been there. A bead of sweat formed on his temple as he jerkily stopped walking. A second after, the noise stopped.

Now, there wasn’t a doubt in Nox’s mind. He was being followed.

He looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. He noticed his breaths came out quick, too unstable, and he attempted rectifying it by taking a few deep ones. He strained his ears, now picking up even the sound of birds flying above him, and waited.

A twig snapped. Someone’s sharp intake of breath came right afterward. Nox’s heart rate jumped to a thousand.

Nox lowered the comm from his ear, turning around to glare behind him. He said loudly into the forest, “I know you’re there.”

Nothing responded. From the burner, Invictus made a confused noise and questioned what Nox was doing. Nox ignored him. He held his breath, listened for a short while, and he heard a quiet huff that wasn’t his own. It had come from just a little way off the path.

He fiddled with the dagger in his pocket. He pulled it out a pushed its handle’s button, feeling it grow in his grip.

“I know you’re there,” he repeated. A bird, startled by his voice, flew out of its nest.

“Phrixus.” Invictus sounded worried now. “What’s goin’ on? Is someone there?”

Nox dropped his voice to a hiss. “Yeah, someone is.”

Invictus went quiet, and Nox took the opportunity to step towards where he could hear someone else breathing. There was a particularly large tree nearby, and Nox focused his burning attention on it. He pointed the tip of his sword at it. “Come out,” he ordered sharply.

He felt like an utter fool yelling at a tree, but as a coil of fear staked its claim on his heart, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Painstakingly slow, he stalked closer to it. His blade was inches away from scraping against the bark, and he squeezed the handle as more droplets of sweat formed. His ears rang as he got closer to the tree, and his antennae laid flat on his head. He swallowed, exhaling a wavering breath, and clenched his jaw. The air went still.

Nox then lurched forward and around the tree, brandishing his sword, expecting to catch whoever was following him off guard. The only thing was, there was nothing there.

He stared at the empty space as though personally offended by it. His face was of pure confusion, and he blinked a few times, eyes flicking around. He looked over his shoulder, squinted, and began to walk around the tree once or twice, just on the off chance that he’d missed something. But no. He hadn’t. There was truly nobody else with him.

“What the hell?” muttered Nox, lowering his sword. He walked back to the front of the tree, looking in disbelief. Was he going crazy? He felt like he was going crazy.

Invictus’ hesitant voice sounded from the comm. “Phrixus? You good?”

“I’m-- good,” responded Nox, slowly.

“Didya get them?”

“No.” He deflated, tense shoulders falling into their normal position, antennae quirking back up. “I didn’t even see them.” He let out a little half-laugh. “Gods. I might just be insane, man, I’ll be honest. Might just all be in my head.”

Invictus paused. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Nox shrugged, remembered Invictus couldn’t see him, then answered, “I don’t know.”

“Just keep an eye out, at least.”

“Sure. I will.”

Nox was just about to turn back onto the nature trail, but something made him hesitate. His mind screamed at him that someone was behind him. That couldn’t be the case, could it? Yet he could hear small shuffles, like a baby animal was approaching him to sniff with caution, and a centipede of anxiety crawled up his spine, each of its little legs tickling his sensitive skin. After another moment or so, the shuffling ceased.

Nox let out a breath. He squeezed his sword then pressed the button on its handle. It shrank back into a dagger, and Nox held it like a lifeline, his knuckles cramping from the force.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he swung it behind him, aiming for the person’s neck. Yet his dagger met nothing but air. He heard the person gasp, then a thud sounded, as though they had fallen. Nox straightened his back, and he turned with a sour glare.

It faltered as he saw who it was, though.

He sputtered, “Win?”

Winsweep looked up at Nox from the ground, his distaste evident as he crossed his arms and huffed petulantly.

“You sure know how to greet somebody, Phrix. Is this gonna be a new thing for you now?” he snarked, rubbing the small of his back. The soulless eye of his mask seemed to narrow at Nox. “What?” he scoffed. “Are you just not gonna help me up?”

Nox’s gaze hardened some. He reached down, roughly seized Winsweep’s arm, and hauled him to his feet. After he’d found his balance, Winsweep mumbled something about manners and whatnot; Nox didn’t care.

“The hell are you doing here, Win?” Nox had covered his comm’s microphone, and a thought came to him as he caught a glimpse of the screen. “How are you here? It says you’re still at base with Will.”

Winsweep tilted his head. “I left my comm behind,” he stated. Nox stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Winsweep nodded, and Nox almost chucked his phone at the other’s head. “Holy shit. Oh, my Gods, you’re an idiot.”

Winsweep put his hands on his hips, no doubt glaring at Nox like he was a stubborn stain on a clothing article. “Oh, come on, don’t be mudslinging!” snapped Winsweep. “It’s not like I’ll die if I don’t have my comm on me. I can go without it just fine.”

“Not the point. You’re not supposed to be here. What if--”

His burner phone crackled. “Phrixus, who’s there with you?” asked Invictus. Nox uncovered the microphone and put the comm to his ear, still glowering at his teammate.

“It’s Win,” he said, exasperation lacing his voice like cyanide. “I know he’s not supposed to be here, but he is.”

“But his--”

“He left his comm at base.” Nox looked Winsweep up and down with narrowed eyes. “Because he’s an idiot.”

Winsweep’s protests were loud and instantaneous. “I’m not an idiot! I told you not to call me that!”

“Shut up, Win, can’t you see I’m having a conversation here?”

“I wouldn’t have left my comm at base if you’d just let me come along! But no, you just had to coddle me like I’m some child or something--”

“For the last time, we weren’t coddling you! It’s not like that! And if you’d have just told us what was wrong, we wouldn’t have needed to keep you in the ba--”

“Nothing was wrong, Phrix--”

“Don’t you interrupt me, you little bitch!”

The two’s bickering turned indistinguishable as they started yelling over each other. Eventually, even over their arguing, Nox could hear Invictus produce a sigh before the vigilante cleared his throat.

“All right, all right,” said Invictus loudly, making them pause in their arguing, “pack it up. You two stop screaming before my ears begin to bleed.”

“He started it,” said Nox, pointing at his teammate. Winsweep made an offended noise.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but I actually don’t care about that.” Invictus stopped for a moment, and the fan inside their monitor whirred along. They let out a close-to-silent breath. “Hey, Phrixus,” they began, and their tone was one of slight annoyance. “Hand the phone to Winsweep, would ya?”

