It’s quiet at first, but you can tell something’s wrong.

The feeling only grows worse as you hear it, distant but echoing-

A key being wound, pauses in between the sounds of something tightening.

That was the sound before the chaos came.

Your line of sight travels upwards, and you see it break through the mess of pink and yellow clouds as the winding stops, a consistent whirring whine replacing it- a meteor, with a slowly-spinning key protruding from its back.

You don’t have anywhere to move. You barely fit on this pillar.

A pillar which extends so far into the sky,
you can't see anywhere close to the ground from atop it.

There's no room to even adjust your footing beyond assuming a batter’s pose, swallowing as you feel your flippers close to the edge.

This is it.

You have to end this.

but where did it start?

Laughter, familiar. A whirring sound and a hearty chuckle- your two best friends. One a mentor, the other something more.

You can’t remember their name.

A pause in the whirr.

The whirring becomes overpowering, a metallic whine piercing your ears and clouding your own voice.

The key winds, tightening.

The scene changes.

Dim, vertical bars of light shine throughout the makeshift shelter,
cutting between the strips of corduroy cloth.

A wind-up key turns and turns in front of you,
as you follow them along,
to a blanket on the floor.

A toy.

Liquid-filled.

You don't know the kind.

And it's dark in here.

They reach for your wrist with their clamping hands, guiding you forward.

When they speak, it's a breathy whisper that distorts and changes on every word, gentle at first.

Their voice gets a slight tinge of ice to it.

They step back once you're right in front of the sleeping toy, strangling a nervous squeak rising up in your throat as you see them stir, just slightly.

You raise your bat high over your head.

It looks like their body'll smash easy.

You look down.

Their eyes are open.

You-





Colors
swirling,
singing,
foaming together.

Sopping wet- Splashing,
strangling moisture,
of motion,
spatters on-
splatter over-

Coating new canvases,
in new coats,
of new-

-Colors-
Unlocking,
upholding,
unbolting a new

blue

hue

for-






Blurry eyes.

You can't see.




The bat's wet.
Stained with orange and violet.
Dripping on the floor.

You can barely hear-

You can't make out their voice. All you can do is wheeze, sobs choking through your squeaker. You can tell there's paint mixing in with the splatters of fluid on your face, on your clothes, everywhere-

Metal clamps onto your shoulder and you recoil, caught off balance.

Metal clangs across metal,
and you only see your companion as they're falling to the floor.

In the dark,
a long, heavy wrench raised at you,
trying to see through the dark to make any part of them out.

A loose tie hanging from their neck,
a glint of glass in the light,
and the wrench.

They're poised to swing,
but their shaded head tilts toward the end of your bat,
then the floor.

Their hold on the wrench loosens.

Your companion speaks up from the ground, their wind-up legs still cycling.

I remember-

You take a step back from the body, from D??????, the ground feeling as if it warps underneath your flippers.

Their gaze holds at the floor,

only for it to pop back up towards you with a sudden shift.

A downward swipe of the wrench comes fast,
seemingly aiming at your skull,
only for it to arc further down towards your right arm.

You cry out as the metal connects- while your body only physically dents in response, it feels like something shatters, failing to keep your grip on the bat completely.

It falls into the mass of plastic shards and swirling, horrible liquid pools, and you collapse, looking up at your assailant with wet eyes.

It takes a few blinks to realize they've already moved away from you,
kneeling to the toy on the mattress.

There's a loud BANG before you can react or reach out-

One you've heard many times before.

The stranger staggers and turns around,
raising the wrench up and tossing it at the wind-up toy.

It makes contact with their head, your metallic partner collapsing with the impact.

You're frozen.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

The standing figure is shaking,
now clutching their side as their body hitches.

They turn back around to face the figure on the floor,
only for the both of you to realize that they're gone,
presumably left at some point during the chaos.

You see their head turn to you one last time.

They don't stick around to listen.

They're gone before you know it.

Leaving you
alone with-

The key turns.

They mutter something under their breath that you can't catch.

Anger starts to burn in your chest.

They start walking up the steps to the safehouse, pausing on the veranda.

You can't react.

Piercing, stabbing pain.

It's dark.

Winding, tightening, more and more.

And then it's too bright.

You stand in front of a staircase,
looking at the door it leads to.

The bottom floor of this
home you don't recognize is
bright in so many colors that it
hurts your eyes.

