#xanhull mark

[littydoodlez]

Found this old doodle of @spaceiplier‘s Xanhull Mark. Thought I would share, enjoy!

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: Carry On

It was impossibly cold.

Mark hadn’t stopped feeling cold. Not since seeing Sean. Not since stepping foot into his ship. A sense of heart wrenching familiarity but stark shock at seeing how different everything was. Like coming home to find your parents had turned your bedroom into a study. Or a storage room.

Or a landfill.

The ship was a mess. Obvious signs of raids and attacks littered the walls. Dried blood, torn metal, sparking wires. Trash was piled in heaps in the hallways. Nudged aside to be dealt with never again. It was obvious that Sean had given up. He didn’t care anymore. It was just day after day.

Sean had muttered some apology about the mess, kicking a few boxes out of the way on their way inwards.

“Where are the robots?” Mark had asked.

“Powered down,” Sean responded. “They were getting in my way.”

They’d walked down the halls without another word. Walked until they reached a room that was surprisingly clean. Sean had left with him with a mumble of getting food, letting the door shut behind him as Mark stood there.

And he was still there. Hugging a blanket around him as he sat on the bed, staring at the opposing wall.

Mark had died and came back. The government was hunting down everyone like him to tear apart and discover immortality. The universe thought he was gone, and it continued on with its daily lives. Those in power continued to ruin lives to continue theirs. Those he loved were locked away for good. Those who didn’t know any better lived on, unaware that the lives they lived were founded in blood.

It was a strange sensation to know so much after a life of knowing so little.

Nobody talked about the quiet moments. There was so much empty space between trauma and… well… whatever came next. There were too many moments. Those quiet thoughts that grew and grew in the emptiness. The silence feeding them, letting them grow. The quiet moments were so long. They filled so much more of his story than the loud ones did

Mark would rather take the loud. Let it fill up so that he didn’t think about the memory of a needle in his arm and the lines down his back.

Loud.

Loud.

Please somebody, be loud.

But all that was loud was the thoughts, and thoughts only cared for the memory of death and the fear of life. 

It seemed so long before Sean reappeared in the doorway, but it was probably only minutes. He held some re-hydrated food, handing it over to Mark who cupped it in his shivering hands. 

“Are you okay?”

“Just cold.”

The food tasted like cardboard. It was better than nothing. 

“I wanted to ask you,” Sean started, leaning against the opposite wall from where Mark sat. He looked a little better than before. Haggard and tired, but the air of despair was gone. “You said Dark has Google. He’s using him.”

“I don’t know what for,” Mark said around the food in his mouth. “I only saw a glimpse, but it was like he’d taken what you’d made and then dialed it up to 1000.”

“That’s dangerous,” Sean said. “Google was already rampant. I was stupid back then, not putting in failsafe’s when his programming to learn would progress farther than it should. If Dark is giving him the ability to learn whatever he wants… letting him access every server he can worm into… fuck, Dark has every program and database at the tip of his fingers. He could bring down everything if he wanted too. Release all the information, or destroy it.”

“He has access to every server holding every piece of information with the Xanhull’s on it,” Mark said, realization slowly setting in. “He knows exactly how they tore his world apart.”

Memories of watching a world choke and die burned in Mark’s mind. Memories of holding the bodies… of them catching Dark… of them prying his chest apart while he hoped beyond hope that they’d just kill him… all Mark had were fragments. Madapriel had everything, and now he had proof. 

“He’s going to destroy them.”

“What exactly did he have Google hooked up to?” Sean asked. “I don’t know a lot, but I know enough. We need to know how he was amplifying Google.”

“I don’t know. Some machine, and there were cables attaching the two. Like I said, I didn’t get a good look and what I did see was just… horrifying.”

Sean groaned, hands raking his hair. “God, Mark… we were just two nobodies just a few years ago. What happened?”

“I went to Earth,” Mark said, looking down at his hands. His clean hands. “And Madapriel came back.”

For a moment there was silence. Just the two of them thinking back on those years long gone when they were just friends. It was just games then. Play the game of life and everything will work out somehow. 

Now it was corrupt and breaking.

“Where is Chica? And Henry?” Mark finally asked, filling the silence that was growing too thick.

“With a niner family,” Sean said. “I check up on them every once in a while but… I don’t know. It just hurt. Chica wouldn’t stop sitting by the door. Henry kept… Henry kept asking when Amy was coming back.”

Mark felt something already broken break a little more in his chest.

“We’re going that way now,” Sean said. “To the niners. Felix has been coming up with some big plan to break into the prison. It’s not going well but… hey, maybe with you back things will be different. You always were the one with the plan.”

“Mark knows best,” Mark laughed quietly, thinking back to missions with his crew where sometimes all they had was trust that Mark would get them home in one piece.

Look where that had gotten them.

“Get some sleep,” Sean said, taking the empty dish from Marks hands and walking out the door. “You’re going to need it.”

.

.

“Lights on. Get up.”

Amy stared at the ceiling, hands behind her head, lying on the thin prison bed. She hadn’t slept well that night. She hadn’t slept well for a year. 

It was little things that kept her awake. There was no fear of nightmares because she didn’t have any. She never remembered them. It was just the details. The lack of warmth beside her, and the silence where there used to be breathing. Those details that took away any safety she’d felt sleeping here.

And then there were the thoughts.

Twenty prisoners on her floor. All non-lethal. One guard at all times at the end of the hall. Two patrols per day. Free time for six hours. Meal time twice a day. Yard time if they earned it, and work duties if they earned it. Three guard stations between her and Kathryn. Six between her and Ethan. Eight between her and Tyler. Random searches at least twice a month. Tracking devices on the bracelet they all wore, but it only made sure they stayed within the building. Jobs heavily supervised. Three guards in each work room at all times. Always watching.

Amy was watching too.

The guard, greeting each prisoner, came by her room again. They tapped the bars, drawing Amy’s eyes.

“Get up. Breakfast in ten.”

Amy nodded, and the guard walked off. Sitting up with a sigh, Amy looked over at the wall. Etched with lines. Line after line, seemingly random in height and distance. To anyone just glancing by it looked as if Amy was counting the days. Counting to keep her sanity.

Only she knew what it really meant.

Breakfast came and went. Amy did her stretches and workout, keeping her body busy in the few hours before she’d start her work duty. She’d spent months working up to her position. Months convincing any official in this godforsaken place that she was a good, responsible prisoner. She wasn’t bad, just had a tough break with a bad boyfriend.

A bad, dead boyfriend.

She shook that thought of her head.

Mark wouldn’t want her to wallow in sadness. He’d lived his life, and he’d done his best to give a future to those who could live it. It was her job now to start where he’d left off. Keep moving and get out. 

Amy had a plan.

The hours passed and Amy finally was let out. She’d gotten a job as an errand runner. A position only awarded to those whom the prison warden trusted to be on the reform. She was stuck here for life, but they trusted her enough to walk freely enough throughout the prison. 

It had also earned her a place of trust with the prisoners.

There was more to a prison than met the eye. Deals being traded faster than liakae. Mutual promises to not stab each other in the back to get what they wanted. Amy had found herself in a position of trust, not only with the warden, but with prisoners who wanted drugs traded. Who wanted messages passed. Who wanted bandages, extra food, new jumpers, whatever Amy could get her hands on.

She was a gear ticking along perfectly to the machine running a well-oiled machine. 

The top half of her jumper tied around her waist; Amy rolled her shoulders in her tank top undershirt. Grabbing her cart, piling supplies and mail onto it, she started on her route.

It didn’t take her long to get to the person she needed to see today. The leader of the largest gang in Central Prison. 

Yancy. 

He sort of reminded Amy of Mark, in an odd way. The over the top ego. The confidence he exuded with every word. It was familiar, but at the same time so very different. Yancy was stagnant. He didn’t care about moving forwards, but only with his comfort. He cared about him and him alone.

And that was fine. Amy wasn’t one to judge. But Yancy wasn’t Mark. Not by a long shot. Just enough that Amy found herself trusting him.

“Whatsa news?” Yancy drawled, leaning against the wall, arms folded and leering at Amy as she rolled up beside him. She handed him a rolled-up towel, carefully hiding a pack of liakae. He took it. “Yous still feeling this uh little plan of yous?”

“Of course, I am,” Amy hissed, avoiding eye contact with the guard across the field. “I’ve been planning for a year. I’m going through with it.”

“Aight,” Yancy said, stuffing the towel under his arm as he stood. “Just so yous knows, that meetin with all the big shots up in Central is comin up. They be talkin about all those bigger picture things and not lookin at us little folk. Best be plannin your escapes around those big head honchos drawin all that attention if yous knows what I’m sayin.”

“Understood,” Amy answered.

“I’ll be upholdin my end of the deal,” Yancy said, eyes meeting hers for a moment that lasted far too long with far too much malice behind those glittering black eyes. “But if yous crosses me and my boys and girls, there will be hell to pay.”

“Understood,” Amy said again, meeting that malice with all of her own. Yancy smiled carelessly. He didn’t have a thing in the world to lose and he enjoyed it. Amy was the one putting her neck out there, and Yancy would enjoy seeing her keep or lose it with equal pleasure.

For a second Amy hesitated. Then, eyes darting for moment to meet Wade’s - the guard watching them across the way - she looked back at Yancy and asked, “I need a favor. Separate from the plan.”

“Oh?” Yancy raised an eyebrow.

“Tomorrow is the day that… the day that Mark died.”

“Ah,” Yancy instantly shifted his body in a way that was on the verge of being comforting, but still holding back. 

“I know it’s stupid and sentimental, but even Cosmic Criminals get a marker. I just…” Amy felt herself choking up. Taking a moment to clear her throat, she stared Yancy right in the eye, unflinching. “I want a tribute.”

“Can’t yous request that from the prison?” Yancy asked.

“Not from someone like me. Not with my record. They’ll never let me step out of this place. I need one favor, Yancy. This one thing, and then the plan, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Fine, fine,” Yancy said. He shoved one hand into a pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck. “I also has one of those long gone companions. I knows what that feels like, and it’s not sunshine and roses. I’ll make it happen for yous.”

“Thank you, Yancy,” Amy said. Throwing another towel at him, she stalked away. “Now don’t forget about the plan.”

“I ain’t forgettin nothing!”

Amy quickly walked away, avoiding Wade’s watchful eye. She knew he knew what she was up too. She didn’t care. 

It had been a year.

She was done caring.

.

.

The niner base was exactly as Mark remembered it. Nothing seemed to have changed in the year he’d been gone. It was oddly chilling as he and Sean walked through the city. Nobody paid him a second glance. Nobody recoiled from him like he was an unnatural abomination, brought back from something he should never have escaped from. Nobody cried, nobody smiled. 

They didn’t care.

Nobody cared when Icarus fell, and nobody cared when he broke the surface of the water. Burned and scarred. A testament of ego gone unchecked and torched with arrogance.

“We’re going to see Felix,” Sean said, tossing the key to his ship to a waiting worker. Behind them several niners began unloading the cargo. Mark shivered, and Sean sighed. “You’re so fucking skinny now, man. Here.” Hailing down a worker, Sean got him a jacket. It faintly reminded him of the long jacket he’d lost when they’d been captured by the GAAP. 

Too many bad memories. Keep walking.

Mark pulled it on, feeling better as the chill slowly left him. As they walked, he felt himself glancing over at Sean. He did look better. There was something in his eyes that had been voided. Something in the way he held his shoulders that had disappeared. It was back now, ever so faintly. That little bounce that Mark remembered in a younger pirate. 

Oh yeah, that’s what it was called.

Happiness.

It didn’t take much longer, but they soon reached the entrance to Felix’s lair. The winding staircases a pain to Mark’s struggling legs and lungs, but soon they were there. As Sean pushed them open, they were greeted by that masked man, antlers tall and hair reaching his waist. What was his name again? Sive? 

Sive nodded at them, wordlessly guiding them through the halls until they reached the office. He left them there with another slow nod. Those blank dark eyes seemed to linger on Mark. Looking him over. Looking into him. 

Mark stared back.

“Well fuck. Mark Fischbach, alive and kicking.”

Mark looked over at the open doors. Felix sat at his desk, a cocky smile on his face as Sean walked towards him. Behind him Marzia smiled much softer. Unlike their unchanging city, they had changed. The white hair was streaked with darker tones, and his beard had been cut nearly clean off. Marzia’s hair reached her jaw instead of her waist, and there was a new scar running the length of her cheekbone. They’d seen some shit, just like him.

“Who would have thought?” Mark joked, but there was a wince in his voice.

“I’ll admit, I’m pleased Lixian’s theory about your orb was correct,” Felix said. “I’m guessing that Xanhull had something to do with that.”

“Madapriel brought me back,” Mark confirmed. “He said he had a debt to me. Wanted to repay it before kicking me to the curb.”

“We’re glad he did,” Marzia said. 

“Enough of this,” Sean said, breaking through the small moment of reconnection. “We can talk about Mark’s resurrection later. We have friends in prison. We have a ticking clock until Dark, or Madapriel, whatever he wants to call himself, destroys the structure of the galaxy as we know it. There are Xanhulls being hunted down and tortured as we speak. We need to fucking move.”

“You’re correct,” Felix said, flicking on the screen Lixian’s animated form had once occupied. It filled with files, maps, graphs, and images. Each one of the prisons and the surrounding systems. “This is our concern at the moment.”

Mark walked towards it, eyes bouncing over each piece of information. At first it was a mess, but slowly Mark started putting together the pieces. A puzzle falling into place.

“You’ve been at this for a while.”

Mariza laughed, “Sean sure has. Throwing him against that prison over and over again. We’ve been planning. Gathering information. His reckless pursuit has yielded information, but we’ve been contacting inside men. Spies. Old allies, and new bribes. We’ve been calculating this one heist for a year. It’s coming together, and with you here, we might just be able to pull it off.”

“Are you kidding?” Mark gestured up at the map. “What you have here is a clusterfuck.”

“And that’s exactly what we need,” Felix said, templing his fingers. “A disaster, and many of them. There is no way into that prison that is not messy. There is no way to carefully hold onto my relations with the GAAP, while stopping their heinous actions and saving your friends. What we need is so many messes that they don’t know where one ends and where another begins.”

“You’re covering up the prison break in… with this?”

“Not just those,” Marzia responded to Mark, walking up beside him. “Those are just the ones that we could safely organize under the nose of the GAAP. There are some that we could use your help with. We aren’t exactly… trustworthy.”

“I’m a pirate,” Sean shrugged. “The only people who trust me is your stupid ass and our friends in prison.”

“And I’m a well-known dealer,” Felix said with a small smile. “I can threaten, bribe, and extort all I want. At the end of the day those only go so far. There is nothing stronger than what you have.”

“You have allies all over this galaxy,” Marzia finished off. “Your face is what comforted millions. Your actions have saved lives. If they know who you really are, they’ll trust you again. They always have. The words of a faceless government will never hold up to someone who has always helped those smaller than himself.”

“You want me to ask the people I used to help… to go batshit crazy against a government they have trusted for hundreds of years.”

“To put it bluntly,” Sean said. “Yeah.”

Mark looked up at the plans. It was crazy. It was insane. 

It might just work. 

“Alright,” Mark said. “Where are we starting?”

.

.

He had an hour before they were taking off for GGPS. Mark didn’t know exactly what it was, but Sean mentioned it was where he used to pick up smuggling jobs. An underbelly merc joint. Somewhere known widely throughout the likes of pirates and criminals. Though a smaller operation, Sean talked about it with found familiarity. 

He’d almost stuck up a story about the place before taking one look at Marks face and shutting down.

Mark had left quickly. 

There was one place in the niner base that Mark needed to visit. Felix had given him directions, and Mark found himself winding through the small city with steps that barely touched the ground. Rushing past species from every reach of the galaxy. Flying past them without another glance. 

It had been too fucking long since he’d seen his dog. 

Reaching the house, Mark burst inside. An elderly Nelidi woman shrieked, but Mark ignored her as a ball of green goop flew into his arms. Her whines and barks music to his ears. She twisted in his arms as he fell to his knees, trying to lick his face. Trying to run in circles around him but Mark just hugged her.

“Chica,” Mark sobbed. Fuck. She recognized him. She knew it was him. 

Chica whined, flopping over into his lap as he hugged her. She didn’t know why he was crying. All she knew was that her dad was back and he was crying, the tears sliding right off her goop.

“Y-you must be Mr. Fischbach,” the woman said. 

Mark looked up, barely seeing the woman through blurry tearfilled eyes. He wiped them. “Yeah. Sorry, I… I just…”

“I understand,” she said, still clutching her chest. “Just warn a lady, would you!”

A face appeared behind her legs. The long snout and nervous eyes of Henry, watching him. 

“Mom Amy?”

Mark’s heart broke again. Chica jumped out of his arms, running over to Henry, and then back to Mark. Trying to convey to him that her dad was back, but Henry just watched. Mark reached out his hand.

“It’s me, Henry. It’s Mark. Remember? Smelly Mark?”

Henry hesitantly stepped forwards. His nose inches away from his hand. 

“Not Smelly Mark. Doesn’t smell like Smelly Mark.”

“It’s me,” Mark said again. The tears spilling again. He needed Henry to know it was him. He fucking needed this dog - the only connection he had left to Amy, and one of the only real creatures left in this universe he loved - to know that it was him. It was breaking his heart to see Henry stare at him with that same distrust from all those years ago.

“Smelly Mark gone,” Henry said. “Mom Amy gone too. They didn’t come back for Happy Chica. They didn’t come back for Henry.”

“I’m back now,” Mark said. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

Henry cocked his head, taking one more step forwards. Sniffing his hand one last time. Mark held his breath as Henry nuzzled his fingers. 

“Not Smelly Mark,” Henry’s collar beeped. Just as Mark felt his heart shatter in a place that could never be repaired, Henry said: “Amy’s Mark.”

And with that, Henry pushed his head into Marks chest. Chica bounced up behind him, tongue out and wagging her tail furiously as she butted her way into Mark’s chest as well. He hugged them, trying to catch his breath as he cried. 

They knew him.

He still had his dogs. 

“Amy’s Mark going to bring back Mom Amy?”

“Yes,” Mark said into Henry’s fur. “I’m bringing her back.”

“Good,” Henry beeped. “Henry trusts Amy’s Mark.”

.

.

The ship was quiet.

Mark stepped aboard, a hood flipped up and a mask covering everything from the nose down, exposing only the red eyes that carefully watched each and every patron watching him. He and Sean had agreed that Mark’s identity was a secret best kept for now. The universe thought he was dead. Ghosts changed things unknown and unseen. In front stepped Sean, much more casually presented. Sam zipped around his head. Sean limped slightly; Mark noticed.

When had that started?

“Jack!” A booming voice exclaimed. Mark’s fingers clutched slightly tighter around the gun hidden underneath his cloak. They relaxed only slightly when he saw the jovial face of the owner of the establishment. Arin Hansen, arms outstretched as he walked forwards. A barrel of a man with a long blond streak down his hair. Human, like Amy. 

Mark blinked. When had he stopped thinking of himself as human? He was still human. Just not… completely. 

“Arin,” Sean greeted, accepting the handshake. “It’s been a while.”

“Eighteen months,” Arin said. “That infiltration thing, right? Hope that equipment came in handy.”

“It did,” Sean confirmed. “I found everything.” Sean’s eyes briefly met Marks. “But we’re here for some hired help. Have a certain place we’re going to need to get into.”

“Of course,” Arin gestured to the ship. “What’s mine is yours.”

And what was his wasn’t much. It felt empty. Tables were scattered about in strategically placed locations, attached to the floor along with the chairs around them. There were a few raised and lowered areas. A few poles. The smell of cleaning solution as little robots skittered around. An empty dj booth sat at the far end of the room, and the entire place was lit with dull purple lighting. This wasn’t the normal hours of operation. Only a few pirates sat about in various stages of day drinking. 

Nobody who they needed. 

“So, what kind of people are you two looking for?” Arin asked, walking with them towards the bar. His eyes looked Mark up and down before walking around the bar, picking up two glasses. Mark shook his head and held up his hand, but Sean accepted the drink. 

“A hacker, first of all,” Sean said. “Someone good at getting into a system.”

“Not you?” Arin asked.

“Someone better,” Sean said. “I’m good at getting into where I’m not supposed to be. I need someone who can get in and not get found.”

“We’ve got quite the array of hackers,” Arin said. “But uh… most have gone underground. Ever since that incident a year ago… you know…”

“Wait, what happened?” Mark asked. Arin looked at him quizzically.

“He was out on the outer rim for the past couple months,” Sean quickly covered up. “Didn’t get much news way out there.”

Arin watched him suspiciously for a moment more. “Twelve months ago Mark Fischbach was publicly executed. Nobody knew how, but moments afterwards many of the high members of the GLE and GAAP council members were executed. Their deaths led to a wave of enforcement. New council members stepped up and cracked down on the underworld. But not even the underworld. People started disappearing. Whole worlds are under heavy watch. The galaxy changed once Mark Fischbach died. It was such a small moment in the universe, but it changed things.”

His hand came up to tiredly rub his face. “Many of us knew who Fischbach was, even if we’d never met. He was someone who honestly tried to do good, and sometimes that’s all you need. It was hope for a better future. Someone who made others want to be better. And then he was gone, and along with that absence came fear.”

“It’s not just us lowlifes,” Sean said, meeting Mark’s eyes. “The GAAP is hurting everyone now. They got rid of Mark, and now they are going to get rid of anyone who stands in their way.”

