Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seven weeks.

It was... Weird, to say the least. It hadn't felt like seven weeks, but that's what it had been. Seven weeks after Lightbulb and Fan escaped... That place. Seven weeks to deal with the losses. Seven weeks to try and bring back their original life.

But they couldn't. It was never that easy.

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Lightbulb lay curled up in her blanket, unable to go back to sleep. Of course she had to have yet another nightmare tonight, she never caught a break, did she? She turned over and, where she would've saw Paintbrush so long ago, she saw Fan lying asleep instead.

She didn't have a problem with him sleeping in the same room, if anything it made her glad that she knew they were still as close as ever after the incident. But... Him taking that bed only confirmed to her each night that Paintbrush was truly gone. Forever. She felt tears begin to well in her eyes, and picked up Baxter to soothe herself. But even that was too much for her, and she began to sob quietly.

Maybe... She should've stayed dead. Maybe then Paintbrush could've lived... Maybe...

Her thoughts were cut short as she heard Fan stir, and he rose slightly to look at her with his eye. His expression softened as he realised how she was feeling, and shuffled closer.

"Hey... One of those nights, huh?"

"Yeah. I just... Miss Painty so, so much. Nothing is the same anymore... Not without them."

Fan sighed, but not in an annoyed way. He too felt the loss this had caused upon them, and he was hurting too.

"Listen... If it's any consolation... We should try to cheer up, or Soap will be giving us three more weeks of therapy sessions!" Fan said, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"I guess you're right. I'm not excited to see what task she has for us today. Is this even getting rid of the trauma?" Lightbulb complained.

Fan chuckled softly.
"Just try and get some sleep, staying up all night won't help you out later today."

"...Got it. Well... Goodnight Fan."

"Goodnight, Lightbulb."

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Later on in the early morning, Fan awoke once more. Damn... He really had to fix his sleeping schedule, didn't he. He picked up his phone, fiddling around with the buttons to try and get it to work the way he wanted it to. He still wasn't used to this model of phone... But there was no way he would be able to keep his last one. Not with the memories it held... Not with who made it... No, that was wrong. Not with what made it. Despite how much it hurt him, he couldn't see that thing as anything but a monster. That was no object, not as far as Fan was aware. He curled up under his blanket and began to play some games.

Maybe he did need Soap's therapy sessions.

Chapter Text

[I. Island Prison Records]

[#73583 Containment Day 49]

[#73583 has been as unresponsive to our attempts to communicate even to this day. We have no doubt they can still speak, they talk to themselves often. They still aren't open to eating yet, and their sleep is unpredictable. They also seem to get agitated at the mention of the number '21'.]

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Sun streamed through the soft orange curtains as the day began, causing Fan to open his eye and stretch. He was still tired, but his sleeping was getting better recently. He looked over at Lightbulb, who was sleeping with Baxter in her arms. He shook her awake gently.

Lightbulb yawned, and smiled slightly when she saw Fan.

"Aw man, I guess we have to get ready earlier." She complained light-heartedly

"Yep, rise and shine Lighty! If today's therapy session goes well, we'll only be..."

Fan counted on his fingers.

"Having one more week of therapy with soap!" He eventually exclaimed.

Lightbulb was pleased at that fact, and she quickly jumped out of bed so she could freshen up to start the day on a good note. She went into the bathroom first, and froze for a second when she saw her reflection. That crack scar... Was still there, as it always was. He spirits dropped for a second, but she convinced herself it was just proof she was strong willed enough to survive.

She was strong willed, wasn't she?

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Two and a half hours later, The pair left Hotel OJ to head to the tent Soap was using as an office. A bit basic in Fan's opinion, but he still thought it was cosy and did its' job well. The two entered the tent, and greeted Soap.

"Oh hi you two! You're just on time, I've got a very special session planned for us today!" Soap proclaimed.

That caught Lightbulb's attention. Maybe it was a trip to the fish food factory?! Or, or a water park!?!

"We're visiting the prison!"

"..." "..."

The colour drained out of Lightbulb and Fan's faces. The... Prison? But that was where..!

"It'll be good for you two, I'm sure. It'll help you come to terms with what happened." Soap explained calmly. She knew they wouldn't be looking forward to it, but it was necessary.

And it looked as if Fan and Lightbulb didn't have a choice, unless they wanted to spend even longer in this tent.

Chapter Text

Fire. Smoke. Is this death?

