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“Hey quick question, where am I?”
“In my arms,” Timmy answered John overly casually as they walked across the dusty roof tops of some small city John had never seen before.
“Well yes, but I was hoping for where in space I am.”
“Right. Here. Dumb ass,” Timmy shook him after every word, and John gave up getting a real answer.
The sun was annoyingly hot and bore down on them uncaringly; every second made their inevitable sun burns worse. John rolled his eyes and brought his hands up to shield his face. Timmy took way too much joy in picking at his scabs and he knew that if he got a sunburn Timmy was bound to peel his dead skin off and eat it in front of him, which would make him puke and then Timmy would bully him for having a weak stomach and it would just turn into a whole ordeal. There really should be a limit to how much inane bullshit one person could put him through.
Suddenly,Timmy's legs coiled under them like springs, and John had no time to prepare himself before they were launched across the wide, mostly empty street, landing on a slightly taller roof with a hard impact that felt like it would have shattered John's legs, had their positions been reversed. A few scattered pedestrians in sun protective garb piddled around below them, but none seemed to think much of the klykolian kangaroo.
John’s ribs slammed against Timmy’s arms when they hit the roof, his breath wheezing out in a hurried whoosh that sent him into a coughing fit. It took John twice as long as it reasonably should have to recover, and he spent that time panicking absently about atmospheric differences and oxygen levels until he's rudely interrupted by Timmy's laughter.
“How can you be so bad at breathing?”
“HOW cAN YOU- uh- how can you be-… shut up!” Life is hard. It’s hard and no one understands. “Where is everyone else anyway?”
“Not in my arms.” A lobotomy was starting to sound seriously beneficial to John’s life. “They’re on the same side of this planet but not here.”
“Is this a mission, a supply run, or an accident?”
Timmy’s cartoonishly large eyes peered into John’s soul as he pressed their foreheads together. “Shouldn’t you already know? You were there when we were talking about it.”
“Yeah but I was…” John stalled as he pointedly didn’t think of how much of his life he’d lost to disassociation, “… spacing out,”
“Well that’s good. Space should always be out. Space sucks so much when it’s in.”
Just then a Long Distance Communication Device -that Timmy had never worn before- buzzed to life from its spot strapped to his wrist. A laggy, low-resolution image of The Dealer fizzled onto a screen-like hologram, tinny gunshots and shrill, rowdy screaming stuttering their way out of the communicator's tiny speakers as best they could.
“I just want you to know,” The Dealer announced, “I blame you for this.” The LDCD flicked off as a Klykolian soldier jumped on The Dealer.
Timmy sniveled sentimentally, “He’s so thoughtful,” and blew his ‘nose’ in John's hair.
John tried to manually suppress his anxiety. That wasn’t a call for help right? There’s no way The Dealer would make a call for help, and even if he did there’s no way he’d make it to Timmy of all creatures. But if he were to make a call for help, that is probably how he’d do it. And Timmy might not be the first person he called for help but calling for help in the first place would indicate that he was out of options. But The Dealer was practically built out of pride and John was very confident he’d rather die than admit to needing help from anyone but Monroe.
“They’re… They’re gonna be fine right?” he asked Timmy.
“Unfortunately yeah, but we might not be!” Timmy excitedly leaned them both over the far edge of the roof just in time to see Mark and the shrouded soldier slide into view.
“Tilimilinikitala, today we settle this like adults!” Mark hollered, brandishing his stupidly large sword. Timmy grinned and dove off the roof, flipping and landing with barely enough grace to keep from shattering John's ankles as he was sent screaming down with him.
The citizens of the town watched with cautious interest as Timmy set John down and confidently closed the gap between him and his brother. Tension sparked between their eyes.
What did ‘settle this like adults’ even mean for Klykolians? John wondered.
“TAG, YOU’RE IT!”
Timmy punched Mark in the dick and bolted off down the street into the town.
