Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I... I can't believe it."

"We've seen this happen so many times, doll! I expected you to take this just a teensy bit better."

Ragatha looked towards her hands, her one working eye glazing over. She tried so hard. She spent every waking hour with Pomni, making sure this didn't happen. She thought she started to come around. She- She just wanted it to be different this time.

Jax slapped his hand onto her shoulder roughly, in an attempt to make her feel better. "Hey, don't beat yourself up about it! She barely lasted a week! What's done is done, and nothing of value was lost." Jax smirked, confident in his consoling.

Caine snapped his fingers and the cellar entrance shut. "WELL, MY BELOVED PERFORMERS, WE SHOULDN'T LET A SMALL SLIP-UP LIKE THIS PREVENT US FROM DOING OUR JOBS! AS I ALWAYS SAY, WHAT'S DONE IS DONE," Caine exclaimed while dusting his hands. Jax's face twisted in disgust, realizing that he had the same thought process as Caine.

The rest of the cast dispersed for Caine's new adventure while Ragatha stayed behind. Jax shot a concerned look back while he sauntered off; it looked like she was studying her hands, but her eye wasn't processing them, along with everything else. Her hands started swaying side to side as her one eye started to turn into a very, very familiar scribble.

A swirling speck of fire floated through the circus. The dark, infested halls were unaffected by the insignificant amount of light given off. Multiple neon, glowing eyes followed the one stimuli they could, their pupils tracing the small flame. It lasted much longer than an ember should have, drifting past the pitch-black surfaces that twisted along the walls like a series of veins. 

Along those veins, a mass of pure abstraction crept. It followed the spark closely. It was gripped on the black creep like a train on its tracks; like a metal ball squeezed into a rubber tube.

The flame reached a standstill, but the creature was still unable to reach it. It pushed itself towards the tantalizing prize as far as it could, stretching out the vein. And yet, it continued to push past its limit. Further, and further, before-

CRCCKH- SPLGRSCTH!

"Got it!"

He peered into the jar, watching as the ember bounced around like a screen saver. "Another firefly! My 4th favorite bug that glows!" Satisfied, Kinger slipped the jar into his cloak before returning his hands to his sides.

"...Wait." He straightened out his slouch and finally observed his surroundings. It looked to be the hallway where all of their rooms were, specifically the very end. Something was different, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it…

Kinger looked down at himself and realized that he was splattered with the same substance that surrounded him, dripping down his body. More of the 'slime' painted the ground behind him, leading up to what looked like an exit wound shot out of one of the veins. Kinger scratched his head and turned back towards the hallway. 

He shuffled down the corridor, his floating eyes darting from door to door. The tendrils continued to twist along the walls; he could feel all the eyes peering into the back of his head. Past all the empty unmarked rooms, he got to the personal ones. The most recent door was still Pomni's, but now her icon had an ominous X plastered over it. Next to hers was Zooble's. That, too, had an X on it. Ah, and Jax, the lovable scamp that everyone loved. He was crossed out. Gangle as well. Even Ragatha? And- oh my god, not Kaufmo! Wait, no, that's normal.

Finally, he arrived at his room. Like all the others, it was crossed out. Kinger pressed his hand onto his body and sighed in relief when it didn't pass through. Kinger thought he would remember becoming a ghost, but he couldn't be too sure. He wiggled the handle, and it was locked.

"Caine? I think I died. And then lost my key. Again. And I checked my pockets this time! Wait- no I didn't." Kinger took a break from shouting to pat his pockets. Nothing. "Caine! I lost my key!"

"AH!" Kinger shouted, quickly looking to his right. "Oh, Caine, there you aren't!" He hummed to himself. Before he could manage to cobble together a thought, his non-existent nose twitched at the smell of smoke coming from the main tent.

Gliding over yet another vein that lay across the bottom of an archway, he peered into the tent. It was more of the same: the bright colors were desaturated, peppered with tears, and shrouded in darkness. Combine that with the vine-like abstractions hanging from the ceiling and clinging to the walls, Kinger barely recognized the circus. More importantly, though, was the pillar of smoke rising behind a wall of giant toy blocks.

His body drifted silently around the wall; he peered from behind his cover. It was another person! Well, 'person.' It sort of looked like a vintage robot toy. It had a shiny, silver, solid tungsten cube that acted as a head, complete with a doofy grin slapped on.

"Oh, hey!"

Chips and scratches sprinkled along the dulled-down edges of its head; the bottom side of its head connected directly to its torso, the two body parts identical in material. The body was longer and thinner in comparison, however.

"Haven't seen someone here- well, ever! So this is a surprise!"

Two giant rusted-over screws connected its arms to the rest of it. Another pair of rusty pivots acted as its elbows, before leading to a pair of robot grippers. A clear seam on its waist showed off a T-piece connecting two more limbs.

"Are you okay? Was that you screaming back there? I'm assuming so, because it wasn't me, and that cuts the suspect list in half."

The robot sat in front of a roaring fire. It seemed like it collected whatever looked flammable and tossed it into a pile. Kinger could see Ragatha's dresser and a few of her outfits, a cardboard cutout of Kaufmo, some of Gangle's masks, and even a few plushie versions of his seemingly dead friends. Wow! That's fucked up!

"Hey, aren't you the person on that one locked door? If you were in there, you must've not heard my knocking. That's my bad."

"Oh, no, you're fine."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"GAH-"

“‘Kinger?’ Sorry if this is rude, but did you just- make that up?” 

“Oh, apologies are not necessary, my horribly rude friend,” Kinger assured. “I had that assigned many years ago. I don't know how he came up with it!” 

“Well, my name’s Joyce, I think! Nice to meet you!” They offered their claw and grabbed his hand, shaking it up and down while he watched.

“Hm. How long have you been here, exactly?” 

“Five years and counting! I've got a great internal clock, you know,” they said whilst proudly clanging against their chest. “And could I ask a question of my own? Who is this ‘He’ that you spoke of?”

“Oh, you know, Caine.”

Joyce tilted their head slightly.

“You know, the ringmaster? Had one or more teeth, I believe?” 

“Mmm- Sorry, I've only met one person my entire life, and he’s in front of me.” Kinger looked behind him, just to make sure. “Wait wait wait- You've been here before?”

Kinger turned back around before responding. “Well, only once.”

Joyce’s eyes widened as their ever-present grin grew. “You've got to tell me all about it! I'll show you around!” They hopped up whilst pulling Kinger to his feet(?). “I assure you, I've left everything as I found it.”

Kinger’s eyes followed their sweeping arm across the ruined grounds. “It wasn't always like this, I think.” 

“Really? Fascinating! What was it like?” 

“As I recall, there were more people. Some were clowns, some were made out of ribbons, some were the love of my life, and some were named Jax.” 

“I recognize that name from some of the frantic scrawling on the walls!”

“Small world,” Kinger pondered as the two started to walk. 

“Were these things here back then?” Joyce said while cautiously stepping over an eye. Kinger shook his head. 

"I don't have a clue what they are,” Joyce continued. “They look straight out of an abstract painting, with their abstract multi-colored outline, and those abstract eyes that always follow you. Because of that, I've decided to call them: ‘George.'"

“That works perfectly .”

As they strolled outside, the first thing to notice had to be the sky. To Kinger, it looked like what he saw just a few moments ago but copied over and over again. He waved his hand in front of his face and it left a trail of duplicates. 

"Oo, oo! Was it like that when you were here last?!" Joyce eagerly asked.

"Huh. It looks like a 'hall of mirrors' effect due to a lack of a skybox. It must have nothing to draw, so it doesn't replace or cull the previously rendered frame, showing the buffer and creating the effect you see here."

“...So?”

“No, it wasn't.”

“Ah.”

“Well, I can tell you about the rest from here,” Joyce continued. “Over in that direction is the amusement park! All rides and attractions are broken. Over there is the Hole, that way is the lake, go that way if you want to see the Hole, and right behind you is the circus.” 

“The circus? That sounds like fun, I wanna go! Where is it?”

“Right behind you!” 

“Who?” 

“The circus!” Joyce replied, failing to get annoyed.

“Oh, let's go now!” Kinger grabbed the robot’s forearm and dragged them back inside.

“Wait, hold on,” Joyce had asked only after the chess piece had already dragged them halfway through the tent. They put their hand to their chest. “It’s evening already. We need to go to bed.”

“Do we need to sleep?”

“Well, I've never missed a night, and I certainly don't want to find out what happens now,” Joyce cheerfully replied, putting out the fire with a large tarp. That was oddly good fire physics for the circus, Kinger noted. He didn't say anything like that, instead opting to retire to his fortress. His five seconds of silent rocking was short-lived due to Joyce’s barely audible knocking. 

From Joyce's point of view, it looked like he had been replaced by a big pile of pillows, so it was good to see him once he opened the entrance. 

“Are- Are you okay? You didn't get eaten by pillows, did you?” 

He looked to the distance in thought before replying. “No, I don't believe so.” 

“Oh, very good then!” Joyce said, crouching down and letting themselves in. Weirdly, it was smaller than it looked from the outside. Maybe he turned it inside out? “Cozy!”

“You know, you remind me of someone I can't quite put my finger on,” Kinger interrupted. “Most people get quiet for a long time, slinking off into the darkness, just to jump out and YELL at me. But you? You never shut the hell up!” He chimed, chipperly.

“Aw. Thank you! That's the first compliment I've ever gotten! I thought someone else did, but it turned out that was me.” Joyce’s hip joint didn't allow for much leaning, so they flopped onto their side with a heavy ‘thud.’ It usually took a good hour to worm their way back upright from this position, but confident in their new friend, they allowed themselves to get comfortable.

Kinger’s eyes drifted in two separate directions. 

“Good night, Kinger.”

“Huh? Oh, no thank you, I'm good.”

The pair drifted off into their simulated sleep, unworried about the future. If they were, one would have certainly come up with a direction or goal for the coming days. But they didn't, because they weren't.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Slowly, a puddle formed at the end of the hallway. Like droplets of water dripping off a leaf, a shiny black puddle formed under the newly opened hole. 

The drops turned to a stream. Then the stream turned to nothing. 

A new eye peered out.

Chapter Text

“Only 4 remain. The snowball has started to roll.”

“Oh, shut your @#&%€%$ trap!” Jax snapped. “I don't have time for your foreboding $#@%.”

He, Kinger, and Gangle were just assigned another adventure. Finding ‘bungar-ber luper-snoodles,’ or some other series of noises. None of them knew what they were doing. Jax wasn't paying attention, Kinger was... Kinger, Gangle was still shaken up even with her fixed comedy mask, and Zooble chose not to participate. Again.

“Oh my, You’re right! My bug catcher, I must close it! I'll be right back,” Kinger exclaimed, shuffling away. Jax sighed and rubbed his temples; Gangle slowly laid a ribbon on his shoulder.

“Don’t- Don't F!%$!@ING TOUCH me!” Jax shoved her away, nearly knocking her comedy mask off. He had a rare expression of anger on his face.

“O-oh!” Gangle exclaimed whilst regaining her balance. “I just thought- that- that you needed some c-consoling! I didn't-”

"'Consoling?' That's real rich, coming from you, crybaby.” Jax interrupted as he took a step closer, intimidatingly towering over her.

“It’s- I just t-thought that- someone needed to!” Gangle squeaked with a faltering smile. She was shrinking into herself. “Be-Because- that was u-usually what R-Rag-”

“SHUT UP!” Jax roughly gripped her ‘shoulder’ and pushed a finger toward her face. “Let me make something clear: There was no Ragatha. There never was. And if I hear one peep out of you about her, I’ll make @#&$ sure you join her. Got it?” 

Gangle’s breath quickened.

“Huh, I'm sorry, but I'm not hearing an answer. Maybe something’s in my ears?”

“I-I- No!” Gangle yelled, straightening up. “She w-was our friend, and I'm- I’m not going to just… Just n-not care! You- You need t-to care, that's all- all you can do!” She wrapped one end of her ribbons around his hand, attempting to hold his hand reassuringly. 

“Well, I could also do this.” 

He used her hand to shove her to the ground. Not only did she go down, her mask flew off and shattered against the tiled floor. “Wow, you were right! I feel so much better,” Jax said, his voice shaking with an unfamiliar rage.

Gangle looked up at him with new tears flowing. 

Her grip tightened on his hand as she forced a shoddy smile.

“Oh, for the love of- Just- Just give up! On everyone, on ME! Just go ahead and abstract! You should know that no one would care!” Jax tried to pull his hand away. “Let- Let GO!”

“N-No… No!”

“GET OFF! YOU CAN’T- #&@%$, STOP!”

“No!”

“I S-SWEAR, I CAN-”

“NO!”

Rip.

Shatter.

Jax opened his eyes. He stood over what used to be Gangle. Alongside her comedy mask was a shattered tragedy mask, and a long tangled ribbon rested on the floor, completely still. 

He- He killed her?

Jax’s mind was racing. No, that couldn't be right, could it? Caine could just snap his fingers and she’d be fine again! Right? There wasn't any sign of life in the trash heap that used to be her. What if he had completely wiped her? Every trace of her identity erased from the hard drive? What if she comes back abstracted? He- He didn't mean for this! She didn't respect his wishes, what else was he supposed to do? 

He had to get out of there. He turned around and sprinted. He ran as fast as he could down the first hallway he saw, as far as his paws could take him. 

The ribbon was still squeezing his hand supportingly.

“Something's been bothering me.”

“Huh? What's wrong?” Joyce’s eyes fluttered open as he said that.

“When you arrived in the circus, did you look down at the back of your hands, turn them over, then back around again?”

“...Yes?”

“...Does everyone do that?” 

“...Could you please help me up?”

After a long, arduous process, Kinger dismantled his fort and lifted Joyce back onto their feet.

“Hah, taste that fresh- …Taste that air! Today is the start of a new day!” Joyce declared, decisively pointing his finger to the sky. Kinger tilted his head.

“Hum. What now?”

“Well, I believe that's the present time or mo- Aw!” 

Joyce lifted their foot. a sticky black ooze dripped off. “...I stepped in George.”

Kinger leaned forward to take a look. There was a trail of the stuff painted across the ground. It was quite like the stuff that covered him when he shot out of that… thing. It was fresh.

Kinger silently thought to himself; a rarity. The trail got thinner and faded in one direction, while the other way got thicker and went down the cast hallway. 

“Did I get it all?”

“Huh?” Kinger turned to see Joyce wiping the last bits of gunk off their foot. “Oh. Yes, I believe so.

“If I may change the subject, I believe that this-” Kinger gestured to the streak. “-could be of interest.”

“Oh! …What is?”

Joyce touched one of the ‘leaves’ that the exit hole made. He flicked it and watched it bounce, amused. 

“This is also new! Wow, this is overwhelming. Two new things up from the average of zero? That’s like- infinite times more than usual!”

Kinger didn't pay them any mind; he crouched down and touched the ooze, dragging some of it up with his finger to take a closer look. Good news: he was wearing gloves. Bad news: he couldn't take them off.

Joyce stepped aside as Kinger stood up. He shook his hand clean before stepping back for a bigger picture. He did that picture frame thing with his hands. It didn't help in the slightest, but he couldn't not do it. 

The thing he was first shot out of: the exit wound had gotten bigger. By almost 10 times, in fact. He let out a sharp exhale before shaking his head. 

“I don't believe that this could be anything but bad. The other end goes cold, and I can't imagine who- or what- could've done something like this.”

“Ah, no no no, this is plenty good! You just need to look at it from another angle,” Joyce interjected. “Think about it this way: we didn't have sludge before. Now we do! Imagine all the possibilities that have opened up for us!”

Kinger blinked a few times. “Oh. I've never thought of it like that.”

“What should we do first?” Kinger asked, walking and talking back to the central area.

“Well, obviously, we have to start with a slip-and-slide. That's undebatable. Plus, I'm sure that some of it will get into our mouths while we slip and/or slide, so the taste of it will determine our next step- Hm?” 

Kinger suddenly stopped in his tracks. Joyce did the same and followed his frightened gaze.

Standing right in front of them was a towering beast with a dozen eyes, every single one trained on the pair. It was made of the same stuff infesting the circus but noticeably more unstable. Every polygon that flickered in and out of reality looked sharp enough to cut through anything like butter. It let out a high, garbled screech that tapered into ear-splitting clicks.

“Oh, hello! And you are?”

Kinger pushed Joyce away; the powerful crash of the creature’s fist sounded behind them both. Joyce’s metal feet screeched against the floor as Kinger continued to push.

“Wha- Huh? Where are we going?”

Kinger didn't get a chance to respond before the ground-shaking stomps grew in volume, and with a deafening boom, the extinguished campfire was plowed through. The debris landing around them did not help Kinger’s growing anxiety. 

He got a small chance to catch his breath after scrambling out of the tent, for the monster was busy reorienting itself after the collision.

“The… Amusement… Park!” He gasped.

“Oh! That's a great idea!” Joyce happily pincered Kinger’s hand and dragged him away, barely dodging the abstraction’s pounce.

Joyce used the Ferris Wheel as a marker, helping them drag Kinger into the center of the park. Kinger got the honor of seeing the creature bounding toward them the entire journey. 

“We should try out the merry-go-round! The last time I checked, it was broken, but that was an entire week ago! I'm sure it worked itself out by now,” Joyce pondered. Kinger’s eyes shot from place to place as that… thing approached, looking for any way out of this.

He rushed over to the nearest carnival game; a baseball-launcher game manned by a slouched-over mannequin. 

“This should cover it!” Kinger exclaimed, slamming a jar full of moths onto the counter and grabbing the cannon right as the monster came into view. 

Shoving a baseball down the barrel, he spun around and fired one off. It connected with its target, hitting the abstraction between its eyes. Which actually wasn't that hard, considering its… everything. It flinched and stopped in its tracks, growling out pure static.

“JOYCE!”

“Huh? Oh, I can help!” They said, bounding over and tossed another baseball to Kinger. Another shot connected, letting off a satisfying smack. It tried to advance through the volley of projectiles, slamming its limb into the fake dirt and leaving a crack. 

Despite its efforts, after the 26th baseball, it screeched again and retreated. Once Kinger made sure it was gone, he let out an exhausted sigh and dropped the launcher to the ground. 

“Nice, Good job! Do you have a preference for what to get, or can I choose?” 

Kinger turned to Joyce as they said this, seeing them already reaching for a prize. Kinger could only muster a shake of his head and an exasperated chuckle. He had enough of a prize, that being the thumps of the creature’s feet fading and the rumble under his feet getting stronger.

Kinger’s eyes shot open. Stronger?

Joyce turned around in confusion, now holding an oversized birdcage containing a single PNG of a parrot. The cracked ground that the abstraction left started to expand and shift, a web of cracks expanded across the amusement park with a series of loud bangs. 

Those cracks began to split apart, and the first thing that emerged were giant pillars of black ooze, exploding out of the ground. 

Joyce gasped. 

“Oil! We’re RICH!” 

Kinger had no idea his eyes could be widened any further, but lo and behold, he was completely freaking out. Not the momentary scream of terror he usually had, but a creeping sense of dread that something awful is going to happen very, very soon. 

But Kinger supposed that that was the definition of dread, so he went back to freaking out.

Once a neon eye popped out of one of the fissures, Kinger’s instincts took over. Mostly the instinct to find a nice dark place, curl up, and cower. 

“THAT WAY!” Kinger urged, pointing to a water ride that led into a nice dark tunnel. 

Joyce shrugged. “You’re the boss!”  

Jax was right on one account; Gangle was gone the moment he pushed her. Not that Caine couldn't bring her back, she just came back a bit… Unstable. 

Too unstable to keep out of the cellar, in fact.

“GOOD EVENING, EVERYONE,” Caine soberly announced. He had just teleported the three remaining cast members in front of him, even if most were sleeping. And by most, I mean everyone but Kinger.

“It’s still bright outside…” Zooble complained, rubbing their eyes with the one hand that could. Caine was on stage, speaking into a microphone attached to a podium.

“YES, ZOOBLE, YOU’RE RIGHT! WE’LL NEED THAT SORT OF FORWARD-THINKING AROUND HERE TODAY. BUT THERE IS A REASON I TELEPORTED YOU ALL HERE TODAY.

“IT IS WITH A HEAVY HEART THAT I ANNOUNCE, ANOTHER DEAR FRIEND OF OURS HAS ABSTRACTED. AND-”

“Wait, &%@$, what?!” Zooble twisted their head around. It was just the main grounds again but with a few metal chairs scattered in front of the stage. 

They saw Kinger, standing in front of a chair. Jax was also there, hunched over in his seat and fidgeting. Not his usually ‘cool-boy’ fidgeting, spinning a key ring around or whatever, more of the nervous kind.

“Are you talking about Bubble? You- You better be talking about Bubble, &%$@?%€&!”

“I'M AFRAID NOT!” Caine announced chipperly, taking off his hat and letting Bubble emerge. 

“Aw! You think I'm a dear frien-”

“$@%& no. Where- Where’s Gangle?” 

“WELL, ZOOBLE, I JUST TOLD YOU. SOUNDS LIKE I NEEDED TO GIVE YOU SOME BETTER ANTENNE!" Caine paused as if a laugh track was playing, but none did. 

“BUT GOOD NEWS! I’M NOT TREATING THIS LIKE ANY OTHER OLD ABSTRACTION! I'VE BEEN TOLD BY MANY PAST MEMBERS THAT HUMANS NEED TIME TO ‘GRIEVE.’ AFTER RESEARCHING WHAT THAT WORD IS, I AM NOTHING BUT A MAN OF THE PEOPLE!” Caine bellowed in his showman-ish tone. “SO, FOR TODAY’S AMAZING ADVENTURE, WE WILL BE…” A drum roll played, seemingly from nowhere.

“SOLVING A MURDER MYSTERY! THAAAT’S RIGHT, WE WILL AVENGE POOR, SWEET GANGLE, AND GET TO THE BOTTOM OF HOW IT REALLY HAPPENED THROUGH A SERIES OF FUN SLIDING TILE PUZZLES, AND-”

“WHAT?! WHAT THE &@#& ARE YOU DOING?” Zooble jumped out of their seat and screamed, voice shaking as the past year bubbled over. Their antenna had gotten past the point of shaking in anger, seemingly still and seething with rage. “WHAT THE #@&$  IS WRONG WITH YOU, MAN?!”

“WOAH, WOAH, THERE’S NO NEED TO SWEAR, AND CERTAINLY NO NEED TO YELL! (IT’S GETTING QUITE HARD TO TELL US APART…)”

“THIS- THIS IS #%$-@&% AWFUL! IN WHAT -@%£℅® WORLD WOULD MAKE YOU THINK THIS IS A GOOD IDEA? WE’RE ALREADY GOING THROUGH SO MUCH $#¥@, AND NOW YOU’RE UP THERE TRYING TO TURN THIS INTO ANOTHER- ANOTHER @&#&-%& JOKE? LIKE EVERYTHING HERE WASN'T @&$%#&% ENOUGH!”

“OH. WELL, THEN YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN’T LOOK BEHIND YOU…”

Zooble immediately looked behind them. Bubble was wearing a classic Sherlock Holmes hat and held a piece of chalk between his teeth. He was currently drawing a crude caricature of Gangle on the floor.

“@&$&. You.”

“Y-Yeah!” Jax piped up. “We s-shouldn't do this stupid game. It’s… It’s disres-”

“And YOU!” Zooble shoved their chair away, causing it to fold up and clatter loudly onto the floor. Kinger will flinch in a couple seconds. “Everyone knows it’s your %#%@$#% fault. I have put together that @#&-&£$#¢£#&% mask so many %$@£℅@* times because of you.”

Jax grit his teeth as they got right up to his face. 

“Do you know why I never tried to @?!#%¢@ kill you?” They whispered. Jax’s ears flattened against his head and sweat poured down his forehead. “Never tied you up and left you in a place where Caine would never find you, never kicked you into the cellar whenever it opened? 

“Because Gangle told me not to. She truly told herself that you were just ‘toughing’ her up, no matter what I tried to tell her. Really, she was the only person that actually believed in you. Now she’s dead. And nobody, &%@€#£& NOBODY, is going to-”

“WO-O-O-OAH! EVERYBODY NEEDS TO JUST CALM DOWN HERE!” Caine teleported between them and held his hands at arms length. He pointedly held a finger up. “RIVALRIES OF THE NON-FRIENDLY VARIETY ARE NOT PERMITTED HERE AT THE CIRCUS! 

“NOW, ZOOBLE, HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF SOMEONE YELLED AT YOU LIKE THAT, HM? SAY SORRY TO JAX.”

“... All of you, go @&$# yourselves,” Zooble muttered, limping off to their room. They popped Bubble on their way. Everything was silent, the only sound being Zooble’s lopsided footsteps followed by the slam of their door.

“...”

“...”

“... CON-GRAAATULATIONS JAX! YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY AVOIDED BEING CAUGHT, AND HAVE WON TODAY’S ADVENTURE! HERE IS YOUR PRIZE,” Caine announced, spawning a cartoony ice-cream cone and forcing it into the stunned bunny’s hand.

“Wait…” Kinger finally spoke up. “Jax killed Gangle?”

“OH. NEVERMIND, KINGER HAS WON!” Caine celebrated. “AND- YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU BOTH GET ICE-CREAM! MY TREAT.”

“Oh. Hooray!” Kinger clapped, confused, but happy. 

Kinger slammed his fist onto the control panel, and it made a squeaky hammer noise. Whether that was the sound of his fist or the panel, he couldn't tell. Joyce jumped into the ride, his metal frame nearly tipped it over; Kinger managed to hit something to make the raft lurch forward, so he hopped the fence and landed next to Joyce before anything could see him.

Kinger anxiously tapped his fingers against the metal bar as it inched forward. He expected to zip off like a log flume ride, but it crawled at the speed of smell. He was given a chance to breathe as they rounded the corner and entered the darkness.

Speed of smell? Is- Is that a real saying, or did he make something up again?

The lights suddenly blinked on; they gave off a dim red glow and illuminated the set-pieces arranged all around them. Joyce looked around with amazement at the surroundings. They could tell that it was supposed to be an active town, but it didn't quite pull it off. 

The mannequins that were supposed to be performing daily tasks, delivering mail or rolling around a stroller, were instead completely broken. Some were swiveling around wildly, others were unnaturally still; a few were literally broken, snapped in half. 

The speakers along the walls blared awake, letting off an awful static before speaking.

“W__T- WHA_ _S LOVE?- LO_E?” 

Kinger recognized that booming voice as Caine, even through the crackle. 

Wow, he was noticing a lot more things than usual. Must be all that adrenaline.

Wait, what’s adrenaline?

“TH__ IS! L__E- *CRCKH* -ARI_G!” A mannequin reached towards the raft. It was supposed to be offering a bouquet, but now the flowers were gone, and it just looked like it was about to strangle them. Joyce nodded thoughtfully at the statement while Kinger leaned away from the mannequin, a cold sweat shooting up his back.

The ride continued forward. It flowed through dark tunnels, illuminated only by the occasional neon heart or cherub sign, before slowing down at the next scene. It was a dining room, but all the chairs were empty. Caine’s commentary disappeared, replaced by muffled whimsical music that started to rise in volume. Kinger started to shrink into his cloak.

“What do you think it means?” Joyce asked, nudging Kinger on the shoulder. Kinger whimpered in response. 

The music climbed louder and louder before suddenly cutting out. The raft started forward again, making Kinger tense up. He couldn't even muster his signature yelp. 

They eventually arrived at the next scene; a mannequin with no top half stood at the front door of a house that was clearly just a massive cardboard cutout. The boat clicked and rolled to a complete stop and the speakers' constant static cut out. The red glow turned off before being replaced with a standard light. 

“Oh! Is it over?” Joyce asked, looking around confused. “Wow! I've ridden this ride 427 times, and yet it still surprised me this one and only time!”

“...Is it safe now? Can I come out?”

“Aw, it was always safe, silly!” Kinger slowly emerged from his cloak. “You've seemed a bit- on edge? No need to fret, it's just a simple, fun, amusement park trip!”

Kinger let out a short breath. “Yes, I suppose I have. I just…” Kinger paused. “Is the boat shaking?”