A singular hoarse voice could barely be heard amongst the roaring, crackling flames.

“No… I don’t want to die… please, somebody, anybody, save me… I’m not done yet… It can’t end like this..!”

When had she lost her footing? When had she stopped feeling the heat? When did everything go black? When was her body carried off? There was no answer to any of these questions, especially not when she could hardly think anymore. She never got answers from them; they would never tell her anything. As such, she no longer responded to them either. The only object she needed was herself. That’s why she only ever spoke to herself, telling herself about her ideas for experiments…

…Experiments she would never get to test. That’s what caused her to spend her days wallowing in despair and hatred. She typically spent each day sat in the corner of her cell, plotting her escape, and how she would enact revenge. In her head, what she was doing— what she had done was right. It was all in the name of science. And since they got in the way of that, it was only natural she wanted to teach them a lesson. Just like how she had taught Subject 3 a lesson, way back then.

Subject 3? That was Fan. He was my Friend.

“No, he wasn’t.” Test Tube snapped.

Wait. Had she just answered her own thought, out loud? She groaned, burying her head in her hands, being careful not to cut herself on the crack that spread across her face. The last thing she needed was for them to think she’d gone mad from the lack of sleep and interaction, That’d just give them satisfaction they didn’t deserve.

She had to get out of here. She felt sicker than ever living purely off an IV, as she refused to eat what they’d give her, paranoid it would be laced with something unpleasant. She also wanted desperately to return to her experiments, and the comfort of her lab… If it was still there…

Chapter Text

“You know, it won’t even be that bad. If you can deal with seeing her again, You know you’ll be ready to move on.”

Soap was comforting Fan and Lightbulb in her tent, getting the nervous pair ready for their trip to visit the prison where… She was.

“And she’ll be behind glass, so she can’t hurt you, okay? The security is very tight too. You have nothing to worry about” She reassured them.

Fan wasn’t convinced that it was a good idea, but there was a small part in him that desired to see that monster again, even if it was to say goodbye for good, sever all connection, or just hurl insults. Lightbulb seemed a bit more optimistic, if you could call it that. She was looking forward to seeing Test Tube on the right side of the glass for once, in a similar position they had been put in for so long. A slight grin formed on her face as she warmed up to the idea. Soap noticed, and she smiled too.

“See, C’mon Fan, even Lightbulb is starting to want to go, you can do it too.”

Soap kneeled down in front of Fan.

“I believe in you.”

And with that, Fan nodded reluctantly, agreeing to see what he had been dreading for so long.

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Test Tube was sat in the corner of her cell again, mumbling equations and chemical ionising techniques under her breath. She hadn’t slept in about three days, and it showed. She looked pale and sick, the dark circles under her eyes were way more prominent than her actual eyes, which were dull and had no life or hope behind them. She barely paid attention to what was going on around her or what her body needed anymore. She didn’t even notice the first time when there was a knock on the glass. The second knock was louder, and she finally looked over. It was one of the guards.

“Hey, get up. You have visitors… surprisingly.” He said, before turning around and opening the door.

She barely mustered up the energy to look over and saw… Was that… Soap? And behind her was Lightbulb and Fan.

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As Lightbulb and Fan walked in behind Soap, They immediately recognised the figure in the corner of the room beyond the glass as their former Ally, Friend, And then Tormenter. Lightbulb scanned her eyes over Test Tube and mentally noted that she looked like she could pass out any second yet. So, it was to her surprise when Test Tube stood up and walked over.

“Well, It’s lovely to have visitors…”

And there was that voice. It was enough to send chills down both Fan and Lightbulb’s backs.

“Subject 1 and 3, how are you doing these days..?” Test Tube mused, her dead eyes drifting over Lightbulb’s crack scar, and Fan’s tear.

“Don’t call us that. We’re not under your control anymore.” Lightbulb jeered.

But Test Tube wasn’t threatened. In fact, she just smirked a little, the movement causing the crack on her face to spread just by an inch, but that was enough to make Fan flinch and hide behind Soap.

“Well, now that you’re here, I can finally see how my experiment changed you. Ah, if only I could make notes.”

That wistful tone of hers made the pair, as well as Soap, feel sick to their stomachs. Soap put a protective arm around Fan, glaring at Test Tube, who still wasn’t fazed. Lightbulb took a step closer to the glass that separated them.