Nox glanced back at Winsweep. He frowned and held the comm out to him. “Victus wants to talk to you,” he said. Winsweep crossed his arms before groaning and snatching the phone from him.

“Hello?” said Winsweep, putting the comm to his ear.

Not even a second later, he wrenched it away from himself with an audible flinch, and Nox heard the tail end of a deafening, robotic sounding “What were you thinking?!” from Invictus.

“It’s not my fault!” Winsweep brought the phone back to him. “Just listen to me.” He paused, and Invictus chattered on the other end of the call. Winsweep curled into himself, slightly. “I can’t exactly go back now, Victus, unless you want me getting lost.”

Nox raised a brow. “You made it here just fine.”

“That’s only because I was following you!” Winsweep put his hand in Nox’s face. “Now, shush. I can’t hear him.”

Nox rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything more. At least an enemy hadn’t been following him. He should’ve known Winsweep wouldn’t listen to him, though. He barely even listened to anyone. And to think he left Oceana’s headquarters without his comm – Nox looked a bit closer, realizing his teammate’s holsters were empty – nor his longsword.... Despite what Nox had said, he knew Winsweep wasn’t a complete moron, but that was just straight up idiotic! A feeling to tell Winsweep off compelled Nox, yet he bit his tongue. With how the other vigilante was wincing every couple of seconds, Invictus was already doing that for him.

Most likely scenario, Nox thought to himself, Winsweep would have to come along for the mission. Nox wasn’t fond of the idea, and he was sure Invictus wasn’t either, but what other choice did they have? If they took Winsweep back to Oceana, they were risking Helle and Plague returning to the base and busting them. A lose-lose situation. Winsweep probably didn’t think about it like that, like the smug bastard he was. Gods, Nox felt like strangling him.

A minute later, Nox was brought out of his head by Winsweep handing the comm back to him. He took it and pocketed it. “What’d Victus say?” he questioned.

Winsweep tilted his head and answered with a hint of satisfaction, “They said I’ll just have to tag along.”

Delightful.

“Did you also tell them you didn’t bring your sword with you?” asked Nox with a sigh.

As though just now realizing he was without any weapons, Winsweep looked down at his empty holsters. Nox gave him a deadpan look.

“... I did.”

A little something told Nox that wasn’t true, but he didn’t have the patience to initiate another argument with Winsweep, and he instead nodded curtly. He then motioned for Winsweep to follow him and, not checking to see if he’d actually listen, turned to start down the dirt path. Light footsteps told him his teammate wasn’t far behind.

They walked in silence for a minute or two, passing by trees and old trail marks and even a quaint little pond inhabited only by fish. Some way or another, Winsweep had ended up in front of Nox, and the man glanced over his shoulder every couple of seconds, as though making sure Nox wasn’t about to stick a knife through his spine. Nox wasn’t too concerned about it – it wasn’t even abnormal, really –, so he ignored it alongside the urge to snap at Winsweep to stop doing that. The quietness droned on. Nox’s ears nearly began to be filled with static because of it, antennae flattening to his head, dry throat itching for something to say. Winsweep, though, was the first to break the ice.

“So,” he said, drawing out the ‘o’. Winsweep looked behind again. “Do you think we can actually pull this off, Phrix?”

“The mission?” Nox thought about it. “Can’t say. As long as Helle or Plague don’t show up, we might have a good shot at it. But I don’t really know what we’re gonna do once we get there.”

Winsweep hummed, arms crossed. His pace lagged some, becoming even with Nox’s, and they ended up walking side by side. As Winsweep’s question lingered, qualms snuck up on Nox like a cheetah pouncing on a gazelle. Before he could think twice about it, he opened his mouth again.

“It might be a trap, though,” started Nox, his wings shifting uncomfortably. “You know them and their schemes. What if we get there, and then we end up being captured? That’d be bad, wouldn’t it? And what if we can’t-- pick ourselves up out of it? What then?”

Winsweep’s soulless mask gazed at him. The man himself produced a small, indiscernible noise.

“I don’t wanna doubt your instincts, Phrix,” he replied in a flippant tone, “but you shouldn’t worry about that so much. We can handle whatever they put out for us. We always have.”

Nox’s response was sharp:

“What if it’s another Warden?”

He watched Winsweep’s shoulders tense gradually. They stared at each other, paces slowing to a turtle’s hobble, until Winsweep tilted his head away.

“We’d deal with it,” he said, “like we did last time.”

“Just like last time? Seriously? Do you really wanna go through that again, Win?”

Winsweep didn’t reply for a long moment, never once returning Nox’s gaze. Then, slowly, he shook his head no. Nox felt semi-bad for making him go quiet, but not enough to stop him from saying coldly, “I didn’t think so.”

They walked on.

The longer they were silent, the larger the lump in Nox’s throat grew. He couldn’t deduce how or why it was there, but its presence was noticeable all the same. Like the ghost of a building’s past owner, not wanting to stray from where they were familiar. It lingered, and try as he might to swallow it down, it persisted. He hated how that disgusting little cockroach called hesitance couldn’t just curl up and die on its own.

Taking a breath to ground himself, Nox pulled out his comm. He and Winsweep were only a few minutes from Invictus’ location; a good thing indeed. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the silence. It felt wrong not to be joking around with his teammate, exchanging sarcastic comments and playful punches, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do any of that. With how he could feel Winsweep’s tight little glares burn holes through him every once in a while, it wouldn’t feel right. He wondered what his teammate was thinking. Probably not something very polite, his conscience supplied. But what did he expect, really?

The trail curled around a small, abandoned campsite with tents torn up yet still standing, and the foliage thinned enough for Nox to spot a couple deer standing at attention as they walked past. He then looked down, and he noticed how the dirt path was becoming less and less beaten. Patches of grass were popping up in the middle of the trail, more frequent and denser as they went on.

That was a promising sign. It meant that they were getting closer to undisturbed area – area inhabited only by Rattenheim.

Nox’s strides grew more purposeful, and he heard Winsweep huff before hastening to catch up. He didn’t bother slowing down, though. And a minute later, the path under their feet fully smoothed into crisp green grass.

