Work Text:
THUNK
“hahah you suck at this!”
WHAM
Raz hung his head and Timmy blew a raspberry as he spun round.
SQUELCH
“Come on! That wasn’t even a vital organ!”
*SHUT UP AND LET ME CONCENTRATE!* Eln brandished a fresh knife at the goading asshole currently strapped to a giant spinning wooden wheel.
SPLURT
The knife made its home in Timmy’s taunting tongue, pinning it to the board, electing a duet of cheers. The Dealer walked behind the group to a mini version of the ship's main control board, pressing one of the com buttons.
“Monroe, come to the torture dungeon we-“
“Yes~ SIR~!” Monroe’s text to speech voice responded.
“-Have a client phoning in,” he finished with a grumble.
Timmy promptly ripped his wrists, ankles, and tongue out of their respective confines, flopping to the floor and wiggling grossly as he regenerated the disrespected limbs. “Is it the one with too many eyes?” He asked, “I like that one,”. One final knife was chucked at Timmy’s head as Eln and Raz turned towards the projector screen being lowered from the ceiling.
Raz popped his back and adjusted one of his rabbit ear antenna. “I hope it’s something exciting. My brain is going to start corroding if we don’t get a good mission soon,”
*You only say that because you lack the imaginative edgenuity to entertain yourself properly,* Eln chidded
“Says the one who was bored enough to start throwing knifes at Timmy despite the bloody mess it made,”
*And yet it entertained us all did it not?* Came the parasite's smug retort.
“You know what, fair enough,”
The projector fizzled to life right as Monroe walked in and Timmy slipped his shoes off his disembodied feet onto his new feet.
“GOOD MORNING AND OR AFTERNOON TO YOU SIR THE DEALER AND CREW!” a needlessly theatrical voice with a strange amalgamation of accents shrieked through the speakers. There was a moment of shrill feedback where everyone gritted their literal or metaphorical teeth, as Raz adjusted the audio settings. Seemingly uninterested in the new mission Timmy drew a summoning circle on the ground in his own blood. The alien phoning in was from a relatively unknown species who appeared to have evolved to look semi decomposed… and have a hand in their mouths.
The Dealer put on his usual professional tone, “State your na-”
“MY NAME IS MMMMMMMMPARK, no wait Dark yeah DARK, MY NAME IS DARK MPARK,”
“State your bu-”
“AND I HAVE COME TO YOU IN NEED OF YOUR SERVICE!” The Dealer grumbled at the second interruption. “YOU SEE, I NEED A DANGEROUS AND VERY RARE ITEM, FOUND ONLY IN THE DEPTHS OF THIS LIFE THREATENING JUNGLE. I NEED THE LARGE BLUE ROCK OF SORROWS!!!” The strange alien flapped its lifeless arms around for dramatic effect. Meanwhile, Timmy slammed his hands together in a strange collection of configurations and then, completely separately from the summoning circle he’d drawn, made a portal next to him and yoinked a pantless, cereal eating, John through.
“As luck would ha-” The Dealer was cut off yet again and John tripped on his way in, and the bowl of cereal flew right into the side of the owl mask. The Dealer turned very slowly to the human crumpled up on the ground trying to cover his briefs by over stretching his sweater. John froze as he watched a cheerio slide down the beak of one of the most feared men in the known universe. “As luck would have it,” He turned back to the video call as if nothing had happened. “I am already in possession of such a stone,” he gestured to Raz who helpfully pulled up security cam footage of a large blue rock in one of their storage rooms.
“ᵒʰ ˢʰᶦᵗ, ᴵ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ- shut up! AHEM UH DID I SAY THE LARGE BLUE ROCK OF SORROWS? THAT WAS A TYPE-O, I MEANT TO SAY THE UH THE LIGHT BLUE PEBBLE OF MELANCHOLY!”
“We have that as well,” A new rock was displayed on Raz’s screen. “Seeing as we are already in possession of the item you require, let’s move on to the discussion of paym-” John's scream interrupted The Dealer, his gloved hand curling into a tight fist.
“Hey, how come you have markings on your upper limbs and not your lower limbs?” Timmy asked nonchalantly, pulling at his human’s sweater and poking his bare legs. John yelped, successfully worming his way out of his sweater and running to hide under a desk. This did fuck all as a deterant, as Timmy just portaled the desk into the vacuum of space.