“COCK SUCKING SUBMISSIVE PRE-STRETCHED GROVELING MOMMY-ISSUES-HAVING INBRED RUNT!” Mark’s profanities could be heard as he disappeared from view, hot on Timmy’s heels.
John slowly turned his head away from the retreating siblings. His gaze locked with the three golden eyes of the not-klykolian soldier who glowered at him. The unbroken eye contact made him feel a little like a mouse trapped in the claws of a tiger, all the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he took a little step back, voice cracking around a nervous, involuntary laugh. Ok Ok, sure he looked pissed but he had been kinda nice to John the last time that he had seen him, maybe- the other man stomped a foot towards him threateningly and flared his cape out. That was the last thing John’s brian processed before switching to “I might die and I really don’t wanna be mentally present for that” mode, and running like he’d never had asthma a day in his life.
+++
“How come you’re always the one that gets to do the fighting?” Keith asked from his position lounging on a broken door.
“Because Timmy will very literally kill you,” Mark answered plainly as he bench pressed the broken door.
Ruth sucked air through her teeth as she jogged on the treadmill. “Harsh words, captain. Sounds like you have no faith in us,”
“Timmy’s the one I have no faith in,” Mark corrected. “When we were kids I watched him resuscitate and re-kill a wild tree jumper five times in a row. Best case scenario, a fight with Timmy leaves you permanently traumatized.”
Jim adjusted his glasses as he set down his dumbbells. “Still, letting us test our skills outside of a familiar environment is critical to expanding our capability. Besides, it’s not like Timmy’s the only punch-able fucker at our disposal,”
“Yeah!” Ruth shouted. “Don’t you wanna be the captain of the team that took down The infamous Dealer?”
Mark grumbled.
“It would be quite the reputation for Klykol to have when Kyle takes us to the U.G.A.,” Charlie chimed in amidst his sit-ups.
Mark grumbled again.
“Damn, I didn’t realize I was captain of a bunch of whiny toddlers who couldn’t sit still,” though his words held no malice. He dropped Keith and the door on the floor behind him and sat up, making a half assed attempt to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
“You’re the one who fakes a bathroom break anytime a meeting takes longer than 30 minutes,” Charlie pointed out. “I seem to recall-“
“You know, as long as Timmy’s not in the picture I don’t care who you fight. If you wanna kill The Dealer and crew knock yourselves out,” Mark answered hurriedly as he reached for his water bottle.
Just then the door to the gym creaked open and Quitain pressed a button on his text to speech device. “Their next arrival will be on the desert planet Ghehalra which isn’t too far from us. If we leave now we can arrive there before them,”
“Do you know what it is they’re looking for?” Luke’s eyes spun with excitement.
Quitain glanced back down to his device and typed out a new sentence. “A ceremonial tea set I believe.”
“WOO!!” Keith screamed. “Let’s go split up their tea shit!”
+++
“Hey, look- I know you don’t like getting stuck with me but could you at least focus on finding this stupid tea cup rather than doing… whatever it is you’re doing?” Rasz’s screen faintly displayed the game of pong he was playing with himself as Eln unhelpfully dug around in the dirt.
They’d been searching for hours now and hadn’t found anything. The metal detector attached to his hands glowed, just as unhelpful as his companion. A desert oasis was a fine place to be stuck searching for a cup in a sand stack, but his internal fan was starting to give him a headache.
*For your information I am collecting samples for-*
Eln’s voice was recorded and played back at a higher pitch. “For your information I am collecting samples for-“
*Why you- insolent floppy drive!* Eln stepped towards Rasz and a loud crack was heard beneath his foot. They both froze.
“Dude I swear to fuck if you broke it-“
*I think what you mean to say is “‘thank you for finding the tea cup Eln! You’re so smart and I am forever in your debt!”* Eln bent down and shuffled the sand apart, his own palm sized metal detector beeping louder as it detected the gold paint. Sand shifted, sifted and fell until the ornate blue tea cup was revealed, nestled in gray hands.
