Chapter Text
Artful woke up wrapped in a garishly pink overcoat, looking at the ceiling of a cave. Hm. So that wasn’t a dream.
He was still cold, but his clothes were just damp instead of dripping wet; he’d take what he could get. His eyes trailed to where Loveshot was sitting by the mouth of the cave, bathed in sunlight. Artful still didn’t know what to make of their temporary truce. Just one day ago, the sheriff had been ready to shoot him in the head, and now they had spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. Surely they wouldn’t go back to being enemies now, at least not until they were back in the city.
The truth was that Loveshot’s affection, even if it was only for survival, had a bigger impact on Artful than he’d like to admit. It came as no surprise that being on the run for murder meant you missed out on the more intimate moments of life; even something as minor as brushing hands with someone would fill him with warmth for a couple hours. The Civilian mind was not meant to be alone for long periods of time, and Artful had spent the last two years trying to have as little contact as he possibly could. To have someone let him rest against them, to curl their arms around him and pull him close, so close he could feel the rise and fall of their lungs against his chest… well, it was something he wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.
A soft clinking noise finally drew Artful to walk to where Loveshot was sitting. In his hands was a metal can, slightly dented but otherwise unharmed. In his other hand was a rock, and on the top were numerous scratch marks. Loveshot greeted his appearance with a slight nod and a sarcastic remark. “Sleep well, darling?”
“Like a lamb,” Artful replied, determined to retain some of his dignity despite last night’s pathetic begging. “I have come to return your coat.
Loveshot snorted, but quickly wrapped himself back up. They were perhaps the only person who could make that eyemelting shade of pink work. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”
He sat down beside them, watching as he tried to pry open the can. The sunlight was pleasant on his skin, a nice contrast from the storm. Last night, he had been too preoccupied with not drowning to observe his surroundings. Floating islands dotted the place around them, a still-swelled waterfall pouring down into the abyss. Robloxia was a strange and magical place, with the more dangerous areas often being less popular. Half-crumbled pillars reached up to the sky, with some surprisingly well-maintained wooden bridges allowing for people to cross without risking a trip into the void. “What on earth is that giant teapot?”
“Oh. That.” Loveshot paused his task to stare at said giant teapot. It almost appeared to have eyes, although Artful was sure it was just his mind playing tricks on him. “I have no idea. It doesn’t seem to be a threat, though. It didn’t stir an inch when I managed to rustle this up.”
With that, they tapped the can on the head. It was the kind kept in supply crates, ones Artful had become very familiar with ever since the Bunkers were made. There weren’t a lot of food sources present aside from them, so he had resorted to opening them up and storing them in various safehouses across the city. It must’ve been carried by the same waters that dumped Artful and Loveshot here.
“How fortuitous.”
“Yeah, if I can get the damn thing open in the first place.” Their face was screwed up in frustration as he bashed the rock against the top one more time. “If only a can opener had washed up as well.”
Artful extended a hand. “May I?”
Loveshot frowned, but after a few seconds passed the can into his hands. With a flourish, Artful summoned his magic wand. He drew a circle around the top of the can before tapping on the lid three times. It creaked open, revealing the contents within. “Voilà.”
Loveshot looked impressed, something that most definitely did not send flutters through Artful’s stomach. How long had it been since someone looked at him with awe instead of fear or disgust? “That’s some nifty magic you’ve got there. Think you could spell us back to the city?”
“If only, sheriff. If I had the ability to teleport, you and I would not have met so often back then.”
With that, they lapsed into silence as they picked at the canned peaches. It wasn’t the worst meal, but it was far from either of their favorites. All of yesterday’s excitement meant that they had worked up quite the appetite, and in only a few minutes the can was empty. Loveshot sighed. “I’m gonna do a sweep of the area to make sure there aren’t any I missed, and then we can set out. That sounds good?”
“We?”
Loveshot looked at him as if he had just grown a second head. “Unless you want to hang around this place and starve, yes.”
“I… very well. I just thought… nevermind.” Artful looked away. Wasn’t there a saying about not looking gift horses in the mouth?
“What?”
