Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Takei strode from the belly of the Orbiter, the clank of boots on gangplank turning to the soft crunch of grass and dirt as he made way for the verdant greenery of the little base camp on Earth's soil. He reached inside one of the pockets of his suit, pulling out a tin of cigarettes. They were the only luxury item he had in this place. Everything else that had come with him from the dimensional hop was the absolute barest necessities; the clothes on his back, weapons, medboosters, and a paltry handful of shitty rations.

He selected a cigarette then closed and pocketed the tin. Squinting with concentration, he summoned forth his strange new powers to the tip of his index finger. Licks of flame puffed around it, orange-red laced with little slivers of Void-blue. The sensation was cold, yet also warm; something like diet frostbite, if he had to put a name to it. They sputtered, but did not dissipate as he carefully touched the end of the cigarette to them. Takei held his breath, watching the unstable tongues nip at the rolled paper. For several seconds, nothing. His brows drew down further, thoughts focused solely on making the fire obey his will. The wink of an ember caught his attention. More followed rapidly, then all at once the entire end was smouldering, wispy grey fingers curling from it.

Nice. His little experiment had paid off.

Smirking, he allowed the flame at his fingers to sputter to nothing. Miraculously, the cigarette continued to smoulder. Faint coldness filled his mouth and chest, reminiscent of menthol, when he inhaled, but it was otherwise the same routine experience. If he kept honing this, he'd never be wanting for a lighter in future.

Blowing out smoke, Takei shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged further through the clearing. Bugs droned around his ears, only barely audible over the thundering rush of a waterfall. He had no clear destination. He simply needed space and time to think about his situation. The situation being him. Not him him. But the surly brat who, aside from the shock of white hair, looked just as he had on the day of the botched Void jump incident... Void knew how long ago now. His stint in Duviri had messed with his perception of the passage of time.

He really thought he'd be able to connect with his younger alternate. In terms of preference — solitude over company, favouring savoury over sweet, colours of their clothing, and the like — they could, of course; they were the same person at their core. But they couldn't connect where it mattered: memories of their past. Because it turned out that Mini-Him had none. The kid was tight-lipped on the matter of the whys, but gradually opening up little slivers as the days dragged to weeks. That was fine. Looking back on his teenage years, he had fully expected to be met with this stunning lack of communication. Although the fact that even Mini-Rayne, chatterbox that she was, seemed reluctant to divulge anything was a bit of a surprise. That could be for the sake of Mini-Him's privacy, and he respected that. It could also be that the pair were simply wary of him and his wife. He couldn't begrudge them for that honestly; it was smart to be cautious of doppelgängers — even ones that had helped saved their asses — but even still... self-estrangement... what a concept.

Shaking his head, Takei huffed out a billowing cloud of noxious nicotine-laced air. He flicked ash at a nearby rock, watching the orange and blue within the soot pop then fade.

Chapter Text

When presented with massive fat floof done in the deformed likeness of a rogue condroc, K''s brows drew down into a scowl. He shoved a hand against its face, dragging it down and to the side so he could glare into Red's strange pink eyes rather than the shiny buttons of the stuffed toy.

"Did you seriously waste your credits on this? It's literally not any different from the shit Teasonai usually sells for tags."

Pouting, Red pulled the floof to her chest. She rested her chin on the soft sewn head, lower lip jutting out mulishly. She really thought she had plied him with enough meaty treats to subdue his ornary tendencies. Alas, it seemed even Ostron festivities couldn't get this grump to lighten up.

"It's bigger," she defended. She was rewarded with a spectacular eye roll.

"That's the only reason you want it?"

"Well I was also planning to give it to you, so..."

K''s nose screwed up. His lip began to curl too, adding to his overall disgruntledness. Red's heart sank even before he spoke. "I don't want it."

"But you liked that kubrodon floof I got you back on Venus. So I thought—"

"The only reason I took that one was because you were so damn insistent on celebrating that mutt's capture," he interjected. "I did it to shut you up, but I'm not caving this time. It's just a waste of space."

Red bit down on her lip, gaze straying away meekly. She wished he would be a little gentler with his rejections. Especially when it came to frivolous little things like this. They were only offered to him with the purest of intent; the hope that they might cheer him up and make his little living nook in the Orbiter less... barren. The utility — the distinct lack of personal effects — in his room was always so depressing to look at. Yes, it at least looked lived in with the table cluttered with scattered blueprints and weapon components, clothes piles in the far corner, and the lone plant on the shelf nestled amongst a small handful of books and the earlier-bemoaned kubrodon floof. But that aside, there was little else in there that had any sort of personality or charm. She had hoped he'd flourish and be more happy now that he was a few months into regaining freedom and cognizance. Instead, frustratingly, he remained closed off and surly. In fact, it often seemed as though he actively shied away from any attempts to be more human than the weapon he'd been raised as. She was determined to crack that shell, help him heal, and become an even closer friend with him. But goodness did he make it the most awful uphill battle to endure. Sometimes she contemplated giving up, if only because her attempts clearly irritated him to no end. But she was just as stubborn. There would be no yielding until either she finally got closer to him, or...

Her nails dug into the condroc floof.

No. She didn't want to entertain the possibility of him leaving. Even if he had all the charm of a kicked and utterly feral kubrow, Red enjoyed his company. Furthermore, she didn't think she could bear having nobody but Ordis and her Nova for company again.

"You're such a party pooper," she finally mumbled. Then, in a louder huff: "Fine. I'll keep it for myself then."

