#thickness gauge meter

[fathimaglobo]

How Do Air Quality Meters Help in Ensuring a Healthier Living Environment?

In our modern, increasingly industrialized and urbanized society, the quality of the air we inhale is more important than it has ever been. Unhealthy air quality can significantly impact health, comfort, and productivity levels. From residences and workplaces to educational institutions and medical facilities, ensuring clean air is vital for general health. This is where air quality meters become relevant—sophisticated instruments created to track and evaluate air contaminants, enabling individuals and organizations to implement the required actions to foster healthier environments. 

Air quality meters are advanced devices that feature sophisticated sensors capable of identifying a variety of pollutants. These contaminants consist of particulate matter (PM2.5 and PM10), volatile organic compounds (VOCs), carbon monoxide (CO), nitrogen dioxide (NO₂), sulfur dioxide (SO₂), and various other harmful gases. Through the ongoing observation of these elements, air quality meters deliver immediate data, allowing users to efficiently control and enhance their air quality. 

One of the key advantages of air quality meters is their capacity to provide instant information about the level of air pollution. Through real-time monitoring, both individuals and businesses can implement effective measures to improve their surroundings. For example, homeowners can track air quality in different parts of their homes, enhancing ventilation and utilizing air purifiers to remove harmful contaminants. In work environments, maintaining clean air boosts employee well-being, decreases absenteeism, and enhances overall performance. 

Moreover, air quality monitors are essential in detecting concealed contaminants that might be overlooked without adequate surveillance. Indoor air frequently gathers contaminants from routine activities, including cooking, cleaning, and the application of synthetic materials. VOCs, for instance, are often present in paints, glues, and domestic cleaning supplies, leading to diminished air quality. Air quality monitors assist in identifying these contaminants, enabling individuals to implement steps to reduce exposure and foster healthier environments. 

In professional settings like schools and healthcare facilities, ensuring excellent air quality is crucial for safety and adherence to health regulations. For educational institutions, fresh air creates a favorable learning atmosphere, devoid of allergens and contaminants that might affect student achievement. In hospitals, monitoring air quality is essential to minimize infection risks and ensure a safe environment for both patients and staff. 

Additionally, companies are progressively acknowledging the significance of air quality meters to meet industry standards and ensure a safe work environment. Through the use of these devices, organizations can track air quality and make required changes to foster a safer, more pleasant atmosphere for workers and guests. 

Intelligent air quality meters provide a more sophisticated option for managing air quality. These devices effortlessly connect with home automation systems, providing automated regulation of air purifiers, ventilation systems, and various environmental elements. By means of wireless connections and immediate data assessment, smart meters offer users easy management and enhanced insights into their air quality. 

AAM Trading is recognized as a reliable source of premium air quality monitoring solutions. AAM Trading, dedicated to innovation and dependability, provides an extensive selection of sophisticated air quality meters designed to meet diverse requirements. For residential, commercial, or industrial applications, their products guarantee precise, high-quality air monitoring. AAM Trading’s commitment to providing solutions that focus on customer satisfaction has established their reputation for excellence. 

Alongside offering advanced air quality meters, AAM Trading delivers professional consultation and assistance to aid clients in enhancing their air quality management systems. Their group of experts collaborates closely with clients to grasp particular requirements and provide solutions that address their individual needs. AAM Trading prioritizes precision and performance, guaranteeing that each solution is crafted to provide accurate, real-time insights on air quality. 

AAM Trading is more than a source of advanced technology; they are collaborators in fostering healthier, safer surroundings. Their all-encompassing strategy guarantees that clients obtain solutions that are customized, dependable, and supported by outstanding service. With ongoing innovation and a focus on customer needs, AAM Trading continues to be a reliable name in air quality monitoring solutions.

[dcashew45]

Precision Ultrasonic Thickness Measurement Services in Pune

Precision and Reliability: Ultrasonic Thickness Measurement Services

Integrated NDE is a leading provider of ultrasonic thickness measurement services, offering precise and reliable non-destructive testing solutions for various industries. Ultrasonic thickness measurement (UTM) is essential for monitoring the integrity and safety of structures and components, such as pipelines, tanks, and structural steel. This advanced technique utilizes high-frequency sound waves to measure material thickness accurately, ensuring early detection of corrosion, erosion, and other forms of degradation.

Comprehensive Ultrasonic Thickness Measurement Services

Integrated NDE’s ultrasonic thickness measurement services encompass a wide range of applications, including ultrasonic thickness testing, ultrasonic metal thickness testing, and non-destructive thickness measurement. Our services are designed to provide detailed insights into the condition of metal structures without causing any damage. This is achieved through the use of state-of-the-art ultra sonic thickness gauges and ultrasonic thickness meters.

Advanced Techniques and Equipment

Our team employs the latest UTM ultrasonic thickness measurement techniques, ensuring the highest level of accuracy and reliability. The UT thickness gauges and ultrasonic metal thickness testers used in our services are capable of providing precise measurements, even in challenging conditions. These advanced tools allow for the detection of minimal thickness variations, which are crucial for maintaining structural integrity.

Industry Applications

Integrated NDE’s ultrasonic thickness measurement services are utilized across various industries, including oil and gas, power generation, manufacturing, and construction. Regular metal thickness testing is vital for these sectors to monitor the health of their equipment and infrastructure. Our services help clients adhere to industry standards and regulatory requirements, ensuring the safety and longevity of their assets.

Benefits of Ultrasonic Thickness Measurement

Ultrasonic thickness measurement offers numerous benefits, including:

Non-destructive Testing: UTM is a non-invasive method, meaning that it does not harm the tested materials.

Accuracy: The use of advanced ultrasonic thickness meters and UT thickness gauges ensures highly accurate measurements.

Early Detection: Ultrasonic testing thickness measurement allows for the early detection of corrosion and erosion, preventing potential failures.

Cost-Effective: Regular UTM thickness measurement can save costs by avoiding unexpected repairs and downtime.

Expertise and Experience

Integrated NDE boasts a team of highly skilled professionals with extensive experience in ultrasonic thickness measurement services. Our experts are proficient in using UTM NDT techniques to provide comprehensive assessments and actionable insights. We are committed to delivering high-quality services that meet our clients’ specific needs and exceed their expectations.

Customized Solutions

We understand that each client has unique requirements, and we offer customized ultrasonic thickness measurement solutions tailored to their specific needs. Whether you need routine inspections or detailed evaluations, Integrated NDE has the expertise and equipment to deliver reliable results.

Commitment to Quality

Quality is at the core of our services. Integrated NDE adheres to stringent quality control measures and follows industry best practices to ensure the accuracy and reliability of our ultrasonic thickness measurement services. Our commitment to quality has made us a trusted partner for clients seeking dependable NDT thickness testing solutions.

Conclusion

Integrated NDE’s ultrasonic thickness measurement services provide a critical solution for maintaining the safety and integrity of metal structures. By leveraging advanced UTM ultrasonic thickness measurement techniques and state-of-the-art equipment, we deliver precise and reliable non-destructive thickness measurements. Our expertise and commitment to quality make us the preferred choice for clients across various industries. Trust Integrated NDE for your ultrasonic thickness measurement needs and ensure the longevity and reliability of your assets.

For more information, visit Integrated NDE Ultrasonic Thickness Measurement.

[its-luna-noel]

in my restless dreams, i see you | various!jjk x reader

04. hopping out the grave, no face, bones shudder

Vampire lord Ryomen Sukuna gives you the gift of eternal life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. vampire lord!sukuna x reader vampire!geto x reader vampire hunter!gojo x reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, vampire!au, smut, drinking, partying, non-con elements, blood drinking, vampire turning, violence & blood, definite dark themes so DD:DNE

word count: 2.6k

chapter 4/? (probably 18ish) previous chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: sorry friends, no smut today, need this chapter to set up for the future ones but hey we're meeting new characters today! anyway, back to warnings: death, blood drinking

Your name looks so haunting on a headstone.

The day of your funeral is a sunny day, which feels wrong to your family and friends; shouldn’t it be raining, dark and stormy like how all their hearts feel? Shouldn’t the sky be as black as their mourning clothes, instead of the sun beating down and making their bodies warm when their lives are now so cold and empty without you?

As light slowly begins to bleed away into night, the last ones still standing at your grave are Nobara and Maki, because they were also the last ones to see you alive, and they feel like it’s simply penance for letting you go home alone with a stranger.

For letting you die on your birthday.

A utility worker found you the morning after your death, cold and pale on the harsh concrete of the alley you died in. The police said you must have been assaulted and your throat slit with some sort of sharp impaling weapon, leaving two gaping wounds in your neck. Nobara and Maki gave them the description of the man you left with, his stature and tattoos presumably unique enough to draw attention to him as soon as he comes back out into the sunlight.

He still hasn’t been found.

And so, with tearful goodbyes, the girls finally turn and leave you as the sun finally sinks beneath the horizon.

Shadows grow long, and darkness overtakes the sky as your body lies six-feet under, locked in a pretty wooden casket your family so lovingly chose for your eternal rest.

Hours pass.

Then, buried beneath consecrated ground, your curse finally takes hold, and the wounds on your throat close and scar over. Your body lies still, unmoving, pale, bloodless.

Then, when the bells chime three o’clock, in the deepest dark of the night, eyes open, and you take your first breath of your undead life.

It’s a gasping breath, heavy and shaking, and you��re already suffocating because you’re buried beneath meters of dirt and the oxygen in your little box is stale and scant. Your nails scrape at the velvet lining of your casket, and you can’t even think through your gasps enough to try and scream for help.

Your nails tear through the fabric, shredding it. They gauge the wood underneath, but it’s not enough to lift the lid; you’re locked in, and buried under several feet of heavy dirt.

In your panic, you punch a hole through the inch-thick wood. Your mind isn’t clear enough for you to be able to tell that this is a strange feat for you.

As soon as you shove your way through, dirt begins filling your casket, draining through the hole like an hourglass, moving far too fast for your comfort. You let out a cry, and when you try to gasp for another breath, you breathe in dirt and gravel, choking on it, coughing and gagging while you try to dig your way out.

It’s grueling, agonizing. There’s dirt under your fingernails, dirt filling your mouth, dirt in your lungs. You’re drowning in it, and your only instinct is to just keep digging, to reach the surface so you can breathe, so you can greet the world reborn.

And so you claw your way up. You don’t know how long it takes you. But finally, once your nails are ruined and there’s filth between your teeth, you break the surface.

Moonlight shines down, and you take your first breath of fresh air, gulping for it like you’re parched. You cough, chest heaving as you keep digging, the pinpricks of light melting into a hole the size of a golf ball, then a baseball, then a basketball, and you keep going, keep going, keep going–

Then you’re dragging your body out of the ground, your burial outfit covered with splinters of wood and smeared with dirt.

You crawl out of your grave, and you take glorious, grateful deep breaths. You roll over onto your back, staring up at the moon, dazed by the light because you’re alive, how are you alive, you don’t even remember how you got in the ground but–

Before you can think, before you can sort through your thoughts and remember anything that happened the last night of your life, you take another breath, and you smell something.

Something fucking mouthwatering.

You sit up in a flash, your body a blur in your speed as your head whips around to find the source of the scent. It’s more than mouthwatering; it’s captivating, hypnotizing, a siren’s song that you can’t resist. You don’t even want to resist, all you want is to find that scent and taste it, because it makes a hunger in your belly clench, a hunger so deep it aches in your very soul. It’s like a sudden inferno, and you’re immolating in it, and you need whatever that smell is to help you put out the flames.

Your eyes fall on the cemetery groundskeeper, and before you can even think, you’re off your ass and running.

You move so fast that the rest of the world starts to blur, but your mind is only set on the figure of the old man pulling weeds outside the mausoleum. You can still smell that sweet scent, and your thoughts aren’t even lucid; you’re just moving on instinct as you dart through the shadows, every step silent before you’re on him, not even giving him a chance to scream before your filth-covered nails rip into his throat.

Blood drips like rain, spurting across the front of the dress you were buried in.

You gasp in a breath, because the sticky blood releases the scent in a powerful burst, and you’re salivating at the thought of tasting it, of finally quenching this thirst, of curbing your ravenous appetite that has you absolutely feral. The groundskeeper’s life is soaking through your hands, his body falling limp as he goes to crash to the grass, but you catch him and hold him with supernaturally strong hands, claws digging into his flesh that’s burning hot compared to your undead body. Your mouth goes to his bleeding throat, a grotesque mangle of flesh, and your tongue laps at his blood.

The taste is like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

It’s metallic, the overpowering taste of iron spreading across your tongue, but all you can do is groan in relief as you finally swallow it down, the heat of the liquid burning your throat. It’s like a drug, like an immediate hit of the best concoction you could ever imagine, euphoria and energy and heat flowing through you all at once as you continue to drink from the dying man.

He gives his final gasps, eyes glazed over with panic and fear, and then he goes still in your arms.

You’re almost disappointed, because his blood is already starting to cool in the breeze of the early morning hours. You wish he could’ve held on for a little longer, at least until you could experience the sensation of his blood flowing through your veins, warming your undead heart. But you keep drinking, until his body runs dry.

You let out a helpless, animalistic whine; why are you still thirsty?

You drop to your hands and knees, licking up every drop of blood you can smell from his clothes, his skin, the blades of grass below. You’re desperate for it, hands shaking, pupils blown wide and body trembling like you’re already withdrawing; you need more–

You hear a condescending, mocking chuckle, and your head snaps up, and you’re sprinting again.

You’re still not thinking; all you can do is move, hoping for another victim to drain blood from until this gnawing thirst starts to dissipate, until you can finally breathe again without this burn in your throat, this knot in your belly.

But you don’t smell blood; you don’t hear a beating heart. All you see is the monster that turned you, a familiar, fanged smirk. You recognize his red eyes and harsh, black tattoos.

You snarl, baring your own fangs and launching yourself at him, nails poised to rip out his throat, now, because what did he do to you, he gave you this thirst, he needs to die–

He reaches up a hand, almost casually, and catches your throat in a bruising grip.

You gasp and growl and cry, sounding like a rabid animal as you flail your limbs, trying to scratch at him, kick at him, bite at him. But he just holds you there, an unimpressed eyebrow raised as he watches you fight his unyielding hold on you.

“Poor little girl,” he says, tilting his head to watch you yowl and snap at him. “Haven’t even come down from crawling out of your grave. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you, then.”

So, instead of killing you, he just tightens his hand around your neck, crushing it beneath his strong fingers.

You part your lips to gasp again, but you can’t even breathe past his hold, and so you just look up at him, eyes wide and unfocused as you slowly start to go limp.

He leans his face closer, dragging you forward with his hand until your noses are almost touching. His red eyes flash as he meets your dazed expression. “You,” he says, voice slow, treating you like you’re stupid, some animal, and maybe you are, because even now all you want to do is be free and attack him, “are what we call a feral fledgling, now. You’re just running on instinct, but you need to learn to behave. Because if you attack me again, or any other vampire lord, or if you do anything to reveal us to the humans, we won’t hesitate to kill you.”

You let out a whine, but past his hand around your neck, it’s nothing but a puff of air. He grins maliciously. “That’s right. So you’re going to have to learn to be a good little girl. You gonna learn?”

Like he said, you don’t really have a choice. So you nod, trying to rasp a “yes” past his chokehold on you.

He chuckles, and it sounds like a growl as he leans in again, his cool breath fanning over your cheeks. “Good girl,” he says, and then he drops his hold on you, and you collapse to the ground, gasping for air and coughing. He looks down at you with disdain. “Once you get yourself together,” he continues, his tone derisive, “you can come find my clan in Shibuya.”

And with that he turns his back on you and leaves you there, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When you arrive in Shibuya, it’s not exactly where you expect a centuries-old vampire to be living.

You almost expected a castle, something straight out of fantasy novels, instead of the upscale high rise apartment building that now stands in front of you. You wonder for a moment if you are, indeed, in the right place, but then the front door to the building opens and out comes a short, hunched figure hobbling towards you.

You blink down at the creature; with pale bluish-gray skin, one large eye in the middle of his face, and a distinct volcano on the top of his head, he surely didn’t look like the vampire lord who changed you.

“Come on,” the creature grumbles, waving you inside. “The sun’s about to rise.”

So you step inside the lobby of the apartment building, following him towards the elevator.

He hands you a set of keys, attached to a keychain with your first and last name on it. You wonder how he got that information, but then just shake the thought away, deciding you didn’t want to know what Sukuna has learned about you since your death.

“Your room is on the third floor,” the creature explains, “with the rest of the spawn. Lord Sukuna will come to gather you when he is ready.”

“Um,” you hedge, trying not to stare but ultimately failing. “You…you don’t look like…a normal vampire? Are you…special?”

He rolls his one large eye at you. “Nosferatu are cursed to appear this way,” he explains. And he leaves it at that, as the door to the elevator dings open. “You are to remain in your rooms until Lord Sukuna arrives.” Then he hobbles away, leaving you shell shocked and still full of questions with your set of keys in your hand.

You make your way to the third floor, glancing around the halls and at the doors you pass on your way. Most of the apartments on the floor seem uninhabited, until you reach the end of the hall and you see two dark-haired men in conversation. They both turn to look over when you appear and tentatively walk towards them.

One of them, the taller of the two, had long black hair cascading down his back, half tied up in a bun. His violet eyes carefully watch you as you approach, seemingly curious about your arrival. The other, with dark chestnut hair tied up in two spiky ponytails at the back of his head, keeps his face slightly averted, looking almost shy as you walk over.

“Hello,” greeted the taller of the two, his voice low and smooth, gentle, almost. “We weren’t aware we were gaining another member of the clan. My name’s Suguru.”

You introduce yourself, then glance over at the other man, now noticing the tattoo across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. He keeps his brown eyes down, almost respectfully, and murmurs, “Choso.”

Suguru is still watching you. “We were just discussing when our next hunt would be. Would you like to join? We can show you around.”

You hesitate. You can’t deny the gnawing hunger inside you, the thirst that still burns your throat, the desperate need to feed again. But the nosferatu told you to wait until Sukuna found you… You say, “I’m not sure I can. I’m supposed to be…seeing Sukuna before I leave at all.”

Both of them stiffen a little at the way you say his name, eyes flashing to examine you, to see the soft glow in your eyes that tell them you must be very, very new to still address him so familiarly. “Lord Sukuna,” Suguru corrects you quietly. “It would do you well to remember that.” Then he nods. “We’ll wait for you to be ready, then. We’ll take you to our regular haunts and show you the ropes. How’s that sound?”

You just nod, not sure if you really have a choice in the matter. You’re not yet sure what your hierarchy will be now, as a part of this vampire clan. And so you excuse yourself and continue walking past them, to an apartment at the end of the hall. You put your key into the lock and turn, and then you swing the door open to reveal your new home inside.

It’s the nicest place you’d ever lived.

It’s strangely modern, for someone who has lived for centuries to inhabit. There’s a floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, and every space is decorated with minimalist and modern taste. Everything is fully furnished, ready to be used, ready to be lived in for years and years, as part of your new, second life.

And so you step inside, and you make yourself at home, waiting for Sukuna – Lord Sukuna – to come find you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx previous chapter | next chapter

[jacktheeldergod2]

You find a weird folded paper in your wallet. It describes how 3 months from now a monster will come to your area and you have to deal with it. Below is the list of monsters,one of which you must tick off,lest all of them arrive. Your choices are the following:

Sinless Steve:a dazzling wrestler with long thick messy hair,blessed with the ability of no one realizing when he does a sin or breaks a law or even says something bad. He's also strong enough to walk through steel as if it was tinfoil and durable enough to get run over by a car and be pretty much unscathed,thus he has to turn his powers off to wrestle. Apart from that he is a normal human serial killer through and through. No details were given on why he kills people instead of just robbing a company and buying enough drugs to kill an elephant like a normal person would

An invisible dinosaur with human intelligence. While not specifying the type of dinosaur an image of a car with a stepped on,crushed front was provided so that's a way to gauge its size. The dinosaur was described as a callous,sadistic creature that is very racist towards humans and said its feathers were a mutated ochre color. No mentions of what this mutation is were present in the letter

A strigoi which means a mythical nosferatu looking ass vampiric undead. It is strong as hell and more aggressive than a hyena. In its previous life it was a renowned fisherman and it still uses a fishing rod haunted by his wife. He uses it to catch people. If you hold religious faith holding a religious symbol up will hurt him a little. You could torture some occult knowledge out of him maybe

Hisia:a decrepit looking smelly sludge amoeba that eats plant life. It's a slime monster basically. Sings a weird bellowing song that makes people tremble,those who get close enough having their organs rupturing from the sound. Smells like rotten food,so much so that flies constantly die trying to go towards it

Lebo Nigoryx:a 10 meter tall troll with 4 heads and 9 arms. their blood is acid,their mere breath poison and the touch of their scorched palms is a wildfire,setting aflame all they touch. Weakened by lead. Has a specific grudge on native americans. Or it prefers their taste. Afraid of hawks

Kevin Jameson Jones:a man from a parallel earth with multiple steampunk enhancements in his body. The machine implanted on his chest allows him to change into different mutated forms including an anglerfish form,a really tall hermaphrodite human form,a beastly canine form,a hyper fast feline form,a songbird form and a fire breathing pangolin form. This knock-off Ben ten does human experimentations to test new forms he could make. If you beat him he will willingly transplant his machines to you and then live to serve you as long as you allow him to add more forms. Has baggy eyes and messy black hair but his machines keep him from going pale or frail

Alertharax: an angel of another world that has come to "cleanse the unclean". It looks like a pangolin the size of a rhino,with platinum plates,golden claws and scaled grey skin. Only attacks at night and never appears under the sun's gaze. Seems to be able to mind control young teenagers and children to a minor degree. Speaks calmly but in a shrieky,gravelly voice

The truest warrior:a man that has a life extending item called the pugilist's polyhedron that lets him lengthen his life in purpose of training. Knows most martial arts armed or unarmed. Is supernaturally physically abled due to training for more than 14000 years. Cannibalizes the random people he chooses to fight and always beats. Looks 40 years old,has scars older than your family name. Has a satchel with an unknown amount of weapons that all magically fit there

Ogallon the river scourge:a maroon colored dragon as tall as a rhino with a torso as long as a bus and 12 legs. Swims around in sewers,rivers,lakes and other places of water. Eats humans just to bring misery,hates loudness. His tail has a scorpion stinger with a poison that turns those hit into undead wraiths. He has never lost a battle and never had a scar given to him by anyone who wasn't themselves a dragon. Hoards metals of any kind

@1969chevycamaro @whereserpentswalk @everythingismadeofchaos @techiekittie @trashsouppossum @ononpetitecroissant @parsley-and-lesbianism @polkadotsunshine @strange-and-stupid @doyoudreamofwater @dackychansworldofhoshino @dh-ng @decoysender @foxundermoon @frozen-antifreeze @gloriousvermin @kinkshame-puncher-666 @kirkland-brand-witch @leavesswaytoday @bisexual-bat @bellaphomet3 @mmmmmmky @mun-urufu @moonsfavoritedaughter

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Seven: Communing with Nature

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Six - Chapter Eight ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: another omen looms on the horizon, but James is always there to help.

Word Count: 5.5k

“Hello?” your call out into the haze made no sound, dying out just as it fell past your lips. The space around you seemed to suck it up like a black sheet in the midday sun, unwilling to allow you to be heard. “Hello?” you tried again, but to no avail. 

There was little surrounding you, all barren save for a gray fog, thick and heavy as wool. You reached for your wand, though it was not in your pocket where you usually kept it. You tried your other pocket, but it was absent from there as well. A pool of terrible dread bubbled in your stomach, so full it felt alive. It moved within you, an entity with its own desperations, independent from your own. You recalled Professor Quattlebaum’s words spoken on the first day of third year, “Many believe Divination originates in the head or heart, when truly, it lives in the stomach.”

You attempted to peer through the fog, but your vision was unable. However, creeping in the distance, some of this haze drifted, shifting in an unfelt breeze. It revealed the shadow of a human figure, standing still within the desolate land. You tried to gauge their distance, though the task seemed impossible. It was as if they were both very close, yet very far, the way one looked in a mirror. 

In vain you called out once more, “Hello!” Again, there was no noise. 

You took a slow step towards them, deliberate and calculating. You found solid ground beneath you and began to run as fast as you could, dashing towards the figure. Though, no matter how far you pressed, the figure never seemed to draw nearer. Their steps of retreat were of the same speed and length as your own, a continual dance between you. 

You came to a halt, breath faltering. The fog was cold against your skin, sticky and penetrating, yet entirely odorless. With every inhale it filled your lungs with something syrupy and choking, a lingering bitterness down your throat. With a particularly deep inhale you heard a faint noise. In a new rush of adrenaline you stood up straight, cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting. This time, the sound came roaring from your lips like the ring of a trumpet, blazing through the swirling fog. 

The figure appeared to turn as if to watch you. You felt their gaze, consuming yet not entirely unfamiliar. Your hands dropped at your sides as you took another step, then another, and a dozen more. Though, the same as before, you could not reach them. Your sight of the figure grew more and more vague, until eventually they faded from view entirely, leaving you alone in the fog. 

“No!” you called, bounding forward. With another few steps, your feet fell against an uneven surface. Looking down, you saw that you now stood a top pebbles, irregular and varying. Your gaze drifted out to where a shore lay a few meters ahead, water lapping lazily at the rocks. 

The fear returned, mounting, pounding against your ribs. You shuddered, though began to near the bank. Moving with the ebb and floating on its side was a red and purple fish. It’s dead, glassy eyes watched you from below, white and blind. You stumbled back, the call of a bird striking like lightning overhead. Your hands flew up to cover your ears to block the piercing cry. The bird called again, deafening even as it echoed. It sounded closer this time, its flight growing lower. 

You spun, head craned upwards as you searched the sky, but the fog overpowered all. A flash of black streaked the air, swooping around and past your eyes. You followed it, catching a glimpse as it dived towards the water, taking the fish in its talons before veering up and out of sight. The water rippled where it had been disturbed, soon fading out into the small waves. 

You awoke with a sudden jerk in your bed, a stream of light shining through a small gap in the curtains. For a moment, you forgot what day it was, still feeling the brush of the fog against your skin. You took a deep breath, attempting to go over the events of the previous evening: smoking in the Mirror Passage with Sirius, the others joining, laughing in the Common Room, leaving in a hurry, and having to explain it to Marlene and Dorcas. 

Your mind clung to the memories briefly, holding to them until the call of the bird no longer rang in your ears. Eventually, you stuck your hand through the curtains of your four-poster and felt around on the table for your watch. You checked the time, ten past eleven, far too late for the hour you went to bed. You had slept entirely through breakfast and would have to wait about an hour for lunch. You rubbed your face, ridding your eyes of their waking blur. 

You pushed back your curtains and got out of bed, finding Lily at her desk, hunched over her books. She looked up, giving you a small smile. 

“Morning, sleepy head,” she chuckled, sitting back in her chair. 

“Morning,” you said, trudging to the lavatory to splash some water into your face. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

“C’mon Bolt, keep it clean,” James muttered, his hands weaved in his hair as he leaned closer to the radio on the table. His leg was bouncing, eyes scrunched beneath his glasses.

Zimmerbolt comes in hot around the left side– Babbage hits the bludger towards him– Ah! O’Reilly blocks it!

“Son of a–” James nearly stands, plopping back down in his seat with a huff. Beside him, Peter was squished between him and Sirius, Dorcas in a chair across from them. A rather large group had formed, most nervously listening as the announcer continued. Sirius was the only one who looked rather unaffected, only paying half attention. 

Zimmerbolt is moving in towards the goal, a pass from Appleton, Yordy tries to check but the quaffle remains in Zimmerbolt’s possession— Goal from Zimmerbolt!

James and Peter stood to cheer along with a handful of other students. From the sofa by the fire, you looked up from your schoolwork to witness the comotion. James was grinning at Dorcas, throwing himself back down in his seat. Remus was watching from the other side of the sofa, chuckling at James’s enthusiasm. 

“Can’t beat The Bolt, Meadowes!”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Tutshill is gonna kill you this season, just watch.”

“Not when you don’t have The Bolt!” James laughed.

The snitch is spotted by Goodwyn of the Wimborne Wasps, she goes in past Appleton– Babbage and Crundlestuck make for a dopplebeater! 

James looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

Crundlestuck knocks out Babbage by mistake, he’s nearly off his broom– he recovers! Strudwick of the Tunshill Tornadoes is hot on Goodwyn’s tail, they’re neck and neck– A bludger’s heading for Goodwyn, O’Reilly blocks! Their up past the goal, Goodwyn moves in— She’s got the snitch! 

From their huddle in the corner, an eruption of cheers ensued, overpowering the groans of disappointment from the Tutshill fans. After the majority of celebratory hollers died down, you could hear James playfully taunting Dorcas.

“That's how it’s done!”

The Wimborne Wasps win with 230 points, the Tunshill Tornadoes losing with 90! Next, Wimborne advances and plays the Thundelarra Thunderers for a spot at the Quidditch World Cup! Tunshill plays Puddlemere United on the eighteenth in a match for the League Cup–

Someone switched off the radio, the group dispersing in a mix of joy and heartache. You continued with your work as James, Peter, and Sirius came over to sit by you and Lily near the fire. Dorcas lazily followed, shoulders slumped. She grumbled something about “bloody Zimmerbolt” as she picked up the Daily Prophet lying across the arm of the sofa, hiding her face as she unfolded it. Staring you on the front page was the hardened face of Harold Minchum, the Minister of Magic, speaking with his hands gripping the sides of his podium. 

Your Transfiguration book was propped up on your legs in front of you, but all you could think of was your Divination essay on your desk in your room, and what you had woken up to this morning. It had forced you to confront the fact that you desperately needed to find a way to forget about your project, something which would hopefully come about when you handed it in Monday afternoon. As you brushed your teeth a few hours earlier, you decided that the dream was not prophetic, but rather an amalgamation of stress and rumination. Nothing like this had ever happened before, so you had little reason to take any of it seriously. Right?

Standing in front of the hearth, Sirius nodded towards Dorcas’s paper. “Anything new with Min-scum?”

Lily sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t see why you hate him so much, Sirius. He’s been going after them as hard as he can–”

“Yeah, and look at all the good it’s doing. A dozen more muggles dead and two Ministry workers missing. All the dementors in the world can’t stop the ones that aren’t actually in Azkaban.”

Dorcas had lowered the paper, folding it closed on her lap. You all fell silent for a beat, the delicate nature of the situation clearly apparent. Even James did not speak, eyes downcast. 

Finally, Lily spoke, gentle as ever, “I know, but it’ll be alright. I’m sure they’re doing a lot that they can’t tell us about.” No one really believed it, especially not Sirius, but it eased him enough for the time being. He glanced sideways into the fire, still grumpy but not dangerously so. Dorcas stuck the paper under her arm and stood, wandering around the sofa and up the stairs to the dormitories. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

The sun was a quarter way to the treetops, reflecting off the half-melted snow and sending soft rays into the windows of Gryffindor Tower. The Marauders had gone off somewhere after lunch and had yet to return, perhaps Hogsmeade, though you couldn’t be sure. You had holed yourself up in your room, able to get quite a bit of work done before you couldn’t bear it any longer. Your gaze drifted to your wristwatch, the charmed face revealing the image of a blue, unclouded sky beneath the hands. Your thoughts moved to your dream, the fog, the fish, the call of the bird . You forced yourself back into the present, Sirius’s suggestion to go fishing becoming more and more appealing as time went on. Perhaps with a sprig of rosemary and a nice side of—

You pushed your papers away from you, glancing out of the window before you went to slip on your shoes and grab your coat and scarf. When you walked down to the Common Room, you did not check to see if any of your friends were present before you pushed open the portrait hole. You weren’t quite sure where you even planned on heading, mindless wandering until you left the castle through the Entrance Hall, making way to the lake. 

While the main path was cleared of snow, much still remained on the ground. You trudged forward, slinking across the lawn past the quidditch pitch. A team was practicing, though you didn’t look long enough to make out which house they belonged to. Far behind you, the Forbidden Forest bristled, frost clinging to the wiry branches.

You soon stood in front of the lake, eyeing its dark waters as a worthy adversary, lapping against the uneven shoreline. Somewhere below, the giant squid was swimming, searching for its prey. You inched up to the bank, pacing back and forth alongside it, your hands swinging at your sides. At the end of the year when you passed over it in your boat for the final time, you would make it a point to peer into its expanse, even if you were just met with the image of your own, wistful face. 

You were only alone beside the water for ten minutes when you heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow behind you. You turned, seeing James coming towards you, his spirited grin visible even from far away. He ran up as your eyes met, tufts of snow kicked up behind his feet. 

“What’re you doing here?” you called as he slid up beside you. He was wearing his usual brown jacket, loved so much that the sleeves were beginning to shred. When he went back home this summer, Mrs. Potter would most definitely have a fit over the fact that he continued to walk around in such an unkempt state. The thought made you smile, even if just for a moment. 

“I saw you walking down here when I was done with practice,” he answered, still smiling. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”

You shrugged, turning back to gaze across the lake, the blurred reflection of the mountains dancing across the ripples. “I don’t know. Needed a break, I guess,” you paused, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to be very fun right now.”

“Don’t be,” his tone was full of kindness, something familiar and sweet. “I’m used to moods.”

“I can imagine,” you said, your lips tilted up just a fraction before falling again.

James bumped his shoulder against yours, eyes darting between the water and yourself. “Do you want me to ask what’s wrong, or should I just shut up and look pretty?

He made you smile again, bigger this time. Though, like before, it didn’t last long. You studied the snow at your feet, wishing it were spring.

“It’s Divination,” you answered, already tired of hearing yourself say it. “The same old shite. Stuff just keeps happening. I don’t think you’d understand.” You finally turned to him, met with a small, weak smile, so different than what it had been a minute prior. 

“I don’t know much about Divination, but I don’t think it’s a bunch of hogwash. I didn’t really think that before, but I definitely can’t after you were right about the storm.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose at his choice in vocabulary. “Hogwash?” 

“Like it?” he asked, eyes lit up. “I’m thinking of adding it into my regular rotation. Spice things up a little.”

“I think you should,” you chuckled. 

His expression had begun to shift to something sad, an ellipses to the start of his next sentence. The lightness that usually followed him wherever he went was dimming the longer he looked at you, the more he took in your sullen state. 

“What else happened?” he asked, waiting patiently for you to speak. 

“A single crow, as stupid as that sounds.” You couldn’t help but laugh at your own foolish worries, no matter how strongly felt they may be. “I was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and it just came right up to the railing, staring at me,” every word came out breathy, laced with the same dreary assumption. You were already too exposed for your own liking, but forever willing to bare more for James. 

He shifted on his feet, not taking his eyes from you. You were unable to tell if he was growing uncomfortable with the conversation, or if he just didn't have the slightest idea what to do or say. 

“Does it have to be bad?” he paused, voice sounding pained by his own question. “Could a crow ever be good?” 

You cleared your throat, buying time before you had to answer. “One is usually a sign of bad luck. They normally stick to a murder, so one isn’t exactly a common sight to begin with. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of one being good, or even neutral. It's the fish all over again.” 

“Maybe it’ll be like Lily said, something small,” there was a forced ease to the way he put things, and you clung to it desperately before letting it go, remembering your other omen. 

“I also had a dream last night,” you murmured, low enough you weren’t sure if he could hear. However, it seemed as though he had from his expression of deep concern. He didn’t say a word, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. At any other time, you would have been swept away by its elegance. 

Slowly, you began relaying the dream to him, clinging to a few minor details that didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. You shut your eyes as you spoke, the shadowy figure like a stain on the back of your eyelids. You could see it all clear as day; the figure, the fish, the black streak of the bird. When you finished, you opened your eyes and let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I feel like I’m going mad.”

James ran a hand through his curls, moving it to the back of his neck. As you watched his brows pinch together, his jaw tightening and releasing, you wondered why you even told him. He had his own problems, and now he was pained by another. His fingers rubbed his spine, his head still ducked forward.

