Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

 

All that he could hear was heavy breathing. Something screamed at him in his mind, telling him to run, that it was no longer safe here. He couldn't even see what it was. His eyes refused to focus on the shape, almost as if his mind didn't want him to know what it was. He felt his heels dig into the soft earth below him. His ears start to ring. Frozen in place, whatever that thing was just kept inching closer to him. He needed to run. He had to. But he couldn't. Whatever this was, it wasn't an object, and it certainly couldn't be alive. He thinks he sees hands… or tendrils… some kind of bodily limb… or not. It gets closer, and closer, inching towards him. His own breathing gets quicker and quicker until-

 

“TROPHY!” He jolted awake. 

 

Putting his face in his hands, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He feels stiff.

 

“Get out of bed! Are you sick? Injured? What is taking you so long?!” He hears Tea Kettle outside his room. 

 

“Ughhh just a second, Mom,” he replies, his words dripping in sarcasm. “Just missed my stupid alarm.”

 

Trophy gets out of bed, stretching out. He feels his joints pop from being stiff. Man, how long did he sleep in?

 

“Now, you troublemaker, you better open up this door before I count to three!”

 

Trophy groans, walking to the door.

 

“One-”

 

Trophy opens the door with a slam. “It's unlocked. Tissues leaves it unlocked in the case of emergency. Every single day, and every single night. You know this by now.” He says, stone faced.

 

He peers behind Tea Kettle, seeing Paintbrush and the rest of the object safety crew.

 

“Ugh- You have GOT to be kidding me, why did you call the fun police on me sleeping in by accident???” Trophy groans.

 

“You weren't here this morning at-”

 

“I AM AN ADULT MAN!!! I CAN HANDLE MYSELF!!! I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!!!”

 

“Hey, hey! Watch it!” Paintbrush wedges themself between Trophy and Tea Kettle. “Trophy, when do you usually get up?” They ask, turning to him.

 

“Pft. At 6am, for my morning jog.”

 

“Well its currently 2pm.” Paintbrush replies flatly.

 

Trophy jolts, realizing the situation. “What- what do you MEAN I was- asleep for almost an entire day????”

 

“I only called them over when someone offhandedly mentioned they didn't see you today, and I realized I hadn't seen you either…” Tea Kettle said, scratching behind her handle.

 

“I doubt this is anything serious, but as you are still rooming with Tissues, you might be sick.” Paintbrush averts the topic. “We will still have to take you to the medical wing to have you assessed.”

 

“Agh- but- hrmph. Fine.” Trophy looks away, crossing his arms. “I thought I'd  be immune by now but whatever.”

 

…

 

Trophy looks annoyed as he's wheeled in by Paintbrush. “My legs aren't broken.” He grumbles.

 

“You may still be a falling risk.”

 

“I don't feel THAT bad, I could have walked here just fine!”

 

“Yes, but it is standard protocol that-”

 

“I'll be dealing with him now, thank you.” Candle says, as if she appeared from thin air.

 

The two jolt, not having anticipated her to be there. “Welp ok I'm out, have fun, don't break anything.” Paintbrush says, turning and leaving.

 

“I- hey! We weren't finished talking!” Trophy exclaims, turning to see that Paintbrush is already out the door.

 

“And it is clear they do not wish to speak with you.” Candle says, taking the handles of the wheelchair.

 

Trophy grumbles. “I don't understand why h- they think I'm incapable of handling myself.”

 

“They don't think that.” Candle pushes the wheelchair.

 

“Oh really? Why are they so insistent that I be helped then?”

 

“Because they feel the need to provide a helping hand to you. This doesn't mean they see you as any lesser than another person.”

 

Trophy grumbles. “I just- I don't get it. Only weak objects need help.”

 

“Incorrect.” Candle wheels him into an office. “I have met many strong objects who have needed assistance.”

 

“Yes but that's because you're here all the time! They’re weak when they’re injured!”

 

“Negatory.” Candle closes the office door. “While it is true physical injury can harm oneself, it is also injuries of the mind that can harm them. This isn't a sign of weakness, this is simply just the way they were made.”

 

The two look at each other for quite some time.