“It’s nothing, really.” He swiftly walked past them, pretending to be very interested in the scenery. Lots of stone. Lots of teapots.
“Clearly not nothing if you’re acting so weird about it.” Loveshot placed his hands on their hips, sauntering in front of Artful. He leaned forwards, patiently waiting his answer.
“I just thought you hated me.” Artful admitted. Loveshot’s expression was unreadable as they peered into his eyes, tilting their head slightly as if trying to evaluate the truth of his words. Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.
“I do.” Loveshot leaned back and turned away, starting to walk downwards. Artful let out a breath quietly, watching as the sheriff set off. “I just like being alive more, and if we work together we can stay that way. Maybe get back home as well. Now, you coming or not?”
+++
“I’m telling you, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
“And I’m telling you that Loveshot’s probably dead by now!”
Taunt and Block were currently engaged in a heated argument, one that didn’t go unnoticed by the other residents of the Bunker. There wasn’t much private space and in a place as big as this sound traveled pretty far. A small crowd had already gathered, silently watching the two.
“Loveshot’s tough. They probably just decided to hunker down for the storm and come back later.” Block leaned against the wall, staring down Taunt with stone-cold confidence.
“But what if he isn’t? What if they’re out there right now, injured? We should at least send a scouting party to go check! It ain’t right to leave a teammate hanging.” Taunt yelled back, stamping his foot as he glared at Block. The two butted heads often, but it was usually never this serious.
“Look, I’m as worried as you are. Loveshot is my friend as well, and one of our only medics. You think I don’t want to go charging out there right now? Bonuspad and Carepad just said that the portal’s on the fritz, probably because of the flood. If we go out there-“
For a moment, there was a groan of metal so loud it silenced both of them, lights flickering ominously before going out. Everyone held their breath for a few seconds before they shuddered back on. The hum of machinery continued shortly after, but it was a cruel reminder of the damage the Bunker had suffered in the storm. Places like this required a lot of maintenance to stay operational, and the storm had managed to damage some of the finer workings of the Bunker.
Block looked out at the small crowd of Civilians loitering by the door. Scared refugees seeking anywhere safe they could get. Her voice softened as she turned back to Taunt. “Right now we need all hands on deck to keep this place in working order. I swear to you, the moment the portal is safe for usage again, I’ll be the first person out there looking for him.”
Taunt seemed to deflate a bit at that, anger giving way to worry. “…You really think they’ll be alright?”
“I know they will. Give him some credit. For now, we should help Hotdog make sure the supplies haven’t spoilt.” The pair walked off to the staircase leading down, leaving the crowd to disperse. Amidst them was Caretaker.
Truth be told, they had wanted to ask Block the same thing. Loveshot had worked alongside them many times to help save wounded Civilians, and with him gone and Carepad trying to fix up the portal, the Bunker was down to a single medic. More than once, they had opened their mouth to ask Loveshot if he could grab a fresh roll of bandages only to remember that they were gone. Caretaker nervously fiddled with the hem of their scrubs.
The sad truth was, death was a common thing in this world. While their particular Bunker had held strong so far, the occasional cluster of refugees from another would turn up. Maybe they had run out of food. Maybe the electricity was shaky at best and there was no one left to maintain it. Maybe something had found its way inside, and the Civilians coming to them were barely standing.
They reminded themselves of Block’s words. He could stun any killers! They could heal himself! Why, they’d probably walk in the moment the portal was fixed with a crate of supplies, and everyone would tell them to be less reckless but in the end, no one would really be mad. How could they when he’d be alive, ready with apologizes and fresh supplies to make up for it?
It did nothing to quell the worries brewing in Caretaker’s mind. Oh Loveshot, what have you gotten yourself into now?
+++
“So, you can apply makeup with your wand but you can’t teleport?”
“You can patch up a wound but you can’t cure cancer?”
“Touché.”
Artful and Loveshot were currently staring up at the cliff wall, still completely lost. They had spent some time gathering cans, four in total that were swiftly stored in Artful’s “pocket”. Loveshot reluctantly handed them over, but they ultimately agreed that it would be safer in his care than just holding on to the cans normally.
