Chapter Text
Purple watched as the small electronic mosquito flew around his room. He’d been working on this for the better part of a year, and he’d finally completed it. Father had come to him and asked for his help for the creation of these tech. They were to carry the mutagen his Papa had been working on for years. He’d created it once before- twelve years ago, when Purple himself was first mutated. But due to the rarity of the substances required to create the mutagen, progress was slow. It didn’t help that his father’s lab had been destroyed, sending him back years in terms of development of the mutagen.
But they were so close now. With a new way to spread the mutagen through Purple’s mosquitech, the actual plan that Father had could actually be played out. And the plan would be successful, in small part, because of Purple. And that made him excited and proud.
The small mosquitech landed in the palm of his hand, its mechanical wings twitching. He took a deep breath in, and then left his room on the second floor of the main laboratory.
Father’s home was large- one of the largest buildings in the Outlaw’s Oasis. It was third to Big Mama’s Auction House and Battle Nexus, but was still a grand structure in the hidden part of the Hidden City.
He left the laboratory through one of the large doors, which led him to the grand hallway of Draxum’s manor. It connected to the kitchen, living room, and library. The large home was empty and quiet for the most part, although if Purple were a stranger to the home, he would’ve expected it to be the home of Gatsby from The Great Gatsby . But he knew his father, and he knew that he didn’t care for parties or expensive, extravagant shows of wealth.
No, his father was a noble man. He was a man of honor and intelligence, and a man that loved the yōkai, even if they cast him out more than a decade ago. Afterall, they were the reason for Father’s interest in alchemy- the reason why he created Purple.
“The humans will destroy the yōkai,” Father had told him over and over again. “That is why we must eliminate the human threat- so the yōkai may thrive.”
And we’re so close to achieving that, Purple thought with glee as he rounded the corner and entered the living room, where Huginn and Muninn slept soundly in their dog bed near the fireplace. He looked at the mosquitech in the palm of his hand. And I’m going to be part of it.
“Purple?” The voice of his father caused him to turn around swiftly. Purple opened his mouth to answer, but his father was already speaking. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be working on my mosquitos?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here!” Purple said, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’ve completed them!”
“You’ve… completed them,” Father repeated, raising a brow in skepticism. “They are fully functional? No bugs or errors?” His father was inspecting the thing closely, and he took it out of Purple’s hand with a hint of curiosity.
“The only bug is the thing itself… haha,” Purple chuckled awkwardly, before coughing to clear its throat. “But yes, Father. There are no errors. I’ve been testing it for a week and I haven’t encountered any issues with its operation.”
Father hummed noncommittally, and Purple felt his anxieties grow. A small part of him wondered if the universe would curse him with a malfunction in this moment, where the flawlessness of his craft was paramount. His father turned it over, observing it closely in doubt, before placing it back in Purple’s hand. The mutant tried to understand what his father was feeling, as he often did. Why is it so hard to read him?
“I would like a demonstration,” Father said, pushing past Purple to take a seat at one of the large, fancy chairs that sat next to the fireplace. The other seat had been dusted recently, but despite this, Purple had never seen anyone sit in it. He had tried, once, when he was smaller to climb into the seat next to his father, before he was knocked down and scolded for his sense of entitlement.
Purple pushed away the memory, and held the small mosquito out in his palm. He tapped a few buttons on his tech gauntlet, and it began to fly into the air. Its wings, made from real elytras that were infused with the tiniest of wires and circuits, buzzed as it swirled around the room like a real mosquito would. To someone not aware of its truer purpose, it would be mistaken for a regular house fly.
Father hummed, his face still bored and unmoved from the presentation. Purple frowned, but swallowed his disappointment. If Father was unhappy with the mosquito, then that was Purple’s fault. I could’ve done better.
“And can it carry the mutagen?” Father asked, his focus on the mosquito flying around the room. It hung around both Muninn and Huginn, buzzing by both their mouths as they snored, still asleep.
“Yes- I’ve created it with a transparent compartment. It can penetrate skin and scales, and inject fluid into the victim. It feels no different from a regular fly’s bite. I’ve tested it on myself- and on Huginn and Muninn, neither of which noticed it wasn’t anything other than a bug,” Purple reported, confidence warming his chest as he spoke. He knew he was a great inventor- his Father often remarked about how much potential he had as a scientist. If only I could learn alchemy.
“Don’t be cocky,” Draxum said, his tone holding no real weight to the statement. “This will work. Well done, Purple.”
The turtle perked up, joy blossoming in his chest at the approval of his father. “Thank you, Father,” He said, dipping his head slightly in respect for the warrior alchemist. “Is there anything else that must be done?”
“Yes,” Draxum hummed, not making eye contact with him. He had a look on his face that let Purple know that he was thinking, so he didn’t dare interrupt his train of thought. “But not today.”
Purple took in a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. “Father, uh, can I make a.. Request? Or suggestion?”
“Yes, of course,” Father replied, looking down at Purple with an almost amused gaze.
