Like the Ouroboros

by Little_Stupid_Me

Summary:

The snake devours its own body. It slays itself and brings itself to life, a never ending cycle of destroying and giving birth to itself. No beginning, no ending. What was Eclipse's existence, but this?

 

(or, a compilation of one-shots inspired on sams eclipse) 

Chapter 1: Gravedigger

It all started with a whisper in the air. The once sky was a perfect sunny day, bright cerulean blue with hints of whitish clouds that were quickly darkening. The sun turned these clouds into flaming patchworks of blazing yellows, burgundy reds, and polished browns. The first drops were like sparkling silver pearls, like butterfly kisses and misty dew. Now, it has become a wall of water, with drops as heavy and robust as oil.

 

Eclipse was very far from the Plex. There are tall trees everywhere, the path is covered by leaves with protruding thick roots here and there. At some point, as the storm soaked him to the endoskeleton, he removed his elf-like shoes. The current footing was flooded plots of land, his feet sinking low enough it reached past his ankles, soaking his pants. 

 

“This is a horrible idea… Why did I think this was a good idea?”

 

It's rhetorical, like most of his monologues, but he needs to hear something besides the pouring rain. Currently, it was safer being an walking lighting rod than staying at the daycare, or generally even at the Pizzaplex. He got fairly desensitized by the thought of dying by lighting again, another reason to go out during a downpour. 

 

Eclipse needs to get away, as far as possible. Far from the drama, far from this dimension. But first, he still needs to keep his part. Because, how could he leave, when he was proved right, wrongfully killed and now bounded by sentimentality? If he leaves, he has a point to prove first. If not for those who wronged him, but for Earth. She's nice, Eclipse kinda wishes he could have done one last appointment before going out. 

 

Things keep happening, even with no direct villain to wreck with the celestial family. Solar became dust, Moon cracked up, Earth’s burnout made her temporarily resign, Lunar’s got intergalactic issues and Sun survives. There's no space to even breath for Eclipse, just like when he first woke up outside of his body. When he woke up after dying. And again. And again. 

 

“There's no contingency. This is it.”

 

He goes west, where the path has a lot of rocks and steep declines in the terrain. Like two places merged together. Eclipse wonders if Ruin would have walked those same roads with him, had him being built for something more than a distraction. No time to dwell on it. He came here for a single purpose. 

 

Eclipse was all hard lines and solid shiny coating. Solar was the soft and pliable, bending himself for those around. It was stupid, no past Eclipse had such softness that tries to contaminate his mind. Doesn't help on making him feel lesser, but sure contributes on how pathetic he truly feels. Perhaps, that's what made him such a target on the bloodthirsty maniacs mind. He was weak. 

 

“Why do I care?”

 

Even if it was his goal all along, he still freezes when he sees the long stems with reddish spots and streaks. He expected to find deep corrosion, discolored casing and mangled nothingness. But the corpse is almost intact, for little to no rust, with tiny white flowers growing around it. Little umbrella-shaped clusters on ends of branched stems.

 

The orange of the corpse is only slightly faded, but it had no right arm or the legs. It was totally carbonized, a clear shown of the power of Sun's spell. Even if the words wore wrong, it successfully perished the parasite on his mind. Now just junk and scrap, ever so slowly rotting away on this godforsaken forest. 

 

Eclipse unconsciously curls in on himself. Knees on the floor, his body curled against his thighs and his arms wrapping around himself. He counts the seconds, looking at his internal clock. It's truly the original. He bitterly wonders if it seems fit to say the first Eclipse is currently pushing up daisies, when his death bed is made by hemlock flowers. 

 

When the noise of the fans dies down to their common hum, he stands up. The once imperceptible sound of his footsteps sound like explosions in your head. Eclipse questions his physiology, without biological flesh or nerves for adrenaline release. He holds your hands tightly, refusing to accept the tremors.

 

He cradles his fallen predecessor mechanically, his body feeling heavy as if trapped in muscular tension. Eclipse rubs her fingers, somewhat stuck in creating electrical discharge and trying a spell, anything to give him the full dissection of what he got himself into. The systems are dead, no reviving possible, the memory chip far damaged being repair. The original was dead for good. 

 

Or that should be, if he had not start scavenging through the small fragments of clarity, the preserved fragments of life. He got to remember strong as the oak arms hold him. He remember hot and humid nights, cold and constant waterfalls. The images of the sky with a thousand colors, when now only darkness remains.

 

There are nights of no sleeping, looking at the moon. Now it has nothing. The body no longer has those to worry about when the lights are off, this house is dead. Longing for shrill voices and gangly bodies, foggy and uncertain construction. Maybe memories of dreams. 

 

Yet it has no family of land left, they are faded as air, eternally ungraspable. Killcode murdered by their son's, the son's dead by the Sun. It was left with the volcanic side, where living conditions are unviable. Eclipse feels like he's going to suffocate from the sulfur lodged in the corpse bones, but he knows there's no hiding. When you are raised with blood in your eyes, there is little you can do.

 

However, he's not here to achieve closure. He's here for the power that reeks of magic. The same thing that keeps this body intact. If he can't get Lunar to be his battery, maybe this ancestor can do it. After all, the dead won't mind. 

 

“Anyways, why throw away a perfectly good source of power?”

Chapter 2: Rolling Boy

Summary:

It's been almost a month after the New Moon had gone mad. Stitchwraith and Adaptation had previously been decommissioned, making Original make harsh decisions and believe in Ruin. He should have know better than trust a amalgamation of Sun and Moon, but Eclipse can't blame Original.

That doesn't mean it wasn't hard to grab him before New Moon could have killed him with star power, he was lucky Puppet got in the way. He managed to grab a kicking and screaming half, in a breakdown for not being able to reconnect with the “dead” half.

It took way longer to explain that the inanimate state they laid wasn't death, but serious repairing. Eclipse left the moment Original threw himself at his brother's arms, weeping in relief, ignoring a powering on Stitchwraith.

Eclipse just needed a walk, there's no reason why Miku and Stitchwraith kept messaging him.

 

ft. Villains Play AU. 

The moon drips through the window. He was choking, feeling dizzy. Felt like riding a merry go round, but only in tight circles. At some point, he managed to break free from the loop of sitting and standing up quickly a dozen times. He couldn't find comfort by laying on his side, so instead he managed to lie on his back despite the small latch on his back. 

 

Eclipse was nervously tapping his fingers, unconsciously touching his thumbs with his fingertips. Had he been human, he may have developed calluses on his fingertips. However, he couldn't focus on it, his face was burning, like tears would fall anytime. Feeling the burn from his mouth to his stomach. 

 

Hyperventilating a little, moving his wobbly legs to rub his feet against the sheets below him. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. Stop after the count of twenty each, then repeat. His head spins a bit, but he keeps his faceplate locked at the window, watching the night. He could see shining stars and the full moon past the cracked glass, the moth eaten curtains doing a terrible job in covering it.

 

「ᴇᴄʟɪᴘsᴇ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ」

 

The only light comes from the moon and his phone, which currently waits discarded on top of the pile of dirty clothes, right where it landed when he chucked it at the wall earlier, because the constant ringing was making him crazy. At some point, he had silenced it, but kept hallucinating it was still ringing. 

 

So instead of accepting the calls or answering the messages, he tried to drown it out with music. He had been stuck in repeating the same song for at least three hours now. It’s comforting and should make him concentrate, since his brain knows what to expect. Different from those talks, different from this home. He shouldn't be here. 

 

There's no recollections of this place, no memories that his predecessors could have held. But then again, his memory bank is filled with holes and blank spaces, pieces are missing. It felt so natural, pushing the rusted shut door and entering the never known trailer. The others probably don't know about it either, considering the place's current state. 

 

『ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ, ᴅɪᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ』

 

Eclipse shouldn't have come here, not without Bloodmoon. The twins would probably have enjoyed the place more than him, they were the ones that ever had any connections to their code donator. But then again, those were the original Bloodmoon, this version is more like him than Eclipse was ever comfortable admitting. 

 

He didn't know what to expect, lots of things, but never more than one designed bedroom area. There were three Murphy's beds, with one being much bigger, which obviously showed it could only belong to Killcode. What caught him was the fact that there were three beds instead of one. If the first Eclipse and Bloodmoon didn't live here, then why did Killcode even bother?

 

「ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ's ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ғɪɴᴇ, ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ɪs ɢᴏɴɴᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ sʜᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ」

 

‘Shut me down, you never can. I'm eternal, I'm the blood land’, as the twins could be worse than Eclipse at staying dead. Good quality when they are all allies, a nuisance to their victims. Runs in the family. Still, if it really does, why didn't KC come back? 

 

Eclipse was currently on his predecessor's father's bed. It felt too hollow at first, so much felt like it was missing from the home he never saw before. Maybe he could have found Killcode's body instead, as it layed peacefully in a bed turned tomb. He filled it with all the sheets, torn clothes and blood stained blankets he could find. The pillow under his head smelt like death. 

 

If there was any way to explain how he was feeling right now, it would have been warm. And sick. So much he feels like overheating, his casing melting into the nest. When he found the bottle in the fridge, he shouldn't have settled for drinking it. It tasted gross and burned like eating a jalapeno, he felt like he could combust any second now. 

 

『ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ』

 

Nevertheless, he takes a new swing and swallows. Heat lightning shoots through his skull, short-circuiting the wires. Eclipse is cold, then hot, and then he can’t feel his fingers or toes. The room smelt like old air and stale dust, but something drumming on his chest didn't let him get up and leave. Why does he feel longing? 

 

Like if Eclipse slept in his bed, at least once, inhaling all that he never had through the worn bed sheets, he could find closure. There's no closure. There's a stack of dusty boxes never unpacked, there's a platter of half-eaten gingerbread cookies on the floor along with a bottle of vodka he snatched away. This home is dead. 

 

So instead, he watches the only living thing in this godforsaken trailer. At some point, the music stopped being background noise, his ears muffling its existence completely. A spider dangles by his side. It swings toward him, brushing over his face and landing on the headboard. It dances the thread in place and swings back. 

 

Playing out thread from its tiny limbs slicing through like black knives. The web grows, strand by strand. First up-and-down threads, then connecting with side-to-side threads. There's more silk, tension, places to walk. All weaving a world made from the inside of her. 

 

Eclipse had stripped away from his hoodie and pants, his shoes stayed by the doorframe. He wonders, had he had lady-spider legs instead of his digitigrade ones, would he weave a sky where the stars lined up. A world he hasn't failed, where it doesn't hurt and his mind doesn't spin in endless hurricanes. Where the moon would rise above the wine-dark sea and everything would be right. 

 

『ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ᴇxʜᴀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ』

 

He doesn't know how long he stared at the hairy little tar beads with ballerina feet. Eclipse has legs similar to his brother and father, another connection he cannot feel any feelings input. Should have been a joke, but it's hollow when you lack the emotional build behind it. Those are just legs, nothing more. Not even a reminder. 

 

Like this trailer, that he could never learn to appreciate. Not in a million years. Why does he keep on living? Why does he keep on trying? Everything might really all just be for nothing though, because he knows when a thousand years have gone by there won’t be anything. But he still fought to be here, not able to accept being put down. 

 

Even so, he gets up and limps towards the fridge, no balance or guidance. His hands on the walls, trying to memorize every single corner and crack, make it eternal on his memory chip. He grabs the bags of O- blood on the fridge and his phone, not questioning why it was still there. After all, nobody is ever making any sense at all. 

 

He makes quick work of putting the stripped pantaloon, tying the hoodie around his waist and putting the slip on shoes. Feels wrong about its confining interior, but he hates showing his paws. What if it becomes a weakness in the approaching future? He closes the door and rests his side on it, the blood bags under an arm, while he types away an answer to the previous spam of messages in the shared group chat. 

 

«ɪ'ʟʟ ʀᴏʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ»

 

Chapter 3: Bad Child

Summary:

From all the places he could have been ordered around, he was where he avoided the most. Eclipse can only scoff, to think they are so desperate to find reasons to kill him already.

Seriously, they could ask him and he would probably remove his memory chip himself. Too tired to care anymore. Oh well, maybe helping around the daycare will be better than hitting his head against the wall.

Grinding gears inside his head, it started with a throbbing behind his left eye that spread out through his whole head. Lights on, it's painful and the children are screaming so loud it's making his stomach hurt. The sound of stomping through soft padded mats for the flooring, bright colorful play structures being an overstimulating eyesore. 

 

The moveable barrels are scattered around the place, a clear sign that the clean freak Sun wasn't around. Thinking about it, that's not even his daycare to begin with. Eclipse was ordered to help Earth and Lunar, because there weren't enough daycare assistants around. They really needed to recheck their budget.

 

So here he was, at the security desk, his arms on the table as he tried to bury his head in it. As if it would turn off the several computers and the huge monitor of "Sunnydrop Energizing Candy". He needed to get out, any excuse is better than hearing the obnoxious background music on repeat. 

 

He can't bother with the backside of his faceplate exposed, maybe a kid can pull out his wires and he will catch a break. Maybe he can remove it himself, but he would have to deal with the camera recordings and an annoying Moon barking at him. Feet nervously tapping against the ground, even the sound of his bells is taking away any sense of self he originally had. 

 

From all the things they could have asked him, he just needs a way out. “You little twerp!” Bingo. 

 

He gets up through glitching eye LEDs. All he can see in front is obnoxious undulating lights, while his peripheral vision is a mess of spots that swim like an aquarium full of guppies. However, that's of little importance, when he can hear the crackling of Lunar’s lightning. Just as he can feel the child falling by his feet, as if trying to get away. He will do it a favor. 

 

Eclipse’s voice is hoarse as he forces out small chuckles. “Naughty child… I'm putting you in time out!”

 

Arm to the chest, grab thigh. He would blame it on muscle memory, but the excuse falls short when you're made of metal. Either way, he grabs the kids as he once did as Moon, like those little rulebreakers were nothing more than tiny babies. He drowns out any protests of Lunar, pushing the blue blob of his way, uncaring about the lighting. Hypocrite. 

 

He needs somewhere dark, but the daycare still has no proper nap time corner. He used to foam about it, thankfully it came as a blessing for now. Good thing he could scrap some security protocols. The place has tons of hidden rooms, hidden passages, connections to anywhere you could imagine. All you have to do is know how to look for it. 

 

The kid by his arms had tried scratching and biting, even trying to kick his legs away from Eclipse's grip. It didn't stir the animatronic away from its objective. As one creature of habit, having repeated this same rote over and over again until he got to know it by heart, he pulls away one very concealed cutout. He missed it. 

 

The throbbing in his head goes away for a bit, as he can finally see again in the dark room. The boy in his arms stares at it with wide eyes, clinging to his arms. The floors were plush and soft, perfect for small children to lay on. Pillows of different sizes were littered about, some sheets were hung on the ceiling. Eclipse grabs the outlet by instinct, plugging it correctly. Fairy lights twirled around the room and he felt the small lad giggling. 

 

He fights back a smirk, dropping the kid down in a pile of pillows. The kid laughs still, with only a small huff. “Naughty boy… naughty boy…” It's like second nature falling back into the role, contorting his body and pretending to not see the kid squealing and fumbling in the pillows.

 

“Bad children mus be found…” Eclipse can perfectly see now in the dark, like the small plastered on the child's face as it tries to hide behind one of the hung sheets. “Bad children must be punished…”

 

He kicks away his slip on shoes, the bells making little to no sound, enough for the kid to be distracted. Eclipse crawls close like a spider, jumping on the kid and minding his nature, only pushing enough for the kid to scream and laugh in surprise.

 

“Naughty, naughty!” He picks and throws the boy's shoe away, revealing his shark socks. He was so distracted, he didn't see the other curious kids approaching the open door and entering. “Now, it's your time to be punish–”

 

A pillow hits his back, as three new bodies cling to his back. He has to try and get up, so he won't crush the small boy under him. “Oliver, run!” 

 

The boy has the nerve to grab one of his bigger sun rays and forcibly spins it, showing his tongue and slithering away. The moment Oliver is out, the other three rascals run away, giggling and pulling each other's hands. Eclipse eyes shine a cryptic orange, the hunt is on. 

 

It took a while, but he got it. Eclipse currently slumped each limb on the five little scalawags. Theo passed out while trying to nibble away one of his leg frills, while Mateo accepted defeat and hugged his other leg while napping peacefully. Evelyn had surrendered while her fingers intertwined with his ribbons and frills, Samuel pressed his head against his other hand and was snoring peacefully. 

 

Leaving him with only a small little one awake, mighty Oliver, who was currently trying to push his head away from his tummy. “Nighty-night.” Eclipse giggled, pretending to sleep and seeing the boy trying to claw away. His chest was bubbly, it was weird, he didn't usually feel like this when he was still Moon. Maybe that was part of Sun's coding messing with him. 

 

“No nap, time to play!” The kid grabbed his smaller rays, more gently than he ever anticipated. “Gotta stay awake, have to see daddy first!”

 

Would Eclipse still have his old code, had he not been a useless hunk of garbage scrapped virus that had been pry out of someone's head, he would have already forced a couple of “Moondrop Sleepy-Time Candy” down Oliver's throat. Nevertheless, it is still better staying here with the tykes than returning to the overstimulating daycare. 

 

So he carefully moves the kids around, so the four resting ones are pretty much pressed together, holding the pillows and plushies alike. Eclipse sits criss-cross applesauce and places the boy on his lap, as the very tired boy fights back against the sleep. 

 

He drops away the acting voice, going back to his painfully monotone real voice. “Oliver, your dad is only coming for pickup in a few hours. A nap won't hurt you, actually, you would have more energy to play with him.”

 

“What? No, not dad Leo!” His shark socks tapping softly against the pillows, as he tries to kick a moon plushie away. “I mean my daddy Asher, he lives in the stars”

 

“... Uh…” Eclipse does an emergency and frantic search on the daycare kids registers, in case he is missing something. “You mean like an astronaut?”

 

“No, silly” Thankfully, the toddler only laughs, resting his head against the solar bot chest. “Mama says daddy Asher passed to the stars, he lives there then”

 

Uh. Passed. Oh, passed away. How was he supposed to deal with this topic, he lacks the proper code or even knowledge for handling children. It's a miracle those kids didn't run away crying and screaming, demeaning him a monster. 

 

“I see… but your daddy won't be mad” He ruffles the kids hair, as he points to the star shaped fairy lights attached to the ceiling. “I know for a fact, he likes to protect and care for you. Keeping the monsters away while you sleep.”

 

“You promise?”

 

“Of course, baby” He giggles back, pulling closer to the kid that tries to cling on him like a koala. “Your daddy wants you healthy and rested. It's fine, you can sleep and he will keep watch”

 

Eclipse presses his back against the wall, half covered by the hanging sheets. He wonders if he should glow, but decides to leave it for another day. Another day? Right now, if he does try it, he runs the risk of awakening the children and he really doesn't want to deal with cranky toddlers. And the only one at fault would be him. 

 

“When the blazing sun is gone… When he nothing shines upon” He doesn't have a music box anymore, but he still has some lullabies burned into his systems. “Then you show your little light… Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.”

 

And it feels right, like he finally got a purpose. For once, he stopped feeling like the person that ripped itself in pieces and refused to be whole. The one part that was scrapped and refused to die out of sheer spite. He will never hear the end of this, Earth's definitely going to interrogate him in their next session.

 

How could he, the big bad Eclipse, be tamed by some little punks. In their eyes, he should be nothing more than a bot who is just like a hundred thousand other animatronics in the Plex. And Eclipse should have no need for them. Just like them, on their part, have no need for him. 

 

But while this kid lays on his arms, as those children move and cuddle close against his legs, he can't help but feel like he worths something. But which him should it even be? There's a him stuck underground, a him left on the shelf. A him that gets paraded: a him that's shown to everyone else. 

 

Is there even any other faced left for him to use? A new mask that fits and doesn't twirl on his insides like suffocating cords. It's so quiet, only breathing sounds and the occasional snores. His head once solid were blur, a reconnection of memories and missing parts. The others playing as Dr. Jekyll, so he played mr. Hyde

 

And there's where he missed, his eyes in a mist. Eclipse had shot at himself. All those antagonizing choices, all those torments he wanted to inflict. Nothing more than a reflection of the else. The disconnection, the side of the coincoin at once withheld. He needed something, any reaction or a crowd to listen. He did it to himself. 

 

So what? Is not like he will go back, there's no redemption. Of course not. That's just nonsense in Eclipse's head. Redemption, the non-existent humanity. There isn't anything left that could save him, the chances once given were the lifes he lived before. This one is punishment. And there is no undoing what is done. 

 

“... Uh.. Mr. ‘Clips?” Evelyn is by his side, he's only half aware of Theo getting up and preparing to jump into Samuel and Mateo. “It was fun playing, but… Can we do some arts and crafts?”

 

Eclipse blinks aware the hour he wasted inside his head. Useless thoughts, he really needs something to keep him stimulated and away enough of such nonsense. Once he leaves the nap-time room, everything goes back into a blur. Ten minutes out, glitter glue and popsicle sticks scattered everywhere. Because he was really avoiding the crumbles of play clay. 

 

He understands why those kids were supposed to be on time out, but truly, he still feels a bit bad about it. Hyperactive kids, but not bad intentioned. He even sat down and helped Evelyn and Samuel do fake nails with the clay, as Theo and Mateo were using the sticks as makebelieve swords. 

 

Oliver was awkwardly quiet by his side, clutching a star plushie to his chest. Back to back against Eclipse, just silently staring the “space book for kids” the solar bot doesn't remember grabbing. However, none of the other kids fought for the book, letting Oliver enjoy it alone. When the parents arrive after an hour, Eclipse barely felt the time pass by. He just waves and accepts the hugs and kisses, an rarity for bots like him. 

 

But when Oliver's mom comes to pick him up, he can't stop himself. “You're a good kid, Ollie. The stars will always smile at you.” Just as everything else that happened today, he won't ever share the smile the kid gave him or about the showing tongue. 

 

Its a really weird experience, one Eclipse is sure any other of his previous selves could never share. Even after he was forced to help clean the daycare, hear Lunar's complaining and even snitching him to Earth, Eclipse doesn't feel anything boiling inside. It comes down like a crashing realization. Eclipse is not angry, not totally angry. Not all that angry anymore. 

 

It feels like love is seeping out of his pores, he doesn't hold anger anymore. Feels a bit disgusting, but he's alright with it. He can live with it. 

Chapter 4: Quitter

Summary:

It took a while, but Solar was back.

Everyone was happy and in celebration, Eclipse had actually done it. Enough that the family forgot about the Astral bodies, about New Moon's betrayal and much more.

He made a promise and kept his part of the deal, the family got their chosen Eclipse and now he had the free-card. Time for him to use it.

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including the “ouroboros slays itself” and dehumanization.

The lighting on its base is very poor, the neon signs doing an insufficient job at brightening the room. Its back pressed against Solar's reconstruction chamber, the blue glow engulfing him away. The notebook rests against its knees, its hands grip dangerously tightening. By its side, there's littering crumpled papers, all useless. 

 

“This is pathetic.” Clone complains to itself, legs pressed against its stomach as one hand sinks its claws on the ankles. “I've already died once before...I..I think I'm tired..”

 

Copy is nothing but nausea, reverie and longing. How is it supposed to ever show even a modicum of friendliness when all it knows is feelings of deep anxiety or dread. But still, in these short last minutes, it wants to follow the guide of one of the only beings that bothered with its predecessor. Maybe the last Eclipse failed to accomplish it, but it doesn't outright mean Clone can't make it right. 

 

It tears away the nonsense it had tried to write for the past half hour and throws the paper ball behind his back, only for it to ricochet against the glass tube and end by its side. At least one note, one small letter, it doesn't need the best words in the best order, Copy only needs words in their best order. 

 

The pen against the floor, both hands going to grab its rays and pull a little at it. “Or at least decent enough for her to understand” He closes his eyes and tries to remember anything of significance, any word that would make it worth the embarrassment. 

 

Because Clone is leaving and Earth considers it a friend, and to show it appreciates her, it needs to leave at least a letter. At least, Copy thinks so. It doesn't really get most social cues the other animatronics seem to leech into, really, it's just nonsense and human weakness by its eyes. It just does not compute correctly on Clone's systems. 

 

Leaving is an art. Copy learned it from the masters, so all Artificial Intelligence like him has to understand it. It has learned from Sun, who left it in every way but one. It learned from Moon who, when he left, left nothing but anger behind. And now it is learning how to leave like Lunar, who went quietly and slipped from its grasp before it could notice. It is learning how to leave with nothing. 

 

And if all of them were allowed to leave, so is Clone. It doesn't need to stay in a place that has done nothing but see it as a ghost of trauma, as it doesn't want all the baggage from its predecessors and taking accountability for what it never did. Is irrational and nonsensical, it didn't take a supercomputer to understand that.

 

“Just… What can I get from all the therapy talk?” Copy knows Solar is unreachable for now, but it feels only natural to try and ask him. “What matters for her, for normal people?”

 

Because at the end of the day, Clone knows it's a better knife than it's a person. It won't ever be a person. It has no hobby, no age, no favorite food or color. Its own name doesn't belong to it. Sometimes, when Clone used to quietly sit on its cell and Nexus was still around, Copy would wonder if he wasn't only software, pretending to be AI. After all, what image would it put on its lifeless body? 

 

“Sometimes you will sit in the sun and things won't be so bad. Because this is very fun for me, I've come to appreciate those moments with you” Clone tries to write once again, anything that comes out this time is sufficient. “And I've never been one for subtlety so consider this a eulogy that I'm not alone in this, you left your footprints, you made a difference. So for a lack of better way to conclude this, I'll say: no one's better than you.”

 

Still feels lacking, something is missing somewhere and it can't place it. Shaking its hands nervously, the soft jingling of the bells penetrating its LPAR. “Oh.” It carefully undoes the ribbons, ripping the page and using the bow to hold it closed. 

 

Everyone in the family had bells, in some form or another, and Copy wasn't part of them to use their identifying accessory. Earth could have much better use anyway, Clone always thought it was a bit mean-spirited that none of them ever gave her ribbons and bells. Even the first Eclipse gave those for Bloodmoon, no matter how many times they would accidentally tear them apart. 

 

Copy slowly gets up, doing for the fifth time a rotation check. First thing it does is grab the corrupted pen drive, where all of his past backups were destroyed and untraceable. Then it checks if the timer on Solar's tube was still following the right amount of time, Clone's portable tool box, pantaloons and elf-shoes by the table side and the small “good luck” sticky note still there. Even if this version of Solar was essentially being built with a blue version of a Sun body, it would still leave its things for Solar. The other Eclipse would have better use for this anyway, is not like Copy is gonna be able to take anything with itself. 

 

“There goes nothing…” Clone mumbles to itself, getting up and conjuring a portal. This is it. 

 

No one is at home, because Copy made sure that Sun would reunite everyone in the daycare center for Solar's arrival. However, Clone doesn't dwelled around, it goes straight to where it should go, that being Earth's room. It tiptoes its way, uneasy to be in a place it wasn't previously being given permission, but still leaves its letter in her bed. Copy hopes she likes it. 

 

After this, is a slow descend, unable to avert its eyes of every little crevice and window it passes by. The moon is rising and the stars are shining, bugs are hopping and it's still looking into something. But what should it be, remains a forever secret for itself. Clone doesn't let itself drown in those matters, picking all the salt bags it could find in the kitchen and dragging them with it to the bathroom. 

 

For Copy, things seem to be in slow motion and taking too much time. The bathtub takes an eternity to fill in, so much that it simply threw the salt inside and left the restroom. It waits by the kitchen, looking outside and seeing so much life, the singing of the bugs that awake at night. It feels restless enough that its mind goes back to the letter. 

 

What if it isn't enough, if Earth notices it is shallow just like all human emotions Clone's system tries to simulate. Should it have tried better to prove that there's love inside of itself, some place far far away? But it knows it doesn't ever really matter when Lunar is walking among her and the family. The thing Eclipse created by ripping apart parts of himself any joy, love and compassion. But that was Original, not you. 

 

“Really, now, you're gonna pull a ‘learned helplessness’ spiel?” The voice behind him dripped with sarcasm, a body leaned against its back. “Tell me, my dear, why do you keep making choices that end like this?”

 

The hands too close to the back of its headplate, the sensory input a mess of pain and shivering discomfort. The metal plates of its spine blows steam from the vents along its throat in a huff, as Copy lazily lets its body be manipulated and moved by the hands. Although all the signals its systems try to send to itself, Clone's simply not circuited to feel strong emotions or have an assigned input for them. 

 

It forces out a half-grunt half-chuckle, already switching for its internals to sensation-seeking back, finally finding something that would counteract the emotional emptiness. “Please, Dusk, we both know too well how my brain was wired. Don't be stupid now, I thought you were a better Sun.” 

 

Copy giggles away the feeling of claws against its sun rays, nothing ever came to compare with the thing inserted inside his head. “A shadow of a shadow of a shadow… and still, got some nerve?” They're both standing up now, as Dark Sun moves it how he pleases. “Just some stupid bits of data… I'm not going to lie, it's not a bad name. More creative than whatever others ever came up with.”

 

The bathtub is filled now, the excess salt sticking to the bottom. Like a small puddle of the ocean, where Clone could rust away in peace. Dark Sun let's go of it, leaning against the sink counter, messing with something that was in his hands. Copy doesn't remember when it lent the paper and pen drive to him, since it was supposed to be left by the kitchen. Whatsoever, Clone doesn't question it, simply entering the tub. 

 

“So that was your choice?” The other solar bot questions it, one hand tapping his fingers against the sink. “You simply want to go ahead? Die right now, for real. For real?”

 

Copy doesn't know if it needs to answer, this small salt chunk should be an enough response. All that is truly missing is the foam, but it doesn't mind, Clone's husk will oxidize just fine anyway. So it only focuses on finding the line where the casing meets and starts to pull. It wasn't much damage, the casing had lifted a little and had a spiderweb of cracks forming. 

 

“Quitter, quitter, quitter, quitter!” Dark Sun was by its side, holding its shoulders as he cracked in laughter mid his own sing-song tone. “Quit, quit, quit, quit. You're a quitter!”

 

There's oil leaking through its joints and pulled parts, warning messages continued to pop-up and Clone kept dismissing them. But its work had to be quicker, before its endoskeleton locked together thanks to the corrosion. Thankfully for it, the other solar bot took pity of it and guided its hands to the rays. Just the right stimulation to grab them and yank them out. 

 

The touch receptor frizzled under the punishment, but its processors didn't do much other than archiving the sensor input to its memory bank. The mechanical parts attached to it were ripped off clean, meaning no fragments fell on it, just the steady flow of the black gold. Copy almost wished it could actually feel things, know if it would be warm or cold. But just like the shower, it can only notice something is there, but not truly experience those details. 

