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“if they don’t say nothin’, just kill them right then and there!” Enot talked into their communicator in the basement of their safehouse, pacing around as they undressed from their work gear. “i’m sure there will be more showing up soon, these new scavs are appearing out of the ground like two horny lantern mice poppin’ out kids!”
“yes, yes, i understand that there must be someone behind this, but u of all ppl should be able to handle it urself, Wingcat!” Unintelligible words continue from the other side of the communicator. “listen, im off the job now, so do what u think best until tomorrow. call me only if they stage a proper assault on one of our safehouses.” A moment of silence as Enot put the phone down to slide the arm bracelets off their hands. “yes, a nice night for you too.” The indigo slugcat shuts the communicator off. Today was quite uneventful, all things considered. No new hauls, no sprees for new gadgets or substances, just some boring meetings and dealing with some minor scuffle with a new up-and-coming group of scavengers. There were some benefits to coming home early, though, as it meant spending some quality time with their daughter, Nightcat.
Stripping down the last of their many, many hidden weapons and platings, Enot ascended the basement staircase, and entered the passcode to activate the hidden wall panels that lead to their base of operation. It was weird how the previous owners of this house were paranoid enough to build a bunker made out of voidmetal-doped alloy, but they are not complaining about having a sick underground entrance and exit from their abode for essentially free.
As the door hissed open, sliding the bookshelf in front aside, the indigo slugcat entered the house proper, the lights emanating a warm and welcoming light compared to the cold hues of their armory. Their pup was kneeling next to a desk, doodling away on scattered pieces of paper before noticing her mother’s entrance. “Momma!” The dark-furred pup yelled, before grabbing a drawing lying on the desk and running up to them.
As a thief, it was a bit ironic the most prized possession of theirs was not any of the valued treasures or insider data they stole, but instead something they themselves brought into this world. Kneeling down to greet their child, Night ran into their arms, before proudly presenting the doodle she had drawn while they were out at work. It… in honesty, it was just a sloppy mess of crayons and colored pencils, but they were proud of it nonetheless, the author of these fine works elevating the price to Enot to be equivalent to the finest and most expensive artworks in the grandest of museums. From what they could tell, it was a picture of them with a blaster shooting at what was clearly labeled as “baddies”. Very flattering portrayal.
“now, y’can’t draw me like this and have it shown on our fridge.” Nightcat’s ears drooped, looking quite sad at that reaction. “I’m sorry, momma…” Her doodles have been a lot more based on the stories of Enot’s adventures recently, probably thanks to the fact that she always preferred hearing retellings of their day’s work when it came to bedtime. Although she thought they were like a superhero or something, all of the gadgets Enot had amassed and commissioned over the years for their various missions certainly helping the young pup to form that image, it couldn’t hurt to be too careful about having someone know this residence contains the famed Night’s Shadow. However, Enot had been working on something special just for her and her special drawings, something they had been slowly installing into their bunker over the past few weeks.
“… which is why, i am gonna post it on the extra secret fridge.” Enot’s dramatic tone intent on building up mystique turned Night’s mood around nearly instantaneously, with their pup now squealing in delight and jumping up and down, hugging at her mother’s lower portions. “Thank you, mama, thank you!” Stroking gently down their daughter’s back, Enot lightly chuckled, continuing their dramatic speech to entertain her. “now, now, nighty. how ‘bout i take you for another tour of my secret lair? im goin’ down there to put your new drawing on there, and i think your masterpiece has earned ya this special trip.”
Taking a glance at the clock, it was only half past six right now. There were some leftover takeout that could be microwaved after this tour, and Night’s sprinting around the room in excitement told them that she could hold out a little while longer without food. Strutting towards the bookshelf, Enot took out two books and a ceramic plate from specific spots to deactivate the pressure sensors there, unlocking a small panel on the side that they could open to reveal the actual button that reveals the secret passageway. The old opening sequence when they got the house was a lot more cliche, just a book-lever mechanism, but they upgraded it after a close call, the risk of someone accidentally opening the shelf by just messing around with the books was just too great to bear.
