Chapter Text
Smith doubled over, coughing violently as the force of the explosion finally caught up to him. Through the haze, he could've sworn one of the tanks had been launched clean into the air, only to slam into the building beside him with a deafening crash.
The tank had been only a few feet in front of him when it exploded, and the violent gust of wind from its sheer mass being hurled through the air had nearly knocked him off his feet. The thought of what would've happened had he been standing directly in front of it sent a chill down his spine.
He quickly forced himself back up despite the lingering dizziness. It didn't matter that he could feel a warm trickle of liquid running down the side of his head. He needed to get to Mitsi.
Shakily pushing himself upright, Smith steadied himself before beginning to trudge forward. As the thick smoke slowly cleared, the devastation around him gradually came into view.
His gaze landed on a massive pile of rubble blocking the path ahead. Smith immediately scanned the wreckage, frantically searching for any sign of his boss.
Then, a faint movement caught his eye.
His head snapped toward it.
Beneath the collapsed debris, Mitsi struggled desperately, both of her legs pinned under chunks of concrete and twisted metal. She braced her hands against the rubble, straining to pull herself free, but the weight refused to budge.
A distant explosion echoed across the field, followed by the unmistakable streak of a blazing fireball crashing into the ground. Smith's head snapped toward the source just as another fiery projectile rained down, landing even closer than the last. His eyes widened in horror as the fireballs tore through the sky, each accompanied by another deafening explosion, it continued to advance with terrifying speed, their deafening roar racing straight toward Mitsi.
"Mitsi—!"
Smith lurched forward, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he broke into a frantic sprint. Every step threatened to send him crashing to the ground, his balance is still shaken from the earlier explosion. A sharp ringing drowned out everything in his ears, and his vision swam for a moment, but he forced himself onward.
He couldn't care less about the blood running down the side of his head. He couldn't care less about his own injuries. He couldn't even care if he died.
All that mattered was making sure she was safe.
Smith poured every ounce of strength he could muster into his legs, forcing himself to run faster. Through the ringing in his ears, he could make out Mitsi's desperate cries, each one urging him onward.
His stomach dropped as the fireballs landed closer and closer. Mitsi looked back, her eyes widening in horror before she desperately clawed at the ground, trying to drag herself away. Her trapped legs refused to budge, the rubble held her firmly in place.
"No-!"
Smith pushed himself even harder, ignoring the protests of his battered body as he desperately tried to reach her before it was too late.
Then, all at once, the area around Mitsi began to grow brighter. Hotter.
The light intensified with terrifying speed, bathing everything around her in an unforgiving blaze. Realizing there was no escaping it, Mitsi abandoned her struggle. She looked up at the blazing fireball hurtling straight toward her and instinctively raised an arm to shield her eyes.
He's not going to make it.
He's not going to make it—
A violent shockwave slammed into Smith, sending him skidding several feet backward. He dug his heels into the ground, fighting to keep himself from tumbling as the force threatened to throw him off balance. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the thick cloud of smoke.
Then, all of a sudden, a silhouette came hurtling out of the haze.
It hit the ground with a sickening crash just a few feet in front of him.
Smith froze for only a split second. Something had just crashed a few feet in front of him, but the thick haze of smoke concealed whatever it was. He couldn't make out so much as its shape.
He couldn't afford to waste another second feeding his curiosity. He needed to make sure she's okay.
Ignoring it, Smith bolted toward where he'd last seen Mitsi, waving frantically through the dense smoke as he searched blindly.
"Mitsi?" he called.
No response.
He pushed farther through the haze, coughing harshly before shouting again.
"Mitsi!"
The smoke slowly began to thin and a large pile of rubble came into view—
And there she was.
Still trapped beneath the debris, but otherwise unscathed.
Her hands were clasped over her head, fingers tangled in her hair as if shielding herself from another impact. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, he can see her entire body visibly trembling.
Oh, thank Creators.
Smith rushed to her side and dropped to his knees beside her, carefully placing a hand on her head.