Too much vibration.
Exhausting.





The upstairs door opens,
then shuts.

Before you know it,
you're at the top of the stairs,
standing in front of it.

You're nervous,
tense for reasons you don't understand.





You open the door anyway.










The room is dark.

Anything could be hiding.

Any outcome for you.

Probably bad.

Afraid.

Horizontal beams of orange light pierce in from the blinds in the window,
washing over everything in the room,
tainting all of it with stripes of color.
Thin, but
enough to be noticeable.

The first thing you notice.









Something tells you to stay anyway.
















Your eyes adjust.


A giant bed at the center,
a closet,
a fan in the corner.




Roots have sprouted up through the far side of the bed,
thorned and twisting.

Your legs don't want to carry you anymore.








The jagged roots look sharp.

You don't want more holes.

But you're tired.

You need to lie down.




Carefully,
carefully,
you slide up into the bed,
keeping distance from the thorns,
wincing as you expect to be punctured.





But it never comes.





It's almost more frightening that way.





One wrong twitch, and More Holes.














But it never comes.








You listen to the cool wind whistling outside.

The fan in the corner blows across you.

You hear the tiny, occasional click as the fan switches direction.



Eyes close.

And open.

There's a skylight above you.

But,




the roots have unfurled the next time you look.

Less sharp.
No longer leafless at the top, either.
You see a little greenery growing.










And you look through the skylight above you.




And you look at the moon.




And you watch the stars glow in the black-blue sky.









You breathe.

You hadn't known your breath was held.

But now,
you breathe.



Relief.















The fan blows something into your view.

Flickering like embers in the light.

Tiny.

Red.







You reach out and catch it.



A petal.

It's fragile,
but it's soft.







You look over in the direction it came from.

The far side of the room.








Two tiny buds have sprouted from the greenery.

One red.

The other-

A click, once, and then twice, something getting caught-

Surrounded by plastic trees, holding a familiar hand. There's other figures around you, but you can't make them out.

Just hers.

Someone's foot skids behind you,
pushing into the dirt and dragging.

You turn to check.

Just in time to see them stumble,
and fall to their knees,
trying and failing to catch themself.

You can't see them.

The trees cut lines through the moonlight,
keeping them in shadow,
you can only see the shape of them,
as they collapse onto their side and writhe.

Before you can move to check on them, your wing-hand is caught in a vice grip, enough to bend the rubber.

You whip around and see Cross' face glitching, pixels spreading out in distorted slices.

She staggers back, clutching her head-

You watch as it cracks like an egg, wide open, from the left side of her face to the right.

All you can do is freeze in horror as her hands burst, plastic replaced with glowing flame. The halves of her head fall like a hood around her neck, a horned canine skull unfurling. She's getting bigger, towering over you, wings spreading and growing large enough to surround her body. Her chain tail lashes and shifts, splitting into three, the round bit at the end turning into spade shaped spikes-

She barely manages to point back behind you.

A sickening crack echoes from behind you.

You swivel,
finding the figure still wreathed in shadow,
its form distorting as it begins to turn bright red.

Some shape unfurls,
but it's all blurry,
as the red color is growing more pronounced across it,
brighter and stronger.

A vague approximation of a head pushes forward enough to leave shadow,
only to stay in some incomprehensible shape.




There's a sound,
something cutting through air at top speeds,
whistling-


THWACK.

Loud enough to nearly knock you backwards,
something's in your eyes,
you wipe the red away, stinging,
and gaze down to find-

The head

popped open
Colors
as before

in the damp remains of the exploded skull,

you find a heavy wrench-

Dug so hard into it during its pulverizing plunge
to have stuck itself into the ground,
standing tall

red in your eyes


on your hands


your hands-







Holding the bat.

The meteor's ticking, approaching faster and faster.

You blink and try to shake off the blurry, bleary feeling- you feel like you've run a marathon, everything cascading into this moment, right here, right now-

A rumbling pulls your attention away,

turning your attention as a tower - just like yours - rises up into place not far from you


a figure at its top.




Obscured by an unnatural dark



clutching the wrench



stained with red at its end.





Somehow,
you know their featureless head is staring at You.

You can't find the words.

Every part of you wants to apologize, but there's no time, the meteor's coming straight for you-

Your hands are losing their grip.

The figure breaks into a sprint,
raising the wrench as they get closer and closer to you.