 

“The way Mephone made them…” Trophy mumbles.

 

Candle sighs, getting out some medical equipment. “You know, if it weren't for Tea Kettle, nobody would have thought to help you.”

 

“Good! Because I don't need help!”

 

“This isn't a good thing, Trophy.” Candle puts a thermometer against his forehead.

 

“Well why not?!”

 

“It means nobody here cares about you.”

 

The room goes eerily quiet.

 

The thermometer beeps. “Temperature reading is normal.” Candle writes a note down on a clipboard.

 

The rest of the tests are done in an uncomfortable silence.

 

He just didn’t understand. Others not caring about him is good- great even! It means that he will have no burdens that’ll just drag him down. 

But, if nobody cares about him- then- does that mean, all this time, this image that he’s been making for others- is useless? That really, nobody sees him as strong, or a force to be reckoned with, at all? What do they see him as, then? Just another one of Mephone’s stereotypes?

 

Finishing reflexes, Candle sighs again, making notes.

 

“So… Did I pass or whatever?” Trophy asks.

 

“Your blood pressure is higher than normal. That isn't a good thing, as you are completely at rest physically.” Candle says.

 

“Well-” Trophy bites his tongue, deciding not to tell her about the dream he had.

 

“Hm?” Candle tilts towards him, her flame flickering.

 

“It's- nothing.”

 

“Are you sure?” Candle asked.

 

“You already said that people don't care about me. So why would you?” Trophy looks away.

 

“I feel… for you. You have the potential to be a great person if you just tried- and yet, you take every chance to improve yourself, and throw it away.” Candle sits on a stool, rolling up beside him. “I want to see you improve.”

 

Trophy glances back at her before looking away again. “I had this- dream.”

 

“A dream?”

 

“Yes, don't- it's probably just- something stupid. Please don't laugh.”

 

“Alright, I will not." Candle assures. "What was this dream about, then?”

 

Trophy scratches his chin. “I was… in this hallway. It was dark, really dark, and I was looking for a way out.” Trophy says, struggling to remember the events. “I- don't know how long it was- I don't remember how long it was- but eventually I got to this dimly lit room. I- the ground was dirt, and there was this… thing.”

 

Candle taps her chin with her pen. “What sort of thing?”

 

“I. Try to look at it but my eyes can't- see it- but it's there- I can see it but. I can't.” Trophy gestures with his hands to provide exaggeration. “It's like I can see it but my eyes can't decide what it is and it's just this- shifting mass of a shape and colors.”

 

“You see it, but your eyes can't focus on what it's seeing?”

 

“Yes, and- everything in my right mind is telling me- in the dream- that whatever it was, it just- isn't good. I want to turn tail and leave, but I'm frozen in place, unable to move, and this- this thing it just-” Trophy starts to hyperventilate. “It's moving towards me and- and-”

 

“Deep breaths.” Candle puts a hand on his shoulder. Trophy jolts from the sudden movement. “It's not happening right now. It isn't here. You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

 

“Right,” Trophy takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Right.”

 

“It is clear you're under some kind of mental stress.” Candle sets aside the clipboard. “Many people will have nightmares when things in the waking world stress them out.”

 

“But- what could I possibly be stressed about?” Trophy asked.

 

“Sometimes some people don’t realize they are stressed, or choose not to believe that they are.” Candle replies. She picks up the clipboard, flipping a couple papers. “Usually others would want you to stay here overnight in the case of ‘dire conditions’. I do not believe you are physically sick or otherwise. Therefore, I will instead be requesting you room with me for a while.”

 

“I-” Trophy pauses before immediately rejecting her offer. He has always wanted to get out of Tissues’ room, but has never found a worthy excuse for it. “...Alright, I’ll do it.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:

 

Trophy knocked on Candle's room door. She lived on the first floor, close to the recently constructed library addition to the hotel. It had originally been a utility storage room, but they moved that equipment into a garage instead to make more room, hence why Trophy was greeted with a concrete floor as Candle opened the door. 

 

“Hm. You followed through.” Candle said, pleasantly surprised.

 

Trophy gripped his arm, sighing. “Yeah, they kept on bugging me that if I didn't, I'd have to stay with Salt all night. That and…” Trophy trailed off.