“Привет pussies and posers!”
Keith erupted out of the sand, a one man minefield. A glorious shower of golden sand rained down around him and his grand entrance, sufficiently distracting enough to split kick both men flat on their asses. Before the sand could even settle, Jim rushed in and bagged both men’s heads.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have ambushed them,” Jim mused, pinning Rasz to the ground as Keith cuffed Eln, “It’s hardly a good fight if it’s over this quickly.” He switched Rasz's wrists over to one hand, using all his weight to keep them trapped against the cyborg's back as the other fished around his pockets for the reinforced handcuffs. “But I suppose there’s always the mind battle when we torture you for information-”
The cords on the back of Rasz’s TV head shot out, thrashing wildly and knocking Jim away before he could be cuffed.
“Holy shit, you guys are cocky.” He stood up calmly and brushed the sand off. “Do you seriously think I see through my vintage T.V. Screen?” To prove a point, he left the bag on and pulled a pen from his pocket, drawing a smug grin on its face.
“Blind or not, you’re still a machine,” Jim muttered as he swept his leg, kicking another shower of sand into the air. He rushed the cyborg, dagger at the ready to destroy his joints, but Rasz just wrapped his cords around Jim’s wrist and flung him into Keith.
The two Klykolians fell down behind Eln who casually stood up and brute force ripped his cuffs apart.
*You bastards triggered my Secretion response!* Eln shouted. The bag peeled wetly off his eyeball, nearly adhered to his sclera by the thick slimy substance oozing from his head. The goop successfully kept the sand out of his eye, but also successfully disgusted him into near incoherency. Eln’s whole body convulsed as he gagged at his own biology.
Jim yawned and tried to lounge casually from where he’d landed on top of his comrade, effectively using Keith as a pillow. “My goodness, this is sad. Two nerds who can’t handle a little sand. You’re really out of your element here, aren’t you? That’s good information to keep in mind.” He grinned and adjusted his glasses.
*As though you’re in any better a position to boast,* Eln bit out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith asked, genuinely curious, as he twirled the tea cup around his finger.
“You think we’d spent all that time with Timmy and not learned a thing or six about Klykolians?” Rasz laughed.
Eln held a single finger in the air and proudly dumped his plethora of information. *Despite having no memory of his original life, the markings on Rasz's organic body indicate that he is from a species of xenomorphs known as the Jilhu, who thrive in humid tropical environments. My own body, both primary-” He gestured to his eye, “-And borrowed-” he gestured to the rest of him, “-are also native to warmer climates. This is in contrast to Monroe and Timmy who both demonstrate a higher level of comfortability in cold and even arctic temperatures.”
“We just noticed Timmy gets tired much quicker when it’s hot. Which means on this battlefield we have the advantage of endurance,” Rasz simplified.
Jim stood and wiped the sand off his pants, glancing at Keith with a look of disbelief. “Holy shit we didn’t even have to torture them for information, they’re just telling us their weaknesses.”
Keith laughed and jumped up. “I bet you’re not smart enough to know what is poisonous to you,”
*I will have you know-*
“ELN!!!” Rasz’s antenna sparked angrily.
+++
Arches of sand stretched towards the sky. Towers of compacted sediment that had been slowly carved away over the eons to create epic spires, just one ill-placed bullet away from collapse. The roots of small shrubs amounted to very little in the scheme of holding everything together, and yet for now -as The Dealer stood alone, tech enhanced eyes scanning for the assailant amongst the frigid shadows- everything was still and in one piece.
Judging by how many team members he’d seen in watching the game between Timmy and his brother, the fact that his own team was divided at the moment, and the skirmish that had separated him and Monroe, it was safe to assume they were all being singled out for one on one fights. From his own research he’d learned that Klykolians don’t work well as a team, and when they do form into groups they still prefer to go on their conquests alone and then return to the group only to boast. All in all, it was safe to say they weren’t outnumbered, but he had yet to see the capability of the other soldiers.