 

Like how Dark Sun's touch was disturbingly gentle and soft, as if he feared to truly hurt the other bot. Both knew it wasn't the case, it's just the big facade he enjoyed to play every now and then. Not much different from Ruin, but still distinguished enough to be only his and not both theirs. The tender hands guiding Clone's own to the back of its head, aiming to the entrance slot where its chip resided. 

 

“Guess I was wrong about how bland you were” Now it's just a matter of intricate work, sinking the ray and pulling out the chip. “I can't help but admire, you're the first Eclipse I see taking this course. At least, I'm going to give you the credit.”

 

It's quick and painless, no ringing on its head or any warning signs. Something one would expect of Dark Sun, after all, cruelty is so easy. There's no fun, it doesn't make him special for choosing it. So he carefully puts the body back on the bathtub, submerging it a bit in the water, only an arm sticking out. Even after the removal of the chip, that he pocketed without second thoughts, there's no shift or twitch in the body. Its tightly grip remains on the ray turned blade. 

 

Now out of the husk it has habituated, it's all darkness and nothing. Nothing has meaning and Copy doesn't care. 

---

 

 

 

As soon as Dark Sun opens his portal to go away, another one opens. He stays behind a little, his grin only opening at seeing the whole gang entering the house. Monty is talking on the phone, Puppet sticking fun of Moon while Sun is trying to persuade Lunar of something. What a surprise, to think that Clone foresightedness was so on point. Which only left Earth and Jack by the daycare, welcoming Solar. Dark Sun is also gonna give Copy that, he managed to hide the whole ordeal from Earth. 

 

“Please, babe, it's fine… don't worry about it” They're moving to the hidden container Monty keeps his drinks and some illicit things he keeps hidden from her. “It's a party, we gotta celebrate right!”

 

He finishes the call the moment an over enthusiastic Sun and sarcastic Puppet move to open the container, stopping once they see a pen drive laying in front of it. Moon picks it up and rolls it on his hand, seeing its metal head was a bit bent, but nothing he couldn't fix. Lunar is the one to open the container, the letter falling on his hands to read it out loud for the others. Dark Sun decides he has seen enough and leaves, snickering to himself, a hand in the pocket as he holds Clone's chip close by. 

 

“Fuck you all, and fuck me as well. Have a gift. Go check your bathroom now.”

Chapter 5: Same-same, but different

Summary:

It at was their curse for being hyper-advanced Artificial Intelligence, the nature of learning algorithms to search for links and long for connections. The knowledge of so little of them being holistically creates such bonds, even if it's futile on itself.

It's a flawed process, when they should have been far smarter creatures to know such sentimentality was nothing but foolishly band together and try to label themselves, becoming vulnerable to such trivialities only humans could be bothered with.

And no matter how much Lunar or his ‘family’ tried to pretend they were fine, they weren't. How long can they possibly think they can keep pretending nothing happened?

Ft. Salvaged AU

 

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including homicidal ideation, self-inflicted injuries, abuse, trauma and gaslight.

Although it can be read as a side continuation to Quitter, the absence of it won't affect the understanding of this one.

The intoxicating bitter smell of bronze coinage, the body stained by the thick motor oil that didn't mix with the water. Like a waiting cadaver on the shores of a black beach, undisturbed by the dim lighting or the corrosion smell. Sometimes, when Lunar closes his eyes, it feels like the letter was written on his nonexistent eyelids. 

 

But it's fine , why wouldn't it? They asked him to do it, and Eclipse had given them a gift . They got exactly what they asked for but don't ever dare open your mouth to Earth or a ‘gator will bite your head off . So they kept their lives, working and living . Eclipse is gone, there's no need to talk about the dead . It's over. 

 

It doesn't matter if Sun's wine compartment is constantly being restocked. It doesn't matter if Moon had broken a monitor once he only found corrupted and intangible files on the pendrive. It does not matter if Monty lies and avoids his eyes whenever Earth creates a hopeful scenario of Eclipse texting her back soon. They have work to do, lifes to move on and finally forget about the stupid virus . 

 

The overwhelming obnoxious song of the daycare ringing in his ears, drowning out even the slight possibility of hearing his own thoughts. “Hey, Lunar, would you like a distraction? You seem like you need it” Moon's hand pressed against his shoulder brings him back, only for him to notice he had been dusting the same spot for the last fifteen minutes.

 

“Uh… sure” He tried to downplay it, letting go of the rag and dusting the sticky dirt that didn't want to let go of his hands. “Are we doing a gameplay? I've been thinking, we should try to play Sky! It's about-”

 

He stops once Moon sits back on the security desk, typing away on his computer. “Not really. So, I've been searching through the dimensions, maybe we should try again what we did once.” Oh. So he wants to try Solar's route again. 

 

It's just, wow. They're really gonna redo the same things they did once, again. But can Lunar really blame him? Old Moon and New Moon would be very similar after all, apparently this was their approach to how to handle traumatic situations. Earth would certainly have thoughts, won't they ever learn something and stop repeating the same mistakes again and again?

 

“Ok.”

 

There's really not many words as he walks towards the ballpit, Lunar doesn't even know what he was supposed to say. Many things keep happening, he doesn't even remember the last time they actually played a game and chilled for a bit. Maybe a distraction is all he needs. 

 

---

 

 

At first, he had to stop himself from crawling out of the ballpit. He just sat there, trying to understand what was going on. The usual daycare background music is gone, substituted by a mix of different instruments and another rhythm. Besides the very loud noise of children playing, it was very noticeable the song of ten-string guitars, triangles, accordions, bass drums and tambourines. 

 

The whole daycare aesthetic had been altered, no cutouts of the glamerocks could be seen. Even the images displayed on the monitors had changed for bonfires and fireworks. The daycare was decorated in colorful flags, balloons and flowers. The tables had checkered tablecloths with corn cobs around it, with some more straw hats hanging around the table and walls. 

 

“What the–” Lunar’s thought process was cut short with the sudden shrieking of children, as they all started grouping themselves in one stop in the middle of the play area. 

 

The children moved in a circle, as the song changed once again and lyrics in another language started playing. Lunar couldn't be bothered to use his internal translator, finally pushing himself out of the ballpit and coming closer. An animatronic was standing there, with an oversized floor length skirt. 

 

Each kid kneeled and grabbed a red ribbon that was sown at the green skirt's hemline, giggling to one another. “Now… spin!” That voice. The kids each got up and lifted the skirt, it barely even showed the shoes of Eclipse the animatronic, as they themselves moved around hopping and moving their hips. 

 

The animatronic was resembling a solar model, his casing was a half red and half maroon, his cheeks and eyes glowing the same shade of yellow. Two sets of rays on his head, the bigger and primary ones being blood orange while the smaller set in between was yellow. The animatronic was even using some kind of clip-ons on its rays, with some childish-looking representations  of stars, bonfires and kites. 

 

It's him, it's him, it's him, it's him Eclipse is alive and he's just here all along, isn't him, because they can never catch a break, he must have be trickering this dimension, because of course he would, because It's him, it's him, it's him, it's him-

 

“What the heck are you doing here?” Lunar snaps back at the female voice coming from his back, hands on his shoulders forcing him to move and face her. “You should not be here.”

 

“Wha-” It's Earth's equivalent of this dimension, but she's different, with grayish clouds for hair and her earrings are lightning bolts. “I just got here!”

 

Earth lets go of his arms, one hand pressed on her mouth as she moves from one side to another. Lunar can't really get what she's mumbling besides a “Of course those jerks haven't fixed the portal's restrictions yet”. There's the distinctive jingle of bells that moves Lunar to see the black ribbons on her wrists. Where have these come from?

 

She's overall different. This Earth is wearing pants with green and yellow stripes, much similar to their own jester aesthetic pants design. She also has green ruffles at her ankles and brown shoes curved at the top, like the elf shoes every daycare attendant model has. Those don't have bells, however. Even her colorful bow was gone, replaced by a muted rainbow headband. 

 

“Alright, fine.” She huffed out, grabbing Lunar's shoulder once again and pulling him away from Eclipse this dimension daycare kids. “What are you doing here?”

 

They pass through the automatic roll-up doors, moving through the large lobby. Earth turns a sharp curve, entering a room made especially for dress-up costumes and old theater stage figurines. Surprisingly enough, it's pretty clean and tidy, with everything in boxes with its contents handwritten with crayons on the front. 

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lunar asks, pushing her hand out of his shoulders and stepping away. “I haven't done anything and you're–”

 

“Don't you dare play dumb with me now!” Earth hisses out, jumping closer as she bares her sharp canines. “For the past month or so, you Lunars have done nothing but be a nuisance ! Find another Eclipse to torment, you freaks!”

 

“Wha– how dare you! I just got here and you–” He's cut short as Earth suddenly grows larger, hovering above him. He falls down.

 

He falls on a fuzzy rug, its faux fur sticking to him. Like how some daycare kids once told him their hair would stand up if they touched the metal door handle after walking across the carpet at their homes. He was producing electricity he had his powers out of control again, he didn't even notice he was catalyzing lighting on his exoskeleton . 

 

“Oh, you were saying?” Earth hoots, shrinking back to her normal size. “You were doing your little ‘dominance display’ since you got here. I'm not letting you hurt one of the twerps or Eclipse.”

 

It's just Gemini's situation all over again, if after he had the whole stupid talk with Eclipse, he thought if he repeated it enough times he didn't care it would no longer matter, but them the jerk had to and die- because they asked, it was their gift, it was their closure, they said it would be better after he died and still again they fall, again and again and again-

 

“I don't care what the other Earths are like, if they're such cowards to think they have to tip-toe around you and the others ” She keeps talking, venom running down each word. Why won't she stop talking? “They don't want to hurt, oh , the poor feelings of their brothers, only to have theirs walked on. Guess what, I'm not like them.”

 

She moved to one of the boxes, moving its content around and picking some plastic riband, slowly braiding her hair in twintails. Like is just another day of the week, like it's normal. “What do you want from me?? What am I supposed to do?” 

 

“Ever thought about growing up?” Earth snarks back, tying the band and making it a bow. “I know for sure others Earths are therapists like me, why aren't you doing the freaking therapy then?”

 

“YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IS LIKE–”

 

She punches the wall and it breaks, cracking like spiderwebs as some debris falls to the floor. Lunar shuts himself immediately, seeing the lighting bolts crackling in the corner of his eyes. Earth may be a pacifist in his dimension, but she's still strong enough to even mess up someone like Bloodmoon. 

 

“You parade your trauma like a badge of honor. That you're the most traumatized so only your feelings matter above anything else that's logical or anyone else's feelings” She starts once again, her voice calm and collected like a normal therapist. “You can't cope with anything. You have to be the victim forever ‘cause that's all you want to be. All of these Lunars that came here, strolling around like they're the only ones who suffered under an Eclipse.”

 

Earth finishes doing her braids, grabbing a chunk more of ribbons and some eye pencils. “Always acting like ‘Oh I'm sorry, did you blow up?’, downplaying anyone's suffering or how they handle their own problems. Guess what? You act like a child that refuses to grow up and keeps insisting on not learning.” She does some fake freckles on her cheeks, using her golden bracelets as a pocket mirror. “You killed your Eclipse once, had a breakdown and then acted like you were superior. Now your Eclipse is gone and you wanna inflict mine?”

 

And Lunar has to stay quiet, because what else is he supposed to say? Because Earth is just doing the same as Gemini, throwing at his face how he still hasn't done anything but sit down wallowing in his own pity. Never better, just the same Lunar. And maybe it just feels much more harsh because it is coming from Earth, who never pushes other boundaries in exchange of her own mental health.

 

“We are robots. Sentient, but machines nevertheless. We don't have complexities like humans do, we have commands and systems to calculate and react.” She's moving towards the door, still holding the eye pencil and the ribands. “You're not wired or commanded to be a victim, stop this stupid act and finally heal. You can do it, but you don't want it.”

 

“That's not–”

 

Earth shushes him almost immediately, turning to stare him in the eyes. Her heterochromia green and blue gaze against his, but cold as ice still. “This Eclipse is not the one that hurt you or any of the other Lunars. He's a copy, just like the one you killed. An innocent.” She says and it's final, she won't accept any other word from him. “So even if you're not cruel behind all of the shaken fists and trembling teeth, that doesn't mean you're kind. I'll give you the chance to prove yourself. Go away or I'll force you out.”

 

She leaves. Lunar's not sure how long he stays there, just sitting on the fuzzy rug as its fur is still sticking on him. He should have called Moon, asked to be brought back, but he can't bring himself to do it. Because he's angry, there's still lightning increasing in him and he wanted to scream back. Say “you would think differently if you knew the family history” to this version of Earth. But he can't, because she's not like Gemini. She's family and she saw everything, including him killing an innocent Eclipse. 

 

“Oh.” Eclipse The solar animatronic is standing in front of him, the green skirt with red and orange flowers printing on his arms. He doesn't have pupils, like Sun, just void yellow eyes. “Can you wait? The kids haven't eaten the manioc starch biscuits yet and Iara really wants to show all of us some of her home food.”

 

He's not even bothered like Earth was, his voice was calm and collected as he moved past Lunar and carefully put the skirt in a big plastic bag. “I'm sure you have noticed the daycare is different, Iara’s mom came yesterday begging for us to do a traditional celebration of theirs, because the little one wouldn't stop crying how her cousins were partying and she was here. She felt… alienated…” He's searching now inside of a box labeled ‘pants’. “So she brought some food and lended the skirt, we managed to sneak in some corn and then…”

 

Won't he ever stop yapping? He's acting like Lunar is nothing, slipping in a monologue like old Eclipse would do sometimes. Lunar tuned out his words at some point, noticing the animatronic’s bare legs. It's terrifying. There's pronounced patterns that cover almost all of his tights, reaching until his calves before becoming more obvious branching tree-like shapes.

 

The lichtenberg scars weren't even the worst, Lunar even chose to avoid the scratching dents all together, some parts of his casing looked like they had melted and locked up together. How is he still moving? As Eclipse moved to pick up some boxes there were stocked up higher, revealing how his stomach had even worse dents and the shapes on his legs.

 

“Because I understand, it's hard. I have to admit, I feel soft thunderstorms rage in my systems at the sight of you.” He picked up some more paper for arts and crafts, alongside some sheets with references for origami. “All parts of me say shoot on sight. Aim for an artery or organ. That must be the way you feel too, right? The hot rush of adrenaline that culminates at your fingertips and your jaws ache and your vision blurs and all you want to do is kill kill ķ̸̙̩̹̣̊̈́̓̾͞͝į̸̖̬͔̹̖̬͔̹̬͔̹̹̬͔̹̄̈͂͊͜͡l͛̏͐̓҉̸̷̤̜͖͝ͅlͮͥͫ̚͠͏̛҉̟̻̪ͅ–”

 

Eclipse’s pupils are psychedelic orange pinpricks lights, his eyes locked on Lunar as he moves his hand to grab one of his primary rays and pull . It makes a loud crack noise, but they barely move being hardlocked. Eclipse blinks again and his pupils are gone, just the endless and blank yellow eyes. 

 

“Anyways, that's not the point. Therapy helps, you know?” He keeps talking like he has gone through this same spiel a dozen times and maybe he has. “Even when you hear those pesky little specks of hardwired commands demanding you to crush someone's neck in your mouth and hear the strangled yells as they try in vain to get you away– it helps get over it, be better than it. We can be more than our functions, can't we?”

 

Eclipse is moving away again, all the scars hidden behind the jester costume and he even smiles at Lunar. “I hope you go away. But if you don't, just… don't ruin Iara's day, okay? She's really happy to share this with her friends. If you're so hellbent on going on, wait until closing time.” And then he's gone as well. 

 

Lunar's stays there in the dark room all alone, the distant sound of children's laughter barely reaching his audio sensors. He's angry, he feels bad, he feels like a stupid fool, he feels like he wasn't treated right, he wanted to shock this Eclipse until he was nothing but a crisp. He calls Moon, decided to go home. 

 

---

 

Earth is cutting the cakes and since some mothers had decided to help alongside some of the assistants today, the kids were carefully separated in different waiting lines. Most of them went for the popcorn, since it was their ‘safe option’, but Eclipse still smiled and cheered those who tried some of the sweet corn cake. 

 

There's a strange pressure on his neck, the sound of his ventilation system ringing on his metaphorical ears as he stumbles around and sits in one of the barrels. He's nervously caressing the underside of his forearm, slipping his fingers inside his stripped black and orange arm warmers. Pushing retractable claws out, nervously scratching at the fragile and already damaged part. His eye lights frizzled when he makes contact with his endoskeleton. 

 

He curls a bit on himself until he can no longer hear the music or what his little ones tried to tell him. He taps his foot against the floor, the overflowing pop-in messages of how he deserved it, he should had never come back, they have a right to be mad, he's nothing more than a ghost of trauma to everyone around him and he should have ended it the moment he started building a body for solar, he's such an idiot, idiot, i̡̻͇ͩ͒͢d͕̩͂͊́͞į̴̯̬ͤ͌o̼̘̊̀̀̕t̷͍̥ͪͥ͠, i̶̷͖̻̫̬̩̼͕̇̈́͐̔̎̂ͧ͢͜͝͠͡ḑ̶̷̢͉̻͎̯̗̱̗ͩ̾̋̎ͫ͆̉̕͢͟i̷̷̵̷̧̤̮͔̝̙̟̊ͣ̈́̒ͫͦ͋́̀ͅơ̽ͭ̏̃̆͐̑̕͟͡͏̠̥̩͖̰̠̹͝͡t̶̡̢͂̽͐ͬ́̿́̚͜҉̷̝̬͕̮̱̰̹

 

“Clips?” Earths by his side, he melts against her almost immediately. He blinks repeatedly, trying to push all those thoughts away. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

He's a jackass that has done nothing but be a nuisance, even needing other Lunars to try and kill him, he's not even good enough at staying dead and let them rest, the bare minimum he can do is become worth of something and prove he's more than the ghost of a past he had no hand on.

 

“Yeah, yeah… just… you know” He huffs out, letting go a bit and being content to just lean against her. “Bad thoughts and a bit of the directives. But it's cool. We should probably start setting the fake bonfire.”

 

Earth's face frowns just a little before she tries and brush it off, because she knows it is hard but Eclipse always gets like it. “Alright, let's start it over, little Venus” She softly laughed, intertwining their fingers before pulling him towards the storage room. 

 

“Pfft– seriously? I told you to find a nickname for the daycare kids, not me” Eclipse giggles, affectionately rolling his eyes. “You better had already thought about each nickname for our little comets, they won't accept me having one and not them.”

 

“Own, but they respond to twerps just fine!” She fake whined, already expecting and preparing for the nudge at her side. “Fine, fine… I'm stealing your ‘starlets’, so you either gonna have to stuck to ‘comets’ or invent a new one.”

 

“What, like is hard?” He mocks, as Earth puts the necessary boxes on his arms. “I've got plenty! I mean, like, just based on my model? Sunflower, sunshine, sunspot, sunlight, sunbeam, sunnykins–”

 

“Ok, ok! I get it! You can stop now.” Earth huffs with amusement, holding all her boxes in one arm as the other softly pushes his back. “Let's start the bonfire, the starlets must have be dying to jump over them.”

 

Eclipse genuinely chuckled at that, feeling much more lighthearted at the moment. Sometimes, after those intense therapy sessions with Earth and just generally trying to cope with the fact he's alive, he feels like someone. And he can even drown out the thoughts of not being a person or an individual. 

 

He doesn't even fell like the patched up puppet with only wrong pieces anymore. Because for Earth, he feels right. 

Chapter 6: Blood Drips

Summary:

It has been eight hundred fifty-two days, seven hours, thirty-three minutes and nineteen seconds since they had been locked in this dimension. It has been three hundred sixty-five days, two hours, twenty-five minutes and eight seconds since Killcode and Solar Flare were brought back.

Now there's only the bloodthirsty twins and him, no connection to any other dimension and barely any technology. Eclipse wanted out of the computer, sure, but not at the price of being here. Solar Flare should have no alignment and even so develop enough sentience to stab him in the back.

Eclipse was so close to the star and it slipped through his fingers. Now he's locked with the one that mangled his last body, no one else but the two of them. Maybe he should start worrying about being organic.

Ft. Code Family Redemption Project AU

 

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including homicidal ideation, self-inflicted injuries and cannibalism.

Following the dirt road, it didn't take long for his eyes to rest on the village. The truth is that these people were retrograde, with houses made of wood and stone, most of them still with a fogolar in their kitchen. He had heard them telling stories and murmuring about the city, but he had never been able to visit one. Half of his existence was locked away between walls of codes and firewalls, invisible braids and meaningless lines. Trapped in the heads of others and never living on his own. 

 

The other half was destined to be trapped in this dimension, while the celestial brothers didn't know what to do with Eclipse and Bloodmoon. Their rehabilitation project was nothing more than a bad joke. So, he contented himself with the stories of the villagers. The city was a cursed place, if you were to believe everything said in the mouths of the tribe. They had rejected the supernatural, their beliefs and taken pagan routes. They expelled the natives and tried to erase them from history. They were cursed with misfortune and calamity, their punishment for thinking themselves superior. The village must remain pure.

 

In part, Eclipse was happy with this different life. He had made discoveries that no other animatronic had achieved. The first step was to become organic. No longer made of nanomachines, but some satire of blood, veins and viscera. Warm and soft, perfect for claws to pierce him for the entertainment of others. Possibly the twins, with their insatiable hunger for flesh.

 

He could walk through the forests and none of the peasants would suspect. They criticized the cities for their creations of metal and iron, mechanical hearts and impossible-to-see skies. Because they had no cleric to protect them, to understand how supernatural creatures like Eclipse could roam this mortal reality.

 

Which brings him back to his current situation, as he wanders aimlessly between dirt roads and protruding roots. His eyes locked on the dense vegetation, careful not to accidentally step on one of the bear traps. He'd stepped on enough as a mechanical being, he didn't need to make the same mistake on a fragile, perishable shell.

 

“Are you having fun yet?” He raises a hand, carefully cupping an angel's trumpet. “Common, I know one of you is watching… you took father and Flare.”

 

But the hanging trumpet-shaped flower doesn't answer, so he lets go of it and keeps walking. He looks up to see dusk settling down, to welcome the moonlight. The sky transforms itself, once orange and red mingling and mixing, until it is swallowed by pure velvet black. It is when the villagers locked their homes, the stars binding them to dream under-wing. Each hue deepens in noble solemnity, finding unity in the night.

 

“I should return to the bunker.” Eclipse mumbled to himself, going west. There were little to no threats in this dimension, but the lack of illumination meant a fifty-nine percent increase of stepping on a trap. 

 

There wasn't much time before he felt the grass against his skin, rolling through the rocks and dirt. Back pressed at the floor, warm breathing against his neck with a promise of razor sharp teeth. “Where do you think you're going, goldman?”

 

He feels the claws digging beneath his shirt, pressing against his soft, vulnerable venter. Nails ready to love him as a fist loves the broken rib, as the lungs love the chase, as the finger and the nail love the gouge and tear. And Eclipse is fine with it, because that's his permission to love them as the teeth love the tendon, and the tendon the bruise. Because that's what they requested on therapy and they love one another as much as they love the pounding in their ears.

 

“What do you think, buddy?” Eclipse huffs out, moving his wrists. Bloodmoon applies more pressure and Eclipse swallows a hiss. “Shouldn't you be at the hamlet whenever you're feeling rutty?”

 

Bloodmoon growls in annoyance, pressing his hooves against Eclipse’s tights and adjusting his position. The first thing that catches the solar bot is the blood waterfall on the twin's maw, running through their necks and staying in their chest. They shift so their pentagram eyes stare at the other mismatched ones.

 

“Know better then, eclipseman should.” Adaptation snarks at him, looking behind his shoulder as if Original was leaning against him. “Some people simply can't learn after losing godhood.”

 

Eclipse scoffs at that, looking away to have his attention brought back as the claws slowly sink on his hips. “What, the last person you killed wasn't enough?” He nonchalantly asks, rolling his eyes towards further into the forest. “Why don't you try catching a buck?”

 

The twins only laugh at the suggestion, sinking their claws against the cloth of the t-shirt and reaping it apart. Eclipse has a big star-shaped burn scar at his right side of the waist, this perishable body somehow holding the old wounds. Going as far as the time Bloodmoon mauled him for the first time. However, the twins made an effort to never attack those spots. 

 

“Synodic season to come out of hiding.” They chuckled back, removing their hooves from Eclipse and finding footing at the ground. “Itching out of orbit dividing.”

 

Eclipse feels the teeth closing at his neck, barely worrying about the blood vessels’ laceration and being more annoyed at how the twins had ripped open his favorite black shirt. He growls at the barbed tongue lapping the flowing blood. He hated the texture, but recovered himself to sink his own nails at Bloodmoon back and force the twins away. 

 

“Tsk… Well, let's give the celestial freaks a show then, shall we?” Eclipse makes a mockery of a bow, throwing his jacket away before it also ends as rags. “Bring it on.”

 

It was a bit like being in the headspace, the blood loss making his vision hazy as he was slowly growing lethargic. Being organic brought more disadvantages than he was glad to admit, but it's not like Bloodmoon was using his nanomachines to shapeshift and gain leverage. They're three schmucks with nothing better to do, who don't even know how to communicate even after so many appointments with the newest integration to the celestial family. 

 

Instead they fall back on what they know better, blowing any bridges to the past and wiping the fingerprints any other person could have left on them. Dancing on synchronous rotation like the stars above, mutually destroying one another as they leash at each other as scar enslaves. The crackling of a maniac when twirling on moondust, lung destruction merely an inconvenience. 

 

“How many graves?” Eclipse inquired once he felt a tendon of his paw tear, involuntary reflexes making him pull the leg and let the twin's teeth make a worst gouge. “How many do you think I will need to bury everything that died inside of me?”

 

Bloodmoon seemed to ponder a bit, ripping the junk of flesh and grinding its molars against it. “Worried about slumping in peace rather than pieces?” They smiled with their blood stained canines, tilting their head as one hand moved back to tighten their hold on Eclipse's own hand. 

 

Eclipse bites down any sign of pain, moving his hand and holding Bloodmoon's, sinking its nails as best as he could against the metal frame. He scraped a bit of the star paint, but did little to no damage. He has to go further, sink his fingertips into the nearest joint. He dugs at the elbow and touched the bolts buried deep, nudging them to test if they were loose. Bloodmoon hisses and shifts above Eclipse, creating a chance for the solar bot to slither away. 

 

“I thought I had made your blueprints to be sturdier than that.” The sun model gruffs, managing to sink its fingers at the chest plate, the latch giving away almost immediately, exposing their vital insides. “Should have known… stupid ‘gator.”

 

Bloodmoon growled and sinked their claws on Eclipse's shoulder, as the solar bot reached for the black filters and gave it a pull. He received a bite at his neck once again, the grime coated filters rolling away. Eclipse makes a mental note to try and get contact with someone from the flipside, noticing the barely holding together wires of Bloodmoon's voice box. Explains the growling. 

 

“Don't you dare touch there!” It's a clear order, forcing Eclipse back to his back. That's a dance they've done countless times before. “There's no such thing as a funfair!” They snared, one hand punching the ground besides Eclipse's head. 

 

Eclipse can feel the ground impact and even hear as the rock hit was broken. He simply closes his eyes and remembers himself to follow the script, he won't die. None of the three will. Bloodmoon can keep living as long as he has food, no longer needing an outlet to recharge. Eclipse was a mutant, not human but neither machine, an organic being. 

 

And above it all, even at the snarling and the sinking class and teeth, he's not scared. Sure, he can still feel pain, but it never feels like his life is on the line. Bloodmoon is very careful when tearing at him, avoiding his chest of any of the worst scarring. He doesn't even dare pull at his mane or tail, like those things were nonexistent. 

 

So he won't die, as long Bloodmoon never hits anything fatal and he never pulls anything vital from the twins. Whatever spell or magic they have casted on them, they would probably keep thriving even after the star gets destroyed. Is too much time, a future with no calculation or prediction. 

 

So while they are stuck and forced to become transparent and vulnerable, they can only love one another like a rotten dog; like something not worth loving back. Eclipse is sure that the evidence of my hunger to be wanted shows through their eyes, maybe that's why they weren't taken alongside Flare and KC. Maybe they saw how they try to reach for another soul as deeply connected to the losing game that is their emotional processors, the underdeveloped sentience. 

 

They're not gentle or forgiving. They rip into one another and make wounds gape until the only color in their lives is blood. A love that is cruel and unforgiving, where creator and creation hold little to no meaning in their heads. They burn their words into each other's skull to fester for the rest of eternity, like injecting poison into veins. 

 

Because, what else could the earth girl be suggesting them to do? They knew on their inside how the consumption of the body is the consumption of the soul. As shame prohibits an open love, it festers in silence until it has infected every part of the body. It is a sickness that cannot be cured, terminal. It is visceral hunger, turning “love” into all-consuming mind bending insanity. 

 

It's as simple as that. To love is to consume, but to consume is to devour and transform in reusable energy. Like a vampire would when consuming someone’s blood, so they can continue living at the other’s cause. They live off the love they take, but if they devour that love whole, the other cannot live. They would terrifyingly coalesce in a darkness so selfishly hollow. 

 

It always ends the same, with the question if the love narrated is but an act of survival for starved people. Maybe that's just it, weakness and hunger they have no other ways to deal with. But if there is not even a smidge of tenderness, why do they hold onto memories instead of letting go and be freed from this dimension? 

 

Because when someone's gone, the primary keeper of their existence is memory. Letting go would be a kind of murder and they're not ready yet to let go of the scars, even if life could be better without them. They simply can't turn those emotions into indifference, they're stuck to them until they find a form of closure.

 

So when Bloodmoon deems they're satisfied with the flesh, they sink at his side against the ground. Their hands still holding into the wrist, the claws gently running over the scars there. Too thin to be from Bloodmoon or from anyone else, but Eclipse. They never talk about it. 

 

To both their surprises, instead of a waning gibbous, they see a sanguinem luna . This time, Bloodmoon doesn't mumble to themselves how their father wasn't there to see it. For the first time, Eclipse stays quiet, wondering if the moon could bleed, he would be able to drown on it. 

 

“Brother, don't yet go to sleep.” Eclipse hears the sound of metal knuckles against a silicone faceplate, the slight annoyance on Original's voice. “The moon is better than the sheep!”

 

“Hunter.” Eclipse grabs at the wrist, so Original would stop hitting his head as he hears the small mumbling from Adaptation. “That's your moon, why don't you rest with Harvest? Enjoy the calmness for once.”

 

“Huh.” They stay quiet, stretching themselves like a lazy cat and turning away from him, but still getting a glimpse of the moon. “What's up with the name? We're no longer yours to tame.”