Mark’s heart grew cold, and his hands burned. 

“Who are you, friend?” Arin asked. “Not that I don’t trust Jack, but I haven’t seen your eyes around these parts.”

“I’m uh,” Mark floundered. “Bum.”

“Bum?”

“Friends call me BumBum.”

“Uh huh,” Arin said, staring into Mark’s eyes. For a moment Mark was certain he’d call him on his bluff, but then he was somber again, refilling his own glass and downing it. “Anyways, hired help has been a bit sparse these days. Not many want to stick their necks out when the GAAP is so stringent.”

There was a loud BAM as the door slammed open. Mark looked over to see a woman standing there, eyes darting about. She was breathing heavily, her hair tied back. She was Velm. Wearing baggy clothing with a large gun slung on her back, she hastily marched towards Arin. Mark noticed as she came closer that her eyes different shades of yellow. Curled around her neck was a small furry creature that hissed when Mark looked at it.

“They’re coming,” the woman said. Glancing over, she flashed her teeth at Sean and Mark. “Oh, hi.”

“H-hi,” Sean said. “Who is coming?”

“GLE,” she responded. 

“Fuck,” Mark said, hands now burning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I see you also don’t want to be on their radar,” the woman said as Arin ran for the backroom. The lights turned from purple to red. Sean winced. 

“You have no idea,” Mark muttered. 

The few patrons jumped to their feet. Drunkenness be damned, their lives were on the line. A few ran to backrooms, returning with weapons. A few disappeared entirely, only for the roar of a spacecraft leaving to be heard. The woman swung her own giant gun around, facing the door. 

“I’d find some cover, if I were you.”

Mark and Sean ducked behind the bar. As the sounds of an energy gun being charged came from the woman, Mark looked over at Sean. He was shaking, and little lines of glitch were starting to creep from his eyes. 

“Hey,” Mark barked, and Sean’s eyes snapped to his. “Get it together.”

“I have everything together,” Sean said, but it wasn’t just his voice. There was another layer there. One that was serious and familiar. Another that was cruel and high pitched, delighting at the prospect of finding a foot in Sean’s mind. “We’re fine.”

“That’s fucking creepy.”

Mark jumped at the new voice. Glancing behind him, he saw an android girl. A Selachula model, with a small robot dog next to her. Eyes larger than a human and nearly completely black, a mouth full of teeth, and a tail that was more suitable for the ocean than land. Two jagged pieces jutted from her elbows, and she was dressed sensibly, if not a bit dramatically. The dog whined, covering its snout with its paws. 

“Shhh,” the girl said. “It’s okay, Spence. The weird man isn’t going to hurt you.” Grabbing a bottle, she smashed it against the floor, giving her a weapon. “You two seem new around here.”

“Grumps Party Ship wasn’t exactly dangerous the last time I stopped by,” Sean responded, ANTI’s voice absent but glitch lines remaining. 

The girl gave a short laugh. “Welcome to the new world. I’m Mika, by the way. Heard you guys got a job?”

There was no time to respond as the door was blasted open. Instantly the air was filled with the sounds of gunfire and the shouts of those charging. The woman gave off a few blasts before whipping back around the counter to find a new angle. Smoke filled the room as a stray blast hit one of the fog machines. 

“COME AND GET ME MOTHERFUCKERS!” 

With a scream, Arin burst from the backroom guns ablazing. Shouts turned to screams as the raging human tore through GLE after GLE officer. 

“Actually, yes,” Mark responded as Sean’s eye turned red. A GLE officer had reached the counter, but was met by a manic Velm. With a laugh ANTI and Sean pulled the officer over the counter. Mika’s broken bottle stabbed into the officers’ throat, and Sean pushed them back into the crowd. “We’re planning a prison breakout.”

“Which prison?” the woman with the large gun asked. Standing back up she fired a few more rounds into the crowd before ducking back down. 

“The uh Central one.”

“Are you out of your fucking gourd?” Mika asked, picking up a bottle and chucking it at a man who was just about to grab Sean. Sean whipped around and Anti slashed across his chest. “Nobody has even gotten close to breaking into that place.”

“I can do it.”

Mark looked back at the woman. She shrugged with the gun. 

“Ever heard of GGG?”

“You’re GGG?” Sean gaped at her. The woman shot a GLE officer charging up behind him. 

“Pleasure to meet you two,” she said with a hard grin. “I’m Gab. Hacker for hire. What’s the game?”

“We were uh,” Mark ducked as Mika chucked another bottle. “We came here looking for some hires. We need a hacker and any spare hands who specialize in being sneaky.”

“That would be me,” Mika said. Her mechanical skin rippled, and for a moment everything around her was blurry. It was like trying to look at a mirage. Then she was back and grinning. “I usually go for thieving jobs, but this sounds like fun. I’ve been wanting to do a good old fuck you GAAP job for a while.”

“Me as well,” Gab said, and the two girls gave a quick fist bump before separating to kill another officer. 

“YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME?” Arin continued to scream. “BITCH EAT MY ASS. EAT MY ENTIRE ASS. THIS IS MY HOME, ASS WAGON. FUCK YOU!”

“We can pay you twenty thousand credits,” Mark said, glass shattering above him as Sean threw an officer into the lighting on the ceiling. “Half before, half after the mission is over.”

“Thirty,” Gab said.

“Twenty.”

“Twenty-five,” Mika countered. 

Before they could react, a GLE officer had grabbed Mark. He tried to push them off, but their hand caught Mark’s mask. For a brief moment the officer saw his face, and it paled. They knew. Mark yanked the mask back up. Nobody had seen but the officer, but their mouth was open. Ready to call back to the others.

And then their throat was gone. A swipe of Sean and ANTI’s claws taking care of the problem. Those dangerous eyes met his, and ANTI snarled.

“Twenty-five,” Mark agreed. 

“Good enough for me,” Gab said. She slung her gun back around onto her back. “I’ll meet up with you guys at the Loom outside of Kell.”

“Can I catch a ride?” Mika said, picking up the robotic dog who was curled into a little ball.

“Sure. Later!”

The two girls disappeared into the smoke and lights, leaving the screams behind them. Mark and Sean shared a look. 

“Do you think Arin can handle the rest of them?” Sean asked.

“Sign up now at your local supermarket for the rewards card. It will save you ten percent on FUCKING GODDAMN BULLSHIT, FUCK!”

“Yeah, I think he’s fine,” Mark responded. 

The two quickly left the ship as Arin tore through the rest of the GLE officers, keeping up a constant rant of insanity until there were only bodies. As Mark and Sean flew far far away, Suzie kissed her husband.

“Want me to move the ship?”

“Yes, dear.”

.

.

“Hey!”

Amy stopped, looking behind her. Pushing his way through the crowd, Yancy ran towards her. She turned, crossing her arms. “Yeah?”

“I gots your tribute.”

“Oh,” Amy said. Her heart pounded in her ears, trying to sound nonchalant. As if she hadn’t been waiting for this for days. Yancy held out the slip of paper. Amy took it with trembling fingers. 

It wasn’t much. Just the slip they gave you upon entrance to help you find the marker. The graveyard stretched for miles. A record of every deceased citizen of the GAAP. Many didn’t visit. They had their own graves for their families back home. Their bodies laid to rest on their homes with those they loved. But there were also those that had nobody, and this was the only place that allowed them a sign that they lived. A place to have a name. 

Mark was that person, and Amy’s fingers could barely hold onto the slip that held the coordinates of his grave.

“Look,” Yancy said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I knows we ain’t close, but if yous needs anything my boys and girls can get it for ya. Nothin fancy like, but yous wants a shoulder to cry on my boy Jimmy gives some good hugs.”

“Thanks Yancy,” Amy said. “I… I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Yancy said. 

It hadn’t really seemed to hit Amy that Mark was gone. She had been used to Mark disappearing for hours and days into his own world. To Mark, his work was his life. She supported him wholeheartedly. She let him take on the universe, just as long as he let her take a piece of his. And he did as he worked and worked. Disappearing into that work and made Amy used to small moments. 

She hadn’t realized just how long this small moment had gone on. 

“Fuck,” she muttered as a tear fell. Wiping it away quickly, she smiled at Yancy. “Thank you.”

“No probs,” he shot back. He turned as if to walk away but stopped short. He whirled around to her, palm smacking his forehead. “Oh! I almost forgot.”

Amy raised an eyebrow.

“The girl I sent to yours long lost lovers marker found somethings that were a bit wonky. Some stuffs that I don’t think yous were meant to see.” Yancy dug into his pockets, looking around for guards. He pulled out another slip of paper. “My girl dug a bit deeper. She’s one of those curious types. Anyways, she finds this oddity. All prisoners whose don’t gots family on the outside have their ashes stored with the marker. But gets this. Mark ain’t got no ashes.”

“His mom and brother lived on Ventos Beta,” Amy said, but Yancy shook his head.

“Nope. Not anymore they don’t. My girl digs into that too and finds his familia has vanished. Poof. Gone. Last theys were seen was the day before Mark bit the dust. Pardon my expression. No record of ashes bein sent to them either. So my girl - name is Tiny, by the way. Sweet girl. Good with a shank - she digs a bit deeper. Finds a record of the cremation, but this thing ain’t up to snuff. Very shoddily made. Even some two bit criminal like me knows that ain’t it. So I has her look a bit deeper. Amy, I don’t knows how to say this, but they don’t have yous boyfriends body.”

“W-what?” Amy blinked.

“They had it, and then they didn’t,” Yancy shrugged. “I don’t know what to make of that, but thought yous should know.”

“Thank… thanks,” Amy said, her thoughts already a mile away. She walked past him, the marker slip still clutched in her hand. Yancy watched her leave for a moment before turning and going his own way. He’d done his part. 

Now it was time for Amy to find hers.

And the game was just beginning. 

[mythyk-art]

The @spaceiplier community really does give me inspiration.

This is my second “original alien” creation. They’re based on frogs and monkeys, and I’ll go into more detail about them under the cut.

Primary Features

- Have varying markings, usually 4 different skin colours (main, hands/ feet/ tail tip, and two striping ones head/ arms/ legs)

- Flat noses more like slits on face like voldemort

- Have a cat-like creature companion, that is mentally connected (could go into more detail how it works). They can understand each other better with some mental communication, but primarily they share each others’ sight(s).

- Colours become more vibrant as they mature

Differences M/F

- Mouth/ lips can sometimes have tooth-like formations; males tend to be larger

- Female tails are longer

- Females tend to be taller

Somewhat still of a WIP, but I’m progressing! I’ve considered that, because of their marking style, Xanhull might be able to hide/ blend in better (ex: red-lined alien above). This species is not averse to having other races live with them and share their culture.

[littydoodlez]

Soooo, the latest chapter of Spaceiplier inspired me, and I then spent countless hours drawing this. I’m actually pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so I hope you guys like it!

This is my representation of the chapter, Icarus, so yeah...

@spaceiplier

(Please do not repost, reblog instead)

[spaceiplier]

Here’s a sort of example of what the other designs would look like + similar details for the community thing we’ve got going on

This is Idubbbz, filthy frank, and maxmoefoe on the top and anythingforviews and how to basic on the bottom. Some extra info:

idubbbz is half Xanhull half human like Mark, so he has to deal with the GAAP a bit. Him and the rest of the crew all make up lies and shit to quickly get them out of any risky situations.

Filthy Frank is this new fruit bat like species that I don’t have a name for. Their eyes are real sensitive to light so he has to wear sunglasses most the time. Also their diets consist mostly of fruit and fish, but George isn’t exactly the most health conscious person so.

Maxmoefoe is another species I don’t have the name for, but they’re real fluffy, loud, and impulsive. They’ve got way better hearing then humans, hence the big floppy ears. Their diet consists basically anything since their omnivores like humans.

Anythingforviews species comes from the same planet as Jack’s, or velm, but his is slightly different. So horns and no arm spikes, instead his spikes are on the end of his tail, but everything else is the same.

Howtobasic is a, let’s say shitty, ai and so they got him for cheap, but then he started being a shit so. Basically, he threw stuff at them, mostly eggs and other food, until they bought him a robot body (also pretty cheap) and that’s kinda where he’s at now. He’s real fast, still destroys stuff, and mostly just screams and grunts to commentate but uh, they still, uhh, maybe like him?? Not like they can exactly throw him away so...

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: Icarus

Marks first instinct was to step in front of his crew. He pushed through them, coming to a halt inches away from Kivlithos. The Graeldur general towered above him. Taller than even Tyler. The top of Mark’s head barely scraped his chin. An impressive and intimidating form. A man that Mark had once trusted.

The last time Mark had seen him, he had been warm. Grandfatherly. He’d come to them, asking for help. Asking them to jump into the frying pan, knowing that soon they’d burn. Now he smirked at them. All the cards in his hands, and five GLE guards to back him up.

“Hello, Mr. Fischbach,” Kivlithos said, smiling down at him. Smug, self-satisfied jerk. “It is good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know why.”

Mark’s eyes darted down towards where Kivlithos hands were clasped behind his back. The robotic spider. How much had it recorded? How much did they know now? About Mark’s father? About Dark going after the crystal? They knew that they had agreed to stop the GAAP, but how far did the information go?

Kivlithos continued to smile.

There was nowhere to run. They could try to run back to the pod, but then what? Go back to Nihill? They’d be easily overtaken, even if they did manage to relaunch the pods. Besides, there was no way Mark would leave his dogs with them.

He felt Amy’s knuckles against his.

“I assume that I don’t need to explain the many grievous errors and crimes committed by you and your crew,” Kivlithos said. “But let me just say, you found more than we dreamed you would ever find. You even incriminated yourself for us! You and your crew really were the perfect fit.”

Tyler shifted, and every GLE officer snapped, training their guns at him. Tyler froze.

Kivlithos waved them down, smirking at his fellow Graeldur. “Oh, he won’t attack. Not when accidents can happen.”

Tyler didn’t move.

Mark wanted to get angry and punch Kivlithos. He wanted that burning rage from the past few months. He wanted to protect his friends, and he wanted this smug bastard out of his face. This was his crew, and his damn ship. But he couldn’t do a thing. He could only glare as he felt his skin grow hot.

“Now,” Kivlithos pulled out a holo-screen. It lit up with a list. “Let’s get started, shall we? Keeping a criminal from justice. Aiding and abetting a criminal and known terrorist. Lying to the GAAP, and conspiring against them. Planning to commit treason. Working with a known arms dealer –”

“The GAAP works with him too!” Ethan blurted out before slapping his hands over his mouth.

Kivlithos looked up, locking eyes with Ethan. Mark stepped between them, blocking his view. Their eyes met, and Kivlithos chuckled.

“Always the hero, aren’t you, Mark?”

Mark glared.

“Needless to say,” Kivlithos said, looking away to deactivate his holo-screen. “These are serious charges, serious charges indeed. I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you. Oh, but don’t worry. I’m sure your sentence won’t be too harsh. Thirty years in prison minimum? Possibly more, if those treason charges hold up. And as for the android,” Kivlithos looked Mark dead in the eye as he smirked. “I’m sure his creator will be happy to see him back.”

Mark didn’t register what he did next until he’d already done it. With all the force he could muster, Mark swung his fist and crashed it straight into Kivlithos smug smirk.

It did nothing. Kivlithos’s hard exterior did more damage to Mark’s hand that his hand did to his face. Still, there was some satisfaction at seeing that smile drop into absolute shock.

Before the guards could rush forward, Tyler’s own fist swung over Mark’s head, crashing into Kivlithos. Now that did damage. There was a sharp CRACK as fist connected to head and Kivlithos was sent crashing down. Dazed, and still stunned. At the same time, Amy ducked around Mark, stun gun aimed and firing. She took out two guards before Kathryn was there, tackling one as Tyler took on the other. Mark jumped in to take out the last, while Ethan began to bind Kivlithos wrists together.

Dodgy stood there as the entourage fell.

Ethan stood as soon as Kivlithos was restrained, folding his arms and glaring at Dodgy. The nervous human made a move to run, but Ethan barked out a sharp, “Hey!” Dodgy froze, and Ethan shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

It didn’t take long, but soon Mark was surrounded by groaning GLE officers, one dazed GAAP general, and a human who looked just about ready to shit his pants. Amy and Kathryn finished tying them together.

“What…” Tyler looked about at the mess they’d caused. “What do we do now?”

“Y-you committed a Cosmic Crime!” Dodgy squeaked. The crew turned to look at him. He swallowed hard, hands shaking. “You assaulted a GAAP general! You are resisting arrest. You attacked the GAAP! C-Cosmic C-Crime!”

“Tyler,” Mark said, trying to sound controlled and confident. A front was all he could manage now. Deep down, he was scared shitless, but it would do no good to show that. “Get all of them onto a pod and jettison it. Set it to send out a distress signal once we are far away.”

Tyler begin picking up officers, dragging them to the pod. Dodgy followed, uncertain where he should go but terrified to stay in the same room as Mark.

“Amy, Ethan,” Mark turned to them next. “Get the dogs, and get Bing. Make sure they’re okay. Then look through our supplies. See if we have enough to last a few weeks in dead space.”

The two took off running. Mark turned to the last member of his crew. Kathryn’s tail lashed, and her claws were digging holes into her sleeves as she crossed her arms.

“Kathryn, I need you to call Jack. Have him send us coordinates for the location of the nearest dead space, and then the one after that. Send the ship into dead space. We’re going dark.”

Her ears flicked and she took off running, pulling out her comm as she went. Soon, Mark was alone in the hallway. Nothing to show the crime that had been committed except for a few drops of blood from a broken nose.

Mark turned and started walking away.

This was insane.

Everything was happening so fast. Mark didn’t know what to think, or what he should think. Merely weeks ago, he had trusted the GAAP. Now he was on the run from them. Now he had officially committed treason, and on top of that, a Cosmic Crime. He was fucked.

But it wasn’t himself he was worried about. No, whatever happened to him happened. It wasn’t him, but his crew.

It was the dogs. Chica and Henry, who had been a constant source of love and devotion. Who had made coming home every day worth it. Chica, who brought so much joy to Mark’s life, and who had led him to friends he could never replace. Henry, who brought humor and love to everyone around him.

It was Ethan. The goofy, ever active android who had just recently turned seven. Ethan who looked to the stars with a dream of having his own ship. Who dreamed of taking his own helm and helping people. Ethan, who worked hard every day, and always made sure his friends were smiling.

It was Tyler. His oldest friend and trusted confidant. Tyler, who had saved his ass from fight after fight. Risking his own neck to stand up for what was right. Tyler, who saw injustice and jumped to right it. Who had Mark’s back, time and time again. Tyler, who had always been there with a new point of view and a few short words to get Mark back on track.

It was Kathryn. Sweet, competitive, wickedly smart Kathryn. The woman who had left behind everything to find adventure in the vastness of space. Steadily working day after day to keep this ship running smoothly. Kathryn, who was always there to challenge them to push farther. Whose claws and fangs protected them from any scuffle. Kathryn, who cared so deeply, and fought so bravely.

It was Amy. Amy… from the moment Mark had seen her – eyes alight and laugh alive as she beat the shit out of those purists – Mark had fallen and fallen hard. She was beautiful. She was smart and she was kind. No matter how lost Mark felt, she was always there to guide him home. He was so lucky to have found Amy, and he was so lucky to have her future tangled with his. Amy, who kept them organized and headed forwards. Amy, who kept his head on straight. She was so important to him.

These were the ones Mark was scared for. The ones who he had brought into this fight.

They had to make it out of this. Mark had to protect them.

With a groan, the ship began moving. Tyler appeared down the hall, moving towards him with a stoic expression. Mark barely looked up, so lost in his own thoughts.

“I jettisoned the pod,” Tyler said. He came to a halt before Mark, staring him down. “Are you alright? That couldn’t have felt good on your hand.”

“What?” Mark looked down at his hand. The moment he acknowledged the injury it began to sting. “Ow!” Mark shook it, as if trying to shake off the pain. “It’s nothing. Just a few bruises. Should be gone in a few hours.”

Tyler huffed out a small laugh, “I just realized. You heal that fast because you’re a Xanhull.”

Mark stopped shaking his hand. He looked down at it. The blooming yellow bruises under scrapped red skin. Scars curved slightly from the palms from where Madapriel had burned him. Already the cuts and bruises were starting to fade.

“I guess so,” Mark said. His back no longer itched as badly as it had been before. The markings were now stark white, and fully formed. He still felt hot, and he still felt something tugging at his chest, but for now everything had settled. Maybe his body had just been desperately wanting him to realize, and once he did the symptoms faded.

“What’s the plan?” Tyler asked as the silence between them began to grow.

Mark looked up from his hands. Right. Focus on the present. “We need to get to a dead space and lay low for a while. They can’t find us there. After that, we’ll sneak back to Nihill. At this point, I don’t care if the Barrel gets stolen if we land it there. We just need to get the others and the dogs to safety. From there we can start talking about what to do about Dark and the GAAP.”

“Is this the right move?”

Mark frowned, “What do you mean?”

Tyler held up his hands placatingly. “Look, I am all for hunting down Dark and figuring out what exactly is going on with him. I’m all for protecting him from the GAAP. Paying some kind of rectification for what my species has done. But just to look at it from the other side…”

Tyler sighed, rubbing his eyes. He looked tired. “We’re Cosmic Criminals now. That means life in prison. Death penalty is a possibility if we do anything worse. I have your back, no matter what. But them…” Tyler gestured down the hall. Towards where the rest of the crew was working. “They didn’t sign up for any of this. Can we really just lead them into this fight?”

