Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pauling,” the Administrator asked as she blew out a puff of smoke. “Are you paying attention?”

Pauling snapped her head up, fumbling the pages of her magazine further into her book. “Yes, of course I'm attention. I’m—gah!”

She was cut off as the Administrator snatched both magazine and book out of her hands. Her razor-sharp nails seemed like knives slashing toward Pauling. 

“Guns Blazing: Issue 6,” the Administrator read in her withering scornful drawl. “Really, Miss Pauling? I’m disappointed.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry.” Pauling adjusted her glasses, looking away to hide from the administrator’s burning gaze. “It’s just that I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Any of this. Why do I have to study gravel, and if all we’re doing is reading from textbooks then why do we have to be in the gravel pits?” Pauling threw up her hands, gesturing at the dusty mounds around them. 

“Oh,” the Administrator sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with bony fingers. “And here I thought you were brighter than that.”

“I am! I mean, I want to be. I swear I’m good at this. That’s why I’m your assistant, right? I can make a bomb out of an analog alarm clock and a splinter for crying out loud!”

The Administrator only rolled her eyes and took another drag of her cigarette. “Yes, yes, you’re very destructive. If you want to be competent, however, you need to understand more than senseless violence.”

“I do!” Pauling insisted, being uncharacteristically confrontational with her boss. “I do paperwork! I make painstakingly meticulous plans and coverups! I just…” She trailed off, cowing to the challenging look in the Administrator’s eyes.

“Just what, Miss Pauling?”

“I don’t like those parts,” she confessed. "They get very boring."

“I see.” The Administrator closed her eyes, pensive. “You like the ‘fun’ parts of your job. You believe that these precautions are unnecessary to your work.” 

“Well, it’s not exactly that I think it’s unnecessary, but spending all day learning about different types of gravel does seem a bit excessive. Maybe just a smidge.” 

“What would you like your training, or your work for that matter, to consist of?”

“Huh?”

“Go on, describe your ideal world to me, and be honest.” She punctuated the word honest with a sharp look that wiped any idea of sugarcoating or sucking up from Pauling’s mind.

“I, uh, okay. I guess my world would be something more sparky. There wouldn’t be the need for busy work. I could fight and destroy all I wanted and never have to worry about cleaning up the mess. There’d be no responsibilities! No real consequences, even! It would be thrilling instead of stressful and blah, you know?” She squeaked the last line, beaming. Thinking about such a wonderful world had her face flushed in excitement.

The Administrator remained cold and unmoved throughout the monologue. When it was done, she only shook her head. “God, you’re naive, but I suppose that can’t be helped. It’s not your fault you’ve got measly twenty-something years under your belt.” She took another painfully long drag of her cigarette. 

Pauling quietly cleared her throat. She tried desperately to stop herself from digging her nails into her legs. She took a subtle deep breath and untensed herself, looking outward to the gray fields around her. 

There was a very tall rabbit parkouring across the distant structures. 

“Miss Pauling,” the Administrator snapped. 

“Ah! Yes?” 

“Did you hear me?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Pauling struggled to split her gaze between the rabbit and the Administrator’s stern face. “Uh, there’s a—”

“I said: perhaps we should take a break.”

“A what?” The absurdity of the statement was enough to pull Pauling’s full attention back to her boss. She never got breaks.

“A break. You’re useless to me if you can’t focus enough to retain the information I’m telling you. Take a rest, get medicated, I don’t care. ” She disdainfully tapped some ash off her cigarette. “Just come back ready to do your job properly, including the training. Understood?”

“Y-yes ma’am!” Pauling stammered, already standing with her eyes once again locked on the rabbit. She was so caught up in the strange sight that she couldn’t even feel afraid of the Administrator’s request. 

The rabbit was closer now, heading towards them, but didn’t appear to have noticed them at all. 

Pauling took off, hopping on her motorcycle and speeding away before she had her helmet on right. She calculated his path, figuring if she went west and a bit to the south she could get ahead and cut him off. Targets running into her was always a better plan than her having to chase them down. 

She pulled up between two outposts and waited with her back to the wall. There was a large stretch between these two buildings; the rabbit would have to land on the ground to get across. Sure enough, after only a minute or so of waiting, she heard him coming. At first, it was the thumping that tipped her off, the light clang and bang that sounded as he jumped from place to place, but then she heard it talking. 

“Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP.” The panicked hissing quickly grew louder as he came closer. 

Just as she’d planned, he bounced over her head and landed on the ground between the two buildings. As he was about to jump onto the second one and continue his sprint, Pauling launched forward, tackling him onto his stomach. 

Up close, the possible hallucination made even less sense.

He was, in fact, actually a rabbit, but he also looked uncannily human. He had dappled white-gray fur and long, twitchy ears. There was even a cotton tail. Despite his animalistic appearance, he was fully dressed in a sleeveless grey shirt, shorts, and what looked to be an earpiece. He also had a baseball cap and bat, both of which had been flung away from the impact.

The weirdest thing about him, though, was that he didn’t look creepy. He looked like a cute anthropized cartoon character. But in real life. But somehow not disturbing. 

“HEY!” The rabbit growled, squirming under her hold. “I’ll cave your skull in you little—” He stopped when he met her eye, swapping his scowl for a flirty grin. “Hey. How you doing? Listen, normally I’d be all over this but I’m kinda in a rush right now. What say you we pick this up sometime later?”

Pauling ignored his offer. “What are you?” She pulled open his gums, examining his mix of leporid and human teeth with fascination. 

He pulled back and grinned again. “Oh boy, where do I even start with that question? You got no idea. You got no idea who I am. Most people call me Scout and, basically, I’m kind of—LATE!” With a hand (Paw?) on his earpiece, he abruptly shot up, knocking Pauling over. 

“Oh no. Oooh boy, this is bad,” he murmured to himself as he frantically raced around, picking up his items. “He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna pop my tiny head off! AHH!”

“Wait! Who’s going to kill you?” Pauling shouted in vain as Scout raced onward, freaking out the whole way. 

Curiosity now burning her insides, she jumped back on her bike and took off after him again. It was difficult to keep up with him from the road but, with effort, she managed to glide between the debris. The hard part was keeping track of Scout as he abandoned his previously straight path to run in ostensibly random directions. More than once, Pauling swore they went in a full circle despite the scenery looking different with every turn. 

“SCOUT!” She yelled, but either her voice was drowned by her bike or he was too panicked to respond. 

The twists and turns became more and more frequent. The swiveling distorted Pauling's vision, making the gray and brown scenery turn vibrant red and blue. It was beginning to nauseate her. She thought about stopping, but the idea of hitting the brakes made her head feel like it would explode.

Scout changed directions again. She barely caught it—a flash across her vision—but she skidded after him, not even seeing what was in that direction. 

It was careless and messy on her part; she easily could have slammed into a wall from how desperately she pivoted. Thankfully, instead of breaking her teeth on wood or concrete, she flew into an open space. 

The close-knit maze of structures was suddenly gone. She looked behind her and saw the ordinary buildings she’d expect, but much further away than they should be based on how she’d just exited their alleys. She turned her attention back to the space in front of her. It was a wide, sandy square, barren of anything except for a metal circle in its center. 

A bomb hatch? Pauling wondered in morbid awe. This puzzle just kept getting pieces and pieces that didn’t fit together at all. 

“Whaaat? Nah, I’m Right on schedule. The schedule is right on, haha.” Nervous chatter drew her attention back to her target. Scout was standing at the edge of the hatch, speaking into his earpiece and fighting to get his long ears properly through his cap again. 