It would make a marvellous addition to her collection; a giant guardian for her veritable army of toy animals. It would also be very satisfying to cuddle whenever she went to sleep. The thought alone brought back a sliver of her earlier smile and cheer.

"Good. But if I find it in my room later, I'm burning it."

Red protectively squashed the floof harder against her chest. "Nooooo!! Pookie's too cute to burn!"

"Ugh. Seriously? Why the hell did you name the damn floof..." When Red opened her mouth to respond, he held up a hand. "That was rhetorical. I don't care, and I'm going back to the ship. It's too damn noisy here."

So saying, K' shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked away before she could get another word in edgewise. As was usual for him.

Red didn't make any attempt to stop him; there was no point to that. He'd just get snappy at her and make things strained and miserable in the ship for the next few hours. Even if she would have loved company on this little outing, she knew by now that it was best to leave him alone. All she could do was sigh dejectedly as she tracked his progress to the docks, brushing rudely past the bustling crowds of Ostron, or simply cloaking himself with Void energy and stalking through them like a ghost when they were too densely packed together. Naturally, the sight of a person vanishing into thin air and the foreign sensation of heat-cold passing through them sent those people into a startled clamour.

Red shook her head at the raised voices and confused gesturing, turning on her heel and striding deeper into the heart of the festival. Her grip on the giant floof relaxed to less crushing levels, but she still kept it close to her chest. Well, since he hadn't wanted Pookie, maybe she could at least bring back some of the richly spiced meats, smokey jerkies, or crispy meat chips she had seen at some of the stalls. Meat and spice were two of the few things her grouchy companion actually seemed to enjoy, and thusly a failsafe way to put him in a better mood.

Chapter Text

The Tenno were champions of the people, fighting for the safety and independence of the downtrodden. Red likened what they did to figures of old; to tales so ancient that the passage of time had eroded them near completely. She saw herself and her fellows as wandering knights. They rode faithful mechanical steeds that charged through the stars, taking them to their battles. And it was from the bellies of those steeds that the Tenno would leap, biometal armour and weapons gleaming with majesty, to engage the enemy. It was a romantic image, and one that made her proud of what she did under the Lotus' guidance.

Except the people she championed for did not greet her with smiles and adoration after her victories, as they had for the knights of old.

Her efforts were instead rewarded with business-curt thanks and wariness. Payment for her services handed out quickly and with minimal thoroughfare. Mothers dragging children behind their skirts when she passed by. Vendors' smiles strained, their hands wringing and eyes darting at every gesture she made until their business was finally concluded. Groups keeping their distance and muttering to each other, tones hushed, but some words just audible enough to drive pained little needles into her heart.

Scary. Dangerous. Monster.

It was disheartening. Yes, she wielded incredible power. Yes, she cut down Grineer and Corpus with ease. But it was never with any relish. She was a pacifist at heart, doing the things she did out of necessity; a need preserve her life and the lives of the innocent. Never once was there an ulterior motive behind her actions either. Kindness was all she extended and it was all that she desired from others. Yet here these people were, misjudging her character simply because she was an anomaly.

Ingrates. All of them. I'll give them something to fear.

Red's head jerked up from its melancholy bow. Her eyes darted around her room, confused and apprehensive. It was empty of company. Just her and the pobber floof she'd been hugging for comfort. Had that been... a thought from her own head? That couldn't be right... Even if being given a wide berth by other people hurt her, she would never entertain violence against them in retaliation. Something didn't feel right. Her skull itched. It felt like there were eyes glaring at her, beady and hateful.

Shaken, she rose from her bed, floof still clutched to her chest. Her bare feet went from squishing against thin carpet to slapping against cold metal as she transitioned from her room out into the halls, beelining for the cockpit. The prospect of being alone right now made panic claw at her chest and squeeze her throat. Something was wrong, and if she remained on her own, she felt it may worsen.

"Um, Ordis? Could you keep me company for a while. I don't... I feel scared."

Chapter Text

Rayne made a face at her reflection. Her hair really was not co-operating today. The lengthy crimson tresses kept sliding between her fingers, refusing to stay together so she could tie it all up. She puffed out a frustrated breath, ruffling the ends of her fringe. Having two fingers of her dominant hand bandaged and splinted together was making this entire process more of a painful ordeal than it needed to be. Damn Veilhead...

"Want a hand with that?"

Her eyes met Takei's through the mirror. He was leaned against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, already dressed for today's operation. Sans all the headgear, which left his wayward hair and scruffy, scarred face on display. A brow cocked as he continued to observe her struggles. Relief relaxed her features. "Yeah, please."

He pushed away from the doorway, coming up behind her seat. As he approached he brought a hand to his mouth, pulling off a glove with his teeth. The other he pulled off with his now bare hand. Both gloves were then crammed into a pocket, out of the way, to take the hair tie Rayne was holding out in offering. This, he slipped over his wrist before getting straight to work. Calloused hands combed through her hair, occasionally dragging across her scalp, gathering and neatening it. She closed her eyes and smiled at the treatment, a contented hum leaving her throat. 

With their lifestyle always being so tumultuous, she relished these small moments with all her heart. She'd be lying if she said she didn't somewhat enjoy the adrenaline-laced thrill of combat, but she would always prefer times like these where they could just be. Even if there was a galaxy-wide cult takeover going on in this parallel timeline.

There was light tugging at the roots of her hair, prompting her eyes to flick back open. Takei paused. He had all her hair gathered in one hand, ready for the tie now stretched between two fingers of the other. His eyes locked onto those of her reflection.

"Too hard?"

"Not at all." She smiled.