“I’m worried about them,” Mark admitted. “I’m worried about you. Everything that has happened… everything we’ve done… I don’t know anymore. I want to do what’s right, but I should be the one to do it. Not you, and not them. This is my problem. I didn’t know any of this was going to happen when I agreed to find Dark.”

“But I agreed.”

Mark looked up. Standing there was Amy, Ethan and Kathryn flanking her. At her feet were the dogs. Chica ran up to him, tumbling into his arms with all her happy goop. He knelt to hug her. At Amy’s feet, Henry’s collar beeped.

“All right Mark? All right Mark?”

“Eventually,” Mark said, hands running through Chica’s goop.

Henry whined, “Mom Amy. Sweaty Mark.”

“I’m the one who agreed to find Dark,” Amy said. Mark looked up at her, rising to meet her gaze. She gave him the familiar, tired smile. “I’m the one who said we would help. I’m the one who made the first move, not you.”

“I’m still the leader—” Mark tried to say.

“And we’re your crew,” Ethan said. “We trust you, man. Look, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go back to my creator, or go to prison, or whatever. But I’m willing to risk it if it means helping people. That’s what we do.”

“But,” Mark said, looking around at his friends. “This is dangerous. We could die.”

“We’re headed towards a dead space spot right now,” Kathryn said, holding up her comm. “I called Jack. We’re a few hours from it, but if we go fast, we should make it. I’m not sure what we’re going to do after that - or if we should even stay together - but we just need to get to safety and then we’ll talk.”

“We’re going to make it,” Tyler said, hand coming to clasp Mark’s shoulder. “We have to.”

Mark looked around at his crew. His friends.

Determination set in. This was what he was going to fight for.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now let’s get this hunk of metal moving. We’re going to have a GAAP ship on our tails any minute now. Get moving!”

The crew scattered, running to their stations. Lingering for just a moment, Amy squeezed Mark’s hand before she was gone. One last confirmation that they believed in him. That they could survive this.

They had to survive this.

.

.

“Sure, only call me when you need something. Not like I was doing something. Not like I was having a great time, catching up with old friends. Not like I was finally getting some down time. Not like I was—”

Sean muttered to himself, angrily setting his course towards the ping of the call Kathryn had sent him. It hadn’t been long. A panicked request for a dead space zone, along with the words: the GAAP found us. Jamming buttons, and flipping switches, Sean exited the smoggy atmosphere of Nihill and set off towards the Barrel.

He was angry at Mark. He was upset at the rest of the crew. There was broken trust and remnants of a crumbling friendship between them. Words that couldn’t be taken back, and actions burned into history. What had happened then had hurt Sean, and he wasn’t going to forgive them just yet.

But he would be damned if he let them get hurt because of hurt feelings.

Sean had spent so much of his life alone. Sure, he had the robots. They had been made to be companions. Made to make him less alone. They served that purpose well, and Sean cared a lot for them. Even if they were just metal and a few lines of janky programming. The robots though… they couldn’t replace what he’d been missing.

People.

People who wanted him. Who got mad at him, and who annoyed him, and who shared moments of happiness and humor. Who shared his holidays and traditions because they wanted to, not because he programmed them to. People who watched his back because of trust they’d built together. People who were real and wanted him because he was real.

The Barrel crew had made him a better person. He’d opened up and learned to trust. He’d stopped throwing himself into destructive habits. He’d seen himself become happier. Sean hadn’t been happy for so long… when he realized he had been happy it had scared him.

The trust was gone, but the bonds he shared with his friends remained.

Those people were who he’d chosen to chase across the galaxy, and those people had asses he was going to save.

“Uh, Jack?”

Sean didn’t look up. He continued muttering, focused on what was ahead of him.

“Sean.”

“... it’s not like I said that going back was dangerous. Could have been considerate and at least given me the coordinates instead of having to hack the ping. But nooooo…”

“SEAN.”

Sean looked up.

Chase was standing there, arms folded and hat crooked. JJ bounced behind him, twirling his mustache as he moved rhythmically, peaking over Chase’s alternating shoulders. The two robots watched him scowl at them, before he turned back to his controls.

“What?” Sean asked.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure those idiots make it to the dead space zone. Obviously.”

“Oh,” Chase looked back at JJ, who gestured wildly, abandoning his mustache momentarily to make his point. A few of those gestured were swears, Sean was 90 percent sure. Chase looked back at him. “JJ does make a point.”

“JJ needs his wiring looked at,” Sean said.

“Sean, this is too dangerous. And besides, they—”

“Shut up!” Sean said, turning to face them. Chase’s mouth closed with a clack of metal against metal. He looked shocked, and for a second Sean felt bad. Then he shut it down, and shook his head. “I’m helping them. I don’t care that they broke the trust. I don’t care. I mean, I do care, but that’s not the point. I’m still fucking mad at them, but I don’t care. Not right now. They’re my friends, and I’m not going to let them get hurt. Not… not again.”

For a moment, Sean and Chase stared at each other. JJ’s bounce slowing as he looked back and forth between them. A silent stare down Sean know he was going to win.

Chase finally said, “Okay. I still think this is going to end badly, but okay.”

“Good,” Sean turned around and faced the controls. “Go get Jackie ready. We need to be ready in case this is a fight.”

In the back of his head, Sean felt something itch. A dull pressure at the forefront of his mind. The all too familiar presence of ANTI as the AI took assessment of the situation.

Slowly, it slipped away.

It didn’t take long before the Barrel appeared on his radar. A small blip, but accompanied by that signal code. It was them, and they were fine.

For a moment, Sean had a felt relief. They were okay. Still far away, but they were there.

Then that relief was destroyed.

WARNING: CRIME SCENE

The blaring red letters appeared across the screen. Sean knew what it meant. Whenever he’d come across those words, he’d turn around and run as fast as he could. Those words meant that the GAAP had caught someone. Those words were a warning to civilians incase people started shooting, but it was a worse warning to Sean.

Those words meant that they’d caught them.

Sean hit the brakes, stopping his ship. He jumped out of his seat as he hit reverse, pulling back as to not enter any GAAP radar. Striding towards the door, he shouted.

“Chase!”

Chase came running as Jack strode towards the pods. “Yes, Sean?”

“Keep the ship out of GAAP radar. Head back for Nihill if you have to.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking a stealth pod,” Sean said. “Should be enough to slip under their radar and get on the Barrel without them noticing. I’ll get on, help them, and then I’ll be back. Stay here, keep out of sight.”

“But…”

“That is an order,” Sean shot Chase a look. The robot hesitated, then nodded. He turned and ran towards the controls, while Sean reached the pod bay. He climbed inside his only stealth pod, took a deep breath, and launched.

.

.

Their engines were gone.

Mark blinked through the haze. Colors seemed to move slower than the world, smearing together as people walked before him. Sound was echoing through his skull. Bouncing from ear to ear, soft and faded. Someone was yelling, but he couldn’t tell who.

Something throbbed on the side of his neck. Mark tried to lift his hands to brush at it, but they wouldn’t move. Something was attached to his wrists, keeping them together. When had he been handcuffed? It must have been after they shot the knock-out agent at him. The little disk, now attached to his neck and slowly feeding the toxin into him.

A blue and yellow formed moved in front of him, thrashing and yelling. Someone else - a gray form - held the blue and yellow one. Yelling and moving. It was so loud that Mark flinched. What were they yelling? They were yelling at him? Why were they yelling at him?

Their engines were gone. That was what Mark remembered. He’d been in the control pit when the GAAP ship had caught up. Loud noises, and the entire ship shook as each engine and thruster was shot out. They’d drifted before the GAAP pods had come. Officer after officer.

They hadn’t been able to fight back for long.

“—ARK!”

Mark lolled his head up. His neck felt like it couldn’t support the weight of his own head, but he had to look. He knew that voice. Who was that?

“MARK!”

Amy. That was Amy’s voice. Where was she? All the colors were blurring together. Everyone was moving too fast. He couldn’t focus long enough to find her. Where was Amy? Chica… where was Chica? He couldn’t tell. His neck started throbbing again, and his head fell.

Too much.

It was too much.

Mark felt someone grab him under his armpits and start to drag him backwards. He didn’t fight. He couldn’t. There wasn’t anything left in him, and the universe was too much. Just let it happen, and the colors blurred.

.

.

There was only so fast a pod could move. Especially a heavily modified pod with several illegal features, such as GAAP radar blockers. Sean had to sacrifice speed for stealth. He couldn’t let them know he was here. He had to have surprise on his side if he hoped to do any good.

He hoped he got there in time.

The pod was small. Large enough to fit another person or two, but not comfortable in the least. Sean’s tail was curved around, and every time he moved, he bumped into something. The tiny radar set up on his comm beeped periodically, filling the space with noise. It would have been infuriating if he wasn’t so focused.

“Just hold on,” Sean muttered under his breath. “Just a little longer.”

The comm beeped again. Nothing.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

There, just on the corner of the radar. The small blip signifying a ship. Sean steered towards it, his eyes straining to catch sight of it. There was nothing spanning the black sky. Sean was almost ready to accept it was a glitch when there it was. A small dot in the empty void. As he came closer, pushing the pod to the edge of its speed, he saw the smaller ship next to it.

The small ship was smoking. The Barrel, engines shot out and tiny next to the giant ship next to it. It was a GAAP ship, engines firing up. They were leaving.

“No…” he breathed.

Instinct kicked in before his brain did. Search for heat signatures on the Barrel, send a tracker on the GAAP ship, stay out of sight and stay low. Sean positioned the Barrel between him and the larger ship, hoping beyond hope that they were on board.

Two heat signatures. Distorted with the heat of the destroyed engines, but there were two signatures on board. There was another beep on his comm as the tracker latched on, sending the location back to him. He had to be fast, but he could get on the ship, get those who’d been left behind, and then go after the ship.

“I can do this,” Sean said to himself. Reassurance? He didn’t know. He was running on fear at this point. Hands shaking, he almost wished that ANTI would take control. Make all his problems go away. But no, he had to do this. He had to save his friends.

He had to do this.

The pod docked with the Barrel. Sean was on his feet and moving before the door opened, running inside the ship. Instantly he began to cough. Smoke filled the air. Alarms blared, and everything tinted red. It was cloudy. Impossible to see through. The ventilation was off. Where the fuck did they keep their control panel?

Distantly, Sean heard barking. The dogs!

Sean felt around the sides of the walls, trying to find the protrusion that was the control panel. Where was it? He couldn’t remember through the panic. His hands frantically slamming into the walls, trying to find it. His lungs were choking, and his eyes stinging when finally, his fingers grazed something.

The panel.

He grabbed it, bringing it close to his face. Ventilation, ventilation… there! He hit the emergency back-up. Within moments, the air was cleaner. Sean coughed, trying to clear out his throat as well.

The barking continued.

Pushing himself off the wall, Sean ran into the Barrel.

“Chica!” He shouted, running from room to room. “Henry!” Nothing. The place was trashed. All of Amy’s creations tipped over or smashed. Furniture upturned and torn apart. Supplies scattered. Sparking panels, and glitching screens. Sean knew a raid search when he saw one. They must have been making sure none of the stolen information was left behind.

“Smelly Jack! Smelly Jack!”

“HENRY!” Sean yelled, turning on his heel as he heard Henry’s call. “Where are you?”

“Dumber Mark stuck!”

“Keep talking, Henry!” Sean followed the noise as best he could. The Barrel was so much bigger than his ship, and the noises were obscured by the alarms continuing to go off. Henry kept yelling, sometimes accompanied by a Chica bark. With their help, it didn’t take long before he found them.

Running into the room, he stopped short.

Bing lay on the ground, mangled and smashed. His digital eyes glitched wildly, showing two X’s. His legs were broken, and one arm was gone. The torso was scuffed and broken open in some parts. Sparks flew from his exposed wiring.

It was just like Google.

And just like with Google, Sean saw Mark first.

Nausea rose from his gut. Sean clapped his hands over his mouth, trying not to vomit. He was fine. Bing was just broken. He could fix Bing. Mark wasn’t dead, it was just Bing. It was just Bing, and Mark was okay. Captured, but okay.

He could fix this.

“Smelly Jack!” Henry ran in circles, panicked out of his mind. “Loud Mark is gone, mom Amy is gone, bright Ethan is gone, cat Kathryn is gone, silent Tyler is gone, loud Mark is gone, mom Amy is--”

“Hey,” Sean knelt next to Henry, holding out his hands. Chica rushed into them, but Sean kept them open until Henry stopped chanting over and over. “Hey, it’s okay buddy. I’m going to fix this, okay? I’m going to get your family back.”

Henry stopped and stared at Sean. “Smelly Jack get mom Amy back?”

“Yes,” Sean smiled, slowly reaching out to pet Henry. “I promise.”

Henry whined.

“Let’s get you guys out of here,” Sean stood, picking up Bing. They’d smashed his main processor. Fixable, but for now Bing couldn’t do anything. Sean hoisted him over his shoulders, and with the dogs at his feet, he carried him back to his pod.

Henry and Chica settled into the back. Still nervous and on edge, but safe now. Jack set Bing down. The robot twitched as his wiring was jostled, then settled. Sean secured him, then turned on his comm.

“Yeah Jack?” Chase answered.

“I’m sending you my location,” Sean said, disengaging from the Barrel. The pod slowly started drifting away. “I need you to come to me. I have the dogs and a busted robot that you need to come pick up.”

“What about you?” Chase asked.

Sean scowled, hand tightening around the comm. “I’m going after that fucking GAAP ship, and I’m getting them back.

.

.

The lights stopped hurting after nearly an hour.

Mark sat on the white padded table, face in his hands. The knock-out toxin had wrecked his senses. Noises were too loud or too soft. His eyes were still having trouble focusing on anything, giving Mark a headache. Even just touching his own face felt weird. As if some parts of his skin were dialed up to eleven, while others tingled and were numb.

It would wear off, but Mark didn’t know when.

He was all alone in the room. He’d only managed to catch a few glimpses of the room before he covered his eyes. White, with several lamps about. He was sitting on what he assumed was an examination table. He hadn’t caught sight of much else.

All he knew was he was fucked.

He didn’t know where his crew was, he didn’t know where his dogs were. He was in no condition to do literally anything. The only thing Mark could think of that wasn’t another point in the Mark Is Fucked pile was that call to Sean.

Sean knew they’d been intercepted by the GAAP, and he knew they were supposed to be heading for a dead space zone. Maybe he’d know they were here. Maybe he’d followed them. Mark knew that Sean always did have a hard time just leaving things alone.

Maybe… just maybe…

Mark heard the door open. A near silence whish as the door slide, allowing several beings inside. Daring a peak, Mark looked between his fingers. There were four of them. Three in white doctors’ coats, one in the familiar gray and gold uniform of a GAAP general.

Kivlithos.

“Welcome aboard my ship,” Kivlithos said, taking a seat nearby. Mark inched away, but stopped when just that option caused pins and needles to shoot up his spine and legs. “A shame you haven’t been able to see it properly. Don’t worry, the stun agent will wear off soon. Then you’ll be back to your normal, annoying self.

“Go fuck yourself,” Mark said, his mouth dry.

Kivlithos chuckled.

There were suddenly hands on Mark’s shoulders. They pushed him back until he was lying flat on the table. He wanted to fight back, but just them touching his clothed shoulders was too much. It was when they tried pulling his hands away from his eyes that he really started fighting.

“You’ll be fine,” one of the doctors muttered next to his ear. To Mark, it could have been shout. “Hey, hey… just calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t trust you,” Mark said, yanking his hand from one of the doctors. It felt like he’d ripped every hair from his arm. “Get away from me!”

It was useless, though. Soon, they managed to pull his arms down, strapping them to his sides. The strap went across his chest, keeping him still on the table. Mark kept trying to open his eyes and see what was going on, but every time he did his vision swam and the dull pound in his head got worse.

“W-what are you doing?” He asked. There was a creaking noise as something was pulled over him. Daring a look, he saw a large metal arm hanging over him, holding a rectangular scanner.

“We’re going to scan your chest,” the doctor that had spoken to him said.

“Quite a shock,” Kivlithos said, interrupting the doctor. “Learning you are Xanhull. Learning that your father managed to survive as Xanhull in the GAAP for decades, undetected. Unfortunately, all records of him have disappeared. That hacker associate of yours – Lixian – must have wiped him from our servers. Even your brother and mother have disappeared.”

Mark sent a silent thank you to the animated hacker.

“But we have you. A half Xanhull. Some might assume your kind would be rare, but we have found others. The half Xanhulls often don’t even know who they are, much like you. That makes them weak. Easy to find and catch. A shame, that no half Xanhull has retained the regenerative abilities of their parentage. Maybe you will prove to be the outlier, Mark Fischbach.”

Mark took a deep breath as the machine above him began to whir.

Noises followed. The doctors muttering to each other. The scratch and squeak of feet walking around him. The tapping of pens against holo-boards. The occasional whir as the machine started up again. As they worked, Mark’s senses started settling. He managed to open his eyes, and everything was clear. Colors were still a bit blurry, but he could watch them walk around him without pain.

A doctor – different than the first one – finally turned to Kivlithos, showing him a holo-board. “He’s like the others. See, here is the Xanhull orb. Right next to his heart. It’s too small to be able to fully regenerate a new body. I and my associates presume that it’s too small to even allow him to regenerate on his own. It has caused faster healing, but back from death? Not possible.”

Mark didn’t know if he should feel relieved or terrified.

“So, he would be useless to take in for study,” another doctor said, still not the one that had spoken to him. “We could, but it would be pointless. He is free to face the justice system.”

Was there a word that meant relieved and terrified at the same time? Because Mark was feeling that.

“Well then,” Kivlithos turned to Mark, a slightly disappointed look on his face. “I suppose you’re just like everybody else.”

“Guess so,” Mark said, trying not to show how scared he really was.

“Take him to the cells,” Kivlithos said, opening the door and speaking to a guard standing just outside. The guard came in, waiting until the doctors undid the straps. The last one – the doctor who had tried to be nice – helped him stand. His feet still felt like the floor was ice. Wobbling over, the guard took his arm and escorted him out.

Not another word from anyone. Just the silent departure as Mark was taken away.

Mark was nearly shaky with plain relief alone. His legs were wobbling, but not just from the toxin now. After every memory from Madapriel about the horrors of a GAAP research lab, he was relieved that he had avoided it. It was terrifying, knowing he had been that close to becoming a lab rat. He would have rather died.

But now he was stuck on this ship. They manipulated him and his crew into doing their dirty work, and thus breaking the law. They knew too much. They wouldn’t let them go. With a Cosmic Crime as well, they were facing life in prison.

Sean might know they were captured by the GAAP, but what could he do at this point? This was a high security ship. A battle reinforced cruiser with top of the line engineering. Sean couldn’t break onto this with a few lines of code and a homemade welder. Even if he could, he’d be caught in seconds.

The only way off this ship was in cuffs.

“Where are we going?” Mark asked the guard.

“Inner System.”

Mark frowned. “The Inner System is kind of big. Could you be more specific, pal?”

No response.

“Great. Thanks. Real talkative there, aren’t you?”

Still no response. Mark sighed, looking around. The halls of this ship were clean and white. A few janitor robots wandered, keeping everything spotless. The halls also kept a steady stream of people, walking about and doing their jobs. Some of them met his eyes, smiling. A few even said hello.

They didn’t know he was a prisoner.

Soon, the halls become emptier. They entered a lift, taking them down into the belly of the ship. Exiting there, Mark was hit with a wave of cold. It was no longer as pristine as the upper ship. Exposed pipes ran along the walls. The sounds of the engines echoed throughout the halls. The guard guided Mark through them, coming to a half before a barred door.

“Tyler!”

Tyler’s head snapped up. Relief washed across his features as he jumped up, rushing the door. The guard took a nervous step back as Tyler slammed into it, testing the true strength of GAAP prison bars.

“Mark! Oh, thank god you’re okay. What did they do to you? Did the stun thing wear off? Where are the others?”

“G-get back,” the guard ordered.

Tyler ignored him, opting to stay as close to Mark as he could.

“That is not a suggestion!” The guard barked, finding a trembling but slightly more imposing voice. “Get back against the far wall. Hands up.”

Tyler gave the guard a nasty look, backing up with his hands raised.

The guard opened the iron bars, watching Tyler carefully with a hand on his stun gun. Mark was shoved forwards, stumbling into the cell. The door shut behind him with a clang. With one final humph, the guard walked away.

Tyler was on Mark in an instant, wrapping him in a hug that should have cracked his bones. Mark squeaked, waving his hands as the air was forced from his lungs.

“You’re… killing… me…”

Tyler let go. “Sorry! I just… you were gone, man. They took you away, and we didn’t know where you went. Then they separated us. I think Kathryn and Amy are together. I don’t know where Ethan is. I’m sorry, I tried to keep us together but there were so many and I—”

“Hey,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Not your fault. You did what you could. None of us could have fought off an entire battleship. They caught us; that is nobody's fault.”

Tyler walked backwards until he hit the wall. He then slide down, collapsing in a heap. Mark had never seen Tyler so… defeated. His hands hung in his lap, his eyes vacantly staring at nothing.

“I meant it you know.”

Mark moved to sit next to Tyler. “Meant what?”