If Nox squinted, he could see that up ahead, the trees ended right in front of a wooden fence line. He and his teammate walked right up to the gate’s entrance, shackled closed with a warning pinned to the chains. There was a sign posted just to the side of it, which was slowly being reclaimed by nature, and Nox paused to give its contents a cursory scan. Besides denoting the estate as Private Property, nothing stuck out to him. He looked away from the sign and began to follow Winsweep in hopping the fence. His feet landed on a driveway of sorts, long and spanning towards the stoop of the cabin, and he glanced up to see Invictus loitering near what seemed to have once been a flourishing garden but was now just a graveyard for pretty, dead flowers. Winsweep instantly made an excited beeline for Invictus while Nox lagged behind, his anxious gaze sweeping the area in search of any traps.

Not long after, Invictus turned, and he greeted the two vigilantes with a lazy smile.

“Oh, good. You’re here.”

Nox nodded at Invictus. He then turned his attention to the cabin. It only dawned on him then just how enormous it was. It was more elegant and striking than Nox had been led to believe, though -- true to description – it did have cracked windows and a dilapidated roof. A stone staircase wound up to the front door where two suits of armor stood guard, every other step crumbling with small green plants residing in the cracks. No light nor warmth emanated from the cabin; if Nox didn’t know any better, he would assume the only residents of the cabin were nature and dust bunnies. His ears picked up on Winsweep and Invictus conversing lowly, but he didn’t tune into the conversation, instead stepping up to the side of the stone stairs, craning his head toward the entrance. A little bit later, he sensed more so than saw Winsweep do the same. He glanced at his friend then looked quickly away.

“A lot bigger than I’d imagined,” commented Nox, crossing his arms as his wings vibrated lightly. “I’d have thought they’d be more... discreet.”

Winsweep made a hum of agreement.

“Just makes things easier for us,” said Invictus, and they walked up to both of them, hands stuffed in their pockets. Sunlight reflected off their screen and shielded their eyes from view. After a bit, they turned their monitor from Nox to Winsweep, saying, “We know the game plan, right? Find whatever you can, in and out as quick as possible?”

They both nodded.

“Good. You two go ahead through the front entrance. I’ll stay here in case anything happens.” He then paused, looking over at Winsweep, and sighed. “Winsweep, where’re your weapons?”

“He left them,” replied Nox instantly. Winsweep elbowed him.

“I forgot them,” he corrected with a huff. “Get it right.”

“Uh-huh, suuuuure.”

Invictus rubbed the side of their monitor as though massaging their temples. They then reached behind themself, grabbing onto thin air. But just a second later, their battle hammer materialized in their hand, and they held it out toward Winsweep.

“Here,” they said. “Use this for now.”

He plopped the hammer into Winsweep’s palms, and the other vigilante kept it suspended for a mere millisecond before his arms gave out, and he dropped it with a yelp. Nox raised a brow at his friend’s struggle. Invictus then shrugged off the empty black holster he wore, also handing that off to Winsweep.

“And one last thing,” said Invictus casually, patting Winsweep’s shoulder. “If you scratch my hammer, I’m kickin’ you out of Oceana. Capiche?”

Winsweep muttered, “All right, all right. Gods....” He strapped on the holster before reaching down, grabbing the hammer, and hauling it into the air while grunting.

He managed to swing the hammer over his shoulder, and it disappeared once close enough to the holster. Immediately after it was out of his hands, he deflated with a dramatic whine of relief. Nox snickered and thumped Winsweep on the back, which earned him a look that was undoubtedly a dirty one.

“Okay, boys,” said Invictus, throwing his arms around them. “I’ll keep watch, and I’ll call if anything bad happens; you do the same. You ready?”

Nox and Winsweep nodded.

“Then go and make me proud!”

With the gentleness of a tidal wave, Invictus pushed the two of them toward the foot of the stone stairs. They stumbled from the force, yet neither fell, and they hesitated there for a second while Invictus walked off to seemingly patrol the area. Nox turned his head to look at Winsweep. He then unholstered his dagger, and he took the first step. Winsweep followed soon after.

Their ascent up the staircase was careful. Or Nox’s was, at least. It seemed to him that Winsweep was perfectly content with walking up a flight of stairs that could crash and burn at any moment, since the man was a handful of steps ahead of Nox, never once breaking his stride. Once only a couple feet from the top, though, Winsweep’s foot landed on a step that suddenly crumbled into rubble, making him trip. Nox was about ready to grab him, yet Winsweep balanced himself before he could. The vigilante stopped, glanced quickly over his shoulder as though checking if Nox had seen his slip-up, then carried on wordlessly.

They at last made it to the top of the stairs, and Nox made the mistake of peering over the edge. He and Winsweep were dizzyingly high up, not made at all better by the fact there weren’t any railings, nor any guarantee that the entire staircase wouldn’t crumble if one took a wrong step. Nox, swallowing harshly, turned away from the ledge. He saw his teammate gazing up in wonderment at one of the armor suits beside the door; in particular, Winsweep was eyeing its weapon. Nox had to roll his eyes at how predictable it was.

He walked over to the door. Winsweep turned to look at him. “You can do the honors, I suppose, Phrix,” said Winsweep, gesturing to the entrance.

“Yeah. All right.”

Nox placed his hand on the doorknob and tried turning it. It didn’t move. Not surprising, but Nox didn’t exactly keep any lock-picking tools on his person. He’d just have to brute force it, then.

He squeezed his dagger before pressing the button on its hilt, feeling it elongate under his fingers. He shuffled a bit, nudging Winsweep out the way, and he positioned his blade over the sliver between the doorknob and the door. He lifted his sword, and he sliced it down, a loud sort of crack! resounding as it made contact.

“Gods,” said Winsweep, and Nox glanced at him, seeing him standing there with his hands on his hips. “Do you think they’ll notice their doorknob being gone?” he asked sarcastically.

Nox huffed. “Doesn’t matter.” He lifted his sword again and took a hack at the doorknob. “They’ll know someone’s been here regardless. Might as well make things easier for ourselves.” He lifted his sword, swung it down. “Besides, this is kinda fun.”

Winsweep laughed, but it sounded lifeless. Nox was too focused on the task at hand to pay much attention, though.

He brought his sword up one last time, held it there for a moment, then brought it down. The doorknob clattered to the ground along with the lock mechanism, rolling a bit before stopping at the foot of the left armor display. Nox put his fingers through the door’s new-found hole and pulled it slowly open.