Mitsi let out a startled gasp. She immediately swatted his hand away and threw both arms over her face in defense.
"Ma'am, it's—it's okay. It's me. You're safe" Smith whispered, his voice wavering, threatening to break into a sob. Sue him for breaking into formal habits! Mitsi will surely scold him for this later but he doesn't care, as long as she's safe.
Unable to hear him, Mitsi didn't respond. Smith gently reached for her wrists, carefully prying her arms away from her face.
She flinched but didn't resist.
Squinting, she blinked several times as her vision slowly adjusted through the lingering haze. At first, all she could make out was his silhouette looming over her before his features gradually came into focus.
"S-Smith? Is that you?" she stammered. "I can't hear anything. My—my hearing! It's all—"
She broke off with a shaky hiccup.
"I don't hear a thing!"
The words barely left her mouth before a quiet sob escaped her, her shoulders trembling as the shock finally caught up to her. Tears welled in her eyes before spilling freely down her cheeks.
Smith instinctively shushed her, both hands gently but firmly settling on her shoulders to ground her.
Almost immediately, Mitsi's trembling hands shot up and clutched desperately at the tattered sleeves of his uniform, gripping the worn fabric so tightly her knuckles turned white, as though she was terrified he'd disappear the moment she let go.
"It's okay... it's okay..."
His voice shook despite his best efforts to keep it steady. He hoped that she could at least understand him by reading his lips. But the vacant, panicked look in her eyes told him she was still too disoriented to process much of anything. The explosion had gone off far too close. It had to have temporarily robbed her of her hearing.
He quickly looked her over, searching for any injuries he'd missed. Aside from the blood, dust, and countless scrapes coating her, she appeared miraculously intact. Relief washed over him for only a moment before another wave of concern settled in as he looked at the state of her legs.
Would she still be able to?-
Mitsi's breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps, and her entire body continued to tremble beneath his hands.
He'd never seen Mitsi like this before.
Then something tugged at the edge of his vision.
Smith slowly turned his head toward the silhouette that had crashed nearby moments ago. Now that the smoke had begun to clear, he could finally make out its shape. It was a stickfigure, lying curled tightly on the ground in an almost fetal position. Thick gray smoke continuously billowed from its back, obscuring whatever injuries lay beneath, though the acrid smell and scorched air left little doubt that the burns were extensive.
His gaze lingered for only another second before he noticed something that made his blood run cold.
The figure's head. It was hollow.
Smith's eyes widened in horror.
He's one of the terrorists.
They needed to get out of here.
The good news is it looks like he isn't getting up any time soon. But they can't afford to waste any more time.
Smith tore his gaze away from the fallen figure and turned back to Mitsi. She seemed to have finally pushed through the worst of her shock, though fear still lingered plainly on her face.
Swallowing the panic rising in his own throat, he forced himself to speak as calmly as he could.
"Mitsi... I—I need you to let go of me now. We d-don't have much time. We need to get you out. Now."
Mitsi swallowed hard before giving a small, shaky nod. Her fingers slowly loosened their desperate grip on his tattered sleeves, reluctantly letting him go.
Smith immediately rose to his feet and hurried to the edge of the slab pinning her legs. Planting both hands against the rough concrete, he drew in a sharp breath before heaving with everything he had.
Every strained muscle screamed in protest. The gash along the side of his head throbbed violently, and his arms trembled from the effort, threatening to give out beneath the weight. Even so, he grit his teeth and pushed harder, refusing to let up.
The slab shifted.
"Mitsi, try and ge-get out!"
Mitsi braced both palms against the ground and desperately dragged herself backward, using every ounce of strength left in her while Smith continued to hold the rubble up.
Smith silently cursed under his breath.
They were barely making any progress.
The slab was simply too heavy. Every second that passed drained what little strength he had left, his arms trembling more violently as the weight threatened to crush them back down.
At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before the other one-
"YOU IDIOT!"
The voice rang out from somewhere in the distance.
The blood drained from Smith's face, replaced by cold cold dread.
Fuck... FUCK.
The other one was coming.