“I wish–” he began, dropping his hand at his side, “I just wish I had something for you. I wish I were Lily right now, so that I could help. Godric , I want to help you.” He said your name, half broken on his lips. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

You felt your throat grow tight, a swirling mix of contradicting emotions colliding in a frenzy which ultimately led to an all-encompassing melancholy. Within the concoction was the same looming dread as this morning, the building anxiety that came with the increased weight you put into your various omens. Then was the unmistakable, blooming affection that came when he looked at you. It was the same way he would sometimes look at Remus or Sirius, the kind of expression which was painful to witness. He had never looked at you like that before, so completely full of heartache and without a way to make things better. A weaker part of you relished in the proof it gave you, proof that he cared for you more deeply than you previously believed. A larger, more logical part, was ridden with guilt over the burden you had placed upon him. He took on as many on as he could, always and without question, and you had willingly added to it. His rounded eyes were soft, impossibly so, though the beauty in his gaze was crushingly disappointing. He was showing you the same care that he had for Sirius last weekend, but it still could never fully satiate. There was guilt over that, as well: your own greed. 

Then, there was the final part, threaded between all else. He did not care for you the way you so desperately wanted him to. That was the worst of it all.  

James sighed, repeating the motion of his hand running through his hair. His curls were mused, as lovely as a painting. “And, you’re not mad. Don’t think for a single bloody second that you are, all right?”

You nodded, swallowing down as much of your trembling voice as you could. “Thank you, James.”

“Don’t say thank you. You never have to say thank you to me.” He took another breath, drawn out like the wind. 

All you could do was nod again, lacking the vocabulary to properly tell him everything you wished to say, all without revealing too much. 

He reached out his hand, taking a minute step to the side. “C’mon, let's get outta here.” You stared back at him, unable to move. “Don’t leave me hanging, love.”

You finally took his hand, ungloved and warm despite the temperature. He smiled at you with his characteristically bright grin as you began walking back towards the castle. You tried not to think about the nickname. 

“Your hands are cold,” he laughed, bringing your hand up and running his thumb along the back. After, he let it go, much too soon. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as you both passed by the pitch, now void of players. 

“Have a request?” 

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. His smile only grew wider, as blinding as the snow. 

“Excellent.” 

He led you both alongside the boathouse, crossing the main path to the castle. Just as you thought he was heading towards Hagrid’s Hut, he pulled you to the left down the hill, skirting closer to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. You grew nervous, hoping he wasn’t planning on taking you where you thought he was. 

“Where in the world are you taking me?” you asked. 

After briefly glancing over his shoulder, he turned and smiled at you, infectious enough to make you forget your fears for a second. “Would you rather have it be a surprise, or shall I tell you now?”

“Shall? You’re really stepping it up lately.”

“I try,” he said before remembering his previous question, “So, take your pick.”

“Surprise, I guess,” you answered warily. 

“Good choice.” 

Without warning, he grabbed your hand again and pulled you into the forest, forcing you to jog a ways inside before he slowed. The brush was not thick, but the trees were large and looming, their trunks massive. The light of the sun was obscured, even if most of the trees were bare. You gripped James’s hand tighter, tugging him to a stop. 

He gave you a reassuring look, pulling out his wand. “Don’t worry, this part of the forest is safe during the day.” 

Your eyes darted around the woods, which appeared largely unthreatening, though slightly imposing. You reluctantly allowed him to resume the journey, taking careful steps over the ancient, knotty roots. “I know you’re good at dueling, but I’m not sure I trust you against whatever lives here .”

He squeezed your hand, reminding you that they were still clasped together. A chill ran up your arm, though you passed it off with a feigned shiver from the cold. 

“That hurt,” he laughed. “But I’ll forgive you.”

After a few minutes, James spotted something in the distance, pulling you towards it with renewed spirit. Nestled within the woods was a small, round pond, shallow along the shore. It was frozen over, though the ice was rather translucent and thin, melting as the temperature warmed. James dropped your hand when he neared it, turning around to face you. 

“A pond?” you said, not intending to sound so disappointed. 

James scoffed, motioning towards the water.  ��Are you not sufficiently surprised?”

“No, no, I am,” you laughed, wandering closer to him by the edge, kicking up a rock beneath your feet. James moved down the other side, poking the ice with the toe of his boot. 

“Do you think this ice is thick enough to walk on?” he asked.

You peered at it, quite sure that it was not. “Why don’t you try it out and we’ll see?”

“Very funny,” he said dryly, pointing his wand towards the pond. “Glacius Crassamento!”

Moving from the center of the pond, the ice gradually grew thicker, crackling as its transparency faded into a smoky opacity. You watched the pond in amazement before turning towards James with a scowl. He stood up straight and rather proud, wand slowly lowering as he turned to you. 

“Did you bring me all the way here just to show me that?” 

“Maybe,” he said, smiling mischievously. 

Your eyes danced over the newly thickened ice once more, trying to place the spell in your memory, though coming up empty. “Where did you learn that?”

“Developed it for Arithmancy last term.” He tested the ice with his foot again, deeming it thick enough to tread. He stepped onto it, taking another measly step forward so he didn’t slip. The way he moved reminded you of a newly born fawn, careful on shaky legs. His efforts in stability were somewhat in vain, as he nearly took a tumble, saving himself at the last moment. “Gonna work on making it less slippery, next.”

“James,” you said, laughing a bit as he turned around and glided a bit across, “was it hard to walk the first time you transformed?”

He shook his head, moving back towards land. “No. It feels the same as walking on two legs, for the most part.” You hummed, poking another pebble with your shoe. “Have any other stag-related questions?”

You smiled a bit at the invitation, nodding. “I do, actually. I never really asked you about it, now that I think of it.”

“Yeah, you’re always so polite.”

“Fuck off,” you laughed again, pausing to think. “All right, I have one. Have you ever eaten, you know, deer food when you’re transformed?”

“Not that I can recall,”  he answered, amused by your choice in questions. He hopped back onto the bank, this time with ample grace. 

You continued to meander around the pond, yours and James’s footsteps adding to the soft chorus of wind through the branches. 

“Oh, I have another!” you announced. “Do you think if you smelled Amortentia it would smell like acorns and berries or whatever else stags like?”

James’s eyes drifted away from yours as he thought. “I have no idea. I’m not even sure it would work on an animal to begin with.”

“But you’re not really an animal, right?” 

James moved towards you, slowly and without much haste. “Maybe we should test it.”

“That ones such a pain in the arse to brew, though. Maybe we could convince Sirius to do it for us, say it’s for a prank or something.”

“We’d have to trick him into it,” he said, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. “He has no appreciation for science.”

You echoed his laughter, kneeling down by the pond to peer into the ice. It was far too thick to see through now, though still beautiful in its own way. James continued to walk closer, stopping to pick up a stone from the ground and roll it in his palm. 

“It’s a kind thing that you all do,” you said softly, unsure if the topic was safe to bring up. 

James tossed the stone away from him, staring at where it landed somewhere on the forest floor. “He’d do it for any one of us.”

You nodded, thinking about the time only a few years ago when you barely knew them, when they had spent nearly a year trying to become animagi without anyone suspecting a thing. Then, you had believed you knew him well enough. But, when he and Lily began dating, you discovered you hadn’t known him at all, privy only to the footnotes: he was confident, perhaps overly so, he got good marks, he caused too much trouble, he was so charming it pissed you off. You were entirely unaware of how fiercely he believed in his friends, or how open his arms would be when you stepped further into his life. 

“I wish I was friends with you then,” you said, watching as he began to smile down at you. “I probably would’ve gotten in on it with you guys. ” 

“There’s no way we would’ve told a girl ,” he teased, coming to stand only a few feet away. 

You stood up, staring at the tip of his nose which had grown rosy in the cold. “No exceptions for me?”

“When I was thirteen? No. Now? Most definitely.”

He gave you that look again, although this time it was fonder, simple in its meaning. Either way, it was blinding, forcing you to tear your gaze away towards something, anything else. You stared forward towards the other side of the pond and into the tree line. You want to weep, taken up by the threat of future nostalgia. When you left Hogwarts, James would take the world in his palm and shape it into whatever he liked, no matter what was going on in it. You, however, would linger in the space between his past and present, left to sort out your own life. The thought was more terrifying than any of your omens. 

“I wish it could always be like this,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, your tears burning hot behind your eyes. You weren’t entirely sure if you meant life at Hogwarts in general or just this moment. Maybe it was a bit of both. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone low and unreadable. 

You shrugged weakly, thinking about all the little boats over the lake, their sparkling lanterns, the sound of the water as they sailed. “I don’t know, all of us together like this.” 

“It won’t be different. You and Lily will get a flat, start working, doing whatever you do out there. I’ll pass my Auror’s exam, maybe fart around for a while, same as usual,” his voice picked up near the end, an attempt at playfulness.

“It’s not gonna be the same, though. You know that.” Your eyes grew glassy, and you tried to blink it away, though it only made it worse. 

“Why not? We’ll make it the same,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. 

“I never realized how weird it’s going to be this summer until now. Every time I go home, I know I’m coming back. Now, though,” you trailed off, taking a long, shuddering breath. 

He turned away, following your line of sight into the trees. “I mean it when I say it’ll be the same. Maybe not exactly the same, but it’ll still be good. We’ll all still be together.” You met each other's eyes, James frowning when he caught sight of your tears. “I’ll come and visit you every chance I get, if you want. I don’t know what I’ll be doing, maybe I’ll crash with Sirius for a while in his flat. Although, I’m pretty sure it’s only one room. Apparently London is expensive,” he chuckled a bit, pausing to gauge your reaction.

A tear finally slipped from your eye, but you wiped it away quickly, scrubbing the sleeves of your jacket across your cheek. For the second time, there wasn’t anything you could possibly say to safely tell him how you felt, or how much you adored him. 

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile. It was all you could allow.

“What did I tell you?” You mirrored his smile, nearly giddy. “I mean it, you’re going to see so much of me, so much of everyone, that you’re going to wish we never had this conversation. You’ve opened up the floodgates.”

James placed a hand upon your shoulder, fingers flexing for a moment, rocking you back before he brought you towards his chest. You let him wrap his arms around you, cocooning you fully against the chill of the air. You held him tighter than you should, allowing yourself to fall into the moment without your usual shields, defenses lowered in a way they hadn’t been in years. After a moment of basking in the way your head fit into the curve of his neck, the wind was nearly knocked out of your lungs. The feeling of it all ran down your arms and into your fingers like an electric pulse. When the shock had worn off, the ache returned, more acute than ever before. Your greatest nightmare had been realized. You were in love with him. 

He pulled away, dropping his arms in an unintended act of mercy. He didn’t speak for a moment, perhaps seeing the far off look in your eyes. Slowly, the world came back to you, and you gazed across his face as if seeing him for the first time. 

James broke the silence first, “You know, sometimes I forget I didn’t really know you until a few years ago.” 

You shrugged. “You did know me, we just weren’t close.”

He stared at you again, really looking at you the way not many people could. “I’m happy Lily and I dated, even if it all went to shit,” he chuckled. “Who else would I get to predict the weather for me?”

You laughed, half real and half a way to soothe your open, festering wound. It must have been convincing by the way James was looking at you. 

“C’mon,” he said, motioning for you to follow him. “You’re laughing now, which means I’ve done my job. It’s getting late, anyway. Can’t miss dinner.”

You nodded, beginning to walk back the way you came. Even the forest seemed like it was born again, drab against the glow of James beside you. 

“I feel like all you do lately is comfort me,” you said, hoping your guilt would come through without you having to fully say it. 

“If I didn’t, what kind of friend would that make me? A pretty shite one, I’d say.”

There it was again. Friend.

Chapter Eight

[knightmareaceblue]

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Index

AO3

BE FOREWARNED! There are depictions of injuries in some of Purple and Gold's sections - nothing too bad, I think, but still approach with caution after the second picture. And, more importantly: Body Horror and depictions of torture. Please tread carefully during Yellow's section. I don't have a gauge for how bad it might be, but… yeah. Just in case.

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Warm ocean winds whipped around King as he emerged from the woodlands, carrying the heavy wetness of rain clouds in the distance. Hours of hiking non-stop had left King’s legs shaking like gelatin, not helped at all by the long detour he’d had to take to avoid being followed. Whoever his pursuers may have been – be it bounty hunters from the City or just a normal family commencing an illegal camp-out – there were more reasons than stars in the sky for King to avoid leading them to the Chosen One.

But this place… an inlet near the ocean, with a broken down building high above the cliff side. Deep within the heart of the Avery Woods. It seemed like a good match to the kids’ description of the Chosen One’s hiding place. King only paused long enough to catch his breath before pushing himself forward again. No more delays – he’d already wasted enough time.

No matter how hard his gut clenched at the thought of meeting the Chosen One.

Every stick living in the city knew the stories by heart – the Burner of Bandwidith, a deadly terrorist who burned entire webpages to ashes alongside their equally maniacal partner. The flood of immigrants had come with horror story after horror story, spreading fear across Stick City like a plague. Even years later, King still remembered watching the rare records of the two on the news and clutching his child tight to his chest. That terror remained with him even now, leaving his stomach in knots.

It was only the thought of Gold and Purple being safe at home that gave King any comfort against the paralyzing dread. With none of Second’s friends being willing to leave their side to introduce King, there was no guarantee this encounter wouldn’t end with him being reduced to cinders, and he wasn’t about to insist they drag themselves away. No matter how heartbreaking it had been to watch Purple beg to come along, King couldn’t let them endanger themselves just for him. If something happened to them…

…Nothing would happen to them. He’d make sure of it.

As he entered the doorway through a crooked, broken door, King noted a hole in the wall covered with plywood. Poorly. The planks were placed haphazardly, with plenty of holes to allow for animals or the elements to infiltrate the building with minimal resistance. The rest of the room was amongst the plainest constructions King had ever seen, with bare concrete walls and a singular computer desk pushed against the south wall. A solid coating of dust chipped at King’s hopes that he’d find the Chosen One here, but then he spotted a concrete staircase out of the corner of his eye, tucked away in the corner of the room.

The depths it led to were shrouded in darkness, but Purple had made sure King was prepared for that and had insisted on including a flashlight, taken from their own bag. The battery was weak, its light frail, but it provided enough illumination for King to make his way down, one step at a time.

Five meters. Ten meters. Fifteen meters. Each milestone was marked with thick white lettering, making King wonder what this place had been before it had become a den of terrorists. His every step down was accompanied by a loud, thundering echo, and a strange coolness as the heat of midday failed to penetrate. Further down. Twenty meters. Twenty five. The rooms along the way down were lifeless, machine parts littering the ground and tables. The ominous shapes of spider-like viruses cast large shadows when King shone his light inside the rooms, prompting him to move along quicker with a racing heart and an odd sense of thankfulness that the kids were safe at home.

Thirty meters.

King paused at the door on this level, noting that a soft red light shone through the cracks. The dead silence was broken by the low buzzing of active machinery, and as King approached, his ears perked as he also picked up a steady series of beep, beep, beeping. It was a sound he’d only heard on the television; calm and steady to match the beating of a heart.

Why in the name of Berners-Lee was he hearing a heart monitor? Was the Chosen One watching some medical drama?

“Hello?” King called in warning, gingerly taking hold of the knob and twisting. It was… unlocked, and the revelation that he was about to actually come face to face with the Chosen One themselves caused King’s fingers to tremble. Still, he pushed onward, a rainbow of children’s fear and grief steeling his spine.

The door swung open, and King’s eyes widened at the terrorist before him. It wasn’t the Chosen One.

Instead it was the Dark Lord himself, lying still as death upon a rickety old bed, that greeted him. Machines surrounded him; one was hooked to his arm, feeding the unconscious Dark Lord a liquid diet, another attached to his legs to gently compress and keep his blood flowing, while another still read and reported the continued beating of his heart – the machine King had heard just seconds prior. Only his breathing was unregulated, though King noted an unused oxygen machine pushed off to the side.

Some time ago, the Dark Lord had mysteriously vanished. Nobody knew the truth of his disappearance – just that he no longer joined his companion in terrorizing innocent sticks. Some rumours indicated his death in a series of mysterious explosions a few years back. Others claimed the Chosen One killed their own partner in order to send a message. Rocket Corporation’s official statement on the matter was that the Dark Lord was missing in action, and to report any potential sightings, but that they were shifting their attention to the more publicly known Chosen One.

Looking at him now, though, it was clear why he had suddenly vanished. As King slowly approached the fallen tyrant, he could see countless scars covering the vibrant red stick’s body. Some were from incision wounds and bludgeoning, but the most prominent scars were burn scars.

Electrical burns, a tiny part of King’s piped up as he inspected the patterns closer, and the memory of Second’s electric tornado came to mind. For now, King pushed it to the back of his mind.

King instead drew cautiously close to the unconscious stick and held his shaking hand over his face. After a few seconds of no reaction, King then began to prod at his face with gentle little taps. No response. A coma, perhaps? How long had he been like this…?

Fwish.

King’s heart leapt into his throat as a sudden new source of light cast a long, dark shadow over King. He spun around swiftly to find the dark silhouette of the Chosen One themselves standing at the door, both hands held at chest height with flames burning from each palm. King took two steps back, and the Chosen One echoed his gesture by taking two steps forward.

“You have five seconds,” They spoke, voice soft and smooth but still echoing through the empty room, “To explain why you’re here before I reduce you to ash.”

For a precious second King’s breath caught in his throat, and it was only when the Chosen One took another step forward that his brain kicked into gear, and he blurted out, “I’m a friend of the Second Coming!”

The Chosen One stopped, pausing for long enough that King could feel sweat beading on his forehead, before flicking their hands and dissipating the flames, allowing darkness to swallow the room once more. “Congratulations,” Their tone didn’t change even once, “You have upped to time to five minutes. Now. Explain yourself.”

Ah. So there really was some connection between them. King didn’t dare waste anymore time as he swiftly hopped into his explanation. “There was an… incident,” King began bluntly, unsure how else to describe the disaster. The Chosen One’s gaze narrowed in a bit, like a predator eyeing up its prey. King did his bet to ignore the shiver those eyes sent down his spine and continued, “Second lost control of their powers, and got hurt as a result-”

“So?” Asked the Chosen One, and the sheer, uncaring nonchalance in his voice took King aback, “What do you expect me to do about it? They’re the one with the healing powers.”

“That’s just it,” King shook his head, “They can’t use them. Their healing powers aren’t working, and we don’t know why. The kids figured you would know something about that.”

For the first time since he first laid eyes on them, the Chosen One’s expression shifted. Their brow furrowed and their jaw clenched, though they looked more puzzled than outright concerned. After a long pause, they spoke again, “Tell me precisely what happened.”

“Well, Second was demonstrating their powers at the others’ insistence,” King described, noting something like irritation cross the other stick’s face, “And circumstance led them to getting overwhelmed and panicking,” Somehow, King doubted the Chosen One much cared about the reasons for their panic. As he spent time in their presence, the bone-chilling terror was gradually beginning to fade, and King quickly found himself becoming more and more annoyed with their attitude towards their own Second Coming. “This resulted in them creating a gigantic tornado of electrical and telekinetic energy. The others managed to calm Second down, after which they used the energy to break space-time and promptly exploded. They were unconscious for a little while, and then-”

A hand suddenly held up halted King’s recollection, “I’m sorry, what was that last part?”

King cocked his head in confusion, but elaborated anyways, “After the explosion, they were unconscious on the ground. Didn’t look like they’d hurt their head, so I’d figured-”

“Not that.” They interrupted sternly. “Something about ‘breaking space-time’?”

Oh. Asking about that made a little more sense. “During the fiasco, Second managed to somehow pull two people from the past into the present. The ‘how’ isn’t precisely clear,” King didn’t think himself stupid by any means, but Second’s ‘like a keyframe’ answer felt more like they were trying relate the power to something they knew than an actual explanation. It frustrated his inner scientist, but King also recognized that they weren’t in much of a condition for further prodding, nor did he really have much of a right to do said prodding, “But it happened either during or just before the explosion.”

Chosen One stared at him for a long, long moment, before finally stating with flat skepticism, “That is impossible.”

King couldn’t quite stop himself from snorting. “Tell that to the past versions of myself and my kid back at home.” Honestly, the events of yesterday still had something of a surreal twinge to them. After hours away from home, a part of him was wondering if he hadn’t just dreamed it all up.

But of course he hadn’t. The bruises still aching on his forearms were proof enough of that. At least his hot-headed past self was good for something beyond terrorizing children.

“No, that is literally impossible. The energy requirements alone-” The Chosen One cut themselves off, “Then again, the Second Coming’s power is considerably stronger than my own, or his…” The presence of the Dark Lord was tangibly heavily against King’s back, even if he couldn’t see him. “But surely even they wouldn’t have the strength to- then again, their powers before could… and then they were injured…” All of a sudden, the Chosen One’s eyes went wide and frightened, “Tell me. Did they develop a fever?”

How had King forgotten to mention that? “Yes, it seemed to have broken out overnight.”

That had been all the Chosen One needed to hear. “We need to leave. Now.” Their hand, hot from the fire that ran through their veins, gripped King’s wrist like a vice. A hiss escaped his lips as the heat licked at his flesh; not quite enough to leave a mark, but enough to redden his skin with painful heat. As he was dragged away, King managed to spare one last look at the body lying upon the bed behind him.

Still as stone, the Dark Lord continued to slumber. A million questions rose to King’s mind as he contemplated just what that meant, but he only had a second to spare before the Chosen One had successfully dragged him away from the room.

Bonding up the steps quite a bit faster than he was comfortable with, King tried not to trip over his own two feet as he asked, “Would you mind explaining what’s going on here?”

Chosen One, attention directed ahead of them, scoffed under their breath as they mused, “How do I explain this…?” After a pregnant pause, they continued, “Breaking space-time is to break reality itself. That requires power. A whole LOT of power.”

King nodded. Okay, that made sense.

“The Second Coming’s abilities are incredible, especially compared to myself. But even they have limits. Bringing other sticks to the future must have drained every drop of energy they had in their body. When my… when the Dark Lord and I stretched our powers too thin, we’d find ourselves inflicted with incredible fatigue. Bad enough to leave us bedridden for entire days at a time.”

“So that’s what’s wrong with them?” Even as he made the suggestion, doubt crept into King’s words. If it was simple exhaustion, then why would the Chosen One seem so unnerved?

As if reading King’s mind, the Chosen One continued. “Yes, but the true trouble comes from their injuries. Subconsciously their body is trying to heal their wounds, but because they’d drained every last drop of energy from it, the healing fails. So their powers try again. And again. Until they’re healed, they can’t stop. And because of that, not only can they not replenish their energy, but the continued strain is putting incredible stress on their body. Hence the fever.”

Those words made King’s blood run cold. They brought to mind memories of machines he’d worked on in the past, whose parts had been worn down by overuse but still worked harder and harder until, inevitably, they fell apart. Or, in some more heinous circumstances, caught fire.

“So that’s what made them sick?” King asked, just to confirm. When Chosen One nodded their assent King felt his brow furrow. “They’ve been in that state for almost a full day now…”

“Then we’ve no time to spare.” At this point, King had been successfully dragged outside. Without any further warning, the Chosen One grabbed King around his waist with one arm, causing the taller stick to flinch. This didn’t give the Chosen One any pause. They merely tightened their hold and held out their opposite palm, allowing a strong jet of fire to erupt. The force of the heat propelled the two upward, and though King couldn’t do much but cling for dear life, Chosen One resumed speaking, “I’ll need you to guide me to the Second Coming’s current location. We need to get to them quickly. Or else…”

After a long, terrible ten seconds of nothing but the roar of flames filling the air, King dared to ask, “Or else what?”

“Or else…” The Chosen One couldn’t seem to bring themselves to look at King directly; instead, they directed their gaze upward at the gathering storm clouds above, “The impact on their physical form will be… severe.”

--------------------

Yellow couldn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep – only that she awoke to the sound of laboured wheezing echoing through the empty house. Heat in the air rose to suffocate her as she came to her senses, bleary eyes blinking away the last crumbs of sleep. Hands still clumsy from post-wake up grog reached up and found her glasses propped up atop her head. Grumbling in slight annoyance, she pulled them down to their proper place. Vision reacquired, she finally turned to take a proper look at Second.

The moment she caught sight of them, her eyes bulged out of their sockets.

Second’s very body was… deformed. There was no other way to put it. Unnatural hills and valleys covered the canvas of their skin; bright orange liquid beaded along their exposed head and arms. Their breathing was as visible as it was audible; Sec’s every muscle was required for the simple action of pushing breath in and out of their lungs.

Any remnants of exhaustion were quickly forgotten as Yellow scrambled to get out of the stupid, uncomfortable, UGLY armchair. In her panic she hadn’t bothered to mind her injured ankle. Once on the ground it rolled painfully, causing Yellow to waste precious seconds catching herself on the arm chair and grabbing that stupid, stupid broom that Mango had left her with instead of her friends. The ones she VERY MUCH needed right now!

(She knew something would happen, she warned them, why hadn’t they listened-?)

Using the broom as a crutch, Yellow hobbled over to Second’s side as fast as she could, working past the remnants of pain radiating from her foot. “Sec?! Second?!” She called to them, voice harried, as she sat by their side. There was no response, but Yellow didn’t bothering waiting for one. She reached out and placed her hand on their forehead.

Only to IMMEDIATELY rip it away as blistering heat scorched her limb.

Instinct had Yellow flapping her hand in an effort to numb the searing heat. As soon as that was accomplished Yellow held out her palm to inspect the damage, only for her jaw to drop and her shoulders to stiffen. Instead of the expected blistering red of a fresh burn, her hand was now smeared with something thick. And hot. And bright orange.

Bile rose up in Yellow’s throat. Her grip on the broom loosened, causing her to stumble.

Second was melting.

Second. Was. MELTING.

“No,” Fell from her lips as horror wrestled control away from Yellow, and without any regard for her injured ankle she twisted forward again, “No, no, no, no-!” Hovering over Second, it was impossible not to see it. The liquid she’d previously assumed was sweat was, in fact, Second’s very flesh turning to liquid before her very eyes. Yellow’s breathing quicken, and through her panic her mouth kept moving, “D-don’t worry, Sec, I’m here!” Though she knew they couldn’t hear her (she hoped, oh Turing, she hoped, please, don’t let them be awake through this-!), she couldn’t quite stop herself, “It’s going to be okay! It’s- It’s all going to be okay…!”

“D-don’t worry, Yel, it’s all going to be okay- grrh!”

Of course, Second didn’t respond. How could they? How could she let them suffer by themselves again?

“Come on Yellow,” She scolded herself, pushing away from Second to focus (how could she with their suffering right there?) “Think, think! Their body is turning liquid because their core temperature has risen higher than their melting point.” Which was downright horrifying, but Yellow wasn’t going to think about that. “In order to stop it, I need to lower their temperature to an acceptable range. But how can I do that-!” She caught a glimpse of the bucket of water on the table, but immediately discarded the idea, “No, it’s too little to do any good.” Also, in the state Second was in, Yellow was a little worried about literally washing their body away. Yeah, no. Not an option. “There’s got to be something else…”

She needed to lower their temperature. Fast. Despair was beginning to set in as Yellow’s scrambling mind failed to find any purchase when it came to her.

“The staff.”

Of course! The command block, amplified by the staff’s power, could alter entire climates. Yellow could bring the temperature down low enough to keep Second solid. It wouldn’t be comfortable for Yellow, but that was honestly the last thing on her mind at the moment.

Currently the staff was in the basement, set upon a table near where the offline Minecraft portal slumbered. “Hang on, bud!” She tossed back at Second as she pulled herself off the couch, noting how cool even the humid summer air was compared to their body. With both hands gripped around the broom like a lifeline, Yellow began to hobble towards the basement entrance. Her teeth gritted, Yellow uttered a solemn vow: “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

Yellow’s ankle quivered under the pressure as she pushed herself along, all but pole vaulting across the living room to King’s secret passageway. With every step she took, it felt like the trap door was stretching farther and farther away, but Yellow persevered. The pounding of the broom’s handle on the creaky wood match the pounding of her heart in her chest as she inched along, taking in quick, hard breaths as she moved.

Inevitably she reached her destination, and without much care Yellow kicked the trapdoor with her injured foot, opening it. The resulting surge of pain didn’t even slow her down; she immediately dropped down and began to descend. This, she knew, would be the most difficult part. Her injured ankle swung uselessly in the air beneath her while the other one braced itself on the ladder. One hand clung to the support while the other held fast to the makeshift crutch. In order to descend safely, Yellow would have to move her foot from one rung to the one below it, then slide her hand down the ladder. It was slow going (too slow, too slow, they were going to die, she was going to lose them-!), but Yellow made steady progress down one rung. Two. Three.

On the fourth, the broom got caught. On what Yellow wasn’t sure, but she felt the air get sucked out of her lungs as she pulled and pulled only for her crutch to not even budge. With no other choice, Yellow took the risk of grabbing the handle with both hands and pulling as hard as she could. It budged a bit under her efforts, and Yellow had all of two seconds to feel triumphant about her accomplishment before a loud snap smacked her down, pushing her off the ladder and dropping her the remaining distance to the ground below her.

It was cold and hard as it rushed up to greet her, and Yellow bit her lip to keep from crying out as her already injured ankle twisted at an awkward angle. Something Green had said yesterday, about her making things worse, came back to her, but Yellow shook off the intrusive thought and glanced around her, searching for her crutch.

She found it in two pieces, too short and fragile to be of use, and groaned in despair. “Oh, come on!” She complained aloud, as if someone would hear her. As if someone would care this time.

(Nobody listened the last time she begged for mercy. Why would anyone listen now?)

Even so, Yellow couldn’t give up – though she could no longer hear Second’s moans above her, she knew they were counting on her. She was the only one who could help now. If she let them down again, she’d never forgive herself. So she grit her teeth, rolled on to her stomach, and began to crawl.

Rocks and rubble dug into her at every angle – poking her stomach, scraping her chin, irritating her ankle. Still Yellow didn’t stop, not for a second. Her useless leg trailed along as she used every other muscle in her body to propel herself forward. It wasn’t long before her arms began to ache from the effort. A spider, or something of a similar creepy, crawly manner, ran over her hand, and though it made her shiver Yellow didn’t let it stop her. Her knee hit a particularly sharp rock, cutting through cloth and skin and causing liquid to dribble down her leg. Yellow pushed through it.

The glow of the machinery that fed the Nether Portal soon came into view, and Yellow finally found herself in the basement proper. She could see the bed and food dish that surely belonged to Reuben, the Redstone washing machine she’d designed for Red and Green nearby, and the makeshift kitchen Blue must have created just this morning. Yellow ignored it all and crawled towards the portal. Just next to it was a table. Not a crafting table nor a Minecraft table of any sort. Just a normal, ordinary wooden table. Yellow had never been sure what the point of it had been, and neither King nor Purple had been able to explain it except that it was just… there. If they needed it. At the time it had seemed the perfect perch for her precious staff, but as she clawed her way towards it Yellow could immediately see a previously unforeseen problem: It was too tall.

Just a smidge. Just enough for her to not be able to reach from the ground to pull herself up.

Another jolt of frustration ran through Yellow. Why was the universe conspiring against her today?! Oh, she’d show that table for being so tall! She’d take her pickaxe and hack it to bits, leg by leg, until no part of it-!

Oh. Duh.

Her inventory appeared above her, and from it Yellow swiftly picked out the diamond pickaxe Blue had given her earlier. With it Yellow was just barely able to gain purchase on the table, allowing her to pull herself up bit by bit. Once her hand hit the table Yellow dug her fingers into it like claws, reaching with the other one until the familiar texture of the staff met her palm.

Yellow’s breath stopped. Her body moved. She released her hold on the pickaxe and firmly gripped the staff with both hands. Using the Command Staff was as easy as using the command blocks themselves; that was to say, incredibly difficult, unless you knew exactly what you were doing. Normally Yellow would need to carefully consider the commands she offered as she typed them out; while it was amplified by the staff, however, all Yellow needed to do was will the command, and the staff made it happen. With just a thought the staff levitated upwards, dragging Yellow with it, and remained levitating as Yellow pulled herself up to lie on it. Normally when she took her staff for a flight she preferred to ride it like a surfboard, or sit on it like a witch’s broom. Now, though, she hardly cared about how she looked.

Second. All that mattered was getting back to Second.

The staff followed her will and rushed forward and upward, narrowly zipping through the tiny space that was the entrance to the basement. In less than a tenth of the time it had taken her to get the staff she was back. Yellow wasted no time. She willed the block to create a biome of snow, and a biome of snow it created. The temperature drop was immediate. Yellow could feel the humidity give way to frigid mist, and snow began to fall from block-shaped clouds drifting around the ceiling. Violent winds whipped around the living room, knocking everything off the coffee table and blowing away anything that wasn’t nailed down.

It was only when her shivering hands began to struggle to keep hold of the staff did Yellow dare to allow herself to descend to the couch where her dear friend slept. Her first glance had Yellow breath a sigh of relief as she saw their chest continue to rise and fall, but getting closer she could already tell the damage was significant.

Flesh on their face had begun to cave in. Orange stalactites clung on to their quivering muscles. Their head – their sweet, donut-shaped head – had distorted like she was seeing it through warped glass.

Seeing them so… broken caused tears to well in Yellow’s eyes. Every second she stared at their disfigured body made her stomach turn. And yet, despite this, Yellow dropped from the staff to the couch, still holding the device with one hand, and with the other she gently touched Orange’s forehead once again. It was still warm, scorching hot. They were… not okay, but still alive. She’d saved them. Yellow clung to that paltry victory even as salty tears burned her eyes. She’d saved them this time.

“Oh, Sec…” She whispered in anguish, gently brushing their hair out of their face. The soft strands had melted together; the texture like hardened slime. “Please, just hold on a little longer, okay?”

“Y’llow…?”

After seeing her friend melt before her very eyes, Yellow had thought nothing could strike fear in her heart like that again. That weak, whimpering voice in her ear proved her terribly wrong.

They were awake. All this time, while their body was turning to liquid, they’d been AWAKE.

“Wht’s… go’n on…?” They asked. Yellow could see the muscles on their face twitch as they fought against their own body, “Can’t… I can’t op’n my eyes… Wh’ts ‘appening…?”

“You…” Yellow forced herself to swallow back her horror, even as a new wave of tears threatened to fall from her eyes. She… she had to stay calm. She couldn’t let them panic themselves. Not now. “You’re running a real bad fever, buddy. It’s causing you to hallucinate.” Her hand drifted down to their cheek, pressing against it gently. Just enough pressure so they’d know she was there, even as the heat of their body burned her hand. “Just… try and go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up, okay?”

“Can’t,” They sobbed out weakly, “It hurts.”

Deep in her chest, Yellow could feel her heart shattering. Second… their bull-headed, overprotective, tough as nails Second… she’d never seen them in so much raw pain before. Not even when-

-The snap of the Doctor’s glove rang in her ears like the shot of a gun. He called out for a tool, and the assistant next to him handed it over with little fuss. A knife. Sharp and tiny, designed to cut through flesh. From her cage Yellow could see Second struggle to get away, hear them wrestle with their chains. But their efforts were in vain, and soon Yellow’s ears rang with the sounds of their screams-

As soon as the memory forced itself in Yellow shook it out. She couldn’t dwell on that now. There was nothing she could have done then. Second needed her here. Second needed her now. She wasn’t going to let them down. Not again.

Never again.

“I know,” She cooed as softly as she could; through some miracle, she managed to keep her sobs inside. Yellow allowed her precious staff to fall as she reached forward with both arms. One hand supported Second’s head, the other their waist. She carefully lifted and spun them both, until Yellow was sitting flush against the couch with Second curled up in her arms. “I know, buddy, but please. You have to try.”

Throughout the entire process of being moved, Second hardly mustered a protest. They merely pressed themselves into Yellow and shivered. “’M scared…” Their soft, raspy voice gasped out.

“Hush,” Yellow soothed, rubbing her hand up and down their back. The wells and bubbles made for an odd texture. “I know you are. But the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you’ll get better, okay? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Pr’mise?” Second’s slurred voice asked.