They both went silent for a moment as the boat swayed. “Oh yeah, it is! Well observed, buddy!”

The lights flickered ominously as the shaking momentarily stopped. Water was violently flung onto the boat as frantic splashing sounded around them. Kinger, just as frantically, tried to force the restraint bar off, but it wouldn't budge. The boat rocked as something slammed against the bottom.

“Joyce? Could you do me a favor and help get this thing off us?”

“That doesn't seem safe, though?”

“Y-Yes, but-” Another slam, sounding much more violent this time. “But! I personally think! That it's going to hurt a lot more! To be ripped to shreds and slammed into a fine, glitchy pulp by a giant eye-covered monstrosity! If- If that isn't rude to say!”

“Wait wait wait, what? Would the Georges really do something like that? Since- Since when?!”

They managed to squeak the bar forward and slip out after a lot of pestering, right as something cracked below. An unsure leap got both over the gap and onto the set piece, just in time to see the ship spring a leak and sink. Kinger thought that the water would only be a foot deep, but the water was completely opaque and pitch black, so he couldn't know.

Jumping out of the water, another abstraction emerged. It was… Kind of cute? It was small, only coming up to their waists. It was compact enough that neither could make out any distinguishing features; just a violently twitching blob with a giant eye on its front. But he only considered that its front because its only eye was there.

Kinger’s amazing philosophic train of thought was rudely interrupted as another emerged. And another. And so on, until they were completely surrounded by two dozen of them. 

“Uh- Uh- Do something! …Pretty please?” Joyce asked, pressed up against the cardboard cutout as the pack approached.

“What? Me?”

“Yeah! You’re the smart one!”

“I- I am?” Kinger straightened up. “I am!” 

He heaved the broken mannequin up and threw it into the crowd. He somehow managed to miss all of them. 

“Of course! They don't like things being thrown at their faces! Genius!” Joyce confidently proclaimed. “...I think we're out of things to throw.”

“Uh- Uh- No, no, I can figure something out. What about your bird cage?” Joyce was still lugging that around, much to Kinger’s surprise.

“What? No! I got it as a prize, I can't get rid of it!”

Kinger started feeling around his pockets frantically. As soon as he felt something, without hesitation, he retrieved it and hurled it into the middle of the crowd. That object just so happened to be one of his bug jars. 

More specifically, the one with the spark of fire.

As soon as it smashed, chaos erupted. Fire JPEGs flared up over the entire area, igniting all of the creatures. As it turned out, abstractions were really flammable. They all began to scurry around in random directions, slamming into walls and falling in the ‘water.’ Kinger and Joyce had to jump in opposite directions as one ran straight for them, slamming into the cutout. It toppled over with a heavy thud, also catching on fire.

That all happened in around 5 seconds, not letting any of them fully realize what was happening. Kinger could only shrink into a corner, close his eyes, and grab his temples as everything burnt. In the opposite corner, Joyce was overwhelmed with experiencing fear for the first time in their life. 

Most of the creatures had already dove back into the water, but a few were still fumbling around. One, in particular, had its eyes fixed on Kinger.

It charged toward him at full speed, murderous intent flashing in its eyes. Joyce panicked and froze, shaking. 

At the very last second, they decided jumping at it was the best course of action. The only thing preventing it from going any worse was the cage they still clasped in their hands. The door opened as they swung it downward, slamming the abstraction inside. The entire cage rolled over and settled. Joyce shut the door and locked it before the creature could get wise.

The last of the abstractions ran away, and almost immediately after that, the smoke finally reached the sprinklers and activated. 

Kinger blinked open his eyes once the heat stopped lapping at his skin. 

Wait, no. His… wood? It's so hard to remember.

He was met with a giant, burnt, soaking-wet mess. The cutout that laid on the floor was just cardboard mush now. 

Kinger exhaled and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Holy- Holy hell.”

The abstraction let out a high-pitched click. Kinger immediately yelped in response. 

“Woah, woah! What's wrong?” Joyce asked, just as surprised as him.

Kinger regained his composure with a hand to his chest, taking a better look. The birdcage was set upright and one of the mini-abstractions was trapped inside. “I- Uh- Should we get rid of that?”

“Aw, do we really have to? It’s cute! I promise I'll take good care of it, and feed it every day!”

“I- Alright, yes, that's fine. I don't really see it, but that’s alright. I don't believe you need to feed it.” Kinger tapped the back of his head. He missed whatever his old body was like, but the tapping of the wood was always nice to experience. “I’m- I’m sorry I swore.”

“What’s a ‘swore?’”

“...Really?” Kinger tilted his head at them. “Hum… It’s a word that- Hm- A word that’s bad. Not obscenely bad, that’s another category of words. It’s- You should use them in very special circumstances, examples being when you’re mad, proving a point, or- Just, anywhere.”

“Huh. That doesn't make any sense.”

“Try not to overuse them, that's the main restriction.”

“Could you list out all of the words? To avoid them easier?”

“I don't believe that would be the best of ideas.”

“Please?”

“...Alright,” Kinger caved. “Well, I believe there's various tiers of ‘badness’ they come in. The most tame tier would contain words like ‘crap,-’”

The abstraction let out a high-pitched click. Kinger immediately yelped in response.

“Oh- sorry.” Joyce apologized. “I'll try and teach it to not make any noise if that’ll make you feel better!”

“N-No, no, that's quite alright. Hah- as I was saying, words like ‘damn,-’”

The abstraction let out a high-pitched click. Kinger didn't yell this time, but stopped mid-sentence. He pointed his eyes at the caged beast.

“...Hell.”

The abstraction let out a high-pitched click.

“Ass.”

The abstraction let out a high-pitched click.

“Balls?”

The abstraction let out a high-pitched click.

“What’s- What’s happening?” Joyce interjected. “Are you mad or proving a point? I hope it's not both.”

“...No. Could you come here, if you please?”

Both started kneeling in front of the cage and were looking down at it.

“It’s responding to outside stimuli.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know,” Kinger answered. “But it either likes swears or hates them. Or some middle option. Or an option not in the middle, but also not in one extreme. I've narrowed it down to one of those.”

“But what do we do with that info?”

“We could keep swearing at it?” 

“Great idea!”

“I’ll start,” Joyce graciously offered. “Ahem. …Dagnabbit?”

“Fuck.”

“Shoot.”

“Shitasstits!”

“Wang!”

The abstraction no longer clicked in response, but its eye narrowed and the polygons began to clip more aggressively.

“Feck.”

“Ass!”

“Twat.”

The clipping became more violent, and a buzzing sound started to emit from it. The lights overhead flickered and the cage began to shake. Yet, they continued.

“Piss!”

“Bastard.”

“Fucker-mother!”

“...Boobalicious?”

The abstraction started to shrink into itself. It looked like a scared cat trying to make itself small, but it just kept going until every polygon was crunched into a tiny, Z-clipping ball.

“...Well!” Joyce said, dusting their claws together. “Looks like we did it, I gu-”

It immediately exploded. 

The pair were flung across the room as white blinded the room, slamming into the opposite wall. The cage was completely demolished and singe marks imprinted the spot. Not even the parrot JPEG survived.

Kinger lifted his head. Joyce left a giant crack in the wall and now sat dazed on the ground. The singed ground wasn't the only thing that replaced the cage. 

Kinger got himself up and cautiously approached the bright pink object. He poked it and it didn't immediately disintegrate his hand, which was a good sign. 

Gathering all his bravery, he flipped it over.

“JOYCE! I found the Zooble head!”

Chapter Text

Poke. Poke, poke.

“Urgh, Jesus, give me a little bit. You know Caine’ll just go and teleport me himself if it's so fuckin’ important.”

Zooble eyes shot open once they realized what they just said. Once they had adjusted to the light, Zooble was greeted by Kinger’s piercing blue eyes carving into their soul. 

“AH! What the hell, man!? How’d you get in here?”

“Boat.”

Zooble’s retort got caught in their throat once they shot their gaze from one side of the room to another. It was a complete mess, which was very similar to their room, but this was certainly not their room. 

That wasn't what was the most pressing in their mind, however.

“Fuck. Shit. Bitch-eating cock-sucker? Eat my ass, you teeth-faced pussy!” Zooble exclaimed these in increasing pitch and volume as they got more excited. “Holy fuck, I don’t know what the fuck is fuckin’ happening, but this is the best fuckin’ day of my fuckin’ life. …Fuck.”

“Ahem- if I may interrupt, Zooble, I believe there's a lot of things you might need to catch up on. But worry not! For I will help with any questions you may have!” Kinger helpfully offered.

“Alright, sure. Where am I?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...Alright, screw this, I can figure this out myself.”

Attempting to get up, it finally clicked that their head wasn't attached to anything.

Zooble was used to losing their limbs. Heck, they got used to being decapitated. But there was something different this time. Trying to feel around with their arms, they felt nothing. Not any surface around the arm, not their muscles contracting, nothing but the feeling of phantom limbs. 

“Alright, what the hell? Kinger, could you PLEASE form just one complete thought! …Wow, even the word ‘hell’ is worth its weight in gold no-”

“I’M CONSCIOUS NOW!” Joyce shouted from across the room, jumping up with a metal clang. 

“Oh! Joyce! Good to see you!” Kinger turned around to face them. “Zooble just asked an interesting question. Would you happen to know where we are?”

“Oh, I need to ponder that one over…”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“This is so unbelievably infuriating.” Zooble groaned, antennae twitching. 

“Hey, I recognize you!” Joyce said, joining Kinger's side.

“Yeah, I’m not a… ‘Face’ people tend to forget. Can’t say the same about you.”

Joyce reached behind themselves and pulled out a small book from nowhere. It was wrapped in red ribbons and had charming doodles all over the cover. They struggled to flip through it with their claw hands, but they managed to stop at a certain page. “Yeah, right here! Well, I personally don't think ‘the light bouncing off your triangle sparkles like morning dew,’ but otherwise, it's perfect! 

“Also, I think you’re missing most of your body if this book is to be believed.” Joyce shut the journal and dropped it behind them. It tumbled to the floor.

“Yeah. Well observed.” Zooble continued. “Could one of you please inform me how I got here?”

“Oh, that I can answer!” Kinger’s eyes stopped drifting apart and snapped to attention. He held his finger up decisively.

“First, every body part of yours seemed to have abstracted.”

“Okay.”

“Then, I set them on fire.”

“Mhm.”

“Then they jumped into the water.” 

“Go on.”

“Now we don't know where they went.”

“Alright, glad we got that cleared up. Now, can you do me a favor, and chuck me into that wall as hard as you can?”

Kinger was just about to do it, but Zooble continued. “Wait, ‘abstracted?’ Like- fully? How long has it been?” They attempted to rub their temples by instinct, but couldn't, of course.

“Oh. Did you not mean to do that?” Kinger asked.

“Hold on- I remember now! You should be dead too!”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Zooble.”

“No, I- Whatever! One of you, call Caine! I need an actual explanation, and I'm not lowering myself down to the level of calling him.”

Joyce and Kinger looked on in silence.

“...Caine’s gone, isn't he?” Zooble shut their eyes tight. “Fuckin’- That’s fine! I can swear now, so that's a net positive, sure! 

“I can’t believe I actually want to get those shitty mix n’ match limbs back, but there should be a box of spare parts tucked away in some corner of my room. Either one of you brings me there or you get it yourself. The faster the better, because I don't know how long I can keep myself entertained by swearing in this dark room.”

“Ahah- I know this isn't a good introduction, Mr. Zooble, ma’am, but there's another problem that we have to confront,” Joyce said, attempting to scratch the back of their head with their rigid claws. ”You wrecked our only boat, and now we’re stranded.”

“Wait, there's a river or something back there?” Zooble asked, not having the greatest vantage point. “Then where is he going?”

Joyce looked back. Kinger had wandered off and was now hovering an inch above the water. 

“Oh! Kinger, come here! Zooble has a mission for you that I already forgot!”

Zooble watched Kinger shuffle over to them, infuriatingly slowly. “Alright, I cannot believe I’m-”

“GAH! Oh, my apologies, go on.”

“...I can’t believe I’m entrusting you with this, but apparently, you’re the only one able to. I need you to float your chess piece ass out of here, allll the way to my room. The box of parts should be under my bed. You can get your pillow fort or whatever, and make sure to bring back a boat. Have you got all that?” 

“Everything, apart from you asking if I got all that.” 

“...That'll do.”

“Do you want to come with? It would be nice to have some entertainment.”

“No offense, but I don't think I trust those hands with my head over any body of water.”

Kinger stood up straight and saluted, a soldier ready for his mission. He karate-chopped his floating eyes in the process. 

He grabbed the dropped journal on his way, looking for any form of entertainment.

Zooble let out a sigh of relief as he floated away. Not that they didn't like the guy, it was just a strain to talk with more than two people at once. Were they being a bit too mean? They were very confused and frustrated, that's all. Plus, it seemed like neither of them could care less.

Speaking of which, Joyce was kneeling, looking at Zooble with a stupid smile plastered on their face.

“Sooo, what’s your name?”

“Wh- Zooble?”

“Ah, right. What’s mine?”

“I don't know!”

“It’s Joyce, nice to meet you!”

Zooble groaned. “Listen, I’m not the type for pleasantries, alright? I’m completely fine with us both sitting in silence. And before you inevitably ask: I don’t know shit about my gender either, so kindly get off my ass.”

“I’m not quite sure what that is?”

“...Gender?”

“Yeah!”

“...Alright. You've piqued my interest.”

Kinger drifted over the opaque water’s surface with his usual wide-eyed stare. All the hearts and Cupids made him uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn't place. 

He could try and place it. It’s not often he gets to think to himself like this. Usually, Caine would've shoved him and everyone else into another adventure, and that took most of his brain power. If not all.

Turning the corner, he made it to the town set-piece they passed by first. Sadly, not one spider decided to string up their house here, despite how decrepit it appeared. 

He didn't like the silence. Silence gave him time to think, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. 

Speaking of thoughts, his was awfully straightforward recently, wasn't it? He recalls having to lead that Joyce fellow away from the dangers. That was quite a feat of quick thinking, he thought to himself.

Kinger walked through the fake town. He traced his glove along a mannequin’s head. No dust was programmed in, for obvious reasons.

How long has it been? And where could he have been all this time? He certainly didn't remember anything. Zooble brought up abstraction, which was an interesting idea. 

Wait, no, he was the one to bring it up. But he could've sworn that he didn't know they were called that!

Kinger gripped the fluff of his robe. Was his mind aware of things that he wasn't? But he is his brain, so why would it allow him to think that it was hiding things? 

He took a shuddering breath. When he started thinking about his own thoughts, that's when he needed to stop. That's what she always told him, anyway.

Kinger took a look outside of the tunnel. The ground was shifted and cracked into sections, dried ooze painted around them. He almost forgot about the monsters roaming around outside, though it seemed the amusement park was safely deserted.

Slapping the side of his head, Kinger remembered his mission: Zooble’s room.

Kinger couldn't help but think, despite his attempts to prevent doing so. It was unbelievably infuriating to not even know what he was supposed to be thinking about. He knew there had to be mysteries that should be eating away at him, he just hadn't a clue what needed to be known. And that ate away from him.

He was almost grateful when his thought process ground to a halt. He couldn't see past the stands from inside, but standing at the front gate, he got to catch sight of around 50 abstractions roaming the circus. He wasn't sure there were that many people in the circus- ever.

“So, are you like- 8 years old? Because I'm not going to stop cursing either way.”

“No, no. The Circus only allows entrants above the age of 18!” Joyce blinked. “I don't know how I know that. Anyway, I think entering the circus must’ve frazzled my brain-stuffs. If I can believe you about this whole ‘gender’ thing,” Joyce attempted to do air quotes, but it just looked like clicking tongs together. “I just find it quite hard to believe. When was this decided? Was there a meeting I wasn't invited to? And they decided that you’re referred to as, for the rest of time, coincides with what one of your body parts happens to be?”

“Listen, that’s a talk for another time, I’m sure. There’s a lot more that needs to be discussed, cause I'm assuming that Kinger didn't have the foresight to ask you anything.

“Your first day entering the circus. Tell me everything .”

“Alright, let me try and remember,” Joyce said, scratching his head. It made a very unpleasant metal screech. “The first thing I remember is waking up with the knowledge that I put on one of those new-fangled headset thingies. I don't remember doing it, but my brain does.”

“Yeah, no, that’s normal. Keep going.”

“Uh… Nothing really happened after, though. I just walked around and explored for a bit, explored my body, and went to sleep.”

“First off, absolutely do NOT refer to ‘getting used to your digital form’ like THAT ever again. For the love of GOD. But that helps a shit-ton, I think. 

“You were completely alone, correct? No other cast members, no Caine, no nothing? How long were you alone, if you can estimate?”

“Oh, I can answer that! I have an amazing internal clock.”

“Congrats.”

“Around 5 years, rounding down.” 

“Wh- What?! 5 years? Years? 5 of them? 365 days? 5 times over?”

“Yes! I understand the confusion, but this place doesn't calculate leap years.”

“How- How the fuck? What did you even do for that long?”

“Mostly amusement park rides.” Joyce leaned in close to Zooble and whispered. “Just between you and me… If you want a really good time? Ride the brown horse with white spots on the Merry-Go-Round. Goes about an inch higher than the others.”

“Gee, thanks,” Zooble said, rolling their eyes. “Did you not worry about leaving at all? What kind of hellscape you ended up in? Why you look like… That?” 

“Nope! I’m not sure why. Maybe, the same way coming in changed my body, it also changed my personality to be more happy-go-lucky. And if it did, I wouldn't worry about it. It’s just in my nature!”

“Are you not worried about what's happening out there in the real world? What friends and family you’ve left out there?”

“If I had any of those, they would've gotten me out by now, or at least put on the headset thingy themselves. In fact, I could've put it on myself to find someone! I have a statistically higher chance to be your mother than any other person.”

“That’s- no. Absolutely not.”

“Actually, there is another thing I always think to myself to keep the ol’ morale high. Every choice I make is mine and mine alone, and no one could take that from me. This place might limit a lot of things, it might have even changed my thought process and natural disposition. But that's still me making those choices. Whether that ‘me’ is Joyce or whoever I was before this, the Circus can’t take that from me.”

“That… Does not make any fuckin’ sense, but you do you. Next question…” Zooble thought to themselves for a moment when their sight transfixed on Joyce’s shoulder. “That screw, right there. Is that removable?”

“Yep! Most of my body parts are!”

“Hm. Could you do me a favor then? I think I'll go insane if I have to lay here for another minute. Is it possible for you to remove your own head, and replace it with mine?” 

“Wouldn't my body just clatter to the floor without a head?”

“Nah, it doesn't work like that here, I would know. If I'm not compatible with whatever screw type you got, you can just put your head back on, no biggie. Well, not a biggie for you.”

“Well, if that’s something you really want. What else is a mom for?”

“What? No, shut up.”

Joyce took a deep breath and placed their claws on either side of their head. The heavy cube began to spin as they unscrewed it. With a pop, it came completely free, held high above their head.

Joyce’s body clattered to the floor due to the lack of a head. Their head rolled to a stop in front of Zooble, stuck on its side.

“...Huh,” was all Zooble could muster. “I guess… you work differently.”

Kinger clasped his hands together and put his index fingers to where his lips would be. Planning was never his specialty, especially when under pressure. 

He could run for it? But the main tent was pretty far away. Some amount of feet, for sure. 

Could he blend in with the grass, like the wiley Katydid? No, he’d have to color his cloak green, and that color just didn't suit him. 

Could he pretend to be toxic like the elegant Viceroy butterfly? How would he do that, though? Wear a sign around his neck that says ‘Do not eat me, I am filled with toxic chemicals?’

…

Stringing the makeshift sign around his neck, he took a cautious step through the gate. There was a clear path to the tent in front of him; every abstraction was off in the distance, stomping around in the forest or splashing in the digital lake. 

He took another step. And another. It wasn't really steps, being more of a glide, but he still did it cautiously.

It was a long and extremely stressful process, but Kinger made it to the front entrance. Either the sign worked, or he got extremely, extremely lucky.

He hunched over, cautiously looking around as he entered. The debris from the campfire still littered the ground; some of it was embedded halfway in the floor. 

Kinger was more interested in the pillows that lay among them, the remains of his mighty fort. He had gone far too long without it. 

Collecting it in his invisible inventory, he snuck around the surroundings. He didn't know for sure if any more of those things were patrolling here, but with the heavy footsteps in the distance, he could make a pretty good guess.

“What? What happened?” Joyce asked, trying fruitlessly to turn their head.

“Did you not, ONCE, try and take your head off? How did you not discover this?!”

“I didn't have a chance, my schedule was packed!”

“With fuckin’ what? Carnival games?”

“Yes.”

A long awkward silence filled the air before Zooble spoke up again.

“...I have more questions if you’re up for it.”

“Alright! Go ahead.”

“Uh- alright,” Zooble said, trying to collect their thoughts. “So. What’s up with that book?”

“The one I pulled out?” Joyce asked. Zooble recognized the red ribbon that tied it as Gangle’s but kept quiet. “I found it on the floor somewhere, and I don't have much else to read. I think it's someone’s diary, but it's entertaining enough!” 

“Hm. I cannot believe Jax never found that.”

“Oh, there’s a lot about him too!” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. How violent is it?”

“What?”

“Moving on! Uh… How exactly did I… Get here? Kinger said I abstracted or some shit? I… probably should've asked about that before the book. ” 

“Well, if that’s what he calls it, then yes! We swore at you till you exploded to normal.”

“...Really? That’s all? All you had to do was let out some ‘motherfuckers’ to reverse their monster-fication, and Caine was just- Absolutely CHUCKING those bastards in the cellar?

“But if there is a way to reverse abstraction, that sounds like something we absolutely need to investigate.” Zooble had already come to terms with all of their friends dying, but the possibility of bringing them back was something they could get excited about. Despite being trapped in a digital hell forever, Zooble had yet to take a single step up Lazlo's hierarchy of needs. 

“And by ‘we,’ I mean me exclusively once I get my body parts back. No offense, but I don't think you’ll have many good theories.”

“Maybe it was the power of love? That’s always a good option.”

“What, so I'm in love with cussing then? …Huh.

“Whatever, last question. When, and how, did you mean Kinger? You do know his name, right?”

“Oh, that was just yesterday! In his words, he was ‘shot out of The Dark Vein.’ Then it was a fun 30 minutes of showing him around the circus before going to bed!”

“That’s… A lot to unpack.”

“That’s not all, though! Once we woke up, we got access to the sludge! That was fun, but another George showed up and we had to cheese it to the amusement park. Then something happened with the ground splitting open, yadda yadda, now we’re here!”

Zooble widened their eyes slightly. “Wasn’t it established that the- that ‘George’ is…?”

“Those big eye things, yes! There a whole load of them, twisting along the walls, covering every surface.”

Zooble simply looked forward, towards nothing, the look of death in their eyes. “...I- I sent that motherfucker out there to die. Oh god, look at us! We're stuck here forever! I have to stare at your stupid fuckin’- sideways face and talk about stupid roller coasters in a pile of burnt cardboard until my brain decides to off itself!”

“Wow. That’s a bit rude. You shouldn't talk to your mom that way.”

“YOU’RE NOT MY MOM, GODDAMNIT!”

Everything was still overrun with the awful vines. The eyes bore into the back of Kinger’s head. 

He stepped into the cast hallway where he first emerged. Finally making it to Zooble’s door, he gripped the handle, and-

It was locked.

That should've been obvious to Kinger; everyone’s doors automatically locked after about 30 minutes. He figured that out himself while trying to...

He shook his head, frustrated. What a waste of time. He needed a break.

He slid against the wall and took a deep breath. While the surroundings of the tunnel of love made something awful bubble at the edge of his throat, the muted colors of the long-abandoned tent and the images on the doors made him feel… Wistful. 

What… Happened? He’s been here before, right? The memory was eating at the edge of his brain. 

The stomping grew in volume, making Kinger shrink in his cloak before it faded away. He almost forgot that he was one mistake away from being obliterated. Kinger anxiously pulled out all of the pillows, rapidly building his fort. They stuck together like glue.

He crawled into the soft dome, calming down. He could finally think in peace.

What was he thinking about?

Kinger leaned back. He was about to be infuriated, but, like always, he was distracted by a shiny thing. Specifically a glint of red from his pocket. 

Pulling it out, Kinger recalled the book he picked up at the tunnel. He removed the ribbon that kept it closed, instinctively. Not like he had anything better to do. Did he have something better to do? Oh well.

The book had a small gap between the pages, showing something had been shoved between them. Intrigued, Kinger opened to that page. There was a small brown key, taped to the page, with an entry written above.

day 46:

 

first thing this morning, jax knocked off my comedy mask. i had just peeked out of my door while he was walking by, and without slowing down, he slapped the back of my head.

 

no matter dwelling on the past though its fine now! zooble fixed it againnn i really owe them so much at this point. That was accompanied by a small doodle of their head.

 

i dont really remember caines adventure now due to being sad the whole time :( but i know our team did really well! ragatha was the mvp i think

 

the most interesting part though was afterwards, after zooble fixed my mask. kinger knocked on my door right after zooble left (idk why i didnt ask them to stay!!! ugh im so bad at this >.<) and asked if he could confide in me

 

he gave me this key and asked if i could keep it for him. he said it contained too many good memories and that i would be the most trustworthy without trying to get him to talk about it

 

i guess he was right cause i didnt! sorry ragatha i wasnt sure what to do he sounded like he was about to cry D: im not sure why he would want to get rid of something with good memories but hes a very odd guy all around!

Kinger peeled off the tape holding it in place. He didn't recall ever doing this, or even seeing this key in his life. If he did give it away, he was sure she wouldn't mind if he took it back.

He turned it around in his hands. He couldn't tell what it was made of; code and data, he supposed. It had a beautiful brown pattern in it, like a freshly-sanded oak desk. He loved the pattern. It was so pretty. 

His breath picked up. He needed to find out what this opened, immediately. 

Peering out of the fortress, no danger was apparent to Kinger. If he owned the key, then perhaps it went with his room. It was the only guess he could come up with. 

He dropped the diary on the floor once he got there. Fumbling with the key as his breath caught in his throat, Kinger slid it into his lock.

Click.

The door opened slightly. Kinger shakily placed the key back into his cloak pocket and pushed it open.

It was his room, alright. It was pristine, exactly how he remembered it. Insect display cases hung on the wall, the entomologist ‘degree’ that Caine made for him was displayed proudly over his desk, and a curtain draped over one side of the room.

Kinger curiously looked at the curtain. It draped over a double bed lengthways, turning it into something only one person could sleep in. The curtain was hanging from the ceiling, covering the right-most wall. 

If there was a wall there. 

He had to see what was behind it. Now. 

Kinger gripped it and pulled it down.

“AND I, PRESENT TO YOU, YOUR NEW ROOM!”

Caine presented the room to the couple with sweeping hand gestures. “I'VE NEVER HEARD OF THIS WHOLE ‘MARRIAGE’ THING BEFORE, BUT AFTER RECIEVING A BOATLOAD OF YOUR SUGGESTIONS, I CAN SEE HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS TO YOU! AS YOUR RINGMASTER, I HAVE GRACIOUSLY OBLIGED!”

Kinger and Queenie held each other's hands as they walked inside. Their rooms appeared the same, but Caine had knocked down the wall dividing them, and replaced their beds with one king-sized in the middle. 

There was a pun to be made there, but neither of them could figure out a way to work it into a joke. 

Queenie’s dark oak and Kinger’s pale wood rooms made it look like a sitcom line-down-the-middle situation.

“Oh, wow! This is actually very kind of you!” Queenie complimented, smoothing down the blankets on their new bed. Kinger nodded in agreement. “Thank you.”

“OH, DON’T MENTION IT! THAT’S JUST MY JOB! ENJOY SLEEPING 5 INCHES AWAY FROM EACH OTHER, AS YOUR KIND SEEMS TO LIKE!” Caine snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving confetti behind. Kinger would clean that up later.

Queenie flopped onto the bed with a satisfied huff. She turned to Kinger, motioning him over to the bed. He tensed up straight and shuffled over.

