Chapter Text
Things between Dynamite and Mushroom had felt… strange, lately, to say the least.
Throughout Dynamite’s childhood, he had always cared about Mushroom: she was his best friend, after all. He knew all the foods she liked, would skip all the same classes as her, and had every corner of her home internally mapped out. If he had something fun to talk about or felt upset about something, he would always go to her.
Now, though, something had been bothering him, but he didn't exactly know how to bring it up.
“Hey Mushroom,” Dynamite greeted nervously.
The tree, standing still in front of him, said nothing in response.
“Um, so I was just wondering, uh…”
The leaves on the tree stayed indignantly still, only swaying slightly with the forest breeze.
Stop mocking me, Dynamite thought at the plant. Clearly, the leaves were just a little too green, so it was insulting.
“Do you think it's weird that-” Dynamite paused, trying to organize his thoughts. “-I keep thinking about you? But… I don't know. I mean, I always did that in school, but this time I feel like if I talk to you, it would be weird. Is that weird?”
The tree stayed still. That's the weirdest thing ever, it implied silently, obviously. You're a stupid idiot who's stupid.
Dynamite huffed angrily, rolling his eyes. “Well you're the weirdest TREE ever!”
“Are you talking to a tree?”
Dynamite yelped, arms flailing in surprise as he promptly tripped on his own feet and fell. He hit the ground with a thump, his face planting firmly in the dirt. Pushing his arms on either side of his head, Dynamite groaned as he pushed himself back up, feeling his face heat with embarrassment.
“...No?” Dynamite's mouth had dirt in it.
In front of him stood Venus, one of the two young Razors in the pack tasked with teaching him how to hunt. His striking yellow body and bright white fur contrasted with the surrounding forest, and although he was one of the youngest of the Razor pack, his full height still surpassed that of Dynamite. The teenage bestial looked humorously at Dynamite, his face split in a wide grin.
Venus then burst into a roaring laughter, clutching at his chest as he doubled over in humor. “You looked so dumb! What, are you-” another fit of laughter cut off his words before he continued, “-lonely or something? Need to talk to trees to vent your feelings?”
Dynamite felt humiliated at first, before remembering that he was a few years older than this kid. Steeling himself, he replied, “Dude, you were literally talking to your food, at most, two days ago. I saw you.”
Venus paused, this time it being his face that turned red in embarrassment.
“No, you, um,”
The two objects glared at each other in a silent impasse for a few moments, neither saying a word. The only sound was the breeze floating softly through the trees, ruffling both of their fur. Eventually, Venus broke the silence.
“Packmother wanted me to come get you. There's another thing she wants you and your friend to kill.”
So there was a reason that Venus was here. Dynamite hadn't gone off very far from the pack, utilizing his own free time to be surrounded by just trees rather than bickering family members. Not too long ago, Packmother had allowed him and Mushroom a certain small amount of area to roam in: a symbol of their growing trust, Dynamite supposed. If one of the Razors were here, it was usually to bring him back for something important.
“Okay,” Dynamite said, mentally trying to abandon what he was previously doing. Venus tilted his head in the direction they were to walk, and Dynamite followed him.
As the two of them traveled through the woods, the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet was the most resonant sound filtering through the air.
And so, Dynamite’s mind began to wander.
He didn't like it when his mind wandered.
It was always the same group of things he thought about first: the lockdown drill, the apocalypse, the people he killed to stay alive.
Then, after his mind had exhausted itself of those, all he could think about was Mushroom.
How she looked when she fought alongside him. The way she nuzzled him affectionately back when they were staying at her place. Her voice every time she said, “I like the face you make.” Her wide, glowing red eyes. Her smile that he didn’t see that often. The carrion he had tasted on her tongue, back when–
“It was platonic,” Dynamite remembered himself saying.
He wanted to taste the carrion again.
Suddenly, Dynamite was pulled out of his thoughts and back to reality when Venus spoke.
