Chapter Text
Macaque, the daft demon he is, grumbles to himself as he yoinks the nail hammer he held away from his other hand. Carelessness got him there. The pain in his finger wasn’t unbearable, but he still instinctively tried to shake off the throbbing soreness. Rapidly flicking his hand in the air. Incoherently, grumbles flooded from his mouth (‘incoherent’, because he can’t actually think of anything worthwhile to say in the silence. No use complaining, as it was only himself that brought him here. What was he to complain about? His own stupidity? Yeah. Probably that) as it had been for the last few hours. The only difference being is that he was much more frustrated, and much more grumpy. Resulting in the noises being louder.
Maybe it was the looming and overwhelming thoughts regarding all of the work he had to do in here that was making him spiral. The sheer amount of broken benches scattered all over the place. After every single one his eyes glanced at, all gradually seemed to look worse. One after another, looking more deep, large, and dug into than the previous one. Pillars looked more unstable and threatened to make the roof collapse, curtains were ripped all over the place (not that they haven't been ripped previously, while those curtains before only had some holes and jagged edges, these curtains looked like they had been torn to shreds. More than half of the fabric is gone), and he could still see some smashed glass pieces from broken lanterns, still on the ground, having missed it when he had swept the floor a while ago.
If he let himself dwell on it too much (which he very much did) he could remember every single thing that he did that created every damage. Every crater where he got MK fell down into, where the shadows of the kid’s friends hit and missed, and especially the place where he himself was nearly skewered by MK, right in the middle of the stage.
Speaking of the stage, He had a good view of the mess from it. It's where he sat now. Not exactly in the spot of the major impact but a little bit of ways away from it. Close enough (probably too close for comfort) to the spot where the Mayor practically choked them.
Jeez… the Mayor…
He glances around the room, reimagining that battle that had come after that absolute jumpscare. He’s not sure how much damage that specific fight had created, but it probably contributed somewhat (it had to be more than just ‘somewhat’).
Regardless, he’s trying to fix the stage floor boards. But it was hard when all of the planks had been basically levelled. Maybe he should have just started from scratch again. Do some heavy lifting to just get rid of the stage’s floor all together, and fill the gap with new wood. So while his finger throbs from being hit by the hammer, and while the nail on the ground remains loose, he contemplates if he should rethink his plan to reconstruct this theatre room.
Too much work, he thinks to himself grimly, and he lets out another incoherent grumble. Without caring for where the hammer would land, he tossed it away. Only to use his freed hand to press against his forehead. Trying to get his thoughts running in a way that would actually be useful.
…he should sweep the floor again. Clean up any stray bits and bobs he left lying around. Seeing the glass and the small bits of rubble still on the ground was starting to piss him off. Badly. But what good would sweeping do? He should actually fix something before the theatre manager comes back. Or at least, be in the middle of doing it, otherwise he’s sure he’ll get an earful. A nice long angry tangent that he can’t really do anything about. Not that he’d be offended or saddened by a scolding but it would sure annoy him.
In the end he portals the broom he had placed on the other side of the room back to where he sat. Letting out a silent huff as he grabbed it and stood up. Cracking his back and stretching his spine. He’s been sitting on the ground for ages, trying to fix the stage. Yeah, maybe he really did need to move onto something else.
He supposes the worst thing about this isn’t that it's difficult to do. ‘Doing it’ was easy. He knows what he needs to fix because it's as obvious as anything. Problem is, he just doesn’t know how . Forget about the floorboards for a second and the benches, that was easy, compared to the wooden pillars at least. How was he supposed to fix that? Would he actually just have to buy some trunks of wood and carve out a new pillar- multiple pillars? Paint and engrave and make it all spick and spam until it looked how it was before?
Yeah. Probably. That's probably what he had to do. But saying it was so much easier said than done. He’s already thinking about it now. He’ll have to figure out where the fuck to even buy wood that big, or if not then how he was supposed to stick small pieces of wood together to actually be the sizes of these pillars. And then he would have to take actual measurements of the broken pillars and guess how long the new ones had to be. And then he was going to have to carve out the new pillars, and engrave all the little bits and bobs and make sure that the bottom bit is bigger and more stabilised at the bottom and then he has to paint the damned pillars- he’s going to have to somehow find the exact same coat of paint to paint the damned things and then he’s going to have to polish it all and then somehow get rid of the old pillars without destroying this place and then finally he has to put the new pillars up-
Why does this all have to be so hard?! Fixing things shouldn't be this hard if it was so easy to break them. This place was ruined as if it was a piece of paper, ripped to pieces. But he supposes mending a piece of paper would be difficult. Given that the only way to actually fix it would be to shred it all up and turn it into mulch and turning it into a new piece of paper, perfectly fine and-
Fuck. He’s getting carried away with himself, and he doesn’t want to continue down that train of thought.
The shadow demon groans quite loudly to himself as he aggressively sweeps the floor. Thoroughly pissed off that his mind was not doing anything useful, and was only making things worse. The only thing he can finally realise though is the fact that if anything should be fixed first, it should be the pillars. Without them fixed, this place could collapse any minute, and if the room really was to collapse during the process of replacement? Then at least he didn’t waste any extra time making the rest of the room perfect beforehand.
When he turned to the centre of the room, eyeing a piece of one of the pillars that had been lodged into the audience bench (by far, it had caused the biggest crater in the room with its impact), he decided that, yeah. Alright. I should fix the pillars first.
~~~
He bumped into the Mayor in a hardware store.
It was like the guy had appeared out of the blue while Macaque had been staring at the different types of nails for the past half an hour. Too engrossed and too concentrated in trying to figure out what the right ones he needed were. He nearly jolted when he heard the Mayor greet excitedly beside him. But his fur did stand on edge as he snapped his head over to the other. His face, a mix between a passive aggressive smile and an agitated look.
“Hello! I did not expect to see you here!” They greeted with a wide grin. Typical. Their pristine office suit didn’t fit in a warehouse like this. The air too thick with saw dust for comfort, and the slight head of the metal walls trapping in the air. Making it hard for air to circulate even though the windows and doors were wide open. This was a big place, and the same air has probably been trapped in here since yesterday.
“I could say the same for you,” Macaque chuckled back, failing to hide his grimace (not that he was even trying to hide it, “You? Hardware store?” A weak response, he has to admit, but his conversation skills (no matter how weak those skills are to begin with) would come back when he gets rid of the shock still coursing through his body. Besides, what was a guy like them doing here anyways?
“Ah, I have been meaning to replace some of the floorboards in my living room, you see? Some of them are stained with blood marrow, it is all soaked up! Covering it with a rug is no longer able to suffice for me. Replacing the dirty boards would be better than keeping them.” While glossing over the fact that the Mayor has just so casually admitted that he has bloodied floor boards (he didn’t notice on the one time he went to their apartment, and he's kind of glad he didn’t), he simply replied sarcastically,
“Good luck with that. Make sure you get the right nails.” The way he said it quickly implied the end to the conversation. It sounded like a resounding statement. And so the Mayor, annoyingly, quickly came up with something to change the subject.
“So what have you been occupying yourself with recently? I do hope you are doing things that are worthwhile?”
Awfully enough, the Mayor was trying to make ‘casual’ conversation. Not in the mood to back down nor attempt to end this. Small talk, really. The kind of talk he absolutely loathed. Especially when it was about him.
“And what would classify as worthwhile?” Macaque asked boredly, letting out a huff and leaning against his trolley a little.
“Well, I would say picking up a new hobby would be a good one!” they replied with a wide grin. “But you could also say you’ve figured out some sort of goal for yourself? Something to keep you occupied.”
