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Waxwell, naturally, liked Halloween.
It was a no brainer, of course. Being the holiday of trickery, Waxwell thrived in the environment. While normally his plans ended up in smoke, Halloween was a chance for him to take advantage of the mischievous atmosphere. Toons were naturally more on edge, which meant it was easier for him to scare unsuspecting victims. He saved all of his most cunning plans for the holiday. It was like Christmas had come early!
Plus, he liked the candy.
“Waxwell!”
Currently gorging himself on the contents of a bucket of candy, Waxwell turned his head over to the toon who had entered the room. While it used to be the reception for Gardenview when the place was still operational, these days it was more of a glorified storage closet.
The capricious candle felt a grin forming across his face as Gourdy approached him. He would be so mad that Waxwell had found his secret stash—it was hidden away under the register, clearly to keep prying toons away. It was a noble attempt, but Gourdy just couldn’t match Waxwell’s cunning genius in the end. It was like taking candy from a baby—literally!
“What are you doing in here?” Gourdy’s eyes scanned over to the bright green bucket in Waxwell’s hand. His eyes squinted like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Is that my candy...?”
Yes, yes...! This was it...!
“Oh, was it yours? Gosh, sorry!” Waxwell shovelled down a remaining handful of dandy corn, theatrically smacking his lips. “I just had no idea!”
“You really don’t mind expired candy? Well, thanks for not letting it go to waste! I don’t think any other toon would want it. Besides Yatta, but Sprout tells me I need to stop giving her so much candy...”
Hold on, expired? Expired...?!
“Wh— Wait, when did this stuff go bad?!”
“September.”
“Well, that’s not so—”
“—of last year.”
Waxwell promptly spat out the remnants of the dandy corn he was shovelling down, earning a giggle from Gourdy.
“Pth—God, why would you even keep this around?!”
“Hehe, I guess I must have forgotten about it.” Gourdy replied, “It's been super busy for me lately... and for all of the Halloween toons, of course!”
Waxwell scoffed at that.
“Busy doing what? Walking around, scaring people in cardboard masks? Please. Some of us real antagonists have to work for our results. You practically get handed them on a silver platter!”
Gourdy thought that Waxwell just being crabby because it was the third year in a row he refused to teach Waxwell the secret to his perfect scares. That and the expired candy. But he had long since learnt to keep his critiques to himself around the candle. He settled for a sigh instead.
“Whatever you say, Waxwell... Would you mind getting off the counter now? I need to dig out some old board games I swore I’d give back to Toodles.”
“Have those been here since last September too?”
Gourdy’s silence was telling.
“Heh. Fine, I’m done here anyway.” Waxwell hopped off the counter, dusting his fingers free from the sticky crumbs. He paused for a moment, checking his non-existent nailbeds, before shimmying closer to Gourdy, murmuring into his ear.
“By the way—”
“He’s hanging out in the lobby by the red bench.”
“Wh- How did you even know what I was—oh, forget it!”
Waxwell no sooner left the room, sauntering off with his exaggerated gait. Gourdy could feel a headache coming on, and it wasn’t from last night’s experiment with turning himself into a living jack-o-lantern to scare toons. Whatever nuisance Waxwell was planning to cause for Soulvester was going to make it a long, long day.
—-
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my arch nemesis himself!”
“Hm. Waxwell.”
Soulvester gave the candle a curt nod. Waxwell could feel his wick beginning to ignite. While almost no other toon ever took him seriously around the place, Soulvester was always ready to appreciate Waxwell for the dastardly villain he truly was—Whatever that word meant!
“So, what have you been up to lately? Finally putting those ghostly abilities of yours to good use?”
“Thou will be sorry to know that my ghoulish disposition is reserved solely for protecting my fellow toons. I derive no pleasure in arousing fright, unlike you.”
Did Soulvester have to speak like he swallowed a dictionary? Waxwell was far too busy burning Brightney’s books to waste his time reading them. Still, he came here for a reaction and he was gonna get one.
“You’re just trying to bore me to death with your fancy words ‘cause you know you won’t be able to stop my evil genius.”
“Waxwell, I hold no ill will towards you as a fellow toon. But as an antagonist, it is my duty to stop you should you intend to raise a ruckus. I am confident in my ability to smite you.”
“Hah! Don’t sound so sure of yourself. Who says you’ll be able to stop me?”
“Perhaps you are right. But often I do not need to do anything to stop you.” Waxwell could see Soulvester’s eyes crinkle in what must have been a smile under that armour. “After all, thou prove thine own plans a most worthy adversary.”
“Umm...”
“He’s saying that you’ll mess your own plans up before he even has time to say ‘Boo’.”
