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A failure.

Two of them, in fact.

Yet only the deafening wail of a single infant could be heard.

Number Seven was soon to die from its own power surge, singeing its own baby fur, skin, and bones on violent bursts of intense yellow Akashic Energy. The small Procylanosan newborn crying in anguish and infant desperation, not knowing it was to meet its end if it couldn't stabilize itself. I must admit, it was hard to watch one of my own kind perish in such a way- but pointless sentimentalism wouldn’t help the universe, and most of all, it wouldn’t please our patrons. Science and progress need not emotions, but results… Sadly this infant was not a good result.

I glance to the right of the glowing and bleeding bundle of fur to our other… Bad result. It was a stark contrast- while number seven had gotten out of the incubation chamber kicking and screaming his life away in gruesome shows of uncontrollable power, number thirteen had died as soon as it tried to take its first breath. The child had gotten out of incubation with pure white milky eyes. Blind. No breath out of its lungs, it didn’t have the strength. No motor capabilities. No heat in its small frail body… No energy readings. A total waste of resources. A failure through and through.

But what could one expect of a baby Human?

It was no secret that Humans were incompatible with Akasha Energy almost a hundred percent of the time with a margin of error beyond microscopic measures. They can’t even survive basic radiation exposure. But alas, Thirteen had in its gene pool one notable subject of interest that our patrons were adamant we prioritize. They would surely be disappointed and angered by the news of their most anticipated investment not even taking its first breath.

I had been oh so wrong at that time.

“Dispose of them.”

I heard the cold voice of my then-superior, Dr. Vermux. His facial tentacle-like appendages writhing in clear disapproval and disgust at this failure.

“We already achieved more than enough with number one having perfect affinity, and number two having red pattern energy.”

He approaches the glass dividing us from the dying failure and the one that was already dead. He looks on in disappointment. “Our patrons will be sure to chop some heads after this, but we must make do with what we have.” He lowers his head.

“If I may be so bold to comment, sir.” I had said, using my privilege of rank as one of the main researchers to be bold enough to voice my concerns. “Number seven failing is within variances of error that could happen upon incubation end.”

Vermux looks at me, he had always respected me, an oddity since he seemed to only respect himself. He was a nightmarish individual to newcomers and lower-level personnel.

“But thirteen had developed well during incubation despite its species. Maybe we can learn something from dissecting the remains of both of them.” I had suggested, hoping to salvage our research. Make something good out of a dire situation.

Dr. Vermux thought it over, facial appendages idly swaying in thought. He flicks one of his wrists at the observation glass causing a holographic interface to appear in front of him. He reads some of the data that comes on the holo-screen, and with the press of a holographic button both of the failures’ medical pods open, a mechanical arm, grabs both the bleeding kit which was almost dead by now and the cold still one, placing them both unceremoniously on a nearby metallic table.

“Get Dr. Abryss and Dr. Wundergarg, and I want you overseeing the whole process O’Connor, no more mistakes.” Vermux turns to leave after barking out the orders.

“Yes sir, I will make sure to-” I stop in my tracks when I hear a particular sound… A beep. “This is…?” I ask, wondering if I imagined it… Another beep rings out.

Vermux and I turn toward the infants on the table in shock. That beep was a distinctive sound. The sound of a heart monitor… Thirteen's heart to be more specific.

“Wasn’t number thirteen dead?” Vermux asked. getting back in front of the security glass, the holographic screens confirmed our suspicions. More alarms go off from monitors for energy, motor, and oxygen levels. “This has to be a mistake! O’Connor, what in the hell is going on!?”

“I-...” Words died in my throat at that moment. Never in all my years had I experienced something like this. “I don't know, sir.” The visible energy that was coming out of number seven had started flowing toward the infant next to it.

“Is it-...?!” Vermux had trouble speaking as well. Number seven’s energy levels were starting to go down and stabilize as thirteen’s begun to steadily rise. “Absorbing the Akasha energy?” Thirteen’s skin was losing its pale tonality, its small body twitching and stirring as if it was willing itself to come back to life.

“It- It seems that way, sir.” The machines were going crazy, data appeared on the multitude of holographic screens in front of us. It was unmistakable. “It is both absorbing and stabilizing number seven’s energy.”

“I had never seen-” we jumped by a sudden noise, a noise new to our ears.

The sound of a Human baby giving its first cries.

We had looked at each other in wonder and joy. This was worthy of celebration, the advances that achievements such as this could bring were beyond our comprehension! This was a success like no other, not only had thirteen willed itself back to life somehow by doing something never seen before. It had also saved number seven in the process. For some reason, the wounds and blisters on seven’s small body were closing of their own volition, its cries resuming in full force but no longer fighting for dear life. A holo screen popped in front of me. I would never forget the sight it gave me, not for the remainder of my life.

It was a video feed looking down at the operation table on which both seven and thirteen were on, both crying and wailing in the way only newborn children could. My eyes teared up with emotion, the memory of my own children being born coming to my mind at the sight. Seven was clumsily reaching out with its tiny furless fingers, looking for something to grab onto, and being the only living being nearby those tiny fingers found themselves wrapping around thirteen’s weird Human baby hand. Both grasping for the nearest warm body for comfort.

In a fleeting moment, the camera captured both babies briefly opening their eyes. A perfect shade of glowing gold, so deep in fact that I’m reminded of my favorite Procylanosan Whiskey. Simple, beautiful, perfect, and an unmistakable success…

At least that was what I thought at the time.

If only I could have told my wife about this. If only I could have told my kids how their daddy would change the whole universe for the better.

If only-

If only the very same pair of glowing gold eyes upon an endless black sclera were not the last thing I would ever see. The very same Human I once thought to be a failure. The very same I would come to raise as if it were my own kit when they put me in charge of him. The very same one I would lie to, experiment on, hurt, love, nurture and read bedtime stories to.

My greatest success, and my greatest failure. All in one.

I wonder… if I had been honest with you.

If I had not been such a coward.

If I had said no to my superiors.

If I had helped you… Would you have turned out the way you did? Would you still have gone through years of hell as you did? Would you have done the things you did? What THEY made you do?

