Dinner and My Death

by CamoArti

Chapter 2: Slingshot (leaving behind worth)

Summary:

Cafe shift. Lunch rush. Hyperlaser.
Which one of these things will push Slingshot over the edge?

Notes:

This chapter contains active (although mild) depictions of self harm and violence, as well as active suicidal thoughts. It is also the chapter with Biograft in it. yaaay (:

“Sling, where’s my order for table five? They keep flagging me.”

 

“Almost done, give me two minutes. Vine, I need more small platters ready.”

 

“The dish soap needs a refill, give me a second.”

 

“I need one 24 ounce mango-strawberry smoothie and two strawberry cakes for table twelve. Table two is ready to pay, they’ll be up here in a sec.”

 

“Here’s the sandwich for- shit, I forgot what table. The egg salad sandwich, where’s the slip… Yeah, table four. Here you go, Shuri.”

 

“Two assorted fruit platters, Sling, on your right.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

If the hustle and bustle in the kitchen wasn’t enough to signify that Thieves Rest was having a busy day today, then Slingshot wasn’t sure what else would.

 

Lunch rush. It’s always the lunch rush where they fall behind. Having only three total employees, one of which was himself, was great for communication efficiency, cost efficiency, and brand. For literally every else, though… not so much. 

 

There’s no lull in the orders like the beginning or end of the day. It’s just a straight flow of customers, each clamoring for their own meal. Slingshot barely has time to think about anything besides the food in front of him, which is annoying, because he has something else that’s been on his mind and now he can’t focus on his job or his mind.

 

“We got a broken plate, I’ll add that to the list.” Vine Staff grumbled, fishing a chipped plate out of the suds she was drowning them in. “It’s one of the square plates.”

 

“Dammit, of course. Throw it in the trash out back, I’ll write it down.” Sling cursed under his breath, flipping a grilled cheese sandwich on its other side.

It was always lunch rushes when things broke. Of course it was.

 

But Slingshot had a reputation to uphold! Thieve’s Rest is the highest rated cafe on not just this block, but the one over, and the next one, too. Inphernals of all kinds stop by, regardless of their origin, age, or income, and regardless of any day, weather, or wait. Sometimes, inphernals will come by for longer than he likes, but he serves anyone. He’ll let them in and feed them with a smile- or, well, Shuriken will do that. He’ll make the food, though.

 

Anyone can come in, but he wishes that they’d all get out faster.

 

Given how crowded the cafe was today, it was surprising that they were only slightly behind on orders. Every table was taken, and customers still streamed in for orders to-go. Profit was bound to be good, but before that, they had to fulfill the complete wall of orders.

 

I need the cutting board washed because I need to cut up the mangoes, the grilled cheese needs to be plated, someone’s ready to pay, I gotta get to the register, I need to pull out more frosting from the freezer, Hyperlaser- that’s not important, the grilled cheese-

 

It was exhausting.

 

There were days– and this might have very well been shaping up to be one– where the profit did not outweigh the strain of working from six in the morning to eight at night, nearly nonstop, every day but Saturday. These were the days with too many things breaking behind the counter, or with too many orders to reasonably keep up, or customers that felt the need to be nothing but aggravating for as long as he could take it-

 

Do NOT think about Coil. He warned himself, gritting his teeth and sliding the freshly plated grilled cheese across the countertop, all the way to the end that Shuriken picked up orders from. Out of sight, out of mind. Coil was out of sight. Coil was not on his mind.

 

…The point was, the little things built up over the day. And while he wasn’t dealing with any particularly bad customers today, he was more than a little tired from having to make back-to-back overlapping meal orders for almost two hours.

 

Damn the lunch ruch.

 

Shuriken stepped back into the kitchen with urgency but no enthusiasm, taping two new orders to the wall and picking up the grilled cheese plate. “You got that sugar-dusted raspberry thing ready for Table Five yet? And two new orders for those pink cupcakes. You want me to get those outta the-”

 

“Yeah, grab the frosting, and here’s the raspberry tart.” Slingshot pushed the plate towards his brother. “Swear on the swords, it is way too busy today, just- agh, you know?”

 

Vine looked at him tiredly, and Shuriken mumbled something that sounded close to agreement. Slingshot felt a guilty sensation beginning to pool in the bottom of his stomach.

 

“...You know what, you guys mind if we close for a sec after lunch rush just to, like, recoup?”

 

His siblings looked at him like he had promised them three years of paid time off.

 

“Yes, please.” Vine begged with pleading eyes. 

 

“I need a break so bad, my feet are killing me.” Shuriken groaned, rolling his head backwards for extra emphasis.

 

So dramatic. Sling huffed, but nodded with as natural of a smile his job allowed.

 

“M’kay, yeah, we’ll talk about it in twenty minutes. Still gotta get through the eighty trials that is this pile of orders.”

 

Shuriken groaned again, but took the plate and stepped back out into the cafe.

 

Sling immediately regretted setting the time for twenty minutes and not, say, five minutes, or two, or right now, but more work meant more money, so he popped his joints with a quick arm rotation and got back to work.

 

The twenty minutes did not feel like twenty minutes. And that’s because it wasn’t twenty minutes– Sling bumped the timer back by another ten to give customers time to leave, much to the chagrin of his siblings. But as the time passed, customers stopped constantly streaming into the cafe, and eventually the guests who occupied tables got up, paid, and left, so within the thirty minutes, all three of Thieves Rest’s employees sat behind the counter, slumped over in the empty restaurant. If Shuriken’s story from last night held any merit, then he imagined this was what Hyperlaser looked like after quitting his job. Except Slingshot still had a job, and it was working him down to the bone.

 

Not like it was anyone’s fault but his own. And he was proud of his status as the owner of a well-loved cafe. Sure, it hadn’t been reviewed by anyone of high status, or even medium status, but the fact was that Slingshot, Vine Staff and Shuriken had a put-together act that left 90% of customers satisfied. (Which was true! Check the store page.)

 

“Shuri, go flip the sign to closed.” Sling shoved his face into his hands, rubbing out all the stress his facial muscles still carried. The act felt soothing and addicting; he wouldn’t stop for as long as he had to. “Before someone else comes in.”

 

“Me? Go make Vine do it, I’ve been walking around from table to table all day.” Shuri grumbled. His sister gasped in mild offense.

 

“And I’ve been restocking the freezer and washing the dishes and prepping ingredients! No, Sling, you do it.” She scoffed, voice partially muffled from her face being pressed against the counter. She placed her hands on top of her head, as if to defend her from any further orders.

 

“Wh- no, I’m the one actually making all the orders and taking their payment. Shuri, just flip the sign.” Sling sighed.

 

Shuriken scowled, but got up and shambled over to the door.

 

“Swords…” Sling swore under his breath. It wasn’t out of any particular frustration, he just… needed a second.

 

Sometimes– and it wasn’t often, but it did happen– Slingshot debated dropping the bakery idea and working something a little more manageable. Don’t get him wrong; physically, he could absolutely handle the workload of baking and cooking and serving for hours. He might as well have been spawned for the purpose of making food, he was just that good. But mentally…

 

At least I chose my job. He pressed himself against the countertop harder, as if that would cool him down and rest him any faster. Can’t imagine how much more this’d suck if I didn’t want to cook.

 

Mentally, he was grateful for the choice, but knew he’d always end up taking this path again if given the option, for better or for worse.

 

He was prepared to stay slumped for another five, maybe ten minutes or so, when the jingle of the door opening caught his attention.

 

He raised his head. “Shuri? What are you-”

 

“Welcome to Thieve’s Rest! Here, take a seat.” His brother’s suddenly-cheerful voice cut him off. 

 

No. On our break? Shuri, why the hell-

 

Sling narrowed his eyes at the sound of Shuri ushering somebody inside. He swears on every bag of flour in the back, he’s going to kill Shuri later-

 

“O-oh! Hello, Hyperlaser!” Vine is suddenly standing, putting on her best customer service smile.

 

Hyperlaser?

 

Sling jumps to his feet as well, watching as, indeed, that signature blue helmet identified the inphernal walking inside.

 

Shit, Hyperlaser-

 

He grabbed Vine by the arm and rushed behind the cash register, plastering a work-friendly smile on his face. Vine didn’t object, her eyes were only following the Blackrockian.

 

“Are you open? I apologize, the sign read open but I didn’t see you three inside.” Hyperlaser hummed, looking around at the empty cafe. Shuriken nodded, much more vigorously than necessary. The green-horned inphernal escorted Hyperlaser to a window table near the back– not too obvious for anyone entering the cafe but perfect for the three to monitor.

 

“Here’s our menu.” Shuriken supplied, sliding the laminated paper across the table and beaming. “Do you already have something in mind?”

 

Hyperlaser scanned the menu, holding it loosely but professionally in one hand. “Give me just one minute…” He clicked his tongue. Shuriken nodded again, silently mouthing of course.

 

This was perfect. Hyperlaser didn’t come in here frequently but he had once mentioned potentially bringing Katana. If they continued to make a good enough impression to the point he would keep coming back, then maybe, just maybe he might feel free enough to eat with his love. Oh, and on top of that, if Hyperlaser was having as rough of a time as Shuriken made him out to be, then he had come to the right place. Sling would make sure of it. He was proud of his honed cooking skills, so whatever Hyperlaser ordered, he would ensure it was perfect.

 

A date was on the line. Perfect was all he could afford.

 

“Vine.” Sling whispered discreetly. “This could be our chance.”

 

She nodded, eyes sparkling. “He normally gets stuff with blueberries, right? I’ll go wash some.”