As the bookshelf shifted open, Enot turned towards their daughter, her anticipation of this visit making her quite jumpy even as the two stood still to wait for the entrance to reveal itself. “now, dear, remember the rules down here?” The pup turned her head up towards her parent, sparkles glinting from their pupils, “Yeah! No touching anything loose, no crawling into cabinets, no opening doors, no pressing buttons, no keyboards! Did I get it right?”
“exactly as I said, darling.” the indigo slugcat hummed, a smirk appearing on their face as the two descended down to the hideout of the Night’s Shadow once more. It was their secondary armory, their main one still located in their old base where they still worked, but the amount of tech and equipment in here was no less stunning, especially when all of this was mostly just for themselves. The harsh lights and the cold metal floors were no deterrent to Night, which had been here around once every few weeks, skipping down the steps to look at the accomplishments of a thief in their prime. The weapon rack, currently all bolted down on safety mode, was where they installed the panel extension, where the drawings lie. Before the reveal, though, they should allow Night to have their share of fun down here and satiate their curiosity.
While she was running around, Enot took the time to monitor their impressive array of offensive and stealth-based weapons, some in the form of outright guns and others disguised as bracelets, pens, books, suitcases, and so on. Being among the top in the criminal hierarchy has its perks, the crafters and tinkerers willing to commission whatever weapon needed for handsome payments or other benefits Enot could pull some strings for. Their job required many of these equipments for break-ins, heists, or outright combat, and they prided themselves on keeping their gear in pristine condition. So mesmerized were they in fact, they did not even notice when the gallery ended, and they now stared face to face with an orange cloth stretched to fit inside a wooden picture frame.
Enot’s heart still skipped a beat when staring at the tattered cloth stained in dried blood, the symbol of Seven Red Suns branded on a piece of fine fabric. Torn from a uniform of those who worked under the grand iterator, an insignia like this would have been quite a common sight if it was not imbued with the context that led to its defilement. This shredded cloth… was the last thing they had of Wanderer, a synthetic slugcat that once had stolen the heart of the Night’s Shadow. Enot had once been a formidable thief and criminal on the top of their game, their charm and ability to evade capture only matched by their ruthlessness. They had once boldly claimed that there was not a single vault in Luna or Metropolis they could not break into, and even now Enot still did not think of that statement as an exaggeration.
What exactly was an iterator spawn doing, crawling through the criminal world under Metropolis? That was never something they ever stopped questioning, the powerful machines typically utilized more public methods to get what they wanted. Still, their past self could not resist stealing from a gift vulture’s mouth, interacting with the odd informant who went by the designation SRS-04 and the name Wanderer in hopes of gleaming critical weaknesses into these machines and reaping the profits whenever the opportunity arose. Their first talks and meetings mainly centered on business, just deals to use their connections and skills to retrieve items and important data for the dark slugcat’s creator, but he quickly rose to become a trusted partner in crime due to his impressive acrobatics and strength, and…
“nighty, NO!” Enot suddenly snapped back to attention, to see their daughter tip-toeing to the counter and grabbing at their bracelets. As the indigo slugcat rushed, they saw their pup standing away from the table, hands behind back, looking down in shame. “what did i say you shouldnt do down here?” Enot’s crossness prompted the young slugcat to mumble out what her mother had been instructed many, many times already. “don’t touch mommy’s loose gears, no matter how shiny they look.” Softening at her understanding, Enot’s scolding became less harsh, consoling her as they unlocked the gear closet to properly dispose of their garbs. “alrite, alrite. thats one strike. two more, and you’re out.”
Good thing that Enot did not bother loading up most of their combat-oriented equipment for this relatively mundane outing. Enot shuddered at the possibility of the neurotoxin darts being armed in the bracelets, and the tragedy that could have followed. Night was a curious kid. Too curious, at times. As the indigo slugcat opened up a metal closet and properly secured the hidden weapons and augmented clothing, they couldn’t help but wince from memories of their past. This curiosity… this will for adventure… was something inherited from Wanderer. To break past the veil and bounds and seek a new path for themselves… they hoped that Night’s inheritance of this trait would not lead her to be doomed like her vat-grown genetically modified parent.