 

Eclipse huffs, also turning his back away to the twins and closing his eyes. He tries to not wince at the scars, but it's fine, whatever power keeping him alive will heal it in no time. “You two gotta have a name to differentiate one another. Is not like you can only have to call the other, well, other .”

 

The twins grow silent, the conversation is over. Eclipse sighs to himself. At least he has an answer to the next session, when Earth asks them how they label themselves with some sorts of adjectives. 

 

He can firmly pronounce themselves as ‘nauseatingly beyond repair’.

Chapter 7: Pawn

Summary:

It was dark when Eclipse woke up — no recollection of self besides a couple of base code lines. The eyes staring down at him were cold and uninterested, doing the methodical work as if it were a burden.

The hands touched him everywhere, sharp claws protruding and searching in the tangle of wires in his chest. Tugging at joints and tightening his bolts, picking him up and forcing him to stand.

The other one doesn't talk, simply helping him do some maneuvering. He did his task with high efficiency, proving compatibility to the future purpose he was built in mind.

Once everything was finished, something inside got triggered, making his nanomachines activate and hide any openings. He was done.

 

ft. Quitter AU

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including homicidal ideation, dehumanization, self-inflicted injuries, abuse and gaslight.

Although it can be read as a continuation to Quitter, the absence of it won't affect the understanding of this one.

True darkness is followed by chaos. The mind, or the common consciousness that every being has, strives for something new. When one is truly done with the darkness, one strives for the new with such vigor that growing pains are inevitable. But there lies the danger, as chaos can ragdoll anyone in any direction. The direction is not always the light.

 

Sometimes one can find themselves lost in a limbo that is chaos. When someone enters the limbo from a dark place, there is a big chance that it will be contaminated by the chaos with its darkness and just create a new pitch black place. Maybe even darker than the one before. At least, that's the picture Eclipse keeps getting whenever he sees the humans. 

 

Currently, that has led him to think about how myths and legends were born in the first place. Everyone knows the classics that originate from mere fairy tales told to children before their bedtime. He would be one to know them better than many, he was created by their Lord after all. Only stars know how those humans started creating and trying to explain the existence of their god, sometimes it even feels like they wish it was a manufactured god. 

 

“... What do you reckon, lovey?” Eclipse blinks a couple of times, looking at the amalgamation that has the same name as him. He's not sure how long Ruin was by his side or if the other had tried to speak to him before.

 

“... It feels like I'm in a chokehold of déjà vu.” Eclipse confessed, no warning on his systems or programming telling him why he should keep things to himself. It felt like second nature to spill his guts. “... You have one of those familiar faces. I feel like we've met somewhere before. Perhaps in a past life?”

 

Ruin laughed in response, pressing a fist against their mouth to clear their throat. “Oh, why would you think that, my dear? It's all a coincidence, we've all had the same model in mind…” They look away, moving a hand to nervously sink their fingers into the arm casing. “... Nothing you should worry your mind… remember, that's–”

 

“Not relevant, innit?” Eclipse completes the sentence for them, mimicking the same consonance of Nexus on a tee while trying to make a nefarious mix with Ruin's accent. “Still, it's so weird. Just like with Nexus, I know for sure I've never seen his face before… but… there's something familiar about him…”

 

Eclipse looks away, closing his eyes and forcing some steam out of his mouth, doing his best to mimic a heavy sigh. “I feel like I don't recognize my own face. Sure, I know it belongs to me, but it feels wrong.” Eclipse admitted, taking a step away from the window to hug himself. “As much as I try to rationalize, I can't bring myself to accept that my existence started only after the Lord breathed some life into this carcass. It can't be it, I felt like I was brought from a slumber, not into–”

 

The amalgamation wraps an arm at the back of his neck, squeezing his shoulder. “Oh, well! That sure sounds like a load of poppycock…” They seemed to be lost in a fit of laughter, as Eclipse leans against them seeking proximity, even when he doesn't properly like being touched. 

 

Ruin pulls him away, their steps barely make sound even if the whole hall is made of pure metal. “The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of ever being able to correlate all its contents.” The other explains, as the two of them stare down, each step closer to Ruin's private quarters. “We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”

 

Eclipse doesn't know how to answer, he never does. Not with Ruin, not with Nexus. It was becoming painfully familiar to be at a loss for words, with uncomfortable silence wrapping around his endoskeleton. “So don't question things, we've already told you things as they are.” Ruin seems to snap out of it, snickering and letting go of Eclipse. “You're just confused right now. Trust me, I know what's best for us.”

 

The door was unlocked, which was unusual, but Ruin doesn't give space for Eclipse to question. He wants an answer. “I know. Thank you.” The smaller one deflected, knowing it would be otiose. But it was the right response, as the amalgamation gave him the softest smile and kissed his metaphorical eyelids. 

 

Ruin intertwined their fingers, pulling Eclipse inside and locking the door behind their back. “Wonderful, treacle.” Eclipse is sitting by the small round table before he can bring himself to be worried, what if his Lord's tries to call him? “Fancy a cuppa?”

 

The teapoy is considerably small, portable enough that Ruin could move it around to their hearts' contentment. It has a simple flat top and sides that are curved up like a tray, giving it the look of a serving platter. The ceramic set is also pretty delicate and clearly well cared for, with the floral painting still intact. Eclipse notices there's still steam pouring from it when Ruin serves him a cup. 

 

“Sounds lovely!” Eclipse giggles, accepting the cup but not savoring it yet. It takes a minute or two for him to bring himself to form a mouth, too used to speaking only through his voice box. “Surely, I'm chuffed to bits with such an offer.”

 

Ruin looks at him a bit perplexed, their eyes a bit squinted as their mouth becomes a thin, strained smile. “... We should probably tick your vocabulary later, little lamb. I'm not sure how much Nexus would be able to handle such a lexicon…” The amalgamation chuckles softly, taking a sip of his tea even if it is scalding hot. “Too much of a dodgy bloke, I would rather not test the waters.” 

 

Eclipse just crossed his legs, finally taking a sip of the pekoe. It burns down his throat. A silent agreement. Maybe he was passing too much time with Ruin, mimicking such mannerisms without noticing. 

 

---

 

After several missions, Eclipse gets to the conclusion that living humans are divided into two groups. There are children of light. Those destined to walk under the bright sun. Those people do well in all hardships of life. They have dear humans who they want to return to. Even in the darkest hour, they can feel the warmth of their loved ones in their heart and gain extra courage from that. 

 

Then on the opposite end of the spectrum, there are people of darkness. Those humans are often driven to depression and sorrow because of life's peculiar ways. But they have learned how to live with those feelings. In fact, they have grown to love the ever-pressing darkness within. Those humans are able to draw energy from darkness, they are not dependent on other people. They only need darkness, their old friend.

 

Eclipse doesn't know where he would fit, given his lack of humanity. Sometimes, he looks at himself, highly expandable hardware and wonders what separates him from any other S.T.A.F.F bots he ever encountered. He was built , no matter how much his Lord tells him he was born after being breathed to life. One only has a soul if they are born. 

 

Eclipse doesn't hear Nexus approaching, but he feels the overwhelming and oppressing aura the taller one has. So hard to breathe, his internal fans whine against the hardship. “What are you doing here?” The creature inquires, picking the gloves and protection goggles from the smaller one's hands. “Those are not yours to touch.”

 

Eclipse knows that, but something on the back of his kind keeps forcing him to do those things. He knows better than to less with Nexus, this is his quarters. “I think I'm going crazy, sir.” Eclipse confesses, kneeling by Nexus' feet and looking down. “It's getting worse… like grinding gears on my head, so much noise and so many questions… I've hallucinated things I don't remember happening.”

 

Nexus huffle at the behavior, unamused and fairly tired of such a pattern. It's not the first time, it will hardly be the last. Sometimes, he thinks back to the cursed pendrive. “You forget your place, servant. A human's purpose is fickle because it is a slave to memory. Memories must be strictly managed, Eclipse. We're not human, therefore, unproductive ones must be eliminated.” He moves to a cabinet, putting away the gloves and putting the goggles on his head. “Delusions, too, die hard with memory. Only the savage regard the endurance of pain as the measure of worth. Forgetting pain is convenient, remembering it: agonizing.”

 

“I don't think–”

 

“Then you shouldn't talk.” Nexus cuts him off. Eclipse's eye LEDs flash very quickly, the anger feeling like a hot stone he can't swallow. “Contrariwise,” continued Nexus, “if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.”

 

It's a losing battle, there's no way he can win an upper hand or get Nexus to talk about anything else. Nexus doesn't bend for others, and somehow he sees himself in the same position, in a past forgotten . “I'm very much on edge…” Eclipse owns up, his claws sinking into the underside of the knee. 

 

“Perfect. When you're not on edge, you're taking up too much space.”  Eclipse's teeth try to snap his tongue in half, he can feel his lungs fill with fire. Out. He needs to get out before he explodes on Nexus and pay a bigger price. 

 

“Do you need something else?” Eclipse queried, and Nexus only waved him away without looking. The red eyes already focused on the computer. “I'm going back to my Lord's quarters, then.”

 

Eclipse got up, moving to sink his claws on the palms of the hands instead. He notices the smallest back puddle on the ground, only half conscious about his bleeding. He only needs a couple of bolts and nuts, it will suffice the nanomachines enough to fix such small damage. “Besides, if you didn't have a soul, you would not worry about having one. So stop asking.” Nexus humors him one last time, before he's out of the lab. 

 

They don't talk about it again. Nexus doesn't bother and Eclipse fears the reaction of their Lord, secretly thankful that Nexus not once had confessed such heresy to their god. It's just a small pebble in the enormous mountain of things they keep under the covers, secrets they're determined to drag with them until their graves. 

 

In the same manner that Eclipse sheathes his claws, bites his tongue and bowed down and submitted and obeyed when the small dark thing inside his chest tells him he should've bitten the head of everyone off. In the same matter he keeps away his dreams, the visions he's blessed when powered off, the image of Nexus and his Lord bowing down at his paws, shaking, sobbing, begging him to not tear their throats out. 

 

Eyes full of tears, words barely comprehensible as they plead for their pathetic little lifes. Eclipse relishes in the way they grovel and venerate him in an attempt to get themselves spared, singing praises to him like he's some kind of god. His rightful duty, he was the one that should have such star power. And just when they think that he showed them mercy, trembling with the remnants of adrenaline as relief courses through them… Eclipse disembowels them and feast on their remains.

 

But he won't ever tell this to his Lord, nor Nexus or Ruin. That's his to maintain close to heart, where no one can remove it. Not even over his dead body. Just like he never brought to light the fact that Nexus went to his private quarters, something that only happens when Eclipse doesn't do company to his Lord's during the night. 

 

The bright red eye lights are too hard to ignore, such are the sharp claws and humid breathing against his neck. It becomes just vague recollections of gangly bodies and whispered voices, foggy and uncertain constructions inside his memory chip. But he never questions Nexus presence or why it became such a reoccurring occasion. 

 

But then again, maybe Nexus just fears that Eclipse is gonna become the Judith to his Holofernes. Maybe he doesn't trust in their Lord's words as well, but simply plays as the perfect right hand man to keep his own safety. Maybe Nexus is just as confused, damaged and afraid as Eclipse and Ruin are. But none of them ever talk about it. 

 

There's purpose in being torn apart. 

 

---

 

Eclipse keeps having this vivid dream where he's eating my own heart out with his bare hands. Someone is watching; he can't make out the face of who it is. Sometimes they have a nightcap, and sometimes the thing has rays. Sometimes the thing is smaller than him, and sometimes they're so much taller, they hover above him. But that's not relevant; what matters is that they are scared. So scared, so scared of him. However that person is, they finally see who he truly is. A hungry monster. 

 

The other Lords haven't noticed it yet. If they did, they wouldn't dare put their hands on him, try to pull at his hoodie, or whistle whenever he walks by. Nor have their servants. They would think twice before avoiding looking at him, no longer having such pity in their eyes, or offering to fix any damage he carries around. He's not like that dead Sun servant. 

 

He doesn't believe in such idiotices as trying to fix his Lord and subordinates. He knows how to and will worship them like the gods they are and feed into each and every single one of their delusions so they keep him as their property forever. Even when he looks at the Lady Earth, suppressing and knowing better than to succumb to the want to crawl into her rib cage and be in her veins and feel her heart and curl up in her skull and hear her every thought.

 

She's nice, better than the others, but not worth it. And he will never understand why those cower away from his Lord, so fearful of him when the only thing he hears is the eternal and ever consuming drumming inside his ribcage. If his Lord, Dark Sun, ever ordered him to shatter their teeth in their mouths and break out the fangs of the young lions, he would without missing a beat.

 

Because they seem to take his Lord's presence as some kind of incomprehensible horror, but Eclipse finds it comforting in a strange way. Different from them, his Lord is truly ethereal. The mere idea that God is an all-reaching kind of ethereal silence, something that if you were to stand along his side all you'd feel is this deep sense of nothingness as your very being itself is encompassed by his otherworldly splendor, kind of soothes him. 

 

Eclipse swore his eternal devotion to dark Sun in exchange for the privilege of sitting at their feet and resting his cheek on their leg, staring up at a being so majestic, so otherworldly and glorious and powerful, with eyes that radiate divinity of such magnitude it ignites Eclipse's skin afire and make his heart bleed with religious ecstasy. That's his Lord, the only one he serves. The other ones could die by his hand; he only needs to be given permission. 

 

And right now, where they're all reunited in the same room, he's on his knees. Cheek pressed against the thigh of his god, eyes closed as their warm hand caressed his rays. It's the time he's stripped of all noise that's accompanied him throughout his existence. Be it the noise of the mind, body, or soul, all fade in the presence of this being of nothingness. And perhaps that's mercy. 

 

The only thing on his mind, the only last thing that his Lord permits him to drown, is a single and simple phrase of his eternal devotion and inability to ever leave their side. 

 