 

“Yes, quick.” Sling ushered her over, eyes locked on their most valued customer as he ran through the menu. What did he normally order? If Sling remembered, he could start the prep now… Well, Hyperlaser hadn’t been here that many times, so there was no such thing as something he normally ordered, but Vine Staff was right. Blueberries; those were common across all of his orders, right? It was fitting, what with his bright blue helmet and all. And given it was lunch time (well, past the lunch rush but still lunch time) he’d probably want something big. Even though inphernals technically didn’t need to eat, Slingshot hadn’t made it this far as a business from every inphernal just deciding to get their energy from sleeping.

 

Everyone craves food eventually. And that was why Hyperlaser was here.

 

Vine quickly poured two cups of blueberries into a colander and all but shoved them under the sink’s faucet, sifting them back and forth through the water to rid the fruits of any potential debris. After a few seconds, she deemed them clean enough, and shook the berries of their new hydrating coat. The colander was deposited next to Sling, and he nodded at Vine gratefully.

 

Now, what to do with them? Maybe Hyperlaser wanted a crepe or two, or for the blueberries to be a side dish with a sandwich or something. Or- actually, he hadn’t tuned in on the conversation between Shuriken and Hyperlaser for a while, now. It was times like these (albeit, very rarely) where he envied Shuriken’s position, because his brother had a reason to be eying the customer down, whereas he himself probably just looked like a creep.

 

He shook his head. He was getting distracted again. Sling squinted his eyes, refocusing his efforts on the customer. Well, he would’ve, if Shuriken wasn’t already striding towards the kitchen gate. The second Hyperlaser was unable to see the waiter’s face (not as if the Blackrockian was paying any attention; he appeared to be looking out the window now) Shuriken’s face went from customer-service-pleased to customer-service-concerned.

 

“What’s he want? What’s he want?” Vine hissed, hands clenching and unclenching. “We already washed some blueberries, tell us-”

 

“No, he just, uh…” Shuriken set the check down. On it, only a single word was written: toast. “He just wants toast.”

 

Silence.

 

“Like, blueberry toast? Avocado toast? What kind?” Sling pressed, leaning forward.

 

Shuriken raised his hands defensively. “Plain toast. Literally nothing else. I asked him, like, do you want any toppings? And I thought, y’know, since it’s him I figured we could give him toppings, like, on the house. So I told him that any toppings he wanted would be added for free. Just to sweeten him up a bit.” He shook his head. “Nothing. He wants plain, white toast.”

 

More silence.

 

Plain, white toast. In the middle of the day. His mind raced in disbelief. Why the hell did he even come in if he doesn’t want to eat?!

 

“What, uh, did he say exactly…?” Sling pushed, as if there was some secret about the order that Shuri was refusing to share.

 

Shuri scoffed, but made an ahem noise before going into his Hyperlaser impression. “Oh, no. No toppings please.” Came an overly-gruff voice out of his mouth. “You don’t need to waste those. Just regular toast for me.”

 

That… was not a lot to work with.

 

Sling cleared his throat. “Okay, uh, let’s get on it, then. I’ll go heat up the pan.”

 

He flicked a switch on the stove to turn the heat on. The three stood around the pan, as if watching it would make it heat up any faster.

 

“...Did he want two pieces, at least?” Vine slowly looked up at her brother.

 

Shuriken crossed his arms. “No.” He huffed. He locked eyes with Sling, and his face dropped into a scowl. “Stop lookin’ at me like it’s my fault he ordered nothing.”

 

Slingshot didn’t realize he’d been staring that intensely. He rubbed his eyes again and sighed.

 

“Okay, so… without directly making something different than what he ordered, how do we make the cheapest item on our menu look… impressive?” He prompted. Shuriken shrugged, his answer clearly meaning you guys work the kitchen, not me.

 

Vine raised her hand. “Well, since we already prepped the blueberries, should we just, like, add them as a side and pretend they’re part of the meal?”

 

Sling snapped his fingers. “Excellent idea, Vine.” He praised, and Shuriken rolled his eyes. “Okay, step back, you two. I need to toast the most important slice of bread we’ll ever handle.”

 

That left both of his siblings rolling their eyes. Slowly, precisely, he laid the single slice of bread on the center of the pan. Immediately, the weak sound of sizzling filled the kitchen.

 

The three went back to watching the pan; this time, with toast to look at.

 

Shit, why was this stressful?

 

Subtly, Vine left the kitchen in exchange for peering over the front counter. Hyperlaser still appeared to be looking out the window, head resting on his hand, lost in thought. Maybe not lost in thought at all, or maybe having no thoughts but still feeling lost– Sling didn’t know, he just… Well, Hyperlaser did look tired. He was slouching. Maybe Shuri was right after all, but he wished that they hadn’t found out that Hyperlaser wasn’t feeling great through snooping.

 

He flipped the bread.

 

Well… even if the mercenary- shit, ex-mercenary– literally only wanted one piece of toast, Slingshot would do everything in his power to make it the best piece of toast Hyperlaser would ever have. Perfectly crunchy on both sides, not an ounce of burn. The pan oil would give it flavor, just enough to form a savory taste without overwhelming the tongue. Just a minute more, and…

 

Masterfully, Sling whipped the pan off of the stove and tilted the bread onto the plate. With a napkin, he swiped away any stray crumbs that might ruin the visual beauty, and finally spooned blueberries beside the toast. He counted them as they made contact with the plate: one, three, six, eight, nine, eleven, fourteen…

 

Eventually, at nineteen blueberries, he stopped putting them down. He debated adding another– this just isn’t a meal; it’s way too small, he thought– but shook his head. Rule of odds, he reminded himself, and arranged the blueberries into a well-meaning circle.

 

This was going to be the best he could do.

 

With a nod, Slingshot handed the plate over to Shuriken, who exhaled somewhat shakily before exiting the kitchen. The plate got gracefully deposited in front of Hyperlaser, and as soon as was politely possible, Shuriken strode back behind the counter.

 

Moment of truth.

 

Vine crossed her fingers while her other hand drummed its own fingers on the countertop. “Please.” She mumbled, leaning forward, and Sling leaned forward with her.

 

“C’mon, you wanna love Sling’s food so bad…” Shuri goaded under his breath. Obviously, the Blackrockian couldn’t hear the comment in the slightest, so it only served as a makeshift prayer.

 

Hyperlaser appeared to eye the toast for a moment, hand hovering over the bread as if he wasn’t sure what to make of it, before thumbing through the blueberries and popping a single one in his mouth under his helmet. From there, he went for the utensils, and sawed off a small section of the already pitifully sized bread slice.

 

It was excruciating.

 

Every now and then, the three averted their gaze, just in case he were to turn around. Shuriken pretended to sweep the floor behind the counter, Slingshot opened the cash register just to hold a few bux and pretend to count them, and Vine Staff opened and closed random cabinets just for the sake of making background noise. Sling had no idea if it was necessary, but it appeared to keep the mer- fuck, no, it’s ex-mercenary, remember that, Slingshot– the ex-mercenary at ease enough for him to continue eating.

 

“Do you think he likes it?” Shuri whispered, moving a broom in such a way where absolutely nothing on the ground was being cleaned up. 

 

Vine shrugged, opening and closing a silverware drawer. “No clue.” She murmured, glancing between her brothers and Hyperlaser. “He’s still eating it, so, maybe?”

 

Sling nodded slowly. Hyperlaser was, in fact, still eating the toast. He just happened to be feeding those miniature bites under his helmet so slowly, like a regular sized piece would be impossible to eat. What was he at, four bites? Four bites plus one blueberry? And it had been multiple minutes, too. Sling stopped himself from growling in frustration; patience. He just needed to be patient. There wasn’t any rush. He could wait. What was important was that Hyperlaser enjoyed the m- food, even if he didn’t convey it.

 

Hyperlaser set his fork down and adjusted his posture. Ah, Sling reasoned, he must be tilting his helmet back further to make it easier to eat. He ran the bux through his hands once again, slower, just to kill time-

 

Hyperlaser stood up, neatly wrapped the toast and its blueberries in napkins, and walked to the front counter.

 

Startled, the three assumed professional but friendly positions by the register.

 

No way he’s done. He barely touched the toast. Is he just taking it to go…?

 

“Hi, Hyperlaser!” Sling waved with a smile he didn’t feel. “I hope your meal was to your liking?”

 

Please.

 

Hyperlaser hummed and nodded in response, one hand in his pocket while the other held the wrapped toast. “Yes. I appreciate the added blueberries; I didn’t see those on the menu for toast, though.”

 

Shit. 

“Th-they come with the toast!” Shuriken butted in, leaning in front of his younger brother. Vine and Sling nodded convincingly.

 

Hyperlaser let out a light ha, pulling out his wallet from within his coat. “Well, it was lovely, thank you.” He assured. In a smooth and practiced motion, he drew out a debit card from its pocket in the wallet with only two fingers. “I don’t come here often, so forgive me for asking, but you three take card here, right?”

 

Sling nodded again. “Yup,” he started, swinging the propped tablet screen around so that Hyperlaser could tap and pay. “It’s got a few silly questions that’ll pop up, but you don’t need to answer those.”

 

The Blackrockian quietly hummed, pressing his card against the screen. Then, he began tapping. Which meant he was answering the questions about tipping, receipt, and phone number. Which is not something that they wanted him to feel obligated to fill.

 

“Oh, haha, you don’t need to answer those if you don’t feel like it.” Vine laughed, albeit slightly nervously. “You’re basically a regular even though you don’t come in here that often, just because we see you so frequently-! Aha, um. So you can just skip through those with the little button in the top right-”

 

“No, no, it’s alright.” Hyperlaser, having apparently finished, slipped the card back within the wallet, and neatly folded it back together before putting it back in his coat. He huffed again, though it sounded like laughter, so Sling took that as a good sign for whatever he was about to say next. “You all work so hard here; I’m just supporting local business.”