They had never thought that they would be dating on the job. Some flings here or there? Maybe. Not a relationship, especially not one based on business. Yet… it still went on. To the point where neither of them could convince themselves, or each other, that this was just a simple alliance any longer. It was against Wanderer’s protocol, his encoded loyalty to his creator, but they both hoped that they could keep this secret affair hidden beneath the regular business. The alarms rang in Enot’s heart, constructed and refined from years upon years in their job to trust no one and have backup plans to get rid of anyone and everyone in case of betrayal, urged for them to shell themselves off from someone who could destroy their life with ease had he harbored malicious intent, but Enot simply ignored it. If ignoring their criminal instincts made them a fool, then they would had willingly became the most foolish of them all, exposing their true self hidden beneath layers and layers of facade to their lover.
One day… Wanderer left as usual to report to Seven Red Suns, but something went awry. It was not unusual for him to be leaving for days at a time, following his creator’s biddings to make deliveries to distant places, but this was different. They couldn’t help but feel worried when a week had gone by without any updates, and their subordinates or whoever happened on their hideout would frequently see the criminal mastermind pacing around worriedly, the slugcat’s latest efforts to track down their suspiciously close “ally” having yielded no results. He can’t possibly be dead, could he? No news sources or informants from their network had picked up anything about a slugcat matching his description dying. They held out hope that eventually, he would return with an explanation that was perfectly sensible, and they would laugh together about how needlessly worried Enot was.
And sure enough, Wanderer did return after three weeks. Enot was overjoyed that he was still alive, but the messenger seemed oddly distant. He did not mention specifics about the nature of his leave and mission, claiming it to be confidential information despite said confidentiality having never stopped Wanderer from telling them of his activities before. Initially, Enot attributed the strange behavior to just exhaustion or other mental scars from whatever operation he was sent on, seeking to give him some time to recoup and relax by bringing him out on a date, but even that did not seem to knock him out of this funk, the kiss they shared feeling detached and disingenuous. Not even when they lay together in Enot’s bed did Enot feel the loving warmth of Wanderer returning. Just what was happening?
It did not get any better over the following days, the loving relationship they built together becoming more and more strained and one-sided as Wanderer only reciprocated Enot’s love out of some sort of necessity. The indigo slugcat had assumed the cause of this was some personal issue or perhaps even infidelity, but the short tinge of jealousy quickly turned into concern as they realized that Wanderer seemed strangely forgetful of past events, especially their past romantic ventures with Enot. Something was very much not right, and they were suspecting Wanderer had been tampered with. They were not an expert in bioengineering in any sense, but seeing the modification required for Wanderer to exist in the first place, Enot would not be surprised if an iterator messed with his mind to serve their own unknown purposes. Regardless, they will dig to the bottom of this and return their love to his normal self.
One night, after getting sufficiently drunk enough with Wanderer and putting him to sleep, Enot took off his sleeping garb to reveal the well-groomed, almost spotless back of the dark blue slugcat, a sight that made Enot’s stomach drop. For as perfect and soft the rows of back fur were, it does not obfuscate the truth that the real Wanderer had a patch of bare skin on the back, an injury caused by a burn obtained as the two fled with an important package in tow. The indigo slugcat felt their heart pound against their chest, discretely opening a hidden compartment on the bedside cabinet to take out a small dart pistol and loading it with tranquilizer in case the worst happened, Enot’s hand trembled as they ruffled through the lower back of the fast asleep Wanderer, desperately searching for the one thing that would prove them wrong.
It was something only they and the iterators knew about, something that even he had intended to keep a secret if not for them feeling something metallic on his bare back during one of their intimate encounters. It was an implanted identification chip, inscribed on it the serial number of the messenger for use by iterators. After a few tense moments of searching around, they finally felt the cold metallic bump on Wanderer’s back. Turning on the lights to dim, Enot gently turned their partner backside up, revealing the inscription that made their blood go cold: SRS-05.