Nodding and forcing a smile she knew they couldn’t see but hoped they could hear, Yellow vowed aloud, “Of course. I promise.”

And just like that, Second drifted off in her arms. The process wasn’t instantaneous, but she could feel their muscles gradually relaxed as Second relished in her presence and slowly began to slumber. It was only when they were completely relaxed, breathing evenly through their mouth, that the dam broke. Tears poured down Yellow’s face. Slow at first, but then quickly falling like an avalanche of grief. She sobbed as loud as she dared to and cradled her dear friend close to her heart.

--------------------

At Purple’s insistence, the first thing Gold did was bind and gag their now unconscious assailant, then stuff him in the closet like last week’s unfinished homework.

It was only after he was safely locked away did Gold help Purple to one of the better lit sections of the room. Though they were still trying to hide it for whatever reason, every movement clearly caused Purple to wince from pain. Once sat down, Purple stripped their ruined shirt on their own with shaking hands, and once it was off they hunched in on themselves as they waited on Gold. Like this, Purple looked so small and scared, and it gave Gold a first hand look at the burns covering their back. Deep, dark scorches with splatters of blood dripping down their now bare back.

Looking directly at it was probably the hardest thing Gold had done all day.

Still, he steeled his nerves and dug the first aid kit out of Purple’s ruined knapsack. What met his eye was an assortment of bandages and sprays and creams – not a large amount, but vastly overwhelming to a kid who’d never needed to perform first aid before. He remembered the bare basics from school, but Gold wasn’t sure that would be enough to fix this.

Could he do anything to fix this?

Pushing that thought aside, Gold took a rag from the kit and doused it with a generous heap of water from one of the bottles also inside the bag. Once it was soaked through, he moved to sit next to his new sibling (if he even deserved the title after all this) and slowly, gingerly, applied it to Purple’s back.

Not unexpectedly, Purple flinched the moment the cloth made contact, and Gold couldn’t help cringing in response, “Sorry, sorry,” He repeated the apology over and over again as he carefully dabbed at the wounds. Blood clung to the cloth with every touch, and Gold did his best not to think about it.

“It’s fine,” Purple reassured, though their voice was husky from the weight of their pain, “I’ve had worse.”

Worse than this?! Either Purple was lying to try and make Gold feel better about this whole mess, or…

“But Purple… didn’t give up. Even when the beam was pointed right at them and their body was disintegrating…” King Dad’s voice quivered with guilt and sorrow; it wasn’t enough. Not when he spoke of nearly killing the stick standing anxiously by his side, “They kept pushing forward, and… and by the time I’d realized what I was doing to them… they were almost…”

Gold shook his head to clear away the memory. He couldn’t afford to get distracted right now, and besides, he… he’d promised Purple.

Misreading Gold’s hesitation, Purple spoke up again, “Don’t worry too much about getting all the blood off. We just want to keep everything from sticking too much. We’re supposed to disinfect wounds like this too, but right now we don’t have the time for that. Or enough antibiotic cream.”

“Er, right,” Gold agreed absently, eyes still glued to the wounds. Now that some of the blood had been cleared away, they looked… not better, necessarily, but less gruesome. “Just… let me know if it stings too bad, okay?”

Purple nodded to that, but didn’t do much more than wince and grunt as Gold finished rinsing the wounds. There were a few points where Gold had to pause to wring out the cloth and apply fresh water to it, but beyond that he worked quickly and diligently. Once Purple’s wounds were as clean as they were going to get, Gold tossed aside the empty water bottle and used cloth and began pulling out gauze and bandages. Applying them was difficult, with his hands shaking, but Gold pushed through it to focus on dressing the wound. If Purple noticed the shaking, they didn’t say anything.

Once Gold had wound the roll around them once, Purple finally spoke up again, “Hey,” They called, and Gold stilled instantly. What was wrong? Was he wrapping them too tight? Was he irritating the wounds? Or, or maybe- “You’re wrapping too loose. These need to be tighter.”

Gold gawked at Purple. Tighter? They wanted the wrappings tighter? “But- but-” Gold stuttered out, nerves getting the best of him, “But I don’t want to hurt you!”

For their part, Purple didn’t look upset or annoyed by Gold’s panic – only a bit stunned. “Well, if the bandages aren’t stopping the bleeding,” They pointed out, “That kind of defeats the point of the bandages, doesn’t it?” When that failed to stop Gold’s quivering lip, Purple sighed, “Look, I’ll let you know if it’s too tight, okay?”

Would they? Would they, though?

Instead of voicing the thought aloud, Gold complied, tightening the bandages some. “It’s just…” That this is my fault. That I jumped the gun opening that crate and got you hurt. “You’re in real bad shape. I don’t want to make things worse.”

Purple’s head swiveled around to look at Gold, and despite the pain they were clearly still in, they smiled tiny but bright, little dimples still visible even in the faint light. “You won’t, don’t worry. Trust me, I can handle a lot of punishment.”

Gold hummed, continuing to tend to his sibling’s wounds, but Purple’s words nagged at them. “Why do you keep doing that?” He asked.

“Hmm?” Purple murmured questioningly, “Doing what?”

“Every time you get hurt,” Gold explained, “You… play it off like it isn’t a big deal. It’s always ‘nothing I can’t handle’ and ‘I’ve been through worse.’ But just because you’ve had it rough doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter when you’re hurt now.”

Their muscles tensed under Gold’s hands, but unlike before he didn’t think that this was a result of any pain. Silence reigned for a long moment as Gold continued to fuss with the bandages, and just as he had become certain Purple wouldn’t respond, they did. “It’s fine,” They assured Gold, a hint of agitation in their voice. “I’m tougher than I look. I can take it.”

“Never said you weren’t tough,” Gold softly correctly, and Purple’s eyes darted to the floor, “Just that whenever you get hurt, you always treat it like no big deal. Like it doesn’t matter, but it does.” He sighed, the breath carrying all the exhaustion and stress of the day’s events, “Like just now. It was my screw up that caused the explosion and got you hurt, but you’re not even mad about it.”

“Wha-?!” That genuinely caught Purple by surprise. Once again their eyes shot up to meet Gold’s. “It wasn’t your fault! It was an accident!”

Shivers ran down Gold’s arms alongside Purple’s words. They were loud. FAR too loud. “SHH!” Gold scolded, and Purple, thoroughly chastened, hung their head and turned to look forward again. Gold frowned, but continued wrapping the bandages. Halfway done. “You tried to warn me about the explosive, but I didn’t listen to you.” Gold’s fingers stilled for a moment as he breathed through a sudden surge of guilt and fear churning deep in his gut. So much for putting Purple first, huh? “And because of that, you were…”

There was no need to finish that sentence. Not when Gold was staring directly at the results of his actions.

“You didn’t mean for this to happen,” Purple muttered, much more mindful of their volume this time. “You were just excited. Anyone could’ve made that mistake.”

Purple hadn’t. The entire time the two had been down here, they’d kept their cool, playing the big sibling far better than Gold had. He was supposed to be taking care of them, not the other way around. “But you were the one who suffered because of it,” Gold remained firm on this point; it was Purple’s suffering that mattered here. “And you keep acting like it doesn’t matter. Like, it’s okay because it’s you. I mean, you wouldn’t be acting that way if I got hurt, would you?”

“That’s-!” Purple cut themselves off, hands clenching into fists, “I’d do the same for any of my friends. You can’t just ask me not to protect you. That isn’t fair.”

Biting his lip, Gold carefully considered his next move. Getting Purple to open up was like a game of chess, except Gold had no idea which pieces were which. So… exactly like a game of chess. “You acted that way when Dad punched you, too.” He decided on finally, finally tackling that lingering issue. Aside from King’s fussing and Purple’s hand waving, it hadn’t really been brought up again. “You just brushed it off and made a joke about it. Literally everyone was more upset by it than you.”

“Well-” Purple stuttered a little, clearly unsure how to address that issue, “I mean, he’d just learned his kid was going to die. I can’t really blame him for overreacting a little.”

“That was more than ‘a little’,” Gold scoffed, “But, even when we’re talking about King Dad almost KILLING you…” Bringing up that memory made Gold shiver, “He looked more upset about it than you did. Any time someone else is suffering, be it me or Dad or one of your friends, you’ve jumped to their aid. But when it’s you, you play it off and act like you’re alright.” Gold’s trembling fingers halted as his anxiety began to overwhelm him. “Why?”

“I…” Began Purple, but Gold swiftly cut him off.

“And don’t say it’s because you’re used to it!” He snapped, a sudden burst of anger flaring within him, “If you just say you’re used to it, I’m actually going to start crying!”

Something like a startled laugh fell from Purple’s lips as Gold’s warning hit them. Once it was out, they stayed silent, each second counted by the harsh beating in Gold’s chest. He’d overstepped. Oh Cursors, he’d overstepped. Oh no, no, no…

His internal panic was cut off by Purple’s voice; soft and scratchy, raw with emotion, “Your dad says stuff like that too, you know?” They sighed, heavy and weary, finally letting the mask slip and their exhaustion show. The weak light highlighted the bags under their eyes, “That I don’t have to prove anything anymore. That I’m enough, just the way I am.” Shaky violet arms wrapped around the sullen stick, and Purple shrunk in on themselves, making themselves smaller. “But… it’s never been that way before. Everything I’ve ever done – ruling a Minecraft kingdom, stealing the dragon egg, helping your dad with his revenge – it was all to impress people who wouldn’t even give me the time of day.”

Gold couldn’t imagine living like that. Everything he’d ever done, succeed or fail, his father had been endlessly supportive, so long as Gold was following his heart and doing right by others. Making each and every action about the opinions of others… it was so foreign to Gold that he couldn’t even wrap his head around the concept.

“It’s not that I don’t care that I’m hurt,” Purple continued, “In a shocking twist of events, being in pain is painful. But I’ve been living like this for so long, I… can’t really turn it off. Heh,” A ghost of a smile, as cold as the winter, flashed on to Purple’s face. “Pretty pathetic, huh? I know I don’t have to impress anyone anymore – King and my friends like me for me, and they’ve always encouraged me to just be myself, no matter what. And I’m trying. I just… don’t know how to stop.”

For a moment Gold remained silent, taking in Purple’s words. He knew, of course, that Purple had issues – they were an abuse victim for cursor’s sake! But this… this was far beyond what Gold expected. Love had never been something Gold had to earn, not in his life. He’d been showered in it from the moment he was born.

And Dad used them. Dad took this kid, desperate for someone to love them, and…

No. Not the time.

“Well, now you have someone to remind you to cut it out!” Gold chirped, resuming wrapping the bandages. Just a little more to go. “If I catch you hiding your pain again, I’ll make sure to smack the stupid right out of you!”

Hearing Gold’s threat stunned Purple, causing them to sputter and gape at Gold, who matched their confusion with a cheeky smile. “Isn’t that… kind of hypocritical?”

“That’s siblings, baby!” Gold chirped, and he relished in the laugh it pulled out of Purple. He finished wrapping the bandages at last, their whole back now protected in a layer of thick white gauze. When Purple’s giggles quieted down, Gold continued, “Because I meant it. When I said we’re siblings now.”

Gold spoke those words with as much conviction as he could manage. Because even if Purple was only hanging around with him for King Dad’s sake, even if they just though Gold was some annoying punk who got in the way, Gold wanted them to know, more than anything, that someone was on their side for once.

Purple bowed their head, and Gold’s heart almost stopped when he heard their muffled sobbing. Anxiously he spun around to meet Purple face to face, only to be met with a brand new smile. One that stretched from ear to ear, making their dimples larger. “Sorry, I promise I’m not upset.” At Gold’s skeptical look, Purple laughed out, “Really! Really! I’m not! I’m just… I’ve never had a sibling before. And you’re so… honestly nice about everything. I’m not used to it, ‘s got me a little emotional. That’s all.”

This time, Gold was inclined to believe them.

--------------------

Birds chirping echoed in the space between the trees. The path ahead, worn trails in the grass forged by animals traversing their home, was lined with flowers and bushes of all shapes and sizes and colours. A warm wind pushed through the woods, carrying with it the scents of pollen and pine. The blaring sun that had once beat down on their heads was now masked by a shroud of gray clouds.

It was peaceful. Beautiful, even.

It made Mango sick to his stomach.

Before him, the kids and their pig walked along in mostly silence, only broken up by the tracker’s continued sniffing and oinking. Red held its lead, managing the group’s pace as he kept hold of Purple’s brush. Behind him Green trudged along with unnecessary hobbling. He’d been just fine when they’d left, but not long after they’d hit the forest his pace had slowed and his walk had grown unsteady. Frustratingly, he refused to complain aloud, instead continuing with his passive-aggressive show of exhaustion. Arguably, Blue was even worse, buzzing around her two friends like a bee. She didn’t say anything, just hovered as if she were waiting for something to happen.

He couldn’t say for certain how long they’d been following the pig’s nose as it led them through the forest. But it was too long. With every passing minute he could feel his child’s suffering, the mortal terror that had consumed them as Purple guided them further and further into this den of nightmares that was the Avery Woods. The terror was bone-deep, making Mango stiff as he marched behind the group with long, fast paces. There was no speeding this process up; he’d dared to try once, at the beginning of the forest, only for Red to rebuff that Reuben needed to concentrate if they were going to find anything, let alone his Gold.

There was nothing he could do but follow along and pray for his sunshine’s safety.

Another few paced later, Red chirped up, drawing everyone’s attention, “Uh, Blue, remind me: Is this the way we came last time we went through these woods?”

One brief moment of shock later, the nervous Blue responded, “Er, no. The trees are all different, see?” She pointed out the low-hanging branches of the woods surrounding them, “The branches hang lower, and the leaves are a darker shade of green.”

“Wow, you can tell all of that just from the branches?” Red asked, looking up at the trees they passed. Mango huffed. What did the types of trees matter? Did these kids really care so little about his missing child that they could just casually talk about the Cursor damned trees of all things?!

(You need them, Mango. You need their pig to guide you to your baby. Don’t lose your head.)

The question seemed to have left Blue puzzled as well, “Uh, yeah? There’s also the shape of the leaves that gave it away. The ones we passed the last time we went through these woods were distinctly star-shaped, while the ones in this section of the forest are mostly lobed, with some pine trees scattered around-”

“NERD!!” Red interrupted without warning, causing all present to flinch back at the unexpected volume of the shout. Mango himself was able to contain his response, only digging his nails into the skin of his arm, but he could see Green stumble out of the corner of his eye.

Although Blue too was taken aback by Red’s sudden yell, she swiftly pulled herself together with an annoyed scowl, “What- you were the one who asked!”

“I only wanted to know about where we are now,” Insisted Red with an ear to ear grin that struck Mango as insincere. He was lying, and he damn well knew it. “You’re the one who went all technical on me.”

“Screw off!” Blue shouted back, not buying into his words one bit. Her attention was now fully focused on Red; she barely even took notice of Green approaching from behind, tensed as if to grab her. Oh, if those idiots started a fight when his sunshine was still lost in these woods, there was going to be HELL to pay. Mango could already feel his hands curling into tight fists.

One hand raised up as if to placate Blue’s sudden spike in temper. The other held firm to the pig’s lead. “Whoa!” Red cried out, as if she was the one unnecessarily escalating things, “Okay, okay! I’ll just go ahead and… leaf you alone!”

Silence.

For a long, stunned moment Blue stood still, all of the tension leaving her body in an instant. A sound like a choked snort escaped from her nose. Then a chortle, barely contained by a bit lip. As she struggled to contain herself, Blue managed to get out, “Did… did you say all that just to set up that pun?”

It took a moment for Green to shake himself out of his stupor, but once he did he immediately swept forth and tossed his arm around Blue’s shoulders. “Pfft, are you kidding?” He asked, voice infuriatingly light and playful, “This is Red we’re talking about here. You really think he has the brains to lead you on?”

What was happening here? Mango’s eyes darted between the three of them, as if expecting one of them to magically start making sense and explaining.

A mock offended gasp fell from from Red’s lips, “How dare you! I’m a comedic genius!” He snorted and held his nose up high, “If you really can’t understand that after all time, then I think you need to take a nice, long… lumber.”

“Okay,” Blue scolded, though a laughing tone in her voice betrayed her true thoughts, “Even you have to know that one was awful.”

“Eh, wasn’t my best,” Red agreed. “Maybe Green’s right. When it comes to jokes, I’m all bark, aren’t I?”

That did it. All at once the three broke down into laughter, leaving the once mute forest brimming with the echoes of their merriment. Mango’s eyes darted between them, his mouth agape. How… how…

How DARE they?!

“What is the MATTER with you all?!” He snapped loudly, cutting through the jovial mood like a knife. All laughter immediately ceased at the sound of Mango’s voice, and though that brought him cathartic satisfaction, he didn’t let up, directing all of his attention at a stunned Red, “Is this all some kind of joke to you brats? My CHILD’S life is on the line, and you’re just goofing off like this is some field trip!”

Each kid had the fun sucked out of them in a unique way: Green seemed thoroughly stricken by the accusation, expression appropriately ashamed, while Blue looked more like she wanted to try and kick him again. And Red, the little instigator of this mess, had halted his forward march and was staring back at Mango like he was the crazy one.

“Take a breath, old man,” Red scoffed back at him, and the use of Purple’s nickname made his nose wrinkle up, “Even if Gold and Purple were in danger – which, come on, I’ve seen arcade machines more dangerous than these woods – showing up all tense and paranoid isn’t going to make the situation any better. It’s best we go in with a calm, clear mindset.” He smiled wide and threw out his hands, nearly smacking the nearby Blue in the process, “And what better way to clear the mind than with a couple jokes? Best way to beat a bad mood is with a good sense of humour, I say!”

He topped off the remark with a cheeky smile, and Mango’s blood began to boil. Before he knew it he was marching long, angry strides towards the little clown, and with herculean effort managed to avoid strangling the brat. Instead, he lowered himself to meet the stick eye to eye, “Do you think this is funny, you little punk?!” He spat, noting the other wince away from his voice with no small satisfaction.

“I think you need to chill out a little,” Red rebuffed, pushing him away. Green and Blue had reached them, each tensed as though expecting a fight, but Red waved them off. “You don’t think we’re worried about Purple and Gold too? Of course we are! But panicking and blowing up at each other isn’t going to solve anything!”

“Oh, quit pretending you care!” Mango snapped back, “Literally this entire time you’ve just been fooling around! You expect me to believe you’re taking this seriously? Have you ever had a single serious thought in your life?!” Red’s eyes narrowed in on Mango, and he reveled in the reaction, “The only useful thing you’ve done the entire time I’ve known you is bring up that pig, and only because you wanted to break King’s rules and take it outside! I’m sure your friends wouldn’t be laughing so much if they were the ones in trouble, now, would they?” Mango snorted, “Not that it’d matter to you. It’s all one big joke, isn’t it? If it’s anything else, you’re absolutely useless.”

Hardened eyes met Mango’s glare. The smile had been successfully wiped from Red’s face, giving him an appropriately dower expression. His fist, still clenched around the pig’s lead, tightened, “…You,’ He muttered as he turned around to resume the chase, “Have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Any satisfaction Mango might have gotten from knocking Red off his high horse was quelled instantly by Green’s sudden grab of his arm. When he looked down at the brat, Mango could see all traces of guilt washed from his expression, replaced instead by the same type of anger Blue had. “That,” He sneered at the adult, “Was uncalled for. Red’s just trying his best to keep us from worrying. You have no right to speak to him like that!” Green’s eyes shifted, “This is my fault. If you have a problem, take it up with me.”

Perhaps, on another day with any other issue, Mango might have respected that Green was taking responsibility for his friends’ screw ups. Now, though, all he could think about was how their stupidity could cost him his life, his light, his baby everything. “Forgive me,” He snapped back coldly, “If I’m not able to hold my temper when your little friend is making stupid jokes while my child has been kidnapped-!”

“Okay, one,” Blue chimed in from his other side, drawing his attention away from Green, “Purple didn’t kidnap anyone. They’d sooner jump off a cliff than hurt King like that.” Without giving Mango much of a chance to refute the statement, she continued, “And two: your attitude isn’t helping anything! Even if Gold was in trouble, you screaming at everything that ticks you off will only make everything worse for everyone!” Her eyes narrowed up at him, “Gold included.”

How dare she bring up Gold, like he was just some… some trump card that would automatically win the fight?! “Don’t you talk about my kid!” Mango snapped back. “I just found out I was going to lose him, and then he disappeared! And you brats did nothing to stop it! I have a right to be FURIOUS!”

“And I get that!” Blue shouted back. “You don’t think I’m upset too?! Purple and Gold go missing, and I’m completely left out of the loop! I’m livid!” Out of the corner of his eye, Mango could see Green shift and look away, but didn’t have enough time to gauge his reaction before Blue demanded his attention again, “But you don’t see ME taking it out on people! Because I’m not a massive toolbag!”

Mango opened his mouth toss Blue’s words back at her when Red cut through their argument, “Hey!” He shouted, drawing all eyes back to him. No longer was Red’s attention on any of them; rather, Red was focused on the pig, who’s sniffing and snorting had increased in intensity. Mango suddenly straightened, his hair standing on end.

They found something.

Squealing loudly, the pig raced forward, and everyone ran after it, argument all but forgotten. Branches smacked into Mango’s face and dug into his arms, but he hardly paid them any mind. They were closing in on Purple. On Gold. His kid, his sunshine, he was just within arms’ reach. Let the forest tear him to shreds; as long as he could get Gold out safely, that was all that mattered. No matter what happened.

No matter what else was at stake.

The pig lead them through the bush and bramble for some distance, running along at a speed the sticks could only barely keep up with. Mango’s lungs pounded in rhythm with his footsteps, his every heartbeat yearning to reach his child’s side as quickly as possible. After running through bushes and trees and trails, finally the pig halted, squealing loudly and sharply as its snout pointed soundly at their final destination.

Upon laying eyes on it, Mango felt his blood run cold.

“What is this?”. Green asked. After running that distance Blue had wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close, and Green went along with it, resting his head on her shoulder, “Some kind of mine?”

“Can’t be.” Red debated. He was knelt down next to the pig, stroking its head, while his eyes remained firmly glued to the entrance of the underground tunnel. “It’s too… fancy looking. More like a subway station. But why would there be a subway in the middle of a woodlands nobody ever visits?”

Without any thought, Mango’s mouth began to move. “This isn’t a subway,” Though it was his voice speaking, the words felt distant, like an old recording, “These are the Ethernet Tunnels – the old way of moving between websites. But they’ve been abandoned, and fallen into disrepair. They’d been sealed up for being extremely hazardous.”

And his kid was down there. His kid was down there.

Even Red had lost his lackadaisical stance, brow furrowing and stance tense. “But, wait, Green said they were following after King. So why would they go down there…? The Chosen One lives on the surface.”

“Maybe they’ve burrowed underground.” Green quipped sourly, “You know. Like a rodent.”

Blue’s confusion was clear in her voice, “Um, probably not?”

Though the arguing continued, the voices of the kids grew more and more distance as Mango shambled towards the tunnel like a zombie. Even Purple disappeared from his thoughts entirely, any anger evaporated underneath the crushing weight of fear that suddenly pressed down on his chest.

Everyone knew about the Ethernet Tunnels. How the tunnels had been closed for being dangerously unstable in the wake of wireless internet travel. The fact that Rocket Corporation suspected criminals like the very Chosen One they were seeking used the tunnels to escape the authorities only cemented the decision to close them off to the public indefinitely. It could collapse (crushed under rubble, suffocating, reaching for help) or have become unstable (glitches eating at his skin, pulling him under, deleting him byte by byte) or be filled with monstrous villains-! (The Chosen One and The Dark Lord, standing tall above his child, glaring down their noses as they prepared to reduce him to cinders…!)

Trembling, Mango’s fingers flew up to pull at his hair, his collar, anything he could use to ground himself, to escape the suffocating terror. Gold was down there. Gold was down there. There was no denying this fundamental truth. If Mango wanted his kid back, he needed to move. Now.

While the others were still bickering about how and why and other unimportant things, Mango made swift strides towards the entrance of the tunnels. They were supposed to be sealed in some way – Mango’s memory of how precisely escaped him (if it had even been mentioned at all – Rocket Corp was convenient for all who lived in the city, but it had a bad habit of skirting around the details) but it was probably supposed to be brick or concrete – anything lesser and even a scrawny teenager (like Gold, he was so strong, but so small, he was just a child) could break through. And yet, the entrance wasn’t even locked. One simple tug and it opened right up without a hint of resistance.

“Hey-!” Green called behind him, voice a thousand yards away. “We can’t just go in! We need a plan first!”

Mango only barely made out what he said: the throbbing pulse echoing in his ears distorted them like water. But even if he had been listening, it wouldn’t have mattered. Nightmares played on repeated in his head, again and again, and those terrible visions spurred him on in spite of the danger he knew was down there. It wasn’t long before he could hear the resolute plodding of footsteps following after him, but Mango paid them no mind.

All that mattered was Gold.

--------------------

From the safety of the closet’s entrance, Purple clung to its frame as they watched Gold take slow, careful steps towards their prisoner. The stick remained unconscious, slumbering on in blissful ignorance as Purple’s sibling (sibling, Gold really wanted to be their sibling, Cursors-!) knelt down next to him and began patting him down. Purple’s breath stalled in their chest. It wasn’t long before Gold’s hand was reaching into his pants pocket, and emerging triumphantly with a piece of paper. Excited, Gold held up the paper and waved it at Purple, who briefly mimed opening it, and Gold complied. His eyes scanned over it before his smile came back in full.

Ah. So he’d found it, then.

Gold was back in the main room in a heartbeat, and it was only when he was safely back by their side did Purple allow themselves to relax. “You were right!” Gold exclaimed in a harsh whisper, “He did have a map on him!”

“Well, of course I was right!” They bluffed with confidence, reaching over to rustle Gold’s hair. He rewarded them with a big, full-faced smile, all sweet and sugary. Deep in their chest, Purple felt their heart began to melt. How could one person be this sunny? “Who in their right mind would venture around this place without a map?” It could have just as easily been that they’d memorized the map, though, or had a digital copy on a password protected phone. Thankfully, their gamble paid off. “Sorry to make you do the hard part, though.”

Already Gold was shaking his head, “Hey, it’s no big deal. You’re hurt, and I’d already handled that joker once.” He huffed and flexed his arm. “If he wanted another beat down so bad, I’d be happy to give it to him!”

Snorting, Purple guided Gold towards the flickering light source. There was still a part of them that riled with envy, but any thoughts of jealously were growing weaker, fading into nothingness just like with the gang back home. Gold was like them in a lot of ways, bringing out the best in Purple just by being around.

Besides, no harm in a healthy sibling rivalry, right? (They really had a sibling now, holy heck!)

The two of them opened it up and took a look. “Okay,” Gold’s finger jabbed into a room labeled ‘base’, which they assumed was the room they’d accidentally blown up. “So, we know we were there… and then, where did we go?”

Reaching into their short-term memory, Purple’s own finger reached down and traced the room, before gliding down the hallway, matching every turn they’d taken until they reached the hallway that Purple was fairly confident was right outside their door. “Pretty sure we’re… here.”

“Wow!” Gold’s bright, shiny eyes looked at them in amazement. Like he actually admired Purple. That was still something they were getting used to. “I don’t know how you remembered all that. You’re incredible!”

Still, no harm in playing it up a bit. “Naturally,” Purple made a show of preening over the praise for just a second to draw a little giggle out of Goldie. Once they’d gotten that out of their system, Purple returned to work, “So that puts the nearest exit…” Their eyes skimmed over the map, until at last they spotted their target: the elevator. Purple stretched their other hand, ignoring the slight strain it put on their injuries, and pointed to it. “Here. Hmm… It’s not… too far.”

In fact, it was seven hallways away. Five straight, two right. That shouldn’t have been a problem, in theory.

The reality of the situation was that Purple couldn’t move very fast right now. Even walking to the doorway to watch Gold pickpocket their prisoner had been a challenge. As they were now, Purple wasn’t much more than a burden to be carried.

As if reading Purple’s mind, Gold piped up, “We’re gonna need to be careful if we want to get through unscathed,” He mused, looking over the map. “Those thugs went out in pairs of two, so that guy’s partner should be around here somewhere. And by now the other two may be in the area as well. If we’re gonna get out in one piece, we gotta be sneaky.”

“Luckily, sneaky is my middle name,” Boasted Purple, and neither of them brought up the incident in the woods where Purple had accidentally given away their position. “We’re going to have to take it slow, but we should be able to handle it.” Their eyes met Gold’s, and when Gold smiled with sincere affection, Purple returned it. “Together.”

“Yeah,” Gold agreed. “Together.” Given that Purple was the one who would be navigating, they would be holding on to the map, putting it in the pocket of the vest Gold had loaned them. Their own shirt was in tattered pieces somewhere in the corner. Wasting no more time, the two stood, and Gold allowed Purple to use him as a crutch to make maneuvering easier. They only stopped in front of the closet door. “Um,” Gold’s hesitation made Purple’s brow furrow. He wasn’t about to suggest… “Shouldn’t we untie him or something? This place is huge, they might not find him for a while.”

He was. Cursors, grant them patience. “He’ll be fine,” Purple waved off. “They’ve got a nice blood trail leading from their base to here. I’m sure someone will come for him eventually.” Exactly where the blood trail had come from hung over the two siblings, but neither acknowledged it. Honestly, it didn’t matter all that much to Purple if someone came for the guy. He’d tried to hurt them. More importantly, he’d tried to hurt Gold (The Old Man’s kid, his life, their new sibling, the nicest person in this whole damned internet…) He could rot in that closet for all Purple cared. That said… “But we should grab his ax. If he does wake up and get free, at least he won’t have his weapon.”

To that Gold agreed, and quickly found and handed the item to Purple before turning around. With Purple’s back in the condition it was, they’d mutually decided that Gold should handle Purple’s backpack. Gingerly Purple maneuvered items inside their rough sack around, so nothing would get damaged, before fitting the ax in as best they could. With its size, however, the handle ended up sticking out. If Gold had any complaints about that, he kept them to himself. Instead, once everything was packed away, he threw Purple’s arm over his shoulder, and the two began their escape.

It was rather slow going as the two made their way through the halls. Purple’s injury was the most obvious call of the delay, forcing the two to hobble along at a snail’s pace. Even this was irritating Purple’s wounds, but despite Gold’s concerns, it was more important for the both of them to get out alive than cater to Purple’s pain. Gold seemed unhappy about that, but he understood.

Navigation proved to be another issue. In spite of his excellent martial arts skills, Gold apparently possessed the memory of a goldfish. (That wasn’t too mean, was it? This whole sibling thing was tougher than Purple thought.) At every potential turn he stopped and looked to Purple for direction, and Purple would have to point out the correct way. His constant double-checking wasn’t without its charmed, but there was no denying how it slowed their progress.

One hallway from the exit, the echo of words reached Purple’s ears. They perked up and swiftly turned to face Gold, who was standing stiff and still as he too heard the familiar voice.

“-ordered me to get to the nearest exit and stand guard, sir.”

“I see… dumb move, going after potential intruders on his own, but I can understand his reasoning.” The voice was the light and scratchy one from earlier. “Alright, continue standing guard. Katana and I are en route with reinforcements. ETA five minutes or so. Radio if you need anything.”

“Roger that, Revolver. I’ll be on standby until you arrive.”

The voices went quiet. Pushing down the surge of panic, Purple got Gold’s attention with a tap on the shoulder and gestured as well as they could towards an open doorway. No guarantee of safety, but it would be easier to plot with some walls between them and their opponent. Gold responded with a curt nod, and the two filed into the room as quietly as they could manage.

“Don’t panic,” Was the first thing out of Purple’s mouth the second they thought it was safe to talk. Just saying that, they knew, wouldn’t be enough; Gold’s hands were trembling as Purple took them in their own. Still, there wasn’t much more they could offer than words to set his mind at ease. “We’ve come this far, Goldie. We can do this.”

With a sharp inhale and a steady exhale, Gold nodded his agreement. “We can do this,” He agreed breathlessly. His hands squeezed Purple’s, stiff but no longer shaking.

Good enough, Purple decided, and began to lay out the situation. “We have less than five minutes,” They recalled, “So whatever we do, we need to do it quick.” Purple tapped their chin with their finger, “I don’t want to put you at risk, but… do you think you could fight that guy? Like you did the last one?”

A grimace crossed Gold’s face. Not good news. “I don’t know… on one hand, the space is a lot more open. My fighting style involves a lot of movement, so it’d be easier on me. But on the other hand, he’s a lot bigger than the guy from before. More muscular, too.” After pausing a moment in thought, Gold decided, “If I was careful I might be able to win, but it’d take too long.”

Okay, that plan was a no-go, then. “What if we snuck up on him?” They suggested instead. “If you could get in a clean blow to his head, do you think you could knock him out?”

“Not with my bare hands…” Gold sighed, and Purple felt their shoulders slump as their mind raced with new ideas. Before they could pull any of them together into a coherent plan, Gold suddenly brightened up, “But, wait…” He reached back, grabbing the handle of the hatchet in Purple’s backpack, and pulled it out, “If I used the back of this ax, I could probably get enough force to do it!”

“Probably isn’t good enough, Goldie,” Purple chided sternly, “We only get one shot at this. Can you do it? Yes, or no?”

Gold turned the ax over in his hands, musing over the question. It only took a moment for him to look back at Purple, determination dancing in his eyes like fire. “Yeah,” He nodded confidently, “I can do it.”

Purple smiled, and Gold echoed the gesture. “Great,” With Gold’s help, Purple picked themselves up. Their back ached in protest. All Purple could do was breath through it. “Okay, so you stay here. Hide in the shadows, and when I lure that guy over, take him out quick and quiet.”

“Quick and quiet,” Gold repeated, nodding, “Got it. But wait… how are you going to lure him over?”

That was the tricky part. “I’m going to have to use myself as bait,” Purple revealed, and when Gold began to protest Purple quickly shushed him, “I know, it sounds bad, but hear me out: I’m going to draw him over and pretend to be dead.” It wouldn’t be the first time Purple had played possum. People tend to ignore those who were already defeated, so playing dead was a vital survival strategy. At least, that’s what Pops had always said, “It’ll catch him off guard long enough for you to get in a clean blow.”

“But, still…” Gold didn’t seem sold quite yet. “What if he hurts you?”

“I’m not too worried about that,” Brushed off Purple, “After all,” They winked, all bright and playful like Red would do, “I have my big brother looking out for me.”

Okay, Purple knew they were playing dirty with that one, and a part of them cringed to say it aloud. But it did the trick. Gold’s eyes lit up again. He pumped his fist and nodded firmly. “Okay!” He agreed, and though there was a hint of his previous nervousness, it was almost entirely buried.

By his desire to look out for Purple, of all things. He was just as weird as his Old Man.

(That was why their chest felt so tight – the weirdness. Nothing else to it.)

First Gold helped Purple to their place in the hallway just outside the door, getting them to the opposite side of the hallway and kneeling next to them as they laid limp on the ground. Once Purple was properly set up, Gold retreated to his hiding spot in the shadows, a dark spot with a good view that even Purple, knowing he was there, had trouble seeing him in.

The trap was laid. Now all that was left was to cast the bait.

Rubble was easy to come by in these ruined tunnels, so Purple took a bit of concrete and tossed it against the nearby wall. In the empty hallways the sound echoed like a siren, and the resounding call from Ax (Purple was pretty sure that was his name. Ax… Ax? Were he and Hatchet related?) made the hair on the back of their neck stand on end. “Hatchet? That you?”

“Easy…” The familiar voice of their Pops rang out in their mind, the same way it used to do when they were… around. “Relax all of your muscles. Hold your breath as long as you can… if you need to breath, do it quietly, through your nose, when they’re not looking.” Purple followed Pops’ words like they used to, as familiar as riding a bicycle, “There you go, Blossom… Now, if anyone breaks in, just fall back and pretend to be dead. Nobody’ll bother messing with a corpse.”

