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Chapter Text

Scary Movie Marathon

Peepers stretched, cracking his joints. He'd been crunching numbers all day since they still hadn't replaced Ted from accounting and there were all sorts of new finances to muddle through since the general destruction of the galaxy. Yes, one planet had survived, but Peepers wasn't quite so optimistic about calling that a victory. There was a lot of work to be done before they could start conquering again.

But he needed a break. Not that he liked to admit it.

Shoving away from the desk, Peepers shook out his limbs and psyched himself up for talking with the other Watchdogs. It wasn't something he did, but after seeing how they'd responded to Hater's just knowing their names, Peepers was willing to reevaluate his approach.

He could do this. A deep breath and -- Peepers stepped out into an empty hall.

His eye narrowed suspiciously. The ship was quiet. Too quiet.

A majority of the Watchdogs were scattered to planets doing reconstruction, but that left a contingent of fifty still to run the ship. Mostly new recruits and a few homebodies as anyone with seniority had pulled rank to work off-ship, but somebody should have been here.

Peepers prowled the halls, searching for any of his Watchdogs. The echo of his footsteps were the only things keeping him company.

It took him several minutes to realize those weren't his footsteps, but someone's just ahead, in-sync with his own.

He peeked around corners every time he thought he was almost on the person making them but found nothing. Sometimes, he saw just the edge of a boot or a shadow on a wall suggesting someone was definitely here with him. Several more minutes and he noticed the footsteps right behind him, their heavier gait overwhelming his own steps.

Peepers spun around, blaster drawn. The hall was empty. "Show yourself!" he commanded.

Silence.

But in that silence, he heard screaming from one of the conference rooms. Eye widening, Peepers sprinted to the room so quickly the door didn't have time to open before he hit it.

It slid open, and he fell into the room.

Watchdogs were screaming, popcorn was everywhere, and Peepers had landed eye-first in a puddle of soda. He cringed and wiped it off.

"WHAT," he yelled loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "IS GOING ON?"

They all stared at him and for a moment blessed silence fell, except for the sounds of a person being butchered on-screen. Then the Watchdogs began screaming again, only this time instead of "the killer's right behind you! You have two eyes, use them!" it was "it's Commander Peepers! Hide! No, run! No, stand perfectly still!"

"I'm not a dinosaur, you idiots!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "And if you ever do meet a dinosaur, I hope you try that, and it eats you."

The Watchdogs quieted and looked suitably chastised. Peepers scanned his men, then the movie, which somebody had had the presence of mind to pause. "Oh, is that Eye Scream?"

"We're doing a marathon," Andy said, peeking up from the other side of a couch that had been dragged into the room. Instead of manning the security office like he was supposed to.

"This is the third one, right?"

"Y-yeah. How'd you know?"

Peepers was silent, warring over his urge to dismiss the question so he could lecture them and his decision to adjust his approach. "...I love these movies," he admitted, finally. There, some personal details.

"Really, sir?" Andy asked.

"Ineffectual people who don't listen to explicit orders getting brutally murdered one by one for their stupidity?" Peepers huffed a laugh. "What's not to like?"

"Well when you put it like that..." Somebody whispered to Andy and he leaned down, held a quick conversation, then poked back up again. "Bean was wondering if you wanted to, uh, join us?"

Peepers thought about the empty halls, which he would be patrolling on his own, he now knew. Even if he got Watchdogs out there, their minds would be in here. The idea lacked any appeal. He'd already been chasing ghosts. Actually, for once, he felt more comfortable in here with all his own ineffectual people who didn't listen to explicit orders.

"I... suppose I could make room in my schedule."

The Watchdogs sighed collectively and began moving again.

"Is everyone here?" Peepers asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch. Things seemed a little more restrained since he'd entered, but he was fine with that. It wouldn't do for them to get too cozy with him. He was their superior, after all.

"Y-yeah," Lord Hater's gravelly voice spoke up from a pile of blankets beside him, accompanied by the slavering growls of Captain Tim.

"Sir!" Peeper screeched.

"Shh," Wander said from the other side of Peepers, tucked behind Sylvia and half into his hat. "They're startin' the movie again."

Sylvia smirked at Peepers, as though daring him to continue interrupting.

Peepers swallowed a scream. If there was one more person who wasn't supposed to be here, he would be reenacting Eye Scream 1 through 13, except 5 which, so far as he and most of the fanbase were concerned, didn't exist.

Nobody else said anything, eyes glued to the screen. Peepers surveyed the helmets, doing a quick count of 51 soldiers, plus one Lord Hater, two of Lord Hater's most wanted criminals, Peepers, and Captain Tim. It really was everyone here.

He settled back to watch the massacre on screen, then sat up straight and recounted. 50. Peepers glared across the heads of the Watchdogs a moment longer before he returned to the movie.

Watchdog Costume Party

Peepers heard the sounds of partying all the way to his office. Yes, he'd approved the party. Yes, it was a part of his new training plan to seem more... approachable, and no, he hadn't even had to figure it into the budget. The Watchdogs had pooled their resources to throw it. They'd even invited him, this time, but Peepers allowed one vacation day for himself and he'd already taken it to watch the movie marathon a few days ago.

He'd kinda... kinda liked it, though. Just hanging out, eating popcorn and laughing at the creative murders. Some were really impractical to the point of impossible, but that was what made it so fun.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to check on the party. Make sure it wasn't getting too out of hand.

When he left his office, he was pleased to see Watchdogs still at their posts and others performing their own duties. Apparently, horror movies were enough to clear the ship, but parties weren't to everyone's taste.

Peepers walked to the cafeteria like he had important business to attend to and received a litany of "sir, sir, sir"s as he went. Occasionally he'd nod at a recruit, or stop someone to get an update on their jobs. Most of the updates were verifying Wander hadn't slipped on-board somehow, Lord Hater wasn't... being Lord Hater-y anywhere he could cause problems, and Captain Tim wasn't rampaging. Nobody had seen Wander, and Lord Hater had taken Captain Tim planet-side to stretch his sundry, spidery legs and bask in the adulation of a grateful populous. Things were going well. Just a few minutes mingling wouldn't hurt.