The Dealer looked at Monroe. Monroe sighed and went over to the resident trouble makers. A few quick presses to the control board, and The Dealer brought out a microphone, allowing him to be the only voice heard from the room. “Let’s move on to the discussion of payment and the exchange location.”
“Uh… right,” The strange alien agreed. “W-well uh, HERE ARE MY COORDINATES, MEET ME HERE AND I WILL HAVE PAYMENT BEYOND YOUR WILDEST DREAMS KTHANKSBYE!” the screen went black, and the dealer plucked a cheerio from his feathers. Behind him Monroe was herding John like a frightened sheep out of the room, with Timmy -playing the roll of wolf a little too well- running after them on all fours.
“Oh today’s gonna be great!” Raz announced.
+++
When your spaceship is as big as The Dealers is, it becomes more of a space station that moves rather than an actual ship that can do much maneuvering. As a result, it is important to have smaller, more mobile ships with delicate piloting, and the capability to fly in a multitude of atmospheres. That being said, smaller is not always better when the entire crew wants to go watch what is most certainly a poorly planned attempt on their boss's life, play out like live TV, and there are only 4 seats.
“Uh, why am I here exactly?” John asked meekly from his seat atop Monroe’s lap.
“Shut up,” was The Dealers only answer. He sat in the passenger seat, as Raz flew the mini-ship towards what looked like the shattered remains of a planet. Gleeful sparks flew between his antenna as he expertly maneuvered the mini ship through the debris of the once-planet, far enough away from stray rocks to not hit the ship, but close enough that Timmy -who was tied to the back of this ship with a rope- would be repeatedly assaulted. John glanced out the window in the back. Timmy was grinning and striking various different ninja-like poses, as his ears and fingers repeatedly froze off and regenerated.
“Also, I’m not complaining -I really do appreciate it- but why am I wearing Raz’s shorts?” He spoke softer, this question more directed at Monroe than anyone else. He twisted slightly in the older man's lap to be able to see his hands.
[Cause your waist is tiny and Raz is the only one who wears pants with a drawstring,] Monroe signed. [But if you keep squirming around I’ll be all too happy to take them off you ;)]
John promptly stopped breathing, and held as still as possible for the remainder of the trip.
+++
The ship landed smoothly on the ground, followed shortly by Timmy crashing to the ground as a meteor due to his rope having burned up in the atmosphere. His limbs twisted and clicked grotesquely, his body returning to default settings as the others exited the ship.
“Man, I'm hungry!” He announced.
“Don’t fuckin look at me!” John declared, swiftly moving behind Raz. The cyborg's body unfortunately did nothing to shield him from the sinnfully cold wind that blasted right through his worn and abused old sweater. “What the shit!! Why is it so cold? This place looks like a desert!”
“It’s cause whatever crashed into this planet knocked it pretty far back from its original orbital path. Too far from sun equals permanent winter,” Raz supplied as they walked towards the ruins of an old settlement. Icey white sand whipped across Johns bare toes as the tawny light of the sun did fuck all.
“It was a moon,” Timmy noted suddenly on the other side of John. “I know cause I did it” he said over John's shrieking.
“You pee-brain,” Raz chidded as they approached the unassuming brick of what was once a home. Beautiful, intricate, weavings hung in broken windows, billowing heavy with loneliness. “This planet used to be one of the best places to get oxidized zinc,” If any of the group had cared to look around them, they might have noticed the remnants of bedrooms, some of which still held the bodies of the original owners.
Amidst all the ancient rubble, a hastily built shack sat obtusely in the center of an old market square.
“AH SO YOU’VE FINALLY ARRIVED,” the ‘customer’ shouted from the shack. “YOU CAN SEE HERE I HAVE YOUR PAYMENT READY,” A limp hand tied to a stick, waved about with a bundle of leaves tapped to it.
The Dealer nudged John. “Go get it,”
“ME?! Me?! But but but that that’s just a bundle of leaves isn’t it a-a-a-also why mE?!”
“Yes but it's a potentially very valuable bundle of leaves that you are going to go get because I said so cereal boy,” The Dealer never once raised his voice but his broad form looming threateningly over John's shrunken and shivering body left little room for anything other than pants pissing terror.
Slowly. Agonizingly slowly, John crossed the threshold. The creature’s head lobbed unnaturally to the side as John slowly reached out his hand.
“TEETH IN YOUR FLESH!!”
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!”
The corpse puppet bit down on John’s hand and moments later the shack exploded. Mark stood with his hand shoved through the corpse's stomach and out its mouth, his hand firmly clamped around John’s wrist. From behind the ruble, other klykolians lept into view, all of them dressed in similar deep purple tactical gear, save for the smallest one who couldn’t be seen beyond his shroud.