“Hey! Rabbit boy! Scout!” Pauling called. She dismounted her motorcycle and ran at him. 

Scout’s face fell when he saw her coming. “Crap. Lady, I don’t have time for this!” His paw flew up to his earpiece again. “Nope! No problem! YES, I KNOW I’M GONNA BE LATE,” he yelled at whoever was on the other end. 

Just as Pauling was about to grab him, he hopped backward and plummeted into the bomb hatch. 

“Caaaallll meeeeeeeeee!” He shouted as he fell into the darkness.

Pauling stared, mouth open. One, she didn’t realize the hole was open and, two, there was no way anyone would survive a fall like that. She didn’t even hear him hit the bottom, he just called until his voice was too far away to hear.

Tentatively, she reached out and stuck a hand over the hatch, eyes widening as it went right through the metal. The cover was only was an optical illusion painted onto the sides.

She sat back and bit her thumb. She wanted to know where this went. She REALLY wanted to know, but she also didn’t like the idea of dying trying to catch up to an obnoxious rabbit boy. She stood up and walked back to her bike, picking it up, but looked back at the mysterious hatch. With a stubborn groan, she let her bike fall again. 

Instead of leaving and instead of jumping in blindly, Pauling decided to compromise with herself. She opened the pack on her bike and took out some supplies; namely a grappling hook and a heavy-duty flashlight. She then slung the rest of the pack over her shoulder and reapproached the pit. 

“Come on, Pauling,” she told herself. “When are you ever gonna get a break again?”

With that, she secured the hook above ground, straightened her glasses, and leaped into the unknown.

Chapter Text

“WOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!” Pauling cried in absolute delight as she rushed downward.

She had no idea how long she’d been sliding but the wind was rushing, she was heading into someplace that was probably exciting, and she was having the time of her life. 

TUNK. 

“OW.” 

Her fun was cut short by a red and blue checkered floor (and/or ceiling...?) Specifically, it was cut short because she slammed into the surface head-first.

She flopped onto her back, life flashing before her eyes. Amazingly, she wasn’t dead or paralyzed; aside from the initial shock of the impact, plus some minor residual pain, she was completely fine. 

She looked up, squinting, following the rope into the darkness. She’d been going down feet first, how the hell had she ended up on her head?  She stumbled upright, taking in her new surroundings.

She was in a bizarre, workshop-like place. Strange machines of every shape and size cluttered the area. The only place that wasn’t lined with some kind of tool, mechanism, or contraption was the spot where she’d landed. She couldn’t tell how big the room was because there didn’t appear to be any walls, just shadows that circled the eye-straining floor. It gave off a liminal endless-yet-claustrophobic effect. 

The space was a distinctly average temperature despite all the purring motors and, though she couldn’t see anything being worked on, the sound of saws, fireballs, hammers, and various other tools rang in the air. 

The construction ambiance took an unbalanced pattern, almost like a percussion performance—almost. The whirring and banging blended into an uncanny rhythm. It wasn’t musical, but if she didn’t pay attention she’d mistake it for a little ditty. The not-quite-a-song was low and quiet, relaxing even. A little country. It gave Pauling the image of casually lounging around a campfire or breakroom. 

“Whoah there, Miss. That was quite a tumble,” a deep, clement voice echoed around her, cutting through the not-music.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She swiveled her head, keeping her demeanor calm and casual as she tried to locate the source of the voice. “So, stranger living in a weird factory under a bomb hatch, have you by any chance seen an anthropomorphic rabbit run by here?"

“You mean Scout? Sure have. Everyone gets a load of that kid, whether they want to or not.”

“Oh, well, that’s great because I do want to. Find him, that is." She couldn't keep pretending she wasn't looking for him. It would be obvious to him anyway at this point. "I’m sorry, but I can’t focus when I can’t see you. Where are you?

“Over here, missy,” the voice called again.

Pauling spun around, still unable to locate any person. 

“No, over here. Ma’am. Over HERE.”

Even with his raised voice giving her a sense of his general direction, she couldn't find him. “I don’t see anything but your machines. Can you come to me?” 

“You’re a bit touched, ain’tcha? Course I can’t! Ah, here, just head where the sentries are pointing.”

Several machines in the room suddenly shifted position. Pauling jumped back as several turrets aimed themselves right at her. She turned around slowly, carefully tracing the direction of the pointers with her finger.

The ends all led to a solid gate-shaped piece of wood that blended perfectly into the clutter. It was smaller than the average machine in the room, only about as high as her ribcage. The pattern of the wood gave it the vague outline of a simplistic face. Two oddly round knots for the eyes, a bump in the center that could be interpreted as a nose, and cracks that impersonated a mouth. 

The pane of wood was different—it wasn’t mechanical like everything else—but she still could not see the person she was talking to.

Maybe I’m meant to do something with this first? Pauling questioned, reaching down to touch one of the knots.

“Owch!” The block yelled as her finger tapped against it.  

Pauling shrieked, falling backward into a  pile of open toolboxes. She fumbled to straighten her glasses but her clear vision only confirmed the absurd scene in front of her: the face on the wood was not a coincidental pattern of the plank. The face on the wood was a face. A moving, speaking face. The “eyes” looked more like goggles, but they moved and blinked, and they stared down at her. 

It chuckled, “What’s wrong? I ain’t that ugly.” Its voice was still amiable and calming, despite her horrified reaction. 

“I just… I just didn’t realize you were a… a… actually, I still have no idea what you are.”

“So, Scout racing around (probably causing trouble for a girl like you) ain’t no thing, but me sitting in my own workshop gets you yowling like a pig on a ham holiday?” 

Pauling thought about it. This wasn’t much weirder than anything else she’d seen today. “I see your point,” she conceded, standing up and brushing loose screws out of her hair. “Sorry for stabbing you in the eye-goggles-thing.”

“It’s fine, nice to have a ruckus caused by someone new for once. I’m the Engineer. Nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Pauling.” She instinctively held out a hand, awkwardly moving it to fix her sleeve when she realized Engineer didn’t have any hands to shake. 

“Pauling? Never heard of those before. What do you do?”

“Mostly I work in ‘clean up.’ You know, fixing and preventing messes.”

“Clean up, huh? You won’t have much use for that ‘round here. Folks like their messes just the way they are.”

Pauling couldn’t help but grin. “I was actually hoping for something like that. My work can get pretty boring.”

“In that case, I can see why you’d wanna find Scout. He's a lotta things but dull ain't one."

“Oh, right,” Pauling had almost forgotten. “Which way did he go?”

“Through me.”

“Oh, uh, are you a door?” 

Engineer smiled, amused. “I’m the Engineer. I make doors, in a way, but I’d consider myself more of a wall. A chart, a dossier, if you will. The quickest way in and out of most places is to ask me.” 

“In that case, can you help me find Rabbit Boy?" She quickly added, "Please?” This fellow seemed like someone who'd appreciate manners.

“Sure thing. You see that machine over there?” The turrets spun around again, this time pointed at a tiny contraption on top of one of the various larger ones. “That’s where he went.”

Pauling picked it up, squinting to examine it before placing it back down on the other machine. It wasn’t much bigger than a lego but it looked like an incredibly complicated piece of equipment. 

“How do I use it?”

“Hold on, now. You’re a bit too big for that.”

“What, is there a weight limit?” She joked. 