The interior of the cabin revealed itself. It was dark inside, as only sunlight from the open door provided any illumination, and a layer of dust floated in the air and rested on multiple surfaces. Unused chairs were piled up in one corner of the room, and a dingy couch was positioned in front of a fireplace that likely hadn’t been lit for years. All of the curtains were drawn; all of the furniture was torn open. There was a doorway nearby that led into a narrow hall, then a second one by the fireplace. And up above, a metal chandelier was hung there, unmoving.

Slowly, Nox stepped inside. The floorboards creaked, as though screaming in pain. A second later, Winsweep squeezed past him and made a beeline for the closest window, while Nox’s eyes roamed the walls for a light switch somewhere.

“They’ve ought to lighten the place up a bit,” remarked Winsweep as he threw open one window’s curtains. He coughed as a landslide of dust flew into his face.

Nox hummed, closing the front door then making his way over to the one by the fireplace. This one wasn’t locked, so Nox was able to open it without a hassle. The door led into a small kitchen area with wooden counters, a few cabinets, a covered window, and even a stove. Nox took a page out of Winsweep’s book and opened the window’s curtains, allowing for light to stake its claim on the dark room. Then, he heard footsteps behind him stop at the door. For some odd reason, although he knew who they belonged to, Nox stiffened at the sound of them. He looked to see his teammate leaning blithely against the doorframe. Tension even thicker than the dust on the counters befell them.

“Does this place bring back any memories, Phrix?”

Nox stared at Winsweep. It took him a moment to realize the intention behind the words. His eyes narrowed as he responded sharply, “No, it doesn’t. I’ve never been here before.”

“How come? You and Plague and Helle were all a team. I’d have thought you all lived in the same base.”

“We did. But it wasn’t here.” Nox hesitated, biting his lip. “They probably moved once we—y'know. Fell apart. I don’t know anything about this place.”

A beat of silence passed.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Why would I?”

Winsweep’s tone turned suddenly acidic. “I don’t know, Phrixus. Why would you be lying to me now after you have been for years? It’s such a mystery.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and stalked closer to Nox.

Nox glared at him. “I’ve never lied to you, Win,” he snapped. “Knock it off.”

“Oh, that’s right. You just never told me you used to be a villain, just that you were a vigilante. That’s my bad, I guess!”

Nox didn’t have a response, his antennae drooping and wings itching to puff out in defense. But he stifled the urge. Even as Winsweep took yet another step closer, he stifled the urge, and his fingers dug into the wooden countertop.

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” replied Nox, each word careful and tense. “I meant to tell you eventually. I wanted to; I mean, I needed to. But Plague—beat me to it.” He regained some of his composure, and he looked Winsweep in the eye. “I’m not a part of Rattenheim anymore,” he said, practically pleaded. “I wouldn’t betray you guys like that. Really. I’m being honest.”

Winsweep stood with crossed arms, like a child trying to preserve warmth in the freezing cold. He seemed to lose a bit of bark the longer Nox stared at him.

Winsweep turned away and said, “I wanna believe you, but it’s—”

He cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath. Nox, suddenly on high alert, looked around to try and find what had startled his teammate. But there was nothing there. Just bits of dust flying in the sunlight. He peered back at Winsweep with a furrowed brow. Yet Winsweep didn’t even glance at him, instead huffily walking to the other side of the kitchen and towards a closed door.

“Nevermind,” murmured Winsweep. “Let’s just keep looking. There’s ought to be a way... down.”

He opened the door and went inside the adjacent room. Nox stayed put, though, staring at the sink basin as he leaned against it. Bits and pieces of anger swirled inside him, a violent twister that caused his stomach to borderline burst at the seams, all the while he tried his best to subdue it.

Why was Winsweep holding such a large grudge? It wasn’t as though Nox had intentionally lied – it wasn’t like he was still a villain, was still associated with Rattenheim. Strangely, though, the blatant distrust annoyed Nox more than it angered him. But even then, the annoyance was at best like a fly buzzing around his head. He could not pinpoint why he didn’t feel so... strongly about Winsweep’s misplaced paranoia. Had he just gotten used to the remarks, ones that had fluttered inside his own brain for so many years? Or, subconsciously, did he realize that Winsweep didn’t even really mean what he’d said? Nox was more inclined to believe the former. But as the latter thought stewed in his mind, he couldn’t get rid of it.

You shouldn’t dwell on it, his conscience told him. You shouldn’t pry. If only it were that easy.

Nox looked at the door Winsweep had gone through. He debated internally with himself: Did he want to deal with his teammate at the moment? He supposed there wasn’t much of a choice. He knew Winsweep was rash at the best of times, and the idea of him potentially setting off a trap – or, Gods forbid, getting hurt again – made Nox’s eye twitch. So, he steeled his shoulders, and he followed Winsweep out of the room.

The doorway had led into a dining area, fit with a rectangular table, chairs sat around it, and other odds and ends Nox didn’t look at close enough to identify. Nothing there caught his eye; he walked through the room without much thought, and he went through another door and into the hallway. He slowly came to a stop in the middle of it, straining his hearing just the tiniest bit. Quiet, creaking footsteps came from a room on the left side, with its oak door slightly ajar. Nox stepped up to it. The footfalls ceased once he did. He stopped for a moment, tugging his bandana down, then he gently pushed the door open.

A rather large bedroom was revealed to him. A queen-sized bed was tucked against the back wall, a nightstand and a bookshelf placed on either side of it, and a grand, red-and-gold rug was lying in front. The curtains in the room had been thrown open, and rummaging through the nightstand’s drawers was Winsweep, looking like a deer in headlights as he gazed at Nox over his shoulder. Nox walked further into the room, stopping beside his teammate.

“You found anything?” asked Nox as he motioned to the nightstand. Winsweep seemed to snap out of whatever catatonic state he’d been in, and he hummed, holding up a damaged leather-bound book.

“Only this,” he replied, and he flipped through a couple pages. “It’s empty, though.... Well, almost – there is this one page, see?”

He turned the book around to show Nox. The page he’d been referring to was more crinkled than the rest, and in the middle of it was the outline of a hand. Small, faded splotches of ink marred the paper, as though whoever had drawn it had been in a rush. Nox furrowed his brow and said slowly, “Weird.” He paused. “You sure there’s nothing else in it?”

“You can check if you want. But I found nothing.”