“And you haven’t changed one bit. Not for the better at least. You certainly changed from the Test Tube we knew as a friend to… to… A monster.”

Test Tube raised an eyebrow. “A monster you say? It’s clear you don’t understand me, understand the importance of the experiment, I’m a scientist, and I—”

“A SCIENTIST WOULDN’T KILL SOMEONE FOR RESEARCH!” Lightbulb suddenly shouted, her voice cracking as she held back tears.

“BECAUSE OF YOU, MARSH, APPLE AND PAINTY ARE DEAD.”

Test Tube scoffed. “Please, I didn’t kill Subject 4. And I certainly didn’t kill Subject 5. That was all your doing,”

That was it for Lightbulb. She started to cry and scream at Test Tube, while slamming her hand on the glass. Oh, how she wanted to tear that monster apart.

“YOU TRAPPED US IN THE ROOM! YOU CAUSED US TO FIGHT! YOU DIDN’T GIVE US… ACTUAL FOOD! YOU SEVERELY INJURED FAN, AND YOU, AND ONLY YOU, KILLED PAINTY.” She screamed as her voice wavered because of her crying.

She calmed herself down a little before she continued. “You should’ve died in that fire. I don’t know why they saved you. Maybe they thought you would be able to have a second chance, maybe they just wanted justice… But now that you’re locked up in here, Personally…”

“… I think you should rot here and never see the daylight again.”

Those words caused Test Tube’s calm expression to falter a bit. Had she truly made a mistake with this whole thing? No, No, She worked on that for over a year. It had been worth it. They were all just blind, this was no mistake. Everything she did…It was worth something.

She watched as Soap ushered the aggravated Lightbulb out of the room. And Fan nervously followed behind. She was alone once again. That was fine, she liked being alone. She had herself. She sat back in the corner and went back to mumbling to herself.

She’d be outside soon.

She’d be free soon.

She’d continue her experiment soon.

Chapter Text

[I. Island Prison Records]

[#73583 Containment Day 53]

[ After #73583’s visitors four days ago, they have become even less responsive, seemingly lost in thought most of the time, and aggravation is shown when we attempt to communicate more. They no longer resist when we give them an IV, as they are still not eating.]

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Mic tapped her fingers idly on the counter. Another quiet day in the shop… The only customers she had so far was Cheesy, who made a really bad joke when purchasing some chicken, and Taco, who took a box of teabags and left the money on the counter without saying a word. How boring. But wasn’t this what she had wanted? For everything to go back to the calmness and normality from after the contest finished? Sure, it was back to being calm… but it sill wasn’t normal. Not without them.

Mic sighed and leaned back in her chair. She’d been on such a long shift that she’d heard the same song three times on the radio. She should just quit this stupid job already. It was mundane, she wasn’t paid that much, and quite frankly, she had come to dread talking to people every day. Who knew what they were up to when they went home? How any more shady pastimes had she so obliviously ignored, when the signs were so clear?

She tapped the counter a little bit faster.

Was she responsible every time she let someone leave the shop without knowing what they were planning? Were the things she was selling going to help lead to someone’s death? What if they already had? Was she really that oblivious? Even though she and Taco were back on good terms, there was no denying she had been blindsided by her in the past. And the same had happened with Test Tube, someone she thought she could’ve trusted. No, someone she had trusted. That’s why she had never questioned why she had been gone for months on end before randomly showing up, needing to buy a lot of stuff. How many people had she been fooled by? How many more?

She was pulled out of the spiralling vortex of thoughts by the light ringing of the bell above the shop’s doorway. She looked up and saw Pickle walk in. He was on a video call with someone and was showing them the stuff for sale using the camera.

“So, you can have chocolate ice cream or vanilla.” Pickle said as he brought the camera up to the fridge.

“What? No mint?!” the voice from the phone replied. “Fiinnneee… we can have vanilla.”

Pickle picked up the tub of vanilla ice cream. “And is that all you want?”

“Get some Doritos too.”

“Spicy ones, I’m guessing?” Pickle inquired.

“You know me too well. Now hurry up!” The voice from the phone said before they hung up.

Pickle found the Doritos an put them on the counter alongside the tub of ice cream. Mic scanned the items. She relaxed a bit. She knew there was no way in hell these items could be used for anything bad, right?

“That’ll be… $2.60 please.” Mic told Pickle, a small smile on her face.