“Uh.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Technically. ‘Course, I wouldn’t have said it that way but, yes, there is. You really think you could fit on top of that right now? It’s no problem, though. You see that machine it was sitting on? That there’s a dispenser.”

The dispenser churned to life as he spoke, spitting out a white tablet. 

“Take that, it’ll get you where you need to go.”

Pauling took the tablet between her fingers and held it up to her eye. It was chalky, unmarked, and altogether suspicious. In her gut, she felt like she could trust Engineer, but, in her head, she knew that popping pills from talking walls was a very stupid idea. 

Then again, she might already be in a hallucination, dream, or otherwise mentally compromised. 

Pauling didn’t know why she hadn’t considered the possibility sooner. She’d already had so many weird things happen: humanoid rabbits, magical mechanic workshops in upside-down bomb hatches, and, most unbelievable of all, she’d been given a break! She might as well forgo what logic still remained and go all the way into the crazy.

“Hey, Engineer, you said this is the quickest but is there any other way out of here?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, doing the closest thing to shrugging he could. “I suppose if you started walking you might end up somewhere new eventually, but I’ve always been content with my projects here. My workshop is a big place.”

“Uh-huh.” Pauling looked around again. Just as she'd (kind of) expected, the rope she’d come down on was nowhere to be found. When she looked up, all she saw was the same liminal darkness that ebbed the edges of the room. “So, there’s no way I could get back, right?”

“Back where?”

“Tuefort. Where I came from.”

Engineer stared blankly.

"It's in New Mexico? USA?"

"Uh..."

"Earth?" She tried.

Engineer's face gave the impression that if he had hands, he'd be scratching his head. “Um, I’d have to say no to that. I can’t send you somewhere I don’t know. Besides, travel anywhere outside of Blunderland ain’t really my business.” 

“Blunderland?” 

“Well, where else would we be?” He spoke gently and with a subtle humor as if she was talking nonsense and he was generously not calling her crazy.

“Yup. Okay. Copy that. Why not?” Either this is a dream and nothing bad can happen to me, or this is real and I don’t have a choice, Pauling reasoned to herself. She held the tablet up to Engineer. “Welp, bottoms up.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She popped the tablet and swallowed it dry. 

Strangely, although she barely had it in her mouth, it was extremely flavorful. The idea of char, bread, bacon, olives, and alcohol twisted around her tongue as if she’d just eaten a large lunch. She smacked her lips, trying to decide if the taste was bad or not. 

Aside from the weird savoriness left on her tongue, she didn’t feel any different. She turned to ask Engineer how long it would take for the effect to set in. Rather than the short plank of wood she expected, she was met instead with an eye-to-eye view.

She faltered. “Did you get taller?” 

“Nope.”

“Then did I— Woah.” Her question was answered before she could ask it. Everything in the room suddenly rushed upward, expanding, as she saw herself shrink. 

Pauling blinked rapidly. She rubbed and tapped her face, trying to come to her senses again. 

She was still standing upright, but it felt as though she’d blacked out. At first glance, her surroundings didn’t look different; machines ranging from giant to tiny encircled her and they still thumped and puffed along to the same uncanny rhythm. 

“Engineer?” She called into the clangor. 

His response was booming. “Up here.”

She obeyed, searching upward to find Engineer was now the size of a house compared to her. She laughed in wonder. “I shrunk!” 

“That was the idea,” Engineer beamed with a humble tint of pride. “Now, just step on the teleporter and you can be on your way.”

“Great! Where’s the teleporter?”

“It’s the first machine I showed you. That little feller.”

“You mean the one I left on the top of the dispenser?” She sheepishly asked. 

“Er, yeah. That would be the one. 

Pauling sighed. “Okay. This is fine. I’ll just have to go for an unplanned climb. Annoying, but not the end of the world.”

“Ain’t that thing like a mountain to you right now? I respect the gumption, but you could just use that little dispenser down there. No disrespect intended, ma’am,” he politely added. “I’m sure you could do it on your own if you wanted."

Pauling looked to her right, noticing a dispenser with a freshly dispensed tablet waiting. “Oh. That’ll be easier.”

She picked up the pill and took it, this time prepared for the dizzying ordeal of size-shifting. The dispenser next to her shrunk down into a miniature. She watched as Engineer also shrunk until he was back to his rib-high height—and then he was waist-high… then thigh-high… then knee-high. When she finally stopped, she could pluck him up like doll furniture. 

“Well I’ll be,” he marveled. “I should probably label the dosage on these a bit more clearly.” 

Pauling was far less casual about the over-corrective. “That teleporter has gotta be smaller than my fingernail at this point!”

“Right, right, sorry, I get carried away when it comes to my machines sometimes.”

"What do I do now?"

“I don't know! You got any tweezers on you or something?”

“Wait. Actually, I might. Hold on.” 

Pauling slung the pack she had off her shoulders. She riffled through a side pocket and pulled out a little case, clicking it open to reveal a set of tools tucked neatly inside. 

“Nice. You’re my kind of person,” Engineer complimented.

“Thanks. That’s one bonus of my work, I guess. I always have to be prepared.”

She reached down and carefully lifted the dispenser, cupping her hands to ensure the teleporter wouldn’t fall. She gently lifted the teleporter with her tweezers. 

Now, how am I supposed to get the shrinking tablet? It’s like a grain of sand to me now. She wondered. Hmm. What if I just…

She put the dispenser up to her mouth and licked it. At first, all she could taste was metal, like she’d put a quarter in her mouth. Then, that lunchmeats/cider flavor spread through her tongue, and vertigo coursed through her senses again. 

An onrush once more overtook her body and the room expanded around her. Or, rather, it expended below her as she was abruptly a few miles up in the air, freefalling and the tiniest she’d ever been. 

The teleporter grew as well, busting out of her tweezer’s grip. It was now the size of a longboard. It hovered in the air next to Pauling for a split second before it began plummeting much faster than her. 

“Ah! Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell, oh hell!"

Her wits took a while to catch up to her as she fell toward the gargantuan steel-filled room below. She panicked before realizing there was a teleporter below her, she had a way out of this that didn’t involve her splatting like a squished fly.

She gained composure (as much composure as one could while flailing in the air towards an ever-approaching doom) and straightened herself into a diving position. 

Gaining on the teleporter, she shouted to Engineer, “How does this thing work?”

“You just gotta stand on top, it’ll do the rest!” 

Pauling gave a firm and determined nod, although there was no way Engineer would be able to see her response. She stuck her arms out, stretching far as she could, but her fingertips only brushed the edge of the teleporter. 

Too short on time to risk reaching again, she dove once more and fell beneath the teleporter, then spread out to catch herself. 

“Oof,” she spluttered as the clunky machine hit her in the chest. 

A glance from the side of her vision let her know she had about ten seconds before she turned into a stain on chrome. She wrapped her arms around the teleporter and heaved herself up onto the correct side. The bricks on the end began to spin wildly until all she could see was a blurry circle. 

“Good luck!” She heard Engineer say just before she hit the surface and her vision went bright. 

Chapter Text

Pauling, yet again, found herself falling. This time, instead of rushing through darkness or plunging to a splattery death, she was in a bright pale open sky. And she wasn’t alone.

All around her, helicopters and planes droned. Figures were launching themselves in and out of them, some getting shredded by the blades or bludgeoned on the hulls as they vaulted. She narrowly avoided the uprushing saw of a chopper’s rotor herself. 