The Dealer sighed. His crew had better not make a fool of him.
In their own situation, he’d only seen one body, but Monroe had sensed a sniper and immediately disappeared for higher ground.
“The infamous Dealer,” a smart ass voice sounded as Charlie came around a spire. In his hand was a blue and gold tea cup. “Let’s see-” The Dealer shot at his wrist. Split second reflexes saved Charlie's hand from being blown off as the bullet landed in the spire behind them. “Jesus you’re a trigger happy mother fucker. Thought you were a businessman. I have something you want, and you have something I want, so let’s make a trade,”
Smoke dissipated from the barrel of The Dealer’s pistol as he contemplated his options. He holstered the pistol. “What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing much,” Charlie grinned. “I just want to know more about you. It’s my first time off planet, you see, and I wanted to know what wonders awaited me in space, so I did my research and found you. You’ve built up quite the reputation for yourself- I’m very impressed, even if I find the reports of you having a pet Klykolian distasteful. It is Timmy after all, and in the end he’s little more than a brain dead animal. But you! Overthrowing the top three black market masters, and in such a short time no less. You were seemingly born from the void one day and in no time at all usurped some of the oldest powers in the known universe.”
The Dealer rolled his eyes. His own back-breaking accomplishments were not things he needed reiterated to him. Every day that dared to look at his own skin, his body told the story to him a million times over. And long winded rants like this always ended the same way.
“And yet,” Charlie continued. “No one knows anything about you. I’ve scoured through rumors and gossip, and sure everyone has their theories, but no one knows for sure what you are or what your limits are.” Charlie tossed the cup in the air and caught it nonchalantly. “There’s even a theory that you’re one of us,” he grinned as he tapped his trademark eyes.
“But there’s a few too many accounts of iron based blood for that theory to hold much value,” he laughed to himself, “Though I supposed you could always be a half breed. Lord knows our royal family loved to pump those out. Maybe that’s why you took pity on Timmy.”
“Flowers do not feed the village, you long-winded shitbag. How about you state your trade offer before I decide my time is more valuable than the bullets it would take to shut you up.”
Charlie tsked. “Ah yes, the well documented short fuse. Fine, just one question then. What planet are you from?”
The Dealer paused for a moment. “Millions of people have begged and groveled, manipulated, bargained, and blackmailed me in an attempt to discover the answer to that question," he says, head cocked as he stares at Charlie, "And yet until now no one has been smart enough to do it while dangling a tea cup in front of my face. Your audacity is almost admirable. Almost. You really want to know the answer?" Charlie's eyes spun, trying to predict his next move. The Dealer didn’t give him a chance. “I'm from Planet Kiss-My-Ass, Barg'kta.”
From atop one of the arches Monroe aims down the sight of his rifle and fires off a shot that hits Charlie in the knee, exposing his own location allowing Ruth to fire in retaliation. An AK-47 seemed to materialize from The Dealers feathers and he open-fired vaguely in the direction of Ruth’s shots. Both snipers bolted from their hiding spots as sand started to crumble faster and faster. Arches and spires fell towards the ground as The Dealer continued to lackadaisical waist magazine clips following the blurred form of the sniper.
“YOU’RE NOT EVEN HITTING ME! YOU’RE TOO FAR AWAY!!” Ruth screamed as she ran.
“Hm, and yet you’re still running,”
Charlie leapt out of the way as centuries of sand threatened to bury him. Blue blood spurted on to the ground as he dodged and pain radiated through his entire leg and then it froze. Going from a casual conversation to dead-leg, meant he didn’t even have enough adrenaline in his system to tear his body apart and push through, but with The Dealer and Ruth distracted, maybe he could use his needles.
A small pouch on the side of his leg held a few last resort poison needles, which he’d learned to throw with devastating accuracy. The Dealer continued to focus on Ruth, even as Charlie equipped, aimed and fired.