Winsweep handed the book off to him and looked at Nox expectantly. Nox glanced at the book, staring at the hand for a second. Then, he began to skim through it, seeing blank page after blank page until he reached the end. He frowned, flipping back to the hand.

“Do you see what I mean?” asked Winsweep with a hint of amusement.

Nox nodded, but he couldn’t help but feel that something about the book wasn’t right. Maybe it was the way the leather felt on his palms – tacky, artificially weathered –, or how it seemed just a bit too heavy for a book of its size, or how the color of it reminded him a bit too much of dried blood. Whichever way, alarm bells went off in Nox’s mind.

“Why would they have this?” he mumbled to himself, though he was loud enough for his teammate to hear.

“It might be a red herring,” suggested Winsweep, crossing his arms. He barked out a short laugh. “They want us to get so distracted by it that we miss something obvious. That’s what I think.”

“It might be.” Nox turned the book over in his palms, grimacing at it. “I don’t know. It feels like something they’d do, but I don’t think... this is the distraction.”

For an agonizing minute, Winsweep didn’t do anything except peer at Nox. Then, he shrugged, and he closed the drawer he’d been looking through before opening the top one.

“You know them better than I do,” he conceded.

Nox’s eyes narrowed at the jab. He was about to turn and go search somewhere else, but that was when Winsweep made an eager sort of noise, beckoning him closer.

“Oh, look, Phrix!” exclaimed Winsweep as he was practically elbow-deep inside the drawer. “It’s another book.” He straightened back up, and in his grasp was a bright orange volume, which he gave to Nox. He again went back to rummaging through the drawer. “And another one.” Without even lifting his head, he handed off said book to Nox. “And a fourth!” That one was given to Nox, too.

Nox, now struggling to keep all four heavy books from tumbling to the floor, plopped them down onto the bed, a small puff of dust rising from the duvet. The books were all different colors: One red, one orange, one purple, and one black. Winsweep came over and started to flip through the orange volume, while Nox just ran his fingers across the spine of the black one.

After a minute of silently observing the books, Winsweep suddenly said, “This one also has a hand.”

He showed the page to Nox. Lo and behold, a hand identical to the one inside the first book was plastered there on it. Quickly, Nox grabbed the black book, perused through it, and stopped once he saw a page with a hand.

“They all must have one,” he reasoned. He idly touched fingertips with the hand, and strangely, his wings started to vibrate, almost as though reacting to it. It made Nox pause. A shiver ran through him, touching bone, and he took his hand off the page. He frowned. They have got to mean something.

As Winsweep busied himself with looking through the remaining books, Nox focused his sights on the shelf. There was only one book in it: a pink one, propped up against the side. Nox stared at it for a long moment, just thinking to himself. Could it be a puzzle, or a secret code they needed for something? Or Winsweep could be right, and these volumes were only a ruse so they’d waste their time. But Nox didn’t think so. He touched the open book again, this time putting his entire hand on it, and the one on the page matched his perfectly.

His eyes glued onto the shelf, Nox began to walk over to it. The floorboards groaned underneath him.

“Phrix?” From the corner of his vision, he saw Winsweep look up and tilt his head, like a curious dog. “What’re you...?”

Nox walked right up to the bookshelf, and he turned the book over in his hands, weighing it, looking at the pink one already placed inside. He then reached up, and he set the black book right beside it.

Nothing happened for a minute. He heard Winsweep step up behind him, and the two vigilantes didn’t say a word as they stood, waiting. Waiting for anything.

Then, from the top of the shelf, what looked like a black, miniature pistol popped up with a mechanical click, and it aimed right at Nox’s forehead. Both him and Winsweep startled as, instead of a gunshot, a blue light emitted from the barrel, scanning them up and down with the precision of a Terminator. A moment later, just as suddenly as it appeared, the pistol vanished back into the bookshelf.

The air grew stagnant and silent.

Nox started to blink wildly. “What was that?” he sputtered, turning to his teammate.

Winsweep seemed like he was about to respond, but he was delayed by an ear-splitting screech of metal-on-metal, causing Nox to cover his ears. They both turned to the source.

The carpet at the front of the room was sliding away, along with the floor underneath it, revealing a cavernous spiral staircase that led down, down, down. Oak railings materialized, surrounding the hole in the floor. Nox immediately ran over to the newfound passage, and he gripped the railing while looking over the edge. He saw nothing but marble stairs and deep darkness. Winsweep was peering down similarly, making a noise that might’ve been of wonderment, then placed his foot on the first step. Nox glanced at him, frowning.

“Be careful,” he warned as his teammate took a few steps down. “We don’t know where it leads.”

“I’m always careful,” replied Winsweep with an audible beam. “And it leads down, Phrix, can’t you tell?”

Nox sighed. “Not what I meant.”

Winsweep laughed, and Nox started to trail behind him down the stairs. Almost immediately after, the passage closed above them. And the further they went, the more difficult it was to see through the darkness. Nox had to squint in order to make out the next step that was right in front of him. If he wasn’t careful, he was guaranteed to trip and fall and probably take Winsweep down with him. Said vigilante was bounding quickly down the stairs, as though not noticing the distinct lack of light.

Nox didn’t know how large the spiral staircase was, but it wasn’t long before he heard Winsweep hop off the last step, and thereafter, the lights to the bunker they found themselves in automatically turned on. Nox blinked several times as his eyes adjusted, and he himself made it to the bottom of the stairs, looking around wondrously. The area was spacious, a hundred yards wide and made of solid metal, and filled with various piles of scrap and small trinkets. Up ahead where Winsweep was standing, there was a towering doorway leading into another room of sorts. Nox touched one of the walls; it was freezing cold. If he focused, he could sense faintly a mechanical rumbling wade through his palm. He walked along the wall, and his eyes flicked from pile to pile, from floor to ceiling, from Winsweep to the doorway, looking for any irregularities that may signal a trap.

Winsweep stared at him as he came closer. Nox would’ve almost called his gaze curious, but he couldn’t tell exactly. Regardless, he gave his teammate a simple, silent look in return, and once they were side by side, the two vigilantes continued into the next room.