He hummed, dexterous fingers quickly working scarlet tresses into first a ponytail, then twining it into a tight bun. "You wouldn't have trouble shoving all this in your hood if you just chopped it off, y'know."

Ah, this conversation topic again. She rolled her eyes playfully. "Right. But then it wouldn't be as satisfying to pull on, now would it?"

Takei's lips twitched upwards, forming the barest hint of a crooked smirk. "Touché."

"Besides," Rayne stood, pacing around him to grab her headgear off their bed. She tugged her mask on, then her hood. "You don't get to tell me what to do with my hair when your face is a briar patch."

"I thought you liked the stubble."

"Yes and no. I don't appreciate the rashes."

"Fair," he conceeded, tugging his gloves from his pocket.

"It also makes you look a little like a hobo." A glove was tossed at her face, the leather slapping lightly against her cheek before falling to the ground. She laughed. "It's true! I like the rugged look, but sometimes it doesn't look entirely flattering."

Chapter Text

The Ventkids were thinly tolerated little nuisances. By rights they should have been attracted to Red and her obnoxiously friendly charms. And they were... to a point. It seems this was one case of her natural charm only getting her so far, because the brats cared more about K'. Specifically, his skill with both k-drives and mechanical tinkering. Skills Red lacked. Direly. She couldn't even stay stationary on a board without wobbling. And if it moved? She pinwheeled her arms, squealing in distress, and would topple off in an ungainly sprawl of limbs. It was, in a word, pathetic. And he had to resist the urge to drag his palms down his face every single time it happened.

The pair had been invited into the ventkids' little "clubhouse" after their latest failed attempt at teaching Red how to use a k-drive. She was in surprisingly good spirits despite the slowly darkening bruises, both seen and unseen, all over her body from her many falls. And K''s constant blunt critiques and harsh commentary. Perhaps it was the promise of the show they were going to watch together that was keeping her spirits high. His companion was all about friendship and human interaction, after all. The slightest sign of either being offered (or she thought it was being offered), and she became a bouncy, bubbly bundle of joy trying to eke out even more.

... Ugh.

Time couldn't pass fast enough, he lamented. Not that he had anything better to do, really. But being sandwiched between Red and a gaggle of noisy, wriggly kids on a battered, too small couch wasn't exactly his idea of fun. He shoved one of the urchins' legs off of him with a growl and a scowl. He received a raspberry from the kid, which went ignored. They could sprawl on top of each other all they liked, but he was not going to be a footrest, thanks very much.

Red glanced over at him nervously, likely expecting him to snap and bail out. He was considering it... but ultimately just puffed out an irritated breath and slouched deeper into the couch. He didn't feel like moving now that he was here. If he got too bored of whatever dross they were putting on, he figured he could always just nap through it.

The screen bloomed to life and the show started playing. And he instead sat up straighter, brows furrowing. The characters were bright eyesores. Their voices were too perky, some of them high-pitched enough to make him want to grind his teeth. And their eyes... Their eyes were the weirdest part. Weirdly large and glittering with little sparkles and the occasional heart.

His gaze skewed to the side, noting Red leaning forward. Her hands were on her cheeks, attention totally rapt. And her pink eyes with the abnormal heart-shaped pupils trained on the screen, positively glittering with excitement. It was then he had an epiphany.

They looked just like her.

"..... She's a fucking mutant," he mumbled unconsciously.

"Say wha?" The kid that had used him as a footrest earlier craned their head towards him, spitting crumbs of the junky snack food that was being passed around.

K' shook his head, waving them off before going back to watching with fascinated horror at the abominable animated expys of Red and their ditzy shenanigans. Geez, the resemblence in mannerisms was uncanny too... It was almost like she'd crawled straight out from this show. What straight up nightmare fuel.

Chapter Text

The Man In The Wall rapped their knuckles against the table, slow and deliberate. 

No response. 

Gradually, they picked up tempo and harshness until Red startled and finally took note of their presence. It was then that they smiled with her face, wide and uncanny. It was an expression that was not returned. After a few more seconds they dropped the grin, head instead cocking when they receieved no greeting. The girl herself looked more haggered than last they'd met. Her hair was a mussed mane and her face and eyes were puffy with recently shed tears.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" 

Even when filled with trepidation, she usually received them with some semblance of pep, cheer, or general friendliness. A strange Tenno, to be sure. But her abnormality made her one of the more interesting ones to grace with their presence. The Lidless Indifference regarded her with the same fascination children show for bugs. And so they liked to poke and observe her a little more frequently then the others, just to see what strange and amusing things she'd do next.

Rather than answer, the girl lunged across the table, hands desperately trying to grasp theirs. Her corporeal form simply passed through the image of them like smoke. She keened at that, hands curling to fists. 

"Can't catch what isn't in your plane of existence," they informed her, amused. Still, she did not share their merriment.

"You," she hicccuped. Her pink eyes glistened with fresh tears. They dribbled down her cheeks, streaking little tracks across her skin. She tended to be almost as free with expressing those as she did her happiness. "You've seen K', right? Is he okay? Please, please, please tell me he's okay! I don't... I can't deal with another death right now!"

Death? They tilted their head further. Casually as you please, they skimmed fingers through her mind, gleaning information on all the latest happenings in her tiny mortal life. The disappearance of the guiding matron figure mimicking the face of a woman long dead was the beginning of her downward mental spiral. The constantly dour white-haired boy finally leaving her to embark on a trip of self-discovery was not new knowledge; they had been the one to push him out of indecision and to pursue that course, after all. But on the heels of her continued search for the sentient mimic, something else had happened. The artificial copy of the white-haired boy... he'd become twisted with the living disease. And she'd granted him the mercy of a bullet in the skull before he lost himself completely, crushing her already fragile emotions in the process.