“AA-HA!!” Mark shouted. “I can’t believe you fell for such a stupidly obvious trap,”
[Fell, jumped… dove in head first,] Monroe signed to no one in particular.
“Now surrender yourself or I’m stealing this…” Mark glanced at the unconscious pile of human formally known as John. “This weird looking thing,” Mark glanced at one of his soldiers. “What did you say this thing was called?” A portal slid up John’s body and closed around Mark's wrist. “Oh you DICKHEAD!”
The other end of the portal opened up over Eln, and John -with his new hand bracelet- crashed on top of him.
“Dude, why does your plan suck so much eggs?” Timmy asked. Mark groaned and his backup Corus of boys rolled their eyes in solidarity.
“Cause it’s not my plan. Fuckin Kyle said I had to. You guys were supposed to go through this series of traps and then when you were weakened i was supposed to challenge you to 636 and who-“
“636!! I haven’t played that since before the genocide!“
“…loser goes back to Klykol,”
“Deal!” Timmy shouted and Mark slapped his own face. Of course it would be that easy.
The older brother turned and nodded at one of his men. A scruffy and unwashed looking klykolian with soot covered hair and docked ears threw a rock at his commander.
“Remember Tilili, no portals!” He chidded.
“I haven’t remembered anything in centuries!” Timmy knocked over a wooden pillar to denote the separation of their sides. The ruin square was now a court.
“God your so fucking annoying!” He hurled the rock and Timmy dove to catch it, sliding victoriously through the sand. “Let’s make this quick, 3 points to start,”
“Dogs or avocados?” Timmy just barely dropped the rock over the line of the wooden pole and Mark had to scramble to catch it in time.
“I think you should be euthanized you antithetical Darwin Award!” He hurled the rock all the way across to the opposite side of Timmy’s court.
John’s eyes blinked open slowly, “What happened?” He sat up just in time to see a rock diving towards his head. Timmy lept with the rock, catching it as he jumped over John, and just as quickly shooting it back over to Mark. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!” His arms shielded his head and his knees tucked up to his chest. The closest he could get to going full defensive turtle mode.
“I’ll be honest,” Raz plopped down next to him, “I’m not sure. Kinda sad we didn’t get to see an attempted murder though,”
John dared a glance across the courtyard. Timmy and Mark were tossing a fairly sizable rock back and forth at top speeds, seemingly purposely throwing it far away from their opponent, and taking care not to let it hit the ground on their side. Each would throw with their hands six times, and then switch to a more hacky-sack style approach for three moves, before going back to hand moves.
The Dealer and his crew were watching with the lackadaisical interest of those who had nothing better to do; Monroe and Eln seemed more invested in the bets they’d placed than the actual game. Inversely, everyone from Marks team was watching with intent. There was cheering and hollering, some of them were even taking notes.
All except for the one in the shroud, who sat on a rock off to the side, separate from the main group. His head rested in his blue tinted hands and his leg bounced restlessly from under his cape.
“Hahah you’re on foot moves dumb ass!” Mark yelled victoriously as Timmy caught the rock. The younger brother looked unamused, kicking the rock right into the sand on Mark's side while he was too busy laughing to block. “FUCK! Fine two and two,”
“What’s the point of this game?” John asked.
“Oh whoever loses has to go back to their home world I guess,” Raz supplied.
“KICK HIS ASS MARK!!” The soot haired soldier shouted.
“YEAH MARK TAKE HIM DOWN!” Raz joined in. Timmy laughed good naturedly as he hopped around on one foot juggling the rock with the other. A stiff wind blew in and he faltered, the rock falling on his side. 1:2
“Do you think Timmy would actually listen and go if he lost?” John wondered aloud.
“Who knows,” Raz shrugged. “Timmy follows rules sometimes, especially if he thinks they’re funny. Now the real trick would be if they could keep him on Klykol. Now that I would pay to see,”. As they talked, Timmy shot the rock like a bullet at the head of one of Mark’s soldiers. Mark -who was on foot moves- had to choose between letting his team mate suffer the blow, or losing a point.
The rock broke through the skin of his palms when he caught it. Teal blood hit the sand as he grit his teeth.
1:1
“Wait,” John suddenly felt panic rise in his throat. “If Timmy gets effectively deported, how am I gonna get back home?!”