“Well. Isn't this nice?” She said as Kinger slid next to her. He got lost in her calm, gentle, brown eyes as she did the same in his piercing, unflinching, blue eyes. 

“It’s exactly what I was hoping it would be.”

They both clinked their heads together.

“I hope this doesn't dampen the mood, but I can deal with this whole… ‘Circus’ thing a lot better when I’m with you. I’d be fine spending forever here if it means that I’m with you,” Queenie admitted, making Kinger’s eyes nearly well up with tears.

“R-really?”

“Really. I wouldn't want to spend forever without you. I wouldn't want to spend forever without you.”

“Huh? Did you just say that twice?” Kinger chuckled confusedly. “I think we must be very tired.”

“I wouldn't want to spend forever without you.”

“Honey?” Kinger tried to reach out and touch her shoulder, but no matter how hard he tried, she was just out of reach.

“Forever.” 

“Wh -What?” 

Kinger tried to crawl over to her, but he felt the blankets fall beneath him. He plummeted, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The air failed to reach his lungs. He couldn't even scream if he wanted to.

He reached some sort of ground and quickly collapsed, gasping. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked up. Everything was still pitch black, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes, tight. He could hear scuttling and whispers in the darkness. 

Still, he could not find the strength to stand up. The whispers turned to shouts in his pounding head. He could feel cold hands traveling up and down his spine, hot breath on his neck as eyes peered deep within his soul.

Stomping grew louder. Kinger knew something was approaching him, but he couldn't force his eyes to open. It got closer and closer; Kinger could tell it was just inches away. It reached out, and 

It was the day after Gangle had abstracted and Zooble stormed off. They were still holed up in their room, and Jax was doing the same. 

Kinger was the only one to show up that day, just so Caine could announce that there wouldn't be an adventure today. In all of Kinger’s years at the circus, he couldn't recall the last time a day was skipped.

That gave him time to himself. Time to think. Time to reflect. He didn't like those things anymore. 

He didn't want to remember her, he didn't. All he could do was stay alive, and he knew that any form of mourning was punished heavily by the circus. So he didn't. He pushed everything down, down to the deepest recesses of his psyche, never to be unearthed. 

Later that same day, he found himself in his room, pulling the curtain aside. 

He didn't sleep in his room anymore, even with Caine’s courtesy curtain. He would rather be in his impenetrable fortress, somewhere far, far away. 

His hands shook violently as he held a framed picture of Queenie and him, in the middle of her long abandoned room. He still remembers everything about her. He gripped the photo harder, feeling the glass crack. 

Then everything went dark.

When he came back, he was still surrounded by darkness on all sides. He could hear his own thoughts again.

He had to get out of there.

Wobbling to his feet, he tried to take in his surroundings. That was a fool’s errand, as there was nothing to be observed. And what could be observed, didn't want to be.

He shut his eyes again and gripped the sides of his head, sprinting in a random direction as fast as he could. It felt like wading through quicksand.

Something was chasing him, that much was clear. But the further he ran, the louder it got, the closer it felt. The metaphorical quicksand was up to his neck, and he couldn't keep going. 

Again, he fell to his knees and wept. Whatever goal he was rushing towards felt further away than ever, and he couldn't manage anymore. His eyes struggled to open, but once they were, he couldn't see a light at the end of the tunnel.

He turned around to face whatever had caught up to him. 

It looked just like her. After what happened.

He scrambled on his back, his hands slipping against the floor. It was inches away, towering above with the look of death in its many eyes. 

This isn't how he wanted to remember her. 

In Kinger’s final moments, he wanted to remember her. Her calm eyes and soothing voice, the way she would listen to him. The way she encouraged him to talk about bugs, and her own interest in math. 

Kinger forced his eyes open and transfixed his gaze on the creature. It stopped moving, frozen in place.

The way she would wrap him up in her cloak when he cried, the fact she would fight for him. The initiative she took to make sure they were both happy and healthy. 

Kinger didn't break his gaze for a second. He stood to his feet as the darkness around him faded. The creature took a step back.

The way she would want him to keep going.

Kinger’s eyes shot open as he sat up, gasping. He was in his room, sitting on the floor and facing where the curtain once hung. 

It was Queenie’s side of the room, covered head to toe in years old frantic scribbles and indecipherable drawings, all in his own handwriting. 

There was a picture frame laid face down, which Kinger quickly retrieved. It was a picture of him and Queenie that she took; he was caught off guard by how she pulled him close and snapped a pic, which you could see clearly. The frame’s glass was shattered.

He pulled out the picture and pocketed it. Sadness welled in his throat, but, for the first time, he didn't swallow it down. 

Kinger remembered her vividly. Her name, her voice, everything he once wanted to forget. All of the other members and friends she never got to meet.

The fog that surrounded his thoughts got clearer and clearer, before stopping short. He guessed that was the fog he always had. 

It was still a lot of fog.

Speaking of which, Kinger realized that he was supposed to be somewhere at the moment. 

The surroundings were clear, all the aggressive stomping sounded far away. Kinger exited his room, leaving the door open in a rush. 

Collecting his pillow fort, he cautiously made his way back to the entrance. The abstractions loomed in the distance, but he already had a genius idea.

He took his fortress out of whatever pocket dimension he kept it in; he had no idea how he did it either; and removed the bottom. Placing it over his head, he crouched down and started to inch forward. He remembered this from a video game he couldn't remember! 

“...You know what the worst part is?” Zooble spoke up, breaking the somber silence.

“What?”

“Now that the censoring is gone, I could've done the thing I've always wanted to do with my stupid body. Really, the only upside of that eye-straining shit-storm.

“I wanted to remove one of my antenna thingies on my head, and… And like… Put it in the approximate area that my crotch should be.”

“...What?”

“Like- Like I know it wouldn't be that funny! It's just… The inability to do so drives me crazy. Now whatever profanity blocker that was the bane of my existence is gone, and nothing would stop me from doing it.”

“...”

“...And ANOTHER thing! The circus somehow knew, they fucking knew, that slapping a censor bar over it would have an even better comedic effect. So they just- just teleported the thing back onto my head. God, it's just- Now I’m stuck in a pile of burnt, soggy cardboard for the rest of my life with the knowledge that I could.”

The somber silence returned, floating above them. Somber for Zooble, as Joyce was more confused than anything. 

“Hello again!”

“GAH!” Zooble exclaimed in surprise as Kinger slowly floated into sight. “Oh. Hello. Good to see you.”

“What? Who is it?” Joyce asked, attempting to turn around. 

Kinger floated over the gap, joining the scene of chaos. “It’s Kinger. May I ask what happened to you, Joyce?”

“Oh, you know.”

“...”

“...”

“...Alright. Do you want me to put your head back on?”

“Very much so.”

Kinger struggled to lift the solid metal cube that was Joyce’s head, but managed to screw it back onto their slumped-over body. 

“So, Kinger,” Zooble said, getting Kinger’s attention; Joyce was busy doing a stereotypical stretch routine. “I noticed that you don’t have- uh- that’s… I won't?” 

“Hm?” Kinger followed their gaze, realizing that he was still wearing the ‘Do not eat me, I am filled with toxic chemicals’ sign he made. He took it off and placed it on the floor. “Oh. Ignore that.”

“...As I was saying, I noticed that you didn't bring a single one of my body parts. I hope there’s a damn good explanation for that.”

“That there is! Your door is locked.”

“Oh. Shit, that makes a lot of sense, sorry.” To add insult to injury, Zooble reflexively tried to reach up and scratch the back of their head. “What happened out there? You were M.I.A. for like an hour.”

“Ah, that. Yes, I found the key to my room, and went on some sort of horrifying vision quest. My dead wife chased me through a suffocating abyss, and only when I looked at her face to face was I able to regain consciousness.”

“...Oh. I’m… Sorry to hear that. I don't think I've ever heard you mention her.”

“I know, I know.” Kinger turned around and pulled their picture out, lightly tracing his fingers over it. “I didn't want to mention her either. I’ve learned that was what caused my abstraction, and I don't want to throw away my second chance. I want to learn from it, from her . The first step is to accept what happened, that she abstracted and won't ever come back.”

Joyce didn't stop stretching to respond. “Oh, actually, Zooble and I were just talking about how to reverse abstr-”

“AHEM, COUGH-COUGH,” Zooble quickly interjected with a bout of fake coughing. “Sorry, something was just caught in my throat. The one I… don't have.”

Kinger stopped in thought for a moment. 

“Maybe you need some fresh air? I made sure the boat is fully operational.”

“Wait, isn't it dangerous out there? I heard there was like, 500 fuckin’ abstraction things ready to tear us to shreds out there.”

“Oh my, yes. Let’s go!”

Zooble was unable to protest as everyone piled into the boat, Kinger carrying them delicately. The boat had a noticeable tilt on Joyce’s side. Once the safety bar was lowered, the raft lurched forward, into the darkness. 

The distant stomping became less and less distant as the creature investigated the only stimuli it could track. 

The creature looked the same as all the others, of course, just shaped differently. It was built upon four legs; two strong hind legs behind it. The only piece of color other than the neon eyes was a small piece of red ribbon tied around one of its feet.

Sniffing the air, it could tell that some form of life had been here. It followed the trail down the hall, before focusing in on an object. A small book wrapped in ribbons.

Normally, an abstraction wouldn't pay any mind to it. At most, it would stomp it into the dirt. Instead, it couldn't help but freeze when looking at it. 

It shouldn't have been able to focus its vision on anything for more than 5 seconds, let alone read. But the last memory that was left in the deep recesses of its mind sparked. Something to do with loneliness and guilt.

It crouched down, one of its many eyes transfixed on Gangle’s private entries. Its primitive mind began to race, already forgetting the unearthed guilt; quickly replaced with excitement. The possibilities this one book could open! 

He began to remember what those possibilities were. The mischief, the chaos, the tormenting. He couldn't wait to get his hands on it.

And that he did, gripping it in his yellow gloves. Jax’s childish delight faded rapidly once he realized where he was.

Chapter Text

“Hey? Hey Zooble? Zoobs? Z-man?” 

Jax continued to knock on their door. No response. He groaned, leaning his head against the wood. “C’mon, you need to come out eventually. Caine’s gonna make you anyway, you’re lucky I'm trying to prevent that.”

Still, no response. Jax knew Zooble was fine, they did this every morning since he met them. Still, he was bored, and Zooble would usually respond with a snarky comment at the very least. 

He threw his hands up for no one to see and took a step back. “Fine. Whatever. I can unlock this door any time I want, I'm holding back for your sake. You sho-”

Jax felt a powerful grip on his shoulders before being whisked away. Colors and noises attacked every single one of his senses in just a few moments before he returned to normalcy. He landed on his feet, head spinning as his eyes adjusted to the colors of the main tent. Despite doing it nearly every day, he never got used to it.

“What, no theme song?” Jax quipped, regaining his composure. Like always, Caine was floating in front of them. Zooble was also teleported with him, and, like always, they were a pile of limbs on the floor. Caine probably should've fixed that by now.

“MY APOLOGIES, BUT YES. WE’RE GOING TO NEED TO REWORK IT FOR OUR CURRENT… SIZE. BUBBLE WILL HAVE SOMETHING FINISHED BY TOMORROW, DON’T YOU WORRY!” Caine clapped his hands together excitedly. “ON THE UPSIDE, WE CAN JUMP RIGHT INTO THE ADVENTURE!” 

Both of the crew members were silent. 

“GREAT! TODAY, YOU WILL BE HELPING THIS POOR, POOR CREATURE!” The curtains to the stage closed for just a moment before revealing a giant blob. It looked like a depressed polka-dot bean bag chair. “SOME NE'ER-DO-WELL STOLE EVERY ONE OF THIS POOR MOTHER’S CHILDREN! THE AFOREMENTIONED NE’ER-DO-WELL HAS STASHED THEM ALL AROUND THE CIRCUS! I'VE ALREADY PROMISED THAT YOU’D HELP, SOOOO…” 

“Well, I’ll help you, but I think we both know where Zooble’s gonna go,” Jax chuckled. He had to make banter with Caine now. Miserable. He turned to his side, expecting Zooble to be standing there for him to elbow, but they were not. Standing, that is. The pile was still laid at his feet. 

“AW, THEY’RE SLEEPING! LIKE A BABY.”

“I don't know why you saying that is gross, but gross,” Jax said. Jax kicked all the limbs out of the way before crouching down. Caine was, for once, right about the human function Zooble was currently performing. He snapped his fingers in front of Zooble’s face, making her mismatched eyelids twitch. 

“Hey, sleepy head, wake up.”

“Mhm… Bwuh… I don't- huh?” Zooble sleepily murmured. “Is it time already? I don't wanna sing.”

“Yeah, well, today’s your lucky day. If you'd like to get up, we have things to do. Rise and grind, sunshine, Caine’s breathing down the back of my neck.” 

“YOU SHOULD KNOW I CAN’T BREATH!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I… Are they asleep again?” 

Zooble’s eyes were shut again, heavy breath coming from an invisible mouth under their eyes. Jax groaned and shook their head, still lying on the ground. 

“Guh- Hm? Oh. I… Uh. What?” 

“AD. VEN. TURE. Another scavenger hunt, Caine’s gettin' lazy. I’d like for you to help get it over with, preferably before the next month. There's- Zooble!” 

Zooble had already closed their eyes again. “Mnh, yuh-huh,” they mumbled, not opening their eyes. 

Jax silently swore, providing a sound effect-less censor bar over his mouth. Sweeping the various multicolored parts towards himself, he made a… Close enough approximation of Zooble. “There, crybaby. You happy? You want me to make your bed too? Maybe spoon-feed you some applesauce?”

“Crmbubn, Gnmgluh…” With eyes half opened, Zooble used their new body to lean on their side and promptly drift off to sleep.

“Jesus Christ-mas,” Jax complained. He told Caine that’s how his hometown of ‘New Cityville’ pronounced Christmas, therefore it shouldn't be censored. “WAKE UP! THE ADVENTURE’S OVER! I FIGURED OUT HOW TO GET OUT! I'M BEING MEAN TO GANGLE AGAIN! YEAH! I BROUGHT HER BACK TO LIFE TO BE MEAN AGAIN!” 

“NOBODY IS DEAD, JAX, THEY’RE FINE! I'VE TOLD YOU PLENTY OF TIMES!”

Zooble only mumbled something incomprehensible in their sleep again.

“Caine, do your job and fix them,” Jax demanded, turning to the ringmaster awkwardly watching everything unfold over his shoulder. “Inject 50 CCs of high-quality glossy caffeine JPEGs directly into their spine or whatever, I’m getting bored.”

“I'll DO WHAT I CAN!” He boisterously exclaimed, snapping his fingers. Can you even snap with gloves on? 

Slowly, a blanket gently floated down like a feather, draping around Zooble. Jax’s face twisted in disbelief. “THEY’LL BE WELL RESTED IN NO TIME! BUT WHILE WE WAIT, JAX, HOW ABOUT WE-”

“No. &@%# her kids. I’m gonna rifle around Zooble’s room.” Jax turned tail, walking away. On the way, he pulled Zooble’s blanket off and tossed it away.

The boat finally slowed to a stop after what felt like an eternity of broken audio and shoddy set pieces. Zooble noticed the broken skybox first, mostly due to how Kinger was holding them face up. 

“Wow. I appreciate the more muted color scheme, but it looks like death out here,” Zooble admitted once Kinger stepped out of the boat and flipped them over. Many of the game stalls had collapsed due to the shifting ground, and huge abstractions loomed in the distance. How Kinger wasn't immediately obliterated boggled their mind. 

The group walked through the ruined amusement park, taking in the surroundings. The massive fissures in the ground seemed to have healed themselves, with the help of more of the abstract substance wedged between like concrete. The type of concrete that’s in between the sidewalk in a school’s bus loop, and while waiting for your bus, you sit down and poke at it cause it’s slightly squishy and your 3DS is out of battery. Only with, like, fifty percent more eyes.

Kinger set down Zooble’s head on a non-ruined carnival game’s counter to close the front gates. Caine had surrounded the entire place with fences after Jax used the baseball cannon to terrorize everyone else. He already made it so the cannon couldn't leave the park grounds, but Jax managed to set up an elaborate series of trampolines to fire at the main grounds. It was impressive for a moment, followed quickly by panic and annoyance.

“So. What now?” Kinger asked Zooble, returning to the others. Joyce was repeatedly rolling a baseball down Zooble’s head; attempting to, at least. It kept falling off the side due to their antennae.

“I guess it makes sense I would be the leader out of the three of you, huh?” They huffed. Zooble was very interested in investigating unabstraction; being able to make a noticeable difference to this hell, other than helping a computer program complete their fake quests, excited them greatly. However, with Kinger recently realizing that he became a widow years ago, they decided to save that for later.

“There’s gotta be a way to force ourselves into my room. Can't we just jump and crouch against it in some specific way? Throw a bomb and grab it again? Drive a car into a swing set?”

“It’s a door!” Joyce helpfully added, continuing to place the ball back at the top. “Doors are made to be opened! Right? Right. Right?.” 

“...Yeah. Thanks for the advice.” Joyce beamed happily at their sarcastic remark, panging Zooble with guilt. They forced themselves to continue. “...But unfortunately, the door is locked tight, and the key is somewhere on my body. Which is currently some tiny creature running around breaking shit. So I’m almost ninety percent sure that we are not finding a legitimate way into that room.”

Jax pulled out his key ring, flipping through the dozens of keys that went to every room in this circus. Landing on his own, he opened the door to his room. He didn't know what he expected, but it was a giant mess.

His various knick-knacks and stolen goods littered the floor, and scrawling messages about abandonment and loneliness littered the walls. Jax scowled. He hoped that wasn't his ramblings; he wasn't that much of a pussy, right?

Whistling a tune, he tossed the diary onto his bed. That’d be fun to read later. Alongside that, he quickly shut the closet door without looking inside; you’d have to be some sort of psychopath to leave a dark closet open, especially a walk-in one as he had. Realizing there was nothing else to be done, he left his room and instinctively locked the door behind him.

His whistling faded when he felt something else brush against his hand whilst putting his keyring into his pocket. Taking it out, it was the piece of ribbon he tore off of Gangle. It was wrapped around his hand when he unabstracted, and he chose to put it away, out of sight. Seeing the glowing eyes peering out of the walls while holding the ribbon, a cold chill shot up his spine as it fully sunk in.

“Caine?” Jax whispered, poking his head out of his room. If Caine was okay, he should be able to hear his name being called and teleport anywhere that wasn't their rooms, no matter the volume. Yet, it was not heard.

Jax wasn't an idiot; he could fill in the blanks. He remembered being the last one left, then waking up with a book in his hands. He assumed he abstracted, then somehow wasn't that. He was used to not knowing much, but he felt a lot of questions were unanswered in his mind.

Glaring down at the ribbon, he frowned. Holding it up, he wrapped it around his head and tied it in the back. There wasn't any point in doing that other than trying to look cool, and Jax certainly thought he did.

Jax was planning on doing a quick sweep of the entire circus grounds before being more thorough, but after taking a single look outside of the tent, he realized that wasn't going to be a possibility. The abstractions patrolling around did confirm his theory at the very least. He would have to search every room of the tent for any clue.

He probably wouldn't find any, would he? He was just so unbelievably bored. He was not one to defend Caine, but he gave them something to do, an adventure. Usually serving as props for pranks, in his case.

He peeked in and out of the ‘public’ rooms; the ones connected to the main room filled with random activities. There were plenty of weirdo rooms that nobody had a clue why Caine made them, but most were suggestions from cast members. In fact, there were only 4 weirdo rooms: The boxing glove, the merry-go-round tower, the bathtub, and the quote-unquote ‘aquarium.’ If you opened 4 rooms in a row and only got the weird ones? You’d have to be like, super-ultra unlucky. Or accidentally open the same one twice.

…Jax suggested Caine add the boxing glove room.

But there was the music room, filled with various instruments. The movie room had plenty of royalty-free film reels to project on the wall. There was also a room with Caine’s face on it, like the other cast member doors, but it was and remained locked. Caine’s face wasn't crossed out, but that was probably a manual system, given how Jax’s door still considered him dead. 

You had the rec room, filled with Among Us level menial minigames. Jax couldn't believe he could remember Among Us but not his face. A public kitchen, for those that don't trust Bubble. Even a billiards room! Everyone who entered that room for the first time would get so excited, thinking it was a bar, only to realize that it was exclusively for Pool. There was also a room with a pool in it, for people wanting to drown themselves without going outside.

All the rooms were normal, apart from the less vibrant colors and the malfunctioning mannequin NPCs. The last thing for him to investigate was the library, where you could read some awful royalty-free books and mangas, the latter of which Jax had to tear up every morning when it was restored. Gangle would have to wake up real early if she wanted to read her anime bullshit.

That was what was supposed to be there, anyway. Jax approached where the room was supposed to be, but what he saw instead was most of the wall corroded away; the edges of which glitched in and out of reality. The library’s interior walls, ceiling, and floor were completely covered with the abstraction junk. It seemed like all the vines that infested the circus came from here. 

Jax stepped onto the vines, entering the library. Every eye locked onto him, making him sweat. It wasn't recognizable as a library anymore; not a single shelf or book remained. The main attraction, though, was the giant Hole situated in the middle of the room. 

It immediately clicked in his mind as the cellar. 

He peered into it. It was pitch black, even darker than the last time he saw it. Which could've been years ago, as far as he knew. The only thing he could see were the eyes peering at him, located on the veins that snaked up and out of the Hole. It looked like the cellar expanded for miles in all directions, and, if he listened closely, he could swear he heard a heartbeat.

Jax frowned with an impatient look on his face. Great, he knew that the abstraction things came from the abstraction Hole. Wow, what a revelation. 

He grouchily walked back into the main area. Everything was so boring without anyone to torment. He could probably toss all of Gangle’s belongings into the Hole, that’d make him feel better.

Suddenly, his ears perked up at the sound of distant murmurs. The one good thing about his rabbit body was his improved hearing. Perfect for blackmail. 

Do rabbits even have better hearing or are the ears just meant for heat regulation, Jax wondered. Caine thought that they could hear better, and that's all that mattered, he supposed.

That was beside the point; Jax could tell whoever or whatever was talking was approaching, about to reach the entrance. Hiding behind a giant toy block, he quietly watched.

“This should not be working this well,” Zooble whispered.

They were currently being carried by Kinger as they trotted along, towards the circus. The three of them decided the best course of action was to jam Zooble’s head against their door until they clipped through. From there, they would be able to control the nearest limbs and finally have their body back. The doors are locked on both sides, but their spare body should hopefully contain a key in one of its hammerspace pockets, allowing them to leave the room.

That was the plan, anyway. The group's plan to get to the circus was just as expertly crafted. Everyone squeezed into Kinger’s pillow fort and crawled towards the goal. So now, if any abstraction saw them, they’d just think it was a moving pile of pillows.

Kinger said he did this on the way back, and that's why the bottom was already removed, but none of that eased Zooble’s fear. Despite their worries, Kinger had just announced that they'd nearly made it. 

Kinger’s eyes acted much like his hands, seemingly connected with an infinitely stretchy, collision-less string. Using that, Kinger had only his eyes outside of the fort.

The floor beneath them turned from fake grass to a fake checkerboard pattern. Kinger handed off Zooble’s head to Joyce’s claws before he lifted the cover, allowing his eyes to get back in place before removing the fort. 

“Wow, so this is the circus, huh? Nice place,” Joyce complimented. Kinger rubbed his eyes, rolling them against his fluffy coat like he was shining an apple.

“You’ve lived here for 5 years.”

“Oh! That’s even better!”

“I can't believe I’m saying this, but I’m- Hey! Kinger! Kinger.” Kinger started to wander away, forcing Zooble to call him back like a misbehaving dog. Once he returned, Zooble continued, exasperated. “...I’m glad to see the circus again. Something familiar.” They looked down at one of the veins. “Familiar-ish.”

Well, aren't they just a wacky collection of characters?

Jax scoffed silently and pulled his head back into cover. He wasn't completely alone, something that should've reassured him, but he knew absolutely could not, under no conditions, show his face. That’s what he thought at least. Zooble could've told them anything.

They would've said that he was ‘awful’ and ‘the worst person they ever met,’ Kinger and the robo-newbie wouldn't know any better. They would've told stories about what he did to Gangle and… all the other stuff. They didn't know him! They wouldn't get it. He’s come too far to go back now.

Thankfully, he didn't need to show his face right away. He knew what he did best, and pulling out his key ring, he knew exactly how to do it. He wasn't going to be bored for long, that was for sure.

Joyce tightened their grip on Zooble. Due to their claw hands, they couldn't exactly hold them normally, so they let their head rest on their folded arms. Like a mother coddling their baby, which really makes you think.

“Kinger? Me and Joyce are going to try and get into my room,” Zooble explained, softly. “I would really appreciate it if you poked around a bit, see if there's any abstractions or shit. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes. I'm an adult, Zooble.”

“Oh... Alright. …Joyce? Could we go?” 

The only sounds reverberating through the empty tent were the creaking of Joyce’s joints, and the distant stomping from the grounds; a far cry from the constant noise of the old circus. 

“-And that's where I tripped over my feet for the eighth time! Oh, what an occasion,” Joyce said, gesturing over to the aforementioned area. “You could probably see the dent!”

“Mhm. Very enthralling. I appreciate the exposition, but could we please just get to my room?” 

“I’m taking the fastest route available, it’s a big tent!” Right on cue, Joyce turned the corner and approached the cast hallway. Zooble squinted their eyes toward their room as it came into view. The door was already open.

“It wasn't like that before, was it?” Zooble asked, hearing the awful scraping of Joyce’s head shaking. They cautiously stepped into the room. Their eyes widened at the bright multicolored walls and furniture. It was more stimuli than the past 5 years combined. 

Placing Zooble’s head on a lopsided dresser, Joyce started to search the room. 

“Is this your body?”

“That’s a lamp.”

“What about this?”

“That is, like, obviously a book.”

“And this?”

“That’s me. You picked up my head again. It’s- It’s just a cardboard box. The only brown color in this saturated hell. Scan me around, I can find it.” 

Joyce obliged, holding them out and swiveling. After a couple of go-arounds, even checking under the bed and inside the closet, Zooble couldn't see any sign of it. Worry festered in their mind. It would make sense that Caine would delete their body parts after they abstracted. Although, they personally knew that Gangle’s masks stuck around-

A sudden scream came from somewhere outside their room. It was immediately recognizable as Kinger’s; he yelped enough for it to be quickly identified. 

While Zooble was still processing what they heard, Joyce wasted no time sprinting out of the room, Zooble in tow. A heavy clank sounded with every step. In no time at all, they both found Kinger standing in front of the corroded entrance of the library. He seemed fine if not a bit rattled. They skidded to a stop beside him and followed his gaze inside.

“U-uh- Ahem. Hey. Long time no see.” Jax smoothed back his ears and shot a singular finger gun towards them. “Fancy seeing you here, and such.”

“...You have got to be shitting me.” If Zooble’s slight growl in their voice didn't express their feelings, the twitching of their antennae would've. Jax’s expression changed for just a moment, just enough to make it clear that he had no idea he could swear before Zooble said something.

“Wow, great job, Kinger. You blew my cover.” Jax gestured over to him.

“What? Jax? When did you get here?” Kinger said.

Zooble interrupted, quickly. “How the hell?- What are you wearing?”

Jax looked up at the piece of ribbon that he tied around his head. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Doesn't it make me look cooool? ” 

“You look like as much of a douche as you did before.” Zooble snapped. The other two were subjected to bystanders as they crossed swords. 

Despite the bickering, Zooble was almost excited to see him. They would've been more excited with any other person, but another person who must've come back from abstraction meant more information. Plus, having manpower that didn't have the mental capacity of an orange would probably be helpful. No offense.

That’s what they thought at first, for mere seconds. Their eyes traveled downward. Jax was standing on a tangled web of black veins where the library once was, inches from a giant hole. By his feet, freshly dropped, was a cardboard box labeled ‘Zooble.’ 

They immediately knew what was about to happen.