I wonder…

Would you have forgiven me then?

_________________________________________________

Ace

“We’re here boys!” Tap’s voice sings. The newly met fox-guy seems quite eager as we arrive at the secluded room he took us in. “I hope you find the accommodations I prepared for you to be to your liking!” He sounds like he doesn't get many visits.

“It’s shit as hell…” Ripley announces in a deadpan tone, sounding less than enthusiastic to my right. I have to admit I kinda agree with him. It is basically nothing more than a plain grey, four-walled, single room. Two beds opposite one another, a filthy, tiny couch covered in stains, the origins of which I don't want to know of lay between both beds. There is also what I assume to be a bathroom door hidden in the corner of the room.

“What!? How can you be so ungrateful? It has a fridge!!” The fox responds in indignation. Placing one of his hands on his chest as if Ripley's comment physically wounded him.

Looking directly at that same corner with a door, I can confirm that it does indeed have a fridge that is awkwardly close to the bathroom.

“That tiny thing don't even reach to my knees!” Ripley keeps protesting. I readjust my grip on him, given that it seems the artifact shut down and is no longer healing his wounds; he is no longer supporting his own weight as much as before. He has his left arm over my shoulders helping him keep standing semi-upright. He also favors one side over the other, and I believe there may be a broken rib as well.

“I smuggled some booze in it…” Fox-boy comments with a shit-eating grin. Bending down to open the tiny fridge, he pulls out a bottle and a small glass, then proceeds to pour himself a drink in a ceremoniously, fancy way. "Cheers!" He then plants his buttocks on the nasty red-faded sofa as he lounges with the drink in hand, his glowing light green eyes staring at us in invitation. He would look so menacing in this dimly lit room was it not for the dust and smell of the sofa that flew out when he sat down.

Ripley and I just stare at him in disbelief. How he smuggled this much stuff into a prison is beyond my understanding, but if he's anything like his reputation says he is, then he can virtually do and get whatever he wants here. Especially when you consider he can make the guards see a box of shoes instead of a fridge with booze with his kind of powers…

Those could be useful.

Oh, please. I ignore the presence of the huge imaginary canine sitting on one of the beds, he gives me a look of boredom.

I’m not asking for your input.

“You know what? With how much in pain I am right now, a drink sure sounds nice. I won't even question the absurdity of this all or the fact you may poison me and kill me with that, I honestly don't care at this point…” Ripley sighs as he detaches from me. He pitifully limps to the fridge struggling to bend down to do the same thing the Lisico did.

That reminds me-

“Good, you may need the alcohol for this next part,” I comment, walking to the door in the corner. “I trust THAT is a bathroom and that it has basic medical stuff, no?” I ask.

“Yeah, just check the cabinet. Only the best stuff for guests such as you, Mr. Butcher.” Ugh, I would prefer if he didn't call me that.

“Wait, what did you mean I won't like this next par-?” Ripley cuts in, but I quickly cut off the sound of his protest when I close the bathroom door.

Alone at last.

I ignore the mirror in front of the door of this awfully very small bathroom and head straight to what my intuition tells me is the cabinet. There should be stuff I can use to patch Ripley up in there. The bleeding may have stopped but the wound can reopen or get infected. I can't rely on the artifact healing him all the time, it's too unpredictable and it has the possibility of outright killing him instead of helping him… I can’t afford that.

Don’t you think it’s funny how much you know about tending to someone’s wounds considering you were once called ‘The Crimson Butcher’, oooh so scary- HAHAHAHA

The jackal-like alien in the mirror openly guffaws at me. Mocking me. He doubles over in laughter.

“I didn’t choose the name,” I whisper to him. Can’t have the other two hear me talking to myself in the bathroom and think I'm crazy or something.

I’m not crazy.

You sure?

Hush, let me concentrate for once.

My job is to torment you. Can’t blame me for wanting to make your existence hell.

I turn to the large dog now suddenly lounging in the bathtub.

“I liked you better when you were dead,” I whisper.

I AM still dead, remember? It’s all in your head.

I finally find some bandages but I still may need some more stuff. Maybe stitches?

“Then how come you are so talkative NOW? You weren't before, so what changed?”

Oh! There’s the suturing kit.

Who knows? Maybe because my replacement is currently not around or because Seven’s replacement is kinda dying- You sure like to associate yourself with people who look like those you killed in the past. Isn’t that creepy? I think it is.

I grab the stuff. “Styx isn’t your replacement and Ripley isn’t-” Looking into the bathroom mirror. I’m met with the dark brown, red-eyed Aswad’Yakul looming over my reflection.

Isn’t what? Can’t you even say it? Go on, admit how you are replacing your oh, so dear Procylanos with another one because you feel guilty.

“What happened with Whiskey isn't-... Wait.”

Upon closer inspection, there was something wrong in the mirror. It flashed on my vision as quick as lighting but it was still noticeable- There it is again. That faint purple tint near the corners of the surface. My sclera turns black and my eyes glow in my reflection as I examine the energy… Or rather lack thereof.

Why it seems there would be energy but… There isn’t? It’s completely grey. Is this one of the fox’s illusions? No, I would be able to tell with my eyes. The faded green Light pattern would be visible as clear as day.

There is a shift in my reflection, it’s as if my face is not quite right. My face, even covered as it is by the piece of cloth, seems to be smiling at me eerily. Blood drips onto my reflection's face slowly trickling over his features and morphing into a solid object… Something like a mask starts covering his entire face. The black and red apparel stares at me from the two black holes on its front. This-... This was the mask I used to wear when I worked for the Church of Light. More blood drips off of it in thick slimy drops. From the eyes holes, I can see a pair of crimson-red irises glowing, glaring at me with hatred and repulsion.

Suddenly their shade starts to shift to an intense violet… I-... I never had eyes like-

“What the fuck is going on?” I extend my hand toward the mirror, my reflection doesn’t do the same. It puts me on edge how it is just there, eerily unmoving.

I hear a knock on the door.