To be honest, Macaque hasn't really been doing much of anything that isn't fixing up the theatre. It's only been two days at most since he started. Most of his time is wasted by him just sitting there, contemplating the right plan of action to fix whatever he needed to fix that day. The most he’s done is buy new paint for the pillars yesterday, but he has yet to find material to replace the pillars themselves. He literally can't find anything for it. And so he’s had no energy, let alone time, to do anything for himself. No new hobbies, no goals, no plan for the ‘next few years’. Just nothing but manual labour (and... lots of compilation over his life choices?).
“Eh, I’ve just been busy. Mundane things, y’know how it is…” Knowing that only saying this wouldn’t work in getting the Mayor to give up on that particular subject, he tried to change the conversation with his body language, rather than words. Not so sneakily, he took a peek into the Mayor’s store basket. Seeing that no, there were no floor boards inside, and only a singular hammer and some fancy measuring tape. Quickly however, a few packets of nails were added as the Mayor just seemed to choose one of the sharpest looking ones from the shelves.
Having noticed his glance, the suited man explained, “I ordered some planks from the front desk! To be delivered to my front door in two working days. Quite convenient!” Well, that explains the lack of actual wooden boards and the simple hand held basket.
“Yeah, sure.” Macaque himself had a trolley, a nice big one, and he already had plenty of the materials he needed for renovating and fixing the theatre room. Planks, paint (tremendous amounts of paint and wood stainer, it practically filled half of the large trolley), extra chisels and a new electric saw (he’d broken the ones he had been using before, and the old saw than been a regular old manual one), and other minor things, like light bulbs for the ceiling lights. All of it was stuff he didn't quite need yet, but acquired on his mission to find something for the pillars.
“You look like you are building a whole new house,” the Mayor mused, taking their own nosy peak at his trolley.
“Haha, no,” Macaque replied flatly as he began to push the trolley. It rattled and shook from its one loose wheel which tried to deviate from the path he was pushing in. He already had a flat and it served him just fine.
“So what are you doing then?” As soon as he’d moved, the Mayor followed. Keeping up with him as their footsteps perfectly aligned with his own. Walking at the same speed, right next to him. “New project? Hobby? Are you ‘D.I’Y’ing something yourself, dear?”
Quickly, in his effort to come up with a lie on the spot, he blurted out,
“Theatre.”
This, as it turns out, was not a lie. While trying to figure out why in his attempt to lie he’d ended up saying something related to the truth, the Mayor simply lit up in excitement..
“Oh?” The Mayor asked, leaning towards him a little. The smile on their face is getting a little bit bigger. “Do you have your old job again? How delightful!” With his only choice to play along with this, Macaque smoothly replied (finally deviating his excuse from the shameful truth).
“Yeah. I’m just making props for my next show y’know? Gonna go big and bold this time cause it’s my re-debut.” He added a confident chuckle after that, all part of the facade and lie. And it seems to be quite convincing. Too convincing.
“Well you ought to tell me when it is! I might be able to see it! Perhaps I’ll be able to sit through it this time?” They hummed out in thought. It didn’t take Macaque long to remember how this guy used to just… hang around in the audience a lot before his shows. Weeks before the Mayor decided to finally kidnap him. Remembering this didn’t necessarily unsettle him, but he dreads the idea of the Mayor just doing that again. Hanging around, only to leave as soon as the play started. Every single time. What a creep.
“Nope, you’re not coming,” Macaque said, knowing he was killing the Mayor's enthusiasm.
“Oh, why not?”
“Tickets are sold out,” he says, despite that his tickets have never been sold out (blame this on everything except himself), “You won’t be able to get in.” A good excuse to come up with on the spot. But again, not good enough.
“Ah well, the people must love your work then. Good for you!” The Mayor said with a passive but light hearted sigh. “Still, I think I should still visit before or after! Your shows should still be in their usual times, yes? No changes there I presume?”
“Ah I dunno, it seems to be that way but it might change,” He added a shrug with that, continuing to push his trolley. He wasn’t exactly pushing it anywhere, really. He wasn’t planning to pay for this stuff (because this was expensive, too expensive for his unemployed pocket), so in the back of his mind he was quickly trying to figure out what else he needed to get before leaving.
“I suppose that cannot be helped.”
“It is what it is,” he shrugged again and drawled out with a flat grin, “Y’know maybe if I like you better later, I’ll give you a ticket myself.”
“That would be appreciated, whenever that might be,” they said, raising an eyebrow at his slightly offensive statement but, still, they took the lighter tone of his words and knew to interpret it as a joke.
Finally, he pushed the trolley so far to a point where Macaque finally found himself near the cashier counters. And, not wanting a repeat of a certain grocery store incident, he decided to stop the trolley and turn to the other.
“You can go now.”
“Aw, dear, and who said you could tell me what to do?” as they chuckled a little, Macaque simply returned it with a dry grin and said,
“ I did. Now scram. I don’t need you breathing down my neck.”
“But there is nothing for you to hide, is there?” They mused, their own grin growing widder, “Unless, you plan to portal away those goods when I am not looking? Like the delinquent you are-”
“I could do that anytime.” To prove his point, he silently opened a shadow portal under the trolley, and down the goods went. Into the darkness before the portal shut behind it. And it didn’t matter if the cashier workers saw that happened, because he doubts they are hardly paid enough to care.
“Ah well, I suppose you know what they say,” the Mayor replied with a dramatic sigh, “one should never tattle tale on a person who is struggling and steals what they must-”
“I’m not broke,” Macaque grumbled, feeling his eyes twitch a little. Of course there is nothing shameful about being broke, but he’s just a little sick and tired of people expecting the bare minimum (or anything below that) of him.
“Well why else are you gathering materials? To build a house? Or perhaps just a little shed-”
“I’m not homeless,” He spat, narrowing his eyes and poking his finger against the other, “You-”
“Oh yes, I know where you live.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“ I know where you live. ”
As if sensing that Macaque was on the verge of ripping their face out, or, simply looking as though he would, the Mayor took a single, small step back and leaned away a little.
“Coward,” Macaque noted. And before the Mayor could even retort, he added, “And haha but I know where you live too-” not the exact address. He can’t remember that, but he remembers the Mayor's living room far too vividly that he could portal there with ease, “-and I can barge into your place anytime I want.”
“Duly noted. And so can I.”
“Piss off.”
“Very smart retort, dear. But fine, I will leave if that is what you wish.”
With a last flashy grin, and even an audacious wink, the Mayor left and practically waltzed away. Almost with a skip in their step as they pretended to be a law-abiding citizen and went up to a cashier counter, greeting the one behind the guest with far too much enthusiasm, and started to pay for their items.
Pretentious prick, Macaque thought to himself. It's a shame on his pride that he wouldn’t have actually done anything more to shoo the Mayor away if they hadn’t left after that.
Despite that, he lingered for just a moment longer. Simply watching as the Mayor pretended that the conversation had not happened in the first place. But, before the Mayor could look back at him, the shadow demon zipped through a portal below. Deciding that he’d prefer getting back to work than being under the other’s gaze.
~~~
Paint in a can was probably another great invention of humanity. Not the paint in tins, that was different. He meant spray cans.
It was colour, in a small container, and all you had to do was press the mechanism at the top and all of the colour came spraying out. The smell was weird, but it was easy for him to get used to (like the smell of vivid pens. Weird at first, but now every time he uses them he can’t help but give it a whiff. Is this what having an acquired taste means?). At least the cans were easy to use for getting into those cracks on the walls he couldn’t bother to replace. Filling them up with paint, and hoping it would be enough to hide the imperfections.
So he’s stepped away from working on the theatre room. Instead, he’s decided to take his hand at working on the exterior of the theatre. He doesn’t actually have to fix the exterior, really, but he needs to do it if he wants to get on decent terms with the theatre again. Fix the Lady Bone Demon’s mess, and he’ll gain enough brownie points to make another contract with the manager again. Great.