Waxwell jumped at the sudden voice behind him.
“Connie!”
“Dear sister.”
Connie had clearly been eavesdropping on their conversation, having just phased out of her invisibility. Waxwell hated the stupid grin on her face—she was just as bad as Gigi, always looking to get a rise out of him. If she spent half as much effort into as she did her pranks into channelling her antagonistic streak, Waxwell would have some serious competition.
“’Sup, dweebs? Still doing the whole rivalry thing? Man, I have got to say, I’m glad Soulvester finally found someone just as dedicated to the larp as him. It brings a ghostly tear to my eye, truly.”
Thankfully for Connie, Waxwell never really learnt to ignore her teasing.
“Hey! I’m not a larper! I’m an evil genius! I just haven’t had the right chance to prove it yet!”
“Mhm, ‘shure.”
“Hm. Thou insist I am a ‘larper’, although you perfectly decipher my archaic tongue. What then, pray tell, does that make you?”
“Someone unfortunate enough to have to listen to you talking like that every day? I’ve learned to adapt.” Connie paused for a second, in thought. “Well, I guess it isn’t all bad, though. You tend to keep some of the more annoying toons occupied this time of year, saves us all the headache.”
Connie looked pointedly at Waxwell, who shrunk under her gaze. The twinge he felt in his chest at the comment must have been annoyance. Was she still upset about the Queens of Mischief concert thing? He hadn’t even succeeded! If anything, he’s the one who should be getting sympathy. Getting electrocuted hurts.
“Still though, you could do it without the theatrics. Man, are you ever gonna take that armour off?”
Soulvester gasped, scandalised at the suggestion. You’d think Connie would tell him to try out Christmas for a change.
“Surely you jest?! I would never dream of doffing my armour—it is a part of who I am! To suggest such tomfoolery—! It’s unthinkable!”
“Tomfoolery as a word wasn’t even around during knight times, dude. It sounds like you need to hit the books.”
“You... Listen, sister of mine—!”
It wasn’t a surprise to Waxwell just how attached he was to the armour. No toon had ever seen Soulvester without it on- it wasn’t uncommon for kids to assume he was the suit of armour back when the show was still running. Waxwell wouldn't be surprised if he showered in the damn thing.
While the two bickered, a genius idea began formulating in Waxwell’s mind. The mention of Soulvester’s armour filled him with a spark of inspiration—you could almost see the lightbulb above his head! No, wait, that was just his wick igniting. He hurriedly snuffed it out, as to not reveal his plotting. Thankfully, the conversation had quickly devolved into a back and forth between the two siblings, Waxwell’s presence long forgotten.
Waxwell had to remind himself to stifle his glee, skulking off unnoticed back into the lobby and towards his lair. A stroke of evil inspiration like this was exactly what he needed to get out of his rut! He’d show Soulvester just what he was made of—show Connie that he was a force to be reckoned with—heck, even show Gourdy that he was worthy of being taught the secret to his Halloween trickery!
...Not that he needed the help, of course!
---
After hours of scheming in his lair, Waxwell had finally perfected his evil plan. His own evil genius was scary at times, truly. All of those cans of pop he stole from Poppy’s room had worked wonders on keeping him focused. He shuddered at the thought of just what she would do to him once she found her secret stash missing, but that was a problem for another time.
Flipping through the pages of his notebook, he ran over the plan one more time...
First, he would steal some sandpaper from the craft siblings. Well, he didnt really need to steal it—Goob would believe whatever half-baked lie he told him.
“I didn’t really peg you as the crafty type, Wax!”
“Oh, I’m crafty alright... hehehe..”
“Well, sure, I guess... I’m just happy you’re happy! ”
“Sure, Goob, whatever, Just no happy hugs this time, I’m up to some serious business... Hey—! HEY! I SAID NO HAPPY HUGS—!”
...Secondly, after wringing himself out of the cuddle attack, he would need one of Shrimpo’s anger management bricks.
“I HATE HOW YOU LEAVE CHEWED UP BOOKS AROUND FOR ME TO TRIP ON!”
“Sniff... Y-you’re right, Shrimpo.. I’m just awful...! I-I’m sorry—- Wahhh!
“I HATE HOW YOU’RE APOLOGISING! AND I HATE HOW I KNOW YOU’LL JUST GO AND DO IT AGAIN!”
Thankfully, the toon was too engrossed in his... conversation... to notice it missing.
And third on the list...
He would need Soulvester’s helmet.
The previous two tasks were trivial, but nothing held a candle to this. Few toons had seen Soulvester without his signature armour on. Waxwell had to admit he was curious—Soulvester always seemed so impenetrable within the metal suit. Would he look like his sister? Or was something else truly terrifying hiding under that armour, befitting of his ghostly status?