 

“And what?” Candle moved out of the way so he could step inside.

 

“Tissues, while not intentionally annoying, and minus his- you know. Isn't a greaaat fit for me as a roommate. He deserves someone… better. More capable…” What was he saying? What about Candle made him feel more comfortable to actually speak his mind? He wasn't supposed to give in like this. “...that and. If I am getting sick from him constantly enough to cause this maybe I should just. Switch rooms.” He stepped inside.

 

“I see.” Candle replied, closing the door.

 

Despite originally being a storage room, Candle has decorated the place to make it feel so much more comfortable and cozy. Between the tapestries hung on the walls and the rugs, to the cushions and warm but dim lighting, you wouldn't have guessed the room was originally a hollow concrete brick of a place.

 

Trophy looked to the spare bed. Candle probably received the bedframe from Paintbrush, back when they were in their woodworking fixation. The mattress was likely supplied by Test Tube, who was the only one to figure out how to make them at first, and the bedding was likely sourced from handouts Salt and Pepper did when they moved into the medical wing. Either that or it was woven fabric from either Paintbrush, again, or someone else crafty. 

 

More likely the latter. Trophy couldn't imagine Salt and Pep's taste would be that gaudy, though he has been proven wrong before.

 

Most of the place was donned in earth and jewel tones, but the spare bed sported a mustard yellow comforter with autumn toned throw blankets, all with their own patterns. It wasn't that girly, but not that masculine either. He was fine with this. Better than nothing.

 

He set his bag down near the end of the bed, lying down on it. He had to deliver some stuff to the kitchen, but his shift got cut short when Paintbrush caught him there again, and told him that he should be resting. Tea Kettle proceeded to let him off the hook for the next week, which made him pissed, cause now he has no clue what to do.

 

He looked to Candle, who was at her end, reading a book. He looked at her flame and suddenly realized; was it safe for her to have this many flammables?

 

“How do you like. Not burn this place down?” He asks.

 

Candle chuckles, looking up from her book. “I often talk about controlling one's inner flame, but I do assure you I have complete control over my outer flame as well. Fan calls it pyrokenisis, but it's only limited to the fire I produce.”

 

“So you just. Don't let it burn things?”

 

“I choose when it burns other things, and when it doesn't. At rest, the flame dims to an ember, but doesn't go out. At least that's what people tell me.”

 

Trophy's impressed that this commune just, casually, has people who have literal superpowers, whilst others struggle to not cough out their lungs. Then again he probably spends too much time with Tissues.

 

“Huh. Interesting.”

 

“Is there anything else you'd like to know? We haven't spoken much, and I doubt you watched Season 3 when it aired.” Candle asks, closing her book and setting it aside.

 

“Bits and pieces, but I got… bored.” Trophy looked away. He was still bitter HE didn't get to be in the season with the PHOTOGRAPHY challenge. “Who did you end up befriending most out of like. All of them, though?”

 

“Yin-Yang, and Cabby.” She replied. “Despite their loudness, Yin-Yang's probably one of the most likeable duos I've met.”

 

“Duos?” Trophy asks, a bit confused. 

 

“They are two people, sharing one body. I respect each of them individually.”

 

Trophy slowly realizes just exactly how much disconnect he has with other people. There's an entire world here, and yet he's closed himself off completely. He's got a sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, this isn't a good thing.

 

“I didn't know that… huh. I guess that makes more sense.”

 

Candle lets out a small giggle, her flame bouncing with her.

 

Trophy blushes in embarrassment, looking away. “Yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up.”

 

“You're an interesting one, aren't you?”

 

Trophy pauses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You seem to constantly push others away, as if you don't care about them, but then you have moments like these.” Candle replies. “Is it that you truly do care, but are afraid to show it?”

 

“Are you always this pathologizing?” Trophy tries to avert the topic.

 

“I simply care about you.”

 

“You don't know that!” Trophy spat. “You barely know me.”

 

“Which is why I want to get to know you better.”

 

Trophy turns away from Candle, facing the wall. He hears a sigh from her. What is her deal? She says nobody cares about him, and then implies that she does. What does she see in him? Something he doesn't? Something he can't?