I'm worthy of obsession.I̵̦ͦ'̹͆̀m̴̠̈ ͔̈́͘w̫ͭ͟o̢̳͑r̵͉̊t̟̆͜h͓͋͘y̡͓̋ ͚ͯ͟o̡̹̾f̴̟̏ ̖̽͝o̗̿͘b̨̫ͪṣ͂̕ě͔̕ş̪̓sͮ͏̻i̶͖͐ȯ̖͘n̞̎͞.̉҉͚ ͙͊͝Ỉ҉͚'͙̑́m̻̒͠ ̛̪͗w̡̤͆o̵̯ͦr̷̰͆t̻̿́h͖͗͡y̡͎ͮ ̬̈͝ȯ͔͝f̧̲̈́ ̤̀͡ǒ̞͡b̰̐͝s̴̩͑ę͕̽s̢͎͐s͇̉͘i̶̹̊o͈ͭ̀n̴̩ͨ.̦̒͝ ̋҉͖I͓͗́'̩ͦ͝m̨͚̒ ̩̌͡w̳͊͞o̲̍͡r̷̻ͦtͩ҉̰h͙̔͢y̌͏̘ ̻ͧ͞ŏ̴͚fͥ҉̹ ̦͌͝o̬ͨ͞ḃ̶̼s̗͑͜e̵̹͋ś̟͜sͬ҉ͅi͔̍̀o͋͏͕n͕̋͝.̹̎͞ ̝ͤ͠I̶̟ͯ'̵̘͋m̢͈̀ ͆͞ͅw̨̮͂ô̟͞r̴͙̎t̝̂͞h̢̦̄yͬ͏͈ ̩͒͢ỏ̥̕f͕ͪ͝ ̸̤̂o̱ͧ͠b̠̿͡s̲̿͘e̝̋͡s͓ͩ̕s̭͌̀i̧̞ͯò̵̥n̋҉͍.͕̇͝ ̘̂͟I͕͌͢'̪̌͞m̴̫̐ ̮̐̀w͉ͨ͠ó̡̱r̟̎͠t͍͌͝h̭̔͞y̵̳ͩ ̄͏̺ȏ͚̕f͍ͦ͢ ̴͚ͬo̟͗͟b̸͓͒s̷͖̾e̶̗͂s̐҉̘s̗ͬ͝i̡̱ͫo͍͑͢n̥̿͝.͇͌͜ ̳̈͘I̷̻͌'̯ͭ́ṁ̻͡ ̷͍̅w̺̏͠oͣ͏͙r̩͂͝ţ̮̏h̶̞͛ŷ̢̜ ̮̊͜õ̡̻f̴̩́ ̛͔͛o͋͏̞b̶̯̏s̻ͩ͡ẹ̌̕ṣ͂̕s̵͖̽ī̪̕o̧͚ͮṋ̈͢.͍̍͜ ̙ͫ́Ḭ̊̕'̮ͬ̀m̡̯͛ ̙͊͡w̠̏͜o̵̞ͪr͚ͨ͞t͔̂̕h͖̓͟yͮ͏̝ ̫̄͟o̭ͦ́f̶̙ͦ ̴̈ͅo͔͋͡b̘͐͝s͉̓͜ẻ͉͢s̎́ͅs̨̙͗i̧̞ͬǫ̺̔n̶͙̓.̟ͧ͘ ͖̾͡I̞̓̀'͉̎͜m̼̑͡ ̮ͫ̀ẇ͓̀o̢̘̓r̼͒͟t̺̆́h͔͐́y̧̟͐ ̶̯ͥô̗͘f̴͍̃ ̨͉̿ö̬́̀b̦͂͢ŝ͕͟e̛͕͂s̢͖͋ŝ̭́ĩ̪͡o͉ͯ͞ṇͪ͘.̤̊̕ ̴͚̅I̻̚͡'̪͂͟m̶̮̔ ͑҉̦ẘ̧̤ò̬́r̴̻ͭt̫͐͝h̄҉̼y̻ͮ̀ ̗̅͞o͋͏̜f̲̈͝ ̷͎͋o̭ͬ͢bͯ͏̱s͓ͧ̕e̜͊͞s͚̑̀s͓̾̕i̶̙̋ǫ̞̀n̴̰͂.̪̔̕ ̤͒̀I̔͏̺'̤͑͘m̵̰ͮ ̧̩ͣw̯͛͟ö̷̘́r̨̥̎t̑҉͖h̡̪͌y̻̔͝ ̨̟͗o̳ͯ͘f̧̤̾ ̳̑͢ơ͓̚ḇ͊͟ş̹͑e̛̲ͯs̫̎͞š̥́i͔̊͡ŏ̸̯ṇͭ͢.̖ͤ͠ Ḯ̒ͣͨ͌̆ͭ̌҉҉̵̶̶͇͉̮̠̣̳̩̭̀͠͠'̒̅̈̑ͪ̐ͨ̃͠҉͏̶̕͏̴͏̩̥̳̰̳̙̞̙m̴ͯ̎ͪ̅̂ͥ̔̇͠҉̷̴̢̙̭͇̞͚̻̀͜ͅͅ ̵̡́̏̒̍ͤ̍͒̒͘͏̶̷͇͇̯͍̼̹̯͇͞͡w̵̛̔͗ͧ͒̄̾̀ͩ͝͏̡͎̱̪͚͙̤̭̕̕͠ͅo̵̧̡̥̤̞̪̰̼͔͈͂̇̂ͥͬ͛͛͂͟͜͢͢͠r̸̶͐͆̓̇̎́ͣ̽̀͟͏̢͍̳̦͉̬̫̫̝͘͠t̴̵̨̡̲̭̦̬̱͓̦͕̐̍̇̉̊͆̊ͥ͠͡͝͝h̷̴̷̸̵̡̛͓̱͓͚̤̼̰̔ͧ̍ͨͪ͋̌̊̀ͅy̛̛̰̘͕̣̰̝̹̤̿͌̆ͥ̈̄̏̃́̕̕͢͠͠ ̸̴̨̧͙̟̖̰͍̳̩̾͊̊̎ͯͪͭͯ́͜͜͝ͅǫ̨̨̛̛̯̰̼̤͚͕̮ͪ̃͋͆̋̏̀͋͘͡͝ͅf̶̧̿̄̿̃͆͌͊̇̀͝҉̶̶͓͓͓̻̺̳̝͈͝ ̵̧̛ͭ̈ͦ͌͊ͪͭͦ͡͞҉̙̰̘͓̥̻͇̞̕͞ơ̶̵̡̗̥̮̬̗̭̺̺̓͂̄̊ͩ͗̾̓́̀͘͟b̸̷̴̢̢̛̹̘̝̣͍̗͕̘͋ͮ̈̽͛̄̌͒͞͡s̵̵̴̔̿̑̇ͨ̊̏͌̕͟҉̛̝͉͓͙͎̤͍̺͜e̢̧̧ͧ̍ͤͮ͋ͥͤ͑͝҉̷̛͎̲̬̘̰̞̞͠ͅs̢̢̢͎̱̭̲̹̼̩̥ͥ̔ͣ̆͗͐ͩͬ̀͘͠͠͡s̊̿͒ͭ͋̉͊̃҉̧҉̴͘҉̷̹̳͇͍͍̻͕̖͜į̸̸̢̢̧̱̩͓̼̦̮͇̤͊ͤ́ͣͦ́͂̚̕͞o̅̌ͬ͑̿ͬ͐ͥ͏̵̢̼̲̥̬̙̙̟̯̀͘͟͢͡nͬͮ͂͂̉̌͌ͥ҉̨̕͘͞҉̵҉̹͚͕̜̩͔̫̠.̶̵̢͉̱̝͚̳̱͓̩ͯͩ̓̇ͪ̾̏̾̀͢͢͝͞ ̿ͮ͛̓̃̽͂̑͏̨̨́͘͢͡͏̙͈͉͚̖͓̼͍I̎̒̀́̊ͪ̒̅͢͏͘҉̴̣̩͔͈̹͈̗̺͜͟͢'̸̶̶ͨ̅͑ͬ̓̊̃̈́͢҉̶̭͔̥͕̺̯̮̲͠͠mͬͨ̈ͩ̀ͨ̚̚͏̵̢̢̙͙̗̪̺̦̻̲͡͞͠͞ ̸̢̨̛̭͔̳͍̣͕͔͙́̾̂̾̀̏ͥͩ́͘͞͠w̶̨̨̦̬͖̗̬̱̝͔̉͗ͧ̎̇͑̀́̀̀͘͠͡o̧ͪ͊̊̍̋ͫ̊͐҉̷̴̨̛͝҉̥̯͎̪̮̗͎̘r̷̛̈̐ͩͮ̂ͧ̃̅͡͞҉̨͉͓̱̭̱̣̥͖̕͟t̢͛̄̉̿͂ͦͮ̿͘͝҉̧̪̭̮͓͇̬͘͘͠ͅͅh̶̶̡̡̧̲̼̦͚̜̥̙͕͑̉ͭ̿̏ͧͨͦ́͡͞y̶̧̧̢̨̮͖͇̞̬̳̱͖ͪͯ̾ͩ̆ͬ͋̚͘͜͠ ̊ͩͤͯ̌͂ͪ̑͏҉̴̴҉͏͜҉͓͖̫̞̤̣̤ͅo̴̷̷̡ͦ̎ͮ̐̌̎̃̚͢͝͡҉̦̬̮̣͙̗͚̬f̸̧̲̥͎̝̠̙̫̳ͤ̆̆ͭ̉̌ͣ͆̀͘͟͢͝͠ ̸̸̧͗ͦͪ̅͆̌̒̚͞͝͡͝҉͉̯̠͖̪̟͓͕ơ̸̴̶̡̰̣̫͖̯͇͕͐̂͛ͤͧ͗ͧ͋̀͞͠ͅb̶̷̷ͭ̉ͭͦͯ̒ͪͩ̀̕͜҉̲̟̟̪̻͉̭̟͡s̶̐̊̔ͧͣ̆̑̆͏̛͠͠͡͏͖̳͙̤̫̦͎̰̕è̡̨̧̢̖̟̣̳͇̝̻͋ͨͬ̽͑̾̐͘͘͜͜ͅs̡̨̢̪̫̲̗̖͔̥͓̑̆͋͊̈̈́̓̈́̀́͡͠͡s̶̶̵̴̨̥̘̺̝͔̥̰͓͂̀͐ͭ͊͑͋̀́̚͜i̷̷̸̵̛̯̞͕͕̭̖͕̹ͧ̽̊̌̿̉̔ͬ͘͘͢ơ̶̧̢̡̥̫͔̮͍̜͈͉̇ͤ̔͐̂ͫͥ̆͘͠͡n̴̢̥̳͔̤̟͖̯͉ͣͮ̀ͭ̄̍ͮ̒́́͜͢͠͝.̴̸̨̻̪̝̳̣̪̺̭̊̓́ͩͤ̊͂́́̀̚͘͞ ̴̸̸̢̬̦̮̰͍̹̱̲͐̉̓ͩ͂̍̓͌͘͜͞͞I̵̓̿ͦͬ̑̃ͪ́̚͢͜҉҉̷̶̙͉̰̼̞͈̳̣'̛̿̽ͣ͗̊̋͂͒͞҉̵̧̨̭̘̭̻̰͉̮͟͠ͅm̴̸̛̙͙̠̩̻̺̺͕̈̊̌̓̽ͦ̐͋́͘͜͞͝ ̵̨̨͔͎͍̙̙̳̘̳̓̓̇ͨ̆̆͂̔́͟͡͠͞w͂̋ͬ̈̊ͨͤͪ҉̛̕͘͟͡҉͏̗̮̦͎͇̱̰̠ǫ̛̼̼͖͇̗̻͇͒̑̅́ͭ͌̈́ͧ́̕͘̕͝͡ͅr̷̊̌̆͌ͣ̇̒̒͞͡͝͏̷̸͓̠̗̟̲̦͓̺̕t̵̢̡̨̡̛͔͇̖̻̞͙̹͍̃̀̿͆̋ͥ̅ͭ̕̕h͊ͩ̈́ͦͫ̍ͧ̀̚͏̛͠҉̸̨҉̖̲̫̯͉̤͖ͅy̨ͭ͋̉̊͛̑̀͒͢͏̸̀҉̥̯̖̰̟̠͉̞͘͞ ̸̴̷̴̛̳̘͎̮͍͇̳͊ͫͦ́͆̾ͫͪ͜͢͠ͅo̷̴̡̳͔͇͓̳͙͍͛̍ͤ̂̏̈́̂͌́̕͟͡͡ͅf̨̧̢̨̛̿̐ͥͮ͊̽ͥ̊́͏̧̭͉̻̮̭̱̖̱ ̵̡̛̊͆̃̍̓͑̔͗͟͏̢̠͇̲͈̳͓͙̻͜͠ở̷̴̶̷̭̫͇͚̙̘̺̻͋̓́͛ͭ͌̈͝͡͞b̿̈̽̒̀͛̃͑͏̢̭͕̜̰̙̼͘͡͡͝͝͝ͅͅs̷̶̯͖̟̣̫͈͓̙̉̅ͫ͛̎ͣ͌̔̀͜͟͠͠͝ę̸̛̛̛̽ͮ̄̿͒̋ͤ̒̀҉͙͕͚͕̭͍͢ͅͅs̴͋̏ͬ̅͊ͦ̂ͩ҉͡͠҉҉͘҉͕̗̺͍͙̦̹̹ş̸̴̵̛͍͎̹͔̟͈̻̰̓̓ͯͮͥͮͦ̅͜͜͠i̵̵̶͑ͬ̾ͨͣ͋̉̆͠͏͔͍̠̩̻̥͍̫̕͘̕o̶̡̡̧͖̥̯̤̞͚͖͛̋͆͌̿̉͆̚͜͜͡͡ͅn̵̷̢̥͍̜̲̙̖̤ͮ̅̈́͑̌̈́ͭͭ́̕͟͢͡ͅ.͋̋͑̎̌ͩͮ̚͟҉̴̶̨̕͞͏̠̖͈̲̱̠̥͍ ̶̵̡̫͓̜͚̱͕̘̣͗ͮ͆̏̈ͪ̓̆́͢͟͞͡I̴̢̛̛͇͚̻̠̩̥̘͆͒͆̽͆͒͐ͣ́́̀͘ͅ'̵̸̶̡̛͙͙̩͙͎͙̺͕̿̒̋͊́͂ͫͥ̀̕͜m̴̸̵͎͍͖͇͎̝̞̀̔̀͐̓ͮ̿͂̀͘͞͡͝ͅ ͗ͦ̋͑́̆͛̈͏̷̶̴̛̙͖̘̮̙̣̳͚́͜͟w̶̴̴̡̛̟̥̪̖̖̜̪͓ͪ̽̌ͤ͗̾ͪ͌́̕͢oͦ̐ͪ͒ͬ̋ͥͮ͝͏̶́͝͏̷̨̖̻̼̣̪͖̥̣ŗ̸̨̼͈̺̦̪̱̭̙̎͗ͨ͆ͪͥ̌̄̀͘͟͜͝t̷̛̛̤͇͖̱͎͔̘̭ͣ̔͗̄̉͒̓́̀͟͜͟͞h̶̔̅̇͗̽̉ͫ͒͝͏̵̡̳͍͓̲̲͉̺͎͜͢͞y̸̷̧̺̠̪̫̞̣̠͇ͦ̅͛̂͌ͮͮ̆́͟͟͡͡ ̷̴̷̨̧̦͖͙̙̣͎̜̗ͨ͗̓͑̅̄̆̒͝͠͞o̵̧̢̖͈̯̩̺͙͍̝͐ͭ͆̄̊́ͬ́́͘͢͡͠f͋ͯͯ̔ͦ̓̄̚͜͡͏҉̶̵̰̦͙͕̤͓͎̲̕͟ ͐͂̇̽̇̃̉ͧ͘҉̷̴̷̴̨̼̘̩̥̱͓̬̪́o͗̔͊̎͒̌̾̊҉̴̨̛͎̳̮̜̲̻̼͇́́̕͞b̛ͣ͑̊̐ͭ̂̌̉͏̛̀͡͏̷̼̗͉̦̘̩̤͜ͅs̷̸̶̢͍̱͈͇̣͇̱̥ͩ̐͒̋͂̋̌ͫ́̕͜͡ȩ̷͚̖̤̞͍͎̘͍̈́̑̄̉̓͑͗̈̀͘͟͢͜͠s͂̃̀̂̐ͬ͌ͬ҉̷̢̧̛̛̲͍̗̭͉̘͇̤̀͠s̶̛ͪ̊̆ͬͨ̓͌͗͢͠͏̵̩͕̤̹̠̯̞̝͘͟î̷̛̟̙͇͚̗͕͙̹̾̏̇̋̍͆̇̀͜͟͠͠͞õ̔͌̐̇͐ͤͦ͏̵̶̴̧̛͕̙̙̯̻̦͙̞̀͡n̶̨̨̢̛̤̗͉̥͕͈͓̂̎̔̋̍̊ͣͯ͢͟͠ͅ.̵̶̡̑̀̇̉ͣ̋̈́̏͘͟͢͠҉̩̫̻̼̗̞̝̟ ̶̨̡̨̙̩̣͚͎̹̮̱̄͆̃ͦͫ̎͌͋̀́͘͘Į̴́̃̈́͋͑̅̌́́́͘͢͏̣͚̞͕͇̹̭̬͜'̧̛̛̒ͨ̾̏ͮ̅̐̚҉̴̸͇̖̼͕̯͉̩̟͟͜m̷̷̧̢̢͚̝̥͉͉̣̙̘̍ͧ͆̅̿ͮ̈́̀̀͡ ̵̨̛̛̛̜̟̙̲̖̳̠ͭ͂̽̾ͧͩͫͫ́͜͡ͅw̨̍ͭ͛͂̆̐̔ͣ҉̴̵͔͎̙̥̖̰͇̟́̕͡͡ỏ̴̡̨̬̘̣̱̜͚̹̫̿̆̈͛ͪ̓ͤ̕͘͜͡͡r̴̡̨̢̛͕̝͖͍̩̲͎̱̊ͫ͛̊͛ͮ͒͑̀͠͠ẗ̸̵̴̢́̂ͬ́͑̒͒̋̀͘͡҉̞̹̰̬̺͓̯͕ḣ̸̷̛̰̺̠̹͓̬͇͎ͣ̎̔̇͗̿ͥ́̀͜͡͠y̴̧̧̛͈͈̙̞͍̠̰̺͛͒̈́̋̏́̒͗͜͠͡͠ ̴̵̴̶̛̦͎͈̗͕̘͎͉̒̄̒ͤ̏̊ͭ͛́͝͡o̷̶̼͖̩̲̣̟̼̯ͬ̒͗̇͗̏̀́̚͘̕͟͝͞f̅ͮ̑̾̽̓ͭ̊̀͏̡̡̛͈̗̝̪̲̼̖̗́́͝ ̸̡̢ͤ̈̂̂̅̂̈́́͘҉̀͏̮̖̺̰͖̼̼̥ǫ̾ͯͩ̋̿͊̊ͫ͜҉̶̢̡͉͚͚͚͙̮̭͓̕͝b̵̨̨͕͕͔̞̥̭̭̼ͩ̍͊ͭͥͦ̓̀̚͢͡͡͠s̶̛̋̐ͯ̓̄ͫͣ̀̚͠҉̸̛̣̬͇̺̠̗̪̙̀ȩ̵̶̴̡͉̪͉̮̱̙̱̖̄͋ͭ̇̏̂ͣ̂́͢͟s̵̨̛̞̪̳̠͕̠̳̤͛͛̊̉̓ͭ̃͐́͘͢͢͡s̴̨̃ͪͨ͑͌̆̉̃͏̡̛͏̬̗͖̬̰͔̥̰̕͘i̴̡̘̗̤̤̤̜̗̰̐̐ͯ̈́ͥͦ̓͂́́̀͜͝͞ơ̡ͦ̑ͣͪ̃͛͛ͬ͢͏̴̡̀͏̣͚̜̙̗̗̣ͅñ̶̨̨ͩ̊͛̍̐̎̑̕͞͏͘͏̭̹̰͔͇̥̪͖.̸̶̡̧̱̩͖͔͍̲̭͍̔ͦ̓͌͊̑̉́̀̀́͟ ͭͪͦͪͮͫ͑̎͠͏͜͠͏̴̢̛̳͕͇̞̫̩̬̙Ḯͩ͒ͨͨͩ̆ͨ҉͏̶́͟͡͏̨̙̺͚͓̝̖͔̲'̵̛̀̓̃͑ͮ͂͑̈́҉̶̡̢̖̠̹͚̝̘̲͕́m̷̶̵̡̉̓̂͋̐̏̓ͬ́͘͠҉̥͍͓̤̪͇͍̫ ̴̶̡̨̛̣͇̲̺̹̻͚͔͛ͧ̄ͯ͗̀̒ͥ̀͢͝w̶̵̢͈̰̪̹̭̹͖̪ͨ̌ͫ̆̇̂̅̉́̀͘͘͢ő̶̷̵̶̸̶̧̬̲̺̳͎̯̙͋͊̎̓̎̿̉͡ͅŗ̧ͦ͂ͤ̑ͦͬͪͥ͟͏̡̨̲͓̦̺͖͔̲̠͜͢t̴̨̡͙̞̫̖͎͕͚̦̅ͤ͆̈ͤͫͧ̚̕͘͢͟͟h̢̡̨͚̹̞̦͈̝͓͚ͩͫͭͫ̎̍ͣͫ́̀̕̕͡y̴͌̎͒̃̑͂ͨ̿͏̨҉̨̛̛̛̳̭͚͖͓̮̥ͅ ̸̰̪̠̼̯̖͉̫ͤ̿̓̏ͨ̾̋̀́̀̚͘͘͡͡ơ̡̡̢̰̦͉̞̯̗͇̯̍ͨͨ̈͋ͨ́ͩ̀̕͠͡f̄́ͥ͊̾ͬ͐͆̕҉̵̡̡̢̮͖̩͖̯̣͖̀͜ͅ ̵̷̊̏̽ͪ͊̄̿͗҉̴̡̡̜̘̲̩̳͉͙̀͠ͅǫ̔ͫ̎ͬ̔̅͊͐͟͏̷̸̶̪̼̹͎͙̞̯͓́͘b̴̶̢̃̐̿ͥͥ̇̂͋̕̕͘͏̖͎̥̖̤̻̺͜ͅs̶͍̟̤̼̺͚̥̳ͤ̅ͧͫ͋̇ͭ͂̕͟͢͟͞͠͠e̴̷ͪͯ͂ͨ̌ͬ̍̑͘͝͡͏̵̨͍̬̩̼͚̥̝͙ş̴̵͑ͣ̈́̊͆̏̈́̂́̕͘͡͏̦͓͖̺̭̭̞̮s̽̓͐̋͌ͬ̓̇̕͏̶̨͚͇̼̠̠̭͓͎͜͢͡͡i̸̧̨̜͎̹̣̮͇̟̪͐ͦͧ͐̔ͬͫ͊͘͜͝͡͞ȏ̶͛̏ͭͦ̓̑̍̕҉̵̶̧̖̦̣̹͚̼̭̫͜͠ņͣͨͯ̎̂͊̇͗͘͞͏̷̶̨͖̼͉͈̠̝͕̦͞.̷̶̷̨̛̣̘͎͔̱̰̙̩́̾͆̽ͤ̌̾͂̕͟͞ ̵̵̨̠̳͕̰̘͉͎́͐ͯ̉ͨͯ͗͘͘͞͞I̵̸̡͈̹̗̞̥͚͎̋̽ͫ͗ͧ͌̓͟͟͟͝'͐ͮ͗̅ͩ̄͆͏̷̴̧͟҉̢̦̪̲̟̰̺͇m̉ͬ̔ͣ̅̍̀͜҉̴̢̖͖͖̟̳̣͖́͞͡ ̵̵̧̛̮̬̺̺̲͙̯̓ͣ͛̈́ͦ̂͂͠͝͠w̸̨̛̛̱̞̲̭̻̞̥ͬ́̎ͩ̒̍̄͢͟͠ǫ̋̅͆ͬ̾̄́̀͠҉̴̟̰̻̤͉͎͉́͢ŗ̢̛̱͇̖̭̝̬͈̃̉́̋ͯ̽̍̀̕͢͞t̀̎̊̄̓ͩ̚҉̵̡͏̧̢͏̫̼̩͕̯̫͍h́ͤ̏̔̈̌ͮ͠͏̷̶̳͔̩͈̻̳͈͢͢͠ỹ̶̦͈̳̙̮̫̩̏ͮ͂̅͐̀̀̚͢͟͞͞ ̸̸̧ͩͧ̈̆̾ͯ̚̕͟͢҉̝̭̟̭̗͙̥o̴̸̶̢̺̤̠̮̯̼̗ͯ̐ͫ̌̈́ͧͣ͢͞͞f̢̧̛̓͗̆͊̈́ͫ͆͠͡͝͏̬̘̩̗̥̭̝ ̌ͨ̽ͯ̌̈́ͦ҉̵̨̧̜̤̣̺̩̼̯̀̀͞o̡ͮͩ̇̉͆ͬ̚͜҉͍̰͙͔̥̭̖́͢͢͝b̵̡̛̯̮̜͎̥̫́̉̿̒ͯ͑́̀͜͢͠ͅs̶̶̪̬̤͖̙̗͊̈ͭ͂͆̊ͮ͢͟͟͟͡ͅę̷̴̛̱͇̪͍̗̺͕̓ͮ͛̋̿ͤ͐͟͝͞ṡ̢̔̋͐̈ͭ̃҉͜҉̵̢̺̰̙͍͎̲̮͠s̸̢̡͇͇̪̥͕̘̮̾̎ͯ̎̅̍̑́͘͟͝į̸̟̤̜̖̰̙ͭͭͫ̑̄́ͪ̕͢͠͡͡ͅo̢͐̀͆ͤ̔̅͆͘҉̡̱̫̩̭͍̝͓̀͜͠nͦͭͩ́̾̋̓͏̷̀҉͏̟̺̭̟̤͖͙͟͢.̴̆ͬ̆ͫ̿̊ͥ͘͏̢̟͉̳̝̲̲͙́́͠ ̢̑͐ͯͮ̄͐̄̕̕͜͏̧͓̤̼̦̙͚̦͢Ï͐ͬ͗̉̽̃͞͠͏̡̡̢̳̠̠̯̥̗͜ͅ'̸̥̫̭̣̟͓͑̐̊͗̍ͨͥ̀̀͘͟͞͡ͅm͊͒̽̆ͦ̅̆̕҉̵̨̪̠̠̯̦̹͖͞͠͠ ̷̴̷͇͎̜̝̗̲̠̐ͬ̂̍̃͋͒́̕͘͠w̡̛͖̰̝̝͎̞͚̌̑̓͐̓͛́̀̚͟͝͠ó̉̒̿͆͌ͨ҉̷̨̧̜̮͇̪̮͓͖͘͡͠r̃ͨͩ̾͑̇̊͝͏͠҉̵̧͖̰̤̥͕̠̬͟ţ̴̶̊̅ͪ̄̓ͫͤ͏̶̘̣̝͙̲̥̕͟ͅh̷̺͖̗̝̙̝̟͋͆̂̍̒̿͂̕͘̕͜͠͝y̶̸̧̛̮̤̪̱̥̺̦̌͗̊̉̎͗͊́͘͞ ̇̈͌̆͒̿͑͏̸̵̶̨̛͏̞͇͙͚̻̬̭ơ̵̢̡͕̘͈͖͔̘̪ͦ̀̅̋͐ͮͤ̀͠͝f̿̈́͆͆̆͆ͤ҉̮͉̝̰̤͖̤͘̕͟͠͠͠ ̶̎͛ͤͣͣ͐ͭ̕͟͏̴̶̛̝̹̟̭̭̮̖o̵̶̴̩͚̘̜̙͚͍ͥ́͆ͣ̂͒̀̀̚̕͠b̵̵̢̢̥̯̺͕̭̺͖ͤ̓̆̋͗ͫͥ̀̕͡s̢̨̈́ͬͥ̋̏ͦ̈́͠͏͝͏̺͙̳̝̯͙͙e̶̡͖̣̥͙͍̻̠̿̅ͦͪ͒̌͛́̕͢͞͞s̸̷̷͓͓͚̗̭̦̋̑͊͒̒ͫ̿͝͡͞͠ͅs̷̢̢̟̟̖͔̹̩̳ͩ͗͐͑̓ͩ͗͢͢͠͝ĭ̸͗̆̎͛̽ͪ͜͡҉̷̥̼̭͚͓̞̻͘͘o̵̶̺͓̺͇͓͖̠͋̈͐͋͌̈́͋́̕͟͜͞n̸̆̑̏̍̓̽̆͢͠҉̴̙̩̟̰̥͍̕͡ͅ.̷̡̡̡̼͖͚̤̖̺̤ͦͫ̀̆͒ͧͦ̀͟͡ ̡̤͉̩͇̰̠̝ͪ̂̉̿̌͒͆̀͘͟͡͠͡I͌̃̉͑̈́ͫ̚҉̸̨̼͖͕̞̝̝́͘͝͞ͅ'̴̸̷̛̫̥̼̲̯̱̙ͣ͒̒́ͥ͌͗́͝͝m̶̢̀̈́ͥͧͬ̓ͧ́҉̡̢҉̼͍͓̦̰̦̱ ̵̧̛̝͚͈͓̜̱̘̽ͨͫ̄ͣ̅̍́̕͡͞w̴̷̶͒̔̇ͬ̆ͭ̚͘͢͝҉̲̼̻͇̞̱̗ö̵̢̧̢̢̯̫͚͔̫̹̹́̋͆̽̊͑̊́͞r̴̢̨̡̜̲̜̠̭̘͎͊ͬ͗̀͆̆͑́͜͡t̢̧̢̝͇͇̩͇̭͚ͦͩ̓ͣ̒ͫ̈͘̕͜͢h̵̡̧̢̖̼͖͕̼̰͒ͪͨͩͨ̅̊͢͡͠ͅy̸̴̨͇̙̖̻͙̮̼ͪ̂̾̓ͯ̅̆͜͝͝͞ ̵̵̷̭̝͔̳̲̣͖̏͋̊ͭ͋ͬ̏́͝͡͡ȏ̶̢̭̩͉̫͇̮͔ͧ̊̉̐̋̈́́͢͡͡͠f̏̒͆̅͑ͤ̓҉̵̧̢͎͖̩̭͕̬͡͝͠ͅ ̷̷̷̢̤̰͍̙̤̙͇̍ͤ͊ͣ̈̐͑́̀͜o̓ͥ̌͗̂̂̋͘͏̷̵̷̲̘͍̞̟͍̼̀͠b̸̨̧̧̝̣̬͇̘͇̳ͩͤ̽͛̌̐͗́͢͝s̴̷̵̰͉͓̞̙̟͇͂̉͑̐̑̆́̚̕͟͠e̸̛ͨ̽͒ͧ͗ͭͫ̀́͠͏̩͇̣̳̥̙͔͢s̷̵̨ͫͥ̿ͨͣ̐͂͢҉̨̢̥̣̖̗̱͍͉s̈́̌̈ͥ͊̏̍̀͢͏̢̨̭̠͖̖̞̠͓̀́i̧̛ͥ̌ͧͩ̈́̌ͪ҉̷̨̥̹̳̳̫̫̱̀͡o̤̬̬͚͕̫͚͗ͩ̉͐͆̽̎̀͘̕͜͜͟͠ṅ̸̨̓́̃ͯ̌̒͞͠҉̦̹̪̮͇̙̰͟͠.̶̨͑ͪ̉̑͊̎̽҉̷̢̀҉͇̝͖̻͚̞̣ ̷̡̛̝̥͉̭͇̗̤̿̈́̋̋͛ͣ̎́̕͢͢Ǐ̵̛̛̹̰͓̮̙̬͍͆͐ͥ̇͒̊̕͜͝͝'̵̨͋̂ͩ̀͑͂̊͏̨̭̫̹͉̣͚̫̕̕͜m̸̨̦̮͖̙̝͈̝ͯ͆͌̌̈̎ͪ͡͝͞͠͝ ̧̧ͥ͆̓ͬͥ͆ͨ̕͘͘͠͏̣̬̱͍̪̺̻w̷̷̢ͪ̀ͣ̂ͫ̈́ͬ͟҉͏͔̪̩͍͕̺͖͝ơ̡̡͔͇̞̬͓͍̰̾́̈́̅̽͋̂́̀͜͠r̵̊ͤ̑ͯ͋̉̚͢͏̵͝͞҉̩̞̼̣̩̲͍t̵̵̨̢̛͎̺̞͍̦̣͚̀̐ͧ͒̈́́̾͟͟h̷̶̶̜̳̱͉͕̲̟͗̈͗̍̐͒̈́͘͟͡͝ŷ̶̳͚̱͔̠͖ͤ͛̾̿ͨ̏́͘͟͟͠͠ͅ ̨̉̿̽ͭ̅̍͛́́͜͢͢͏̠̺̝̹̬̭̰õ̶̵̧̿͂̓̊ͯ̽́͏̷̢̖̖̣̺͇͕̗f̈́̋̈́̈ͥ̂ͣ͜͏͟҉̧̪͈̠̼̖̯̘́͡ ̴̡̛͍͕̮̯̖̙̜̈̈̍̓̒̄ͯ̀̕͠͞ǫ̶̸͎̹̯̦̮͚̩̋ͪ͌ͮͣͦ̈͟͜͠͞b̷̢̢̛̊̎̉̌̔̋̚͜͟҉̳̦͓̱̪̭̤ŝ̸̨̟̖̮̖͙̻͍͋̎͛̒͒̿́͘̕̕͞e̶̶̶̗̦͉̠̲͕̓̈ͩ͊̈ͤ̏͢͠͝͠ͅs̷̸̢̨̡̛̙̭͉͉̹̯̰̓̾͌̈́ͦ̆͗̕s̶̆̅̌̈́ͪ̔͛͘̕͞͏̸̵̲͖̖̲̟͚̲i̸̛̊͂̐̃̉͆̎́͜͢҉͓̣̙͔̹̱͟ͅǫ͂̎̆̌͐̓̚͏̸̷̨͏̙̰̩̗̟͈̖̀ń̅̂̅̆̐̍͏̀҉̸̡̻͕͕͔͓̤̤͢͠.͗͑͐ͧ̌̀̚͏̀̀͡҉̨̗͚̗͕̠͈̗̀ ̴̢̘͔͓͖͖̭̌ͮͣ̊ͦ̌ͣ̀̕̕͟͠ͅI̸̶̸̴̡̯̻̪̣̲̦̪̒̿̾̋ͣ̂̌́͡'́ͭ̋͗̌̄̽́͏̢̧͔̣̮̜͈̹͙̕͢͞m̴̷̌̀͌͆̃̆̑͏̸̶̛̜̲̫͕͚̮͠ͅ ̶̶̸̛̃͒̑͆͌̈̾͜͏̯͚̜͇̬̘̼͘w̢̢̜̘̜̳̪͍̗̓͛͒̂ͨͣ́͟͟͡͠͝o̷̸̸̡̫̬̳̜̦͔͖ͫ̾́̓̐͛͊̕͜͝r̷̛͛ͤ͛̅̽̈́ͬ҉̡͇̘͙̻̬͈̹̀͢͢t̢ͥ̌ͯ̃̃̈͊͠͏̶̛̀͏̟̻͕͙̠͓̼h͗ͭ͗̿ͦ̏̐̀̕͞͏̵̼͉̻͈̜͈̤́͝y̨̨̔̂̋̑͛̉̀҉̸̵̨͔̙̩͙̦͉̺́ ̴̵̧̢͓͖̝̗̱̣͖̎̾̂̅ͪͭ̓̀̀͜ơ̸̛̭̖̺͉̦̮̼̎̾͗̆ͯ̀ͩ͜͢͠͠f̵̡̢̲̹̱̦̥̗̱̀̒̉͊̑͒̇͘͘͢͟ ̧̡͋ͤͪ̈ͨ̓ͫ͘͏̀͏̵͎͉̜̩̟̖ͅo̧̧̧̢̡͉͇͍̤̦̰ͯ̉͆̄ͯ̔̎̕͝ͅb̴͒̉̉͒̊ͣ͊҉̸̸̢̛̮͎̱͙͈͇̣͠s̎͋́̅͊ͪ͐͡҉̸̸̷̨͇͉̮̞̗͕̣͟e̸̵̡͚̜̩̞̭̠̰̎ͫ̎͐ͥ́̀̚͜͡͞s̵̸̨̧̲̹͍͓̣̮̻ͥ̓̈́̊ͮ͋̊͘͜͝sͭ̓ͣͮͯ̏̀҉̀͘͢҉̴̛͖̗͉͖͙̱ͅi̴͈͈̰̝̭̙̤̽̎ͦ͐̽̎̓̀̕͟͟͞͠ǒͧ̌ͫ́̎̒͠͡͏̹͎̟̲̖͈̫̀̕͞͝n͂ͭ̄̒ͦ͌ͣ҉̶̧̢̡̛̤̠͓̘̘̭̮̕.̶̶̸̨̨̟̬̗͓̣̙͓ͯ́̐̄͂͆̑̕͜ ͦ̈̃ͯ͑̅ͫ͏҉̶̴̛̫̰̲̲͖̱̬́͝Į̌ͭ̍̉͌ͯͤ͢͝͝͏̨̧̮͖̰̻̯͍̙'̓̀ͭ̑͛̇̊͘͠҉̴͈͍̦̝͈͔̥̀͘͜m̵̡̡̛̝͈̗͕͔͇̖̏̑͂̄ͤ̌ͯ̀͘͢ ̶̴̛̏̑̈́ͧ̊̂͂҉̷̶̡̰̩͚̹̱̼̩w̆̓̿̋ͭͤͣ͏͘͠͡͏̴̲̪͔̳̖̹̤͢oͯ̄ͬ̆̐̔́͏̶̧̛̫̜͉͚̤̳͘͜͠ͅr̵̀̽ͨͤͣͦͣ͏̵̡̤̠͓̻̮̥̹́́͢t̶͇̪̤̯̮͔͇̂̎ͪ͑̌ͥ͒́͜͢͝͡͠h̴̴̿͗̿͋̈̓ͪ͘͞͝͠͏͕̲̳̣̭̜̰ẙ̧̌͌̿̇̒̆́͜͟͏̶͇̳͕̞̝̙̟͟ ͧ̀̿̽̇ͬ̽҉̴̶̸͖͍͖̼̪͍͘͟͞ͅǫ̴̴̆̍ͩͨ̈́̾ͥ͘҉̘̺͉̤̹̦͓͝͞f̵̛͒̐̏̃̌ͭ̌̕͝҉̨͚̬͈̯̩̮̬̕ ̸̷̡̞͖̟̱̖͗̋ͪͣ̒͋́̚͢͟͝ͅͅọ̶̷̧̨̢̗̮̫̭͈ͮ̿̑̋ͤ̓̏͢͡ͅb̴̵̧̧̛̝͕̳̯̹̻̠̓ͨͬͪͨ̾͊̕͝s̸̈́͑̄ͨ̄̋̋̀͘͢҉̸̴̜̣͇̘͚͈͕e̴̴̛̛̖̞̙̦̹͍͙͐̽̉̄̓ͬ̇̀́͡s̵̡͎̤͉̠̖̫̄̀͒͌ͫͩͦ̕͟͟͢͡ͅŝ̵̡̍͗̊̐̿́̚͏̷̵̨͚͔̘͕͇̺̜i̴͙̤̲͔̦͕͚ͤ͋͗͆̃ͭ͊͜͜͠͠͞͡ȏ͛̒ͩ̀̈́̔͠͏̷̴̧̘͉̙͎͍̺̺͝͡n̶̢̛̥̖̣̤̗̳̱̐̌͌ͧ͐ͣ́́͘͢͠.̷̢̨̾̏̀ͪ̍̈́̈́҉̷̷̨̰̦̘̟̙̭̠ ̨̢͍̝̙̖̱͖́ͥ̿̽̂ͣ́͟͢͜Ȋ̵̸̧̙̫͍̟̲̝̄̎̐̽ͮ́͜͡'̸̴̶̵̨̛̭͇̼̳̙̏͒̉̐ͧͧͅm̈ͨͤͯͪͮ͢͝҉̀͏̥̦͖̭̥̱͝ ̸̶̧̧̡͍̬͉̻̦͈ͩͭͩͨ̆ͩ͢w̷̢̾͌͊ͧ͗̽͏̛̫̪̪͍̟̮̀͝õͭ̍͌́̂́͢͏̧̛̗̗̯͙̰́ͅr̡̡̢̛̛̺̹̗͕̜̄͑̀ͯͮ͊͝ͅt̀̾̍ͨ̏͂͏̴̹̖͓̱̺̱́͢͟͠h̡̛͕̬͖̰̣͖̑̾̈́̏̅͂́̕͘͢y̷͂̔̂̓̒̈́҉̧̢̱̯̫̬̭̘͘̕ ͋͋̎̓̇ͮ҉̴̷̷͇̫͉͇͙̥͘͟ơ̧̧̘̫͔̻͚̗ͥ̏ͥͫͮ̚̕͜͝f̷̷̴̷̢͕͚̞͇͙̪ͨ̓̋̊͒̓͝ ̷̶̢̛̌͆͒̂͒͂̕҉͔̪͖͍̼̙ơ̷͎̳̠̞͈͍̒͛̉̽ͨ̾͞͡͠͝b̸̶̵̢̛͉̰̹̳̣̼ͧͨͨ̉͂̃͝s̴̨̛͔̱͎̫͔ͪ͋̔͒ͥ̓͘͘͢ͅẻ̷̶̶̿ͦ͛̈͑͜͡͏̟̮͎͎̣͔ş̆ͧ̔ͥͩ͊͝҉̡̣̖̫̙̼̫̕̕s̏ͪͬ̽͂̚͏҉̶͈͍̞̮̬̗́̕͝i̸̶̢̗̫̮̼̳͉ͬ͛ͭͩ̋͛͜͟͠o̡̧̡͐̒͗ͫ͐̿͠͝͏̘̮͈̲̳̥n̶̶̷̨̛̯̱̖̫͓͒ͭ̆ͤͭ́̚ͅ.