[Oh hey!] Suddenly Monroe was between them, poison needle caught and fully embedded in his palm. [What is this? Nitrous Oxide?] he joked. [Remember, you’re dealing with aliens now- not all of us have the same body chemistry.]
He gently bonked a flabbergasted Charlie on the head before casually plucking out the needle and giving him a right hook straight into the ground. Not being affected by the poison was mostly a bluff on his part, but the combination of cursed immortality and the natural immunity he’d created due to frequent exposure meant he sure could put on a good show. [I’ll take that.] He yoinked the tea cup and waltzed back over to his partner.
“One would think you get paid hourly with how slow you are,” The Dealer chided as he reloaded.
[And yet last night you had no complaints over how long I took my time with you.]
“Wouldn’t have heard them anyway over the sound of your whorish purring.”
[Maybe let me dom sometime and I can have you scream way louder than-]
“T.A., OneEye!” Charlie called. “Fucking now preferably!”
Monroe tucked the teacup safely away, slung the sniper rifle over the Dealer's shoulder, and took almost lazy aim down the rifle's sight; the Dealer's mask was immobile, but the essence of an eye roll was present- still, he reached up and helped brace the gun, gloved hand wrapped tight around the barrel as Monroe lined up his shot.
"Don't be a baby, Poison! Figure it out!" The Klykolian sniper snarled, gun clutched close as she darted for cover and left her partner behind in the dust.
With nothing left to aim at, Monroe rolled his shoulders in a manner that almost approximated a disappointed sigh, leaning more and more of his weight against the Dealer until the man shoved him and his gun off of him with a shake of his head, shooting the abandoned Klykolian a critical glare before he was deemed injured enough to no longer be a threat.
[Wanna go back on your “I had trading xeno-morphs it’s so inconvenient” policy? This one’s kinda charming, and quite a looker,] Monroe joked, ribbing The Dealer as he holstered his gun, [Plus, I’d love to be able to knock Klykolian off my Fuck-it list.]
“We have Klykolians at home,” The Dealer answered straight as he turned heel and left Charlie to bleed out in the sand.
[Feathers, how could you suggest such a thing?] Monroe signed, interrupting himself to press one hand dramatically to his chest, the other to the cheek of his skull, [That is our horribly disgusting monstrosity carrying more diseases than known to creation and we raised him ourselves!]
“I’m surprised you still have standards.”
[Eh, When I’m sober I do. And we don’t own enough substances to get me fucked up enough to tap that.]
+++
John ran. He'd never been exceptionally good at running, but by god, at least he knew better than to stop; he bolted out of the town and into the desert jungle like he was being chased by satan himself, panting, wheezing, gasping, ignoring the tightness in his chest and the brief flashes of pain as his sweater caught on dead trees and scraggly branches ripped cuts into his arms.
Quitain jogged behind him. The desert jungle just outside of the town did, in fact, have a trail that travelers and merchants used but the poor human boy seemed far too panicked to notice and continued to blaze his own stupid trail.
Off in the distance behind them, Timmy and Mark continued to make a mess of the town. Explosions, cursing, screaming, choking, laughing, and more cursing could be heard even as they continued to put more and more distance between them. A giant portal opened up above Quitain’s head and a cruise ship fell towards the town.
Quitain found himself grateful that his own assigned target had chosen to run in the opposite direction.
Suddenly John found himself trapped, having crashed into a web of vines and branches. He watched, eyes wide with fear and sweat drenching every inch of his body, as Quitain stalked closer. Quitain looked at him disappointedly, glanced up towards the sky as if praying for patience, and then parted the vines for John to escape.
John looked at him bewildered.
Quitain gestured for him to keep running.
John screamed and started running again.