“Uh, Mr. Butcher, sorry to interrupt your search for medical supplies, but your partner is kinda dying over here.” I hear Zadhg’s voice and suddenly I’m back in a totally normal bathroom with a normal reflection staring back at me with its hand stretched out just like me. There is also the sound of things being knocked over and gurgling. What was that? Am I losing my head? and-

Wait- Ripley is what now!? SHIT!

I quickly grab the supplies I dug up and rush out of the bathroom, and sure enough, Ripley was collapsing on the ground. His body is erratically spasming, arcs of orange energy flowing out of his body as he clutches his chest, foam drips out of his mouth and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck.” I Gotta act quickly!

I quickly rush over to him, making a ball with the bandages I grabbed between my hands, and as best as I can I stuff them in his muzzle so that he doesn’t bite his tongue off. I then assess the energy state of the artifact with my eyes of Heimdallr.

With Ripley’s current state I can already imagine how the artifact is faring.

Just as I expected the thing is completely going crazy, the energy is painting the raccoon’s nervous system a bright incandescent color, Ripley’s body can't handle how much energy it’s producing.

I need to get rid of the excess energy, no matter what.

Putting my hand over his chest I push down with all my might to try to keep him as still as possible, which is easier said than done with how strong he is thrashing around.

Reach inside. Grasp into the core. Pull out.

I see all the color collect in a single point under my palm, Ripley arches in pain, one of his hands flies out to grab onto my forearm. He looks at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me not to let him die like this… I nod my head at him. There is no way I’m letting him perish like this.

As carefully as I can manage I pull my hand back, dragging all the excess energy out of the raccoon's body. His body visibly spasms as the violent heat comes out bundled up in a glowing ball of incandescent orange, immediately incinerating most of the prison shirt he was wearing, this reveals something like a glowing sideways hourglass-looking scar. Almost instantly after removing the ball of energy, Ripley’s body comes off from the seizure caused by the energy. He gasps for dear life as his lungs suddenly recover their capacity to breathe once more.

However, my work is still not done.

Make it your own. Appease it. Release.

I take a deep breath. The ball of energy in my hand starts slowly changing colors to a deep red. The heat emanating from it is still too much, the room is still encased in its unforgiving glow. I take another deep breath, focusing on the wavelength, shifting it to lower than even red. This causes its perfectly round shape to begin then to crumble as it starts to lose the intensity of its color in the form of colorless flakes breaking off its surface, slowly becoming transparent until it simply fades away into thin air.

Phew…

Ripley groans as his body just lays there heaving for breath, completely powerless to move an inch.

“That was way too close,” I comment, wiping the sweat from my forehead and taking a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I hear the sound of applause behind me.

“MAGNIFICENT!!!”

I raise an eyebrow at the clapping Lisico behind me.

“Is this funny to you!?” I glare at him.

Todgh gasps dramatically with what I now think is his trademarked 'hand over his chest' gesture. “OH! You wound me o’ Butcher mine!” He pretends to comically faint on the sofa. His obvious acting is broken by the mischievous grin he gives me. “Funny? No, my dear. ‘Entertaining’, is what I would call it.”

“Entertaining? I’m not sure I follow.” He chuckles lowly. He sits up almost properly. Crossing his legs and resting his head on one arm.

“You see. Crimson Butcher. I have everything I ever wanted here in Izolim. Men, women, all the food, liquor, and any kind of substances I can get my hands on… The only thing I can’t get…” He leans on his knees smiling even further. “Is entertainment.” He finishes. Energy oozing off of his frame.

“And I DO enjoy watching you and the shaky boy over there interact. It is a very welcome change of pace from the warring gangs and abusive guards inside this prison.” He leans back with an exaggerated sad expression. “I guess it's only fair that little poor me gets paid in entertainment since I didn't really ask for monetary retribution from your bosses…”

“I guess so,” I comment. Right, I remember now that our contact never asked the Fleeting Lights to pay him ‘monetarily’. I should have seen something like this coming… Though this wouldn’t be my first time paying in a non-money-related way.

“Don’t worry, I ask for no sexual entertainment. I get more than my fair share of that in here.” He makes a crude gesture with both of his hands. “Also, even if that were to be the case I'm afraid HE may just keel over during fun times.” He grimaces as he points a claw at the almost shirtless Procylanos on the floor.

I hear Ripley groan, struggling to do something as simple as rolling over… Poor guy. “Maybe we should discuss business tomorrow?” I offer. It must be nighttime already on this backwater planet and I really want this day to be over.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Let’s talk business tomorrow when he is less… Foamy. Ugh.” He finishes, honestly looking as if he is either taking pity or disgusted at how much of an unfortunate bastard Ripley is.

And honestly? I agree.

Soon after that our ‘Host’ leaves, closing the door behind him. Something tells me he may have locked it as well… Smart move, actually. I look around at the mess that Ripley made during his ‘artifact episode’. That thing is getting more unstable, and as I look at it again with my enhanced vision I still see faint pulses of energy traveling around the Procylanos’s nervous system. At this rate, we won’t get to the Fleeting Lights before that thing cooks Ripley inside out. Shame that I can't use my own Light to properly help him, but now that we are secluded and relatively safe in this room I can do something to help him get through this whole mess… Maybe.

Why do I never get the easy jobs?

None of our lives were easy, it would be stupidly unfair that you get to live easily- I once again ignore the dark brown canine in the corner of my vision.

“I swear to whatever deity that is out there that I may consider joining their freaky cults, sects, or fanbase as long as I don't go through THAT again.” Ripley deadpans from his position on the ground.

I chuckle despite myself. “Well, I heard there are some unicorn worshippers that believe in the magical excrement of their savior Flutter… something?” I half-joke. I HAVE heard of them. I also met one of their members… Not a fun guy to be around.

“I take back everything I said.” He immediately responds. I stifle another chuckle. I gotta admit that despite his horrible lack of social abilities, Ripley is not that bad to have around, he is funny at the very least.

I try fixing some of the mess he made. The good thing about a room this small is that there wasn’t much to mess with in the first place, only a few knocked-over stuff. “When you feel like getting up, sit by whichever of those beds. We gotta patch you up, and I may know of a way to tide over that pesky coil too.”