Ah yes, they thought they'd felt a minuscule shift in their vast, limitless energy; of a sliver returning home to the endless ocean. That must have been it. The false Tenno, birthed by Orokin hubris, was not one they had taken much note of. He had been an anomaly — initially interesting for the fact he even managed to exist where countless others like him had died, powerless, before even being decanted from their tubes — but his powers were too weak, and he himself too boring to play around with. The Wall did not mourn for the loss of him. Nor did they celebrate it. The only reason they had even deigned to peer in on his happenings was to keep a curious eye on the scheming Orokin that had created him. Igniz was his name. Rather pompous fellow with a sky high ego. Another self-proclaimed "Golden Lord" meddling with things they shouldn't. Typical enough. Just another shiny insect flaring his wings and droning for attention, just like the rest.

"Well?!" Red's voice had taken a slightly shrill note. Since she hadn't been able to grab The Wall, she instead wrung her hands together anxiously.

Oh, right. They were supposed to say something to her. Oopsie.

"I had to help him, but he's alive."

Conveniently, they omitted that they had preyed on K''s panic. The boy and his railjack crew had recently had a close brush with death; overwhelmed by floods of enemies and the fires they'd started, all while in the midst of a Void storm. The Man In The Wall had generously offered to take the wheel of his body to drive off the invaders and make sure the crew lived through the ordeal. They thought they'd done a good job of it. The boy was a powerful Tenno, and the Void spilling through all the rifts aboard the vessel had been rich and wild with power to channel through him. With their will and his body, their combined power had been a harmony of destruction...

Until that Red Veil pup had slammed his gun into the back of K''s skull, rendering him unconscious, and thus forcing The Wall to cease puppeteering him. It had been a shame to have to cut their fun short, but ah well. There would always be a next time. If not with K', then with some other Tenno. Perhaps the one in front of him if her emotional and mental stability kept crumbling.

Red, as always, was an open book. Relief washed away all the stress lines carved into her face. "Ohhh. Oh thank goodness!"

"Thank goodness for what?"

Red and The Wall glanced at the new arrival. It was... another being the spitting image of Red, face twisted into a small frown. Except she looked better-kempt than the real one. Furthermore, she still wore the suit from when The Wall had made their deal with her; not the quirky kneesocks and assortment of pastel colours she donned in the present.

"Oh! Hey!" Red swiped at her face, smearing away tears and snot. A hint of a smile crept back onto her face at the sight of this new doppelgänger. "Wally just told me K' is okay."

"Mmhmm. Good for him." The new arrival's response was distracted, gaze remaining locked with The Man In The Wall's. Her frown only deepened. "And who is this? I thought I was the only friend you needed."

"Erm... I'm not really sure Wally is my friend... They're a little aloof and hard to get a read on."

"Is that so?"

The copy squinted at them mistrustfully. The Wall smiled back, stretching the mask moulded into Red's face uncomfortably, improbably, wide. They prodded curious fingers inside the girl's mind again, sifting around for the origin of this strange twin. When they found it, they raised their brows, watching the doppelgänger with renewed curiosity. How interesting... It turned out that the festering little blob lurking in the darkest corners of Red's mind — a mere mass of negative emotions and memories centred around a terrible, but pivotal, past event — had evolved; given itself a shape and voice.

The other apparition's face twisted into a dark scowl. All friendly pretense was gone, her voice a low growl when she demanded: "Get out."

The Wall laughed, the sound laced with deep reverb. "Don't be hostile, neighbour. I'm sure we can all play together nicely inside her head. The more the merrier, right kiddo?"

Chapter Text

Five. That was how many kaithe-related deaths one or both of them had suffered in this colourless nightmare thus far.

The first death had been Rayne's. It had been during their initial escape attempt from their shared execution. The sound of her slamming the flat of her palm into the nose of one of three Dax guards had spooked the beast one of the men had been petting. A shrill mechanical whinny had been the precursor to a hoof smashing into her forehead. She'd never even heard Takei's anguished scream, her world already dark and soundless. She had collapsed like a ton of rocks, eyes rolling, with splintered skull fragments piercing her brain and the taste of blood clogging her nose and throat.

The second death belonged to Takei. This escape attempt, they'd taken out all three guards with no issue. They had been swift, clean, takedowns, yet the kaithe kept snorting and stomping with agitation. He'd cursed, moving as slowly and carefully as he could, given how critical time had been, to make a grab for the creature. Not slowly or carefully enough by far, evidently. The equine had shrilled, spinning away from his hands to present its hind. Too late, he'd tried bringing his arms up in an effort to protect himself. The crack of his ribs was deafening, the force of the kick sending him flying back hard enough to hit the wall by Rayne. Two loose ribs had speared a lung. Another one swung around nauseatingly in his chest. The situation had been helpless. Rayne's tears saw him off as he gargled on his own blood, Dax soldiers hemming them in from all sides.

The third time was when they tried to leap the broken bridge. Rayne clung to her husband while he clapped his boots against the kaithe's sides, urging it to pick up more and more speed. A well-timed projectile from one of the pursuing Dax hit the beast's flank right as it was tensing to make the jump. What should have been a clean escape ended in a mechanical squeal, a stumble, and it plunging into the abyss. Its passengers gripped each other in a fierce embrace, faces buried in each other's necks, as solid ground and jagged rock rushed up to meet them.