“Back when we were kids. You and your brother having all those ‘how far down the stairs can I jump down’ challenges. Or the ‘how far out the gorge can I jump’ challenges. Or the ‘how many beeys can I have on my body at one time’ challenges. Or the—”

“Okay I get it,” Mark said, shoving Tyler with a huff.

“Every time you would do one of those stupid challenges, I always ended up being the one who took you to the hospital. Didn’t matter what, but you always got the short end of the stick. Broken arm, scraped knees, and chipped teeth. I always stuck you on my hov-bike and took you to go see your mom at the hospital.”

Tyler looked down at Mark. Mark never truly appreciated just how tall Tyler was until he was right up next to him. A giant of a person, who somehow managed to look small as he talked of their childhood.

“I always told you I’d be there to take you wherever you needed to go. The hospital, usually. But I tried to always be there, and now… now I can’t.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Mark said. He grabbed Tyler’s arm, trying to reassure him. “We will be fine. I… I don’t know if I’ll get out of this, but I’m sure you and the others can. They’ll let you go. And life in prison isn’t so bad. You guys can still come visit me, and once you get out then you can go back to Felix. Either stay with him or go after Dark. You guys will make it out of here.”

“Why do you always have to be the hero, Mark?” Tyler asked.

Mark winced. “I’m not trying to be. It just keeps happening! Do you think I wanted to go to prison? No, of course not! But it’s better if I go, and the rest of you go free. I’ll plea. Make a bargain, and get you all out.”

“I won’t take that deal,” Tyler said, frowning and folding his arms. His fingers dug into his sleeves.

“Too bad, you’re taking it,” Mark shot back.

Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn.”

“Stubborn? I’m not stubborn! I’m right! The best outcome to this is that I take the fall, while you and the others make it out of here. Get new identities, or some shit. Make new lives.”

“None of us want that, you know. We came with you for a reason.”

“Yeah, well, life is a bitch,” Mark said, looking away from Tyler. He stared at the bars, remembering all those years ago. That stupid kid who dropped out of school and ran away. That person would have never thought this is where life would leave them. Yet here he was.

What could he have changed? At what moment did everything start going wrong? Was it when they’d accepted the GAAP’s offer? Or when Mark had hurt his arm, bringing Madapriel back to life? Was it when they’d gone to Felix, or was it when Mark had gotten so in his own head about his life that he’d dropped out of the academy?

Mark didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. He couldn’t change the past.

“If,” Tyler started, holding up a finger. “If, and only if, that situation plays out, then I’ll do it. I’ll take everyone far away and I’ll protect them. I’ll keep them safe for you.”

Mark swallowed, trying to keep his emotions down. “Thanks, Tyler.”

The noises of the engine slowly lulled Mark and Tyler to sleep. The day had been long, and the night was eternal in space. The future was uncertain, and the past was set into motion. All that was left was to sleep and rest before their fates were decided.

.

.

Felix watched as the robots filed into his office. Fingers steepled, he carefully took stock of each one. Even after knowing Jack for years now, he had never met his creations. He’d done a damn good job on them, considering his overall lack of training. One obviously needed a replacement core, and another was smashed, held in the arms of the tallest red robot, but a decent job nonetheless.

On leashes, held by the companion robot, two dogs accompanied them into the room. A cyborg dog, whose collared kept beeping out, “Mom Amy.” A much larger green Dulcosi bounded behind him, running up to everyone and whining.

Edgar grunted in his lap.

On the screen, Lixian’s animation was frozen, backed by the sound of frantic typing. Marzia stalked the edge of the room, talking quietly to someone on her comm. Brad and Sive walked in and out of the room, bringing information to Marzia, who would take a moment to respond to them, then continue her comm conversation.

“Brad,” Felix said. Brad looked up from where he was flipping through a holo-file, walking over. Felix leaned in towards him, gesturing at the robots. “Get them set up with a storage room, and get a mechanic for that busted one. Also, please arrange for a caretaker for the dogs.”

Brad nodded. “Will do. They also brought this message from Jack with them.”

“Put it up,” Felix said.

Brad tapped a few buttons on his comm. The screen wavered, a small box popping up with Jack’s face. The sound of Lixian’s typing paused briefly, but not for very long. Jack ran a hand through his hair. He looked hopped up on adrenaline, eyes wild and teeth bared. Soot covered his face, and a line of grease stained his cheek.

“The GAAP captured the Barrel crew,” Jack said. Behind him, the broken robot was being sniffed by the dogs. “They fucked up the Barrel. Engines are shot, thrusters destroyed. It’s drifting out around the Sceifarr 2.054 sector. Shouldn’t be hard to find, the GAAP warnings are still signaling all over the place. They left behind the dogs, destroyed the robot. Also, all their computer systems were raided and destroyed. They left behind nothing. There is no way to replace it. I’m going to go after them.”

Felix’s eyes widened.

“Call me if you want to help, but don’t try and talk me out of this,” Jack said. “I’m not coming back until I get them back.”

The call went dead.

“Sive!” Felix said, the masked man leaning back to appear in the doorway, his arms full of files. “Get in contact with the niners in the Inner System. I want all of them undercover, looking for what is going on. Civilians and GAAP, I don’t care who. All of them on alert.”

Sive nodded and ducked away.

“Brad, start bringing me schematics of every prison in and surrounding the Inner System. I also want schematics of the Justice Hall.”

“Right,” Brad said, running after Sive.

“You have a call incoming from the Hall of Representatives,” Lixian said, animation briefly coming to life.

“Pull it up,” Felix said, sitting up straight and flicking a bit of lint off his jacket. Leveling the screen with an unimpressed glare, he watched as his GAAP contact appeared. The nearly unbearable little Urashi, glowing like a dying star.

“Good Morning Mr.—” the contact tried to say.

“Why are you calling?” Felix said, interrupting. He’d worked too hard and too long to get where he was to take the pleasantries from some snotty kid who’d gotten where he was because of daddy's money.

The contact sniffed. “We are just calling to inform you that despite some recent, ah, revelations the GAAP still values your business and will not be taking further actions against you or your people. Provided, of course, that all this just blows over and none of this particular information is slipped outside these calls.”

Felix smiled tightly, “Oh don’t worry. I know how to toe a line.”

“Excellent,” the contact said. “Thank you for your business.”

The line went dead.

“I got rid of all the GAAP bugs. No little robots or tapped lines. We are free to speak without their interference now. I also hacked their system,” Lixian said as soon as the contact was gone. He was staring straight at Felix in a way that made his heart sink. There was a genuine sadness in the animation’s eyes, and a tenseness in his shoulders. The way he stared, hands still for once. It was nerve-wracking. “I found something. It… it’s not good.”

“What is it?” Felix asked.

“It’s about Mark.”

.

.

Mark lost track of the days. The meals were never at the same time, and the lights were always dim. Tyler and Mark slept in shifts, never letting the other be unconscious without someone to watch their back. Through their own system, it must have been nearly a week, but Mark couldn’t tell.

After what felt like days, they were taken to a larger cell. There, they reunited with the others.

“Are you all alright?” Mark asked, looking them over as he hugged Amy.

“We’re fine,” Kathryn answered. “Do you know where we are?”

“No idea,” Tyler said.

“You’re okay?” Mark said softer, pulling back slightly to look at Amy. She nodded, giving him a small smile.

At that moment, several guards appeared. Letting go of Amy, they faced them as they entered the cell. Each produced a set of cuffs, going to each person and restraining them. Kathryn’s reached down to her feet, not allowing her to use her stronger agility. Tyler’s were connected to a collar, keeping his arms bent as his wrists were kept near his neck.

“Where are we?” Ethan asked. “Where are you taking us?”

“Get in line,” one of the guards said, ignoring the questions. “Single file. Walk this way.”

They lined up, walking out of the cell. A few guards flanked them, guiding them down the halls. There was no one else there, the halls clear of any other life forms. Soon, they reached a port, leading off ship. Mark, taking the back, watched as they walked through the port and reached a small room that separated off in other small rooms.

“Take a room,” a guard said. “Undress and put on the uniform. Slide your clothes through the slot once you are done. Then step through the scanner that will open up on the far end. Walk through until you get to the end. Once you reach there, place your hands on your head and wait to be cuffed again.”

Mark stepped inside. The door closed behind him, the cuffs disappearing. He was left in a room with no windows. On the far end he saw the outline of a door with no handle. In a corner, a camera was pointed at him. Sitting on a shelf was a neatly folded gray suit, a pair of shoes and socks next to it.

“Mind turning that off?” He asked the camera.

No response.

Shrugging, Mark undressed and put on the jumpsuit. It wasn’t especially comfortable, obviously made for someone with slightly smaller shoulders than him. The fabric was rough, and the shoes pinched his toes. The moment he finished dressing, leaving his own clothes in a heap on the floor, the door on the far end slide open.

Mark slowly walked through. The air buzzed for a second as it searched his body, but no alarms went off. Reaching the far end, he saw the others waiting for him, already cuffed. They were already being taken away. Without him.

“Wait,” Amy was saying. “Where is Mark?”

“What’s going on?” Mark asked, looking around confused. He made a move to follow them, but a guard stepped in front of him.

“Come this way,” the guard said, ushering in the opposite direction of the others.

Panic filled Mark. He tried pushed through, trying to run after them. It was no use. They were stronger than him, holding him back as he tried desperately to reach for them.

“I’ll find you!” Mark yelled after them.

“Mar—!”

The door shut behind them before Amy could call his name.

“This way,” the guard shoved him back. Mark stumbled, giving them a glare before turning and walking where they wanted him to go. Down a tunnel until he was brought to a small cell at the end of the hall. The door was barred, but the rest was solid and blocked off.

“What’s going on? Why are you separating us?” Mark asked. He walked inside, the door shutting behind him. The guard took his cuffs off as Mark stuck his hands out. Confliction crossed the guards face as Mark pleaded for an answer.

Looking either way and seeing no one, the guard faced Mark with a wince. “You’ve been charged with treason.”

Mark blinked. “W… what? We haven’t even had a trial yet!”

“There was one held a few days ago. Smaller, with just a few representatives. I’m not even supposed to know about it. I just overheard Kivlithos talking about it. They’re charging you and your crew with treason. Since you’re the leader…” the guard swallowed. “I’m sorry. Since you’re the leader, you’ve been given the death penalty. Three days.”

For a moment the room was spinning. Mark’s knees felt weak. Nothing made sense as those words registered. The guard almost tried to jump forwards as Mark stumbled back. The death penalty. They’d tried and charged him, and he was going to die. He… he was going to die in three days.

Wait.

“What about my crew?!” Mark said, grabbing the bars. “What about them? What is going to happen to my friends?”

“They’ve also been sentenced with treason, but have been sentenced to life in prison. That’s where we are now,” the guard said. “GAAP Central Prison. They’ll be held here.”

Mark walked back, going to sit on the slab bed protruding from the wall. The guard gave him one last pitying look before leaving. Mark buried his face in his hands.

At least his crew was going to be okay.

That was what Mark focused on as he sat in the cell. His friends were going to be safe. Stuck here, but they were alive.

Mark had always known that if he was going to die, he would be fine with it. He had done the best he could, and as long as his family was taken care of then he could die and be done with. The universe was so big. The galaxy filled with extraordinary people. He was just one in billions. Sure, he had done things. Good things. He’d helped people, and he had saved lives. He had put himself on the line to make sure that he left behind a galaxy that was better than the one he had grown up in. He had done that. He’d started the cogwheels to making a better place. Others knew about Madapriel. Others could pick up where he left off. That was what Mark had told himself his whole life.

If he died, then he had done his best and he could die in peace.

But as he was faced with death, he felt scared. Perhaps it was just the anticipation. Three days to sit alone and think about his imminent demise. It was one thing to accept his theoretical death, and it was another to just die. But to sit there, knowing he would die soon and being powerless to do a thing about it… it was terrifying.

He would miss his friends. He’d miss Chica, who had brought so much joy into his life. He’d miss Tyler, Kathryn, and Ethan who had become some of his closest friends. He’d miss his mom and his brother. He’d miss Sean, and hell he’d even miss the robots. He’d miss Amy, who had become so important to him.

They were safe.

That was all that mattered.

Pulling his hands away, Mark saw that they were shaking.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He didn’t want to be scared. He wanted to be at peace with what fate had given him. He didn’t know how to stop this. It was unjust, and it was cruel, but that was just where he had landed. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Break out? How? He had no tools, no friends who could help. He was alone.

Even if Sean had seen them get caught nearly a week ago, how could he help? This prison was the highest security prison in the galaxy. Since its creation, only one being had escaped, and they had escaped because they jettisoned themselves into space, dying instantly. There was nowhere to go. The nearest planet days away. The nearest space station was GAAP, and just as high security as this place.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to go.

Mark was going to die in three days.

Three days, and he hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to his family.

.

.

Sean had begun planning the moment he had gotten the call from Lixian and Felix.

Lixian had uncovered plans to sentence the crew of the Barrel with treason, making an example out of Mark and handing him the death penalty. They hadn’t been official, but then Lixian had hacked a camera into the trial. Consisting of only four representatives out of hundreds, the trail had lasted barely five minutes as the sentence was carried out. This was a cover up, and they were moving quickly.

Sean reached the prison a day after the crew did. Two days left, and not nearly enough time or resources.

Lixian found schematics of the prison, but they were more daunting than helpful. Check-stations, cameras, heat sensors, motion sensors, facial recognition, everything. Even some things Sean had never heard of. Each prisoner had a tracker placed not only on their clothes, but even the guards were tracked. There were scheduled patrols, and random patrols. Prisoners were allowed out into the yard or kept in their cells on a randomly algorithm generated schedule. Not to mention the entire surrounding area was impossible to get into without permits and pre-scheduled visits. The easiest way would be with produce for the kitchen, or through the garbage chutes, but those were scanned thoroughly.

Just looking at the complicated mess of a floorplan, Sean felt hopeless.

That wasn’t just the worst part. He was all alone in this.

Only one niner was planted on the GAAP Central Prison. Only one, and they were a low-level guard who was mostly there to keep an eye on things. Marzia couldn’t make it in time. It would take her a week to travel there, and by that time Mark would be dead. He’d called Robin, and even he couldn’t help.

He was completely alone, and his friend was going to die in twelve hours.

“This isn’t going to work,” Felix said, setting down the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing. “I’m sorry, Jack, but we would need months of planning at least to even have a chance at breaking in. Months of infiltration, setting gears into motion, manipulating the system in our favor. Right now, we could get you inside, but that’s about it.”

“That’s all I need,” Sean said, avoiding looking at the little comm screen showing Felix.

“No, it isn’t, you idiot,” Felix said, shooting him a look. “ANTI cannot save you from this. You can’t even save yourself from this, much less another person.”

“Then what do you recommend?” Sean said, throwing up his hands. “What do I do, Felix? I cannot just watch as Mark dies. I fucking refuse.”

“I… I don’t know,” Felix admitted. “But I do know that if you go in there you will die. Then there will be two people dead.”

“Just do what we planned,” Sean said, checking his guns. “I’ll do the rest.”

Felix sighed. “I don’t want to lose a friend, Jack.”

“Then if it makes you feel better, don’t call me a friend. I’ll just be another body doing a job, and this will just be another mission.”

“You’re not…”

“Just shut up already!”

Sean was breathing hard. His hands were clenched. ANTI flickered at the back of his mind, warily watching. Ready to jump in. Sean took one breath in, and one out. Vision wavering with angry tears, he looked at the comm screen. Felix was watching him with surprise, concern, and fear.

“I have to do this.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Mark would do,” Sean said. “Stupid, impulsive, head up his own ass Mark would jump in and save his friends. Because that’s what people with friends do. They care about each other. They try and help each other. I haven’t had friends in so fucking long, and now that I have them, I have one chance to try and do this one thing right.”

“You’re not Mark.”

“No,” Sean agreed. “I’m not Mark. I don’t want to be Mark. I’m my own fucking person.  But I’ve changed. I’ve tried to change into someone better. So much of that was me. I tried to become someone better. But Mark and his crew helped. I want to be a better person, and the Jack I was when I met them would leave them to rot. I want to be the kind of person who helps.”

For a moment Felix just stared at him. Then he shook his head. “Fine, I’ll get you inside. I’ll have my niner on the inside ready with an escape pod. But that is literally all I can do with this amount of prep time.”

“Thanks,” Sean said. “Honestly. Thank you.”

Felix glared. “You make it out alive.”

Sean cocked his gun, “I’m getting us both out alive.”

.

.

The room was white. A single window at the back, showing several GAAP representatives and generals. Kivlithos among them. A camera crew was setting up across from a white chair. A doctor stood in a corner, prepping a needle. Mark, dressed in simple gray clothes, was led into the room. Hands and feet shackled. They brought him to the chair, taking off his chains and letting him sit. Once he sat, they strapped his wrists and ankles to the chair.

“Are you comfortable?” One of the guards asked Mark.

He snorted, “Am I comfortable? I’m going to die.”

The guard flinched, backing away with the other.

Mark hated that they were broadcasting this. They had to make an example of him. An example of the ones who stood at the cliffs edge and dared to fly. Don’t cross the government. Don’t make the mistakes he did.  It was a warning to his friends. It was a warning to the galaxy. It was a warning to Madapriel.

Don’t challenge them. Don’t fly towards that early grave.

“Are we ready?” The doctor asked the camera crew.

Thumbs up. The camera trained on one of the generals – a Reponere – holding a list of Mark’s crimes. They nodded, and the cameraman held up a hand.

3

2

1

They went live.

.

.

Amy didn’t look away. She owed it to Mark to not look away.

Everyone in the women's wing of the prison was watching. They didn’t know that the two women, huddling in the back corner of the room knew the man about to die. They didn’t know that Amy’s world was crumbling around her. They didn’t know.

Kathryn was hugging Amy. Amy was hugging Kathryn. They were holding each other, and Amy was staring straight ahead, watching the screen broadcasting the stream of Mark. A general on screen. He was reading off a list of crimes. Amy wasn’t listening. Her eyes were searching for Mark. Any glimpse of him.

She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

That one fact clawed at her chest. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to the one person who mattered the most, and now she was going to watch him die.

Kathryn grabbed Amy’s organic hand, squeezing it. Her cyborg arm had been taken away, replaced with a simple plastic one. It was useless. It bent at the elbow, and only if Amy moved it. A safety precaution, but Amy felt even more helpless. She had always had to fight tooth and nail for what she wanted.

Now she couldn’t even write her own name.

The charges were finishing up. Amy sat up straighter, waiting for that one last look at Mark. The general finished. The screen changed. Amy’s breath caught in her throat as sudden tears overtook her.

Mark sat, strapped down to a white chair, definitely staring into the camera. Daring his audience to pity him. Daring his audience to hate him.

Even with only minutes left of his life he was trying to say something. Trying to convey some message to the universe. He wasn’t going down without a fight, no matter how small that fight was. He was daring the universe to see him as he was, and see what had been taken from him.

Amy started crying silently, tears running down her face.

She wasn’t going to stop fighting. Not now. She was losing too much.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

.

.

Lost in a crowd, Ethan looked up at the screen.

He was all alone. His friends had been taken from him, one after another. First Mark, then Amy and Kathryn, then Tyler. One by one they were taken away until Ethan was left in a crowd of other prisoners.

He stood in the center of them, watching the screen.

Ethan had never felt jealous of an organics ability to cry. It was messy, and it was gross. Fluids coming out of multiple orifices, and heaving convulsions from their chests. Once they started it was almost impossible to stop. Ethan had been a shoulder to cry on several times, mostly for Kathryn when her world got too much. He’d never wanted that.

Mark came on screen.

He looked serious. Angry. It reminded Ethan of the time an anti-android protester had tried to convince Mark to sell Ethan. To get rid of him. That look on his face as Mark calmly explained that Ethan was his friend… it was the same face. That quiet defiance that the world he was seeing wasn’t right, and he dared it to prove him wrong.

Ethan had never wanted to cry, but now the only thing he wanted more than anything was to find some way to express how he was feeling. Just how much he wanted that physical ache organics could feel. He experienced every emotion. Every despairing sorrow. Ethan knew what he was feeling.

But that dull ache described to him by his friends… he couldn’t feel it. Even as Mark’s eyes looked into his with that determination and fear, all Ethan wanted was to feel that ache.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t made to do that. So, he watched, and wished he could cry.

.

.

CRASH!

Tyler slammed into the wall. He turned, running at the opposite wall with a roar.

CRASH!

He slammed into that one. He turned and faced the wall. He ran, repeating the same motion he’d been doing since they’d put him in here.

CRASH!

He’d tried fighting them. Tyler had tried fighting his way through every guard and wall in his wall to get to Mark. Once he’d heard the announcement, he’d turned away from Ethan and run at the guards with fury in his eyes.

It hadn’t taken long to take him down.

So now he ran at the walls, screaming himself hoarse as he tried to crush the walls. Tried hard as he could to save Mark.

CRASH!

Dents were beginning to form. Cracks running along the concrete walls. They would budge. They would break until his rage. But not soon enough. Tyler knew that. He knew that he could slam his body into a mountain and eventually, it would fall. But the years he would need to fell a mountain could not make up for the moments until Mark would die.

As Tyler ramming himself into the walls, over and over, all he could remember was the words he’d spoken so long ago. The words he’d promised Mark. A promise he’d broken.

“I really showed them, eh?” Mark asked, laughing.

Tyler started to chuckle too before he noticed Mark buckle in pain.