 

“Goodnight, Trophy.” Candle says, laying down to rest.

 

There's a long, empty pause.

 

“Goodnight, Candle.”

 

~~

 

Trophy finds himself in a dream. He’s at the edge of the nearby lake, looking into the water. He doesn’t know why he’s lucid, at this moment. There were things happening before this, but he didn’t remember them. He looks up at the sky, which has turned a pale yellow. Whiter, puffy clouds dotted along it as the sun started to set in the far distance. He looks back to the water.

The still water is almost mirror-like to the sky and the surrounding foliage. Almost. Oil, or what seems like oil, is on the surface of it, glimmering, greasy, like the most beautiful rainbow coming from the worst possible place. It’s strangely frothy, and bubbly, distorting the reflection. What’s... Causing that? He pans up to the rest of the lake, looking around. There isn't anything that sticks out at first, until Trophy sees crows fly to peck at something inside the reeds on the other side of the lake. Strange. He didn’t know crows lived here.

 

What was he thinking? This is a dream. Not real! But it feels real. But it’s a dream. Ugh! Screw it.

 

Trophy starts to walk along the lakebed to go towards the reeds, but he trips and falls forward on a root from a tree nearby. He rolls and splashes into the water, which seems to want to tug him in. He pulls himself upright, the water pulling his feet lower into the lakebed. He turns around, right across from the reeds. He can’t see it clearly, but he doesn’t need to. There's a flash of pink in the reeds.

 

“What the fuck kind of messed up dream is this…” Trophy starts to run around the lakebed, but the water seems to drag on him, pulling him down, making him feel like he’s going slower and slower, until he just, stops.

 

It’s a dream, just a dream, what do you do in dreams to make sure it’s a dream again? He punches himself in the-

 

~~

 

Trophy jolts awake. He looks to the door, where Candle is coming inside. The two make eye contact.

 

“Are you-”

 

“Another stupid- nightmare.” Trophy stomps the ground as he gets out of bed.

 

He goes to get out of the room, but Candle stops him. “Calm down.” Her flame flares upwards.

 

Trophy takes deep breath in, then exhales, frustrated. Candle hands him a salmon locks bagel. He takes it. “...Thanks…”

 

“OJ told me it was the one option you consistently ordered back when the hotel did food delivery. So when the restaurant started offering it, I picked it up for you.” Her flame resumes to being normal once more.

 

Trophy sat back down on his- the spare bed. Candle hands him a napkin and he takes it as he eats. He watches her set her coffee down on her nightstand before getting down to a mat and stretching. She was correct about the salmon locks on a bagel being his preferred breakfast food. Maybe that’s why a lot of yesterday’s shipment smelled fishier. Thankfully it was just the boxes that smelled that way; the salmon itself tasted fine.

 

“I presume you’re taking it slow to not mess with what may potentially be may or may not be a disease?” Candle’s question catches him off guard.

 

Trophy raises a finger, coughing a bit, then chewing and swallowing. “Not intentionally but, now that you mention it, probably a better idea.” He looks around, not finding a clock. “What time is it?”

 

“9 am.”

 

“Gotcha.” Phew. Much better than 2pm. He hopes he never sleeps in that long ever again. “...Thanks. Again. By the way.”

 

“No problem.” Candle says with a smile. She gets up from her stretches and takes a sip of her coffee, looking at her phone, scrolling it.

 

Trophy continues to eat, almost finishing it.

 

“Soap and some others are heading out to the lake right now. I may join them later.”

 

Trophy freezes. He swallows his last bite, painfully. “Soap?”

 

“She’s talking about things that need to be cleaned up nearby there.” she pauses. “Are… you two close at all?” She sees Trophy, blankly staring at the floor.

 

“Um. No I just. Thought I misheard you.” Trophy regains himself. It’s probably just a stupid coincidence. But what if it’s not? What if it’s not a coincidence? “I could probably take some cool photos while we’re there, though.”

 

Candle finds this behavior odd. She’s never seen an object do that, not since…

She nods, however, happy he’s joining her instead of further alienating himself.