Macaque has already replaced the walls that had been broken by the ice. The whole entire stretch of it. It was so ruined (if he had to guess, about 70 percent of it was literally gone, and all of these stray bricks that came from the wall were all over the place) that he had to knock it down and build it back up. Brick by brick. Using that crumbly cement paste to stick it all. The bricks that were used to make this wall helped however. Each brick had holes at the bottom, and the bumps on the top of them too. So all the bricks could be perfectly stacked on top of each other and neatly fitted, locked in place. However, as secure as the bricks already were like this, the theatre manager insisted that he had to use mortar to make sure the bricks stayed in place.
No matter how many times he washed his hands after doing this, it never felt the same. That dry, sticky, texture of the mortar, still stuck to his hands no matter how clean he’d actually been during that brick sticking process. That aside, he had to paint the wall, despite his own personal opinion that the brick wall was completely fine without the coat of paint. But paint was needed, and so he shall paint.
The cans of paint told him that he should be wearing a mask of some sorts when using them but he really couldn’t care less. Toxins be damned, it's his future’s problem. It's not even getting in his face anyways. Filling in these gaps in the wall was easy and he just kept his arms outstretched in front of him. All of that paint, getting on everywhere except for him (or, well, he supposes the edge of his sleeve is a little stained. And his fingers). He had the roller of paint beside him, so when the paint finally dries on the other parts of the wall he’ll put on the next coat. Which might take a while, because the alleyway that the wall made up didn’t have much sunlight. Good for Macaque, who was covered head to toe in clothes he couldn’t care less to get dirty (black hoodie, ripped blue jeans, a grey sleeveless puffer jacket because it was a little cold today, and a brown cap be chucked on because he felt like more needed to be done to hide his face. Because he felt shameful, standing here, fixing a wall), bad for the paint, because it's been ages and it seems like it's never going to dry, and he really wants to get the painting done today-
“HEY SIR! Uh sorry to bother you-” A sudden voice called out, breaking Macaque out of his thoughts. His fingers froze and the paint kept spraying out of the can. Building up on the wall, and causing the excess paint to start dripping down. “-but do you know where the- uh-” Macaque cautiously side eyed the intruder. His posture froze in a sort of hunch, and from where the stranger was standing, they surely would not see his face because of his hood.
It was MK. And he should have known from the voice but Macaque really just didn’t want to believe it. Mei was there too, at the entrance of the alleyway, quickly catching up to the kid and checking her phone. MK himself was holding a piece of paper, a note more like it. And he was inspecting it really frantically, over enthusiastically- he seemed like he was just a little too confused for comfort.
At least he didn’t seem to recognise the shadow demon. He seemed too naive at this moment.
In an effort to save his dignity, Macaque’s tail hastily tried to hide itself before the kid could notice it. Surely, surely the kid would never have to find out what Macaque was doing. Macaque body was facing the kid sideways, so as long as he didn't turn to face the other, he should be fine-
“Gee, Red Son is so vague with these instructions,” MK huffed out, not even looking at him. “He was talking too fast on the phone and I could barely write down what he said!”
“Well I mean we’re at the theatre so we can’t be too far off right?” Mei offered. Her main attention was still on her phone but her eyes were occasionally glancing around.
“I mean, kinda???” MK turned to her, and then he turned back to Macaque. “You have any idea where the underground markets are???” He then laughed and scratched his back awkwardly, “Its so weird- I’ve lived here my whole life and I thought I knew every corner of this city-” and then he paused, his face freezing a little before he added even more awkwardly and sistantly, “I mean, I think I’ve lived here all my life…?”
“PWEESE sir! It would be really nice if you could offer directions!” Mei interjected, clearly being playful and not genuinely begging in the slightest. But Macaque still didn’t properly turn to face them, but knew it was too late to put on a proper magical disguise.
Now, of course he knew where the underground markets were. If, MK and Mei were actually talking about the Black Market. A bit on the nose but it's in one of the darkest places in the city: Underground. Obviously. While he could be intrigued on why in the world Red Son would want those two to go down there, he’s not going to offer any directions. Knowing that, sending them on their way with a solid ‘no’ would get them to leave quicker-
“Hey, is, is that a tail? ” Mei suddenly mumbled to MK. Illegible to the average ear but the shadow demon could hear it loud and clear.
Fuck.
Internally, he curses his tail which had broken out of its hiding spot in its paranoia and nervousness. The way it flickered and twitched simply made it too obvious. Cats out of the bag. Either he commits to playing his part or he comes clean.
With an awkward cough, he chooses to commit.
“That way,” he simply says, masking his voice pretty well and making it sound like a gruffly man. Pointing over to the vague direction of north, and still not turning to look at the kids. Finally though, he stopped straying the can, realising that he must have wasted at least a quarter of the bottle in his frozen state.
“Oh, thank you so much!!! Have a good day!”
And then the kids were on their merry way. Speeding off, out of the alleyway, leaving a puff of dust behind them.
But only a few moments later was when Macaque finally decided to turn around. Glancing over to the open alley, and letting out a relieved sigh when nobody was found.
Good that they kept up the act. He’s absolutely fine, no need to panic anymo-
“WAIT HOLD UP, COULD YOU GIVE US MORE DETAILS-” The Monkie Kid suddenly poked his head into the alleyway again, and this time Macaque didn't have enough time to turn away. His widened and frozen expression, quickly being matched by the Monkie Kid.
“MACAQUE?!?!?!?!” Mei screamed, who had popped up soon after MK. The sheer loudness of it almost made him flinch but he held himself back, simply letting his ears twitch inside his hood.
“What are YOU doing here?!” MK finally added. And then he paused, his mind suddenly plugged into deep thought before saying, “Oh YEAH, This is the theatre where you- uh-” And then his face melted a little, dying off into cautiousness.
“You’re right! This is where he kidnapped us and shoved us into that lantern! So not cool!” the dragon girl exclaimed. He pointed accusingly at him, “You better not be doing anything suspicious this time-!” And then, she was interrupted by MK dramatically gasping.
“ARE YOU VANDALISING THE BUILDING???” His eyes darted between the spray cans of paint and Macaque. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth-
Well, shit.
Instead of panicking, which would only worsen his mental state (which at this point, was already ruined beyond repair), he simply tossed the spray paint can in his hand carelessly away. Letting it tumble to the ground. His own face dropped with it, giving the kids a deadpan look as he used his tail to grab another spray can on the ground. He didn’t check the colour of it before spraying it on the building.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He chuckled out, trying to hide the strain. He turned back to look at the paint he was spraying on the wall and realised it was a bright red. Ruining the painwork he had been doing but he couldn’t care less. He would rather be seen vandalising rather than fixing a wall. That's what his priorities are. So Macaque decided to paint a crude smiley face with jagged teeth on the still drying wall. Letting the red messily blend in with the white grey and drip all over the place.
“So you ARE up to no good! That's bad!” MK exclaimed bluntly.
“Yeah, no shit,” he replied blandly. “Now don't you two have places to be?” He admires the face he drew on the wall, with how round that overall circle was, he was almost proud.
“Did you try to redirect us so we wouldn’t see your crimes?!” Mei added accusingly. Macaque offered nothing more than raising his eyebrow at the kid, a passive aggressive grin on his face.
“Yeah,” he scoffed, “now shoo. I have a whole canvas to paint that I got for free.”
“You’re VANDALISING!”
“So? One of the greatest artists of all time does graffiti, doesn't he?” What was it, Banksy? The pseudonymous dude graffitied on stuff all the time and called it art. So why can’t Macaque do the same? But really, he isn’t trying to do art. He’s just, trying to cover up the fact that he’s paying off debt and doing a good thing by, making it seem like he’s doing something bad-
As ironic and as weird as it is, he really doesn’t want to be seen as a good guy. It unsettles him. Doing something bad seems so much easier than doing something good, and being perceived as bad is much less complicated compared to being perceived as good. Being good meant there was a standard to uphold and being bad meant that you were more free with the lack of said standards-
Ah. Maybe this is why people expect nothing more than the bare minimum from him.
