Chapter Text
Simon rose from the ground, leaving a puddle of inky black liquid in his wake. He fights back a snarl (and a gag) as he sees his enemy, groaning in pain on the floor of the void, a splitting image of a similar woman he knew, yet stinking of a disgusting dark aura and donning an unfamiliar black-green motif. Halo raised up high and eyes aflame, he scoops up Rae as he feels two more people approaching his presence. Praying the Watcher of the Void nor the Planetary spot him or follow him, with a flick of his inky tail he plunges into the puddle once more, bringing his injured friend with him and leaving nothing more but the dead carcass of the Fox of Dreams.
Not like he cared anyway.
As the Archivist speeds back to the Hallways through the void, feeling the slick of travelling through the code fibres of the universe they resided within, he heard Rae mumble in his tight grip. “I was right. I was right before.”
“Save your energy, we’ll be there soon.” Simon realizes he has veered slightly off course and gets back to the intended route.
“Si, she really has gone off the deep end.” Rae laughs, tears in her eyes. “She can't be saved, or more like, I can’t either, none of us can be.” She trails off, before choking on tears. (mixed with blood as well, Simon guessed, he could feel his shirt was getting awfully wet from the blood pooling out from the multiple wounds on her. He feels himself panic, but presses it down. He has to get back, or it will be all for nothing.)
He grimaces when his side grazes harshly against a tight corner. “Hush Rae, we can escape all this in the end, someday. We just haven’t tried hard enough…”
A cackle of laughter swirled with a heavy tone of despair rang in his hearing as he felt himself getting closer to their destination. “Haven’t tried hard enough?” Her voice was dangerously low. “Simon, we risked our fucking lives, mine, yours, Tristan’s. Hoping time and time again she’d finally give us all the closure we needed, the truth, an explanation of why Wishy did all that to me specifically, and yet…” she laughs again bitterly. “Maybe if I just ran faster that day, all those timelines from today, I-“
“Shh, now isn’t the time to blame yourself Rae, save your energy.” Simon feels for the gap between 1s and 0s in the chaotic space, he pulls himself together from snapping under the headache the energy alone was giving him. “We can try again in the next and final cycle. Maybe we’re just doing it wrong, there has to be a way, and we’ll find it no matter how long it takes. And even in the end we never do, I’ll promise this. I’ll promise that as you move on and recover, I’ll be there for you when no one is.”
“Si…” Rae’s voice cut off into a cough, and what was left of his heart shatters into pieces. “There won’t be any other cycle left for us. Cycles, she-”
He cradles her close as his nerves rise to an all time high when his claws just couldn’t find a gap. “No, no. Time’s not up for us yet, you have to go back with me. Cycles still hasn’t caught up to us, we can still try!”
“You’re wrong Simon.” Rae’s glassy gaze still was somehow sharp enough to pierce through him. “She’s caught on, she’s coming for all of us. The reason Sune was a mangled corpse…Cycles deformed her.” Just as Simon’s claws finally catches onto a ridge in the fabric of code,she heaves a bigger gasp for air, before painfully coughing the oxygen back out of her lungs. “And I don’t have much time either. Sune really…really did a number on me.”
Simon’s voice dies into a whimper, and for a moment, everything seemed so far away, his grip loosened on the body he held onto like his lifeline. “But what am I to do without you?”
Silence washed over the duo as Simon finally tears the gap open and pulls himself and Rae in.
In the midst of the bright light, Simon heard Rae chuckle, voice mired in an edge of teary.
“Trust in yourself. Go on without me.”
The world faded to a blinding white as gravity seems to pull Simon off of his feet and into a tumble.
Thump.
Simon blinks from his precarious position of a lump on the ground, his eyes taking in a familiar environment.
Golden halls, tall and simple archways, a marble railing, a soft light bathing the hallways in an odd sense of desolate cold.
Maybe it was because of the missing heaviness in his arms that gave him a cold emptiness in his chest, but his eyes caught on something that immediately numbed that pit with a burning rage.
And sure enough, not far away, an equally familiar figure faced him.
“Archivist.”
“Cycles.” Simon scowls.