Peepers paused outside the cafeteria doors. No, he couldn't just go in. Not only would he be a splash of cold water, it was a costume party. But Peepers didn't have any costumes, except... He ran back to his room.

Peepers rehearsed the name and story he'd give if anyone asked. His name was Eyelette, he was a cheerleader, and he worked in maintenance which is why nobody knew him. He'd even exchanged his distinctive helmet for a smaller, regulation lightning bolt one to wear under his wig and added some pompoms to the ensemble. The Watchdogs were idiots. No way they'd realize it was Peepers, even if they'd seen him fangirling at Hater's grop-awful rock show for Dominator in this exact same costume.

He held his breath as the cafeteria door slid open, regardless. The room was dark, but full of strobing lights and moving bodies. Peepers released the breath. He could do this.

Into the fray he went.

"Excuse me, excuse me," he said over and over, dodging props and arms and drinks, pompoms held up like shields. Even with much of the ship not attending, the cafeteria felt overcrowded. Peepers needed some space to breathe.

He found it at the buffet table, along with Wander. Because of course Wander would be here. It was both a party and a place he wasn't supposed to be.

He didn't seem to be wearing a costume, just a long, blonde wig and makeup that gave him eyelashes to forever. Peepers snatched up a paper cup and turned away to pour himself some punch. It was too late, though.

"Mr. P--"

"My name's Eyelette," Peepers said pointedly. He downed the cup in one go.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Eyelette," Wander agreed with a pleasant nod as he dunked a carrot stick right into the bowl of dip. Everyone else was crowded around the candy on the other side of the table, leaving the veggies and chips unmolested. "How ya likin' the party?"

Peepers refilled his cup and moved out of the way of a herd of all-seeing eyes, jarred eyes, and other eye-specific costumes he could have gone a lifetime never seeing. "What are you supposed to be?"

"That's Kate," the jarred eye told Peepers, to a sighed chorus of 'Kate's. That name sounded familiar, but not enough for him to readily identify. He could practically see little cartoon hearts popping around the Watchdogs' heads. Peepers wondered how long it had taken Wander to win them over. Five whole minutes, if he was lucky.

He scowled.

"She has just the prettiest eyelashes, doesn't she?" the jarred eye said as Wander giggled, batting his eyelashes at the Watchdog for good measure. There was glitter on them, and they sparkled with the movement.

Peepers blushed as though he'd been caught thinking that exact thought. "Ugh. That's just Wander in a wig. It's not even a real costume."

"And what are you supposed to be?" the all-seeing eye interrupted.

"My name is Eyelette. I am a cheerleader. I work in maintenance, so you have never met me before," Peepers recited flatly. The other watchdogs examined him, found his excuse passable, and moved on.

"You better be nice to Kate, Eyelette," jarred eye said. "I'm watching you."

Peepers resisted the urge to pompom punch jarred eye right in his punny face. It wouldn't do to assault the newbies.

"Y'all are too sweet," Wander interrupted, moving them out of the danger zone. When he walked back to Peepers, Peepers realized Wander had far more curves than he had any right to possess, and they moved in a hypnotically serpentine way. At times like this, Peepers had to wonder if his body was just a loose collection of parts held together by nothing but banjo strings and giggles.

Peepers coughed and grabbed some chips to shove into his face.

"So how are ya likin' the party?" Wander tried again.

"I was liking it fine before I saw my Watchdogs not doing their jobs." Wander tilted his head. "Not capturing you," Peepers clarified. "You're still Lord Hater's most wanted. Is that Zbornak somewhere?"

"Sylvia? Gosh, no. She's more into karaoke parties than costume ones. Especially not Watch--"

Wander's answer was cut off by a revving loud enough to drown out the awful dance music, and suddenly he and Peepers were both doused in punch and snack foods as the buffet table was sliced in half. They stared at each other in confusion, then at the figure easily triple their height looming over them, chainsaw teeth glowing a molten blue. He wore a mask that was nothing but bloodshot eyes and eyeholes dripping blood.

All the other Watchdogs were screaming, yet again, and pouring out of the cafeteria.

"Hi, what are you supposed t' be?" Wander asked the masked horror cheerfully.

Peepers tackled him as the chainsaw swung by, just barely knicking the lightning bolt rising out of Peeper's wig. He reached for his blaster -- no, no blaster. It was a costume party, not a military engagement. All he had were the pompoms dangling from their straps on his wrists.

Second best option was dragging Wander to his feet and running, flinging a pompom into the guy's face to distract him. They bolted out of the cafeteria and into what should have been an armed regimen if Peepers's Watchdogs were any good at their jobs.

Instead, everyone seemed to have completely vanished, except for the guy chasing them. Peepers hit the button to close the door, then hit it again, harder, to break it. He heard metal scream as the guy went for the door with his saw. That had looked like a plasma saw, so the door wouldn't last long.

"That wasn't very nice of them," Wander said, wringing punch out of his wig.

"Who was that?" Peepers asked, mostly himself as Wander was useless. Just... in general.

"They kinda reminded me of that guy from those movies."

"Eye Scream?"

Wander shrugged. "Or one of them other ones. I hid in my hat for most of 'em. Y'all really like your horror."

Peepers stared at Wander for a long moment.

"Grop, you're right. The mask. The saw. The party. It's like he walked out of a slasher flick...." Peepers trailed off, a look of realization dawning. Taking Wander's hand, Peepers pulled him along toward the armory, then tossed him in and closed the door behind them. "You're going to need a weapon."

"I don't do weapons."

"You'd better 'do weapons', Wander, because if he is some cheesy slasher villain, you and me? We're number one on his hit list."

"Aw, what'd I do to him?"

Peepers rolled his eye at the innocence of the question. He had his own list of things that Wander'd done. He easily believed others did, too. "In case you didn't know, slasher movies follow very specific patterns. One of those patterns is who dies next. You're the slut, mister 'date Kate, she's willing'. And I'm the bitch, and we're both dead by the end credits."

"I gotta object t' those terms."

Peepers perused the weapons on hand. "Object later. Now, we need to arm ourselves. I will not have a masked killer brandishing what I'm sure is an unlicenced plasma saw on my ship."