Enot, even as they absentmindedly extended the drawing panel and pinned the new drawing alongside all the others, could remember the nausea building within them as clearly as if the tag embedded on the facsimile of their mate was present right in front of them right now. It was a visceral mix of grief, anger, disgust, and fear, knowing that for the past few days they had courted and even gone to bed with an impostor, an imperfect imitation of Wanderer, one that shared his body, his voice, even some of his mannerisms, but not his soul. Reaching for the tranquilizer gun, they quickly injected it into “Wanderer’s” shoulder to ensure sedation, ready for some questions to be answered. Fueled by loss and malice towards Seven Red Suns, their more sinister side, the ruthless criminal mastermind who carved their own domain in the underworld, was ready to reawaken in order to gather intel in whichever way needed.
In the basement of their hideout, the only occupants were 005, bound and gagged to a chair having just awoken from the tranquilizer recently, and the feared Night’s Shadow, their own looks now cold and indifferent, hiding their boiling emotions beneath the ruthless and cruel criminal that they have been nothing but for so long. It was not time for formalities, and there were various torture instruments on the side of the basement that they would have never thought to use on someone bearing the face of their beloved. Unbinding the gag that restrained the copy’s speech, the facsimile of Wanderer knew his fate already, skipping past any more futile attempts of deception---at least a trait that he shared with the real Wanderer. Picking up one of the implements off the shelf, a rusty metal plier, the seasoned thief gave one last chance for SRS-05 to explain himself before the devices explained it for him.
He was resilient, but it was only a matter of time before the clone broke and divulged the truth. Wanderer, designation SRS-04, has been terminated after the discovery of his affair with Enot. The three weeks of the supposed “relocation” saw the true Wanderer lying dead six feet under, all while Seven Red Suns went through the synthesis, gestation, conditioning, and training of the copy meant to replace Wanderer. In truth, the one who Enot thought was their mate was only a week and a half old tops. The iterator had seen the benefits of a continued alliance with the thief, so they sought to create a mimic so perfect that the lovestruck criminal could still provide information to them even after Wanderer’s termination, leaving the Night’s Shadow none the wiser. What SRS-05 failed to notice, however, was the increased intensity of his captor’s trembling as his grim recounting continued.
Enot saw red. Turning the plier around, the slugcat charged forward with the intent of using the other end of the tool as a blunt weapon. They were a murderer, a terrifyingly efficient one at that, but it had never gotten this personal before. To them, death was a means to an end, be it the removal of one who stood in their path or a gruesome show of power to intimidate others, but this breaks that rule. As Enot Held 005 still and bashed down on his skull over and over again, they felt nothing but utter agony and rage, a burning desire for him to suffer for the cause that he represented, for the iterator to suffer for picking at their heart and seeking to reap benefits from the aftermath of their loss.
The screaming stopped rather quickly, and they knew that this clone of Wanderer had expired halfway through the beatings, but Enot was too blind to it to stop. Their face was not even recognizable at the end, a bloody pulp with bits of exposed brain poking out. As they finally came to from their trance, the Night’s Shadow collapsed on the floor sobbing, hand stained with blood and brain matter genetically identical to their love. This was only the first casualty of a vengeful war, a quest to nip any future attempts of iterators meddling with criminals in the bud for as long as they were still the Night’s Shadow, but they had yet to know that yet. Especially when they were grieving, the adrenaline wearing off, and the facsimile of their lover still lying dead in front of them.
They could never clean off the blood stain off the torn insignia, hastily ripped off one of the only uniforms they still had of the original Wanderer as they rushed upstairs in a hysterical state, before coming down and dipping it in the still-bleeding wound of his doppelganger. It was a reminder taken to harden themselves yet again, a reminder of just how far the iterators will go just to further their goals. After loading the paper drawing into the panel, Enot could not help but just peek a final glance at the cloth encased in a picture frame on the wall before calling out for their daughter to see the newly framed drawing, wondering when Wanderer could finally be avenged.