Pickle handed over $10. “You can keep the extra. I know retail doesn’t pay the best.”

“Thank you!” Mic quickly responded as Pickle began to leave. “I… I really appreciate it!”

She looked down at the money in her hand and smiled once more. Maybe she’d keep this job.

Chapter Text

[I. Island Prison Records]

[#73583 Containment Day 61]

[#73583’s mental health has been deteriorating. They talk to themselves more often now, we are not sure whether this is them attempting to maintain their sanity, or a sign they have already lost it. We will keep a closer eye on them.]

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Lightbulb ran. She looked down at her hands, which were shaking uncontrollably, and with every step she took, she heard the floor squish beneath her feet, a sound she knew all too well. She shouldn’t be back here, yet here she was, Watching fires beyond doorways, the scent of burnt sugar filling the air. She covered her face with her hand and kept running. The fires behind each door began to fade away, and she finally opened her eyes again, seeing… no, it couldn’t be…

Apple?

But she was dead, and it was all Lightbulb’s fault, and she should’ve stopped herself, and—

Apple slowly approached Lightbulb, and the only words Lightbulb could squeak out was;

“Cómo estás vivo?”

Ah, so she could only speak Spanish again. Great. Apple seemed to understand nevertheless, simply placing her hand on Lightbulb’s shoulder. Lightbulb calmed down a little, looked up at Apple… only to see a large chunk of her previous friend missing, oozing apple juice down her arm. The grip Apple’s hand had on Lightbulb’s shoulder grew tighter and tighter, a bit of blood beginning to trickle towards the floor. Lightbulb stared at the sentient remains of what had used to be her friend and spoke again.

“¿Por qué sigo vivo? Debería volver a donde se suponía que debía quedarme...”

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was back in that room. That dreaded room, that hated, despised room. She was kneeling in the centre, a singular black container in front of her. She looked to her left and saw Fan, who was still torn and in pain. She looked to her right. There was Painty, who was smiling at her as they moved closer. Lightbulb looked back at the black bottle. Back at the tormented Fan. Back at Painty, whose blood decorated the floor a new red hue. Back at the bottle. Back at Fan, who she couldn’t protect. Back at Marshmallow, who she drove to attempted murder. Back to Apple, who she killed. Back to Paintbrush, who lay on the floor in half. Back to the bottle.

She picked it up. This time… Nobody could stop her. She took off the lid, and poured the contents into her hand.

And she brought her hand up to her mouth

And she swallowed

And she looked back at the bottle

And she looked at M4r5H

And she looked at Ap?P1E

And she looked at Fan

And she looked at PA!n+BrU£7

And she looked at Herself

And she closed her eyes

And she looked at H3r5E<f

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Lightbulb awoke from her sleep with a sudden gasp. She clutched her pillow close to her chest, breathing heavily.

Calm down, it was just a nightmare… just a nightmare…

She slowed her breathing down, sliding out of her bed and quietly making her way to the bathroom, being careful not to wake Fan. She turned on the light and looked at herself in the mirror. She was here. She was okay. She was alive. She still had to stay; Fan needed her. If she was… gone, she’d only be causing Fan more issues.

She quickly splashed herself with some water, calming herself down. She saw Baxter enter through the doorway. Yeah, Baxter needed her too. She knelt down, and picked him up. She then turned the light off again and lay back down in her bed, still cuddling Baxter.

She would continue for now. For Fan and Baxter.

Chapter Text

[I. Island Prison Records]

[#73583 Containment Day 65]

[#73583 slept for the entirety of today. They clearly needed it; they hadn’t slept for about 3 days straight. We have considered giving them some medication to help with what we believe is a growing insomnia, but we believe they may refuse to take it and become hostile again.]

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Purgatory Mansion was quiet. But that was the usual these days, what with Apple and Marshmallow gone. Now it was just Bow, Dough and Knife, but sometimes Pickle came round to watch movies or hang out with Knife.

Bow wasn’t herself. While she used to annoy Dough and Knife often to cure her own boredom, she didn’t feel like doing that anymore. She didn’t feel like doing, well, anything. She either spent each day floating around without a thought in her head, or she’d spend the day imagining what life could’ve been like if Marsh and Apple were still there with her. They could spend hours drawing, posting random stuff on Bow’s phone, pranking Knife and Pickle, or even just talk. She wanted to go back to that time.

It was on this particular day that she was lost in her imagination, when Knife started clicking his fingers in front of her to grab her attention.