Footsteps approached, harsh and rapid stomping against the ground that had Purple fighting against their instincts not to tense up. Each step had the sound become louder, closer, and to avoid making any movements Purple focused all of their attention on a nearby piece of debris. Focus on the pebble, they told themselves, focus on that and don’t look, don’t look, don’t look…!

The air changed as the stick bent over them, so close Purple could feel his breath on their arm. “What the…?” He mumbled, so quietly even Purple could barely hear his words. All of their muscles were as lax as Purple could make them; the only exception was their lungs, which burned with the effort to hold in their breath.

Dread hung in the air, hot and heavy like the breath of the stick hovering over them.

A click of a button, “Rev,” Ax’s voice rang out, and Purple bit their lip to keep from gasping out, “Think I found the intruder-”

Thunk. The sound of the wooden back of Hatchet’s weapon hitting Ax in the head caused Purple to flinch, although by that point the ruse had accomplished its task. Ax’s remaining breath escaped in a gasp of pain before he crumpled and fell.

With a bit of effort, Purple turned themselves to face Gold. His shaking hand quickly found Purple’s, pulling them up as quickly as they could in spite of Purple’s wounds. They didn’t waste time with words; no doubt Gold heard Ax call over the radio too, which meant they had precious little time to make their escape.

“Ax?” Called Revolver’s soft voice over the radio, “Ax, what’s going on? …Hold on, Katana and I will send the reinforcements ahead of us. It’ll be there soon.”

“You two dumb scribbles better be okay-!” Katana’s voice yelled through just before the radio cut off.

Purple and Gold exchanged a glance, one look that communicated all the fear that both of them felt, before hobbling towards the exit together. With their brother’s help, Purple was able to move a lot faster than before, but at the cost of waves of agony rippling down their back with every movement.

“Sorry,” Gold whispered the second he noticed, “We can’t exactly take it slow right now.”

“I know,” Purple responded, biting back the usual wave of brush-offs that had become second nature. They doubted Gold would take kindly to another ‘I’m used to it’ after earlier, “Let’s just focus on getting out alive, and we can deal with the rest later.”

That compromise seemed to set Gold’s mind at ease for now, and so the two continued. Past the broken down elevator, into the emergency stairwell concealed behind a big red door. The steps were small and metallic; each footstep was met with a pattern of pounding clangs as Gold and Purple raced up in tandem, as quickly as they could manage. The only sounds that echoed louder were Purple and Gold’s gasps for air as their lungs worked overtime to keep oxygen flowing through their stressed bodies. The emergency lights that would have once made this room glow red were almost completely depleted, leaving flickering ruby to illuminate Purple and Gold’s steps. The visibility was poor, and had the two not been clinging to each other for dear life, Purple wondered if one of them would have tripped trying to get up these stairs.

Quickly, the two reached the landing and spun around to race up to the second level, the In-processing Offices. Through the little slit on the entrance, Purple could see barren offices, even more empty than the abandoned apartments now beneath them. Gold pulled them past it quickly, his eyes never drifting from their destination. The two ascended the next flight of stairs, up to the next landing. Freedom was within their grasps.

Halfway up the next staircase, the door exploded open somewhere beneath them. Gold gasped and tried to speed up their pace even more. They didn’t get much farther than the Out-processing Offices entrance before something – something metallic, something cold – grabbed hold of the two and tossed them into the door. It’s wooden frame crumpled like paper against the force, and Purple gasped as they bounced and rolled across the floor through the empty space. The ax dropped out of Gold’s hand, clanging loudly against the ground. A burning sensation crawled across their entire back like sharp electricity, keeping them pinned to the ground. They squeezed their eyes shut and hissed.

“Purple!” Gold gasped out nearby, and his too eager hands spun them off of their back and on to their side. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

Before they could even recover enough to do more than breath raggedly, loud stamps shook the floor of the office. Gold’s breath hitched momentarily before his presence shifted to put himself in front of Purple, and at last the violet stick summoned their strength and wrenched their eyes open.

What stood before them was the very robot whose blueprints they’d seen not an hour ago – near as tall as King, with broad construction and thick metal making up every part of its body. Each individual part was covered with a thick coat of armour; its eyes shone a brilliant cyan as they locked on to Purple and Gold and aimed their arm at them. With a series of metallic clicks and whirls the arm transformed, and what Purple could only guess to be some kind of arm cannon was pointed at the siblings instead.

A glance upward revealed Gold had frozen in place above them, hands still clutching Purple to keep them propped up. His eyes matched the stare of the bot, wide and terrified, with little shrunken pupils. “Purple,” He spoke quietly, “I don’t think I like robots anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” Purple muttered, returning their gaze to the robot, “I thought the weapon hadn’t been completed yet.”

“Hmph, so you’ve learned that much.” The scratchy softness of Revolver’s voice soon joined them as they stepped out from behind the machine. In the glow of the cyan light, Purple could make out that they were a touch shorter than Purple themselves, and quite slim. “I suppose we haven’t been careful enough with our security. Got lax, thinking they’d always be around to protect us.”

While Purple glared daggers at the new stick, refusing to show fear in the face of almost certain demise, Gold cocked his head in confusion. “Wait,” His eyes narrowed as he tried to see around Revolver, “What happened to the other one?”

Revolver cocked their head, but didn’t get a chance to respond before Katana took her cue and burst into the room, gasping and panting like she’d just run a marathon. She collapsed to the ground in a breathless heap, moaning out, “How… how are you… so fast…?”

Her entrance had everyone staring for a long five seconds, stunned and a little confused. After that, Revolver shrugged her off with a simple, “Anyways,” And turned back to Purple and Gold, “I’m impressed you’d managed to gather that much information. It’s true; our secret weapon isn’t quite finished yet. There is special equipment we’ve yet to install, and it hasn’t been field tested yet.” Looking them over with an analytical eye, Revolver smiled, deceptively sweet, “But I think this is a perfect opportunity to perform one. Don’t you, Katana?”

“As long as… I don’t… have to do it… anymore…” She huffed, lifting herself off the ground.

“So it’s settled,” Revolver took a step forward, waving their hand out dramatically, “Delta-A,” The robot swiftly snapped to attention, “Eliminate the intruders.”

The cyan lights in its optics switched to a menacing red glow as its gaze narrowed in on them. Purple’s body reacted before the fog of confusion could lift, pulling them backwards away from the machine in spite of the constant protests of their burns. Gold, too, moved back, arm outstretched to shield Purple as Delta-A took slow, heavy steps towards them. It aimed its arm cannon at them, light glowing within as it charged up with fatal energy. Unable to stand, all Purple could do was brace themselves for the moment of obliteration.

Before it could finish its attack, Purple heard a quickening metallic patter of thunk, thunk, thunk approaching rapidly. They gazed up just in time to see Revolver neatly jump to the side while Katana got knocked to the ground yet again. Delta-A, being a robot, didn’t deviate from its assigned task, and so didn’t move to defend itself when a foot clonked it in the side and knocked it off balance. The cannon’s position shifted, and went off somewhere to Purple’s left. Gold moved quicker than Purple’s eye could catch, huddling over them to shield Purple from the resulting explosion. Rubble and dust flew through the room at lightning speeds.

Finally, after a long moment filled only with the sounds of Gold’s gasping, he carefully moved off of Purple. Dust clouded the air, but through its shroud Purple could see a familiar figure; Tall and furious, standing above the fallen droid. He spun around, and the blaze of his furious stare pierced through the cloud between them.

“Dad!” Gold shouted out, shock and relief pouring out in equal measures. The same elation hit Purple as well – up until Mango spun around at his kid’s cry and met Purple’s eyes. A fire lit in Mango’s gaze, something dark and angry that had Purple flinching into Gold, trying to shrink into their sibling.

Welp. They were dead.

It wasn’t just Mango, though. Not long after he made his dramatic entrance, Blue and Red and Green rushed in after him, knocking over Katana once more in the process. The three zipped to Purple’s side in a heartbeat, crowding them the same way they’d crowded Second just this morning. Blue and Green braced Purple’s one side, while Red joined Gold in supporting their other, and the four of them helped Purple rise off the ground at last.

“You okay?” Blue asked, holding Purple’s gaze with clear worry in her eyes. Looking directly at them was surprisingly intense; the concern shone through like the moon reflected light.

All Purple could do was avert their attention and stare down at her feet, “Yeah, ‘m fine, it’s no big deal-”

“Don’t you start with that again,” Gold scolded, his hold on Purple tightening ever so slightly.

“Hmph,” Revolver stepped back into place, swiftly drawing their gun and aiming it at the group. Mango moved away, sweat dripping down his brow, as Revolver casually strolled around the group. Behind them, Katana popped up again from her second unplanned collision with the ground, “It’s just one thing after another today… Delta-A!” Immediately the robot leapt up from where it was collapsed on the ground, “Did I not tell you to destroy these intruders?” Its eyes glowed red again as Revolver scoffed, “Gonna have to report that bug up the chain.”

Everyone crowding around Purple moved to defensive stances – Red and Blue released them to stand as shields in front of the pack while Green and Gold helped Purple take some steps backwards. Mango, ahead of them, backed up to place himself between Gold and the weapon.

Blue and Red exchanged a singular glance between them before nodding in sync and charging towards Delta-A. The bot switched quickly from the slow-charging arm cannon to an arm blade and swiped at its attackers, who dodged in different directions. Blue flowed around its attacks like water, weaving and dodging with ease, while Red swept in to deliver a hit with a diamond Minecraft Sword. Then the robot would focus in on Red, and he’d parry and counter and block while Blue would charge in with her own sword, delivering a combo of slashes and cuts that would knock the bot back.

Pressure at their side redirected Purple’s attention to Green, who nodded his head forward in obvious indication of his intentions. Ah, right. They should probably make their way out while the villains were distracted.

Not two steps towards the exit, however, a single shot from Revolver’s weapon had the group stopping in their tracks. He stood cool and collected in front of the door, on the opposite side of the room, while Katana by his side smiled wickedly with her own blade drawn.

Two more shots rang out. Green released Purple to jump in front of the group and deflect them both with a diamond sword. The force of the gun had him stumbling back, all but tripping into Gold and Purple behind him. Suddenly Green was the one in need of support, gripping Purple’s shoulder and Gold’s sleeve painfully tight. Revolver reloaded his weapon, spinning the barrel dramatically before aiming his gun again, but before Green could react the diamond sword was snatched out of his hand.

When Purple looked up, they almost expected Blue or Red to have broken away from the robot for a last minute dual sword save. Instead, to their surprise, they saw that it was Mango who’d taken the sword, knocking away a single shot as he charged forward at the two of them. He first swiped at Revolver – quite clumsily, Purple noted with concern. The charge only worked because it caught the gunman off guard. Katana, on the other hand, was not so easily startled, immediately deflecting the blade away from her long-range cohort and making Mango stumble back a few steps.

“Aww,” She cooed mockingly, “First time holding a sword?”

“I’m going to make you pay,” Mango spat back sourly, holding his weapon with both hands, “for trying to hurt my son!”

Katana only giggled in response, charging him again with a flurry of quick slashes. She was toying with him. Purple could tell immediately – the slashes were faster than Mango could react, but instead of disarming him or killing him outright she instead hit only the blade, leading him in a deadly dance of her own design.

“He needs help,” Gold whispered, having clearly noticed what Purple had.

Green was moving forward without even being asked. “I’m on it,” He promised, switching his weapon to a diamond ax. Purple’s full weight shifted into Gold as Green released them and charged forth. His heavy swing was met with only air as Katana broke away from Mango and jumped back. Her eyes darted over Green’s form, poised but off-balance, before she darted back into the fray. She met King’s blows head on but had to dodge Green’s, giving him an advantage.

What evened the odds was Revolver, whose sudden shots would force Mango or Green back at inopportune times and create openings for Katana. When one of her opponents would try and break off to take them out, Katana would shift gears and focus her efforts on whichever one had attempted to escape her. She was fast and hit hard; between Green’s clear dizziness and Mango’s inexperience, it took both of them to keep her occupied.

Purple bit their lip, cursing themselves for letting a simple injury hold them back. Even with Gold’s help, it was taking all of their strength not to fall over at this point. And if Gold broke away to join the fight, it would leave Purple wide open, an obvious target to get the group to back down.

They were stuck in a deadlock.

In the midst of battle, Katana suddenly ducked down below an uncharacteristically off-kilter swing from Green. She dropped into a sweeping kick, knocking Green to the floor. Purple would have expected him to bounce back up immediately, maybe cartwheel into a counter-attack, but his reaction time was oddly slow; Green was only barely able to stop himself from hitting the floor. Mango’s own attempts to intervene were quelled by a sudden rush of bullets from the freshly reloaded Revolver, forcing Mango’s attention away from Katana.

A twisted grin crept on to her face as she raised her blade again, and Purple’s heart dropped. They opened their mouth to call out-

-only for Katana to be knocked back, a fresh arrow sticking out of her arm. Familiar green swirls poured from the wound, and Purple felt a sense of karmic satisfaction at Katana’s growing revelation that she couldn’t lift her arm all the way. Their eyes followed the path of the arrow to Blue, crossbow in hand, who sighed in relief at the sight of Green safe.

…Leaving herself wide open for Delta-A to break away from Red and attack her from behind. The blade struck her shoulder, causing Blue to gasp out in surprise at the sudden blow. She crumpled forward, clutching at the wound with one hand. When Red darted forward to intercept, the robot quickly performed a spinning attack that knocked Red across the room before it raced for Blue.

Green and Mango both attempted to move in, but Katana slid in front of them. Her sword was clutched in her other hand, and though there was a clear strength difference compared to her dominant arm, she was still fast enough to play the defensive and drive them both back. Revolver’s swift shots stalled Red’s progress, and Gold gasped as Delta-A drove its blade into the ground, just barely giving Blue enough time to roll out of the way. She attempted to stand, but was forced back into the dirty tile by Delta-A’s foot smashing into her spine.

Purple’s heart stopped. Blue was going to die. Blue was going to die, and there was nothing Purple could do about it. They had nothing: no skills (just like Pops always said, so useless-) no time to run interference, no weapons-

Wait.

“Quick, turn around!” Purple commanded Gold, shifting to put their weight on his shoulders instead of his side.

Gold complied, even as he asked, “Why?”

“You’ll see,” they muttered, digging through it with one hand while keeping himself braced on Gold’s shoulder. They didn’t dare let their vision shift to Blue until their hands clutched around their prize.

There was only one rocket left. This was their only chance.

Purple took careful aim. Their arms were shaking as the muscles in their back struggled to support the weight. Gold, however, was quick on the uptake this time; his arms reached back to help steady the rocket from behind, freeing up Purple to focus on aiming. Their tongue stuck out as they focused all of their efforts, and once they had a good enough shot, they shouted, “Hey, tin can!”

Amazingly enough, Delta-A looked back, just in time to be struck by a rocket and sent it flying.

“Seriously?” Revolver snapped at the weapon, the loudest and scratchiest their voice had gotten, before swiftly moving to dodge something tossed at their head. Unfortunately for them, that something was an Ender Pearl, so when Red struck them from behind with the hilt of his blade, Revolver could do little else but fall forward.

Katana gasped and abandoned her fight, falling to her knees to help Revolver back up. Gold noted the opening immediately and shouted for everyone to make their escape. Green hurriedly rushed to pick Blue up, the two stumbling against each other as they gave one another the support they needed. Red filed towards the door, standing guard as he ushered everyone out ahead of him. Purple winced as Gold maneuvered to drape them over himself, their arm around his shoulder as he dragged them over to the door. From the corner of their eye, Purple could see Katana already getting Revolver to their feet.

Mango, who’d joined Red at the door, spoke aloud the very thought that entered Purple’s mind, “Gold! Come on, we need to hurry up!”

“We’re trying!” Gold snapped back, more panicked than actually angry, “But Purple’s hurt pretty bad! We can’t go any faster!”

Not for lack of trying, though. Each step brought a new shock of pain down Purple’s spine; it showed in how their legs and arms shook with the effort of moving. Mango’s eyes darted between the two of them, anxious and worried, before he bit his lip in grim determination and surged toward the two.

After everything that’d happened, Purple had almost expected to be shoved off of Gold and left on the ground, so it was quite the surprise to instead feel a pair of gentle hands lift them into the air. Their eyes flew up to Mango’s, who averted his gaze as he shifted to hold Purple as best he could with minimal touching of the wounds. In hopes of making it easier, Purple wrapped their arms around the taller stick’s neck, taking the opportunity to look behind him at Gold, who stood stock still in shock.

“Come on!” Mango yelled behind him as he began running, Purple clutched in his hold. The bumpy motions of movement were incredibly unpleasant, but ultimately easier to endure than trying to run themselves. Gold quickly took the hint and followed after, easily keeping pace with his much taller father. What had taken Gold and Purple nearly the entirety of their time limit took only a mere minute without Purple’s wounded body holding them back.

(Had that been it? Had this entire thing gone south because Purple was the one holding Gold back?)

As they rose, the air got warmer and warmer, until at last they reached the fancy entrance. It had been built to impress; even without furniture or plants, the architecture was sturdy and held up beautifully, especially compared the lower floors. The fleeing group passed under domed archways and ran by faded spots on the walls where paintings once hung. The carpet beneath them cushioned the sounds of everyone’s footsteps, so Purple could hear the metal clanging from behind them as their attackers gave chase. Each echo made Purple’s heart pound just a little bit faster.

The entrance gave way, swiftly kicked open by Red, and Purple squeezed their eyes shut as sunlight hit their face for the first time in what must have been hours. Wind around them carried a thick humidity that indicated rain to come. When they managed to force their eyes open, Purple could see storm clouds gathering above – not the thick darkness of thunderclouds, but enough to easily leave them drenched if it started to rain.

All the while they didn’t stop moving. Green and Blue were in front, leading the way, while Red brought up the rear of the group. Mango stayed in the middle of the chaos. He’d continued holding on to Purple, but glanced behind himself every so often to make sure Gold was still following behind. Loud oinks cut through the noise, and the group paused momentarily as Reuben ran out from behind a nearby shrub. Shocked by its sudden appearance, Gold gasped and jumped away, but Purple couldn’t find it in themselves to feel the same surprise. After all, how else would the group have tracked them through the forests so quickly?

That sure was some pig.

Not twenty paces away from those accursed tunnels, the leaders of the pack were startled by a wall of blazing fire that suddenly sprung up from the ground. Blue and Green stepped back, arms quickly stretching out to keep anyone from accidentally running too close. Everybody turned to look behind them, where Katana was supporting Revolver with her one good arm as the two stumbled through the entrance. Delta-A leapt down and landed next to them – at first Purple wondered if it had been flying, but one look up was all it took to notice the scorched leaves barely clinging on to their trees.

It had been so silent catching up to them – Purple hadn’t even noticed it was so close. (Sloppy, weak, going to get themselves killed-!)

“I tire of this,” Revolver muttered, only barely audible under the roaring flame around them. “Delta-A: Finish them.”

Delta-A crouched down, braced itself, and then leapt nearly twice as high as Gold had earlier, landing back in the same tree it’d fired from. Once again it’s arm transformed into a cannon, aimed directly at the people Purple loved.

And this time, there weren’t any rockets to stop it.

--------------------

King had only been in the air for maybe a few minutes, at best, but already he could confidently say that flying was overrated.

Hot air suffocated him, exasperated by the flames King was very aware were mere centimeters away from scorching his exposed legs black. Wind hit his face constantly, causing unpleasant pressure where it pushed against the momentum of the Chosen One’s flight. It also guided a fair amount of bugs directly into his eyes and nose, which was unpleasant at best. And that wasn’t even considering the clouds around them; at the speed they were traveling, each drop of rain would sting, and that wasn’t considering any lightning or thunder that might pop up.

Why Purple seemed to enjoy this so much was something King could never understand.

Flashes of light just barely visible from the corner of his eye drew King’s attention away from the open skies and down toward the ground. Somewhere between the trees a fire had broken out. Little pillars of smoke cut through the treeline to pierce the sky like beacons of ongoing destruction.

Something about it struck a familiar pang in King’s heart – one he recognized easily from the Booth 30 Incident, the day where his heart had died. And then he’d felt it once again when Purple had been blown away by the apocalyptic destruction King himself had called down, on the day he’d found his new heart. It stirred his stomach and stilled his lungs, leaving every hair standing on end.

Gold and Purple were safe at home. So why was he suddenly so anxious…?

Having also noticed the fire, Chosen One had slowed down, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What is going on down there…?” They wondered aloud, soft voice swallowed by the roar of their own jet flames.

Swallowing a fresh wave of fear stuck in his throat, King swallowed his nerves and managed to force the words out. “Someone could be in trouble. We should go take a look.”

Chosen One paused, silence reigning between the two terrorists. “No,” They decided finally, moving forward again. “The Second Coming’s condition may become critical at any moment – we don’t have the time.”

Under normal circumstances, King might have agreed with Chosen One. But that strange feeling just wouldn’t leave. On the contrary, it got stronger the longer he gazed at the billowing smoke. Inhaling sharply, King pondered what he could say to change Chosen One’s mind. What came to mind wasn’t any sort of debate or logical argument, but Purple’s cheeky expression as they bartered their way out of chores. “C’mon, Old Man,” They’d begged, pouting pathetically, “I’m not feeling well. You wouldn’t make me vacuum while I’m not feeling well, would you?”

Before he’d learned how to tell when Purple was bluffing, it’d worked better than he cared to admit.

Yellow had mentioned that the Chosen One had some sort of emotional connection to the Second Coming, right? King could leverage that. Purple-style. “It wouldn’t take too long,” He insisted, “And besides, what would Second say if they knew you’d ignored innocents in trouble?” King followed that up with a low hum, like Purple would do when they were pretending to ponder something over, “I think they’d be horrified to learn someone else had to die so they could live. Don’t you?”

Growling, The Chosen One halted so suddenly that King was nearly thrown off of the ride. “Fine,” They snapped back, “I’ll make short work of it with my ice powers, and then we’ll continue on. But if something happens, it’ll be on you.”

King absently agreed. He couldn’t decide if it would be worse if he was wrong… or if he was right.

Flying to the flames took almost no time at all – thirty seconds, maybe. In that time little dots of colour appeared in King’s vision, and with every inch closer they got more and more detailed, until they’d become painfully familiar. King could quickly make out Blue and Green at the rear of the pack; Blue’s one hand grabbed at her shoulder, while Green’s normally perfect stance swayed with the wind. Red stood up front with that pig of his (outside of the basement too, tch), the only one apparently uninjured, glaring angrily at a trio of unfamiliar sticks ahead of him. And sandwiched between him, to King’s mounting horror, was Gold and Mango. Thankfully for his heart, his little sunshine didn’t look too worse for wear, keeping a firm stance, while Mango took his place in front of them, one arm outstretched to push Gold behind his father. His other arm was cradling someone, and King felt his heart stop as he recognized their familiar violet colour. Mango despised Purple; he’d made that perfectly clear, and despite King’s best efforts he knew Purple had picked up on it. The only reason he’d bother carrying Purple was if-

Purple was hurt.

Anger and fear struck him all at once. But he refused to allow himself to panic; to put these children in harm’s way again because of his own foolishness. Instead he clenched on to Chose One harder, watching the group of strangers as they grew more detailed with each passing second. One of them – wait, was that even a stick? What was that thing…? – jumped up to the top of a tree without any warning, and pointed their glowing arm at the group of children.

King’s heart stopped. “Chosen One-”

“I see it,” Chosen One cut him off, increasing the intensity of the blaze coming out of their palms and propelling the two faster. Just as the strange stick fired, the Chosen One dashed into the middle of their trajectory and propelled an orb of energy at the incoming projectile. The two collided, consuming each other in a brilliant explosion of light.

As the explosion settled down, the two landed between the unfamiliar sticks and the gang. Given Chosen One’s general power set, King had no qualms about turning his back on the attackers to check on the children. “Is everyone okay?” He called out over the roar of the fire trapping them. In response he received a chorus of half-hearted reassurances that did little to ease his fears.

Gold was unable to look him in the eye. His vest was missing, King quickly noticed, though it didn’t take much more than a cursory glance to find that it was instead on Purple, buttoned up to conceal them in place of their own absent shirt. Underneath it, King could see bandages sticking out, and he felt a sudden sharp stab to his heart. Oh, that poor kid…

“Hmph, look who finally decided to show their face,” Spat the shorter of the two strangers, standing balanced against another stick at their side, “The City’s most wanted terrorist themselves.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” The Chosen One greeted casually, as if they didn’t have their palm extended to blast them out of existence. “If you don’t mind, however, we have business to attend to. So I’m going to give you the chance to simply… walk away.”

The taller of the two sticks scoffed, her eyes narrowing in on the Chosen One, “You’re joking, right?” She asked, venom dripping from her words, “You think we’re just going to let you go? Keep dreaming.”

“Listen,” The Chosen One’s voice grew stone cold, “You know who I am. You know what I’m capable of. You know I’m giving you a chance to escape unscathed. And you’re arguing.” They spoke with dignity and self-assurance, even as the sticks ahead of them grew more and more inflamed with each word. “See sense. If we fought now, you’d stand no chance against me.”

A sour smirk grew on the shorter stick’s face, expressing a wicked sense of glee. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. Our merciful benefactors have changed direction entirely; they want nothing more than your destruction. And they’ve created the perfect weapon to bring you to your knees. Delta-A! To my side!” King winced as the voice broke, struggling to speak so loudly. The stick that had been in the tree hopped down, and King quickly recognized that it was no stick at all.

Rather, what stood before them was a robotic life form in the shape of a stick, with metallic joints and glowing red lights for eyes. Just from a cursory glance King could tell it wasn’t quite complete yet, with exposed wires sticking out of its joints for hardware installation, but it was definitely made of sturdier stuff than the masters standing behind it.

“This robot was specifically designed to bring down monstrous sticks like you and your partner,” The Chosen One’s eyes narrowed at that, though they didn’t bother to interrupt. “It’s made of an alloy that even the strongest sticks in the city couldn’t break. Now, Delta-A,” The robot stood at attention, “Destroy the Chosen One.”

Delta-A moved forward with single-minded purpose, and King instinctively shifted to put Gold and Purple (and Mango, he guessed) behind him, to shield them from that thing. But there was no need. Its raised blade had been caught by the Chosen One’s hand, who didn’t even flinch. They tightened their fist, and the blade broke in their hand, tiny metal shrapnel falling to the ground.

“Is this really your secret weapon?” Chosen One asked, a mix of incredulous and annoyed, “This toy? I don’t think you’ve done your research correctly.” Delta-A transformed its arm into a cannon, and Chosen One quickly caught the charging gun and forcibly aimed it upwards. Steam rose from it as the Chosen One’s palm began to exude heat once again. “If you had, you’d have known that my old partner would make more dangerous weapons in his sleep.” Then, without warning, the Chosen One’s head snapped forward, biting into the alloy. Supposedly even the strongest sticks weren’t able to break it, and yet, after it had been heated, their sharp teeth sunk through the metal like butter. Then, as if to add insult to injury, they spit it out at the stunned sticks behind the robot. “And then I’d eat them for breakfast.”

With great force the robot was tossed up into the air, and the Chosen One blasted off after it. They took in a deep breath, and at first King wondered if they were going to breath fire at its remains. Instead, ice began forming around the metal, growing thicker and thicker, until the mass was near twice the size of the robot it encased. The Chosen One rose in front of the ice block, pausing their propulsion to instead rub their hands together quickly. Sparks flew, and the Chosen One threw forth a powerful bolt of lightning that turned the block of ice to slush in an instant.

As a bonus, the falling slurry extinguished the flames behind the group, putting an end to the forest fire. It also doused the entire company in cold water, but given the heat, King wasn’t terribly concerned about that. He did note, with a small measure of relief, that Purple seemed mostly untouched by the liquid. Small comforts, he supposed.

Chosen One landed hard like a stone, pieces of the robot falling down around them. The two attackers stumbled back; injured and without the robot’s protection, all they could do was stumble back and wait for the Chosen One to decide whether or not it was worth it to snuff out their lives.

For a heart stopping moment, the Chosen One stood above them, eyes following their every quivering movement. Then, at last, they scoffed and turned away. “Last warning: Leave. Now.”

This time, the offending sticks complied, though reluctantly on the shorter stick’s part. Their taller companion had to lead them back to the tunnels (wait, were those the old Ethernet Tunnels?) behind them, glaring daggers all the while. Chosen One hardly seemed concerned, merely turning back to the large group gathered before them.

“Well, that was fun,” They said, voice as dry as sandpaper. “Now, we need to go-”

“Hold up a moment,” King interrupted, cocking his brow at them as they rolled their eyes like a rebellious teenager. The more time he spent in the company of the Chosen One, the less he felt he understood. But that was something to be unpacked later; for now, King turned back to his family. Mango was setting Purple down on the ground, while Gold had picked up a piece of debris and was staring at it with a furrowed brow.

This, however it went, probably wasn’t going to be fun for any of them.

“What, precisely, are you all doing out here?!” He asked, hands braced on his hips. Purple’s immediate response, to suddenly stiffen up, made him regret his tone.

Before he could correct his mistake, however, Mango opened his mouth. “Yes, Purple,” He spat out the name like it was rotten, and King clenched his teeth to keep himself from saying what he was thinking. Seeing Purple’s shoulders droop and eyes fall to the ground, like they were resigned to this unwarranted resentment, only made his hatred boil all the hotter. “Care to explain why you dragged my child out into the middle of the woods after we just learned he was going to die-?!”

A snarling growl stilled his voice. “Will you both stop?!” Gold snapped, marching over to embrace Purple in a protective hold. They didn’t look up until they heard Gold’s next words: “Running off like that was my idea! All Purple did was protect me!”

Mango recoiled as if the words had struck him. “You- what?!”

“I was worried about King Dad,” Gold admitted, staring off to the side to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze as they all stared at the little ray of sunshine, “So I snuck out to follow him. And when Purple caught me, I guilted them into coming along so they wouldn’t get in trouble. And- and then they had to protect me from a bomb, and-” He sighed heavily. “And it was all my fault.”

Glancing back at Mango, King wasn’t entirely surprised to find him utterly stunned by this confession. So was Purple, when King’s attention drifted back to them, though they were quicker to recover.

“That’s not true!” Insisted the violet stick, trying to stand up straight as they yelled. The effort caused them visible pain, and though a part of King wanted to embrace Purple until their agony disappeared, he knew them well enough to know that any attempt to interrupt would just get him snipped at. “Going after King was my idea! Gold just tagged along! If anyone should get in trouble, it’s me!”

“Stop trying to cover for me!” Gold yelled back.

If he was being honest, King was more inclined to believe Gold; Purple had a nasty tendency to lie, especially when they thought they were saying what someone wanted to hear, while Gold tended to be more honest. Given how Gold’s protective grip hadn’t even loosened, however, it could really go either way.

“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” King interrupted their bickering with a firm tone. The two stopped arguing, redirecting their attention towards him. “It was a monumentally stupid one. You’re both supposed to be smarter than this.” Purple’s eyes drifted downward again, thoroughly chastened, while Gold glared off to the side. Feeling tension pooling in his temples, King sighed and stopped to massage them for only a second before approaching the two kids. He knelt before them, bringing himself down to his height, before continuing, “Honestly, it doesn’t matter now. I’m just glad you’re both…” He’d been about to say okay, but eyeing the bandages under Purple’s vest, went with, “Alive,” instead. “How bad is it, Purple?”

They hesitated for a moment, “It’s not too…” Their eyes drifted back to Gold, who met their gaze with a stern look all his own. Purple sighed, “My back got burnt pretty badly.”

King raised a brow. Normally it took a good half hour of arguing them down before Purple was able to admit to not being okay. Whatever they and Gold went through today must have really put them through the wringer to admit it so easily. “Okay, and is it all taken care of already? Or do I need to look at it back home?”

“We didn’t have enough antibiotic, so we just cleaned it with water and bandaged it,” Purple explained.

Alright. King could work with that. “Okay, then once we’re home I’ll help you disinfect it,” He told them, gently patting their shoulder. He hummed as he looked them over, “We’ll have to change your bandages by then, anyways-”

“UGH.” The Chosen One’s sudden groan cut through King’s consolation, and before he could rebuff them he was interrupted again by loud wooden crackling. Off to the side, the Chosen One had apparently grown impatient and had plucked a tree from the ground as easily as one might pluck a flower. They then spun around, glaring, and that was all the warning anyone got before a swift swipe of the tree gathered them all up at once. Including Green, Blue, Red, and that pig, who had apparently just been watching the drama from the sidelines. “We literally don’t have time for this! Everyone, hold on! If you fall off, I’m NOT coming back for you!”

Chosen One tucked the trunk of the tree under their arm as one might a suitcase before lifting off, flames bursting forth from their palms yet again. Everyone else found purchase against each other and the tree’s surviving limbs to keep from plunging to their doom as they swiftly gained altitude. Mango, lucky bastard that he was, had managed to get sandwiched in between a number of convenient limbs, making hanging on very easy. Green had also managed to get a decently good spot, practically sitting atop the tree, although one arm was occupied by that darned pig, leaving him with only one hand and his thighs to keep hold of the tree. Red and Blue, meanwhile, were hanging on together; thanks to Blue’s injuries, she too could only use one arm, so Red took some of the burden off of her by bracing himself around her, essentially using himself as a harness to keep her safely on the tree.

Gold and Purple were both clinging on near him; Purple right next to him, Gold on their other side. The effort to keep clinging to the tree showed in Purple’s voice as they huffed and grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, King could see their trembling fingers falter, and their body began to slip. King’s arm surged forward in a beat of his racing heart, grabbing their arm to keep them safely rooted. He murmured gently, “I’ve got you-”

“I’ve got you-!”

King blinked, and peered over Purple’s head at Gold, who blinked back. His little sunshine had moved as if in tandem with his father, grabbing Purple’s other arm to help them hold on. Now that they were no longer slipping, Purple was able to relax some, sighing as they allowed King and Gold to hold them up.

Over their head, King offered Gold a kind smile.

He stared over Purple’s head and tried to offer back his own smile, as sweet as honey. But mere seconds passed before he could no longer keep up the facade, and it faded into a grimace as he looked away.

Ah.

Well, that was fine. It wasn’t like King didn’t deserve Gold hating him, anyways. All that mattered was that he was safe. That they were safe. Anything else was more than King deserved.

--------------------

It wasn’t long after being picked up by King and the Chosen One that rain began to fall – a weak drizzle that stung like slaps when they hit Mango’s skin. Up this high the wind carried an uncomfortable chill, and in order to keep his hold Mango couldn’t move, meaning he could only rely on the sounds of Gold’s breathing to tell him that his sunshine was okay.

They’d only been flying for maybe a total of ten minutes or so, but Mango could confidently say that flying was overrated.

“Hold on!” King’s booming voice suddenly called out, “See that house down there? The one with the burnt bush? Our destination’s right across the street from there!”

Airline Chosen One made an unceremonious drop-off, shaking everyone off of the tree and on to the empty lawn. Groans echoed amongst the group as they picked themselves up, but Mango immediately jumped to Gold’s side. By the time Mango had reached him, though, he was already back on his feet, using himself as a crutch to help Purple stand.

Something sour stirred in his gut at the sight. Purple- Mango didn’t even want to think about Purple right now.

Thud! went the tree as it was casually tossed aside. The Chosen One didn’t give it any more regard as they tossed the tree aside. “Finally!” They exclaimed, wiping their hands on their pants. “Come on! We need to hurry!”

“Are you going to explain what’s going on?!” Blue yelled after Chosen One as she scurried after them, one hand holding on to her injured shoulder. Her little friends chased after her.

“No time for that!” They called back, yanking at the locked door. Purple yelled something, and Gold finally left their side to keep Chosen One from damaging the house.

As Mango went to keep that maniac terrorist from ripping the door off its hinges, a sudden hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked behind him to find King, brow furrowed and mouth twisted in an angry snarl.

“You and I,” He warned under his breath, voice quiet but with clear anger, “Are going to have a long talk about this.”

Mango huffed and stepped out from the hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need this right now.