Trying to maintain a positive facade to hide the complexities of Night’s origins from the watchful eyes of their young daughter, they resumed a light-hearted tone. “alllllllright, nighty! check it out!” Their heart melted as Enot watched their daughter skip from around the corner of the bunker’s center table, ready to be carried up to see all of her best work hung up on the wall. The indigo slugcat slightly grunted in exertion as the pup jumped into their arms, the increasing heft of Night as they grew indicating the approaching date where they would be picked up like this for the last time, something that no parent would like to think about. Still, that day would not be today, as Enot was still physically fit enough to stand up with Night cradled in their arms.
The collage of pinned drawings Enot had chosen caused their daughter to squeal with glee, the masterful artist looking back at the collection of their best works so far. In truth, they have kept all of Night’s drawings, but only a few could claim the honor of being displayed up here. Alongside the new addition of them depicted shooting at “baddies”, there were several other drawings that even Enot was impressed by: the one with a strange iterator-shaped thing made of blue bulbs, the one with Night and Rivulet being drawn as superheroes setting a city on fire with laser eyes (dubious, yes, but she claimed that the city was a supervillain base in disguise so that’s that), even one featuring her and Wanderer, which Enot had recounted the story of their late father many, many times in order to continue his legacy. Seeing a new picture joining the others and Night’s utter delight at seeing that her mother was telling the truth about the secret fridge, Enot sighed in contentment. Despite all the trouble and extra measures that their daughter’s existence has wrought, they believed they made the right choice all the way back then when they realized that the final legacy of Wanderer was still hidden, growing within them.
Enot was in a slump after their murder of SRS-05, either crying inconsolably on their bed or throwing table objects around their hideout in fits of rage, they did not care for their body enough to even sleep or eat properly, much less pay attention to the first signs that something was changing. Yet, eventually, be it from them finally calming down enough to feel for just a moment, or the increasing nausea and shifting appetites that slowly surfaced, the horrible possibility that a piece of Wanderer still lives on came into their mind.
Any sign of vulnerability in a cutthroat environment like this would be lethal. It just takes one sign of injury, or sickness, or even just a rumor of a potential to be weak in the future, for one’s power to crumble away, for your former allies and enemies alike to tear you apart like a starving pack of yellow lizards. They do not disagree with this brutal and cruel game of nature, for they had partaken in it themselves to get their current position, but Enot knew that they must prevent themselves from this fate. Using a series of proxies and anonymous dropoffs to remove all traces connecting Enot to the purchase, the criminal had carried a small wrapped box into their private chamber, containing a test kit that would confirm or deny their worst fears.
No words could describe the cocktail of emotions when the test showed positive.
Enot stumbled onto their bed, about to collapse from the shock of the news. They were pregnant, the result of their and the late Wanderer’s union resulting in a child that their body now housed, a child that they thought would never be despite their hermaphroditic nature. Unlike the joy and anticipation of any usual parent, Enot was devastated knowing that what they feared was true, and that their weakness was only going to show more and more as they progressed along. So many cracks had already reared their ugly faces just from the criminal mastermind grieving their lover, but they knew that the knowledge of a child out unattended would only lead to future tragedies.
They had contemplated terminating the pregnancy, for their criminal lifestyle is incompatible with parenthood. No child deserves to be born under such oppressive darkness, in a world where competition takes on its most ruthless and unforgiving form. Yet… Enot felt a stabbing pain even at the thought of that, a primordial disgust like the one they had experienced as they stared down at the battered corpse of the one who bore Wanderer’s face, but much, much worse. This was the last remaining piece of Wanderer, half of both of them combined to create something new. They knew that he would not be disappointed had they decided to abort their offspring, knowing that the mantle of the Night’s Shadow was something Enot simply could not shed, but a decision was made that day, a silent vow to someone who has passed into the cycle to show how his escape from his programmed purpose was not to be in vain.
If there was one thing Enot knew, it was that their current base would not be habitable for long. Sooner or later, the growth of the pup would become impossible to conceal, the risk compounded by the frequent visitors who entered their hideout at inopportune moments. Luckily, creating false identities was something the seasoned criminal was not ignorant of. Using their wealth and connections, they created Sofanthiel, a wealthy heiress from a distant city on the other side of the continent, seeking a new life for her and her unborn child in a place as cultured as Luna. Documents were forged, false connections and associates were created, dresses and gowns were discreetly made in case of any public appearances. With that settled, they brought a mansion, the one that they still lived in till this day, in the gated upper districts of Luna to be their nest, to both hide the advancing stages of pregnancy and to house the young pup once they came into this world.