Now stemming away from such a revelation, maybe he should just stick to doing what he wants. But this apparently, what he wants, is to vandalise this building in hopes that MK would never have to find out that Macaque is fixing up the theatre that he had lured MK and his friends into. Because god forbid, MK and Mei laugh at him for doing such a thing. Or even worse, try to help.
He doesn't need help. Not from these two at least, and not for something like this. Even though a good counter argument would be the fact that MK had actually helped cause this mess regardless.
“You do art?” MK suddenly pointed out. “I didn’t know that!”
Well… he’s not exactly an artist but… he did dabble in drawing, once upon a time. One of his great skills if he does say so himself, but it’s been a while.
He didn’t reply verbally. Instead, he simply decided to start spray painting a very ‘reflective and realistic’ depiction of the kid on the wall. Whether or not it was to flatter the kid, or to pin the blame of the mess on him, it was up for the kid to interpret.
“Kinda,” he finally said, about halfway through his drawing. It was difficult using a medium he’s never really used before but he thinks it's turning out okay.
“That doesn’t excuse your crimes, Mr!” Mei said, emphasising the ‘Mr’ in a way which meant anything other than respect.
“The underground markets are north from here,” he replied flatly, “Walk a couple blocks from here and you’ll be right on top of it.” Sneakily, he took a glance at the note that MK was holding. A little scrunched up but the words were still… vaguely legible. “But I don't see why Red Son would want you guys down there…?” What did the fire demon want these two down there for? To shut down all of the illegal business going on? He hopes not. Princess Iron Fan would be pissed, she quite likes that market. So what has this all got to do with her son?
“Oh! Red Son lost a few things because it was stolen by the-uh,” he checked the note, “gold and silver demons??? And it's being sold in the markets and Red Son was banned after he tried to roast those guys alive in their stall so he asked me and Mei to get it back for him!!!”
“He was so vague about it,” Mei said with a huff, “he was all like ‘you’ll know it when you see it’. Like come on! Just tell us what you lost!”
That's a solid explanation alright, but, he can’t help but find it funny (he’d be laughing hysterically if his acting skills were any less) how Red Son was going to such lengths to retrieve his belongings. Or, how he even let the stuff get stolen in the first place. It probably wasn’t even anything important but the fire demon’s stubborn nature was too prideful to let something like this slip and go ignored. But going as far as to ask for help? From MK and Mei? Either he really liked and trusted them or he had run out of people to ask.
And as tempted as Macaque is to follow these two to the markets, or even lead them there, he has a job to do.
Or… maybe not?
He's a little too involved now. A little too interested. Surely, it would not hurt to take a little detour today?
He’ll be back before the manager even realises he’s gone.
“Y’know, I doubt you guys would be able to find the entrance on your own though,” he said with a playful tut, finishing up the drawing he was making of MK. Whose head finally began to click that the drawing was of him, but barely, barely realising. “You’ll need someone who's been there themselves. Why didn’t Red Son go with you two and guide you there? Being banned from the market itself doesn't stop him from showing the way.”
“He said he was busy, y’know, strengthening the security his family’s toight crib,” MK explained with elaborate hand gestures. ‘Toight crib’ what Macaque can only assume is the Demon Bull Family’s fortress. Which makes sense, because, how could some lousy burglars break into that place and get away from it? The security in that place must have degraded somehow over the years.
“Reaaaal paranoid about how his stuff got stolen.” Mei said in a hiss, even though the fire demon in question was nowhere near to be offended by the comment. “A bit antsy on the phone.”
“COULD YOU TAKE US THERE THEN???” MK exclaimed excitedly. “I mean, you know how to get there right? Could you take us?!”
“Not cautious I’ll lead you astray?” He asked with a chuckle. “Lure you to a place where I can finally get rid of the two of you?”
“Well no, duh! Cause you never blurt out your plans like that!” Fair enough, but the kid knew what reverse psychology was, right?
Macaque finished the drawing of MK, and admired his work once again.
Hell yeah, I’ve still got it, he thought to himself. Truly, a good piece of art. At least, his first drawing since ages ago.
“Woaaaaah you’re so good!!!” MK said, “is that me???” He seemed to be flattered by the drawing, rather than the exaggerated messiness of the depiction of him.
“Who else?” He then tossed the spray can in his hand away and patted down his hands. Trying to get rid of the crusty feeling from the bricks from before but ultimately failing. “Now come on, we should be there when it gets dark.”
“Shouldn’t it be before it gets dark?” Mei asked.
“Oh no, trust me, the place is much better when the sun is gone,” Macaque said with a grin. It didn’t make much of a difference though, because the place was underground and ran 24/7. But it was a fun thing to say.
His tail picked itself off the floor as he began walking away. Adjusting his cap to hide his face a little more as he strolled out, knowing that the two kid were quickly tailing him. Eager to get where they needed to be.
“Can you not use your shadow portally things to get us there?” MK asked. “Y’know, just saying.”
“There's specific enchantments in that place,” He explained dully, having just been reminded of these enchantments himself. “Nothing can go in and nothing can go out unless you go right into the main door.”
“Huh?! Really?” Mei asked.
“How else would they stop thieves from coming and leaving the place?” Somehow, the shadow realm was an outlier here. While in the markets he could take stuff out and put anything he wanted in there, despite the shadow realm being a place itself. But he doesn't dare question this out loud, lest the one who runs the markets find out about the loophole.
He then slowed down a little, thinking, trying to put the image of the market clear in his head, and the entrance around it. “Buuuuuuuuut, I guess I could get us to the entrance right now, if that would be easier.” And with a snap, he opened a portal using the kid’s own shadows. Catching the two off guard, and sending them plummeting down. As the two began to scream, he shut the portal behind them.
For a moment, just a moment, he enjoyed the silence of the streets. It was not busy in this part of town, and he could hear the distant traffic in the more busier areas of the city. Then, with a final huff, he portalled down to meet the kids.
~~~
He’s only been here a handful of times. Always with Princess Iron Fan. Never would he bother to come to this place alone. There was nothing worthwhile here apart from the good ol’ food stall (the type where it would pop up just the one time, and you would never find it ever again) or a strangely sketchy magical artefacts store, but with genuine products somehow. Wen’s Warehouse was a much better place to buy things, so the only reason to come here would be when Princess Iron Fan wanted to make more connections while also thinking that Macaque needed to make connections too. Because she was just ‘so generous’ like that. Dragging him out of his apartment just to talk to people. And it seems like Red Son had to go through that too if he’s been here before and supposedly knew the way here.
When he stepped out of the portal, he was quickly greeted with MK on the ground, having made a crater when he fell, and seemingly stuck in a sprawled out pose in his unconsciousness. Mei was already by his side, dramatically sobbing all over him, talking on and on about how she would remember him and talking about how she would make sure Pigsy would never replace him at the noodle store. Ugh.
“Get up kiddo,” he said, not bothering to hold back as he aggressively nudged the kid’s side. In response, he got a loud groan, followed by the kid crawling back up. So much for the great Monkie Kid. Or maybe he really did just portal these two a little too high into the air.
“Where are we?” MK groaned out.
“Looks like an old subway network!” Mei pointed out, staring at the train tracks below the three. “Hey, you’re not just gonna let us get hit by a train are you?” She asked Macaque.
“Pft, no. There are better ways to hurt you two.” Hurt, and not kill. Because he severely doubts that compared to everything these kids have gone through? The most a train track could do is break a bone or two.
“Look, there's lights!” MK pointed out.
“Haha, MK, of course there is always light at the end of the tunnel- HOLY CRAP, THERE’S LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL!!!” Mei enthusiastically pointed over to the distance. The one way street the tunnel had, and all of them could see that there were indeed, neon lights coming from that direction.
