Chapter Text
Macaque knew what he had signed up for when he agreed to go head-to-head with a possessed Sun Wukong, but as his shadow mech was falling to pieces around him he was beginning to have second thoughts. Wukong’s silhouette cut through the dust and smoke like a knife and his paw fisted into Macaque’s collar as the demon ground his teeth. With one decisive motion Macaque was swung around like a flail and launched down into the deck of the bone witch’s mech; his ears ringing and vision clouding over from the impact. In spite of the pain he sensed when Wukong landed beside him but stilled when he realized that someone else had caught the other’s attention.
Wukong had changed targets.
Wukong was heading straight for his successor.
Macaque watched through a clouded haze and waited with baited breath for the kid to do something. Something. Nothing. Whatever he was waiting for never happened. It was when the great sage clenched his fist and prepared to unleash a devastating blow that the demon knew that he was out of time. With what little energy he had left he threw caution to the wind and launched himself forward into a shadow portal; somehow managing to shove the boy out of harms way just in the nick of time as he closed his eyes. Within the resounding silence there was a sickening crunch followed the sound of a limp body hitting the floor.
When MK turns around he’s faced with a scene that would later return to him in his nightmares.
His mentor stood shock still, arm outstretched and gaze vacant; the color of his eyes signaling that he had taken back control if not a moment too late. The Six Eared Macaque laid motionless on the ground, his body resting at an odd angle, and a few tufts of black fur were floating through the air between them. It appeared that even the bone witch wasn’t prepared for this turn of events because underneath the usual disinterest there was a hint of surprise on her face.
“MACAQUE?!”
MK shouted, scrambling to his feet and rushing back towards the prone body on the floor. The noise seemed to knock his mentor out of his stupor, a chill running through his body as his arm went limp and dropped down to his side. The demon’s eyes were closed and his glamours shattered; his black fur marred with patches of white and there was considerable scarring visible on the right side of his face. Wukong fell to his knees.
“No- Macaque wake up please come on.”
MK’s reaches out, his trembling hands not quite touching the body as he shakes his head. Wukong tries to assess the damage. His left arm is broken below the shoulder where it’s bent in the wrong direction. The left side of his chest is partially inverted signaling a shattered rib-cage and a substantial amount of internal damage. He’s not moving.
It’s bad.
It’s bad bad bad and Wukong feels like he can’t breathe. His attention snaps back up to Macaque's face when he hears a soft cough and his entire body seems to shake before once again going limp. There's a dark liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth and pooling on the floor, his eyes flickering open slightly.
"Macaque?"
Wukong begs - pleads - voice quiet and breathless.
Macaque's pale, unfocused eyes travel up to Wukong's face and stay there. He's not getting enough oxygen. His vision is fading and the ringing in his ears is so loud and all too quiet at the same time. It this really how it ends? Having once again fallen before the might of the great sage?
The regret is quieted however when his gaze wanders to the side and he manages to identify a grief stricken MK through the ever-worsening fog that clouds his vision. It's something.
It has to be enough.
With the last of his energy Macaque redirects his focus to Sun Wukong; a silent plea - a demand reflected in his eyes. What he doesn't expect to find there on the king's face is regret; tears flowing from his honey gold eyes and dampening the light dusting of fur on his cheeks. He sees Wukong mouth something, but Macaque can already feel himself slipping. He utters a silent prayer that the idiot will manage to protect the kid and erase the bone witch from existence before allowing his eyes to fall closed.
If in that moment his thoughts drift to a well worn memory of two silhouettes basking in the moonlight and the sound of laughter, then that's nobody else's business but his own.
-
While unimportant on a grander scale it's said that Sun Wukong broke all the bones in his hand that day. That pieces of shrapnel rained down on Megapolis, embedded in roofs and asphalt before turning to ash as the Monkie Kid and his friends put an end to the Lady Bone Demon. That a red-headed demon boy disappeared in a whirlwind of flame, a bundle of black fur and stained fabric held delicately in his arms. That when asked why the Monkey King was absent from the group when reporters arrived at the scene, or why the air about the group was so sombre after such a resounding victory, all that was offered was a forced laugh and half-baked claim that the fight had left them tired and drained.