Monster Monday #3: Peepers

"Where is everyone?" Wander asked, hand clasped once again in Peeper's as he was led along down the hall. Peepers had no specific goal in mind, just to find the guy and put a clean, abrupt end to this. He couldn't let Wander out of his sight, though, because the idiot probably'd go and try to hug the guy or something and get eviscerated. Which would be nice, but would also be letting that guy get what Peepers assumed he wanted.

Peepers wore a gunmetal gray armored suit under his dress and had a blaster in hand. A laser sword was on his belt, and he'd made Wander take one, too. Maybe if he was lucky, Wander'd have no clue how to use it and stab himself.

"Probably hiding in their bunks," Peepers muttered, scanning the halls.  "They're mostly new recruits. After Lord Hater defeated Dominator, we got more signups than we knew what to do with. These are the newest of the new guys. And Andy. Everyone else is off rebuilding."

Wander made a noise of understanding. "Why aren't you out there?"

"Do you know how hard it is to rebuild a galaxy? I've been here drafting plans, procedures --"

"I do."

Peepers risked a glance at Wander. "Huh?" The sudden interest caused Wander to perk up, and Peepers realized he'd accidentally given Wander some indication he cared about what he had to say.

"I know how hard it is to rebuild. I had t' help Jeff with all that after he renounced villainy, and th' Empress of Silence, which as it turns out is actually her name, before Jeff, and Quasar, and..."

Peepers tuned out Wander as he listed names that progressively meant less and less to him, but he'd gotten the gist. This really was Wander's job, wasn't it? Reforming villains across the universe. Peepers wouldn't let Wander do that to Hater.

"'n' even when I was just a little kitten back in th' Devastation, I always went with my -- oof." He'd walked right into Peepers's arm that had been flung across his path. "What is it?"

"Shut up."

Footsteps grew louder and louder, rushing toward them, but it was hard to pinpoint the exact direction. They bounced off the walls all around. Peepers clicked off the safety of his blaster and maneuvered so that Wander was between him and a wall, and he could see down both sides of the hall.

The guy came from the left, plasma saw held aloft, ready to swing down at them. Peepers fired. It hit him square in the chest, but he didn't even slow. Peepers fired again, and he would have a third time if Wander hadn't dragged him away as the saw came crashing down.

They ran the opposite direction, the guy practically on their heels.

"I shot him, right?" Peepers yelled.

"Looked like it, yeah! Which is weird, 'cause I don't think I've seen any of y'all ever hit anyone!" Wander said. "Oh, here!" He brought Peepers up sharp and opened a panel in the wall. "In ya go."

There wasn't time to question Wander, so Peepers climbed in. Wander followed, and the saw came down just behind him. Wander just pushed Peepers further instead of freaking out, until suddenly there wasn't any floor beneath them and they fell down a hole.

A flickering, weak light filtering through a slowly turning fan further along the shaft, offering barely any illumination and a deep, rhythmic thumthumthum of background noise. Peepers shoved Wander off of him and sat up, adjusting his wig. He searched for his blaster, but it was gone. Not that it mattered, he supposed.

"Where are we?"

"The ventilation system. It's how I do most my travelin' through the ship."

Peepers squinted his eye at Wander for that but moved on to more important matters. "Okay, so blasters just... don't work on him?"

Wander nodded at Peepers's suit. "Maybe they've got armor under their costume."

"Fine. That just means I'll have to get close."

"I think you were real brave back there," Wander said as he clambered over Peepers to lead the way through the vents. Peepers crawled after him. "I'm very impressed, even if it didn't work."

"Don't patronize me."

Wander glanced over his shoulder. "I ain't! I'm bein' very sincere. You protected me and didn't even flinch or nuthin' when they were barrellin' down on ya."

Peepers refused to be flattered by the compliment. "I was trying to kill him. Doesn't that go against your moral code or whatever?"

"Well, I mean, ya didn't. And in our defense, they were tryin' to kill us first. It's like how I'm okay with Sylvia -- y'know -- " he paused and punched his hand. "Even if I wouldn't do it. Different strokes."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Peepers muttered. "Now let's get out of here. It's claustrophobic, and whatever perfume you're wearing is really irritating this close."

Wander led them to a vent opening down and dropped into the darkened locker room. Peepers fell out after him.

"Let's find the others," he said as he righted himself. "There's no doubt this guy'll have gone after them."

They stopped at the barracks door, only to find it completely mangled with messy soldering on the edges where the plasma saw had been wedged. Ignoring Wander's worried gasp, Peepers rapped on the door. "It's Commander Peepers. Report."

A voice came back, thin and weak through the metal. "That crazy guy tried to get in. There was a lot of noise, then he left. The -- the door's stuck."

"No kidding. Who's in there? Is anybody injured?"

"We're all here, and no, just scared."

Peepers let out an irritated sigh. "Stay in there. I'll handle this."

"Yes, sir." The recruits chimed back, voices already stronger. "Be careful, sir."

"You too, recruits." Peepers led Wander away, a slight sashay in his step that caused his skirt to twirl gently back and forth. Even if he felt -- was -- above them, it was nice to hear their concern. He returned to the ruined cafeteria, still littered with the detritus of the party, Wander trailing along behind him.

"Why are you still wearin' your dress?" Wander asked, because silence wasn't a thing he could let exist for more than a minute.

"I can't be seen saving you."

Wander gave him a flat look that reminded Peepers he wasn't actually as ditzy as he came across -- sometimes. "You seem pretty sure I'mma need savin'."

"Oh, I am very sure you'll need saving."

Peepers lowered the mask of his suit, and the corners of his eye crinkled up into a malicious smile. Wander leaned away a little, a frown on his face, as Peepers held up his own blade, flicking it on. It cast an unsettling glow over his eye.

"Why's that?" Wander asked warily.

"You're the bait."

Caramel Apples

Wander sighed and propped his head in his hands. He sat on the edge of the stage, a nice big spotlight right on him creating a halo effect around his shiny wig and even more glitter that had embedded itself in his fur. Music played from toppled speakers, and further in the darkness of the cafeteria a disco ball turned morosely.