The fourth time, a mounted Dax soldier charged at Rayne head-on. Though its horn was blunt, the momentum of its charge ensured it pierced right through her flesh and muscle. Her guts and blood sprayed out like macabre confetti as the beast proceeded to lift its head and shake her around. She couldnt stop screaming. Another slow death. But a messier one.

The fifth and final death had involved Takei attempting to teach Rayne how to ride the kaithe they'd liberated. There would be situations where they'd be separated, so she really ought to learn how to balance and steer the creature. She'd agreed, begrudgingly, and watched him mount it. He rode the creature with the same ease he drove ships, hoverskiffs, and just about any other vehicle he got his hands on. He cantered it around the small clearing they were camped in, calling out tips for her to take note of. The effortless grace of the entire display made her jealous. 

It was when he was showing her how to maintain balance during jumps that something went wrong.

One moment, the kaithe was perfectly fine and under his control. The next, it landed too harshly after leaping a fallen tree, jostling Takei enough to knock him off. He fell off its side with a startled yell, in turn startling the kaithe. The fabric of his pants got caught by the calf in one of the jagged holes in its side. The beast shrilled, picking up speed from a canter to a panicked gallop, dragging him along behind it. Rayne screamed, racing after the kaithe in an attempt to halt and calm it as it blitzed around the clearing. All the while poor Takei's body kept bumping and jostling against the terrain. He raised his arms, doing his best to protect his head as the kaithe abruptly changed course, ceasing its frantic circling to leave the clearing in a thundering rush of hooves. The path became more and more uneven with hazardous objects littering the terrain; massive gnarled roots, more logs, and rocks of varying sizes. 

Naturally, Rayne quickly lost sight of it. For all her fitness, she was only human; too slow and frail to keep pace with a giant mechanical beast in terms of both speed and endurance. But the way was clear. Fresh hoofprints and the occasional blood spatter made up the breadcrumb trail leading towards the equine and her trapped husband. 

At the end was the kaithe; finally calm. Takei was limp, covered in dirt and an assortment of little twigs poking from his hair. His neck was wrenched at an impossible angle. What she could see of his face was a bloodied mess; skin scraped clean off in several patches. Whether it was the head trauma or the broken neck that took him, Rayne didn't know. And frankly, she didn't care either. The end result was the same. He was gone. She didn't have enough breath in her lungs left to scream, instead falling to her knees and keening thinly.

Chapter Text

The last of the NESTS' operatives' heads crunched under Krizalid's bootheel. Blood, fragments of skull, and viscera burst upon impact. The gore splattered up his leg and against the ship floor. For a long minute he didn't move, body heaving as he sucked in air. Just letting the adrenaline fade and the sweat on his body cool. 

Until another round of coughing ravaged his body. 

The world spun and undulated as he staggered towards the nearest wall, hacking and choking wetly. He had a palm clapped around his mouth, but even still, stinking fluid sluiced between his teeth and dribbled through his fingers. It was thick and pus yellow, flecked with blood. And by the Void did it stink of rot.

When the last of the coughs passed, he was utterly spent, knees weak. Every breath felt like an effort; liquid amd phlegm still sitting stubbornly in the deepest parts of his lungs. All the while the weeks old injection site — now scabbed over with a large patch of chitinous flesh which crept across more of his skin like a rash every day — itched mockingly. It was a constant reminder of the betrayal from the organisation he had dutifully served from the moment he'd been decanted from a tube. And a parting "gift" from the Golden Lord that ran it all. A monument to Krizalid's failure that he would have to stew on until the Infestation ravaged his body and mind.

He was sick beyond repair and running out of time. The sands of his life and sanity continued to trickle away every minute. Eventually, he would become a twisted, shambling husk. Just like every other victim of the Infestation. It wasn't fair. And that was why he was lashing out. 

It was a futile effort to cut through NESTS' forces like this; he knew firsthand how far their influence spread, hidden roots buried everywhere across the system, moles seeded through all the factions, their eyes and ears in every conceivable corner. Even still, he refused to go down without a fight. With each merciless tick tock on the clock counting down his dwindling life, he was going to carve his existence into NESTS' ranks. This, he swore. The scorned clone of K' was going to go down in a glorious fire, and raze NESTS to ashes with him.

Squaring his jaw, Krizalid wobbled upright. Stubbornly pushing down his fatigue and doing his best to soldier through vertigo, he took slow, staggering steps towards the ship's bridge. It was time to rip another one of those moles of theirs out of the ground and barbecue it.

Chapter Text

Reyna's quarters were unlit, giving off the impression that she had retired to bed for the night. But behind the locked door, the light of the data pad she was pecking away at illuminated her very much awake face. Her brows were knotted and lips twisted with consternation as she typed. Her eyes kept flicking to the upper right corner of the data pad's screen, where her notes were pinned. All that information was the source of her troubles. It wasn't something she could freely share with the other people aboard this ship. Not even with her own kids, both of them asleep in the adjacent room. The gravity of this information would put them all in danger. 

Maxima had already warned her — multiple times, even — that this assignment was dangerous. But she, in all her headstrong foolishness, had boldly taken it on anyway. And now, too late, she had come to realise that it had truly been a mistake of epic proportions. Not only had she trapped herself here, but both her kids, too. Takei may have come to see her as their jailer, but he was off-base. It was that Orokin bastard Tuval swinging the keys to their shared spacebound cage around his finger, not her.

Reyna sighed and tossed the data pad beside her. She pressed a fist to her temple, rubbing her knuckles against the skin. Just thinking of her son was bringing on a fresh headache and accompanying urge to drink herself stupid. Her once sweet little Starburst had become a volatile spitfire entering his teenage years. His starry eyes had dulled, and his blinding adoration for her had sharpened into resentment as he became more aware of the repercussions of their lifestyle and the circumstances of his birth.