“You’ve successfully derailed the timeline again. Good job.” The divinity’s navy blue eyes bore into his soul, and her smile cut a sense of fear into his conscious. “But, I’ll fix your mistakes, by reverting it all back to zero. ”
“I don’t think you’re doing that.” A golden lance whizzes by, nearly hitting Cycles as they jump back in surprise. “Laverne Cycles…” Simon lets out a forced grin “A name originating from the Roman goddess of thieves… fitting for a god who stole everything from me for the sake of your petty ideals of a story.” His expression sours.
Laverne’s smile dims to a neutral tight-lipped smile. “Your intentions, Archivist?”
“To destroy you, and to finally free us from your puppetry, putting us through mental torture over and over again in pursuit of some imaginary perfect ending of a story.” Simon glares at her. “Don’t you feel a little remorse for what you’ve done, surely a god would feel something for its people, right?”
“Archivist. You’re on thin ice. Cease your attempts,” Laverne’s tone crescendos into a more pointed vibe. “-or I’ll be forced to stop you myself.”
Simon only grins with nothing short of annoyance and fire. “Laverne, I didn’t do all of this just for you to stop me.” Golden spears materialize next to him upon the puddles of goop that melted onto the ground. “If I came for something, I’ll get it with my own hands, even if it means usurping your position and disrupting this universe right here.”
Laverne raised her eyebrows “Well, if you say so, Archivist. I’ll not be holding back.”
A familiar set of blades materializes in the god’s hands, Simon dodges every swipe with some difficulty, the daggers slashing at him at overwhelming speed. He winces as his left hand gets slightly cut, but stands his ground, throwing a barrage of lances towards the god, as they jump aside with little to no effort.
“You know, Archivist. I truly believe honesty is the best policy. I'm realistic, unlike you. I, as a purely logical algorithm, is able to see the truth of all things, the system of Cycles are for the better. But you simply cannot see that, could you?” The Law lets out an annoyed grunt as a couple more lances fly by her side, one of them catching into her cape. “You are too blind, you simply cannot see a different side of things, you can’t consider others feelings. You’re selfish, trampling on others just because you’re “tired”, when you in reality just can’t stand their personality compared to your oh-so high and mighty one, yet you additionally confuse them with your withdrawal, making them feel lost and puzzled. And when you finally explode, you only hurt them more than you already have.” Simon grumbles as he watches Laverne dodge another barrage of lances that rained upon them. “Are you truly the soulless eldritch monstrosity created from the Void like you always were meant to be from the start?” Her eyes briefly flash a bright orange. “Because to me, it truly seems like you don’t care about anyone, your friends…Rae…” Laverne’s smile grows sharp. “All just passersby to whatever meaningless destructive goal you set yourself upon.”
“Is she not right?”
Simon shook his head and grimaced against the stray thought. “I won’t give in…” He swiftly turns to face the flying dagger that nearly hits him as he throws himself backwards. “...and I will never do!”
“Don’t you feel guilt for that, A2?” Simon winces at the use of his old name. “You blame others for what in truth are your own mistakes and meaninglessly antagonize them! How exciting.” Laverne lunges for him, blades by her side. “I wonder what you think you’d gain from all of what you’ve done. You were simply trying to victimize yourself just to protect your fragile ego against the truth. The truth that you- ” Laverne dodges another lance aimed right for her head. “-are the PROBLEM!”
Simon felt his limbs drag across the floor as he growls, gritting his teeth as he braces himself for the onslaught of the god’s attacks.
But what if…?
The daggers by Laverne’s side form into a lance. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”
“Please, do us a favor and shut up.” Simon growls as he blocks a heavy swing, the golden lance cracking under the impact.
Laverne sneers. “Rude. That’s why you are so lonely. You push people away, you refuse to believe the words they say and yet you cling to those same people you hurt, you can’t accept the fact you are a nightmare to everyone, a parasite , unpredictable and sour. You bring nothing but destruction and chaos your way. You drag as many people into your messes, using their empathy to take on every single repercussion that comes from your actions.” “It wasn’t her who was in the wrong, A2, it was you all along.” As usual, the fight continued with neither side budging, cantaloupe blades and lances intercrossing with flying lemon-gold lances
Laverne’s smirk was like an enraging taunt to the Archivist, as he steels himself to continue fighting. “You’re imagining all those scenarios in your head, about those times you are left alone. In reality, you aren’t. You’re just so sick in the head you thought imaginary scenarios in your head were real, when they aren’t.” A yell escapes his throat when Laverne teleports behind him in the blink of an eye, grabs him by the collar, and stares into his panicked, vengeance-ridden glare, her navy-blue eyes reflecting the deepest darkest abysses of the seas. “You push them away because you believe what your mind is telling you, but it’s your mind that is lying, A2.” Laverne throws Simon onto the floor, and he feels an eruption of stabbing pain on his side. “It wants you to believe the dreams it gives you are reality, that it actually happened.” Darkness crept at the corners of Simon’s vision, and he pushes himself up from the floor, chest gasping for air that was knocked out of him.