Peepers was crouched behind an overturned table, back to the wall, ready to leap out and attack the instant the guy showed up.

The only problem was he wasn't showing up. It'd been about an hour, and if Peepers wasn't careful Wander'd just wander away from this whole thing, leaving him to figure out a new plan.

He'd been playing with his sword, flicking it on and off and making zwoom noises as he swung it through the air with absolutely terrible form, until Peepers took it from him, turned it off, and set it just out of reach. If Wander actually did stab himself, hilarious as that would be, there'd be no reason for the guy to come. But that left him with precious little else to do since Peepers had immediately forbidden him from singing, dancing, or any other 'fun' activity.

"I'm so boooooored, Mr. Peepers," Wander said, slumping back onto the stage.

Peepers surveyed the terrain, then somersaulted over the table and over to Wander, who yelped and fell off the stage when he landed almost on his head.

"You're right. Why isn't he coming?"

"Maybe it was just a prank. I mean, after all them movies, someone probably thought it'd be fun t' scare the newbies."

Peepers pointed to his damaged helmet, which had a sear mark where the tip should have been. "Do you think this is a prank? If I hadn't tackled you, you'd be a splash of orange across the floor."

Wander's mouth twisted at the image, and he raised no further theories. Peepers began to pace.

As Peepers muttered to himself, Wander went over to a chair and righted it, then rifled through the snacks.

"Are there any lollipops in there?" Peepers asked right at Wander's elbow, causing him to scream. He smirked at being the one to scare Wander and not the converse (and usual) and went on, "Find a lollipop and slut it up."

"I don't much care for candy." Peepers snorted in disbelief. "I'm sweet enough as is -- heheh. But really, it's all got a real processed sorta taste. Ain't there anything else?"

Peepers scanned the offerings, then picked up a caramel apple, picked off some confetti that had gotten stuck to it, and offered it to Wander. "Will this work?"

"Oh, sure thing. I love apples." Wander took the apple and began to lick at it, happy as could be.

Peepers cleared his throat, earning a questioning noise from Wander. "I said slutty, not like a kitten who just got a saucer of milk."

"Aw, kittens are great," Wander said as he draped sexily over his chair and looked at Peepers with hooded eyes. He licked more slowly on the caramel apple. Peepers felt blood rise on his sclera. Wander was at least doing what he asked.

Fortunately, Wander opened his mouth and the illusion of attractiveness was broken. "So why are folks like you 'n' me killed off in your movies?"

Peepers checked for the guy then brought his own chair over to Wander and placed it with his back to Wander so he could survey the room. There was no way the guy could pass up this opportunity. Two birds, one plasma saw.

He shrugged. "I haven't really thought much about it... It's mostly to do with moralistic standards, I guess. Have to punish the slut for being a slut, and who doesn't want to see the bitch get what's coming to her?"

"I don't! I like ya, Mr. Peepers."

"I -- " Peepers floundered for a moment for what to say at Wander's declaration. "I wasn't talking about me."

"Ain't ya th'.... b-word here?"

"I am the queen B, thank you very much."

Wander leaned over and snaked an arm around Peepers for a side-hug, enveloping him in soft fur and flowery perfume that filtered through the vents of Peepers's suit. "Nobody thinks that! Everyone likes ya a lot. Yer just forceful. An' a bit stand-offish. But besides that!"

Peepers shoved Wander away. "Stop trying to bond with me and eat your stupid apple."

Wander sat back into his chair, licking a little more sullenly at his caramel apple. "So why do I gotta die? What's wrong with free love?"

"First off, you calling it free love and not indiscriminate sex."

"It ain't indiscriminate sex. It's sex with people you enjoy th' company of, if not forever, at least in th' moment. Ain't nuthin' wrong with that."

Peepers's eye widened. "You actually are the slut."

"Well, I don't like th' way you keep usin' that term, but yeah? Why wouldn't I be? I like makin' other people feel good."

Peepers shook his head. "I don't know. I thought you were like... cuteness and goodness and other gross things like that. Pure, you know? But here you are, sleeping your way across the galaxy."

"Aw, you think I'm cute?" Wander's eyes crinkled at the edges as he grinned at Peepers, who sputtered a denial. "But none of those things ya listed got anything to do with sex. The one don't negate th' others."

"Yeah, but it's you. It's like Lord Hater getting lucky. It doesn't compute."

"I'd let Hatey get lucky with --" Wander's words were blessedly cut off before he could finish that sentence, but the slackened expression of surprise lessened Peepers's relief.

Wander's laser sword was jammed through his chest. "What?" he asked, blinking stupidly down at the glowing beam. It shut off, and he slumped forward into Peepers's lap.

Peepers looked up. The guy tossed the sword away. It clattered loudly in the absolute silence.

"How! You are like nine feet tall and four hundred pounds! How did you sneak up on us?" Peepers yelled.

The plasma saw growled to life again, and Peepers shoved Wander's body off of him to fumble away as the guy swung, chopping through the back of the chair like butter.

Another swing and it bit into Peeper's own sword. He wasn't going to go down like that pacifistic slutty weirdo, especially not in layers of irony like that.

Peepers deflected another blow and rolled to his feet, then leaped at the monster with a yell.

He stumbled back, barely blocking Peepers, who grabbed the guy's arm and swung around to kick him in his face. The mask cracked.

The guy backhanded him, sending him flying across the room. Peepers hit a table and rolled. He shoved himself free of the tablecloth and held his sword defensively in front of him, scanning the area.

The cafeteria was empty but for a puddle of blonde hair and orange fur on the dance floor Peepers wasn't willing to approach.

Chapter Text

Ghosts

The ship was silent as a grave, a quiet only broken by the metallic click of Peepers's boots. He found the absence of Wander jarring. For all the brief time they'd spent together, as opposed to opposite each other, Wander had left a lot of impressions, from his hand in Peepers's to the slap of his sneakers on the floor of the ship to the asinine conversation he liked to fill the air with. Peepers couldn't stop seeing that conversation being cut off so.... abruptly. His confusion, his body slumping forward. That had left a lot of impressions, too, in Peepers's mind. He hadn't expected Wander's death to leave him so shaken. If anything, he'd thought he'd be relieved, but Peepers was anything but.