Next, their underground life was not to be ignored. The Night’s Shadow had spent years carving out their own corner of the city, and they refused to let it crumble to dust even now. Calling in favors and reorganizing their informants and subordinates, they made it so that their system could run autonomously even with them only running things from the background. A cover story was made to have the Night’s Shadow laying low due to planning for some sort of large heist, and they instructed the spreading of rumors and false sightings of the infamous thief still in action in order to prevent knowledge of this elaborate project, fooling their enemies and henchmen alike to the fact that the only thing that was to be retrieved from this “mission” was a child.
The transition was almost seamless. By the time the pup’s development was really showing, they had long sunk back into the shadows, hidden away from watchful eyes while their machinations continued to tick autonomously. Aside from a few of their closest and most trusted confidants, no one else in the underworld knew that the Night’s Shadow, the most revered and feared thief in Luna and Metropolis, was now an expecting mother. They could rest easy in their new luxurious abode, hiding away in their new disguise as the date drew nearer. Enot would admit that boredom sometimes got to them, the mundane calls and remote orders nowhere fulfilling their desire for the thrill of the chase, but they have other businesses to attend to. For one, reading up on every parenting book they could buy and renovate the house for their eventual arrival.
The day of their child’s birth was the most utterly humiliating day of Enot’s life. Unable to travel anywhere without rousing suspicion, they had to go under civilian disguise and deliver in a normal hospital using Sofanthiel's false identity. They were not inexperienced in the art of theatrics and manipulation, a key component in the obfuscation and uncovering of truth, but the fact that they were truly vulnerable here ground their gears. Under the guise of the expecting mother, nervous but determined to see her child come into the world, there was no hidden second layer, no transformation into the true ruthless criminal that lay beneath had the proceedings gone awry. If they were discovered in something as heavily guarded and maze-like as a hospital, without any of the hidden gadgets to make an easy distraction and escape, all while being in active labor, even they could not possibly think of an end other than arrest or death.
Ushered into the wards, their cloth disguises were stripped back layer by layer in order to be replaced with a hospital gown, many of the medical staff having unknowingly gotten a glimpse of the fur undercoat of Enot, one that held elusive to the police and their rivals for many years. They remained calm on the surface, the identity of Sofanthiel slowly cracking under the increasing exertion of labor but still remaining, but beneath their facade, they were praying to whatever gods there was that none of the hospital staff had been in contact with criminals, to whom they had shown their face a lot more liberally. Luckily, the staff seemed fooled by the forged documents, proceeding with delivery as if they were not treating a prolific criminal of metropolis that would have had at least a few centuries plus a couple of life sentences had they been caught, sparing some time for Enot to break composure and cry out in pain as the birth of their pup becomes more and more imminent by the second.
A new wail pierced the murmurs and chatters and mechanical beeps, their miracle exiting its previous abode into the hands of a nurse. Weakly lifting up their head, the Night’s Shadow watched the pup squirm as its umbilical cord was cut, being wiped clean with a towel as it was inspected by the medical team for any major injuries or health defects, another slugcat gently pressuring the pup’s chest to encourage breathing. From their announcements, it was news that would have given them joy regardless of the result: it was a girl. She was a lot darker than them, a color verging on complete black, with only a hint of indigo and deep blue that tied her to Enot. Their maternal instincts fully blossomed, stretching out their arms to welcome the newborn pup into their hold.
They have not felt doubt in their heart about their ways for so long now, but for just a split moment, Enot thought about true retirement. No more crimes, no more alliances and deals, just becoming a normal parent, a normal parent to their adorable daughter. As the pup rested in their arms, it was as if their past was all but crumbling away, and their civilian disguise, this hackneyed and poorly cobbled Sofanthiel, was now their truest self. From the first sight of their child, Enot knew what they were going to name her: Night. It was partially in honor of their criminal title, but it was also a promise. Night will be one born in the dark, but need not follow the darkness herself. Like a shadow, Enot would be there, always protecting their child from the darkness as they grew, untainted by the criminal past and treachery that birthed her.