“Damn, wanting to get me in bed already? I’ll have you know I don't fuck with cheap-ass sluts whose faces I don't know.” He comments mockingly…

“Good thing I don't want to get you in bed, then. Also not a ‘cheap-ass slut’.” I add, smiling under the cloth covering my face. “But I guess you wouldn't know that since that seems to be the only action you can get.” I bite back.

He gasps, turning to look at me with a playful shocked expression. “You nasty bitch. That was a good one.” He comments with surprisingly no malice?

Good, we are making progress, I guess.

“I do pride myself in the hidden art of insulting, thank you very much. Now, sit with your back to either of those smelly contraptions Tehk seems to think are beds.” I’m almost done picking stuff up.

I grab some of the bandages that survived Ripley’s earlier episode and the suturing kit, I also grab the bottle of liquor, it has alcohol in it, and while it may not be the most adequate means to clean Rippy’s wounds at least it's better than nothing.

“Pretty sure his name was ‘Tadgh’.” Ripley struggles with his own tired body, but he does manage to do as I asked. “I also- Uh…” He looks to the side, avoiding eye contact. The inside of his ears tint pink, I swear his nose does as well. “I- Uh… Thanks… For helping earlier-” He coughs out the last bit like he didn’t want to hear himself say it.

Well, color me surprised. Here I thought he was just a nasty asshole.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you are okay now.” I try to smile at him. He just stares at me with an expression I can't quite make out before he whips his head around away from me.

Maybe smiling under a ripped cloth at someone isn’t as endearing as I hoped? I’m so used to having at least half my face covered that I forget people can't see my facial expressions… Though Stygian always seems to know even if I’m wearing a full-on helmet…

How does he do it?

Because he is fucking obsessed with you and-

“Are ya’ gonna stand there all night?” Oh right, Rippy is here.

I go over to where he is sitting on the floor with his back to one of the beds. They are low enough to the ground that when I sit down on them I have perfect access to Rippy’s back without having to bend down much. “Sit here between my legs and ditch the shirt, it is ruined already.” I try to tell him as gently as possible. I have a slight suspicion he doesn’t like to be ordered around.

“I thought you didn’t wanna fuck…” He raises an eyebrow, but to my surprise once again he does as told. He scoots over between my legs with a bit of effort as he starts ripping what remains of the tattered and singed prison shirt.

“I don’t. I just prefer to be comfortable while I work, and the less I have to bend down and extend my arms the more comfortable I’ll be.” I take note of the horrible scar on Rippy’s back, probably the one responsible for all or most of his enhancements. The thing goes all the way from the base of his tail up to just above his shoulder blades, it spreads along his back muscles like roots burrowing into the soil.

That must have hurt like hell when he got it. A spine upgrade is crucial for the kind of feats his relatively small body would have to endure. I also saw plenty of scars on his front when the coil burned his shirt, particularly that hourglass-like shaped scar….

I'm getting distracted again, there is stuff to do and I’m just here wasting time.

“This will sting,” I warn as I pour some liquor on a bundle of bandages.

“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” I resist the urge to say ‘From up here you don’t look that big’ specially now that I no longer seem to be on his bad side.

Without missing a beat I dab the alcohol-soaked bandages on any wound I lay my eyes on. Rippy hisses in pain, and his body flinches away on reflex every time I touch a new wound. They may have gotten pretty infected if I didn’t do this. They are already an angry red and pouring a nasty transparent liquid. Luckily this should be enough to avoid most of the danger until we get all this over with. During my ministrations, I also take note of the myriad of scars covering his body, whenever I move my hand I seem to find a new one, especially given how much surface my hand has to cover. Despite his relatively small height, Ripley looks-... Big. There is enough musculature around his arms and torso to clearly show the life he has lived is not an easy one, even clearer if you take into account all the scars. He has had to work hard to just keep his head above proverbial water, and it shows.

“I’m done cleaning your wounds, this next part is no less painful though. Do you want something to bite?” I offer as I reach for the suturing kit, even though I think I already know the answer.

“Just get it over with.” His tail grazes my leg. I take that as my cue. I grab the hook-like piece of metal and proceed to pierce the edges of Rippy’s wounds in order to get them properly closed. Rippy growls at first but quickly adjusts to the painful sensation. “How come if the Coil healed me before, it’s not doing it anymore, or healing my previous scars for that matter?” He asks between his teeth.

Probably trying to distract himself from the pain.

Pain can be ignored only temporarily, it always comes back eventually-

“I’ll assume you got the coil AFTER you got all these scars, so as far as the coil is concerned, not that it does feel concerned at all, these scars were always a part of you. Most mammalian bodies naturally heal damage by using the surrounding tissue around the wound as clues to what was damaged and what the repaired tissue should look like.” I explain while still fully focused on my task. I ignore how Rippy’s tail almost fully hooks around my right leg. “Maybe it used your current state as a base of how a ‘healthy’ Ripley is and only repaired what it considers it's damaged. As for these new wounds…” I pause to focus on a particularly difficult stab wound that I may or may have not caused when we fought earlier back at the undercity.

“I think as it gets more and more unstable, it shuts down halfway through the healing process or does not heal at all. Lift your arms, please.” I’m done stitching his wounds, I have to wrap some bandages around his torso to keep it tightly secured.

“Do you know why it is so different and… Weird now, why didn’t it go crazy before?” Rippy raises his arms and I have to lean down to be able to reach around his quite honestly kinda big torso. With how close my face is to his back it feels almost like I’m going to hug him from behind, but all I’m doing is wrapping some bandages around his torso…

Maybe I got too used to Stygian? Though I wouldn’t be able to wrap my arms around his huge torso in a million years. That dog should either lose some muscle or eat less…

Preferably eat less, that way he doesn’t get us broke all the time.

“I think I have an idea of what it may be, but I don't really want to jinx it or be completely wrong. I’m by no means an expert in A.E.R. coils that are this strong, much less so if they are inside somebody’s chest.” I then dress the other wounds that are not on his torso now that I’m done with the others.