 

Sling couldn’t help it– the compliment wormed its way into heart almost immediately. “Oh, well, thank you, Hyperlaser.” He beamed, turning the tablet back around to face the trio. “You don’t have to support us but, ah, you know, we do work very hard to keep this place together, so it’s nice to-”

 

The next words on his tongue died the second he actually looked at the tablet, which detailed Hyperlaser’s spending at Thieves’ Rest.

 

Toast: 90 bux.

 

Tax: 20 bux.

 

Additional Tip: 15000 bux.

 

Total: 15110 bux.

 

Fifteen thousand bux. Hyperlaser just tipped fifteen THOUSAND bux.

 

Having looked at the tablet as well, Vine’s jaw went slack, and Shuri, eyes wide, began stammering incoherent sentences. 

 

“You- that’s- Hyperlaser, you can’t possibly- I mean- what? What? Don’t you, like, iunno, have anything better to-”

 

Hyperlaser waved his hand nonchalantly, as if he had offered to foot the bill for some snacks and not dropped five figures on the cheapest item in the restaurant. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, you guys work hard. Figured someone should recognize that.”

 

Fifteen thousand bux.

 

Slingshot swallowed. “I, um… I really appreciate this, Hyperlaser, really. But…”

 

Why is he dropping this much money when he’s freshly unemployed? Where the hell is this fund coming from? This should be rain check money.

 

“...I, um… I can’t take this.”

 

The ex-mercenary tilted his head. “Oh?” He prompted, and Slingshot could swear there was a lilt to his voice, like there was something he found funny that nobody else could get. Instead of laughing along, Sling’s stomach curdled at the thought.

 

“This- I mean-” He waved his hands around, like that would help explain why a fifteen-thousand bux tip was absolutely insane. “This is way too much. I’m very grateful, but… there- there’s gotta be better ways to spend this, y’know? And I…” 

 

He cut himself off, remembering something Hyperlaser had said earlier. Months ago, on one of those delirious summer bar sessions where he and Katana had drank the night away.

 

(“I cannot fathom why you would choose to retain that job.”

 

“Aw, you know I can’t pick, ‘Tana. I spawned with a soldier’s type a’ gear. Even if I could be something else, Korblox wouldn’t let me.”

 

“It is simply horrid.” Katana shamelessly admitted his thoughts, nursing a well-loved cup of sake. “How could they control so much yet give so little?”

 

Hyperlaser downed his own glass, not bothering to slide his helmet down further afterwards. “Dunno.” His response was. “I’m an asset, I- hic- think? I’m useful to them so they don’t give me enough to let me go elsewhere. Guess that’s the most somebody like me coul’ ask for, haahaha.”

 

Katana’s hulking figure eclipsed Hyperlaser’s entirely as he leaned against the smaller for support, tipping his stool dangerously. “But you must still pay to live.” He prodded.

 

“Yeaaaaaahhhhhh…” Hyperlaser sighed, then hiccuped again, leaning into the touch that threatened to send him over. “Landlord’s a bitch, too. Keeps upping rent for no- hic- no goddamn reason… Swear, if my contracts dry up again, they’re just gonna boot me.”

 

His head naturally fell against Katana’s chest, either from the alcohol or the late hour. Katana didn’t protest; rather, his arm cradled the helmeted inphernal comfortably, and his own head rested atop Hyperlaser’s. “You will always be welcome at my residence, if that were to happen.” His words were slightly slurred, fighting intoxication in a losing battle. Hyperlaser had lost that battle a while ago. “You would make a wonderful roommate.”

 

Now the shorter laughed, breathily. “Ha, wouldn’t just be me you’re dealing with.” He taunted. “You’d huh-have to take Princess too! And she’s very sassy.”

 

“More sassy than you?” Katana teased, barely suppressing a laugh himself. Hyperlaser chuckled again.

 

“Maybe not.” He confessed. “But wherever I go, Princess will follow. ‘Nless I die. Then I guess, I’ll…” He stopped for a minute, taking a deep, greedy breath. “I’ll send her to you, first. Then you’ll have something to remember me by. ‘Nd you'll take care of her well.”

 

Katana adjusted his head. “Well, I'd grow quite lonely if you were gone, even with Princess.”

 

Hyperlaser huffed. “Why? I go on missions for weeks at a time. Never- heh- never stopped you before.”

 

Katana pulled the two closer, and mumbled something that Slingshot couldn't quite hear. Whatever it was, Hyperlaser didn't answer, instead focusing on breathing out intoxicated breaths.

 

“What did he say? What?” Shuri hissed, gripping his glass of water tightly.

 

“Shh, keep it down! They're gonna recognize us.” Vine shushed under her breath. Her untouched mocktail glimmered in the bar light, only ordered for the sake of allowing her to loiter.

 

Sling shuffled closer to the end of their table, hoping to catch another word. 

 

He never did.)

 

Slowly, Sling’s eyes looked up to where he assumed Hyperlaser’s eyes to be. The unmoving, sterile reflection of his helmet looked back, completely unreadable.

 

“...Shouldn’t this go towards your rent?” He cautiously asked, as to not imply that he knew more than he let on. “Because, er, I was under the impression that Blackrock wasn’t very lenient with apartment pricing. And, erm, you’ve mentioned that a few times.”

 

Hyperlaser only made a small shrug in response. 

 

Slingshot felt sick. “I thought you said that your contract work was tight.”

 

When Hyperlaser spoke again, the lilt was much more obvious. It felt as though he knew something that nobody else did, and he found the thought exhilarating.

 

“No, no.” He waved his hand, an attempt at quelling Slingshot’s unnerved feeling that failed completely. “It’s just spare money; besides, rent’s gone down and I’m pretty well off right now. Subspace’s got me covered good recently.”

 

When has Subspace ever had your back?

 

Shuri poked out from the counter, biting his lip. “But I thought you q-”

 

“-uieted down! We thought you quieted down recently.” Slingshot coughed, covering Shuri’s mouth with his hand. The word quit got muffled behind his fingers. “As in you, like, stopped taking so much work lately. To give yourself a break.”

 

Hyperlaser stared like a deer in headlights. “I don’t… believe so.” His voice lost its lilt, now sounding closer to confused. Whether that was from catching Slingshot’s lie or hesitating on his own lie, the baker didn’t know.

 

“Ah. Our bad.” Vine Staff looked onward awkwardly. 

 

The two parties stared at each other for a second more. Then, taking that as a sign to leave, Hyperlaser nodded, and began moving for the door, wrapped toast in tow.

 

“Well, thank you three for the meal. Have a nice day.” He strode away.

 

Slingshot gripped the counter. No. No, he could not take this much money from an inphernal who most certainly needed it. Hyperlaser had to be lying. No one would drop fifteen thousand bux like it was nothing. It felt illegal. It felt sickening. Despite having spent the entire day praying for his customers to order and leave, Slingshot wouldn’t let him just-

 

“Hyperlaser!”

 

But the Blackrockian was already out the door.

 

Tentatively, Shuriken stepped out onto the main floor of the cafe and watched him from beyond the glass. After a moment, he turned to face his siblings, a look of utter dejection on his face.

 

“...He dropped the toast in the trash.”

 

The three remained silent. None of them were sure what to say.

 

Hyperlaser is insane. Is that why he needed medication? To prevent him from making decisions like this?

 

Vine Staff continued to look out the door, as if he’d come back in.

 

I think I understand what Shuri was trying to say now. There’s something… he’s never been like this before. It doesn’t make any sense. Why’d he order food if he wasn’t hungry? Why’d he spend so much money on it? Why’d he lie?

 

Shuriken fiddled with his hands, looking at the floor.

 

This is just so concerning. I don’t have a clue what he’s trying to do. What’s the logic behind any of this? 

 

Sling brought his fist to his face, resisting the urge to bite his hand from the stress.

 

He left his food in the trash. He left his money. He left his job. What in the Swords is he-

 

Oh. Oh, shit.

 

He’s giving everything away. He has nothing. He gasped, feeling his heart drop like a stone. His siblings turned to face him, confused. He’s not moving in with someone else at all. He’s giving up. He’s giving everything up.

 

“He’s-” Slingshot croaked, fist knuckles growing white with how hard he was clenching. His eyes darted between the two, then to the door where Hyperlaser had left. “He- fuck- Shuri, set the sign to closed. We’re done for today.”

 

Eying his brother with a look of concern, Shuriken’s shoes made light tapping noises as he moved for the door. The sign was flipped with a slight clack as it hit against the doorframe, declaring the restaurant closed for the foreseeable future. Rapidly, Slingshot's mind raced for a plan.

 

“What’s going on? What are we doing?” Vine furrowed her brow. “I know we were going to take a break, but… You look really…”

 

“Stressed.” Shuri finished for her.

 

Sling’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. He had to be wrong. There’s no way this was what Hyperlaser was going for– he’d never gotten close to this bad before. It had to be some, some kind of altered mental state or something.

 

But he didn’t look drunk-

 

Why didn’t he tell anyone? If he was having a hard time, Katana had offered to provide support, the three of them would help him in a heartbeat-

 

But there’s no one else, is there-

 

“...Sling?” Vine leaned forward, attempting to meet her brother in the eyes. “...What’s wrong?”

 

Finally, barely, Slingshot found himself able to speak. “It’s Hyperlaser.” He managed with a throat that seemed to be resisting every word. “I-I think- Shuri, I think you were right. He’s- fuck, we have to do something-”

 

“Please tell me what’s going on.” Vine pleaded, wringing her hands. “I don’t understand, what do you know about Hyperlaser-”

 

We might already be too late.

 

“Shuri- Shuri, listen to me.” He stammered. Vine’s face fell, hurt clear in her eyes, and Slingshot felt a pang in his heart. He just needed a second before explaining, just needed to get something going to maybe stop Hyperlaser from-

 

“Shuri, I need you to go to Hyperlaser’s apartment. I don’t care how you do it, just get there as fast as you can.” He ordered. Shuri’s eyes were wide, clearly not expecting this, but he nodded and that was all that Slingshot needed. “Just- just find anything you can. Anything that might point to his health getting worse, or- or anything bad at all. Just find something about him and bring it back. Or- or call me when you get there, or something, I- I just-” 

 

“Sling, breathe.” His brother tried, and to his credit, Slingshot did his best to obey. He shakily inhaled before continuing on.