Being the son of a notorious space pirate had put him and his sister in peril countless times; while other kids had been nudged towards honing artistic or sporty pursuits, Reyna had instead pressed guns into the tiny hands of her own children and taught them how to shoot, to steal, to fistfight, and how to stop mama and her crew from bleeding out from bullet and blade wounds. Now that he was bigger, he understood how fucked up their situation was. And the revelation from a few years ago that his birth had not been planned — just a one night stand with some pretty man she didn't even remember the face of — had borne a festering grudge. Takei was under the impression his birth was a mistake (which, while true, did not mean it was a bad one) and he loved to rub Reyna's face in it every chance he got. But the latest nail in the coffin, driving a massive wedge between them, was this seemingly out of nowhere decision of hers to ditch her crew and trade in their family's life of space piracy and other rogue activities for this strange and awkward attempt at turning a new leaf by embracing domesticity amongst completely mundane civilians.

He'd hurled a lot of barbs at her the night she dropped that bombshell. Some of them still made her eyes hot and her jaw clench. It was all coming from a place of frustration and lack of knowledge, she knew. But hell if she didn't want to cuff the damn brat upside the head and snarl right back at him for being a stupid little ingrate. It was a mixed blessing he was too narrow-minded — blinded by rage at being ripped away from the only life he'd ever known — to realise she wasn't the real big bad here. His sister, Seirah, seemed to be aware there was more at play, but still hadn't been able to suss out just what it was. Reyna's eldest always was a clever, level-headed girl... perhaps too clever for her own good; it had been even harder to stop her from prying into her affairs. Maybe once they made it safely to Tau she could entertain the idea of airing out all these dirty little Orokin secrets she was working on exposing to the two of them. For now, however, it was all going to Maxima. And the puzzle-locked boxes she kept buried in her closet; her insurance that if things went to shit and she died, her kids may be able to find the information and put a stop to it in her stead. Void willing, she hoped such a situation would never come to pass. She may be a shitty parent, but she still loved and wanted the best for her kids. If push came to shove, she'd find a way to at least get them out of this ship.

Filled with a fresh sense of determination, Reyna picked the data pad back up and resumed her typing.

Chapter Text

Movements wooden, Rayne tugged the medical chest from the shelf. Behind her, seated on their shared bed, Takei didn't move. He'd dutifully removed the upper layers of his suit earlier so she could assess the damage K' had done to his ribs, but after that he'd been a statue; hands on his knees and eyes staring through the patch of floor between his feet. Lamenting on his actions, possibly.

With the medical chest now in her hands, Rayne flicked open the clasps to inspect the contents. Only for her jaw to clench at the distinct lack of opiods inside. Evidently, he had drugged K' prior to his assault. The dosage was obscene; it was as though he had intended to take down some giant beast rather than a younger version of himself. That might have explained how little the boy had fought back.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Rayne plucked out a roll of bandages and a clip. She approached her husband, eyes wary rather than warm. Still, he didn't dare meet her gaze.

"Arms," she instructed, voice thin and exhausted from the earlier tears and screaming.

Takei obeyed, straightening from his slump. Old scars rippled. He flinched faintly as one on his chest was flexed, the beginnings of a roughly fist-shaped bruise developing around it. There was also a fresh, mild, burn around his ribs. It looked like more of a rash, if anything, so she didn't bother puttering back to the medical chest for ointment.

Lips pressed thinly together, Rayne began twining the roll of bandages around Takei's chest. Wrapping him up and tending his wounds was a familiar practice. But it had never held such a strained air before. Then again, their previous heal sessions had always been due to mercenary work and their generally dangerous lifestyle. Never, ever had there been the bizarrely horrifying element of attempted self-murder tainting them. It was something she could still scarcely believe she had witnessed the tail end of. K''s blood had been all over Takei's face and fists, the boy himself limp and rendered unconscious under what had evidently been a long and vicious onslaught of punches to the face. When she'd stumbled in on the scene, the look in her husband's eyes had scared her. It was the same intermingled hollowness and determination she had seen day in, day out, from their time trapped in Duviri. Something about that endless time loop and all the deaths they had suffered to be free of it had broken something in his psyche. But she had genuinely thought that their freedom, and the time they were spending together with their younger alternates had been mending those cracks in his mind. He had started smiling again — genuinely smiling; not just his wry little smirks and half-hearted lip twitches — in the aftermath of killing Ballas and scattering Narmer. He enjoyed K' and Red's company, treating both of them warmly as the months marched on. So what had caused this sudden, violent, change? Rayne just couldn't wrap her head around it.

She stopped mid-wrap, nails digging through her half-finished job, stabbing at the pectoral below. "Kei... why did you do that?"

This close, the handprint shaped bruise on his cheek she'd gifted him earlier already looked to be swelling. His voice was a hollow mumble when he responded: "I told you; I don't want to lose you or our kids."

"Lose them to what?" Rayne snapped. "Your puberty years with a weird dye job?"

"To this fucking paradox situation!" His own voice rose to match hers, anger — his old, safe, friend — rearing its ugly head. "Do you even get how messed up things are right now?"

"Aside from the fact you drugged and try to kill yourself?"

Takei lowered his arms to more natural positions. A finger was then jabbed against Rayne's clavicle. "About both versions of us existing in the same place for extended periods of time, smartass."

"So?" She swatted his hand away, matching his glare.