His grip tightened around the slab as he desperately heaved with everything he had. The rubble rose only a few more inches before refusing to budge any farther. His battered arms quivered violently under the strain, and his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, nearly falling off.
Smith swallowed hard, forcing down the panic threatening to overtake him.
The other terrorist couldn't find them.
Not now.
Not when they were only a few feet away from his ally.
Dark clumsily landed beside his partner, the flames on his palms sputtering erratically as he nearly tripped over his own footing. He caught himself at the last second, stumbling to a stop before immediately clutching at his hair with both hands, fingers threading through it in mounting panic.
"Oh—you! Creators, where were you even—"
The words died in his throat. Dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, Dark finally looked Chosen over.
Chosen lay completely motionless.
Thin wisps of smoke curled from his body, the remains of Dark's own fireball still clinging to him. A nasty jagged hole had been burned clean through the back of his jacket, exposing an ugly, charred burn beneath. Dark watched as the wound slowly began to knit itself back together very slowly, the scorched flesh healing at its usual pace, but it was obvious the damage had been severe.
Apparently, the impact had been enough to knock him unconscious.
"...Insolent fool."
Dark clicked his tongue, equal parts irritated and relieved.
"What am I to do with you?"
Dark crouched, slipping an arm beneath Chosen's shoulders, ready to haul the unconscious idiot back onto his feet.
—A strained grunt reached his ears.
His hand froze.
It came again, accompanied by the scrape of shifting concrete.
Slowly, Dark turned toward the sound.
Through the thinning veil of smoke, he spotted a tall stick figure braced against a massive slab of rubble, his entire body shaking violently from the effort of holding it up. Fresh blood streaked down the side of the figure's head, his clothes were torn and coated in dust, and even from this distance, Dark could see his arms quivering beneath the impossible weight.
Only then did his gaze drift lower.
A woman was trapped beneath the collapsed debris, both legs hopelessly pinned. She planted her palms against the cracked pavement and desperately dragged herself forward, her fingers clawing at the ground in a frantic attempt to escape while the stick figure fought to keep the slab from crushing her again.
Dark remained perfectly still, silently watching the desperate struggle unfold before him.
Without tearing his eyes away from the pair, he slowly lowered Chosen back onto the ground before straightening to his full height. His posture was unnervingly still, not a single unnecessary movement betraying what ran through his mind. The only sound was the quiet crackle of the flames dancing along his body.
He simply watched.
Watched the tall stick figure strain against the slab, watched the woman beneath the rubble desperately drag herself forward, inch by agonizing inch. Every frantic movement, every panicked breath, they all unfolded beneath his unwavering gaze.
Something about seeing it all so upclose, sends him an unusual burst of glee he couldn't explain. But his stoic exterior couldn't express all of the wonderful emotions he's feeling from beneath.
It was just...just—
Then, as if sensing he was being watched. The stick figure glanced over his shoulder.
Their eyes met.
For a single, suffocating heartbeat, everything else ceased to exist.
Even from where he stood, Dark could see the tremble in the other's eyes from a mile away. His glasses barely concealing the fear, plain enough for him to see.
Then, with nothing more than a lazy flick of his wrist, a small ember sprang to life above Dark's fingertips.
It twirled idly between his fingers, dancing in slow, effortless circles as though it were nothing more than a harmless trick. He made no attempt to hide it.
The other stick's eyes followed the tiny ball of fire as it lazily spun between his fingers.
Whatever color remained in his face drained away. Panic surged through every frantic movement as he tore his gaze from Dark and threw himself back against the slab, gritting his teeth as he desperately tried to lift it higher.
The rubble barely budged.
The desperation in his movements, drew a slow smile across Dark's face.
How delightfully predictable.
The tiny sphere continued to swell in his palm, feeding upon itself until it grew, slowly doubling in size. Heat rippled through the air as it expanded, bathing him and the area in a deep orange glow. Distorting the air around it with shimmering waves of heat.
Dark leisurely raised his arm—
A gunshot cracked through the air.