A burly hand shot out as she fell past the helicopter. It crushed her wrist with a painfully firm grip and swung her inside.

She found herself being held at eye level with a giant. He was barechested, showing off inhumanly large muscles, with a surly mustache and jean shorts so short Pauling at first feared he was only wearing underwear. Though the helicopter was enormous, he had to bend to fit inside. He stared intensely at her. His mouth twitched slightly in thought.

“What is that?” A flittery voice from behind the hulking mass called. 

Pauling peered to the side and locked eyes with a lanky man in a blue suit. Strangely, it took her a moment to notice his caprine horns and cow tail. Her initial attention had been instead drawn to familiar eye bags and exasperated expression. 

A moment of mutual understanding followed the assistants’ stare.

“I don’t know, Bidwell,” the giant interrupted their minute of empathy. “That’s what you and Reddy are for!” 

Pauling cleared her throat. “Excuse me but my arm is starting to hurt. Can you put me down?”

“Yes. Please, Sir,” Bidwell came to her side.

Pauling was subsequently dropped to the ground. She landed on her feet and brushed herself off. “Thanks, Mr… Uh?” 

“HA!” The giant let out a hearty bark. “Incredible! You must be the rarest thing in the world to have never heard of—” 

Bidwell covered his ears. 

“—SAXTON HAAALLLE!”  As he shouted, Saxton struck a triumphant pose, standing to his full height and fleshing his arms over his head. His fists went straight through the roof. The blades, instead of slicing his hands off, shattered against his fists. He looked up. “Oops.” 

They seemed to hang in the air for a moment before plummeting straight down. 

Pauling instinctively let out a yelp as she was tossed into the air. Bidwell only put a hand to his face. Saxton began laughing. He kicked off the hull and snatched Bidwell in one arm and Pauling in the other, launching all three of them into the open air just as the shuddering helicopter exploded. 

Aside from being startled, Pauling couldn't find it in herself to panic. She’d gotten so used to falling at this point that she barely reacted at all, except to glance at their landing point. 

While suspended in the air, she did notice something she hadn’t before. The figures jumping onto and out of the aircrafts were all mythical creatures. They looked like off-brand legendary animals. One glittery equine that could almost be a stereotypical unicorn—if not for the lack of fur or hair—flumped right past them. Without a word, Saxton flung himself around and kicked the creature so hard it burst, coating the three of them in a red splatter. Pauling spat out some blood that hit her face (although it disturbingly tasted quite nice, like sweet hashbrowns).

Saxton landed effortlessly on a plane that swooped in beneath them. “Sorry about that!” He cheerily apologized, gently letting Pauling drop from his arms and slinging Bidwell off his shoulder. “Now, down to business,” he turned to Pauling with a glint that made her step back. 

“What exactly is your business?” Pauling inquired, nervously rubbing naked-unicorn bits off her glasses.

“Hunting! Punching! Adventure!” Saxon boisterously answered in rapid fire.

“Well, he used to be king…” Bidwell began at the same time but trailed off.

“Uh-huh,” Pauling nodded, packing all of that away. “So, when you talk about me being ‘rare’ do you mean you’re planning on hunting me down and stuffing me like a trophy? I just want to be clear here.”

Saxton looked at her blankly, his smiling expression frozen on his face. 

“Sir, you’re not seriously still considering that, are you? She's clearly not one of our creatures.” Bidwell pleaded. Saxon glanced at him, then back at Pauling. “Sir,” Bidwell said again. 

“Alright, alright,” Saxton put up his hands. “Don’t get after me like that! There’s nothing wrong with a bit of sport if the lady is up to it.” 

Pauling tilted her head, considering it for a moment, but a pointed stare and a slow headshake from Bidwell made up her mind. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she quickly replied.

“Aw.” Saxton shrunk like a mopey puppy. “You seem so fun though; you’ve got some actual fight in you! Full offense, Bidwell.”

Bidwell shrugged, accepting and unfazed. 

“What if you hunted with me?” Saxton offered. 

“Sorry, I still have to pass.” 

“You could just help me round up some of these fellows. I tell you, sometimes getting them in the air is more challenging than killing them before they hit the ground. Please, Miss I-forgot-your-name-already? These animals aren’t going to drive themselves extinct!”

Pauling paused, taking a second to realize how weird it was that they were all falling through the sky right now. “That seems wildly counterproductive,” was all she could think to say. "If your goal is to kill them, why set them free? And why do it in such an inconvenient way?“ 

Saxton looked offended. “For the thrill! For the hunt! For the challenge! Any grey fool could do something efficiently. I know that look in you; don’t lie, you know exactly what kind of unbridled joys I’m talking about. I can smell the adrenaline addiction on types like you!”

Pauling felt her face flush at the accusation, but it was clear from Saxton’s face that it was meant only as an eager compliment.

She relented, “It sounds fun, really, but I’m busy. Sometime later, maybe?”

“It's a date then!"

"No."

"Okay!"

"Oh!" Pauling jumped to attention. “But that reminds me: have either of you seen a spotted rabbit in a baseball cap run by?”

“Hmm.” Saxton put a hand to his chin. “Nope! I don’t pay attention to varmints like that. I’ve got my eyes locked on the good stuff!” 

As if to prove his point, an inverted hippocampus fell next to them. His hand shot out, grabbing it by the hoof and twirl-launching it into a nearby helicopter, both of which promptly exploded. 

Bidwell tapped Pauling's shoulder and pointed upwards. “It’s not much of a lodestar, but if this rabbit isn't part of the Chase here then he’s probably gone somewhere down there.”

Pauling followed his gaze. Her eyes went wide as she looked up, looking down at the ground. She whipped her head down (Up?) off the side of the plain and saw they were falling only toward the more endless sky. 

“ Wh - never mind. How do I get… there?”

“Jerry can take you,” Saxton offered.

“Who’s—”

“JERRY!” Saxton barked, interrupting her. 

From seemingly nowhere, a fourth person bolted out of the air and crashed onto the now-crowded plane top. He bolted upright, reporting to Saxton. 

The new man was alike, in many ways, to Bidwell. He was thin and of average height with dark hair. He had on a pilot’s outfit with a matching cap and compound goggles but, instead of horns and a tail, had two sets of large insect wings protruding from his back. Pauling stifled a gasp as every hexagon of Jerry’s goggles blinked, registering that they weren’t goggles at all but bug-like compound eyes.

“Take this fine lady to the ground,” Saxton ordered.

Jerry froze. Pauling couldn’t tell, but she was pretty certain he was looking around nervously. “Take her down right here?” He buzzed. His voice had a drone to it as though he was speaking into a fan. 

Saxton pushed the rigid Jerry towards Pauling. “That’s what I said.” 

“B-but, sir, we’re over the War Grounds right now.”

“Yes. And?”

“Can’t Reddy do this? He’s the one qualified to be down there! Down there with them.” 

“Oh, come off it, you pansy.” Saxton clapped Jerry roughly on the back. “The boys are fine! Besides, Reddy’s already on the ground herding the runaways back into the air for us.”

“I-but you-this-” Jerry stammered. Saxton’s face didn’t budge. Jerry sighed, defeated, “Okay.” He flew up behind Pauling. “Pardon me,” he apologized as he stuck his arms under her armpits and lifted her up. 

“Oh! Uh, okay then. Bye!” She called to Bidwell and Saxton as she was swiftly carried upwards to the ground. 

“Bye, Miss!” Bidwell called back. “Good luck!”

“I’ll see you on our date!” Saxton yelled. 