“Looks like the party started early! Come on,” Macaque said as he began walking over. “Better get there or Red Son’s stuff will get bought by someone else.”
Now, despite the underground market being the literal black market of the city, there were tight rules and regulations here. While it was not uncommon to see a dead human or two strung up to be barbecued or steamed, actually killing a human or a demon is a no go in there. It has to be done outside the market. It's like, you can break any law you want outside of the place, and bring whatever you got from breaking those laws and selling them, but, you can’t actually break any laws within the vicinity of the market itself- it's really, really weird.
In other words, the entire market was full of hypocrites. Such as himself, he guesses, but this was, again, just really really weird.
“Ever eaten human before?” Macaque asked the two beside him. A question said just to toy with the two, but to also warn them of what they were going to see.
“What?! No?!” Both of the kids said it at the same time, equally mortified and off put.
“Well I mean, it wouldn’t really be cannibalism,” He said, even though the subject of such a thing was never really mentioned, “I mean hey, Mei, you’re of dragon descent-” he isn’t exactly sure how much of Mei is dragon but, that's not the point “-and MK is, MK. ” While he still wasn’t sure what MK is, or what he was supposed to be, he sure as hell wasn’t human either. “So its not cannibalism if you want to try-”
“That doesn’t make it any better?!”
“You two should wear a disguise, actually,” he suddenly pointed out, realising a dilemma he’d completely forgotten. He doubts the people in the market would let the Monkie Kid and the Dragon Girl in. For a hotspot of criminals and outlaws, bringing in ‘the good guys’ would bring more trouble than justice in this place.
“Here,” he snapped his fingers and opened a portal. Rummaging through and pulling out random pieces of garments. These were all just things left over from what he didn’t clean out in his hoard. Coats, scarves, strange looking hats, and clothes that looked more like rags.
“OOOOO DISGUISE TIME!!!” Mei exclaimed. And the kids quickly brainstormed ideas and tried on the clothes. And before he knew it, the two of them had come up with the most ridiculous idea, which was to form a human tower and wear the largest coat that Macaque had chucked at him. A little cliché, if you ask him. The two person trench coat trick. Too cartoonish, and too… silly.
“You know that this isn’t a cartoon show, right?” Macaque said, staring at the two skeptically. Watching as the two hobbled and wobbled, with MK at the bottom and holding up Mei. But Mei certainly had the worst job as it was her who needed to remain stead on MK’s back.
“It’s the perfect disguise!” The Monkie Kid exclaimed from under the buttoned up coat. “Nobody will suspect a thing!” Yeah… sure, he thought plainly. There was no point in trying to convince the kids otherwise.
And so after much stumbling and false alarms from the determined duo, they and Macaque finally arrived at the market. The big gates, resembling the section between tunnel and train station, reveal the markets just beyond. It was all full of bright colours, warm tones of lanterns and lights. Natural lights too, with it all being lit with controlled flames. There was the pungent smell of the food stalls and the echoing sounds of footsteps. The loud chatter he had heard from a mile away but it was never so strong until now.
“Oh, it's you,” the gate master grumbled, staring at Macaque. It was an older demon, a rather grumpy fellow. The classic old man who's lost hope in the word and is simply waiting to die. Already living like he’s dead. Kind of sad but, Macaque is not the one who is capable of making him think otherwise.
“It’s me,” he chuckled back, “Got room for two more in there?”
“You caused a bit of trouble last time you were down here, and you don’t even have the princess to keep you inline.”
“Hey, I just wanted my money’s worth,” he hissed, pointing at the elder. “That fox scammed me.” A cheap thing he’d bought (because again, stealing was something that was impossible to get away with here, no matter how many times he tried in the past. Actually buying something was the only option) last time. A cooking pot. But after the handle snapped off only a few moments later despite his rigorous testing of it beforehand, he’d demanded his money back. Things had escalated from there.
“Besides, I’m not planning on buying anything today. I’m just showing this guy around, ain't that right?” After a harsh slap on the back, the wobbling figure beside him stumbled a bit before Mei coughed out a nervous greeting,
“Uh, yeah, right! Just looking around!” Her voice was deeper than normal in her attempt to impersonate a middle aged man. “ We’re- I mean, I’m new here.” While Macaque rolled his eyes, the elder demon glared at the towering figure. Staring, almost looking through the coat before finally saying.
“Fine. But we have our eyes on you.” And the gates finally opened. “One more strike and you’re banned from here.” Jeeze, and he wonders just how many times Red Son had fucked up before he actually got banned from this place. Because he's heard those words several times before this, and he still gets more chances.
Expectantly, when the trio finally walked into the market itself, Mei and MK were both amazed. It was a completely different place compared to the city above. While the streets and buildings under the sun relied on modern technology, down here, it was a little more traditional. Both in the architecture, how it was run, and the shit that went down on this place. Such as-
“IS THAT A HUMAN BODY?!?!?!” Mei early screeched, but it came out as a horrified gasp. Unfortunately this was more than rough for MK to start to panic. His legs stumble all over the place and cause Mei to wobble, exclaiming his own, “WHAAAA???”
Indeed, there was a dead body in a stall nearby. A few of them actually. All of them have had their facial features cut off and really, they were just hunks of meat. The only way you could even tell they used to be human were the ribs that were sticking out in some places and of course, the limp hands and arms that were still attached to the bodies that were impossible to be seen as anything but a human appendage.
“Do you guys want to eat it?” he asked, to which he got two panicked ‘NO’s. “Then stop ogling. Let's keep moving.” He’s a little bit glad that he actually came with these kids now. Because at least he was here to use his tail to drag the walking coat behind him with him and get it to unpause from its frozen place. Mei’s expression looked utterly horrified under the hat she wore, but it was far too much to process to have any sort of valid reaction.
“So what are we looking for?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“That's the thing, we dunno!?” MK said from under the coat. “Red Son was just all like, ‘you will know it when you see it-’ honestly he really should have just told us what it is.”
The funny thing is though, the three of them really did know it when they saw it.
It was definitely not in the food stalls, so the trio moved past those quite quickly. And the three of them had spent quite a bit in the antiques section. Trying, searching, and stumbling their way from stall to stall, trying to figure out what Red son needed to get back.
And then there it was. Right there. Not in the antiques section but, sort of in the ‘everything else section’ of the market’.
“RED SON’S BIKE THINGY?!?!?!?!” Mei exclaimed. Pointing over to something in the distance. “TELL ME I’M DREAMING!”
Macaque’s eyes immediately darted over to where Mei was painting at. A stall, more shady looking than the majority here. Run down and hastily put together, and some of the structure of it looked quite burned as well. It had caught on fire recently. Which was a dead give away that this was the stall the trio were after but, next to the stall were multiple things. Bigger things. Like, massive music speakers, large tables, some strange looking statues (probably stolen from art museums), trees in pots that look like they had been dug up from various parks around the city, and-
“Holy shit, he got his bike stolen,” Macaque breathed out, feeling a laugh coming on. It was actually a smaller vehicle that was an extension of a bigger one. Red Son’s truck, and this was the red three wheeled motorbike that could come out from it.
“Come on! Let's go get it back!” MK yelled, and he quickly raced over- he started running in the wrong direction. Mei quickly stopped him before he crashed into a pole. He got back on track though, running as fast as his legs could carry him and Mei over to the stall in question and take back the stolen bike.
However, before Macaque could bother to follow the two, he stared at the pole MK had nearly bumped into. Which, in fact, was not a pole at all.
It was a group and stack of large trunks of wood. Freshly cut, already stripped of bark. Seemingly being put up for sale by the stall next to it, which was filled with more wood. Either in the form of planks, ornaments, or keepsakes.
Bingo. He’s found the theatre room’s new pillars.
The moment he was close enough, he asked the vendor, “How much for four of those?” before pointing at the stacks of wood.
