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Although abandoned for many years, the Steamworks still held many of its original mechanical qualities.
Initially the grandiose powerhouse of the Underground, Moray felt like they’ve made enough trips here to at least know where all the important areas were. After all, they knew the Eastern Mines like the back of their pearl-adorned hand — what difference would this make? Their metallic boots tapped loudly against the steel floor, the echoes seeming to increase in volume as the sound bounced through the barren halls. It wasn’t comforting, being alone in this old, desolate factory. Ever since the CORE was built, the Steamworks facility had gained a sadder overlay; a shell of its former bustling self. Moray considered themself lucky that Clover and Ceroba had previously turned on the power in this old place, right before they got there. Otherwise, they would’ve had to struggle way more than they already were.
They walked in a specific rhythm, the holder of their rapier thumping lightly with it. Moray began humming their battle theme — well, it was theirs as much as it was their friends’. Ed, Mooch, Ace; all three of them shared this theme between one another. It gave Moray a personal sense of comfort, familiarity. Even without Star, the team’s alliteration still stuck. From the Feisty Five, to the Feisty Four; though the latter was only used during the battle against Clover when Star had left.
Star… Moray sighed, the reason they were here clouding their mind once again. When Star “came back,” he was different. He looked different, his actions were different. It was like someone else had taken his place.
They had asked Clover, the young human child who was the last to see Star. Perhaps it was just Moray, but the child had seemed a bit… squeamish. Nervous. They didn’t directly answer their question, instead guiding them to their petal-adorned friend. “Flowey the flower,” he had called himself.
Flowey was an odd monster; he seemed to have a strange aura surrounding him, as if his SOUL was mixed with one of a human’s… Either way, he explained everything that had previously happened. From the death of Star to his… rebirth, in a way.
“Be glad I was willing to help your little friend here,” Flowey had exclaimed. “They really should exercise making better decisions.”
As horrifying as it was to hear, Star had died — “had” being the key word. He was brought back. Just… not in the way Moray — or anyone — expected.
That’s why they were here now. Star, the new, reborn Star, was said to have stayed in the Steamworks’ Greenhouse. That’s where they were going. That’s where they needed to go.
That’s where Star is.
Finally, after twists and turns down vacant corridors (and constantly avoiding that guard bot…), Moray had finally reached the Greenhouse.
The aroma of slightly wilted flowers and bleach had been lifted into the air, creeping through the cracks of the garden’s confines. Patches of colorless grass made it past the enclosure, breaking through the glass and spreading everywhere.
Moray inhaled and exhaled deeply, tapping their left foot nervously. They grabbed their revolver — no, Star’s revolver — holding it tightly as they walked through the metallic doors.
The dust-like remains of petals flew into the air with each movement they made. Almost everything was covered with the same powdery greenery, displaying a striking resemblance to snow. Even here, machinery was still present. Multiple containers and vials stood upon metallic shelves, overthrown by the foliage as well. Almost everything in here had been blanketed in plant life, actually…
Moray treaded lightly, careful not to disturb anything more than they already had. They also took the time to fully take notice of their surroundings. What really surprised them were the digital entries on the walls — they were still working, beeping lightly. Even though the power was on, they didn’t expect them to fully work… They pushed back the urge to investigate more.
After a while, they turned a corner to reach a hallway. Pale, colorless vines hung from the ceiling and walls, some even grazing the floor below them. Small, achromatic patches of grass peeked through the steel, forming semi-neat circles. Delicate tulips grouped together, entwined around one another to support themselves. The scent of bleach was even stronger here.
Moray scanned the area for a bit, looking for anything signifying Star’s presence.
There. A slight rustling noise from up ahead.
Walking a bit faster now, they moved closer to the noise they had heard, being careful as to not step on any pieces of foliage. Even though they were nearing their death, Moray thought they should at least respect the life the greenery had left.
Out of the corner of their eye, they saw something shift. They turned to look, and a flurry of emotions hit them all at once; as if the blizzard-like feel of a Glacialstone was placed into their head.
Star was crouching down, carefully fingering with a few strands of grass. For the first time in a while, he looked content. At peace.
“Ah—” Star whipped around as soon as Moray made the slightest noise. They chuckled lightly, stepping a bit closer. “Hey, Star…”
It was really him. Well, kind of. Tilted, reddish-brown hat; ripped, light brown poncho; dulled, dark brown boots. Vines and small golden flowers dotted his attire — about three quarters of Star’s face was obscured, only one startling eye visible. Some of the vines were impaled by small fragments of glass.
The plant-possessed sheriff stared at Moray, head slightly tilted. He didn’t make a sound.