Pauling was suddenly very glad to be flying away at top speeds. 

Jerry skillfully weaved between off-brand mythical creatures, debris, and vehicles alike. He was quiet the whole way down, something Pauling didn’t mind after hanging out with Saxton Hale. 

Despite how long they seemed to have been falling, the ride to the ground went by very fast. It was only a few seconds before Pauling could make out the topography through the cirrus clouds; it was a grey and black forest, utterly devoid of leaves or greenery. Smoke and fire seemed to make up the only splashes of color in the landscape. 

Jerry began shaking as they approached. 

Other senses were observable now: remote shuddering of the earth, distant laughter, explosions, and even the trace of a waltz or piccolo reached Pauling’s ears. She could smell the sweet stench of gunpowder and fuel. Adrenaline tantalized her twitching muscles, ready to run and fight. 

An explosion much closer than any before shattered the air. 

Pauling swore for a second she saw a man go flying past her, but it was probably just a trick of her eye from when Jerry screamed, dropped her, and bolted back into the animal-filled sky. 

Chapter Text

Pauling crashed into the branch after branch, each one poofing into ash as soon as she hit it. The soot covered her whole body, caking her glasses, but it at least made for a much softer landing than the ground.

She coughed, stumbling out of the ash pile onto the musty black ground. She removed the blindfold that her glasses had become and squinted at the blurry world around her. In the air, a blur she assumed was Jerry dashed back into the animal-filled sky. 

“AYE, YE BETTEHR RUN!” A blusterous voice whooped from somewhere in the forest.

From above, another voice shouted, getting closer. “YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY WAR GROUNDS, BUTTERFLY!” 

Thump. 

Pauling jumped, spinning around and socking the man that just landed behind her square in the jaw. It was like hitting a tree trunk. 

“Ow!” She grabbed her hand, dropping her glasses. 

The man, holding a hand to where she’d hit him, got centimeters away from Pauling’s face and growled. 

Even with her blurry vision, she could tell that this man was a soldier. Not just because of his steel pot helmet, or the fact they were in something called “the War Grounds,” but by the very way he was shaped and held himself. There was just no other assumption one could make. 

“What are you?” The Soldier demanded. 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Would a polite ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ kill you guys?”

“QUIET! I want a rank, you strange purple maggot. Spit it out! Now!”

“Lay off the lass, Soldier.” Another man—the first voice she’d heard—stepped up behind him and smacked the back of his helmet. “Cannae see she’s just a wee little thing? She won't do ya no harm.”

“SHE WILL AND SHE HAS! You will get your ass handed to you on a silver platter with an intuition like that.” Soldier turned to bark at the newcomer. “I was not in her proximity for more than two seconds before she struck me right in the kisser!”

“Hey, I only hit you because you fell out of the sky right behind me.” Pauling huffed. “It was instinct, I’m sorry.” 

“DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR GOOD INSTINCTS! THAT IS A VALUABLE SKILL TO HAVE!” 

Pauling jumped back again at the shouting, surprised at what she could only assume to be a compliment. “Right. Thanks? Um. Anyway, you can call me Pauling or Miss Pauling, if you like. My ‘rank’ would be… assistant? I suppose?”

“Nice to meet ye, Assistant. I’m the Demoman but most folks call me Demo.” He stuck out his hand. Pauling shook it. He had stony skin and a surprisingly professional grip. 

“And I am the Soldier!” 

“I figured as much.”

“Sometimes my friends call me Solly! You may not call me that.”

“Okay then, Soldier. Nice to meet you?” Pauling offered him a handshake as well, which he took with sudden enthusiasm. He seemed to switch from blistering commander to eager friend often and rapidly. 

“So, what brings you to the War Grounds, Assistant?” Soldier asked cheerily in his gruff voice. He was still vigorously shaking Pauling’s hand.

“Y-you c-can j-just c-call—” Pauling tore her hand from his grip. “Just call me Miss Pauling, please.” 

“Okay! What brings you to the War Grounds, Miss Pauling?” 

“Well, firstly, I need to find my glasses.”

Soldier raised his hand. “What are those? And can I use them to blow him up?” He pointed to Demo (who seemed just as eager about the possibility) with his thumb. 

“Um, no.”

“Aw.” Soldier put his hand down.

Pauling shrugged apologetically. “I need them to see. They’re just ordinary glasses. You know, two glass panes inside a frame.” 

“Uh…” Demo lifted his shoe. “They woul’n happen to be these things I just stepped on, would they?”

“What?” Pauling bent down and plucked her soot-covered broken glasses. 

She grumbled as she wiped them down on her leggings. The lenses were cracked and stained, and the frame was bent awkwardly around her nose, but she could see again. (At least, she could see better than she had without them.) 

Getting a solid look at Demoman and Soldier was an experience, to say the least.

Though they were nothing compared to the giant that had been Saxton Hale, they were still tall and buff dudes. Demo stood at nearly 2 meters, with Soldier being a bit shorter. 

Demo was dressed head to toe in regal white and silver. He wore a thick vest and sturdy boots, with stout sleeves underneath. His skin looked like it had the texture of rock. Hell, there was literally a crack running down the right side of his face, through an eye socket that was filled with a white stone. Altogether, he looked like he belonged in the middle of a fancy fountain by a castle. 

Soldier, on the other hand, was a mucky fellow. His black and dark-grey uniform looked raggedy, although there was no actual wear or tear visible on it. He was covered in patches of dirt. Twigs and other flecks of debris were stuck to his helmet and coat. His boots were covered in mud. 

What really caught Pauling’s eye, though, was their weapons. Soldier was leaning on a rocket launcher nearly as tall as he was. Several grenades were strung around his chest. There was also a shovel strapped to his back, for some reason. Likewise, Demo was decked from head to toe in explosives. He was casually holding a bomb launcher at his side, and there was a beautiful sword on his waist. 

Pauling found herself reaching toward the blade, marveling. 

Demo caught sight of this and took a swift step back, unsheathing it in an instant change of character. A dangerous and combatant aura overcame his merry composure. 

Pauling didn’t much mind having a sword pointed at her chest; all it did was give her an even better look at it. She whistled, never taking her eyes off the masterpiece. “That’s gorgeous.” 

Demo faltered, blinking slowly before shifting back into his casual stance. “Aye, she is, ain’t she?” 

Pauling held out her hands. “May I?” 

“Uh… I ‘spose. Be careful, though. Eyelander can be a brat.”

Paulig grabbed the sword from Demo’s hands. She fumbled at first, getting the weight positioned correctly in her hands, but then held it up with strong and eager glee. 

“Who dares hold me? Are you here for war? Are you here for battle?” A voice cut through Pauling’s mind like a knife. 

“Mmm, yes.” Pauling’s subconscious answered casually for her.

“Love that enthusiasm,” the sword scoffed. “Prove it to me. Prove you—”

Pauling turned on her heel and swung at the trunk of a nearby tree. She wasn’t the best with melee weapons; it was by far her least practiced form of violence, but she planted her feet in the proper stance and the rush of the swing poured in from the hilt. 

The blade cut through the bone-thick trunk like butter. It stood tall for a moment as if nothing happened, then slid off the side and collapsed in an explosion of ash. 

“Oh,” Was all Demo said. “Maybe ye were right,” he whispered to Soldier under his breath. 

“Right about what?” Eyelander yelped. Pauling felt its ferocity begin to pull her muscles again. “What did that bobble-headed sucker say about me?”

