Chapter Text
Saying goodbye to the shopkeeper, Sarah made her way back to the spot she left her two boys, a smile digging into her cheeks. She had finished striking a bargain deal for her favorite tea, and better yet, it had been against another, older and supposedly experienced woman. Johnny's silver-tongued degree in haggling rubbed off on her, and he was going to puff up with pride when she told him of her winnings.
She had left her husband with Jim away from the marketplace's hustling-and-bustling network of streets. There was a pretty mural of a flower constructed entirely out of cogs, springs, and wheels, a metal masterpiece created by one of Montressor's famed artists. Jim loved marveling at it, his toddler eyes full of fascination. He had a growing interest in mechanics, always flipping over toy vehicles to spin the wheels, dismantling a device with the skill no four-year-old had. Sarah suspected he was learning from Johnny just as she learned to haggle; her husband had a hobby of being a tinker and he was definitely feeding the boy's precocious genius-- though Sarah preferred her expensive appliances staying in one piece.
Reaching the locality built into the concave side of a grand building, she scanned the rows of benches. A vacant stage was set up beneath the mural, used for outdoor events. The young woman moved around, not seeing her husband or son where she left them. The bench closest to the teashop sat unoccupied, as did the others. Sarah's heart sped up, and she did a full turn in place, head jerking around frantically. "Where.." she wondered.
One familiar face caught her eye as he rounded a corner of the pavilion in a swift jog. They locked eyes and Johnny suddenly, mysteriously froze. Sarah rose a brow as he calmly strolled towards her, his demeanor obviously a facade. He flashed a grin too crooked for his face and not-very-subtly wiped beads of sweat from his brow.
Sarah's throbbing heart fell to the floor. The invisible maternal strings tying her to Jim, who was nowhere to be seen, felt stretched and wrong. "Where is he?" she demanded the moment her husband stood in front of her.
"No need ta fret, love, he's not far," Johnny said, holding out his hands placatingly. "Jimbo had ta take a leak, so we went somewhere, eh, private--"
"John." Sarah took one step forward, and her husband took one whole step back. Though being a head and a half shorter than the Ursid, Sarah was terrifying when she got mad. She hardly ever had reason to be, but it looked like this would be one of those rare instances.
"Where is Jim?" she repeated, a ring of frosty blue fire burning in her irises.
The game was up. Johnny's explanation was delivered in a yammering rush his wife hardly comprehended, but one thing mollified her; he was riddled head to toe with shame and self-loathing. What little she could make out of his story was that he'd only turned his back for a minute, and then the lad had just poofed out of existence.
"Okay, okay. Where did you last see him?"
They hurried to the last scene of Jim's vanishing act. Apparently, behind the building was an appropriate place to take a leak. Focused on clearing his innocence rather than the task at hand, Johnny became an apologetic mess as they combed the area for hide or hair of their son.
"Sarah, angel, I hadn't meant ta lose th'boy, I swear 'pon every damned constellation there is. "
"It's okay, John, it's fine." She distractedly calmed him, circling the deserted back lot and calling out for her son. She wasn't in the right mind to hear her husband out. She'd listen better once her baby was safe in her arms, understanding this was all just a silly mistake they could laugh about later. If she would have known a minute of peace would rapidly turn this sour, this real, she would have kept both her boys at the inn.
"Come on, we have to report this to a constable or something, maybe they could help..." Sarah tugged on her husband's prosthetic arm, then paused, getting a good look at it and his cyborg eye that was flickering around worriedly. "Wait-- can't you use those?"
"Eh?" His gaze landed on her, narrowing. Johnny was struggling to keep up with all the heavy regret he was carrying. "What're ya talkin' about, woman?"
"Your parts, John." Sarah motioning wildly around her face. "Don't you have like-- lazer-eye-doohickey-powers?"
"Lazer-eye-doohick--?" His confusion snapped in half and he finally caught up. He whirled back towards the brick wall, mechanical optic clicking and calibrating. Sarah slowly sidled beside John, hoping he would start acting as smart as she knew he could be.
His arm abruptly shot out, gesturing away from the building. Into the packed and clamoring streets. "Fresh prints," he indicated. "Come on, he can't get far on them wee urchin legs."
Sarah breathed out and hitched up her skirt. Oh Jim, please don't do anything I wouldn't do.
The world could be described in several words to the toddler. Loud. Big. Smelly. Unfamiliar was one of them, though he wasn't aware there was a word for the feeling yet. Young Jim scampered around with great zeal. He liked everything about this big, loud, smelly, unfamiliar terrain. It was a welcome change to the inn's sheltering walls and his parent's restricting arms. He felt like a mighty Candarian zap-wing, flapping his flaming wings and soaring to different destinations.