Peepers's radio crackled to life, and he nearly leaped out of his skin.

"Commander Peepers, sir? We might have misspoken when we said everyone was in here," one of the recruits said.

Peepers took a steadying breath. If any of his Watchdogs died... "Who's missing?"

"Kate's not here -- " Peepers cut the recruit off to assure him Wander was fine. He'd deal with the fallout of that later. He'd have to explain to Sylvia, later. "But there's also this guy from maintenance, sir. His name was Lette -- Eyelette! That was it. He's not here. Could you find him and make sure he's safe?"

"Will do. Peepers out."

Peepers knew it'd be easier to just clear the ship and gas the whole place, but he wanted to do this himself. He felt he had to.

"I am not doing this to avenge you or anything, Wander!" he announced to fill the silence. "I'm glad you're dead! We've been trying to kill you for two seasons of our lives. I just wish it had been Lord Hater who'd done it! This is... this is revenge for him not being able to take his revenge on you, okay? And this is my ship and my men, and I am not going to let some cliched killer who probably actually liked Eye Scream 5 push us around! Also, I'm definitely going to kill them, which you would hate!"

Peepers felt a little better after that, but he suspected Wander's specter, who he assumed would now forever haunt the Skullship and continue his legacy of annoyance, was somewhere just over his shoulder, squealing like a balloon someone was letting all the air out of in excitement. Probably while batting his stupid, glittery eyelashes and wearing a wig, since that was what he'd died in. Because they were bonding and not paying attention to their surroundings. Of all the ways that idiot could have gone out.

"I'm not doing this for you," Peepers muttered.

Peepers kept hs sword at the ready and blaster on hand just in case. The instant he saw the killer, no hesitation, he was attacking. Right for the mask. The body might be armored, but that mask had been weak enough to crack .A laser sword through it would solve this whole thing.

Footsteps, heavy and plodding, and the now familiar noise of the plasma saw screaming across metal reached him from further down the halls. Sometimes Peepers wondered what the engineers had been smoking with some of their design choices. Holes, slides, round portals instead of doors, all in a confusing, stark Art Deco style.

He began to run toward the sounds. The last thing a psycho killer from a movie series Peepers was starting to heavily dislike would expect was to be the prey. He hoped.

The killer caught Peepers on the visor with their saw, knocking him into the wall and pinning him there. The saw revved louder as it chewed away at the material. Peepers shoved himself to the side and fell over, blinded by the plasma so close to his eye. He stumbled away, trying to blink clear the afterglow. Peepers could feel the air heating up behind him where the saw slashed, but none of the attacks connected. So long as he kept moving.

Soon the light had faded enough that he could make out the halls. Peepers spun around to face the killer.

He jumped a step back as another swipe almost connected, then sprung forward, his own blade humming to life. Sparks flew as they parried, thrust, slashed. Slowly, slowly Peepers gained ground. But he couldn't get a hit in.

He didn't have bulk behind his attacks like Sylvia, or Hater's sheer power, or Wander's.... whatever Wander had that had kept him alive until now. He'd have to rely on his brain and size, his strongest and weakest points.

Peepers caught the plasma saw along his arm, felt the vibrations of it grinding against the metal of his suit, heating it to dangerous levels. He punched it further askew. Peepers leaped, headbutting the killer, who stumbled back. He flicked off his sword then jammed the hilt against the killer's mouth hole and hit the on switch. It shot straight through, and Peepers yanked it up, cutting their head in half.

Like some great tree, the killer toppled. The plasma saw kicked and sputtered as it ate the floor before its safety kicked in and it shut itself off.

Peepers landed several feet away, sword held out to the side, ready to swipe again. The killer was still. There wasn't even the rise and fall of their chest.

He let out a puff of air, fogging up his visor momentarily. Not that he could see out of it, anyway. The material had bubbled and scuffed under the first attack. He took it off and threw it away as he caught his breath.

He -- he'd done it. He'd killed the killer. Wander's killer.

Peepers checked that the hall was indeed completely empty before allowing himself a short, celebratory cheer.

"Whew. Now to find out who you are, er, were," he told the corpse as he approached it.

It stood up.

Peepers fell onto his butt as it loomed seemingly bigger even than before. The two halves of its head flopped uselessly across its broad shoulders.

Instead of attacking Peepers, the body turned and ran drunkenly away, saw dragging on the ground behind it.

Peepers gawked. He hadn't thought -- it was like a slasher flick, not actually one. The killer couldn't come back to life after having their head chopped in half. This was real life. That should have been a kill.

Favorite Spooky WOY Episode

He needed new terrain Not long halls and echoing corridors lined with rooms that someone could just pop out of any moment. For all its insane design, the ship was comprised primarily of long halls and echoing corridors.

"Peepers checking in," he radioed as he ran through the ship, trying to think of the perfect location to end this. Something to work to his advantage. "Is Andy there?"

"Please don't make me go to the security room, sir!" Andy cried before anyone could confirm.

"I'm not -- I'm not going to send you there. That's a surefire way to get you killed."

Andy breathed a sigh of relief down the line. "Thanks, sir. What can I do for you?"

Peepers checked around a corner. Nothing out of place. He continued on.

"Can you access the security feeds on a phone or something?"

Andy laughed. "Please, sir, you think our feeds are that unsecure? Oh, hang on a moment." Peepers heard shuffling and conversation off to the side, then Andy came back on. "Nevermind. Bean says yeah, we can."

"Good. Do that. I need eyes on me and on every camera in my vicinity."

"Where are you going, sir?"

Peepers checked the sign of every door he passed, hoping for some inspiration. He was currently in the officers' quarters, which had the fewest cameras for privacy. The worst place to be. Peepers skidded to a halt in front of one of the doors, eye locked on the sign. "Tim, Espionage."

His eyelids curled up into a smile. He knew where he was going.