“Not you, ya dolt,” Demo tried to explain to Eyelander but it was too late. 

Eyelander, still held firmly in Pauling’s grip, launched itself at Soldier. It planted itself through his side with a solid thunk, exactly the same feeling as cutting the tree. 

“Oh my God,” Pauling yelled, yanking it back out. “I am so sorry!” 

Shit, I should have left it in, she cursed to herself. Now he’s probably gonna bleed out. 

“EY! What the bloody hell is yer problem?” Demo jumped at her, grabbing for his sword. “Ye know very well that’s my job!” 

Instinctively, she spun around and kneed him in the gut. “It wasn’t me! It was this sword!” 

Demo didn’t answer,  clutching his stomach where he’d been hit. 

“Well, the sword did the stabbing,” she chuckled apologetically under her breath.

“I AM GOING TO SNAP YOU IN HALF!” 

Pauling glanced behind her. Soldier was standing up. His side was gushing what looked like black ink but otherwise, he seemed entirely fine. And angry. She glanced back to Demo reaching for his bomb launcher. 

“Shit,” she muttered and took off running. 

For an area with such a violent name, the War Grounds were surprisingly quiet; it could almost be described as peaceful. Dashing through the tall coal trees under the ashen sky inspired a tranquil feeling inside Pauling. 

The explosions and unintelligible shouts that were following her, however, did not. 

“Where are you going? Fight! FIGHT! I want the Soldier’s head!” Eyelander whined in her mind.

She ignored it, whipping past tree after tree, each tangled root or gnarled trunk she grazed bursting into shattering into a suffocating cloud of ash. She stopped trying to doge them altogether and just sprinted straight ahead. The nature around her gave in—until it didn’t. 

In her mad dash away from the explosive men, Pauling failed to notice that the black forest ended in a perfect line. She had crossed the stark boundary and smacked into a solid stone, abruptly finding herself in a completely different world. 

The ground beneath her was no longer spongey dark dirt but, instead, pale and rocky sand. What she’d stupidly run into was a huge stalagmite (one of many that checkered the dessert). They rippled with layers of pearlescent white. The field of these regal rocks looked almost as though castle turrets had been erected across the land.

“Oh hey, we’re home!” Eyelander piped up in sarcastic excitement. “Anyway, if you’re done being a coward, can we go back and kill that guy now?”

Pauling had enough of being insulted by this scrap of metal. She had no idea why she was even still carrying it around.

“Because you can’t put me down,” It smugly informed her. "I’m made for attacking, so you’re either gonna attack or hold onto me forever. Why not make this interesting for both of us and, you know, decapitate something?” 

“Something, huh?” Pauling looked back up

“Wait wait wait, NO—” Eyelander might’ve been able to read her mind and seek out blood, but it couldn’t stop her from slamming it into the stalagmite. 

The first swing hit a marble-looking loop. It bounced back, chipping the stone and blunting the sword. 

“JEEZ, LADY!” Eyelander squawked. “ What is your PROBLEM? Didn’t you say I was a masterpiece or something?” 

“I don’t know! Maybe my dislike of being possessed or cursed or whatever you think you’re doing to me outweighs my admiration of weaponry?” Pauling smiled threateningly. 

“Okay, that’s fair. I–” It was interrupted as she smacked it against the rock again, this time hitting a ring of sparkling crystal. “ OW. I’ll stop! I’ll stop! You know, you could have a little respect for a magic sword. Yeesh.” 

“Sorry, but there’s only one person I really respect.” Pauling shrugged and jammed the sword forward. This time, the part it hit was a malleable alabaster-like layer. Eyelander sunk inside, stuck like Excalibur. 

Somehow, even though it was telepathic, the rock muffled Eyelander’s voice. It faintly garbled on in her head but she could no longer make out the words. She basked in the ignorable quiet. Cool as it was, that sword was getting a little annoying. 

“HALT, MAGGOT.”

The suddenly-close shouting was her only warning as a rocket plunged toward her. Pauling yelped and dove out of the way, landing on her back but somehow dodging the massive explosion. 

Soldier came flying out of the dark forest. He landed on rough sand with a crunch. “I SAID HALT.”

“I am halted!” Pauling barked back at him.

He scooted to a stop right in front of her, looking down in surprise. From this angle, Pauling could see his smokey pitch-black irises under his helmet. 

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah. You really didn’t need to shoot at me.” 

“Why not?” He asked with the tone of a child who’d been told not to smash his hands into a cake.

Pauling opened her mouth to answer but stopped when she saw Demo rushing out of the woods as well.  

“SOLLY, YE BASTARD,” He huffed. “WOULD YA WAIT FER WAN MOMENT?” 

“We are waiting!” Soldier informed him with a salute. 

“Ah.” Demo stopped. “So you are.” He looked awkwardly from one to the other for a moment. “Well then, where’s ma eejit of a sword?” 

“MMHMM MM HMMM,” Eyelander screeched loud enough for all three of their heads to echo.

Demo sighed and pulled it out. “I swear, ye are insufferable when it comes to guests.” 

“You aren’t supposed to have guests! You’re supposed to kill HIM! (With me, preferably.)”

Demo rolled his eye and sheathed the sword, silencing it completely. “Aye,” he huffed. “I’M s’posed tae kill him. That’s my job, ye bloodthirsty glory hog.” 

As he talked, Pauling stood up and dusted herself off, finally noticing how all the black soot she’d gathered earlier had turned to glittery white dust. Her hands and glasses were coated in it as well. 

“Huh,” she wondered at the sparkly residue. She turned to ask Demo about it, glancing up just in time to see Soldier wack him in the back of the head with his shovel. 

Demo fell into his face. “OW. Oi!” He flipped to his back and kicked Soldier hard in the shin, knocking him to his knees and pouncing on him. “I’m gonne jam my thumbs in your eyes and hang on ‘til ye’re DEAD!” 

Soldier, in turn, dropped his shovel and opted to smash his head against Demo’s. Helmet met skull with a crack. “I AM GOING TO CLAW MY WAY DOWN YOUR THROAT AND TEAR OUT YOUR VERY SOUL!”

Pauling watched the two tussle for a moment. She’d stopped trying to question how anything worked in this world and decided firmly against getting in the way of their war. Besides, they seemed to really enjoy it. 

“Hey, guys?” 

Despite being in the middle of getting throttled, Soldier looked up with a polite grin. “Yes, Miss Pauling?” 

“I’m gonna head out now.”

Demo took a hard fist to the jaw. He slumped back, looking up at Pauling from the ground. “Aw, ye don’t wanna stay en fight? It’s been a while since we’ve had someone fun join us! Usually, the only spice we get es just whatever creatures Saxton misses, en those’r like stopin’ out daisies.”

“I’m on a mission right now, looking for a rabbit (long story) and I’ve gotten sidetracked as it is. Some other time, though, I’d love to!” 

“Rabbit?” Soldier paused his attacks. “I know a rabbit!” 

“Aye, doesn’t that scampering berry-muncher live in one of yer areas?” Demo agreed, reaching for a patch of especially rocky ground. 

“Yeah! He—AUUGH.” Soldier bumbled backward as a fistful of sharp sand was thrust up his nose and mouth. He spluttered the rest of his sentence out, “His base is stationed on the 6th of the 1st.”

“What?” 

“We’re on the 3rd of the 1st now,” Demo helpfully informed her as he loaded his bomb launcher. Soldier was still coughing out sand. “Ye just walk that way ‘til you get back to his, then mine, then his again. That oughta be where that twinkled-toed toy is.”