Impossibly so, this room was even bigger than the previous. Lining one of the metallic walls was an assortment of weapons, like a mini armory, ranging from swords to axes to scythes and more Nox couldn’t make out. On the wall adjacent to it was an area for lodging, complete with three beds. What seemed to be a workstation was established in one corner, a training area in another, and in the middle of the room was an enormous security camera system; at least a dozen TV screens were set up, each displaying a different view of the cabin’s interior or exterior, its wires snaking across the floor like oil leaks, and with a lone computer stationed in the center of all the chaos.

Nox looked around with wide eyes. This was certainly a step-up from the hospital’s tunnels. He wondered how Plague and Helle managed to acquire the materials for everything here, and how they built all of it in the span of just five years. But he didn’t think too hard about it – he was more focused on searching for traps. He thought he saw a ceiling panel that looked somewhat loose, yet the moment he blinked, it had righted itself. You’re being paranoid, he told himself.

Footsteps came from beside him. He glanced over to see his teammate walking towards the lodging area. Curious, he followed Winsweep, watching as the vigilante sat on one of the beds with a dramatic sigh. Winsweep hummed, patting the mattress a couple of times.

“It’s too firm,” he concluded with an air of finality, leaning back on the heels of his palms.

Nox rolled his eyes. “Okay, Goldilocks. Let’s not critique their porridge next. Get up and focus.”

“All right, all right, fine.”

Although he was no doubt pouting to the sun and back, Winsweep stood, and his gaze lingered on the beds for longer than what would be considered normal. Nox raised a brow.

“Thinking of something?” he questioned.

Winsweep nodded slowly and said, “Yeah.” He motioned to the lodging area. “Plague and Helle have three beds here, even though they’re a two-person team.”

Nox stared at the beds, as though he only now noticed the number of them. He frowned. As he thought more about the fact, a surprising dose of bitterness molded itself inside his brain. He didn’t like what three beds could entail for Rattenheim.

“They must have a new teammate,” he mused. He hoped his vexation didn’t bleed into his tone.

He heard Winsweep murmur something, but he was too distracted to make it out, beginning to make his way over to the security footage. There were five screens facing his way, all of them showing the perimeter of the cabin from varying angles. As Nox got closer, he noticed Invictus on one of the cameras, strolling around by the edge of the foliage. Another showed footage from just above the front door; evidence of their break-in was found in the broken doorknob, lying halfway in-frame. Nox walked until he was in front of the computer, and he squinted at its blank screen. Winsweep, meanwhile, was circling around the security area like a cat with a bug,

“I never even saw any cameras,” said Winsweep, peering up at a screen that displayed the cabin’s kitchen. “And they have the whole place monitored? That’s creepy.”

Nox hummed in agreement, and he sensed his teammate stop a little ways behind him, just as he leaned over and hit the power button on the computer. It took a moment for the monitor to flicker on, and a white screen that was borderline blinding appeared. Then, it slowly whirred to life. It switched to a black screen, with white text reading PASSWORD? and a little text box underneath.

Nox grimaced. He had not an inkling about what the password could be. How could he? But despite that, his hands hovered over the keyboard, and he hit a key at random.

Suddenly, the camera’s light flashed. The screen turned blue, the text and text box disappearing, and a computerized voice sounded from the monitor:

“Welcome, Phrixus.”

The desktop’s home screen appeared, and Nox stared at it, his eyes widening to saucers. Almost self-consciously, he pulled his bandana back up over his nose. His eyes raked over the apps and files he could see, and a pit akin to a boulder appeared in his stomach. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Winsweep just as bewildered as he was. But instead, his teammate was standing tensely with crossed arms, his fingers holding onto his own sleeve in a death grip. The eyes of his callous mask looked at Nox, and Nox felt the boulder jump into his throat. What felt like an hour passed in only a few seconds. Neither of them spoke.

“You sure cracked the code quick,” snarked Winsweep, his voice cold like the blade of a knife. If it were somehow possible, his grip on his sleeve tightened.

“I-- I don’t--”

“Don’t even, Phrix. I don’t wanna be lied to.”

Nox got over his shock long enough to hiss, “Just listen to me.” He paused, just to make sure he wouldn’t be interrupted, and his antennae wilted, lying flat on his head. “It looks bad. Gods, I know it does, but you have to trust me.”

“You want me to trust you? After everything that’s happened here, you expect me to trust you?” Winsweep scoffed. “Yeah, sure, of course I will, because that’s such a bright idea.”

Nox wanted to scream that, no, it wasn’t like that, but Winsweep continued before he could even open his mouth:

“I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. But I—you've hidden so much stuff from me, it doesn’t feel like you ever were one.” Halfway through, his voice had begun to unspool like string. He turned his head away, and Nox thought he heard what sounded like a sniffle, but he couldn’t be for sure. Winsweep went on fiercely, “I don’t know you. I don’t know your past, I don’t know your life, I don’t know your fears....” He shook his head with a burst of melancholy.

“Gods, Phrix. I don’t even know your real name. How tragic is that?”

Nox stood as though he was a puppet with its strings severed. The numbness of shock had long worn off by then, and it gave way to an acidic, curdled taste in his mouth, forming a lagoon at the bottom of his throat. But instead of bile coming up and painting the ground, sharp words did instead:

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Win.”

Winsweep, obviously taken aback, looked at Nox again. Nox could only imagine the look on his face: Anger, most likely, perhaps even disgust or confusion. Or maybe Winsweep was looking at him with caution. Nox didn’t know which he’d like to see, and that just made him more upset.

He stepped closer to Winsweep, raising his voice and saying, “I can’t stand it. You wanna harp on me about not telling you my past, meanwhile you’re hiding your own skeletons. You say that you’re open, you say that you’re honest, but really, you’re the most closed-off asshole I’ve ever met.” His fists clenched as he resisted the urge to grab at Winsweep. “I’ve tried to get you to be honest, but you just squirm your way out of telling me. I’m over it. So, go ahead and say that I’m in the wrong for keeping secrets. No matter what, you’ll always be guiltier than me.”

“I have nothing to hide!” argued Winsweep as he backed away a step. “The only reason I haven’t said anything is because it’s unimportant. But you being a former villain is pretty important, I’d say!” He gestured to nothing, acting akin to a madman. “I have nothing to hide,” he repeated. “I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done.”

Nox’s eyes zeroed in on Winsweep’s arm being tossed around in the air. Though it was slightly covered by the edge of his glove, Nox could see it clearly: A thin, pale scar, perfectly straight and neat there near his wrist. His patience, long overdue, finally tipped and shattered.