The main issue was that neither of them knew how to rock climb. They searched the Teapot Paradise for another way out, but they would either have to try their hand with the river again, which would only bring them farther away, or go up the steep cliff leading back to the city. There were no handholds present, and even if there were they would be too wet to use properly. Neither of them wanted to slowly starve to death, but neither of them wanted to take their chances with the river again or fall and break their back.
“Those music boxes of yours speed you up, right? Could you do something with that?” Loveshot asked, crossing their arms.
“I don’t think so, sheriff. That’s only if I repurpose them first, and-“ Realization suddenly hit Artful. “Je suis bête comme mes pieds! My implements! We can use them to gain height!”
“Mind explaining for those of us that don’t speak French?” Despite his dry tone, Loveshot’s face held a flicker of excitement.
“The walls I make, they’re thick enough to stand on. If I can stack them on top of each other, we’ll slowly but surely reach the top of the cliff!”
“Hah! I’d say you’re a genius if you hadn’t taken so long to realize that.” Loveshot smiled widely. He couldn’t tell if it was mocking or not.
“Oh, hush! You didn’t remember that either.”
“Only kidding, dear.”
Artful pointedly looked upwards, recently-applied makeup thankfully concealing the blush that was no doubly beginning to spread on his face. “There is one more thing required for traversal.”
“Shoot.”
“In order to maintain our balance… we should hold hands.” Silence. Loveshot slowly raised an eyebrow. Artful hastened to explain further. “That way if one of us stumbles, the other can support their weight and stop them from falling.”
They made a low whistle. “First the cuddling, now this? If I didn’t know any better, Artful, I’d say you were falling for little ol’ me.”
Artful scoffed, hoping that they thought he was unaffected. “You were the one who first proposed it. If there is any blame for this situation to be put on, it is you.”
“No need to get cranky.” Loveshot raised their hands in the gesture for surrender, taking Artful’s free hand. His grip was firm, betraying the easygoing nature he had put up so far.
With a deep breath, Artful began to wave his wand. Casting Implement, like with any magic, required a buildup. The gestures he made, contrary to what most people believed, were not merely for show, instead to help channel the magic out of his wand and into the world. Artful made a final, powerful swing downwards. The earth rumbled as white bricks began to push their way out of the ground. They were wide enough for both of them to stand on, but not much bigger than that. He was practically pressed up against Loveshot’s side, hands intertwined as they slowly went upwards.
Around the third casting of Implement, Loveshot spoke. “This ain’t half as bad as I thought it’d be. Kinda like riding the Bunker elevator.”
“I aim to please, sheriff.” For a moment, he was going to sink into a bow just like he always did at the end of a show. The distance from the ground made him pause. What was he doing, tripping over himself to impress someone who had only tried to jail him?
“I’ve been meaning to ask, actually; what’s with the bricks? They’re not very magical.” Loveshot gave him a casual smile, but Artful didn’t miss the hunger in their eyes. Any bit of knowledge could be turned against him when their truce ended, back to hunter and hunted all over again. It was easy to forget between the teasing remarks or warm hands, but the undeniable truth laid beneath the surface: Loveshot was fiercely loyal to the Citizens he felt like they were bound to protect, and Artful was a threat by taking supplies.
“I used to work as a construction worker.” Loveshot would have done extensive research on him before setting out to arrest him. This was nothing new; it was safe information to give away. “Got into a bit of an accident on the job, and while I was on my paid leave I decided to work further on my magic. It had always been a hobby of mine before then, but it was just the garden variety of tricks. Rainbow handkerchiefs, pulling rabbits out of hats, that sort of thing. With a lot of practice, I went into a more advanced field. That’s where the makeup spell came from, actually. Something small but undeniably magical.”
“Why do you wear it now, then? Just habit?” The brick wall climbed ever higher, Loveshot looking down below at Teapot Paradise. What went on in their head? Was it mere curiosity, or something much deeper than that?
“Well, at first it was to help me hide. It’s harder for cameras to pick up your face when you’ve layered it in powder and a mask. Then I learned that it keeps Pursuer away.”