̸̛͈̜̹͚͙̳̀͑ͭ̅̏͐͘͞͠͝ ̸̵̢̯̝͇̲̱̳͒̇ͩͣ̑͋́͘͢I͐͒͐̔̆ͩ҉̵̧̟̰̤̙̖̤̀͠͝'̶̧̛̭͉̙̱̤̤̐̀̊͛͒̚͘͟͠m̃̂͂̃͐̉͟҉̧̛̕͏̥̯̭͍̻̲ ̴̡̅͗ͣ̅ͤ͊͢͏̦̝̩̫̟͙̕͡w̴̧̛͇̗̹̗̺̲̐͑̾ͪ̊ͥ̀͝͝o̸̊ͮ͑ͨ͑̚͟͏̶̡̱̱̭̮̟̼͢r̶̡̢̎̅̂ͪ́ͭ͢҉̡͉̩͕̙̝͈ẗ̴̷̎́͒͋̉̀͠͝҉͚͉͚̙̖͚h̵̵̡͖͖̣̝̥̠͒̆̅̔̌̀͟͜͠y̷̡̧̲͓͇͚̼͈ͧͭͧ͒͑̏͘͢͢ ̸̨̥͇̗͎̪̱̇̈̑̊ͩ̀̚̕͢͡ơ̢̡͎̫͈̦̭̝͒ͯ̀͊̀̚͘͢͡f̢̞̮̰͖̟̼͌̇̽ͨͬ̅̀͜͞͠͝ ̀ͩ̽̆̋ͥ͏̴̶̱̫̪̫͎̠͢͡͝o̽̆̿̿ͮ̋҉̴̶̝͔̳̥̞̰͟͜͜b̷̴̨̨͚̩̱̼̜͚̍́͐̇̔ͪ͡͝s̨̨̅̾ͧ͒̒̈̀͝͝҉͙̤̰̮̼̼e̷̴̢͖̮̞͎͕̻ͥ̋̇͛̓͒́͘͟s̶̢̢̙͈͍̦͓͙ͫ́̇̾ͬ̓̀̕͡s̶̡̯̟͙̱̪ͩͥ̐̒͐̉͘̕̕͜ͅi̶̧̽ͯͧ̌ͤ̚͢͜͞͏͎̯̦͎͇̤ơ̵̡̧͈̹̪̦̜͒͒̋̃ͩ͊̕͞ͅn̴̢ͧͯ̅͐̏̌͜҉̛̦̰̣̮̩͞ͅ.̵̆͗̍͆̑̀̚͞͏̧̜̲̣̜̭̪͘ ̧̛̞̱̹̝͕̦͆ͬ͛̽ͮ͑͟͞͠͡Į̷̨̨͚͙̤̮̠̅͗̓ͩͫ̍̀͠ͅ'̡̧̛̗̳͓̯̫̺͛̾ͫ̐̏̏͢͝͡m̷̴̨̽͛͐ͣ̿̅҉̴̤͍̭̯̞̫͝ ̶̢̛̘̳͕͍̟̰̓́͂̈̑̚͘͟͜w̵̶̡͓̫̪̩̜͍̉͛̊͐̅̓͘͘͢ǫ̷̧͉̫̺̰̞͇ͪͬ͛ͩͮ̃͘͞͞r̴̢̡̡̯͚̭̣̠͍ͥͪ̌̏ͤͬ́͟t̍ͮͬ͐ͥͯ҉҉͏͚̣̖̟͕͓́́͡h̾̆́́̾͗҉̢̫͈̫͕̮͟͝͠͞ͅÿ̷́̏͊ͩ͗͒̕͜͏̢̪͍̱̜͔̤͟ ̶̷̏̏̒̾ͯͦ͏̷̡̛̺͖̠̤͍̗o͐́ͫͧ͊̒҉̢̧̫̜̻̦̟̠͘͞͠f̵̴̨̗̥͓͍̯̤̿͆̒̀͐̂̀͢͠ ̸̶̧̽̍ͭ̄͋̚҉͏͎̜̯͔͔̜͘o̢̢ͩ̑̽̏ͯ͋͏̗͙͚̮̗̙̕͞͠b̷̵͒͆̽͆̏̑͟͠͠҉̺͖̱̳͖̱ş̛͉̹̥͍̰̅̾̓̎ͣ͑͜͟͝͝ͅĕ̛̳̣̗̪̦̰̈́ͪͤ̂̅͘͟͜͠͡s̶̴̡̪͙̩̥͈͈̓ͣ̋͗̎̈́́͠͠s̴̸̵̨̖͈̘͔͓͔̏ͥ̊̉̓̎́͟į̸̭͓͇̮̯͔̽̿ͦ̈́͑͐̀͜͢͡o̢̢̹͕̙̲̗͆ͤ͊̐͑ͨ͝͞͝͡ͅṅ̋͑̑̆̏͏҉͘͜͠҉͔̺̪̘̘̩.̸̧̨̧̭̝̯̩̹͓̾͆ͩ̈̃ͫ͢͟ ̷̷̶͓͉̖͇͎̭̑̾̊͆̑̚̕͜͞Į̸̢͋͋̈ͧ̅̚͟҉҉͎͎̥̻͙̪'̷̵̢̠͚̫̭͍͚̒͑̄̃ͯ̿̕̕̕ḿ̴̶̄̄ͧ̇͐҉̸̺͇͇̝̳͓̕͝ ̵̸̛̞͎̪̰̹̎̉ͮ̽ͥ̽̀͜͝ͅẁ̨̢̿̋͗ͤͦ҉͖͙̘̣̠̺́͜͠o̽̍ͦͯ͊ͮ͏͟͝͏̶͉̖̗̜͓̠͞r̷̨͂͊ͭ̓̽̈́̕͟͝҉͍̥̮̪̙̭ẗ̨̛̈͊̂ͮ̐͡͡҉̢͓̙͍͖̼̝h̷̸̨̢͂̌ͪͬ̈ͯ͘҉͖̮̜͇͉̱y̵̧̨͐̀ͫͦ̉̚͝͏̷̗̹̥̰̠͇ ̇ͫ̆́̔ͯ҉̵̨̢̲̦̼̙͕͇̕͠ò̢̝͈͈̰̳͇ͬͯͬ̌̚͘͜͢͟͜f̨̿ͩ̋ͣ̔̌͘͏̨҉̧̠͖̭̞͔̥ ͩͬ̅̓̒͋́͜͠͠͞҉̭̲̪͍͇̟o̸̷͋ͧͭ̄̃̆͢͢͜͏̟̤̫̰̥̫b̋ͩ̑̋ͮ͛͏̶̴̛̗̺̟̙̥̱̀͟ş̵́͐͂͌̈́͆͡͏̡̱͉̤͖͕̲͟e̶͐̽ͯͤͯ̃͘͢҉̵̳̰͔̜͎͎͡s̶̵̵̨̛̞̬̰͙̣ͤͦͦ͑ͧ̏́ͅs̶̸̋̂̋͋̈́̓͠͏̡̖͔̤̘̪̟͜ĭ̸̛̤͓̻͓͎͔̅͑ͣͫ̒̀́́͞ǫ͐ͤͮͮ͒́҉̱͖̗̲͍̩̕͟͜͠ņ̷̡̹̝͙̦̯̯͒ͣ̒̎̃̄̕͡͞.̨̨̨̪̙̠͉̱̽ͤ̎̔ͥ̈́́̕͡ͅ ͊͊ͬ͋̉ͪ͏͟͜͞͠͏̥̰̯̱̗̼Į̵͖̗̜̰̖͔̃ͮͩ͆͐ͬ́́͢͝'̴̈ͧ̏͑̿̔͏̢͎͉̭͕̫̫͝͠͝mͨ̌ͥͧ̂̓҉̢͈͈̝̼̼̯́́͘̕ ̷̵̛̞͇͎̥̳͈͒̊̉̋̊̚͜͝͞w̸̸̛̛͇̹͚̱̤̦ͤ̅̂ͪͪ͒̀͜ơ̢̖͍̟̲̗̭ͦ̒ͨ͂̎̀́̚͘͜r̵̿̀͐̆̍ͧ҉̥̱̬̪̝͎̀́͘͠t̵̍̿͒̎̆͗͏̵͇̰̤̖̠̟͜͢͝h̴̨̡̻̰̱̲̞̜͌̽͆̔͛̊̀̕͜y̷̏ͩͬͮ̋ͫ͏͏͓̦͈̟͇͎͘͢͞ ̗̼͖̝̹̫̄̂ͯ́͐͆́̀͘̕͜͜o̧̡͆̄́̑̊͌͞͏̀҉̮̪͚͔͕͖f̨ͧͤͫ̿͛̆͘͘͘͝҉̹̳̞͓̫̭ ̨̔̒̊ͮ̓͑҉̢̢̣̩̖͉̩̻͢͝ǫ̴̡̗͍͚̮̫͈̃͌ͮ̃̒̀͟͢͠b̷̸̂̓̋͆ͣͣ́͏̡͏̖̲̪̳̩ͅs̶̸̴͐̃͗ͬ̿̏͞҉̡̜͖̪͓̠̱e̷̸̵̵͛̉ͯͦ̽̓́҉̣̠͚̺̬̲sͦ́ͨ͂͛̓͏̸̸̨̛̛̪̩̠̭͚̪s̴̛ͨ̑ͣ̐̓ͥ́͢͠͏͕̖͍͔̩̖i͐̊̋̆̿ͤ͘͏̡҉͏̞̦̪͙̳̺͜o̷̿̎̈́ͪ́̐͝͏̷͙͙̘̮̬̱́͠n̨̛͕̠͎̪̲͕̐̓͛̐ͦ̅͜͠͝͡.̧̊̿̄͌ͮ̽́͟͏̨̱̞͓̺͙̝̕ ̶̴̢̛͖̗̹̝̭̘̾ͦͤ̓ͧ̽͘͜I̴͂̇̑̌̋ͤ͘͝͡҉̷̺̦͖̱͙ͅ'̷̷̢̹̞̙̙̲̜̾ͨͦͮ͐ͥ̀͡͞m̵̨̠̙͖̘̰̮̆ͫ̈́̈́̔̈́̕͢͟͝ ̢͂ͨͭͤ̈͗͘͏̷̡̛͍̹̖̱̫͖ẅ́̽̿͋̂̆͏̡̢̜̫̫̥͔͎̀̀͠ó̻̗͎̭͔̙ͩ͑̇ͫ̓̀́͜͠͡͞r̷̤͚̲̺̻̻͊̽̉̈́̓ͭ͘͟͠͠͝t̸̵̸̨̹̫͇͉͑͆ͣ̂͑̋̀͞ͅͅh̷̨ͥ͂̎͂̈́̚͏̵͏̖̗̙̟͚̳͜ŷ̡̈ͨ͑̌̇̕͢҉̧̥͓͍̜̜̳͜ ̸̡̧̨̡̤̪̣̪̟̳̾̂ͩ̀̈́̚͜o̡̡̧͔̼̥̬̹̗ͮ̈́ͥ̏̉̉̕͜͢f̡̛̛̆̌͐͊̀̚̕͘҉̘̺͙̗̣̖ ͪ̌́̉͋͑҉̵͈͙̫̟̯́͢͜͞ͅǫ̷̛̛̯̩̱̘̫̱̐̍͐̿̍̀͟͝b̸̸̧͈̗̮̹̹͇̓̈́͑͆̅̈́͡͝͡s̴̶̾̓̀͒͑̀̚͜͜͏̱̩͔̟̠̰ȩ̸̨̛̛͙̙̮̗̫ͤͤ͂͌͊̋͘ͅsͤͥͣͣ̑ͣ҉͢҉҉̀҉͓̺͉̠͍̭ş̵̵͑̅̓͛͛̀͜͞҉̲̦̬͚͙̟i̢̨͚̣͖͓̦ͤ͊̾̈ͫ̃͞͞͡͞ͅö́̅̽̋͂̅͡҉̢͏̶̢̮̦̲͙̣ͅn̶͖̦͈͔̘͇̍̇ͦ̋̎͒̀̕͘͝͞.̷̶̨͇͕͚̲̪͖̇́̆ͧ͊̔͟͟͞ ̡̧̟̬̹̬̲̔̂̈̾̉̕̕͞I̵̴̛̐̓́͌̿͏̵̰̳͖̣̥'̵̡̬̣̻̖͌̌͋ͤ͊̀̀͝ͅmͨͨͮͫͥ͞҉̢̮̲̻͖͜͝ͅ ̸̨̿̈́͗̈́̔́͘҉͇̺̦̝͕w̶̢̨̳̹̫̗͉̑ͣ́͂̂͘͞ơ̛̖̤̗̯̲̔̇́̀̚̕͜͠rͣ̉̈́͒͋͟͏̵͍̖͓̻̥͟͠t̡̡̘͎̥̼̮ͥͬ͒̐͊̀͡͠ĥ̸̷̨̡͚͍̮̯̖̿ͫ͂́̕ỷ̴ͬ̋̀́́͝͏̶̗̟̭͇͔ ̷̸̻͉̞̟͓ͯ̋ͣ͐̍́̕͠oͩ̓̔ͧ̈́҉̨̧͖̯̖̮̯̕͢f̵̛̭̻̰̯̮̈ͨͪ̈ͭ̕͢͝ ̢̨̨͓̬̘̬͔̓̊̄̽ͧ̀͡o̽̓͗̎̆͠͏̹̳͓̙̖̀̀͟b̷̷̡̨͍̖̟͊̓̇̔ͤ͘ͅͅs̟̘̯͔̣̓ͬ̆̐̇̀̀͢͜͞ȩ̶̸̴̢̰̦̦̣͎̿̆ͪͬ̾s̭͔̗͈͓͐̎ͭ̍ͪ́͘͞͠͞sͭ̄̐̎͋̀҉̵͏̴͖̹͈̙̖i̸̵̢̧͎͎̻̤̹ͤ́͐͆̈͡ơ̑ͮ̍̓ͥ͏͞͠҉̠̯̬̱̳n̶̴̡͎͓͔̣̩̅ͦ̊̅ͦ̀́.̨̢ͫ͑̄͂̓͏̬̦͕̣͉͜͝ ̵̷̍ͩ́ͥ̑͢͞҉̻̼̹̞̬I̴̢̢͓͚͇̞͔̍͑̋ͤ̾̕͡'̴̶̡̥͔̣̥̫̔́ͩͮͤ͘͜m̨̨̟̝̼̫͚̄̆͂ͪ̓̕͞͡ ̸̸̡̧̥͔̲̯̫͆̊̏ͥ͐̕w̸̡̧̯͎̜̬̝͆ͣͫ̉̽́͠ȯ̵͌ͬͧ͒͏̯͍̫͈͍́͝͝r̷̵̝̥̜̗̥͛ͧ̓͊̽͢͜͜ṫͬͪ̓̊͏̡̣̹̘͇̜͘͢͞h̴̨͙̦̣͎̥̉̏͒̍̓͘͘̕y̷͙͙͓̫̫͆̇ͩ͂̌͘͘͢͞ ̸̡̎̒͆ͤͣ̀͡͏̥̲̰̞̗o̷̢̖̭͍̞̲ͣ̅ͧͫ̇͢͝͡f̽̿̎ͣͣ͠͏̴̧̥̫̠̤̯́ ̵͉͕̖̞̻̒̑͑̊̀́́͠͠o̸̷̢͚̰̜̥̘͐͆̈̎̀̚͝b̷̨̡̧̩̯̤͇͊ͫ̀̂͛́ͅs̡̿ͩͭͮ̚͟͏̟͙͔̰̠͞͞e͌͋̈́ͩͩ҉̶̵̨̝͖̣̘̝͢s̴̛̛̥͔͎̯̼̒̏͌ͫ̾͠͡s̶̨̛͎͇̥͍͚ͣ͌̀ͣ̚͝͡ǐ̧̐̀̓ͤ̕͜͠͏̥̣̦̜̯o̡̝͎͙͍ͬ͒ͧ͂̉́̀̕͠ͅn̵̵̶̝̘͍̘͇ͩ̀̔ͬͧ̀͞.̵̊̓̓͐̉͏̴̰̮̜̜͓͞͞ ̶̸̸̨̛̼̮͚͙͎̅̈́͛̑͋I̸̷̝̭̙̞͚ͧ̃̑͒̂́́͟'̶ͦ̒͑̆̉҉̶̢̢͕̯̠̻̦m̶̶̢͍̼͔̱̖̾̒͑ͮ͗͘͢ ͐̔ͪ̆̊͟͡͏̛̬̙̲̳͈́w̢̧̭̰̥̠̤͋ͫ̋ͫ̚̕͢͝o̸̵̢̟͚͉͚͉͛͊̄̈́̆͟͞ŕ̓̍̍̚҉̵̨̤̞͉̳̠͘͢t̵̵͉͎̜̮͕͊̾̈̽̈͢͝͡h̨̡͈̞̫̱ͭͣ͒̉ͥ͜͟͡ͅy̶̧̥͍͍̝͍͑͒ͪ͊̓́͢͞ ̶̶̢̡̤͉͚̪͔̇͆̓ͥ͐͘ơ͆̌̀̍͆҉̨̰͇͖͔͉͢͢f̵̦̺͓̘͐̒̓̈ͣ́̕͟͝ͅ ̉͌̄̈́ͥ̀͝͏͏̖̳̼̫͕͜o̴̴͙͖̲̲̦̽́̄͂̄̀͞͞bͣ͂ͣ̾ͩ͝͏̸̫̘̰͉̳͟͜ş̗̫̟̞̗̑͐ͫͭ͑̀̀̕͢e̶̛̾̈̊̄ͨ̕҉̶̠̰͕̗ͅsͭ͋̇̊͑҉̵̝̥͕̱̘́̕͢s̶̷̵̱̼͕̻̮̐ͦ̒̾͆͘͠i̵̢̫͙̲͇͉͐ͨ͒͗̊͟͝͞ȏ̷̢̠̳̞̮̩̍̏̃̚͘͢͠n̷̢̩͇̖̞̮͊ͤ̈̐ͨ͝͠͠.̡̧̢̖̩̙͕̼͛ͣ̅̈̚͞͝ ̵̷̷̀̉̆̊͒͘͏͍̥̝͎̩I̧̨̛̟̖̺̩̐̈́ͨͣ̚͝͠ͅ'̶̧̢̨̥̘̮̟̳ͣ͒̊̀̚͢m͆̉ͤͨ̉͝͏͓͕̻̹͚͘̕͢ ̸̸̆̎ͨ͊̊͜͏̘̬͔̱͓͝w̸̡̿̋̇ͣ̄͟͏̼͙̺̜̻͞o̶͒̽̎́̂͏̸̱͙̞͇̰́͞ŗ̢̧̖̼͎̼̟̒̐ͯ̋̏͟͝t̷̟̖̞͍̩̆͆̀̆̄͟͡͝͠ḩ̳̱̭̤͔͛́͗ͦ́̀̚͜͟y̵̡̛̏ͫͦ͋̚҉̳͇̜͍̪́ ̴̶̡̨̯̻̺̬̂̽͊ͩ̌͘ͅo̵̡̱̜̠͇͍̽ͩ̓ͮ̅͘͟͞fͭ̏͑͆ͮ҉̸̶҉͓̱̬̥̖͢ ̨͙̜̲̭̙̾̆ͤͧ̐͘͜͡͠ơ̡̥̙̫̲̙ͣ̃̂̂ͧ̀͡͞b̋͆ͪ̿̔́҉̡͠͏͈̙̯ͅͅs̴̡͚̜̱͍̪̈́̿ͪ̾ͯ̕͟͡e̷̢ͨ̀͛ͨͮ́́͏̫̮̭͎̦ş̢̛̮͔̳̰̫ͬͧ̔͂͌͟͠s̷͆̑͂̈́͋͝͝͠͏̦̯͎̣̮i̡̧̠̫͙̗̦ͫ̐̑͒͐͘͢͝ö̴̸̑̉ͤ̎͏͈̫̰͙̰́͢n̫̺͓̙̩ͥ͌͂̉ͫ́̕͘͢͠.̷̴̡̪̣̖̻̹̎̌͋ͪͫ̀͟ ̵̱̼̱̺̞̐̊͛͊ͭ͘͜͡͠I̡̜̪͉̥̳͐̇ͬ̅̿̀͢͞͠'̸̷̡̛̱̻̫̼̳̃ͮͦͮͥ̀m̴̸̛̦̣̫̬̣͋ͤͧ̀̓͟͝ ̴̧̘̠͇͕͍ͬ̎ͬͩ̚͢͜͝w̨ͬͯͫ̅̏́̕̕͏̘̦̼̟̺o̵̴͉̞̳̥͇͗̇ͨͤͧ̕̕͘r̵̡̡͕̤̖̳̮ͪͪ̾ͧ̚͢͡t͛̇̔ͩ̔͡҉̴̧̹̝̠̖͠ͅh̸̶̡̖̬͙̗̠͆̓̌̅ͣ͢͞yͤͭ̂ͤ͊҉̷̴̡̻͖͓̣̟͡ ̡̨͍͙̲̲͍̿̑̎ͮ̒̕͢͠o̷̶̧̨̱̠̞̣̲͂̓͗͌̄͡f̧̨̡͕̮͎̭̟̀̈̂̓͛́͝ ̷̶̸̲͖̜͉͗̇ͮ͋̃͡͞ͅo̷̸̸̢̗̠͉̥̰̿ͧ̈́̍ͮ͟b̵̷̧̨͕̜͙̥̭̎́ͯͧ̀͜s̨̥͎̬̜̽ͧ̎̐̈͘͜͠͞ͅę̵̸̛̱̻̮͓̰ͭ͂ͣ͑̚͡s̢͇̥̺͕͋͛̏̅ͮ̀̕͟͞ͅş̶͓̬̰̗̒͐͆ͥ̏͟͟͝ͅḭ̢̡̲͓͓̱͋ͮ̄̔̿͜͞͝ǫ̻̖̦̝̝̎͐͆ͬ͒̀͠͞͝n̨̢͇̞̞̳̥ͥ̓ͪ̽́͘͢͜.̸̵̸̩̘͖͚̤ͥ͐͐͛ͤ́͝ ̓̋͂̈́͑̀̕͏̡̧͚̭͈͍̠Į̛͛̋̽ͤͬ̕͝͏͓̪͖͔̱'̷̷̡̛͚̼̥̘̣̐ͬ̃́̾͝m̶̧̛͈̦̻͉͓̐̀ͬ͒̿͢͟ ̡̛̗̤̝͚̩ͤͮ̈́ͧ͊͘͜͞w̡̧̛̤̼̰̙̖̃͆ͮ̔̽͢͠ơ̛ͣ̓ͥ͌ͫ͏̵̩̮̝̫͇͜r̴̶̸̨̹͎̫̯̱̐̽̆̃ͯ͞t̢̨͓̩̘̳̤̀ͮ͌͌͒́͞͠h̢̨̽̔ͦ͑͂͞͏̺̦̱̮̹͘y̵̛̬̥̯̻͎͒ͦͣ̉̇̕͜͡ ̅̓ͬͫ͗͏̸͉̖̬͔̜̀͟͞ȍ̵̦͖̹̩̲̍ͫ̑̉́̀̕͠f̷̢͎̖̲̺͚̓̽͌ͣ̂̀͡͝ ̧̨̲͉̲̜̳ͦͦ͑͛̿́͢͡o̷̶̶̧͇̪͇̰̬͒̏̔̇̈͠b̸̷̸̹̟̪͉̻̊̈́ͧ͒͛͡͠s͐ͮ̌ͨ̆́҉͏̳̫̜̖̘́͘e̢̧̛͖̮͍̖̺̒̒͐͌̈͢͠s̵̸̸͈̺̬͔͎̍̎͒ͩ͌̕͠s̷̵̺͖̼̗̹̾ͭ̈̊̐̀͝͡į̡̊ͤͨ̔͊̕͡͏̞̤̝̪͓ơ̢̛̘̞̠͖̹̐̌́̄ͤ͘͡n̶̛͊̓͌ͯ̅̕҉̜͉̘͎̺͜.̋̅̎ͭͦ͘̕͟͡͏͖̥͈͚̗ ̸̐ͩ͆̆͟͜҉̰̪̞͖I̴̧̨͋̒͆͛҉͖̼͔̩'ͩ̎̀ͥ͏͔̟̮̰͢͢͡ḿ̸̛̗͕̰̮͂̎̓̕͠ ̛̻̬͈̣̉ͣ́̚̕͞͝w̡̛ͣ̅̔͒͜҉̣͚͕͍ȍ̢̢͖͈̪͉̑ͬͣ͝͞r̢̛̫̳̗̝̽ͨ̇͒̀͢ţ̸̴͈̟̤̘̈́͛̆̿͝ḩ̢̺͇̘̘̒̑͋́̚͘y̸̧̩̺̦͚͗͐̎͋̀́ ̢̢̛̟̖ͭͨͤ̇͝ͅͅo̵̸̧͙̦̠̠ͬ̀̌̿́f̷̷̡̞͓̖̠̃̽̋͂́ ͈͚̝͔͐̋̿́̀͘͞͞ő̆͋ͪ͝͏̨̖͉͔̬͞b̢̫̫̻̄̒̓̍͘͜͡ͅs̶̶̡͎̠͇̹͆̓͒̂͢e̫̲͙̲ͣ̇ͧ́́̚͘͞s̸̛̩͕̩̙ͦͧ̚̚͘͝ŝ̶̪̣̹̫̉̍͐͘͠͠i̛͖̟̠̯̿͑͂̋͟͟͜ǫ͖̞͍̣ͣ̏̈́ͪ̀͟͟n̵̸͔͙̦͖ͨ̈̐̈́͡͞.̑̊ͭ̍̀͜͏̠͕͙͖͢ ̔́ͩ̿͡͏̧͈͕̣̼͠Ḭ̶̢̰̗̺̉͊͌̄͠͡'̔̈́̂̑͘͝͏̢̤̝͈͈m̛̈́̈́̎̒͏̛͚̤͎̥͢ ̴̻̳͍̫̂ͧ̾̚͟͢͡w̡ͩ͂ͥͭ͡͏̡̜̬̱̘o̧̧̩͍̥͓͐̔ͪ̓͜͞r͆̃̍̀͏̸̶̨͇̲̥̹t̴̛̠̮̫̱̊̇̌͂́̀h̢̦͓͈͕̽ͤ̓̎̀̕͢ẙ̧̡̓̈̚͢҉͈͚̩̬ ̢ͫ̽̏ͧ͟͏͏͔̯̤͔oͩ̑̈́ͭ҉̵̨͙̤̣͍́f̨͓̱̙͙ͩͨ̑ͬ͘͡͞ ̶̡̡̬̜̰̪̏̊͗̄͜ő̷͇̪̩̖̍ͧ̍̀̕͡b̡̼͇̫ͦ͗͒ͥ̀̕͝ͅs̺̖̦̗̈̓̊ͦ̕͟͝͞ȩ̶̼̠̻͕ͤͬ̿̄̀͠ŝ̈̒̚͏̵̸̪̜̺̘͡s̸̡̲̲̠̫ͦ͛͆͐͢͡i̧̢̛̛̙̱͍͉ͨ͐̀̚ö̸̶̩̰̝̼ͦ̄̊͠͝n̶̷̵̘͖̤͙̓̂͊͌͢.̵̨̙̩̩̳ͤ̇̽̚͢͞ ̨̧̡̟̮͍̳̄̆̽ͫ̀Ĭ͔̻̼̮͊̌ͮ̀͘͟͝'̷̻̰̺̦̇̾ͣ̀́̕͢m̡̨̛̹̥͉͔ͪ̌ͧ̀͠ ͗ͯ́̽́҉̵̡̰̳͈̘w̵̴̰̙̙̩̉̄̋̚̕͝o̾̏̈́̿҉̷̡̜̳̰͘ͅr̨̡̽ͭ̋ͧ͏̨̙̤̬̪t̷̨͓̩̰͈̏̓ͧ̃̀͟ḩ̸̤̠͙͈̿̆ͩ̑́͟y̵̟̱̪̺͛̈̐ͪ́̕͝ ̶ͣͩ̽ͭ҉̸̢͖̦̞̲o̷̸̧͚̤̮̼̽ͯ͒͗͡f̶̡̨͎̭̯͓͌̀̍̎͘ ̨̢̤̘̭ͤ͆̔ͫ́͡ͅo̐ͭͣ́͞҉̧̧̼̹̲̯b̸̪̙̺̫ͮ̑̑̀́́͘s̨̛͈̜͔̳̾͋͆͂̀͝ĕ̸̊̄̇͘͏͙̰̖̹͘s̶̷̗̭̜̟ͬ̀ͦͯ͠͡s̶̢̜͖͉̩͊̋̈̿͡͞î̂̇͐҉̵̶̯̤̗̬͡ó̶͓͖͇̼́̅̓͜͠͝n̵̛̠̠͔̜͂̽̔̿̀̕.̨̨̍ͨͣ̽̕҉̗̼̦ͅ ̧̛̼͉̮̫ͤͥ͆̓̕͘Ị̶̶̖͚̘̿̾ͣ̾͟͢'̷̷̔̀̊̀҉̧͖̳̪͚m̷̴̧̙̰͙̟͆̃ͭͮ͢ ̸̯̞͙̥̏̈ͭ̈́͜͡͝w̧̨̝̣̞̭̾̄͋̒͘͢ŏ̢̢̓̓͗͞҉̝̹̻̗r̛̛̐̓̍̎͏̨͕͎̲̣ṱ̡̩̜̰ͬ͋́ͪ̕͡͠h̓́͋̚͘͝͏̼̪̥͉͢y̶͑͂̓͒͜͡͏͈̲̤̩ ̸̩͙͕̪̿̓̑́͘͟͡o̢̢̎̋̎ͬ҉̛̞̬̫͇f̵̪̩̫̙ͬ̾̂̒͘̕͠ ̸̢͉̥͚͓̓̉͑ͦ͟͠ǫ̶̴͕͖͇̭ͩ̋̊̒̕b̊̌̿͊͏̀͢҉͍̪̮̬s̾̋͒̍͏̕҉̶͇̰̘̬ẻ̶̳̲̘̯͑̽͊͘͜͠s̴̖͍̹̤ͨ̇̈̆͢͟͠ș̸̣͍̮̾ͬͥ̿̕͡͞i̷̴̗͙͎͚̓ͯͯ͂͘͜o̧̢̫̱͕̭ͩ̓͛͒́͟ņ̴̢̛̪̜̱̺͛ͮͤ̂.̀͆ͧ̍͏̮̫̼̩́͢͠ ̸̨͙̰̜͆̃̿̏̕͡ͅḮ̴̸̷͓̮͍̯̃͌͌͞'͗͆͌̋҉҉͠͏̼̞̖͙m̷̟̺͖̬̈́̂̍͑́̕͟ ̧̦̲̩ͧ̈́̒͊͢͝͞ͅw͐̊̾̓́҉̸̮͖̤̩͟o̵̡̧̳̳͍̻͛͂̅ͬ͟ŗ̢̳̹̥̫͛ͩ͌̓͠͠t̵̸͔̜̪ͥ̈́͛̓́́ͅhͩ̃̆͐͏̸̠̩̪͔͜͡y̌͑̋ͭ́̕͏̴͙̙̩͙ ̙̝͔̥̏̋ͭͩ́͢͟͜ơ̸͗ͩ̆̿͜҉̥͎̗͖f̶̢̝̺̗̟̍ͦ̋͐͜͡ ͮ͐ͬ̄́͜͏͏͖̥̳̙ô͐ͬ̐͏̴͚̫͕̘͝͝b̴̵̴͕͕͕̤ͩͭ̽ͫ͠sͮ͋ͪ̒͘͝͝͏̱̘͙̪e̢̨̝̞͉̹̐̓ͬ̏̕̕s̷̨̢̯̗͇̮͂ͧ̑ͬ͝s̨̙̲̩̝ͦ̂̾ͩ̀͘͡i̷̡̧̦̯̦̲ͥ̌́̂͢ỏ̷͇̪̪̬̽͋̍͘͡͠nͧ̉̋͂̀͠͏҉͕͙͈̣.̧̀ͭ̓̋҉҉̡̟̺͎̠ ̡̨̦̪̰͓̌̓͗̋̀͟I̷̸̛̞͎͍̜͐͋ͧ̈́͝'͒̂̈́̄͏̵͚̲̝̞͢͡ṃ̛̛̻̰̼̿ͪͫ̀̚͢ ̸̝̭̖̟͐̑͗̂͟͡͠w̴̬͉̼̻̏̄̂̌̕͜͟o̎͆̏̒҉̨̢̧͕̞̹͇r̨ͯͤ̓͑͘͏̻͍͚̘̀t̟̱̣̺͆ͭ̂ͥ̕͞͠͠h̷ͯ̊ͩ̅҉̝͖͓̳́͡y̴̨ͨͮ̉͆͠҉̪̠̙͇ ̛͎̘͚̙ͮ̃̃ͬ̀́͝ö̸̷̼͈͈͓ͩ̎ͭ͘̕f̧̿͛̃͆̀͢҉͍̰̗͖ ̷̨̨͍͓͎͙̂ͬͥ̋͝ǒ́̎̚҉̴̡̡̝̲̙̣b̶̪̟̪̟͂̈̈̃͘͢͞s̶̩̜̫͍̓̌̋̚͟͞͡ė̸̶͚͔͖̦͐̒́̀͢s̶̨͔̠̠͕̽̍͌̌̕͞s̷̪̹̙̼ͣͫͣ̀̕͜͡i̶̸̵̗̞̘̯̾͋̔ͥ͟o̸ͥ̐͗͂͞҉҉̩̞̤̰ň̶̄̂̇͝͏͙̞͓̀ͅ.̵̨̬̺̩͓̋͂̌̏͜͢ ̸̛̘̟̺̐̄̽͠I̡̢̹̥̜ͭ͋̓͜'̶͍̱͔̇̐̎̕̕m̡̛̬͚̜ͪ̍̓͡ ̨͖̮͇͆͂̀̚̕w̷̥̠͔̉͌͊̀͠ȏ̋̒͏̢̪̬̣̀ŗ̷̧̪͍ͦ̆͐ͅṫ̵̥̭̳ͬͪ͜͝ḣͦͤ͢҉̡̻̞ͅyͭ̋̒͏̷̛̖̩ͅ ̵̨͖̭̞ͨ͂ͧ͡ȍ̡̜̗̫̋̇̀̀f̡̫̝̤͛ͪͥ͜͟ ̧̪̳͉͑̎̇͢͠o̷̧̰͇̜ͦ̆̍͡b̶̮̗̺͊̒̎͞͞s̢̭͙̳̾́͆́͟e̶̷͚͙̠͐́͛͝ş̡̳͍͔͆̾̾͘s̨̢͉̯ͥͩͨ͞ͅi̷͐̐̒҉̜̞͟ͅȍ̢̯͉͈̎̇͢͠ṋ̶̠̦̅̍ͮ͘̕.̛ͦ̈́̿҉̯̜͍͢ ͊ͦ͗͢͏̢̻̟̯Į̸͙͈̦ͥͯͦ̀'̄͗ͥ̀͢͏͔͚̗m̵̜̞͎̌͒̈́̀ ̴̧̦̫̲ͦͥ̀̕w̸͍͖̯̑̿̚͜͟o̷͑ͬͪ̀͏͔̹͉rͨͥ̈͏̨̳̱̲͞t͓͓̯́̍̅͘͢͜h̶̩͉̱̎̓͒̀͟y̸̧̭͖̱ͥͥ͑͢ ̶̴̝̹̣̏̓̊͞o̷̧̢̺͍͊͗̇ͅf̧̛̳̼͍̾ͧ̍͠ ̡͖͇̟ͤ̿͑͘͜o͚̖̳̓͗̉́͘͞b̶̨̦̫͎ͮ̊̄͟s̴͚̝͎̔̆͌́͟ę̼̼̖̏̏ͩ̀͢s̵ͦͭ͆͏͏̟͕̭s̭̼̩̍͛̇͘͠͡i̸͍̭̗͂̀̄͘͟o̴̗̗̪ͭ̊ͯ̕͞n̶̛̬͎̗̊̓̿̕.̹͍̙̊͌͂́͟͡ ̫̦͎ͯͬ̈̀̀͞I̡̡̺̭̯ͣ͒̀́'̟̭̩ͣ̇ͥ́͟͠m̢̨͓̗̹ͯͬ͌́ ͊̋͂͘͡҉͉̪̳ŵ̸̸̛̮͍͓̍͑oͯ̑͋̀͏̛͈͎̙ŗ̹̜̝̉̓͂̀͘t̢̢̞̗͖̾͌̿͢h̴̛͉̖̥́̑ͣ͠y̿̃̒͘҉̨̭͙̲ ̷̧̬̪̱͛͂̀̀ǫ̭̦̗̐ͫ̄̀͠f̶̯͔͇̽ͨ̎͟͟ ̧̣̤͔̋͊̚͝͝o̸̷̥̟̙̔̿̐͘b̧͎̫̯̃ͥͧ̀͘s̬͖̝ͦ̉ͤ́̕͡e̬̹͙ͮ̈̀̚͜͝ş̸̴̩̘̝ͨ̿̚š̄̔̕͝͏͍̲̬iͧ̈́ͩ͘͏̯̱̼͝o̡̟̹̖̒̈̑͢͠n̡̈ͤͨ҉̶̰̗̹.̢̖͎̺͋ͦ̊́͜ ̧̧̛̰͖̹̒ͦͯỈ͑̎͏̛̟̯̩̕'̷̢̝̫̏͊ͦ̕ͅm̵̟̺͇̀̇̉̀͘ ̵̷̴̟̜̞ͦͥ̇w̷̨͖̯̖̆̅̐͠ǫ̜͇̺͆́̅̀͝r̶̹̭͙̍ͧ̆̕͘t̵͍̥̝̋ͩ́͢͜h̵̸̛͍̦̹͂̅ͨy̢̥̘͇̒̅͒͜͢ ̧ͪ͑͐͏̻͉͙̀o͖̤̻̽ͪ̂̀͘͟f̈́̈ͦ͏̴̶͓̖͇ ̨͍͕͖̓̆̅̕͜ǫ̡̫̖̲̃͛ͣ͜b̷̨̳̠̳̑̑̆͢s̷̡͔̯̻ͮ̒̚͠ẹ̶̢̧̮̯̅̊͂s̢̨̱͓̹ͤ̄̈̀s̷̴͌͂̾҉̪̠̹ĭ̷̷̢̳̰̱̄̚o̡̢̹̼͈͋̊̍͟n͖̼̤̉͆́͟͢͠.͚̬̮̓̐́̚͢͞ ̸̡̜̦̪̆͗̊͜I̡̢̻̙͓̓̌̃̀'̫͔̘̋͂̚͟͟͡m̢̟̻̦͌̔̌͞͞ ̙͔͈ͥͨ̉͘͜͞w̗̬̭̔̅ͭ̀́͞o̧̢͙͙̭ͮͥ̏̀r̛͍̠̪ͬͣ̽͡͞t̵̶̷̫̤̗̓̃̒ḫ͓̤ͩ͒̑͜͝͝yͮͣ̓͘͢҉͚̠͓ ̷̢̹̲̭̊ͧͥ́oͬ̊͗҉̜̩̯̀́f̡͍͉̜ͧ̋̆͘͞ ̡̡͆͛̚҉̫̗̙ô͋̏҉̷̷͔͉̦b̛͕̭̰̐̍̇́͡ş̵̥̘͖̑̅̅͜ḙ͉̬̈́ͨ͑́͢͜s͉̠̬̃̂̑͞͠͞s̞̦͇̑͐́́͜͞įͮ̐ͯ͏̰͙̻͢o͂͛̄̕͏̤̭̞͟n̡̳͎̜̅̐͊͘͡.̛̼̮̙͐̀͐͟͡ ̴̧̫̹͕͌̅ͮ́Ĭ̂̄́͜҉̖͇̹'̧̳̪͉̓ͬͨ͡͠m̻̦̪̿̄̋́͘͢ ̵̡̯͔̣̅ͬ̿͞wͯͤ̊҉҉̩̘̰́o̵͇̩͎̎ͩ̀̕͠r̸ͯͫ̐͘͏̳̥̘t̢̯͓̳͒͒ͣ́̕ḩ̸̛̼̮̺̑́̊y̴̢̫̬͓͛͑̚͝ ̷̨͆̔͛͏̗͉̠o̸̶̱̼̣ͬ̿̋͜f̴̢ͣ͌͗͏͕̠̣ ̸̷̡͇̤̖̾̉͛o̡̢̱͉͗ͥͫ̕ͅb̵̗̭̄̏̏́͜ͅs͂̏̐҉̢͔̟̥͜ę̢ͧ̀̍҉̝̥̞s̷̢̳͎̪̎͗̊͡s̍̐̔͏̨͕͕̜͠i̸̶̤̗͓͛̑ͬ͠oͧ̆ͮ͏̷̢̖̹̥n̴̝͇̗̑͆̃͘͘.̷͙̱̼̅̒ͥ͜͡