All you can do is brace yourself, holding the bat out like a miserable, useless shield.

You ready yourself for impact.

Your eyes close.



There's a slick noise of shoes sliding on glass.

You look up, shaking.
Roulette stands over you,
leaning down a little to check on you.

It's wielding your claw hammer in both hands.

It stands, processing for half a moment.

You hesitate.

Your wing shakes-

But you raise your bat again.

It takes a few steps beside you,
raising your hammer in the same stance,
with the opposite hand - the two of you across from each other.

The meteor looms closer.

You might be melting.
You can't quite tell.
Roulette's chassis is brewing smoke.

The whirring is overwhelming, every turn of the key sending shock waves down your back-

It's your turn to wind up now, readying for impact despite the pain.

It wipes its forehead, and lowers its stance.

The meteor's here.

It says something else.

The meteor is too loud.

Roulette swings.

You match its movements.

You squeeze your eyes shut as both weapons make contact, the heat boiling both of you at this point.

It's so much pressure, it's too much, you're going to die here-

The whirring stops.

No more turns.




You wake up in a cold sweat, eyes wide open.

...you don't tell Tim or Cross about this one.

...
.....

Another week passes.

Your sleep has been dreamless, to the point where it scares you a little. Work is good, your friends are great, and you've got a regular work schedule now. Monday through Thursday, weekends off.

You can tell Cross is restless, though. Something's on her mind, every time you're together.

What do you ask?

You lean against the arm of Cross’ couch, trying to look nonchalant.

She’s in her projected form, something you’ve grown very big on in the past few weeks. You don’t know what it is about having a ghost for a best friend- not that you don’t also love the plastic shell- but it feels so cool.

…kissing the ghost is also a nice bonus.

She smiles with her eyes a bit at that, following it with a sigh.

A chill runs down your back, but you try to remain calm, cool as a cucumber.

Cross blinks, turning back to look at you.

All of a sudden, she’s leaning in, her spooky eyes peering straight at you.

She starts making hand gestures you can barely comprehend.

She clasps your wings in her hands, startling you a bit.

Cross nods, her energy perking up immensely.

You think about your dream.

About the wind-up toy.

About the toy with the wrench.

About the pain Cross was in.

Cross looks at you with concern in her eyes, giving your wings a squeeze.

She pulls away a little, still keeping her gaze trained at your face.

She leaves the moment open for you to respond, but you’re struggling to find any words. You don’t know how to articulate any of what you went through with that dream, everything blurring into each other, the raw feelings of terror still palpable-

She’s still looking at you.

Cross is quiet for a few moments, thinking it over.

From the look Cross gives you, you must be making a hell of a face.

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension easing up a bit.

Cross’ eyes light up, and she’s back to grabbing your hands.

Her eyes well up with little embers, the closest thing she has to tears in this form.

You pull her in for a hug before you even realize what you’re doing, and she eagerly returns it.

You sit straight up and pull away, looking over at Cross’ oven clock.

Cross leans in for a little kiss, which you readily return.

You share another kiss before you get up, grabbing the drawstring backpack that Vine surprised you with.

You decide to live dangerously and text Tim along the way, nearly stumbling down the stairs as you punch in a quick message.

Surprisingly, you get a message back right away.

You walk into the kitchen with a lot on your mind, but after greeting Vine and Beans, you’re back in the zone. Today you’re making pizza, something new to the menu here at the bar, but it’s not too hard. Plus, you get to go nuts with toppings.

Even with your newfound focus, though…

Vine confronts you on your break.

You rub the back of your head.

You nod.

You blink, taken aback.

The bean bear takes a minute to think, every moment spent without any talking filling you with anxiety.

Vine nods, crossing her arms and leaning back.

Vine takes a second to think.

The bean bear gives you a pat on the back, and your conversation flows back into work stuff, how Laurie’s is doing…

And before you know it, you’re back in the kitchen, a proper pizza making machine. The hours pass by without you even realizing it, and as you pack up your backpack to go, Vine waits by the door out to the bar.

She leads you out, and starts taking you to a booth on the side.

Sitting there is a tall purple knitted toy, she has her hands wrapped tightly around a glass and is mumbling quietly to herself. As you get closer, you notice the wings she has on her back begin to shake and jitter before she slowly turns towards you.

...you haven't seen a knitted toy in a while, but it's...familiar.

You are definitely staring too long.

Vine elbows you.