+++
*Could you die any quieter? The sound of your joints grinding together is repulsive,* Eln groaned as his crowbar once again hit sand rather than its intended target. Keith was proving to be annoyingly slippery, somehow evading every hit and still managing to land his own blows. Though his strikes weren’t particularly hard, they cut deep. Clawed hands- infuriatingly quick and sharp as knives- tore into Eln’s stolen body, drawing more and more of his own copper based blood.
“Oh I̸'̵m̶ ̷ s̷̘͆o̷̮̐r̶̭̎r̸̳͛y̶̛̗ ̷͈͠, Your Majesty. Ȋ̷̡͔̺͇͖̿͗͊́͝ didn’t mean to t̷̹̯̬̠̤͍̀̇͂-tṛ̸̋̂̾̒̔̊ḯ̵̹̜̳g̷̲̰͚̈̋͆̐͝g̶̛̗̐̅͌̔è̴̲͂̈͗̉͝ř̶̟͋̅́̐͠ your misophonia,” Rasz’s response was slow and stuttered. He’d since ditched the tough guy act and removed the bag in an attempt to keep himself from overheating. It was times like these that made being sem- inorganic a real pain in the ass; while his biological body hadn’t even broken a sweat, his machinery was going to need serious maintenance after this.
“Hahah! What -huh- happened to that ‘biological advantage’?” Keith panted and wiped his brow for the 437th time. Both he and Jim were drenched in sweat. The soot that gave Keith his feminine hair color was running down his face dramatically, and Jim’s glasses threatened to slip down his face with every movement.
“Shut up! Y̴̤̳͑ò̶̞̱̀û̴͚̮̎̍͆'̶̙̯̯̀ṛ̴̤͋̎͝e̵͇̝̅̎ the ones that are so soaked you could be used as ç̷̡͎͂͛̈̍̾ã̸̻͆r̵ lubricant!”
*Fuck you for that mental image.*
“W̵̥͂h̷̗̔à̴̤t̵̙͒ m̵̝̀e̵̼̍n̷̥̚t̷͎͋a̷̙̐l ï̶͚m̸̰̃a̶̗͐g̴̮̓e?!” Suddenly Rasz’s arms locked up. Everything from the bicep down rendered stiff and useless. “Ah, S̵̤̐ḥ̷͗-shi̴̯͑ţ̸̏-”
Jim reached back into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of rope. “I’ll be so curious to learn if your inorganic limbs can feel pain.”
*Excuse me you fucking Ciliate!* Eln stepped between the two, brandishing his crowbar like an angry mother would a wooden spoon, or sandal, *but no one other than myself is allowed to investigate this body!*
“...Ew,” Rasz cringed as best as his semi imobile body would let him.
“Aliens are a lot more fruity than I expected,” Keith laughed.
“You definitely don’t strike me as the ‘investigating one’s body’ type,” Jim noted, “especially given your distaste for bodily fluids.”
He spit in Eln’s eye.
The whole of Eln’s head turned blue as blood rushed to his face in a rage. *Oh I’ll show you bodily fluid!* In a flash, Eln ripped off his waist confinement.
Keith's eyes spun as the future came to hold one crystal clear probability. “Specs…”
The bandages beneath the corset were swallowed and dissolved by a bear trap of teeth oozing acid from Eln’s now-uncovered stomach.
“Oh h̶͓̒ȅ̸̜l̴̥̀l yeah! We h̸a̴v̴e̷n̵'̴t̷ done this in forever!” Rasz shouted.
“Jim, we gotta go,” Keith mumbled.
Rasz’s cords shot out to grab Eln by the ankles and wrists, his feet dug into the sand as he turned his head and spun around and around, flinging Eln and his acid spitting stomach in a wild circle of destruction. Trees melted, pools of water were poisoned, small previously unnoticed wildlife was fucked up... it was a mess.
Jim and Keith made a break for it. “R-right. New data collected. Next time we will be more adequately prepared,” Jim panted.
“Fuck dude, Luke is going to kill me if I don’t pass uniform inspection again!” Keith cried, trying desperately to avoid the corrosive rain.