“Well, you see, there’s only so much I can get here in the Hidden City,” Purple explained as he looked down at his feet, shuffling them anxiously. “Like, materials and parts wise. Which is fine! Like I’ve gotten by just fine up until now. But a lot of stuff is mystic and I don’t really work with-”
“Stop the rambling,” Father sighed, shaking his head. “You always ramble so much. Just get to the point.”
Purple hesitated for a moment. He’d been told this before, and always tried to get better at it. But he always felt the need to over-explain things. Everything he said felt like it needed a parenthesis, just to make sure he knew he was being understood. But he knew how impractical and annoying it was.
“I’d like to try going to the surface,” Purple said, as bluntly as he could manage. Straight to the point .
When Father failed to respond right away, Purple felt his anxieties heighten again. “It’d be beneficial to my work,” he explained quickly. “Materials from the surface could help enhance pre-existing and future tech that I create!”
“You want to go to the surface?” Draxum asked, looking unimpressed. “Why? Why would you ever want to go to the human realm?”
“Well, like I said, their technology doesn’t heavily rely on mystic powers,” Purple said. “A lot of stuff here does. It makes using some of the spare parts difficult. But the human world doesn’t rely on magic, so it’d be a better fit to use those scraps rather than the ones down here.”
“You know I can’t let you go to the surface,” Father said, standing up and making his way towards the door. Purple quickly rushed after him, following his stride closely.
“I’m fourteen now,” Purple argued. “I should be allowed to go! I can handle myself fine if I get into a fight, or if I need to run away.”
“You will die up there,” Father insisted with a darker tone, usually an indicator that he was done with the discussion. But Purple pushed on.
“Why don’t you trust me?” Purple asked, his heart aching in his chest. Just give me a chance!
“You’re a child,” Father said, stopping in his tracks. He turned to give his attention to Purple, his gaze dark and his features rigid. “Do you know what they will do to you if you’re caught? You’ll be tested on, experimented on. And once they were done with your mind, they’d kill and dissect you. You’d be their little science experiment! Is that what you want?! To be nothing more than a studied specimen?”
“No!” Purple said, surprised by the accusation. Does he really think that? “No, I don’t wanna be a science experiment.”
“Why are you trying to provoke me?” Father questioned. “Why are you trying to start a fight?”
“I’m not,” Purple insisted, confusion swimming in his head. Is that what I’m doing? Am I doing it without realizing? “I didn’t… I don’t want to fight with you.”
His father narrowed his gaze. His eyes looked tired behind the mask, and Purple wondered if his father was getting enough sleep. Without another word, he walked away from Purple, turning his back on his creation. The doors to the outside opened, and Draxum walked out of the house.
He’s probably going to watch the Battle Nexus , he thought. He’d often been taken to the Battle Nexus by Draxum, but Purple couldn’t stand being there. There were two places you could be: the VIP lounge with a bar (where most often placed bids on the fighters) or the stadium. Both places were awful- always too loud, too crowded, too smelly. It made Purple upset, and it felt difficult to stop from having a tantrum. It just felt like too much all at once, and it was horrible.
But now, he couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t focus on his father either, unless he wanted to feel the guilt clench his chest and attempt to suffocate him.
Instead, he found himself crawling back to his room, his heart heavy in his chest. As he entered his small room, he sighed. His spirits lifted, though, when he saw the perfect distraction. A machine he’d been working on for the past few months. It was almost complete. He took a seat on the floor and pulled the small thing towards him, and he began to work on the circuitry of his latest invention.
“Oh Pur ple ~” Muninn sang as he flew into Purple’s room. He took a perch on one of Purple’s shoulders, looking over to see the new contraption he had in his hands. “What’s that you got there?”
“None of your business,” Purple said coldly, trying to swat him away like he would a mosquito. “Don’t you have other things to do?”
“No,” Huginn said, perching on Purple’s other shoulder. Purple hadn’t taken note of the other gargoyle flying into the room, but it wasn’t as if they were ever apart. If Muninn was there, so was Huginn, and vice versa. “And seriously, what are you working on? Oooh, is it a present for me?”
“No, it is not,” Purple spat matter of tacitly, moving his shoulders in an uncomfortable way to force them off his shoulders. It worked, and they instead found their place next to his invention. “It’s a robot I am creating to have artificial intelligence that is equal to Yōkai. It’s going to assist me in creating more advanced technology and converse with me about ideas for more inventions.”
“So… a friend,” Muninn said, observing it loosely.
Huginn laughed, flicking it with one of his fingers. “You couldn’t befriend anyone so you were forced to literally make a friend!”
“Oh, buzz off ,” Purple grumbled, kicking his feet their way to make them leave his area. They immediately moved to avoid being kicked, and the turtle huffed in satisfaction. He turned his neck around to watch the both of them leave, cackling over their “success” of annoying Purple.
He twisted his neck back to its normal position, brushing away the frustration he felt towards the two gargoyles. He needed to put his feelings aside. He needed to work on this- so he could get better help when creating more inventions for Father.
And so I can have a companion, a selfish part of him thought, but he didn’t let himself think about it much more than that. He didn’t need a companion- he had the perfect life right here. He didn’t need anything else. But I do need a work partner, he told himself. Being a companion is just an added bonus.