 

~~

 

Trophy is hoping on a whim that he’s wrong. That whatever happens, it isn’t what that stupid dream predicted it would be. That-

 

“Hi Trophy!”

 

“AGH!” He jolts back. Opening an eye, he realizes; it’s Soap. He breathes a sigh in relief. “You- scared the heck out of me! Sheesh.”

 

Soap snorts, then laughs. “Me? Scare you? Really?”

 

Trophy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. To be fair you took me off guard.” He crosses his arms. Thank fuck. She’s alive, thank fuck.

 

The rest of the objects start to chat, and Trophy feels like he can finally relax for the day. She’s safe. She’s fine. Just. Maybe don’t let her get in the water? No- you’re being stupid. Calm down. It was literally just a dream.

 

He sees Candle giving him a look. He grumbles a little as she comes towards him.

 

“I can sense your worry, you know.” Candle comes up beside him.

 

“I… had another dream, but it’s fine. It was stupid anyways.” Trophy grips his arm tightly.

 

“If it makes you this worried, it isn’t stupid.”

 

Trophy glances up towards the rest of the group. It looks like they’re cleaning up around the lake. It’s likely some parts from Cobs’ machinery somehow found its way in there. He looks away again.

 

“You can choose to keep hiding what is troubling you. But I do warn you. It will be at your expense.” Candle’s flame quivers.

 

“Let me figure that out, then.” Trophy’s voice emboldened with anger.

 

“Your loss.”

 

Trophy pauses, looking to Candle, who’s already walking away. Did she just- reference season 2? Without knowing she referenced season 2? Whatever. This is dumb.

 

Trophy sits down on a nearby bench, flipping through his camera’s reel, deleting any bad shots. He was still serious about that photo op, in spite of everything. Suddenly, as he’s doing this, his ears start ringing, like tinnitus. It’s quiet at first, ignorable, but slowly got louder, and louder, until it felt like his head was pounding with it. He looks back up, looking around. Everyone is still off doing their own thing, but he sees someone- or something- slink away into the woods in the corner of his eye.

 

He turns to see it, but it’s left. Nope, not letting this slide. Whatever just went into the forest, he’s finding it. He trudges into the bushes, finding a walked-down path. Following it, he sees the shadowy mass continue into the woods. He breaks into a run, darting after it.

 

He hasn’t done this in a while. The last time he ran in the forest was to try and get a picture of a bobcat that really didn’t like him all that much. But he avoided the nearby roots with ease, somehow finding footholds even off-path. Weaving through trees and fallen branches, he slows to a stop.

 

He sees a deer- a buck. The reason why it looked so shadowy is because it’s fur and antlers were pure black. Carefully, he raises the camera to his eye, snapping the photo. Perfect shot. The deer soon darts away after spotting him.

 

Trophy checks the photo, ensuring that everything does indeed look good. He notices something nearby the deer’s hooves. He looks back up at the clearing. Trudging through the forest brush, and digging a bit, he finds- a clear plastic box? With a camera in it? Why is this here? Popping open the lid, he takes out the camera. This one’s much older than his, still requiring physical roll film. It’s in surprisingly good condition, despite being left in the woods for… how long? What’s even stranger is that this has to be another contestant’s property- but nobody- er, nobody that he knows, comes around this lake very often.

 

He freezes. The lake. Hastily putting the camera in his book bag, he turns back around, finding his way back to the lake, right as the sun is starting to set, and the group is regrouping.

 

“Ah, there you are! I wondered where you were.” Taco said, nudging him with her elbow. “Off to chase a rabbit for a photo?”

 

He pauses. “A deer, actually.” He scans the group. “Is everyone here before we head back?”

 

Everyone looks at him strangely, then at each other, realizing indeed that yes, one of them is missing.

 

Trophy looks to the water.

Chapter Text

Trophy is waiting outside the medical wing. Checking the clock from the window, he peers back into his bookbag, taking out the old camera he found. It’s been too long since the last time he used a camera that needed roll film, and this kind of camera definitely isn’t the one he is used to. He hears footsteps, and quickly puts the camera away, looking up to see who it is. “Test Tube? What are you doing here?” Trophy raises an eyebrow.