 

“You have to beat Hyperlaser there. You were right, there’s something seriously wrong here, and I- I need to be proven wrong. That it’s not as bad as I think it is. I want proof that Hyperlaser isn’t- isn’t trying to-” 

 

He cut himself off. He wouldn’t say it aloud– he couldn’t. Even muttering it felt too wrong. But Shuri seemed to get what he was saying anyway, and the older’s eyes widened.

 

“Oh my Swords- you think-”

 

“Yes, yes- I do. Go.” Slingshot urged, desperation in every word. Shuriken nodded again, quicker, before making a beeline for the break room. In under a minute, the inphernal came out in his regular clothes and practically sprinted out the back door. With that, he grappled off in the direction of Blackrock, and the restaurant was left completely silent.

 

“...Are you going to tell me what’s happening?” Vine Staff prompted, placing her regular hand on Sling’s shoulder. She gulped, voice wavering. “I don’t get it. I’m sorry, Shuri seemed to really know what’s going on b-but you know I’ve never been the best with people-”

 

Slingshot exhaled, shakily. “It’s alright.” He forced himself to say, because he didn’t know if things were going to be alright at all.

 

He motioned for her to follow him, and together they sat down at one of the tables. It was one of the taller ones, where Vine was the only one whose feet could actually touch the ground. Slingshot propped his own feet up on the lower bars of the chair he sat on, and rested his head on one of his hands.

 

“...Vine, I-I really don’t know how to say this.” He swallowed. Already, he hated the way he was handling this. Vine wasn’t some newspawn; she was older than him, stronger than him. She could handle hearing that he thought Hyperlaser was going to-

 

Slingshot took another breath. He was one who couldn’t handle it.

 

“So, you know how Hyperlaser’s health hasn’t been… the best?” He tried. “Like, ever?”

 

Vine Staff nodded slowly. “Yes, but, I don’t…” She scratched her head. “I’m sorry, but, I don’t see how his burns are, um, relevant right now.”

 

“No, no, not his burns. His mental health.” Slingshot corrected. Vine’s mouth opened with a silent ah and she nodded.

 

“I-I don’t know, Vine. It just seems like it’s gotten so much worse somehow. Not, like, visibly, but…” He waved his hand in the air in a sort of call me crazy motion. “Why would he give us that much money when he’s out of a job? That’s insane!”

 

Vine bit her lip, massaging her shoulder with her wooden hand. “No, I agree with you. I can’t make heads or tails of it either.”

 

“But… what I was thinking was…” Slingshot took another shaky breath, slouching deeper to the point where he was practically laying on the table. Through muffled voice, he blurted out, “I-I think, with him giving us all that money and him quitting, he might be trying to-”

 

His voice got quieter as the thought fully cemented itself in his mind. “...prepare himself for suicide.”

 

He wasn’t sure how Vine was going to take the information. Some part of him expected her to get angry at him for even conceiving such an idea, while another part of him thought she would take it too poorly and begin crying. Immature, that’s what those thoughts were. Vine Staff just didn’t behave like that. But he didn’t know how she’d take it.

 

He didn’t expect silence.

 

Slingshot dared himself to look up at her. She didn’t have any visible reaction, face completely blank, save for the occasional blink.

 

“I guess… that makes sense. That he’d do those things if he was going to kill himself.” Was what she finally said, the words somehow rolling off of her tongue smoother than his own. Her eyes flitted downwards at the table, as if she were looking at the inphernal in question. “He’s, um… he’s had it bad. And… I’m not going to pretend there weren’t signs.”

 

Slingshot raised himself off of the table. “What do you mean?” He asked.

 

Vine Staff looked side to side, as if there could be any eavesdroppers, and gently placed her hands on the table, fiddling with the wood of her fingers to keep herself busy. “Well… I mean, I didn’t think it was that big of a secret that he was pretty miserable before he met Katana. We’ve heard him confess that a couple times. And that he only ever left his apartment for- oh, what was it? There were three things…” Her fingers drummed harshly against the table as she attempted to recall, before she planted them all down as the thought came back to her. “That’s right. He only left for work, and for phights– which are basically work, anyways– and the bar. I don’t remember… were you there when Subspace called him a recluse in that one phight?”

 

Slingshot shook his head. “No, but you told me about it. Can you, uh, repeat it, though?” He swallowed.

 

“It was a while ago… Over a year, definitely. Maybe two. I was teamed with Subspace and Hyperlaser-” Her hands spread apart, attempting to show their positions relative to her. “-and I remember, Subspace was mocking him, I think. Something like, ‘Finally left your damn apartment, huh?’ and Hyperlaser just said ‘I leave my apartment enough. Especially when I’m working for you.’ and Subspace laughed and called him a drunk recluse. Or something.”

 

That’s right, Slingshot remembered now; not from having been there but from having heard this confession when Hyperlaser had told Katana about it. Those two were both laughing, though, so that might’ve been why I didn’t take it seriously…

 

“Yeah, and, um-” He snapped his fingers repeatedly “Right, when he started seeing Katana consistently, do you remember how mopey he was? Like, all the time?”

 

Vine nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Do you remember when they were out on Katana’s back porch-”

 

“How could I forget? Of course I remember, we tried to serve him free food as a gift afterwards but he insisted on paying.” Slingshot laughed incredulously.

 

(That night, under a shimmering tide of stars, the two had been sitting on the staple iron chairs of every apartment complex when Hyperlaser had suddenly asked “‘Tana, why do you keep yourself around me?”

 

The question had startled the taller. “What do you mean?” Katana huffed, focusing his gaze from the stars to his friend.

 

Hyperlaser didn’t respond immediately, choosing to run his bare hands over each other. “...You know what my job is, right?” His voice came out, cautious, like he was afraid to lose something. His job, his life, this conversation; it wasn’t clear.

 

Katana’s owlish mask stared back. “Of course. You’re a mercenary for hire.” His smooth, rumbling voice did nothing to soothe Hyperlaser at hearing his job title being spoken aloud.

 

Hyperlaser hadn’t moved. “And you know what that entails, I presume?”

 

“Yes. For lack of a better term…” Katana’s hands sat in his own lap, clasped like a prayer. “...you kill people.”

 

“So you do know.” Hyperlaser’s voice filtered through his helmet, expression unreadable as always. “And yet, you keep inviting me back. Why?”

 

Now it was Katana’s turn to hesitate. Hyperlaser seemed to take that to be an answer in of itself, and he crossed his arms and faced away. Only when Katana began speaking again did he bother to face back. “I suppose I enjoy your company.”

 

The mercenary scoffed. “What is there to enjoy? You’ll find plenty more inphernals at the bar capable of things I’m not. They’ll serve you better than I.”

 

“I’m not looking for someone to serve me.” Katana corrected. “I simply find your presence…” From there, he had placed his hand under his mask, feeling around on the marred skin. “I am not sure what the word is. I suppose you are ‘recognizable,’ in that I see my past in yours. Perhaps even ‘genuine’ or, if I was feeling daring…” Katana’s voice now held undertones of a smile to it, evidence that he was enjoying himself even without his face being visible. “...’pulchritudinous.’ That is another word that fits.”

 

Hyperlaser laughed in disbelief, and Katana chuckled alongside him. “Now you flatter me with words I don’t even know.” He huffed out laughter, but the effect was short lived, and the serious tone he had been shooting for came back in full swing as he cleared his throat. “But there’s no need to flatter someone like me. You’d best save those for someone who really earned it.”

 

Katana hummed. “And tell me why that shouldn’t be you?”

 

Hyperlaser laughed again, less humorously this time. “K-Katana, you know why.” He tried. “You should know better than anyone.”

 

“And yet, here I sit, not quite understanding.” The taller confessed. “I am not a mind reader, Hyperlaser. You will have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

The mercenary muttered something under his breath. “Sorry, what was that?” Katana prompted, leaning forward more. Hyperlaser groaned, leaning back in his chair before crossing both his legs and arms.

 

“The corruption, ‘Tana. The thing you’re so set on cleansing from the world. How the hell do I not qualify?”

 

“Well… that is because I do not believe you are corrupt.” Katana’s overly simple answer came. Upon seeing Hyperlaser’s incredulous body language, he sighed and elaborated. “Hyper… I… in a way, I understand what you have gone through.”

 

When Hyperlaser didn’t respond, he continued. “You are not corrupt in the same way that a beast is not corrupt for killing its prey. You’re victim of something greater, an unspoken force that takes advantage of what you are and commands you to obey with no clear reason. And… should you fail to obey, you die. In following the orders the world has set out for you, you yourself remain alive.” Ever so slightly, his voice wavered, and with a smaller breath he wrapped his fingers around the straps of his mask and removed it. There, his scarred face solemnly stared down at the smaller, lit only by the distant street lights and stars. “I know that feeling. Of being thrown into circumstance that leaves you with little control, a life where you only find meaning in obedience. Even if this obedience brings you pain.”

 

His single eye was drawn to Hyperlaser’s charred, ungloved hands. The mercenary flinched upon noticing, placing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that should excuse what I’ve done.”

 

“I disagree.” Katana’s stern voice cut through the air. “The act itself is horrid, but what is the alternative? You have no second path. You kill because you have to, not because you choose to.”

 

“No, you’ve got it wrong. I make the choice to stay there. I choose to send those people to an early grave. Every day, I-”

 

“Then why have you told me you can't escape?” Katana countered.