“Shelldon,” he murmured to himself as he worked. He chuckled at the small joke, but a fondness for the robot friend who hadn’t even turned on for the first time was growing in his heart. He couldn’t wait to meet him.
Purple often forgot about eating, especially when he was knee-deep in a project. It seemed like everything else faded away from view, because his focus was entirely focused onto whatever he was working on. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pull all-nighters on accident or forget basic body hygiene in favor of his work.
Tonight, Muninn and Huginn had to forcibly drag him out of his room and force him to go to dinner. Draxum made it a point to sit down and eat with him often, wishing to not grow distant from his son. Which Purple appreciated- he did!
But as he entered the dining room, he was reminded of why sometimes he dreaded these nights. Draxum sat at the dinner table, already eating without Purple (which Purple didn’t mind, honestly). But on the table were two plates. And the plate left for Purple had an uneaten, tuna salad sandwich on it.
He stared at him, not moving his gaze from the disgusting food even as he sat down. The smell of the tuna and onions and celery was horrible, and he cringed just from the knowledge of how it felt to eat it. He hated tuna salad sandwiches. And it wasn’t just the taste- it was so much more. It felt so wrong to take a bite. Every unanticipated crunch made him anxious and nauseous, and he didn’t know if he could deal with that. He just stared at it, embarrassingly frightened by just the sight and smell. He hadn’t even taken a bite.
Just eat it, weirdo , he tried to tell himself. He flexed his fingers in anxiety. He could feel himself wanting to cry over it. And why? Why was he going to cry over a fucking tuna salad sandwich ? He picked up the sandwich and took a bite. The dry bread didn’t match the wet tuna. The wet tuna didn’t match the crunch of the onion and celery within the meat. It was all wrong . It didn’t go together. It didn’t go together. It didn’t go together. He took his napkin and spat out the piece of the sandwich, he balled it up, disgust building up in his chest. He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up into a ball and fucking cry. Why can’t I eat it?
“Is something wrong?” Father asked, his voice sweet and caring, his concern evident to Purple.
Purple nodded, but he didn’t know how to tell him. The words weren’t forming in his throat, and it felt too difficult to open his mouth to say anything. He just pointed to the sandwich weakly, shaking his head in defeat. I can’t eat it.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Draxum said. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s just…” Purple forced himself to speak, the words feeling foreign and heavy as he spoke. “I can’t eat it.”
Draxum rolled his eyes, but a small, fond grin was evident on his face. He pushed himself back in his chair, before standing up and moving towards the kitchen. He came back with a bag of ham. “You’ll have to learn how to eat tuna salad. You can’t just expect the world to bend over backwards for you being sensitive.”
“I know,” Purple murmured softly, taking a bite of his ham. It wasn’t the best, but it was safe. And he was eating it, so that mattered for something. He looked at the tuna salad sandwich with guilt and embarrassment. He wanted to be able to eat it- he really did. He wanted to be normal and not be sensitive. But he didn’t know how. There was no formula for being normal. And that sucked.
Draxum took the sandwich from Purple’s plate, before tossing it towards Huginn and Muninn. They briefly fought over it, before Huginn came out on top and cackled as he took it away to their dog bed. Father pushed his chair in, before walking around to stand by Purple.
“I need to attend to some business,” Father said, patting him softly on the shoulder. “I may need another invention from you in a few days' time. When I get the plans, it will be just outside your room. Do you understand?”
Purple nodded, to which Draxum hummed in approval. “I will see you tomorrow, my son. Goodnight.”
Purple watched his father leave the dining room, and he could hear the door to the house open and close, telling him that his father was gone. He nibbled on some more ham, before taking a few slices and putting the rest of it away. He could eat while he worked, he figured.
What would be just another few hours, anyways? He wouldn’t stay up too late.
Purple continued his work on Shelldon, hours passing by relentlessly. His eyes hurt and stung, but he continued and pushed forward with his work. He didn’t care. He was so close…
He blinked. For a long time. He just needed to open his eyes to finish the blink. A few seconds went by, and he forced himself to open his eyes. He wasn’t nodding off. Not at all. Definitely not.
He sighed, unable to lie to himself. He pushed Shelldon aside, wiping the sweat off his brow. He wanted to continue his work. Yōkai-like AI wasn’t something he’d ever been able to really perfect. Every attempt of his before now had failed, and he was worried this one would produce the same, sad result.
The mosquitech had been part of his goal to create more sophisticated and complex AI, but it couldn’t hold a conversation (both because it wasn’t supposed to, as Draxum had told him, and because it wasn’t the best conversation partner when he tried it out). But Shelldon was meant to be different.
He yawned, closing his eyes for a moment again, before snapping them back open. He needed to sleep. Won’t have enough mental energy to do this if I don’t get at least two hours of sleep , he told himself, pushing himself up from the floor and away from his prototype.
He turned off the light to his room, and crawled into his bed. He reached over to the floor next to his inflatable mattress, and grabbed a book with multiple bookmarks inserted into different pages. He curled up on himself, holding the book close to his chest as he closed his eyes. He drifted off into sleep.