“13,999 yuan,” the vendor said nonchalantly. He was human passing, until you realised he was putting on a disguise. One that couldn’t quite hide his woodpecker features, like the red hair on his head and the oddly sharp nose he had.
“Excuse me?”
“You know hard wood is to come by? Much less at this size?” The vendor scoffed, “What are you even gonna use it for anyways?”
“None of your business,” Macaque scoffed back, and folded his arms. “8,000 yuan.”
“Too low. It cost me way more than that to even cut that stuff down.”
“When was the last time you had someone buy your wood, huh? I doubt anyone is interested in what you have to give.” And he was right. There was literally nobody near this stall, it was just him, and he doubted there had been many people before him. Who even needs to buy wood this size anyways? Much less useless wooden carved keepsakes, as cute as those little things were.
“Fair enough, I do need the money. How about 12,500? You’re already robbing me blind.
“9,500 yuan.” Over in the distance, he could hear Mk and Mei (or really, it was just Mei) haggling with the vendors who had Red Son’s bike. Their only argument being that the bike was stolen, and the only vendor's argument being, and he quotes directly as he hears it, ‘well we stole it fair and square! So if you want it, pay up!’
“Hah! You kidding me?” the Woodpecker demon let out a laugh, “Come on, how about this. 11,500 yen? I’m not going any lower than that. You either have your wood or you don’t. No other markets nearby will ever sell it at this size!”
And the vendor was right.
“10,000,” Macaque proclaimed, eying the other, “and I can’t afford to go any higher than that.” he really can’t, actually. He didn’t actually have that much in his pocket right now (just a measly 150 yuan) but he was willing to write up a bank check. Sure, it would put him in debt, but he’s already in debt so it can’t get any worse than this. Maybe if he is lucky, after he fixes up what he needs to fix, the theatre will pay for all the materials he had to use. It's only fair, right? He just needed to do the work. Nothing more than that.
“... deal,” the woodpecker demon finally huffed out. He seemed far from happy about this but, he really didn't have a choice. It was this or nothing.
However, while Macaque was writing out the bank check, he quickly heard a frantic,
“MACAAAAAAAQUE!!! WE GOTTA GO!!!”
Without even looking, he let out a loud groan and hastily finished the bank statement.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said in a snarky tone, sliding the bank statement over before quickly summoning some clones to pick up the four trunks of wood he was owed.
“MACAQ-”
He turned around to see MK and Mei whizzing past on Red Son’s motorbike. All three wheels off the ground as it soared by. The trench coat simply flew off and landed straight on Macaque’s face. He barely spluttered as he ripped it away, and he let out another groan. These damn kids… But the bike was already causing so much havoc that his own thoughts were inaudible. The wheel crashed down onto a vendor’s products nearby and forced the people on the pathways to scatter. The old abandoned subway station, turning to chaos.
After he watched the gold and silver demons (he thinks he must have seen them from somewhere before…) race after the Monkie Kid and Dragon Horse Girl, Macaque begrudgingly went after them. Without his portal magic, he simply had to catch up on foot.
That is, until he remembered he still had his own motorcycle, which desperately needed to be used after so long.
With the path already cleared for him, he pulled his bike from the shadow realm and raced after the two. Following the destruction it had left in its wake, and while it was tempting to try to run over the gold and silver demons he soon caught up to, he decided against it because the blood on his tires would be too difficult to clean.
Through the marketplace he went, almost following his past footsteps, he finally spotted MK and Mei, panicking as Red Son’s bike’s handling settings were apparently too horrible for either of them to control.
“Macaque!” MK cried out, “You’re here!”
“You have a bike!?” Mei exclaimed, gasping at his vehicle. “That's so cool!”
“Save it for later,” He grumbled back. “Just follow me. Keep up. ”
Through the mess of the market, he eventually navigated his way to the gates of the marketplace. And he didn’t bother to say goodbye to the gatemaster as he simply drove through it. Knowing that the Dragon Girl and Monkie Kid were right behind him at the moment they were all out, he portaled the three of them away into the darkness.
When the three emerged, they were all back in the alleyway beside the theatre. The kids both tumbled out with Red Son’s bike sliding and scratching against the pavement. All while he and his own bike landed smoothly with the brakes putting it to an abrupt but carefully thought out stop.
“Oughhhh… what even happened back there?” Mei groaned as she lifted herself off the floor. By now, it was well past sunrise. It was dark out, save for the neon lights of the city around them. The stars in the sky could hardly be seen as a result but the moon was as bright as it always is.
“Beats me… but hey! We got Red Son’s motorbike back!!!” MK cheered, and was quickly joined by Mei who celebrated their job ‘well done’.
“Alright, bugger off you two.” Macaque said, as he got off his bike. “Never approach me in an alleyway again.”
“WHAAAT? But then how else would we have stopped you from vandalising this building?!”
“I wasn’t-” he stopped himself before he could give himself away. And he let out a huff. “Yeah yeah, you guys are real heroes aren’t you? I’m too tuckered out to put any more spray paint now.”
“Hooray!!!” As an expression of their enthusiasm, MK and Mei high fived each other. Doing it all, the ‘up high’, the ‘down low’, and apparently the ‘never too slow’ too (he’s certain it's actually just ‘too slow’ but maybe Mk and Mei changed it between themselves for their own fun).
“Okay thank you so much for helping Macaque!!! BYEEE!!!”
“We are SO GONNA have a race on our bikes later!!!” Mei added with a great big grin.
And then they were gone. As quick as that (of course as they were leaving they had said more farewells and promises to hang out again but, well, they were gone within moments nonetheless) and Macaque was left alone in the dark.
And then he face palms himself. Because it is in that moment he realises that in his attempt to pretend he is not doing a ‘good’ thing, he ends up helping the boy and the girl anyways. Doing good, regardless of his efforts.
Damnit.
~~~
In the afternoon of the next day, he had thought he must have received something equivalent to the death threat. Not that he was threatened with anything nearly as close to being horrible as dying, but it felt like it.
The manger had been there to greet him when he arrived back in the alleyway to do the painting again when the sun had long since passed halfway through the sky. He'd forgotten that he was supposed to come earlier. Because, last night, after deeming that he’d done enough energy taxing work for the day (managing those kids in the market was tough work) he’d told himself that he would fix up the graffiti mess before the manager could even think to check on his progress in the morning (because he had made it very clear to her that he would be working in the afternoons and night time, and never the morning). So his logic had been that, if he were to wake up just a little earlier than he usually did, and re-did the paint on the wall, then the manager would never know.
Turns out, she does know. Because he accidentally slept in today.
He doesn’t want to recount the interaction but she had seen right through him when he had said, ‘oh gee, I dunno what happened. Looks like pretty good art though. But I left the wall last night and it was basically perfect! I dunno who did that graffiti.’
And then she had hit him with the, “It was here yesterday. I’d gone to see you to check your progress at sundown. Only to see that you were not here, and there was this on the wall.”
Before he could even reply, she added in a rather threatening voice, “I don't care how it got here, I don’t care if you did it or not. You are going to fix it. ”
And so he did fix it. Really quickly, actually. Not because he’s ‘afraid’ but, like, the sheer amount of shame you feel when you are being scolded is unbelievable. More shameful than what he expected to feel when MK was about to find out the position he was in.
But that was over and done with, and he was back in the theatre room he needed to fix. Painting the pieces of large wood he brought from the underground market. Even though it had been one of the first things he told himself to fix, he ended up dabbling in the other aspects of the theatre to give himself a break and, well, it's ending up that the pillars are one of the last things waiting to be fixed. That and the audience bench, which would be a piece of cake to fix compared to everything else.