“Well I assume you’d have to commission The Dealer,” Raz’s screen projected him raising an eyebrow at the strange fear.
“You don’t understand!” John gripped the others mechanical arms. “I don’t have anything of value!” He cast a glance at the demi god of capitalism, the owl mask only looking back with a hauntingly blank gaze.
*In that case you’d likely be stuck,* Eln chimed in, *Forced to work off your debt for… let’s see, factoring in how bad you are at most things… the rest of your life.*
“TimMy MaYbE dOnT lOsE!!”
Timmy turned at the sound of his name. Mark grinned and threw the rock straight into Timmy's skull.
The wind howled.
Timmy fell over.
“Game, set, match,” Mark wore a smug grin like a trophy. “Boy’s, grab the-”
“WAIT TECHNICALLY-” John shot up before quite literally getting cold feet. “T-t-technically the ball -or shit I guess it’s a rock isn’t it- but um it’s still in his skull. So it didn’t hit the ground!” A few of Mark's soldiers whispered and snickered to each other. The shrouded figure moved to stand but otherwise remained disengaged. Timmy’s head had already started to regenerate around the rock and he had to rip it out of his head bringing a fresh splurt of blood to the ground. “...unless there’s a rule about regeneration or maybe I didn’t interpret the game ri-”
“I mean technically you’re right,” Mark sighed, “But why do you care?”
“ᴄₐᵤₛₑ ɪ 𝓌ₐⁿⁿₐ 𝓰ₒ ʰₒₘₑ,” John whined. This elected a chorus of laughter from the soldiers behind Mark, who just rolled his eyes. Timmy, on the other hand, made a fart noise and dropped the rock on Mark’s side of the court.
1:0
“Oh you son of a bitch,” Mark lunged across the wooden divider. He wrapped his hands around his brother's throat, squeezing tighter with every unholy gagging sound, until a pair of pants was wrapped around his eyes.
Army green pants.
“You son of a bitch!” John yelled, “Don’t use my pants like that! Those are my favorite pair!”
Mark slams their heads together with enough force that both of them leave with a trail of blood from the nose slit. The older brother stood up, throwing the pants to the side, whipping the blood off and looking at the other who sat on the ground, happy as a lark.
“Hahah, you’re it now,” Timmy grinned and Mark grimaced.
“You know what? Fine. I’ve been chasing you for decades, what’s another couple months?” He turned back to his boys. “Let’s go rob some graves!” A couple boys cheered at this and a few others rolled their eyes, but they all made their exit regardless.
The shrouded figure held back for a moment. Moving opposite to the others he grabbed the abused pants and walked up to John, holding them out in one blue hand.
This close up John could see he was wearing a black mask with an X over it. Between the mask and the hood all that could be seen was three golden irises. “Oh uh, thanks,” John said, taking the pants in his own purple hands.
Wait.
“AAAHHHH SHIT SHIT MY HANDS ARE GONNA FALL OFF!!!” Now that he was aware of them, they stung like a bitch too. Timmy strode over and rested his arm on top of his human's head.
“What’s the big deal, they’ll grow back. Hey! When they fall off can I have ‘em?”
“THEY ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT GROW BACK AND EVEN IF THEY DID YOU MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO TAKE ANY OF MY BODY PARTS NOT NOW NOT EVER!!”
Uninterested in the petty squabbling, the small blue alien turned and headed back towards the retreating group of soldiers.
“What was that?” A Klykolian with twin tail braids and an eye patch teased. Another soldier with glasses slid up next to him.
“Oh here little baby. I wanted to bring these to you even though they’re only a couple units away from you because I need the universe to know I’m a nice person,” He pantomimed handing something to his friend.
“Was it nice to finally see someone smaller and weaker than you?” The single-eyed-soldier asked. “Or did it just hurt too much in that big big heart of yours.” He roughly jabbed the small alien in the chest, who refused to outwardly react in any way.
“Careful guys,” The soot haired soldier snarked. “If you get him too riled up he might unleash his secret weapon” He feigned fright.
“Pft! Yeah what is it? The power of friendship?” They all laughed.
“That’s enough bullying Quitain for now,” A clean cut Klykolian with impossibly tight posture chimed in. “His species is incredibly weak to social bonds and if he goes and kills himself because of a few harsh words then not only are we down a scout but I have to re-do the math on distributing rations,” They all groaned at the end of their fun but obeyed nonetheless.
“Now. Who wants to place bets on Kyle's reaction to his plane failing?”