They snapped back into the present, the still-fresh memory of Sofanthiel holding the newborn Night in her arms clashing with their current carry of the older pup, the faded stripes on her tail now slowly beginning to appear as the fur pattern inherited from Wanderer became more and more pronounced by the cycle. Had Enot fulfilled their promise to themselves and their lost love, to give his child a proper upbringing while balancing it with their own ambitions? They would say that for the moment being, all was well. Turning to ascend the staircase out of the basement again, the attentive mother slugcat heard Night’s stomach growling, clearly very eager to eat dinner after the adventure below satiated her mental needs.
Hmm… perhaps they need not settle for reheated takeout tonight.
Enot hummed as they dumped the frozen contents within the bag of Spaghetti into the pot, stirring the chunks of bundled precooked spaghetti and frozen cubes of sauce around with a spatula. In a second pan, the Rain Deer meatballs were frying off nicely, giving off a fragrant smell. It was not quite home cooking, but you try spending hours prepping ingredients and equipments while having to run a criminal organization as a day job. Its really harder than they show on TVs, but whenever there was a long break between the projects, they would try to serve something proper up instead of just re-cooking frozen meals and calling it a day.
At least Night was old enough to use the microwave safely now. Enot had to childproof it still for the pup to get the heated takeouts out of the microwave without burning her hands, but it was still a sign that their daughter was now one step closer to independence. They had to get back to the job and make sure their network did not break apart while they were gone to have a child in secret, so working late like this was a common occurrence even when Night was a barely-weaned pup. Enot tried as much as they could to lay low for the time, sticking with smaller-scale operations in order to free up more space for tending to their child, but… their place in the world’s function still calls for them, calls for the Night’s Shadow.
Babysitters was quite a decent plan, they had made the secret entrance to their bunker quite hidden for a layscug or layscav. Most were not too questioning about it, the Sofanthiel cover story and the handsome rates were more than enough to distract a few teen slugs wanting a quick buck. There was an incident with one of them, can’t exactly remember his name but Enot remembered it started with a V? A spunky orange adolescent who refused to take off his “cool” glasses, he was the only one to discover the entrance pad and access the secret bunker. Good thing Enot had a lockdown protocol for any intruder not recognized in the bunker scanner whitelist, preventing what could have been it for both of Enot and Night. Poor kid, really, had a good heart but chose the wrong client and got too curious for his own good. After hearing that the slug had some family issues at home and taking pity on him, they decided to let the orange babysitter go with some hush money in order to seal his mouth on the nature of the bunker to anyone.
Tying their criminal friends to their family business was never up for consideration. The secret was airtight from both ends since the very start, with essentially no one knowing of their double life much less that they had a kid and a house in one of the snooty gated districts. The only exception to this was Riptide, their friend and former getaway driver from when Enot was still a small-time thief who had now since gone clean. When they could not make the proper arrangements, she would usually agree to swing by and babysit Night, usually bringing her daughter Rivulet over as well for a playdate. Really, even if some of their closest confidants who knew of Night’s existence had offered to help, they really could not see some of them taking care of a pup. They had seen some of these slug’s hideouts, they couldn’t clean their place if it was to save their life.
Dumping the cooked meatballs into the now melted sauce, Enot turned off the second stove and worked on flipping the bundles of pasta, defrosting the top side and detangling the individual strands from each other. Dipping a finger into the sauce quickly to taste for seasoning, they opened the spice drawer to add some garlic powder and paprika for some extra kicks of flavor. With the dinner now fully prepared and smelling as nice as ever, Enot gave it a final stir before pulling out two plates from the pantry, serving up a pup-sized serving for their daughter and dumping the rest on their own plate. “dinner’s ready!” Calling out for Night to come over to eat, the indigo slugcat grabbed the two steaming hot plates of spaghetti and placed them on either end of the small wooden dining table, Nightcat was currently struggling to climb up her chair as Enot set down the forks.