Moray took out Star’s revolver from their pocket, smiling softly. “Do you remember this?” They spun it around their fingers with only the smallest bit of struggle. “Y’know, you used to use this all the ti—”
BANG! BANG!
The trigger was somehow pulled, shooting two silver bullets in Star’s direction. Moray stumbled back in surprise, catching their physical body before it fell and their mental state off guard.
Star acted quickly, projecting two vines out of both hands, catching both bullets before they could do any damage. Didn’t know he could do that…
The sheriff dropped the two bullets onto the Greenhouse’s floor. They sank into the thickened, uncut grass, leaving a sort of an imprint. A hurt and hostile aura seemed to emanate from Star himself. His eye narrowed, glare set on Moray.
“O-Oh, jeez…” Moray mumbled, regaining their footing. “I’m sorry, Star” — they moved forward a slight bit — “I really didn’t mean that…”
Vines started to rise out of the crack in the floor, slowly beginning to surround Moray. “Whoa, calm down! I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Star didn’t seem convinced, as the vines were starting to speed up their growth. His stare never faltered.
“Star, come on. I really don’t want to hurt you.” Moray put the revolver back in the holder on their belt. Their right hand rested on their trusted rapier, preparing for… anything, really.
Vines shot out of the ground, threatening to ensnare Moray. They gasped lightly, pulling out their sword and neatly spinning around, slicing the foliage that their former leader was controlling.
“Please, Star!” Moray asked, practically begging at this point. “Come on, snap out of it! Whoa—”
Thorn-adorned vine wrapped around them, digging between the spaces between their scales. Small specks of dust fell, and Moray had to keep themself from exclaiming in pain. “Di— Ow— Okay, just — ow — hear me out, please!”
They still held their rapier, of which they attempted to use to free themself. Even though it hurt to move and flakes of dust were rapidly falling, they still tried.
Star appeared to dislike that idea, shooting out yet another vine to rip Moray’s rapier out of their hands. His face remained expressionless, stoic.
“No!” Moray screamed, feeling their grip on their weapon loosen severely. They held back another scream as their confines tightened, thorns digging into their body further.
Their rapier clattered loudly as Star tossed it aside, retracting the foliage he had used.
Panic and pain coursed through Moray’s mind like the heat of a Swelterstone. “Ow— Okay, Star, listen to me!” they pleaded.
Their effort was futile. Their former leader didn’t seem convinced. They raised their voice, despite the pain. “Listen — ow — please! I-I know — we know — that you— you would never act like this!” They winced, but still continued. “The North Star I know — ow — he would n-never do this!”
They noticed that Star jumped the slightest bit. He looked like he had realized something, like Moray had struck something that they should’ve. The vines holding them seemed to loosen.
Moray chuckled, even though it hurt. “North Star, that’s you. He’s a — ow — leader. An entertainer. A protector.
“He’s known throughout the — ow — the whole Wild East, loved by everyone. And although he’s—” they hesitated, wincing — “he’s not quite here at the moment, e-everyone still knows his name.”
The vines loosened again. Star looked less tense than he had before. Almost there.
“I-I know everything seems really—” they sucked in a pained breath — “ really confusing, and it is, but this? This isn’t the way to go around it,” Moray explained. “I-I didn’t mean to pull the trigger earlier. Ow… I didn’t want to hurt you.” They paused. “…All right?”
Star hesitated for a moment, before inclining his head. Moray’s bindings started to disconnect from their entangled state. The vines retreated, seeping back into the floor.
Moray sighed in relief, finally feeling their feet touch the ground with a soft clunk! . Shaking themself, they exhaled a “thanks” while inspecting their body. Their clothes had numerous small rips, nothing that they and Ace could fix. The main concern were their injuries, deep cuts and scratches littered their whole body. That’s going to be a pain to patch up…
The now-passive Star walked up to them, holding their rapier in his left hand. He held it out to them, a soft look in his previously bitter eye.
“Ah, thank you again.” Moray took their sword back, slicing the air twice before putting it back in its holder.
Moray’s former leader then walked in front of them, crouching down next to a small patch of grass. Moray themself watched in slight awe as one golden flower began to bloom.
Once the petals had unfolded fully, now lush and rich in life, Star carefully picked it out of the ground. Holding it gently, he offered it to Moray.
Maybe a peace offering, a promise of non-violence? “Oh, is— is that for me?” Moray asked.
Star nodded lightly. He put the flower into their hair, adjusting it so as to prevent it from falling. As Moray chuckled, some vines wrapped around their right arm. The former sheriff glanced at it, taking notice of the flakes of dust coming from their wounds.
Tilting their head in confused curiosity, Moray followed Star’s gaze. “Oh, that?” they said. “It’ll be fine. It’ll heal in its own time.”
Just like you, Star.