“Broken ribs,” Mark said, smiling tensely at Tyler. “The nanobots are still working at fixing them.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days,” Tyler shook his head, half-teasing. The other half seriously worried that Mark would one day get himself killed.

“No, I won’t,” Mark countered. “You won’t let me.”

Tyler roared.

He ran at the wall.

CRASH!

He turned, breathing hard. Tears building up in his eyes, he ran at the wall.

.

.

“Right! Right, Jack!”

Sean stopped in his tracks, turning around and going right. He had no idea how he’d made it this far into the prison. After climbing through the garbage chute, he’d somehow managed to make his way through the halls. It must be because of Mark. The galaxy was focused on this event. Guards must have been laxer.

The hallway was quiet. In the distance he could hear the jeers and shouts of a crowd of prisoners, watching the broadcast. Keeping close to the walls, he ran along them. Keeping low, keeping out of sight. In his ear, Felix and Lixian talked him through the maze of the prison.

“They’re showing Mark,” Lixian said, a forced calm in his voice. “Hurry up.”

“Guard ahead,” Felix said. “There is a vent to your left, just before the turn. Take that.”

Sean ducked into the vent, carefully taking off and replacing the cover. Once inside, he crawled as quietly as he could.

“How much time do I have?” Sean muttered, freezing as he heard someone passing by.

“Not long. Five minutes or less,” Lixian estimated.

Sean started crawling. He’d make it.

He had to make it.

.

.

“Thanks for the dinner, Wade.”

Wade smiled over at Mandy and Bob, picking up the remaining dishes alongside his wife, Molly. The four of them in his dining room, enjoying their weekly get together. “Thank Molly,” he said. “Do you think I could cook this well on my own?”

Molly laughed and took the dishes from him, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a small chocolate cake. It was a normal routine that Bob and Wade had kept up since graduating the Academy, finding their own jobs in the GAAP and creating their own families. A small get together every week to stay in touch.

It wasn’t much, but it was fun.

Before slices of cake could be handed out, the holo-screen turned on. With a high-pitched beep, the screen turned to a recording of a GAAP general, greeting the audience.

“Did you know about this?” Bob asked Wade.

Wade shook his head. He hadn’t heard anything about a mandatory screening. The general went on and on, talking about the importance of security, and how the GAAP had been founding on bringing the galaxy together. He recounted the history of the founders, going over the ideals their government was founded on. The usual speech.

“Wha…” Molly looked over at Wade, before looking back at the screen. “What is going on?”

“Today,” the general said. “We unfortunately have found a traitor. A man trusted with sensitive information, and trusted with the recapture of a dangerous terrorist. This man not only gave this information to known illegal arms dealers, but aided and abetted this terrorist in escaping arrest. He has assaulted GAAP generals and officers, committing a Cosmic Crime. Now, we do not take his sentence lightly. His actions will have ripple effects across the galaxy. To squash those that would follow in his actions, and rise up under illegal banners with intentions of attacking the peace and reducing the GAAP back to the chaos of before, we have given him the ultimate punishment. As a warning to those who he has influenced, we send out this broadcast. This man is a criminal, and the actions he has committed are heinous. Do not follow in his footsteps.”

Bob and Wade shared a confused look. Bob had managed to snag a comfortable, higher up position in the GAAP. He shook his head at Wade. Even he didn’t know who they were talking about.

Looking back at the screen, the general tapping his file to the desk, nodding at the camera. The camera changed perspective, and Wade felt his stomach drop.

He hadn’t seen him since senior year of the Academy. Brash and loud, with stars in his eyes as his hands mastered every ship he touched. Mark Fischbach, an old friend of his who had disappeared one night with only a note. They’d talked a few times over the years, but never really reconnected. He was always busy, saving people. Wade had seen him in the news a few times, each with a headline of bravery and selflessness alongside his crew.

Now he was staring at the screen, eyes boring into him with defiance. His arms and legs held down, dressed in gray. Dark circles under his eyes, and a sallowness to his skin. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. For a moment, his eyes looked off screen. A flash of fear, but then he stilled himself.

Wade had seen that look on his face. The face he used when the instructors had told him he was flying wrong, even though he’d aced every test.

“Oh my god,” Bob breathed.

The general continued to speak of Mark’s treason. Of his deception, as he pretended to help while selling secrets to the enemy. It all slipped away. Wade’s vision tunneled as he realized – that angry kid with dreams too big and a determination to take it on – was going to die.

Bob went pale, Mandy holding her mouth. Molly had collapsed in her chair, her hand a vice in Wade’s. His breathing was shallow. His chest felt tight. He was sweating, and his hands were shaking.

Mark Fischbach was a traitor, and he was being executed.

.

.

“Two minutes.”

“I know I know,” Sean said, shoving the unconscious bodies of the guards out of view of the windows, sneaking back outside the control room and looking either way. “I’m almost there. Any more guards?”

“Two outside the execution room, four inside with the generals, two inside with Mark.”

“Got it,” Sean hurried down the hall.

He was going to make it.

.

.

The whole galaxy was watching. Some with disinterest, some with hate. Some with scorn, and some with fear. Some would be crying at the loss of a friend and family member. Some would be crying at the loss of someone they had viewed as a hero. Some would be celebrating, glad to have what they viewed as a danger gone from their lives. Some would be happy, falling into the lies and believing they were safer now.

Only one watched with an interest privy to their eyes alone. An interest singular to a complex web of hate, grudging respect, and debt.

Madapriel brushed some hair from his eyes. He didn’t know why he’d let it get so long, but it reached his shoulders now. Maybe a small difference from his DNA source. Maybe just casual indifference to his appearance. He didn’t especially care. His goals were set, and he had no interest for other matters.

Mark, however… ever since the moment Madapriel had taken his DNA, he had found some hateful fascination with him. At first, it had been his creation. The union of a Xanhull and a human. Before the fall of Unohsket, a Xanhull would have never dreamed of procreating with another species. Not out of malice, or some superiority complex. Xanhulls were a close-knit community. Procreation was a serious matter, and the combination of DNA was taken with utmost thought.

To casually create a life that could not follow in its parentages footsteps was considered thoughtless and cruel. A half-Xanhull would be weak and defenseless. Doomed to fall to the cruelty of the universe.

When Madapriel had first come back he had been angry. Confused and lost in this new world that had destroyed and scattered his people. He had wanted to find control, and found it in what he thought was mercy. Ending the life of what should have never been.

Now… Mark had proved to be valiant. Obviously having been never truly taught the traditions and rights of his ancestors, but still… a person who had discovered morals to hold onto and a family to protect.

In Mark’s memories, Madapriel had found understanding. The frustration of a child, unsure of where he fit in the galaxy and a desperation to find his place. Running away from a place that was wrong, and falling into the arms of a friend who guided him to freedom.

In Mark’s memories, Madapriel had experienced the death of one of his own. Through the eyes of a child who didn’t truly understand, but with his own grief mingled with a confused boy who was losing his father. This grief, now in the heart of a man who had watched the slow death of one of his own. A death that could have been avoided, but was taken to give a future to his children.

In these memories, Madapriel now found respect for the man he had once tried to kill.

In a way, Mark had saved his life.

Not just with his DNA. Yes, his accident had brought Madapriel back. His misstep had given Madapriel the opportunity to take back what had been taken from him. Mark’s blood was now an opportunity to set in motion his plans. But it wasn’t just the DNA. It was the memories. It was how Mark had forced to him see him as a person. Alive, fighting, and ready to take on anyone who tried to hurt his friends.

It was a reminder of who Madapriel himself was.

It was a reminder that Madapriel was here to take back what he was owed for all his kind, not just those that were dead.

Madapriel owed a debt to Mark. A life for a life.

Could he truly repay that debt? Mark was on death's row. Far away, and under lock and key. Moments away from death. Could Madapriel honestly repay what he owed?

“Dark?”

Madapriel looked up from the screen. Wilford stood in the doorway, fiddling with his mustache. For a moment, a pang of regret for what he was about to do to the merc stabbed his heart. He shut it down. Wilford was a necessary sacrifice. One life for millions.

“Yes?”

Wilford coughed, “Uh, Google? That robot guy? Yeah, he found what you’re looking for. The crystal thingy. Says that if we head there now, we will be there within a few days.”

Madapriel looked back at the screen.

“Tell Google,” he said, fingers running over the vials of blood set before him. “That we may have to take a detour.”

.

.

Lethal injection.

Mark couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at where the doctor was preparing a needle. Filling it with what, he had no fucking clue, but he knew that it was bad. It would kill him. His orb was too small to withstand whatever they gave him. It would destroy him.

He looked back at the camera. There were no microphones in this room. Even if he screamed and wailed, no sound would reach those who were watching. So, he stared. He hoped his eyes would at least convey that what was happening wasn’t right. That he wasn’t going to let them murder him without a fight.

Amy…

Amy was watching.

For a moment Mark nearly broke. He knew that they would make his friends watch. He was an example. He was the leader. Don’t be like him, they would say. Don’t follow in the footsteps of a man who had everything to lose and the morals to be stupid enough to continue fighting. Don’t fly to close to the sun.

At the end of the day, Mark didn’t care.

He would stick to his morals, and he would die by them.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel regret. Amy, Tyler, Ethan, Kathryn, Sean, Henry, Chica… he was leaving them all behind. His friends and his family. They would all see him die, and that was a fate he wished he could change. Let him die alone if he must, but don’t force those he loved to see him die helpless.

He couldn’t change a thing now.

Mark closed his eyes for a moment.

He would miss Kathryn and her jokes. Her fearless determination and her wickedly smart strategies. He would miss Tyler, and his grounded morals. His opinions that made Mark think about his world, and his steadfast form watching his back. He would miss Ethan and his laugh. The way he went out of his way to make those around him laugh, and how he would talk about his own dreams that seemed so far away but were just within his grasp. He would miss Chica and Henry, the dogs who had made his life so much better. Those two puppies who brought joy and life to his day. He would miss Amy, and her love. Her steady hand, guiding him back to his goals and her hand against his.

He would miss Sean, and he would miss his family. He’d miss friends he hadn’t spoken to in years, and the people he had saved. He’d miss those he had given his life to helping, and he’d miss those long nights watching the stars.

Mark would miss living.

He opened his eyes.

What he saw before him was the end. The road paved with broken glass that he walked – fighting for every step – had finally grown too sharp. The shards cut too deep. Mark could still see more of that road. He saw a life he wanted, but here was where he could not pass.

He would miss that road, and every painful step. He would miss the smooths spots, and he would miss the rough patches. The life he had lived was one Mark was proud of. He had done what he could. Now it was time to let the others walk the road.

Mark would miss living, but he knew that this was not the end. Not the end for his friends and family. Not the end for this galaxy.

Just his end.

The doctor walked towards him, needle in hand. Pointless dread settled in his gut. Even after coming to terms with his death – even after facing the reality that this was it – Mark was scared. But being scared was what made him alive. It’s what made him important, especially in that moment. Fear and death were what kept the universe moving. Running and running until the stars exploded and lives ended. Life was precious, because life would end.

Mark hoped he had done enough.

“Any last words?” The doctor asked, tapping the needle.

Mark looked at the camera, “Can they hear me?”

“No,” the doctor said, looking at him with indifference. “Just for record purposes.”

“Alright,” Mark said, looking above the camera. Right at the generals who were watching his death like it was entertainment. Meeting the gaze of every being in that room, his eyes finally landed upon Kivlithos. The man who played god, watching as Mark’s wings burned.

Mark raised his chin, not backing down even for a moment. “Then fuck you.”

“I will… write that down,” the doctor said, taken aback.

The needle was set against his arm.

.

.

The door was there. Just at the end of the hall. Like Lixian had said, two guards waiting just outside the door. They alert, but not expecting an attack. Not from him.

With surprise on his side, Sean easily took down the guards watching the door. Silently, he darted towards them, and before they realized, he was attacking. One punch for each, and an extra kick to the head. Quickly stooping, Sean picked up the keycard and swiped it. He had to be in time.

The door beeped, and Sean swallowed to catch his breath.

The door opened.

In a single moment, Sean took in the entire scene. A window separating the room from several generals, each looking at him with shock. A camera, trained on Mark, sitting in a chair facing them. A doctor standing at his side, holding a needle.

The needle was in Mark’s arm, and the needle was empty.

He was too late.

The guards on either side of Mark raised their guns. Without hesitation, rage flashed through Sean. That pounding itch in the back of his mind enveloped him, but this time Sean was too furious to be forced away. The hatred and the anguish were too strong, even for ANTI. He was screaming with sorrow and rage as ANTI stepped into his body, leaving Sean’s hands on the controls as his eye burned red and glitch lines ran down his skin.

With a roar, Sean and ANTI launched himself at the guards. Each didn’t even have a chance to fire. Sean’s teeth sunk into the throat of one, ripping it out with a spray of blood. He was on the next in a moment, claws sinking into the guard’s skull and dragging downwards. They were dead without a chance to speak.

Blood soaking his hands and mouth, Sean and ANTI turned to the doctor. The man was already begging for his pathetic life. He didn’t have much time to beg. Sean’s hand closed around his throat. It crushed under his grip, the neck snapping instantly. Sean and ANTI dropped him, letting him crumple to the floor in a sad heap.

“Mark!”

ANTI retreated for a moment as Sean ran around the chair, kneeling next to Mark. He was still breathing. He was still looking. Sean’s claws cut the straps. He grabbed Mark’s face, shaking him.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded. “Mark, don’t you dare fucking die. Don’t you dare. I snuck through garbage for you, don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

Mark opened his mouth to respond. There was a moment where he breathed in, a sad smile on his face. Then he breathed out. Quietly, he fell limp. His eyes glazed over, staring straight ahead. No longer looking at Sean. No longer alive.

Mark… Mark was…

“No,” Sean pleaded. “No, no, no, no!”

He shook Mark, but he was gone. There was no reaction. Just a slow relaxing of his muscles as the smile faded from his face and his eyes stared vacantly ahead.

“MARK!” Sean screamed.

The door burst open. Guards ran into the room, guns trained on him. They were yelling at him, telling him to get on the ground. Telling him to surrender.

Sean didn’t even think. He just let himself fall back into that mindless rage as ANTI stepped into his body. He turned slowly, staring into the terrified eyes of the nearest guard.

He attacked.

Without thought, he tore and slashed, ripping through every breathing body in front of him. Blood covered him, but he didn’t care. All that he cared about was destroying those that had taken his friend from him. They fell. A few got a shot in, or a stab. The wounds were meaningless. They didn’t slow him down. Not as he tore through their bodies, coming closer and closer to those fucking GAAP officers, watching him.

And then he was there. Smashing through the glass. He killed them, one by one. Enjoying as they died under his hands. They had nowhere to run. He was blocking the only exist, and he had no problem killing them as they tried to flee.

He killed and killed until there was only one left. The Graeldur general. The one that had manipulated and used his friends. The one who had sentenced his friend to death. The one who now stared at him with fear, hands raised.

“Now, now,” he said, a tremble of fear in his voice as he tried to regain control. Tried to offer a pathetic excuse for his life. “Let’s talk. I can give you money. Power. Anything you want.”

“You took my friend – his friend – away from me,” he hissed, the voices overlapping each other. “The only thing I want is to see your black heart bleeding out in my hand.”

Sean and ANTI reached down as one. ANTI’s cruel enjoyment and Sean’s devastated grief merging into a single goal. They grabbed his throat, and with the other hand, clawed through his chest. His skin was thick, but they didn’t care. Tear after tear until finally Sean and ANTI held his still beating heart. With a yell, his claws sunk deep into the heart until it was crushed between his fingers.

“It’s in there!”

Sean crumpled to the ground. The adrenaline of his grief waning, Sean lost the will to go on. He’d killed, and he’d raged. He didn’t care anymore. In that moment of weakness, ANTI took complete control. What happened next was a blur to Sean. The scream of guards, the sting of wounds appearing on his body. He barely registered the gradual movement as ANTI tore through the prison.

He was too late.

If he had only been there moments before… if only he had moved faster… if only…

There was one moment of agony that nearly tore Sean from the back of his mind. A searing pain in his leg. A flash of fire and agony as something dug into his flesh, the leg screaming at him.

There was a tug.

The pain flared. And then ANTI dulled it, forcing him even farther back. Back and back, until all he registered was the darkness.

.

.

The cameras cut out just before the second guard died. Felix and Lixian knew that Jack wouldn’t leave that place until they were all dead. He wouldn’t leave until ANTI forced him too. They sat in horrified silence, watching the darkened screen.

The silence was deafening. Moments passing. Neither Lixian nor Felix found it in themselves to say a thing. What they had just seen… what they had heard through the comms, and what had been cut off as the comm was damaged, it was too much.

“The GAAP has started a war,” Felix said quietly, almost to himself. “Whether they know it or not, this is a war.”

In the resounding silence of Felix’s statement, Lixian said nothing. Moments ticked by as they watched the blackened screen. Then, as a small alert came up on his screen, he said, “Jack made it out. Niner got him into a pod. He’s badly hurt.”

“I have a niner nearby,” Felix said. “Send them to pick him up and treat him. Bring him here.”

Lixian nodded. Suddenly, there was a sharp PING as something came across Lixian’s alerts. He jumped into action, typing and muttering.

“What is it?” Felix asked.

“Someone else just hacked into the prison!” Lixian said. “I… I can’t explain it. It’s like the system just turned against itself, but it is someone. They’re too much, I can’t get control back!”

For a moment, the screen showed Lixian, animation jolting in stuttered motions as he frantically tried to regain control. Then he was gone, and the screen was replaced by a large blue, red, yellow, and green G.

.

.

Perfect distraction, that AI was. A reckless program, tearing its way through the prison drawing all attention to it. Alarms blaring, system shutting down. Undetected as Madapriel’s own perfect machine took control. An evolved and better version of what it used to be. Now, able to learn and take control. He walked down the halls, not even bothering to shield himself from cameras. They were all erased. They were all off. The GAAP would never know he was here.

Down the halls, twisting and winding his way until he reached a room washed in red.

He stepped inside. Bodies lay everywhere. Torn apart in an obvious attempt at revenge. Oh, how senseless and sloppy. Understandable, but inelegant. A hurried decision to destroy what was in its path.

Sitting slumped over in the chair, eyes staring straight ahead, was Mark.

Madapriel came to stand next to him. His hand grabbed the top of Mark’s head, lifting it to stare into his lifeless eyes. He was too late. How regretful.

“Red eyes,” Madapriel said, staring as Mark’s true Xanhull eyes slowly revealed themselves as his body shut down. “Even in death, you still find some way to piss me off.”

There was no reply. Just the drip of blood, and distant blare of alarms.

“Still,” Madapriel said, letting go. Mark’s head fell. A reminder of every dead Xanhull staining the GAAP. Yet another reminder of what he was here to accomplish. “I still have a debt, and I have a duty. The GAAP shall never lay their hands on our kind ever again.”

Kneeling, Madapriel gathered Mark into his arms. With little effort, he stood and turned to the door. Stepping over bodies, making his way back through the halls, Madapriel took away Mark’s body.

The GAAP had taken enough from them.

It was time he took it back.

TO BE CONTINUED

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: One by One

She was crying.

Madapriel frowned, arms folded as the door slammed open. The woman stood there, chest heaving and tears carving paths through the dirt covering her face. Two curved daggers were clenched in white knuckled hands. She stared at her with hate. Her small frame shook. The door closed behind her.

She was unbalanced.

She was tired.

This would be easy.

“Did you hurt him?” she spat. She staggered forwards, her footing uncertain. She wasn’t watching Madapriel's hands. She wasn’t watching the knife sitting on the desk next to her. She was watching her eyes, and in doing so, watched what she should have ignored. Emotions. “Did you… did you kill him?”

Madapriel sighed.

“Answer me!” she said, throwing one of her knives. It lodged itself with a thunk into the wall behind her, grazing her cheek. Madapriel reached up to touch it. Fingers came away with a thin layer of blood. Even unstable and exhausted, she was dangerous.

She would be a good addition to Madapriel’s finality.

Carefully reaching into her pocket, Madapriel pulled out the vial of blood. The faintest blue glow surrounding it.

The woman’s eyes locked onto it.

Recognition flashed across her features. A slight parting of her lips, and a widening of her eyes. Then, it was gone in a burst of fury.

There were no words. Not even a scream of rage. One moment she stood there, and the next she was running forwards. Her hand was coming down, knife posed to stab her. In any other situation, Madapriel would have been dead. This form of hers would have been slain by such a formidable opponent. But today was different.

Today, emotions had come into play.

Oh, sweet little girl. Didn’t they teach you? Your love will only kill you.

Madapriel reached up, grabbing her wrist. With a sharp twist, her hand was redirected. The knife no longer aimed at Madapriel’s chest, but at hers. Her eyes widened, but there was no time to stop what had been put into motion. With a shove, the knife sunk into her heart.

She screamed, but it was choked.

Madapriel drew the knife out and, with certainty, stabbed the organ in her gut that would finish her off.

The woman clutched at her, a mixture of hatred and fear in her eyes.

“You look tired,” Madapriel said, smiling as she lowered the woman to the floor. It was almost kind. This woman was worn to her end. She had been used, and had used. She could rest now. She could stop this pointless fight. “Why don’t you go to sleep?”

A pulse of red light.

She stopped breathing.

Blood covered Madapriel’s hands. A perfect sample. Standing, she walked to the door and pushed it open. It creaked. Hand slipping inside her pocket, she selected the empty vial next to the blue one. Then, she let the blood pool in her palm and slip inside.