“Oh, yeah?” challenged Nox. “Then what’s this, then?”

In the blink of an eye, he’d surged forward, grabbing Winsweep’s forearm, and he ripped his glove off before the vigilante could react beyond a strangled gasp. Nox immediately saw what he’d been looking for. Even more of those thin scars littered his teammate’s wrist, some appearing older than others, some wider and deeper. But Nox was unable to get a closer look, since Winsweep began trying to wrestle out of his grip while simultaneously reaching for his glove. Nox attempted to keep hold of him, but Winsweep kneed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making him grunt.

“Get your goddamn hands off me, you prick!” shouted Winsweep, just as he successfully wretched his glove from Nox and put it back on. Nox pushed him, almost sending him to the floor.

“Tell me what happened, Win,” he demanded. “Tell me what happened with the Warden. Tell me what happened with that villain.”

“I don’t have to tell you jack-shit.”

The final strand holding Nox’s composure snapped. He once again seized Winsweep’s arm, yet the moment he did, Winsweep headbutted him square in the jaw. But still, Nox didn’t relinquish his grip.

“You’re acting crazy!” growled Winsweep. Nox sent him an icy glare and a scowl.

He whirled around, dragging his teammate along, and forcefully shoved Winsweep onto the desk. Several keys were pushed as Winsweep landed on the keyboard with a yelp, the monitor dangerously close to toppling over, and Nox boxed him in. He reeled his arm back for a punch, yet his teammate caught his fist before it could make contact, and their hands were stuck in a deadlock mid-air. Nox grunted as his muscles pulsed with the effort. His other hand moved, tearing Winsweep’s off his wing and pinning it to the desk. In some form of desperate escape attempt, Winsweep started kicking out at him, but it seemed to be more of an involuntary movement than a conscious one. Nox stood firm, though, and he watched his teammate wrestle and writhe to get away.

That was when, slowly, something dawned on Nox.

Usually, when in a physical altercation without weapons, Nox would do everything in his power to subdue the adversary. Whether that be through knocking them off their feet, or pinning them to the ground, or immobilizing their arms or their legs; Nox fought to subdue. Winsweep, though, fought to injure. He threw punches and slaps, bit and kicked at people, targeting them where it’d hurt the most. He was vicious and unapologetic, not afraid to get his hands bloody. That wasn’t what was happening now.

Nox was fighting Winsweep as though he were an enemy. But Winsweep wasn’t doing that. Winsweep was fighting Nox like how a cornered prey animal fought a predator. Desperate, haphazardly, unable to do anything except bare its blunt teeth as though they were fangs.

Winsweep was fighting Nox like he was scared of him.

The realization made Nox feel utterly sick. That nauseous feeling was only heightened as Winsweep thrashed his head a bit, dislodging his mask in the process, and Nox met eyes with his now uncovered one. And the veneer of anger did nothing to bury the fear lingering in his gaze. Guilt ran over Nox like a freight train. He recoiled back from his teammate as though he’d touched fire, taking multiple steps away from the desk.

Now, the only sounds in the room were the two vigilantes’ panting. Nox stared as Winsweep slowly slid off the desk, his wrist cradled close to him, just like it had been when it was broken. With the adrenaline wearing down, Nox was cognizant of the faint aches and pains in his body, but they could not compare to the overwhelming, scratchy fabric of guilt draping itself over his head. He took several deep breaths before he felt capable of speaking.

“You won’t tell me anything.” Nox rolled his shoulders back and breathed in through his teeth. “All right.”

Winsweep only looked at him, his mask now back in place. Nox hadn’t even seen him fix it. Maybe it had never moved in the first place. They stared at each other in silence that was as loud as an explosion. Then, Winsweep took a few wobbly steps forward. Nox wanted to help steady him, but he knew that would only make things worse, so he instead crossed his arms and sighed wearily.

“Go back upstairs, Win,” he said, voice harboring no emotion. “See if you can find anything else up there. Or go and hang out with Invictus, I don’t care. I’ve got this handled.

He brushed past Winsweep to set the keyboard and the monitor straight. Removing any evidence of the scene that had occurred. He felt Winsweep’s eyes cutting into his neck, and though beads of sweat formed on his brow, he refused to let any of his guilt or trepidation show. He heard Winsweep shuffle in place.

“I don’t wanna leave,” replied Winsweep simply.

Admittedly, the statement made Nox lower his guard. He almost caved and let his teammate stay with him. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to do something else he’d regret.

“You should,” said Nox. “Don’t worry about me. Just go.”

“Phrix--”

“I said go, Winsweep.”

Winsweep was quiet for a minute. “Fine,” he said finally, quietly.

He turned and began walking away. Nox let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Then, he heard a click; like a machine being activated, coming from the ceiling above. Nox didn’t have any time to discern what it could mean.

Because just as Winsweep was about to take another step, four towering glass walls dropped from the ceiling to surround him, shaking the room with a booming thud as they landed. Nox yelped at their sudden entrance, and as soon as he realized Winsweep’s predicament, he scrambled into action, running over to his teammate with his pulse going a mile a minute, his eyes wide with concern.

“Win!” he called through the glass. But it seemed as though Winsweep couldn’t hear him, the vigilante staggering to his feet with obvious panic.

Nox looked on as Winsweep started to ram his shoulder continuously into the glass, as though hoping it would break and no doubt bruising himself in the process. Nox could just barely hear the grunts his teammate was producing, his panting breaths that only became louder and louder. Winsweep suddenly stopped, holding his arm with pain written clear as day on his body. He then reached behind him, and he produced Invictus’ battle hammer from thin air. He swung it at the wall again and again. And though it caused dull thunks to ring out each time, the glass proved unbreakable. Nox heard Winsweep let out a muffle scream of frustration and stow the battle hammer away. He banged on the glass to get his attention.

“Calm down, Win!” yelled Nox. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. I’ll get you out, just hang in there. It’s gonna be--”

Nox cut himself off when his gaze traveled upwards. The ceiling tile right above Winsweep had slid open, and a purple gas-like substance, almost completely transparent, was being sprayed into the enclosed area. Winsweep began coughing as soon as the mist reached him, and he held onto a glass wall for support, but it didn’t help as he slid to his knees. As Winsweep’s movements became sluggish and further apart, his keens of pain no longer audible, Nox’s panic tripled in size.