"Have you even been paying attention? We could barely stick around the minis when we first made contact; one pair of us would get rubber-banded to a different pocket of reality within minutes. Now look at us." Takei threw out his other hand in a vague all-encompassing gesture. A muscle beneath his eye ticked, the sudden movement agitating his bruises and aches. "We can go for days before things get weird and the rubber-banding happens."

"Still failing to see how this relates to your attempted self-murder."

Takei graced her with a spectacular eye roll. His voice became lower and slower with irritation as he explained: "Things are getting unstable with two versions of ourselves existing at once. Which means one version of us has to go."

"That doesn't mean you needed to result to murder as a solution!!" He had always acted brashly and in the heat of the moment, but this method was a new extreme for him. Rayne didn't like it. She wanted to know where the hell this seed had been planted and germinated from. "We just need to calculate another of those jumps."

"The hell do you think I've been trying to do?! Aside from the attempted self-murder you keep shrilling about." His glare was stony. "It was hard to get here, and it's even harder figuring out the route back. If there's even a way back at this point."

"There is," Rayne insisted. But Takei shook his head, lips pressed together into a thin slash.

"The longer we stay here, the more I'm convinced there isn't. Every time I think I've found the right sequence for a jump, it just... slips away; the route ends in absolutely nowhere. It's like it keeps changing."

Rayne pursed her lips. That did indeed sound very concerning. Even still, there were bound to be better solutions out there than killing their alternate selves. "Even if that's true, what makes you think killing those two will help with that?"

"I didn't say it would. But it might make things a bit more stable."

"And where's your proof of that?" Rayne pressed, voice starting to raise. 

"I don't fucking have any," Takei snarled back, his own volume rising to match. "But 'kill or be killed' hasn't failed me yet."

"Your mother drilled that damn motto into your head and lived by it too, but how well did it serve her in the end, huh?"

The moment the words left her mouth, Rayne knew she'd fucked up. She desperately wanted to take them back. But in spite of her hurriedly clamped together lips and panic-widened eyes, the damage was already done. Takei's expression suddenly became closed off; almost eerily dead. Abruptly, he rose to a stand, forcing her to stumble back before his head bashed into her chin on the ascent. He followed her retreat, his stare downright glacial as he glared down his nose at her.

"The only reason my mother is dead and not me is sheer, dumb luck." Takei's voice, pitched low and even, held a faint undercurrent of rage, tempered to ice coldness. It was the sort of tone he took when he was dealing with particularly heinous targets of mercenary jobs, circling their tied up bodies with a set of pliers idly swinging from one palm. For that reason it made Rayne tense and back away further. He followed, eyes laser-focused onto her own, even as she subconsciously ducked her head and hid behind her lashes. "She would've kept choking me out on the floor of our dormizone's kitchen, probably even crushed my throat, if I hadn't blindly groped around, somehow found her pistol, and shot her through the eye. If I hadn't, I'd be the one dead."

Rayne continued to back away until her back bumped against the wall. She licked dry lips, finally daring to catch her husband's gaze again. He was still straddling the line of looking wholly detached, but internally seething with rage. He rarely got like this, but by the Void, it was scary enough to witness from afar, let alone having it actually directed at her. It was like staring a loaded gun in the face, bracing for the bang. At her sides her fists curled, trying to psych herself up to fight back if things escalated to violence.

"And so would you; more than likely torn apart by a pack of Void-crazed assholes as the pathetic, snivelling mess you used to be. Because you were fucking useless on your own."

Despite herself, Rayne flinched. Takei truly had a talent for finding old weaknesses and sore points and weaponising them... She may not be that same scared girl anymore, but it truly was only because of him that she was standing here today, brave and able to fend for herself.

"My mother followed that motto and it kept our family and her crew alive until the jump happened. And I kept the both of us and our kids alive all this time by following it too. So clearly there's some fucking method to the madness."

Chapter Text

The endless expanse of the Void pulsed and whispered, spine-chilling and maddening. Misty fingers drifted, slowly stretching to claw at the blue-green on dark nothingness. Distant cracks of lightning-esque energy roiled in pockets, hissing and cracking faintly; infant storms growing in power to breach into an infinite number of realities beyond the bounds of this endless space. If one ignored the overall unease this place emanated, it seemed almost peaceful. Even the sharp crack of the skin between this plane and one of the many realities briefly splitting did not seem much of a disturbance at all. Not even the foreign object it brought in before sealing once again detracted from the quasi-serenity. While a macabre sight in any of the realms of existence beyond this one, the body drifting through the aether, trailing blood, was simply another element enforcing the strange, vague, sense of peace.

"Oh dear, this is quite the predicament you're in this time, Starburst." 

A large finger, calloused and lacking colour, prodded beneath the body's cheek. Using it to gently lift the face for inspection revealed unseeing blue eyes, lacking a glow, and slightly parted lips that were bloodied at the corners. A second finger on a different hand fingered at the oozing trench in the boy's chest, smearing the blood some. A third hand floated up until the body nestled in the middle of its palm, sitting small and snug like a baby bird. A fourth, substantially smaller hand clad in a Zariman issue space suit brushed aside shaggy white fringe in a manner that was almost tender. Through all this prodding, the usually volatile and touch-adverse K' remained totally unresponsive. 

The Man In The Wall tutted in a way that vaguely simulated sadness, both faces twisting into frowns. Poor little human... not alive, but not quite dead either. But the real kicker was how he got into this state to begin with. His little friend, the red girl... she had done it. Her: the person who had saved him from the limbo of being a mindless experiment. Her: the one who had battered him with nothing but endless displays of kindness and affection in the name of friendship until he, in kind, eventually came to see her as a friend too. That same gentle-hearted girl had turned on him; ran him through with the Sentient Slayer and stood at the side of the conniving Orokin they had both come to confront, smiling as a too-long arm was wrapped around her waist. Except it wasn't her that had done the deed. Not the real her.