“I brought Dynamite,” the Razor said. They had reached the clearing where the pack resided, and Dynamite could feel the eyes of the other bestials on him. Despite all of the piercing gazes, Dynamite stood tall, as he had mostly gotten used to them.
“There you are,” Packmother said, her voice strong and commanding as it normally was.
Around the clearing stood other pack members. Pana was eyeing Dynamite, her face painted with its usual permanent annoyance, but she didn't seem ticked off. Harry stood to Packmother’s right, his arms crossed, his hard gaze boring into Dynamite in a way that felt somewhat uncomfortable. Dolly was there too, staring at Dynamite like he was a funny seashell she had just found (she did that a lot). There were other Razors nearby as well, but they weren't as engaged. Then, to Packmother’s left, standing awkwardly with her arms at her sides, was–
“We have been working on a better plan to kill these things.”
–Mushroom.
She locked eyes with Dynamite the moment he saw her, deep red on forest green. Her gaze softened, and she warmed her previously numb expression with a small smile.
Then, Packmother began to explain.
“Mushroom and Dynamite. For this, let's say, mission, we will be killing a creature that's been living by the nearby lake. The wildlife there has gone silent, and we cannot use that as a water source. For the upkeep of our territory, it has to go.” The large Razor then gestured towards her eldest son. “This time, Harry will supervise you alongside Pana and Dolly.”
“Why not Billie?” Dolly interjected, one paw fiddling with a flower.
Packmother sighed.
“You know why, Dolly.”
Dolly’s eyes widened in recognition, then the woman seemed to visibly deflate. She didn't say anything else.
“Since Mushroom has an advantage dropping down from trees, we have a designated attack point where she will wait to ambush the thing. Dynamite, you are going to lead it there.”
Dynamite’s eyes widened, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. He wasn't that fast–was he really that replaceable? The thoughts clouded his head, but he shoved it all down with a gulp: he couldn't go against Packmother's word.
He looked from her piercing gaze back to Mushroom’s, who was now looking at him comfortingly. You'll be fine, her eyes seemed to say, years of interpreting her expressions reassuring him.
“Uh, do you guys still need me here?” Venus said, who still stood alongside Dynamite. “Sorry for interrupting.”
Packmother sighed, and flicked one of her paws dismissively. “Yes, yes, you can leave.”
As the young Razor scampered away into the woods, Dynamite approached the group, now uneasily wringing his paws.
Every time they did this–went on these missions–it felt like another roll of chance with death.
He stopped when he was right in front of Mushroom, looking up at her nervously. His friend met his gaze, and, after a brief moment, puffed a small cloud of air into Dynamite's face. Dynamite smelled the piercing stench, and his face scrunched up in disgust, causing Mushroom to let out a small giggle.
He looked at her, a comically uncomfortable frown now on his face. Her smile widened, though she didn't say anything out loud.
I like the face you make.
Nearby, Packmother was still speaking. “Harry, I'm putting my trust in you to make sure nothing goes wrong. I expect nothing less of you.” Dynamite wasn't looking at the tall male razor, but he did hear a “Yes, mother,” which he felt translated to I'll Be Sure To Bring Back Their Corpses If They Die.
Then, about a minute later, Dynamite found himself walking through the woods once more, this time alongside his best friend and sandwiched on either side by the razors: Harry led them in the front, while Dolly and Pana stalked behind them. They were going to survey the area before going in to kill the monster that resided there, aiming to be as safe as possible.
Dynamite was attached to Mushroom by hand, worried about future events. A soft breeze filtered through the trees, ruffling his outer coat of fur, though the feeling didn't bring any comfort to him.
Mushroom’s clawed hand squeezed Dynamite's paw as she spoke: “Packmother was teaching me how to fight. At least, I think that's what she was doing… It was mostly her yelling at me that I was doing everything wrong, but I think I've got it.”
Dynamite’s eyes widened. “That's what you were doing? Special lessons from the head of the pack? There's no way,” he exclaimed, surprised. He was used to other members being assigned to teach them things like when Gil had taught him how to track rodents a couple days earlier.