Loveshot let out an abrupt, barking laugh so intense it nearly knocked him down. Artful had to scramble to stop them from falling off the wall. “Wha- really?”
“Yes, really. I had managed to find some unspoiled meat in a ruined supermarket when the power was still active in the city. I had been so pleased to find a decent meal that it wasn’t until I realized I was cornered did that ghastly thing reveal itself. I tried to run, but it knocked me to the ground; I was certain that was the end for me, but it recoiled with disgust when it smelt me. In the end, it settled for snatching the meat with its jaws and devouring it whole, giving me enough time to run before it changed its mind. Ever since then, I’ve always made sure to have a fresh coat on when I go out of my safehouses.”
Loveshot snickered again. “Who knew all we had to do to avoid Pursuer was get all dolled up before going out? I’ll have to bring it up to the… the others…”
Quiet had shrouded over them again, with Loveshot slipping into a sullen silence. Artful looked up; they were about three quarters of the way to the top of the cliff. A soft wind whistled in both of their ears, thankfully not strong enough to disrupt their balance. He spared another glance to his traveling partner, eyes obscured by the shadow their hat cast over his eyes. Loveshot’s grip was tight, just like it had been all of their trip. His chest rose and fell with a certain kind of heaviness that was more than just exhaustion. “…why’d you do it?”
“Pardon?” It was a cowardly thing to say, and both of them knew it.
For a moment, it seemed like Loveshot was going to let it go until they were on solid ground, but they just gritted their teeth and repeated, “No. Why did you do it?”
The same question had haunted Artful ever since that day when he heard their cacophonous jeers and decided to shut them up once and for all. His mouth felt dry as he opened it to speak, but the wind snatched all the words out of his mouth. What could he even begin to explain? What was the right thing to say? “I don’t know.”
“…you don’t know,” Loveshot echoed back at them, words sounding hollow and empty as if someone had cracked them open and dug out the marrow. Their hands were still entwined. Fear spiked in Artful’s heart. What could he do if Loveshot let go and pushed him off? “You don’t know why you killed an entire crowd of people.”
“I wasn’t thinking back then.” It feels like a confession. Over the years, he had few opportunities to mull his actions over, too busy running to stop and ponder such things. On his rare moments of rest he was usually too exhausted to bother with them. “I just wanted all of them gone. Magic reacts to its user’s emotions. You always have to have a clear state of mind when you’re using it for a large crowd, otherwise something could go awry. You can’t let yourself get distracted by anything. By anyone…”
Some distant part of his brain was aware that he was still on the wall, holding hands with Loveshot. The rest of it was far away, red curtains rising to reveal him standing there. He remembers the night in blurry snapshots. Blinding spotlights shone into his eyes as he walked on stage to the roar of the crowd. Their shrieks of delight slowly morphed into grumbled between themselves, for reasons he could not comprehend. Wasn’t this what they wanted? A muffled voice asked his name, soft and concerned, a hand, wrapped tightly around his own. Oh, Lizzie, he’s so, so sorry, he never intended for things to end like this, for her to get hurt… Was his best not enough for them? What if this was his future from now on? It felt as if a great hollow pit had opened up in his stomach, plummeting down as-
“HEY!” All it took was Loveshot’s shout and the distinct realization that his vision tilted at an unnatural angle to snap Artful out of whatever spiral he had been going down. Indeed, the only reason he hadn’t fallen to his death was because the same sheriff that looked as if they were going to push him of themselves had yanked him back, crushing him tightly against their chest.
“Don’t you dare,” Loveshot whispered directly into his ear, shivers erupting down his body. “Not like this.”
There was nothing but the endless rise upwards and the wind in their ears, as the walls finally stopped rising and deposited at the top of the cliff. Loveshot released him and stepped off, walking firmly towards the woods at the top. For a couple moments, all Artful could do was stare. How did he go from teasing banter to icy justice in such a short amount of time? If they truly hated him so much, then why didn’t he just let him die right then and there?
In the end, all Artful could do was follow after them, regardless of what it brought.