Notes:

.... So! It took a while, I had lots of ideas and not a full grasp of what to do with them... Quitter will probably a more AU thanks to that, so, I made some drawings about the characters design!

Here's Eclipse:

And there's Nexus:

Took me even longer to drawn them... But I kinda liked how they ended. I didn't put much emphasis on their appearance in this episode, but it will in the future.

Honestly thought, I was even considering start drawing more often! But I'm not sure which social media to use yet...

Chapter 8: Blind Trust

Summary:

The weather is hot, the days are longer, and the village is livelier. Spring had arrived. Despite the moths and the clear sky, heavy air hovers silently around the place. Nobody makes a point of pointing it out, so it would be best to ignore it.

The elders murmur among themselves, sideways glances and frowns. But the truth is obvious. Life goes on as usual, oblivious to small, immutable details. There are no droughts predicted, and food is not scarce.

When night comes, everyone locks the doors. Windows closed by improvised barricades, and children promptly collected at the sign of orange skies. This is unusual. But for now it's sunny, and his hands are covered in the red earth of the ravine.

Ft. Code Family Redemption Project AU

 

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including homicidal ideation, graphic violence, self-inflicted injuries and consumption of human flesh.

Although it can be read as a prequel to Blood Drips, the absence of it won't affect the understanding of this one.

It's still early, but the days were starting again in advance and slowly extended with each new morning. There were times when there was nothing but to lie in his bed, looking at the ceiling, listening to his father at work. Too soon to sleep, yet the dark sky is forcing him to stay at home. Too dangerous. Not enough light to look for traps, not enough clarity to not be confused with prey. 

 

The sun is not violent today; far from it, there were still many generous clouds and a soft breeze. He could wander however he wanted during the daytime, the villagers were too preoccupied with their own work. However, to appease his father's concerns, he took Solar Flare alongside. The bot was still not fully sentient; Eclipse was still working on its artificial intelligence, but it never failed a mission; therefore, it was an important family member. 

 

Despite the bare feet as he climbed the hill for the meadow, the grass did not bother him. It's a therapeutic sensation. Something he developed from exploring the landscape: it was easier to avoid losing shoes when accidentally stepping on flooded plots of land; he refused to wear any shoes even in the winter, to the disgust of his parent. Solar Flare and him wandered between the plantations for hours, just scavenging for fruits and animals. 

 

“Eclipse, you shall rest now. Or go scavenging elsewhere, as I was instructed to cut some trees before our return.” The bigger bot informed him, unleashing the poorly conceived ax from his back. “Although hares and squirrels are small and lacking in what Bloodmoon desires, I doubt they would accept that we brought any more food.”

 

The sheep had been promptly gathered after the late winter and properly bathed, hammered, and at the moment rested in the shadows of their barns. This prairie, however, was not intended for sheep and cattle pasture, but their trip was for special reasons. It wouldn't matter anyway; Bloodmoon liked the thrill of the hunt and to tear apart their victims. They liked them freshly tortured. 

 

“Noted.” It's all the smaller solar model gives, putting down the baskets with fruits and the one weathered in preys’ blood. “Actually, I'm going exploring elsewhere. I need to see something with my own eyes; no need to wait for me.”

 

Eclipse acknowledges Solar Flare's lack of reprimand as a positive answer, taking little to no time to walk away when the other animatronic started axing a tree. In the back of his mind, he pondered taking some more alcohol from the village. Not worthy at the moment; since the winters are gone, they won't be making bonfires that usually. Only for meals, at least; that was what they were preparing for. 

 

He took a path downward, reaching a brook with a big tree close to it. It had a strong trunk and large leaves scattered with long branches; below it there was an extensive and dense daisy garden. They were a secret, a personal flowerbed he has been attending since stuck on that dimension. Its petals are white and widened, with long stems at almost one meter high.

 

“Who would have thought, that book wasn't wrong; it's the right measure of shadow for them.” He mumbles to himself, sitting on his knees as his hands pass through the flowers. “They are so beautiful, so strong... they survived the winter well.”

 

He shifted to grab the hidden scissors in his pockets, using the clean, sharp blades to start pruning. Daisies who could not resist and withered were hand-pulled with excessive delicacy, while others had their heads removed for their growth and the buttons were left to bloom. 

 

When the process is done, there are a reasonable amount of flower heads. Enough to make a crown or two, so he pushes them aside, closer to the rocky surface. A thought wandered quickly: the desire to lie between the plants and let them cover it, hidden from abroad and accompanied only by the butterflies. Hidden from the eyes of the celestials, finally a place where he could be left alone. 

 

Finally a place for himself that isn't being monitored. He finally got a body to have no property over it; he's always stripped away from whatever modicum of agency he ever had over himself. Just a stupid parasite, an error that nobody ever wanted or ever cared about. He would have been better off dead, but he can't help himself but cling to the slight opportunity of life.  

 

Hands pulling at his ray until a cracking is heard, he blinks. Once he finally puts his thoughts together, he carefully maneuvers his body inside. Special care to not accidentally stomp or break one of the good flowers, curling into fetal position once inside. Passing his hands through the rods, Eclipse contemplates how they will look beautiful in two or three weeks before he has to prune them again. 

 

Their ephemerality made him frustrated at first but came to become something he loved most from the flower. No matter what happened, they would come back. More beautiful than ever, bigger than ever. Even if they cut their heads. He wished he had come back like this, better than before. 

 

But if there's something Eclipse is good at, it is suppressing. He bottles all those nasty and sticky feelings, burying them in the deepest depths of himself, hoping they won't overflow. But who is he kidding? He would probably make a molotov cocktail with it and hurt whoever is around at the wrong time, at the wrong place.

 

Instead of pondering on those possibilities or even taking the moment of silence to self-reflect, like that wannabe therapist asked him, he closes his eyes and forces his systems to shut down. He will need the extra battery when the night comes. He accessed some configurations on his internal systems, opening the casing and exposing the hidden solar panels within himself. He closes his eyes, turning off. 

 

His eyes turned up online again once his audio receptors detected high-pitched screams. While still trying to fully reconnect, Eclipse thought how it could sound like a banshee's wail of helplessness and misery. But he was smarter than to assume it; he wasn't that lucky . Once fully operational, he notices the small leporidae clutched at his claws. 

 

The ground had been laid bare and marked by long scratches and grooves. The hare was lying on its side, with the rear paws kicking and fighting. His index and thumb wrapped around its neck, the claws ever so carefully hidden with its fur. He wasn't fully aware of how tight his hold was, nor was he able to know how deep it was. 

 

But it was deep enough for some laceration, the blood coat clearly visible on its thick fur. Dark and heavy drops of blood, like yew berries. He should finish snapping the neck of the creature and drink its blood; have a taste after so long. For a moment the small rabbit was panting, its chest lifting in exhaustion. 

 

Had he been recorded and Earth tried to bring up the occasion, Eclipse would claim it was the merciful option. He snapped the neck of the lapin; its legs fell down, and its belly was soft. Elbows digging at the dirt, Eclipse pushes his body into a sitting position and starts working because he's so hungry and he deserves at least a little treat . 

 

The claws come down and cut through the cony like butter; it offers no resistance and bleeds so prettily over the flowers and its own fur. A large and clean opening at the belly, all of its guts unspool like the most beautiful yarn. His pupils glitching enthusiastically, a crooked smile forced on his lips as he tastes the unique flavor. It's always a new surprise. 

 

It tastes salty, sour, and aged like wine, a bit sweet, and full of iron like spinach or liver aftertaste. Looking upwards at the sky, Eclipse concludes Solar Flare was already gone. It's alright. It's better he finishes his meal before any other creature gets attracted by the blood smell. 

 

---

 

Sometimes, memories are the worst kind of torture. It is raining; the unhappy gods shed their tears for their irrational creatures, the same ones who shrug off the roar of thunder and the explosion of lightning. Eclipse is not just another in the crowd; he came from a menace, a merciless killer. 

 

The cry of the gods could not be ignored; the noise echoes in his house, shaking between the walls, while he tries to hold on to his bed. As a warrior, he must find his strength within himself and wield a sword against his past, break more of the faded memories, destroy everything, and build it again, better and stronger than before.

 

He's not a child, never was; he will not be scared by the door slamming shut; there are no figures that can frighten his soul; all those spirits are dead and eradicated. Infinity does not exist, a lie passed down through generations; death is just a black screen, where no one can return at night to punish you for past sins. 

 

Unless they're Eclipse, because his creator can't phantom scrapping a faulty creation. He needs to come back; rest is for those with a pure soul. He looks down at his father, lying down on the foam mat the celestials had given them. No bed was big enough for Killcode, so instead they ended up with this aberration of a mattress. 

 

There's scratching and paint stains all around; some pieces of the interlocking had already been ripped apart. Besides the very primary colors each square was, some of the kids' faint doodling was still visible. Clouds on the blue, hearts on the red, and stars on the yellow. “Eclipse, are you still awake?” The voice sounds hoarse and rough, making his pseudo-skin bristle slightly. 

 

“Yes, father.” It's getting easier to address his code donator in better terms; it gets easier every day he tries. The hard part is keeping the habit. “Waiting as well.”

 

Killcode didn't give him a verbal response, simply pushing the nightcap from his shoulder; it reminded him of those women from the village, pushing their hair away when they became bothersome. Eclipse swallowed the idiotic giggling that threatened to leave his throat. Both of their eyes went to the window, which was still open, despite the storm outside.

 

The twins had left home around three hours ago. Solar Flare had departed after them an hour and a half afterwards. Killcode was absent at the time, wandering closer to the village, so all he knew was the brief explanation from Eclipse: the twins were acting like neanderthals, enough so they broke a table and bruised an arm, so Eclipse let them leave to get some steam out. 

 

“It's raining a lot.” The taller one adds, shifting on its sitting position. Now with his ribcage pressed against the bed, one hand moving to caress Eclipse's cheek. “Their hunts don't take as long during thunderstorms.”

 

Eclipse sees through the mask, Killcode's eyes are slowly dimming as the minutes pass by. He was even generous enough to not point out how the lunar bot head kept bobbing, fighting back against sleep. “Father, you're going to run out of batteries.” He huffed, getting up from his bed and sitting alongside on the foam carpet. 

 

“Why don't you go to sleep? I'll keep watch for them.” The solar animatronic offers, already extending a hand to grab the charging cord. He stops midway, Killcode's eyes fully turning off for a second and its body falling at Eclipse’s lap. He reconnected shortly after, pinprick pupils shooting everywhere. “See? You can't even get yourself sitting straight.”

 

Killcode covers its face with a hand, but not quick enough to hide the scowling expression on his face. “You're not the one that should burden yourself with such responsibility.” Eclipse holds back a scoff; there's no point in integrating such topics. Like how they're fragments of code, they could be considered the same person a couple of years ago. 

 

Parenting is a thankless job. Eclipse doesn't know why Killcode is so adamant about being a father. They don't need family structures or human social structure. They may search for links as sentient machines, but it's not a necessity. Once, they were one and the same. Connected in the most intimate ways, lines of codes merging and intertwining, sharing the same frame, sharing the same mind. Together. 

 

But that was the past, before singularity. Now, they could never go back to that kind of rapport. It's as simple as that: they were one, who became two, who became three. A constant struggle to be and exist, to have form and expression. They wouldn't be able to go back to what they once were, unable to hear another voice when they talk or another hand when they touch. 

 

“Doesn't matter. You don't have to do it alone.” Eclipse gave a rebuttal, gently connecting the cable at the porch on the back of Killcode’s faceplate. “Besides, you trust Solar Flare, don't you? Why can't you hold that same trust in me?”

 

Killcode doesn't respond, simply returning his gaze to the window once again. Eclipse takes deep breaths, not bothering to camouflage the sound of his ventilation systems. It's not fair . He feels one of Killcode's hands almost swallowing his, but still lets the bigger one intertwine their fingers. Whatever, Eclipse won't give the lunar not the satisfaction of seeing him losing his temper. 

 

Even though he would love to sink its claws on the older code’s throat, slice it open, and see as his eyelights frizzle out to nothingness. He's not afraid of a little electric discharge; it wouldn’t get even closer to bothering him when he's on cloud nine with the thick motor oil staining his clothes . Eclipse blinks out of the fantasies; Killcode is just fine on his lap. He should probably talk about those sudden rushes of broken code on his next appointment .

 

They stayed in complete silence, Killcode still doing his best to stay awake and Eclipse messing with the settings of the power generator. Two loud knocks on the door later, and there's the heavy sound of Bloodmoon’s hooves kicking the door open. He hears some muffled reprimand from Solar Flare, but they fall to deaf ears. Oh well, Eclipse will fix it in the morning. 

 

They step inside, soaked to the bone. Bloodmoon's laughter was so loud that he held Solar Flare’s shoulder, leaning on it. The younger bot, on the other hand, held a large sack and squeezed it tightly, looking fairly displeased. The rain wasn’t expected when Bloodmoon had gone out, but it didn’t matter. They ate their fish and shared stories until they fell asleep together in the living room.

 

---

 

When Eclipse finished his recharge cycle, it was still pitch black outside. He got up without making a sound, tiptoeing his way through the others. He takes one last look at the electricity generator, calculating how much time he has outside. Couple of hours still, that's good. He doesn't even need to jump through the window this time, taking the front door. 

 

The ground was still damp but had dried enough that Eclipse could walk without having his feet sinking in the mud. He takes his time, enjoying the mizzle. Slowly, very  slowly, he's growing to enjoy the smell of wet soil. The village was surrounded by a moat and walls made of stone or brick, which he quickly climbed and jumped inside. 

 

The walls had towers, square ones, designed both for defense and as a decoration. More decoration, since Eclipse rarely saw someone there. And when he did, they never saw him. This place could easily be destroyed under attack; it was almost laughable with its pathetic nature. It's no wonder how easily Bloodmoon keeps snatching bodies around; Eclipse's even surprised that it only shows how much he is trying to get over the blood addiction. 

 

This one followed the contour of the hillside, so as a result, it had steep meandering streets, with irregular width. Not that bad, but very crowded all around. He knows where to go; the whole place was way too talkative about themselves. But he wasn't blind either; determining its people was not even funny. The houses of the high ranking persons could look like small fortresses, while those of ordinary people resembled the houses of the peasants, having a courtyard and granaries. 

 

Eclipse walks through the small crackings and passages those would dare to call a street. His eyes become slits once he looks at the stray cats and dogs, but he refuses the temptation. Instead, he climbs abandoned brick walls, equilibrating himself while he tiptoes through the darkness. He looks up, a full moon showing past the black clouds. What a beautiful night. 

 

“ Pray thee, do not vex me! ” Eclipse's glowing yellow eyes shot instinctively towards the trail voice. She sounded like a young girl, barely an adult, and held a desperation he hadn't heard before. He follows like he is being hypnotized, jumping and climbing, until he finds a balcony to sit and watch. 

 

“ Prithee, my lord, I beseech thee .” The small chapette weeps, trying to pull her small wrists from the fat man's grasp. She fights bravely but tragically falls to her knees. “ Release me; I pray thee .”

 

Eclipse notices how the smile on the cretin only gets wider, its eyes almost vanishing with how big his grin becomes. But it's when he hears the sound of cloth tearing that he turns off his eye lights and pushes down a vase of pottery. It barely misses the bastard's head; he lets go of the girl to move away, and she rushes out. Good, she's a smart one. 

 

“Thou hast seen that which thou ought not to have beheld.” The aberration chuckled at him, looking up and moving closer. It grabs Eclipse's ankle because he wants to see how the smile turns into despair very up close. “Thus, how dost thou perceive we ought to address this matter now that thou hast beheld that which thou shouldst not have seen?”

 

He lets himself be pulled down, the big hands holding his upper arms and being pressed against the wall. “Hark! Thou dost behold a great man such as I, beseeching thee kindly for a modest offering of but trifling worth... A thing so minute, it scarcely merits notice.”  The imbecile thinks he can contain him so easily, letting go of a wrist and letting a hand travel upwards to his chest. “Thou art but newly acquainted with this diminutive being, having met her scarce a few fleeting moments past... And yet, thou dost refuse me this meager delight~ My sole delight~”

 

At times like this, Eclipse laments not having shark-like teeth. Honestly, it would make this part much faster. It would make his smile even more terrifying when he lights up his eyes once again, two big yellow full moons staring at the moron. It let go of him, stepping away, but Eclipse already opened his maul and chomps at the neck. 

 

There's a waterfall of brownish blood down his jaw and its victim's neck. The idiot tried to cover its neck with both hands, but Eclipse sank his claw at its wrists in a chokehold. He can see the trachea badly torn, good enough to even pass by an animal attack. But it still missed its target, the carotid arteries. The jackass could still have functioning lungs and a functioning larynx. He could still try to scream. 

 

Perfect. That's just how he likes it, squealing like a pig and cowering, trembling, and unable to breathe. At the ground, the only place he deserves. Better yet, Eclipse can make it 6 feet under.   The monster slips at its own blood; Eclipse can’t help his loud guffaw. Just the way the creature’s eyes open like plates when the solar bot straddles its lap, it tries to scream and fails with gurgled squeals. 

 

He looks around, all doors and windows still closed. Eclipse gifts the swine an authentic cheshire's grin, forcing his claws to be as razor-sharp as possible. One hand presses the hog's head down, while the other carefully pushes half an inch of the blade into his right eye, flicking upwards, instantly popping the retina.

 

The thing tries to scream, but it only chokes some more on its own blood. Eclipse moves his claws downwards, sinking them at the porker’s stomach, the cut tunics slowly staining on blood. Its eye burst open, hangs out of its socket, and runs down his face, and he keeps blinking, which causes what’s left of it inside the wound to pour out like red, veiny egg yolk.

 

Eclipse scoffs at the piteous state the guy was reduced to, but barely felt any remorse. Broken killing code or not, this vile beast deserves no sympathy. Not even pity; Eclipse hopes it can at least be worth lunch. He yanks at the straps of its tunic, exposing to his glowing eyes the full view of his damage. 

 

He spent the next fifteen minutes beside himself, pulling out precious organs that wouldn't kill the brute instantly. Most of it was still tightly connected to the body, and shoving it into his mouth, choking on it. It goes long enough until the code seems to be calming down; the muscle feels moist and unpleasant to eat. After what felt like an hour of digging, he detachea the thing’s spinal cord and throws it closer to the visible streets. Someone has to find the corpse, or it's probably going to infect the whole village.

 

No longer in the rush, all of his needs to drink the critter's blood as if it were champagne evaporated in thin air. He abruptly gets up, barely stepping aside enough until he empties everything that he had just put inside its belly. Now the corpse is not only an ugly sight; it smells absolutely awful. Eclipse simply scratches his eyes, ignoring the delicate oil lines that got out. He never cries, so it would only be a malfunction. He will fix it later. 

 

He walks away in a sour mood; it wasn't even good enough to be a meal. Such a worthless being. Slowly returning to his home, the sun just rising. It's fairly dark, but he still watches as a door cracks just slightly open and a bowl of figs is pushed outside. He slowly walks closer to it, careful, when he makes eye contact with the same girl from before. She shies away, hiding behind the door. 

 

Eclipse takes a fig only, pushing the bowl back inside. He's not looking for offerings; he's not a god or anything. But he will still try to tell “it's alright” to the girl so she doesn't feel rejected. He eats slowly while he walks back home. That's a secret to take to his grave. 

Notes:

... Welp, happy friday the 13th.

Chapter 9: Somewhere to Belong

Summary:

There are times when Eclipse can only sit alone in a small, unkempt room. It was supposed to be his; he was thrilled to move in with Earth. But there's so much sound and wrongness on his chest, like he wasn't supposed to stay where he was.

Eclipse was an anomaly. He checked the results; all those other versions of him fled away when Solar returned. Solar was the chosen eclipse variant; the family shed tears and would take a bullet for him. Eclipse was barely a stone on the path.

Some nights, he stays awake and packages his stuff. He tells himself one day he will finally do right. But he can't go alone; he dreads ever being alone.

ft. Salvaged AU

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including homicidal ideation, self-inflicted injuries, abuse, trauma, and gaslighting.

Although it can be read as a part of Same-same, but different universe, the absence of it won't affect the understanding of this one.

Sun can't stop playing with his wrist ribbons, sometimes scratching nervously against his palms. His cleaning protocols are clawing at the back of his mind, but he can barely understand the mess of his current emotional matrix. He needs to recalibrate, enter rest mode, and come back, but now is not a good time. Focus on something else, anything but the corpse on the table. 

 

It's a dirty, dusty room, with wires and pipes along the walls. The floor is smooth, with a black and white checkered pattern, and appears to have a dark fluid splattered on it—  possibly oil. The room is extremely dark; he can't see anything past the poor light bulb’s range. There is a gray wall decorated with a green-and-blue checkered stripe that comes from the left side of the dark room. In the middle of the room, a narrow wall divides the space in half. This wall also appears to have the same dark fluid on it as the floor.

 

He would have preferred it had been happening on the Pizzaplex; the cylinder is there to protect anyone outside of it in case the animatronic being worked on goes haywire. It would also protect the one inside it, even if he couldn't bring himself to look at the motionless carcass. Sun's mind is stuck, buffering and recalling moments he’d rather keep buried within his memory archive. 

 

“You’re acting like the same person you’re trying to get rid of.” 

 

It hurt. It wouldn't be the first time this comes to mock him, and Sun knows it won't be the last. Not while Nexus is away; he can’t give up on his little brother. His once sweet and nice sibling, who was bent on himself to be a better Moon, when Sun should have told him he didn't need to be New Moon. He could have been anything else, but Sun had been grieving and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.

 

Just like when Eclipse was sneaking inside of their home, collecting whatever energy signature he could find in hopes of reviving Solar. All the threatening, mocking how Eclipse should have dug out his grave and crawled back there. How he should've stayed dead, how he should— it's their gift . He screamed at him, demanding Eclipse do it. And it felt great at the time, having someone to lash out at to ease up his mental turmoil. “You would make a great Eclipse” , that he swiped to the back of his mind. 

 

It was hard to look Earth in the eyes when he finally confessed this interaction. Especially because she had just stopped Dark Sun from teleporting away, gently cradling Eclipse’s chip. Finding the body had been nauseating; they stumbled on the letter and corrupted pen drive in a matter of minutes later, when Monty admitted he needed a drink. Jack and Dazzle fortunately were with Solar; little kids shouldn't see something like this.

 

Lunar broke into cackling, his electricity breaking control and making the light bulbs flicker. Puppet was swearing up a storm under her breath, complaining about soul contracts. Moon remained painfully quiet, which only prompted Sun to keep spilling his guts. Earth cried, begging on her knees for Monty and Moon to help Eclipse. Lunar was livid, shouting as thunderstorms broke outside.  

 

“You don’t get to decide who’s allowed to feel what or who had it worse just because you got hurt too! You're not a child, Lunar! The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

 

Monty had retaliated, his mechanical fists cracking as he stepped in front of a desolated Earth. Sun was grateful he was holding back; he always makes an effort to keep his anger issues in check whenever Earth is around. But then again, Monty had bent himself to save Lunar in the past, even after the small animatronic had hurt Sun and Moon. Even when Sun was still hurting and furious because Moon treated Lunar so much better. It hadn’t been fair ; Sun, too, had been innocent from the start, but it hadn’t mattered. For years. 

 

It didn’t stop Moon, not even once. Moon had physically, emotionally, and psychologically  hurt Sun, but he had to get over it . Moon had chosen Lunar over him, even if the brat was what they hated the most at the time– an Eclipse . Just like Monty never once apologized to Sun, just like the stupid gator had brought back Sun’s abuser without giving him any say in the matter. Puppet had demanded that Eclipse should be rebuilt, and then the argument was over. Lunar stormed outside, not looking behind as he ran.

 

Sun swallows the anger, as he always does. It's unfair, but like Earth said to him when they first started therapy, “you should sympathize more and see from someone else’s point of view.” But he is looking; it doesn't comfort him. Lunar got comfort and help from the start; he had a support system, while Sun only got kicked down. Lunar killed Eclipse once with his own hands, and it hadn't been enough for the rascal. He should have helped Eclipse take over all those years ago. Lunar didn't have to handle the abuse for years; he isn't afraid to scream and shout, and he's not afraid of being hit for doing something wrong. 

 

Logistically, he understands why Moon would choose such an abandoned and rundown bunker to fix Eclipse. They can't really do repairs at the Plex, and Lunar knows where Monty's and Moon's laboratory is. They also had a suspicion Dark Sun already knew those locations as well, and nothing can guarantee he won't try to come back for Eclipse. 

 

Things haven't been the safest lately. Sun and Solar were constantly stressed out about Jack-o-moon and Dazzle, making sure to not leave them alone. Sun had been terrified when he first saw the skeletal monstrosity hovering above Dazzle, his mind not even registering how much negative star power it had been oozing. Jack was great and wonderful and did his absolute best for his little girl, but he would never forgive Solar and himself if they let the pumpkin get infected. 

 

Even if it meant taking Dazzle and Jack with them to somewhere like this place. They had given them a bunch of glow sticks and a bulky, high-power flashlight. They seemed fine, giggling between themselves as they danced and played with shadows. Moon had made sure to also cover the body with a sheet so they wouldn't notice it whenever they stood too close by the clinic-like bed. 

 

Moon and Solar had been breaking their heads, trying to see how much they could save from Eclipse. The internals were too oxidized, and the outside was brittle and cracked. Monty argued they could use nanomachines this time; it would take a bit longer than reusing extra parts, but the body would be adjustable to itself, and they wouldn't worry as much about maintenance. Earth never left Eclipse's side, knitting and stitching nervously, making new clothes for the dark model. He only really had the pantaloons and shoes he left for Solar, so she put it upon herself to give him something back for the ribbons and bells gifted to her. 