“Oh,” Pauling said, understanding. “It’s like a board?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Demo smiled over his shoulder while aiming at Soldier. 

“Thanks! See you guys later, I guess.”

“Goodbye Miss Pauling!” Soldier hollered from the ground, giving a lively and friendly wave. “ It was fun getting stabbed by you! Come back soon!”

“I will!” She happily called, having already put a good distance between herself and them. A world-shaking BOOM ensured her this was the right choice. She chuckled, shaking her head as she continued toward the next square of woods. 

Chapter Text

As the sounds of the battle gradually faded behind her, Pauling found her surroundings shifting strangely. Demo’s directions were easy to follow; the first two squares she passed were identical to the looming forests and regal rocks she’d been to before, but the final turf of her journey went on far longer than any of the others had. The Soldier’s War Grounds—if she was even still in the War Grounds—had slowly become more and more vivid. Color was blooming everywhere from the roots to the dirt to the sky, and signs of life like leaves and bugs splashed the environment in a familiar, alien way.

When she finally came upon it, the house was a whole other level of uncanny. It was… certainly a house. A patchwork one, but a house. It was large, it had doors and roofs and windows, but something about it felt strange. Not the fact that it was cobbled together from apartments, cottages, spaceships, and trailers; not that it seemed to be abandoned in some parts, new in others, splattered with bricks and boards and plaster; not any of that. Pauling had learned to expect strange architecture, flora, and fauna by now.

No, what made it strange, she realized, was that none of it was real. As she’d noted before, it was an actual house—no illusions or cardboard cutouts—but it was akin to a doll’s house. The proportions were slightly askew. Everything held a plastic sheen to it. It was just wrong in other ways she couldn't name.

As Pauling cautiously approached, the texture of the ground beneath her feet changed yet again. The earth felt softer, spongier, like she was walking on a thick, plush carpet instead of dirt. She glanced down and realized the grass wasn’t grass at all. It was made of tiny, interwoven threads, like the fibers of a toy.

She stopped just before the porch, studying the front door. It was painted a cheerful green and blue, but the doorknob was absurdly large, as if it had been designed for hands much bigger than hers. She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to turn back. But she’d come this far, and this was the rabbit’s house, according to Soldier and Demo.

Taking a deep breath, Pauling reached for the doorknob. The moment her fingers touched it, a strange sensation rippled through her, a shiver that crawled up her spine and made her skin prickle.

Her instincts kicked in just in time. The door burst open and a flash of turquoise painted Pauling’s vision. She threw herself to the ground, out of the way, before kicking herself back to her feet. She adopted a fighting stance, her legs bent and ready to spring. Her fists clenched tightly, guarding her chest while she locked eyes with the figure.

The figure was, in actuality, more of a figurine. A tall, tinted glass and string lay figurine. It stood with its arms wide open, fingers outstretched as if it were about to hug her. The strings that threaded its limbs together shimmered a holographic glow.

“Oops! Thought you were someone else.” It spoke without a face, but a high voice that carried more exuberance than Soldier’s had. It rearranged itself, leaning its head on a fist in a curious pose. “But he'd never run from me like that. Knows it’s pointless. Ha!”

Pauling, still crouched in a defensive stance, glanced to the side. She didn't know why she was confused—she really ought to be used to this by now. A Bostonian drawing toy, why not?

The figurine moved again, leaning its head centimeters away from her face in an instant.

“Huh. You ain't from here,” it stated.

“N-no?” Pauling straightened herself. “You’re the first to notice.”

The figure snapped back, squealing with a sudden and unbridled excitement.

“DOYAHAVEANAME?”

Pauling blinked. “What?”

“A name! You got one? Oh, I feakin’ adore names. My son brought me back a book full of ‘em! I gave each of my sons a name, oh you have to meet them. You know, I wanted to give my spouse one too but he refused, even though there were plenty of good ones I offered. There was René, Gabriel,” It spun it’s hand around to count on its fingers. “Jacques, Jérémie, Alexandre…”

“Um, excuse me,” Pauling tried to interrupt. “Excuse me?”

“…Lucien, John, Phillipe, Napoleon, Alfonse, Emile—”

”EXCUSE ME.”

The figurine stopped cold. It stood in the abrupt silence, looking at her with its blank face. The air around them felt tight and insulted like drums were beating beneath Pauling’s skin.

Pauling cleared her throat, rethinking her next words. “Do… do you have a name?”

“Oh, Collie!” The figurine—Collie—exclaimed, reanimating into its usual exaggerated self, one hand on its hip while the other waved in the air. Despite its lack of facial expressions, its energy was what Pauling could only describe as beaming. “But I'm also called the Hound.”

“Hound? But…” Pauling stopped herself. She did not want to re-enter whatever situation they just existed.

“Butts are for poopin’. Finish your sentence!”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

“You won’t.” Collie crossed its heart with long strides. “Promise.”

“Okay. It’s just that… you don't… look like a dog?”

Collie bent its neck, cocking its head further to the side than any human could. “Why would I?”

“Well, there've been a lot of animal people around here. Like—oh, that reminds me! I was told the rabbit boy lives around here, the Scout. Do you know—”

Pauling was again stopped in the middle of her sentence by a gasp.

“I do know you! You’re the one my little Jeremy is always talking about!” Collie leaned in with a jarring speed and wrapped its hands around Pauling’s, giving them a tight squeeze. Its fingers were so cold, Pauling almost didn't hear what it said next. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet his Orth Girl friend.”

“Orth? Wait, what? Girlfriend? WHAT?”

Collie spun its torso around and began tugging Pauling inside the house. “Come on in! Have dinner with us. Jeremy’s told us all about you, but it’ll be good for the boys to meet you in person.”

Pauling tried to pull her hand away, but Collie’s grip was like shackles. “No, no, no,” she quickly corrected. “You don't understand, I’m not…”

The hallway she was dragged into stole all words from her mouth. It was kaleidoscopic, erratic, and eclectic, stretching out in an array of doors and stairs and corners and colors that seemed to shift with every step they took.

Rooms seemed to slide past her as if on a conveyor belt. A wave of dizziness overtook her as she tried to comprehend the content behind each doorframe; an endless file room with paper towers that teetered to the ceiling, a padded and bloodied arena, the velvety inside of a strange vehicle, a lurid pastel-painted room splattered with dental decor, the top of a circus trapeze set, a cluttered bedroom swirling with thick inky patterns, a room so full of strange oddments she couldn't see the end of it.

Pauling’s head swam as the bizarre environment overwhelmed her senses. Each door they passed seemed to lead to a different reality entirely, and she could only catch fleeting glimpses of the rooms inside before they vanished behind them. The house felt less like a structure and more like a living, shifting organism—a creature with countless appendages, constantly rearranging itself. The whole… being… felt eerily similar to the way Collie itself existed.

Pauling swallowed back the nausea. What was she doing? She was trying to object to something, wasn’t she? Dinner? Why would she object to that? Girlfriend? Girlfriend. Oh dear.

Pauling's thoughts stuttered to a halt as they passed through another doorframe, light and wooden, which fell open inwards without so much as a touch from Collie. The room beyond seemed more grounded, though that word was relative now. It was a dining room. The walls were striped with odd reflective surfaces, patterns of checks and swirls, and the walls were adorned with chandelier birefringence that spun lazily in different directions. The room itself held a long table with 9 mismatched chairs, some plush enough to sleep on, others too rough to even consider sitting on, as if pulled from a modern art set. In every chair but the heads sat a different… thing.