Where she had left him, the one who she had first taken from lay there in the arms of yet another one of those militia beings. Pink, this time. He was clutching at him, staring at her with fear and shock. As if he couldn’t understand what was happening to him.

She could see the cracks forming.

A mercenary who cared? How interesting… and so easily used.

Madapriel walked forwards, slipping the vial into her pocket. “Huh,” she said, voice soft and curious. “I assumed your kind were murderers. Yet you try to save him? Strange. You have a heart.”

“Fuck off,” the pink one spat, his compatriot wheezing his final breaths in his arms.

She smiled, and kept walking.

One.

.

.

Dark.

Drifting.

Cold.

No sound, and no smells. Nothing to sense. Only a floating feeling as Madapriel waited.

Sleeping.

Awake.

Waiting.

There was something muted. Warm, and full. It sunk into him. He started changing. Absorbing. Taking in the DNA and making it his own. He knew this DNA. They’d forced it on him many times. Human. The living code for the species doomed to destroyed themselves on this dying planet. There was something off about it.

The human part he knew.

But also knew this. This code of a species all too familiar. What was it?

Half-breed did not bother Madapriel. Those other species that found love in others was what it was. A motivation for species to spread across the galaxy, forming homes and lives wherever they might. Madapriel did not concern himself with the workings of others personal existence. He didn’t not care to insert himself into the lives of those species he only touched upon momentarily. But this… this brought a sour feeling. This DNA.

Xanhull DNA.

A Xanhull who had mated outside of their own kind.

Hatred curled in Madapriel. Hatred at the GAAP for destroying his home, and his people’s traditions. Their way of living had been eradicated. All out of fear and personal gain. How disgusting. His home was gone, and so were the values held so close to him. And now beings like this walked the galaxy.

As Madapriel reformed, he felt a tug at the back of his mind.

Kill the gret. Give it mercy. Find some sort of control. Restore some kind of sense of right into his world.

Then – and only then – could he continue.

Two.

.

.

The heart had gone bad.

The DNA Madapriel had been planning on using was useless. He would have to replace it, and soon. Not a problem, but the species would be an issue. Such a warrior race, and so powerful in their abilities, it would be a harrowing battle to regain the DNA he had lost.

Outside, he could hear Mark and his crew. Talking and laughing about a mission they had just completed. He couldn’t let them come along. They would only get in his way. They didn’t need to know what his true intentions were.

Mark…

The longer Madapriel stayed around him, the angrier he got. It was obvious his Xanhull parent had taught him nothing of their traditions. Of their way of life. He surrounded himself with a ‘family’ that he showed obvious strong emotional attachment too. He kept animals with him that he loved. Animals! Creatures only there for him to care for, and not for food or any other usage than love.

Mark was wrong.

It would bring Madapriel great joy to snuff the life out of him.

Madapriel closed the upper part of the cabinet. Inclosing the DNA that he would use to assume his finality. The DNA of those two mercenaries, kept safe. The rotten heart, he tossed into the incinerator. Opening his comm, he located the home planet of this species. About a weeks travel.

Perfect.

.

.

“You… you want what?”

Madapriel sighed. The sun was beating down, and making his dark suit uncomfortably warm. The scent of hot earth and the sickly sweet horvu fruit, native to the planet, saturated the air. “Your DNA. Blood, hair, spit… doesn’t really matter. Though I would prefer the blood.”

The young Niokonge shook his head. “Sir, I…”

How the galaxy had changed since the eradication of Unohsket. Madapriel nearly felt a sting of nostalgia for the old days where a Xanhull asking for your DNA was an honor. You, out of everyone, were chosen to share your form with another. A being who had sworn to uphold values and codes of honor, and share diplomacy across the galaxy.

Now it was lost to the razed history of his forefathers.

“Do you want credits?” Madapriel interrupted, tired of the young whelp’s indecision. “I can compensate you for your cooperation.”

“I don’t need credits,” the Niokonge said, continuing to shake his head. Madapriel feared it would shake itself off. “I… I just got hired on as a district attorney, and I… wait, why do you want my blood? That’s really weird.”

“Your bloodline’s record is impressive,” Madapriel said. “You shall prove to be a strong addition to my finality. As well, your abilities are something I have always admired. The ability to transform kinetic energy to electricity. A valuable asset.”

“T-thanks,” he said. “Uh…”

Madapriel wanted off this damned planet. It was growing near midday, and the heat and stench was unbearable. The human senses were always an adjustment. So naturally attuned to their surroundings. The perfect blend of predator and prey.

The young Niokonge shuffled their feet. Only just cresting adulthood, he was smaller than the average Niokonge. But what he lacked in physical form, he made up for in intelligence and adaptability. A strength coming from his kinetic abilities. Madapriel had caught him leaving work, and they stood in a corner of the street. Their voices hidden under the noise of crowds leaving for home. Hidden under the rumble of kinetic powered vehicles humming down the street.

His eyes darted about. Gold and intelligent.

It would be a shame to tear them out if he refused to cooperate.

“Look, will you leave me alone if I just give you some hair?”

Madapriel nodded.

The young Niokonge reached up and tugged a few strands of blond hair out. He handed them over, warily watching him. Madapriel took them and tucked them into a small vial.

“Thank you,” Madapriel said.

And with that he turned and walked into the crowd.

Three.

.

.

The black skies of Nihill. Oh, how they never changed. Nothing changed on Nihill. Not since the first credit hungry pirate had stepped foot on this forgotten moon. The same endless cycle of greed, crime, and debauchery. Madapriel had never visited Nihill before Unohsket was destroyed, but afterwards… oh, it was heaven to those of his kind who had nowhere else to run.

New identities. New faces. Endless choices of DNA.

This is where the Xanhull race had survived.

He frowned slightly as he stopped, staring at a young woman carrying a small child. They were keeping their heads down. Avoiding drawing attention towards themselves. How sad. So, lost and forgotten that this was the place she raised her child.

The sadness grew into anger as Madapriel realized this is also how his people lived.

Lost, forgotten, and ducking their heads to stay out of sight of those that would harm them.

“Soon,” Madapriel said quietly, sending his resolutions out to his scattered people. “Soon.”

Madapriel turned, and walked into the shop.

“Welcome!” A booming voice filled the small shop. Madapriel looked up to see a larger man wearing surgeon scrubs. “My name is Dr. Percale, how may I help you?”

“I hear you sell organs.”

A grin spread across Percale’s face. “Ah, a patron of my other business. Right this way, sir!”

Percale lead him through a doorway covered by a ratty tarp into a room. A table sat in the middle of the room, scrubbed immaculately clean. A tray of surgical tools sat on the bench nearby. Everything was neatly organized and presentable, if not ultimately appearing second rate. Percale busied himself about the room, placing any spare bits away.

“Excuse the mess,” Percale said, gesturing to the clean room. “I have had a relatively busy day. Three new placements for cybernetic replacements! News of my skills must be spreading about this wonderfully delightful planet.”

“Where are your wares?” Madapriel asked.

“Ah! Yes,” Percale turned to the back wall. With a flip of a switch, the wall opened up. Lining the shelves, hidden behind the thin false wall, were jars and bottles of organs and bodily fluids. Many Madapriel could recognize, but several he could not. He stepped forwards, examining them all.

“A truly impressive collection,” Madapriel said, complimenting the doctor. Percale brightened.

“Why, thank you, sir. Might I ask which particular organ you are looking for? I am currently running low on galldyrus and livers, but have a surplus of kirpeaus and eyes!”

Madapriel’s eyes wandered about the shelves. So many choices. He had a few species in mind, but one particular jar caught his attention. It wasn’t even from a species he had been considering. Memories flooded back of his first steps. The first time he opened his eyes. The first time he had touched something.

A jar holding a Velm eye was tucked on a lower shelf.

His first form had been a Velm. A fitting note that he should take Velm as his last.

“That one,” Madapriel pointed at the jar.

Percale lifted it up, dusting off the lid a bit. “Ah yes, I remember this customer. Replaced his eye with a cybernetic one. Threw in a free drone as well. Oh, what was his name? It was a few years ago, but I can assure you that I keep all organs in perfect condition.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Madapriel said. “How much?”

“Let me think…” Percale tapped his chin with his free hand. “3500 credits?”

“3000.”

“3300.”

“3100.”

“3200?”

“Deal,” Madapriel said, taking the jar from Percale. Tapping on his comm, he sent the credits to the doctor. Percale checked his own comm, grinning when the numbers appeared.

“A true pleasure doing business with you,” Percale said.

“Likewise,” Madapriel said. He took the jar, turning his back on Percale and the room as he walked towards the door. Just one more. One more, and he would be ready. He could truly start his search for the crystal, and he could take on his finality.

Four.

And just one more.

Madapriel wondered if that bothersome Celestial was still bouncing about this galaxy. The one with the clown. His DNA would be wonderful.

He stepped out onto the rainy streets and smiled.

[spaceiplier]

I just re-read Icarus (help) and I love how tense it is up until the end, congrats on that ! But when I got to the end I wondered why Dark seemed to be irritated by Mark's eye color, was that important at all ? You guys keep up the amazing work, I love it !

It’s important, yeah. Dark (or Madapriel) has a very complicated relationship with Mark. It was explained a little bit more in Icarus, but Dark viewed Mark more as a symbol of his past. Dark’s planet was destroyed, and his way of life eradicated. Mark is a part of that past in that he is the future of that past. He is half Xanhull, but he doesn’t know anything about who he is or that culture. Many parts of his personality are contrary to what Xanhull believed, and even him just existing goes against old Xanhull morals. Dark, however, is coming to accept Mark and everyone like him is just a new part of this galaxy. He was accepting Mark as one of his own. And then, as Dark is viewing Mark as this new symbol of his species and their new way of life, the GAAP killed him as well. There were a lot of emotions going into that scene, and a lot of implications and new ways of thought as well as Dark’s resolution to take back what he is owed. The eye color is just another reminder of that. 

- Eli 

[spaceiplier]

Will we get to learn why Mark's ears ring whenever he's around Dark? 🤔

same reason Mark had that nightmare the first night, actually

both being xanhull and sharing dna kinda screwed things up a bit

-Crow

[spaceiplier]

My slightly slow self just realized that the GAAP now knows that Mark's part Xanhull, oh h e c k

-Crow

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: Headlock

“This is the GAAP. Repeat, this is the GAAP. We are hailing the… the Barrel? Please respond.”

The voice crackled through the comms. Mark, sitting in the cockpit, looked up from his food. A little light blinked. Reaching over, he hit the button. “This is the captain of the Barrel. How can I help you?”

“We are hailing you,” a formal and tight voice said, slightly distorted over the comms. “Permission to board requesting. Permission granted?”

Mark was thrown back to his time at the Academy at the tone of voice. All official words and serious demands. Over the years, he had become used to the casual way citizens spoke to each other. Simple requests instead of demands. Distress signals sent out as pleas.

That, and Sean’s off-hand insults as he told them — not asked — that he was coming on board, and they couldn’t stop him even if they wanted.

“Uh, yes,” Mark said, rising to his feet and looking around the pilot pit. Everything was a mess. “Give us a few minutes to… uh… get the docking station set up.”

“Understood,” the GAAP officer replied. “Signal us when ready.”

The comm went dead. For a moment Mark quickly thought over the state of his ship. Then, with a flick of a switch, Mark switched it over to ship wide.

“We have fifteen minutes to get this entire ship clean!” He shouted into the comms, panic seeping into his voice. “Get up and start cleaning.”

“What’s going on?” Amy asked back, the comms crackling from her work shop.

“GAAP is boarding. Don’t know why, but they’ll be onboard soon. Just kick Chica’s excess goop under the couch, we don’t have time to deal with that now.”

Signing off the comms, Mark bolted out of the cockpit.

He had some dirty socks in the hallway that needed taken care of stat.

“Did they say what they were here for?” Tyler asked as Mark ran past him, scooping up a bundle of dirty laundry in his arms.

“Didn’t ask!” Mark shouted back, almost tripping over the sleeve of his cardigan. “There are some old meals in the kitchen sink. Just put them in the incinerator.”

“Got it,” Tyler said, shaking his head and running off towards the room.

“Did we do anything recently that would have warranted a GAAP visit?” Ethan asked as he caught up to Mark, his arms tangled in wires from one of his and Kathryn’s projects.

“I don’t know?” Mark chucked the laundry into the chute. “Invite Sean for dinner?”

“What…” Ethan nervously stopped. “What if it is about Sean?”

“We’re not giving up Sean,” Mark answered sternly. “Not now, not ever.”

Ethan nodded. “What do you think they’re going to say?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Mark said. “Now tell Kathryn that she needs to hide her hacking gear. And make sure that stuff Sean gave us is hidden!” He raised his voice as Ethan started sprinting down the hall.

Bing ran by, holding several boxes of scrap metal, followed quickly by Amy whose face was covered with grime and soot. She gave Mark a tense smile before following the robot into her shop.

This would be interesting.

.

.

Amy came up next to Mark, tapping the back of her hand to his. The tension in his shoulders lessened slightly, but he still anxiously watched the hanger door.

“They’ve boarded,” Kathryn said, attention focused on the panel, slowly directing the GAAP to land their ship.

Mark ran his hand through his hair and squared his shoulders. Time to see what was going on.

The hanger door slid open, and Mark felt himself snap to attention out of habit. Back straight, arms at his sides, head tilted forwards. He might not be an Academy student anymore, but old habits died hard.

Amy tapped her hand against his again, letting him know he wasn’t alone, before taking a small step behind him. She always had his back.

There were three GAAP officials. They stood in the doorway, two slightly behind the obvious leader. At the forefront was a towering Graeldur, a few heads taller than Tyler. He held his hat in his hands, shoulders slightly caved to give him a less intimidating appearance. Somehow, the effect was achieved. He smiled with near grandfatherly kindness. The attachments to his uniform showed his years of experience and rank.

On one side of him was a human officer. He fidgeted with the side of his pant legs. His eyes flitted from person to person, and he was always moving some part of his body. When Ethan gave him a smile, he attempted to smile back, but it faltered halfway. The dirty blond hair was neatly cut, slicked back against his head. Every crease of his uniform pressed to a near perfect line.

The last was a Nasazza woman. She was shorter than her companions but somehow exuded the most confidence. Her smile was quiet, but there was something hard and intelligent in her features. Maybe the way she watched Mark steadily, or the way her hand carefully traced the lines of the knife strapped to her leg. Her long silver hair was pulled back, and her silver and pink scales rippled, momentarily blending parts of her into the background. At her feet was a small dark yellow dog with a scrunched face. It was missing an eye, and it breathed heavily.

“Hello,” the Graeldur said, voice rumbling deep in his chest. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mark Fischbach. I have heard many stories about you and your crew. Many great things.”

He extended a rocky hand. Mark took it. It felt rougher than Tyler’s. As they shook, Mark saw the Nasazza woman shift, eyes darting from him to his crew.

“My name is Kamuk Kivlithos, third of my name,” the Graeldur said. “I am the commander of the GS Alestra. I am here to issue a warning, but also to ask for your help.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kivlithos let go of his hand, looking around. “Perhaps this would be a conversation better had somewhere more comfortable? While this is of urgency, we have much to discuss.”

“Of course,” Tyler jumped in, ushering their guests down the hall. “This way.”

Mark, ever grateful for Tyler’s diplomatic nature, let them pass him by. The last one to go was the Nasazza. As she passed him, their eyes met. For a second, all the softness was gone. Her eyes hardened and her smile vanished as she stared at him. It wasn’t cruel. It was searching. It was learning. She knew things about him, and she wanted to know more.

It lasted only a second, but it sent chills through Mark.

She was here for a reason.

Then she was gone, and Mark was left staring at an empty wall.

There had been plenty like her at the Academy. Mostly guest teachers, old officers, or the ones with specialities. The ones who had seen some shit, but looked cool enough to convince some gullible kids into joining the military. Mark had seen people like her before, and they had always unnerved him.

He followed his crew into the common room. Kivlithos had already taken a seat, his officers on either side. The rest of the crew spread out on the opposite side. Bing stood in the corner, hand tapping on his leg. Mark hesitantly moved to take a seat between Amy and Tyler, keeping an eye on their guests.

“Forgive my rudeness,” Kivlithos said, leaning forwards and extending a hand to the human. “I should have introduced my crew sooner. These two are some of the best and brightest of my crew. This is Dodgy, a specialist in tech. A bit nervous, but he knows what he’s doing.” Kivlithos laughed and patted the human on the back. Dodgy gave his commander a wavering smile, his hands keeping up an erratic pattern on his legs.

“Hi,” he said, not exactly meeting anyones eye. “I’m, uh, glad to, um, m-meet you.”

“And this is Marzia,” Kivlithos said, turning to the Nasazza. She closed her eyes with her smile, waving happily. Her other hand stayed on the dog sitting upon her lap. “She is part of the Calmaltare Units. One of the best, in fact.”

Ah. That explained it.

The cold analytical stare. How easily she slipped around. Even her species made sense with that occupation. Nasazza were amazing at adapting and hiding. Especially hiding. As prey on their homeworld, their species had adapted to be able to blend into their surroundings, using the superficial layer containing pigments, and their under layer with guanine crystals. They were quiet, steady, and deadly.

As a Calmaltare, Marzia easily became one of the most dangerous people Mark had ever seen.

“But that’s enough of introductions,” Kivlithos said, his easy smile growing taught. “I’ll cut straight to the chase here, to avoid any confusion. You recently were in contact with a Xanhull, correct? Within the last few months, according to our sources.”

“Uh,” Mark looked back at Amy. “Yes. We called him Dark. He… he didn’t exactly leave a good impression here.”

“They are a criminal and a threat to the government,” Kivlithos said. “While we cannot say much as to why they are, it is imperative that we capture them as quickly. We must avoid any damage they may cause in the future.”

Dodgy nodded, pulling out several files. He handed them out. Mark took his, flicking it open and looking through the holo-pages. There were pages upon pages of information on Dark. Much of it was redacted or vague, but it all spelled out the same thing: he was dangerous.

There was a moment of silence as they took in the information.

Kivlithos sat, blankly watching them with his hands clasped. There was tension in his hands. Marzia still smiled sweetly, somehow contributing to the sense of urgency in the room.

“This… this isn’t that much information,” Ethan muttered, eyes quickly scanning each page and committing it to his data banks.

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Mark finally asked, looking up. “No offence, sir, but we’re a ragtag group with no official sources or contacts. The most we do is help out those we come across. Our funding is limited, and our time used to help ourselves survive, along with those we find. How could we help more than the government?”

“Unfortunately, this Xanhull has evaded our grasp for centuries, before even the GAAP was founded. They always seem to be one step ahead of us, no matter what.” Kivlithos’s blank expression cracked as his mouth tightened and his brow furrowed. “The last time we saw them was roughly fifty years ago. It was an encounter that left many dead. They are dangerous, and not to be taken lightly.”

“This is why we need you,” Marzia began, taking over for Kivlithos. Her voice was high pitched and small, somehow light and airy despite how harsh the topic was. “From what we were able to gather, this Xanhull seemed to trust you. At least... to some degree. You have spent more time with this being than anyone else. You know more about them than probably we do. You all have a much higher chance of finding them, and possibly capturing them. If not, we will be a step behind to capture them, but we need your help.”

Her eyes met Mark’s, and her smile grew sardonic. “The Xanhull was drawn to you. Perhaps you will be drawn to them.”

Chills ran down Mark’s spine. Those connections to Dark had always left a sour taste in Mark’s mouth. The ringing in his ears, the burns on his hands, the odd nightmare from the first night… every connection to Dark had damaged him.

It hurt him, or it hurt those around him. Dark hated him, and wanted him dead. The only connection was a fragile line, drawn with blood and rage.

Mark wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue any of that. Going after Dark seemed like inviting that same experience back. With how much Dark hated him… Mark wasn’t sure that any connection would bring him closer to capturing him. Maybe closer to Dark finally killing him.

No, he didn’t want to find Dark. Not with how much Dark had hurt him, and hurt his crew.

“I’m sure the GAAP can handle it,” Mark said dismissively, getting to his feet and handing back the files. Kilvlithos blinked, and Marzia frowned. Dodgy nearly squeaked as Mark roughly pushed the files on him. Mark started walking to the door. “You’re much better equipped to handle this.”

“The Xanhull is looking for something,” Kivlithos said suddenly, the urgency in his voice making Mark pause. “Something dangerous. It will kill thousands.”

Mark slowly looked back. “What do you mean?”

Marzia placed a hand on Kivlithos’s arm, taking over talking. “We cannot tell you much. It’s a secret kept closely by our representatives. We barely know what it is. We only know that it is dangerous, and Dark wants it so that they can hurt thousands. Millions, even. An entire planet could fall this device. And the Xanhull wants it, and as we both know they will get what they want.”

Dodgy opened the file Mark had shoved on him, showing him a series of graphs and statistics, “S-s-see here there is an eighty p-percent chance of t-total destruction f-for anyone who would c-c-come into contact with this object!”

Mark hesitated.

They were asking him to put his and his crew’s lives at stake for the sake of millions of people across the galaxy. They were asking him to risk everything to find Dark. Objectively, it was a no brainer. The lives of five people versus the lives of millions? Of course, he should choose to help. He would always help.

On the other hand, this was his family, and family was more important to him than anything in the galaxy.

A hand tapped against his as Amy stood.