 

The air went quiet, save for the crickets and occasional car in the distance. Hyperlaser’s head lowered, and Katana’s hands traced his porcelain mask. There was a murmur from the smaller, something that sounded like you’re lying again, but it was never properly said.

 

Slingshot and Vine Staff listened from the kitchen window, while Shuriken’s snores were audible from down the hall. Neither of them said a word for a while, as if talking to each other would break the moment that their neighbors held.

 

Finally, Hyperlaser’s voice echoed into the room again. “You’re just saying that because… we’re drunk. That’s what it is.” He mumbled, argument weak the second it left his mouth.

 

Katana laughed quietly. “Neither you nor I have had much to drink tonight, Hyper.”

 

“I choose to believe the opposite. Nothing good happens when we’re sober.”

 

“...Does that mean this conversation was good for you?”

 

“It means that I can’t believe you’d say that to me without some influence.”

 

“Haha. I don’t see why I can’t be genuine.”

 

“...You’re fucked up, ‘Tana, laughing at me after all that.”

 

“My, how vulgar!”

 

“Oh, please. You’ve said worse yourself.”

 

The tone of their conversation lightened significantly as the two devolved into genuine laughter. Eventually, the two abandoned the back porch and moved inside, muffling their talk significantly.

 

“...I don’t get it.” Slingshot crossed his arms. “They’ll do all that and then turn in our face and call themselves friends?”

 

Vine Staff pushed her head into her hands. “Surely they realize there’s something between them.” she groaned. “Even I can see. I give them a month.”

 

And that had been funny, back then, but eventually a month went by, and then another, and so on and so forth. But nothing pertaining to a relationship of any kind had gone down, so the trio continued to wait.

 

But for the time being, Hyperlaser had seemed… less miserable, at least.)

 

Slingshot shook his head in disbelief. “I mean- I feel like, if he was struggling at least, surely he’d ask for help?”

 

Vine shook her head right back at him. “That’s not always how it works; he’s not always worked like that, right?”

 

I… suppose not. He chided himself. He’s always been the solitary type.

 

“Then- er, I don’t- gah, I don’t know.” Sling laid down on the table, putting his hands over his head like he was surrendering. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t- I just need confirmation. That he’s trying to go down this path. But even if Shuri comes back, and he says that, that Hyperlaser’s…”

 

(“Where do you see yourself in ten years, ‘Tana?” Hyperlaser hiccuped through his drink.

 

Katana’s elegant posture was only disrupted by his head, dipping lower and lower with each sip of his own drink. “Probably… right here, with you.” He managed.)

 

“...I’m scared, Vine.”

 

Vine Staff hung her head. “...Me too.”

 

Their silence remained in the air.

 

“...Do you think if we managed to move him out of Blackrock, he’d change?”

 

(“Subspace, this is the third time this week. What could possibly have you calling again?”

 

Some scratchy voice came through Hyperlaser’s helmet; not his own, just a caller. Subspace, by the sound of things.

 

“...I know I need the money. But three? Three targets in a week? Why are you-”

 

Hyperlaser’s fingers faltered on the helmet button that let him talk back. More of that scratchy voice made itself known. The mercenary looked between the street and Katana’s apartment door, the latter of which he had just exited to take the call.

 

“...I’ll be on my way.” He sighed. From there he turned, and moved to re-enter Katana’s apartment. Not a minute later, he was out the door and moving for the bus stop.)

 

Slingshot didn’t answer, but looked at her curiously, voicelessly asking her to continue. Thankfully, she obliged.

 

“I was thinking…” She ran her hand over her wood, up and down in a slow, soothing motion. “When we all first moved here, I, um… it was hard.” Vine confessed. “Because everything was so new. And I didn’t know how to feel about myself. But, y’know, it- it got better. And it definitely was better than…” 

 

Her voice went quiet. “...being alone.”

 

She fiddled with her apron as she continued. “I… I guess, I wasn’t thinking about myself well at all until I moved in with you guys. So, if Hyperlaser’s feeling the same way… a new change of scenery and being close to someone you love, that’s gotta help, right?”

 

Shyly, or perhaps shamefully, she avoided eye contact, like she had confessed to vandalism and not a past, deep-seeded loneliness.

 

Oh, Vine…

 

Slingshot couldn’t stop the small smile that wove itself onto his face. Not because what Vine had said was funny; far from it. Rather…

 

“Vine, I think you should give yourself more credit. You’re way better at understanding people than you realize.” He stated, and Vine bashfully smiled at him too.

 

For the better part of an hour, they sat at that table, unmoving. 

 

Only when Slingshot’s phone began ringing did they move. He looked at the screen. Shuriken was the caller. He must have finally made it to Hyperlaser’s apartment.

 

Sling picked up and set the call to speaker so Vine could hear. “Hello? Shuri, are you there?”

 

Shuriken’s slightly muffled voice came out in response. “Yeah, Sling, I’m here. He’s- uh, Hyperlaser’s not here yet. I beat him. Princess is- er, she was sleeping, but she’s up right now.” A distant meow sounded through the speaker. “She’s, uh, I think she’s happy to see me.”

 

Sling exhaled a breath that he felt like he’d been holding for hours. “Okay, do you see anything around? Like, you said there was a bottle in the bathroom. Is there anything else?”

 

The phone went quiet for a second. Sling impatiently tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for a response.

 

“You’re, uh, sure you want me digging around? And you’re not gonna yell at me?”

 

Sling bit his lip. He wanted to shout, to say hurry, before he gets home, but before he could answer, Vine cut him off and leaned closer towards the phone. “I don’t think it matters at this point, Shuri. We just need to- to make sure Hyperlaser’s safe. This is more important than privacy.”

 

Sling nodded gratefully, even though his brother couldn’t see. It wasn’t for Shuri, anyway. Vine’s lips formed a small smile, before returning to her serious expression. Shuriken let out a quiet okay that barely made it through the phone.

 

Some tapping sounds echoed as Shuriken walked around. “There isn’t, like, anything. Counters are empty, table has a paper– I’ll look at that in a sec, fridge is- hold on, lemme check-” The call went quiet as his older brother presumably made for the fridge and opened its door. “Nope, that’s empty too. Damn, why’d he bother having a fridge if he’s not gonna keep food?”

 

Shuriken made his way over to the paper. “Oh, I think Hyperlaser left this out for me to deliver back to Katana. It’s a return letter.” he said, sounding more surprised than pleased or annoyed. “It’s- oh! He agreed to meet with Katana again! Although, we probably could’ve guessed that he’d do that, so that’s not surprising at all, actually.”

 

“What about the cabinets? Or- or the trash?” Vine proposed, running her wooden thumb over her other hand’s knuckles. “I- I don’t know what you’ll find. Just giving out ideas.”

 

Her brother hummed. “I’ll go cabinets first.” He decided, and the clacks of wood opening and closing made its way through the speaker. “Empty... cat food, okay... empty… empty.” An exasperated sigh was audible. “This whole place is cleaned out. Except for Princess’s stuff, there's toys on the floor everywhere.” Shuriken jingled a toy, and its owner meowed indignantly. “Oh, yes, this is yours, isn’t it, girl?” His voice took on a playful tone. “You should move it out of the hallway; your owner could trip, you know that?”

 

“Shuri, focus please.” Sling put his hand against his head as he redirected. Now that he was advocating for criminal activity… well, it didn’t feel good, and his heart was racing faster than it had any right to. But, as Vine had said earlier, it didn’t matter right now. They just needed to see if Hyperlaser was safe.

 

“Right, sorry.”

 

The green-horned inphernal dropped the toy, and noises of movement were heard. “I’m checking the trash now- whoa, that is a lot of papers.”

 

“What’s on them? Are they like… I don’t know, what are they?” Vine eyed the phone, as if she could see the papers herself.

 

“Dunno, gimme a sec.” Shuriken rustled around. The sound of a paper uncrinkling came through, and the inphernal remarked on the contents with a quiet huh. “Do you want me to read this to you? This one looks like a letter, too. It’s not one that I’ve sent over, that’s for sure. Might be a draft.”

 

This is a breach of privacy.

 

But what if it proves something that means Hyperlaser’s safe?

 

“...Okay.” He hesitantly settled on. “Go ahead.”

 

“Alright.” Shuriken cleared his throat. “Actually, looks like he was writing this to Katana in the first place. I’ll just…” His voice went deeper, mimicking the ex-mercenary’s. “Dear Katana. You make me.”

 

Silence.

 

“Is… that it?” Slingshot prodded.

 

“Okay, maybe I didn’t start with the best paper. This is clearly an unfinished letter. I’ll go grab a different one.” Shuriken hurriedly backpedaled, his rushing voice accompanied by more rustling. “Here, this one’s longer. It’s also a letter. And it doesn’t have a signature, and it was in the trash, so I’m assuming this one is also a draft.”

 

“Another one?” Vine hummed, finally resting her own head on the table. “I guess he was having trouble putting his thoughts into words.”

 

“Dear Katana.” Their brother began again, slower. “I have missed you greatly since the last time we have met. Well, perhaps that is an understatement. It’s like I can’t exist without you. My heart beats when we’re together but when we’re apart it feels dead. Is that normal? Should I be concerned? I don’t know; you’re the one with the fancy words. I wish you’d tell me what this sensation is. Of anyone, you’d know what’s going on. I can only imagine- oh, that’s it.”

 

The siblings collectively groaned. “There’s no way there isn’t something between them.” Shuri grumbled. “Are you kidding me? That’s stereotypical, fairy-tale wording. This is a textbook example of someone who is head over heels.”

 

“This letter was written recently, right?” Vine mumbled. “Well, it had to have been. It was in the trash. But like…” She hesitated, words on the tip of her tongue. “...Why didn’t he just send it? What’s stopping him?”