“J-Jax. You can’t. This isn't the- the time for this! There isn't- don’t- this isn’t a joke!” Zooble’s voice got more and more frantic as their pupils shrank. “I know- I know you might-”

“You better get your thoughts in a row, Zoobs. My patience is running thin.”

“P-Please. Please. I know that we might have had some… A lot of differences. Maybe I was wrong! All the mental scars can probably, maybe heal, but this can't be undone! Caine isn't here to undo this! Think about this, man!”

“Hm. Sure, let me do that.” Jax tapped a finger to his chin in mock thought. “...Whoops.”

Jax used the bottom of his foot to push the box of limbs backward; It tumbled over into the darkness of the cellar as everyone watched.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

“Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Jax said, giving a two-finger salute before dashing past Kinger. Seemingly woken up by that, he dashed over to the pit, kneeled over, and looked inside. Expectedly, he couldn't see anything, even when he grabbed his eye and shoved it down like a periscope.

“I SWEAR TO GOD IF I GET MY STUPID MISMATCHED HANDS ON YOU, I’M GOING TO ENTER SUCH A STATE, THAT NOT ONLY WILL THE CORONERS NOT BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY THE CAUSE OF DEATH, I WON’T EVEN REMEMBER!”

Joyce swiveled around to look at where Jax went, but he had already disappeared. Placing down the still screaming Zooble gently on the floor, they joined Kinger’s side. 

“Oh my goodness! That’s… Deep. Was this always here?” Kinger asked, turning to the robot. Despite not having eyebrows, his usually expressionless face was sick with worry.

“Oh, the Hole? Did I not show you this? Ah, geez, it must've totally slipped my mind…”

“-AND ONLY TWO FINGERS! NOT TO MENTION-” 

“That was Jax? Gosh, I hope he comes back soon. That must have been really embarrassing for him to run off like that.” Joyce continued. “We should get him some grippy socks! Slippery feet are dangerous when you’re dealing with the Hole.

“I wouldn't want a new friend to fall down there. Gosh, you showed up yesterday, and two more today? Do you think there’s going to be three tomorrow?”

“It is starting to feel like some sort of domino effect, I believe.”

“-WITH ONLY TEN MINUTES TO SPARE!”

“Zooble,” Kinger said, lifting his head and finally addressing them. “He already left.”

“I KNOW! I KNOW. I know.” Zooble took a long, drawn-out breath. “I… Ugh, god. Fuckin’...” Zooble yawned as their train of thought was derailed. Their eyelids felt like the weight of a bag of hammers as their brain was gripped with sudden sleepiness. “I’m really tired.” 

“Tired? Zooble, are you sure? A lot of significant events just took place, and we don't even need sleep here.”

“And yet, I'm tired. I think I’ll be-” Zooble cut themselves off with a yawn. It was becoming increasingly hard to keep their eyes open. “-believe my body over you. Just a quick nap.” 

“Are you sure you don't want to try and… Explore our options at this point? This is all very sudden.”

“Mhm, I'll do that once I’m awake. Trust me, I don't want this to happen either, right now. I just… hnrm.” Zooble closed their eyes, almost immediately drifting off to sleep. 

Joyce wasted no time grabbing Kinger’s fortress and placing it over their head. Kinger himself didn't know how he stored the fort on him, so however Joyce accessed it was a mystery. 

“Now, don't you worry! You go and ride the train to sleepytime junction, and we’ll have everything figured out once you’re awake.” Joyce was answered by half-coherent mumbles from inside the fort. “Sweet dreams!”

“...you’re nonm mm momn… fuck offnm…” 

“Love you too!” Joyce stood up excitedly. “So! What… What do we do?”

They both stood there; unmoving, aside from Kinger’s eyes nervously scanning around.

“I don't feel safe. Could something be done about that?” Kinger suggested. As he spoke, he got clearly more excited. “Maybe I should block off the entrance to the circus? Make- Make it one giant fort?” He began to involuntarily flap his hands.

“If that’s what you want, go ahead! Although I would like to meet up with that Jax fellow again, and I wouldn't want to accidentally trap him outside. He seems nice.” 

Jax locked the door behind him tight before flopping down onto his bed. He flipped through Gangle’s diary, reading intently. He started to get to some pretty juicy stuff about Zooble after pages and pages of her being afraid of him.

It did just slightly suck, reading it. Not like he was feeling bad or anything, just the fact that he wouldn't be able to use this information for much now. It was better than going outside, as he knew that letting the little group process what he just did would let the next prank hit twice as hard. Just like old times.

His ears perked up before his brain processed the sound of scratching. Rolling his eyes, Jax sat up and slid off his bed. He softly laid the diary onto his warped purple nightstand; something that valuable needed to be treated as such.

The noise wasn't coming from his door, or from outside his room. Softly stepping around his room, he landed on his closet. Caine gave them all walk-in closets, despite only having one style of outfit and barely any possessions. 

Jax frowned, listening closer. The scraping sound was pitiful and weak, and definitely coming from the closet. It didn't sound like it was scratching against the door; it still sounded like it was against a wall of some sort. 

Bracing himself, Jax grabbed his stolen Funky Flashlight™ from his bedside drawer and slowly opened the door. Once he peeked his head in and shined his flashlight, he got a full view of what was making that noise.

Another abstracted soul, its many eyes trained on him. Jax froze in place; forcing him to take in the surroundings. Unlike many of the other abstractions, this one was small and pathetic, only coming up to his chest when standing fully upright. It wasn't doing that, as it was hunched over, having just been interrupted while it scratched where the floor met the far wall. 

“H-hey! D-don’t try anything, this flashlight weighs like, 50 pounds!” Jax shifted into a stance showing that he was completely ready to club this thing over the head with a flashlight. He expected it to pounce at any moment.

Instead, it stayed far back in the closet, trembling. All abstractions usually looked like they were trembling at all times, with all the glitching and whatnot, but it seemed much more prominent. 

Jax loosened his grip, confused. When he took a step forward, the creature shrank into itself, whimpering. It was scared of him. 

Taking another step, Jax got an even closer look at it. Its body was more air than abstraction. He thought it was peppered with holes, but taking a closer look, it was more like an intricately crafted series of twisting tubes. 

Already cementing a conclusion in his head, the rabbit sauntered towards it. He pointed the flashlight close to it, making the abstraction’s many eyes flinch. 

“Well, well, well. Look who came crawling back to ol’ Jaxy.” He scoffed, making it flinch. “Not even death, huh?” 

Jax’s face was inches away, crouching down with a wide, toothy grin. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?”

The abstraction blubbered something heavily garbled while its polygons grew more frantic. As it leaned back, Jax leaned in further. “Try me. You’re as pitiful as before.” He wanted to keep grinning, but while searching his mind for a way to press it further, he let it fade into a scowl. 

“I don't know if you can hear me in there, but I'm sure you’re still not the biggest fan of me. Please, you gotta believe me, I was the good guy there.” As it grew more unstable, he pushed further. “They wanted to lead you on, try and pretend that they like you- that anyone, could like who you are. All I was- all I am is perfectly honest. If you can't see that, all that does is prove my point.”

Jax didn't have to make contact; he reached out his hand toward the creature, causing a cacophony of colored lights to rapidly attack his senses.

Joyce got to sit back and watch Kinger work. It was mesmerizing to watch him pick up toy blocks 6 times his size like it was nothing and pile them in the only entrance. Whether the items weren't coded with proper weight or Kinger was channeling the power of an ant, they couldn't say.

Wiping non-existent sweat off his brow, Kinger joined Joyce in admiring his work. “Beautiful, isn't it?” He asked, looking at the poorly constructed pile of random props with a sparkle in his eyes. Joyce nodded, getting up from their out-of-place beach chair. “I was worried I was going to be spotted while I worked, but they all seemed too preoccupied to notice us. We’re too small compared to them, I suppose. We're like… Uh… Like… Some sort of small creature, I’m blanking on an example. One that builds stuff.”

“I’m just glad that we’re all safe and sound now. Good job, buddy! And you said that Jax is definitely, 100 percent inside?”

“Oh, of course! He ran off in- '' Kinger lifted his hands, making two Ls before studying them closely. “That way.” He did not give any indication as to what way he was referring to.

“I’ve been thinking of a way to get Zooble’s parts back,” Joyce said, changing the subject. They had moved Zooble’s head and surrounding pillowfort back to their room, to not bother them with the construction; although, they probably would've been able to sleep through that. “My best plan is to lower one of us down in a giant cartoon bucket to fish them out.”

“And your worst plan?”

“I don’t have one. No offense, but why would I make a plan that's the worst one? That seems counterintuitive.” 

Joyce walked into the room, using both of their grippers to drag in a bathtub; the type that was a separate object from the ground, with 4 ornately crafted legs. “Do you think this would work? Wait, hold on.” Joyce grabbed something from inside the tub, dumping out another broken mannequin. The bath immediately felt the weight of a feather. 

Kinger was hunched over a pile of blankets, attempting to tie them together. “If you think it'll hold. I’m not good with weight thresholds or numbers or anything, that was more of Queenie’s thing.” Everyone was silent for a moment before Kinger gave himself a fist pump. That’s 2 dead wife mentions at this point, a new record.

After what would usually be conveyed with a building montage were this not a piece of writing, it was complete. A couple dozen bed sheets, blankets, and pieces of clothing went over what looked like a wheel from a cowboy-era wagon propped up on two imageless street signs. One end of the ‘rope’ was tied around a bronze horse statue, and the other was holding up the bathtub right over the Hole. Like a well from hell. A hell well.

“Another one of my crowning achievements,” Kinger said, wiping a pretend tear from the bottom of his eyeball. 

“Ready to hop in, bud?” Joyce asked, giving him a cheerful pat on the back.

“What? I have to get in that death trap?”

“That… Was the plan, yes. I weigh 4 tons and you float an inch off of every surface. You also get this bug net to fish it out!” Joyce enthusiastically presented a giant square net with a handle. It was probably a scaled-up version of a pool cleaner, likely swiped from the ‘aquarium,’ but it was good enough for Kinger.

He caressed the handle as he lay inside the tub, sweating. Joyce held onto the other end of the rope firmly, preparing to lower him into the abyss. “Have fun, I’ll miss you!” Joyce meant it as literally as possible, that they’d miss him for the few minutes he was down there, but it felt very foreboding. Kinger’s stomach flipped as the tub lurched downward sharply. It slowed down, dropping foot by foot. 

Anxiously shaking, Kinger looked over the edge of the tub. He couldn't see the bottom, nor any walls. Pure darkness; the only glow being the cone of light coming from above the Hole.  the Hole above him. The thick air stung his wooden skin, making it difficult to breathe. The only sound was his heartbeat.

He doesn't have a heartbeat, does he?

A barely audible splish came from below as the tub landed against whatever fluid was down there. The line of fabric loosened a bit before stopping; Joyce could tell from the lightening weight that the tub had contacted something. 

Kinger could almost feel crust forming on his eyeballs the longer he spent here. Nevertheless, he scanned the seas for any sign of the box. If it wasn't for the shine on the liquid, provided by the only opening, he would've been in complete shadow. 

Gripping his net tight, he saw something floating in the water. The chances of the box floating rather than sinking or even disintegrating on contact were extremely slim; crossing his fingers, Kinger fished out the box. It was heavier than he expected. Once it was reigned in, sure as day, it was a cardboard box. The corners were covered with rocky, hardened abstraction fluids, but it remained unopened.

Kinger tugged on the rope to send a signal and started to ascend. It felt like he had gone miles down into the Hole, but he made it back in less than a minute. As soon as his head was past the entrance, he was coughing and sputtering for the fresh air. If he had a mouth, he would be vomiting up all the toxins like Pomni on her first day.

Tossing out the box onto solid land, Kinger clambered over the side and joined it. Tying the cord around the horse, Joyce picked up the box.

“Hooray, You did it! Right? This is the box, right?” Joyce asked whilst turning the box over in their pliers. It was like it had just washed up on the beach, covered in ‘barnacles’ and a couple of eyes. Kinger managed to push himself back to his feet and was given the box, stepping away from the Hole and the library entirely. He had enough of that in one lifetime.

“Do we give it to Zooble now? Please say we do. They're gonna be so happy! Can’t you just picture it?” Joyce asked, following Kinger while bouncing on their toes. “It’s probably not physically possible for them to smile, but I like our odds!”

Gangle looked up at him with new tears flowing. 

Her grip tightened on his hand as she forced a shoddy smile.

“Oh, for the love of- Just- Just give up! On everyone, on ME! Just go ahead and abstract! You should know that no one would care!” Jax tried to pull his hand away. “Let- Let GO!”

“N-No… No!”

“GET OFF! YOU CAN’T- #&@%$, STOP!”

“No!”

“I S-SWEAR, I CAN-”

“NO!”

…

“Hey. Hey, Two-face, wake up. Cha’ died.” 

Gangle’s painted-on eyes slowly opened, squinting at the tall figure standing above her. She could immediately tell that she had her tragedy mask on from the pressure in her chest and the sob on the edge of her throat. 

Not waiting for a response, Jax turned the flashlight on and off rapidly in her face. “Wakey wakey, sunshine. I don’t got all day.” Gangle lifted up her ribbon arm to block the light, which Jax used to lift her to her feet and drag her out of his closet.

“Wha- What? Where a-am I? What happened? I d-died?” Gangle stammered as she was forced into the light. Jax took her temporary blindness as an opportunity to grab her diary from his nightstand and hide it inside his pocket.

“Yeah, keep up. You’re in Castle Jax by the way, don’t touch anything,” Jax said, already tilting back his chair with crossed legs. She looked around at the scribbling on the walls before lifting a ribbon and pointing at Jax’s impromptu headband. “Is-is that-?” 

“Yeah, fashionable. On me, not you, obviously,” he said. “I died too, so don't think you’re special. You died, I died, Caine died, I think? And everyone else is dead too.” 

“Everyone? They- They’re a-abstracted?”

Jax put the back end of the flashlight to his chin and thought for a moment. “Yep, all dead. We’re the only two left in this circus currently, so you should probably try and make a good impression on me, crybaby.”

“B-but I'm not dead! D-do you think-”

“Nope. I found you already alive, surrounded by all the abstraction meat shlopped off. In my closet, by the way, creep. There’s probably no way to bring anybody back from the dead.” Jax crossed his fingers, hoping she would buy it. That was a big leap in conclusions, but her brain was presumably too miserable to think straight.

“O-oh. Oh n-no…” Gangle wiped a tear from her eye. “W-what are we supposed to do now?”

“Eh. We had no purpose in life before, and we certainly don’t have one now,” Jax got up from his chair, casual as ever. “I suppose we can help each other now. You have your quote-unquote ‘art,’ and I have desires for… Y'know, a clean room, maybe a fresh meal or two. It would help out a lot for the both of us if you could help out with that.”

“A-are you asking me to do your c-chores?” 

“Eh, more or less.” Jax couldn't care less about food or a clutter-less room, he was more interested in the principle of making Gangle do his bidding. “I’d like it done by today, preferably. Chop-chop.”

“W-what? I’m s-sorry, but I’m not entirely sure you’re telling the truth about- about any of this. I would prefer for all of this to be a prank, but if I walk out of here a week later and everyone’s fine, I would be such an- an idiot!”

“Wow, feisty today, aren't you? Guess being dead for… years? Would do that to some.”  Jax wrapped one hand around Gangle’s middle, lifting her easily. She didn't fight it. “Thought the light desaturation would be enough, but allow me to enlighten you.”

Jax opened his door, looking to see if any of the others were nearby to topple the house of lies he built. Once he confirmed it to be clear, he stepped out with Gangle in hand, showing her around like a handheld camera. “If this was another adventure, it would be in very bad taste,” he said, pointing her at the infestation of glitchy vines. “Happy now?”

Gangle wasn't happy, but she believed him. “O-oh. I’m s-sorry…” She let her arms dangle in disappointment. “B-but why would this make me w-want to help you with menial tasks? N-no offense.” 

“You’re full of beans today, huh? Need I remind you who’s currently holding you right now?” Jax rolled his eyes, when out of the corner of his vision was Kinger and the newbie at the entrance to the cast hall. He was pointing Gangle the other way, and the intruding pair hadn’t started walking or even looking down the long hallway, but he knew he had little time to think. “I- uh- I’ll help you, you’ll help me, y'know?” He fumbled at his keyring, grabbing Gangle’s room key and slinking inside.

Setting Gangle down in her room, he quickly locked the door behind them. Jax had gotten plenty of good looks at the inside of her room during his original stay; he provided plenty of moths to eat her ribbons, or one of Zooble’s parts to frame her, or maybe just smashing some of her belongings on the floor when he wasn't in a creative mood. 

It looked like the kind of room an old rich person that used to be in stage-play would own; rich mahogany and high bookshelves, two armchairs that would be perfect for smoking an old-fashioned pipe while talking about how fickle the public is. The only sign of Gangle was the out-of-place posters and brightly colored manga. The low poly books were fused together and to the shelves, with small parts carved out for her comics. Plus some paper and pencils littered the floor from where she was drawing, and a fancy mirror with broken masks taped around it. Seems unnecessary to keep them up, but alright.

“Y-You’ll help me?” Gangle asked, trembling as always.

“Yeah yeah, of course! Let me just…” Scrambling for a plan to excuse this quick entrance into her room, he got down on his knees and pulled something from under her bed. He assumed that Zooble told her to hide her stuff from him in the same spot she did, and that's why the box was there. Not like that had helped her any.

Opening it up revealed stacks of backup comedy masks. He, of course, usually broke in and smashed them whenever given the chance. Caine only restored them at the beginning of the day, forcing her to get Zooble to fix her main one. Which Jax tries, and usually succeeds to break as well. 

Important to have a daily routine, y'know? 

“There! You get your happiness, and I get mine as well.” Gangle beamed as Jax held up a mask, immediately reaching out to grab it. It made sense she would be eager. Her one chance of happiness was held in his hands. Something that, as far as she knows, nobody will be able to fix or restore. Held in… his hands. 

He can’t not, right?

“Whoopsie-doodle,” Jax said, grinning ear to ear as the mask slipped from his fingers and shattered against the floor. Gangle put her ribbons to her face, gasping. “Butterfingers! Must need some better gloves.” Jax didn't wait for her reaction before grabbing another mask and doing the same, doubling the amount of ceramic shards piled on the floor with another frightening crack. Fortunately for him, all the rooms were soundproof. Except for the voices of people standing near the door; convenient for conversations, but something that took a long time to figure out.

Gangle tried to stop him, but she made no effect on him as he began chucking the fragile masks over his shoulder and into the wall. He excused each one with a hollow apology that his hands were sweaty or that the mask wasn’t ‘the proper quality.’

She had already resigned herself to sobbing to herself as she curled up into a ball when Jax stopped on the last one. He turned it over in his hands, gazing at it in mock philosophical musing. “Am I really so cruel? Should I really break your last hope at happiness? One that can no longer be repaired by Caine nor Zooble, need I remind you,” he pointed out, making sure to lean close in. “No, no I will not.”

Gangle lifted up a single ribbon pitifully, but Jax lifted the mask high above his head and pressed his finger to her face. “Ah-ah-ah! Don't get too hasty, young one. Have I said that you've earned it? No, I have not.” Gangle couldn't find the words to say. “We should discuss our little agreement, about helping each other, hm?”

“Hey! Hey! Wake up! We have a surprise!”

“Mnmn… Buh? I’mnb… Guh.” Zooble barely managed to get their eyes open, despite taking a multiple-hour-long nap. They dazedly sat up, seeing the excited faces of Kinger and, confirming that it wasn't just a dream, Joyce. “Eh… What is it? Not to sound like a coffee cup from Hobby Lobby, but I tend to be a bit harsh when I first wake up.” 

They slid off of the side of the bed, getting a good stretch in. “Sorry about falling asleep like that. That’s just a thing that happens sometimes, whenever I have to deal with a shit ton of emotions. Or for no reason at all, that’s a cause too. Probably some form of digital na- Oh.” Zooble looked down at their ‘hands.’ They turned them over and looked at the back, then turned them over again. 

They had their body back. Their head was attached to the stupid polka dot bean they called their body, their only arm with a real hand attached to their left. Zooble was pretty sure Kinger and Joyce had attached a leg to their other arm socket and an arm for a leg, but they were even happy to see the stupid bat wing thing on their shoulder.

“We figured that we had the time, so- Oh!” Kinger was wrapped in a hug from Zooble before they quickly pulled away. “Thank you,” they quickly added. “How did you manage this?” 

“We used a bathtub and a horse statue!” Joyce said, extending their arms.

“...I’m not doing more than one hug a day.” Zooble groaned as they stretched every part of their body. “Oh, it feels so good to have a neck, god damn. Thank you so, so fuckin’ much.” 

Zooble stopped stretching as their eyes widened a bit, they clearly remembered something. Silently they plucked the green zig-zag antenna from their head, wincing. Crossing their fingers, they attempted to place it in the… Approximate area of their groin. 

Everyone watched in suspense as it stuck to their body. One second passed, then two. It stayed. No censorship, no teleporting back to their head. Silence filled the air.

“Yes. YES!” Zooble yelled, the sound of actual excitement bouncing throughout the soundproof room. “FUCK YES! WOW, THIS SUCKS! THIS ISN'T FUNNY IN THE SLIGHTEST, HELL YES!”

Joyce clapped enthusiastically, knowing nothing but the fact that Zooble was giddy. Kinger joined, confused but happy for them. Zooble let out an awe-filled laugh, one of the first times they had shown a happy emotion to anyone. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE! GOD, THIS IS FUCKIN’ AWFUL, I AM SO HAPPY! THE LEAST HUMOROUS THING I’VE EVER SEEN. HELL YES! I- God. Sorry. I think I lost myself a bit there. Ahem.”

Chapter Text

Jax groggily sat up as a knock peppered his door. He looked down at his clothes. Like every other night, it was somehow replaced with pajamas and a nightcap. Jax groaned and cracked the door open. Caine was on the other side, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

“WELL, GOOD MORNING, MY STAR PERFORMER! HOW WAS YOUR BEAUTY SLEEP?” Caine boisterously asked through the open crack, giving Jax a virtual migraine. The ringleader had his head tilted, shoving his eyeballs through the door. Jax grumbled to himself and pushed them back out.

“What do you want?”

“OH, OH! NOTHING IN PARTICULAR, I ASSURE YOU. JUST WANTED TO CHECK IN WITH MY FAVORITE GUY BEFORE BREAKFAST!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be out, just give me a second,” Jax said before shutting the door. He quickly stripped down to his irremovable boxers; covered in cartoonish hearts and completely purple, of course. He grabbed a pair of overalls and pulled them on. Giving himself a confident once over in the mirror, he was ready for the day. 

“SO, WHAT’S TODAY’S PLAN? GOT ANYTHING LINED UP FOR THIS WONDERTASIMAL, FANTIFUL-TASTIC DAY?” Caine asked, floating just behind Jax while he walked towards the main area. 

“Isn’t that your job?” Jax replied. He didn't bother to turn around and face him.

“YEAH, WELL… BUBBLE CRUNCHED THE NUMBERS, AND IT WOULDN’T BE VERY EFFICIENT FOR ANY OF OUR ADVENTURES TO TAKE PLACE WITH ONE PERFORMER,” Caine said, letting his arms go limp to express sadness. “I GUARANTEE THAT THERE’LL BE A WAVE OF CAST MEMBERS SOONER THAN YOU THINK! THAT’S WHAT I’M BANKING ON!”

“Yeah, you believe that,” Jax muttered under his breath.

“IN THE MEANTIME, WE HAVE PLENTY OF ACTIVITIES FOR YOU TO PARTAKE IN! ASK ME AND BUBBLE FOR HELP WHENEVER YOU NEED SOMETHING!” 

“Sure, sure.” Jax leaned against the giant pillar in the middle of the tent. He wasn't sure why he came out here. He took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, Caine was still floating nearby, watching him intently. He didn't breathe.. “...Do you not have anything else to do?”

“NOPE!”

“Great,” Jax huffed. He kicked his foot against the floor. Caine continued to watch, lying forward and propping his chin up with his hands. “...Do you want me to do something?”

“I'M JUST WAITING FOR ANY ASSISTANCE I CAN PROVIDE!”

“Well, unless you’re allowed to provide fifty pounds of dynamite, I don't think there's anything you can do.” Jax chuckled to himself. Caine, meanwhile, clapped his hands together and laughed boisterously.

“AHAHAH! OH, YOU! HAH, THAT IS- OH, WHAT CLASSIC JAX!” He pats Jax’s shoulder, still laughing hysterically. Jax smiled nervously, leaning away from him. “Y-yeah… Alright.”

Caine stopped chortling as suddenly as he started, returning to staring at Jax, who was now sweating slightly. He cleared his throat. “Could you- Could you leave or something?” 

“OH. ALRIGHT,” Caine snapped his fingers, unceremoniously disappearing. Without even leaving confetti. 

Jax breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down the pillar and sitting on the ground. He thought he would feel a bit more comfortable once he was gone, but unease still gnawed at him. He traced the tiles on the floor with his finger. It was perfectly flat, with no seams or bumps between the squares. As he tapped his fingers against the floor, it made stock impact sounds that echoed around the empty circus.

It had only been a day, and Jax was already bored of this.

Sure, it was fun to boss Gangle around, make her scrub the writing off his walls, and organize his stolen goods, but there wasn't much for her to do after that. Alongside that, Jax had to confine her to either his or her room, which limited the possibilities greatly. That didn't mean he was going to give the mask back yet, of course.

Jax made sure to wake up before Gangle to make sure she didn't try anything; he didn't have to sleep, after all, and he was aware she probably loved to sleep to escape the hell he was putting her through. That’s hilarious. 

Tapping his feet once they touched the floor, Jax grabbed the mask from the bedside drawer. He turned it over in his hands, trying to think of what to do. Gangle was still asleep on the floor like a pile of spaghetti. He’d go for a walk to clear his mind.

Not a long walk, since he could only dash to Gangle’s room to avoid any of the others. He just needed the spark, the light to a fire of creative torment-ship. 

He felt a sharp pain in his foot. Inhaling through his teeth, Jax winced as he saw the cause: one of the colored pencils Gangle left lying about had gone clean through his paw. Thank god it was cartoony, so all he had to do was yank it out and it resolved itself. He almost wished it hurt the way it was supposed to.

No, no, he couldn't think like that. It hurt a little and it's Gangle’s fault for leaving out all her stuff, anyway. He could use it for justification for whatever he was going to do.

Whatever plan he had for revenge faded as he looked at the pencil. He wanted to do something with the other schmucks out there but didn't have the speed or stealth to do what he wanted without being noticed. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do to them, but he knew it had to be elaborate; he didn't have Caine to unwittingly soften them up. 

If he needed manpower, he had an idea. One that will most likely fall flat, but at least it wouldn't blow up in his face if his theory was proven wrong. Sweeping all the trash off Gangle’s art station, he set her comedy mask down and got to work.

“Wakey wakey, sunshine. Wake up,” Jax demanded, anxiously excited. Gangle opened her eyes slowly, taking in and remembering yesterday. Jax made sure to lock the door behind him, sliding the keyring back into his pocket.

“O-oh, so it-”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, it wasn't actually a dream, it all happened, everyone's dead, whatever. What matters is this!” Jax said, presenting the comedy mask to her. He made sure to show it back first. “You’ve earned it!”

“W-what? What!? Really?!” Gangle said. She was actually excited about this stupid piece of ceramic, Jax thought. “Y-you mean it? Really?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Just- put it on! C’mon!” Gangle tried to grab the mask, but Jax shoved it past her hands impatiently. Equally as tense for putting it on, she held it close and leaned her face into it. It stuck like a magnet; the type of magnet easily knocked off, of course. “How’s it feel? You better now? Feeling like… doing anything?”

“I… I feel much better. A lot better, actually,” Gangle admitted, still holding the mask to her face. “I mean- Haha, wow! I feel amazing! I-I don't think I’ve ever felt like this before! I want to- I want to-”

“Do pranks? General mischief?” Jax excitedly asked. Gangle lifted her head, revealing the two downward-pointing eyebrows he scribbled onto the comedy mask. He also seemed to have made her smile uncomfortably wider.