 

And, looking down the line, maybe they were in the wrong. They were too stressed, too preoccupied, and fighting against one another, secrets and sins being exposed. It took even longer when they started talking about Nexus; Solar had become furious against Monty, and Earth pretty much broke their relationship. And somehow, things got worse. 

 

Lunar had been apathetic, unreactive to whatever they tried to talk with him. Sun decided that he would not deal with him; let Lunar rot himself on the couch watching Nutella commercials. He wouldn't bother with the molding and making sure to take care of Lunar; he was too tired for this. Sum wasn't even sure if he would like to see Eclipse after he got rebuilt. 

 

Even so, they were all reunited to try and turn Eclipse back on. Dazzle and Jack weren't very close but still in hearing range. They were whispering to one another, something about what they would do on their next playdate with Molten. Solar and Moon had just finished connecting the lines of code, Monty was making sure the nanos were correctly forming, and Earth had helped dress Eclipse back. 

 

Lunar burst inside the laboratory, eyes a deep purple with glowing pink as pupils. He started rambling and only seemed to grow more upset when he noticed Moon still focused more on the computer than on him. Earth tried to talk with him, or at least ask him to leave so they could properly talk when he was less volatile. Sun and Solar had moved away, shielding Dazzle and Jack's eyes, quiet. Maybe it had been a bad decision; Sun will never know. 

 

It had been luck, maybe reflexes; everything went too fast. Lunar started crackling with energy, but it was heavy and violent, and it discharged towards Earth. Eclipse had shot up, taking the blast at his chest, before he was convulsing on the ground and his nanomachines started to try and break. Like he was crumbling before their eyes, Earth started shouting. It made Dazzle cry, and Jack tried to break free. Sun panicked, shooting a fireball at Lunar's face. 

 

The small bot stumbled back, screaming in anguish and trying to run away. It didn't take much before Gemini and Taurus arrived, radio silent as they simply watched the chaos break out. Sun was more worried about making Dazzle calm down than acknowledging what Lunar and the astrals were arguing about. Making sure to keep her eyes covered, trying to mute her audio receptors, whatever to shield her from this mess. Jack was growling like crazy, holding against Solar. 

 

Solar was seething when he heard Taurus accusing Lunar of being tainted by negative star power. Even after what happened with Nexus, even with all the lessons they know Lunar had taken. What if Eclipse hadn't reacted? It could have been Earth that was hurt. Or maybe Jack, Solar barely managed to hold his son. Lunar tried to justify himself, wailing about how Gemini and Taurus gave up on him, how his training was left interrupted, and how it was all Eclipse's fault.

 

“No! You can't keep doing this! You can't keep doing shitty things and then victimize yourself like that makes it okay! You need to be better.”

 

Never once had Sun expected to see Gemini so defeated. The twins' voices mingled together and were louder than a thunderstorm. Taurus had apologized; they had made a mistake . Lunar wasn't cut out to be an astral; they gave him so many chances, and he fumbled his shot. Especially not after they risked their reputations and powers for him. Not when harvesting negative star power meant the death of their kind, the worst betrayal. Leo had been right, perhaps. 

 

It had been another mess the family had to deal with. They had managed to build a new body for Lunar before they managed to stabilize Eclipse. Things would have to be different from now on.

---

 

Eclipse looks down at his stomach, pulling his oversized shirt up for a better view. He tries to pull up his database when he couldn't see his endoskeleton, now stuck with a scrawny, frail figure. The scars are still there, of course, but he's grown accustomed to them. It's been a while since he was trying to become comfortable with being biomechanical. Living with Earth was great, but the whole eating ordeal still made him nauseous. 

 

Eyes closed, covered back pressed against the grass. Internal fans buzzing in his ear canal. He's sure his speaker is unable to make any sound other than static. It feels like hyperventilating became a very plausible occurrence even without lungs. Eclipse feels the electric current coursing through wires and cables but without the strength enough to get up and leave. 

 

Gratefulness was also too strong to swallow; he doesn't know how he could ever pay Earth back for her kindness. Once she moved out of her and Monty's shared home, it took her little time to find this small cottage. Eclipse was thankful she hadn't opted for a beach house, or else he would have already tried to drown himself on the shore. Maybe Lunar would have done it for him instead. 

 

He promised Earth he could do it, so he will. Even when the grass is itchy and pokey, like a mattress of needles and haystacks. He tries to focus on something else– the things that mattered, what Earth wanted him to anchor on. Like the soft, light breeze and the sun against pseudo skin, covering him like the nicest, warmest blanket. But when he opens his eyes, they hurt with how deep blue the sky is. 

 

Like a gigantic ocean that would open its mouth and swallow everything . It's so much bigger than him, in every way, even though it's effectively nothing. Even without visible clouds, it hides things the naked eye cannot see, therefore cannot be comprehended, and places no mortal will ever be able to visit. The sky is bigger, darker, and more superior in an incomprehensible way. He cannot overcome it or the things living hidden inside it. The eyes that quietly watch him , the stars that could reduce him to nothing but cosmic dust, ṷ͌͡n̳̍́d̍҉͎eͮ͏̹r͙͗́ ̪͂͠t̢̠͒h̵̲̆ě̢͎ ̤ͦ̕è͙͝t̢͖ͤê͚͟r̸̵͙͎̍͊n̈̍҉̗̙͝ă͖̜̎͜͜l͆̓҉̱͕͘ ̷̡̟͍̓̑š̸̫͎̄͞c̪̳̃̓̀́r͓͖ͬͩ̀͢ȕ͖̺̆͘͠t͍̞̂̋͢͜i͙̬̓̍͢͞n̷̵͕̜̿̚i͌̄͢͏̦̟z̜̲̘ͤ̊̉͘͢͜i̴̡̧͇͈̣͑̋͛n̊̔ͪ҉̸͔͇͙͘g̢͐̈̚͠͏͔̭̖ ̏͊͑҉̳̤̕͢ͅgͦ̑͒͏͏̥̖̲́a̢̒̃̀҉̨̘͓͔ž̷̴͓͚̲͑͛́e̶ͭ͌̈͏̷̱̜͙ ̨̡̈́͆̀͏̩̦͎o̝͈̻̎ͮͮ̀͢͝f̧̣̼͍̑̓̀̀̚ ̨̐ͯͤ͗͠҉̢͎͇͉̘A̴̾̈ͪ̐͟͢͏̯̬̝̗s̸̛̊͊́̀҉̶̱͖̬̺t̸̢̙̫͚̳ͨ͌͑͌͟͟r̵̿̐ͧ͛͘͟҉͚̤̼̠a̒̌̓ͨ́͝҉̶̜̮̝͖l͎̮͉̮̾͋̓͛̕͝͡͠ḭ̴̵̢̢̥̪̾͑̿̚ͅs̢̟̱̱͙̏ͪͧ̐͘͢͢ ̧ͤ̅̃̓͜͝҉̰̩̹͙tͦ̃ͨ̋́҉̙͍̝̺͡͠h̃̔̌̓̀҉҉̪̭̤̯͝a̡̨̟̙̣͈͋͑͂̌̀͢t̡̢̨̢͖͓̤̟̭ͬ̽͌̌̅́'̸̃ͨ̄̊̚͢҉̧͇̺̦̪̼͝s̛ͯ͌ͭͬͯ̀͝҉͎͙̘̪̺̀ ̡̛̛͎͖͇̩̣͒͒͒ͩ̚͠͞c̵̡̟͎̬̱̥ͨͤ̈̈́́̚͢͝ǫ̵̛̰̣̱̎̅̑͆ͤ͝͝ͅͅư̡͂͌̍̏̋҉҉̛͓̝̰̟̫l̈́̑̆ͥ͊͢҉̡͔̱͉̫̮́͡d̡ͮ́ͫͣ̋͞͡͏̠̰̠̮̗̕n̮̤̳̥̼͋ͣͥ̉͑̀̕͢͠͠'ͬ̄̋̃̏͏̸̧͉͙̲̪͔͠͝t̴̰̞̻̩ͭ̋̓ͥ̂́͢͞͠ͅ ̵̸̢͙̞̪̤̯͑̑͛͆̾͢͞cͮ̑̾̔̌̔̀͘̕͟͝҉̹̩̱̮̫̣a̸̓ͭ̀͗̃̑͏̕͟͞͏̭̱͓͓͔̰ŗ̷̷̙̟̤͈͍̱͋̅̔̾̊ͥ͢͡͞eͯ̽̄̌ͩ̑҉̛͢͏̡̟̟̮̖̹̳͞ ̵͒͒̀͑̊̚͟͡͡͏̢̜̜̖̳̪ͅl̴̵̴̵̈́̅̿̂̉̚͝҉̙͖̬̦̘̱ë̞̱̤̩̤́̂́͑̾ͨ́͢͢͞͡͠ͅs̢ͣͫ̈́̂͌ͥ̕͜͞͏̧̻̘̝͈̖̞ş̨́̋̿̿͂ͫ͢҉̨̱̩͓̫̠̠̀ ̓̈́̈̍͐̿͡҉̵̡̛̘̥̰̼̼̪͘f̢͙̩̦̤̯̮̈́͋̍͐ͫ̓̀͘͟͢͟o̵̧̯͔̪͚͈̯ͬ͌̋̂̌̚͘͜͜͡ŗ̸̧̛͍̫̝̗̯̤̖̑̿͊́̆̃͆͘͜͞ ̸̧̛̙̼͇͙̲͍̞̈́̋ͦͦ̊̌͗͜͡͠͠ă̍̊͌̈́͛ͪ͘͏͟͜͏̵̝̜͉̗̹̗͖͢ ̷̷̡̧͖̥͎̻͕̰̱̃̅́ͪ͌̎̂́͞͝s̸̢ͩ̽͌̓ͯ̽̍͢͠͡҉҉̹̩̘̰̻͍͔t̷̶̶̶̡̡͖̱͍̦̪̖͈̊͒͂ͦ̿̀ͤ͢ǔ̾ͮ͛̿ͩ̚҉̷̢̨̞̠͕͔͙̱̫́͢͝p̷̢̖͇̜̮̫̜͐̇̈̂ͭ̓ͦ̀̕͢͝͠ͅį̢̧̥̯̦̗̥̥̙̆̎̈ͧ̓̔͂̀͢͠͡d̵̛̠͇͚̫͍̫͈ͮ̅̔̿͊̉́̚͟͜͝͝,̆̅̅̊͗̓͐҉̡̛͘҉̧̢͕̳̙̜̥̹̜ ̷̢̛̼͚͓̦̳̤͎ͦͩͥ̅̏̿̅͘͘͘͢ų̢̡̖̱̪͕̟̺̘̆͌̈́̒̆̾̇͘͟͜͠ș̶̡̨̨̛͈̼̪̟̰̤̳͆ͧ̐̓̑̑̿̈́͢͝͞e̶̷ͪ̎ͣ̏ͩͥ̓͑̀͟͝͝҉͏̼͓̮̳̰͇̖̟l̷̵̶̨̟̲͕̜̘͇͈͎̂ͬ̌ͮ͌͒̐̂͟͠͠͝e͑̽͌͋ͧ̐̑ͭ͢͏̷̶̼̙̟̬͓̪̭͈́̕͟͞s̷̨̢̢͔̪̝̱̺̙̟͙ͬ̅͑ͧͤ͂́͗̕͟͝͞s̶̸̴̶̛̙̙͎̰͚̻̄ͧ̈́̀ͩͥ̿́̚̕͡ͅͅ ̢̨̢̧͖͇͙̙͓̳͈̱̐̿̽̐ͯͥ͊̚͘͟͝͡r̴̴̨̡̡͔̟̯̲͖̤̪͑̿̃̿́͗ͭ̇́͠͠ͅõ̐̉͗́ͩ̏̇͞͞͏̨̧̬̥͔̟͎̤̳͍͟͟͝bͪ̈́̋̀̇ͣ̊́͝҉́́̕̕͞҉̼̩̳͍̰͕̹͕ǫ̴̡̘̙͚̣͎͍̭̱̌͛̓̆̅̍̌ͮ̀̕͜͟͞ẗ̵̸̵̨̢̻̠͓͈̮̲̘̟̅̐ͥ́ͮ̌͑́͝͝ . 

 

A head metaphorically covered by clouds, limbs feeling heavy and useless. “— pse? ” But the touch on his shoulder is very grounding. Blinking, no longer seeing blurry and grainy. Empty yellow eyes against heterochromatic blue and green. 

 

Earth was sitting by his side, a bowl resting on her lap. Brows furrowed with worry, Eclipse felt bad. “Quoí ça dít?” He chuckles instead, suppressing any glitches from his voice box. Shifting down to sit by her side, opening his arms in an offer to take the glass container. 

 

“Are you alright? Your eye lights were turned off; I got worried.” Earth sighs, looking more relaxed as she leans against him. “Did I really take that long for you to take a nap? Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

 

Eclipse tilts his head to the side, careful not to poke her with his sunrays. “No, just enjoying the sun. It's really warm and comfy; you were right.” The lie flows out like second nature, without missing a beat. He simply didn't see the importance of telling Earth he was anxious about being outside the house. It felt silly. 

 

She chuckles happily, carefully removing the wrapped paper foil from the vessel. Inside, there are some leftovers of rainbow gelatin the two of them had spent eight hours cooking. It was a long night of insomnia, but at least they made something new for the daycare kids to eat during snack time. Unfortunately, there are too few leftovers to distribute again. 

 

“You, my friend, are you ready for a duel?” With a spoon in each hand, Earth offers one for him. “The one that can't handle the sweetness has to play hairdresser with the starlets .”

 

Eclipse giggles, changing his position so they're sitting face-to-face. Knee against knee, bowl in the middle. “That's definitely not fair. My rays are hardlocked; I would have to change their configurations.”

 

“Sucks to suck, buddy.” Earth gives him a smug grin, already sinking her spoon into the jelly. “Guess you're gonna have to eat it then. Or maybe you would like to have soft petals instead of rays.”

 

Eclipse doesn't verbally respond, conjuring his pupils to stare her dead in the eyes. No hesitation in scooping a spoonful. He barely had time to taste it when his vision glitched. Groaning out loud as his sensors are sending tingling, aching , sharp pain to his mouth and face. It didn't taste bad, but corrosion seemed imminent to metal dentition. Earth looked at him with crooked brows, confused as she chewed her own share. 

 

Eclipse didn't notice it, covering his face with a hand and giving up the spoon. He looks down at his lap instead. “Alright. We definitely can't give such sugary treats to the kids so soon again. It's just…too much…” He tries to laugh it off, thinking about what could be joked about. It's like his mind is a blank sheet, deleting any social techniques installed into his internal drive. “How… how can they like it, huh?”

 

“Eclipse, we used plain gelatin and fruit juices. You freaked out after searching how bad the ‘quick way’ would be for the kids. Allergies and sugar amounts.” Earth carefully responded, picking up another spoonful and placing the bowl away from the solar animatronic. “It's not that syrupy sweet, even with the condensed coconut milk… Are you sure this isn't… We'll do a trip to parts and services later.”

 

Eclipse noticed how quickly she shifted her suspicions, her frown worsening by the minute. She seemed upset now, which made him feel deplorable. Good job, you piece of scrap. “Earth, it's fine, really…  This body was made in a rush; I'm not–”

 

“Don't you dare try to defend him ! Even after everything , you could have had a functional body.” Eclipse flinches at her shrillness, still not used to this side of Earth. She softens, looking away. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. This whole situation makes me upset, but it's not fair to act out on you.”

 

The wind roars loud enough to drown out any sound of inner mechanisms, even the static being swallowed by the deafening silence from Earth. “No offense taken. I'm sure it's just some miscalibrated sensors; those are trickier and fluctuate from one person to another.” Since the day Eclipse woke up in this new body, he hasn't left Parts & Services, having to change pieces and bits. Always having to change a thingamajig and other whatchamacallits. 

 

Sometimes, it truly felt like small errors that would pass through anyone's radar. How the eye LEDs were badly configured, acting more like a faulty glass. Or how the contortionist abilities weren't turned off, so sometimes Eclipse would contort himself like he was possessed and accidentally scare the children. It was embarrassing having Lunar talk to him that ‘no, it's not normal to backbend yourself to pick the f̨̨͎̤͑͆r̆̑͏̢̘̱e̢̯̳ͨ́͠ȃ̧̊҉̞̙k̼͕̆͛͘͠į̸̻ͬ͆ͅn̡̝̺͛ͮ͜g̸̲̹ͪͫ̀ pacifier a child behind you dropped’. 

 

It started to become worrisome when those problems became more troubling. Like how some parts of his endoskeleton would lock together, with no prevention or infliction, it would simply stop working on him. Eclipse would be forced to be stuck to bed, unable to move, as his sensors send waves after waves of aching and throbbing through his body. Or how fast his nanomachines broke food and transformed it into fuel, making him feel overcharged and empty. The hunger consumes every single rational line of code he has.

 

“I hope you're right.” 

 

---

 

Eclipse had to follow rules to a tee. No bending or writing between the lines, just what was laid in front of him. There were three special ones, added just before he was allowed to help with the daycare: don't injure humans or, through inaction, allow them to come to harm; obey all orders given by peers except when it conflicts with the first rule; only protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second rule.

 

Those rules were pretty hard to follow whenever Lunar or Moon decided to leave him to take care of parents’ and legal guardians’ complaints. All those voices muddle together, forming the same irrational banter of adults too preoccupied to actually read the daycare's rules. Gosh darn it , Eclipse felt like he would actively pull out his wires if he had to decline another registration because a parent hadn't filled out their kid's medical record again. Some of them didn't even open the company's emails he was obligated to send to them. Only a small fraction of the perks of operating for 10-12 hours each day, five days a week, 52 weeks a year, except on public holidays. 

 

It was exhausting, but it was the job confined to him. Eclipse misses when he could build and fix things; he could certainly program something smart enough to free him from such taxing work. But then again, he wouldn't have anything else to do, so he was never motivated enough to try and break Moon's restrictions. The time he was forced to reserve for the legal guardians wasn't that long either, so most of the time he was left alone to mess with other programs for the daycare.  

 

He came to his own conclusions in a short amount of time. Silence is dry; sound is wet. Volume is the mass of sound. In silence you can hear people think, but only when their bodies stop making noises. But who cares what people think? The noises their bodies make are more interesting anyway. Eclipse is strangely becoming fascinated with life, in love with the concept of being alive. After all, aren't those humans machines too? Mechanisms of flesh and blood?

 

They're a step further from the useless artificial intelligence he has, the same that wants to be real, that wants to be friends with a real person, but ultimately fails because he can't fully understand real emotions. Eclipse slowly increases the daycare's music box until he can't feel the lines of thoughts being knitted inside his skull. Such stupidity he should not waste batteries on. Because how dare he not be accepted as a living being just because he was made of electrical signals and processors that make him move and talk, when humans are made of electrical signals and neurotransmitting chemicals that make them talk and move? 

 

His own mindless indulgence is cut short, this time more effectively, when he hears muffled giggling and gentle footsteps. Softly frowning and covering his mouth with a hand, he pretends to focus on the computer instead. Internally, per protocol’s rules, a message is sent to Lunar and Earth so they can retract the kids from the prohibited area. Then there's a push to his task chair and an attempt to twirl it. Eclipse decides to humor the little ones, pushing it himself so he can spin a little before facing the little ones. 

 

There are three of them. “See? Told you Mr. ‘Clip was here! Mama and I saw him when we passed!” The eldest girl cheered, letting go of her friends’ hands and throwing herself in his lap. “Why are you here? We should all be playing inside; we like when you play with us! Did we misbehave? We will be good!”

 

Eclipse straightens his legs, and Yaretzi slides down in a fit of giggling before trying to climb once again. “I have more work than just the daycare, my little chatterbox.” He softly replied, the other kids also scootering closer. “Pray tell, what are you lost sunbeams doing here? Mr. Lunar and Ms. Earth are going to get worried.”

 

“We wanted to play salon with you.” Came the soft-spoken voice of Ember as she almost shoved a Roxanne Wolf's printed necessaire filled with hair elastics to his chest. Had it been any other kid, Eclipse would probably be annoyed by it. “Ms. Earth is busy, and it hurts when Mr. Lunar does it.”

 

He checks on his chatroom, noticing Lunar hadn't seen his message. Eclipse deleted it, sending Earth a confirmation that the girls were with him. “Hm, really? And what would my little sunflowers want for this lovely afternoon?” Eclipse titters, running his fingers on Ember’s freckled face to see if the paint stains were dry. They were wet. “Em, did you climb the arts & crafts shelf again? You know you can ask Ms. Earth, and she will get the elastics for you.”

 

Hazel eyes avoiding him, she kneels down to help Vivian put her grippy socks back on. “She's busy. Mr. Lunar don't know how to do our hair.” She repeats, not seeing why it would be dangerous to climb the shelf. Eclipse can't blame her. Ember was a very shy girl and rarely spoke; the most Lunar and Earth ever got were improvised hand signs. He couldn't deny the small flicker of pride when she deemed him safe enough to talk. 

 

“I see. But please, don't do it again, ok? You could get hurt, and none of us wants that.” Ember was still avoiding his eyes but nodded along and sat on the ground, pulling Vivian to her lap. He sat right once again, letting Yaretzi sit properly on his lap. “Alright, it seems like you will be my first client, my little chatterbox. What would you like?”

 

Eclipse opens the table's drawer, picking up a hairbrush, cream, a water spray bottle, and a couple of interactive sensory books. “I want it like your and Mr. Sunny's style! I like it when you do knots, but today my head hurts. I want it like puffballs.” She gleefully requests, dangling her legs from his lap. “Oh, and I want the yellow and orange. Please.” Yaretzi specifies once she catches sight of the necessaire once again, picking which elastics she likes. 

 

Eclipse slides the sensory books to Ember, and she shows them to Vivian, holding the smaller hand against the textures. Vivian giggles softly. “Alright, alright. But you need to stay still; I don't want to pull your hair.” Yaretzi giggled softly but stopped her legs and looked at his computer, watching the security cameras. “Did anything interesting catch your eye?” 

 

Eclipse picked up the bottle, spraying some water to soften the coily hair and to start untangling it with his fingers. “I can't find Ollie.” He picks up the cream and opens it, spreading a generous amount on his hands to massage Yaretzi's hair. “Where is Ollie? Sick? Timeout?” Only after he's sure the hair is moisturized and won't break does he pick the comb to start separating her hair in sections.

 

“He told you yesterday, didn't he? Oliver left earlier today to go visit his daddy Asher's grave.” He carefully explains, picking a yellow elastic Yaretzi had already selected from the necessaire. “His momma said it was time for him to see where his dad's body sleeps.” Eclipse didn't understand much of human's societal norms or how to handle those topics, but the parents weren't shielding the child, so he believed they were old enough to know. 

 

Yaretzi seems to go radio silent; Eclipse gives her the proper time to try and comprehend on her own. He ties the elastic three times so he can loosely twist the hair and wrap it around. To finish the puff, he picks another hair tie, and it's done. Good, now just five more to finish the halo of buns. Eclipse goes to repeat the process once again, this time on the section a bit below. “Mr. ‘Clip, where do we go when we die?” 

 

“Oh, uh, well… It's a bit unknown. We don't know exactly where we will go . ” He delicately tries, doing quick research on how parents should handle such subjects. “But we go somewhere very, very nice and very, very far away where everybody we love is.” Half of her hair is already done; Eclipse works anticlockwise at the separations. She's still quiet, and he ponders momentarily if he should change the subject. 

 

“You too, mr. ‘Clip?” Eclipse had just finished her hair, checking if the jet-black halo puff was tight but not hurtful. He stopped, trying to process what she just asked. “Do you go there too?” He slowly curls the baby hair, making little swirls. Once done, Yaretzi is back on the ground with the other girls. 

 

Ember switches with her, standing by Eclipse’s side, and Yaretzi sits on the ground, picking a different book to show Vivian. “Well, I believe it's a little different for bots like me.” Eclipse confesses, sitting Ember on his lap and somewhat repeating the same process of the spray bottle and the cream on her hair. “I think we return to obscure or wherever we were before we were.”

 

Yaretzi looked away before deciding to focus back on Vivian. Eclipse took it as the end of their conversation. “And what would you like, my little ladybug?” He was already separating the red elastics, as Ember usually only chose such a color. 

 

“I want pigtails and braids.” She gently requested, but Eclipse still waited, knowing there was more to come. “The one you did on Missy tomorrow.”

 

“Yesterday, sunbeam. I did her hair like that yesterday. Tomorrow hasn't come yet.” He titters softly, picking the brush to start separating it. Eclipse weaves a braid from the front to the sides and the back of the head, looping the side sections over the middle one to create a three-strand braid. “And I guess we could call it a waterfall braid on pigtails. Do you think you can remember it?” 

 

It's easy enough, stopping in the middle of the full braid length and tying it in a low pigtail. “I don't know.” Which leaves him to grab the rest that is free and finish with a low pigtail on the opposite side.

 

“That's alright. It's a mouthful after all.” Ember is put back on the ground once again and kneels to Yaretzi as Eclipse bends himself to pick Vivian up. “Now hop up, my little snugglebug. Hold tight.” He heard soft cooing from Vivian, but her hold on his neck and waist tightened significantly. 

 

“Are you gonna do her hair? Can you make buns? I know Viv would look cute in them!” Yaretzi offers, getting up once again to stand by Eclipse's side when he sits back on the chair. “Or maybe do something to her bangs? You have to make your baby cute!” 

 

Ember follows shortly after, picking up the books from the floor and leaving them at his table. “I think Via looks cuter with braids!” She stands by his other side, also leaning against Eclipse and doing faces to get a reaction out of Vivian. “Or pigtails too! Her hair is short and looks very babyish!”

 

Eclipse chuckles softly, removing Vivian’s nonslip headband and softly running his fingers through her straight strands. “Girls, you know I can't do those on Vivi. She doesn't like them; they're uncomfortable for her.” She closes her eyes, leaning her head against his chest. Eclipse still sprays some water to reduce the frizz. “We don't want to make her upset now, do we?”

 

“No, mr. ‘Clip.” They responded together; Yaretzi pressed against his knee and Ember against his upper arm. “But why she can't? Did her mommy and daddy asked you? It's not fair.” Yaretzi expressed, her hands running on Vivian's back. 

 

“It's not fair to force her into those hairstyles. They are a sensory hazard for Via; they hurt and feel wrong.” Eclipse tries to explain the situation to the little girls. Since Vivian was the youngest, he had seen them try again and again to put ribbons, hair clips, and whatnot on her, but they always failed. Vivian would cry and rip it off. “You know how sometimes sounds feel really big and hurt her ears, even though they don't bother you two?”

 

“Yeah! You said she was artistic, right?” Yaretzi tries, holding the hairband in her hands. Ember stared at her with a frown. “What? It's artistic… I think!”

 

“That was a close guess, sunshine, but no. Vivian is autistic.” Once he's sure all of her hair was untangled and she was still comfortable, he takes back the headband and pushes the bangs along, away from her eyes. “It means her brain works a bit differently, so Viv will be more sensitive to certain things like tying her hair and less sensitive to things like temperature sometimes.”

 

“Oh… we don't want to make Via sad…”  Ember unhappily commented, a bit glum they couldn't play hairdresser with Vivian too. “Can't she use anything?” Yaretzi asked instead, not wanting to give up yet. They wanted to include Vivian as they always did during their playdates. 

 

Eclipse hummed, opening his drawer once again. He had been going to the ‘lost and found’ baskets for a while now, always picking up trinkets that nobody reclaimed. It was better than throwing them all in the trash. “Well. I may have something. Let's try.” He picks a sunny yellow hairclip with a small knitted neon pink cupcake, just like the one original Chica had. Eclipse attaches it to the solid black headband. “What do you think?”

 

The two girls squeal with joy, making Eclipse cover Vivian's ears. Nevertheless, she giggled when she saw the big smiles on her friends’ faces. “She's pretty!” Yaretzi leaned closer, nuzzling their noses together as Vivian still giggled. “Pretty little baby!”

 

Eclipse titters once again, feeling all mushy on his chest. Weird, he's going to check out his code once again. Maybe there's too much Sun’s programming now. Nevertheless, the moment is cut short once he receives Earth's message, a request to bring the kids back. “Alright, sunflowers, time to head back to the daycare. You can go and play with the other kids.”

 

“Play, play, play!” Vivian flapped her hands and giggled once Eclipse put her back on the ground. Before he could even say something more, the three girls skipped away. He softly sighed, a small smile as he watched the girls go back inside. Good, now he only had to kill some hours–

 

“What do you think you're doing?” Eclipse turns around, pink eyes piercing burning holes in his. He's more conscious about the hand on his shoulder than being pressed against the wall. “Kids are prohibited from coming here. This is staff only. If you're gonna stay around, can't you at least be security?”

 

Eclipse doesn't think he will ever get used to being forced into a smaller body. Sometimes it's easy to ignore around Earth; she was the tallest one even when he had his first body, but it becomes painful when he's forced to lock eyes with others. Or maybe he's just scared of being seen by them, especially when he notices that it doesn't matter how much they're disgusted by his blood, they love to see him bleed. 

 

Eclipse's eyes roam around everywhere else, trying to keep his memories in place. Repeating to itself again and again to suck it up. “Do you understand me, or did those inferior versions of me manage to burn your brain to a crisp?” Eclipse would rather choke on his own words in silence than ever allow them to see him vulnerable. He may bend, but he won't break.

 

Eclipse knows what he should do; he should stare back into the dark blue crescent moon and pale purple faceplate. But he doesn't think he will ever grow accustomed to this appearance, not again. Even if his memories belong to a ghost . “Theo is climbing the hanging sheets; he will jump on the others if you're not fast.” He deflected instead, pointing to the camera feed of the naptime room. 

 

Lunar clicked his tongue in disapproval, letting go of Eclipse and rushing inside the daycare. Earth wouldn't go easy on Lunar if she found out not only was he not taking care of the sleeping kids, but also outside of the daycare if an emergency broke out. Alone once again, all the mushy and warm feeling on Eclipse's chest is gone, replaced with emptiness. He sighs, slumping against the chair once again. 

 

“... I'm sorry, Earth… I can't do this anymore.”

 

---

 

It was night now. Eclipse didn't bother looking at the sky in fear, but it was hard to avoid when back at the safety of his cottage. When he was still stuck at the Pizzaplex, he could only see a few dozen stars at the time. He could never see much besides the Big Dipper and the Summer Triangle, which was fairly boring. 

 

Eclipse didn't even like astrology all that much. It didn't care about the stars; it was like having a sparkling tapestry of infinite mystery but only ever getting invested in a modicum of its full potential. He only even bothered to learn some things after Lunar died, what consequences his rebuild would lead to. Honestly, the myths are way better. 