“Fuck… Are ya’ sure those friends of yours can help?”

“Don’t worry, once we get to the Fleeting Lights HQ they’ll leave you as good as new!”

“I’m not worried…”

“Sure… Anyways, we are done on this part.”

I lean back to admire my work. Ripley stands up and takes a moment to look himself over, seeming pleased with what I did. I admit it’s not my best work but It’s more than enough for now. “Heh, not bad… For a humie.” He comments mockingly with a soft playful undertone.

“Careful, Procylanos. I may not have my light but I can still kick your butt.” I say playfully. “Now that we got the easier part done, we begin with the real unpleasant section and you really want this ‘Humie’ to make it as painless as possible.” I wink. He visibly gets a bit paler.

“What is this part about?” He asks with caution.

“I’ll force that thing on.” I point to the raccoon’s chest. He jumps in reflex. “And use its own energy against it,” The Procylanos raises an eyebrow and tilts his head in confusion-. I love when his kind does that. They look adorable- even if the individual is a mean, angry, foul-mouthed criminal covered in scars.

“Bitch, what is ya’ talking about?”

“Just try to relax, lean back, and just… Reach out.” Ripley sits down once again on the floor between my legs.

“Reach out? this isn't some kinda spiritual Mamboo Jamboo, right?” He leans his head back to look at me. His orange eyes do stand out in this lighting.

“‘Mumbo Jumbo’, and no. You were able to call on the power of the coil by yourself before, so you may be able to do it again. I need you to ‘wake it up’ so that I use its energy to put a block on it. Since I can't use my Light because of this.” I signal the collar with the blinking dot wrapped around my neck. “I will have to use its energy if we want to have a chance to make it work.”

“I still don’t understand how your space magic works, it ain't like all the other ones I saw at all.” He deadpans.

“My abilities are weird, I’ll tell you about them someday.” I place my arms on his shoulders. His fur is surprisingly soft to the touch. “Now focus.”

“Bitch, focus on what, Panini is usually the one that helps me with this damned thing and you saw what that’s got me!?” He protests.

“Just- close your eyes, and picture a flame in your mind.”

“Da fuck!? A flame!?”

“JUST DO IT!!” I pull out the intimidation card with my eyes of Heimdallr. “Please…” I add at the end.

“Okay- fuck! Stop being a bitch about it!” It worked. Unbelievable.

Ripley closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath. I see the artifact pulse a bit of energy, but not nearly enough. Rippy’s shoulders relax and I start massaging them to help him relax further. He visibly deflates when I start running my fingers through the fur on his back, his breaths become more relaxed and drawn out.

He is almost there.

“You are doing great, just a couple of deep breaths.” I encourage him. I position my left hand on the left of his upper back, right where his heart should be from the back. My right-hand moves up the spot behind where his right ear connects to his head. I can feel Rippy’s body get goosebumps in the palm of my hands when I start softly scratching with my right hand.

Whiskey loved when you did that, and here you are claiming this clown ain’t his replace-

“Now Rippy. I need you to think of the coil being that flame in your mind. Can you do that?” He mumbles a positive response, too focused on the sensation behind his right ear, he even leans his head toward my hand. It is always easier for people to focus when they are feeling comfortable. “I want you to make that flame a bit bigger,” Rippy mumbles another response.

Sure enough, I see the silhouette of the coil light up in color inside his chest. It’s not enough energy to hurt Ripley yet, But given a few minutes, it would surely do some damage. I focus on my left hand still on his back. “Now, this will be harder, I want you to hand it to me. Can you feel my hand on your back?”I wiggle my fingers to make it easier for him to have a reference point for the position of my left hand.

He groans in effort, obviously feeling the effect of the coil, already gathering energy. As soon as I feel enough energy reach my left hand I start converting the energy as my own, just like I did earlier, only this time I won’t dissipate it into nothing… However, this will hurt like a bitch to him. “Would you like something to bite?”

“Why? What-” Before he can think too much about it I act quickly before he focuses too much on the pain he is about to feel.

I pull the energy out of his back violently as he shouts in discomfort. There is no blood or wound from my sudden movement thanks to how he basically ‘surrendered’ the energy to me. I have to do it quickly and violently otherwise the coil will pull the energy back into itself.

Sorry, Rippy-boy, this is all to help you, I swear.

Just like you helped those you-?

“Fuck, DO IT ALREADY!” Ripley demands between clenched teeth.

As soon as the energy shifts its color to a crimson red I manipulate it to form energy strings, letting go of them and willing them to wrap several times around the coil. The ghostly strings pass through Ripley as they tangle and constrict the coil, trying to snuff out as much of its glow as possible. Rippy for his part grabs onto the bedframe for support to resist the searing sensation he must be feeling right now. The strength of his enhancements causes the poor thing to collapse under his colossal grip.

“We are almost done!” I encourage him, once again. “You are doing great, Rippy!” not the best encouragement in the world, but it helps. I think?

After a few seconds of shouting and destroying the bed frame with his grip, Ripley collapses once more. Though this time in relief as red Light strings finish wrapping around the coil. stabilizing its energy output. The Procylanos pants with half his tongue out. I don't blame him for being tired, he probably has gone through more shit and pain today than he has for an entire cycle! Thankfully he won't have to worry about that pesky artifact for the near future as long as I’m around…

Though there is another issue…

“All done, You should be fine as long as I’m not too far from you.” I get up from the mess of what was left of the bed. “But you did fuck up my bed…”

He chuckles through tired breaths. “It’s payback for putting me through this shit.” He turns to look at me.

It’s weird. He is so much like Whiskey, but so different at the same time. He also looks so much like his father physically that it leaves me speechless. His fur pattern is an exact copy of the doctor's something his species is known for. This Alien right here is so new in my life but he reminds me so much of my past. Of the things I did, things I wish to forget… In a way, I should hate him. Despise him. Maybe even be afraid of him.

But somehow I can’t.

As I remain looking into his eyes I can't find it in myself to feel anything negative. He in turn is doing the same as me. It feels like he is having a glimpse of my soul with those eyes of his. I wonder what is going through his head. Maybe he-

“OH FOR THE LOVE OF AL-MALIK, JUST FUCK ALREADY!!!” A voice shouts

Who the hell-?