“Y-Yes! That’s exactly it! I have to!” Gangle stood up, her posture unusually straight. Jax watched with admiration. “I want to put water buckets over doors and watch as they get slightly wet!”

“Yes! Yes! Exactly!”

“I want to take their belongings and throw them into a pit! I have to lock them in a room and slowly fill it with deadly gas!”

“Y-yeah? We might want to think a little lower than that, ribbons.”

“I’m going to- I’m going to take them and throw them into a hole filled with snakes!” Gangle couldn't hold in their energy anymore and began to pace around the room whilst frantically telling her ideas. “I’ll lace their food! With EXPLOSIVES!”

“I- uh- I'm not-”

“This feeling- This POWER, can only be described as applied to a GOD.” 

“A-Alright, alright! We should probably just calm down here,” Jax suggested, reaching out a paw to place on her shoulder. She didn't flinch away from it, instead dodging away from it like she was offended. 

“Excuse me? And who the hell are you to talk to me like that? You can't stop me! My ideas are NOT to be tampered with, especially by someone like YOU.”

“Alright, that's a step too far. I can break that mask right now if I wanted to before hanging you up from a clothesline, crybaby.” Jax tried to appear taller, looming over her as best he could, despite already being multiple feet taller than her.

“Oh, I’d love to see you try, you rejected FNAF design!” Gangle extenuated her point by jabbing him in the chest. That was the last straw for Jax.

Casual as ever, he lifted his hand and attempted to shove her head down sharply. The mask would come flying off, she would be sad again, the whole outburst would have an embarrassing ending and she wouldn't even know about all the others. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and stopped it short. Jax was about to go in with his other hand, but he quickly forgot about that when she began to sharply twist his wrist.

Despite the muted pain of the colored pencil earlier, the feeling that shot up his arm was entirely realistic. His fingers clenched while his breath got caught in his throat. 

“Gah-! Ah, Jesus! You stupid-” Jax yanked the ribbon wrapped around his wrist off and scrambled back, but she was quick to follow.

She grabbed each ankle of his kicking feet, pulling them out from under him; her hands snaked out to grab them. 

He continued to try and scramble away, but Gangle just tightened her grip, pinning his legs together. She kept tightening until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He flipped onto his back, supporting himself with his hands as he looked face to face with his attacker. When she continued up his body and at his neck, his arms fell from under him. Bending his knees, he used all the force he could to kick her face. It wasn't enough to break the mask, but it was enough for her to lose her grip. He scrambled backward, heart racing. She recovered quickly, snaking out a ribbon to grab his overalls. She grabbed onto something. Jax heard a rip and her grip faltered.

His head bumped against his bedside drawer. He heard his Funky Flashlight™ roll and fall behind the dresser. Gangle was already approaching. His hand scrambled underneath the dresser, feeling for the heavy flashlight. He grabbed onto something cold and metal before rolling out of the way. 

Instead of a weapon as he hoped, it was his old key. The one to his room that he quickly found useless after getting that keyring. Not taking the time to reminisce, he decided to use this slight time save in scrambling for his keyring to escape. He saw Gangle grab the tactical flashlight out of the corner of his eye, while he rushed to the door. Unlocking it with speed he didn't know he was capable of, he slammed it closed. He flinched as a series of heavy impacts came from behind the door, right behind his head. She was banging the flashlight against it.

Zooble curled up tighter. It wasn't often that they went to sleep with all their body parts on, but due to recent ‘circumstances,’ they were a lot more protective of them. Kinger was gracious enough to snap off a pillow for them; he offered Zooble to join him and Joyce in the fortress, but they emphatically declined.

A hand gripped their shoulder, attempting to shake them awake. Zooble groaned, and what would usually have been a glance before drifting back to sleep turned into a sudden bolt of energy.

“Wha- HUH?-”

“ Shshshsh !” Jax aggressively shushed. He continued in a whisper. “ Don’t wake the others, please .” 

Zooble complied, not out of any conscious choice, more out of bewilderment. “You- You’re really showing your face to me? After that?” Zooble said in a hushed whisper. 

“ I’m the one standing above you with a firm grip on your shoulder, don’t forget. And took you long enough. My arm’s tired after that,” Jax got to his feet, deliberately choosing not to offer a hand to them. “Let’s go somewhere else. Away from sleeping beauty and his one stupid dwarf.”

Zooble managed to clamber their way to their feet, getting a good stretch in. There was a pop of their limbs being pulled halfway out of their sockets. “Glad to hear it wasn't a sudden change of heart, then. Whatever, let’s go.”

Jax was taken aback by the lack of a grudge. He didn't let that show for more than a second. “Yeah, well, a lot has happened, so try and keep up with whatever plastic walnut that’s actin’ as a brain up there.” He gestured to start walking away from the pillow fort. 

Once they were a good distance away from their makeshift camp, Jax continued at his normal volume. “You know Gangle better than anyone, right?”

They stopped to talk at the makeshift wall Kinger had made. Zooble admired it as they talked. It looked surprisingly sturdy for something Kinger made. “Relatively well, I guess. If you’re asking for gossip on a dead girl, I'm not giving it.” It even had a little staircase for peering over the top.

“That’s just the thing. She’s- uh- not dead. Not just in the way where Caine would correct you, but like… Unabstracted. If that's what we’re calling it.”

Zooble’s head snapped around to face Jax, completely forgetting about whatever architecture they were pondering. “What? She’s- WHAT?” They spun in place and grabbed Jax by the shoulders. “For how long? Where is she? How is she? Do you know how she- you need to tell me everything! Or take me to her. Actually, just do that, please .”

Jax was startled by the sudden excitement. Zooble continued to stare him down, but Jax kept silent, thinking intently. He tried to come up with any lie that could work in this situation, but given how he needed their advice, they needed all the info they could get. Sighing through his teeth, he ducked out of their grip. He deliberately took a step back before talking. “Alright, well, yeah, it’s a bit complicated, I’d say. Try and look at this from multiple angles, yeah? Keep an open mind and all that.”

The expressions that shifted through Zooble’s face would've been priceless had Jax not been scared of being choked to death. Jax tried his best to describe it in a way that painted him in the right, but it was hopeless. He told them about the first meeting, the pressing into her emotions, how he told mountains and mountains of lies and the mask he drew evil eyebrows on followed by the fight. He tried to leave out the whole ‘servitude’ thing, but Zooble drew that out with some questioning. 

“I- uh-” Jax stuttered, distracted by the look Zooble was drilling into his soul. His cool demeanor faded as he scratched the back of his neck. “So… I figured you would- would know what to do. You knew her best, right? For- for her sake, obviously.” 

“What- In what world, would you think that was a good idea? You-” Zooble’s antennae twitched again and non-stop. They took a deep breath, lifting and lowering their hands in tandem. “ Alright. Alright. Fine, alright, okay. Sure.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already forgave you like, 10 minutes ago, and you had already done this by then. So it probably applied to everything you did.” Zooble took a step forward, leaning into Jax’s sweating face. “But remember this. Remember how forgiving I’m being to you, and don’t make me do it again. Because I won’t. ” 

“A-alright! Alright, jeez, I get it!” He dodged away from their face, throwing up his hands. “I’m a bad little boy or whatever, I’m sorry! Just fix your psycho girlfriend!”

“We’re just friends, alright?” Zooble said defensively. Jax raised an eyebrow at the first time Zooble called anyone their ‘friend.’ “Friends tend to care about each other's well-being, something you clearly don't know about. And you’re not getting off scot-free, you’re coming with me.”

“Wow. Willingly choosing to spend more time around me? That’s a rarity-” Zooble grabbed his arm with force, pulling him along. He regained his footing and walked along them like nothing happened. “So, where we goin’? You got a plan, or are you just gonna let her beat the shit out of you til she gets tired?”

“If that was my plan, why would I be the one to get beat up? Maybe I brought you along for a reason.” Zooble carefully limped over another vein that littered the floor. “Also, ‘where are we going?’ What kind of stupid question is that? ‘Oh yeah, I was thinking about stopping by the circus gym. That’d really help Gangle!’”

“I’m making a thing called ‘small talk,’ hun, something neither of you socialites know about. And you didn't answer my question, you got a plan or not?”

“Obviously, yes. You’ll need to sit back and be quiet while I talk to her. I’ll be able to get her to come down enough to reason. You said you locked her in your room, right? We’ll go into her room and fix one of the masks.” 

Jax started to say something but held back as they passed Kinger and Joyce again. They were still asleep. “ I actually always wanted to ask- ” Jax whispered til they were out of earshot. “-How are you able to fix her stuff? I’ve seen you do it, you just wave your hand over it and it melds back together.”

Gangle’s room finally came into view. The door was left open a crack, which Jax didn't recall doing. He didn't say anything before Zooble answered him. “Oh, it was a Caine thing. If you remember, I was somehow even more secluded in my room the first couple of months. He also saw how often Gangle’s masks broke, so he thought he could fix both problems at once.” Zooble wistfully sighed at the memories, an emotion Jax didn't think they were capable of. “I remember how often she would come to my door crying, asking me to fix her mask. She had to get Ragatha to ask the first couple of times actually, she was that shy. Her head was peeking out from behind her dress-”

Jax mimed putting his finger down his throat, making fake gagging noises. Zooble shot him a look and Jax was happy with that reaction. “God, kill me! I’m gonna barf! What a stupidly optimistic way to look at a friendship born out of necessity.”

Zooble huffed, turning back to their objective with shaking antennae. “I can’t believe I almost forgot why everyone hated you. Let’s just get this over with.” They stepped into Gangle’s room, an environment they were very familiar with. It looked a bit different, which they asked Jax about once he entered the room. “Where’s all the drawings and shit? And the anime stuff?”

“Oh, uh…” Jax immediately got sheepish again. “I- uh, I told her I didn't like how they looked and she had to get rid of it.” Zooble faced him with a cold scowl, one that asked a question all by itself. “Not like that! They’re all tucked away in my closet now, I’m pretty sure. Besides, she totally would’ve seen you all had I made her toss it all into the cellar.”

“Gee, what a hero.” Very familiar with its location, Zooble crouched down to pull the box full of masks out from under Gangle’s unnecessarily fancy bed. Pulling out the first bit of cardboard they felt, they found one of the cardboard cutouts of themselves used when they didn't show for the intro. They slid it back under. They knew better than to question whatever Gangle was doing at any time. 

Pulling the box out, they couldn't tell where one mask started and another ended; it was just a box of broken ceramic. Dumping it out onto the floor, Zooble began piecing a mask that was split into tons of tiny little pieces together, an activity they were used to. Jax planted himself on the bed.

He kicked his legs and looked around the room. He squinted at the closet; it was a walk-in one like all the rooms, but what caught his attention was how it was slightly ajar. He didn't remember it being like that last time he was in here; he didn't recall it being like that just a few moments ago, even. 

He coughed into his fist. He was planning on closing the closet door, but just when he got to his feet, Zooble announced that they finished. 

“Alright, finally done. You really did a number on them, damn.”

“‘Finally?’ That was only a minute, give me a break,” Jax said before shooting a look at the creepy one-eyed mask hung up by the mirror. There was also a single textureless cube sitting on a desk. “Let’s just leave. This room is giving me the creeps.”

Zooble rolled their eyes, tucking the mask under their arm and heading for the door. Right when they got there, Jax piped up. “Hey, didn't we leave the door open?”

“Hm?”

Zooble attempted to turn the knob, but it wouldn't budge. They tried again and again to no avail. “What… The fuck?” 

“Move it, triangle-head. The problem is one of your hands is a tentacle,” Jax said, shoving them aside. Gripping the handle with both hands and pulling as hard as he could didn't make any difference. “God- We’re locked in! Great, which one of your friends did you give a spare key to? Splinter Face or Rusty?”

“Wha- why the hell would I have a key to Gangle’s room?! And why would they lock us in?”

“Oh, we both know the answer to that first question. Secondly, they were probably jealous of my amazing pranking skills. Not that I blame them.” Jax attempted to reach into his pocket and pull out his keyring but found nothing. Not just the keys; the pocket was entirely missing. He turned around, bewildered. “I- Huh? You seein’ this shit?”

“You- you didn't know? That your pocket was completely torn off? That- cough - that was the first thing I noticed!”

“Why didn't you say anything?!”

“You said you got into a fight, that was enough of an explanation!”

Jax was about to snark something back when he recalled that he heard the sound of fabric tearing in the middle of the fight. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Aw, fuck. She has the keys.”

“Gangle?”

“No, Ragatha. Yes, obviously Gangle, Jesus! She’s locked us in here so she can do whatever supervillain plans she was ranting about!” Jax threw up his hands and paced to the other side of the room. “Unless you have any faith in cue-ball eyes and rectangle-face out there, they’re about to be thrown into a pit of snakes.”

“Oh. I- uh- that does sound a bit like her.” Zooble rested their head on a hand. “Shit, I don’t know what to do. Are you sure it's locked?”

“What kind of question is that!? You tried the door yourself!”

“I don't know! I’m panicking just as much as you!”

“Panicking? I’m not panicking. I’m cool and collected, you’re panicking. Maybe you should take one of those naps you’re so famous for while I figure a way out of here.”

“Nah, nah. I’d love to hear what plan you've got cooking up in that brain of yours. Please, enlighten me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh…” 

Jax planted himself back onto the bed, coughing into his fist again. 

“God, it’s getting stuffy in here. You said you can pick locks once, can’t you do something?”

“Unless there's some sort of lock-picking minigame, that's not going to be possible.”

“Well, I’m sure Gangle will trip and break that mask eventually, right? Those two might be dead by then, but she’ll let us out.”

“Great plan. Waiting. Eh, not like I have a better one,” Zooble said, picking up the textureless cube and examining it. It felt like pressing up against a water jet at a pool; air was coming out of all the sides. “Plus, I believe in those two much more than you. They'll get something done.”

“You tell yourself that. It’s really a stoppable force meets a movable object situation here. Gangle’s sheer lack of abilities, or Kinger’s and… The other guy’s stupidity,” Jax quipped. Zooble ignored him, their eyes caught on a slip of paper. They picked it up and gave it a once over. Their face dropped in horror.

Jax got up, confused. Wordlessly, Zooble handed him the slip of paper.

dear jax and zooble:

it appears you have fallen right into my trap!!! muahahah!!!!

youre both PREDICABLE worms! coming into MY room, going to touch MY stuff?! well this is one lesson you wont forget!! 

that cube isnt just any textureless cube. do you recall that one in-house adventure? a normal escape room with a DEADLY twist… poison GAS

is it starting to feel hard to breatheeee? that is the very thing that emmited all of the poison in that previous challenge! jax stole it and kept it in his closet lol :p

its unable to be deactivated except by caine, yet very easy to activate! and dont try and put it in a drawer, it only uses the walls of the room in its calculations (not even the closet will save you! caine forgot to mark the closet doors as walls! i checked!)

unlike the adventure, this one doesnt have a way out… well… except DYING! LOLOLOLOL 

-gangle

Jax furrowed his brow. “Really? You’re that scared of this? She writes like a 12-year-old.”

“What? No, man! I’m scared of DYING, which we are about to do! Open your eyes! This is insane!”

“Jeez, calm down. Try and think for once,” Jax said calmly, tossing the paper aside and leaning against the wall. “Did you forget that we can’t die here? I remember the adventure, Kinger suffocated but he seems fine. Well… He was the same before and after suffocating at the very least. Freaking out about this is, ironically, the only way to die!”

“Jax. Could you please recall that adventure?” Zooble said, gripping his shoulders and looking into his eyes. “Recall what happened to Kinger?”

“Well, I remember we left him in there on accident. When we came back, he was collapsed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Pretty funny, honestly. He had the Xs over his eyes and everything.”

“Correct. And how did Kinger come out of that state, exactly?”

“Caine brought him back, obviously.” It took him a second, but eventually, Jax’s face fell quickly into despair. “Oh. Oh, my god. Oh god, oh GOD! WE’RE GONNA FUCKING DIE, ZOOBLE!” He gripped their shoulders, screaming, before going back to pacing. “I’VE GOT SHIT TO DO, MAN! I DON’T WANNA DIE! NOT BY GANGLE’S GROSS GREASY HANDS!”

“Je-Jesus, calm down! Get a hold of yourself!” Jax was anxiously biting his knuckle as he hyperventilated. You could hear the squeaking of the rubber glove as he nashed on it, hunched over. Zooble attempted to get him to look at them. “L-look at me. We’re going to be fine , alright? We are going to get out of here, you just need to take deep breaths. Understand?”

Jax looked back with a look of disbelief. “Do you really think that? ‘cause I've yet to be presented with an ounce of evidence for that!” He traded his anxious pacing with aggression, getting up in Zooble’s face and pressing his pointer finger against their chest. “In fact, I believe it was your plan that entailed waiting around for jack-shit! How’s that plan looking now, smart guy?” 

Zooble backed up. “Fuck, man! There's no need to get up in my face like that, Jesus. You’re the one who stole the poison emitter, anyway! What were you gonna pull with that? Kill someone as a prank?” They groaned, pinching the approximate area of their nose. They really tried to help him for a second there, but now they're both snippy again. “We’re getting sidetracked, alright? We escaped that room in like… 4 hours? We came back an hour later and Kinger was dead, so… We probably have 5 hours.”

“Oh, a death countdown! Well, let’s just kick out our legs and pour ourselves a martini, cause allll my stress just melted away!” Jax turned to face the door again, slamming his fist against it as hard as he could before resorting to kicking. He knew it wouldn't work, but he chose to do it anyway. Only stopping once he was completely out of breath. 

He slid down the door, panting. Zooble lightly kicked him. “You done?” Jax only responded with a whimper. They rolled their eyes, attempting to push him aside. “Move over. Maybe this’ll help.” They already wrote a message on the bottom half of a piece of paper with flashy colors, reading ‘ Being poisoned inside. Please help. ’ They slid it under the door, keeping the other half inside the room to see if Gangle swiped it. “There. Now Joyce and Kinger will find us if they walk down this hallway. There’s not a chance that they won't come looking for me, right?”

“Haah… Yeah, sure, alright, fine,” Jax said, sitting up. He rubbed the side of his head. “What do we do now?”

“Sit here for hopefully less than 5 hours, I guess. You can manage that, right?” Zooble said, sitting back on the bed. It felt like they’d walked from one side of the room to the other about 50 times at this point. 

“Oh, yeah, mhm. No problem,” Jax said, stretching out his legs like nothing happened. 

30 minutes had passed, and nothing had happened yet. Jax was fully on his back now, tossing a crumpled-up ball of paper into the air and catching it. Zooble was practicing their drawing arm. It was still extremely wobbly.

Jax caught the ball, setting it aside. He exhaled loudly, sitting up and tapping his fingers impatiently. While looking around for something to do, his eyes landed on the creepy one-eyed mask. “Hey, Z-man? Do you know what’s up with that?” 

Zooble raised their head, looking to where Jax was lazily pointing. “Hm? Oh, that. Yeah, Gangle made that one night. She doesn't often draw on her masks, because it’s permanent. That mask stays like that between days and even when it's broken-”

“Yada, yada, yada. Didn't ask for her life story, I just want to know what's up with the mask.”

Zooble rolled their eyes and huffed. “She called it ‘Thalastessnesting’ or something. Dunno what's up with it. Sometimes she invites me to her room and asks if I would be okay with doing ‘the thing’ that night, where she puts on the mask and stares at me.” Zooble looks off into the middle distance. “Often for hours.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks for sharing,” Jax said, furrowing his brow and slowly turning away from them. 

“It’s really fine, I have stuff I can think about while she does that.”

“Good for you.” 

An hour had passed by this point, and Jax had resorted to rummaging through Gangle’s drawers for anything to do. He found a couple of her drawings, but a look coming from Zooble’s direction put him off from ripping them. Mostly some anime characters he didn't recognize and other cast members. Mostly herself and Zooble, but a couple of others too. He didn't see himself in any of them.

He grunted, a tiny bit irrationally upset about his absence. “Jeez, can you believe this? Not a single drawing of me! She drew that clown newbie that lasted a week, but not a single speck of purple!” Jax said to no one in particular, despite there only being one other person in the room. Looking back at Zooble for a reaction, he got one. 

Their eyes widened nervously for a moment, before returning to normal. “W-well… You can't really blame her, can you? She probably only draws people she likes.” Zooble reclined on the bed. “I didn't want to ask this, mostly because arguing with you gets so tiring-”

“‘Arguing?’ Nah, we just have a little thing called ‘banter,’ honey.”

“...Right. As I was trying to say, what the hell do you have against Gangle? Like, seriously man.”

“What? I’ve got something against Gangle? I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jax said, shoving the drawings haphazardly back into the drawers before spinning away on the rolling chair he was sitting on. “I’m like that with everyone, you just pay attention to her because she doesn't know how to take it.”

Zooble groaned, standing up just as they were getting comfortable. “Don’t play dumb with me, I'm not in the mood. I’m included in ‘everyone,’ and I haven't noticed anything on the level of the stuff you do to her.” Zooble ambled over to the desk, pulling out the drawings and attempting to smooth them out. “It’d be one thing if you were just a bit mean to her- that one thing being that you’re a giant tool- but you go out of your way to make sure her mask is broken. The, like, only fucking thing that just allows her to be happy.”

Jax planted his foot on the ground, stopping the spinning chair. He chuckled to himself as he leaned back. “Wow. You really think that? You’ve still got a lot to learn, sister.” He sighed loudly. “I didn't want to tell you this, cause I know how much it means to you to think I'm the bad guy.

“Truth is, she came to me long months before you arrived at the circus. That mask is exactly what it is, a mask. Something she uses to hide her true emotions. She tries to push it all deep, deep down with that sunny exterior, but it hurts. You may question my methods, but she would've abstracted a lot sooner had I not stepped in.”

“Really?” Zooble looked back at Jax, taking a break from their hunched-over work.

“Yep. Really. It's something that she-”

“No, no, shut up. I meant- really? I mean, really?” Zooble had fully turned to face Jax. That entire fucking thing was nothing but goddamn lies! I arrived only like a month after her for one, but also, she was the only person I talked to! Did you really think she wouldn't have gone intricately in-depth about her emotions with me? It’s not that she would've told me about something like that, it's that she’s told me the truth. A truth that directly goes against every single point in your shitty-ass pile of lies.”

“Alright, whatever! Yeah, sure, maybe I forgot you two were ‘BFFs for life!’” Jax mockingly blinked his eyelashes. “Y’know, 5 seconds after revealing you stare into each other's eyes all night. No need to swear, you middle schooler. No, she was… She was, like, a real asshole with the mask on. I was just saving everyone else!”

“That’s more a matter of opinion, but I know for a fact that you don't even believe that.”

“She… Uh- she likes it?”

“Alright, stop.”

“Fine, ‘Professor Gangle,’ if I'm so wrong, why don't you tell me ?” Jax said, gesturing with a frustrated expression.

Zooble did what was the equivalent of a scowl. “Fucking- I’ll tell you, sure, but only because I have nothing better to do! She… Hm. She’s bipolar.”

“Well, duh. We all knew that,” Jax said, rolling his eyes impatiently.

“What? N- No, you fucking asshole! She’s bipolar . She has bipolar. Cyclothymia. Manic depression.” Zooble thought to themselves for a moment. “No, that's an outdated term and cyclothymia is a different type of bipolar, but you get what I'm trying to say, right? Right?”

Jax raised his eyebrows but hid it with a scoff. “So what? Are you trying to get me to feel bad for her or whatever? ‘cause that ain't gonna work.”

“Wh- huh? Motherfucker, you asked me !”

“Whatever. So she's insane! Aren't we all?” Jax sat back down. 

“Do you even know what bipolar is ?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sad or some shit, then you start hearing voices or whatever, right? Jumps between the two.” He leaned back in the chair. “It’s not as fun when you put a name to it, ya know.”

“Well, tough shit. By the way, like, none of that was right.” Their antennae twitched in agitation as they fumed to themselves. “Listen, Gangle told me herself that the circus didn't exactly translate the condition correctly to her digital form. It's more of a… Metaphor. Going for the mask imagery over complete accuracy. She’s unbelievably lucky that the circus just made her th- her two masks depression and… standard, I guess. Because that comedy mask could have easily been a metaphor for mania. There’s no mask for feeling fine! Shakespeare didn't fucking make a mask for comedy, tragedy, and Alright.™ Classic theater, isn't it? White flags meant it was a light-hearted affair, black flags meant a more serious play, and the gray flags mean you get to watch Shakespeare do his medieval taxed or whatever the fuck.”

“...What are you talking about?” 

“I’m saying you’re an asshole! She went so long without putting herself in a manic state, and you had to come along to widen that smile and draw a pair of poorly drawn eyebrows on her face like a douche! Why not give her a mustache and a pair of devil horns while you’re at it!”

“‘Putting’ herself?’ What does that mean? It’s not like she was trying to hold back from doing it.”

“I- Um…Yeah, yeah. That’s true,” Zooble started to stammer, becoming even more nervous than usual. “I- I mean, it would be harmful to imply that! Since usually- I mean- S-since bipolar people can’t just be in a bad place and… decide to become manic. That’s probably something you think though, fucking-” They trailed off the rest of their sentence.

Forming a theory in his head, Jax raised his eyebrows and grinned, standing up. He towered over Zooble. “Mhm. You said there were only two types of masks, right? That she started with? Just the comedy and tragedy ones?” Zooble gulped, nervously nodding. Jax’s grin grew wider. “So, you wouldn't mind if I just… Searched for a bit? Make sure you’re telling me the complete truth? That’d be alright, right?”

Zooble didn't respond, and Jax didn't wait for one. Pushing them aside, he started to search through the drawers he’d yet to open. Zooble couldn't do anything but watch. 

Not finding anything, his eyes scanned the room for any hiding spots. He locked onto the already ajar closet door. A slight eye widen from Zooble told him everything he needed to know. As he reached for the handle, Zooble tried to call out, but it was too late. “Wait, don’t-!”

Jax’s face instantly dropped in horror. He could barely squeak a response. The third mask was, in fact, inside the walk-in closet. It was sat in the middle of the floor, slightly tilted as if someone recently bumped into it. It looked like her comedy mask but with a much wider smile and eyes. It looked a lot like the mask Jax made, minus the evil eyebrows.

That mask hardly registered in his mind. Instead, he was much more focused on everything else inside. The only object inside was the mania mask, but lining the floor, walls, and ceiling like wallpaper were nothing but drawings. Drawings of him.

Not normal drawings; it was nothing but graphic depictions of violence. Hanging, stabbing, decapitation, burning, gouging, the whole nine yards. Which happened to be the distance his guts were stretched. There wasn't a single copy, every drawing and method of torture was unique. 

Zooble took a sharp inhale. “So. You found the closet.”  They walked up to Jax’s side, who was still frozen in shock. “Now, I know how this looks, but this is not how all bipolar people are! She just happens to align with a harmful stereotype-”

“You… You fucking knew about this?! What the hell is- oh god, Jesus Christ… She’s completely goddamn insane.”

“You said that we were all a bit insane, like, a minute ago.”

“YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT I ONLY SAY THOSE THINGS TO GET YOU MAD, ASSHAT! Oh man, oh man, I’m dead. I’m fucking dead with no safety net.” Jax had his head in his hands at this point, turning away from the closet. “Why the hell did you not tell me about this?! The masks, the drawings, just- anything! We’ve been in here for an hour, and the worst thing anyone has ever seen was just behind this wall? That would've been a good conversation topic to broach!”

“Jesus man, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal.” Jax looked at them like they were crazy, but they continued talking. “Gangle didn't want anyone worrying about her, so she wanted to keep that mask and her bipolar secret. I assumed you wouldn't give a shit about her bipolar, but I didn't want to know what you’d do with that mask. I guess Caine didn't get why someone wouldn't want to be the happiest they could be all the time, so he made and stacked the masks in order of ‘happiness.’ She only puts that… thing on when she’s in a really dark place and cranks out those drawings like a motherfucker. It's really not healthy in the long run, and she knows it. It’s been something me and Ragatha have been trying to prevent. If we break the mask, it’ll just spawn under the bed again, so that's a no-go.”