“I can ask you the same thing! I swear if you did anything-”

“Hey hey- I wouldn’t hurt her for no reason! She didn’t do anything to me- I wasn’t even THERE when she got hurt, I had followed a deer into the woods!” Trophy put his hands in front of himself, trying to gain some distance between him and Test Tube.
“Test Tube- Please, don’t. Candle told me everything, he really is telling the truth.” A smaller, green object puts a hand on Test Tube’s arm.

Test Tube turns back to them a little, then sighs, looking back to Trophy. “Sorry. Sorry…” Test Tube scratches the back of her vial.

Trophy squints at the object he doesn’t recognize. “Who are you?” He asks, trying to not sound hostile.

“Oh! Haha- I guess we never met because we weren’t in Season 3 together. I’m Bot!” Bot extends a hand to Trophy, who shakes it. Their hands are cold and metallic.

“Nice to uh- meet you. I’m Trophy, but, I don’t think you need my introduction.” Trophy goes back to rubbing his arm nervously.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Paintbrush said you were acting fine but you seem strangely-”

“I’m trying something new, ok? I’ve- been talking with Candle and-” How does he tell them he cares without telling them he cares? God he has a headache. “Please, just… make sure Soap is okay.”

“Well that’s the thing- you should know if I get called to the medical wing, an object definitely is not okay.” Test Tube walks through the door, Bot following. Trophy slips in behind the two.

“What did they call you in-” Bot covers Trophy’s mouth before he can continue talking. They make a motion with their index finger to their mouth. Quiet.

The trio make their way into the office, where Fan is stepping out of, wearing a face mask. He hands one to Test Tube and one to Bot, who looks at him strangely. He looks back at them, equally confused. They look at each other confused for a moment. The gears in Fan’s mind finally clicks. He hands the mask to Trophy instead until Salt pokes out of the room, shaking her head in disapproval, nabbing the mask before disappearing back into the room.

Trophy guesses he’s not allowed inside, still. Guess they haven’t been told that he really didn’t cause what happened, or they straight-up don’t believe Candle. Either explanation works. He sighs.

He sees Fan leave the hall, out into the empty waiting area. Trophy follows him.

“Hey- so um. I know this is weird coming from me-” Trophy keeps his voice in a whisper. “But, what’s going on? Is she okay?”

Fan sits down and puts his face in his hands. “Whatever hurt her possibly has some kind of- virus- and…” You’re able to hear a quiver in Fan’s voice. Whatever happened isn’t okay, and he is scared for his life.

Trophy backs away a little. Was… he always like this? Trophy always remembered him as optimistic, and seeing him so… devastated? Worried? Just felt off-putting.

Maybe… Trophy slowly sits down next to him. He raises an arm slowly, then asks, “Is it… alright if I pat your back?”

Fan falls into Trophy, starting to cry, holding him tightly. Trophy, not used to this, has no clue what to do. He slowly eases into it, hugging him back.

Trophy doesn't know Fan very well, but he knows him well enough to tell that something isn't right. Whether or not this is played up for dramatics, however, is to be determined.

“Hey, hey, uh… there, there…” Trophy awkwardly pats Fan gently, not wanting to hurt him. “Take a breather… um…” shit. What was it that Candle told him to do when he got upset at the lake? Count to ten while holding a breath? Or was it five?

“You… sure you didn't see anything- besides the crows?” Fan's voice trembled.

“I… not really. As far as I knew she uh- was just. Planning on getting some parts from the crashed meeple ship out of there and then- just…” Trophy's voice trailed off.

The two were quiet for a bit, Trophy's hand resting on Fan's back. Fan was still clinging to him. As Fan calmed, he realized something, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Fan props himself up, hands on Trophy's shoulders. “This is really out of character for you.”

“I- ugh.” Trophy covers his face, groaning. “Look, I'm trying to- be less of- you know. Plus, you're one to talk, Mr. Clingy.”

“I am NOT clingy!” Fan scoffs, folding his arms.

“Sure.” Trophy pinches the bridge between his eyes. “Anyways, um.”