“It's because she's seen how other kinds of objects fight.”
Dynamite and Mushroom looked up in surprise as Harry joined in. He didn't look at them, still walking through the woods as though he had them memorized, but he had clearly been listening.
“Mother–Packmother–travelled a lot before settling down in these woods. Especially with Warhammer. Not even I know everything she knows,” Harry explained. “She cares a lot about these monsters getting killed. We all do. Don't get used to it.”
Mushroom nodded to his words, though Dynamite still couldn't help but feel a bit jealous.
He shook his head–no, he was not jealous for not being the main person to kill giant assimilated monstrosities.
Instead, Dynamite focused his gaze on the trees ahead, counting down the seconds before he would inevitably be running for his life.
.+*—*+.
Whatever it was, it was probably some sort of carnivorous plant when it was still an object.
With a snapping mouth and long, thin teeth, paired with 6 long, bug-like limbs, the assimilation looked terrifying, if not more so than the last thing Mushroom had killed. The length and nimbleness of the legs reminded Dynamite of a water strider–the little bugs used to skirt around a pond in his suburban neighborhood, picking off food from the water’s surface.
It stood at the edge of the lake, its toothed head bent down as it tore at the skin of some dead corpse–Dynamite couldn't tell what it was. Flies buzzed around the mangled body as its blood seeped into the lake next to it, staining the water a blood red. As for the lake itself, it already looked relatively stagnant. Almost like swamp water, no small waves rose at its surface, and the color appeared muddy and sluggish.
Dynamite stood a ways away, peeking out from behind a thin oak tree, watching anxiously with his fur standing on its end. The pointed mandibles of the thing looked disgusting as it pierced the flesh of its kill, and it reminded Dynamite of what he used to do to the objects he killed, back when this all started. It almost made him want to gag.
Thankfully, it hadn't seen him yet.
From where Dynamite stood, he could only think of two options to catch its attention: Throw a rock, or yell as loud as he could. Both seemed equally terrifying to him, and, instead of picking one, he did nothing but mull over everything that could go wrong. What if throwing a rock would anger it and make it run faster? What if yelling would make Mushroom think he was dying or something, and cause her to abandon the ambush spot?
However, his thoughts ceased when a low, fleshy buzz pierced the air.
The assimilation had abandoned its meal, and its head was pointed straight at Dynamite.
Holy shit.
The next moment, Dynamite had completely abandoned the tree, sprinting across the forest floor.
He could feel the thumping of a 6-legged beast chasing him. The noises emanating from the thing were disgusting: low growls and gurgly whimpers together made it sound like a dying person, only moments away from passing away.
Of course it had spotted him, Dynamite thought, cursing at himself. He had a red frame, a yellow fuse, and bright pink winter fur. Compared with decaying, brownish trees, he probably looked like a bold headline on a blank page. The oak tree would never have been a good cover in the first place.
Stop thinking about that! He thought to himself, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran. He occasionally stepped on a twig or hard pebble, which hurt, but he kept running. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, fueling his panicked sprint for his life.
Behind him, the massive water strider growled, the noise reminding Dynamite just how close behind him it was. He tried to focus on the trees whipping past him and the air that lashed across his face, but the thumping of the creature’s legs kept his mind from being anything but panic.
What if I'm running in the wrong direction? He thought, his eyes beginning to burn from keeping them wide open for so long. Tears welled, dripping past his face as he darted between trees.
He was going to die. He was going to die, and everything was going to be for nothing. His name would be written in dust to the world, because he was just some idiot senior who got roped into an apocalypse and kidnapped by wild outer-ringers without any direction in his life.
A senior who never made it to graduation, even though he had been a few weeks away.
He could just imagine how his body would look as it got torn apart.
SLICE
Dynamite took in a sharp breath, thinking he had finally been caught. This is it for me, he thought, though the adrenaline made it so he couldn't feel anything. His heart pounded in his chest as he slowed his sprint to a stop.