“Oh, wow, I’m sooooo sorry! That must be so hard for you, mister ‘on the good side of the sociopath murderer!’ I apologize if I’m a bit freaked out by my death closet!”

“It’s really not that big of a deal! It’s just a bunch… Like, a LOT of red crayon. She wouldn't do anything, she’s harmless! She needs to vent somehow!” 

“‘Harmless?!’ She locked us in a room filling with poison!”

“Because- and I’m not naming names- one of the two of us decided to scribble evil eyebrows on her face. She doesn't usually make Saw traps when manic. I mean, this has been here and she’s never done anything! She didn't make this while abstracting if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I- I FUCKING KNOW THAT! I KNOW SHE WOULDN'T HAVE HAD THE GODDAMN CHANCE TO MAKE HER SNUFF JACK-OFF CHAMBER, ASSHOLE!” Jax grabbed them by the shoulders, frantically yelling at their face before turning tail and resting on his knees. He was breathing fast and heavily.

“...She wouldn't have had the chance?” Zooble said, a slight tone of anger creeping under their voice. Jax’s breath got caught as his eyes widened. “What… What do you mean by that?”

“O-oh. Oh! Did- did I say that? I meant- like, she couldn't have- have possibly have… Could have- drawn all this in… The possible time she had. Or could've had, I assume since- since I wasn't there. Abstraction is a short process, right? No, it isn't, you would know that. But- like- I’m-”

“How… Would you know how long it took for her to abstract? In fact, I don't even know how long it took. Or, coincidently, how she abstracted.” They started to step towards Jax, who was now facing them and sweating nervously. Their voice was more grim than he had ever heard. “You know, I never stopped to question how it could've happened. I guess it was too dreadful to think about! But, thinking about it now, I realize that there’s really only one possible cause. You best answer how direct that cause might’ve been because right now, I can only assume the worst possibility.”

Zooble towered over Jax, who was now on the floor, leaning as far back from them. His pupils shook from side to side as his voice got caught in his throat. It didn't even cross his mind to lie. “I- hah- uh- y'know, you- t-there's a very complex I- I- might’ve done a… Tiny murder. On her. Accidentally.”

“What.”

“M-murder isn't the best term for it, actually! She was m-more- put out of service for a day! But- when, uh- Caine brought her back, she was ab-abstracted. That is… But! She- she was- like, grabbing me, and… asking if I was okay. And she wanted me to open up so I could f-feel better. Uh… That’s- It’s- H-her tragedy mask never broke before! How was I-?”

As Jax trailed off, Zooble put their ‘hands’ to their face and took a deep breath. After a long silence, they continued. “Y’know? Maybe it’s good, what you did to her. If there wasn't some sort of villain like you in her life, I’m sure that vent art would be of herself, and that would be sad and upsetting. But looking at this?” Zooble gestured to the open closet. “I feel nothing. ”

“I-”

“No no! There’s no need to talk! I just want to know: have you ever considered that this could be your fault? That, maybe, just maybe, the drawings could be because of how you treated her? That this death trap is because of how you acted like the biggest tool I’ve personally ever seen? That’s a silly question to me, of course, because I know the answer is undoubtedly ‘yes.’ I just want to know- and be honest! Are you aware of that? That every bad thing that has happened to you has been entirely your own fault?”

Jax tried to say something in response, but Zooble continued. “Have you noticed the amount of bones I've been throwing to you? The branches I’ve been extending to you? I wish I could say that’s just because Gangle wanted me to, but no! If it was exclusively that reason alone, that would be another thing you could baselessly blame on her. No, most of my sympathy has been my own greedy desire for hope. Hope that you can be helped, if I just stick along and help you. To resist the urge to keep any bad blood against you. To keep quiet when you call me ‘mister’ despite how much that hurts, just because I think ‘Oh, he doesn't understand basic human empathy! How could I possibly explain complex gender and pronoun subjects? He’s clearly toting a fine line between asshole-atry and a full-blown hateful prick! Eventually, something will happen, that might finally teach him that other people are, in fact, human beings, and that's when I can tell him that it's making me uncomfortable!’ You can't be fixed. Fixed would imply that something is broken, but you? You are exactly how you were made. Filled with a malice and evil that will never be ‘fixed.’ You are the blight on this circus, the cancerous leech that cannot be removed. The only thing of note you have done with your life is bring back someone infinitely more talented and likable than you are. When you die, no one will grieve for you. There will only be me, dumping you into the shallow grave you deserve.”

“...I know you are, but what am I?”

“...”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and both of them quickly turned to look. Kinger spoke up from the other side. “Hello? Are you in there, Zooble?”

Jax wasted no time jumping up and slamming the side of his face against the door. “Thank GOD you’re here, you need to get us the HELL out of here!”

“Oh, hello Jax! Did you happen to lock yourself in there, and lose the key, and also accidentally start poisoning yourself? Don't lie, it happens to the best of us.”

“No, man! It was that suck-ass murderous party streamer with a god complex! Go and smash her face in and get us-!” Zooble shoved Jax out of the way, getting in front of the door.

“Don’t- don't listen to him. I mean, she did do this, but that’s because some hippity hoppity douche nozzle decided it would be fun to directly tamper with her brain chemistry. We have a cooool…” Zooble did the math in their head. “2 hours before we drop dead. Try and get the mask off without hurting her, alright?”

“Wait, that Gangle?” Joyce’s voice came from behind Kinger. “From the ‘dee-arey?’ Oh, I have so many questions for her!”

“Well, then we should get started! It shouldn't be that hard, she’s always popping out of the most unexpected places.” Kinger continued. “It’s good to hear that she's back. But may I ask, how did you two end up in this predicament?”

“I hope this doesn't come off as rude, but we’ll have time for pleasantries once we’re out of the poison gas room.” Zooble sighed. “I know I keep asking you to do things for me, but please, find her and get the key.”

“You’ve only asked me to do two things, Zooble. But I’m on it!” Zooble could hear the clinking of wood as Kinger karate-chopped his eyes with a salute again, and then they were off. Leaving the trapped pair in complete silence. Zooble took in a deep breath before sitting back on the bed, completely ignoring Jax on the way. He chose not to say anything either, rubbing his stomped-on foot.

It was a full hour before either of them spoke up. They were starting to get light-headed and loopy from the toxic fumes. Jax was fully laid out on the hard wooden floor, and Zooble was scrunched in half with a pillow in their lap.

Jax groaned and rubbed his throbbing skull. “Do ya- Do ya really think I’m that close to becoming a bigoted moron?”

Zooble mumbled into their pillow, barely able to lift their head to talk. “Man, I dunno. You’ve seen those people that, like, y'know. Seemed pretty cool, but, like, get one piece of criticism on their TV show's trans episode, and then do nothing but quote-retweet trans people and make fun of them. I guess you haven't actually seen those people, cause of the whole memory thing or whatever.”

“I was about to say, that sounds- sounds like a really specific example. I have no idea what you’re talking about, or what a ‘retweet’ is.”

“I don't either, I'm just saying words, man.” They rolled over on their side.

“Did you say that I seemed pretty cool?”

“In the sense that you didn't seem overly hateful. You were still an asshole from the moment I laid eyes on you. It’s not some achievement to- to not be a certain kind of asshole, asshole. You’re an asshole, by the way.”

“You could've just told me to stop callin’ you those things, y’know. I would've been cool with it.”

“Like hell you would,” Zooble said in the same hushed and tired tone. “If the person you were constantly fighting and arguing with told you, a person that naturally wants to piss people off, that your natural way of speaking made them uncomfortable and you’d need to consciously change it to make them feel better, would you have obliged?”

“When you put it like that, yeah, no. I absolutely would not have changed shit.”

“Another thing. I don't even feel right with that . It just doesn't feel good.”

“With what? Being nonbinary?”

“Yeah. Well, no. I mean- like, I don't know. It’s not like I did a bunch of soul-searching to find my pronouns or whatever, I just showed up without any sort of self and I know that being called he or she makes me feel like shit while being called they makes me feel like the normal amount of shit. I don’t know what I am, man, in any sense of the word. And now I'm calling- now I'm telling people to call me this or that without any sort of sure sign? I feel like I’m an imposter, y'know?”

“It sounds like you know exactly what you are. Maybe you’re just the normal amount of uncomfortable that we all are? You can remove your limbs and still move them around, that’ll probably not- not feel… good.” Jax flipped around, lying on his stomach. “Aren't there, like, trans people; that’s what they're called right? But, like, trans people. that get sex reassignment but keep their pronouns? Your genitals got deleted from existence, that’d probably cause some confusion.”

“I guess. Hm. I did want to, like, attach… Nevermind. God, I hope not, that’s awful. At least you got clothes. Every time I leave my room and join you all; rare, I know; there's always a split second of ‘Oh shit, I forgot to put any clothes on!’” 

“You wanna know something funny? I checked with Ragatha, Kaufmo, and whatever that clown girl's name was, all had clothes that couldn't be removed. It could be changed into themed attire by Caine, but it was still a part of their bodies. But not me. I can take off these country-bumpkin overalls and I have some irremovable boxers down there.”

“That’s… weird. Why did you get special treatment?” 

“Dunno. Maybe Caine just thought I was hot. Can't blame him.”

“Shut up.” Zooble’s legs were dangling over the edge of the bed, soon followed by the rest of them as they slid down, lying on the floor. They wished that the feeling of cold wood on bare ‘skin’ would make them feel better, but they didn't feel anything. It was just two bump-maps rubbing up against each other. “Hold up, you asked that clown girl? She was here for a week and you took that time to ask if she could take her clothes off?”

“I was formulating a theory, clearly.”

Zooble grumbled, letting the silence drag out a second longer than it should. “Y'know what? I’m sorry for flipping out on you like that. Your reaction to the closet was… Probably justified. Just don't hold it against her, she's harmless.”

“Alright. I accept your apology. That was a pretty fucked up thing to keep hidden.”

“...”

“...”

“...Are… Are you not going to-?” Zooble asked, looking over at Jax.

“Hm? What?”

“Not to sound like a kindergarten teacher, but- are you not going to apologize for anything? I just figured, with how the gas is loosening our lips and everything.”

“What? Nah, I haven't got shit to apologize for.”

“You did murder her.”

“That was self-defense! Look at that closet, she was going to kill me eventually if I didn't stand my ground.”

“Really?”

“I don't care what you say, she’s clearly an insane bitch. If it's because of, or in addition to her bipolar, I don't care. Just reign in your psycho girlfriend. Also, what did you mean by ‘get the mask off without hurting her?’ How the hell would anyone manage that?”

“Well, I'm not sure what I expected from you, but wow. I'm still sorry, but fuck you.”

“Good.”

Zooble took a deep breath before waving their hand in front of their face. They could see a slight trail behind it. “We have, like, 15 minutes left. Are- cough- are we about to die?”

“I dunno. Probably. I really don't want one of my last conversations to have been about your genitalia. Wasn't even about mine , that’s the worst part.” Jax couldn't even muster the energy to turn his head to face them. “Can you, like, abstract yourself or something? I know they can break down doors and stuff. I’ll figure out a way to reverse it, promise. Pretty promise.”

“It’s ‘pinkie promise.’”

“You only have, like, 100 words left in your life. Do you have to spend them this way?”

Suddenly, the recognizable sound of Joyce’s heavy metal footsteps came from outside. The trapped pair perked up their heads. Kinger was presumably with them, but he was silent as ever. Zooble and Jax barely managed to get to their feet and shamble to the door. 

“Hello?” Zooble feebly uttered, already sitting down in front of the door to save their knees the trouble. “Key?”

“Yes, hello, this is- this is Kinger,” he said, obviously stilted. “I have the key right here, in my hand. But I am choosing- Hold on a moment- To not use it. I am leaving you both to your do- your doom, because, as it turns out, I hate- uh- I hate you. Moo… hah hah.”

“...Are you reading off a script? Is Gangle showing you cue cards?”

“...She says no.”

Zooble pounded on the door as hard as they could. “Gangle! Can you hear me?”

There was an audible clearing of a throat before Gangle made herself known. She was going for an intimidating voice that she could not pull off. “So… You two have found my little gift, have y-”

“Shut UP! Get me out of here you psycho!” Jax yelled as loud as he could. “If you- if you let me out, I’ll… I will… Tell you where the treasure is buried!”

“Ignore him.” Zooble interrupted. “Gangle, please. It’s me, Zooble, your friend. Your best friend? Sorry, I don't want to be too forward, but-” 

“Quiet! What’s done is done, and you all deserve what’s coming!” Gangle snapped back. Zooble shook their head, frustrated.

“I don't know what you expected. Your name was on the paper. Somehow. Actually, how the hell did you know that we would be here?” Jax immediately regretted asking such a pointless question, but it was too late.

“Oh, well, that’s a long story, but… I can simplify it! I was actually in my closet while you were in there! I thought it would only be Jax- I actually believed him about the ‘everybody else being dead thing’. I just erased some words so it would make sense.” Gangle rambled on. Zooble heard the recognizable scratching sound of two ribbons rubbing together. They knew her well enough to understand that she was rubbing her hands together as she talked. This made them raise an eyebrow in thought. 

“Wow, you managed to sneak out right behind us? That’s really impressive,” Zooble said, formulating a plan. Jax looked at them like they were crazy. “Did you- ahem - Did you just know that Jax’s plan would involve going into your room?” 

“Kind of. I was just going to leave the door open, and when he went inside- WHAM! Lock the door behind him! Remember that part of the note where I was talking about you touching my stuff? Get this- that was meant to refer to Jax scribbling on my mask, but it worked perfectly with you two trying to fix one of my masks!” Gangle began to fidget more aggressively, flapping her ribbons around excitedly and shifting feet.

“Really? Oh, man, that’s crazy. What about right now? How’d you manage to capture those two? I’m assuming you have both of them, I can't exactly see them.”

“I have both of them, yeah! The robot just doesn't have much to say, I guess. But it was super easy! I have plenty of ribbons to go around, so I was able to hog-tie them down and drag them over here!” Zooble could hear the light footsteps as Gangle began to pace back and forth, exactly as planned. “I couldn't get here as fast as I wanted, cause I needed to write down the whole script and everything. There were plenty of spare supplies in the library to do so, just like how I- Ohshit-”

There was a loud crash, accompanied by the sound of porcelain shattering.

Zooble waited a second before talking. “...Did you trip over your own feet?”

“...Yeah…” Gangle pitifully responded.

“...Can you unlock the door now?”

“...Yeah.”

“I’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSOSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY!” Gangle wailed, attaching herself to Zooble. Despite wearing a repaired comedy mask, tears still streamed down her face. The idea of her sunny disposition being her normal, untampered personality made Jax sick to his stomach.

“I-it’s fine! Jeez, really, it's alright!” Zooble attempted to peel her off, but she was fully stuck to them, apologizing profusely. They were used to this situation by now. Kinger draped a blanket over Zooble’s shoulders, who was still a bit woozy from the near asphyxiation. “Go apologize to Jax or something. He only deserved it a little.”

“Don’t you dare get close to me,” Jax scowled, scooting across the circus floor away from the two of them. As soon as they were let out, they were shepherded to the makeshift base/pile of pillows. Joyce kept putting blankets over Jax, who was too exasperated to deny them. He was up to 6 blankets around him at this point.

“Well. That settles that, I guess,” Zooble remarked, pulling in the blanket further. Gangle looked confused at Jax’s sheepishness, turning back to Zooble.

“Did he see-?”

“I mean, yeah. Obviously.”

“Oh.” Gangle frowned. She was quickly lost in thought, taking a bit to break the silence. “Jax? I’m… Sorry that you had to see that. Please don’t think any less of me, that- that isn't what I’m normally like!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, tell whichever of your multiple identities decided to put pen to paper to stay buried or- I swear to Christ-mas- I will self-defense your face into the curb.” Jax slumped out of all of the blankets; they fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He stormed off in the direction of his room. Zooble and Gangle watched, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Uh.” Zooble turned their head to Gangle. “Don’t- Don’t listen to him.”

Joyce was already picking up the blankets again, while Kinger resumed idly talking and teaching them about bugs; something he was usually doing in the background. Gangle separated from Zooble, eyebrow raised as she asked “What does he mean by ‘self-defense?’”

“Oh, well… He thinks he was totally justified when he murdered you ‘cause of the closet and stuff, so he keeps calling it self-defense. Don’t mind what- what…” Zooble noticed Gangle’s expression of confusion change to bewilderment. “Oh. Did you… Not know?”

“I- huh. I mean, it certainly makes sense in hindsight , that's for sure! It just went black, I dunno!” She leaned back against the floor, exhaling. “We all make mistakes, though. We’re probably even in the grand scheme of things now!”

“You are absolutely not, are you kidding me? I do not get how you keep up with being the bigger person.”

“Well, I’m the biggest person here! Tallest, I mean. I just don't show it because of my curly-fry scoliosis.” Gangle excitedly explained. Zooble exhaled through their nose, a shiver going up their spine and curling up deeper in the blanket. Gangle patted them on the back. “1000 imagined murders probably equals one real one.”

Suddenly, Jax’s voice came from across the circus, a punctuated “Damnit!” followed by the thumping of him kicking his door. Zooble looked back at Gangle. 

“Do you still have his keys?”

“Oh. Uh, hold on-” Gangle said, feeling around in whatever hammerspace pocket that was inside of her. She heard something jingle. “Yep!”

“Nice.”

Chapter Text

Caine appeared in the middle of the circus with a glorious bang, arriving in a cloud of confetti with arms outstretched. 

“I'M GLAD TO SEE ALL OUR MEMBERS HAVE JOINED US FOR ANOTHER HEART-WRENCHING, GUT-BUSTING ADVENTURE OF IMPECCABLE QUALITY!!”

A crusty sound file of a single person clapping played from Bubble, who was the only being in the room. He was floating down where the cast members used to, wearing a party hat for whatever reason. He added an enthusiastic “Woohoo!” Which echoed pitifully off the once-vibrant circus walls.

Caine quickly teleported next to him, throwing his arm around Bubble’s non-existent shoulders. “GLAD TO HEAR THAT YOU’RE EXCITED! I KNOW IT MUST BE HARD, CONSIDERING IT’S YOUR… FIRST DAY.”

“Something something, exit, something something!”

“YEAH. Yeah…” Caine said, with an unheard-of somberness. He quickly jumped back into his usual showmanship, slapping the back of his hand against his fore-teeth with an exaggerated sigh. “OH, BUBBLE! IT’S JUST NOT THE SAME! HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE JAX… Y’KNOW?”

“2 years, 5 months, and 27 days!” Bubble tilted his head and entire body. “But shouldn't you know that?”

“OH, I’M GETTING RUSTY! IT’S BEEN TOO LONG! WHAT IF THE NEXT PERSON JOINS TOMORROW AND I CAN BARELY DO LONG DIVISION? I SHUDDER AT THE UTTER EMBARRASSMENT!” 

He quickly teleported back to his usual spot with a decisive clap.

“AND THAT’S WHY WE NEED TO KEEP UP WITH THESE PRACTICES! NOW, WHERE WAS I…AH YES!“ Caine cleared his throat, which— much like bubbles shoulders— was not actually there.“I'M ABSOLUTELY ESTATIC TO SEE THAT OUR MEMBERS HAVE DECIDED TO JOIN US FOR ANOTHER TOE-CURLING ADVENTURE TO REALLY KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF AFOREMENTIONED CURLED TOES!”

Bubble, for no real reason, was now wearing a fake mustache. “Something something, I’m sad, something something!”

An abstraction with no real distinguishing features was currently beating a chair into the dirt. It was so engaged in this it only left the poor thing alone once it was halfway clipped into the floor and jiggling all over the place, completely unrecognizable as a chair— it looked more like a deformed spider with mommy issues. 

Gangle felt like she should've brought a bucket of popcorn. 

Zooble was with her, perched on the top of Kinger’s makeshift wall, watching the dozens of the lumbering beasts go about their business. Like watching goldfish swim around a bowl, if goldfish were the size of schoolbuses and also not fish.

“But you see what I mean, right?” Zooble was saying, “There should not be that many of them. From what the hallway seems to suggest, there were only, like, 15 real people, counting us. It looks like there's closer to 50 now. None of the rooms in the cast hallway have new portraits. Like I said, makes no sense.”

Gangle rubbed her forehead, the skybox-less sky (which was therefore screentearing like crazy) giving her a headache. “Huh, that’s strange! How long has it been since I, y’know…abstracted?”

Zooble shuddered.

“…No clue.”

“Well, it seems like it’s been quite a bit!” Gangle said, gesturing out to the dark, corrupted grounds. “And nobody joined in all that time? That’s weird!” She rocked back on her ribbons, twirling them in little loops as she thought. “Maybe there's a secret second cast hallway tucked away somewhere?”

Gangle glanced back at the abstraction that had just finished demolishing another poor, unsuspecting chair. Who’s been putting all these chairs outside? It slunk away, turning into a blob of vertices and twisting polygons. Still frowning after it— gee, what did chairs after do to that guy?— Gangle continued; “Maybe they aren't people? I mean, it seems like there's individual, unique abstractions, then there's a giant group of small blobby ones that just sorta… hang around. And beat up chairs.”

“I wouldn't call them ‘small,’ they're a foot taller than me.” Zooble grumbled, turning to her. “But you think those are just, like, NPCs?”

“I dunno! I don't know how any of this works, but I’m sure there’s gotta be a difference! The eye-tubes around the tent stare at us all the time, and they're not previous cast members. …I hope.”

“Damn. We should be writing this down.”

Gangle suddenly gasped and turned to face Zooble, her eyes wide. Zooble was alarmed until she actually spoke, her voice upbeat. “Ohmygosh that's a great idea! We can be like, y’know, scientists— Cool scientists!! — researching anomalies, like some kind of SCP thing!!”

“What? You mean CPS?”

“Children aren’t anomalies!! Fine, it’s a detective themed journal instead!” Gangle huffed, poking Zooble. “And anyway, my POINT is that it’d be super useful! If we log all the information about them in one place, we’ll never lose it!”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Yeah, but still!”

Gangle’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud creaking noise. Zooble just wanted to shift their feet, but the hastily made wall groaned, saying how it was, indeed, hastily made. It slightly ruined the fun-time mood they had going. It was left unsaid, but it fully sank into both of them how dangerous this was. Kinger and Ragatha had told them how horrible it felt to get pummeled by those things, and there wasn’t any Caine to fix them.

“Hey, you know what? I think you’ve gotten a full grasp of the new and debatably improved circus!” Zooble said, as always being the first to broach something unsaid. “I think we’re good to… touch solid ground again, don’t you think?” Gangle tried to nod to them, but Zooble was already lowering themselves off.

Zooble helped Gangle down, making sure nothing broke. It was a very tall gate. How Kinger managed it was still beyond them. Gangle dusted herself off. “Has anything else changed while I was gone? I know Jax certainly hasn't, amirite?” She attempted to playfully elbow Zooble, but it was like poking a beanbag chair with a blade of grass. 

Zooble amusedly hummed and nodded. “Yeah… You do know how you abstracted, right? Jax and all that?”

“The whole murder thing? I put it together eventually. …After I had already tried to poison him. Sorry for trapping you in a room with him, blegh!” Gangle said, finding something else to apologize for after saying sorry for the attempted murder five thousand times.

“Don’t worry. All that did was give me ample opportunity to lay into him, just really berate his ass. Well, I mean… I didn’t lay into him that hard, I think. It’s actually kinda fuzzy now, but I recall a buncha talking.”

“Wait, so, hold on— You just talked to him? That doesn't seem like you!”

“Yeah, well… actually, now that I think about it, why didn't I clock him? Shit, wait, I talked to him about gender stuff! I- I think I apologized to him at one point! Oh, stupid fucking poison gas! Making me all chill and shit… I mean, I always wished I could get high here, but I didn't want it to be off poison gas for fucks sake!” 

Zooble cried, angrily shaking  their crab-claw in the air. 

“And not with Jax. Actually, remove the Jax, and the poison fumes don't sound so bad.

“I mean, I think I get what I was thinking. Normally when I'm faced with someone that awful I'd just roll my eyes or tell them to shut up. But, like, with Jax, I needed to fix the problem. He was- is, such a tool, and I couldn't stand by while he hurt people, especially.. y’know. you.” Zooble placed their hand on Gangle's shoulder, causing her to straighten up. “I've had a lot of convos with Ragatha about this, actually. We couldn't kill him- not as, like, a moral thing, just physically- so we had to find work-arounds and stuff.”

“We talked a lot about why he did the things he does, and Ragatha and I thought that he was just an asshole cause everyone thought he was an asshole, and he was trapped in his own asshole paradox. Now that I've given him the benefit of the doubt 50 times over, I think he's simply just a douche!” 

Zooble pinched the area between their eyes with the hand they always had attached to them. 

“Sorry, sorry. I'm not usually the one out of the two of us to go on rants,” Zooble opened their eyes a crack to look at Gangle and make sure they weren’t crossing over into a mean territory. Gangle, knowing exactly what they were doing, gave a reassuring grin. 

“But- god, he just boils my blood! And when I learned that he killed you, no bullshit, no indirect routes on this highway of fuckatudes, I just- nothing! Moved on!” 

“W-well, you learned that I was alive in the same conversation, right? That’d probably lessen the blow of a murder confession, if the murder victim was fine. Well, ‘fine’ in the sense that I was alive.” 

“Yeah, you're right. I don't think I ever fully comprehended you being dead. It was just Caine’s funeral thing, then boom! A haze of me sleeping for god knows how long, followed by my, uh, ‘death’ i guess. …God, and not to add another ‘but’ to this, but- if I had learned the truth back when you were killed? I don't know what I would've done! Probably… probably realize that I couldn't do shit to him and… sleep for god knows how long, followed by my death. Man, fuck Jax. And it fuckin’ sucks, cause I've listened to enough guidance counselors to know this is exactly what he wants! For me to go and talk ‘bout him, let him invade my fuckin’ mind palace or whatever, and- y’know? Maybe that's fine, god damnit! Talking shit makes me feel good! Maybe there can be two winners! I can share the goddamn podium! Jax can't, cause he's a selfish pot of piss, but I can!” Zooble threw up their hands, head slightly back as they yelled in a whisper. 

Gangle silently turned to Zooble with a concerned expression, slightly extending a ribbon towards them. Zooble let out a deep breath, lowering their arms. Gangle wrapped their hand around theirs, giving it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I'm making myself tired again.” 

“No, no! You should be able to talk about this! Trust me, I know I've gone on louder and much longer tirades,” Gangle said with a light chuckle. Zooble nodded, which in Zooble terms, equated to a hearty laugh. “I'm very thankful you tried so hard to help me! Don't think for a moment that this is one of those things where you use me as a vessel for your own feelings and needs when I couldn't care less. Y’know like a… like one of those sport parents. You're nothing like that. You did a-exactly what I wanted.” 

“Hm. Thanks, yeah, that’s… Yeah, that’s like, the exact thought process that was starting up. Actually, holy shit, wow! How’d you do that?” 

“O-oh! Well, um… We do tend to hang out a lot!” 

“Well, great job, you little fuckin’… thought sniper,” Zooble said, tussling the top of her mask. It was a bit awkward without hair, but Gangle still liked it. She slightly laughed before continuing.

“Hey, you mentioned something about Caine’s funeral? I don't imagine it was a funeral for Caine, so… did Caine try to throw a funeral? For me? How was it? I would love to be able to say that my funeral was sick as heck.” Zooble thought to themselves for a moment. Maybe it would be best to just let Gangle believe that there was a tasteful ceremony for her.

“Nah, it sucked dick.” They've been almost completely honest with everything they said so far, why stop now? Hell, they even told Kinger that they thought he’d abstract next to his face, which… actually, maybe they should've bit their tongue for that one. “Caine was being a dumbass, like always, and tried to turn into some farcical adventure.” 

“Oh. Was it fun?” 

“I wasn't there, I left immediately, for… obvious reasons.” 

“Do you know what it was about? It’s my funeral, I deserve to know.” 