Especially since he’s got his clones on the job now too. It's… difficult, trying to get them to do what they are supposed to do (even with the most simple chores, like, sweeping the floor can malfunction their brain. Making the brawl and fight isn’t as difficult because they rely on instincts which more often than not works for the clones. Here? No, Macaque has to literally tell them what to do subconsciously, and it's taxing), and he can only have so many out at a time but, they are certainly making things a little quicker. Not so much easier however.
So when he heard that someone was approaching the room he was in, he didn’t care. He was making progress, and that was all that mattered. It was probably just the manager coming in again to pester him. At this point, he thinks she actually finds it fun.
The door opened, and immediately, he felt a wave of chill flood through his system.
A pause. A moment of silence. All of the clones stopped working, and so did he.
“You know,” a familiar voice began after the moment, “when you said that you were working in the theatre again… I never would have expected this. ”
… fuck me, was the resounding voice in his head. His thoughts, coming to a single conclusion and agreement for once. The voice of dismay, and shame- utter complete shame, as the last person he ever wanted to stumble upon him in this room actually came.
“Oh fuck off,” was what ended up being said. Not wanting to look at the other, he simply kept painting the new pillar in front of him. One out of the four. He rolled his eyes as he heard a restrained laugh. Clearly, the Mayor was holding themselves back from a full on cackle.
“But I suppose one could say you are still ‘performing’. This is quite the comedy show!”
“Don’t patronise me,” he almost growled back. The grip on his flat and thick paintbrush grew tighter as he simply began to accept his fate. To be ridiculed, teased, laughed at. This was the true punishment of destroying this room.
“When I asked the receptionist when the next show was-” footsteps began to approach Macaque and walk down the stars. Cautious footsteps, clearly trying to avoid all of the ruined areas and the clones who were slowly going
back to work. “-she laughed at me and simply told me to come here. I suppose now I know why. This place is a mess!”
“Oh you have no idea how messy this place was a few days ago, jerk.” He’s worked hard to put this place back together. This place is NOT a mess. But out of his own shame he got back to work on painting the pillar again. Moving the brush quicker than he had previously, as if it would speed up the process.
“Well I suppose I should give you some credit. You seem quite diligent in your efforts!”
Finally, The Mayor stepped in front of him and he could already see those clean and shiny dress shoes the other was wearing and the bottom of his suit pants. And unwillingly, and only driven by his frustration for the other, he looked up to see their shit eating grin, pearing right back down at him.
“Hey, you actually helped make some of this mess,” the shadow demon countered, glaring at them from where he sat on the ground.
“Pardon?” They tilted their head, naively, if not for the fact that that grin was still there. Menacing to any regular individual. But Macaque only felt the need to rip it off the other's face.
“You LITERALLY made me hit that crater in the benches over there,” He pointed over to it without looking- he knows where it is off by heart. Right there in the lower middle, slightly to the left. The planks that made the first two layers of seats caved in. “And you kicked me into that wall-” he pointed over to the wall to the side of the room.
“When you were hit into the audience seats, you also made me hit that screen. Our powers bounced off each other,” the Mayor pointed at the back of the theatre, right where the tattered screen was. “And I do believe it was you who triggered such an explosion.” While they did in fact mention nothing about the crater in the theatre's sidewall (which was practically a guilty confession), Macaque still wasn’t having it.
“It doesn’t matter.” Then, with the little shame he now had, and the growing audacity brewing in his system, he ordered, “Grab a hammer.”
The Mayor blinked. Once, twice, and then a couple more times.
“What?”
“Grab a fucking hammer and fix the audience benches.”
The ex-thrall laughed and shook their head. “Dear, no, this is your job not mine-”
“Grab the fucking hammer.”
When he saw no move from the other to do such a thing. Macaque used his tail to grab the nail hammer near him and practically threw it at the Mayor. The guy caught it effortlessly and without flinching. Their hand grabbed the hammer just before it hit their face.
Then, after a moment of awkward silence, the Mayor got to work.
The silence that came after was not awkward in the slightest, because it was not completely silent. The sounds of shadow clones filled most of it with their footsteps and the occasional chirp. Heavy lifting planks and the clinkering of nails. Hammers hitting the wood and the sounds of a saw being used. Macaque himself was relatively silent because he was certain the only one who could hear the brush painting the wooden pillar was himself. The Mayor? Well, after using their telepathic magic to bring some planks of wood over, they started fixing the crater. They took off their suit jacket (probably because it was too restrictive for manual labour), rolled up their sleeve- no, they folded their sleeve-
Macaque let out the faintest scoff, which was pretty much just a strong exhale with an amused undertone. The Mayor caught it and glanced at him as they sat down next to the crater. A mere lift of their eyebrow gave the shadow demon enough reason to explain himself.
“You fold your sleeves,” he noted before turning away, resuming his painting job. “You don’t roll them.”
“Rolling would cause more creases,” the Mayor explained quite flatly. “I have the time to fold and so I shall.”
“Next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you iron your clothes.”
“And you do not?”
Macaque glanced up only to scoff at the others while looking them in the eye.
“Never needed to, why start now?”
“You should be more considerate of your appearance.”
“Not like that's ever going to help.”
“If you kept up your appearance more then perhaps people would think more highly of you.”
“Oh shut up-”
“Is this where all of that lumber went? The ones that you bought from the hardware store?” The Mayor suddenly said, picking up some of the planks beside them. Their eyes, focusing and taking in every grain and every mark on the wood. Macaque has already brushed them with wood stain to match the rest of the audience seats but they're going to have to get a little more dirty and used before they really blend in with the rest of this place. He knew no matter what he did the new and refurbished areas would stand out like a sore spot.
“Yup,” Macaque bitterly muttered, emphasising the ‘p’.
“So all this time you really have been working on this?”
“Started on Monday.”
“You mean you started today? Or, last Monday? Because today is also Monday.”
He didn’t reply, and that answered the Mayor’s question well enough.
“I would have thought with your clones, the process would have gone a lot faster.” They scanned the room and pinpointed where all of the shadow clones were. The majority of them were doing everything perfectly to a tee but, a few, or occasionally, some would slip up and do something really dumb.
As if to prove this, one of the shadow clones slipped on the stairs as they were carrying some planks, and came tumbling down in a horrific fashion. Landing and rolling on the ground, until coming to a stop at the edge of the stage where its head bashed against the elevated platform.
“All they’ve been is a nuisance really,” Macaque replied. He paid no mind to the fallen clone. Letting it get back on its own, shake off the hypothetical and pretend pain it was in, and let it go about the job it was supposed to do.
“Your clones are quite… mindless.”
“Like you.”
“I am no clone.”
“I puppeteer my clones. Who's to say you’re not just a figurative clone of ‘your Lady’, hm?”
“That is more of a compliment than you think it is. But no, I am too imperfect for my perfect Lady. If I were a clone something must have gone wrong in my genetics and I am the most horrific defect there is.” Of course, both of them knew by now that the Mayor was in fact, not a clone at all, and that they were somewhat of an individual before LBD but, well, it was still a funny hypothetical. Unfortunately Macaque was just a little too caught up on the Mayor’s word choice.
“ Perfect my ass,” He grumbled under his breath.
“I heard that.”
“Good. If you don't then there’s something wrong with you.”
“May I ask what caused you to cause this destruction?”
This was actually really funny. Because clearly, the Mayor was not having it with where these little small talks were going. Always starting with a seemingly innocent question, and with Macaque ending it for them with something either close, or straight up an insult directed at them. He almost wanted to laugh at the poor guy but, he supposes he might indulge a bit more. Not that, he particularly likes this specific question. But his thoughts are having enough fun laughing about the strain in the Mayor’s previous words that he doesn't think too much about his response.
He replied, “You don’t know?” The more he dwells on his own answer, the more he realises that at this point, he just assumes that the Mayor knows pretty much everything about him. Just like how Macaque feels like it's safe to assume that he knows almost everything about the other guy. Because, when you really think about it, there was not much to know about the Mayor. Once you know the whole Lady Bone Demon loyalty thing they have. And then there is the whole life the Mayor apparently had before her but, really, that's trivial at this point.