 

“Maybe he thought it was all in his head. Somehow. Like they’ve been doing for the past however many years.” Shuriken reminded pointedly, uncrumpling another paper. “Maybe romance wasn’t a thing yet when they spawned, and they never learned. It’d explain a lot.” He rustled around some more. “I’m getting distracted again. Okay, another letter. Damn, he was on a roll with these things. Actually, I wonder how many of these papers are letter drafts…”

 

He moved around for a minute more, counting under his breath. “...twelve, thirteen, fourt- okay, y’know what, they’re all letter drafts. I’m not counting them all.” He sighed. “I’ll read a few more then, I guess…?”

 

“Just a few. Then you should keep looking around. Remember, we have to get to that bottle at some point.” Sling did his best to redirect despite his rapidly growing curiosity. It was oddly thrilling, being privy to information he would otherwise never learn, but it didn’t stop his heart from pumping quickly at the idea of being caught.

 

He wasn’t even at the apartment, doing the sneaking. He needed to grow up.

 

But you’re assisting in this pseudo-burglary nonsense. All because you have a hunch.

 

“Ok, I’ll just read this next letter. It looks really short too, wow. Did he even try with some of these?” Shuriken scoffed. “He knows that he could write this in pencil, right? Then he wouldn’t need to waste all this paper.”

 

“Let’s just read the draft, please.” Vine urged. Even though her head laid on the table, it was clear she was interested by the way her eyes refused to flit elsewhere. Shuriken sighed. He took a breath in, clearly about to recite the dear Katana that every letter began with, but his breath was completely overridden by a gasp.

 

“Oh my Swords. Oh my Swords.” He swore, over and over, excitement bleeding into every word. “Guys. Guys. Oh my Swords, he knows.”

 

Vine furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?” She demanded. “What does he know? What does the letter say?”

 

“Yeah, Shuri, don’t hold the suspense, just tell us.” Sling leaned closer to the phone. “Is it-”

 

“No, nonono, he said-” The sound of their brother breathlessly exclaiming let’s go broke his sentence, but he managed to get back on track. “He wrote it. He wrote the thing. Right here, right:”

 

Shuriken did an over the top impression of Hyperlaser once more. “Dear Katana. I think I’m in love with you.”

 

Holy shit.

 

“Are- are you joking? He wrote that?!” Vine sprung to her feet, a smile uncontrollably breaking out over her face. “You’re lying. No way.”

 

“Yes way! I’m not kidding, that’s the entire letter. Oh my Swords, he knows he’s in love! And he-” A sound of exasperation came through the phone. “And he threw it away-! Agh, why won’t he just-!”

 

Slingshot’s jaw hung low. All this time, he had been under the impression that the two had just had an incredibly incorrect idea of what love was, or that they refused to confess for some other, inexplicable reason, but nope. Here, in paper proof (well, oral proof; he couldn’t actually see the alleged paper) was unshakeable evidence that at least one of the two was aware of what their relationship really was.

 

Or, he was at least thinking about what it really was.

 

“Slingshot, I haven’t heard anything from you. You there, buddy?” His brother’s voice brought him back to the present. Slingshot finally raised his jaw.

 

“Y-yup. Still here. Just…” He shook his head in disbelief, and Vine nodded at the feeling he was evoking. “Just taking it all in.”

 

“I can’t believe he threw this letter away; why won’t he just get it over with?!” Shuriken moaned and groaned. “This could’ve been over, and they would’ve both been happy, and we wouldn’t have to watch them yearn day in and day out for each other- oh, that’s right. Sling, you’re probably wanting me to keep moving, huh.”

 

…Yeah, you should probably keep moving.

 

“Yes.” He answered, pretending like he hadn’t briefly forgotten the mission in the heat of the moment. “Uh, yes. Um, read another letter, I guess, just to be sure. But then go to the bathroom.”

 

“Why are we reading another letter? I thought that was pretty concrete- well, I guess it’s not what we’re looking for, huh.” Vine sat back down, bashful. “That’s exciting, though! Imagine the look on Katana’s face when he realizes they’re both head over heels!”

 

“Iunno. I kinda thought that might’ve… been part of an answer.” Shuriken spoke. “He’s in love. That’s good, yeah?”

 

No one spoke for a moment.

 

Shuriken sighed. “Okay, I’ll read one more.”

 

For the last time, the crinkling of paper weaseled its way into everyone's ears, and Shuri began reading once more. “Dear Katana. Do you feel it too?” Shuriken broke character for a moment. “Jeez, this one’s way more intense. Sorry, ahem- That pulsing in your body that means you’re alive? I think there’s something wrong with me, because when you’re around it won’t stop. It’s not right; my heart thinks I’m alive, but I haven’t been alive for the past nineteen years, Katana. Tell me how to fix it. How do I fix it? How do I- and, uh, that’s where it got trashed, I guess.”

 

And just like that, everyone was right back how they had started: silent, nervous and concerned.

 

The light that was Hyperlaser’s trashed confession quickly became obscure in the wake of the new letter. The wording was violent, desperate, and- and what exactly did he mean when he wrote that-

 

“How is it possible he’s been dead for nineteen years?” Shuriken murmured. “Is that metaphorically, or…”

 

Is that when he lost his friends? Or when he gained his burns- no, wait, those were in the same event, right? Or maybe not… Is it referring to his mental state, maybe…?

 

“Maybe it’s when he got his burns.” Was what he settled on saying. Shuriken made an ohhh noise.

 

“That probably makes sense. But I don’t…” He paused. “I mean, nineteen years is a long time, right? What did he do during that time?”

 

Vine Staff trailed a finger around on the table. “Probably just… exist. If you wouldn’t want to live, and had no one to live for…” She dug her nails in, stopping her hand from moving any further. “I wonder, how long did adopting Princess keep him around for?”

 

“Vine?” Shuriken’s worried voice broke her train of thought. “You’re doing alright, yeah?”

 

She nodded, even though her brother couldn’t see. “...Yeah. Just thinking.”

 

Shuriken’s footsteps indicated that he was no longer with the letters. Presumably, he headed for the bathroom to check on that medication bottle.

 

“Shuri, don’t forget to clean up those letters.” Sling warned, feeling his heart rate spike again. “We can’t let him know we’ve been here.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, um…” Shuriken clicked his tongue in thought. “I was actually thinking that… I take them back?”

 

“What? Why?” Vine Staff narrowed her eyes, either in confusion or disapproval. “What happened to the whole ‘he doesn’t know we’ve been here’ thing?”

 

Her brother sighed as his footsteps transitioned from wood to tile; he must be in the bathroom now. “I’m just thinking. I don’t think he’ll notice that there’s a few papers gone from the, like, forty in the trash. And I- I guess I want proof, okay? Something that he can’t deny. I mean-” He huffed through the phone. “-you saw how he was lying at the cafe, right? He’s gonna just keep doing that, just like he keeps denying to everyone that he’s in love with our neighbor but we have proof saying otherwise! Y’see what I mean?”

 

A clicking noise, maybe him turning on a lightswitch, came through. “So, I’m just saying, if it gets to that point, then we should have some way of showing him that we know he’s lying. And I know, I know it’ll basically tell him that we’ve been digging in his apartment, but- holy shit, okay, the mirror looks a lot worse in the light.”

 

Shuriken’s interjection meant probably only one thing: if the mirror had “maybe” had blood on it when the light was off, then the display with the light on was probably a lot more obvious.

 

“Hm, alright, here’s the bottle. I, uh, have no clue what this word is, but…” A beat of silence. “It’s got instructions. ‘Consume twice daily… return bottle to Blackrock Pharmaceutical for refill by printed date.’ And the printed date is a few months ago. So…”

 

“...Not great.” Vine Staff filled in.

 

Definitely not. But there must be some other clue…

 

“Is there anything else?” Slingshot pressed. “Just keep looking, let us know if you find something.”

 

Shuriken murmured something that didn’t come through the phone. “There’s nothing else that’s sitting out, but I can look in the cupboards and stuff. I’ll let you know.”

 

But the next few minutes went by, and the phone may as well have been dead, because nothing was found and nobody spoke a word.

 

Shuriken moved on to wandering around the apartment, doing his best to find something incriminating on Hyperlaser’s current mental, but couldn’t find a thing of importance. There were things for cats, there was his rifle propped up near the door, and that was it. That was an issue they hadn’t thought of, Slingshot supposed. Was the inphernal simply a minimalist, or had he gotten rid of everything? He could be both; Hyperlaser wasn’t known to keep things. But no evidence besides notes and a slightly-poorly kept bathroom… wasn’t much to work off of.

 

When the idea of suicide came to Slingshot’s mind, he had imagined blood-stained blades that cut deep into skin until there wasn’t anything left to bleed. He had imagined ropes that hung from ceilings like a hoist into heaven, waiting for a person’s pull. He had, naively, assumed that there would be some grand sign that proved without a shadow of a doubt that someone was turned towards the worst, but– as he was realizing now– those ideas were fiction, and he had no idea what to look for.

 

Of course someone wouldn’t just leave out bloody knives. He berated himself. What a stupid idea. It’s never that easy.

 

The thought made him tense, and he gritted his teeth at himself. Why would you think like that? Why would you want there to be bloody knives?

 

He didn’t. He only wanted proof, and the only proof that came to mind was some childish conception of killing the self. They were never going to find anything, he realized. The most proof they’d get was what they already found. If Hyperlaser had possessed anything incriminating, then he hadn’t kept it or it didn’t exist at all.

 

“...We should stop.” Slingshot sighed.

 

Vine Staff looked at him strangely, but after a moment she nodded in agreement. “Mhm. Hyperlaser could be home any second now, and we haven’t really found anything.”