The door was gone, metal edges of where it used to be corroded by acid slime that still dripped and never seemed to dry. This section of the ship had been claimed by Captain Tim, and nobody was brave enough to try to take it back, so the little menace had set about turning it into a twisted, melted nightmare of glowing slime and slashed walls. Helmets littered the ground and were stuck to the walls, most punctuated by teeth marks.

"Can you see me, Andy?" Peepers asked.

"No, sir. But Eyelette's in there!"

Peepers sighed. he supposed the ruse was up, or it would be the instant he got this problem solved, anyway. "That's me, Andy. I'm Eyelette."

The line was quiet, then Andy finally said, "Oh, like you were wearing a costume wearing a costume! That's going above and beyond. As expected of you, sir."

"Yes, exactly that," Peepers said, wondering if Wander's stupidity was contagious. He'd seen right through the costume, though, unlike Peepers's own men. "I need eyes on all the cameras. The instant you see the killer, you tell me and give me their location."

"... Killer, sir? Have they killed someone?"

Yes, he wanted to say. Wander's dead. "No. And I'm going to make sure it stays that way."

Peepers walked carefully through the compromised parts of the ship, which groaned and creaked threateningly. If it was ready to collapse under his weight, the killer'd have a hell of a time. And from what he could see through the holes already in the floor, the lower levels were completely destroyed, leaving a pitch black void where Captain Tim probably planned to store all his victims when he inevitably started actually eating Watchdogs.

"Okay, killer!" Peepers yelled out to the ship. "We're going to do this right here! Right now! Come get me!"

The room was unresponsive.

A louder groan was all the warning he got before a vent pipe fell on him with a yell.

As that was something pipes weren't known for, Peepers shoved it off of him and leaped to his feet, already slashing down. He almost decapitated Wander when he flopped out of the pipe but managed to change course and simply gouge the floor.

"Mr. Peepers!" Wander chirped as he climbed a little stiffly to his feet, unaware of how close he'd come to losing his head. He had added a shirt to his ensemble, likely pilfered from the Skullship laundry room since it had a familiar red lighting bolt insignia, but elsewise he looked exactly the same as the corpse Peepers had left behind.

"You're -- you died! I saw -- the sword -- oh grop, are you immortal?"

"I don't think so?" Wander said uncertainly. "But I do got this hole still kinda right through me. Which is why I borrowed one of your shirts. It's a little disconcertin'." He pulled the shirt up to show a clean and cauterized hole, thanks to the sword. A few drops of something colorful were smeared in the fur around it.

Wander was right. That was disconcerting. Peepers could see right through him to the killer rushing them down the hall, head now completely gone. The pained noises of the metal around them grew louder and more distressed.

"Sir, some of the cameras are down!" Andy said too late. "In front of you!"

"I got it!"

Before Wander could figure out what Peepers was yelling about, Peepers planted his boot firmly on his face for leverage, then vaulted at the killer. They both fell back, and the floor gave way. Peepers had already resigned himself to whatever abyss lay beneath the floor, but something caught the back of his cheerleading outfit and yanked him up, leaving the killer to disappear into the darkness alone.

Wander hugged Peepers close to him. Peepers could feel the distinctly not dead warmth of his body. His breathing and heartbeat and perfume. Peepers shoved him away.

"I saw you die!"

"Ain't there more important things to deal with now?"

"No! Either they're already dead down there, or they'll be gone by the time we get down there. I thought you were dead! I was -- I was --"

Wander patted Peepers on the shoulder, only to find him back in his arms. "I was going to have to tell your Zbornak, and Lord Hater, and the recruits, and it happened right in front of me!"

Wander hushed him, petting Peepers's wig comfortingly. "You don't gotta do any of that now. I'm alive, so there's nothing to worry about."

"No, it's not. I thought -- " he cut himself off before he could say anything else. With a heavy breath to get his emotions under control, Peepers freed himself from Wander. He had glitter all over his eyelids and clothing. "You're wrong. I still have to stop that guy. You might be some freaky space monster or whatever, which is a concept I will deal with later, but my men and I are not. Andy, are there cameras on the lower levels?"

"If there were, they aren't working. And while some of the guys might be sad to hear of this development, may I be the first to congratulate you and Wander."

"Shut up -- no, not you Wander. I mean, yes, you, but -- Andy, whatever conclusion you've come to, you're wrong. Stop spying and do your job. I'm going down."

"On Wander? Is this really the time --"

"No! Grop, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm going down into this gaping hole in the floor. And I hope I die so I don't have to deal with you."

"Ouch, sir."

Peepers closed the line and turned to Wander, who had a politely befuddled look on his face. "Andy's watching the halls. You and I are going down there." He pointed at the hole. "But before that," he continued as Wander immediately went over to the hole, probably to jump in, "I'm going to shoot down there a lot."

"But what if you hit them?"

"That's the idea."

Peepers began to fire blindly. When he felt he had to have hit something, he stopped. "Keep an eye up here, Andy."

Peepers felt his way down carefully. The darkness wasn't so complete as it looked from higher up, with plenty of slime providing ambient lighting, and his own sword lending an angry red glow to everything. Wander made some effort to stick alongside Peepers instead of just flinging himself down into the pit but managed to fall the last few yards, leaving Peepers to scramble to catch up.

He caught Wander by his shirt to keep him from running off into the gloom. A short distance away lay the killer, plasma saw in pieces around them. Singe marks littered the floor from Peepers's earlier barrage.

Peepers stabbed at the body, earning a gasp from Wander at his sudden violence. It cut through too easily. Peepers kicked the body, and it gave a hollow clunk. He did it again, and the body shifted a bit. "It's just the suit!" With an angry cry, he began hacking at the suit. Just so it couldn't be used again and not at all in anger. Even if he predicted it, it didn't make him happy.

"Someone's moving around up top," Andy said. "The cameras keep cutting out, though."

"Peepers?" Wander asked, distracting him from his dismemberment. "I think this is blood over here."

"Good," Peepers muttered, squinting into the shadows toward where Wander was pointing, though it just looked like more darkness. He had no clue how Wander could have seen it, but Wander was everything but a liar. "They're not down here, but now they're out a plasma saw and a suit."

They climbed out of the hole.