Gold had successfully gotten the door open with what was apparently Purple’s key, but it was Red who was first through the door, bursting in with an explosion of excitement. “We’re back-!” He’d begun to cheer, only to then shout in surprise as his feet flew out from under him. Peering around the other kids, Mango’s eyes widened at the cause of this disruption. Ice. The entire ground of the house was covered in a sheet of ice. Even the air of the house was colder, he noted as he stepped inside, feeling more like the dead of winter than the hot summer it was outdoors. The Chosen One had stepped out of the rain at some point, but paused just inside the door, staring straight ahead at the couch.

“What the-” King glanced around the frozen over living room in confusion for but a few brief moments before turning his attention to Blue and Green, “What the hell did you do to my house?!”

Confusion and mild indignation was all he got in return. “We didn’t do this!” Blue exclaimed.

Before she could explain herself any further, Red’s sudden shout of, “Holy cursors!” Caught the attention of everyone in the room, drawing all attention back to him. His mouth gaped open in shock even as he picked himself up, slipping on the icy floor multiple times, and propelled himself towards the couch. It wasn’t long before Blue and Green were following his example, screaming out in horror as they ran.

At some point in their absence Yellow had moved from the armchair to the couch, and she was now cradling Second in her arms like a child. Except Second had… deteriorated. Rapidly. Their body looked like it had been put through the washing machine, all wrinkled and distorted, and their breathing was audibly ragged. Mango had to avert his eyes to stave off the sudden turning of his stomach. Yellow’s entire body shivered from the cold, but despite that she had made no moves to wrap herself in the blanket that had once been covering her friend. She endured the cold stoically, head bent to keep her full attention on the ailing stick in her hold. It wasn’t until he himself was clutching on to the arm of the sofa that Mango realized he’d been stumbling towards it as well.

“Where…” She growled, not looking up from her charge, “Have you BEEN?!” Her shivering arms tightened around her companion, “Do you have ANY idea what we’ve been through?!”

Everyone had huddled around the couch now – Blue was knelling next to Second and Yellow, checking them over, while Green stood off to the side with his hands covering his mouth and Red hovered, clearly uncertain on what to do. Gold had taken Purple’s hand in his own and was clutching it tightly, the two on the opposite side of the couch from where Mango himself stood.

How could they have gotten this bad? It’d only been a few hours- how…?

“Ow-!” Blue cried out as she retreated, shaking her hand as though it were burnt. The other still clutched her shoulder. “They’re burning up! I don’t understand- What happened?!”

“They started melting!” Yelled back Yellow. She finally looked up at the group, and if the tracks of tears running down her face hadn’t been indication enough that she’d been crying, her red, watery eyes would have given her away.

All present recoiled. “Melting?!” Red asked, horror evident in his voice, “What do you mean melting?!”

With a growl in her voice, Yellow snapped back, “I mean they started turning from a SOLID state of matter in to a LIQUID state of matter! There are not that many definitions of the word melting, Red!” Her harsh tone caused all around her to recoil.

King, who had hung back near the door, suddenly piped up, “Is this what you meant by ‘severe impact on their physical form’?”

Everyone turned to face the Chosen One, whose eyes remained locked on to the Second Coming – their Second Coming, Mango mused, and for the first time he wondered what the Chosen One themselves made of that. They were so absorbed in their stupor that it took a long moment to realize that they’d been asked a question. “Huh?” They asked dumbly, finally breaking their gaze away from Second, and then their memory caught up to them. “Oh, no. I just thought their organs would fail. I didn’t think it would be nearly this bad.”

“B-but you can fix it, right?” Blue practically begged, beginning to shake herself, “They’ll be okay, right?!”

“The Second Coming can fix themselves,” Chosen One responded, tone even despite their obvious disturbance at the child’s state. “They just need a little… boost.” Their hand rose up, and a white glow began to pour out over he room. Mango was pushed back by Blue as she and the others scrambled out of the Chosen One’s way. His back was pressed to the plaster, made cold by the sudden storm that had overtaken the living room, and from there Mango watched as the Chosen One approached the Second Coming with their palm outstretched, reached out, and softly touched their hand.

And then the world exploded into an eruption of emerald light.

It spread like a shock-wave, originating from the ill stick on the couch and quickly rushing out in all directions, leaving a sparkling trail in its wake as it escaped the confines of the house. Mango involuntarily flinched as it hit him, but quickly relaxed as he felt the various aches and sores all over his body begin to fade. His eyes darted up, to his own reflection in a nearby window. In real time, he could see the boot-shaped bruise on his face fade into nothingness, and when he reached to touch it, he felt no pain. Only the old calluses on his hand.

Other around the room were clearly experiencing the same phenomenon, as Purple stretched themselves out without a hint of their previous pain on their face; only surprise. He could hear Green gasp aloud in shock. “My head!” He exclaimed, holding it in his hands.

“My shoulder!” Blue too gasped in surprise, removing her hand to reveal no trace of her previous injury except for a red stain on her palm.

“My knees and toes!” Red yelled, jumping excitedly.

That got him odd looks from everyone in the room. “Your legs were hurt?” Blue asked, her eyes darting between his legs and his face. Every muscle in her body was rigid with nerves.

“Oh,” Red looked down, clearly regretting speaking at all, “No, I just wanted to be included. My bad.”

Blue sighed heavily, all of the tension leaving her body in a single exhale. Despite the healing they’d all undergone, she looked utterly exhausted.

“Wait,” Yellow spoke up, drawing all attention to the couch yet again. She was still holding Second tight in her shaking arms. Their body, thankfully, had returned to its pre-melting state, with no lingering trace of their close call. Still, something had Yellow panicked, verging on hyperventilating. “S-something’s wrong- they’re not waking up-! Why aren’t they waking up?!”

Seriously? Mango’s teeth ground in to each other. After all of that, they still weren’t better?

Though Yellow’s worry had everyone on the room on edge and panicked again, the Chosen One remained calm, approaching her and placing a soft hand on her shoulder. Mango flinched, almost expecting them to set her ablaze, but instead they spoke carefully and calmly, “Relax,” They consoled, in spite of a hint of annoyance in their voice, “I only gave the Second Coming enough energy to heal their wounds – and everyone else’s, apparently.” The Chosen One pursed their lips, clearly puzzled, but continued, “Now they’re at zero again. They’ll be inflicted with extreme fatigue – which will not be fun to recover from – but unless they get hurt again, they’re at no immediate risk.”

Yellow’s breath hitched, “So- so they’ll be okay, then?” She asked, her breath shaky.

Irritation flashed on the Chosen One’s face, clearly not pleased about having to repeat themselves, but they did it anyways, “Just let them rest, and they should be fine. A little pained and uncomfortable for a few days, but fine.”

All of the tension melted from Yellow’s muscles as she slumped back, dragging her unconscious friend with her. She pulled them close, cuddling them like a child clinging to a stuffed animal, and the clear fear in her body language made something sink to the bottom of Mango’s stomach.

This- This hadn’t been his fault. He’d done the right thing, going to protect his child. It wasn’t like he could’ve known a child running a slight fever would devolve to the point of physically melting.

A loud zapping noise rang out, swiftly followed by the temperature rising to… not normal levels, for this time of year, but definitely warmer than the icebox it had been previously. Glancing around, Mango found King holding something – a staff of some sort, with a Minecraft block placed upon it.

Mango’s eyes narrowed. It was… cleverly designed, he could tell even from a distance. Hardware specifically created to draw out the true power of whatever was placed within it. This thing was powerful – even without getting a good look at the inside, Mango could tell. And it had created and dispelled an ice storm in his living room as easily as simply waving it around. So that was how he’d planned to destroy a world.

Mechanical engineering had been his specialty for ages. It only made sense that he’d apply his knowledge to his quest for vengeance. Still. Mango couldn’t help but feel sick to his stomach. Looking at King, crown atop his head and staff in his grasp, was like looking at a twisted reflection. This was the monster he was destined to become.

“Yellow-” King began, but whatever he was about to say was cut off.

“I know, no Minecraft stuff on the main floor,” Her voice was hollow, devoid of all emotion, “I just used it to bring Sec’s temperature down. You can take it back to the basement now, I don’t care.”

King sighed, but acquiesced, silently taking the staff to the trap door hidden in the corner of the room. As he descended, Red called after him to ask for King to take their pig and check on the laundry they’d started beforehand. King grunted but agreed, calling the pig over with a whistle and tucking it under his arm so that he could descend. Leaving Mango to deal with the children and the terrorist.

By himself. Just great.

Tension as thick as fog flooded the room, leaving a silence only filled by the patter of rain against the window. Green and Blue and Red exchanged nervous glances between them, while Yellow’s eyes were only on the frail form in her arms. Gold, meanwhile, had taken the armchair, collapsing in to it with his head buried in his hands. Mango’s heart cracked at the sight, and he made swift strides to reach and take over the role of comforting him from Purple who was gingerly rubbing his back with something of a panicked expression. They seemed to grow even more nervous when Mango approached, but didn’t stop him from placing a hand on Gold’s shoulder to rub away some of the negativity eating at him. The Chosen One wasn’t immediately visible, but a short glance revealed them staring out the window in to the front lawn.

Silence reigned for what felt like an eternity, before creaking floorboards drew attention to Green, walking up to Yellow with clear apprehension. “Yel…?” He questioned softly, and when she didn’t respond he continued, “Hey, you alright?”

“…” She didn’t look up at him, but Yellow’s entire body immediately stiffened at the sound of his voice. “Am I… alright?” She asked, quiet but incredulous. Her volume rose louder, “Alright? Are you seriously asking me that?!” Her head snapped up, revealing tear-filled, bloodshot eyes glaring daggers at the three sticks in front of her, “One of my best friends just nearly died in my arms! Of course I’m not alright!”

“Yellie, I’m so sorry!” Blue pleaded, her own eyes becoming teary, “We shouldn’t have left you alone-”

Mango’s hand balled into a fist. He’d needed them. Their skills could have been crucial to saving Gold. That was the most important thing. He couldn’t risk leaving behind someone who could’ve had the skills he needed to protect his baby. He did the right thing. He did the right thing.

The couch-bound stick snarled, “You’re right! You shouldn’t have!” Her trembling arms gently pushed the stick lying atop her aside, and she stood up on her freshly healed ankle, “I told you something would happen! I warned you, and not ONE of you listened to me!” A fresh wave of tears began to fall from her face as she rambled on, approaching the group with waving hands, “Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?! And I had to do it all by myself! Not ONE of you thought ‘hey, maybe we shouldn’t leave the stick with the twisted ankle to deal with the sick one all by herself?’ No! You all ran off and abandoned us AGAIN!”

“Hey!” Green snapped back, “We never ABANDONED you guys! Last time we did everything we could to save you, and you know it!”

“So instead of making sure we’re alright after everything that happened, you just run off and leave us on our own!” Yellow all but screamed into Green’s face, “You said this stupid idea would fix everything, but instead you almost got Sec killed!”

“Come on, Yellie…” Blue pleaded, reaching out to her friend. “That isn’t fair-”

Her hand was slapped away, “Oh, fair?! You want to talk about fair?!” Yellow snarled at her recoiling friend, “Nothing about what I went through was fair! You knew how hard it would be to take care of Sec all by myself! You knew and you still just ran off and left us by ourselves! What if something else had gone wrong?! What if Sec had started throwing up or- or bleeding or something and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it?! And you!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Red, “You haven’t done ANYTHING to help ANYONE! The only useful thing you’ve done all day was get Reuben, and you only did that because you wanted to break King’s rules and take him outside! You-! You…!” Her eyes bulging in madness, Yellow shouted to the heavens, “You’re all TERRIBLE friends!”

Silence.

Tense and uneasy, the four sticks simply stared at each other in shock and fear and horror and anger. It was Blue who broke the silence; not with words, but with sudden, violent sobs. She cried into her hands, startling Red and Green to her side, though they didn’t stay that way for long. While Red moved to hold Blue, Green turned back to Yellow with gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Oh, that is it!” He yelled. As if prepared for a fight the two of them stepped forward, matching glare for glare

“Green-” Red tried to protest in the midst of propping Blue up. She’d all but fallen into him, her legs shaking as she struggled to stay standing. His pleas went unanswered as Yellow and Green stepped forth, both growling at each other like feral cats.

While he’d been stunned by the sudden outbreak of drama and yelling, the threat of an actual fight breaking out got Mango moving. He stepped between the two kids and shouted over them, “Hey! HEY!” They wouldn’t stop trying to get at each other, even through him, so he resorted to questionable tactics, “Your friend JUST used the last of their energy to heal you! Do you really want to waste all that effort by hurting each other AGAIN?!”

Dirty trick or not, his piercing question worked wonders, getting the two brats to back down. Green huffed and marched off, storming through the front door and out into the rain. The door slammed shut behind him, causing all present to jump.

Purple scurried past Mango. “Uhh, I’m gonna… go after him. Make sure he doesn’t get lost or anything. Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon,” They informed the others. Blue, still sobbing into her hands, seemed not to have heard them, but Red simply nodded in agreement. Purple spared a glance to Mango, silently asking permission, but all Mango could do was shrug. He wasn’t the kid’s dad, he wasn’t about to stop them.

(And besides, if he was being honest, some distance from them would do him wonders. Any time he looked directly at the little violet stick, the gears in his mind began to spin and his gut began to twist in on itself, and it’d be nice to be free from that. At least until things calmed down.)

Grabbing an umbrella from a storage closet, Purple gave one last cursory look back before running after Green, shouting for the other stick to wait up.

That had been a mess. When Mango had taken off, he hadn’t thought about what might happen in his absence… but, surely nobody expected him to be able to predict a disaster like this, right? What would he have been able to do to make it better?

(He didn’t even need all of them.)

“Are you okay?” Gold’s soft voice asked. When Mango spun around, he found his sunshine had joined in on comforting Blue, who wept on as if she hadn’t heard anything. His hand rubbed her shoulder, eyes crinkling with worry that Mango wanted nothing more than to squeeze out of his son’s face.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Red promised. He had tucked her head into his shoulder, letting himself be used as a pillow. Despite the sheen of exhaustion that had fallen over his face, he still wore a huge smile, “A lot’s happened today, I guess it’s finally getting to her. She just needs to let it all out and get some rest,” He cocked his head at Gold. “Uh, is there anywhere quiet we can take a bit of a break?”

Gold, ever the sweetheart, nodded as he pointed back towards the hallway. “You can go ahead and use my room for now.”

With a polite thank you, Red led the weeping mess of a stick away, leaving Gold behind to stare after them. After they disappeared behind the corner, Gold’s entire body slumped, and he trudged over to the now empty armchair before collapsing into it with his head buried in his hands. Mango’s heart fell. He’d never seen his child so… exhausted. Chased through hazardous old tunnels, nearly killed by a monstrous robot… he’d been through so much in such a short time.

He walked up to the boy and placed his hand on his shoulder. Nice and light, easy enough to shake off if Gold decided he didn’t want his father’s comfort. “Hey, hun,” He cooed softly. To his relief, Gold didn’t push him away. Instead he simply withdrew from his hands and stared up, all hints of his previous resentment hidden behind the fatigue. Offering an encouraging smile, Mango asked, “How are you holding up?”

The child’s brow furrowed. For a moment Mango thought he might have been rebuffed, but instead his boy glanced briefly in the direction of Yellow, who’d resumed her vigilant guard over the Second Coming. In silence, Gold gestured with his whole head in their direction. Mango nodded in turn. Message received. Instead, the two took to the ruined kitchen.

Once in relative privacy, Gold swept forth and embraced his father in a tight hug. Mango, caught off guard, stumbled a bit from the force, but instinct quickly took over and he wrapped his arms around Gold in turn. Warmth pooled in his heart. How could he have ever let this child go? All of the anger and fear and stress of the last few hours melted away as he relished in the soothing motions of his baby breathing against his chest.

“Dad?” Gold’s quiet voice pierced the serenity between them, no prefix of ‘King’ or ‘Mango’ or anything else. Just father and child. Gold’s eyes trailed up to meet his, and the warmth turned to empathetic heartbreak when he saw the tearful sheen they carried. He asked, “Is… is all this my fault?”

“Oh, honey, no…” Mango cooed softly, knelling next to his poor baby, cradling his face in one hand. Gold had grown so much, but he was still so, so small… “No, of course not. This was all…”

(My fault, I dragged them away, I scorned their concern, I wanted them to hurt and now they are…!)

“…just, a series of bad circumstances,” Mango settled on. “I won’t deny you made some mistakes today… we all did, I think,” Yeah, that was it. Mango had made a mistake. So had everyone else. It wasn’t just one person’s fault. It was a little bit of everybody’s. “But ultimately, things were heading to a breaking point even before you and Purple took off.” The blow-up would have happened eventually. The melting was inevitable. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t either of their faults. “Regardless of whether or not we’d been here, I don’t think it would’ve made much of a difference.”

Instead of a response, Gold buried his head in Mango’s shirt and sniffled softly.

They stayed like that for a while, Mango giving his child every ounce of comfort he could manage, holding him close and stroking his thick curls. Maybe a minute later, maybe two, Gold pulled away; not enough to escape his father’s hold, just enough to look up at him again. “I- I just feel so bad,” Gold confessed. He’d always been such a soft-hearted kid, naturally empathetic to the pain of others. That was a part of what made him such a ray of sunshine. “First I got Purple hurt, and then everyone was dragged away from Second because of me, too. And Yellow… I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.”

Horror and fear and anger, no doubt. Mango knew those feelings all too well. But the mention of Purple stirred something sour in Mango, something unwanted. He didn’t want to think about them now – or ever, really. He’d be happy if this churning feeling in his gut would just go away. In spite of that, he suddenly realized that they were alone – no Purple around, nor any of their oddly protective friends, nor that joke of a King. If he was going to get answers from Goldie, it would have to be now.

So, despite the voice inside him urging Mango to retreat and continue to simply enjoy Gold’s presence, he looked his child in the eye and forced a question out, “Goldie, I need the truth. What actually happened while you two were gone? Did you really force Purple to follow you into the woods?”

He needed to know. He needed the truth, even if the idea of it struck fear in his heart – for more reasons than he cared to admit.

For a moment, Gold hesitated. Then, timidly, he asked, “You won’t get mad?” When Mango nodded, he elaborated, “I mean at me or Purple.”

So the little brat had done something. Though he was lying through his teeth, Mango promised, “Of course I won’t. I just need you to be honest, honey.”

Another second of hesitation. And then… “Purple was going to head out by themselves,” Gold confessed. Before Mango could process that, he continued, “And I forced them to bring me along. I know, for whatever reason, you don’t like Purple, but they’re really nice! And smart! And… and we were only in those stupid tunnels because of me!” Gold broke away from Mango’s grip, leaving his hands feeling oddly cold despite the summer heat returning to the once icy house. Instead Gold began to pace anxiously, “I was being reckless, and fell into an open tunnel shaft! Purple had to jump in after me!”

Oh. That… hadn’t been what Mango had expected. Those tunnels were more than a kilometer down… if Gold had fallen with no sort of protection, then…

He’d almost lost his child. Terror struck as he realized Gold had almost died out there at least twice, and was only alive because of… because of Purple.

The nauseous feeling returned.

“And- and then, we ran into those smuggler guys, and we decided to investigate them because duh! But I was stupid about it and set off a bomb, and- and Purple shielded me and they burnt their back really bad, Dad, it was really bad!” Again Gold’s eyes began to well with tears. Mango reacted swiftly, pulling his child back into his hold, “They’ve been through so much, and you were so mean to them, I just wanted them to know that they had someone on their side, and- and instead I almost- almost got them killed!”

Fresh tears poured from Gold’s eyes. All Mango could do was hold his child tighter. “Honey, honey… it’s okay. Take slow, deep breaths… I’m here, I’m right here…” Shakily, Gold did his best to follow his father’s instructions, breathing in and out, in and out. Slow and gentle, until the tears stopped. Only then did Mango continue, “I’m so sorry, baby. You’ve been through so much, and I’ve been so stuck in my own head that I didn’t notice,” Learning his baby was about to die was as good an excuse as any, he supposed, but Mango let the swell of guilt run through him this time. “From now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make this easier on you.”

“Really?” Gold asked, voice husky from his previous bout of crying, “Then… can you do something for me?”

“Of course, anything. Whatever you need.” Mango reassured.

Gold took his hand, squeezing it gently, “Stop being mean to Purple.” Mango’s gut sank. “I don’t know why you don’t like them, but they’ve been nothing but nice to me. Even though us being here is causing a lot of problems.” Gold’s eyes darted to the living room, to the stick on the couch. Then his gaze returned to Mango. “I’ll forgive you for blowing up at Blue, and being mean yesterday, and everything… if you can at least be nice to Purple from now on. And maybe get to know them? They’re really cool! They have great taste in music, and they’re really clever!”

As Gold talked more and more about Purple, Mango could feel his teeth grind together. This was more than Gold’s naturally good-hearted nature at play. He had become genuinely endeared to Purple.

Mango swallowed his nerves. It wasn’t that he hated the kid or anything- now that the kidnapping thing had been cleared up, he didn’t really have anything against the kid. It was just- they were only- it was all King’s-

He sighed, a sudden weight pressing down on his shoulders. “I…” He interrupted, halting Gold’s speech about the supposed amazingness of Purple. When he was finally quiet, Mango continued, “Alright, I swear, I’ll leave Purple alone-”

“Not leave them alone,” Gold corrected firmly. “Be NICE to them. There’s a difference.”

“I promise, from now on, I’ll be nice to Purple.” He agreed.

Honestly, he mostly planned to avoid Purple as much as possible from now on. The kid made him… uncomfortable. They were his future self’s miserable attempt to mask the pain of losing his own child by replacing him with some random orphan. It wasn’t Purple’s fault, per se, but looking at them brought him back to the moment he found out, with his fist tingling from punching and their wide, terrified eyes staring up at him. It made him feel sick.

But it was GOLD asking. He couldn’t just say no. If his child really wanted this, then he didn’t have a choice.

As if in reward, Gold smiled wider and brighter than Mango had seen him since they’d come to this miserable future, holding out his arms and embracing Mango tightly yet again. This time there was no distress in his hug, no grief or fear. Only relief and love, and Mango tightened his hold to give it back tenfold.

His kid was the best.

“Okay!” All too soon Gold pulled away, pumping his fists in excitement as the terror of the day waned in favour of newfound resolve. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m gonna go check on the others!” In spite of everything, Mango could help but smile at his enthusiastic child. “Make sure they’re all okay!”

“Just…” Mango sighed, “Don’t leave the house, okay, honey?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Gold proclaimed, a hint of his previous exhaustion showing through. “I think I’m all adventured out for today.”

So was Mango, though he didn’t dare risk the fragile new peace by saying so aloud. It might come off as more… blame-shifty than Gold would care for. “Alright then. Good luck, sunshine.” And, for good measure, he rustled Gold’s hair one final time. His child giggled and batted his hand away, and for a brief moment, even as Gold retreated to the living room, it felt like things were finally, finally at least resembling normal.

“Well, that was exciting,” Spoke a smooth, soft voice from behind Mango. He spun around to find the Chosen One, having apparently left their vigil at the window, leaning against a piece of ruined wood that had once been a counter. “Almost makes missing my afternoon telenovelas worth it. Almost.”

Mango’s nose scrunched up so hard that he could actually feel an ache in the bridge. It was true that this stick had carried the lot of them here on a tree tucked underneath their arm like a newspaper. And yet… this was the Burner of Bandwidth? The most terrifying stick on the web? They looked like baby’s first Original Character, Do Not Steal. He had to know for sure.

“Are you actually the Chosen One?” He asked.

In response, the so-called Chosen One looked upward and stroked their chin in thought. “Hm, that’s a good question. But really, who are any of us? Is that something decided by birth, encoded into us with our very names? Or are we capable of defying destiny and taking control for ourselves? Are the circumstances of one’s birth truly what decides one’s path in life?”

Somehow Mango got the distinct feeling that he was being mocked.

“You’re just…” He frowned, stumbling to put his doubts into words, and eventually settled on, “Not what I expected from a terrorist that’s destroyed seven hundred websites.”

“Seven hundred?” They echoed. “Huh."

Mango gave him the side-eye. “What?”

“Ah,” As if catching themselves, the Chosen One suddenly stood up straight and shook their head. “Nothing important. I’m here to let you know that I’ll be staying in the vicinity until the Second Coming has completely recovered. I doubt they’ll need another energy boost, but in the case of an emergency it would be easier for me to be nearby rather than send someone else into the woods.”

Well… that was unexpected. “You want to stay… with us?” Mango repeated, just to be sure he was hearing that right.

“I could ask to stay with the people across the street,” Chosen One rebuffed. “But I have a feeling they wouldn’t be so kind about housing a wanted criminal.” They sighed, “Look, I get your reluctance. I don’t exactly have a great reputation. And really, I only have myself to blame for that.” Their hand drifted over their heart, squeezing their shirt as though to crush away whatever anxieties hid underneath. “But I have no other option. If the Second Coming loses control again, I might be the only hope of stopping whatever outbreak they cause.”

“Are they really that dangerous?” Mango asked, peering into the living room. Lying limp on the couch, utter exhaustion plain in every muscle, it was hard to imagine them as anything close to the threat the Chosen One was.

Of course, they’d also brought Mango and Gold forward into the future. Though quantum physics were hardly his forte, even Mango knew that such a feat should have been impossible. And yet, here he was.

“Come with me for a moment,” The Chosen One beckoned with their hand, and despite his better judgment Mango followed along. His mind was a tangled mess of various worries and thoughts and theories… for the most part he was running on auto-pilot. The two walked through the living room, to the very window Chosen One had been staring out just moments ago. A single finger pointed in lieu of any explanation. Mango followed it with his eyes through the haze of the gentle drizzle.

Across the street was that darned bush, the same one supposedly destroyed by the lasagna. He’d seen it in passing on his way out, but Mango hadn’t really gotten a good look at it until they’d flown above it not too long ago. Even then, he’d had more pressing concerns on his mind. But now the shriveled up hydrangeas were gone, replaced instead by a beautiful, healthy plant overflowing with multi-coloured flowers.

“I only gave the Second Coming a little bit of energy,” Chosen One’s voice cut through his observations like a piercing knife, “About the same amount I use to light a flame… just enough to take care of themselves. And instead they healed not only everyone in the room, but far beyond it as well.” When he looked back at them, Mango found the Chosen One’s eyes were glazed over as they became lost in thought. “And that was just a smidgeon of energy. You can imagine what potential they’d have at full power.”

Distressingly enough, Mango could. Easily. Their powers hadn’t seemed to be as conventionally destructive as the Chosen One’s, but proved to be dangerous in entirely different ways, what with summoning bizarre weather and healing and breaking space time, you know, as one does. Dangerous as the Chosen One was, it was best to have at least one person around that could counteract Second Coming’s powers if they lost control.

After all, hadn’t it been them losing control that had caused this whole mess?

“I get your point,” Mango noted, looking back over his shoulder at the unconscious stick with new trepidation. Yellow was still sitting there, staring down as though her friend would begin to die again the second she looked away. Thankfully Gold was keeping a little more distance, though that was mostly for Yellow’s sake. “You should… probably let King know.”

Chosen One quirked their brow in confusion. “I… just did?”

“I’m not King.” He proclaimed with barely concealed annoyance.

“But… you are, though,” They pointed out, as plainly as pointed out the sky was blue.

“Maybe he was once me,” Mango relented, “But he’s completely different from the person I am now. He’s a monster, who lashes out at anyone and uses a child to make himself feel better. All he cares about is himself.”

“...Right.” Chosen One’s voice now sounded more patronizing now, like they were talking to a small child. “Whatever you say. Mind showing me the way to him, then? I am… unfamiliar with this dwelling.”

Again, Mango got the distinct feeling he was being mocked in some way. Still he led the way to the mysterious trap door in the corner, the last layer of protection between his life as he knew it and that accursed game that those idiots brought into his house! The ladder was something of a nuisance – Mango would’ve preferred a proper staircase – but he supposed when it came to illegal basements, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The basement started with something of a messy hallway, littered with stones and pebbles. Further down the unfamiliar path the space opened up into a large corridor. The room hummed with the sounds of machines that couldn’t be seen, though if Mango had to guess he’d put them behind the farthest wall: behind the black stone arch at the very end of the room. Scattered around the room were various amenities; a little makeshift kitchen of Minecraft items, a gigantic pillow where the pig snoozed soundly, and on the opposite end, a pair of basins surrounded by unfamiliar machines. That was where King was, neatly folding the blankets and pillowcases that the younger sticks had been using just that moment, what felt like an eternity to go.

When King finally took notice of them, he raised his brow and asked, “Um, why are you down here? Did something else happen?” Grim dread crossed his face, “There haven’t been any more explosions, have there?”

“In a manner of speaking…” The Chosen One mused aloud.

Before they could get King worked up all over again, Mango spoke up, “There was a massive argument between our…” He fumbled for a word and eventually settled on, “guests. They’ve split up to cool down for now. Wait,” Mango cocked his head, “You couldn’t hear it? They were pretty loud.”

“This chamber is virtually soundproof,” King replied with a shake of his head. While he wasn’t as panicked as he could have been, there was notable distress present in his posture. “Is anybody hurt?”

“No. Just angry at each other.” Mango affirmed. King’s shoulder slumped with visible relief as he nodded. “Right now they’re all just trying to calm down. We’ve actually come down here to inform you that the Chosen One thought it would be wise to… stay for a little longer. Just until Second’s recovered.”

King’s nose scrunched up in an obnoxiously familiar way, but unlike Mango he didn’t hesitate. Only huffed in resignation. “I mean, I guess that’s fine? But we don’t have any more spare bedding for you.”

“Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, but unnecessary.” Chosen One stated with a surprisingly polite tone. Again, was this really the monster they’d all been afraid of for so long? “I can return to my home and get a spare pillow and blanket, provided you can keep the Second Coming from melting again while I’m gone.” They crossed their arms, and continued only when they received affirmation from King. “Very well. You also don’t need to concern yourself with reserving a spot for me inside the house. I’m perfectly fine sleeping on the roof.”

Mango blinked, dumbfounded. “On the what-”

“Isn’t it still raining?” King asked, brushing off Mango’s confusion, “I can’t imagine that the roof would be dry by tonight.”

The Chosen One simply responded. “It will be.”

“….Oooookay, then…” Obviously deciding it wasn’t worth the fight, King just nodded along to the Chosen One’s… plan. “Well, if you want to come inside, you can crash in the basement, I guess. Just.. no attacking anyone. Or setting fires indoors. I like this house, I’d rather keep it.”

“Hmm…” They stroked their chin, almost as if making a joke of setting a house full of young sticks, including his child, on fire. “I suppose I can refrain for now. Don’t want to lose the element of surprise, after all.”

Mango cringed away, unsettled. King, however, only seemed annoyed at the thinly veiled threat. “Uh huh,” He acknowledged. “Well, be safe flying in this rain, then.”

“Oh,” The Chosen One blinked, as if not having expected to be sent off so… politely. “Thank you.” They shifted their gaze to the side, suddenly looking bashful, of all things. Mango felt stunned. The Chosen One. Bashful! It seemed the emotional roller coaster of the day wasn’t quite over. “I should be back shortly. Without half a dozen sticks to carry, it should be a quick trip.”

They departed, walking backwards with their eyes on the two versions of Mango. Never did their eyes shift away from them, not even when they were climbing up the ladder… that they could easily fly up.

“Is this really going to be okay?” Mango asked aloud. “I mean, they’re not what I expected, but they’re still… you know… The Chosen One.”

King returned to his laundry. “I’m not terribly concerned. If need be we have…” His eyes flickered to a nearby table, where the staff laid, and he subtly grimaced, “Options. Though hopefully it won’t come to that.” An awkward silence rang between them for all of thirty seconds before King patted the basket before him. “Why don’t you help me finish the laundry? It’d be a good time to chat.”

Mango bit back a groan. Well, time to get that lecture over with.

--------------------

Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

The sounds of rain echoing against the window were the only thing that kept the silence at bay as Gold returned to the living room, bucket of water in hand and a cloth hanging off his shoulder. When he’d asked Yellow if there was anything he could do to help the other stick, he’d expected to be blown off, or blown up at like the others. Instead Yellow had numbly asked for Gold to retrieve some water and a cloth. Though confused, Gold had complied, immediately heading towards the bathroom to retrieve the requested items.

He could still hear Blue sobbing on the other side of his own bedroom door, and it had taken everything in Gold not to join Red in providing her comfort. One thing at a time. For now, Gold had to help Yellow. Somebody had to.

“I’ve got the stuff you wanted,” He reported as he set the bucket on the dining table, then dropped the cloth upon it. His words went unacknowledged. “Yellow?” Gold called.

Hearing her name made Yellow flinch, but she finally looked over. “Oh, yeah,” She muttered, “Thank you.” Without a further word she took the cloth in her hand and dipped it into the bucket. Lukewarm water dripped from the over-encumbered cloth. Yellow wrung the excess liquid from it, before turning back to Second.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he peered over his shoulder.

“Making sure Second is clean,” She replied, not looking back at Gold. The cloth clutched tightly in her hand, she brought it to their face and began to gently dab at it. “They’re all healed now, but I doubt their powers did anything about the sweat and grime. I don’t want them to feel all gross when they wake up.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence reigned between them as Yellow continued to clean Second’s exposed skin. If Gold was being honest, she didn’t look much better than them; her skin was pale and clammy from who knows how long spent huddled up in the Minecraft snow, and dark shadows had appeared under her dull eyes. Each stroke of the cloth along Second’s skin was met with shaky hesitance, her eyes darting to the cloth as if expecting to pull away bits of her friend along with the grime.

Gold watched all of this with a sinking feeling in his gut. Dad – Mango Dad – had said that this wasn’t his fault. That everyone had messed up some today, that things just fell together in a bad way. But something in Gold couldn’t quite believe that. Not when looking at Yellow’s face, haggard and lifeless with empty, glassy eyes. Before, when Yellow had blown up at her friends, she’d looked so much like Mango Dad when he’d attacked King Dad just yesterday (yesterday? It felt like it’d been so much longer than that…) So angry, but then she’d burned out so quickly, leaving a soulless shell to take care of poor Second.

“I’m sorry.” Blurted out Gold before he could register anything beyond that need to apologize for everything.

Not even turning to Gold, Yellow sighed with the weight of the world on her breath. “You really want to do this right now?” She asked.

“Um,” Gold’s eyes flickered around, his fumbling mind scrambling to put his thoughts to words. “No time like the present?”

Every muscle in Yellow’s body slumped, what little energy she had left draining out of her. At last she turned to Gold, her dull eyes staring through Gold rather than at him. “Look,” She grumbled, voice barely louder than the distant sound of raindrops against the rooftop, “I’m… annoyed at you and Purple. You guys were stupid, and you could’ve gotten yourselves killed when King was perfectly capable of handling himself.”

Gold opened his mouth to issue another apology, only for Yellow to beat him to the punch.

“But I’m not mad at you,” She revealed, bitterness seeping back into her tone, “You and Purple just did what anyone would’ve done: You tried to protect the people who matter most to you. And that’s what they should’ve done.” Her hands tightened around the cloth she still held. “But when we actually needed them, they all just… took off. Without a second thought. And, like, I get sending one of them. Maybe even two. But why did all of them have to go? Why did they leave us the first chance they got?”

In those last two questions, all of the anger had faded away, leaving behind nothing but hurt and fear. Gold’s chest tightened as he watched her fallen expression. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how to answer that question, and so he did the only thing he could think of; he gave his honest opinion, “Well, I’m not them, so I can’t really tell you. But you’re right, it wasn’t fair. And I’m so sorry that you went through all of that on your own.” Yellow sniffled a little. “I can’t imagine what I’d do in your shoes.”