Dark's instincts took over in an instant. His head snapped sharply to the side just before the bullet reached him. The bullet missed his eye by mere inches, carving a shallow line across his cheek instead.
A thin line of crimson split open across his face.
For the first time, Dark's composure faltered.
The fireball on his hand flickered violently. Then, as his concentration broke, it sputtered out altogether, dissolving into harmless sparks that scattered into the smoky air.
Dark slowly craned his neck toward the direction the shot had come from.
Perched within the rubble, partially concealed behind the remains of a collapsed wall, a sniper stared back at him through the scope of their rifle.
"OPEN FIRE!"
Gunfire erupted all at once.
A barrage of bullets tore through the smoke toward Dark's position. He reacted almost instantly, weaving between the incoming rounds with unnerving precision. Each bullet missed by mere inches as he shifted, ducked, and twisted with impossible speed, the projectiles kicking up dust and fragments of concrete in his wake.
Apparently, the soldiers who had taken cover during their earlier bombardment had finally recovered and emerged from their hiding places.
Dark slipped past another bullet, the round whistling past his ear.
He tilted ever so slightly, letting another bullet whistle harmlessly by before taking a single step to the side, narrowly avoiding the next volley that tore through the space he'd occupied moments earlier.
His eyes swept across the area with unnerving calm, tracking each muzzle flash that briefly pierced the smoke. One... two... three... another to the left. A sniper hidden behind the collapsed wall. Two riflemen crouched behind the overturned transport. One more taking cover behind a fractured concrete pillar.
By now, he'd already mapped them out.
Without so much as pausing, Dark raised a hand.
A fireball flared to life in his palm and he-
Bang.
One
Bang.
Two and three—
Bang.
Four
The gunfire had ceased.
Dark didn't spare the burning area around him another glance. The moment the last of them fell quiet, he pivoted on his heel and hurried back to his partner without hesitation.
"We're leaving" he muttered under his breath.
Dropping to one knee, he carefully slipped an arm beneath Chosen's shoulders and another beneath his knees, scooping the unconscious stick figure into his arms with ease. Chosen remained completely limp against him, his head lolling against Dark's shoulder as faint wisps of smoke continued to curl from the charred hole burned through the back of his jacket.
Dark tightened his hold just enough to keep him secure.
Without another word, flames roared to life around his feet.
A powerful burst of fire propelled him skyward, lifting the pair off the ruined grounds in an instant.
As the two terrorists disappeared into the distance, the three soldiers who had been forced into hiding finally rushed from their cover.
They found Smith crouched over Mitsi, his body curled protectively around hers, shielding her from the barrage of gunfire that had rained over them moments earlier.
"Are you two alright?" one of the soldiers asked, dropping to a knee beside them.
For a moment, Smith didn't answer.
He slowly lifted his head, his breathing ragged as the realization finally sank in that they were safe.
He gave a small, exhausted nod.
"Help me get her out... please."
The soldiers immediately sprang into action. Two hurried to Smith's side, bracing themselves against the massive slab as they heaved it upward together. With their combined strength, the rubble finally lifted enough for the third soldier to reach beneath it. Grasping Mitsi gently by the shoulders, he carefully pulled her free from the debris.
"There's an open portal nearby. You two will be safe" one of the soldiers assured them.
Before Smith could lose his balance, another soldier quickly stepped in, catching him and wrapping an arm securely around his waist to steady him. The height difference made it awkward to properly steady him, forcing Smith to lean down slightly so the soldier could bear more of his weight.
Beside them, the third soldier carefully slid one arm beneath Mitsi's knees and the other behind her back before lifting her into a secure cradle. He took extra care to keep her injured legs as still as possible.
Without another second to waste, all of them hurried toward the waiting portal as they disappeared through its shimmering surface.
Gone.
They were all gone.
Not a single clue remained as to where any of them had disappeared to.
Every answer they had uncovered pointed in the same direction: every animation that had vanished from Rocket Corp had originated from Newgrounds.
But beyond that...
Nothing.