“We’ll help,” she said, her voice clear and steady. When she glanced over at Mark, though, he could see that she was having the same thoughts as him. She knew the same as him that they always helped. No matter the cost. “Of course we’ll help.”

“Excellent!” Kivlithos boomed, his voice shaking the room. He got to his feet, grabbing Mark’s hand to pull him into a handshake, yanking his attention away from Amy. “Dodgy will send you all the information you need briefly. Please understand we cannot tell you everything, but hopefully, it will be enough. And, to keep us in contact with your crew more closely, we have decided to leave behind Marzia. Just to keep an eye on things.” He winked.

Mark glanced over at Marzia. Again, her face was light, but her eyes were cold and calculating.

This would not end well.

.

.

“What are you working on?”

Ethan jumped, his head hitting the table above him. Tools went flying, and Ethan scooted out to glare at Marzia.

She leaned over, innocently watching him work with curious eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back. She had changed into civilian clothes, but still somehow stood out in the mess of Ethan’s room. That dog — Maya, Marzia had called her — sat at her feet watching him with the same curiosity.

“How long have you been watching me?” Ethan asked, holding his head and glaring at her. The parts of the cleaning system he’d been attempting to fix scattered. He had been putting this off for weeks now, and finally the amount of dog hair and Dulcosi goop building up had convinced him to fix it. “I don’t know how it works in the GAAP, but that’s creepy.”

“Long enough,” Marzia shrugged. “I’ve found your work interesting. You used to work with the GAAP, and the things that came out of your work during that time—”

Ethan tensed and started gathering the scattered tools. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve read about me, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, crouching to pick up one of the tools. She handed it back to him. “I know that you’ve had a hard time. Your creator was… unethical, to say the least, despite the great advancements he has made. It’s fascinating to see how far you’ve come since then.”

“Thanks?” Ethan snatched the tool from her. “Listen, I don’t really like talking about back then, so as cool as you think I am, keep it to yourself, okay?”

“Very well,” she said, keeping the light tone. Her next words, however, were cool and professional. The switch in her tone threw him off. Marzia’s voice was the kind Ethan just expected to sound happy and agreeable. The professional GAAP officer wasn’t something he expected from the small Nasazza.

She moved slightly closer, “I have come to ask for your help, however.”

“Yeah?” Ethan leaned back under the table, attempting to appear disinterested. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“I have been trying to link my devices to the main ship,” Marzia explained. “There are a few issues I am having, and Mark told me you were the best to talk to about that.”

Of course Mark shifted the work onto him.

Ethan sighed, “What do you have?”

“Just a comm and my personal computer.” Marzia held out the comm. “It will also help me upload the information Dodgy has sent me directly to your computers.”

“Great, gimme.” Ethan took the comm from her hands. It was standard GAAP issue, but when Ethan opened it up there was more to it than he had expected. “Damn, lady. What kind of upgrades do you have on this thing?”

“My profession requires more intense equipment,” Marzia said, sitting next to him. “Can you hook it up?”

“Yeah, just gimme a second.” Ethan fiddled with the controls for a few moments before it clicked. “There. Mark still has main control and everything, but you should be good to go.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” she said. She moved as if to stand, but hesitated. Marzia looked like she was fighting herself over something. The curiosity finally broke her. Marzia sat back down, hands clasped. “Can I ask you something?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Your counterpart. Blank. Have you been in contact with him recently?”

Whatever semblance of a heart Ethan had sank. Regret, cold and sharp, sank itself into his stomach.

Oh… him.

“He’s dead,” Ethan muttered, looking down at the floor and trying to keep his voice steady. “He couldn’t turn back on again. They just kept turning him off, even though we knew it was breaking us. He didn’t… he couldn’t… shouldn’t you know that? You’ve read about me.”

Marzia frowned, then blinked as she gasped, “Oh, you didn’t know? Blank turned back on! He was back up and running, doing his duties with your creator. Nearly a month ago, however, he disappeared. No trace of him anywhere. Nobody knows where he is now.”

Ethan gaped at her. Blank… Blank was alive? He wasn’t broken? How… where… when…?

Thoughts raced through his head, leaving Ethan without anything to grasp onto. For so long he had just accepted that Blank was gone. He was the only one left from that shitty place. But he wasn’t. Blank wasn’t gone. He wasn’t dead, just... missing.

He’d escaped.

He’d made it.

“Where was his last known location?” Ethan asked, looking back up and hoping Marzia couldn’t hear the desperation in his voice. “Please, where is he? I need to find him. I have… I need to go. He has to be looking for me, I need to find him!”

“I can send you all the available details,” Mariza said calmly, getting to her feet. Ethan scrambled up as well, standing nearly a head over her. “Don’t worry, Ethan. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I thought he was dead,” Ethan said, looking down at his hands. Useless, helpless hands. “I thought I was alone.”

Marzia grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to meet her eyes. She smiled, and this time it was truly kind. “You aren’t. You weren’t then, and you aren’t now.”

Her words comforted him, but he still had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here.

“I have to go find him,” Ethan said, desperation turning into determination. He needed this. “He’s alone. He needs me.”

“Soon,” Marzia assured him. “But I need you here first. ‘Dark,’ as you all call them, is the priority. The moment there is some spare time, you may go look. But for now, I need you focused on capturing Dark as soon as we can.”

Ethan nodded. All he wanted to do was take the coordinates and start looking for Blank, but he knew he couldn’t. Dark was going to hurt people.

Sorry, Blank, he thought. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.

.

.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?”

Amy brushed some metal bits off of her welding jacket, shaking her head. “No, not at all. I’m just finishing these cuts up. Did you need something?”

Marzia hesitated at the door. She was wearing high-end civilian clothes, looking much more relaxed from a few days ago. Her eyes danced over the equipment around Amy’s feet, landing on the small welder Sean had given her for Scarlix Day.

“I was going to… I was going to ask… I’m sorry, but is that a Flux-Electron Welder?” Marzia asked, disbelief in her voice.

Amy winced. She knew that having something that high-tech would come back to bite her in the ass eventually. It was convenient, and made the cleanest welds with little to no fumes, but it was insanely expensive.

There was no way Sean had obtained it through honest means.

“It was a gift,” Amy said, picking it up. “A friend got it for me.”

“A rich friend,” Marzia huffed. She moved farther into the room, coming to stand near Amy. “I’ve only seen those… well… I don’t believe I’m allowed to say, but they are expensive. How does it handle?”

“You weld?” Amy asked, holding it out for Marzia to take. It looked almost clunky in Marzia’s smaller, more delicate hands.

“Occasionally,” Marzia said, sounding forlorn as she turned the tool over in her hands. She handled it like a professional. “I wish I could do it more, but my job has me working nearly round the clock. Not much time for hobbies. I did get a chance to work my skills during a short holiday with… a friend.”

“A friend?” Amy asked. The way Marzia had said that word, like she was treading around dangerous waters. She said it the same way Amy referred to Sean.

“Yes,” Marzia said. “Something like that. May I try this out? I got to use their Friction XII Welder a few cycles ago, but it handled so clumsily. I’d love to see how this one works.”

Amy could take the hint. Accepting the change in subject, she got up and offered Marzia her place. “I have a mask, jacket, and gloves in my cabinet. One second.”

Once outfitted properly, Marzia grabbed several scraps Amy had lying around. Just little bits Amy had cut off of her current project. Manipulating them around, she slowly formed them into a small box.

“It’s so smooth!” Marzia exclaimed, taking off the mask. “No catch at all on the wire feeder, and there is no feedback from the fumes! I can’t even smell them.”

“It’s nice for extended lengths of time,” Amy agreed. “I’ve stopped getting headaches as frequently.”

“What are you working on?” Marzia asked, handing the welder back and leaning over to look at Amy’s current monstrosity. “It’s huge.”

“One of the biggest I’ve tackled,” Amy said, flipping a few switches to cycle out the air. As the vents kicked up, Amy raised her voice. “It’s a challenge, but I got a commission from a regular, and they wanted this for a wedding. Here, see?”

She turned it to show off the half formed statue. It was nearly four feet tall. An image of two beings — a human and a Ninkain — dancing together. Amy wasn’t particularly found of figure sculpting, but this was one of her favorite customers. And besides, it gave her an excuse to practice.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Marzia sighed wistfully as she walked around it. “A wedding… I can only imagine how wonderful that will be. Have you been sculpting for a long time?”

“Mostly just in my spare time,” Amy admitted, feeling a little awkward having a stranger look over her work. “I didn’t really have the funds to do it for a while until I met Mark. Before then, I was working as a bouncer. Didn’t pay much, and most of my funds were going towards Henry’s medical bills. Now I have a bit more time for this.”

“You have a good eye for detail,” Marzia said, smiling kindly. “Your passion for this shows.”

“Thanks,” Amy said, accepting the compliment with a shrug. “We all have to have hobbies, right?”

“Of course,” Marzia said. She clasped her hands, bouncing on her heels. “Don’t feel pressured, but I haven’t gotten to work in a shop in months, and I’d love to sharpen up some of my rustier skills. Would you mind if I used your shop?”

“Totally, dude,” Amy said, gesturing at her equipment. “Just keep it clean and you can use it all you’d like.”

“Thank you!” Marzia hugged Amy suddenly, her twin tails wagging happily.

“Uh, your clothes?” Amy said, getting over her surprise. She was certain those clothes cost more than her entire closet put together.

“Oh, I have others,” Marzia said, pulling back and looking down at the short dress she was wearing. “I never really cared for this outfit anyway.”

Amy blinked. How much did the GAAP pay Calmaltare? She thought the dress looked like it should be worn to a inner-system party, not a welder’s shop, but she wasn’t about to argue with a member of the Calmaltare.

.

.

Pant pant pant pant...

Mark stared at the little dog. The dog stared back, breathing hard.

Maya, was it? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was this little ball of heavy breath had started waddling after him, and he couldn’t shake them. Now they were at a stalemate. Mark stared at Maya, and Maya stared back. Both were parked in the middle of a back hallway, uninterrupted for nearly half an hour now.

“Do you ever blink?” Mark muttered, mostly to himself. Maya didn’t respond. If anything she just started breathing harder, her one eye staring into his soul.

“Oh, there you are!”

Mark finally broke eye contact with the dog, looking up to see Marzia standing at the end of the hallway, Chica weaving through her legs. With a huff, Maya got up and waddled over to Marzia.

“Your dog is weird,” Mark said, watching Chica and Maya sniff around each other. “No offense.”

“Well, she isn’t technically a dog,” Marzia said, leaning over to pick up Maya. Pressing on the back of her neck, Maya’s one eye flashed pink for a moment. “She’s a robot. My little companion.”

“I guess that’s why she didn’t blink,” Mark muttering, still upset he hadn’t beaten her. “Are you not allowed real animals? Being Calmaltare must be dangerous. What happened to her other eye? Shouldn’t it have been replaced by now?”

Marzia giggled and rubbed Maya’s head. “You sure ask a lot of questions,” she laughed, setting Maya back down on the ground to play with Chica. “No, we’re not allowed real animals unless they’re service animals, and the eye is a long story. She doesn’t really need it, and I think she looks cute like this, don’t you?”

Maya sneezed.

In some strange way, the little dog was cute, if Mark was being honest.

“Yeah,” Mark said, getting to his feet in time for Chica to jump onto him. He grabbed her front paws, holding her as she panted up at him. “I guess. Where’d you get her? She’s crazy realistic.”

Marzia’s eyes lit up for a moment, opening her mouth to answer excitedly. Then, the light died down in her eyes. “A friend,” she said cooly, slowly petting Maya.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “A friend.”

For a moment they just watched each other. Sizing the other up. Then, Marzia broke out into a grin. “I’m allowed to have friends,” Marzia said, giggling. “My job doesn’t keep me from being a person.”

The shift in mood threw Mark off. Any trace of the dangerous weapon Marzia was disappeared in a blink, replaced with a person that was somehow scarier. It was a person keeping a mask. While Mark was still stumbling to get back on his train of thought, Marzia turned around and walked away.

“Wait! We’re close to finding Dark’s last known location. Bing will let you know when to get suited up,” Mark called after her.

Marzia waved and disappeared around the corner.

There was something off about her. Maybe it was just that she was a government spy, but Mark couldn’t shake the feeling under his skin that Marzia knew something.

She was hiding something important, and she knew it.

.

.

It was a mess.

Marzia walked into the crime scene purposely, stepping over several glowing markers with Maya waddling after her. GLE officers swarmed the club, scanning and collecting everything. A few were taking statements from several patrons. The lights had been turned on, throwing the normally dimly lit nightclub into harsh light it was never meant to see.

Mark and Tyler hung back, watching them work. Marzia had other ideas, moving about and exchanging short words with each officer.

“Detective!” Marzia said loudly, approaching the last man standing near the center of the room. He wore a long brown coat, a cap pulled low. His scowled at them, puffing on an electric cigar. “What happened?”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore,” the detective huffed, taking a long drag and breathing it out. The sour scent wafted through the air as he puffed a small smoky circle. “And I only know what I saw, which isn’t much. Shouldn’t you be talking to Bert’s division?”

Mark nudged Tyler. The two started following Marzia, careful to not disturb any evidence.

They’d received the call yesterday. The Xanhull had been seen at a club. Several had been injured in the resulting fight. They’d gotten to the small, nightclub-filled moon as quickly as they could.

The detective and Marzia continued to bicker amicably. Mark looked around as he and Tyler approached. Everything was neatly wrapped up with glowing caution tape and white sheets. A large tarp hung off the back wall, covering something. The few witnesses - the owner of this establishment and other employees - looked bored and ready to leave. There was nothing there that especially screamed ‘Dark’ to Mark.

It was broken and dirty. Not his style.

“Who are you?” A GLE officer approached them, hands raised to block them from continuing farther. “No citizens allowed.”

“They’re with me,” Marzia said, lazily flashing her badge. “Just let them look around.”

The GLE officer glared at them before backing off. Mark and Tyler reached the detective and Marzia, joining the conversation.

“Who are you?” the detective repeated from the GLE officer, raising an eyebrow and tapping his electric cigar. He seemed grumpy, tired, and ready to leave. There was something in his eyes that told Mark he’d seen more than Mark could ever know.

“I’m Mark,” Mark said, “Mark Fischbach. And this is Tyler. We’re, uh, looking for someone.”

“Fischbach?” the detective huffed, narrowing his eyes. Then they cleared and he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course you’re here.”

Mark nervously looked at Tyler. What?

Tyler shrugged.

“Take all the looks you want.” The detective pointed his electric cigar at them forcefully, then at the bar. “I’m going to be over there, making some goddamn comm calls. Don’t take anything. I still need to look a few things over.”

Marzia rolled her eyes. “GLE,” she muttered under her breath. The detective glared, then stormed off, muttering something that sounded like a metaphor.

“Okay?” Mark replied, tilting his head in confusion. “Who was he?”

“Abe Lincoln,” Marzia explained. “Former detective for the GLE. He was fired when he started obsessing over this one serial killer case. Couldn’t move on. Couldn’t accept that this was one criminal beyond his ability to catch. Tragic, really. He was brilliant.”

Mark watched Abe plop himself down on one of the bar stools, grabbing a bottle and starting to drink. He seemed familiar.

When had Mark seen him before?

“Here’s the evidence you asked for,” a GLE officer ran up to Marzia, handing her a holo-file.

“Thanks.” She waved him off, skimming through it. For a few seconds, she just read, occasionally muttering something under her breath. Then she stopped, an eyebrow raised.

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What is it?” Tyler asked, leaning forwards to see.

Marzia didn’t respond. Just held up the holo-file.

Nice try, gret.

The words were scratched into a wall, but it was somehow still ornate and clean. Each line carefully forced into the wall. Each letter deep and purposeful. Looking towards the back of the nightclub, Mark saw the wall covered with a thin layer of tarp.

It was Dark. He had been here.

“The Xanhull knew we were coming,” Marzia said, frowning as she looked back at the holo-file. “Someone told him.”

“Nobody from my crew,” Mark said quickly, ready to defend his friends. “I trust them.”

“Then it won’t hurt if I run some tests,” Marzia said smugly, already moving onto the next task. Continuing to flip through the file, she said, “Trust means nothing without proof.”

Mark struggled to come up with a biting remark, but found nothing. Huffing, Mark turned and stomped over to the covered wall.

“Mark!” Tyler hurried after him.

Mark ripped the tarp off, drawing several angry cries from the GLE. He didn’t care. He just stared at the words with growing frustration. His hands felt hot as he clenched them. The slur stared back at him, mocking him.

Gret. That stupid fucking word that scarred every inch of his life. That one word that had marred him as different. As something outside of what should exist. Mark didn’t give a fuck about purists and their arrogant views. He was a person with the same rights to exist as anyone else. ‘Gret’ didn’t bother him. Or… at least… it hadn’t for years.

But now that word was coming from a man who personally wanted him dead.

Dark could go fuck himself.

Pompous bastard.

“Let’s just finish this up and go home,” Tyler said behind him, voice quiet and steady. “We’ll find him eventually.”

Leave it to Tyler to have a level head in the face of this bullshit.

“I want this over with as soon as possible,” Mark growled. The less time he had to spend looking for Dark, the better.

“Then let’s find him,” Tyler said. “Let the GAAP throw him in a hole so far down we won’t ever have to think about him again.”

Marzia whistled, drawing their attention to her. She gestured them over, pointing at Abe. Mark grumbled, but followed the direction.

“What do you want?” Abe grumbled as they approached, kicking his feet up on the bar. He took another swig of whatever was in the bottle, wincing as it burned.

“What did you see?” Marzia asked, file open to take notes. “You were last one on the scene, according to several eyewitnesses. You were confronting one of the criminals,” Marzia said, calm but forceful.

“I’m guessing you won’t leave until I tell you, huh?” Abe asked, rubbing his temples.

“You got it.” Marzia smiled sweetly.

“Fine,” Abe said. He sat up and turned to face the trio standing behind him. “But you owe me, GAAP lady.”

“I’ll cover your expenses for the next few nights.”

Abe huffed in agreement. “The criminal I was talking to was the man I’ve been chasing for god knows how long. His name’s Wilford Warfstache, or at least that’s what he calls himself. He’s a shapeshifter. Most recently, he’s taken the form of you.” Abe paused to point at Mark. “Plus a few aesthetic changes. Pink hair. Mustache. Few inches taller.”

Mark faintly remembered the pink being who’d broken into his ship a while back. The asshole who’d purposely made himself taller.  

“I’d had him pinned down a few months ago when he up and vanished,” Abe continued. “Then I got a lead that brought me here. I was confronting him when he shot one of the victims. The angry one shot the other. Everything was chaos after that. I didn’t get a good look before I was getting dragged away with the crowd.”

“What did they look like?” Mark asked impatiently.

“Hold your cavalli,” Abe snapped, glaring at Mark. “I’m getting to it.” The ex-detective leaned back against the bar. “The first one looked like you too, but with longer hair and a little taller. He had two lines running down his face. One red and the other blue. He dressed nice. Too nice for this place. I think the other must have been built to look like him. He was a robot with red and blue panelling, wearing a blue sweater. Looked a little beat up. Jumpy too.”

Google. How the fuck did Dark get his hands on Google? Mark glanced at Tyler, who was staring in wide-eyed shock. Sean had told them Google had jumped ship. Just up and left. Somehow the robot must have found Dark. Poor Sean had been distraught when he’d called.

“You know it?” Marzia and Abe asked simultaneously. They shared a disgruntled look.

“I think,” Mark started slowly. He had to be careful to not give away Sean. “I had a robot a little while back that matched that description. He ended up going rogue and disappeared.”

“What would Dark want with him?” Marzia asked. “A rogue robot isn’t usually someone’s first choice in companion.”

Maya snorted.

“He was an information robot,” Tyler answered, taking over for Mark. “He had the ability to learn information. I can only guess that Dark would want the robot to find whatever he’s looking for.”

Marzia hummed under her breath, making a note in her files. Abe scowled, muttering something about ‘pink’ and ‘too deep now.’

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Abe grumbled, mostly to himself.

“What question?” Mark asked, feeding the former detective the line he was clearly waiting for.

“What were they doing with Wilford?” Abe asked, frowning at his bottle. “He’s not usually one to spend a lot of time with any one person. From what I gathered, however, he’d been with this ‘Dark’ fellow for a while now.” Abe finished his thought off with a deep swig of booze. For a second, Mark thought Abe looked worried, his hands trembling around the bottle.

Then he looked up, and the concerned man was gone, leaving a disgruntled, disgraced detective.

“So nice to learn you’re on a first name basis with the criminal,” Marzia said dryly. Abe flinched. “Don’t worry. My superiors won’t hear about it. Just keep the friendliness under the table, Abe.”

He grunted, the worry lines lessening in his forehead. “There’s more than one reason I got fired. We both know it, so cut the crap.”

“Anything else you can tell us?” Marzia asked, ignoring him.

Abe thought for a moment. “I did overhear that Dark fellow yelling at the robot about something. A Celestial, I think. He was mad that the dude wasn’t here. Real mad. I don’t know what he’s after, but if it has to do with a Celestial…” Abe shuddered. “This guy is bad news.”

Marzia frowned, and Mark and Tyler exchanged anxious looks.

“Thanks for the help, Abe,” Marzia sighed. “I’ll be sure to contact you if we see your killer anywhere.”

“Glad I could help,” Abe grunted, lifting the bottle of booze towards the trio in a gesture of goodwill. “And thank you too. Give the others my best.”