“GET THE FUCK OUT, YOU FUCKING PERVERT MOTHERFUCKER!” Ripley shouts, and I see a huge shadow move across the room accompanied by a loud crash. It takes me a moment to take in the scene in front of me.

Ripley had grabbed what remained of the broken bed frame and threw it at the drama-loving Lisico that had come back and was apparently poking his head from the door to spy on us, probably waiting for something that interested him to happen. The fox-guy nimbly evaded the huge object thrown at him and escaped through the door, locking it once again behind him as he shouted about how the sexual tension was killing him…

What in the name of the first Light is this job?

I don’t know about you, I find it quite entertaining. It’s great to see you struggle so much. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

_____________________________________________________

Sometime later

_____________________________________________________

“I want you to know that I’m only doing this because I HAVE to, and I am not enjoying this in any way, shape, or form.”

“Sure,” I reply to Ripley as I finish getting comfortable on my side of the bed.

Since Ripley fucked up the other one by throwing it across the room and smashing it against a reinforced door, I was left without anything to sleep on. At least I managed to get him to agree to not leave me sleeping on the floor, his only condition was that we would be sleeping upside-down relative to each other because he wasn’t ‘comfortable’ being on the same side of the bed as me, and to avoid more arguments I just grab a pillow and take my place at the foot of the bed. If Styx were here he would make a comment on how this was a 69 sleeping position or something…The cramped space on the bed felt even more cramped when it has two people on it, and while he may be smaller than me his hunky build meant he took his fair bit of space. When I look down at his side of the bed my view gets obscured by his paws and the rest of him taking more than half of his side. “Let me just tell you that you are lucky your feet don’t stink or I would have done to you what you did to the other bed,” I comment in annoyance, it's not that I have anything against paws, just that unclean and stinky feet are a total annoyance.

“Hey, they gave you basic-ass shoes and socks while I didn’t get the same luxury!” He protests in annoyance while scratching his belly. “My kind has sensitive hands and feet and those bastards don’t give me nothin’ to cover em’. Bunch of specieist creeps!”

His kind did have higher than ‘Standard mammal’ sensitivity in their hands and feet, but I wouldn’t call that behavior ‘specieist’. More like they simply just forgot or didn’t know about that fact.

“There are still some bandages left, and I can also repurpose some of the fabric of the bed you fucked up to come up with something for you tomorrow.” Ripley raises his head to look at me with suspicion in his eyes.

“And why would you do that?” That is a good question. One that I don’t have the answer to.

“I already saved your stripped butt more times than you can count today. What’s helping you with some minor stuff tomorrow?”

“You only saved me because you need me alive to retrieve the coil safely…” His tone is kinda… Disappointed? he flops back on the bed.

“That isn’t entirely true…”

“What would the entire true be then?”

“I don’t know. Guess you seemed like a nice guy to be imprisoned with, maybe get perv on by a weird crazy Lisico. What are your thoughts on kidnapping a few grandmas next?” I lie.

He snorts a laugh. It is a nice sound despite everything. His voice is nice to hear, it isn’t overly deep like Styx’s, and when he isn’t yelling he even sounds friendly.

“Only if you pay me.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and despite myself, I find a couple of chuckles escaping from my lips.

“And here I thought I could get away with just paying you with the amazing power of friendship.”

“Friendship don’t pay no bills. It’s why I don’t have many of those.” He laughs it off, yet to me, there is a hidden bitterness in that statement.

The conversation keeps going back and forth for a few minutes before dying down. Ripley falls asleep midway through him telling me a story about how he once stole a dick-shaped diamond from some stuck-up rich aliens. His soft snores were a clear indication that he was out like a light, I assume he must have been really tired. His whole day was spent getting beaten down by different people, myself included, and a device that is hell-bent on killing him and saving him at the same time, he also found out that his employer was using him as a sacrificial lamb for unknown reasons. He got poisoned TWICE by Stygian and attacked by black gooey creatures… Yeah, the poor guy needs a break.

From our brief interactions, I also get the idea that he is a very lonely, yet prideful guy. He would rather die alone in a ditch than ever ask for help despite being in obvious need of it. The only reason he accepted my help was that his sister was involved in this mess somehow. Thinking about it, this whole thing seems very weird to me. As I lay in this stinky bed looking at the ceiling and hearing Ripley's soft snores I can't help but feel like I’m being set up for slaughter or something.

First of all, why did Ripley's employer, that 'Serrano' guy wants to get a hit on the F.L.? He would be basically making enemies of one of the most powerful intergalactic groups for no apparent reason. Second of all, why Ripley? The son of one of the people I killed in my past, it's enough of a coincidence that he was one of my targets, let alone that I now have to take care of him and take him to the Fleeting Lights.

I look down at the snoring raccoon. He looks so peaceful like this when he is not perpetually scowling or being a dick. He also looks so much like his father that it is uncanny. He is basically a carbon copy of him.

Third of all, Why does he remind me so much of Whiskey? Sure, Whiskey wasn't as angry as Ripley is, but he was just as stubborn and their mannerisms are pretty similar too. It's like I'm being taunted just by his presence.

"And then, there's you," I whisper looking to the side.

Sitting among the remains of the bed is my former bully. The huge muscular canine is watching me with his red eyes. A grin that is too big for his face adorns his features.

What about me? I'm just enjoying the show.

"You have always been a pain in the ass ever since I killed you. Not surprising since my mind is fucked up either way." I glare at him. "But you spent all day being particularly more chatty and nosy than usual, only to barely say anything when I interacted with Ripley. Don't pretend I haven't noticed that."

He guffaws loudly, I'm glad Ripley can't hear the imaginary high-pitched cackles only Chuckle can make come out of his maw. The sound of it makes a chill run down my spine.

You were always so attentive to anything out of the ordinary. Always saw danger before any of us ever could.

"Don't play coy with me." I try not to elevate my voice, though something tells me Ripley wouldn't wake up even if a gun went off right now.