However, after a moment of panicked breathing, he realized he wasn't injured. No part of his object had any blemishes, and he still had all four limbs.
Dynamite whirled around. His eyes widened in astonishment.
The slice had not been the assimilation, but Mushroom.
A dark, red-eyed shape that had plunged from the branches above, Mushroom moved like a living weapon, her claws cleaving through the bug’s outer shell. It let out a piercing scream, but was cut off when she bit into its throat, her sharp mandibles ripping it open as she tore away.
Within a moment, it fell to the ground, its body thumping against the forest floor.
Dynamite stared in awe, his mouth agape.
In one fluid motion, Mushroom rose to her feet, wiping the infected blood off her face. She blinked and looked around, as though she had just woken up from a dream.
Her wide red eyes landed on him.
“Are you okay?”
Dynamite took in a deep breath. Then another one. Then another one. He realized he wasn't breathing deeply, instead air entered his lungs in short bursts, as though he was still being chased. His heart was still pounding in his chest.
Calm down, he thought to himself, but he couldn't find it in him to be able to. Mushroom just saved your life. You have nothing to be afraid of.
But he didn't feel afraid. In fact, any trace of the terror he had felt moments before had completely vanished.
So why was he freaking out?
“Well, that went well!”
A voice sounded nearby, and Dynamite identified it to be Dolly’s. The Razor emerged from the trees, shortly followed by Pana and Harry.
“Never thought I'd see the day you actually grow a spine. Really, I think this is the first time it's taken this short.” Pana’s normally displeased attitude was gone, and she seemed… actually impressed.
Mushroom’s face seemed to heat up from the compliment. Realizing she had said something genial, Pana then added with a scowl, “Don't get used to it.”
“It's time we head back,” Harry pointed out. “Assuming we're done here.”
Dolly glanced at the assimilation’s already-rotting corpse, and exclaimed, “It looks pretty dead to me!”
Harry nodded, and motioned for the group to leave. Pana and Dolly followed behind him, and Mushroom did as well, before pausing. She turned around, gazing at Dynamite confusedly, whose feet rooted him to the ground.
“Are you coming?” After receiving no response, Mushroom continued. “I understand if you don't want to talk right now, since that seemed honestly terrifying, but… are you sure you're okay?”
Dynamite didn't meet her gaze.
All he could look at were her lips, moving as she spoke.
He couldn't form his thoughts into words.
“We need to go,” Mushroom said, and finally her words reached him, just enough for Dynamite to start moving his legs.
He walked until he reached Mushroom’s side, and the two of them caught up with the other Razors, who had stopped to wait for them. Once the group was united, they slowly made their way through the woods back to the rest of the pack–back to their home. The Razors were saying something, but Dynamite didn't hear it.
Dynamite’s thoughts were a scrambled mess.
Are you okay? Mushroom's voice repeated in his head. Over and over, her words swam through his head, random words scrambled together from everything she'd ever told him. You know I'm bad at talking about feelings. You're doing exactly what you need to be doing. They'll kill us if I don't. I like the face you make.
It was platonic.
Dynamite’s own voice cut through the fog.
It was platonic.
His heart still thumped in his chest. Mushroom was tantalizingly close to him as they walked, close enough to touch, but to Dynamite, the air felt electric, and he didn't dare look up at her.
Why couldn't he look up at her?
It was platonic.
His heart skipped a beat.
What if it wasn't?
It felt like everything came crashing down into one. Every stray thought fit together like a puzzle, and Dynamite could finally think. The trees had returned to focus, and he could feel the leaves beneath his feet and the breeze that filtered through the trees.
Oh shoot, it's not platonic.
His eyes widened, and he didn't realize he had started nervously grinding his teeth together as he walked.
It's not platonic. It's not platonic. Holy fucking shit.
Mushroom was still right next to him. And she had absolutely no idea.
I love my best friend. I'm in love with my best friend. Who I've known since I was little.
His breath caught in his chest.
How am I supposed to tell her?