“I have a speculation. But because I was not there to witness the event itself, I would like to hear it from you.” Obviously that is not all there is to it, because they have a smirk on their face. A nasty one. He could only afford to stare at it for a good two seconds before he got just the slightest bit too pissed off.
“You just want me to say it out loud,” Macaque muttered. To rub in the wound with salt, he assumes. Just something else for them to laugh at. He tries to remember all of the stupid shit the Mayor has done to make himself less frustrated. To make the salt taste like sickly sugar. All of the times the guy didn’t know how things worked, or how many times the guy has had to ask for his help (which wasn’t a lot), or, other things. There were other things.
“Perhaps. But regardless, some context behind this mess would be much appreciated.”
As if they knew they finally struck gold with a decent question this time, they turned back to their work still carrying that shit eating grin on their face. Humming softly (inaudible to the average ear) a funny, out of tune ditty.
“I lured MK and his friends in here, and then I had a little bit of fun,” Macaque fessed up.
“Fun?” they chuckled, looking around the room, “Is that how you describe it?”
“Egh,” He shrugged lazily, the bristles on his brush almost marking a spot it wasn’t meant to. “It was funny for the most part. Really messed up the kids head.” he thinks about it now, and honestly, he doesn’t really regret it. It was a laugh back then, and it still is now. The kid needed a lesson anyways, and who's to say he can’t make his lessons fun? He wasn’t boring and a bystander like Wukong had been with MK. No, he liked to be more practical- was that really such a bad thing? Apparently so.
“It is amusing how you continuously give into your impulsive thoughts and ideas to hurt people.”
“They’re not impulsive,” Macaque had to retort, and not bother to deny any of the other stuff. Hurting people was easier and less of a hassle than buddying up to them anyways. He had the demon bull family and that was more than enough. Baihe was a bit of a grey area all things considered, and the Mayor? A very, very dark shade of grey that one. “I make intricate plans and all of my actions are scripted.”
“So you like to think everything is a game?”
“World’s a stage,” Macaque replied, offering the other a strained grin. Not strange like theirs, more… passive aggressive.
“You think you are the main character? Are you that self centred?”
“Ew no,” He physically recoiled, “I’m the bad guy.”
“You still believe that?”
The banging of the hammer against wood and nails stopped, and that was the only time Macaque even registered that the sounds had been filling the silence in the first place. When the air became still, he almost wished he could drone out that rhythmic noise again.
“You think I’m a bad guy, don’t you?” Macaque said with a scoff.
“Of course I do. You have proved yourself to be quite terrible multiple times.” Those gleaming blue eyes glanced away, turning back to their work but not starting again. Simply twirling the small hammer in their hand absentmindedly. And it was like Macaque could still hear that god awful tune the guy had been humming before. “But did you not go on that little quest for forgiveness and typing up loose ends? Do you not think of yourself as redeemed yet?”
“Wasn’t really looking for redemption.” As he resumed painting once more, he could see that some of the areas he had started painting before had already begun to dry up. How long had he been here? This wasn’t fast drying paint, was it?
“All you wanted was to stop feeling guilty.”
“Yeah pretty much.”
“Did you succeed?”
There was a pause.
“I never did ask you that now, did I?” The Mayor continued.
This wasn’t something he wanted to talk about now, especially when he could swear his back was beginning to act up from hunching over for so long. No matter how fit someone was, or how flexible- no matter the fact that he was a demon and he could literally melt into shadows, he was sure that a few hours of hunching on the floor and painting pillars would do awful stuff to your posture. He kind of felt like shit, actually. He should take a break but he wants to get this done and over with.
“I feel better than before,” Macaque admitted with a huff, “That's something isn’t it?”
“It is-”
“How are your floorboards going?” It was his turn to change the subject. Abruptly. Almost in a panic. Desperate to deviate the conversation on anything but himself. Either the Mayor didn’t understand the social cue enough that they did not try to evade it or, they finally pitied him.
“Oh it is wonderful! They perfectly match my pre-existing flooring. Bloodied boards have all been disposed of and it is like I never even commenced several rituals in my living room!”
Maybe he shouldn’t have changed the subject. He kind of regrets it now.
But at least for the most part, the rest of that time they spent together was meaningless. Except for the fact that the Mayor did indeed fix the crater they had ‘helped make’, and left, clearly not wanting to do more work that was meant for the shadow demon.
~~~
“So? What do you think? Hm?” He playfully nudged the theatre manager’s side, but withdrew with a flat face when she wouldn’t budge or react.
“Acceptable, in terms of first impressions.” she eyed the room carefully, clearly looking double on every spot that she could remember that had been broken. He couldn't tell if she was exactly ‘admiring’ his handiwork but it doesn’t seem like he’s done anything wrong yet. “I will take a closer inspection later, and consult the newest building standards and architectural experts in place by the law.”
“Say what now?” He said, his head turning to the other demons.
“New building laws,” she reiterated. Conveniently, in her clip board she seemed to have a paper copy of them. Pulling the papers out and almost shoving it into his hand. “They just passed in our city. One of the first to be distributed as the new standard. Unfortunately, these rules did not come sooner when the rebuilding process of the city had actually been happening but, this is always quick in terms of how fast the government can work.”
As he read the convenient bullet points and tick boxes that have yet to be ticked for this specific room (it had been ticked for all other rooms listed on the sheet. She seemed to have been doing a mandatory check throughout the entire theatre for these new building legislations). Some things he’d seen before (because he was not a fool. He had checked the ‘old’ building standards before fixing up this place), but others?
… he’s going to kill the Mayor. The arsehole probably waited for Macaque to finish the repairs before they signed the government legislation to be implemented in the city. Is that how it even worked?
“What even is this?” Macaque said with a scoff, “Working ventilation in every room with minor expectations, see article 54- dude, this is a theatre room. ” He gestures all around, “these places were built to be musty- it’s almost part of the charm.” It's not. It's really not, but he has to make a point against this decent regulation he randomly picked.
“Thankfully the two windows we have in here qualify,” the demoness said, narrowing her eyes, “but these new regulations have been put in place in response to the recent demon invasions. To make sure buildings are stronger. The air ventilation was an extra. The real rules are about the strength of walls and the materials they are used by. That all buildings now need some sort of basement or bunker under it to fit a sufficient amount of people depending on the size of your building. Safety procedures, bumped up to the max.”
“They’ll never be strong enough,” he said, narrowing his eyes back at her, “I’m pretty sure you and I could knock down one of these walls even if they were made of obsidian.”
“It is not in my position to go against the law,” she fired back, “if we do not stick to the standard, this place will shut down. Got it? So don’t be surprised if I say that you need to do more work. And it will be a while before we can deem this a safe room. I will need to have a professional inspect this place, which will take days to acquire and book a time for them to come around.” And with that, she walked away. Further into the theatre and walking down the stairs (not not before snatching back the checklist Macaque held). “You can go now.” She had said while she was taking photos of the previously damaged spots.
But of course he didn’t leave. He did walk away but he stuck to the shadows. Watching, trying to deviate her attention away from the more shabby areas of the room which he had been a bit too lazy to fix properly but- surely, surely, he fixed the room well enough. He even fixed the outside wall and the manager hasn't even checked that out yet.
It is what it is, he tries to tell himself sourly as he watches the demoness tut to herself, shaking her head, and scribble something that he hopes is only as bad as a question mark. He thinks to himself, Maybe I’ll harass the Mayor after this. I’ll feel a little better after that.
And he did. Through a series of annoying phone calls which he was sure had driven the other insane at some point, more than they already were.
All in all, good fun. If what he fixed doesn’t meet the new standards, he’s dragging that guy with him.