There was still no explanation for the green spark that came just as they disappeared. No indication of what it was, where it had come from, or why it had appeared in the first place. Victim knows what the green meant, but he couldn't understand the cause.
Why them?
Why did they disappear and he was still here?
Had something happened to Newgrounds?
...Were Mitsi and Smith there?
"Play it back."
At his command, the footage before him rewound, stopping exactly two minutes before one of his employees had vanished.
Hours earlier, he had scanned his own memories into the memory scanner, replaying them over and over while meticulously combing through every frame for anything they might have overlooked. Beside him, Emerald had remained equally absorbed in the investigation, the two of them cooped up in the room for hours, comparing notes and scrutinizing every insignificant detail in the desperate hope that something—anything that would make sense of their disappearances.
One of the things they've noticed was some of the stuff they've left behind. Mitsi's party hat. Smith's security guard hat and his toolbar. What wasn't on their original animation wasn't brought with them
This was all he could do.
A frustrated groan rumbled in the back of his throat.
They'd hit another dead end.
Every lead they'd chased had circled back to the same infuriating conclusion, yet none of it brought them any closer to understanding what had actually happened.
If only he hadn't looked away.
If only he hadn't let go of her...
Victim squeezed his eyes shut and dragged a hand slowly down his face, the gesture lingering as he let out a long, strained exhale through clenched teeth. The weight of helplessness settled heavily in his chest.
Nothing would've changed.
He knew it.
A gentle nudge against his leg pulled him from his thoughts.
Victim glanced down to find the sheep looking up at him with quiet, patient eyes. The sheep brushed against his leg once more, letting out a soft, familiar baa.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Victim's lips.
He bent down and gently stroked the top of sheep's head.
"Hey, Bo. How are you holding up?"
Bo answered with another quiet baa, leaning into his hand before giving it a light, affectionate bump with the top of his head.
Victim let out a quiet huff of amusement.
"Oh? You're asking me?" He gave Bo another absent-minded scratch behind the ears. "I'm alright."
Bo slowly folded his legs beneath itself and settled onto the floor beside him, pressing close enough that its wool brushed against Victim's side.
Victim rested his hand on the sheep's back, absentmindedly running his fingers through the soft wool as he let out a tired sigh.
"...They'll be back."
Whether he was reassuring Bo or trying to convince himself...
He wasn't entirely sure.
"Boss!"
Emerald called out from across the room.
Both Victim and Bo perked up at the sound of Emerald's voice.
Victim instinctively looked toward him, only to realize Emerald wasn't looking back. His eyes were fixed somewhere beyond him, his expression suddenly stricken with alarm. Following his line of sight, Victim slowly turned toward the doorway.
His breath caught in his throat.
Smith stood there, leaning heavily against the doorframe as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.
His appearance alone was enough to make Victim's stomach drop.
His shades were cracked, sitting crookedly across his face. A raw burn stretched across one of his cheeks, while the sleeves of his once-neat polo hung in tattered strips, exposing angry burns scattered along his arms. Dust, soot, and dried blood clung to him from head to toe.
"Smith—"
Victim and Bo rushed to him at once.
Reaching him, Victim immediately grabbed him by both arms, frantically scanning him from head to toe for other injuries.
"Cursors... are you okay?! What on the Outernet happened? Where did you go—"
His eyes instinctively flicked past Smith, expecting to see another familiar figure step through the doorway behind him.
No one did.
His gaze swept the hallway once. Then again.
Empty.
A knot tightened painfully in his chest.
Where...
Where was...
"Where's Mitsi?"
His expression paled. When Smith didn't answer immediately, his anxiety only grew more.
"Where's Mitsi?"
Panic seized him as both hands shot to Smith's shoulders, gripping them tightly enough to jostle him.
"Where is she?!"
Smith quietly shrugged Victim's hands off him before placing a firm hand on his boss's shoulder to steady him. His already crooked shades slipped even farther askew.
"She's at the clinic."
Smith drew a slow, unsteady breath, his chest rising unevenly as he fought to stay on his feet.
"We need to call an ambulance. Now."