“For what?” Tyler leaned in and muttered in Mark’s ear. Mark shrugged, and they started walking away. Marzia picked up Maya and followed quietly behind.

“Relate information to P3WD,” Marzia said quietly to the little robot dog. Maya sneezed, her eye flashing pink.

Mark and Tyler climbed back into their pod, leaving behind the flashing nightclub. Marzia leaned against their pod, her expression serious.

“This is worst than we thought,” she said. “I can’t tell you exactly why, but we need to find Dark. Fast.”

“Why? Why can’t you tell us?” Mark argued back, exasperated.

Marzia clutched Maya tightly. “It’s not safe. Not right now.”

She walked away, holding her dog close as she climbed into her own pod.

.

.

Mark paced his and Amy’s bedroom, running his hands through his hair.

Nice try, gret.

How had he known? How had he known that Mark was coming? Nobody besides the GAAP knew that his crew was tracking him. He could practically see Dark’s face. The sneer he was probably wearing as he carved the letters into the club’s wall.

You’re a mistake.

Something nudged his foot. Mark looked at the ball that he’d walked into. Another one of Chica’s toys. Picturing Dark’s smug face, Mark kicked the ball as hard as he could. It ricocheted off the wall and returned to slam Mark in the gut.

Mark gasped as the air was forced from his gut. He doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

You care. Pathetic.

Dark was the pathetic one, Mark thought.

Regaining control of his airways, he huffed and sat down on the floor. He glared at the ball. What was so wrong about attachments? Dark had always been dodgy whenever anyone asked him about family or relationships, but Mark had never really thought much of it. Maybe he’d lost someone a long time ago, and so he’d built up walls, convinced to never let anyone in ever again. Maybe he had some empathy.

Mark picked up the ball, examining the bright reds and blues.

No. Dark wasn’t some half-assed trope. He wasn’t going to find redemption in the ‘power of friendship’ or whatever sickly sweet bullshit lines from a movie could pull out to show that this man wasn’t as bad as he seemed. He wasn’t a good person, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to find forgiveness from Mark.

Tossing aside the ball, Mark laid back on the floor, covering his face with his hands and letting out a tired groan.

He was so tired.

They all were. Tyler worked long nights, Kathryn digging through every contact she had, and Amy supporting them all. Ethan took every piece of information they had, running it through his data banks. Even Bing pitched in where he could. Marzia was relentless, especially after the nightclub. She pushed them on. Pushed them farther.

Mark was used to working hard. He liked working long hours. He liked feeling like he was accomplishing something. This wasn’t that. He wasn’t doing anything but running in circles, chasing a ghost. Marzia was working his entire crew down to the bone, and the stress was starting to get to all of them.

You know nothing, gret.

He might not know a lot, but he knew that they were going nowhere.

They needed help.

.

.

“BEEP BEEP ASSHOLES PREPARE TO BE BOARDED.”

Panic. That was all Mark felt as he bolted out of his room, determined to reach the docking bay before Marzia did.

He had forgotten to tell Sean that they had GAAP agents on board. Sean wasn’t one to give forewarning to his sporadic visits, and panic only continued to rise in Mark’s chest as Sean’s hearty laughter echoed through the halls.

Mark crashed into Bing as he rounded a corner. Bing looked more excited than usual, which was really saying something.

“Suh, dude!” Bing said happily from under Mark. “It’s Sean!”

Mark scrambled off of Bing. “Bing, shut up. Go into timeout mode.”

“What!” Bing protested. “I didn’t break anything!”

“Just shut up and go to your charging module. You can’t be seen with Sea- I mean Jack! Okay, I don’t have time to tell you again!”

Bing pouted, but Mark only got a glance of the poor robot’s dejected expression before continuing his own sprint to the docking bay. He’d make it up to Bing later, but right now he needed to make sure his friend didn’t end up in prison because of Mark’s own stupidity.

Mark skidded around the corner to the docking bay just as Sean’s ship aligned up. Marzia stood at the door, staring at it with a little smirk. A hand traced the intricate hilt of a knife strapped to her leg.

Mark’s chest tightened, and not because he was out of breath.

“It seems we have a guest,” Marzia said, not bothering to look at Mark.

“Uh,” Mark wheezed. He wanted to make up something to cover Sean’s tracks, but it was too late. He was too late. The rest of the crew appeared, all wearing equally frantic faces as Sean sauntered through the door.

“Hey, fuckos!” he exclaimed, punching Mark in the shoulder. “Guess who just got back from…”

Mark didn’t know if it was the crew frantically shaking their heads behind Marzia, or Marzia’s raised eyebrow, but Sean stuttered to a halt. The scales on his arms shot up, tearing through his sweater.

“Mar-m-mmmmmwoooow who is this?” Sean stumbled over his words, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. “You… uh… didn’t tell me you had a guest.” Sean said, quick to hide his surprise and glare pointedly at Mark.

Maya snorted, waddling over to sniff Sean’s boot.

“Uh, this is Marzia,” Mark said as he stepped forwards, gesturing between them. “Marzia, Se-Jack. Jack, Marzia. Marzia works for the GAAP.” Mark said, putting every amount of emphasis he had into GAAP.

“Pleasure,” Sean said, fangs clenched and bared as he extended a hand Marzia. Mark was almost positive Sean was going to judo flip Marzia over his shoulder. The two shook hands peacefully, if not roughly.

Sean spat on his hand and wiped it on his pants, cleaning it of Marzia’s touch.

“Likewise,” Marzia said cheerfully, wiping her own hand - which was now covered in grease stains - on a handkerchief she pulled out of the slim dark pants she was wearing.

All seven people stood in tense silence for what felt like forever, Sean glaring daggers at each of them. Chica, Henry, and Maya’s panting filling the silence.

“Should we, um, go sit down?” Amy suggested, cutting the tension like a spoon through molasses. “Dinner should be ready any minute now.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sean said, pushing through the crew. He walked quickly down the hall opposite to the common room, tail lashing behind him. Mark and Amy exchanged glances.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Mark said. “You guys go eat. We’ll be there in a bit.” Before anyone could say another thing, he was chasing after his friend.

Mark caught up to Sean, who had stopped towards the end of the hall. Mark slowed his walk as he saw the Velm, approaching him slowly.

Sean was leaning against the wall, arms folded and lower lip stuck out as he glared at the opposite wall, his chest lowering and raising roughly as he attempted to calm himself. He didn’t look up as Mark jogged up to him.

“What’s up?” Mark asked, sliding onto the wall opposite of him. Sean huffed and turned his head to glare down the hall. Mark rolled his eyes, “Come on, man. Talk to me.”

“You know ‘what’s up,’” Sean growled, the scales rippling on his arms. “The GAAP? Really, Mark? And you didn’t think to at least let me know?”

“We didn’t exactly have a lot of choice about Marzia’s extended stay,” Mark said, kicking Sean’s foot to get his attention. He looked back at him for a second before returning to pouting down the hall. “And we kind of forgot. We’ve been… we’ve been busy. This whole business with the GAAP has been crazy.”

“Yeah, it usually is, isn’t it?” Sean said, standing up straight. “Well, since you’ve got that mess on your ship, I’ll be on my way. Didn’t expect to have to cut the visit so short, but I don’t think my kind is going to be very welcome here.”

“Sean, come on.” Mark reached out, grabbing Sean’s arm as he attempted to walk away. “Just stay for dinner? Just an hour, and then you can go. We’ll avoid politics or any of that government business. It’s been forever since we’ve seen you.”

“Just a month,” Sean muttered. “Scarlix Day.”

“Too long. Also—”  Mark looked down the hall both ways before turning back to Sean— “I need to cash in a favor. It has to do with this whole mess, but don’t worry. You’ll like it.”

“I’d better,” Sean sighed, straightening up and shaking out his tense scales. “Let’s get this over with.”

The two walked back to the kitchen. The others were getting everything set and ready for dinner. As they entered, Ethan gave Sean an anxious smile before darting over to save a falling stack of bread.

“Where is Bing?” Marzia asked, looking around.

“Charging!” Mark said, much too loudly. “He, uh, was feeling low.”

“Ah,” Marzia answered, giving him a blank look. Mark hated it when she started wearing the mask.

“Let’s eat,” Amy said, attempting to draw attention away from the missing robot.

The others sat around the table, Sean sitting as far away from Marzia as he could. The food was quickly passed around, everyone serving themselves.

“So, Jack,” Marzia started. Everyone around the table froze, and flinched when a plate clinked against the table. “How do you know these guys?”

Sean opened his mouth to answer, when Tyler butted in.

“We’re cousins!” he said, smiling much too widely and practically leaning across the whole table to cover Sean, who was rolling his eyes. “Close buddies. Grew up together.”

“But you’re Graeldur,” Marzia pointed out. “And Jack is Velm.”

“I’m—” Sean attempted to cut in.

“Adopted!” Ethan also threw himself across the table to save Sean. “I mean, I’m not adopted. Well, I kind of am. I don’t really have a real dad, or mom, unless you count my creator, and I don’t because he’s kind of a dick. And dead to me. So I’m kind of adopted into this crew, cause you know… Anywho… What I meant to say is Jack’s adopted, right, Mark?”

“Right!” Mark said, eagerly jumping onto the train of lies. He could see Sean sliding down into his seat out of the corner of his eye. “I grew up next door to Tyler, so I can totally one hundred percent confirm this!”

Kathryn grabbed Sean, forcing him to sit back up. He gave her the most tragic, betrayed look Mark had ever seen. Kathryn wasn’t swayed, but patted his arm comfortingly.

“He lost his family in a crash,” Kathryn added, wiping a non-existent tear from her cheek. “I couldn’t believe it when Tyler told me about it.”

“Look, I’m just—” Sean attempted to stand, but Amy forced him back down.

“Tyler and Mark are like brothers to him,” she said, giving Sean a tight hug. “They grew up together so closely. I bet they could tell you all about it.”

“Oh god…” Sean muttered, tensing in Amy’s strong grasp. Mark knew there was no way he was getting out of that mechanical grip any time soon.

“Oh really?” Marzia took a drink, the corners of her mouth turned up. “I’d love to hear every detail.”

“Yes!” Tyler said. He held a hand to his chest, looking off into the distance. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a little pebble. Jack was a tiny lizard who squeaked a lot.”

“Jack did squeak a lot,” Mark affirmed, smiling nostalgically.

“I did no—”

“Shush, we’re reminiscing!” Ethan said quickly, putting his finger over Sean’s lips.

“We used to play in the gorge by our houses, and explore the caves. Jack ate bugs. So many bugs,” Tyler sighed.

“Okay, that one—”

“One time, he tripped on a rock. He broke two of his toes and chipped his tooth,” Mark interrupted, trying to contain his laughter. “He had to walk around on crutches for weeks, because the hospital was too far away. He also whistled every time he talked.”

Amy still had one arm firmly keeping Sean in his seat, the other planted over her mouth to keep herself from laughing. Kathryn was keeping a perfect poker face, but her ears were shaking and her tail twitched rapidly.

“He went through an edgy phase when he was a teen,” Tyler said, taking over so Mark could relax. “He had gauges and—”

Sean yelled, “OKAY TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, DEAREST COUSIN.”

Tyler let out a chuckle and leaned back in his seat. “I guess that’s enough stories for now.”

“No, why don’t we tell some stories about you two?” Sean suggested, grinning wickedly. “I remember Mark one time was cooking some dinner for everyone, but instead of putting flour in, he put in actual flowers from the garden. His dad took one bite and had to run to the bathroom to throw up.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Well, one time Jack accidentally tripped and managed to pull down his pants in the middle of school.”

“Well, one time Mark told this one girl he liked her, and she slammed her lunch tray in his face in front of the whole cafeteria.”

“Uh huh. Jack once got gasoline on his hands and set off alarms at our school.”

“The same girl he had a crush on got him to eat two live worms!”

“He biffed it into a mud pile!”

“He broke his arm learning to pilot!”

“He had blue stripes!”

“He had a bowl cut!”

Sean and Mark had both climbed on top of their chairs and were yelling with growing intensity at each other. Everyone else watched in stunned silence, Henry and Chica hiding under Amy’s legs. Someone needed to intervene before either of them said something they would regret.

“I THINK NOW’S A GOOD TIME TO END STORIES,” Tyler yelled forcefully, grabbing the back of both of their collars and yanking them back into their seats. “Why don’t you both go cool off a bit?” Sean and Mark glared at each other before standing up and storming off in opposite directions.

“Well, this has been eventful,” Marzia patted her mouth with her napkin before standing. “I think I’m going to bed. Thank you for the meal, Amy. Kathryn. Ethan.” She nodded to each of them before bouncing out of her seat and skipping down the hall.

“Tyler, can you get Sean?” Kathryn asked, stacking the dirty dishes in Ethan’s arms. “Amy, would you get Mark?”

.

.

A few minutes later, everyone except Marzia was back in the kitchen. Tyler held Sean under one arm, the Velm’s tail lashing as he glared at Mark across the room.

“Can I leave, please?” Sean plead, looking up at Tyler.

“Politeness will get you nowhere,” Ethan pointed out.

“Shut up, Ethan, I’m bargaining for my freedom.”

Ethan snickered and leaned back in his seat.

“Can you two apologize so we can have a proper discussion?” Kathryn groaned, rubbing her temples.

“The only thing that needs discussed is how quickly I can leave,” Sean said, crossing his arms.

“Oh shut up,” Mark muttered. “You’re the one who escalated it.”

“You’re the one who said I was adopted!”

“That was Tyler, you idiot!”

“Says the guy who ate worms!”

“You grew up eating bugs!”

“It was normal! I was, like, two! You were fifteen!”

“Yeah, well—”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT,” Kathryn yelled, preventing another yelling match. “We have more important things to talk about than your childhoods.”

“Maybe you should have just let me talk for myself then,” Sean said, squirming in Tyler’s arms.

“Is it that bad being my cousin?” Tyler asked, sticking out his lower lip and fake crying.

“It is when you tell a complete stranger things I told all of you in confidence,” Sean hissed.

“Or when you were completely wasted,” Ethan snickered, his face quickly falling when Kathryn glared at him. “Sorry.”

“Just, what the fuck guys? I spill my darkest secrets and you tell Marz… that GAAP agent and…”

“Look, we should just move on already,” Amy sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re both idiots, congrats. In case any of you have forgotten, we’re chasing Dark.”

The room quickly sobered.

Sean looked around in disbelief. “Seriously? Why the fuck would you guys even try to find that dickwad again?”

“The government asked us. Now,” Mark held up his hands as Sean snorted sarcastically. “I get that you hate the GAAP, but we do need your help.”

“I’m not helping the GAAP,” Sean said, shaking his head. “No way, no how, not ever.”

“What if it’s us?” Kathryn asked, holding out a file. Tyler let go of Sean, whose eyes widened as he dropped to the floor with a thud. Standing up, he reached forwards and took the file. “We need your help. We’re working on limited information, and we’re honestly grasping at straws.”

“Dark seems to know when we’re going to show up. He’s always a step ahead. Sometimes twelve steps,” Mark said. “We’ve been working our asses off, trying to catch this asshole. It’s not working. We need to try something else.”

“That’s you,” Ethan said. “We need your help, Sean.”

“What am I supposed to do? This file is full of nothing!” Sean asked, snapping the folder shut. “It’s just redacted information and bullshit. I don’t know why else you would expect more from the GAAP. And another thing, why should I help? Dark’s not my problem, and he shouldn’t be yours.”

“He’s going to hurt people,” Amy said quietly. “Which makes it our problem.”

“So?” Sean huffed. “People get hurt all the time, and the GAAP turns a blind eye. Why are they so suddenly concerned about them now?”

“Dark is going to hurt millions of people,” Tyler said. “Whatever he’s looking for, it’s going to kill planets.”

“Besides,” Mark said, folding his arms. “Even if it was one person, it’s my problem. I won’t stand by idly when I could help. I can’t.”

“Millions died when Scarlix was destroyed,” Sean growled, lowering his head and staring down at the floor. “The GAAP didn’t care then. Why should I care now?”

“We’re not asking you to care about the fucking GAAP,” Mark argued back. “We’re asking you to care about people.”

Sean clenched his hands. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to start sentences that went nowhere. Finally, he slammed the file down on the table, causing them all to jump.

“Fine. I’ll help. Don’t expect me to be happy about it,” Sean said.

“Thank you,” Mark said, smiling quietly. “Honestly. Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever, hero,” Sean huffed, his own smile breaking out. “You owe me big on this one.”

“Next Scarlix Day’s gift will be great. Just you wait,” Mark chuckled. The two stood, and Mark pulled Sean into a hug. “We’re helping people. Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Wheeeeee. It sure feels good helping the fucking government,” Sean said dryly, but Mark could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

.

.

“Sam, lights please.”

“Beep!”

“Be careful, Sean,” Robin’s voice said quietly in his ear. “This place is higher security than what you usually tackle.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sean muttered, his voice echoing more than he liked around the huge room. “I’ll be careful, dad.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just get into the files already.” Sean looked around. Line upon line of glowing computers lined the dark halls. The ceiling stretched up farther than he could see. Several dimly lit drones scanned the room, one barely sweeping under Sean’s position. Its line of sight was just below where Sean had plugged in a remote hard drive. Sam hovered above it, staring with his glowing eye. Sean hugged the wall, keeping an eye on the vent he’d crawled out of.

“There’s a lot of stuff in here. What exactly are we looking for?” Robin asked.

“Get the files; ask questions later,” Sean replied, curling tighter against the wall. “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“Okay, just a couple more minutes.”

“Sean, patrol coming. ETA five minutes,” Chase said in his ear, sounding more anxious than usual.

Sean checked the watch on his wrist. Ten minutes early. Why the fuck were they doing rounds early?

“Tackleball tournament,” Robin answered his thoughts. “They want to see the final playoffs so they’re doing rounds early.”

Sean had to refrain from groaning out loud. He’d never cared much for sports, and now it was going to actually kill him.

“Hold on. Just a few more minutes.” Robin’s voice was growing increasingly more anxious. “If it’s too long, get out of there.”

“I promised my friends I would get this,” Sean hissed under his breath. “I’m not going to let them down.”

“Cool. I am also your friend and I don’t want to see you die either.” Robin snarked back.

“Less talk-y more work-y.” Sean checked his watch again.

For a few tense moments there was nothing but the quiet whir of machines. Sean watched everything move, hoping that the doors on the far end would stay shut. For their sake, he hoped he wasn’t going to get caught today.

“Done.”

Sean grabbed the hard drive and slipped into the vents just as the door opened. The guards loudly talked and laughed, jibing each other about their differing teams. Sean slowly slunk away, looking through Sam’s night vision mode to see his way out.

That was close.

An itch in the back of his mind agreed.

.

.

“What do you think is on here?” Sean asked Chase, looking the little hard drive over with a hungry look in his eyes. “Big scandals? Government secrets? All the information about how that representative from Jythma spends all their money on gambling at Nihill Floating City casinos?”

Chase shrugged. “Yeah, probably. There is a lot on there.”

“We should look.”

“We should not look,” Chase countered.

“Why not?”

“Because that reasoning is the reason behind half your near death experiences.”

“Only half,” Sean argued amicably. “Besides, I can sort out half the junk in here before we send it to the Barrel, and then they won’t have to.”

The two sat in front of the dash. Chase mindlessly tossed screws into a cup while Sean sat in his chair, legs propped up on the dashboard. JJ cleaned in the background, dancing to music only he heard as he swept up Sean’s last meal.

“I’m looking,” Sean said, letting his legs hit the floor. Before Chase could stop him, he had already jammed the hard drive in and was scrolling through.

“Alrighty, sorting by X’s…” Sean muttered, eyes alight with eagerness.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Chase said, picking up the mug and dumping the screws out into his hand.

“Shush. Ooh, Xanhull: Earth 3430-3478. This looks interesting. What were Xanhull doing on Earth? Don’t you want to know?” Sean elbowed Chase as he opened the file.

“Not really,” Chase said, leaning in to read anyways.

For a moment, the two read in silence. The childish joy Sean had felt at breaking into GAAP’s most secure servers was quickly fading, replaced by cold horror.

“What the fuck?” Sean muttered, feeling sick. Image after image… lines upon lines of words invoking images in his head he couldn’t stop thinking about… Sean couldn’t bring himself to look away, learning more and more. As he finished, the horror and disgust were replaced with stubborn determination. He turned to Chase, shutting down the file.

“We need to tell the Barrel.”

[spaceiplier]

I LOVE the red eyed-Xanhull detail dudes please tell me more - are we talking red irises, or like completely blank red eyes?? cause either way 10/10 amazing chapter tysm

edit: im a fucking idiot who cant read sorry im very tired. uhhh yeah Mark has red xanhull eyes. Xanhulls eyes get brighter when theyre under extreme emotion. if you look back through old art, Marks eyes are red during extreme moments

- Eli

[spaceiplier]

are xanhull's marking specifically on the face or can they be on other parts of the body ?? also, would one ever try and cover their markings if maybe they needed to disguise themselves or they just didn't want to be known as a xanhull ??

They can be anywhere. And most don’t cover their markings anymore.

-Crow

[spaceiplier]

Ate there any slurs that people call the cast? Like from the human to the Xanhull to Android's, I think Mark was called a halfling so oof, but anything like that

People who have parents of different species are called gret as a slur

-Eli

[fischyplier]

❤

Found this old doodle of @spaceiplier‘s Xanhull Mark. Thought I would share, enjoy!