Waxwell would find out soon enough.
It was after an ichor run when the perfect opportunity presented itself. It had been rough from the start—whatever junk Dandy had decided to give them was not cutting it. They were low on supplies, several toons had near misses with Twisteds, and a few nearly got hit.
As a result, Soulvester found himself parrying a considerable number of hits. It had clearly taken a toll on the knight—exiting the elevator, he was more sluggish than calm in his actions. Ribecca managed to convince Soulvester to let her check up on him, including whatever ghostly wounds he might have gotten during the run. And for that to happen, Soulvester would need to take his helmet off.
Waxwell knew that Soulvester kept his armour in his room on the rare occasion he took it off from eavesdropping on his conversations in the elevator; he had the habit of mounting it on a proper stand, always so prim and proper.
The social faux pas of entering another toon’s room without permission was enough to keep most prying eyes and hands out of its reach. Unfortunately for Soulvester, however, Waxwell was no ordinary toon. He was an antagonist—and barging into someone’s room unannounced was practically a routine for him!
The door to Soulvester’s room creaked as he opened it. Thankfully, nobody was around to notice—Waxwell could feel his heart rate rising as he stepped into the room. Waxwell’s ideas of it being some kind of medieval dungeon were snuffed out—the place was unusually barren, home to sparse furnishings. But the real centrepiece of the room was the armour stand.
It felt unusually commanding, standing beside Soulvester’s bed. Guess he does take it off to sleep, at least...
Waxwell wrung his hands together in delight. He imagined Soulvester’s face once he walked in on his precious armour ruined at the hands of his rival. Just thinking about it was thrilling enough!
Taking the unexpectedly heavy piece of armour off the stand, Waxwell pulled out his supplies from earlier and began to get to work. He’d give Soulvester a surprise worthy of being called his arch nemesis.... and then noone would laugh at him!
---
Waxwell was seriously too good at the whole antagonist thing. He had just finished his little masterpiece—working on limited time, it was a rush job, but he was certain whatever he had done to the helmet was more than enough to elicit a reaction from Soulvester. He grinned to himself, resisting the urge to pat himself on the back.
As if on cue, the door creaked open.
“Waxwell.”
Upon hearing his name called, Waxwell whipped around, a smug smirk plastered on his face. He opened his mouth to gloat, but the look on Soulvester’s face shut him up quick.
Soulvester was standing mere inches behind him, eyes narrowed in anger. He had his soul sword clutched tightly in one hand, thrusting it menacingly at Waxwell’s chest, stopping mere inches before his chest. He let out an undignified yelp at the action, scurrying back before hitting the wall behind him in a painful thud.
Waxwell had expected Soulvester to be mad, sure, irritated even, but not 'I’m going to make your insides your outsides if you don’t explain yourself in three seconds' level mad. If Waxwell wasn’t so pre-occupied being scared, he’d have time to gawk at seeing Soulvester helmet-less for the first time. He had never seen Soulvester this serious before—being the object of his anger didn’t feel as good as he thought when he had a sword pointed at his chest. Was it really such a big deal?!
“This is a new low, even for you. I never thought you would be so cowardly as to besiege my private quarters and tamper with my belongings,” Soulvester continued, peering around at what Waxwell was trying desperately to cover up. He let out a heavy sigh, seemingly remembering himself, lowering his sword and slotting it back into the scabbard. “Whatever you have done, it would be wise to disclose to me now.
“I didn’t do anything! ...Nothing that would require a crime scene to happen! Listen, I know you’re probably mad right now, but...“
Soulvester narrowed his eyes at the candle, which extinguished the candle's fervour quickly. Peering around to see what Waxwell had been trying (and failing) to hide behind himself the entire time, his eyes flickered in recognition once he finally saw the result of Waxwell’s handiwork. Hurriedly pushing Waxwell aside, he picked up his helmet from where it sat on the floor.
“My helmet... it... it..”
Waxwell braced for the worst, internally starting to apologise for his past sins and promise that if he got into heaven, he’d at least be a fun comedic relief addition.
“It...?”
“Why, it... it looks as new as the day I received it...!” Soulvester inspected the piece of armour, turning it over in disbelief. “The buffing on this is immaculate—I can scarcely recognise the old scratches that used to marr my visage....”
“W-What?”
“Was this your doing, Waxwell? Oh my, you- you even got the dents out...!” Soulvester gasped as he tilted the Helmet around, his delight obvious in his tone.