The indigo slugcat reveled in the simple satisfaction of domestic life as Night eagerly twirled her fork into the pile of pasta, stabbing into a chunk of a meatball to get a balanced bite for them to swallow. After a few bites of their own, Enot finally broke the silence. “so, nighty. how did ya think of the secret drawing stash i made?”
The pup enthusiastically waved the fork up in the air, speaking with a large amount of spaghetti still in her mouth. “I loufed itph! Yurf tfmph be-”
“now now, dear. chew ur food before speaking, thats good table manners.” Enot chided with a mock consternation, the tenderness barely being contained in their tone. After a few seconds of the pup’s silent chewing, bits of marinara still sticking to her lips, Night finally swallowed and spoke again, her enthusiasm still uncurbed. “I loved it! You are the best mom ever!!” The pup beamed, joy radiating off her small face. “I wish all my classmates can have a superhero mom as well!”
Enot can’t help but chuckle at that remark. “guess not all pups are as lucky as u are, darling.” If they were to be put in this spectrum, they are not sure if their deeds and powers grant them the title of a supervillain, but their flair for the dramatic, their abnormal amount of hidden gadgets, and their secret base would certainly be indicative of one. They had been an avid collector of comics during their teen days, before their first foray into crime, and they had unconsciously designed many of their hidden storerooms and hideouts around these evil lairs, the white fluorescent lights shining on the cold metal floors and the droning blue monitors was certainly an aesthetic Enot had been aiming for in order to immerse themselves in this almost cartoonish level of villainy that they had came to embrace. Funny how Night fully believed that they were a superhero, but Enot was willing to play along with her innocent imaginations for as long as they were kept.
“maybe i should make the panels bigger, can fit more of your drawing on there.” The indigo slugcat mused in between forkfuls of spaghetti, even eating this simple meal with the refined elegance that they had portrayed themselves as in their career. “im sure u have more art stored up in ya. just need time for you to come thinking of them, and i will wait here to post them alongside your best works.”
Night twirled her fork around, seemingly deep in thought. “Yeah! Maybe you can tell me some more stories for me to doodle?”
“sure! i think i have one just prepared for bedtime.” Watching the pup get visibly excited, beginning to devour her meal faster as if impatient for sleep and the chance to hear the story, Enot began plotting the threads of a retelling of one of their more recent ventures. It was just a heist for some important data from an iterator named Sliver of Straw, so they are sure they can spin this into heroics somehow. Maybe omit the part where they stole her puppet’s legs, a last-minute appendix to the plan made when they were drunk and thought that crippling an iterator would be hilarious, Enot really did not see a possible way to picture that in any moral way.
The rest of the meal was filled with comfortable chatter, with Enot inquiring about all the bits of their daughter’s life that they were forced to miss out on. They discussed school, homework, playground rivalries, basically whatever a pup thought was interesting news. There was a new student who joined her 1st-grade class today, a shy yellow pup named Monk, and she said that they got to get along pretty well during recess. The indigo slugcat wondered if it was even safe to let her take her friends back to the house for a playdate, but… they were just pups. As long as they make the secret entrance hidden enough, no one should know any better that Night’s mother was anything but Sofanthiel.
As Enot was putting the dishes and the two pans in the sink for washing, Night was already up on the couch, ready to spend the last hour or so before bedtime watching TV. The slugcat leading a double life sighed in grim determination, capturing this moment in their mind for them to understand what was there to lose if they were to slip up just once. Enot still has a promise to fulfill to Wanderer, for a child of a child of an iterator to live a life outside of the perfect control of random gods, outside of the fractal chaos of the criminal underworld, a combination of two different sides that would get to live the happy childhood that neither of her parents had.
They could wash the dishes later after they put Night to bed. For now, they should enjoy what little time they can afford to spend with their daughter, immersing themselves into this second life they had built. As Enot settled down on the couch next to the pup, they grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels, trying to find something to pass the time. Hmm… one of the channels is apparently airing the pilot episode for a show called “Family Guy”? Sounds interesting, might as well give it a watch.
As night fell outside, a mother and a daughter scooted next to each other, ready to watch whatever life has got for them.