 

Shuriken huffed through the phone. “It’s not even that late, we don’t know if he’s even coming back or if he’s staying the night at Katana’s again-”

 

“-It’s not about that.” Slingshot interrupted. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything. You’ve turned his whole place upside-down and- and we don’t even know what we’re looking for.” He exhaled unsteadily. “We’re lucky we even saw those letters. There’s no reason for Hyperlaser to have anything here that would indicate a plan to kill himself-”

 

Slingshot shoved his head into his hands as another realization wormed its way into his mind, and he nearly screamed in agony at his own stupidity. “-for fuck’s sake, his gear is a gun! He doesn’t need knives or any of that, he doesn’t even need to be here to grab his rifle, he could be anywhere when he summons it and one shot at himself and-”

 

He tried, he really did, to keep talking, but his throat involuntarily closed, and he was left with clenched hands and eyes that threatened to drop tears. 

 

It’s not fair, he stubbornly thought. I’m trying to help but my stupid body won’t let me. And Hyperlaser isn’t being obvious, and he doesn't want help at all, and- 

 

From the corner of his vision, Vine Staff looked away, hiding her own expression, but her wooden arm reached out across the table and landed on his back. The smoothened wood of her fingers moved comfortably up and down in a soothing motion, like cradling a newspawn, and Slingshot looked down in humiliation. Everyone else was managing to be more kept together than him. Why couldn’t he get his act straight? How was he helping?

 

Shuriken didn’t respond for a moment, and briefly, Slingshot wondered if his own anxiety was getting the better of him and making him too harsh, but eventually his brother sighed in return, and Slingshot closed his eyes in relief, knowing his brother wasn’t going to argue.

 

“...You’re right, Sling. Let me grab those letters I pulled from the trash, ‘n then I’ll head out.”

 

“Okay.” Slingshot mumbled hoarsely, setting his head back down on the table atop his arms. 

 

“Get home safe, please.” Vine stressed, fiddling with her sleeve. “We’ll be waiting for you back at the apartment, I think– right, Sling?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Cool. Okay, um. Be home in under two hours.” was the last thing their brother said before he hung up the call, and the two of them were left in tired silence at the cafe once more. The afternoon light seeping through the windows did nothing to lift the tension, and it was only made worse when Slingshot looked at the cafe itself.

 

Dirt was trailed on the floor. Unwashed dishes sat in the sink. The countertop tablet glowed softly, awaiting the next customer’s payment. The whole place still carried the filth of the lunch rush, unforgivingly uncleaned.

 

Despite everything, they still had to properly close the store.

 

“...Do you wanna take sweeping while I count today’s bux?” He managed to say, despite feeling no actual desire to move.

 

Vine’s smileless face properly dipped into a frown. “Right, we have to… that’s fine, yeah. As long as you take inventory.” Her eyes were reluctantly pulled towards the broom, sitting tauntingly behind the counter, a stark reminder that they had their own life to attend to when not investigating someone else’s “And I’ll… do the counters and windows too, I guess.”

 

Slingshot sighed, deeper this time, and slid his body off of the table and walked to the register. The box opened with an unsatisfying click– something inside of it had been broken for months, but nobody knew exactly what– and revealed the money within. The process of thumbing through ones, then fives, then tens of bux was nothing less than mind-numbing, and as he wrote down profits, despite it being four PM at the latest, his eyes were involuntarily closing. The quiet swish-swish of Vine sweeping the floor didn’t help in the slightest. A shake of his head wasn’t what stopped it, but rather a reminder from the online receipts.

 

Slingshot gripped his pen tightly, rereading the day’s earnings on the counter tablet, an empty stress building back up in his throat. Ordinarily, closing early would guarantee significantly less profits. But today…

 

Fifteen thousand bux.

 

…Today they had been generously covered. And Slingshot didn’t want any of it.

 

—

 

Hyperlaser never talked to Biografts.

 

They were a waste of time. They were a waste of resources. Anything they could do, an inphernal could do it better. And with how quickly they were implemented, they felt nothing short of insulting to everyone who worked- nay, slaved away for the Korblox administration, all for them to be tossed aside in favor of machine.

 

So when he’s stopped by one on some random street in Crossroads, it does nothing but sour his mood.

 

(Not like how he feels matters; he only needs a few more days.)

 

“HYPERLASER.” It blares like it owns the street, keeping pace with his every footstep. “CREATOR REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE. IT IS NOT A QUESTION.”

 

Hyperlaser ducks down an alleyway in an attempt to, if not shake the machine from his tail, then lead it to a place where nobody will hear it. “I already told them. I’m not coming back.” And with an aggravated huff, he glances behind him, looking at the metallic, lifeless eyes of the machine designed to replace him. “Besides, it being a ‘request’ means I have the option to say no. And I will.”

 

It whirred in response. “YOU ARE FOOLISH. THE LONGER YOU RUN AWAY FROM YOUR DUTY, THE HARSHER CREATOR’S PUNISHMENT WILL BE.”

 

Hyperlaser could almost laugh. This Biograft had the wrong idea; working for Subspace was a punishment in itself. An option of return held no merit whatsoever. The outcome was going to be the same, regardless of which of the two sent his body to the ground: Subspace, or himself.

 

“DO NOT RESIST ME. DO NOT MAKE ME CALL FOR REINFORCEMENTS.” It demanded, like it had the authority to do so.

 

“Why not?” He taunted. 

 

From there, a very sudden idea emerged from a dark, dark place in his heart. It wrapped around this throat, choking him, forcing him to pay attention.

 

He would summon his gear, and would ‘miss’ the Biograft in front of him. It would call for backup, and he would do his best to fight against a close-ranged crowd of merciless machines in a valiant stand against the system. But alas, he would fall, left to rot in that alleyway like the scum he always was. How tragic, his friends would think– and who was he kidding with that one; there were only four people he would call friends and one of them needed him dead too– and would cry. But then they would remember all the wrong he had brought, and then everyone would move on. His body might not even be found. No one would go looking for it, after all. His death would silently transform the world from a world with Hyperlaser to a world without.

 

It thrilled him.

 

And, after envisioning the scene like a fantasy, he reached out, feeling the pulse of energy as his gear was summoned from wherever he had left it last– Katana’s, maybe, he didn’t remember– and, grasping the newly-formed weight-

 

But Princess will be lonely.

 

Hyperlaser stopped, the glow in his hand disappearing in an instant. That’s right; he was too early, he still needed to send off his cat. His impatience shouldn’t put an innocent like her at risk.

 

“ARE YOU ATTEMPTING TO RESIST?” The Biograft strode forward, demanding. “STAND DOWN.”

 

“...’m not resisting.” Hyperlaser raised his palms. If he wasn’t going to die, then he had to get out of this.

 

The machine circled him like a wary dog, energy swords drawn. Hyperlaser made no move to object. It would leave an opening eventually. Subspace may be the lead bioengineer, but that didn’t mean they could program an android without fault.

 

“THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNBECOMING.” It almost snarled, mimicking inphernal distaste. “YOU ARE A SOLDIER. ACT LIKE IT.”

 

Is this what Subspace had told them to do? To berate Hyperlaser like a newspawn until he felt guilty enough to return? Or was this machine only repeating what it had heard? Maybe its only preprogrammed ambition was for uniformity, and Hyperlaser had denied it by denying Subspace. And so it sought to remedy this through threat. The prompt didn’t matter; its efforts would always be fruitless.

 

Doesn’t it know? He humorlessly thought. I’ve got nowhere to go but up. And I’ve got no reason to bother.

 

“I’m no soldier. Not anymore.”

 

He wasn’t a soldier anymore. He was breaking free of a thirty-eight year old cycle through the only means he saw fit.

 

It slowed, meeting him in the eyes. With its arms lowered, it asked, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

 

“I’m not a soldier anymore.” He repeated. “I won’t work for Korblox. Tell Subspace that if they need me to keep doing their dirty work, they can go to hell.” The last part was spat out, as if the words themselves were filthy in his mouth. The Biograft continued to stare inquisitively.

 

“...THEN WHAT IS YOUR DIRECTIVE?” It looked him up and down, like the answer would be somewhere on his clothes. “WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE?”

 

Fucking nothing. I’m worthless.

 

“I have no purpose. Not with Subspace. Not with Korblox. Not with Blackrock.” Hyperlaser lowered his palms as his hands gripped into fists. “You can’t make anything out of me anymore. I’d rather die-” He was being openly honest now, it seemed. “-than continue to be used to make this world worse.”

 

The Biograft entered a battle-ready stance, blades pointed for his throat as it took his words for a threat. “REQUEST PROCESSED. YOU WILL DIE.” Its voice blared, a mechanical judge decreeing its verdict. The siren song of death called his name, beckoning him forward to atone, and Hyperlaser only invested effort to resist so that he could ensure Princess would not become a victim as well. She should not be forced to starve because of his own incompetence. 

 

Perhaps he was mad, thinking that those in his life would want some kind of closure with him. But he hung onto that thought as a lifeline, and took a step backward.

 

The Biograft matched his step by prowling forward, its metal feet clanking against the ground. “IT IS IMPRESSIVE, WE WILL ADMIT.” It continued to speak, though Hyperlaser didn’t know why.

 

He scoffed. “Tell me.” He demanded, continuing to walk backward. “Tell me what about myself is impressive.”

 

They dashed forward, an attempt to slash at his abdomen, but Hyperlaser focused, summoning a grenade and hurling it directly at the machine’s face. They staggered at the flash, head whirling around like a weathervane as they attempted to reorient themself. “TO HAVE NO PURPOSE.” It elaborated with a creak, optics once more locking onto the inphernal. “EVERYTHING IN BLACKROCK HAS A PURPOSE. EVERYTHING HAS A ROLE TO FULFILL, REGARDLESS OF HOW WELL IT IS ABLE TO BE EXECUTED.” They slashed again, missing by mere inches. “JUST AS WE WILL EXECUTE YOU.”

 

“How clever.” Hyperlaser praised sarcastically, finally summoning his railgun into his hands. He raised his gear to block one swing from the Biograft, then another, before he shoved the gun against their chest and forcefully shoved them backwards. They stumbled, balance disrupted.