"Now you don't gotta kill them, right?" Wander said as Peepers got directions from Andy.

"No, I'm still going to kill them. It'll just be easier now -- what are you doing?" he asked, voice carefully modulated. Wander's hand was around his wrist, keeping him from the hunt.

"Mr. Peepers."

"Wander." Peepers knew why Wander had stopped him, but he wasn't going to let him have his way. They stared at each other, until Wander sighed and, with a sad expression, let him go.

"Stay alert," Peepers told him. "You have two eyes, so use them. They're this way."

Phobia Friday #3: Peepers

They followed the path of staticky cameras throughout the ship until suddenly there was nothing. The cameras all worked, and nobody who wasn't supposed to be there (except Wander) was to be found. Peepers began to search more frantically, ignoring Andy's assurances that all the cameras were fine. Wander jogged along beside him.

"Are you okay, Peepers?" he asked as Peepers skidded around another corner.

"They're still here!" he hissed. "I can feel it."

"Even if they are, just runnin' around willy-nilly ain't gonna get 'em if they're not on the cameras. They're probably in the vents."

Peepers stopped sharply enough that Wander ran right past him and had to backtrack. "Do you know how much smaller they'd have to be than their suit for that to be true?"

"Well, why not? Dominator was enormous in her armor."

"True.... Find a vent."

Wander led Peepers to a vent near the airlocks. Wander boosted Peepers up into it, then scrabbled in himself. As soon as they were in the vent, Peepers realized Wander had trapped him. He tried crawling farther, but Wander braced his arms above and legs below Peepers.

"What are you doing, you weirdo?"

"What's wrong, Mr. Peepers?"

"You're in my personal space."

"Aside from that. You were gettin' real panicky out there. That killer ain't made a single move to kill any of the recruits. You don't need to rush so much."

"But we're still in danger. And that could change."

Wander nodded agreeably. "That's pretty usual for us, though. You bein' th' commander of an evil army 'n' me bein' an outlaw."

Peepers took a deep breath. Oh grop, was this what it was like for Hater, being so near Wander? There was just something about the weirdo, with his earnest looks and nonjudgemental smiles, that made him want to actually, ugh, talk. "This can't leave this vent," he said.

Wander's limbs relaxed, and Peepers should have used that to his advantage, but he found himself staying where he was.

"Of course not."

"I'm... I'm worried the recruits won't feel safe on the ship if I don't catch this guy."

"You mean, you're worried they'll think less of you?"

"That's not what I said!"

Wander propped his head on his hand and gave a smile Peepers couldn't help but call beatific, even under his gaudy makeup. Like he knew things about Peepers even Peepers didn't know.

"They already like ya, y'know. People wouldn't follow you if they didn't."

"They like Lord Hater. They follow him."

"An' what's Lord Hater without you?" Wander asked. Peepers stared at him. "I mean, I love the guy, but commandin' ain't really his thing. He wouldn't have an empire without ya."

"He'd still have an empire, if not for you. So thanks for that."

Wander shrugged, tongue poking out momentarily, and made no attempt to contradict that. Peepers looked further down the vent, refusing to let Wander's words get to him. To make him feel better.

"Sir -- the -- near --"

Peepers clicked his radio. "Andy? Stupid vents. You're breaking up."

"Airlock -- camera -- I re--"

The grate moved and an arm shot in, fumbling for them. Wander was in easy reach, since he was at eye-level with Peepers and taller. Peepers grabbed him as he was yanked through with a yelp, and they both fell out of the vent.

He got his feet under him and braced himself. "Oh no you don't! Give him back!"

The killer, without their armor, was indeed thin enough to fit in the vents, but tall. Maybe even as tall as Lord Hater, and dressed entirely in a black bodysuit.

Peepers dragged them by way of Wander toward the airlock and slapped the door with one hand. When the door slid open, Peepers threw his sword hilt at the exterior door button and prayed the security measures on it were as bad as the ones on their cameras.

The exterior door slid open, air shrieking as it was sucked into space. The killer was lifted off their feet. Peepers grabbed onto the doorframe and braced himself, other arm still firmly around Wander's wrist.

"I'm not as stretchy as y'all seem t' think I am!" Wander said, voice pitching up in panic as he was pulled between the two. "Owowow! They're scalin' me, Peepers!"

"Well, kick them off. My hands are a little full right now!"

A black hand wrapped around Wander's head, then another. Peepers really was going to have to do everything around here, wasn't he? If not that he refused to let Wander die at this stage, he would have just let him go and counted his blessings. Instead, Peepers let go of the doorframe and grabbed onto Wander with both hands as they all tumbled toward the open airlock. He kicked at the killer until they let go, then shoved off to slam into a wall. The killer slipped out into space.

Peepers hoped Wander could hold on as he let him go to slap wildly at the control panel until one of his hits got the exterior doors to close. Peepers fell to the ground, Wander on top of him. They took several seconds to compose themselves, then Peepers sat up, and Wander slipped to the floor.

"So that's it?" Wander asked. "They're... gone?"

"You know what they say. Third time's the charm," Peepers said with a smug look. "They're the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space's problem, now."

"Heheh, yeah," Wander said nervously, brushing at his wig with his fingers. "That's... good. I guess."

"Better them than us. Now come on, we have to get the recruits out of the barracks.

Despite Peepers's wishes, everyone wanted to resume their party, this time, with everyone involved. When he found himself pushed onto the stage by a cheering crowd, he was gripped with a level of fright he hadn't experienced the entire nightmare thusfar. He'd been on stage plenty of times before, and while there was always some pre-speech jitters, this was different. This wasn't hyping them for an invasion or briefing the men. This was him. In a stupid outfit everyone could see. Being celebrated. By people he hadn't scared or intimidated into obedience and respect.

He felt fingers thread through his own and looked up at Wander, who smiled at him. Peepers flushed and cast his gaze over the crowd, instead.

Andy was introducing him like nobody knew who he was or what he'd done, then passed the mic to Peepers.

"Um. Thank you, men, but," he coughed. "I was just doing what any good commander would do. Protect his troops. Remove any threats to them or the --"

"Wooo! You're a horror movie heroine! You saved us!" they interrupted.