“Uh, yeah, let me think. As much as my brain is trying to get me to forget it, I don't think that'll ever happen. It was an in-house adventure, and it was kinda like a murder-’ Zooble stopped mid sentence, freezing in place. Slowly, they put their hands together as best as the two pieces could, bringing it to their face. They let out a deep sigh before continuing in the most defeated tone imaginable. “...A murder mystery. We had to. Find out. Who… killed you. I'm going to find a safe, far away underground bunker to put you in, and then, I'm going to walk to the direct center of this circus, and throw a nuclear bomb directly at my feet.”

Jax scowled as he sat and watched. Kinger was sharing something with Joyce, and they both seemed so excited about it. Whatever it was, it-

Wack!

Jax cursed and doubled over, rubbing the back of his head. Turning around, Zooble was standing over him with an extended fist. Gangle was right behind them.

“Ah- What the hell!?” Jax yelled, rubbing the back of his head. Zooble returned their arm to their side. Quite literally, as Zooble had removed their arm from their socket and swung it like a baseball bat. Still, Jax let a mischievous grin come to his face. “Aw, Zooble! I thought we were besties now! After how nice you wereee…” He dragged out the last syllable of that, looking at Gangle for her reaction, probing for something to get under their skin.

“Oh, fucking quit it, dude. We were just on our way to get Gangle’s stuff, and the back of your head was too tantalizing to be left alone. Count your blessings I didn’t go get my metal arm to clock you, that thing is heavy as shit. That’d get you seeing stars, for sure. And I mean that literally, I’ve seen stars orbiting your head when you get hit particularly hard.”

Still rubbing the back of his head, Jax rolled his eyes and got back to eavesdropping. Despite the loud thwack, Kinger was not deterred from teaching Joyce whatever he knew about bugs. “Yeah, I get it. Clearly you’ve been watching how my body works closely, and really, who can blame you? But I’d prefer if you two went gal-paling around somewhere else, I’ve got important shit to do.”

Zooble’s detached arm’s fist clenched. They turned to Gangle, offering it to her. “Here, your turn. I’ve been wanting to see you swing at him for a while now.”

Gangle timidly pushed the arm away. “I’m sorry, I- I just can’t. I… shouldn’t.”

“What? Why?” Zooble asked, worried they’d stepped too far.

“I just… I’m… not strong enough to swing it properly. It wouldn’t make a satisfying enough ‘thwack.’ You should do it. Again. Repeatedly.”

Jax groaned, running his hands down his face. “God, can’t you listen? I said to go somewhere else. I’m trying to figure some important shit out!” 

Zooble returned their arm to their socket, their curiosity only barely outpacing their desire to take Gangle up on her request. They’d have to do it later. “Important shit? How do you mean?”

Jax created and then raised his eyebrows. “Oh, well… Pretty easily. Comes naturally, I guess.”

“What? Oh. Oh, fuck off! What do you mean. Asshole.”

“That’s more like it,” Jax said, crossing his arms behind his head. “I’m trying to get a full psychological profile on Robot Jones over here. From what I’ve heard, I can confidently say that he’s a psychopathic murder.”

“Yeah… no.” Gangle remarked. “I don’t think you even know their name yet.”

“Sure I do! What was it? ‘Cheery?’ Something stupidly on the nose.” 

Zooble flicked their head to the side to silently ask if Gangle wanted to leave, to which she nodded. “Alright fucknuts, we’re gonna be going now. It feels like we’ve done nothing but banter for the past few days,” Zooble said, already moving with Gangle quickly behind. “But don’t try to do anything, because I’ll know.”

“...I’m not talking about Jax too much, am I? I’m not a girl, but I feel like Bechdel would still be pissed.” Zooble said, rubbing their arm anxiously. Gangle shook her mask with a click of porcelain, scanning the crossed-out portraits for a specific room. “It’s just- It’s crazy that he’s just, out there. Doing whatever he wants. It was bad enough with Caine, but now his action can easily do permanent damage. Not that they couldn't before, clearly. Does he just not realize?”

“Oh, he realizes,” Gangle said, frowning. “I know he acts like a moody child, but he knows the difference between right and wrong. He just prefers the wrong. I don’t know what he’s trying to do watching those two, but it’s not like he thinks they’re dangerous or anything. He might think they’re even more helpless than me, who knows! …eugh, I know way too much about how his mind works,” Gangle said as she stopped at Jax’s door, pulling out his keyring. She tied a knot around it using her own body. “Anyway, we’re here! Going in his room is definitely going to get us to stop talking about him.” She giggled to herself, and her attempt to be sarcastic.

Once the door was unlocked, she opened it up and went straight inside. Zooble didn’t bother looking at the interior, instead following Gangle straight inside the closet. It was dark even with the door open, but Zooble spotted an ancient looking oil lantern on one of the many shelves. In a move typical of the circus, it had an out-of-place switch on it that made it light up like an LED strip.

Once the closet was properly illuminated, Zooble immediately spotted the goal. A giant white bag made out of a non-discernible material. They crouched down and untied the top, revealing that it was full of various figures and videos that once populated Gangle’s shelves. Thankfully they were unharmed, but if Zooble knew anything about Gangle- which they did- they knew that she would NEVER get around to decorating and sorting her room again. She’d just take what she wanted out of the bag, and then put it back in the bag without thinking.

“Hey- Gangle?” Zooble looked up, expecting to see her looking into the bag too, but she was already busy looking around the walk-in closet.

“Check it out!” Gangle said cheerfully, beckoning Zooble over. Shrugging, they followed her inside. Lining the shelves were various trinkets and items with no discernable theme. “He had me dust all these several times, despite the lack of… Dust. Apparently, he managed to steal something from every adventure he’s ever gone on, and Caine never caught him. Honestly, if my mask hadn’t been knocked off 90% of the time, I probably would’ve done the same thing!” Gangle said, already examining a rack filled with a mountain of now-useless keys. 

Zooble inquisitively raised their eyebrows, the only way their face can really show emotions. They couldn’t assign a single item to its responding adventure, due to their constant truancy. Ironically, the only thing they couldn’t see in the closet was his clothes. They picked up an oversized cartoony revolver. From what they remember from adventures with guns, they're incapable of running out of ammo. Meaning it was still probably loaded. They gingerly placed it back onto the shelf. “Yeah, you probably would do something like this. I’m not sure we really need any of this, though.”

“We don't need them to take them, silly!” 

Gangle turned around, wearing a mismatch of a Sherlock-esc detective hat, a mayor sash, and a baseball glove. Zooble remembered the hat as the one Bubble wore during that god-awful murder mystery. 

Gangle was excitedly offering them a shirt, which they reluctantly took. “Y'know what? I guess I've never thought of it that way. Don’t take too much stuff, though.” They slipped on the shirt, tilting their head to the side for a very tight squeeze. It was blue, with ‘Vacay 86’ written in big obnoxious letters. Zooble smoothed it out as they looked at it. “Wow. God, I’d completely forgotten how good it feels to wear clothes.” 

“I know, right?” Gangle gushed as she continued to puruse the shelves. “And you look so cute in that! Baggy clothes really suit you.” Calling each other cute is best-friend stuff, right? Zooble quickly turned back to the shelves, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ as they continued browsing.

She winced as her ribbon got slightly shocked by the electric collar from the dog training adventure. That one had to be cut short after Kaufmo’s turn. She decides to not think about it any further. 

Zooble found an old, leather-bound book. On the inside of the cover, the previous owner's long fancy name was scribbled out, replaced with ‘if lost, return this property to: J A x. Despite the fancy nature of the outside, it was filled with normal school-lined paper. “Hey, you said you wanted a journal for research? You think this’ll work?”

Gangle looked up from the well-worn ball and paddle she was inspecting, the one item that seemed to have any use by Jax. “Oh? I mean, yes, of course! I wasn't really being serious about it though.”

“Yeah, well, I am now. I could use some steady ‘arms,’ as these things aren't going to write notes properly.” Zooble wiggled their plastic, wobbly arms. Gangle hummed somberly, remembering how they told her about once being an artist, before they were turned into whatever they are now. “I’ve been very interested in… ‘something,’ or at least looking into that ‘something,’ y'know? Just haven't had the most… capable of task members.”

“Awwwww, Zooble! Are you finally getting interested in something?” Gangle excitedly asked, wrapping her ribbons around their arm like some particularly feisty kudzu vines. . “What is it?”

“Don’t- don't get your hopes up, it’s not, like, a fan-don or whatever you said they're called,” Zooble said, scratching the back of their head. “I dunno why, but I really want to figure out how to do the whole unabstraction thing we’ve all been doing. Figure out the mechanics of it.”

“Well, of course you’re interested! I’ve been curious myself, and bringing people back from the dead has to be the best feeling. It’s only natural that you’d want to help your friends!”

“‘Friends’ is a… Strong term. I mean, have you met me? Helping people is not usually my jam. Maybe cause it feels unintentional or something. It’s certainly exciting to feel like I’m breaking the code or going behind Caine’s probably-now-dead back. Fight the power and all that. Row row.” Zooble waved their hand and shook their head. “Whatever, that’s not important. What is important is that if we actually start researching, we need to keep it a secret.”

Gangle pulled back from her hug. “What? Why?”

“Well, Jax is Jax, and Joyce probably can’t keep a secret. And Kinger… Well, he’s capable enough to help now, but he’s only capable because he doesn't know. It was before you got here, but he finally managed to accept his wife’s death, so I’m a bit scared that telling him that she could be brought back to life would send him on another year long downward spiral.”

Gangle tilted her head with a mix of excitement and confusion. “His wha- his who died?”

“Oh. Well, him and Queenie probably weren't officially married, but I thought it was safe to just call her his wife.”

“‘Queenie?’ Wait, so that one other abstracted chess person- her and Kinger were a thing? Like a couple? A pair? An item? Like they were together together???” Gangle asked excitedly, sounding more and more like a Naruto fan slowly realizing they’ve found someone who made it to season #67.

“Yeahh…?” Zooble replied, with the caution of someone who’s been hate-watching since season 2. “I’m assuming they just arrived together. What did you think they were?”

“I thought they were mortal enemies.”

Zooble just stared at her. Gangle stared right on back..

“You know, because they were black and white? Opposing sides in chess?? Enemies to lovers 60k?!?” Gangle grabbed her hands together and put them to her chest with joy. “Oh, but this is so much better! I can imagine it now: a tragic romance, a couple sentenced to the same eternal fate; sticking it to the man by still being full of happiness and life, all because of their shared love. A love that’d melt even the most closed-off of hearts, proving to them that love can bloom in a digital circus!!”

Zooble was 99% sure they’d never watched a shitty romcom before, but this is probably what it feels like.

“...Mhm. Yeah. I mean, one of them- both of them, actually- did die, but-”

“ Zooble,” Gangle said, grabbing them by the shoulders. “I don’t care what it takes, we have to bring her back. The future of love itself depends on it.” 

“I- What?”

“Come on! Don’t you believe in love? Don’t you believe that it can bloom anywhere, anytime? Don't you believe that it’s something worth fighting for?”

“I- Uh- I mean, yeah, that’s the moral in a lot of the stuff you show me. I just don’t know what that has to do with-”

“Oh, it has everything to do with this. This isn’t just a way to thank Kinger, nor only a way to help those in need. This is a way to show how powerful love is, and how it’s never locked away, no matter how horrible this circus may be!”

“What are we even talking about right now? Can we please just get back on track?” Zooble said, clearly flustered and confused. “Just- put everything back and bring the notebook, we’ll start quote-un-quote ‘researching’ how unabstract people. And yes, we’ll start with Queenie, fine,” Zooble teased. “I would recommend not taking anything we don’t need, but I am not taking this shirt off. So, to be fair, let’s just take one thing from here, not counting the notebook. For now. That seems fair.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, not sounding especially mad about it. She pulled off all the random accessories she had around her, before glancing back at the detective hat. “I’ll keep the hat. No one will take us seriously if one of us isn't wearing this.”

“And- would you believe it- the butterfly jar was in my other hand the entire time!”

“Wow!” Joyce responded excitedly. They were listening to Kinger tell stories that most would consider boring, but to Joyce, (who’d never heard a story in their entire life,) they were extremely interesting. They were lying on their stomach and stiffly kicking their legs back and forth like a schoolgirl, clearly enjoying themselves. 

“Yeah, riveting,” a bored voice said from behind them. The pair turned to find Jax lounging around behind them, impatiently tapping his foot. 

Kinger cautiously put the encyclopedia he had out back into his cloak. “Oh. Hello, Jax. How long have you been listening?”

“Long enough to be just short of pulling my ears off,” Jax said, immediately realizing that he should be trying to get on their good side instead of spouting whatever snark happened to come to his head.

Luckily, Joyce didn't seem to care. They patted the pile of pillows next to them, inviting him to sit down. “You should join us! Kinger was just about to tell me about aphids!”

“That-! That really won’t be necessary. Really,” Jax frantically insisted. He sat down, choosing to be a few feet away from the robot. So he could read their reactions. He decided to start with small talk, trying to get on their good side. “How about you? Why don't you tell us about yourself? Like- uh- whatdopeople- your interests or whatever.”

“Oh, okay! Well, I like insects now,” Joyce said, tapping their claw to their chin, trying to think of anything else. “Oh, and amusement park rides! I love roller coasters. 68.3 percent of my time here was spent riding them!-”

Jax pinched where the bridge of his nose would be. “ Jesus Christ-mas, are you 7 years old?” Jax muttered under his breath just a bit too loud. It gave him an idea, however. “Y’know, how old are you? You sound wise beyond your years, that's for sure.”

“I dunno!”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “You… don’t know?”

“Nope! I can’t remember anything about my life outside the circus, other than  the fact that I had one. That’s normal, right?”

Jax thought to himself. He was also confused at times on what the circus allowed him to remember and what it made him forget. The only constant was that everything after 3 months before joining the circus was extremely foggy. Still, it seemed like every cast member remembered a lot about their past life; everyone except Joyce. In fact, your age when joining the circus was always something you remembered. The fact that Joyce can’t recall that is extremely abnormal!

“No, that’s completely normal,” Jax responded after being silent for far too long.

Kinger raised his hand. “Am I allowed to continue talking about-?”

“No. So, uh, Joystick was it?”

“Joyce,” they replied. 

“Right. How’d you come up with that one?”

“I… didn’t? That’s just my name!” Joyce enthusiastically replied. Jax couldn’t help but let his face turn into a sneer. Despite what he might’ve told Caine when he first got here, Jax did not get the luxury of remembering his name.

Hiding his jealousy, Jax continued.  “When you talk about getting here, when was that? A month ago? 2 months? Just a rough estimate would be fine.”

“5 years, 3 months, and 14 days.”

“Well, I refuse to believe that's possible, so we’re going to quickly move on from that.” Throughout the questioning, Jax had started to sit cross legged, one hand thoughtfully holding his head up. “During the month or 2 you've been here, what have you been thinking? What really keeps you going, day after day?”

“Oh, that's a toughie! Well, I had no idea abstatic-ing was a thing that could happen, so not knowing that was a load off my shoulders! Plus, I’m really looking forward to escaping the circus. Again, I don't remember much about the outside world, but I can just imagine it- feeling wind blow through my hair as the roller coaster cruises down its track, actual adrenaline with every hitch and bump-” Joyce said, eyes closed. “Oh, with all of us working together, it’s only a matter of time!”

“Yeah, sure,” Jax said, standing up and exaggeratedly stretching. “Well, I’m bored, so that means we're done here. Thanks for your time, I’m going to go do something better with my life.”

Once Jax walked away, Joyce looked to Kinger. He shrugged.

For the second time that day, Zooble helped Gangle down from Kinger’s hodge-podge of a wall. After tossing Gangle’s bag o’ hyperfixations into her room, she had convinced them to actually go through with making a ‘research journal,’ and insisted that Zooble did the writing. Since Gangle weighed enough to be swept away by a light breeze, it was decided that she would be the one to stand on top of the creaky, rickety death trap. She yelled down the things she saw for them to mark down, but it seemed like there was nothing else of note to write by this point. Zooble delicately placed Gangle onto the floor, immediately getting back to writing once she was steady.

“You’re sure about this, right? My handwriting is dogshit, I’m definitely not the best for the job of note taking,” Zooble asked for the 3rd time, lifting their head from their frantic scribbling. 

“Of course! If you want to get better at drawing, you need to practice your form. I’ll go back and illustrate later.” Gangle tilted her head at Zooble’s arm. “...Try using your shoulder.”

“I don't have a shoulder, I have a connection point.”

“Isn't that what a shoulder is?”

“...Fair.” Zooble closed the notebook with one hand, shaking their wrist on the other. They had just finished marking down every unique abstraction they could spot. Before that, they had tried to figure out what happened to Caine, but that led to nothing but a list of possibilities and no evidence to one thing or the other. 

On brighter news, they found an abstraction that they were 90 percent sure was Queenie. They attempted to match every cast member with what they thought was them now, which was emotionally taxing. They promised themselves that they would help them next.

“You know what I don't get? If everyone’s abstractions matches how they used to look, then why does Kaufmo’s look like some giant animal?” Zooble continued.

“Y’know, I wondered that myself! I hate to say it, but it must be because of that-” Gangle caught herself. “Wait. You weren't on that adventure, right? Maybe it’s best if you stay in the dark with this one.”

“Huh?”

“What’s next for bringing Queenie back, anyway? We’ve already figured out which abstraction she is, and we’ve- actually, that’s all we’ve done. We should figure out how to unabstract her, that seems like an important step.”

“Right, right. How do we… Hm. What do you remember? About abstracting and unabstracting, I mean.”

“Well, I don't really think mine counts as a real abstraction, due to being murdered and all. What I recall… I was looking up at Jax, and then I blinked and I woke up with a headache looking up at Jax again. I thought we had teleported for a second!” Gangle looked over at Zooble. They were squeezing their forearm, already wanting to punch Jax again. She quickly changed the subject. “What about you? What can you remember?”

“Eugh… I don’t really want to get into my own, non-hypothetical death. I’ll just say that I think it involved a bunch of swearing. Both before and after unabstracting.”

“Hm. Do you think that it’s something to do with what you’re doing right before abstracting? Maybe the brain needs a smooth transition back to life! That's what the pattern seems to suggest,” Gangle said, trying to sound scientific.

“2 is hardly a pattern, especially when 1 of us could be considered an outlier. Plus, wouldn't that make abstraction impossible? If you need to be experiencing the same thing before and after abstraction, wouldn't it immediately cancel out?”

“I dunno, maybe there's a cool-down period! It’s the best lead we’ve got. You know-” Gangle snapped, something that should've been physically impossible. “-we should interview Kinger! We could ask him what he remembers about abstracting. Plus, I’m sure anything we learn about Queenie would help us deabstractize her, however that may be done.”

“Hm,” Zooble hummed, holding a hand to their ‘chin’ in thought. “I guess that’d be fine. As long as we don't reveal why we’re asking all this. And try to ease into it, alright? I’m still real worried about him.”

Kinger was still sitting with Joyce, but now it seemed that the conversation had shifted. He was now trying to help the robot position their pincers properly on a bug net.

Zooble cleared their throat. Kinger looked up, finding them and Gangle standing in front of him. Zooble barely lifted their hand in a wave. “Yo.”

“Oh, hello! Cool hat, Gangle,” Kinger complimented. He turned to Zooble. “The shirt’s kind of tacky.”

“Yeah, well, it's not for you.”

Gangle pulled up a chair, sitting backwards and facing the two. She straightened her hat. “Well, we’re just here to ask a few friendly questions if that’s alright.”

Kinger tilted his head. “More? Jax just came by and did the same thing. And- I hope this doesn't come off as rude- But me and Joyce are currently in the middle of something. We really want to go out and catch some primo specimens.”

Zooble decided to sit on the floor next to Gangle, not bothering with getting a chair. “Y'know, I don't want to bum you out, but I don't think there’s any bugs to catch. Their AI’s probably all gunked up.”

“Ah, Joyce? If you wouldn’t mind stepping away, we’re gonna need some privacy for this. Oh, actually, here.” Gangle leaned over and gestured for Zooble to hand over the notebook. She tore out the last page and gave it to the robot, alongside the pencil she brought with her. She had forgotten that Zooble already had a pencil, so she accidentally brought a second one. If anyone asked, she would say she planned to give it to Joyce all along. “Um… your word is ‘mountains.’”

“I’m on it!” They headed off to start their drawing, stopping every few feet due to their robot claws constantly dropping the pencil. Gangle was unsure where they were going.

“So, sir, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Gangle said, snapping her head back to Kinger. “I’d like to know more about your death and revival, if you please. Specifically, what would you say you were thinking at those times?”

“Oh. Well, everything past a few days ago is quite fuzzy, but let's see… Ah, yes, I remember. Caine had canceled the daily adventure due to low numbers, so I was left with my own thoughts. I don’t know how, but I ended up in Queenie’s room. She’s my— well, she was my wife, but, well…” He glanced at a nearby neon eye. It stared back. “You probably already know what happened. Her room is attached to mine, separated by a curtain. It got fuzzy, and…” Kinger hummed to himself. “Right after that, I remember seeing a cool bug that I wanted to get my hands on.”

Zooble raised their eyebrows at the apparent lack of difficulty with talking about his wife. They did remember how proud he seemed when he told them about Queenie. Being able to accept your wife’s death is something to be proud of, they guessed.

“Wow. Not going to lie, I expected the answers for before and after to both be ‘bugs.’ Sorry, I guess that de-confirms your theory,” Zooble whispered to Gangle. She wasn't listening, being too focused on Kinger. He had brought his hand to the back of his head, and she could hear the nervous tapping of fingers on wood.

Surprising both of them, Gangle stood straight up, propping herself on the chair as she leaned towards him. They both leaned their heads back as she started yelling. “We’re not here to play GAMES, Kinger! Start talking or you’ll be moving a tile in any direction behind bars, got it?”

“G-Gangle! W-what has gotten-” Zooble started, before being interrupted by Kinger.

He threw his hands up in defeat. “Oh, it’s true, I lied! It wasn't a bug at all, it was an ember from a campfire!” He let his head hang down in shame. “I-I thought it was a firefly… That was our favorite bug to go looking for. I was still thinking about Queenie.”

“Wh-What?!” Zooble turned to him, incredulous. “Why would you lie about that?!”

Kinger sniffled. “’s embarrassing. I mistook a common spark as one of God's most beautiful creatures! Me! The bug guy!” He kept his head low, sniffling a couple more times, before unceremoniously lifting it back up looking perfectly content. “So! Any more questions?”

“Yes, just a few,” Gangle said, not missing a beat. Zooble wanted to speak up, but they were just along for the ride at this point. “Tell me more about this ‘Queenie’ lass. Hobbies, daily routine, physical description, anything. It would help immensely.” Zooble was distracted by whatever suave L.A. Noir accent Gangle had put on, but she elbowed her, telling them to get the notebook out. Zooble obliged.

“Well, beautiful for one. Elegant is another. She’s smart, funny, the love of my life. Well, she was.” Kinger hunched over, making Zooble cringe. It’ll be good for him in the long run, they told themselves. Gangle's expression remained unchanged. “Oh, and she really liked coding. That’s why she liked fireflies.”

“Didn’t you say she was into math?” Zooble piped up. Gangle continued to stair forward, ribbons pressed together in front of her face.

“Why yes, I did! She liked both. There's a considerable amount of overlap between the two, in terms of why she enjoys them.”

“Why didn't you mention that?”

“Was I supposed to? I thought math covered all the bases. Is her being a programmer important?”

“I mean- yeah! Of course it is!”

“Why?” Kinger asked inquisitively.

“Well, we live in a video game, so…” Zooble trailed off.

“How would her being a programmer help?”

“You know, like… Oh, whatever! I could think of something with enough time! I’m good at interrogating too… “ Zooble grumbled, returning to writing in the notebook, frustrated. “And in what way is her liking fireflies connected to coding?”

“Oh, she said she liked them because they can turn off an on, and it reminded her of binary.”

“...Really? Isn’t that a bit on the nose?”

“We never were very subtle…” Kinger remarked, sighing wistfully and staring off into the distance. Zooble is briefly reminded of the Titanic movie.

Gangle took a deep breath, finally continuing with an even more extreme inflection. “I hate to ask you this, but… What can you tell me about your wife’s abstraction? Where she was, what she was going through? Anything would help.”

“She was in our room, and I just found her like that after the adventure. She said she had to work on something, and I didn't suspect anything of being off. She often skips out on adventures to work on some new project to show off once I get back. We were the only two cast members left, so it was just me on the adventure that day. All the NPCs still talked like I was in a group- that’s besides the point, here-” Kinger reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to unlock Queenie’s door. “I never really looked around her side of the room afterward, so feel free to look around. I can’t guarantee you’ll find anything, though.” 

“Ah, keep it. I’ve got my own,” Gangle said, patting where she kept Jax’s keyring. “That should do it, right?” She turned to Zooble. 

“Oh, uh, pretty much,” Zooble said, rubbing the back of their head. “But I do have just one more question. We’ve been… ‘researching,’ and I’ve been wondering: was anyone in your group 2d? Like, completely flat? There’s an abstraction out there that could give me a paper cut straight through my body.”

“Oh, my apologies, but I’ve only unrepressed my wife at the moment. I don’t remember anything about my fellow cast members.”

“Hm. Well, maybe the 2d guy wasn’t around when you were? I would think someone like that would be memorable.”

“You would be surprised how much I can forget!” Kinger said, much too jovially. “But I’m sure I’ll remember eventually. Between my long periods of aloofness, I’ll usually remember something and say something profound and helpful to someone. And then they go ‘Wow, Kinger! I didn’t know you had that kind of advice in you!’ and then I go ‘What advice?’ and it’s funny, but also kind of sad.”

“...Right. Well, we’ll be going now. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Thank you,” Kinger gave a slight bow and stood up, scanning the immediate surroundings. “If you need me, I’ll be… figuring out where Joyce went.”

As Kinger started to search for wherever they wandered to, Zooble closed the journal and tucked it under their arm. “We’re checking out her room now, right?”

“The crime scene, but yes. We’re so close to a breakthrough, I can feel it!”

“Yeah, I hope this is worth it. I don't know about you, but grilling a grieving old man on the brink of insanity about his dead wife didn't feel great!”

I chuckled under my breath. My partner could always find a way to crack wise in dark times like these. As humorous as they may be, I can't laugh. To laugh is to show weakness, and to show weakness will get you left in the dust. The detective world is cut-throat, and-

“What?” Zooble chimed in.

“Hm?” Gangle hummed.

“You’re talking under your breath. I can’t hear you.” Zooble squinted. “Are you monologuing?”

“...Yes.”

“...Alright.”

“As we approached the door, a cold chill shot up my spine. A bright crimson marked a bold ‘X’ across the victim’s face. Despite the years I've worked in this industry, the feeling when entering a crime scene is something I’ve never shook. Luckily, I have an old friend, one that always calms me down in moments of chaos. First name ‘Toby,’ last name ‘Bacco.’ My wife tells me to stop gabbing with him, but the embrace of an old pal is exactly what I need right now.” Gangle pulled out one of Caine’s old fashioned pipes, quickly blowing into it a couple times. Bubbles came out the other end. 

“Where did you get that?”

“‘ax’s closet,” Gangle said, keeping the suave voice with her mouth still occupied with the pipe.

“I said to only grab one thing!”

“I ‘asn’t… listenin’.”

“...Okay.”

Gangle pulled out the key ring, flipping through and landing on the fancy mahogany key. Queenie was already gone by the time Ragatha arrived, so however Jax knew to get this key, Gangle had no idea. Perhaps that would be her next case, she thought.

She pushed the door open. Just like Kinger said, there was a curtain down the middle of the room, dividing Kinger’s lighter beige from Queenie’s dark oak side of the room. While his side was fine, if just a bit unkept, her’s was in complete disarray. The checkerboard floor was covered in knocked-over objects, the walls scrawled with messages written in black ink. Most of them read ‘Queenie’ or ‘Queen,’ so it was safe to assume that they were Kinger’s. 