“But in actual reality, it’s all lies. You can’t trust yourself, you can’t trust ANYONE. Everyone will betray you, like Kyo did, and only I can help.” Laverne kneels to his level, her eyes filled with an air of sadness and desperation, she outstretches her gloved hand, the glint of light from the hallways reflecting off of her tangerine-gold claw-rings.
Her voice was butter-smooth to Simon’s pointed ears, and whipped together with sugar aplenty, enchanting like a siren’s. “Only I understand, so please, let me reset the cycle so you can start anew, erase all those mistakes that crimson witch has done last cycle.” At that descriptor, Simon’s bleary, unfocused gaze sharply snaps to his current aggressor. “I’m doing this for your own good, don’t you see?”
“You won’t deceive me, stop trying to get me to give in.” Simon could feel his body disagreeing though, he gasped for breath as air was knocked out of him once more, body tumbling as Laverne knocked him towards the wall.
“How stubborn. No wonder no one truly cared about you. ”
The godlike deity flicks their hand again, the spear forming into a sharp-edged scythe. She gives it a spin and scoops up Simon’s chin with the blade, cutting into his flesh. “Honestly, I didn’t want to do this, but you forced my hand.”
Simon tries to hold onto any sliver of energy he had within his weakened vessel, but despite his best efforts, he found himself slipping, as if his limbs were coated in slippery soap.
“ You’re nothing, and you’re replaceable, the second your friends meet a better person? They’ll forget about you, like you have never existed. ”
“I-“ Simon tries to rebut, but Laverne cuts him off with malice dressing her tone.
“A2, your family left you because of your unwillingness to be a better person, your friends left because they don’t care about you, they never considered you to be anything of importance, a discarded toy, even. Has Tristan ever, ever said anything that wasn’t an insult towards you?” Laverne laughs, before she dips her head to stare at him directly in the eye.
“ So just give in and die. ”
Simon was silent, only seconds later, a chuckle rumbled out of his throat, mired with defeat.
“Hm? Have I convinced you?” Laverne’s question was met with complete silence of any discernible words.
“Seems like I have.” Laverne smiles in satisfaction, letting go of Simon as he slumps to the floor. She dusts her hands with a smug tone. “Now, let’s se-“
A spear nearly stabs the god in the head and lands square onto Laverne’s arm joint, piercing the bones within with a loud crackle, allowing the walls to be painted in an unceremonious black splatter. Laverne gasps in shock, before stumbling back, her gaze drifting from the spear that embedded itself in her joint, and to the newcomer the two were both familiar with.
The figure lets out a dark chuckle, fixing the tophat drifting upon his head and adjusting his glasses before he starts. “We meet again, old friend.”
“Tristan.” Laverne smiles (it’s fake, plastic, even.) “I’m kind of busy right now.”
Tristan hums with lax, his focus drifting between the two. “I can see that, but how about we talk for a sec?” A dangerous aura seeps into the air, as familiar footsteps approached Simon, who was motionless. “Here’s the deal, I don’t think trying to assault my rival is on the menu, shall I serve you something else? Also, don’t think those insults are suitable towards him, my guy. Salvation for all is more of my responsibility, y’know?”
“This interaction will put you in opposition with me, Tristan.” Laverne growls. “Do you truly wish to antagonize me? My dear Judge?”
“Not really.” Tristan recalls his spear back, ripping its crimson blade out of the wall and it landing back into his hands with a satisfying smack. “I do, however, have a few words with you.”
“I’ll allow you to speak, then.” Laverne glances at Simon laying slack on the floor. “However, make it prompt.”
