Chapter Text
---13:32---
> yo sword, u free today?
---14:02---
> swooorrddd, pick up
---14:21---
>whz going on? dad said venomshanks not picking up the phone
---14:34---
> Sword? u ok dude?
> sword?
> come on man this isn't funny
> sword
> sword.
---15:01---
> dad's getting worried. neither of you are pikcing up the phone
> sword please
> sword
Rocket grumbles as he stuffs his phone in his pocket. Sword had been MIA all day. A bitter paranoia built up in his chest as he walked along Crossroads. It was a normal day outside. The city buzzed with its usual life; street vendors yelled across packed sidewalks, neon signs flickered against buildings, and all the music that bled from open shop doors into the streets below. The overhead rails rattled every few minutes as transports streamed past above the roads.
And yet Rocket couldn't stop feeling like everyone else knew something he didn't.
His phone buzzed, but it was just spam. Nothing from Sword.
Rocket clicked his tongue and shoved the device deeper into his pocket hard enough to nearly crack the screen.
"C'mon man. . ."
As he walked, he glanced at one of the giant screens hanging off the side of a building, before it suddenly shifted from ads for a hot sauce that catches fire to static.
The streets around him quieted, seemingly happening to other screens around the city. Rocket blinked to see that a news anchor appeared, visibly tense despite the forced professionalism plastered across the news person's face.
"Authorities are still searching for the missing celebrity duo Flipside after both performers failed to appear at last night's concert in Playground. Officials currently suspect possible foul play."
Images flashed across the screen. Crowds gathered outside barricades with empty backstage rooms. A lot of panicked fans.
The anchor continued.
"In other news, Ban Lands remains under emergency lockdown after the unexplained disappearance of Ban Hammer early this morning. Without the Warden's oversight, widespread prison riots and breakouts have plagued the region-"
Rocket frowned.
". . . The hell's going on today?"
The people around him murmured amongst themselves as Rocket quickly speedwalked away. Something was going on today, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. So much so he barely noticed his shadow stretching unnaturally long beneath the streetlights.
At first he thought it was just the angle.
And then it moved.
The shadow on the pavement twisted slowly- his silhouette, yes- but a wide smile formed from the darkness. Rocket stumbled backwards in shock, bumping into someone by accident.
"What the-"
The shadow giggled, but not a normal, creepy laugh. It felt gargled and wet, almost like the speaker was drowning in something.
"We frightened you."
Rocket's blood ran cold immediately. He knew this voice from somewhere, but he couldn't quite-
"It's Darkheart, Rocket."
Darkheart. . . Right, he'd seen this deity on occasion around Zuka, but he never personally talked to them. Darkheart smiled from the ground beneath his feet. His shadow warped around, almost glitching in a way. However, despite their usual overwhelming presence. . .
They looked weak.
"We are sorry. . ."
They said softly as Rocket stared at them in disbelief.
"Sorry for what?"
Darkheart tilted their head. The street around Rocket kept moving normally. Nobody looked over. Nobody reacted. People walked directly through the shadow without noticing anything was wrong. In fact, they were giving him weird looks, so Rocket started to move, hoping to ignore this. But his shadow continued to follow him, as any shadow should.
Darkheart giggled again, quieter this time.
"We did not mean for it to become so loud."
Rocket felt his stomach twist.
". . . What?"
Their smile widened.
"Get home, Rocket."
The giggling started again, their throat sounding raw and in pain.
"Please get home."
Rocket's hands curled into fists. He knew Darkheart was close with Venomshank, so maybe. . .
"What happened to Sword?"
For the first time, Darkheart stopped laughing, and the shadow rippled violently. Then-
"We are sorry."
Rocket's pulse spiked.
"What happened to him?"
Darkheart's grin stretched too wide to be human in the corner of his eye.
"You should not stay outside when the gods begin starving."
The streetlights above them flickered. For a split second, Rocket could've sworn every shadow on the street turned to look at him. Then Darkheart sank back into his shadow entirely.
Gone.
The noise of the city slammed back all at once.
Car horns and voices and footsteps.
Rocket kept walking aimlessly as he stared at the ground beneath him. Then his phone buzzed. He nearly ripped it out of his pocket.
An unknown number.
He'd usually just let unknown numbers ring, but he answered it at its first ring, desperate.
"Sword?"
Silence.
Not even static. Just. . . Nothing
Rocket pulled the phone slightly away from his ear and checked the screen, thinking the call had disconnected. But now, it was still there. His grip tightened.
"Sword, if this is you being stupid, I swear-"
Then a soft sound came from the speaker, Rocket ducking into a quiet alleyway to try and hear better.
It sounded like someone breathing.
". . . Hello?"
He tried again, slower this time. The breath on the other end hitched, like whoever was there was trying to remember how lungs worked. A voice spoke, faintly and weak.
"Rocket. . ."
His stomach dropped.
That wasn't Sword.
Well- actually, it sounded like Sword, but something felt wrong. It felt. . .
"Who is this?"
Rocket demanded, already backing up without realizing it, his jacket pressed against the wall behind him.
A pause.
Then a quiet, almost confused reply.
". . . We don't know?"
The word we made his skin prickle.
Rocket looked up instinctively, scanning the crowd at the alley's exit.
Nobody was looking at him.
Nobody cared.
The city kept moving, completely unaware of what was going on behind the other side of the line.
"I'm looking for Sword."
Rocket said carefully. He couldn't tell if this was Sword, or a weird inphernal who just so happened to sound like him and know his name and number.
"Put him on."
A soft sound came through the line again, like laughter trying to form and failing halfway.
"We are trying to find him too."
Rocket's throat went dry.
". . . What do you mean?"
The voice on the phone hesitated. Then, quieter. . .
"He's screaming."
A distant distortion crackled through the call, like reality itself bending around the words. Anger started to fill Rocket's vision.
"What did you do to him!?"
The answer came immediately this time without a pause.
"We didn't do anything, Rocket. . ."
The voice was pitiful; it reminded Rocket of when he had first met Sword, first heard him sob.
"But something is inside him now. . . That is not him."
Rocket's fingers went cold around the phone.
"No."
He said, more to himself than anything.
"No, that's not funny. Where is he?"
The voice on the line shifted again as it giggled, the ever-so-faint sound of feathers rustling against each other.
". . . Craterdust. Where the winds blow."
"C-Craterdust?? Why the hell would he be there!?"
The voice on the other end began to breathe much heavier than last time.
"It was. . . The first place he. . . Ran too. The others were not much safer. Here was not safe."
Rocket gulped. He didn't know if he should believe the voice, not wanting to go back to Craterdust all for a false lead. He still had to get home to his dad and-
"Rocket-"
The voice sharply twisted. The airheaded tone it had before was replaced with the loud sound of his name being called out during a choked-out sob. It was guttural, and pained, and oh so like-
"I-it-s in me- its in my br-brain- head- mind- I cant-"
Like Sword.
"Run- runnn- hide from the Gods- they- he- Rocket-"
"Sword!? SWORD WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"
"I can hear it- they're scratching at my skull-! UGh- help me-"
"I will- I WILL! Just- where are you?? A photo, anything?? Sword-"
"Somewhere in- Crater- the sky is falling on us. I won't- be here much longer- get out of there- Rocke-"
The line went dead. Disconnected.
. . .
Rocket runs as fast as he can back home. He had to go back to Craterdust Capital.