“Why do you care about Soap of all people?” Fan asked. “I've barely seen you talk to her.”

“I-” Trophy gets a flash of an image behind his eyelids. He doesn’t have time to process it as he opens his eyes. “Um. Gut feeling that something was going to happen and it wouldn't be good. I guess?” Trophy take the hand that was on his face and rubs his arm with it, nervous. “I usually don't have gut feelings. But if I do I usually act on them. Intuition I guess.”

“You're still avoiding the question- do you have a dynamic with her that I don't know about?”

“What- no! Are you seriously asking me about this for your blog or something?”

“It’s how I cope.”

The sound of Dr. Fizz clearing his throat is more than enough to get their attention.

“We have a problem.”

…

“...so whatever was on that ship was likely what caused her to get this strange infection. We're going to have to quarantine her here for the next week or so.” Test Tube finished explaining.

“By blood you say?” Fan asked.

“We think it got into her blood when she scraped herself on it, yes. She then went into shock, possibly why she fainted.” Dr. Fizz replied coldly. “I myself am just glad it was only that small metal bit which broke through her skin. And more glad it was only her leg, and not her object. Because as we all know-”

“Intense damage to fluid holding objects’ object parts, causing a leak, is terminal.” The rest of the group said, as if on cue.

“...Thank you for remembering.” Dr. Fizz looked away, scratching the back of his can.

“Do you think she'll… you know…” Mic's voice trailed off.

Trophy jolted a little, not having remembered when Mic got here.

“It depends on the effects the virus causes to the rest of her body. Right now, she seems fine, just as if it were a normal wound, minus the uh… black ‘microbes’ we found in the blood.” Test Tube elaborated, finger quoting.

“So you don't know?”

Test Tube opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, readjusting her glasses. Dr. Fizz shakes his head. “We know as much as you do about that.”

“What should be done about the lake then?” Trophy asked.

“Going into there while the virus is active is a biohazard. Signs will be put up and the area will be blocked off.” Test Tube stated.

“Yes but… it's water.” Trophy said.

“It doesn’t spread through-”

“Wildlife would be affected by this.” Trophy elaborated. “What do we do if a rabid animal attacks one of us, while carrying the virus?”

Test Tube puts a hand on her chin, tapping it. “You have a point…”

“Maybe fence up around the place?” Pepper asked.

“A deer could still get stuck in the fence, other animals can just climb over it.” Bot refuted.

“How about, like, a tarp over it or something?” Salt suggested.

“You dolts. We need to get rid of whatever is in there.” Taco piped up, her words sharp. “If the virus is being caused by a piece of the ship, we need to get it out of there.”

“This could also provide more live samples, and perhaps an explanation as to why the virus exists!” Test tube exclaims. “Or- how it develops.”

“Test Tube, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but being in the lake is what hurt her in the first place.” Dr. Fizz said.

“That’s because she couldn't see it.” Taco snapped back. “How was she supposed to know it was there?”

“Taco-”

“Well, then, drain the lake!” Trophy slammed his fists onto the table.

“Trophy-”

“Drain the lake, figure out how to drag the damn thing out, and-”

“That is DANGEROUS given our current circumstances. You do not know what else is in there, and what this-”

“Couldn't be any worse than what we've already found!”

“I can assure you that there very well could be-”

“Oh my COBS can you not-”

“TROPHY.” Dr. Fizz grips him by one of his handles, hard, tugging Trophy towards him.

Trophy snaps out of his rage. He sees Dr. Fizz's disgruntled, angry, and tired expression.

“I appreciate the fact you want to be a hero and save everyone from this issue, but I explicitly forbid this, and Suitcase would say the same.”

After a pause of silence, the can sighs, letting go of Trophy. “You are dismissed. Do not bother our patient.”

…

Trophy softly opens the door.

“-And you expect me to just understand? No, I don't understand! They had to explain to us by word instead of whatever stupid thing they had planned, and now you expect me to be fine after being told the competition doesn't exist anymore???”

“I don't expect you to be fine, Teddy.” Candle replied.

Trophy raises an eyebrow. He sees who Candle is talking to; a teddy bear. Her voice is shrill and her clawed paws are clenched in rage. “Then why are you asking me to calm down about it?!” Teddy exclaims.