Who knows? Maybe you two look good together. Misery loves company, no?

He laughs some more before slowly fading away. The sound of his laughter lingers a bit even after he is completely gone. I glare at the now empty spot, anyone that has seen as much weird stuff as I have would come to the same conclusion.

Someone definitely has their hands on this. It's just too much coincidence that all of these related events are happening all at once. I would understand some parts being a mere stroke of fortuitous luck, but as of right now it's just too much 'fortuitous luck' to be considered as such.

"No, don't do the whashismagoo'..." I hear Ripley sleep-mumble. He doesn't seem to be awake at all. "Rika, ah' swear he just a friend. He ain’t no boyfrien’ get da’ fuck outta me room."… especially when he spews more nonsense out of his mouth.

At least he doesn't make as much noise as Stygian, I swear that big dog could wake up the dead with his snores alone. Ripley's soft snores and nonsensical mumbles are nothing to me in comparison, and with how tired he must be I have to admit that he earned a good rest. His anger issues aside, most people would not be so calm if they had gone through the day he just had.

I guess I also need a rest, and despite what some may say, I'm only Human. If I don't take care of my biological needs I'm not going to be accomplishing anything, or living for long. one miss step from being too tired could cost my life and I can't die yet. I still have stuff to do, mistakes to repair, an immortal canine to feed, and so on.

Looking down I see Ripley, turning in his sleep reaching for my leg that is closest to him and snuggling it as if it were a pillow or something. In a way, I'm envious he can sleep so soundly after the day we had, but I guess beggars can't be choosers? Deciding to just let Ripley hug it out with my leg I just close my eyes. Tomorrow is another day, the mission is still ongoing and I need to be on my best game possible.

______________________________________

The city is busy. Very busy.

People come and go from nowhere and everywhere in a trance-like motion. Too preoccupied with their lives and where they should be next. Their bodies basically go into autopilot.

On a day such as this, when the suns are bearing down on the citizens of this peaceful planet I find myself alone on the street.

Or so I would have thought.

"About time you showed up!" Whiskey says as he approaches me from across the street, the Procylanos looks annoyed. His perfectly golden eyes glare at me in disapproval. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, Thirteen!" He complains, walking over to me. The light of the sun reflects off his brown fur, giving him an almost ethereal glow in my eyes. his clothing is very casual and suited for this temperature, "Plus this heat is horrible, man!" He exaggerates, faking to be having a heatstroke as he pants and blows air at his face with his right hand. I can't help but laugh at his antics, he always made it his personal mission to complain about everything in a hilarious manner. I swear to the light, when he wasn't complaining about something, he was looking for something to complain about. It always made me laugh though.

"What were we doing again?" I don't really remember how I got here to be honest. Where is here exactly? This planet doesn't seem familiar.

"Gee, thanks for forgetting we were going out today, you asshole…" he deadpans with sarcasm. He reaches for my hand. I instinctively give it to him. "Come on, T! There is this nice place that serves Oblohn octopus, but there's always this fucked up line of people and I don't want to do no line, Thankyouverymuch." he chimes as he pulls me along.

In a way, it was always comforting. No matter what, I could always count on Whiskey to just pull me along for the ride. He was always stubborn, focused, and very sure of what he wanted. Sometimes it's nice to just follow along with somebody that has their shit figured out, someone that is a constant in your life, a rock so to speak. Whiskey was my rock…

That makes me sound like an alcoholic, now that I think about it.

"We are here." Whiskey says as we arrive at a humble-looking restaurant. Its exterior is decorated with scratches, and flakes of paint falling off, and some raw bricks could be seen on the walls. Despite its rough exterior, there was a huge line of Aliens waiting for entry just like my companion had said. "I know, I told you it was gonna be full as fuck."

Did he just read my mind? What-

"What can I get for you?" The feline-looking waitress asks us, pen and paper at the ready.

What the fuck? I feel like a truck ran over me. We are suddenly sitting at one of the tables, and the crowd of people inside the restaurant talk and laugh, yet I can't seem to make out their faces. "Were we not outside just a second ago?" I ask Whiskey across for me in confusion. Did we skip the line somehow? What happened?

"What do you mean, T? We spent an hour under these friggin' suns to get here." He raises an eyebrow, looking at me as if I just suddenly grew a pair of heads and started break dancing. "You know what? Let's just get something to eat. I'm starving after all the waiting we just did." He turns to the waitress to order. I guess if Whiskey says it that means it's true… But why don't I remember waiting in line?

Whiskey orders the octopus with an extra big ration of fries for both of us. The waitress tells us that the food will take a while because they have too many clients today and they are low on personnel. As soon as she leaves I lose her from sight like she just blinked out of existence. No matter where I look I cannot find her and I can't seem to make out the people around me. It's like looking into a blurred image, shapes blending together, distant laughter with no discernible indications of where it was coming from. I feel a headache ring inside my skull, I try focusing to make it go away and it feels like everything gets quiet for a moment.

"Hey, you feeling okay, T?" All the noise comes back like wildfire. Whiskey looks worriedly at me from across the table. The enticing aroma of food reaches my nostrils. When had the food arrived?

"I'm-..." I take pause, assessing my state. Truth is, I don't feel too good. I feel weird. I feel like something is crawling around the place even though there is nothing but people. Should I tell him and make him worried?

"You're…?" He urges me on. His furless hand reaches across the table to grasp mine, the 'VII' tattooed on his hand almost glistening in this lighting. His eyes lock with mine in a curious gaze. I could never get tired of looking at those golden orbs of his.

"I'm fine, just probably sleepy." I brush it away, trying to look out one of the windows. I can only see empty streets. No sign that there was ever a line outside, not even a vehicle of any kind.

"Figures, where were you this morning? You weren't there when I woke up, and I woke up early as fuck, let me you that." I whip my head around. There is no longer food in front of me. Whiskey is licking one of his clawed fingers, dragging his tongue slowly over each digit, trying to put on a show.

"I- uh…" I struggle to find the words. My plate was empty, but there were signs that food had indeed been there. I can see leftover ketchup and crumbs on my plate. When did I eat this? Also, why does Whiskey's question make no sense to me?