The two sweaty subordinates had just sprinted over the hills when Rasz’s neck joint gave out and he gracefully dropped Eln in the sand.
*YOU COULDN’T HAVE COMPLETED THAT WITH A LITTLE MORE TACT?!?! NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH MORE OOZE!!* Eln shouted and his stomach hissed in agreement, but the only sound he got back was the harsh offline beeping from Rasz’s speakers. *Good grief. You really would be dumpster trash without me,* Eln sighed and hoisted the statue of his coworker onto his shoulder.
+++
Mark slammed his way through another wall. Timmy had been leading him around in bitch-ass circles for long enough. What really added insult to injury was how blatantly on purpose it was. If Timmy really didn’t want to fight he could just portal away, but instead he kept portaling just out of reach. Somehow or another the chase had led him out of town, a dry canyon that looked to have been carved by water millions of years ago, taunted him with its dramatically expansive view containing exactly zero percent of his loser brother.
+++
The desert jungle became more and more sparse as John ran. Trees gave way to a steep cliff face and he skidded on his heels as he turned and ran down the edge. Quitain plodded along, almost bored enough to consider humming to himself- held back only by the knowledge that making John bleed from the ears with his voice alone would make this sad game of somewhat-unwilling-cat-and-incredibly-pathetic-mouse even more of a hassle than it already was. Still, even that would have been better than breaking through the treeline only to see Mark in the canyon ahead, yowling like a particularly pissed off mountain lion. Just his luck. Spurred into action, inky hands burst from under his cape and grabbed at John, doing their best to try and corral him away from the furious Klykolian.
John screamed and pulled against the hands. Quitain tried to force his tattoos to reel John in, putting waves of pressure into his grasp, but at such a distance the ink wasn’t strong enough. The human broke through and continued to run blindly until he crashed into Mark’s blind side.
Mark grabbed him reflexively, his grip a handcuff in its own right, and looked at him. John hadn’t produced a single coherent thought in hours and wasn’t about to start now as one of the scariest motherfuckers he’d even met just continued to stare him down.
Mark leaned forward. He tilted his head from side to side, really trying to get a good look at the human he’d previously paid no mind to.
“Why can’t I see you?” he muttered to himself. “You have no past or future, which isn’t… possible…”
“CAPTAIN!!” Mark turned his head to the voices of Jim and Keith from across the cannon, now joined by Ruth. “WE’RE SORRY, YOU WERE RIGHT,” Keith shouted with a barely audible “Hey shut up!” from Ruth.
Mark looked at them blankly. “WHAT?”
Quitain stared wide eyed, cold rushing fear gripped his heart. Leave the human alone. He pleaded internally. He’s innocent and harmless, he doesn’t need to be caught in the crossfire! But for better or for worse, Mark’s grip still held strong on the captive. Maybe if he could produce a covert distraction of some kind? Quitain glanced at the rest of the group across the cavern and quickly fumbled out his text to speech device.
“HEY WHERE IS CHARLIE??!!” The volume had been turned up impossibly loud, and he nearly dropped it with how shocking it was.
“I believe he was with you Ruth. You were supposed to return together,” Jim noted, snobbishly (and sweatily) pushing up his glasses.
“He’s a big boy, he can take care of his damn self!” Ruth crossed her arms and turned away.
Mark’s grip on John fell as he turned his attention towards his troops. “That’s not what being a team means.” His voice was low, but growled with such intensity it carried across the expanse all the same.
“Yeesh, you really fucked up,” Timmy said, leaning on Ruth’s shoulder. All three soldiers flinched at his sudden arrival. “I haven’t seen him this mad since the last time I saw him that mad- HEY!” He snapped his attention towards the other two. “You guys look thorsty. Lemme fix that!”
In the sky above them, as deep as the canyon and somehow even wider, Timmy opened a portal to Neptune.