Waxwell felt a spark of annoyance run through him once he had realised what had happened. Whatever he did to Soulvester’s armour had made it look better, not worse! And by a large margin! But how? He had rubbed at the thing with sandpaper, for crying out loud! Even the BRICK was a bust!
“Of course... it makes sense now. The wax from thine fingertips has created a polish most refined. Such craftsmanship...”
Waxwell wanted to hit his head against the wall. Of course his plans went up in flames. Over something so... stupid! He wanted badly to deny it all, to tell Soulvester that he was actually trying to harm him, not help him! But try as he might, he couldn’t find the willpower to ruin the moment when Soulvester looked so... happy about the whole thing. It felt good to hear Soulvester praise his work, even if it was unintentional. Waxwell felt unsettled at just how easy it was for the knight to emotionally unarm him.
Waxwell deliberated over what to do. Would it be so bad to just play into it this one time..? Not that he would start doing this for every toon—Soulvester was a special case. Being the only one who actually treated him as the antagonist he was, even if it was painfully obvious that his schemes never went anywhere, Waxwell supposed it wouldn’t be too bad to let the dog have his day. Let the knight have his helmet...? Yeah, he could accept that as an excuse to act like a goody-two-shoes for once.
...Well, that and he really didn’t want to find out what it was like to be on Soulvester’s 'I’m going to make your insides your outsides' side. Clearing his throat, Waxwell swallowed his pride and finally responded.
“Of... of course..! I can’t have my arch nemesis walking around with banged-up armour! Just think of how it would make me look! You really should take care of it better! Hahah...”
It was an awful lie, even for Waxwell, but it seemed to do the trick.
“I suppose so... If this is your idea of a trick, then I may have to be more lenient with your villainy from now on. But why sneak into my room to do it...? If you wanted to help with the maintenance of my armour, thou could have simply asked.”
“It was a.... surprise! Yeah, you know! You Halloween toons are all about your surprises, or whatever! I've gotta keep some of my villainous flair intact!”
Soulvester’s scrutiny soon turned to amusement, and he let out a chuckle at the response, eyes crinkling in delight at the happy accident.
Huh, he really did look like Connie when he smiled. A much less annoying version of Connie, that was. While she was almost always giggling over her own private inside-jokes, seeing Soulvester smile was novel. It was something honest and vulnerable. How many other toons got to see Soulvester like this, Waxwell wondered?
Caught staring when Soulvester’s eyes met his, Waxwell strangely couldn’t look away. But this time, Soulvester was the sheepish one, clearing his throat before pulling his hair into his signature ponytail. Waxwell’s eyes followed the action as the knight finally shucked on his helmet again. Finally, the knight broke the awkward silence between the two of them.
“Ahem! I must say, while I don’t usually approve of your treacherous trickery, you have done well this time, Waxwell. Your excellent craftsmanship is truly appreciated. Although I must warn you—if you dare to touch my armour without permission again...”
Waxwell gulped at Soulvester’s tone, watching him curl his fingers around his soul sword threateningly.
“Y-yeah, okay.... you don't need to 'vanquish' me over it! Well, I mean, not like I'm scared of you or anything! We both know I’d win in a duel between us any day!”
“Coming from the toon who was begging for mercy at the hands of my sword mere moments prior?” Soulvester deadpanned. Waxwell began wishing he really did ruin Soulvester’s helmet after all. “Very well. It is getting late. I suggest thou return to thine own quarters. My own bedtime is drawing nearer; I will need some reprieve from today's adventure.”
Waxwell found himself huffing out a laugh at that response. Of course Soulvester would have a bedtime. Still, though. The day had taken a lot out of Waxwell. Catching some Z’s and putting this awkward encounter beside him sounded like a good idea for both of them, it sounded.
“Whatever. I guess I’ll see you around, Soulvester. Better be on the lookout, ‘cause who knows when I’ll strike next!”
Waxwell waved behind him nonchalantly as he exited the room, making sure he was out of Soulvester’s line of sight before speed-walking to the elevator and jamming the button to go up. That was not how he expected the interaction to go at all! But somehow, he couldn’t find himself to regret it this time.
If anything, he just hoped Soulvester wouldn’t tell anyone about the whole ordeal—he would never hear the end of it from Connie if she found out about this.
---
(Just out of earshot, Connie had been doing her best to stifle her laughter at what she just saw. While it would have been funny to see Waxwell face an angry Soulvester (and somewhat cathartic given his attempt at ruining the Queens of Mischief concert), this was way better than what she was hoping for. She internally thanked herself for not interfering when she caught Waxwell breaking into her brother's room; she hadn't seen Soulvester that happy in a while. Floating away and into the elevator, she wrung her hands together in delight. Gigi was going to love hearing about this!)