“Hey, pinkdiot, are you listening?” He asked, waving his hand in front of her face since the finger-clicking method didn’t work.

Bow finally realised he was there and flinched as she snapped out of her trance.

“Oh… Hey Knife.” She mumbled, not making eye contact with him. She was upset about being snapped out of her daydream, she had been imagining that her and her two long-gone friends were having a picnic together. If she looked at him, she might’ve cried.

Knife shifted awkwardly; he could tell that she wasn’t doing okay.

“Well… Me and Pickle are having a movie night tonight. So… Don’t annoy us.” He instructed, but his tone was uncertain.

“Sure…” Bow agreed half-heartedly.

Knife sighed.

It’s not like her to be this down. I should do something to cheer her up.

To Bow’s surprise, Knife placed his hand on her head affectionately.

“You know, if you really wanted, you could come join us. I asked Pickle to get vanilla ice cream, and I know you like that, right?” He said softly.

Bow looked up, her eyes a little wide. Was Knife actually… offering to spend time with her? A small smile creeped onto her face and her eyes brightened a bit.

“Can we watch a musical?”

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After a good few hours of movie-watching, joke-making, and overall having an enjoyable time, Bow and Knife bid Pickle goodbye as he returned to Hotel OJ. Bow had actually forgotten about Marsh and Apple for a while, and it strangely made her feel better. Knife was pleased too, he felt a lot more relaxed seeing Bow act like she used to. Obnoxious, yes, but herself.

Eventually, after another half hour of idle chat between the two (with Dough joining in momentarily to tell them about his new obsession with lairs), they said goodnight. Knife returned to his room, quickly falling asleep, but for Bow it took a little longer.

She wished it could’ve been different. She wished that, even if Marsh and Apple absolutely had to die, they could’ve been ghosts just like her. Then they could’ve hung out forever in Purgatory Mansion. She knew that was impossible, she’d interrogated asked nicely MePhone4 why he couldn’t bring them back. The answer was simple. They were too far underground. It was a similar concept to why Fan couldn’t call for help, no signal. So when they died, MePhone4 never received the notification, so they couldn’t be brought back. Not even as ghosts, since they didn’t even make it into the MeAfterlife. They were just gone. Permanently.

Bow curled up further under her blanket, and drifted off to sleep, wondering if anything could’ve been different.

Chapter Text

[I. Island Prison Records]

[#73583 Containment Day 71]

[Wait… what am I supposed to write in here?]

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The intern stared blankly at the screen. It was simple. He just had to write… whatever was going on with Tes- no, not Test Tube, as he reminded himself. #73583. That was the name on the documents for the past 70 days, and that would be the one he would use today. He glanced at the two-way mirror that allowed him to see into the cell where #73583 was being kept. She wasn’t doing anything, as usual. It kind of hurt the intern to see her like that. But he pushed that thought aside and focused on the task at hand. The containment log. He still didn’t know what to write… nor how to, really. Even the first few words were a struggle, and that was just him needlessly asking the log a rhetorical question about how to do his job properly.

He glanced over at the door as it opened.

“Oh, Hello Lifering!” The intern chirped, clearly happy to see who had just walked through the door.

“Hello Goo. Oh, erm, I mean, Intern. Hello intern. We have to use work titles here. The same goes for you.” Lifering said as he stood next to Goo.

“Hrm… my bad.” Said Goo. “Say… would you be able to type up this containment log for me, please? It’s kind of hard when you don’t have arms.”

Lifering chuckled, looking at the empty log on the screen. “Sure, I don’t mind at all. But you still have to tell me what you want me to write, got it?”

Goo nodded (As best as he could) and looked at the cell again.

“Okay, here goes.”

Lifering began to type as Goo spoke.

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[#73583 has not moved much today, or done much, and they definitely haven’t said anything. It must be quite boring in there, but that’s what they deserve.]

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Lifering stopped typing as Goo went silent.

“I’m all outta ideas… but that was good, right?” Goo inquired as he turned to face Lifering once more.

Lifering smiled at the curious expression Goo had. “Yep, great for your first time. Now how about we take a break from work and go get some lunch?”

This idea seemed very appealing to Goo.

“Yeah! Could we bring some back for… Her? I know she hasn’t been eating much, but I wouldn’t blame her with the stuff that they try to serve. It’s like… Grey sludge. Doesn’t seem very appetising.” Goo asked Lifering as he slid off the chair.