“It’s just…” Tears began to well in her eyes as her hands began to shake, “I… I was so scared… I was all alone, and Second was deteriorating so fast, and I didn’t know what to do…” Her eyes squeezed shut, a last ditch attempt to stop herself from crying, but when Gold placed his hand over hers the dam finally broke. She started sobbing, terrified and desperate. Gold could do nothing but comfort her, rubbing soothing circles on her back and stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

For some time they just stayed like that, Gold comforting Yellow while she cried into her hands. As if Mother Nature herself was sympathizing with her, the rain intensified with her sobs, and began to let up as her tears began to ease. By the time Yellow had fully calmed down, the rain outside had stopped completely. When Gold offered her a tissue, she took it and first wiped her eyes before cleaning the remaining snot out of her nose and off of her face.

“You feeling okay now?” Gold asked as she tried to put herself back together.

With a sniffle, Yellow nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good… thanks.” The tissue disappeared into some inventory Yellow had. Once it was gone, she brushed her hair back behind her ears and tried to compose herself. “Sorry to kind of… get emotional on you like that. I promise I’m not usually this much of a mess.”

“It’s cool,” He reassured the other brightly. Some light had returned to her eyes, and to Gold, that had made the entire thing worth it. “I’m just happy I could help.”

She smiled, and it was weak and fragile, but genuinely cheerful. It soon faded, though, as Yellow’s mind drifted. “I’m still mad at the others,” She confessed, “But I… I didn’t mean to make Bluey cry like that.” Yellow sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes. “And Green was already upset about everything… ugh, I probably just made things harder on everyone. They probably hate me now...”

“Uh, they probably don’t,” Gold rebuffed. Like before, he didn’t know them well enough to say for certain. But he knew what he would think if he’d been on the receiving end of Yellow’s wrath. “I mean, I’m sure they’re not feeling the greatest right now. But if I were them? I think I’d be more upset about you and Second being hurt than about you yelling like that.”

“Maybe…” She conceded, sounding no less defeated.

“Tell you what,” Gold hopped up, smiling as he offered his hand to the downcast Yellow, “Why don’t we go talk to them? Maybe they’re mad too, but we can’t know until we ask, right? And if they are, we can just talk it all out and forgive each other.”

Like Gold had with his father. Granted, only time would tell if Mango Dad would follow through, but if he could, then they’d all be happy. Him, Purple… even King Dad, perhaps.

But that was an issue for another day. Right now, Gold had to solve what he could.

Yellow hesitated. Her hands nervously wrung the cloth still clutched within them. “I…” Her eyes kept darting to Second, making the reason for her hesitation obvious. “I can’t just leave Sec like this…”

“It’ll be okay,” Gold promised, “We’ll just be a few minutes, and then we’ll be right back.” Still, she looked anxious. Gold hummed and stroked his chin. His eyes darted over to the trap door, and a light bulb lit up over his head. “Oh, idea!”

He raced to the door, assuring a confused Yellow that he’d only be a minute, hesitating for only a moment before quickly stomping on it to force it open. An equally pixelated ladder from some game appeared beneath him. He swallowed his nerves back and placed a hand on the wooden item. It didn’t feel any different from real wood. If Gold shut his eyes, he wouldn’t know the difference. So he did. Shut his eyes, that was, as he slid down the ladder. Only when his feet touched the floor of the basement did he open them again, to the view of very normal stone.

Okay. He could handle going downstairs. If he closed his eyes, it was just a normal ladder, no problem. Sighing in relief, Gold called out, “Hey, Dad?”

Not even ten seconds later, both versions of his dad appeared; King and Mango, sticking their heads out from behind the corner with something like panic on their faces. The expressions matched nearly perfectly, except for the clear exhaustion that King carried like an old suitcase. The two calmed down in quick stages, going from frightened, to confused, to analytical, to finally questioning as they registered that there was no immediate threat.

After giving them a moment to calm down, Gold loudly shouted, “Can one of you come up and watch Second for us? Just for a minute or so!”

“Can King do it?” Yellow called down tiredly.

“Uh, Yellow wants King Dad to do it!”

The two versions of Dad exchanged glances. In just a second the pair seemed to have a full conversation, because King swiftly called over, “Okay! I’m coming up!” He then turned to Mango, “Finish up the cleaning, will you? And think a bit about what we talked about.”

“Hmph,” Mango Dad scowled. Oh, no. Please don’t let him be causing any more problems. All Gold had asked for was for him to be nice to Purple, sure, but they didn’t need the added stress of yet another Dad fight. Thankfully, one look at Gold’s face was all Mango needed to back down. He sighed, his expression lightening, “Alright, fine. I’ll finish up down here.”

With that sorted out, King Dad scaled the ladder with the ease and speed of someone who likely did this every day. Gold closed his eyes and followed suit. It was just like the ladder at the gym. Nothing special about it, really. Once they were topside again,Yellow waved at him as he climbed up and joined Yellow at the couch.

“I’ll keep an eye on Second, don’t worry,” King Dad assured Yellow. He glanced around briefly. “Is Purple in their room?”

“They took Green outside to cool off,” Gold informed him.

King Dad’s brow furrowed. “Just the two of them? All by themselves? After everything?” He took a few steps towards the door, new anxiety crawling on his face. “How long have they been out?”

“Not too long,” Yellow commented. She’d plopped the cloth back into the bucket at some point, and was leaning back next to Second on the couch. “Maybe ten minutes? Maybe twenty?”

“Purple promised they’d be back soon,” Gold reiterated, a knot tightening in his stomach. “Just… trust them, will you? They wouldn’t do anything stupid after everything that happened.”

“Well…” King Dad hummed as he mused, looking conflicted. “Purple knows the area pretty well by now. If they’re not back in another half hour, I’ll go get them.”

That was incredibly relieving to hear. Honestly, Gold had half-expected another explosion, another storm out into the world with everyone in the house capable of walking to find Purple and drag them home. Another incident that might have pushed everyone past their breaking point.

“Just take care of Second for me.” Yellow requested, and when King Dad agreed, Yellow finally allowed Gold to drag her away from the couch. Her heart remained with her ill friend; Gold could see that in the way her eyes kept darting backwards towards the couch. But she followed Gold anyways. The two arrived outside Gold’s door in under a minute. No longer could he hear the sounds of crying, which was a huge relief. Yellow raised her hand to knock, then hesitated for a long moment. She looked back at Gold, and when Gold gave her a firm nod and a thumbs up, she steadied her breath. And knocked.

“Come in,” Red called. Yellow swallowed audibly as the she twisted the doorknob. Gold’s bedroom door creaked open with a loud, prolonged squeak.

Blue and Red were both sat on Gold’s bed, Blue curled into Red. At first glance it appeared as though she was sound asleep in her friend’s arms, but when Gold and Yellow walked in she lifted her head to follow the noise. Their eyes met across the gulf between them, and then there was silence. Nothing but loud, ringing silence.

It was Blue, to Gold’s surprise, who broke the quiet, breaking away from Red to sit up straight and look Yellow in the eye. “Hey, Yellie,” She greeted with a pained smile, “Are you feeling better?”

“I…” The lack of hostility seemed to surprise Yellow, but she quickly nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay now.” With no small amount of hesitance, she shuffled forward a few steps. “How about you? Are you alright?”

Blue’s smile turned a bit more cheerful. “I’m fine, really. Sorry to go all blubber mode on you. Guess I’ve been more stressed than I thought.” As if to emphasize her point, Blue reached up and rubbed the last of her tears out of her swollen, red eyes. Gold felt like he was kicked in the gut yet again, but bit back his instinctual apology to instead stand back and watch.

As if to further bridge the gap between them, Blue stood, making a tentative step forward. She offered her hand, a silent declaration of forgiveness, and without any hesitation Yellow swept in to take it, pulling Blue in for a close, tight hug. Upon feeling Blue’s arms around her as well, Yellow exhaled deeply, releasing all the weight that had built up on her shoulders in a single, heavy breath. No more tears were shed. The two friends just drunk in each other’s presence, relieved of their burdens by carrying them together.

With that, the knot inside of Gold’s stomach finally loosened, allowing him to share in their relief.

“Sorry I made you cry, Bluey,” Yellow spoke when they separated at last.

Blue only laughed off the unnecessary apology, “It’s fine, you’re fine.” Her mirth faded and her smile fell, “Well, no, you’re not fine. You had to save Second all by yourself. That must have been so scary.” Yellow didn’t respond to that. Blue took her hands in her own, keeping her eyes on Yellow even as Yellow herself couldn’t lift hers off the ground. “I went with Green and Red because I was worried one of them would get hurt if I wasn’t there. I didn’t want to risk losing either of them, and I thought you and Sec would be safe here – if I thought for a second that they’d get that bad, I wouldn’t have left, I swear.”

“I know,” Yellow whispered, finally bringing her eyes up to meet Blue’s, “Heh, you’ve never been one to think things through, have ya?”

She ended with a poke to Blue’s nose, who complained with a light giggle, “Yellie!”

The two girls laughed in harmony. Behind them, arms crossed and expression blank, Red remained seated. He exhaled softly, and that was enough to get Yellow’s attention. She immediately released Blue’s hands, walking around them to meet Red eye to eye.

“Red,” She began, her hand awkwardly outstretched as if to take his own. She then covered the movement by folding her arms. “Listen, I… I’m sorry. What I said was really out of line… you were being useful. You’re always useful. I shouldn’t have said that, I just wanted to make you feel as bad as I did.” She wrung her hands and hung her head, awaiting Red’s response.

Not once did Red’s expression change as he stood up, facing Yellow in complete silence. He approached her in long, purposeful strides, stopping only an inch in front of her. Gold cringed as he raised his hand. Wait, was he really going to start yet another fight?!

Instead, Red flicked Yellow’s forehead fairly hard, and stuck his tongue out at her when she looked up at him.

“Pfft,” The mask cracked, and a funny smile lit up Red’s face, “Geez, you don’t gotta sound so serious. It’s far from the worst thing you’ve said to me.” He slung an arm around Yellow’s shoulder, and her face lit up again. “Besides, with Sec out of commission, somebody’s gotta be the irrationally angry one.” He beckoned blue over and she complied, sandwiching Yellow between them. “I guess you’d be the best one for the job, huh?”

“First of all, rude,” Yellow huffed with no real fire behind it. Her tone then got serious as she continued, “Secondly, I’m not irrationally angry. I think I actually have a very good reason to be mad at everyone.”

“Oh, I know,” Red drooped a little at the reminder, but quickly bounced back, “But you still love me, right?”

Yellow rolled her eyes. “Yes, Red. I still love you. Even if I’m mad.”

Hearing that brought Red’s grin out full-force. He pushed his head into the crevice of Yellow’s neck and nuzzled into it like a cat, and Yellow went along with his silliness, petting his head with long, gentle strokes.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry I wasn’t there with you,” Red’s words were whispered, as if conveying a secret to his dear friends. “I’ve never seen Sec look so… weak before. It was scary.”

“It was.” Yellow agreed.

“And I hate that I wasn’t there to help,” Blue added on, “We were all so worried when Sec came back to us, but when push came to shove, we left you by yourselves.” Blue averted her eyes briefly, making the pit in Gold’s stomach reappear. “Again.”

“Well, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” Yellow muttered, and though she didn’t name names, Gold could feel a shiver go down his back. “Remember that incident with the Lucky Block?” Though none of them responded verbally, Blue and Red’s synchronized winces made their answers obvious, “Green told me something after all of it, when I was feeling down. He said, ‘We can only do the best with the knowledge we have.’ You should have stayed, but you couldn’t have prevented Sec from melting, only helped with the aftermath…” Her eyes suddenly fell to the ground, “Green…”

“Is he still out?” Blue asked.

“Yeah, he hasn’t come back yet.” Yellow’s eyes darted briefly towards the window, then back to the floor, “Heh, I really made him mad, huh?”

A brief sadness crossed Red’s eyes, so quick that Gold almost missed it. Then he swiftly shifted back to playful, poking Yellow’s cheeks to the point where she winced away from him. “Ah, you’re worrying too much.” He scolded. “Green can’t stay mad at you! He loves you too much! Why else would he sit through those hours and hours of Asteroid playthroughs for you?”

“But he likes watching me play Asteroid…” Yellow argued weakly. She didn’t seem all that confident in her rebuttal.

“Nobody likes watching someone else play Asteroid,” Red stated firmly.

Gold finally allowed himself to pipe up, feeling, for once, that he could finally contribute to the conversation. “When I have a fight with one of my friends,” All three sets of eyes were on Gold, and though that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he kept going confidently, “I make them a card or something to really let them know I’m sorry. Dad says putting in a little effort helps them see the apology is sincere.”

“That’s a great idea!” Red agreed, jumping for joy.

“Sure,” Yellow agreed, but she looked far less certain than her friend, “But I’m no Second. My drawing skills aren’t exactly up to snuff, and I don’t want to give our resident sculptor something substandard.”

“It doesn’t have to be a card, though,” Blue chimed in. “Green really likes spicy food – how about I help you whip up some Mexican cuisine? We haven’t had much chance to make it recently since we’re still polishing off those many, many…manycakes.” Two glares were directed at Red, who whistled innocently, much to Gold’s bafflement. After a long pause, Blue’s attention returned to Yellow. “I bet he’d love it.”

“Heh,” A sheepish, vulnerable glean shone in Yellow’s eyes as she smiled softly, “You think so?”

“For sure!” Red encouraged, already herding everyone towards the door. Including Gold, to his brief surprise. “Come on! Let’s get cooking!”

--------------------

“Green!” Called the familiar voice of Purple behind him. “Green, wait up!”

The emerald stick huffed as he continued walking away, ignoring his violet stalker following behind with loud footsteps and splashes of freshly formed puddles on the ground. He had half a mind to spin around and yell at Purple, scream at them to go home and leave Green alone. But his body wouldn’t listen; any attempt to turn around made his breath hitch and his muscles stiffen. The only way Green could move was forward, so that’s what he did.

Just keep moving. Don’t look back at the people he disappointed. The friends he’d hurt. The family his irresponsibility had nearly destroyed.

Soft rain fell from the sky and began to soak through Green’s clothing. He could already feel it seeping through his shoes and dampening his socks. Though the humidity had dropped since the rain had started, an unpleasant warmth still clung to Green’s skin. The only comfort Green was afforded was that, thanks to Second, the persistent headache and fogginess from his head wound had finally, finally faded.

If he was being honest, Green didn’t deserve that relief.

“Hey!” Purple continued to call. They were getting closer. In response, Green upped his own pace, until he was only a notch down from running. Still, Purple persisted. “C’mon, man! At least take an umbrella! You’re soaked!” When that failed to get any response, Purple pressed further. “You’re going to get sick, man! And after Sec just healed you! If you get yourself sick, Sec’s gonna feel so bad. I can already imagine them wondering why their power wasn’t enough to protect you…”

Green halted in his tracks, a knot forming in his stomach. “You’re such a jerk.” He snipped, but allowed Purple to catch up and shelter him with their umbrella. Ugh, and they had that face. That smug, satisfied expression that clearly stated that they won.

Tch. Whatever. It wasn’t worth the effort to complain.

Instead Green crossed his arms and continued walking forward, the pitter pattering of the rain above his head. Purple matched his slower speed with ease, keeping him covered. “Listen, dude, what Yellow said…” They hesitated, obviously puzzling over the right thing to say. “She was wrong. I get that she was upset, but she had no right to yell at you all. And her making Blue cry like that was inexcusable, I get why you’re so mad-”

No, though it made Green’s gut coil that it wasn’t about Blue’s broken sobbing. If it was, maybe it wouldn’t be such a problem. “I’m not mad about Yellow going off on us.” He interrupted, halting without warning. Purple almost overtook him. Their eyes met, confusion and concern bearing into Green’s brain. It was nearly too much. He broke their gaze as he softly revealed, “I’m mad because she’s right. I’m a terrible friend.”

He managed to catch a glimpse of Purple’s eyes widening in shock before Green forcefully turned away, bracing himself on a nearby wooden fence. The wood was old and worn; Green could almost hear Yellow scolding him about splinters and infections and being more careful. And Sec would be right there with her, threatening to break his hands if he got himself hurt. But they probably wouldn’t. Probably. Depending on their mood. The thought made Green want to laugh. Instead, he bit back a sob.

“What do you mean?” Purple asked. The fence creaked and groaned, shifting as the burden of Purple’s weight was added to Green’s.

Biting his lip, Green turned away from Purple’s attempts to get him to look at them. It felt strange to tell this story without the others, or at least Sec. Technically it was Sec’s story, after all. But with all the trouble they’d caused Purple and their old man the last two days, the truth was the least Green owed them.

“There’s… something we’ve been keeping from you.” He admitted.

“Yeah, I figured,” Purple revealed quite casually. “You guys are great at a lot of things, but you suck at subtlety.”

So they’d caught on. Green wished he could say he was surprised, but nope. Not at all. “A lot’s happened in the past few weeks.” He kept his eyes on the expanse around them, the vast field of grass that spanned the distance between them and the forest. “…Not too long ago, Second was kidnapped. Then Yellow, too.”

Purple gasped. “What…?”

“It happened so suddenly…” It was like Green had been transported back to that day… everything was so normal, just play fighting between themselves and Alan like normal. Then that dreaded whooshing of the WiFi portal opening, the Chosen One falling through it, covered in glitches and gasping in pain. That had been where the trouble really began. “Chosen appeared out of nowhere and dragged Sec into this crazy fight with these…” Villains, monsters, how could you do that to our friends, how DARE you hurt them…?! “Criminals, I guess? Some shady organization like you see in spy movies. By the time we caught up with them, they were carrying Chosen and Sec away on these flying vehicles…”

Just recalling that day made Green’s hands shivered. In a poor attempt to cover it, he tightened his hands on the wooden fence, feeling the wood dig into his skin. The sensation was unpleasant, but grounding. It helped him stay focused on the task at hand.

“Of course we chased after them, but… they got us first. And then they took Yellow, too.” Green let a single sniffle get through. Purple reached over and patted their arm, but didn’t interrupt. “We did eventually manage to find them…” After days that had stretched like years, after worry eating him and Red and Blue alive as they fought to follow their friends into hell. “And that’s when we found out Sec had superpowers! They saved us all! And they were incredible!”

A huge smile crossed Green’s face at the memory. But it faded quickly.

“But when we got back… Sec wasn’t the same. They never wanted to fight with us anymore, or play games like they used to. Yellow had it rough for a while too, but she’s been getting better. Sec… hasn’t. At first I thought they were just scared because of… some stuff they were put through.” That was one thing Green couldn’t reveal. It wouldn’t be fair to Sec or Yel for Green to just spill their trauma. “But then I noticed that they’d be super careful when touching us, or how they’d only practice using their powers when we aren’t around. And I realized…”

Purple finished his thought for him, “Second’s scared of their powers.”

Green nodded in agreement. “Yeah. That’s why I made everyone visit yesterday, and pushed Second into showing off. I thought maybe if Sec saw you and King get excited over what they could do, they’d realize their powers aren’t scary, they’re cool! Just like Sec is!” Shame made Green duck his head. “And all I did was make it worse. Yellow was right. I’m a terrible friend.”

He ruined everything. After all that nonsense he’d spewed about being there and protecting them, he’d let Sec down again. Despair pulled Green down to the mud where he belonged. It stained his pants, but Green didn’t care, simply slumping down next to the fence.

Not too much time passed before Green heard Purple shift and slide down next to him. They hummed inquisitively before breaking the silence. “Yeah, you’re right.” They agreed. “You’re the worst.”

That one remark broke through Green’s wall of self-pity, causing him to wrinkle his nose and look up at Purple. They had that smile on their face, the same one from their days as a trickster king, and its presence only served to baffle Green further. Were they… making fun of him? “Gee, thanks.” He muttered under his breath.

Unphased, Purple pressed themselves against Green’s side, waving their hand dramatically. “Like, that one time when you chased me while I was having a breakdown and talked me down? Absolutely terrible.”

What?Green’s brown furrowed as he turned his attention fully to Purple. “That was-”

“OR when you threw that concert? You could’ve just blamed everything bad that happened on your friends and gotten off scott-free, but nooo! You had to be a lame-o and decide you all made mistakes and that it was nobody’s fault but the silverfish!” Purple tittered sarcastically, “Boring~! Or how about that time when-”

“Alright, geez!” Green interrupted, beginning to feel lighter despite himself. “I get it.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Purple tapped their chin as if lost in thought, like the liar they were, “I can think of a ton more examples.”

Green jabbed Purple with his elbow as a not so subtle ‘shut up.’ In lieu of a proper response, Purple cackled maniacally. Only when they calmed down some did Green give them their due. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Well, somebody’s gotta be the sane one around here.” Purple shrugged dramatically. “Can’t always be you, I guess.”

Comfortable silence stretched between them; a pleasant reprieve from the bucket of trauma Green had just dumped on his friend. Even the rain had stopped, leaving the air ripe with the fresh scent of grass and petricor. Purple picked themselves up first. They’d knelt down while remaining on their tiptoes, sparing their shorts the same muddy fate that Green’s pants were now suffering. The dampness Green felt as he followed Purple’s lead was unpleasant, but not too bothersome. Washing them tonight would be a nuisance, but that was a future Green problem.

Future Green was a jerk. He probably deserved it.

“So, what are you going to do about Yellow?” Purple asked as the two resumed leaning against the wooden fence.

Honestly, Green wasn’t entirely sure yet. “Well, apologize, for one,” He said as he pondered his next actions. Clashes of will between himself and Yellow were as common as Sec’s mid-day naps, so it wasn’t unfamiliar territory. This may have been the worst it had ever gotten, though. “Then maybe give her space? Good friend or not, I really screwed up on this one, Purple.”

“Why’d you leave, then?” They asked. “After what you just told me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never left Sec’s side again.”

A single snort escaped Green’s lips before he could stop it. “Yeah, you’d think, wouldn’t you?” That’s what he should have done. What Sec and Yellow needed him to do. “But after Mango discovered you and Gold were gone… he was so scared. So angry. And I felt like… like I had to make it right.”

That was the short of it. Green could still hear those words echoing in his head. And if something bad happens to them, it’ll be on YOU for letting them go. If he’d been thinking, he’d at least have made Blue stay behind for Yellow. But his head had been spinning all day, and all that ran through his head was the thought of someone else he cared about getting hurt because of Green. So, instead of thinking, he’d charged into the fray and left Yellow to handle their ill best friend all by herself.

Tch. Just another bad decision in the string of them that had stemmed from Green’s decision to show off Sec’s powers.

“Sorry, man,” Purple winced as they delivered the apology. “I… didn’t think we’d be causing you so much trouble.”

Maybe Green should’ve been mad at Purple, but honestly? “You did what any of us would’ve done,” He consoled, “I can’t blame you for that. Looking back, I’m more mad at myself for not standing up to Mango.” Green shook his head. “He says he’s nothing like King? If you ask me, he’s exactly like the King we first met.”

“Yeah,” Purple agreed sourly, “He certainly is.” They looked up, and their eyes widened. “Hey, look at that…”

Green followed their gaze, and his breath hitched.

He’d… never seen a rainbow like this before. Sure, Sec could draw landscapes like this, and they were always beautiful, but always exactly what was expected. The only environments that carried any surprises were the ones from Minecraft, and they were nothing like what was before him now.

Maybe this place wasn’t all that bad.

“We’ve been out here a while,” Purple realized aloud as they inspected the horizon. “Ready to head back?”

Back to Second, who’d nearly died for the nth time since their kidnapping because Green abandoned them. Back to Yellow, who Green didn’t even have a clue how he’d apologize to yet. Back to Mango and King and Gold and the fights and the drama…

“Can we stay here for a little longer?” He asked, staring ahead at the arch of serenity in the distance. “We don’t get sights like this on the PC, you know? I’d like to take it in for a bit more.”

“…Sure,” Purple agreed, leaning next to Green on the fence. “Just for a few more minutes.”

--------------------

The fighting had given way to a tense sort of peace and quiet; the aftermath of a storm, where everyone was silently taking in the destruction. For the most part, King and Second had remained uninterrupted in the living room, with nothing but the distant sounds of creaking as others moving around the house. There had been a brief exception when the kids had torn through with hurricane speeds, calling back something about dinner before disappearing down into the basement. One last unnecessary surge of excitement before the anxious stillness closed in around King once again.

It was then, in the midst of silence, that the Chosen One reappeared.

King’s ears twitched as the sound of a sliding window broke the silence. He spun around to find the Chosen One standing there, nonchalantly carrying an armful of blankets as if they hadn’t just crawled in through the windows like a common criminal. They didn’t even dignify him with a proper explanation, instead nodding in greeting and sorting through the apparently random collection of blankets and pillows he’d brought all this way.

Well, King mused, at least they had more spares now. “You know the front door was unlocked, right?” He asked in lieu of a friendlier greeting.

Chosen One’s head spun around towards the door. “Oh,” They replied, then turned their attention back to King, “Did you want me to lock it for you?”

How could they have missed his point that badly? King watched them for a moment, bemused, before speaking up. “Er, no. We’re still waiting for Green and Purple to come back – did you see them on your way here, by any chance?”

“Which ones are those?” Chosen One asked.

Astonished, King stared incredulously at them for a few stunned moments before unnecessarily clarifying. “The green one and the purple one.”

“Oh, them. Yes, I saw them.” Chosen One revealed. King felt relief wash over him. “They were just hanging around and speaking a few blocks from here.”

The sense of relief that suddenly washed over King was indescribable. Purple and Green’s sudden departure had left him stressed and anxious; after everything that had happened today, how could it not? But Purple was a clever kid most of the time. They’d keep themselves and Green out of trouble. All he could do was trust them.

It was hard, but King had to have faith. The alternative was becoming a controlling monster, and King couldn’t do that to Purple. Not again.

“Good, that’s good,” He stated calmly, trying not to let on how much of a consolation that was to hear. Chosen One’s resting bitch face made it difficult to tell whether or not he’d succeeded. Another silence echoed in the chasm between them, and King became acutely aware that the two of them were alone. There was no one around to overhear. As Chosen One sorted through their blankets, King exhaled and tried to remain casual. “So… The Dark Lord.”

He could see the Chosen One freeze up in surprise. Then they deflated, head bowed in resignation. “I suppose I should have expected this at some point. Very well, I shall answer any questions you have.”

There was only one question King truly needed an answer for, and that was the question he asked first. “Is he a threat to my kids?” He asked.

“No.” Their answer was immediate and confident, which lifted a weight off King’s shoulders. “He… isn’t a threat to anybody anymore.”

Okay. That was all good to know. More questions burned at the tip of King’s tongue. Unlike Second, however, King didn’t feel any reservations about asking, except that Chosen One might be dishonest with him. But that wasn’t enough to stop him. “How did he end up like that?”

“Did the Second Coming not tell you?” They asked, then caught themselves. “No, of course not. I’m not sure they even fully remember it.” When they looked up to see King’s singular raised eyebrow, Chosen One elaborated. “They did it. They blasted the Dark Lord with a powerful eye laser that-”

“I’d guessed that.” King interrupted. He was far from stupid, and had connected the dots between the Second Coming’s flowing green electrically based powers and the scars that had covered the Dark Lord almost immediately. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to know. “I’m more curious about the events leading up to the attack.” Because if the Second Coming had lost control before and had gone along with showing off despite the known danger, then that would be an… issue.

Chosen One hesitated, gnawing their lower lip as they mindlessly folded the blankets in front of them. “It was entirely the Dark Lord’s own fault. He attacked those friends of theirs. Nearly killed them… No. Actually killed them.” King reeled back in shock. Killed? The Dark Lord had… “The Second Coming brought the four of them back, using their healing power and the data that had lingered after their passing. But before that, they took quite the beating from the Dark Lord. That was likely what triggered them using their powers for the first time.”

“You said they don’t remember it,” King recalled.

With a nod, the Chosen One explained further, “I don’t know why… perhaps because of how severely the Dark Lord had hurt them? But they don’t remember anything beyond getting stabbed by him the second time.” Stabbed? King’s heart jolted in his chest. Those kids were Purple’s friends… and they’d all been hurt so badly… did Purple know? “I couldn’t tell you. But when they fought back, it was more or less a one-sided beatdown. They’re so much more powerful than him…”

“And that put him in a coma…” King concluded.

“Right,” Chosen agreed. “I found him a little after the others left. He was near death, and completely helpless… Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I brought him home. Treated his wounds, put him to bed. Stole medical supplies to take care of him.” They stared off into the distance, entirely lost in their own memories. “It’s been some time… but nothing’s changed. He’s still in the same condition as the day I brought him back.” They sighed, “If I may, can I ask you a question?”

The urge to make the overdone dad joke was overwhelming, but given the seriousness of the situation, King refrained. “Sure.” He responded simply.

“Do you think I should kill him?”

Whatever King expected the Chosen One to say, it was not that. His mind went reeling as he stared slack-jawed at the super-powered stick. “Excuse me?” He asked, because maybe the Chosen One hadn’t just asked a complete stranger if they should kill their partner in crime. Maybe King was just going crazy.

“He’s shown no signs of recovery, nor do I have any idea if recovery is even possible.” The Chosen One sighed in melancholy. “At this point, it would be as much a mercy for him as it would be justice for the victims of the crimes we committed. And yet, when I think about it… I just… can’t.” Their hand shook as they squeezed them into tight fists. “And I don’t know why.”

“I would say it’s fairly normal to hesitate to kill your friends,” King pointed out. He decided to keep it to himself that even thinking about killing your friends was fairly abnormal.

“But he didn’t have any issues trying to kill me when I wouldn’t go along with him!” Chosen One objected, their frustration obviously mounting. “I don’t even know if we are friends anymore, or ever were. But the thought of killing him, I just… I can’t. I just can’t.” They buried their head in their hands, giving themselves a moment of rest before turning their full attention back to King. “I don’t know what the right choice is. What do you think I should do?”

Get a therapist was the first thought that came to King’s mind, but he swiftly shoved that thought out of his mind. Best go with something that wouldn’t risk getting himself incinerated. “I can’t make that decision for you,” King firmly stated. “This is between you and your friend”

Personally, King did think that the internet would be better with the Dark Lord dead. It would be better without the both of them. But if the Chosen One came to regret this decision, he refused to be their scapegoat.

“My friend…” An unexpected, fearful softness in their voice caught King entirely off guard. “I can’t even tell if we were friends anymore…” Everything in them slumped, as if the Chosen One was entirely drained of energy. “Our partnership was based entirely on our kinship as victims of our creator and our then mutual desire for destruction. And when I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore… things got ugly. I don’t think I’d ever been in a fight that bad. We nearly killed each other.”

“I can imagine,” King agreed. “But… out of curiosity, how did the discussion about you not wanting to hurt anyone anymore go?”

King got his answer from the sudden shift of Chosen One’s posture, the way they huddled in on themselves with a guilty air, but patiently allowed them to answer on their own. “There wasn’t one. It wasn’t a topic of discussion beforehand for the precise reason that I knew it would end badly. “

“So you never had a real conversation about it,” King mused over that tidbit of information, tossing it over and over in his head. “Well, no wonder you got into such a bad fight, then. He must have felt blindsided.”

“And that justifies him killing a bunch of kids?” Chosen One sniped back.

That was unexpected. King quickly assured him, “Of course not-” but Chosen continued as if they hadn’t even heard him.

“Our ‘friendship’,” They made exaggerated air quotes, a subtle growl in their voice, “ended the moment he decided to sic dangerous viruses on innocents. He was a terror, I know he was a terror, so then why… why can’t I just do it?” They reached up and grabbed their hair, tugging and squeezing on the black strands. King instinctively stepped forward with an arm outstretched to stop them before catching himself. This wasn’t Gold. Wasn’t Purple. This was the cursors forsaken Chosen One. He couldn’t just soothe them.

King covered the movement by reaching back to scratch his head. “Friendship doesn’t really work like that.” He explained mutely, not entirely sure how to explain a concept as basic as liking another stick. “You can’t control how you feel, even if you’d think logically that you should be feeling something else.” He snorted. “Trust me. If that were the case, I’d be having a much easier life.”

Chosen One seemed to consider that for a moment.”Perhaps,” They conceded, a mild reluctance in their voice, “But still, I wish it could be as simple for me as those children.”

Hearing that was so much of a shock that King had to choke back a laugh. “What?” He asked incredulously.

“Did you not hear their earlier fight?” Chosen One inquired, equally as confused. “The children have willfully severed their bonds. It seems that, despite all they’ve been through together, they weren’t strong enough to survive this. Tragic, but inevitable, I suppose.”

This time, King didn’t bother to contain himself. He laughed, a long, deep, full bellied laugh. Since meeting them the Chosen One had said some inane things to King, but that just might be the stupidest of them all.

When he looked up, he found himself amused with the expression of offense on his face. “Forgive me,” He said, his chuckle betraying his insincerity. “You don’t know these kids very well, do you?”

“I’ve only met them a few times,” Chosen One clearly was not used to being laughed at. They were just as confused as they were insulted. “But that doesn’t explain what’s so funny.”

King shook his head, “If you think that was enough to end their friendship, then you clearly don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. This little blow up? It’ll pass before the sun sets, that I can tell you.”

“You sound so… sure of that.” Chosen One remarked.

“Just watch them when they get back,” King returned his attention back to Second, whose condition had not changed since their bout of healing earlier. This meant turning his back to the Chosen One, but after all he’d exhibited, King felt himself oddly unbothered by the thought. “You might just learn a thing or two about friendship. Maybe you’ll even find the answer you’re looking for.”

Chosen One opened their mouth to respond, but the sudden sound of the door opening cut their conversation short. King grinned and spun in his seat, tapping his fingers against each other diabolically as he came face to face with the the two who decided to run out into the rain (which had stopped… when had it stopped?) after the crazy day they’d just had. At least one of them had thought to bring an umbrella.

“Well, well, well…” He purred maniacally, “Look who finally decided to show up. Do you have any idea what time it is, young stick?”

Purple, slightly damp from the weather and still wearing Gold’s vest, rolled their eyes, “We were gone for like, half an hour.”

“I was worried sick!” He proclaimed dramatically, throwing himself over the armchair in a faint. He could see Chosen One flinch back, startled at his sudden change in behavior. “You left without even a word to your poor, poor old man! I was in tears the entire time!”

“Funny, it doesn’t show on you at all.” Deadpanned the violet stick. King could see the muscles in their face twitch as they struggled not to smile.

“And you didn’t even think to call!” He accused back.

The playfulness suddenly left Purple’s face. King’s brow furrowed as he sat up. Something was wrong. He wanted to reach out, to console, to pry whatever was wrong from the poor kid’s face. But living with Purple had taught King a new kind of patience, so he merely stayed seated and watched as they worked up the courage to tell him what was up. “Er, about that…” They scratched the back of their head. Okay, this was guilty Purple. Which meant they were about to confess something either entirely mundane, or an actual crime. Could go either way. “So I kinda, sorta… broke my phone.”

“How did that happen?” He asked. It was a lot less serious than he was expecting, which was good, but now he was actually annoyed at them for stepping out without a way to contact him.

“Dropped it.” They revealed, speaking quickly.

King sighed, the sort of tired sigh he found himself giving many times since taking Purple in. “Okay, so, maybe tell me that before you run off next time?”

“I have my phone,” Green pointed out.

“And you may have noticed that despite that, I have not given you my number.” Snipped back King. “That is because I do not trust you not to text me memes in the middle of the night.”

Green gasped, mock offended. “How dare you!” He narrowed his eyes at King before turning away with his nose up. “I am a perfect little angel!”

What a liar.

A sudden bang! Cut through the living room unexpectedly, causing everyone present to jump in surprise. King scrambled to sit up straight in the armchair before his mind caught up with him, reminding King that it was likely the trap door making that sound – Purple, before they were familiar with how much force to open it with, would often startle him with the sound accidentally. Then they learned how to control it, and would startle him with the sound on purpose. Like them it was loud but, ultimately, nothing to fear.

The series of events that happened next flew by so fast that King was glad he managed not to blink, lest he miss any of the delightful chaos the brats caused. Yellow burst out of the basement first, followed by the rest of her friends, each carrying a different Mexican dish and shouting in excitement. Like soldiers on the battlefield they charged, and Yellow, having only had working feet for less than an hour, managed to trip over her own two feet and launch the dish in her hand forward. Green neatly dodged, so instantaneously that it was like instinct, and the plate of burritos instead hit Purple square in the face.