That festering little thing inside her mind had finally gained enough power to seize the reins. And poor K' had been none the wiser to it, attributing the girl's increasing moodswings and borderline insane ramblings prior to this confrontation to little more than stress. But The Wall had known of its existence for some time — had watched it evolve from infancy, taking careful toddler steps, to the current predatory loping as the amalgamation of trauma gained a sense of self, as it were. Perhaps They should have intervened... squashed this little bug before its infestation had spread so far throughout poor Rayne's mind. It wasn't as though they lacked the power to do such a thing. But this emergent personality — Narmer, it had decided to call itself, after the very cult Ballas was building — had proven to be a fresh source of amusement. And besides, what was that human saying? Adversity builds character, or something? It was simply fascinating to watch the always bubbly Rayne fall deeper into despair. She was unravelling and burrowing deeper into herself; losing the shining lustre she usually seemed to radiate. The Wall spared a thought to ponder how she might fare at the end of this; for how things may play out. There were infinite possibilities, after all: branching paths that would grow more branches still for every decision made and course of action taken. They hoped for a favourable one coming to pass. Of the girl seizing control of herself once more and dealing with the fallout. Perhaps even coming out stronger from the ordeal. And all that hope lay in the Tenno before Them, stuck in a state somewhere between life and death.

"Well I have my work cut out for me, Starburst. It's going to take some time to fix this fatal stab wound of yours." Casually as you please, the doppelgänger's fingers sifted through the meaty rent in K''s chest, as if it were a lake They were playing with. The horrible squish of blood and flesh permeated the not-air of the Void, quiet but loud. They hummed as They removed Their fingers from the stab wound, rubbing gluey lukewarm blood between gloved fingertips. Then They smiled at K''s corpse-not-corpse. "But that doesn't mean you can slack off either."

One of the giant fingers that had been prodding about the Tenno's body earlier poked his cheek again. K''s head lolled to the side without resistance, eyes still unseeing.

"I'll patch you up and get you back onto the mortal coil. But I need you to do something for me in the meantime." 

The Wall's features shifted, stretching the imitation of K''s face and body in uncomfortable, unsightly and frankly impossible ways. It was getting smaller and wider, cheekbones growing more pronounced and lips fuller, but nose shrinking and softening to something a little more dainty and wider-nostrilled. All the angles that comprised K''s tall, lanky body were disappearing; rounding out into curves and a healthier amount of meat and fat. Hair flaked away, darkening to a brown so deep it was near pitch black, and solidifying into neat, tight cornrows. Except for the fringe. That instead defied gravity, flicking up, thickening, and lengthening. Orange bled through the tips and halfway down the little coif of hair, giving it a passing resemblance to a handful of burning matches. All of this with the fluidity of liquid being sloshed around a container. And by the end of it, the likeness of a woman K' didn't remember was now smiling at and speaking to his body. 

"Because nothing in life is free, kid; everyone has a price. Just like mama taught you."

Around them, three of The Wall's larger hands began to sift about, fingers plucking and weaving with purpose. The currents of the Void shifted, threads splitting under Their will. As did the blood, sinew, and flesh of K''s body still nestled on the fourth. Slowly, the massive stab wound was knitting together, the flesh writhing and pulsing. The healing process was being generously helped along by ribbons of Void being coaxed in by The Wall, stitching it all together, and bathing the bloodied red and pink meat with a radioactive blue-green glow.

The Man In The Wall smiled with Reyna Valeria's face and pulled K''s head onto Their lap. Gloved fingers brushed his messy fringe to the side, fingers then coming to rest on his temples. It may have looked a tender scene, from a time long gone, were it not for Their usual penchant for smiling too wide and having piercing, glowing, eyes devoid of emotion. And the pseudo-dead state of K'.

"I need you to Dream for me while I work, Starburst. There's something important in those broken memories of yours that will be a big help to you. Well... another you, anyhow." 

Navigating the tangled and torn memories inside his skull, The Wall dived deep to pluck at one in particular. It would be so easy to give him back many of these other memories; to let him remember who he was before that Orokin with delusions of godhood snatched him up. But They wouldn't. For this was a matter of business, not pleasure. Those memories were his to stumble around and find on his own time. Assuming he didn't keep shying away from the most painful and important ones, anyhow. This particular memory was in the thick of many of those, but didn't have any of the catalysts of mingled pain and importance within it. Under Their will, it unfurled like a ribbon of old world film, so to speak. The boy was aboard the Zariman, dozing in the middle of class; a time where he was healthier in many respects — without a single thread of white in his hair, and all his sense of self not drugged and brainwashed out of him — but perhaps not necessarily happier. Rayne was in this one too, The Wall knew, but she was "out of frame"; seated two rows back and to the right, fiddling with her hair, warm-cheeked, and watching him anxiously.

"You never did enjoy learning unless it was something hands on and practical... But I need you to pay attention to this lesson, kid. It's important." The Wall leaned over him, body morphing again. The tallness and angles of K' returned, but the body continued to grow with extra muscle mass. Reyna's face melted away, replaced with that of a man with prominent scars and shaggy dark hair and stubble. The face had the exact same angular eyes, thin lips, and long, sharp nose that could only belong to K'. The Lidless Indifference pressed the forehead of Their smaller body against K''s and bared both sets of their teeth into a grin. "Because the only person who can help you is yourself, Takei."