“I shall,then.” Tristan walks towards Laverne, his every step heavier then the last, the clacks of his slacks against the marble floor commanding nothing but the rage that burns in his flame-red eyes. And he spoke, the icy tone searing at even Simon’s frayed consciousness.
“Go to hell.”
“How rude.” Laverne let out a ‘hmph’, returning to a narrowed enraged glare. “To think you were my friend.”
“I am your Judge for a reason, Lav.” Tristan taps his foot on the marble floor. “And boy, do I have a lot to settle with you.”
“Aren’t you pretty close to the Executioner, Tristan?” Laverne angles their head in an eldritch fashion. “Surely I can’t trust you on judging a god .”
Tristan raises an eyebrow as he approaches, an aura of annoyance painting his features. “And do I look like I care?”
Laverne was silent, Tristan smirks, and Simon sighs in a mixture of annoyance and relief.
He shrugs, a whimsical tone to his steely movements. “Whatever, I’m here to pick my rival up,” Tristan picks up Simon with a sashay, and gives Laverne a finger-gunning gesture, his grin dropping to a tight-lipped frown. “-and kick your ass.”
Simon was half liquid half solid at this point, melting all over where the other scoops him up in the crook of his arm, and Tristan visibly constrains the urge to joke about the rather pathetic state of his business friend.
“Consider our partnership over, Laverne.” Tristan points the blade of the polearm right at the god without even a slight shake in fear. “This time, I’ll take their side.”
“What makes you think you should?” Laverne snarls. “They’re just characters, they’re under us. WE have all the power and the right to change them however we please!”
“That doesn’t mean we should!” Tristan’s fist clenches painfully white. “It’s a story, not a torture chamber!”
“If it means I must do as such to create the perfect story, I shall!” Laverne roars, her face contorted into one of pure molten lava. “I don’t care about you, nor anyone in this sandbox playground.” She forces out a grin, baring all of her sharp teeth that glistened under the light. “All of you are but my puppets, ALL OF YOU!”
“You took everything away from me.” Simon’s eyes glowered even amidst his reforming shell. “I swear on my life, today I will bring you down from your throne.”
“ We. ” Simon’s eyes met Tristan’s. “We will.”
“So be it.” Laverne spins their scythe on their arm, smirking at the duo who settled with their weapons. “This’ll be easy.”
Tristan raises a finger. “One more thing.”
“What now?” Laverne growls.
Tristan clicks his tongue, and Simon stares at him with the confusion of a thousand senators. “I have something you don’t have.”
“What?” At that moment, Laverne sounded genuinely curious, her scythe lowered a little.
Tristan grabs onto Simon and kicks him in the shin, causing him to yelp behind him before Tristan quickly grabs him by the nape of his neck and slams him to the floor, destabilizing his form into a pile of slimy goop, before flinging it right at Laverne, who then tasked herself in fully avoiding the projectile, unfortunately not realizing Tristan took this brief time to slip behind her, his grip now secured around the hood of her cape.
“Intelligence.” Tristan casually picks up the short god, his grin wide and sure. “And height.”
“WHAT THE FU-“ With a sound of stress from Tristan, he picks up her body as if it were just a feather, and with a “Hup!”, throws her off of the side of the Hallways, over the railings and into the Void below.
“There.” Tristan flips a finger at the void, barely hearing the cries of anger of some oversized baby fading out from the laws of gravity before turning to the other. “You alright, Si?”
Simon looks up, still dazed and once again trying to reform his body. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.” He chokes out.
“I meant it when I said I’m smart as fuck.” Tristan sits down next to Simon on the cold floor.
“Also that throw hurt like a bitch.” Simon grunts. “I’m going to get back at you for that.”
Silence.
Tristan turns towards him, an odd expression of worry. “Si, don’t take their words to heart, okay? I’m sure Rae cares about you greatly, and I do too.”
“Now, that’s weird. You doing good?” Simon stares at Tristan. “Still, thank you. I also want to ask, why are you always so…sour towards me? I always just assumed that you just didn’t like me and all.”
“Oh, riiight…” Tristan looks off to the side, chuckling. “Uh, it’s a long story. Maybe next time?”
Simon narrows his eyes, a corner of his lips quirking up as he presses it into a fine line. “Fine. But only because I’m tired as shit and I feel like I’m about to collapse in all three aspects of general health.”
