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Off kilter. Wrong in a way that threw his balance and worldview for a trip around the solar system. The energy around him moved weirdly, rejected him in a way similar yet so entirely different from how his—the one he belonged to—world had done so. If he had to put it into words, his world read his code and registered him as dead, but this one rejected him in his entirety because his code didn’t belong in its system at all; they weren’t compatible in the least.
Problem: Hax was still Hackingnoises. Still equipped with the same mind, body and abilities he had previously—before the world-jump, that was. This meant the chance of him being able to return was incredibly slim; he couldn’t just kill himself in this world to return to his original one like in slopified isekais—if he could return at all.
Stars, he really wanted to return. He couldn’t just let four months of preparation for that thing go to waste and leave 7rowl and Mongey hanging. Now that he thought about it, what guaranteed a million, billion, quadrillion years hadn't passed while he was travelling between worlds? Nothing, really.
Hax had really gotten himself into quite the pickle-
“Yo,” called Infume’s familiar voice that was just ever so slightly off, “hurry up, we’re gonna be late!”
Late? Late to what? Hax was unemployed and spent most of the mornings lazing around in their apartment, and he’d checked the calendar yesterday. Nothing planned- ah. Right.
It was just that everything seemed so familiar that he couldn’t help but lean on old routines. Still, not a valid excuse for getting lax, as 7rowl would say.
Maaaan, he was getting old…
The front door was cracked slightly ajar, yellow tinted light steaming in from the hallway. Infume’s shadow loomed from just beyond the door, cast on the wooden flooring of their apartment.
“I’m trying, bro!” He scrambled up from the sofa he was zoned out on. Thankfully, the layout of the apartment still seemed to be roughly the same, though missing a majority the trinkets Hax had lovingly collected over his stay. He scanned around; kitchen counter, fridge, bathroom door, bunk beds in the nook, desk, and there, the shared closet!
Well, for Hax’s civilian clothes, at least. He’d bought decorative pillows and stuffed them with outgrown jackets and parts of his Boreas costume he couldn’t reasonably pass off as just coincidence.
Nine times out of ten, it was in his best interest to hide any abnormalities. Maybe while pretending to choose an outfit, Hax could take a peak at the calender. Caught up in his musings, Hax opened the closet door mindlessly— okay what the fuck was Alcor’s uniform doing here. His eyes snapped to the too familiar fabric next to Alcor’s spare hoodie, world spinning. Same color, same weave, he grabbed the sleeve of the jacket and fussed with it; same material.
What was- no.
Floor tiles squeaked under his pounding footsteps; he ran for the bathroom. Door flinging open, his body slamming into the door that banged against the wall, hinges groaning.
Looking up, he locked eyes with a dead man.
Dressed in the funeral wear of a Ranker. His hair was pure black. Reaching for his Shifter and activating it, it turned into uninterrupted shades of blue.
Seriously? No, these fuckers had to be joking. Yeah, okay, he was just making shit up now. Whatever disorders he had before morphed into psychosis or some new bullshit because there was just no fucking way. And even if that hellscape was reality, there was no reason why it should’ve effected him.
More light from the hallway streamed in, as other-fume walked in, and Hax had to suppress a flinch when he turned and was greeted with fully suited up Alcor.
Frown on his face and leaned up against the doorway, he asked, “what’s up, man?” His concerned voice tugged at Hax’s heartstrings, who had to remind himself; this wasn’t his world. It would be best for all parties involved for him to get outta here very fast indeed! Strong as a lion, swift as a fox, and whatnot. Strike like a snake and sing like a..?
Whatever.
“Oh, nothing nothing,” Hax’s stomach curdled when faced with the ease at which Hax had slipped back into an old role, “Bro, did you know Shifters can capture, like, one billion appearances?”
“No way,” Infume reeled back slightly, confusion morphing into disbelief. “Then why aren’t more Shifters given to spies or undercover agents?”
Scoffing, he sniped back, “Why aren’t the keys to the city given to rando bankers? What the hell are you asking me right now? Let’s think before we speak, no?” Hax rolled his eyes. Infume was such a chud sometimes.
“How does that even.?” Infume sighed and looked off to the side, “Whatever, man. Just-“ he walked to the closet and pulled Caecius’ jacket off the hanger, holding it up towards Hax, “put this on and let’s just go.”
“Psh, fiiiine,” Hax grumbled playfully. He trudged towards Infume and slipped one arm the sleeve, letting Infume get his other arm in instead of asking why are you keeping a phantom around? Spend enough time around the dead and you’ll be infected with all their residual bad luck, you know? because his kindness and empathy knew no bounds.
It still fit him like second skin, the same way death wrapped around his body smoothly. He’d sworn to never put on that layer again; the one that choked him under the weight of expectations and lives resting on his shoulders, dependent on him. Knowing better than to voice any of this, Hax asked “Where to next, mom?” and dreaded the answer he knew would come.