"I wasn't there?"

"No, doofus. I thought ya' were staying till' tomorrow. You said were gonna help me repair the bike, and watch that new horror movie at night, remember?"

"I did?"

"Yeah. Oh! And before I forget, Kaipirie called, she wanted to know if we were going to the party?" Who is-?

"Number twelve?" I recall the gray-maned lizard that grew up with us.

"Come on, dude." He reprimands me. "You nicknamed her and you wanna call her by her number?" he raises an eyebrow in a playful gesture.

"You called me Thirteen earlier…"

"That's only cuz' you made me wait half an hour for you, you ass." He pouts.

"Anyways, she and the others were wondering if we could come by, have some cold ones, and chill for a while." His clawed thumb draws circles on the top of my hand. "Also, don't worry. She didn't invite Chuckle." He smiles, he never liked the Aswad'Yakul. Whiskey despised how much the canine bullied me when we were kids most of all, always coming to my aid when I needed him.

But wasn't Chuckle de-?

It's a trap

"Huh?" I look at Whiskey in confusion. "Did you hear that?" It sounded familiar somehow.

"What? There is a fuck-ton of people talking and yelling, T." He once again looks at me like I'm crazy. "Hmm. Maybe we should just head back to my place, you still owe me help with fixing my bike." He stands up, reaching for my hand once again. I reach my hand towards him and-

Look around you. There is no one.

I retract my hand midway. Whiskey visibly flinches for some reason. I look around me and realize that yes, there is no one around me. It's only Whiskey and me. In fact, other than the inside of the restaurant itself there is absolutely nothing here.

"Uh, T?" Whiskey calls for my attention. His fur looks disheveled. His eyes look as if he has been crying. "I don't feel too good. Let's just head home okay?"

Home… What was your home again? Did you ever have one?

Think.

"Home?" I ask. Whiskey pulls on my arm, yet I don't move.

He wanted to build a home for the two of you.

"Come on, man! Let's just-" he stumbles over his words, he keeps pulling on my arm. "Forget all this and have some fun! Just like yesterday when we were at it all night long and-"

"Really? I don't remember any of that." Whiskey gets paler.

Do you remember what happened to them?

To Whiskey and the others?

"You are being a total dick, man!" He uses both hands to pull on me, yet I still don't move a single inch from my spot. The restaurant we're in gets darker and darker each second. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to see you? How long I've been wanting this? Don't do this to me."

You killed them…

Every. Single. One.

"Are you really going to waste this chance? We can finally be together and you can't man up and just come with me!" He yells at me, fangs bared.

Why did you kill them when you loved them so much?

"I swear to Light, Ace if you don't come with me I'll-"

“Ace, huh?”

Like a tidal wave, everything fades, the building we were in shatters like cheap glass. Pieces of it fly every which way. Tables dissolve into ash that flies off into an endless black void. The walls and the ceiling crumble into nothing. The once-blue sky breaks like a mirror, giving way to the same black nothingness that permeates everything around us. The being in front of me is just speechless. He looks at me with tears in his eyes, a look of betrayal and shock stares back at me. He looks down at the glowing red blade going through his chest and a sob scapes his frame.

"Whiskey never knew me as 'Ace'..." I say coldly. I now know what this is, I remember everything now. I twist the hard light blade. "I find it disgusting that you are soiling his memory with this poor excuse for a script," I spit out with venom. More blades appear around us, all of them pointing at him. "Stop playing with my head, and tell me who the hell are you…"

“Why don’t you want to be happy?” He speaks as if he didn't have a blade made out of energy halfway through his chest.

“That is not what matters right now. You are the one playing with my head, are you not?”

“So perceptive.” That voice isn't coming from him.

“A wonderful creation by those pesky ants.” Ants?

“It hears us.” It's like whispers coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The being in front of me just sobs, and I somehow KNOW he isn’t the one speaking right now. It feels like several things are involved.

“No matter. It won’t remember this when It wakes up.”

I feel something pulling on my limbs.

“Shouldn’t it? I was hoping to see how it affected this path.”

“Lets us not fret over little things. Such is the will of things.”

“It is not ready.”

“When will it be?”

“Perhaps never. Perhaps soon. Sometimes it perishes before it can draw its first breath and doesn’t come back.”

“It wouldn’t know about that.”

“I have hopes that one day among the infinite paths it will.”

“Our sibling likes it.”

The not-Whiskey sobs harder. I can barely move. Whatever this is, it feels like my mind shouldn't be here, shouldn't hear, shouldn't comprehend. I feel like my limbs are made of steel. I can't move.

“It is scared.”

“That is not fear.”

A Black, thick liquid-like substance crawls over my limbs. My energy blades dissipate into nothing, swallowed by the infinite darkness surrounding us. Not-Whiskey tries speaking through his sobs as he watches me get swallowed by this perpetual blackness. “I’ll try again. I’ll try over, and over, and over, and over again.” He also dissipates into nothing. I try to scream, but I feel nothing come out, my mouth feels like it’s stitched together. “I’ll try until you finally see. Until you finally know what you need to know. I’ll try, yes. I will.” I feel something impossibly cold and wet touch the side of my face. I try to move away from it, but I’m completely stuck in this blackness, there is no color in here. No life. No death. Nothing.

“It is struggling to adapt.”

“Will it make it?”

“Perhaps. It has perished in all the other paths.”

“Why is this one different?”

“The variance is not clear.”

So many voices. How many are there? How can they be so loud yet so silent? Please stop this!!

“Hush, child.”

“You will wake from slumber. This is not one of your many ends.”

“You’ll forget.”

“You always do.”

“Until you don’t…”

“The answers will reveal themselves to you eventually.”

“At least to one iteration of you.”

I think I see something.

“Oh?”

“It sees?”

“No. Not completely.”

“But it sees something…”

I think I can roughly make out something… A shape of some kind…

“Only a fraction.”

“This is one is promising.”

Oh fuck.

“We shall keep observing.”

“After all…”

“Time is nothing to us.”

What the fuck is that!?!?