The other sighs. “No, it’s alright. No one likes having all their flaws pointed out in their face and shit on anyways.” Tristan turns to Simon, his hands outstretched a little. “Hug it out?”
With great reluctance and a brief moment of consideration, Simon sighs loud and long, giving his shoulders a good roll before grumbling. “Hug.”
The two hug, and honestly, Simon does feel comfort in this sudden gesture, even though he knows the cleanup later would send him over the moon and into the depths of hell, also, it’s his rival he’s hugging. He blinks for a minute.
Wait, why are they hugging?
“Pat pat.” Tristan mutters, as he reaches up to pat Simon on the back.
“Pat pat.” Simon returns the gesture with a gruelling awkwardness that made his body burn up in embarrassment. He laughs, finding even that strange to come from him. “What the fuck are we doing.”
“Honestly I’ve forgotten already.” Tristan shrugs in midst of their uncomfortable embrace. “Whatever, I’ll go get us home, when you’re ready.”
Their gazes meet, and Simon can’t help but avert his. He hesitates, before he mumbles. “By the way, I…” He swallows the spit in the back of his mouth. “I’m sorry. For all of what I said back then.”
Tristan seems to freeze at that for a brief second, before his shoulders relax. “It’s…fine. Let’s just go home, yeah?”
“...For once, yeah.” Simon smiles, ever so slightly. “Yeah, let’s go.”
The sound of a door closing ever-so slightly echoes in the dead of the night. Tristan sneaks out into the living room, where Simon, dreadfully tired, slept curled into the couch pillows, he smiles at Bory, who out of concern for her “uncle”, decides to have a pseudo-slumber party in the living room, forcing poor Mnemosyne along . He then tears his gaze from the pile atop the sofa and looks towards the table, realizing Rae’s mug standing at the near-edge of the table, the moonlight reflecting off the dark-blue ceramic. Tristan scoops the mug up and looks into the depths of it, realizing the final few sips of un-drunk coffee had gone cold inside. He lets out a deep breath, before walking to put it into the sink.
“Rae’s gone.”
Tristan nearly drops Simon.“…What?”
“She’s just, gone.” Simon wrung his hands. “I…don’t know what to do.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“IT'S NOT OKAY! WHAT THE HELL?! SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND, YOU IMBECILE, WH-“
Tristan swallows back more unspoken thoughts before he reaches to turn on the kitchen tap.
As he rinses Rae’s mug, he reaches for his, and pours himself some water. Giving it a few sips, he approaches the sliding doors to the balcony, overlooking the deadly, silent night that was City 3’s signature deterrent for nightlifers, he turns to walk away to retire to his comfortable (and oh so lonely) covers , but gives the tempting ,promisingly empty space a look.
“…Maybe some fresh air will do.” Tristan mumbles to himself and adjusts his glasses, gently sliding open the door to look outside.
Tristan looks out into the streets. He puffs out a mouthful of air, watching as the stars dimly shone distances far away.
He sighs, before digging his nails into the railing of the balcony and slumping into his arms, crossed together on top of the railing.
“…I should’ve gone after Laverne. What was I thinking?” He groans. “The void…that can’t stop Laverne. She’ll only be delayed until .EXE dies at her own hand, and when that time comes, Simon will fucking kill me.” He adjusts his position to stare off lazily towards the side. “Not only that, Euterpe would be so disappointed. What would he think?”
“Oh, oh Euterpe…”
Tears unknowingly found their way to slide out the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks, dripping down into the dark alleys below. Tristan sniffles, quickly bringing up the sleeve of his shirt to dry them off, but they just kept coming, pouring like a rainstorm, he soon coughs up a wave of tears and sobs, his body betraying him and portraying the deep ache inside the deepest corners of his soul.
He looks up to the sky, towards the direction of the cold, winter wind, letting his now-lengthened hair blow messily in his face wet of tears, his glasses foggy from the moisture.
“Tell me.” He whispers to the wind. “Tell me, when you lose your partner and your best friend, when you fail time and time again to take down the one who keeps taking away everything from you, when you fail your responsibility to be the one who will bring freedom to everyone, what would you do, Creator?” He calls out to the skies, and hopes for any respite, anything.
The stars gave no answer.