“Ranked HQ!” Infume muttered with artificial cheer.
Putting on his best excited (!) voice, Hax smiled and joined in, “Yay!”
——
One step into the building, and he was transported to the past.
After he’d knocked down a few streets in a fit of rage, Ranked HQ had been rebuilt; bigger with more ‘modern’ sensibilities that just meant more ugly monochrome and smooth surfaces.
Now, in this world, though? The old thing still stood proudly; fancy flairs, carvings, colorful murals and all. Even the lobby was so much livelier, filled with hustle and bustle, though maybe that was because there was less room overall, so people were less spread out. If he was honest, he so preferred the old HQ to the new one, even with the bad memories associated.
Maybe it was ‘cause the old one was built by civilians for civilians, instead of rich folks to jerk off the corrupt Ranked CEOs. Or maybe because the new one was so drab and had so little aura, just in general. Who knew?
Infume grabbed his wrist and pulled Hax towards the elevators, whispering, “What the hell are you doing?! We’re seriously gonna be late.” >
At this rate, Hax wouldn’t be surprised if Infume was horrible at being low-key in every universe, cause people kept turning to look at them anyways. “My bad, my bad,” Hax shrugged.
He was really screwed this time. Based on nothing but pure vibes, Hax guessed they were probably headed towards a meeting with the Ranked higher ups, whom he hated with a passion that came from the very depths of his soul and code, by the way.
Pressing the up button—of course it was upstairs, none of those bastards like being below anyone—, Infume tightened his grip on Hax’s wrist.
Was he afraid of Hax getting cold feet and running off? Even in this world?
Interesting.
So very, very interesting.
With that in mind, Hax was able to stomach the thought of this Hax’s survival; an enemy of his enemy was his friend, and all that. The elevator ding’ed, and Hax briefly paused in his musings to get on the elevator with Infume, who was fidgeting and full of nervous energy. Hax absentmindedly watched Infume tap his fingers on his thigh, and squeeze Hax’s hand intermittently before looking away.
That meant something. That meant something. But what exactly? Okay, letting go of his biases, Infume had seemed more and more nervous the closer they’d gotten to Ranked HQ. He’d stuck by-.
By Caecius. For comfort, presumably.
From the Ranked heads? What could those posh nepo babies, who hadn’t had to fear the threat of Rifts in years, do?
Nevermind. Hax knew the answer to that question all too well; it was why he’d made sure to plan that so thoroughly, so there was no chance of him getting dragged back to civil service hell. Still, it was ridiculous. Hatred—now that he could understand. Empathized, even, because the same disgust flowed through his veins and made his heart pump. But fear? Of cowards who hid behind big paychecks and the shadow of a mirage that was only true because people believed it so?
Unthinkable. That was, unless they were more capable in this world. His stomach sank thinking of the possibilities.
Ding.
Infume’s breath audibly caught. If he was scared, Hax was also probably supposed to be, too. Hackingnoises guided Infume, who was trembling slightly, out of the elevator, whispering quietly, “Where do we go?”
He despised letting them feel even more in power, but he could bear with this for his future self. These few moments were hardly as long as the four, five months of careful preparation Hax had already endured for the sake of the bigger picture.
Taking a moment to recompose himself, Infume straightened up and guided them, making his way through the maze of doors, hallways, and secret tunnels.
Fuck. 7rowl was soooo incredibly lucky Hax was such a good friend to him, because while he empathized with other-Hax, he could barely stand the cowardance. It was nauseating, being mistaken for such a useless fleshbag, much less sharing an identity with him.
Ah, 7rowl. Someone that probably knew other-Hax, too, who had information he could glean easily, as Rowl had never been the type to be stingy about information shared. A 7rowl who was just as good of a friend to other-hax as his Rowl was to him; a fellow living breathing human who shared traits and a name with his dearly beloved friend. That 7rowl.
Who cared where other-Hax’s allegiances lay? The More Trio would find each other and become friends in every universe, that much Hax was sure of. He’d seen it coded into the very universe, after all.
He’d checked his phone on their way here; the one he had on himself was strictly for official business with very little apps or personal contacts. Other-Hax had probably hidden his personal phone away somewhere. What power rank was other-Hax? Probably around his same level, no?
Infume came to a stop, Hax barely avoiding slamming into him.
Knock knock, Infume rapped on the door.
“Come in,” a voice called out. The door opened with hardly a sound, light streaming in, obscuring Hax’s vision. Was he scared? No.
Was he nervous? Yes, because there was nothing to be afraid of; there came a certain divinity with defying death—not that he could claim that anymore. Not after they’d erased all the death markers in his code.
Not having anything to be afraid of meant he had to be on guard for anything being a serious threat. Even the presence of the man he’d adored in his world.