Peepers paused as the crowd continued to yell praise, not sure what to say.

"Peepers! Peepers!" Wander said, and soon they were all chanting for Peepers like they did for Lord Hater. This was almost as nice as Hater acknowledging he needed Peepers.

"Yeah, you know what?" he asked, finding his courage at the blatant admiration. "I did! I was awesome!" Peepers grabbed Wander by the shirt and yanked him down into his arms for a kiss. He felt Wander's eyelashes tickle his eyelid as Wander closed his eyes. The crowd's cheering intensified. Peepers pulled back and dropped Wander, who yelped as he fell off the stage. "I kicked that guy's but! Go me! Woo!"

When Peepers finally stumbled back to his room, he found Wander sitting there, brushing out his wig. The shirt was gone, as was the hole in his chest. "Hiya, Mr. Peepers! How'd ya like your party?"

Peepers stripped out of his costume and suit and flopped down beside Wander on the bed.

"We destroyed every Eye Scream tape we had," he said. "And I am never doing that again." Wander made a questioning noise. Peepers rolled onto his side. "They're never going to take me seriously as a commander, now."

"Nah, I bet they're gonna be the best, most loyal soldiers now that they know how much y' care for 'em."

Peepers snorted and glanced away. "Why are you still here?"

"I can't find my orbble juice, so I was wonderin' if I could hang out until Sylvia comes by lookin' for me."

"It's weird that you're asking. Don't you just do that sort of stuff anyway?"

"Well," Wander trailed off, pulling up a clump of his wig to hide his face. "I was kinda hopin' I could hang out with you. You saved me, too, after all."

"Yeah, after you got stabbed."

"That wasn't your fault."

Peepers laid on his back. "I guess you can, but I'm going to sleep."

"Okay," Wander said quietly. He shook out his wig, and with a quiet little pop, it changed into his hat. He put it on the nightstand and lay down next to Peepers.

They lay side-by-side, staring up at the black of Peepers's ceiling. "How did you survive?"

"I'm pretty sure I did die, and... didn't? I was real surprised so it took a bit for all my undifferentiated quantum fluff to figure out what's what. I think."

"So if I were to shoot you," Peepers said. "Hypothetically."

"I'd just die. Of sadness. Hypothetically."

Peepers made a thoughtful sound, committing this information to memory. It made very little sense, but Wander made little sense in general, so he had no reason to believe this wasn't the truth. And Peepers had learned some valuable information about his whatever Wander was now. Enemy didn't feel right when they were sharing a bed.

Between all the excitement and danger, it was nice to have him very much alive right beside Peepers. He'd never do this with someone else, but Wander was Wander, so, with only a little hesitation, Peepers pulled him closer and rested his head on his torso. He felt like a warm, furry pillow. One that was rubbing its cheek against his head like a cat and full of fluff, apparently. It was... nice. Nicer than he expected. Peepers closed his eye and savored the rare quiet. He thought Wander never shut up, but the idiot knew enough to not say anything now.

Wander's hand came to rest on his head, another on his arm. Peepers closed his eye.

Chapter Text

The very next day, Peepers pulled his top scientists from the field and sent them back in the lab. He had questions, and they had better had answers. He stopped by to check on their progress with Wander's shirt and the suit left by the killer.

"Report."

"S-sir!" one of the scientists with a thick accent said, snapping to attention. "It it seems ve are looking at a humanoid of six feet or more in height. Possibly around 150 pounds in veight. Ze blood is inconclusive as to origin, but unremarkable. Ze suit vas cobbled together from Watchdog armor and modified. Also, ve found zis." He led Peepers to a microscope and gestured for him to look into it.

A bit of adjusting and a long, white strand of hair came into focus. "White hair," he muttered, an unwelcome thought creeping into his mind as the pieces fell into place. "Good job," Peepers said, louder. "And Wander?"

"Ze... fluid on ze shirt was likevise inconclusive. Bafflingly so. Are you sure it vas blood?"

"Or as close as Wander has to blood. I saw some on his fur around the wound. What about what he said? What's 'undifferentiated quantum fluff,' and can we kill it?"

"Assuming zat is an accurate description, and from vhat else you have said, I am not sure. Quantum biomechanics is primarily a theoretical field, commander. In theory, it makes sense zat a space-borne entity such as Vander is less specialized internally, as many extremophilic creatures are. And Vander is designed for ze most hostile and most extreme of environments: space. It could take a literal supernova to destroy him."

"That's..." Peepers trailed off, trying to decide how he felt about that. "Comforting to know."

"Or he could simply cease to exist if he felt strongly enough he should not," the scientist continued. "Some theories postulate zat emotional energy can affect atoms on a quantum level, much as observation does, which seems in line vith vhat he said."

"That's less comforting. Keep me updated on any new developments. I have some business to attend to."

Peepers left the labs and opened his line. "I need all recruits whose names begin with... T to meet me in my office."

"Terry, Tabitha, Thomas, Twan. Thank you for coming. I need you to do a thorough check of the vents throughout the ship. I've broken it up into quadrants. You will travel in pairs, and report any unusual findings to me, is that clear?"

The recruits saluted and took their assignment before leaving. They followed his word without question and with an efficiency that was absent in his more lackadaisical troops. Who knew all it took was a psychopathic killer to earn some respect around here? Aside from Wander. It was a refreshing change of pace.

Peepers had a suspicion what they would find but still needed proof before reporting to Lord Hater. The vents were completely unmonitored (something that would have to change), and only someone about Hater's height with technological skills and white hair could have done this. Someone who had recently lost her ship, her army, and her home. Between that, Wander's missing orbble juice, and his general lack of alarm at Peepers supposedly killing her, Peepers felt safe guessing Dominator had been living in the Skullship's vents and was now out there in space, still free. Still dangerous, too, if what she'd managed as a stowaway was any indication, but now she didn't even have that.

How the mighty had fallen. He'd make sure nothing like that happened to Hater, so Wander was back to being the enemy. No matter how nice he'd been. And soft. And supportive.

No. It was a new season of their lives, and Peepers wouldn't let Wander win.