“Boys,” Collie proudly announced, dragging Pauling in front of her. “This is Jeremy’s friend! The Girl from Orth!”

“Holy shit, they’re real,” a tired-sounding jagged line muttered.

“Eddie, of course she’s real,” a glassy-eyed tangle of nerves scolded. “Jeremy has lots of friends.”

“His coworkers don't count as his friends,”  Eddie retorted. “They kill him daily.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Girl, my name’s James.” A figurine—strikingly similar to Collie aside from the comet flowing inside his plastic casing—offered its hand. “That’s Kenny,” he gestured to the nerves, “Eddie, Mary, Sean, Sam, and Josh.” His hand went down the table, covering every seat.

Each of them nodded or waved in turn, though not all of them had faces to express much more. Eddie, Mary, and Sean seemed to be triplets—or close enough, anyway. All three were humanoid shapes made of one continuous line; Eddie of iridescent triangles, Mary of brilliant circles, and Sean of dull squares. Sam was constructed out of bits of old, broken-down machinery, altogether an art-like amalgamation like a human being, while Josh was a thorny, smirking rose of a man.

The table sat in silence for a moment, everyone’s attention glued expectantly on Pauling.

“Well?” Josh asked. “What about you? You got a name or what?”

“Ms. Pauling,” Pauling replied on reflex. “A-and there’s a misunderstanding, I’m not the rabbit’s—Scout’s— Jeremy’s girlfriend.“

Another silence, which Pauling wanted to call awkward but wasn't sure she could, overtook the room.

“No, you are, dear,” Collie whispered into ear. “You are.”

“I’m not surprised he lied about having a friend,” Josh snorted.

“Oh, he didn't lie,” Collie insisted. “He told me about meeting her earlier today! Stopped by on his way to the King.”

Something clicked in Pauling’s mind; the Engineer, the Scout, the Soldier, the Demoman, the Hound, the King… the Girl.

“You mean I'm his friend, the Girl,” she said slowly. “His Girl Friend.”

“Yes, exactly,” Collie chirped.

“What else could we have meant?” Kenny added, his jittery “fingers” tapping on the edge of his plate.

“There are lots of girls where I come from. It’s just something you are, not what you do,” Pauling explained.

“Neat,” Sam finally spoke up, and seemingly finished.

Pauling shifted on her feet It was clear they didn’t quite understand her, just as she didn’t understand them. She needed to reset the conversation.

“Listen,” she said, her voice firm, “I don’t know what Scout told you, but I’m not here for any of this. I hate to out him like this but we aren't… really what I'd call… friends. We met once. I came looking for him because—well, I don't know why. I set out to find him and I want to finish the job. You’re his family, you know how to catch him, right?”

The rest of the table burst into snickers.

Pauling sighed, feeling more than a little worn down at this point. “Is that a no?” Back to square one.

“No, we know how,” James, the only composed one, assured her.

Kenny curled his teeth into a smile, all the while keeping his eyes locked with Pauling’s. “We’re the only ones who know how to catch him.”

“Or we could just tell you where he’s going,” Sean cut in. “Which would be the King’s."

“Sorry, who is the King?”

“Oh, you know, he's the King,” Collie said. “The Grey King? The King used to be someone else, but he lost his title and started using a name like they have on Orth.”

Sean nodded. “Point is, he’ll stop for you. He’s always talking about Girl. He loves you. Or them, I guess. Isn't it confusing with so many of you? Don't you hate it?”

“Never. I love having so many girls in my world,” Pauling blurted out. She tried not to let her face turn red. ”So, how do I get to the King?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Collie answered. “Just meet the rest of the team. Soon as you do that, the King will meet with you.”

“The team?”

“Right! I can give you a list.”

Pauling waited politely as Collie walked around her to the table, effortlessly tearing off a piece of the woven, worn and stained tablecloth. Collie scribbled on the cloth with her fingers, handing it to Pauling with an excited flourish. Pauling stared at the piece, perplexed. The makeshift "list" was covered in scrawled symbols and doodles that resembled more of a child’s attempt at a treasure map than anything remotely useful. She squinted at the strange shapes that most resembled each other—nine grey inside circles—and tried to make sense of it.

Collie beamed. "That's everyone you need to meet before the King shows up! Simple enough, right?"

Pauling tilted her head, still unsure how to proceed. "And these are… names?" she asked, pointing at the squiggles.

"Not exactly names," Collie said. "More like representations. You’ll know ‘em when you see them. It’s the fastest way to get the King’s attention. You’ve already met Jeremy or Scout,” it pointed to a winged shoe, “And you probably met the Engineer on your way in.”

“I’ve also met the Demoman and Soldier. Who do I need to see next?”

Collie shrugged its shoulders in a wide, exaggerated motion. “Oh, I wouldn’t know. Honestly, I don’t know much about the team outside of my spouse and son. And that they’re all top dogs for the King, of course.”

“Right, of course,” Pauling said as if that were obvious to her too. “Who’s your spouse? Can they tell me how to get to everyone else?”

Collie put a finger to its head, fidgeting. “Oh, maybe!”

“Unlikely,” Kenny said at the same time.

“He might,” Collie insisted. “If she tells him I sent her.”

“But he’ll be a prick about it,” Kenny mumbled.

“Look, this has been great,” Pauling interrupted, feeling the growing headache from trying to make sense of everything, “but I really need to find Scout fast. I’ve been on break for too long already. If your spouse can help, I’ll take my chances.”

“He doesn’t stay in one place for very long unless he needs to. Under normal circumstances, I’m the only one who could find him for you but, considering the time, he should be stopping by the gazebo soon. We meet for dinner in about an hour.”

”You want me to intercept your date with your spouse? ”

Collie waved her hand “Oh, don’t be silly, we’re not dating. We broke up ages ago.”

Pauling blue screened. “But you called him your spouse.”

Collie tilted her head again. “Of course. Why would I stop that just because we separated?”

“I—you know what?” Pauling put her hands up. “It’s none of my business. I’m very happy for you. Now,” she turned, nausea instantly overtaking her as she stared back into the shifting hall. “Could you show me the way out?”

A few moments later, Pauling was standing inches from the string-grass front yard of Collie’s house with the entire family crowded behind her.

The air around the house felt dense, almost buzzing with the strange energy that seemed to leak from every surface. The stringy grass rustled faintly, as though each blade was plucked by invisible fingers. Pauling hesitated, feeling all the eyes of the family boring into her back.

“Go on,” Collie chirped from behind. “Just head down that red path! The gazebo is right next to the pond. It’s a long walk, but you look like a healthy kid.”

“What red—oh.” Sure enough, an ornate red path stretched out from the doorway, something Pauling was certain hadn’t been there before. It seemed to pulse lightly, inviting her to follow, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she stopped just at the threshold.

She turned around, glancing at Collie and the others with a raised brow. “I’m curious, how do you catch the Scout?”

“Easy. You have Ma give him a call,” James laughed. “He’ll always come running. It just takes a while when he’s working.”

“Oh, that’s…” Pauling shrugged. “I guess that makes more sense than anything else about you guys. It was… nice? Sure, nice to meet you.”

As Pauling made her way past the threshold of the house, through the ill-fitted doorframe, and down the fancy, dull-colored road, she heard one of the brothers exclaim, “She didn’t even eat anything!”