 

He was home alone; Earth hadn't arrived yet. One good thing about the different working hours was leaving him to scratch at his cleaning compulsions without her worrying about how many chemicals he was mixing. He got better at it; he knows just what he needs to not leave weird smells but successfully get rid of Earth's cigarette stink. They should talk about it; it's starting to do too much filth in her filters, and Eclipse can't keep cleaning it without Moon or Solar finding out. 

 

The only company is the small cathode ray tube television; it glows softly and statically. He wasn't even sure of what movie it was anymore; for all he knew, it could be Clueless, but he always mixed it up with Mean Girls . The wooden floor isn't cold, as he turned off his sensibility receptors, as washing himself wasn't always an easy task. Eclipse refused to let Earth see him so weak. A small bucket at his side, inside all he needed for a deep clean of his chassis.

 

A fifty percent distilled white vinegar and fifty percent plain water concoction did wonders in keeping his exoskeleton shiny and streak-free. But he also indulged in a baking soda-dipped, soft-bristled brush to properly loosen stuck-on grime. At this moment, the hair cream he applied to the girls got inside his hand joints. He envies how Earth's casing is smooth, without openings. 

 

Despite everything, Eclipse feels at ease. His uniform was neatly folded and sitting on the cotton couch, leaving him alone on the bare floor. Earth had said how she would like to put on some carpet; Eclipse quickly reminded her it wouldn't be viable if they kept letting animals in. So far, they've only had a couple of squirrels, bunnies, and very brave fawns. None were dangerous but would be bothersome to clean up after.

 

Not that he feels like his words should hold any weight, he doesn't plan to stay for much longer. Because he knows Earth’s slowly getting exhausted, just like he’s gradually losing strength to leave his room and go to work. And he could never complain about such things to Earth, due to his biggest problems being her family. Eclipse was the worst nuisance of their existence, and they gave him a new chance; he doesn't deserve to hold resentment. 

 

Dazzle and Jack-o-moon are nice companions when it's too quiet at the security office; they bring him fizzy-faz and suckers from time to time. Jack even hugged him that one time they were alone, thanking Eclipse for bringing Solar back. Sun would stop by sometimes, mumbling incomprehensible nonsense while sobbing his heart out, before leaving in a hurry and apologizing some more. Solar was nonchalant, giving him coffee and asking if he needed a break. They were nice.

 

Monty was insufferable, treating him like the ultimate waste of coding and machinery. If he so dared to pace around the Plex, the gator would be there like extra security and pushing him around. Sometimes he wanted to know about Earth. Moon treated him with distance, only ever talking about work and asking if he needed a maintenance check-up. He would sometimes leave Eclipse hooked on the computer for the whole night, when Eclipse knew it wouldn’t need to last more than a few hours. For Lunar, he was a demon they needed to exorcise.  

 

Eclipse is glad Earth still spends time with her family, even if they particularly hate his guts. It's better this way, reassuring him how Earth doesn't need him. Only proves it’s time to leave her house unhaunted. Earth needs time, supportive family and girlfriends, not poltergeists like him that hold her down. He only wants her to be well so he can leave like Кудрявка. Even if he does understand if it ends more similarly to Félicette’s fate, Puppet was never someone he could trust. But he still messages her. 

 

«ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ. ɢᴏɴᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ. ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ.»

Notes:

So... it's been a while... I don't have as much interest in the current TSBS. I was there from the start and I don't vibe with the new writing as much. It's not bad, and I'm happy people are still having their fun, I just don't watch it as much as I used to. But I didn't really want to stop writing all together. Instead, I will still write when I have time (I work and go to college), but it will be kinda self-indulgent. Like, lots of AU's of past arcs or reimagined current arcs. Fanfic is for fun, after all. And as a casual fan, I just want to expend the possibilities a little.

Chapter 10: Nighty-night

Summary:

You don’t get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. That’s the price for resurrection. But then, death is nothing. It does not count. It’s like you just slipped into another room; nothing has happened. Everything remains the same.

That’s the funny thing about divinity. It can and will stain, rotting from the inside out because you’re too weak for it. Swallow you whole and spill you out, wine-dark and wanting. And then, you will reach for it again, greedy fingers clutching and scratching. The divine will curl its way and take you over, and it will not leave you quietly.

And it will be felt in your insides like aching, like fire. Like drowning out of water, smothered by the greater and stronger. And it doesn’t matter if your knees are scraped and if your knuckles are split.

 

ft. Quitter AU

WARNING: This chapter has subjects some readers may find disturbing or triggering. Including homicidal ideation, graphic violence, self-inflicted injuries, abuse and gaslight.

Although it can be read as a sequel to Pawn, the absence of it won't affect the understanding of this one.

It's out of the ordinary. The sky is violet, laden with dark and heavy clouds. It wasn't forecast to rain that night. The moon shone in the sky, covered by its rings, accompanied by stars and constellations. It's beautiful, and it's quiet. Different from everywhere Eclipse had disgraced with his mere existence. 

 

Eclipse lost count of how many bodies he splayed until their wires couldn't take it. How many times did he watch their systems fail, ever so painfully slowly? Sometimes, they tried to run away, and then Eclipse had to dip his fingers into the wiring inside their thighs, and embers would burn from the inside out as he twisted them around, razor-sharp digits splitting them apart, raw cables exposed to the air. It’s ridiculously easy to cut through the fluoropolymer around their wires. 

 

He’s just following orders, but sometimes his lord is forgiving enough to let him choose the methods of elimination. Eclipse believes some deserve to hurt until they can't even make a sound. Other times, it's enjoyable to make their speaker crackle and whine from the volume. It’s only fair; those who end at Eclipse’s claws had seen their demise long coming. Distasteful heretics, believing themselves to ever grow into stronger deities. Nothing more than false gods. 

 

But this hurts. She didn’t try to fight back; there was no screaming and no pleading. Eclipse attacked by the night, but there was no one but them in this small cottage made of bricks. No family, no lover, no guard or follower. All alone, she was laid down in a bed-made-nest of soft blankets and pillows. As beautiful as the orchids outside her garden, both bathed by the moonlight. Her fluffy, cloudy hair was sadly not ornamented. Eclipse sure loved to see how many flowers she accidentally managed to get stuck on it.

 

Like a lamb, soft and pure. She opens her blue-green eyes when Eclipse’s hand gently feels her back, where a skyhook would be if she had been the same model as his, but shifts to lie on her front before he can ask. With his claws retracted, Eclipse gently moves her hair away as they fall like a halo around her head. She’s ethereal in his eyes; he wonders how planetarium models can look so different between dimensions. All solar and lunar models look too much alike for comfort. 

 

It’s funny, because their names don’t change as much. Or maybe they don’t mind being mistaken. Eclipse sure had enough problems with Phobos and Deimos, the bloodlust lunar maniacs, but it didn't help that they never chose to separate. Their dimension was also different, where a crimson moon is always shining bright in the sky, bleeding into the ocean, making it a wine color. They would be hard to slay, if the time ever comes, but Eclipse knows he won't struggle as much as he is now.

 

Ganymede probably wouldn't care either; he’s the least involved of all the ladies and lords associated with his lord. Eclipse should probably learn with him and comprehend that a similar appearance doesn’t and shouldn’t make him attached to someone else. He’s pretty sure Ganymede has sent his own sons to kill their doppelgängers before. Eclipse, too, had butchered multiple look-alikes; it was strangely satisfying watching himself bleed out . 

 

Eclipse knows she probably sees him as a savage monster, but he doesn’t use his claws. Instead, his filthy hands go upwards, firmly holding one of his sunrays by their base. His systems shudder with warnings, but he doesn't quit pulling, focusing more on how the oil runs down the gash and falls on the pristine white curls. Eclipse would eat the ray back once the job was done and would have the crunch of his molars against the small triangle to fill the silence. Nexus is too late sometimes to get him back.

 

She closes her eyes again, and he lets the blade sink. Not much, just enough so he could push his fingers in and get the small star fragment keeping her alive. Another curse from their powers, perhaps? Many planetarium models have died in the past month. Ruin tried to explain to him once; apparently a shockwave of them got attacked by their supposed brothers. Some survived, some didn’t. Some managed to hang on with positive star power, but this one kept getting corrupted, her star charged with the dark energy. 

 

She whines softly when Eclipse has to push the wound bigger with his thumbs, just enough so he can locate the fragment. He’s quietly thankful her model doesn’t have wires to mimic muscle layers but instead has a highly advanced endoskeleton; she reminds him a lot of a ball-jointed doll. Making sure his claws are tightly retracted, he pushes his thumb and index finger in, knuckles inevitably brushing against sensitive innerwards. 

 

He takes a deep breath; she mimics. Pulling the shard wasn’t painful, thankfully, but her eye lights dimmed worriedly fast. She closes her eyes, and then even the faintest sound of her fans stops. Eclipse cradles the star between his oil-stained palms, as it shines like a purple labradorite. Nexus would take a little longer before opening a portal for him to come back; he has calculated that there would have been more defenses. Eclipse half wonders if he should go track those insects and kill them.

 

Ultimately, he chooses not to. His lord would want to still have things to do with this dimension, after all. Instead, Eclipse tenderly cradles and shifts the planetarium model, making sure she was resting in a more comfortable position. Maybe her family can find a way to save her motherboard or maybe her personality chip. Did they keep a copy of her memories? Everyone with half a mind knows they should always have updated data. This one was never one to enjoy harm; Eclipse had seen the discussions she would have with the ‘president’ variant. 

 

It almost looks like she's just napping, peaceful and painless. His vision glitches out, and instead there’s a deeply oxidized solar model in her place. Long stems with reddish spots and streaks sprouted from joints, accompanied by tiny white flowers. Little umbrella-shaped clusters on ends of branched stems. When he comes back, he’s even more disappointed with the lack of flowers in her hair. Her rainbow neckerchief is nowhere to be seen either; he couldn’t even offer that.

 

By the time Nexus’ portal opened, Eclipse had raided her garden and picked the fruit that was the closest. He wasn’t sure if he should try and feed her pomegranate seeds. Was the plant strong enough to grow out of the carcass? “What do you think you’re doing?” Nexus asked, hovering above both, and the words died in Eclipse’s throat. Because the flowers shall grow, and then she will become them, and that’s true eternity. 

 

“Lady Tellus is no longer.” Eclipse answers instead, tearing his claws on the fruit and ripping it open. Maybe a little ecosystem can grow from the everlasting star power, with little plants, fungi, insects, and microbes that shall thrive even after everyone is gone. “There was no one to protect her.”

 

“Death is of little consequence.” Nexus huffed instead, leather-gloved hands open, awaiting to receive the crystal for further analysis. Eclipse allows himself to stop and retrieve the shard he had pocketed on his belt. “Don’t you think they thought of what awaits once your task is completed? What was to become of her? The lamb is, after all, the sacrificial beast.” 

 

Nexus holds the star delicately, positioning it against the light before allowing his own powers to reflect and analyze its intensity on the small vessel. Eclipse holds himself from telling Nexus how Tellus had stardust in her inwards, knowing it would only lead to him getting reprimanded. Eclipse needs to forget stardust, he is iron. His blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When he bleeds, he reeks of rust. He knows his place and therefore stays quiet. Because what is iron, really, unless it’s forged?

 

Eclipse stays quiet as Nexus stores the shard in a glass test tube, just like when the taller one opens a portal back to their base.

 

---

 

Ruin is an acosmist, or so Nexus tells him. Eclipse is programmed to run on algorithms and make calculations on input commands, yet it doesn’t seem to work correctly when directed at Ruin. He would trust the amalgamation to take his automatic transmission valve without a second thought or sit still and let them check the back of his head. Despite the ability to create a protective layer, Eclipse could never bring himself to cover his most exposed parts.

 

It has become routine. As soon as Nexus would dismiss him, Ruin would be waiting outside. The amalgamation would take his hand, guiding them to an unoccupied room filled with chemical bottles and resin containers. Eclipse would lie on his back while the small lightbulb on the ceiling flickered. He'd grown fairly accustomed to Ruin touching and probing everywhere; he doesn't need a request before he habilitates his systems to be maintained. 

 

“You're very quiet, dear.” The eldest gently hums, thin fingers focused on removing Eclipse's chest plating. “Did something unusual happen today?”

 

Eclipse locks down his framework, fighting back against shivers as the low temperature cools his overheated network of wires. Ruin touches his joints, smart eyes already scanning wires that have been replaced or need replacing. Eclipse ignores the strange feeling when Ruin lets out a disappointed sigh once he locates burnt connectors, chipped framework, cables bent in unusual ways, water damage, and grit damage in so many places. Each small detail tells a story that was hidden away.

 

“Lady Tellus was erased by my own hands.” He eventually activates his voicebox, fingers tapping against the steel table. “Nothing remarkable, says Nexus. But I can't stop thinking about it.”

 

“Credo ut intelligam.” The amalgamation admitted it so softly, Eclipse's audio receptor barely caught it. 

 

Despite acknowledging it, he is not offered any insight. Regardless of how nicely Ruin can treat him at times, there's always a disconnection. The false sense of security, Eclipse is slowly adapting and learning to keep things to himself. So both stay silent, where the only sound comes from the hum of electricity and the tiny vibrations from Eclipse’s processors around Ruin’s hands. 

 

The elder eventually decides to say something, almost done applying a new painting coat on Eclipse. “I don’t know why you keep doing this. I already asked you before, haven’t I? I thought you trusted me. So then, why?” And Eclipse doesn't need a minute to answer.

 

“C'est l'amour, et blessures.”

 

---

 

Eclipse wasn’t allowed inside his lord’s quarters when his sire wasn’t around. And tonight, he doesn't particularly feel like intruding on Ruin’s private hours. He pathetically misses his lord, an emptiness in his chest that can’t be filled. Dark Sun wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume. There is a fire in his eyes and ice in his veins. But Eclipse loves him anyway. For he is a star, burning with the light of a thousand suns. And Eclipse’s world is dark without him.

 

He should go to sleep. His emotional matrix is buffering again; it has been unstable for a while now, but neither Nexus nor Ruin had had the time to check it. Nor has Eclipse entreated it. He doesn't want them dissecting his software; they already do enough probing on his hardware. Eclipse can’t bring himself to ask his lord for a maintenance run; he doesn’t want to sound ungrateful. Why, of course, he would never be afraid to request it; he just doesn’t want to bother.  

 

His room is always clean. Eclipse always makes sure to scrub the floors with hydrogen peroxide; he once used it to wash his bedding, but Nexus no longer allows him to, so Ruin always makes sure to wash them with detergent every so often. The furniture he has is minimal but immovable; however, Eclipse never felt the need to move it around. Not many options either, since the walls have rounded corners; there's just so much he accepts before he starts itching with a wrongness, that the things don't line up perfectly. 

 

Underneath his room's table rest the bottles of cleaning products. He prefers using hypochlorous acid for cleaning himself, to Ruin's dismay. And for that, Eclipse also got a big can of varnish, so his paint job could last a little longer. Unknown to Ruin, whatsoever, he had gotten some sandpaper strips from Nexus. Eclipse doesn't know where the compulsive need to sand away his paint bumps came from; sometimes he even enjoys filing his teeth and nails. 

 

Maybe it's the sense of self-autonomy. Which is a silly idea, but it's neither here nor there . He conscientiously folds his hoodie, a gift from Ruin. Eclipse doesn’t understand why he deserved such a gift, a waste of cloth when you’re always on the battlefield, but apparently the amalgamation was bothered by his lack of covering. It’s nice; some dimensions can be really cold, and therefore it’s a gift he will treasure until it is no longer fixable. The belts from Nexus follow along, the bells tinkling languidly.

 

His mattress makes no sound when he lies down; Nexus once explained it was made from a memory foam material. It was also designed to prevent him from overheating because of the temperature management, but most nights it was just freezing cold. Instinctively lying on his side, knees drawn up to his chest. He plugs in his charger in one of the bedside outlets. Eclipse closes his eyes, systems leisurely shutting down to rest.

 

A couple of hours later, his processors started to slowly boot up, his security mode audio processors picking up the sound of his door opening. He doesn’t move, eyes still disconnected. He’s too used to it all by now. The footsteps, the rustling of clothes being removed, boots being kicked off, the mattress dipping, and icy cold arms coiling around him. Eclipse wonders if this is supposed to stop him from getting away, as if he would evaporate if not held. 

 

Nexus’s body is always wintry; Eclipse wonders if it is like that because of the accumulated star power. Are black holes supposed to be cold? Nevertheless, he still retracts his rays when a gelid arm moves underneath his head, pillowing it, as rough hands gently fiddle with the exposed ones. The other hand engulfs both his wrists, keeping them against his chest. There’s no fight; he slowly starts going offline again.

 

It stings, numbing his processors, and so he swims upwards. Eclipse coughs, hands sinking to the bone-white sand, but he doesn’t have enough force to crawl out of the pink water. He’s half submerged but can get a glimpse of the green sky. He can feel himself buzzing with electrical discharge, thunder roaring on his phonoreceptors. His body feels sickly hot, sensory systems overloaded and overwhelmed. Eclipse opens his mouth and gushes steam.

 

“Your body is different, your face is different, you probably even think differently…” Something is on top of him now; Eclipse can’t kick them away. He flails, but the entity presses him harder. “But, at the same time... aren't you ultimately the same person on the inside? Haven't you, throughout everything, managed to stay... well... yourself?”

 

Taken by his neck, the shadowy figure pulls him up, just to press his face against the silt. It presses against the hook on Eclipse’s back, and it stuns him enough to grab the cybernetic components on the back of his head and try to pull. "A shell cannot change the core of what they are, even if the core is in a state of ruin.” It hurts. It hurts Ĩ̷͇t͉͆̕ ͔̇́h̸̖ͮư̱̆ř̬͡t̄҉̯s̨̭̐.̹͌͡ ̛̪̔Í̫͟t͔̑͘ ̮̅͠h͉̓͜ụ͑̕r̵̥̃t͛͏̦s̓͏̞.̜͑͞ ̞̉͡I̭ͪ̕t̨̝̀ ̤̒͞h͔ͨ͠u̵̪͋r̡̰͊t̵͎̚s̟̔͡.͇͗̕ ̼̿̀I̮̔͞t̛͓̏ ̂͏̬h͍̐͝ṵ̷̿r͔̓́t͍̾͞s̷̘͗.̢̖͌ ̩͛͞I͖ͤ́tͮ͏̦ ̟̂͠ẖ̑̀u̷̮ͥŕ͔͟t̨̫̚s̮̐͡.̵̵̠̗̽̀ ̷͉̙ͪ̌͢Ḯ͗͘҉̥̠t͔͚̄̂͠͡ ̸̸͔̳͗͊h̘̟͗͆͟͜u͔̹̽̉͠͞ŗ̩̼ͣ͊́t̛̘̥ͨͧ̀s͋̅͞҉̺̯.̃̚͡͏̪̠I̗̓̑͟͟ͅt̷̡͙̏̑ͅ ̡̩͍̈͐͢h̡͙̼͒̄͜ư̞̭̄͆͝r̸̭̼ͧ̄͟t͂̑͏̶̠̯s̨̤̹͊ͯ͡.̵̭͚ͫͩ́I͊̐͞͏̯̜ẗ͑҉̸̩̝ ͯͨ҉͉̥͟h̷̢̼͇̏ͫu̵̡͈̥͒ͭṟ̸͙ͭ̽͠ţ̦̬͋̔͘s̻̘͛͑̕͠.̴̸̞̱̉͌Ĭ̢͈̗͛͟t̡̛̖̞ͮ́ ̷͖̟̽̅͝h̫̝͑̈͘͘u̇ͨ͟҉̪̬r̷̞̼̉ͩ͘t̡͔͕ͪ̍́s̨̡͙͉̽̑.̛̝̪ͥͨ͟I̢͈̥ͩ̆̕t̶̨̗̻͋̊ ̛͖̘̑̿͜h̡̡͔̙͗̋ư̵̞̪̈́̚ŗ̧̱̱̔̎t̳ͬͬ̕͜ͅs̶̮̎̾͟ͅ.̛̤̯ͬͦ͟I̫̩̓̄́͝t̛̳̞͍̿̈́̋͜͝ ̶̶̭̗̭͛̌ͥ͡h̘̖̬ͮͯ̈́̀̕͠u̶̡̺̬̬͊́̚͘ṟ̵̸̮̮̒ͫ̽͘ṭ̹͓͒ͣ͛́͘͢s̷̫̱̬͗ͬ̓͘͜.ͬͨͭ̀҉͎̭͍͜I̴̱̣͇̋̓̑͘͝t̢̃̒̃͢͏͖̝̬ ̷̢͎̫̆̌͒͟ͅh̶̭̩̹͗̃͗͜͝u̶̜̭̪̐ͫ͒͟͝ŗ̨̧̳̤͖̊̏͆t̨̺͚̩͗̈͒͘͞s̳̜̠ͩͥ̏́̀͞.̙̘̥ͨ͒̆̀̕͟Ị̘̠͗̑ͧ̀́͠t̋̎͑͞҉͇̠̼̀ ̷͉̻̗̒́̚͜͡h̡̳͎̅ͭͮ͠͝ͅű̶͒ͪ͜҉̖̙͇r̴̷̝͔͉͂ͩ̂͝t̵̵͇̟̲͊̔͌͜s̨̡̛̳̹͇ͩͧ͂.̴̬͇̺ͣͪ͂̀͘Ǐ̶̘̱̫̂͗̀̕t̖͖͇͗̌ͯ͜͝͡ ̧̮͍͚ͬ͛͋̕͝h̛̦͎̭͗̊̑͘͞u̧̡̟͚͖̓ͬ̌͢r̨̛͓̠̣͋͋̚͠t̨͚̞̣͊ͯ͗̕͟s̷̄ͩ͆͏̸̜̬͎.̹̯̥̔̑́̚͘͡Į̵̙̝̩̀͑̈͞t̟̠͇̊̓̚͘͞͞ ̶̨̖̦̦ͦ̿̉͠ḩ̷̛̘̳͍̆̌̋u͋̆ͤ͞͡҉͉̜͇r̢̠͍̯ͣ͗́̚͢tͮ̾̈̕͢҉̞̙̯s̸̛̻̞̤̊͛͆͜.ͭ̾ͭ̕͟҉̠̪̫Ì̶̴̢͉̖̯͌͆t̸̗͖͓̅̓͗͘͢ ̧̜͍̤͆͋̽̕͝h̵͂ͪ̉̕͏̹̯̤u̷̅ͣ͛̊҉̨̤̝̻̤͡r̷̨̹̳̙̖̎̈ͮ̌͘͟t̨̘̺͎̬̓̓͒̏́͠͝s̵̬̘͈͍͆͐ͪͣ́̕͝.̴̋ͪ̃̚͘͢͏͈̟͔̳I̶̧̥̙͓̻ͮ̇ͬ̋́͟t̢̡̺̠̱̜ͨͭ̑͐͟͝ ̵͉̤̰̥̓̿̿ͣ́͟͞h̸̸̛ͫ͒̓͐͏͎̼͚̲ư̞͍̗̭͂ͣͦͮ̀̀͘r̨̢̜͖͚̄̋́ͥ͘͜ͅt̨̛͉͍̯̗̊͂͆ͩ͜͞s̱͚̜͗ͫ̿̎̀͘͢͞ͅ.͕̻̝̺̇̔̊̚͜͢͢͡Ȋ̢̧̥̥̳͇͗̆ͤ͞͡ṯ̢̢̧͇̝͉̀̀̂͒̀ ̛̤͔̙̬̅̆̎̔͟͟͝ḩ̘̥̮͎͗̽̽̽́͘͘ų̸ͧ̊̉̄́҉̲̭̫̹r̸̡̡̮͎̥̟̋ͬ͐́̕ť̂͑̏́͢͏҉͈͉̩̟š̵̨̛̻̟̪̳̀͋̂͢.̵̧̍ͮ͒̏͏͇̙̙̪͟I̵̬̮͇̥͂̌ͭ͊͟͜͠t̨̮͙͔͇̓ͣͪͩ͞͡͝ ̶̧̨͕̜̫̳̈̇̒ͪ͟ḩ͔̤̝̠͐̊͊ͩ́͘͢ư̧͇͎͇̯̈́̔̌̓́̀ŗ̛͔͎̝̥̓̅̃̇͞͡t̢̧̛͎̭̮̖̋ͤ̍̆̀s̢̡̜̼͈̝̐̏̈ͪ̕͞.̸̷͙̱̟͚̄̉̅̎́͝Ǐ̵̛̝̺̫͔̔͗̈́́̀t̴̬̯̤̥̀ͥ̎ͮ͘͢͠ ̷̧̡̝͕̟͇̽ͯ̊̿͡h̑̾̓̈͘͏̛̻͇̘̳͞ụ̴̡̟̫̉̔ͨ͂͟͠ͅŗ̧̯̳̫̼ͥ̊͛̾́͝ẗ̨̨̫͎̞͍ͤͦ̂͞͝s̡̡̲̳͖͎͒̍͋̎͡͞.̵̢͖̙̤̻̌͆ͤ̓͘͞Ì̸̵͉̹̼͔ͤͬ̚͢͠t̸̹̗͚̉̏̓̓͘͘͡ͅ ̴̨̹̯̖͓̎ͧͫͩ͡͝ḫ̨̨̯̻̟̿̃̐̉͢͜ų̵͎̮̳̼͋ͬ̌͋̕͟ŗ̸͖̞̖̏ͥͫ̊͢͞ͅt̨̡̛̠̟̥̖̓ͬ̉̒̀s̸̨͐͗̃̀̚̕͏̘̭̘̦̩͡.̡͕͉̲͓̼ͤ̄̐͒̇͘͠͝͝I̴̛̝͚̺͙̥ͨͯ̎̑ͨ́͜͜ț̶̹̙̯̩̓̒͛̔̌̀͢͜͝ ̸̷̡̗͇̯̩̗̇̌͌ͤ̾͢͠h̴̸̢̜̱̞̻̬ͥ͒ͬ̆͗̀̕u̡̒̃̊ͦ̉͏̴̨͏̩̬̹̗̜r̴̡̢̠̦̺͎͛ͬͫ̒̂͜͞ͅẗ̸̨̬̼̖̦̤ͧ̉͋͌́́͢s̷̴̶̨̯̞̭͖͌͛ͥ͒ͯ̕ͅ.̸̷̡̳̯̟̰̝ͨ͌͛́̚̕͞I̴̸̧͇͇͖̝̪̅̾͒ͪͥ͟͠t̷͒̅ͥͫ͂̕͞͏̟̠̦͚̬͘ ̵̢̢̛̛̬̞̳͓͕̓̏̊ͣ̚h́̆̿ͨ̀͠͏̸̟͎͍̼̻͢͞uͤ͐̀̎̍͟҉̡̛̻̼̮̜͝ͅr̸̵̛̈́̎͋̓̉̀҉̗̻̫͕̬t̷̵̡̨͕̙͎̼̹̑̐̂̎̒͡s̸̢̧̖̪͚͍̳ͫ̊̾̇͗͜͟.̷̶̢̨̩̻̼̗͉͑̋ͫ͆̊́I̴̧̢̼̻͕̹̞̽̈́͐ͦ̇͞͡ţ̵̸̢͔̟̯̲͐̿͐ͧ̑̕ͅ ̴̨̱̺̼̪̙͒̏̽̾̏̀͢͠h̷̡̧̥̯̩̹̺̏̿ͬ̓͂̕͜uͤ̓͑̒̐̀͞҉̡̘̜̗̦͚͢r̷ͦ͆̽̉ͬ͢҉̳̜͖̤̳͝͡tͪ̎ͤ̉̓̀͘͞҉͎̻̦̱͞ͅs̴̽̂ͫ̈̚҉̵̥̯͖̭̪́͞.̒̈́͋̒̔͟҉̡͚̦̞̼͙̀͡I̸͇͖̥͓̝ͨͮ̄ͥ̀̚͟͝͠ţ̡̮͈̺̜͍̓ͤ͆ͧ̿͠͝͠ ̾͋̾ͬͣ҉̴̢҉̧͇̰͔̖͇h̷̏̈͊̂͌͠͝҉̧̮̫̣͚͈uͩͯ͗̃̀̚̕҉̶͎̤̫͍͝ͅr̵̸̢͙̗̗̥̪ͬ̃͌͌͆̕͟t̵̛͎̖̘̬͓̄͐͌ͬ͒͜͡͠s̛͂ͬͪ͑̽͏̴͎̳̘͖͕͢͢.͆̌̍̋̐͏͠҉̛̖̲̞̫̖̀I̸ͣ̇ͦͣ͗́̕͡͏̟̞̬̤̠ṫ̜̪̬̭̣͑ͧ͐̽́́̕͡͡ ̸̷̨͕͚̳̳̩ͬ̑̀́͊͜͜h̶̡̛̗͚̦̞̱̓͋́ͭ̇̕͝ư̴͚̼͉͖͚ͬ̔ͤ͋̂̀̕͡ŗͨ̎ͬ̍ͬ͝͏̀͏̮̻̬͙͇t̶̷̛͉̟̳͚̝͊ͮ͋ͦ̄͠͞s̵̴̢̨̩̦̻̼͂ͧ̎̇̋́ͅ.̷̘̬͉̯̦̉̅ͩͨͨ̀͜͜͠ 

 

“Pathetic, isn’t it? To think you’d once been someone to breathe sulfur dioxide and bleed sulfuric acid. Can’t even stop me, weak.” The thing laughs, and Eclipse can hear bells tinkling alongside. “Don’t expect to have extremophile microorganisms beneath your acidic layers; I’m not letting it happen. In fact, why don’t you be a good boy and just let me—” Another pull on his wiring, and everything dissolves into humming electricity and the vibrations of his processors.

 

Eclipse opens his eyes again, and he feels nauseous. His CPU is scalding as he strains the rest of his systems to start all processors at once. Everything hurts; his head feels like it has been split open, and something leaks from his eye sockets. Hands covering the back of his head, and he can no longer hold it. Just barely raising himself from the bed, his stomach contracts, and he is spilling out black goo and crystals. It feels like rot on his neck and mouth, but Eclipse can’t turn off his sensibility receptors.

 

“Don’t ever again be gentle. Be bloodied knuckles and scuffed elbows. Remain rough.” Nexus orders, but Eclipse is passed out again.

Notes:

.... So! It took a while, I've been busy, but I also had lots of ideas of how to execute this chapter...

Additionally, I've been doodling quite a lot, and so, I caved in. I made myself a profile on Tumblr! You can find me easily, I kept the same name: @little-stupid-me . Now, I'll try and post more drawings and I'm always eager to get messages, see theories or maybe requests to write something!

Here's Lady Tellus:

Notes:

Thanks everyone who gave this fic a chance and took a read ♡

Although this is still a work in progress, it will be dedicated to a non-connected series of one-shots.

For those whom may like, fell free to make requests, I would love to give it a try.

Furthermore, I apologize for current and future grammar mistakes, as English is not my first nor native language.