“Anger won't help your situation.”

“Uh, hi. Um. Don't mind me, I just room with her. For now.” Trophy blurts out, making his presence known.

Teddy looks to Trophy and squints for a moment, looking confused. “How do you hold anything with those hooves?”

“They're more dexterous than you think.” He replies, crossing his arms.

“Trophy, this is Teddy. She recently resurfaced. They don't know where to room her yet, hence the third new bed on the other side of the room.” Candle explained.

Great. Now there's two of the argumentative, fighty types in the room together. Incredible planning, OSC.

“Is Soap alright?” Candle diverts the topic.

Trophy pauses, then sighs. “Not really… they're keeping her there overnight and. I kind of blew up at Dr. Fizz trying to explain why whatever hurt her needs to be pulled out of the lake, but apparently Suitcase has already forbidden that idea.”

“Ok, hold on, what?” Teddy asks, confused.

“Soap got injured earlier today.” Candle explains. “They haven't gotten back to me about it yet, but I have also been busy.”

“They say whatever hurt her caused something to get into her bloodstream.” Trophy said coldly. “They don't know what it is.”

The two objects in front of him go from mildly concerned to worried.

“Fan is… devastated. Test Tube had been called in to investigate, and even she didn't recognize it.” Trophy sat down on his bed, setting his book bag on the floor softly.

“I don't know who those guys are but it sounds like one of them is a scientist, and if the scientist doesn't know, then-” Teddy pauses. “Are they quarantining her?”

“Yes. They're going to test all the people who got in the water tomorrow. I didn't get in it, not after the…” Trophy realizes what he's saying. Fuck it. “Weird dream I had.”

“I did see you back away from the water's edge after walking up to it. Is this dream the reason?” Candle asked.

“I- well.” He remembered a key difference between the dream and what happened. The froth and oil was still there, but… different. “I saw black frothy foam there and decided I wanted nothing to do with that. And it looked different than what… I expected it to?”

“Ok do you have any, like. Future visions or something? And are trying to hide them?” Teddy asks. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I didn't want to say that because I don't want to sound like a nutcase!” Trophy blurted out, frustrated. He crosses his arms. “That and I doubt it was a future vision. It was probably just a weird, one time coincidence.”

Candle taps her chin, her flame flicking from side to side, as if to show her thoughts pacing back and forth. “Are you sure it wasn't just deja vu?”

“I mean- it's possible? But that dream is still fresh in my mind.”

“If you have any more dreams, could you share more of them next time? Just to confirm this is a coincidence.” Candle replies.

“...Sure. I guess.”

…

Test Tube drums a pen on her desk, glancing back to the samples she's received. It's not a virus she knows of but also not a normal cell, either. She knows not to judge based on appearance, but it almost looks intentionally pixelated, even under a microscope, as if it's object made or alien in nature.

She hears shuffling from behind her. “Fan, you can come in. You know I don't mind.”

“Hey.”

Test Tube jolts, slowly turning to look behind her. “Soap? You're-” Test Tube freezes when looking at her.

“I'm a bit cold.”

“Um. Ok, I'll get Salt on that. Please, please get back to your cot. You shouldn't be walking on that leg of yours… how. Are you able to bear that much pain?”

“Pain?” Soap asks, her voice sounding eerie, lifeless. Test Tube watches as blood drips down her leg through the bandages. It hasn't stopped bleeding- or, her moving caused it to break back open.

Test Tube blinks slowly, worried. “Hah, um, silly me, they probably numbed you… still though, you shouldn't be walking on it.”

Soap nods, shuffling away, leaning on the wall to keep her steady.

Test Tube doesn't know if it is just her being tired, but Soap's face didn't look quite right. She couldn't focus on it. Soap isn't acting right, either.

She looks at the trail of blood left by Soap's hooves. Test Tube buzzes a walkie talkie. “Soap is awake and somehow mobile. Please get her blankets and make sure she doesn't leave the office again.” Test Tube talks into the radio, trying to be quiet. She pauses a moment. “She’s also bleeding, a lot. You can see where it is. Don't step in it.”