King winced. Ooh, and they’d just had that nasty bruise from yesterday healed.

“Hey!” Purple yelled, an equal mix of outraged and surprised as fresh Minecraft food dripped down their face.

“Oh my Cursors!” Yellow swore, covering her mouth to hide her gasp. She raced to Green, reaching out as if to touch him, but stopped herself at the last moment. “I am so, so sorry! I just- I wanted to make some of your favourite food, I didn’t mean to throw it like that- I-!”

She was cut off by laughter. Soft chuckling that slowly grew into louder, boisterous, joyful cackles. Before Yellow could recover from the shock Green wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up in a full-body hug. Yellow bounced back quickly and joined in with Green’s laughter, bringing him in for a tight hold the second her feet were on the floor.

Nearby, King could see Chosen One watching in mute shock. He gave them a big, flashy ‘I told you so’ smile that was straight from Purple’ repertoire.

“Sorry we left you all alone,” Green apologized, the most sincere King had ever heard him.

“And I’m sorry too,” Insisted Yellow, her arms still wrapped around Green. “Nothing that happened is your fault. I hope you know that.”

Somehow, King doubted that. Green’s eyes glanced downward to the floor for a fraction of a second, then swiftly met Yellow’s again. “Yeah,” He spoke gently, “I know.”

“Group hug!” Called Red, giving Green and Yellow only a second’s notice before the two were tackled by him and Blue. The once dull, empty living room was brightened by the echoes of laughter as the four friends held each other, spinning and giggling and snuggling into each other. When Purple stumbled into the fold, courtesy of a totally not guilty looking Gold, the others didn’t even slow down in their merriment, just happily accepting Purple into it and continuing to embrace each other fully.

And then, like the sound of their friends’ happiness had guided them back, the Second Coming finally began to stir.

The sound of their voice caused the others to still, silently astonished as they recognized Second’s groggy grumbling. Before King could blink they’d all raced past him, crowding around the couch with soft, silent gasps. King had to stand to be able to see them slowly force their eyes open.

“Sec?” One of them asked hesitantly, so softly King couldn’t recognize who spoke up.

“Guys…?” Second’s own voice was so soft and groggy that it barely sounded like them. Though they were supposedly fully healed, one couldn’t tell simply by looking at them. They seemed barely able to turn their head, and their eyes were dark and sunken in. But they were alive. That, at least, was better than they’d been when King had first seen them.

“Oh, thank Turing!” Green was the first to duck down and give them a relieved, tight hug, followed swiftly by Blue, Yellow, Red, and even Purple. At some point Gold had maneuvered to stand next to King, and his sweet little smile as he surveyed the scene brought another jolt of warmth to King’s tired heart.

It seemed they were finally ready to start healing.

“What ‘appened?” Second slurred. Their hands had briefly twitched as they attempted to return the hug, but apparently the effort had been too much, because they’d swiftly abandoned that action and instead just passively allowed their friends to control the hug.

“You don’t remember?” Yellow asked, and if she sounded more relieved than worried, King wasn’t about to comment.

Chosen One, apparently, had no such qualms. “That may be something of a blessing,” They commented as they approached. Second, in spite of their clear exhaustion, seemed shocked to see them there. Unconcerned by their surprise, Chosen One continued. “You almost died.”

“I…” Their eyes widened in shock, “I… almost died?”

“You did.” Like before, the Chosen One seemed annoyed to have to repeat themselves. “You overexerted your powers, and your body locked itself into a feedback loop that caused you to start melting.” They sneered, “Showing off like you did was incredibly irresponsible. You can barely control your powers, and as a result put yourself and the people you claimed to care about more than anything in danger.” They crossed their arms, “It was reckless at best. You should know better than to be so idiotic.”

Second visibly deflated.

King’s jaw dropped to the ground. Was that… was that their attempt at parenting? King had heard better attempts at parenting from Purple’s childhood stories, and those had given him at least three new guilt complexes.

Green was the first to recover from the shock, instantly jumping to Second’s defense. “Hey, it wasn’t their fault! They only did it because we made them!”

“So they are no longer capable of making their own decisions?” Chosen One asked as casually as if asking for the weather. “The Second Coming is an autonomous being with the power to say ‘no,’ and I fully expect them to exercise it. The responsibility of this incident is entirely on their shoulders.”

Anger radiated from Green as he tightened his fists and clenched his jaw. If looks alone could kill, the Chosen One would already be six feet under. Unfortunately that didn’t do anything to lift Second’s mood. Unable to physically turn away from the others, all they could do was squeeze their eyes shut and try not to cry.

With a loud clap of his hands, King drew all attention away from Second and towards himself. “Well, I think that’s enough of that!” He proclaimed brightly. Before anyone could protest King picked himself up off his seat and maneuvered over to the Chosen One, grabbing them by the shoulder, and if they noticed him digging his nails into them they didn’t complain. “Chosen One, you and I should go have a… chat. The rest of you can,” His eyes darted towards the plates of food the others held, and the burritos abandoned on the floor, “Get yourselves more food. Don’t forget to make Second a plate too, yeah?”

He was met with a chorus of grumbled agreements. The kids all gathered around the couch as they divvied out dinnertime chores, with Gold and Purple added to the mix. King let them sort it out amongst themselves as he guided Chosen One away from the gang and through the ruins of the kitchen towards the back door. Chosen One themselves was allowing him to, though judging from the look on their face, it seemed to be more from confusion than anything.

Once he had them outside, King allowed himself to explode, “What the HELL were you thinking?!”

Like a moron, the Chosen One cocked their head to one side in complete bafflement, “Uh, pardon me?”

“Your little ‘speech’ back there,” King clarified, already feeling a migraine coming on, “Did you SERIOUSLY think that was helpful?!”

Now that they knew what he was talking about, Chosen One turned stern, crossing their arms and glaring up at King – he was taller than them, how the heck did he not realize that? King was taller than one of the deadliest terrorists on the internet. That was… a lot.

“I was simply reinforcing that the Second Coming can’t be so reckless with their powers,” They insisted firmly. “They really should know better, especially when they are both inexperienced and magnitudes stronger than their closest match. You all are lucky their little outburst didn’t end up being even more destructive.”

An image came to King’s mind of Newgrounds post Chosen One and Dark Lord attack, and he shivered. Indeed, it could have gone a LOT worse. That said… “They were already suffering because of what happened,” He snapped at them. Through the kitchen window he could see Second lying on the couch with Green watching over them, he could tell from Green’s false cheeriness that they were still reeling from Chosen One’s scolding. “They didn’t need to be told how much of a screw up they are. They needed reassurance.”

“You scolded the two children back at the tunnel, and they were hurt.” Objected the focus of King’s ire.

Did they just have selective hearing or something? “I did,” He acquiesced, “But I ALSO made sure both of them were okay. You can’t just yell at someone because they did something wrong.” A lesson his past self still needed to learn, if what little he’d gathered about their impromptu trip out was true, “You have to give them empathy and understanding as well. Otherwise, they’re not going to get what you’re saying. They’re just going to feel bad about themselves.”

Thankfully it seemed the Chosen One was more receptive to constructive criticism than his past self, taking in King’s words with a thoughtful hum. “I have to admit,” Their already soft voice was quieter than normal, “I’m not the most… experienced when it comes to dealing with other animations. Outside of my former partner, I’ve had only a handful of conversations in the past few years, and half of those have been with these kids.” They glanced back through the window, to Second and Green. The others had all grabbed food at this point, and had joined the two back in the living room. Though the walls muted their conversation, King could tell from their excited gestures that it was a lively one, “You were right about their friendship. Even after all that, they’re just laughing and smiling without a care. How can they, when barely an hour earlier they were at each other’s throats?”

“Like I said,” It was strange; they’d gone from that stern glare to humbled in a minute, “You can learn a lot by watching those kids. They don’t always come at things from the right direction, but their dedication to each other is something really special. “

“Yes, you may be right about that…” They mused, “It was, after all, partially the need to protect them that allowed them to awaken their true potential. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to… observe them. See what effect their relationships have on the Second Coming’s powers.”

“Sure,” King agreed nonchalantly. Whatever excuse they had to make to themselves. By now the earlier rain clouds had mostly cleared, leaving the air refreshingly cool and the scent of wet grass wafting through the air. “Seems you’ll be right about the roof being dry by tonight. Still, you can sleep in the basement if you’d like.”

“I’ll…” A beat of hesitation, then the Chosen One looked away, “consider it. Thank you. Now, may I partake in the feast?”

A quiet snort of laughter left King. They were so… serious. “You may,” He allowed, and before he could blink they were gone, flying through the living room and towards the basement, if the shouts of surprise inside were anything to go by. What an oddball, King mused as he followed them inside. The disturbance they’d caused by blasting through had subsided quickly, aside from Blue apologetically wiping some sort of sauce off of Second’s very unamused face.

Everyone had a plate piled high with various types of Mexican food. Tamales and tacos and burritos, one of which King swiped off of Purple’s plate with a teasing grin. They whined as he took a bite, but weren’t really upset. Just annoyed. And it wasn’t like there weren’t many more piled high on the plate of everyone around the room. That is, everyone… except Gold.

King frowned. A part of him was hesitant to approach, his pounding heart reminding him of the contempt his child held. He could not, however, override the part of himself that had taken care of this child for years, and so he approached, “You’re not eating, honey?” He asked, barely suppressing a cringe as the pet name slipped out. The last thing he wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

“Huh?” Gold himself, however, barely took notice of the slip, “Oh, I’ve… already eaten.” His volume fell a little as he looked out over the others, “Purple and I didn’t really have time to eat before we left, so we were really hungry. I couldn’t wait.”

An instinctual scolding was swallowed back. Instead, King shook his head, ignoring fluttery memories of Gold attempting to sample baked goods well before they were ready. “Are you sure got enough, then?” He asked instead.

“Yup!” Gold proclaimed. Their eyes met for but a brief moment before Gold looked away again, “Don’t worry about me, King Dad. I’m fine.” He sighed, tired and relieved from the day’s events, and repeated, “I’m just fine.”

He didn’t quite look it, with bags under his eyes and his shoulders locked up with tension, but King couldn’t call him out. Not without pushing the child further away than he already was. “Just making sure,” He promised, pushing away from the wall to go check on the others.

If his heart twisted in pain when Gold sighed in relief, well, that was only for King to know.

--------------------

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of activity. Dinner had been a mostly joyful event, with jokes and stories and general unwinding from the craziness that had been the rest of the day. Mango and Chosen One had both decided not to join for their own reasons, which suited Purple just fine. The only thing undercutting their evening merriment was Second only managing a few bites of food before drifting back to sleep. Gold had kindly rejected Purple’s offer to share, insisting he’d eaten beforehand, so Purple polished off their entire plate by themselves, minus one or two things that King playfully stole off his plate.

After dinner, everyone got into another flurry of evening chores. Everyone except Yellow, who’d taken guard next to Second and refused to budge. If anybody had any problems with this, they’d refused to speak up. Purple had ended up on dish duty: the dirty plates had been unceremoniously shoved into Purple’s arms by King, who cooed that it was their turn to handle the dishes, since they hadn’t last night. So, with a grumble, Purple took the items into their inventory and made the perilous descent down into the basement, being careful not to fall to their death-

“It’s a one-story ladder,” King interrupted flatly, crossing his arms. “You make the descent nearly every day.”

Purple tossed their head back dramatically, “I could die and you don’t even care!”

“For shame!” Gold backed Purple up immediately, pressing against their back as he joined in the fun. Purple nearly spoiled the game by cracking up. It was just so obvious how new Gold was to the game, just from how fake his dramatic voice sounded.

Sternly, King pointed towards the basement entrance. “Dishes. You. Clean. Or else we’ll be eating off of books tomorrow.”

So, Purple made their way into the basement all by their lonesome, while everyone upstairs tidied up in preparation for a night of relaxation. In stark contrast to the chaos upstairs, the lower levels were still and quiet. Purple didn’t mind that so much, if they were being honest. Their friends were… a lot, sometimes. They loved the little rascals, but nobody could really blame them for needing a moment away.

In spite of their grumbling, Purple took care of the large pile of dishes in what amounted to a surprisingly little time. The mechanics of the game meant the grime washed off with basically a single scrub. Convenient! Why didn’t they use Minecraft stuff more often-

Wait. Never mind.

After they finished, Purple spun around and then immediately stumbled to scramble back as they found themselves face to face with Mango. The shock caused their heart to pound against their chest like a drum. Purple swiftly cursed themselves for not paying attention; if that had been a monster, or a home intruder, or one of Red’s stupid pranks, Purple would have been left completely defenseless.

Of course, instead of any threat to their bodily harm (or dignity, in Red’s case), it was Mango standing on the other side of the crafting table. Purple might have preferred a dangerous monster.

“Hi,” Started the less mature Old Man.

Purple echoed his greeting with a nervous wave, “Hi.”

More silence. A million questions came to mind – What do you want? Why aren’t you with Gold? Why are you staring at me…? – but Purple’s tongue remained still. Their shot nerves chose to freeze instead of their preferred flee, leaving Purple paralyzed in place. Their heart pounded in their ears, and suddenly Purple began to crave the lively noise from upstairs.

After a long stretch of a minute, Mango spoke up again, “Purple, I’d like to talk to you-”

They winced. Yeah, after all the trouble they’d caused today, they should’ve realized this was coming, but- but they’d really hoped it wasn’t.“I’m sorry, I know, I- I promise I’ll be better, so please just give me a little more time-”

“What?” Mango seemed genuinely baffled, which threw Purple through a whole new loop.

“You’re kicking me out, aren’t you?” They asked.

If he was confused before, then Mango was genuinely shocked to hear that. “What? No. No, I’m not kicking you out.” Purple tried not to look surprised, and must have failed, because Mango immediately clarified, “King is the owner of this home. I don’t have the power to kick anyone out.”

They weren’t completely convinced, but Purple allowed themselves to relax a smidge. Okay, so they weren’t going to be kicked out. Then why was he talking to Purple?

He sighed, straightening his back, “I’m here to… apologize.”

…Oh. So Purple was going crazy. That was what was going on.

“I’ll admit, I’ve been… uncharitable, towards you,” He continued, keeping his gaze towards the ground and away from Purple. “You didn’t deserve how I treated you. I am truly sorry.”

Purple felt vaguely smacked in the face.

But apparently, Mango wasn’t done with the surprise, “Yesterday,” He began after a brief pause, “When you and King were talking about your… family. I happened to overhear a little of it.”

A record scratch played in Purple’s head, freezing everything around them, “How much did you hear?” They asked, just to clarify.

“…Enough.” It was one word, but it spoke volumes. Purple’s mouth went dry. They opened their mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. So they just stood there and gaped like a fish as Mango continued, “Your family situation isn’t really any of my business. I let my curiosity get the best of me, and violated your privacy. I’m apologizing for that as well.”

“Oh.” Purple stared down at the stack of dishes in front of them. A sudden urge to reach forward and throw the clean porcelain at his head made their fingers twitch, but Purple reigned it in and focused on their breathing. In, and out. In… and out. “I mean, I guess it’s not a big deal,” They muttered. “I’ve kinda learned all of your family drama. Turnabout’s fair play, am I right?”

If Mango noticed how their throat tried to close on them, or how their skin was warm and clammy as nerves churned their stomach, he didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned forward on the crafting table, propping himself up on his elbows. Purple took a defensive step back, then immediately covered the movement by grabbing a spare burrito from behind them and nibbling on it.

“Sounds like you’d had it rough,” Mango, to his credit, did seem to be attempting to broach the subject cautiously. But why was he talking about this at all? He’d said his piece, why was he still going? “If anything I said or did made it worse-”

Guilt, they suddenly realized. That was the reason. Okay, Purple could work with that. They forced themselves to look Mango in the eye with their tiny, dimply smile. It was so much easier to play the part when they knew what role they were playing. “Nope!” They popped the ‘p’ sound playfully, “That little love tap from yesterday was just an accident. So no hard feelings!”

All at once, Mango’s shoulders slumped in relief and he leaned back, no longer quite so on edge. “Good, good.” He muttered, “That’s good. Just… wanted to make sure you’re good.”

Purple nodded, “And I appreciate it,” They said, sincerely, “Really.”

When Mango finally left them alone, Purple allowed themselves to sigh in relief. They’d been half afraid that Mango would press them for details, and after everything, Purple was not in any mood to talk about Mama or Pops.

It wasn’t that they hated their parents. Mama was the sweetest stick in the Outernet – kind and empathetic to everyone she met, spending every spare moment in their back garden. She’d always been kind of quiet, kind of spacey, keeping her distance from new sticks but always holding Purple and their Pops close. And Pops… they were so strong, so fiercely protective. They’d pushed Purple farther than they could handle, sure, but only because they wanted a kid strong enough to protect themselves. And when Purple proved they couldn’t, they’d… left. It had been hard, at the time, but Purple understood. So no, they didn’t hate their parents.

Like Gold before them, it was just… complicated. Hard to talk about. Nothing the family residents of the house weren’t used to.

The rest of the night passed by in a haze. Once chores were done (or at least, done enough for everyone to sleep comfortably), they’d settled in for a movie. Gold chose it, some action filled sports film that Purple was only half paying attention to. Second drifted in and out, being conscious only long enough for one of the others to force water down their throat before falling back into slumber. All throughout the movie Purple had played the part of the fun friend, making jokes with Red, and poking fun at Blue’s emotional responses, and teasing Gold (light, easy stuff, nothing to push their new dynamic as siblings yet), and annoying the Old Man. Mango was there too – Purple did their best to ignore him, but he’d taken a seat on the floor next to Gold. The two seemed to have made up, which was… good. The same couldn’t be said for Gold and King yet, but Purple only had to give them time. Just enough to settle in, and Purple was sure they’d find their way together again.

It was only one movie, and then everyone decided to retire early. Purple had no complaints; as Yellow and Green, both uncharacteristically silent throughout the movie, set out the freshly cleaned bedding yet again, Purple stumbled back towards their room. As they changed out of their (Gold’s) clothes, disposed of the old bandages, and got into their pajamas, Purple moved as though they were a machine, going through the motions of their nighttime routine: go to bathroom, wash face, brush teeth, then return to their room to brush their hair. The sun was only just setting outside; another day Purple might have complained about being sent to bed so early, but they were so wiped that they could hardly give two darns about that.

A knock on the door broke Purple out of their stupor. They jolted to attention immediately, mind racing to analyze the noise. It wasn’t chaotic enough to be Red, not rhythmic enough to be Green. It wasn’t soft enough to be Blue, nor was it Yellow’s firm, strong knock. Wasn’t the Old Man’s, and Purple doubted Mango would be at their door. With Second bedridden- er, couch-ridden, that only left one option.

“Come in, Goldie!” They called.

When the door creaked open, Gold’s astonished face peeked out. His expression alone was enough to make Purple laugh.

“How’d you know it was me?” He asked, gazing at Purple with total amazement.

They tapped their temple and waggled their eyebrows as they proclaimed, “I’m psychic.”

“Whoa…!” Gold fully stepped into the room, flapping his hands excitedly. Wait, he didn’t… actually believe Purple, did he? Geez, Purple had a lot of work to do with this kid.

Chuckling, Purple set down their brush and turned their attention fully to Gold. “You need something?” They asked.

“Oh, uh, right,” Shaking himself free of his stupor, Gold tapped his fingers together as he gingerly took a step forward. “My Dad- uh, Mango, told me that he apologized to you, and… you know, they’re both old. Going senile. Just wanted make sure he wasn’t imagining things.”

Aw, he was learning. Precious. “Yeah, he apologized,” Purple confirmed. It had been awkward as heck, but it had happened.

“Good, good,” Gold nodded, oddly reminiscent of his father. Purple leaned back, letting a wave of amusement pass through them, “That’s good. Just wanted to make sure he wasn’t, ah, imagining things.” He scratched the back of his head and stuck his tongue out, laughing, “Can’t have anyone lying about my favourite little sibling!”

“You’re still saying that, huh?” They asked, taking their brush in hand again. After the day’s events, they weren’t surprised that the gentle waves of their hair were all tangled up.

“Weren’t you the one who called yourself that back in the tunnels?” Gold asked cheekily. He tenderly poked Purple’s cheek.

Not expecting the sudden contact, Purple jumped slightly, then covered the movement by smacking Gold’s hand away. They didn’t put any actual force behind it, of course. It was all in good fun. “I said no such thing.” They stated, lying.

Gold protested immediately, jostling Purple by shaking them from side to side. This was less intentional and more just excess energy escaping via sibling torment. “Yes, you did! You said it straight to my face.”

Continuing to comb their hair, Purple casually responded, “Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah huh!” Gold countered. He may have protested more, but the playful bickering was suddenly brought to a halt by a loud grumbling.

Purple paused. Looked up. Gold wasn’t meeting their eyes, looking off to the side while trying far too hard to look casual. Their eyes narrowed. “Goldie,” They spoke lowly with a warning tone, “Was that you?” Gold didn’t respond, but the sudden blush on his face was answer enough. “If you didn’t get enough to eat, dude, you can take leftovers. The others won’t mind.”

“I… got more than enough,” He tried to assure Purple, but already he was failing miserably. Averted eyes, hesitating when speaking, nervous body language… all the classic telltale signs. “Like I told you, I ate before you and Green got back.”

That… also had the telltale signs of lying. Purple narrowed their gaze at Gold, accusing him with their eyes, and it was enough for Gold to take a brief step back. Seeing that made Purple sigh and put their brush down again. The knots could wait. This was a little more urgent. “Goldie,” They spun around to face him fully, “I am a master liesmith. A professional gaslighter. I spin more tall tales before breakfast than you’ve told in your entire life.” Gold tensed under Purple’s scrutinous gaze. “If you’re going to lie to me, then you’re going to have to do a lot better than that. Now, let me ask you a different question.” They stood up, forcing Gold to meet them eye to eye. “Did you actually eat anything today?”

“Well, I mean…” He hesitated, but Gold’s defeated posture left Purple confident they were going to get the truth. “I tried, I promise!” He suddenly cried out, taking Purple aback, “I really did! It’s just… I just look at it and I can’t… urgh! It’s so STUPID! It’s not the video game’s fault, so why am I still…?”

And just like that, it clicked. The food was all Minecraft food. Purple mentally kicked themselves for not realizing sooner that this would be a problem. They’d seen it before, back in the woods and in the tunnels, when Gold had freaked out over Minecraft items. To be fair, that was one thing he’d managed to hide rather well, but Purple had been subject to enough quiet panic attacks to tell when someone was hiding their own discomfort. How had they not seen that this would be an issue?

“Hey,” They soothed, almost absentmindedly as they placed a hand on Gold’s shoulder. This froze his spiral and forced his attention on to Purple. “It’s okay. You said you tried, and that’s what really matters, okay?” Gold only nodded along, but his heart didn’t seem in it. Well. The Minecraft phobia was a ‘later’ problem. For now, food. Purple couldn’t just let the kid go hungry. So, somewhat resigned, they leaned in closer to whisper, “Can you keep a secret?”

Instead of a verbal response, Gold brought his fingers to his mouth and mimed zipping it up. Message received.

With a wave of their hand, Purple gestured for Gold to follow after, and lead him to the upper left corner of the bed. Then, they leaned down and felt for the subtle grips in the wooden flooring, making sure they had strong leverage before pulling the plank free. It creaked in protest, but didn’t do much more as Purple pulled it away and set it aside. They then reached into the hole and procured a plastic bag, which they held out to proudly display to Gold like a trophy.

Inside the bag was at least fifteen different kinds of candy. Gold himself gasped. “A candy stash!” He sounded almost as impressed as he did when Purple revealed their talent for the violin. “But how did you hide this from Dad? I can never keep a secret stash longer than a few days before he finds it!”

Purple shrugged. In reality, King didn’t do too much to regulate Purple’s living space – it was supposed to be somewhere they’d feel comfortable, he’d said, and so aside from some gentle suggestions he’d mostly stayed out of it. But it was more or less an old habit from Mama and Pop’s place. Not for sneaking treats, oddly enough, but a skill Pops had purposely cultivated in them. It’s important to be able to hide necessary supplies, they’d instilled in Purple. If it was taken, they’d be plum out of luck. It was more an old habit to hide food or other important stuff than an actual necessity.

“You can have as much as you’d like, provided you don’t tell anyone it’s here,” Purple decreed. Gold hardly needed more than ‘you can-’ before he’d dug into the bag and began munching. “We’ll probably be going shopping for real food after things calm down a bit, so hang tight until then, okay?”

Mouth too full to answer properly, Gold just nodded.

The two hung around for a while Gold got his fill of candy. Logically Purple knew that it wasn’t a great idea to substitute Gold’s diet with junk food, but if he couldn’t eat the Minecraft candy then, well, there weren’t any other options. Tomorrow Purple would come up with some excuse to get the Old Man to go to the store, so at least they’d have something normal that Gold could eat. While he ate, Purple resumed trying to get the knots out of their hair. There wasn’t any meaningless small talk between them; just soft, relaxing, companionable quiet.

It didn’t last. It never did.

Two sharp rasps at the door alerted Purple that either Mango or King was at the door. By that point the candy had been returned to its hiding spot and the floorboard replaced, so Purple didn’t have any qualms about calling out, “Come in!”

King walking in was a major relief. Wrinkled foreheads and baggy eyes had never looked so angelic. “Well, look at that,” He looked over the two in awe, something soft twinkling in his eye, “Seems you two are getting along just fine.”

“Hey, Old Man,” Purple greeted while casually leaning back. They tossed their comb back into its place now that it had done its job.

“Something up?” Gold asked, sitting back on the bed. He was trying to be casual, but a little too tense to pull it off.

If King noticed, he didn’t let on at all. “Since we didn’t have any time to figure out alternate arrangements, your… father and I,” Purple wrinkled their nose at the wording of that. Like King wasn’t also Gold’s father? “Are going to spend the night in your room again. If you don’t mind.”

Gold more or less shrugged, “Fine by me. Just don’t start fighting again. I know you guys got up last night.”

Neither Gold nor King seemed to notice Purple wincing. Good.

“We won’t,” King promised with an awkward cringe, “Feel free to take your time finishing up, but Mango’s already setting up to sleep, and I’m going to join him once I check on Second again. We’ll see you soon, hon.”

And with that, King left as quickly as he appeared.

Gold picked himself up shortly after, “I think I’m gonna turn in too. I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Purple agreed, though they couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful. Gold was… actually fun to be around. They were surprisingly sad to see him go.

Maybe they had let their longing slip out, or maybe Gold felt it too, but he paused right in front of the bedroom door. The air between them was still, quiet masking the hidden emotion in the air. Purple found themselves sitting up and staring at Gold, finding themselves feeling a well of expecting within them.

“Hey, Purple?” He broke the silence with a soft, quiet question. “How about you come spend the night with me and our Dads?”

What…?

He’d… oh. Oh, he was…

It took a moment for Purple to recover from the shock. Before they could completely process the offer, their mouth was moving, “Are you sure? I mean, there’s not a lot of room left, with those two giants, and- and I don’t want to interfere with your family time…”

Unphased, Gold strolled over to Purple and took their hands in his own, meeting their nervous hesitation with kindness and patience, “You can share my bed,” He reassured them, already taking teeny tiny steps to drag Purple forward with him, “And… well, it’s not family time if the whole family isn’t there.”

Oh. Oh, he was really serious about this whole siblings things, huh…?

Swallowing back the last bits of their hesitation, their internal objections that they were just intruding on King and Gold’s real family, Purple allowed themselves to be dragged along to Gold’s room. Gold’s hand was almost as warm as his smile.

For a moment the two paused outside of the door. “Mango Dad’s in there,” Gold recalled in a whisper, “I know he apologized and all, but… if he makes you uncomfortable, we can spend the night in your room.”

That was something Purple couldn’t do. While they were allowing themselves to indulge Gold, stealing him from even Mango was a bit too far. So with a wink, Purple quietly reassured, “Nah, it’ll be fine. Watch and learn,” And, without any further warning, they tossed the door open.

Mango, who’d been lying on his sleeping mat, jumped at the noise.

“Out of the way, nerd!” Purple sneered as they marched through, followed by surprised but giggly Gold, “We have a strict ‘No Geeks Allowed’ policy on this bed!” And with that they fell back, bouncing a little on the sturdy bed.

“Hehehe,” Gold was only barely able to contain his laughter, “Y-yeah… only cool kids allowed!” He fell on to the bed by Purple’s side, giggling like a little madman.

If it had been only Purple speaking like that, Mango may have reacted more negatively. Thankfully, though, Gold had chimed in, so when the two’s attention returned to the younger of the Old Men, he seemed more amused than anything else. “I take it Purple’s joining us for the night?” He asked. When Gold readily agreed, he only nodded, “I see. Well, good. It’s nice of you to join us.”

Purple was having a difficult time telling how sincere he was. The tone of his voice was more emotionless than anything.

Soon enough King returned, much to Purple’s relief, which quickly turned to amusement at the Old Man’s double take. For a moment he just stood at the door, processing his child and Purple wrapped up in Gold’s blanket like a pair of litter mates.

“I’m stealing your son,” Purple greeted casually. Gold responded by leaning his head on Purple’s shoulder.

Once King recovered from the shock, he quickly snorted off Purple’s proclamation. “You couldn’t afford him,” He said, and flipped off the lights before crawling into his space right next to Mango. As he relaxed, he called up one final warning: “Just be careful, kid. Gold’s clingy.”

“I am not!” Gold argued back, huffing and pouting like a spoiled cat. King just chuckled.

Purple fell back, snuggling into the pillow and making themselves comfortable. Gold’s bed was large enough for both of them to sleep with an arm’s length of space between them. The ceiling above shimmered with little plastic glow in the dark stars. A soft wind blew outside the window, carrying away the last heat of the day and allowing a pleasant coolness to settle over the Outernet. With the sounds of Gold’s light snoring in one ear and King and Mango’s sleepy mumbles in the other, Purple allowed themselves to drift off.

--------------------

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Warm drops of liquid fell, one after another, onto Red’s forehead, disturbing his peaceful slumber. He groaned as he was roused against his will, eyebrow twitching from the unexpected contact. “Guys…” He grumbled, “Thought we agreed no pranks after bedtime.” It had been a suggestion (read: mandate) from Sec themselves after an ill-timed buzzer woke them in the middle of the night.

No one responded. Realizing he’d actually have to get up to stop the liquid, Red groaned again and pushed himself up off the hard wooden floor. His hand flew up to his face and wiped the liquid from his forehead. Blinking slowly, Red stared down at his hand.

In the moonlight streaking through the window, he could make out a streak of orange on his skin.

Red continued to stare, his half-awake mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. As soon as it hit his brain he scrambled to stand, terrified eyes scanning the couch to find Sec.

All he found was an orange puddle, dripping off the soaked blanket.

“Guys…!” He cried, breath hitching as he struggled to breath. Sec was gone. He could barely believed it – he could barely think. Sec was gone. Sec was GONE. When no one responded to his call for help, Red turned to the others, “Guys! Sec is-!”

For the second time that night, Red felt his words catch his throat.

In his panic he hadn’t bothered to look at the rest of his friends. When he did, however, he was horrified to find them in various states of decay. Green was stabbed through the chest. Blue, her head. Yellow had been sliced from shoulder to hip, torso cut clean through. Blood pooled around the three as their bodies began to decay into sickly red code.

Red took two steps back before he hit something solid. Spinning around, he came face to face with vibrant red flesh and black, soulless eyes. The familiar monster didn’t even speak; before Red could move it thrust forward, stabbing him clear through the stomach. Red gasped-

-and awoke.

He gasped for air as he shot up, but managed to keep from screaming. Red clutched at his shirt, feeling his heart race underneath his finger. He willed himself to slow his breathing, in and out, in and out, over and over until, at last, his jaw unclenched and he was able to release his shirt. A nightmare. That was all it was, he told himself. Just a horrible, terrible nightmare. Based on real events.

Just to reassure himself, Red turned to check on each his friends. Green, breathing softly. Blue was snoring the night away. Yellow was clutching her pillow like a doll, snuggling it close. No blood, no stab wounds. Just sound slumber. Not satisfied quite yet, Red spun around to face the couch. There was Sec, safe and sound. Whole. In one piece.

Exhaling in relief, Red slumped back down to the ground in relief.

Welp. He wasn’t sleeping anymore tonight.

Red only allowed himself a moment more to recover before silently picking himself up and slipping away from the others. He would hardly call himself the stealthiest of his little gang, but all his time pulling pranks and stealing from the others had left Red with some skills. Nobody so much as stirred as Red escaped the living room and climbed down into King and Purple’s Minecraft Cave.

Like always, Reuben was awaiting Red when he descended, as though he’d somehow sensed Red’s pain. He ran up to Red and squealed happily, headbutting his legs. Red laughed, “Hey, hey! Calm down, mister!” With no other option, he bent down and rubbed at Reuben’s head. “Hehe, you silly little piggie. Did you eat all your dinner?”

Stupid Green had wanted to give Reuben the leftovers from dinner, but Red had vetoed that idea immediately. Reuben was going to live a good, healthy life, and that required good, healthy food. So Red had portioned out a good portion of veg and meat for Reuben’s munching delight. Nutritious, and delicious!

Reuben answered with a satisfied oink and a profound smacking his lips.

“Good, good, that’s good. Sorry to bug you so late,” Red’s hand moved from Reuben’s ear to his cheek to his neck, scratching and petting generously. “I was just… having a hard time sleeping.” Not when Sec’s melting body appeared every time he closed his eyes. He had to stay awake. He had to stop thinking.

He had to find something to do.

The memory of the destroyed kitchen upstairs came to mind. Red grinned down at Reuben, suddenly feeling a rush of energy. “But I think I have just the thing to help. C’mon, buddy, we’re gonna need to stop by the PC for a little bit. And then we’re gonna get to work!” Reuben squealed and jumped up into Red’s arms. Red caught him, laughing. “Yes, we are! Yes, we are, you good little piggy!”

With a flick of the hidden lever, Red activated the portal into the Nether and stepped through, cuddling and snuggling Reuben. The others would throw a hissy fit when they realized that Red went out – and in the middle of the night, no less – but that could wait until tomorrow. For tonight, there was work to be done!

The portal faded closed, and from the corner of the basement, a pair of bleary ruby eyes watched Red’s retreat. They pondered for a moment, debated, then snuggled back into their pile of blankets. Whatever was happening right now was not their concern.

--------------------

AKA: Everyone makes bad decisions: The Chapter.

Today is my birthday! :D I was so happy to get this done today! Though, I'll admit, I did rush through some of the proofreading, so don't be afraid to let me know about anything amiss you find.

I decided to forego consistency for the art and just focus on having fun. So… yeah. Sorry if it comes off as weird in any way. And I'm aware this chapter is ridiculously long, so please, feel free to ask questions about anything you find confusing. I'll answer, and maybe even edit the chapter to make it less confusing, if I can.

There was a line changed in the previous chapter to make it compliant with this chapter. It's not particularly big, but there was a comment about this line, and I realized then it didn't quite fit with the narrative. So, I altered it.

I'm a little nervous, since I got a lot of nice comments on the first chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy this one just as much! There were admittedly points where I got writer's block really bad, I hope it doesn't show in any of the quality. And weirdly enough? I only really got through it to finish the chapter thanks to Metaphor: Refantazio. I don't know why, but something about that game makes me want to create. I love it dearly already <3

Here's hoping the next chapter will be more chill. Also, Tumblr Index will be going up soon.

[theellipelli]

The four girls stood shaking, wrists and ankles tied with thick rope, staring out into the sea in terror. 

These were trophies from the ship we just besieged, spared a bleeding, quick death, to instead be pushed overboard so that we may watch them helplessly drown.

To say this is my favourite activity would be a lie, but to say it is my least would be one as well.

I am unsure whether or not these girls were treated well by their former crew. Their appearance is clean and the clothes they wear are pristine, so they might have been genuinely loved by their crew. But often, you can never know by how they look. 