 

“EVERYTHING IN BLACKROCK WORKS. INPHERNALS WORK. MACHINES WORK. WE WORK.” Their vocals stuttered for a moment as Hyperlaser shot at them, the light ray piercing through their shoulder and temporarily rendering that arm unusable. “I WORKED FOR 24 HOURS TO FIND YOU AND SUBDUE YOU.”

 

“And you failed. How will you tell Subspace that, hm?” He mocked, kicking the Biograft in the chest and searing off their other arm entirely with a concentrated, close-ranged shot. They slammed against the alleyway wall, the useless arm clattering to the ground as the blade that it held went dim.

 

“I-I MOST LIKELY WILL NOT.” Now its vocals had really taken a toll; the words were mixed with static in a back-and-forth tug-of-war. “YOU-OU ARE GOING-G TO KILL ME. AS MUST BE YOUR NEW PURPOSE.”

 

Hyperlaser briefly froze, before he gritted his teeth. “It is not my new purpose. I don’t have one-”

 

“ALL-LL THINGS HAVE PURPOSE. EVEN-EN IF THAT PURPOSE IS PO-O-OORLY THOUGHT.” It chattered on. Hyperlaser wished it would stop talking; all it spouted was nonsense. He kicked their energy blade out of their still-attached hand and pointed his railgun directly at their head. They didn’t seem to care.

 

Stop talking.

 

“EVEN I-IF YOU HAVE FOOLISHLY-LY CONVINCED YOURSELF OTHERWISE, YOU SERVE A PURPOSE. IT SHOU-OULD BE TO SERVE BLACKROCK. BUT YOU HAVE MADE IT SOMETHING NEW-W.” The Biograft shuddered, attempting to stand once more, but Hyperlaser planted his foot on their chest and pressed down harshly. “THE ONLY WAY-AY ONE COULD HAVE NO PURPOSE O-OR OBJECTIVE IS IF THEY WERE DEAD.”

 

Stop talking.

 

“I am dead. I’ve been dead as long as I can remember.” He snarled, placing all of his weight on his foot in an attempt to cave Biograft’s chest in. The metal groaned in protest. “Just because Blackrock dressed me up and told me to roll over doesn’t mean I’m any less dead.”

 

The Biograft’s remaining limbs jerked uselessly. “YOU A-ARE A LIAR. YOU ARE ALI-IVE. YOU ARE KI-I-ILLING ME.”

 

“Shut up!” He shouted, feeling a humiliating heat burn in his eyes. In a useless attempt to intimidate the machine into silence, he hovered his finger over the trigger of his railgun, pressing its tip forcefully against their head. “You don’t know a thing. All you Biografts, you’re all as idiotic as ever. You’re just saying-”

 

“WHAT IS YOUR NEW PURPOSE, HY-HYPERLASER?” The Biograft’s volume infuriatingly refused to lower, its ordinarily bright horns now flickering between on and off. “WHERE DO YOU-OU PLAN TO GO? -GO? NOW THAT YOU HA-AVE LEFT BLACKROCK?”

 

With a cry (it could have been out of anything; fury, humiliation, agony, fear– why did he still feel those?) Hyperlaser reared his rifle back and swung it into the Biograft’s head like a club. The metal dented with a loud clank, but it didn’t kill, so he brought the rifle back once more and swung it again.

 

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

 

Over and over, until its face was a disfigured mess. It spoke anyways, voice crackling like a live wire.

 

“YOU-UR TEMPERATURE IS RIS_ING-ING. YOU- _ATTERY-Y LOW- YOUR HEART RATE I-IS RISING.”

 

“Stop talking.” His voice had grown hoarse, despite the lack of conversation on his end. If he had still been able to cry, then tears would have been threatening to fall, and the very thought ripped at his heart. “Stop talking. Stop talking to me-”

 

“HYPER-HYPERL_SER-R-R-”

 

“Stop saying my name.” His voice hitched, his breaths grew quickened. “It means nothing to you. You know nothing. You know nothing. You know nothing.”

 

What is happening to me?

 

Its head twitched, a final act of defiance as its speaker pitifully emitted another sentence. “WHAT-AT IS IT LIKE BEING-G AL_VE? COULD-OULD Y_U TELL ME?” It requested, as if taunting him. “WHY-Y DO Y-YOU HATE BEING AL_VE?”

 

No. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT-

 

It took a minute before Hyperlaser realized he was yelling. Biting his lip so hard he could taste blood, he threw his rifle to the side entirely and punched the Biograft in its already damaged face. His hand screamed in pain at the harsh contact, skin flaring in agony, but he couldn’t care less. He punched again, straddling the collapsed body as he did nothing but be as violent as possible, just as he had been spawned to be. With every hit, the machine jerked, as if flinching from impact. It was thrilling. It was addicting. It was exactly the kind of violence that Blackrock had wanted from him, and without even needing to coax it out they had gotten him to naturally oblige. He almost laughed; what a wonderful example he was being right now! His heart pulsed like a predator, as it should always be. Hyperlaser punched over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

 

The Biograft clattered to the floor.

 

The alleyway became silent, save for his own labored breaths and pounding heart.

 

…Fuck.

 

It was plain as day. He was dangerous. He needed to go.

 

Still panting, he looked down at his gloved hands. The leather itself hadn’t torn, but his fingers hurt with an intensity so high that he couldn’t stop them from shaking. Under the glove, he was sure to be bleeding.

 

Shakily, he stood, dusting his clothes off and thinking his plan over.

 

He had already stopped at Thieve’s Rest. He had given away the rest of his bux– it wasn’t a lot, barely over a month’s rent in Blackrock, but he wouldn’t need it anymore. Katana wouldn’t take it, Hyperlaser already knew. Katana would have known something was wrong. His three neighbors could take it and use it well. They were smart, and he trusted them.

 

He wasn’t sure why Slingshot had been so reluctant to take the money. They were running a business; surely they wanted money, right? He wasn’t breaking some rule of theirs by giving it all away, right?

 

Shit, if it was a rule then I forced the money down their throat anyway. 

 

If Shuriken was what Hyperlaser used to be, then Slingshot was what he should have been. An organized, morally-upstanding inphernal capable of saying no. Someone with passion, someone with relations, someone who understood the rights and wrongs of working through life. Someone who worked hard and wasn’t there to follow orders. Everything he thought of, Slingshot was the opposite, so it was only appropriate he gave his resources to someone who could make much better use of them.

 

Hyperlaser’s legs grew shaky, and he leaned against the alley wall for support. His body threatened to give out, knees begging to kiss the ground and bleed. It was an entirely unexpected side effect of eating next to nothing for days, but he couldn’t stomach anything. He was lucky enough when he had managed to get more than two bites in at Thieve’s Rest; taking food from somebody else who deserved it more made him want to vomit. His helmet was a miracle worker, hiding his gag from the three behind the counter.

 

(Not that much would come out.)

 

The memory of eating the toast, even now, made his stomach roil. It was perfect; Slingshot had done a phenomenal job. But it was wasted on someone who didn’t deserve the energy, and wouldn’t be needing any more in just a few days.

 

Fuck, he just kept taking and taking. Hyperlaser’s already unsteady breathing hitched with every shaky exhale, dry heaving. He hadn’t had any energy from food. He’d barely gotten any energy from sleep. He’d just spent a ton of it on battering a Biograft like it was a toy, he’s-

 

Horrible, horrible, horrible-

 

Hyperlaser looked around frantically. He should have taken the opportunity to properly die with open arms but stupidly, selfishly, he remained. That was wrong. He was wrong. He was dead but his heart was beating. He was burdening everyone but they kept him around. His unsteady hands peeled off one of his gloves and yep, he was right, his fingers were bloodied and bruised, what did he expect? His chipped nails, disgusting, shakily ran up his body and under his helmet, dragging across the skin of his face. It felt nothing but painful, and it was less than he deserved.

 

He repeated the action near his eye, then on one of his cheeks, then down to his neck. The already irrecoverable skin became even further vandalized, streaks of red, raw scratches breaking the filthy waves of burn.

 

It wasn’t enough. Fuck, it wasn’t enough.

 

He needed more, he needed someone to beat him down. He needed someone else to recognize what a vermin-like creature he was, ugly down to the soul. And there was only one person he knew, even if they wouldn’t oblige right away.

 

Katana. He could make Katana see what a worthless act of an inphernal Hyperlaser was.

 

Staggering out of the alleyway, Hyperlaser moved for the nearest liquor store. He’d have to justify his visit, he reasoned, and alcohol would be the perfect way to do so. Once inside, he moved towards the third row, where they kept the sake that Katana preferred most. He knew it by heart (but he shouldn’t be allowed to have anything of Katana’s tainted by his heart) and grabbed a bottle. There was no need to show ID; the storeowner knew of him well enough already. With the way he was walking, they probably assumed he had gotten drunk before even entering the store.

 

He pressed his card into the card reader to pay, only to be met with a shrill beep. Fuck, that’s right, he already gave all his bux away. He silently swore. Perhaps that was the draw of final sendoffs, even if he shouldn’t have anything to his name. It was a good thing he still had some leftover bills in his wallet, enough for the bottle. Without hesitation, he pulled the required amount out onto the counter, and left without a single word, bottle in tow.

 

The minutes to Katana’s apartment each felt like an eternity. Hyperlaser needed his comeuppance, before he did anything else. How exactly he’d convince the inphernal whom he’d already no doubt corrupted that he needed to go- well, he’d let the alcohol do as much work as possible. And then he’d– an insane relief flooded him– and then he’d-

 

Hyperlaser knocked on the door.

Notes:

If all your friends tried to commit suicide via cop would you do it too? ok now what if there were no friends but there was still the option to commit suicide via cop