No one gave more than a passing glance to the human boy. He was about as small and unbothersome as a fly. One or two questioned to themselves where his parents might be, but in such swarms of bodies, anyone could have been, really. So was left alone to Jim trudge on without boundaries and smiled up at the faces, those who smiled back and those who leaned over their stalls to shoo him away from a bowl of fried goodies.
One kind cephalopodian selling free samples offered him a slippery morsel. Jim gobbled it up, finding it quite tasty, and waved a tiny hand. "Tank you!"
What was this strange magical place that gave him free food and endless routes to traverse? He didn't know, but it was certainly entertaining. Maybe even better than home...
Jim found his path to be blocked by several figures circling a particularly lengthy attraction. From how many there were, voices scrambled into droning gibberish. What was going on? The toddler squeezed past shoes, webbed feet, paws, and claws, trying to sneak a peek at what all the hubbub was about. Perhaps another source of free snacks...?
Jim huffed when he couldn't get past a pair of steel-toed boots. The man he'd bumped into wore a trench coat and was made up of black slime. He growled at the wandering child, and Jim would have been undeterred if it hadn't been for the second head that split from the stranger's first, flaring a set of fearsome mandibles.
Jim yipped like a scolded puppy and fled through another forest of legs. A fast-talking voice rose above the others as he reached the end of the crowd. What stood in his way now was a spacious, blanket-covered table, seemingly miles high. He wasn't able to make out the various objects in great detail, but he did hear the unmistakable sounds of living creatures.
"Do I hear fifty, fifty, fifty?" the voice chanted with what seemed like mesmerizing speed to the boy. "Fifty credits? Fifty credits anyone? Fifty-two? I got fifty-two credits on the morph from Proteus II!"
Jim had to get a better view. The throng was pressed up against the tables anyways, so no one would bat an eye if he found a higher spot. He spotted a few crates and a plank set on top behind the table. A front-row seat all for him. Perfect. He sneaked over, clambering on top of the plank. Jim had to sit on his knees to catch a glimpse over the table. Straining, he did his best to finally have a gander at what the crowd was gawking and gasping about.
Behind the iron bars of a cage, a pair of bulging, curious eyes met his. He blinked. It blinked back.
"Hi," Jim whispered. "You're weird."
"You're weird!" the pink creature parroted, transforming into a reflection of the child-- a miniature one. The animal had changed right before Jim into a tiny clone of him! The boy gasped in awe. "Wow! You're kinda cool!" he giggled.
The creature chirped, seemingly happy that he enjoyed the performance. He clung to the spaces in the bars, suddenly recoiling as they sparked dangerously.
Jim shrunk back, frightened by the dancing sparks. But then he heard the creature crying. The pink blob curled in on itself at the bottom of the cage, his little mewls wrenching Jim's heart. Why was he locked up? He didn't seem dangerous. The way he'd been flitting around made the boy reckon he was used to flying free. He may have not known much, but something stirred in Jim's conscience. Thinking what it would be like, actually seeing that clone of himself captured in a cold, cruel cage...
This was not fair.
Jim spied the auctioneer at the foot of the table. They were crowing and calling up a racket, concentrated on the crowd and the numbers they bounced between."Now for the morph from Proteus I! Can I get a forty, who'll give me a forty? Fifty credits says this man in fine leather boots, thank you very much. Fifty-two, can I get a fifty-two? Fifty going once! Fifty going twice! Sold to the man in leather steel-toed boots!"
Tipping his fedora, the slime humanoid maneuvered around the table. However, the cage with his prize was gone. What in the--
Gasps rippled through the throng as well as merry shrieks. The auctioneer shouted, "Hey! Kid! Come back here!"
But the boy was intent on getting away, cage tucked under his arm like it was a game of football. People dove for him or moved out of the way as he sped past, on his tail the snarling bidder. "Get back here with that you little squit!"
"Little squit!" Jim's new friend mocked, blowing a loud raspberry.
Jim pumped his feet as fast as he could. The streets were a maze, but a very useful one. He ducked and zigzagged through the narrowest of between-spaces, every obstacle used to his advantage. At the sight of two men moving a large pane of tempered glass, Jim took one risky glance over a shoulder.
The man was vehement about getting his prize back, but today was not going to be his lucky day.
Holding tight to the critter's cage, Jim waited until he drew so close to the pane he saw his anxious expression. Like a boy-sized cannonball, he shot underneath, dashing back onto his toes without a moment to spare.
Another glance. The men transferring the pane yelled a warning too late as the slimy bidder stumbled and splattered unceremoniously onto the window. Bullseye!
Triumph was all Jim's. He laughed and disappeared around a street corner, cherishing the spoils fit for a rebel.