Zooble was hesitant to enter, but Gangle wasted no time waltzing in and crouching over the strewn objects. She plucked the pipe out her mouth and shoved it back into her invisible inventory. Zooble sheepishly followed her in.

True to Kinger’s word, the books that were discarded on the floor were mainly about coding. There was a bookshelf embedded in the wall half-full with the same type of books. One was titled ‘Coding your own website: how to do it and stuff,’ another ‘Data Organization, Optimization, and Management.’ Another was labeled ‘Dataset corruption for dummies.’ Pulling the website one out from its spot, Zooble found all the pages empty. Caine put them there for decoration.

On the nightstand was a fold-up chess board. If Gangle didn't know any better, she would be unsure on whether they liked chess, or if this was just more set-building by Caine. Luckily, she had asked Kinger a long while ago, and he absolutely adores chess. That doesn't mean he’s good at it, though.

Gangle rifled through the nightstand, pulling open all the drawers for anything that resembled a clue. All she found were blank pads of paper and the occasional piece of cartoony trash. She looked upwards. On the wall behind the table was a ‘degree,’ ornately framed. On closer inspection, the picture frame had a circus theme, complete with various Caines and Bubbles carved into it. The actual degree read:

RINGMASTER CAINE AND THE DEPARTMENTS OF CRAZY-COLLEGE™ HEREBY RECOGNIZE ONE 

Queenie G. M. Chessington 

FOR HER EXCELLENCE IN THE FIELD OF 

Statistical Whatchamacallit

Gangle turned the degree around in the light. It had a few cracks and scratches, but nothing too serious. There weren't any secret buttons behind it, either. 

Leaving no stone unturned, she peered under the folded up chessboard. Gangle beckoned Zooble over, saying “Hey, Zoobs. Come take a look at this.”

While bewildered by the nickname, Zooble waddled over. It was a full piece of notepad paper, but only the corner had writing on it, like it was intended to have a much longer message. It read:

Kinger,

I’m sorr y 

in fancy handwriting. The further it went the more hasty the lettering was. The ‘Y’ trailed off, its tail winding down the page. 

“Woah. This is, like, mega important, right? This is Queenie’s death rattle or some shit, of course it is,” Zooble said. “It was just sitting under there? Kinger would probably want to see this, right? Or would that break his brain?” 

“Well I don’t know much about the matters of the brain,” Gangle said, attempting to stealthily pull the pipe, despite clearly telegraphing it with the increasing accent. “But I do know one thing, and that’s cold hard facts. And I find it hard to believe that Kinger couldn't have seen this note. Even if, for whatever reason, Queenie tucked this note firmly between the chessboard and table right before abstract-tizing, there’s simply no reality where all those books were tossed to the floor, but this narrow nightstand and everything on top of it was kept nice and neat.” She took a decisive puff. “Kinger might not ‘member it, but he’s seen this note, and took deliberate steps to conceal it. From himself.”

“Alright, cool? I guess? That wasn't really what I asked, to be-”

“People don't ask for the truth. They hope for it. Hoping their poor little hearts out that, when they walk into my office, I’ll be able to uncover what they want. But I only uncover what they ask me to. Whatever dirt falls into their lap is none of my concern. Truth is a cold hard mistress of the night, waiting for your call. And I just refilled my minutes.” Gangle tore off the corner of the note with writing on it, handing it off to Zooble. “Here, slick. Stick this in your notebook. I'll getcha some tape later.”

“Alllllright?” They said, sliding the piece of paper in between the pages. “I hope Kinger didn't want it to remember her or something.”

“The best thing for him to remember her by, is her.”

“Mhm, I… suppose that’s fair? Let’s just try to not be… Overly optimistic, I guess.” 

Jax swung open the door, dodging to the side with a grin, only to be met with a disappointing nothing. The loaded boxing glove sat past the door frame, stagnant. Disappointingly clicking his tongue, Jax crossed another thing off his list. Only after tearing the glove off its mechanism and stuffing it down his kangaroo pouch of a pocket, of course— he’d find a way to rebuild his pride and joy. He originally wanted to look for quote-un-quote ‘clues’ about Joyce, but it turned into snagging anything he found interesting (or anything with prank potential).

Most everything was broken, that or the door it was behind seemingly blocked. He tried to get into the art supplies room, but no dice. He hoped the swimming pool would be filled with swimmable water, but again, no dice. He wanted to at least check on all the board games in the rec room, but – no dice. The games were missing all their cards.

Once he turned the bend, Jax found himself back at the giant hole that was once the library, signifying that he made a full loop around the side rooms. He leaned his head back and groaned. Suddenly, his foot stopped short as it caught on something. His face hit the circus floor with a thud.

Jax got to his feet, angrily looking back for what had caused that. He was already frustrated that his aimless wandering didn't find any clues, and this was his breaking point. It was immediately obvious what tripped him; a taut line of tied bed sheets spanned across where he was walking. It was the old coot and his robo-boy’s stupid well-thingy!

Fuming, Jax stormed over to the horse statue that the rope was anchored to. He had no clue where they got this thing, but he didn't care. Knowing that any pain here would be significantly muted, he lifted his foot as far back as it could go, and kicked the base of the statue. He wasn't hoping to accomplish anything other than stress relief, but due to the fact that the knot around the back was tied by someone with grippers for hands, it immediately came undone with this small action. 

Jax’s eyes widened as the cord zipped by him, and before he could even think about diving for it, it had already made it to the pseudo pulleys. The large knot tying the lasso bit to the rest of it was the only thing preventing the bathtub from fully coming loose. Even still, Jax heard the distant splash of the tub being submerged in the gross liquid at the bottom.

He scanned the immediate area. No one was around to see what happened, and none of the noises were loud enough for anybody to be on their way. Letting out a sigh of relief, Jax stepped onto the growth surrounding the pit. He peered into it, but the rope quickly vanished into oppressive darkness. 

He hummed to himself in thought, looking towards the clogged-up pulley system. Normally, he wouldn't fix his messes up like this, but he needed to quote-unquote ‘make sure to hide his tracks for this investigation.’ Plus, he didn't want to give Krazy Kinger and Joystick Joyce the satisfaction of thinking that someone tried to use this useless contraption. He jumped up, trying to grab onto the two loose ends. Missed the first time, got closer the second time, and grabbed onto them with the third jump. It was simultaneously heavier and lighter than he expected. He thought it would either be the weight of a normal bathtub, or completely weightless, but it wasn't either. Still, he struggled with pulling it all the way to the statue.

Groaning, he pulled the two rope-ends around the statue, tying it tight and finally letting his muscles rest. Not that he had muscles anymore. He sat and leaned against the anchor, intending to take a breather, but his eye couldn't help but get caught on the now un-submerged bathtub. He thought to himself for a moment before shrugging and jumping up.

The tub was now filled with the blackened goop he remembered seeing at the bottom of the cellar, the very few times it had opened. He spent quite a long time down there himself, Jax supposed. He didn't know how long exactly. Probably just a couple years, based on the state of the place. He wouldn't be surprised if it took a month for this place to fall apart after he left. Plus, if you don’t count ol’ rust bucket, he was the last person to remain in the circus. He thinks. There weren't any new cast rooms, but the last few weeks before he abstracted were kind of a blur. Still, he won, and that's all that matters.

Realizing how sidetracked he got, Jax snapped back to attention. He reached over to the tub. His hand felt weirder the closer he got, somewhat static-y. Due to the fact that his hand was already above it, he couldn't resist dunking his hand into it. It immediately stung, but not as horribly as he thought.

Jax reached his other hand into the fluid, cupping some of it up. He wasn't sure what he was doing at this point. Maybe he could use it as an interrogation tactic? Well, it was better than doing nothing. 

He turned around, goop still in his hands. As he turned, the liquid sloshed around like he expected, but… It seemed a bit more intense than normal. It pulsed like something had just been dropped into it, and it isn't showing any signs of slowing. Furrowing his nonexistent brow, he lightly swayed his hands back and forth, poking for a reaction, like he often does.

It continually got more intense and unstable. The waves started to form in giant spikes, rising much higher than Jax was comfortable with. Polygons started to overlap and turn inside-out. It looked less like a liquid, and more-so a puddle of abstract god trash. 

Jax felt a sudden stabbing pain in the palms of his hands, quickly hurling it to the ground. Upon hitting the tiled floor, the mess of polygons expanded further, before rapidly shrinking into nothing. He stood with his hands at his sides, looking at the ground, dumbfounded. Where the stuff had exploded, there was now a giant hole in the geometry. Quickly checking his gloves for any damage, Jax dropped into a crouch. The hole was about the size of his head, and while he expected it to be a hole in the geometry, it actually revealed the dirt that the tent was on top of.  

Jax stood back up. For the first the time in what felt like forever, his cheshire grin returned to his face. Retrieving the boxing glove from his pocket, he leaned over to the bathtub, scooping up a large amount of the abstraction gunk. Keeping a hand over the open end, he carefully walked the glove away from the well, off the infected bits, and away from the recreation rooms. He felt the glove get heavier as it started to vibrate; keeping his hands steady, he arrived at the door plastered with Caine’s ugly mug. Other than all the long-dead cast members (a group he was a part of now, he supposed), this was the only door he couldn't get into. Whatever was behind it, had to be a step into figuring out why he distrusted Joyce so intensely.

Stretching out his arms as far as he could, Jax shook the glove like he was making a smoothie. He felt something prick his hand, so he tossed the thing at the door with a limp wrist, diving away and clutching his ears. It didn't make any noise- obviously, the last one didn't either. 

After the ominous air buzzing has died down, Jax peered over his shoulder; where the door once stood was a giant hole, the edges tinted black. He, once again, looked to see if anyone was around before getting up. He cautiously approached the now accessible room, stepping over the door's glitchy remains. 

Despite Caine’s bombastic and in-your-face style of decorating, the room was a perfect cube with nothing but a large console in the middle. The only thing that had his trademark garish-ness was the fact that the walls, floor, and ceiling were bright orange tiling. Each tile had writing dictating its dimensions, so he figured they weren't put there for aesthetic reasons. 

He couldn't begin to explain his giddiness upon seeing the console. It had two giant screens side by side, a giant keyboard under the right and two unlit buttons under the left. It was unnaturally gray and dull for the circus; the screens were black and empty, but a green flashing power on the side instilled confidence in him. There was a slot next to the power button, but that barely entered his mind. Arching his back and cracking his knuckles, Jax pressed the button. There was probably a 50/50 chance that it was a button to shut down the circus, but he already pressed it. 

The screens lit up. Lines of green and red text overlaid the black background. Nervously looking over his shoulder at the wide open door, Jax continued. The right screen looked to be a command screen, complete with the command line. A flashing cursor showed that this is what the keyboard was connected to. All the debug messages were bright red error messages spouting some tech mumbo-jumbo he didn't want to try and understand. He’d definitely try and play with that later; becoming a god does sound like a good time. For now, his eyes were drawn to the left monitor.

There was a green border going around the screen. At the top left, outside the border, was a jumble of random numbers. The top right says ‘Last entry written 34 day(s) ago.’ Inside the border was a thick chunk of text, which read:

Jax couldn't believe what he was reading. Was this a… Diary? By Caine? It sounded like Caine, and he couldn't think of anyone else who would type in all caps. He thought that diaries were a made-up plot device, but now he’s found two in the past few days. He thinks. It’s hard to keep track of time anymore.

It continued:

Jax was speechless. Not from anything in the text, he already knew all that. The fact that he can finally figure out what was going through that psycho’s mind from Ragatha’s first day to… Whenever Caine decided to dip. The previously blank buttons now had arrows on them. The down arrow was grayed out, but the top one was the same shade of green as everything else. Pressing it, it changed to the next entry. A new string of random numbers at the top, and it now reads ‘Last entry written 1 day(s) ago.’ 

It was a boring adventure recap, but strangely enough, it wasn't the adventure that followed Ragatha’s first day, despite it saying that the last entry was a day ago. Jax pressed the up arrow, and again, it said the last entry was only a day ago, but it referenced adventures that were not mentioned. There were definite gaps where some entries should have been. Personally, Jax was grateful for this, as even the ones left were booooring. He hammered the arrow, only stopping when an entry caught his eye.

Jax snickered to himself. “Classic.”

Jax couldn't help but cringe at that line. Not that he cared about Gangle, but who writes like that? To undercut this important scene by writing like a 13-year-old trying to deliver a one-liner like a sitcom star. He could only hope that whoever would write a line like that will then have thought about that one cringe line for, like, a couple months, before addressing it and berating themselves in a future piece of writing by awkwardly shoving it in. Only then!

Jax rolled his eyes.

Jax was frustratedly tapping his fingers against the blank part of the console. Not only did this not help in any way, it barely mentioned him at all! At least he can play god now. If he can figure out any of the commands.

As he turned to the second screen, a flash of green caught the corner of his eye. The top arrow was still green, meaning there’s still at least one more.

Jax groaned at the thought of more reading but relented to his curiosity. Caine probably just went back and decided he wanted to write another soliloquy before… whatever. Pressing the button, the screen changed to the next entry. The arrow button went gray. It now read that the last entry was written 49,710 days ago. The entry only had 2 lines of text.

His eyes widened while he read. His mouth hung open (minus the teeth) as he processed what he was reading. It quickly turned into a wide smile. This was exactly what he was looking for. He had to show- no, reveal this to the others. He knew that he wouldn't be able to persuade the others to come in here; he didn't want them to get anywhere near the console either. His mind flashed back to the slot next to the power button. That had to be for printing, right?

He looked at the string of numbers at the top of the entry. Assuming it to be an ID, he swung over to the keyboard, painstakingly copying it over.

Jax groaned quietly, having to type the numbers in again. He knew what he did wrong. He pretended to be apart of a programming group in college, so he picked up a few things. He did that because, like all programmers, they seemed to have a never ending supply of pot.

Jax cursed under his breath. It was double quotes, right?

“Oh. Right,” Jax said, exasperatedly putting his head in his hands. Whatever, programming is about educated guesses and trial and error anyway. Even if he had to get virtual carpal tunnel from typing the same stupid string of numbers. 

Wracking his brain, he took his best guess.

Finally, he heard something buzzing from the printer slot. He had no clue why Caine would need this function. Maybe he had a bunch of wacky machines that he shoved paper in to process or whatever. He pulled out the piece of paper that had just been printed. It was a classic dot matrix type of printer paper, with the holes on the sides.

The paper was mostly empty, the only printed text being at the top. It read 050119200518050707070520.

Creases started to form as Jax gripped the paper tighter. Throwing it to the ground, Jax took another swing at the console.

Finally, it actually printed a piece of paper with the entry written on it. Jax grabbed it and yanked it out.

“Easy as that.”

“In all the years of running my agency, I’ve never taken on a case quite like this. Homicide, fratricide, adultery… I’ve seen every dreg of humankind that this city can offer.” Gangle put the pipe to her mouth. She pretended to take a long drag out of it despite it not being that kind of smoking implement. “But investigating a way to reverse death? Heh, as long as I get my paycheck by the end of the-”

“Why-” Zooble interjected. Gangle lifted her head, letting out an out-of-character inquisitive hum. They were both walking down the cast hallway, away from Queenie’s room and towards the main tent. They weren't sure what to do next, so they figured they might need to perform some delicate questioning with Kinger. “Why is this the character you’re landing on? The whole grizzled detective thing. Cause that’s clearly a Sherlock hat. Same with the pipe,” Zooble said, gesturing at her accessories. 

“Huh. Well, that’s just what you have to do in order to make it in this bitch of a city,” Gangle said, lowering her head in the middle of the sentence. Zooble snorted an amused half-laugh, playfully rolling their eyes. Gangle snapped right back to her cheery self, energetic as ever.. “Aw, man, I wish this place still had background music! I can just imagine the smoothest of smooth jazz playing as we slink around from scene to scene.”

“I don’t think the circus would recognize the sort of theme you’re- we’re going for. It’d probably just play the same background music we’ve been hearing for the past…” Zooble thought to themselves. “...Year and a half? I think we’re better off this way. More atmospheric.” 

“I hope there's a jukebox or cassette player somewhere that lets you listen to the OST for this place. I love that little intro motif they put everywhere. Y'know, the one that goes ‘duh, dah nah nah nah nah, nuh nuh nuh nuh-e-uh, bah da-’”

“-Yeah, uh-huh, I think I got it!” Zooble said, making Gangle stop and snicker. Zooble continued. “God, man, if I told my past self that the motif for my forever hell would be a mix between the Cleveland Show intro and the Super Mario World credits theme, I probably would've been like ‘what’s The Cleveland Show, I’m 6 years old and it’s 2008. Also what are you doing in my house, you horrific collection of colors and shapes. Oh god, is this because I knocked over that kid's tower in pre-school, please spare me, dear god.’”

“Oh! Speaking of colors-”

“That’s… a stretch.”

“-I need to color in my research drawings! I think I left my colored pencils in your room, I’ll be right back!” Gangle immediately zipped off before Zooble could respond, heading back towards the far end of the hallway. She yelled back, “You can go ahead and chill with Kinger while I’m busy!! I’ll be quick, promise!” Zooble was going to yell something back, but decided against it. She knows what she’s doing.

Zooble continued their way to the main tent, now sans Gangle. That gave them time to think; Zooble really, really liked Gangle for it, but she does talk quite a bit. They thought about what they were doing. Going on this whole journey to bring the wife of a guy they barely know back from the dead. The feeling of wanting to know more, to actually do stuff. It wasn't a feeling they experienced often. This was obviously different from Caine’s adventures, but it made them think about their often absences. 

They always felt bad about having the power to fix Gangle’s mask yet not going. She’d always come back with tears in her eyes. Though if Zooble said anything, she’d always assure them that ‘if you don't want to go, then you shouldn't have to,’ and ‘I would just feel like a burden the entire time if you did come, which defeats the entire purpose!’ 

Now their non-existent blood is flowing with motivation because they’re going and doing stuff, and they're thinking: maybe the reason they had no energy to go on adventures was due to the fact that they weren't going on adventures.

Whatever. It’s not like it’s going to be a problem now. Besides, they're pretty sure that Caine set up an entire weird therapy set-up to get to the bottom of this very problem. They might’ve reached the exact opposite conclusion; they don't remember a bit of the session due to meta and not plot-important reasons.

Kinger and Joyce were sitting near each other, doing different varieties of staring off into space. Zooble stepped over an abstract vein and plopped themselves down on a pillow. Joyce greeted them with a wave, and Zooble nodded in reply. Groaning, they leaned back onto some more pillows. There were… a lot of pillows. They knew they just acknowledged the fact that they were full of energy, but god, they really needed to lie down for a second.

The chess piece seemingly only just noticed them, raising a hand in greeting. “Why hello Zooble! Did you two find anything interesting? Also, where’s Gangle, if I may be so forward to ask.”

Zooble’s head sunk further into a pillow. “She’s getting some shit or whatever. We found… things. I think,” they replied, seemingly already half asleep. “I’m gonna… yeah. You two should do… whatever the fuck. Cool.” Their speech was slightly muffled as they planted their face into the pillow. 

Kinger debated trying to get them to stay awake, but his choice was made for him as several loud bangs rang across the tent. Zooble sat up like a bolt of lightning. It sounded remarkably close.

“ATTENTION FUCK-NUTS, PLEASE GATHER IN THE- oh.” Jax appeared, holding a gong in one hand and a hammer in the other. He dropped them both and returned his hand to his hip. “Well jeez, if I knew everyone was hosting a sleepover, I wouldn't have bothered with all that.”

“Ugh, god damnit,” Zooble bemoaned, antennae twitching. Their little patience had quickly drained away. “What is it now? We were about to do something important.”

“Yeah, looked real important. Had a business meeting between your face and a musty old pillow,” Jax snarked while clambering onto a toy block. He stood with his head high above everyone, gesturing out. “I HAVE GATHERED YOU ALL HERE FOR A VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT. YOU- I’m going to stop yelling now. You may not like me, but I guarantee, there's going to be someone you like a LOT less after this. Because what I am about to say is the truth! For once.” 

“For, as I have learned… Uh. What’s your name again?”

He waved his hand towards Joyce, almost disappointed that a spotlight didn't turn on to illuminate them. “Joyce!” They replied enthusiastically. “Am I being included-”

“JOYCE! I have learned that Joyce, our resident loveable scamp… Is a traitor.”

The group fell silent for a moment. Zooble sighed, facepalming. “Alright man, just get down from-”

“NO!” Jax yelled, taking Zooble aback. He jumped down from his makeshift stage, aggressively getting up in everyone’s grill. He pulled out his printed entry from his front pocket. “‘The boy who cried wolf’ can SUCK IT, you are going to LISTEN to me! Go ahead, huddle up, and read this. It’s straight from Caine’s private reserve!”

He presented the paper for someone to grab. Joyce got their claws on it first, which Jax was not a fan of. 

Their eyes scanned it top to bottom first. Their face dropped instantly, though for once, not literally. Zooble and Kinger were quick to peer over their shoulder and read it themselves.

>snpcprofilecreate “joyce”

>npc_spawn joyce.snpc 

Joyce was the first to speak up. “What- what does-?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what it means, robot ,” Jax replied, getting right up close and personal. He pressed a finger against their chest, jabbing with such force they actually staggered back a step. “It means you’re an NPC. A bot, an AI, an automaton. You’re fake. ”

The expression on Joyce’s face made it clear that they knew what an NPC was, while making it equally clear that they had no knowledge of this. Their smile faltered. It’s odd to see on a robot— the fluorescent smile flickering as it fades away, while Jax’s polystyrene grin pushes his eyes into crescents. Whenever Joyce’s head tried to lean away from him, he just pressed in further.

“Something made by the circus, following its programming like a fucking slave. Trapped here, just like us! Heck, even if we find a way out, you’ll still be stuck down here, festering away. You can’t even abstract!”

He, somehow, grins even wider.

“Finally, the circus gets a taste of its own hell.”  

Zooble’s eyes darted between the two. The fuck are they even supposed to do in this situation?  They hadn’t known Joyce for long, but that couldn't be true , could it? They never saw whatever ‘upgraded NPCs’ Caine was so excited about, but… it’s Jax! They can’t believe a word out of his mouth! And if it is true… It's still Jax. Not exactly the best judge of character.

A rubbery claw suddenly slammed into Jax’s chest and shoved him backward, his smug grin contorting into a scowl without even a break for surprise. Zooble stepped in between him and a shell shocked Joyce, just in time to meet Jax’s freshest round of angered yells. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! You’re seriously defending them?! The AI you’ve known for 2 days? They're going to suck your brains out or something!”

“I don’t-- You can’t- You can’t just show us some printed bullshit and expect us to believe it! Where did you even get this!?”

“From Caine’s private reserve, like I said!” Jax lifted his hands, stepping back with a wry chuckle. “You know it’s true, even your flimsy excuse for a head isn’t that hollow!! They can’t remember a single thing about their past life, except their name; you know, the one thing we explicitly can never remember? They somehow never managed to abstract after 5 years of being alone, and- oh yeah- they’re a FUCKING ROBOT! CAINE WAS NEVER KNOWN FOR BEING SUBTLE! So go ahead!“ He spat, ears twitching. “Trust the AI-generated rando you’ve known less than a week!”

Zooble could melt holes in calcium with the glare they were giving Jax, rubber fists clenched. They looked back at Joyce. The supposed AI was locked in place, looking at nothing in particular, eyes pinpricks. Zooble could see their head wobbling back and forth as they breathed, as if they were trying not to fall to their knees and cry. Kinger was beside them, clearly shocked but sympathetic as ever, reaching out a hand to their shoulder. 

Jax scoffs. “Hey, maybe that’s why it fucked up their hands!” 

Zooble returned their gaze to Jax, decided once and for all that he’s an irredeemable cunt, and stepped forward. 

“Listen here dipshit, I’ve known you for over a year, and yet I trust Joyce MOUNTAINS more than you!” Zooble’s voice wavered with something more than anger, a gravely edge that made even Kinger look up in alarm.“You know what? I can look at the facts! Yes, they're AI, sure! I don’t care! They clearly aren't some evil spy, and you KNOW that!”

“Hey, you don’t know that! I could be thinking that- in fact, I am! They're here to… I dunno, kill us?”

“Bitch, I know you! You fuckin’ wish you had trust issues, maybe then I could understand why you do any of this shit!” Zooble snarled, voice dripping with anger. “You don’t think that, you’ve never thought that! You knew exactly what you were doing the entire time, you jackass!”

“Okay, yeah, fine! You got me! I know Joyce is fine, but I revealed it anyway, knowing that they’d be devastated and hoping you’d all turn on them! I admit it. That was my eeeeeevil plan, ” Jax sneered, waggling his fingers sarcastically. “Now, what are you going to do about it?” Jax’s face twisted back into a grin, but not a confident one. One that oozed desperation. “Going to strangle me? Punch me? Stab me? Chop off my limbs? They’ll just grow back! I’ll still be here tomorrow!”

“Well, we can just see about that, asshole! I'm gonna-”

“Oh-ho, be careful what you say there, polka-ass. Your girl-twirl over there is just as fragile as last time, and once you feel the intoxicating rush of murder once, you can’t ever go back,” Jax remarked, smugly pretending to admire his nails, his pupils just black flies drowning in pools of sickly yellow paint.

“Wha- WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“Oh, sorry, was that a bit too far? Well too bad, because that's what you’re getting! I can do whatever the hell I want, and you can’t do a single fucking thing about it!” 

Jax brought his head down and shoulders up, leaning towards Zooble. His grin had gotten larger and more unstable , curving like a spiteful crescent moon.

“Maybe somethings wrong with you, huh?! You’re making the mistake of caring, like this shit even matters! Caine or no Caine, this place never changes, that’s the entire fucking point!”! Jax laughed, loud and shrill like a strangled bird. He sounded dead. “What was he even gonna do back then, ban me from adventures!? 

“None of it mattered, and it still doesn't! It’s all a fucking game, and if some people happen to be a part of it, then it’s their fault for impeading the way I want to play! Do you get mad at every person on their fifth Fallout playthrough?” 

He straightened up again, bringing his hands up in an open invitation for them to strike. Zooble had retracted their previous step forward , Jax towering over them like a cast shadow. Kinger was staring as well, while Joyce was still existentially frozen. Jax continued ranting, completely forgetting what he was originally talking about. 

“I'M HAVING FUN! I’M HAVING SO MUCH FUCKING FUN, ZOOBLE, TRY AND STOP ME, I WELCOME IT! STRETCH ME, KICK ME, THROW ME IN A TRASH COMPACTOR! IF ANY OF THAT ACTUALLY HURTS, I’D WELCOME IT! BUT IT WON’T! AND I’LL STILL BE HERE! I'LL ALWAYS FUCKING BE HERE, CONSEQUENCE-LESS! YOU’RE JUST TOYS TO BE PLAYED WITH, AND NOTHING, NOTHING WILL-”

THWACK!

A metal ringing sound echoed inside of Jax’s head, and across the tent. His face dropped, and his eye slightly twitched. He collapsed face first onto the ground, unconscious. 

Gangle stood behind him, revealed as he fell, clearly struggling to hold one of Zooble’s metal limbs above her head. She sweated nervously as everyone’s eyes were now on her. 

“I- uh! She squeaked, frozen in place, “That- everyone wanted that, right? Did I do a good?”

“Holy shit! Is- Is he dead?” Zooble said, rushing over to Gangle and looking down at Jax, eyes wide. “Jesus. Also, great job and great move on your part Gangle, I’m very proud of you! But also just— Jesus! Didn’t even spawn any tweety-birds or shit…”

“STAND BACK!” Kinger yelled, popping up behind Zooble. They backed up, startled. He crouched down next to Jax, putting two fingers on the unconscious rabbitoid’s neck. Kinger looked up and said, in a half whisper, “He doesn’t have a pulse…”

“...Yeah. We all don’t.” Zooble looked back. Joyce was still motionless, and Jax was too. “I accidently cut his head off with my claw once and he was fine, so I think he’s good? Shit, what do we do when he wakes up! Do we toss him into the hole?”

Gangle dropped the limb with a resounding clank, putting her ribbons to her head in panic. “Ah- Geez- I don’t- WAIT. I have an idea.”