An unholy waterfall of icy death plummeted towards them, instantly filling up the canyon and destroying any stability the surrounding sand had. The cliff’s edge began to crumble as they all took off running; Timmy delighted in running along the unsteady rocks, dancing with the apocalypse he’d brought in.
+++
From their place safely aboard the mini-ship, Eln and Rasz saw the portal open up. Still unable to move his regular body, Rasz plugged into the ship to view and speak through its equipment.
“Shit, we’d better-” A ping interrupted his sentence, as The Dealer sent his and Monroe’s coordinates with the message: {Beam us up. Now.} “Oh yeah, I forgot I could do that.”
+++
John sat lifeless as the water rushed towards him. He couldn’t run anymore. Even if he could, there was nowhere to run to. This was it. Cold wind clawed at his face as he realized how disproportionately cool this death would be for his sad little life.
His body was a ragdoll to the waves, utterly submissive even when a glowing green light engulfed him and pulled him out of the water. The floor doors of the mini ship closed and John hit the ground with a wet plop.
*Oh great. He’s soggy,* Eln gagged.
“When will my peaceful life return from the war,” John whimpered to himself.
+++
Mark and his soldiers ran as the waters chased them. The sky turned dark as the planet filled with an atmosphere it was never meant to have, animals and civilians ran in tandem but were swallowed up within moments. Unable to keep up, Quitain used his ink arms to make a boat, he might not be able to control where he was going but at least this way he wouldn’t drown.
Through the clouds, Luke brought down their ship- hovering it as close as he could without blasting anyone away. One by one the aquamarine light of his portals pulled everyone back on board. One for Ruth, one for Keith, one for Jim, one for Mark. Quitain held his breath, hoping and praying, but a portal for Charlie never appeared. Luke’s range was only so big, and without knowing where the last soldier was, they couldn’t save him.
Quitain took a breath. His eye tattoos shot out from under his cloak and disappeared off into the storm. He scanned the land as quickly as he could, praying wherever Charlie was, had yet to become seabed. The ship followed alongside him, either to provide front row seats to his drowning or hoping that he would rise up to his duties as their scout. Finally he spotted him. Using his makeshift raft as a springboard, Quitain launched himself towards the fallen soldier.
Charlie lay half buried under one of the fallen spires, trying to dig himself out. Quitain hit the ground next to him and wasted no time in pushing the sand away.
The water had over filled the canyon and was rising around them disturbingly quickly. As soon as Charlie was free Quitain raised his ink hands as high as he could and waved for the ship's attention. Slowly, the gawky ship lumbered its way over and Luke willed himself to make one last portal. Quitain grabbed Charlie and launched them through the portal and safely onto the ship. They were drenched from the waist down, and Charlies makeshift bandages were doing fuck-all to keep him from bleeding, but they were safe.
“Poison!” Keith hugged Charlie, electing a strangled choke out of the taller man, “Don’t scare us like that man!”
“Well well well, at least now we know where our scouts' loyalty lies,” Jim said, nudging Luke who was cradling his head in his hands.
“Just because the pacifist didn’t want to see someone die doesn’t mean we can 100% confirm his loyalty,” Luke groaned.
“And yet,” Mark spat, his predatory gaze locked on Ruth, “the tool has been more helpful than the hand.”
He crowded in her face and she held his gaze even if her tight set lips gave her away. “Individualists are dead weight. Do not become dead weight.”
She took a breath and answered quietly but with dignity.
“Sir, yes sir.”
He held eye contact for a moment more before snarling and turning away.
Quitain was wringing out his rain soaked mask when Mark stepped in front of him. “Good job, Eyes,” He held out a fist and Quitain slowly bumped his own fist against the offered one, like he’d seen the other soldiers do. Mark nodded and left the room without another word.
The sound of Keiths mouth hanging open was disastrously loud in the otherwise silent room.
“Oh my god you got a nickname! You’re a part of the team now!”