“I suppose we can, but we can’t tell anyone, alright? I don’t want to get in trouble with the higher-ups.” Lifering said, once again opening the door and leading his blue friend out.

“Yay!”

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About an hour or so later, Goo returned to the station, carrying a bag of Chinese takeaway on his back. He unlocked the door to the cell that she was in and placed the bag on the floor.

“Um… Hey. I brought you some different food… it’s curry! I’ll… I’ll be back in a bit to collect the bag… I hope you enjoy!” Goo said as he looked over at Test Tube who was, as always, sitting in the corner with a blank and tired expression, almost sickly. Goo felt bad, but he had work to do. He wasn’t supposed to stay here. He turned around and closed the door, before leaving to get back to work elsewhere.

And for the first time in a while, Test Tube looked at the door and cracked a small smile.

But it wasn’t because of the curry.

Chapter Text

[I. Island Prison Records]

[#73583 Containment Day 71]

[#73583 is gone.]

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Candle was meditating in her room of Hotel OJ, when she suddenly heard a frantic knock at the door. She opened her eyes to see a piece of paper being slid under her door. She stood up, walked over, and picked it up, mumbling the words quietly to herself as she read it.

“Please meet downstairs at 11pm. This is urgent, and please do not inform Lightbulb or Fan of this meeting. They are being kept busy by Paper...”

 She read out loud, trailing off at the end. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. Her usual calm demeanour slowly slipped away from her as a feeling of dread started pooling within her mind.

If this concerned both Lightbulb and Fan… It could only mean one thing.

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11pm.

Most of the residents of Hotel OJ were gathered in the reception area, the exceptions being Paper, Lightbulb and Fan, obviously. But strangely… Goo wasn’t there either. There was hushed murmuring between the objects, but it quickly died down when OJ stood on top of the reception desk and cleared his throat.

“Ahem. I have… some bad news, everyone. It has come to my attention that… Test Tube somehow escaped from her confinement.”

The chattering started up again, this time louder and more worriedly.

“Quiet, quiet. I know it’s frightening… but Lifering has been keeping me updated on her condition. He told me it was unlikely she had the strength to do anything as of now. Though, I’d recommend exercising caution, just in case—”

“Yeah, we get it.” OJ was suddenly cut off by Taco, who was looking clearly bored. Mic nudged her, silently giving Taco the ‘don’t be rude’ look. Taco simply rolled her eyes as OJ quickly wrapped up his speech.

“Yes, I suppose we should be finishing this up, shouldn’t we…” OJ sighed, a look of dread slowly washing over his face, like he was watching a sickening storm beginning to brew. “Nobody tells Lightbulb or Fan about this. We’re forming a search party to look for Test Tube… After all, she has to be somewhere on this island. If you’re interested… Speak to me after the meeting is adjourned. You can all leave now. Sleep well. And don’t go outside at night unless it is absolutely necessary.”

A low buzz of chatter oscillated throughout the room, but slowly died down as the tenants of the hotel returned to their respective rooms. Mic and Taco had gone to the kitchen, as Mic helped  Taco (who could not reach the cabinets) to make some tea before they went to sleep.

“What type of tea do you want tonight, Taco?” Mic asked, while beginning to boil some water.

“Regular. One sugar.”

“What’s on your mind, Taco?”

“How did you--?” Taco looked genuinely surprised as Mic pointed out how she was deep in thought.

“You always ask for regular tea with one sugar when you’re thinking about something. Soooo… what is it?” Mic questioned, stirring Taco’s tea.

Taco shifted on the spot momentarily, before giving in. Mic wouldn’t let up if she didn’t respond, anyway.

“Test Tube.”

Mic paused her stirring, looking at Taco warily.

“Taco… Don’t tell me you’re—”

“Going out to find her.” Taco sighed, looking up at Mic with a determination that Mic hadn’t seen since the days of the competition.

“Can’t you at least go with the search party? Please? I want you to be safe…” Mic pleaded, handing Taco her tea.

Taco scoffed, sipping her tea.

“With those fools? I’d rather get caught by Test Tube herself.”

Mic groaned, facepalming.

“Fine. You don’t have to go with them. But if you must go look… I’ll come with you.”

Taco finished her tea, handing it back to Mic, who put it on the counter.

“Sleep well, Mic.”

“You too, Taco.”