One of them is a youngster, with hands and feet so small that the rope was almost too big to restrain her with, and is wracked with waves of sobs while the other girls try to calm her down. This is not to say they aren’t also crying; they are, just quietly.

I am standing a few feet away from them, a weight and chain in my hand and waiting for them to separate. 

Ever since a few years ago, I had begun the habit of fastening a weight to each ankle sent overboard. After the first girl I ever saw was tossed and drowned before she could reach the bottom, I made sure to always have some on hand.

One of the girls, the oldest one, with long brown hair that had been tied in a nice braid a few hours ago, sees me and scowls through her tears.

I have long since stopped pretending to be an ally. I have tried, in the past, but they never believe me. This doesn’t change much—fighting back in their position is difficult and delicate. Pretending to be an enemy works just as well.

I hold her stare until she backs down and removes herself from the child.

“Further,” I command her and nod approvingly as she takes another step away. 

Once she’s more than an arm’s reach away from the other’s, I approach her slowly, gauging whether or not she has any fight left in her.

I can see her considering it, her eyes scanning her surroundings, planning. It would be a fruitless attempt though, and she seems to realise it before doing anything rash—her head drops down and she exhales the very last hope from her lungs.

I crouch down in front of her and tie the chain around her ankle. I would much rather use rope for some semblance of comfort, but I’ve come to realize it’s both unreliable and futile. Once, a girl managed to tear the rope by sawing it with the stone attached to it, and I had to watch her drown only a meter below the surface. Since then, chains. 

I fasten it tightly around her ankle and hear her groan in pain. I try not to mind it—it has to be secure, or she might as well be dead. Telling her to, “Swim down, no matter what,” had never gone down well. This was the most certain way to help.

I stand and look at her. She does not look at me, instead choosing to stare at the chain around her ankle.

One of my crew mates hollers, calling my name, and I sigh. I grab the girl by the elbow and push her towards the railing, where the plank lies waiting. 

It’s only a few steps away, and we are there in an instant. I don’t know what more mercies I can provide in this situation, and hesitate to give her a moment of reflection, lest I make it worse. 

I move closer behind her, about to push her forward and offer my last mercy. 

“Do not thrash, do not fight. Sink. Hold your breath and swim down,” I whisper to her. “You will be alright, I swear it.”

Her head turns, just the slightest, and she gives me a confused stare. I continue through the motion and shove her forward, backing away. I can feel her stare follow me, and as I lean against one of the masts and turn back toward her, her eyes are still steady on mine.

I have found that smiling here does nothing but invoke suspicion, so I stare at her instead. Push honesty through a single, detached expression. 

I do not know if she believes me, or not. But she straightens and turns toward the ocean. Her shoulders are straight, and the way she walks forward seems almost confident. Either, she is braver than I thought, or more trusting. It could be both or neither. 

At the very end of the plank, she stops. A common sight in these situations. The rest of the girls shriek her name but are drowned by the joyous shouts and exclamations from the onlookers. Even from our ship, a good distance away, shouting and yelling can be heard as they watch from a distance. 

The girl crouches, putting two hands around the weight tied to her ankle and, with a hefty grunt, picks it up. She holds it to her stomach, unable to lift it further, and turns.

She seems to look at me, for a single moment. She’s too far away from me to gauge her expression, or whatever emotion she seems to be sending me.

Before I have the chance to step closer and see what her stare means, she turns back toward the ocean and swings out one of her legs—and falls.

She plummets, ramrod straight and holding the round weight to her body. Within seconds she makes contact with the water. The girls scream again, before devolving into hysterical sobs. My crew mates cheer and clap their hands, moving from their stations to look overboard to see if they can see her. I follow until I am pressed against the railing.

It seems that in the end, my honesty got through to her. I can see her silhouette, kicking downward with furious resolve, aided by the weight pulling her down.

She sinks for a long time, and eventually, the crowd backs away from the railing to grab one of the other girls. I stay to watch her, praying her faith in me is enough.

It’s a long distance to sink, and even the strongest swimmers struggle to make it. The weight is sometimes not enough, nor is the forewarning. 

I can see her slowing down by the minute, either from exhaustion or hopelessness, and feel my heart plummet with her. From where she is, I cannot tell how far she has to keep going, but it’s far enough a distance that she won't make it by just sinking.

Then, she startles. Her head snaps from its hung position, and she stares intently downwards, gazes travelling across the sea floor.

Inwardly, I cheer.

The brilliant lights of the city below reach her, illuminating her in glows that travel along her body in spots. She sees the streams of colourful creatures, swimming between intricate structures. She sees people, who look both alien and familiar, humans but not, creatures but not. 

Her gaze travels along the city’s expanse which stretches further than even I can see.

She rests, staring at it in wonder. Then, I can see her shake out her arms, then her legs, before shooting downwards with regained vigour. Illuminated in the city’s glow, she will be like its citizens before she reaches the ground, and she will find help.

The other girls will not need to swim as far as she did. Instead, they will be caught by her, pulled down and greeted with warmth. They will not lose hope like she briefly did, and they will be safe as soon as they hit the water.

Another holler moves me from the railing and makes me watch the next girl step off the plank. She is not tied down by a weight and stays thrashing by the surface, screaming for help at the top of her lungs.

Then, with a tug, she is pulled from the surface.

Below her is the first girl, vibrant, alive and safe. Her hair is a brilliant red, spread around her like a cage, and her legs have united into a great and powerful fin, spotted with patterns, unlike any beauty above the surface.

She is quick to cage her friend in her arms and swim her downwards to the city. As soon as she reaches the bottom she pivots, arms now empty, and catches the little girl who steps off, and then the last one, until there are no others to catch.

I stay for a bit as the rest of my crew pack in the plank and start looting the rest of the ship. I can see the girl moving downwards, swimming fast with her friend in her arms. Other silhouettes gather near the bottom and that is what finally eases me. 

I step away from the railing and take a deep breath, moving away from the starboard to see if I can find any nice jewellery to take.

Before my hand leaves the railing, a stone arcs in the air and collides with the beam just next to me, tossed from below the ship. 

My eyes follow the path and I am again leaning across the railing. The girl is there, a few meters below the surface, staring. The slight ripple of the water makes it difficult to see what expression she wears. She stays still and stares, expression a mystery. Her tail unfurls around her, weaving circles in the water.

She makes no move to leave.

I raise my head and look around. No one is paying attention to me, all too busy with what this ship has to offer. I lean back and, with caution, wave to her. 

Even without seeing her expression, I can see an immediate shift in her body, and her body shoots toward the surface. She does not break above the water, but her face lays only an arm's length from the surface. Her hair climbs upward and rests just below the water, making her look like a large spot of seaweed.

She waves, as well. She is smiling brilliantly, waving gently with one hand. 

Then, she backs away from the surface and swims home. 

You were born with special eyes, the sea was as clear as glass to you, by the time you got old enough to join a ship’s crew, you were smart enough to not tell them about everything you saw below the waves

[wjtindia]

How to Maintain and Calibrate Your Thickness Gauge Meter

A thickness gauge meter is an essential tool in many industries, from manufacturing and engineering to quality control and inspection. It ensures accurate measurement of material thickness, which is crucial for maintaining product quality and meeting industry standards. Regular maintenance and calibration are vital to ensuring that the thickness gauge meter continues to deliver precise measurements. In this guide, we’ll go over effective ways to maintain and calibrate your thickness gauge meter, ensuring it remains a reliable tool for years to come.

1. Why Maintenance and Calibration Matter

Over time, a thickness gauge meter can drift in accuracy due to factors like regular use, environmental conditions, and exposure to dust or moisture. Calibration helps restore the instrument's precision, ensuring it delivers consistent and accurate readings. Maintenance, on the other hand, prolongs the lifespan of the device, helping avoid costly repairs and downtime. Regular maintenance and calibration improve the tool’s reliability, help comply with industry regulations, and prevent product inconsistencies that could impact the final product quality.

2. Essential Maintenance Tips for Thickness Gauge Meters

Proper maintenance of a thickness gauge meter includes regular cleaning, handling, and storage practices. Here’s how to keep it in peak condition:

a. Clean the Sensor and Display

The sensor is the most critical part of a thickness gauge meter. Dirt, oil, or moisture on the sensor can lead to inaccurate readings. To clean it:

Use a soft, dry cloth to wipe down the sensor after each use.

Avoid using harsh chemicals, as they may damage the sensor or other components.

Clean the display screen as well with a microfiber cloth to ensure clear readability.

b. Handle with Care

Avoid dropping or shaking the device, as this can dislodge internal components and affect its accuracy. When not in use, place the thickness gauge meter in its protective case to prevent accidental bumps or exposure to dust.

c. Store in a Controlled Environment

Moisture and extreme temperatures can degrade a thickness gauge meter over time. Store the device in a cool, dry place, ideally in a storage case, to protect it from environmental factors. Avoid leaving the device in direct sunlight, as prolonged exposure to UV light can damage sensitive components.

d. Regularly Check for Damage

Inspect the thickness gauge meter before each use for any signs of damage, such as cracks in the casing, loose buttons, or any signs of corrosion. Addressing minor issues early on can prevent more significant problems from developing.

3. How to Calibrate Your Thickness Gauge Meter

Calibration is the process of aligning the meter’s readings with a known standard to ensure accuracy. Calibration should be done regularly, depending on the frequency of use and the manufacturer’s recommendations. Here are the steps to calibrate your thickness gauge meter effectively:

a. Prepare the Calibration Standard

Before you begin, make sure you have calibration standards, which are materials with known thicknesses. Calibration standards should match the type of material you commonly measure. Most thickness gauge meters come with calibration blocks, but you can also purchase specialized calibration standards for more precise applications.

b. Follow the Manufacturer’s Instructions

Calibration procedures vary depending on the model and type of thickness gauge meter, so it’s essential to refer to the user manual. Each device has specific calibration instructions that are designed to ensure accuracy without damaging the instrument.

c. Zero the Gauge Meter

Many digital thickness gauge meters include a “zero” function. Start by setting the device to zero before measuring the calibration standard. This step is essential, as it aligns the device to measure correctly from the baseline of zero thickness.

d. Take Multiple Readings

To ensure accurate calibration, take several readings on the calibration standard, checking for consistency. If the device is reading higher or lower than the standard, make the necessary adjustments using the device’s calibration function until you achieve consistent accuracy.

e. Calibrate for Different Materials

If you measure materials of varying densities, recalibrate the thickness gauge meter for each type. Different materials may require adjustments to maintain accuracy. Most advanced meters offer options for different modes or presets based on material type, allowing you to switch between measurements efficiently.

4. How Often Should You Calibrate?

The frequency of calibration depends on how frequently the device is used and the conditions it operates in. For heavily used devices, monthly calibration may be necessary. For tools used less often, calibrating every three to six months is typically sufficient. It’s also a good practice to calibrate the meter after any significant impact, exposure to extreme conditions, or if you notice inconsistent readings.

5. Signs That Your Gauge Needs Calibration

If you’re unsure when to calibrate, look for these signs:

Inconsistent Readings: If the thickness measurements vary despite measuring the same object multiple times, recalibration is needed.

Visible Damage: Physical damage can alter the gauge’s precision.

Frequent Use in Harsh Conditions: If your thickness gauge meter is used in environments with high temperatures, moisture, or chemicals, more frequent calibration is advisable.

6. Professional Calibration Services

For businesses requiring high-accuracy measurements, consider professional calibration services. Certified technicians have specialized equipment and can perform precise calibration to ensure compliance with industry standards. Many companies choose to have their devices professionally calibrated annually for added reliability.

Conclusion

Regular maintenance and calibration are essential to keep your thickness gauge meter performing at its best. By following these tips—cleaning and handling the device carefully, storing it properly, and calibrating it regularly—you ensure that your thickness gauge meter remains a reliable tool for quality control. Investing time in these steps pays off by prolonging the tool’s lifespan and enhancing the accuracy of your measurements, ultimately supporting better product quality and operational efficiency.

[fathimaglobo]

AAM Trading, based in Doha, Qatar, is a trusted name in industrial and scientific solutions, offering products like Air Quality Meters, Depth Micrometers, Power Quality Analyzers, High Voltage Detectors, Thermal Imaging Cameras, Pneumatic Pumps, Sound Level Meters, Ultrasonic Thickness Gauges, pH Meters, and Heat Stress Meters. Our high-quality instruments ensure precision and reliability for diverse applications.

[maniaclife1]

How to Identify High-Quality Men's T-Shirts: A Quick Checklist

When it comes to shopping for the best quality men’s t-shirts, knowing what to look for can save you time and money while elevating your wardrobe. Whether you're after everyday basics or sports t-shirts for men, quality matters. Here’s a quick checklist to ensure you pick the best options available.

1. Fabric Composition

The fabric is the foundation of any t-shirt. High-quality men’s t-shirts are often made from premium materials such as:

100% Cotton: Look for long-staple cotton varieties like Pima or Egyptian cotton for their softness and durability.

Blends: T-shirts with a mix of cotton and synthetic fibers (like polyester or spandex) are excellent for sports t-shirts for men, as they offer breathability, moisture-wicking properties, and stretch.

Organic Materials: Sustainable options like organic cotton or bamboo are both eco-friendly and comfortable.

2. Weight of the Fabric

The fabric’s weight, measured in grams per square meter (GSM), indicates its thickness and durability:

Lightweight (120-140 GSM): Ideal for layering or warm climates.

Medium-weight (150-180 GSM): A versatile choice for casual wear.

Heavyweight (180+ GSM): Perfect for colder weather or achieving a structured look.

For sports t-shirts for men, prioritize lightweight and medium-weight fabrics to balance comfort and functionality.

3. Stitching Quality

Examine the stitching to gauge the craftsmanship:

Double Stitching: Ensures strength and longevity.

Flatlock Seams: Common in sports t-shirts, these prevent chafing and enhance comfort.

Consistent Stitching: Look for even, tight stitches without loose threads or gaps.

4. Fit and Shape Retention

A high-quality t-shirt should fit well and maintain its shape after multiple washes. Check for features like:

Pre-shrunk Fabric: Prevents unexpected shrinkage.

Stretch Recovery: For t-shirts with elastane or spandex, ensure they return to their original shape after stretching.

Tailored Fit Options: Athletic fits are great for sports t-shirts for men, while classic fits work for casual occasions.

5. Color and Dye Quality

Vibrant, long-lasting colors are a hallmark of premium t-shirts. Ensure the t-shirt:

Is Evenly Dyed: No blotches or inconsistencies.

Has Colorfastness: Resists fading after washing.

Uses Eco-friendly Dyes: For an environmentally conscious choice.

6. Brand Reputation

Trusted brands often deliver consistent quality. Look for reviews and recommendations from other customers to identify the best options for best quality men’s t-shirts or sports t-shirts for men. Brands specializing in activewear often offer advanced fabric technologies tailored to specific needs.

7. Care Instructions

High-quality t-shirts come with clear care instructions, indicating thoughtful design and durability. Easy-to-follow washing and drying guidelines can extend the lifespan of your t-shirts.

Conclusion

Choosing the best quality men’s t-shirts doesn’t have to be daunting. By focusing on fabric, stitching, fit, and brand reputation, you can build a wardrobe filled with durable and stylish options. For active lifestyles, sports t-shirts for men made from performance-enhancing materials are a must-have. Keep this checklist handy, and you’ll always walk away with a t-shirt worth your investment.

[theblogs2024]

Insulation Inspector Degree Two Class: Progress Your Techniques and Improve Your Profession

As industries carry on to prioritize energy efficiency, protection, and sustainability, the need for very competent insulation inspectors is on the rise. When you are previously a certified Amount one inspector, advancing to an Insulation Inspector Amount 2 certification can be a match-changer for the career. This Stage two training course equips you Using the Highly developed abilities and knowledge necessary to regulate intricate insulation jobs, execute detailed inspections, and make certain compliance with industry expectations. During this website article, we’ll explore the details of the Level two class, what you can count on, And just how it can help you achieve new heights as part of your career.

What Is the Insulation Inspector Degree 2 Training course?

The Insulation Inspector Stage 2 system is a sophisticated schooling application suitable for professionals who've presently accomplished Stage one certification. This study course concentrates on:

Innovative Inspection Tactics: In-depth evaluation of insulation programs.

Destruction Evaluation: Determining failure factors and recommending corrective actions.

Compliance and Expectations: Mastering Worldwide specifications like ASTM, ISO, and CINI.

Undertaking Management: Overseeing insulation projects and coordinating inspection groups.

Detailed Reporting: Creating in depth and precise inspection studies.

Who Must Get the Level two System?

The Insulation Inspector Degree two system is ideal for:

Qualified Stage 1 Inspectors: Aiming to deepen their know-how and qualify for increased-degree positions.

High-quality Regulate Pros: Ensuring insulation devices satisfy field expectations.

Venture Supervisors: Overseeing huge-scale insulation jobs.

Upkeep Supervisors: Running insulation upkeep courses in industrial settings.

HVAC Experts: Searching for to develop their knowledge in insulation inspection for heating, air flow, and cooling systems.

Advantages of Finishing the extent 2 Training course

Job Advancement: A Level 2 certification qualifies you for senior positions, better pay, and even more obligations.

Increased Experience: Obtain in-depth familiarity with advanced inspection strategies and marketplace standards.

Business Recognition: Get noticed being a extremely expert Qualified in industries like design, oil & fuel, and HVAC.

Management Opportunities: Amount two certification opens doorways to roles involving job administration and staff Management.

Enhanced Desire: As industries tighten rules on Strength effectiveness and safety, the need for certified Level two inspectors carries on to increase.

What to Expect from the Level two System

System Elements:

Sophisticated Classroom Instruction:

Detailed study of insulation products, failure mechanisms, and inspection benchmarks.

Palms-On Education:

Useful sessions using State-of-the-art inspection equipment like thermal imaging cameras, thickness gauges, and moisture meters.

Circumstance Reports and Scenarios:

Examining true-globe samples of insulation failures and ideal practices for corrective motion.

Examinations:

Extensive written and realistic assessments to validate your capabilities and knowledge.

Study course Duration:

Commonly 5-10 times, with regards to the coaching service provider and format.

Conditions:

Amount 1 Insulation Inspector certification.

No less than two a long time of realistic expertise in insulation inspection.

How to Enroll in the Level two Course

When picking a Stage 2 system, consider the following components:

Accreditation: Make sure the program is identified by field bodies like NACE, BINDT, or other reliable corporations.

Teacher Experience: Try to find systems taught by experienced market pros.

Study course Content: Verify that the curriculum covers each theoretical information and fingers-on instruction.

Certification Planning: Ensure the program prepares you for the Level two certification Test.

Reviews and proposals: Investigate feed-back from earlier members to guarantee excellent and performance.

Occupation Options Soon after Degree two Certification

Finishing the Insulation Inspector Stage 2 course opens up An array of occupation options, which includes:

Senior Insulation Inspector: Perform specific inspections and oversee massive assignments.

High quality Command Supervisor: Make sure insulation units meet up with safety and performance expectations.

Venture Supervisor: Regulate insulation assignments and coordinate inspection groups.

HVAC Inspection Expert: Evaluate and retain insulation in heating and cooling techniques.

Oil & Fuel Inspector: Oversee insulation techniques in pipelines, refineries, and industrial crops.

Conclusion

Buying the Insulation Inspector Level 2 course can be a strategic move for industry experts searching for to progress their careers. This certification not merely boosts your experience and also positions you as being a worthwhile asset in industries where insulation good quality, Electrical power efficiency, and security are important. By finishing this program, you’ll get the skills, information, and qualifications necessary to excel in superior-need roles and just take your career to the subsequent amount.

Ready to advance your profession? Enroll within a Accredited Insulation Inspector Amount two course and unlock new possibilities right now!

Get more info. here: insulation inspector training

[soulonfirewriter]

Ghosts of Our Past Pt. 1 - Chapter 4

~~ Chapter 3

We take the bus through the town, getting off at the stop a few blocks down from the house. We’re walking down the sidewalk, and my legs are trembling with anticipation. I try to make conversation, to get my mind off what I’m about to do.

“So, uh… do you usually do this alone? Or do you have some sort of backup? It seems a little dangerous to be doing this sort of stuff on your own.”

Sam hesitates to answer. Then he looks over at me, with almost a sad look in his eyes.

“No, I’m usually not by myself. I have a brother who does this with me. I mean… he used to. We parted ways. It’s just… complicated.”

I feel pangs of sympathy for him. “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it anymore. Seems like a sore subject. I was just curious.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he assures me. “This is kinda my first hunt… without him. So I guess I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

Sam smiles at me, and I return the gesture, feeling much more confident than I did a second ago. I like the feeling that I’m helping him get through this, even by just being here. And I can focus on that instead of how fearful I am of walking through that door.

Soon we’re at the doorstep, and Sam shines his flashlight through the glass pane on the side of the entryway.

702 Forest Hills Drive.

My head is swirling with unidentified emotions. It’s mainly fear… and not just of the ghost. It’s of being back here, again. Where everything was taken from me.

There’s yellow caution tape all over the front of the house, so I show Sam where there’s a door that we can go in from the back porch. He positions himself to kick it open, but before doing so, he turns back to face me.

“Are you ready?” he asks gently.

I give him the go-ahead with a small nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With one swift kick, the door swings open and we’re cautiously entering the silent, dark, abandoned home. Sam takes the lead, and I am gripping the gun he gave me as tightly as ever, being careful of my footsteps in the darkness.

As I scan our surroundings, I realize I know my way around the house like the back of my hand. And everything is the way we left it since it was abandoned for eight years. It’s all so painfully familiar.

I can’t help but take a right down the nearest hallway, headed straight for my old bedroom. Somehow, it all even smells the same. Eight years and two murders hasn’t changed much, apparently.

Now, Sam is following me as I enter my old bedroom. I just stand in the doorway, looking at the empty room. I feel a bit numb, seeing it again like this. There’s a thick layer of dust on all the surfaces, and my twin bed stands cold and unused. But my eye catches on something in the glow from Sam’s flashlight.

A stuffed animal is sitting on my bed. A small, plush puppy.

“I wonder how that got there��” I mutter to myself. Sam looks down at me.

“What?”

“The stuffed animal on my bed. That’s not one of mine, so it’s not like I left it here.”

He furrows his brow. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “Positive.”

He’s clearly making a mental note of this. In his other hand, he’s holding a little device with a gauge and an antenna on it. I find myself smirking at him.

“No way. You have one of those things from Ghostbusters?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “This actually works, okay? It’s an EMF meter. It measures electromagnetic frequencies. But we’ll need to take it to the spot where you saw the ghost for it to read anything. So lead the way.”

I take a deep breath, and finally feel a sense of pressure to see the place where my mom was killed. It feels daunting, and I’m sure Sam reads this on my face, because he reaches out to touch my shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

His words are reassuring, but they only go so far, because he might be able to protect me from danger, but Sam can’t save me from a complete mental breakdown. Only I can save myself from that.

I give him a nod and let him follow me toward the living room. Intellectually, I know my mother’s blood is still stained on the hard wood floor, but actually seeing it…

I freeze up, taking shaky, shallow breaths. Here it is. The place where my world came crumbling down. Where I lost everything. Where I was stripped away from my home and forced into a whole new life, where I’d have to figure everything out on my own.

Because I was alone.

So… so… alone.

I’m sitting hunched over my mother’s lifeless form, looking at her face and not her mangled torso. Because if I don’t look at it, she won’t be bleeding out from her violent stab wounds onto the floor.

The blood won’t be pooling around her torso.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and the police are bursting through the door, responding to my 9-1-1 call.

All sounds are muffled. They’re grabbing my arms and dragging me away.

“No, don’t take me! You can’t take me from her! No!” I scream at the top of my lungs, watching my mother lie still as they rip me away.

There’s a dark figure in the corner of the room. I can’t make out much from the short glimpse, in the middle of all the action, but I can see that it’s a teenaged girl, and she’s smirking at me.

Looking right in my eyes, and smirking.

I’m gasping for breath, blinking. I just remembered something that I haven’t thought about in years.

“Well, the EMF is starting to pick up,” Sam comments, completely oblivious to my reaction. I try to snap out of it, to watch him walk around, instead of keeping my eyes on the floor.

“But it’s getting stronger over here,” he announces, making his way over to the dining area, right where the latest crime scene is. There is more caution tape everywhere, and fresher blood on the floor, with all the evidence in the area confiscated or labelled. As Sam gets as close as possible to the area, the EMF reader goes crazy, flashing and humming.

“So… the ghost was there.”

“Right here,” Sam agrees, sighing. I’m eyeing our surroundings warily, looking for a sign of anything suspicious. “But I doubt we’ll get much action tonight. We need… we need to find out what tied the two victims together. There’s got to be something…”

“We’re not gonna see a ghost tonight?” I ask, wringing my trembling hands to try and mask how shaken up I am.

“Not unless one of us is its next victim.”

“Has anyone ever complimented you on your bedside manner?” The words leave my mouth in a quip before I can process them. Sam’s eyes are glued on me, now, brow wrinkled with concern.

“How are you holding up?”

“I…” I struggle to form words for a second. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” says Sam, gently. “I think I’ve seen enough to start putting some pieces together. We gotta get you home. There’s nothing left that can be done tonight.” He’s scanning me carefully, clearly noting my physical reaction to being back in this house.

“But…”

“Come on, you’re as white as a sheet, and you’re shaking. You’re traumatized, Caroline. I should have never brought you here.”

I shake my head emphatically. “I wanted to come. It’s… not on you. I needed to face this.”

“It’s too much, too fast,” Sam argues. “We’re getting you home.”

It’s not like he has to convince me to stay. I feel pretty eager to get out of this house.

~~~

“I remembered something.”

It’s the next morning, and I’m finally feeling ready to talk about the memory that being at the house had triggered last night. I’m pressing my cell phone to my ear, talking to Sam.

“What? Like… something from that night? Something you’ve repressed?”

“Mmhmm. It was another part of that night that I haven’t thought about in… well, a long time. The police were dragging me away… and I saw someone in the corner of the room. Sam, it was a girl. Like, a teenager. And she was smiling at me weirdly. Like… somehow it was about me. All of it. I just know she was looking at me for a reason. Maybe… maybe this is about me. Not my mom.”

“But… how can that be?” Sam asks in disbelief. “I mean, then why wouldn’t she have attacked you last night, if she wants you? The EMF was being picked up, so it’s not like she wasn’t there.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I obviously don’t have much to go on. Maybe she got scared of you and your little salt gun, or whatever it is.”

I can feel Sam roll his eyes through the phone. “Yeah, well, I’ve clearly got some research to do. It’s helpful to know that you saw a girl. Maybe she has some living relatives we can talk to.”

“That would be helpful,” I reply. “You’re meeting with the family of the victim today, right?”

“Yeah. One o’clock.”

“Great. Send me an address. I’m coming.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best—”

“Oh, come on, Sam,” I protest. “I’m in this, now, whether you like it or not. And I can pretend to be a fed. I can be your intern, or something.”

“FBI agents don’t have interns,” he argues.

“You don’t know that. You’re not even a real fed.”

Sam clears his throat in irritation. “Fine. You can come if you want, but let me do the talking, okay? I’m the one with experience, here.”

“Whatever you say.”

~~~

“Hi, I’m Agent Johnson and this is my… intern.”

“Hey there, I’m Clara,” I say with a polite smile, reaching out to shake the hand of Mrs. Fletcher, the widow of the murder victim.

“Agent Thompson,” Sam corrects me, shooting me a look. “Sorry, she’s still learning.”

“Yeah, it’s actually my first day,” I admit with a sheepish smile. And then I add, in a pointed tone, “I’m going to let Agent Johnson, here, do most of the talking.”

“I just have a few questions for you, about your husband’s murder,” Sam continues, giving a sympathetic look to the woman. She nods, allowing us into her home.

“Of course, come on in. Have a seat.”

Sam and I sit beside each other on her couch, and Mrs. Fletcher takes a cushioned chair across from us, crossing her legs. I’m wearing the nicest outfit I own, the one I wore to my last job interview. Black slacks and a white silk button-up. And I’m hoping it looks normal for me to be next to Sam with his FBI badge and suit and tie.

“So, Mrs. Fletcher… you can start by telling us exactly how you came to know your husband had passed.”

She gives a grim nod. “It was Wednesday night. David didn’t make it back in time for dinner, and I was starting to wonder where he could be. The last I had heard from him was that he had left work early to run some errands. And then after speaking with the boys… there was one last place to check.”

“Which was the house on Forest Hills,” surmises Sam. “It’s a strange place to be found. Any idea why he might have gone there?”

Mrs. Fletcher gives a shrug. “That part is lost on me. We have no connection to that house. Except…”

Sam raises his eyebrows curiously. “Except what?”

“Well… apparently, my boys have gone over there a couple times. You know, just causing trouble. There are rumors about that house, how it’s haunted and everything. I never knew they were going over there, I swear—”

“Wait,” Sam cuts her off. “Your kids broke into the house? Was your husband going there to stop them?”

“No, he couldn’t have been, because the boys were at home when David was there,” she explains. “He never told me anything about it, about how he was going to that house. Maybe he just didn’t want me to worry about the boys.”

“Did your husband have any… enemies?” asks Sam cautiously.

“If you’re asking if there’s a reason David was murdered, or a suspect, there’s nothing I know of,” she tells us. “I’m sorry. My husband was a great man. A good father. That’s why this whole thing is so weird.”

Sam presses his lips together to show he understands, but I can see dejection behind his eyes. Because this means that there’s nothing to go on to solve this case.

“I guess our next move is to talk to your sons,” Sam pipes up after thinking for a moment. “Just to see if they saw anything in the house. Thank you for your time.”

Soon Mrs. Fletcher shuffles out of the room and comes back, ushering in two teenaged boys, explaining that their names are Ashton and Carson. As they enter the room, they look just like normal kids. Normal kids who thought it would be funny to break into an abandoned house because of rumors that it was haunted.

Knowing how personal this is to me, and how reckless it was for these boys, how it might have been what got their father killed… it’s infuriating to me.

“Okay, look,” Sam begins slowly, noting the guilty look on their faces. “No one's in trouble here, okay? We’re just asking what you two know about the house. This isn’t about the trespassing. We just want to know if you saw anything that can help us.”

“It’s… it’s just a spooky old house, man,” one of the boys speaks up. “We didn’t mean for anything to happen. It was just a game. We got together with some friends and dared each other to go in. It was supposed to be funny.”

“Why did your dad go to that house?”

“I don’t know, man, I swear,” the other boy tells Sam. “None of us saw anything.”

But after he says this, the two brothers share a look. I glance over to Sam, who clearly notices this.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Sam asks firmly.

“Our, um… our little brother was there, too. Alexander. He thinks he may have seen something in the house. But no one else saw it. He’s only seven,” the older of the two states.

“He’s had a hard time with the accident,” Mrs. Fletches pipes up from behind her sons. “He barely talks to anyone. I doubt you’ll get much out of him.”

I touch Sam’s arm suddenly. “Let me go try and talk to him.”

“What?”

“It’ll be better if it’s just one of us, and I think it should be me. Most kids have an easier time opening up to women, anyway.”

Sam still seems hesitant, playing it off as if he’s worried about sending an intern for this part, but I know it’s not that. It’s a question of whether he believes I can handle the situation and get the information we need.

“Sam, trust me. I can connect with him. I know I can.” My eyes are steadily locked on his, confident about this.

And he knows I’m right because he finally nods in consent.

“Alright. I trust you.”

I look to Mrs. Fletcher. “Can you show me to Alexander’s room?”

~~ Chapter 5

[insuzo]

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How to Measure Stainless Steel Pipes: Complete Size Guide

When running with chrome steel pipes, accurate size is crucial to ensure the proper in shape for precise programs. Whether you are handling plumbing, creation, or business makes use of, the right pipe length affects drift, strain capacity, and structural integrity. In this guide, we will ruin down the key methods of measuring stainless-steel pipes and give an explanation for their importance.

1. Key Pipe Measurements

Measuring chrome steel pipes involves expertise several crucial dimensions:

Outer Diameter (OD): This is the size of the pipe's outside width from one facet to the alternative. It is possibly the most important measurement, as it determines the pipe’s external profile and compatibility. The OD is constant throughout a specific Nominal Pipe Size (NPS), which allows pipes of the equal size to be interchangeable, even if they arrive from extraordinary producers.

Inner Diameter (ID): The ID refers to the distance between the interior partitions of the pipe. This size is vital for figuring out how much fluid or fuel can go with the flow through the pipe. The ID is specially vital whilst the pipe’s cause is related to the delivery of liquids or gasses. It is calculated through subtracting twice the wall thickness from the outer diameter.

Wall Thickness: The thickness of the pipe’s wall affects its electricity and stress-bearing abilities. Different schedules, which include Schedule forty or Schedule eighty, specify the wall thickness for pipes. Higher schedules, like Schedule 80, imply thicker walls able to withstand greater strain, whereas lower schedules are designed for lower-stress systems.

Length: Stainless metal pipes are to be had in standard lengths, usually ranging from 6 meters to twelve meters. Custom lengths also can be reduced depending on task necessities.

Understanding these key measurements is critical to ensuring that the stainless-steel pipes will function effectively within a particular system.

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The maximum commonplace machine used to categorize and standardize Pipe size guide is the Nominal Pipe Size (NPS) system. It provides a constant method of figuring out pipes based totally on their diameter, wall thickness, and strain scores.

Nominal Pipe Size (NPS)

Outer Diameter (OD)

Schedule 40 Wall Thickness

Schedule 80 Wall Thickness

1/4"

0.540"

0.088"

0.119"

1/2"

0.840"

0.109"

0.147"

1"

1.315"

0.133"

0.179"

2"

2.375"

0.154"

0.218"

Each NPS length consists of precise dimensions for outer diameter and wall thickness that decide its energy and suitability for unique environments, including excessive-pressure or corrosive conditions.

3. Tools for Accurate Pipe Measurement

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Calipers: An excessive-precision device for measuring the outer and internal diameters of the pipe.

Tape Measure: While generally used for measuring duration, tape measures also can assist in measuring large pipes.

Ultrasonic Thickness Gauge: This non-invasive tool is beneficial for measuring the wall thickness of pipes without slicing into the pipe.

These gears are vital for confirming that the chrome steel pipes meet enterprise requirements, making sure the protection and durability of systems in which they are used.

4. Measuring Stainless Steel Pipe’s Outer Diameter (OD)

The outer diameter of a pipe is measured using a caliper or a tape Measure stainless steel pipes for larger pipes. This dimension is taken from one periphery to the opposite aspect, throughout the thickest part of the pipe’s exterior. This size is vital for know-how how the pipe will connect with flanges, couplings, and different fittings.

For chrome steel pipes used in structural packages, along with railings or supports, the OD has to be unique, as incorrect measurements can result in flawed becoming and capability structural disasters.

5. Inner Diameter (ID) Measurement

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6. Measuring Wall Thickness

Wall thickness performs a massive function in figuring out the strain-managing abilities of a pipe. A thicker wall allows the pipe to resist more inner pressures. Wall thickness is measured using both a caliper or an ultrasonic thickness gauge, and it’s important to don't forget the time table of the pipe, which relates to its thickness.

For example, Schedule eighty pipes have a thicker wall than Schedule forty pipes, making them more appropriate for excessive-pressure applications like chemical processing or oil and fuel transportation.

7. Importance of Accurate Pipe Measurements

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When handling stainless steel pipes, precision is in particular crucial. Stainless steel is widely used in industries which includes construction, petrochemicals, chemicals, due to its corrosion resistance, electricity, and durability. Accurate measurements make certain those residences are absolutely applied, mainly to safer and greater efficient operations.

Measuring chrome steel pipes correctly is vital for ensuring the proper in shape, overall performance, and protection in numerous programs. Whether it’s for plumbing, construction, or industrial systems, knowing a way to determine the outer diameter, internal diameter, wall thickness, and length will help you select the right pipe for your task. Following this complete pipe size manual can enhance the performance of your systems and avoid expensive mistakes.

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Bottle Thickness Gauge

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