“Oh, my Gods,” he said. He pounded his fists on the glass and shouted, “Win! Win!”

It was no use; his teammate was knocked out cold on the floor. Then, the purple mist at last fully dissipated. And just a second later, the glass walls began to rise back into the ceiling. Nox immediately grabbed at Winsweep, dragging him a couple steps, and dropped to one knee beside his dormant form.

“Come on,” muttered Nox as he pulled Winsweep closer to himself. He heard his teammate’s short breaths beside his ear. Relief crashed over him. “It’s okay, Win,” he breathed shakily, “just hang in there.”

He grunted as he stood, Winsweep laid over his shoulder in a firefighter’s carry. It took a few steps for him to find his balance again, but once he did, he practically sprinted over to the door, willing himself not to stumble.

Just as Nox was about to reach the entryway, though, it was blocked by two sliding doors suddenly knocking against each other. Nox skidded to a halt, steadied Winsweep, and made a frustrated noise. That was their only plausible form of escape. Sweat beaded on Nox’s forehead as he pulled his comm out of his pocket. They needed Invictus’ help, and quick.

But that was when he heard it: A pair of footsteps, walking up behind him. He stilled, and his breaths came in short, quiet, desperate bursts. He didn’t speak, didn’t even move until he heard the footfalls stop. A familiar voice rang out.

“Drop him, Nox.”

Nox clenched his jaw. Slowly, he turned. He was met with the sight of a sword being pointed right at his chest. Plague looked at him with the beady eyes of his rat mask.

Nox held his teammate tighter. "No."

The doorway opened again, and Nox whirled around to see his sister standing there, axe in hand, a glower on her face. Nox stepped away from her. But that only brought him closer to Plague. He looked between them, and his resolve faltered as he saw there was no way out. Nox slipped his comm back into his pocket, and he instead took hold of his dagger.

“Oh, don’t do that,” scolded Helle. They circled around to stand by Plague, looking Nox up and down with barely hidden contempt. “And don’t be stubborn. You’ll just make things harder.”

The door was unblocked. Nox could just leave now, could sprint away and not look back until he was at Oceana’s base once again. But his own feet prevented him from traveling more than a handful of steps; the body on his shoulder prevented him from running fast enough. He was stuck with his head underwater, and he didn’t see a conceivable route of escape not involving him leaving his teammate behind. He couldn’t do that. Despite Winsweep being nothing more than dead weight in his arms, he couldn’t do that. Nox allowed this thought to trump all others, especially the tiny one whispering in his ear that it’d be much easier if he listened and dropped Winsweep.

Except this small voice grew louder the longer silence reigned. Nox pushed it into the back of his mind. He angled Winsweep’s body away from the villains.

“Let us go,” demanded Nox, a slight warble to his voice.

Plague hummed as though contemplating his words. “All right,” he eventually said, and his sword lowered. “You can leave. Just make sure to drop Winsweep off before you go, okay? We have some business with him.”

There came a lengthy pause.

“I’m not doing that.”

“And why not?” Helle took a step closer to Nox, scoffing. “We’re giving you a chance to escape, and you aren’t taking it?”

“I’m not leaving Win behind.”

Plague tilted his head, and there was a smile in his tone as he reassured, “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of him. Leave him here, and we’ll both be on our merry ways.”

“What do you even want with him?” questioned Nox.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern, is it?”

Nox went quiet. He could feel Winsweep’s slow breaths against his shoulder, and they allowed him to stay tethered in the moment, to not let his thoughts completely consume him. But even still, his mind was a battle zone. And in due time, only one thought emerged from it victoriously:

He’d have to listen. If he wanted to have a shot at making it back, he’d have to do as they said.

He slipped Winsweep off his shoulder, simply holding him there for a second, then stooped down. He laid his teammate on the floor gently. It was unnerving how still and quiet Winsweep was; it was like he was a long-dead corpse. Nox didn’t want to think about that. Heart racing, he leaned over and mouthed into Winsweep’s ear, “I’ll come back.” He then rose to his full height. He stared down at the other vigilante and took a step back from his comatose figure. Almost immediately after, the guilt scraped its claws across his abdomen. Now wasn’t the time, though. He swallowed, stepping back again, closer to the doorway.

Plague holstered his sword. He grinned at Nox before walking over and picking Winsweep up in a cradle-like carry. Winsweep’s head laid limp on Plague’s shoulder. If Nox didn’t know the villain, he would’ve called the gesture rather... tender. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and pangs of doubt set fire to the back of his throat. This was a bad idea. He berated himself: He was an idiot for thinking it would work.

“Wow, Nox,” said Helle, crossing her arms. “You folded pretty easily. It’s like you want to leave Winsweep behind.” She laughed a bit.

Nox knew they were just trying to get a rise out of him, but that didn’t stop him from snapping at his twin, “You don’t know anything.” He took a breath to calm himself, shoulders tensed to his ears, antennae flat against his head. His wings itched to wrap around himself.

Plague adjusted his hold on Winsweep and gave Nox a smile.

The villain said, “You better leave, before you don’t make it back to Invictus.”

With a batch of hesitancy that threatened to pummel him to the ground, Nox stepped backwards. His heart pounded against his ribcage as though it were an inmate wrongfully imprisoned, and his ears picked up on every shuffle of fabric, every buzz from the lights overhead. He walked until he was in the other room; he kept his eyes on his teammate and Rattenheim the entire time. Plague had lifted Winsweep’s mask over his nose, tilting the vigilante’s head back, and Helle was pouring a gray, glowing liquid down his throat. A second later, Winsweep was rendered invisible. Helle took a swig of the potion then handed the vial to Plague, who drank some of it as well. Before Nox could even blink, the two of them disappeared, too.

He stared at the spot where the villains had just been. He could slightly hear their footsteps getting further away, and his hand clenched around his dagger, yet he knew it’d be useless to try and go after them. Not for the first time, he scolded himself for his impulsiveness. He had really just let them take Winsweep, huh? Even without a full plan in mind on how to get him back? Gods, what kind of teammate was he?

But there was still hope, he felt. If he was fast enough, then he could tell Invictus and Will, and they’d stop Rattenheim before they could get too far. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Nox held too much guilt on his shoulders for him to care.

His hand brushed against the railing of the spiral staircase. He gripped it for dear life. Then, he pulled out his comm, and he started sprinting up the flight of steps.